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circus4apsycho8 · 9 months

Note

hear me out.

movie!cole x reader

reader has always kinda liked him and then one day gets stuck while escaping from a garmadon attack, cole (as the earth ninja) comes to help her but accidentally has his identify revealed by garmadon’s workers(??)

𝚊/𝚗: 𝚒 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 :) 𝚒 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢! 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚔𝚗𝚒𝚏𝚎, 𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚍 𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎

unmasked. | movie!cole x reader

Sunshine spills over your desk as you gaze out of the window, eyes scanning the horizon splayed beyond the smudged glass as your mind ventures through all of the activities you’d be doing if you weren’t in school at the moment.

The room is quiet, save for the muffled music emanating from someone’s headphones as the class finishes the daily journaling prompt. Your eyes quickly glance down towards your finished entry, no other words coming to mind. Instead of adding more, you elect to add a few doodles to the side of your paper.

About a minute passes before the teacher stands, a stack of papers in her hands. “Alright, everyone! Journaling time’s over. Today, we’re going to be preparing for our first Socratic Seminar. So, please partner up! No one is allowed to work alone!”

You sigh softly upon hearing this, watching as your classmates partner with each other. Stars, you hate this aspect of school. You probably won’t even need a partner for this!

The chatter kicks up a notch as people start looking for partners before clearing into their respective seats. You remain at your desk, deciding just to take whoever is leftover.

A few moments later, you spot another student apparently hating this as much as you are. Sitting diagonally from you and now facing your direction is none other than Cole Brookstone himself. His combination of long, black hair pulled into an adorably messy bun along with his spearmint-tinted eyes makes your heart skip a beat - doubly so when you realize he’s looking at you, headphones dropped around his neck. The fact that he’s wearing a muscle tank that sets those gorgeous-toned arms on display does not help.

It’s then that you’re snapped out of your trance, heart racing even more when he nods toward you, one of his eyebrows raised.

You get the message, briefly nodding at him with a soft smile.

While he grabs his supplies, you take a moment to put away your journal, now replaced by your school laptop. You subtly take a deep breath, part of you in disbelief that you’re going to be partnering with your crush of several months for this assignment.

Cole settles in beside you, dropping his belongings on the desk before relaxing into the chair.

After he does, the teacher glances around before nodding. “Great. Okay, your assignment is to read the next three chapters of our current novella, then prepare for next week’s Socratic Seminar using quotes and notes from the chapters. I’m handing out your seminar preparation packets now - remember to read the overview! I’ll be going more in depth about the actual seminar the day of. These are going to be due on Wednesday.”

“I hate Socratic Seminars,” Cole mutters, pausing the music on his headphones.

“Me too,” you agree as the teacher hands you two packets, one of which you hand to Cole. You try to ignore the tingling the ignites as your fingers brush together.

“At least it’s only three chapters. With how short they are, it won’t take long to read. I can probably finish them both up tonight.”

“Yeah, same. I’ll make a Google Doc so we can share notes as we read,” you respond, opening your school laptop. “Does that work?”

Cole nods, doing the same. “At least it’s only three chapters. With how short they are, I can probably finish them all tonight.”

“I will too, then,” you note, creating a new document before spinning your laptop around so that he can add his school email.

“In that case, would you just want to meet up after school tomorrow so we can just knock the packet out before the weekend?”’ he suggests, sliding the computer back to you.

The proposition catches you slightly off guard, although you can’t help but acknowledge that blooming elation in your chest.

You nod. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

“How does the cafe right next to the school sound?”

“That works,” you say. “I’ll meet you there, then?”

…

“It’s a date!” your friend shrieks over the phone.

You roll your eyes, tossing the novella atop your nightstand. “It is not a date! I’ve told you like eight times already!”

“Someone’s in denial! Okay, okay, fine. How about we go over the facts, hm?”

“Oh, come on! What facts? I think you’re just making a big deal out of nothing,” you add, finishing up your nightly routine.

“Nothing? Yeah, right. So, tell me - if it really is nothing, then why aren’t the two of you just working on it remotely via the Google Doc? That’s what everyone else is doing! You don’t have to meet in person to get this done!”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” you interject with a shake of your head. “We just want to get it done before the weekend starts.”

“You’re unbelievable,” mutters your friend. “But that’s fine, because you don’t have to believe it. This could be your chance!”

You contemplate what your friend is saying for a moment before deciding to play the dumb card again. “Chance for what? It’s just homework. It’s not that deep.”

“You’re always making goo-goo eyes at him, and I’ve noticed him looking at you too, you know. I think you guys have some good chemistry.”

“I don’t know,” you mumble, nervousness creeping throughout your chest as you shift the grip on your phone slightly. “I…I guess I’ll just see how it goes, then.”

“There, there we go!” cheers the voice on the other end. “Just tell me how it goes, okay?!”

“Fine, I will!”

“Good. Now finish reading that stupid book so you’ll be prepared. Text me, okay?”

“I will. Thanks.”

With a few more closing words, the two of you hang up for the night before you get started on reading the required chapters.

…

You don’t think you’ve ever been this nervous before.

With each passing class, the ball of nerves embedded within your belly grows, eventually manifesting into a racing heart and sweaty palms. You swallow as the last bell of the day rings, grabbing your bag before heading out.

As you exit the school, you find that your friend has texted you:

good luck!! :)

After shooting a quick reply, you make your way through the crowded sidewalk for few minutes. Once you get past the school, you will yourself to take a moment to simply breathe.

As you inhale deeply, you tilt your head slightly up to the sun, its warm rays enveloping your skin. The air is crisp and fresh, unlike the stale atmosphere lacing your school. Finally, you’re able to calm down a bit as you approach the café, quick to enter.

The first sound to greet you is the soft, café playlist sounding from the speakers in the ceiling, the song slightly masked by the quiet chatter of patrons. From behind the counter emanates the tearing noise of milk being steamed as baristas busy themselves with their work.

You glance around, finding that the café isn’t as busy as you’d thought it would be. Seated in one of the booths is Cole, eyes focused on a book situated on the table. It seems different than the assigned book. He’s dressed in dark jeans and a graphic tee depicting a band that you haven’t heard of.

You approach him, setting your backpack on the opposite side of the side. “Hey.”

Cole glances up at you as you do so, a dimpled smile forming on his lips. “Hey.”

“Just give me a minute to order,” you say, returning his grin as you turn towards the counter. Thankfully, there’s no line, so you’re able to place your order and pay quickly.

Once you have your order, you sit down across from Cole before pulling your needed supplies out.

“So...” Cole starts, pushing his current read aside and sliding his note packet out. “Quanish the Elder. Quite the character, don’t you think?”

You chuckle lightly, sipping on your drink as you nod in agreement. “Definitely. But his stories have some merit. After all, rumor has it that he can see the future.”

Cole shrugs. “My...grandfather always told me that he was an idiot. I guess he had his moments, though.”

You nod, plucking the seminar prep sheet up in order to read over the questions. “Okay...so, we have to figure out what stance we’re going to take on the message he was trying to embed, right?”

“Yeah, sounds about right. So...what do you think he was trying to say?”

“That people are unpredictable. And sometimes stupid,” you summarize, surprising yourself at how simple the theme is. “And that’s unavoidable no matter where you go.”

“Ironic, coming from him,” Cole mumbles, shrugging. “Yeah, that’s what I gathered too.”

“Cool, so we I guess we can go ahead and look for quotes and examples that back our theory,” you mumble, pulling your book out.

Cole nods in agreement as he sips his drink again. “Sounds good.”

With that, the two of you scour the chapters for quotes. During your reading, you can’t help but sneak a few glances over at Cole.

He’s so cute when he reads, you think, smiling softly as your eyes flick back towards the page. Your brain happily reimagines the memory of his pretty eyes scanning over the page, the way his fingers would flip the page, the callouses present on his knuckles...and not to mention his muscles.

It takes you a minute to process that, despite reading almost an entire page, you hadn’t digested any of the words. You sigh softly, starting over again. Okay, focus!

Thankfully, you’re able to redirect your attention to the task at hand as opposed to the handsome man sitting right across from you. Soon enough, you’re both able to finish filling out your homework for the weekend.

“I’m so glad that’s done,” you note, shoving the papers back where they belong. “I was dreading that.”

“Yeah, I’m relieved that we finished before the weekend,” he responds, also putting his belongings away. “Thanks, by the way. For meeting me here.”

“Yeah, I um...I enjoyed it,” you admit softly, not sure of what else to say. An idea occurs to you when you notice his other book slipped against the wall. “Oh, what are you reading now, by the way?”

To your delight, Cole starts telling you about the book he’s reading. And from there, the two of you end up discussing other books for a little while.

You didn’t think he would be so well-versed in Ninjago’s literature, but he proved you wrong. Proof that you should never judge a book by its cover – especially if that cover sports muscles, graphic band t-shirts and a manbun.

Sure enough, the two of you were there for far longer than you’d anticipated – not that you minded, though. He was fun to talk to.

You’re about to ask him something else when his phone starts ringing.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, fumbling for his device as he shoots an apologetic glance towards you. “I need to get this.”

You dismiss his worries with a wave of your hand. “Not a problem. I should stretch my legs for a second anyway.”

So, you stand, deciding to browse some of the merchandise situated at the other side of the café while you wait for him to finish.

Once he does, you make your way back over, noticing that he’s packing all of his belongings up.

“Hey, sorry. I have to go,” he admits, snatching his book. “But...maybe we could do this again sometime? Maybe same day and time next week?”

“I’d like that,” you reply, smiling softly as you grab your stuff, making sure all of the trash has been cleaned up.

“Dope,” he mumbles quietly, nervously grinning. “So, I’ll see you then?”

“You sure will,” you say, the two of you exiting the café together.

With that, you both bid each other goodbye before heading home for the evening. When you get home, you immediately text your friend to concede defeat:

I think you were right. We’re meeting up again next week.

…

The weekend, as per usual, passes in a haze much to your dismay. You hadn’t slept well, either, which normally wouldn’t be a huge issue except for one, little detail:

You fell asleep before setting your alarm on Sunday night.

It didn’t take you long to realize you weren’t going to make it, even going as far as not to rush your morning routine. Now, you’re walking on the sidewalk towards the school, checking the time on your phone. Yeah, there’s no way you’re going to arrive in time. Might as well grab a cup of coffee since you can’t be late twice, right?

Decision made, you slow your pace and decide to simply enjoy the fresh air while you still can. You weren’t really looking forward to first period anyway, so why not live a little?

The atmosphere of Ninjago City seems to be extra busy today, with citizens much like yourself bustling about. You arrive at the café in a few minutes, immediately joining the line.

After you order, you wait for the baristas to make your drink, idly watching one of the televisions hitched up in the corner of the store. It’s stationed to one of the local news channels, the hosts of which are currently discussing local news.

You lose interest after a few moments, electing to scroll through your phone again.

A few seconds later, the barista calls out your name and hands you your drink. After thanking her, you take a sip and go to have a seat at one of the tables.

About ten minutes pass as you scroll through your phone while enjoying your beverage. At some point, though, you start hearing more and more concerned murmuring among the crowd.

You lift your head up, noticing quite a few people leaving the store. Narrowing your eyes, you shift your stare towards the TV again.

“This just in – our scouts have spotted Garmadon and his forces approaching Ninjago City again! You know the drill – take cover wherever you can until the Secret Ninja Force can repel his assault!”

Oh, fucking dandy. Another Garmadon attack. You stand with a groan, watching as the camera footage shifts to a shot of Garmadon’s giant shark mech breaching the coast. Again. Fantastic, that’s not too far from where you’re at, which means you probably won’t be able to make it back home in time. That means your best shot is figuring out where the nearest public shelter is.

You shift your attention towards the street, noticing that people are already starting to panic.

After making your way out of the shop, you realize that your time is shorter than you initially thought. You can already feel the vibrations of the mech’s footsteps within the ground, and people are starting to panic even more.

You feel your heartbeat increase as someone yells out from the street behind you. Upon turning, you feel the beginnings of an adrenaline rush as an all-too-familiar group of Garmadon goons flood the streets.

As your breathing speeds up, you make a split-second decision to cut through an alley between two buildings – a route that you know will lead you to a back road that fewer people know about. You jog towards it, cautiously making your way through.

Thankfully, it’s clear, leading you to the road. You continue following it, making sure to keep your head on a swivel.

It’s eerily quiet, save for the small vibrations. In the distance, you can hear people yelling. You pass a few people on the way, but not too many.

You manage to make it within a few minutes of home – from here, it’s just a walk past a skyscraper, then a few turns and you’re there.

Your gaze shifts up to the skyscraper you need to walk by, and for some reason, a horrid feeling courses through your stomach. You stop in your tracks, hairs standing on end as you glance around.

Your home...it’s not far, and yet...

Your unease pays off, because seconds later, a deafening shattering noise sends you scrambling for cover. Something crashes through the skyscraper you would have been standing in front of had you not stopped when you did. You run back towards a nearby alley, trying to get away from the action.

As you turn, however, you find that a few of Garmadon’s soldiers are blocking your path, along with a few smaller mechs controlled by some of the higher-level goons.

You turn back around, spotting the mech you saw on TV emerge from the debris of the skyscraper, your eyes widen as you notice the remains of the building swaying unsteadily for a moment before toppling over – right in your direction.

A scream becomes stuck in your throat as you try to run from the falling debris, but before you can, a pair of hands roughly pushes you backwards. You yell out, falling onto the pavement.

The breath is knocked out of your lungs, leaving you gasping. Your mind is spinning, part of you trying to get your ass in gear while the other part of you is trying to suck a breath in. With both warring thoughts in your mind, combined with the sight of the falling debris...

...you freeze.

Breath hitched in your lungs, you can only watch as the debris tumbles down towards you.

You close your eyes, waiting for an impact as tears prick the corners of your eyes.

But...it doesn’t come.

After slowly opening your eyes, you realize that something else is towering over you. Your breath finally returns, allowing you to sit up.

Above you is another mech – this one familiar. You recognize it as one of the mechs used by the Secret Ninja Force. Relief courses through you as the mech hovers over you, blocking the debris with its fists. It’s the Black Ninja’s mech.

Three other mechs appear – the Red Ninja leaps into action by driving back Garmadon’s mech using its momentum and surprise. Second to appear is the Green Ninja’s mechanical dragon, aiding Red in his assault against Garmadon. Finally, the Gray Ninja’s water strider leaps out of a nearby river, one of its legs sweeping out against the row of smaller mechs, effectively sending them flying backwards.

With that, she leaps back in the water, the mech swimming away. Green and Red manage to drive Garmadon’s mech out of sight, while Black’s mech seemingly spots the various enemies around you.

You decide it’s best to get away from the giant robot that’s about to start fighting, so you scramble out of its way, eyes scanning the area for cover. To your dismay, more of Garmadon’s troops have arrived, and have surrounded you.

“Fuck,” you curse, wondering what the best course of action could be. There’s no cover for you to take, so your best hope of not getting squished like a bug is to hope that Black sees you.

“General, do it now!” an enemy shouts. You notice one of them holding some strange device – a gun, maybe? A big one, if it is. They aim it towards Black’s mech, and in a matter of seconds, it launches a blue ball of energy towards the mech. You gasp as blue waves pulse across its structure before sending it crashing to the ground.

Was that an electromagnetic pulse?! you wonder, eyes widening as the mech fails to get up.

Then, a pair of arms jerks you backwards by the shoulder, another arm coming in front of you. You struggle, screaming out as something sharp is pressed against your neck.

“Easy, beautiful,” a scratchy voice taunts. “No use struggling unless you want your throat slit.”

"Let me go!” you demand as the grip on you grows tighter. Fingers dig into your skin, the blade now poking into your neck.

“That’s up to our little ninja friend,” he responds. You watch as a figure emerges from the cockpit, heart racing.

“I’d like to see what he’s capable of without his big robot,” another soldier taunts as Black slowly makes his way towards you. You try not to let your fear show, but you can tell it’s not working. His eyes glance at you, studying you for a moment.

“Let her go,” he states calmly, raising his hands.

“Nope,” replies the man holding you. “We want something. If we strike a deal, maybe then we can think about releasing her.”

“Okay,” Black assures, stepping forward slowly. “Let’s talk.”

“That’s more like it. Okay, here’s what we want. We want you,” he states simply.

“You want to capture me?” Black clarifies.

“Yes. You’re going to be good leverage to use against Green. Not to mention that when Garmadon finds out that we captured a ninja, we’ll get a promotion for sure!”

“What do you mean by leverage?” asks Black. You get the feeling that whoever’s holding you hostage isn’t the brightest, and that Black is just scrounging for time however he can. He must have some kind of plan.

“Isn’t it obvious? To get your damned team to back down and surrender control to Garmadon!”

Black doesn’t answer for a moment, seemingly going over his options. You notice that his eyes keep flicking towards a direction behind you ever so often, but the enemy doesn’t seem to realize this. He must be waiting for backup.

“So, what’ll it be?”

“I’ll come willingly. Just...let her go.”

“Come over here.”

Another goon steps forward, holding out a pair of handcuffs. You bite your lip as Black takes a few steps forward, heart pounding.

Then, you hear something: the guy behind you grunts, dropping his knife arm. A split second is all it takes for you to realize that this is your chance. You immediately run forward, making your way behind Black before turning around to face your attacker.

You see a bunch of men...convulsing, maybe? But not all of them – a portion of them are watching their fallen allies in shock. You’re stuck wondering what happened until a blue aircraft zips overhead.

“Thanks, Blue,” Black mutters before turning to you. “Hey, you need to go.”

You don’t reply, watching as he goes to defend against a few goons who have recovered enough to rush him.

For some reason, you’re rooted in place. You know you’re free, and that you can run, but...something prompts you to stay.

Black seems to be holding his own despite the fact that he’s outnumbered. However, the situation changes when someone manages to trip him up, another goon taking advantage of the opening by tackling Black.

They’re quick to pin his limbs down, with another man circling the restrained ninja with a dark chuckle. “You were a fool to think you could take us on all by yourself!”

Black doesn’t reply – just keeps his cool.

“How about we take a look at who we’re really dealing with, hm?” the villain taunts. “Take his mask off!”

Oh, stars. You have to do something!

You glance around, realizing that this could be your only opportunity since they’re preoccupied with Black’s true identity. Thankfully, the debris around you provides plenty of impromptu weapons – one of which is a chunk of concrete that seems heavy enough to do some damage, but light enough for you to throw. Perfect.

You grab it, hoisting it up before aiming it at one of the men holding Black’s arms down. With a grunt, you throw it as hard as you can.

The concrete sails through the area before smacking the intended man in the shoulder, effectively causing him to let go of Black’s arm. It's not much, but it’s enough for Black to strike the man holding his other arm.

“You fucking bitch!” the injured man yells, gripping his injured shoulder. “Get her!”

Thankfully, though, Black manages to take the rest of the men out. You sigh in relief, realizing that you’re starting to crash from that lovely adrenaline rush.

“Are you okay?” you ask, shifting your gaze to Black.

And you pause, eyes widening as you remember that he’s unmasked.

But...you know this face.

“Cole?” you wonder. “You’re the...?”

“Um...yeah. Yeah, I am,” he mumbles, smiling smally as he bends over to pick his mask up. “Guess my cover’s blown, huh?”

You’re not really sure what to say, so you avert your gaze as he pulls the article over his head. With your thoughts racing, you have a hard time making sense of all that’s happened.

Cole...so it’s been him all along. And his other friends...the numbers and personalities certainly match up. They must make up the rest of the Secret Ninja Force.

He studies you for a moment, walking up to you slowly. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

“N-No, I’m fine,” you reply. “Um...for what it’s worth, I won’t tell anyone.”

“I’m sorry about all this,” he says, pausing. “You should find shelter. I know that the public ones are probably locked by now, but there might something else nearby.”

“My home isn’t far. I’ll just head there,” you note.

“I’ll come with you. The main streets are crawling with Garmadon’s army, and my mech isn’t much use now anyway,” he replies. “Lead the way.”

“Thank you,” you mumble, starting to walk towards your home.

With that, the two of you quietly make your way through the city, most of the goons having made their way to other points of the city by now. This part of the city has gone eerily quiet, leaving you and Cole to trek through the streets in a strange silence.

“Are you doing okay?” Cole wonders. “I’m sorry that he...”

“It’s not your fault,” you assure, smiling sadly. “And...I’m just a little shaken, I think, but I'll survive.”

“...And you’re taking the news of my identity better than I thought, too,” he admits.

“I mean...I can’t really complain, can I? You saved me. Yeah, it’s...kind of weird to think that you’re actually a ninja, but...it’s not as surprising as I initially thought. Maybe because I might have hit my head. Or because I’m in shock, or...something. I don’t know.”

He nods in agreement. “Yeah, and I guess I owe you thanks too.”

“Why?”

“For stepping in when you did,” he adds. “I don’t think I would have been able to escape them if you hadn’t given me an opening.”

You smirk, turning to glance at him. “Even ninjas need saving sometimes too, huh?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

That makes you giggle as the two of you finally approach your home, with you turning towards Cole.

“Thank you again,” you mumble, smiling at him.

“Not a problem,” Cole answers. “Are we still on for next week, by the way?”

“We sure are,” you add, stepping closer to him.

You can feel him freeze slightly, especially when your hands come up to lift his mask slightly. A wave of confidence slips over you as you press a soft kiss to his cheek, stepping away after you pull it back down.

“Thank you again, Cole.”

𝚊/𝚗: 𝚒 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍! 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚘 𝚒 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚔𝚊𝚢. 𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚓𝚊𝚐𝚘 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗; 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘!

#ninjago x reader #ninjagoxreader #cole x reader #cole brookstone x reader #colebrookstonexreader #cole brookestone x reader

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apolloanddaphnis · 5 months

Text

Eddie Munson x Horror!Bimbo Reader 🦇 💕 Part One

Headcanons about Horror!Bimbo

Horror!Bimbo isn't Harrington rich but she isn't Munson poor, she's lower middle class. Her dad is very distant, he manages the grocery store in town. Her mother is a part time librarian, and is there for reader as much as she can be.

She has an older sister who is studying pre med at The University of Chicago, they were once close but her sister became snobby once she started living in Chicago and only visits on holidays now. She thinks reader is stupid and hopeless with no future.

Horror!Bimbo!Reader is 18, a senior while Eddie is 20.

Horror!Bimbo!Reader has a white German Shepherd called Pyewacket.

Pyewacket hates everybody except for reader, she rescued him from a mean neighbor who would chain him up as a puppy. They've been thick as thieves ever since.

Pyewacket doesn't even let her parents into her room without some growling and snarling.

Horror!Bimbo!Reader also has a white rat called Socrates who often rests on her chest while she watches movies.

Pyewacket was the name of a famous witch cat in the Salem Witch Trials and a familiar in the 50s film Bell, Book, and Candles. AND Socrates was the name of Willard's white rat in Willard(1971).

Horror!Bimbo!Reader has a big oral fixation, she's constantly chewing her Extra! Refreshing bubble gum, or sucking on heart shaped lollipops that she hoards a bunch of from Valentine's Day that last her throughout the year.

It drives poor Eddie insane watching her mouth like that.

And she has such a distracting mouth, especially with all her lip gloss and lip liner defined lipstick painted lips.

And she's a big lip biter too.

He has spent many a time jacking off to the thought of those lips wrapped around him. With her shirt bunched up above her perky tits that never seemed to wear a bra for some reason.

And her plush ass that was alwayss adorn with a thong that he could see under very short skirts when she would bend over, her pussy lips puffier than the average girl and would be straining against the lace or satin of her thong, a lot of the time not completely covered.

Eddie has shamefully bust in his jeans at the sight at least twice.

And when she wears her obscenely tight jeans, her whale tail of her thong would peak out from the top of the high waist cut somehow, and you could easily see the outline of her thick vagina through the crotch of the jeans.

And almost always you could see the nipples of her bouncing tits through her shirts.

She tortured poor Eddie, especially when she would always smile so sweetly at him through the hall with a breathy Daryl Hannah "Hi Eddie" that she always managed to sound suggestive.

And in class (they have English and Pre-Calc together) , she always managed to sit in front of him, leaning forward so he could see her whale tail, or her juicy pouty lips when she'd ask to borrow a pencil that she would chew on and suck on before giving it back to him. (He is a little ashamed to admit he saves a whole collection of those at home). He'd also get high off her succulent smells. Like her strawberry shampoo, rosewater body lotion, her apricot hand cream, either baby powder and vanilla body mists or spicy and fruity Poison by Dior that he knew she would shoplift from the department store at Starcourt.

Our little bimbo has sticky fingers. Her family isn't the richest and she is such a seagull. Sees something shiny, might be a little too costly, like expensive lingerie or luxurious perfumes and she HAS to have it. Flirting with sales men and women and stealthily swiping the goods.

Eddie remembers the day he first met reader.

First day of her senior year, she walks into English in an outfit he knew she would get dress coded for, faded blue daisy dukes that squeezed the life of her dump truck ass and accentuated the lewd shape of her cunt. A red cropped tank top that was a little loose with a strap falling off her summer-loved shoulder, but tight around her bouncing unbound breasts. She had on white socks bunched from black doc like combat boots, and her hair up in a messy but very pretty high half pony half bun she had pinned up on top of her head, tendrils and loks framing her face and sticking to the back of her neck for it was an Indiana September. Her bangs framing her face and silver gold hoop earrings adorned her ears, red lipstick daringly painted her lips and black self manicured nails adorned her hands. She looked like a centerfold and he couldn't take his eyes off of her, neither could the other guys.

He knew it wasn't just lust however when she complimented his Black Sabbath t-shirt and then commented how she loves Ozzy solo work and rambled about an alter she once had to honor Randy Rhoads.

No, it was safe to say Eddie fell in love with her after that.

She was never ashamed to be seen talking to him. Sure she wasn't miss popular, the boys only talked to her because of her bimbo appearance but they all saw her as a witchy slut. They found her creepy but hot because she loves horror films so very much.

She's a little bit of an airhead, things tend to fly over her head, but she does love reading surprisingly. She has been scolded by teachers countless of times for reading in class ironically, and sometimes ditched to read in the library because the librarians adore her.

She likes to get lost in books and be in another world because she felt lonely in the real one.

Reader doesn't have friends, she comes off odd.

She giggles too much and blinks rapidly and shakes her head when she doest get things which is often.

Her mom says she doesn't process things like everyone else but that doesn't mean she's dumb.

She stares a lot and kind of looks like she has no thought in her head as she floats on through but she is actually lost in her own fantasies constantly through the day.

Eddie finds it adorable, and when people make fun of her for her oddities and aloofness he will do something outrageous to take the attention off of her, to protect her.

He saw she had nowhere to sit at lunch and invited her to his table, he realized despite being so beautiful she's the loneliest person in school.

She was so honored to be invited having a crush on him since freshman year. How could she not? He looks like the boys on her wall. Like Hawkins own personal rock star.

She became of Hellfire and with DnD she had him explain it like twenty times. Some of his friends may have groaned when she said 'wait' for the twelfth time, but we're silenced by theor DM's lethal glare.

She loved creating characters so much and had fun creating hers The Enchantress.

Reader always made food for the club which made them take to her easily.

She loves to cook and bake, she could be in her own world like when she would read or watch movies all day.

Her favorite book is Flowers in the Attic, and her favorite movies are The Company of Wolves, Slumber Party Massacre, and The Wicker Man. She will watch any horror film.

Her favorite colors to wear a red, pink, occasionally black.

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie fanfic #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson x horror!bimbo #eddie munson x bimbo!reader #joseph quinn smut #stranger things 4 #st4

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nicklloydnow · 7 months

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Illustration by @steve_fagiano_art

“Chigurh stands up to God with an unflinching, uncompromising belief in predetermination—no free will or human choice, no mercy or sentiment, no giving in or letting go or giving up. Principled in the purity of his work, he defies sentiment and falsehood and betrayal. A pure born-again agent of death, anti-Christ Calvinist Chigurh is a man of his deadly word, a relentless avenger, an implacable killer defying God, no less than the diabolic Judge in Blood Meridian. "How to prevail over that which you refuse to acknowledge the existence of" lago was never so clear-minded, Ahab no more manically fixated, Kurtz no less obsessed with his mission to exterminate losers. "The horror! The horror!" What more can a man say of pure evil?” - Kenneth Lincoln, ‘Cormac McCarthy: American Canticles’ (2010) [p. 144, 145]

“Chigurh again adopts the Socratic method in his final encounter with his fellow hitman Carson Wells. Although Wells isn't given the privilege of a coin toss, Chigurh nevertheless engages in an incisive dialogue with his victim. While holding Wells at gunpoint, Chigurh asks, "If the rule you followed led you to this of what use was the rule?" When Wells replies, "I don't know what you're talking about," Chigurh elaborates: "I'm talking about your life. In which now everything can be seen at once." Knowing that the moment of death has arrived, Chigurh wants Wells to examine the path that led him here, claiming that the present situation "calls past events into question" (175). Even though Chigurh admits that he and Wells are in the "same line of work," he finds it necessary to distance himself from the other hit-man: "You think I'm like you. That it's just greed. But I'm not like you. I live a simple life" (177). This distinction between the two hired assassins suggests that Chigurh transcends mere criminality. The "simple life" he leads imbues him with the ascetic austerity of a monk pledged to evil, a satanic reversal of traditional, spiritual roles hinted at by other descriptions of Chigurh as a "faith healer" and a "prophet of destruction" (7, 3). In his study of the portrayal of evil in literature and cinema, Paul Oppenheimer points out that evil often "begins in criminality" but then "surpasses criminality, and finally, by comparison with criminality, overwhelms and belittles it, causing it to seem oddly cumbersome and even childish" (21). Chigurh lives by a different "rule," not motivated by the usual spectrum of human desires and thus remaining largely inscrutable.

It is significant that Wells is given a premonition of his own death exactly three days before it takes place. While examining the damage caused by a shootout between Chigurh and Moss at the Eagle Pass motel, Wells notices "two bulletholes in the windowglass" of a "second floor level" apartment across the street. After knocking on the door and receiving no answer, Wells lets himself in and finds the corpse of an old woman: "She'd been shot through the forehead and had tilted forward leaving part of the back of her skull and a good bit of dried brainmatter stuck to the slat of the rocker behind her. . . . A second shot had marked a date on a calendar on the wall behind her that was three days hence" (147). The path of the stray bullet converges with the path of the unsuspecting woman, much as Chigurh's coin converges with the equally unsuspecting gas station owner earlier in the novel. The woman's death reminds Wells of the inexorable machinations of fate: "Not what you had in mind at all, was it darling?" he asks (148). Wells correctly interprets the mark on the calendar as a portent of the day of his own impending death.

During the final encounter, he tells Chigurh, "By the old woman's calendar I've got three more minutes. Well the hell with it. I think I saw all this coming a long time ago. Almost like a dream. Déja vu." Well's words reveal that he had a vision of his own death long before he saw the calendar. Nevertheless, the question posed by Chigurh, namely, "How did you let yourself get in this situation?" suggest that it was still within Wells's power to make different choices, live by a different "rule," and thereby change his fate. Chigurh encourages Wells to engage in a final moment of self-reflection: "I thought you might want to explain yourself. . . . Not to me. To yourself" (178). Chigurh's questions seem to be directing Wells toward something akin to the existentialist concept of authentic existence, which, though "not clearly defined by the existentialists . . . implies an attitude of sincerity and honesty and the absence of self-deception" (de Silva 1). Furthermore, it is a mode of existence based on "a realization that one is what one makes oneself by one's acts" (Manser 20). It is worth mentioning that Sheriff Bell strives for the same realization: "It's a life's work to see yourself for what you really are and even then you might be wrong. And that is somethin I dont want to be wrong about" (295). Despite the fact that Bell and Chigurh are diametrically opposed in a Manichean battle between good and evil, respectively, both men insist on the importance of authentic existence arrived at through knowledge of the self.

Existentialist themes are also apparent in Chigurh's attempts to make his victims come to terms with the inevitability of death. He accuses Wells of believing that he can keep death at bay: "You think that as long as you keep looking at me you can put it off." Wells denies thinking such a thing, but Chigurh insists, "Yes you do. You should admit your situation. There would be more dignity in it. I'm trying to help you" (176). Behind the "existential preoccupation with the theme of death" is the belief that "living authentically is living constantly in its presence, for then alone can we attain 'freedom in the face of death" (Dutt 80). When Wells accuses Chigurh of thinking that he is "outside of everything" and reminds him that he is "not outside of death," Chigurh replies, "It doesnt mean to me what it does to you" (177). The reply can be read in two ways, the surface reading being that Chigurh has adopted an existentialist approach to death. More subtly, however, the words hint at the idea that Chigurh is no ordinary mortal and may perhaps be Death itself, albeit a modern version that carries a pneumatic stun-bolt gun instead of the traditional scythe.

Wells grows weary of the conversation, announcing, "I'm not interested in your opinions. . . . Just do it. You goddamned psychopath. Do it and goddamn you to hell." Despite the verbal command, Wells's body language suggests that he is not quite ready: "He closed his eyes and he turned his head and he raised one hand to fend away what could not be fended away. Chigurh shot him in the face" (177). Although there is some discrepancy between Wells's words and his reaction to the shot, the fact that Wells commands it enables him to reclaim a certain degree of control over his fate, however insignificant it may appear. Furthermore, McCarthy makes a point of informing the reader that the "new day was still a minute away" (178), thereby emphasizing the fact that the old woman's calendar was not entirely accurate. The fact that, by asking Chigurh to shoot him a minute early, Wells refuses to die on the prophesied day suggests that even within a universe ruled by seemingly inexorable forces of fate, minute degrees of free will and personal agency remain.” - Petra Mundik, ‘A Bloody and Barbarous God: The Metaphysics of Cormac McCarthy’ (2016) [p. 268 - 270]

“The Coen brothers built a story of war between two teams: one team represent the human mind wish to understand the world and the second team represent the universe as a chaos. During the first half of the movie the war looks good for the human mind team but then the human mind team lose – a beatiful metaphor for absurdism.

(…)

Result of the war:

Anton kills Carson, Llewelyn is killed by Mexicans, and the sheriff is retired loosing hope in the world.

The Coen brothers message in this film is that they do not think humans mind will ever be able to understand the world and we are doom to internal ignorance. Depressing.”

#no country for old men #anton chigurh #chigurh #cormac mccarthy #existentialism #absurdism #socratic method #coen brothers

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1moreff-creator · 8 months

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Is anyone still trying to figure out the final code on the MV? The one with (the world of abnormal sentiment dances)? No judgement, I have no idea what's going on with it either, but I'm surprised there's so little discussion of it. I’m making this post to share some observations, and some of the things I’ve tried as I go insane over this MV. Warning, don’t expect anything too revolutionary.

+First, the code doesn't have a direct parallel in the original LGI MV, so no clues there.

+But I did find something possibly peculiar. You know the "find the 'n'" bit that shows up right after it? Well, it's lifted straight from the original LGI video, but the symbol you're supposed to find there is somewhere else.

That's the equivalent from the og LGI.

And there's the n. It's in a completely different spot, which makes me wonder if it's somehow related to the code. The n does pretty much coincide with a number of the images. Here's a transcription of the numbers, with the numbers related to the n in blue (you should still check I didn't fuck anything up though). Italics and bold means I'm not completely sure about the number.

1 4 6 3 1 4 8 4 2 6 8

1 7 3 7 4 1 0 2 0 1 4

3 0 3 6 4 5 1 1 7 5 9

2 3 3 6 8 6 3 6 2 7 8

9 3 0 4 0 4 9 2 3 7 4

3 0 8 2 4 3 6 7 7 2 0

6 9 7 0 5 2 1 7 3 2 6

4 3 6 0 7 8 8 6 5 0 3

7 1 8 8 1 1 5 2 5 7 9

8 7 6 4 3 2 1 6 8 6 4

9 5 6 2 8 0 7 1 3 5 3

0 8 5 9 5 6 3 3 0 7 1

7 5 8 1 4 9 8 3 7 5 2

9 1 4 4 4 1 0 0 5 2 6

Does it mean anything? Hell if I know! I have no idea how any of this works!

+Perhaps a more out there possibility is the changed alphabet. I've mentioned it before, but there's a point in the David MV where a modified alphabet shows up.

In case you can't tell, not only are letters listed in both capital and non-capital form, the alphabet ends W-U-X instead of W-X-Y-Z. This changed alphabet is not in the original LGI.

This is the equivalent scene. You can see it's perfectly fine, and as far as I can tell (aka: zero Japanese, just the translation and vibes) the letters aren't listed twice. And this is the video the David MV is based on, there are a lot of similarities.

This would imply, in my mind at least, that the alphabet was changed for a reason. I've seen it interpreted as another sign David doesn't see himself as human, as he doesn't even use the same alphabet, but it feels like a weird way to go about showing that to me.

So, uh, if you're trying something, and some words don't look right, maybe this can help?

+I have no idea what footnote 14 is supposed to be. "Hint: word length of 256". I've seen it suggested that it relates back to Hamlet's "To be or not to be" thing, but... while I think I did see one source with 256 words once, the word count is highly inconsistent throughout the internet, and almost none of them have it as 256 words. I checked with wordcounter.net.

-Wikipedia: 275 words.

-Poetry Foundation: 259 words.

-Poets.org: 276 words.

-Nosweatshakespeare: 275 words.

-Representative Poetry Online: 265 words

-Shakespeare Resource Center: 261 words.

-Litcharts: 273 words.

See the issue here? And now I don't have any idea what footnote 14 is. Here's some other things that it isn't.

+Literature Girl Insane: >256 words.

+Colored lyrics in the MV: ~190 words

+Lemon: Way more than 256 words

+The part of lemon in the MV: 113 words.

+The defense of Socrates: Way more than 256 words.

+The defense of Socrates, but only the part in the MV, and extended to the next end of sentence: I want to cry. 257 words. 257. One off. Why? Why are you like this? Please, someone check the fucking text and tell me I accidentally pasted in a word I shouldn't have. PLEASE-

+That part of the Little Prince in that one part before the tally 5 code: 198 words.

+Undefeated by the Rain poem: 139 words (in English Wikipedia, or 180, in the English translation found in Spanish Wikipedia, because my life can't just be easy so apparently the English version of the poem is different in different languages of Wikipedia what-)

+Just the correct/incorrect code: The most is 247 characters, if you include "correct13" and "incorrect".

+Yamanashi, the story "kapukapu" comes from: Thousands of words.

I didn't check anything else, but I can't for the life of me find what this is referring to. And it feels important, seeing as it's on the goddamn equal sign. Maybe it’s one of those excerpts from that part of the MV right before the “correct/incorrect” code? I don’t know.

If it helps, I’m pretty sure the code’s going to translate to something related to Xander, seeing as his numeral flashes on screen right before that. And because of that, it’s possible this 256 word thing refers to some kind of revolutionary speech or text or something the like.

How would the footnote matter? Well, you know the ampersand symbol (&) that shows up between the numbers?

Maybe, if we put the numbers on both rows together:

14 43 66 30 17 48 88 46 25 60 83

17 71 38 78 41 11 05 22 05 17 49

38 07 36 64 43 52 11 16 78 56 94

29 35 36 62 88 60 37 61 23 75 83

90 38 05 49 05 46 93 23 30 77 41

37 05 88 21 44 39 68 73 77 25 02

69 91 74 04 54 21 10 70 35 22 66

Then reference whatever text is 256 words long, we can assign each number a word. Possibly, we would only start where the n appears, just to give that some meaning.

Like, here's what you get if you do that with the Wikipedia version of "To be or not to be", starting with the 05 the n represents (starting from the beginning gives you a completely nonsensical message, I didn't even go all the way).

to - sleep - to - and - dream - of - against - to - die - opposing - to - that - and - no - them - consummation - to - to - fortune - be - devoutly - death - die - not - the - and - question - to - and - arrows - ‘tis

Like, that almost sounds like it works, but obviously we would need to find the actual text of 256 words, which isn’t the Wikipedia version of the Hamlet speech. I also tried with the Socrates text, but I don't think it works (from the n you get, like, "O - but - O - word - ashamed", and that's going to be in there even if you start from the beginning).

I also tried some kind of alphabet cypher thing, both with the regular alphabet and with the modified alphabet, and while I would like second opinions on account of my skill issues, I didn’t get anything.

If that’s not what the ampersand is for, here's what you get if you add the numbers together instead of just putting them next to each other:

5 7 12 3 8 12 16 10 7 6 11

8 8 11 15 5 2 5 4 5 8 13

11 7 9 10 7 7 2 7 15 11 13

11 8 9 8 16 6 10 7 5 12 11

9 11 5 13 5 10 12 5 3 14 5

10 5 16 3 8 12 14 10 14 7 2

15 10 11 4 9 3 1 7 8 4 12

It looks like it could be translated to hex almost perfectly, with the 16s possibly just translated to 10s, but I don't know what to do with it. I tried converting to hex and just putting it in as a Tumblr image URL, but nothing. Though there’s a chance I just didn’t do it right, I guess. I even took the first part up to the "n" and put it in th goddamn tally 5 page just in case it did something, but no. I tried the "word association" thing with the Hamlet thing as well, but nothing. Also tried alphabet cypher, even with the modified alphabet, and nothing. But again, any cypher cracking I tried to do should be taken with a grain of salt, since I’m a bit of an idiot at it.

One thing I didn’t do, simply because I don’t know how to, is try to use column cyphers. You can look them up and try them yourself, but I sorta doubt that’s the answer.

Finally, it’s a possibility “world length of 256” is actually some kind of cypher key. Like, not whatever it’s referencing, just “word length of 256” as a key. I severely doubt it, but if anyone wants to try it, be my guest.

Why am I telling you all this? Well, I kinda just wanted to tell someone, I guess. I’m going insane over most of the MV anyways, might as well share a bit of the madness. Also because of the content drought caused by me working on the MV video which is coming I promise but it’s going to take a while-

Anyways, thanks for reading my inane ramblings for so long! Take care!

#drdt #danganronpa despair time #drdt mv #can you even call this a theory?#it’s just a series of failures #like my life #/j

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eternal-echoes · 3 months

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“One aspect of ancient Greek philosophy that constituted a bridge to Catholic thought is the suggestion that there is a certain kind of life that befits a chimpanzee, and one that befits a human being. Possessed of reason, the human being is not condemned to act on mere instinct. He is capable of moral reflection, an ability that must always elude even the cleverest specimens of the animal kingdom. Should he fail to exercise this faculty, then he never lives up to his own nature. If he will not engage in intellectual activity or serious moral reckoning when it comes to his own behavior, then what is the point of his being human in the first place? If one's guiding principle is to do whatever brings immediate pleasure, one is in a sense no different from a beast.

The Church teaches that a life truly befitting humanity requires the assistance of divine grace. Even pagan Romans perceived something of the degraded condition of man: "What a contemptible thing is man," wrote Seneca, "if he fail to rise above the human condition!" The grace of God could help him do so. Here the Church has held out the examples of the saints, who demonstrate that lives of heroic virtue are possible when human beings let themselves decrease so that Christ may increase.

The Church teaches that a good life is not simply one in which our external actions are beyond reproach. Christ insists that it is not enough merely to refrain from murder or adultery; not only must the body not yield to such crimes, but the soul must also keep from leaning toward them. Not only should we not steal from our neighbor, but we should also not allow ourselves to indulge in envious thoughts about his possessions. Although we are certainly permitted to hate what is evil—sin, for example, or Satan himself—we are to divorce ourselves from the kind of anger and hatred that only corrode the soul. We are not only not to commit adultery, but we are also not to entertain impure thoughts, for to do so turns one of our fellow human beings into a thing, a mere object. Someone wishing to lead a good life should not want to make a fellow human being into a thing.

It has been said that to do anything well is difficult, and that living as a human being rather than as a beast is no exception. It requires moral seriousness and self-discipline. Socrates had famously said that knowledge was virtue, that to know the good was to do the good. Aristotle and St. Paul knew better, for we can all recall moments in our lives at which we knew perfectly well what the good was but did not do it, and likewise knew what was wrong but did do that. This is why Catholic spiritual directors instruct those under their charge to eat a carrot the next time we want a cupcake; not because cupcakes are evil, but because if we can get into the habit of disciplining our wills in cases in which no moral principle is at stake, then we shall be better prepared in the moment of temptation, when we are indeed faced with a choice between good and evil. And just as the more habituated we become to sin the easier further sin becomes, it is also true, as Aristotle observed, that virtuous living becomes ever easier the more we engage in it and the more it becomes a matter of habit.”

- Thomas E. Woods Jr., Ph.D., “The Church and Western Morality,” How the Catholic Church Built Western Civilization

#Catholic #Christianity #quotes #Thomas E. Woods #Western Civilization #morality

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bizaar · 10 months

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Cruel Summer Part 13

First - Previous - Next

pairings: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

summary: After breaking up, you and Eddie do your best to soldier on with your lives, but you slowly begin to discover that there is a stronger line of connection keeping you together than just history…

word count: 11.5k

warnings: swearing, descriptions of violence/the Demogorgon ate Barb, angst, fluff

A.N.: Happy Birthday to me and a very merry unbirthday to all of you! Thank you to everyone who sent such nice comments and asks after the last chapter, I really hope you all enjoy the update!!! if you see typos, no you don't :D

Dustin can’t decide who hates this plan more, Eddie or himself.

They’ll split into three teams, one at the Creel House to draw Vecna’s attention on this side, and two in the Upsidedown, one to lure the bats away from the house and hold them, and one to send the bastard to kingdom come while his guard is down.

Simple and more or less straightforward… until a very frustrating though decidedly no less valid question is raised: how do you know the plan is even going to work?

Which is to say, how are you going to make sure the bats will do what they’re supposed to and leave the house unguarded when Team Distraction turns the volume up?

Because if Dustin and Eddie can’t guarantee that their distraction will lure the bats — all of the bats — then Steve, Nancy, and Robin won’t be able to get into the house, and if they can’t get in the house, then they’re dead in the water before they’ve even begun.

As so often happens when the dark storm cloud of sobering truth rolls in on the horizon, they all come to the same simultaneous conclusion.

It strikes like a bolt of lightning in the distance — a brief purpling flash that is so sudden you can’t be sure it was even there until its presence is validated by the staggered clap of thunder following dutifully behind.

That’s what the realization feels like. Loud, pervasive, numbing. It leaves Dustin’s ears ringing in the hollowness it leaves behind.

One of you is going to have to get out there and do something to lure the bats away — one of you is going to have to be bait.

Naturally, nobody is exactly eager to throw their name into the running for that prestigious task, least of all Dustin, who is under no delusions about being an athlete of any capacity.

He’s a Hawkins Middle AV club alumnus for Christ’s sake, not exactly the picture of physical prowess.

The notion itself is enough to set something cold and heavy settling in the pit of his stomach, like something out of a stress-induced nightmare — he knows no one is going to ask him to be the bait, but there is still that nagging pressure of worry.

He can’t imagine what he’ll do if the task falls to him, he can’t imagine what any of you will do. More to the point, he can’t imagine any of you being stupid enough to willingly go and put your life on the line like that.

Only that is not expressly true. Steve would do something that stupid, and he doesn’t even have to imagine it as the older boy steps bravely forward into their Socratic huddle.

“I’ll do it,” He says, nodding solemnly like he’s just presented himself to steward the one ring to Mordor … though probably not, because Steve wouldn’t get that reference in the first place.

He’s not Frodo Baggins, he’s just a big brave dog too stupid to know when to stay quiet and save his own life.

Thankfully, the suggestion goes over more or less like a lead balloon.

“That’s not gonna work, Steve,” Nancy says, a messy halo of curls dancing about her features as she shakes her head, pursing her lips.

The sting of her rejection is immediately evident across Steve’s face, and Dustin has to wonder just how much of that bravery is actually just plain, old fashioned peacocking to try and impress her.

Even if it isn't, there is not much of an argument to be made against the refusal of his offer, considering the general consensus of the room is more or less in agreement with her.

It leaves him visibly deflated.

Dustin doesn’t fault him for suggesting he be the one to do it. It is nothing less than entirely on brand for Steve — big damn hero that he is — but in this specific case, it’s more of bonehead thinking rather than the noble gesture he imagines he thinks it is.

“Why not?” Steve presses, speaking to Nancy more than anyone else in the room, “I’ll lead them away and double back — it’ll take ten minutes tops.”

He makes a show of dusting his hands of imaginary grime before presenting her with his empty palms, impressing absolutely no one, Nancy especially.

“Yeaaaah…” Eddie says through his teeth, stretching the word like he knows he’s got something to say that Steve won’t thank him for, “Only that didn’t work so good for you last time, did it, Bud?”

His head lolls left to press his ear to his shoulder as he levels him with a knowing look, squinting at him and scrunching his features in a way that could almost be misconstrued as apologetic.

And he’s right, Steve does not thank Eddie for so graciously pointing out the shortcomings of his last expedition to the Upsidedown.

“Last time I wasn’t running away, Bud.” Steve deadpans, hurling the pet name back at him with perhaps a tad too much vitriol. “They caught me off guard, I’ll be ready for them this time.”

It does nothing to breathe any confidence into their group as a dissenting murmur passes through the cabin of the RV.

Dustin thinks deep down they all know they probably should let Steve do it, despite their misgivings.

He’s really the only one among them with the prerequisite skills for the job – all those sports he played – but there is still a glaringly obvious issue with that plan because Steve has already assigned himself a pivotal role, one Robin is all too happy to remind him of.

“Listen, Stevie.” She starts, “We all know you’re super impressive or whatever, but this is one thing we don’t need you Galahading yourself over — you’re supposed to be running point up at the house so Nancy can light Vecna’s ass up, remember?”

“Well, I don’t see anyone else volunteering.” He snaps, crossing his arms over his chest and making a point to scan the room in an expectant glare, suddenly towering over them like some kind of angry lighthouse sweeping the shoreline for signs of life.

Dustin does his best to shrink out of his line of sight when it passes over him.

He’s got no business volunteering for something like this, and even if he did, he’s already got his own job with Eddie, acting as his roadie of sorts — at least he thinks so, that’s how Eddie had described it and for his lack of expertise on the matter all he can do is agree.

If he had to pick someone, Lucas is probably the best substitute for Steve, but he’s got to stay with Max on this side just in case Vecna’s hold grows a little too tight and a musical intervention is needed.

It’s a moot point, anyway, because they’ve already left that group at the Creel House, and Dustin can’t feasibly see doubling back for them just because the plan has changed.

As far as he can tell, Steve is right, and there’s no one else left to be the bait.

“I can do it.” You offer then, speaking in a small, tentative voice from where you’ve tucked yourself in at the other side of the camper.

There is a shift in the group as everyone moves at once to find the source of the voice, staring in an almost stunned silence like they’d forgotten you were there.

Dustin feels his heart seize in his chest in a violent spasm that has his intestines responding accordingly.

Oh, God!

His eyes go wide as he whips around to regard you with something that can only stem from the gut-wrenching, pants-shitting terror he is suddenly gripped in.

Not you, anyone but you!

Beside you, Eddie mirrors the motion, head snapping up so quickly Dustin is half surprised it doesn’t roll right off his shoulders and across the length of the RV.

Under such tense scrutiny, you wilt ever so slightly, glancing nervously around the room, looking for any kind of a reaction.

And nobody outright rejects the suggestion like they had with Steve, much to Dustin’s abject horror.

“I’ll do it.” You say again, this time with a little more confidence, giving a subtle nod as if to punctuate the affirmation.

Dustin, of course, is ardently against it, but has found that he has been rendered suddenly and woefully mute by the complete and total shock of your suggestion.

Eddie is thankfully not caught in those doldrums, and he is all too happy to tell you exactly how he feels.

“Like hell you will,” He gawps.

For the lack of any higher functioning brain power, all Dustin can manage is a stupid, emphatic nodding, and when the initial shock begins to fade and more of his brain starts to switch on again, he searches the room for the naysayers of the earlier moment.

He waits for the dissenting murmur, the interjections from prevailing cooler heads going on to explain exactly why you cannot, in fact, be the bait, but they never come.

It’s just Eddie, telling you you’re crazy if you think he’s gonna let you get out there, and Dustin frantically nodding along like a goddamn bobblehead.

“Why not?” You demand, sounding almost offended that he would disagree.

“Because it’s a suicide mission.” Eddie presses, putting harsh emphasis on the last two words.

You narrow your eyes.

“Oh, please,” you start, but he doesn’t let you finish.

“Babe,” the pet name causes Dustin’s skin to prickle uncomfortably, Eddie doesn’t seem to notice, “You weren’t there, okay? You don’t know what’s down there–”

“Giant vampire bats?” You deadpan, quirking a brow.

He wires his jaw shut and glares at you.

“And a whole network of vines and tentacles and creepy crawlies that report directly back to the fucker himself,” He presses, only he doesn’t know the half of it.

“Not to mention the Demogorgon,” Dustin says.

The room reacts appropriately at the mention of the foe of their past.

You remain unimpressed where you stand, but Eddie twists slowly to regard Dustin with a highly suspicious look.

“...I’m sorry…” He begins slowly, “The what?”

Steve answers for him, dismissing the question with a vague gesture.

“It’s like I told you, Munson,” he says, “We’ve been through all this before,”

“Only this time, we don’t have the benefit of having a girl with—” Robin starts, but Eddie cuts her off.

“Superpowers, yeah, you mentioned — can we just circle back to that Demogorgon thing?”

“…that’s what happened to Barb.” Nancy says then, getting this strange, haunted look in her eyes as she speaks – the color drains from her face, “… what really happened…”

The room goes eerily silent, leaving Eddie fumbling to understand what such a cryptic comment could possibly mean.

He looks from face to face, confusion etching itself deeper and deeper into his features as he waits for someone to elaborate.

“What do you mean what really happened?” He finally demands.

They don’t have to say it, their silence speaks volumes — Barbara Holland’s disappearance had been big news for almost a year — almost bigger than Will’s disappearance, death, and subsequent resurrection.

An honor student ups and skips town out of the blue? Not a chance in hell, not Barb, at least.

As far as Dustin can tell from the hushed conversations he’d overheard his mother having, most people didn’t outright believe it, even if only quietly so.

They preferred to keep their heads in the sand and keep the horrific alternative to themselves: that something terrible had happened to Barb right there in their sleepy little town, and she was never coming back.

It's no wonder the good people of Hawkins had grown progressively more wary of things that didn’t expressly fit their happy little narrative over the last couple of years.

If only they knew just how right they were to be afraid.

Eddie blanches as it dawns on him – the bats aren’t the only thing down there that can and will eat you alive if you’re caught.

“Oh, shit.” He mumbles.

Then, like you hadn’t heard a thing they��d just said about the bestiary of horrors waiting for them on the other side, you shake your head.

“I don’t care what’s down there –” You scoff, dismissing the truth of Barb’s horrific and untimely demise with a flippant gesture.

Eddie whips back around to level you with an incredulous look – eyes out on stalks and as big as dinner plates.

“You gotta be kidding,” He stresses, “Didn’t you hear what they said? Something down there ate Barb.”

“Nobody said that.” You snap.

“Henderson—!” Eddie practically shouts, whipping around to glare at Dustin, though he hardly thinks the look is meant for him, especially with the way Eddie thrusts an accusatory finger back at you, “Tell her!”

“The Demogorgon ate Barb.” Dustin drawls.

Somewhere to his left, Nancy flinches and he can’t help but feel a pang of regret for putting it in such crass terms, but it is very important to him that you understand the ramifications of what you were about to do. The danger you are putting yourself in.

You roll your eyes in that same maddening way you always do that lets Dustin know exactly what you’re thinking – that this is all nothing more than D&D bullshit and that they’re blowing it out of proportion to try and scare you out of volunteering. He wishes it were as simple as all that.

He wishes that he wasn’t stuck thinking about the faceless horror that has haunted his dreams since that night in 1983 back at Hawkins Middle.

And then he feels eyes on him, boring holes into the side of his face. Dustin turns to find Eddie staring at him, brows pulled tight over his eyes, still wide and fearful as the question he doesn’t want to ask forms on the tip of his tongue.

It hadn’t occurred to Dustin that Eddie didn’t actually expect him to back him up like that, that he didn’t really believe that’s what happened. He was just being dramatic, like always, how was he supposed to know he was right on the money?

It’s visibly sobering, and Eddie clenches his jaw as the urge to ask about it escapes him, and he levels Dustin with a knowing look, nodding curtly.

Yes, the Demogorgon had, in fact, eaten Barbara Holland, as plain and simple and horrific a fact as that. Nothing more need be said about it.

And honestly, a lot more could be said, because that’s not even the worst thing that has happened since the Upsidedown came crashing up into their world, but somehow Dustin knows that nothing he says is going to be enough to deter you.

“Look, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m the only one who doesn’t have a part to play in this.” You huff.

You bet your ass you don’t.

You had, in fact, been excluded by design, because that’s the way Eddie wanted it, and Dustin was only happy to agree with him, much to your patent dismay.

Every single one of your arguments had come with just as many explanations as to why you couldn’t go — the least of which were that, despite the new bandages Karen Wheeler had wrapped your hand in, you’re still injured, just as you had stressed on the shore of Lover’s Lake the night before.

“So what?” Dustin huffs.

“So, it’s not fair.” You grouse, halfway to whining about it before Eddie shuts you down.

“Life’s not fair, Sweetheart,” He says. “The sooner you realize that the better.”

Harsh but true, Dustin thinks.

Anyway, what you said is not expressly true – you do have a job. An important job that keeps you very far removed from danger of any kind — you’re supposed to guard the gate in Eddie’s living room from this side in the unlikely event someone comes snooping, and you’re extremely unhappy about it.

Normally, that would fill Dustin with some sort of gut-wrenching guilt, but as far as he can tell he doesn’t give a shit about how you feel right now.

He only cares about keeping you safe.

You’d already sat arguing about it back in the field when the details of the plan were laid out, nearly spoiling what was just about the closest thing Dustin has experienced to a perfect moment with you in months — running around and playing in the grass in a fit of euphoric, childlike whimsy. It was almost enough to make him forget that there was anything wrong in the world.

That all came crashing down the moment Steve called you back to the camper.

“We really should have someone standing by in case the cops come poking around,” Dustin had tried to explain to your angry, pacing form after they’d broken the news that you were not invited to cross the gate with them. “A-and since you’re so good at thinking on your feet—”

It did nothing to soften the blow of rejection. You’d silenced him with an angry look and spent the next half hour quietly fuming in the furthest corner of the RV you could squeeze yourself into.

And now you’re volunteering to smear yourself in blood and go willingly into the lion’s den, and no one is disagreeing that it should be you. If that isn’t some form of cosmic justice…

That’s perhaps what distresses Dustin the most, that you’ve volunteered to go and die, and everyone is just going to let you do it.

In a shocking turn of events, suddenly he and Eddie are the only sane ones among you.

“This is ridiculous , you guys–”

“No, you’re not doing it.” Eddie says, slicing the air in a clipped gesture, “End of story. Harrington? Tell her.”

You scoff and open your mouth to protest the supposed finality of the statement, and by extension what Dustin can only imagine is a healthy dose of outrage over any kind of decision involving you being left up to Steve of all people, but he is quick to jump in before you can say anything.

“Steve!” He stresses, “Tell her!”

It catches him woefully off guard and Dustin watches as something a little closer to panic than he is comfortable with flashes across Steve’s features. Like being unexpectedly called on in class when you haven’t been paying attention.

Thick brows shoot up toward that immaculate hairline before bouncing back to furrow over Steve’s eyes.

He flexes his jaw and breathes in deeply through his nose, and after a moment’s hesitation, he finally opens his mouth to say… nothing. Dustin can’t believe it.

He could scream.

In all the time he’s known him, Steve has never been caught without some kind of a smooth one-liner, a witty comeback. Of all the time Dustin has known him, he has never once been rendered speechless.

There’s a first time for everything, sure, but why on God’s green Earth did it have to be now? It’s just bad timing.

Steve stands there, working his jaw like a gaping fish for another agonizing moment of deafening silence, even turning to Robin and Nancy for some kind of support – they have nothing to offer but incredulous stares – but it’s no use, he well and truly has no idea what to say.

You’ve started in again before he can get much more out than a bitten-off “Uuuuhhh….”

“I’m not just gonna wait around babysitting a hole in the ceiling while you all put your lives on the line,” You bite, and somehow Dustin can’t help but get the sense that even though you’re addressing the room, you’re speaking directly to him – to Eddie, who has spent the duration of your spiel violently shaking his head in outright rejection.

He hardly lets you finish before he makes a harsh sound of incredulous disbelief.

“No.”

“Eddie–”

“No!”

“Will you shut up and let me do this?” You shout, “I’ll lead the bats away from the house and make them chase me back here–”

Eddie barks out a bitter laugh that has you clamping your jaw shut with enough force that Dustin hears your teeth click together.

“Right, just like you led Jason and those fuckers away from Rick’s place?” He snaps, his words dripping with disdain, “How’s the hand, by the way? Still hurts?”

Despite their united front, Dustin can’t help the stirring sense of injustice Eddie’s tone kicks up in his chest, rattling around like embers in his ribcage.

He’s not the enemy here, regardless of what his guts are trying to tell him, but the urge to defend you has long since been stronger than any of Dustin’s natural instincts.

Of course, you don’t need him to come running to your rescue – you never have, and he’s starting to suspect that you never will. Some small part of him aches with the grief of that realization. He doesn’t know why, but it feels like a loss.

Suddenly it’s like you don’t even know he’s there anymore, with the way you’re looking at Eddie. Glaring at him like you’re the only two people in the room. It’s strangely charged, almost intimate, and it makes Dustin’s insides go squirmy like he’s witnessing something torrid.

Somehow it feels like the scene playing out before them is not for their eyes, and Dustin wonders briefly if they ought to leave the room, leave the two of you to this moment.

He watches you bristle, sees your gaze turn to white hot steel, and feels his insides clench for it.

His concern swings hard away from you to land on Eddie’s shoulders, then. Under the molten heat of your anger, he is surely about to whither and melt down to the bone.

Dustin thinks he ought to do something to try and protect him from that, but he doesn’t dare put himself in your line of site. Eddie is made of much stronger stuff than he is, he doesn’t need his help.

“Don’t be an asshole,” You warn him through your teeth.

Eddie throws up his hands and offers you a sarcastic smile, tilting his head ever so slightly like this is all just good, harmless fun.

“Babygirl, I’ll be whatever I need to be to stop you from doing this.” He says, “Because this is a stupid fucking plan, you’re gonna get yourself killed and when you do, I’m gonna say I told you so.”

Each point is punctuated by a sharp poke to your shoulder with his index and middle finger, firm enough to jostle you each time he hits home – you slap his hand away before he can poke you again.

“And here I thought chivalry was dead.” You hum, a harsh, clipped thing oozing with disdain.

Thankfully, before either of you can really start to fight about it, Robin interjects.

“Children – enough!” She shouts, breaking the spell - you both shrink away from the moment, settling back with arms crossed tightly over your chests, doing your utmost to avoid looking at one another.

Robin continues.

“We don’t have time to sit around and watch you two go another ten rounds, okay? We’re on a ticking clock here so both of you need to grow up or go in the back and bang out whatever the hell is going on here. Get it out of your system.”

A momentary if not bone-crushing silence falls over the cabin as Robin’s words hang heavy in the air.

It does nothing to help the awkwardness of the moment when Eddie perks up, brows jumping toward his hairline as he gestures toward the pullout haphazardly folded up at the back of the RV.

You roll your eyes, and Dustin pulls a disgusted face.

He looks to Steve for some kind of commiseration only to find him and Nancy fidgeting awkwardly and trying to avoid looking at each other.

Robin looks decidedly pleased with herself as she continues, evidently more than happy to have made the moment exceedingly more awkward than need be.

“Now,” She says, “Everyone is making valid points on both sides. Is this gonna be dangerous? Yes. Is she more than likely going to get seriously injured if not violently dismembered attempting this? Absolutely, but that doesn’t make it an excessively bad plan—”

“It doesn’t?” Eddie scoffs, which only serves to draw Robin’s attention as she sticks him to the spot with a very pointed look.

“Eddie...” she drawls.

He squares his shoulders and levels her with an expectant if not uninterested look, hugging himself that much tighter like he’s bracing for whatever it is she’s bound to hurl his way.

Robin continues, gesturing to you as she speaks.

“She’s a grown woman – fully consenting – if she wants to get out there and get her ass eaten, that’s her decision to make, not yours.”

Dustin doesn't realize there’s any sort of innuendo behind the words, intended or otherwise, until Eddie makes a harsh, choked sound in the back of his throat.

Almost immediately, his hand drifts up like he means to clap it over his mouth but switches gears at the last moment to rub at the faint hint of stubble shadowing his jawline, trying his damnedest to hide a less-than-subtle smile.

“Jesus – that’s one way of putting it.” He says, pulling his lower lip in past his teeth.

“Eddie.” You say then, voice lilting in a gently critical tone as your brows come down over your eyes.

The tension of the previous moment evaporated in an instant, and Dustin doesn’t understand why everyone is suddenly fidgeting and rolling their eyes.

Nancy makes a soft sound of disapproval in the back of her throat, and suddenly he feels like something has flown right over his head.

He hates being the only one not in on the joke. Max might have been able to explain it to him if not entirely unwilling, maybe even Lucas, but on his own he is hopelessly lost among this group of older kids.

“What?” He can’t help himself from asking, looking from face to face as everyone quickly avoids his gaze, “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” You say immediately, “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

Dustin still doesn’t get it, but there’s no air in the conversation to ask what exactly he’s missing before Robin addresses you in turn.

There is the faintest pink tinge to her cheeks as she says your name in a commanding if not entirely sheepish way.

You lean over to smack Eddie’s quivering shoulder as he continues to fight the losing battle against the fit of giggles still threatening to overtake him.

Before Robin can speak, Steve swoops in, taking her by the arm and literally tugging her back from the center of the huddle.

She wrenches her arm out of his grasp and levels him in a harsh glare.

“Come on, Rob, give it a rest–” He starts, but Nancy quickly cuts him off.

“No, she’s right,” She says, then turns to you, “You ought to know what you’re volunteering for”

You, in turn, tilt your head to the right to press your ear to your shoulder.

“Running like hell and hoping they’ll try to make a meal out of me, right?” You deadpan, quirking a brow.

Like cracking a window at forty thousand feet, all the air is immediately sucked out of the room, taking any sense of levity with it as your words hang heavy in the air.

Dustin can’t stand it.

“Oh, come on… come on! There’s gotta be another way.” He presses, “Somebody has got to have a better idea than this.”

A heavy silence falls over the room, one that leaves a hollow ringing in Dustin’s ears as he waits for someone – anyone to speak.

Somebody has got to have something in the back pocket, some kind of last-ditch hair-brained scheme that doesn’t require anyone to make prey out of themselves.

It’s so quiet he’s half surprised he doesn’t hear the telltale chirping of crickets.

“Seriously?” He demands, “Nobody?”

When Dustin looks to Eddie for help, even he has suddenly become far too interested in his sneakers, hanging his head until his features are obscured by a frizzy curtain of hair.

It’s madness. It’s got to be some kind of spontaneous contagious insanity that only he is immune to, Dustin can’t think of what else could have such a hold on your tiny group that they’re actually genuinely considering letting you do this.

Steve rolls his neck in a halfhearted shrug, like this time he’s the one with something to say that is going to be hard to swallow.

“It’s the closest thing to a guarantee we have,” He mumbles, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck. “And she’s the only one here freed up to do it…”

“No way!” Dustin says, whirling around to level you with a horrified look, “You know this is crazy, right? You’re gonna get yourself killed!”

“We’re all gonna get ourselves killed.” You argue. “But if I can buy us a little time before that happens and make sure we take Vecna with us…?”

He shakes his head violently back and forth, hard enough that it just about dislodges the cap from his head.

“Let Steve do it.” He begs, “Steve, tell her you’ll do it–”

He knows he’s whining, he sounds like a petulant child who has just been told something they don’t want to hear – totally uncool – but he doesn’t really care.

He wants to grab you by the shoulders and shake you until it knocks this parasitic idea loose from your brain and you see reason again.

“Steve’s gotta make sure Nancy gets to Vecna.” You snap.

It drives him to the desperate edge, and before he even realizes what he’s doing, Dustin hurls himself out after you into the abyss.

“Then I’ll do it.”

There, finally, comes that dissenting murmur again, snatching him back from the precipice and placing him gently back on the ledge. It’s a rescue that comes too little too late and for the wrong person because you’re still freefalling.

The room fills with a dull discordant roar as all of a sudden everyone seems to have something to say, admonishing him for even suggesting the notion.

On one side he’s got Steve already halfway through a lecture about what will happen to him if he lets Dustin go and do something that stupid, meanwhile, Eddie is reminding him that just because he can do something in D&D it doesn’t qualify him to do the same thing in real life.

Everyone talking at once is at best, mildly overwhelming, and at worst, giving Dustin a headache, but at least everyone is focusing on him rather than agreeing to let you offer yourself up in the Upsidedown.

It feels almost like a chance, like maybe somehow he can grab you and whisk you away from all of this while everyone is distracted.

Maybe he’ll be the one to save you this time – if no one else will do it, he has to save you.

He should know better not to hope for things like that.

“Enough,” You snap, silencing everyone with the sharp utterance of the word – you level Dustin with a look that has him wilting under its heat, “This is happening. It’s gonna be me whether you like it or not. It has to be me.”

There’s no arguing with you because there’s never any point in it when you get like this. You are a mountain and he is the wind, and no matter how he gusts and howls and rants and raves, you will not be moved … a big stupid, stubborn mountain, and that’s that.

As quickly as it began, the debate fizzles out, and the decision is made. Everyone quietly moves to take their places in the RV again.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The sun is setting when you arrive, fiery claw marks cut the horizon to ribbons and set it ablaze with oranges and pinks and the faintest smear of purple. It sends a strange chill running down your spine, despite how relatively safe you still are on this side. The danger isn’t here, it’s lurking just below your feet.

For obvious reasons, you leave the RV parked among the trees and cross the threshold back into the Forest Hills trailer park on foot. You move silently, single file like good little ducklings weaving in and out of the trailers, broken down lawn furniture, and laundry lines.

It’s strangely abandoned, eerily so.

The only sound other than the gentle hum of the odd generator or the quiet murmuring of a television is the crunch of yellowing grass underfoot. Every step is like breaking glass and you have to work to remind yourself to breathe.

You’re leading the way, which is not something you would have typically volunteered for, but among the lot of you, you’ve got the most experience sneaking around the trailer park (besides Eddie of course, but he’s not exactly the ideal candidate to go playing Percy Faucet) so it’s you, just like you’d told Dustin back in the RV.

It has to be you.

He’s actively ignoring you now, which is not something you’re sure you’ve ever experienced.

Sure, he’s been mad at you for one reason or another over the years, it would be hard to spend so much time as an authority figure in his life and not have some kind of disagreement crop up between you eventually.

But this time he’s pissed at you for good reason and you can’t rightly blame him for feeling so.

There’s nothing to be done about it. The plan needs bait and you need to feel included, one way or another – you know he’s got to understand that, even if he refuses to admit it.

Even Eddie is resigned to the fact that you’re the only person for this job, as much as you know it’s eating him up inside.

You arrive at the Munson trailer in no time at all and hold the door as you usher your companions inside – Eddie first.

His mattress remains where you left it, along with the cascading fall of bedsheets knotted together, standing in suspended animation. You do your best not to look at it, or anything else you don’t expressly have to as you follow the last of your party through the door and shut it tightly behind you.

You tell yourself that you’re not going to look at the hole in the ceiling again until you have absolutely no other choice, which is to say until you’re crossing through it.

A shudder passes through your body at the thought, grinding through you like the crunch of tectonic plates – you’re still not entirely convinced the thing isn’t going to sprout teeth and snap shut on you before you can slip through to the other side.

You’re also not entirely sure you even want to go to the other side, the place where bats had nearly liberated Steve’s head from his body and where Barbara Holland had evidently been dragged screaming into an untimely, violent death – but what choice do you have?

You have to go, especially after the fuss you’d kicked up in the RV.

Before you can get very far down the line of trying to decide whether or not you’ve made a terrible mistake, Eddie is there, pressed to your side and snaking his hand down to link fingers with you.

You’re close enough that when you turn to look at him, your noses are nearly touching, and all your senses are flooded with him.

The rough pads of his scarred fingers brushing against your skin, the smell of his sweat intermingling with tobacco and something earthier. Some small part of you is worried it’s too intimate for the company you keep, but the way his presence soothes the fearful fluttering of your heart won’t let you protest the proximity.

He pacifies your worries with just a touch and suddenly you don’t care about the hole in the ceiling or the lapse in gravity or the monsters on the other side or anything else threatening to break your brain, all you think is Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

“Come with me.” He says quietly and pulls you back through the kitchenette.

You follow, and for half a moment, you think he may be leading you back toward the bedroom.

Your numbers make for tight quarters in the trailer, especially with everyone trying to maneuver the mattress laid out in the middle of the floor, you imagine if Eddie needed a private moment with you, there isn’t a better place to find one than the bedroom.

Before you can make it too far down the hall, however, he pivots left and twists the handle of the side door leading to the porch.

An interesting development – you are suddenly gripped in the vice of curiosity and feel the gentle pattering of your heart as a hundred different possibilities race through you.

“Where are you going?” Dustin calls from where he’d been sulking somewhere behind you, and when Eddie ignores him, he raises his voice, “Eddie! Where are you going?”

He’s already halfway out the door when he pauses, hardly turning to acknowledge Dustin as he speaks.

“We’ll be right back,” Eddie says.

You’re almost relieved when Dustin’s eyes flit over to you, silently gesturing at you in the expectation that you’ll give him some sort of answer you don’t have.

All you can do is shrug as Eddie pulls you through the door with a gentle tug.

Your unexpected departure kicks up about as much fuss as you expect it would.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” Steve grouses, nearly stumbling over the coffee table in his hurried attempt to follow you to the door. “What now?”

“We shouldn’t split up, you guys,” Nancy calls, following Steve, “Not when things are so close.”

Eddie pays them no mind as he heads for the rickety staircase, half rotten from disuse as much as years under the elements.

You’ve never known him to use it, opting always to leap down from the elevated porch instead, garnering many a twisted ankle in his day. You wonder if it’s only his insistence on playing follow the leader that has him taking the safer route for once.

“Don’t worry about it,” Eddie assures them.

“I am worried about it!” Steve snaps, “Eddie – you’re the most wanted person in Roane County and you guys are just gonna… what, you‘re gonna run off and find a quiet spot to … hash things out real quick?”

“What’s the problem, Steve?” You sigh, stopping short on the top step and holding Eddie firm to the spot below you.

You don’t have time for an argument, particularly out in the open air where any one of his neighbors could take a peek out the window and spy him standing there.

Steve is right, but you don’t have to let him know that. As always, he’s all too happy to spell his point out for you.

“The problem is they’re out there looking for him.” Steve drawls, aggressively stretching the words like he thinks you’re stupid or something. ��What part of this seems like a good idea?”

Eddie levels him with a poisonous look.

“Hey Man, this is your stupid plan–” He bites, “You’re the one who said we need the goddamn bait, so we’re going out there and we’re gonna walk the route as many times as it takes for her to memorize it.”

If that’s true, it’s news to you and you can’t say you’re expressly pleased to hear it.

You’d always done your utmost to avoid the Creel House, considering its reputation for being haunted. That doesn’t mean you don’t know exactly where it is from anywhere you’ve spent a decent amount of time in the duration of your life in Hawkins, if only to make damn sure you steer as clear as you possibly can.

You don’t need Eddie to walk the route with you, but you’re also not going to contradict him when he’s in a mood like this.

Steve, unfortunately, is not clued in enough to pick up on the venom coursing through Eddie’s veins.

“It’s a straight shot through the woods from here to there, what’s to memorize?” His tone is oozing with sarcasm, but you refuse to let him ruffle your feathers.

Whatever this is is important enough to Eddie to risk exposure, so you’ll humor him, and in the meantime, you’ll play nice with Steve so that he’ll let you go without a fight.

You shake your head and offer him a lopsided shrug.

“It’s like you said,” You say innocently, “It’s a straight shot, so that means we’ll be back in no time.”

Robin appears in the doorway beside him then and pokes her head out, looking curiously between the standoff.

Your eyes meet.

“How long did he say it would take him?” You ask, “Ten minutes tops?”

Ten minutes running, maybe, much closer to twenty-five at a walk, hurried as it is sure to be. Still, she snorts out a burst of undainty laughter.

“You did say that, Steve-o.” She hums, elbowing Steve in the side when he doesn’t respond.

A thought flashes briefly across your mind, and you make quick work of undoing your tattered watchband.

“Here,” you say, tossing it to him, “You can even time us if you want.”

Steve catches the watch with the ease of a lifelong athlete and turns the thing over in his hands, staring down at it and evidently weighing the pros and cons of letting the two of you slip off to God knows where – you could not have told him if your life depended on it.

For all you know, you’re on your way out of town, getting out of Dodge before the shit can well and truly hit the fan.

Yesterday, you might have jumped at the chance, but there are bigger things on the horizon now than the promise you’d made to Wayne out on the road between the trailer park and Benny’s.

Whether you like it or not, you’ve both suddenly got a big part to play in all this. The window of opportunity to just slip away has long since slammed shut.

After a moment of chewing the inside of his lip, Steve finally relents, heaving a long-suffering sigh and running a hand through those perfectly stunning bouncy tresses.

“Fine.” He says, “Whatever, but you two better come right back. We’re short on time as it is, we don’t need any unexpected variables —” which is to say they don’t need to stage a rescue mission in the event that someone catches you out in the open.

He snaps his fingers into a point and aims the unbelievably smooth gesture at Eddie, “One time out and back, no detours.”

His shoulders drop as a little bit of the tension brimming there visibly goes out of him, and he gives a curt nod.

When Steve turns his pointing on you, you give him an enthusiastic if not ever so slightly sarcastic thumbs up.

“10-4, Good Buddy.” You say.

Eddie wastes no time after that leading you down the steps and across the park into the nearest copse of woodland, stealing away from the prying eyes of the neighborhood like a couple of horny teenagers sneaking off to fool around.

Somehow you don’t think you’ll get that lucky.

The sun is nearly gone by now, and despite the way it still holds the park in the warm luminescence of golden hour, the woods are steeped in deep blue shadow.

Eddie doesn’t say a word as you walk, he just holds tight to your hand and pulls you along. You do your best to keep up, but his legs are longer than yours and he’s like a man on a mission, cutting through the trees at such a pace.

Had you been paying any kind of attention to where you were walking, you would have very quickly noticed that your route is not angled toward the Creel House as he’d suggested, but you’re not focused on anything but the silent walking wall that is Eddie.

Staring at the broad stretch of his back, you can’t help but feel shut out. You wonder if he’s mad at you, but you swallow the urge to ask him about it. You know you’d only sound pathetic and whiny if you did.

Still, he’s giving you extremely conflicting signals, speaking so softly to you the way he had back at the trailer, holding your hand with such a gentle reverence, but pulling you along behind him to wherever you’re going with no sense of tenderness, all the while actively ignoring you.

Of course he’s mad, you tell yourself.

He’d been under the impression that this saga would come to an end without you taking part in it, far removed from danger, but he should know better that you won’t be content to just sit on the couch and wait this out while everyone puts their lives on the line.

A misplaced twinge of annoyance bites at your insides at the thought that Eddie could actually be angry at you over this, that he would be pig-headed enough to think you wouldn’t put up a fight over being so summarily benched.

You know he knows you better than that, which means he’s sticking his head in the sand and being stubborn for stubbornness' sake.

You might have laid into him about gender roles in situations of peril, the same you would have had it been you and Dustin out here in the woods, but you’re tired of fighting, so you bite your tongue and trudge along in silence, doing your best to match his gait.

The further you go, the darker it gets as the sun disappears from the world and night sets in. You have no idea how long you’ve been walking before the trees part – much longer than ten minutes, you’re sure.

When you finally reach a break in the woods, you realize with a start that you are not standing in front of the Creel House.

It’s the highway.

A lonely stretch of road somewhere nearer to the fairgrounds than the spooky Victorian, if you had to guess.

It is abandoned, pitch black save for the cosmos wheeling overhead. Hawkins has always suffered from an inexplicable excess of backwood roads completely lacking in streetlights of any kind, making for a rare lack of light pollution in this modern world.

Good for stargazing, but bad for walking anywhere after dark.

Where normally you curse the powers that be for its shoddy infrastructure, you’re thankful for the oversight now as you step out onto the shoulder, confident that in the shadows, you will remain blissfully hidden from sight.

Eddie hangs back as you pad carefully to the road and take a good long look in both directions. No impending cars, so far so good.

Once you’re satisfied that you’re alone, you twist back around to look curiously at him.

“What is this?” you ask.

He’s fidgeting with his rings, twisting the burnished pig’s head back and forth over his middle finger, and you get the sense that he’s not as mad as you’d thought he was. Much more anxious than anything else.

Suddenly you feel rather foolish for being angry at him for nothing at all.

“Remember back in ‘83?” He begins quietly, sounding almost shy, “When you were driving me around ‘cause the van died and I couldn’t afford to get it fixed?”

You nod, because of course, you do. You cherish those days.

Those first few tentative weeks you spent driving around with Eddie Munson in your passenger seat, flipping through your cassettes, messing with your rearview mirror, trading a hundred and one inane questions in an attempt to get to know each other better — you remember the thrill of scandal, how anyone could have looked in and seen the two of you together, going along almost conspiratorially.

You know for certain that you would have been the talk of the town had anyone cared to notice, but the good thing about being more or less an invisible person was how you could get away with something like quietly falling into step with Eddie Munson without anyone batting an eye.

By the time someone thought to check in on you, the two of you were already attached at the hip, and there was nothing to be done about it.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Eddie gestures to the spot at the side of the road.

“Time’s stuck down there. It’s still November ‘83,”

You pull a face, wondering idly if he can even see you at this distance.

“Yeah, I’m still having trouble with that one.” You tease, skipping back across the gravel to close the gap between you and Eddie.

He remains unamused by the levity of your mood – contrary to what you’d almost fooled yourself into believing, this is, in fact, not a romantic jaunt in the moonlight, and Serious Eddie has come out to play.

“Pay attention,” He presses, “This is important.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes – where had you heard that before?

“Important like that story about the raccoon?” Your attempt at humor falls flat and Eddie gives you a stony look – Serious Eddie is no fun, but you relent and raise your hands defensively, “Okay, you’re right, I’m sorry… so, time’s stuck. What does that mean exactly?”

It’s a subtle change, but you watch his shoulders drop as a little bit more of that lingering tension from back in the RV eases out of him.

“It means,” He says, “That the van’s gonna be sitting right here,”

You follow the motion when he points you back to the shoulder of the road, and you stand trying to imagine the big-bodied vehicle sitting there like a crouching beast, the way you’ve seen hundreds of times before.

“…and?” You prompt, stretching the word lyrically as you turn on your heel to face him again, gently urging him to get to the point.

It’s nearly pitch black now, and the others will be expecting you back. The last thing you need is Steve getting his panties in a twist and sending out a search party.

“And… if something happens – if things go wrong and you can’t make it back, I want you to go for the van.” Eddie says solemnly, reaching down and taking your hand, “Shut the doors and barricade yourself inside. You’ll be safe there until I can come and get you.”

You feel your face pull into a frown.

“That’s not part of the plan.” You tell him, gently admonishing him for trying to change things in secret.

Eddie heaves another one of those world weary sighs and shakes his head, messy curls dancing silver in the moonlight across the broad stretch of his shoulders.

“Fuck the plan.” He bites. “It’s a stupid plan.”

You open your mouth to protest such a dismissal — it’s the only plan you’ve got — but he’s quick to continue before you can get a word in edgewise.

“Look, I’m not gonna sit here and try to convince you not to do this – you’re so goddamn stubborn, we’ll be here all night – but I am gonna do everything I can to make sure you’ll be safe when things go wrong.”

“None of us can afford that luxury…”

He shakes his head.

“I don’t want to fight about it. Steve’s right. We’ve gotta make sure we’ve got our bases covered, including but not limited to the worst-case scenario.”

Which is to say in the event that everything goes horribly wrong and the monsters eat you alive and Vecna destroys the world.

Or maybe just in case the inevitability that you realize you’re not a track star and this being an impossible thing you’re trying to accomplish catches up to you.

How fast can you run? More importantly, how long can you keep up a sprint like that?

The answer is not something you’re expressly sure you’re ready to consider, but of course Eddie has to consider those possibilities — he’s a cynic.

Bad news first, always. Lucky for the both of you, you’ve always been more of an optimist.

“It’s a little over a mile from the Creel place to home,” Eddie says, and you glance reflexively down at your watch, conveniently forgetting that you’d given it to Steve before you left.

You give a lopsided shrug to try and mask the motion.

“Steve said ten minutes… I can totally do that.”

Eddie frowns.

“You think so?”

No, you really don’t, but you’re not about to let him know that because if you do you’ll never hear the end of it. So instead, you offer a vague gesture that you hope is at least half as casual as you mean for it to be. It doesn’t feel like a successful move.

“Yeah,” You say, your voice squeaks out an octave higher than normal, and you press your lips into a tight line against how scared you suddenly sound, “Sure, why not?”

Because you’re not a track star? Because you’d nearly killed yourself just jogging across town less than three days ago and now you’re out here pretending like you’re some kind of Olympic gold medalist preparing for the hundred-yard dash?

Eddie gives you a hard, indiscernible look that makes your insides squirm. Somehow you know he can see right through the bullshit coating to your gooey, terrified center.

You watch as he searches your face for the answer to an unknowable question, and you see a quick flash of the feeling you’d only just managed to suppress. It’s brief, but it’s clear as day, illuminating his features like a bolt of lightning in the distance.

Doubt.

You know he’d never say so, but he clearly doesn’t think you can do this. Usually that would have been enough to stir up some kind of violent indignation in you, but suddenly you’re not entirely sure you can do this either.

Sure, you’d done your fair share of sprints in gym class, but this isn’t jogging a twelve-minute mile just to scrape by with a passing grade, this isn’t even making a mad dash from the boat house to the woods to try and escape Jason and the others – which had failed miserably, as Eddie had so graciously pointed out to you.

This is running as hard and fast as you can until your body is pumping battery acid and your legs threaten to buckle beneath you. It’s running for your goddamn life and the lives of everyone else involved.

If you don’t make it, no one does, so no pressure, right?

“How far did you say it was?” You squeak, swallowing hard to try and conceal the tremble in your voice.

“A mile…” Eddie says, “Maybe closer to two.”

Well, shit.

Still, you scoff and dismiss the notion with a wave.

“Easy peasy–” You lie.

He shakes his head and chides your flippancy with a gravelly utterance of your name, which you candidly ignore.

“–lemon squeezy.”

Eddie says your name again, harsher this time, and grabs you by the arm in an effort to try and bring you back down to earth from the cloud of your delusions, but a sudden flash of lights stops your arguing before it can begin again.

Headlights on the road warn you of the car coming around the bend and send your heart rocketing up into your throat.

Eddie swears harshly under his breath and takes your hand as you scramble back toward the treeline.

He pulls you down into the underbrush and you don’t even mind the way your hip lights up in pain as you land awkwardly, holding your breath as you watch the pickup come into view.

It rolls down the road at a glacial pace, adorned with four angry floodlights that illuminate your little copse of woods and briefly blind you.

Through the spots and colors dancing across your vision, you can only just make out the handful of bodies stuffed into the cab, two more kneeling in the truck bed with roving flashlights in one hand and guns in the other.

Christ, they’ve got guns…

You sink a little lower and move instinctually closer to Eddie as if somehow you’ll be able to shield him from them if it comes to it. As if your fragile, fleshy visage would do anything to protect him if they came out guns blazing.

Smarter than trying to make a human shield out of yourself would be to run, but could either of you really outrun a truck if your lives depended on it?

Not likely.

It makes you wonder how you ever expect to outrun these supposed giant vampire bats…

You suddenly feel trapped, like a rabbit, crouched and shaking in the underbrush under the threat of baying hounds, watching with wide unblinking eyes until the truck has passed on and the crunch and pop of tires on pavement fades into the night.

When it’s finally gone, you do your best to breathe deep against the stinging adrenaline coursing through your veins like a swarm of angry hornets, but suddenly your chest feels impossibly tight.

Steve was right, this was not a very smart thing for you to do and it's well past time you ought to be getting back.

Before you can think to say something, you feel Eddie’s touch as he guides you to look at him with a kind pressure on your jaw. You let him turn you and as you stare back into those big, sad eyes of his, you can’t help but feel a cold wave of doubt bleed into you.

How the hell are you going to do this? How could you be stupid enough to volunteer in the first place and why’d you put up such a fight about it?

What’s going to happen when you let everyone down?

You’re all going to get yourselves killed, that’s what.

For a moment, it’s all you can do to keep yourself together as you surge forward without thinking, nestling into the crook of his neck and his welcoming embrace. You sigh under the press of his arms as he pulls you close.

You take a handful of deep, staccato breaths, breathing him in and filling your head with the heady musk of everything that is wholly Eddie — sweat and smoke and sandalwood.

It takes you half a minute to stop shaking, and half a minute more before you feel whole enough to emerge. You offer him a weak smile when you do.

Eddie tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear and grips your shoulders firm enough that you’re half inclined to think you might bruise.

“Listen to me. Nobody needs you to be the hero here, okay?” he tells you, giving you a gentle shake for good measure. “You’ve already done enough, you don’t have to do this,”

You, in turn, reach up to bracket his face. He leans into it in a way you must think is instinctual at this point, and when your grip slides down to frame his neck, gracing the columns of his throat, you think for a moment you might kiss him, and if you don’t he’ll certainly kiss you.

Oh, how you wish he would.

Your eyes dart southward to regard the pillowy softness of his lips, cracked and chapped as they are, and you try to believe his words, despite how patently untrue they are — he still needs you.

“Everybody’s counting on me, Eds.” You hum, then tear your gaze up and away to meet his.

You watch as something flashes across his eyes, an indiscernible look that is tinged with an unmistakable sadness.

“Then promise me you’ll go for the van if you don’t think you’re gonna make it, okay?… Sweetheart, please… just do this one thing for me.”

You don’t answer, because you’re not entirely sure you can make that promise.

His expression softens and he breathes out a shaky, uneven breath, shoulders sagging as he tilts forward and presses his forehead to yours.

“What you said back at Rick’s goes both ways, you know?” He murmurs, “…I can’t lose you either… Not again.”

Your heart swells and thumps heavily against your ribs.

“What are you getting at, Munson?” You tease, because it’s all you can do to keep your emotions from bubbling up. “Spit it out.”

Eddie shakes his head, looking positively miserable as he speaks.

“I love you.” He says, “More than anything – more than everything, and I can’t … Jesus Christ, I’m so scared something’s going to happen and I won’t be there to save you…”

The sound tumbles out over your lips before you’re even aware of it bubbling up inside of you.

You giggle, and Eddie jerks back from you like the sound had jumped out and snapped at him.

You can’t help it, but it doesn’t make you feel any less guilty to see the hurt look he gives you, like a freshly kicked puppy.

You’re not laughing at him, per se, but you can understand how it might seem like you are. Nobody likes to be reminded of their shortcomings, so you’re quick to correct yourself.

“Oh, Eddie…” you sigh, smiling sweetly at him in the hopes it will ease the sting of what you’re about to say, “I love you, but this isn't the kind of thing you can save me from.”

It shouldn’t be startling, because it’s true. He'd said it himself, this is a suicide mission at its very best.

What is startling is the way Eddie reacts to hearing you say it, physically recoiling like you’d reached out with the sentiment and slapped him across the face.

“What did you just say?” Eddie gasps.

Suddenly he’s as serious as a heart attack and you’re worried you’ve misread the room. It leaves you reeling.

“...You can't save me?” You squeak out, half afraid of the hurt the statement is going to cause him if you ram it down his throat, despite how maddeningly true it is.

If things go as bad as he expects them to — which, to be quite honest, they very likely will — you don't expect Eddie is going to be able to pull you out of the frying pan, or the fire that follows, no matter how badly he wants to.

Still, his eyes grow bright and he shakes his head violently, sending his curls flying out in all directions.

His voice is tiny as he speaks.

“No ... before that." He says. "... you said you love me."

You blink back at him in a way you imagine must look owlish and quite stupid, and you watch as he grows strangely shy.

It only serves to deepen your confusion.

"...Did you mean that?" Eddie asks tentatively.

You don't answer right away, though not because you don't, only because the question is startling and you don't expressly know what to say.

The silence that hangs between you is charged and infinite, and suddenly you’ve left the question unanswered too long.

You watch as something akin to disappointment shadows his features. He sighs and pushes up from your hiding spot in the underbrush, and stalks away out toward the road.

It occurs to you much too late that a stunned silence was perhaps not the best way to answer that question, but it had been jarring at worst and deeply confusing at best.

Of course you love him. You feel it so fully with every particle of your being that at times you feel like it’s going to tear you apart, even now after all this time when things ought to have evened out between you.

You’ve certainly told him as much often enough that you’ve worried in the past that the words are losing meaning … how could he think that you don’t?

When was the last time you told him? Surely, out in the field? …No? Well, you definitely told him back in the clearing in the woods after he told you that stupid story and set your hand? Then again maybe not… Back at Rick’s place? No, that was him…

Your heart drops into your stomach as the truth dawns on you.

Oh shit... you haven’t told him.

How could you have not told him?

You scramble to your feet and nearly topple over in your mad attempt to get through the underbrush to follow him.

“Eddie, wait–” You start, taking clumsy steps toward him before he staves off your progress with a wave of his hand.

“Look, it’s fine, okay? I know you don’t feel the same way, but I don’t want you to say it if it’s not true.” He says, "I don't need you placating me just so I won't have hurt feelings or something—"

“Who says I don’t?” You demand.

It stops him in his tracks.

"What's that mean?" Eddie asks moodily.

"Who says I don't feel the same way?" You say a little slower, putting precise diction into each word, and spelling it out for him on the off chance that there has been a sudden and rapid decrease in IQs out here on the road.

The effect misses its mark. He just stares back at you, bewilderment etching a mask into his features so deep, you wonder idly if you’re ever going to see him make another expression again.

A sticky silence bleeds between you as you both wait for the other to speak.

Finally, you throw up your hands in frustration as you realize that between the two of you, you're the one who has suddenly become exceedingly goddamn stupid.

How could you have let Eddie go on thinking you didn't love him? What were you thinking? Nothing at all, apparently. You are a mean and foolish girl, and you cannot believe how incredibly careless you've been.

“I love you, Eddie," You start, "I’ve always loved you, from the moment I met you. That didn’t stop just because you got in your head and decided you weren’t good enough for me or whatever it was… I loved you even when I hated you … I mean — God — I always thought we were gonna get out of Hawkins and get a little place somewhere together... I thought we were gonna…" You roll your eyes and suppress the urge to hide your face then, gesturing vaguely to try and cover the color creeping up your neck, “...you know… get married and stuff…”

You try to imagine how your old friends would have reacted to hear you admit that. How stunned they would have been to find you when you still belonged to them, already daydreaming about wedding bells and little chapels, secretly scrawling your name sandwiched between Mrs. Munson all over your notebooks.

It’s embarrassing, but it doesn’t make it any less true.

It’s part of what had made the breakup so goddamn hard — you hadn’t seen it coming, you’d fully expected to spend the rest of your lives together.

Eddie makes a choked sound that is somewhere caught halfway between a scoff and something harsher. He blinks back the wetness suddenly brimming in his eyes as he reaches up to rub a calloused hand at the back of his neck.

“Guess I really went and fucked that up for you, huh?” He sniffs.

You shrug.

“Who says?” You ask, and when Eddie rolls his eyes, you double down, “Nothing’s changed, Eds—”

“Everything’s changed.” He stresses, stalking back across the clearing to close the gap between you, "How can you say that after all the shit I said ... everything I did? Everything is changed."

Suddenly you’re standing toe to toe, just like you had all those months back in front of the trailer, last summer.

Somehow the roles feel reversed now as you meet his watery gaze and feel the looming threat of the same choice hanging above your head like a guillotine.

He's right. Everything has changed, but who says you have to accept that? You know he would take it back if he could — the terrible choice he’d made — so who says you have to make the same mistake here and now?

You know better.

You shake your head and watch something akin to terror flash briefly across Eddie’s face at the prospective rejection.

How pleased you are to be able to prove him wrong.

“Not for me,” You say matter-of-factly, “I still love you.”

Like breaking the surface, he breathes out harshly through his nose and his shoulders sag under the effort of it.

“...You do?” Eddie asks, painfully hopeful, boyish even.

You can’t help the way your face begins to split into a slow, delighted grin. Finally, you get to mend something that is broken rather than being the one who broke it in the first place.

You nod.

“I do.”

“...Say it again.” He pleads, eyes flashing with strange and wild desperation, despite the way he’s begun to mirror your smile even before you say it.

You love him and he knows it, he has to know it.

“I love you,” You repeat, reaching up to curl your fingers around his biceps and giving him a gentle shake for good measure, “Even though you’re a big stupid jerk.”

He breathes out a wet, shaky laugh and suddenly he looks so fragile you can’t help but pull him a little closer.

Before you can admonish him for being so foolish as to think anything otherwise, his hands come up to frame your face, and he presses a searing kiss to your lips. It steals your breath and your eyes roll shut without your prompting.

You barely have time to process that you really ought not to be doing this so exposed, as chaste as the little kisses he’s begun peppering your face with are. He kisses you again and again, like he physically could not stop himself from kissing you if he tried.

You don’t think he’s trying very hard.

You’re in danger of being seen, standing so close to the road like this. Still, each gentle press of his lips is punctuated with a shaky utterance of his gratitude, blessing you for the reciprocation of the feeling, like he’s been holding his breath just waiting to hear you say it.

He pulls back a moment to stare reverently at you, searching your features like he's trying to commit them to memory.

You don't let him go very far, clinging to him like you're afraid you'll lose him if you let him go.

"You love me?" he says breathlessly, less a question than a statement of fact.

He nods slowly to prompt you to do the same, and you obey, but he hardly lets you.

Any need to hear you say it again is evidently superseded by the need to keep kissing you, this time it is a hard, wet thing pressed so forcefully to your lips you can hardly move against it.

A peal of joyful laughter bubbles up out of you and you love, love, love.

You feel the curl of his mouth as Eddie kisses you again, muffling the sound with his lips and pulling you that much tighter against him, tight enough that you finally feel him slip back into place to fill the hole he’d left in you last summer, and for the first time in almost a year, everything is right. It fills you with joy.

Blinding, unadulterated, stupefying joy.

It’s almost enough to make you forget the danger looming, and how once you turn around and head back to rejoin the others, you’ll very likely be going to your deaths…

#cruel summer fic #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things fic #eddie munson fanfic #joseph quinn eddie munson #joseph quinn fic

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lnsfawwi · 5 months

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Winterbaron Thunderbolts blurb

Zemo has spent a lot of time reflecting his feelings for Bucky. when he first learned about the Winter Soldier, Hydra's most formidable secret weapon, he was stuck between disgusted by what's been done to him and general apathy. brainwashed or not, Bucky used his superhuman skills to kill many many people. But after their little adventure, he realizes Bucky isn't that. he isn't one of THEM, Avengers or Nazis alike.

Zemo's grown not just sympathetic but also fond of Bucky as partners in crime. That makes him uncomfortable. He spent YEARS resenting superheroes, hunting them, killing them, killing that sense of superiority they so casually project. But here he is, working with Bucky again, and can't keep his eyes off him.

Bucky is a natural leader, he takes care of his team even tho his contempt for certain people (including himself) is palpable, a brilliant strategist and even a better fighter, he is competent and...attractive.

Zemo tries to play his little mind game but Bucky isn't at all receptive. but that's ok, hatred is a strong enough emotion that may very well carry over to his ultimate demise. bucky won't be able to forget him that easily. Zemo isnt trying to be a 'hero', sacrificing himself for this assorted bunch, he just isn't trying so hard to stay alive.

Bucky notices that, from experience perhaps. Bucky keeps an eye on him in battle. in the middle of a shootout, Bucky drags him to security and shouts at him, 'stop letting your death wish get in the way!' or something like that.

'I'm touched, James, caring the life of someone like me.'

'I don't care if you're dead.'Bucky says as he takes out a guy by calculating the ricochet trajectory on the fly. 'you are just in my way.'

that's probably true. Zemo shrugs, sitting on the ground, fully confident that Bucky can handle the situation for both of them. 'I've been thinking...'

'shoot first, think later, socrates.'

'I've been thinking.' Zemo shoots somewhere blindly and keeps talking, 'we'd make great pair.'

Bucky stares at him as if he's grown another head. or lost the only one he had.

'you see, James, no one knows you better than I do, I'm perhaps the only one who GETS why you are the way you are. And you know me, sort of. we've come to a truce, the past is in the past...'

'I don't share your kinship, Zemo. Now be useful!'

so he makes himself useful, tho he is still talking. talking, yeah, but without referring to the most painfully obvious and unsettling fact. 'what I'm suggesting is mutually beneficial. I have connections and information you need, and you have one less bad guy to worry about.'

'I don't have to worry about you if you're in prison.'

'but I'm not there, am I?'

as the mission progress, Zemo offers help, shuts John up when necessary (Bucky smirks when he does that), and stays close to Bucky. yelena isn't blind, but she thinks Zemo has external motive and gives him the shovel talk.

'that's lovely. now, do you think James would prefer a new modified gun or customed knife? I know he is partial to the SiG but I see room for improvement. you know what, I'll get both. thank you for indulging me, Yelena.'

yelena: ok gay🙄

more fighting ensued, Bucky eventually uses the knife Zemo got him. some part of Bucky just breaks, that line that's been constantly pushed by Zemo is broken at that moment in a sense that Bucky acknowledges Zemo being in his tiny circle of 'allies' is already a truth. Zemo has been his ally longer than he's willing to admit. Bucky wants to believe they are different that's why he pushes Zemo away, only then does he realize accepting Zemo doesn't mean they're the same, it's just that they are compatible in certain situations. and Zemo is not exactly unpleasant to be around, sometimes.

after the mission, yelena suggests they go for a drink, Zemo suggests they go to that fancy place none of them would otherwise be allowed in. It's classy and degenerate at the same time.

while others disappear into the dance floor, Zemo sits down next to Bucky and asks if he could buy him a drink.

'will you back off if I said no?'

'I'm hurt, James. after all this time, you should know I don't take pleasure in forcing people into things they don't want.'

Bucky kinda laughs and lets Zemo buy him a fancy whisky. 'what do you want, Zemo?'

'I already told you what I want. partnership.'

Bucky downs the alcohol in one go and glances at him. 'is that all?'

Zemo is frankly surprised by Bucky's response but who is he to pass the opportunity? 'I usually go on a date or two before moving on to other things, but I suppose I can make an exception.'

and things get a little heated from there.

#bucky barnes #baron zemo #helmut zemo #winterbaron #blurb #experimental writing #thunderbolts #bucky x zemo

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wistfulweaverwoman · 10 months

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There’s been a few “Gale isn’t that bad posts lately. Yeah, he wasn’t evil, but he wasn’t good either. And that’s on purpose.

On a meta level THG trilogy is a retelling of Dante’s Comedies. Gale is Virgil, Katniss is Dante, and Peeta is Beatrice.

Virgil (and therefore Gale) represents human reason, while Beatrice (Peeta) represents divine love. Katniss is Dante, moving from Virgil to Beatrice, who then transcends to Paradise (or a world where Peeta's children can play in the meadow).

Here’s the gist:

In the opening scene of The Inferno, the first book of The Divine Comedy, Dante (the author, the main character, and the first-person narrator) awakens in a dark wood midway through his life’s journey, having strayed from the True Way. A shade (i.e., a spirit or ghost) of the Roman poet Virgil appears to Dante, having been sent by Beatrice to lead Dante on a journey through Hell, Purgatory, and eventually Paradise (Heaven). Virgil leads Dante through the various circles of Hell and partway up the ascent of Purgatory before Beatrice takes over as Dante’s guide the remainder of the way through Purgatory and on to Paradise.

So why must Beatrice take over for Virgil as Dante’s guide? Virgil symbolizes human reason in The Divine Comedy, the power and achievements of the human intellect left to its own devices without God, without the redemption offered by Jesus Christ, and without the influence of the Holy Spirit. Human reason is symbolized elsewhere in The Divine Comedy by the faint illumination coming from a citadel, what translator John Ciardi calls the “Citadel of Human Reason” in Limbo, the first circle of Hell (see The Divine Comedy, Canto IV), where the virtuous pagans and unbaptized souls, those who were otherwise virtuous but who lived prior to the incarnation of Jesus, and those who were unbaptized and thus unable to be redeemed and allowed to enter Paradise, reside eternally. Virgil explains to Dante that Limbo is where he resides as well, having both lived and died before the time of Christ. Limbo is a place of no punishment but still one of eternal separation from God’s love, and hence a place of no further hope. At the Citadel of Human Reason in Limbo, Dante finds the great humanistic philosophers in the history of philosophy: Socrates, Plato, Democritus, Diogenes, Thales, Anaxagoras, Zeno, Heraclitus, Empedocles, Cicero, and Seneca—even Euclid, Ptolemy, Hippocrates, and other figures symbolizing the great achievements of pure human reason. Because Virgil symbolizes human reason, and because of the general Medieval mindset that human reason alone cannot lead to salvation, Virgil, by definition, cannot lead Dante into Paradise.

For Dante’s journey into Paradise he must have another guide: Beatrice, Dante’s symbol of divine love. Beatrice, of course, was Dante’s principle love interest, as described in Dante’s La Vita Nuova, a collection of Dante’s poems with his own explanation of their meaning and symbolism. In La Vita Nuova, Dante recounts three key events in his interaction with Beatrice: when he first becomes enamored with her as an adolescent, when she rejects him nine years later, and Beatrice’s death at age 25. The fact that the first two events occurred at nine-year intervals, the number nine (the square of three, the number of the Holy Trinity) traditionally representing perfection, undoubtedly influenced not only Dante’s view of Beatrice as symbolic of divine love both within The Divine Comedy and in the structure of The Divine Comedy itself: nine circles of Hell, three books of 33 cantos each for a total of 99 cantos, etc.

Side note, a huge clue the the trilogy is a retelling is the format that the author used: 3 books, each has 3 parts, each part has 9 chapters…

Anyways, Gale symbolically represents man and man’s base desires. This is shown through his *slight* inability to control his sexual desire for Katniss

Then suddenly, as I was suggesting I take over the daily snare run, he took my face in his hands and kissed me. I was completely unprepared. You would think that after all the hours I’d spent with Gale — watching him talk and laugh and frown — that I would know all there was to know about his lips. But I hadn’t imagined how warm they would feel pressed against my own. Or how those hands, which could set the most intricate of snares, could as easily entrap me. I think I made some sort of noise in the back of my throat, and I vaguely remember my fingers, curled tightly closed, resting on his chest. Then he let go and said, “I had to do that. At least once.” And he was gone.

and through his understanding but lack of compassion for the “other” both at home

Gale knows his anger at Madge is misdirected. On other days, deep in the woods, I’ve listened to him rant about how the tesserae are just another tool to cause misery in our district. A way to plant hatred between the starving workers of the Seam and those who can generally count on supper and thereby ensure we will never trust one another. “It’s to the Capitol’s advantage to have us divided among ourselves,” he might say if there were no ears to hear but mine. If it wasn’t reaping day. If a girl with a gold pin and no tesserae had not made what I’m sure she thought was a harmless comment. As we walk, I glance over at Gale’s face, still smoldering underneath his stony expression.

and during wartime

At some point, Gale and Beetee left the wilderness behind and focused on more human impulses. Like compassion. A bomb explodes. Time is allowed for people to rush to the aid of the wounded. Then a second, more powerful bomb kills them as well. “That seems to be crossing some kind of line,” I say. “So anything goes?” They both stare at me — Beetee with doubt, Gale with hostility.

“They could still escape through the train tunnel to the square,” says Beetee. “Not if we blow it up,” says Gale brusquely. His intent, his full intent, becomes clear. Gale has no interest in preserving the lives of those in the Nut. No interest in caging the prey for later use.

His character is not meant to be evil or good, but morally questionable.

Katniss started in a low place and transcended to a higher level of being, from survival to living with purpose. Peeta started high with a strong sense of self and a higher level of goodness, descends with the torture and highjacking, and then ascends again after a lot of struggle. Gale's arc is static. He is basically the same from the beginning of the book to the end, and while we can imagine that everything he's gone through must have changed him in some way there's no textual evidence to support such claims.

At the beginning of THG Katniss calls him the person that knows her best. Perhaps he was, for a while, but as she goes through her arc there is a wider and wider divide between the person she started as and the person she becomes, and I'm not entirely convinced that he ever truly understood her, just as she didn't totally know herself.

When they first meet Gale basically accuses her of stealing, it takes them forever to actually trust each other enough to become friends. Their relationship starts contractually, a give and take, and the spirit of that never really changes.

He shows a lack of respect of her opinions if they don't align with his own. He tries to bring up the idea of having a family one day, and she immediately shuts him down telling him she doesn't want that. She wonders why he's bringing it up because there's never been anything romantic between them. Then later, in the arena, she admits that things have been different between them for the past six months or so, implying that he's been different. We later learn that he realized he felt jealous when other men paid attention to her.

He never tells her how he feels, but instead kisses her weeks after she returned home from a super traumatic experience telling her he HAD to do that. That kiss really bothers me, because he didn't ask first, so it feels a bit like a violation of her trust. Their kiss in District Two also really bothers me. She has not been in a good headspace and making out with a grieving depressed suicidal girl is just taking advantage, even if he does stop once he realizes she's out if it.

She tries to warn him about Snow when she returns from the Victory Tour, and later tries to warn him about the weapons and the Nut, and he refuses to take her seriously, with terrible consequences.

It feels a bit like he's holding Katniss emotionally hostage, if she refuses him he will end their friendship (or that seems to be Katniss's fear, that she'll lose him). Halfway through CF and at the end of MJ she expresses relief that he’s not there, first because he will think anything she does with Peeta will be seen as an act and therefore won't hurt him (which makes her feel guilty, because really she doesn't have romantic feelings for him) and later because of his actions in the war.

He isn’t evil, he's an asshole. By design.

#wistfulweaverwoman #gale hawthorne #divine comedies #dante #thg #meta

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gemsofgreece · 2 months

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Because unfortunately the internet doesn't have any lists of famous couples in Greek history aside of course... Greek mythology.. i know of Pericles- Aspasia/ Theodora- Justinian but i am very sure there are many more.

Can you make a list of famous couples in Greek history starting from ancient times until 20th century?

I am not perfectly sure how to approach this though. Are we talking about couples both members of which contributed to history? Or just a famous couple we know existed? Also, is this only about history or does it include famous couples culture-wise? Do they both have to necessarily be Greeks by descent? There are many questions I have but I will give it a try.

Periclés & Aspasia (5th century BC)

Aspasia was the sister-in-law of Alcibiades who brought her too with him in Athens from her hometown Miletus in Asia Minor. Aspasia worked as a high-class courtesan, a hetaera. She is perceived in two different ways by Ancient Greeks: either as a vulgar promiscuous woman or as a philosopher and an intellectual. Maybe the truth was somewhere in between. She had a son with Pericles, the most prominent politician of Classical Athens. It is suggested that Perciles heard her council and took her opinions regarding politics into account.

Socrátes & Xanthippe (5th-4th century BC)

Not exactly a role model of a pairing but a famous one nonetheless. For one, the most famous Greek philosopher, Socrates, must have been a LOT older and his marriage to Xanthippe might have not even be his only one. On the other hand, many sources seem to agree that Xanthippe was a notoriously temperamental person and she would mistreat Socrates, who viewed this as an opportunity to practice the values of patience and forbearance.

Crates & Hipparcheía (4th century BC)

Crates of Thebes was a cynical philosopher, whom Hipparcheia of Maroneia met and fell madly in love with. She insisted that (the unattractive) Crates would be the only one she would be having, leading her wealthy parents to despair. The parents asked Crates to talk her out of it himself and Crates complied! He removed his clothes and showed himself to Hipparcheia, telling her: "That's all you'll be getting in a life with me". He did not phase Hipparcheia one bit and eventually the parents ceded and allowed Crates to marry her. They are notorious for a little too much PDA (they were having sex publicly) which scandalised Ancient Greeks a great deal. Their relationship was one of mutual love and respect and living on equal terms together. Hipparcheia not only embraced but started practicing philosophy and totally immersed herself in the respective lifestyle of cynicism as well.

[???] Cleopatra & Antonius (1st century BC)

I don't know if they count since Antonius AKA Mark Antony was not Greek, however Cleopatra was a member of the Macedonian Ptolemaic dynasty of Egypt and their story essentially sealed the Greek future. Mark Antony was a Roman general who opposed to Julius Caesar´s assassins and allied with the latter´s relative Octavian. Later, however, their relationship was strained leading to a form of civil war in the Roman Empire. The reason was that Mark Antony had a long affair with the Queen of Egypt Cleopatra, even had three kids with her, and now favoured promoting Caesarion (Cleopatra´s son from her past affair with Caesar) to the Roman throne instead of Octavian. Mark Antony was defeated by Octavian in the Battle of Actium in Greek territory and then again in the Battle of Alexandria. Knowing there was no hope for them at this point, Cleopatra and Antonius committed suicide together and this generally is viewed as the "official" end of any form of Hellenistic hegemony in the now completely Roman empire.

[???] Justinian & Theodora (5th - 6th century AD)

The question marks are because Theodora was of Greek descent but Justinian was not. Justinian was one of the most successful emperors of the East Roman / Byzantine Empire, making it reach its widest borders, including "reconquests" of the fast dissolving Western Roman Empire. He also achieved or rather imposed the peace in the internal affairs of the empire, sometimes with the use of a lot of violence. It is believed that he was very influenced by his wife Empress Theodora, who was hardened by her very humble origins (she was likely a prostitute). Theodora was extremely strong-minded and contributed a lot to the strong image built around her husband. Furthermore, she contributed to the making of laws for the improvement of the position of women in the society. Most sources agree Justinian was crazy for her, while it is uncertain whether Theodora was loyal to him.

Surviving mosaics of Justinian and Theodora in a Byzantine Church in Italy.

Kassianí and Theóphilos (9th century AD)

These two have become a romance in legends more than they might have actually been in their real life. Still, their affair or lack thereof, technically, has a significant enough impact on Greek and Greek Orthodox culture so they should be mentioned. The Byzantine Emperor Theophilos invited all the prettiest maidens of the empire to his court in order to pick a wife. Amongst them, Kassiani was the one who stood out both in looks and intellect. The emperor stood before her and offered her a golden apple, token of his affection and proposal. It is totally unclear what was happening in Theophilos' brain at the moment but of all things he could say to impress her, he chose to tell her something very sexist. Kassiani ended him on the spot with her response and did not take the apple. The emperor, humiliated in front of all his court, gave the apple to Theodora (another one!), another fine lady standing next to Kassiani. For all we know, this could be the end of it. But Kassiani's choice to never marry and isolate herself in a monastery instead has created legends and speculations that it was due to her heartbreak. In any case, Kassiani proceeded to become the most (or only) significant female psalm composer and poetess in the history of the empire and her psalms and hymns are used in the Service of the Orthodox Church during the Holy Week of Easter. Meanwhile, Theophilos fell ill early in his life and died young. It is said / speculated that when he felt death was near, Theophilos visited Kassiani in her monastery to see her one last time. Kassiani saw his carriage approach and hid herself in a closet to avoid the temptation. Theophilos entered her cell and saw nothing but the psalm she was composing at the time on a table. He read it and added the last line himself. He understood she was hiding from him, respected this and left. Kassiani got out, read the hymn and kept Theophilos' addition. Since then, the last verse of this hymn is attributed to Theophilos. For more about Kassiani and what exactly were the notorious exchanges they had that separated them as well as how the content of this hymn is essentially what led to these speculations, read this older post I had made.

Mantó Mavroyénus & Demétrios Ypsilantis (19th century)

A romance that flourished amidst the years of the Greek Independence War. Demetrios led many of the battles against the Ottoman army, however he is a little overshadowed by the more tragic story of his brother, Alexander Ypsilantis, who was the overall leader of the Friendly Society (the secret organisation which plotted and spread the fervor for the Greek Revolution). Meanwhile, Manto was the daughter of a wealthy aristocratic Greek expat in Italy, who was also a member of the Friendly Society. When the war broke out, Manto first tried to raise awareness about the Greek cause in France. Soon, she departed for Mykonos island, the place of her descent, with a large part of her fortune. She bought ships and created her own fleet, sending them and her men to many battles in the islands. She later participated in several battles in mainland Greece as well. There she met Demetrios and they got engaged. She became renowned in all of Europe at the time for her beauty and activity. The couple was in love and they were adored by the Greeks, who really liked that union of brave noble Greek role models. A prominent and very corrupted politician, Ioannis Koletis, did not share the sentiment. Fearing that the couple was gaining too much power and influence over the public, that could eventually turn political, he started a relentless defamation of Manto to her fiancé. He spread his lies so that Manto's reputation was ruined. Ashamed, Demetrios broke up with her. Manto returned to her home island heartbroken and penniless as she had given all her fortune for causes of the war. After the official indepedence of the Greek state, the enlightened governor Ioannis Kapodistrias restored her reputation and gave her the honorary title of Lieutenant general. Around the same time, Demetrios passed away young as he had always frail health.

Penelópe Delta & Ion Dragumis (19th - 20th century)

A famous love story rather than a couple. Ion Dragumis was a prominent young politician and the biggest adversary of the famous Greek politician Eleftherios Venizelos. He was very sophisticated, seductive and a smooth womanizer. He drew the attention of the slightly older author Penelope Delta, who at the time was already a mother of three. Delta fell so madly in love that she had the guts to reveal the truth to her husband and ask for a divorce. Her husband refused, trying to protect both his and her reputation. However, Delta's passion for Dragumis was so fierce that neither the husband nor her father could fight it. They eventually gave her an ultimatum that she had to choose either her children or leave the children to the father and go away with Dragumis. Delta chose to stay with her children but her desire was such that she attempted suicide multiple times. Meanwhile, Dragumis went on with his life and started an open affair with the famous actress Marika Kotopuli, without any intent to marry, which was very scandalous for the time. When Delta heard of this affair she started dressing in black, as if in grief, and kept doing it until the end of her days. At some point, there was an attempt at an assasination of Venizelos in Paris. Fanatic supporters of his in Athens, believing mistakenly that his big adversary Dragumis was behind it, trapped him and shot him in the middle of a street. Delta dedicated some of her later activity to sort out and copy a lot of Dragumis' drafts full of thoughts and ideas, that his brother had entrusted with her. Apart from this, Delta kept writing novels that made her the most prominent female writer of her time in Greece. She had reached her sixties when, in 1941, the Nazi Germans invaded Athens. On that day, she finally committed suicide by drinking poison. For more details, read this older post about Ion Dragumis' love life.

Kostas Karyotakis & Maria Polyduri (20th century)

Two young people, brought apart by their very different personalities and brought together by the fact that they both happened to be poets. The young couple fell madly in love. Karyotakis was a very timid and bashful man, full of insecurities and suicidal thoughts. On the other hand, Polyduri was a raging emancipated extrovert, which caused judgement at the time. Although they were very much in love and dreamed to elope together, Karyotakis was afraid of the bold lifestyle of Polyduri and the judgement it caused. When the girl even took the initiative to propose to him, the young man was so taken aback and panicked that he lied to her that it was no use, because he suffered from syphilis and therefore they should not consumate the marriage. Polyduri did not believe him but she was very heartbroken by his rejection. She departed for Paris where she continued her bohemian lifestyle, maybe taking it too far, until they found her unconscious in a narrow alley. She was diagnosed with tuberculosis and was taken to the sanatorium in Athens. As she was fighting for her life, she learnt that in her absence her past lover had finally committed suicide. His suicide note is very famous, as he describes how he initially tried to kill himself by drowning in the sea but failed because he was a skilled swimmer. He resorted to a pistol. The tragic news had very adverse effects on Polyduri's fragile health. A friend of hers, maybe taking pity on her, handed her injections of morphine, with which she ended her life as well. She has left a suicidal poem, which confirms that grief was the reason she took her life.

Maria Callas & Aristotle Onassis (20th century)

A very dark couple but the lovers were two of the most internationally well known Greeks of the century. Maria Callas was a Greek American who distinguished herself for being the most famous soprano in the history of Opera. She was born in the USA to Greek parents but soon they were divorced and little Maria followed her mother and sister in Greece where she received her operatic training. Later, she spent most of her time in Italy and France for her career where she enjoyed huge success and glory. She became a symbol of music and finesse. Despite all this, Callas was a tortured soul because she constantly felt unloved and exploited, both by her family and her Italian husband at the time. She suffered from great insecurities and was often deeply melancholic. Meanwhile, Aristotle Onassis was a Greek from Smyrna (now Izmir, Turkey) whose family experienced the atrocities of the Great Fire of Smyrna (in Greek known as Asia Minor Catastrophe). He emigrated to the Americas and started building a colossal business and fortune. He became one of the globally most well known tycoons by accumulating the largest privately owned shipping fleet. His power was immense. He was insanely ambitious and wanted to taste and own all the finest things in the world. He was impressed by Callas and courted her, although he was still married to his first wife. Callas succumbed and broke up with her husband. It was certainly a status affair, however Callas saw something in him, maybe his intelligence, his ambition, that made her fall in love with him deeply. She was pushing for marriage, as she ultimately dreamt to have kids and a conventional love life but Onassis was giving her the hot and cold treatment. One day, Maria Callas famously turned on the TV in her apartment, only to see in the news that Onassis had married the widow of American president John Kennedy. I can only imagine the impact learning such a thing from the news had for the sensitive psyche of Callas. Onassis went mad with the sense of status it gave him to marry the wife of the American president. However, he never loved Jackie and they barely even interacted in their marriage. Onassis would often pay visits to Callas which did no good to her but she found it very hard to resist him even though he made her sadder and sadder still. Despite all his cleverness and strategies, Onassis became miserable with tragedies that struck his family, so much that there is a talk of the "Onassis curse", generally insinuating that he was paying for his wrongdoings. Onassis could not suffer the untimely death of his son and his health deteriorated fast. Callas visited him in his deathbed and there were sources claiming he expressed his regret to her. Callas too had a very fragile health for many years. His death is believed to have contributed to her own premature death from a heart attack two years later.

King Constantine II of Greece & Queen Anne-Marie of Greece (20th - 21st century)

Because the majority of Greeks have no positive views about the constitutional monarchy, this may seem like an odd choice, however the truth is that before the graceless fall and exile of the king, the young royal couple was adored by the Greek public because it was viewed as the quintessential romantic image of a royal fairytale. He was young and super handsome, she was super beautiful and graceful, he was the Greek king, she was the Danish princess. Their marriage may have been one of the most grande events that took place in Athens in the 20th century. The media were delirious, one magazine declaring how "we" had the most beautiful royal couple in the world and, you know, as bold a statement as it may seem, it was perhaps not far from the truth. The image of the king was forever ruined after his catastrophic choices to tolerate the Greek dictatorship and then organize a childish coup against it. The fallen royal family lived in exile for the following decades - and we can accept that they sincerely resented this - until the ex-king was allowed back in Greece in the 00s. Regardless of anything else, the two of them were a rare example of marital success and mutual devotion in the royal circles. Despite all the drama and resentment against Constantine and the institution of monarchy, the Greeks retain respect for former Queen Anne Marie, who remained graceful all this time, viewed as a perfect role model of a wife and respectable royal. Constantine passed away a year ago.

They were literally Disney.

Aliki Vouyouklaki & Dimitris Papamichaél (20th century)

I thought of ending this with a celebrity couple, certainly the most famous Greek celebrity couple. Much like it happens in such cases, the image was so very bright but the truth was darker. Despite all the toxicity, it is generally believed Vouyouklaki and Papamichael were each other's love of their life. Vouyouklaki and Papamichael were the most promising and charismatic actors of their generation. They were in the same theatrical school and developed a love-hate relationship with constant bickering. When they rose to stardom, they simply tranferred this energy to the movies they starred in together, which led to great success and immense adoration from the Greek public. Aliki Vouyouklaki retains the title of the "national star". When the two got married, their fans were losing their minds. The marital life was not peaceful as their youthful bickering had now transformed into the much darker career competition. Papamichael was a very conservative man and he was poisoned of feelings of injustice and envy when Vouyouklaki attracted more attention and acknowledgement than he did, because he thought of himself a better actor than she was. Now, that was generally true, Papamichael was a great actor with a big range for comedy and drama. Vouyouklaki has posthumously been accused of bad acting, however this is not entirely fair. She was indeed bad in drama but she was exceptional in comedy. A problem that could negatively affect her performances was that she refused to spoil her looks for a role, no matter how essential it was for the plot. Anyway, the marriage was often violent and neither of the two ceded to the other, as Vouyouklaki was extremely sharp and refused to sacrifice anything from her image, her career and her decency. Eventually, they broke up in a bad way as well. Both went on with their lives but Papamichael found it harder to cope without her. In later years, they reached a sort of mutual understanding and formed a platonic friendship of sorts. Aliki Vouyouklaki was prematurely diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. In her deathbed, Papamichael would visit her and lament, and implore her to rise and go away together. After her death, which shocked and deeply grievened all of Greece, Papamichael would regularly visit her grave for the rest of his life.

And one from when they were far less glamourous but finally healthily loving / respectful to each other, with their son, because I want to end this on a good note.

Is this an early Valentine post? lol idk it takes some serious left turns

#greece #europe #history #greek history #ancient greek history #byzantine greek history #modern greek history #culture #famous people #greeks #greek people #greek culture #anon #ask #long post #long text #tw long #cw violence #cw abuse

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