#thanks for the ask kiki :D

[kikithefox231]

✨️✨️🪄✨️✨️ WHOOSH

Gives ye a sweet of yer choice hehe 💙💙💙💖

Omg!!! A Creme Brûlée!!! :’D my favorite!!!

#fav #this is so sweet :’O /gen /pos #uno reverse card btw :D /gen /pos #kiki answers #thanks for asking!

[tacitusauxilium]

#ooc #kiki speaks #(uhhhh i just got so overwhelmed there omg #and that just exhausted the living heck outta me! #so i am going to head to bed and get on tomorrow to get replies and such #hoping to go to the zoo tomorrow IF IT WILL NOT RAIN FOR FUCKS SAKE #so here's hoping i can get out to do stuff. #night guys and thanks for sending asks! :D)

[microwave-core]

Carmine Fluff Alphabet Thing

For all intents and purposes, this is pre-Kieran Joker Arc.

Activities- What does she like to do? How does she spend her free time?

Carmine’s favorite thing to do with you is just laze around. She likes to splay out on the couch, tangling her limbs in yours, as you chat mindlessly. Makes Kieran bring in food and drinks from the kitchen or the drug store down the road. He grumbles about it, but he gets to hang out with you for a bit after doing so (he looks up to you a lot). Other than that, she likes showing you the many sights and scenes of Kitakami, especially the Festival of Masks. She’s very proud of her home (except for the whole casting out Ogrepon when she did nothing wrong thing, but I digress).

Beauty- What does she admire physically and mentally?

Physically, she likes your eyes. It’s not in a “eyes are the window to the soul” poetic type of way, though. She just appreciates their color and shape. Also really likes thighs. In terms of personality, Carmine really values courage. Even if you’re on the shy side, you’ve got at least some in you to stand toe to toe with her. She also really admires the ability to admit when you’re wrong, as it’s something she struggles with herself.

Comfort- How would she help when you’re feeling down, having a panic attack, etc.?

To be honest, Carmine’s style of comfort is a bit unconventional. She helps you settle down normally enough-instructing you to take deep breaths, to talk things out, and to let her hold you closely-but then she starts threatening whoever did this to you. She will make sure these bastards never see the light of day for hurting you, regardless if they hurt you on purpose or not. It’s up to you to reel her in if you think she’s going too far, because her threats are far from empty.

Dreams- How does she picture her future?

Hmm… Honestly, I don’t know. I could see her wanting to stay in Kitakami, continuing to live in her hometown out of habit, but I could also see her branching out and going on a journey to bigger regions and cities. She’s very prideful, though. She won’t easily admit that she likes a certain town or city or region, instead playing up how things are back at home. She wants you to come with her, obviously. What’s the point of going on a journey alone when she has you to do things for her to rely on?

Equal- Is she more dominant or passive in the relationship?

Definitely on the dominant side. She’s used to dealing with Kieran, who’s too shy to stand up for himself. Taking the reins comes naturally to her. She wouldn’t try to order you around all the time or speak on your behalf, but it’s obvious that she seems in control. She’s very vocal about what she does and does not like, and has a hard time dealing with push back. That being said, she does try to think about your needs and wants and changes to accommodate them, but that does not come easily to her.

Fight- What’s it like to fight her? How easily does she forgive? 

Carmine is easily agitated, but she tries to keep her temper under wraps for your sake. She tends to get snippy with other people over small things, but she doesn’t want to be mad at her lovely girlfriend for something petty. That being said, when it’s a big fight, she’s a nightmare to deal with. She needs at least a week of space before she’s even willing to be on speaking terms again, and she complains about what happened during most of that time. Also has a hard time admitting her faults, which doesn’t make things any easier. She’ll come around eventually. 

Gratitude- How grateful is she in general? Is she aware of what you do for her?

She’s very grateful for all you do, but doesn’t always vocalize that fact. Carmine doesn’t outright order you around, but she does ask you to do things sometimes. Can you bring me this, could you run to the store and grab that, would you be able to fetch Kiki for me, stuff like that. She’ll thank you after the fact, but it doesn’t show the depths of her gratitude. 

Honesty- Does she keep secrets or hide things, or does she share everything?

Doesn’t usually hide things. You’re her closest confidant, so she has to reason to lie… Okay, there are certain things she doesn’t vocalize, like just how grateful she is for all you do, but she’s not normally going to lie. Unless she thought hiding something for the moment would be the best for you (just like how she hides meeting Ogrepon from Kieran), she’s going to be pretty honest.

Inspiration- Did you inspire her to change in some way?

You make Carmine want to be a nicer person, in a sense. She’s a bit prickly and snippy with people she doesn’t know or doesn’t like, but she doesn’t want to be like that with you. She really cares about you, and really wants to keep you around, so she tries her best to be kinder and softer with you, but not with anyone else… except maybe with Kieran. She also tries to boss him around less.

Jealousy- Does she get jealous easily? How does she deal with it?

Yes. Absolutely yes. She doesn’t like most other people, so she obviously doesn’t like when they’re around you. How dare they have the audacity to think they know you better then she does? Carmine knows you better than anyone, no questions asked! She also doesn’t really deal with it, she just holds you close and glares at her opposition. Doesn’t really acknowledge her jealous streak, but she doesn’t try to deny it, either.

Kiss- What’s she like as a kisser?

She’s above average, I guess. A bit rough with them, but puts just enough passion in to leave you wanting more. She tends to soften up a bit when you kiss her, pouting until you give her another, then another, the another, so on and so forth. She’s a bit greedy with your affection, honestly. She wants to be showered in your love.

Love Confession- How does she confess?

Carmine doesn’t confess. Or rather, she doesn’t want to. She’d much rather be confessed to. She’ll drop hints constantly, hoping that you’ll pick up on her feelings and just spill yours already. The more hints she drops, the more obvious they get. Should you take too long, she’ll confess in a rather aggressive manner, basically just telling you to kiss her already.

Marriage- Does she want to get married? Does she want kids?

I think Carmine wants to be married, but I don’t see her as a person who’d want kids. She’s more of an aunt figure in my mind, in a “when your double-income, no-kids, lesbian aunts show up to unleash the gift reckoning on christmas” way. Of course, she waits for you to propose, but will begrudgingly take up that mantle if you take too long. Her ideal wedding is a small one, just being surrounded by family. Listen, she’s a sap but she doesn’t want anyone to know.

Nicknames- What kinds of pet names does she use?

Typically just sticks with babe or baby. If she’s in a teasing mood, she’ll use an overly sweet nickname that makes other people cringe. Could also use a short form of your name if that’s applicable.

On Cloud Nine- What’s she like when in love? Is it obvious to others? How does she express her love?

She’s noticeably happier and softer when she sees, or even just thinks, about you, but she only smiles smugly when asked why she’s in such high spirits. Her main love language is acts of service. She usually just orders people around to do her bidding, so going out of her way to do things on your behalf means a lot coming from her.

PDA- Is she upfront about your relationship and affection? 

Very upfront. Carmine wants everyone around to know that you’re her girl, just so they know not to mess with you unless they want to deal with her wrath. Has no issue with being affectionate with other people around, but tries to hold back with Kieran. She’ll tease him if he thinks her affection towards you is embarrassing, telling him off for still believing in cooties, but she does tone things down. She cares about him, really, she’s just an older sister. It’s how it be.

Quirk- What’s an ability she has that’s beneficial in a relationship?

She won’t hesitate to fuck someone up. Now, I’m not saying you should indulge in her violent tendencies and sick her on those you don’t like as if she’s a vapid dog, but you could if you really wanted to. Just know that you’ll likely have to take some of the responsibility if she clocks someone unprovoked.

Romance- How romantic is she? What does she do to make you happy?

As previously stated, she tries to do things for you. Again, it’s not much, but it means a lot coming from her. She’s not super romantic, but she is pretty passionate. As much as she likes sitting back and basking in your love, she will at times turn the tables and instead shower you in affection, peppering you with light pecks, telling you how much she loves you after each and every one.

Support- How does she help you achieve your goals?

Carmine can, and will, weed out anyone standing in your way. Is someone harassing you, or scaring you off, or in general just bringing your spirit down and making your job harder? Sit down babe, Carmine’s just gonna have a little chat with them real quick. She doesn’t always resort to violence, sometimes threats are enough to scare them off, but she will use force if she has to. Again, you might need to step in before she takes things too far.

Thrill- Does she feel the need to try new things out to spice up your relationship, or does she prefer stability?

Honestly, I’m a bit conflicted here. I think she does spice things up in, um, plenty of ways if you catch my drift, but she doesn’t do anything too extreme to your relationship as a whole.

Understanding- How well does she know you?

Carmine knows a lot about you. It’s like she’s got a little memory bank in her brain just for you. She’s pretty perspective, too, and tries to keep them in mind. She’ll do normal things like pick up your favorite snacks and plan dates at your favorite locals, but then she’ll do things like claim no one can sit in a specific spot because that’s your favorite seat and you deserve to have it. 

Value- How important is your relationship to her?

Incredibly important. Honestly, Carmine doesn’t have too many close relationships outside of her family, so you mean so much to her. When she knows that things between you are getting serious, she genuinely sees you as a part of her family, and they think the same. Her grandparents love you and think you’re a great influence, and Kieran thinks you’re ridiculously cool. So don’t break her heart.

Wild Card- A random headcanon.

She absentmindedly plays with your hair when she’s not doing anything else. She’ll twirl it and untangle it and wrap it around her fingers. If it’s too short to play with, or if you’ve styled it in a way where she can’t, or shouldn’t, mess with it easily, she’ll settle for scratching gently at your scalp.

XOXO- Is she affectionate? 

Pretty affectionate. She likes to hold you closer, or lay her legs across your lap, or vice versa, or… or anything, really. Carmine just likes to be close, both in public and behind closed doors.

Yearning- How does she cope when missing you?

Perfectly fine, then not at all. If you’re gone for a while, she can deal with it. You can’t be around all the time, she gets that. She still has Kieran to hang around with, so she’s not lonely or anything. But when days turn to weeks, she suddenly breaks. She becomes incredibly dramatic, lamenting about how much she misses you, about how you’ve been gone for so long. Practically jumps you the next time you meet.

Zeal- Is she willing to go to great lengths for your relationship? If so, in what ways?

I already stated that she would deck a man for you in a heartbeat so I’d say she’s willing to do a lot. If someone is clearly bothering you, she won’t ask any questions, nor will she hesitate. If you're not uncomfortable or in distress when asking her to do something, though, she might complain about it. She’ll still do it, even if she doesn’t really want to, but she does ask to be compensated in affection.

#pokemon x reader #carmine x reader #fem reader #the gif looks scrunged because i had to scrunch it #twas too big :*< #i have no idea why im on a writing kick but i am i guess #anyways carmine and klara are very similar me thinks #the difference is that carmine would murder you whereas klara would frame you for murder #differences people differences #also tweaked the prompts a bit bc formatting purposes

[peachiseas]

okay i am very new here, so i need a through introduction to your mcs! like eve for example, pls post his whole biography o(╥﹏╥)o

fr tho, tell me anything and everything :D

TOOK SO DAMN LONG SINCE I WANTED TO DRAW A STEP ONE REF OF EVE BUT ITS GONNA TAKE A MINUTE so here are the sketches,,, Anyways- gonna introduce the main two mcs/ocs you'll see here: Eve Cortez Williams and Aaliyah Dubious

(dont mind my ipad scribbles on the screenshot iofqiowogi) Lemme put this under a readmore actually so yall dont get slammed with a long ass post:

Starting with Eve:

He's my Tamarack MC, but I figured since uh. all my art that was a given

He has a strained relationship with Qiu in step 1 but they become besties by step 2 and by step 3, they are like family to each other. If no one got Eve, Eve knows Qiu got them, amen 🙏

He comes out as transmasc by step 2, and by step 3 he gets top surgery and starts taking testosterone and firmly identifies as a butch lesbian

He's from the southern part of Miami, Florida. He's Golden Grove's residential florida man

He practices martial arts religiously, he's a big fan of Goku and Dragonball in general so he wants to be like his idol

His story deviates a bit from the OL2 generic mc story, he did have a dad! Opal and his dad wanted a kid but they both didn't want to get married and since the two of them were best friends, they decided to have a kid together (or well two but we'll talk about that later)

What's important to note from above is that his dad isn't around anymore because his father passed away a few months ago due to a car accident and Eve was hospitalized as a result

So by the time he's at Golden Grove, he's in anger stages of his grief and he doesn't want to be bothered. Which sucks cause hes neighbors with the two loudest kids on the block

Doesn't help he's a ESL speaker (English as a Second Language) and Golden Grove's population is majorly white so he has even harder of a time adjusting to it

He gets into fights in step 1... a Lot. Someone will look at him funny and they'll get punched in the face

He does adjust but he still doesn't like Golden Grove by step 3 but funnily enough, he moves away at the end of step 3 for treatment but moves back in step 4, crazy how that shit works huh

He has two emotional support bunnies; Bulma and Chi-Chi! He gets them in step 2, Qiu and Eve bond over them LMFAO

As for Aaliyah:

She's my Qiu MC, to the shocker of no one. Tamarack is also her best friend <3

Aaliyah is from New Orleans, Louisiana! She's full blooded Haitian and she has family in Haiti

She's also transfem! She passes for cis in step 1 thanks to hormone blockers and some makeup and then starts taking estrogen in step 2 and onwards

Her being black and transfemme is integral to her character and how she navigates around Golden Grove, she doesn't tell anyone she's trans until near the end of step 1. By step 3, the girl gang and Qiu knows shes trans

^^ That's because she had a very negative experience coming out to her community who previously loved her but flipped on her just as fast

So moving to Golden Grove was supposed to be a fresh start for her as herself but by that point she feels like she has to keep up her "cis-sona" lest she gets bullied again

She still gets bullied for other reasons in step 2 though (being a pretty black girl and the one person who has a crush on her is the most popular kid in school... its rough! 😭)

By step 4 though she is proud to call herself trans and will let people know!

She lovessss animals! And the animals love her back! She feeds them all the time and keeps animal food on her for that purpose when she goes to the park to read by herself, she got a flock of crows and stray cats that like to follow her

She has a cat named Kiki!!! Kiki loves everyone except Qiu though, Aaliyah doesnt know that though-

I hope that was enough of a info-dump! If anyone has anymore questions please ask i have so much lore please-

#candy girl answers #our life 2 #our life: now and forever #our life mc #aaliyah dubois #eve cortez williams

[giggly-squiggily]

ooo, sentence starters! if Pokemon Scarlet/Violet requests are still open, could I get one with Kieran and one of the protagonists (i forgot their names rip) with the sentence starter “I’ve never heard you laugh before”? Thank you so much! :D

(sorry if this is worded weirdly, i’ve never asked for a request before haha)

AHH KIERAN!!! I wasn't expecting a prompt for him so I'm so, so happy right now EJJEJRKEJKREJK I've gotcha covered, anon! :D (And no worries at all- you did great! :3)

For the protags, I decided to go with Juliana cause why not? :3

“You know? I’ve been here for..what, three days?” Juliana mused, leaning into her folded hands as she stared at Kieran. “And yet- I’ve never heard you laugh before.”

“That’s…true.” Said boy paused between his words, brows furrowing in thought. “I guess there isn’t much to laugh about lately.”

“Not even at the festival?” When Kieran shrugged, Juliana’s brows furrowed, a frown pulling at the corners of her lips. “That won’t do…”

“It’s not a bad thing! I just- what are you doing?” Kieran leaned back when Julianna leaned forward, inches from his face. “Juliana?”

“Laugh.” She pulled a face, crossing her eyes and sticking out her tongue. Kieran stared at her like she grew a second head.

“What are you- stop that!” His lips twitched when she pulled another face, wrinkling her nose and raising her eyebrows. “It’s not gonna work!”

“I see you smiling~” The girl teased, grabbing his knees and squeezing. “Come on! Laugh for me, Kieran!”

“Eehehe! Nohohoho, don’t dohoho thahahaht!” Kieran yelped, doubling over and grabbing her hands. “Juhuuhuhuliahahahana!”

“There it is!” Delighted, Juliana pressed on, switching from squeezing to skittering and further sending the smaller trainer into hysterics. “Listen to you, you sound so cute when you laugh! Come on- I wanna see you smile!”

“Nohohoohhooo! I dohohohohon’t wahahhahant tooohoho! Kieran tried to cover his face, turning away from her. This proved to be his downfall as Julianna shot her hands up, squeezing the space beneath his ribs. “AH! AHHEHAHAHAHA JUHUHUHUHULIIHIHIHI!”

“Oo, we’re on nickname bases now? What’s wrong, Kiki? Does it tickle?” She cooed, pushing him on his side as her fingers danced along his stomach and ribs. “Does it tickle lots? Huh? Come on- show me your smile! Show me!”

“AEHAHHAHAHA!” With some reluctance, Kieran reached out, grabbing her shoulders with a squeaky “STAHHAP!” Only then the tickles came to an end. “Ehehehe..ehehehe..thehehere! Hahahappy?” He groaned, his cheeks hurting from smiling so much.

Juliana took it in, something soft in her eyes as she reached out and poked his flushed cheek.

“Very.”

Send me a pairing a sentence starter and a pairing and I'll write a 300 word dabble for it!

#Puffs #sentence starters #tickle #tickle dabble #pokemon #scarlet and violet #teal mask #scarvio dlc #kieran #protags #juliana

[drugsforaddicts]

is it okay to ask more questions about tampere interview/meeting JO in general?

tbh I'm just wondering how you ended up talking with Mark and what you talked about :3c (is he cool? I bet he's cool lol)

oh, and did you meet/talk to anyone else from their crew? Nico the tour manager? Kiki the Icon? :D

ofc feel free to ignore if the answer is too personal, and thank you in advance! love your blog ❤️💚

Aww thank you anon! 🥰

Literally just walked up to him after the second Tavastia gig, shook his hand and started talking 😅 Younger me could've never but now I'm old and I don't want to regret stuff I didn't do. And he is so lovely, back in Tavastia he asked us if we enjoyed the show and the surprise (Jere being the "surprise" lmao) and in Tampere he was all "take your time with the setup, no need to worry" + he wanted to try out our game first and he was even faster than the boys to complete it! Also gave us some ideas what to do with the game (it really warms up my heart how they all really liked it.) TBH I can't even form sentences how much I adore and appreciate him. He also deserves the world 💛 (he literally was still editing the SSOL mv the night before it dropped to get the new nordic tour material in.)

Sadly didn't meet anyone else from the crew. But maybe next time? 👀 Did talk with Häärijä for quite some time after Tavastia but that's about it. He's so sweet too, he makes you feel like you've known him for your whole life, it's wild!

#ask

[warriorbard2012]

Heey! Have you done 26. "Helping them build their confidence before an important meeting"? If not, may I request Vaxleth? Thank you :D

Hi Raven! Thank you very much for the prompt! I hope I did it justice! These two cuties are becoming one of my favorite ships to write for!

(A/N: This story is part of an AU I'm calling the Vax Lives verse, where Scanlan manages to use his wish spell to prevent the RQ from taking Vax at the end of C1. He and Keyleth are now happily married and are living in Zephrah.

Also, There is a trigger warning on this one for a mention of a miscarriage. No graphic detail is given, but it is mentioned. Feel free to skip this one if you need to.) 

“Breathe,” Vax gently took Keyleth’s hand. “Breathe with me.” She squeezed it heavily, which hurt a little, but he didn’t care. “Everything’s okay.” He gently casts Lay on Hands to try and get rid of the sick feeling in her gut.

It must have worked because Keyleth finally took a breath, and then she leaned forward and rested her forehead against his shoulder. “Ugh. This sucks.”

He let go of her hand to rub her back, ignoring the smell of sickness in the air. He hated this too. He hated when she was sick. But this… this was something that she couldn’t avoid. She just had to endure it, and he vowed to be right there with her doing whatever he could to help her feel better. 

“I know, love. Just a few more months, and hopefully, things will settle.” He kissed her hair and continued to rub her back.

“We are late. I hope Dad isn’t going to be too upset.” Keyleth said, her words still muffled into his shoulder.

Vax chuckled. “Considering the whole point of us having dinner is to tell him you are pregnant, I hope not.”

Keyleth signed and pulled away. “Is it too soon? I don’t want to get his hopes up.”

Vax’s smile faded and he gently pulled her with him into the window seat of their bedroom and sat her in his lap to hold her close. He put his hand on her belly. He could barely feel the bump where their child was slowly growing. Everything seemed fine so far, but so had the other pregnancy.  His memories went to the child they had lost before, and he said a prayer for them. He knew that miscarriages happen sometimes, but that knowledge didn’t take away the pain.

“That’s up to you, Kiki. I support you, and if you don't want to tell him yet then we won't.”

Keyleth sighed. “It seems stupid, but I’m worried that he’s going to be disappointed.”

“Why?” Vax asked softly, gently running his fingers through her short red hair.”Disappointed that we lost a child, or disappointed that we tried again so soon?” He was a bit confused.

“I don’t know,” Keyleth replied softly. She hesitated for a moment, gathering her thoughts, and then continued. “Maybe it’s just me, and I’m projecting.” She sighed. “I’m just excited, worried, hopeful, and scared all at the same time and I don’t know how to feel.

Vax nodded his head, understanding all of that as well. He gently kissed the back of her neck and held her just a little bit tighter.

“Well, the only way to find out is to tell him and see what he says. And for the record, I feel the same way, love. I’m worried about you and the baby, but yet I’m so excited that I could shout. I don’t want this one to end in disappointment and sadness, but some things are out of our control or understanding. No matter what I will be right here by your side, loving you through it all for as long as I can.”

Keyleth turned slightly to kiss him on the lips; then, she hugged him. “I love you. How do always know what to say to make me feel better?”

He grinned and gently teased her bottom lip between his before letting go. “Because I know you and I love you. I’ve devoted the rest of my days to making you happy. It’s my one goal in life.”

Keyleth found herself blushing even after the years they had shared. “Such a poet, my love. Careful, you will make Scanlan jealous.”

They shared a laugh, and then, after a few moments of resting, Keyleth stood up. She turned and held out her hand to Vax. “Well, I’m ready. Thank you.”

Vax allowed her to help him up, and then he squeezed her hand before letting go. “No thanks needed, Kiki.” He nudged her hip gently with hers. “It’s my honor, truly.”

She nudged him back. She bent down to reach for her bag, but Vax grabbed it first.

“Hey.”

“This is my honor too. It’s part of my duties as a husband. I’m the official bag carrier.”

Keyleth snorted. “Dork.” Then she put her arm in his, and together they made their way towards her father’s cottage.

Edit: 6/2/23 This has now been posted on AO3! You can find the link here!

#critical role #vaxleth #vaxildan #keyleth of the air ashari #warriorbard2012writes #answering voicemail #ravendruid #Vax Lives AU #CR c1 spoilers

[masschase]

ABCD for Kiki

4 headcanons ask meme

Headcanon A:  realistic

Trans Kiki dammit! Idk if kikidewynter would appreciate being tagged here or not for credit but the idea that Kiki took Viola as her reference for her facial feminisation surgery wormed its way right into my heart. And I think it was deathandsaints who added that they probably aren't identical twins because their voices are quite different. So I think it's perfectly realistic.

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious

She definitely seems the more outgoing so I can see it being that over time, she became more and more confident in doing stuff for Viola to the point where the gulf between them being shy and confident just widened and widened because of that behaviour. Basically a lot of "she asked for no pickles" kind of stuff which I feel like someone on here has actually drawn or screenshotted before? 🤣 Viola doesn't seem *that* shy in canon though so idk. Funny as that is it would make it so sad when she's gone 😥

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends

Idk if this counts as it's sort of a Viola one but... for whatever reason (actually for that reason I said somewhere about how GOOH is all just the Boss's personal hell) enemies and betrayers go to hell, Saints go to heaven, right, so shouldn't that include Viola? Well... I believe Viola should have gone to heaven as she was reformed or whatever. But she was sent to hell because whatever fucked up thing decides all this shit knew it wouldn't really be heaven without her sister. 🥲

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own.

OK idk which the canon was most suggesting to reject it so either:

She and Dane have a long and fulfilling hell marriage OR

She and Dane divorce after like, a week (thank god for the prenup)

I feel like it would be weirder if it did last and was like a genuine thing they both find but 🤣... basically, whichever one is funnier.

#kiki dewynter #asks #thanks for the ask! #saints row

[femmesweetheart]

For the ask game number 5!

Oooooo yippie thank you!!! :D

5. Top 3 movies

Kiki’s delivery service!!

Kamikaze girls

Amelie

🌷🌷🌷

[waltwhitmansbeard]

Hi :D

From the post-argument prompts, may I request "feeling guilty so you perform an act of kindness (ex: making them their fave food) as an indirect apology" for Vax and Kiki in Grow with the flow? (Or another setting if you prefer)

Thank you <3 <3

feeling guilty so you perform an act of kindness (ex: making them their fave food) as an indirect apology  check out the grow with the flow au!

Pink roses, for gratitude and appreciation.

Her father always warned her against starting a business with her significant other. He told her all kinds of stories about the fights he and her mom used to have about the farm, about what kind of feed to buy and what farmer's markets they were going to hit and how much of the fields they should let lie fallow each year. He always said it could ruin a marriage, a business.

Turns out cancer'll do that just as well.

So Keyleth never took those words to heart, because she and Vax just work so well together. She's a perfectionist and he's a doer. He asks all the right questions and she articulates the answers so well. She has the knowledge, and he knows how to package it up into something that will be helpful to their audience. It just...works.

Blue hyacinths, for peace.

And okay, maybe just because something works doesn't mean it can't be worked on. Maybe she got used to how easy things have gotten, the steady push and pull of their routine. Maybe she got too comfortable, too reliant.

Maybe she started taking things for granted.

And that's why she's so mad at herself, why her shoulders bear the permanent hunch of shame. She knows how hard he works, how much of himself he pours into each podcast episode and livestream and Instagram post. He is, frankly, the genius of the operation, and she can barely look herself in the mirror for forgetting it, for letting the annoyance creep up into her tone when he told her he just couldn't edit today.

Pink carnations, for saying "I'll never forget you."

Because she also knows how he struggles. She sees it on the mornings it takes him a few extra minutes to get out of bed, or the days he stares at his running shoes, unable to bend down to put them on. There are so many things that are just harder for him, harder in ways she'll never understand, and though her own anxieties act as barriers in their own way, she knows she walks through the world with an ease that sometimes eludes him.

(Sometimes, in her own perverse, weird way, she wishes she could reach into his brain, poke around and reconfigure things until he loves himself the way she loves him, until he looks in the mirror and sees with startling clarity all the ways in which he is wonderful, remarkable, perfect. More than that, she wishes she could go back to this morning, before she put a megaphone up to all those terrible voices only he hears, echoing their death rattles until they became the cacophony he couldn't escape.)

Lily of the valley, for rebirth.

She's spent the last four hours getting it right, picking and placing and pruning until the bouquet says all of the things she should have said in the first place. When she's finished, she sits on their recording loveseat and waits, chewing anxiously on her lip, avoiding Simon's judgemental stares, but she can only wait so long before her bouncing leg bounces her right up out of her seat. She grabs the flowers and a jacket and heads out into the dusk.

She finds him where she knew he'd be. When she walks into Gilmore's, the man himself is behind the bar, polishing some glasses. Keyleth sidles up, eyes on the farthest booth, where a familiar head of black hair sits alone. "How many has he had?"

Gilmore gives her a reassuring smile. "Been nursing the one since he got here. Taking up my best table, too." And Keyleth knows well enough that it's not a complaint.

When she slides into the booth across from him, she lets the flowers do the talking. (They're so much better at it than she is.) Wordlessly, he picks it up, spins it around, takes stock of which ones she's included. (He knows what they mean. He's a much better listener than she'll ever be.) He presses his nose into a lily. It is so lovely against his skin.

She waits. There is chatter in the bar, but it fades to static as she watches him. He looks so tired. How did she miss that this morning? He sets the bouquet on the table, reaches across, and holds her hand.

White tulips, for forgiveness and renewal.

#ask #ravendruid #grow with the flow au #in which vax canonically has depression!!!!! #king shit!!!! #critical role #critical role fic #cr fic #vaxleth #vaxleth fic #vaxleth au #vox machina #vox machina fic #vox machina au #my fic

[ogdoadfates]

Hi!! May I ask for "I made dinner! come sit, you need some real food." from the Considerate prompts with Vax and Keyleth? :D

Thank you ^_^

Heya!!! You got it! We are going the bones au this time around because it’s the only au I have right now where I have an idea for this prompt XD And ya know what? I always write Vax taking care of Kiki so why don’t we go the other way around! This would be when they’ve been with each other for a while and a bit after they moved in together.

"I made dinner! Come sit, you need some real food."-Considerate prompts

After every case the group goes out for drinks to celebrate and after that everyone gets to go home in a timely manner, everyone except Vax and occasionally Scanlan that is.

Vax gets stuck doing loads upon loads of paperwork, phone calls, and just a whole lot of other tedious and boring things. Meaning he only ever gets to go home at an ungodly time, hungry, tired and until recently he didn’t really have anything to look forward to when he went home. 

But now? Now he knows Keyleth’s there most likely asleep on the couch after trying to stay up for him. He can’t help but smile remembering the first time she did that, he still can’t describe all the emotions that swarmed him that night. Poor Keyleth had to deal with him being a crying clingy mess till they fell asleep.

Vax parks his car, stretching a bit before exiting and heading inside the apartment building. He gives the receptionist a nod before heading into the elevator.

Vax rubs his neck, gods he’s tired and as if it was a puppy feeling neglected his stomach gives off a rumble to remind him he hasn’t eaten since lunch and it’s currently three minutes till one in the morning.

The elevator chimes and with that he starts his walk to his and Keyleth’s apartment. When reaching for his key he stops. Vax can just faintly hear shuffling on the other side of the door. Oh, Keyleth. You’re going to be exhausted tomorrow. Finally he gets his key and enters the apartment.

As soon as he crosses the threshold his nose is assaulted with a cacophony of delicious smells, quietly he closes the door behind him and follows the smell. 

He finds Keyleth in the kitchen crouching in front of the oven watching whatever laid inside till she notices his presence with a start causing her to yelp. “What are you doing?” He says warmly giving off a few chuckles as well to which she just rolls her eyes at him and gets up, giving him a warm smile.

“I made Dinner!” Keyleth chirps and gods does Vax’s heart fall even further for this wondrous woman. “Come sit, you need some real food.” She says nodding her head toward their small dining table as she gets herself busy getting everything.

He’s fully aware that he’s staring at her but he can’t help it. This amazing human who’s been constantly trying to stay up for him finally did and most likely held off on having dinner herself so she could make one for the both of them to share. How did he ever get so lucky? How did he ever manage to get the same feelings of love that he has for her returned to him from such a smart and compassionate person? He doesn’t know but he sends a silent prayer to whatever god will listen to thank them for such a wondrous life he has been given.

Eventually Keyleth has everything set and the two can finally eat, from there the night or well early morning goes on in blissful soft chatter. The two opt to clean the dishes at another time and finally retire to their bedroom. They huddle together underneath their bedsheets with Vax’s head laying on Keyleth’s chest and their legs intertwined.

“Thank you, for all of this just thank you.” Vax mumbles into her to which she laughs, the bubbly sound relaxing Vax’s very soul and the vibration echoing throughout her and into him warming his heart.

“You don’t have to thank me Vax, I wanted to do it and you deserve nice things.” Vax feels like she’d just launched an arrow through his heart and holds onto her tighter burying his face even further into her chest, causing her to chuckle and for a warm blush to travel from the top of her chest to the very tips of her ears.

“I love you, Kiki.” He says just barely above a whisper. Keyleth inhales and lets it out slowly, taking a hand to rub comforting circles into Vax’s back, laying a kiss to his forehead.

“I love you too, Vax.”

#bones (yes the crime show) au #keyleth x vax #vax x keyleth #keyleth #vax'ildan #vax #answered ask #answered prompt #vaxleth

[munsons-maiden]

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝𝐬 𝐀𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟒

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏   ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐     ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑  

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒    ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓    ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟔  

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟕    ▹ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟖   ▹ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟗

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟎  ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟏  ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟐

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟑

Thank you so much for all the support on this series so far and your patience; all the lovely comments and reblogs and asks are making my days and I’m so happy about every single one of them🖤 I hope you enjoy this chapter! - Love, Kiki 🖤  

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 |  Eddie Munson x female reader

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 |  THEN. You’re the only survivor among the Mind Flayer’s victims, thanks to your friends - but after the Battle of Starcourt, you find yourself adrift in a sea of nightmares. Until an encounter in the woods with Eddie The Freak Munson offers an unexpected life line and turns your world upside down. NOW. Four months have passed since the winter night you walked out of Eddie’s trailer and his life for good. But when the mysterious headaches and nightmares return full-force and something wicked stirs in sleepy Hawkins, starting a witch hunt against Eddie, you realize that there are two things in this world  that might be more persistent  than you’d thought: Evil…and love. The story is told in two timelines: the past (after the Battle of Starcourt) and the present (during the events of season 4).

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 | angst with a happy ending (I PROMISE!!!), fluff, smut, it turned into a fix it fic for ST4

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SMUT (you need to be 18+ to read this story!), angst with a happy ending, attempted assault, bullying, canon-typical violence  

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 | ~1 hour

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | mentions of attempted assault, canon-typical gore & violence, blood

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.  

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 & 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝, 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 ♡

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏   ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐     ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑  

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒    ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓    ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟔  

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟕    ▹ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟖   ▹ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟗

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟎  ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟏  ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟐

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟑

[Wednesday, March 27th, 1986.

MIDNIGHT.]

Life’s not a game of D&D.

That’s what Wayne Munson used to tell Eddie. He’d said it when the cops had escorted a distraught sixteen-years-old Eddie back home because they’d caught him drinking a beer. He’d said it again when he’d picked up Eddie at the police station two years later because Andy Warren had snitched on Eddie’s drug dealing, and he’d said it when, a few weeks later, a letter from school had informed him that Eddie wouldn’t graduate. And the year after that, when a similar letter had found its way to the Munson trailer.

Wayne had never been one to get angry at Eddie, though.

He’d shouted at him once, when Eddie had still been a kid and he’d accidentally smashed the pane of the kitchen window with a baseball bat – but the way Eddie had flinched and shied away in response had stuck with Wayne Munson, and he’d never again raised his voice at his nephew.

It was the disappointment which stung, probably more than the words warning him not to veer off the right path even though Wayne knew, with all his heart, that Eddie would never wind up like the older Munson brother had.

It were those words, though, that came to Eddie’s mind now.

They were true.

While, as in life, D&D was an intricate pattern of choices following each other, tipping into each other like domino stones, the throw of the dice guided by the hands of luck determining the outcome as much as the player’s choice…some choices were a gamble.

You rolled the dice and hoped for the best, hoped luck would make you stronger than the monsters.

Sometimes you were lucky and landed a Crit Hit, a natural twenty defeating evil.

Sometimes, you weren’t, and the dice sealed your fate.

But Wayne had been right when it came to one crucial point.

When you died at the gaming table, there would be other games, other campaigns.

In life, there was only one campaign.

And no way to get back in once the dice had kicked you out.

[FIFTY MINUTES TO MIDNIGHT.]

Don’t try to be cute, okay? Don’t try to be heroes.

Steve’s words still rang in your mind as you watched the three figures walking away from the Forest Hills trailer park, past the Welcome sign at the side of the road that didn’t look welcoming at all covered by tar-black creepers, your friends’ backpacks stacked with makeshift-weapons.

Nancy’s curly head, Steve’s broad shoulders, and Robin, fiddling nervously with the straps of her backpack.

The plan was a simple one.

You’d split into three teams.

Team Creel House in the Rightside Up with Max as Vecna’s bait, accompanied by Erica and Lucas.

Team Demobats with Eddie, Dustin and you, waiting for the signal to lure the swarm of bats away from Vecna’s lair in the Upside Down version of Creel House and towards Eddie’s trailer to clear the path for team number three – Team Crit Hit, with Nancy, Robin and Steve, armed to the teeth and ready to land the killing blow as soon as the bats were gone and Vecna was defenseless in the trance of his making.

A perfect row of dominos, waiting for the first one to be tipped.

Something felt…weird. Off.

As if you all should have been greeted by an army of monsters upon entering the Upside Down again.

But the Upside Down was calm and still, like the surface of a lake in a tranquil night.

In the distance, your friends had reached the tree line of the woods separating the trailer park from the rest of Hawkins, leading right up to the little hill and Creel House like the crown on top of it.

And with every step they took, increasing the distance, every second that passed…that sense of doom descended upon you, nestled in your guts.

As if something horrible was going to happen.

In your mind, the branches of the naked trees in the woods were turning into skeletal hands, reaching out for your friends.

In a matter of minutes, everything in this place would try to kill them. Kill all of you.

But above all else…it would try to kill Eddie.

Eddie, your songbird, who would soon be on the roof of that trailer to draw in hundreds, thousands of the very bats which had devoured him in your nightmares sweat-soaked night after sweat-soaked night for the past four months.

Nightmares…or something else. Something way more horrible than a nightmare.

Because nightmares, no matter how cruel, ended at some point. You woke up, and the horror was over.

But what if they had never been nightmares or threats at all, but…visons? Glimpses not of what Vecna wanted to do to Eddie or what you feared most, but at the future itself?

Voices floated over to where you standing at the side of the trailer, and your fist tightened around the can of gasoline you’d been holding, its contents emptied on the dead grass in a ring around the Munson trailer, ready to be set aflame once the bats had arrived to keep them trapped and diverted.

“…looks so cool.”

“As if she was destined for another dimension.”

Eddie’s voice pierced the gloom and fear in your heart as you turned to where Dustin and Eddie were sitting on the steps leading up to the Munson trailer.

Eddie was holding his Warlock guitar in his lap, the deep, dark red of the instrument a splotch of color amidst the obscure half-dark of the Upside Down.

“You think you can teach me when we’re out of here? To play guitar?” You could practically feel Dustin vibrate with his excitement, and Eddie’s surprised smile in reply as he scanned Dustin’s face.

“Uh, yeah. Sure. I still got my first guitar. It was an acoustic one. It’ll do for a start.”

“Wait, you’re not gonna teach me with that one?”, Dustin inquired with a nod at the Warlock guitar.

There was a beat of silence as Eddie gave Dustin a playfully shocked once-over. “Hell, no. You gotta start slow. Like when you learn to ride a bike. You’re gonna start with the old acoustic guitar. It’s your metaphorical training wheels. Gotta earn this beautiful sweetheart here.”

You smiled as Eddie gently patted the polished surface of the instrument in his lap, before his gaze flitted to Dustin, who was fiddling with the sleeves of his hoodie. It was obvious, even from the distance, how anxious the boy was.

“You know,” Eddie began slowly, a small smile curving his lips, “I could show a few chords, though.”

“Right now?” Dustin’s head snapped up.

“No time like the present,” Eddie shrugged, “They didn’t even RT to tell us they’re in position yet so, uh, guess we gotta pass the time some way.”

Hadn’t you known Eddie so well, you might have fallen for his lighthearted, decidedly bored tone.

But you knew him better than you knew the pages of your favorite book, better than your own heart.

And you could tell he was scared – trying hard to play it cool for Dustin’s sake, probably fighting the overpowering urge to pace around like a trapped beast.

You could see the tremor shaking Eddie’s hand when he patted the spot on the concrete step below, gesturing for Dustin to sit between his legs so he could show the boy how to hold the guitar, and your heart was overflowing with affection at the gesture.

Eddie had always taken care of others. Had given them a safe place in Hellfire when they’d been lost in the shark tank that was Hawkins High, a place where they wouldn’t be judged or scorned upon.

You didn’t know much about Eddie’s past, but you knew enough to fill in some blanks. To know that, when Eddie could have become cold and uncaring and mean just like the world treated him…he had chosen kindness. He had chosen to remain gentle instead of letting the vile words and the bullying he’d had to endure harden his heart, and he’d chosen to look after others when it would have been so much easier to just take care of himself.

You wished you could tell Eddie, who kept insisting he wasn’t a hero and would never be, how much of a hero he already was, for being himself in a world that tried to change him – and for giving others a place and the courage to be themselves as well. Hell, he’d done the very same thing for you, without you even noticing it, you realized now.

It was so easy, to let your guards down around Eddie, to be yourself. As easy as breathing. As easy as loving him.

You stayed in your spot around the trailer’s corner, not wanting to interrupt the moment between the two, and your heart swelled even more, like the sea come high tide, at the happy little smile on Dustin’s face as he sat on the step between Eddie’s legs.

Eddie would have been the most amazing big brother.

“Whoa, careful, man,” Eddie cautioned as Dustin’s arms shot up to make room for the guitar, and with the same gentleness as if it were a wounded little bird, Eddie slowly placed the guitar in Dustin’s lap.

“’Kay, you put it on your thigh, and then your left hand goes here –“ he explained as he took Dustin’s hand to place it on the guitar neck, “And the other goes here. There.”

“And now?”

There was a distorted clang of the guitar’s strings being pulled and a strangled sound ripping from Eddie that sounded as if he’d stepped on Lego while walking barefoot, and you pressed your hand in front of your mouth to catch the giggle threatening to spill and give you away as Eddie exclaimed, “Jesus Christ, Henderson, careful.”

“Sorry! Sorry. What now?”

“We start with a few simple chords. Gimme a sec.”

“Old Macdonald Had A Farm?”, Dustin proposed, giving Eddie a look over his shoulder, and even from your spot half-hidden behind the corner, you could sense the offended glance Eddie was giving Dustin.

“If you’re ever gonna propose to play Old Macdonald Had A Farm on my sweetheart,” Eddie retorted, “You gotta e-i-e-i-o yourself to another D&D club ‘cause you’ll be banished from Hellfire’s game table for the rest of your life. Goddamnit.”

Dustin giggled, before Eddie reached out to place his hands over Dustin’s still hovering over the guitar’s strings, guiding the boy’s fingers apart before placing them over the strings on the guitar neck.

“We’re gonna start with the first riff of You’ve Got Another Thing Comin, that’s an easy one. ’Kay, like that – that’s an F – and then with your right hand, you do this –“, he steered Dustin’s other hand over the strings, the first note floating into the air, “And then you switch the left one here, to B –“

A second note, and then a third one, joined the white spores floating through the air, the guitar’s soft sounds obscured and dulled by the weird atmosphere of the place, and for a few moments, you listened to Eddie’s voice, giving instructions and explaining the notes, accompanied by the soft tinkling sounds of the guitar, slowly, the same seven notes repeating before Eddie announced, “Yeah, that’s good. There, try on your own.”

“Now?”

“’course. Who’s gonna judge you, the monsters?”, Eddie snickered, but it didn’t sound mocking at all.

There was a pause before the first note warbled into the air, then the next, slow and stumbling but definitely a melody, and when the final note of the little riff floated into the air, Dustin threw Eddie a questioning, proud little grin over his shoulder.

“Dude,” Eddie grinned, giving Dustin’s head a gentle shove, “That was good!”

“I think I could learn it.”

“Sure. We’re gonna make a guitarist out of you in no time.”

“Suzie’s going to love it,” Dustin grinned, before the smile slipped a little. “Steve says girls love guys who can play instruments.”

Eddie gave Dustin a dubious glance as he took the guitar back into his own hands, fingers working to tune the instrument a final time for the big moment as his eyes narrowed.

“Are you tryna learn to play the guitar to impress a girl or because you want to learn it?”

Dustin hesitated. “Both? I mean…it doesn’t hurt, right?”

You waited for Eddie to muster one of his usual witty retorts, anything…but he didn’t.

There was a beat of silence. When Eddie spoke up again, his voice had lost its playfulness, his tone gentle but stern. “You shouldn’t do things to impress others. Ever.”

“It’s just a tiny little thing,” Dustin protested, but Eddie’s hand gently game to rest on the boy’s shoulder, the silver rings glinting in the half-light, and Dustin fell silent again.

“It’s not. It’s not just a tiny little thing, you hear me? The way you dress, the things you like, the way you’re passionate about the things you enjoy, those aren’t little things. The sum of those things makes you you. And you should be proud of them, of who you are. If you actually wanna learn to play the guitar, because you think it will be fun, I’m gonna teach you. Right away. Tomorrow, if you’re up for it,” Eddie chuckled. “But I need you to promise me something, ‘kay?”

With Eddie’s head turned to face Dustin, you could only see the back of his head, his mane of dark curls spilling from the bandana almost ink-black in the dim light of the Upside Down. But you didn’t need to see his face to know his expression was stern. There was something strange in Eddie’s voice as he gently settled a hand on Dustin’s shoulder.

As if he urged the boy to listen.

As if it was the last chance to tell him.

Dustin seemed to sense it, too. His smile slipped, his expression growing serious.

“Never change, Dustin Henderson. Not for anyone. Not ever. Promise me?”

The words were like a punch to your gut.

They sounded like goodbye.

“I…yeah,” Dustin uttered, surprised, but you didn’t get to hear the rest of the conversation.

You spun around, your hand pressed in front of your mouth to suppress the sob already lodged at the back of your throat, the blood roaring in your ears –

The crackle of static pierced the air, followed by Nancy’s urgent voice through Dustin’s walkie.

“They’re in position. You can start diverting the bats.”

“Alright,” Eddie replied, rising to his feet alongside Dustin, who was already in the process of shutting off the walkie again, and Eddie’s gaze met yours as you took a step around the corner.

Only then did you realize you were still holding the empty canister in your grip, fist tightened around the metal handle hard enough to make your knuckles go numb.

“Gimme a sec,” Eddie murmured as Dustin already started to climb the ladder to the roof, and you watched him break into a little sprint towards you.

“You ready for the most metal concert in the history of the world, monster slayer? Might dedicate it to you if you cheer loud enough for m-“ He cut himself off as he reached you, the grin slipping from his face as he took in your expression.

“What’s wrong?”, he asked gently, prying the empty canister from your hand to lace your fingers with his own.

“You were saying goodbye,” you whispered, choked already by the stupid tears that wouldn’t stop flowing. “Why are you saying goodbye?”

“No, no, no, I didn’t. I just…I dunno, I wanted Henderson to know. That’s all. It was the right moment.”

“You feel it, too,” you breathed. “You can feel that something will happen.”

“Shit, I’m scared out of my mind. But I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always come back to you, no matter what, remember?”, Eddie inquired softly, raising his free hand, the one with your green silk ribbon tied around his wrist. “You said it always found its way back to you. So will I, sweetheart. Always and forever, ‘kay? Just like you’ll always find your way back to me.”

With the softest smile, he tapped his index finger against his guitar pick dangling around your neck, before he tucked it underneath the collar of your Hellfire shirt for safekeeping.

And with his eyes on yours, he drew the zipper of your own combat vest closed a little higher.

“It’s gonna be metal. And in two months, when we graduated and we’re skinny dipping in the ocean on some Californian beach by night, we’re gonna laugh about it.”

Eddie’s hands snaked up to cup your cheeks while he leaned in, his lips capturing yours for a kiss, searing and passionate and desperate.

So very desperate, his lips moving against yours while he pressed closer, chest to chest, racing heartbeat against racing heartbeat, plunging you into sweet oblivion for a few blissful seconds as your eyes fluttered closed and your senses zoned in on the movement of Eddie’s soft lips on yours, his scent, memorizing the moment.

And once more, you wished you could freeze time right now. Freeze this moment and place it in the glittering world of a snow globe behind thick, polished glass. Keeping it safe.

You memorized it, the way it felt like whenever Eddie kissed you, like sparks and glitter and sunlight rushing through your veins. The way his breath hitched when you reciprocated the kiss, as if he were still surprised by the fact that you were kissing him back. The way his hands were warm on the sides of your face, the way his thumb grazed your racing pulse before he gently angled your head to deepen the kiss, your own fingertips brushing over the fabric of the bandana tied around his head before tangling in the soft curls at the nape of his neck to pull him closer.

The way he tasted, of Yoo-Hoo and the faintest trace of cigarettes, of himself.

It was over too soon.

Tears pricked your eyes as Eddie untangled himself from you, his umber eyes shimmering with his own panic as they found yours, holding your gaze as he gently placed a kiss on your knuckles.

“I love you. See you in a few, monster slayer,” Eddie smiled.

I love you, too, you wanted to tell him, but the words were stuck in your throat, suffocated by the tears which threatened to spill from you.

Eddie turned to race away, towards the ladder resting against the side of the Munson trailer, the strings of his guitar strapped to his back caught the dim light of the lonely street lamp flickering a few feet away, shedding its pale beam across the space.

Don’t let this have been the last kiss, you silently begged, raising your head towards the skies to combat the tears of panic, a plea at the stars, just like you’d done that November night after you’d broken his heart.

For the briefest of moments, your mind flitted back to that night in November, when you’d been with him on this very roof. When the skies above hadn’t been an endless void, but a glittering sea of stars. When you’d first seen the door with its stained-glass roses – and the Mind Flayer’s spidery silhouette looming right above Eddie. Watching him.

Vecna watching him, finding your weak spot, the one thing in the world which’s loss would thoroughly destroy you.

It was that night, you realized, that Vecna had picked him.

Keep him save.

But there were no stars in the skies arching over the Upside Down.

Only darkness.

But something else stirred awake at your unspoken plea.

Not something in the frozen world around you…but something from within your own chest, your own soul, the darkness which had been nestling there ever since Starcourt – the part of Vecna’s powers you’d stolen – like a sleepy cat raising its head, yellow eyes blinking open to see who’d roused it from its slumber.

And just like at the clearing, with Eddie’s gentle voice guiding you towards that sliver of darkness within your heart, your eyes fluttered closed.

This time, though, for the first time…there was no fear or repulsion when you thought about the darkness.

Something had changed, a few hours ago.

A knife in itself isn’t a bad thing. It can’t be good or bad, it’s just a weapon. It’s a matter of who wields it and for what cause that determines a weapon’s purpose. In those three times these powers have been activated, it has been to protect. Not once did they flare to life to attack.

Eddie’s words were still present in your mind, the truth you hadn’t seen those past few months because fear and panic had been clouding your mind.

All those months, it had been Vecna who’d sent the headaches and nosebleeds, the hallucinations and nightmares that had haunted you like a horde of demons – not darkness you’d ripped from him.

You could feel it react to your thoughts, something alive and conscious yet bound to you, part of you. It laced around your mind like tendrils of black mist, weaving around your thoughts like a cat weaving around its owner’s legs in greeting.

Like a companion.

The realization crossed your mind like the sudden flash of a shooting star cutting through the darkness of your panic.

It wanted to save Eddie, because you wanted to save Eddie.

It loved Eddie, because you loved Eddie.

And all of a sudden…you didn’t feel so alone anymore in your endeavor to protect him.

To your own surprise, you could feel a tentative smile tuck at your lips.

The high-pitched noise of the amplifiers positioned on the Munson trailer’s roof as Eddie connected them to his guitar tore you from your thoughts, and you craned your neck to get a glimpse at him as the first few notes of the guitar riff pierced the eerie silence of the Upside Down.

 [MIDNIGHT.]

Eddie had believed they could do it.

That it was possible, to break the curse, set the girl he loved free from her demons and end the horrors haunting Hawkins.

That he could take you to prom, to the beach, whisk you away from small-minded little Hawkins.

But then everything had gone so horribly wrong.

Like a row of dominos collapsing on each other.

And once the first domino had toppled over…there was no way to stop the rest from falling, too, one after the other.              

He’d bought you more time – in exchange for all of his own. That’s why people called it buying time, after all. It came with a price.

It was the words within the pages of his favorite story of all that came to his mind, in the end.

I would rather spend one lifetime with you than face all the ages of the world alone.

He was only sorry that this one lifetime had been such a brutally short one.

 [THIRTY MINUTES TO MIDNIGHT.]

The song Eddie had chosen wasn’t soft and slow like the metal songs he’d turned into ballads when he’d played for you Saturday after Saturday to ward off your nightmares while you’d slept in his bed.

It wasn’t an unspoken confession of love he drew from the strings of his guitar right now – it was a declaration of war.

It was a battle cry.

You’d always known Eddie Munson was a force of nature when it came to the things he loved. It had always drawn you in, his unwavering, infectious joy and passion – for D&D, for music and playing the guitar, for metal and art and stories.

But as you watched him now, you realized that Eddie was made for this.

The rooftop of his trailer became his stage, his spotlight the crimson bolts of lightning slashing across the fabric of the starless skies above, illuminating his pale features, making the metal on his hands and his wrists glint.

With a euphoric smile on his lips, he threw his head back, wild dark curls flying around his handsome face and skilled fingers dancing over the strings of his guitar as he let himself get carried away by the music.

You could easily imagine him playing for a crowd of thousands.

He looked beautiful.

Ethereal.

Like a god of war having arrived to wage his wrath upon the human-turned-monster reigning over this dark mirror realm – and win.

When he began to sing, his dark voice beautifully raspy as it laced with the guitar’s tunes in the cold air, it felt like it was thrumming right along your veins.

“End of passion play, crumbling away

I’m your source of self-destruction.”

You could feel the rage against Vecna in every word, every note; the desire to hunt and kill and hurt this monstrous being which had hurt Eddie – and Max, and you, and all the other victims, destroying life after life, silencing heartbeat after heartbeat. Breaking bone after bone.

Not Eddie’s rage, but your own, you realized, his song pulsing alongside your own heartbeat.

“Veins that pump with fear, sucking darkest clear,

Leading on your death’s construction.”

It sounded scratchy and powerful, his beautiful dark voice weaving the lyrics with the melody he drew from his guitar to form the siren’s song that would lure Vecna’s army of bats away from their master, leaving him vulnerable and defenseless for your friends’ bullets to land the killing blow.

“Taste me you will see,

More is all you need,

Dedicated to

How I’m killing you.”

It was evident why Eddie had chosen this song.

He was quite literally flipping Vecna the bird, in his very own Eddie way.

And watching your songbird caught up in his music he so loved, so passionate as his fingers danced over the strings of his beloved guitar and the lyrics spilling from his lips as Dustin took his place at the edge of the roof, binoculars raised and gaze already trained on the western skies, towards Creel House, you couldn’t help the wide, happy grin tucking at your lips at the infectious joy Eddie was radiating.

“Come crawling faster.”

Tearing your gaze away from Eddie, you squinted, following Dustin’s line of sight to the western sky in the distance, the dark thunderclouds rolling in to herald the storm to come.

And there, above the treetops of the nearby woods…were the first bats.

The ones which must have been closer – only a few, trailblazers for the swarm which would soon follow suit.

Winged death.

And a cruel one, at that.

“Obey your master.”

Over the noise of Eddie’s music, you didn’t hear the sound of the door to the trailer creaking on its rusty old hinges as it was being opened.

“Your life burns faster.”

Neither did you hear the footsteps behind you, drawing closer.

“Obey your

Master

Master.”

A hand settled on your shoulder, fingers digging into the fabric of your own combat vest as your heart dropped with shock and you whirled around.

Coming face to face with a pair of steel blue eyes, bloodshot and crazed with madness.

“Master of puppets, I’m pulling your strings.”

You opened your mouth in shock, but the shellshocked gasp was cut off as Jason’s hand shot out to wrap around your throat.

There was no chance for you to call out for Eddie, to warn him and Dustin.

“Twisting your mind and smashing your dreams.”

“Game over, slut.” Jason’s voice, low and calm like that of a preacher during his Sunday morning sermon, was barely audible over the noise of the music.

But the look in his bloodshot eyes changed, growing darker, hungrier even than before as they locked on a point behind you.

On Eddie.

Too diverted by playing bait for a swarm of monsters on the roof at top volume to notice the ones which had followed you through the gate from the other side.

“Blinded by me you can’t see a thing.”

With Jason’s hand squeezing your throat, cutting off oxygen and making the first stars dancing in your vision as panic swept over you, you closed your eyes and reached out to rouse the darkness nestled within your soul to command it, wield it like a fairy tale knight his flaming sword – but you were too slow.

Jason slammed your head against the trailer’s wall.

“Just call my name ‘cause I’ll hear you scream.”

Stars burst in your vision as the side of your face hit the wall, the pain of the impact hitting you like one of the crimson bolts of lightning above to split your skull as Jason finally let go of your throat.

“Master

Master.”

You slid down the wall, falling like a puppet with its strings cut, your muscles disobeying the desperate command to climb back to your feet while the world spun around you as if you’d been strapped to a carousel, going faster and faster and faster until the world was split into two, three images, all dancing over each other.

Three Jasons looming above you, raising their head like a creature sprung straight out of the cover of one of Eddie’s D&D books, six pairs of eyes locking on the rooftop of the trailer.

“Watch the slut,” he commanded, and in your daze, you followed his gaze to the second person standing on top of the steps to the Munson trailer, his baseball cap casting a shadow across his face, only the flash of his teeth visible as gave you a leering grin.

“My pleasure.”

Andy Warren.

With a nod Jason turned towards the ladder leaning at the trailer’s side, ready to climb towards Eddie and Dustin on the roof – before, one fist already clamped around one of the ladder’s steps, he paused.

You fought the nausea, fought for your hands to splay on the dead grass, fingers digging into the cold earth as your vision started to clear, three Jasons becoming one again while his free hand disappeared in the pocket of his letterman jacket.

“Come crawling faster.”

Help me, you pleaded at the darkness in your soul, reaching out but finding nothing but skull-splitting pain in your head, the ringing in your ears and the roar of your own blood mingling with Eddie’s song, loud enough to drown out the havoc on the ground at his feet as his own eyes and Dustin’s were locked at the distant skies, the first of the bats soaring towards you all across the treetops of the woods.

“Obey your master.”

And through the haze creeping in at the edges of your vision, more lights burst in front of your eyes as Jason pulled his hand out of his pocket again – only it wasn’t lights.

“Your life burns faster.”

It was the glint of a lightning bolt catching on the polished metal surface of whatever it was Jason was holding.

A gun.

Jason had a gun.

No. No, no –

With panic morphing into raw, unfiltered terror, the surge of adrenaline momentarily conquered the pain and the daze of the blow to your head as you crawled across the grass towards Jason, ready to climb to your feet and stop him –

“Be a good girl and stay here, little slut,” Andy drawled. The tip of his sneaker hit your side as he kicked you down into the grass again, hard enough to force the air from your lungs for a second time and plunge you into a world of pain as you felt your ribs cracking, the sensation vibrating through your body as the impact forced you on your back.

“Obey your master.”

There was no air, no strength left in you for a warning scream – but Eddie and Dustin wouldn’t have heard it, anyways. The music was too loud.

And the last thing you saw as your senses were slipping, like water running through your hands as tears of panic and despair ran down your cheeks and fell into the grass, was the glinting gun clamped in Jason’s fist as he climbed the ladder to the roof.

To Eddie.

Just as the first trailblazers of the swarm reached the trailer park.

***

There was never much going on in Eddie’s mind when he played the guitar or sang.

There was only the music, a current washing through him, stronger than the strongest weed could ever be as it infused him with the kind of ecstatic happiness that made him feel like he was flying, like the world was small and far away and the music his wings.

There were only two things that could make him as happy, as alive and awake. Making music – and being with you.

And fucking hell, he was good.

A little bit of self-hype in the face of a slow, painful death currently drawing closer in the distance on leathery wings, he figured, was okay.

It definitely was the most metal concert in the history of the world.

In this moment, Eddie felt more metal than Ozzy himself.

He’d wanted to take you to the Hideout one day so you could see him play with Corroded Coffin…but he wasn’t sure if anything could ever top this.

Most. Metal. Ever.

And in the haze of endorphins and serotonin and all the other -ins currently flooding his system as his fingers danced over the strings of his guitar, his muscles guided by reflexes more than anything else and the lyrics of the song spilling from his lips, it took a few split seconds for Eddie to notice the flash of movement in the corner of his eye.

And when he finally did, it was too late.

The song was cut off, the final note floating among the white spores dancing in the cold air as Eddie froze mid-movement, his eyes locking on the icy blue ones of Jason Carver – before they flitted down.

Coming to rest on the gun aimed right at Eddie’s face.

“Hey, freak,” Jason spat.

His fists were clutching the gun so tightly that his knuckles were white – but there was no tremor running through his hands.

He was as deadly calm as the atmosphere of this dark dimension.

“Jason,” Eddie replied quietly, fighting hard and failing miserably to banish the quiver of panic from his voice as he slowly let go of the guitar strapped around his torso to raise his hands in a gesture of surrender – in the hopes to keep Jason’s focus from straying to Dustin, who was cowering on the roof somewhere behind Eddie.

And if Jason was here, had followed through the gate –

“Where is she,” Eddie breathed, his eyes leaving the barrel of the gun to read Jason’s.

There was not a single spark of sanity left in them.

Nothing, not even the moment he’d realized Vecna had caught you in a trance, could compare to the raw terror gripping Eddie now, like a numbing, freezing, icy wave.

Not for the first of the murderous swarm of bats drawing closer with every second, not even for the gun aimed at his face, but at the thought of what Jason might have done to you, the image of that September night when he’d found you in the woods conjured up into his mind once more.

The smirk on Jason’s lips made Eddie want to throw up.

“Your little slut’s in good company. Andy’s taking care of her until I’m done with you.”

It felt as if someone had injected the icy water of Lover’s Lake straight into Eddie’s veins.

But before he could muster a reply, a high-pitched, blood-curdling shriek pierced the frozen air, making his gaze flit towards the woods, the first black dots against the backdrop of the dark skies illuminated by those eerie crimson flashes of lightning, before his eyes found Jason’s again.

“Listen,” Eddie tried, his voice trembling as hard as his hands, still raised in a gesture of surrender, “This thing that hurt Chrissy and Patrick and Fred Benson? It’s here. It lives here. And we’re here because we want to stop it. Make sure it won’t hurt anyone ever again. And right now, this thing – this, this demon – is sending its army of monsters right here so we need to get away from –“

“SHUT UP!” Jason’s roar came out of nowhere, making Eddie jump. “Don’t you dare say her name. Any of their names.”

Another high-pitched shriek echoed through the air, drawing closer and closer – but Eddie didn’t dare pull his gaze away from Jason again to check how close the bats already were.

He needed a distraction. He needed to get that fucking gun out of Jason’s hands, get Dustin and himself away from the roof and to you before the bats or Andy or whatever shit would happen next could hurt you, hurt any of them.

“DON’T MOVE!”, Jason hollered, and Eddie’s heart dropped to the floor a second time as he realized Jason had noticed Dustin somewhere behind Eddie.

“He’s telling the truth,” Dustin began quietly, his voice even. “Eddie didn’t hurt anyone. He’s trying to help. The demon –“

“The demon you summoned,” Jason hissed, his cold eyes locking on Eddie’s again. “You and your little cult. The boy’s in with you, right? Him and Sinclair. Your acolytes.”

“We don’t have time –“

“Dustin!”, Eddie hissed to silence Dustin, draw Jason’s attention away from the boy and back to himself as he slowly inched to the side, to put himself between the barrel of Jason’s gun and Dustin.

Time was running out.

Judging by the sound of shrieks and screeches filling the air, there were seconds left until the first of the bats would arrive at the trailer park – and minutes until the rest of the swarm drawn away from Creel House would follow suit.

“I know what you did. Sold your soul to the devil to make fires with your mind. But you know what? Fire won’t be fast enough. Not against a bullet.”

“You know what else will be faster? These things,” Eddie hissed, the shrieks filling the air growing louder by the second. But Jason didn’t budge, didn’t let his focus on Eddie falter.

“They’ll eat you alive,” Dustin breathed.

“Yeah?”, Jason sneered, taking a step closer towards Eddie, “Let them try. I got enough bullets. But the first one –“

There was a resounding click as Jason cocked the gun.

“The first one’s for you, freak.”

***

Pain. The world was ablaze with blinding, white-hot pain thumping through your skull, your ribs, charging through you with every beat of your pulse and every labored intake of breath as you fought for your muscles to obey your desperate commands to move, to somehow get the fuck up from the ground and race after Jason, terror clouding your muddled senses.

Your fingers sinking into the cold, dead ground of the Upside Down, fingernails breaking and teeth gritted with fierce determination, you dragged yourself towards the ladder, Andy’s leering chuckle sounding from behind you as he watched you struggle and fail to climb back to your feet.

There was something warm and sticky running down the side of your face – but whether it were tears or blood, you couldn’t tell. Didn’t care to tell.

There were shrieks in the distance, neither human nor animal. You didn’t need to look at the western sky to know what it was. The first bats, heralding the murderous swarm to follow suit. And the screeches were drawing closer fast.

You needed to get up.

Your hand splayed on the dead grass, and with a suppressed hiss of pain as your cracked rib protested at the movement and your skull felt like a glass vase shattering on the floor, you dragged yourself up to your feet.

“Aw, look at you, little slut,” Andy cooed. “Are you in love with the freak?”

A low wail ripped from you as Andy grabbed a fistful of your hair before yanking you backwards, against him.

“What do you see in that creep, anyways, huh?”, he crooned into your ear, his hot breath stale as it hit the side of your face, overpowering panic gripping you as Andy’s free hand clamped around your jaw, forcing your head up at the three silhouettes on the roof. Dustin, cowering on the ground behind Eddie, his hands raised – and Jason, holding Eddie at gunpoint.

“Jason’s gonna blow a bullet right into his ugly face. Send him straight down to Hell where he belongs.”

Help me, you pleaded at the darkness, but the haze clouding your senses was too strong, the spinning sensation too fast. The darkness didn’t heed your call.

Your senses were still reeling from the blow to your head, the crack in your ribs, the panic shrouding your mind in impenetrable fog as Jason’s shout rang out from the roof, the words muddled by the ringing in your ears, high-pitched and growing louder and louder.

Only that it wasn’t in your ears, but in the air.

And Andy was ripped away from you.

With his iron grip holding you upright gone, your legs gave in once more and you tumbled back into the grass as Andy’s scream rang through the night air, the crack of a gunshot ringing through the air, too loud –

But it wasn’t Jason who’d shot, you realized, momentary relief surging through you on another wave of adrenaline as you raised your head from the grass as a second gunshot sounded, like the crack of a whip, and a third, lacing with Andy’s screams.

The bats had him in a chokehold.

Right now, there were only a few of them, half a dozen in a blur of pale leathery wings, the horrors from your nightmares come to life. Andy’s bullets had missed them.

They were holding him on the ground, paper-streamer-tails wrapped around his limbs like ropes. His fist around the hilt of his gun loosened as one of the creatures wrapped its tail around his throat to silence his panicked screams, and the weapon fell from his hand, useless against the monstrous creatures, anyways.

More of them shot down from the skies, and you squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for them to get you next.

But they didn’t.

There was a muted wail of pain ripping from Andy, nearly drowned out by the cacophony of screeching and hissing.

When your eyes flew open again, it was to the gruesome image of the bats sinking teeth and talons into Andy’s chest, blood splattering – but none of the creatures attacked you.

As if they didn’t even notice you were there, helpless and struggling on the cold ground mere feet away.

Another flash of lightning zigzagged across the skies above, everything too bright, too loud, a pandemonium of noise and light and nausea.

Your eyes fell on something small, discarded in the grass.

Andy’s gun.

***

“Call them back.” Jason’s voice was barely loud enough to be heard over the screeches of the bats, over Andy Warren’s agonized, throttled wails as those…those things were eating him alive.

Eddie needed to get down there, needed to get to you, and get you and Dustin away from these things –

“I SAID CALL THEM BACK, FREAK!”

There was a streak of panic mingling with the hatred in Jason’s scream now as he waved the cocked gun at Eddie’s head, making him shrink back, still blocking Dustin from the madman’s line of vision, “CALL THESE FUCKING THINGS BACK!”

And through the daze of panic, it dawned on Eddie that Jason thought he’d been commanding them with his guitar.

“I can’t.”

“CALL THEM BACK OR I’LL BLOW YOUR FUCKING BRAINS OUT!”

Andy’s screams were growing louder, more agonized, more nauseating with every second.

Before Eddie could muster a reply, tell Jason he couldn’t…the clap of a gunshot pierced the air.

***

You couldn’t remember how you’d managed to climb back to your feet to throw yourself onto Andy’s discarded weapon, or the feeling of your fingers closing around its hilt.

But you remembered the feeling of grim determination flooding you as you’d raised the gun, aiming at the figure on the roof, the green of his letterman jacket marking the bullseye.

Never in a million years would you have thought you’d ever aim a gun at something else than a monster, at another person – but Jason was as much of a monster as the creatures devouring Andy Warren behind you, his agonized, muted wails dying down, drowning in the cacophony of screeches and the noise of flesh being ripped from his bones.

But the horror of Andy’s death cries, the hissing, screeching bats, the Upside Down…it all blurred into insignificance as you cocked the gun, your arms trembling with the remaining strength the adrenaline in your veins managed to rally.

There was not a single second of hesitation.

When your index finger settled on the trigger, your mind’s eye didn’t conjure up the memory of the look Jason had given you that September night as he’s forced his legs between yours, pressed you against the picnic table.

No.

It showed you the memory of Jason, hovering above Eddie, your songbird slumped in Andy’s grip and dark curls spilling over his shoulders to hide his bloodied face as Jason raised the crowbar, the glint of silver moonlight catching on metal.

His words, spat at Eddie.

Let’s give the Freak a taste of his own medicine. I want to see how many bones we can break before we need a new crowbar.

You pulled the trigger.

***

The shot was a miss, the bullet not even grazing Jason before it hit the amplifier behind him, a rain of sparks flying in the air as the device died with an ear-shattering screech to momentarily rival the noise of the bats on the ground, the ones drawing closer above the woods.

But it was all the diversion Eddie needed.

Jason noticed his mistake too late.

With a roar of rage ripping from Eddie, the guitar soared down, Jason’s bloodshot eyes widening as they locked on Eddie’s – and Jason grunted in surprise as the guitar knocked the gun from his grip.

The weapon clattered to the ground.

For a split second, time seemed to freeze as Eddie and Jason watched as the gun slid across the rooftop, the scraping sound of it drowned out by Andy Warren’s dying cries as the bats continued to devour him.

The shellshocked moment was broken when Eddie’s eyes met Jason’s, abysses of rage and madness staring back.

Eddie lunged towards the discarded gun, having come to a stop at the edge of the trailer’s roof – but so did Jason, throwing himself onto the weapon just as Eddie reached it, and together, they plummeted from the roof.

The impact made blinding pain bolt through Eddie as he landed on his side, right on the cracked ribs Andy Warren had left with his crowbar, the force of it muting Eddie’s pained scream as stars danced in his vision, but he couldn’t wait for the pain to ebb.

He needed to get back to his feet and get the fucking gun before Jason could, and he needed to find you.

A hiss of pain ripping from Eddie’s throat, he rolled over, onto his stomach, elbows digging into the dead grass of the lawn as, through the pain exploding in his side, he fought himself up to his feet. A wave of dizziness swept over him before he caught himself, one hand splayed against the trailer’s side to steady himself.

The first thing he saw when he blinked back the tears of pain was Andy.

Or…what was left of him.

There was a twitch running through the guy’s hand, sprawled on the ground, coated with blood, as the bats continued to consume him, the wet sounds of teeth and talons tearing through skin and muscle and tissue too loud.

Eddie felt acidic bile rise in his throat as he averted his gaze, the horrid image already burned in his mind, joining Chrissy and her broken bones in his own collection of nightmares to haunt him. He would endure them all, as long as when he woke up drenched in sweat and tears with a scream on his lips, he would only have to turn and see you slumbering peacefully next to him.

Eddie could endure whatever shit would come his way, as long as you were there beside him.

But he was too late.

Eddie’s eyes locked on yours, wide and terrified in Jason’s chokehold, the gun pressed against the side of your head, a sickening grin twisting the jock’s freckled features as his cold eyes met Eddie’s.

“Game over, freak.”

And in the sky behind Jason, the swarm of bats had reached the edge of the woods.

***

He’d been over you before your muddled mind could catch up with what was happening, kicking the gun out of your grip with ease before grabbing the weapon and dragging you off the ground, your struggle weak, movements sluggish as if you were stuck in mud.

The barrel of the gun was cold against your skin as Jason pressed the weapon against your temple now, his arm locked around your throat to keep you in a chokehold, your back pressed against his chest.

Your vision blurred, coming in and out of focus before your eyes found Eddie’s.

There were tearstains glittering on his pale cheeks, and the cut on his brow you’d mended with the fish hook had ruptured again, fresh blood running down his temple, a few stray curls sticking to the crimson rivulets as he pushed himself away from the trailer’s wall, swaying a little on his feet while his hands shot to his side as his face contorted with pain, the spot where Andy’s crowbar had hit home back at the boathouse to crack Eddie’s ribs.

“Let her go,” Eddie breathed, his eyes travelling from yours to Jason’s, wide and pleading.

Help me, you screamed once more at the darkness you’d ripped away from Vecna, reaching out to grasp it, rouse it like you’d done in the boathouse, but you couldn’t reach it through the muddled daze in your mind.

If Jason had realized what had happened to Andy, he didn’t care.

The sickening sounds of the bats feasting on what was left of Andy were swallowed by the noise of the swarm, drawing closer by the second.

They’d tear you all to ribbons – if the bats occupied with Andy’s remains didn’t tire of him to do the job before the rest of the swarm could reach you.

Eddie moved to dart towards you before Jason’s hiss made him freeze once more. “Don’t. Move. Or I’ll kill her.”

The nausea churning in your guts was overpowering at the feeling of Jason’s hot breath hitting the side of your face, the barrel of the gun pressed so hard against your temple that you could feel the bruise forming beneath the metal already.

“I followed you because I wanted to kill you, Freak. For what you did to Chrissy. But I think I got a better idea.” Jason’s grip around your throat tightened, making darkness creep in at the edges of your vision as you gasped for air. “So much better. You took Chrissy. I’ll take your little slut. It’s fair, don’t you think?”

Eddie’s umber eyes were wide with terror as they locked on yours, tears spilling from his eyes – but his face blurred beneath your own tears as Jason forced you to the ground, your knees hitting the cold dirt and pain burst through your body as his chokehold around you loosened to grab a fistful of your hair, so hard that if felt as if he’d rip your scalp clean off.

The click as he cocked the gun vibrated through your throbbing skull –

“I did it.”

At the sound of Eddie’s voice, having reached its breaking point, Jason’s grip on you stilled.

“I killed Chrissy,” Eddie repeated quietly, his panicked gaze flicking to you before it settled on Jason again, and horrid realization hit you about what Eddie was doing.

Because Jason was so caught up in his twisted vigilante fantasies, in his own version of the story painting him a tragic hero and Eddie the monstrous villain to defeat. And Eddie was giving him what he wanted, a shot in the dark to buy more time and keep Jason occupied.

“I summoned a demon and made a deal. Create fires with my mind. And in exchange, he wanted lives. He chose them, I brought them to him. Fred, Patrick. Chrissy.” Eddie’s voice was growing steady as he spoke, the skilled dungeon master taking over to weave the desperate lie. Only his hands, curled into fists at his sides in an attempt to hide the tremors running through him, betrayed his panic and despair. With a small nod at you, he breathed, “The demon wants her next. She’s under a spell.”

“A spell,” Jason echoed hollowly. “Chrissy was under a spell.”

It attested Jason’s descend into madness that he truly believed the absurd fairy tale Eddie was weaving for him.

And maybe, just maybe…it could work.

“That’s why Chrissy went with you. You put her under a spell.”

No, you wanted to hiss at Jason, Chrissy went to buy drugs because she knew you wouldn’t care enough to help her.

“Is – is she under that spell now?” Pain shot through you as Jason gave you a little nudge, his fist still in your hair to keep you from falling face-first to the ground, drawing a weak cry from you.

His jaw set with grim determination, Eddie said, “Yeah.”

“I don’t believe you. Your little slut came to the boathouse. She –“

“Do you think she’d have ever wanted anything to do with Eddie The Freak?”, Eddie spat, and your heart squeezed in your chest at his words, echoing those he’d used in the cafeteria that day when he’d faced off Jason for spreading his vile, ugly lies.

It was exactly what Jason wanted to hear.

This wasn’t about Chrissy, or even you.

It was all about Jason and his ego, his hurt pride. And it had always been.

And Eddie, clever, empathic Eddie, knew exactly how to wield Jason’s narcissism in his own favor.

It dawned on you that Eddie wasn’t trying to buy more time to figure another way to save you both.

He was trying to paint you as the damsel in distress in need of saving, playing Jason’s game, and rendering himself the villain so Jason could be the hero he saw himself as.

So Jason would let you go.

There was a beat of hesitation, of Jason’s grasp around you loosening – before it tightened once more, ripping your head back while he bent down to you, his stench of sweat mingling with the tang of blood in the air as, his breath stirring your hair, he sneered, “You love her.”

There was an incredulous, maniacal laugh bubbling from Jason’s lips. “Eddie The Freak is in love. You know what? I don’t care if she’s under a spell. You’re not. You took Chrissy. I’ll take your slut. Say bye-bye.”

It happened too fast for your muddled mind to catch up.

Eddie’s eyes widened, tensing as his hands shot out as he darted forward as if in an attempt to tackle Jason to the ground, rip him away from you before he could pull the trigger – but someone else was faster.

There was a low grunt as Jason’s grip around you vanished, and you fell to the ground, hands splaying in the cold dirt to catch your fall as you whirled around. To Dustin.

He must’ve made his way down from the roof while the rest of you had been diverted, snuck up on Jason. And with a roar, Dustin raised the branch he’d picked up from the ground, ready to swing it at Jason for a second time.

But this time, Jason saw it coming.

And he was so much stronger than Dustin.

The roar morphed into a wail of pain as Jason’s fist connected with the boy’s face before you could command your muscles to move and stop him, and Dustin slumped to the ground.

And before you could charge at Jason, he whirled around, his fist connecting with your cheek – and in a rain of stars, you fell to the ground, and the world went dark.

***

Eddie had never been violent.

He’d always been a small kid, the punching ball for the bigger kids, too weak to ever even land a blow in return until puberty had struck, and he’d shot up, becoming tall enough for his height and his metal clothes to ward off any more physical attacks.

And even now, tall as he was, he was lanky. And no matter how strong he was, he probably wasn’t strong enough to best Jason, the jock, in a fight.

But despair and adrenaline and rage, the kind of blind rage Eddie had never felt before in his life before he’d ripped Jason away from you that September night, were like his very own superpower running through his veins as he charged, his fist clamping around the collar of Jason’s letterman jacket to yank him away from you and Dustin, his free hand already curled into a fist to land the first blow.

There was a split second of grim satisfaction at the sensation of his rings slamming against Jason’s cheek, metal meeting bone as pain shot through his fist at the impact.

The feeling didn’t last.

Jason’s crazed eyes flashing with fury, he attacked.

Eddie was too slow.

Before he could duck away, Jason’s fist slammed into his broken ribs, and Eddie’s scream was muted as the air was squeezed from him at the pain searing through his body, his legs giving in as Jason crashed into him.

***

Wake up.

It wasn’t a voice, exactly.

It was a feeling, something nudging and urging you from within, black mist battling the one numbing your mind and senses as you realized the shred of Vecna’s – of your – powers had finally been roused.

And it was stronger than the ringing in your ears, the pain in your skull, the spinning carousel of your senses; a tether of steel anchoring you amidst the storm that pushed your senses like a tiny little kite.

Your eyes flew open, your vision sharpening, colors crashing back to you as your eyes locked on the sky.

It was the color of a fresh bruise, crimson flashes zigzagging across like angry welts on skin, black thunderclouds rolling in fast over the nearby woods –

No.

Not thunderclouds.

Bats.

Hundreds, thousands of creatures like the ones which were still ripping the flesh from Andy Warren’s bones at the end of the yard.

And they’d nearly reached the trailer park.

It was the final realization to make the rest of your senses snap back to reality, pierce the haze clouding your mind.

Eddie. And Dustin.

You pushed yourself up from the ground, eyes snapping up to Dustin, rolled up on his side and obviously dazed by the blow to his head.

“Dustin, can you get up?”, you pressed, clambering to your knees as your eyes scanned your surroundings for Eddie.

He was on the ground mere feet away from you, Jason on top of him, pinning him into the dirt with his own weight as Eddie struggled against the hold.

There was a swift movement as Jason drew back his fist for another punch – but the blow never followed.

Instead, there was a flash of something, glinting in the sparse light, and your heart skipped its next beat as you fought yourself to your feet, far too slow to reach Eddie in time, your body going numb with shock.

Because clutched tightly in Jason’s fist, the serrated blade glinting eerily in the half-light, was a hunting knife.

***

Eddie’s name rang through the air on your scream, your voice breaking with panic.

Reflexes taking over, Eddie’s hand shot out to stop the trajectory of Jason’s knife as it soared down towards his exposed throat, adrenaline taking the wheel.

He didn’t feel pain as his fist wrapped around the jagged blade of Jason’s hunting knife mid-air.

He didn’t even feel the blood welling up where the serrated metal was sinking into the skin of his palm, dripping down on him like warm summer rain, Jason hovering right above him, his weight pressing Eddie to the ground.

In that moment, Eddie was certain not even Vecna’s eyes could hold so much madness and evil as Jason’s did right now; glaring abysses of nothing but hatred and bloodlust, his features twisted into a crazed grimace as his other hand, the one which had been pinning Eddie’s left arm to the ground, flew up, gripping the knife’s handle with both hands as he leaned his entire weight on it now, driving it closer to Eddie’s exposed neck, inch by inch, pain now flaring from the deep gash – but if he let go now, Jason would kill him.

The tip of the serrated blade grazed Eddie’s throat, cold metal biting the skin right above his collarbone as he realized he was losing, horribly losing this fight, the dice falling on a natural one to seal his fate at the hands of Jason Carver.

Eddie’s other hand, the one not wrapped around the blade, groped at the dead grass at his side, for a stone, something, anything to use to get Jason and his knife off of him.

Eddie could feel blood welling from the cut on his neck, collecting in a little pool in the hollow above his collarbone as Jason pushed the knife further, Eddie’s strength fading, the pain searing in his palm clutching the serrated blade growing unbearable, making him scream –

“It’s funny, to see you struggle”, Jason hissed, spit dribbling from his lips.

By now, he looked more like a rabid beast than a person.

There.

Eddie’s fingers brushed against something in the grass, cool and smooth, the familiar feeling of it beneath his fingertips like discovering a friendly face in a crowd of strangers.

He didn’t need to look to know what it was. Hope flooded him as his hand wrapped around the neck of his guitar. It must have come loose when he’d tumbled from the roof.

“Just like your little slut struggled, in the woods.” Jason sneered, before a lewd smirk tucked at his lips and his voice morphed, becoming as calm as the surface of a pond. “She missed out. I would’ve made her feel so much better than you could ever have, freak.”

Eddie knew Jason had meant the words as a final stab, a final I’ve won, before his knife would slit Eddie’s throat.

But the memory Jason’s words conjured up, of you, struggling as Jason pinned you against that picnic table, his hands forcing their way underneath the hem of your cheerleader skirt right before Eddie had ripped him away from you, was what tipped the scales.

With a blazing surge of rage, Eddie swung the guitar – just as Jason was tackled off of him.

***

You didn’t remember how you’d managed to climb back to your feet, how your trembling legs had carried you across the dead grass, staggering towards Eddie and Jason.

There was only blind despair and white-hot fury fueling your movements as, with a roar of all the pent-up anger and hatred at Jason Carver, you crashed into him, tackling him off of Eddie like Eddie had ripped him away from you back in the woods that fateful September night six months ago.

The impact catapulted you to the ground alongside Jason, his contorted face a demonic mask as he used the momentum to roll on top of you, his hands closing around your throat –

***

The guitar’s strings released a distorted tone into the half-dark when Eddie slammed the instrument into the side of Jason’s head, hard enough for the impact to splinter his beloved guitar with an ugly crunching noise that reminded Eddie of the sound of Chrissy Cunningham’s bones snapping on his ceiling, and Jason was knocked off of you, slumping in the grass beside you like a limp rag.

With a silent thank you at his beloved guitar, Eddie let the pieces fall into the grass, pulling you to your feet with a swift motion as his uninjured hand came up to your cheek, his eyes finding yours, scanning you for injuries, but there was no time to check, or grasp what had just happened, or gather you up in his arms.

“WE GOTTA GO!” Dustin’s howl mingled with the noise of the swarm, of thousands of wings flapping in the air as they descended upon the Forest Hills trailer park.

There was no time to check on each other, to set the ring of gasoline on fire as initially planned to form a second barrier against the bats. The trailer’s reinforcements would have to do.

His hand gripping yours, Eddie dragged you towards the trailer.

And then the bats were there.

Ready to feast.

***

It had been Dustin’s idea to use the veranda door instead of the front door, the canopy of the roof and the metal fencing you’d fastened around to form a cage the perfect first barrier against the vicious swarm of monsters hot on your heels when Eddie slammed the fence’s door closed with the rattling of metal lacing and the furious screeches of the first bats as they slammed into the fence.

Their frustrated screeches rang in your ears as Eddie locked the fence’s door with a quick movement, jumping back before the creatures’ claws reaching through the gaps of the metal could catch him.

You jumped as one of the creatures smashed into the fence right in front of your face, and with only the fence wire between you and the beast, you stared in horror.

Up close, they looked even deadlier than in your nightmares.

Serrated claws made to slice through bone in a fellow swoop, eyeless faces opening up to a sea of razorblade-teeth, the putrid stench of rotting meat clinging to their pallid, leathery skin making your guts churn with nausea.

They weren’t beasts of prey. No, beasts of prey hunted to survive.

Those creatures…they were made to kill for the sake of killing.

Slowly.

Cruelly.

The images your mind conjured up, of those serrated, hooked claws tearing through Eddie’s skin, through muscle and sinew and bone as he screamed in agony, pinned you in place before Eddie ripped you from your trance, his gentle hands pulling you backwards into the trailer.

Another door slamming shut, another chain rattling as Eddie put the lock in place, the scrape of metal against metal barely audible against the cacophony of screeching, hissing, screaming.

The noise of the bats hailing against the door, the walls, the roof was that of a hailstorm as the three of you caught your breaths.

When you’d reinforced the trailer with the metal plates, you’d been certain it would hold.

Now you wondered if that had been a terrible miscalculation.

“Shit,” Eddie panted, breaking the shaken silence before he turned around to come face to face with Dustin and you.

Blood was splattered across his throat, dripping from a shallow cut above his collarbone and soaking the fabric of the Hellfire shirt peeking out from under the combat vest. Dirt and grass and spores had caught in the dark curls spilling from the bandana around his head, and more blood was running from the gash on his brow which had ripped open again at some point as his chest heaved with every pant as his eyes flitted from you to Dustin and back, assessing the damage.

Eddie opened his mouth to utter a reply, but he was interrupted by Dustin’s shout, “EDDIE WHAT THE FUCK?!”, making Eddie and you jump, and your heart froze in your chest as you stared at the spot on Eddie’s side Dustin was frantically pointing at.

On the polished wooden hilt of Jason’s knife lodged there.

“JESUS H CHRIST,” Eddie called out with a squeal rivalling the bat’s shrieks outside as he pulled the knife out of his side before you could protest, mind racing with panic because you should never, ever, ever take the weapon out of a stab wound because it would only further the blood loss, your hands trembling uncontrollably as Eddie let himself sink to the ground and you moved to rip open the zipper of his combat vest to assess the damage, Dustin shouts high-pitched beside you, “Holy shit! Holy shit!” –

But when you pushed the vest aside to assess the damage Jason’s knife had done beneath, there was no blood. Not a single droplet.

The three of you fell silent again, the havoc of the bats raging outside momentarily blurring against the ringing in your ears as all of you stared at the pearly white fabric of Eddie’s Hellfire shirt.

“Jesus H Christ,” Eddie whispered, one hand pressed over his heart in shock, “Holy fuck.”

“Dude,” Dustin agreed on a trembling breath.

“How –?”

“The vest,” you murmured, lifting the side of the padded fabric, the two frayed holes where the blade had gone clean through, a hair’s breadth past Eddie’s side.

“Guess you were right about pulling up the zipper, huh,” Eddie stated weakly, and you raised the broken zipper in your hand.

“I broke it.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Eddie gave you a shaken grin, “It did its job.”

Another beat of silence, before Eddie rose back to his feet, swaying a little with residual shock before his gaze travelled from Dustin to you to assess the damage, before he croaked, “Anybody hurt?”

Dustin cocked an eyebrow. “Dude. Everybody’s hurt.”

A noise made you start, something slamming against the front door with more fervor than before, and your eyes met Eddie’s.

“We need get out of here.”

“It worked,” Dustin breathed, hands coming up to his head with a wide, bewildered grin on his face, “It fucking worked!”

There was unspoken understanding crossing between Eddie and you.

Because with the noise of the bats trying to find their way into the trailer…you weren’t so sure whether you shared Dustin’s optimism.

And the dark feeling in your guts was right…somebody had to keep the bats out of the trailer and away from the gate before they could wreak havoc and bloodbath over the Rightside Up Hawkins.

It wasn’t over yet.

With a subtle nod at you, Eddie turned to Dustin. “Okay, Dustin, get your ass through the gate. See if you can reach Erica to check in with them. We’re gonna be with you in a minute.”

“What? Why?! It’s only a sprained ankle. I fell a little weird when I jumped off the roof, that’s all. I can still –“

“Dustin,” Eddie interjected, more vehemently than probably intended, his voice strained as he tried to speak over the havoc the swarm was wreaking outside, “For once, do what you’re told, ‘kay? You’re limping, for fuck’s sake. What are you gonna do if these things come in here, argue with them?!”

To your surprise, Dustin actually clamped his mouth shut and heeded Eddie’s command without another attempt to change his mind, limping over towards the makeshift rope dangling from the gate in the middle of the living room as Eddie watched him, swatting a few of the spores away from his face before he inquired gently, “You need some help, man?”

Dustin gave him a grin over his shoulder.

“How? Are you gonna yeet me to the other side?”

“If you keep that tone, I might,” Eddie snickered while he watched Dustin start climbing, before turning back to you, and all the lightheartedness left his face, the mask stripped to reveal the terror beneath, before he raised his hand to cup your cheek.

His jaw set when his umber eyes locked on the gash on your brow where Jason had slammed your head against the trailer’s wall.

“It’s just a scratch,” you murmured.

“It’s not.” Eddie’s low voice was trembling so hard it was breaking. “What else…?”

“A concussion. A few broken ribs, pretty sure” you flinched, giving him a lopsided smirk, “Now we match.”

You reached out to grab Eddie’s other hand, coated with the blood running through his fingers and dripping to the floor, and you winced as you gently pried his fist open to reveal the deep cut running through his palm as Eddie let out a pained wince of his own.

“Uh, guess I’m officially Kas The Bloody-Handed now, huh?”, Eddie announced weakly. “Though I can’t handle another fish-hook-situation.”

There was no time for stitches, anyways.

Judging by the noise of the swarm pounding down on the trailer…you needed to get ready to fight.

With a small nod, you reached for the first-aid box Eddie had deposited on the kitchen aisle when you’d all went through the gate a few hours ago.

It was so Eddie, to think of something as small yet so significant like that little first-aid box.

You swallowed against the lump in your throat as you unrolled one of the gauze strips, and Eddie watched as you started to wrap the material around his palm, as firmly as possible to staunch the bleeding.

A few seconds longer, and Jason’s knife would have cut right to the bone.

The thought of Jason falling victim to those things ripping at the trailer’s outsides held that familiar feeling of dark, grim satisfaction. This time, though, there was no guilt, no shame about it.

“Monster slayer?”

At his softspoken words, your head snapped up from the bandage, meeting Eddie’s eyes which were swimming with concern, the silent question within. Are you okay?

“Do you think he’s dead?”

Your whisper was swallowed by the noise of the bats hailing against the walls, the roof, hacking and clawing at the metal reinforcements in their search for a way inside.

But Eddie had heard you, anyways.

“I dunno,” he said gently, his uninjured hand grasping yours. Watching you, he brushed the pad of his thumb over your wrist, the soothing little gesture you’d already become so used to, “Do you want him to be?”

Jason had been unconscious, knocked out by the blow to the head with Eddie’s guitar – but the bats would do to him what they’d done to Andy. The memory of it, the wet, squelching sounds of flesh being ripped from bones, made your guts churn and bile rise in your throat. You didn’t yet know what to feel about both of their cruel demises. But after everything they’d done, would have done…you couldn’t find it in you to pity them.

Not right now.

Maybe not ever.

All that mattered right now was that Team Crit Hit would be able to kill Vecna, that your friends and Eddie were safe.

“I want him to never hurt anyone ever again,” you finally replied.

“He won’t,” Eddie soothed, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours, a moment of quiet understanding passing between the two of you, his presence a sanctuary amidst the raging storm as the tears you’d been fighting to hold back stole themselves into your eyes after all, hot against your cheeks as they ran down your face and mingled with the blood still seeping from the gash on your brow.

“He won’t hurt you again.”

Before you could muster a reply, something slammed against the front door again, with such force that the hinges gave a low groan, making you jump apart, wide gazes meeting.

In wordless understanding, the two of you jumped to grab the makeshift weapons you’d spread out on the kitchen table.

Two spears, hunting knifes strapped to sticks.

And two shields, long nails driven through the metal of trashcan lids.

They’d have to make do.

Spear at the ready, your fingers clammy as they wrapped around the handle of the trashcan-lid-shield and the last remnants of dizziness not yet having receded from your senses, you positioned yourself beside Eddie in the middle of the Munson trailer’s living room, right underneath the gate, your back pressed flush against his as you listened to the noise of the bats trying to claw their way into the trailer.

And if those serrated claws could cut through bone…

Eddie’s skin was warm against your own as he angled his hand holding the makeshift spear, his pinkie linking with yours in a silent gesture of reassurance.

“It won’t hold forever, will it?”, you breathed.

Eddie swallowed. “No. It won’t.”

You nodded, panic threatening to sweep you away all over again.

“But it doesn’t have to,” Eddie added. You couldn’t tell whether he believed the words. “Only until they burned him to a crisp.”

“Yeah.”

And as if on cue, the ear-shattering noise…

Stopped.

As if the swarm had frozen mid-movement.

In the silence which settled over the trailer, you could hear the roar of blood in your ears, the thundering of your heartbeat as it mingled with the sound of your and Eddie’s ragged breaths in the air as you listened.

Waited.

And in the silence, there was a soft flutter, travelling up the walls. Travelling up towards…

“The roof,” Eddie whispered, and you glanced over your shoulder to look at him. His head was raised, umber eyes scanning the ceiling, a single beam of light from the gate falling across his face to illuminate his profile. “They’re on the roof.”

There was another horrid realization dawning on you.

Whereas the Demodogs had hunted like…well, like animals, in a way…

The bats seemed to have a level of understanding which decidedly exceeded the wit of the Demodogs.

A scraping sound made your head snap up to a spot in the kitchen ceiling.

To the air vent above the stove.

“They can’t get in there,” you breathed. “That’s not possible.”

But even while you spoke the words…you knew it was.

The vent’s seal was pushed away from the outside, clattering to the kitchen floor with a noise that rang like the crack of a whip in the shaken silence of the Munson’s trailer.

Before you could react, tear yourself out of your panicked daze, Eddie did.

A feral roar spilled from him as he darted towards the kitchen, the first of the bats already clawing their way through the air vent – but before they could get through, Eddie slammed the spiked trashcan-lid-shield over the opening, hard enough for it to hold, sealing the vent.

With a shaken little grin, Eddie turned back to you, brushing a stray curl away from his lips. “There. Fixed it.”

“There are no other vents, are there?”, you breathed, and Eddie’s face fell the second realization hit you like a truck.

There were.

In Eddie’s bedroom.

The thought passing between the two of you, you both whirled around to dart towards Eddie’s bedroom, a weird, screeching sound ringing through the air like nails drawn across a chalkboard, as if something big from outside were tearing at the metal plates barring the windows.

The second the two of you burst through the doorway to Eddie’s bedroom, glass shattered, and the bedroom window burst into a million glittering pieces raining through the air as something big sailed through, landing on the carpet in the middle of the room.

It had ripped the metal away which had barred the window.

And as if time had frozen alongside you, Eddie and you watched in quiet horror how the thing cowering on the carpet raised its head.

It was Jason.

He looked like something which had already died and clawed its way from its grave.

Blood was spilling from a gash in his temple where Eddie’s guitar had broken the skin on impact when Eddie had knocked him off of you, and cuts were marring his face, tiny shards of broken window glass sticking out from the side of his face, his neck, like thorns from the skin of a monster.

And where his eyes should have been, bloodshot and burning with hatred…were two black holes, weeping blood.

The bats had taken his eyes.

“Please -” It was barely more than a whisper, a strangled sob, spilling from Jason’s lips.

Then, everything happened at once.

As Eddie pushed you behind him to shield you, the swarm broke through the shattered bedroom window like a deadly tsunami of fangs and talons, sweeping over Jason to drown him within. His strangled outcry was cut off amidst the pandemonium as Eddie pushed you backwards through the door, out of the bedroom, the first of the bats already flitting through the door, followed by a second one, before Eddie could slam it shut.

In the tiny hallway, there was no room to wield the spears, Eddie already trying to pull you back and place himself between you and the attacking bats as you raised your shield, readying yourself for the fight –

But the attack never came.

Just like with Andy Warren outside, the bats sailed past you, the tips of their wings brushing your cheeks like a soft caress as they pounced on Eddie, faces opening up to bare rows and rows of needle-sharp fangs, Eddie’s own shield gone, stuck to the kitchen ceiling to block the path through the air vent.

With a howl of fury, you slammed your own shield into the bats to knock them off of Eddie, your spear clattering to the ground as your other hand reached to grab one of them by the tail, ripping it away from Eddie who lashed at the second creature with his own spear, the blade driving clean through the thing’s wing to pin it against the wall as the nails of your spiked shield impaled the second one.

In perfect synchrony, you both darted towards the metal plates stored in the kitchen should any of the barriers around the trailer break so you could fix it from within, Eddie grabbing one of the corrugated sheets while you grabbed the nail gun, and the bedroom door was barred anew in a matter of seconds, just in time before the old wood could give in and tear from its hinges.

There was no time to assess your handywork, though.

“GUYS!”, Dustin’s shout from the Rightside Up rang through the gate, barely audible over the havoc the rest of the swarm was wreaking on the bedroom door.

“WE’RE BUSY!”, you shouted back as Eddie and you retreated towards the gate, remaining weapons raised – his spear and your shield, readying for the storm to come, terror gripping your senses and adrenaline flooding your veins.

Your sudden scream rang through the air as pain, searing, white-hot pain shot through your skull like a lightning bolt, your shield clattering to the ground as your hands flew up to press against the sides of your head because you feared the bone might shatter like Eddie’s bedroom window if you didn’t.

Pictures flooded your mind, images of Nancy and Robin and Steve, tied to the walls by tar-black creepers wrapping around their limbs, their throats, like mice in the hold of constrictor snakes, throttling them as they struggled against their force, bound and helpless.

Memories. No, not memories.

It was happening.

Right now.

Your name rang through the air on Eddie’s desperate shout, and the pictures stopped, Eddie’s face coming into focus as he knelt in front of you on the ground, his hands folded over yours.

“We’re losing,” you whispered.

“What? What are you-”

“He’ll kill them,” you sobbed, “He’ll kill them all.”

“No,” Eddie breathed, “No, listen – he’s –“

“I SAW IT!”, you cried. “I – images from the hivemind. He’s killing them right now.”

“Monster slayer, listen to me –“

Scrambling back to your feet, “I need to help them.”

“Wait a second –“

“There is no second, Eddie!”

“LISTEN TO ME, GODDAMNIT!”, Eddie shouted, his hands settling on your shoulders with a gentleness so opposed to his raised voice, his eyes pleading as they locked on yours. “Sweetheart, please, think. He shows you what he wants you to see. That’s what he does! He’s a master-manipulator –“

“She’s right.”

Dustin’s voice, trembling with panic as it floated through the gate, made your heads snap up towards him, standing beneath the gate on the Rightside Up, his walkie in his hand.

“Erica called. Things escalated. There – Chance and a few of Jason’s friends attacked them. At Creel House. They’re gone now, but…they broke the Walkman.”

Max’s only chance to get out of the trance.

Your eyes locked on Eddie’s.

“It’s real,” you whispered. “I can go out there.”

“The bats –“

“They won’t hurt me. They didn’t attack. I don’t know why but they stayed away from me when they attacked Andy, and they stayed away right now when they attacked you. You saw it yourself. It’s…it’s like they don’t even see me. They won’t hurt me. It’s…it’s logical, I’m carrying a part of their hive. They think I’m with them.”

You bent down, grabbing the remaining spiked shield from the floor. “I need to save them.”

“I know”, Eddie breathed, voice shattering as tears streamed down his face. You barely heard the words over the noise of the swarm still trying to get through the bedroom door. “I’m coming with you.”

“No. No, you need to stay here. With Dustin. Go through the gate. Go to Fred’s gate. I’ll meet you there. We’ll all meet you there. Okay?”

“But –“

“Eddie,” you pleaded. “Please. Please, listen to me. Go through the gate. Promise me you’ll go through the gate. Promise me you’ll get Dustin and run.”

There was a split second of hesitation, Eddie’s eyes scanning yours, before his hand came up to cradle your cheek and his lips crashed on yours in a final, desperate kiss filled with all the things there was no time left to say.

I love you. Promise this is not good-bye. Promise you’ll come back to me.

Your fingertips brushed over your green silk ribbon tied around Eddie’s wrist. Your lucky charm.

Pulling away from the kiss, you gently placed the spiked makeshift-shield in Eddie’s uninjured hand.

He wasn’t one for spears or swords.

He’d always been someone who protected instead of attacked.

You hoped he’d realized it made him as heroic and brave as a person could ever be.

“See you on the other side, monster slayer”, Eddie breathed.

And with a last glance at Eddie, his beautiful umber eyes shining with terror as he watched you go, you turned and raced out of the trailer.

***

Seconds bled into minutes.

One minute into two, into three.

The blood still gushing from the cut in Eddie’s hand was starting to soak through the gauze you’d wrapped around his palm, staining the bedsheets tied together to the makeshift rope as his fist tightened around the fabric, his uninjured hand clamped around the trashcan-shield’s handle.

There was the noise of the bats trying to get through the barred door of his bedroom, of Dustin frantically calling for Lucas and Erica on his RT, the silence on the other side, all of it blurring into white noise as Eddie’s mind was reeling.

There was something wrong.

Something he couldn’t quite pinpoint, gnawing at the back of his mind.

A thought lost in the fog of adrenaline and terror about everything that had happened, the horrors of Andy and Jason’s gory demise, and above all, the terror of knowing you were in danger.

While he was staying behind.

Again.

Not quite running again, but not fighting, either, no matter how hard he’d already fought, how he’d proven that maybe he wasn’t that guy anymore who ran as soon as danger arose.

But helpless, because he couldn’t be with you.

Because you were right; the bats didn’t touch you and if he’d went with you, the monsters would have killed him in a matter of minutes, shredded him to ribbons like they’d done with Andy and Jason.

It still broke Eddie to know you were facing this final battle on your own.

***

You wouldn’t have had to worry about the bats entering the trailer as you left, you realized as you slipped through the door.

Most of the swarm were still in Eddie’s bedroom, trying to get to the gate in the living room.

Trying to get to Eddie who, by now, would have made true of his promise and climbed through the gate, back to Dustin and the safety of the Rightside Up and on his way to the designated meeting point at Fred’s gate you’d all agreed upon.

Out of the danger zone.

And the rest of the bats which were clawing at the trailer’s walls, the roof, the fencing you left behind as you sprinted down the path to the road leading past the trailer park…they’d noticed you, but didn’t react.

As if you were one of them.

The part you’d stolen from Vecna protected you, once again helping to save those you loved.

Amidst the panic, there was gratitude for that darkness.

You weren’t alone.

Your breath forming little clouds in the toxic, freezing air of the Upside Down, legs burning and lungs on fire while your head felt as if it were being split apart by a drill from within, you raced into the woods lining the street.

Fog was crawling over the dead leaves on the ground, crawling up the naked trees like Vecna’s creeping vines as it grew thicker with every second, your panting filling the eerie silence of this place.

Frozen in time, like Sleeping Beauty’s cursed kingdom.

Your body was screaming in pain, but you were propelled forwards by the image of Robin, Nancy and Steve tied up, choking beneath the force of the black vines pinning them to the walls of Creel House, a horrid mirror image of Vecna’s lair, the lost, broken souls pinned to their pillars like dead butterflies, the colors gone from their once vibrant wings, muted and dull and stripped of everything they’d once been.

Eddie was safe for now, and so was Dustin.

And you begged all the higher powers that might listen to let your legs carry you fast enough to save Max and the rest of your friends.

This time as the pictures forced their way into your mind, making your body go numb as if you’d been plunged into a freezing lake, it knocked you off your feet.

The floor tilted as you tumbled into the dead grass, the blinding headache making you hiss in pain as it felt like your skull was split open so the images could pounce on your mind like the bats on the Munson trailer.

Of Max, suspended in the air like a fragile little puppet on its strings, her hair the color of flames in the dim blue light of the camping lantern barely able to keep the darkness in the attic of Creel House at bay.

Her eyes were white, rolled back in her head, lips parted with a muted scream.

And her bones…her bones started snapping.

Her fingers. One by one.

Her left arm, the sound resounding through your skull, like the sound of twigs being snapped in two. Then the right one.

Her legs.

You’d seen what had happened to poor Patrick, had seen Chrissy’s broken body.

But Max, who’d endured so much, the fierce girl with fire in her hair and fire in her heart, brave in the face of danger, who’d outrun the monster already…

It couldn’t be happening. It was a trick. Vecna was in your mind, tricking you once again, another trance to stop you because if the bats knew you’d left the trailer, so did he, of course he did.

Blood started running down her cheeks in crimson rivulets, so bright against her pale, freckled face.

As vibrant and bright as the life fading from her.

You could feel it, draining away like water down a tub.

No, not draining away…

Sucked out of her.

No. No, this isn’t real, not real, not real –

Before you could scream her name, the vision stopped and you rolled onto your back, ringing for air.

[FIFTEEN MINUTES TO MIDNIGHT.]

Eddie knew something bad had happened. He felt it in every fiber of his being, as the noise of the bats wreaking havoc on the blocked door to his bedroom, the walls and roof…stopped.

The pandemonium of wings beating against the outside of the trailer, of blood-curdling screams and hissing filling the air and of talons scratching and tearing at the metal plates reinforcing the tailer’s outside…it all stopped.

Deadly silence fell over the place, broken only by Eddie’s labored breaths, the wild thumping of his heart against his broken ribs.

The bats…the bats were leaving.

And the feeling which had been gnawing at the back of Eddie’s mind hit him like a speeding truck.

Realization, the final piece of the puzzle falling into place.

You’d connected the dots – but you’d all connected them so horribly, horribly wrong.

The bats hadn’t attacked you, yes. But not because they’d recognized the part of Vecna’s powers you’d stolen, marking you as part of the hive.

No.

It had been a trap all along.

To lure you to Creel House, to his lair, trying to save your friends.

Vecna wanted to hurt you.

His monster slayer had run straight into Vecna’s waiting arms.

And his bats, those horrid creatures…they were leaving to follow.

To tear you and the rest of your friends to ribbons, just like he’d done with Andy and Jason.

But Eddie wouldn’t let them.

***

As you rolled over to scramble back to your feet, the seconds draining away like your friend’s lives in the creepers’ chokehold, Max’s life in Vecna’s, thunder rumbled through the air, louder than any storm you’d ever heard.

Only it wasn’t thunder.

The ground was moving.

And even before the ground split open, Creel House Cracking apart like the shell of an egg, you knew it hadn’t been a warning, or a threat.

What Vecna had shown you had been real.

You were too late.

And Max, clever, fierce, sarcastic Max who never let anything get her down, who never hesitated to fight tooth and claw for those she loved…

Max was dead.

[TEN MINUTES TO MIDNIGHT.]

In Little River, Louisiana, there sometimes had been hurricanes.

They’d went on for days, and when they’d moved on, there had of the Little River trailer park.

It had happened twice, as far as Eddie could remember.

He also remembered that feeling, when the noise of the wind and rain against the sides of the community shelter they’d had to seek refuge in had stopped, and they’d all stepped outside and the air had felt…calm. Clean and peaceful, in that odd way it did after a storm.

Eddie felt like that right now, with all of the panic which had dazed his mind only moments before just fading away, making room for a strange serenity.

“EDDIE WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?!”, Dustin shouted through the gate, and Eddie’s eyes flitted up to meet the boy’s blue ones, wide with panic, his cheeks wet with tears.

They stared at each other. Rightside Up and Upside Down, frozen in their place for a single shared heartbeat like two ships passing in the night.

Eddie knew he would never reach Creel House in time in to help you fend off the bats, and even if he did – those things couldn’t be fought. There were too many of them.

Except…he didn’t have to.

Because Vecna wanted him. He wanted to kill Eddie to hurt you – and if Vecna was as petty as Eddie hoped he was…revenge would be the first box to tick off his to-do list.

All Eddie had to do was cause some havoc. Lure the bats away from you and your friends and back to him.

And run.

Because every second he’d manage to run to divert the bats and Vecna was time for you and the rest of the party to escape, to potentially kill the monster.

And if there was one thing he could do better even than play the guitar, Eddie figured, it was running.

Maybe this was why he’d been running all his life.

Running away from everything, not knowing that he was running to you.

Running away all his goddamn life so in the end, he would be able to run now and buy you more time.

“EDDIE COME ON!”

“Go to Fred’s gate.”

“What?!”

There was no time.

Eddie bent down to grab the makeshift spear discarded on the ground, his heart racing with the knowledge of what he was about to do.

“EDDIE!”, Dustin screamed as Eddie raised the spear.

The blade caught the crimson glow of the gate as it whirred through the air.

“EDDIE, NO!”

The makeshift rope fluttered to the ground on both sides of the gate, the bridge between worlds severed. Eddie could only hope it was enough to keep Dustin out of the Upside Down.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

What Eddie had always done from the moment he’d met you in the woods, what he’d wanted to do from the second he’d ripped Jason away from you.

“Keeping her safe,” Eddie replied softly, his eyes meeting Dustin’s. “Go to Fred’s gate. Wait for the others. I’ll meet you there.”

They both knew it was a lie.

“No. No, you promised her you’d go through the gate.”

“Yeah, I did.”

It was funny, how history repeated itself in the smallest ways.

Only days ago, Eddie had watched Nancy jump into Lover’s Lake after Steve, her bravery bordering on recklessness.

As unambiguous a sign of true love as those cynical eyes have ever seen.

He’d always understood why Nancy had done it. He’d known that he’d have done the same for you. No hesitation.

Eddie would have dived right into that cold, dark lake for the sliver of a chance to save you.

And that’s what he was doing now.

His eyes fell on the green silk ribbon you’d tied around his wrist only hours ago in the calm before the storm. It felt like an entire fucking lifetime ago.

He’d been so certain he’d never break a promise he made for you.

Eddie gave Dustin a sad little smile.

Goodbye, Dustin Henderson. Look after those lost little sheepies for me, ‘kay?

Eddie didn’t need to say the words.

He knew Dustin, the boy who, at some point along the way, had stopped being a friend to become a little brother to Eddie, understood.

And with the spear and shield in his hands, Eddie raced out of the trailer.

Onto the battlefield.

***

Max is dead.

Max is dead.

Max is dead.

Before you could react, let the realization settle in, you felt it.

Pain.

Not yours but Vecna’s.

***

The Warlock guitar lay broken on the ground, two parts dangling from the strings.

But Eddie didn’t need a guitar to divert the bats.

There were a million other ways to draw them in – make Vecna sic them upon him.

With a howl of rage, Eddie drove the tip of the spear down, into one of the black creepers running through this eerie realm like blood vessels, covering the dead grass at his feet.

“THAT’S WHAT YOU WANTED, RIGHT?! I’M RIGHT HERE!”

The thing hissed, an eerie sound amidst the quietness, as Eddie pierced the spear through the slick black thing for a second time, the bats nowhere to be seen in the skies.

“I’M HERE, YOU SON OF A BITCH!” His voice echoed across the trailer park’s mirror image as he kept attacking the creepers on the ground. “I’M HERE YOU FUCKER! COME AND GET ME! YOU WANT ME, DON’T YA?! I’M –“

The words were cut off as something wrapped around Eddie’s ankles.

And pulled.

The impact as he slammed into the ground momentarily knocked the wind from his lungs, pain bolting through his cracked ribs as he struggled to get back on his feet, realizing that he couldn’t.

The creepers.

The creepers on the ground had grabbed his ankles, chaining him to the ground.

Eddie lashed at them with the blade of his spear, cutting and slashing while they slithered up his legs, faster and faster, panic rising in his chest – as his eyes locked on the tree line right across the street, the wood surrounding the Forest Hills trailer park.

The naked trees looked…wrong.

Movement travelled through them, all along the edge of the woods.

The horrid realization had hit Eddie that it had been a trap.

The bats weren’t in the sky.

And they’d never left.

They’d hidden in the trees at the edge of the woods, waiting for him to take the bait in his blind, all-consuming fear for you.

A thousand eyeless faces swiveled in his direction as the swarm broke away from the trees.

Panic was clawing its way up his chest as Eddie frantically hacked away at the creepers pinning him to the ground, hard enough for the strings tying the knife to the staff to come loose.

There was no time. He grabbed the knife, the gash on his palm ripping open again, blood pooling through the already soaked gauze and running down his hand in wet rivulets as Eddie drove the knife into the writhing black substance of the creepers again and again, hacking them away piece by piece, too slow.

They fell away, their hissing sounds swallowed by the cacophony of the swarm of bats soaring across the street and towards him.

A tidal wave of wings, of talons and teeth.

Before Eddie could scramble back to his feet, it reached him.

And swallowed him whole.

***

Images were pelting on your mind in rapid-fire frequency.

Robin and Steve, throwing Molotov cocktails.

Nancy, cocking her shotgun as the stench of burning, rotten flesh filled the air, Vecna’s roars of pain.

And then, you felt them.

Hundreds, thousands of…of beings, neurons in a network.

Wasps in a hive.

A thousand consciousnesses becoming one.

The swarm of bats.

Having bided their time.

Waiting, hiding in the trees.

And then, they weren’t hiding anymore.

They were attacking.

Eddie had been right.

It had been a trap.

And you’d both fallen for it.

“I’ll take your songbird. I’ll break him, bone by bone. And when I’m done, I’ll shatter his mind the way you shattered his heart, little thief. And maybe then…I’ll put him out of his misery.”

That was why the bats hadn’t attacked you.

Because their master had held them back.

And once again, you’d been stupid enough to fall for his tricks.

No. No, no, no –

With Eddie’s name ripping from you in a broken, desperate scream, you raced down the hill.

Into the woods.

Towards the trailer park.

But even then, you knew you were too late.

***

They were upon him.

A maelstrom, trapping him in their midst, a pandemonium of wings slapping his face, talons reaching for him, as, with a scream of fury and despair, Eddie grabbed the shield from the ground, slamming it into the nearest of those creatures in an attempt to keep them away, keep them at bay.

But there was no way he could.

There were thousands of them.

Their movement made the world around him tilt with vertigo as he leashed out with the knife, the tails of one of those creatures already wrapping around his wrist mid-movement to restrain him, and Eddie screamed as they ripped him to the ground, the bones in his wrist crushed beneath the creatures tail as more of them pounced down.

Tails wrapped around his other wrist, his ankles, pinning him to the cold ground, writhing and struggling and helpless as pain took over and his vision blurred with his tears.

And then, the rest of the swarm hailed down on him.

 [MIDNIGHT.]

The scene unfolding in front of you when you broke out of the woods, Eddie’s name carried through the air on your broken scream, was one you’d seen before.

So many times. Night after sweat-drenched, tear-soaked night.

In your nightmares, though, Eddie had screamed. Battle cries fusing into dying ones.

Nothing like the horrible silence pressing in from all sides as you raced across the road, down the gravel to the Munson trailer.

They made room for you, the sea of wings and teeth and talons parting for you.

Of course they did.

That’s what Vecna had always promised you.

To take Eddie. Making him pay for what you’d stolen, knowing that nothing would ever be able to break you like losing Eddie could.

It was only logical to grant you the front seat as he did it.

“EDDIE!” The scream shattered as you let yourself fall to the ground beside him, the last of the bats letting go of him and darting into the air before you could rip them away, your knees hitting the dead grass, wet with rain –

No, not rain.

There was no rain in the Upside Down.

It was blood, Eddie’s blood, soaking the dead grass. Soaking his Hellfire shirt, blossoms of red unfurling on the white fabric where the combat vest was glaring open because you’d ripped away the zipper only moments before everything had went to hell.

The bats had fallen silent, locking you in this moment as they drew their circles in the air around the two of you, keeping you at the eye of the storm.

The sound of your name leaving Eddie’s lips was the ghost of a whisper as his umber eyes found yours.

“Eddie. It’s – it’s okay, I’m here. I’m here.” Your hands pressed over the wounds on his chest in a desperate attempt to staunch the bleeding, stop the flow of blood that was pooling beneath your palms, running through your fingers, warm and bright, the life draining out of him too fast. “We’ll get you out of here, okay? You need to hold on, Eddie. You gotta hold on because we can get you out of here, patch you up like – like at Skull Rock, okay? We’ll –“ Your words were cut off with the sobs you were trying so hard to suppress for his sake.

“Gonna need…a lot of fish hooks,” Eddie pressed, his voice so weak, but his lips curved into the ghost of one of his radiant sunshine-smiles like always when he tried to make you laugh, set you at ease.

No fish hook in the world could mend those wounds.

You both knew it.

You both knew this was the end.

With a sob ripping from you, you shuffled closer, gently cradling the back of his head as your other hand brushed away a few stray curls from where they’d stuck to the blood seeping from the bite wound on his cheek.

Eddie’s eyes, those beautiful umber eyes, were glittering with the tears spilling down his face, mirroring the ones you so desperately tried to hold back for his sake.

“’M sorry,” Eddie breathed. His voice was frail, crumbling away beneath the agony of his wounds, “’m sorry I broke my promise. I thought –“

“I know,” you breathed, softly shushing him. “I know. It’s okay, Eddie. It’s fine.”

Nothing would ever be okay again.

You gently reached out with your free hand, catching the tears that were running down Eddie’s face, the pad of your thumb caressing his cheek as, his eyes firmly locked on yours instead of the swarm swirling around you in the air, Eddie whispered, “Did we win?”

No. No, you didn’t.

Max was dead.

And you could feel Vecna’s presence even now, a dark shadow eclipsing everything in this realm. His wrath, the pain of whatever wounds Nancy and the others had managed to inflict on him, yet not enough to kill.

“Yes,” you breathed, forcing a smile on your lips to carry the lie, “Yes, we did. We won. Nancy landed the Crit Hit. They’re all okay.”

The smile of relief on Eddie’s lips broke you into a thousand pieces, before it turned sad. So deeply sad. “’M sorry I’m not gonna be there to take you to prom.”

“Eddie –“, you sobbed.

“Promise me…promise me you’ll graduate,” Eddie breathed. “Promise me you’ll…go to the beach. Live your life, ‘kay? Be happy.”

You would never be again.

Not without him. Not without Eddie, because Eddie was your happiness. He was your sun to light the day and the moon to illuminate the night and the stars to guide you through the dark.

And all of this light…it was dying. Fading away.

When it was left, there would only be darkness left.

An eternal void, right inside of your chest.

“You need…you need to promise me, monster slayer,” Eddie choked, his eyes pleading as he forced out the words. You could see how much it pained him to speak.

“Eddie –“

“Promise you’ll be happy again. Promise you’ll never lose that…that beautiful laugh of yours, ‘kay?”

There were no words. You couldn’t talk, couldn’t breathe, your world ending yet the one you were in kept spinning as you forced yourself to nod, forced the tears away because if they started falling, they’d blur your vision and you couldn’t let that happen because you wanted to see Eddie, wanted to see the radiance of the soft smile he gave you despite the agony he must have been in; wanted to see the light in his beautiful umber eyes before it would forever be snuffed out.

“I need…to hear it, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you choked out. It wasn’t a lie, not exactly. Because you wouldn’t lose your laugh.

Eddie would take it with him wherever he was going now, into the place where you couldn’t follow no matter how much you wished you could.

The lyrics of Max’s song came to your mind.

If I only could make a deal with god, and get him to swap our places…

You would. Without a second of hesitation.

But there was no god in this realm filled with horrors.

Only Vecna.

And Vecna didn’t make deals.

He only took.

“I love you-hoo, monster slayer,” Eddie whispered, blinking against his tears. “It’s always been you.”

The words faded into the air, barely more than a susurration. Soft like a spring breeze.

And the light, this radiant light in Eddie’s beautiful umber eyes, all the sparks and life which had been there, so vibrant…it was snuffed out.

Just like that.

You wanted to catch it like fireflies in the summer night’s air, trap it in a glass and put it back into Eddie’s eyes.

But you couldn’t bring it back.

There was no power in the world that could.

What stayed behind was the tenderness with which Eddie had always gazed at you, the ghost of his soft sunshine-smiles on his lips as if even his final breaths, so happy that you were with him, joy had won over the agony of his wounds, the terror of death.

But Eddie…Eddie was gone.

Vecna had made true of his promise.

He’d taken the most precious thing away from you after all.

He’d taken away your songbird.

He’d taken Eddie from you.

The scream which had been locked within your chest ripped free.

Of agony and loss and rage, clawing at you, ripping out of you from deep within, from the spot where you could feel something break.

Shatter.

Irreversibly, into so many pieces, that you would never be able to mend them, breaking and breaking until they were too small to break any further.

Like sand was made.

Maybe your heart would turn into a beach, to contain the ocean of darkness which spread through you, numbing your body as you keeled over, your face pressed into the crook of Eddie’s neck, his soft curls tickling your cheeks. The warmth had not yet started to fade from his skin, his scent of soap and chocolate and the faint traces of cigarettes still clinging to him beneath the metallic tang of blood.

“I love you, too,” you choked out, nuzzling your face against the side of his neck, the angry red marks the tails of the bats had left there, before you placed the softest of kisses on his lips. “I will always, always love you, Eddie Munson.”

You curled up on the hard ground, Eddie’s blood on the grass as cold now as the rest of this dark realm, and rested your head on his chest, above the spot where his heart had fluttered so beautifully against your palm only hours before.

Your favorite tune in the world, silenced forever.

You stayed like this. Curled up against Eddie’s side, your head resting on his chest, sobs ripping through you as the bats kept drawing their circles around the two of you, the flutter of their wings filling the air with soft rustles as the spores drifted all around you like fresh snow, settling in Eddie’s curls, in your lashes, on your cheeks.

You waited for them to cover you whole.

Find their way into your lungs and suffocate you like this grief was, this all-consuming grief tearing you apart.

To make it all stop.

To let you follow to wherever Eddie had gone.

***

Death, stories had taught Eddie, was supposed to be gentle.

It was supposed to be a warm, dark current to immerse him, make the agony of his wounds stop – but how could it ever be gentle and peaceful knowing that he’d leave his monster slayer behind in this horrible, freezing dark realm? How could it be peaceful when Eddie knew the girl he loved more even than he loved music and stories would stay behind, after going through so much already, left alone to weep over his body in this horrible place full of monsters?

I’m sorry. Eddie’s fingers found your green ribbon tied around his wrist; the silk soft beneath his fingertips. It was still there.

I will always, always come back to you, monster slayer. I promise.

The second promise he’d broken.

I’m so sorry, sweetheart.

When Eddie’s eyes fluttered open, there was only darkness. All around him.

The kind of darkness that was eternal, stretching on and on and on.

A void.

And Eddie was…afloat?

No, not afloat.

There was water, covering the ground all around him, but it didn’t soak him. He didn’t feel it.

He didn’t feel anything.

The agony of his wounds was gone – and so were the wounds, he realized as his hands shot out to his face, his chest.

“What the –“

The whisper travelled through the air, filling the silence of this place, mingling with the soft sloshing sound of the water beneath him as he rolled to his side, hackles raising.

There was something else there. In the darkness with him.

He could feel it, a looming presence.

Watching him.

He climbed back to his feet, the water at his feet gurgling happily, its echo floating through the eerie silence of this void.

And when Eddie turned around…

Something had changed.

There was a table, amidst the darkness, its legs sinking into the water.

A single, large table, like those in the Hawkins High cafeteria.

And on the table…

“What the fuck,” Eddie whispered, grasping one of the little figurines placed on the tabletop to examine it – just as a movement made his head snap up and his attention zone in on the figure at the head of the table, rising from a lonely chair, behind a black-and-silver dungeon master’s screen positioned there.

Eddie’s dungeon master screen, he realized, the doodle of the skull with the flash of lightning and the bat wings staring back at him from where he’d taped it to the plastic years ago. It had been the first draft of the Hellfire Club logo.

And the face surfacing from behind the screen, the lonely figure rising from the throne at the table’s head…

It was a little boy.

Seven, maybe eight years old, with the most unsettling eyes Eddie had ever seen.

The vibrant blue of blooming forget-me-nots dotting the sides of hiking trails in the woods around Lover’s Lake come summer.

A dark premonition or an educated guess, but…Eddie knew who the little boy was.

“Hello, Edward.”

Eddie flinched at the sound of that name, placing the little figurine of the Mind Flayer back on the table in front of him, watching the boy tilt his head with a quirk of his lips, the ghost of a devious smirk that was so weirdly out of place on the child’s serene little face.

The boy’s arm shot out as he tossed something, and Eddie caught it mid-air, something small and hard. Like a pebble stone.

When he opened his palm to assess what it was he’d just caught, Eddie’s eyes widened.

Resting in his palm was a crimson D&D dice.

“Will you play a game with me, Eddie?”, Henry Creel asked.

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟓

------

I SWEAR ON DUSTIN’S MOTHER THERE WILL BE A HAPPY ENDING NEXT CHAPTER! Thank you so much for reading, for commenting and reblogging and sending all the lovely asks about this series. Thank you for sticking with me for fourteen chapters - here’s to the final one yet to come; I hope to have it ready for the weekend. Love ya 🖤

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fix it fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things 4 fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things x you #joe quinn

[star--joy]

For the ask game, "Can you squeeze us in somewhere?" with Gilmore/Vax/Kiki? :D

This is just pure fluff. Absolutely tooth-rotting sweetness. I love this pairing.

Just to specify, Gilmore and Keyleth are in a queerplatonic relationship in basically everything I write, and they both date Vax.

Prompt list: vexahlia-de-rolo.tumblr.com/post/703716707800367104

-

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: None

Words: 828

Originally posted: 12/15/22

Ao3 link: archiveofourown.org/works/43638363

Gilmore is in the process of standing from his desk to close up shop when he hears a customer come in, the bell to his store dinging clearly.

He presses his lips together. Today has already left him behind schedule, and technically, Gilmore’s Glorious Goods closed three minutes ago. A customer is, for the first time, the last thing he wants.

Still, it’d be bad for business to turn away someone with coin.

Plastering a wide grin on his face, Gilmore peeks out of his office and into the main store. “Welcome, wonderful customer, to Gilmore’s Glori—” he cuts himself of as his eyes land on the forms of Vax and Keyleth, sheepishly hesitating by the entrance. “Oh, thank the gods. I did not want to deal with more customers today.”

Vax smiles, pulling Keyleth further inside. They’re still in adventuring gear, messy with dirt and sweat, but they don’t look injured, much to Gilmore’s relief. He can deny it all he wants, but his beloveds getting hurt always pushes him into a bit of a panic. “Who says we’re not here to buy, Shaun?” Vax asks. It doesn’t go unnoticed that an exhaustion hides behind his playful tone. Their latest adventure, which they’re back from a day early, must have taken a lot of energy.

“Call it a boyfriend’s intuition,” Gilmore chuckles, pulling him in for a kiss. Vax melts under the attention.

“It’s bad business to send a customer away empty-handed,” Keyleth quips. “Also, hi Gil.”

Without fully leaving Vax’s embrace, Gilmore holds out an arm so Keyleth can press herself into his side, almost dumping her weight on him. It’s alright; his back can take a bit of discomfort. “You two are much more than customers.”

“Well, we do require a bit of attention. Do you have any in stock?” Vax hums, nuzzling his face into Gilmore’s neck.

“I certainly do, my dears.” With a bit of magic, he turns the sign for his store around to display the ‘closed’ side. 

“Can you squeeze us in somewhere, then? I know you have a busy schedule.” Vax presses a kiss to his shoulder along with the words.

Gilmore laughs. “Believe me, you are a welcome distraction from all my work. Come, let’s get you into something more comfortable.” He moves to guide them upstairs, causing Keyleth to startle awake. She’d begun to doze off leaning against him.

“Huhwazit?” she mumbles, rubbing her bleary vision away. “M’tired.”

“I can see that,” Gilmore agrees, kissing her vibrant red hair, tangled and frizzy from hard work. She smiles, returning the favor with a blind press of her lips to his forehead.

Vax chuckles. He’s more awake, if only slightly. “We’re going to bed, Kiki.”

“M’kay,” she agrees, stumbling in the direction of the stairs that lead into the apartment section of Gilmore’s store. Vax doesn’t let her get far, swooping the druid off her feet so he can cradle her to his chest and carry her the rest of the way. Gilmore can tell he almost throws his back out with the act, but he has no right to criticize when he does that very thing, occasionally.

Together, they make their way to their shared apartment. Vax is quick to drop Keyleth on the bed and then collapse in after her, a long groan leaving him. “Gods, I’ve missed your bed, Shaun.”

Keyleth makes a noise of agreement, burrowing under the heaps of blankets.

“It’s missed you, too,” Gilmore says. “As have I.”

Vax smiles, shimmying further into the warm covers. “Mh hm. Always miss you. Come here.”

“Let’s get you out of this armor, first,” Gilmore hums, undoing Vax’s many buckles and buttons and clasps and why the fuck does he need so many things? The half-elf tries to help where he can, but his tired, clumsy fingers hinder more than assist. “Let me take care of you, little bird.”

And Vax lets him, too tired to really do anything else. In a few minutes, Gilmore has wrapped him in a fuzzy robe and properly tucked the sheets up to cover all of him.

Then he moves onto Keyleth, already fast asleep. At least she doesn’t wear so much armor. It’s easy to work her out of her dirty, sweat-soaked dress and into some pajamas. She barely even stirs as he does it.

“Now will you join us?” Vax hums, surprising Gilmore. He hadn’t realised the rogue was still awake. 

He grins, shirking off his robes and throwing on a sleep shirt. “Of course. Would you like to tell me about whatever’s got you so exhausted?”

Vax scoots aside to let Gilmore into the bed, settling into his usual position of spooning his body around Keyleth’s. She makes a happy little hum. “Tomorrow. Big story. You’ll love it. Sleep, now.”

Laughing, Gilmore tucks Vax in his embrace. “Alright, pretty bird. Get some rest.”

In just seconds, Vax has done just that, and Gilmore follows not long after him.

#Vax #Vax'ildan #Critical Role #Keyleth #Shaun Gilmore #Vaxmore #Vaxleth #crit role #critical role fic #crit roll fic #Critical role fanfic #Crit role fanfic #Critical Role Fanfiction #Crit role fanfiction

[lizzybeth1986]

Hindsight is 20/20

Book: The Royal Romance (with references to Desire and Decorum)

Characters: Hana Lee & Peter Foredale (OC) (platonic), Hana Lee x Kiara Theron. References to Annabelle x MC from D&D.

Rating: PG

Word Count: 5000+ words

Summary: Hana and Kiara travel to England...after recieving a letter from Hana's former fiancè. Hana explores her journey as a bi woman in a walk down memory lane.

A/N1: This takes place three years after the events of TRR3. Hana and Kiara are married and have an 8-month old child at this point. Peter Foredale in this universe is both the "Lord Peter" Hana mentioned in TRR1 (who was engaged to her then broke the match) and the current head of Countess Florence Foredale's (my D&D MC) estate, Edgewater. Faceclaims here.

Tagging @choicesficwriterscreations for FoTW and @choicespride for National Coming Out Day (Thursday).

"Ready, darling?"

Hana nods mutely. She is, after all, ready in all the ways Mother wanted her to be. Face serene, back straight, gown resplendent.

You look like a vision, the dressmaker gushed a while ago when she saw the results of her handiwork, I cannot wait to see the look on Viscount Foredale's face when he sees you!

Inside the satin gloves, her hands begin to tremble.

Viscount Peter Foredale. Gentleman. Up-and-coming barrister. A regular on the magazine spreads. The most eligible bachelor in all of England. Most of all...a wonderful, kind friend.

And after tonight...her future husband.

Her stomach tightens in a sick lurch.

--

"Doing okay?" Kiara asks her wife, running a thumb gently over their daughter's left cheek. Her other hand settles at the small of Hana's back, tracing soothing circles. The child shifts her attention from the pearl button she's been chewing, to coo at Mama Kiki's touch.

"Yeah... she's fine," Hana replies, her voice grainy with fatigue. "Put her in any sort of moving vehicle, and she's the world's happiest baby."

Kiara releases a laugh from pursed lips. There is nothing their 8-month-old loves more than being carried around; if you try to sit down, even for a minute, she will bash her hands against your chest and moan for you to get up and move around again.

Her eyes, however, never leave Hana's face - not the downturned lips, not the concealer-masked dark shadows under her eyes.

"I wasn't talking about Chaima," she says quietly.

Hana closes her eyes. It's easy enough to dissemble her nervousness when Chaima is in her arms, but not when Kiara is pinning her with that piercing, knowing gaze. That gaze has always been Hana's undoing.

"Look at you, asking me all the hard questions at 11 in the morning."

Kiara sighs, and fiddles with Chaima's curls. "Your arms must be aching, ma moitié. Let me have her just a bit. Rest now; we'll be reaching Edgewater in half an hour."

Hana sighs and nods. She doesn't want to let go of Chaima yet - it would be so much easier, pushing every other thought aside when this lovely golden child is in her arms...and she suspects that's part of the reason Kiara wants to take over. Don't put off things just because you think you can't handle them perfectly, habibti.

Kiara tucks Chaima's head gently on her shoulder, crooning an old lullaby in Darija. Nīnī yā moūmoū...Hattā tjī ‘andou moū...Sleep my baby...until your Mommy arrives...

Chaima thumps her little hands against Mama Kiki's breasts in approval. Sighing, Hana takes out the letter that brought her here.

Dear Hana,

I hope you, your wife and your little one are well. It's springtime here at Edgewater, we have plenty visitors in the afternoons, touring the gardens and the lake. Mabel has been renovating the house again - she's been insisting I leave the Regency-style furniture in the Regency era and go for something more contemporary (I'm right!).

Little Alphonsa thanks you for her copy of "A Smart Cookie". I'm sure she'll love the message in a few years...but for now all she can see are the cupcakes, the croissants and the macarons. I'm quite proud of the fact; in this one area she takes after her father.

Despite her nervousness, Hana cannot resist a small smile. It's been good to hear from Peter again, truly. He has always been a serious man, whose humour slips through in the most unexpected moments, and it shows in his letters. And from his wife's rare interjections in his letter, she can tell Mabel is the more open, outgoing one.

It had all begun a year ago. They hadn't spoken at all in the years since their engagement had fallen apart, first out of bitterness and then out of shame. Somewhere in those early days, he'd resented her for those dreams left unfulfilled, and somewhere she half-hated him for leaving her to deal with aftermath, alone.

But when she'd heard the news of Earl William Foredale's death from her father, it felt odd not to give him a call. They'd known each other long enough for Hana to understand how hard Peter would have been hit - this man he'd loved and worshipped and wanted to follow on the footsteps of - and whether or not her presence was welcome she knew she needed to at least try.

You reached out after years of silence and offered only compassion, he wrote to her months later, For that, I can never thank you enough.

She looks to the final lines in the letter. Just to see if there's something she's missing, something hidden between the lines. Perhaps, an courtesy-invitation to an old friend he would much rather not see again.

You mentioned in your last letter that you'd be in London two months from now. I would like to extend an informal invitation to visit the Edgewater estate, and our family, when you are here. It would be nice to catch up.

His letters to her have been nothing but sweet. Warm. Tentative in their attempts to speak about anything but that which caused them to part. And for that, she is grateful.

Still. That prickle of fear remains.

--

The foyer of the mansion is elegant, imposing. From the parlour nearby she can faintly hear the sounds of an excited child attempting to converse with Chaima, occasionally asking Kiara if she can touch her hand. My baby, my cupcake, we'll give you lots and LOTS of milk and carrot smash!

(I think you mean mash, Kiara replies, sounding amused and more than a little charmed by the girl already)

The Persian rug is soft beneath Hana's feet, and the oak panels shine in the patch of sunlight streaming in through the windows. But that is not what catches her attention.

A portrait on the side, of a young woman in an ocean-blue gown that bears the insignia of a unicorn and an eagle, in gold and silver. An elegant shawl around her shoulders. In her face is the pride of a woman who seems to have fought for her place here, and won. Next to her, a calm, brown-haired man, hands kept behind him. Straightening his back, trying to stand tall, trying to match the stature of the lady he just married...but happy to be there.

"That's Florence Foredale," a rich, deep voice speaks from behind, "Countess of Edgewater. 1817 to 1867." The woman who approaches her walks with grace and confidence, hips swaying slightly as she walks. On her wine-coloured lips, a small smile. "Good afternoon, Your Grace."

Hana laughs, relieved that Peter's wife seems every bit as happy to see her as she sounds in his letters. "I've heard about her. She's quite famous in Cordonia...especially in my wife's province." She gives the other woman a teasing grin. "And we're not in Cordonia anymore, Your Excellency."

"Mabel," she interjects. "Not very many people call me by my name nowadays, and I rather miss the sound of it."

Hana nods, smiling. "Mabel it is," she says.

"Hana," Mabel responds, her eyes brown and speculative, but softening when their gazes meet. "Peter's in the study. He said he'll be joining us in a couple of minutes."

Hana's spine clenches in a mixture of anticipation and dread. If Mabel notices an involuntary twitch from her guest, she chooses not to tell.

--

Hana closes her eyes. Lifts her chin. Tries not to sweat under the harsh camera lights. Involuntarily tightens her fist until the photographer tells her she looks a little too tense.

She can feel Peter's hands, holding her by the waist like she is glass and he's afraid he could break her. She can feel his breath near her ear, slow and measured. She can almost hear him swallow his nervousness in his throat, and wonders if he is just as terrified as she is.

She waits for the feel of his lips on hers. The one she's read about in books, secretly watched in her cousins' favourite films. The one that's supposed to release a million butterflies in your stomach, the one that softly parts your lips like they're made of silk, smooth and sensuous. Already she can feel him growing closer...closer...

"OWWW!!!"

Peter finds her half an hour later in the kitchen, calming herself down with a few small squares of chocolate. Guiltily, she notes the still-blood-red bruising on his bottom lip. She runs her fingers over the delicate filigree earring they chose for the occasion, still unsure why his frown is one of worry, not disgust.

"Are you alright?"

She sniffles, almost hating him for being so kind. "I should be asking you that."

Surprisingly, he offers her a lopsided smile, making his swollen lip even more prominent than before.

"Well, see. At least I landed somewhere in the vicinity of your face this time," Peter says, chuckling, "Give me a little more practice. I promise it will be your cheek next."

Fresh tears spring in Hana's eyes - this time tears of laughter.

--

"How's this, Auntie Hana!" little Alphonsa chirps, enthusiastically swinging a rattle to Chaima's face, "Am I doing it right? Does Chaima like it? Do you? Do youuuuuu?"

The last two sentences are addressed to the baby bundled in Hana's lap, applesauce running down her mouth. Chaima looks away from her food to gift her slightly older companion a gummy, two-toothed smile. Shaking the rattle is typically the job of whichever mother has her hands free, but Peter's little daughter insisted on keeping her tiny guest happy and submerged in toys for the two days that they were here.

"Yes, Alphie," Kiara blows her a flying kiss, "you're a natural!"

Hana gives Alphonsa an affectionate pinch on the cheek with her free hand. "Chaima lights up every time she sees you, darling, and so do we."

Right next to Hana, Peter grins. It's the first genuine smile she has seen from him since they started talking, and Hana is struck by how alike he and his daughter look right now.

"Alphonsa loves babies," he explains, "or any child, really, they just have to be younger than her. It sets her big-sister instincts abuzz."

Hana sighs, shaking her head and remembering her own days as the only child. Her chandelier earrings swing around her neck as she laughs.

It fascinates her, really, how at ease they are with each other when they're talking about their children. Ever since she came here, their conversations have been awkward, stilted, punctuated with pregnant pauses that harbour all the words they're too afraid to say to each other. They've been trying so hard to be normal around each other, Hana realizes, and failing.

But as parents, they've never been better friends.

"Wait a minute," Peter's voice sounds a little bemused, suddenly, "is that -"

It is only when Hana follows his line of sight that she realizes exactly which earrings she's worn for this visit.

In that moment, she wants to dig a hole beneath the parlour floor and bury herself there.

"Yes," she says, sheepishly, "I'm sorry, I didn't think..."

Peter raises his eyebrows, then turns to look at Kiara and Mabel. As they both watch their wives talk animatedly, lost in their own conversation together, Peter suddenly turns back to Hana with a mischievous grin.

"Don't be," he says, "I'm just grateful we both managed to get better kissing practice. Less bloodshed that way."

Hana stares at him, then breaks into peals of silent giggles. It isn't even that funny...not to anyone else anyway...but the dry tone and the memories make it hard for her to stop laughing.

God. She isn't sure what else may happen to cast a shadow on this golden time, this lovely reunion...but if there is one thing Hana has missed up her old friend...it's this.

--

It is on their second day at Edgewater, that Countess Mabel requests Hana accompany her for a short walk.

Edgewater Lake is a tranquil, limpid little paradise, tucked away behind the estate's beautiful gardens and sprawling grounds. The aroma of bay willow and birch trees is alluring and soothing all at once, and even the ducks seem to float languidly over the water.

Mabel smiles in satisfaction at the sponge cakes in her box, kept specially for the ducks. She offers some to Hana, and together they throw the crumbs in the lake, watching in rapt attention as the ducks practically spring into life, squabbling over who gets which piece.

"I don't think I've ever felt more at peace anywhere in this estate than here," Mabel says. "I found this place quite by accident on my first week here, when I was too intimidated with the rest of the house and the estate. It's been my safe space ever since."

"It's a beautiful place," Hana smiles, remembering Sôse - the lake near the Cordonian Royal Palace. Its clear waters, its free-spirited birds, that distinctive smell of yellow crocus flowers that now reminds her of home. Where she was once told she would become a Duchess. Where Kiara had proposed to her, seven months later.

"Many tales speak of Countess Florence having picnics here."

"With her husband?" Hana says with an arched eyebrow, knowing full well the true answer.

"No. Her...companion. Miss Annabelle Parsons of Hazelvale."

"Parsons? As in the artist who painted Woman's Waltz and Rose Gold Reminiscence?"

"Yes," Mabel says, a faint smile on her lips, "I'm certain you've heard all the stories."

"Not until recently," Hana whispered, remembering just how ignorant she felt, those first few months after she realized she loved women more often than she loved men. How much there was for her to learn. She remembered sitting up some nights after she came out in public, wondering just what to call herself. Am I lesbian? Am I bisexual? Why are most of the people I get attracted to, women? And how can I say I'm lesbian if I've still found myself gravitating towards at least one or two men?

It took Kiara to convince her that she needed to stop overthinking, that changing her mind about who she was didn't mean she was lying to herself. To feel good about learning at her own pace. When she first heard about Florence Foredale, Hana hadn't even known what a lavender marriage was. "I wasn't really out to anyone until I started living in Cordonia."

Mabel's smile grows wider. "Me too. I'm bisexual."

Hana sucks in a breath. "Really?"

"Yes."

"When did you realize?"

Mabel's smile is swift and regretful. "I had an inkling in my early twenties...but I was deep in denial until at least two years ago."

Hana nods, placing a hand on Mabel's shoulder. "That sounds a lot like my journey. I don't think I could even articulate who I thought I was before I left Shanghai."

"Before Peter and I met, I was a young girl brought up in a very strict Goan Catholic family," she says, "You never even uttered the words gay or bisexual around our house." She sighs, heavily, seeming to remember her first year at Edgewater. "I was so scared. The timing was all so wrong. What was I going to do, now that I knew? What was I going to tell Peter?"

Hana winces. She had the same fears the night of their engagement...only now she can give those questions a name. The memory of his face is blinding in its clarity: contorted in pain, his mouth uttering questions she wasn't sure she would ever have the answers for...Is this what you want? Am I what you want??

The way the scales fell from his eyes as she fought to stop her tears.

And then he had left. Left that secluded hallway, left her house, left China. News of the broken match came from her parents.

She had become "damaged goods" overnight. Without a single hair on her head being touched.

Silently, Mabel reaches out and takes Hana's hand, squeezing it in understanding and an attempt to comfort. Hana presses her eyes closed. She doesn't want this woman's pity. Not after this long, when it's too little too late.

Hana is afraid of the answer. But she still has to ask.

"How did Peter react?"

"Afraid."

If her eyes weren't closed already, she would have done so right now, cursing herself for coming here. All this time...and she'd really convinced herself he'd changed...but if he was treating his lawfully-wedded wife this way -

"Not of me," Mabel says softly, her hand moving to touch Hana's arm now, "Of himself. He never quite forgave himself for what you had to go through after he left."

Hana sucks in a horrified breath. "He knew?"

Even before she did?? And he never once tried to talk to her about it?

"Not right away. Not that you weren't straight." Mabel says, nervously fingering a sapphire bracelet on her wrist. "It took him years to make sense of it. When the announcement of your marriage to Kiara came out...and then that magazine spread you'd made on Trend for Pride in Cordonia...several things began falling into place."

"Before or after you came out to him?"

"After," Mabel whispers, "I won't pretend it was perfect. I won't say he understood everything all at once . But he did try...and he still keeps trying."

Hana lets out a sigh of relief. It feels good, knowing that the phantom she had built in her head of him isn't entirely accurate.

"More than once when he's spoken about you," Mabel begins again, slowly, "he's told me that he thinks neither of you had a clue you loved women back then. He said you didn't seem to have enough space to ask questions about who you were or what you wanted."

"He's right," Hana says, staring unseeingly at the ripples on the lake. "When I fell in love for the first time, in Cordonia, it was hell. I had no idea what I was feeling, I couldn't get over the fact that it was a woman...and she was lost to me before I could even hope to win her."

Mabel smiles. "...and then you met Kiara."

Hana chuckles, a glow trickling down and filling every inch of her being...as it always does when she remembers their first days after they confessed their love to each other. "And then I met Kiara."

The two women walk further, looking out towards the lake rather than at each other. Hana gropes around in her mind desparately for a change in subject.

"I feel like I've seen this place before, even though this is my first time personally visiting Edgewater."

"It's possible," Mabel concedes. "Several films have been shot here. I think my favourite one so far has been that one with Cassandra Leigh in it... what's its name...?"

"A Timeless Heart," Hana replies, wonderingly. Even as she answers she finds herself awash with memories. Memories she'd kept locked away since Peter had left...yet something about this particular one demands she revisit it today.

They're at the home theatre Father and Mother had installed, just before Peter's parents agreed to their match. Peter tries - not too subtly - to place his arm around her. Hana obediently folds her hands on her lap, and hopes he doesn't realize they built this room specifically for him.

"Did you know," he inches himself a little closer to her, whispering, "this scene was shot a few years ago at a lake close to our house."

Hana does not answer. Her eyes are glued to the screen, glued to the woman with dark hair and wine-red lips, the camera almost caressing her face. The hero, who Hana is suddenly grateful she cannot see, takes a freshly-bloomed rose from his pocket, gently brushing her cheek with it. She gifts him a slow smile in invitation. Yes.

He brings the rose to his lips, and Hana fully expects him to return it to his pocket, but he does not. Instead he brings it back to Cassandra Leigh's face again.

The petals caress Cassandra's cheek like velvet on silk, moving slowly, sensuously, down the line of her jaw. The length of her hair. Her rosebud mouth. It moves across the expanse of her face, and Cassandra responds to the flower as she would the touch of a lover.

As the flower moves languidly over her silken skin...and Cassandra's expression shifts between confusion and desire and pure bliss, Hana feels a softening deep within her. It's a sensation she has never quite felt before. It moves, again, again, almost as if the petals are kissing her - not the man holding them.

It's almost as if he doesn't exist. It's almost as if no one exists, just her. And this woman.

When the projector breaks down immediately after, and Peter gets up - grumbling about missing the best part of the film - she suddenly stares at her fiancé-to-be like she can barely recognize him.

"Penny for your thoughts?" It's Mabel. Hana shifts uneasily at her piercing gaze.

"I was just thinking..." Hana murmurs, still bemused by the revelation, "sometimes all the signs can be right in front of you - staring you in the face - and you won't even realize that that weird feeling at the pit of your stomach was desire."

Mabel nods slowly, her smile one of recognition.

"Yeah...I've had a couple of crushes I didn't even realize were crushes until later."

"It's funny," Hana replies with a small laugh, "this entire time I've been thinking my love for women suddenly burst into life when I came to Cordonia and met Esther...but it's been there all along. It just took me a while to see it. To give it a name."

"Well...you know what they always say," Mabel lays a soft hand on Hana's arm, "Hindsight is 20/20."

--

"And this...this is Earl Vincent the First," Peter says, pointing to the portrait of a man in 15th century finery on the wall of his study. "Quite the character. He's said to have spied on both sides during the Wars of the Roses."

Hana smiles. "I know of at least one Duchess back home who would love to hear that story."

It's their last day in Edgewater, and Peter has summoned her to the study. Hana wills away the still-slight prickle of fear that he will rake up the past. They've spoken often enough; the topic could have easily come up if he so chose.

"and this...this is my most famous ancestor - appointed Championess of the Realm by Queen Charlotte herself - Countess -"

"- Florence," Hana whispers. The young woman in the portrait is still dressed in her house colours of blue and gold, but holds a white rose to her bosom. Her gaze seems to focus on the artist, brimming with emotions she cannot yet express. Hana is confident that if she strained her eyes long enough, she would find Parsons scribbled at the bottom-right corner of the painting.

"Yes," he says, a faint smile on his lips, "I hear that back in Castelserraillan they've made a film on her life."

"She's quite popular there."

"For good reason, I imagine," Peter says, "Most of what used to be considered 'rumour' about her is...in effect...true."

Hana's eyes widen. The stories of Countess Florence Foredale marrying Mr Chambers but pledging her vows to Miss Parsons...that she gleefully officiated her "husband's" own union to another man on their wedding night...they are fairly common knowledge. Common knowledge that you'd never expect the heir to her estate to confirm.

"Among us descendants, no one knows for sure whether her son was part of the Foredale bloodline in the way the ton of those times would have wanted it," Peter stares at the Countess' portrait, hands clasped behind his back, every inch this woman's heir. "But she left behind a legacy. A legacy I am proud of. A legacy I long to live up to."

Remembering her conversation with Mabel at the lake, Hana says, "From what I've heard, you already are."

Peter's answering smile is one of sad knowing. "You've been talking to Mabel."

Flushing, Hana nods. "I have."

He chuckles and shakes his head. "She often gives me more credit than I deserve."

Hana laughs. "I think I'll let her be the judge of that."

She can see Peter's shoulders heave in a deep, deep sigh. He walks away from the hundreds of ancestral portraits, back to his table, running a fingernail across its wooden surface. His eyes are cast downwards, almost as if he can't bring himself to look at her.

Hana freezes, anticipating the difficult conversation ahead.

"Hana," he says, his voice suddenly rough, "I wanted to hate you so badly in the beginning."

Her stomach drops to her feet. "I know."

"I kept telling myself, she could have opened up to me, anytime. I stayed at her home three while weeks; she could have let me know then. I convinced myself that I was a match you carelessly chose to sleepwalk into, that you considered me another chore to get done."

Tears spring in Hana's eyes. "I couldn't understand what was happening to me back then. I still don't."

Peter moves behind the table, running his fingers through the knob of one of the drawers. His own eyes seem clouded, she notes with a pang.

"Mabel told me once...the process to figuring out who you are isn't always going to be linear. You're never going to figure it out all in one go," he finally raises his eyes to hers, "Was it like that for you?"

Hana swallows. "It's still like that for me. There are still parts of this journey that are yet to make sense."

"I could have stayed back. Talked to you. Tried to help somehow, though god knows whether I'd have messed it all up further. I could have tried." Peter's voice is flat, almost deceptively lacking emotion. Only his eyes betray his recrimination of himself. "Instead I ran off. Leaving you to face all the questions."

"You didn't!" Hana's own voice is suddenly hoarse, roused by his self-flagellation into passionate defense. "Don't think I didn't notice, Peter. Before you left, you and your family made use of every contact you could find...to kill most of the gossip surrounding our breakup. Neither I nor my family found out until two years later."

Peter shakes his head in disbelief. "But -"

"You didn't get all of it right. I know that. People still managed to spread the word, and I kept getting raked over the coals for it, even after I married Kiara." Hana takes a deep breath, exhausted from her tirade. "You hated me then, but you were still willing to do that for me. If you really want to know how worthy you are of Florence Foredale's lineage, you can start right there."

Peter sighs. "Let me apologize for not trying to understand, at least."

She lets out a watery laugh. "Apology accepted."

He searches her eyes for affirmation, and nods, opening the drawer he had been running his fingers through mere minutes ago.

"Come here," he mumbles finally, leafing through a sheaf of papers, "I have something I've been wanting to show you. Ever since we started writing each other."

It's sketches of the same woman - in various moods, various poses...the drawings themselves in various stages of completion. These aren't formal portraits, set up over stand and easel, its subjects motionless. No - these are poetry in motion, impatiently etched, capturing their subject in all her vibrancy and fierce spirit. Here she is, head thrown back in (at least in Hana's imagination) loud raucous laughter, the wind in her hair. And here, yet again, holding a little boy up in the air, his tiny hands reaching out to caress her face.

Here is one made by the Countess - herself an accomplished artist - of her wife standing tall and proud, an eagle perched on her right arm, her left hand caressing a unicorn.

Her heart almost stops when she sees the final painting - the artist Parsons herself, arms wound around the other woman's waist, her chin tucked against the Countess' shoulder. Their fingers seem woven together, so that you cannot quite tell which ones belong to whom. The Countess herself looks to their interwoven hands with a mixture of desire, and longing, and pain.

Hana runs a hand over the couple, her touch almost reverent. Her heart twists a little at the strength of their love, the immense injustice of their loss. "No one else has seen these before."

"No one," Peter agrees, "except my wife. We unearthed these just days after Father died. And a week before you made that call." He picks the last drawing up, his eyes brimming with affection. "When you rang us so soon after that, it felt like a sign. Like I had one more chance to make things right."

Hana takes his hand, pressing it between hers. "You and Mabel have done more than that. I'll never forget this visit. You both owe us a trip to Cordonia, now."

Cautiously, tentatively, Peter gives her a hug.

"I'd like you to have this last painting," he says gruffly, passing her the one she'd touched so reverently mere moments ago. "It just feels right, you having this. There's a lot of things my ancestor didn't have...that I'm glad you and my Mabel finally get the space to explore."

"And even then, we had to navigate so much to get there," Hana responds. "All we can do really is pass it forward. Make it easier for the next generation, and the next, and the next."

Peter gifts her a rueful smile. "I'll try my best to do just that, Hana. I promise you."

--

Little Alphonsa giggles and gives Kiara a drawing of herself and Chaima, as a keepsake. Already Kiara plans to have it framed and put up in her nursery.

Mabel has a gift of her own, too. Just before Hana leaves, she slips a small package into her bag, insisting she only open it when they're closer to the airport.

The car that takes them to the airport weaves through traffic slowly, steadily, in no particular rush. In an hour's time, Chaima is asleep on Kiara's lap, and Kiara herself has dozed off, mumbling gibberish in her dreams.

Quietly, Hana takes out the package, tears open the wrapper. A letter falls out.

H -

Since you like Cassandra Leigh so much, I thought you might like The Warmest Winter. You'll know why when you watch. Thank me later.

Love,

M.

It's a CD cover for a film. Two women, gazing into each other's eyes in reverent devotion, their gazes speaking a million promises that their lips can never tell. Hana presses the CD to her chest and whispers a prayer of gratitude.

A sleeping Kiara shifts her neck ever-so-slightly in Hana's direction, murmuring her name softly. Her hand still lies - soft. protective - over Chaima's stomach.

Hana keeps the CD back in the larger bag she's carrying - the one that holds those precious paintings.

Seems like our plans are set for next date night, wife. She brushes away a strand of hair from Kiara's forehead, kissing it. I just can't wait.

--

Notes:

Ma moitié - French for "my other half"

Nīnī yā moūmoū - Moroccan lullaby (link here)

A Timeless Heart and The Warmest Winter are both Cassandra Leigh films in the Choices universe.

Inspiration for the Timeless Heart scene in the movie-watching section, came from a rather sensuous (by our 50s Bollywood standards!) Hindi film scene in Mughal-e-Azam, where the hero caresses the heroine with a feather. See:

You can watch the full song here and the scene in question is from 2.10-3.00.

#hana lee #hanaleeappreciationweek #HLAW #the royal romance #the royal heir #the royal finale #HLAW Day 3 #HLAW Day 3: Pride Parade #lizzybeth1986 #content: fanfic #kiara theron #desire and decorum #annabelle parsons #hana lee x kiara theron #hana x kiara #annabelle parsons x mc #long post

[rivalkieran]

YEAHHH NARRITIVE MONSTERS!!! I love how you describe your versions of florian and kiki it always makes my brain go WEEE.... anyway my florian has completely given up on changing their role as the hero despite HATING it. they didn't ask to go up against turo, they didn't want to take ogerpon and they didn't want to go back down to area zero and fight terapagos. (they didn't want to win the battle against kieran, if he hadn't told florian not to hold back they would've let him win.) over time they give up. they are doomed to be the hero. doomed to save and not to be saved. forced to slay the monster. points at my florian why you so reluctant hero ..... points at your florian why you so eager hero /lh

thank you :D Im Very normal about them.

also!!! your florian sounds very fun!!! I loooooove hesitant/resigned heroes… tbh if a character is playing off of the whole “being a character with a role in a story” thing in any way I’ll probably like them a lot. metafiction my beloved…

alsoalso. to be fair . considering what solisverse florian was dealing with before juliana offered her the protagisms I think its completely understandable why she ended up Like That fjjdhfjfjg

#solis.txt #asks

[everystephoftheway]

Hi!

May I ask for "Staying behind Character A with their arms wrapped around their waist or turning them around" with Vaxleth? :D

25 ɦσƭ ƭɦเɳɠร σɳℓყ ɦσƭ ૮ɦα૨α૮ƭε૨ร ∂σ this takes place in the legend of vox machina universe

Keyleth has been standing in front of the now closed fire plane rift for the last twenty minutes. Her hands are curled around her staff, head gently resting against the wooden support as she tries to convince herself that everything that happened today wasn’t a fantasy. She can still feel the licks of the flames against her skin, curling around her body in a warm cocoon, but never once burning her flesh or causing any pain. It was warm, welcoming, safe. It was like the embrace of a loved one, and she had never felt stronger in her life. Maybe her Aramente wasn’t going to be so bad; if she could pass through fire, what couldn’t she do?

“Kiki?” Two lithe hands gently find purchase on Keyleth’s hips and she shakes out of her trance, flipping around to find Vax, hands now pulled back like he had touched flame. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he said with a breathy laugh. Whether his cheeks are red from the heat or from embarrassment Keyleth isn’t sure, but it looks sweet on him all the same. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright after everything that happened today. It was a lot.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” she laughs with him, her shoulders curling forward ever so slightly as her cheeks begin to match his in color. “I didn’t mean to jump. I just got a little startled and, you know…But I’m okay too. Thank you for asking.”

He nods and smiles. “Of course.” Vax’s eyes slide just past Keyleth, to the shimmering closed gash behind her. “It was incredible.”

“What, the fire plane?” Keyleth turns and looks at it too. The entrance to the fire plane extends high into the sky, formidable and definitely incredible.

“No. You.” 

Keyleth’s brow furrows like she doesn’t quite hear him correctly, but the way her heart pounds against her chest lets her know she definitely heard him correctly. 

“Me?” She doesn’t turn back to look at him; not making eye contact makes it easier to not melt right into the lava they stand over. 

“You’re the most incredible person I know.” What Keyleth doesn’t see is the way Vax looks at her, his eyes scrunched with a reverent smile. He understands she doesn’t know how to take a compliment, so he doesn’t ask her to turn. He hopes the words are enough.

Despite how hot her back feels from where she presumes he is looking, just like earlier in the day, she does not shy away from it. His words make her heart pound, but in a way that makes her feel like she can fly instead of her feet feeling glued to the ground.

"Thanks, Vax," she says, still facing the fire plane, though she can see how he stands just behind her in her peripherals, close enough to touch if she reached. And reach she does, offering a hand which he takes.

Without the surprise element, Vax's hand is warm, welcoming, safe. She squeezes it gently as she finally turns to look at him, ready to face whatever came for them next.

#sorry this took so long! it took a minute for my brain to come up with an idea i liked #ravendruid #my fic #vaxleth #vaxleth fic #tlovm fic #keyleth of the air ashari #vax'ildan #cr ask