hi I'm Jazz! she/they pronouns art creds to sophithil
47 posts
Memersanonymous - Jazz Writes - Tumblr Blog
first canonical seaweed brain and of course it's while they're fighting over who gets to sacrifice themselves
annabeth trying to dismantle a GOD's unbeatable machine because her fatal flaw is hubris and percy just knowing he was going to sit on the machine because his fatal flaw is loyalty THIS FUCKING WRITERS ROOM PLEASE SPARE ME
" Percy denied immortality" and "Percy did poison stuff" well guess what
Annabeth swore that she would protect Percy on the river Styx
At THIRTEEN
SHE HADN'T EVEN KNOWN HIM FOR A YEAR AT THAT POINT
ot3 ot3
okay but if Rachel had managed to live to LiS then I will bet your bottom dollar that Amberpricefield would undeniably be a thing, because then bi hurricane Rachel Amber would meet bi disaster Max Caulfield and chaos lesbian Chloe Price would complete the trifecta setting the house on fire
Rachel: Love you, Chloe.
Chloe: Love you too, Rachel.
Rachel: More than Max?
Chloe: Know your limits.
Vi: I love you.
Caitlyn: How many people have you said that to?
Vi: Everyone.
Caitlyn: What?
Vi: I told everyone that I love you.
Go and follow mine and my friends shared account!!
✩‧₊˚ our **dni** ¡!
¡! our **carrd** ✩‧₊˚
hi hi this is our little blog!!! we make stimboards, moodboards, oneshots, playlists and!! like!!! everything in-between!!
please read and respect our carrd before you interact <33
¡! mod lev (🎮) !¡
it/they/xe/he :; ★☆
★☆! abt lev <3
¡! mod memers (💐) !¡
she/they :; ★☆
★☆! abt memers <3
¡! mod cat (🥨) !¡
he/she/they (any) :; ★☆
★☆! abt cat <3
things we will do:; !
- stimboards
- moodboards
- playlists
- matchups
- pokemon teams
- oneshots
- pfps
- edits
check our individual mod posts for our fandoms <33
It shocks me to this day how hard cait and vi fell in love in just 2 days of knowing each other
this is another level of lesbianism
Glorious Evolution
Being soooo normal abt Ramattra rn
junker queen the type of girlfriend to tell you that she saved a seat for you and then pat her thigh
A FOOL'S GAME
summary - an angsty drabble of fem reader leaving an emotionally troubled ellie warnings - angsty arguing, strong language, mentions of infidelity, sad feelings word count - 1.4k credits: divider credit a/n - written with "a pearl" by mitski in mind. def listen on replay while reading!
"If you told me that this would be the way we'd end up..." you started. But your breath caught itself on the painful lump in your throat. You began to laugh in disbelief, mostly to shake off the urge to cry. "I would have never believed you."
She couldn't help but avert her gaze. So much so, that you secretly wondered if she felt she'd turn to stone if she met your eyes. Maybe in some way, she would. She was embarrassed. Cheeks pink, ears red, jaw clenched with tension. She leaned against her desk, arms crossed, frozen almost. Eyes glued to the floor.
"And here we are. You don't want to touch me... You can't even fucking look at me."
Despite your words, Ellie remained unmoved. You began to wonder if her silence meant that she actually felt guilty, or whether it was just indignation. You knew she had a bad habit of never admitting when she was wrong.
"I never meant to hurt you," Ellie broke the silence, embarrassment in her voice, with her eyes now stuck on her busted sneakers. "I wasn't thinking and I wish I-"
"You don't get to say that," you cut her off, nearly scolding her. Her green eyes finally flew up to meet yours, and your heart sank to your stomach. "You don't get to tell me you didn't mean to hurt me and go do what you did." "They were stupid, shitty mistakes, and I know that, and I'm sorry." Ellie rambled with pleading eyes, almost scrambling to find all the right words to make this go away. She pushed herself off the desk she was leaning on and walked toward you, a gentle hand out to hold your arm. "I don't want... I can't lose you."
A wave of dread washed over you. All you've wanted is for her to love you the way you've loved her. To want you the way you've wanted her. She used to tell you how terrified she was of losing you. But with Ellie looking at you the way she was, you couldn't help but wonder if she was only saying this now just to save her ass. You reluctantly swallowed the thought and let her have her word.
"There's a lot I don't talk about anymore and I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry things have been getting worse, and it's not that I don't want you, I just..."
"And you just what?" you scoffed, belittling Ellie's explanation. The disdain in your voice made Ellie furrow her eyebrows, hurt flashing on her features for a fleeting moment. You were almost sorry for saying anything. "All those nights staying up and laughing. You were able to sleep through the night and eat a full meal again. We used to talk about everything and nothing... what the fuck happened to us?"
Silence.
Ellie looked away and out the window at the gentle flurries of snow. She sighed deeply, chewing the inside of cheek with her eyebrows furrowed. She felt it. You were getting tired of her. All the shit she's put you through, and you had finally reached your breaking point. She knew you deserved better, but Ellie was a selfish girl in love. She would never able to tell you to leave - and mean it.
"I don't even feel real anymore."
You had always been almost convinced that if you loved her enough, the pink would return to her cheeks. That maybe, the butterflies she'd feel when her name fell from your lips would quiet the maggots eating her up inside. But even in between stolen kisses and nights spent together, she’d never spare the breath to tell you about the trouble you always knew was brewing beneath the surface. She assumed if she remained in blissful ignorance of her own feelings, it would eventually go away. No tears to be had and regretted.
But she made her own mistakes anyway. You almost didn't feel bad for her anymore.
"So you go out and do this? Instead of talking to me?" you shot back, wishing her the same sadness that sat in your chest and pooled in your eyes. You moved away from the gently placed hand on your arm, spurning any of her affection toward you. "Did it feel real when you fucked her? Was it that good? Just had to keep going back for more? Maybe I'll go fuck someone else, too. How 'bout an ex to make it even?"
Seeing your eyes become glossy and talk about sleeping with an ex stirred self-disgust in Ellie's gut. She felt backed into a corner, forced to see her own reflection. God, she felt pathetic for having put you through it all. But like clockwork, the accountability only went so far before she scornfully projected. Her eyes darkened, and she took a step back to sneer at you.
"You know what? Maybe you should. Cause this shit right here?" she fired back, gesturing to the both of you. "Maybe this was the biggest mistake I've ever fucking made."
The last words that left her mouth struck you breathless. That nasty lump rising higher in your throat stoked the nausea you felt at her words. You could tell that your silence made Ellie itch. The inner corners of your eyebrows were raised and a dejected smile spread across your lips.
"THIS? This was your biggest mistake?" you laughed through your tears incredulously. "I never know what's going on in your head, El. You'd tell me you love me and you don't want to lose me. Kiss me one day and refuse to touch me the next. Find you fucking someone else, and that this hadn't been the first time...and here I am, making more fuckin' excuses for you."
"Then stop making them!" Ellie threw her hands up and then let them down, slapping her thighs in exasperation."Jesus Christ, I said I was sorry! What the fuck else do you want me to say? I fucked up, I know!"
"You don't get it," you whispered bitterly while you shook your head gently, the tears running hot across your cheeks. "I fucking loved you, Ellie. I would've done anything for you... Who was there when Tommy couldn't even bring himself to look at you? When Dina promised you'd never see JJ again? The nights you couldn't sleep, you couldn't eat?"
"I didn't need your fucking help!" Ellie raised her voice over yours, the guilt eating away at her more quickly. "I never asked you to be there, I would've always been fine on my own. I never fucking needed you."
"...Got it." You nodded sarcastically, wiping the tears from your eyes and cheeks, snatching your backpack off of Ellie's couch. "All the hurt I put myself through to make sure you were okay? I guess that's my fault, huh?"
Ellie's heart quickened watching you grab your belongings to leave. But she stood there frozen and powerless, wanting to make it better but also wanting it all to be over. How did she manage to fuck this up so badly? She knew in the next minute or so, she'd have to watch you walk out of that door and never come back.
"You're so terrified of losing me, right?" You said whilst rummaging through a pocket of your backpack and pulling out a small black journal. It was a journal she'd given you full of just little sketches and doodles - some of you, some of you both together, some of silly things.
"Y/N. Don't. Please, let me just-"
You chucked the book at Ellie, who couldn't meet your eyes again but drew closer to you in an attempt to keep you from leaving. The book struck the side of her chest but like a brick wall, she remained there, shamefully gnawing the inside of her mouth, a strand of her auburn hair falling into her face. If you had stared at her long enough, you'd notice the tears she'd been trying to blink away.
"Fuck you, Ellie. You did this shit to yourself."
Her front door slammed behind you as you stormed out and stepped off her porch. The feeling of the frozen wind stinging your cheeks and rustling your hair was almost pleasant. Well, what now?
You said what you had to say. But the pit in your stomach only grew heavier, and you felt sick. Somehow you knew.
You knew that no matter how many times you leave, how many times she hurt you, you would always love her, like a fucking fool.
Maybe it was never truly better to have loved and lost. Maybe you would've been better off if you had never loved at all.
that pedro pascal laughing then crying meme is the perfect way to summarize what watching the last of us is like
have these from the cooking show today
Aims and Taylor Swift having a conversation across from eachother↓
omg
my girlfriend just started sleep talking and went “you are like a little chicken that runs around on a farm” ???
I CAN TAKE A DEEO BREATH OMG IVR BEEN SO SCWRED SINCE THE LORE EARLIER
guqqie please will a Single character ever have a slight happy ending... like a crumb of a happy ending even , i cant complain because i love the way you do angst But is it even possible now with how the guqqie characters universe is laid out
au!guqqie will get a happy ending. i want the happy ending to feel more like an achievement. they work for it. might as well throw angst in there in the middle.
no one gets a happy, sad or mid ending without struggle. that’s boring and unrealistic (i say as this character is literally a clone of an alien scientist)
—WE NEED MUSIC! e.munson x reader
you’re more madonna, blondie, and bowie and eddie munson has to find common ground to save your life
pairing: eddie munsox x fem!reader (she/her pronouns)
warnings: swearing, descriptions of blood, cuts, wounds, drowning.
word count: 3.7k
Nancy Wheeler has it all. The beauty, brains, and ferocity. But unbeknownst to the majority of Hawkins, what she lacked was a friend. You two have shared classes before, exchanged kind smiles in the halls, and even engaged in small talk whenever the opportunity presented itself. But the two of you never truly got to know each other— until Senior Year.
The summer air still lingered as it slowly intertwined itself with the fall cold when you saw the announcement on the classroom bulletin board. It was the first day of your senior year and you were already having post-graduation anxieties. Should you have participated more? To prepare yourself for college interactions? Or to be more knowledgeable and worldly—
“Miss Y/L/N.” The teacher’s stern voice broke you out of your stupor. You quickly hung your head as a weak form of an apology but your eyes discretely lingered on the paper pinned to the board.
Shortly after that, you pushed all inhibitions aside, dug out the converse shoebox containing wrinkled papers, and submitted a small compilation of the short stories you’ve written over the past few years to The Weekly Streak.
You had gotten more than you bargained for. The editor-in-chief of the school newspaper, Nancy Wheeler herself, excused you from Calculus class to gush about how the news staff loved your writings. The Weekly Streak was only looking for contributors but Nancy convinced them to give you a full-time spot.
If you want it, of course.
Of course, I want it, Nancy. If it means getting pulled out of Calculus more then yeah.
She laughed, you laughed, and the rest was history.
—+—
You really wished your history going forth with Nancy consisted more of laughing and gossiping while painting your nails and not getting your skin ripped apart by interdimensional-tentacle-vampire hybrid bats.
Keep reading
liquid smooth
eddie munson x reader
summary: eddie's nightmares corrode his nights for the past two weeks. with guilt overwhelming his healing wounds, you let your boyfriend talk to you as a cathartic release.
word count: 2,317
warnings: MAJOR STRANGER THINGS VOLUME TWO SPOILERS. mentions of violence, maybe ptsd, blood and depictions of gore. angst, quick and shitty writing like the duffer brothers, maybe fluff at the end.
a/n: a fix it fic. the one where IT DIDN'T HAPPEN. anyway, hope you all enjoy. mcu!peter coming next (this is me trying)
MASTERLIST
(FOLLOW @bloodstheink TO GET NOTIFIED WHEN I POST)
The space beside you is oddly cold.
You expect it to be warm, full of flesh and comforting arms wrapped around you, his blood flowing through his tatted arms. But it’s not – instead your hand caresses the crumpled part of the blanket you share.
Cold sheets render you awake. You sit up, rubbing the sleep of your eyes and blindly reach for the lamp. Immediately does the warm glow of the bulb illuminate Eddie’s room in a dim glisten, adding an orange dusk to his scattered black and white posters of metal bands you only know half of.
With feet covered by borrowed socks, you leave his bed, wrapping your arms around yourself. And as the sleep withers away into a void, you realize that Eddie is not here – not beside you. Not in the room, and not in the bathroom where you just checked.
“Eddie?” you call, quietly, amidst the silent trailer, afraid of waking up the neighbors and whoever it is that still hunt him down. You notice a lone mug sitting on the side of his table, partly filled with cold coffee. You take it into your hand and gently place it in the sink before you emerge to the small living room.
You see disarranged pillows, no longer in the place where you placed them last night before going to bed. There’s a new cigarette in the ashtray, and with the moonlight slipping through the thin blinds, you see faint smoke emerging. “Eddie?” you call again.
The lack of response presses play to a nervous song that thumps on your heart. Its lyrics circle around your filled head – where could he be? What happened to him? Did he just suddenly leave without telling me? The song an anthem to your worries that have risen these past weeks. Mostly for him, anyway.
That’s when you hear soft humming of a tune outside the trailer from the back. You whip your head to the slippers beside the door and slip it on, ever so softly opening the door and exit the small house and tramp your way behind to see him.
Eddie’s sitting on an old crate of beer, unamplified electric guitar lays on his lap, caressed by his bandaged fingers. Although it’s been a two weeks, you miss seeing the rings on his hand. You cross your arms, and walk towards your awakened boyfriend.
When he sees your socks he stops, looking up at you with a small smile. “Hey, babe,” he murmurs. His voice is accompanied by the air that crumples the fallen leaves of the forest behind, followed by a soft grunt coming from you when you sit on the ground in front of him. “Did I wake you up?”
“No,” you shake your head, resting your chin on his thigh that’s covered by his pajamas, but beneath it is another wrap of gauze. “I just woke up by accident.”
“Did I worry you?”
You wonder if he can hear your heartbeat from inside, or if he felt the decelerating pulse on your wrist when he grabs a hold of it to thumb on your skin. “No,” you say again. “I – I didn’t mean to worry. I know you hate it when I worry.”
“It’s alright,” the croak in his voice is tired, yet here he is, early in the morning with the sign of missing sleep underneath his eyes. “It’s my fault. I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for,” you kiss his left knuckle, the one exposed and covered with healing cuts. “It…woke you up again, didn’t it? The nightmare?”
Eddie’s eyes are glossed, the stained glass of his windows form a composition of trauma. He nods, looking away from you. Out of shame, embarrassment, you don’t know.
“Is it the same one?”
He sighs, resting the guitar flat on his lap. “Yeah,” he swallows, accommodated by a laugh that’s so Eddie it hurts, because you know he laughs every time to mask the pain. “Always been. Same one every fucking night, yet I can’t get it out of my head.”
“You said it stopped,” your words are anything but a scold, but you can’t hide the upset that comes with. “Baby, why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to worry you,” he sniffs, tears on the edge of his eyes that he blinks away. Eddie looks at your joint hands – wounded mingled with the unwounded. “I don’t…want to be a burden to you.”
“Baby, I’m always going to worry,” you sit up, on your knees, and cup his face in your hands. His bangs almost poke his eyes now, and you let your thumbs brush it in the middle to see his wide eyes – pretty, but damaged. “And you’re not a burden.”
“I keep you up late,” Eddie whispers. “I know you wait for me to fall asleep. And I pretend that I do so you’d fall asleep. You shouldn’t be losing sleep because of me.”
You don’t know what punches you: guilt? Sadness? “It’s not because of you, Eds. It’s because of me,” you hope your words reassure me. “It’s my choice.”
He stays silent for a bit, like he’s thinking of his next words to get away with this conversation. Eddie kisses your palm, smiles when you smile as your thumb comes across the crinkles of his eyes. “Yeah,” Eddie licks his lips. “Let’s go back to bed. I’m coming with.”
Then he kisses you, because he knows you’d say something to protest against his offer. Eddie’s lips are chapped, though it still reminds you of him. His bandaged hand comes up to place itself behind your head to bring you deeper.
But you push away because you know what he’s doing, and you don’t want it to happen. “Eddie,” you murmur against his twitching lips. “Eds, you promised we’d talk about it if it keeps on happening.”
“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he kisses you. Again, not out of want but as a beg for you to forget. “And we can talk about it tomorrow.”
“Eddie, no,” you push him away gently, removing his hand from the back of your head. “I don’t care what time it is. I – I don’t care if I’m losing sleep because you’re losing it too. I told you I’d be here no matter what, and we’re going to talk about it right now.”
His sigh is defeated. “Okay. I’m sorry,” Eddie rubs his forehead with yours.
“Now tell me what happened. Please?”
Eddie has been deferring the elucidation behind his wounds. You weren’t with him the day the night they went to attack – your role had been assigned to watch Max, Lucas, and Erica since they needed the guidance from someone older, given that the rest went to the upside down. And since then, everything went to shit;
You remember seeing Dustin and Steve carry Eddie’s unconscious body right before the “earthquake” happened. He looked like he’d just survived a bloody carnage, body doused in blood of his own, wounds open and throbbing, pulse weakening each second he lacked aid. No one but Dustin knew what happened, albeit you’ve never gotten the chance to ask him due to his ceaseless cries of fear.
He woke up the next day, and nights right after involved startling cries and quiet whimpers of help in his sleep, with you beside him to hush him back to dreamless sleep. You know he’s felt nothing but guilt when he sees your lethargic eyes in the middle of the night, stunned by his wet screams.
“I…I cut the rope back to the trailer,” he begins. “And…I left Dustin and I ran away to distract them. The bats. And…All I did was ran. That was my plan anyway, to run away and take them as far as I could. And then this stupid voice in my head – my voice – told me to just stop running and…face them. Because all my life I’d been running, because I’m nothing but a coward. I’m – I’m no hero. And I’ve got nothing else to do but run until I realized that my friends are out there who need my help.
“So I faced them. And, and I yelled at them and fought back. And then one of them caught me and I-” Eddie lets out a shuddered whimper, fingers rubbing his eyes. “They tore into my flesh and it hurt. And I let them, because I hoped it would help. It worked, though, and I thought I was going to die until Dustin came and tried hauling me back. Then Harrington saw me and just, since then I’ve felt so-… stupid trying to die for a town that hates me.”
He’s saying all this with tears in his eyes. What once was wide and full of undaunted mischief replaced by the horrors of the world that scarred his life like a knife to a flesh. “I feel so fucking stupid for trying to be a hero when I’m not.”
“You are,” you reposition yourself in front of him. “Eddie, you saved people who hate the living shit out of you. You – you saved Dustin, you saved us. You saved me,” somehow, the laugh that leaves you makes your boyfriend smile. “I’m going to agree and say what you did was unbelievably stupid, but your stupidity saved us all.”
You kiss him, again, more as an act of reverence. “You’ve always been a hero. And you’re so, so brave, Eddie. I mean, facing those bats? I don’t think your name should be Eddie the Banished anymore.”
“Yeah?” Eddie smiles at you, tears staining his lips. “What should it be, then?”
“Eddie the Slayer,” you propose. “But instead of like, Dragon Slayer, it’d be Demobat Slayer. I bet you looked so fucking heroic standing up to those monsters.”
“I didn’t kill any of them, baby. They almost killed me.”
“Nobody’s gonna know,” you tease.
“They’re gonna know,”
“No, they’re not. Unless those dipshits start talking about the Upside Down without sounding like crazies, nobody’s gonna know.”
Eddie wipes his tears with the back of his hand, sniffing loudly. “Yeah, but if I would have done something better, Max would be okay right now.”
“It’s not your fault. It’s none of ours, really,” Eddie places the guitar on the ground and comes to sit on the ground with you, but takes your hips into his hands and sits you on his lap with his chin on your shoulder. “It’s that stupid Vecna’s fault. Fucking menace.”
He laughs. You run a hand beneath his shirt, fingertips feeling his adagio healing wounds. “Fucking menace, indeed. Tore my fucking trailer down. But here I am, still living in a trailer that’s two minutes away from mine.”
“Yeah, but we share this one now, though,” you kiss his forehead, relaxed at the loss of grime and dried blood. “You’re a hero, Eddie Munson. Hawkins may not see it, but I do. And so does Dustin.”
“Dustin,” he chuckles. “Bravest little shit I’ve ever met. Second to you, I mean,” Eddie kisses your neck. “And honestly, I don’t even care if people still see me as a freak or whatever. As long as you still see me as who I am, that’s all that matters.”
“Well, you still have to care. You’re still wanted, y’know,” you massage his scalp. “We’ve got a trial next week.”
“Fair point,” Eddie taps his fingers on your thigh, cheek pressing on your bicep. “How’re the little sheep doing?” he looks up at you. “Sinclair? Especially what happened with Max.”
“His parents made me watch him the other day when you were with Dustin,” you rest your head on his, looking on the dark ground. “He’s been reading books to her. And I took Erica back to their home and hung out because God knows how she feels after getting attacked by one of Carver’s acolytes.”
“Wait what?”
“I didn’t tell you?” he shakes his head, worry creased on his forehead. “They found us. Lucas got beat up pretty bad but Jason lost. Max – I was there. I watched it happen while I was trying to fix her player but, somehow like a fucking miracle she survived. Barely,”
“But he shot you,” his cold palm rests on the spot just beneath your sleep shorts – a gauze covers the hole from the bullet Jason put through your thigh. Eddie traces the tapes that secure the bandaid. “I didn’t even get the chance to ask you what happened-”
“Hey,” you take his face into your hands. Eddie looks like he’s about to cry, unneeded guilt overwhelming his bruised chest. “This isn’t about me. It’s about you, okay? And – and I want you to know that I don’t care if you didn’t ask me because-…I just want you to be okay.”
“But we’re going to talk about it, right?” he gathers your hair into one shoulder. Eddie’s liberating eyes know any lie you let out would be injudicious, and so you know you won’t be able to sugarcoat anything that happened to you when he was away, therefore you worry you won’t be able to ease his remorse when you tell him what happens.
You decide that the best you can ameliorate him is levity. “Yeah. I’ll tell you.”
Eddie smiles. He leans in to kiss you – a saudade satisfied in a galore of communicated emotions from a disaster. His warm lips inebriate you, pushes your worries away into the gate that surrounds Hawkins. Vecna’s got your souls corroded, but with shared trauma prosed into a promise of healing together, you don’t mind a damaged soul that’s tethered to his.
“You’re a hero, Eddie Munson,” you repeat, finger running along his healing jawline. “And if everyone doesn’t see that, remember that I do.”
“I’m gonna keep you forever,” Eddie offers you a cathartic smile; a smile so pretty and so Eddie.
“Just don’t do anything stupid again.”
banner by @/lauras-collection
i will always always always always always always always always always always always always always always always always always always always always always always always always always always always always always always love you, eddie munson
☼ 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐚 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧’ ☼
Summary: In which Eddie Munson seems to have a death wish but you refuse to let him die before he ever leaves Hawkins.
Warnings: REUPLOAD WITH WORDS 💀 SPOILERS FOR THE FINALE!!!! LITERALLY WRITING THIS HOURS AFTER WATCHING!!! Violence :D! Spoilers below↓
Notes: THIS IS A REUPLOAD CUZ TUMBLR FUCKED ME OVER!!! this is what should of happened. He was my baby, my boy. I miss him and I cried, I'm not okay. This 1.9k words! And unedited!! I tried to keep reader gender neutral but if I didn't let me know!!
You were going to kill him. You were going to jump through that pseudo portal to hell and knock his head so hard hopefully common sense dislodges from the place it got lost in and settles back where it belongs. Eddie Munson had taken a dive from your favorite person in the world list and landed straight on your shit list.
“Dust– dusti–” The boy is all but ignoring you, you don't really blame him. There's a buzz in your ears, a death-like rattle that's only drowned out by the pounding in your head. Dustin darts past you again, lunging for a chair and you catch him by the sleeve of his jacket and try to steady him. “Dustin! Can you calm down for all of ten second–”
“Calm down?! You want me to calm down when– when he just killed himself?!” Dustin jerks away from you, stumbling awkwardly with the chair still in his grip. “We can’t– I can't just sit here and let him–”
“Hey!” You snap. Your fingers press into the sides of your grime covered forehead for just a second before you flinch back at the sharp pain. Shaking it off, you pin the boy with a hard stare, “I’m not saying any of that shit, okay? If it was us in there Eddie would get us–” Dustin has the nerve to look hesitant, like he wants to deny the fact and your headache screams at the thought. Even in a dire situation he wants to be a smartass. “–Just, fuck, just let me go first, okay? I'll jump… drop in and put the mattress back down so you won't fucking hurt yourself.”
“But–”
“No buts. Nancy isn't here and Steve isn't here– so I'm head huncho now. Give me the chair bucko.”
𓅷𓅷𓅷
You were going to kill him. It's a sentiment that quickly comes back as your hands touch the slick covered black portal and slip— you're sent tumbling up, down? All of it's too confusing. Both options were right, both were wrong— your back slams against the trailer floor for seconds, you're winded. A pain so sharp shoots through you, slices, really and what you're sure is already a concussion probably worsens when your head smacks against the floor and bounces like some type of meat filled volleyball. There's a distant ringing in your ears and you blink multiple times as you stare up— down? At Dustin who's frantically calling your name.
“Get up! Get up! We don't have time for this!”
Sure, you were going to kill Eddie Munson. That was already set in stone the moment the two met all those years ago— a small pebble in the big pond was time. Where he used to make fun of your Sunday best and then panicked when you cried. You already laid claim to his death, if he were to ever die— it would be by you, by your hand, your doing. Not because of some evil freak in a different dimension, demo-bats, or hillbilly hicks. Eddie would die someday because of you but there was no written rule that you couldn't kill Dustin first or at least, maim him. Maybe it would finally get him in check.
“Get up! Get up!”
You roll to your side with a scoff. Or maybe not. Even in death his ego would grow and if this shit was anything to go by, he could haunt you and be even more of a little shit than he was. Ignoring your pain, you push to your feet with gritted teeth— the screeching of the demo-bats was faint and upside down still smelt as dank as it did before, or maybe worse with the bat blood and saliva…everywhere. But you persisted, dragging the mattress under the portal for the boy and throwing what was left of the blanket tether up to help him down.
Your head always gets a little more fucked up when you thought about the systematics this world. Dustin doesn't let you ponder it long before he's shoving your spear in your hand and dragging you outside with more strength than he should possess. “Follow me.”
“Do you even know where you're going?”
Dustin shoots you an almost scathing look, and for a second, you wonder how such a cute kid but so mean. “Gee, I dunno– Maybe follow the horde of demo-bats over yonder!”
Your eye twitches. “Right, okay sorry.”
Dustin only sucks his teeth and takes off, leaving you to follow after him with a pain-filled hobble. He shoots you a look every few seconds— checking that you were still there and still keeping up with him and every time he does you shoot him the same tight lipped smile and sharp nod. His calls for Eddie are much louder than your, more stable than yours that rattle off at the end when something pinches somewhere deep inside. You don't have a broken rib, you don't think you'd be able to walk— let alone run with one but maybe bruised. Your voice wheezes out when you call for Eddie again, cut off by your sharp groan when everything in your body clenches painfully. Definitely bruised.
“Is Eddie your boyfriend?”
Your eyes jump to Dustin, he's still not looking at you. He's still pushing forward and there's a slight drag in his step that makes you frown. He must have landed the wrong way. “What?”
“Are you and Eddie– are you guys like… together-together?”
No. It was the simple truth, really. You and Eddie were friends, with a capital ‘F’— he had latched onto you at one point and never let go, a parasite that wormed its way into your body and changed your whole way of thinking. Once upon a time, a very, very long time ago— there was a time when your free time after work wasn't spent planning DnD campaigns, when you couldn't sing along to any Metallica or Van Halen song, a time where you didn't crawl into his bed when the world became too much to bear and just hold him. Friends because everything was complicated; him graduating, your fucked up life, parents or the lack of. Friends because Eddie was just as screwed up as you and panicked that more could ruin everything you already had.
Friends but not friends in a normal way. Friends in a… your mind stalls for just a moment before you snort, earning a look of bewilderment from Dustin. Friends in a Steve and Nancy way. A strange longing that neither of you act on for… reasons. So, you faintly shrug at the boy, eyes pinned past him and on the horde of bats. “Sorta.”
“Sorta?”
“Kinda. Maybe.” You grunt out, “It’s complicated. Everything is complicated.”
“I keep hearing that.” Dustin mutters, kicking up a dust of… whatever off the ground. “‘It’s complicated.’ How can love be complicated? You, Mike, Lucas, Steve,Eddie… you've all told me it's complicated when it's simple. Do you know how much Eddie talks about you?”
“He talks about me? What a weirdo.” You try to joke but Dustin shakes his head annoyed.
“He’s got this thought in his head; that once he graduates his uncle Wayne can take a job he was offered in California. You should have seen him, okay? He went on and on about how California could be a new start for them– for you because he sure as hell wasn't going to leave you here.” Dustin slows to a stop and you want to snap at him. The horde was close and while you can barely see through the mass of bats, you know Eddie is in there. If you strain yourself— make yourself focus past the ringing in your ears and the screeching of the bats, you think you can hear Eddie too. But Dustin is Dustin and for some reason thinks this is the time to have a heart to heart about feelings. Your feelings. “Said that he was finally going to man up, put on his big boy pants and go steady with you–” Dustin stuttered for a moment, “More steady– I don't know, he said you guys were like bumper cars from hell or something– just– it doesn't matter. Okay? This isn't complicated. He likes you – hell, he loves you. So are you going to put your big boy pants on and man up like him or are you gonna run?”
Holy hell. You were going to kill this kid— no matter how right he was, he said it in such a condescending tone it makes you want to hang your head and apologize and that's awful— who is he, your mother? Your mouth opens to reply but as you do, the bats give a screech and one by one drop dead. The sound they make as they drop is vaguely familiar and it takes you back to your highschool days in art— your hands caked in clap and the repetitive thump and squelch of the mineral hitting the table. When the final bat drops, there's a brief second of silence, of confusion then—
“Eddie!”
Your eyes focus just in time to see Eddie drop to his knees and fall backwards. Dustin, even with his limp is faster than you— you watch from a distance as the boy drops to his side and presses at what you can only assume is wounds. He sounds frantic, terrified— he says Eddie's name over and over like the pure utterance of it is a spell that will make him the Munson boy better. And through that, through Dustin’s panicked voice you hear Eddie laugh— you see him pat Dustin's hand and relax just slightly. “I’m fine, I'm fine— I brought you more time didn't I?”
It's like the weight of the world is off your shoulders and you drop where you stand, a quiet cry of relief leaving you. He's fine, by every miracle above he's fine— he had did what he sort to do; Eddie fucking Munson is a hero.
And you'll kill him for it. Soon, later— right now you're so tired and in so much pain, you just stretch yourself out on the ground and close your eyes. Your work is done, you don't care about how the bats died,how the black tentacle-like roots now slither away as if running from you. You don't even care to think about how to get home ‘cuz the blanket tether was cut and you're pretty sure you couldn't do that jump again. You're just plain and simple tired.
“Are you still with us, Sweetheart?”
Your eyes slowly crack open to see Eddie peering down at you, smiling with the strength of the sun. He's leaning heavily against Dustin and his shirt has definitely seen better days but he's alive. He's still with you. “New york.”
The boys blink at you, Dustin being the only one to ask, “How hard did you hit your head?”
“They hit their– what?”
You snort at them both. “After we get out of Hawkins– after California, let's go to New York and get married.”
Eddie nods then double takes, “What– I–” Dustin elbows him in his side and the boy wheezes. “Right. Okay – you, uh, think they let us?”
“If they don't, let's throw a few of these bat things at them.”
Eddie only laughs and bends with Dustin to help pick you up. “You got yourself a deal, hot stuff.”
You heard it, you heard Eddie's unmistakable screams of agony and pain through the portal.
Dustin had told you to stay put and you knew you shouldn't have, you knew you should've jumped in the second Eddie ripped the sheet away from the portal, you should've but you fucking didn't.
You screamed as your leg hit the floor, not even giving it the time of day as you got up and hurriedly ran out of the trailer, running to where you saws dozens of dead bat corpses...and Eddies, Eddie's dying body in Dustin's hands.
You ran until you reached him, kneeling on the floor and sobbing until you couldn't breathe. "Eddie, baby...you can't leave me here, not alone. I don't know what to do without you.." you say softly, your tears getting on Eddies almost lifeless cold cheeks as you cried.
"What I did was pretty metal, hey, little one..?" He said, his voice raspy as he looked up at you. "Yeah, Eddie...Ozzy would be really proud of you, baby." You say, holding him in your arms as you watched him cough up blood for one last time before everything stopped. You screamed as loud as you can with the most gut wrenching face ever.
The love of your life just died, he left you alone. You didn't know if you'd be able to make it.
Even in his dying moment he didn't stop being himself, being happy. He died tonight in your arms with a smile. The year he was supposed to graduate.
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