#this has been sitting in my google docs since that episode
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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐎𝐮𝐭
𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | Your secret fling with Eddie Munson hadn't gone entirely under wraps, particularly to the know-it-all, Dustin Henderson. With the help of Robin and Steve, the three conspire to reveal the truth, resulting in two of the most awkward people going on a date together...
𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, slight crying, alcohol consumption, awkwardness, insecurities, closeted sexuality, implied coming out, secret relationship, and some explicit sexual content: fondling, mention of porn, mention of oral, and unprotected vaginal sex (fairly minor, not the focal point).
𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | This piece has literally been sitting in my Google Docs since June 26th, because when rewatching Friends, I though it would be a cute idea for a fic, so you'll see a lot of lines and parallels from the episode (season 5, episode 14). It's devastatingly unfortunate Matthew Perry passed when I was finishing this up. So, in memory of him and a toast to friendship, here is this fic. Be safe, appreciate life, and enjoy <3 I love you all.
𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫���𝐜𝐭.
“Did you guys see that?!” A pointed finger of accusation was targeted against Eddie Munson, completely oblivious to his knowledge.
Steve Harrington had grimaced at the mush that was once a solid cheeseburger residing inside the slobbery mouth of Dustin Henderson, as the kid spoke with such urgency, clearly unperturbed by his lack of food etiquette and social decorum. But such skills could not be expected much from Dustin Henderson. That is unless, of course, an actual adult of authority had been in the presence, to which a gummy smile was expected to assuage whatever insulting comment about the need for manners that “The Hair” would proffer in disgust.
It was the second Saturday in a row that Steve’s been bombarded by the abuse of the children to let his residence be used for a pool party. He doesn’t understand how exactly he lost the backbone to say no to four teenagers, but the phenomenon had manifested into reality, and at the very least, a compromise was made for the young adults—of whatever weird mesh of a friend group this was between older teens, younger teens, crossover shebang—to tag along for a hot afternoon of relaxation.
“Yeah, Eddie’s hair totally looks like a wet mop.” Max Mayfield snickered between her sips of a twisty-straw-in-lemonade action. In truth, seeing lushes locks of black stick to his face and neck was quite amusing, especially when made worse as the metalhead re-calibrated like a dog, shaking his hair as a means of getting rid of the chlorine water that weighed down his head. One that could always get a good chuckle out of anyone.
“No! Not that! That!” The ghost trail that was of Eddie Munson walking inside the Harrington villa, as pointed to by Dustin as a means of evidence, did little to provide any context of support to whatever it was he was avowing about this time. In many instances, those close to him knew to just let his diatribes continue without interference. The kid’s standards were impossibly high; people’s mistakes of simple wrongdoings were always criticized by his superiority. ‘“Oh, I’m just gonna head to the bathroom real quick.’” Dustin mimicked, mocking the voice of his Dungeon Master with dramatic gestures of flailing arms. A testament surely to get his character killed in next week’s campaign, should he have been caught by the man.
“Yeah, Dustin, that’s kinda, like, a natural occurrence in life.” Mike Wheeler deadpanned with a patronizing voice to annoy, as it’d been known to exasperate his friend. It’d even gained a couple laughs from the lounging bodies strewn about in the breadth of the gardened backyard.
Lucas Sinclair had jumped at the opportunity to prod further, barking a deafening cackle. “Yeah, remember that bomb you dropped after the school’s attempt to serve enchiladas?” He slapped his knee with joy. “You had the janitor running from the stalls!”
That one really got a good laugh out of everyone. But before Max could even venture at an attempt to cater for further details, Dustin struck on offense to defend his honor from the sharings of his intimate privacy, definitively emphasized with an agitated tone of vexation. “No, no! You pinky swore that you’d never speak of it! Do I need to tell everyone what Erica found under your bed?!” Old reliable; blackmail, the bargain of a lifetime.
“The hell is under your bed, man?” Steve pondered, flipping a seared patty with a slab of American cheese ready to go. If it was anything like what was under his bed, he’d surely want no one to know.
“Nothing!”
“What I thought.” Dustin muttered with a glare, as Lucas shrunk in his chair to evade any potential threats of further questions that lay on the tips of his friends’ nosy tongues. “But again, that is not what I am talking about.”
Always the civil one out of the Wheeler clan, Nancy reassuringly stepped up to support her brother’s friend in need, settling everyone down. “We’re sorry, Dustin, go ahead.” It was to be expected she’d gain a heartfelt thank you from Dustin Henderson, himself, once the debacle simmered and the turbulence had passed. Nancy Wheeler always did have a special place in the kid’s big heart, particularly after the caring gesture of the 1984 Hawkins Middle’s Snow Ball Dance.
“How can you all be so blind?!” Dustin seethed. “You’re telling me none of you find it even a little suspicious that Eddie just so happened to go to the 'bathroom' right after Y/N’s excuse of wanting to 'change,' like, hello?!” He huffed. “They’re totally screwing!”
Dustin Henderson felt devastatingly vanquished when a unanimous vote of disbelieving what’s hurtled his way with no mercy. He felt useless- undermined. Like the bag of Fritos left behind when children would rather fight over Doritos or Sour Cream n’ Onion Lays, rather than appreciate the artistry of a simple corn chip, left alone and forgotten until a last resort when moms took too long to make dinner; never to be cherished in the dark corner of the bulk size box of Frito-Lays. Of course, they wouldn’t believe him. They didn’t witness what he had to tragically witness. He heard it so vividly. So hauntingly vivid. Sometimes, it kept the poor boy up at night. Last week- last Friday- Hellfire’s Friday, such an exhilarating night now befouled by the auditory version of what he learned in the ninth grade compulsory course of sexual education.
How naive of him to believe your actions stemmed from the kindness of your heart; offering your chauffeuring abilities to pick up the freshman after their campaigns, sauntering inside with a sickeningly sweet smile to pair with your tender greetings, and always wanting to lend a helping hand to the Dungeon Master, because “it just seems like so much to clean.” Puh-lease! The signs had been flashing in his face. The ulterior motives screaming in his ear. What sane person deliberately chooses to waste their time picking up three boys revved up with excitement and sweat after the thrills of Dungeons and Dragon? Jesus, shit, it was Friday night, don’t you have any plans?! Yeah, plans to stick your tongue down their Dungeon Master’s throat. Tainting the sanctity of Hellfire with your debauchery.
Dustin Henderson had forgotten his dice. Sometimes, he wishes he would have just let the damn things go.
“God, baby, a quickie- let’s just do it right here real quick.” Eddie’s begging voice vibrated behind the closed door of the drama department, seeping through the open cracks beneath the door, all for Dustin’s ears to hear.
And he tried to give him the benefit of the doubt- the kid really did. Pet names were far from unusual by use of Eddie Munson. The one instance the Byers dropped back into Hawkins during Spring Break, it was no doubt Will the Wise had to get a taste of the new man running the show, and when Eddie had given Byers the innocent compliment of being such a sweetheart, the kid blushed into oblivion, stuttering a thank you in return. Hell, not to mention the infamous “big boy” that followed Steve Harrington around wherever the man took on motherly duties. So, Dustin brushed it off. But the moment had quickly transpired into something cringe worthy to the fourteen-year-old who didn’t know better. It should have been his cue to run, but the fiery design of his dice cost him six bucks of his chores earning, and they weren’t about to be discarded, as if the sweat of his forehead meant nothing from an afternoon of bending over the mop bucket to clean the kitchen floors.
There are moments at night when he speculates if this is the doings of the heavenly man above that his beloved, Suzie Bingham, always mentioned; punishing Dustin in consequence of eavesdropping on a private matter that surely was not intended to be heard. But can you really call it eavesdropping when you were merely trying to retrieve your dice? No! You can’t!
“They’re already waiting for me in the car.” You whined against his lips. The figurine that was poking your hip was the last thing accounted for in your mind, as Eddie had showcased you onto the wooden table of the prop room. Lips smeared against yours, his hand had squeezed a chunk of your meaty thigh, bringing you forth to keep you in close company. “We can’t.” Can’t what, huh? Find the dignity to do it outside of school grounds?! Freaks!
“Little shits.” Dustin had appallingly gasped at the insult, feeling the stabbing wound of betrayal hit him in the chest as you laughed along, hand clutched over his heart to appease the pain of such affliction. The dramatics. “Come to my place after.” Eddie delicately kissed loving pecks to your lips. “That way,” his finger trailed up your thigh, “we can have our alone time, and I can finally get a taste of that pretty pu-”
Dustin Henderson knew to run away at that point. Safe to say, the kid never got his dice back.
“Are you insane?!” Motherly hand on the hip, Dustin didn’t appreciate Steve’s disciplinary tone of voice, sounding too much like his mother, Ms. Claudia Henderson, for his liking, as everyone agreed with Harrington’s proclaimed delusion against the boy. “Munson doesn’t have the skills to screw, let alone someone as hot as her.” He chuckled in disbelief.
Oh, boy, was he wrong.
“Mm, j-just like that, uh!” Your pelvis pummeled into the sink, tainting the precisely picked pristine porcelain by Mrs. Harrington, herself, as Eddie rutted his hips into the dampness that was your bikini bottoms to chase a release that was on the brink of snapping.
It was your fault he claimed; prancing in a top and bottom that left little to the imagination. Accusations of your outfit being chosen to taunt him were thrown your way, and your faux innocence only cemented it further. “Fuck- fucking take it—ugh, s-shit—take this fucking cock!” How could this ever be seen as a punishment when your boyfriend was lighting your body on fire with the ecstasy of abusing your g-spot?
Perhaps having sex in the bathroom of your mutual friend was far from the ethical rules of friendship, but the act of secrecy had bred a burning excitement that neither of you could contain. And, given the fact that four weeks ago, Steve had poked fun at Eddie’s singleness—not that Steve had any room to joke, though, at least, “The King” was relishing in the funness of meaningless hookups, something Eddie surely didn’t partake in, he lovingly had you—so seeking revenge in fucking his hot girlfriend in his friend’s bathroom had stirred something menacing in Eddie’s head to truly not give a single care in what he was doing was wrong.
“Yes! Yes! I’m gonna cum, fuck!” Fingers tightening on the edge of the sink, your heart soared watching the reflection of Eddie’s mouth panting with want, as he fucked your pussy, ready to release his load deep inside. His hands had snaked to grab handfuls of your bouncing tits, groaning as he felt your nipples poke through the coldness of your wet bikini top.
His hips harshly snapped against your rippling ass. “Cum all over my cock- shit! C’mon, pretty girl, fucking soak me- take all o’ me!” It barely felt as though he was pulling out, merely drilling in deeper and deeper. “I’m gonna cum- fuck, fuck, fuck, fu-”
“They are totally screwing!” The curls of Dustin Henderson’s head were on the verge of being ripped out in frustration; all that work he so earnestly dedicated night and day to maintain the silky bounce was about to be all for nothing. “They are! I heard them!”
Wrong choice of words. “You were listening to them screw?!” Robin gagged, triggering an onslaught of ew’s and perv’s- well, really, Max Mayfield had been the only one calling her friend a perv, doing it in the relaxation of her lounging chair, teasing behind her newly gifted heart-shaped sunglasses.
“No! No!” Dustin shouted in clarification. “I wasn’t listening! I heard them talking about it!” He agonized. “They’ve been doing it for at least a week! Behind our backs!”
“Oh!” Max ventured. “Let’s bet, I say they’ve been engaged for four months, and are pregnant!” She heckled, now clearly just taking the piss out of him.
“Has the water gone from your ears to your brain?” Robin laughed in his face. Surely the kid was mistaken, right? Aside from her personal himbo—Steve hated the nickname—you and Nancy Wheeler had become her newfound best friends. You know, a united front against the boys, girl talk, the whole shebang about girl code? Secrets weren’t a thing between your three! Granted, Robin, herself, was harboring a pretty large secret that only her himbo knew of, but that was different! Boys were nothing, she would gladly hear about all her friends’ boy problems, indulging in the drama of long distance or whatever the hell there was to complain about, but girls?! Yeah, that was, uh, that was just something- a topic still unbreached… at least, until she was ready.
“Fine!” The boy heaved, bailing out on defending his stance any further. “You guys don’t wanna believe, that’s just fine.” He snided. “But when they come back, and Y/N hasn’t changed out of her bathing suit, you won’t be laughing now!” Dustin Henderson ended his tirade with an embittered bite to his burger, dramatically dropping into his pool chair.
They’d all learn soon, and bow down to him.
So now, everyone waited. Waited for the fateful moment that would either prove Dustin Henderson right or wrong. And unfortunately- for you and Eddie, at least, your steamy escapade on the sink of the Harrington bathroom had left you too dazed and forgetful in the post-orgasmic bliss that was heavy breaths and loving touches of aftercare to keep up with the said excuse of “changing out of wet clothes” that got you alone with Eddie Munson in the first place. So when you marched out, glowing and relaxed—exactly two minutes and thirty-four seconds after Eddie’s “bathroom break” (so thoughtfully executed)—in the same damp bikini that had your secret boyfriend riled up to begin with, everyone gasped.
“What?” You looked around confused.
Unbeknownst to you, Dustin Henderson took a cheesy bite of his burger, loudly sipping a carbonated gulp of his cold Coke, ready to snap his fingers for another round of meals for his peasant friends to fetch.
He was right.
-
Robin Buckley confirmed it next.
That Monday to come, Robin was staggering over the words of Dustin Henderson, and trying to piece the evidence presented to understand what was transpiring in your double life. The events after your return from “changing” left you confused by the jarring stares of six pairs of eyes testing you. Nancy, with the softest approach, had questioned you on the lack of new clothes on your body, to which your knight in shining armor—or accomplice—stepped up to save you from the army of prodding friends. “A knot in my hair, yeah, I distracted her to help me get a knot out of my hair.” Sure, Eddie, sure.
During the uproarious minutes of lunchtime, you’d been ready to get an afternoon break from school to fork through Hawkins High’s poor excuse as to what constitutes consumable food, when the sudden scrutiny from Robin Buckley began. And, my god, was she persistent.
In the comical marching band she suited, Robin Buckley had rushed her attempt to the first approach. “Hey, Robs. You think I can borrow your notes for Civics, I-”
“So, I hear Jonathan’s coming back from California next week!” Something about rashly eating the served cut peaches seemed to play up to the normal act Robin was going for, but truthfully, it just made you eye her strange behavior weirdly.
“Oh.” You accepted the out-of-nowhere information. Maybe you won’t do so good on Mr. Vortroski’s test on Supreme Court cases as you originally thought. “That’s great for Nance-”
“Isn’t it?!” The enthusiasm she was exerting was truly taking it over the top. But Robin Buckley had a heart for caring, and perhaps the excitement for her friend was really bubbling up today. “Nancy said they’ve been planning, like, a lot of dates, you know, to catch up on lost time?” You casually nodded along. “Single dates, double dates… and then I was thinking, hey!” She perked. “Y/N’s young and good looking! She’s probably seeing someone! So are you, I don’t know, seeing someone? Anyone? Tall, dark hair? Anyone?”
“Uh…” Yeah, maybe the hastiness of Robin’s impetuous nature wasn’t the best route to go with. “No, um, no I’m not seeing anyone.” You gave a tight-lipped smile. “Nance and Jonathan are gonna have to find someone else to double date with- oh, maybe Steve! What’s that girl's name he’s been seeing, Brenda? Beatrice? Actually, you know what, it’ll probably be really awkward to ask your ex-boyfriend on a double date with your current bo-”
“You’re seriously not seeing anyone?!” Robin’s brows furrowed with frustration. You were lying to her face- you were lying straight to your best friend’s face! “Nobody? No one?” You begrudgingly shook your head. “No thing?”
“Robin,” you chuckled, “is there something you want to tell me?” There were lots of things Robin Buckley wanted to tell you. Like, for starters, the newfound revelation that she likes how she looks with mascara, after you left yours on the dresser of her bedroom during your sleepover two weeks ago. She had no plans of returning it back to you, either. Or, possibly the fact that Bridget—the actual name of Steve’s newest lover—stole his Farrah Fawcett hairspray- or the fact that Steve uses Farrah Fawcett hairspray. Maybe the other thing, as in the strange occurrence that happens to her heartbeat whenever Vickie from chemistry happens to be around. Or, the other other thing, like the fact that she spent an obscene amount of minutes staring at cover of “Scissoring with Seduction” starring Roxie Rockett and Viola Diamond, after organizing the adult films section at Family Video- actually, scratch that, she’d never tell a soul about that, not even Steve Harrington.
“Is there something you want to tell me?” She shot back with fervency.
“No…?” Your questioning answer had your friend igniting her dramatic flare, slumping in her seat with a defeated huff. Dustin Henderson would surely be owed a duly apology. At this point, you’d like to say this weirded you out, but you lived in Hawkins, Indiana. You’ve seen weirder.
Evidently not sufficed with your response, your friend sat up onto perched elbows. “Y/N, you know you can tell me anything, right?” A sincere approach. Undoubtedly better. “Like, you don’t have to be afraid to tell me stuff. I won’t judge or anything.” Robin solemnly smiled at you.
Your tender hand squeezed her arm. “I know.” You beamed. “I hope you know that the same goes for you, Robs. If you ever have anything you need to tell me, I’ll always be here to listen to you. Probably give you way better advice than Stevie.” You both chuckled at the expense of Steve Harrington. Robin Buckley understood the feeling of not being ready for the world to know, because knowing would change the dynamics of life, and having the world suddenly perceive you in a way they never have before was scary.
Having the world hate you for the tender love you caressed your partner with was terrifying.
You’d tell her when you were ready, just as she would with you.
With a nod to her head, she patted your hand. “You know, I asked Steve once on tips to upgrade my look, and he legit told me to do my eyebrows like Pamela Anderson.”
“The himbo, himself, is too unknowledgeable to know that Miss Anderson is the only one capable of pulling off the blonde bombshell look. Though, I would love to see him with pencil brows and blue eyeshadow.” You both laughed, before you reached over to pinch her chin. “Plus, your beautiful self doesn’t need any changing, Robs. Anyone would be lucky to wake up next to it.”
Yeah, she’d simply tell you when she was ready, just as you would with her.
By three o’clock, Robin Buckley had been worn down by the insufferable compulsion that was Mr. Heizer’s fifth period calculus class. With the last day of school being around the corner, Robin wondered what warranted Heizer’s balding head to be so miserable that he felt the need to subject his students with the abuse of derivatives. Trudging her feet against the pavement of the Hawkins High parking lot, Steve Harrington had came into view, where he brandished himself atop the hood of his car. Not the most irregular of sights, given the systemic routine of drop off and pick-up that had been structured for Monday through Friday, though today, Dustin Henderson had managed to find Steve’s BMW through the array of parked cars, and was found yapping his ear off.
So sorely critical-looking, Robin couldn’t help but tiredly chuckle. “What’s with the wrinkles, kid?” She approached.
Dustin huffed, letting his arms dramatically drop to his side in desperation. “Steve won’t go along with my plan!”
“What are you even doing here, Dustin, isn’t your mother, like, first in line at the car riders pick-up?” She laughed.
Steve exasperated. “He waved off his poor mother, like the lunatic he is, just to track me down and tell her I was giving him a ride!” He answered, propelling Dustin to gasp with a snide.
“So we can talk about the plan!” Dustin provoked the Italian—that he probably didn’t actually have—within him, as his loose fist shook in Steve’s vicinity.
“What plan?” Robin interjected.
“The plan to expose Y/N and Eddie!” Dustin stressed.
“Eddie and Y/N are not screwing.” Steve deadpanned. “What happened Saturday was just… some fluke coincidence, not proof to anything, okay? So let it go, Dustin. Just face it, you were wrong.” He chuckled a very much unappreciated chuckle in Dustin’s face.
“I am not wrong! I know what I heard! How many times do I have to be right on the money for you all to just trust me?!” Neither Steve or Robin appreciated the numerous stares the freshman was gathering from leaving classmates and faculty.
“Okay, just calm down, alright.” Robin shushed. “You're right-”
“Ha!”
“But I don’t think we should do anything.” Dustin heaved, scowling at Robin as if she just committed sacrilege.
“Are you crazy? Of course, we should totally do something!” Dustin retorted. “This is big news! Two of our best friends are dating! You know what this means?! I could have parents, Robin, and you know I don’t have a dad, do you really want to be the reason I never have a dad?” A pointed finger targeted her.
Her hand worked swiftly to smack his accusing finger away. “Eddie is not your dad, Christ, he’s not dating your mom.” She annoyingly sighed.
“Yeah, and also, I’ve known you for way longer. If anyone’s gonna be your dad, it’s gonna be me, not Munson.” Steve exhorted with ire.
Dustin mockingly laughed. “Please, you and mother have the same hips.”
Robin Buckley and Dustin Henderson were too engrossed in their conversation to bring any of their attention to Steve Harrington’s insulted gasp. “Look, Dustin, I already tried asking Y/N about it, and she’s just not ready to talk about it.” She explained. “Let’s just drop it until they’re ready to tell us.”
“Okay, but we can help them talk about it.” The kid returned with retaliation. “You know how great it was to see Nancy and Jonathan finally get together?”
“Which came at my expense, by the way.” Steve scoffed. “Don’t know why that brings you such joy.”
“Well, this is Y/N and Eddie, it’s even bigger!” Dustin smiled. “Look, all I’m saying is that a little encouragement never hurt anybody.” Call the boy annoying, he already knew that, but his intentions were coming from good faith. The notion of helping his friends find love- or more so express it, had him bubbling with excitement. “And the only way to get this love story rolling is if we get them to crack.”
Steve groaned. “Meaning?”
“Meaning, we have to make them break first.” Dustin was beginning to get his crazy eyes, something about conspiring a plan had him menacingly smirking his enthusiastic grin. “You know, trick them into telling us.”
Robin sighed, drilling the palm of her hands into her eyes. “Okay, you know what? Do whatever you like, Dustin, but I will not be a part of this plan.”
“Of course, you will!” Dustin implored with desperate hands grabbing at her arms to shake with emphasis. “You’re the one who’s gonna have to flirt with Eddie.”
Robin and Steve blurted in disbelief. “What?!”
“Well, Steve can’t flirt with Y/N, she’ll never go for it.” Dustin rationalized.
“Woah, woah, wait a second, what makes you think she wouldn’t go for me?” Steve plowed on, his ego taking an obvious hit by a child six years his age. “I’m a total catch, the ladies love me!” He argued. “And Robin, she can’t flirt with Eddie, she’s… uh, well, she- she just can’t!” He stepped up to try to help his friend, much to Robin’s appreciation.
Dustin sighed, placing a tender hand upon Steve’s shoulder. “Look, Steve, you gotta get over this crush you have on Robin-”
“I do not have a crush on Robin!” Steve flung Dustin’s arm away. “And back to this ‘Y/N not going for me’ thing, I can totally flirt with her to get her to crack!”
Dustin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, as though he was the adult in this situation. “Steve, c’mon, she calls you himbo behind your back, she probably thinks you have no personality.”
“I have personality!”
“No, you have hair!”
In the midst of the commotion, Eddie Munson had sauntered his way out of the double doors, cigarette in hand to relinquish the stress brought upon him throughout the day. Despite the matter that his van had been haphazardly parked on the west end of the parking lot for reasons being that your pretty self always used the end doors for the less crowded purposes—sue him, he loved the view—there was always something about Steve Harrington and Dustin Henderson arguing that always brought happy entertainment for the metalhead.
“Trouble in paradise?” His croaking voice startled the group, as they all looked at him stunned. “Jesus Christ, what’s with the faces?” Eddie laughed, as his cigarette scraped along the wetness of lips.
“N-Nothing.” Robin awkwardly had to offer, forcing Eddie to raise a brow at her.
And then he spoke. Dustin fucking Henderson spoke. “Actually! Uh, R-Robin what were you saying about Eddie just now?” She snapped a deadly glare back at him, to which he gladly challenged with a grating smile that had Steve quietly laughing in the back.
“You talkin’ about me behind my back, Buckley? C’mon, I thought we were friends.” Eddie lightly jabbed, as he paid more attention to his lighter, which was taking multiple rounds of clicks until it ignited.
“Nothing.” She assured. “I said nothing.”
“No, no, you were saying something about his outfit.” Dustin encouraged. God, how ethical was it to beat up a child? “About how he… looks nice.”
Robin sighed, as Eddie gave her a lighthearted smile. “Thanks, Rob, I’m really liking those patches.” He pointed to her sweater, finding nothing but the innocence of friendship in her supposed compliment.
“A-And something about his large muscles.” A curl of his hair was absentmindedly twirled as to appear uninvolved in the scheme of his mischief, and right as Eddie’s eyes left Dustin with a confused stare, the kid’s arm shoved Robin’s back to coach her further.
So, Robin Buckley, simply accepted. Though, tapping into her retired career of one year in drama club when she got the gracious role of playing Mrs. Soames in last year's production of Our Town proved to lack any skills training, when attempting to flirt with Eddie Munson had her stuttering like a child learning to speak. Then again, playing Mrs. Soames in Our Town didn’t exactly require her to flirt with her friend’s secret boyfriend who was a man!
“Y-Yeah, Eddie, uh, that m-material.” Robin bunglingly smiled, as a stiff hand touched the leather of his coat. “O-Oh, well, hello, Mr. B-Bicep.” She mentally prepared herself for the moment Steve Harrington would belittle her to death for her lack of flirting skills whenever this mess was over. “You’ve been, uh, working out?”
Attempting to give her the benefit of the doubt, Eddie chose to assuage the painful discomfiture with his casual sarcasm. “Ah, well, I try to, y’know, squeeze things.” Eddie recoiled at her over-the-top laugh that appeared too similar to that of Heidi Wilson’s, when she ran into him and Steve in the food court of Starcourt Mall last week, looking to allure his friend with whatever screech that was. “You okay?”
“Uh-”
“She’s just having guy problems.” Dustin interjected, much to Robin’s dismay. Never. Never in a million years would Robin Buckley ever have guy problems. “Go on, tell him.”
Yeah, Dustin Henderson wouldn’t see the age sixteen. “Well, uh, you know how you’re s-sometimes just looking for something, a-and don’t even realize that it’s, um, right there in front of you... s-smoking a cigarette?”
Eddie looked down at the lit cigarette in his mouth, and quickly stepped back in panic, all while Steve Harrington’s cheeks puffed with laughter, as his sealed lips worked overtime to not guffaw out loud. “U-Um, yeah, okay, I’m gonna go.” Eddie could only spare a quick glance to Robin, before throwing everyone a small wave goodbye.
Robin Buckley watched him walk away for two seconds, before slowly turning to Dustin Henderson, where he was met with her twitching eye. “You have five seconds to run.”
His mouth fell gape. “But wait, Steve’s my ride-”
“Five!”
That Monday afternoon, Dustin Henderson spent forty-five grueling minutes walking the three mile hike to his home, as punishment per Robin Buckley’s request. And yes, she did wave him goodbye, when Steve Harrington’s BMW swiftly passed him on the way over.
-
Steve Harrington confirmed it next.
And maybe was a little asshole about it.
Benny’s Burger had become the choice of dinner for the mundane Monday night he was currently enduring, because Eddie Munson refused to hit up the bar, despite the common courtesy that buying beers had become for the twenty-year-old men. At the very least, greasy burgers with a cigarette to follow would be the accommodation Eddie Munson could offer, since Steve Harrington had lost his weekly hookup, because his personal wingman decided to fall into a secret relationship- presumably. Steve was choosing to balance on the fence of whether or not to believe the words of a fourteen-year-old, mostly because if he did, Steve Harrington would become subjected to the sanctimonious behavior of a cocky teenager.
And who would want that?
“Lemme do a double cheeseburger with extra pickles, uh, no tomatoes, please. Ooh, with a side of cheese fries, a strawberry shake, and I’ll get that with a Coke, too. Thanks, Benny.” Steve eyed his friend. God, that man could eat. The bustling fan that chilled Benny’s sweaty neck had proffered a wonderful alternative to the sweltering humidity that tinted the large windows with fog. Aside from the burly trucker consuming the two cups of coffee to keep him awake for the night, Steve had all respective authority to slyly grill his buddy on whatever friends-with-benefits-slash-potential-boyfriend-girlfriend dynamic he shared with you.
Fuck it. “Uh, might as well do the same, Ben, what he said.” The laminated menu went unskimmed, closed off, and collected for the owner to take.
Assuring the boys their meals would follow out quickly, they met Benny with gracious thank you’s for the service, and Steve Harrington rashly followed the movements of the older gentleman, until his being was out of ear shot, promptly snapping his head back to his friend. “Why didn’t you wanna go to the bar tonight?!” If a sign as to why Robin Buckley and Steve Harrington were soulmates, for whatever reason, needed to be clearer than it already was, the incaution- not so subtle “subtle” approach was reason enough.
“Uh,” Eddie hummed, forcing Steve’s eyes to narrow in return, “I dunno, just didn’t wanna go for drinks tonight.” He shrugged, flicking at a sugar packet he had no intentions of using.
Steve raised a brow. “Really?”
The incredulous tone was quite too bitchy for Eddie’s liking, who merely scoffed. “Can’t a guy care about his liver?”
“Ed, there’s a pack of cigarettes hangin’ in your pocket.” Steve deadpanned. “Think organ functionality is the least of your worries.” Unwelcoming to the implied suspicion of accusation behind Steve’s comment, Eddie simply chose to stay silent, finding more interest playing with the provided condiments as trinkets for his entertainment. Steve rolled his eyes. “Y’know, I saw Myra at the laundromat not too long ago.” He scratched his clean shaven chin, playing into his nonchalant bit, that only left Eddie to raise his eyebrows in confusion as to where this was going. “She looked nice; got her hair done, these pretty, little braids, y’know, with the gold cuffs and whatnot.”
Eddie’s head lolled, enjoying the simple task of his finger tracing the obscured lines of the faux granite table top, when the ketchup label had been read to its entirety. “So?”
“So,” Steve emphasized, “you coulda called her up, y’know, tell her to meet you tonight. How long has it been since you’ve seen her- or any girl for that matter?” He slyly asked.
“Not interested.” Blunt and suffice, surely enough to ward off anymore of Steve’s prodding questions.
But Steve merely scoffed. “What, in girls anymore?”
And in true Eddie Munson fashion, a shit-eating grin consumed his face, devious smile lines and all, as he leaned on perched forearms to invade Steve’s space. “Aw, why? You interested, big boy?”
Yeah, this conversation would be going nowhere.
As the sparing minutes filled to meaningless conversations, their full course dinners made the quick arrival, and Steve pondered at the various ways a confession could be pummeled out of Eddie Munson’s mouth, which was currently being stuffed to the brim with mushing bites of each food group—minus the vegetables, this was Benny’s Diner after all. There was the ex-fling route, but clearly Eddie wasn’t looking to explore that again; good news for you, at least. That is if anything Henderson claimed was actually true. Little shit-
But wait a minute, that was it! What would Dustin Henderson do?!
He could still hear his grating voice. "Well, Steve can’t flirt with Y/N, she’ll never go for it." As if. Steve Harrington could get you- hell, Steve Harrington could get anyone. Graduating out of the social hierarchy of high school totally hasn’t affected his game… totally. But digressing, if Dustin Henderson could scheme up a plan with no substance, Steve Harrington could, too. If anything, this would make so much more sense, given that Robin doesn’t even like boys. Dustin Henderson didn’t know anything, but Steve, yeah Steve Harrington was way more cunning than some snappy child with no regard for people’s business. Yeah, Steve Harrington could totally do this…
Eddie’s chewing slowed, brows cinched, as he wondered why the hell Steve Harrington had been silently smiling to himself for the past minute. And people saw him as a freak? Fucking weirdo.
“Hey, uh,” Steve cleared his throat, presumably back to being normal, allowing Eddie to continue to shove his face with a strawberry milkshake covered cheese fry, unperturbed by Steve’s judgemental grimace, “I’m thinkin’ of askin’ out Y/N.”
Suddenly caught in his throat, Eddie began coughing up the fry he just downed, as Steve smiled with such amusement at the torment he just caused his friend. Maybe Henderson was right. “W-What? You wanna what?”
“Yeah, been thinkin’ about it, and y’know, I’m really feeling her.” Steve cocked a smirk that had Eddie’s face scrunching with agitation. “Very smart, funny, really fucking pretty, so…”
“I d-don’t, um- you really think that’s a g-good idea?” Eddie adjusted in his seat, composing the bubbling feeling that stirred terribly with the monstrosity he had just eaten.
Taking a large bite from his burger, Steve grinned happily. “Why wouldn’t it be?” Hunger and entertainment wonderfully satiated on this peaceful, late Monday night.
Eddie shrugged, sulkingly throwing a stray pickle in his mouth. “I dunno, you’re just friends n’ all.” He mumbled.
“Oh!” Steve’s eyes gleamed with laughter behind them. “You don’t think friends should date-”
“No, no, no, no!” God, the last thing Eddie was about to do was inadvertently claim your relationship was some end all be all cataclysm, but did it really have to come at the expense of encouraging his friend to date his secret girlfriend?! “I-I mean, like, some friends c-can date, like, um, good friends-”
“So, me and Y/N?” Steve quietly chuckled to himself, as he watched Eddie fret with frustration.
“No- I mean, I dunno!” He exasperated, as Steve relished in his greasy food with a smile on his face. Eddie’s heart began sinking into his stomach. He understood how demeaning it would be to conclude you as the type to jump into Steve’s arms once he’d make the “inevitable” move. God, for once in his life someone with care to proffer promised him fundamental security, and there was no denying it, he felt. Felt it in your caressing hands, your saccharine words, your devoted kisses, your gentle touches- you touched with such love… at least, that's what it felt like. Does Eddie Munson even know love? He swallowed thickly. “D-Do you even think she would go for you-”
“I have personality!” Steve proclaimed, finger pointed and all, forcing Eddie to shove back in surrenderance, hands in the air, and a confused look to pair.
“Okay, I’m not sayin’ you don’t, geez.” Eddie clarified, as Steve huffed, raking a harsh hand through his Farrah Fawcett hairsprayed perfection. “J-Just maybe don’t. Like, um, i-if it doesn’t work out, it could get really bad between you two, a-and it would be fucking horrible not to have her in your life at all, you can’t lose her, man.”
Voice so small and eyes so distant, there was a deep inkling that perhaps Eddie was speaking his fears aloud. Because even in the greatness that was having the privilege of calling you his girlfriend, there was a world full of Steve Harringtons that could provide you with more than what any Eddie Munson ever could. Late at night, when the world could finally offer you both the peace to just be, entangled in arms and legs, Eddie would just stare at you and… know. Know that there is a feeling that scares the living shit out of him that he can’t feel for anyone else. A different type of feeling from the camaraderie of his club, who triumph against the evil of the universe. A different type of feeling from the shoulders he’s cried on of his uncle, because Eddie truly cannot thank him enough. You, you were a different type of feeling. One that left him just wanting to look at you, smell you, touch you, think of you all day.
This wasn’t just infatuation, god, it felt like pure fucking lo- shit, what would he know. Eddie Munson didn’t know love.
A sudden wave of regret washed over Steve, as he realized the saddened roundness of his buddy’s eyes. “Nah, man, that’s not gonna happen.” His calm voiced reassured. “I mean, it’s Y/N, why would she ever allow that to happen? Y’know, so what, things don’t work out between… me and her,” he explicated, “doesn’t mean your- I mean, our friendship has to change.” Steve watched, as Eddie nodded along, shoulders slumping in relaxation. “We talk it out, we understand each other, and we move on as friends. Together. We’ll still love each other like that. And, hey, at least we’ll both get a hot hookup out of it.” Okay, maybe he was still being a little shit, but he was only channeling his inner Henderson. Plus, the snapping glare from Eddie was quite priceless.
“Are you really gonna make a move on Y/N?” His jaw ticked with clenched teeth.
“I dunno.” Steve smiled, before snapping his fingers with a brilliant revelation, “Y’know what, I saw Robin flirting with you earlier today, how ‘bout we go on a double date?” Yeah, now he was definitely just teasing. “Hell, make it a triple one once Byers and Wheeler head back into town.”
Eddie rolled his eyes. “Robin was not flirting with me, she was just being… weird.” He pondered it for a second. What the hell was that that happened this afternoon? There’s no way she actually- no, impossible. Could she? No, that didn’t feel right. Well, maybe-
“Hey, do you actually think I have personality?” Oh, Stevie.
-
On Tuesday evening, the Family Video store saw the little customers it was regularly accustomed to; Mr. Fredrickson, only to be accounted for, slowly roamed the documentary section, particularly interested in the historical segment for his afternoon leisure.
The nub of his cane poked an indent into the carpeted floors, as his supported weight allowed for close inspection of the bolded titles that plastered in an array of colors. Luckily, the lens of his glasses were thick enough to provide him the ability of sight to read what was on display for night, leaving you to mindlessly thumb through this month's issue of Cosmopolitan. “Hm.” Mr. Fredrickson gruffed. “What d’ya make of the Franco-Prussian War, darlin’?”
The Proven Personal Approach to Permanent Weight Loss. An Incredible Shrinking Woman Tells How She did it! Christ. You found more interest flipping back to the written Cosmo’s quiz determining what kind of husband your current rendezvous would make.
“Uh…” Your back was beginning to ache from finding all support on your perched elbow digging into the counter, letting your cheek fall to your palm. “You did the Napoleonic Wars last time, no? Why don’t you give the French a break?” You skimmed the printed words of the glossy pages.
His wrinkled pointer finger shakingly racked through the tapes, as he took your word of advice. Your eyes were hanging onto the last bit of energy they were enduring to stay awake, but the weight of eyelids inevitably began to win, and it surely didn’t help that the liveliness of your thriving life was partaking in conversations with an elderly man who found amusement in learning about wars.
But before a potential write up—Keith never found the actual courage to do so, loved to threaten it, though—for sleeping on the job could be scolded, the welcoming bell of the front door rang loudly enough to alert some life back into your body.
“Welcome to Family Vide-euuawghh.” A guttural yawn ripped out of you, slurring your standardized greeting into an embarrassing mush of sounds.
With watery eyes scrunched from tiredness, a rushed apology to your incoming customer had proved to fall unnecessary, as a familiar chuckle addressed you back. “Aw, such rigorous labor, working my baby to death, huh?” Eddie Munson, himself, teased, as he leaned to hover over the counter and close to your sluggish face.
“Don’t tease me.” Your mouth jutted in offense, as you rubbed your eyes to the clear sight of being welcomed by Eddie’s bourbon eyes and a smug curl to his lips.
His rough-tipped thumb caressed the hairs of your brow to ease. “How can I not when it gets you to make that cute pout at me, hm?”
You piqued with giddiness. “Because I’m your girlfriend.” A label you quickly learned to adore. “And you shouldn’t be mean to your girlfriend.”
Eddie smiled a breathy chuckle, as he peered at your lips. “Yeah, you are my girlfriend, huh?” He proudly verbalized with a husk to his tone. His mouth was itching to say more, pour out all he felt for the girl standing before him, but a counter the size of the world divided the union between two beating hearts of devotion. And manifesting his words of love paved the way for the potential loss of you. But not doing so also did the same. Because he’s learned good things don’t last for Eddie Munson. And what a unless world it would be to lose the profoundness of you.
God, he wanted to punch Steve Harrington for last night.
Eddie took a deep breath. His bangs landed against your forehead, and scrunched under your nod of confirmation. You are his girlfriend. “Where’re the other two stooges?” He whispered, his breath fanning across your face.
“In the back doing inventory.” You gladly answered the words Eddie wanted to hear. He bashfully leaned in, though before his mouth could meet yours, you pulled back with furrowed brows. “Wait, ‘other two stooges,’ am I the third?”
Eddie barked out a boyish laugh, as he watched your faux face of aversion and shock. His large hands made your face feel small as he cupped your cheeks and brought you forth. “God, you’re so pretty.”
His lips crashing upon yours had wiped your expression of any annoyance you tried to playfully brat out. His mouth moved against yours so languidly, it had you falling limp to his kiss, as he expressed all that he felt with the touch of his lips. Eddie pulled away slowly, leaving you to quietly hum in retaliation and chasing his lips.
“Sorry.” He chuckled, providing you with one more loving peck. “But, hey, y’know, speaking of the other stooges, uh, Robin and Steve,” he cleared his throat, “you notice anything weird about ‘em, like lately?”
The cafeteria. “Um, yeah, actually.” You contemplated on the thought. “Why, did they say something?”
Nausea hit him like a truck, wondering if "The Hair’s" attempts to get at you were already happening quicker than expected. “S-Steve, he, uh, he said something to you?” Eddie felt his throat dry up.
“Steve? No, Steve’s been Steve, but I was mostly talking about Robin.” Jesus Christ, did you bring peace to his world.
“Oh, yeah,” He puffed a breath of relief, “um, weirdest thing happened after school yesterday, but I think Robin was hitting on me.” Confusion had been written all over your face, as you pulled back from the counter. “She was, like, totally into me.”
“What?” You chuckled. “No, not possible.”
“Okay, ow.” Eddie playfully rolled his eyes, as you laughed, rubbing a soothing hand down his arm in apology.
“I’m sorry, didn’t mean it like that” you giggled, “but I’m sure you probably just misread things, you know? Robin finds you charming in a platonic way, like with Steve.”
Eddie straightened up. “No, I’m telling you, sweetheart, she was all over me.” He persisted. “I mean, for crying out loud, she was touching my bicep.”
A smug smile took over your face, as you arched your brow at him. “This bicep?” You teasingly squeezed his soft arm.
Eddie scoffed. “Well, it’s not flexed right now.”
The back storage unit of Family Video had been littered with an influx of tapes, both coated in dust to be long forgotten and pristine with the newest release of what Hollywood had to offer. This year’s box office hit Top Gun starring Nancy Wheeler’s poster boy, Tom Cruise, or the fourteen-year-old The Ruling Class with the musical humor following a priest’s death due to his autoerotic asphyxiation kink? Robin Buckley laughed. Always the latter.
“God, can’t believe Keith expects us to organize this junk.” Steve huffed, swiping his palms against each other, only to scowl at the specks of dust that floated into the air under the beaming sunlight. “I should be seeing Bridget right now, or Heidi, or taking out Linda, maybe Jeanie, haven’t talked to her in a minute.” Robin rolled her eyes at the endless sex-capades that was Steve Harrington’s love life. Christ, she couldn’t even get a clear sign that Vickie from chemistry wasn’t standing so straight. “Or-or maybe Y/N.” He chuckled to himself.
“What?” Robin prodded.
“Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you, last night I was completely bugging out Munson, and told him I was planning on askin’ out Y/N.” Steve laughed, briefly coughing as dust particles blew off the VHS tapes.
Robin was only left deadpanning in disappointment. “You did what now?” She scoffed. “You’re supposed to be on my side, I thought we were supposed to let it go?”
“You’re the one flirting with your friend’s boyfriend.” He argued.
“Because that little twerp forced me to!” The Ruling Class came hurdling to his chest, as she chucked it.
Shoving old movies aside, Steve grappled onto the box of new releases to shove into Robin’s arms, as he handled the second load. “Look, it doesn’t matter anymore, there are no sides, as much as I hate to admit it, Henderson was right about those two screwing.” Steve enthused. “You should’ve seen the look on Eddie’s face when I told him I was gonna make a move on Y/N.”
Robin huffed. “Okay, so let’s just leave it at that and let them screw in peace- or, even better yet, let’s just tell them we know, so they can have the freedom to do what they want.”
“Aw, but where’s the fun in that?” Steve whined.
Robin laughed at his childish mewl. “And, unless Munson gets rid of the thing in his pants and learns to grow a cup or two, I am not flirting with him again.” She playfully gagged, while reminiscing on yesterday’s events.
“Please,” Steve derided, “you can’t even look Vickie in the eye, I highly doubt if Munson suddenly grew some tits you’d become some sort of Casanova.” He snorted, opening the door. “Mr. Bicep?”
Before Robin’s sneaker could step foot back into the main lobby of Family Video, Steve’s grasp onto the collar of her shirt flung her back into the storage room, with a slam to the door. “Are you inane?!” She chastised, while attempting to find her balance with a ten pound box of VHS tapes.
“Munson’s out there!” He whisper-yelled into her face.
“Okay, so?”
“So, we gotta get in there, and stir the pot a little.” His brows danced impishly against his forehead.
Robin’s face dropped vacantly. “What about anything that I literally just said didn’t click for you?” A smack against his head from her hand had him reeling back in defense.
“Ow, okay, I get it, Munson doesn’t have boobs.” Steve huffed, rubbing out the dulling pain. “But, look, Dustin wasn’t that far off, a little encouragement doesn’t harm anyone. He thinks that you like him and that I like her, you’re telling me this isn’t even a little funny to you?” My god, did Steve Harrington have a charming way of flaunting that stupid smirk that had Robin hold back a chuckle. Because in retrospect, Eddie Munson believing his lesbian friend had a crush on him, while her partner in crime, her himbo, had a supposed liking to his secret girlfriend was quite funny. Funny like a priest dying from his autoerotic asphyxiation kink.
She sighed, giving him a pointed glare. “One time, Harrington. This is the one and only time I will ever flirt with a man again.”
Steve threw his hands up in defense, as a smile lingered on his face. “Highly doubt there will ever be a time in which I ask you to do that again.” He laughed, while slinging the door open. “Plus, it’s Munson. I’m sure his cynicism won’t even count it as flirting.”
“Well, Y/N's flirting surely worked.” She joked, as they stepped out.
“You think it’s because he has personality or nice hair?” Steve interrogated. “Because I sure as hell have way better hair than him.”
Despite your alluring face, Eddie caught a glimpse of Steve and Robin making their way over while looking past your shoulder, forcing him to make the regretful decision to back away from you. “Ed.” Your tiny pout of confusion made it all that harder, until Steve’s voice boomed out.
“Hey, y’know, as a customer, you’re supposed to actually rent something!” Him and Robin joined you both at the counters, where they sat the boxes of movies. “Or, you could, y’know, stock shelves with us.”
Eddie flipped him the bird, as he smiled. “Actually, I was just stoppin’ by to ask if Halloween is still rented out.” He turned to look down at you with a smirk. “Is it?”
“I can go check that for you.” Your sweet customer service voice had him biting back a grin, as you stepped away to the computer.
As Steve and Robin began displacing films from the boxes, his elbow nudged her side to grab her attention away from organizing. “Just keep it casual.” He whispered, as she rolled her eyes. “Look, I’m sure if you unfocus your eyes, the five o’clock shadow will go away, and he’ll totally look just like Vickie.” And he huffed right back when Robin rightfully scoffed at him. “What? They have the same eyes… just, y’know, different color… and shape.”
Robin waved him off before anything further could come out of his mouth. With The Fly nestled in her grasp, Steve threw her a nod of encouragement, before scurrying to the shelves with a small laugh escaping his lips.
“Sorry, Eds.” You clicked off the computer. “Landon K. beat you to it; no Halloween.”
“Should totally check out The Fly.” Robin slyly imposed, as she handed him the film. “Can never go wrong with some Cronenberg, right?” Eddie inspected the film with a shrug. “Sure, better than taking movie suggestions from Harrington.”
There came the inordinate laugh from Robin that had Eddie throwing you a knowing glance, and Robin, herself, internally dying inside. “Ha! Always so funny!” She clumsily fist-bumped his arm. “Uh- anyway! Better get back to work.” A large smile flashed both your ways.. “I, uh, I’ll see you later… handsome.” And following in the footsteps of her grandmother when she wasn’t screaming something batshit crazy, Robin Buckley pinched Eddie Munson’s cheek before running away to Steve Harrington.
“You pinched his cheek?!” Steve contemptuously chortled in her frazzled face that burned with embarrassment.
Robin’s hands smack her face, dragging the skin down, as she groaned. “Well, I don’t know how to do the whole flirting thing!” Her fist came smacking down at his chest.
Steve bent at the waist with a cramping stomach of laughter “Okay, yeah, but he’s not a baby!”
Your eyes followed Robin’s running figure until she disappeared into the maze of shelves, and you incredulously turned to your stunned boyfriend. With his mouth wide, and eyes bulging, Eddie fretfully spoke. “Okay, did you see that?! With the compliment, and the pinching?!”
You bewilderedly settled at the realization. “Actually, I did.” You couldn’t believe it. Your best friend was flirting with you boyfriend- well, technically, she had no clue he was your boyfriend, but still- Eddie? Not to sell your boyfriend short, god, he was perfect in every way, but Robin? Robin and Eddie?!
“Okay, so now do you believe that she’s attracted to me?” He persisted.
You thought for a second, and Eddie Munson watched your face drop with concern, as your hand clutched your chest. “Oh, my god! Oh, my god! She knows about us!” You cautiously warbled, as you began pacing about behind the counter.
Eddie’s face scrunched with distress. “Are you serious?”
“Robin knows, and she’s just trying to freak us out!” You belabored, anxiously looking back to where Steve and Robin could no longer be seen. Your hands dramatically dropped at the revelation. “That’s the only explanation for it!”
Eddie vacillated at the unwarranted insult. “Okay, but what about my pinchable face and bulging biceps?” He confidently pointed to his arm, before the lacking muscle of scrawiness suddenly hit him like a truck. “She knows!”
Your hand comically slapped the counter, as you chuckled in disbelief at her attempt to fool you. “Oh, man, she probably thinks she’s so slick for messing with us.” Eddie joined in, frenziedly laughing, completely feeling stupefied, though giving props to the mastermind, nonetheless. Impressed he was. “But, hey, you know what? She doesn’t know we know she knows, so…”
“Ah, yes!” Eddie piqued with interest. “The messers become the messees!”
-
“You sure you kids are alright?” Shrugging on his utility jacket for the night, the aging lines of Wayne Munson’s forehead scrunched with suspicion for the nightly activity his nephew and his supposed “friend” were going to be up to.
Sure, the sight of you over at his trailer wasn’t something peculiar, in fact, for the past months, you, in particular, were the only one of Eddie’s buddies who made a regular appearance to their humble abode. Why? Well that was a question that still went unanswered whenever Wayne tried to prod into the life of his nephew. But the way Eddie would blush, while simultaneously attempting to quickly change the subject, made Wayne’s throat tickle with a chuckle.
Who the hell were you two fooling?
But now, with much concern from Wayne, it seemed as though Eddie’s oddities had begun rubbing off on you, as you both strangely huddled around the yellow home phone, clearly waiting for the second Wayne would close the door behind, as he left for the graveyard shift.
Attempting to “casually” lean against the paneling of the wall, Eddie’s head was quick to snap up and down in return. “Yeah, yeah.” He rushed. “Better get goin’, don’t wanna be late for the bosses.” He threw an overcompensating smile, as you sat at the kitchen table, merely following suit to that of your “friend.” Wayne Munson couldn’t care less about the bosses.
“Alright then.” The old man huffed, picking up the keys of his pick-up truck, letting the humid spring breeze waft through the front door. “Get ‘er some dinner if you’re makin’ ‘er stay late.”
“As always.” Eddie threw you a sly wink, as Wayne left with a quick exchange of goodbye thrown from both parties, until the front door finally closed.
At the click, you sprung from your chair, snatching the phone out of the receiver to hand to Eddie, to which he happily grabbed with a maniacal snicker. “You sure she’s over at Steve’s?”
Your fingers were fervent with the harsh press to the buttons, dialing the numbers to phone the Harrington residence. “Uh huh, something about watching Fast Times with Robin.” The second your finger pressed down on the last digit, you were quick to maneuver the phone against Eddie’s ear. “Okay, just stick to the script.”
Eddie scoffed, flipping his hair back. “Sweetheart, please, I was able to get you, I sure as hell can get Robin.” Your hand met his chest with a chastising slap. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” He laughed.
Up the road, on the secluded sector of Cornwallis Street, Robin Buckley was anxiously plowing through a bowl of popcorn, as the fifty-second minute was fastly approaching, and suddenly Phoebe Cates was climbing out of the pool with the detrimental ambience of teenage horniness.
“Here it comes, here it comes!” Steve snickered, as he absentmindedly chewed on a licorice piece.
Robin’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “God, Steve, you don’t have to point out the obvious!” But after forcing her friend to endure two hours and thirty-four minutes of the satirical musical critique of institutional religion that was The Ruling Class, Steve decided to return the torture by subjection of… boobies.
“What I’m point out is the fact that Vickie lived through this exact moment, meaning she was staring at boobies, meaning-”
“Don’t say it!”
“Vickie likes boobies!” Steve implored, the largest grin on his face, as he watched Robin slap her hands onto her face at a brutal attempt to shield herself from the mortifying experience that was having Steve Harrington as a friend.
But, in slow motion, as Phoebe Cates’ fingers clutched onto the center hook of her bikini bra, the phone shrilled, allowing Robin to exhale a “thank god,” as Steve’s attention begrudgingly turned to the incoming call.
Swiftly jumping to the end table, Steve picked up the brick phone. “Yeah, hello?” He spoke, munching on another rope of his candy, surely missing the quick glances Robin was making back at the TV. Steve’s brows piqued at the static voice. “Oh! Yeah, she’s right here!” Turning to Robin, his hand cupped over the speaker, as he giddily shoved the phone to her. “It’s Eddie, he’s probably gonna cave in.” He whispered.
Rolling her eyes, Robin cleared her throat from any stray popcorn kernel, ready to end this once and for all. “Hello?”
Back at Forest Hills, your toes pressed against the linoleum tiling of the kitchen floor to push yourself up to his height, smushing your ear against the other side of the phone, as mischievous smiles consumed both your faces. “Hello, Robin… I’ve been thinkin’ about you all day.” Eddie channeled his most suave voice, forcing you to bite back a laugh, suppressing your mouth into his shoulder.
“Huh?!” Devious as ever, both you and Eddie almost broke at her considerable shock.
Steve raised a questioning brow, attempting to scoot closer, only for Robin to preserve her personal bubble and shove him back. Much to his nosey dismay. “Well, y’know that thing you said before, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued.” Eddie teased, as you nodded your head along to show your proudness for your boyfriend flirting with your friend.
Yeah, things in Hawkins, Indiana surely were weird.
“R-Really?” Robin choked, as the popcorn in her stomach suddenly turned at the uneasiness of male attention. Gross.
Ever the villain, Eddie smiled triumphantly. “Yeah, listen my uncle isn’t gonna be here tonight, so why don’t you come over, and I’ll let you, uh, feel my bicep… or maybe more.” You quietly chuckled. God, what a cute loser.
Robin grimaced, stuttering with concern. “Uh, you know, I-I’ll have to get b-back to you on that, uh, okay, bye!” She was quick to hang up the phone, while you and Eddie intimately celebrated in the lonesome of his kitchen with silly squeals and tiny jumps. “Oh, my god! He wants me to come over to feel his bicep and more!”
Steve Harrington was left speechless at Robin’s panicked announcement, as his mouth hung wide. “Are you kidding?!”
“No!” She gagged. “I know what I heard!”
Steve felt incredulously at the scumminess of his friend. “I cannot believe he would do that to… wait a second.” His brows furrowed. Eddie Munson nearly launched at the chance to shut down any ideas of Steve dating you, why on Earth would he suddenly- oh, shit. “They know!”
“What?!”
“They know that we know!” Steve clarified, as the gears in Robin’s head turned, until her face was enlightened with the fact of the matter which was that her best friend was trying to deceive her right back!
She gasped. “I can’t believe those two!” Instantaneously, any reservations Robin initially had for Steve and Dustin’s plan had left, as all she felt was dramatic offense at the idea of trying to be demeaned.
“They thought that they could mess with us?!” Steve proclaimed.
“They’re trying to mess with us?!” In disbelief, both friends chuckled with bewilderment at the unexpected slyness coming from you two. That was, until Robin Buckley schemed with realization. “They don’t know we know they know we know!”
Steve’s face scrunched with confusion, though nonetheless a team player, he nodded along, giggling at Robin’s wicked implication. Suddenly, a call to the Henderson household was in need.
Dustin Henderson’s calves burned under the rigorous strain of bike riding from the northern end of Cornwallis street to reach Steve’s house. Haphazardly disposing his bicycle in the driveway, Dustin had barged in with no warning, coming face-to-face with Robin Buckley, resident polyglot band geek, wearing Mrs. Harrington’s blue cocktail dress, as Steve Harrington, retired king of Hawkins High, played makeup artist with his mother’s newly bought red lipstick in hand.
It was undeniable at this point, Hawkins, Indiana was most definitely weird.
“Would you just quit moving, so I can put this on you?!” The vein on Steve’s forehead became pronounced under the immense pressure he felt. Being a makeup artist surely wasn’t easy, especially when your client was nagging about the intense blush placement of his work.
“Enough with the makeup, it’s Eddie for Christ sake!” Robin complained, enduring the endeavor of trying to shove Mrs. Harrington’s shoes onto her feet. God, why was the woman’s shoe size so small?!
“Really Steve?!” Robin and Steve jumped at the intruding voice of Dustin, as the kid stood with his hands on his hips, imitating the signature pose of the man before him. “That’s totally not her color, you’re making her look like a clown!”
Both parties scoffed, rightfully offended.
Robin pushed Steve away, rubbing her cheeks harshly to blend out the monstrosity that was Steve’s makeup skills. “Okay, this is plenty!” She stressed. “We’re gonna call him, we’re gonna get that date, and we’re gonna win!”
The boys cheered, Dustin more so heavily appreciative of this new Buckley mentality, as they circled around her when she reached for the phone. “Mm! You better grab a spring roll before I eat ‘em all.” Eddie’s crowded mouth of mashed vegetables spoke. Chinese had been delivered in the wake of your celebration, congratulating both of you for your—mostly Eddie—duplicitously clever work.
In the midst of diving into your tangled lo mein, the phone shrilled, which had Eddie springing from the couch. “Probably calling back to surrender!” You cheered, as Eddie snickered, sliding his socked feet into the kitchen. “Good job on creeping her out, babe!”
Eddie bowed, accepting whatever weird kind of praise that was, before answering the phone with a muffled mouth of spring rolls. “Hello?”
“Be sexy.” Steve encouraged, eliciting a scoff from Robin, as she turned her focus onto the phone call.
“Hi!” Both terribly displeased with her lack of commitment, Robin was met with strict glares from Dustin and Steve to amp it up… so, she did. Clearing her throat, she dropped an octave to obtain the sultriness of what she could only assume Roxie Rockett and Viola Diamond to sound like. “Uh, I mean, hey, you.” Robin Buckley wanted to puke. “So, Eddie, I’d love to come over tonight.”
A piece of pork was hacked from Eddie’s throat, as he choked on his food. “R-Really?!”
Watching his face drop, you stood with concern wondering what was going on on the other line. “Oh, absolutely. Should we say around nine?” Eddie checked his clock. In fifteen fucking minutes?!
But Eddie Munson wasn’t going to back down. Eddie Munson, Dungeon Master of the great Hellfire, who’s pushed his men to prevail against the nefarious dark lords of villages and towns alike, was not going to be defeated by Trumpet Girl. The man glared his eyes. “Yes.” He tested.
Robin Buckley accepted his challenge. “Good.” She smiled, as she watched Steve motion for her to crank it up a notch. “Uh, I’m really looking forward to you and I h-having sexual intercourse.” The phone hung up and flung from her hands the second the words left her mouth.
Eddie Munson’s face dropped. Dustin Henderson gagged. Steve Harrington laughed. And Robin Buckley wanted to crawl into a hole to forever perish in the depths of torturous hell.
Because that’s what it felt like to flirt with a man.
-
“Okay, showtime!” Dustin applauded from the backseat of Steve’s car, where Robin scrambled to effortlessly scrunch her hair around.
“Here’s the perfume.” Steve pushed down the nozzle of the stolen fragrance of his mother’s collection—thanking god for the moment that she wasn’t here—where his finger spritzed numerous doses against Robin, causing the car to invade with the nauseating scent of strong, overpowering flowers.
Robin coughed. “Alright, quit it! The kid has allergies.”
“I have allergies!” Dustin sneezed.
Steve huffed in annoyance, watching as Robin unbuckled from her seat. The beaming headlights that had once reflected off the vinyl-covered walls of the trailer had been switched off for stake-out purposes, as Steve’s car parked in the open area of the Munson home in the quiet night.
“Hand over the wine, Henderson.” Buckled next to the seat of Dustin’s—for protective measures—a bottle of his parent's stolen chardonnay rested like a passenger on board; Steve’s, ever the romantic, suggestion for the authenticity of a real date.
“Is this really necessary?” Robin truly had no room to talk, she most definitely hadn’t experienced the polarizing events of the dating scene, let alone ones of heterosexual realms (thankfully).
Scoffing, Steve was galled by the dig at his—for once—knowledgeable expertise of life phenomena. “Are you kidding, chicks go for this shit.” Surely, Bridget, Heidi, Linda, and Jeanie can attest to his opinion.
“Yeah, well, Munson’s definitely not a chick… unfortunately.” She mumbled.
“Huh?” Dustin asked.
Robin was quick to shut up in a panic. “Nothing!”
“Look, just get in there, and do your thing, alright?” Whatever attempt at a pep talk this was from Steve Harrington devastatingly fell short, as the last thing Robin Buckley expected to do on her Tuesday night was go out on a date with a man, who so happened to be her best friend’s boyfriend. Thing?! What thing?! She couldn’t even stare her crush in the eye for Christ sake, Steven! Robin Buckley has no thing! And Eddie Munson unfortunately does- the repulsing (to her) kinda thing that Robin Buckley doesn’t even like! She huffed. “Just take it easy. The second Munson lets you in, we’ll sneak up to the door, and hear through there.”
On the edge of his bed, Eddie Munson let your hands wander about, until his appearance was up to your liking; voluminous hair, controlled friz, straightened shirt, and a bottle of minty mouth spray that he coughed at, but necessary for the prevention of spring roll breath. “Okay, you’re gonna be great!” You motivated him with the words of encouragement, as you brushed away his stray hairs. “You just make her think you want to have sex with her, and it’ll totally freak her out.”
Eddie straightened up, shaking his body from any jitters, and stretching as if a marathon was in place. “Okay, so how far am I exactly supposed to go with her?” His face etched with concern.
You waved him off. “Relax, alright, she’s gonna give in way before you do!” If there was anything you learned about Robin Buckley in your months of friendship, it was the blatantly obvious fact that she would shrivel up in awkwardness before anything further took place.
Eddie Munson freaked at your sudden certainty. “How do you even know?!”
“Because you’re on my team!” You stressed. “And my team always wins!”
His face scrunched with fret. “At this?!”
Tentative knocking against the front door pulled you both away from the conversation. It was game time. “Eddie,” his head whipped back to you, “you’re the Dungeon Master, okay? This, this is nothing in comparison to dark lord wizard thingies.” God, he knew for certain you didn’t fully understand his interest in Dungeons and Dragon, but the time you took to support him was making his heart beat faster than any fake date with your best friend could ever make him feel.
You make him feel such incredible things.
“You’re the master here, you’re in control, you got this!” Jesus Christ, the corny shit your competitiveness was making you say was too fucking cute. “Just go get some!” You finished him with a quick kiss that had him yearning for more, but your body quickly scurried away to the bathroom.
Eddie Munson sighed. Cracking his neck, he rolling his shoulder. “I’m the Dungeon Master. I’m in control.”
Steve clutched a heavy hand on his steering wheel, as both him and Dustin peered through the windows. “Okay, just wait for it… wait for it… wait- get down!” The boys dropped their heads the second Eddie’s front door opened with a dramatic swing.
And there she was. Eddie cocked an eyebrow for whatever reason it was Robin Buckley chose to show up overly dressed like a middle-aged woman, and with an awkward smile to taint her image. But Eddie Munson was right there to follow suit with a strange grin to greet her.
“Robin.”
“Eddie.”
“Come on in.”
“I was going to.”
As the trailer door closed shut, Steve and Dustin silently crawled their way out of the car with their utmost quietest attempts of closing the doors shut behind them. With crouched stances like detectives on duty, the pair scampered their way to the top of Eddie’s cemented stairs, where their heads pressed against the front door to hear the muffled conversation from the other side.
“I, uh, brought some wine.” Robin held up the bottle, as Eddie was slightly taken aback. What the hell kinda teenager brings wine to a date? Probably the kind who’s a lesbian, and going out with her best friend’s boyfriend out of competition. “Would you like some?”
“Oh, uh, sure.” Making their way to the kitchen, Eddie secured two cups, as Robin popped off the protruding cork top, and suddenly she felt entirely even more stupid than the fact that she was on a “date” with a man, when Eddie proffered matching Garfield and Odie mugs for glasses of chardonnay.
The dreadful silence began to take over, and Eddie could only manage to fill it with thorny chuckles, as Robin filled the mugs. “So, uh,” she sighed, “here we are. Nervous?”
“Me? No. You?” He skeptically questioned.
But Robin Buckley was there to provoke him. “No, I want this to happen.”
“So do I.” Eddie cleared his throat, before their glasses clicked with a toast, and Robin and Eddie found themselves chugging down the mug-fulls of alcohol to hopefully forget the disturbing night they were about to endure. When cups fell empty, Eddie sighed and turned to the radio that rested atop of the washing machine. “Why don’t I, uh, play some music; set the mood a little.”
Call her inexperience, whatever, but Robin knew there was no way in hell the screeching voices of Slayer attested to “setting the mood” during date night. God, she felt bad for you- for straight women. “Maybe-maybe I’ll, uh, dance for you.” She dared right back.
Where Robin could judge Eddie on his music taste, Eddie could return the favor in her lack of mobility, as her body began clumsily swaying about in his kitchen, off rhythm to the already undanceable sounds to thrashing metal. Her contorting ankles in kitten heels paired with her jutting hips allowed her to mortifyingly saunter her way over to an uncomfortable Eddie, who was wielding the willpower to not bark a laugh in her face.
But Robin Buckley was not going to win this. Not when Eddie Munson’s pride stood in the way. “Mm, you look good.” He spoke so stiffly, as he defied back with a taunting grin.
“Why, thank you.” She forced out a laugh. “Y-You know, when you say things l-like that, it makes me wanna, um, rip that… Weird Al t-shirt right off.” Jesus Christ, Dustin made him get matching ones.
“Okay,” he cleared his throat, “well, uh, why don’t we move this to the bedroom then?” His brows pointed, eyes glared.
Robin immediately stopped her bizarre dancing. “Really?” Her panic settled in.
“Oh!” Eddie quickly stepped back with an impeding smile. “Do you not want to?” He urged.
“No, no.” Robin composed herself, waving him off with faux confidence. “I just, um, you know, first, I wanna t-take off all my clothes, and have you r-rub lotion all over me.” Is that what straight people do before sex?!
Eddie’s throat constricted with little air, and a tightening hand of embarrassment. “Well, that would be nice.” His voice raised a cracking octave. “I’ll, uh, go get the lotion.” Before Robin could respond, Eddie was already running away to the bathroom. Your gnawing teeth had bitten through your nail when Eddie came bustling through the door. “Okay, this is totally getting out of hand.” He fretfully groused, as he crowded your area in the small room. “She wants me to put lotion on her!” Eddie dramatically snarled.
You rebuffed his dread. “She’s bluffing!”
Eddie huffed. “Look, she’s not backing down. Jesus, shit, she went like this!” He suddenly gyrated his stiff hips harshly against you to mimic her dancing.
A couple feet away at the front door of Eddie’s trailer, Robin was in consternation, frantically rambling to Steve and Dustin. “He is not backing down! He went to get lotion!”
“You aren’t done yet?” Dustin heaved. “You’re supposed to be on my team, he should be cracking right now!”
Her angry finger flicked against his forehead, despite his insistent cries of pain. “This is all your fault to begin with!”
“Okay, will everybody just calm down for a second?” Steve hushed, where his hands found the relaxing perch against his hips, as if his motherly duties were calling. “Think of it this way, the sooner you get Eddie to break, the sooner this can all be over with.”
“Ooh, I like that.” Robin nodded along.
“Just amp the flirting, alright?” Steve coached. “Look, it took him weeks to actually approach a girl at the bar, he used to get totally flustered whenever he’d play wingman for me. How the hell managed to get Y/N? I don’t know, but all I do know is that just like you, Eddie Munson is a total dud when it comes to flirting.”
Her mouth fell agape at the insult that stung too much from the utter reality of the statement. It didn’t make her feel any better when Dustin shoved that patronizing look in her face. “Yeah, Robin, sweetie, you are not doing a good job right now.”
“How would you know? You’re fourteen!” She bellowed.
“And yet, which one of us is in a loving, committed relationship?” The kid snided.
Steve shushed Dustin away before a catfight could break out on the doorstep of Eddie’s home. “Look, you got this. Just make Munson uncomfortable! You’re a girl, you got this!”
“He’s a boy, he makes me uncomfortable!” She spat.
Ransacking his bathroom cabinets for a bottle of lotion, you hastily shoved the bottle into his grasp, and clutched onto his shoulders. “You go back in there, and you seduce her till she cracks!” Never in a million years did you think you’d encourage your boyfriend to do that. Though with this much commitment, he should really get you into Dungeons and Dragons.
“Okay, just give me a second.” He took a deep breath for composure, just as he got a good glimpse of his bathroom. “Did you clean up in here?!” Your eyes rolled, before grappling onto the doorknob, and pushing Eddie out of the bathroom. He slowly approached the kitchen, where his nervousness eased at the sight of Robin at the door. “Oh, you’re, uh… you’re going!” He smiled.
Steve Harrington's voice replayed in her head, and Robin cleared her throat to pull out the sultry crisp she was needing to flirt. “Um, not without you, lover.”
Eddie flashed her a tight-lipped smile, as he released a big sigh. “Well, uh, come here.” He beckoned. “I’m very happy we’re gonna have all the sex.”
Robin ignored the disgust in her belly to test him. “Y-You should be.” She smirked. “I’m very bendy.” Eddie’s eyebrows pulled with fright, as she stepped closer. “I’m going to k-kiss you now.”
And Eddie bothered her right back. “Not if I, um, kiss you first!” With a foot apart, Robin Buckley made her first move on a man, as her stiff hand latched uncomfortably to Eddie’s waist. Devastatingly following in line, Eddie’s fingertips barely grazed her skin, as they lightly rested onto her shoulder, neither party urging anyone to come closer. “Well, I-I guess there’s nothing left for us to do than to kiss.”
“Here it comes.” With rigid lips tucked inward, and tense bodies hesitantly pulling together, Eddie Munson genuinely began to realize how much of a idiotic idea all this was. A nauseating feeling struck him, as he understood what a lousy world it’d be to live in if he had to continue to disguise his feelings for you. I mean, going on a date with your best friend? This is the lengths he’s going to to hide something so perfect? And Robin. For the love of god, if picturing Joan Jett over Eddie’s face was needed to make this experience slightly less miserable, then, yeah, maybe this plan was stupid all along.
“Okay, okay, okay! Fine, you win!” Eddie pulled away, as Robin’s face astounded. “I will not have sex with you!” He huffed with exhaustion.
“And why not?” Robin smiled, as the victory was coming her way.
“Because I’m in love with Y/N!”
“You’re-you’re what?” The front door jolted open, as Steve Harrington and Dustin Henderson hurdled their way in, but Eddie took no notice of the peculiarity in that. Not when he heard the bathroom door open behind him.
“Love her!” He proclaimed at the top of lungs. “That’s right! I love her!” Eddie pointed to you, as you made your way closer. “I love her! I’m in love with her!” And suddenly, the reality of you actually standing in front of him hit him, and Eddie realized the weight of what he just admitted to you… and his friends. Eddie took a deep breath, as he solemnly stared down at you, and in an instant, he felt his body calm at the sight of your smile. “I love you, Y/N.”
His hands took solace against your warm cheeks, where you stared up at with adoration in your eyes. “I love you, Eddie.” Your arms circled around his neck, as his desperate hands clung to your shirt to pull you into an intoxicating kiss that had you both mewling with tenderness. This was it. Eddie Munson knew love.
That was until Robin spoke. “Oh, my god, you guys! We thought you were just doing it, we didn’t know you were in love!” She gushed.
Steve shyly smiled from the back. “Dude!” He effused.
“Aha!” And then there was Dustin Henderson. “I told you! I told all of you! And none of you wanted to believe me! I was right and you were wrong!” He pompously smiled, before turning to you and Eddie. “By the way, I was the first to know! I’ve been knowing for a week after you freaks forced me to lose my dice!”
Eddie chuckled, as his hands stayed secured around you. “Actually, Dustin, Max was kinda the first to know. She found out four months ago, when she caught Y/N leaving my place at night.” He admitted. “Been blackmailed ever since; spent $20 on some damn heart-shaped sunglasses.”
“Are you kidding me!” Dustin felt gobsmacked, betrayed and abandoned, like those damn Fritos.
“Hey, but, uh, hats off to you, Robin.” Eddie smiled, offering a hand of congratulation. “Quite the competitor.” And she shook it proudly, another notch in whatever weird belt this was.
“I still can’t believe you never told me.” Dustin gasped. “I mean, seriously, Max out of all people.” Dustin Henderson, Steve Harrington, and Eddie Munson’s voices eventually faded into the background, as you managed to slip away from your boyfriend’s grasp to hold onto the hand of your best friend, while you whisked her away to the quiet corner of the living room.
“Hey, so I just wanted to apologize to you real quick.” You softly smiled at Robin. “I mean, going through all this just because I kept this from you,” you sighed, “I’m just really sorry you were forced to date my boyfriend.”
Robin laughed, as she squeezed your hand. “I’m sorry you’re forced to date him everyday.” She joked. “No, but seriously, you don’t have to apologize at all.” Her throat began to sting with the heftiness of her feelings, but she felt the warmth of fingers against hers, and Robin Buckley took her deep breath. “I understand why you did it- why you felt the need to hide.”
“You do?”
“Yeah.” She tearfully smiled. “I feel the same way, just a little different. I just, um, I know what it’s like to want to keep something to yourself, because having to come out as something you know the world isn’t going to love is scary. It’s really scary, Y/N.” Her hand tightened, as her voice cracked.
But in true Buckley style, that beautiful smile never left her face, as she told you her biggest fear. But what a shame it was that the world made her biggest fear her truest self. Your arms wrapped around her in a suffocating hug, where she let out a shaky sigh against your shoulder. “Robin,” you whispered into her hair, “I love you.” You implored. “Eddie does. Steve does. I hope you know that this town isn't worth being scared of.” You felt her shudder against you, as your hand soothed down her back. “Not when you’re so goddamn perfect.” Robin laughed, as she pulled away, clearing her eyes from any unspilled tears that threatened to stain her cheeks. “I know it’s easier said than done, but genuinely, don't waste your perfect self on what the world wants.” She digested your words, flashing you a thankful grin, as she steady to jumping nerves. “I mean, take it from the man himself, your date tonight, who’s univocally himself.”
You both turned to the kitchen, where Steve and Eddie had Dustin pinned, with a spring roll in hand, trying to shove it down the defiant kid’s mouth. “Jesus, I really am sorry you have to date him.”
You both laughed, as you watched the commotion take place. And you looked at Eddie Munson, how effortlessly beautiful he was, and how comfortable those around him came to be in his accepting presence. “He’s not too bad.” You smiled. “Now, c’mon, we have Chinese and chardonnay to celebrate!”
Finally letting the child go, Steve snagged the spring roll with a monumental bite of pleasure, before closely crowding into Eddie’s bubble. “No, but seriously, dude, how the hell did you do it?” Steve Harrington pointed to you, as Eddie Munson smiled.
#stranger things#eddie munson#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x fem!reader#steve harrington#robin buckley#dustin henderson
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Episode 9 TMP Quick Thoughts
Housekeeping and Prologue
Hello, this is Douglysium and you might not know me as that guy who wrote over 100 pages of analysis on the Eye (which can be read on Tumblr here (https://douglysium.tumblr.com/post/735599414228484097/the-relationships-between-the-dread-powers-the) or Google Docs here (The Relationships Between the Dread Powers: The Eye- Knowledge is Fear and Ignorance is Bliss)) or as that guy who wrote an article on the Extinction (which can be read on Tumblr here(https://douglysium.tumblr.com/post/717929126195003392/what-would-avatars-of-the-extinction-be-like-a) and Google Docs here(What would Avatars of the Extinction be like?: A TMA Speculation)). Suffice to say I might be a bit of a TMA fan. Also, spoilers for TMP up until episode 8. You can read my ramblings on the last episode here (Episode 8 TMP Quick Thoughts).
However, Protocol offers a very unique opportunity and experience for me because I didn’t actually get into TMA until after it was over and I binged all of it. So this is my first time experiencing something even remotely similar to what the original TMA fans probably experienced when waiting for each episode week by week and slowly having to put everything together with the limited information they had. So I decided to throw my hat into the ring since this might be my only chance to do something similar. However, I’m working on some longer form TMA content so I can’t spend as much time on these articles giving a bunch of super detailed thoughts. I will try to keep these short and that inevitably might mean some could have questions about why I think or predict certain things and in those cases I would probably recommend you read at least some of the two articles I mentioned above to get a better idea of where I’m coming from. This also means I won’t be giving you a play-by-play of every single thing that happens in the episode so I encourage you to listen to or read them yourselves and feel free to comment if you feel something is important.
These reviews are probably going to end up focusing mostly on the Entities and their manifestations as they are what I have thought about the most and spent the most time interpreting and there’s been a lot of… interesting theories floating around about how the Entities are manifesting that I want to go over.
Finally, I’m just going to say it right now, spoiler warning for all of The Magnus Archives. I know that Jon and co said one could start with Protocol and be fine, and while that’s probably true, media like this tends to be made in conversation with or take into consideration what came before it in the irl chronology in order to connect them. While I’m sure you could skip The Magnus Archives, I don't really see the point of skipping over it when we are already getting characters from TMA showing up in TMP in Protocol. So to me it’s pretty clear that if we want to understand the full picture of TMP and all the things it is trying to say then we can’t just try to pretend TMA doesn’t exist or scrub it away. Just because you could understand what’s happening without the context in broad strokes doesn’t mean you're getting all the nuances.
These articles are meant to be quick and short so sorry if there’s typos and if I don’t address every possible question or possibility. I don’t want to repeat myself too much in this series outside of the prologue so be sure to skim some of my other articles.
Episode 9 “Rolling With It”
As has become the custom at this point, we join whatever / whoever is witnessing the events of TMP through some sort of a device (one of the OIAR computers in this case). Sam is organizing a large stack of papers as Celia enters the room and sits at her computer. Sam seems incredibly focused on filling out these papers, so much so that Sam didn’t even seem to notice or acknowledge Celia’s presence until she directly addresses him.
Celia asks him what he's doing and Sam explains “Just filling in some more onboarding paperwork. You know what it’s like.” Celia is puzzled since she hasn’t gotten anything similar since day 1 and Sam explains “It’s my own fault. I checked a box for a Response department one-to-one.” So whatever is going on with the papers right now has to do with the papers Sam started filling out in episode 5. However, this situation doesn’t sit completely right with me. First off, in that episode it sounded like Sam never actually finished the original 1-to-1 form since Alice stopped him. This could easily be because curiosity got the better of Sam and he just decided to fill it out later but Sam specifically says that this is all happening because he “checked a box for a Response department one-to-one.” A single box. I could just be taking this too literally and Sam just filled out the form when Alice wasn’t around and is saying one of the boxes he checked is causing this to happen but Celia mentions “Yeah… Alice mentioned something about that. Also, that there hasn’t been a Response department for years now?”
So this appears to be caused by the same paperwork Alice was present for. This means either Sam is lying about something or there might be something strange afoot. If we assume that this is due to the paperwork in episode 5 then did Sam submit something incomplete? I don’t remember anything in that episode implying Sam went back and submitted that paper somewhere even if it’s possible. Is it possible someone or something somehow seemed to know when Sam filled out the form. Something like The Eye (which we know is prone to do random stuff like this) or some similar Entity?
Sam and Celia continue to talk about how pointless this entire thing seems and Sam justifies continuing to fill these forms out anyway by saying “Well, I refuse to give it the satisfaction of giving up.” This justification sounds similar to Colin not wanting to give any of the OIAR computers satisfaction.
Sam and Celia go over some of the weird questions on the one-to-one.
SAM
“Exactly. And honestly, it’s kind of compelling by this point. Like its deliberately weird and pointless y’know?”
CELIA
“How so?”
SAM
“Look. (He pulls some paperwork across. CELIA pulls in closer)”
CELIA
“(reading) Please list your earliest four negative memories associated with school or an equivalent childhood educational institution, then rate each from zero to seven with zero being neutral and seven being traumatic. (laughing) I’m sorry what?”
SAM
“It gets better.”
CELIA
“(digging through pages) Please list every dead creature you have seen in the last three months… how many blood transfusions have you had within the last ten years… “Why?” Why what?”
SAM
“(smiling) Just “Why””
CELIA
“Well, that’s… something “
SAM
“Isn’t it? And even better, I know noone will ever read it.”
I’ve been arguing that, along with the idea that Smirke’s 14 categories are probably still applicable or around to some degree, the OIAR is probably somehow connected to the Eye (or at the very least has a lot of parallels to it). There’s the computers, statements, and voices of Jon and Martin obviously but you also have stuff like this. For one, while strange contracts or paperwork could easily connect to The Web or something similar, The Eye is no stranger to them either. The most obvious example of this in TMA is the contract those working in the Magnus Institute’s Archives had to sign. One which supernaturally bound them to Jonah / the Institute. Additionally, Sam’s paperwork having odd and strangely prying questions is quite in line with The Eye and the idea of something snooping or trying to know too much about you (like sensitive information).
Celia refers to the paperwork and Reference department as an “automated bureaucratic system.” This could be automated by some sort of technology very easily but it could be automated by someone or something like an Entity or monster acting behind the scenes. If it turns out Sam actually didn’t submit the Request department’s form and somehow something was just randomly notified that he checked a box that would fit in line with The Eye and the propensity it and its followers have to knowing stuff they shouldn’t or some form of “clairvoyance.” Since The Eye is also the fear of secrets being revealed or made known Sam’s line of “I know noone will ever read it.” becomes a lot more ominous. I also wonder if these papers are purposefully being used as some sort of breadcrumbs or bait. Sam says that he’s doing this for fun but he could be skeptical about the existence of the Response department.
I end up beating this dead horse every video and I’m not 100% sure it applies here because Sam says he’s filling out these papers for fun and absurdity, however what I’m saying will come back up very soon anyway. As I’ve mentioned previously The Eye doesn’t just seem to be the fear of being watched but knowledge in general. Not just in the sense that someone might get knowledge about you that you don’t want them to know (such as where you live / are) but also that you yourself might know or see something you don’t want to. In MAG 200 The Eye is stated to have been born from the fear of one’s eyes showing them too much and this would thematically explain Jonah’s ability to shove information into the heads of people like Martin and Melanie (he’s forcing them to confront information they don’t want to). Additionally, similar to how The Hunt often cultivates personalities or desires relating to pursuit, and the Slaughter for anger, The Eye seems to do something similar for curiosity. That is to say, it loves to use the promise of answers or tempting one’s curiosity in order to drag them into its clutches as either victims or followers.
Jon originally went to the Institute looking for answers about his encounter with The Web and Sam is here looking for answers about The Magnus Institute. Both Jonah and The Eye love to leave breadcrumbs and information that promote curiosity and a desire for answers. At one point in TMA Gertrude even describes The Eye as also being the idea of seeking knowledge even if in doing so you might get hurt somehow. I want to make it clear that when I point out the curiosity of Sam or his colleagues at the OIAR I am not saying it is unjustified or even unusual. I also don’t think everyone is a secret Eye Avatar or something. I’m trying to say that there are certain traits The Eye seems to like. People who are curious are more likely to “see too much” or watch others depending on their personality. Wanting to lash out in anger or self defense isn’t unusual or unprecedented behavior in certain situations but it’s still something that an Entity like The Slaughter likes to prey on no matter how justified it might be. This makes me wonder if, similar to how Jonah left trails of statements to guide Jon in the right direction and files to stoke the “nosy” parts of Rosie’s personality in TMA, that someone or something is purposefully trying to guide Sam in a certain direction for various reasons. There’s the potential paperwork sure but we get this interaction.
CELIA
“Well, I’m glad you’re in a good mood, ‘cause I’ve got some bad news. I can’t find anything more on the Magnus Institute and honestly, at this point I am out of ideas.”
SAM
“That’s all right. I really appreciate you humoring my little crusade but maybe Alice is right. Maybe I should pack it in.”
CELIA
“I’m sorry.”
SAM
“Life’s too short right?”
CELIA
“(standing) Isn’t it just. Fancy horrible coffee?”
SAM
“Nah I’m good. Besides these bad boys won’t fill themselves in.”
CELIA
“(smirking) Don’t have too much fun while I’m gone.”
And then, I shit you not, the next statement CHESTER spits out starts with a ping to grab Sam’s attention before a “Magnus Institute – Manchester. Private and confidential.” The fucking second Sam gives up the computer just decides to give hima new lead. Alright, I can say with relative confidence that it’s pretty safe to assume that these statements aren’t completely random (at least not all of them). I don’t know who / what is picking them and when or for what reasons but if these statements are random some of the times they’ve popped up have been a hell of a fucking coincidence I’ll tell you what.
The statement also has this at its beginning
Magnus Institute – Manchester.
Private and confidential.
Viability as subject – none
Viability as agent – low
Viability as catalyst – Medium.
Recommend referral to Catalytics for Enrichment applicability assessment.
Last episode I wondered what was up with the TMP Magnus Institute’s “gifted kids programs” and wondered if they were looking for people with supernatural abilities or those who had some kind of interaction with leitners or artifacts. I don’t think the person in this statement is a kid but the mention of a subject, agent, and catalyst is interesting. I previously also wondered if perhaps the government was using the Entities as some sort of secret weapon or back pocket type stuff. Y’know Eye aligned spy networks or Slaughter enhanced soldiers, stuff like that.
I’m not really sure if this is the case or any of the stuff I’m mentioning is actually connected, and the Institute and government may be unrelated in this universe, but the mention of viability relating to “subject”, “agent”, and “catalyst” is curious and I don’t think terms like this were really used by the Institute in TMA. The most common and notable phrases were things like “Avatar”, “Monster”, “Marked”, “Victim”, etc.. I wonder what these newer phrases mean. Is it “subject” as in test subject? “Agent” like someone who is meant to investigate a Power or someone who is using the abilities of the Entities for some reason? “Catalyst?” A Catalyst for what? A catalyst for a ritual, a catalyst that an Entity is attracted to, a catalyst for abilities? I wonder if these terms are meant to refer to people or artifacts? Maybe I should actually comb through the statement before making long winded guesses though.
This statement revolves around a pair of dice and they are immediately presented as dangerous since the statement giver says “Yeah, I see you not touching them. Smart. But gloves aren’t going to be any protection if your hand slips and they go clattering across the table. I’d put them in that box real careful, because let me tell you, those babies are due for some serious bad luck.” They also mention “So yeah, I tell you all about them, how I got them, all that crap and you just… You take them away, right? You accept them? Good. I think. I’m pretty sure that’s how it works. It’s how it worked for me, at least. Put them in whatever vault you like, bury them, drop them in the ocean, for all I care. All that matters is that they’re yours now.” This all seems similar to TMA’s Institute. The person recounting this tale is doing so in a form that sounds like a statement and the Institute in TMA is also noted as having an artifact storage. Sasha mentions that she worked there for a bit as a lab rat before moving to the Archives and noted some of the strange supernatural objects there.
The statement giver then proceeds to explain how they came across the dice. Their nerdy friend Gary roped them into playing a session of Advanced DnD (Dungeons and Dragons) before they drifted apart after they finished going to their school. But then last year someone named Carl breaks up with the narrator and moves to Doncaster, which means that they haven’t seen each other very much. Despite the fact that they weren’t “engaged or anything” the narrator says that the break up still hurts. That’s when the Gary guy from earlier suddenly calls the narrator asking them to join his playgroup. They end up going to Gary’s apartment and note that while the place looks nice Gary is “looking kind of haggard. He’s wearing this obviously expensive long-sleeved turtleneck but he’s got bags under his eyes, his trousers are torn and he’s walking with a limp. ” Given what we later learn about the dice, most likely the torn trousers and limp came from a bad event caused by a bad roll. The exhaustion might be due to the seemingly addictive nature of the dice in question.
The speaker asks Gary if he’s okay and Gary “mumbles something about a mugging so I leave it alone but I do notice that a bunch of the bulbs have blown and there’s a huge leak over his massive sound system. I don’t say anything though. I mean, it’s not like my tiny rented studio was any better. That said, I do notice a slight stain on his wall that I think might be blood.” Most likely these are the results of accidents caused by Gary messing around with the dice.
The narrator feels extremely awkward because of the scene and and the game Gary tries to teach them is “an entirely different kind of awkward ‘cause I have no idea what he’s on about. Then he says to me that he assumes I don’t have any dice of my own and I tell him no– I’ll have to use his. That puts a smile on his face. I know why now of course.” This is the point where Gary passes on the dice to the speaker. “I was expecting him to give me a bunch of those cheap little plastic dice with all the different points, but instead he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pair of normal ones. Six sides, off white, little black dots, you know what dice look like. I mean, you’re looking at them right now. I ask him if we need, you know, weird dice and he shakes his head, saying this game just uses “two dee six”. He holds them out for me to take them, so I do. God, they felt heavy.” A “d6” refers to a six sided dice. Considering how awkward the game is to the narrator and that it doesn’t seem to be like DnD, it’s very likely that this is a game Gary made up or went out of his way to pick so he would have an excuse to give this statement’s protagonist the two dice. Typically, most aspects of DnD require not only more than 2 people (with 4 to 5 usually being considered ideal) but rolling d20s (a twenty sided die). The narrator asking about “weird dice” could be them referring to d20s. There are certain things in DnD (such as specific spells) that involve rolling a d6 but in my limited experience those tend to be specific situations and I think Gary wants to guarantee that a d6 will have to be used.
The narrator notes “It’s been a while since I played the tables but I’ve played with enough bones to know they were too heavy... And there was something else too. From that point on I own those dice. And I know it.” Immediately after this moment Gary says he has a phone call from someone else in the playgroup saying they couldn’t make it so the game session was canceled. There’s no mention that Gary asks for the dice back or even explicitly offers it to the speaker. It just seems like the narrator just “knew” or it was implied somehow. “Do I really need to give you the whole lowdown on the next bit? I mean, you said you're specifically looking for, what was it, “supernaturally active items” right? I feel like when I tell you I'm giving you a pair of cursed dice you can probably put the pieces together.”
The narrator then begins to roll the dice and starts to notice certain patterns in how they work. “...they make stuff happen. I roll high, good things happen: job offers, free coffees from hot baristas, tax refund; I roll low, bad things happen: Broken tech, lost money, bad moods all around. And when I roll really low... Well, you’ve seen the scars.” So I guess that explains the sorry state of Garry and his apartment. I think it’s interesting that the narrator notes “free coffees from hot baristas” considering that they mentioned feeling hurt from a break up. We learn even more when we are told later in the statement “After a while, though, I did notice that… it's not actually random. You get a few high rolls, your next one's is probably going to be low. And if you've gotten all the bad luck out, you've got good things coming. I know, I know, that's meant to be ’superstition, but I’m telling you, I kept track and I've got enough maths in me to be sure of the odds. They’re not random, it all balances out eventually. So that’s when I get to thinking, what if the person rolling doesn't matter just as long as the rolls balance out overall... Well, you see where I'm going with this.”
“The thing is though I still don’t really know if they ever made me roll them. I mean, I did. A lot. And I knew that the risks probably outweighed the rewards but I don’t think I ever felt them like “calling” to me or anything y’know? It always felt like my choice. Even if it was a shitty choice. Besides, I've never gotten anything good in my life except by blind chance, so why should this be any different?” This remark raises the question on if the dice themselves make you more compelled to roll them or if it just so happens that the dice are somehow attracted to people with a predisposition or propensity for gambling or gambling addictions. However, the narrator also mentions “The weirdest thing, nobody ever said no. Some stranger approaches you slides a pair of dice over to you and tells you to roll them, you say no, right? But they always did. Sure, they'd give me weird looks, tell me to get lost, treat me like the creep I absolutely was, but they still rolled them. And sure, I know better than most everyone loves rolling dice but it does make me wonder how much control I ever really had... ” This could be something like The Web at play or maybe it’s another Entity considering it’s connection to addiction and fears relating to the idea of something else controlling you or a lack of free will.
“I did spread good luck as well as bad. After all, even when you stacked the odds, plenty of people got high numbers and then a letter arrives right there and then with welcome news. I hated them for it though. Those stupid damn grins as they robbed me of my good luck. But when they rolled low, when you could see the misfortune dropping over them like a shadow, or better yet when they rolled real low and you could be certain that the next throw would be a good one. There was a dark joy to that, I’ll admit.” So it doesn’t seem like rolling just any low number absolutely 100% guarantees the next number will be high but it does significantly raise the chances and vice versa for when you roll a high number. While there is, according to the person giving the statement, a pattern of some sort, said pattern still has some luck involved. They even say “And my system worked. It wasn’t perfect, I’d still get a few dud rolls here and there: a broken down car, a missed payment, once I even went through a plate glass window, but for the most part I’d really turned stuff around for myself, offloading all the crap to someone else for a change. Clearly something that idiot Gary had never even thought to try.” Whether or not you actually want to believe this person or want to assume that they were just justifying their continued gambling is up to you.
I question if their assessment about Gary never trying to offload the bad luck onto other people is correct. Like they said, their system was imperfect, so is what they saw just the result of the bad rolls? They did just say that they flew through a glass plate window at some point, but then again the narrator sounds like they are in a better state than Gary at this moment.
Over time the effects of the die seem to shift as the narrator says “And then it started to change and the luck was… different. Not in whether it was good or bad, but how it was good or bad. At first, it had all been pretty normal stuff, sometimes even predictable but gradually it started becoming more… I don’t know, abstract? Like it used to be getting an extra hashbrown or whatever and then it became just being in a good mood and then finally you couldn’t even pin down what had happened you just knew something had. And as my luck kept getting better and better I started to feel less and less… connected to the world. Like I was a lucky ghost, or something, walking with normal but not really one of them anymore. I was just this figure stepping into their lives long enough to gift them fortune or, more often, misery before moving on.” The fact that they call themselves “this figure stepping into their lives long enough to gift them fortune or, more often, misery before moving on” is actually interesting because it sounds suspiciously like the gentleman in Episode 4 and his spiel about luck. I don’t think this narrator and the gentleman are the same person (because the timeline wouldn’t add up) but the gentleman did say “"Luck assumes a myriad of forms, " he proclaimed, his practiced manner warm and inviting, “and today it takes the form of a simple traveler offering you his wares. You mentioned playing the violin, I believe?”” It is also noted that the gentleman in question had a pair of gambling dice among their wares. I wonder if these dice are the same pair.
Weirdly tying into this, the narrator gets like REALLY into character. They “started to enjoy that more than the luck. I was rolling for myself less and less, focusing more on being some mysterious stranger. I even began dressing for the part: I got hold of this long dark coat, a wide-brimmed hat, grew a proper goatee, the works.” This is kind of hilarious because the narrator was bashing roleplaying earlier, but also intriguing because I wonder if the personality we saw from the gentleman in Episode 4 was being brought about or influenced by something. He isn’t noted as having a goatee though and it at least sounded like he didn’t look like a guy larping as a super villain. It might have something to do with the influence of the time period or their personalities, or it could just be unrelated. I would be a little surprised if it was specifically only the dice that were causing both these characters to act this way. Maybe it has to do with the “subject / agent / catalyst” scores the Institute was giving out to artifacts earlier in this statement.
The narrator continues to larp and screw people over (with the occasional blessing of good luck) until they “see Gary, sat in a coffee shop just down the road from the fancy uptown flat I was living in (thank you double-six). And he looks normal. Not happy, exactly, but certainly not the miserable shell he'd been when I saw him last. And a vicious little idea comes to me. So, I walk up to him and say hello.” So, the narrator does just that and describes Gary’s face as “Guilt at first sure but then it slides into confusion when he sees the outfit. He starts to stammer out some halfbaked apology when I hold up my hand to stop him. I put on “the voice” and tell my old friend thank you so much for the gift and that I want to pay him back. He knows what's coming then even before I take them out and place them on the table between us.” It’s clear that Gary doesn’t want to roll the dice but grimly does so anyway. Snake eyes. Both the dice land on a 1 and it is the first time the narrator has seen this bad of a roll occur. “Never in all the thousands of times I’d seen them rolled, clattering across someone’s future. Maybe they'd been saving themselves for a special occasion, an honor for an unworthy keeper. Or maybe Gary was just really, really unlucky. Either way, there's this moment of silence as we both stare at the table and the dice stare back.”
As soon as that occurs a truck barrels through the wall of the coffee shop and kills Gary in a quite gruesome fashion. “Apparently the driver was asleep at the wheel. The building is wrecked but somehow nobody else was hurt except for Gary. Just unlucky, I guess.” The narrator staggers away from the scene before the police and ambulance arrive before throwing up. The sight of Gary’s death had been too much so they decided they could no longer keep them. “And that brings us about up to date. They're yours now, and I never want to see them again. Don't get me wrong, it’s a blow but I’m just not the right guy to carry them. Besides I've seen how they treat people who give them away. It's a damn shame, though. Well, maybe just once more. For old time's sake. [Transcription ends due to interruption. Statement giver declared dead by paramedics at scene.]” So it seems like the dice react negatively if you try to get rid of them.
So like always, if I was to try to fit these within the framework of Smirke’s 14 (plus the Extinction). The two Entities that seem the most likely to me at first blush are The Desolation and The Web.
There actually seems to be quite a lot of confusion about The Desolation and what it is, so let’s try to define it first. What The Desolation actually tends to relate to is the fear of loss, usually (but not always) via the destruction or damaging of something. This seems to be very broad and can range anywhere from losing a loved one (which causes The Desolation to overlap with The End a lot since death is a very scary way to lose someone), to the idea of losing something like a home or precious object.
I’ve seen a lot of people argue that The Desolation is “fire” in a similar manner to how The Dark is well… the fear of darkness but I would argue this is a bit of a misconception. The reason why The Desolation likes to manifest as fire is because of the association with pain and destruction. Fire can burn down entire neighborhoods and can continue to spread and consume the things you love, taking them away from you in the process. In fact, it’s not really the fire itself that matters to The Desolation but rather the pain, and destruction. This is why in TMA one of the groups following it is known as the Cult of the Lightless Flame. As said in MAG 89 (Twice as Bright) we get this interaction between Jon and Jude Perry-
JUDE
Oh please, your god is nothing! The Eye, Beholding, Ceaseless Watcher, whatever you call it, that’s all it does, it watches and knows, sitting bulbous and comfortable in the ignorance of infinite knowledge.
I serve a reckoning, a surging tide of destruction and pain.
ARCHIVIST
The Lightless Flame.
JUDE
The Desolation. Blackened Earth. The destructive, agonising heat of burning flesh and land scoured of life. The light, the comfort of fire stripped from it, leaving nothing but the terror of its approach.
The word “desolation” itself is defined as “a state of complete emptiness or destruction.”
So the Desolation isn’t trying to connect itself to fire in its entirety (since that would include light, comfort, warmth, cooking, etc.) but fire specifically in relation to destruction. It’s not guiding you anywhere or shielding you from the night, only burning your house and all you hold dear. It’s also notable that no members of the Cult of the Lightless Flame seem to have the ability to produce fire with their own power. Their bodies are kind of like hot wax and they need an external source to make fire (such as a lighter). The reason for this is because The Desolation mostly just wants them to burn and destroy things. While The Desolation overlaps with The Slaughter a lot, due to violence being a common way to lose someone or something (think violent murders and robberies), The Desolation is ultimately the fear of things like loss and destruction while The Slaughter is the fear of violence. If someone is stealing or smashing your fine glass china collection that is usually The Desolation. If someone is stabbing or shooting you directly that tends to be The Slaughter.
Of course, how does this really prove my point? Well, keeping with the themes of loss there is actually a precedent for The Desolation manifesting as just supernatural bad luck causing you to lose things. In MAG 37 (Burnt Offering) Jason North accidentally disturbs a ritual site that had been set up by The Cult of the Lightless Flame and proceeds to slowly lose the things he cares about 1 by 1 until he kills himself out of fear of losing his son (which seems to work). The point of this specific ritual was not to bring The Desolation into the world but to target Gertrude and potentially undo whatever weird binding thing she did to Agnes. In Jason’s statement we get “I just need to know if you can save my son. I’ve asked and asked and your people only ever tell me to write my statement. Put it down on paper for investigation. Is that going to help? No. Of course it isn’t. Even if you had the power to do something, would you? Or would you rather watch my son burn so you can take notes. I’ve been drinking. You can probably tell from the stains. Well, I don’t plan to apologise for ruining your precious paper, and I don’t plan to stop. Only way to keep the fear from settling in. If I’m scared I’m going to lose Ethan like I lost everything else, then I’ll curl into a ball and never get up. I won’t be able to do anything to stop it. I won’t let my son burn, even if you cowards don’t have the guts to step up and do something.” and “Because from that moment on, everything I love and value has burned or been destroyed. My car overheated on the way back to the Forestry Commission, and I barely got out before the engine caught fire. My house was a smouldering heap of blackened rubble before the end of the week. Electrical failure. I don’t want to talk about what happened to Lucy. I don’t want to think about her face at the end. Now there’s only one thing I have left that I value. That I love. And I cannot lose him. I can’t lose Ethan. I shouldn’t be in this mess. It’s absurd. I didn’t do anything wrong. I just dropped a bottle. That’s all! I don’t deserve this. I don’t.”
So there is a precedent for The Desolation manifesting as bad luck, accidents, disaster, etc. but how does this explain the good luck that the two dice seem to provide. Well, as I’ve mentioned in my previous Quick Thoughts the Entities aren’t objective embodiments of concepts but the fear of those things. The End isn’t a psychopomp or the embodiment of death but rather the fear of death. So while The End keeping people alive might seem counterintuitive, what it is doing is feeding on the fear people have of dying rather than the act of dying in and of itself. The longer someone is alive the more they can fear dying. Sometimes the Entities seem to like giving people “boons” or “protection” so that the people in question can fear losing it until / if it is taken away. Even The Hunt does technically allow you to fight back against things hunting you if you embrace it. Which isn’t that much different than The End protecting a victim from death as long as they act a certain way.
So, I would argue that what we could be seeing is The Desolation giving people stuff so they can fear losing it all the more. If the dice only ever gave bad luck there would be a lot less incentive to actually roll them and if you ended up losing everything you might end up with nothing to lose anyway. Fluctuating between good and bad luck allows The Desolation to profit off the idea of loss and destruction as much as possible.
Additionally, no matter how the dice are used an Entity like The Desolation still benefits from it. If you pull a Gary and only roll the dice for yourself you will lose things and destruction / damage will ensue which can generate fear. It got so bad that Gary was desperate to give the dice away and he seemed terrified the next time he saw them. If you try to game the system, like our narrator, The Desolation still wins. For one, the narrator’s system isn’t perfect so you can still fear losing things from bad rolls and whenever someone rolls well the narrator viewed them as stealing their good luck (i.e. fearing the loss of their good luck). Secondly, even if it was perfect, the only way to benefit from good luck like that is to pawn the bad luck off on someone else. In such a case you are probably generating a trail of fear as you make other people suffer the worst of the dice’s effects. The Desolation may not be feeding on your fear if you do this but now it’s just feeding on the fears of others while it rewards you for feeding it (which isn’t much different to how Entities treat things like Avatars). Of course, trying to get rid of the dice seems to create even more fear since you will probably just die the second you roll them after intending to give them away.
Luckily, the possibility of The Web doesn’t need as much explanation. While The Web is sometimes assumed to just be the fear of people manipulating you, it seems to be more like the fear of being controlled by something else in general. This is most apparent in The Web’s connection to addictions and manifestations connected to that. It’s the idea that you are no longer in control and are now being controlled by something else (the addiction itself). So you could argue The Web here due to the connection to addiction via the form of a gambling addiction.
You could also argue The End because trying to give away the dice seems to kill the person trying to do so. Additionally, The End has manifested as game pieces before in MAG 29 (Cheating Death) in the form of “a chess knight, a domino and a pair of dice, each scrimshawed out of old bone.” I don’t think the dice mentioned in MAG 29 are the same ones we are seeing in this TMP statement since they aren’t made of bone and they have vastly different effects and purposes. I would say that some of the other Entities kill people a lot for the sake of fear, especially ones like The Desolation, so it’s a bit tough since you can’t always just point to every instance of a character dying and say “IT’S THE END” in the same way not every statement taking place at night is related to The Dark. I would probably be much more inclined to argue The Web or Desolation here instead of The End.
Considering that the narrator dies at the end of the statement, I’m inclined to believe that the viabilities relating to subject, agent, and catalyst probably refer to the dice themselves. But this doesn’t really make what these attributes are referring to any clearer.
Subject has a lot of definitions and can mean “a person or thing that is being discussed, described, or dealt with”, “likely or prone to be affected by (a particular condition or occurrence, typically an unwelcome or unpleasant one)”, “dependent or conditional upon”, “conditionally upon,” and “cause or force to undergo (a particular experience of form of treatment)” So in this case the subject in question might not be in reference to a test subject but something that can be controlled or influenced by people or some other factor. This factor could simply be the kind of person using them, but it could also refer to something like Smirkean-esque architecture effects. In TMA certain architecture could actually influence how specific artifacts behaved and some would even become more or less stable. This is most notable with leitners and in MAG 80 (Librarian) Leitner says “An unexpurgated copy of Ruskin’s The Seven Lamps of Architecture, published in 1845. Of course, Ruskin didn’t even begin writing the book until 1846, and the text of this one varies markedly from the version that was distributed. It gives an acute sense of the walls pressing in around you, and if consumed recklessly, will physically entomb the reader. Over the years, I have found that it interacts with Smirke’s architecture, and those tunnels specifically, in a more predictable way. By carefully reading specific passages in certain locations, I am able to exercise… a degree of control over the substance of the tunnels.” Like I mentioned last time, I don’t know if Smirke’s architecture specifically is present in TMP in the same way it was in TMA, and it could be some other environment, architectural, or landmark related effect. So the low subject score could be due to the fact that the dice don’t really react to any outside factors. Rolling them a certain way or in certain areas doesn’t make you more or less likely to get lucky rolls for example.
An agent can actually mean a lot of things and can also refer to “a person or thing that takes an active role or produces a specified effect.” So maybe agent in this case refers to how consistent or predictable the dice are in their effect and what the effect actually is. Easier to control or predict artifacts might have higher scores in relation to viability as an agent.
Catalyst is a word that can mean “a person or thing that precipitates an event.” The problem here is that what this could be referring to is even more vague. Is it referring to the ability for the dice to cause specific events like bad / good luck or is it meant to act as a catalyst for say a ritual, monster, or ceremony? If you were to assume catalyst just means the artifact is causing some sort of event then it could just refer to the severity or how big events related to the dice are. The narrator notes that sometimes the luck takes the form of small things and other times really big things in one’s life, which could explain why the catalyst score averages out to a medium. In essence the dice might have really high highs and really low lows which evens out at a medium score.
These measurements would also imply that the Institute might have experimented on people, which is something we know the TMA Institute actually did too. In MAG 39 (Infestation) Sasha says “Did I ever tell you I first joined the Institute as a practical researcher? I had to analyse and investigate all the stuff in here. Take notes after sleeping in the rusted chair, write in the memory book, all that sort of thing. I transferred after three months. Would’ve quit, but couldn’t afford to back then.” and Jon says “Of course, I believe. Of course I do. Have you ever taken a look at the stuff we have in Artefact Storage? That’s enough to convince anyone. But, but even before that… Why do you think I started working here? It’s not exactly glamorous. I have… I’ve always believed in the supernatural. Within reason. I mean. I still think most of the statements down here aren’t real. Of the hundreds I’ve recorded, we’ve had maybe… thirty, forty that are… that go on tape. Now, those, I believe, at least for the most part.” I also wouldn’t put it past the Institute to sacrifice people in the name of accruing knowledge. Not only does this fit into some of the themes of The Eye but it also has a precedent in TMA with the Institute and other people like Leitner in his library having sacrificed people to better understand artifacts. Sacrificing people to study artifacts isn’t a new topic in TMA.
We cut to Gwen and Lena in the manager’s office via landline, and Gwen gets her first task as an Externals Liaison- “You are to visit a man by the name of “Nigel Dickerson” and hand him this envelope which contains a name and address. Take note of anything he says or does in response, especially his stress levels and emotional state, as well of those of any companions.” The fact that Gwen is supposed to take notes like this reminds me of The Eye and the whole idea of “drinking in” the fear of others via being the witness to their suffering. It could also be the idea of “seeing too much” or something more akin to a statement. Now that I think about it, Gwen is delivering a name and address? Doxxing people or sending information is very Eye and it could point to Lena trying to scare Nigel on purpose but there’s no telling if this is what it’s about. It could be that the name and address represent a meeting place or something similar. Maybe even a target?
Gwen expresses confusion and says “Nigel Dickerson. As in the Nigel Dickerson? From tv?” to which Lena seems unfamiliar. “You must know him. He was huge in the 90s. Saturdays on Six? Mr Bonzo? The Prank Tank?”
We then get this interaction
GWEN
“And why not just email him?”
LENA
“Because I have found over the years that anything less than the personal touch in these situations often leads to… misunderstandings. Besides, I thought it might be informative for our new Externals Liaison. “
GWEN
“Is all this… theatricality really necessary?”
LENA
“I can assure you it is. Consider it an audition if you like. And try”
In TMA, Jon seemed to gain more power and strength when he took live statements from people as opposed to recorded ones, so we know that while The Eye does deal in records a lot it seems to love its statements and observations of fear fresh when possible. The “theatricality” might be necessary if the point is to scare someone but I’m not 100% sure. Either way, Gwen is probably in for more than she bargained for.
We cut to Teddy and Alice at the pub via Alice’s phone. It seems like Teddy’s new job hasn’t worked out since “They actually started plans to downsize the day before my interview and it turned out their hiring department didn’t get the memo.” Alice says Teddy didn’t deserve that and Teddy responds with “Yeah well, since when does anyone get what they deserve eh?” which is interesting considering the last statement. I don’t think it was Teddy that gave the statement, but the whole idea about the dice giving good luck and bad luck but still having some sort of “balance” is an interesting parallel to Teddy’s sentiment. Especially, since the narrator tried to keep all the good rolls for themselves while sticking everyone else with the bad rolls.
Teddy still seems like he doesn’t want to go back to the OIAR as he says “You hear me asking for a job? I only just got out, I’m staying well-shot of that creepshow.” The transcripts also clarify that Alice is relieved that Teddy isn’t asking for his old job back. Alice goes on to say “It’s all right. You met Sam obviously and then we had Celia join on top of that so we’re all staffed up for a change which is… nice.” implying that it’s not super common for the OIAR to be fully staffed. Alice saying “(unconvincingly) Ok, first, I was being super ironic, and second it is “nice”. We’re more or less on top of the case-load and Sam and Celia get along great.” would imply that part of the reason she and Gwen often seem behind on work to an extent is due to the OIAR being understaffed.
Sam arrives just as Teddy leaves for another interview and Sam does make small talk with Alice; it becomes clear that he’s here to ask Alice to investigate the ruins of the Institute with him. Sam asks Alice to join him instead of Celia because while she did come to investigate Gerry and Gertrude he doesn’t feel like he’s close enough to her to be asking her to investigate shady ruins. Sam also mentions “Listen, I know that you said I shouldn’t pay too much attention to the cases and that, but I genuinely think there might have been something really weird going on at the Magnus Institute and then there was this new case that came up and-” which makes me suspect again that not all the statements the computers spit out are randomly chosen. I also wonder if Alice had a similar experience with oddly specific statements or if she just finds them horrific to listen to (which is fair if that’s the case).
Conclusion
I’m curious about what the Institute was measuring for in this universe. Is the “Magnus Protocol” the government working directly with the Institute at some point to make something or was it something made in response to something that happened to or within the Institute? For example, maybe an Institute test / experiment got out of control and led to the Institute’s destruction? That doesn’t seem super likely at the moment but it’s an idea.
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Dean Winchester (Rough) Natal Chart Analysis
As a gift for a friend, I did a gen rough analysis for the character dean winchester since one of their interests is supernatural. I on the other hand have only seen a few episodes from season one, so I was simply grooving here and if I can find their reactions I’ll add them lmao
Still can’t get over the fact that he’s supposedly a cancer rising beware, copy and pasting from google docs below!
There’s a few things that I want to look into and assess first (mainly career aspects because I’ve been focused on training my eye for that, but I find it interesting with the little knowledge I have of Supernatural), and a bit of his roots and connections to others, because that’s also interesting to me – however I’m going to try and go in my normal order so the important parts of the chart (asc, sun, chart ruler, moon, etc) aren’t forgotten
Cancer Ascendant
I’ve noticed that people with this asc tend to be great caretakers – which is due to their cap dsc. They want to make sure they have a secure place in the world and they can have a ‘sensitive’ approach to how they do things. Not in a sense that they’re easily affected, but they love/care for things heavily, so if they feel that it’s compromised in some way, they will take the proper steps to fix their shell so they are no longer hurt. I’m a bit annoyed because the Ascendant is very important but I have nothing else to say about it and more about his moon which is the chart ruler. There are no aspects being made to it, but his chart just has more important stuff for my eye besides this.
Chart Ruler - Sagittarius Moon in the Sixth House
A Sag moon is going to brighten his cancer attributes a bit. Internally it might cause some frustration (cancer & sagittarius naturally have friction, trying to balance elements that argue with each other within your chart will be a lesson to learn throughout your life) but on the other hand it can cause someone who seems very inviting, loving, or sweet. You mix the bubbly sag with the caring cancer and it attracts people naturally.
People with a Sagittarius Moon are going to end up being drawn to various walks of life and needing stimulation in order to feel comfortable. They will want to experience new environments or thrills, not just hear about them. So the more chances to do things, the happier they’ll be. They are also jolly souls, though they can sometimes have that blunt edge to them.
Having the Moon sitting within the Sixth will also mean that he is easily affected by his routines, work, environments, etc. For ex; he needs to watch his diet since he’d be prone to overeating if stressed out or upset. A co-worker he doesn’t like could make him act out at work more (especially with that sixth stellium). So all things dealing with the sixth house will in turn affect his emotions and internal cycle. With it being a fire sign, he will act first and think later, so it’s a bit helpful that he won’t sit on it and let it stew – ruining his body even more. However the downside is that if he feels bad, he will immediately act on it, and then process that it could’ve been solved another way. Sagittarius is a philosopher and enjoys higher thinking, but it’s still a fire sign. Also a smart-ass.
Sixth House Stellium – he could be prone to low self-esteem. Not just from this stellium, but planets here come naturally so they are hidden from the native. Unless the chart has help somewhere else, there’s a natural response to downplay compliments because the native doesn’t have physical evidence themselves.
Moon, Venus, and Neptune sitting here – this feels very healing in nature which I will come back around to when talking about both his career and childhood. His emotions are going to be visible to those that he works with or those that deal with him daily – even if he isn’t aware of it. So whatever habits learned from childhood, pure/facial reactions, things that go unfiltered, etc – they will be what’s remembered. Venus can show a person that has a natural charm or charisma – sometimes even being a natural beauty. This points to someone who is loved by a lot of their co-workers unless afflicted. It’s also someone who has high standards for themselves and can sometimes be awkward when trying to navigate their own love lives. Neptune is backing up that ‘emotions affecting the health’ issue. It can cause small hiccups that might not be picked up when going to get checked out. It can also be flare ups. They’re also a sign that they are easily influenced by outside forces so creating a good boundary between people and the self is Very important.
With Sagittarius being the sign here, it’s a sign that there’s a 50/50 shot he’s liked or hated. Sagittarius is charming but they have a mouth on them. However he has pleasant signs in the sixth, so it helps ease that up. Sagittarius also helps ease that awkward and tense energy it throws onto planets that enter that house.
Now they make some interesting aspects but I’ll come back to them.
What’s in a Career?
yaaay finally got to it – so for this we usually look at:
-Ascendant
-Tenth House
-Tenth House Ruler
-Midheaven/MC
-2nd, 6th, and 10th House for income/workplace energy
-North Node
So I spoke briefly about the Cancer Ascendant; they seek security within this lifetime. So in turn, they will want to provide security for others. They are great at providing it actually so much so that some of them want to be protected by others every once in a while. With angles, all of this energy repeats. They seek out security (1) > their home usually was domestic/peaceful for the greater good (4) > they become someone who can provide that same energy and end up attracting people who are older or mature for their age (7) > they become leaders, self-employed, or entrepreneurs (10).
The tenth house sits within Aries, which is co-ruled by Mars. When looking at traditional rulership you have to understand how the signs operate. Scorpio is ruled by mars as well, but it’s energy will store it, it will be methodical, it wants to go the distance, it’s in the background until it needs to strike. Aries on the other hand will come crashing in. It wants to fight, it will tackle the problem without a clear concise plan, but it’s going to make sure it’s solved. So they’re both action oriented, and they will both use their body, but in very different ways.
Using the body being the keyword.
A few things that Aries 10th house careers usually involve are: firemen, armed forces, rangers, welders, locksmiths, athletes, race car drivers, boxers, dancers, etc (and ofc, executives and the like). You get the point. Intense use of the body.
So we follow where his mars is going and it sits within the 8th! (sidenote: I don’t like how many house placements we share what does this mean for my career) So the eighth usually talks about loans, debts, shared money issues, inheritances, transformation/transition, and gaining/losses. For modern astrology it can also include the occult but that’s more the twelfth. However having Aquarius sit on the eighth, will still include things of that nature because Aquarius can share topics that are seen as obscure and at the time, the occult or astrology was seen as such (however once again, that’d be more Pisces or Scorpio) but they mainly talk of things like technology or science. SO basically this means that his career will be delivered out in a way that his energy is devoted to things of a give and take nature that might deal with science. Then we add the sun. Whatever this career is, it’s his identity. It’s an important part of him, and it will either bring drama or be a way of expressing himself.
So let’s bring in his actual Midheaven, which is a Pisces MC. So what did I say about Pisces lmao. We’ve already crossed out a lot of options for Pisces. It sits within the Ninth house which just slams down on Jupiter (Pisces and Sag are ruled by Jupiter, Sag sits within the Ninth). The ninth also can stand for a job that either involves the father in some way, it’s satisfying in some way as it’s a soulful career, or it’s the standard priest option because that’s the only path we have left. So let’s look at Jupiter, the ruler.
Jupiter sits within Leo in the second. Leo in the second is a sign that you should be selling yourself as it’s profitable, but we know any sort of modeling is out of the question lmao, it might just be a great asset in some other way. Jupiter in the second means there’s no issue with making money (maybe an issue with spending it if anything as it opposes mars, but that’s not a bad aspect in this case). The second house is once again pointing to a family business, it’s ruler is the sun so we just go back in a circle. In issues like these we look at the quality of the house. As I mentioned before – Leo should be selling the self. So this house wants to be able to manage itself and profit off of self-expression. So the career is pointing towards more of an entrepreneur like job despite all of it’s jupiter energy (lmao what is he a boss babe).
The only other thing we have to add is the energy of the sixth that is constantly fluctuating, plus with that Neptune sitting there it’s like what he does is truly not…it’s not usual. I’m watching The Blacklist and it feels like whatever they do, where they have to work in a secret site and not explain anything about their job – but it’s nowhere near that stiff. Plus Sagittarius means there’s no set routine and travel is abundant in order to be happy. Maybe not every day, but a lack of travel would make him restless.
FINALLY THE NODE. His node sits within the third house; communication, siblings, short journeys, etc. It’s also in Virgo which supports his sixth stellium – he wants to be of service, but needs to be able to be recognized for his work that he’s done. There is no doing stuff in silence and gaining no reward, which is slightly going against his tenth ruler.
Now the third house node is funny as hell I don’t have to spell that out. More importantly I think it’s interesting that Saturn sits alongside his Node. He has to ground himself and come back to be present, and that Saturn is showing up as being a responsible caretaker to the immediate people around him. Which works well with his Descendant as those qualities will pop up naturally. Mercury sits there so it’s probably more through communication (dryly, probably stiff, but it’s communicated). He’s battling the premise that his job is to be done not seen or heard, but his chart is urging him to understand that it’s okay to take the rewards after a hard job is done or to like pamper himself sometimes.
Mars is opposing his Jupiter so there’s a habit of pushing the bar. He might do too much because he believes he can achieve it and sometimes he can, sometimes he fucks it up. Also, Mars is a malefic (negative) meanwhile Jupiter is a benefic (positive). When they both sit in money houses that’s important to note, especially when they aspect each other. It’s like they negative the influences on the house – so mars could have him constantly ask for money or burn through it, but it’s hitting Jupiter which would mean it’s easy influx of money is also lowered. So income could come at the right time, but then he goes through it. So there’s an idea that he isn’t too worried about money because it works out as it’s worked out before.
Childhood
Okay last part because I’m talking too much honestly- Did you think I was going to ignore that pluto in the fourth lmao.
Pluto in the fourth is usually not very fun. It is a sign that something big happened during childhood and the native takes that with them. It’s changed their perception and how they walk through life and it impacts their tenth. The possibilities are usually an oppressive energy within the household, an unstable figure, being abandoned, feeling unloved. It’s possible that the family itself was fine but there was an external event that affected the home and it’s affected the native. In this case, since Pluto is squaring Mercury, it seems to be within the family and due to an event there was a shut down of expression. Act one way and that’s the only way. Especially since Pluto sits within an air sign and now Mercury sits within Cap who is usually snarky and more direct – expresses facts. I also wouldn’t be surprised if a traumatic event occurred because his sun is also in his eighth along with that Pluto in the fourth – so considering the show did this start at a young age? Those houses are known to be sensitive to this stuff. Anyway, I also see a natural channel to being a protector. In general, but mainly a big brother. Malefics within the fourth will make someone closed off but protective of others, and I already expressed my thoughts on Saturn in the third.
Saturn is also Squaring his Moon, so there’s another affect of restricted emotions or a sign of heavy responsibilities. There’s a scene from Always Sunny where Dennis talks about ‘how he’s feeling his emotions all the time like is that normal’ and that’s literally natives who have a Moon-Saturn aspect lmao. So there’s some sort of conditioning where it’s like…emotions bad control good, but it was for a reason (I wonder why).
Last bit is that Venus Squares his Saturn – which points again to having a conflicted sense of self. Some natives will hold off on love due to external factors, and then it causes a distorted view of the self. They wonder if they can ever obtain it or if they should give up on it, but it usually gets better with time (plus it’s sag influenced and he has uranus sitting in his fifth so like, this is long term not flings or whatever).
————————
Yaaaaaay
Ok that’s it. He has a T-Square but like…I generally brushed over it already. But yaaay he has a t-square go dean!
Oh. I wasn’t touching his chiron either to not upset you. You’ll be fine.
Oh yeah and who did his character end up with? Was it anyone? I wanna test out his seventh house I’m not even bothering to look at his relationships with that fifth I know that shit messy (I generally picked up on no heavy romantic energy, so whoever who he ends up with is of circumstance to put it nicely).
#if there’s anything you do PLEASE read the career section#like pretty please I’ve been working very hard on career astrology#astrology#supernatural#spn astrology
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As it is the second anniversary of it coming out, I’d like to share the manic episode I had when In Space With Markiplier came out. I had made an entire document with all of the routes to take in the first part of the special:
It never got finished (thank god) and has been sitting here in my Google docs ever since
I honestly wanna see about finishing it lol
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you're all i need
ship: Tarlos | fandom: 911 Lone Star | author: chaotictarlos | read on ao3
Rating: Explicit | Warnings/Tags: 4 x 08 "Control Freaks" Coda, 4 x 08 Spoilers, m x m smut, anal sex, anal fingering, oral sex, soft sex, soft TK Strand, Soft Carlos Reyes
Summary: TK and Carlos finally get a night to themselves to reconnect and relax after some hectic wedding planning.
Author's Note: I just really wanted a soft, smutty scene between these two after that episode. It was one of my favorites that I've seen and there really wasn't much I wanted to add to it. I hope you enjoy this. Thank you to @noxsoulmate for being my beta for this. :)
for @tarlosweeklyprompts daily word prompt "tasty"
for @paperstorm just because you've been a pal these last couple of days and you let me send you all the sneak peaks. :)
My Season 4 Fics
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TK sighs softly as he slides the door shut after his dad has left. The conversation they had was needed, and TK is glad they had it, especially after everything that has been going on with the wedding planning. He presses his forehead against the door for a moment, letting his eyes close so that he can take a moment to just exist at the moment.
When he pulls back, he looks around the loft to see if anything needs to be done.
There isn’t - he had just finished cleaning when his dad knocked on the door and since Andrea had taken Carlos out for dinner, there are no dishes that need to be done. He wishes he had something to occupy his mind but currently there is nothing but his thoughts.
He shakes his head and makes his way into their living room. He turns on the TV, throws on an episode of Friends, and sits down on the couch. He grabs his laptop and pulls it onto his lap and opens it, clicking on the Google Doc that lists the wedding plans that he and Carlos have been discussing. He clicks on the link for the suits and starts to look through them.
His father might have been right about them needing more color in their wedding attire. While TK loves the classical tuxes - and Carlos looks great in his - he does think he wants a little more color in the wedding. He clicks through a few images, looking at suits that are light blue, pink, and a deep burgundy that he knows would look great on Carlos. He bookmarks the ones that he likes and makes a note for Carlos to look at them sooner rather than later.
TK is just about to look at floral arrangements when he hears the door slide open. He gets a tangle of excitement in his belly and a smile spreads across his face because he knows that it means Carlos is home. Closing his laptop quickly and placing it on the coffee table in front of him, he gets up and makes his way around the couch.
“You’re home,” he says as Carlos steps through the door. TK walks over to him and presses a kiss on Carlos’ cheek, happy that his fiancé is finally home.
“Hey, baby,” Carlos grins and holds up the takeaway bag in his hand. “I brought you some food.”
TK takes the bag and opens it, moaning at the delicious smell of food that comes out of it.
READ ON AO3
tags: @strangefurychaos @sapphire11 @first-kanaphan @noxsoulmate @rangergurlgleek1211 @detective-giggles @tarlos-spain @lonestardust @bubblesandroses8 @thebumblecee @mooshkat @importantbailiffpaperpony @cowlos-reyes @kiloskywalker
#chaotic fics#4 x 08 control freaks#4 x 08#tarlos#tarlos fics#tk strand#carlos reyes#911 lone star#911 ls#tk strand fic#carlos reyes fic#911 lone star fic#911 ls fic
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Fire, Water and Smoke Imagery in ep 14
Over 8000 words of thoughts on the fire and water imagery in this series and now we're finally here... honestly I have spent far too many hours of my life thinking about swimming pools and cigarettes, I'll be glad for a break 😂 (actually no I won't, I'm gonna miss doing these so much!)
Let's get into it.
A callback to Porsche's phoenix, and a visual of the memory he was telling Kinn about in episode 4: to grow up and become the phoenix, and take care of himself and Chay. Porsche has held onto the freedom of being true to himself throughout, and has shown that same freedom to Kinn, allowing him to become his full self. By the end of the episode Porsche is reborn into a new version of himself, one that rules by Kinn's side: freed by their love for each other.
This shot of Gun/Kun/Kan victory smoking is almost perfectly match cut with Porsche tipping his head back in distress in the previous scene. It's a clear indication and contrast of how they are both feeling—Porsche falling apart because he has no idea what's going on or what the truth is, and Gun sitting happy in his pre-conceived victory.
Gosh RIP Daddy Chan!!! Going out in style still doing his duty to the end by warning Kinn that the minor family were coming, and lighting up a smoke to see him over to the other side. The ultimate comfort cigarette.
The pool that Vegas "dies" next to is yet another new swimming pool in the main family complex. I'm actually really glad that they didn't go with the main central one, as too much of its meaning is caught up in Korn and Kinn, and instead gave VP their own pool. They're covered in the reflections from the pool for almost all of their dialogue, and when Vegas falls (depending on which shot you look at) he's almost in the water. I've often posited that water/swimming pools have to do with the main family, and I wonder if this isn't something about the inescapability of Vegas' demise while still in that shadow—or watery reflection—of that main family.
I don't have masses of thoughts on Kim smoking but as it is my duty to report each time a character does—he's clearly thinking of Chay.
Ahhh, my beautiful episode 1 callback. The same boat. The same river. The same section of river and buildings in the background. KP on equal footing. The lights on the water throwing back to their first kiss.
And still surrounded by the water. Still surrounded by the huge mafia expanse of it. More in the heart of it, in fact, than ever. And I have to be honest—I wasn't sure it was going to end up like this. There is a part of me that wonders (hopes?) that if we do get a s2, they will be able to get away from that huge expanse of still, reflective water—get away from the leadership of it all and experience some of the quiet, loving life together that they have both dreamed of.
But is true freedom like that fully attainable, for people with so much in their pasts and such deep devotion to their families? Right now, I don't think it matters, because they have each other. They have promised themselves to each other. Mafia bosses or not, that's never going to change, and now matter where they are or how much water is surrounding them, they'll be holding on tight to each other.
And so we end up here: with the victor, and his two poor fish, kept in separate tanks trying to fight each other till someone ends up dead. Korn is still very much playing the long game. He is still very much scheming. And while he may be sitting pretty for now, I don't think the Porsche we know and love is going to allow him to remain there for long... especially not if Nampheung is the final key to the puzzle.
To read the other 8000 words of fire/water/smoking meta throughout all the episodes, you can check out my masterpost google doc [some of the earlier stuff and probably intro still needs updating], or the individual episode write-ups I've been posting here on tumblr since ep 9.
Mirrors and reflections in this episode
#kinnporsche#kinnporsche the series#kinnporsche meta#kp*#fire water series#gosh i was nervous before but now i actually want a second season so badly mostly because i have to KNOW#WHAT THE HECKITY IS GOING ON#and also i do personally want them to be as free as they can and at least go on holiday to a beach bar <3#though i am satisfied/have made my peace with them as mafia bosses for now
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X-Files Collector's Edition: The Fics That Started It All
Sometime into quarantine, I ran across The X-Files while watching YouTube reacts. Frustrated by the vague clips and loose connective tissues these vids gave, I pulled up Wikipedia and decided to venture forth on my own. My first solo episode was either Ice or Squeeze, can’t remember which. From there, I raced through the seasons at breakneck speed, but stopped cold turkey after Existence (and refused to finish the rest.) It was either a Reddit link or a Google link that brought me to Tumblr for fill-ins after S8-- and from there, magic.
The First Three (in loose order):
skuls/@ghostbustermelanieking
ghostbustermelanieking writes the best short and punchy fics; in fact, it was through perusing her Tumblr that I came to the radical realization that I love shorter fics over larger ones. Her AUs are probably her best work, period, especially if you like to-the-point stories that speak pages of meaning through a handful of words. I have (probably) all of skuls’s fics saved, but my favorites are her tiny fics on Tumblr. I fear everyday they shall be nuked into the void. (Updated: I copy-pasted them all into Google Docs, so I’m prepared for the apocalypse. >:) )
IVF Christmas is that fic that will get me goofy smiling every. single. time. Can’t help myself-- must include quote and summary:
“...But when she gets back, she finds Maggie and Mulder engaged in polite conversation, probably spurred on by the fact that he’s been in an incredibly good mood since some time this morning. He keeps catching her eyes over Maggie’s shoulder and grinning dopily. Scully smiles back.”
Scully and Mulder have just celebrated positive IVF news; and Scully, due to fly out to Cali that morning with Maggie, cannot leave Mulder behind. What follows are poignant one-off moments throughout their trip. The dialogue is stupendous. skuls is blessed with the ability to use every. tiny. detail. to flesh out her characters into fully formed, realistic people. This fic is tiny in size, but mighty in content. Many a longer fic has paled in comparison to this giant.
@baronessblixen (Ao3)
I cannot remember if I found skuls or Baroness Blixen first; but they were the anchors that locked me into this wonderfully varied world of stories. I DO know Baroness (or Anika) is the sweetest responder to anons, and got me interested in opening my own blog. I have no idea which of her fics I read first (except that it was either IVF or S8); so there’s nothing specific to link. Her fics cover all fic genres, all XF eras, all possible ins and outs. To pick just one is a crime; but I had to settle on Five Minutes (Ao3)--
“It’s time.
“I took one five minutes ago.”
“Oh,” he says. Then, once realization kicks in, his eyes grow wide. “Oh!””
--because it’s the perfect pair to skul’s above IVF fic.
(Also: if I remember correctly, this is her favorite fic: a perfect blend of complex, unavoidable pain and happy endings for Mulder, Scully, and Will on the run.)
@wexleresque/hllsteeth
I can’t remember how or when I found hllsteeth’s fics; but she has Mulder’s special brand of snark and Scully’s subtle duality down to a science. My heart immediately knit itself onto her stars fic; and I had a mini heart attack when I lost it briefly-- but LO AND BEHOLD, I have recovered it! (She’s currently writing an AU for Requiem that captures S1 Mulder and Scully to a T. Highly recommend.)
““You said you’d take him for the next two weeks,” his mother hisses into the phone from the kitchen, hardly making an effort to conceal her voice. “What am I supposed to do now, Bill?”
Fox plays with the frayed edge of his t-shirt as he sits on the stairs and listens. Upstairs, his well-worn suitcase is stuffed full of the necessities for two weeks at his father’s Vineyard house. He should be on his way there by now, listening to the sound of his father spitting sunflower seeds out the window as they carve through the New England roads. According to his mother, there’d been a hold up, something about his father’s job and a meeting with the Secretary of State. Thinking back to the feeble explanation, Fox snorts and shakes his head. He’s heard that particular line half a dozen times by now.”
This is brilliant. Mulder’s intelligence and miserable affectation in the face of his parents’ bitter back-and-forth is incredibly well-depicted. Bill’s and Tena’s emotional neglect of their son is more powerful than other fics I’ve read, which are peppered with overt physical abuse. This speaks to that cold vein of an upper-crust, older generation, where disapproval is a defter weapon than a fist. Mulder going through the motions for his father’s sake is so poignant that it hooked me forever on fanfic. (Lost this once and was immediately heartsick.)
These authors are the ride-or-die for me. Every piece they’ve written is nuanced and worth its weight in gold. But, more importantly, without them I would never have ventured into fic as entertainment, or spent a year elbows-deep into the guts of Ao3, Gossamer, and Tumblr mini-fics. May they live forever.
This was long-winded-- rest assured, from here on out my posts will be far tidier and far less rambly.
Enjoy!
#txf#x-files#xf fanfic#fic#Collector's Edition#TheFicsThatStartedItAll#wexleresque#hellsteeth#skuls#ghostbustermelanieking#BaronessBlixen#mine
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i read your wips intro/masterpost, they all look super cool (!!!) but the status sections look like they haven’t been updated in awhile—any updates?
first of all, THANK YOU!!! means a lot whenever anyone checks out my posts! i have a tendency to forget this blog exists, which i can only blame partially on my being in school; i'm part of a thriving community of writing discord servers, and so i've gotten into the habit of sharing more writing there than here. also, from the bottom of my heart, i never have any idea what to post. so thank you x2 for asking for an update, because i can certainly do that!
in the order of the intro post, shall we? (which i have now updated, because it was bothering me.)
The Mortal Realm & Quark: "starting second draft summer 2021," he said (about the first). so that was a fucking lie. summer 2021 i spent working at a children's summer camp, which, while i love kids, sapped my sickly-victorian-boy strength like tuberculosis. and then i went off to college! so quark didn't happen in the fall, either.
both of these are on indefinite hiatus for now, but not shelved! as my oldest long-running projects and the ones that saw me through some specific parts of my life, they're very important to me, and i think about the characters and plots frequently. that said, i've grown a lot since i began each one, so some of my old plans no longer align with the sort of things i like to write now... both are probably due for a rehaul, and as i'm focused on other projects atm, i'm not sure when that will be! but they idle in the back of my brain like screensavers.
A Modern Tragedy: the scripts for AMT are entirely finished! (barring the intermission episode i never wrote, i suppose.) i wrote the last words and immediately encountered some issues, namely: i know how to write, but not how to record and produce a podcast. plus, a podcast-enjoying friend of mine who read the scripts pointed out that honestly, AMT has too many characters to work as an audio drama; i have written a TV show in audio form. and speaking of things i know how to do less than producing a podcast--producing a TV show. so at present i sort of just... have this. sitting on my computer. i've half a mind to just post the scripts on this blog; if you're interested in seeing them... you can certainly shoot me a dm.
darkling: this behemoth is fully drafted, goddamn it, and i did do a round of beta readers over summer 2021. that said, this thing scares me. i am far better at drafting than i am at editing, and approaching a 200,000 word book (yes. i know. i know) to rip the seams out and kick that word count into shape intimidates me. i think perhaps we should all be very mean to me until i acquiesce to sniffing the draft through the bathroom door (??? <- will being mean to me work? unclear)
Valentine van Velt is Dead: oh now this is ridiculous; have i really not updated the intro post in over a year? i suppose not. valentine van velt is out! i posted the book in full in google doc, pdf, and epub forms; you can read it right now today!
love, h: finally something on the intro post is true. this is still in brainstorming mode, less because i haven't figured it out and more because i need to enter another intense hamlet phase to be able to write it properly. it'll happen.
godsong: ah, and we approach the reason the rest of these projects haven't gotten done. my silly little lesbian aeneid is eating my brain. in the past year and a half, i have 1. plotted an entire trilogy 2. written a book and a half 3. spiraled into related AUs for literally over a hundred words. the problem with writing a project that combines multiple hyperfixations is that it will crawl into your brainstem and never ever ever ever leave you alone. ever.
...which is to say that i've written a godsong! i've completed a first draft of the first book and i'm currently drafting the second; i've learned that editing scares me and bogs me down, so i'm riding this hyperfocus as far as it'll take me before i do a beta-reading round. this may come as a shock, because i've posted very little about godsong compared to my other projects, and again, this is because i have no idea what to post. every now and then i get frightened about posting real excerpts, in case it somehow fucks me up copyright-wise. this is a largely irrational fear that i have anyhow. i'm dicking around trying to make character moodboards for intro posts, but i keep running into the moral quandary of whether i can knowingly use unsourced pinterest images, like, morally. unrelated, yeah i do have OCD, how did you know?
thank you for asking after my projects, anon! ^_^ this was a very nice ask to receive and it reminds me i really ought to post here more often... if i ever scrounge up enough pictures from fucking unsplash, we'll see about those intros. if anyone has questions, opinions, or suggestions for future maxblog activities, feel free to shoot me an ask!
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Vlad Journal | Prologue
"At the start of the night, he was as far as he could be without blatantly sitting elsewhere. But as we went on, it was as if we were pulled together, unconsciously. A force that we did little to fight against. The rest of the night…I’m not sure I could pen it here properly. (And perhaps should not?)"
This will be an in-character journal entry summarizing Vlad's thoughts from the latest episode of The Sanguine Society. You can find the public copy of this journal here, if you prefer google docs. This particular post is a bit longer than is usually to be expected, as it contains several entries; it is also mildly NSFW, though not all entries will be. If you like to listen to music while reading, I would recommend Elegie, Op. 24 for today's entry. I Hope you enjoy 🖤
Wednesday, April the 28th, 2023
I had kaffe und kuchen with Elenor today. She found me sitting in the greenhouse again, practicing for the show. She has been such a dear since I took residence here; accommodating my 'odd' hours and habits, with hardly a question. We chatted a bit, but my German is barely conversational these days. Shame I did not pick it up more, and leaving already. But it is nice to sit quietly as well. She says she enjoys my playing, and I enjoy her company. 3 decades has gone impossibly fast.
Friday, April the 30th, 2023
Louis Roederer Cristal Brut (2008) 1.5L
Colour: Amber, Sunlight
Fragrance: wonderfully golden fruit
Savour: Opens bright and fruity; pear and apple. A bit bitter on the end; floral, but pollen
Paired with Crème Brûlée: slightly too much fruit for the dish, but lovely to sip afterwards
Transcribe to wine notes⤴️
Sunday, April the 1st, 2023
Performance with the company has been going well; we will have our final show tomorrow. And my final altogether. I will greatly miss living here. The town is quiet. This apartment is quaint, but has only gotten finer over my stay. The people have been kind and allow me to keep to myself. I think I could stay here for quite a while longer without being bothered. But it is time. Adăpost Manor cannot sit absent and idle, it is a waste. I will be meeting with Reya after the show tomorrow, and perhaps get some updates on the community while catching up. It really will be so good to see her, it has been too long. Too long since many things. When I left Adăpost, I thought I might put it up for sale before returning, but I have found myself longing more and more. To perform in the music room and to have the smell of good food in the kitchens. To sit and read in the library and to tend to the arboretum. The place has had many lifetimes already, and it will be good to get back and find footing in a new cycle. It is not a home only for I, after all. 30 years of selfishness is enough.
Monday, April the 2nd, 2023
Aurelio was at the show tonight. Aurelio.
It was no accident of course, Reya must have planned this. Though I am not sure why. I had no words, and am still in lack. After 60 years, suddenly, Aurelio walks through my place of work. I don’t know that I ever gave much thought on what I would say, if he were to return. I would not have allowed myself to dwell there. And yet, here he is. And here am I, at a loss. He was polite, as always; asking about my colleagues and the city. Feigning interest, at the least. But he was nervous too, if I am not mistaken. In some ways it was just like we used to speak; joking, laughing, touching. And in other ways, he was more frightened than I have ever seen him. He has been traveling around Europe; backpacking and visiting family. He spoke often of loneliness, and longing for the familiar, so I offered to accompany him while he is in town. He surprised me with his enthusiasm, and then even more, with an invitation to the opera. A bold proposition, coming from him. But his excitement showed genuine, and after all this time, a night out could be refreshing. A date?
My coworkers invited us to a drink and we spent most of the night at Schlenkerla, and before I knew it, it was nearly sunrise. The rest of the lot turned in after the bar stopped serving, but I was not yet ready to watch him go. So I invited him to join me, and he agreed, even without knowing where I would take him. I showed him to the greenhouse.
His delight was apparent as soon as he saw the greenery and life growing over it.
"It's like a part of the old world reclaiming what has become modern" he says.
I had forgotten what it's like to see the world through his eyes. I feel I have been missing much. We sat and talked and waited for the sun to rise. He told me more about his family; how he has been tracing his blood lines and finding the ends. How he's gotten close to some of the younger ones, despite his eccentricities. And now he is unsure of where to go next. It seems like he has grown; the travel must be good for him. As the sky grew lighter, his face glowed with joy in telling me about the different generations he's met. His love has always made him beautiful. The sun coming through the leaves and on his skin and filling the colour of his eyes…I could almost let him burn to see his beauty in direct light. But he lives in chiaroscuro, and my heart aches all the more in the limbo. I feel that the opera will be difficult, I am not entirely sure what he expects from me. But I cannot let nerves stop me. I cannot miss this.
Friday, April the 5th, 2023
Yesterday was beyond words, but I will do my best. The opera was lovely. The champagne was delicious. And Aurelio, a beacon of light in all of it. He sent me a letter, penned in his own hand, though I did not receive it until nearly too late. I hardly had time to put together something to wear. He still dresses in his classic fine things, and wears them just as well as ever. I worried at first that I had overdressed, and that I would look quite the fool showing up at his place of stay in a tuxedo. But he knows me well, and suited for the occasion just as we used to. It was as if I had taken a step back through time, and this persisted for a good portion of the night. We shared looks, we laughed, we walked arm in arm and talked and talked. About the show and technology and travel and Vienna. I admitted to him that I will be returning. He seemed a bit excited at the concept, and said that he would like to visit. Apparently he has been searching for his sire, and thought he might be able to find more information at the Manor’s library. Perhaps he could have more casual visits, along with the research.
He apologized as well, for leaving all that time ago. Though I wish he hadn't. To see the pain I had caused him etched on his face and then take the blame for it all. I can hardly stand it. But he would not hear of my reasoning, and seemed nearly desperate to explain himself. The least I can do for him is listen and accept an apology. He said he couldn't imagine being enough; that he had never stopped to ask how I had felt. It never felt like we needed to. The fact that he suited me in a fashion that no other could, always felt so obvious. Until it was too late, I suppose. It was a bit of a relief though, to finally know. He says he was afraid, and so certain he would lose me, that he somehow ended up making sure of it.
“I had not felt the way that I felt with you for any one before, and that certainly frightened me”
My heart aches at the words, but I do not dare ask if he still feels this way. The reassurance of what once was, is enough. I brought him to the townhouse after the opera, to show him the stereo system and have some more conversation. Sat on the couch next to me, sipping wine and talking music, it was almost as if he had never left. At the start of the night, he was as far as he could be without blatantly sitting elsewhere. But as we went on, it was as if we were pulled together, unconsciously. A force that we did little to fight against. The rest of the night…I’m not sure I could pen it properly here. (And perhaps should not?)
“I don't want to waste anymore time”
My hand went to his cheek, without a thought. And our lips, meeting in a second. I am shocked for a moment, and look to his eyes to find a familiar fervor. He pulls at me, and the nostalgia washes over. The touch of cold marble, the smell of orange blossom. The look of his eyes, that of dark woods at dusk. My teeth at his neck, a taste of bitter iron; and a moan rising from his chest and vibrating in his throat under my lips. A groan that laments all the wasted time, and every second lost now between touches.
Waste no time.
My hands move faster than my thoughts, strict, leading; his fingers are gentle, pleading as ever. As always. On neck, on shoulders, on chest. Our movements and his song flowing and sliding ever down and down.
I can still hear it. And this letter he wrote, I trace the characters over and over to see the movement of his hand in the starts and stops of the ink. This letter that he penned and touched and surely fretted over, I can almost smell the orange blossom on it still. Perhaps I shall write him back; it would be my move at this point, no? I would not want him to think this was a single affair to me.
Saturday, April the 7th, 2023
He is not here. I had hoped to catch him for some coffee before I departed, but that may have been asking too much too soon. It was a fine evening, and we talked of many things, but perhaps that is all that he needed. A chat, a date, some closure. I was a fool for expecting more, really. One night with him again…It will have to be enough. I have so much to attended to at the Manor in any matter, it is long time tha
He’s here.
He came to me at the train station. He is coming with me to Vienna. He will stay in the Manor with me. I can hardly believe the words as I scribble them with him getting settled into the train car.
We're going back to Vienna.
#writing#journaling#roleplay#ttrpgs#lgbt ttrpg#the other Dracula daily#rollsrevamped#the sanguine society#Vladelio#LeeLuu Writes#Vlad Dracula#Vlad's Journal
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Strange New Worlds - Episode 1
Paramount+ launched in the UK yesterday. As a side note I have a small amount of amusement as whomever designed the Disney+ website, did this one - they are identical! Anyway, the moment I finished the episode I had to login to raid so didn't have time to ramble. Let's see if I can remember stuff I thought!
So it's been 3 months since Discovery season 2 finale and Pike sure can grow a long beard in that time. I don't quite know what the logic was for showing that woman at Pike's cabin (establishing Pike is a ladies man??) especially as that's a recognisable actress and according to IMDB that's her only appearance in the show. Very strange (no pun intended haha).
Anyway, moving on. T'Pring has some major thirst for Spock. Although I confess my initial thought was why were they kissing with their mouths? I guess that was for the benefit of the casual audience as it would have made more sense as Vulcan's for their hands to be being all sensual. I read some dates and her "I won't chase you across the galaxy" kinda makes sense as isn't it like 8 years or something until the Kirk vs Spock pon farr fight?
Let's see what is next. Oh! I enjoyed the fact that Enterprise is getting patched up from the battle, all the crew are on leave unless needed, and Number One was like "nope, give me another ship I'm bored" as I got some major Eve Baird vibes from that. I watched the Librarians show premiere AGAIN the other day (I love it so much) and Eve's all "but sir what am I supposed to do for a month??" so yes very good.
Ortegas on the conn is something I want to see more of, with her dry wit of "why is it always when I'm in the Captain's chair" plus it's just the humour as well of the Captain, the first officer, Spock (who's basically second in command) just all on the away mission. Like yes lets just send our entire leadership down and hope nothing bad happens!
Oh I adored the humour and the banter between Chapel and M'Benga when they were chasing that guy around the ship. I also loved the little peek at Uhura's character. The dude was freaking out and she just chatted to him about something from his planet and totally put him at ease. Chapel practically didn't have to sedate him to be honest.
I haven't got a satisfactory answer off google and so I remain confused. Of all the characters (apart from Pike and Spock) then La'an was the one that got the most fleshing out this episode, so I'm guessing her backstory is going to be important to the seasons overall plot. However, I still don't get whether she's related to Khan or related to the scientists that created Data, or is it both? I watched Picard and when they went back to 2024 the Soong then pulled out a file which seemed to hint at Khan.
Speaking of 2024 I had a "can't quite believe they went there" moment when they showed footage with 'audit the vote' as a precursor to the second civil war and then world war three. To be honest that made me more scared than anything because it feels a bit too possible. While I would like the Star Trek future, I definitely don't want the nuclear armageddon they endured to get there.
Ok back to Pike and his soul-searching. Every now and then I find random bits on my hard drive and apparently after season 2 of Discovery I started a Pike fanfic. I had a "I don't remember this place" when I found the doc but it's a thing. Interestingly I had Pike as a prisoner in jail having done something very reckless because "if I know how I'm going to die, then my day is not today and nothing really matters" and then I was building up to basically Number One sitting on him and reaffirming what Cornwell said which is "you can't think like that, because knowing your fate doesn't give you God-like powers to just live through anything" as a bit of a reality check. This time it was a bit more subtle and La'an and Spock provided the nudge but it seems Pike got to a similar sort of headspace in the end.
There wasn't really enough Number One in this for me, and with her being the focus of the rescue mission (and then her injury) she didn't get to do anything badass either. However, I have seen some gifs and I know her moment to shine will come.
I liked the thing about consequences. I dislike that Starfleet command are idiots that don't understand them but I'm glad that Pike did. General Order Number One (aka the Prime Directive) shouldn't be a license not to clean up their own messes. As Pike said they had already interfered, so they needed to try and make it as positive as possible. The warp weapon wasn't part of their 'natural development' so letting them blow themselves up with it shouldn't be either. So good for Pike, but a bad look for Starfleet.
This was a solid episode. It had a good plot. There was some good character stuff, some humour. I wanted more but then I always do. I think they could have cut a few minutes of Pike and Spock at the start and given them to the other crew, but I'm hoping that Ortegas and the others will get their time in future episodes. That's the problem with decent ensemble casts, they'd need to double episode lengths to really give them the time they deserve.
Oh! One last thing I actually googled this after to make sure I hadn't misheard and I hadn't - Shuttle 'Stamets' I screamed because what a cool reference! I love Stamets and it was a nice nod. I mean as far as most people are concerned Discovery either never existed or was destroyed (I'm a bit fuzzy on which given the spore drive and wiping that from the records). But either way a little memorial to Stamets who is probably thought dead was nice.
I'm going to give this I think a 4/5 rating. That might go up or down on rewatches as sometimes context makes me feel differently about stuff. However, generally it was as positive and awesome as I'd hoped! Thus far I'm not disappointed and as I've kinda over-hyped this in my head, I am so relieved about that!
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psych commentary 2x03
SF, Chris Henze, KK, Andy Berman, JRr, DH. Six ppl, wow.
AB: Hi everyone, I'm Dick Chibbles & I wrote the episode
KK: Kelly Kulchak, executive producer
(in her normal way, as always, I love her sm, but she is sometimes too soft spoken for me to hear)
Chris Henze
Steve Franks
JRr: I'm the guy that played Wyatt in Weird Science
DH, in some fake bedroom voice: Dulé Hill, Actor. I'm trying to be professional, like Henze.
Thanks Doc! Glad they brought him back
"He was bit by a werewolf"
Why was it a SIX PAGE tease? (KK: it's usually two)
Lassiter doppelganger, they wanted this beautiful man to play ANYTHING so they kept trying to put him as a character
AB: I call him the "pectoral prince"
LDP stayed for the read-through of the next episode & read for Zapato
KK "Shawn is the only one in a comedy, everyone else is in a drama"
"He was like a little kid!"
"& he was just as excited to hang with you"
Her new hair!
SF: Why shoot them in sequence?
Pam Per, mildred my beloved
SF: *fighting with The Powers That Be to keep Mildred*
KK: The powers that be? You mean ME?
Mel D, smart man
KK: Do a music video with you [SF] doing lead & James & Dulé singing backup
JRr: Pull the opening titles off another show & use them for ours
"Is that TC flying a helicopter?"
An actual home depot
"This was the actor Mel Damski & Chris Henze came to fisticuffs over"
SF: There's a moment we'll tell to the listeners of the commentary track, all eight of them,
Me: Me, my mom, my brother, my other brother... Where are the other four?
Montages <3
C Earnst Hearth, awesome name
Very tall actor, that's why he's sitting
Is there a story behind the name Garrison?
AB: I should make something up
CH: Your favourite female tennis player in the 80s
AB: This is true
AB: But now you just ruined a major sexual fantasy for me
CH: I'm not the one who picked that name for him, you did! What does that say about you?
Yes, & yes!
SF: Everyone do their version. Mine is ye~s, And Ye~e~s
AB, nasally: yies, yies, &... Yie~s!
KK: Dule would you like a tuna fish sandwich?
DH: Yés, Yés!
Network: Why does he have a corn collection?
Movement!
Andy's scripts are 18 pages longer but they come out the same size because he, just like in high school, he changes the margins & reduces the font sizes so you need a microscope to be able to read it
Me too buddy, I have my writing in three columns size three. I have a draft/outline for one of my fictions in 4 columns at font 1. That google doc takes a While to load.
Andy berman be like "it's ok because I put in shawn & gus talk very fast"
The music (& lassiter just Listening, intrigued)
LDP learned to do that with a quarter specifically for that shot
KK: [lassiter] has a Man Crush
JRr: Gus & I having a private conversation 7 inches away from everyone else
Grape eating contest???? (AB failed against Pamela, but won the pushup contest by two)
SF, lying: Andy printed off a bunch of the fake TV money & bought the crew gifts
*pinap upside down cake in easy bake oven)
KK: This was questionable
SF: Not to me
CH: It was funny, just not necessary
SF: We had to work really hard to get an easy bake oven up in Canada.
*bidding war on Ebay*
"they don't have burritos up there"
"It's by a body of water"
'That's the best you could come up with?'
KK: You've been WAITING to put that line in since season one
SF: Everything is by a body of water
Poor Dule hasn't had a line in this episode yet, too many other people
Then again he can say things with just a look
Actually Pip
*singular*
"personal crush on one of the hungarian residents"
Man crush to fisticuffs
the washer & drier
Well I mean it IS european
Billy Zane
Duuude! *whispering on the commentary*
SF: They just came up with an idea for episode five of season three
"Oh dude that's genius!" *won't spoil it for us*
TO *tampering with evidence*
LDP *picks it right up*
this is where the wait for it appears ig
Shawn Spencer ultimately super cool dude, but yet with Bianca, holding a pillow to your chest
I was trying to score by appearing vulnerable & that scene turned into
Wauwh
There's got to be nothing more fun for an actor than just kissing someone who's married & their spouse is sitting ten feet away on the stage
DH: why are is he holding that PILLOW like that?
KK, crying: I don't know Dulé
SF: He's nervous & it's protecting him
who told Shawn THAT was the way to be cool & then try to get somewhere with a lady
I like that YOU are the Holly Hunter
"the silence, poor Kelly has to watch this"
'Kelly gets very uncomfortable when two human beings are kissing'
KK *laughing awkwardly*
Mel Gibson, people
KK: Wakes up in the fetal position
AB: I still want to know when Shawn put a t-shirt & boxers back on
CH: He fell asleep crying in the fetal position so that's how he woke up. It's USA network Hanky Panky, we can't show the crying & the shower
*creepy horrible location right in the hotel*
We just walked through some double doors & *shudders audibly*
Suddenly we're in chop-me-up land
We were expecting a banquet room...
Steve Franks line: we're lucky if our psychic doesn't lick the body
That's right, I totally DID wonder what the chief meant about the case being solved, like no it is More Complicated, not Solved
*the one with the flashlight back there*
AB: We don't need to see Corbin eating the pineapple upside down cake close up like that
SF: There is more footage of Corbin eating that than you could imagine.
*same purple shirt*
AB: Don't you hate it when characters never repeat an outfit?
KK: No?? Do you???
AF: Chris Henze never repeats a wardrobe in real life
CH: What's embarrassing is that I HAVE that orange shirt
SF: What's embarrassing is I didn't realize that shirt was orange
KK: Is that the one where I said "let's put it on the ground & have a picnic?"
SF, deadpan: no
JRr: What a fun little thing for you to say though?
KK: a nice little checkerboard
JRr: It's cute
KK: Nothing says "picnic" more than Chris Henze
KK: Ilike how there are people rolling by in skateboards & then there are just two guys hanging out in coats
JRr or AB: I think we should use this location more often, the exterior of the psych office.
DH: I think we shouldn't, bcause that's in whiterock
AB: That palm tree is being Blown Down
push-in
HE DID DISAPPEAR FOR A SEC
Andy "Subtle" Berman
In Mildred's luggage there was supposed to be a bondage magazine with no reference to it, just a guy in leather on the front
"Shotgun"
DH: & if you watch, all this time I'm sitting in my trailer. I came out to the shot, saw how cold it was, & asked, "Mel? Am I in this shot? No? I'll be in my trailer. If you need me, call me.
KK: $240 000 an episode; Dule is in his trailer
AB: We had to put a curtain in the entrance because it's an ambulance jet: all that's there is a single stretcher
SF: We say this every episode, but we make this show on 45 dollars an episode
*last episode he said $20, the a few before that he said $4, & the other day he said $200*
Me: ... More or less yeah
Shawn, when getting kidnapped: I'm allergic to peanuts!
SF: as if she's going to hand out snacks once they reach their cruising altitude
Adam Cohen & John Woodrard? I'm deaf, who are the composers?
"What is this?"
*Other things that fell out of the bag* AB: It could be more embarrassing, it could be something vibrating
KK: Why would she leave her cell phone in her suitcase?
AB: That's what it was
CH: That's right
LDP went to the gym every morning before showing up to set
SF: This shot almost got cut out but Lou Diamond Phillips got so sad
AB: Look at that
CH: & not a hair on the guy's body
KK: I know it's so awesome
SF: I spent an hour waxing him before this shot
KK: I didn't know that was part of your job
SF: I do it all
*James came out with no pants*
I want a 75 minute episode! Not just four minutes of deleted scenes! Give me ALL the deleted shots & extended scenes
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care
fandom: 911onfox
characters: evan “ buck “ buckley, bobby nash, athena grant, maddie buckley, ( the fire fam and christopher are mentioned )
relationships: evan “ buck “ buckley & bobby nash, athena grant/bobby nash, mentions of evan “ buck “ buckley/eddie diaz, maddie buckley/howie “ chimney “ han
rating: general audiences
warning(s): mentions of attempted self harm, no actual self harm in this story but it is assumed and mentioned quite a few times in the beginning of the story and will be brought up throughout the course of it. be safe !
setting: set during 3x06 “ monsters “ but goes au pretty much as soon as bobby shows up to the hospital.
“ hello ? “
“ is this robert nash ? “ a female voice he doesn’t recognize on the other end asks and bobby feels his brows knit together as he steps away from the sink where he had been washing up last night’s dishes, unable to close his eyes without his mind racing.
“ speaking, “ he says warily, wiping his hands on a dish towel before he moves to hold his phone more securely from where he had had it resting in the crook of his shoulder.
“ i’m calling from cedars-sinai, an evan buckley was admitted early this morning and you’re listed as his next of kin, he - “
“ what ? “ the confused and immediately worried question slipped past his lips as he started to look around for his keys, “ is he okay ? “
concern clawed at him as he thought of buck’s eager face, the deflated set of his shoulders, the plea in his voice and how last night as he walked away the confused worry on buck’s face, how he couldn’t believe bobby’s care for him. he had been angry and hurt, letting his feelings overshadow his love for buck and now buck was hurt and once again it might have been all his fault because for all his talk and thoughts of wanting to protect the younger man all he had seemed to hurt him more.
“ he’s stable, he cut himself and because of the blood thinners he was on he needed a transfusion - “
all of the woman’s other words were drowned out in a rush of white noise, static rushing to fill the void as the words he cut himself, he cut himself .. he cut himself echoed. maybe there was a rational explanation, maybe buck had simply nicked himself shaving or broke a glass but … but. there was a voice in the back of his head telling him that buck had been through so much lately, lost so much and sure they had been there for most of it, but after a while buck really had been going through it alone, the second recovery after the pulmonary embolism, the tsunami, the lawsuit … buck had been convinced he was doing it all alone and maybe one some level they had let him. guilt curled around his ribs like a familiar vice and he forced himself to breath, if that had happened, if buck was so hurt that he had done this then the kid needed him, them, now more than ever and this time he wouldn’t let himself be pushed away, wouldn’t convince himself that buck was okay, he’d there, they all would.
“ I'll be right there, “ bobby was quick to hang up the phone, pocketing it as he finally spotted his keys hung up on the rack and was out the door and down the driveway before it could even swing shut.
∞
“ mr. nash ? “
the call of his name stopped bobby’s pacing and his debates over whether to call his wife or maddie or anybody, but every time he thought about what to say the words dried up in his throat and now at least he could put those aside for now, “ how is he ? is he okay ? can i see him ? “
“ take a breath, mr. nash. “ the doctor instructed him not unkindly, “ i’m doctor rice, i’m the one who treated him. your son’s going to be just fine, I can take you to see him right now, if you’ll just follow me. “
“ thank you, “ the words seemed hollow, seemed not enough as he spoke them but, she seemed to understand, once more giving him a kind smile before leading him past the double doors and into a quiet room where the lights were dimmed and it was only when they were in the quiet and he could see buck in his sights that what she had said finally filtered through;
your son’s going to be just fine
when she had first said that he had just focused, clung to the fact that buck was going to be okay that he hadn’t even really registered the wording she had used. it wasn’t the first time someone had mistaken buck as his kid, whether teasingly or seriously and he usually just shook his head, brushed it off, a few times with a smile, sometimes with a declaration that buck wasn’t his kid, but maybe it finally the weight of everything that had happened, maybe it was sitting across from buck at arbitration having their relationship pieced apart, maybe it was his wife’s words, maybe even it was the way buck looked at him with worry and fear when he had told him to go home, but maybe it was mostly standing in his kitchen with a nurse telling him that his kid was hurt...
… he just didn’t correct them this time, held onto it for just a little while longer.
the early morning light filtered through the pale curtains of the room and cast a pale glow over the sleeping young man curled up in the chair.
“ like i explained he needed a transfusion just to be safe and antibiotics. after he was all cleaned up he crashed, been in and out since. “
bobby nodded, making his way to buck’s side, resting a shaky hand on the side of his face not hidden in the blankets and finally breathes. buck for his part snuffled in his sleep, leaning into the touch with the softest of sounds like nothing was wrong at all anymore.
oh, kid …
“ he should be fine to leave once he’s up, cuts were sealed up and he ran out the antibiotics and transfusion, just need to sign him out. “
“ thank you, really, thank you, “ she reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder with a sympathetic smile, “ i’ve been really worried about him, lately. “
“ i think we always worry about the ones we love, no matter how old they get, “ doctor rice said, shaking her head with a soft laugh, “ but your kid ? you don’t have to worry too much, he’s a hero, saved that guys life last night and the woman’s too, neither of them would have made it too long if he hadn’t found them when he did. “
confusion washed through him at her words and he found him fishing for words, all the thoughts that had been lurking and growing in the dark recesses of his brain falling away in the realization of her words, “ he didn’t … he didn’t do this ? “
similar confusion played across the doctor’s features before realization dawned and she immediately shook her head, eyes wide, “ oh, oh mr. nash i am so sorry i thought the nurse had explained his injuries, i had no idea .. “ she shook her head once more, features firm as she explained, “ your son didn’t hurt himself, from what i understand he found a woman with a man through her windshield of all things. the woman herself had a bleed in her brain and the man was in need of serious care as you can imagine and he managed to pull them over and keep them stable until help arrived, he saved their lives. “
“ it’s what he does, “ bobby said, a lump in his throat and a sad smile crossed his lips, fingers gentle as ever stroking along blonde curls, “ drives me crazy sometimes with it, “
“ don’t they all, “ was the fond response he got as she walked away, clipboard held to her chest, “ i’ll give you two the room, whenever he’s up just let the charge nurse know and they’ll set up with discharge. “
#→ care / unfinished#→ and he thought of the way buck would hold onto his hand so tightly like he would fall away if he let go / evan buckley & bobby nash#→ here to stand between you and the chaos / 911onfox#this one should thankfully just be a long one shot but who knows with me at this point#this has been sitting in my google docs since that episode#because i was reading other fics and then the thought hit my head that without clarification and with buck's history of depression#and bobby's knowledge of how dark things can get when you feel like that it would have been so easy for him to go worst case scenario#so i really wanted to just expand a little on that without taking away the goodness that was their talk in that ep#so i didn't really rewrite things so much as tweak and expand#because honestly it was one of my favorite eps#and i figured hey what better time to clean out my docs again then the hiatus#because everyone is looking for more things to read#happy holidays ducklings !
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OKAY HOLD THE FUCKIN PHONE FOLKS, IT’S TIME FOR MORE CRAZY CAMPAIGN 3 META AND THEORIZING.
I’m still working on my ridiculous Pepe-Silvia-esque conspiracy theory post after Ep 13, don’t worry. I literally have a whole Google Doc going full of notes and quotes and the occasional timestamp if I feel it’s relevant. But I’m currently rewatching Episode 8 and have reacquainted myself with some info about Cyrus’s problem that has lead to a whole new theory, which I think is very related.
So buckle up, let’s dive into it. Spoilers ahead for Episodes 7 and beyond, if you’re not caught up on that.
To quickly recap: Ep 8 is the one where the Gang (as I’m calling them for now) sits down to talk with Chetney after killing the wall-monster. During that convo, Dorian introduces them to his brother Cyrus, who then proceeds to tell them about the mess he’s in. Now I’m sure I’m not alone here, but in the time since that episode aired (just before Xmas) and now, I’d definitely forgotten a few things. But these are the biggest facts that I think the Gang and we the audience still remember for sure:
Cyrus was hired to help protect a caravan that was hauling a bunch of money and a mysterious crate. The other people who were hired to guard it turned out to be thieves who proceeded to steal a bunch of the gold being transported, as well as a weird stone golem which they commanded to help them.
Cyrus, who had no knowledge of any of this, was left behind to take the fall. He was accused of being part of the plan, arrested, escaped, and subsequently had a 20,000 GP bounty placed on him.
Cyrus noted that the crate the golem burst out of had the initials J.H. on it. And Ashton was later able to confirm that the golem had belonged to his sort-of patron/sort-of blackmailer Jiana Hexum, who seemingly has a special interest in golems, as evidenced by the two stationed outside her house.
Now based on all this, it’s clear the Gang/the cast have been operating under the assumption that Jiana Hexum is the one who put out the bounty on Cyrus. After all, the golem was clearly a big ticket, high value item that she was angry about losing and very much wants back. She’s indicated that she has people working on trying to get the golem back, and the Gang has been treating her as the one they’d need to please in order to get Cyrus’s bounty removed.
Part of this is probably because at 2:25:00, Matt tells the Gang that they didn’t specifically ask Cyrus who hired him and/or put out the bounty on him, meaning Cyrus didn’t specifically tell them that info. From that point on, they focus on figuring out who J.H. is, and when they learn who it is, treat her as the one they need to bargain with.
But Matt’s a (very lovely) human being, contrary to what some people out there seem to think. And he sometimes forgets or misremembers things. And in fact, at 1:32:04, FCG does ask Cyrus who hired him, to which Cyrus responds that the bounty on him was put out by the guild who runs that caravan: the Gold Guild of Treshi.
This was significant at the time. After all, the Gang had just discovered that House Treshi owned the Stone Mason’s Guild which would have been responsible for repairs in the alley behind the Dreamscape Theater. But at that time, we didn’t even know who Armand Treshi was or how important this house would become, so it could have been a red herring. And I think due to Matt’s later mistake and to the growing importance of Jiana Hexum as the plot has progressed, this tidbit of information was left behind. (To be clear, not the cast’s fault—they’re busy adult people who cannot reasonably be expected to remember every tiny detail. I just happen to be someone with a disturbing amount of free time on their hands to comb through for this shit.)
So here’s where my brain got to spinning about this. To me, it seems Extremely Unlikely™ that either House Treshi with all their power and money OR a guild they control wouldn’t be able to screen their hired security for potential threats. Yes, it is technically possible that this group of thieves were really just that good, and managed to hoodwink the Gold Guild into hiring them.
But really? A guild that we can presume is responsible for handling and transporting the riches of the Mahaan houses—possibly for any and all banking in Jrusar—and which is owned/managed by one of the most powerful Mahaan houses in all of the Oderan Wilds, cannot be bothered to double check that their hired security isn’t going to turn on them and jack their goods?
Nah. Nah nah nah. I call bullshit. Rich people care more about their money than other people’s lives; they wouldn’t leave their gold (or their prized possessions) in the hands of anyone they thought would steal it.
Unless they meant for those people to steal it.
I propose that the caravan robbery wasn’t just a setup by some petty thieves looking to make bank. It was a setup by Armand Treshi.
It goes like this:
Armand’s house runs the Gold Guild. Through this, he knows that a caravan they manage is going to be moving a ton of gold and at least one really valuable and handy golem.
Armand hires a group of thieves to stage a robbery of the caravan. We can’t be sure what he told them to take, but Cyrus said the thieves were surprised that the golem came awake during the heist. So it seems like maybe they were only told to steal money.
To get access, Armand arranges for the Gold Guild to hire these thieves as the caravan’s protection. And as part of this plan, the Guild also hires Cyrus, someone who isn’t part of the group or the plan, to be the fall guy.
The plan goes off without a hitch. The thieves make off with a fuckton of cash, and when the golem wakes up, their leader Nova orders it to start helping them round up gold and come with them. Cyrus is left behind and is royally boned.
The Gold Guild and House Treshi have Cyrus arrested, and when he escapes, they put out the great whoppin’ bounty on his head. This gives them plausible deniability. How could they have known their hired help was going to rob them? They just lost a ton of money, too! They’re also victims here, and they’re determined to get justice!
Meanwhile, the thieves take their loot and the golem back to Armand. Armand now has a buttload of money that is officially off the books, which he can put towards nefarious uses. Such as, oh I dunno, hiring a terrifying fey creature to do magical experiments for him? Or giving his lackey Vali Dertrana the money to hire a famously expensive bounty hunter to bag a werewolf? Or buying and moving a lot of illegal brumestone? ;)
He also now has a pretty sweet stone golem that he can use however he sees fit! I’m on the fence as to whether he meant to acquire it or not, but I’m leaning much closer to yes he did. Like I said, he has the hookup to know exactly what was in that caravan, and seeing as he’s clearly into some shady shit, I bet he’d see the golem as a potentially valuable tool.
So, where does this theory leave us? Well, that depends. I also theorized during the stream of Ep 13 that Cyrus and the Corsairs were being manipulated by Emoth Kade, who was setting them up to be captured by the Paragon’s Call during the ball, as part of a larger play by Armand to get Paragon’s Call instated into the city and weaken the Corsairs.
If any of these theories holds any water, then our beloved himbo is fucking screwed. Depending on just how nefarious and deep you think Armand’s schemes go, you could extrapolate from here that Armand and Emoth aren’t just setting the Corsairs up to be captured. Maybe they specifically manipulated Cyrus, knowing that the bounty the Gold Guild has on him would motivate him to make more money to pay it off. Maybe they’re not just hoping to strike a public blow to the Corsairs, but they’re also hoping to catch the quarry of their bounty and show that House Treshi is the only one doing anything to stop the rampant problems in the city.
(For that matter, I have questions about how Cyrus escaped when he was arrested. He’s... not exactly a super genius, and I say that with nothing but love. We don’t know where he was held or by who, but it’s safe to assume he was put in the Granite Hold prison. Did the Corsairs help him escape? Or did Armand Treshi secretly arrange his escape, so that he could get a bounty out for the “thief’s” arrest and provide a further distraction to keep suspicious eyes away from him?)
Tbh, I have no fucking clue. I think it just supports the growing notion I have that Armand isn’t just looking to gain a little extra clout in Jrusar. He’s after something much, much bigger. If most of the threads the Gang have been stumbling upon really do lead back to Armand, as I believe they do, then this fucker seems to be primed to pull some major hostile takeover shit.
That’s the beauty of CR and Matt’s plotting/worldbuilding abilities, though. There’s so many ways all of this can go still, and no matter how many theories I or anyone else comes up with, we’re all gonna be surprised by whatever he pulls out of his bag. (And given the Gang’s penchant for chaos, Matt himself might even end up surprised ksjdfhdsk)
#Critical Role#campaign 3#critical role meta#critical role theory#c3 theory#c3 meta#critical role spoilers#cr spoilers#campaign 3 spoilers#Bree's stuff#about me#about Bree
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In honor of the MAG200 anniversary, here’s the opening of the fic I wrote beginning to end in a grieving haze in the 24 hours after the final episode dropped, then left sitting in my google docs for a year. Lmk if I should post the rest 😅
This time, Annabelle is the one who knocks.
Mother would have liked that. Circular narratives make for satisfying endings, and Mother always loved a performance. It’s unsurprising that Annabelle still plays her role, even when her audience has left the theatre of their world for all the realities beyond. Even if she’s no longer a titanic beast made of millions of spiders and the tatters of her human form, Annabelle cannot help but dance on Mother’s strings. It’s all she’s ever done. Anyway, it’s not as though the safehouse has a buzzer. While the building may be close enough to the nearest village to receive weak cellular reception, its walls stand unblemished by electronics in the shadow of the treeline.
She knocks again. Martin Blackwood opens the door, takes one look at her, and slams it shut.
“That’s a bit rude,” she calls after him.
“Fuck off!”
Not the most auspicious of openings, but Annabelle is patient. Her new housemates will need time to adjust to her presence. While she’ll be sorry to lose her banter with Martin for a while, she isn’t surprised that taking him hostage put a damper on their blossoming friendship. He’ll come around eventually. “Glad to see your comebacks haven’t improved since the end of the world. I’d hate for Arun to think he has competition in the poetry department.”
“I have bug spray in here,” Martin threatens.
She raises her brows. “Won’t do much good, will it? Not now you two have banished our patrons.” Though that’s bound to be a touchy subject. Speaking of which… “How is Jon, anyway?”
“I also have a knife.”
Annabelle pauses. She doesn’t doubt he’ll use it, especially if Jon is in bad shape. It would be embarrassing to get herself murdered within a week of the world being saved. Not that she’ll survive much longer in the post-apocalyptic world without help.
“Could you at least lend me a hat?” Annabelle asks. “Bit challenging to hide that I’m missing half a skull.”
A beat, and then the door wrenches open. A knit cap hits her in the face.
“Appreciate it!” she calls cheerily.
“Just leave us alone.”
She ignores his voice cracking. “I’ll be back in a few with supplies. Any special requests?”
“Yeah, I told you, I request that you fuck. Off.”
“Sorry, I can’t hear you, there’s a door in the way. Be back soon!” Annabelle counts the strangled noise of frustration as a win. She stuffs enough grass in the cap to disguise the hole in her cranium and heads into town.
Tracking Martin down was a stroke of good fortune. She hadn’t been sure she’d find him up here. It’s a long journey from London up to Scotland, but given this was the one place he and Jon had ever known safety, she’d put her money on them retreating to the safe house. Now she just needed to convince them to let her inside, too.
#tmanniversary#tma spoilers#mag 200#the Magnus archives#jonmartin#Annabelle cane#that’s right folks it’s the roommates au#also featuring#Oliver banks#(eventually)#and good cows
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let's save the world
season two, episode eight
five hargreeves x reader
summary: five has one last plan to get back to twenty nineteen.
warnings: cursing, drinking, nothing extreme really
word count: 2.8k
a/n: i don't want to talk about how long it's been since i've last done absolutely anything on here lol. apparently i've had the draft of this almost completely done for a whole... year, maybe? just saved in my google docs. but better late then never? thank you if you're still here and still read this lol
“we were that close.” you whisper to yourself as you go up the stairs, “so close.”
the door to one of the rooms slams behind you as you quickly look through the cabinets, before finding a bottle of whiskey. the only thing you need right now.
you twist the cap off, tossing it to the side as you sit on the couch with a heavy sigh.
you can hear luther speaking as he presumably follows five up the steps, but you don’t focus too much on what he’s saying. something about making a new plan, which almost makes you laugh. no other plan would ever work, if this one didn’t.
the door opens once again as five enters, slamming it shut and locking it before luther can come in behind him. “five!” the big man shouts outside of the door, knocking on it, “come to what?” a sigh follows shortly after, and you hear his steps recede, apparently giving up.
You look to five, holding the bottle out, “want some?”
When he takes it, you expect him to take a drink, not find the cap and twist it back on, “what are you doing?” he questions.
“what are you doing?” you shoot the question back, reaching for the bottle, “if you didn’t want any, you didn’t have to take it.”
he looks at you incredulously, holding it out of your reach, “we still have an apocalypse to stop! you can’t just be sitting in here drinking!”
at that, you let out a loud laugh, yet nothing about this is funny. “you’re kidding, right?” you raise an eyebrow, sinking into the cushions, “i’m done with that.”
setting the booze on the coffee table, his eyebrows furrow at you, “what do you mean? you can’t be done with it. we don’t have much time!”
“don’t you get it, five?” you lean forward as you look up at him, “we can’t stop this. No matter how hard we try, we’ll never be able to. there’s always something that gets in the way when we get seconds away from actually doing it. let’s face it, the world is against us, and this apocalypse is happening.” you sound defeated, and you hate hearing it. you never wanted to give up, to let the world get the best of you. it tried to before, and you persevered. but none of that matters anymore, because soon enough, you'll be nuked and your existence won't have mattered.
he’s shaking his head in disbelief, “no. no, it isn’t. you’re supposed to be the one helping me, y/n! we can still do it.”
“and what’s your plan this time? do you even have one?” you can feel the tears brimming your eyes, and you hate feeling this weak in front of him, but there was no stopping it now.
“i do.” he states, “but i need you to help me.”
sitting on the couch next to you, turned in your direction, he gently grabbing your hand, “i can’t do it without you.”
-
you were currently in the kitchen, chugging down as much water as you could from a pitcher before passing it along to five. This plan was so, so stupid. he began to drink from it as well, and luther, who had been napping on the couch, entered.
“five, what…” he glances between you putting baby powder anywhere on your body you deemed necessary, and to him, taking in a breath as he flipped the top closed on the pitcher. “are you guys okay?” he questions in confusion.
“we need to be hydrated.” he breathes out, and you hand him the baby powder once you were finished.
if it was possible, luther’s confusion grew, “what’s with the baby powder?”
“it’ll help with the itching.” you state, giving no further explanation.
“what itching? there’s itching? what the hell is going on here?” as five puts some of the powder in his pants, realization dawns on his face, “you do have a plan.”
grabbing his blazer, five sighs, “well, it’s a desperation move, but… since our brain-dead siblings are incapable of meeting a simple deadline, well- we have no choice.”
“no choice about what?” luther questions as you both follow him into the living room.
“we have to find ourselves.” you state simply, flipping the watch you took from the formerly sleeping man- since he no longer needed it- open.
luther is so stunned, trying to process it, that he doesn’t speak. “we just arrived in dallas fifteen minutes ago.” you state, closing the watch and sticking it back in your pocket.
“should i be worried about you guys?” luther finally asks, his eyebrows furrowing at the two of you.
“luther, if you recall,” five speaks as he begins to stretch, “we were sent to nineteen sixty-three on a job by the commission to make sure the president was assassinated.”
“oh!” luther starts to understand, “so, wait, your old self is out there.”
“precisely.”
“what, just walking around dallas?”
“walking around dallas with a briefcase that can get us home.” you tell him with a smile. now, if this plan didn’t work, you were truly screwed. of course, the older looking versions of yourselves won’t give up the briefcase so easily, but you know for a fact you can do it. and with that briefcase, there wouldn’t be a time limit. you could get all of the siblings together and finally be rid of the apocalypse.
“oh, my god.” luther’s hands come together in front of him, “you are geniuses.”
“however, there are two significant problems with this plan.” five tells him, you nodding along, “problem number one: we are two trained assassins, arguably the most dangerous assassins in the space-time continuum. If we know ourselves, we’re not going to react kindly to bumping into us.”
you knew it sounded like you were giving yourselves a pat on the back, but he wouldn’t be saying it if it wasn’t true. and it definitely was.
“problem number two,” he paces, “this is the real fly in the ointment here: you’re not supposed to exist in close proximity to yourself in the same timeline. the side effects can be disastrous.”
luther seems as if he’s trying to process all of this, “side effects? what sort of side effects?”
“well, according to commission handbook chapter twenty-seven, subsection three-b, the seven stages in paradox psychosis are…”
“stage one: denial.” you begin counting off on your fingers,
“two: itching.” five looks to his brother,
“three: extreme thirst and urination,”
“four: excessive gas,”
“five: acute paranoia,”
“six: uncontrolled perspiration,”
“and seven:” you pause for a moment, dropping your hands, “homicidal rage.”
“homicidal rage?” luther questions, to which both of you confirm, “jeez, i don’t know. this maybe isn’t such a good idea.”
five begins to pace again, throwing his arms to the side, “it’s a hail mary. but what choice do we got, luther?”
leaning against the door frame, the large man shrugs, “i don’t know, you already seem a bit squirrely if i’m being honest.”
“listen luther, we’re gonna need you to help us get through this one, alright?” you stand in front of him, “we need… a spotter.”
“a spotter?”
“yeah,” you breathe out.
his eyebrows furrow, “what is that, like a wingman?”
“in case the paradox psychosis gets too severe,” five strides over, “we need you to help us stay on task, alright? so whatever happens, whatever we say, we need to get that briefcase. okay?”
“okay,” luther breathes.
“okay.” your shoulders relax.
both you and five turn and make your way to the steps, and you barely realize that luther is still at the doorway, staring in front of him. “luther, come on!”
“right.”
-
there’s an irish jig playing as you enter the bar, and chatter fills the air between the people inside, sitting at tables and at the stools along the bar countertop. you look around, skimming over all of the people, until you see them. or- you and five. it’s weird, seeing the older looking woman who sat next to the older looking five. you barely recognized them, since you had been looking at your thirteen year old selves for a few weeks now.
“there we are.” five has spotted them as well. sitting at the bar, the briefcase on the raised wood that acted as a footrest between the two older versions of you.
“why don’t we just grab the briefcase and run?” luther asks.
“luther, we would never let that happen.” you tell him, looking up at him for a second, “we’re trained to guard those briefcases with our lives.”
“right.”
“plus, it’s the inherent paradox where this gets tricky.” five adds in. “we’re endangering our existence just being in the same room with ourselves.”
“huh? what do you mean?”
you roll your eyes, “luther, keep up. if our old selves don’t travel back to twenty-nineteen like we’re supposed to, the whole thing unravels itself. we cease to exist. got it?”
“i… got it.” he doesn’t seem to, but you decide not to try to explain further and confuse him even more.
“so our best chance is to talk with them, to reason with them.” five rolls his shoulders back, “they’ll understand. trust me. i know us better than… better than i know us.” the sentence is confusing, but the point gets across.
as five reaches up to scratch his neck, luther is quick to point it out, “you just itched your neck- that’s stage two of paradox psychosis.” he whispers urgently.
“no i didn’t.” five states, “i didn’t itch my neck.”
“denial is stage one.” the large man points out.
“let’s stay on task, shall we?” you wave towards the two of you sitting at the bar, and as you’re about to step forward, luther reaches his hand out to stop you.
“wait!” you look at him in a mix of confusion and annoyance, “maybe i should go first.”
“why?” five asks him, also confused.
“well, you’ll freak them out.” he motions at the two of you, “bumping into your own tiny doppelganger? they’ll lose their shit.” he looks to the older versions of you, “just, let me break the ice.”
five glances around, sighing, “okay.”
“okay.” luther breathes out slowly, and you watch as he approaches the two older yous. you’re not sure if you can trust him one hundred percent.
as he begins to speak, the two of you very quickly get confused and on guard. meanwhile, you unconsciously grab hold of five’s hand to approach. “nope! don’t freak out. no freak-outs. alright.”
as the large man slowly steps to the side, you see yourself- your old self- tense up at the sight of younger looking you. “hey there, stranger.” your five speaks up, and the two older yous are almost shaking in their shoes from the shock and confusion.
you swear you see fear in your own eyes. it’s a look you remember seeing when you first landed back in twenty-nineteen and looked in the mirror at the you that had gotten stuck in the apocalypse. the you that was stuck alone for years until the commission brought you back to five. it was jarring to you as well, at first.
you remember staring into your own eyes. the little girl who had held five’s hand as he discovered the full extent of his powers, until it disappeared from her grasp and she was left in a smoldering, crumbling world.
-
the five of you had gotten a table, and you sat across from your older self, gaze unwavering. out of the corner of your eye, you could see the two fives glaring at each other.
“well, isn’t this nice?” luther breaks the silent tension, “the five of us, together like this.”
“no.” all four of you speak in unison, and luther is clearly uncomfortable, almost squirming in his seat.
the old five doesn’t look away from himself as he begins to speak, “somebody explain to me how it is i’m having a pint of guinness with my younger self.”
“older, actually.” the five sitting next to you states, “i’m you, just fourteen days older.”
“i have pubic hair smarter than you.” the other says coldly, his fingers laced together on the table in front of him, “how’s that possible?”
“i can explain,” the younger seeming boy responds, “you see, one hour from now, on the grassy knoll, before the president is killed, you break your contract with the commission.” he leans forward slightly, “i already know you’re thinking about it. all those years in the apocalypse, we never stopped worrying about our family. well today, you’re going to do something about it.” he sits up straighter.
“today, you are going to attempt to time travel back to twenty-nineteen. however, you are going to screw up the jump, and end up in this twip of a body.” he points to himself with his two thumbs. “trapped forever, small, pubescent.”
“Okay.” the older one finally breaks his stare, shaking in his seat, “even if i was to believe you, what am i supposed to do, not jump?”
“no, no.” you break away from the eyes of yourself, “we need you to jump. if you don’t jump, we cease to exist.” you motion between yourself and your five, “what we need is for you to jump correctly.”
“i’m listening.”
“the first time through, i got the calculation wrong. that’s how we ended up in these bodies.” five begins to explain, “but now, i know the correct calculation.”
the other is almost on the edge of his seat in anticipation, “what is it?”
“he’ll tell you.” you tell him, causing his gaze to turn to you instead, “in exchange for the briefcase you’re holding under the table.”
“yeah, yeah.” luther speaks up from where he’s sitting, “so now, you go back to twenty-nineteen, as planned, but this time with the right math, so you remain a full grown man. in exchange for that briefcase that you no longer need.” he points to the space between the older yous where it rests, a smile on his face.
“timeline restored, paradox resolved.” five speaks, “everyone goes on, existing happily ever after.”
the older you finally breaks her silence, “that’s quite a bit to take in.”
everyone’s heads turn towards her, “what do you think?” five asks, glancing between the two of them.
“i think,” older five says, “i need to piss.” he promptly states, standing from his seat and grabbing the briefcase, heading in the direction of the bathrooms. older you quickly looks between all of you, before also standing up and heading in that direction as well. you have a feeling that they’ll be discussing the situation at hand.
once they disappear down the hall where the bathrooms are, luther breaks the short silence that fell between the three of you. “well, besides the flop sweat, i think that went pretty well, right?” you had barely noticed, but there was, in fact, beads of sweat on your face, and you grabbed one of the napkins to wipe it away while luther patted one to five’s face.
“no, there’s something…” five fidgets in his seat, “something doesn’t feel right about this.”
luther is confused, which you’ve noticed happens a lot. “what… what do you mean?”
agreeing with five’s sentiment, you shake your head, “i don’t trust them.”
“but… they’re you.” he states in confusion.
“exactly.” the two of you speak in unison.
“well… i’m going to go to the bathroom too… maybe talk to them?” it’s more of a question as he stands up before quickly scurrying away.
“they’re planning something.” you state, leaning back in your seat as you scratch the back of your neck.
nodding, five takes a drink from his glass, “we have to be ready for whatever it is. we’re dangerous.”
“very.” you tap your fingers against the table, “they might even try to kill us.”
he glances at you, “maybe.” his eyes dart towards the bathroom before falling back on you. “but we’re still fourteen days older. we have the advantage of knowing who they are and what they can do, and that we can do it better.”
“right.” you look away from him as you see the bathroom door open, all three of the others walking out. older you adjusts the cuffs of her suit, and they all seem to be standing quite uncomfortably- you were right. they made a plan.
“we good?” five asks as they all stop in front of the table.
“we’re good.” your doppelganger states. “you’ve got a deal.”
“we’ve gotta hurry.” the older five says, “kennedy’s en route. less than an hour until showtime.”
five stands up and you follow suit, scratching the back of your neck. “why are you so anxious to get going all of a sudden?” you question.
“relax…” older you tells you, “you’re getting paranoid.”
“oh, are we?” five raises an eyebrow. it almost seems like him and the older him are about to tackle each other.
“okay, let’s roll!” luther quickly begins walking away. the older yous follow and after glancing at each other, you and five do as well.
taglists
main: @horrorklaus @megasimpleplan4ever
tua: @rasberrymay @noodlextrash @atomicpillar @malfovs @andreasworlsboring101 @lunylovelovegood
five taglist: @anapocalypseinmymind @five-hargreeves-official @insatiable-ivy @coffee-e-addict @xplrreylo @fandomfreakff @colie-babi @flowertoty @avovada @badwolf00593
let’s save the world: @aspiringwriter1 @thetrashypanda423 @lilacs-lavender @wow-lookit-all-the-fandoms @ohmyitsfaith @xplrreylo @fandomfreakff @onedollarduck @sleepygal124 @faith-quake @stripedchickens @youcandalekmyballs @pettyjayy @libidinexx @bts-chub @theoriginalkat @flowertoty @whenyouwantdeath @ot7purple @purblerain @megasimpleplan4ever @whenyouregrungeaff @dumdumsun @malfovs @hxney-lemcn @frnks-stuff @imwaytootires @avovada @badwolf00593 @dumdumsun @zero2461
#tua#the umbrella academy#umbrella academy#five hargreeves#number five#tua x reader#the umbrella academy x reader#umbrella academy x reader#five hargreeves x reader#number five x reader#five#five x reader
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Wizard breakdown tracker week 2: episode 132
Welcome again to the post in which I assess how close the various wizard NPCs of Exandria are to Losing It, an exercise in reminding me that though things may seem dark now, one day Trent Ikithon will be brought to justice, which is the fun euphemism I have for “zero hit points and also on fire”.
I suspect we’re really only going to see Essek for a while such that this may eventually become a space for real thoughts on Essek, wildly speculative thoughts on the volstrucker wizards, Allura/Kima domestic fluff, and elaborate jokes about Eadwulf’s name and Yussa’s predicament, but I am committed.
As a reminder: Caleb Widogast is not eligible due to being a PC. Wizard NPCs for whom I have no updates, whether it’s because they have not appeared recently or simply because I don’t find them interesting enough; my deepest apologies to the Oremid Hass stans.
Someone in my notes from last week’s post asked where Known Gem Wizard Hotsauce Lutefisk was. The answer is that he is in a gem. Hope this helps.
Archmage of Antiquities Lady Vess DeRogna is still dead.
Ludinus Da’leth: with Yussa (hopefully temporarily) out of the running he’s suddenly feeling more confident in his chances at winning Wildemount’s Least Fucks Given competition but doesn’t know why, and with Jester in the north a sudden sense of peace has come upon him.
Conclusion: 0/10. He’s taking a nap in his tower in a sunbeam like an evil cat as we speak.
Trent Ikithon: It’s only been a day or so since Caleb delivered what is truly probably the sickest burn he’s ever experienced; this man probably doesn’t care about 99% of what people say to him but Caleb saying he’s not the biggest thing on his mind? That’s gonna hit. Also presumably the trail went cold after Nicodranas, in more ways than one.
Conclusion: 5/10 and simmering; by the time the Nein return to civilization he should be about ready to explode.
Essek Thelyss: While it’s only been a few hours honestly I think he’s already doing better. He’s in a weird freezing ruin and there was a fight with another one coming, but he’s being useful! He’s been given trust and friends! He got to show off a lot of very cool spellcasting! Also have you ever been super anxious and your friends, rather than trying to talk through anything, are just incredibly fucking weird to the point where it takes your mind off things because what is happening even? That’s the mood. Oh and also, he may still be worried about the Assembly bearing down on him but I have to imagine Yasha’s display of swordcraft is helping.
Conclusion: 7/10. To paraphrase Caduceus there’s a certain baseline of happiness when you’re in a freezing ruin full of brown mold, but the distraction is welcome.
Astrid Beck: It’s tough that she’s offscreen because like, her mental state is going to be governed heavily by Trent’s but specifically if he seems on to her. Also while my bets are against the volstrucker trying to teleport into the ruins of Aeor she’s probably going to be in a worse state if she might have to face Caleb again.
Conclusion: holding at 8/10 until further notice.
*Black Francis voice* I believe in Mr. Eadwulf Grieve: *sits backwards on chair* Look, son/daughter/child, we all at some point in our lives project a lot of things on to a mysterious but intriguing NPC. Your Verins; your Urayas; your Vandrans. Mine? Well, mine is a wizard whose name we don’t entirely know how to spell and who we mostly know is strong and likes the Raven Queen and was not exactly the third wheel we long believed him to be. Anyway, I like to imagine Eadwulf as a calming presence, with Astrid the more-high-strung leader, albeit calming presence because he immediately gets drunk after stressful situations.
Conclusion: I’m going to say 4/10. I think he’s one of those people who’s like, super smart but also when the problem is not directly in front of him he’s like well nothing to be done now.
Pumat Sol: Much as I love him, no updates for now and he will probably be moved to the “not recently seen” group. I hope a heavily disguised Yeza has stopped by though for more top toys after one of the mobsters got really into it.
Conclusion: 1/10, respectfully.
Allura Vyesoren: She is assuming at this point no news is good news, which will change after a few days, but also Lady Kima keeps busting in with a sword the size of herself yelling “I JUDGE THEE, MAGICIAN”
Conclusion: holding at 3/10.
Yussa Errenis: WE BUILT THIS CITY! WE BUILT THIS CITY ON WIZARD’S SOULS!
Congrats on the gender, sorry about...you know.
Conclusion: to ℵ-null and ℵ-null and beyond/10. In related news I am submitting a bug reports to both Tumblr and Google Docs for not accounting for the outlier formatting case of Cardinality Georg.
#as mentioned elsewhere nothing is funnier than just calling Ikithon Tront#but puns on other wizards' names are very funny#critical role#critical role spoilers#wizard breakdown tracker#your music references this week were Mr. Grieves by the Pixies and We Built This City by Jefferson Starship
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