#he finds his uncle practically dead on the floor

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐑𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐫𝐚, 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐚𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ female, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!  

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ  

SFW🌿

⭑ There was too much passion, too much desire, for the four of you to be separate.

⭑ You moved to Dragonstone, where the chambers were much larger than the ones at King’s Landing.

⭑ And although you do have a shared room, you have chambers of your own. Where you can store your belongings and hide away if you wish it.

⭑ Harwin rarely uses his rooms, and is usually in someone else’s.

⭑ Rhaenyra’s is closest to yours and you often find yourselves snuggle at night.

⭑ You’re all equally in love with each other. And I mean everyone is. Even Harwin and Daemon. That might be inconceivable, but sexuality is a spectrum and cannot be defined all the time.

⭑ Daemon loves Harwin’s intensity and his passion. He finds it invigorating, blood-boiling and exciting.

⭑ Harwin loves the way Daemon’s mind works and he is constantly asking what he’s thinking.

⭑ Rhaenyra and Daemon are married, while you and Harwin married four years ago.

⭑ You had this arangement for two and a half years at King’s Landing. You all tried to keep it a secret. But ever since moving to Dragonstone, you all feel like you can be your true selves.

⭑ Rhaenyra still has Jace, Luke and Joffrey from Harwin, and she is now pregnant with her first child from Daemon.

⭑ Laenor is still ‘dead’ to the world. But Harwin was practically saved from his fate by his marriage to you. It took him out of the spotlight with the allegations that Laenor wasn’t the children’s father.  

⭑ You and Harwin haven’t been trying for children yet - you still take contraceptives. You haven’t yearned for motherhood quite yet.

⭑ And Harwin does not mind that in the least. He’s just happy with his family already - there’s nothing missing. Nothing that he pushes for you to do.

⭑ Daemon is an enigma to you -

⭑ He’s not like many men, not many at all.

⭑ You fell in love with him when you were younger. And yes you have admitted that to him - it was during a night that you were all drinking. Someone came up with the idea to tell secrets to each other. And you told that one.

⭑ No one shamed you for it though.

⭑ Rhaenyra has loved you ever since you came to court at age 10. She didn’t know it was love. She thought it was friendship.

⭑ You, her and Alicent were a threesome. A group of best friends who loved one another dearly.

⭑ But Alicent chose to betray both of you, by marrying Viserys.

⭑ She hadn’t even told you that was her plans.

⭑ Alicent became very jealous of how close you and Rhaenyra became after that.

⭑  You were the white-haired heir’s solace. A shoulder to cry on. A person she knew she could always go to. 

⭑ When everyone is home, there aren’t any visitors and the children are in bed, the four of you will sit in front of the warm fire. Daemon sitting on the couch, a book in his hand. Harwin on the opposite side of the lounge, with Rhaenyra on the floor between his legs. You’re laying directly on the floor, your back to the fire while you watch your partners. 

⭑ Daemon usually pats the spot beside him, without looking up from his book. 

⭑ Everyone is content. 

Theme Song:

‘The Devil & The Daughter’ by Daniel Pemberton

Relationship Tropes:

Touch ANY Of My Partners, And You Die (that goes for all of you, you little fiesty things)

Idiot (Harwin and You) x Loves Their Idiot (Rhaenyra and Daemon)

Murderous Intent (Daemon) x Chill (Rhaenyra) x Chaotic Dumbass (Harwin) x Psycho But Not Insane (You)

Mama Bear (Rhaenyra) x Papa Bear (Harwin) x Wine Uncle (Daemon) x Vodka Aunt (You)

NSFW🔞 minors dni!

⭑ Sex is actually very fun, and no, it isn’t always the four of you every single time.

⭑ Usually, it’s a free for all; no one gets jealous that the other has had sex with someone else because they know that in time it will happen to them

⭑ However, when you all first agreed to be a part of this relationship, the sex was out of this world.

⭑ All four of you were a tangled mess of arms, legs, mouths, and teeth.

⭑ You didn’t know whose fingers were inside of you, but they felt good. And then at one point all of your holes were full, two cocks and slender fingers were inside you. Thrusting and pumping. The feeling was indescribable. Like there wasn’t a part of you missing. You were whole.

⭑ Sometimes you off with partners, while still keeping everyone involved. A good example of this is mirrored spooning; Harwin is behind you, while Daemon is behind Rhaenyra. They thrust into you from behind, with you stare at the opposite person. 

⭑ Daemon likes to fuck you while you’re in the air on Caraxes. His cock is buried deep inside you, and he thrusts deeper on while Caraxes’ descends. Gravity pushes you down farther onto him. 

⭑ Rhaenyra likes to fuck on the bed, or while bathing. Usually, her fingers find their way inside of you. She’s usually a gentle lover, but on the days that she feels extra needy, she’ll rip your clothes off and pleasure you until she hears you orgasm. Then she keeps going until you plead for a break. 

⭑ Harwin likes to fuck you on the training grounds. Especially on the ground. Your dress over your waist, while he thrusts deeper inside you. The dirt embeds itself in your knees. 

[tar-maitime]

last words

Rating: T Characters: Maedhros | Maitimo, Sons of Feanor Relationships: Maedhros & Sons of Feanor Additional: character death, grieving, kinslayings, War of Wrath WC: .75k

@feanorianweek snuck up on me, so instead of writing something for each of the days, I'm just going to have to go with this...

.......

“Are you so quick to turn your back on our father, then, traitor?”

It’s not the last thing Curufin says to her. There are plenty more words between them, in that fight that eventually ends with an agreement to attack Doriath, and in the preparations that lead up to the assault. But by some chance or other, it happens that ‘traitor’ is the last thing Curufin calls her.

Not ‘sister’. Not any of her names. Just that ugly word that hangs between them, that she keeps hoping they’ll have time to resolve, up until she finds him dead in a pool of blood on the floor.

Maedhros doesn’t know why it sticks in her mind like that.

The last thing Celegorm calls her is ‘general’, as in “As you command, General,” with a too-playful grin and a wink, when they’re discussing who will be deployed where just before the attack. Maedhros only finds out later that he’d disregarded her instructions entirely to chase down Dior Eluchil and fight him personally.

He’s still wearing that same grin when she finds him dead in the throne room, even though his wounds tell her that he didn’t die quickly. She wonders if he teased at death the way he did with her and their brothers.

She hears his voice calling her General, General, General, over and over till it loses all meaning, as she sprints through the frozen woods looking for the lost princes, as she returns empty-handed and deals out justice to Celegorm’s men.

The last time she sees Caranthir alive, he says, “The strap on your pauldron is wearing thin, Nelyë,” with such complete normalcy that she has to rack her brain, later, to realize that those were his last words to her. She can’t seem to take it in. Celegorm and Curufin had practically courted their deaths in Doriath, and she’d sought to save them from it as much as she’d sought to save Doriath from them. But Caranthir...she hadn’t seen it coming. She doesn’t think he did, either.

Her father, her uncle, her cousin, her husband all were afforded some kind of dramatic weight to their deaths, to make the world stop and acknowledge that something had gone horribly wrong. Kneeling in a corridor in Menegroth, Maedhros can only think inanely that it’s unfair somehow for her middle brother not to have been granted the same dubious courtesy.

.......

The last thing Amrod calls her is ‘Maitimë’. If he’d called her anything else, anything else...

But Maedhros hasn’t thought of herself by that name in centuries. She never gets to ask why he landed on that name out of all the many she’s had - a flashback to Alqualondë? a mere slip of the tongue? - because the disused name takes a fraction too long to get her attention, and by the time she turns toward him, one of his opponents has already put a sword through his ribs.

She pays more attention after that (after she’s screamed, after she’s laid waste to the defenders of Sirion who did this). She makes sure she knows exactly where Maglor and Amras are and what their situation is at all times after that. 

It’s not enough to save Amras, who dies in her shaking arms, calling her “Amya.”

Perhaps he wasn’t talking to her at all, saying that - Maedhros’ face is more like her father’s, and the scars and cropped hair have left any resemblance to Nerdanel vestigial at best. But she still hears it echo in her mind along with traitor and General and Nelyë and Maitimë, so as far as she’s concerned, it counts. 

She is glad, when it occurs to her, that the twins (the new ones, Maglor’s peredhil who want to be hers as well) never call her that in their quest to bestow a maternal title on her.

.......

When Maedhros goes out to fight in her last battle of the War of Wrath, Maglor stops her with a hand on her arm, and makes her eat something, and tells her “Stay safe, sister,” before she leaves.

There’s no particular reason to think that those will be his last words to her, any more than any other parting might be their last. But Maedhros still tucks them away in a drawer in her memory, just in case.  “You too, hanno,” she says, and ducks out of their tent to make for the latest battlefield.

[waitingonavision]

sleep pile with bruno and his nieces and nephews!

Thank you for the request 🥺 Somehow this turned out to be over 1,000 words! Here’s the AO3 link!

...

Duerme bien

“But we should—“

“Leave him there. Good idea.”

“Not what I was going to say!”

“Whaddya mean? We’re practically twins! We finish each otherrr’s…”

“Like I’d ever fall for that.”

“Hey. What’re you guys just, standing there for?”

Mirabel and Camilo startle at the voice behind them.

“Luisa! Keep your voice down, okay,” Mirabel hisses. “It’s Tío Bruno.”

The tall young woman crosses the courtyard and gazes in the direction her sister has indicated with puckered lips. Her powerful body is immediately tense, ready to spring forward and pluck their tío out of whatever situation he’s landed in. The instant she sees him, though, she gives a low little laugh.

“Oh, he’s sleeping.”

“Yeah. On the floor. Just. Dead to the world, right there.” Camilo, heaping on the obvious statements.

“Which is why we should move him to the couch!”

“He looks… comfortable?” Luisa shifts from one foot to the other. “Haven’t you seen this before?” The younger kids shake their heads. “He used to do it a lot. Before he, uh, left. I remember seeing him asleep on the floor, or like, in a corner somewhere. Mamá said that as long as he wasn’t in danger, wasn’t going to fall or get stepped on or anything, it was okay to let him be. Said he needed the rest.”

She doesn’t mention the part where she’d plunk down in front of Bruno, a doll and stuffed animal in tow, or sometimes blocks. Or that she’d sit with him until he woke up (once or twice prodding him awake herself). Then her tío would blink at her through those ever sleepless eyes, never upset with her, not even if she roused him sooner than he’d wanted. Just a crooked smile and a bleary but tender, “Buenas, Luisita.”

Camilo is gesturing at the man’s form in the center of the living room. “See? I was right. Also, wow, fu—ay! Wh—“

“Shh. I still think we should move him.” Mirabel’s brow is furrowed.

“…What if he wakes up?”

“Yeah. And anyway, he’s probably too heavy for us n–ow! Stop pinching me, Mirabel!”

“He’s not!” Mirabel says, while Luisa crosses her arms, biceps bulging. “And I won’t, because you keep being an—“

“Let him stay there.”

All three of them jump in spite of the sound of a well-practiced whisper beside them. Turning their heads in unison, they see Dolores peeking around the threshold at their passed-out uncle.

“He’s still lighter than you, cabeza gorda.” She adds, humming, lest she squander the opportunity to defend Bruno and jab back at her brother, who simply shrugs, even as he fixes her with a too-wide smirk.

Looking back at Mirabel, he says, “Our majority and our seniority reign!”

Mirabel is familiar enough with their mothers’ and Bruno’s banter as triplets to know it’s hopeless to argue that Camilo being two months and one week older than her totally does not count as seniority. Still, the words chafe.

“Well, unfortunately for you, primo, brains beat age,” she counters. Smiling at her own private triumph. “You guys, come on! Dolores, don’t worry, we won’t wake him.”

“Oh. No, it’s not that–“

“¡Permiso!”

As if on cue, the quiet, piping voice of the youngest Madrigal sends the four bigger bodies shuffling. They watch the boy’s curly head bob toward them—the rest of him is nearly obscured by the thick woolen blanket he’s hugging to his torso—and as he weaves through and on into the room.

Antonio had been the first to stumble upon Bruno like this, after consulting the rats over his whereabouts (“I need to find your mamá,” is how he framed it). It was seeing his tío fast asleep on the floor that made the boy shelve his pursuit of story time in favor of the next most logical thing.

Sure, the kid may have gotten distracted by his toucan friend along the way, but he’s back now! And once he reaches his destination he promptly arranges the blanket in a pile next to Bruno, plopping down on his side and snuggling his cheek against the man’s pudgy belly.

The sight makes Dolores and Mirabel grin and Luisa’s lower lip quiver.

“Looks like Toñito’s found a middle way.” Camilo arches an eyebrow.

No one is at all fazed when Mirabel darts away, skirt fluttering. Nor when they hear a few muffled thumps somewhere above them, followed by the sound of her shushing herself. Within moments she’s at the living room entrance again, heaving blankets and pillows at the others (Casita had to have helped with the load), and bounding ahead, lightly, with hers. She motions c’mon just as she’s starting to lay out her blanket in order to curl around her little primo, who wiggles his fingers at her.

“His tummy keeps making noises,” Antonio whispers, stifling a sleepy giggle.

Mirabel’s mouth forms into an o-shape. To her right, she catches a glimpse of Luisa settling on her quilt above Bruno’s head. “Maybe it’s better not to lie on it, hombrecito…”

“It’s okay,” Dolores says with an unconscious tilt of her head, from where she’s making a spot for herself. “Tío ate a little over an hour ago. He’s just slow to digest.” A satisfied Antonio mushes his whole face into Bruno’s soft stomach.

“Hey, save some room for your big brother.”

The teenager has shape-shifted into a… smaller version of himself—a bit smaller than Antonio, even. Nudging in between Dolores and their tío, he steals the former’s pillow so he can roll onto it, and rests his head opposite his brother’s. After a second or two of mild contemplation, he pulls an expression that reads not bad and gives an exaggerated yawn.

Pepa and Félix’s eldest shakes her head. Then her eyes flick off to the left… barely catching the shadow moving past the room.

The last things Dolores sees before she lies down beside Bruno are Luisa curved in an arc over him, body completely slumped and a gentle smile playing on her lips; and Mirabel rubbing circles into Antonio’s back as he drifts off, trying to fight the same fate…

In due time, the air turns fragrant with the scent of various wildflowers. Isabela slips into the room, a rolled blanket in the crook of her elbow, and conjures crowns for each of her family members. (No outrageous blooms, though she considers making an exception for Camilo.) When she’s finished putting the final touches on Bruno’s clovers, she claims the space by her youngest sister.

“Duerme bien,” she murmurs, letting her forehead rest against the already slumbering girl’s shoulder.

Everything falls silent.

Maybe he would have moved earlier. Coughed, or something. But, oh, these kids…

Bruno allows one eye to open a crack, then the other. Gingerly, he extracts his rather stiff arm out from under Mirabel, giving it the tiniest stretch and twist before placing his hand on Antonio’s head.

He smiles, and closes his eyes once more.

. . .

@junosaccount drew art of the sleep pile!!!!!!!! Thank you, thank you!!!!!

[obey-me-mammon-lover69]

omg requests are open? yay! ☺️ i know this is an angsty one, but could you write the demon bros’ reactions to mc’s death? :( it’s an angst kinda day lol. but if you’re not comfortable with that, i totally understand :) have a nice day!

I love angst so much bro you don't understand

I tried to keep how MC died vague, so it can be however you please

How the brothers react are somewhat based on how my family reacted when my uncle died, I was Beel in this situation, unable to cry and feeling horrible about it only crying weeks after the funeral because it finally all hit at once

GN! MC

Warning: Death, mentions of lesson 16, mild suicidal thoughts (all of them to some degree), depression, dissociating 

LUCIFER:

The news shakes him to his core

He slips on a calm mask to try and help his little brothers but inside is a warzone

As soon as he’s back alone in his room or office he breaks into tears and collapses against the door blocking it off with a strong spell to prevent his brothers from seeing him in this state

Even after losing you he refuses to drop his pride and show weakness

Especially to his brothers

Puts back on the mask and continues to carry the family through your funeral 

Shoves himself into his work, you aren’t there to drag him away from his paperwork and tuck him into bed to sleep after 5 days of nonstop work anymore

Works himself to the bone trying to forget about you

You’re just a human, you would have died eventually, why does this hurt him so much?

Eventually he starts neglecting his brothers too and hides in his office crouched over towers of paperwork

His heart aches, but he refuses to budge

MAMMON:

If you thought Lucifer was bad, Mammon is worse

He didn’t even have a mask to slip on, he simply fell straight to his knees and screamed 

Sobbed into Lucifers shoulder while his brother tried to comfort him whilst dealing with his own grief over your loss

With comes grief, comes bargaining

Mammon scoured the realms looking for someone, anyone able to bring you back from the dead whole

He didn’t want a zombie you, no he wanted you back, personality and all

But he couldn’t find anything

At your funeral he was inconsolable, clung onto your coffin and having to be dragged away by Lucifer, and Satan kicking and screaming

He prayed for the first time in eons for father to bring you back to him

But he never answered, he never does

Falls even harder into his gambling, two steps away from gambling away what remains of his soul just to feel something but horrible grief

Keeps your hoodie, and sleeps with it at night, sometimes in your old bedroom that smells like you

He wishes he was with you; he would do anything to be with you...

He dreams of you every night, and wishes he had the courage to tell you the truth

When Lucifer locks himself away, Mammon steps up as big brother, taking care of his grieving little brothers even though all he wishes for is to be with you again

LEVIATHAN:

The professional NEET is back and sadder than ever

The second he heard the news he started dissociating, like a robot he walked right into his room and sat down in his bathtub and stared at the ceiling

His brain couldn’t handle the grief, and he had to be dragged out of his room by Lucifer just to eat or take a bath

He fell completely into depression, and refused to come out

He tried to fill the void with more games, or anime, but everything reminded him of you

At your funeral he sobs, unable to even approach your coffin and cries even harder during Mammons fit

He goes practically catatonic after the funeral, and doesn’t come out of his room for a whole week, during this time Lucifer locks himself away

Mammon is now the one dragging him out of his room for food

Levi cries in Mammon’s arms, begging him to find a way to bring MC back, that’s all he wants

Mammon holds his little brother, and they cry together on his floor at the helplessness of it all

ASMODEUS:

Upon hearing the news, he stands up and leaves to his room he doesn’t want his brothers to see this side of him

He screams, he sobs, he breaks the mirrors in his room, he throws everything around, he tears the canopy of his bed down, and rolls around on the dying flowers sobbing

After this his second instinct was to pretend you never existed

He cleans up his running, smeared makeup, repairs his room and heads to the clubs to forget about you

He parties hard

Everything and everyone are now a tool to dull his grief 

But nothing fills the void in his heart you leave behind

No matter how many people he takes to his bed, nothing helps, and this is horrifying to him

Its only now after you’ve passed does, he truly realizes how much you’ve changed him and how much he’s fallen for you

At your funeral he doesn’t hold back, sobbing inconsolably and clinging onto Mammon after he’s dragged away from your coffin too

After your funeral he’s changed once more, he refuses to go out and indulge in his sin, he just lays in bed and stares at the ceiling hoping you’ll come back through his door and ask for another make over or a spa day

Mammon drags him out of his room occasionally to eat, but he sees how tired and sad Mammon is too...

SATAN:

Hearing the news, he on the surface is calm, but just like Lucifer, this is a mask so he can try to be a rock for his brothers

As soon as he’s alone in his room he unleashes his demon form and goes apeshit, nearly tearing down his part of the house in his unbriddled rage

He doesn’t even know what, or who he’s mad at, is he mad at you for dying?  Or God for letting it happen?

For once he joins up with Lucifer, he tries hard to be a rock for his brothers to lean on during this time of grieving but crying makes him feel angry

He scours his books for a spell, or anything to bring you back to him...to his brothers

Like Mammon, he’s unable to find anything of use and breaks down into another fit at this

During your funeral he helps drag Mammon away from your coffin, and resists his urge to tear this whole funeral down by the foundation and light it all on fire in a helpless bid to get you back

After your funeral, he retreats completely into his books, hoping he missed something, that maybe there is a way to bring you back one day

He won’t stop till he finds it

He doesn’t even realize Lucifer had retreated either until mammon is the one dragging him down for dinner

He doesn’t even have the strength to be smug, he only feels worried for him

BEELZEBUB:

Images of Lilith flash in his mind as soon as the news breaks

He couldn’t save Lilith, and now he couldn’t save you

Eats even MORE to fill the void in his heart, by filling the endless void in his stomach, but it doesn’t work

Nothing works, even exercising, which made him feel so happy, or Fangol makes him feel good anymore

But he just can’t seem to cry, he feels like maybe he’s broken, he feels such grief, but he can’t cry, even when he’s alone

He feels like he’s just coasting along on an endless ocean, no land in sight

Starts eating more inedible things, like dry wall, nails, etc

Actually, starts eating the wall in his room

During your funeral, he just stares at your coffin, unable to even cry, watching all of his brothers break into tears, but despite his heart hurting so badly he just...can’t cry

He becomes somewhat of a rock for his brothers, mostly Belphie due to this

Its only weeks later, does he finally start to shed his first tears over your death, just trying to go about his regular routine, something reminded him of you, and he dropped to his knees

And sobbed, and sobbed...and sobbed

BELPHEGOR:

All though this time it wasn’t his fault, no matter what happened to you he blames it on himself

I mean he did kill you once, and that action haunts his every waking, and sleeping moment

He starts sleeping even more, in fact there’s not a time he’s awake much anymore, he’s practically fallen into a coma and during this time Beel takes care of him

In his dreams he’s with you again, and that’s why he refuses to leave them and get up

He wants you back so badly, neglecting his health completely

The only time he wakes up is for your funeral, looking down at you one more time he collapses to his knees at your coffin and falls asleep right there next to it

Beelzebub picks him up and carries him away from the coffin, and that would be the last time his brothers ever saw him awake if it weren’t for Mammon

Mammon takes up the duties of Beel, taking care of Belphegor when Beel can’t and forcing him to wake up and face reality to eat dinner and get some sort of food inside of him

Belphie misses you so much, and for this he hates his father even more for taking you away from him, for taking Lilith away from him

Cries in his sleep due to dreams of you, hoping that when he wakes up your death will be all a bad dream, and you’ll be back in his arms again...

[jo-harrington]

Limbo (An As Above, So Below Story)

**This can be read in tandem with As Above, So Below or as a stand alone. Contains minor spoilers for Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory.**

Summary: Wayne Munson did the best he could, and still found himself in Limbo.

Word Count: 2.5k

Characters: Wayne Munson, Eddie Munson, "Reefer" Rick Lipton

Warnings/Themes: Allusions to Eddie in an established relationship/breakup with Reader/OC (you), Kas!Eddie Munson, Religious Themes, Fate vs. Free Will, Death and Injury, Mentions of Major Character Deaths, Grief, Mourning, Discussion of the Upside Down, Supernatural Encounters, Angst, Violence, Action Sequences, Gore, Biblical and Other Literary/Media References

Note: So...well I guess it's no surprise that our favorite uncle is going to be making an appearance in As Above, So Below. There aren't any spoilers in here unless you know where to look. If you're reading this as a stand alone consider this Wayne's journey as he loses Eddie and gets him back again. Even if he isn't entirely the same as he used to be.

Thank you to @breddiemunson and @chestylarouxx for reading what I sent you, enabling me, and supporting me in my Wayne endeavors.

This series is not for the faint of heart, nor is it something that was written with a general audience in mind. Please check the above warnings and ask yourself if you are in the correct headspace to proceed. I am happy to answer any questions via PM or Ask.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

"That boy made me realize, for a while at least, that my parents were wrong, and I didn't have to be like them." - J.X. Burros

Whatever happened before—whatever his life had been—no longer mattered the moment Wayne Munson got the call from the Sheriff's office on that fateful day in September of '76.

It had woken him up from a dead sleep, and then all of a sudden he had a funeral to plan and a kid to raise.

Not just any kid.

His nephew, his buddy, his boy.

Eddie.

Wayne didn't know how to raise a kid though. Didn’t know how to fix lunches or talk to teachers or all the things his sister-in-law had made look effortless.

She sacrificed though to make it happen. And if Wayne was any good at any one thing…it was sacrifice.

So he did what he knew, did the best he could. And worried internally all the while keeping that signature stoic Munson exterior.

Would Eddie be safe? Would he be loved? Would he have everything he needed?

Together they weathered storms, patched up cuts and bruises, and taught and learned lessons to one another.

Practiced patience and respect; love and forgiveness.

It was an unfamiliar kind of relationship, certainly not the kind he and his brother had with their parents. But it was the least he could do for Eddie, a boy who had already lost so much. A boy who he saw so much of himself in.

He should have gotten him out of Hawkins, should have had a fresh start elsewhere.

Should have done something to stop all of the suffering before it started.

Call it intuition.

There were no real signs.

But Wayne knew that something was wrong the moment he pulled up to the trailer after a long and tedious Friday night shift.

The van hadn't moved from its spot from the night before--a little too close to the mailbox--but Eddie being late for school or skipping class altogether wasn't anything new.

The door was left ajar--also not new, if Eddie was too eager after a night of DnD to get back home and write notes for the next session while thoughts were still fresh in his head--and any other time it would mean a lecture that he wouldn't be too keen on, because Eddie truly knew better.

But there was just something in the air, and as Wayne crept up the front steps warily, it caused the hair on his arms to stand up on end.

Heartbreak.

He knew the stench of it when he set foot inside.

Saw the empty beer bottles on the counter by the sink and a mug that he'd accidentally broken on the floor by the couch. The fragments of the mug sat alongside a discarded silver chain that Wayne recognized used to sit around your neck.

The boy that was hidden away in the depths of his bedroom wasn't the same as the one he had just seen 24 hours ago.

Wayne himself had been in those shoes plenty of times in his life. It happened more often when he realized that his feelings weren't reciprocated but the one time he just couldn't be with someone he'd felt the greatest connection with...it had hardened him.

No use in delaying the inevitable.

He stood at Eddie's door and knocked carefully, ready to give him all the patience that he deserved.

Because he knew that he wasn't gonna get his nephew back for awhile.

The FEMA check was a staggering number.

And it went to waste one headstone at a time.

He and Rick had cried the first time they'd gone to visit Eddie's grave--Rick fresh out of County--and found the cracked granite monument in pieces in the grass.

It had been crushed, the corners of the pieces chipped. Someone had taken a chisel or a screwdriver and carved a line through the dedication.

Edward J. Munson

Beloved Son, Nephew, and Friend.

The next time it looked like someone had taken a sledgehammer through it.

And the time after that, the headstone was just gone.

Each time without fail, Wayne would call the little Monument business in Muncie and order a new one. Once a month if not more. They recognized his voice by July.

"Don't waste the money," Rick said with a comforting hand patting his back as they both shed silent tears the fifth or sixth time. "He wouldn't have wanted you to...obsess over him like this. He would have wanted you to do something cool. Road trip to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Or surfing in California."

"I'm too old to surf."

"At least take some time off work. He started dealing so you'd stop working so much god damn overtime."

But what else was Wayne supposed to do with Eddie gone?

He worked, filled his free time with shitty TV and old pictures that Rick had squirreled away the closet of the bedroom that Wayne had taken residence in. Dinners at the Hendersons once a week where Claudia would send them home with too many leftovers and Dustin would tentatively explain a new D&D campaign.

It should have made his heart hurt but instead brought him comfort.

It was good to be reminded of the goodness that Eddie left behind, instead of the wickedness that his stained reputation seemed to bring out of everyone else.

And he kept replacing that damned headstone.

Until he stopped.

For almost a decade, they'd been friends and, for all intents and purposes, partners in raising Eddie.

When his sister-in-law had passed, Wayne had never asked for help, but Rick was quick to step up to the plate, despite the weight of his own world that he carried on his shoulders.

Pickups when Eddie was sick? Rick took care of them so Wayne could sleep.

And if Eddie was ever faking some illness to get out of a test or homework he hadn't remembered, then Rick took care of that too. Usually in a more fun and forgiving way than Wayne would.

Rick had been at Corroded Coffin's first "concert" at the Hideout, when they were still new and bad, fresh off their debut at the Hawkins Middle School talent show. He'd hauled out his old tube color camera so Wayne could watch it over the weekend.

There hadn't been any sound, but Wayne had been grateful to see Eddie's confident strumming and singing nonetheless.

And Wayne had been there for Rick time and again in return. When the shellshock got too bad and the voices were too loud, Wayne made the long drive to Indianapolis for Rick to pick up whatever he needed to chase the demons away.

Once Eddie was gone, they'd leaned on each other. The only ones who understood the loss the other experienced. Different...but still the same.

That's why it gutted Wayne as he watched Rick get cut down, torn apart by teeth and claws. Neck snapped, blood splattered, soul rent from his being, sent from this world onto the next.

He would have died to save Rick.

But he didn't.

The only thing that kept Wayne going were the hands attached to those claws.

Hands that spent hours practicing Fade to Black.

He knew the mouth that held those teeth. A mouth that spewed Cap'n Crunch as it failed to contain laughter at Saturday morning cartoons as he came home from a Friday Night double.

Knew the hair that dripped that blood. He was the last person to give it a trim, but not too much Uncle Wayne. It won't be metal enough for the concert on the 8th if you cut it too short. Can you believe it? Ozzy and Metallica. Fuck it's gonna be a great show. Shit...I mean shit.

And as eyes as dark as the abyss turned to Wayne and they stared at one another, Wayne's devastation was replaced by hope.

Because Rick might have been Wayne's friend, his brother.

But Eddie was Wayne's blood.

And Eddie was still alive.

The act of crossing into a new dimension was becoming something Wayne was used to mentally, but physically he didn't think he'd ever adjust.

His knees creaked as he crawled through the cavernous maw of the gate, his back ached as he pulled himself through the other side and he found his footing on the toxic soil, and his lungs wheezed momentarily as he took his first gulp of the strange atmosphere.

"You need to stop smoking if you're gonna come here every day," A familiar voice reached his ears and the aches and pains faded. "The air burns enough without tar-filled lungs."

"Well I only need to come here every day until we can get you home," Wayne groused and pivoted to find Eddie leaning against one of the trees at the edge of the beach.

"I'm working on it," Eddie deadpanned.

Wayne was quick to close the distance and pull him into a hug like he had for the last week.

Eddie wasn't as jarring a sight to see as he had been a few short weeks ago. Somehow, he'd made himself normal again; Wayne hadn't realized how until he heard the gut-wrenching screams as Eddie tore his body back apart once he thought Wayne was back on the other side.

"You don't have to do that on my behalf," Wayne insisted. "I'm just happy to see you. Happy you're here."

"I like it better this way," Eddie had shrugged as he tore off the broken old t-shirt for a new one that Wayne had brought. "I like my old body better. Makes me feel like I'm still myself."

That was really all this was, an effort to help Eddie feel like himself while he was stuck here.

Every day Wayne made the trek with a new change of clothes, a few new cassettes or a book for Eddie to read. Usually some food, Eddie's favorites, that largely went untouched. He wished he could bring more, just to see the joy on Eddie's face, but the crossing was a strain on his body. It required a different kind of strength than he was used to after years of manual labor.

Not just physical strength, but the fortification of the soul.

He didn't know how Eddie could have survived the past few weeks, let alone the past year and a half.

"What have you got for me today?" Eddie grinned. His fangs glistened with the ominous lightning in the distance and Wayne couldn't help but smile back at the enthusiasm.

"Got a special treat for you," Wayne heaved the knapsack from over his shoulder and dropped it to the ground.

"You said that yesterday when you brought my copy of The Hobbit," Eddie laughed. "And the day before that, when you brought Sweetheart."

"Can't let you get rusty." He unzipped the bag and reached in. "No, this is something else. I don't know what you've been doing with those Twinkies and cupcakes but uh...I figured this might be more to your liking."

He pulled out the dented old brown and orange thermos that his sister-in-law used to send Eddie to school with, a remnant of the days where Bradley's Big Buy let you choose a special prize if you spent over a certain amount on groceries.

"I, uh, am not really in a Chef Boyardee mood either, Uncle Wayne." Eddie unscrewed the top of the thermos and then froze as the scent hit him. His eyes shot up at Wayne in question, pupils dilated in an unnatural way.

"Go ahead, son," he nodded. "I know you're hungry."

"Where?" Eddie couldn't help but lick his lips. "Who?"

"I can't do it all the time." Wayne patted the crook of his elbow. "But when I can, I will."

Eddie shook his head but made no move to close the thermos. Wayne watched something happen behind his eyes though, an internal battle. There were little twitches beneath his skin, along his jaw, to his lips.

"I can drink from the others," he muttered, more to himself than Wayne. "Send them out and feed when they come back."

He worried his lips with those fangs that seemed to get longer and sharper.

"Please," he practically whimpered, in a tone that was practically unrecognizable. "Please."

"Please Eddie," Wayne nodded in encouragement. "You need it more than I do right now. Not like I can put it back."

"No!" Eddie slammed the lid back on, metal denting further beneath his strong grip. "Don't do that again Wayne. Never."

There was a venomous warning beneath his words and a barely audible crackle and hiss of something dangerous, something inhuman, and Wayne had no choice but to oblige.

"I only wanted to help."'

"Seeing you every day is more help than you could possibly imagine," Eddie explained darkly. "I don't need the blood. If I drank it...who knows what I could do. I'll be fine. Just trust me. Please."

"Alright," Wayne nodded.

They did what they usually did when Wayne visited. Talked about their days, a strange monotonous routine that felt like a semblance of the life they used to live, but it was welcome.

They always ignored the elephant in the room: the attacks on Hawkins, the growing number of dead thanks to the creatures of the Upside Down and their insatiable hunger.

Eddie had tried to explain once, tried to apologize, but Wayne would hear nothing of it.

"This is just the reality of it now," he comforted Eddie that first day after Vecna was destroyed. "Until we can get you out. Then you and I are getting the hell out of Hawkins and never looking back."

Finally it was time for Wayne to head home, back to Rick's, back to the house where he had nothing but his memories and hope. He gave Eddie one last hug before he started for the gate to begin his descent once more.

"Hey Uncle Wayne?" Eddie called after him and he turned back. Wayne watched the changes in his eyes. The pleading, the flashes of desperation, the softness that he knew his nephew was capable of. "I love you, you know that right?"

The way he said it put a chill in Wayne's heart. There was something about it; a foreboding darkness. A finality. They were words that were rarely said in the Munson household...but when they were said, the meaning was heavy...immense.

Wayne didn't quite know how to respond, though, to the weight that Eddie's words carried.

So he just said the obvious.

"Of course, son," Wayne nodded. "I love you too."

And then the flash was gone and in its place there was something foreign and spitting, something that, Wayne wondered as he trekked back to Hawkins, might have always been there in the depths, waiting to be released.

Maybe not just in Eddie.

But in everyone.

"The thought of abandoning [him] to save himself was never an option.[ ]He would defend them [both] until his end." - Wendy Owens, The Guardians Crown

[hoony-parker]

ST4 Vol 2 spoilers

Hello! I was wondering if you could do a Steve x reader where the reader is Eddie’s little sister (maybe by like a year so she’s 19) and she has to go with Steve, Nancy, and Robin to go pick up Dustin from the upside down. And when she finds Eddie and he’s dead, she breaks down and Steve comforts her?? And she just kinda clings to him for the rest?

warnings: character death, stranger things vol. 2 spoilers! a lot of angst, swearing. not proofread!!

pairing: steve harrington x fem!munson!reader (there's not so much of a pairing in this fic, though. it's what it says in the ask)

notes: this hurt to write so much. i liked the results, though. i hope you do, too. love you x

w/c: 2.3k

it was all too much.

the monsters, the heavy air around you, the rush, the adrenaline.

hawkins was supposed to be boring. hawkins was supposed to be a little old town in indiana where absolutely nothing happened. instead, you found out there's monsters, demoniac bats and a wizard with bad skin that's trying to incriminate your brother for murder.

you knew eddie. you were his little sister, after all. but you knew, and could assure and swear for your own life that your brother was not a murder.

he was a dork who liked metal music, d&d, and smoking pot. a lot.

but he was still the same nerd who practically raised you when no one else would.

your big brother, only two years older than you, and now even going to your senior year alongside you, had made sure your hair was in perfect piggy tails back in elementary school so you could be the coolest out of all the little devils you called your classmates.

those damned toddlers had made fun of your hair more than once for not being styled delicately and prettily. and when they found out you lived in a trailer park? school became hell. you had come home crying more than once about the girls in your class calling you ugly and the boys calling you poor, and eddie thought that that was just cruel.

you were, hands down, the sweetest girl in the world. and, no. eddie wasn't just saying it because you were his little sister. but because you were everything he wasn't.

you were sweet and kindhearted. the type to pick every plastic wrapper you found on the floor and throw them away in the trash can. the type to find lost puppies in the street and beg your uncle to just take them to the vet to make sure they're okay, and you'd be on your way. the type to help with dinner and color eddie's homework and write it prettily so he'd have extra credit. you were the kindest soul he had ever met.

yes, you were a little different from your classmates. you didn't have a mom, or a dad. you had your uncle and your older brother, instead.

you didn't have a big house or a backyard. you had a trailer and the whole fucking trailer park to run around in, if you ever felt like it.

you didn't have a bed. you slept on the couch and, whenever you had nightmares, you'd sleep with eddie.

yes, you were a little different from your classmates. but you wouldn't trade your life for anything.

and it surely wasn't a surprise when you walked out of school monday afternoon and found all your classmates crying and cursing when they found out that the tires from their bikes had been cut and ruined.

so, no. there was no way eddie was a murderer.

you never would've guessed you'd be fighting monsters a couple of months before graduation.

you were fighting monsters, for god's sake. the same ones you were afraid of when you were a toddler, and had to sleep next to eddie so you could at least get some sleep. the same ones that appeared only in your darkest nightmares and thought they'd get you in your most vulnerable times. the same ones eddie always swore he'd protect you from.

anyway, you found yourself fighting alongside robin, one of your dearest friends from school, nancy wheeler and the ex-king from hawkins high, steve harrington.

dustin had come along, too. trailing closely behind like a lost puppy when you dropped down to the upside down through a gate in your trailer, it seemed like.

you were going to kill vecna.

you were supposed to go after him. that was the plan. dustin and eddie were going to distract the demobats so you could go after vecna without any drawbacks, and you'd go after his head.

"don't die," eddie had told you, grabbing your forearm and pulling you roughly into a hug, squeezing your body close to his with one arm around your shoulders, and his other hand supporting the back of your head while he buried it in his shoulder, resting his chin on the top of your head. "yeah, you either," you had answered, words muffled against the fabric of his clothes, his hellfire club shirt now firty and thorn in some places due to the battling all of you had gone through the last couple of days.

you had felt him chuckle quietly against you, and you pushed him away to look up at him, staring directly into his eyes. "i'm serious," you had said. "i need my big brother."

the slight shake in your voice had immediately caused eddie's smile to fade, replacing it by a frown when he noticed the seriousness in his voice. it seemed like he had struggled to comprehend just how real all of this was until the moment you made him promise he was going to come back to you. "you'll have him for a long time, teddy," he'd assured you naively, calling you by the familiar nickname he had called you since you were little, afraid, and safe under his wing.

"you'll have to bear with me for a long, long time," he had promised. you had given him a kiss on the cheek, another hug and wished him good luck, ruffling dustin's hair quickly and with affection. "keep your promise," you had whispered in his ear with one last, big hug.

he had just smiled back, almost blinded by his thoughts and the little voices in his head that reminded him that he was indeed in another dimension, and he was there to kill a fucking demon that ruined his life.

eddie couldn't begin to understand when his life had changed so much so quickly. just a couple of days ago, he was known as eddie 'the freak' munson, a weird, yet harmless, guy who hung out with other weirdos to play a board game and smoked weed — and sold it— every once in a while.

now, he was being looked after for a homicide he didn't even commit. his life was ruined, along with his chances of improving his life and, maybe, get you and him out of the hell hole the trailer park was. if he went back to hawkins, he'd get arrested. he'd probably not be believed in when he told the authorities the truth— because, who would believe a freak, drug dealer anything he said?

he lost already. he wouldn't be able to graduate highschool again, and he'd have to do senior year all over again, again. eddie couldn't give you what you deserved even when he tried his hardest, and he did because, after his third try, he was finally, finally, graduating highschool.

if he went back to hawkins, he'd have to run away. out of the state, maybe. and if it wasn't far enough, out of the country. he'd have to get away from you to keep you safe. if you love something, let it go, he'd tell himself, in hopes of making the process of leaving his little sister behind easier. it didn't.

but he'd swore once he'd keep you safe, and he intended on keeping that promise.

the time passed, and after fighting more creatures and thinking you were running in circles in a constant loop, it seemed like you had finally broken the curse.

you ran in search for your brother, looking around to try to recognize your surroundings and the place you had last seen him in, legs moving faster than your thoughts and lungs on the edge of collapsing after the agitated breathing.

your vision was blurry. everything was, by now. from the day all the events started until now, nothing seemed coherent.

the blurriness didn't stop you from noticing two figures a few feet ahead, lying on the floor and surrounded by what seemed the corpses of thousands of demobats. your heart sank, body turning cold as you kept repeating yourself that no, this isn't real. this is a nightmare. you just have to open your fucking eyes.

you didn't just fight an interdimensional monster. you didn't just get knocked down by a demoniac bat. you didn't see a seven feet tall monster with a big mouth for a head and infinite rows of teeth.

that could only happen in your worst nightmares. soon, you'll wake up from this nightmare. you'll be six years old all over again, and eddie will get you some of the shitty hot chocolate you bought and distract you from your bad dream to get you to fall asleep easily again.

it's a nightmare, because you didn't just realize that your big brother is dying in his friends arms while in another dimension. it's all fake. it must be.

you ran, chest contracting once you approached them enough to fall to your knees, eyes widened and your eyeballs almost dry from the lack of blinking, gaze kept in your brother. "no!!" you screamed, slightly pushing dustin aside to bring eddie's body over your lap, and you encircled him with both of your arms to keep him from falling. "no, no, no, no, no," you repeated, over and over again like a mantra. like the word would turn back the events, bring you back to normal.

he looked tired, in pain. strands from his hair fell over his eyes, stuck together from the blood and sweat. his shirt, previously only covered in dirt, now soaking with the crimson colour of your brother's blood. so, so precious and useful, and you could see how fast it was flowing out of him. it made you shake with anxiousness.

"hey, teds," he smiled, lips pressed together and words told through gritted teeth. the pain was evident in his features, face, body and soul. you shook your head. "what did they do to you?" you asked, looking down to his torso to inspect the damage. "that bad, huh?" he teased, blood spurting from his lips while he mouthed the words. "what did you do, eds?"

your voice was merely above a whisper, and dustin beside you covered his mouth with the palm of his hand, desperately trying to quieten the sobs that fell from his lips.

you didn't have the strength to get your voice any louder. you didn't feel you had the need to, either. eddie could hear you, and that was enough.

"i went to become a hero," he smiled again, now his lips tugged up with pride. it pained you, his words cutting through your soul like a knife that sent you to agony. it had never dawned you, just how much eddie needed to show the others what he could do.

all those years, you had thought it was enough. that you were enough. wasn't it obvious you already thought he was your hero? hadn't you thanked him enough?

was this the cost?

a tear fell down your cheek. hot and cold. hot, trailing down the skin in slow motion mercilessly. cold, as it let the wet path make contact with the oxygen and cool your skin.

the mix of feelings only brought you more confusion.

"you promised," you reminded him in a whisper.

he looked at you once more, and the way his body shook violently in his grasp made more tears fall, already anticipating what was to come.

"y-yeah. i also promised— i also promised to protect you."

"but you're hurt," you cried. "and you're safe, right?" he coughed, spitting more blood.

looking down to your clothes, you brought your shaky hands to your shirt and tore a big piece, bringing it to his biggest wound and pressing on it in hopes of preventing more blood from coming out, earning a wince from your brother that had you apologizing under your breath. you looked at your hands and avoided his gaze.

"i'm getting you outta here, eddie. j-just stay awake, yeah?"

"you are safe, right?" he repeated. the softness, yet urgeness in his tone got you whipping your head to his direction.

you stayed quiet for a second. a second too long, maybe. but, if you said no, what would you win from that? telling him the truth when he was at his worst, and when he had intended to keep his promise, would lead you to nothing. it kept you thinking.

"i'm safe, eds," you smiled tearfully.

you so desperately tried to blink the tears away. but your eyes felt so full of them, glossy and heavy, that as soon as your lids made contact, the droplets didn't hesitate in running down your skin once again.

he breathed out a laugh, pained and breathless. "that's— t-that's good. good."

eddie let his head fall back, and you hugged him closer. "i'm sorry, eddie. i'm sorry, i'm sorry," you sobbed. "i love you, i'm sorry."

"i didn't run away this time," he smiled. you shook your head. "you didn't. you didn't run. you're so, so brave eds. i'm sorry," you went on.

"s'not your fault—" he coughed, "none of it. none- none of this' your fault, teddy," he assured you.

and you could feel their presence behind you. your friends, those who gave it all to kill vecna, right behind you. and you could feel their pitty— their sympathetic smiles and frowns. still, you didn't know how you felt about it.

you didn't have time to think of it.

"stay with me," you whispered, begged him. "stay, please."

and eddie just made an effort to look at steve, right behind you, and he felt ready. he could go, and you'd be fine.

you'd be fine.

then, his head fell back, and you couldn't hear his breathing anymore. his eyes were open, looking into nothingness and lifeless still.

you ached, lungs expanding with a loud sob and you cried and, mere seconds later, steve crouched beside you to pull you to him. slowly, he closed your brothers eyes, swallowing the lump in his throat and kept his arms tight around you, pressing his head to yours and pulling your head to his neck, encouraging you to hide there— you'd be safe there. hidden.

but eddie was gone, and died a hero.

he was always your hero.

all your life, yesterday, tomorrow, forever.

[waltwhitmansbeard]

go on, claim my heart: chapter thirty-three

see my masterpost for what came before this.

Pike doesn't hesitate. She doesn't have the time. Her legs are little, but she pumps them as fast as she can, nearly rivaling Vax in speed as she beelines for Percy's side.

(What nauseating angle, what unseeing eyes, what still chest—her friend is dead. She can fix it. She can fix it.)

Her hand roots around in a pouch affixed to her hip. She knew. Maybe this was Sarenrae's forewarning, the nudge in the back of her mind to bring it with her, the small pocket of diamonds granted to her by the sovereign so many years ago. She curses under her breath; there is so much in this damned pouch, so many components and tools of her trade, and she can't find—

Her fist closes around a section of smooth velvet. "VAX!" Her voice echoes violently around the cavern. "KEYLETH, COME QUICK!"

As she spills the diamonds over Percy's unmoving chest, she motions for Vex, who still stands trembling and speechless just a few feet away, to come closer. The woman falls to her knees as Keyleth crawls up, hardly breathing through the force of her own sobs. Vax arrives in just a few moments, and even through her intense focus, Pike feels the balm of seeing baby Vilya in his arms ease her racing heart, just a bit.

She rips a piece of chalk from her pouch and begins to draw the carefully practiced symbols around Percy's head. "We have very little time," she explains, speaking in a rush. "We must coax Percy's spirit back to his body now."

"How?" Vex breathes, reaching down to grip his hand. Pike's eyes flick up; there is a flame of hope in Vex's watery eyes, and Pike will need that hope if they are to succeed in this.

"Say something. Anything. Whatever you think will make him want to come back." She drops the chalk, the final symbol completed. "Someone start!"

Vax looks down at the child he cradles so delicately. "She needs you, Percy. My daughter needs you. She needs an uncle, someone to teach her the things a father can't." He looks, then, to his wife, who weeps openly on the stone floor. "She needs you, too. You asked me once, if I could break her heart to save her life. The answer turned out to be no, because I am simply incapable of breaking her heart. And I think you would say the same, brother."

Pike looks down at the chalk markings around Percy's head. They glow, and she sighs in relief. "Next, please."

Keyleth sniffles, a loud, violent sound, and grabs onto Percy's free hand. "You already know why you must come back. We may have retrieved Vilya, but my family is not yet whole again. I cannot know peace without my brother by my side—and neither can Cassandra, who waits for you now in the woods above. We are not done loving you, Percy.

"I could not have made it here without you. I don't just mean to Whitestone, to Vilya, I mean...I could not have known that such love and happiness were possible for me if I did not first have you to show me that I were worthy of such things. And we have lost so much, you and I, and I simply cannot bear to lose any more. I know that I cannot be the leader that the Ashari deserve without you, my dearest friend and most loyal counsel, by my side, and so..." She wipes at her eyes, straightens her back. "I am ordering you, Lord Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III, back into your body and back by our side. Your future sovereign demands it."

Once again, the symbols around Percy's head glow, and Pike nods to Vex for her to finish the ritual. Vex stares at Percy, reaches up, brushes some hair from his staring eyes. She squeezes his hand, then takes a deep breath, holds it, and lets it out. Pike's fingers tap a nervous rhythm atop her knees; she doesn't want to rush Vex, but they are rapidly running out of time.

To her surprise, Vex leans down, hovering just above Percy's body, and brings her lips close to his ear. She whispers, her voice little more than a ghost in its own right, and Pike knows that there is no hope of Vax or Keyleth hearing what she says.

But Pike does.

"I need you, darling. We both do."

Vex straightens back up, and as the symbols glow for a third time, Pike swears she sees one of Vex's hands press into her belly for just a moment.

There's no time for Pike's mind to dwell on that for even a second, because suddenly, the symbols go dark, the chalk dimming to a dull gray that becomes almost invisible against the stone. No one breathes, all eyes locked on Percy's lifeless face. Even Vilya is silent in her father's arms. The moment stretches out infinitely, and Pike's heart sinks deeper and deeper into her stomach, sure that she has failed, sure that her friend is lost forever.

Then a cough, and his sightless eyes blink, and everyone's bodies sag in relief. They all gasp out sighs as Vex launches herself onto Percy, who is halfway through sitting up and catches her with a breathless oof. "Oh," he says, his voice still faint. "Well. Sorry about that."

Pike buries her face in her hands. She did it. He's alive. She sends a quick prayer to Sarenrae: Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Everyone is still somewhat speechless—no one has yet written an etiquette guide for best social practices after a friend has been risen from the dead—except for Keyleth, who clings onto Percy's side, babbling some teary, incoherent nonsense at a thousand words a minute. Percy just chuckles and pulls her into a one-armed hug. "Just needed a quick nap, is all."

Pike watches him exchange a look with Vax, his eyes darting between father and daughter in question. Vax nods and mouths, She's alright, and Percy's shoulders slump, the tension leeching away.

Just then, a small sound from deeper in the cavern draws their attention away from the formerly dead man. Pike looks past Vax to see a bruised and battered Lady Briarwood, up on the dais, her once-coiffed hair falling about her shoulders and a long, trembling finger aimed directly at the group on the ground.

Pike's heart leaps into her throat; Vax and Keyleth's backs are to her, but her shout of warning dies as panic overtakes her at the sight of crackling green energy gathering at the tip of the outstretched finger. Pike knows that she does not have the tools necessary to revive another lost friend, not here, not now—

It happens so quickly, she must put the pieces together after the fact. There is a thunderous boom, and then Lady Briarwood is a pile on the dais, and in the dancing flames of the torches, Pike can see viscous, red-black blood oozing from a round hole in her throat. She blinks, and now she sees Percy's gun in his hand, still raised and smoking. Pike cannot fathom the reflex, the quickness with which Percy snatched his gun up from where it had fallen beside him and aimed a perfect shot at Lady Briarwood's neck. He breathes heavily, eyes unblinking as he watches her choke to death on her own blood. Pike grips the holy symbol around her neck—Sarenrae, goddess of compassion, of healing, of redemption—and prays that Delilah Briarwood is carried on the swiftest of wings to the deepest bowels of hell.

[wind-corner]

Chapter two

Rotem knew his young master was indeed right, but the anger that needed for justice. Needed for vengeance, still stir inside him like a strom. Of memories from his childhood. The ones he's never been allowed to speak of. Closing his eyes he try to calm himself and yet is seemed so hard.

After all, what was it all for? A man who almost killed his mother?! Rotem may have been a child, But he was no fool! The pain and betyal that turn the love he had once held turn dark and went into pure hatred. And not just for the man but for his grandparents who buried the truth and silence him and his father while gaslighting his mother to keep the silence.

His fist tightened. He should walk away, but he hadnt saw thay man in years and he did promise himself to in act the justice that he manged to avoid with is cruel acts. But is the one infront of him the same as the one who he would become?

Though it seemed his inner question was answered. For he heard the sounds of someone hitting the ground. Rotem's eyes snap open to see master kailim (though his younger version) on the ground and of course his uncle standing next to him hand extended.

And it seemed he was right before, surely his childhood love would forgive him for saving many from the suffering? Extending his hand he he sent out a blade right at that son of a bitches.

What he hadn't expected was that the blade that should have stab right though the man who was still trying to reach for something had gotten deflected by a familiar staff. Though it did take him a moment to recall though his annoyance at having his easy victory snatched from him.

Looking to the person who held the diasomnia staff he saw an unfamiliar face. And glared at them. "Who do you think you are?!" He snarled at them.

The figure sighed and seemed to shift, though their poster was familiar he again didn't regnioze them. Said person looked him dead in the eyes before the spell they used to disguise themselves and the peices fell into place as to why he knew them.

Rotem chuckled, after all he must be really out of it to not realize such a simple puzzle. "I feel like I should be surprised, but given how I am quite use to having to chase you three around, the fact that you're here must mean all three of you are here?"

The girl before him nodded. She never was one for a lot of speaking, only doing so when she felt it needed to be said. If not for that he would have thought the girl was forced into silence... like he was.

He knew he should push the thought away. After all he could feel it just under his skin. The earge. The need. Festering under his skin. The need for justice. Or perhaps vengeance? But then again they would be one in the same.

And if he was able to do it quickly spilling that bastred's blood wouldn't take to much magic. Just one stab maybe he should push the fucker off some stairs and stab him with one if his blades since that would be the most fitting.

"So how should we do this? I can do a simple earen and than we can take you three home or i can send you three home first while I finish it myself." Rotem hummed acting in diffrent and he watched as the girl before him slightly loses up it was small, but it was what he was looking for as he willed a sword to form behind the three before him and again motion for it to hit the one who deserves to die.

But it seemed his young master wasn't going to let him have what he wanted, as he found himself falling and he had to quickly turn as he fell to keep from falling on his ass but he didn't have enough time to fully turn mean he landed on his arm.

The pain was going to be a problem, but he'll deal with it as he moved to get up the blade had clatter to the floor having drawn attention to itself he willed the blade to himself.

"Do you insist on doing needless things?" His words were practically hissed out as he glared at chaim. The boy didn't flinch and only stood tall.

"I don't find my actions needless, especially since we both know whats you're doing could badly effect the world." Rotem noted the house warden staff was being held tightly in his young masters hand. So he could guess the younger male was reluctanted.

Not that mater though turning to see where the asshole was he had rorem frowning as he noticed them fleeing and from his guess the girl who was his usual sparing partner when not running with the others seemed to be the reason. "Housewarden zigvolt, do you care to explain what you're doing?" He took a step towards the girl who huffed softly.

The staff would disappear and he watched as Brigitte pulled out a ribbon to tie up her hair. He could attack her now. But she has no idea what is wrong so he would give her that small leeway. Not to mention he could hear the humming of fans meaning they were about to be joined by the last member of the racing club.

".... rotem, you really should stop. We just need to go home, and stop the path you're heading down." Done with her hair the girl would look at him and he is reminded of how much his young master is deeply in love with the girl before him. She was a smart girl and knew how to take care of herself and others she also believed in doing what she thought was right.

If only that wasn't being a pain at the moment. "I just want to fix things and I would it would be such a simple task, if you moved out of the way."

"It didn't look like that."

"I still don't know why you hate him so much, but we don't know what would happen if you change the past here." Rotem turn to the young master and honestly he was growing more and more annoyed and he was slowly feeling more angry like the urge to do what he had to do screw his duty he needed revenge.

He care not about the feeling of something dark inside him, he just wanted to be selfish and give in to the urge that he has been shoving down for years, festering just beanth the surface. To allow those feelings out. enduring in the darkness that he never really realized were there.

Perhaps he should stop holding back and just do as that dark feeling demands. After all he would simply be doing everyone a favor by eliminating scum. He smirked darkly as he give into that darkness which washed over him like cool water on a hot day, yes this is right.

[set-phasers-to-whump]

caretaking

prompt: concussion

whumpee: illya kuryakin

fandom: the man from uncle

hi hello here's me giving illya another concussion :) this one was written for an anon, hope you like it!!!! note: it's set pretty early into their partnership (i simply love exploring that dynamic lol)

This is not the first time that Illya has been pistol-whipped. It is not the second or the third, either. The crack of metal against his forehead, the sharp, hot pain, the immediate rush of blood down his face, none of it is new. 

He’s used to this sort of thing - he lets his opponent get a hit in, lets them think he’s content to kneel and not fight back, and then strikes out. 

It is no different this time. He stays on his knees, biding his time while his angry captor rants at him, feeling the hot blood steadily drip down his skin. And then the right moment arises, and he lunges at the other man, taking him down silently and with practiced ease. The man is dead before his head even touches the ground. 

Illya stands up, the gun with his own blood darkening its metal in his hand. He wipes blood out of his eyes, takes a steadying breath to ward off the dizziness that usually accompanies a pistol-whipping, and sets off to find his partners. He hopes that they have had easier jobs of achieving their parts of the mission than he’s had. 

Fortunately, they have. Both of them are waiting for him at their agreed meeting spot a few streets away, none the worse for wear. 

“Everything is okay?” Illya asks, before either of the others can get a word in about the blood on his face. 

“I’ve got the disk,” says Gaby, holding up a green plastic container and shaking it. 

“I’ve got the codes,” says Solo, patting his jacket pocket. “And you’ve got blood all over your face.”

“I know. It’s fine. I have the key.”

“You know, a bloody face generally isn’t fine, in my experience.”

“In mine it is.”

By an unspoken mutual agreement, they begin walking, sticking to back alleys and unpopulated streets. “What happened?” Gaby asks, as they round a corner and step beneath an especially bright streetlight. Illya squints, the brightness making his head throb unpleasantly. 

“Nothing important.”

“Are you injured?” Solo asks. 

Gaby hits him on the arm. “What else does blood mean?”

“It’s fine.” Illya says, and hopes he doesn’t sound angry. He tries not to be angry when they ask after him like this. He’s getting better, he thinks, but their behavior is still foreign to him. He still doesn’t quite understand it or know what he is supposed to do with it. 

Both of his partners sigh in unison. Illya has learned that this is never a good sign in regards to being left alone. 

“You’re bleeding, Illya. We just want to make sure you’re okay.”

His head throbs again. He can feel his thoughts starting to go fuzzy and forces himself to concentrate. He’s had enough concussions to know the signs, but this is nothing he can’t handle. He’ll just have a headache for a few days. It isn’t important. 

“Really, I am fine.”

“At least tell us what happened?” Solo asks, as they come out into the service yard behind their hotel. 

Illya, hoping to get his insistent partners to stop their questioning, relents. “I got hit.” He shifts his jacket slightly to show them the gun that he has tucked into his waistband. “No big deal.”

“I’m sorry,” Solo says, putting an arm out to stop Illya when he reaches for the handle to the back door. “What I’m hearing is, you got pistol-whipped?”

Illya shrugs. “Yes.”

“And that’s fine to you?”

Illya gives him a sarcastic smile and then pushes past him, opening the door. “I have a hard head.”

It’s the middle of the night by now, and no one is inside the hotel when the three spies, one streaked with blood, step through the back door. 

“Good night,” Illya says, as they reach the empty staircase. His room is on the second floor, and both of them are down on the first. He is looking forward to a quiet, restful night, with nothing to bother him but his head. 

His partners, unfortunately, have other plans. “Sorry, no,” Gaby says, she and Solo both following Illya up the stairs towards his room. “You have a head injury.”

“It is barely a scratch,” Illya lies. He has been steadily getting dizzier for the past several minutes, and there’s an insistent nausea pressing at his chest. He wants very badly to simply lie down and fall asleep. 

“Then we’ll be quick,” Solo says. “Besides, we might as well enjoy our last night here. I happen to know the hotel provided you with a rather decent bottle of scotch.”

“How do you know that?” Illya asks, and then the door to his room is opening in front of him. 

He looks to Solo, who grins and holds up Illya’s room key. Illya snatches it back from him with a practiced scowl, and with nothing else to do, steps inside with his partners at his heels. 

Gaby takes charge, pushing him towards the couch and telling Solo to get the first-aid kit which all three of them are required to carry. 

As soon as Solo brings the kit, Gaby, without waiting to give Illya any time to protest, begins to clean his face with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol. Her movements are sure and quick and Illya closes his eyes and forces himself not to react, both to the sting of the alcohol and to the feeling of someone else touching his face. 

This done, Gaby stares intently at him. Solo joins in. Illya refuses to look back at them.  

“That’s a pretty deep gash,” Solo says. “Are you feeling okay? Are you dizzy at all? Nauseous?”

“Concussed?” Gaby adds, in case Solo’s questions had not been obvious enough. 

Illya shakes his head, which is not a good idea. Everything spins. He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. 

“Illya, are you okay?”

He opens his eyes and looks at the concerned faces of his partners. He feels angry. At himself, mostly, for showing weakness. At them, a bit, for being so insistent, even though he has been slowly learning that this is simply how they are. 

“I’m fine.”

“You’re pale.”

“It’s the lights.”

“You look…off.”

“I said, I am fine!” Illya snaps, shooting to his feet. Immediately, black spots fill his vision and his ears start to ring and he only just manages to stop himself from throwing up right there on the hotel floor. 

He shuts his eyes and doesn’t move. Steady hands push him gently downwards until he’s sitting back down on the couch. He keeps his eyes closed and folds himself over so that his head is nearly resting on his knees and just tries to breathe and waits for this to pass. 

His partners’ hands are still touching him, even after several seconds. This prolonged contact is new. Despite his slight discomfort with the sensation, it is grounding. He knows where he is. Who he is with. All he has to do is sit and breathe and wait for his head to stop spinning, wait until he does not feel like he is going to pass out.

Eventually, he feels steadier. Very slowly, Illya sits up and opens his eyes. 

Solo is crouched next to him with a hand on his knee and another on his back. Gaby is on the couch on his other side, one hand on his back and one on his arm. 

“How are you feeling?” Solo asks, and his voice is as gentle and quiet as Illya has ever heard it. 

“Okay,” Illya says. “Not so dizzy.”

“I think you might be concussed.”

“Yes.” He supposes he cannot very well deny it now. 

“And you were planning on, what? Hiding it from us?”

“The mission is almost over.”

“You don’t stop being hurt just because we’re not actively working.”

“It is not so important.”

“Of course it’s important,” Gaby says. “You’re our partner. Whether we are on a mission or not.”

Here it is again, that alien, confusing concern. Illya finds that he is too worn out to fight it off, to think about what it means. He stays silent. 

“Why don’t you get some rest?” Solo asks, squeezing his knee. “We’ll stay, wake you up every couple of hours.”

Illya blinks at him. No one has ever offered to stay. He doesn’t need it. But…

“You aren’t allowed to say no,” Gaby says. “It’s protocol.”

He does remember their medical training. He had simply assumed he would be able to ignore it when necessary. Apparently today he has no such luck. 

“Okay,” he agrees, since there is nothing else for him to do.

Both of them smile at him, which is a bit strange. And then their hands are guiding him again, and he doesn’t have it in him to shrug them off. 

He ends up lying down on the couch, legs slightly bent so that he can fit. Solo drapes a blanket over him - Illya has no idea where he’d gotten it from - and Gaby turns off the light. 

“See you in a couple hours,” Solo says. “Sweet dreams.”

Gaby touches his cheek, quick as anything. “Good night, Illya.”

“Good night,” Illya mumbles, and at last falls asleep. 

thanks for reading! this could probably be better edited but i am tired so i am gonna go to sleep lmao. hope you liked it! <3

[catholicdaredevil]

home || eddie munson x gn! reader

summary: after seeing chrissy die, eddie shows up at your apartment in the middle of the night, scared and alone

warnings: mentions of death (chrissy obviously), hurt/comfort

words: 1.7k

ao3 link

gif credit: @winterswake (also he is so pretty in this gif i wish he wasn't sad)

Tap. Tap. Tap. 

The rain hitting your window draws you from sleep slowly. Wrapped in warm blankets and the muffled quiet of your apartment, broken only by the sound of the rain. It takes several moments for you to realize the tapping is too rhythmic to actually be rain, your eyes finally cracking to see your dark room lit up by the silvery moonlight that filters in the curtains that hang on either side of your window, only drawn the first couple inches in.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Shadows move across your wall, finally coming into focus, taking shape. A person. Your gasp gets caught in your throat as you finally turn to see what the noise is, there’s someone outside your window. A familiar shape is crouched on the roof outside your apartment window and when they shift, the light finally hits the side of their face, Eddie Munson. Your eyes finally adjust to see there’s tear tracks shining down his cheeks and his brown eyes are blown wide with panic.

Eddie had started as just your weed dealer, it’s not like you had run in the same circles back when you were still in high school. Then all those moments out in the woods where he’d put on a show just to get you to smile, late nights in parking lots getting high and talking about anything and everything under the sun. Saturday’s spent plastered together on a couch, watching movie after movie as you passed a joint back and forth. Before you knew it, he had become a staple in your life and probably your best friend. 

Even after all of that, you’d never seen him like this. Not even before he had moved in with his uncle and was practically homeless trying to be anywhere but in his house with his parents. Eddie had spent weeks either sleeping in his van or sneaking in your window to sleep on a pile of blankets on your floor and never let it bother him. At least he’d never let it show. It’s enough to shake the last remnants of sleep out of your body as you scramble to open the window. The moment it opens you can hear his breath hitch and he collapses onto your floor with a choked off cry. 

“Eddie?” You breathe, closing the window behind him before running your hands over him in a desperate attempt to find whatever must be hurting him. “Eds, what’s wrong?”

“I left her, Jesus Christ, I left her.” Eddie’s words are tripping over one another and you can barely make them out between the panicked breathing that heaves from his chest. He’s on his knees on your carpeted floor, covered in sweat and shaking.

Your hands freeze on his shoulders, eyes still scanning him just to make certain he’s not hurt somewhere. It’s hard to make sense of what he’s saying, every noise tangled together into an incomprehensible mess, “What?” 

“She’s dead,” He moans out, pushing himself up enough to launch at you, pushing you back onto the edge of your bed. Knelt in front of you like a desperate man in prayer. His arms wrap around your waist as he buries his face into your stomach and finally the sobs trapped in his chest come freely. “She’s dead and I didn’t know what to do, I ran. I ran and I left her there.”

His words send a chill down your spine, if it were anyone else you’d ask if they were joking. But his fear is tangible, in the trembling of his body and the whine in his voice. You shift back until you’re seated more firmly, holding yourself steady as he continues to push into you. “Eddie, who's dead?” 

He mumbles into your shirt, voice muffled through the fabric and his crying, “Chrissy.” 

“Chrissy… Chrissy Cunningham? The cheerleader?” Eddie chokes out a noise you take as an affirmation, his arms tightening around you as he dissolves into complete incoherence. You’re pretty sure he’s still talking, picking out bits and pieces of sobbed words. 

I left her. I left her. She’s dead. I left her.

Eddie had told you about Chrissy, how surprised he had been when she sought him out, asking if it was true that he had weed. Neither of you had ever expected Chrissy Cunningham, head cheerleader, to be someone who smoked. Yet they’d meet at the table, your table, in the woods. You remember when he had laid on your floor next to you, both of you staring at the ceiling as he talked about how it had almost reminded him of you. The way he could tell something was going on in her life, his unshakeable desire to help, pushing him further into his new friendship with her. 

“Eddie,” you whisper, hand carding through his hair, pulling tangles from the frizz that halos around his head. Eddie whimpers at your touch and you can feel your shirt soak with the tears that accompany his gasping breaths. It breaks your heart to see him like this, the shattered pieces of a man who you’d attributed with so much strength finally fall apart under your touch. “What happened?”

“I don’t know.” Eddie gasps, finally lifting his head to meet your eyes. His brown eyes, not their usual pools of warmth, broken and red under whatever he’d seen. His fingers grip  your shirt, knuckles white at the force, like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t hold you down. 

“She– She asked if I had anything stronger, I figured she was just going through something more serious than I had originally thought–” He hiccups and takes a moment to pull in a steadying breath before continuing, “I stepped into my room for a minute. Just a minute– I swear, it was just a minute. I came back and she was… Oh God.” 

“It’s like she was in a trance, I tried to wake her up, I tried everything. Next thing I knew she was in the air, just hanging there and her bones started to snap and I ran, I just ran. I was so scared, I ran and I left her there, I just left her. Why did I leave her?” 

Eddie’s voice cracks and the tears are back, streaming down his face. He’s not here, no longer in the room with you, no longer even in your apartment. The far-away look in his eye is telling enough. In his head he’s across town, scared and alone, watching Chrissy Cunningham die in his trailer. All over again, and again. 

You’re desperate for any way to comfort him, any way to ease this pain he keeps reliving. Cupping his face in your hands, your thumbs trace back and forth to wipe the tears from his cheeks. “It’s gonna be okay Eddie, I promise.”

Eddie pulls his face from your hands, rolling his eyes and finally sitting up, moving several feet away from you. He puts the usual venom in his words, the way he does when he’s trying to hide his real feelings. You’ve heard this voice before, just never been on the receiving end of it. “Yeah, right, you probably don’t even believe me.”

“I do believe you–”

“Don’t bullshit me!” Eddie suddenly shouts, eyes on his hands that still shake, held clasped together in his lap. His whole body tenses, like he’s getting ready to run, all the fear of an animal caught in a trap. It’s too much and he pushes himself to his feet, pacing across your floor with trembling steps. You flinch at the sudden noise and all of the fight drains out of him, face turned back to the window. His voice is quiet when he finishes his thought. “I know how this sounds. I wouldn’t believe me either.”

You wait for a moment, letting him work some of his panic out as you climb back on your bed to lean against the headrest. He turns to finally face you as you pat the spot next to you, reading the clear hesitation on his face. Eddie lifts his head enough to look at you, to see the small smile pulling at your lips and he can’t help it. His need for closeness overpowers the poisonous weeds of fear that have been winding around him. Kicking off his shoes, he crawls into your bed sitting next to you with a sigh. 

You rest your hand on his shoulder, watching the last of his resolve crumble until he twists to hide his face in your shirt again. The tears are quieter, the crying of a man who’s given up, who’s accepted his fate as being as fucked as he thinks it is. You run your hands up and down his spine until his breathing finally evens out, syncing up with yours unconsciously.

“You’re a lot of things Eddie Munson.” Your voice is soft and thoughtful and he lifts his head to meet your eyes. The look you give him just solidifies that he made the right choice, the right out of his mind panicked choice that he didn’t even realize he’d made until he was turning onto your street. His body mindlessly pulling him to you for comfort. You lock eyes with him and the intensity in your stare sends a shiver down his spine. 

“A liar is not one of them.”

The remaining tension that he holds in his body finally fizzles out and Eddie leans into you, tucking his head into the crook of your shoulder and wrapping his arm around your waist again. New tears hit your skin, but this time it’s relief. In the mumbled repeated mantra of his thanks, pressed into your skin. You go back to running your hands through his hair as moonlight shifts through your window to shine onto the both of you. 

“I won’t lie, I have no idea what this all means. But I believe you, I’ll always believe you Eddie.” It never occured to you to do anything but believe him and yet you hear the strangled noise in his throat at your words. The continued disbelief that there is actually someone who is finally in his corner, on his side, through thick and thin and even the craziest of nights that he’s just had. There’s a smothered sniffle that comes from him and you hold him to you even tighter, one of your arms sliding around his shoulders. “We’ll get through this together, I won’t leave you.”

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

Find the word

Thanks @annetilney for the tag and super sorry it took so long!

Rules: I give you five words to find in your WIPs and you post excerpts containing them! Then tag people with five words of their own

My words: utter, gorgeous, glimmer, emerald, plum (I'm sorry if I'm using the wrong words)

Your words: news, bare, dry, offer, take

Tagging: @gracehosborn @queerfox-tales @theelfauthor @jamieanovels @elizaellwrites @mr-writes @minutiaewriter @little-mouse-gardens @thyroidhormones @missinnoccent @myhusbandsasemni @ladydarkphoenix-blog @leighvalentin @living-dead-girl515 @falesiacats @writingmoth @27fanficlilies

See under the cut for my excerpts! These were hard words to find.

Utter:

This is from The Secret Portal, Part Four. Yes, I got that far before deciding to overhaul the series again. However, as this is Draft Four (the first valid draft) I'm fine with this excerpt and plan to keep it. This is a wholesome flashback to Robbie's first day of preschool.

Robbie wasn't really sure where he was, only that his mom had told him he was going to school.

Robbie of course had heard about school. There were many picture books that followed kids on their first day of preschool from Preschool Day Hooray! to Llama Llama Misses Mama.

Robbie actually had already known how to read for a few months. He had gotten his glasses about a month before he turned three, which prompted him to run to his favorite books that he’d had practically memorized, discovering what each word his mother had spoken actually looked like with utter fascination.

But the schools depicted in the picture books didn’t account for the fact that Robbie’s preschool was a program at a high school. Robbie didn’t know much about high school other than it was preschool for kids so much older than Robbie that he often confused them for adults. The high school where his preschool was was huge. So big that he pressed up against his mother, who was holding his hand in hers.

Gorgeous:

From The Secret Portal Part Two. Carmen's perspective in a flashback to when she was 18 and leaving her uncle's house forever.

I padded across the hall toward the stairs. Past Uncle Omar’s room. I took the stairs one at a time, praying that no sound would be made. I reached the ground floor and raced across the large hall to the door. I slid it open and began to cross through. I looked back at the house that I used to call home. The stairs intertwining the gorgeous waterfall. “Fuck you,” I muttered in the darkness, turning my back on it forever, taking the steps with my right foot first for the last time.

Glimmer:

This is from The Secret Portal Part One, from the draft I'm working on finally.

Eventually, we entered a clearing where a handful of people were scattered around. “Robbie!” A boy about his age waved him over. “Where were—” he noticed Kelsey. “Oh, you found her.” “Take her to Wade,” said Robbie, passing Kelsey to the other boy, who began leading her further into the clearing. It wasn't until then I realized the strange smoothness of the kid’s movements and glanced down to discover he was flying. A tall blond teen in a letterman helped Kelsey lie on the ground. He held his palms on either side of her head, a soft white aura glimmering off his palms.

Emerald:

This is from The Secret Portal, Part Three, from the last draft. I may keep this scene but maybe not. We'll see. This is in the POV of Jazlyn.

“Close your eyes!” I did, a smile stretching across my face. “Open them up.” When I did, I gasped. “Oh my gosh!” I took the necklace from him, cradling the green gem at the end. “It’s beautiful!” “I remembered you telling me your birthday,” said Ewan. “It’s an emerald. Your birthstone.” I put it around my neck, still not being able to wipe the smile off my face. I leaned forward, wrapping my arms around him. “Thank you.” Ewan returned the embrace. “You’re welcome.”

Plum:

Would you believe me if I told you I looked EVERYWHERE for ONE INSTANCE where I used this??? Because I did. In the fanfic I never want to touch again. In the old shit I wrote in middle school. EVERYWHERE. Every file I have saved. Nothing. You know what the closest was???

My stomach plummeted. I wanted to be here to find Dr. Ivory. Now everyone would know my plans.

Yeah imagine me Ctrl+F and finally finding something and it's not the right word.

Whatever.

[sound-under-the-sea]

Emperor’s Coven and the Meaning of Loyalty.

Coven Scouts are loyal to their Coven Head of EC and the Scout Captains that are nice to them. Scout Captains are also loyal to the Coven Head of EC. Especially those who went through training with them and are nice as they understand what it feels to be trapped here.

The Previous Golden Guard was highly revered amongst Coven Scouts and Scout Captains as he tried to help make this place comfortable and helping adjust the system during the early years. After he received the news from his Uncle about keeping deaths a secret, they noticed a shift in his mood as more reforms were happening. They tried asking what was wrong, but he only responded with “Emperor Belos is administrating a strict training regiment for the new recruits. That is all.”

“But—.”

“We cannot go against the word of the Emperor. That is final.”

The Scout Captains were perplexed by the sudden changes of routine and the lack of care for their Scouts. The Scouts grew quiet of their complaints as to not upset their superiors. More importantly they were concerned for their superior, as he became more quiet, distant and seemed quite tired as the years passed and more regulations were brought in.

When Lilith was appointed to be the next Coven Head when she was thirty-five, Scout Captains were already familiar with her and as were some of their Squadrons. Along with her shadow, Steve, they mostly approved of her being in charge with some being upset that they weren’t chosen as they could’ve done a far more better job, but they dare not protest. They knew she would understand what it meant to be on the field than the Emperor’s assistant, Kikimora.

The Scouts and Scout Captains are protective of each other and their Coven Head than they are of the Emperor at times. He isn’t with them, he isn’t there for them, but they still take the praise anyways. Though their loyalty lies with their Coven Head. Not to anyone else.

They do not care for the other Coven Heads as they are merely replaceable and expendable to them. They don’t care if they are hurt or dead, they can find another one. If they were to die by their hand, it’s not like it will get out and they’ll be arrested because a member got killed as they couldn’t risk a scandal getting out. Much to everyone’s frustration, but they say nothing like they’re suppose to.

Similarly, Steve and Lilith will come immediately when they catch wind that a Scout is being harassed by one of the harsher Coven Heads. Or they will distract the Coven to give the Scout enough time to escape. The Elder Coven Heads don’t respect Lilith much less Steve, but it matters little to them as long as a Scout is safe.

The Scouts and Scout Captains are equally protective of them as they respect Steve as Lilith’s right hand and second in command of the Coven. Without him, they wouldn’t have many of the practices that make being here as a dreadful. Whatever orders are given by him, they believe they are from Lilith. Scout Captains bring their concerns to him if Lilith is unavailable as they know he will pass along the message.

They respect Lilith for ability to approve of Steve’s ideas to help make this place bearable as well as helping with them on the field unlike Kikimora, who only wishes to ignore and disregard their concerns, so they never bring their concerns to her but rather Lilith.

When it came to Hunter, their first instinct was: “WHO’S CHILD IS THIS?!?!”

Eventually they realized that the Emperor request that Hunter be trained a few years earlier than a typical Scout much to everyone’s shock and bewilderment by his request. Their protective instincts went into overdrive as they immediately told Steve and Lilith that there was a child in their ranks. At first they believed they were talking about the usual new recruits, but were floored when they saw Hunter was far younger than the usual Scout recruit.

“What are we going to do about this?!” A Scout Captain snapped. “The Emperor can’t be serious, can he?”

“He won’t care if he died.” Another Captain added. “Does he not realize how intense he made the training regiment? This kid can’t handle that!”

“Ask for a new coffee maker for ten years and we can’t have that, but suddenly drop a kid on us for no reason.” An older Scout grumbled.

“Alright…alright, that’s enough.” Lilith said, frowning. “I will ask why the Emperor felt that he needed to be here. Surely there is a rational reason for all of this.”

Lilith would go asking why they were suddenly given a far younger than usual, but he simply said “it was the Titan’s Will”. Which wasn’t helpful, but she couldn’t protest further.

The Scouts and Captains were less than pleased with the arrangement, but they became protective of him like any other Scout much to Hunter’s confusion. He dragged to sleeping piles because they noticed he was also insomniac, and got him involved in the sleeping piles. They also helped if ever got hurt in a training exercise.

When Darius and Eberwolf tried visit Hunter, he was met by several protective Coven Scouts. Eber had to stop him as they noticed the protective pack tactics amongst them and it wasn’t a good idea to provoke a pack who are weary of trust.

After Lilith left due to treason with Hunter was appointed as the new Head of the Coven, there was even more outrage within the Coven over the Emperor’s decision. Steve was even more upset by this irrational thought process as his older brother instincts started.

“This has got to be the most stupidest idea ever.” A Scout Captain hissed. “How is he going to handle reports, do the Emperor’s biding and be with us?”

“I don’t know,” he muttered, as he ran his hand through his hair. “I know for certain he isn’t doing reports. He’s seen too much shit, writing out those reports and the letters aren’t his responsibility.”

“Then who? We both know Kikimora could give less than two shits about us.” He huffed.

“I’ll do it.” He states.

“You’ll think he’ll let you?”

“No, but I haven’t been Lilith’s shadow this long in order to let someone stop me.”

While Hunter handled missions for Belos or sneaked off to prove himself, Steve handled concerns and paperwork accordingly. As if nothing had changed. Any issues were brought to him and he would inform Hunter if necessary.

The loyalty in the Emperor’s Coven is a hard one to break, but it’s not to the Emperor.

[phantoms-lair]

ReDMC 4 snippet (Ashley finds out)

Leon breathed a sigh of relief as the last Ganados fell, then went about the annoying task of pulling the axes, machetes and pitchfork from his body. Sure he could have dodged them, but any weapon embeded in him was one that couldn't harm - he heard the click of a gun. Ashley.

Ashley stood on a corner of the room, pointing his own gun at him with trembling hands. "You're one of them." She accused.

"Rude." said Leon, putting his hands up. At this point he knew didn't have much to fear from conventional gunfire, but his gun had been modified for demon. But it was his own fault. He'd gotten used to working with people in the know and forgot how disturbing watching him fight would be to an ordinary girl. "I am one hundred percent parasite free, I'll have you know."

"Then what are you?" Her voice was still shaking, as was her arms, which compounded her own atrocious trigger discipline. He couldn't blame her though. She must have been so scared when her rescuer turned out to be another monster. And truthfully he didn't think telling her he was a demon would make her feel any better. Time for a half truth. "I'm what you get when super soldiers have kids."

"Super soldiers?" Lovely bit of sarcasm in her voice.

"My Grandfather." Leon continued, gracefully dropping to a crosslegged sitting position on the floor to look less threatening. He'd had lots of practice trying to be none threatening. "Created by this psycho named Mundus to basically conquer the world for him. Except Gramps said nuts to that, wiped out Mundus's army and got Mundus locked up for life. Met my Grandmother, and had a couple of bouncing baby boys who were capable of doing things grown men shouldn't be capable of, much less children. Grandma must have been a saint." He wished he'd had a chance to meet her, even if she wasn't his actual grandmother, Dante had made her sound like a amazing woman.

"Sadly, Mundus being locked up, not dead, came back to bite the happy young family as he sent an assassin to murder Grampa. Now Grampa was pretty much invincible in a straight fight, but against an assassin sent by the person who knew all his weaknesses? Grampa died and Grandma tried to run with the boys but the assassin eventually caught up with her too."

"Neither of the brothers were in a great place after that. Dad became a mercenary. My uncle got taken in by a bastard promising revenge and got himself killed. Dad went into a depressive funk at losing his last living relative and went on a blackout drinking bender that, nine months later, produced a new relative. Me."

They were out of history of the 'Redgrave' Family and into the carefully crafted story he and Dante had come up with. "When she found out she was pregnant, the woman went back to the bar, but Dad had only been passing through and the bartender didn't know where to find him. After birth she decided nine months with me was enough and put me up for adoption. A while later Dad passed through town again and heard he had a kid. He tracked her down, she wrung him out. But as she didn't want anything to do with me, she couldn't tell him where I was."

"Dad eventually tracked me down and saw I had been happily adopted by a nice normal family that didn't have to worry about assassins or the type of enemies mercenaries make and decided maybe I was better off without him. At least until my first day at work, which was the last day of Raccoon City's existence."

"You were there." Ashley's voice was small. She must have been a child at the time, but the destruction of Raccoon was a major thing. Kid of like what his adopted parents said the JFK assassination was like for them.

"Yeah, and it's where I had to face that I wasn't normal. I was always a little stronger, a little faster, healed up quicker. But there, with my life on the line? Normal and I parted ways permanently. It terrified me, but it let me pull more survivors out that I could have otherwise." Ada, Ben, Sherry, Claire. Without the strength of his demon side who knew if he or any of them would have survived. "Dad met me afterwards. It was like looking into the future and seeing myself in twenty years, the resemblance was that strong. But I have answers. And you do too. So can we continue this rescue, or are you going to try and kill me with my own gun?" Ashley still looked hesitant. "You could have gotten this gun from me at any time, couldn't you?" "Probably." Leon admitted. "But I don't like.. acting against other humans." Ashley raised an eyebrow. "I'm 3/4th human, That still counts." "And how human are those?" She gestured to the Ganados he's killed.

"Zero. They're the corpses of humans being manipulated by a demonic parasite." "Demonic?" "Don't tell me it doesn't fit." Honestly, like with Hunnigan, he'd rather anyone else give the 'surprise demons are real' spiel. He was trying to convince them he wasn't going to turn on them, let someone else bare that bad news. "The point it, by the time the parasite matures, the host is already dead." "And if I was infected, would you kill me?" "If you were infected with the egg or larval stage I'd move Earth and Hell to save you. As an adult- is that really what you want?" He gestured to the dead ganados, many of them with the parasite tentacled form slumped where the person's head used to be. "Is that what you really want to be your final disposition to be? Remember at that stage you're already dead and it's just the Plaga using you as a skin suit."

"I don't want any of this." Ashley screamed.

"Neither did I," said Leon quietly.

[mlobsters]

supernatural s9e11 first born (w. robbie thompson)

this reminds me a bit of teen wolf in the plot overload disorder. i don't think i even bothered mentioning abaddon last episode. too much shit going on! also makes me laugh that we're in the 1800s, teen wolf also had this very weird (not good) flashback for the history of the argents (in the 1700s) 😂

all right, i know it's cain here, but i don't know anything really beyond that. except the mark at some point.

CROWLEY So...is that boudoir smile for me?

crowley's back in his sweet spot of evil but also maybe helpful but also probably trying to fuck you over. much better than just flat evil

CROWLEY I've been chasing that blade for decades. The closest I got to it was when one of my droogs -- Smitty -- got wind of a protégé demon of Abaddon's who claimed knowledge of the blade. Sadly, before Smitty could nab the guy, a hunter by the name of John Winchester nabbed the protégé. I'm here to see if there's anything in the John Winchester memorial library that might lead us to the first blade -- to killing Abaddon. DEAN You want to hunt? With me? CROWLEY I do love a good buddy comedy.

i know people talk up how crowley feels about dean but to me crowley is just horny for literally everyone and/or no one. sheppard is just so charismatic in this part

why is this so cute!

laughed out loud, good one. i'm the BEST liar, i totally fucked you both over, don't you remember??? don't besmirch my lying abilities, bro

i thought being totally sober would make me less loquacious but sadly, no ;(

CROWLEY Is all this really necessary? I mean, I've been inside your brother. We're practically family. DEAN Listen to me. We are the furthest thing from family. You got that, dickbag?

while dean does like to adopt every stray he comes across, the king of hell apparently doesn't qualify 😩

cas seemed disappointed about the lack of an actual guinea pig. understandable

sam barely keeping it together haha

hello sarah connor 🔥

CROWLEY I can help. Dean? DEAN He wants Abaddon as dead as I do. TARA If your daddy could see you now.

stop the doom spiral of guilt, dean. it's complicated, okay??? and shooting the floor in her own shop to break the devil's trap, what the actual fuck 😂

CROWLEY Would you care to join us? TARA Him? Anytime. You? Never.

hot lady who banged his dad, of course she wants to jump dean too. reminds me of this

s7e19 of grave importance

SAM Annie's not usually this late, is she? DEAN No, never. She's totally compulsive. I'll try her cell. SAM You know, uh, you know she and Bobby had a thing, right? DEAN Yeah. Yeah, I knew that. Really? SAM Yeah. Kind of a foxhole thing – very Hemingway. DEAN Huh. She and I kind of went Hemingway this one time, too. SAM All right, well... that happens. DEAN What, you too? SAM Look, it was a while back. We ended up on the same case. She was stressed. I-I-I... I didn't... have a soul. DEAN That's a lot of foxholes.

what a pretty face! i don't know much religious lore but i wasn't expecting cain to be scary for crowley. i have no idea where he lands in the food chain, in fact

DEAN Why don't you just zap out of here? CROWLEY I'd never leave my domestic partner in crime. DEAN [snorts] Yeah, like your heart grew three sizes. You can't zap out of here, can you?

i wonder if crowley could make it an entire day without flirting with anyone

CASTIEL Sam, the trials. You chose not to go through with them for a reason, didn't you? You chose to live rather than to sacrifice yourself. You and Dean... You chose each other. SAM Yeah, I did. We did. And then... Dean made a choice for me.

😔

how does finding gadreel fix things?

cain became a demon, okay (aha things are clicking that i know from fic lol). so with the whole dean and sam are descended from cain and abel, does that mean cain is grandpa? uncle?

CASTIEL No. Why must the Winchesters run toward death?

good question, cas

sometimes i wonder how things are lit (in all media, not just spn), if they're trying to give the appearance of someone being on the verge of tears. when you got that highlight near your lower eyelid, it really looks like it regardless of actual tears accumulating. anyway,

SAM My life's not worth any more than anyone else's -- not yours or Dean's...or Kevin's. Please. Please, help me do one thing right. Keep going.

oh, sam.

@shinelikethunder linked this fight scene with rhianna's s&m over it, i may not be feeling the vibes op is talking about but i can appreciate it nonetheless :) it's a really good fight scene for jackles and great song choice. i'm always mourning the spn that could have been with better music 😔

looking to see if there was a clean version on spotify of s&m out of curiosity and laughing that there's a kids version of the "sex in the air, i don't care i love the smell of it, sticks and stones may break my bones but chains and whips excite me" song

DEAN Right. Yeah, except I didn't kill my brother. CAIN You saved yours. Why? DEAN Because you never give up on family -- ever. CAIN Where's your brother now, then?

ouch.

also, cain is retired, other demons didn't know where he was, but apparently he still gets the hot gossip on the winchesters somehow.

CASTIEL Sam, I want Gadreel to pay as much as you do. But nothing is worth losing you.

oh i see

ah fucking hell speaking of music, this melody is back. what did i associate it with last time. twilight and something. i think when dean was praying in his room to cas. it's at the very end of this post, i included video of it - s8e16

something about this mushy music has me feeling twilight or hunger games and i'm not sure which. ugh. bella's lullaby / rue's music (but that doesn't even have piano but it does have that plucked acoustic guitar like day before yesterday's s8e14 princess bride-esque music)

and apparently it really was time for sam and cas quality time. but anyway this melody is so familiar, kicks in when cas says the thing about him screwing up more than sam. is it a slowed down version of some spn theme? urgh. question may go unanswered until i rewatch from the beginning.

so anyway, that was a nice moment. i like how robbie is writing cas this episode

DEAN The jawbone of an animal. The jawbone you used to kill Abel because he was God's favorite. CAIN Abel wasn't talking to God. He was talking to Lucifer. Lucifer was gonna make my brother into his pet. I couldn't bear to watch him be corrupted, so I offered a deal -- Abel's soul in heaven for my soul in hell. Lucifer accepted... As long as I was the one who sent Abel to heaven. So, I killed him. Became a soldier of Hell -- a knight.

listen i don't know these stories except for very broad strokes but okaaaay interesting twist

ABADDON We could have been forever, but you chose her. Well, if I can't have you, then neither can she.

i see. ex and you're her... creator? complicated

welp. i didn't know dean was getting the mark in this episode, wheels are in motion

aw. sweet sammy

CASTIEL As far as I'm concerned, Metatron is the key to fixing everything that's wrong. I'm gonna find him. You know, Sam, we could use all the help we could get to find Gadreel and Metatron.

--

CROWLEY You don't mean that. We're having too much fun. Listen up. Even with the Blade, we're gonna need all the help we can get against Abaddon. DEAN Go find the Blade. CROWLEY It's always something with you boys, isn't it?

cute. but yes, show sure likes to do it!

i'm sure it's fine

[luxmaeastra]

//MAE SECRETSSS//

Sebastian stilled and looked to Azriel. Why? Why did he hated Viren and Night so much? Why let him be trained by them if he despised them?

Sebastian lowered his staff, wood and etched in gold wyrdmarks. The only bit of weaponry he had from his family before they'd been killed.

"I didn't have a problem with Viren and Sarai for years actually. They helped your mother and I smuggle witches out. They aided in bolstering our spy network. They pulled us back up when we both lost everything in Cassandra's fallout."

He exhaled and ran his staff along the dirt of the training floor.

'Then my brother was born. Solmir was born a decade before you two. I- I was sent to be raised in Achlys court. My uncle was...he was gearing up for a coup and my parents sent me away to protect me, a potential Heir to the Family. I didn't see them till after Cassandra fell. Some 30 years later. They were so proud of me, so happy to meet your mother."

He exhaled, his head tipping back to keep his emotions at bay.

"When Solmir was born I already had a sister. She was 6 years older than him. I adored them. loved them so much. Natalia and I would take care of them, we joked that they were our practice before we -"

He shook his head moving to set the staff up.

"Solmir was 14, old enough to know the rules that Changelings live by. It's simple, you die before you put your family in jeopardy. Still he broke and told them where to find our parents. I was gone on a mission with your mother. We - it was probably the most fun we had in years. And I came back to my home destoryed."

He looked to Azriel gripping the staff hard.

"My house was in shambles, my parents dead in different places of the home. My sister she - she her clothes were torn Azriel. You can guess how she spent her final moments. She was beautiful, she had a potential mate ready for her. She was supposed to go with him on his travels but she stayed behind. Solmir had been found and taken home. He says that he didn't know, he hoped they wouldn't use his information. But she wanted to stay for him, to give him some stability after everything he endured."

He didn't move, too much anger to think it was a idea to leave. If he let this staff go who knew if he'd go for his sword. Who knew if he could stop from slaughtering Solmir then.

"We both came back. Solmir was hurt but he not a lot. He'd hidden in the barn like a coward why our parents and sister had been slaughtered. I let my sister's mate break him for awhile. twistnhis mind and drive him a little mad. Viren came and stoped us. He killed my sister's mate and refused to tell me what thought he'd found to be so horrendous that he would kill for it. He stopped me from killing Solmir and demanded an oath from me. I would let him go, disavow him and leave him alone. In exchange Viren would owe me a favor of my choosing at a later date. He always had a soft spot for the downtrodden."

"What was the favor you asked for?"

Sebastian blinked, trying to think beyond the rage. He exhaled and looked to Azriel.

"For Solmir to train you two and Noelle's children. Solmir had the benefit to be trained under Asteri trainers, to be raised with them in ways I would never be able to provide. I may not like Viren but he is fair - Solmir's experience is benefical and why should he horde it?"

--------

Viren sipped at his whisky and stared at the fire in his office. He looked to Azriel, he remembered that day vividly. He remembered the blood and escalation.

"The thought? Pericles orchested it or at least participated in the whole thing. He found your aunt Thaisa in the sacking and mated her. I don't claim to understand the nuances of Changeling family politics. But I strongly suspected he kidnapped Solmir to throw this allinto motion to begin with."

"Why - why didn't you ever tell my father that! Viren set his glass down and looked to Azriel.

"Your father wouldn't have believed me. More importantly he would have been devasted. Whatever our issues I count him as one of my oldest friends. I am trying to spare him some pain. Maybe Thaisa helped it? Maybe her parents didn't approve even if Sebastian had.I don't know all the specifics. But I don't want him to ruminate on this Azriel. Your father had been through a lot, your mother too. I rather not give them more heartache than needed."

//🥺💔🥺💔//

He took what he was told with a pinch of salt, he weighed it and considered the possibilities: he could have been lying to make himself seem better, he could have been protecting someone, or he could have been telling the truth. The only ones who knew the truth were not there to confirm, nor deny.

Still, if there were truth, who was Viren to decide what his father knew? His father had a right to know the truth, to know exactly what had happened instead of living with the false narrative he remembered. Especially if it helped mend the bonds between brothers, though the bond between brothers were not always worth it.

Azriel folded his arms and looked away from the High Lord of Night - King if his mate had her way. His eyes searched the shadows, his fingers tapping upon his arm as he weighed out his words. What could he say? Honestly, that he was thankful for Viren’s protection of his father, what he did for his family? No, he honestly had no opinion or view on what Viren said he did.

“Is there anything else?”

[ephemaera-a]

@withink​ gets chrissy for eddie bc i have no self control!

When she comes to, it’s like Chrissy is swimming through an ocean of tar. Her lungs burn and her head feels thick with fog–– it stinks, reeks like something dead. Until it doesn’t. Until she’s sitting bolt upright on the floor of Eddie’s trailer, sucking in air like it’s the last chance she’ll ever get. More aptly, it’s the first in a long time, but she doesn’t realize. It’s light out now, and no one seems to be home. Not Eddie, not his uncle. The clock in his room reads about 2:45. School should be ending soon. Maybe he’ll come home. Maybe he’ll tell her that the Special K made her pass out and she was too heavy to lift so he had to just leave her on the floor. That wouldn’t be so bad, would it?

Chrissy can’t understand why, but she has a feeling it’s going to be something much, much worse.

The papers say she’s dead. She doesn’t go home, doesn’t want to–– she has to find Eddie. Even if his picture wasn’t splashed next to hers, he’s the obvious suspect. Showing up at a police station alive would be enough to clear his name, she imagines, but she wants to hear everything from him. It’s clear she didn’t just pass out–– if they’d found her body they would know she was alive. And she’s starting to get flashes. Something light a nightmare, dark, blood-soaked... But even in her memory it feels real.

It takes some doing, but Chrissy tracks down a couple members of the Hellfire Club without being noticed. Half terrified, half relieved, they agree not to call the cops and point her toward Reefer Rick’s. She isn’t proud to find that she feels kind of... free. Suddenly there’s no pressure on her; no expectation to be perfect, no fake smiles and barely held-in tears.

There’s only one thing: finding Eddie, learning what happened. For now, at least, there’s no grades or cheer practice or basketball games. For the first time, Chrissy’s life feels like it’s about her.

Reefer Rick’s house seems empty, but she can hear something skittering around in the boathouse nearby. Chrissy flattens a palm against the door and swings it open.

“...Eddie?”