chapter thirteen of BETTER BY YOU, BETTER THAN ME
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November 1983. Between unpaid bills, the supposedly straight jock he’s seeing, and letters from his convict dad, seventeen year old Eddie Munson’s got enough to worry about. But when Will Byers goes missing, it sparks a chain of events that will show there are more depths to Hawkins — and to certain people in it, like infamous Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington — than he realises.
/ or, the excessively long slow-burn in which Eddie is involved in the Upside Down from the very beginning.
chapter thirteen summary:
“C’mon, Harrington, don’t fucking do that.”
“Do what?”
“Pretend like you don’t–” Eddie feels his voice about to break, a fault line spreading out along his next words, and stops himself before it can. Something masochistic about being here, Steve’s clueless eyes. Steve’s clueless fucking eyes.
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this will only make sense to me but there was probably a period in kido’s life where hearing apologies made him feel worse than anything. something something it was so often said to him by adults who wanted to make things better for him but couldn’t really do anything to “make up for” the absence of his dad and he got so sick of having to assure them that it was fine. it was alright. it’s okay. instead of exploding about it that he developed a Bit of an aversion to hearing sorry from any adult
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fuck it, i have finally reached the point where im jus gonna start rb-ing whatever the fuck catches my eye regardless of the fandom im in rn. i am a crow searching amongst the pebbles, and all the little bits of glass i like will be dropped upon my followers whether they like it or not
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one week left !!!!! u can do ittt 🙌🙌🙌
thank u!!!!!! i’m both so ready to be done with lectures and labs and reports and also grasping them so tightly in my fist like a child, not wanting to let go!!!
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i have my sister visiting this weekend so i likely won't have time to read cmi 10 until monday at the earliest, but i am here as promised to say ilyyyyyyy (and fuck the haters)
don't worry at all omg, please have a lot of fun with your sister!! and then enjoy cmi10 at your own pace!! can't wait for you to read it. ALSO LOL i do adore and love you so much ari jdjdkshdhs thank you so much 🥺🤍
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CHAPTER 3 - page 1/?
original word count: 3840
revised word count: 2195
click for ch 3's full comparison document.
original:
The trampled snow coating the road into our village was speckled with brown and black from passing carts and horses. Elain and Nesta clicked their tongues and grimaced as we made our way along it, dodging the particularly disgusting parts. I knew why they’d come—they’d taken one look at the hides I’d folded into my satchel and grabbed their cloaks.
I didn’t bother talking to them, as they hadn’t deigned to speak to me after last night, though Nesta had awoken at dawn to chop wood. Probably because she knew I’d be selling the hides at the market today and would go home with money in my pocket. They trailed me down the lone road wending through the snow-covered fields, all the way into our ramshackle village.
The stone houses of the village were ordinary and dull, made grimmer by the bleakness of winter. But it was market day, which meant the tiny square in the center of town would be full of whatever vendors had braved the brisk morning.
From a block away, the scent of hot food wafted by—spices that tugged on the edge of my memory, beckoning. Elain let out a low moan behind me. Spices, salt, sugar—rare commodities for most of our village, impossible for us to afford.
revised:
The long road to the village wended between empty fields. Passing carts and horses had trampled the snow, streaking it black. Elain and Nesta grimaced as we skirted a particularly ugly section. After watching me fold the two clean hides into my satchel, they’d grabbed their cloaks. Nesta had awoken at dawn to chop wood, but she’d probably only done it to lord it over me later, when I had money in my pocket.
The stone houses clustered at the village entrance were ordinary and dull, made grimmer by the bleak light. But it was market day, and nothing could tamp down my excitement.
As we neared the tiny central square, the scent of cinnamon and cloves drifted through the air, and Elain let out a moan. Spices, salt, and sugar were rare commodities for most townsfolk but completely unaffordable for us. Depending on how much I sold the pelts for, maybe we could buy some pastries—the village baker usually had a street cart on market days, selling cinnamon twists and sweet buns in brown paper. Just as I thought to suggest it, we turned the corner and nearly ran into a young woman.
“May the Immortal Light shine upon thee, sisters.” Her dark hair was unbound, gleaming in the morning light. She wore pale robes long enough to drag on the snowy ground. The hems looked soaked through and heavy.
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