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imagopirateversion · 6 months ago

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Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales; Why It Shouldn’t Exist

Or how I invested time and energy into an analysis of a relatively dead franchise instead of doing it for my actual media analysis university course.

An essay by: a bitter and obsessed PotC fan since they were 7, with a lot of free time.

Lads, this is going to be long. You have been warned.

The Beginning

At the very beginning of the movie, we see a young Henry Turner looking for his dad.

Now, we're not talking about characterization problems or how likely it is that a ten-year-old child would risk his life to look for a man he technically only saw once; we're talking about plot problems, actual logical fallacies. My questions are:

How? The Flying Dutchman is a legendary ship, impossible to be found unless She wants to be found. The only reason we see Her in Dead Man's Chest is because Davy Jones himself is looking for Jack to collect his debt, and in that occasion the Dutchman's captain wasn't even doing what he was supposed to do, so he was most definitely in the living world. Will otherwise, he's doing the job Calypso gave him, so he's constantly in between. Is the movie trying to convince me that a kid was able to do something no one in the history of piracy was ever able to do? And even if he did, why hasn't anyone explained me how? He simply looks at a map and throws himself on the bottom of the ocean. How did he know The Dutchman was there? How did he know it would've come to surface?

Where is his mom? We got to know Elizabeth in the first three movies; we know she's a smart woman and we can assume she's an attentive mother. She didn't notice her son preparing himself for a trip in the middle of the ocean to go look for his dad? Was she distracted? Was she outsmarted by a 10ish-year-old? Or is she just not contemplated in this scenario?

Why does Will look like that? Will is doing his job, so... why does he look like he's slowly corrupting? That kind of corruption is the punishment Calypso reserves to The Dutchman's crew when the captain fails her, which isn't the case. Did they forget about it? Was the idea of putting algae on Orlando Bloom's face just impossible to resist to?

Alright, this isn't actually from this movie but it's bothering me, so I have to write it; also, it would make this whole movie unnecessary, so it's somehow related to it. Why (and I can't stress this enough) can't Elizabeth be on the Dutchman? Why can't they do the job together? Is it because she's not a pirate? I'm pretty sure se actually is. Is it because she's a woman? Last time I checked she was the KING. She wants to stay with Will forever, Will wants to stay with her forever, they can literally live forever on the same ship. Why aren't they?

Whatever the Hell Happened to Jack Sparrow

Imagine creating a character that is so iconic whenever you ask a person who was a kid in the early 2000 to imagine a pirate, they imagine said character.

Now imagine fourteen years pass and you decide to ruin that character by making him the most hideous, annoying, idiotic person in the whole saga, and we're talking about a saga that has Philip the Missionary in it. Why? Jack Sparrow is THE anti-hero. Never on the right side, but never on the wrong one. You can tell he's doing something morally questionable, but you still find yourself rooting for him. He's stupid enough to make you laugh, but he's secretly clever enough to always get away with it. Now he's just... drunk. And that's not even an excuse for this horrendous new characterization, because he was always drunk. The guy FORGOT HE WAS ROBBING A BANK, the same guy just one movie earlier was able to escape from the King of England's palace and steal a lady's earring (by pretending to be a literal slut) in the process. He just switched from the iconic drunk bi bestie everyone loves to my cringe uncle that drinks too much at Christmas parties and makes everyone uncomfortable. Please, if the risk is ruining an entire generation's beloved character, either don't make the movie or find a better explanation than "Bad luck dogs you day and night".

The Pearl in The Bottle

So... what you're telling me is that Jack Sparrow, the guy who was able to defeat Hector Barbossa, Davy Jones and Blackbeard thanks to his slyness, and who loves his Black Pearl more than anything else in the world, had said ship in a bottle in his pockets for FIVE YEARS... and he never thought about breaking the bottle to free Her. That's what you're telling me. This is the pivotal point upon which the entire Jack's plot hinges. I... I don't even know what to say. Was this supposed to be funny?

What an Incredibly Lucky Coincidence

A guy needs a treasure to save his father. To find it, he needs the help of a notorious and legendary pirate. He looks for him everywhere, sailing on dozens of ships just so he has the remote chance to stumble across the pirate. The last ship he's been on has sinked, he's the only survivor. He's been found in the middle of the ocean and someone brought him to the nearest city. Which city? I mean, the one that has both the pirate he was looking for and a lady who's the only person in the whole planet who's able to find the treasure he was looking for! And, oh my... he finds the both of them! In that same city! Without even LOOKING FOR THEM! A hell of a coincidence, if you ask me. Also known as lazy writing.

What's Wrong With the Guards?

Now, I know Pirates of the Caribbean isn't exactly known for its accurate historical reconstructions, but why are the guards in this movie acting like they're some sort of hellhounds ready to kill anyone in sight? Even pirates and traitors as Jack and Henry were supposed to stand trial before being sentenced to death. It would've probably been an unjust and barbaric trial, but there should've been one. We literally saw it, in the previous movie. Why's Jack been sentenced to death for simply existing here? He gave pirate vibes and they decided that was enough?

Paul McCartney

This is not an actual point of the analysis, I just wanted to remind people that Paul McCartney is in this movie and that's the only valid reason to watch it.

Salazar

I am confused. Once again, I have questions.

El Matador Del Mar was so good at his job he had almost defeated piracy. "The last ones joined together to try and defeat me". The last what? Pirates? There were no pirates left? This happened when Jack was young, so a lot of time before the first movie, right? Where were, I don't know... Blackbeard? Davy Jones? Barbossa? All the other Pirate Lords? I might be wrong, but I guess Salazar didn't kill them, did he? Why weren't they there during that "last battle" in which "the last ones joined together"?

The Devil's Triangle. I just don't understand what's the logic behind it. So, this is a cursed place. Whoever enters there, can't get out. One would think it means that if you get there, you die; and Salazar does die, but he somehow also becomes a ghost whose only purpose is to find Jack Sparrow and have his revenge. So, do people become ghosts when they get in The Devil's Triangle? We have to assume people have gotten stuck in there before; otherwise, there wouldn't be legends around the place. So why isn't it like full of spirits ready to haunt people? Why are Salazar and his crew the only ones?

Poseidon or Calypso?

What's the Trident of Poseidon? Does Poseidon exist? Isn't Calypso the Goddess of the sea? Breaking the Trident, you break all the curses of the sea, so the Trident must be more powerful than Calypso, which leads to a question. Where is she? She IS the sea, right? So she must have known someone was about to find the Trident and brake all curses, including her one. She just decided it was okay? It really feels like someone decided to suddenly change the world's mythology without giving explanations.

The Compass

This is possibly the most blatant plot hole in the whole saga. Probably the most blatant plot hole I've ever witnessed, and man, I watched all the Harry Potter movies. In Dead Man's Chest, Jack meets Tia Dalma in her "shop" and he tells her he's looking for the Davy Jones' key. She asks him "The compass you bartered from me, it cannot lead you to this?", making another pivotal point of Dead Men Tell No Tales factually senseless.

That man couldn't have given his compass to Jack, because that wasn't his compass.

So either Salazar is lying while telling his tale or they forgot about that line in the second movie. Anyway, let's pretend that line doesn't exist; even if that captain gave Jack his compass in that exact moment, why would it be the key to free Salazar, exactly? How is the compass in any way related to The Devil's Triangle or to Salazar? In the movie, they try to explain it with a sentence: “if you betray it, your greatest fear comes true”. So, is Salazar Jack's greatest fear? I really doesn't seem right, Jack almost didn't remember Salazar when Henry mentioned him. To Jack, he's only a guy he outsmarted decades earlier. Also, Jack technically already gave the compass away, twice: to Elizabeth in Dead Man's Chest, to make her find the chest, and to Beckett in At World's End, when they're negotiating.

That's... That's Just Body Shaming, Mate

Let's talk about her. So, the woman's ugly. It can happen that a woman is ugly. Was it necessary to build an entire scene around some blatant body shaming? This scene wants to mimic the similar scene in Dead Man's Chest: Jack's on an island, running from the main villain, and he's forced to do things he doesn't want to do until someone saves him, then it was Will, now it's Hector.

Except in Dead Man's Chest it was LITERAL CANNIBALISM he was facing, and yet he looked LESS TERRIFIED and DISGUSTED. What's exactly the message here? Lads, is marrying an ugly woman worse than cannibalism? I don't know... that was just bad.

Justice for Hector Barbossa

If you know me (you probably don't, but if you do) then you know about my obsession with Hector Barbossa. I truly believe he's the best written character in the saga, and he's in my top five of the characters I love the most in all media. I watched The Curse of the Black Pearl when I was seven and I am autistic, so I had all the time to develop a literal relationship with these characters in my head. As much as Geoffrey Rush's interpretation was impeccable, as always, it really hurt to watch Hector in this movie. He just doesn't sound like him. First of all, why isn't he on the Queen Anne's Revenge? Why's he letting someone else sail around on his ships? He would've never. Why's he just sitting on a throne and shooting musicians instead of, I don't know... being a pirate? Being a pirate is the only thing that matters to him. He says it at the end of On Stranger Tides, and he even says it in this movie, to the witch. "I'm a pirate. Always will be".

So, why isn't he pirating? What happened to him? And what about the pact with the witch? He made her curse all his enemies; that's honestly the most out-of-character thing he could've done.

Seriously, watch this movie, and then The Curse of the Black Pearl and tell me he sounds like he's the same character. Then there’s his death... was it necessary? And I don't mean if it was necessary to the plot (it wasn't), but the way he died, did it make sense? He takes the sword and sacrifices himself to kill Salazar, but WHY? Salazar was back a mortal. They could've brought him to surface and then shoot him. What was the point of his death, Disney? I will never forgive you.

I would've preferred if they never showed him again. He's alive and living his best life in Tortuga, if you ask me.

How does Carina Smyth exist?

Let's do the maths. Carina Smyth has approximately the same age as Henry Turner, who was born around nine moths after the end of At World's End. At the end of that movie, Barbossa once again stole the Black Pearl (he's iconic we stan a legend), so we have to assume it is during that time (between the At World's End and On Stranger Tides) that he conceives Carina. He stays with this woman during the whole pregnancy, bacause he says he was there when she died. So nine months, at least, right? Except; Jack makes it clear that he and Barbossa met Carina's mom, Margaret, together.

When, exactly, did this happen? It can't be between On Stranger Tides and Dead Men Tell No Tales, because Hector himself says only five years passed between the two, and Carina doesn't look like a five-year-old;

it can't be between At World's End and On Stranger Tides, because we know Jack and Barbossa weren't together, and Hector was too busy losing a leg and planning his revenge by working for the King of England; it can't be during At World's End, because Barbossa was too busy rescuing Jack and then slaying (literally and metaphorically) Beckett's men to save piracy; it can't be during Dead Man's Chest, because he was dead; it can't be during The Curse of the Black Pearl, nor during the ten years before it, because he was... he was a skeleton, I hardly believe he could reproduce, despite what’s written in some fanficions; it can't be before, of course, because Carina would be too old. The only chance, but it's a stretch, is that Hector and Jack met this Margaret Smyth years and years before, and that at a certain point (while he was still busy slaying, losing a leg or planning his revenge), for some reason he decided to come back to her and accidentally had a daughter. That would mean that Jack remembered Margaret Smyth's name DECADES after he met her.

The Post-Credit Scene: What?

WHY'S DAVY JONES BACK? The Trident technically broke all the curses of the sea. He is THE cursed man of the sea. AND HE'S DEAD. The only answer I was able to give me, is that the moment the Trident broke the curses, the curse that said if you stab his heart he dies was also broken, so he technically didn't die, but it makes even less sense, because if the curses just aren't real anymore, then a man shouldn't be able to... carve out his heart and put it in a chest, right? (Which by the way, makes Will Turner being alive senseless as well). Even if so, Davy should've come back as a human.

My conclusion is that this movie should not exist, and we, as a community, should pretend it was never made. Hector is alive. Bye.

Imago

#potc #pirates of the caribbean #potc analysis #dead men tell no tales #analysis #media analysis #pirates #jack sparrow #hector barbossa #carina smyth #henry turner #elizabeth swann #will turner #calypso #davy jones #salazar

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mariacallous · 3 months ago

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Glad people are finally finding out that these Pro Palestine protestors are ratfuckers-by-design at best (and Republicans at worst) and that's why they support Trump:

https://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2024/08/dnc-palestinian-gaza-protests/679524/

One month ago, an NBC News headline reported:

Protesters made a tiny footprint at the RNC in Milwaukee. Other than a modest daytime march on Monday afternoon, the first day of the Republican National Convention, there were virtually no protests over the event’s four days and nights.

Obviously, the story from the Democratic National Convention in Chicago is already proving different.

This is part of a pattern. Gather any large number of Democrats together, in almost any city or state, whether at rallies, fundraisers, or presidential appearances, and pro-Palestinian protesters will try to wreck the event. These actions have been building to threats of outright violence. Pro-Trump and Republican events, meanwhile, are almost always left in peace.

Of the two big parties, the Democrats are more emotionally sympathetic to Palestinian suffering. The Biden administration is working to negotiate the cease-fire that the pro-Palestinian camp claims to want. The administration has provided hundreds of millions of dollars of humanitarian assistance to Palestinians in Gaza. President Joe Biden’s terms for ending the fighting in Gaza envision a rapid movement to full Palestinian statehood.

By contrast, former President Donald Trump uses Palestinian as an insult. His administration moved the U.S. embassy in Israel to Jerusalem, and recognized Israel’s annexation of the Golan Heights. In 2016, Trump campaigned on a complete shutdown of travel by Muslims into the United States; Trump now speaks of deporting campus anti-Israel protesters. He has pledged to block Gaza refugees from entering the United States.

Trump wants to tell the story that he and his party will enforce public order. He alleges that Democrats cannot or will not protect Americans against chaos spread by extremist elements. The pro-Palestinian movement works every day to create images that support Trump’s argument. As a visibly annoyed Vice President Kamala Harris asked protesters in Detroit earlier this month: Do they want to elect Donald Trump?

Not all pro-Palestinian demonstrators are thinking about the election. Many seem driven by moral outrage or ideological passion. But for those who are thinking strategically, the answer is obvious: Yes, they want to elect Trump. Of course they want to elect Trump. Electing Trump is their best—and maybe only—hope.

To understand why, cast your mind back a quarter century.

In the election of 2000, Vice President Al Gore faced Texas Governor George W. Bush. Gore probably would have won in a straight two-way contest. But that same year, the progressive advocate Ralph Nader entered the race as a third-party challenger—and he pulled just enough of the vote to tip the Electoral College and the presidency toward Bush.

Nader later professed regret for running as a third-party candidate. But at the time, Nader understood exactly what he was doing. Defeating Gore and electing Bush was the intended and declared purpose of Nader’s candidacy. Nader detailed his logic in many speeches, including this one to the summer-2000 convention of the NAACP:

If you ever wondered why the right wing and the corporate wing of the Democratic Party has so much more power over that party than the progressive wing, it’s because the right wing and the corporate wing have somewhere to go: It’s called the Republican Party. And so they’re catered to and they’re regaled—like the Democratic Leadership Council, they’re catered to and they’re regaled. But if you look at the progressive wing … they have nowhere to go. And you know when you’re told that you have nowhere to go, you get taken for granted. And when you get taken for granted, you get taken.

To paraphrase his argument even more bluntly: If progressives caused the Democrats to lose the presidency in the election of 2000, then Democrats would take progressives more seriously in all the elections that followed.

Nader’s logic was not altogether wrong. In many ways, the post-2000 Democratic Party has shifted well to the left of where the party was in the 1980s and ’90s. But catering to the party’s left has cost Democrats winnable races, and with them, key priorities: The Iraq War and 20 years of inaction on climate change head the list of progressive disappointments since the 2000 election, and the list extends from there. Whether or not the shift was worth the price, Nader was neither ignorant nor deceived. He identified his goal and willingly accepted the risks for himself and his movement.

So it is now with the pro-Palestinian demonstrators of 2024.

They start with a fundamental political problem: Their cause is not popular. Solid majorities of Americans accept Israel’s war in Gaza as valid and fiercely condemn the Hamas terrorist attacks as unacceptable. The exact margin varies from poll to poll depending on how the question is asked, but when presented with a binary choice between Israel and the Palestinians, Americans prefer Israel by a factor of at least two to one.

The brute fact of those numbers makes it very difficult for pro-Palestinian activists to win elections. In this cycle, despite all the emotion stirred by the Gaza war, two of Israel’s fiercest critics in Congress lost their primaries to pro-Israel challengers.

From the point of view of any practical politician: If a cause is so unpopular that it cannot help its friends, why listen to its advocates?

The only answer to that question, again from the practical point of view, is the message of the protesters in Chicago: Maybe we can’t help you if you do listen to us, but we can hurt you if you don’t!

Think of it another way. Since the bloody attack by Hamas on October 7 and the Israeli response, pro-Palestinian protesters have marched and agitated all over the United States. They have occupied college campuses. They have impeded access to Jewish schools, businesses, and places of worship. They have posted impassioned words and images on social media.

Yet all of their militant action has barely budged U.S. policy. Arms, intelligence, and economic assistance continue to flow from the United States to Israel. U.S. military forces cooperate with Israel against Iranian proxies in Lebanon and Yemen. Although the U.S. has imposed restraint on some Israeli operations, Israel has mostly been allowed to fight its own war in its own way.

These were President Biden’s decisions, not Vice President Harris’s. But she was the second-highest-ranking member of the administration. If Biden’s deputy inherits Biden’s office, the message is clear: His administration’s record of support for Israel carried no meaningful political price. All of those street demonstrations and campus occupations will have amounted to so much empty noise. All of those articles arguing that Gaza explained Biden’s troubles with young voters would be exposed as ideological wishcasting.

If Harris wins, the pro-Palestinian movement will have lost.

If Harris loses, however, pro-Palestinian protesters can claim that they were responsible for her defeat. That claim might not be true—in fact it probably would not be true—but try disproving it. The pro-Palestinian movement would have at least some basis to argue: You lost because you alienated us.

If Harris wins, she may want to do something about the pro-Palestinian cause—for humanitarian reasons, for reasons of diplomacy and geopolitics, for reasons of Democratic-constituency management in particular congressional districts. But she won’t have to do it. She’ll know that the protesters tried to beat her, and they failed.

If Harris loses, however, future Democratic candidates will tread more carefully on Israeli-Palestinian terrain. Even if they privately doubt that the party’s position on Gaza explains anything truly important, they will be worried by advisers and donors who will believe it or who will want to believe it.

But what about Trump? Why aren’t the pro-Palestinian demonstrators in Chicago more fearful of Trump’s possible return to the presidency?

Although the pro-Palestine cause attracts support from progressives, it is not exactly a progressive cause. Americans associate progressivism with secularism, feminism, and gay-rights advocacy, among other causes. The Palestinian national movement, especially now that Hamas has effectively replaced the Palestine Liberation Organization as leader of “the resistance,” has become markedly religious, patriarchal, and socially reactionary. But it is also a movement fiercely opposed to American global hegemony—and that is its “anti-imperialist” appeal to Western progressives.

If you oppose American global hegemony, Trump is your candidate (as a long list of anti-American dictators have already figured out). Trump fiercely opposes the alliances and trade agreements that magnify American power and make the U.S. the center of a huge network of democratic, market-oriented countries. Trump’s “America First” bluster is actually a pathway to American isolation and weakness that will further remove American power from the world.

If you wish America ill, of course you wish Trump well. The far left and far right of U.S. politics may disagree on much, but they agree on that.

The protesters in the streets of Chicago are not acting aimlessly or randomly. The people on the receiving end of their protests would benefit from equal clarity. The protesters want chaos and even violence in order to defeat Harris and elect Trump. They are not ill-informed or excessively idealistic or sadly misled. They are not overzealous allies. They are purposeful adversaries.

The Chicago-convention delegates should recognize that truth, and act accordingly.

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anjee0 · 21 days ago

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Old friends

Female!reader x 2000's Eminem. (Feel free to put in your own oc insert as well)

Description - Y/n decides to have a little get together at her house where she gets to spark interests again with her old friend that she hasn't seen since high school.

Warnings - Explicit language, drinking, vomiting, pill or tablet taking

Requested by @heyitstial

Y/n adjusted the plant pot on the coffee table for the 100th time making sure it looked “perfect”. One of her good friends Dre was coming over with a friend of his and she wanted to make sure that her apartment was spick and span. Dre hadn't told Y/n who his friend was and whenever she asked he'd just respond with: “It's a surprise!”

Y/n sat on the sofa and patiently waited for Dre and his friend to show up. Moments later, the doorbell rang as its playful tune rippled throughout the house. Y/n immediately got up and dusted her jeans off before opening the door.

She was immediately met by Dre smiling at her widely with his arms stretched for a hug. Y/n hugged him as he felt his arms around her waist, engulfing her in a warm hug.

When Y/n pulled away she couldn't help but smile. “I've missed you. I haven't seen you in ages.” She said gleefully.

“For real. And speaking of people you haven't seen in ages…” Dre stepped to the side to reveal the Marshall Mathers standing right by Y/n's door.

“Holy crap! Marshall!” Y/n exclaimed as she hugged her old friend.

Her and Marshall were best friends with each other back in high school. They were inseparable and literally attached to the hip. After Marshall had dropped out of high school, they stopped seeing each as often. Then eventually along the way, they lost communication completely and hadn't heard from each other in a few years.

Marshall looked completely different from what Y/n could remember of him. His fluffy brown hair had been replaced with a bleached buzz cut and his teeth looked less crooked. He had small hoop earrings and definitely developed more muscles as well. He looked somewhat… cute.

“How do you guys know each other?” Y/n asked.

“I'm helping Marshall out with his new album. And while we were in the studio the other week, I told him how I was gonna visit you. He said you sounded familiar so I showed him that picture of us when we went to New York and he recognised you. So I decided to surprise you.” Dre replied.

“Wow, that is amazing.” Y/n said.

“Small world, huh?” Marshall said.

“Well, come in, come in.” Y/n said, stepping aside so they had space go inside.

Dre and Marshall stepped in and took off their shoes as they looked around at the living room. They observed in awe at how beautiful and well organised the place looked.

“Damn girl. This is great. How'd you get this?” Dre asked.

“Saved up enough money.” Y/n responded. “Uh, sit down.” She chuckled awkwardly. She wasn't really used to guests coming over to her house.

Dre and Marshall sat down on the sofa opposite to the seat Y/n was sitting in. They made themselves comfortable and leaned into the softness of the cosy sofa.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” Y/n asked.

“Hey, uh. Do you ever have people over here?” Dre asked, forgetting Y/n's question.

“Oh, uh no. You guys are actually my first guests here.” Y/n responded.

“Hey how about we invite a friend over and you invite a few of your friends over and we have a small get together? This seems like the perfect place for it.”

Y/n really wanted to say no, she wasn't the biggest party person out there. With work always being her top priority, she never really had time to sit down and relax or to go out with her friends. But being the people pleaser she was, she agreed. At least she'd have some of her friends over too.

“Who are you gonna get?” Marshall asked.

“I'll call Proof. I'll tell him to get drinks as well.” Dre responded. He looked over to Y/n. “Do you have a telephone?” He asked.

Pointed over to a small rounded table where a red telephone was placed. “Right over there.”

Dre thanked her before going over to call Proof. In the meantime, Y/n tried to make conversation with her old friend.

“So, how have you been?” Y/n asked.

“I'm good. I've got a kid now.” Marshall replied.

“Oh, that's amazing.”

“Yeah.. her name's Hailie. She's 4 right now.”

“I bet she's adorable.”

“Oh yeah, she is the best thing that's ever happened to me.”

“Is the mother in the picture?” As soon as those words left Y/n's mouth she wished she could take it back. Sure, her and Marshall were great friends but she hadn't seen him ages, she didn't have to pry around in his business. “Sorry, that was a personal question. I shouldn't have asked that.”

“Hey, don't sweat it. It's you asking so I don't mind. But uh, yeah. The mother’s Kim.” Marshall replied.

“Kim? Like Kim from high school?”

“Yeah. We're… married now.”

“Oh…”

“You sound surprised.”

“Well, you guys were pretty on and off in high school.”

“Yeah, no I get that. Actually, Kim found out she was pregnant a few weeks after we broke up. We got married as soon as we could.”

“Oh, right.”

“Yeah, but uh, it's not the best marriage. We're always arguing and fighting over dumb shit. We've resorted to an open relationship now.”

“What do you mean by open relationship?”

“Well, we're both allowing each other to date other people since we don't really have feelings for each other anymore. At this point, we're just staying together for Hailie.”

“Oh, I think I get it. So are you dating anyone?”

“Nope. Sort of wanna focus on my new album.”

“Oh yeah. How's that coming along?”

“I think it's going great.”

“I'd love to listen to it once it's released.”

“I'll send you a copy.” He chuckled.

“I like the new look by the way.” Y/n smirked as she looked at his bright bleached hair.

“Oh yeah. Thanks. It's for my persona, Slim Shady.”

“Alright, I called Proof. He's coming over with drinks. Y/n, you wanna call your friends?” Dre asked as he hung up the phone.

“Yeah, sure.”

As Dre went to sit back down, Marshall, Y/n got up to call her friends. She picked up the phone and dialled her friend, Mikayla's number. It rang for a few seconds before she picked up.

“Hi there, Mikayla speaking!” She greeted Y/n in her usual cheery tone.

Y/n smiled hearing her friend’s happy voice. “Hey girl, it's me Y/n.”

“Hey, what's up?”

“So I'm having a little get together with a few friends. Wanna come over?”

“Ooh, who's there?”

“A few guys.”

“Are they cute?”

“Yeah.”

“Fun! I'll dress extra well. What are you wearing?”

“Just a pair of jeans and a top.” Y/n replied as she looked down at her casual outfit.

“You're wearing that?”

“Yeah I know. Should I change?”

“Yes! Wear something sexy.”

Y/n could just feel Mikayla's wide smirk through the phone. “Yeah, but I don't know what to wear though.”

“Hey, how about that denim mini skirt I got you for your birthday and that cute tank top that you got from that Christmas sale?”

“That's great! I will wear that. Thank you.”

“Well, I am the fashionista friend.”

Y/n chuckled at her friend's joke. “Oh, and while I get ready, can you call Abi and let her know too?”

“Of course. I'll see you then. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Y/n hung up the phone and turned to Dre and Marshall. “Two of my friends are coming over. I'm just gonna quickly change.”

Dre and Marshall nodded as you entered your room and locked the door to get changed. In addition to the mini skirt and tank top, she wore a black push up bra too. The tank top was a bit see through but that didn't mind her. Y/n took one last look at herself in the mirror before coming out of her room.

“Looking good, Y/n.” Dre said.

“Thank you. I'm just gonna clean up the kitchen really quickly.”

What she didn't realise was Marshall absolutely stunned at how beautiful she looked. He found her cute back in high school and couldn't help but notice how much more pretty she looked since all those years ago. The new pair of clothes she was wearing fit her perfectly well. The mini skirt made her legs look elegant and the bra highlighted her breasts perfectly. And to top it off, the tank top she was wearing bought the whole look together to make it all the better.

As soon as she stepped foot in the kitchen and closed the door, Dre immediately turned to Marshall.

“You like her, don't you?” Dre asked with a dumb smile on his face.

“As a friend? Yeah.” Marshall replied.

Dre slapped the back of his head and tsked. “Man, not like that. You're into her.”

“No I'm not, we're just friends.”

“Really, cause you were taking a good long look at her. As your face is red as a tomato.”

“It's just hot in here.”

“Man, stop playing with me.”

A few seconds later, the doorbell rang and Y/n immediately left the kitchen to open it. She was met by her friends Mikayla and Abi who immediately engulfed her in a friendly hug.

“You look cute!” Abi said.

“So do you!” Y/n replied. “You look cute too Mikayla, come in.”

Mikayla and Abi stepped in and immediately jumped onto the empty sofa. They came over often so they treated the place like their second home.

“Hey there, girls. Y’all look great.” Dre said.

“Say, you look awfully familiar.” Mikayla said.

“Well, I am Dr. Dre.”

“You are?” Abi exclaimed.

“The one and only.” He replied with a smile.

“Is he lying?” Mikayla asked Y/n.

“Not at all.” She replied.

“You never bothered to tell us?” Abi said.

“Yeah, we I didn't think you'd believe me.” Y/n said, sitting with her friends on the sofa.

“Dude, my little brother, Mike, is so obsessed with you.” Mikayla said.

“Oh really? Should I autograph something for him?” Dre asked.

“He wouldn't believe me even if I had an autograph.”

“I have a polaroid camera. I can take a picture of you both and Dre can sign it.” Y/n offered.

“That sounds great.” Dre said.

Y/n went to get her polaroid camera from her room and swiftly came back. Marshall got off the sofa to let Mikayla sit down next to Dre. He sat down next to Y/n as their shoulders slowly brushed.

Y/n bought the camera up to her eye, her finger hovering over the capture button.

“Alright, ready?”

“Ready!” Dre and Mikayla and Abi said I'm unison.

Y/n hit the capture button as a bright flash came from the camera followed by shutter sound. And at that same moment, Proof burst into the house with 3 six packs of beer.

“What's on you guys!” He cheered as he held the pack up and stuck his tongue out.

Marshall chuckled at Proof's energetic greeting.

“Man, what took you so long?” Dre asked.

“Cashier lady was being a bitch. She thought my ID was fake.” Proof said as he sat down next to Dre. “What's up, Marsh?” Proof asked as he dabbed him up.

The polaroid developed and Y/n chuckled at it. Dre and Mikayla were smiling on the couch and in the background was Proof holding up the 6 packs with an energetic expression on his face. She handed it over to Dre and Mikayla who laughed at the sight of it.

“I'll sign my name right over your face.” Dre said teasingly at Proof.

“Man, fuck you.” Proof chuckled.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Dre said. “I bought a cassette with the tracks Marshall's done so far for his album.” Dre reached out in the pocket of his hoodie and pulled a cassette out.

“Why did you bring that?” Marshall asked as he tried to snatch it off.

“What? Let them listen, I think it's great man and you know it too. You got a cassette radio?” He asked Y/n.

“Yup.” Y/n reached under the TV stand where a cassette radio was. She took it out and placed it on the coffee table.

Dre put the cassette in and hit play. A few moments later, the first track started playing. It started off with a catchy beat followed by Marshall's voice. His voice easily flowed through the beat and his lyrics felt immaculate. Marshall groaned as he sat back on the sofa.

“I think it's pretty good.” Y/n said as she turned her head to look at Marshall.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“I'm being serious, Marsh.” She playfully pushed his knee.

Marshall jokingly flipped her off to which she happily returned the favour as old high school memories started flooding back to her.

As the music played through the background, everyone introduced each other and talked for a while. Proof eventually opened one of the 6 packs and passed everyone a beer.

“What is this?” Abi asked as she inspected the can.

“Beer, duh. Drink up!” Proof responded.

“I very much prefer Y/n's blue cocktail.” Abi said as she leaned her head on her friend's shoulder.

“It's Y/n's best cocktail. She works at a bar.” Mikayla said.

“What bar you work at?” Proof asked.

“Pink Pristine.” Y/n responded.

“Holy shit, you work at Pink Pristine?” Marshall said as he sat up.

“Yeah, I've been there for a while.”

“Ain't that the bar where all the rich people go?” Proof asked.

“Yeah, that's the one.”

“No wonder you got such a nice house.” Marshall aside.

“We love Y/n's blue cocktail. She always makes it for us.” Mikayla said.

“Blue cocktail?” Dre asked.

“I haven't found a good name for it.”

“Can you please make us some?” Abi asked. She looked up at Y/n with a pouty expression and wide eyes.

“I don't have all the ingredients for it, sorry.” Y/n said.

Mikayla and Abi both groaned in disappointment.

“Alright then, drink up!” Proof said.

Everyone cracked open their beer bottles and said cheers before drinking up. Y/n wasn't the biggest fan of beer; the bitter taste made her throat dry and left a terrible scent in her mouth.

“Anyone wanna try chugging the beer against me?” Proof asked.

“What?” Abi said in confusion.

“Me and another person both chug their beers and see who lasts the longest without stopping.” He explained. “Anyone up? Marshall?” Proof looked at him with a sly expression.

“Nah, man. I threw up like crazy last time.” Marshall said.

Proof looked around at everyone else, hoping for an answer. But he was only met with a thick silence. He was about to give up until Y/n spoke up.

“I'll do it.” She said, feeling determined.

“Alright then! Let's go! First to chug 3 wins.”

“Are you sure?” Mikayla said.

“I'll be fine.” Y/n responded.

Proof and Y/n both got ready to chug down their beers as Dre started the countdown. He did it slowly, which built up a lot of tension and a suspenseful manner.

“3, 2, 1… Go!” Dre said.

Y/n immediately started chugging down her drink as fast as she could. The bitter taste of the alcohol made her throat dry. However, she still continued to chug the drink down like it was nothing. She could hear everyone else cheering and whooping for them, encouraging them to go faster.

Y/n and Proof had finished their first can at around the same time and they were already onto the next one. She chugged that one down, already feeling the struggle to keep up. Proof was easily chugging it down like it was water meanwhile Y/n was scrunching her nose up at the scent.

When it got to the third can, Y/n could feel some of the beer trickling down her chin and down her neck. She decided she couldn't take it anymore and that she'd let Proof take the win. Y/n took the half empty cab off her lips, finally giving up, only for her to accidentally spill the rest of the beer onto her shirt and skirt.

The loud and supportive cheering was replaced by gasps. The beer had only made her shirt more see through, revealing her bra underneath more. She quickly got up to go change as her friends followed behind her.

“Yo, are you okay?” Proof asked.

“I'm fine!” Y/n called back before entering her bedroom.

“Did you guys see Marshall's face?” Mikayla asked quietly as soon as Y/n shut the door.

“No, why?” Y/n responded.

“He went all red and couldn't take his eyes off you.” Mikayla explained.

“He likes you!” Abi exclaimed.

“He doesn't. We're just old friends.” Y/n said.

“Old friends?” Mikayla asked.

“Yeah, we were best friends in high school.”

“Did you guys ever date?” Abi asked.

“No.. but we kissed once.”

“You did?!” Abi and Mikayla exclaimed at the same time.

“Shhh! But yes, we did. It was once. Then we never talked about it.”

Y/n changed her shirt and bra out for something more comfortable. She decided to wear a sports bra and an old baggy shirt on top.

When they came out of the room, Y/n could sense some sort of tension in the living room. Marshall's face was blushing red as a a tomato. He looked more embarrassed than flustered.

“Everything okay?” Y/n asked as she placed her hand on Marshall's shoulder.

“Yeah everything's fine.” He replied.

“Hey should I order pizza?” Y/n asked.

“Oh, yeah that's good. Let's do that.” Dre said.

Y/n called the pizza place nearby and placed an order for a large pepperoni pizza and for a large meat feast pizza too.

“Are we even gonna finish all of this?” Y/n asked as she sat back down.

“Hey, me, Dre and Marshall can easily have a whole pizza for ourselves.” Proof reassured jokingly.

A few minutes passed and the pizza arrived. Everyone was starting so they were pumped to get their hands on a slice. They all reached in and took a bite, feeling at ease.

Y/n could feel her stomach churn as she ate the pizza. Perhaps pizza and 2 and half cans of beer weren't the best combination to have. She started to feel queasy so she decided to have a glass of water. Y/n could feel that uncomfortable feeling in her stomach slowly drifting away from her as she finished the water.

As minutes passed, everyone decided to sit on the couch and talk with each other for a while as music radio played. As the previous song faded, a new one started to play. It started off with a snappy beat and then followed by a female voice. It was the type of music you'd hear at a club or at a bar.

“Ooh! I love this song.” Abi said, smiling widely.

“I like this song too. Care to dance?” Proof asked smoothly as he offered his hand.

Abi instantly put her hand in his as the both stood up to dance. They both put their hands on each other and held each other close as they swayed to the music.

“Guys, join in!” Abi said.

“Yeah, get your asses off the couch.” Proof chimed in.

Dre and Mikayla gave each other a look before shrugging at each other and going off to dance. Y/n looked at Marshall with a sly smile.

“Care to dance?” She asked.

“Why not?” Marshall said.

They both got up to dance along with the others too. Marshall placed his hand on Y/n's waist as she placed her ls on the sides of his neck. They pulled each other closer and swayed to the music. Their foreheads touched as the tip of their noses came to contact too.

Y/n felt the space around her getting hot and stuffy. Her cheeks came to a bright pink colour from the heat as she felt beads of sweat trickling down the back of her neck.

“Hey, you okay there?” Marshall asked.

“Just a bit hot.” Y/n replied.

“Do you wanna step outside?”

“Yes please.”

With that decision, they went out to the back garden where they stood on the wood porch. The sky was dark and looked majestic with the twinkling stars and bright moon staring down on them.

“You know what this reminds me of?” Marshall asked.

“What?” Y/n asked curiously.

“When we snuck into that disco that the school was hosting cause we had to pay to go.”

Y/n gasped slightly as the memory started flooding back to her mind. “I remember! We danced for a bit, we got caught and stole snacks.”

“Yes!” Marshall chuckled. “And then we just kinda sat outside and watched the moon. And then we were talking and then…”

“We kissed.” Y/n said softly as she watched the grass rustle in the gentle wind.

“Yeah…”

“That was my first kiss actually.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Not at all.”

They both looked at each other for a moment before leaning in slightly. But in that moment, Y/n felt her stomach getting queasy again as it tied up in twists and turns. She could feel a weird itchy feeling coming from her throat.

Shit.

She covered her mouth and turned around, vomiting into the nearest plant pot. Well, there goes her aloe vera. Marshall immediately held her hair up and stroked her back gently. His touch was calming and made her feel more at ease.

“Hey, if you don't feel well, I'll tell everyone to go home okay?” Marshall said.

“Okay, could you do that please?” Y/n replied.

Marshall quickly informed everyone about Y/n to which they were immediately concerned, especially Mikayla and Abi.

“Is she okay?” Abi asked.

“We wanna see her.” Mikayla said.

“She's fine but she needs space. It's best if everyone leaves.” Marshall stated.

“You coming with us?” Dre asked.

“I'll stay here to help her clean up. I can call a cab afterwards. I'll be fine.” Marshall insisted.

“Alright, man. Call me when you get home.” Proof said.

And with that, everyone but Marshall left. He took her to the bathroom so she could clean herself up while he cleaned up. He threw away all the empty beer cans and put the leftover pizza in some tupperware to leave in the fridge. He then hoovered and disposed of the aloe vera plant.

“Thank you, Marshall.” Y/n said as she stood by the doorpost on the living room door.

“Yeah, of course. I'm gonna get a cab and leave. Goodnight.”

“Wait.”

“Yeah?”

“It's 2 am. You can stay over, I think that's best.”

“No, it's fine. Don't worry. I don't wanna bother you.”

“You won't bother me Marshall. You're my friend. I have a guest bedroom. Feel free to stay there. I'll quickly clean it.”

“Hey, don't bother. It's fine.”

“Please…”

“Okay, I'll stay, but you don't have to clean the room. I just need to call Proof quickly and let him know.”

Y/n nodded and bid him goodnight before going over to her bedroom to take a fully deserved sleep. After Marshall informed Proof, he also went to sleep on the guest bed and slowly drifted to a slumber.

In the middle of the night, Y/n woke up with the sudden urge to have a glass of water. Her mouth felt dry and she needed to quench her thirst. She laid in bed for a minute before finally getting up. She'd probably had to take a tablet too for her killer headache she was just starting to deal with.

She noticed that the light in the kitchen was on, Marshall was probably in there. When she opened the door, she was met with Marshall turning on the tap and getting himself some water.

“Hey.” Y/n said gently, not wanting to startle him.

“Oh hey.” He replied as looked up at her with a soft smile. “Also craving some water?”

“Yup. And something for my killer headache.”

She rummaged through her cupboards and found ibuprofen. She took some cold water, immediately satisfying the dry feeling in her mouth.

“Listen, about earlier outside. I'm sorry-” Y/n started.

“Don't be sorry.”

Before she could say anything else, he sealed her lips with a gentle kiss. The gentleness of kiss soon became replaced with the feeling of desire and having to fulfil a desperate need.

“Do you wanna sleep with me tonight?” Y/n offered.

“Sure.”

Moments later, Y/n found herself laying head against Marshall's chest and playing with the fabric of his shirt on her bed.

“I'm sorry for losing contact with you over the years.” Y/n apologised.

“It's my fault too.” Marshall insisted.

“Why don't we try giving this a chance?”

“I like the sound of that.”

Marshall kissed her head before they both fell asleep in each other's embrace.

#eminem #eminem x reader #marshall mathers #marshall mathers x reader #slim shady #slim shady x reader #8 mile #b rabbit #b rabbit x reader #jimmy smith jr #jimmy smith jr x reader

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tomorrowusa · 10 months ago

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Don't risk a rerun of the 2000 election.

In the first presidential election of the 21st century many deluded progressives voted for Green Party candidate Ralph Nader.

Their foolishness gave us eight years of George W. Bush who plagued the country with two recessions (including the Great Recession) and two wars (one totally unnecessary and one which could have been avoided if he heeded an intelligence brief 5 weeks before 9/11).

Oh yeah, Dubya also appointed one conservative and one batshit crazy reactionary to the US Supreme Court. Roberts and Alito are still there.

Paul Waldman of the Washington Post offers some thoughts.

Why leftists should work their hearts out for Biden in 2024

Ask a Democrat with a long memory what the numbers 97,488 and 537 represent, and their face will twist into a grimace. The first is the number of votes Ralph Nader received in Florida in 2000 as the nominee of the Green Party; the second is the margin by which George W. Bush was eventually certified the winner of the state, handing him the White House. Now, with President Biden gearing up for reelection, talk of a spoiler candidate from the left is again in the air. That’s unfortunate, because here’s the truth: The past 2½ years under Biden have been a triumph for progressivism, even if it’s not in most people’s interest to admit it. This was not what most people expected from Biden, who ran as a relative moderate in the 2020 Democratic primary. His nomination was a victory for pragmatism with its eyes directed toward the center. But today, no one can honestly deny that Biden is the most progressive president since at least Lyndon B. Johnson. His judicial appointments are more diverse than those of any of his predecessors. He has directed more resources to combating climate change than any other president. Notwithstanding the opposition from the Supreme Court, his administration has moved aggressively to forgive and restructure student loans.

Three years ago the economy was in horrible shape because of Trump's mishandling of the pandemic. Now unemployment is steadily below 4%, job creation continues to exceed expectations, and wages are rising as unions gain strength. The post-pandemic, post-Afghan War inflation rate has receded to near normal levels; people in the 1970s would have sold their souls for a 3.2% (and dropping) inflation rate. And many of the effects of "Bidenomics" have yet to kick in.

And in a story that is criminally underappreciated, his administration’s policy reaction to the covid-induced recession of 2020 was revolutionary in precisely the ways any good leftist should favor. It embraced massive government intervention to stave off the worst economic impacts, including handing millions of families monthly checks (by expanding the child tax credit), giving all kids in public schools free meals, boosting unemployment insurance and extending health coverage to millions.

It worked. While inflation rose (as it did worldwide), the economy’s recovery has been blisteringly fast. It took more than six years for employment rates to return to what they were before the Great Recession hit in 2008, but we surpassed January 2020 jobs levels by the spring of 2022 — and have kept adding jobs ever since. To the idealistic leftist, that might feel like both old news and a partial victory at best. What about everything supporters of Bernie Sanders have found so thrilling about the Vermont senator’s vision of the future, from universal health care to free college? It’s true Biden was never going to deliver that, but to be honest, neither would Sanders had he been elected president. And that brings me to the heart of how people on the left ought to think about Biden and his reelection.

Biden has gotten things done. The US economy is doing better than those of almost every other advanced industrialized country.

Our rivals China and Russia are both worse off than they were three years ago. And NATO is not just united, it's growing.

Sadly, we still need to deal with a far right MAGA cult at home who would wreck the country just to get its own way.

Biden may be elderly and unexciting, but that is one of the reasons he won in 2020. Many people just wanted an end to the daily drama of Trump's capricious and incompetent rule by tweet. And a good portion of those people live in places that count greatly in elections – suburbs and exurbs.

Superhero films seem to be slipping in popularity. Hopefully that's a sign that voters are less likely to embrace self-appointed political messiahs to save them from themselves.

Good governance is a steady process – not a collection of magic tricks. Experienced and competent individuals who are not too far removed from the lives of the people they represent are the best people to have in government.

Paul Waldman concludes his column speaking from the heart as a liberal...

I’ve been in and around politics for many years, and even among liberals, I’ve almost always been one of the most liberal people in the room. Yet only since Biden’s election have I realized that I will probably never see a president as liberal as I’d like. It’s not an easy idea to make peace with. But it suggests a different way of thinking about elections — as one necessary step in a long, difficult process. The further you are to the left, the more important Biden’s reelection ought to be to you. It might require emotional (and policy) compromise, but for now, it’s also the most important tool you have to achieve progressive ends.

Exactly. Rightwingers take the long view. It took them 49 years but they eventually got Roe v. Wade overturned. To succeed, we need to look upon politics as an extended marathon rather as one short sprint.

Republicans may currently be bickering, but they will most likely unite behind whichever anti-abortion extremist they nominate.

It's necessary to get the word out now that the only way to defeat climate-denying, abortion-restricting, assault weapon-loving, race-baiting, homophobic Republicans is to vote Democratic.

#paul waldman #liberalism #election 2000 #election 2024 #joe biden #third parties #vote blue no matter who #donald trump #dumpster fire #trumpster fire #fascism vs. democracy #nra republicans #abortion #climate change #lgbtq+ rights #race-baiting #take the political long view #phil hands

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reidsworld · 2 months ago

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Birthday Headcanons

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Mars speaks… some long birthday HC’s cause I turned 19 today😛

Masterlist | Divider from @/saradika-graphics

His birthday’s

2000s

Birthdays aren’t something Logan’s ever celebrated much—years have passed like a blur for him, and he’s lost track of more than a few. But when you find out, you decide he’s overdue for some fun. You throw a little party at the mansion, much to his protest, but he shows up anyway, grumbling about “not needing all this fuss.”

You make him a cake, and when he sees it, he rolls his eyes, muttering, “You know I can’t get drunk, right?” But there’s a smile tugging at his lips as he cuts into it, pretending not to notice the candles you insisted he blow out.

You gift him a brand-new leather jacket, knowing he’s worn his old one down to threads. He tries to act like he doesn’t care, but the way he runs his hand over the material, admiring it, gives him away. Later, you catch him in front of the mirror, adjusting the collar with a little grin.

The rest of the team tries to get him to do something fun, like karaoke or dancing. He’s resistant at first, leaning back in his chair with a gruff, “Not a chance.” But as the night goes on, and you’re smiling at him in that way that makes his heart skip, he relents, grumbling, “Alright, just this once.”

After everyone’s gone to bed, he finds you alone in the kitchen, and he leans against the counter, giving you that half-smirk. “Not the worst birthday I’ve ever had,” he admits, then pulls you into a slow, sweet kiss, his thumb brushing along your jawline.

2010s

By now, Logan’s a bit more aware of his age, though he’ll never admit it out loud. Birthdays are still not his thing, but he knows you won’t let it slide, so he tries to act surprised when you hand him a small, wrapped gift. He makes a show of sniffing it first, “Just making sure it’s not rigged.”

You take him out for a quiet dinner—some place low-key where he doesn’t have to pretend to be anything other than himself. He seems more relaxed, his shoulders lose some of their tension, and he’s even more talkative than usual, sharing stories you haven’t heard before, things from way back.

Later, you take him back to the mansion, where you’ve arranged a little surprise—a playlist of his favourite songs, heavy on The Rolling Stones. He groans, “Seriously?” but then a smile breaks through, and he pulls you into a dance, grumbling all the while that his moves aren’t what they used to be. He holds you close, his forehead resting against yours, swaying gently.

You give him a photo album you put together of all the people and places that have mattered to him over the years—some old, some new. He’s quiet for a while as he flips through the pages, but you catch the way his fingers linger over certain photos, his eyes softer than usual.

That night, he admits, “Maybe getting older isn’t so bad… if I’ve got you.” He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into bed, and kisses you like he’s trying to make every moment count.

2020s

By now, Logan’s gotten used to his body betraying him, and birthdays have become a painful reminder of time slipping away. He doesn’t expect much, doesn’t even remember it’s his birthday until you remind him. “Yeah, yeah… another year older,” he grumbles, but there’s a hint of a smile he’s trying to hide.

You’ve planned a quiet day, just the two of you. He doesn’t have the energy for much, but he appreciates the simplicity—a drive in his old truck, a stop at a little diner where they don’t bother him, just letting him enjoy his coffee in peace.

You surprise him with an old vinyl, something rare you tracked down just for him. “Where’d you find this?” he asks, his voice low, almost reverent. He places the record on, and as the music fills the room, he closes his eyes, letting out a slow breath, the tension easing from his shoulders.

That night, he opens up more than he usually does, sharing bits and pieces of memories you’ve never heard before, his voice softer, more reflective. “I guess I’ve lived a long damn life,” he says quietly, his hand wrapped around yours. “Never thought I’d make it this far.”

Before bed, he pulls you into his lap, his hands tracing familiar patterns on your back. “Thanks for sticking around, even when I’m a grumpy old bastard,” he mutters. You laugh, and he presses a kiss to your temple, whispering, “I mean it. I’m damn lucky to have you.”

As you fall asleep beside him, you feel his arms tighten around you, and he murmurs, “Maybe next year, we’ll make it a big one. Just to see what all the fuss is about.” You smile, knowing it’s his way of saying he’s not done fighting yet, not done living, as long as he’s got you by his side.

Your birthday’s

2000s

Logan’s not the best at remembering dates, but he surprises you by remembering your birthday. He tries to act all casual about it, like it’s no big deal, but you catch him sneaking off to ask Jean or Ororo what people usually do for birthdays. When the day comes, he shows up with a small, slightly crumpled bouquet of wildflowers, mumbling something about how “flowers seemed like the right thing.”

He takes you out on his bike, just the two of you, racing through empty roads, wind in your hair, and the world blurring past. You stop at a quiet spot, overlooking the city, and he surprises you with a bottle of wine he swiped from the mansion’s cellar. “Don’t tell Scott,” he jokes with a grin, his eyes twinkling under the moonlight.

You make a wish before blowing out the candles on the cake the team got you, and he leans in, whispering, “Hope you wished for somethin’ good.” There’s a hint of mischief in his voice, and when you ask if he wants to know what you wished for, he just smirks, “Nah, I’ll find out eventually.”

Later, he slips a little gift into your hand—a simple, but beautiful necklace with a tiny charm. “Picked it up on my last trip,” he says, shrugging like it’s no big deal, but there’s a hint of nervousness in his eyes. “Figured you might like it.” You can tell he put a lot of thought into it, and when you thank him, he just gives you a rare, genuine smile.

2010s

By now, Logan’s gotten better at the whole “birthday thing.” He doesn’t plan anything extravagant, but he knows you well enough to give you a day that’s just right. He starts with breakfast in bed—pancakes, scrambled eggs, and your favourite coffee, even though he grumbles about “not being a chef.”

He takes you to a small bookstore that you love, the kind with creaky floors and shelves that stretch to the ceiling. You spend hours browsing, and he’s surprisingly patient, leaning against the wall, flipping through some old paperbacks. When you’re not looking, he buys the books you were eyeing and hands them to you as a surprise later on.

The two of you spend the afternoon outside, just lying on a blanket in the park, enjoying the peace and quiet. He brings a small speaker and plays some of your favourite songs, mixed in with a few of his own. “Gotta educate you on the classics,” he teases, grinning as The Rolling Stones play in the background. You end up dancing together, your laughter filling the air, and he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters.

As the day winds down, he pulls you close and tells you he’s got one last surprise. He takes you up to the roof of the mansion where he’s set up a few blankets and pillows, a bottle of wine, and a small picnic. The two of you watch the sunset, his arm wrapped around you, and he says softly, “Happy birthday, darlin’. I hope today was everything you wanted.”

That night, he holds you close, pressing soft kisses to your temple and murmuring, “I don’t need a special day to show ya how much you mean to me… but I’m glad you got one.” And he falls asleep holding you, a rare peaceful expression on his face.

2020s

At this point, Logan knows you well enough to plan a birthday that’s completely tailored to you. He starts the day with a quiet breakfast, letting you sleep in while he cooks your favourite meal. There’s a soft smile on his face as he brings you coffee, knowing exactly how you like it. “Happy birthday, sweetheart,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

He knows big celebrations aren’t your thing anymore, so he keeps it simple—a road trip to somewhere you’ve never been. He lets you pick the destination, and you end up at a secluded cabin by a lake, where it’s just the two of you and the sound of nature all around. “Figured we could use the peace,” he says with a grin, his eyes soft as he looks at you.

Throughout the day, he surprises you with little things—a book you’ve been wanting, a sweater in your favourite colour, even a rare bottle of whiskey he managed to find. “Not as good as what they had back in the day,” he jokes, “but it’ll do.”

He takes you out on the lake in a small boat, rowing you around under the afternoon sun. There’s a calmness about him, a contentment you don’t often see, and he reaches out to take your hand, squeezing it gently. “Thanks for stickin’ around all these years,” he says softly, his voice filled with more emotion than usual.

As the sun sets, he lights a small campfire, and the two of you sit together, watching the stars come out one by one. He wraps a blanket around your shoulders and pulls you close, whispering in your ear, “You deserve more than I could ever give you… but I’ll spend the rest of my life tryin’.”

That night, you fall asleep in his arms, his heartbeat steady against your back, and he murmurs, “Here’s to another year with you, darlin’.” His voice is low, gravelly, and filled with a kind of love that only seems to grow stronger with time.

The next morning, you wake up to find him cooking breakfast again, grumbling about “getting the hang of it” and how he’s going to “make sure every damn birthday from now on is better than the last.” And you know he means it, in that way that’s so uniquely Logan.

Mars speaks... (again) I've been super busy lately with school so hope this will hold y'all over till I can post again lmao. any and all feedback is always appreciated🫶

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett headcanon #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine #wolverine x reader #deadpool and wolverine #hugh jackman #x men #fanfiction #headcanon #reidsworld

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corroded-hellfire · 10 months ago

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Like it’s 1999 - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish Story

Collaboration with the peanut butter to my jelly @munson-blurbs ✨

Summary: Your first New Year’s Eve as Eddie’s girl comes with meeting all his old friends at the Harrington’s party. It turns out to be great fun, but losing track of time leads you to miss out on something you’ve been looking forward to.

Note: Wishing a Happy New Year to all of you lovelies!

Warnings: older!eddie, alcohol consumption, drunkenness, talk about shitty parents (gee, I wonder who)

Words: 4.3k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Walking up to the Harrington house shouldn’t be as daunting as it feels right now. You work here three days a week, bringing Ryan and Luke over to babysit the Munson and Harrington clans together. But you’re not coming here to work today; you’re coming for the New Year’s Eve party Steve and Nancy are throwing.

The house is now filled with friends and family of the Harrington’s, most of whom you haven’t met. And of the ones you have met, it’s only been a handful of times or in passing since you started babysitting for the Munsons. You’ve been lucky enough to become acquainted with Steve and Nancy over the past months and feel honored enough to call them not just your boyfriend’s friends, but your friends now as well. Max and Lucas will be here and the handful of times you’ve met them have been nice. You’ve had entertaining conversations with Max and even got to spend time with their daughter Tiffany a few times.

Dustin is another of Eddie’s friends who you’ve seen here and there, but never for long periods of time since he lives too far away to visit regularly. He’s bringing his new girlfriend, Jennifer, tonight, who Eddie has said is great, but this is the first time you’ll be meeting her. And she is just the first one on the list of people you’ll be meeting tonight for the first time.

Nancy’s little brother Mike and his wife El will be here tonight and you’re just hoping that Mike is as easy to talk to as his sister is. A high school friend named Will is bringing his boyfriend named Cody, but you at least are in the same boat with Eddie on this one because he hasn’t met Cody yet either. And then there’s Robin and Vickie, who you’ve been told have been together since high school. Luckily, Eddie has assured you that Robin can do enough talking for the both of you, so not to worry about any awkward conversations—well, ones with awkward silences, anyway.

Your slightly uncomfortable, yet enviably cute shoes click as you come to a stop in front of the Harrington’s door. Eddie’s hand squeezes yours and the feeling of his larger hand holding yours so safely has some of your anxiety abating. Eddie had known the moment you two had received the invitation that you would be nervous about this. He left the choice up to you if you wanted to attend or not. Being with Eddie meant getting to know those who are important to him, though. A little discomfort is nothing when you think about it like that.

“We can go, sweetheart,” Eddie tells you now that you’re at the literal threshold of the party. “We don’t have to do this.”

You don’t have to do this is what you know he means.

With as much fake courage as you can muster, you shake your head and give Eddie the best smile you can manage. “I want to.”

And you do. It’s certainly better than the party your friends from school invited you to tonight. Being in a crowded and smoky bar where you can barely hear yourself think is not your idea of fun. It’s really just an excuse to find someone to kiss at midnight, then take home for some fun for the next few hours until someone gets kicked out and is forced to do the walk of shame. Not something you’d ever been interested in, really. Besides, why be there when you can be with Eddie?

Your boyfriend knocks on the door and a few moments later a grinning Steve opens it, sporting a pair of novelty “2000” eyeglasses, his hazel brown eyes peering out from the second and third zeroes. There’s music coming from the living room, and you can smell the different hors d'oeuvres that must be set out around the party area. Conversations and laughter float down to the door as well and the prospect of joining in on that makes your tummy do a little flip.

“Hey, Munson! Lady Munson! Come on in.” Steve’s clearly already gotten into the alcohol.

Eddie ushers you into the house before him and helps you out of your jacket. Steve takes both of your coats and hangs them in the closet near the front door. The host leads you further into the house and to the room where adults are milling about, glasses of different colored liquor in most hands, and smiles on almost every face. Stepping into this room without any of the children feels odd. This is where you usually wait with the younger ones while the big kids finish up their homework. Part of you wishes the kids were there because they’re always good to use as a bit of a buffer if you need one in social situations.

Tonight, all Munson and Harrington children are having sleepovers at a grandparent’s house. The Harrington girls are staying with Nancy’s parents, while the boys are with Steve’s. Ryan and Luke are spending the night at Wayne’s, as it’s one of his few precious nights off.

“You don’t mind that your New Year’s Eve plans are watching the boys?” Eddie had asked.

“Plans? Only plan I have is to take advantage of the night off and get as much sleep as I can.”

“Eddie and the lovely lady that is far too good for him have arrived,” Steve announces to the room. Your cheeks heat up at Steve’s words, but Eddie just rolls his eyes and pushes his friend out of his way.

It feels like every eye in the room lands on you and it’s making your nerves creep back up. Not everyone is looking at you, you try to assure yourself, but the jitters have settled in and have you feeling self-conscious. What if they don’t like me? you think. These people are practically Eddie’s family. I need them to like me. They’re going to think I’m not good enough. That I’m too young. Too stupid. That I’m just some young girl Eddie decided to have a fun fling with after getting divorced—

Max comes over to your side and it shakes you out of your spiraling thoughts.

“Hey!” The redhead greets. “It’s so nice to see you again.” She pulls you in for a hug that has your anxious thoughts starting to abate.

“You too!” you say. “How’s Tiffany?” Can't seem to stop talking about the kids, can you?

“She’s great. Talking and walking now, so a complete handful. Oh!” Max catches the attention of a woman about her height with chin length brown hair who stops and smiles at you. “Have you met El?”

“Nice to meet you.” El timidly but kindly extends her hand and you shake it, beginning an evening of greeting new and familiar faces.

By the end of your first lap of talking with everyone, you’re pretty sure you remember everyone’s name, but not necessarily how they all relate to one another—-except Mike. The way he and Nancy bicker at one another occasionally keeps it fresh in your mind that he’s her little brother. Not to mention, the drunker Steve gets, the more he begs Mike to call him ‘big bro.’

“You know,” Robin says, nudging Eddie’s arm with her own, “I don’t think we’ve all been together for New Year’s Eve since ‘92.”

Eddie thinks for a moment, rubbing a hand over his mouth and chin. “God,” he says with a laugh. “That was before Luke.”

“And Corroded Coffin performed!” Dustin adds, flashing a smile that seems to be missing a few teeth.

“You ever see your boyfriend being a rockstar?” Lucas asks, raising his eyebrows at you.

That certainly piques your interest. “I have not.” You turn to Eddie with a giddy smile on your face.

Sheepishness pinkens Eddie’s cheeks. “I wasn’t a rockstar,” he mumbles, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Max almost chokes on her vodka cranberry and lets out a scoff. “Since when are you modest?” she asks with a cocked brow.

Eddie narrows his eyes at Max and opens his mouth to speak, but you interrupt first. “Eddie, shhh, I wanna hear about my rockstar boyfriend!” you tease. “Did you have lots of groupies?”

He groans but drapes his arm over your shoulders as his friends begin to tell you about the band.

“I don’t even like metal, but they were good,” Robin pipes up from where she’s pouring herself another drink.

“They were weekly regulars at this bar,” Dustin explains. “They would sneak us in because we were too young to get into the bar.”

“Actually,” Max says, turning to Eddie, “so were you.”

Eddie shrugs. “I never questioned it.”

“Anyway,” Dustin continues, practically shaking with excitement, “they could play any metal song you could think of. He learned Master of Puppets in a week, and that song is like twelve minutes long.”

“It’s only eight,” Eddie protests, but his friend ignores him completely.

“Whatever. The point is, Corroded Coffin was probably the best band this town has ever seen, and it’s all because of Eddie.” He nudges him with an elbow to the ribs. “Hey, do the move!”

Eddie coughs, face fully red. “Henderson, I don’t know what you’re—”

“Yes, you do, because you’re totally blushing right now.” Dustin cackles, turning to you. “It was like this hip thrust thing, but to his guitar—”

“Okay, enough!” Eddie’s face is beet-red, burying his head in his hands. Dustin starts in again, but a glass drops in the kitchen, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Eddie Munson,” you murmur in his ear, taking advantage of this moment alone, “did you go on stage and hump your poor guitar?” Before he can respond, you tug him by his belt loop. “Can I get a private show later?”

He smirks. “Only for you, baby girl.”

As it typically goes at parties, people mingle around, always popping in and out of different conversations throughout the evening. You and Max sit on a loveseat off to the side of the room, watching Steve, Eddie, Lucas, and Will take shots. The pair of you shake your heads as you observe the men, watching in amusement as Will tries to pour more shots for everyone, no matter how much they decline.

Max isn’t quite drunk but is definitely past tipsy.

“How are you feeling hanging around with this ragtag bunch of weirdos?” she asks once the entertainment of watching the men has worn off.

You chuckle and shake your head. “It’s not as scary as I thought it would be, honestly. And I definitely wouldn’t call you guys weirdos.”

Max pauses, biting her cheek. “It’s really nice to see Eddie with someone who actually appreciates him. Who genuinely loves him, y’know.” She lowers her voice. “I’m not trying to turn this into a bitching session about his ex, but—”

“I am!” More than a few drinks in, Nancy slings one arm over your shoulder and the other around Max’s. The scent of vodka wafts from her mouth. “God, she was the worst! I don’t even know what he saw in her.” She wrinkles her nose. “She wasn’t even that pretty. Like, yeah, maybe a little bit, but not enough to make up for being a total hag!” She cackles like it’s the funniest joke in the world.

Your mind flashes back to how beautiful Brittany actually is, but Nancy’s true drunk feelings warm your heart.

“Yeah, she’s definitely a piece of work,” you say with a humorless chuckle.

“Oh honey,” Max says, “we all know that’s the understatement of the century. She’s a grade A bitch and any time you want to shit talk her, you’ve got a house full of people here ready to chime in.”

“Really?” you ask, raising your eyebrows. “Everyone here hates her?”

“Well, I’m not sure if Cody or Jennifer ever met her, but everyone else, yeah,” Max says with a shrug.

A warmth blooms in your chest. Even though you know Brittany is horrific, and Eddie knows it as well, it’s different to hear it from an outside source. His friends could see the relationship from another perspective, and it seems they came to the same conclusion: Brittany is a spawn of satan. It’s validating and it also makes everyone’s kindness tonight mean that much more to you.

“One time,” Nancy slurs as she perches herself on the arm of the loveseat, “the four of them were gonna drive to Lake Michigan for a long weekend. Luke was only like…I dunno, maybe 18 months? Anyways, poor little thing had a cough, so Brittany took him to the doctor. She comes home and tells Eddie that Luke’s got the sniffles and they’re all good to go. Turns out, Luke had goddamn pneumonia, but she didn’t want it to ruin her getaway.”

The outrage that is coursing through your veins has you gripping your glass so tightly that you start to lose feeling in your hand.

“How have none of you killed her?” you ask, making sure to keep your voice even when you really want to scream.

“Cause that moron,” Max says, nodding across the room at Eddie, “hadn’t come to his senses yet. Or at least, hadn’t let us know that he had.”

“Thank God he found you,” Nancy says. “For him and the boys.”

“I thank God I found them,” you say, the alcohol you’ve had making you a little more sentimental than usual. Though it’s something you always feel, it’s not something you’d always say out loud to people that aren’t Eddie.

Across the house, the guys are having their own little meeting. Steve leans against the counter in an attempt to look mysterious and suave, but his swaying gait gives away his inebriated state.

“Munson, could you stop staring at your girlfriend for two seconds and help me with this tray?” he asks, fumbling with a platter of cheese cubes and crackers.

“Huh? What?” Eddie stutters, Steve’s words registering after a beat. Heat creeps up the back of his neck: caught red-handed.

Will slings his arm around Eddie’s shoulders, pulling him close enough that Eddie can smell the alcohol on his breath. “Aww, you found your Cody!” Will coos.

Eddie’s nose scrunches in confusion. “I’m not following, Byers.”

Will rolls his eyes as though this is obvious information that Eddie should already know. “You found someone who makes you feel happy and warm and loved. Someone you wanna marry someday.” He waggles his eyebrows.

“Yeah, okay.” Eddie tries to play it cool; inside, butterflies flutter in his stomach. Marrying you? Sounds like a dream, one that he’s not sure will ever come to fruition.

Will is undeterred by Eddie’s sudden shyness, doubling down on his statement. “Hey, listen,” he drunkenly slurs, “I don’t need to be into women to know that she,” he points to you, “is a total upgrade from, well,” he lowers his voice, “y’know.”

Dustin swoops in, sensing that the conversation might nosedive from playful banter to pure discomfort. “Okay, let’s get you some water.” He leads Will away, shushing him as they walk.

Eddie takes a swig of beer, grateful that the interrogation is over, but then Steve gently adds, “Not to focus on the ex or anything, but you really do seem…I dunno, more like yourself lately. In a way that you didn’t with Brittany.”

“Is that a good thing?” He’d like to think so, but his insecurities often cloud his judgment like a dense fog.

Steve laughs. “Despite my better judgment, yeah. It is.” He claps him on the back. “She’s a keeper, dude. Don’t fuck it up.”

Eddie chuckles and gives a sheepish shrug of his shoulders. “I’ll try not to.”

Both men look up as they hear footsteps approaching them. Eddie’s brow furrows in concern when he sees tears in your eyes as you walk up to him. He reaches out a hand and you place your smaller one in his.

“What’s got you all upset, Sweetheart?”

You’re too tipsy to properly articulate your emotions after talking with Max and Nancy about how lucky the two of you are to have found each other, so you just murmur, “you.”

Steve laughs and scratches the back of his head. “Guess I spoke too soon.”

You let your hand fall from Eddie’s so you can snake your arms around his middle. Letting your eyes fall closed, you rest your head against your boyfriend’s chest.

“I love you so much,” you mumble.

“I love you too, princess,” Eddie says against your hair before pressing a few kisses there.

Steve can’t help but smile at the interaction between the two of you. It’s so nice to see his best friend in a relationship where he’s appreciated and loved for who he is. The way you both look at one another leaves Steve with no doubt about how happy you make each other. Wanting to give the two of you your privacy, Steve quietly slips away.

Joy buzzes in your stomach, only amplified by the alcohol in your system. You lift your head from Eddie’s chest and lean up to press your lips against his. The kiss is soft and sweet, with no urgency. When the two of you finally part, your boyfriend chuckles and licks over his lips.

“Had vodka, huh?” he asks.

“Do I taste like it?” You giggle. “You taste like beer. And a little like rum.”

“That’s ‘cause I had a shot of rum and have been nursing my beer for an hour,” he says, fingers tracing patterns over the soft fabric of your sweater covering your back.

“‘N you’re not drunk,” you state.

“I’ve got a pretty high tolerance, baby. Plus, need to be able to drive us home later. Got some precious cargo right here,” he says as he pulls your body up against his. “Are you having fun?”

“Yeah,” you tell him, grinning as you think about the good time you’re having with Eddie’s old friends. “I like your friends. Will’s funny.”

“Will is plastered,” Eddie says with a chuckle.

Before you get a chance to respond, Robin is tugging on your arm and whining about how you can kiss Eddie anytime. Eddie reluctantly lets you go, playfully rolling his eyes as you’re pulled away. It makes you giggle before taking control of your own feet again and following Robin toward an empty spot on a couch.

Robin asks you about school, how you like it, what classes you’re taking next semester, and what you’re studying. At first, it seems like these are generic questions that someone asks of a college student, which confuses you because you’d thought you and Robin would be past that stage by now. But as she keeps talking, Robin reveals that she’s been thinking about going back to school and wants to know more about what it's like. Once you know that, you’re able to give her more detailed information about what it's like on campus rather than give the stilted, robotic answers you tend to give when asked the basic questions.

Vickie slips into your conversation at some point, followed by Mike, Dustin, and Jennifer. Your drink keeps getting refilled to where you’re not sure how much you’ve had to drink by the time the conversation peters out. The only thought that can get any traction in your brain is how badly you need to use the bathroom after drinking so much.

You excuse yourself from the group and make your way towards the hallway where the kids’ rooms are. This area of the house is as familiar to you as the back of your hand from working here so much, which is a good thing as you stagger with next to no coordination. Once the bathroom door is shut behind you, it takes all of your concentration to focus on what you have to do. That leaves no brain power to pick up on the cheering that’s coming from out in the living room.

Out amongst his friends, Eddie’s asking where you are, and Vickie is the one to tell him that she saw you headed towards the bathroom. Eddie thanks her and heads towards the back of the house, eager to get to you as the time until midnight shrinks by the second. Your boyfriend turns the corner and is about to knock on the bathroom door when he sees that it’s wide open. He pokes his head inside and it looks like the room hasn’t been touched the whole evening. Realization hitting him, Eddie groans and rubs a hand over his face.

“God damn it, Harrington. Why is your house so big?”

He makes his way back towards the front of the house, figuring out that you must be using the bathroom in the front hallway, the one you’d be most likely to use when you’re here watching the kids. The buzzing house makes it difficult for Eddie to navigate his way to you as quickly as he wants, knowing how upset you’ll be if you miss your midnight kiss. Eddie swears under his breath as he looks down at his watch and it tells him it’s 12:01. Finally arriving at the right bathroom, he knocks on the door.

It swings inward and you step out, grinning when you see Eddie there.

“Hi!”

Even in his frustration, Eddie can’t help but smile at your excitement at seeing him—alcohol-fueled or not.

“Sweetheart,” he starts, taking your hand and pulling you close to his chest. “It’s after midnight.”

“No, it’s not,” you say with a shake of your head. “Cause at midnight we gotta kiss.”

“We missed it, princess,” he tells you, keeping his voice soft.

It takes your brain longer than normal to process his words, but once it does, a frown pulls at your mouth and your eyes get wide. Eddie shouldn’t think it’s as adorable as he does.

“It’s my fault,” you say. “I-I was in the bathroom. I didn’t know what time it was!”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Eddie says, wrapping both of his arms around you. He rubs his hand up and down your back, soothingly. “It’s not your fault. “I tried to come get you and I was late, too.”

“We missed our first New Year’s Eve kiss.” With a whine, you bury your face in Eddie’s chest as tears begin to fall. Strong arms hold you tightly and the weight of Eddie’s head rests against the top of your own.

“Do you want to go back out to the party?” Eddie asks after a few minutes of just holding you.

Sniffling, you shake your head.

“M’sorry, Eddie.”

“Hey.” Eddie cups your face in his hands and tilts your head up. “You have nothing to be sorry about. You and I are going to have New Year’s kisses together for the rest of our lives. And I plan on kissing you every day for the rest of forever, even after we’re dead.” Eddie feels the tightness in his chest lessen as you let out a small giggle at his joke. “So, one late kiss is nothing, sweetheart.” He leans in and presses his lips gently against yours, trying to convey the love and adoration he has for you as he cradles your face. When you pull back, Eddie raises his eyebrows at you in question—did that help?

Much to Eddie’s relief, you nod and wipe your eyes. They’re still sore and puffy, but that will fade. Plus, that’s easy to blame on alcohol consumption.

“Do you want to go home?” Eddie asks.

You shake your head.

“We can stay a little longer,” you say.

“We don’t have to.”

“Wanna have more fun with you.”

That has a small smile growing on your boyfriend’s face.

“I like the sound of that.”

The party winds down now that midnight has passed, and you and Eddie stay for a little while longer. As guests start to leave, you find yourself mingling with everyone and sharing last laughs with his old friends. Eventually, you and Eddie bid those who haven’t left yet goodnight and head back to his apartment.

By the time you arrive home, it’s almost one in the morning. Eddie tosses his keys down on the counter while you shuffle into the kitchen for a glass of water. Sleepily, Eddie follows in behind you but perks up with a smile when he glances at the clock.

“Hey, princess?”

“Hmm?”

“C’mere.”

Body just going through the motions in your tired state, you put the glass down and Eddie tugs you up against his body.

“It’s almost one,” he whispers.

“Okay,” you say, though it sounds more like a question.

“It’s about to be the New Year in the next time zone. So, if we kiss at one, I think that counts as a New Year’s kiss. Don’t you?”

Understanding fights its way through your hazy brain until it clicks. A small smile lights up your face as you nod.

“That sounds like a good plan to me.”

Eddie turns his head to look at the clock on the wall, the second hand racing around towards the nine. Your eyes track the ticking of the thin black line as well, holding your breath as you wait for the hour to strike.

Just as the second hand lands on the twelve, Eddie tilts your chin up and catches your lips with his own. A warm and fuzzy feeling that has nothing to do with your drinking envelops your body as you wrap your arms around his neck. Eddie’s hands rest firmly on your waist, holding onto you as if his life depended on it.

When you part, you rest your foreheads against one another’s. The small, dark apartment shrouds the two of you in shadow, only a sliver of the moon shining in the window giving you enough light to see each other by. The night is quiet around you, no movement breaking the peace as you and Eddie simply gaze into one another’s eyes.

“Happy New Year’s, baby.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #older!eddie #dad!eddie #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #AYW #AYWS

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qqueenofhades · 8 months ago

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I don't know why I thought it was a good idea to argue with people about the worthlessness of voting third party. They just keep insisting that the influence is worth it, and that I was a coward for daring to suggest that we don't HAVE any other options than Democratic. I even cited how voting third party likely played a part in Al Gore losing ffs.

There's no "likely" about it, Ralph Nader DID directly cost Gore the election. He ran explicitly on the same "both parties are the same, so leftists/liberals should vote for me instead" rhetoric that we are still seeing among the Online Left, and it was successful: he got, for example, over 97,000 votes in Florida. Bush won Florida (and thus the presidency) by a miniscule 537 votes, after the fuckery of Bush v. Gore and SCOTUS ordering the recount stopped in Bush's favor. If the tiniest percentage of those Nader voters had gone for Gore, we would have had a president who was arguing in favor of tackling climate change in the year 2000. We would have been incredibly ahead of the curve. We would, in all likelihood, have a president who took the CIA's warnings of an impending al-Qaeda attack in the US seriously. We would not have had the disastrous Afghanistan and Iraq invasions and the "War on Terror," the rampant Islamophobia, "No Child Left Behind," the 2008 economic crash, and everything else that Dubya and his band of bloodthirsty neocons inflicted on us in the early aughties. Look, I try not to look back too much, but having Gore instead of Bush as president would have reshaped the entire timeline we're living in to such an unfathomably better degree that every moron thinking of voting third party For The Protest should be sat down and forced to learn this history intimately. Of course, they already saw it happen in real time in 2016, but they didn't care about that either.

The good news is: there are plenty of persuadable voters out there, and you can do work to reach them and convince them to vote for Democrats! They're just not online, because all the Online Leftists are terminally brain-poisoned against voting anyway and trying to argue with them is generally a waste of time. Instead, what you should do is take a gander at the following links:

This is the one-stop shop page for volunteering to get Democrats elected. You can do in-person and remote work, there are tons of different ways to get involved (i.e. you don't have to go directly out and knock doors if that's not something you're comfortable with), and your local Democratic party will welcome the volunteer help. There is also a page for finding your state party website:

I went there, clicked on my state, opened the webpage, and there was a "Volunteer" link right in the header, with an easy and quick form to fill out to register your interest and explain the kinds of work you would be interested in doing. You can canvass directly, you can manage data on the back end, you can phone bank, you can send texts and postcards to voters who may need an extra nudge, you can otherwise work with your state party in lots of ways, and it will be so much more productive and make you feel so much better than arguing with online idiots who will never, ever change their minds. What you can do is reach out to voters in your own community, in your own state, and have conversations with people who actually ARE willing to listen, but might need a little more educating on the facts, what's at stake, the truth about this election, and the danger that Trump poses. All of this will convert into critically important Democratic votes, and you can actually put your desire to make a difference into action. So yeah. I would 100% suggest you do it this way instead. Good luck.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts

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bogleech · 7 months ago

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twitch_live

Tonight at 6 pm PDT, another stream of Dragon Quest Monsters 2 for the 3ds! Better than every Pokemon or Digimon game I've ever played, and also better than the newer DQM game for the switch, but never officially localized! Last stream, we stumbled into recruiting a giant deadly sand-shark-centipede that should have been slightly too high level for us!

Now she's our deadliest monster, but she also takes up 3/4 party slots! She is too big!!! Maybe that's okay!? This stream I'll also go over my personal top ten-ish monsters from the original, gameboy color version that I most look forward to finding in this remake!

I say this every week that I make a new thread, but I wanted to play this game since it first released in Japan about eight years ago. I also wanted to play the original early 2000's version back in the day and just never got around to it, so technically it took me almost twenty years to finally play any form of Dragon Quest Monsters 2. It's turned out to be entirely worth it!

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northoftheroad · 3 months ago

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Has Dick ever attempted to kill Zucco? Because it's something I see very often being brought up in discussions about Dick Grayson. But in everything I've read, the only thing Dick has ever done to Zucco is bring him to justice with Batman's help after finding out he's who murdered his parents.

Hi, Indeed, the idea that little Dick was out for bloody vengeance is blown hugely out of proportion and it's tiresome to see it so widespread! As far as I know, he's never been out hunting for Zucco with the expressed intention to kill him.

(I might be late to the party because I saw that @farshootergotme recently made this point in two posts – definitely check them out (part 1 and part 2). But since I've been working on an answer, I'll press on.)

The original story (and later retellings of it) in Detective Comics # 38 (1940) had Dick intending to go to the police but Batman stopped him and said it would lead to Dick himself being killed because "the whole town is run by boss Zucco" (who was a big time boss at the time, he's been very much reduced in importance since).

Detective Comics # 38

In Batman Year Three (1989), right after the murder, Dick tells Batman to "Kill him for me". He's never out looking for Zucco, though, and by the time he's taken in by Bruce from the orphanage, he says it wouldn't change anything, he just wishes he "could do something so people like him couldn't hurt anyone ever again".

Batman vol 1 # 436 and 437

I think the angriest we've seen Dick is in Batman The Animated Series. I believe the BTAS episodes Robin's Reckoning (1993) started the trend of little Dick going out by himself (in different media, he has been looking for Zucco, running away from being mistreated, following Batman, and visited the circus).

In BTAS Zucco wasn't caught after the murder and little Dick was indeed out to look for Zucco, but nothing was said about killing him. He still becomes a pretty happy Robin in the show, but he does blow up when Zucco comes back to Gotham and Batman doesn't want Robin's help to look for him (because Batman was afraid that something would happen to Robin). There is a moment where Zucco (and the audience) is supposed to wonder whether Robin will let him drop a long way down, so this, I would argue, is the closest we'll ever see to Dick wanting to kill him. But this is Dick as a young adult who have lived with Zucco getting away, as opposed to comics.

BTAS Robin's Reckoning

In the Robin Annual # 4, Year One, (1995), where Dick is placed and mistreated at a youth centre, he runs away to get away – with no intention of looking for a criminal, just to save himself. He's still alone and miserable after Bruce has taken him in so he does go out one night to visit Haly circus, which is back in town. Haly is killed, Dick attacks the killers and has to be saved by Batman. Dick's internal thoughts in this book are about putting Zucco away (in prison), not killing.

Robin vol 2 Annual # 4

In The Choice in Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight #100 (1997), Dick does go out to look for the murderer, and Zucco dies of heart failure (or something like that), but Dick says he didn't want him to die. And in Dark Victory (1999–2000), Dick tells Batman he wants to help. However, Batman takes Dick with him to confront Zucco; Dick chases Zucco who (again) dies from medical issues, and Dick does not look triumphant.

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight #100 (The Choice)

Dark Victory

And in New 52, (Nightwing vol 3 # 0, 2012), 15-year-old Dick is indeed out looking for Zucco, because he feels it's his responsibility, and he starts to fight criminals together with Batman out on the streets. Again, nothing is said about wanting to kill Zucco. The Long Year in Secret Origins vol 3 # 1 (2014) has a slightly different version, but here too, Bruce and Dick only talk about catching Zucco.

Nightwing vol 3 # 0

Secret Origins vol 3 # 1 The Long Year

There are a few more versions of Dick's origin stories, but I think I've covered the ones most people know about. I'm not really familiar with the animated Teen Titans but, as far as I know, there is no mention of Tony Zucco here (since some people seem to think that Robin is actually Tim Drake, even though it's clearly based on New Teen Titans. And I believe there is a reference to the circus somewhere?).

Thanks for the ask! I have been writing snippets about the subject of fanon murder child Dick Grayson here and there, it was good to get a reason to collect my thoughts and panels once and for all.

#dick grayson #nightwing #robin #batman #fanon vs canon #fanon is not canon

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cherrycolored-punk · 3 months ago

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WADWSH - Chapter One: The Contest

Masterlist

pairings: 2000s!actor!Steve Harrington x fem!Reader, 2000s!bestfriend!Eddie Munson x fem!reader.

summary: Bad boy Steve Harrington is in trouble and desperate to clean up his image by any means necessary.

author’s note: we’re having fun, amping it up and d r a w i n g it out. we need angst, and pining and indecision (we is me) 🖤 I hope you all enjoy this chapter and this story. Remember, it’s completely re-written so things are different 👀

comments/reblogs and any feedback is always appreciated !

w/c: 6.8k

warnings: mentions of parental death, absent/neglectful parent

“Are you fucking seeing this?” Steve gruffed, pacing the length of his living room as he clenched the phone pressed to his ear.

“Yes, I’m seeing it just like I saw the tabloids of you cruising around West Hollywood holding a bottle of Ciroc,” Tad’s voice was full of frustration, causing Steve’s jaw to clench. His gaze shot back to his plasma TV.

Images of his wild night out were plastered on the screen as Ryan Seacrest narrated a version of his night out.

Hollywood’s most famous bad boy is back at it again!

“Steve Harrington was spotted making the rounds and leaving Bar Deluxe with two of Victoria’s sweetest angels.”

“Guiliana, what are the chances he will ever settle down?” He asked as he turned to his cohost.

Rancic cringed and stared into the camera.

“It’s not likely,” she laughed, and Ryan joined her.

Their laughs grinding every last one of Steve’s nerves.

He’d had enough and snatched the remote from the coffee table, angrily pressing the power button until the screen went black.

“What are you going to do about it?” His voice raised an octave, pointing at the TV with the remote as though his manager were there.

“Harrington, I’m already in contact with the best PR firm in the city. Trust that I am taking care of this.”

“You know this will ruin my chances with Hewitz for his latest film.”

“Just don’t plan on any more late nights. The firm is working on a plan, and as soon as I hear what it is, I’ll call you. Don’t go making my job any more difficult.” The older man grumbled on the other end of the line, voice deeper from years of smoking.

“Take care of it, Jenkins.” Steve flipped his phone shut, tossing it and the remote onto the couch before plopping himself onto the cushion.

He pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose as his mind whirled with thoughts.

Henry Hewitz was the most prominent Hollywood Director to date. Anyone who starred in his movies was guaranteed success, a shoo-in during award season, and Steve wanted the role of the leading man in Hewitz’s current project more than anything.

Hewitz, however, did not want him.

Steve had a reputation and not one that many directors wanted attached to their films. Offers were already coming in less frequently. The stench of his troubles kept most investors away; try as he might, he couldn’t clean up his image.

And he did try, stints in rehab or starting new hobbies. None of them stuck, not the way that partying did.

He was antsy for the remainder of the afternoon, bouncing between activities. Tanning by his pool, lifting weights inside his gym, and even trying to copy a recipe off the Food Network. He quickly realized that “Foolproof Ribs” weren’t foolproof enough for him, and nothing would keep his mind occupied while he waited for Jenkins to call him.

Harrington leaned against his marble-top kitchen island, reluctantly nibbling on a piece of his creation.

Why didn’t I just ask Dorota to come and prep something?

He winced at the taste and plucked the nearly burnt rib back onto the plate with a heavy sigh.

His phone rang beside him, loud and shrill, and he hurriedly grabbed it when he spotted his manager’s name flashing on the screen.

“Tell me you’ve got something already, Tad,” Steve turned toward his fridge, thirsty for a beer. Voice a little desperate.

The older man coughed loudly, and Steve pulled the phone away, his face twisting in disgust, before putting it back to his ear.

“I’ve got something, but you’re not going to like it,” Jenkins coughed again and cleared his throat.

“Lay it on me,” Steve rolled his eyes as he used the bottle opener to pull the cap off the glass neck, guzzling down half its contents while he listened to his manager prattle on.

But it was something the older man said that caused him to choke on the amber liquid and press a finger to his mouth to keep it from spewing all over the kitchen floor.

He gulped loudly.

“You want me to do what?”

“When I agreed to come to the movies with you two, I didn’t mean that I was game to watch your Romeo, Steve Harrington, poorly act his way through another rom-com,” Eddie whined as the three of you walked towards the auditorium.

“Majority rules,” Beth stuck her tongue out at him, her arm linked with yours as the two of you walked a few paces ahead of him.

You giggled along with her.

“Don’t be such a poo,” you called over your shoulder, and he rolled his eyes.

“Excuse me for not finding the appeal of some Hollywood bozoo.”

“He’s not a bozoo, Eddie, he’s-” Beth began.

“Dreamy,” you chimed in.

He stopped in his tracks and tilted his chin to the ceiling.

“God, I know that I ask for a lot, but if you’re ever going to answer my prayers, I ask that you strike me down now.” Eddie’s hands were clasped together in a plea.

You grabbed a handful of popcorn and threw it back at him with a teasing grin.

“So dramatic.”

“It’s not nice to litter, Sunshine.” He followed after you, picking popcorn from his brown curls and popping it into his mouth.

The auditorium was nearly full as you entered it, the eager eyes of the crowd already pinned to the screen. The theater itself had not been updated since the eighties; the same dusty drapes lined the walls and smelled slightly of mildew.

The three of you climbed the stairs and took your seats. Eddie on one side, Beth on the other and you situated right in the middle. Just as it had always been since the three of you were old enough to ride your bikes to the cinema.

The room fell silent as the lights dimmed and the opening trailers began to play. You and Beth squealed when you saw the trailer for Steve’s latest project, each holding onto the other as you caught glimpses of his profile through the flashing images.

“Oh, brother,” Eddie grumbled and slinked further into his seat, aggressively chewing off a piece of his Twizzler.

He sat through the movie with his arms crossed, bored and occasionally glancing at you. Watching the range of expressions that crossed your face. He could always read you so easily.

If your eyes glittered when you smiled, you were happy. Truly happy.

If you smiled with an arched brow, you were feeling mischievous. He saw that look often.

If you found something funny, you snorted, and he knew you found something hysterical when there was complete silence. The only evidence that you were amused was how you held your stomach, eyes crinkled shut.

If your eyebrows scrunched together, you were worried or seconds from crying, just like now.

Eddie watched as you held back tears at the pivotal moment, Steve’s reunion with his love interest after years away at war.

The strings of the orchestra music playing in the background of the scene pulled at your heart, the emotion palpable.

“And how is this different from his other movies,” Eddie leaned over and whispered into your ear.

“Shut up,” you nudged him with your shoulder and shoveled more popcorn into your mouth.

You sighed in satisfaction when the two on-screen lovers finally kissed.

The credits began to play, and Beth leaned over your frame.

“How good was that?”

Eddie’s face twisted in disbelief.

“I’ve shit turds that were better than that.”

“Ew,” both you and Beth said in unison.

“I just wonder if he’s really like that, y’know, all sweet and romantic.” Her gaze tilted to the ceiling as she imagined Steve gazing at her like he did his costar.

“He has to be. There’s no way he could play a character so well if he weren’t,” you chimed in.

“He’s an actor,” Eddie reminded you.

“An hour ago, you said he couldn’t act,” Beth scoffed.

It was the umpteenth time he’d had the same argument with the two of you.

“It’s a sign - I’ve lost my mind.” Eddie held his hands in front of him, his gaze fixated on the ground as he put on the charade of someone who wasn’t all there.

“You’re such a butthead.” Beth leaned over and pushed at his head of curls before she stood up to leave. The auditorium was nearly empty, the screen had gone black and the theater workers waited patiently for you to leave so they could finish their closing tasks.

It was late, and you were scheduled for the opening shift at Family Video the following day alongside Eddie.

The three of you walked towards Eddie’s Volkswagen Rabbit, Beth’s beat-up Corolla parked beside it.

“See you tomorrow,” Beth called over her vehicle as you opened the passenger door to Eddie’s car. You waved over your shoulder before plopping into the seat. The car smelled like him - weed, tobacco, and spiced vanilla. A scent you’d become accustomed to in all the years you’d known him.

“Don’t be late!” Eddie yelled back at the strawberry-blonde, index finger pointed at her.

“You’re only my manager between the hours of twelve and eight within the confines of Family Video!” She flipped him off and climbed into her car, getting the last word.

Eddie tapped his knuckles against the hood of his car as he watched her leave, watching the tail lights of her car get further away before jumping into the driver’s seat.

“Do you have to pick at her?” you questioned as he got comfortable in his seat.

“I only dish up what she’s dishing out,” Eddie shrugged as he started the car.

And it was true. While you and Eddie were best friends, Beth and Eddie would be considered something closer to frenemies.

You’d known him since you were kids. He was the first kid in the trailer park to say hi to you after you moved in with your grandma days after your parents died.

Sure, Uncle Wayne was the one who insisted he said hi, but what came after the small introduction was all Eddie.

The two of you grew up thick as thieves, soldiering through the complexities and horrors of middle and high school together. There was no one on the planet you were closer to, especially after your gran passed away two years ago. But you’d never admit it, especially not to Beth.

You’d met her towards the end of eighth grade when she transferred to your school in the second semester. You warmed up to her immediately; Eddie was still working on it.

In many ways, they were alike - not that either of them would agree. Both were headstrong, sarcastic, witty, and total pains in your ass.

“You get lost in your head over there or something?” He glanced at you before quickly returning his gaze to the road.

On drives like this, you couldn’t help but think of your parents, couldn’t help but miss them something fierce. You hated when it was time to return home, to the empty, quiet trailer that gran had left you in her will.

It hadn’t felt like home since she passed, but even before it still always felt temporary. Despite your gran's best efforts, you never felt settled or like you belonged. Constantly yearning for a place that felt like yours, chasing the feeling you had when your parents were alive.

“Just thinking of them,” you answered honestly, staring out the window and eyes darting to the stars that dotted the night sky.

Eddie didn’t need a further explanation; he knew how you felt all too well. He became an orphan two years before you. Even though his dad was alive, he was as good as dead. His absence felt at every birthday, Christmas, and band gig he didn’t attend.

Without asking, he took the road toward Lover’s Lake instead of the one that led to your home. He wasn’t up to any funny business; he just knew you weren’t ready to go home, and you didn’t question him as the paved road turned into a dirt one lined heavily with trees on either side.

He pulled near the lake and cut the engine, rubbing his palms along his jean-clad thighs.

“You good, Sunshine?” He watched the side of your face, worry creasing in his brow.

Your eyes rolled in amusement at the nickname he’d given you when you were just kids.

“Just peachy,” you responded, fingers swirling in your hair absently, and still staring out the window.

“Never been a good liar, sweetheart,” he nudged your shoulder.

“Do you ever feel stuck?” You stated abruptly and Eddie’s eyebrows shot up into his bangs, hand falling back into his lap.

“Be more specific?” He was studying your face, what he could see of it, attempting to decipher what you were trying to say.

“Here in Hawkins. O-or like you don’t really have a place to call home?” you stammered and turned to him. Your eyebrows were knitted together and he knew you were worried, sad even.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Not exactly my dream to still be living with my Uncle, who was forced to take me in while I manage a movie rental shop in the worst city along the bible belt.”

Your lip jutted to the side.

“Wayne loves you,” you insisted and Eddie nodded at your words.

“Yeah, he does but I still flipped his life upside down,” he chuckled without humor and began to pull at the frayed edge of his jeans.

You wanted to assure him but knew he wouldn’t believe you so instead you changed the subject.

“What would you do? If you could do anything, no limits?”

His lips lifted into a sideways grin, the kind of smile you saw when he was amused and you knew that it was the distraction he needed. That you both needed.

“Get my music out there. Cut a record and get the fuck out of Indiana. I just want to buy my uncle a house and let the old man retire.”

You nodded, teeth digging into your bottom lip. Your dreams felt so much simpler in comparison, almost lame.

“And you?”

You took a deep breath and sighed heavily, blowing a raspberry as you did.

“I just want my own house. Maybe with some land. You know, like my family used to own?”

You used to have a home. A big ranch-style house that your parents were still paying on at the time of their accident and when there was no one who could pay, the bank took it away.

He nodded and smiled wider at the image in his head. Eddie could picture you sitting in a rocking chair on a wraparound porch, the golden retriever you’d always wanted resting at your feet.

His silence made you self-conscious, and you laughed, but Eddie knew it wasn’t one you meant.

“I know it sounds lame, but-”

“It’s not lame,” he assured, “I know it’s going to happen one day. Going to have that dream house on forty acres with two-and-a-half kids-”

“Six,” you interrupted with a wide grin.

“Holy shit, ok, six kids and a loaded husband. Who the fuck can afford six kids?”

“We said no limits,” you reminded him, and he nodded in agreement. A broad dimpled grin spread across his lips.

“If anyone’s dreams are gonna come true, it’ll be yours.”

“How are you so sure?”

Because I’ll make it happen even if I have to work three jobs until my hair turns gray.

But he didn’t say that part out loud.

“Just trust me, it’ll happen before you know it.”

“It’ll happen for you too.”

Eddie began to scoff, but you shot him that look, the one that dared him to question you. He held up his hands, calling a ceasefire before any shots were fired.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence as you stared at the lake. It was always easy like this with Eddie; easy conversation without awkward pauses. Comfortable enough to sit with just the sound of crickets chirping around you.

Family Video was dead; the afternoon rush before a weekend had settled into a quiet lull.

You sat at the computer, scanning in returned videos as Eddie worked in his office. His molten honey gaze darting to the clock every so often. Beth was nearly thirty minutes late.

The Goonies played on TV - Eddie’s choice instead of the endless cycle of previews for Steve Harrington’s newly released movies. He drew the line at his job.

Beth barged through the front door, huffing and obviously distressed. Her hair disheveled and sticking to the sweat that lined her forehead.

“Are you okay?” You questioned as you took in her appearance.

“Oh, just great,” she responded sarcastically.

“That’s twenty-eight minutes, Walden!” Eddie shouted from his office, addressing her by her last name.

She groaned.

“I had a long night!”

“You left before us?”

Eddie’s voice grew louder as he left his desk and leaned against the doorway.

“Doesn’t mean I went to sleep,” she said in a low tone, gaze avoiding that of her two friends as she clocked in and set her bag underneath the counter.

“What kept you up, or should I say who kept you awake?” You questioned, voice breathy in faux flirtation.

“You know that cutie from the bar?”

“You didn’t!” You gasped, mouth rounded and eyes wide in excitement. Beth had been eying the curvy brunette behind the bar for ages, never working up the courage to ever introduce herself.

“I did. Twice!” She held up two fingers as you both squealed.

“Gross,” Eddie gagged, and Beth shot him a dirty look.

“Don’t be jealous.”

“How did you blast off twice and have a bad night?” You interrupted, using the code name the two of you had come up with in high school. Not that it was any use, Eddie had caught on years ago when you and Beth tried to talk in code about her trysts.

“Because my car wouldn’t start this morning, and she expected a ride home. So by the time I got it working and dropped her off, I was already running late.”

“Oh.”

She turned her head and looked at Eddie with pleading eyes.

“Could you, pretty please, take a look at it, Eds?”

“It’ll cost you,” he pushed off the frame of his office door and moved to lean against the counter across from her. You turned your attention back to the computer as they bartered with each other, scanning in the last rental return.

You hummed to yourself as you opened your email and skimmed through the new messages you’d received. Eyes practically bulging out of your head when you saw the subject line of one in particular.

Win a Date with Steve Harrington!

“Oh my god!” You shouted, catching the attention of your friends. Both of them looking at the back of your head with concern.

“What is it?” Beth leaned over your shoulder and read the email, fingers gripping your skin as she neared the end.

“Holy shit!” She shouted with you, and both of you began bouncing in place.

“What is it? Rick check-out Fast Times again?” Eddie chuckled, amused with his own joke.

“I could win a date,” you paused, “with Steve Harrington!”

You and Beth squealed again.

“Yeah, right. Let me see.”

He nudged you out of the way as he read through the e-mail.

“Seems like a scam.” He backed away from the computer and shook his head disbelieving.

“It’s not!”

You clicked the link and read through the site to confirm that it was indeed official.

“See, he wants to donate the money he raises to Feeding America.”

You and Beth awed in unison; Eddie couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

“There’s no way that King Steve doesn’t have some sort of ulterior motive,” he grumbled. Referring to Steve as the nickname he’d had for the brief moment in time he’d walked the same halls of middle school as you.

“That was almost thirteen years ago, Eddie!” The two of them began bickering again.

You turned your attention back to the screen and read through the contest rules.

“I doubt he’s some gem now.”

“Not everyone donates to charity with an ulterior motive.”

Beth turned away from him and read through them with you.

“Grand prize includes a first-class flight to Los Angeles, lux accommodations at the Waldorf Hotel, styled outfits for the date, and a private dinner with Steve!” You gripped Beth’s hand excitedly as you read the entry rules.

“Says we have to pay one hundred dollars for a ticket to enter,” your shoulders sagged.

“Shucks,” Eddie snapped his fingers in fake disappointment. He knew that you didn’t have a hundred bucks to spare.

Slowly, you and Beth turned to him.

You looked at him with pleading eyes.

Beth looked at him with murderous intent.

“I think you want to donate twenty-five to the cause, don’t ya Eds?” She asked as she stood straight and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Would you, Eddie? Please?” your lip practically jutted out into a pout as you waited for his response.

And how could he ever say no to you?

He groaned and reached for the wallet nestled in the back pocket of his jeans before handing you a few bills he didn’t bother to count.

“Guess I can’t say no to feeding the hungry,” he muttered, refusing to acknowledge that there was even a slight possibility you’d win.

You jumped up and wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him close before acknowledging the money he was willing to give you. Your lips pressed to his cheek, and you pushed off his chest before grabbing the money.

“You’re the best, Eds!” You gleamed, but Eddie was still in shock—cheek vibrating from where your lips had just pressed, and how affected he was by the moment wasn’t lost on Beth.

She shot him a knowing smile as he shook his head from the stupor but didn’t say more about it as she reached for her purse.

“Eddie gave you thirty, and here’s twenty more. Now you just need fifty.”

You bounced with excitement, pulling them both close in another embrace.

“Have I said that you guys are my best friends?”

“I know I am, but Beth?”

The strawberry blonde shot her hand towards his ribs, and he winced as though he’d been mortally wounded.

You were too blissed out to notice - images of your imaginary date with Steve Harrington already popping into your head.

Three Weeks Later…

The Hideout was crowded, bodies pressed together and huddled around the makeshift stage. You and Beth weren’t amongst the large crowd, though, opting instead for your usual seats near the bar—the spot where you’d have the perfect view of Corroded Coffin as they played their usual Thursday night gig.

“I can’t believe the turn-out,” you exclaimed, eyes darting around the hole-in-the-wall that never saw this many people.

“I know,” Beth remarked incredulously.

Both of you were shocked for very different reasons.

Eddie had begun to play shows at the local bar back in eleventh grade. His usual crowd had consisted of the same five drunks, but over the years, the popularity of the band, his popularity, had grown exponentially. Far surpassing the occupancy limits of the small space.

People had started to come from all over the state, even out of state, to see them perform. Their followers on MySpace had nearly tripled what they used to be, and their monthly listeners had doubled, but Eddie had yet to accept that his band was known, that they could play at a bigger venue, or even book a small tour. Even when you’d shown him the evidence, he’d rolled his eyes. Too afraid to believe that his dreams might be within grasp.

The bar lights dimmed, and the stage lights came on, illuminating the wooden platform in shades of red. The crowd began to cheer, surging forward to get as close as possible to the stage.

Gareth, Jeff, and Xander took the stage with their instruments, each giving a small wave as they did. Jeff began to strum on his guitar before Gareth joined with his drums, freestyling before Eddie came on stage.

They loved to tease the crowd.

Eddie came out a few moments later, waving his hands to greet the crowd. Amping up the energy even more. The buzz of it felt in the air.

“Holy shit,” He breathed into the microphone as he took in how many people were there.

“How are we doing?”

The crowd’s yells grew even more in response to his question.

“I hope you’ll indulge me tonight. I want to do something a little different than our usual sound. Something I’ve been working on with the guys,” he turned and pointed to his bandmates with a bright smile.

The audience cheered, and Eddie nodded as they did.

“Anyone a fan of Audioslave?

They roared a resounding yes.

“Me too,” he nodded again, “This is a cover of Like a Stone. I hope you enjoy it.”

The stage lights changed, washing the band in blue. A more somber mood settled over them as they began to play the song's opening. Eddie bobbed his head as his friends played, eyes closed as he felt the music and your gaze focused on him. You loved seeing him in his element, a different kind of focus that fell over him that you only ever saw when he played dungeon master during campaigns. Passionate. Happy. And it looked so good on him.

“On a cobweb afternoon, in a room full of emptiness,”

Eddie’s voice was rich, enveloping you in its warmth as he sang. Your eyes traced over his features. Noticing him in a way you hadn’t in a long time. The slope of his nose, the apples of his cheeks, the sharp edge of his jaw and it was like your childhood crush was rearing its ugly head. Surging forward and nearly knocking you to your feet.

His eyes found you in the crowd, and it felt like he was singing to you.

“I’ll wait for you there like a stone,

I’ll wait for you there alone.”

You swallowed harshly, blinking rapidly as you gripped the glass cup you held before chugging down its contents.

He isn’t singing to you. Get a grip.

You were best friends, but there was a time when you wanted more.

Throughout your senior year, you yearned for Eddie to notice you the way that all girls wanted to be noticed when they fell in love with their best friend, but he never saw you that way. His attentions were on Paige, some girl who claimed she’d help him get his music to a reputable producer, and then on Chrissy, the head cheerleader he’d had a crush on since all of you were in middle school.

It was never you, and you had accepted that long ago, but seeing him on stage roused something inside you. Something that unfurled its wings and took flight in your gut, creating a flurry of excitement. Making you nervous, anxious, and overwhelmed.

The song continued, Eddie’s deep voice turning you into a puddle. He was right; it wasn’t the band’s usual sound. It was melancholy, a longing felt in each lyric, and you wondered who it was for, who Eddie thought of as he sang.

You glanced back up and noticed that Eddie’s attention was still on you somehow despite the size of the crowd.

His vocals kicked up, and he hit every note like a plea.

“I’ll wait for you there like a stone,

I’ll wait for you there alone.”

Your breath hitched, lungs squeezing tightly as though you were in the middle of the crowd being pushed on all sides. Claustrophobic. Overwhelming.

“I know I usually shit on Eddie, but oh my god,” Beth cut through your trance and you gave her a tight grin.

“They sound so fucking good,” her breath was warm in your ear. The smell of gin enveloping you.

“He does,” you breathed.

Your muscles were tensed the rest of their show, and you felt like you were drowning in your thoughts. In the feelings that’d crept up from their burial site deep within your ribs. You didn’t take a breath until Eddie was no longer on stage. Until the stage lights dimmed and the bar lights came back on.

“Listen to me,” Beth grabbed your arm and your attention.

“Do not tell Eddie what I said. He can’t know that I think he’s good.”

“Why not?” You laughed, brows pushed together in confusion.

“Because he’ll never let me live it down!” She insisted with a roll of her eyes. You knew that she wasn’t wrong. If there was anything that Eddie enjoyed, it was teasing her.

“Your secret is safe with me,” you promised, holding up your pinky finger to seal it. Her finger encircled yours, and you kissed the side of your hand—an official pact.

“What’s the secret?” Eddie interrupted, sliding into the bar stool next to you. You jolted at his sudden appearance, frazzled by the sight of him.

“What do you mean,” you questioned, avoiding eye contact but entranced by the smell of his cologne: spice and vanilla with a slight hint of tobacco.

And why is your mouth watering?

Your eyes widened at the realization.

“I walked in on the sacred pact. I know you guys are hiding something,” he pointed between the two of you.

“Great set tonight,” you changed the subject - sort of.

“Yeah, yeah, it was fun,” Eddie glanced around the bar. At the strangers who were still eying him and debating whether or not to approach.

“Surprised by the new song,” you began to broach the subject.

“Just a little something I’ve been working on,” he shrugged.

“I heard, but who has my best friend all glum?” You poked his side with a grin that didn’t meet your eyes, and he could tell something was bothering you.

“Just a girl,” he chuckled.

“Must be some girl,” your smile fell, and you played with the condensation on your glass.

“She is,” Eddie assured, eyebrows lost in his bangs—a mournful look painting his gaze.

Did you really not know?

“Eddie, use your newfound local fame for some good and get us some free drinks,” Beth interrupted, begging as she finished her gin and tonic.

“No way,” he scoffed.

“Come on!” She whined.

“What if I played you for them?” You challenged with a lilt of your brows.

“Ok, but if I win, you’re buying the drinks.” Eddie set the terms and pushed off the bar stool.

“Deal,” you held your hand out to shake on it. His warm palm slid against yours, his large hand enveloping your smaller one. You could feel the calluses on them, evidence of his years of practice and manual labor. He shook your hand gently, holding onto you for a moment. Swallowing hard at the simple contact.

“Go win us some drinks!” Beth interrupted again, shaking your shoulders and egging you on. Your hand slipped from his, heat growing in your cheeks.

“301?” you challenged as you pushed off your barstool.

“Game on,” Eddie said in agreement and followed.

The two of you walked towards the dartboard, pushing each other playfully as you did.

“I’ll take a pina colada, Munson. Make you order something the bartender might hate you for,” you teased. Eyes tracing up his jean-clad legs, admiring how they hugged his thighs as he pulled the darts from the board.

“Oh, you’re toast,” he muttered over his shoulder.

He walked over and handed them to you, a mischievous glint in his eye. Had he caught you staring?

“Ladies first,” he beckoned you to stand in front of him, allowing you to start the game.

You lined up, feet dancing along the tapped line that desperately needed to be replaced. Your tongue stuck out to the side as you concentrated, arm moving back and forth as you got ready to aim. To start the game, you needed to double in.

“Scared to lose?” Munson questioned, his breath fanning against your ear. You tried to hide the shiver that traveled up your spine in response and threw the dart - hitting the double ring next to the number eighteen.

“Not a chance,” you flashed him a cocky smile.

“Lucky hit,” he rolled his eyes and stepped back to allow you to throw your other two darts.

They landed where you aimed them, bringing your score down from 301 to 231.

“Your turn, Munson.” You walked to the board and grabbed your darts, standing behind him as he lined up with his own.

You giggled as you noticed that the two of you shared the same look of concentration. Eddie’s brows were pushed together, tongue jutted out as he looked to aim. You stood on your tiptoes, leaning close to his ear.

“Miss, miss, miss,” you whispered.

Eddie stilled, and you felt his muscles tighten underneath the palm of your hand that rested on his shoulder. He took a deep breath, the scent of your perfume filling his lungs: vanilla musk and jasmine.

He turned to you, chestnut eyes boring into your gaze, as he released his dart. If this were a movie, he would’ve made the shot. But it wasn’t, and he didn’t. Instead, the dart fell to the ground, and you couldn’t help but laugh. Eddie was entranced all the same.

“Already losing, and you haven’t even joined the game,” you swallowed harshly. Teasing him to cover how his gaze was affecting you once more.

The game continued like this, each of you trying to distract the other, but in the end, you had won, much to Eddie’s chagrin. Beth cheered from her seat, nearly falling off the barstool in her excitement.

“Looks like you owe me that pina colada,” you raised your eyebrows smugly as you looked at him.

“Fuck me,” Eddie grumbled to himself.

Getting your drinks wasn’t an issue; the issue was having to talk to the bartender. Violet Jennings had a massive crush on him since the second grade, one that never faded or wavered, and every time he was in the bar, her eyes remained glued to him. It might even be cute if she weren’t so intense.

As he approached, Violet dropped everything she was doing and walked to where he stood. The only thing separating them was the wood of the bar top.

“What can I get you, Eddie,” she said his name. Breathy and affected.

“Uh,” he cleared his throat, his cheeks turning pink because he could feel you and Beth watching him—your giggles carrying through the air.

“Can I get a pina colada, a gin and tonic, and just a pint of whatever is on tap?”

“Whatever you desire,” she nodded her head and jutted her chest out, but Eddie didn’t dare glance down. No matter how great her cleavage may be.

She began to prepare his order, and he looked toward your table, you and Beth throwing him a thumbs up. He rolled his eyes and shook his head, tapping his fingers against the bar as he waited.

“Here you are, on the house of course.” She winked at him. It wasn’t his newfound fame that got the drinks but her neverending crush.

“Thanks,” he tilted his chin towards her as he grabbed the glasses. Doing his best not to drop the drinks.

“Here you go, assholes,” he murmured as he pushed the drinks onto the table. You excitedly grabbed for yours, humming as the sugary drink slid against your tongue and the rum burned your throat.

“We won these fair and square,” Beth argued and took a sip of her drink, shooting him a glare.

“No, Sunshine here won them fair and square. You just made her do your bidding.”

“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes and looked over at the bar. Spotting the girl she’d spent the night with three weeks ago. Her eyebrow raised, a warm feeling settling into her stomach as she recalled that night.

“This a snooze,” she looked at you both before jumping from her seat and walking towards the girl. You chuckled as you watched her leave, sauntering to the brunette whose name you still did not know.

You looked back at Eddie, a smile still wide on your lips.

“Did you ever hear back about the contest,” he asked suddenly, feigning disinterest.

“No,” you sighed, “but it was a long shot anyway. Plus, in what world would I go on a date with Steve Harrington.”

“You say his name like he’s some god,” he scoffed.

“Shut up, I do not,” you grumbled, cheeks growing warm.

“Y’know there’s better guys out there than some lame actor, right?”

“Eddie, you act like even if I had a date with Steve, that he’d be interested in me. I wouldn’t measure up to the models and actresses he’s dated.”

“He’d be an idiot if he wasn’t interested.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest, and you struggled to respond. Settling on deflecting instead of overthinking what he said.

He’s your best friend; of course, he’s going to say that.

“Yeah, well, I don’t have to worry about hypotheticals and whether or not he would or wouldn’t be interested because I didn’t win. Now enough about me,” you nudged him, “You need to do something with the attention Corroded Coffin has now,” you urged.

“I want to,” he closed his eyes for a moment and sighed, “but I just don’t wanna make the wrong move, and what if no one is interested?”

“There is plenty of interest. Did you not see the size of the crowd?” You waved your arms around the room.

“Yeah, from fans, but that doesn’t mean a record executive will be interested,” he gulped his beer down.

“You are stubborn as always,” you tilted your head up and looked back at him.

“Submit the demos. The worst that someone can say is no, and you’ll still have the growing fanbase if they do.”

You looked at him with pleading eyes, and he shook his head.

“Stop,” he pushed your face away, “you make that face, and I fold.”

You beamed and grabbed onto his arm, taking note of how his bicep felt beneath your fingers.

“Please, please listen to me, Eddie. I know your big break is around the corner, and when you make it, the only thing I ask is that you remember little ol’ me when you’re jetting around the world or marrying Heidi Klum.”

“Who?”

It was your turn to push his head away.

“Just promise?” you held a pinky finger up. It was his turn to make a pact.

“I promise,” his pinky circled yours and you kissed the other side of your hand, gaze never leaving his. Wishing that it was his lips that you were kissing instead.

The next morning you woke up, head a little heavy from the alcohol you drank and dragging ass to the restroom to start getting ready for work.

You started the shower, turning the nob until it was nearly scalding, just how you liked it. Steam already filling the small bathroom when you stepped behind the shower curtain. You hummed as you worked the shampoo into your scalp, thinking of all you had to do at work. Creating a grocery list in your head for when you got off and went to the grocery store.

It was a Friday night, movie night with your two best friends, and it was your turn to host. You debated whether to torture Eddie with another rom-com starring your favorite actor or if you should give in and watch one of his favorites. You always chose based on what was easiest to make themed foods for and never found it easy to make anything around any of the horror movies Eddie loved.

The sound of someone pulling near your trailer interrupted your thoughts and caused you to stop humming as you listened closely. You could hear car doors slam shut and the sound of footsteps approaching.

You rinsed your hair, shut off the water, and stepped out into the cold air.

What the hell?

A sharp rap at the door startled you and you hugged your towel close, quickly darting to your room to change so you could answer the door.

You took hesitant steps, pressing your body against the wood and peering through the peephole. A woman stood on the other side, preening as she waited for you to answer.

Slowly you opened the door, poking only your head out.

“Can I help you?”

She said your name excitedly, and your eyebrows pushed together, unsure how she knew you or your full name.

“Yes?”

“I’m Vanessa with WRTV!”

“Okay?”

Everything came out like a question because why was she here?

“I’m here to interview you about winning a date with Steven Harrington,” she beamed, cameraman rushing up behind her. Lens focused on you.

“I won?” Your eyes bulged, and you threw the door open.

“Congratulations!”

You squealed and jumped in place excitedly, wet hair sending droplets of water in the air.

People began to poke their heads outside their doors at the ruckus and the scene of news trucks outside your trailer. All the neighbors stared including Eddie.

“Eddie, I won!” You turned to him and invited him over, but with the camera pointed at you, he only arched a curious brow.

Usually, you’d shrink away from the attention, but as you prattled through Vanessa’s interview questions, all you could think about was your luck.

How you’d just won a date with Steve Harrington.

next>

tag list: @ali-r3n, @12thatsanumber, @lonely-phantoms, @Chickocrit

Request to be added to tag list here 🩵

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sanjoongie · 9 months ago

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𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕋𝕨𝕖𝕝𝕧𝕖: 𝕄𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕪 𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕜

🥀Au: Fanboy Au, Fanfic smut writer! Wooyoung, Idol! Reader

🥀Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x Reader (f)

🥀Genre: Smut

🥀Rating: 18+, Minors Do not Interact

🥀Author's note: the following takes place within a world where Wooyoung is a smut fanfic writer and you, an idol pretending to be a male called 'Mingi' and his bias, are his friend

🥀Trope: loser to lover

🥀Summary: wooyoung is just a loser guy in the 2000's and you're the hot 2000's girl that's considering letting him go down on you... at a cost, of course

🥀Kinks: Mommy Kink, oral (f), face sitting, degradation kink, smothering kink, bdsm safe signals to stop and go, inexperienced! woo, experienced! reader, sub! wooyoung, dom! reader, riding Wooyoung's nose

🥀Word Count: 1,278

🥀Betas: @mejuii

🥀Day Eleven: Somnophilia 🥀Mini Masterlist 🥀Day Thirteen: Uniform

You took a deep breath. It wasn’t like you hadn't read some of Wooyoung’s stuff already, you had been hella curious after seeing Hongjoong’s nsfw fanart. So you just put yourself in the mindset that Fleur, which was your stage name, was you and the male reader was Wooyoung, because why not? And then you began to read.

📼Wooyoung’s Fanfic☎

All Wooyoung wanted to do was go to the cute candy store and get something to munch on while he gamed later tonight. Yeosang bought the new Twisted Metal Black game, and he invited him and San to play. It was just supposed to be a drive there in his Ford Focus, pick up the snacks, and then get out of there. But for the past twenty minutes straight, he couldn't stop looking at the barbed wire tattoo that was peeking out of the cashier’s short shorts as she restocked some of the bins.

When you turned around and noticed the nerd in glasses was staring at you, you rolled your eyes dramatically. “Take a picture. It’ll last longer.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Wooyoung stuttered and proceeded to drop the bags that he had already made. The various jelly beans, soft gummies, and gumballs spilled all over the floor.

You snapped a bubble of gum angrily. “Really? A couple minutes before closing, and you’re gonna do this to me?”

You spun around to go find the broom. This was the worst shift you had ever had, and once you had to entertain a birthday party of four year olds with sticky hands.

“Wait, I can help!” Wooyoung chased after you. Your annoyance, your anger, was making him feel some kinda way.

“Don’t bother,” you spat over your shoulder, “You’ve already made a mess. Probably would make it worse.”

Wooyoung couldn't help but pursue you, like a moth to a flame. He couldn't pull himself from you.

So when you stopped abruptly and smacked into the back of you, yelping in surprise, you couldn't help your own burst of anger. You pushed him by his shoulders. “Get away from me, you freak!” You shouted in disgust.

“I can make it up to you!” Wooyoung pleaded desperately.

His glasses had fallen off when you pushed him. You tilted your head. Wait… was he kinda… hot?

You pulled your hot pink Razr phone from your back pocket and pushed the side button to see the time. It was closing time. So you stomped over to the front, flipped the sign from open to close, and then went back to Wooyoung, who was still lying in the center of the aisle with his candies all across the floor.

“You’re probably only good for creaming in your own pants,” You sneered. Wooyoung stared up at you with his mouth open in surprise. You shoved his glasses back on his face. “Prove me wrong.”

“Yes, Mommy,” dropped from his lips before his mind could catch up. “I mean!--” His face was red with embarrassment.

You rolled your eyes but began to unbutton your shorts. “I knew you were a freak. Do you know how to give head or not?” You huffed.

Wooyoung pushed his glasses up his nose, still in shock. “I--I don’t think I--”

You let out a noise of frustration, having unzipped your shorts and revealed the black thong underneath. “Nevermind, I should have known better.”

“No please!” Wooyoung protested, a hand reaching up to halt you from doing back up your pants. “You can sit on my face, right? I can try? Please, I want to try.”

“God, you really are THAT desperate for pussy?” You demanded.

Wooyoung swallowed, and you watched his Adam’s apple bob.

“Fine,” you grumbled, “But you’re going to call me Mommy, like earlier. You know to tap once to go and tap twice to stop, right? What am I saying? You don’t know shit. Listen, I am going to grind my pussy on your face and hope for the best okay? If you can’t breathe just tap my thigh twice and I’ll let up.”

Wooyoung nodded his head so enthusiastically that you thought his glasses were going to fall off again.

As it turned out, Wooyoung’s nose was perfect for grinding on. He clumsily licked at your wet folds, slurping and moaning, which only added to the allure of allowing some virgin nerd to eat you out. His arms wound around your legs, his fingers sometimes tracing the raised bumps of your barbed wire tattoo.

Just to test out if Wooyoung had actually listened to you, you sat down harder on his face, covering his nose and mouth with your cunt, bucking your hips into his nose and tongue, watching with cruel eyes as his breath was cut off. Wooyoung’s eyes widened, but his tongue didn’t stop, and you were actually impressed. Eventually, you felt a tap tap on your tattoo, and you eased up.

“Please, Mommy, do that again,” Wooyoung begged.

“I don’t think you can handle it.”

Wooyoung practically shoved his face into your cunt, tongue flat and head worrying on your clit. You gasped as he actually showed some brains, alreading picking up some technique as you grinded against his face after hours in the candy shop.

You grasped his long hair tightly, keeping him buried in your pussy. “Can you even get Mommy off with that clumsy tongue of yours?” You cooed mockingly, “Am I going to have to do all the work myself?”

Wooyoung whimpered, and you glanced over your shoulder. His baggy jeans were tented, and he was humping the air for some friction.

“Poor baby, you got a hard on? Guess you'll have to deal because Mommy always comes first, right?”

Wooyoung nodded, nudging the bridge of his nose against your clit and making you moan. He tapped twice again and when he pulled away the second time, he was gasping and his face was an absolute mess. And if you were being honest, he looked hot and debauched with his glasses fogged up.

You rode Wooyoung’s face until you came, your thighs shuddering under his arms and his chest swelled with pride as your wetness spread across his tongue and he lapped it all up, making happy, eager noises. You pushed his head back with a French tip manicure in the middle of his forehead before he started to make you feel sensitive.

You pushed upwards to get up, but Wooyoung's arms clung to you. “Liked sucking Mommy’s candy that much?” You mocked him.

“Please give me your number,” Wooyoung begged, all semblance of pride gone.

“Mmm, I don't think so, loser,” you declined. You untangled yourself from him. You adjusted your thong, careful of your freshly eaten out pussy and pulled your shorts back on.

“I'll do anything,” Wooyoung insisted, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

“Please don't make this more awkward than it already is,” you said with a look of disgust.

“I'll come back every day and you can smother me with your pussy,” Wooyoung pleaded. “Mommy,” he added belatedly.

Well, there were perks to having a guy eager to eat you out every day.

🎤Back to Reality✍️

“Hey,” Your group mate patted your shoulder. “It's your turn to get your hair done.”

You smiled shakily and tried really hard not to squeeze your thighs together. Your next few hours of filming your music video were going to be torture. But if you just thought about how happy Wooyoung would be that you beta read for him, it would be worth it.

And maybe if you slipped in a little something about androids, Wooyoung would think he manifested it in your new music video.

🥀Day Eleven: Somnophilia 🥀Mini Masterlist 🥀Day Thirteen: Uniform

this au is always for @smallfrye, she claims it, it's hers 💞

#joongfryefff24 #kvanity #kwritersworldnet #pirateeznet #cultofdionysusnet #ateez smut #jung wooyoung smut #atz smut #wooyoung smut #topaz's work #ღatz #fanboys au

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ameagrice · 1 month ago

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THE WANDERER

[jeremy frazier][BEETLEJUICE BEETLEJUICE spinoff]

It’s the year 1999, and Sadie Fells is up and hauled across the United States to a little town by the name of Winter River. Starting at a new school is nerve-wracking enough, and Jeremy Frazier seems intent on spinning her world around just a little more. She doesn’t ever expect him to end her life, nor to be housebound with him in the afterlife.

chapter one: little sadie, it’s 1999

summary: in 2024, sadie contemplates the comings and goings of her life, beginning with the day everything changed—the day she met Jeremy Frazier.

chapter two: sugar cookies and christmas trees

summary: it’s the christmas month of 1999, and what better way to spend it than stuck indoors with her best friend, his stressed mom, and his drunkard father?

chapter three: turn of the century

summary: new years comes and goes with little trouble. sadie takes a trip to montana with jeremy and his parents, celebrating the turn of the century of 2000, where something is bothering jeremy. refusing to back down, she confronts him, and sees a side to him she never thought could exist.

chapter four: graduation gowns

summary: the final year of high school quickly approaches, but something isn’t right, and sadie finds herself unable to shake the feeling. as the seasons pass, and she celebrates 2001’s new years alone, tensions grow between jeremy and his family. sadie begs him to attend graduation.

chapter five: party like it’s the last night of your life

summary: with one singular goal in mind, sadie heads over to jeremy’s house to make amends…the biggest mistake of her life.

#beetlejuice beetlejuice #beetlejuice #jeremy frazier #jeremy frazier x reader #jeremy frazier x oc #beetlejuice fic #beetlejuice beetlejuice fic #tim burton #horror comedy

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b3llawr1tes · 4 months ago

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THE HEIGHT OF SUMMER matt sturniolo.

summary : you meet a boy at a party under not very nice circumstances. ! angelina's character is you, i hate the y/n thing. imagine you're her !

disclaimer : no nsfw content, just some fluff, alcohol & drug use (not heavy), smoking, swearing, everyone is over 18

— PART ONE

it was a very hot summer evening in california. today i went to the beach with some of my friends. just hung out then came back home. i’ve always loved the beach. the sound of the ocean and the waves always made my mind calm down. i’ve been living alone for a year now and honestly, it wasn’t at all what i was expecting. i was doing great.

i had troubles with depression and addiction ever since i was young, but somehow it got better now. and my bad mental health wasn’t because of my parents, don’t get me wrong. and not because of my siblings either. i love them all very much. i’m beyond grateful for everything they’ve done for me.

but enough about my past. i got back from the beach around 7 pm and i was waiting for my friend natalie to come over. we had a party we were invited to, lucas, one of our friends decided to throw a huge back to summer party, as garduates. i was so excited.

i took a shower, i walked up to the bathroom’s sink where my phone lit up, revealing a text message from natalie, by bestest of by best friends.

natalie

hey girl are you ready for this??

i looked at the message and chuckled. nat could always make me smile no matter the circumstances. she was always so hype, i became excited too.

yesss!! when u coming?

natalie

be there in 10 put on some music xx

i closed my phone and got dressed. i was already blasting my music from the big speaker in my living room i bought when i was 16. back then i felt like i was the coolest and honestly i was. and i still am. i was listening to some 2000’s girl music like britney spears, nelly furtado, rihanna etc., one of my favorite types of music.

i sang along to the lyrics while i chose my outfit for the night which consisted of a pair of baggy jeans, a brown belt i got from my dad and just a basic black shirt. my makeup wasn’t anything worth mentioning, but i felt good about myself in it and that’s what matters.

natalie arrived, i greeted her with a big smile, showing off my outfit before she did too. we took a few shots, talked about some random things, then i got my shit together and we were ready to go. natalie texted jake, one of our friends, who was supposed to pick us up, that we were ready and in less than 10 minutes we were blasting music in the car, with him, feeling the party spirit.

“are you girls ready for this? whoooo!” jake yelled and we both yelled back a ‘yes’.

i looked outside the window when a slowed song started playing, looking at the flashing lights, all the people we were passing by, thinking about how beautiful life is when you have people you can have fun with. and how excited i was to meet so many new people tonight. we were just a few minutes late, and when we got there we all got out of the car which was parked perfectly between two others.

“this is sooo fun. do you have a cigarette jake?” nat asked. i just laughed while the blonde haired boy handed her one.

we walked up to the house, and there were people already passed out on the front garden, some still drinking. thank god we weren’t surrounded by so many neighbours. when we got to the door, jake opened it and my eyes widened. there were people everywhere. mostly in the living room on the so-called ‘dance floor’ dancing to some 2010’s music.

now this is a party.

“this is fucking insane. let me find drew.” jake said then walked to the back and out to the backyard.

“i think he likes you.” i said to nat, trying really hard not to yell so loud, but that was nearly impossible.

“what? no he doesn’t.” said the girl.

“i saw the way he looked at you. you should make a move.” i said.

“nah, you’re delusional, but thanks. let’s find the alcohol shall we?” natalie asked and grabbed my hand, leading me towards the kitchen.

louder music filled my ears as we found the place we were looking for, many bottles of many things in front of our eyes. to be honest i wasn’t the biggest drinker, only occasionally like this time. only when there was a party going on. so i let my friend choose whatever she wanted to drink.

she wanted to take shots.

so we took a few more shots before going to the living room. one of our favorite songs started playing.

“oh my god this is our song you hear that?” i yelled to my friend who looked at me with the biggest smile i’ve ever seen jumping up and down in excitement.

“yes, let’s dance!” she said.

so we did. we danced our heart out to be honest, i danced until my feet couldn’t handle it anymore, drinking whatever nat was drinking, feeling like this night will last forever. i went outside to have some fresh air fill my lungs, while natalie went to find jake who was smoking somewhere in the backyard.

i took a deep breath and let the air fill my lungs. i opened my eyes and realized i couldn’t really stand on my feet anymore. i could still feel the alcohol in my system but not as much as i did an hour ago. thankfully. i tried sitting down on one of the chairs out there, but my legs said no so i almost fell backwards, into the house through the big glass door.

“woah! you good?” someone asked from behind me, balancing me back on to my feet before i could fall.

“yeah thanks.” i said, sitting down, finally, with the help of this someone.

i brushed my hair out of my face, and looked up at the person.

“are you really drunk?” he asked, before i could even process his presence.

“a bit. i was just dancing for so long my legs gave up on me.” i said, laughing. he did too.

i tried focusing my eyes on him. he had brown hair, kind of falling in front of his face a little bit. fluffy. good. he also had blue eyes, and what i liked about them is they looked tired. so hot. he also had a sculpture-like face, his jawline sharp. he had a beautiful smile, i felt lucky i could see it.

“that’s cool. are you alone?” he asked.

“why you wanna kidnap me?” i asked back.

“no, no no no, sorry that came out wrong. i just don’t want you to get lost or hurt you know?”

that’s cute. but i just couldn’t take my eyes off his tattoo’s covering one of his arms.

“yeah, thanks. i’m with two of my friends. i also know quite a few people in there.” i said, pointing inside with my head.

“okay.”

“who are you here with?” i asked.

“my brothers.”

“i love that. well, have fun mysterious guy, maybe fate will bring us back together. i’m going to find my friend. have a nice night!” i said, standing back up, going inside.

“try not to fall next time!” he yelled after me, and i smiled to myself.

that was what you call a meet-cute? i have no idea, i just wanted to find natalie. i found her talking to jake in one of the living room’s corner. i went up to them.

“what you got there?” i asked them looking at their cups.

“straight up vodka girly, you want some?” the black haired girl asked, handing me the alcohol.

the cup was almost full, so i decided to down it. i thought ‘when if not now? also we only live once don’t we?’ so i just handed the empty cup back to her with a big smile on my face trying to hide the fact that vodka by itself tastes terrible.

“i just met the hottest boy outside. you won’t believe it.” i yelled.

“what? really? who is he?” my friend asked.

“i don’t know. mystery guy. couldn’t ask for his name.”

before nat could speak up, jake did.

“then snort this and you’ll basically see him everywhere.”

i thought for a second. i knew it was cocaine. have i done it before? yes. twice. once i didn’t want to, once i did. one time it was good, one time it wasn’t. but it was a back to summer party, everyone’s only goal was to get drunk and high. and who was i to decline that? plus nat always tries to include herself so that i wasn’t alone in all these.

so we both did a line.

i inhaled, then exhaled. i grabbed my girlfriend’s hand and pulled her onto the dance floor. my legs felt sore, but not too sore to the point where i couldn’t dance. i could always dance. so we did. for another hour. i felt the drug hit me, bright lights everywhere. the music filled my whole body. i was loudly singing the lyrics. it felt like what i imagine heaven to feel like.

then i opened my eyes and didn’t know here i was.

i knew i was still at the party, but i was outside. the last thing i could remember was me and nat walking out of the house into the front yard, but now i was alone. i tried calling her phone. no answer. i felt horrible. i think was even standing next to my own puke. i tried calling jake. no answer. what the fuck? where are they?

then i turned around to see three people walk out of the house. one of them i could recognize as the mysterious boy i talked to ouside earlier. but then… i could recognize all of them. all of them looked like that one guy. wait. what? i thought i was hallucinating thanks to the drug i took before, but no. i wasn’t.

“do you guys seriously look the same?” i asked, walking up to them.

“yeah?” the one in the middle asked with a focused look on his face.

“that’s crazyyyy.” i added.

“oh hey, you’re the girl who was dancing until her legs gave up right?” the guy i “knew” asked.

“yeah, yeah.”

“you know her matt?” the third oy asked.

“oh yeah we met earlier what’s up?” matt asked.

“my friends ditched me. i don’t know where they are they aren’t picking up the phone and i’m panicking a little bit.” i said the truth.

“hey it’s okay. maybe we can give you a ride home. you live far?” asked matt again.

“not really. i would really appreciate that if i’m not asking too much.” i just wanted to go home at this point.

matt looked at his brothers. both of them nodded and started walking towards where the cars were parked. i stayed behind with matt.

“so matt is your name.” i said.

“yep.”

“is this fate then?” i asked, looking at him with a smile.

“i guess so.” he chuckled, unlocking the car.

i don’t even know why, but even that simple action, the way he did it was attractive.

i opened the car’s door and got in, closing it behind me. matt was the one driving. wait. am i getting into a car with someone who just drank alcohol?

“are you sober matt?”

“yes. i don’t drink alcohol. nice you even thought about that.” he said.

“sorry, yeah, just making sure.”

the boy with the longest hair sat in front of me, next to me the third brother. triplets. that’s cool. the guy in front was talking to matt, while next to me, the boy was on his phone, not paying attention. i wasn’t either. i was really tired.

i was looking outside the window. watching the lights pass by, as well as the people, and all the shops. i tried thinking about something that won’t put me into sleep, i mean they didn’t even knew where i lived.

but i guess i failed because i woke up in a room i didn’t even recognize. at all.

. . .

thank you guys so much for reading the first part of my

matt story! i hope you like it! it would mean the world to

me if even just one person liked it! i hope i can continue

with this soon, until then don’t forget to be happy and be

kind! love you all <3

#the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo #matt stuniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #fanfic #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity

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justinspoliticalcorner · 2 days ago

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Hugh Dougherty at The Daily Beast:

Jeffrey Epstein described himself as Donald Trump’s “closest friend” and claimed intimate knowledge of his proclivity for sex, including cuckolding his best friends, according to recordings obtained exclusively by the Daily Beast. The convicted pedophile even boasted of his closeness to Trump and his now-wife Melania by claiming, “the first time he slept with her was on my plane,” which was dubbed the Lolita Express.

Epstein spoke at length about Trump with the author Michael Wolff in August 2017, two years before being found dead in his jail cell. Wolff was researching his bombshell bestseller Fire and Fury at the time. The recordings cast more light on Trump’s long relationship with Epstein, and will add to debate over the character of the Republican candidate, especially his attitudes and conduct toward women, just days before the election. The tapes tell Epstein’s version of the relationship between two former friends and their very different paths: One toward infamy, prison and suicide; the other toward power, the Oval Office and his own criminal conviction for paying hush money to a porn star. Trump’s camp referred to the tapes’ release as “false smears” and “election interference.” The tapes also offer unusual insight into the friendship of two wealthy, powerful men who frequently went out on the town together, prowling for women in New York and Atlantic City. [...]

Asked by Wolff, “How do you know all this?” Epstein replied, “I was Donald’s closest friend for 10 years.” Wolff shared the tape with the Daily Beast ahead of discussing it on his Fire and Fury podcast on Monday. Last Thursday he caused shockwaves by revealing a few seconds of a separate recording in which Epstein spoke in detail about the inner workings of the Trump administration. Wolff also said Thursday that the pedophile showed off photos of Trump with topless young women sitting in his lap. Wolff, a veteran journalist and author who was also the biographer of Rupert Murdoch, has long attracted praise and bromides. When Fire & Fury was published in January 2018, Trump tried to stop it with a failed cease and desist order, then threatened to sue. No case ever materialized, and it sold 5 million copies worldwide. Wolff, who appears regularly on his Fire and Fury podcast, wrote two more books on Trump after Fire and Fury, and about Epstein in 2021’s Too Famous.

Wolff says he has up to 100 hours of recordings of interviews with Epstein, including from using him as a source for Fire and Fury, and from years of meetings when the disgraced financier appeared to want Wolff to write a biography of him. Wolff said he decided to release parts of the archive after a new accuser, a former Miss Switzerland, alleged last week that Trump had groped her in 1992.

[...] Trump’s long friendship with Epstein, which spanned the late 1980s, 1990s and early 2000s has been well documented. In the 1990s, the two publicly partied at Mar-a-Lago and went to a Victoria’s Secret Angels show together. In 2002, Trump told New York Magazine of Epstein, “I’ve known Jeff for 15 years. Terrific guy. He’s a lot of fun to be with. It is even said that he likes beautiful women as much as I do, and many of them are on the younger side.” Epstein’s infamous leaked addressbooks had Trump’s own phone number as well as Melania’s, while Trump’s name appeared seven times in the passenger logs of Epstein’s planes. (The books and logs also included princes, politicians and potentates such as Bill Clinton, former British prime minister Tony Blair, former Israeli PM Ehud Barak, Prince Andrew and celebrities and billionaires including Mick Jagger and Les Wexner.)

[...] In 2022 Ghislaine Maxwell, Epstein’s former girlfriend who procured him underage girls, would be sentenced to 20 years in federal prison for the sex trafficking of minors. Upon hearing of her arrest in 2020, Trump, then president, said he wished her well. “Her friend or boyfriend was either killed or committed suicide in jail. Yeah, I wish her well… Good luck.” In 2004, Epstein and Trump fell out when they both tried to buy a Palm Beach estate, Maison de L’Amitié, out of bankruptcy. The next year, the FBI began investigating Epstein for child sex trafficking.

In 2019, on the day after Epstein’s arrest, Trump said in the Oval Office, “I was not a fan of his, that I can tell you,” and that they had not been friends for 15 years. He said it “did not much matter” what the fall-out had been over. This September, asked about Epstein by the tech podcaster Lex Fridman, Trump said: “He was a good salesman. He was a hailing, hearty type of guy. He had some nice assets that he’d throw around like islands, but a lot of big people went to that island. But fortunately, I was not one of them.”

[...]

The Epstein tape includes an allegation—which is impossible to verify—that Trump had an affair with a politician while in the White House. Epstein offered no proof or sourcing for the claim. He also alleged that Trump cheated on both his first wife Ivana and second wife Marla Maples with “a Black girl.” At one section, Epstein used a Yiddish racial slur to refer to Black women and alleged Trump boasted to him, “I’m f---ing all these Black women.” The tape mixes sexual allegations with other aspects of Trump’s life. Early in the recording Epstein is heard to say, “You probably know he had a scalp reduction. He’s getting the same male pattern baldness that we all have. He had his scalp reduced. It’s hysterical.” Trump has long refused to release full medical records while his White House medical reports did not disclose any prior surgeries.

“He’s charming. In a devious way, he’s charming. To some extent it’s a typical tragedy where he believes his own bulls---”

— Epstein on Trump

And Epstein offers his eyewitness account of Trump Tower and Trump’s office where, he said, Trump had “fake honors” on the wall. Trump, he claimed, would yell at his personal assistant Rhona Graff, “who’s a loyal, perfect, secretary,” as well as Matthew Calamari Snr., his bodyguard, and Michael Cohen, his attorney who is now an enemy. Epstein compared Trump to “an emotionally challenged 9-year-old,” and said, “He screams and yells at Rhona more than anybody else. His screaming is how he treats people. He has a tantrum, not a temper. If you don’t understand him, it’s frightening. Once you understand him, it’s sort of silly.” Epstein also told Wolff he had positive things to say about Trump. “He’s charming. In a devious way, he’s charming,” he said. “To some extent it’s a typical tragedy where he believes his own bulls---. He has delusions of grandiosity, then he takes it on board.” He added that he had a “self-deprecating nature” and was “not vulgar.” “He’s funny,” Epstein said. “Self-awareness means you’re self-aware. He’s aware of that person, Donald Trump. He talks about The Trump, The Trumpster. ‘Trump’s getting laid.’”

On the tape Epstein, speaking in a New York accent, also mentioned the rich and powerful. (In a deposition released after his death Epstein admitted under oath that he dropped the names of people he had never met.) The names he mentioned on tape include: Former president Bill Clinton; Ivanka Trump and her husband Jared Kushner; then-Defense Secretary James Mattis; and the billionaires Carl Icahn and Tom Barrack, both of whom are friends of Trump. Clinton was a long-standing friend of Epstein but has denied any association after the pedophile’s disgrace in the mid-2000s. Mattis has no known association with him. Ivanka was photographed with him as a child but Kushner has never been known to be linked to him. Barrack appeared in a leaked appointment diary for Epstein from 2016, while Carl Icahn, a corporate raider and long-time Trump friend, was in Epstein’s 1997 address book. Startlingly for a man who became one of the world’s most notorious sex offenders, Epstein on the tapes offers a damning judgment of Trump, telling Wolff, “The moral compass just does not exist.”

The Daily Beast reported that Jeffrey Epstein was Donald Trump's closest friend for about 10 years, according to tapes obtained from the outlet that featured Michael Wolff interviewing the late pedophile.

#Donald Trump #Epstein Tapes #Jeffrey Epstein #Michael Wolff #Lolita Express #Fire and Fury #Ghislaine Maxwell #Jeffrey Epstein Child Sex Abuse Scandal #The Daily Beast

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