#Home Addition Design In California

[greentechremo]

If you're looking to renovate your kitchen, we at Green Tech specialize in Kitchen Remodeling In California. Our team of experienced professionals is dedicated to providing quality and efficient services.

Contact us today to discuss your project and schedule a consultation.

[pacsands]

Home Remodel Designs | Pacific Sands Building Plans

Discover the art of home remodel designs with Pacific Sands Building Plans & Engineering in Southern California. Redesign and renovate your home to enhance its aesthetic appeal and functionality. Our website.

[rlbarchitecture]

Home Building Designing and Planning Service

Ready to create something extraordinary? Let's work together to turn your homebuilding vision into reality with our expert Home Designing and Planning Service. 

Our team of skilled architects and designers will work closely with you to create a space that reflects your unique style and meets your lifestyle needs. Whether it's a cozy cottage or a modern mansion, we have the expertise to make it happen.

Get in touch today to start building the home of your dreams!

[remodelingheroesberkeley]

Expanding Horizons: The Ultimate Guide to Room Additions

Thinking about expanding your living space? A room addition could be the perfect solution. Not only does it provide extra space for you and your family, but it can also significantly increase the value of your home. Here’s a little sneak peek into our ultimate guide on room additions.

Whether you’re dreaming of a larger kitchen, an extra bedroom, or a dedicated home office, a room addition can turn that dream into reality. However, it’s not something to be undertaken lightly. It requires careful planning, from understanding the local building codes to choosing the right design that matches your home’s style.

Our guide will walk you through the entire process, helping you make informed decisions every step of the way. We’ll cover everything from initial concept to final execution, including budgeting, selecting materials, and hiring the right professionals.

So, if you’re ready to expand your horizons and transform your home, stay tuned for our comprehensive guide on room additions. It’s time to create the space you’ve always wanted!

Remodeling Heroes

2150 Shattuck Ave. #510, Berkeley, CA 94704, United

(510) 313-2318

[cowboybabeop]

Vault-Tec Vaults; Game Origin & Location

Hi I'm going to back to my "Fallout Blog" roots. Here is a summary of all of the vaults and experiments (starting with a timeline) because I'm insane ^_^ I had to add a weird break bc I literally hit the tumblr character limit, but I used it to section off the major spoilers for the TV series :)

Timeline

The Great War: October 23rd, 2077

Fallout Bible: Compendium of added lore by the creators.

Fallout 76: 2102

Fallout 1: 2161 

Fallout Tactics: 2197

Fallout: Brotherhood of Steel: 2208

Fallout 2: 2241

Fallout 3: 2277

Fallout: New Vegas: 2281

Fallout 4: 2287

Fallout TV Series: 2296

Corporate Vault - Fallout: Brotherhood of Steel - Texas 

A control group vault meant for Vault-Tec employees to continue research, primarily on FEV (Forced Evolutionary Virus) during the war.

Vault 0 - Fallout Tactics - Colorado 

A control group vault with geniuses kept in cryogenic stasis, with their minds interlinked into an entity called The Calculator.

Vault 3 - Fallout: New Vegas - Nevada 

A control vault. Residents ended up opening the vault doors when the lower levels flooded. Eventually the vault was overrun by Fiends.

Vault 4 - Fallout TV series - California 

A test vault that was filled with residents prior to the bombs dropping. Experimentation on human subjects led to most of the original residents being killed in a revolt. In 2296 the vault is still thriving, while kidnapping surface survivors and continuing to experiment on them. The vault offered refuge for many inhabitants of Shady Sands.

Vault 8 (Vault City) - Fallout 2 - Nevada 

A control group vault that remained closed until 2241. Instead of receiving two G.E.C.K. (Garden of Eden Creation Kit) devices, Vault 8 received just one and a replacement water chip that was supposed to go to Vault 13.

Vault 11 - Fallout: New Vegas - Nevada 

Every year the residents were told to sacrifice a fellow resident, with the threat of everyone's death if they did not. In reality, the system would praise them for NOT sacrificing an individual and the vault door would be unlocked. This message finally played after only five residents remained.

Vault 12 - Fallout 1 - California 

A seemingly normal, safe vault with an ulterior motive to study the effects of radiation on the inhabitants. The door never fully sealed, and in 2083 the ghoul residents left to found Necropolis.

Vault 13 - Fallout 1 & Fallout 2- California 

Your home vault as the Vault Dweller. A rather normal vault, however due to a shipping mishap Vault 13 received an additional G.E.C.K. device (that was supposed to go to Vault 8) instead of a replacement water chip. Thus, leaving the Vault Dweller to leave the vault in search for a replacement when their only water chip breaks.

Vault 15 - Fallout 1 & Fallout 2 - California 

A vault that experimented with incredibly diverse ideologies and backgrounds. The vault became severely overpopulated in 2097 and the dwellers decided to open the door. Shady Sands was created using Vault 15's G.E.C.K. and the local raider gangs all have origins from this vault.

Vault 17 - Fallout: New Vegas - Mention Only 

Inhabitants were kidnapped and transformed into Super Mutants. Lily originates from this vault.

Vault 19 - Fallout: New Vegas - Somewhere in CA/NV/AZ/UT 

Paranoia was induced by noises, lights, and segregation. The vault was divided into two sections, Red and Blue, with a separate overseer for each sector.

Vault 21 - Fallout: New Vegas - Nevada 

An almost normal vault, with the exception of a culture and society built around gambling. All major decisions were made through gambling, with the decision to open the doors and become part of New Vegas being "won" in a game of Blackjack.

Vault 22 - Fallout: New Vegas - Somewhere in CA/NV/AZ/UT 

A vault dedicated to studying agriculture. A fungus designed to kill pests on plants became capable of infected human hosts. Vault 22 is curiously green on the outside by the time The Courier arrives at the location.

Vault 24 - Fallout: New Vegas - Mention Only 

Remnants of a Vault 24 jumpsuit are found in the FNV game files.

Vault 27 - Fallout Bible - Mention Only 

A vault designed to be deliberately overcrowded with not enough means to sustain the inhabitants.

Vault 29 - Fallout 76 - Mention Only 

Only children younger than 15 were allowed in this vault, with their parents being sent to other vaults. Harold is believed to originate from this vault.

//TV SHOW SPOILERS//

Vault 31 - Fallout TV Series - California 

Part of 3 interconnected vaults, serving as cryogenic home for the managers and higher ups of Vault-Tec.

Vault 32 - Fallout TV Series - California 

Part of 3 interconnected vaults, serving as a healthy breeding pool for Vault 31 and 33. Somewhere around 2294, Vault 32 failed and the residents resorted to murder, cannibalism, or suicide.

Vault 33 - Fallout TV Series - California 

Lucy MacLean's home vault. Part of 3 interconnected vaults, serving as a healthy breeding pool for Vault 31 and 32.

//END OF TV SHOW SPOILERS//

Vault 36 - Fallout Bible - Mention Only 

The only food in this vault consisted of thin, watery gruel.

Vault 34 - Fallout: New Vegas - Somewhere in CA/NV/AZ/UT 

The vault was purposefully overstocked with guns with the overseer being able to give/deny access to residents. This inevitably led to it's downfall, and those who revolted and raided the armory relocated above as The Boomers in 2231.

Vault 42 - Fallout Bible - Mention Only 

No lightbulbs over 40W were provided.

Vault 43 - Fallout Bible - Mention Only 

A vault containing 20 men, 10 women, and one panther.

Vault 51 - Fallout 76 - West Virginia 

A vault with a supercomputer as the overseer. Interference from the computer led to most of the residents being murdered by other residents.

Vault 53 - Fallout Bible - Mention Only  

Most equipment was designed to break down every few months in order to stress out inhabitants.

Vault 55 - Fallout Bible - Mention Only 

No entertainment tapes were provided.

Vault 56 - Fallout Bible - Mention Only 

The only entertainment tapes provided were of one terrible comedian.

Vault 63 - Fallout 76 - West Virginia 

The inside of the vault remains sealed, with the outside door being all that is accessible to the player character. Other parts of the vault are revealed through cut content.

Vault 65 - Fallout 76 - Mention Only 

Remnants of the vault remain in Fallout 76 cut content.

Vault 68 - Fallout Bible - Mention Only 

The vault contained 999 men and 1 woman.

Vault 69 - Fallout Bible - Mention Only 

The vault contained 999 women and 1 man.

Vault 75 - Fallout 4 - Massachusetts 

A secret experimenting in refining human genetics through selective breeding, genetic modification, and hormonal treatments. The vault's concept was made by Stanislaus Braun.

Vault 76 - Fallout 76 - West Virginia 

The home vault of the player character in 76. It was a control vault, set to open after 25 years. This is when the player character leaves the vault.

Vault 77 - Fallout 3 - Mention Only 

Mentioned by slavers in Paradise Falls, this vault was rumored to only contain one man and a box of puppets.

Vault 79 - Fallout 76 - West Virginia 

A vault dedicated to hoarding the country's gold reserves.

Vault 81 - Fallout 4 - Massachusetts 

Designed to develop a cure for every possible sickness or ailment. Residents were unknowingly sprayed with diseases by nozzles hidden in their rooms. The first vault overseer had thought this to be cruel, cut off the scientists from the rest of the vault and cut the nozzles from spraying residents before the experiments could begin.

Vault 87 - Fallout 3 - Somewhere in VA/PA/MD 

The original vault experiment for 87 was scrapped, and it became a research center for FEV, leaving the vault wildly radioactive and inhabited only by super mutants by the time you access it as the Lone Wanderer.

Vault 88 - Fallout 4 - Massachusetts 

An unfinished vault inhabited by ghouls.

Vault 92 - Fallout 3 - Somewhere in VA/PA/MD 

The best musicians were sent to this vault to "preserve musical talent", but truthfully residents were subjected to subliminal messages mixed into white noise. Eventually some of the musicians went into random, murderous, psychotic rages that led to the end of the experiment.

 Vault 94 - Fallout 76 - West Virginia 

A vault with non-violent faith-centric inhabitants. The vault opened one year later to search for survivors. The vault became overrun by wastelanders and raiders that destroyed their G.E.C.K. and their nuclear reactor. The vault was swarmed with radiation and is now overrun by mirelurks.

Vault 95 - Fallout 4 - Massachusetts 

A vault designed to get people clean and sober. After a successful 5 years, a Vault-Tec agent brought out a hidden stash of drugs for other residents to find.

Vault 96 - Fallout 76 - West Virginia 

A vault with a focus on agriculture, animals, genetics, and mutations. The original residents were killed in a failed escape attempt, and the vault was then used by West-Tek scientist Edgar Blackburn to continue research on FEV.

Vault 100 - Fallout 3 - Mention Only 

Remnants of Vault 100 can be found in game files and cut content.

Vault 101 - Fallout 3 - Somewhere in VA/PA/MD 

The home vault for the Lone Wanderer. This vault was meant to never open and Vault 101 did not receive a G.E.C.K. However, the overseer of the vault pretty quickly broke this rule and occasional survey teams were sent to the surface. Several residents of Megaton are the result of these survey teams. Daddy James found the vault after the birth of the Lone Wanderer and negotiated his doctoral services in exchange for shelter.

Vault 106 - Fallout 3 - Somewhere in VA/PA/MD 

Psychoactive drugs slowly released into the air of Vault 106, causing the vault to be filled with psychotic survivors by the time the Lone Wanderer visits.

Vault 108 - Fallout 3 - Somewhere in VA/PA/MD 

A slew of experiments occurred in this vault. The elected overseer was dying of cancer, the primary power supply of the vault was scheduled to fail after 20 years, the backup power supply would not be enough to power ALL of the vault, the vault was given three times the normal amount of weapons, and the vault was not given entertainment. With a majority of scientists, one of the inner experiments involved repeatedly cloning the same man... Gary.

Vault 111 - Fallout 4 - Massachusetts 

Your home vault as the Sole Survivor. All residents were meant to unknowingly stay in cryostasis, with scientists overlooking them. However, conflicts arose among those unfrozen, leading to the vault door eventually being opened.

Vault 112 - Fallout 3 - Somewhere in VA/PA/MD 

Residents lived in a virtual reality simulation to create their "perfect life" with their overseer, Stanislaus Braun, a scientist who proceeded to use the residents as playthings. Braun continuously murdered residents, then wiped their memories and reset the simulation.

Vault 114 - Fallout 4 - Massachusetts

 An unfinished vault meant for only the wealthy. Vault-Tec exaggerated the luxury of the vault, gave residents very small rooms, communal bathing and dining areas, and a homeless drug-addicted overseer named Soup Can Harry.

Vault 118 - Fallout 4 - Maine 

An Unfinished Vault meant to house both a handful of ultra-rich and hundreds of working class individuals to observe how they would interact within the same space.

Vault 120 - Fallout 4 & Fallout 76 - Mention Only 

The vault itself was meant to mimic the underwater atmosphere of Bioshock. The game was cut from Fallout 4, but remnants can be found in Fallout 76 game files.

[evan-collins90]

Home designed by Donald L. Maxcy (1990)

"A below-grade handball court turned "Raiders of the Lost Ark" temple—all things are possible with the sorcery of designer Donald Maxcy. A three-story structure in Pebble Beach, California was built on the site to include gymnasium, pool table, video room and nightclub. By day, sunlight warms the "temple" stairwell; by night, this same space is treated to theatrical lighting, conjuring up a sunset or shadows of jungle leaves. In the seating area, high color-rendering fluorescent lighting is artfully combined with planting in pockets of space built into the room. Mirrors back these alcoves, letting the eye wander into a grove of reflected trees. The coffee table conceals movie-theater-quality sound equipment to coordinate with the TV monitor hidden behind the filigree panel. Craftsmen in faux turned this unit to apparent stone. Their decorative archaeology includes sandstone cast rosettes and a subtle bas-relief of a foreign god." —Molly Siple

Description and photos scanned from a 1991 issue of Designer's West Magazine, additional photos scanned from the book Residential Lighting by Randall Whitehead

[shybunnie20]

Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

★My Masterlist

Summary: After some time in the spotlight, Eddie returns to Hawkins and finds that his unfinished confession to his best friend awaits him.

Author's Note: Here's a little something I wrote while I've been chipping away at my other WIPs. It’s way longer than I expected but I'm happy with how it turned out. The angst is very mild and it has a happy ending!

AU with no Upside Down, no use of y/n, established past friendship, Eddie and reader graduated the same year but ages aren't specified, focuses on Eddie's POV, proofread to an extent.

Word Count: 8.3k

Warnings: MDNI, mentions of sex, includes swearing

After posing for the cover of the latest Metal Edge magazine, Eddie was eager to head back home ASAP. While he enjoys his time on the East Coast, he was really looking forward to some much-needed downtime. As he boarded his private jet and set off, everything was going according to plan. However, the weather decided that he was going to make a pit stop. Rather, an emergency landing.

Plans get derailed and unpredictability is a part of the lifestyle. When your private jet is just about plucked from the sky during a lightning storm, finding a place to land is imperative, no matter the location. In this instance, his jet touched down in Indianapolis. Hopes of catching a taxi to Hawkins were dashed. No taxi driver in their right mind would willingly brave the distance from the city to the suburb in that weather. Eddie was left with one person to call upon—the man whom Eddie had been considering visiting for quite some time.

Wayne was surprised to receive the phone call but he agreed to pick Eddie up from the airport without hesitation. They haven’t been staying in touch as of late; Eddie’s life is nothing short of a whirlwind consisting of sold-out arenas and constant travel. Getting a hold of his nephew became a challenging feat. Wayne rarely got past speaking to Eddie’s assistants.

It was his uncle’s rare day off and calls at that time of night were few and far between. So, when Wayne’s canary yellow phone practically leaped off of the hook, he was astonished. After making the drive through the pattering rain, Wayne retrieved a sulking Eddie from Concourse B. As Eddie settled into the passenger seat of the fixer-upper, exhaustion from his turbulent journey was evident.

The next morning, Eddie wakes up with a protesting ache in his lower back, the result of a night spent on the pull-out couch. As he sits up straight, he lets out a low groan, vocalizing how his body yearns for the luxurious embrace of the Egyptian cotton sheets that are fitted around his California king mattress. They lay chilled without him, thousands of miles away in his opulent hillside mansion in Beverly Hills.

As he stretches in an attempt to unknot the tension between his shoulder blades, Eddie takes in his surroundings. He stumbled through the front door so late last night that he had no energy left to get reacquainted with his childhood home. He even wound up sleeping in his designer jeans, the coarse denim a far cry from the plush pajamas he would normally change into before bed.

A gentle grin forms on Eddie’s lips upon feeling comforted by the familiarity of the room. He hadn’t realized how much he missed the simple life that Wayne brought him up in. Eddie gazes around, noticing the subtle changes such as the addition of new mugs and hats to their respective displays. One particular change catches his attention and draws a fond exhale from his stale lungs. The worn-out doormat, which was torn to hell when he was a teenager, was finally replaced.

Despite his internal clock being out of whack, Eddie’s brain knows when it’s time for a cup of jitter juice. He rises from the rickety mattress, his back cracking loudly at the extension. A moan of discomfort slips out as he winces at the pinch at the base of his neck. “Jesus, fuck,” he mutters aloud. Eddie makes a mental note to buy Wayne a new sofa.

His socked feet slide across the linoleum as he steps into the kitchen. He notices that the bedroom door is closed, though it’s doing very little to dampen the loud snoring emitting behind it. Eddie yawns as he grinds his fists into his eyes, causing a splash of tingling colors across the darkness of his lids. He approaches the corner cupboard, knowing that what he’s looking for will be in the same place it always has been. The cabinet door greets him with a squeak and he’s met with a single dented can of Folgers. That shit is practically varnish remover, it simply won’t do.

Eddie sighs as the craving for his favorite Italian coffee intensifies. It’s so rich, flavorful, smooth, and yet, it packs a punch. Just the thought of the hazelnut dark roast takes him back to the first time he ever tried it in Trieste. From that moment on, he needed it imported back home.

Well, the java situation is a bust. For the time being, Eddie has a choice. Either charred slices of Wonderbread or plain cornflakes. AKA, buttered plywood or a bowl of sawdust. Ew and ew. Settling for the arguably more exciting option, Eddie decides on toast. Each bite into the brittle slice causes dark crumbs to scatter into his open palm that he holds beneath his chin. He can’t be bothered to get a plate, even as an adult. The burnt bits accumulate in his hand as he continues to nibble. While Eddie brushes his palms over the sink to rid himself of crumbs, he catches sight of the magazine clipping held to the fridge door by a Tweety Bird magnet. Frozen in time on glossy paper is a photo of him at the American Music Awards last year. “Damn, I looked good.” He smirks as he recalls the tailored suit, the lapels encrusted with dazzling gems, and his pale bare chest blinding the paparazzi from beneath it. The memories of that night come rushing, the flashing cameras and the cheers of his fans.

With his tummy partially pleased but the craving for quality coffee intensifying, Eddie recalls that there’s only one good place around here to get a quality cup of Joe. Eddie takes a brisk shower to wash away the residual stickiness that clings to his skin from a night spent fully clothed in the stuffy trailer. He dresses in the most pedestrian outfit that’s in his suitcase, hoping to blend in as much as possible, and heads out. 

Eddie’s stride carries him through the glass door of Morningside Café, the cheerful bell above it announces his arrival. The café is bustling, as one would expect on a Saturday morning. The patrons have come for their morning pick-me-up, much like Eddie.

Initially, he considers keeping his onyx-lensed sunglasses on, a barrier that would shield him from potential recognition and the commotion that would ensue. But he decides to take them off, knowing that he might stick out if he’s wearing sunglasses indoors. Eddie tucks one of the folded arms of the frame into the collar of his t-shirt. To his surprise, nobody reacts. No one gasps or falls to their knees at his feet. The world around him continues to turn. Part of him yearns for the ego boost that comes with being recognized but, all in all, he’s relieved to experience a semblance of normalcy for the first time in what feels like an eternity.

Taking a moment to soak in his surroundings, Eddie’s gaze sweeps across the interior of the shop. His eyes linger on the display case where flaky pastries drizzled with chocolate and caramel sauces are housed. The cabin-esque aesthetic warms the soul with rich wood tones and a brick fireplace. It stands dormant, flameless, because it’s too warm out for a fire this time of year.

Beside the fireplace sit two figures that catch his attention. Even from a short distance, Eddie recognizes the mane of luscious locks, a signature feature that only belongs to one person. He strolls over with excitement tugging at his chest.

“Excuse me,” Eddie’s voice is hushed as he addresses the two figures engrossed in conversation. “Do you happen to know if the creamer here is fat-free?”

Steve and Robin’s dialogue comes to an abrupt halt, their voices silenced by the unexpected interruption. They exchange a glance, their eyebrows raising in unison. Simultaneously, their heads turn to peer over their shoulders. And there he stands, Eddie, someone they never thought they’d see again.

Steve gets to his feet a beat faster than Robin and he’s all smiles. “Look what the cat dragged in!”

“Must be an expensive cat,” Robin quips while she eyes Eddie, a quick assessment that catches details he overlooked in his haste to blend in. Her comment refers to the flashy jewelry he neglected to take off. “Persian, right? Those are the goblin-looking ones that rich people like? Ugly little fluff balls, if you ask me.”

Eddie’s sigh carries relief, expressing his genuine pleasure in knowing that Robin remains candid and unfiltered, just as he remembers her. As he extends his hand, Steve meets him with a firm handshake.

A friendly slap on the shoulder from Steve follows. “What brings you to this god-forsaken town?” His question is punctuated by true curiosity and a hint of humor, alluding to Eddie’s past that has kept him from ever returning up until now.

 “I was in the area,” Eddie replies with a sense of restraint, deliberately avoiding the true source of his change in plans. “Figured I'd swing by to see what’s what.”

Robin gestures for Eddie to take the seat opposite of them. They all settle into their mahogany-colored chairs. Eddie shifts awkwardly, the denim of his jeans dragging on the leather noisily.

With her elbows digging into her knees, Robin leans forward and supports her chin with her balled fists, positioned to hear the greatest story in her life. “So?” 

Eddie blinks dumbly, bemusement evident on his face. “What?” 

Reclined deeply into his chair, Steve rests his hands on his belly with interlocked fingers. “Enlighten us. Where the hell did ya go?”

“Oh,” Eddie breathes, “Well, uh, I migrated west and lived in my van for a while. Then I found an ad in the paper for a spare bedroom in a janky apartment. I did the roommate thing for a bit and then- I dunno,” He twists the grim reaper-shaped ring around the base of his middle finger. “Things just worked out, I guess.”

Robin blows a raspberry and sits back into a less anticipatory position. “Long story short, huh? The last I saw, you were on the red carpet escorting Heather Locklear.”

Her reference to Eddie’s past event appearance draws a smirk from him, feeling a sense of satisfaction in knowing that his old friends have been keeping up with the big things he’s been doing. While she encourages Eddie to delve into the details of his daily life, Steve looks across the room at you. Your nose is to the grindstone, your hands working deftly to maintain the rhythm that ensures that the orders are being fulfilled in a timely manner.

Opening shifts are the worst, for the customers and the employees alike. Nobody is at their friendliest due to the dark clouds of exhaustion hanging over everyone’s heads. Not to mention, regulars have their quirks. Some are particularly anal—specifying exact temperatures for their flavored fuel. They scrutinize your every move, even going as far as monitoring the thermometer to ensure that their demands are met.

The grind of the morning rush is draining, yet, you soldier on. You wipe away spilled coffee grounds from the countertop and amidst the clatter and constant flow of orders, you catch Steve staring right at you. His expression is peculiar, his arched brows paired with a subtle curve to his lips. You tilt your head inquisitively at him. What?

Steve subtly points across from him and mouths, Eddie Munson.

Your hand freezes mid-motion, the damp rag caught between your palm and the solution-streaked surface. Instinct takes over as you lean onto your tiptoes, straining to catch a glimpse over the top of the coffee machine. And no shit, there’s that head of chocolate curls. Your pulse spikes as apprehension floods your belly. Returning your gaze to Steve, you mouth back to him, oh my god.

Steve’s frantic wave beckons you over, his urgency not leaving room for subtlety. Eddie takes notice of Steve and he looks to see who he’s motioning to. Your eyes meet and for a split second, utter disbelief is mirrored on both of your faces.

You panic and duck out of sight, retreating to the relative cover near the floor. Your thoughts race, your heartbeat pounding twice that. “What the actual fuck is he doing here?” you ask yourself, unable to grapple with the overwhelming emotions.

Eddie’s heavy-footed steps carry him up to the counter, the air around him feeling electrically charged, making his arm hair stand up straight. His chest constricts as he approaches the ledge and looks behind it. There you are, sitting on the floor with your legs pulled close to your chest and your forehead against your knees.

“Sweetheart,” he chuckles airily, though his brows are pulled together as to why you’re down there.

Reluctantly, you lift your head and meet his eyes. A sheepish grin tugs at your lips and you can’t help but scrunch your nose. “Eddie, hi!”

“Whatcha doin’ down there?” he asks playfully, then catching his bottom lip between his teeth in an attempt to suppress the smile that threatens to form. “Almost looks like you’re tryin’ to hide from me.”

You shake your head, only slightly annoyed at his amusement. “I’m just busted, aren’t I?” As you get to your feet, you wipe your palms on your apron before rounding the corner of the counter.

Eddie’s arms are already outstretched before you’re even in full view. You find yourself stepping forward to meet his embrace. The hug is brief, not quite as long as Eddie would’ve liked it to be. His beaming smile accompanies his glittering stare as it follows your features, studying the subtle changes since he saw you last. “Long time no see,” he teases with the lick of his lip.

You’ve already taken a step back, creating a bit of space between the two of you. With a deep breath, you nod. “Tell me about it, it’s been like what, six years?” It’s your turn to trace the contours of his face.

You’ve seen the tabloids on the racks in the supermarket, the pages that showcase his exhilarating career. You’ve seen his music videos on MTV. Regardless of the set design and general concept, there’s a constant—Eddie, partially naked with jeans slung low on his hips, surrounded by bleach-blonde stunners hanging off of him one way or another. He always stood tall, an embodiment of untouchability despite being touched just about everywhere by sets of cherry-painted fingernails. His image has become synonymous with charismatic magnetism and sex appeal.

And now, he’s standing right in front of you. Eddie’s silver nose ring catches the overhead lighting, a rebellious contrast to the well-groomed beard that frames his jaw. He has far more tattoos than he had when you were friends.

The dangling layers of necklaces twinkle like constellations. While you hugged him, you recognized his natural scent which was mostly the same, but with a faint woody undertone. The cologne he wears seems to have become one with his clothes, the scent being inseparable from him no matter how many times the article is washed.

Eddie also looks stronger and his physical presence is more defined. His slim frame matured into something more substantial, and his muscles are built and bound with raw talent.

It’s a curious juxtaposition to see him in such plain clothes. He almost resembles the Eddie that you knew, feeling both familiar and transformed, an evolution you’re struggling to take in all at once.

“Yeah, coming up on six. Feels like it’s been longer than that,” Eddie replies, the joy in his voice unconcealed. He shamelessly looks over your uniform, the baby blue polo shirt beneath the navy apron, with his interest plain for anyone to see. He took in your scent too. Your natural smell blended with coffee, and it struck a chord within him. The combination of the two is better than his beloved Italian coffee beans alone.

“How long are you in town for?” You inquire while playing with the hem of your apron. Meanwhile, you shift your weight on the balls of your feet, attempting to soothe yourself with the rocking motion.

Eddie sucks air through his teeth with resignation. “Just today, actually.”

“Oh,” you mumble, your expression subtly crestfallen at the news of his limited stay. “That’s too bad. You really can’t stay any longer?”

“I wish I could but stopping by wasn’t exactly on my to-do list. I was flying home from New York and then my jet-”

You’re startled as your supervisor’s voice booms from behind you, yanking you back to reality. Her words are stern, reprimanding you for being distracted. She scolds, saying that the line is twice as long as it should be. A quick glance at your coworker makes you feel guilty, seeing as he’s struggling to keep up with taking and filling orders by himself.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath, “Coming!” With a final moment of eye contact with Eddie, you offer him a rueful smile. “Sorry, duty calls,” As you turn and make your way back to your station, you call out to Eddie over your shoulder. “It was great to see you.”

The sentiment hangs in the air, one that Eddie wishes you had a chance to elaborate on. But, time is of the essence and you’re already back to filling cups without waiting for his response. For a few seconds, Eddie watches you seamlessly shift back into work mode as if he isn’t there anymore. Returning to Steve and Robin, he’s met with pointed looks that are laden with interest. The weight of the encounter, the unexpected vulnerability he felt looking into your eyes, settles on his shoulders. As Eddie returns to the seat across from them, he slumps down with a pout.

Robin’s brows furrow at his sudden change in demeanor. “Why the long face? Didn’t you ask her out?”

Eddie’s response is a sullen half-note while he stares fixedly at a speck of mud on Steve’s shoe. “No,” he says, “I didn’t, and quite frankly, I don’t think she’d even want to.” In the way that Eddie is carrying himself, it’s obvious that his insecurities have been stirred up. “You should’ve seen the way she looked at me. It was like she hardly recognized me.”

Steve scoffs and rolls his eyes. “I dunno, man. Kinda hard to believe a hot shot like you can’t get whatever girl he sets his sights on.”

That remark sparks something within Eddie, a realization that switches his perspective. Steve’s words hit home—he’s Eddie fucking Munson. A Grammy award-winning recording artist for Christ’s sake. Casanova, heavy hitter, ladies’ man. His confidence resurfaces, becoming acutely aware of the charm he can whip out whenever he needs it; he’s well equipped for this moment.

Summoning the deepest breath he’s ever taken, Eddie rises to his feet once again, feeling sure of himself this time. His hands smooth down his shirt and he clears his throat. When Eddie chances a look behind him, Steve and Robin are giving him two, technically four, thumbs up as a means of encouragement.

With newfound resolve, Eddie approaches the counter once again. You’re a flurry of motion, caught up in the demands of your job. A bead of sweat threatens to drip from your brow as you ensure that the whipped cream on top of the ice-cold beverage is the perfect amount.

“Hey,” Eddie’s voice cuts through the ambient noise, a little louder than necessary to ensure that you’ve heard him.

You peek up at him with a grin in acknowledgment. “Hi,” Though his presence is noted, your focus is unwavering, determined not to let any more interruptions affect your efficiency.

Eddie’s knuckles wrap against the counter, a drumming that underscores his everlasting nerves when it comes to you. “What are you doing tonight?”

Powdered cinnamon dusts the air as you gently tap the kitchen dredger over the tower of whipped cream. The finely ground burnt umber falls where it’s meant to, rather than onto your apron. “I don’t have any plans, why?” You hand the completed drink to the awaiting customer beside Eddie, giving them a polite smile that’s a testament to your professionalism.

The act of biting the inside of his cheek does little to help Eddie relax. “Would you maybe wanna grab a bite to eat?” he hesitates for a beat, the thudding of his heart is on the verge of drowning out his voice. “I’ll bet you’ll have worked up quite the appetite by the time you’re shift is done.”

You sigh softly, mulling over Eddie’s offer. “I don’t know…” You say contemplatively while flipping the switches on the machine, causing it to roar to life.

Eddie holds his breath, every passing second heightening his senses.

“Okay, I suppose I will be pretty hungry,” you concede, your eyes nearly forming tears of stress as you accept the ever-present line of customers. “Early dinner at Benny’s?” You suggest with an inviting tone.

“Just like old times,” Eddie smiles so wide that it feels like the corners of his lips might split and bleed. “Yeah, that sounds perfect.” He offers to pick you up, which he’d truly rather not. That would mean that he’d be taking you out in his uncle’s jalopy. In Eddie’s mind's eye, he would pick you up in a sports car and rev the engine to the point where you’re pressing your thighs together to stave off the vibrations coursing through you. A man can dream.

“No, I’ll meet you there,” you assert, your voice firm with certainty. The authenticity of your smile bridges the previously placed distance between you. “Thank you, though.”

His knuckles leave one last sequence of knocks on the marble surface, a rhythm of pride and assurance. “See you later, then,” Eddie confirms, his tone dancing on the edge of excitement.

You nod. “Later,”

Eddie turns away and finds his friends with expectant gazes plastered on their faces, awaiting the verdict of the exchange. His smile hasn’t fallen in the slightest, his dazzling white teeth and flushed cheeks don’t go unnoticed. Eddie’s enthusiasm is palpable, his words coming out in a hushed rush. “She said yes!” he exclaims, trying to shake the blood back into his fingers as the tingling sensation bites at him. “It’s a date,” He adds in triumph.

Sitting at the mini kitchen table in Wayne’s trailer, the rusty metal chair squeaks under his weight anytime he shifts. He can’t even sit still, despite there being plentiful hours between now and when he’ll see you again. Eddie finds himself flipping through the scrapbook you put so much time into making the summer before your senior year. That particular summer holds such significance to him, a time when the days were endless, and the bond between you felt unshakeable.

Each photograph feels as warm and breezy as the one before it. Sunbathing on the shore of Lover’s Lake, your toes dipping into the water as you prepared to leap off of the dock. The memory is vivid—your skin glistening and energy positively radiant with innocence and naivety. One of the snapshots of Eddie is far less flattering. He’s captured with sharp tan lines, the contrast in tones creating the illusion of him wearing a white shirt, despite being topless.

Eddie bites down on his lip as he studies the photograph of you riding your bike in cutoff shorts, your t-shirt having met an equal fate. The wind tangled through your hair in a way that he wished he could with his fingers.

The picture beside it features the two of you together. Obviously, Wayne had taken on the role of photographer. You’re both posed proudly beside a tower of playing cards that you spent 45 minutes building card by card, on the very table that Eddie is sitting at. Both of you held your breath and didn’t speak a word to avoid knocking it down. Taped across the same page are watermelon and grape-flavored blow pop wrappers, unredeemed arcade tickets, movie stubs, and receipts saved from snack runs made on days that you were craving specific treats.

With the turn of a page, Eddie melts a little as he comes across the photobooth strips. It was necessary for you to sit on his lap in order for both of you to fit within the frame. He was able to wrap his arms around your waist and hold you close as if there was anywhere for you to go inside the cramped box. Your arms encircled his neck and rested on his shoulders while you made silly faces at the camera, and even better, at each other.

Eddie recoils at the picture of him with red-stained popsicle sticks protruding from his mouth, immaturely imitating a walrus, of all things. You laughed so hard that you insisted on taking a photo, and as much as dislikes the image itself, he’s still eating up how delighted you were by his antics.

The moments that weren’t captured on film come flooding back just as vividly as if they’re pasted to the paper before him. Inhaling helium from balloons and laughing hysterically at one another is a night that comes to mind. He knew he’d never get sick of making you laugh. And that time when playfully tossing popcorn into each other's mouths evolved from being a fun game to a skill. Last but not least, Eddie reminisces about sitting in his van together with the windows down, sharing cigarettes and music as the cool evening air enveloped you both. The quieter memories are just as deafening as the amusing ones.

His life had its fair share of upheaval and dysfunction that seemed to pull him in all directions. Amidst the chaos, one constant remained. You. Eddie didn’t need more than that, you already made life worth living.

But, as life often goes, the sweet moments can become bitter in the blink of an eye. 

It was the night of your graduation party, a celebration meant to be an intimate gathering among close friends—you, Eddie, Robin, and Steve. But when Eddie pulled up to your parent’s house, a scene was unfolding before him that he hadn’t anticipated. The yard was dotted with clusters of students while the front door was revolving with people drunkenly coming and going. Inside the belly of the beast was even more lively.

Eddie hesitantly navigated the throngs of teens in the hallway, people he was sure that you weren’t even on a first-name basis with. He knew your house like the back of his hand but it felt foreign due to the sheer number of bodies dancing, running, and tumbling over. 

He was going to finally tell you how he felt, a declaration that had been building within him for some time. Eddie understood that you were out of his league, the unspoken boundaries dictating that best friends aren’t supposed to fall in love, yet he found himself helplessly ensnared by his adoration for you. For so long, Eddie was afraid of pressing his luck, and even more so, was in a state of constant disbelief that he was lucky enough to call you the most important person in his life.

Graduation marks a turning point in a young person’s life, a juncture where change is inevitable. Eddie was ready for change and he wanted his dreams to bleed into reality. He yearned to hold you without any limitations, to kiss you like he needed to in order to survive. It was time for a new chapter and Eddie hoped that when he turned the page, he’d get the girl he wanted more than anything in the world.

You were in the kitchen. Typically, he gets a kick out of the way you act when you’re that buzzed. Your joyful disposition under the influence of celebration and booze led to you being the most laid-back version of yourself. However, he was facing an unanticipated predicament. Eddie was trying to have a serious conversation with you at a rowdy party. His hands were trembling, and luckily, his leather jacket concealed the fact that he’d soaked the pits of his t-shirt.

“There you are,” Eddie hummed and stepped closer to make sure that you could hear him over the music and chatter.

“Here I am!” you giggled, your cheeks flushed and energy unreserved. “Isn’t this wild?” You motioned to the piles of assorted cups and bags of snacks scattered haphazardly.

“Yeah,” Eddie responded, glancing over his shoulder as he was jolted by a stranger bumping into him. “What happened to watching movies and ordering pizza?”

The trace of disappointment in Eddie’s tone might have been discernable to a sober individual, but in your inebriated state, it slipped under your radar. Your smile remained and you swayed. The movement was more so a result of your jelly legs than unenthusiastic dancing. “I know, but my parents went all out and invited our entire class! I guess they figured that throwing a rager was a good way to congratulate me,” You chuckled and took another burning sip from your cup.

Eddie leaned in, his voice carrying a sense of urgency. “Can we go somewhere and talk?” he pleaded. “There’s something I need to tell you.” The weight of his unspoken feelings was on the verge of suffocating him and the heat of the room paled in comparison to the fire in his belly.

You tilted your head slightly, your eyes ever so bright. “What is it?”

Given that you hadn’t budged an inch, that meant that the conversation was gonna happen right where you stood. Eddie tried to breathe steadily, knowing that he’d rehearsed this and he knew what he wanted to say. Unfortunately, the words had startled to scramble in his head. “You, uh- you know that you’re my favorite person in the whole world, right?”

“Of course, you’re mine too,” you agreed as you pawed at his shoulder before leaning back against the counter to make up for your lessening ability to stand up straight.

“I couldn’t ask for a better best friend-” Unfortunately for him, the timing couldn’t have been worse. The song that had been playing ended abruptly. “But I wanna be more than that.”

Eddie’s heart sank as his words hung in the air. The confession that was meant for your ears only was now released into the open, leaving Eddie exposed. A mocking laughter filled the air that the music once inhabited; Jack Carver, the asshole who’s had it out for Eddie since the fifth grade, was locked and loaded.

Eddie’s blood ran cold at the sound as it collided with his ears. His fight-or-flight instincts kicked in, his body tensing as he struggled to prepare himself for what was about to happen. 

Jack Carver’s taunting cut like a sharp blade, drawing a wave of laughter from the surrounding students with it. “Did everybody hear that?” he shouted with derision, “The freak wants himself a little girlfriend.”

Defenseless, Eddie clenched his knuckles as the walls began to close in on him. He knew it wasn’t over yet.

“There’s a reason you’re still a virgin, and you’ll die one, too.” Jack sneered.

Prior to that evening, Eddie had steeled himself for the possibility of rejection from you. He‘d surrender to the emotional blow to keep you as his best friend. But he wasn’t armed for the level of humiliation that Jack’s provocation brought down on him. It was the wounds of his childhood, the physical and emotional scars from years of being picked on, that were torn open. Jack always knew how to hit him where it hurt.

The tears that blurred Eddie’s vision shielded him from your pitying and startled expression. It all felt like a cruel twist of fate, a reminder that he was meant to be the outsider, forever on the fringes without someone to hold him close at night. As the laughter continued to echo around him, Eddie fled before the atmosphere could swallow him whole. Without a second thought, he shoved his way through the crowd and bolted out of your front door.

The night air hit him like a wall, cooling the hot tears that streamed down his scorched cheeks. Eddie stumbled to his van and slammed the door shut behind him. He leaned his forehead against the steering wheel and let out a shuddering breath, feeling like everything inside of him was coming apart at the seams. Eddie squeezed his eyes shut to clear his vision by forcing the pooled tears to flow and he raised his head back up. He saw you stepping off of your front porch, a concerned look branded on your features while you called out to him, searching.

At that moment, he decided that he was gonna show every single person who thought so little of him that he could be somebody. Eddie was going to outdo all of them and kick the expectation that he was going to end up in prison like his father, that he was going to be dealing drugs for the rest of his life, and that he’d always be trailer trash.

If Eddie could go back in time, things would have gone differently. But after chasing the California sunrise, he’d mastered the world of glamorous parties, adoring fans, and beautiful women. They threw themselves at him. He didn’t have to worry about rejection because he could have his pick, he had whatever flavor he wanted for the night. But no one satiated the craving he continued to have for you. No one laughed the way you did, no one understood him the way you always had.

You’d never have another moment together, he accepted that. And it didn’t matter anymore because he became the man. He didn’t have time to sit around and sulk about a small-town girl who wouldn’t give him the time of day. But despite putting his feelings in the rearview mirror, he daydreamed nonetheless. Eddie wondered what it would be like to show you the new and improved version of himself. He hoped that you’d be impressed. More importantly, did you listen to his music? Or read about his scandalous escapades in the gossip magazines that wove lies into the truth?

Even so, that night set him straight. It wasn’t going to happen for you and him. His only star had fallen, so he put all of his time and energy into making a name for himself. The songs on his albums are about living life in the fast lane and the thrill of the night. They’re about trashing hotel rooms and experiencing things he never dreamed he would because that’s what sells records.

But at home in his lyric notepad lays the songs of unpursued love, melodies about chances taken and lost. There’s one ballad in particular, its verses tell the story of him introducing you to his newfound confidence, something that you never knew him to have. It speaks of how he’s seen the world twice over, and yet, his favorite place to be is tucked away in the memories where things hadn’t changed yet.

Those heartfelt lyrics remain buried, never to be shared with the world. They’re a tribute to you, the unsung song in his life.

Eddie’s experience when it comes to the attention of women should, theoretically, render him immune to being nervous. Yet, he finds himself impossibly so. The source of his unease? You. This isn’t just anyone, you’re not just some chick. The late afternoon swings around and Eddie’s nerves are in full swing. He’s feeling just as anxious as he did the night of that party because second chances are rare for him. Eddie is acutely aware that this is very likely to be his last shot with you. This isn’t just any date—it’s your first date. The significance isn’t lost on him, and he’s determined to make it count.

Standing in front of Wayne’s bathroom mirror, Eddie attempts to wield the cheap razor to trim the edges of his beard. His curls, normally styled to perfection, look deflated and lackluster without his fancy shampoo and hair products to nourish them. The trailer park’s hard water isn’t doing his hair any favors when it comes to frizz either. As Eddie rinses away his beard trimmings from the basin, he exhales dramatically, watching his self-esteem swirling down the drain. He tries to remind himself of his good looks by reciting a silent pep talk. The thought of disappointing you, or not meeting your expectations, is something he can’t bear.

Eddie parks Wayne’s car outside of Benny’s Burgers and takes a moment to double-check his appearance in the visor mirror. He wants to make certain that he looks as decent as he can. This is the chance he’s been waiting for, this is for all the marbles. Unlike his usual casual encounters, where names and personalities go unlearned, this is different. Eddie has to earn your affection back.

He peers down at his fingernails, thankful that they’re still in good shape from his last manicure. Eddie mutters to himself, trying to get a feel for an appropriate greeting. “Hi, you look… pretty,” Lame. Frustrated, he twists the skull ring on his finger, adjusting it from its sideways position to face the right way up. “It’s so nice out tonight, but you look even nicer.” Eddie groans, banging his head back against the headrest. “Jesus Christ, Munson. Get your fucking shit together.”

With a thick swallow, Eddie steps out of the car and makes his way across the parking lot that crunches beneath his sneakers. As he enters the restaurant, he’s happy to see that this place hasn’t changed one bit. Eddie debates waiting by the door for you or to sit down for the time being. Anxiety wins, and he chooses the latter. As he strides across the room, he tries to keep his easily recognizable face relatively hidden. Eddie slides into the booth that the two of you always sat in. You spent innumerable Saturday nights sitting here, laughing and teasing, talking shit and venting about how high school felt so life or death at the time.

A soft chuckle slips out as he traces the initials that he carved into the table all those years ago. He grins, recalling how much you scolded him while he chipped EM into the wood with his pocket knife. Eddie absentmindedly fiddles with the lid on the ketchup bottle from the condiment caddy, lost in his own thoughts, until the restaurant’s door opens. His heart thumps madly as he watches you stroll in and scan the room until your gaze lands on him. Beyond his control, Eddie’s eyes are gleaming, overwhelmed with the privilege of being in the same room as you once more.

He stands from the booth as you approach, his legs acting with a mind of their own. Once you reach him, he’s not exactly sure what to do with his hands. He decides against offering a hug since you don’t initiate one. Eddie returns to his seat as you settle into the one opposite of him.

“Hey,” you greet him warmly, placing your purse beside you on the seat.

“Hi, there,” he replies, the red of his cheeks deepening as his hands go right back to fidgeting. Eddie clears his throat. “How was the rest of your day?”

“It was okay, nothing special,” you reply vaguely, your voice dripping with fatigue.

Eddie takes note of and appreciates the slightest bit of makeup you’ve applied since he saw you this morning, simply because it accentuates your natural beauty. It’s a small detail, but it doesn’t go unnoticed, and it warms his heart to think that you might have put some effort into your appearance to meet up with him. Or maybe he’s getting ahead of himself and you just don’t like wearing makeup at work. Regardless, just as a complement is about to roll off of his tongue, the table is approached by an old woman.

“My goodness, I remember you too!” She beams, clutching her miniature notepad tightly. “You’re all grown up now.”

You nod respectfully, clearly remembering her. Eddie, on the other hand, does not recognize her as quickly. It’s like he’s buffering as he thinks, and then his eyes widen, suddenly remembering that the woman is the waitress who always served the two of you every weekend. Holy shit, he thought she looked old back then but now she looks ancient. “It’s nice to see you,” He performs, trying his best to be a gentleman and show you that he’s good-natured.

“I’ll be right back, I know just what to get you,” She says sing-songy manner and bounces away into the back kitchen. Even after all this time, she still knows your orders by heart.

Despite the breath that you release, the hurt isn’t evident on your face. “Why’d you disappear on me that night?”

Your straightforwardness catches Eddie off guard, and he struggles to find the right words to respond. “Doesn’t matter why,” he begins, trying to deflect from the topic. He’d much rather you ask him if he has any pets or if he’s read any good books lately. “That was ages ago, what matters is that I’m not a pathetic loser anymore.”

“You were never a loser, Eddie.” You say looking into his eyes, reminding every fiber of his being that you always liked him for who he was. But just as quickly, your gaze drops. You always hated when he talked about himself that way because you thought he was a total catch.

Eddie’s gaze lingers on you, studying the shift. Slowly, the realization dawns on him that your hurt runs deep, possibly deeper than his own. Coming to terms with his self-centered perspective makes his chest ache. He was so consumed by his own insecurities that he never spared a thought for how his sudden departure wounded you.

You change gears with an almost perfected ease, smoothly transitioning from the heaviness of the subject. “So, Mr. Super Star, what’s it like being you?”

A chill is sent up his spine, uneasiness caused by how swiftly you just rebuilt your walls before his eyes. He bites anyway, hoping that your interest in his stories is genuine. “From the outside, it looks like fun but it’s nothing short of chaos. When you’ve got a show every other night, and a band wants you on their new album, and then someone’s throwing a massive party...” Eddie trails off, afraid that his rambling is coming off as braggery. “Anyway, enough about all that. How ‘bout you? How’d you end up working at Morningside?”

There’s a flicker of joy on your face that shows your appreciation for his desire to hear you talk about yourself. “I needed something part-time, I’m actually studying to be a-”

EEK! You both startle at the ear-shattering squeals of three middle school-aged school girls. They’re gathered around Eddie, borderline frothing at the mouth to be looking at and breathing the same air as him. They’re all talking a mile a minute over one another, asking for autographs, wanting hugs, and gushing about his music.

Eddie looks at you and he can’t quite gauge your reaction, your expression is practically unreadable. “One second, I’m sorry,” he sincerely apologizes, scooting out of the booth to greet the rabid girls. He figures that if he handles this interaction skillfully, they’ll likely leave both of you alone afterward.

As you watch him engage, you’re beyond disappointed. It seems like he’s more interested in the attention and adoration of his fans than he is in spending time with you. He should’ve just told them to go away. Now you’re certain of where his priorities lie and you should’ve known from the moment you saw his face this morning. He isn’t here to mend things, Eddie has less than pure intentions and you’re not going to wait to find out what they are.

While Eddie is busy giving the girls his full attention with his back turned to you, you seize the moment to slip out of the booth and quietly exit the restaurant. One of the girls is clinging onto him after a hug and he has to pry her off of himself. In doing so, he sees your hurried movement out of the corner of his eye. He half-heartedly thanks his fans and rushes after you, his mouth going dry as reality hits him like a freight train; he’s getting a taste of his own medicine.

“Wait up,” Eddie calls out to you, his chest heaving.

You stop in your tracks and turn to him with a hardened look on your face. “Why did you come here? Was it so you could show off how untouchable you are now?”

Eddie’s mouth falls open. “No,” he steps forward but you inch away. “Of course not.”

“Then what? Because I don’t even know why I agreed to come here. You’ve obviously outgrown Hawkins and everyone in it. I wasn’t good enough for you to stick around for, much less stay in touch with.”

Eddie’s heart breaks in two at the sunset reflecting in the glossy pools that have formed along your lower lash line. “You were always enough for me,” he says weakly.

You roll your eyes and your car keys jingle in your hand as you cross your arms over your chest. “Do you really expect me to believe that when it’s been nothing but radio silence for six years?”

“Yeah, kinda,” he snaps, suddenly feeling defensive. Memories of the night he left come flooding back and he’s transported to that place of feeling unworthy and inadequate. His chest puffs up and his shoulders tense. “At least I made something of myself. Can’t you at least be a little bit happy for me?

He immediately realizes that was a low blow, evident in the way the tears start pouring from your eyes. The hurt on your face cuts a deep pang in Eddie’s chest for his thoughtless comment. You’ve always been there for him, you were always in his corner for as long as you’d known each other.

You shrink into yourself, avoiding his intense stare as you crumble. “I am happy for you. It just sucks that I had to be forgotten about for you to get there. But I understand, I really do. You had to ditch this town to chase after what you wanted for your life, and that included leaving me behind too.” You wipe your nose with the back of your hand and sniffle.

Eddie’s tense posture relaxes and his expression turns sorrowful as he watches you fall apart from his wrongdoings. It hurts to watch you run a hand through your hair and wipe the mascara from below your eyes in an attempt to compose yourself. The sound of your fumbling car keys is like a thundering countdown in his ears, urging him that his time is running out before he’s lost you entirely. Eddie’s mind races as he fights the impulse to do something, anything, to make amends. “Don’t go,” he begs. “I’m sorry.”

You respond with your eyes fixed on inserting your key into the lock of the car door, your trembling hands making it difficult to do so. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Yes I do,” he insists, getting as physically close as possible without crossing any boundaries.

The piercing glare that was previously on his face has found its way onto yours. “I disagree. You got everything you could’ve ever wanted.”

When your eyes meet, he can feel it in his toes. “I didn’t, though.” Eddie notices the inflamed veins in your eyes, hating himself for being the reason you’re crying. It’s an odd feeling, but a small, sad smile tugs at his lips.

The scoff from you hits like a slap to his cheek. “Let’s see,” you hold out your hand and begin counting on your fingers. “Expensive clothes, a massive house, I’m sure you have multiple cars. You probably have a personal chef-” All true. “For fuck’s sake, you have a private jet. What more could you possibly want?”

Eddie is terrified of making a move that might push you further away, yet he musters the courage to try to ground you with his touch. His fingers gently wrap around your wrist and both of you watch as he brushes his thumb over your veins. “I never got to have you,” Eddie’s voice cracks ever so slightly as he lays all of his cards on the table. “That’s all I ever wanted.”

A tear dribbles off of your cheek and splashes onto the pavement as your hands begin to interact with his.

You contemplate pulling your hand away, the heartache inching back into the forefront of your mind. “If you wanted me you would’ve been here all along.”

Eddie holds his breath as your fingers intertwine and your palms press together. “I’m here now, and I want you just as badly as I did back then.” His lips press a soft kiss to the tops of your knuckles and his teary eyes meet yours. “I was just a stupid kid who turned heel and ran when things didn’t go the way I wanted them to.”

“Yeah, you were,” you agree with a bite of your lip. “You didn’t even give me the chance to tell you that I felt the same way.”

Eddie grins, giving your hand a squeeze and another kiss. “Is there any chance that you still feel that way? Because I’m still stupidly in love with you.”

“I do,” you breathe with relief, swallowing the pressure in your throat. “I’m in love with you too.”

“Wanna be stupid together?” Eddie tilts his head at you, continuing to hold your hand to his plush lips.

“Yeah,” you giggle wetly, “I’d really like that.”

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Nightfall: Chapter 1

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The morning light filtered through the canopy of tree tops, sprinkling rays through the trees. The sounds of leaves and bark crunching under the tread of their hiking boots piercing the peaceful silence of the woods.   A young family trekked optimistically on their summer break. Getting the kids accustomed to the parents preconceived love of hiking that they shared far before ever having kids. It was the kind of trip they had both imagined for their little family ever since their first was born. Billy was a natural outdoorsy kid, Maggie, however was full of animosity towards it and would rather be playing Barbies. Even toting one of her dolls with her wherever they went. Still she admired the foliage, collecting her own bouquet of wildflowers along the way. The innocence of a young child embracing the still of nature and what the earth has to offer just by being.

Maggie encouraged that curiosity by wandering from the trail after straggling behind Billy, fortunately, Billy noticed and alerted their dad. "Dad, Maggie's running off again." To which he rolled his eyes at his daughter's silly habit and proceeded to track her down. Maggie hadn't gotten far, and when the dad had found her, he found her to be mesmerized, standing still in her spot.

"Mags how many times do we have to tell you not to-" he began to scold until his eyes met what hers did, resulting in him also frozen in horror. Maggie had stumbled upon what can only described as a horror scene. A deer lie in a small grove, dead and completely mutilated. Its poor body, unnaturally contorted into a heap of twisted, mangled flesh. The fur, skinned from its body. Flies made feast upon the bloody remnants.

"Daddy, what happened?" Maggie asked in fear. Unfortunately, daddy didn't have an answer. His fatherly knowledge reduced to the same childlike fear as hers as he grabbed her and ran, only to turn around and be met with whatever beast had tore the deer apart. The beast releasing a harrowing growl.

-

"Sources are calling it a total family annihilation; Investigators continue to work with the California department of wildlife and game wardens to determine what animal may be causing these gruesome killings, but have not released any further details to the public.

Police have urged the public to stay within city limits and avoid camping and other outdoor recreation until the animal is apprehended and put down. Local government officials are in talks of implementing a city curfew if the animal is not caught soon."

You listened half heartedly to the news as you pinned another music poster on your wall of your new apartment. Mind you the apartment itself was not new, in-fact very decrepit. A cigarette perched in the side of your lips as you concentrated. A 'vintage' Rolling Stones poster. You stood back and admired the new addition, one more thing to make this dingy place feel like a home.

Your roommate Vickey walked in from the kitchen, handing you a coffee. "Stones huh? Always a classic, I can't complain." She grinned. Vickey was the only person you knew in the entire state of California. You had answered her ad in the paper about looking for a roommate. You had finally gotten a job as a music journalist assistant for a local magazine print. It was small but just enough to get by and get your foot in. Music was your passion, and music journalism at that.

Vickey was a goth punk with black choppy hair, a blunt attitude and big in the rock scene; especially in LA, so the arrangement was working out swimmingly. She took a genuine interest in your work and would supportingly read all your writings and offer insider knowledge about shows. The two of you quickly becoming close friends.

"Another animal attack happened yesterday." Vickey said sipping her coffee. "Pretty crazy shit." . You sort of glaze over that statement, still focused on your interior design pursuit. "An entire family, shredded."

"Yeah that's crazy.." you say tranced on your new poster.

The TV reporter continues:

"In related news, a local church group has began petitioning the state of California for a total recall of all metal and rock music from its shelves, claiming the genres are the primary contributor to LA's recent uptick in crime, violence, and potentially a connection to the recent killings, they say."

Your neck snaps to the tv at this. Vickey scoffs. "Here we go again with these fuckin prudes and their protests." She flops on the couch and starts rolling a joint. "Is this a common occurrence then?" You ask, sort of laughing. Vickey doesn't break from her intense focus on her joint rolling; "The day the churches stop blaming everything on the rock scene is the day the last whore stops working the sunset strip. Shits been happening for generations pretty much. You just gotta ignore it." She grumbles.

"Right. Huh.." you mumble to yourself.

"You know- this could be a good story for the print." You blurt out. Vickey looks up, ushering her joint to you, but you decline by wiggling your cigarette in your lips. "Nah. This shits been covered a million times dude. Those uptight nuns have nothing new to spew anyways." She replies. "No no not for the church, Vickey, but the scene." You countered her. Her expression changed now more intrigued. "Oh? How so?". You pace around gently in thought. "From the rock scenes perspective on it. We ask them what THEY think about it all. Like the musicians and shit." Vickey chuckles and coughs out a cloud of smoke, "I dunno I don't think any local band is gonna give you the time of day unless you got drugs or can give good hea- well, actually..." She gets lost in thought for a moment. "I think I might know a couple musicians that MIGHT be willing to say a few words on the matter. -" you jump slightly with a mute excitement. "BUT- I can't guarantee you'll get anything of real substance from them.." she tries to ease your hopes down on her half offer but your excitement is apparent. "Vickey seriously?! That would mean the world to me. Who is it? When can I see them?!" Vickey smiles at your innocent enthusiasm to go willingly into the guttural den of rock.

"It's a local band called Guns N Roses. They're playing down at the troubadour tomorrow night. I'll see if I can get you in."

[seriouslycromulent]

5 Questions I've been pondering since reading the Parade mag article on JL

A couple weeks ago, I shared an article in Parade magazine that came out in early 2023 featuring John Larroquette. In the interview, they covered a lot of new info, in addition to promoting the new Night Court series, which was set to premiere its 1st season when the article was published.

Ever since reading that interview, I've had a few thoughts and a few questions that have stayed with me. And now I feel like the only way to exorcise these thoughts and questions from my mind is to share them here:

It seems like John and Elizabeth, his wife, relocated from California to southern Washington state shortly after the filming on The Librarians wrapped in 2017. (The article mentions they moved there 5 years ago, and 2023 minus 5 is 2018.) My question: Did they plan to move there regardless of whether or not the show got picked up for a 5th season? I know it's none of my business, and I can see JL fitting in with the area -- it is beautiful up there -- but I'm just curious was it to be closer to his then-job? Or was it just a new found appreciation for the Pacific Northwest?

In the article, he mentions a lot of his former cast mates had passed away over the years, including Harry Anderson, Charles Robinson, Markie Post, and Kirstie Alley. I can't help but notice that he once again didn't mention Richard Moss. My question: Does anyone know the story behind the two of them falling out? Is it mentioned anywhere? Or is it just hearsay? Why didn't they get along? I ask because I was/am a fan of them both, and it kind of sucks that they never reconciled before Richard passed away. [Upon re-reading this, I remembered that Richard was still alive when JL did that interview, so it makes sense that he didn't mention him in that context. But I still have those questions because I'm nosey. 😉]

They described how JL likes to spend his free time at home, and much of what they mentioned matches what we've heard in the past. But they also claimed that John likes to narrate plays in his home recording studio. My question: Is he narrating these for fun? Or is it for a job that he's been hired to do? And if it's the latter, are these audio recordings for sale? And if they are, where can we buy them?

He mentions his kids during the interview: Lisa, Jonathan and Ben. I know he worked with Ben on The John Larroquette Show when he was just 9 or 10 years old. And he's "technically" working with him now on the new Night Court. And he's worked with Jonathan on one of the McBride movies. I think Jonathan worked on the music for McBride: Requiem, which incidentally is my favorite of the McBride films. My question: Has he ever had an opportunity to work with his daughter Lisa? And if so, was it on an acting project that he was a part of like he did with his sons? I know she's a graphic designer, so that might be a little different than bringing on your sons to act or create music, but it would be nice to know if he's invited her to work with him in the past as well.

He acknowledged that he's lived a long and successful life for someone who grew up where he did and the culture he grew up in. I love these little tidbits and glimpses into his life, but of course, it begs My final question: Has anyone ever talked to him about writing an autobiography? Or would he ever consider someone else writing his biography for him?

OK. That's it.

Now my brain can return to its regularly scheduled program.

[greentechremo]

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[justinspoliticalcorner]

Rachel M. Cohen at Vox:

For years, the easiest thing to do about building new housing was nothing. The federal government largely deferred to state and local governments on matters of land use, and states mostly deferred to local governments, which typically defer to their home-owning constituents who back restrictive zoning laws that bar new construction. That’s slowly changing as the housing supply crisis ripples across the country. Experts say the US is short somewhere between 3.8 million and 6.8 million homes, and most renters feel priced out of the idea of homeownership altogether. The lack of affordable housing is causing homelessness to rise.

In Washington, DC, Congress has held more hearings on housing affordability recently than it has in decades, and President Joe Biden has been ramping up attention on the housing crisis, promising to “build, build, build” to “bring housing costs down for good.” But it’s at the state level where some of the most consequential change is taking place. Over the last five years, Republican and Democratic legislators and governors in a slew of states have looked to update zoning codes, transform residential planning processes, and improve home-building and design requirements. Some states that have stepped up include Oregon, Florida, Montana, and California, as well as states like Utah and Washington. This year, Maryland, New York, and New Jersey passed state-level housing legislation, and Colorado may soon follow suit.

Not all state-level bills have been equally ambitious in addressing the supply crisis, and not all states have been successful at passing new laws, especially on their first few tries. And some states have succeeded in passing housing reform one year, only to strike out with additional bills the next. Real housing reform requires iterative and sustained legislative attention; it almost never succeeds with just one bill signing. Trying to determine why exactly a housing reform bill passes or fails on the state level can be difficult, though advocates say it certainly helps when a governor or other powerful state lawmaker invests time and political capital in mobilizing stakeholders together. Given that housing challenges are not spread equally across a state, sometimes it can be hard to decide whether to pass statewide laws that apply equally to all communities or to pass more targeted legislation aimed only at certain areas. Partly due to pressure from voters and from more organized pro-housing activists, legislative trends are starting to emerge. More states and housing experts are thinking not only about passing laws to boost housing production, but also about how best to enforce those laws, close loopholes, and demand compliance.

States can make it easier to build more housing in a wider variety of places

While states typically grant local communities a lot of discretion in land use policy, more lawmakers are realizing that balance may have tilted too far. As researchers with the Federal Reserve Bank of Minneapolis outlined last fall, some states are now looking to increase housing production by enabling more multifamily housing and accessory dwelling units (ADUs) to be built without having developers first seek approval from local planning agencies or elected boards. This accelerated construction process is known as building “by right.”

For example, Oregon passed a law in 2019 allowing fourplexes (a multifamily home that typically houses four families under one roof) to be built anywhere in large cities and for duplexes to be built anywhere in mid-size cities. Before, a developer would have needed to seek special permission to build such housing. States like Utah and Massachusetts are incentivizing the construction of new multifamily housing near public transit, while states like California and Florida are making it easier to build residential housing in places zoned for retail. Other states, like Maine and Vermont, are making it easier to build ADUs, which are second (and smaller) residential units on the same plot of land as one’s primary residence, like apartments or converted garages.

Vox reports on how states are finally beginning to step on solving the housing crisis.

[bandedbulbussnarfblat]

Alright y'all, I'm going do something I don't normally do and get political for a minute. I mean, I reblog things that are political sometimes, but I don't make my own posts about them.

So, I was on Kamala Harris' wikipedia page. Bc she's running for president. And I'm gonna vote for her bc she's not Trump. But I wanna see what she stands for or whatever. For what that's worth in American politics these days. (btw how fucked up is it that everyone refers to Biden and Trump by their last name, but Kamala by her first? like with Hillary there was the excuse of her last name being tied to a former president aka her husband. but with Kamala Harris there is no reason to justify it? it's just plain old sexism)

And I found this:

That's a screenshot from her wikipedia page. Oh shit, screen readers won't be able to pic up what that says. Let me copy and paste it here:

In February 1998, San Francisco district attorneyTerence Hallinan recruited Harris as an assistant district attorney.[55] There she became the chief of the Career Criminal Division, supervising five other attorneys, where she prosecuted homicide, burglary, robbery, and sexual assault cases – particularly three-strikes cases. In 2000, Harris reportedly clashed with Hallinan's assistant, Darrell Salomon,[56] over Proposition 21, which granted prosecutors the option of trying juvenile defendants in Superior Court rather than juvenile courts.[57] Harris campaigned against the measure, which passed. Salomon opposed directing media inquiries about Prop 21 to Harris and reassigned her, a de facto demotion. Harris filed a complaint against Salomon and quit

For those of you who don't know what Prop 21 is, here is a summary from the wikipedia page:

California Proposition 21, known also as Prop 21, was a proposition proposed and passed in 2000 that increased a variety of criminal penalties for crimes committed by youth and incorporated many youth offenders into the adult criminal justice system. Major provisions of the proposition, as summarized by Attorney General of California are:

Increased punishment for gang-related felonies; death penalty for gang-related murder; indeterminate life sentences for home-invasion robbery, carjacking, witness intimidation and drive-by shootings; and a new crime of recruiting for gang activities; and authorizes wiretapping for gang activities.

Requires adult trial for juveniles 14 or older charged with murder or specified sex offenses.

Elimination of informal probation for juveniles committing felonies.

Required registration for gang related offenses.

Designation of additional crimes as violent and serious felonies, thereby making offenders subject to longer sentences.

As someone who works with kids, let me just say that charging a literal teenager as an adult is absolutely horrendous. Because they are not adults. Studies have, in fact, shown that the adolescent brain is only about 80 percent developed.

I have worked with teenagers. They are not children, but they aren't adults. Like Britney Spears said "Not a girl, not yet a woman" Except you know, replace girl and woman with whatever your gender is.

And it's tough for these kids. I think a lot of adults forget how hard it is. Puberty. Hormones. The social hell that is high school. And there are so many of these kids walking around undiagnosed. Bc a lot of mental illnesses can trigger in your teenage years, most commonly depression and anxiety. Which is like, just a natural fear response to the American education system, tbh. Not only for mental illness, but also for disorders and disabilities. There are parents who refuse to get their kids help. I'm not talking about the 'I don't want to medicate my child' people, though they are annoying af too. Like, there are parents who will be told somehow by the school system that their child is showing delays, etc. And they just...refuse to process that. They can't accept it, so their kid goes their whole life until adulthood without getting the help they need. Some of them get help as adults. Some of them don't. And that's not even to mention the dozens of kids who fall through the cracks.

So I personally think it's a good thing that our possible future president was opposed to it. Like, she's got that going for her. And in today's political hellscape I take my wins where I can.

[saintmeghanmarkle]

Leaked email: Harkles' aid negotiates their holiday visit with BRF. What other terms would you add to the list? [Satire] by u/cozymayo

Leaked email: Harkles' aid negotiates their holiday visit with BRF. What other terms would you add to the list? [Satire] From the Office of the Duke and Duchess of SussexHello Charles,I'm reaching out with regard to the open invitation implied to Her Serene Girl Boss Meghan, the Duchess of Sussex, and Dr. Prince Harold, Duke of Sussex, PhD. I am delighted to inform you that the duke and duchess have graciously agreed to accept your hospitality and are eager to plan their holiday visit to the UK, provided the following terms are met:The government of the UK shall designate the day of their arrival a bank holiday.A private jet from the royal fleet will be expected to transport the Sussexes from their home in Montecito, California to the UK. In addition to purchasing 12 carbon offset credits, the duke and duchess have generously agreed to offer the British people an opportunity to activate their collective environmental consciousness by refraining from taking hot showers for the month of December.The Sussexes will accept a formal greeting from the Choir of King’s College, Cambridge. They have agreed the following songs are permissible as they descend from the aircraft: Girl on Fire by Alicia Keys, Run the World (Girls) by Beyonce, and Independent Woman (Part I) by Destiny’s Child.The duke and duchess have agreed to be accommodated in the principal bedchamber at Sandringham House for the duration of their visit, pending the room being repainted in a satisfactory non-toxic paint (beige or greige with warm undertones preferred) produced in a carbon neutral facility. Please see attached PDF for a list of suggested eco-friendly paint brands, as well as recommendations for bed linens and toiletries.As a gesture of goodwill, the duke and duchess have agreed to lead the formal walkabout on Christmas morning.The duke and duchess will be formally acknowledged during the church service. The duchess will address the congregation for 25 minutes.The duke and duchess shall be referred to as Meghan, The Duchess of Sussex and Prince Harold, the Duke of Sussex by any and all parties for the duration of their visit to the UK.The duke and duchess have kindly agreed to have their pictures taken with you and your wife, Will and Kate, their children, the British prime minister, and Harry Styles.The duke and duchess shall wait 24 hours following the conclusion of Christmas festivities to commence a formal summit negotiating their progressive new role as part-time senior working royals.Please let me know if you have any questions at this point in time. We look forward to working with you and your team.​Warmest regards,Chief of Staff, The Office of the Duke and Duchess of SussexPlease consider the environment before printing this email***Auto-response:Thank you for your interest in contacting HRH King Charles III. Regrettably, he is unable to respond, as he is participating in a winter camping expedition with the Transylvanian van life community. The king will be unreachable by modern communication technology until the spring equinox. This inbox is not monitored. post link: https://ift.tt/91LnfyF author: cozymayo submitted: November 19, 2023 at 02:23AM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit

[amazingarchitecturewebsite]

Walker Warner Architects designs Quintessa Estate Winery Pavilions, #NapaValley, California Read more: Link in bio! Photography: Matthew Millman @matthewmillmanphoto. Walker Warner Architects: The pavilions are a series of independent 250-square-foot structures, each of the three pavilions is designed to provide an immersive, privately hosted wine-tasting experience in the landscape. As modest additions to an established 280-acre winery estate in Napa Valley, each pavilion reflects the founder’s desire for architecture that will harmonize with the natural surroundings of the property. Accordingly, each pavilion is carefully sited to protect visitors from the elements while also preserving the existing mature oak trees. The result is a unique wine-tasting experience that can be utilized year-round during weather extremes… #usa #california #архитектура www.amazingarchitecture.com ✔ A collection of the best contemporary architecture to inspire you. #design #architecture #amazingarchitecture #architect #arquitectura #luxury #realestate #life #cute #architettura #interiordesign #photooftheday #love #travel #construction #furniture #instagood #fashion #beautiful #archilovers #home #house ‎#amazing #picoftheday #architecturephotography ‎#معماری (at Napa Valley Wine Country) https://www.instagram.com/p/CmzT9WkLzKG/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

Record-breaking laser demonstration completes mission

NASA's TBIRD (TeraByte InfraRed Delivery) demonstration and its host spacecraft—the PTD-3 (Pathfinder Technology Demonstrator-3)—have completed their technology demonstration. The TBIRD payload spent the past two years breaking world records for the fastest satellite downlink from space using laser communications.

NASA's PTD series leverages a common commercial spacecraft to provide a robust platform for effective testing of technologies with minimal redesign in between launches. After launch in May 2022 on the SpaceX Transporter 5 mission, the PTD-3 spacecraft entered low-Earth orbit, and shortly after, TBIRD began sending laser communications signals to an optical ground station in Table Mountain, California.

TBIRD's two-year demonstration showcased the viability of laser communications. Most NASA missions rely on radio frequency communication systems. However, laser communications use infrared light and can pack significantly more data in a single communications link. This technology is ideal for science and exploration missions that need large data transmissions.

In 2023, TBIRD continuously broke its own records, reaching its peak in June when it transmitted 4.8 terabytes of error-free data—equivalent to about 2,400 hours of high-definition video—in five minutes at 200 gigabits per second in a single pass.

The TBIRD payload was one of many laser communications demonstrations. NASA's SCaN (Space Communications and Navigation) program is maturing this technology to demonstrate the impact laser communications can have on bringing more science and exploration data home. The next demonstration will be on the Artemis II mission.

In addition to breaking a world record, this mission demonstrated cost-effective design and extremely low size, weight, and power requirements—both on the PTD-3 spacecraft and within the TBIRD payload. The tissue-box-sized payload contained two commercial telecommunication modems that the TBIRD team modified for the extreme environment of space.

The PTD-3/TBIRD system also overcame one of the major challenges associated with laser communications: making the narrow beam laser link connection while moving at orbital speeds while being buffeted by atmospheric drag. The PTD-3 spacecraft's precision "body pointing" and stability enabled the TBIRD payload to make its record-breaking achievement while moving as fast as 17,000 mph through space. The spacecraft set a record for the highest accuracy pointing ever achieved by a NASA CubeSat without any moving mechanisms or propulsion systems.

The end of PTD-3 and TBIRD's mission was expected. The system did not contain a propulsion system, meaning once it was deployed into its low Earth orbit, the mission could only last until its orbit naturally decayed.

While only planned to operate for six months, TBIRD carried out its demonstration for well over two years, enabling NASA to learn more about laser communications operations in low Earth orbit.

The lessons learned during TBIRD will be applied to future implementations of laser communications and minimize downlink constraints for mission designs, enabling future exploration and discoveries.

TOP IMAGE: The benefits of laser communications: more efficient, lighter systems, increased security, and more flexible ground systems. Credit: NASA/Dave Ryan

LOWER IMAGE: An artist’s concept of the Pathfinder Technology Demonstration -3 carrying the TeraByte InfraRed Delivery payload. Credit: NASA/Dave Ryan

[gettitle24]

Certified California Title 24 energy consultant

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