#Sonia is in pretty bad pain at the moment but its nothing like the pain Vince is about to feel when he gets home after that “xl” comment

[deva-arts]

Typical Vincent to use the few Spanish words he learned from Amon for evil.

Sonia doesn't know whether to be upset, offended, or disappointed.

Here's Vincent's shirt as a bonus:

[stellar-alley]

Of Scales and Sea Glass

•Chapter 1•

 Next Chapter >>

(Summary: Eddie deals with the anniversary of his parent's death. After an intense tropical storm, he discovers something has washed up in his pool.)

Also shout out to @ambitiousskychild on tumblr for being my beta!

~

It’s just water.   You’ll be fine   God, why do you always worry so damn much?

“FUCK” Eddie groaned as he raked his hand through his hair. “Fuck…” He repeated, letting his voice trail off this time. 

It’s been a year, you should be over this by now . 

Sure it might’ve been a year, but that didn’t mean Eddie Kaspbrak was any less terrified of the ocean. Its endless blue and unexplored depths made Eddie want to be anywhere else. It didn’t help that the ocean was literally in Eddie’s backyard. All that he needed to know was that exactly one year ago today, that blue, those depths, took his parent’s lives, and that was enough to scare the boy shitless. Only now, on the anniversary of Sonia and Frank Kaspbrak’s death, did he finally decide to do something about it. 

Eddie stood about 50 feet away from his back porch, his feet in the sand and a towel wrapped over his shoulders. He watched the waves fall and crash over the sand. Tonight the weathermen were calling for a killer storm, which seemed oddly appropriate in the boy’s head. It was almost like his mother was giving him a sign. It was like her way of saying “Eddie-bear, go back inside! The world is dangerous, so stay in your room!” because that’s what she did. 

For most of Eddie’s life, he was fed placebos, convinced he had asthma, and practically forced to be straight. It was all his mother’s doings. Ever since her death Eddie has come to terms with all of his fake illnesses, he’s even been able to come out to his friends! Of course, they all accepted him and helped him whenever he needed it. He was really grateful for the losers he called his friends. 

Lighting struck in the distance, it sent a flash of light over Eddie’s face that caused him to shrink into his towel. The dark clouds that loomed overhead only caused Eddie’s heart to beat harder inside his ribcage. 

Thunder cackled soon after. Eddie’s eyes teared up as he looked up and into the waves, “I-I’m sorry,” He choked, barely able to get the words out. 

Eddie shuffled back into his oceanside house before the rain started, which was good cause when it rained, it poured. The first thing he did when he got inside was close all of the blinds, unable to look out into his backyard without his stomach-turning, the guilt was practically eating away at him. The last thing he saw as he closed the blinds were his pool, the water reflected the dark clouds that loomed overhead, creating a haunting atmosphere. 

The realization caused Eddie to sigh, “That’s gonna be a pain in my ass to clean.” Storms like these always brought the most random crap up from the bottom of the ocean, somehow all of it always ended up in Eddie’s pool. He didn’t even want the pool, he lived so close to the ocean, it was kinda useless. Well, aside from the days when it was too cold to swim in the ocean , that’s when he’d usually heat the pool up and swim in there instead. That was when he still swam. Now he hasn’t used that thing in well over a year. 

After Sonia and Frank passed, The Kaspbrak’s residence was passed down to their only child, Eddie. That house included an underground pool, a house way too big for one person, and an almost private beach that only he and his next door neighbours had access to. (His neighbours on the left never used it though. They were an elderly couple. Sometimes he’d find them sitting outside on the warm days, but they weren’t the outdoor type. His neighbours on the right had their yard fenced off). Eddie never used the pool but kept it clean for the days when his friends came over. They'd go swimming while he read in the shade. 

That night Eddie slept with his ear buds in, music on loud and the covers pulled over his head. He hated how scared he was of the water. He missed the way the waves made him feel. It was something he's never felt before, when he swam he was safe, and free. He's tried to overcome it, but nothing has worked. He'd need a miracle to convince him to get back into the water. 

 ~

Eddie woke up the next morning to the early morning sunlight streaming in through the cracks of his blinds. He mentally cursed out God for creating the sun before he turned over and shoved his face deeper into his pillow. After about 20 more minutes of internal complaining, Eddie finally dragged himself out of bed. His head was waterlogged, hazed by sleep. So when he opened the blinds to his back doors all he saw was a mass of sea shit that now crowded his pool. Instead of focusing on exactly what had washed up onto his property, he simply rolled his eyes and went to go back to breakfast. 

Eddie checked his phone, hoping it’d wake his mind up a little but he sighed as he realized he didn’t have any wifi. His realization brought a thought to the forefront of his mind. “Oh no…. No, no, no,” Eddie mumbled as he padded over towards the nearest light switch. “Fuck,” He leaned his head up against the wall when the lights didn’t turn on. This was something else that happened a lot when they were hit by a storm, the power goes out. 

After breakfast, Eddie got changed out of his pyjamas. He opted to put on an older black tee as he knew he’d be cleaning today. He pulled his iconic red shorts on and slipped on a pair of sneakers. He gathered up all of the cleaning supplies he had set aside for storms like these and set them out on his back porch. 

The morning air smelled of rain and salt. The temperature had dropped a couple of degrees from the previous day, which was refreshing, but it didn’t change the fact that Eddie had a whole yard to clean. 

First, he swept off the porch. He pushed all of the twigs, branches and sand onto the ground below. He noticed one of his neighbour’s palm trees had several fallen branches. That would explain the countless leaves that were scattered across his yard and filled his pool. 

After, he collected as much of the debris from the lawn as he could. Stuffing everything into garbage bags, tying them up, then carrying them to his front yard, where they’d sit until garbage day. Once he was in his front yard, he looked around at his neighbour’s lawns and saw they were all going through the same hell that he was. Everyone was out with garbage bins and shovels, cleaning up the mess the storm left behind. 

“EDDIE! HEY!” A voice called out to him. 

Eddie turned towards the voice and saw his neighbour to the right, Beverly Marsh. He was one of the lucky kids who conveniently lived beside one of his best friends. While the rest of their Losers Club lived no more than 20 minutes away, Bev and Eddie lived the closest, which made it easy for the group to meet up. Even if their meetups almost always ended up at Eddie’s house. 

When his mother was alive, she rarely let all of them come over, but now that she was gone, most of their summer break was spent in Eddie’s backyard, in the pool, on the beach, or in his basement watching movies. Eddie didn’t mind, he enjoyed the company. Especially since living alone got, well, lonely. So he made sure to soak up every moment he could get with his Losers. 

Eddie’s resting bitch face was washed out and replaced by a genuinely happy smile. “Marsh! How’s it hanging?” Eddie said in his best surfer bro voice. 

“It’s totally tubular,” She said, followed by a laugh. “How’s your place? No power?” She asked as she put down the bag she was holding and crossed her yard and onto Eddie’s. 

“Yeah, and my yard is a fucking mess. Don’t even get me started on the pool,” Eddie groaned at the thought.

A smug smile spread over Beverly’s lips, “It’s the days like these when I’m grateful I don’t have a pool. Can’t you just get the pool guys to come and clean it?” She questions. 

“I would but it’d cost me an arm and a leg. I’m just gonna clean then get someone to refill it. It’ll be fine,” He sighed. Eddie was gonna ask if she wanted to help but he lost his chance when Beverly’s aunt came outside. 

“Beverly! Oh, Hi Eddie. How are you doing?” She smiled at him. Beverly’s aunt Katherine was always nice to Eddie, she always helped him whenever he needed it, cooking meals and helping with bills. She was pretty great. 

“As good as I can be after a storm like this, crazy isn’t it?” He nods his head. 

“It really is, on that note, Bev, we should be getting back to work,” She said as Bev nodded. 

“I’ll see you later Eddie. Let me know if you get ahold of the rest of our rat pack, alright?” She winked as she slowly began to back away. 

“Yes ma’am!” Eddie saluted and returned to the backyard. 

He sighed. “No better time than the present, am I right?” He asked himself as he picked up the big net that was propped against the porch, then walked towards the pool.

The water had turned a dark green-grey. It didn’t smell too bad, which was a blessing as Eddie has a sensitive stomach and wasn’t in the mood of adding barf to his list of things to clean. He swept the net over the surface of the water for a couple minutes before noticing how there were a lot bigger pieces of debris than he had realized. 

Looks like we gotta break out the big guns  , Eddie left the net on the side of the pool and went to grab some rubber gloves and one of his big grey garbage cans. He stood at the edge of the pool and stared down at the water below him. It was different when he had the net, he barely had to lean over the edge, but now he was worried about falling in.  What if I lean in, fall, and drown, or get knocked unconscious and die? Eddie calmed his breathing down before it got a chance to pick up. 

“Okay, Eddie, you’re fine,” He let out a shaky breath. He ended up laying down on the pavement, flat on his stomach and stuck his arms over the edge, not daring to let anything below his neck hang over the edge of the pool. Slowly but surely he dragged most of the debris out and onto the pavement, which would then be put into the garbage, but right now he just needed to get everything out of the pool. Amongst the trash and green life he found in the water, he also fished out a pair of glasses, although they didn’t seem like normal glasses. First off, they were pretty big, but the lenses seemed oddly fogged and thick. Reminding Eddie of the sea glass he’s collected over the years of living on the coast. He set them aside and made a note to investigate them further once he was done here. 

After a couple of hours of hard work, Eddie stood over the pool and admired all of his hard work. Sure there was still a bunch of shit at the bottom of the pool, but he agreed to clean that out once the pool had been emptied. There had been a particular pile of debris off in the corner that caught Eddie’s eye. It seemed to be a pile-up of plants and what looked to be a fishing net. He walked over to that side of the pool and squinted down at the trash. Something was dimly shining beneath the pile of soggy algae that covered it. 

Maybe a fish got washed into the pool? Hm, poor dude, Eddie shrugged, about to walk away when the pile twitched ever so slightly, Eddie could have convinced himself he was seeing things, but something was telling him he wasn’t. Determined to see what it was, Eddie quickly grabbed the net and poked the pile of debris. He shied away after the first poke, then moved to poke it again. It twitched again. Eddie’s brow furrowed as he poked it again, a little harder this time. This time it shifted positions, allowing Eddie to see a little bit more of the creature that sat at the bottom of his pool. 

The shine came from scales, and there were a lot of them.  How big is this fucking fish? Oh shit- do I have a shark in my pool?! No dumbass, sharks don’t have scales…

Instead of poking it again, Eddie used the butt end of the net to try to move the debris off of the creature. He was able to push most of the algae aside, but the creature must’ve been tangled up in that damned net. The creature might not have been 100% visible, but he had a better view of it now. 

“Is that? No way…” Eddie began to speak to himself as he examined the creature. “That can’t be...” He said as he examined the part of the creature that looked like it had hair. Well whatever it had that looked like hair, it was inky black, it slowly swayed around-  A HEAD?   “WHAT THE FUCK!” Eddie shrieked as he began to stumble backwards. He stammered and wobbled. But suddenly, one of the bricks that lined the pool gave out beneath him, and he fell forwards. He fell into the pool with a big splash. 

He didn’t even have time to think, his mind was overtaken by panic. Eddie thrashed and splashed, he tried to pull himself to the surface but the water was blurring his vision, making it impossible to tell which way was up. He barely had time to take in any air as he was randomly tossed into the pool. So his lungs ached and his head throbbed. He wanted to scream out for help or stop moving just for a second, in hopes that’d he just float to the surface. But he couldn’t stop, his legs kicked wildly in the water, his shoes heavy on his feet and his clothes constricting his movement. 

He was too busy thinking about his own death to notice the pair of arms that’d wrapped around his waist. Eddie’s lungs began to  burn  , they begged for air, but Eddie knew that he was  not  going to let his mouth open. He refused to die the same death that his parents had. With that, his vision began to blur more than it already was. His mind hazed over and his thrashing minimized. His vision was dotted with black spots, due to lack of oxygen. 

I’m gonna die . 

~

Suddenly he was gasping for air. His lungs heaved as he spat up water and tried to breathe in as much air as he could. He rubbed the water out of his eyes. It took a moment for his gaze to clear, but once he did he realized he was sitting on the edge of the pool, his clothes soaked and his hair filled with leaves and dirt. 

What the fuck happened? How did I get here?  The questions overloaded Eddie’s mind as his breathing quickened, there was so much going on,  too much . 

The water beside him splashed, a light spray of water settled on him. He hesitantly looked over, hoping to see nothing, that he had dreamt it all up. But when he turned his head, he saw something drifting slowly towards him in the water. He hadn’t failed to notice how murkey the water had gotten. It’s green tinge now brown, and a little red. He didn’t even let himself think about what made it red. Eddie panicked and jackknifed, hastily shuffling backwards and away from the water. 

Eddie’s eyes were as wide as saucers, his eyebrows practically in his hairline. His breathing practically stopped as he watched the black hair he’d seen previously slowly poke up out of the water. Eddie wanted to get up and run, call the cops,  something , but he couldn’t. He was frozen in fear and anticipation. He couldn’t help that little bit of wonder that filled his head as the creature continued to come up from the waters’ surface. 

He watched as the head moved up just enough to reveal a pair of impossibly blue eyes. They stared back at him, partially covered by the black hair hanging in its face. Something about the eyes seemed hazy, almost as if they weren’t clear, they squinted for a moment before opening up wide again. 

Eddie could only muster a weak “hi,” as he stared at the creature before him. The blue eyes rolled and bubbles erupted in front of him. The head sunk back down into the water.

A splash caused Eddie to tear his eyes away from where the head once was, and look up. Further down in the pool he watched as a fish like tail splashed against the surface of the water. Half of its fin was covered in the fishing net. The rope digging into the scales. Eddie finally saw what was the cause of the red in the water. The net had various hooks still attached to it. They dug into the scales of the tail, causing it to leak red blood. Eddie’s stomach dropped. 

The tail splashed against the surface of the water again. It acted as a reality check for Eddie as he finally mustered the strength to stand up. Once he was on his feet, he wobbled momentarily before marching towards his porch. He didn’t look back as he closed his patio door. He kept walking until he was in his bathroom. 

He turned on the shower and waited until it filled the small room with steam. The boiling water practically burned all the dirt off of his skin. He was too caught up in his own thoughts to even realize he began thinking out loud. 

“There’s someone in my pool,” He started, his voice distant, “And a fish. A massive fucking fish.” He thought about the mess of hair he’d seen at the bottom of the pool. “No one can survive being underwater that long… No one, but not nothing.”

What if it wasn’t two things in my pool…  

He contemplated the idea for a second, “BUT THEY DON’T EXIST!” Eddie shouted in frustration, thrusting his fist against the ceramic wall of his shower. So many ideas floated through Eddie’s head, he hated it, he hated not knowing what was in his pool. And he hated the fact that the only idea that made semi sense, was that he had a fucking mermaid in his pool. 

“But they’re made-up. Stories, fairytailes.  Not real life, ” He countered, recalling movies like The Little Mermaid and Aquamarine. “But what else explains the tail?” He asked himself in defeat. 

Eddie turned the water to the shower off. His skin was red and raw, he could practically see the steam coming off of himself. He rested his forehead against the wall of his shower and tried to clear his head.  In and out… In and out  , he reminded himself as he took a couple minutes to just  breathe . 

After the hurricane in his head finally calmed down, he allowed himself to think back to what he’d seen outside. Careful to not open the dam of memories, he focused on the tail, the head, the water,  the blood . 

The poor thing is hurt , Eddie sharply inhaled. “Shit…” He recalled the net, and how it dug into the creature's tail. He shivered at the thought of what it must be going through. Then he remembered why he took the shower in the first place, he fell into the pool, and that fish thing, it saved him.

With a new game plan, Eddie finished up in the bathroom, got dressed, then got his fist aid kit and all the other supplies he needed. He went back outside, the sun beating down over his head as he stood on his patio and surveyed his backyard. A new level of determination filled the human. He was intrigued to find out what the hell was in his pool, and this was the best way he could find that out. 

He marched down and to the water’s edge, but all the bravery he had mustered died the moment he saw the creature floating on its front at the edge of Eddie’s pool. 

He raised his hands to cover his mouth, his eyes wide, “Fuck,” he cursed. His mind automatically assumed the worst,  death . But he tried to mentally assure himself that it had just passed out as he didn’t want to panic.

Eddie got down on his knees and carefully leaned over to grab the creature. He held his breath, worried about falling in, but he was able to pull the creature to the edge of the pool. He pushed it over onto its back. He wanted to inspect its face and features but Eddie needed to get him out of the water before those cuts got infected. 

Quickly, Eddie laid a towel down on the pavement beside the pool, worried about what the heat of the ground would do to the fish’s scales. When it came time to pulling the thing out of the water, he hadn’t thought about how much that fucking tale would weigh. He hooked his arms under the arms of the creature and tried to pull him out. He heaved and tugged. 

“Holy shit- you’re  so  fucking heavy,” Eddie gasped,  half way there , he thought to himself. All of the human part was out, and half of the tail, now all he had left was the rest of the tail and the monofin. Eddie took in one sharp inhale before he pulled the rest of it out in one final tug. He gasped as he suddenly landed on his back, the fish flopped down onto the towel beside him. 

Eddie didn’t take too long to recover, he was too interested in seeing what exactly he had just fished out of his swimming pool. He sat on his knees and surveyed the creature that laid uncious before him. 

It was indeed, a mermaid. 

The upper half of its body was made of pasty white skin, as smooth as a shark's skin. It shined in the afternoon sunlight. Its arms were long and fairly skinny with a little muscles. Eddie carefully lifted up one of its hands. He inspected it, noticing how there was an almost translucent webbing that connected his long and bony fingers. Then he let out a small gasp at the claws that laid at the edges of his fingers. They looked sharp, one swipe would surely draw blood. With that, he carefully laid the hand back down by its side. 

Eddie leaned forward a little to examine the creature's face. He lifted a hand, gently pushing some of the soggy hair out of his face. He frowned at the slash that ran across its cheeks, cutting through a wild pack of freckles. His pale skin allowed the freckles on his cheeks to shine like stars on a clear night. Eddie thought about counting them, like he had the stars, but he opted not to as he knew he had more pressing tasks at hand. He took one last glance at the face, allowing himself to soak in the mermaid's features in all its beauty. Yes,  beauty. Even Eddie couldn’t deny it, the creature was fairly beautiful. But now isn't the time for crushes, Eddie shook his head as he finally made his way down to the tale. 

Eddie examined its chest. It was fairly skinny, not malnourished, as in he could slightly see his ribs, but it wasn't too concerning. He noticed a couple bruises and various scrapes that would need to be disinfected. He followed the pale skin down. Suddenly Eddie’s brows furrowed together. The creature had no belly button. But if he had, then the scales would have started just below it. 

Now without the water blurring their colour, he was able to see the scales in all their glory. They were a pastel blue, some places darker than others, the shades varying as the tail continued. The tip of its monofin shined a sparkly silver that could give the real stuff a run for its money.

Finally, he got to his feet and overlooked  all of the creature’s injuries. Sure he had some scraps, cuts and bruises along the upper part of its body, but its tail got the worst of it. The net was tangled up in its monofin and dug into its scales, causing some of them to flake off. 

He raked his hands through his hair, tugging at the ends. “Fuck,” he sighed, realizing how much work he had to do. Without wasting any more time, he leaned over to the abundance of supplies he’d brought outside and grabbed the exacto knife to cut the net. Just as the blade popped out and Eddie leaned in, something cold and slimy grabbed his wrist. His body went cold, head snapping towards the mermaids. His eyes locked with the fish’s. The blues of his eyes were wide and determined. Eddie looked down and realized it was the hand with the knife. Quickly he grabbed the knife with his free hand and tossed it to the side. 

“Hey-Hey, it’s okay,” Eddie motioned his hands to show that they were empty and he meant no harm. Only then did the creature release Eddie’s hand, his head flopping back against the towel.  Eddie leaned over and saw that its eyes were still open, but they were hazed, almost unfocused. Eddie didn’t think too much of it, probably the salt water making him go blind or something. 

“Okay, I’m just gonna try to remove the net, alright?” He asked, but received no response. He leaned back over and pulled his bifocals out of his second fanny pack, then leaned back in and began examining the net. 

The mermaid’s head tilted upwards, it watched the human’s fingers traced along the edges of the net. Its eyes grew wide at the sight of the spectacles on Eddie’s face. 

Eddie noticed the movement and glanced over at the creature. He hummed lightly, wondering what it was looking at. The moment didn’t last too long as when Eddie leaned away from the tail, the creature lunged at him. Its arms out and claws sharp, its eyes filled with determination. Eddie shrieked and fell backwards, his hands flew up to his face. 

After a moment of heavy breathing, he realized he felt no pain. He slowly moved his shaky hands away from his face and looked up at the mermaid. He was surprised to see it carefully holding his bifocals. 

It held it in his hands as if they were so fragile they’d break. The creature slid them onto his face as if it was a second nature. The blue eyes blinked a couple times before its face scrunched up in confusion. It took the glasses off and held them once again in its hands. Now its face was filled with disbelief and worry. 

“What?” Eddie asked, unsure of what was happening. 

The creature looked up at the human with sad, hazy eyes. For a moment they just held eye contact, as if they were having a conversation with their eyes in a language Eddie didn’t understand. Then the creature held the glasses out towards Eddie with one hand, while the other pointed towards its own chest. 

Eddie’s face scrunched up, he hated charades. “What about the glasses?”. 

The creature pointed to itself once again. 

“Your glasses?” Eddie suggested, and the blue eyes widened to an impossible size. A new emotion spread over the fish’s face, excitement. “Yeah?” Eddie asked, and nodded. “Yeah!” Eddie said happily. “Yeah…” he repeated, this time with fear laced in his voice as he had no clue where its glasses were. 

Since when do mermaids wear glasses anyways? What the fuck?

“Wait- You can understand me?” It finally dawned on Eddie, he’d been talking to a mermaid, and it was responding… technically. 

Its eyebrows lowered and their glare became sharp, as if to say ‘ Yeah, so? ’, followed by a slow nod. Now it had used its free arm to prop itself up on it’s elbow so they were almost at eye level. 

Eddie smiled softly at the fish, his cheeks a little warmer than they were before. He nervously chuckled, “Oh, cool”. He rubbed the back of his neck, diverting his gaze around the backyard so he didn’t have to stare into those ocean eyes any longer. His sight landed on the pile of trash he said he’d sort through later that laid on his lawn and he noticed a piece of glass that shined in the light. 

Eddie gasped, he jumped from his sitting position up to his feet and ran to his pile of trash. He snatched the object up off of the lawn and ran back to the mermaid, practically falling down beside it. Eddie got situated on the ground, a wide smile on his face. He held them and carefully opened them up, without any further wait, he leaned in and slid the glasses on the mermaid's face. 

The fish was confused at first, unsure of how to feel about the human being so close. But the small boy didn’t give it much of a chance to react because before he could flinch, his vision cleared. Its hands moved up to its face and felt around, touching the glasses that they knew all too well. 

Finally being able to see clearly, it looked up at the boy in front of it. Its lips curved into a wide smile that got a little giggle out of the human. 

“So I guess those are yours?” Eddie asks. 

The mermaid nods proudly. The moment is cut short when a bolt of pain cuts through the fish’s tail, it grimaces and hisses.

Eddie tenses at the sound, “Oh shit! Sorry, but can I  please use the knife?” He beged, eyes wide and worried. 

The mermaid lies back down on the towel, eyes forced shut. It nods. 

Okay, okay, okay  . Eddie’s thoughts pick up at the thought of being so close to the creature. Not because it’s like- cute or anything,  no  , it’s because he doesn't want to hurt it.  Yeah, that’s why . 

Eddie gripped the exacto knife with enough strength to make his knuckles go white. His eyes skimmed over the net, deciding on where to cut. He found a spot he claimed to be a good start and began cutting. He sliced the net up and into pieces, slowly freeing the tail from its grasp. Soon enough he was just left with the pieces that had the hooks attached to them. 

“Sorry this is gonna hurt,” Eddie said before he carefully pulled the fist hook loose. The fish’s breathing hitched and filled with pain. “ Sorry!”  Eddie grimaced as he pulled another one out. This one leaked a lot more blood and the mermaids hand smacked around the ground, causing Eddie to jump at the sudden sound. It felt like it took hours to fully free the tail, but soon enough the deed was done. 

Eddie leaned back on his hands and tilted his head up towards the sun. “I’m sorry,” he breathed before looking back down at the mermaid. It sat upright now, carefully examining its tail. It reached out to touch one of the cuts. Eddie jumped into action and slapped the hand away. It hissed at Eddie. “Hey! Don’t do that, I’ve still gotta disinfect them, okay?” His tone grew impatient as he cracked open the first aid kit. 

His back began to ache from the hours he’d spent hunched over the blue tail, disinfecting the scrapes and bandaging the deeper cuts. He moved on to the upper half of the creature. 

“Tell me if this hurts, okay?” Eddie requested as the mermaid gave him a side eye look. Eddie began to slowly put pressure on different places on the fish’s chest, mainly the places with the bruises to see if- The mermaid let out a loud hiss. Eddie’s hands shot up and away as its claws came into view again. “Sorry! You have an injured rib, so that’s why it hurts. You won’t be able to move much until it heals,” Eddie explained, his mind going through the healing process when he realized it won’t be able to swim in this condition, and it certainly can’t stay on land in Eddie’s backyard. 

“Oh…” Eddie’s graze dropped, a sudden wave of fatigue washed over him as he realized what he’s gonna have to do. But before he allowed himself to think over the idea too much, he finished cleaning all of the cuts that needed it. 

“O-Okay, so I-um.... I can’t leave you here, and I can’t bring you back to the ocean cause you’re hurt and you need to properly heal. So i’m gonna bring you into my house and keep you in my bathtub, okay?” He rambled in hopes the creature understood what he was saying.  God, I sound fucking insane. This is insane! I can’t keep an oversized goldfish in my tub. But I can’t leave him out here… the pool guys are coming tomorrow and if they see him we’d be in so much shit- It’s the only way  . Eddie finalized his plan with a sigh.   

“You,” he pointed at the creature, “stay,” he demanded before he got up and went back inside. He ran upstairs and into the bathroom, flopped down beside the big bathtub, and began running the water. He set the temperature to warm then took a moment to catch his breath. 

Everything began to settle in. The mermaid, the scales, the storm, the future, the creature’s eyes, its freckles-  Okay, Eddie stop it. It’s a fucking sea creature, you can’t have a crush on it . He huffed and rolled his eyes at his gay thoughts. Eddie’s been out for a couple months now, to his mother's dismay, and he’s been happy. Sure he’s had a couple crushes before, but he’s never had one on a fish person… So he wasn't too sure what to think of that. 

The white noise created by the running water created a soothing atmosphere for the boy, and for a moment, he sat in silence and just  breathed . Though the moment was short lived, a low whale-like sound erupted from his stomach, reminding him about the fact that he hasn't had lunch yet. He looked down at his watch and saw it was already 3 pm. 

Holy shit, time flies when you're with a merman. If I’m hungry then imagine what it must be feeling, when was the last time it ate? What does it eat? Do I have anything to feed it? Okay let’s just focus on getting it inside first- Also? Finding a fucking name for this thing, I can’t keep calling it, well, IT!

Eddie shook all of the static out of his head and pulled himself to his feet. He turned the knob to the bathtub and turned the water off, he hoped the temperature would suffice, he’d find out soon enough. 

Going back to the mermaid in his backyard, he found it in the same place he left it, which was a relief. Still on its back, with an arm on its forehead to shade its eyes from the blaring afternoon sun. It sensed the human before he approached. It moved its arm and tilted its head to look up at the towering figure. 

“Hi again, so I need to pick you up to bring you inside. So you don't… die. Is that okay?” Eddie asked awkwardly. The creature simply shrugged, as if to say ‘Do what you need’. “Okay,  well , you need to help me out cause you weigh a fucking ton and I am not strong. So wrap your arms around my neck and don’t-don’t fucking eat me,” Eddie instructed as he got down on his knees, bracing himself for the weight he’d soon carry. 

The mermaid sat up. Eddie moved his hands underneath the tail, he didn’t wait for the mer to move its arms because he knew if he waited any longer he’d convince himself not to. So he sharply inhaled and lifted the mermaid up bridal style. He wobbled slightly as he gained his balance on his feet. The wobble sent a shiver down the mer’s spine, he jumped to wrap its arms around Eddie’s neck in fear of being dropped. 

The sudden motion made Eddie smirk. “Oh,  now  you do it,” he forced a small laugh. Eddie began to walk forward towards the house, each step harder than the last. 

When they got to the stairs, Eddie’s breath hitched when he went up the first stair, his arms almost gave out from beneath him. 

The mermaid shook and buried its face in the crook of Eddie’s neck. Eddie felt the glasses dig into his neck. With the sudden change of proximities,  the mer’s breath sent shivers down Eddie’s back, it was slow and warm. 

The muscles in his arms burned before he even started up the staircase to the second flood. “Fuck… me,” Eddie murmed, as if it was going to take away the fiery pain that ran through his body. 

Eddie was practically dragging his feet as he walked, unable to bring them up from the ground. His vision was set on the staircase in front of him, so he didn’t notice the one floorboard that was slightly higher than the others. The toe of his foot collided with the floorboard and they went toppling forward, hitting the floor with a big  thump . 

The creature let out a ear bleeding shriek as it fell, then pain erupted from its tail as it landed on the ground. Certainly the extra weight of a human on its torso didn’t help at all. 

Eddie was in shock for a moment, unsure of what had just happened. Looking around he turned and saw he was now face to face with the mermaid. Their eyes locked, both of them wild and concerned. Eddie snapped himself back into reality before he could get lost in the ocean eyes again. 

“I-I’m sorry.  Shit , I’m so sorry,” Eddie stammered, his body weak and his arms aching. He rolled off the creature and onto his back. “I’m sorry,” He croaked, the failure settling in. 

He didn’t move his gaze from the ceiling over his head. He didn’t want the mer to see his eyes as they filled with tears. Something cold rested on top of Eddie’s hand. Hesitantly, he dragged his eyes over to the creature beside him. The hand held onto his own as the mermaid’s lips offered a tight but comforting smile, as if to say,  it’s okay, really . Eddie shifted his hand ever so slightly so the mer’s hand fit more comfortably in his. The webbing that lined the fingers of the mermaid’s hand tickled Eddie’s. Its thumb rubbed slow circles over Eddie’s knuckles. 

“A-Are you okay?” Eddie whispered worriedly. 

The creature was in pain, for sure, but it nodded anyways, for the human’s sake. 

Neither of them were sure how long they stayed like that, hand in hand, breathing laboured and heavy, eyes on the ceiling. Although at some point Eddie’s arms felt a smidge better, and his breathing had returned. That’s when he knew he had to try again. 

“1....2...3!” Eddie lifted the mermaid off the ground again. It seemed just a little easier than last time. This time he kept his breathing steady, and kept his eyes going from the stairs in front of him to his goal, the bathroom. 

Once they stood in the middle of the upstairs hallway, Eddie took a minute and stood and caught his breath. He noticed the way the mer’s eyes drifted and examined his new surroundings. But something caught his eye and Eddie felt one of the arms slowly move away from his neck. Hesitantly he turned his head just in time to see the clawed hand reaching out for Eddie’s own little creature that sat in a fish tank that lined the hallway. It was his pet betta fish, Goldy. (He wasn't a creative kid, okay?).

“NO!” Eddie exclaimed, almost dropping the mermaid again. The sudden motion caused the arm to wrap back around Eddie’s neck in fear of being dropped. “Do  not  eat my goldfish. She is a friend, not fucking food,” he practially growled. 

The creature shrank away, not a fan of the tone Eddie had gained. As much as it wanted to lean  away  from the boy who just scolded him, it leaned  into  Eddie, it liked the warmth his skin gave off. It curled a little deeper into his touch, putting his chin on top of his shoulder and nestling into the side of his face. 

Eddie got the mermaid settled into the bathtub and immediately noticed a change in its mood. Suddenly its eyes had a new sparkle to them and his lips were always semi smiling. 

Eddie sat on the closed toilet seat and took in the sight before him.  A mermaid in my bathtub… This’ll be one hell of a diary entry  . “So! I-er, I hope this isn’t rude, but are you a girl or a boy? I know you don’t have boobs but I really don’t know how this whole  mermaid  thing works,” Eddie stopped himself before he kept rambling. 

The mer lifted two fingers in the air.  Two, second, second option. “Boy?” Eddie tilted his head. The creature nodded. He sighed in relief, “Good, good… I-I’m Eddie by the way.” The creature nodded again then ducked his head down into the water and blew bubbles up at the human. Eddie huffed in amusement at the gesture. 

The human’s stomach rumbled again. He rolled his eyes in response. He didn’t even bother telling the mermaid- merman? Merman. He didn’t bother telling him he was gonna leave cause the mer looked like he was having the time of his life blowing bubbles down under. Once he was in the kitchen, Eddie tried to be quick, opening up every cupboard and checking everywhere for food fit for a fish. The only thing he came across that seemed semi-suitable were fish sticks. Eddie eyed them for about half a minute before ripping the bag open, throwing them into a container then shoving it in the microwave. He made himself a quick sandwich, cheese and ketchup (That was the most unhealthy food Sonia ever let Eddie eat so let him be). He’d barley chewed his first bit before the microwave beeped. He held the sandwich in between his lips and held the container with both hands, moving it between the two cause it was hot. 

Once he was back in the bathroom he took his seat back down on the toilet seat and set the container on his lap. Eddie quickly ate his sandwich, only when he looked up did he notice the merman’s eyes were sitting out of the water, watching him like a hawk from behind his sea glasses. 

“Hungry?” Eddie asked as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 

The merman lifted the rest of his head out of the water at the sight of the food. Eddie held up a fish stick, “Okay, I know this is like processed shit but,” he sighed, tired of all the talking and manual labour he’s been doing, “It’s all I have.”

The mer shrugged and opened his mouth, asking Eddie to feed him. The human was taken aback at the gesture, but he gave in and picked up a fish stick, tearing a bite-sized chunk off. Eddie leaned forward and held it out just in front of the mer’s face. Its lips felt soft against the human skin as it took the food from him. It gulped it down happily then opened his mouth up again. The fish finished the whole container. 

He opened his mouth again and Eddie scoffed, “I’m all out fish boy! I guess I’ll go get some stuff tomorrow,” Eddie motioned to the empty container. The fish let out a low grumble as he sunk back under the water and blew bubbles at Eddie, as if showing attitude.

“Oh shut it trashmouth,” Eddie retorted, the nickname just slipped out. 

The water sloshed against the side of the tub as his eyes burst back out of the water. 

Eddie let out a nervous laugh at the sudden movement, “W-What? You like that,  trashmouth? ” Eddie said in a teasing manner. The mer’s lips smirked from underwater. The sight brightened Eddie’s smile. 

“Well,  trashmouth, I have no clue what time it is but I’m tired as fuck. I’m gonna go to sleep. You should too, so you can heal,” Eddie advised. He stood, took a step towards the tub and ruffled the fish’s hair. The mer leaned into the touch, the both of them enjoyed the physical attention.

Word count: 7604

I hope you guys liked the first chapter! Let me know what you think in the comments. I will see you guys next week with chapter 2, Sushi and Speeches. Until then, So Long And Goodnight.

~

[Taglist]

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[almondmilkygay]

Reddie; Isolation.

Richard Tozier had been in and out of various hospitals for the majority of his childhood, slowly transitioning into his teenage-hood. His condition was described as terminal - a phrase of with Richie didn't understand. He longed more than anything for his pain to be over. Whether this was through the form of a miracle, or his death - he didn't mind. When describing these feelings to his mother, she was distraught. And so, among the tumultuous amount of doctors and nurses came a psychologist, and a therapist. They barely helped however, and merely prescribed Richie to a diary, in which he would submit a daily entry - in an attempt to let some of his emotions out. Richie couldn't have seen true love if it had stared him in the face, and one day it did.

Eddie's trip to the hospital was in a whirlwind of emotion and colour. One moment he was confessing his biggest secret to his mother, and the next she was collapsed onto her knees - sobbing aggressively. Then then, through loud sirens and bright flashing lights, Eddie found himself in a hospital bed. Crisp white bed sheets were pulled tightly over his petite figure. His vision was slightly impaired, and he could barely make out who was lying in the neighbouring beds.

"Hey," A voice chuckled beside him, before stopping abruptly and muttering, "Welcome to hell,"

"God?" Eddie replied back snidely as the voice let out another laugh before letting out an audible wince. As Eddie's vision reappeared, he looked from his right (to an old man who was clearly unconscious) and then to his left. A boy, tall and lanky lay in the bed - less pristine than Eddie's. A wide pair of glasses were propped against his nose, reflecting his eyes back drastically huge. His curly ravenette locks flopped over his eyes, as he pushed it away clumsily. In a word, he was pretty. Weak and fragile, but pretty nonetheless.

"Why can't you laugh?" Eddie asked softly, propping himself up onto his arm and giving his fullattention the mysterious boy in the neighbouring bed to him.

"It's my condition," he said, weakly, "What're you in for?" He finished, mimicking a prisoner. Eddie chuckled, and Richie glowed.

"Just woke up here, maybe for my phobia of germs - but who would go to that extent?" Eddie said wistfully.

"Ah I see," Richie said, struggling as he stretched his hand across the beds, "I'm Richie,"

Eddie looked at the hand and shook his head gently, which Richie laughed at before groaning slightly and retracting his hand.

"Eddie," He said, gesturing to himself. Richie nodded, lying slowly back into his bed and sinking into the plump pillow below is head.

"What do you mean by hell?" Eddie asked softly, after a few moments of silence.

"I've been here my whole life. Like the opposite of a miracle," Richie whispered, "If it wasn't here, it was the next one, if not there - the next. I just want this shit to be over, to be honest,"

Eddies insides turned to mush inside of him in sadness and sorrow for the vulnerable boy in the neighbouring bed.

"Mh, I'm sorry," Eddie muttered.

"It's alright, 'specially when cuties like you get sick," Richie said smoothly, to which Eddie choked on his own saliva. Richie had read his sexuality like a book, and a small one at that.

"Mh," Was all that Eddie could utter, sinking into the bed below him.

"People don't compliment you much, do they Ed's?"

Eddie shook his head, blushing profusely.

"Who are your friends, anyways? I might know them,"

"You've been confided to a hospital bed your whole life," Eddie snorted.

"Family friends, Ed's," Richie said, feigning his exasperation as Eddie tutted, "The Denbrough Family are my bitches,"

"Wait, Bill Denbrough?"

"Stuttering Bill, the one and only,"

"He's like my best friend," Eddie laughed, "Fuckin' Bowers gave him that nickname,"

"Ah, Henry Bowers. The downfall of my childhood as I knew it. That prick still not thrown in Juvie yet?"

Eddie shook his head, wide smile spreading across his face.

"Sadly, a negative,"

"Mh," Richie let out a breath before saying, "Where's your mommy, Eddie Bear?"

Eddie spat out the water he had been sipping on silently.

"How in the hell do you know about that?"

"Mommy wouldn't stop yelling," Richie explained, "'Don't worry Eddie Bear! Mommy's here! Mommy's always here!'"

Eddie snorted at the shitty impression.

"She is always there," Eddie said, "Oh, and shut the fuck up Einstein,"

Richie laughed, and his pain was numbed. His insides felt like mush. Not the bad kind, however, not the kind his illness made him feel - but a good mush. Like Jello - as he would write later on in his diary.

"Whatcha' writing?" Eddie whined playfully.

"Diary or some shit - therapist gave it to me,"

"Aw shucks, that's a bit sweet,"

"More like chucks, I ain't some sexually confused tween,"

"Well.."

"I beg of you to stop talking," Richie said softly, turning back to the diary. Eddie shushed , closing his eyes and eventually falling into a deep slumber. He woke peacefully the next morning, as the sound of a gentle chattering filled the hospital ward, and the sun bounced off of his face.

"Mornin', sunshine," Richie chuckled wheezily, "Best seat in the house,"

"Far out," Eddie moaned, throwing his pillow over his head - shielding himself from the blindingly bright sun.

"Richard?" A skeptical nurse said, in a feigned gentle voice. Eddie lowered the pillow a little, in fear.

"Just Richie, ma'am," He replied quietly.

"Richard, it's time for your injections," She said as another nurse snapped he curtains back quickly. Richie didn't say another word as he was shielded from Eddie's view. A mere, painful hiss could be heard from behind the baby blue curtains - before they were shunned back quickly, leaving Richie clutching at the inside of his arm, eyes glazed over with tears.

"You okay, 'Chee?" Eddie asked softly. Richie nodded in silence.

"Same thing as every day, needles man - I'll never get used to them," He sighed, "And, 'Chee?" He finished, grinning from ear to ear and facing Eddie now - letting go of his sore arm.

"It's cute, do not dare judge me,"

"You're cute," Richie muttered, smiling maliciously as Eddie turned a subtle shade of crimson, "Don't even try and hide your red ass face, Ed's - you know you love me,"

Eddie stared at him, wide eyed.

"Jus' pulling your leg, Ed's. Your face is a damn chuckalicious,"

"Shut up," Eddie giggled, covering his cheeks, "What is it with you n' that word? It's not even a word,"

Eddie was downright thankful for the change in subject, letting his cheeks return to their usual tan shade.

"Watch it become a word when we play Scrabble, though," Richie pointed out, to which Eddie frowned.

"When are we playing Scrabble, 'Chee?"

"This evening, my bed. Why, you got somewhere to be?" Richie feigned a pout before chuckling heartily and clutching his stomach.

"Fine, sook,"

"You," Richie said loudly in retaliation, before being shushed by an embarrassed Eddie, "Dumbass," He finished in a lowered voice. Eddie laughed - his trip to the hospital had not been too bad, indeed. As they finished their jokes, Richie's therapist entered the room - wooden clipboard clutched in her hand.

"Richard.."

"It's Richie, Miss,"

"Richie, time for your therapy session,"

"I'm okay, I promise Ma'am," Richie attempted to reassure her as she kneeled by the side of his bed.

"Just a check, honey," She said softly, to which Richie gave a little nod.

"Can we.. close the curtains?" Richie shifted in his bed slightly. The woman nodded and shunned them close - Eddie and Richie's eye contact being broken for the first time in minutes.

The woman and the boy spoke indistinctly for many minutes - hours, as it felt to Eddie. The curtains were finally shunned open again and the woman thanked Richie briskly, gave Eddie a small smile before departing.

"Hey, Rich?"

"Yes, M'Lord?"

"You never actually told me your condition," Eddie pointed out, "You're not allergic to laughter, are you?"

Richie shook his head.

"My bones are like brittle - like, really fragile. They're decaying over time. With my organs and shit. Started when I was younger and has spread ever since, I guess. I take pain meds and shots but they just slow the process,"

Eddie's heart broke in two.

"Holy.. shit," Eddie said finally. Unaware of it, tears were flowing down his face.

"Ed's, you're uh - crying,"

Eddie touched his face as his fingertips came back wet.

"Mh, fuck," He said, dabbing his face with the duvet cover. The tears continued to flow, and finally - a sob made its way out of Eddie's throat.

"Eddie, I'm fine - really," Richie tried to reassure him, wanting nothing more than to hold the shaking boy beside him. Wanting to hold him, press kisses against his head and lips-

Richie's breath stopped as the truth dawned upon him. Of course he would fall for somebody who he couldn't be with. Someone (according to Richie) out of his league by miles.

The days went on - and so did the relentlessly brutal and competitive games of Scrabble. It all fell apart one day, when a clipboard was turned upside down, in perfect view for a bored Richie Tozier to read. A small post-it-note sat, attached to the bottom of the clipboard. A small scrawled message was written precariously on it.

Sonia Kaspbrak states he is ill for being attracted to boys - agree and take cheque.

Richie's breath hitched. Eddie was sound asleep, and in a peaceful oblivion. Richie's heart ached with decision. Continue lying to the boy whom of which he had fallen for, or tell him the truth and possibly lose him forever. He lay back in his bed, dabbling the thoughts in his mind. Eddie woke eventually, gently. He sat up a little and immediately sensed Richie's discomfort. The clipboard had since been taken away by a doctor, who received glares from Richie.

"Rich, what's wrong?"

A lump in Richie's throat formed, and he pushed it down with an audible gulp.

"Mh, Ed's," Richie began, "You're perfectly healthy,"

"Excuse me?"

"The hospital, your illness - it's bullshit, Ed's. It's all bullshit,"

Eddie wiped sleep from his eyes before shooting a glare at Richie.

"You're bullshit, fucker,"

"I'm not kidding, Ed's,"

"Do not fucking call me that," Eddie spat, suddenly wounded.

"Look," Richie sat calmly, "Your mother payed these guys - bribed them, to keep you here because.."

His voice trailed of slightly.

"Because what?"

"Because you like dudes, Eddie!" Richie spoke clearly. The use of Eddie's real voice pained him, but he would have never showed it. As Eddie was preparing to retaliate, a nurse returned back to the foot of his bed.

"Excuse me, Miss?" Eddie asked, feigning sweetness. Richie rolled his eyes, but couldn't get enough of Eddie's voice.

"Yes, dear?"

"Is it true I'm perfectly healthy?" He asked quietly, fiddling with the duvet cover. The woman didn't say a word. Instead, she called over a doctor and had a quiet conversation with him.

"Edward," The doctor spoke, "You have to remain in the confines of the hospital, upon your mother's orders,"

Richie watched as tears began to well up in Eddie's eyes. He wanted to hold him, for the millionth time that day. Eddie shook his head, attempting to stand from the bed. The doctor placed a hand on his small wrist quickly. In a single movement, Eddie had slammed his left fist into the doctor's nose and sprinted out of the hospital ward - giving a fleeting, desperate look at Richie before disappearing in a flash. Richie sat still, his heart skipping a beat.

Months passed, and not a word nor sight from Eddie. Richie had begun to forget him. But the thought of him or the sound of his name hurt him more than his illness ever did. One day, a few days from his birthday - he was met by a strangely familiar sight. A petite boy stood at the foot of his bed. His rosy cheeks and honey brown hair glowed with the reflection of the sun in the hospital ward. Freckles were painted across his nose and cheeks, and his hazel eyes sparkled.

Richie practically fell in love all over again as Eddie stood at the foot of his bed.

"Ed's-" Richie began, before his face was smashed together with Eddie's. He immediately sunk into the kiss, and only began to pull away as he realised Eddie was standing in front of him.

"H-Holy fuck," He hiccoughed suddenly, as Eddie began chortling.

"I missed you, 'Chee," Eddie said, wide smile across his face. Richie couldn't say a word, instead sat stock still - face a glowing red. Eddie sat down on the bed and took Richie's head in his hand.

"I had to see you one last time," Eddie said gently, taking advantage of the silence, "I'm getting out of this shit hole, 'Chee!"

"Please don't leave me, Ed's," Richie managed to spit, before tears began to flow down his face. Eddie shook his head, as tears began to flow down his own face.

"Fuck.. 'Chee. You know I can't stay," Eddie chuckled slightly, despite the tears.

"I don't want to fuckin' die alone,"

"You're not going to die, 'Chee,"

"Who're you kidding, Ed's - look at me!" Richie said, weakly gesturing to his vulnerable figure, "I'm going to die, and I-I love you..”

"I don't want to watch you die, 'Chee," Eddie sighed gently, "I have to go,"

"You don't have to do anything," Richie finally said, before closing his eyes and stopping the flow of tears. He felt as Eddie pressed a kiss onto his forehead, down to his nose and finally his lips. Richie tried his best to not lean into the kiss, but ended up doing so - his hand resting on Eddie's cheek before Eddie pulled away, letting Richie's hand fall.

Years have passed since the two had their last conversation. Eddie left, contrary to Richie's belief. He came back months later, but it was all too late. Richie had passed, and buried in the nearby graveyard. Eddie still dwells upon their late night Scrabble sessions. He still dwells on the nicknames, sarcasm and jokes. The pain within the laughs, all that Eddie feels. Eddie's first, and only love. The love that would remain inside of his heart for centuries to come. The grave - littered with rose petals and flowers, all courtesy of Eddie. The sweet gifts that Eddie gives to Richie. The place he goes alone, always alone. Eddie never had the chance to say four simple words, four words that - for all Eddie knows, could've saved Richie's life.

"I love you too,"

With the second thoughtful;

"'Chee,"

[jaybug-jabbers]

Pokemon Sword/Shield: A review of my experience

So, I’ve rung in the new year in style with a bad cold. Fortunately, I received a new Switch Lite for Christmas and a copy of Pokemon Sword, so at least I’ve had something to do while sitting about feeling miserble. I beat the game last night, and I figured I’d say a few words about what I thought of it. There are major spoilers ahead!

Graphics & Music

First of all, it looks absolutely beautiful. I’m used to using my 2DS, so the upgrade to the Switch Lite was quite the jump. When compared to previous Pokemon titles, the game is absolutely stunning to gaze upon. What’s more, the environments are varied, creative, colorful, and just lovely. They were such a delight that when I first started the game and had control of my character, the first thing I did was simply stand there for a solid five minutes just gazing on the dynamic, gorgeous countryside, butterfree flapping in the distance, Wooloo rolling around, people going about their day. It helps that I do love the UK and I’ve visited it in the past, and I have to say they did an excellent job evoking the feel of those landscapes. Exploring the towns and the environments was always a joy. Their layouts were natural, intuitive, and walking around or biking around was easy and fun. I was eager to explore every nook and cranny. Accompanying the environments was excellent music. All of the tracks were on-point. They set the feel of the location and they were all great to listen to.

UI & Battle Mechanics

Another thing you notice right away is the UI has been beautifully updated. It’s logically and appealingly organized, it’s very speedy, and there are a lot of quality-of-life tweaks and updates– such as accessing your pokemon PC from just about anywhere. (or easy access to Flying from the regular Map menu!) These tweaks have really helped smooth and streamline things and make for a better experience. It took some getting used to some of the tweaks, such as a forced Experience Share for the entire pokemon party. I’m still not sure what I think of that, but I kept reminding myself that full-party experience is standard in other RPGs, so it’s not so huge a jump for Pokemon to adopt it as well.

Characters

The game is also populated by many characters that I enjoyed. The character designs were well thought-out and appealing, and the characters themselves were fun. Hop may have a bit of a doofy haircut and be a bit of a dork, but he’s still an enjoyable rival. Professor Magnolia seems cool, as does her daughter Sonia. As we meet each of the gym leaders in turn, I generally liked them, as well. They did a good job adding little bits of personality to each of them. And yes, I even liked Leon, the over-the-top and bizarrely-dressed Champion. He was hammy and I think it worked well for him.

The Sport of Pokemon & Dynamaxing

Something else I found myself really enjoying was how much the game was emphasizing the sport aspect to Pokemon battling in the Galar region. This is something the game has always had to a certain extent, but never to the degree it has here. Pokemon battling was a huge spectacle here in Galar, done in massive statiums to huge, roaring crowds. This is a world of difference when compared to the solemn, trial-like, solitary experience of the Elite Four. It just brings and entirely different energy to the experience. And I found I really liked that. During the first few gym battles, I wasn’t entirely into it at first, largely because the first few gym fights were incredibly easy. But after they got a little harder, I started to get into the feel of things.

Naturally, the whole huge emphasis on the electric thrill of competition and of huge, bombastic spectacle was tied into the gimmick of this particular game: Dynamaxing. And as lukewarm as I was about Dynamaxing when I first heard it announced (I’m pretty tired of these gimmicks– Z-Moves, Mega Evolutions and the likes), I have to give credit where credit’s due: it was at least tied very thoroughly into the plot and into the fabric of the game. It didn’t feel tacked on, and I wasn’t resentful about actually using Dynamaxing. It may have been a silly gimmick, but it was still enjoyable to use, because it made sense to help entertain the crowds with oversized spectacle, and because there was a certain amount of enjoyment in the added strategy it required. I’m glad I was able to get into it.

I think the highest point for me about the gym challenge experience was when I was facing off Raihan. Here’s the chap they’ve been hyping for a while about facing up against, because he’s the last gym leader standing before you move onto the Semi Finals and the Finals. When you walk through the dark corridor out into the pitch, you can feel the electric atmosphere; you can hear people cheering your name as their new favorite trainer hopeful; and then, Raihan, the man who always acted so casual and smooth and cool, suddenly shows his intense side on the field of battle. He flings out two pokeballs and brags about mixing things up for you with a doubles format and with the weather, and dares you to step up for the challenge.

My two front pokemon come out– Snowdrop, my Frosmoth, and Bazz, my Grapploct. After all that weather bragging, I decide to show him, and have my Frosmoth flip his sandstorm weather over to Hail. Surprised, my opponent acknowledges that was a pretty nice move on my part. I then Blizzard and Superpower his first pair of pokemon out of the picture.

I’m feeling pretty good, and then he sends out his second pair of pokemon. I have no idea what the heck the Duraludon is supposed to be. Then he Dynamaxes it, which takes me a little off guard, as I had expected it later, but of course this is doubles so there is no later. I stall for a little bit, trying to decide what to hit the Duraludon with, and my first few pokemon go down, and the sandstorm kicks back in.

I decide to send out my Corviknight out for Dynamaxing. But I’m still floundering over the best tactic for this unfamiliar pokemon. I try Max Airstream to see how much it does, but it’s not a very impressive chunk. Then his Sandaconda gets a Glare off on my Corviknight, which is a pain. I waste one of my Dynamax turns getting paralyzed. I’ve fainted several other pokemon in the process of things. I start to think I’m toast and I’ll need to replay the match. Then I realize this stupid-looking Duraludon is, of course, a Steel type. I’d just recently put Body Press onto my Corviknight for some move variety. On my final Dynamax turn, I use it. It utterly destroys the Duraludon, which had just lost its Dynamax.

My own Corviknight falls back down into its normal state. There’s only one pokemon left on either one of our teams; his damned Sandaconda and my half-health Corviknight. The sand is still up, but my Corviknight didn’t mind that at all. It did, however, mind the paralysis and the Fire Fang the snake kept using. Fortunately, Corviknight is still a tanky beast, and I blasted away with Drill Pecks. It was tense, really down to the wire. Would Corviknight tank enough hits to make it? Would he get paralyzed at an inopportune moment?

Fortunately, he makes it, finishing off Sandaconda and taking the match. As I cheer at the victory, my pokemon cheers too, amongst all the swirling sand. The crowd roars, and I feel a genuine respect for my opponent’s skill. It was a good fight. Afterwards, when I returned to the lobby, people were congratulating me on my victory, and it felt truly nice.

Moments like these are not common in pokemon games. At least, they aren’t for me. I had felt everything during that match– the magnificent spectacle of the dynamaxing, the tricks my opponent pulled, his keen desire to win, the crowd’s thirst for a good match, my desire to pull through somehow. As it turned out, after that, I didn’t have battle quite as good. The Semi-Finals and the Finals were a cakewalk for me. Even the Raihan rematch was ridiculously easy. He changed up his team and made it much worse, so that he had different weather-setters for each poke, lacking any team synergey at all. It was a shame. Perhaps the only reason that match was so close was because I had been briefly intimidated over the doubles format and confused over the  Duraludon, but I do wish those magical experiences happened more often.

Indeed, even my final battle with the Champion was a woeful disappointment. I got off one Dragon Dance with Dragapult and swept the whole team cleanly. That brings up another point, though: the difficulty level of this game. It is … well, not very high. It’s a shame. I realize it’s a tricky balance, since this game is aimed at a variety of age levels, and they don’t want it too difficult for the younger audience. Still, it would be nice for Pokemon to implement a ‘hard mode’ to help deal with this issue. Perhaps if they did, we could have more magical moments like the one I had with Raihan.

Character Development & Plot

The low difficulty wasn’t the only thing about Pokemon Sword/Shield that sometimes brought disappointment. At the end of the game, I also found the plot sort of ended up in a no-man’s land. Almost all of the plotlines felt unfinished. Marnie looked like a really cool character full of potential, but then nothing ever really happened with her character. Team Yell ended up being very different from all the other ‘teams’ of the pokemon universe, in that they were just very vocal and sometimes excessively involved fans of Marnie. I actually liked the idea of the ‘team’ not being a group of organized villians up to no good, but Team Yell’s plot ultimately petered out into nothing. The same could be said for other characters. Sonia was a cool-looking character design and again seemed to have a lot of potential as a character, but I never quite understood the point of her plot. She was … uninterested in research, maybe, but became interested? Or was overwhelemed with the work? Or … what, exactly? When she “earned” the lab coat, it didn’t feel like an accomplishment. There was no weight or clarity to her character arc in the slightest. She didn’t even ultimately contribute all that much, because she failed to even be the one to discover the Sword and Shield artifacts.

Again, we find this trend with others, such as Hop’s development. Hop is a cocky, confidant young lad who idolizes his older brother. Eventually he runs into a trainer who throws off his groove, gets into his head with some comments, claiming that he’s dragging his older brother’s name through the mud by being shite at pokemon battling. Then he starts to doubt and second-guess himself, reshuffle his team and his strategies endlessly, and so forth. Eventually, he seems to ‘get over it’ and gets his groove back, but we never are given a really firm reason as to why he gets his groove back. What brought about this change? We need to see why he’s learned and grown. And really, even when he does pull his shit together again, has he really learned much from the experience? I assumed his ultimate lesson would be to see his brother more as an equal, not as someone to idolize; as a human who can self-doubt and make mistakes just like him. But the writers passed up the opportunity to go that way with the plot. They just sort of … gave up halfway.

The most of a glimpse we get from that is something given to us from the animation itself, not the writers. Out on the pitch, during the final battle against Leon, when he’s just about to toss his pokemon out, there’s a moment when he pauses and taps both hands against his face. It’s a subtle little gesture, as if he’s trying to shake off any gnawing self-doubts and get his head into the game, and it echoes his younger brother, who we’ve seen do the same thing. It’s such a lovely little touch, such a human moment, and to me shows that both brothers have been vulnerable to self-doubt despite their swagger, but in the end can overcome it. I only wish the idea were explored further in the actual plot.

The ‘evil plot’ of this particular game also feels only half-baked and incomplete. The motivation behind Rose’s actions feels entirely absent to me, as does any logic whatsoever. What’s worse, the game leaves behind so many lingering questions. OK, so this slumbering Eternatus is the source of all Dynamax power, and he’s discovered the energy will run out in a thousand years or so. How is waking up Eternatus by feeding it Wishing Stars (which, as Magnolia later reports, are bits of Eternatus itself– so, what, feeding  Eternatus pieces of itself?) going to help with that? Will it produce more energy once awake? So he planned on capturing it and … sending it out whenever they needed more energy? Or just keeping it around as a power-giving pet of some sort? But at the end of the game, the player keeps Eternatus for themselves, so doesn’t that mean Galar is sort of screwed now? How can the power plant continue to function (and Dynamaxing) if the source of that power is now inside my pokeball? Also, how exactly did Rose wake up Eternatus to begin with/bring about the Darkest Day? Just release all the energy he had at once? There’s so much that’s confusing and unclear. Basically, the plotline felt very half-baked. I had the sense the writing for this game was frankly very rushed.

It doesn’t stop there. Oleana, the whole thing with Bede, and other characters are left with tons of lingering questions and unfinished plotthreads as well. I suspect the devs simply ran out of time. It’s a huge shame, because I enjoyed all of these characters and felt there was so much potential there, but that potential was never really realized.

Pokemon

This generation has a relatively low number of new pokemon, and you do feel that a little bit as you’re going along. The older pokemon that are mixed in were chosen well, in that they blend naturally with the environments they were placed in, and they’re spaced out nicely, so you encounter a mix of new and old at a nice clip, so they have that going for themselves. But even still, yes, you do start to wish there were a few more surprising faces. Still, there’s definitely fun to be had with new pokemon, especially for some of the cooler Galar regional variants. (I fully support regional variants and am happy they made a comeback in this generation.)

As you’ve no doubt heard by now, there’s also only a very limited set of old pokemon this game has access to. Any species not listed in the Galar dex simply cannot be transferred over. This has upset many people, but when I played the game, it did not feel lacking for that reason. The sheer number of pokemon in the overall franchise is now staggering. It makes complete sense to not include every species in every game now. They intend to include old pokemon on rotation in future games, and that seems like a fair compromise to me. Am I bummed that my favorite Parasect can’t be transferred to Galar? Of course. But I’m not too worked up over the fact. He’ll see another region someday.

To finish this section off, I’m going to do a rapid-fire list of my top 5 and bottom 5 of the new pokemon.

Top 5

Corviknight: An absolutely gorgeous design and easily the MPV of my team.

Wooloo/Dubwool: It’s an adorable ball sheep/ram. You simply can’t go wrong with that. One of the first to be revealed of the new pokes, but I can never get bored with it.

Dragapult: A very creative, lizardy Dragon/Ghost creature that adorably shoots its own babies as ammo. I love it.

Grappaloct: So beautiful. Love its design, its stance, the way one tentacle is a belt, love its colors and pattern, its eyes, its cry, everything. Such a badass and I love octopi in general, so a real winner. This is the octopus we’ve needed for a while.

Snom/Frosmoth: I mean, in some ways its design isn’t revolutionary, since we already have many moth pokemon. However, Snom is still adorable and Frosmoth is still beautiful, something you cannot deny. And it’s been long overdue to get an Ice/Bug. What’s more, Snom is based off real caterpillars (jewel caterpillars), which is wonderful.

Bottom 5

Inteleon: A very distinctive design style that doesn’t look like it belongs anywhere near a Pokemon game. Just feels very mismatched to me.

Alcremie: I hate sentient food. A massive pet peeve of mine.

Applin: See above.

Duraludon: Sorry, but I still think its design is ugly. I can’t get used to it.

Mr. Mime (Galar Variant): No. Mr. Mime is always horrible. Stay away from me. Keep your creepy variant, too.

The Wilds Area

Of course, a review of the game would be incomplete if I didn’t mention the Wild Area. This section of the game was really very lovely. I enjoyed exploring what was essentially Breath of the Wild: Pokemon, and I think it’s a wonderful direction for the game to take. Wandering around, finding goodies, rare pokemon, Dynamax dens and all the rest is very entertaining and it’s just beautiful. Really makes you feel like you’re out in nature exploring, and really encountering pokemon in their natural environment. I’ve read people predicting that Game Freak is using the Wild Area in this game as a test, and something they will probably expand upon in later games. If that’s what they are indeed doing, then I welcome the change. I can’t say I am super interested in fighting wild Dynamax pokemon with my friends, but I did enjoy everything else.

Summary

So, would I recommend this game to others? It would depend on who you are. If you’re a big pokemon fan, then yes, of course. You’ll enjoy the beautiful locations to explore, the new pokemon, and the excitement of the Galar sports arenas, as well as some colorful characters. However, you are going to find some flaws. The plot and character arcs are going to eventually end up a little lacking, and you’ll find there’s not as much new content as you’d have preferred. While some aspects of this game are very well polished and complete, others feel rushed. Overall, it’s going to be a mixed experience, but I think that if you like pokemon, you will still enjoy it.

This is a repost on a new blog. The original post was on Jan 1, 2020.

[magioftheseas]

Multiples of 10 for the Dangan ask thing!

Under the readmore!!!

10. What would be your Ultimate Title?

Ultimate Good But Not Great. I don’t actually know.

20. Who do you think is an overrated character?

For dr1, Junko, Ishimaru, Celes, and Kirigiri. For dr0, Junko. For sdr2, Nanami, Gundam, Souda, and Mikan. Also Junko. For DRAE, Junko. For Killer Killer, Junko. For dr3, Nanami. And Junko. For v3, Ouma and Maki. And Junko.

30. Which character would’ve deserved to survive?

In v3 I felt like every character who died deserved to survive more than the actual survivors. :’D

In dr1, um… Ehhhh? I mean obviously they all deserve to live but the story isn’t worse for any of them dying. Ishimaru’s death could’ve been less unceremonious, I suppose.

In sdr2, they all survive but fucking Saionji still way deserved to make it to the endgame.

In dr3, every character who died except for Chisa and probably Izayoi deserved to survive more than the actual dr3 survivors. (Discounting the dr1 kids. Leave the dr1 kids alone. Sakura didn’t fucking die for this.)

In drae, Taichi. Yuta’s death sucked but it at least left a lasting impact. Taichi just dies for tragedy porn’s sake.

In dr0, FUCKING GUESS. it’s matsuda.

40. Favourite culprit?

I mean… Sakura. Obviously. Or Mondo if we’re talking an actual murderer.

In sdr2, it’s Peko.

In v3, it’s Kaito.

Overall, Sakura and Kaito.

50. Favourite game design?

Uhhhhhhhhhhh.

Sdr2, I think! :’D

60. Saddest moment?

In dr1, Sakura’s letter and the fallout of Chapter 2′s trial, probably. Naegi getting thrown under the bus in Chapter 5 was pretty bad, too.

In sdr2, also the fallout of Chapter 2′s trial. But Hinata’s breakdown in Chapter 6 was really, incredibly heartbreaking! Komaeda also in general… Uuu…

In dr0, Matsuda… Uuu… ;;

In drae, Komaru crying after Touko hugs her. And Nagisa’s breakdown.

In dr3, Juzo’s death is the clear victor. Still cried over Kizakura tho.

In v3, Ouma having his breakdown in Kaito’s flashback. Also Saihara’s downward spiral. Yeah.

70. Character you would have a sleepover with?

Sayaka, Sonia, Koizumi, Komaru, Miaya, honestly Ryouko, Kaede, Tenko, Tsumugi, and Kirumi.

80. Hope or Despair?

Hope for the future!

90. Do you like Junko?

That sure is a question. And this sure isn’t an answer.

100. Opinion on all the Protagonists!

Dr1 - Naegi’s simplicity and resolve are not to be undermined! Just because he’s simple doesn’t mean he’s not a great character and protagonist to follow! He’s absolutely deserving of his role, fuck you!

SDR2 - Hinata is a remarkable foil to Naegi and that he’s more emotionally uncertain and shaky really makes for a character you can resonate with rather be inspired by. That said, the way Chapter 6 uses dead waifu powers to pull him out of rut is a huge misstep when the theme of sdr2 is future. You can’t use the past as a crutch if you’re supposed to move on, y’know?

DR0 - Both Matsuda and Ryouko are fantastic protagonists and focus characters in different ways. Matsuda’s incredibly layered and proactive. And Ryouko gives a very unique perspective and her genuinely fucked up situation makes for some really harsh, heavy, complicated moments. Not to mention the twist at the end which makes matters a lot clearer. Now if fucking only that shitty “all according to keikaku” bullshit wasn’t a thing.

DRAE - Two solid character arcs! For dual female protagonists! That’s really neat! Komaru and Touko are definitely among the strongest parts of DRAE, both as our leads and as their relationship being the emotional core. Pretty satisfying stuff here! Some of the details could’ve been better but overall this is good shit. Even Syo gets some good character moments and character development. It may be the black sheep of the games, but it’s one of the brightest stars in this regard!

DR3 - HAHAHAAAAAA. Naegi literally does close to nothing in the last couple of episodes, Chisa is a shallow fucking plot device and a tool for man pain, and Hinata spends most of this shit MIA and then bursts in at the last minute as a very convenient Deus Ex Machina. Dr3 has no fucking idea how to write a protagonist much less any of its protagonists.

Killer Killer - I only read the second half of this so I don’t have much of an opinion. Whoops. I think Takumi’s at least alright though. I guess. That dumb ending left too much of an impact for me to really think about anything else.

V3 - Kaede was well-written and very dynamic. In Chapter 1. And Chapter 1 alone. Saihara meanwhile, um… Well his character arc is kinda just thrown out the window in Chapter 6 so he doesn’t get any real closure thus no real development. Like he’s still needy, codependent, and still has no idea what to think so he’s just rolling with whatever? Has he really changed at all? I guess he accepts that this is just the kind of person he is, but that wasn’t really what his conflict was even about? Also isn’t it kind of bad to just be like “how I am, flaws and all, is fine”? Like stagnancy is supposed to be a bad thing, right? Also his role as a detective is something he never reconciles with even when it’s continuously forced on him despite how much he doesn’t enjoy it and when it’s something he isn’t even particularly good at? Saihara’s writing is all over the damn place in general so I’d hesitate to even call him a good character but as a protagonist? Yeah he’s weeeeeeeeak. Easily the weakest and poorly defined of the games.

[edsbrak]

CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 Coming Soon

Read on Ao3 | New Kid AU

It's senior year and Eddie is determined to get through it with ease while also scared about what awaits him on the other side. But then a new kid arrives in town and turns Eddie's life completely upside down, in ways he never would have expected.

Tags: Modern Setting, Strangers To Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Coming Of Age

Chapter 3: Hazy On My Mind (6.7k)

To absolutely no one’s surprise, Sonia Kaspbrak doesn’t allow Eddie to return to school for the remainder of the week.

Eddie was used to being bedridden. He usually spent his time listening to music or watching appropriated shows along with his mother downstairs, and he always took advantage of any opportunity to convince his mother to buy him various things so as to get her out of the house for some peace to his state of mind.

Over the years Stan and Bill had often tried to stop by and visit him, and most times Eddie’s mother would let them in on account of how she could trust them to be clean. But she would keep them on the clock and usher them back out when she saw fit, worried that too much interference from outside might contaminate Eddie further.

Most of this was fine, he guesses. It was a routine Eddie was used to and after a handful of carefully monitored days had passed he would return to his daily life and be with his friends once again.

Only now, as the remaining school days slowly passed by, all Eddie could think about was Richie Tozier and how different things were already becoming.

So instead of trying to pass the time by staring at a screen all day, Eddie spent most of his time upstairs in his room, hidden under his blankets and listening to the mixtape Richie made him over and over again, all the while chewing his bottom lip and wondering what the other boy could be doing in that moment in time.

He pictured Richie biking to school by himself. He could imagine Richie chatting with Stan in English class since Eddie wasn’t there for him to annoy. Had Stan and Bill continued to invite Richie to sit with them at lunch even when Eddie wasn’t there? How much did Stan and Bill actually enjoy having Richie around? Or was Richie hanging out with them just to be polite?

Eddie tries to fight away the trembling of his lower lip and instead exhales long and slow.

He knew better than that, of course.

What Eddie just couldn’t seem to wrap his head around was how much the thought still continues to scare him. Mere weeks ago he always caught himself wanting to invite Richie along with whatever he and his friends were doing, then felt relieved when things just continued on as they regularly do. He felt like he was getting whiplash from every conflicting feeling that would manifest whenever Richie was around him.

But something that had surprised him greatly was reading the essay topics Richie had given him that first night he was sick. He read over it once to check his research, then read it again, and after the fifth time Eddie had finally lowered the paper and frowned down at the ground, because…

Richie was really, incredibly smart.

For most of his life, Eddie always tried to never judge a book by its cover. But as far as first assumptions go, Eddie was usually on the money. But with Richie, so far every new piece of information Eddie learned about him just added to the intrigue. He was far from that bad boy stereotype Eddie had met on that first day, and by just simply reading Richie’s essay Eddie couldn’t fathom why the other boy didn’t just simply put in the effort and pass his classes with flying colours.

Still, Richie hadn’t tried to stop by again since Wednesday, and Eddie tries to tell himself he was fine with that. But then he’ll listen to the tape again and find himself wishing Richie was here so he could ask him the million questions that still continue to float around his head.

By the time Sunday rolls around, Eddie is itching to leave the house and do absolutely anything else other than use an entire bottle of vapour rub on his chest every day. And as if hearing his pleas from across town, a miracle presents itself in the form of ol’ Big Bill.

“Eddie? Eddie are you there? Over.”

It was faint, thanks to his walkie still being inside the box under his bed, but nothing could stop Eddie from listening out for any signs of his friends. He pulls it back out quickly so as not to miss his chance.

“Bill, it’s me. What are you guys doing? I need rescue, over.”

His reply is immediate. “We’re heading to the Aladdin. Want me to call your house? Over.”

Eddie is already putting on his shoes before Bill is finished. “Yes, please. Call in five minutes. Over.”

“Roger that, over.”

Eddie hides the walkie again and loads up his fannypack in preparation for his mother. Once he’s ready, he heads downstairs as casually as he can, passing the time by looking in the fridge and soon taking a seat next to his mother in the lounge room. She doesn’t appear to pick up on a change in behavior, so Eddie counts it as a win. Finally, the phone rings, and as not to arouse suspicion he stays sitting and allows his mother to answer it instead.

“Yes, who is it?” answers Sonia.

Eddie can’t hear Bill on the other end, but he knows his friend is playing up the most innocent voice to influence Sonia’s reigns. Eddie is also pretty sure she pity’s him slightly for his stutter.

“I’m not too happy about Eddie leaving the house yet, Bill,” says Sonia, and Eddie fakes his surprise and bounds over to her.

“That’s Bill? Ma, please, please can I see my friends? I feel so much better, honest,” he insists, plastering on a smile.

She eyes him momentarily as Bill, presumably, pleas into her ear as well. Eddie holds her gaze when she finally answers them. “Alright. He will meet you there. Goodbye.”

Eddie screams internally, hardly believing it worked. “Thank you, ma. I have all of my meds, and I won’t be home late, I promise—”

“Hold on,” she interrupts with that sickly sweet voice. “I’ll only allow you out if I drive you there and pick you up afterward. Okay?”

Eddie pauses, swallowing his frustrations and instead nods, figuring it’s the best he can do for now. “Okay.”

“Good,” she says, and reaches for her keys. “Your friends better have picked a tasteful movie to see.”

As soon as she drops him off, she’s already going on about taking his meds exactly on time, so he needs to listen out for his wristwatch during the film. Eddie humour’s her in an effort to see her off faster, and as she drives away he practically runs inside and searches around frantically for Bill and Stan. He doesn’t see them, so he ambles around while he huffs on his inhaler few times. He spies the arcade and then pulls out the money his mother gave him. He has some extra, so playing a game or two wouldn’t hurt.

When he steps inside the adjacent room, he finds it’s quite packed. But even amongst all of the chatter and noise of the machines, one particular voice happens to stand out.

“Richie?”

Said boy looks over to him quickly before snapping back to the game he’s still playing.

“Eds! What a pleasure, glad to see you’re up and about!” he crows, stabbing at the buttons hard and fast. Eddie walks over until he’s at Richie’s side and peaks at his score.

“Holy shit, you’re good,” says Eddie, not even hiding his surprise.

“Oh, no—” says Richie, and makes the final blow. The screen instantly flashes ‘New High Score’ as Richie turns to him with a grin. “—I’m the best.”

Eddie scoffs a laugh. “Nice to hear you’re still as humble as ever.”

Richie shrugs cheekily before cracking his knuckles. He’s wearing another Hawaiian shirt today, although the colours are more faded than his last shirt. There are also several band-aids plastered over his hands, and Eddie can’t help but notice they need changing. But before he can bring them up, his name is being called from the arcade’s entrance.

“Hey, Eddie!”

That’s Bill, and next to him is Stan looking slightly out of breath. Eddie figures they got caught up somehow and biked over here in a hurry. They both spot Richie next as they amble closer.

“Hey, Richie,” greets Stan with a wave.

“Sup you guys,” says Richie, and throws them both a wink. Eddie frowns and wonders if they arranged for Richie to meet here too.

“Nice to s-se-ee you enjoying what Derry has to offer,” says Bill, gesturing to their surroundings. “W-we didn’t know you l-luh-liked arcade games.”

“Oh, absolutely,” says Richie, leaning back on a machine. “Street Fighter’s my pride and joy. I was surprised to find it all the way out here. So, you guys seeing a movie or something?”

So they hadn’t planned anything together, thinks Eddie. But then guilt strikes him and suddenly it feels strangely weird to not at least invite Richie to join them.

“Yeah, Jurassic Park’s still showing, so we’re going to see it again,” says Stan with a shrug.

“You wanna join us?” asks Eddie before anyone else can. He turns to face Richie head on, offering a soft smile as he rubs nervously along his arms. Richie’s posture seems to perk up a little bit, almost surprised, and then he’s slinging an arm around Eddie’s shoulders. Eddie’s starting to find he likes the closeness.

“Sure, Eds. That’s cool with you guys?” he asks Stan and Bill, and they both smile and nod in answer.

They all leave the arcade and make their way over to the ticket booth. Old Lady Bertha sits behind the glass partition as per usual, her beehive comically large with a cigarette perched on her left ear. Bill pays for Stan’s ticket as well, since Stan had paid for them both last time. Eddie purchases his ticket and is glad he still has enough to buy some Milk Duds at the candy bar. There’s a tug at his arm and Eddie looks over to Richie questioningly.

“Hey, uh,” says Richie, and then clears his throat as he looks around. “Listen, I’m… kind of a pain when it comes to watching movies. I mean, I have trouble with focusing and tend to narrate throughout most of it. So I figure I can just… sit away from you guys, I guess.”

It’s impossible to miss the lilt of embarrassment in Richie’s confession. He thinks of Richie sitting next to him in English class. He thinks of the effort he put into helping Eddie with their assignment. Mind made up, Eddie is having none of this.

“No way,” insists Eddie, trying to catch Richie’s gaze. “And besides, we’ve seen it already, remember? I’d love to hear what you have to say about Dr. Hammond’s ridiculous park scheme and if Newman’s death was really necessary.”

Richie appears taken aback by Eddie’s answer, and there’s a long moment where neither of them say anything, with only the popping of popcorn to fill the silence of the foyer. Then that familiar grin stretches its way across Richie’s face, and Eddie feels proud to know that he did that.

“So you’re a Seinfeld fan, huh?” says Richie and proceeds to rub his hands together gleefully while wagging his eyebrows. “Alright, get ready Eds, for your mind is about to be blown. Away.”

Eddie can’t help but roll his eyes, but its effect is thrown off by the smile he can’t seem to wipe off his own face. They follow Stan and Bill into the theatre and find some decent seats up the back. Eddie’s glad they haven’t missed any of the previews for upcoming films.

“I fucking love the ads before a movie,” whispers Richie, and his breath is warm near Eddie’s ear. Eddie shivers involuntarily.

“The ads? Why?” asks Eddie, and feels Richie’s leg bounce against his occasionally.  

“For the jingles, obviously,” says Richie, and immediately begins to sing along with an ad for poptarts.

As it turns out, Richie was right; he manages to find something to comment on every few minutes during the film, and honestly, Eddie was mildly impressed, quite enjoying the voices Richie put on during certain scenes. And for almost the entire length of the film, Eddie catches himself looking at Richie almost more than the screen. He tries desperately to ignore the reasons behind it.

*

Eddie’s mother had meant every word about curfews and had picked Eddie up after the movie, right on the dot, and Eddie waved goodbye to his friends and said he’d see them tomorrow. They had all waved back with sad smiles, and Richie in particular had looked disappointed in a way Eddie thinks he must have imagined.

The drive home had been quiet again, aside from a question his mother asked.

(“That other boy, the one who dropped off that assignment last week – who is he?” she presses, always suspicious about any new people Eddie hangs out with.

“He’s—” Eddie stops, trying to stay on her good side. “He’s Mr. Chernik’s nephew. He’s a nice guy, ma. Honest.”

She hums lowly in reply, and Eddie tries to not read into it. But even if she were to try and forbid him from hanging out with Richie, Eddie is certain he wouldn’t let that stop him.)

Come Monday morning, Eddie is out the front door and practically skipping down the streets, simply just eager to be out of the house and away from his overbearing mother. He was glad that had only been the first time this year he’d gotten sick. Of course, he still had pills to take throughout the week, but it was a small price to pay if it meant freedom again. As soon as he spots Richie biking down one of the streets to meet him, Eddie is struck by the feeling of how completely normal this all feels, as if he’s been doing it his entire life and not just the past couple of months.

Richie slows to a stop beside him, and Eddie’s gaze is immediately drawn to the curls poking out underneath the maroon beanie Richie is wearing.

“Mornin’ Eds,” says Richie, but Eddie is hardly listening, too distracted by how his heart is suddenly beating faster. “Fuck, it’s been boring without having someone to talk to this past week. Stan and Bill are great, I mean, don’t get me wrong. But there’s something about you Eds that seems to be just right.”

“Huh?” says Eddie. Why the hell can’t I look away? he thinks, eyes still on Richie’s hair.

“Earth to Eds,” says Richie, frowning slightly. He sees Eddie still focusing on him and subconsciously reaches up to his face. “What? Do I… look bad or something?”

Eddie blinks his way back to reality. “Since when do you care about what people think of your fashion choices?”

Richie looks out to the road for a while, almost quizzically. “Uh, never mind, then.”

Eddie feels his mouth pull down at Richie’s dismissive tone. What had he said that was so bad? He thought he was just telling the truth. In quick effort to lighten the mood, Eddie brings up their assignment for English, since they had a class today.

“You’re really smart, Richie,” says Eddie after they’d finished going over the topics again. “Why, um… I mean, I guess I just didn’t expect – it’s only because you doodle a lot, so it surprised me when you finished the paper so easily.”

Richie laughs, but it’s mostly humourless. “Thanks. It’s… people like to assume the worst in me when they meet me. It pisses me off, and I just…”

When he trails off, Eddie finishes for him. “Sorry, I know it’s probably none of my business.” Eddie hates it when people expect more of him – his mother, namely.

“It’s fine,” says Richie, and he sounds more genuine this time.

They continue on, and with a bout of confidence, Eddie finally admits, “Your hat. It looks good.”

Eddie is sure Richie goes to look at him in surprise, but Eddie’s not sure he wants to know what expression he’s sporting.

And then, finally: “Eds, you smooth talking son of a bitch.”

Eddie learns then that he doesn’t need to see Richie’s face – that proud grin is displayed clearly in his voice.

*

Come Friday, and everything feels as if it’s fallen back into place. Eddie’s not entirely sure when it fell out of place, but things felt good. Great, even.

Even better, Bill was telling them all at lunch that his parents were out of town for the weekend, and that always meant a sleepover at Big Bill’s. He would be looking after Georgie as well though, but that had never stopped them from watching movies well into the night or sneaking some of Bill’s dad’s liquor.

“Well I’m always in,” says Stan, elbowing Bill’s side. Bill smiles back softly. “You too, Eddie?”

“Definitely, for as long as I can,” groans Eddie, already imagining how great it’ll be to leave his house for a day or two.

“Richie, h-h-how about you?” asks Bill.

“Fuck, I wish I could. I promised my uncle I’d help him at the shop tonight,” he sighs, poking idly at his wholeweat sandwich. Eddie feels a wave of disappointment wash over him.

“But, hey, we’ll be there all weekend. There’s always tomorrow, right?” says Stan.

Richie grins after a moment passes. “Yeah, Stan The Man. You guys can’t keep the Trashmouth away too long. Ain’t that right, Eddie Spaghetti?”

“Where are you getting these nicknames, oh my god,” whispers Eddie, mostly to himself.

Eddie almost counts down the minutes until the end of school. He’ll have to go home first before heading over to Bill’s place. He can only hope his mother will let him go without putting up much of a fuss.

Like clockwork the bell rings exactly on time and Eddie packs up his homework for the weekend and waits for Richie by the school’s entrance. A few people bump into him roughly as if he weren’t standing there, knocking his books to the ground, and before Eddie can snap at them Richie appears at his feet.

He gathers up Eddie’s stuff and hands it to him, eyeing off the other students as they walk away.

“They’re jerks.”

“Yeah,” says Eddie absentmindedly, not understanding why he feels unexpectedly shy from Richie’s actions.

Richie grins at him, like they’d just shared a secret. He jerks his head as he says: “I can’t ride home with you, Eds, sorry. Uncle needs my help already.”  

“Oh,” says Eddie, shuffling his books around in an effort to appear nonchalant. “Whatever, that’s fine. You go do you. Go… help. Um… bake stuff. Yeah.”

Richie frowns, but he’s still smiling. “Good pep-talk, nothing can stop me now,” he teases.

“Shut up,” says Eddie, hoping his flush isn’t noticeable.

“You’re unbelievably cute, Eds,” laughs Richie, and Eddie doesn’t even get a chance to react before Richie is riding off down the street.

Sneaky bastard, thinks Eddie, face even redder. He’ll definitely be breaking into some liquor tonight.

*

Luckily, against all odds, Eddie manages to leave his mother to herself for the night as he heads out the door. As far as she knows, it’s just going to be him, Stan and Bill. While technically true, perhaps she doesn’t need to know about Richie possibly joining them. He could save that for another day.

He leaves his bike in Bill’s shed once he gets there, and he walks into the house through the back door.

He can already hear his friends talking heatedly in the lounge room, but before he can make it in there a smaller body crashes into his side and nearly knocks him right over.

“Eddie!”

Eddie laughs, bringing his arms up to pat at Georgie’s back. “Hey Georgie. How’s my favourite Denbrough brother?”

Georgie laughs cheekily, stepping back so he can look up at Eddie. “I’m great! Are you staying over tonight because our parents are out?”

“You bet,” says Eddie, following the sounds of increasing grunts to find Bill and Stan wrestling it out on the floor, a video tape being held out of reach. Georgie sighs dramatically next to him as they watch on.

“So immature,” he drawls out, and Eddie snorts.

Eventually they manage to stop the play-fighting when Eddie gives Georgie the tape and tells him to go and hide it somewhere. No matter how many times Stan insists on it, Eddie refuses to watch Firewalker more than once in his lifetime. They all settle down, with Eddie on the recliner as Bill and Stan take up the couch. Georgie comes back and they decide on watching E.T. just to keep things family friendly for Georgie.

Georgie acts out a lot of the scenes throughout the film, mainly for Eddie, and when it comes to the infamous goodbye scene Eddie takes charge and acts out E.T.’s lines for Georgie’s benefit.

“I’ll be right–” Eddie drops his finger slowly down to Georgie’s heart. “–here.”

Georgie giggles, a small whistling sound escaping through the gap in his front teeth. Eddie smiles, and looks over to see Stan and Bill both eyeing him without shame. Bill is laughing into Stan’s shoulder, while Stan gives him a knowing look practically dripping with tease. Eddie pulls a face that perfectly equals flipping them off and returns his attention to the movie.

It’s now nearing dinner and Eddie feels his stomach grumble, obviously not satisfied with the few potato chips he had shoved in his mouth an hour earlier.

Bill’s parents always had leftovers in their fridge, only nothing was really reaching out to Eddie’s interest, and apparently not for his friends either.

“Hey,” says Bill, eyes lighting up. “I forgot – my p-parents gave me some money. We could use some to order in, m-m-maybe?”

“There aren’t that many places that order in, though,” says Stan, popping open a Coke from the fridge.

Eddie has a thought, and he tries his best to act casual. “What about the pizzeria?”

“Oh, yes please, pizza!” yells Georgie, jumping about excitedly. Eddie knew he could get the kid on board.

“Sounds good to me,” shrugs Stan.

Bill goes to pick up the phone, ordering their usual pizzas plus garlic bread, because duh. He thanks them and hangs up, saying it’ll be no more than half an hour. To appease Georgie, they all let him pick another movie, and Eddie tries not to count down the minutes until their pizza was supposedly meant to arrive. Georgie ends up sitting with Eddie in the recliner, too, and Eddie becomes distracted by the time the doorbell rings and Bill gets up to pay.

When there’s another voice at the front door Eddie settles Georgie down to listen in, and soon learns his predictions were correct. He gets up and makes his way over to Bill – to help him carry the food, of course, because he’s an amazing friend like that.

“Hey, Eds!”

Richie’s voice sends an odd shiver along Eddie’s arms, and he finds himself smiling back almost instantly.

“I totally f-fuh-forgot you were the delivery boy,” Bill was saying.

“Well I didn’t even realise this was your house,” says Richie.

Eddie laughs nervously. “What a coincidence, huh?”

Bill eyes him knowingly, because nothing gets past him. “Yeah. Total coincidence.” He hands Richie the payment, plus a tip, and before Richie can hand over the pizza Georgie comes running over to inspect the hold up.

“Eddie, one of the best parts is coming up, you gotta watch it with me!” he says, tugging insistently on Eddie’s hand.

Eddie tells him he’ll be right back and watches as Georgie disappears, the kid not even caring about the presence of his dinner.

“Cute,” teases Richie, and Eddie tries to avoid his eyes. “That your brother?”

Bill nods. “He’s got a m-massive crush on Eddie. It’s adorable, really.”

“I don’t blame him,” winks Richie cheekily, and Eddie nearly has a heart attack, his body thrumming with unrelenting heat.

“Hey, when do you finish work? We’ll be going all night here, p-p-probably,” says Bill.

“Tempting offer,” nods Richie sagely. He looks back out into the street before turning back. “Maybe my uncle’ll let me off early, I’ll ask.”

“It’s fine if you can’t,” blurts Eddie, feeling the need to suddenly say something. “But, yeah… you’re more than welcome.”

Richie bites his lip through a smile, definitely holding back on a laugh. “Thanks. Well, I might see you guys later then. Enjoy those pizzas, I made them with love.”

Richie saunters away and slides back into – presumably – his uncle’s car, and throws them the peace sign as he drives off. Eddie doesn’t realize he’s staring until Bill clears his throat to indicate he’s shutting the front door. Eddie steps back quickly and hurries back to the lounge room to avoid whatever Bill was undoubtedly going to say.  

There’s a vegetarian pizza for Stan, and Eddie helps himself to the Italiano and watches as a spider-web of cheese satisfyingly follows the slice.

When the second movie finishes so does the last piece of pizza as they all offer it up to an elated Georgie. All needing a break from the screen, they head upstairs to Bill’s room and set up some music to play from his portable stereo. Eddie ends up dancing around the room with Georgie, figuring it would be the fastest way to tire the boy out and send him off to bed soon. They settle down on Bill’s bed and pull out Operation, and they all play the roles of announcers as Georgie takes his turn, hyping it up until the final piece is removed.

“I’m the bestest!” yells Georgie as he jumps in victory. “I’m gonna be a doctor when I grow up!”

“If only it were that easy,” says Stan as he packs the game away.

“Hey, Georgie, I t-think it’s time for bed, yeah?” says Bill, smiling kindly. Georgie deflates, predictably, but he’s always listened to Bill from a very young age. So they leave the room to go through the bedtime routine, and Eddie flops back on the bed with a sigh.

“Must be tough, having as many admirers as you do,” says Stan as he lies down next to him.

“Admirers?” asks Eddie, squinting over at Stan.

“Hm? Oh, nothing,” he says, and Eddie frowns harder. “Man, I definitely need a drink, though. Reckon Bill’s dad got anything good?”

“Probably,” says Eddie. “If only we lived in, like, Australia or something – we could almost legally drink already.”

“Europe as well.” Stan turns to face him, looking thoughtful. “Imagine moving there. Anywhere.”

“It’s a nice thought, isn’t it?” agrees Eddie. They fall into silence, but it’s comfortable, and together they wait for Bill to come back to give them the a-okay to finally break into the drink stash.

Bill and Stan go hard and both down a shot of Jameson each, while Eddie mixes his vodka with some pineapple juice. He nurses that while his friends move on to some cans of beer that Bill assures them he can replace before his parents come back. Eddie feels himself begin to loosen up, the burn of alcohol always feeling like the first time again. When he and Bill become momentarily distracted Stan manages to put in Firewalker and claiming they have no choice. Eddie just wonders how he found the tape.

His mind starts to become pleasantly numb as his body sinks lower into the couch, and it can’t be any later than 10 o’clock when the front door rattles again.

Eddie snaps upright, irrationally worried it’s his mother coming to scold him into his next life. Stan goes to open it, and cheers loudly when it’s merely Richie on the other side.

“Hey, guys, Trashmouth made it!” he yells out.

“Stan The Man, what’s up?” greets Richie, accepting the arm that Stan throws around his shoulders.

“The sky,” says Stan, laughing at his own joke proudly.

“Man, I’ve sure missed a lot of the fun already,” says Richie, finally coming into full view.

Bill gets up and pats his chest as he walks by. “I’ll get you a drink, buddy.”

“Actually, can I just have some water?” asks Richie, and Bill shrugs a ‘sure’.

Eddie sips at his drink again, eyeing Richie over the rim of his cup. Stan leans over to whisper something in Richie’s ear, and Eddie stares unabashedly even after Richie catches his gaze. Richie says something back and nods, gratefully taking the drink Bill hands him when he returns.

“Cheers, everyone,” says Richie, and everyone follows suit.

They switched the television back on and found themselves watching some re-runs of The Simpsons, and Richie tries his best to imitate some of the voices. As the night went on Bill becomes increasingly drunker as he drapes himself over any available surface in the lounge room. Eddie laughs a lot when he drinks, while Stan becomes more talkative. Richie plays off them all with ease, joking around and appearing content to simply observe their rowdiness. Eddie sits himself next to Richie on the couch at one point, their sides touching from shoulders to toes.

“What were you talking to Stan about?” whispers Eddie, not knowing if he was allowed to ask.

“Before?” asks Richie. “Oh, I uh… brought some pot, actually.”

Eddie feels his face morph into shock. “You guys have talked about doing marijuana?”

“Yeah, the week you were sick,” explains Richie. He pulls out a small, clear bag from his pocket with two rolled joints inside. “You ever tried it?”

Eddie shakes his head dramatically, subconsciously wrinkling his nose. Eddie wonders where Richie even found marijuana in Derry. Richie grins at him.

“Man, it’d be amazing to see you high, Eds,” he says. Eddie frowns as if to disagree.

“Me? Why?”

Richie stares at him hard, maybe about to answer, but then a body crashes into them after Bill rolls over the back of the couch. They all groan from the impact, but then it’s followed by Bill’s laughter and Stan gesturing to Richie’s stash.

“Can we try it now?”

“Wait, wait,” slurs Bill, and sits up so he’s sprawled across Eddie and Richie’s legs. “Can’t h-have the smell be inside. Stinks. L-let’s go to the roof.”

“No roof sitting while you’re drunk,” says Richie. “C’mon, we’ll go lie on the lawn.”

“But it’s f-freezing.”

“I’ll bring a blanket,” says Stan, and Bill cheers as if Stan had just invented the idea of layering up. They all step outside and it is, in fact, pretty fucking cold. Eddie had grabbed some more blankets to lie down on the grass, because even if it was cold, he was in the mood for looking up at the stars tonight.

Stan and Bill cuddle up together on Richie’s right and Eddie takes his left. Richie sits up while he pulls out a joint and his lighter, holding it close for a moment before taking the first, long drag. There’s very little breeze so the exhaled smoke lingers around them for a moment, and Eddie makes a small noise at the smell.

“Eds, you wanna try it?”

Eddie squints at Richie, contemplating. His hesitation causes Richie to add on: “It’s cool if you don’t.”

“Eddie’s asthma might act up,” tuts Stan, obviously just looking out for him. He too sits up before Richie passes along the joint.

“When have you done this before?” Eddie asks Stan, feeling out of the loop.

Stan draws in a puff, coughing once after he’s done. Bill takes it next, leaning onto Stan for support. “My cousin had some last year when he came to visit – thought it’d be cool to try it with you guys.”

Bill gives off vibes of a pro in the making, seemingly indifferent when he’s finished.

“Shit, you guys are gonna be feeling this tomorrow, what with all of the drinks you’ve had as well,” says Richie, wincing a bit. Eddie tries not to freak out too much, watching his friends closely out of concern.

“It’s cool,” Stan waves him off. “We’ve got a whole day to recover.”

Richie laughs, sounding impressed. Eddie watches everyone for a while longer, simply letting their presence relax him back down onto the blanket, and as they chatter away he busies himself by closing his eyes, letting any and all thoughts drift him away into a world of possibilities. It’s nice, comforting in a way Eddie doesn’t get to experience that often these days. He feels lucky in that moment.

Perhaps a decent amount of time had passed, because there’s a nudge at his shoulder and a worried voice near his ear.

“Eddie? Eds? You still alive down there?”

It’s Richie, and he nods back without opening his eyes. “Course I’m alive, stupid.”

“Was so worried,” says Richie, and now there’s a hand on Eddie’s cheek. “What would I do without you? Eds, c’mon, open your eyes, need to be absolutely sure you’re not dead.”

By now most of the alcohol in Eddie’s system had died down, so now it was harder to relate to another person’s illogical rambling. He complied to Richie’s request anyway, looking up at Richie with a pointed stare. Richie’s hand was really warm, though, and Eddie wasn’t sure if he wanted it gone or to stay there forever.

“Guys, guys,” calls Richie over his shoulder. “Eddie’s alive, we’re good.”

There’s a grunt and a ‘Thank God’ from Bill. Richie looks back at him, and Eddie isn’t sure what to say. Eventually, he puts on his brave pants and says: “Maybe I will try it…”

Richie blinks owlishly. “Hmm? Oh, the pot, yeah? Nice, that’s my brave Eddie Spaghetti.”

“Don’t talk about food right now, man,” groans Stan. “I’m so hungry.”

“Bill? Can I use your shower tomorrow? I don’t want my mum smelling it on me,” says Eddie, chewing his lip and wondering if this is a good idea or not.

“Sure Eddie,” says Bill.

Richie tries to help Eddie up but just ends up laughing at his own clumsiness. He pulls Eddie close, guiding him through it slowly, and Eddie instead becomes distracted by the freckles across Richie’s nose.  

“Okay, you got this,” says Richie, holding it near Eddie’s mouth. Eddie ends up placing his hand over Richie’s to keep it steady. “Take a long drag, slowly, and then hold it in for as long as you can before releasing.”

Eddie tries, not sucking in enough the first time, but managing more on the next. The sensation of it was completely lost on Eddie, and he can feel the effect of the drug warm up his lungs and chest. He becomes distracted by Richie again and holds it in too long, coughing up puffs of smoke through a scratchy throat and feeling his eyes water. Richie curses and rubs his back, and Eddie fumbles for his inhaler and takes several hits.

When he calms down he can sense multiple concerned eyes on him, and Eddie reassures his friends he’s okay.

“It’ll take a while before it really hits you,” says Richie, still very close. Eddie nods, and then shivers involuntarily.

“Ah, you cold?” asks Richie, already lying back down and opening his arms wide. “C’mere.”

“What?” asks Eddie incredulously.

“Cuddle with me,” Richie says in an exhale.

“C’mon, Eds,” Stan pipes up. Eddie looks over to see Bill already tucked comfortably into Stan’s side, like it’s no big deal. Eddie blinks rapidly, wondering when his friends became so shockingly cavalier about this kind of behavior. It makes his heart beat faster, seeing that kind of affection play out so casually between other boys, even when they’re his friends. “It’s nice. Join us.”

Richie makes another gesture with his hands, and finally Eddie lowers himself down and into Richie’s awaiting arms, telling himself it’s only because he really despises the cold.  

“Damn, you’re freezing, Eds.”

“And you’re… warm,” says Eddie, but his hazy mind poses it like a question. With his ear now pressed to Richie’s chest, Eddie can hear his own heartbeat even clearer now, and he scrunches his eyes shut and prays desperately for it to calm down. It doesn’t, especially when Richie goes to rest a hand over Eddie’s waist as his fingers rub in soothing motions. What would ma think if she saw me? Eddie panics.

“You do this a lot back in your old town, Rich?” asks Stan.

Eddie feels Richie nod. “Yeah. My friends and I used to hang out behind this bowling alley and smoke a lot. The owner sometimes gave us fries in exchange for a few hits. S’cool.”

“Bet you miss ‘em,” Stan continues and reaches over to pat Richie’s chest clumsily. Bill appears to have fallen asleep, but Eddie isn’t sure.

“Yeah, I do,” says Richie, and it’s almost strange to hear Richie sound sad.

“Tell us about them,” he offers, angling his head up to give Richie an encouraging smile. Richie smiles back tentatively as his grip tightens.

“Well, let’s see…” starts Richie, “There’s Mike, who’s probably the sweetest guy I’ve ever known, and he always carries around food so he can feed any stray animal he finds in the city. I swear he’s like an angel with no wings.”

“Nice,” slurs Stan.

“And then there’s Bev, probably my favourite person ever. I’ve known her since I was three, and she’s someone I can tell everything too, and she never holds back when she thinks you deserve a scolding. I’m positive we’re soulmates.”

Eddie tenses, a question lodged in his throat he’s not even sure he wants answered. His mouth feels incredibly dry, too, which irks him.

“Soulmate? You dating her?” asks Stan, sounding scandalized. Eddie’s not sure why Stan would be upset about that.

“Hm? Haha, what? No, not dating, no,” says Richie. “She’s got a childhood sweetheart, Ben – sometimes you look at them and feel blessed that love like that can still exist, y’know? Ben’s so smart, and so good with her, I’d hurt anyone who hurts them.”

Eddie relaxes again. “They sound nice.”

“You guys can meet ‘em,” says Richie excitedly. “They’re coming up to visit in a couple weeks.”

“I almost feel unworthy,” jokes Eddie.

Richie makes a strangled sound, and using both arms he hauls Eddie up his body further, so their faces are almost in line with each other. Eddie tries to keep his calm again, gripping helplessly at the front of Richie’s shirt. Then fingers are brushing across his forehead repeatedly as Richie attempts without success to curl Eddie’s hair behind his ear. Eddie feels paralyzed as heat consumes his body once again.

“Eds, Eddie Bear,” Richie is saying, giggling uncontrollably. “They’re gonna love you. All of you guys. I couldn’t’ve asked for better friends.”

Eddie’s not sure who he’s talking about. He hopes it’s everyone.

Friends, thinks Eddie. Us.

“Hey, hey,” says Richie. “Stan The Man’s asleep now too. Aw, aren’t they cute?”

Eddie looks over to see Stan and Bill both passed out, limbs still tangled together. It almost looks like a private moment not meant for others to see. Richie is still laughing quietly, and Eddie shakes along with Richie’s bouncing chest. And then Richie stops, almost abruptly and looks suddenly serious.

“Eds,” he’s whispering now. “I never asked – the mixtape, did you like it? You never said…”

Eddie licks his lips, trying to find his voice. Richie sounds like a kicked puppy waiting for his owners loving reassurance.

“I… liked it. It… you really picked all of those songs because you thought I’d like them?”

Richie settles back, clearly pleased with this answer. “Oh, yeah, Eddie Bear. I like to think I got that in-intro-intolu-…”

“Intuition?” supplies Eddie.

“Yeah. That,” says Richie on a sigh. “You sure get me, Eds.”

Eddie wants to argue back, but Richie looks so peaceful now. Instead, he follows suit and relaxes back into Richie’s warmth, and can’t help but realise…

No. It’s you who gets me.

*

*

*

the next chapter will be up much sooner, and I mean it this time ahah! 

let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list! xxx

@just-an-akward-fangirl @trashmouth-smashmouth @jas6236 @klancelets @emptygreyspaces @kikyomibu @kkfra808 @ageorgymi @allycatlovesoakleshineplusphan

[thesinglesjukebox]

TAYLOR SWIFT - NEW YEAR'S DAY [7.44] And we wrap up 2017 with the woman that we always have such high hopes for...

Isabel Cole: Swift's famously concrete scene-setting details have only in recent years begun sounding less like lines culled from a predictive text generator trained on CW scripts and more like human moments caught by someone with a thoughtful ear. Here, they function not as specificity for its own sake but to sketch out both a series of spaces and a state of mind: the exhaustion of girls with heels in hand, the backseat flirtation that whispers possibility, the shock of finding that after an end comes a beginning, maybe, after all. In fact this song has all of her repeating motifs, as well as she's ever done them--her preoccupation with narrativizing her own life (don't read the last page), her fucked up relationship to time as something that takes and takes and yet slips by too fast, her tangled conception of memories as both something precious to be cherished and an unrelenting force from which there is no escape: hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you, she sings, echoing a phrase that bookended her most idiosyncratic album. But New Year's Day is not a retreat into familiar territory tacked onto the end of a record of unsuccessful experimentation. Muted instrumentation complements an uncharacteristically hushed vocal performance that captures, even more than the gentle loveliness of Begin Again, the tentative tenderness of new love for someone who has felt love die not in fire but in ice; please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize everywhere tells a story that creates a person who understands now that love in fact is not a victory march, and heartbreak is no aria. For all her infamy as the girl who will write songs about the boys who dump her, Swift has also woven into her work a version of herself as someone who leaves things that shouldn't be left; what makes her wish for gathering party detritus more believable than her previous playacting at domesticity is what she tells us about why it lasts: but I stay. I stay when I'm scared, I stay when it's hard; I stay, which is something I have learned to do. Locating the power of a love not in someone else's repeated decision to choose you but in your own capacity for remaining present in the face of uncertainty, revering not the luck it takes to be loved but the strength you find in yourself to keep loving, is--well. It's very grown-up. Making this feel like the first song Taylor Swift has truly written as an adult, and more than that: like the song she has spent her entire career learning to write. [10]

Stephen Eisermann: My birthday is on New Year's Eve, so the New Year holiday has always been a very bittersweet one for me. Most people party their night away with the idea that they will wake up as more improved versions of themselves, based only on the resolutions they made a week prior and will forget a week after. It's ritual, but it's a devastating one, really, to want to change so badly that you are willing to drop and forget everything from one year to the next just because you feel like you need to be better. In a quest to better ourselves, we too easily toss aside the experiences, good and bad, that molded us and would rather crumple the paper with our notes for a fresh piece, than bring the key points on to the next paper because maybe we got those key points from something painful... I'm rambling, but there's a point. This past year saw me struggle a lot -- with work, with life, with our country's moral compass -- but I can undoubtedly say that I have never been happier. This, in large part, is due to my boyfriend, who has taught me that you can't let go of unhappiness or darkness, just learn to work with and around it. That piece of advice, however general sounding it seems, has carried me through difficulties this year and I think, with this song, Taylor is saying the same thing. She had a rough couple of years in the media between her album cycles, but some people stuck around for the aftermath -- the cleanup -- and she's eternally grateful and willing to do the rest for her lover and her friends. It's a beautiful feeling, and the lines "hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you" as well as "please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere" are particularly devastating, simply because too many people abandon others they deem unfit solely because they have demons they can't take ownership of, so they'd rather pass the blame to those they love; and that's heartbreaking, especially when accompanied by a sparse, melancholy piano production. [10]

Alfred Soto: Now the party's over, and she's so tired -- even the piano sounds hungover. Taylor Swift, whose contract doesn't allow for hangovers, sounds alert, as if she's been keeping an eye on the condition of the floors all evening. After an album of sometimes compulsive ebullience, "New Year's Day" is supposed to remind listeners of the early Taylor Swift. [6]

Will Adams: A limp olive branch to those who might have been alienated by the EDM production on the preceding Reputation tracklist, "New Year's Day" strips Taylor back to a piano, some guitar, and pretty organ flourishes. Never mind that Regina Spektor wrote this song ten times better a year ago, why leave a ballad at its barest when there's no reason to? [5]

Katherine St Asaph: Taylor Swift makes an album of shamelessly, undeniably pop songs: often missteps, but also big and seething and vital and alive in the way her past glurge never was. Everyone hates it, except on the one song where she regresses back to beige acoustic sap. Rockism lives! "New Year's Day" has the slight edge over the past 20 outings because Swift sounds on occasion like Lisa Loeb. But it's the only thing here that could be called "edge" at all. [3]

Nortey Dowuona: Soft, pulsing piano, barely visible guitar, wailing synths in the corner, dece backing vocals. Tay simply hums without straining. [6]

Thomas Inskeep: Liked Swift out of the box, more with each (country) album, as her songwriting got stronger. Hated her initial pop makeover (wub wub wub). Surprisingly loved 1989. Am indifferent-to-cold on Reputation. And even though "New Year's Day" isn't, necessarily, explicitly country, it's a reminder that she can return to the format whenever she wants. (And her CMA Song of the Year, Little Big Town's "Better Man," is a sterling reminder that her pen has lost none of its punch, even if I find her current popcraft largely lacking.) I think we all know that in an album or two she's likely to make a full-throated return to the format which made her, and we'll be better for it. "New Year's Day" helps smooth that transition, and is nicely underproduced to boot.  [6]

Ashley John: The tender intimacy of stability hides the questions beneath the surface, and in "New Year's Day" Taylor is begging to leave it be. Like Lorde recalling buying groceries in "Hard Feelings/Loveless," Taylor clings to the boring moments shared only between two. The classic Swift specificity is what made Red so good, and we watch her here smartly paying a bit into that savings account each month waiting to cash out on the inevitable full blown country return. But that doesn't matter, now. "New Year's Day" is a treasure I want to keep warm against my chest and share with no one else for fear of them tarnishing it. It is Swift making a moment glimmer with potential and hope by bending time and memory. "Don't read the last page," she asks, and I don't want to. I would rather live in this disillusion before the world wakes up, pretending that we're the only people who've ever been in love like this.  [8]

Alex Clifton: There's so much in "New Year's Day" that made me cry the first time I heard it. The lyric about Polaroids, a clear reference to the 1989 era; the lyrical parallels between "please don't be in love with someone else" from "Enchanted" to "please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I would recognize anywhere"; the lightly waltzing piano in the background, simple but somehow devastating when compared with the overproduced mess that crowds most of Reputation. There's nothing inherently romantic about New Year's Day itself as a holiday; so much stock is put into the night before, all the parties and festivities and anticipation for a new beginning that the day of usually feels like a bleak, empty page. Yet as she always does in her best form, Taylor turns something unromantic like a hangover day into something to pine for. "I'll be cleaning up bottles with you" is so intimate that it almost hurts, like overhearing a snitch of a conversation you weren't meant to hear. It's a far cry from the earnest romanticism shown on former tracks like "Stay Stay Stay," where domestic life was twinkly, cute and fun, backed by toy pianos instead of the real thing. This is the Taylor I've longed for, away from the feuds and self-pity and bad rapping: reveling in the small quiet moments she has always been so good at observing. [9]

Sonia Yang: So many songs about holidays focus on the joy of the moment, that explosive rush of living in the moment; it's what sells. New Year's Day, however, is the subdued reality in the aftermath of such escapist fantasies - "I want your midnights / But I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day" - it's unglamorous, hesitant, and more vulnerable than it lets on. Not everybody greets the new year with bombast and resolutions they plan to keep; it's more likely to quietly clean up the mess and go on with life as usual, with all of the same hopes and fears as you carried before the clock struck midnight. The most painful line is "Please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere", that aching dissonance between familiarity and isolation that Swift does oh so well. A relationship immortalized in glitter-covered Polaroids can end sooner than one realizes, as if to show that no matter how brightly something shines, nothing gold can stay. It's fragility at its most cutting; the most powerful words are whispered rather than shouted. [10]

Danilo Bortoli: In a way, Taylor Swift has encapsuled 2017. Reputation has been met with some divisive, if not lukewarm, reception, proving to be the album we didn't want, yet managed to admit and love its flaws anyway. In a year devoted to uncovering the world's true colors, her narrative, just like her castle, came crashing down. And also in a year where simply coping seems enough, her happiness has even been seen by some as a luxury - or perhaps a felony. "New Year's Day" might suffer from this same fate, as some may listen to it as a forced reconciliation with her inner self "a la Miley", a retreat back from the reckless journey that fits most of Reputation. Yet, it comes off as the truest moment of this era for Taylor: here's to Old Taylor and the embarrassingly long yet remarkable mantras ("Please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere"). As it often happens with her best songs, this one paints a vivid picture, constructing an entire narrative, this time measuring words with a stripped down piano, all suggesting, finally, some closure. It's candid. It's simple. It's heartbreaking. It's all about character, as she has learnt too late.  [10]

Edward Okulicz: The old Taylor is dead, said the new Taylor, but whoever sequenced the album sure was nice to put this throwback to thoughtful, generous, storytelling Taylor as the last thing you hear. The domestic scene she paints is lived-in, cosy, relatable once more. Her optimism comes through, mercifully, without any smugness and it's easily the best set of lyrics she put out this year. Thanks, Taylor(s). [8]

Maxwell Cavaseno: On a certain level, "New Year's Day" is brilliant because it's a sham of a record; nothing here is organic; it's a sea of strums, piano pawings, and musings to sound intimate and sentimental in the way of a singer-songwriter record, and what deep down we somehow understand Swift to be and keep forcing analogies to. It actually is sequenced really badly because, as always, Antonoff is often too clever for his own good and is deliberately making something unnerving and ambitious rather than functional (yet again the bland ambition of Nate Ruess was truly the foil he deserved, a man who could smother his tics to death in brazen tapioca). Swift, who's clearly not giving a shit on this record vocally or in trying to reign him in, is utterly adrift and her talk of glitter and memory just rings as hollow as the other asemblikit elements of the song. This record could easily be more than it is, but its sense of orphaning is pained and senseless.  [3]

Anthony Easton: Listening to the Harry Styles record this year, I was wondering (and hoping) that Taylor had reached the end of her experiment with taste, and would make something resembling a Laurel Canyon record. Hearing most of Reputation, this was obviously not the case. It was interesting, because it seemed like both Lorde and Saint Vincent made albums which took the sonic experimentation of 1989 in new and difficult directions, trusting Jack Antonoff to take care of their aesthetics, pushing and deconstructing this kind of electronic thicket that marks populist taste right now. (See Craig Jenkins essay in Vulture.) I think that I overrated this single because it provided something new, not quite a rapprochement to old Taylor (if Old Taylor was dead, then who is singing this lovely, old fashioned ballad--a ghost, a zombie, something more technologically advanced) but also not something quite new. I always worry about misogyny when I say these things, that liking the pretty song is not liking the angry song (false dichotomy I know) or liking the ballad and not liking the more abrasive songs, but the ballad is so beautiful, lush, self aware and exquisitely sung, even more exquisitely produced This might be the most conservative thing she has produced, the most republican thing--in the moneyed, tightly private idea of pleasure, but also in the idea that those kind of pleasures are well guarded---thinking of the sexual harassment law suit, thinking of the failure of her kind of me-first feminism, that this is a kind of weaponized good taste, explicitly against the vulgarity of current pop, or current discourse, after an hour of trying to be as vulgar as more interesting pop stars, keeps prodding that Laurel Canyon vibe. It's slippery and fascinating, and probably less good than I want it to be.  [7]

Andy Hutchins: The story of "New Year's Day," in part, is that it was Taylor finding a use for the line "Please ... don't / Ever become a stranger / Whose laugh ... I / Could recognize anywhere" -- a strong bit of writing from someone whose fantastic songwriting chops have been wasted on too many attempts to veer away from being the evolutionary Carole King she could be with nearly no exertion. But even though I know too many strangers whose laughs I could recognize anywhere to not tear up at that line, the one that makes my breath catch is "I want your midnights / But I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day." Swift is at her absolute best when she nails the ordinary details it does not beggar belief to think she actually desires -- and when she sings that she wants someone for after the afterparty, it sounds honest and yearning in the way truth and optimism can be. Would that she could focus on that, because I give more damns about it than her reputation. [8]

Jonathan Bradley: Taylor Swift alone somewhere at a piano, playing soft clumsy chords, only half-attentive, barely a melody. "New Year's Day" concludes and recasts Reputation in retrospect; as the unguarded obverse, it accounts for that album's garishness and noxiousness. "New Year's Day" is a song of little details and emotional import, which is another way of saying it is what we have come to recognize as a Taylor Swift song. In this one, she finds in the miniatures of her morning-after tableau -- glitter, candle wax, "girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby" -- a gentle grandeur, and then in that, earnest sentiment. "Don't read the last page," she tells her companion, casting them into a storybook before resolving back into the prosaic: housework and hardships. There are not many songs that do this on Reputation, and, as with "Better Man," casually gifted to Little Big Town, "New Year's Day" is a demonstration that Swift can still do this, that her current work is not a failure to create vividly detailed pop but a conscious rejection of it. Reputation is an album about privacy and turning away from the public; it asserts again and again that there are things in Swift's life that she can refuse to make known. The music and sentiment matches this: it is at times ugly, at others glib, often repellent or anti-social, dangling details before obscuring them in ellipsis or melodrama. "New Year's Day" demonstrates that none of that happened by accident. The old Taylor is dead, but she be summoned at any time: this song casts ordinary life as legend like on "Long Live," voices hopes and fears in the form of mantra as on "Enchanted," and concludes a tumultuous record with a new start like on "Begin Again." It's tender and familiar. It's one of the best songs Taylor Swift has ever recorded. [10]

[Read and comment on The Singles Jukebox ]

[preserving-ferretbrain]

Who Gives a F**k About Charlie Keeper

by Wardog

Tuesday, 09 June 2009

Wardog painfully reviews the self-published Who Is Charlie Keeper.~

I’ve had a busy few weeks. I’ve alphabetised all my socks, de-weeded the back garden and taken a vacation in Vienna but it’s finally got to the point of no return: I think I’m going to have to bring myself to review Who Is Charlie Keeper. I really don’t want Ferretbrain to become the place self-published books come to die, but thus far every self-published book I've read has only renewed my faith in the publishing industry. WICK, as you may have gathered, is a self-published young adult fantasy novel, and it’s, uhh, well...

Come back Jim. All is forgiven.

WICK is borderline unreadable and almost uncertainly unreviewable. Basically, imagine someone came up to you and said “Hey there, I’ve got you a car, come check it out.” And then it turned out the car had no wheels. Yes, maybe, the colour is rather nice, and its fitted with a CD player and sunroof, and the engine might be basically functional but ultimately what you’ve still got there is a car with no wheels.

So, Charlie Keeper is a

mysterious

sassy 12 year old girl who lives in a mysterious house with her amnesiac grandmother because her parents have mysteriously disappeared. Between having her inheritance stolen by the evil lawyer Mr Crow and buying a puppy with her best friend, she is chased into the alternative world of Bellania by the malignant Lord Bane. In which it becomes quickly apparent that Bad Shit Is Going Down and the fate of the world rests upon Charlie Keeper’s reluctant, 12 year old shoulders. There are good guys, bad guys, dragons, adventures,

Quidditch

K’changa, etc etc.

Putting aside for the moment, the fact that WICK is a car without wheels (and I will contextualise this metaphor in a moment), let me try to come up with something positive to say about it. Well, the original artwork that accompanies it is genuinely fabulous. In fact, if the book was even half as good as the art, we’d be laughing. Also Marcus Alexander has a remarkably good ear for dialogue, somehow navigating the spiked pit of accent and dialect without looking like a fool or reducing his characters to offensive stereotype. He’s a sample from Jensen the (Jamaican?) Treman: “Ah’s a Treman. Sweetheart, Ah’ can see yer education is sorely lacking. Who’s yer teacher? Whoever he is, he ain’t doing a proper job. Tell me, little Hippotomai, an’ don’t stomp yer feetsies at me, do ya know wot a Stoman is, or a Human? Eh?” You’d think it would get grating but, somehow, it never does. Overall, WICK romps along at a reasonable pace, and there’s lot of incident, danger and adventure. It’s certainly a colourful book, and it seems to be revelling in its own over-the-top exuberance. You know you’re dealing with a Proper villain when he massacres his own minions and gets all caps-locky about setbacks.

Unfortunately, all this counts for absolutely nothing because there are too many basic problems with the book. Firstly the style itself. I don’t know to what extent we’re dealing with a major slew of typos or if Marcus Alexander genuinely hates commas and wants them to suffer and die at his hands, but the grammar and the syntax through WICK are irregular at best and downright wrong at worst. I’ve skimmed about the internet looking for other responses to it and most of them are positive: “The author's odd use of justification adds extra weight and punctuation on actions, emotive points and speech patterns bringing not just the story but also the characters very much to life. Indeed the book is quite unusual as a whole entity but I would be the first to point out that it connects with today's ambience, fashion and prosetic style.” Hmmmm. Possibly I’m just hideously hidebound but the style is simply neither controlled nor consistent enough to support this interpretation. Here’s a sample:

Powerful muscles bunched and tensed. With long smooth bounds the creature took off. As it ran past the eerily silent columns it realized, with a sinking feeling that it would never reach this mysterious family member in time, the distance was too great. It sensed days of travels lay between the two and it could sense that whatever danger threatened it’s [sic] sibling, was already perilously close.

Or another:

Charlie answering his call, hurried to the lawyer’s study, she knew better than to keep him waiting. Walking straight up to the large leather bound desk she took up a pen and without needing to be asked signed the papers offered by Mr. Crow. She knew she should at least ask what she was signing but she remembered the first time she had plucked up courage to query him; Crow had fallen into such rage, striking her and screaming, that now she dared not question.

And the punctuation lightly and seemingly randomly scattered around the dialogue is enough to bring tears to my eyes:

“Fool! Grab her!” roared the giant, Crow made a lunge for her but tripped over his braces, “Idiot! Dogs come to me, come, your Master commands it.”

It’s more than commas where they shouldn’t be and conspicuous by their absence where they should. Although Alexander occasionally gets off a vivid description or a well-turned phrase, it seems more by luck than judgement a lot of the time and his writing often bogs down in repetition, cliché and an over-reliance on adjectives. Seriously, no noun connected to Mr Crow is allowed out of doors unprefaced by a “skinny”. So Mr Crow is thin, right? I get it. I get it. Please have mercy on me.

I’m no editor but there are equally fundamental issues with the structure of the book itself. The pacing is wobbly to say the least with the narrative either practically thrown into reverse while Charlie eats some spiced bread or we are forced to witness yet another interminable game of K’changa (I hate you JK Rowling, I hate you so much. I yearn for those halcyon days in which children’s books were allowed to exist that did not contain detailed descriptions of spurious sporting activities) and then speeding so rapidly through a succession of incidents that it’s enough to make you get motion sickness. The POV, equally, veers around all over the place and, dialogue aside, the characterisation – especially of Charlie – wavers too. She seems to be scared when the narrative prefers that she’s scared, and feisty when it’s time for her to be feisty. Furthermore, her famed “big mouth” barely lives up to its reputation for causing trouble. Maybe it’s just because she doesn’t have an accent but she seems like a complete void for most of the narrative. We’re told about her qualities (and, of course, her undeniable specialness) but we rarely seem them in action in a way that could make us care about her, or even be remotely interested in her. Alexander’s descriptions of scenery and action are at least nudging towards competence, but the emotional side of it all is completely flat:

Charlie, cheeks blushing uncontrollably, stared into the eyes of the woman who was supposed to be her guardian. Never had she felt such a hate so complete, never had such an anger awoken within her heart. Charlie, that very instant felt something deep within her move and change, something within her soul sickened and died and in its place something darker was born. This was a moment that would be etched eternally into her mind.

She gets over it. She kind of like de Sade’s Justine that way – ill-defined, unchanging and unaffected.

I can’t even in good conscience say that WICK has promise: until it gets some wheels, it ain’t going nowhere. I found it a real struggle to read, partially because I was mourning every tortured comma but also because whatever is good about it is completely eclipsed by its major and fundamental problems.Themes:

Books

,

Sci-fi / Fantasy

,

Young Adult / Children

,

Self-Published

~

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~Comments (

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Rami

at 12:51 on 2009-06-09Ouch. From those excerpts, it seems like a pretty painful read -- but then, I like my grammar to be in more or less the right place. There's a place for bending the rules, but ignoring them like that just makes me wonder if they know the rules in the first place. And looking like you don't know how to write is not, IMHO, a good way to be taken seriously as a writer.

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Arthur B

at 13:12 on 2009-06-09Not only does the author have a strange way with commas, he also seems to urgently need to be introduced to a semicolon or two. Harsh as I was about Jim Bernheimer, but for the most part (aside from the odd "victim's fund" gaffe) his prose was readable, at least in the sense that it was capable of being read without getting a headache.

Maybe it's just because I'm a lawgeek, but does anyone else find it odd that Charlie is asked to sign contract when she's well below the age where she can actually enter binding agreements in the first place, and when there's a grandmother handy who is presumably legally capable of doing all that for her? Mr Crow seems to be as incompetent as he is corrupt.

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Sonia Mitchell

at 23:15 on 2009-06-09I love this review. And feel pity for everyone involved.

It actually sounds a bit Neil Gaiman-ey in intention, though I'm obviously not going to read it and see.

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Wardog

at 14:52 on 2009-06-18Actually this review makes me feel guilty as hell - panning something is never fun, but really, it was all in good conscience I could do.

[netunleashed-blog]

Musical differences – meet the people whose romantic relationships were torn apart by pop

http://www.internetunleashed.co.uk/?p=36144 Musical differences – meet the people whose romantic relationships were torn apart by pop - http://www.internetunleashed.co.uk/?p=36144 You meet a new person. Everything about them is perfect. Then they pick you up in their car and they're rocking out to a Nickelback CD. What do you do? You may very well dump them, finds Nick Levine Any music lover knows that when you start dating someone, you want them to like the same kind of stuff as you do. One of my boyfriends infuriated me endlessly by insisting that my absolute favourite pop star, Madonna, was “past it” and “overrated”. I always took great pleasure in seeing him lose his shit whenever he’d had a few drinks and ‘Like A Prayer’ or ‘Hung Up’ came on in the club. Another former boyf heard an album I really love, Siobhán Donaghy’s cult classic ‘Ghosts’, and said he’d rather listen to “I dunno, Hayley Evetts”. You probably don’t know who Hayley Evetts is because she’s a singer who came fifth on Pop Idol in 2002. Hayley Evetts! I’m getting angry again now just thinking about it, and this is a conversation that happened about 10 years ago. Still, I’m not sure I’ve ever had it as bad as these music fans, who all had a relationships full-on ruined by a partner’s incompatible music taste. Read on and think yourself very, very lucky. The one in an intolerable hip hop/rock fusion band Kim, London: “Pretending to like his band’s music became a chore” “I’d been in London for about four or five months when I met this guy on a dating site. Actually, one of his profile photos showed him playing the drums, which for a young music journalist was really appealing – we had shared interests and he had good arms! So we started dating and at first it was cool going along to his gigs, but I was really into Girls Aloud and Charlotte Church at the time, so his band’s hip-hop/rock fusion didn’t really appeal to me very much. I always had to pretend to like his music and it just got to the point where I couldn’t do it any more. Forcing myself to listen to the CD he gave me and going to his shows all the time just sucked the fun out of the relationship. It ran its course for other reasons too, but the huge divide in our music taste was a major part of it breaking down. I ended things, drunk, at a bus stop in Acton.” The one who spoiled my favourite song Lars, Brighton: “He sang ‘Call The Shots’ by Girls Aloud very loudly and very out of tune as often as possible” “I used to go out with someone who sang ‘Call The Shots’ by Girls Aloud very loudly and very out of tune as often as possible. Looking back, I think that might be the main reason we split up. I still can’t listen to that song to this day. He knew how painful I found it hearing him sing that song, and as our relationship deteriorated he’d sing it right in my face to wind me up. That said, maybe this isn’t so much a ‘taste in music’ thing as it’s a ‘him being a cunt’ thing.” The one who didn’t like any kind of music. At all.  Scott, Glasgow: “He said that when he went to clubs, he just danced because he was out” “I once dated a guy who didn’t listen to music. Like, at all. I met him in a club, fancied the hell out of him and thought I wasn’t in with a chance. But I ended up going home with him – something I wasn’t used to – and it was all good, so I stuck around the next day and being a massive music fan, tried to talk about my favourite bands and singers. But he barely responded and just seemed bored. We went on a few dates and I tried to get him into the stuff I had on in the car, but he wasn’t interested at all. I just couldn’t understand why someone wouldn’t even have, like, a go-to band. He said that when he went to clubs, he just danced because he was out and had no idea what anything was. Eventually I was just like, ‘No pal, sorry, we have nothing in common!’ And that was that.” The one who didn’t respect Luther Vandross Anna, London: “I was incredulous and  angry. He had to go.” “I had a very hot boyfriend who I felt a major sexual attraction to. We dated on and off for about eight months, and even went on holiday together. But one day he said he didn’t like Luther Vandross and his posturing ‘ladies’ man’ style. I pointed out that Luther was in fact gay and suggested that my boyfriend check out his fantastic cover of ‘A House Is Not A Home’. He replied that he didn’t like Burt Bacharach, which left me incredulous and really made me angry, so obviously he had to go. I also mentioned that Teddy Pendergrass was more of a ladies’ man, at least on stage, but that just went over his head altogether.” The one who listened to Disney songs Clara, Margate: “She told me she couldn’t stand Kate Bush’s voice” “I dated a girl for a while in uni who had the worst taste in music. Actually, we were never an item or anything, but we did kind of hang out and hook up for a few months and it was always quite fun. Anyway, all she would listen to was Disney songs or the most basic pop songs – I’m not a snob or anything, I love Little Mix and Dua Lipa, but literally she would only ever put on the most generic radio shit. One day she came round to mine to watch a film and I was playing Kate Bush songs on Spotify. She literally winced as she walked into the room and heard the song, which I think was ‘Babooshka’. She explained that her mum was a big Kate Bush fan and played loads of her music when she was growing up, but personally she could never stand her voice. I was like, how could someone who grew up listening to Kate Bush not fall in love with her? By this point I’d already realised me and this girl didn’t really have very much in common, but slagging off Kate Bush was probably the final straw. We only hung out one or two more times after that.” The one who liked dadrock Callum, Staines: “He was a Rufus Wainwright stan” “When I was at uni I dated a guy who was very dashing but kept saying he “wasn’t into gay music” – by which he meant anything that was “too pop”. I tried to convert him with some success – I know he liked coming to a Robyn gig with me during her ‘With Every Heartbeat’ era. But his love of Rufus Wainwright and all manner of dad rock pretty much sealed his fate. Well, that added to his tendency to slag off Girls Aloud whenever possible. At his core he was a Rufus Wainwright stan and that became exhausting for me – by the end it just wasn’t worth the sex.” The one who didn’t become a goth Jasmin, London: “I still feel sad about what happened. I actually really like Mariah Carey” “We’d been best friends all through primary school, and had a shared love of Kylie and Sonia thanks to daily after-school discos on our Fisher Price tape decks. But when I got into the local grammar school we were separated and I went down a dark path of being a wannabe goth. We stayed BFFs for a couple of years but our shifting musical tastes just proved too much for our friendship to cope with. She got massively into Mariah Carey, but I started listening to Nirvana and Hole and any old generic grunge music. I think it really highlighted how far we’d grown apart and really, it was more than our relationship could take. I still feel sad about what happened, especially as I actually really like Mariah Carey!” The one who hated Belle & Sebastian James, London: “I still hate Belle & Sebastian to this day” “I once went back to someone’s after a date. And this was the date – you know, the date before we spent the rest of our lives at organic farmers’ markets together. As he leaned in, I said, ‘Actually, could you change the radio? I really like you and that’s Belle & Sebastian and I know it sounds weird but I really, really hate Belle & Sebastian.’ He just froze and said: ‘They’re my favourite band.’ Not unreasonably, he then threw me out. It was mad, really, but I remember thinking at the time, ‘He’s going to kiss me and we’re going to be together forever and I don’t want my memory of this magical moment to be the fucking boy with the fucking Arab strap.’ I still hate Belle & Sebastian to this day.   Source link

[svnkixs-blog]

TWENTY EIGHTEEN

As 2017 slowly closes its curtains, a New Year begins to get ready for its time to shine. 365 days and this roller coaster ride finally pulls its brakes and comes to a stop. This year was an eye-opening one, for sure. So much I have seen, heard, tasted, experienced, felt, embraced, tackled, and still I feel so unsatisfied. I had thought I would have everything all figured out for the upcoming year after this one, but no, how wrong I was. Waking up on the last day of 2017, I realized that there was so much that I have on my shoulders to carry into the New Year. Baggage ― fear, regrets, guilt, hatred, sorrow, pain ― that I have yet to put down, accumulated since years ago because of the fear of emptiness without them. Looking back, I think it’s time to put them down and finally give myself the pat on the back that I have well-deserved. Have I even done things worth that pat thought, I ask? Yes. I have. For just being here to type this out and come to a conclusion ― an understanding with myself ― that I can’t and would never be perfect. For just being alive. For just being able to smile from ear-to-ear. For just being positive. For just, being ME. This year, looking back, has given me lots of firsts to carry until my golden days. From 2017 I carry, stories I’ll tell my children and their children. It truly starts here, my life. The moment of truth, if I would even be strong enough to handle being away from the strongest pillars of my life ― my parents. And even the loss of a love I thought I would never experience, not now at least. Something I would never forget and I guess, even more of an eye-opening experience to what life is all about. There is more to this round globe we call Earth; home. It may revolve the Sun but our lives revolve around many things, and coming to the end of 2017, it’s about time not only me but everyone realize that we aren’t the only ones on the planet trying to live. And so, here I write, my game plan for 2018. I should have done this long ago but I guess it’s never too late to try something new, for a better New Year.

 1.       Awaken the Tiger

So many good things, so many new experiences, and what do I do when I meet them? Run. Hide. Shy away. I guess that’s why I am not satisfied with the year. I could have done so much more but I held back. I could have made new friends if only I tried harder but no, I choose to not give people a chance. The fear of rejection and failure was too much for me to handle that I just choose to not want to go through that. But then again, rejection and failure are a part of my own growth and it’s unavoidable. I go on and on about people who do not take risks in life, just choosing to stay put and miss out, but I was the one doing the same. I need to show that I am more than just all positive and smiles. I need to also show I’m a fighter; a risk taker. Throw me a punch or two, and I may or may not go down but definitely I will not back down without a fight. I’ll swing as hard and deliver my strongest blow. Feeding my fears to my Tiger. Be Courageous.

2.       Strive for the best. Double the effort

I’ve been slacking all this time. It’s now or never. I have to put in my all for Degree. I am here because of my parents’ strong prayers and blessings. I cannot disappoint them. I need to live up to my family name and be the best that I can be. I always thought being pretty is everything but it seems now brains are sexier. Saying no to procrastination and working my butt off this Degree to grab that scholarship should be top on my list this year (and until I graduate). It doesn’t matter if people around me are better, as long as I am better than the past me. Compete with yourself and you’ll get yourself a healthy competition that is equally motivating if not as challenging. There is so much I can improve and work in my education. I was already shown the ropes these past months, now it’s my turn to take the wheel and steer myself towards success. Average shall no longer be enough for me. No more ‘tidak apa’ and start your engine, Sonia. With Ganesha and Mummy and Daddy, you can.

 3.       Less is more

Lead life simple. I have learned a new term in 2017 ― minimalism/simplicity. The feeling of satisfaction and peace when I see pictures on Tumblr with these tags are the feelings I want to carry throughout my living days. I am not the neatest but that sure will be an improvement this time round. Not just in terms of decoration but also lifestyle in general. Living to the fullest with less should be the way to go. I must not think that I need every single item I find pretty and cool to be able to feel that I’m happy. It would be a good start to getting my shopping demon in control. Don’t go crazy just because the word SALE is everywhere in the malls. I don’t need unnecessary pieces of clothes because I already have more than enough. Focus on what is more important and learn how to save. Money should not be spent like water. Perhaps, I can also work on my style and pick up a more aesthetic look with minimal colors and pieces. A single color scheme would do. Back to Basics. Buy only if I am going to wear it more than once. Don’t hoard either. Learn to let go, whether it be books or clothes. They can’t forever stay in the closet or shelf just because they look pretty and you don’t want to give them away. Even meals should be considered. I may be small and in need of gaining weight, but that does not mean fast food every weekend and going out to town just for a single meal. Just eat what you have and always finish meals. Some people can’t afford a single meal.

 4.       Positive vibes only 

I am known to be very positive. But know that there are times you can feel blue. Not every day is a good day. So this time I need to remind myself that if you need to cry, then cry. Need to be angry, project it well and get rid of it. But never even lose that positive spirit, because it is a charm. Always see things in its positive light and hope for nothing but the best. This world is gloomy and cruel and dark enough. Hopefully, in this New Year, I can inspire and motivate. Use my charms and good qualities to greater use. Lend out a helping hand and give my shoulder for people who need them. Jonghyun was enough. I may have not been there to cheer him on and definitely not save him from what has happened but perhaps, I could be someone’s saviour. Nothing much, all I need to learn is understanding. Stop judging people too much too if you don’t wish people to do the same. Always see that there’s more than meets the eye. Not everyone is going to be all happy and bright around me but that should not be an obstacle. Just try. 

5.       Live! Fight! Earn! Conquer!

Passion. This should be my keyword of 2018. In everything I do. Love, studies, hobbies, friendships. Live passionately and see how much life can improve. There are going to be days when you’re just done and all you want to do is sleep forever. Find something ― any form of motivation ― to keep fighting on. To live for. If not for yourself, for someone worth-while. Depression and stress should be handled well. Never give up because know that there are people who will be hurting if you try doing anything reckless. Faith is the most important during times like this. Never expect things in return either. Just do what makes me happy and live to my heart’s content. Don’t think people’s affection is everything. Most important is respect. As a woman, that should be top of the list. With all the issues surrounding women these days, it should be as clear as day that respect is the way to go now. Therefore, fight and earn respect from people around you. Make people remember my presence. Boys will always be boys, so work on yourself first before trying to impress someone. I have a long way to go, that’s the whole point. I have all my life to find a man. But before that, be a man to yourself. Fight my own battles and lick my own battle wounds. Man up! Make first moves and live without regrets. Just LIVE.

With that being said, may 2018 be a great year and welcome all the goodness into your lives. Embrace the moments and cherish them. Do what makes you smile and try new things. Make memories and create stories. Live to the fullest. You’ll be fine. I mean, how bad can it be right? Happy New Year!