#and 86 layers

[cozy-axolotl]

Godot’s Sadistic Coffee Factory

#23

[gobs-o-dice]

Dice Set #86: Desert Soil Layers

[particle70]

I recently saw a drag show, and got inspired to practice makeup! Hope I did well, I've never worn any before.

[lefiate-art]

Wanted to draw some Halloween art of my girl!! I liked the greyscale version too much so I wanted to include it too with the gradient map version lol

The dress she’s wearing is this one!

[ikarakie]

the first time wayne meets steve is actually far before the events of '86. in fact, it's in winter of '85.

he's on his way back from work when he pops a tire. he's pissed off, it's cold, still dark, and the beginnings of fucking snow are falling around him, and he doesn't have a spare. the nearest payphone is probably three miles walk, and he's just readying himself to make the journey when, miraculously, a pair of headlights turn onto the back road.

the car slows to a stop behind wayne's, and he's struck by how fucking nice it is. a brown bmw 733i, one he thinks he's seen around a couple times. when the driver steps out, he realises that, yes, he has seen this car. because the boy behind the wheel is the harrington boy, and wayne curses every god out there.

he expects some snark. a good attitude and for the kid to make him grovel for help or outright deny any assistance. instead, he approaches with these wide bambi eyes, the absolute picture of concern.

"are you alright, sir?" he asks, perfectly polite. wayne huffs.

"popped a tire, ain't got a spare." he doesn't- doesn't know why he's telling him. really doesn't. but something about the kid makes him falter, makes his steely exterior give way ever so slightly. the boy crouches down to the tire in question, frowning as he inspects it. then nods, grinning. he says nothing to wayne as he heads back to his car, and for moment he thinks the kid's gonna leave him in the dirt. but, instead, he pops the trunk and hauls out a spare, rolls it over to the car.

wayne only watches, fascinated, as he jogs back to retrieve a little set of tools. sits his ass by his tire and starts going at it. he's in a thin, short sleeved tshirt and jeans. he must be fucking freezing- wayne is, and he's got a thick coat, gloves and a hat on.

"what're you doin', boy?" he asks, unable to sound anything but bewildered. the kid blinks at him.

"changing your tire, sir?"

"i ain't got anything to pay you back with." wayne warns, wary. the kid shrugs, continues his task.

"that's okay, i wasn't going to ask you to." he pulls the popped tire off and lays it by his side. "it's just a good thing we have the same size, huh?" he grins, a little shy. wayne has never felt so thrown off in his life.

was this really james and cynthia harrington's boy? would someone of those people's blood really sit in the cold to change a strangers tire? expecting nothing in return? "where's your layers, kid? it's cold as ass out here, you'll catch a chill."

"oh, i gave it to my friend." seriously? seriously? "i'm alright sir, not to worry." he says this despite his red cheeks and reddening knuckles.

he finishes fitting the tire a second or two later, and once he's inspected it, gives wayne an endearingly dorky thumbs up. it reminds him of eddie in all the best ways. "all done, sir!" he collects up all his tools and threads an arm through the hole of the tire, balancing it on his shoulder. "i'll take this for you, i have to drive by the junkyard anyways." he doesn't. wayne knows the harrington's live in loch nora, and that's the opposite goddamn direction.

"you really a harrington?" he asks, not missing the confusion and maybe even slight disappointment he's met with. "just- no offence, son, but i always thought they were nothin' but bad." he deflates even more, if possible. "how did they raise such a kind boy?"

it's such a sudden change, how quickly he's smiling, bright enough to light the damn road if he wanted. it's all bashful and excited, it makes wayne wonder if he's never heard a good word about himself in his life, which seems insane.

"i still got a bit of an asshole gene," he jokes, a little dry, "but i'm trying to be better, you know?" he motions to the tire. "if you can help, why shouldn't you?"

wayne wants to squeeze him, but refrains. thanks him a couple times over and forces the boy to take his hat before he goes, (despite his complaints). harrington bids him farewell and a safe drive home, and he's driving off before either realise they never learnt each other's names.

(wayne finds his out later, though, when eddie meets him at the door, worried that he's late. only after he's walked his nephew through the story three times and sworn up and down, yes, it was true, and yes, it was definitely harrington. steve harrington.

when they meet again after '86, in eddie's hospital room, that boy from all that time ago holding his nephew's hand, he does give him that hug. thanks him, for both this time and the last.

steve wears the hat in winter of '86. it makes wayne smile.)

[thebridalstylist]

What a bride SHOULD wear

Today, I had a really lovely woman come in. She was a plus size widow who was getting remarried at about age 50, and was a complete ball of nerves about what she SHOULD be wearing given all that. She came in asking if it was okay that she wear certain silhouettes or details or colors, like "But am I allowed to wear sequins at my age/size/2nd wedding?" There was so much "am I allowed?", and it broke my heart.

I used to be a wedding and event planner as well, and I think it's important that everyone hear what I told that bride. I'm a professional at this, so if you want to take one thing as law, make it this one.

I want you to take every idea you have about what a bride should be allowed to wear at your age/size/situation... And then I want you to set all those ideas on fire and dropkick 'em a mile away.

There are only two rules to what you're "allowed" to wear as a bride: one, that you feel comfortable, and two, that you feel beautiful. That's it. If you're an 86 year old bride who wants a purple see-through mini dress with a V down to your bellybutton with 15 layers of poof under the skirt and crystal pasties where your nipples are, girl... Go for it. I will bust my ass to make it happen.

Anyone who says anything different can take a long walk off a short pier. It's about you, and only you. All that matters is that YOU'RE happy.

(And by the way. that bride found a dress she loved so much she happy-cried.)

[aworldofpattern]

Zendaya at the Met Gala 2024, wearing custom Maison Margiela Artisanal by John Galliano, and hat by Stephen Jones.

The fruit, flowers, insects and birds on the gown fit the dress code of the night, 'The Garden of Time', inspired by J.G. Ballard's 1962 short story (explained here by the BBC).

The gown also references John Galliano’s Spring 1999 couture collection for Dior, in particular the gown below, decorated with grapes.

Maison Margiela said:

'A sage lamé bias-cut ‘siren dress’ overlaid with iridescent electric blue organza with ‘retrograding’ in undulating bands of hand-painted metallic crin, swathed in an aluminium material and iridescent organza drape and bow, with a corsage hand-embroidered in a bacchanal of hand-painted impasto in the grammar of the electric blues and emerald greens of scarab amulets, with formations of birds, flowers, vines, grapes and nuts, worn over a boudoir-coloured duchess satin corset. A silver metal-wire ‘reverse swatching’ hat and a black hand-painted voile crafted in the memory of plume and enveloped in matching coloured stockings by Stephen Jones for Maison Margiela, and Eau de Nil velour and faux lizard Tabi interlaced ankle-strap pumps by Christian Louboutin for Maison Margiela.

Created for Zendaya by John Galliano for Maison Margiela, the haute couture silhouette was inspired by the 1930s mythological works of the photographer Madame Yevonde and imbued with the memory of the orgiastic sceneries of the bacchanals of Ancient Greece. In a dance between painterly cutting and draping techniques – unique to each layer of the construction – and the superposition of fabric textures such as tin foil with transparent iridescent organza overlay, the composition conjures the staccato brushstrokes of Giovanni Boldini. The bias-cut ‘siren dress’ is a key expression in the creative practice of John Galliano, which first appeared at Maison Margiela in the Spring-Summer 2020 Artisanal Collection. Infused with a certain ‘snobisme’, the look is given the epithet of ‘86 and Lexington’, a nod to the subway station near The Met.

The dress was crafted with ‘retrograding’, a technique through which variations of thread-work, appliqué or encrustation degrade from the bottom to the top of a garment like the linear base drawing of a painting that hasn’t yet been finished. The ‘reverse swatching’ technique employed in the hat exchanges the fabrics traditionally used for certain parts of dressmaking with materials of a contrasting value.' X

[lailoken]

Raffle: Braided Crabapple Stave (CLOSED)

This raffle is for a unique Stave of braided, thorny wood that harvested from a 120+ year old Crabapple tree. It measures approximately 34 inches/86 centimeters in length and 1.5 inches/4 centimeters wide at its thickest point.

After initially acquiring the rare specimen in question, I went about curing the wood, smoothing the ends, and cleaning up some ragged branch stumps. While I usually debark pieces of this sort before working on them, the particular helical structure and profusion of thorns made me worried about being able to strip and sand the piece without damaging it. As such, I instead gave it a thin coat of handmade Dragon's Blood varnish to help stabilize and prime the wood, and then went about staining the entire piece using a polymerized oil pigment I make from Hearth Soot (Creosote) harvested from the interior of our Wood Stove. I applied layer after layer of the pigment until the bark was thoroughly coated and preserved, then used a cloth and my homemade Wisefool’s Oil (a ritually crafted oil of empowerment that also serves as a wonderful wood conditioner) to polish away the excess, before sealing the piece with my personally developed Wisefool's Glaze (a ritually empowered wood varnish made from an array of potent arboreal resins.) Finally, I gave the stave one last protective coating of polyurethane and suffumigated it with a smoke of Apple Blossoms and Dragon's Blood in a simple rite of hallowing.

While the retail price for this item is $200, I am taking the risk of setting up this raffle, in hopes that it might aid me in raising enough money to help us ease the cost of emergency surgery my dog required recently.

Tickets are $5 a piece, each assigned a number, and you can purchase up to three of them. To purchase a ticket, simply use the link below and follow the provided instructions. You will be asked to make an account and fill in your payment details, which will allow the raffle to email you your entry information, as well as automatically notifying the winner when the time comes. Participants are more than welcome to deactivate their accounts following the raffle. A random number generator will be used after ten days' time in order to determine which ticket number is the winner.

Thank you, truly and sincerely, to anyone and everyone who takes part! Please feel free to let me know if you come up against any issues! And as an aside—even if you don't end up entering the raffle, I'm sure that sharing it would still be helpful. :~)

Raffle Link: ☆

[mickandmusings]

iv. so high school

part of the 'hangman & honey' series!

summary: With Honey and Jake's senior year coming to a quick end, Honey is more than thrilled to dream about her upcoming days in the Austin sun as a future UT student. Blindly, and perhaps naively, she assumes Jake will be at her side for another four years. Jake has a secret he's refused to tell her, and the weight of it threatens to collapse his chest. He knows it's the right decision, but he can't help but think of the hurt it will cause the girl he loves.

word count: 4.4k

warnings: fluffy->angsty, building up to some major angst, folks, buckle up, also two posts in one week is crazy, just let me be mentally ill thanks <3

-

'And there he goes! #86, Senior Jake Seresin catches the ball from #19, Senior Ethan Williams, and runs towards the end zone for the touchdown and...it is good! That's a win for the Haven High Bobcats! The Blue and Gold Nation is officially in the playoffs!'

The crowd roars in Honey's ears as she jumps up and claps in elation at Jake's score-saving play. Haven had been behind by just a handful of points, and he'd won the game just before the buzzer sounded for the end of the fourth quarter. She smiled as she watched his teammates pummel over him, lifting him above their heads as he slings off his helmet, sweaty blonde hair shining under stadium lights. His Hollywood smile is blinding, and although she can't hear it, she can see him laugh.

Honey turns to Janet and Jacob Sr. moving next to her, both of them picking up their stadium seats and filing out of their row in the bleachers. Honey picks up Jake's football sweatshirt and slings it over her shoulders. She sported a solid navy long-sleeve under Jake's spare gold jersey she wore, but Jake had insisted she bring another layer. He had been right, of course, she had shivered through the first half of the game, but after halftime, she had broken into a sweat cheering Jake on. She trailed behind Janet, making their way back to the parking lot to meet up with her small-town football star boyfriend. Honey chatted pleasantly with Janet and Jacob Sr. as she stood next to their truck, telling them about she and Jake's after-game plans. They had decided on their usual post-game dinner at The Basket, then they'd slip off into one of the empty pastures far from the farmhouse and simply enjoy some alone time, not that the grandparents needed to know that detail. She waved them goodbye when they parted to their truck, and Honey walked across the parking lot to Jake’s truck. She leaned against the side of it, waiting for him to arrive. She didn’t bother to pay attention to the stares in her direction or the whispers filling the air, Jake was the senior football star hanging out with her, so she’d expected the push back.

She heard him before she saw him, his hearty laugh filling the air. He’s fist-bumping and bro-hugging his teammates before he makes his way over to her. His smile widens, throwing down his duffel at her feet and lifting her up off the ground, kissing her lips. Honey's own smile appears, lightly chastising him to put her down. When he does, he notes her appearance, fondly looking at his own numbers across her torso, but concerned she’d be freezing.

"I told you to wear that sweatshirt, not tie it 'round your waist. You're gonna end up with a head cold and you're gonna be all mopey and miserable."

Honey gave him a pointed look.

"Okay, Dad, cool your jets. I'll put it on when we get to the truck."

He opens her door and she slides in, and he opens the back door to throw his duffel bag on the floorboard. Honey waits for him to slide around to his spot at the front, but a voice calls out his name.

"Hey, Seresin! You comin' out tonight, man? Everyone's coming down to my place, gonna have a bonfire."

Ethan Williams' voice calls after him. Honey listens in as they speak, her eyes cutting awkwardly to her hands, fiddling with the hem of the jersey she's wearing. Truthfully, all Honey wanted to do was grab their dinner, go back home and plop into Jake's bed, and sleep until noon the next day. She understood why Jake would want to go, Ethan was captain of the football team, quarterback, and Jake's friend. It was their senior year, the last chance to soak up any childish memories before their impending adulthood. Jake was funny, the life of any party, but Honey was still learning to adapt to that sort of environment. Jake cut his green eyes to look at Honey, raising an eyebrow as if to ask what she wanted to do. Honey nodded slowly, a forced smile plastered across her face. Honey hated parties, especially ones like these, where almost everyone in attendance was friends with one another, while she was just there by association. She took a deep breath and calmed herself, it’d be fine, she’d go along with Jake for a few hours, let him laugh and mingle, and then they’d go back home. There she would have him to herself.

“Yeah, follow you there?” Jake replied back quickly. Ethan nods and walks toward his own truck. Jake quickly slings into the driver’s side of the truck, cranking it, and waiting for Ethan to roll out.

“Honey, you say the word and I’m blowing this party, I know-“

“No, no,” her voice is confident, at least to her. “These are your friends, and you just took us to the playoffs, Jake. You should celebrate, you deserve it.”

He gives her a wide grin, one that makes her heart swell with ridiculous adoration for the boy across from her.

-

A few hours later, Honey finds herself sitting on a bale of hay a few yards away from the bonfire, nursing a beer she hadn’t taken more than two sips of. She didn’t care for the taste of beer to begin with, often starting one and letting Jake finish it, but this one tasted particularly sour. It likely had nothing to do with the beer at all, her attitude had been sour for the past hour or so, and she was more than ready to go home. She had sat and listened to the other player's girlfriends gossip amongst themselves-who was sleeping with who, who cheated on who-typical high school gossip. She had tuned them out mostly, her eyes following Jake as he laughed with his friends. His eyes would meet hers occasionally, checking on her without having to say a word. She wasn't sour at him for having fun, she had wanted him to have this, childish teenage memories to look back on ten years from now. It wasn't his fault she wasn't having fun, it was hers, she should've tried to talk to other people in school these past four years. She remained relatively uninterested in their blabber, but when she heard something that perked her ears, she simply couldn't stop listening in.

“I know you all saw those scouts tonight, they were hard to miss in that bright orange.”

“Of course I did, they’re always at Haven games when the season is good. The question is, who are they scoutin'? Ethan has already announced he’s going to A&M, they’re not there for him.”

“They’re at the games for Jake Seresin, duh! He hasn’t accepted a scholarship anywhere, it’s got to be him. None of the other guys are good enough, my own boyfriend included.”

“Well there’s only one person who would know his plans, you just have to ask her,” Brett’s girlfriend Haley spoke. She was turning to Honey, her pale blue eyes kind. “Hey, Honey, why don’t you come sit over here with us?”

Honey stilled, the condensation on her beer can making her hands cold. Haley had always been kind to her, their boyfriends were close friends, Brett was one of Jake's few friends that spoke to her, and it made for easy camaraderie. Before she could overthink it, her feet carried her over to the group of girls, sinking onto a hay bale next to Haley.

“So, Honey,” Sarah Grace, Ethan’s girlfriend, started. “Where does Jake plan on signing to?”

Honey’s mouth felt as if she’d been eating cotton, her eyes wide. She, truthfully, had no idea. It wasn’t something Jake had ever talked to her about. She’d assumed he would go to UT Austin, it was his preferred team, and it wasn’t too far from Haven. It was Honey’s future school, hopefully, because she’d follow him anywhere.

“Um,” she started. “I don’t really know, but if I had to guess, probably UT Austin. I mean, he’s been a Longhorns fan since before I knew him, and that’s where I’ve sent my early decision application, so..." She ends her statement with a shrug. She feels like everyone’s eyes are on her, feeling a blush forming at the unusual attention.

“No matter where he goes, he’ll be a star, so it’s a win-win for you either way.” Haley smiles encouragingly, now turning her full attention to Honey. “On a more important topic, have you picked out your color for prom? Because Brett and I are doing pink, which he hates, but I’ve had my heart on this dress since freshman year so-“

Honey listens to Haley, but her mind is far from prom and dress colors. How was it this far into their senior year and she had yet to talk about college plans with Jake? She had just assumed they’d go to UT Austin together, but maybe she’d read it all wrong. What if he didn’t want her to follow him?

“-so you should come with us, we’re all going together, it would be fun, having another girl around.”

Honey’s eyes widened, realizing Haley was inviting her to come prom dress shopping. Her eyes widened, she’d never been invited anywhere, not sincerely at least.

“Um, yeah, that sounds great. I-I’ll be there.”

Haley lets out a squeal of excitement as she smiles, making Honey smile too. She’d spent the rest of her night engaged in conversation with the other football girlfriends, finding herself laughing as the girls welcomed her warmly. Jake watched from afar, smiling to himself as he watched Honey's body language begin to settle in the small group of girls. He gave her space to socialize amongst them, proud of her for stepping even a foot out of her comfort zone. He finds her a few hours later, bidding the other girls a swift farewell before sweetly grabbing her hand and whisking her away back to the truck, back home. As the pair walked away into the distance, the girls began a new discussion.

“So, who wants to bet on how long those two have been more than friends?” Sarah Grace starts, her eyes still on the couple fading into the distance.

“Jake Seresin and her? Listen, she’s a sweet girl but they’re polar opposites. No way they've got somethin' going on. They’re nothing but friends.”

“Bullshit, she’s worn his jersey every single game, and he’s always got his arm around her. And those eyes he gives her? No way they’re not at least fooling around.” Ethan's girlfriend pipes up.

“Rumor has it she lives with the Seresin’s cause her mom’s a deadbeat. I mean they share a bed and everything, I bet they fuck like rabbits. We all know how well-off the Seresin's are, not to mention the influence that comes along with it, what if she's like, baby trapping him or something? I'm calling it now, she'll be pregnant before prom."

“You’re all wrong,” Haley finally piped up, shaking her head at the ignorant girl's statement. “Those two have been dating since sophomore year, are you truly that blind? For God's sake, have you ever seen Jake let anyone else borrow his clothes like that? Fuck no. Not to mention his obsession with touching her every time she's in his vicinity-they hold hands, she'll intertwine her arm around his, sleep on his shoulder-they're not hiding it. You just didn't notice it because you don't think someone shy like Honey could pull a ladies man like Jake Seresin. You should’ve seen them at Brett’s New Year’s Eve party last year, I swear Jake wasn’t going to let her breathe he kissed her so hard. Those two are in love, crazy about each other, but Jake is…not like other guys. He'd never let something like that happen to Honey. He isn't the idea you have in your head, at least not with her."

-

Jake cranks the truck and swings his arm around the headrest, his head peering out the back glass to back out. His hand lands on Honey’s thigh when he finally gets on the road. It's routine, his hand always rests against her when they ride together. She made no move to scoot closer, and when Jake looked at her, he expected to see her eyes shutting with sleep, but he instead found them wide awake, eyebrows pinched in thought. He sighs, he should’ve known from her being abnormally quiet when it was just the two of them.

“I can feel you thinking all the way over here. Talk to me. What's the matter, baby?” Jake’s voice is calm, soothing, as his thumb rubs lazy circles on her leg. Honey looks over at him, catches a glimpse of his concerned eyes, and looks back out her window before responding:

“There were scouts there tonight, from UT Austin. Word around the party says they were there to watch you.”

Jake shrugs, confused at where the conversation was heading. “That's a bad thing?”

Honey shakes her head. “No, it’s just, Haley and the other girls were asking if you were hoping to go to UT, and I realized I couldn’t even tell them, because I didn’t know. I-I even put my early decision application there, because I just thought that was where you’d go. It occurred to me I didn't even ask, I just thought we'd go together.”

As Jake processes her statement, he swallows thickly. He knew Honey's college plans, and as much as he'd wanted to follow her, he knew in the depth of his heart he wouldn't be following her to Austin. He had no aspirations for a traditional college route, and had already sent in his application to the Naval Academy. He hadn't told her, he hadn't told anyone, with the exception of their guidance counselor.

“I, um, I’m sendin' my application to UT too, just trying to scope out some other options, ya know? If I get hurt during a game or somethin', I’m over, I’ll lose my scholarship. I-I mean, my grades are there, but they’re not perfect, not like yours. Grandpa Seresin, he went straight to the Naval Academy after high school, paid for everything until he retired to the farm. Danny did too, played football there and everything. I just, need somethin' with some padding like that, just in case, so I’ve been holding out on a definite answer.”

His answer hadn’t been a complete lie, just, not the truth either. Honey nods in understanding, satisfied with his answer for now. Finally, she scoots over in the seat and leans her head on his shoulder, burying her head into the crook of his neck. She’s comfortable, content.

“That's good, just know I’ll follow you anywhere. I couldn’t imagine not having you around for four years, no way I'd survive without you."

Jake gulps, his heart breaking in half in his chest. His mind raced, if he told her the truth, it would kill her. There was no guarantee he'd be accepted into the Academy, but he hadn't even told her that he'd tried for it. He knew he had to tell her, but he kept it to himself for now, trying to enjoy their moments of being seniors together. He leans down and kisses her head, his mind swimming with thoughts of how he would tell her if he got accepted into the Naval Academy. He could already picture her big eyes swimming with tears, the fake smile she’d plaster across her face for his sake, telling him how proud she was, and how she would be hurting on the inside the entire time. He didn’t want that, he couldn’t face that, so, as fall turned to winter and then winter into spring, he’d neglected telling her completely.

-

When her early acceptance to UT Austin came in December, Honey had been all smiles and excited rambles, and that night, as they ate the celebratory dinner Janet made Honey, his stomach turned with guilt. Come the spring, when everyone else was announcing acceptances, he would no longer be able to lie to her, to defer the truth. But he pushed it to the side, letting both himself and Honey focus on all the exciting things that came with the last few months of high school, but they passed quicker than he wanted them to. They’d made it into the playoffs, won a few rounds before their luck run out and the football season was over. Christmas was done and over before he blinked, and his heart all but shattered at Honey’s blinding smile when she opened her very first orange Longhorns sweatshirt of her own-a gift from his grandparents. Honey had let her shoulders fall in happiness, tossing off Jake's Cowboys sweatshirt she was wearing to throw it over her head. She’d cried and squeezed both Janet and Jacob Sr. so tightly, but Jake could not smile, his entire chest was tight with words he couldn’t say. So when he opened an identical box with the same sweatshirt in a bigger size, he had to wipe on a smile and swallow the lump in his throat, because everyone still believed he’d be tagging along with Honey come August, his grandmother included. He had spilled his secret months before to his grandfather, who listened earnestly, but gave him a raised eyebrow look.

"This got anythin' to do with Danny?"

Jake had sighed, choosing not to say anything. Nothing got past his grandfather. His Uncle Danny had served in the Navy his entire life, as long as Jake had been alive. When Uncle Danny hadn't come back from his last post with the Navy, it had sent the entire family into shambles. It wasn't until months later that they'd found out the truth-he'd been shot down and lost his life.

Jacob Sr. had only nodded his head, sort of shocked by Jake's sudden announcement, but not surprised. His grandson had always had a flair for the unexpected.

"He'd be proud of you, kid. Just, the truth is better out than in. I know you haven't told Honey, that sweet girl deserves the truth, Jake. And you better tell ya Granny too, if she finds out from someone other than you, she'll kill you before you even get to Maryland. Believe me, women always find out the truth."

Jake suddenly wished he would've taken that advice sooner.

For the entirety of the next few months, he burned as he listened to Honey talk about them at UT: the apartments they'd move into together, joining him for football games, being his tag-along at parties, and him joining her in the library to help her study. She was so excited, happier than Jake had seen her in, well, ever-she was getting away from everything: her mother who she despised, this small town that felt suffocating at times, the people who talked shit about her, but she’d still have him, the one person she truly loved. She'd make him stop and let her check the mail each day as they came in from school, waiting for an acceptance letter for him that would never come. Honey would give him a sweet smile and assure him it would come sooner or later. He wouldn’t burst that bubble for-he couldn't-at least not yet.

-

As the colder days turned into a particularly hot April, Jake had five weeks before graduation, meaning he had T-minus thirty-five days to tell her. He had prolonged it this far, because after he told her the news, it was likely he’d never see her again. He'd received his Naval Academy acceptance letter two weeks ago, and as proud of himself as he was, he knew the disaster that would lay ahead of him, all at his own hand. He had broken down on the couch the night that Honey was out with Haley and Sarah Grace prom dress shopping, and his grandmother had gotten the truth from him. Janet had wrapped the boy in her arms, the boy who now towered over her, as if he was a toddler again and let him cry, knowing his decision had been made, but it didn't mean it would be easy.

Instead of focusing on the imminent pain, he spent his free time working on the old farm house on the south side of the farm. The house was nice, built years ago for a group of farm hands hired for the summer, but was in desperate need of a deep clean and some minor fixes. He had thought it’d be a great place for Honey and her new friends (Haley and Sarah Grace) to get ready for prom together, and a place he and Honey could decompress afterwards without any prying eyes, or worrying about waking up Janet or Jacob Sr. His grandparents had thought it was a good idea, happy to see Honey bring around more friends than just their grandson. As he scrubbed the floors and moved furniture into the house that week, his mind raced with ideas of how he would tell her, and, more importantly, when. After an internal pep-talk, he decided on telling her after prom, after the last fun before graduation was over. He wanted her to have one good night after her hell of a high school experience, but he needed to get the truth off his chest, and fast.

-

For now, he's wrapping his fist against the wooden door of her bedroom across the hall from his. He stares back at the Dawson's Creek poster plastered across it as he speaks.

“Honey, can I come in?”

“Hold on!” Her voice pipes up, and a shuffling noise is evident behind the door. “Okay! Now you can.”

Jake pushes open the creaky door and notices nothing out of place, which makes him raise a brow.

“What was all that racket about?”

“I had to hide my prom dress, I don’t want you to see it before prom night, it’s supposed to be a surprise! Haley said it was a ‘crime’ to look that good, so I should keep it a surprise from you.”

Jake shakes his head, kissing the top of her head as he pulls her into his arms.

“Well that poses a bit of a problem, darlin’. Don’t know what color tie I need, or what flowers to put on your corsage.”

Honey blushes, forgetting about that.

“For the flowers, do whatever you want, just something pretty, and the tie, black.” She attempts to mask her sly smile.

“Black?” Jake’s green eyes widened, his arms pulling her closer as he looked down at her. The sight of Honey in a black dress would probably kill him on the spot. "Don't think I've ever seen you in a black dress, baby."

Honey smiled as he spoke the nickname that still gave her goosebumps nearly three years later. She shrugs nonchalantly, as if the sudden change was nothing.

"Wanted to switch it up, leave our whole class with the whole 'wallflower is hotter than you think' dramatic exit, like a movie."

Jake chuckles, "You've got to stop watching so many of those cheesy romances. C'mon I got to show you somethin'."

He pulls her forward by the hand as she quickly slides on her sandals at the door. He brings her out the door and pops open the passenger side of his vehicle, helping her in. He slides into his driver's side and backs out, leading to her incoming question.

"Jake, where are we going?"

"That field with the house in the middle."

"Care to tell me why?"

"You'll see, darlin', patience, please."

Honey rolls her eyes at him as she looks out the window at the fields full of animals passing them by, slowly morphing into empty ones. Jake pulls into the driveway of the house, and Honey notes the lights on in the house.

"Did they hire some hands for the summer? You should've told me, I'm not really dressed to meet strangers, Jake."

Jake opens her door, and helps her out.

"Nobody's here but us, Hon. Just c'mon," He leads her through the front door and into the house, and she's immediately in awe of how nice it looks. There's no more layers of dust, or the sort of weird, tangy smell a shut-up house has. She turns to her boyfriend again.

"You did all this? You cleaned this place up?"

He nods, pulling her into him, her back to his chest.

"Thought it would be nice for you and the girls to get ready in, since me, and Brett and Willie and Ethan are getting ready at the house, no way we could share a bathroom with all of us."

"You fixed the bathroom in this place?" Honey's eyes widened, launching from his arms and into the hallway. She opens the door and audibly gasps-he added lighting around the mirrors, something the bathroom was once lacking, giving the perfect spot for them to get ready. "You are somethin' else, Jake Seresin."

She approaches him as he's standing in the door frame, kissing his lips sweetly. When they break apart she catches sight of the open bedroom door, immediately moving to look at it. She pushes the door completely open, finding the once broken headboard fixed, clean sheets, and the curtains are no longer filled with dust. The boy who she had to force to pick up his laundry had vacuumed this house from top to bottom.

"It looks amazing here, J, seriously." Her eyes are round as she looks around.

"I, um, I thought it'd be nice for us to have this place for just us, ya know? For prom obviously, but also if you wanted to come home during school or the summer? Wouldn't have to be cramped up in the house with the old folks."

He didn't have the heart to say he had done it so she would have some space away from the memories of him if she decided to come home. He didn't like imagining her working her ass off for some overpriced apartment during the summers when she could live here. The place wasn't anything fancy, and it's interior was definitely aging, but that was something she could fix, if she wanted. It gave Jake peace of mind to know that even if he wasn't around for her, that she would have somewhere to go, that she would be taken care of. She leans back into his embrace, taking in the house's appearance.

"Hey, J?" Her voice is quiet, but not somber.

"Yeah, baby?" He replies, his chin falling to her shoulder, planting a chaste kiss on her temple before he rests there.

"Do you think, someday-, maybe-, maybe s-someday we'd fix this place up together? It could be ours? I mean, it's perfect, a decent size house on a big patch of land. We could make it our own."

Jake's heart sinks to his feet, feeling like he might hurl with the amount of guilt swirling in his stomach. Her eyes are so wide, full of hope, and she gives him that smile, the one that's so rare it's practically reserved for him alone. He swallows down the round of tears threatening to choke him, and gives her a smile of his own.

"Someday, I'll give you the house of your dreams, baby. I'll give you whatever you want, if you'll let me."

-

taglist:

@djs8891

@unattainablesillygoose

@psuedochakra

@fraaaaankiiiiieee

-

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 87

Part 1 Part 86

Mom’s hovering in front of the door, a knife in her hand, trying to get the rest of them to get away from the window. It’s not working. If anything, Max’s nose only presses more firmly to the glass with every request she makes.

Will’s hovering just behind her, desperate to keep Steve and Eddie in his line of sight. He can just barely see the wisp of a curl through the side window of the van, bouncing as Eddie moves around inside.

He squints, trying to keep the hair in sight as the movement becomes more erratic.

Will hears glass breaking just as he loses sight of Eddie entirely, wisps and all.

He rushes past his Mom, using the weight of his body to open the door, even as she stands in the way. It’s almost involuntary, a compulsion to follow the thread that Eddie’d pulled him by.

“Will, don’t!” she cries, but it’s too late. He’s out, and through.

Mike calls after him, too, and there’s the sound of tennis shoes stampeding out of the house behind him. Will only hopes he’s not leading them all to their impending doom.

Bodies slump into the driveway, none of them human. They’re like if the Demogorgon had followed a different evolutionary chain. Dustin would find it fascinating. Will just wants Eddie and Steve back.

Wayne’s still standing sentry, looking out across the street, waiting for more monsters to creep in from the darkness, Barbara by his side.

Shielding the entrance to the van, is El.

“El!” It’s Mike, because it always is. He sounds so genuinely elated that something curdles and dies in his throat. He swallows it down, hopes it decomposes in his stomach, so he never has to look directly at it. “You came!”

El smiles, happily at Mike, then around to all of them. “Of course.” She looks over at Max, and she’s frowning now, that way she does when she doesn’t understand something. It used to happen all the time. Now, it’s rare.

Will doesn’t care, can’t when Eddie’s too quiet in the van somewhere Will can’t see. He pushes past her, too.

There’s a misshapen, monstrous foot sticking out of the broken window. He stares at it for a second before swinging the door open. It wrenches the foot strangely, makes it crack and tear with the resistance of the door before it breaks free, black blood flowing like the thing’s still alive. 

It stays still. 

Will looks past it, and finds Eddie’s pale face.  

There’s glass in his hair, and his palms are bleeding where they’re held in front of him, but he’s breathing. Alive. And he’s looking up at El like she’s answered all his prayers. Will and Eddie have been sharing the same prayers from the same broken pews for so long that for a second, Will thinks Steve is back. 

He scrambles over the dead thing blocking his entrance. It’s cold against his palms, flesh barely giving as he crawls hand over feet atop it. But, Steve’s still just sitting there, blinking, Carol huddled into his side like he can protect her, even like this.

“Steve needs your help,” Eddie says, plaintive. Begging with both voice and unblinking eyes, gaze locked on El’s own until she breaks it to look at where Steve still sits, unbothered.

Her brow furrows, eyes squinting like she’s peeling off layers of skin and meat to get to whatever’s underneath. “He’s lost?” she asks.

Carol is squinting at El like the words aren’t clicking for her. She looks back to Steve, then back to El, brow furrowing with anger.

Eddie nods. Will clears his throat. “Not like last time,” he clarifies. “He’s here, but his mind isn’t.”

El nods, decisive. “I will help.”

“What the hell are you all talking about!” Carol demands, even as people scatter around her, setting up for El’s latest rescue mission. “He’s right there!”

She’s not looking at Will, though. She’s looking at Eddie like it’s all his fault. Still, when Steve doesn’t say anything, her lip wobbles as she turns and asks, “right Steve?”

He doesn’t answer, even as she calls again. Will looks away when she bites her lips, eyes wide.

It’s easier this time. They don’t have to break into the school, don’t have to find a pool. El just sits cross-legged in front of Steve on the carpet, careful to stay away from the broken glass and the dead thing. Mike covers her eyes with Wayne’s flannel while the man himself switches the radio dial until he finds one with enough white noise to satisfy.

He can’t quite tune out the murmured conversation between Eddie and Carol, though, no matter how hard he tries. Eddie explains, in clipped, emotionless words, that something, one of the monsters from the other place she’d just gotten a taste of, has taken over Steve. 

“But we’re getting him back?” she asks, voice shrill and breaking, contrasting with Eddie’s own even tone. A veteran to the newbie in the warzone. 

Will, suddenly, feels terribly old. 

“Quiet now,” El demands. 

Eddie looks away from Carol without answering. There is no answer to that question when they’re all subsisting off hope, and not much else.

“Tell him we’re coming, okay?” Eddie asks. He’s looking down at his own bloody palms now, like he can’t bear to look at their last bastion of hope and wait for it to flame and go out. 

“Ask ‘im how to stop the thing taking ‘im over,” Wayne interjects. 

Eddie’s lip wobbles. Will knows how he feels. He doesn’t want Steve to know, if he’s in there at all, that they don’t know what to do. Neither does Will. He wants to save Steve. He always wants to save Steve.

But, Eddie finally looks up, meeting Will’s eyes before nodding. The movement knocks a tear free, but his voice sounds clear when he says, “Ask him how we kill the fucker.”

El nods, shoulders settling as she reaches out to take Steve’s hand. The white noise blankets them all. Will settles down to wait. 

That’s what they always do, when Steve is dying: they wait. This time is no different. 

Part 88

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso @best-selling-show @v3lv3tf0x @bookworm0690 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @wonderland-girl143-blog @nerdsconquerall @sharingisntkaren @canmargesimpson @bananahoneycomb

[keeksandgigz]

one breath in, three breaths out

eddie munson x reader

March 1989: the third anniversary of the March '86 happenings is getting closer, and the past seems impossible to move on from.

cw: 1.5k words, eddie isn't dead, PTSD, mention of what happened in the UD, screaming, crying, overall very sad, angst, teeny bit of fluff

AN: This is literally an experiment I have never posted fanfiction before I am scared.

You decide to let him sleep. The night terrors had been coming back in full force.

It was that time of year again.

Screaming and thrashing, horrors behind his lids and on his mind, between the hours of 3 and 5 AM all you could do is stare at Eddie's tortured face. His pinched eyebrows laden with cold sweat as you wrestled with the idea of waking him up, too worried you might worsen the nightmares that were keeping him trapped. Only when the light had already begun to peek through the thin blinds of the room you would feel him breathe again, and with him, you'd feel yourself exhale.

Only you don't let yourself sleep any longer, staring intently, listening to his heartbeat as his every breath, every twitch becomes the object of your attention. His screams would haunt you during the day, with only a few hours of sleep behind you, working at the library became incredibly difficult. The light touch of the spine of a book would remind you of his skin. Cold, clammy and rough as you held him down, quietly comforting him with gentle caresses on his pale, scarred arms as he jolted and screamed nonsense, quietly shushing him, unsure if he was able to hear you, trapped in whatever remote place of his labyrinthian mind he was in.

So you let him sleep, coffee dripping into your mug as you quietly munch on a piece of toast. Walking on eggshells, trying to not make any noise. He needs this. He needs rest.

If you could open his mind and pick at his brain to remove all the bad things he'd seen and been through you would do it. For the past three years, you both had attempted to rebuild a life, go back to normal. But like clockwork, the end of March always comes back. With its dark stormy clouds, like a hurricane, destroying in its wake everything you both had worked towards for the past year. Destroying what you had helped Eddie rebuild, his broken soul and mind like a broken piece of china put together by a thin layer of gold.

But not even his layer of gold was able to hold him together now. You felt useless as you watched him crumble, the delicate china chipping bit by bit as he became a shadow of himself, watching the dark, unforgiving spring rain pour down outside the window. Watching as he became a ghost.

You let yourself slide down to the floor, the few inches between you and the couch are unbearable for your feet to reach, suddenly feeling heavy. The lack of sleep fully hitting you as a sense of helplessness suddenly washes over your half- lidded eyes. A choked sob escapes, deep down from your chest. You quickly go to cover your mouth, overwhelmed by the waterfall of tears that began streaming all over your face. Unable to hold back the hiccups as you hold your breath, not wanting to wake him up, not wanting him to hear you.

This time of year is hard on him, so you have put your doubts, fears and issues on the back burner to focus on him, on his broken mind, letting yours crumble to bits. It is hard on you, too, but you'd never admit that out loud. It didn't matter, really, you would have done anything to help him, even if it meant not helping yourself.

Even to this day, what he had gone through was incomprehensible to your mind, as much as you had tried to envision it, put yourself in his shoes. You could not even fathom what it had been like for him, and it killed you. Feeling left out from his own mind, when he was with his friends they'd get together and on those rare occasions someone felt brave enough to bring it up, discuss what happened. The mutual understanding that you were not allowed to be privy to, because you weren't there.

So you silently sob on the cold kitchen floor, biting your sleeve to muffle the sobs and gasps that come from deep within your chest, where your heart is aching, filled with guilt, hatred, for whatever entity up in the sky that had let such horrible things happen to him, your boyfriend, who had never done anything in his life, except being born in the circumstances he was in.

You cannot not help the hiccup that escapes you, holding your breath to make as little noise as possible. The noise of bare feet on the tile go unnoticed to you, as your face stays hidden in your hands, soaking the sleeves of your sweater.

When Eddie enters the kitchen, his stomach drops.

"Oh shit." He rushes over by your side, kneeling and caressing your knee with one hand, gently moving your hands from your face with the other. His breath hitched and labored.

"What's wrong, hun? Talk to me." His voice is still sore from sleep, it startles you.

You take in a deep breath, as you had done before with him. One long breath in, three short breaths out. Helps you stabilize your gasps and sobs as his hand that wasn't on your knee gently rubs your knuckles, in a weak attempt at comfort.

When the violent sobs have stopped you are able to speak again. "I'm so sorry Ed. So incredibly sorry I can't help you." a fresh set of tears spilling out of the bottoms of your eyes, loud sobs escapes your throat as you bury your face on his shoulder. He catches your face before you can.

"Hun, where's all this coming from? You've been such help every year when, you know..." He doesn't want to say it. Not after the night he'd just had. Bats and bites and the cold suffocating air from that hellish place all came back to haunt him. The feeling of the creatures pulling at his skin with their teeth, every tendon and every vessel being chewed and mangled and bitten, and in his dreams, he was going through it all over again. Kind of like a Prometheus punished for stealing fire, Eddie was punished for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"I just- I just have no idea what you've- you've been through." you sniffle, finally settling down with your breathing. One in, three out. "I see you screaming and kicking and thrashing in your sleep and I don't know what to do. I spend hours watching you after it's over. I don't sleep, Ed. I'm always scared I'm not gonna be awake to help you if it gets really bad. What if it gets really bad? I dunno what to do, I'm so scared" you let out an exasperated sob at that, struggling to keep your glassy eyes from spilling again.

"Are you scared of me?" He says with an uncertainty that breaks your heart. You could never be scared of him. You shake your head and swallow at a newly formed knot in your throat.

"I- I could never, Ed." you swallow again, "I don't know what you've seen, I have no clue how to be there for you."

He pulls you in a hug, tight against his chest, the smell of sleep still on him "Honey, what you do is enough. I don't know if you'll ever be able to see what I've seen- God, I hope you never do, baby. But I feel you, when I sleep, I feel your voice. I try to reach you, but I'm stuck." He swallows, eyes going a bit glassy "What I'm trying to say is, I see how hard this is for you, too. And I appreciate you, God I don't know how many times I'd have to say it for me to actually repay you for what you've done."

You stare at him for a moment, as if he'd said the thing that you had been looking to hear from him, and then he breaks down. Finally letting himself feel all the terror and the turmoil that he has been put through for the past week. The kitchen floor becomes a mess of spilled coffee and two tightly wound bodies sobbing into each other. Letting go of the pain, even just for a moment, the world going still, except for the rain pitter pattering outside the window.

When you both have calmed down, Eddie looks around and his gaze falls on the abandoned mug, tipped on the floor, coffee spilled from it. He huffs a weak laugh.

"Look at what we did" he offers you a teary eyed smile and a kiss to your temple.

"Shit, let me clean it up before it stains," you laugh. It's quiet and weak, but it's everything Eddie needs to hear right now.

He needs to hear happiness and joy, even for just a moment in time, where he is not being haunted by bats and the past three years. And even as he's watching you clean the coffee stain, laughing at the mess you made he can't help but try and stabilize his breath. It's been harder for him to keep account of his breathing since he came back from hell, but you've helped him.

One breath in, Three breaths out.

[simverses]

TSM Commoner Corset Layered Dress - Updated

This dress looks great in many situations - at the inn, at the village harvest party, at all sorts of festive and everyday events. Available for all ages.

86 HQ swatches.

All age versions merged in one handy file.

The kids' versions take their textures form the adult versions.

Unmerge the files if you want to edit or remerge but remember to keep the files together.

Download TSM Commoner Corset Layered Dress (Curseforge)

[royboyfanpage]

Relationship Rant- Dinah Lance

I'm gonna talk about one of the most endearing relationships in DC: Roy Harper and Dinah Lance.

As I've mentioned in other posts, I dislike the idea of Dinah as the "Arrowmum", I think it's a disservice to her character and, generally speaking, when fandom applies the title of "mother" to a female character it tends to reduce them down to that (as I've seen a lot of posts doing with Selina Kyle). That being said, there's something undeniably mother/son coded about Dinah and Roy's relationship, in the sense of mutual care and respect.

As far as I can tell, the first instance in which Dinah and Roy were seem interacting at length is in Snowbirds Don't Fly part 2 (Green Lantern/Green Arrow #86), and Arsenal #1 further backs this up by saying Dinah didn't even know Roy's civilian name until that comic.

This sets the tone for their entire relationship, as Dinah's literal introduction to Roy is when he's at his lowest. A lot of other people in Roy's life, particularly Ollie, had already known him extensively pre-Snowbirds; they had memories who they could look back on as "before it all went wrong with Roy." Dinah, however, doesn't have that. There's no pre-addiction Roy she can look back on, no fabricated "better" version she can judge the later Roy based on those standards. Everything she's seen of Roy has been improvement- she's seen him at his lowest, and seen him fight to improve and better himself as the years progressed, even stating that she views him as the bravest person she's ever met.

But that isn't to say their dynamic is exclusively Dinah comforting him. Their relationship is built on mutual care and affection, supporting each other, such as after Ollie died.

At that point, they're really the only two people they can speak to about their grief. I believe Hal's dead at this point, or at the very least he's Parallax, and Connor had only been in Ollie's life briefly prior to Ollie's death. Dinah and Roy are the two people who truly knew Ollie, and are alive to talk about it, at this point in time, and as a result they are each others mutual source of comfort.

They also just have a good relationship in general. They're able to joke around together, and they can talk to each other easily-

-and it's so clear to see their chemistry with one another.

When Roy later joins the Justice League, Dinah's one of his biggest supporters, even before his official initiation-

-showing just how much she respects Roy and believes he can do well. (From Green Arrow (2001) #74) Dinah's seen Roy as the competent hero he is, and knows that with his skillset and sense of morality he is far better fit amongst the greatest heroes of Earth compared to the controversial, underdog team Outsiders (which, while I adore the 2003 Outsiders cast, is a good point. Roy was seen routinely unhappy in that team, and the Justice League was one of his biggest dreams). Upon his actual induction into the League, Dinah's the one Roy dedicates his success to-

-demonstrating just how much he appreciates her and her constant support (From Justice League of America (2006) #7), and she's the one who reassures him that he does deserve the title of Red Arrow upon him joining the League and feeling anxous about it.

And in Vixen: Return of the Lion, when Dinah is compromised, you can see Roy's panic and concern for her wellbeing-

-demonstrating just how much he cares for her. Dinah's arguably one of the only people who loves Roy the same way he loves everyone in his life- unconditionally, and without judgement or grudges- and so the concept of losing that person to which his type of love is reciprocated is understandably terrifying.

Overall, Roy and Dinah are one of DCs most endearing relationships that has so many layers- a mother/son dynamic, a mutual support system, and best friends.

[transgenderer]

everybody talks about aquifers like theyre normal. but aquifers are weird. the ground is full of water. and apparently weve known about this shit since like forever.

Artesian aquifer scheme:

Aquifer

Impervious strata

Infiltration area

Artesian well

Saturation level

Subartesian well

Artesian spring

An artesian well is a well that brings groundwater to the surface without pumping because it is under pressure within a body of rock and/or sediment known as an aquifer.[1] When trapped water in an aquifer is surrounded by layers of impermeable rock or clay, which apply positive pressure to the water, it is known as an artesian aquifer.[1] If a well were to be sunk into an artesian aquifer, water in the well-pipe would rise to a height corresponding to the point where hydrostatic equilibrium is reached.[1]

The first mechanically accurate explanation for artesian wells was given by Al-Biruni.

1000 years of knowing about the rocks...

The Great Artesian Basin (GAB)[1] of Australia is the largest and deepest artesian basin in the world, extending over 1,700,000 square kilometres (660,000 sq mi). Measured water temperatures range from 30 to 100 °C (86 to 212 °F). The basin provides the only source of fresh water through much of inland Australia.[2]

Most recharge water enters the rock formations from relatively high ground near the eastern edge of the basin (in Queensland and New South Wales) and very gradually flows toward the south and west.[6] A much smaller amount enters along the western margin in arid central Australia, flowing to the south and east through the permeable sandstone, at a rate of one to five metres per year.

Discharge water eventually exits through a number of springs and seeps, mostly in the southern part of the basin. The age of the groundwater, determined by carbon-14 and chlorine-36 measurements combined with hydraulic modelling, ranges from several thousand years for the recharge areas in the north to nearly 2 million years in the south-western discharge zones.[7]

the earth provides....

also, ive mentioned qanats on here before but there are nearly 3000 year old underground aqueducts in iran. i mean. i guess its not that crazy like you just dig a tunnel and mining is super old. but still

[raineandsky]

#86

Being a hero is stressful. That much is common knowledge. How a hero goes about unwinding from said stress is a mystery no one has yet figured out.

The hero settles in one of the little chairs in the circle. The man next to her gives her a light nudge. “Let’s see what you made this week, then.”

The hero reaches into her bag to show off her latest stress relief—a giant blanket, knitted in the downtime between jobs, sporting a rainbow of colours in bright streaks across its face. Everyone oohs and ahhs appropriately before the rest of the circle gets to showing off their own creations.

It’s been nice to have a place that isn’t entirely consumed by work, the hero thinks as she nods approvingly at someone’s mug cosy. No worrying about tomorrow, no wondering where the villains might be.

Her gaze flits to the next person in line to show something off, and her heart momentarily stops as she meets her eye. At least she doesn’t have to worry about the latter of her thoughts right now.

What the hell is the villain doing at the hero’s weekly knitting club?

“Go on,” the woman next to the villain prompts. The villain huffs and makes a show of it, but she pulls out a cardigan with a ghost of a pleased smirk.

The hero only realised why she’s so self-satisfied when she catches herself gaping in awe. The villain’s little cardigan is elaborate in pattern, swooping waves lining its shoulders. The yarns meld together in a perfect cacophony of colour. It’s amazing, more amazing than anything the hero could do.

The villain soaks in the praise with a humble nod before setting her gaze on the hero. It probably looks hopeful to anyone else, but the hero can see the glitter of arrogance in her eye. Go on, the villain’s practically saying, tell me how great I am.

“It’s nice,” the hero says through gritted teeth, and the villain’s smile turns humoured.

The hero can’t leave fast enough. Everyone else is packing their projects away. The hero’s blanket gets folded thankfully easily and she’s out the door before anyone can stop her.

Fine. A new project. Something to advance her skills and show the villain that she’s not the hot shit she thinks she is.

It takes all week. The hero holds her jumper up to show the group. The villain raises her eyebrows from across the circle.

“Inspired by another knitter here,” the hero says with what could almost be sarcasm, and the villain snorts a poorly contained laugh.

The villain shows off her creation. A pair of mittens, the patterns lacy and the colours bright. The hero scowls. Pissed doesn’t describe the feeling.

Next week. A layered scarf from the hero. The villain wins everyone’s affections with a tiny knitted elephant. “For my niece’s birthday,” the villain says innocently. “She loves them.”

Leaving is becoming more of a race with each passing week. “Keep trying,” the villain comments brightly before the hero can escape. “You’ve plenty of room to improve.”

The hero considers strangling the villain with her scarf.

The hero settles at her computer that evening with a scowl and a cup of hot chocolate, mentally prepared to prowl the internet for several hours for ideas on how to one-up the villain. It’s madness. She’s meant to be out there kicking the villain’s ass, and here she is trying to out-knit her.

It’s been three weeks, and she’s only just realising that her stress-relieving hobby is suddenly a lot more stress-inducing.

“Fuck,” she hisses outloud, and she momentarily considers the idea of knitting the word into a coaster for the villain too.

[nonagesiiiimus]

eden's tlt reread: GTN, chapter one (pgs. 15-24)

before i really get into it, there's a few things i'm going to try and track throughout this reread (with some color coding, ooh): for right now, i'd like to start with words i had to look up, references to threes or other significant numbers, physical structure of the settings, and foreshadowing. i'll probably add some more things to track as i go.

interlude: on the Ninth House's layout

briefly, i want to talk about the description and structure of the Ninth house. we get some descriptions on pgs 15- 17, and 23 in the first chapter, with more peppered throughout the book. Gideon says that "this late in the equinox no light would make it [to the Ninth] for months", which puts the Ninth on the far reaches of the solar system (pg. 15). based on the rest of the description: no atmosphere of its own, rocky, freezing cold, it's easy to say this is Pluto. there's a quote later in the book when they are on the First and Gideon is confused by the nighttime that confirms this: “Griddle,” she said, “this planet spins much faster than ours.” At Gideon’s continued blank expression: “It’s night, you tool” (pg 86). one day on Pluto is equal to a week on Earth, so it makes sense for her to be confused about this new circadian rhythm.

now, for the structure of the ninth: it's pretty straightforwardly a tunnel down the center of the planet, with offshoots and balconies facing inward of the tunnel: "the Ninth was an enormous hole cracked vertically into the planet's core, and the prison a bubble installation set halfway up into the atmosphere where the living conditions were probably a hell of a lot more clement" (p. 23). clement = mild, merciful. there seems to be a first floor/ main bottom layer, where the "cold white doors of Castle Drearburh" are set (p. 16). we can assume as well that the tomb is also in the Castle Drearburh, along with the church. there seems to be different tiers cut into the tunnel that are living quarters and other rooms, and a splitoff point that leads out towards the landing pad: "Leaving her cell and swinging her pack over one shoulder, she took the time to walk down five flights to her mother's nameless catacomb niche [...] then came the long hike up twenty-two flights the back way [...] heading to the splitoff shaft and the pit where her ride would arrive" (p. 15). they must be pretty significant structures built into the surrounding walls of the drillshaft. this is emphasized by a later quote that says "They hadn't managed to cozen [Giden] inside Drearburh for a good two years", meaning Gideon must have had no reason to go into Drearburh for all that time- her living quarters and spaces are all separate of the castle (p.36). the landing field for the shuttle seems to be up the splitoff shaft really high up, on a terrace above all the living quarters (but not above the snow leek fields, which must be on the highest terrace?)

back to regularly scheduled c1 thoughts

~ chapter one ~

a wee bit of foreshadowing here: "Gideon never ran unless she had to", first appearing on the very first page of GTN, only to reappear later when Dulcinea/Cytherea faints at Canaan House!

the use of would instead of could in this quote: "her mother hadn't been in there since Gideon was little and would never go back in it now" (p.15): idk if this is anything, but to me it emphasizes Wake's willfull spirit.

first mention of frontline titties of the fifth on pg. 18 in talking with Crux!

the interaction with Crux is so sick and twisted and gross but also some of the first we get to see of Gideon's banter and personality. i also personally love the descriptors tamsyn uses for Crux's speech: bubbles, croaks, gurgles. it's gross and perfect

Crux says, "one day we will use your parts for paper" (p.19). this brings up one of my biggest and most longstanding questions: what is flimsy, and what is the deal with organic material in the Dominicus system? tamsyn muir has confirmed that flimsy itself is an oil-based paper akin to a plastic film, but this topic is deserving of its own post later on because i have a lot of thoughts. however, harrow later has a journal that has a cover of "tanned human leather" (pg. 146). yuck. maybe both are used? maybe the oil that flimsy is made of is derivative of humans fat? ew.

"You talk so loudly for chattel, Nav" (p. 18). chattel= n enslaved person held as the legal property of another, a bondsman

"Gideon was home free. Gideon was gone" (p. 20). this made me laugh because of a joke from HTN: when Augustine tells Harrow that if he wants Ortus the First to go, “he’ll be giddy-gone", which i unfortunately don't have the page number for but is funny to me here when reflecting. gideon, giddy-gone!

"[Aiglamene] simply backhanded Gideon the way you might hit a barking animal" (p. 21). this line breaks my heart every single time. gideon is striving so desperately for agency in this moment, and is so discounted even by the one person who she feels might be slightly looking out for her. aiglamene asking "will you disgrace me?" right after this also stings Gideon and stings me- it's an ask for obedience that i just despise on contact.

"sin of perfidy": perfidy = disloyalty, deceitfulness, a deliberate betrayal of trust. the highest sin in Aiglamene's eyes.

another quote that rips my heart out: : "Nobody had ever loved [Gideon] in the house of the Ninth" (p. 22). brb, crying my eyes out.

FIRST COMMANDER WAKE MENTION! pg. 23 tells the story of Wake tumbling down the drillshaft and landing brain dead in a hazmat suit, with one-day old Gideon in a bio-container plugged into the suit. there's a fabulous quote here that says "she was too far gone by the time the exhausted nuns had tethered her by force, as though death had been the catalyst for the woman to hit the ground running, and they only got one word out of her: she had screamed Gideon! Gideon! Gideon! three times, and fled" (p. 23). not only do we see the foreshadowed antics of Commander Wake's spirit here, but we also see one of our first references to the number 3. threes become pretty important and reoccuring in this book, for reasons that i think require their own post.

one other number thing: this is gideon's 87th attempt at escape. 87 could also be a significant number, which may requires its own post on my part. harrow is the 87th reverend mother, there's gideon's 87 attempts. maybe this is a thin thread, but someone posted in this reddit thread that it could be a reference to Judges 8:7:

Then Gideon replied, “Just for that, when the Lord has given Zebah and Zalmunna into my hand, I will tear your flesh with desert thorns and briers.

it makes sense with Gideon's name referencing the demise of someone else, as Tamsyn helpfully addended, but it might be too thin of a theory.

this concludes my thoughts on chapter one! super excited to keep rolling on this deep dive.