#and almost MURDERED 7000 PEOPLE

[chainsawmascara]

You can tell who hasn't been through severe psychological and sexual abuse by whether or not they want to hug astarion after he kills cazador.

[kirain]

What do you think of Gandrel? First time I played I let Astarion kill him and thought it was funny, but I super regretted it later. I've done 4 play through of bg3 and I haven't let him kill him ever since.

Real. I genuinely hate how many people let Astarion kill him for a sliver of approval they don't even need. Gandrel is a good man, simply looking for his daughters—the daughters Astarion kidnapped. The first time I played, I didn't have Astarion with me when I met him. I heard him out, but ultimately told him to stay away from my friend. Then, out of curiosity, I reloaded and brought Astarion with me. I didn't even get a chance to finish the conversation before he stabbed the man in the eye. Obviously, I reloaded again and let Gandrel live. I wasn't willing to let Astarion murder him over blatant racism.

And it was racism. In D&D, the Gur are a nomadic people of mostly dusk-skinned monster hunters and fortune tellers. They're private and honourable, their alignment usually good or neutral. They have a bad reputation only amongst settled people (living in cities or towns), who view them as shifty and untrustworthy solely because they don't live like the majority of the population. They're regarded as cut-throat and unclean, for no reason other than them being nomadic. You need only listen to Astarion's stereotypical description of them to know he hated them long before Cazador came along.

In Early Access there used to be a line of dialogue where, if you pushed Astarion for details about the night he turned, he admitted the Gur attacked him because they were dissatisfied with a ruling he passed regarding their people. This was because Astarion was initially written to be a corrupt magistrate. In the new release, however, that line and backstory are gone, likely because Larian was worried players would have a harder time sympathising with him—because he is outwardly racist. He even quips about eating Kobolds, because to him they're "animals". But they're not animals. They're a playable race in D&D. They're sentient. He simply sees them as lesser beings. And he feels the same way about gnomes, too. 😒

Now obviously he gets over that prejudice if you romance him as a gnome (or any small race), but some people tend to defend all of Astarion's worst traits, to an almost unhealthy degree. His racism is not excusable. It should be criticised, in the same way you can criticise his hatred of the Gur. Personally, when he told me about the attack, I told him he couldn't hold all Gur responsible. He didn't like that, of course, but I stuck to it, and by Act 3 he agreed to help save their children. In my opinion, that's the best way to help Astarion become a better person. He needs pushback and a friendly, morally good influence.

Plus, the Gur weren't wrong for hunting him. It wasn't his fault, but he did steal their children. Gandrel wasn't lying about that. If you pass a persuasion check when you meet him, he'll tell you he's looking for "the monster who stole our children", and the reason he refuses to tell you anything at first is because he doesn't want to put you in danger. He even warns you about Ethel and offers to trade supplies. He's a good man, as most of his people are. In fact, the whole tribe is extremely reasonable when interacting with you, even if you set 7000 hungry spawn loose on the Sword Coast. If you do so, Gandrel can later be found in the sewers, lamenting over his daughters.

So to anyone who let Astarion kill Gandrel: if you do another playthrough, maybe give the poor guy a chance? He's just a worried father looking for his kids. 😔

[meeeeeeese]

Moose's Guide to Quick and Easy Gold

So I get the vibes in the community here that a bunch of people don't really know all the tips and tricks to making easy money, so I thought I'd do a writeup on some of the small ways I make gold in Guild wars 2

Trick 1: You have wealth you don't know about

An inportant thing about Gw2 is that a lot of the wealth it gives out isn't in actual gold but in materials that you can then sell for gold. For a lot of people I think its easy to just click 'deposit all materials' and then forget about it. For me personally I have only 100 gold in my wallet but If I were to empty out my material storage I'd gain an additional 300 or so gold. The site GW2 efficiency is really helpful for telling you what high value items you might be holding on to, though It takes a bit of setting up.

Trick 2: Sell Orders!

Admittedly this is something I'm bad about, but if you can delay your gratification, but when you sell something don't fulfill someone elses buy order and instead, set up a sell order. I'll give you up to 10% more gold out of everything you sell

Ok now onto the acutal wealth generation methods

Trick 3: Send your least favorite character to the New Kaineng Jumping Puzzle

Jumping Puzzles in EoD reward jade runestones from their final chest, which go for 80 silver on the trading post.

Find the wiki page to get you through the jumping puzzle here, though there are often commanders on the New Kaineng lfg offering teleport to friend transport to the end of the puzzle. Basically you get a character to the end chest and every reset log in on that character and get your free! runestone, almost a gold for ~30 seconds of work

(as a note you only get the runestone once per day per account so don't send multiple characters there)

Trick 4: Leivas Hands out Gold, make sure to collect it

Ok not actually but he may as well. So this guy who hangs out in Arborstone, once you've gotten the Globalization mastery, will sell you 5 antique summoning stones every week for a grand total of 10 green prophet shards, 10 unusual coins, 100 imperial favours, 7000 karma and 1 gold. The summoning stones can then be sold on for ~3 gold each, netting you a profit of 14 gold for going up to an npc and pressing 'f' (or whatever your interact key is)

Trick 5: fast and profitable metas you should be doing daily

Let me introduce you to my favorite wiki page:

the event timers list

This lists out every meta event and world boss that'll be happening soon and all of them will give you at least something, and the meta's from HoT onwards awards you a hero's choice chest that'll contain at least one of these valuable materials to choose from: amalgamated gemstone (60 silver), jade runestone (80 silver), ancient ambergris (1 gold 70 silver) or an antique summoning stone (3 gold). It should be noted the last 3 only appear in the EoD meta's, for all other times choose the amalgamated gemstone.

With that aside there are 3 events in particular that you should try to get done that'll take 10 minutes or less

first up is the Legendary Ley-Line Anomaly, the naked man. The timer's page tells you which zone it'll spawn in and when it does you have to seek it out and murder it. Mounts are very recommended because this thing dies fast. Anyway when you kill it, it drops 2 things: a mystic coin (1 gold 20 silver) and some vendor trash worth 50 silver, pretty gold for 5 minutes of work

next is Dragonstorm. It happens once every 2 hours starting from the eye of the north and affords you the opportunity to beat up Ryland. If you join the public option you join a crowd of up to 50 other people and its easy enough that you could even afk if you wanted (though that would be very rude). Anyway once you murder the champions and blast the dragons you get to watch them share a passionate kiss as the die and you then get 2 gold straight up, 6 memories of aurene (worth 1.5 gold in total) as well as a chance to win the lottery and get ascended weapons or, even rarer, the very expensive eye infusions

Finally is Tequatl the Sunless, a world boss in Sparkfly Fen that awards you 1 gold straight up as well as a chance at an ascended weapon as well as a bunch of materials and unidentified gear

speaking of which all the other events give unidentified gear too and they aren't actually terrible rewards, you can get a pretty penny from selling them.

Trick 6: Daily Rewards

Firstly, just logging in every day gives you a sadly decent amount of income, mostly in laurels and mystic coins. Coins can just be sold if you're after cold, laurels can be spent on a variety of stuff. And if you're looking to turn a profit, HERE are the best ways to do so.

Also, do your daily achievements people, sometimes they're a pain but the daily completionist gives 2 gold as well as 15 achievement points, more than most other achievements in the game. Also they drive you towards content you wouldn't do otherwise (the daily achievements are the reason why I've done most of the jumping puzzles). Also If you're bad at any of the dailies on offer, usually a bunch of other people are also trying to do dailies and they're often willing to help. I see mesmers porting people through the daily JPs all the time.

Trick 7: Spirit shards can be converted to Gold???

I admit, this isn't something I do myself but if you're accumulating spirit shards like I am there are methods to turn them into gold

They're listed HERE

(again, this isn't something I've tried myself, I can't vouch for how well it works and all the methods require a starting amount of gold. But if you're desperate it might be something to consider

But I want more Gold, how do I get it?

If your looking for serious gold farming there are probably better guides than this but here are a few pointers to start raking in the money

1: As far as I understand, Drizzlewood Coast is the most profitable activity in the game, gold per hour wise. Runs take a while and you kind of have to pay attention to maximise gains but, if gold's what you want this is a good option.

2: Look for meta trains, I notice them happening a lot around reset, basically its a group that goes from meta to meta doing them in sequence. There are a few guilds that do them every day so if you see a train, chances are its on at the same time every day. I find them to be pretty chill, offer some nice variety in content and offer good rewards as well.

3: Fractals. Yeah I know this is getting into endgame content but doing T4 fractal dailies every day gives you around 20 gold straight up, a bunch of materials worth even more gold and a decent chance at ascended armor and weapons (and so many ascended trinkets, seriously at this point they get auto-salvaged if they drop)

Apart from that, pretty much everything in this game gives you some amount of rewards, even if they aren't entirely obvious, so don't stress too much, provided you aren't roleplaying in the serrated blade or whatever (Though good on you for having fun!) you're likely earning some amount of income. Even if it's only in materials

[miwhotep]

MILVERTON - WHAT'S REALLY IN THE CONAN DOYLE CANON

For my first post, I got a lot of rebloggings which was really encouraging that people really don't want to tear me apart for liking YuuMori Milverton, but they were also an interesting read related to what people thinks on what's in the original Conan Doyle story. So I've decided to make a post about how actually The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton happened - what different adaptations added or took away, and clear some misconceptions. Originally, I wanted to include the Moriarty the Patriot version of Milverton here, too - but I realized this post will be long enough on his own, so I made a different post just for the YuuMori one - its relations to the canon and further inspirations.

Little interesting fact as starter: Conan Doyle based Milverton's character on a 19th centurian art dealer called Charles Augustus Howell. Howell was friends with a poet/artist Dante Gabriel Rosetti - Howell was also his agent - and he and his artist lover, Rosa Corder faked Rosetti paintings together and sold it for money. There is also a theory that Howell was a blackmailer, but this never got proved. Howell might've died a mysterious death: he was found killed in his home with a coin in his mouth - but some historians doubt this story and state that he died in an illness.

Now, let's get to the Conan Doyle canon. A woman called Lady Eva Brackwell turns to Sherlock Holmes because Milverton got his hands on some love letters she wrote to her crush - but she is about to marry an earl who wouldn't react well to see these letters. Milverton asked 7000 pounds from her to keep silent - since she doesn't have that much money, she asked Holmes to help her negotiate a lower price with Milverton. Holmes invited Milverton to his office, but the negotiations failed - so Holmes and Watson tried to attack Milverton to take the letters away by force, but he pulled out a gun and told them that the letters are not with him - he is not stupid after all. After this defeat, Holmes chose a more extreme way to fight: he seduced one of Milverton's maid and engaged with her to get more information on Milverton's house. Then he and Watson broke into the house - but Milverton was still awake because he waited for a client, who turned out to be a vengeful woman whose life got ruined by Milverton. She killed him and got away. Holmes and Watson then burned Milverton's blackmail materials and escaped, but they almost got caught. Lestrade the next day turned to Holmes to help him solve the Milverton murder, but Holmes declined. At the end of the story, Holmes secretly showed Watson that the vengeful woman last night was a woman in a really, really high position.

That is my favourite Sherlock Holmes story ever since I'm a child and I found Milverton a really interesting villain: an irredeemable, despicable being who, with a seemingly nice smile on his face tells people in a kind voice, how much money he wants for not ruining their lives - he always maintains a gentlemanly behavior, because he doesn't need to act threatening - as a blackmailer, his whole existence is a threat. And he is the one villain who doesn't just make Holmes go illegal, but also makes him use an innocent woman to get close to him.

The story got adapted several times, most notably by Granada, Soviet Holmes and BBC. These adaptations changed several things compared to the original canon: the Granada added lot of blackmail stories NOT IN THE CANON: neither ball scenes was in the original, nor the outing the gay soldier to his fiance or Lady Eva's maid betraying her, or Holmes and Watson's pub investigation or Holmes visiting Milverton in his house... etc, etc, etc. Beside that the actor who played Milverton was superb, I never liked this adaptation - I love Granada wholeheartedly, but the later seasons felt really messy - they added too many things not in the books and the Milverton episode was also way too hard on the romance aspect (and the balls).

On the contrary, I love the BBC Sherlock version of the story (except the end) - Sherlock was really a hit or miss with me, but I think they modernized the Milverton case well (and Lars Mikkelsen was great). Milverton there was a media mogul called Magnussen - a foreigner, not English - who liked controlling people through blackmail and had an incredible memory similar to Sherlock. He also had a tendency of disrespecting boundaries (the piss in the living room). The misconception of Mary Morstan getting blackmailed by Milverton comes from here - in the canon, this NEVER happened, they never even interacted. Here, Mary was the vengeful woman wo distracted Sherlock and John's break-in to Milverton's and Sherlock ended up taking up the case from Mary, but unable to outsmart Milverton, he killed him in the end - which also didn't happen: Sherlock Holmes only ever killed in self-defense, he never murdered anyone.

The most faithful adaptation of the three is the Soviet Holmes episode, but even that added some further elements to the original stories: Holmes and Watson got hired by Mycroft to help on Lady Eva, they were absolute loosers when they broke in and Milverton there was an agent of Moriarty.

(However, there is one more adaptation what said to be even more faithful: the 1965 BBC one with Douglas Wilmer, but sadly I never got to see that series, only the Cushing parts.)

In conclusion, all of these adaptations differ from the Conan Doyle canon (why can't just people adapt the original story on screen faithfully once). But I like to think about Sherlock Holmes adaptations as a whole multiverse: alternate Sherlocks, Watsons or Milvertons - and everyone can choose their favourite.

And now, let's get to the next post: the Moriarty the Patriot version!

[antispopausandstuff]

a discussion ( IMPORTANT )

.

hello, everyone.

i will get to the much more important matter of this first and foremost, and then get into much smaller details after.

if you are not aware, Palestine is suffering a genocide at the hands of Israeli government and military, and Palestine's connection with the outside world has been almost completely cut off after a bombing hit the center that controls all communications.

right now, Palestine is suffering even more bombings. to give you a picture in what has happened to them in detail:

there are now very little reporters and journalists to give word on what is currently happening, and they are getting murdered.

there is no way for the people to call 911 // 101, leaving many to slowly die or not have a chance at coming back.

they have cut off their electricity, water, food, and medical aid. they have left Palestine with nothing.

they have bombed hospitals, and are currently trying to bomb the largest hospital ( with 50,000+ inside ), under the claims ( with no evidence ) that terrorists // the hamas are inside.

since the attacks, over 7000 people ( 2000+ children ) have died, and there are documents of every single one of them. it is said there are even more.

even more is happening, and there are many recordings, articles, photos, etc. of the horrors of this genocide.

children are being buried under rubble in their sleep, they are praying for safety, for help, for protection, spouses are being torn apart, homes older than most of my community are bombed down into nothing. this is not a war. this is genocide.

families are being torn apart. children are becoming orphans. spouses are becoming widows. nothing justifies this, nothing justifies the slaughter of thousands of innocents.

in order to help:

demand a ceasefire ( this will send you to a site that has multiple options on how to help ).

share everything you know about Palestine's suffering. ( a good start is sbeih.jpg )

boycott companies ( the big 3: starbucks, mcdonalds, and disney plus, but please look into more ).

make donations to Palestine. ( there are also fundraisers on all of my instagram accounts )

inform your friends, family, anyone you can of what is happening. do not fall for the propaganda.

it is vital for their survival to do as much as we can to support them, to stand and fight for them. please, do not ignore this. do not look away. do not get used to what is happening. please, please, please do not stop caring for all of Palestine.

free Palestine.

.

i have made the rebranding for this account recently, but before i was aware of this horrifying act of inhumanity. now that i am more knowledgeable of this, it has changed a lot of how i view life.

it doesn't feel appropriate now, to call my take on this show as a story of war, with what i do know. the acts of the horde are very similar, if not exact, to the acts of the government on Palestine.

with this all in mind, how nate has made the original she-ra into what it is "known for" today has me absolutely appalled and disgusted, more than ever before. spop is not a story of love, it is a story of war criminal apologists, and war criminals getting a happy ending, because they were sad. it is a story of glorified propaganda.

it is a love letter to war criminals, no matter how much people want to argue otherwise, no matter what nate's intentions were. it is a disservice to those who have suffered from war, genocide, abuse, military, starvation, abuse of power, amongst many other things.

why am i bringing this up?

to tell you all that my remake will most likely not be out for a long, long time. i do not want to disrespect the stories told by victims, to bring shame to those who do not deserve it, by making the wrong decisions.

the story will definitely not be the next avatar, it will not be the next anything. but i do not want to be careless, or under the pretenses that i "know enough". i want to be a responsible writer, and that means taking responsibility for what i give to my audience.

so, if you've read this, please do not ask me further questions on how my writing for this story is coming along. this will take time, and time is what will be given. you can ask me about various things, of course ( such as what i will do with characters, relationships, etc. ), but i will not speak on what the story will entail or what it will evolve into.

thank you for your support, and stand with Palestine.

[kurooharuniji]

I think it's time for me to better introduce you my characters. Especially since I'm working on comic (concepts and script stage) and planning on drawing some little scenes with main chars.

So, I'll begin with Mors Sanguinea, the ancient superior demon. Or Vincent Earl, as he calls himself in human form. Here's bunch of art with him and some lore. He will be one of the two main characters of my comic. Not all of this art is comic related, but Mors doesn't change much from story to story.

His actual references:

Mors is superior (high ranking) demon, one of Hell dukes. He is about 7000 years old (he doesn't remember exact number himself). Once Mors was a human, a high priest of solar god, but was murdered (deservedly, he was pain in the ass even as a human) and reborn as a demon. His height is about 198cm (6,5ft) and looks like ~35 years old. He has sharp, Mephistopheles-like features and toned body.

And here's his true form:

He's very horny btw. Bisexual and switch (but mostly dom).

Mors is narcissistic and manipulative, prone to use people. He knows almost no shame or compassion, he has some empathy, but it's weak. Mors is theatrical and emotional, natural drama queen, but usually manages to keep his cool composure. He plays a suave gentleman with exquisite manners, but actually is a vicious, bloodthirsty monster.

Mors has strong charisma and alluring aura, he is pretty good at hypnosis and persuasion. Aaand he doesn't respect personal space. >:^(

At the comic's timeline (setting is kind of Victorian/Edwardian with some anachronisms) Vincent lives at a manor near London and is a famous British theatre actor. He is fond of all kinds of art and himself can play violin and piano, and, obviously, is a good singer (basso).

Red rose is his signature symbol. Additional symbol are daffodils.

If you've read up to here - thank you!!! I'm grateful indeed.

Btw, Mors is my oldest active character, he will be 10 years at this year December. 💀

[queenrizzardnthelizardscissored]

thoughts on wyll baldur gate:

The Thing about wyll is that he's almost very interesting. He's this nobleman - no, noblekid, barely even an adult - who grows up on these stories of adventure, of romance, of great heroes sacrificing themselves for their people - he is raised in a position of power and is taught, from that elevated perch, to help people, in the most Grand and Story-like way. He doesn't think twice about sacrificing his soul to save the city - twice - even when it is an objectively bad choice - not just because he is a good person, but because he has been taught that the specific way to be a good person is to be self-sacrificing, to be noble in a very particular way. When he has the chance to save the city from a dragon-summoning, a threat that could be dealt with in other ways! he sells his soul to the devil and deals with all of them. when he is exiled, he becomes a folk hero, and obeys his pact in his own helpful way - hes not an evil warlock, he's a self-sacrificing hero! He cannot see past his conception of a hero as a guy that gives everything, and because of that, he makes mistakes that hurt more people, not least himself, just because he Learned It In A Book. he just about admits this to you multiple times. 

in every single choice that his main companion quest has, he seems to want to make the most ‘noble’ choice, pragmatism be damned: 

kill the evil hellbeast, don't bother parleying, it'll only try and trick you.

Don't extort the woman (she's a devil, but still!) before saving her, that's a Bad Thing To Do. 

Give your soul to save your father in particular! Never mind that this means that he would still be pacted to mizora, meaning that he would doubtless have to kill more innocents like karlach, and that there are countless other ways to kill Gortash. 

He wants to do this last option not just because it's his father, who, for the record, largely ignores him save for teaching him to serve others and then going (shocked pikachu face) when he follows through on it, but because he still feels like he hasn't given enough, like he has to make up for some wrong thing he's done by just trying to help. 

Even beyond these big moments, he has a lot of admirable, idealistisc traits - save everyone, spare everyone you can, be intrinsically good. These traits should, in theory, clash with the real world - his ideals should be tested, pragmatism vs. nobility, vengeance vs. heroism. The issue here is that they just. Don't. you can save just about everyone in this game with no consequences -

save the tieflings in the grove, and expose the shadow druids! no one has to die! free halsin and volo and everyone with no downsides.

save the gnomes from nere, save the gith egg and the child being picked on.

save minthara from being mind controlled and have her join the party. save the tieflings again in moonrise, save zevlor from the mind flayer pods, save last light and the moon lesbians (my beloved) and talk, literally talk, all the big bad to death.

save a girl from a hag twice, save undead from their master, save 7000 vampire spawn and release them into the streets murdering and rampaging, oh wait, they can go into the underdark with no consequences. save the gondians from the banites, save *everyone* on the iron throne, including wylls father despite breaking the pact. 

the game has a lot of choice, but it's all very black and white, obviously good and bad - save the refugees or kill them, save the elephant or become a bhaalist. even the godsdamned organized crime quest has the obviously bad option who are slavers, and the good guy thieves guild. there's some good pragmatic vs. nice choices in the companion quests, but the rewards they are offer are so obvious and in your face that it feels like trading your morals for such a tiny benefit it's not even worth it. there's literally only one morally hard choice in the game, and that's whether or not to become a mind flayer instead of Orpheus, and really even that's just “do you want to be a mind flayer or not”. The obvious, morally correct thing to do there is to take the deal, and if Wyll were the party leader, he would do it in a second. The world itself is basically one of Wylls stories, and so his moral system almost always works, except for in the specific scenarios I outlined in his companion quest. His self sacrificing, heroic, throw yourself into every danger outlook works, because it's a game with a relatively straightforward story morally, which, let be clear, is not a bad thing! at all! it's a valid way of writing a game story! but it means that his ideology basically never gets any pushback except from the player. Even at the end of the game, he wants to be a blade of Frontiers, not a grand Duke - and, from what we've seen in the game, that's fine! but of course, being a grand Duke would allow him to make sweeping changes, to fix things like the refugee problems, lack of food and housing, criminal underbelly, etc, and it's also more comfortable, and that's why he'll never pick it without your characters influence. His view of serving and being a hero is so self-sacrificial and so individualized that even when he hates the system, even when he wants to reject it, he does so not by tearing it down and building a new system, or changing it from the inside, or building a sort of mutual support system, but instead by just being a vigilante who goes around solving individual small problems with wayyy too much firepower. and because of that, he doesn't address the real issues, like starvation, homelessness, extortion, the fact there are hags and necromancers inside the city walls without even a notice, etc.

but because the game doesn't challenge him on any of these beliefs, save the self-sacrificial aspect, and even then only through the player, he remains rather flat. he doesn't ever blame his father or the nobility or any of it.

[druckkugelschreiber]

Find the words

Tagged by the incomparable (did I write that right?!) @mxkelsifer . This is actually the reason it took so long to answer because I need my pc to properly find the words lol. Anyway thanks for the tag, I love these!

The words: flame, mischief, sun, and alone.

I'm sideeying alone so hard already. That one's going to hurt if I find the right oneshot.

Also once more incapable of being short about anything. Sorry not sorry.

Flame

I wanted Andy to believe me. “It’s the hobbit prinzip.” “Das Hobbit Prinzip?”  I hummed in agreement. “It’s the little good things make the big good things. Who makes the world normal? The majority of people. They do the little good things, helping out a neighbour, carrying bags for an old woman, finding a lost pet. That’s the little things that bring the good intot he world. Killing takes bad out of the world, but it doesn’t bring good into it. Now taking the bad out of the world is necessary sometimes, but it doesn’t rebuild the world. So, if you feel like you have to do something. You do the little things. You go out there and plant a community garden and see how much things change around you. How the community begins smiling, or you rescue children from bad situations and teach them to read, build schools whatever. You made yourself. Imagine 7000 years ago you said ‘we’re going to teach everyone to read and educate them. We’re going to be explorers and scientists and not fighters, what then?” Andy took a sharp breath. “You made us. You decided we were fighters, but that doesn’t mean all of us have to fight forever. Every war has to end sometimes.” “And if I hate people and don’t want to help them anymore?” Andy asked almost pouty. I held back a laugh. “Well, I have a lovely cabin up in the norwegian mountains, not a soul around for two hours. Chickens, dogs, cows, whatever your heart might desire.” “That sounds peaceful.” “It’s really nice. I spend an entire year there in 2009.” Andy nodded and I could see some of her cracks mending. “So… you wouldn’t… you don’t think it’s a bad idea?” “I think it’s the greatest idea you had recently”, I said honestly and squeezed her hand. Andy made a disbelieving sound. “I don’t think I would even know what to do with myself.” “Come with me”, I said, keeping my voice light to take the pressure out of the suggestion. Just a friendly suggestion. “As I said, I think Africa would be great for you.” “I don’t think killing poachers is what I’m looking for.” “Well you can always shovel elephan shit, fix fences, learn about vet med on the fly”, I smiled at her. “And if you don’t like it we can still go to that cabin or do other humanitarian work. The world might be on fire, but there are a lot of places we can douse the flames a little.” 

Okay this was longer than expected but I love The Hobbit Prinzip and I love this whole thing.

Mischief

“By the way”, I asked when got out of the jeep after our shopping trip, “can you braid hair?” “Yes, why?” Nile asked, a shopping bag in her hand while I carried another one. “Could you braid my hair for the midsummer festival?” Nile stopped on the porch, mischief lighting her face, “you’re going to dress up really fine aren’t you?” “I’m going to show Andy all she threw away.” Nile laughed and held the front door open for me, “in that I’m all yours.” We put the bags down by the stairs and walked into the kitchen. Andy and Seb were facing each other on opposite sites of the table. Nicky and Joe were also there. The tension was thick enough to cut. Boromir lurked at the edges, keeping an eye on everything, though Sam and Nico were nowhere to be seen. “Please tell me you weren’t arguing”, I said, crossing my arms and stepping up next to Seb, who was closest to the door. Nile took a more neutral position between the two warring parties. “No”, Andy said with an expression that was barely contained murder. If looks could kill. “We just cleared up some things.” I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to glare at her or check on Seb. Considering I wasn’t sure if Andy had been mean or not, I focused on Seb. His entire face was closed off. “Hey”, I brushed his cheek with the tips of my fingers, causing him to finally look down to me, “are you okay?”

I need to revisit this story. It's so much fun. Also no one's feeling very mischievous in my stories, geez I wonder why

Sun

The words didn’t help this time around. “Why is she really here, Riko?”  “I was telling the truth. She really got into an argument with the team. Andy isn’t good at being alone, so I took her with me.” “Just like that?” what happened to ‘Andy abandoned me?’ to ‘it’s her fault’ and all that hate that had burned in Noriko’s eyes when the nightmares haunted her. Noriko’s eyes flew to Andy and I could see it. The very valid reason for my fear. The god damn ocean of love she held for the other woman. It was heartbreaking and beautiful to witness at the same time. I could feel even the anxiety dying because that right there. How the sun looked at the moon, that I could never live up to. I was just… well quite frankly I was just autistic old me. I was weird. I was exhausted. I was anxious. I was nothing like the stories she had told me about Andy and what I had seen of her in the dreams. Always confident. Never stopping. Never afraid. And beautiful. I sighed and went numb. “What do you want me to do, Riko?” I asked and I knew the numbness, the exhaustion lingered but I had stopped hiding, masking with her a long time ago and I couldn’t put it back on again.

I really thought this would be a happy one. I mean I could have chosen a happy one but this is so deliciously angsty I couldn't help myself.

Alone

I sat at the edge of the pool, arms wrapped around my knees with my head resting on them. My back leaned against the big tree guarding one half of the pool. It was a pain in the ass to have the tree so close to the pool with all the leaves ending up in it, but I didn’t have to clean the pool, so I didn’t complain.  Andy appeared in the doorway to the garden. Her eyes locked onto me and she walked around the pool to sit down next to me.  Here we go.  “Are you okay, Bran? I mean really?” I looked at her. The way her sable hair shimmered in the sun, the way her eyes were bluer than the tiles of the pool. Andromache the scythian was stunning and sad and always carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. And she wanted to add my weight to it as well and thought it was her duty. I had never met a person who had been more selfless than Andromache.  “Yeah”, I said. “Really. I’m fine.” “You’ve been withdrawn.” “Because all of you treat me like I’m about to break.” I wasn’t. I didn’t break. I never did. I bent but never broke and that was the problem that had haunted me all my life.  “Listen, I get it if you don’t want to talk about it”- “Do you though?” I asked and couldn’t help the sharp tone in my voice. “Why poke and prod if you get it?” “I want you to know I’m here”, Andy didn’t take my anger personally, she never did and I was never actually angry at her. I didn’t think I could. The honesty on her face was disarming. “I’m really here. It’s not just something I say. I’m here whenever you need.” I sighed and had to look away. I knew my ruminating thoughts wouldn’t leave me alone and Andy… she was old enough to actually give me a good answer on this. I had a good inkling on what Nicky and Joe would say. And I didn’t need Booker’s opinion in this. The man was an expert in wallowing in self pity. “Do you think killing a person makes you a monster?”  Andy stiffened. “You’re not a monster, Bran.” “That’s not what I asked”, I shot her a glare.  Andy frowned. “No, I don’t think killing someone makes you a monster. It depends on why you killed them.” My eyes flew over her face. “Do you still feel something when you kill a person?” “No.” And that single word was filled with so much pain. Pain about what she had done, what she had lost, what she thought was a terrible flaw about herself.  I huffed and looked at the soft waves in the pool. “You think you’re a monster.” “I have entire centuries where the only thing I can remember is blood. I’m not sure monster applies anymore”, I was pretty sure the tone of Andy’s voice at this point was the definiton of haunted. Literal armies of ghosts lingered in between the words.  Great. Now I felt bad for making her relieve everything terrible. “I’m sorry.” “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.” I shook my head. Unsure if I still wanted to voice my next words.  “It’s okay to feel bad about this, Bran”, Andy said softly. “To feel it all.” The anger bubbled in my chest again. “That’s the problem Andy”, I looked back at her, “I didn’t feel anything. I still don’t feel anything. All my life people told me it’s terrible if you take a life. Every book I read, movies I watched, everyone talked about the weight of taking a life. Of what it can do to you, survivors guilt and all that and here I am and I don’t feel anything.  In the moment I killed him, I felt only rage. I don’t feel guilty for ending this man's life. There was nothing special about it. It was just there and gone.” There was no horror on her face. No judgement.  “I killed someone and I feel more pretentious guilt about not feeling guilty than feeling guilty or bad about it. I feel… I think.. I don’t know”, I kept my eyes on her face. “Still think I’m not a monster?”

Bran and Andy always give me so many feels. Another story I should really revisit. Also not the oneshot I was thinking about when I thought of alone, but I adore it!

If you read all of this I'm very impressed. Also I'm not talking about how this is all about Andy (and all the characters are women just to mention it (Andy wlw supremacy)

[bg3fandomcritical-reactive]

going off of his personality alone, if astarion was real, he would break up with whoever his partner was that helped him ascend, and probably almost immediately after - not least because he doesn't need them anymore, but upon realizing that it doesn't actually help, heal, or "fix" him in any way. it's a cheap cop out to avoid embracing what he is/has become and instead of dealing with it, becoming the worst version of himself

I dunno, they helped him murder 7000 people, he might want to double down on having an ally that willing to horrible things for him. He's going to be short on those, since people don't like vampires.

.

[mr-camhed]

Name: Obsolence/Obselence

Age: 5.75 million cycles

Gender: male

Faction: Decepticon

Assigned Forces: Decapiticon

Role: team leader

Motto: "Obsolence of Autobots is The inevitability. "

Personality: Obselence is a throughly insane bot and an extreme racialist. He worships what he believes to be powerful beings such as Quintessons(unfortunately the legends is not really true), Old Ones, Reapers and Creators; and dispises beings he considers inferior such as Autobots, factionless, multi-factioned Mechanical lifeforms and all organic lifeforms. He believes that commiting Genocide against, or "Obsolencing" these inferior beings are his true duty of existence, while loyalty to Decepticon cause is just a footnote to his racialism. He is also a very astute, and would use his fire truck disguise to get to places people gather unimpeded before going on a Rampage either with just The truck's flamethrower or transforming to robot mode to raise hell with his entire arsenal. He is also very minded that he was never a member of The Warrior Elite or Phase Sixer.

Alternate mode: Obselence can transform into either a Black long wheelbase International Paystar Fire engine with the tank similar to an Aircraft Refueling Truck's or a Soviet Project 903 Lun class Ekranoplan ground effect vehicle. Before The Triple Changer Conversion, he was a heavy duty anti-riot water cannon truck.

Appearance: Obsolence is around 18meters tall and has an transformation scheme similar to that of G1 Octane, albeit with a full black color scheme, dark red accents and subjected to Empurata. His hands are similar to that of an industrial hydraulic cutter used to cut through rubble and vehicles, and his photoreceptor is blood red.

Weaponry: Obsolence is very strong and has a rather high intelligence. In fire truck mode, Obselence had only medium speed, but a very remarkable handling, torque and offroad capability; and has a twin barrel flamethrower on The top of The vehicle which can launch 7000 degree celsius inferno to up to 150 meters away and knock down a large Transformer(like a fellow combiner torso) completely off balance with just The pressure alone. Under The Ekranoplan mode, Obsolence can reach mach 3 and an altitude of 1300meters, and The sonic boom it creates can shatter 15 inches of concrete wall. It is also armed with three twin heavy missile launcher that can launch heavy duty missiles that can carry anything from nuclear warheads to biochemical weaponry to even more missiles, and is also equipped with several autocannons and smaller missile launchers and a minelayer for Self defenses. In robot mode, Obselence can not only use all of The weaponry he can use in vehicle mode, but also use his cutter claws of hands which can cat through anything it can get around and a pair of 30mm rotary cannon which can replace his left hand. His armor can also endure almost any enemy weaponry. And as The leader of Decapiticon, Obsolence is The Torso of Autocide. And even before all these upgrades, his water cannon was still made to delivered a paralyzing shock alongside The overwhelming pressure.

Character Biography: Obselence from Polyhex was a cold constructed riot controller for The Senate Security forces. However, he was notorious for his constant use of excessive forces and even would actively provoke fights off duty just so he can assault others(mostly lower caste Transformers and occasional organics) without consequences.

However, after the miners' protest of Layoff and automation went off The rails and escalated into a massacre in which hundreds of miners, dozens of Senate Security force officers and a Senator's aide were killed on The mining colony of Messetine where Obsolence was a member of The security detail and was subjected to Empurata as a punishment for his failure, his problem worsened. He began to actively assault lower caste members and even attack them whenever there is a gathering no matter what purpose the gathering was for. And after his murder of a worker class bot with suspicion of connection to Megatron, one of the former miners of Messetine and suspect of inciting The riot, he was imprisoned and ordered psychological treatment by the newly elected Sentinel Prime as a part of his attempted reform of The Senate, although The effort would fall off after Sentinel Prime was assassinated by a "Decepticon Terrorist" and The Senate, lead by Proetus, Ratbat and Xeon, elected their fellow Senator and Functionialist Zeta to become the new Prime, and they released Obselence to have him as a member of their secret police and help them round up potential dissidents.

However, Obsolence would proceed to join The Decepticons after Zeta Prime and almost The entire Senate's Death at The Kaon Riots and volunteered for several bodies enhancement experiments including triple changer Conversion, and also participated in some of The most brutal battles in The great war, and accumulated a group of fellow Decepticons that are considered unstable by his fellow Decepticons' standards into a group called "Decapiticon" after The Destruction of The X Squadron at The battle of Pova, which specialized in commiting atrocities. And after The Decepticon civil war began, The Decapiticon would join several different warlord Factions and even for crime syndicates as soldiers of fortune.

Weakness: despite Obsolence have no obvious weakpoint physically, his madness makes cooperation with anyone other than his fellow Decapiticon difficult, and most Decepticon leaders, including Megatron The moment he joined Decepticon, would regard them as major threats once they lose allegiance, and only kept them around for effectiveness in combat.

Commentary:

[livythewriter]

Alien AU PT I (Elsbeth x Fem!Reader)

Word count: 2071 Warnings: Strong language, drug mention, blood and violence, mentions of death, a bit of angst

Summary: Reader is an alien who came down to Earth. She is assigned detective work.

Today was my third day on Earth. My mission was to learn about humanity so my kind – Ogthans – could possibly live on this planet. Our planet was in danger of being burnt to a crisp by its sun, a magnificent blue star in the middle of the Gnoarmak Solar System.

I was assigned a job with the NYPD as a deductive, I believe? I had learned English in a rush, so I wasn’t the most fluent. I still had a bit of an accent, but apparently it sounded similar to another accent on Earth in the Europe continent, Swedish I believe. So I blended in about as much as a foreign deductive in Yew Nork City could.

There was a crime today, and it was my first day on the job, so I dressed as well as I could, using the clothes I had been given. My human form blended in with all others of humanity, though I was more on the tall side.

After getting ready and doing human routines, I drove to the crime scene. It was a body found near a lake, washed up ashore. A woman in her mid 30s, blonde hair, average frame, average height. I didn’t really know what to do as a deductive, I suppose I was meant to deduce something about the crime and what happened to the woman. Her name was Agatha, and she was found with a gunshot wound to the head. It was only my third day on this planet, and I was already seeing the worst parts of humanity.

As I looked at the body, a tap on my shoulder alerted me to someone behind me. I looked behind me to see a woman, dressed in colorful clothing, with a friendly smile on her face. “Hey there, is this your first day here?”

My mind blanked, as I worried she had figured out I’m an alien, “What do you mean? I’ve been here since I borned!”

“Oh, I meant your first day on the job. That’s such a fascinating accent though, are you from somewhere else?” The woman asked.

“Swedish. I am from Swedish. What is your name?” I returned her question with one of my own.

“Elsbeth Tascioni, and you?” The woman held her hand out, and I tilted my head, confused, “You’re supposed to shake it.” I grabbed her hand and shook it vigorously in all directions. “No, more like this.” Elsbeth showed me how to shake a hand, and I nodded.

“My name is Orgre- I mean, my name is ___.” I almost said my real name, but corrected myself and gave her the name I had been assigned.

“That is a lovely name!”

“Thank you. This woman was shot.” I gestured to the dead woman. Elsbeth nodded. “By the way, I’m a deductive. That means I look at crime.”

“Oh, you mean a detective?” Elsbeth corrected me.

“Yes. What do we do about this lady?” I pointed to the dead woman.

“Well, you would look at the clues, and interview people who knew her to see who might have murdered her.” Elsbeth looked a bit suspicious, but seemed to shake it off in favor of explaining to me my job.

“Okay. I will see who murdered her.” I look at the clues around the scene. She had a piece of glass in her hand, maybe she was trying to fight back. The glass had some blood on it.

“I think she was trying to defend herself. We should see whose blood this is on the glass.” I said, wondering where this sudden know-how on how to do my job came from.

“Yes, very good! Wanna go and interview some people?” Elsbeth asked.

“Yes.” We walked up to a tall, imposing man with dark eyes. This was obviously the murderer. “Hello. I am a detective. I am detecting the murder of Agatha Brody.” I pointed at him.

“What the hell you do you want? I didn’t do shit. Fuck off, weirdo.” The man said harshly.

“Excuse me, could you tone down the language a bit? She’s just doing her job. I’m Elsbeth Tascioni. We’re just narrowing down who might have hurt Agatha. Do you know anyone who might have wanted to hurt her?” Elsbeth asked.

“I don’t know shit. Anyways, that bitch had it coming anyway. She was my landlord, charged me 7000 a month for a shabby one bedroom apartment, didn’t do shit about the cockroaches and centipedes everywhere. Or the rats chewin on my toes. Coulda gotten rabies, but she didn’t care.” The man grumbled.

“What is your name?” I asked.

“Thaddius. I know, dumb fuckin name, never cared enough to change it. I don’t give a damn about your name, so don’t bother.”

“Okay. Where were you last night?” I asked.

“Snorting blow off a strippers back, that’s where.” Thaddius snorted.

“That is illegal. I could arrest you for that.” I said bluntly.

“Oh for god’s sake, I was joking! I was at Tony’s bar smokin some weed, which is legal now so don’t bother arresting me for that.” 

“I see. Where is Tony’s bar?”

“It’s three lefts and to the right down the street.”

“Okay, bye bye. We’ll see you later.” Me and Elsbeth walked to Tony’s bar, and asked Tony if he had seen Thaddius that night. Tony said he had, and we were about to leave, when all of a sudden, a small, quiet woman stopped us.

“Can I talk to you guys in the bathroom?” She asked.

“Yes.” We followed her into the bathroom.

“I didn’t see Thaddius last night. I think Tony’s covering for him. He did come in this morning and gave Tony some money, whispering to him about something.” The woman whispered.

“Why are you whispering?” I asked.

“Walls are thin. Place is cheap. Please be careful.”

“Okay, we’re going to ask him about it, but we won’t tell him you told us, don’t worry.” We left the bathroom and walked up to Tony.

“Excuse me, Tony.” I began, “Somebody said that Thaddius wasn’t here last night and that he came in here this morning and gave you money, is this true?”

“Get outta here, I ain’t got time to answer questions.” Tony waved us off dismissively.

“Hi, I’m Elsbeth Tascioni.” Elsbeth greeted Tony with a smile, “We really don’t mean to bother you, it’s just that you’re not putting yourself in the best light here. If you tell us what happened, we won’t arrest you for accessory to a crime if we find Thaddius to be guilty!”

“Okay fine, christ. He wasn’t here last night, and he did come in here this morning to offer me money to tell anyone who asks that he was here last night. He said it’s cause he was gonna be off with some girl, someone who wasn’t his wife.” Tony explained.

“Thank you so much, you’ve helped us so much!” Elsbeth waved Tony goodbye as we left.

“He is so guilty.” I said about Thaddius.

“Yeah, I had my suspicions…” Elsbeth said.

“Well I had suspicions first, so ha!” I said, suddenly feeling competitive.

“It’s not really a competition, silly…”

“But if it were, I would win!” I bragged.

“Alright then…”

We told the other detectives about what happened, and they agreed to arrest Thaddius. We watched as he was cuffed and carried away.

“Alright jeez I did it!” Thaddius shouted at us as he was whisked away, “She was threatening to tell my wife about our affair, I had to do somethin’ about it! You woulda done the same thing in my shoes!”

I turned to Elsbeth, “I do not think I would have done that.”

Elsbeth shook her head, “Yeah, me neither. You did great for your first case by the way!”

“Thank you. I will be the best detective ever.”

“Wanna go grab something to eat?” She asked.

“Yes. I haven’t had much huma- I mean, my tastes aren’t that expanded, maybe I could try something new.” I almost said I hadn’t had much human food; that would have revealed my secret.

Elsbeth looked suspicious once again, but gave me a smile, “I have a good place then. It’s a ramen shop! Have you ever tried ramen?”

“No.”

“Great! Come with me, it’s nearby!” She started walking away, and I followed her to a small building with a cozy interior.

“What kind of ramen do you want?” She asked.

“I don’t know. What kind are there?” I had heard of ramen in my giant human book, but nothing of what kinds there were.

“Let’s see… there’s miso ramen, pork ramen, beef ramen, more types that I can’t quite remember off the top of my head…” Elsbeth looked thoughtful.

“Okay. I want miso. It sounds funny.” I said.

“I think I’m gonna order the pork ramen!” We ordered our ramen and waited at the booth.

“I can’t wait to try ramen. It looks very good.” I said, “You eat it with chop-sticks, right?”

“Yes! But you can also eat it with a fork if you struggle with chopsticks.”

“I am up for the challenge!”

Elsbeth chuckled, “Alright then… I think our food is ready now, let’s go get it.” We grabbed our food and went back to the booth.

I looked at my chopsticks, and tried to grasp them, but it felt awkward, and I couldn’t grip my food with them. Elsbeth reached over and positioned my hands so I was properly gripping the chopsticks, “There you go, like this.”

“Thank you.” I struggled at first to grasp the noodles, but eventually got it right and started eating, “This is salty. I like it.” My species relied on salt to live, large amounts of it.

“I love pork ramen! It’s so good!” Elsbeth said, taking a bite out of her ramen.

“May I have a taste?” I asked.

“Of course.” I picked her ramen up and took a bite. It was very good, but not as good as mine.

“Did you like it?” Elsbeth nudged me.

“Yes. Very good. Mine is better though.”

We chatted while we ate, and I realized that I enjoyed her presence.

After that, we started getting assigned on more cases together, and grew closer as we talked more. She was my first human friend, and something I found out about her was that people tended to find her weird, but I didn’t know why because she was very normal to me.

And as we got closer, I learned more about Earth, my English getting way better.

One day we were chasing down a culprit who was running pretty fast. Elsbeth and I finally had him cornered.

“Wow, it’s a good thing I run on my treadmill regularly, otherwise I would be exhausted right now!” Elsbeth said, now slightly winded from all that running.

“Don’t make me stab you both!” The culprit yelled at us.

“It’s too late, give up. We have you cornered.” I told the man.

“Not for long you don’t.” Out of the blue, the man ran past us, but not before he stabbed Elsbeth in the stomach. Elsbeth immediately keeled over, and I ran to her side, panicking.

“Elsbeth, everything’s gonna be okay! Just stay with me!” I clasped her stomach with my hands.

“I… I’m tired…” Elsbeth said, looking at me through half-lidded eyes.

“Elsbeth please… don’t leave me here…” I felt my eyes filling up with tears. This wasn’t the first time I had cried since taking on this human form, but this time definitely felt the worst as I couldn’t stop shaking. A thought occurred to me, making me wonder if I would have to do something, a thing that would reveal what I truly was. I didn’t want to do it, but at the same time I wanted to save her, I didn’t want her to die.

“Before I go… I just want to say… I-I like you, a lot.” Elsbeth coughed blood, wheezing between words.

“No. You are not leaving me. I’m so sorry for what is about to happen.” I closed my eyes, focusing all my energy onto her wound. My hands felt hot, and even through my closed eyes a light shone bright. And then, just like that, the wound was healed.

Elsbeth looked down at where my hands cupped her stomach, confused, “___… What did you just do?”

I sighed, “Elsbeth, you know how I’m not from America?”

She nodded.

“Well, I’m not from Earth either.”

[dem0batz]

Rainbow in the Dark | series

Eddie Munson x New Girl!Reader a Stranger Things 4 au

Author's Note: None, enjoy ✨

Summary

After Eddie's unfortunate encounter with Chrissy resulting in her death and going on the run, it's up to you and the gang to track him down.

Word Count: ~7000 | Chapter List | Read on AO3

🔞Contents: mild canon-typical violence, (emotional) hurt/comfort, fluff, implied underage drinking

Chapter 3: Hunt the Freak

SATURDAY

You place the last returned tape back on the shelf while Robin gushes about a moment between her and some girl in band that she has a crush on. Meanwhile Steve whines about his string of boring dates and how he never feels any sparks. Though if what you’ve pieced together about his and Nancy Wheeler’s history holds any merit, it would appear that he was still carrying a torch for her. Eventually, Robin convinces you– and more or less forces Steve– to agree to a double feature movie to go with the mood of their romantic woes.

“Two against one, you lose!”

She sticks her tongue out at him on her way to the VCR and he rolls his eyes in return.

“Real mature, Buckley.”

You hide your grin at their bickering, keeping your eyes on the computer while you work on processing this morning’s returns. She grabs the remote control to change the input when the channel from the previous night clicks on, broadcasting the local news station on every TV throughout the store.

You had mostly blocked it out until the reporter mentioned Forest Hills trailer park and that a body of a Hawkins High student was discovered there. Eyes flicking to the screen, your chest sinks to your stomach when a very familiar trailer comes into view behind the reporter. It takes everything you have to keep your lunch from coming up.

“Isn’t that near where Max lives?” Steve asks no one in particular.

Lunging for the phone, you immediately dial Eddie’s number, the trill ringing in your ear. You almost give up until the line clicks and an unfamiliar voice sounds through the receiver.

“This is Chief Calvin Powell of the Hawkins Police Department. May I ask who’s calling?”

“H-hello, Chief Powell. Is Eddie or Wayne home?” you ask.

“I’m afraid I can’t allow anyone to come to the phone right now. This is an active crime scene and all available members of the household are being interviewed. Can I ask how you know Edward Munson?”

“I-I–” you fumble for a response as your head swarms with a string of intrusive thoughts, filling your gut with worry. What if–what if it was him? What if that was Eddie’s lifeless body in the trailer? What if something happened last night when he got home? What if a deal went bad?

What if? What if? What if?

“Do you know where he could be?” You let out a deep, silent sigh, your head falling back in relief. Thank god. If they were looking for him then the body couldn’t be his. But if they’re looking for him, then they must think that he–, “Better yet, why don’t you give me your information and then head over to the station. I’d like to talk to you in person–”

You slam the phone on the dock, hanging up on the chief.

Eddie was alive but that doesn’t mean he’s not in danger. Where is he? And how did you both wind up here? Yesterday started and ended so fucking great, even despite the fact that you had been grounded. You had been on top of the world, falling asleep on a cloud with Eddie’s confessed commitments fresh on your mind. But now from the sounds of it, your boyfriend was being targeted as a murder suspect, something you know that his gentle soul would be incapable of.

Sure, he does some shady, and minorly illegal things as a result of the circumstances he grew up in; and sure, he looked like a scary delinquent to many people in this pious town, but those were all surface level judgments. He wasn’t a violent person and only fought when he had to– in self-defense or defense of one of his friends. This is the same boy who takes the school’s losers under his wings and gives them friends, a community, and helps make their high school years mean something. And the worst part of all of this is that you have no idea where to find him or how to contact him.

No, that wasn’t the worst part.

The worst part was that he was out there somewhere, alone, and probably freaking the fuck out with no one to extend the same shelter that he often gave to others.

Helplessness sinks to your stomach like a rock.

“How many phones do you have?” a familiar voice shouts. 

The sound carries to the back room, interrupting your strew of intrusive thoughts as you mindlessly label VHS cases for the new movies set to go on the shelf next week. You had to do something to keep your hands busy while your mind ran away with itself.

Curiosity gets the better of you and you abandon your project to see what’s going on.

“Dustin!”

You approach the freshman who now was more or less a sibling to you, having spent a lot of time with him through Eddie and Hellfire.

“Good! You’re here. Do you know where Eddie is?”

“No, I was kind of hoping you did. I haven’t seen him since last night.”

“Shit,” Dustin says, sharing a knowing look with Steve, Robin, and the red-headed girl who had come into the video store with him. “I haven’t seen him since the meet and it's very important that we find him. Everyone’s in danger.”

“Danger? What do you mean? You know him better than I do, better than anyone. Eddie didn’t do this, Dustin,” you growl, ready to throw down for your boyfriend against anyone who would throw baseless accusations against him. Even if it's his own protege– especially him. The little twerp should know better.

“I know,” Dustin says, calming his voice. “He would never. We don’t have time to explain everything to you. I promise we will later but right now, our priority is to find Eddie. Do you know anywhere he could have gone?”

“I mean, he usually goes to Gareth’s on Saturdays for band practice but that doesn’t happen until after my shift is over. He always picks me up first.”

“Great, he’s first on the call list,” Dustin says, producing a spiral bound notebook with a list of potential contacts.

Shit!

“Another bust,” you seethe, slamming the phone onto the cradle a little harder than intended.

“I might have something,” Max whispers, uncovering the receiver of the phone and saying goodbye to whoever was on the other end. “Have any of you heard of a Reefer Rick? I guess that’s who Eddie buys his drugs from.”

Everyone shakes their heads and turns to you expectantly.

“Me?” you gape. “Absolutely not. Eddie and I don’t talk about his… side business.”

“Last name?” Dustin asks.

“No, he’s more of a… legend than someone people actually know,” Max says.

Shoulders sag as a feeling of defeat spreads through the group. Steve, who had been no fucking help whatsoever has the audacity to make a snippy remark about Eddie’s friend being in the police database because clearly Eddie only keeps the company of criminals. Nearly everyone rolls their eyes in response. You, however, shoot him a glare that could rival the flames of Hell, about ready to launch yourself over the counter to throttle him, friend or not.

“Just saying,” Steve says, backing away defensively and putting some distance between the two of you.

Wise decision, Harrington.

“Maybe we don’t need a last name,” Robin says as if a light bulb flicked on in her head. She steps toward the computer and takes a seat on the rolly stool, keyboard clacking as she pulls up the rental log.

“Let’s see. We have… twelve Ricks on file.”

Together, you all look through the rental histories of the various customers until you come upon a promising collection of stoner movies associated with one of them. That has to be it.

“Robin, you are a freaking genius,” you praise, grabbing her by the head and squishing a grateful kiss right on top of her auburn hair.

“Oh,” she blushes, cheeks turning bright red under her blanket of freckles.” Not-not really. It was nothing.”

Forty minutes later, you’re pulling up to a fairly secluded house and you have to squint through the window to get a glimpse of it through the dark. Steve pulls to a stop and everyone climbs out of his BMW, you and the two younger members of the group groaning with relief once you exit the back seat. Your feet touch solid ground, allowing you to finally stretch your legs. 

With a quick scan of the dark driveway, you search for any signs of Eddie’s van but much to your disappointment, it's nowhere to be seen.

That doesn’t mean it, or Eddie, isn’t here, you reassure yourself, trying to settle the uneasiness in your gut.

“I’m gonna go knock on the door,” Steve announces, already several feet ahead of everyone else. Dustin and Robin fall in line behind him while Max bypasses the door to peek through the windows.

You decide to investigate the nearby treelines, still on the hunt for Eddie’s van. As rickety as it was, the vehicle was practically a second home to him– his contingency plan. He had once told you that his dream was to pack it up after he finally graduates and drive across the country to settle down in California, wanting to pursue music. That van was his safety net. There was even a twin size mattress in the back. “For emergencies,” he had said.

Being on the run for alleged murder certainly constituted as an emergency.

A loud whistle draws your attention back to the group where you spot Steve waving you down with his flashlight and pointing toward the boathouse. Guess the house was a bust and apparently so was finding the van. You watch the rest of the group approach the building on the lake and disappear through the door together while you trudge across the property to catch up.

Please, please, please be in there, Eddie.

When you reach the side of the house a flurry of screams and yelling erupt from the boat house. Your legs pick up the pace as you sprint the rest of the way to the building. Flinging the door open and ready to fight whatever is threatening your friends, you are relieved to see a mass of dark curly hair and a familiar Dio back patch.

Eddie clutches the neck of the broken beer bottle tightly, knuckles whitening from the pressure of his grip as he curls his body into itself. He tries to steady his breathing as much as possible but it was difficult to do under this hot as fuck tarp. He was probably overreacting but every bump and noise has had him on edge ever since he dumped the van in the middle of the night and hoofed it the rest of the way to Reefer Rick’s house on Lover’s Lake. 

He’s known Rick for years– met him before Eddie had moved in with Uncle Wayne and when he had still been under his old man’s roof. Rick was a little older but had been a good friend to him over the years, giving him a place to stay when things got too heavy to stay home and he had nowhere else to go. Then after Eddie had moved in with Wayne and his life stabilized a bit, he still found himself alone a lot, since his uncle was usually sleeping during the day and working the night shift at the plant. So Eddie often found himself in the company of his old friend. Sure, eventually their relationship evolved into one of business, but Rick was Eddie’s friend first and his dealer second.

Rick has been gone more often than not lately, though, shacking up with some chick in Indy and basically abandoning the lake house. He had given Eddie a key and an open invite though, so this seemed like the most logical place for Eddie to go– really the only other place he could have gone. It would appear that it didn’t take very long for him to be found out though.

Stupid, he scolds himself. Fucking predictable is what this was.

If he was smart, he would have kept driving. Driven out of Indiana all together and not stopped until he reached the West Coast.

And he might have if it hadn’t been for you.

But he couldn’t stomach the idea of leaving you behind without a word. Leaving you to think that you meant so little to him that he would up and abandon you. Letting you think the worst of him like most people did.

He could handle everyone else’s criticisms. He had spent years carefully crafting a nearly impenetrable armor around himself to defend against baseless opinions; and yet you were one of the few people who had found the weak point in his defenses and peek inside. To see who he really is under the devil horns.

So here he was, curled up under a tarp in a tiny ass row boat, hiding out from whoever was currently outside of this building and hoping to hell that he wouldn’t have to actually use the makeshift weapon in his hand.

This is so not how he wanted to spend his Saturday night.

The door squeaks open followed by the sound of several sets of footsteps. Sucking in a sharp breath, Eddie holds it in his lungs, only allowing small exhales out to still his movement as much as possible. A few voices echo through the room but he doesn’t recognize any of them through the sound of the blood rushing in his ears. If he just holds still then maybe they’ll get bored and leave him to continue hiding out.

Luck has never been on his side though.

Something hard smacks the end of the boat, just a few feet away from where Eddie was curled up and he swears internally, cursing the Munson name. A few hushed whispers are exchanged as the smacks grow nearer to his feet.

This is not going to end well, he panics.

It's not until whatever item is being used to poke at the boat misses his ribs by a few inches that Eddie decides it's time to act. He jumps up, tossing the tarp to the side with a cry as he lunges toward the first person he sees, barreling them across the room until their back hits the interior wooden frame of the building. The jagged edges of his broken bottle touch the neck of none other than Steve freaking Harrington, of all people.

“WOAH! WOAH, EDDIE!” a familiar voice yells, drawing his attention to the right. Henderson? What the hell was this kid doing here? “Steve isn’t going to hurt you,” the kid assures, urging Steve to drop the oar.

When he does, the wood clatters loudly on the floor, sending Eddie’s nerves into high gear. He instinctively tightens his hold on the jock, pressing the bottle a little deeper against his flesh.

“We want to help,” the redhead girl from his trailer park clarifies.

Why would they want to help him? Sure, he trusted Dustin but he didn’t really know any of these other people. Didn’t fully believe he could take their word that they were here to help and not to rat him out or worse.

“We’re on your side,” Dustin reassures again, making Eddie hesitate.

Suddenly, the boathouse door flings open and one of the flashlights swing over, revealing the most beautiful face haloed by a swath of pink hair like a beacon.

Eddie releases Steve, the bottle in his hand clinking on the wooden floor as the two of you rush toward one another, meeting somewhere in the middle of the room when your bodies collide. Your arms fling around his neck and he pulls you close, squeezing you so tightly to him that you can’t breathe. His nose burrows into your hair while he pulls lungfuls of your scent through his nostrils, your mere presence granting him the comfort and relief he had been needing.

He sinks to the floor with you still held tightly in his arms, collapsing against one of the huge wooden posts and keeps you firmly against him, refusing to loosen his hold. Afraid that if he does you’ll be separated yet again by a seemingly endless strew of circumstances.

Your heart cracks in your chest when Eddie buries his face in your neck and you feel a dampness coating your skin while he sobs into you, trying his best to muffle his breakdown to prevent the group of curious eyes from seeing him in such a vulnerable state. Your eyes find Robin’s and you shoot her a desperate look which she seems to pick up on.

“Oh-kay guys, let’s uh, Steve! Aren’t there snacks in your car? I’m sure Eddie’s starving. Help me get them?”

“It's a handful of gas station snacks, Robin. Why do you need help?” Steve asks obtusely, “Ow! What was that for?” Robin jerks her head in your direction while Steve rubs his arm. His eyes follow to where she is gesturing as he takes in you and Eddie. “Right,” he says, the situation finally clicking. “Uhm, snacks! We’re gonna need two more sets of hands. C’mon, kids.”

“But we need to–” Dustin starts when Steve cuts him off.

“I said we’re getting the snacks. Out, Henderson.” Robin and Steve shuffle a complaining Dustin out of the building with Max trailing after them.

With the door closing behind them, you’re left alone in the quiet of the boathouse with only the gentle sounds of the boat rocking lightly on the water. Eddie really lets go then, howling into your shoulder as he finally allows the last two days worth of intense emotions to bleed onto your work shirt. You hug him closer, one hand petting his hair while you pepper kisses and reassurances to his ear.

Eventually, his body ceases its shuddering and he begins to relax into the comfort of your hold. His head falls to the front of your chest where the beating of your heart sings a soothing rhythm against his ear drum.

“Sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart,” he sniffles, suddenly embarrassed about his outburst and trying to deflect. “How uh, how are things at home? I thought you were grounded. Won’t you get in trouble for being out tonight?”

You shake your head, wrapping both of your arms around him as you pull him tighter to your chest. “We have bigger things to worry about than me being grounded, Eddie.”

“Yeah, like your entire future,” he retorts, pulling his head back to look up at you. “You shouldn’t be here.”

As you swipe the remaining tears from his watery lash lines, your heart shatters all over again at the sight of his big wet eyes.

“Neither should you.”

“Is it okay to come in?” Steve asks through the crack in the boathouse door.

You look at Eddie with a silent question and he nods with a sigh.

“Yeah,” you holler before the small group floods back in.

Dustin dumps a pile of wrapped snacks on the floor beside you and Eddie. The kid takes a seat on the floor next to the two of you, mumbling under his breath about how it wasn’t necessary for four people to go fetch them before turning the topic back to the issue at hand.

“Dude, what happened?”

“You won’t believe me,” Eddie sniffles with a humorless laugh as he swipes at his nose with the sleeve of his jacket.

“Try us,” Max encourages him.

Eddie’s unsure eyes meet yours, hesitancy clear in their depths.

“Please,” your voice begs softly.

Eddie puffs out a defeated sigh. “Shit, okay.”

When you shuffle on his lap, intent on moving to sit in a more modest position while he tells his story, Eddie clings to you desperately. Leaning in, you kiss the place on his smooth, still-damp cheek.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whisper in his ear, ensuring that he’s the only one who hears. “I’m just gonna turn around, okay?”

He nods tightly, loosening his hold long enough for you to spin around, allowing your legs to dangle over the side of his and planting your Converse on the floor. Once you’re settled and he’s sure that you’re not going to leave his arms, he begins his tale of what happened after he left your house with Chrissy last night.

Eddie stumbles over his words several times as he recalls the horrors he witnessed, vocalizing the event far more difficult than he thought it would be. His voice begins to shake and tremble again as he relives the freaky shit with the lights and the levitation, the image of Chrissy’s unnaturally bent bones and the hollows of her eyes burnt into his mind like a nightmare that he can’t shake. He feels ridiculous and dramatic under the scrutiny of all of these eyes and it was only your soft encouragement that kept him going, his hand on your thigh keeping him grounded.

“I didn’t know what to do, so I-I… ran away. Left her there,” he admits, shame swallowing him up as a silence drifts between everyone.

Eddie finally allows his eyes to lift from the pink tendrils of your hair where they had been firmly planted throughout the retelling of his story. He comes into contact with the intent gazes of everyone in the room, disbelief clearly written on their faces. He can’t even bring himself to look at you, afraid of seeing the same in yours. Pulling away, he removes his hands from the comfort of you, distancing himself in preparation for the rejection of the truth that was surely to come.

“You all think I’m crazy,” he huffs.

Hell, if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he would think he was crazy too.

“We don’t think that, Ed–” you begin to say but he cuts you off sharply.

“Don’t bullshit me, sweetheart. I know how this sounds.”

You gape at him, his tone stinging deep. Eddie inwardly curses at himself when you slide off of his lap in exchange for the splintery wooden floor to his left. His fingers thread through yours in a silent apology as Dustin and the gang take over the conversation.

“We’ve dealt with this sort of thing before,” Dustin says, catching you both by surprise.

“Wh-what do you mean?” you stutter, still trying to wrap your head around it all.

“People say that Hawkins is cursed and they’re not wrong,” Dustin answers, searching for the right words. “There’s another… world beneath the town and sometimes it seeps into our reality.”

“You mean like ghosts?” Eddie asks.

“There are some things worse than ghosts,” Max says.

“Like what?” you ask.

“I can’t even begin to describe the shit we’ve seen. Fought,” Steve cuts in.

“If these things are back, we need to know.” Max says.

“Did you see anything?” Robin.

“Dark particles?” Max.

“Dust?” Dustin.

“No. There was nothing to see. Nothing to touch. I tried to wake her up but just… couldn’t get through to her. Some real Freddy Krueger shit. It's like she was in a trance.”

“Or under a spell…” Dustin whispers, and Eddie’s eyes dart to him.

“A curse? Vecna.”

Vecna, Vecna… where have I heard that name before, you wonder, wracking your brain for its origin.

“What’s a Vecna?” Steve asks, completely clueless.

“An undead creature with immense power. A dark wizard.”

That’s it!

“Hold up,” you interrupt, confused. “You’re telling me that a D&D big bad-- a fictional character is terrorizing Hawkins and offing teenagers?”

“Not exactly,” Dustin clarifies, “but in all the years we’ve been dealing with this alternate world, the best we’ve been able to categorize these supernatural events is through the lens of D&D.”

“So it's more of a metaphor,” you nod, understanding a little better. “Which means we still have no idea what’s really going on.”

“Well shit,” Eddie huffs in disbelief.

A heavy silence settles like a fog in the dark room as you and Eddie process everything you’ve just learned.

“So what now?” you ask, nervously gnawing on your thumb, a bad habit of yours when you’re feeling anxious.

“Eddie stays here. We all go home for the night,” Steve says, taking charge of the situation. When you start to protest, he lifts his hand, silencing you. “You’re grounded and won’t be any help if you get into more shit with your dad. It's way past these kiddie’s bedtimes anyway and there’s nothing we can do about it tonight.”

“He’s right,” Max agrees. “We still don’t know enough to do anything.”

“Should we maybe… find Nancy?” Steve asks.

“Steve, now is not the time for your sad unrequited love arc,” Robin counters.

“It's not about that,” he says defensively before they both go off into a muffled argument.

“Hate to admit that they’re right, man,” Dustin says to Eddie. “You need to sit tight.”

“No! That’s ridiculous! Eddie is innocent. It's not fai–”

“Baby,” Eddie says, his hand gently cupping your jaw and turning your face to look at him.

Dustin and Max turn their attention to the squabbling pair. They join in on ribbing Steve with his Nancy infatuation, giving you and Eddie as much privacy as they can. Eddie gives you a sad smile and you know right then and there that he’s not coming back home. Not tonight at least.

“I don’t like this,” you bite, sounding far more aggressive than necessary but damnit! This isn’t how things were supposed to go this weekend and with every step the situation only gets worse.

Eddie sighs, his foreheads pressing gently against yours.

“I don’t either,” he admits, worrying his lip between his teeth. “But they’re all right. If the ghost squad doesn’t even know what to do right now, then we need to try to be patient. If I go back tonight,“ he shakes his head, “it’ll end up with me in a cell. That won’t solve whatever the fuck’s going on and it won’t clear my name or give Chrissy any justice.”

“You really have got to stop being so reasonable,” you sigh, your mouth dropping into a frown.

Eddie huffs a humorless laugh.

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. I’m still just a lousy coward,” he jokes, though his voice is laced with self-deprecation.

“No.” You shake your head in disagreement, pressing your lips to his before he has a chance to argue back.

Eddie’s hand finds the back of your head and he holds you in place while he deepens the kiss, tasting you on his tongue and inhaling as much of you as he can to sustain himself until he gets to see you again. A throat clears behind him, taking his focus away from the comfort of your pretty lips and he sighs, burning with annoyance at Steve for interrupting. Though he knows it’s a flimsy place of blame, at best. Turns out the jerk actually was trying to help and clearly cared about you in his own way.

“We need to get back,” Harrington says. “We’ll try to come back some time tomorrow. Do you need anything?”

“Uh, yeah, more food would be great,” Eddie responds. Standing up, he offers you his hand, pulling you from the ground before he starts dusting at the back of your pants. “Rick hasn’t been around for a while so I’ve been surviving on dusty ass cans of Spaghetti-Os and stale chips,” he grimaces.

“Got it. Write that down, Henderson,” Steve says, smacking the back of his hand in a confused Dustin’s direction. “Come on, gang, let’s give these lovebirds a minute to say goodbye.” On their way out the door, Steve turns toward you, calling your name and pointing a finger in your direction. “If you’re not in the car in five minutes I’m tossing you over my shoulder and throwing you in the trunk. I’m sure your boyfriend will be all too happy to help if it means getting you home by curfew.”

You roll your eyes dismissively. Not that you didn’t appreciate your friends looking out for you, but there was too damn much testosterone bossing you around in your life.

“He’s right, you know. But I might actually make good use of that broken bottle if his hands go anywhere near your ass so we better not keep them waiting.” You shove Eddie playfully, making him laugh a real laugh and he pulls you in for a hug. “I’m sorry for getting short with you earlier,” he says, the apology slightly muffled against your neck as he places a wet kiss on the humid skin.

“I know,” you whisper, your fingers absentmindedly play with the strands of his long hair.

The sting of tears prick your eye as the fact that you only had a few more minutes together weighs heavy on the both of you while you just hold one another. The sound of a single, sharp car horn beeping is enough to light a fire under you and you pull away from Eddie with disappointment. You give him a sad, watery smile as you start to walk away, but his fingers intertwine with yours, preventing you from taking another step.

“I want to give you something before you go,” he says. You look at him in confusion but he simply pulls you back toward him. Releasing his hold on your hand, he tugs at the obsidian stone ring on his right hand, pulling it up the swollen finger before sliding it down your middle one with a smirk. “Perfect fit. Hold onto that for me, yeah?”

“Y-yeah,” you stammer, at a loss for words as the warmth of the metal radiates against your skin. Another quick honk blares from the driveway– clearly Steve was getting antsy and you weren’t too keen on making him follow through with his threat. “I guess that’s my last warning.”

“Don’t wanna keep The Hair waiting for too long,” Eddie teases. He was still crazy jealous of Steve for his role in yours and Dustin’s lives but it was obvious that the idiot cared about both of you, took both of your well-beings into consideration.

“The Hair. Please, Munson,” you roll your eyes, tugging on a long curly strand. “Have you seen yourself in a mirror?”

With a final kiss goodbye, Eddie reluctantly pushes you away, practically forcing you out the door of the boathouse even though he wants nothing more than to drag you back in here to hide out with him until this all blows over.

Once the door latches shut behind you, he makes his way over to the small window to watch you sprint up the hill toward the headlights of Steve’s car, eyes burning into the back of the vehicle until all that’s left is a trail of pitch black darkness.

SUNDAY

You barely slept, spending what was left of the night tossing and turning in your bed and anxiously twisting the new ring on your middle finger. You finally gave up sometime near dawn, unable to shake this nervous energy buzzing through your body. After getting dressed you decide to pack a quick bag for yourself, including the first aid kit that you swiped from your parents’ bathroom. There was something nagging at your gut telling you that you needed to be prepared. That sooner rather than later, something else would go awry.

I guess having your boyfriend on the run for murder and learning about a parallel universe with evil monsters would be enough to make a person paranoid.

Not wanting to waste any more time, you get through breakfast as normally and quickly as possible. Thankfully, your parents don’t force you to go to church with them every Sunday, so you didn’t have to wait too long for the house to clear out before you started raiding the pantry. You manage to scrape together a box of cereal, some bottles of Yoohoo, as well as a few bananas and a jar of peanut butter. It wasn’t ideal but you couldn’t take anything that required refrigeration considering that the power at Rick’s wasn’t on in his absence, and you didn’t want anything to spoil. So this would have to do. 

Right on time, Steve’s car pulls into your driveway and you’re out the door before he even has a chance to honk.

Eddie hears the familiar sound of gravel crunching beneath tires, the noise enough to instantly wake him from the small nap he had somehow managed to doze off for. Broken bottle still firmly in his grasp, Eddie leaps from the confines of the small boat and sprints toward the window to get a peek at who might be on the other side. Much to his paranoia, he sees no one making their way down the small hill from the direction of the house.

His heart hammers in his chest and he holds his breath to prevent the window from fogging and giving his presence away when the old door swings open. Bottle swinging to the front of his body, Eddie takes a defensive stance, ready lunge. His stomach drops to his feet in relief when you and Dustin come into view, leading the familiar group in with a few paper bags. The sight of you is more than enough to quell the nervous energy buzzing through his body.

“Order up?” Steve says, trying to lighten the mood as he holds up a six pack of beer.

Eddie actually laughs a little, forcing a smug smile on Steve’s face. It would appear these two might get along a lot better than either of them would have ever guessed.

He closes the distance between himself and the group, taking the bags from you. Guitar-calloused fingers thread through your own and Eddie gently tugs you across the room to climb into the boat. Pulling you to settle onto the bench seat with him, he gratefully digs through the bags.

Eddie rips open the bag of cereal and actually moans around the first handful of honey-sweet morsels before washing it down with a swig of Yoohoo. The rest of the group chatter quietly among themselves as Eddie fills his stomach. It's not until he downs two bottles of the chocolatey drink that anyone even broaches the inevitable conversation.

“So, good news or bad news first?” Dustin asks.

“Bad news first, always,” Eddie says around a mouthful of dry cereal.

That anxiety that had gone away with your arrival? It was back with full force, his stomach knotting up and the taste of food turning to ash in his mouth as you all inform him of the most recent news–  that the police are fully convinced he is responsible for Chrissy’s death.

“Hunt the freak, right?”

Robin shoots him a sympathetic look just as your hand falls to his knee, soothing your thumb over the exposed skin through the rip in his jeans. Though you already heard all of this on the ride over, the gravity of the situation is still difficult to swallow. Possibly even more so now that you’re with Eddie as he’s hearing it for the first time.

“So now what? How do we fix this?” you ask, nibbling your thumb to the quick.

Having known you for a while now, Eddie was able to pick up on your nervous ticks. He gently grabs your hand, pulling it away from your face to thread your fingers together and  stroke the vein on top, soothing your worry. Despite all of the cards stacking against him, he still finds the time to care for you. You fall for him even more in that moment.

“Welll,” Robin stalls, “We’re still in the…the..”

“--brainstorming phase?” Max offers.

“Brainstorming,” Steve repeats with a confident snap of his fingers.

“There’s nothing to worry about though,” Dustin reassures once he takes in the wide eyes of both you and Eddie.

They ramble on for another few minutes, spouting off something about a friend with super powers who supposedly is typically the one they heavily rely on for fighting these supernatural… whatever they are. To be perfectly honest, you were still trying to wrap your head around the fact that something otherworldly was bleeding into reality. In all of your years of reading and watching horror and sci-fi, you never in your wildest imagination thought any of it could be a reality.

Honestly, any other time you wouldn’t believe it, ever the skeptical dreamer. Were it not for Eddie’s very real fear in his retelling of what happened with the cheerleader and the confirmation from your new friends that he was, in fact, not losing his mind, you might have even laughed at the absurdity of it all.

I mean come on– alternate dimensions, monsters, and superheroes? Oh my!

So once again, the grand plan is to leave Eddie here with nothing but a restock of food, a walkie talkie, and his own lonely company while the rest of the group heads out to further investigate.

The thought of leaving him behind once more doesn’t settle well with you.

“I’m staying,” you state matter-of-factly.  “No you’re not,” Steve and Eddie say at the same time.

Your eyebrows dart to your hairline at their audacity. That they were yet again ganging up on you and trying to force your hand like you’re some delicate flower who can’t make your own decisions. It seems to be the only thing they both agree on which just pisses you off.

“I love that both of you are finally on the same page. Really, it's nice to see that my boyfriend and one of my best friends can get along after all, even if it did take a literal doomsday to make it happen. But neither of you are my keepers. I can handle myself.”

“Uh-uh,” Eddie says, “Your dad–”

“Is my problem,” you interrupt, meeting his eyes. Out of your peripheral, you see Steve starting to open his mouth and you raise your hand, halting whatever it is he’s about to say before swinging your fiery gaze in his direction. “And if you threaten to toss me in your trunk again, I’ll just come right back here the second I’m free. Even if I have to walk the whole way.”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie sighs, a hint of defeat in his voice but clearly still hoping to reason with you.

“Nope. I’ve made up my mind,” you say, crossing both arms over your chest stubbornly.

You prepare to throw your whole weight into a fight should they decide to try and follow through with the threat from last night.

“Would you talk some sense into her?” Steve gripes at Robin.

“She’s a big girl. She can make her own decisions,” your friend says with a dismissive shrug. “And maybe it wouldn’t be the worst idea for someone to stay with him?”

“Robin’s right,” Max agrees. “Neither of them have dealt with anything like this before.”

“She’s been awesome in helping us track down Eddie but she won’t be much help from here. No offense,” Dustin says quickly, swinging his suddenly terrified eyes your way, afraid that he might be next in your path of ire. “I’m sure you’re more than capable of figuring it out, it's just that we might progress a little faster without having to stop to explain everything.”

“None taken,” you reassure. “You’re right. I know next to nothing about what exactly it is that you’re looking for. I would just be dead weight there and I don’t want to hold any of you back. I’ll stay with Eddie until we know exactly what our next move is.”

With mumbled agreements, the group begin to say their goodbyes, making sure that the two of you have everything you need before leaving you behind. As Dustin pulls Eddie to the side to show him how to operate the walkie and which channel to tune into if there is an emergency, Steve quietly pulls you to the side.

“I don’t like this,” he exasperates, hands falling to his hips.

“You don’t have to like it. I appreciate the motherly concern, Steve, but I meant it when I said I can handle myself.”

“Motherly concern?” he balks, offended.

You can’t help but to smirk, amused that this is the part he decides to focus on.

“I’ll be fine, Harrington.”

“But what if the police–”

“Then we’ll handle it. You have bigger things to figure out right now. Leave the running to me and the criminal.”

His eyes narrow at your petty reuse of his comment from yesterday, and then he pulls you into a big brotherly hug, squeezing so tight that your lungs briefly seize from the pressure. “I swear to god if anything happens to you I’m gonna be pissed. Can’t lose the only other grown up friend that I have. Do you know how hard it is being a senior when most of your closest friends are actual children?”

“Yes, yes, being a role model is terrible. Poor Steve Harrington,” you pout in mock sympathy, patting his shoulder. Though you were teasing him, you squeeze him a little harder, appreciating his genuine concern and thankful to call him you friend.

Then you force him out the door with the others so they can save the town and Eddie.

[nityarawal]

6/3/2024

Love Bugs' Truth

Morning Songs

Doing Homeschool

With Taylor Swift

Apparently I'm Not

The Only One

Studying Her Lyrics

Ellen Had Her

On To Sing "Foster

The People,"

With Zac Efron

In 2012

Ellen Had Them

On

Singing

"Pumped Up Kicks,"

For Guitar Home

School

Zac Was On "Liberal 

Arts,"

Just Went To The

Opening

Valentine Weekend Was

A Lonely Affair

For Taylor And

The Singles Singing

Was Zac The Scapegoat

Professor Fairfield

Lusted

A Experiemental

Morsel On Ayuhuasca

Professor Fairfield

The Cougar

From School

A Fallen Meditation

Teacher

Was Zac The Scapegoat

For All The Public

Defenders

Like Coachella

Now

In Ohio

To Iowa

Making Billie Ellish

Sing "Lunch,"

At After Parties 

Was Josh The Scape

Goat

For All The Public

Defenders

In Ohio

Gay Secret Service

Always Chasing

You

Me

From New York

To California

Jewish Gangs

Hunting

A Director

Wants A Prank

A Writer Wants

A Kickback

What Did You Think

The Backdoor

Did Kids

Well Let's Study Bugs

Instead Of Forcing Embros

And Clean Out 

These 7000 ***Holes

In Secret Service

With Enemas

A Writer Wants 

Her Rights

Not A Plea Bargain

A Singer Wants

Her Voice

Not Brazilian

Censorship

Apologies Are In

Order

Taylor Told The

Truth,

"It's Weird

On The Ellen

Show,"

We Don't Like

Getting Groomed

Zac Tried To Tell

The Truth

Josh Did Too

My Dad Is Really

Great He Says

But Can't Elaborate

Just An Alcoholic

Recovered Artist

Sculptor

Lawyer

My Dad Is Really

Great He Says

Just Gave Him

Every Alergy

Of Court 

He Could

My Dad Is Really

Great

My Kids Repeat

After You

Really Great

So You Started

Drafting Liberal

Artists

Only To Steal Our

Kids

My Dad's Really

Great

And The Judges

Around Him

Work With Dr. 

Alan Silverman

Terrorising My Family

That's What SNL

Says About #Trump

He Stole Everything

From US

Raped Us

Drugged Us

Robbed Us

But He's Really 

Great

They Have To Say 

That

Or Abuse Worse

7000 Gay Secret

Service Hating On Us

We're They Great

Spreading Germ Warfare

Breaking Moms Hearts

Ending In Murder

James Bond

Waiting For Their Charges

8+ Years

And We Are Still

Eloning

War Almost Over

Joe Biden Declared

A Plea Bargain

For You And Israel

Is Elon Still

Really Great

Under Those Memes

And Plea Bargains

Forcing God Knows What

War Is Over

We Need Our Cyberbeasts

You Got Your

Tranny Spin Doctors

We Need Our Kids

We Need Freedom

For Our Physicists

And Husband's

We Need Our Kids

We Need Our Baby

Daddies Alive

Don't Shoot Him

In The Gut

Like The Temecula

Gangs Of Clark Legal

Gangs And

Accomplices

Got My

Neighbor Adrian

On Country Club

Don't Shoot Him

In The Balls

Don't Blame His

Son AJ

Or Impale The

Little Ones

Don't Shoot Another

Pedo

Close Them All Down

Give Them Little Pink

Smart Cars

After You Detox

Secret Service

And Retire

Bush ***Gots

Wayward Cancerous

Balls

Merci Moms

#4BillionMothersStrong 

Indeed

#4BillionMothersStrong 

#StormyStrong

Please

Make Some Noise

Ladies

Merci

Baraye

Long Live

Irany 

Peace,

Nitya Nella Davigo Azam Moezzi Huntley Rawal 

[wastelandeer]

How does Blue and Jack feel about kids? Do they like them, or just find them annoying? Are they any good with kids? Would they ever want kids of their own?

Bonus question: Tell us about their kids if they ever have any!

Finally one where Jack can be slightly more competent lol- Blue likes children and wants to be good with them, but she's one of those people that treat them like a different and perhaps frightening species. This may be due to her work- she was a glass artist (hey Tiefling fire resistance comes in handy). She kept a pretty sharp eye on kids and was very *soft voice* "Honey, honey, no..."

She never really considered having kids herself aside from in a distant 'maybe if I find the right person' sort of way, but almost never socialized outside of work so even meeting someone would've took a small miracle. And now she's dating a vampire, so.

Jack on the other hand gets along with kids pretty easily. He has no problem listening to weird kid stories, joking back at them, or pretend buying into whatever thing they're talking about. I can absolutely see him just picking a kid up and carting them around without even thinking about it, especially the Tiefling kids.

Kids for himself? Oh god no. No one deserves this cursed bloodline. He does however adopt on accident pretty much every other child he sees (especially now that he doesn't have to worry about sleep murder). He is very much 'never speak to me or my 7000 vampire children ever again'.

[ruminativerabbi]

A Kishenev Moment

Yesterday was the 85th anniversary of Kristallnacht, the Reich-wide pogrom in 1938 that signaled to the world that the Nazis were not going to settle back into being armchair anti-Semites who expressed their loathing for Jews through hate-inspired rhetoric and discriminatory legislation, but were going to morph forward into becoming brutal, barbarous killers for whom there would eventually be no bottom line at all when it came to attacking Jews or defaming Judaism. The numbers say it all. 267 synagogues were burnt to the ground in the course of that unimaginable night. Over 7000 Jewish businesses, including both family-owned shops and giant department stores, were damaged, looted, or utterly destroyed. Over thirty thousandJewish men were arrested and sent to concentration camps, the fig leaf of some sort of phony indictment accusing the incarcerated of having committed some sort of crime not even bothered with. Hundreds were murdered or prompted by the pogrom to take their own lives. The die was cast. Millennia of Jewish life in Germany and Austria were at their end. Other than for those able somehow to escape at the very last moment, there would be no future at all, not even a difficult or unpleasant one, for the Jews of the Reich.

We have not forgotten any of this. Nor has the eventual adoption of Yom Hashoah as the annual memorial day for the six million Jewish victims of Nazi anti-Semitism made it feel superfluous to mark the anniversary of Kristallnacht each November. Yom Hashoah, which has its own complicated backstory, ended up as the day on which Jewish people formally mourn for the martyrs who died al kiddush ha-shem during the Second War. But Kristallnacht has its point, its own specific contribution to make. And, indeed, for many of us, Kristallnacht represents not the final debacle, but the early-on turning point, the moment at which the anti-Semitism which underlies so much of Western civilization stepped boldly out of the closet and blatantly shed even the patina of shame that is in theory supposed to attach to race- or ethnicity-based prejudice in the sophisticated lands of our dispersion, in the enlightened West, in lands ruled (as was Germany in the 1930s) by leaders democratically elected by voters fully aware of their platform and program for the nation. There is something tragic about both Yom Hashoah and Kristallnacht, but whereas Yom Hashoah inspires regret, Kristallnacht inspires dread.

For me personally, the events of October 7 in the towns and kibbutzim on the Israeli side of the Israel-Gaza border inspires just that kind of ominous feel that Kristallnacht also awakens, that sense that a line was crossed, that the fantasy that a reasonable solution could one day yet be reached with the Hamas leadership was not only a pipedream, but a malign, dangerous one at that, an example of the kind of illusory pipedream that leads, at least eventually, to Treblinka, to the slaughter of innocents, to hell.

And yet the event in Jewish history that I keep seeing referenced with respect to the Simchat Torah pogrom is not Kristallnacht at all, but Kishenev.

Today, Kishenev (now called Chișinău) is the capital of Moldova, a landlocked Balkan nation wedged in between Romania and Ukraine, and home to almost a full third of its population. But long before Moldova was an independent nation, Kishenev was the capital of the Bessarabian Governate in the Russian Empire and home to a huge Jewish population of about 50,000 (out of a total population of 280,000). The Jews of Kishinev were neither better nor worse off than any other Jewish community in eastern Europe: they had business dealings and social dealings with their neighbors, people with whom they shared a common nationality, a common language, and a common hometown. But shortly before Easter in 1903, things began to go off the rails. There were low level anti-Semitic incidents at first, some violent and others just defamatory. But things escalated quickly and an out-and-out pogrom began on April 19 of that year. The violence was, at the time, almost unprecedented. Countless Jewish homes were broken into, plundered, and destroyed. Synagogues were demolished. Jews were openly attacked by mobs armed with pitchforks and guns; hundreds of women were raped openly in the streets. The violence went on for three days and, at the end, about 1500 homes had been destroyed, forty-nine Jewish people had been murdered, and many hundreds had been seriously wounded. The whole story is told in detail in one of the most shocking books I’ve read in a long time (which is saying a lot): Stanford University historian Steven J. Zipperstein’s Pogrom: Kishenev and the Tilt of History, published in 2018 by Liveright Books. The book, which I can recommend wholeheartedly, is well written and very thoroughly researched. Intelligent and fully forthright in its account of the terror, the book should be read—and read carefully—by every single one of the so-called academics on our nation’s campuses who are willing to be known publicly as supporters of Hamas.

It might be hard for readers familiar with the horrors of the Shoah to take a pogrom in which only forty-nine people were murdered all that seriously. (By way of comparison, the Nazis murdered about 15,000 Jews every single day from August to October in 1942.) And yet the importance of Kishenev lies not so much in its own detail, but in its aftermath because it served in its day as a wake-up call that had repercussions and echoes across the entire Jewish world. And that phenomenon too is chronicled in detail in Professor Zipperstein’s book.

The sense of powerlessness felt by Jews who had no recourse but to cower in their own cellars and hide from the miscreants, rapists, and murderers wandering the streets in search of their next victim was chronicled by many contemporary authors, but by none as successfully as Hayyim Nachman Bialik in his famous poem, Be’ir Ha-hareigah (“In the City of the Killing”), which soon became his most famous work. Others wrote in a similar vein, focusing not on the power of the crowd by on the powerlessness of their victims. And, according to Zipperstein, the combined weight of journalistic accounts, poetic responses, dramatic representations, and literary retelling led to a sea change in Jewish attitudes towards the world and the place of Jewish people in it.

And, indeed, the notion that the Jewish people could only survive in the long term in a Jewish state in the homeland of the Jewish people—the core concept of Zionism—moved quickly from an out-there kind of political theory espoused by some to the kind of basic truism that Jews the world over suddenly found themselves embracing naturally and easily. Kishenev was thus a kind of a catalyst moment, a threshold in time over which the Jewish people itself had somehow stepped…and which could not really be crossed back over again. This was a sea change in public opinion rooted in the realization that the barbarism of the Middle Ages—a time when Crusaders routinely and without fear of reprisal massacred entire Jewish communities and Inquisitors burnt at the stake any Jewish person deemed not wholeheartedly enough to have abandoned Judaism, that that level of barbarism was not a thing of the past but a thing fully of the present. And that triggered a response in the Jewish world that was, so Zipperstein writes, unprecedented.

And that brings me back to October 7, to the Simchat Torah pogrom, to Gaza. I follow the news incessantly. I suppose we all do. The story has yet to reach its conclusion, but I’m already sensing that Gaza was a kind of Kishinev moment for Jewish youth in our nation. The college campuses, once naively imagined by most (including myself) to be bastions of learning, of dispassionate scholarship, of culture, and of civilization, have shown themselves—and we are talking about the biggest and most highly-rated schools in America, these schools have shown themselves to be cesspits of anti-Semitism staffed by at least some faculty members morally depraved enough to feel that the murder, mutilation, and rape of innocents, including children, is a valid mode of political expression. But the Jewish students in those places are waking up and feeling—some, I’m sure, for the first time—the danger, the precariousness that inheres in Jewishness itself, the angst that underlies even the most confident statement of Jewish self-awareness. They too have crossed a line in the course of these last few weeks. And that, just as it was in the wake of Kishenev, will have to suffice as the silver lining in this cloud of unremitting horror stories that we have all heard and read over these last weeks.

Whether this truly will be a transformational moment for America’s Jewish youth remains to be seen. But Kishenev, which surely could have ended up as just one more pogrom on a long list of such events, somehow altered something in the DNA of the Jewish world. Nothing was the same afterwards. And the rise of Nazism just a few decades later only made even more evident the fact that, in the end, hiding from the hooligans and hoping that someone else steps forward to save their potential victims is not a cogent plan forward. Not for Jews, certainly. But also not for anybody.

Professor Zipperstein’s book is a shocking, bracing, very intelligent study of a single moment in Jewish history, but one that somehow nonetheless managed to divide what came before from all that came after. You won’t enjoy the book. No normal person could. But you will learn a lot from it, as I did. For those struggling to understand Gaza in the context of Jewish history, I recommend it wholeheartedly.

[dailyunsolvedmysteries]

Weird Facts You Won't Believe Are True

There's a company that turns dead bodies into an ocean reef.

 Spider webs were used as bandages in ancient times.

The inventor of the Pringles can is now buried in one.

A fortune cookie company once foretold the lottery, resulting in 110 winners.

A London tomb is supposedly a time machine or teleportation chamber.

Almost 163,000 pints of Guinness are wasted in facial hair each year.

Bubble wrap was originally intended to be wallpaper.

20% of coffee mugs contain faecal matter.

A jar of peanut butter could contain up to 5 rodent hairs

Your cellphone is more disgusting than a public toilet. Your phone has 10 times more bacteria on it than the average public restroom.

 There might be a haunted Russian radio station. UVB-76 is a low-frequency radio station that has been broadcasting since 1982. No one knows where the broadcast is originating. It’s mostly just a buzzing noise with an occasional Russian voice transmission.

When a person dies, their sense of hearing is the last to go.

There is such a thing as homicidal sleepwalking. It’s also called homicidal somnambulism, or sleepwalking murder. In 2005, Jules Lowe was acquitted of murder after killing his father because he was sleepwalking during the crime.

Restaurant ice machines are almost never cleaned

 Up  to 10 insects and 35 fruit fly eggs are allowed per 8 ounces of raisins

Men who are hanged get a death erection, known as rigor erectus.

More than 7000 people die annually due to the doctor's bad handwriting.