#and her “not understanding her dad’s plight” is what makes her that way

[syrma-sensei]

Somewhere In Your Heart, Ch.9: Never Say Goodbye.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Fem!reader.

Rating: Explicit.

Warnings: prostitution, misogyny, power abuse, smut.

Word Count: 2.8k.

Summary: Soldier boy lives through the ennui of his peak, but everything is about to change when he has a shift in his heart.

“You made Nancy unhappy. ”Legend's voice drips with exaperation.

Ben clicks his tongue. Like he gives a shit about Nancy's ‘Just Say No’ crap. He still can't believe he did that PSA; he sounded like a complete jackass.

“I can teach little ol’ Donny some tricks to make her happy.” Ben grins, utterly unrepentant.

Legend groans, rubbing his temple, “Soldier Boy, this is serious.”

“Oh, I am serious.” He drawls, smirking “Dead serious.”

Legend sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. Soldier Boy doesn't seem to understand the plight he is in. He was caught red-handed consuming drugs, and with his new girlfriend no less. Someone has to take the blame, and certainly, it's not going to be Soldier Boy. America's golden boy. That's why they are in the Crisis Management conference room.

“Benjamin’s and Ms. (Y/N)’s story has been a tabloid goldmine all this way long,” Stan Edgar enunciates after a pause, “We intend to keep it that way.” He juts a brow at Soldier Boy. “The kind-hearted Soldier Boy fell for the wrong woman, who led him astray from the righteous path. Luckily, she showed her true colours. Thanks to Vought, Soldier Boy sees the light and corrects his path.”

Legend catches the way Ben’s jaw tightens, his teeth grinding in frustration.

“There’s a mission Nicaragua.” Edgar continues smoothly, “The government is warming up to the idea of supes in the military. This is your chance to reclaim sparkles of glory, Benjamin.”

Legend gulps as his eyes flit between Edgar and Soldier Boy. Sometimes, he envies Edgar for his steel aplomb. He isn't afraid of them, not by any chance. Ben, the Soldier Boy, is sitting there like a delinquent son who's been expelled from school for misbehaviour while Edgar sounds like the practical dad even though he is way younger than Ben. He doesn't show any emotion in his voice.

Soldier Boy might be America’s hero, but here, in this room, he was just another pawn on Edgar’s board.

Ben finally speaks, his voice is tight and low, “What happens to her?”

Legend detects a slight quiver in Ben's voice.

“I was informed that Ms. (Y/N) has chosen her pimp to return to.” Edgar clicks his tongue in disapproval, “Pity. And here she had you.”

Ben's world tilts, then glimmer with indignation. I hate you. Your words ring in his ears. You have my brother's blood on your hands.

But still, he can't stomach the idea you're back in thrall to that asshole after what he did to you. Fury coils in his gut, disgust crawling up his throat like bile at the thought of him pimping you out for his clients. He curls his fists and grinds his jaws.

Edgar continues to push Ben's buttons, “I have to admit, I was surprised. After all, most women would kill to be where she was—on your arm.” He leans back, watching Ben. “And yet, she chose her abusive pimp over you.”

Ben’s eyes narrow. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t flinch. His silence is a warning, a stark contrast to the fire burning just beneath the surface. He doesn’t react to Edgar’s words—he simply absorbs them like the way he learnt to absorb his father's words before Edgar, stone-faced

After what felt like an eternity, Ben exits the Crises Management conference room, his mind a haze of rage. He heads to his team's quarters, and it's Tommy who comes into his sight.

“Hey, Soldier Boy—”

The kid couldn't even continue his sentence as Ben clocks him in the face.

The hit sends Tommy sprawling and bellowing in pain, but Ben doesn't stop, he hits him again and again. I hate you. Your words buzz again in his ear, spurring him on. His fists are a blur of rage, pounding on Tommy's face and ribs. Tessa and Noir are trying to pull him off, but nothing can drown out Edgar's voice or stop the primal urge to tear something apart. Nothing can quench the fire inside him but the sickening crack of Tommy's bones beneath his fists. He's the one who killed your brother not him

“Fuck! Fuck!” Tommy squawks in pain.

“Stop, Ben, please!” Tessa implores for her twin brother's life, her hands try to grip his arms.

When Ben stops, all he can see is bruises, blood, and tears.

The faint smoke hazes through in the dimly-lit bar. The air is thick with whiskey and regret. You sway on the podium, voice weaving into  the soft hum of the saxophone and piano behind you; the music undulates through the air like a spring breeze. And the weight in your chest is anything but light.

From his barstool, Jack has his eyes on you. You try not to meet his gaze, shooting a smile at one of the audience who returns it with one of his own.

You keep your focus forward, eyes fixed on the near wall, trying to avoid Jack's predatory gaze. His stare cuts through the dim lighting, sharp, unrelenting. The weight of his gaze makes your stomach twist, and you try to push the nausea down.

After the performance, you have a client. He'll be the first after what happened with Ben. To your surprise, not much has happened since then. Of course, Jack gloated over the fact you had no place to return but to him, other than that, everything has been normal except for the ache in your heart.

You thought once this was sorted out, you'd have peace. But what happened was far from it. You cry yourself to sleep every night, lamenting the love that still keeps your heart beating. You still wonder what would've happened if you bit the bullet and accepted your brother's death as collateral damage and moved on. But you made your choice, and now you'll have to live with the consequences. And here you are again, an imperious man's puppet.

You're not a glutton for punishment, yet here you are, back in his grasp; you didn't know where else to go when your pictures deluged the news. The scandalous woman who made a good man go wrong. You scoff, if only they know.

You find solace in performing. Putting your emotions in your voice while entertaining your crowds. You reminisce about those short days when you sang alongside Ben, when you both became all the rage months ago. Sometimes it feels like it's been a thousand years, sometimes it feels like it was only yesterday. And sometimes you think it all was a feverish dream you just woke up from.

So, you sing. It's the only thing that belongs to you. You close your eyes as you croon, fighting the burning tears that threaten to well up. When you open them you see him standing at the bar entrance. Your body stills for a mere second which is enough for Jack to sense there's something wrong. He cranes his neck and sees him too, which ascertains you the man standing there is actually Ben.

Dressed as a civilian, Ben makes a beeline to one of the vacant tables without a fuss. You wonder what he wants. You continue to sing, your eyes lingering on him, while your heart lurches into your throat.

Luckily, it's the final verse of your song, and when you finish, the small crowd claps their hands, and one of the audience whistles. You give a swift nod before you climb down the stage, scurrying to the powder room backstage.

Your fingers curl around the precipice of the sink. You work a breath in and out but to no avail. Your heart is pacing up by each moment.

“(Y/N)?” You hear Jack's voice after a faint knock.

“Yes?” You hoarse.

“The client is here.”

You feel your heart skip a bit. No, absolutely not. You're not having sex with a stranger while the love of your life is out there. You open the door, and you're face to face with Jack.

“No.” You whisper.

Jack squints his foxy eyes, “What do you mean ‘no’?”

“I’m not sleeping with anyone tonight.” You assert despite the askance in your voice.

Jack blows hot air through his nostrils and feigns a cajoling smile, “What happened, sweetheart? Did seeing him give a misleading idea?”

You grit your teeth, refusing to answer.

“Oh…” Jack drawls, tipping your chin up with his forefinger, “You think he loves you and he's here to take you to your happily-ever-after?” You gaze at him, lips pursed into a thin line, “Come now, do you actually believe that?”

You yank your face away from his hand, hissing, “Fuck you.”

Jack slaps you and the world spins around you. A sharp sting sprouts in your cheek, heat searing your skin. Before you can catch your breath, his hand clamps around your throat. “You think you have a say in this, you filthy little slut?!”

You fight back, gripping at his arms to create an airway for your lungs. “Get off me!”

“He doesn't love you, he only sees you as a bag of meat with pretty holes for him to fill up. Nobody loves a common whore like you—”

You give up on moving his hand away from your neck, you grope for anything next to you and you succeed to grab a wine bottle and smash it on Jack's temple.

“Fuck!” He holds his head in his hands and you gasp for air, his hair is cloyed with wine.

You rush to the door only to meet Ben himself standing there. “That’s my girl.”

And you throw yourself in his arms. Ben holds close to his chest, swiftly setting you behind his back, using his body as a protective shield between you and Jack.

Ben strides towards Jack and lands a brutal punch to his face, deposing him onto the floor. The sickening crack of bone echoes through the room. Jack barely has time to react before Ben's fists come down again—hard and ruthless. His growls fill the air, his knuckles sinking deeper into flesh and bones. By the time he stops, Jack's face is nothing but a pulp of blood and brains. You step forwards, looking down at the mangled mess, and spit on what's left of him.

“See you in hell, asshole.”

Ben takes you to one of his many properties, a safe house; a serene flat in New York. Once in, he wraps a blanket around you and holds you close to his body, nevertheless, you're still shivering.

Ben’s touch is firm, grounding, though he’s never been the comforting type. He doesn’t whisper reassurances or try to coax words from you. Instead, he lets his warmth do the talking, his strong arms encircling you like a shield against the world.

On the other hand, your body is still shuddering from the shock and not from fear. It keeps playing in your head, the raw brutality Ben killed Jack with.

You should feel guilty that a man is dead because of you, but you don't. In fact, a strange sense of tranquility plunges your soul. Now, you're free. And it's thanks to the man whose arms encircle you with the utmost tenderness.

Ben shifts beneath you and hunches forward to the coffee table, grabbing the neck of the whisky decanter and pouring you a glass.

You shake your head at first.

“It’s good for you.” He says softly and you take it. Then he pours himself a glass as well.

He's right, the burning sensation in your throat eases the tension in your body. You gulp the whole drink in. Ben chuckles. You manage a small smile.

“Why'd you come back to him, baby?” He murmurs gently, his hand goes through your hair. His touch is placating.

“I didn't have anywhere else to go…”

His jaws tighten, and you shiver.

“He didn't force anyone on you, did he?” He asks gingerly.

You shake your head, “No. Tonight would’ve been the first after what…” You pause, “After what happened.”

“Good,” He takes a triumphant sip from his drink, “No man’s gonna put a finger on you while I breathe. I promised you, didn't I?”

Your lips curl up into a small smile, “You did.”

He smiles back, then guzzles his drink down as if he's readying himself to say something.

“For what it's worth, (Y/N)...” He grumbles, looking away, “I’m sorry you had to lose your brother. There's no way to mince words. I made that call and I don't regret it, I was doing my job.” He looks back at you, and your smile quivers. He sounds hesitant as if he's trying to convince himself as much as he's trying to convince you, “I just hope that you'd find it somewhere in your heart to forgive me one day…”

Tears well up in your eyes. He's asking a lot from you, but you’re willing to forgive him, even as your heart lurches against your better judgment. The wound is still raw, but something in his voice—something almost vulnerable—makes you want to let go. He killed your brother, but he also set you free. He made up for what he did. 

You nod, tears streaming down your face as you choke out, “I forgive you, Ben… I forgive you from the bottom of my heart.”

He gives you a soft, almost pained smile, “Thank you, baby, thank you.” Then he leans in and captures your lips in a kiss—gentle at first, almost hesitant, before deepening into something hungrier. Then your tongue encourages him into more passion.

You moan softly into his lips. The breathy sounds only stoke the curling fire in your belly. Ben's big hands curl around your hips to hoist you up in his arms. You snuggle into his chest as he carries you to the master bedroom where he lays you on the king-size bed.

He takes his sweet time with you, shedding you layer by layer as if unwrapping a precious present. His lips trail searing kisses across your skin, each one is a silent vow.

Your hands grip on his shoulders as he enters you. Sweet moans erupt from your lips as he thrusts into you with a deep and firm rhythm. You cry out his name in your throes of pleasure. And he roars in your ears as he becomes undone.

Hours slip by as you both lose yourselves in each other, time becoming irrelevant. You make love together again and again, each moment blurring into the next until exhaustion finally sets in.

Afterwards, Ben sweeps his arm around you, pulling you closer to his chest. You kiss his collarbone and snuggle closer to his body, feeling exactly where you belong. You both fall silent, savouring the complacent moments together.

“What’d they do to Lana, I'm curious.” You ask.

Ben snickers, “To hell with her and Vought.”

You giggles, your fingers twiddling with his faint chest hair. 

“I’m retiring.” He says and you flinch.

You flinch, “W-What?”

“There’s this job in Nicaragua, I'll get it over with then I'll fuck them over. I'm done with the supe business.”

You blink, staring at him as the weight of his words settles in. You don’t know whether to believe him or not, but the look in his eyes says he is serious.

“Then what?” You utter, your voice barely above a whisper, fearing what he's going to say. Is he abandoning you? Is he leaving you?

“Then I settle down… with you if you'll have me.” He shoots you a charming grin.

Your breath catches in your throat. The weight of his words sinks in, melting away the last traces of fear in your chest. He’s serious.

A slow, genuine smile spreads across your lips. “Of course, I'll have you… my love.”

The two of you spend the next two weeks together, away from everywhere and everyone. Ben takes a leave from Vought before his mission to Nicaragua, and the days pass by in a feverish dream. It’s the best time of your life. Sex, food, his company. Lazy mornings tangled in bedsheets, whispered conversations over whiskey at night, and more sex. Ben has a voracious appetite, and your stamina is nowhere near his, but you don’t mind. If anything, you crave him just as much.

The day before he sets off, he leaves you with a bag full of cash. And ‘some cash’ in Ben's perception is a lot—more than enough to last you a decade. You refuse, but he insists.

“I want my girl pampered while I'm gone.”

He also urges you to get out of town for the time being. “Lay low, try to avoid Vought and the press. It'll take them time to forget, but they'll forget eventually.”

You fight the urge to cry when he stands at the door, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Your home feels empty already.

He steps closer, cupping your face. His thumbs brush away the tears welling in your eyes. “Don’t get all weepy on me, baby… I'll be back before you know it.” He kisses you—slow and deep, his lips lingering on yours.

You want to believe it, but why does it feel like goodbye?

You wait for him, but the news arrives first. Ben, Soldier Boy, the hero of heroes, is dead.

🦅 Previous chapter: Broken Hearts.

🦅 Next chapter: Coming soon.

🦅 Somewhere In Your Heart Masterlist.

🦅 Soldier Boy Masterlist.

Taglist: @thebiggerbear, @zepskies, @deanbrainrotwritings, @deansbbyx, @deans-spinster-witch

@venus-haze, @kaleldobrev, @k-slla, @ketchupjasmin, @demodemo909

@mystic-mara, @jqtaro, @pepsicolacoochie, @bitchykittenconnoisseur, @prurose

@leavli, @robertthehoover, @soldiergrimes, @vanessa-boo, @uddiifiigj

@ratkidcalledallie...

[trashogram]

Ugh

[ambrossart]

Out of the Loop

summary: eddie went home with someone after prom, and gareth is determined to figure out who it was.

pairing: eddie munson x dwm!reader word count: 11k warnings: language, new relationship, eddie's girlfriend is gareth's arch nemesis, silly childhood rivalries, eddie being happy and stupidly in love, jason being an overprotective ass, chrissy being an adorable little cupcake, the reader is chrissy's best friend, the unnamed freak is named grant in this series

series masterpost | series playlist | fanfiction masterlist

On Monday morning, Gareth peddled to school like a man on a mission.

Nothing was getting in his way today, not his mother, who had accidentally washed his Hellfire Club shirt with all his little sister’s dance clothes,

“You know what, honey, I think it looks better this way…”

not his sister, who had been hogging the bathroom all morning because she couldn’t get her hair right,

“Look, you don’t understand the pressure I’m under right now. Becca Singer is finalizing her birthday party guest list today. I have to look my best if I wanna make the cut.”

not the weatherman, who was painfully misinformed when he called for clear, sunny skies today…

and certainly not the piece of crap Chevy that just cut him off in the middle of the crosswalk.

Gareth swerved out of the way and kept on peddling. The rain pelted his face in a spray of ice-cold bullets.

Behind him, the driver yelled, “Hey, watch where you’re going, you little shit!”  

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Because Gareth was sitting on a goldmine of information right now. It was truly the scoop of the century. Eddie Munson—that’s right, Eddie “the Freak” Munson—had gone home with somebody after the senior prom.

Who was this mysterious (not to mention incredibly lucky) woman? A curious cheerleader desperate to defy her clique? A rich girl trying to piss off her dad? A shy bookworm who wanted to act out the plot of her favorite romance novel? Who? Who? Gareth’s head was spinning! The question hungrily devoured the rest of his weekend (something Gareth wasn’t too proud to admit, of course, but hey, Sundays were always uneventful days for him). He had to get to school quickly and consult his most trusted sources.

He found Jeff and Grant sitting at their usual table in the cafeteria. Grant was eating the school’s hot breakfast while Jeff sat with his head in his hands, lamenting the sorry state of his love life.

“Tara’s still not talking to me. I’m pretty sure she’s gonna dump me for Patrick McKinney.”

Grant put down his fork. “Wait, you two were dating?”

“No…” Jeff heaved a quiet sigh. “But if we were, she’d definitely dump me for Patrick.”

Grant frowned, sympathetic yet envious of his friend’s plight. “Man, I wish Meg would stop talking to me. She had me on the phone all night yesterday. I think she wants me to be her boyfriend or something.” Grant cringed at the thought. He didn’t have the strength to put up with her. He’d barely survived prom. 

“You don’t like her?” Jeff asked.

“Not really,” Grant answered. “I mean, yeah, she’s pretty and all, but as soon as she starts talking—”

Gareth slammed a wrinkled piece of notebook paper onto the table. The loud bang echoed through the entire cafeteria, making a few students gasp and flinch in their chairs. Jeff and Grant didn’t move in the slightest. This was typical Monday morning behavior for Gareth.

“What’s with the pink shirt?” Grant asked, unfazed. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Gareth said. They had more pressing matters to discuss. He sat down and folded his hands in front of him, his blue eyes clear and focused. He wasted no time getting straight to the point: “Who’d Eddie go home with after prom?”

Jeff and Grant exchanged a subtle, secret glance.

“How do you know Eddie went home with someone after prom?” Jeff asked.

“Because I called him that night.”

“Why’d you call him?”

“Because I’m a good friend, unlike some people.” Nobody had called him asking how his night went. Gareth sat home alone on Saturday night, eating popcorn and watching old sci-fi movies in his basement, while the rest of his friends had a blast at prom. It wasn’t fair. “I wanted to check in on him because I figured he might be a little depressed after getting rejected by Chrissy. Because let’s be honest here, there was no way that Chrissy was ever gonna dance with him. You all agree with me, right? I’m not just being a dick here. Like, yeah, I know Eddie’s riding high right now because he thinks this year is his year and everything, but… yeah, he was aiming a bit too high with that goal.” 

“Can you get to the point, please?” Grant said. “My breakfast is getting cold.” 

“Well, multitask, man!” Gareth grabbed Grant’s fork and threw it back onto his tray. “What, you can’t listen and eat at the same time?”

Grant rolled his eyes and went back to his breakfast. Gareth carried on with his story:

“So anyway, when I called him on Saturday, I expected him to sound all mopey and depressed, but he wasn’t. Yeah, Eddie wasn’t depressed at all. In fact, he sounded oddly… happy, but also a little bit distracted. You guys see where I’m going with this, right?”

“I hate that I do,” Grant said, struggling to enjoy his food.

“Well, that’s when I started getting suspicious. See, I could tell I didn’t have his full attention, and that’s just so unlike Eddie because he’s normally really good at maintaining proper phone etiquette. Weird, right? So then I got curious and I started listening, and… and I can’t be sure, but I think I heard a girl talking in the background.”

“Maybe it was just the TV,” Grant said.

Gareth shook his head. “No way… I know the difference between a TV voice and a live human voice. Someone was definitely with him.”

“Well, did you recognize the voice?” Jeff asked.

“No, I couldn’t hear well enough.”

Grant’s eyes narrowed. “And yet you’re sure it wasn’t the TV…”

“Oh come on, it wasn’t the TV, you guys. Wake up and smell the coffee! Eddie brought a girl to his house. He brought a girl to his house. She was with him in the room while he was on the phone with me. I could hear her talking. Then Eddie started acting really weird, said he had to go, and rushed me off the phone.”

“Gross,” Grant muttered, sickened. “Yeah, these are details I did not need.” 

Gareth’s mouth fell open in a silent gasp. “Wait, do you guys think he slept with her?” and that was more than Jeff could handle.

He buried his face in his hands and said, “Please stop. I don’t wanna go to class with these images in my head.”

Grant shrugged. “Maybe it was just a one-night stand.”

Jeff threw him a sharp, side-eyed glare. 

“Just saying,” Grant finished, smirking.

“No, I seriously doubt it,” Gareth went on, completely unaware. “Eddie’s not really a one-night stand kinda guy… not by choice, anyway. No, I think this might be the real deal, you guys, ‘cause listen to this: I went to go see him yesterday. Eddie wasn’t home.”

“So?”

“So I think he was with her. I called him last night and asked him where he was all day. He said he was out running errands.” Gareth scrunched up his face at that, doubtful. “Since when does Eddie run errands? So I said, ‘What sort of errands were you running?’ He said he had to swing by the drugstore. I said, ‘Well, what did you need at the drugstore?’ but he wouldn’t answer that. Yeah, he was being awfully mum.”

“Mum?” Jeff repeated to himself, mystified by his friend’s bizarre word choice.

Grant said, “He was probably annoyed that you were digging around in his business. I know I would be.”

“Oh yeah, he was definitely getting annoyed,” Gareth said. “Then he cut the conversation short and told me he was stepping out for the night. That’s when I knew this was serious. Eddie doesn’t just ‘step out’ on a Sunday night. He hardly goes out any night. If he’s not with us, he’s sitting at home and playing songs on his guitar. Yeah, he was definitely with her last night.”

Grant sighed, hoping they’d finally reached the end of this long-winded story. “Well, I guess you cracked the case then, Gareth.”

“But that’s just it, I haven’t!” Gareth said. Grant let out an exhausted moan. “I still don’t know who this girl is. You guys swear you didn’t see Eddie go home with anybody after prom?”

Another secret glance.

“Nope,” Jeff said. “I didn’t see him go home with anyone that night.”

Gareth nodded, disappointed but not yet defeated. “Yeah, I thought you might say that. That’s why I made this.”

He gestured toward the piece of paper on the table. Jeff picked it up and read it over. Then he passed it to Grant so he could do the same.

“Okay, what exactly am I looking at here?” Grant asked.

“It’s a list of suspects,” Gareth said, a proud smile on his face. “Yeah, last night I compiled a list of every girl I’ve ever seen Eddie interact with at school, and then this morning I whittled that list down to what I think are the most likely suspects.”

“Not a very long list,” Jeff said.

“Really?” said Grant. “I was gonna say it’s too long.” 

They shared a little chuckle over that. Gareth glowered at them, unamused. He didn’t appreciate them making little jabs about their Dungeon Master’s love life, stagnant as it was.

“You know,” Grant began with ominous deliberation, “I can’t help but notice there’s a name missing from this list.”

Gareth's head snapped back in surprise. “Who?”

“You know who,” Grant said. Beside him, Jeff was holding in a grin.

A disturbing chill crept up Gareth's spine. Then—

BAM!

Your name cracked down from above like a fiendish lightning bolt, striking Gareth and making all the little hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. For a second, he could see your name so clearly. It loomed before him, ugly and terrible, festering with pus and crawling with maggots, getting pecked savagely by vultures and other scavengers. It made him retch with disgust.

“Oh, very funny…”

“Hey, I’m just saying,” Grant said, “there’s no denying that she’s a likely suspect.” 

“In fact,” Jeff continued, “some might say she’s the most likely suspect.” 

“Yeah, maybe back in middle school,” Gareth said, “but Eddie hasn’t so much as looked at her in years.”

Except for that one time, he thought, remembering the mournful look on his friend’s face that day.

They were all eating lunch when your laughter suddenly sprang up from the other side of the cafeteria, obnoxious and shrill. Eddie glanced your way and his eyes darkened with such hollow sadness. It was as if someone had died.

But that didn’t mean anything, Gareth decided, so he shoved the memory away.

“All right, look, I’ll admit we lost him briefly for that one summer. I dunno how she did it, but somehow she got her claws in him real deep and he was completely under her spell. I won’t deny that. But then Eddie woke up and saw her for what she really is—an ugly green hag! At first, she appears as this beautiful, enchanting woman, but underneath that guise, she’s a wretched old witch who thrives on torment. Yeah, Eddie got over her a long time ago,” and Gareth refused to waste another thought on it.

He snatched the paper from Grant and laid it out in front of him. “Now, here’s what I’m thinking: if we split this up among the three of us, we can get through this list by lunch and then confront Eddie with our findings.”

“Yeah, we’re not doing that,” Grant said.

Gareth frowned. “Why not?”

“Because we already know who it is.”

Gareth’s eyes widened in surprised anger. “I KNEW IT! I FUCKING KNEW IT! I knew you two were messing with me this whole time. Sitting there with your smug little faces. Making your little jokes. You know what, screw you guys, I don’t even want your help anymore.”

He stuffed the paper back into his bag, climbed to his feet, and stomped off.

Over his shoulder, Jeff said, “Shoulda gone to prom, man.”

Gareth paused, dejected. “Well, no one would go with me…” He pushed through the double doors and was gone.

Afterward, Grant picked up his milk carton and took a few slow slips.

“You know what,” he said thoughtfully, “Gareth should’ve asked Y/N to prom.”

Jeff chuckled to himself. “Well, she did need a date… Shit, should we have just told him?”

“No,” Grant said. “No, this is something Gareth needs to see with his own eyes.”

Now Gareth, his resolve reignited and burning brighter than ever, was prowling the senior locker area with his suspect list in hand. 

Let them keep their secrets, he thought. I don’t need their help. A lot of help they would’ve been, anyway. Yeah, I can solve this mystery all on my own.

And he would. 

Gareth was a fantastic investigator, you see. He could win a game of Guess Who? in less than five turns and had a lifetime record of fifty-three wins and only fifteen losses (such losses were unavoidable when you drew an easily guessable character like Anita. Ugh, Anita… with those rosy cheeks and annoying blonde pigtails. His little sister beat him in only two moves after that unlucky draw). Now Gareth would apply those same deductive reasoning skills to this. Ask careful, complex questions. Gather information. Cross those ladies off one by one.

There was only one problem: the girls at Hawkins High weren’t exactly forthcoming about their personal lives, especially when it involved Eddie Munson. In fact, most girls denied ever having spoken to the guy. 

Claire Dunnock, the most recent inductee into the popular clique, was being especially difficult.

Her blue eyes shifted back and forth anxiously. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, and then leaned forward to make sure none of her new friends were eavesdropping. Claire had to be very careful. One misstep and she would slide all the way back down the social ladder. She couldn’t afford to let that happen.

Gareth sensed her unease. “Hey, relax,” he told her, “I’m not here to ruin your reputation, okay? This conversation stays between us. You have my word.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Claire said. “I wouldn’t be caught dead with that freak.”

“Hey, that freak is my best friend,” Gareth said. “And you and I both know that’s not true, Claire. I saw you get into his van that one—”

Claire seized him by the arm and hissed, “Shut up!” Her eyes blazed with fearful, self-protective rage. “Look, that was a year ago, okay? I was a stupid junior who didn’t know any better. Eddie and I had a class together. I guess I got a little curious, but that’s it. We hung out once and I never spoke to him again.” Loosening her grip, she said, “Besides, he was nothing but a big disappointment, anyway.”

Anger flared in Gareth’s chest. “All right, that's it. I’m not gonna stand here and listen to you slander my friend.” 

“It’s not slander if it’s true,” Claire said. 

Gareth didn’t know how to respond to that.

“Look, just answer my question, okay? Did you go home with Eddie after prom or not?”

“Of course not,” Claire answered, practically cackling at the thought. 

(Why were high school girls so needlessly cruel?)

“I went to prom with my boyfriend. I was with him all night. Ask anyone.” Claire swung her locker door closed, put her hand on her hip, and raised her eyebrows impatiently. “Are we done now?” She walked off to join the rest of her friends. 

Gareth glared at her back, his insides boiling with indignation and righteous fury.

You got curious and Eddie got his heart broken. Again.

He crossed out Claire’s name with his pen. 

Two suspects down. Eight more to go.

He tucked his pen behind his ear, turned, and suddenly the hallway froze over!

Okay, that didn’t actually happen, but a bitter wind did blow. Gareth felt it on his face as soon as he saw you step out from around the corner. 

Coincidence? 

Doubtful.

You were wearing blue jeans and a Fleetwood Mac shirt. Yeah, you would like Fleetwood Mac, Gareth thought, scoffing. As usual, you were walking side by side with Chrissy Cunningham, your best friend since elementary school. She was smiling and laughing at one of your jokes. Laughing out of politeness, probably. Why you two were friends, Gareth would never know. Chrissy was sweet like cotton candy and you were so… so…

(evil, pure evil)

rotten to the core, like moldy fruit.

“I swear,” you said with a groan, “it’ll be weeks before your mom lets me into the house again. God, she’s such a prude. How was I supposed to know she was gonna invite the whole family over for Sunday brunch? At least I was dressed for the occasion.”

Chrissy looked at you in baffled amusement. “You were still wearing your prom dress.”

“And it was a very nice prom dress. Your grandma even complimented it. She said it made me look like Madonna.” You weren’t too thrilled about that comparison, but who were you to pass up a free compliment? “Now your mom, on the other hand… man, if looks could kill… I probably would’ve choked on one of those blueberry scones she was serving, which were a tad overbaked if I’m being honest.”

Chrissy went to her locker and fiddled with the padlock for a second before opening it. You stood patiently beside her, the wall clock barely within view. 

It was a quarter past eight, you noted with a frown. Was Eddie here already or…? 

While hanging up her pink backpack, Chrissy said, “Yeah, she definitely had some colorful words to describe you last night.” 

You turned your attention back to her. “Your mom called me a slut, didn’t she?”

Chrissy didn’t answer at first. She was busy unloading her homework. While she was doing that, one of her fellow cheerleaders snuck up behind her, tapped her on the shoulder, and gave a cheerful, heartfelt hello. Chrissy hugged her and asked how her weekend was. The two chatted casually for a minute and then the girl went on her way. Never so much as glanced at you. 

“Umm, I believe she used the word harlot,” Chrissy said to you afterward. 

“Oh, she got biblical, huh?” Great, you thought, as if that woman didn’t despise you enough already. “You know, I don’t understand your mom. First I’m too fat to be your friend. Now I’m too much of a slut. That lady needs to pick a lane and stay in it… and then drive herself right off a cliff.”  

Chrissy threw you a friendly glare.

“Just kidding,” you said. “You know I love your mom. She keeps me grounded. Without her, I might develop a healthy self-esteem, and we all know how dangerous that is. Yeah, that might lead to confidence and success… perhaps even lifelong happiness.” 

Ignoring you (or pretending to), Chrissy started digging through her backpack again. “Dammit,” she said under her breath, “I think I left my pencil case at home.” 

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Jason has a pencil for you.” You smiled inwardly—a willful, wicked smile. “Then again…”  

Chrissy pushed her locker closed, grabbed both your hands, backed you up against the lockers, and brought her face really close to yours. “Shut up,” she whispered in half-hearted anger, a rosy blush blooming on the apples of her cheeks. 

You took one look at her and busted out laughing. Chrissy started laughing, too. 

“I hate you so much,” she said, and released you. 

“I know,” you replied affectionately. “But see, this is why the whole situation with your mom is so funny to me. I’m the one who’s still a virgin, yet somehow it’s me who gets labeled the…” 

You spotted a familiar face down the hall. 

“Gareth?” You leaned toward him, squinting. “What are you doing in the senior locker area?”

The sound of your voice made him flinch. “Nothing,” he said, acting strangely defensive for some reason.

That’s when you noticed the piece of paper in his hand. You gestured toward it with your chin and said, “What’s that you got there? Is that a love letter? You finally asking someone out on a date? Will you go out with me? Check yes or no. Who’s the lucky lady? Wait, aren’t you a little young to be dating?”

Gareth hid the paper behind his back and glared at you. “We’re the same age.” 

“And yet I’m a senior and you’re a junior. Hmm, how did that happen?” You tipped your head and smiled at him. “You’ve got company, by the way.” 

“Huh?” Gareth stepped back and—

A hand landed on his shoulder, closed around his flannel shirt, and spun him around. Gareth jumped back, swallowing a scream. He was now standing nose to chest with Ben Jabruski, outside linebacker and two-time defensive player of the year. Eric Kordell stood beside him, smaller but no less intimidating. His brown eyes gleamed with feral, territorial aggression. 

“Get outta here, freak,” Eric said. 

Gareth squared up to him, unafraid. “Last time I checked this was a free country.” He wrenched his shirt out of Ben’s grip, careful not to tear his favorite flannel. It was a Christmas gift from his mother. 

While he was distracted, Eric reached out and ripped the paper out of Gareth’s hand. 

“Hey, give that back!” 

“What’s this?” Eric asked. He opened the paper and studied it for a minute. His expression went from amused to curious to downright furious. He crushed the list in his fist. “Why’s my girlfriend on here?” 

“Oh…” Panic shot up Gareth’s spine. He took a step back and let loose a nervous chuckle. “Oh, you must be Claire’s boyfriend. You know, I heard you two had a lovely time at prom.” 

He turned on his heel and took off running down the hallway. 

“Bye, Gareth!” you said, fluttering your fingers as he passed. Then you looked back at Chrissy with a smile. “God, I love that kid…”

You went to your locker after that, ignoring all the busy little voices, the occasional odd glance and stifled giggle you received from the other students. Chrissy followed with her first-period textbook cradled in her arms. 

“Just ignore them,” she told you. 

“I already am,” you said… but then you saw Sarah, Sally, and Stacy huddled around Stacy’s locker. Talking about their hair. Talking about their clothes. Stirring their black cauldron of boiling bones and animal guts. Sarah looked at you, whispered something to Sally, who passed the same message on to Stacy, and all three of them tittered gleefully at your expense. 

“Just ignore them,” Chrissy said.

“I will,” you said, but first—

You whipped around and burst out: “So which one of you got knocked up after prom? My money’s on you, Stacy.” 

Chrissy, dismayed but secretly delighted, tugged gently on your right elbow. Before going with her, you tossed Satan’s mistress (AKA Stacy Raab) a snide little wink. Stacy rolled her eyes in disgust. 

“Stop it,” Chrissy said. 

“They started it.” 

“I know… but stop it. You’re better than that.” 

At the end of the hallway, you spotted Chance Gallagher standing in front of his open locker, wearing the same green letterman jacket that he’d worn when he asked you to prom six weeks ago. Chance closed his locker and caught your eye for a moment. Then he gave you a small, apologetic smile. 

What was he apologizing for? For asking you to prom, getting your hopes up, and then humiliating you in front of the entire senior class? You weren’t sorry he did it. In fact, you were glad he did it. Yeah, you wanted to go up to him, shake his hand, and thank him for being such a spineless little worm. If he were a decent guy, your night might have gone differently, and you were quite pleased with how your night went. So thank you, Chance. Thank you for being a complete scumbag. Maybe I should write him a thank-you note.

Smiling, you turned back around. As you did, you stole another quick glance at the clock on the wall. 

Eight-nineteen…

You sighed. 

… and now eight-twenty.

“He’s running late, huh?” Chrissy said. You looked her way and she flashed you a sweet, teasing smile. “I know you’re waiting for him.”

A small flush of heat tickled your cheeks, threatening to set your whole face on fire. Resisting it, you grabbed your padlock and started spinning the dial: three turns to the right, one full turn to the left, another quick turn to the right, and

“Are you nervous about seeing him?”

you missed the last number and had to start all over again. 

“Kind of,” you admitted. “Is that weird?”

Chrissy shook her head, her smile growing brighter and brighter. “Nope, it’s totally normal and absolutely adorable.” Giggling, she hugged her book tightly to her chest. If her hands were free, she probably would have hugged you instead. “I’m so happy for you. I really, really am. I swear, I feel like my heart’s about to burst right now.” 

“Well, you should probably see a doctor about that.” 

Chrissy stuck her tongue out at you. You did it right back, popped off your lock, and pulled on the handle. The locker door swung outward, squeaking on its hinges, and almost smacked Chrissy in the face. “Hey!” she said, laughing. She stepped back, skipped around you, and planted herself comfortably on your left side.

“So did you see him last night?” she asked, practically beaming. 

“Nope.” You slipped off your messenger bag and hung it on the hook. 

Chrissy squinted at you suspiciously. “Why do I feel like you’re lying right now?” 

“I’m not lying,” you told her, only to be betrayed by your blushing face. “I didn’t see him last night… technically it was this morning.” 

Twelve-o-two, to be exact. That’s when you saw the headlights flashing through your bedroom window blinds.

“Oh my god,” Chrissy said.  

“What? He just stopped by to say goodnight.” You smiled softly to yourself. “It was kind of romantic, actually.” 

“Uh-huh,” Chrissy said, laughing at you. “And how long did you two say goodnight?”

“Only for an hour… and a half.”

It was raining last night. You couldn’t invite Eddie into the house, so you two hung out in his van for a while. A very long while. W.A.S.P. was playing on the stereo. Eddie had found the cassette tape while cleaning out his van that afternoon. He was very proud of this accomplishment. It was adorable. He had you listen to a few of his favorite songs, asked you about your day, told you about his, and during “Cries In the Night,” he leaned over the center console and kissed you. Everything after that was a bit of a blur. The last thing you remembered was the horn blaring. You had accidentally pressed it with your elbow.  

“Oh my god,” Chrissy said.

“Stop saying, ‘Oh my god.’ You sound like my mom.”  

She had said the exact same thing after confronting you about it in the kitchen this morning. Turns out, the car horn had woken her up. Then she caught you creeping back inside through the front door. It was an awkward breakfast, to say the least. 

Chrissy poked your shoulder playfully. “That’s how it starts, you know. Late-night visits. Long, drawn-out goodbyes. You two are gonna be inseparable this summer.” She breathed a long, lovesick sigh. “Jason and I used to be like that.” 

“You’re still like that.” 

“Yeah,” she said, smiling. 

“Speaking of…” You saw Jason Carver coming down the hallway, his pants ironed and creased, white collared shirt tucked in, a brand-new Rolex glinting on his left wrist (an early graduation present from his father, apparently). He looked like a Ralph Lauren catalog model. “Is it weird that I’m picturing him naked right now?”

Chrissy hid her face in embarrassment. “I swear to God, if you say anything…” 

“What am I gonna say to him? ‘Thank you for deflowering my best friend’? ‘I heard your penis is rather pleasing’? I don’t wanna talk to him about that. I don’t even wanna think about that.”

Prior to this weekend, you couldn’t even imagine Jason Carver having genitals. You always figured he was like a Ken doll down there. Nothing but smooth plastic.

Chrissy looked at you, mortified. “Why do I tell you anything?”  

“I have no idea,” you said. Then you checked the clock again. 

Eight twenty-three. 

Where the hell’s Eddie? you wondered, starting to get a little worried.

Jason’s arrival reclaimed your attention. 

“Hey, guys,” he said in that smooth drawl that made all the girls swoon. 

You expected to find him standing with his million-dollar smile, but he wasn’t. No, today Jason seemed different—humble, approachable, perhaps even a little shy. It was as if he’d reverted back to his ten-year-old self. Little Jason Carver, who could barely dribble a basketball. The boy who stammered when he introduced himself to the rest of the class. The boy who sat down next to you, smiled, and said he liked the character on your favorite shirt. The boy who talked to you every day. Encouraged you. Defended you. The boy you caught staring at your best friend way too many times to be a coincidence. 

Then you looked at Chrissy and she seemed younger, too. A blushing, fidgeting ten-year-old who always forgot to stand up straight. She got so excited when Jason offered to walk her home from school. He even carried my books!

Back then, your happiness for them had been counterfeit, complicated, but not anymore. Yeah, now you could say you were genuinely happy for both of them. 

This was still awkward as hell, though.

“Hey, Chrissy needs to borrow a pencil,” you blurted out, breaking their amorous trance.

A soft pink flush rose to Jason’s cheeks. “What?”

“Just ignore her,” Chrissy said, struggling to keep a straight face. 

Meanwhile, you punched Jason on the shoulder. “Hey, don’t forget about our deal, buddy.” 

“I haven’t,” he told you. “I’ll buy your lunch, as promised. It’s the least I can do.” 

“What if I want two lunches? And a whole plate of cookies?”

“Then I guess I’m buying you two lunches and a whole plate of cookies.” 

Jason smiled at you… but then his demeanor changed, hardening like armor. 

“Are you okay?” he asked.

You blinked at him. “Am I okay?” you repeated slowly, a little taken aback. “Well, I did wake up with a strange tattoo on my wrist. It’s like a crucifix, except it’s upside-down. Weird… Also, I can’t be sure, but I think I might be dealing with a Rosemary’s Baby scenario. Yeah, I’m definitely gonna be giving birth to the Antichrist in about nine months. Buy something black.” 

Jason’s eyes widened in confused horror. 

“Oh my god, I’m kidding!” you said. “Eddie was a complete gentleman. He even asked for permission before he impregnated me with his hellseed. Naturally, I gave him the green light because… well, have you seen his face? It’s kinda perfect.” 

Chrissy put her hand over her mouth and giggled. Jason didn’t appreciate your joke. 

“Come on, be serious.” 

“I am being serious. Believe it or not, I actually find him insanely attractive. He’s like a discount version of Eddie Van Halen, and I can’t afford the real thing, so…” 

“So you actually slept with him?” Jason sounded disappointed and ashamed. He reminded you of your father. 

No, worse than your father.

“Well, no, I was kidding about that. I mean, I did sleep with him, but not in the way you’re assuming. And are you seriously gonna judge me for having sex? It’s been a while since I’ve been to church, but I’m pretty sure the bible condemns hypocrisy. You might wanna reread those sections. I think you’ll find them very enlightening.”

Jason ground his jaw in irritation. “Stop making jokes.” 

“I don’t want to,” you said finally, your voice breaking, “because then I’m just gonna get really, really mad like I’m doing right now, and I don’t wanna be mad at you, Jason. I was having a really good morning until you showed up.” 

By now, Chrissy had stopped laughing. Her shoulders drooped and she looked at you with a sick, sorry expression. 

Jason said, “Look, I just think you’re undervaluing yourself, okay? You can do so much better than that—”

“Oh, please don’t do that. Don’t try to talk to me like you’re my friend.” 

“I am your friend.” 

“Then be my friend, Jason. Stop trying to ruin my happiness!”

The school bell dinged and students began making their way to class. Jason went, too. Didn’t even bother saying goodbye. Chrissy told you not to worry about him. “Jason’ll come around eventually.” Then she smiled, waved goodbye, and ran to catch up with him. 

You weren’t half as optimistic as she was. 

This is gonna be a huge problem, isn’t it?  

You groaned, dreading it. 

Behind you, another wave of students came rushing down the hallway. Brittany Wirth was among them. You knew because you could hear her shrill voice piercing through the dull chatter around her. She was ranting about prom, complaining about the flowers, complaining about the food, about the music, about—

“YOU!” 

You flinched and turned around, thinking she was talking to you. 

What you saw made your eyes light up with glee. Brittany Wirth had Eddie Munson pinned up against the lockers, and she was jabbing him in the chest with her index finger. 

“You, sir, are a total asshole! Do you have any idea how hard I worked on that event? I was planning it for months, planning it to perfection, and then YOU had to go and make it all about yourself, as usual.” She stepped back and huffed, exhausted. “I hope you’re proud of yourself.” 

“I’m a little proud of myself,” Eddie replied candidly. 

Brittany shot him a deadly glare. “Oh, shut up!” She swept her hair off her shoulder and walked away.

You stopped her as she passed. “You know what, Brittany, all things considered, I thought it was a very successful night.” 

Brittany’s jaw dropped and got stuck like that, locked in befuddled rage. Not a single sound came out, but you could tell she was trying to speak. Was this it? Had it finally happened? Did Brittany Wirth actually crack? She worked her lips unsuccessfully for a minute and then closed them again, steaming in her hatred, screaming internally like a boiling teapot. She brushed past you and continued on her way. 

Then you heard Eddie approach you.  

“Did I really make the night all about me?” 

His question made you giggle. “A little bit.” You turned around with a smile, glad to see him, relieved to see him. “I still had a good time, though.” 

“Well, that’s all that matters,” Eddie said, but there was something in your eyes that made him frown with concern. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you said, and blinked that silly little worry away. “Jason’s just being… well, Jason.” 

“I take it he doesn’t approve of me.” 

“Yeah, you’ve really got him clutching his bible. He thinks you’re gonna drain my blood and sacrifice me to the devil.” 

“Really?” Eddie said, his eyes widening in false astonishment. “Well, he just spoiled our next date.” 

“Oh, really?” you replied, giggling. “Well, I guess that explains why I’m still a virgin.” 

Eddie winced, looked down at his shoes, and grinned bashfully. “Okay, I walked right into that one.”

“Yeah, you did,” you said; and God, it drove you crazy seeing him get so flustered.

Kinda like last night, you thought, startling yourself, and immediately shooed that dangerous thought away. Now was not the time for that, young lady. You still had a full day of school to get through. Somehow.

“You’re late,” you said.

“Yeah, I uh…” Eddie brought his hand to his face and started rubbing it. “I got pulled over for speeding.”

You gasped. “No, you didn’t.” 

“Yeah, I did.” 

“Prove it.”

Eddie pulled a folded-up piece of paper out of his back pocket and handed it to you. You opened it and immediately busted out laughing. 

“Oh, wow… going fifty-five in a forty-five.” 

“Eh, they went easy on me… I was going at least sixty.” 

“Wow…” 

“Yeah…” Eddie said, tilting his head. “The one time I’m in a rush to get to school.” 

His brown eyes sought yours and settled there for a moment, his lips curling into a tender, captivated smile. You smiled back helplessly, feeling girly, feeling giddy, feeling like you were probably grinning like an idiot right now. Embarrassed, you pressed the paper to your mouth in a vain attempt to hide it. When that didn’t work, you thrust the ticket back into Eddie’s hand and turned away, pretending to pull books from your locker. 

You felt along the spines like someone fumbling around in the dark. What class were you going to again? History? English? French? 

No, you weren’t even taking French.

You spoke to Eddie in a frazzled voice: “Well, since you’re not in handcuffs right now, I’m assuming they didn’t find anything when they searched your van, huh?” 

“Luckily, no…” 

“Good thing you cleaned out your van yesterday.”

“Mhm…” Eddie said, his voice seeming much closer than before.

Your roaming fingers slowed, then stopped, sliding all the way down the stack of books. With one more step, his presence had consumed you, making you blind and deaf to everything else, everything except Eddie. You could feel him standing next to you, leaning into you, his left hand outstretched and resting against the locker beside you. His voice sent a pleasant shiver down your spine.

“Find what you’re looking for yet?”

You gazed into his eyes and got lost in them. “… I can’t remember what class I’m going to.”

You laughed at yourself sheepishly, senselessly, and saw Eddie crack a small smile: half amused and half… something else, something that brought you back to last night—that quiet, rainy night. Sitting in the dark and listening to music. Eddie humming softly beside you, drumming his right hand on the steering wheel, watching the tiny droplets race down his windshield. You sitting in your seat nervously. Fidgeting restlessly. Running your fingers over the plastic cassette case on your lap. Pretending to take interest in it while secretly watching Eddie out of the corner of your eye. Waiting for him to kiss you. Hoping he’d kiss you. Catching him staring at you with that smile… the same smile he was giving you now… right before he leaned in and…

“Ahem.” 

Another student appeared behind you, tapping her foot impatiently. “Uhh, can I get to my locker, please?”

Eddie drew away from you, embarrassed and a little frustrated, and took two giant steps back.

The girl assumed his place without a word, opened her locker, hung up her backpack, her jacket, grabbed her textbook and notebook, snatched a few pens from her bag, and closed her locker again. Before leaving, she motioned between you and Eddie and said, “So is this like a thing now?”

You caught Eddie’s eye for a second. “Uhh, yes,” you said while he fought back a huge smile.

The girl shook her head as if dizzy. “Weird,” she said, and left. 

Afterward, you turned to Eddie with a puzzled frown. “Wait, is it weird that I’m dating you or that you’re dating me? I need to know where I rank in this relationship.”

“Maybe you should ask her.” 

“Maybe I will…” 

Giggling, you stepped past him, spotted your locker neighbor at the end of the hallway, cupped your hands over your mouth, and shouted, “Hey, Carmen!” but you never got a chance to finish. Eddie had grabbed your hand and dragged you back to him, pulling you into his arms, putting you right where he wanted you, intending to pick up exactly where he left off.

The second bell rang before you could even feel his breath on your lips. Eddie closed his eyes tightly, as if pained. 

“I really hate that I have to be in school right now.” 

“Me too,” you said, staring up at him, your heart still pounding in your chest. “We should probably get to class.”  

Eddie wrapped his arms around your waist and held you tighter against him. “Or we could just, y’know, skip first period altogether… since you don’t know where you’re supposed to be anyway.” 

He swooped down and placed a few chaste kisses along the side of your head. Blushing, you buried your face into his chest. 

“Are you trying to get me to cut class, sir?”

“No, just giving you options.” 

“Mhm,” you said, giggling. 

While you contemplated his offer, you traced your hand over the button pocket of his denim vest, feeling the fabric, flicking each of his treasured pins one by one: Judas Priest, Accept, Mercyful Fate. You found the W.A.S.P. pin last and focused on it, teasing it with your finger. 

“And then what?” you asked, lifting your head to look at him. “We go back to your van and finish what you started last night?” 

Eddie’s eyes brightened in surprise. “Finish what you started, if I remember correctly.”  

“Was I the one who started it?” You frowned, pretending not to remember. 

Meanwhile, your hand had drifted up to the collar of his leather jacket. You nudged it out of the way and started tugging along the neckline of his shirt, revealing a faint pink bruise on the base of his collarbone. Eddie winced as your finger brushed over it. You smiled softly, remembering how his breath hitched when your lips made the first budding mark, how he cursed and moaned while you planted all the others, his hands slipping underneath your shirt and sliding across your skin. 

“I may have gotten a little carried away…”

“Yeah, you definitely did,” Eddie said, smiling at you.  

“I just really like W.A.S.P.”

“Do you?” 

“Mhm…”

Eddie’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he laughed. “Well, I still have the tape in my van. We can go listen to it right now if you want.” 

You bit your lip hard, unable to answer right away. God dammit, what had you gotten yourself into? You weren’t seriously considering his proposition before, but now…

“Go to class, please.” 

Now Ms. Kelley had come out of her office and was sweeping away the last few stragglers, you and Eddie included.

“I know we’re all a little sluggish this morning, but let’s start this week off strong, okay? There’s still another month before graduation. Don’t lose your focus now.” She looked at you and Eddie tiredly. “You two. Class. Now.”

You sighed as you saw your window of opportunity close. Eddie peeled himself away from you and started down the hallway.  

“See ya later,” he said over his shoulder. 

“Bye,” you said back, hiding your disappointment behind a smile. 

Upon returning to your locker, you grabbed your textbook—the right textbook—and wedged it in the crook of your left elbow. While hunting around for the matching notebook and folder, you heard Eddie’s voice behind you again, catching you completely by surprise.

“Oh, wait,” he said hurriedly, “I forgot to tell you something.” 

“Hmm?”

You turned around and felt Eddie’s hands cup the sides of your face, drawing you in for a soft, sweet kiss. You closed your eyes, savoring it. A moment later, he broke the kiss and pulled away.

“See you in third period,” he said, departing with a smile. 

It took you a second to recover from that. When you finally did, you clutched your textbook to your chest and smiled uncontrollably, tears brimming in your eyes, your heart racing, stomach fluttering, face glowing with pure, radiant joy. 

Under your breath, you whispered, “I hate so much that I have to be in school right now.”

Gareth, on the other hand, was glad to be in school today. Admittedly, his morning had gotten off to a rough start, but things were finally starting to look up for him, and now he felt like he was on the verge of a major breakthrough. 

Maybe. 

Hopefully.

But he didn’t wanna jinx it. 

In first period, Gareth snuck into the library and talked to Matilda Gunn: salutatorian, captain of the debate team, and the third name on Gareth’s list (his new list, of course; the original list was long gone, probably lying in a trashcan somewhere).

Matilda, anyway, was sitting at the back table and studying for her upcoming physics test. Matilda preferred studying in the library over her study hall class because she couldn’t stand the sound of her neighbor chewing and slurping his nails. She wasn’t too happy when Gareth pulled out the chair across from her and sat down. She was even less happy when he brought up Eddie Munson. 

“First of all, I’m offended that you would even think I would associate with that moron. I hate the guy. He ruined my GPA. Stupid group projects… God, I hate them!” Enraged, Matilda tore a random leaf out of her notebook and ripped the poor thing to shreds. Gareth watched her do it, horrified, and hoped there was nothing important written on that page. “You know, if I’d known he was gonna slack off like he did, I would’ve just done the whole thing myself. But no… I gave him the benefit of the doubt. I gave him the easiest task and he couldn’t even do that. He said he forgot about it. Said he was busy working on a campaign or something.”

“Yeah, he gets like that sometimes,” Gareth said. “Like last month, he spent the whole weekend learning ‘Master of Puppets.’ Have you heard that song?” 

Matilda shook her head, her eyes glazed with boredom. 

“Well, doesn’t matter. It’s a very hard song to play. That’s all you need to know. And Eddie became obsessed with it. He locked himself in his room all weekend and practiced over and over and—” 

Matilda pressed her hand to her temple and hissed, “Listen, junior freak, I don’t give a shit about Eddie Munson and his fucking guitar. Okay? Second of all, I didn’t even go to prom on Saturday. I was studying all weekend, studying for this test, and if I don’t get an A, I’m gonna hold you personally responsible. Now get lost.”

Gareth lurched back in his seat and felt his mouth go dry. 

(Once again, why were high school girls so needlessly cruel?)

“Okay,” he said in a small voice. “I’m, uhh, sorry for bothering you.” 

He got up to leave. 

“Wait,” Matilda said with a sigh; then after a moment of careful, painful deliberation, she put out her hand. “Gimme your stupid list.”

Gareth held the list against his chest, protecting it. “You’re not gonna rip it up, are you?” he asked, observing the tattered remains of her last victim. “Because I’m getting kinda tired of writing all these names out.”

And some of those girls had really long names.  

“I’m not gonna rip it up.” Matilda’s voice was strained with frustration and fatigue, but there was still some warmth hiding in there, dimly glowing beneath the cold black coals of her heart. “I’m gonna help you narrow it down, okay? Otherwise, you’ll never figure it out.” She motioned impatiently with her hand. “Come on, hurry up.” 

Gareth handed her the list and she looked it over for a minute, vaguely amused.  

“Not a very long list,” she said while uncapping her highlighter with her teeth. 

“Well, Eddie’s very picky.” 

As he should be, Gareth thought. That man deserved the best.

(much better than you) 

Matilda snorted under her breath. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s it.” She rolled her eyes, bent her head, and began marking up the list with her highlighter. Her hand was calm and controlled, each movement deliberate, precise, as to be expected of an advanced test taker. “Okay, she has a boyfriend… she, I’m pretty sure, has a girlfriend… boyfriend… boyfriend… boyfriend… she’s been out of town for a funeral… and she… doesn’t even live in this state anymore.”

She crossed off the last name and slid the paper across the table. 

Gareth gaped at it, speechless. “You just eliminated everyone.” 

Matilda shrugged. “Like I said, not a long list.” 

It was a major setback, the kind of setback that made you want to tear the whole thing to pieces, cut your losses, and give up. Gareth seriously considered it. He almost did it while sitting in his second-period class. 

But then an angel appeared. A blonde-haired, blue-eyed angel named Olivia Kent.

She peered over his shoulder during class. “Whatcha doin’?” she asked, sitting with her chin on her palm. 

Gareth considered lying, saying he was working on his assignment or something, but in his current state, he didn’t have the heart to deceive anyone, especially not Olivia, who was so innocent and kind.

“I’m trying to figure out who my friend went home with after prom.” 

“Oh? Who’s your friend?”

“Eddie Munson.” 

“Oh…” Olivia giggled a silly, unaffected giggle. “Yeah, he had quite the night.” 

Gareth turned around in his seat. “You were at prom, Livvy?” 

“Mhm! It was a lotta fun.” 

“And you saw Eddie there?”

“Sure. I saw him lots of times.” 

“Did you see him leave with anybody?”

“Sure did… I saw everything.” 

“You saw everything?” Gareth sat back, awestruck, and felt tears come to his eyes. This was it. This was finallyit. This was the breakthrough that Gareth had been waiting for. An eyewitness—a star witness—had emerged at last, willing and eager to cooperate. “Oh, Livvy, you beautiful, beautiful, heavenly creature, tell me everything.” 

“About what?”

“About prom, Livvy.” 

“Oh, you wanna hear about prom?” Olivia shrugged, smiled, and said, “Okay! Philip Cuthbert asked me. I didn’t think he was going to, but then he totally surprised me! I wore a frilly pink dress and matching pink heels. Phillip wore a dark blue tux and a black bowtie. I think it was black, but it might’ve been blue, too. Then Philip got me one of those really pretty flower bracelets… What are those called again? Oh, right, corsages! Anyway, we took pictures on the front lawn of my house, then we took pictures at his house, and then we took more pictures in front of City Hall. I don’t normally like taking so many pictures, but I didn’t mind so much in this case. It was a special occasion. Phillip said I looked very pretty. He was really nice to me all night. He held my hand. He bought me dinner. He got me some cake. I actually ate two slices of cake that night, but don’t tell anybody, okay? I was only supposed to have one. And then we danced and drank punch and we danced again—”

Gareth put his hand on top of hers, making Olivia blush and look at him in doe-eyed wonderment. “Livvy, I’m glad you had such a fun time at prom, but since class is gonna be ending soon, do you think you could speed things up and get to the part where you saw Eddie? Is that okay?”

“Sure,” Olivia said, smiling. “I saw him talking to Chrissy.” 

“Yeah, he went there to ask her to dance. I told him it was a terrible idea, but he refused to listen to me.” 

“Yeah, that was a bad idea. Why would he do that?” 

“Because Eddie’s a hopeless romantic.” 

“Really?” Olivia frowned, considering it. “He doesn’t seem like one.” 

“He hides it behind a mask of cynicism, and he hides it very well.” 

“Oh,” Livvy said, mystified by the concept. “Well, I guess that explains why he got up on stage then.”

“Wait, Eddie got up on stage?” 

Damn, Gareth thought, that’s actually really impressive.

“Mhm! He gave this long speech and everything. My friends said it was really weird and embarrassing, but honestly, I thought it was kinda sweet. Super embarrassing, but sweet. It was kind of like a… hmm… well, I guess you could call it a love confession. I don’t remember what he said exactly, but it was really adorable, and normally I wouldn’t use that word to describe Eddie—you know, ‘cause he’s so mean and scary-looking—but at that moment, he really was adorable. Kinda like a puppy. And then he played Journey and—” 

Gareth’s head rocked back. “He played Journey? Eddie played Journey? Eddie doesn’t like Journey. Nobody likes Journey. Nobody except…” 

(you)

Gareth’s eyes widened. His stomach plummeted to the floor. Then he shook his head and the thought was gone. 

“Okay, maybe it’s just a coincidence,” he said. “Maybe the DJ suggested Journey. Do you remember what song it was, Livvy?” 

“No, I don’t. Sorry, I’m not very good with song titles.” 

“Was it ‘Separate Ways’? ‘Any Way You Want It’? ‘Don’t Stop Believin’’? ‘Faithfully’? ‘Open Arms’?” 

“You know, for someone who doesn’t like Journey, you sure know a lot of Journey songs.” 

And for someone who seemed like such an airhead, Olivia Kent was shockingly observant. Gareth was rather impressed. He couldn’t help but tip his head to her. Touché, fair lady.

“I think it was the last one,” Olivia said. 

“‘Open Arms’?” 

“I think so.” 

“So Eddie played a sappy love song,” Gareth concluded while rubbing his chin. “Makes sense.” 

“Mhm… and it must’ve worked ‘cause she left with him right after.” 

“You saw the girl who left with him?”  

“Yep.” 

“You saw her face?”

“Of course I did. She walked right past me.” 

“And did you recognize her?”

“Uh-huh!” 

“YES!” Gareth pumped his fists excitedly. He almost leaped out of his chair and kissed her, he was so happy. “Who was it, Livvy? Tell me who it was!”

Olivia sighed. “I don’t remember.” 

“What?” Gareth’s heart shattered. “But you just said you recognized her.”

“I did recognize her face, but I don’t remember her name… Sorry, Gareth, I’m not very good with names.” 

“You’re not good with names,” Gareth repeated softly, beside himself. “She’s not good with names. She’s not good with names. My star witness isn’t good with names.” 

He laughed madly to himself, feeling dizzy and delirious, feeling like the whole room was spinning like a turntable. A turntable playing Journey. Journey! Of all the bands in the world, Eddie, why Journey? Why? Why?

Meanwhile, Olivia rested her cheek against her palm and smiled at him. “You have really pretty eyes. Do you want my number?”  

Gareth paused, considering it. His face turned bright red. 

“Yes, Livvy. Yes, I’d love to get your number.” 

“Cool!” She scribbled it on a piece of notebook paper and handed it to him. “Call me sometime, okay?” 

So now Gareth was strolling away from his third-period class with a laminated hall pass in hand, Olivia Kent’s phone number in his pocket, a massive pit in his stomach, and Steve Perry’s annoying voice in his head. 

Journey. 

Eddie had requested Journey.  

It wasn’t a coincidence, was it? 

Gareth walked past Mr. Prichard’s math class, stopped, and backpedaled a few paces. He pressed his face against the glass and peered inside. 

Eddie was sitting at his desk with his assignment out and textbook open in front of him. He had his pencil in his hand, but he had yet to write a single answer. He was just tapping it against his notebook while he stared absently at the chalkboard, stared with a faraway look in his eyes. Gareth knew that look. It meant Eddie was lost in thought, usually about D&D or whatever new song he was learning, but today Gareth had a sneaking suspicion that Eddie was thinking about something else—or rather someone else. 

But not you. Please, God, not you. 

You were sitting behind him and quietly working on your assignment, just working on your assignment, and that caught Gareth a little off guard. If you had gone home with Eddie (as Gareth begrudgingly suspected now), shouldn’t you have been acting a little… happy? excited? Shouldn’t you have been staring at the back of his head with a dumb, lovesick expression? Daydreaming and doodling about him in your notebook? Naming your future children and planning your destination wedding?

Gareth expected to feel something when he peeked into that classroom. A change in energy. A shift in the natural balance of the universe. Call it whatever you want, but there should have been a noticeable difference in the air, right? Right?  

But there wasn’t.

Everything was totally normal. 

You and Eddie were acting totally normal. 

And that filled Gareth with an exhilarating sense of relief. 

It wasn’t you. Thank God, it wasn’t you. 

Gareth backed away with a smile. If he had stayed a minute longer, he would have seen the exact change in energy he had been waiting for. If he had stayed a minute longer, he would have seen Eddie turn around and start talking to you. He would have seen you smile and blush and tell him to go back to his assignment (even though you didn’t really want him to go back to his assignment). Then he would have seen Eddie turn back to the front, try to do his work, give up, and turn around again five minutes later. 

But Gareth didn’t stay. Instead, he continued down the hallway in blissful ignorance, pulled out his list, ripped it up, and tossed the pieces into the trash. 

If it wasn’t any of them and it wasn’t you, there was only one logical conclusion. 

“She doesn’t go to school here, does she?”

Gareth forced this treasonous charge onto Eddie as soon as he arrived at the cafeteria. He had found his target sitting at his usual place at the head of the table. The seat of high honor. Eddie’s chair. The king’s chair. Gareth, a once-honorable and faithful soldier, slammed down his tray, leaned forward, pressed his palms into the table, and looked Eddie Munson square in the eye. Unblinking. Unflinching. Unyielding against his Dungeon Master’s powerful, intimidating aura.  

A moment of tense silence passed. Jeff and Grant looked at each other and immediately stopped eating. Jeff put down his peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Grant screwed on the lid of his soup thermos and set the container aside. There was no telling how long this would take. Gareth had a talent for prolonging his inevitable demise. It was like watching a slow hanging. 

Oh, but what a show it would be. 

“Who is she, Eddie?” Gareth thrust out his finger accusingly. “Huh? Is she a teacher? A townie? Some drunk chick you picked up at the bar while drowning your pathetic sorrows away?” 

“Yikes,” Jeff said, cringing. 

And Grant said, “That is quite the allegation.”  

Indeed it was, and Eddie didn’t seem to appreciate the open assault on his character. His brown eyes sharpened into a steely glare. They reflected Gareth’s destruction like a black crystal ball. Doom. Doom. Doom. 

“Get your finger outta my face,” Eddie said, and that was all he needed to say.  

“I’m so sorry,” Gareth said, and fell back into his chair with a thump. His heart thudded in his chest while the color slowly returned to his face. That was as close to death as Gareth had ever come. It was a miracle he’d survived. He bent his head and capitulated: “I sincerely apologize for my previous statement. It was malicious and rude, completely unbecoming of my position.”

Grant squinted his eyes curiously. “And what is your position, exactly?” 

“I’m Eddie’s best friend, obviously.” 

“Obviously,” Jeff echoed, snickering. 

Grant, wryly amused, said, “Uhh, I’m pretty sure Scottie’s his best friend.” 

Eddie, having dropped his tyrannous facade, was pretending to listen while absentmindedly picking through his snack bag, his thoughts elsewhere, eyes elsewhere. But where, Gareth couldn’t say. He had strained his neck to see who Eddie was looking at, but it was impossible to tell with so many people in the cafeteria. He could have been looking at anyone, anyone, anyone except you.

“He’s right,” Eddie murmured. “Scottie’s my best friend.” 

Gareth shrugged, unconcerned with such trivial technicalities. “Well, then I’m your second best friend, Eddie, and since Scottie’s in prison right now, I have to step in and assume the role in his stead.” 

“Ah, the interim best friend. So that’s the imaginary position you gave yourself.” 

“Oh, shut up and eat your soup, Grant.” 

“I will eat my soup,” Grant said, “and I’ll enjoy it while you continue to embarrass yourself.” 

“You’re embarrassing yourself,” Gareth grumbled nonsensically. He stabbed a piece of broccoli with his fork, stuffed it into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. It tasted like dirt. “I’m having a really horrible day.”

“Well, that’s too bad,” Eddie said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Mine’s actually going pretty well.”

Another cryptic response. Gareth simply couldn’t take it anymore.

“You know,” Jeff began, “speaking of Scottie—” 

Gareth flung down his fork angrily, sending a spear of broccoli whizzing past Grant’s left shoulder. 

“Oh, come on, just tell me who it is already! Enough with the hints and the coded language. I swear to God, you’re driving me crazy, Eddie! You’ve been torturing me for days with this mystery. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can’t think about anything else. As your friend, I’m begging you to stop. Please, for my sanity, stop.” 

Eddie popped a pretzel into his mouth and chewed. “I’ve been torturing you?”

Grant said, “He’s been torturing himself, honestly.” 

Jeff nodded, seeming on the verge of laughter. “Yeah, he made a list and everything.”

Eddie grimaced. “Wait, there’s a list? Why is there a list?” 

“Because you’ve driven me to madness, Eddie!” Gareth blurted out in blind white rage. “I hope you’re happy because you’ve driven me to complete madness! Who were you with on Saturday? Don’t even try to deny it because I heard a girl talking in the background. It wasn’t the TV. It was a girl. A living, breathing girl. I know you were with her that night, and I know you were with her yesterday.” 

“I wasn’t with her yesterday,” Eddie replied, his eyelids heavy with annoyance. “I already told you, I was out running errands.” 

“Oh, you’re sticking with that story, huh? Okay, Eddie, let’s assume you were out running errands. Let’s assume you spent your whole Sunday exactly as you said. You got up bright and early, stopped by the drugstore for God knows what, and then spent the rest of the day by yourself at home, cleaning out your van.” 

“I did clean out my van yesterday. That’s how I found my lost W.A.S.P. tape.”  

“Oh, which album?” Grant asked. 

“The Last Command,” Eddie answered, a soft smile touching his face. 

Wait, was that another clue?

“Nice,” Grant said. “That’s a solid album.” 

Eddie nodded, agreeing, but now there was a distant glimmer in his eyes that wasn’t there before. Gareth couldn’t take his eyes off it. It was as if his friend was lost in a cherished memory. 

What significance did this W.A.S.P. tape hold?

Was there any significance? 

These questions twisted Gareth’s mind into a pretzel. 

And speaking of pretzels, Eddie had set down his snack bag and stopped eating. Weird. He now sat with his arms folded over his chest, fingers drumming impatiently against his right bicep. His wandering eyes kept going back to the clock. Counting down the minutes. What had him so restless all of a sudden? What was he waiting for? His next class? English? Was that significant? Eddie hated English. He dreaded English. He complained about it every day because it meant he had to see— 

Eddie pushed off the table and stood up. Gareth climbed up from his chair, too. 

“Where are you going, Eddie?” 

“Dude,” Jeff said, looking up at him. “You need to calm down.” 

“Otherwise,” Grant went on, “you might get demoted to third best friend.”

The two of them dissolved into laughter. Gareth didn’t even hear them.  

“It’s happening,” he muttered. “Something’s happening.”

“Yeah, you annoyed Eddie so much that he had to leave to get away from you.” 

But that wasn’t it. Eddie wasn’t fleeing for the exit like a coward. No, he was marching straight through the middle of the cafeteria like a lone soldier charging through the battlefield. Charging to victory or to death. He was infiltrating the enemy’s stronghold, impervious to their hostile glares and raised eyebrows. Even Jason Carver himself, who had begun to get out of his chair, could not stop him today. Eddie was a man determined, a man determined to get to

(of course)

you. 

He wedged himself between two basketball players, pushed his palms into the table, and greeted you with a charming smile. You gazed up at him in sweet surprise. 

“Hi,” you said. 

“Hi,” he said back. “You wanna skip next period?”

Chrissy’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god,” she said while you blushed, buried your face in your hands, and giggled. 

Gareth, dumbstruck, slumped back into his chair with the bitter taste of defeat in his mouth. 

That bitch, he thought. That Journey-loving bitch, she actually did it.

Grant regarded him with an impressed frown. “You know, you’re handling this a lot better than I thought you would. When did you figure it out?” 

Gareth sighed. “Second period.” 

Eddie just had to play Journey.

There was a moment of solemn silence after that. Then Grant unscrewed his soup thermos and lunch resumed as usual. Jeff took a bite of his sandwich. Gareth, now resigned to his grim fate, stuck his fork into his meatloaf and cut himself a modest slice. The meat looked dry and grey. What a horrible new world he lived in. 

But, he supposed, there was something to look forward to. 

“I got Olivia Kent’s number today. I think I’m gonna ask her out this weekend.”

SERIES MASTERPOST

FANFICTION MASTERLIST

unfortunately, i no longer do taglists. if you want to stay updated on my fics, you can follow me and/or subscribe to my posts. thank you!

[archivedblog16]

Loona being rude to clients could've been contextualized in a cool way: have her just hate having to appease sinners.

Loona is a hellhound. Hell has always been her home. Despite being born in it, she's at the very bottom of the societal hierarchy. She had to spend 18 years of her life in the pound, which is borderline prison for hellhounds. She's more often treated as a pet rather than a sapient person, even Millie often refers to her as just "the hellhound".

Now compare that to the average sinner. Sinners are the souls of humans who end up in hell specifically because they were awful people in life. The common sinner is an evil piece of shit to some extent. and YET, Sinners are automatically higher on the class system than even other hellborn demons. Evil humans are higher valued than native demons. Even worse, some sinners spawn in with superpowers and get the chance to become even MORE powerful than they were in life by becoming overlords and enslaving other souls; they get set to hell by being horrible people, and then get REWARDED by being horrible people.

Have this be the reason why Loona is so rude and disrespectful to clients. She's been mistreated her whole life for being born as she was, and has to appease the wishes of Sinners who are horrible people and are treated as more worthy than her. Loona just doesn't have it in her to be civil to sinners like Blitzo and the others, and that causes conflict. You could have an moment were Loona vents to her dad about how unfair their lives our just because of who they are, and how they have to cow toe to the worst of humanity in order to get by. (Maybe earlier in the series she'd even voice how she hates how Blitzo has to similarly bow to the wishes of Stolas to get by) had And Blitzo would be understanding to Loona's plight, and do his best to ease her worries. He knows it sucks and it's the only way to make money, but that they have each other so it's not completely awful. They can do what they have to do to stay afloat, and still be good to each other and not let it affect them.

this approach takes advantage of hell as a setting where it is the dimension where the worst of humanity go after death.

Loona hating to appease to sinners sounds cool. As hellhounds are the bottom of the hierarchy and had to fight to survive. Sinners can be overlords too so like you said they are rewarded/awarded for exploiting other sinners. I wish Vivziepop did that.

[proffesionalalpaca]

I need more theories about Avatar 3 because I'm going to go crazy until the premiere 😭 I'm so curious how Spider will react if Quaritch really joins Ash's na'vi or worse kidnaps him again and forces him to join too

Let me just get my hat on *rustles of foil*

-

To put it simply I think if Spider was to find out Quaritch had joined the Ash clans, he’d be a mess of conflicting emotions: both pride at the fact his ‘not-dad’ is capable of connecting with Pandora and the Na’vi like that but also, from the nature of the ash people, be disappointed in who he has decided to connect with.

But for comedic effect here’s the initial reaction:

‘Quaritch joined the Na’vi’

Spider: YES!

‘It’s the Ash people’

Spider: FUCK!

-

Quaritch would, in my mind, definitely try to make his ‘totallynotmyson-son’ live with him, because being accepted by a group of Na’vi is what Spider wants right? But of course spider is a gentle person whose closest friend maybe the embodiment of Eywa herself, he wouldn’t want to be apart of a culture that values cruelty like severing and wearing kurus as trophies, or potentially having any affiliation with the RDA/human side of the war - who the ash people may be allying with.

I feel like the Metkayina will be where spider finds himself as a man and their pacifistic way of life being antithetical to his biological father would only attract him further.

The ash people will likely be the Opposite to everything the reef people & tulkun represent, much like their opposing elements - and while spider is a warrior at heart with an ever burning fire that may endear him to the ash people, I just can’t think he would be on board, though he would again feel conflicted if they were completely ready to accept him despite of all his differences. Everything he wants if he leaves behind who he is.

If Quaritch forced Spider to join the ash clans (which I don’t think it’d get quite that far but not for lack of trying on Mile’s part), Spider would resent his father for making him join the clan that’s trying to kill his ‘people’ (kiri, Lo’ak & etc…). It would, from in spider’s point of view, be little different from being forced to join the RDA directly.

-

Extra theory:

Themes of this film will likely be about war, forgiveness & rebirth.

War - obvious reasons but specifically about the cycle of violence of being wronged so you must take revenge which then creates the feedback loop of conflict that never ends. The ash people were likely on the losing side of a conflict/ many conflicts a long time ago and they still hold one hell of a grudge - which is why they’ll join the humans to defeat their ‘shared’ enemies.

Forgiveness - this is Neytiri’s theme, she needs to learn to let the past go in order to achieve inner peace and move on in her life without holding onto all that pain and anger. Especially towards Spider, where she’ll see that the ash people are the result of this blind hatred for the actions of one’s ancestors being put upon an innocent party. How petty & pointless it really is, especially how it can poison a person’s soul overtime. She doesn’t need to forget but to recognise that Spider and many humans are not all guilty of the crimes of a few terrible people. Maybe this will even aid in her journey to understanding humanities plight on Earth?

Rebirth - I’ve said before with project phoenix and the cultural symbolism of fire, there are huge indicators for rebirth to be a major theme and I think that will be Quaritch’s theme going forward as he sheds the identity of the human Quaritch and becomes the Na’vi man he lives as now, whether that is with the ash people or not is another matter but I think they will be crucial in finding his connection with Pandora, with Varang as a key point in this journey.

I also think from the leaks of spider that rebirth will be apart of his character arc, overcoming the limitations of his human body to truly be apart of Pandora. And kiri who could be reborn as the Avatar of Eywa herself.

[blushedfawn]

OKAY I FINISHED FOOL'S ERRAND AND I HAVE THOUGHTS HERE THEY ARE:

SPOILERS AHEAD

- Starling I want ur fucking head on a platter and somebody said on goodreads ur ass is in book 2 as well, you need to see me in my office FOR TERMINATION. She was absolutely awful to Fitz and Hap, and she fucking sucks. She wants Fitz so bad but then wants to make him feel worthless bc he won't sleep with you. GET A GRIP. I HATE YOU.

-Fitz you are really the best of us tasked with making the worst decisions, I loved him working through his trauma and thought process in this book moreso than ever. him being like "yeah it was wrong but this is how I feel and this is why, and I can't change it" and then always coming around ... GROWTH BABY!!! his final remarks about letting Hap live freely, his talk with Chade, his acceptance of dutiful was proof. HE STILL HEARD HEADED BUT THIS IS GOOD.

(I need to ignore him torturing deerskin tho bc that genuinely scared me)

-laurel, don't piss me off. ur on thin ice. she came around and saved the day and then apologized to Fitz so shes good rn but trust you will be dealt with in my mind palace if you fuck up

her name evades me now but miss charm maker was so sweet and a wonderful addition to what I wish was starlings fucking exit. she was joyous, I loved her cat, and I loved every scene she was in. i want more of her.

-Fool.... be still my heart YOU ARE BELOVED. Beloved absolutely was a big part of why this book was so much fun, Lord Golden was everything to me. ALSO THE HORSE BEING NAMED MALTA. I SEE YOU!!!!!!! LIVESHIP TRADERS MAKE SOME NOISEEEEE

UMM ALSO WE GOT A REALLY CRAZY FORESHADOWING FOR WHAT I THINK MIGHT BE THE BIGGEST VILLAIN OF THIS BOOK SERIES. Pale woman I'm onto you. and I am absolutely terrified. i know devastation is coming

-these books do a really good job of making you question what you think you know about magic systems, places, and people that have already been introduced. The wit magic being so complicated and then the ways different people live with it was shown so phenomenally shown. especially when one part of a larger group doesnt align with the rest yet all feel the repercussions..... YUP.

-DUTIFUL YOU SWEET BABY ANGEL HONEY PIE CHILD THEY TRIED TO HURT YOU. You are ur dad's son I know THATS right. Fitz being on the other side of the coin and seeing the cycle of the fatherless boy through different eyes was a PLEASURE to read like that was PROSE. When he reached for Dutiful at the table my heart was absolutely melted. Those moments... wow

Dutiful is so funny too, like I was chuckling. I think the new bride is gonna be a fun character and I'm excited to see her grow like Malta did (pls don't be evil)

-peladine you are one evil bitch. piebalds.... i don't like y'all. i understand your plight but I don't appreciate them being so evil toward animals bc they're gifted. RIP to Kit you didn't deserve to be neglected and not let to have control of ur own body for that stingy bitch who forced you to neglect ur needs. l

-seeing so many old faces was a breath of fresh air but seeing them age and change was like.... wow. if Robin didn't do such an outstanding job of making you love and care about these characters, this wouldn't HIT THE WAY IT DOES. 10/10

I'ma be real with you...I knew Nighteyes was gonna die the second they started talking about how old he was. like girl bye they tried to set it up to let me down easy and it DIDN'T WORK. I still just .... that send off .... i pictured it in my mind and it was so beautiful I cannot even ... the tears were FLOWING.

[eepylesbean]

Just a lil stucky WIP I pooped out just now, tell me how we feeling about it

Steve quickly made his way down the ornate castle halls, making sure to keep his dress from tripping him. He zipped past servants going on about their work, heels clacking loudly on the marble floors before coming to face a large intrequit door.

He slammed it open, chest heaving as he came to a stop. His mother and a very familiar face stood at the foot of the throne, two guards by each person.

"Bucky?" He said breathlessly, the man in question turned from the queen Sarah--Steve's mother-- and grinned. "Hey stevie" He said as he held out his arms, inviting the blond in.

Steve quickly took the hint and pushed himself from the door and into the brunet alphas arms. He jumped and bucky quickly caught him in air and spun him around, Steve's dress and bucky coat tails dramatically spinning with them.

Bucky sat Steve back down on the floor looking down at him with an even bigger smile on his handsome face. "Long time no see, huh?" He said kiddingly, Steve still in his embrace.

Steve's bright expression quickly turned to anger, "You jerk!" He said sternly as he broke from his embrace and punched the much larger man's shoulder.

Bucky laughed and held a gloved hand up to one of his, frankly, confused guards--a heavier set man with a bushy mustache, as moved towards them.

"I haven't seen you in forever and I have to find out through servant gossip that you were here?!" Not lowering his voice any but there was no real malice in his tone.

"Sorry doll, my dad was working me to the bone, trying to get me ready for the throne." He explains, " hardly any time to write or visit." He put his hands on Steve's shoulders as to stop his flailing.

Steve huffed at the explanation but stopped his movements. "Can I tell you why I'm here?" Bucky ducked down to meet Steve's eyes, who looked back up at him through his lashes and nodded with a pout.

"Well, I've got news and I of course wanted you to be the first to know." Steve perked up, wondering what it could possibly be.

"I'm getting married." Bucky said with a smile.

Steve's heart dropped, he blinked a couple of times in confusion. "What?" He barely heard himself over the blood rushing to his ears.

He quickly recovered and cleared his throat. "That... is great." He tried his best to look and sound excited for the alpha, but even to him it didn't sound right. "Do I... do I know them? What are they like?" He knew he shouldn't be but he was curious to find who would be taking the spot by Bucky's side he had been wanting since he was a pup.

Bucky seemed to get more excited at the question. "You know them very well, I promise, and they're probably the prettiest omega I've ever met, little spitfire too, always quick to put me in my place when I need it." Bucky gushed about the omega, not knowing about Steve's plight happening in front of him.

Steve swallowed and numbly pushed from Bucky loose embrace, nodding along to what Bucky was saying.

"Well, I'm sure they'll be great for you... I think I might just..." He trailed off trying to find an excuse, looking to his mother who was holding her hand over her mouth, trying to cover a smile. "Steve, dear, did you hear a thing he said?" She asked with a smile and an eye roll aimed at Bucky.

Steve looked back at the alpha even more confused. Bucky was biting his lip trying to hold back laughter like his mother was a few seconds ago.  "Steve, I was talking about you, I want to marry you, if you'll have me of course."

It seemed everything Bucky was saying was a different language, because Steve froze again, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "I don't understand." He said slowly, looking between the two older alphas.

"That's why I'm here, I was asking your mother for your hand in marriage." And when that explanation didn't work Bucky sighed deeply. "Here how about this," he lowered down on one knee in front of the blonde. " Steven Grant Rogers of TBD, will you marry me?" He held Steve's much smaller and colder hands in his own large warm hands as he smiled up at the omega.

Something finally clicked in Steve as he gasped and tear rushed to his eyes for a different reason.

He looked up at his mother and even the guards around excitedly before making his way back down to Bucky, who was looking back with affection.

"Yes! Yes of course I'll marry you, you jerk!" He said excitedly and found himself back into the alphas arms, almost knocking him over. Bucky laughed as he hefted himself and Steve from off the floor.

Bucky brought out a small box that held an even smaller band of silver and shinging diamonds in it. "Now I know it's not much but I figured we'd go together and pick something else out before the---." He tried to explain sheepishly before he was cut off. "Shut up, I love it, I'll keep it forever." Steve said while admiring the ring that was placed on his finger.

Bucky chuckled and brought the blonds hands to his mouth and kissed his knuckles. "Of course, doll." He smiled from under his lashes.

[aziraphales-library]

Hello mods! I love your work so much and believe that what you do for the fandom is extremely admirable. Sorry if something very similar to this has already been asked, but I was wondering if you could find some fics in which Crowley is genderfluid and switches up his physical presentation and pronouns (e.g using she/her while fem-presenting in Golgotha) throughout the fic. Thank you dears! :)

Hi! You'll want to check out #genderfluid crowley tag for more fics like this! Here are some more for you...

Sunshine by ivoryline (G)

Newt has some questions for Crowley about gender exploration.

The Right Shape by ElCompositor (T)

Crowley knows a thing or two about changing his shape - he's had many, many forms, each beloved in its own way. So when he meets someone deeply unhappy with their own shape, he does his best to give them that same feeling of beloved-ness. And, maybe even receives a little beloved-ness in return.

Basically, Crowley is the genderfluid/nonbinary icon we all knew he was, and also is our trans dad who is looking out for all the little baby trans people. Trans fluff for a belated trans day of visibility.

A demonic study in gender by shanimalew (T)

Crowley explores gender presentation throughout a few historical periods.

what's in a name? by noclouds (T)

“what’s in a name,” the actor on stage sighs, “that which we call a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet.” he frowns, though understands juliet’s plight exactly. names are more complicated than let on. or, crowley's journey of self-discovery from creation to after the apocalypse-that-wasn't.

Warning coloration by WoodsWitch (T)

"It was hard to keep your guard up around someone so open and friendly and charming. And lovely, whispered a treacherous thought. It was dangerous beauty, Aziraphale tried to remind himself. Black, red, yellow - warning coloration, like a coral snake or a wasp. A helpful sign saying: Do not touch."

Basically 6000 years of Aziraphale trying to figure out what Crowley's deal is, and some of the heavenly conditioning that makes that difficult. Of course, he was largely correct to start off with - he's just over-thinking it a bit.

Note: Crowley's pronouns are all over the place in this. That was intentional, meant to reflect either how he/she/they are presenting at various points in history...but just a heads up, in case the first swap or two is jarring.

To Have and to Hold by Raichel (M)

Some temptations are better accomplished with a feminine touch.

Unfortunately for Crowley, humans have some annoying hang ups about what a single woman is allowed to get up to. She needs to have a man around to avoid suspicion. Crowley needs a favor from his one real friend on Earth.

This is the story of how Crowley and Aziraphale became spouses of convenience. At least, when the job calls for it.

- Mod D

[wonderpommey]

“I wasn't crying about mothers," he said rather indignantly. "I was crying because I can't get my shadow to stick on. Besides, I wasn't crying.” J-M Barrie, Peter Pan

Help! Roman seems to be irremediably stuck in the denial stage.

He denies Logan's death and his subsequent grief, rewrites the fact that he’s partly to blame for Logan souring on Gerri and in fact wasn’t he helping the old gal actually, he can’t face up to the unsavoury dealings that the realities of being in charge entail etc.

He’s also completely unable not to see his own plight in others; Rushing over to Kerri, {the jilted shadow chosen one who displays her uncontrollable pain because Logan promised her the world and taking her side against the older arguably wronged woman who’s exacting her revenge} is the thing getting his most pained whines of this episode. His most selfless act is also his most self-centred one... "Oh this I can understand, I too was dad’s to fuck. He also promised me things he didn’t make good on and when I lost him, I didn’t even get the comfort I deserved from the person I’ve wronged”.

This season is hailing honesty as the single redeeming feature for enduring relationships within that universe. 

Connor and Willa of all pairings have gotten there. 

The sibs manage an imperfect version of it. 

Shiv and Tom keep trying to say something real to each other.

Roman and Gerri? No, she doesn’t care about getting fired, it’s fine. He didn’t hurt her at all. They, who have always used the shadows of business talk to live their romance, are utterly failing at honesty and openness.

Unless Roman starts facing up to reality in general, this will end tragically for him. Do pills and transferring caring skills to random Logan-approved people help keep a genuinely loving personality at bay?

It’s all incredibly ominous by the way the mounting tension of the dangers facing Roman. The guard dog arriving, the nazi watch, the blowup at Shiv about Mencken, conveniently ignoring his role in Gerri’s fragility (of course nazism and masculinity are the only things that allow him to ignore what he’s done). There are also outspoke references to paedophilia in the obit and the Gauguin paintings. Roman is fine, he’s smiling, he’s moving on, he’s 'pre-grieved'. And frankly, who notices the cracks? Ken maybe…

Yeah there’s no way this doesn’t end taunting a progressive crowd, T-posing for his sins.

Gerri will be fine reassuringly. Roman is proving with every minute that passes that not allowing herself to be wooed by him had been the right call all along. She’s proving how the tiniest sliver of impropriety could have been her death - including at Roman’s hands. And she’s acting every bit as smug as she should.

But of course now she loses CEO and he gets the leverage of knowing Logan was going to fire her. They both have prejudicial information about each other they’re not currently using...

So was a sham marriage better than a romance that wouldn’t say its name? In succession? Welcome to our era of fearing the answer…

[alexissara]

The Magical Revolution of the Reincarnated Princess and the Genius Young Lady Quick Review

The Magical Revolution of the Reincarnated Princess and the Genius Young Lady or as we'll be calling it for the rest of this review, Magirevo is an amazing yuri anime series. It made a lot of interesting choices in it's adaptation to make the 12 episodes very punchy, fast paced and really get to the heart of the series without spending a lot of time pondering. I do wish the series was longer and we had more time for getting into people's feelings, the lives of the side characters, etc but the 12 episodes we did get are superub. The anime starts a little slow and it's jokes don't land nearly as well as the manga but the comedy in this series is mostly pushed away for action.

It was a really smart choice to turn Magirevo into more of an action yuri in terms of having it reach a wider audience. The action looks very cool and it makes a lot of sense with the ending they were building to with a dramatic fight that decides what will happen with the future of the kingdom. Everything is very intentionally building to the ending and it makes a lot of the choices make a ton of sense.

Our Protagonist Anis is charming, she is funny, she's very relatable to me even as a dumb ass because she feels very real to a lesbian who is living in a fantasy world. Euphy is very much tied into the royalty, nobility, the sense of duty but the show is also super empathic to her plight and her feeling like she had a role and it was taken form her and the grief she felt about it. The side characters Tilty, Lainie and Ilia are both really good side characters whom I really wish got much more attention but at the very least every scene with them in it was a banger, when they get to talk, it's good. A lot of the other characters I found more annoying or like they were serving their role in the story.

I think the show's politics were lacking in the detail and care they needed and it is something I really hope we could see that expanded if the show were to magically gain a second season. As for the first season I think the politics were at play were all there to serve the plot and more important to serve directly as an oppressive structure for Anis who feels like she can escape it only to be dragged in again more and more. We see that system slowly killing her soul and I think that is an effective way to show the problems with the system. The main issue is that our main villain does wish to tear down the system but we aren't given a really appropriate counter weight till like epilogue scenes wrapping up the anime.

I think another place I would have loved just a bit more care in is the queer politics of the show. The anime is explicitly gay, like we get 3 gay kisses in the 12 episode run which I mean I can't say about most other shows ever. Yet, Magirevo kinda plays off Anis's dad's homophobia is a bit, a little joke and it was upsetting to like humanize him without resolving that. We jut kinda hand waved it completely. There is some implication that maybe he is bisexual later but it's all like subtext, there is no exploring that, there is no slow moment of like understanding or whatever. We understand that the politics by the elders is like very heteronormative and we show that as like a traumatic instrument but we don't get a lot of time to really explore the queerness even just on it's own merit.

All that critical stuff said OMG I love it, the animation is so good, it's very gay, the girls are super cute, I do wish Tilly and Anis got together but like that is shipper shit [in a poly waym not in a replacing Euphie way], I the pacing is great, the action scenes are so cool, I love this anime. This is for sure going in my list of favorite animes of all time, for sure.

[hyperfixation-hopper]

WHY I HATE JANE CROCKER IN HS^2

Jane is a sad character. This is quite redundant considering all the other plights of the Harleyberts and Strilondes but she is truly tragic from a storytelling sense as she is truly missed potential, however to effectively address this we must talk about the Harleyberts as a whole compared to the Strilondes

The Strilondes are troubled, duh, these issues however are very Surface level compared to the Harleyberts (not to diminish the nuance in the way they overcome and deal with them). Rose has issues with meeting people she respects- resorting to alcoholism as a coping method- she also has a tenuous relationship with death, attempting suicide three times before sburb and once trying to reach the green sun. She also thinks that she is a burden to her mother, preventing her from reaching greatness.

Dave has a harsh relationship with his brother, the rest of the beta kids at heart love their guardians just show a resentment towards them in strife- Dave, however doesn’t and loathes the fact that he ended up with the awful abusive one, he also has been influenced by his brother’s irony roughly, leaving him unsure how to reach the topic of sexuality from a non ironic perspective. Dirk is super interesting as he treats every version of himself and just another splinter, holding himself accountable for all of them. He is a compleetttlyyyyy different can of worms for another day. Roxy is the best of all, to paraphrase dirk “she knew she had a problem and fixed it”, She was rather overbearing with her love life, either hitting on Jake or Dirk or talking about said hitting on to Jane but she changed herself for the better and was the true leader of the alpha team.

Finally! Our main girl! What makes her so special? Her direct ties to the villain, but before that just understand her situation: she has been promised all of her life that she will own a flourishing baking enterprise, she desired it so severely that she uses technology that actively damaged her (bettybother, tiaratop) in order to be Betty’s golden girl. Seriously this company becoming hers is literally her livelihood other than detectives and her friends - speaking of which! She only ever converses with 6 people, 1 is her dad, 2 are aliens, another 2 are from the future and the last one is living on an island in the deadass middle of nowhere. She has sacrificed pretty much all opportunities to make and maintain relationships (outside of these few) all for the sake of Betty Crocker™️. She Trust all of these people (except for Caliborn) and appreciates all of them greatly but still chooses crocker corp if given the chance, for example, Roxy does want to play sburb but desperately tries to stop Jane from doing it just for the chance that the batterwitch wouldn’t win, Roxy is willing to miss the chance to meet all her closest friends just so that she won’t win. Yet they all eventually end up on their planets.

So why is this important? Because Jane is presented as a character that could easily become a capitalist drone for CrockerCorp™️ or a hero for the alpha kids. At this point in time. That is crucial. Eventually she goes through her ‘ wtf even was trickster mode’ arc, blowing up at Jake, wooo trickster shenanigans, regret and then venting and lamenting to everyone but the person she hurt most ( I get her mindset in that situation but she only ever apologised to Roxy afterward and that really sucks, thats Hussie’s fault not hers). After that everyone Godtiers, great right? Take a guess at this point. )(IC transforms her into Crockertier Jane (Wow what a sick design) someone who is completely willing to do her bidding at any chance she gets. Crockertier Jane is essentially ‘the bad ending’ for where she could’ve gone in life on earth. So when she is reflecting with Callie and Jade, she recognises all of her problems, all of )(IC’s issues, how everything she’s ever wanted has been created by the same hands of the one who took so much away from everyone. And after she recovers from it in the finale, she just kinda takes a backseat, just healing everyone and helping out where she can, I truly truly wish there was a scene where she just apologises to everyone for her stuck up trust in BettyCrocker or where she confronts the batterwitch herself and cries out about all of the harm she has caused, the most loyal, most patient servant finally finds the value in the one thing that hasn’t and won’t be corrupted by her influence, her friends and their strengths, how impactful would that be? Well still I’m content with the Jane we got but she could’ve been so, so much more.

So why, after all of this hardship, after seeing her friends and family be hurt time after time by )(IC. Why would she END UP BECOMING THE EXACT SAME KIND OF PERSON THAT SHE IS???????? This already happened in a sense with Crockertier, BUT TO TURN HER INTO A RACIST DICTATOR WHEN SHE HAD LITERALLY 0 HATRED TOWARDS TROLLS??? This could’ve worked had she still have small, minimal conflict between crockercorp or her friends then maybe, just maybe it could have worked but that just isn’t there at all. Jane in Homestuck^2 is too righteous, always thinking that her family is the victim, Tavros could never do anything wrong! He must be brainwashed!

Honestly, I am not entirely against the idea of her rebuilding CrockerCorp but based upon integrity, using her knowladge and finally giving her the thing she had to wait so patiently for, but at that point in her life, seeing the consequences of ruthless megalomania and prejudice, it doesn’t seem plausible for her to fall into the same hole that she does in HS^2. Idk man I just really like this character and I hate to see people disregard her just because of how she is in HS^2 when she never acts like this in Homestuck in the first place.

[ambrossart]

Out of the Loop (Preview)

summary: eddie went home with someone after prom, and gareth is determined to figure out who it was.

pairing: eddie munson x dwm!reader word count: -- warnings: language, new relationship, eddie's girlfriend is gareth's arch nemesis, silly childhood rivalries, eddie being happy and stupidly in love, jason being an overprotective ass, chrissy being an adorable little cupcake, the reader is chrissy's best friend, the unnamed freak is named grant in this series

series masterpost | series playlist | fanfiction masterlist

On Monday morning, Gareth peddled to school like a man on a mission. 

Nothing was getting in his way today, not his mother, who had accidentally washed his Hellfire Club shirt with all his little sister’s dance clothes,

“You know what, honey, I think it looks better this way…”

not his sister, who had been hogging the bathroom all morning because she couldn’t get her hair right, 

“Look, you don’t understand the pressure I’m under right now. Becca Singer is finalizing her birthday party guest list today. I have to look my best if I wanna make the cut.”

not the weatherman, who was painfully misinformed when he called for clear, sunny skies today… 

and certainly not the piece of crap Chevy that just cut him off in the middle of the crosswalk. 

Gareth swerved out of the way and kept on peddling. The rain pelted his face in a spray of ice-cold bullets. 

Behind him, the driver yelled, “Hey, watch where you’re going, you little shit!”  

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Because Gareth was sitting on a goldmine of information right now. It was truly the scoop of the century. Eddie Munson—that’s right, Eddie “the Freak” Munson—had gone home with somebody after the senior prom. 

Who was this mysterious (not to mention incredibly lucky) woman? A curious cheerleader desperate to defy her clique? A rich girl trying to piss off her dad? A shy bookworm who wanted to act out the plot of her favorite romance novel? Who? Who? Gareth’s head was spinning! The question hungrily devoured the rest of his weekend (something Gareth wasn’t too proud to admit, of course, but hey, Sundays were always uneventful days for him). He had to get to school quickly and consult his most trusted sources. 

He found Jeff and Grant sitting at their usual table in the cafeteria. Grant was eating the school’s hot breakfast while Jeff sat with his head in his hands, lamenting the sorry state of his love life. 

“Tara’s still not talking to me. I’m pretty sure she’s gonna dump me for Patrick McKinney.” 

Grant put down his fork. “Wait, you two were dating?”

“No…” Jeff heaved a quiet sigh. “But if we were, she’d definitely dump me for Patrick.” 

Grant frowned, sympathetic yet envious of his friend’s plight. “Man, I wish Meg would stop talking to me. She had me on the phone all night yesterday. I think she wants me to be her boyfriend or something.” Grant cringed at the thought. He didn’t have the strength to put up with her. He’d barely survived prom.   

“You don’t like her?” Jeff asked. 

“Not really,” Grant answered. “I mean, yeah, she’s pretty and all, but as soon as she starts talking—”

Gareth slammed a wrinkled piece of notebook paper onto the table. The loud bang echoed through the entire cafeteria, making a few students gasp and flinch in their chairs. Jeff and Grant didn’t move in the slightest. This was typical Monday morning behavior for Gareth.

“What’s with the pink shirt?” Grant asked, unfazed 

“Doesn’t matter,” Gareth said. They had more pressing matters to discuss. He sat down and folded his hands in front of him, his blue eyes clear and focused. He wasted no time getting straight to the point: “Who’d Eddie go home with after prom?”

Jeff and Grant exchanged a subtle, secret glance. 

“How do you know Eddie went home with someone after prom?” Jeff asked. 

“Because I called him that night.” 

“Why’d you call him?” 

“Because I’m a good friend, unlike some people.” Nobody had called him asking how his night went. Gareth sat home alone on Saturday night, eating popcorn and watching old sci-fi movies in his basement, while the rest of his friends danced and had a blast at prom. It wasn’t fair. “I wanted to check in on him because I figured he might be a little depressed after getting rejected by Chrissy. Because let’s be honest here, there was no way that Chrissy was ever gonna dance with him. You all agree with me, right? I’m not just being a dick here. Like, yeah, I know Eddie’s riding high right now because he thinks this year is his year and everything, but… yeah, he was aiming a bit too high with that goal.” 

“Can you get to the point, please?” Grant said. “My breakfast is getting cold.” 

“Well, multitask, man!” Gareth grabbed Grant’s fork and threw it back onto his tray. “What, you can’t listen and eat at the same time?” 

Grant rolled his eyes and went back to his breakfast. Gareth carried on with his story: 

“So anyway, when I called him on Saturday, I expected him to sound all mopey and depressed, but he wasn’t. Yeah, Eddie wasn’t depressed at all. In fact, he sounded oddly… happy, but also a little bit distracted. You guys see where I’m going with this, right?” 

“I hate that I do,” Grant said, struggling to enjoy his food.  

“Well, that’s when I started getting suspicious. See, I could tell I didn’t have his full attention, and that’s just so unlike Eddie because he’s normally really good at maintaining proper phone etiquette. Weird, right? So then I got curious and I started listening, and… and I can’t be sure, but I think I heard a girl talking in the background.” 

“Maybe it was just the TV,” Grant said. 

Gareth shook his head. “No way… I know the difference between a TV voice and a live human voice. Someone was definitely with him.” 

“Well, did you recognize the voice?” Jeff asked. 

“No, I couldn’t hear well enough.” 

Grant’s eyes narrowed with skepticism. “And yet you’re sure it wasn’t the TV…” 

“Oh come on, it wasn’t the TV, you guys. Wake up and smell the coffee! Eddie brought a girl to his house. He brought a girl to his house. She was with him in the room while he was on the phone with me. I could hear her talking. Then Eddie started acting really weird, said he had to go, and rushed me off the phone.”

“Gross,” Grant muttered, sickened. “Yeah, these are details I did not need.” 

Gareth’s mouth fell open in a silent gasp. “Wait, do you guys think he slept with her?” and that was more than Jeff could handle. 

He buried his face in his hands and said, “Please stop. I don’t wanna go to class with these images in my head.” 

Grant shrugged. “Maybe it was just a one-night stand.” 

Jeff threw him a sharp, disapproving glare.  

“Just saying,” Grant finished, smirking. 

“No, I seriously doubt it,” Gareth went on, completely unaware. “Eddie’s not really a one-night stand kinda guy… not by choice, anyway. No, I think this might be the real deal, you guys, ‘cause listen to this: I went to go see him yesterday. Eddie wasn’t home.” 

“So?”

“So I think he was with her. I called him last night and asked him where he was all day. He said he was out running errands.” Gareth scrunched up his face, doubtful. “Since when does Eddie run errands? So I said, ‘What sort of errands were you running?’ He said he had to swing by the drugstore. I said, ‘Well, what did you need at the drugstore?’ but he wouldn’t answer that. Yeah, he was being awfully mum.” 

“Mum?” Jeff repeated to himself, mystified by his friend’s bizarre word choice. 

Grant said, “He was probably annoyed that you were digging around in his business. I know I would be.” 

“Oh yeah, he was definitely getting annoyed,” Gareth said. “Then he cut the conversation short and told me he was stepping out for the night. That’s when I knew this was serious. Eddie doesn’t just ‘step out’ on a Sunday night. He hardly goes out any night. If he’s not with us, he’s sitting at home and playing songs on his guitar. Yeah, he was definitely with her last night.” 

Grant sighed, hoping they’d finally reached the end of this long-winded story. “Well, I guess you cracked the case then, Gareth.” 

“But that’s just it, I haven’t!” Gareth said. Grant let out an exhausted moan. “I still don’t know who this girl is. You guys swear you didn’t see Eddie go home with anybody after prom?”

Another secret glance. 

“Nope,” Jeff said. “I didn’t see him go home with anyone that night.”

Gareth nodded, disappointed but not yet defeated. “Yeah, I thought you might say that. That’s why I made this.” 

He gestured toward the piece of paper on the table. Jeff picked it up and read it over. Then he passed it to Grant so he could do the same. 

“Okay, what exactly am I looking at here?” Grant asked.  

“It’s a list of suspects,” Gareth said, a proud smile on his face. “Yeah, last night I compiled a list of every girl I’ve ever seen Eddie interact with at school, and then this morning I whittled that list down to what I think are the most likely suspects.”

“Not a very long list,” Jeff said. 

“Really?” said Grant. “I was gonna say it’s too long.” 

They shared a little chuckle over that. Gareth glowered at them, unamused. He didn’t appreciate them making little jabs about their Dungeon Master’s love life, stagnant as it was. 

“You know,” Grant began with ominous deliberation, “I can’t help but notice there’s a name missing from this list.” 

Gareth's head snapped back in surprise. “Who?” 

“You know who,” Grant said. Beside him, Jeff was holding in a smile. 

A disturbing chill crept up Gareth's spine. Then—

BAM!

Your name cracked down from above like a fiendish lightning bolt, striking Gareth and making all the little hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. For a second, he could see your name so clearly. It loomed before him, ugly and terrible, festering with puss and crawling with maggots, getting pecked savagely by vultures and other scavengers. It made him retch with disgust. 

“Oh, very funny…” 

“Hey, I’m just saying,” Grant said, “there’s no denying that she’s a likely suspect.” 

“In fact,” Jeff continued, “some might say she’s the most likely suspect.” 

“Yeah, maybe back in middle school,” Gareth said, scoffing, “but Eddie hasn’t so much as looked at her in years.” 

Except for that one time, Gareth thought, remembering the mournful look on his friend’s face that day. They were all eating lunch when your laughter suddenly sprang up from the other side of the cafeteria, obnoxious and shrill. Eddie glanced your way and his eyes darkened with such hollow sadness. It was as if someone had died.   

But that didn’t mean anything, Gareth decided, so he shoved the memory away. 

“All right, look, I’ll admit we lost him briefly for that one summer. I dunno how she did it, but somehow she got her claws in him real deep and he was completely under her spell. I won’t deny that. But then Eddie woke up and saw her for what she really is—an ugly green hag. At first, she appears as this beautiful, enchanting woman, but underneath that guise, she’s a wretched old witch who thrives on torment. Yeah, Eddie got over her a long time ago,” and Gareth refused to waste another thought on it.

He snatched the paper from Grant and laid it out in front of him. “Now, here’s what I’m thinking: if we split this up among the three of us, we can get through this list by lunch and then confront Eddie with our findings.” 

“Yeah, we’re not doing that,” Grant said. 

Gareth frowned. “Why not?” 

“Because we already know who it is.”

Gareth’s eyes widened in surprised anger. “I KNEW IT! I FUCKING KNEW IT! I knew you two were messing with me this whole time. Sitting there with your smug little faces. Making your little jokes. You know what, screw you guys, I don’t even want your help anymore.” 

He stuffed the paper back into his bag, climbed to his feet, and stomped off.

Jeff said, “Shoulda gone to prom, man.”

“Well, no one would go with me,” Gareth replied, dejected. He pushed through the double doors and was gone. 

Afterward, Grant picked up his milk carton and took a few slow slips.

“You know what,” he said thoughtfully, “Gareth should’ve asked Y/N to prom.” 

Jeff chuckled quietly to himself. “Well, she did need a date… Shit, should we have just told him?”

“No,” Grant said. “No, this is something Gareth needs to see with his own eyes.”

⏩ preview #2

SERIES MASTERPOST

FANFICTION MASTERLIST

unfortunately, i no longer do taglists. if you want to stay updated on my fics, you can follow me and/or subscribe to my posts. thank you!

[fierceawakening]

You know, the more I think about my mom’s behavior, the more the thing Forbidden YouTube calls “vulnerable narcissism” makes sense to me as an explanation, whether or not there is such a thing above and beyond stuff this one person I am related to does.

That being that literally everything is bad to or for her. My dad got implants put in his mouth and now she struggles to hear him, but instead of “oh fuck, this is an unfortunate confluence of disabilities it’s “I can’t understand him! Fierce, can you understand him! It’s just SO UPSETTING THAT I CANT UNDERSTAND MY OWN HUSBAND clearly the guy doing the implants is a HORRIBLE RIP OFF. I tried to convince him NOT TO SEE THAT GUY but NO.”

Or worse, “WHY doesn’t he pronounce words CLEARLY,” knowing he had speech therapy. Which is just mean, and would be even if people with normal hearing struggled to understand him too. But we don’t. Or at least I don’t.

All this when he’s in the middle of a surgery procedure with stages so switching dentists is a bad idea unless he’s doing it wrong or something.

Like it’s unfair she’s hearing impaired, just like it’s unfair I have impaired mobility. But no one failed to put a curb cut in a useful place AT me. I Can be annoyed at whoever designed or built it, but I shouldn’t lament my plight in ways that make other people feel bad but can’t be solved. All I can do is decide if I want to walk around to find a cut or if I don’t.

On some level my attitude is my responsibility. I have to decide to deal, or to make a change.

Which is likely why The Forbidden YouTubes say not to try to convince your family member or partner to change. Because if they’re fundamentally convinced things are bad AT them, that’s a distortion that no one can undistort but them. By choice.

Which is a thing I did by choice when I decided to work on my own mental health. I tried very hard to ask myself what I could expect from other people and what I’d need to provide to them for our relationships to be positive, and thought really hard about how to get what I needed if I was asking too much.

It was kind of painful to withdraw when I still felt hurt, and it took a lot of getting used to. Now, though? “Hey Fierce, I feel for you but I’m overwhelmed myself/I need to go for dinner with friends/blah” “Oh okay, I’m gonna talk to another friend/play video games/exercise until im too exhausted to feel like shit. Thanks for listening.” And I still feel kinda bad but that’s not a betrayal. Friend left because Friend has own life. Which is just as scary and confusing as mine is.

When I see Tumblr saying that people just GET to not show empathy, or just GET to offer non reciprocal relationships, it really sounds to me like what’s being said is “you don’t have to bother trying not to hurt others, you poor baby.”

And I just… no. You get to think about whether someone’s demands are too much, sure. You get to decide the answer is yes.

But that may actually mean “the compassionate thing to do is cut this person off, because I’m unable to be the kind of partner or friend they need unless I become better at reciprocal relationships, which is hard for me.”

[watching-pictures-move]

Movie Review | The Spell (Phillips, 1977)

This movie involves a teenage girl being bullied for her weight, and I realize that the average American in the '70s was in better shape, but she's not even that fat. Like, I understand that her classmates will bully her because children can be little monsters, and certainly I experienced my share of exclusionary treatment and subtle cruelty growing up, so I can definitely relate to her plight in that respect. And were I in her place I'd cry all the way to my giant mansion because have you seen this girl's house? (I did not live in a mansion for the record.) And certainly I can expect her sister can give her a hard time because children can be little monsters. But it's kind of messed up what a huge jerk her dad is about the whole thing, making a big deal about hiring a governess to get her to lose weight and eventually proposing to ship her off to England. Perhaps she would benefit from a loving father, but such an idea escapes him.

Anyway, her mother is the only person in the movie aside from her gym teacher who treats her like an actual person, so we view the proceedings from her vantage point. So there is a bit of plausible deniability when the daughter starts running around in a cape and the ill she wishes on her classmates and others manifests with her desired results. But not a lot because the TV-movie direction isn't too big on subtlety, and some of the acts are more obviously the result of magical powers. Perhaps a classmate falling off a rope can be a genuine accident, but it's a little harder to buy that an old lady just happened to have steam shoot from her ears. Although the shade of red her face turned did match my complexion when I tried that scorpion pepper hot sauce that my Trinidadian coworker brought to work one time, so perhaps there is some ambiguity here. I got what I deserved, it even had "Scorpion" in the name if I recall correctly, so I don't know what else I expected.

Anyway, as a Carrie remix, this is pretty enjoyable. I've enjoyed what I've seen of TV movies of this era thanks to their sturdy sense of dramatics, and I think this one nicely foregrounds the performances of Lee Grant and Susan Myers as the mother and possible witch daughter. Grant's popped up on the Criterion Channel before, not just with her acting credits but also her directorial work. I unfortunately missed seeing most of the films that were featured, but I found Down and Out in America to be a pretty powerful documentary. Myers I've apparently seen before in Revenge of the Nerds, where she played one of the Pis, the sorority against whom the boys inflict what would now be rightfully recognized as sex crimes, and not one of the Omega Mus, the sorority the boys team up with in the musical finale, and not one of the Lambda Lambda Lambdas, which is the boys' fraternity so no girls allowed. Man, remember Revenge of the Nerds? What a movie.

As this the '70s, the brownest of the decades (which I assume is what President Carter's "Malaise" speech was referring to), we get the big collars, loud yet somehow clashing earth tones and overly busy decor, which all make for a pretty cozy aesthetic to curl up into. And while the witchiness isn't given the same extravagance or explicitness as De Palma's film, this substitutes those things for some effective small screen style, placing the emphasis on editing and lo fi trickery during the climactic witchy showdown.

[anthonysstupiddailyblog]

Anthony's Stupid Daily Blog (909): Sat 14th Sep 2024

Tonight I rang up Dad and asked if he fancied heading over to Boldon to try out Tim Horton’s a fast food place I’ve known about for a while but never gotten round to try it. I picked him up and found that he was still in incredibly high spirits after watching Trump make a fucking buffoon of himself in his debate against Kamala Harris. It’s still unbelievable to me that he would agree to debate someone without cognitive impairment because it was only ever going to lead to disaster. apparently his aides told him not to go near her ethnicity and not to resort to personal attacks during the debate and that’s why he performed so badly because that’s all he knows how to do in debates (plus he wasn’t even able to stick to his advisors plan as he DID mention her race and resort to personal attacks during the debate). I largely find Trump to be a tragic figure now and the humour doesn’t come from him any more it comes from his staunch defenders, some of whom are now legitimately saying that Trump said what he said about immigrants eating pets in order to get people to look closer into the plight of the people in Springfield, Ohio which, according to the MAGA supporters people cared about until Trump pushed them in that direction. I hate having to give Tucker Carlson the oxygen of publicity but after the debate he said that PETA should now fully enforce Trump since he’s anti-pet eating and if they don’t that means they must be all for the consumption of pets. If this is that case Tucker should rally behind Kamala Harris if she comes out and say she’s anti-paedophila or else by Carlson’s logic that means he’s pro paedophila right? Anywho the Tim Hortons was…okay I guess but nothing I would go out of my way to have again. This Tim Hortons is right next door to a McDonalds which I have to say is right up there with TNA going head to head with Monday Night Raw in terms of brain dead business strategies. I understand Tim Hortons is popular in Canada but given that they’re still relatively unknown in the UK maybe it’s not the best strategy to try to sell people burgers and fries right next to the most populated burgers and fries company in the world. When I got home I discovered that Lucy had climbed into my bed and had a piss which seeped all the way brought so blanket, the mattress cover be onto the fucking mattress. Good god her piss must be more powerful than the acidic Xenomorph blood from Alien. I had to go to the supermarket to buy some new blankets and I’ll probably have to buy a new mattress now. Although you could argue this is my fault for not letting the dog out for a piss before I went for food the blame can’t be focused squarely on me because I have it on good authority via a Facebook user with no profile picture that the citizens of Sunderland are eating the pets and that’s why I didn’t let Lucy out. 

[whileiamdying]

I’m Still Here review – loving family negotiates the horror of Brazil’s military rule Walter Salles’s first drama feature since 2012 tells the story of the Paivas, whose sunny 70s existence is wrecked by the arrest and disappearance of their father

I'm Still Here. Photograph: Alile Onawale

The Paivas are a liberal middle-class household in sun-splashed Rio de Janeiro, generally joyous in the way of all happy families. They like laughing and dancing and playing volleyball by the sea. But it’s the early 1970s; Brazil is under military rule and anyone deemed a threat risks immediate arrest. When the Paivas (mum, dad, five kids) huddle together for a photo on the beach it’s a safe bet that what they are recording is the end of an era.

Possibly director Walter Salles makes a little too much of the family’s good cheer, emphasising the sunshine so that we feel more acutely the cold rain when it falls. The Brazilian film-maker knew the Paivas as a child and therefore his fact-based account of their plight is understandably compromised and prone to a streak of sentimentality. Nonetheless, I’m Still Here (which is emphatically not to be confused with the spoof Joaquin Phoenix documentary of the same name) remains a sombre, heartfelt drama about the nation’s disappeared. Incredibly, it’s Salles’s first dramatic feature since 2012’s On the Road. The man has been missed, although not as much as some others.

Brazilian actor Selton Mello initially takes centre stage as Rubens Paiva, a former Labour Party congressman who is active in the underground opposition, organising safe houses and briefing foreign journalists. In the grand scheme of things his crimes aren’t so great, but the country runs on fear and everyone is a suspect. The Paivas discuss getting out, but that’s a big step, and to what end? Most likely, says Rubens, this particular storm will blow through.

The central abduction scene superbly shows the way in which eternal horror can invade every domesticity - not bursting upon it like a B-movie monster but sidling in with a faintly apologetic air. The oblivious children continue clumping up and down the stairs, while three goons loiter in the kitchen, not quite sure where to put themselves. They explain that Rubens is needed for a few hours at most. Rubens’ wife Eunice (Fernanda Torres) asks them if they’ve had any lunch.

Once Rubens has been whisked away for questioning, it is Eunice’s turn to step to the front. Torres gives a terrific, layered performance as the Paivas’ Mother Courage, straining to keep the household ticking over and constantly fighting for her husband’s return – or, failing that, official acknowledgement of his death. It’s not Torres’s fault that the drama loses some of its shape and velocity in the second half, because it’s hard to sustain the suspense around an absence and difficult to tell a tale that has no decisive resolution. Yet it is here perhaps that Salles’s closeness to the Paivas pays off. He cares for these people and makes us care for them, too.

Based on the book by Rubens and Eunice’s son Marcelo, I’m Still Here opens to the sight of checkpoints and army lorries and from there proceeds to follow its ill-starred family down the years, all the way to a lovely, moving coda in 2014. The Paivas continue to gather for photos and try to find enjoyment where they can. When a visiting news photographer asks them to look sad for the camera, they not only refuse, they can barely contain their amusement. Salles’s imperfect, hobbled film tells us that hope springs eternal and that joy is a given and that most happy families will find a way to survive.

I’m Still Here screened at the Venice film festival.