#and the other previously suggested things I was going to use for something else

[mizuthe-cat]

I wanna make a game but I don't know what to put in it

what should I put in it

[tavolgisvist]

'I look in the mirror'

At the Cavern, 1963, photo by Michael Ward

Photo by Mike McCartney

August 13, 1966, photo by Bob Bonis

We wrote with two guitars, John and I. And, as I’ve mentioned previously, the joy of that was that I was left-handed while he was right handed, so I was looking in a mirror and he was looking in a mirror. We would always tune up, have a ciggie, drink a cup of tea, start playing some stuff, look for an idea. Normally, one or the other of us would arrive with a fragment of a song. ‘Please Please Me’ was a John idea. John liked the double meaning of ‘please’. Yeah, ‘please’ is, you know, pretty please. ‘Please have intercourse with me. So, pretty please, have intercourse with me, I beg you to have intercourse with me.’ He liked that, and I liked that he liked that. This was the kind of thing we’d see in each other, the kind of thing in which we were matched up. We were in sync.

(Paul McCartney, about Please Please Me in The Lyrics, 2021)

gifs by javelinbk

A lot of what we had going for us was that we were both good at noticing the stuff that just pops up, and grabbing it. And the other thing is that John and I had each other. If he was sort of stuck for a line, I could finish it. If I was stuck for somewhere to go, he could make a suggestion. We could suggest the way out of the maze to each other, which was a very handy thing to have. We inspired each other.

(Paul McCartney, about Eight Days A Week in The Lyrics, 2021)

gifs by nikidontsurf

When John and I met, the first year of our friendship was spent talking about these cover versions, the records we loved, and then playing them again and again. As we got to know each other, we practised these various covers until one day the conversation went, ‘You know, I’ve written one or two songs.’ And he said, ‘Yeah, so have I.’ That gave us something in common that was itself wholly uncommon. I went to a school of a thousand boys and I’d never met anyone who said he’d written a song. Mine were just in my head. So were John’s. We took each other by surprise. And then the logical extension was, ‘Well, maybe we could write one together.’ So that’s how we started. And we became versions of each other.

(Paul McCartney, about The Other Me in The Lyrics, 2021)

gifs by stewy

Q: "Can I ask you about Lewis Carroll?" A: "Oh, Lewis Carroll. I always admit to that because I love 'Alice In Wonderland' and 'Alice Through The Looking Glass.' But I didn't even know he'd written anything else. I was that ignorant. I just happened to get those for birthday presents as a child and liked them. And I usually read those two about once a year, because I still like them."

(John Lennon, June 16, 1965, interview for BBC)

Paul McCartney in his garden at Cavendish Avenue, 7; photo by Barry Lategan (for Observer 'What Makes A Man Stylish?', July 1968)

I think of the imagined world of Lewis Carroll [Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There] that John and I both loved so much.

(Paul McCartney, about I’ll Get You in The Lyrics, 2021)

We’d been together so much that if you had a question, we would both pretty much come up with the same answer. [about their hitchhike to Spain by way of Paris] <…> It’s a bit crude, but it’s fair to say that, in general, I’d had a good life and John hadn’t. His life had been tougher, and he had to develop a harder shell than I did. He was quite a cynical guy but, as they say, with a heart of gold. A big softy, but his shield was hard. So that was very good for the two of us. Opposites attract. I could calm him down, and he could fire me up. We could see things in each other that the other needed to be complete.

(Paul McCartney about Ticket To Ride in The Lyrics, 2021)

Sometimes I look in the mirror Is nobody there? But I just keep on staring and staring No Can it be? Can it be? Can it be? And if I look in the mirror And nobody´s there But I just keep on staring, and staring No Is it me? Is it me? Is it me?

(John Lennon, circa 1977)

[sommerbueckers]

My Brother's Best Friend Pt4

I immediately disregarded my homework at the sound of my phone ringing. I had been expecting a call from Paige ever since her game against Xavier went off, Uconn coming out with an unsurprising win.

Her smug face appeared on the screen, she had changed into her pajamas and the camera was propped up on what I assumed to be a desk or table.

"Summer Collymor."

"Paige Bueckers."

"Did you watch the game?" she asked.

"Nope," I said, "tv was unplugged as promised."

She leaned back in her chair and laughed, shaking her head. "Whatever you say."

I laughed as well, nervously toying around with the pen I had previously tossed aside with my notebook. This was the first time ever that Paige and I had facetimed, and despite our track record of never having a dry conversation, I couldn't help but worry that I'd run out of things to talk about.

"So..." she said with a smile.

"So...?" I repeated.

"How was your day?" she asked softly.

"Hmm it was okay. Practice was really great though, we got a few new girls who tried out for the second season and they're really good. I'm hoping they'll tryout again for the comp squad in the spring."

"That's good. You're pacing yourself right?"

"What do you mean?" I frowned.

"With putting the routines together and studying for midterms and all, I just want to make sure you aren't stressing yourself out" she shrugged shyly.

"Aww, are you worried about me?" I smiled.

"Definitely not, who am I gonna make fun of if you're all busy and stressed?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Girl bye, look in the mirror and you'll find all the jokes you need" I laughed.

"Ohh you thought that was good huh? You weren't saying all that when I was all over you the other day" she replied cockily, crossing her arms and staring at the camera.

"So you admit that you were all over me?"

"We were all over each other."

"Mhm. If I remember correctly, it was you who made the first move," I reminded her, "so shut all that shit up."

She playfully rolled her eyes and grabbed the phone, moving to lay down on her bed. A moment of silence washed over us as I watched her watch me, both of our smiles slowly growing at the eye contact. I didn't want to be the first to back down but I could feel the tension becoming too much for me to bear. I pretended to read over a paragraph in my chem textbook, not wanting her to notice the blush that had crept onto my face. It'd go straight to her head.

"What're you wearing?" her voice was low and suggestive through the phone, but her face displayed an expression of innocence.

"A t-shirt" I said, tilting the camera up as I displayed my 2019 cheer championship shirt.

She smirked, "What else?"

"Just my underwear" I said innocently.

"Oh yeah?" she raised her eyebrows. When I nodded my head she continued, "Can I see?"

I thought about it for a moment, lifting up to make sure my door was closed before making my decision. I pulled my covers down and raised the camera, showing off the bright pink thong that I had on.

"Mm mm mm!" Paige exclaimed dramatically, shaking her head with her fist to her mouth.

"Oh God shut up!" I laughed, putting the camera back down.

"What? You look good" she complimented simply.

"Thanks, wish you were here to prove it though" I said lowly.

I didn't know where my sudden boldness came from, maybe it was because I knew Paige wasn't actually here and I had no reason to be nervous. Anything I said or did right now would surely be forgotten by the time she returned for Christmas break.

"Just touch yourself and pretend its me" she laughed, but her eyes carefully scanned my face for my reaction.

"You would say something like that" I shook my head.

"Hey, desperate times call for desperate measures" she defended with her hand up. She went quiet for a moment when I didn't say anything. "Are you doing it?" she asked with high eyebrows, surprise laced in her voice.

"No! You're so dirty," I laughed, "I was getting comfortable."

"Mhm" she nodded.

"...Did you really want me to?"

She shrugged her shoulders, not looking at the phone. She definitely wanted me to. I bit my lip as I considered it. Paige was staring at me quizzically through the phone with one of her eyebrows cocked. I was getting turned on at the thought of pleasing myself, the thought of Paige's voice in my ear as she told me what to do and how to do it.

"Okay" I said, letting out a breath.

"Huh?"

"I'll do it" I elaborated.

"You don't have to, I was just-"

"I want to" I interuppted, rubbing my legs together under the covers.

"Really?"

"Yes, what do I do?" I asked.

"Wait, have you never done it before?" she sounded surprised.

"No...is that bad?"

Paige laughed and sat up a little straighter in her bed, "No Summer it's not bad it's just...surprising?" she corrected.

"Why is it surprising?"

"I don't know, I don't know."

"Alright whatever," I smiled, "you ready to do this?"

"Are you ready?" she redirected the question.

"Yeah go, go" I encouraged.

Paige laughed lowly, shaking her head. I moved to switch off my lamp and then laid back down. Paige had gotten comfortable as well; her head rested back against her pillow and her wrist was draped over her forehead.

"Okay now...run your hands up and down your thighs" she instructed after thinking for a moment. "Just your fingertips, slow" she added quickly.

I did as I was told, softly trailing my fingertips up to the edge of my underwear and then trailing them back down to my knees. It felt like electricity coursing through my fingers and leaving burn marks on my skin where they touched. I imagined it was Paige's hands, touching me with utmost delicacy as she always did.

"You like the way that feels?" she asked.

"Yeah" I answered.

I couldn't help but feel embarrassed at what I was doing. Not only was I masturbating for the first time in my life, but I was doing it on the phone with Paige. She couldn't see me, my phone sat next to my head facing toward the ceiling, close enough to where she could hear any noise that I made.

"I want you to move your hands up and down your cunt...be gentle" she said.

I bit back a laugh at the bluntness of her words and moved my fingers over my clothed clit. I was gentle like she told me to be, hardly pressing into myself at all.

"Do it three more times, and then I want you to stop."

I could feel myself growing wetter, hotter, needier. I bit down hard on my lip, preventing shaky breaths from leaving my mouth. My clit was becoming swollen, my entire pussy throbbing with the desire to be touched by me...by Paige.

She had fucked me so good before she left and I was aching for her to do it again. I wanted to feel every inch of her, her sweaty body on mine as we went round after round.

"Take two fingers and rub in that circular motion that I know you like" she said, I could practically see the smile on her face as she spoke. "Think about me when you do it, think about my fingers touching and teasing you."

I was even more turned on at the thought of Paige hovering over me, her long blonde hair falling like a curtain over me and tickling my face.

"How wet are you Summer?" she asked lowly.

I could feel my wetness grow and begin to drip out of me, if I told her how wet I was right now she'd never let me hear the end of it. A small whimper slipped past my lips, a cry of desperation.

"So wet" I breathed out.

"Yeah...good."

"Let's get those pretty panties out the way then" she smirked.

I pushed my hand down into my underwear all too quickly, dying to feel a more intense friction.

"You're rushing, I can hear you. Slow down or I'm gonna stop" she warned, her voice serious.

I stilled my motions.

"That's a good girl" she cooed condescendingly.

I was going to come quick, I knew I was. Paige talking me through this had to be the hottest thing ever. After a good game tonight I knew she deserved to unravel me the way she was, to listen to me crumble to pieces from instructions she was giving me.

"Slowly...put your fingers in. I want it so slow it almost hurts to do, you hear me?" she said.

"Mhm..."

"Words."

"Yes, yes I hear you" I whined.

I didn't waste anymore time inserting my ring and middle fingers, a dragged out gasp filling the room. I tightly pressed my lips together, that gasp turning into a moan.

All I could think about was Paige's proud face smirking down at me as her finger repeatedly pushed in and out of me, hitting all the right spots. I imagined her lips as they connected with mine, and then they moved to my jaw, and then to my neck, and down my chest...

"Go faster for me."

I ignored the slight stinging pain I felt as I pumped my fingers faster, it was enough for me to clench my jaw, but not enough to stop.

"Fuck you sound so good" Paige grunted, running her hands through her hair. "God I miss you."

I didn't bother to stop the smile that pulled at my lips, there were so many feelings running through me that I didn't know what to do with myself.

I ran my hand up my side to my chest, using it to squeeze my tits. I could hear my fingers going in and out, my juices running down my hand.

"Do you wanna come?" she asked.

"Uh huh" I moaned out desperately.

"I want to see you" Paige said, staring at the phone.

I didn't make a move for my phone, I could feel my walls tightening around my fingers. I would come any second.

"Summer," she called out, "be a good girl and let me see you."

I snatched the phone off the bed and held it in my hand, sitting up to lean on my elbow so she could see my face.

Her eyes were dark when they met mine through the screen, she licked her lips and smiled. "Come for me pretty baby"

That'll do it.

My mouth fell open as I released all over my fingers. It was almost as if my entire existence was slipping away, like everything I had accomplished was becoming undone. My body shook for a moment, and it felt like I was lying on clouds taking shots of Pink Whitney with Jesus Christ. Nothing was real.

If that's what giving myself an orgasm felt like, I was upset that I hadn't done it sooner. I laid there for a moment, coming back to my sense as I came down from my high.

"You okay over there?" Paige asked, her voice laced with amusement.

I laughed and brought the phone closer to my face, playfully narrowing my eyes. I got up from the bed and headed into the bathroom, setting up the phone to wash my hands.

"I've actually never done that before...like, talked someone through it like that I mean" Paige confessed.

"Aw, I took your phone sex virginity" I teased, rubbing the soap into my hands.

She snorted, "You're a cornball."

"Yes, yes, so I've been told."

IM SO SORRY THIS IS SO FKN RUSHED LIKEEEEE

but at least i tried yk

i haven't been in the smut mood ??????🫨🫨🫨🫨🫨

but like I told yall I need a little more practice, I just can't tell what's too much and what isn't enough WHERES THE LINE ????

but okay like any suggestions like...what do yall want to see next🙄?

[sir-phineas-lost]

Claudia Deserves Respect

One of the things I think the last(?) season of The Dragon Prince did right was giving Claudia her due as a character. For a long time now, I feel like both the show and the fandom has had the bad habit of either demonizing or infantalizing Claudia and her motives. Even the corners or the fandom who are sympathetic towards her tend to go on about how she is "emotionally immature" or naive and easily manipulated because she wants her dad back and listens to Aaravos when Viren is gone, but that has never been my read on her.

The big shift in Claudia and Aaravos' relationship this season happens when they are at the Moon-Nexus and Aaravos has a rare moment of introspection and vulnerability with her, confessing that he doesn't really believe that Viren is going to be there. This is obviously very surprising for Aaravos to admit because he has no reason to do so other than genuine guilt about manipulating Claudia after bonding with her and also breaking her and Terry up, but Claudia surprises us even more by admitting that she has already done the introspection to realize that her dad is not going to be waiting for her at the end of this. This is one of those moments that I have seen people argue makes Claudia a passive puppet because "she just wants Aaaravos to tell her what to do" but I disagree. It is important to know that until this point Aaravos has not given Claudia any reason for why inverting the Moon-Nexus would be a good idea other than the vague suggestion that Viren might be there, but she has already come to the conclusion that he isn't on her own. When she answers Aaravos with "Good question. Why don't you answer it?" she is not making Aaravos think for her, she is telling him: "I know you didn't suggest this for my benefit, I know you have an agenda, now spill it". In this moment, Claudia demands to hear exactly why Aaravos is doing this and she decides that his is a cause worth pursuing. Aaravos was open with her and she decided for herself that she is 100% on-board with tearing down the entire structure of the world and making the cosmic assholes suffer.

This is also not demonizing her in any way because it is perfectly in-line with her previously established good traits. Claudia has consistently been the most vocal about voicing the injustice of this world in how poorly the elves and dragons have treated humanity so tearing down the cosmic order is not framed as her just wanting the world to end but her usual way of standing up to injustice by breaking taboos.

Her last big scene of the arc is her confronting Soren and Corvus on top of the Storm Spire where they chased her down with the intent of killing her and she lets them go saying that she is still herself, still nice. This is also something I see a lot of people framing as negative because it is Claudia "holding on to a false image of herself" but I see it as her confirming something about herself. Claudia has changed a lot, but the one thing that remains true about her is that she is nice. She will prioritize her loved ones over all else, but when she has an opportunity to be good that doesn't conflict with her larger goals, she will take it. In this moment she is furious with Soren, who all but confirmed that he will kill her when he gets the chance and not even a sworn oath from his king will stop him. She has every reason to toss him off the edge to be broken the same way their father was, but she doesn't. When Claudia is in control, she chooses to be kind, even to people who are never kind to her.

So if this is the end of the show, I am glad with the position it left my favorite character, because it respects her in both her motives and her autonomy. She is still out there, still scheming to bring down the injustice that our heroes won't even acknowledge. And she is confirmed to not do this out of blind devotion or even blind love for Aaravos, but a genuine conviction in that goal. And above all, she is still the wonderful person who proves that you don't have to be a paragon or follow the arbitrary rules of "good" to be a good person. To just be "nice".

[wingsofachampion]

OOC

I'm going to preface this by saying that I'm not mad at anyone. I love the Pokemon IRL community, and I'm so so happy to be a part of it. And I don't plan on leaving for good anytime soon.

But. Look.

This is getting out of hand.

I've been here since November of 2022, and I haven't seen things being this bad in the community since The Incident.

I'm trying as hard as I can to hold things together, even when it seems like everything's falling apart. But it's getting really exhausting.

So that's why I'm making this post.

There's a lot of problems happening in this community, and I'm going to try to address at least a few of them in this post.

So, here we go.

Part 1: Anon Hate & Other Harassment

There's unfortunately a lot of this in the community. I've been a victim of it myself.

Anon hate is a serious problem that has led several pokebloggers to completely disable anon asks or even leave the community entirely.

I'm not sure how to combat this, unfortunately, other than blocking them as they come, but that's an imperfect solution.

There's also been direct harassment, too, not just through anon asks. I'm unsure how to tackle that either, but I'm spreading awareness just in case.

Part 2: Lack of Engagement

There's a ton of blogs that get little to no engagement, and not for a lack of trying. Pixelated made a great post on this already, so I won't rehash it much.

My main advice is to send asks. That goes both ways. If you see someone struggling to get engagement, send them an ask, brighten their day!

And if you're struggling to get engagement, send asks to as many blogs as you feel comfortable. That way, you put your name out there.

I know it can be scary to send asks, but if it helps, you can send one to me! I won't bite!

Part 3: "Cliques"

There's a lot of subcommunities in the Pokemon IRL community. Eebydeebies, Fallers, Blueberry Academy, and so on. And that's great! What's not so great, though, is how some of these can be rather cliquey.

Sometimes, it's hard to join a subcommunity. Sometimes they push you away, are just difficult to fit in a new blog, or something else.

I've been trying to remedy this in the eebydeeby subcommunity by having Gen send asks to every new eeby blog I can find, but I'm not in every subcommunity, so I can't do this for all of them.

What I suggest to remedy this is, those in subcommunities, reach out! If you see someone trying to join, reach out and welcome them in! Send them asks! Tell other people in the subcommunity about them! Let them know that they're welcome there.

Part 4: Lack of Warnings During MMM

This one is something that mostly just affects me personally, but Muse Mixup Madness has been extremely stressful for me because people keep completely changing up their blogs with little to no warning.

One of my worst triggers is post-apocalypse, and I've been jumpscared by this several times during Muse Mixup Madness by blogs that were previously safe.

Please warn what your Muse Mixup Madness stuff will contain, and please use content warnings, too.

Part 5: New Blogs Dying

This is one of the ones I'm saddest about. Almost every day, there's at least one new person trying to join Pokemon IRL, but 75% of the time their blog dies within a week.

I recommend supporting newcomers as much as you can. If you see a newcomer, send them an ask! Interact with them! Boost them if you feel comfortable with it! Don't let them feel so discouraged that they leave so soon.

I recommend checking the reblogs on realpokemon's pinned post every so often. It's a fantastic way to find new blogs.

Part 6: Exhaustion & A Call for Help

I've been trying very very hard to fix things, but I'm only human (as much as I wish I was a Meganium). I can't do everything by myself.

So I'm asking for help.

I have two blogs primarily made for boosting. @pkmnirlblogboosting and @tacklrnews. Former is OOC, while the latter is IC.

Pkmnirlblogboosting is for boosting blogs that either have less than 75 followers, or are less than a month old. If anyone wants to help me run it and boost blogs, feel free to send me a message asking if you can be added to pkmnirlblogboosting.

Tacklrnews is for reporting on events that are happening in-character. Its primary purpose is to boost stuff happening on people's blogs that they want more people to see and interact with. If anyone wants to help me with this, feel free to send me a message asking if you can be added to tacklrnews.

A caveat with tacklrnews: It's fully in-character, so you'll need to create a character for it to be a part of Pelipper's little news agency. It also writes articles on Pokemon RPC and Pokeask blogs, so to people in those communities, this offer is open to you all, too.

I hope these will both be helpful in revitalizing the Pokemon IRL community.

Part 7: Moving Forward

So, how do we move forward?

I think we should be more supportive towards others in this community. Less OOC anon hate and harassment, more engagement and boosting. Tell your fellow blogrunners how much you appreciate their blogs! Let them know they have people who care about them.

I love this community so, so much. I don't want it to fall apart and die. I'm doing everything in my power to keep it standing, but I'm just one person. I need your help, too.

Together, we can make this community better.

That's about all I had to say.

If you've read this far, thank you. I really appreciate you taking the time to read through this.

I'd appreciate any reblogs to spread this around, but don't feel pressured to if you don't want to.

I hope you all have a wonderful Pride Month.

-Bench

[lostdreamr-blog1]

Roadside Assistance

Summary: When you breakdown on the side of the road and only one pilot seems to answer the phone.

Pairings: Jake Seresin x Reader

Warnings: Some minor swear words, lots of fluff ahead.

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: So sorry I’ve been MIA. But tomorrow is my birthday and I thought I would all gift you with one of my WIP’s! Hoping to be writing again more regularly! As always, my inbox is open for you. Thanks for reading!!

Your car made a noise you didn’t even know was possible to make. While that might have seemed a tad concerning, you didn’t give it much thought as your car still drove fine. Yeah, there might have been a few lights on the dashboard, but you viewed them more as suggestions to do something later.

You happily continued towards your destination, singing along to a song on the radio, when your car decided to stop working. The entire machine seemed to shut off, causing panic to rise up. It was kind enough to at least give you enough momentum to pull off to the side of the road.

A few choice words spilled out of your mouth as you tried and failed to restart your car. You looked up and saw you were in the middle of nowhere, stranded midday in the California heat.

A sensible thing would have been to call a tow truck, but something about being stuck in a vehicle with a stranger didn’t sit right with you. So, you did the next best thing and started calling your teammates to see if one of them would be kind enough to come and save you.

You started with Rooster and prayed your mustached friend was by his phone. Luck didn’t seem to be on your side as you were met with his voicemail. The same went for nearly every other person on your team until you were left with one number.

You couldn’t exactly fault them. It was the team’s one Saturday off and everyone was taking advantage of it. Something you were in the middle of doing until your car decided it wanted to be dramatic today.

The thought to take your chances with a tow truck came back up as you debated on calling the last number. Even if he did answer, you know you would never hear the end of it.

Who knew how close the nearest shop was and thinking about either trying to make small talk with a stranger or being stuck in an awkward silence, sent shivers down your spine. So, you dialed the number and prayed he wasn’t in his normal, annoying mood.

“Seresin.” He answered on the second ring, catching you completely off guard at the quickness of it.

“Umm, hi. Yeah, it’s me. Look I wouldn’t be calling unless it was a near emergency, and it seems like no one has a phone today. But I’m stuck on the side of the road and need someone to come get me.” You tapped your fingers nervously on the steering wheel as you quickly explained what was going on.

“Side of the road? Are you okay? What happened?” The urgency in his voice made you freeze. Hangman didn’t care about anything but the brand of hair gel he uses. Which led to you asking, “Are you drunk?”

An exasperated sigh was your answer. “No, Y/N. I’m as sober as a judge. No can you tell me what’s going on?”

Your eyebrows furrowed at the saying but answered him anyway. “My car broke down on the way to this beach and it won’t start.”

There was a long pause, “And you called me?” You threw your hands up in the air, knowing he couldn’t see your reaction.

“As I previously stated, no one else answered. I also don’t want to call a tow truck for personal reasons. Can you help or do I need to start walking?” You tried not to sound irritated at him, but the heat was starting to get to you.

“Yeah, not a problem. Send me your location and I’ll be there as soon as I can. Are your hazard lights on?” You looked down at your car and started trying to find them.

“Uh, yeah.” You didn’t miss the chuckle on the other end of the line, letting you know he caught your lie.

“I’ll be there shortly. Don’t get out of your car until I get there.” You gave him a hum in response and hung up. After a few more minutes of searching, you held your fist up in victory as you found your hazard lights.

It didn’t take too long for your teammate to pull up behind you and you hoped that whatever the problem was, he could fix it quickly. You got out of your car to greet him, and he took his aviators off and looked you over, making sure you were still in one piece.

“You good?” There he went again, asking about your well-being. The jet fumes must be getting to him.

“Yeah, just hot.” You looked away before you saw his smirk at your response

He walked over and reached inside your car to pop the hood. “What happened before it died?”

You thought about imitating the noise it made but thought better of it. Lord knows you would only sound like a dying animal. “It made a weird sound and the died a few minutes after.”

He didn’t ask any other questions until he bent over the front of your car. “When was your last oil change?”

You went to answer him, but he took off his shirt, successfully distracting you for the moment. All the guys in the Navy were in shape, but Jake seemed like he was sculpted from the Gods.

A snapping of fingers brought you out of your daze. “Eyes up here, sweetheart.”

You shook your head at your obvious misstep in stroking his ego. And his ever-present smirk was the cherry on top.

“I can’t remember. Maybe before my last deployment.” Your eyes followed him as he bent back over, using his shirt to unscrew something. You didn’t miss the way his bicep flexed at the movements or the sweat slowly dripping down his back. It was hot outside, but not lord not this hot.

You had to physically turn around to stop ogling the man before he caught you again. Hangman didn’t need to know you couldn’t keep your eyes off him, just like every other girl in this world.

He pulled his head out from under the hood and smirked at you. “You don’t know a single thing about cars, do you?”

Although his looks might have nice on the eyes, it was comments like that that pulled you back to reality. “I’m a pilot. I don’t need to know about cars.” Your answer seemed to amuse him more as he shook his head and chuckled.

You thought about your decision to not call the tow truck and mentally slapped yourself. “I don’t see how my lack of knowledge is funny.”

He wiped his hands off on his shirt and shrugged his shoulders. “It’s just funny that one of the best pilots in the US can work on an F-18 like it’s nothing, but a simple car engine is out of your depths.”

When he said it out loud you knew it sounded bad. “I’m sorry I’m your typical girl and don’t care about cars.”

He shut the hood of your car and stepped towards you, “Sweetheart, I hate to break it to you. But you are far from your typical girl. As for your car, it’s gonna cost you.”

You looked over at the dead piece of scrap metal and asked, “What will? The car or you?”

That question had him throwing his head back and laughing. “As much as I would love to cash in whatever your mind went to, I meant the car. The transmission is blown.”

A person didn’t have to know much about cars to know that a blown transmission was a near death sentence for both your bank account and the car itself. You didn’t know if it was the heat or the situation itself, but you could feel your anger start to bubble to the surface.

Jake must have seen it too and placed a hand on your shoulder. “Hey, no need to worry. We will get the car towed and I know a guy in the area that can give you a good deal. It’ll be fixed by the end of this mission. Sound okay?”

You nodded your head and let him lead you to his truck. He turned on the A/C and told you to sit tight. The cool air on your face had never in your life felt as good as it did in this moment. He walked back out to your car, and you leaned your head back on the seat and closed your eyes. The one Saturday you have off and it’s spent on the side of the damn road.

A noise had you opening your eyes and you saw the dreaded tow truck start loading your car up. You made a move to get out, but Jake held a hand up telling you to stay in the car. You don’t thank this man for much, but in this moment, he was your god damn savoir.

Before too long, Jake got back in the truck and started driving like he didn’t just send your car off to be slaughtered. Before you could dwell too much on that, you realized the two of you were headed the opposite way of the base.

“Where are we going?”

“Well Darlin’, seeming that neither of us got to spend this day like we originally planned, I figured I’d go buy you a drink.” He was casually holding the steering wheel with one hand while the other rested on the center console. Not looking like he had a care in the world.

“You want to buy me a drink? Me?” You thought about the way you treated him at base and couldn’t fathom why he of all people would go out of their way to buy you a drink. He always acted like he was better than everyone else and you were the constant reminder that he wasn’t.

“Why do you find that so hard to believe? Can’t I take a pretty girl like yourself out?” He tossed you a Hollywood smile. One that got every single girl he talked to, to drop their pants for him. Which is why you said what you did next.

“Yeah, I’m not doing this. Pull over so I can get out and walk.” You took off your seatbelt, just for him to reach over and buckle you back in.

“That. That right there is why I want to take you out. You are the one girl who I know won’t take anyone’s shit. Do you know how hard I’ve tried to get you to even think about spending a minute with me outside of work? Hell, I’ve never in my life tried so hard for a girl to notice me. It took you breaking down on the side of the road with zero other options but for you to call me. So yes, sweetheart. I’m going to take advantage of you being hostage in my truck and buy you a drink.”

You opened your mouth just to shut it, not knowing how to respond to that. Your mind was reeling, trying to put together pieces you didn’t know went to the same puzzle. Jake had been around you more recently, but you thought it had to do with him trying to beat you out of a spot for this mission. Not that he might actually have feelings for you.

Had you been this narrow minded the entire time?

“Still with me?” The southern drawl of a voice snapped you out of your downward spiral. You glanced over at him and saw he was studying your reaction. The casual demeanor was now gone as his fingers tapped along the steering wheel. Was the all mighty Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin nervous?

“Why not simply ask me out? Ever think of that option?” You watched in amusement as he turned to face the road again, clearly thinking over what you just said. Going from nervous to downright frustrated was two things you didn’t get to see from him often. And it sounded a little cruel, but you loved it.

“It was that easy? This whole time it was that easy?” He looked to you in what seemed like complete exasperation, and you nodded your head.

“With all the praise you gave me earlier about not being like every other girl, yeah it was that simple. I’m not as complicated as you make me out to be. Flowers would’ve been nice though.” You gave him a smirk, just like the one he tortured you with day in and day out.  

He ran a hand through his hair and chuckled. “Well alright then. Y/N, would you do me the honors in letting me buy you a drink?”

You tried to hide the blush that crept up onto your face by turning to look out the window. “Seeing that you have already kidnapped me, I guess it wouldn’t hurt.”

His snort had you turning back around and smiling. “Thank you for helping me with my car. Who knows how long I would’ve been stranded on the side of the road.”

He grabbed your hand and squeezed, “No one else I would cancel plans for.”

You froze as you processed his words. “What do you mean by canceled?”

The smirk was back as he said, “I was headed out with Coyote and a few of the other guys. So, with us being gone this long I think it’s safe to assume they know what’s going on.”

You sank back into the seat and shook your head. “I take it back. I’ll walk home from here.”   

A/N: Thoughts? Likes or dislikes? Thank you so so much for reading!!!

[hellodragonkit]

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice Opinions and Points.

SPOILERS... obviously.

Ok I watched the movie, and ... some things that are my own personal thoughts and possible points I noticed. And some things I have seen others point out to where this is just my over all opinion and its kinda long.

The backstory lets not forget beetle is a unreliable narrator as proven by the first movie as Julliard and Harvard did not exist while he was alive, and unless he was possessing someone when they graduated its unlikely he said the truth. - so I don't think he gave us the full backstory. Maybe yes he did marry her, but given he never dies on screen and previously stated point. I just find it hard to believe that he drank a poison then had enough strength to chop her up as much as she was, if it was actually effecting him. i find it far more possible he had already been poisoned so often he was immune at that point. and was just pissed his new wife tried to do him in. Also in first movie it was suggested with the red mark he hung himself... maybe he tried to take over the death cult and had to do himself in for a quicker death?

the Newspapper. Yes it did say people were falsely accused of offing themselves at death, I think this was to help clear up the plot hole that would have been with Astrid's dad. And maybe be a red haring for Beetle. Next few points are BeetleBabes related so if you don't like the ship, please move on.

He gave her autonomy in his power. During the therapist scene when he "sewn" her mouth shut, it was less truly sewn and more duct taped. She had the ability to remove it, yeah he had it stick long enough for a gag, but not much more. He didn't force her.

The Contract and Nullification of it. Beetle wrote the contract, and he worked as a dead con man for years, he knew the handbook inside and out. He wrote up the contract for Lydia to sign and save her daughter, knowing there was a Massive Loop hole. even blowing a hole in the "back door" of the Neither to insure the loop hole was as big as it could be the second he had her sign, obviously with a bit of theatrics for both signing and explosions. But would we expect anything else from him?

Delia calling him: when Delia died, she called him asking to go to Lyd's wedding. He did so no questions no strings. Any other deal he always asked for something in return but for Lyd's step mom he didn't charge a dime, possibly because he felt Lyds would be upset if she missed it, and didn't get to say good bye.

Rory Beetle obviously didn't like him, could tell he was scamming Lyds, and yeah he probably could have sent him off but instead had to prove to Lydia why that guy was bad, hence why he used truth serum. He need to make sure she wouldn't go back to that guy once he was gone again. It was even hinted he heard her talking in the graveyard rushing to the church that she was not ready to marry.

He planed to go away. His song at the end, was not one of love and togetherness. MacArthur Park is more of loss and remorse. He was saying Goodbye to Lydia! Not permanently anyway

He set up sending away Deloris and helped the contract become Null When Deloris burst in through the door, the wind didn't effect Lydia, or Beetle, or Delia but the book slid to Astrid as easily as it had moved away, He moved it to her, conveniently on the page to summon sand-worms and how to brake the contract.

He stalled for the cops I find it funny how in the first movie he summoned a Man of the cloth and the guests. But this time he had both, and unlike the first time he wasn't rushing... he took his time to sing a whole song and to let the Neither cops show up, possibly also baiting Deloris to take care of her but I'm still not sure on that bit. ether way He had won, he had Lydia, the pastor, and guests. But instead he did a song and dance, a song that I already pointed out was one more of goodbye.

He let Lydia send him away. Beetle loves to make a entrance, he also may love to make a exit. he has also shown he can silence someone for just saying his name once. But instead of silencing her or taking over her voice as he had before. He started a dramatic plea, showing her he was getting sent away, showing her he was going to let her send him off.

The ending given the fact he may have over heard about Rory, And all the other notes, he could probably see Lydia wasn't wanting marriage at that time. But I also feel... he just likes the chase. What fun would it be if the Coyote already caught the road runner? he didn't mind her sending him away, because it means he could keep trying to get her to call him willingly. Over all this is just my ramblings that I don't have any friends irl who may appreciate them or be able to properly counter lol And if you made it this far thank you. And I hope you liked the movie as much as I did.

[sugar-crash]

🍬King Candy (Wreck-It Ralph) x (gn) Reader👑

(Beginning Relationship Pt. II Edition!)

(Just a tad bit different🔑 than it usually is, Have fun :))

- Tries his best to separate him from who he used to be to ward off suspicion of his shady behavior but as we can all see, he’s not exactly the best at it at times. Especially if you knew him when he was Turbo. Johunlz

- His more friendly King Candy look gives him far more leeway than he had as Turbo which he wanted purposely. He uses it to his advantage, especially when it comes to you, literally that one scene from Adventure Time. Shameless about it on top of that. ohcl

- Much like how he was previously, he teases you. But it’s far more lighthearted I guess? Sometimes he just says something absolutely mean as shit and then pats your head patronizingly in the same breath. Hate him. illu

- Being some of the shortest game characters of the bunch, he’s no stranger to being looked down upon, literally, and by then he doesn’t have much of an issue with his s/o being taller than him…

- However, if by some miracle or chance, you’re smaller than him, he thinks you’re so cute, affectionately calling you “snack-sized”, and he’ll say it when he tries to get on your nerves for one reason or another. thkl,

- Lovessss putting others down, when it comes to you, it’s more lighthearted or joking (with that little metaphorical bug in his ear relishing being able to do so), and anyone else??? Not as much. pu

- Lives for the praise you give him, as much as he doesn’t admit it of course, that self-satisfied and smug grin he gets whenever you congratulate him for having majority wins/being chosen the most as an avatar on Sugar Rush says it all. tvyl

- While being the one to establish the paywall and coin prizes (cause he’s an insidious asshole), he kinda hates that he can’t have an actual trophy like he used to— Can’t exactly display them for you to comment on later on considering they are constantly being used and turned into code. But hey, at least they have his insignia on them. aohu

- Calling myself out on this once more, but, the description randomalistic used for him in this YouTube video (which,,, I highly suggest watching if you haven’t already), specifically “a corrupt politician” is frighteningly accurate, he lies, he cheats, he sabotages, a perfect allegory for a corrupt higher power. vul

- And he fucking knows it man, proud of it even, one of his most successful works and he can’t even brag about it, can’t even tell you. wshjl

- We really don’t see what his relationship is between him and the other racers besides Taffyta claiming he wants to keep them safe and uh… The race track scenes. So from what I can ascertain I can fully see him acting like Miss Hannigan from Annie, specifically this one scene (yeah this post is just chocked full of links, bear with me), the mental image of him mockingly saying “she had to go bathroom” with his lisp makes me weak.

- Even in his new and far more prestigious position as King he still longs for more, with his limits and disguises imperfections not helping this inner turmoil, even in a game as big as Sugar Rush boredom takes root and he even his excuses that explain why he stays in Sugar Rush to you have a nearly invisible air of uncertainty to them.

- Makes a point to make you feel good, loved, cared for all throughout your visits to Sugar Rush, nothing is too good for you, there’s always more.

- I think this kind of behavior stems from this deep seated desire to make sure you don’t leave him, you could have everything you want with his help— Why wouldn’t you stay? Please stay.

- Caged. That’s how he feels secretly, I mean, who wouldn’t? He wasn’t exactly coded to be a monarch, all these responsibilities, not even his coding skills could help him with that…. I mean, would he even be himself without it?

- Achievements, what are they for when it’s the same thing over and over again? Validation? Attention? Power?? You maybe? Things he’s been chasing after for all of his life, well— Not you but he’s realized that he’s become far too attached to you, your softness, your sensitivity.

- Each moment spent together is far more significant to him than what he thought it’d be when he first showed interest in you— Thinking it’d be like every other relationship (mostly platonic ones) he’s been in, fleeting, and ending with you hating him, you had every right to after all.

- Sickness, an insult that had been thrown his way over a dozen times to the point where it usually gets a scoff and furrowed brows, but it feels devastating when you say it after his true nature is unceremoniously revealed by his hubris.

- Abandoned— That familiar pang ripping through his newly mutated form as you struggle for your life alongside the others that stayed behind to help every last one of the Sugar Rush people to get to safety from the unruly swarm of Cy-Bugs eating their home into nothing.

- Red. That’s all he sees as he brutally beats Ralph down into a pulp and cruelly taunts everyone else as he holds the overgrown bad guy in the air, eagerly and sadistically waiting for a little girl to meet a brutal end only to meet his own.

(Almr sarqr dprk’s sll lk sar klqr)

[netbug009]

okay lemme shut up about shipping and theories and whatnot and just talk about how mental health was handled in this episode in general for a bit because it's taken me this long to process it into words

Spoilers for TADC 4, discussions of mental health issues including masking, emotional personality disorders, and suicide ideation

So like... Personal info: I have autism, depression, and anxiety on paper with PTSD penciled in and still being sorted out. I used to be diagnosed with bipolar disorder, but at this point I'm not - we're not sure if the mood swings are just all of the above forming a weird gloopy mess or possibly something else? I'm finally getting through the waitlist for a proper behavioral health specialist in January after waiting for AGES so I'll hopefully have more answers soon, but that's who I am and where I'm at for anybody curious.

Point is, I felt REALLY deeply seen by this episode. I've been that person "masking" at work and in other social situations. I've been that person told I'm annoying when I'm happy. I have a deep understanding of bipolar disorder whether I have it or not because I learned about it for years. I knew this one was going to hit me personally from what we knew before it dropped but holy SHIT. There's a few nuances in particular here that really got to me and I don't usually see handled this way in fiction, probably because they're a bit more depressing and less universal than handling it in a way that feels more decisive, and executives at big studios aren't crazy about either of those things.

The big one for me was how Pomni handled the situation.

Pomni is a kind person. As she's previously stated, she doesn't want anybody to feel like they're nothing, so she's willing to help, but... she's also tired. She's got her own things going on. Before letting Gangle be the third person in as many episodes to lean on her, she checks in to see if Gangle has someone closer she can talk to.

Pomni isn't a perfect, Godlike hero - she has her limits, and she puts up a soft boundary for herself of asking Gangle if someone else can take the load. She's clearly ready to listen if that's not possible, but she does the fair thing to try and put her own oxygen mask on first.

That nuance really got me and sort of ties into the overarching way this episode handled the whole ordeal: Nobody is at fault for how this episode went, or how the adventure ultimately ended, and nobody blames themselves for it.

Pomni isn't treated like her efforts to help "weren't enough" but also doesn't get shouldered with the credit for "saving" Gangle - that's not how mental illness works. While being kind to others can have a major positive impact, it's not fair for people left behind when someone passes due to suicide or suicidally reckless behavior like manic episodes often include to blame themselves for "not doing enough."

Likewise, Zooble doesn't blame themselves for Gangle's misery, simple acknowledging that their idea didn't work and that they'd help their friend keep trying.

Even CAINE isn't really an antagonist in this one. In fact, he's the LEAST antagonistic he's ever been, choosing an adventure from the group's suggestions and actively trying to support their ideas. He literally did nothing wrong in this one beyond maybe being a bit insensitive in places.

There's just something really... refreshing and unexpected about that to me. I'm not saying it's bad for shows to actively address these issues by talking through them less subtly, but there's something about how casually this episode handles it. Nobody is the bad guy. Nobody actively makes a choice to harm Gangle, except maybe Jax with a rude comment because he's Jax - not even Gangle herself.

Mental illness just be like that sometimes.

[bonesandchalamet]

the fourth - j.fisher

masterlist

pairings: Jeremiah fisher x fem!reader

warnings: minor spelling/grammatical errors + fluff

a/n: super excited for the second season 😁😁

the Fourth of July on cousins beach was something else. it was far different from the normal parties at home. there were fireworks for miles at almost every hour of the night. the sky lit up in colors of red, white, blue, and sparkling shimmery gold.

there was nothing more magical than cousins beach lit up under the beautiful dazzling display.

however, you could think of a view much more beautiful to stare at. Jeremiah fisher.

he was one of Susannah’s boys that you began to develop a crush on. you’d seen him lifeguarding the pool from time to time. he’d been on the stand at your very first time at the country club, and while he was rotating around the pool, he crouched down to where you rest against the ledge, “you shouldn’t be in this pool.” he says, a playful smirk forms against his lips, “you’re making my job harder.”

from that point forward, you made it your mission to show up to that damn country club and in whatever skimpy bikini you could find to impress him. it’s what got you invited to the summer bash on the beach with his friends.

“this is Steven, who you’ve met he works at the club, belly, and my brother conrad. guys this is y/n.”

“you come here every summer?” belly asks, she’s the first to whisk you away from the three boys while they searched for the keg or any sightings of drinks.

“no, this is my first time.” you follow her along the sand, allowing the grains to slip into your sandals before situating yourselves towards the water.

“I can see you have an eye for Jeremiah.” belly nudges your shoulder before quickly turning her head in search of the boys. there wasn’t a sight of them for miles, so the coast was clear to chat of them, “he likes you too. he talks about you a lot.”

her emphasis makes you blush. having not known Jeremiah well enough, or even close enough, you’re unsure if he does this often. you’re unsure if it’s compliment that he speaks about you, or if he does this so often it’s annoying for his friends.

you don’t have too much time to question her before Jeremiah is kicking sand in your face and plopping down against the sand beside you. he’s brought two red solo cups, one for you and the other for him.

“thank you.” you smile. you take the cup from his hand, fingers briefly touching, his hand is wet from the condensation of the cup. you’re blushing even harder than when belly was talking about him, and you’re so thankful for the stars and the dark skies to mask it.

“I think shayla is here we should go find her.” belly suggests to conrad and Steven. while the three get up you catch belly’s eyes and she flashes a wink in your direction. you owe her for next time, and you’re sure there will be another.

“so you’ve never seen the fireworks here?” he scoots closer to you, thighs briefly brushing against each other.

you feel the butterflies in your stomach erupt as you look over into his eyes. the stars reflect in them, you can feel your heart beating faster when he looks over at you.

just as you begin to reply, the eruption of the crackles in the sky startles everything in you. you subconsciously jump closer to him, and feel his arm wrap around your shoulders, “I got you, it’s okay.” he chuckles while pulling you almost into his lap.

“I’m sorry I’m not normally scared.” you reply with a chuckle. you’re hesitant to relax against his body. he smells of sun tan lotion and a mixture of cologne, you could get used to that.

he turns his head in your direction. a small smile forms against his lips, “you’re beautiful under these stars.”

you inch closer, eyes glued on his lips. this is the only thing you could ever want. a kiss under the stars, fireworks erupting in the background. you want this.

you wonder what his lips taste like. do they taste like the beer he just drank? or perhaps the cherry popsicle he was previously sucking on that turned his lips bright red. the curiosity was killing you.

“that one’s pretty.” he swivels his head in the direction of the sky, index finger pointed at the golden shimmer against the darkness. you watch them for a moment, how they shimmer and dazzle.

for a moment, you feel the world stop around you. like life beyond you is just background noise and the fireworks are all you can see. you feel like a little kid again, wondering what life was like on cousins at age eight. you wonder how cute Jeremiah was then. you wonder if his family and belly’s did sparklers or cozied up under a fire to witness these very same Fourth of July fireworks.

it’s then when he takes his chance. he gently places his index finger under your chin and turns your face towards him. the curls that brush against his forehead gently tickle your forehead as he leans in. his lips fit like a glove. they taste like a mixture of cherry popsicle and bitter wheat beer he was illegally drinking.

you can feel fireworks in your own stomach erupting. they shoot up and dazzle over and over as he keeps kissing you. his hand is wrapped around the base of your head, fingers tangled in your hair.

“you taste like beer.” you say finally pulling away for air. you feel like you’re floating above water. heart is full of so much joy you’re smiling wider than you ever thought you could.

“is that why you stopped?”

you shake your head brushing a couple of strains of hair that stuck to your face from the wind, “no, I never wanna stop.”

“good,” he pauses for a second, fingers lacing into your hair again, “me neither.”

[anemicjellyfish]

About Stella

Been thinking about her character every now and then. This post was initially 100% about how her behavior left me thinking she was a spoiled brat for most of her life. But it evolved into something else. Sorry. I do still think she's a spoiled brat, though.

In Western Energy, Striker returns and successfully kidnaps Stolas. It isn't a surprise to us, as we remember Stella hired him previously in the Harvest Moon Festival.

This is a surprise to Andrealphus, however.

What gets me is that Andrealphus coddles Stella for a portion of their conversation. He also tries leading her to make a conclusion by herself without directly telling her what to think.

He gently brings his sister to the information that's most important: that the death of her husband wouldn't necessarily leave her in a good position, just Octavia.

It's only when Stella can't seem to connect the dots that Andrealphus has a little outburst of irritation (and sibling energy, like with the "you stupid cow" line).

After that, Andrealphus goes right back to his previous tone. He once again tries to bring Stella to the point without saying it directly. And when he eventually does get around to it, he's only making it as a suggestion.

Something about the way Stella is sitting, the way Andrealphus circles behind her, and the way he is still trying to convince her through suggestions instead of beinf direct... I have a feeling Stella has had this happen to her most of her life.

As much as I don't want to "go to bat" for Stella right before I go to sleep, I do get the feeling that she's been in this type of situation before. I feel like others, even if it's just her brother, have manipulated her into doing things that they want her to do.

I really think the rest of the Goetia will have a lot of subtlety in their social circles, and that social cues could be complex to navigate. Stella is direct with both her language and her feelings. I'm curious if she's an outlier due to that. And I'm wondering if she's been kept in this mentality on purpose (again, by her brother and/or other Goetia).

I do still think she's a spoiled brat. Her behavior is immature and crude, even before Stolas cheated on her. But I wonder if the reveal of her backstory (which we are supposed to get eventually) would shed some light as to why she is this way.

[libraford]

I feel very cornered.

I feel like I have to use the exact right words if I'm going to say something. So I decided to say nothing. But now saying nothing is bad. So I'm told I have to say something. But I don't know what the correct words to say are. But if I continue to say nothing, I'm just as bad as the people who say the wrong things.

And when someone tries to force you to say the right words under duress, it doesn't feel genuine or right.

And I try to learn what the right words are on my own, where there's no pressure, but it feels performative. And I try to be informed, but there are lots of opinions, even within schools of thought, about what the most correct opinion is.

And I don't want to be seen as an authority. Because perhaps I had the correct opinion previously, but the situation has changed. When people talk about it in person, I listen to them. I do not give suggestions, I do not make demands. I just listen. And I donate what I can, but I don't have a job right now so that's hard.

I thought that was how you're supposed to do it. I thought that allyship was listening and letting other people speak and not drowning out the people whose voices matter on the subject. I thought putting a little flag next to your icon was performative and not real activism.

But now I'm supposed to say something. Because listening isn't enough, giving isn't enough. I have to take an oath with the most right words or else I'm fake and racist.

The right words won't stop the suffering.

I'm sure it makes some people feel good to put someone in these kinds of positions. I'm sure to some people, trying to find the secret racist, the secret antisemite, the secret Islamophobe is a fun game for them. But I don't like it so much. I don't like the feeling that nothing I do will ever be enough.

So I feel really... cornered. And I don't think that's a good tactic for getting the outcome you want.

[susandsnell]

did you see the current US les mis tour? i'm thinking of going (though i haven't bought tickets yet) and i'm curious about what might be in it for valvert enjoyers (including myself)

OH DID I EVER, FRIEND. It came to Canada this past summer and I cannot recommend getting tickets enough; it's possibly the best the show has ever been, and the cast is incredible. I didn't think I'd still be crying at it at this age and bam, Act 2 rolls around and there goes my painstakingly winged eyeliner.

Valvert is imo the most played up it's been, if you want to go in unspoiled I'll leave it at that, but I'll put more details after the cut. Spoilers/me being a cringe parody of myself below.

They've gone with both a lot more physical blocking between the two of them and a much more humanized Javert + book-accurately violent (albeit For Good Reason) Valjean than previous productions, all of which lends itself very well to the ship. Lot of lingering gazes in prison/grabs at each other, a genuine rapport between Maire Madeleine and the Inspector of Montreuil-sur-Mer, and then there's the Champmathieu trial through the Confrontation. Javert actively lunges for Valjean after his confession and the two leads I saw had such an intense chemistry you could see their eyes burning through that part.

As for the Confrontation, it's been choreographed/blocked to be a lot more suggestive violent than previously; there's a barely concealed smirk on Javert's face during "you'll wear a different chain" that I remember made me think "...my 12 year old self is thriving right now." Valjean doesn't snap until Javert tries to shackle him, at which point it goes into the whole "I am warning you, Javert!" bit. He uses that incredible, Brick-accurate Valjean strength to break free, deck Javert, and garrotes him with his own chain at the song's (heh) climax, until the man goes down to his knees, and if I'm not misremembering, he half-straddles his shoulder to keep him down. Before it gets into the "And this I swear to you tonight" bit, there's a good several moments of Javert left rolling on the ground writhing, gagging, and moaning (this would become a persistent thing as the show progressed) while still crawling towards Valjean, half-conscious and half-mad with obsession, reaching towards him. And then Valjean smashes his head into a wall, Liam Neeson in '98 style. I don't know what you go to the theatre for, but personally I do to see old men cry and beat the shit out of each other homoerotically.

Not much more happens in Act 1 (though the Intervention through Stars has as much reverence to it about the sanctity of their chase and their dynamic as it does the very structures Javert cannot fathom Valjean existing outside of - I think he presses his fingers to his lips a little on "Lord, let me find him" after crossing himself), but Act 2 at the Barricades is where things go wild again. There seems to be an Objectifying The Inspector agenda behind the scenes of this new production and I am here for it. Thus, please know that the Valvert barricade scenes take place with the mainstay of Javert having his shirt needlessly torn open/almost off by Les Amis / his ponytail getting dishevelled / him throwing his head back and moaning / panting at some points over the singing because he got his ass kicked again. Heavy, heavy appraisal in Valjean's "give me the spy Javert"/tugging on his bonds as he pulls him away to ostensibly take him out back like Old Yeller (for show for Les Amis, sure but I sensed a bit of spite/something else). And then Valjean's Forgiveness is just. Okay, so I got good enough seats to say that Javert is licking his lips during "How right you should kill with a knife."

What really made my jaw drop was that Javert, being played a lot more emotionally and erratically at this point, actually reaches with both hands once freed of his bonds to grab hold of Valjean's rifle by the mouth and pull it up to his head/press his whole chest into it on "shoot me now, for all I care". Which, yes, Imagery, but then you have them having a legitimate moment where Valjean firmly but gently pulls the gun away/him away from the gun, and holds his face/shoulder in a way I think was? Deliberately meant to echo the blocking of the Bishop during the whole "I have bought your soul for God" in the prologue. "There's nothing that I blame you for" is almost played as a realization despite the anguish Javert has put him through. As for the sewers through the end, each man is played as having increasing realization of how much they are two sides of the same coin, but during the Soliloquy, you have Javert screaming out/sobbing some of his lines about Valjean and how dare he transcend the very structures that gave sense and shape to his world. It has to be seen to be believed.

Outside of this -- there's actually a lot more work done outside their interactions to parallel them. Javert and Gavroche are given a rapport meant to run alongside the Valjean-Cosette relationship where you see a Javert who's a lot more indulgently annoyed towards this cocky gamin than aggressive (they have such a cute, funny moment together after Look Down/Javert's Intervention bit, Javert's not even mad and more 'are you fucking kidding me I lost to an 8 year old' when Gavroche blows his cover). It pays off because they worked in him paying respects when he sees his body during the Bring Him Home instrumental as they did in the movie (albeit more organically, because the scene is staged from Javert's POV seeing all the bodies at the barricade + he stops over Gavroche, kneels to close the boy's still-open eyes, and with a stricken expression, makes the sign of the cross over his body), to the point that you absolutely get the impression Javert is seeing his younger, disadvantaged yet striving self in Gavroche. With the instrumental cue being Valjean's song of paternal feeling for Marius, the staging really drives home that Javert had so many opportunities himself to go through a similar journey of personal growth through fatherhood. And there's power in these parallels when they're not interacting, too!

All in all, they went all in on every character relationship in this production and I cannot recommend it enough. The costumes are beautiful, the sets/effects are phenomenal, and the orchestration reveals just how beautiful the score really is. Go see it!!!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hi, Miss Raven! What're your thoughts on the new characters' designs and the new cards we're getting?

[You can see the designs for the Halloween 2023 cards and other related TWST news here!]

I'll post my general thoughts below! I unfortunately don't know enough about Pinocchio myself to point out all the little easter eggs in their outfits, so I'll leave that to those who are more knowledgeable than me.

***Spoilers below the cut!!***

Regarding the NRC boys' looks overall, I think it's a very fun theme and very fitting for the location of the event. I like that they all still wear masks, just in a different context than in Glorious Masquerade. One thing I did notice is that the masks seem... same-y? Like they all resemble thick tree roots or something like that. So maybe they aren't masks at all, but they're associated with whatever the conflict in the story is. (I previously suggested mind control or the loss of consciousness, so maybe the "roots" play into that???) You can see the marionette theme Yana was going for, as well as some design elements from Black Butler's circus arc, very clearly. The poses for each of the boys, even the R cards, are extremely dynamic and imply a strong sense of movement. The ribbons are such a simple detail that contributes a lot to this sense of whimsy and flow.

Some comments I have on specific designs and poses:

Suspenders are so... Trey 💀 THERE'S REALLY NOTHING ELSE FOR ME TO ADD HERE, THEY JUST SUIT HIM

I like it when Trey makes these kind of slightly sus but plausibly deniable faces... He should make more of them...

I can't see the front of Jack's outfit that well, so I don't know if I can fully comment on it??? But I can see his. Like. Physique... coming through... That chest to waist ratio/j

Seeing Jack's tail like that kinda weirds me out. I think that's the first time we've gotten a "full" view of how the tails look coming out of the pants??? So maybe I'll get more used to it with time...

J WORD MY BELOVED dghgqwktvwukdviu1vdutw1513FR7vuofOTVUofvfaafvfyivs.,bk;mobsdb;ibuafetvuqoffSEythTOTqebivfguovqnafCUtuiUIEtt please ignore my bias 🤡 The way his top hat is angled and how there's a dark blue ribbon around him... It vaguely looks like he's trying to pass as Crowley, LOL

I like how his undershirt is frilled and how he has that sash at his waist it reminds me of the genderbent design for my TWST OC! The fact that both he and Floyd have the eel emblem that resembles a heart is also really cute~

Lilis is my favorite design of the R cards!! There's a very good distribution of ruffles throughout the look, and his knotted skirts fit well with his personal flair.

I'm not a huge fan of the style of hat Cater's wearing (sorry to all the Cay-kun stans out there), but I can appreciate his look. His dress appears more militant than Trey's, and his posing is certainly more aggressive--it's nice to see him in this new light.

FHIBBAILAIBASIADIHBLBUDB EVERY TIME I SEE L*ONA NOW I'M GOING TO THINK OF THE ONE REBLOG I SAW THAT SAID "of course leona has his tits out again" BECAUSE THEY'RE RIGHT, HE'S LITERALLY THE GIRLIE THAT DRESSES SLUTTY ON HALLOWEEN AND SOMEHOW NEVER GETS COLD 😭 You go, king... Live your best life!!

Love L*ona-san’s new hairstyle here!! 👀

The way Floyd is posed reminds me of those people that walk around on stilts. I think I much prefer the coloration on Floyd's outfit than on Jade's, but I prefer Floyd's jacket to Jade's. I think Floyd's the best of the SR designs!

Shockingly, Vil's look doesn't stand out to me that much??? I enjoy his sash, but I don't immediately pick up on anything in his illustration that catches my eye.

His pose resembles that of a ballerina, which just makes me think about the time he assigned Epel and Deuce extra (ballet) dance lessons in book 5 ajdbhasivldsadued

Of the SSRs, Ace is definitely my favorite one. He just looks so dramatic soaking up that spotlight and trying to look cool while doing it... Bro's 100% thinking, "heheheheh, I'm SO awesome :))" in his head.

Ace's design also reminds me a lot of Jack Hearts (from Disney Villain Recruiters). Not sure if it was intentional or not, but I'm definitely super into it!

HHNNNNNGNGHGHHGHGNGNGHHGHGHGHGHHHHH I WANNA BITE HIS HEAD OFF AND BULLY HIM SO BAD, I WANNA WIPE THAT SMIRK OF FHIS DUMB FACEe Am I seriously about to revert back to my Brat Loving era for Trappola... Maybe so...

I was pretty much expecting a SSR Ace (because he's a trickster with a brother that works in an amusement park) and Ortho (literally a robot that became a real boy), but Kalim took me by surprise. In hindsight, I guess it makes sense though...? Kalim has a similar immature vibe as the other two (plus I do remember there being this one scene in Aladdin where the Sultan was dressed like a jester that was being maneuvered on puppet strings).

It's great that Kalim gets to be a little out of his usual element and make darker, more mysterious expressions like what we see in his new illustration. I'm not sure if I entirely agree with how he's dressed (the yellow jacket is WAY too bright), but I love his his coattails (???) trail behind him in waves.

OR-KUN MY SON 😭😭😭 As is the case with all of his gears, I adore how the devs creatively adapted clothing into metal parts for Ortho! The half-caplet is easily the best part of the whole look for me (the pattern on it reminds me of stars falling down)--and because Ortho has a smaller stature, the type of hat he's wearing isn't as offputting; it actually looks very cute on him.

ANYWAY, VERY HAPPY THAT ORTHO GETS TO HAVE A HALLOWEEN SSR TO MATCH HIS BROTHER'S HALLOWEEN SSR FROM LAST YEAR... They match!!!

... Is that the fucking cricket on Ortho’s cape... and the goldfish on Kalim’s scarf… AND THE CAT ON ACE’S WAIST… What does this meeeean 🤡

And now for my thoughts on the two new boys!! Honestly?? I don't actually have much to comment on in this regard because I try to reserve my judgment of characters until I've actually seen them in action. I haven't seen Pinocchio either, so I don't have a strong basis for what their personalities would be like based on their original Disney counterpart. I only vaguely understand that Honest John and Gideon trick children into visiting Pleasure Island... That's it, that's the full extent of my knowledge on that pair. I don't have any other expectations going in other than "yeah, these two are going to swindle me".

Gidel looks like a mix of Cheka and Ruggie to me (because of the hair and the eye shape). He seems like he’ll be the other guy’s goon, similar to how Jade and Floyd/Ruggie follow Azul/Leona. Nothing else for me to add, Gidel seems alright… Just a silly lil’ guy!

I have more… mixed thoughts on Ferro. One one hand, he looks like the exact kind of shady bitch I’d love. (You know, the ones that smile and lie and manipulate and drive a knife into your back and—LOOK, HE’S VERY J WORD CORE) On the other hand, I’m beating back the “you like cat/dog boys” allegations from my friends, so 💀 I can’t give in so easily/j

Looks-wise, Ferro’s iteration of the rat tail hair is not as ugly to me as Malleus’s is. (I think it’s because it looks more windswept!) I also really like how he dresses—very dapper 😌 and he can pull off green eyeshadow well!

I’m wondering how they’ll make Ferro different than the other con artists we’ve seen so far *eyes Octavinelle* but I’m keeping my hopes up since the devs did a good job remixing the “I have a dead brother and I feel immense guilt about it” backstory for Rollo (when Idia had a similar one). Looking forward to that~

I’m sure my thoughts will chance once I actually get to see them in the event! ^^ I’ll keep you posted. For now, I’ll keep cautious. (Actually, this fan art basically summarizes my current feelings on the two! I’m Rollo/j)

[andromeddog]

Hi! Thank you for responding to my previous ask about helmets during wwi. I was also just wondering if u have any tips for drawing hair? this is for working on art in general and not a project. i have tried to use references and sketches a bunch, have practiced a ton, but it is still difficult. i was just wondering if u have any tips for drawing hair, esp male hair? thank you!!

oh wow anon hi again, coming in hot w an interesting question bc i genuinely don’t think ive ever consciously considered or examined the way to draw hair/the way i draw hair…. (apologies in advance this got really long)

ig first of all when u mention “male hair” u mean short hair? given the men i draw r p much all historical military dudes they tend to have short short hair so im going to assume u mean that (bc i know men w very luscious locks.) drawing it is something that took me a while to get used to…… when i was into golden kamuy my fave had a buzzcut and i was struggling to find someway to showcase that without it looking like a helmet (i started to figure it out towards the end) i think the big balance there is trying to manage level of detail. w some styles u rly dont need much (buzzcut is mostly about hairline and shape of the head, i break up the smooth silhouette by adding a few lines to suggest that it’s fuzzy or spikey) and others require way more attention (wavy/curly hair comes in a variety of shapes so figuring out the specific curl pattern ur going for is crucial, fine line between showing that accurately and just making a bunch of visual noise)

(also also this is just a fact of the media im into and to b completely honest w myself and you - we’re talking mostly white dudes here in this specific post, this is not a catch all for any hair type but esp more curly/coiled hair textures. i would recommend seeking out artists of color who have more experience w that bc i do b drawing a lot of white guys! and they are not the only type of guy!)

genuinely hair can feel like more of an obstacle for me, slowing down the process for what i would rather be drawing (uniforms) so im always stoked when i can just draw a helmet (sometimes, as previously established helmets r also my mortal enemy). often times ill start with the face but skip everything above the forehead until the very end of the line art, which leaves behind a very silly looking half decapitated soldier (there’s no tip here, just a weird quirk in how i go through a piece lolll) hair on its own is usually delicate and ive never once in my life been able to render something delicately, so thank god for gross war dudes who’s hair is messy enough for my style to finally make sense

IN GENERAL…..watch out when doing the lines, you don’t need to include EVERY single hair or EVERY single lock, blank space can imply they’re there and trying to capture every single centimeter of hair can be too much in the finished product. this is something i suffer from and have talked a bit about BUT it especially rears its head (lol) when drawing hair. i just get too lost in details and then i zoom out and have an insanely dense area of detail right on top of the head that distracts from everything else below it (aka basically all the stuff i WANT to showcase). the eye will automatically b drawn to that spot and no matter how nice the rest of the drawing is ppl will b more focused on whatever the fuck i did w the hair… being frivolous w lines in general can look good when zoomed in but when zoomed out can just make the whole piece…… busy

idk if i have “tips” so much as kind of a reference for how i would go about drawing hair…. here r some examples of hair i’ve drawn that i think dont suck complete ass with a wee bit of analysis. u can tell my absolute fav thing to do is put a lot of detail right where the hair meets the forehead- idk why i just think it makes that intersection more visually appealing.

when im beginning to draw hair i start w the head shape and where approximately the hairline is. then i kind of block off the general shape of the hair on top of that- getting an accurate idea of the boundaries and being able to fill in the details within that space. i try to identify the big “chunks” of hair, the major shapes/flow within the entire shape itself. longer/thicker lines segment those, and then i can fill in that space w shorter/lighter lines to show more detail (if im using a brush w line weight, if im doing mono line i feel my style skews more simple to make up for the lack of line weight)

the next step is a slightly more cleaned up version, getting a better idea of the silhouette and general hair direction. then its lines! and i spend 3 million years destroying my wrist and trying to make sense of earlier sketches…. esp w curly hair oh my god. truthfully i’m still trying to find a balance between “too much” and “not enough” when it comes to curls. again, i have a tendency to go overboard with detail!

also this is a personal plea, but if that hairline is receding, PLEASE for the love of god make sure to include that hairline receding. the hairline is one of those little things that can really help capture likeness; getting it wrong will result in a certain “off-ness” that can make u confused or frustrated as to why this guy doesn’t look quite right. u can also get one of those weird style conflicts where ppl who usually draw younger “””attractive””” men try to draw an older one and it’s very clear they r unwilling to do anything to make the older man look another other than like, 25. (or, from their perspective, unattractive) (i could get up on my soapbox about ppl’s unwillingness to even consider drawing features that aren’t like iphone face hot but that’s my hot take and no one asked) one thing i personally strive for in my work is an accurate depiction, or as close as i can manage w my skills being where they are, so i push that hairline back and i do it will all the love in my heart

ALL OF THIS TO SAY…… idk. this is just my general process, what i’ve been doing and what works for me. maybe it doesn’t make sense or won’t work for you. i will b the first to admit hair is not my strongest skill! i will also b the first to admit my work in general is far from perfect, i have a lot to learn in p much any and all conceivable ways!! but i hope this small novel helped even a little???? anyway have a great day anon mwah mwah mwah 💕✨🦆

[pullhisteeth]

wasteland, baby | eddie munson x reader

summary your friendship with Eddie got complicated when you went to college. you've both been hiding things from each other, and the heat of a summer spent in Hawkins draws out the truth. [4k]

contains 18+ !!! fwb to lovers, fwb!best friend!Eddie, fem!reader, angst, arguing, hurt to comfort, fluff, suggestive content/mentions of smut, mentions of alcohol and weed, tense conversation, miscommunication, and a truckload of yearning. just two idiots in love!

author's note I'm back, baby! with something inspired by one of my favourite songs of all time. enjoy!

-

All the fear and the fire of the end of the world happens each time a boy falls in love with a girl.

-

Resting on your cheeks on your folded forearms, you stretch one leg out behind you. The soft sheets under your stomach ride your top up and you feel the sun lick the backs of your legs and up your back, warm and slightly oppressive. It’s a hot summer in Hawkins, hotter than you remember it ever being before you moved.

There’s also the infrequent brush of hair around your ankles. It tickles, shifting whenever he does, and is joined by the tracing of his fingers behind your knees. You’ve nearly kicked him in the head a couple times from how light his touch is. You know he knows you’re ticklish.

The combination of the pads of his fingers, the brush of his hair, and the heat of his breath on your skin is all too much. You squirm where you’re laid, turning off your stomach onto your side to lean your head up on one elbow and look down at the foot of the bed.

“Eds?”

He stirs, previously unbothered by your legs moving out of his reach, turning onto his side too. He looks back at you with eyes half-lidded, browned butter irises under his lashes. He hums.

You rub your socked feet together absentmindedly.

“Aren’t you hot?”

“Smokin’, babe,” he drawls, grin lopsided and silly.

You roll your eyes and say, “Funny.”

Kicking one of your feet out slightly, you use your toes to nudge his shirt up. He’s in a longsleeve and jeans and it makes you feel exposed in your vest and shorts.

“It’s, like, eighty degrees out.”

“It is,” he agrees, looking down at your foot as it kicks his stomach lightly. It’s very clear he’s winding you up, the way he always has. And, as ever, you fall straight into his trap, face first, so recklessly no one could accuse you of ever being oblivious.

“Surely you’re overheating in that.”

His eyes come back to yours.

“Hm,” he muses with a look of faux concentration that is broken only by the twitch of a smirk. “Wanna give me a hand cooling down?”

His fingers are back on your leg, two of them walking steps up the curves of your calf, over your knee and up your thigh where his whole hand spreads and squeezes gently. The smirk has broken through.

“I shoulda known,” you groan, turning back on your stomach and rolling your eyes. His hand remains, smoothing over the back of your leg, creeping closer and closer to the hem of your shorts until his fingers brush the denim and slip underneath.

“Honey,” he croons, “you really walked into that one.”

“Can’t we do somethin’ else?” you muse, speaking muffled words into the clammy skin of your arm where you rest your head.

His fingers stop moving, and after a moment he says, “like what?”

Shuffling around to look at him, twisted all weird, top slid even further up, you say, “I dunno. Go out?”

“You want to go out?” he asks as his face contorts into something like disgust.

“Forget it,” you say, sitting up. You shuffle your knees over the sheets and lift one over him, your hands smoothing over his broad shoulders to turn him onto his back. His own hands sit splayed across your bare thighs as you straddle him.

“No,” he breathes. “No, no, I just… Just wasn’t what I was expectin’, is all. Where’d you wanna go?”

You look down at him as you rest your weight on him fully and look him in the eye. He looks back at you with a softness you only catch every so often.

After a beat you say, “the lake?”

You watch as he holds down a laugh, swallowing it just before it breaches into the space between you, and you feel yourself recoil.

“Hey,” he soothes, voice quick and soft. “Hey, sorry, I just… it’s a bit clichéd, but it’s fine, it’s fine. Let’s go.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, sure, why not?”

A giggle claws its way up your throat, threatens to break free so you let it, and he grins in response underneath you. With his hands on your waist he grips you to lift you up and off himself, squeezing a little too hard to push more giggles out of you, tickling you silly ‘til you can’t breathe. You lie on his bed and watch him gather things together - an old towel, and another one; an old bottle of sunscreen; a backpack.

“C’mon then,” he says, holding his hand out to you. You take it and pull yourself up and off the bed, toeing your sneakers on and following him out the door. He throws the bag by your feet as he gets into the van and as he pulls out of Forest Hills, you wind down the window and rest your arm on the sill to feel the breeze through your hair.

It’s funny, Eddie thinks, how you’ve barely changed in five years. Of course, you have changed, because you’re 22 now, not 18 like you were when you left, and you’ve grown, and your hair’s longer than it was when you met, and he’s sure he’s changed, too. But here, with your head leant out his window, your hair going wild in the wind, you are the same girl he met under the bleachers in freshman year.

Under the dappled canopy of oak trees, Eddie takes a left turn off the road and onto a gravel path. It’s well-trodden, the dry ground smoothed over by teenagers’ cheap cars coming and going all summer, so the drive is easy until you pass the usual spot. He keeps going, driving past the shoreline where a bunch of kids younger than you are lounging, swimming, basking in the heat.

The road turns dirty here, kicking a cloud of dust up behind the van as you go. You wind the window up and sit with your head resting against the seat, turning it so you can look at your driver.

Eddie Munson is a notoriously dark individual. You love him dearly, perhaps more than you care to admit to him, but he really does a good job of living up to his reputation, with his jeans and chains and that hair.

Here, in the brief flashes of sunlight coming through the leaves as the van slows, you see the way his skin’s kissed golden by the sun. The rings on his hand, where it sits on the gearstick by your left knee, shine in the light and look strangely pale against his usually alabaster skin. You realise, for the first time since you came back for summer, that he’s actually grown up a lot in the time you’ve been away. His skin’s rougher but it still looks as soft as it feels under the sunny glow; he’s rougher, too, eyes harder and jaw firmer. You let your eyes dance over him, up his forearm where he’s pulled his sleeves up, across the ink dotted there, and onto his face.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” he asks, voice soft. You hadn’t noticed the familiar smirk, distracted by the way his hair looks in the sun, so you just scoff and roll your eyes.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you spit playfully, forcing down a smile. 

“Hey,” he whines, false with pain, hand over heart. You just laugh at him, looking away and out of the window as he pulls to a stop at the side of the dirt track.

It’s quieter here. In fact, there’s no one else around. He’s driven to the northernmost part of the lake, past the most popular beaches, up to one that would barely qualify as a beach. It’s a stretch of sandy pebbles and long, flat slabs of stone resting under tall trees, and it’s too far from town to attract any screaming teenagers.

You hop out of the van and stretch, arms above your head, closing your eyes and enjoying the feeling of the sun on your face. You hear him creep behind you, readying yourself for some kind of assault, his fingers in your side or arms around your waist to pick you up off the floor, but you feel nothing. Instead you listen as he takes the bag from the footwell of your seat and closes the door, and then hear his footsteps as they disappear behind you, down towards the water.

Something inside you is disappointed. You’re not sure why.

You follow him, eyes adjusting to the high sun, shielded by your hand at your brow. It really is quiet up here, you think as you step off the track and onto the stoney shore.

Eddie stops halfway to the water. It’s the middle of the afternoon, the sun is moving across the sky slowly, and so he appears to stop where the shade of the trees ends.

Out of the bag he pulls the two towels and you realise he’s carrying a blanket too. One of the ones you recognise out of the back of his van; one you’ve laid on too many times.

“Seriously, what are you looking at?” he asks without even looking up from where he’s wrestling the blanket, as though your eyes have lasers, burning deep, hot holes in the crown of his head. “Would you come over here and give me a hand instead of gawking at me?”

A fire spreads under your cheeks, fueled by embarrassment.

“Dunno,” you mumble, stepping over to hold down the corners closest to you. “‘S’weird seeing you be all… domestic.”

He stops moving, blanket suspended in his hands, and looks up at you, head tilted up awkwardly.

“Domestic?”

“Yeah, you know,” you stumble. “This is so… so normal.”

He doesn’t say anything and for a moment you’re scared you’ve said something wrong, but he just carries on lying the blanket flat and sits on it, stretching his legs out and resting on his palms behind him.

You feel silly standing beside him, so you sit, legs crossed. For a still moment the two of you take in the heat, listen to the chirps of bugs and birds and the soft lapping of water.

“We used to do shit like this all the time,” you finally say. The thought had been swirling around your head in the silence and slipped out of your mouth almost without you noticing.

He turns to look at you. You daren’t look back.

“Yeah,” he says, looking straight ahead again. “But you left.”

The words come out clunky and uncomfortable. You hear the trepidation in their disjointed sound, like he was trying to swallow them as they came out.

You’re not sure what to say. He’s right, of course; you were inseparable, best friends for four years, and then you went to college and rarely looked back, save for the holidays.

“It’s shit,” he continues. He still sounds hesitant, but Eddie has a tendency to speak even when he shouldn’t.

If he notices the way you squirm at his words, he doesn’t show it.

“I’m sorry, Eds,” you murmur, too scared to move too much in case you do something that hurts him even more than you already have. Somewhere down the line, you sensed that this would come one day. It was only a matter of time until he finally let you go.

“It’s hard,” you continue, fiddling with your shoelace, “keeping up friendships when I’m so far away.”

“We’re not friends, though.”

This makes you look at him. Your eyes snap to the side of his face, vision tinged red at the edges.

“What?” you bite.

“We’re not friends,” he repeats, still looking out over the water.

“Since when?”

“Since you came home that first Christmas.”

Your muscles ease and your eyes close as he says this and you realise where he’s going. You know what he means, the final weeks of 1986 fizzing behind your eyelids like old reels of film. A kiss spurred by booze and weed, hands over jeans and bare skin, the heat of his bedroom in the depths of December.

“Friends don’t fuck,” he says bluntly.

“Sometimes they do,” you retort, opening your eyes. You’re not sure why you’re pushing this, and you hate yourself for making it more difficult than it needs to be.

“No,” he sighs, taking his weight off his hands and sitting upright. “They don’t.”

A stiff silence sits between the two of you like a brick wall. Neither of you speak for a while. You’re not sure what’s going on in his head, but you’re terrified.

“Sometimes,” he begins, startling you, “when you call, it feels like something inside me’s on fire or somethin’.”

This stuns you silent. What on earth is he talking about?

“I don’t know what it is. I really hated you after you went back that first time and didn’t call for weeks, but then you did call and I didn’t hate you anymore, which made me so mad.”

Though your eyes are trained on a rogue stone that has made it onto the blanket by his knee, you can see the way his face contorts as he speaks in your peripheral vision.

“We’re not friends,” he says again, “because friends don’t do what you do.”

Again, you say nothing, breathing too heavy, throat like a snare.

You hear him breathe deeply again.

“Every time you come home I think it’s gonna finally mean somethin’, but you always leave.”

“Eds, I-”

“I know I encourage it, but, like… I guess you get my hopes up.”

There’s a heat blazing under your skin now. It’s everywhere, clawing up your arms and legs, scratching at the expanse of your back and up your neck.

Again, Eddie’s words seem to stall somewhere in his throat, like he’s saying them against his will.

“Friends don’t… They don’t hold hands, or kiss while they cook dinner together, or- or feel like this.”

He sighs, shoulders dipping, and it’s then you see he’s sweating. From the heat or from anxiety you can’t tell, but it’s there, seeping slowly through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

With those words, something inside you cracks. A chasm opens, splits something deep within.

“What do you mean?”

You’re not sure if the words come out this way, but it feels like you’re pleading, like you’re on your knees for him, begging.

“This,” he repeats impatiently, gesturing between the two of you, never meeting your eye. “Waiting for you to come home so we can fuck for three weeks and then having my heart broken again every time you leave and don’t call.”

You draw in a crackling breath of hot air and wonder if this is what suffocating feels like.

“Eddie,” you whine, “this isnt- you can’t…”

“Why can’t I?” he snaps, and the sharpness hits you like a whip. He finally looks you in the eye and you find a familiar pleading sorrow on his face. “If you can leave every time, why can’t I do it once?”

“I thought that was all you wanted,” you say in a whisper, scared of his sharp edge. “I never… I thought all you wanted was to fuck.”

You spit the final word, failing to hide the disgust in your voice. The lake feels miles away, the incessant buzzing of flies oppressive and cruel, the shifting sun lapping at your skin like an open flame. There’s no shade to hide under now.

“I just… I always thought I was just another girl, or just another fuck,” you admit spitefully.

“What the fuck gave you that impression?” he bites back, making you flinch.

“I dunno, I just… I dunno.”

“And I’m not just another guy? Just another fuck?”

“No!” you shout, too loudly for the stillness of the lake. A bird nearby takes flight.

“So you’re tellin’ me you’re not out fuckin’ guys at college?” he asks bitterly, eyeing you. “Seriously?”

“No,” you sigh, grateful for the sense of relief being honest has granted you. “No, Eds, it’s only you. Only ever been you.”

You watch as he eases, rolling his shoulders, leaning back on his hands again.

“Well, shit,” he whispers.

You breathe an awkward, stilted laugh, looking out over the water again.

“I guess… I guess the distance made it worse,” you say, riding the honesty wave.

“What?” he asks, looking up at you again.

“How I felt - feel - about you. I didn’t call because it was too painful, I couldn’t cope with how far away you were. Or any of you, Robin, Steve, Nance… I didn’t eat for weeks.”

“You never-”

“I know I never told you. I’d been so set on college, and on leaving Hawkins, I couldn’t bear to admit I actually missed it. It was just easier to cut it off.”

“So,” he says with brows furrowed in confusion, “why did this happen every time you came home?”

“The first time was an accident,” you say, laughing awkwardly again. “I’d spent three months trying to get over you and then I went back after Christmas and you were all I could think about again, and then coming home was all I thought about, too, and then I figured the distance would make it impossible so I guess I took what I could get and-”

“Wait, wait. Get over me?” He repeats your words with bewilderment.

“Yeah, Eds,” you laugh, lighter this time. “I’m surprised it wasn’t, like, painfully obvious.”

He just continues to look at you with that bemused twist of his face.

“It’s such a cliché! A crush on your best friend, and all the mags say it never works out, and it was easier to just try to forget about you, but then…”

“Tammy’s party.” He says it like it’s a profound realisation, like it isn’t the most obvious thing in the world.

Tammy’s party. There’d been loud music and loads of beer, and you’d come home from college a little more confident and dressed a little more grown up, and Eddie had pulled you into a room to smoke a joint and before you knew it you were in your underwear in Tammy’s guest bedroom, laid underneath your also-naked best friend, kissing him silly with your hands all over him.

“Yeah.”

“Christ,” he sighs, throwing his head back with his eyes closed.

“I guess you were right,” you say, looking back at the water. “Friends don’t act like we do.”

He hums and sits back upright, reaching over his head to pull his shirt off. And then he stands, shirt discarded, and begins to unzip his jeans.

“Eddie, seriously, you cannot want to do this right now.”

“Wha- What? No, Jesus, what is wrong with you…”

“What are you doing then?!”

“Going swimming! It’s fucking hot.”

He pulls his sneakers and socks off, shimmies out of his jeans, his pale legs damn near sparkling in the sun, and kicks them at you. You catch them, groaning, and fold them before putting them down and begin taking your own clothes off. Once you’re down to your bra and pants you stand and run, following him to the water where he stands, looking like an idiot in his underwear, knee-deep in the lake.

“You know,” he starts, reaching out to take your hands as you enter the water slowly, “I was waiting for the day you never came back.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” you respond, the grizzly heat suspended by the sensation of the water around your calves. The two of you wade deeper until you can just about stand, heads and shoulders above the surface.

“Why would you want me?” He brings a wet hand to your face, moving your hair behind your ear and holding you there.

“Jesus, Eddie, this is so cheesy.”

“Hey,” he chastises, playful tone reemerging, “don’t ruin the mood.”

“Why wouldn’t I want you?” you ask, laughing.

“‘Cos I’m me.”

There’s a sorrow somewhere in those words that pulls you in.

“Eddie,” you say, holding his hand on your face with your own, “exactly.”

He smiles.

“Y’know I said… When you call, and I get that, like, fiery feeling?”

You hum in acknowledgement, thumb smoothing over the back of his hand.

“Christ, okay… Okay.” His eyes are everywhere but on yours. It’s funny, seeing him nervous like this. Eight years of friendship, four of something more, and it could never have prepared you for this version of Eddie.

He’s huffing and suddenly, for the first time since Tammy’s party, kissing him seems unreasonable.

“I- Fuck, I-”

“I love you,” you say first, and the grin that breaks with the admission feels like home.

The wind’s knocked out of you when his arm comes round your middle, movements slowed by the water. He pulls you so your chest hits his as he kisses the words from your mouth. 

You’ve kissed Eddie a thousand times, some in the darkness of his bedroom, some in the pale morning light in his kitchen, and even some in secret at parties or when Wayne wasn’t looking, but this is different.

Rather than a quick kiss, or a breathy attempt at one, this is like a declaration. He’s moving against you like water over stone, smooth and solid. He’s so warm, skin blooming under the sun; you feel it under your fingers where they’re splayed on his shoulder.

He pulls back and breathes loudly before moving his mouth against your cheek and onto your jaw. Into the skin of your neck, he says, “I love you.”

You can’t help but think about how silly the two of you must look, standing shoulder-deep in the lake in your underwear like some kind of baptism. 

You stand like that in the water, faces hidden in a strange kind of embrace, for a while before you move back towards the shore. He follows you out, and when he shakes his damp hair like a dog you copy him. The two of you laugh, bodies bumping, the closeness a comfort now rather than a suffocation.

“I’m sorry,” you say as you lie in the sun, your head in his lap, drying off under the heat.

“Huh?” He looks down at you, his hair like heavy curtains around his face.

“I’m sorry for making you feel so shit.”

“Oh,” he says, drawing shapes on your stomach with the pads of his fingers. “It’s okay. You felt shit, too.”

“That doesn’t make it okay.”

“No, but I forgive you.”

“Thanks, Eddie.”

He looks back at the water and as you stare up at him, you think about all the times you came home to the solace of his bedroom. The nights you slept there, wrapped up in one another, feeling him breathe beside you; the times you told yourself you were doing it because it was cold, and he was warm, and that was it. And you think about all the lines crossed, the affectionate glances, thumbs on cheeks and fingers in hair while you watched a movie.

“Eddie?”

He hums and looks back down at you.

It takes you a moment.

“Love you.”

He breaks out in a smile, a wide grin you’ve missed so much.

“Love you too,” he says.

-