#but the list is long enough as it is

[utilitycaster]

There are actually only two genres of high fantasy:

Once there were more dragons and more magic in this land, but those days have passed; perhaps the dragons shall return some day and bring a new era.

How the FUCK do we get rid of these fucking dragons

[bobosbillionsknives]

Only REAL trigun fans will get this! (Manga joke)

[lil-lemon-snails]

Have some low-quality sun screenshots while i stress over colour palettes :)

vvv

Went through SO MANY stages w this design and i'm still not 100% about it BUT- progress is being made (maybe)

Witness my pain

[oceandiagonale]

FINALLY MADE A HEIGHT COMPARISON CHART FOR THE VILLAINS (& gene's squad).... it's been a long time since I've drawn most of them in color so I made some adjustments here and there (archie is still the gen 3/rainbow rocket version)

they weren't originally going to all be wearing the least amount that they'd be comfortable with but. I started looking at a bunch of references and had a ton of fun drawing some different body types,,,,

[mylittleredgirl]

stumbling back to the safety of the castle (star trek fandom) covered in blood from the front lines (the wiki of any other fandom that doesn't separate on-screen canon from random shit that happened in a novel once)

[strawberrypinky]

fic recs - best of 2024 ✨🍓

With 2024 drawing to a close, I have decided to do a "best of 2024" fic rec list. I already did a round of recommendations in May of this year and I loved the positivity I was able to spread by sharing a few kind words about some fics that I have read and loved.

2024 was year of immense personal growth and changes for me (though I suspect 2025 will be equally... challenging) and I haven't read as many fics as I usually would have. However, I still came across quite a few wonderful ones, so without further ado here's my best of for 2024!

This is also me making up for the fact that I don't ever comment on fics. Sorry to the authors of the mentioned fics - I'm usually very awkward, but I promise I loved your fics. Otherwise they wouldn't have ended up on here

Baldur's Gate 3 Arguably the fandom I participated in the most this year after getting the game in January of 2024. I think precious little fandom content has stayed with me as intensely as anything Baldur's Gate, and I am so so appreciative of all the wonderful people I have met through this game. I wish I would've had more time for the amazing content people created (and continue to create!) for this game, alas, here's my top fanfiction for 2024:

❦

dealbreaker [A!Astarion x Tav] - @goodgirlgonebard

❦ Plot: "Dealbreaker" explores the dynamic between Willow (Tav) and an ascended Astarion, as they try to navigate their feelings for one another post breakup and post-brain, both with wishes and desires of their own, such as marriage, children and the possibility of an eternity together. ❦ strawberry's thoughts: I’ve only ascended Astarion once (purely for the plot, of course), and I firmly believe it’s his bad ending. That said, when it comes to fan fiction, I absolutely devour the dynamics between an Ascended Astarion and Tav/Durge, because the toxic complexity of their relationship is endlessly fascinating. Dealbreaker does an exceptional job of capturing the push and pull that defines both Astarion and Willow, even though it portrays A!Astarion in a somewhat softer light. It works perfectly within the context of the story, thanks in part to how delightfully idiotic Willow and Astarion can be when it comes to their own feelings. The blend of drama, fluff, and angst is just right, and I absolutely adore watching them navigate their way through it all together. There's also a song rec at the start of each chapter and Ms Ambs has taste 🤌🏻 Definitely my favourite BG3/Astarion read of the year!

❦

Sonnet of the Lone Cardinal [A!Astarion x Durge] - @brain-rot-central

❦ Plot: After becoming the first ever Vampire Ascendant, Astarion begins to forge a new path for himself. Months after the defeat of the Netherbrain he returns to his former lovers life and the two grapple with the changed dynamics of their former relationship. ❦ strawberry's thoughts: "Sonnet of the Lone Cardinal" delves into a darker exploration of the relationship between Ascended Astarion and a redeemed Dark Urge, yet it remains utterly captivating. The crafted narrative feels both believable and seamless, drawing you into Durge's deeply personal fears as she becomes entangled once again in Astarion's life. The portrayal of her anxiety is so vivid that it transfers to you as a reader. The tension between them feels palpable to you - a sort of nightmare fuel that has you anticipating something bad is going to happen at the next second and you somehow know it will. I'm very curious to see this continue, because it's so beautifully fucked up. ❦ Note: This fic contains dark content.

❦

The Last of the Silverboughs [Halsin & Tav, Astarion/Tav] - Stillmaurauding (AO3)

❦ Plot: Halsin, burdened by the weight of his past, encounteres Lythra, a young Drow woman whose nature leaves him utterly perplexed. Meanwhile she is relentless in her efforts to break free from her own trouble history in Menzoberranzan and the two forge an unlikely bond as they navigate a the journey to Baldur's Gate. ❦ strawberry's thoughts: Considering Halsin's character in the game, I understand why there’s minimal exploration of him as a father figure in storytelling, apart from scenarios involving Tav or Durge making him one. That said, he fits beautifully into the role of a quasi-father to Lythra throughout this narrative. The story delves into some very dark themes, but I’ve truly appreciated the nuanced approach to trauma, especially through Lythra’s character. The progression of the relationships, as well as the tensions within the group, feel very natural and there is enough intrigue with every chapter to make you want to continue. I hope the author eventually picks this up again. I'm also fairly certain they are on tumblr, however, I haven't been able to find them. If anyone knows their handle, let me know. I'd love to give credit where it's due :) ❦ Note: This fic contains dark content.

❦

O, Fortuna [Raphael/Dark Urge] - @gufu-vire

❦ Plot: Post the events of BG3, a redeemed Dark Urge and Raphael renegotiate terms to fulfil a contract sworn upon during the crisis of the Absolute. An adventure fraught with tension, frustration, conflict, and more as the reader partners up with the devil you love to hate ❦ strawberry's thoughts: Most biased spot on this list, especially if you've been following me for a while. I do not read Raphael fics, because while I understand the appeal, he's simply not my guy. However, I've been here for "O, Fortuna" since it was still in early development and Gufu said she hasn't got another longfic/slowburn in her, and thus it's ending up on here. It's definitely the longest fic on this list and quite an emotional journey, but I promise it's worth it. ❦ Note: This fic contains dark content, specifically towards the end.

❦

In Another Life, I Knew You [Astarion/Tav] - spaced_egg (AO3)

❦ Plot: After 200 years of believing him to be dead, Tav is once again faced with her ex-fiancé Astarion, who has little recollection of his life before Cazador. Now having to navigate tadpoles, the end of the world and feelings of both the past and the present, Tav and Astarion journey through Faerûn together. ❦ strawberry's thoughts: When I first read the summary of the fic I was quickly intrigued, because the concept of Tav and Astarion having known each other before he became a vampire offers up so many possibilites and adds layers of depth I really appreciate. "In Another Life, I knew You" does a wonderful job of expanding on their past and focussing on their present situation and as a reader you find yourself easily engrossed into the story. The dynamic between the two of them is written in a very believable way and I dearly hope the author is going to continue the story in 2025.

❦

Judgement by the Hounds [Gortash/Dark Urge] - @septembersummer

❦ Plot: A look into the relationship of The Dark Urge (Seren) and Gortash, from their first meeting up to their shared end. "The rise and fall of the worst situationship of all time" indeed. ❦ strawberry's thoughts: "Judgement by the Hounds" is getting a place in my fic recs for a second time, because it is quite possibly the best portrayal of Durgetash ever. It's basically canon to me at this point, because of how realistic their relationship is depicted (as in, realistic for them). I went through all fives stages of grief reading that story, and I so desperately kept hoping for a happy ending, even if Durgetash are the last people to deserve it. 10/10 fic - there's literally nothing else I can say.

❦

Miscellaneous One Shots/Short stories (Includes the ones I already recommended in May bc let's spread some love): legacy with no memory by @discordsmuse on AO3 - Gortash x The Dark Urge The Weight of A Promise by @sserpente on tumblr [Part 2 is equally good!] - Gortash x Tav/OC kiddo. by @avocado-writing on tumblr. - Gortash & OC to have and to hold by @littlejuicebox on tumblr. - Astarion x Tav choices. by @deadtired-highkeyenergetic on tumblr - Astarion x Tav how to win a custody battle in one easy step. by alltears on AO3 - Astarion x Tav Dangerous by NaeveTheWizard on AO3 - Astarion x The Dark Urge

The Ascendant Takes A Bride by @deadly-diminuendo on tumblr - Astarion x OC lilac and gold by @sorceresssundries on tumblr - Halsin x Tav Until We Wake, also by sorceresssundries on tumblr - Gale x Tav pygmalion's folly by AutopsyGarlands on AO3 - Gortash x Tav The Dark Prince by @reverieblondie on tumblr - Rolan x Tav For Old Times' Sake by @sserpente on tumblr - Gortash x Tav Ma'am by @kimberbohwrites on tumblr/AO3 - Rolan x Tav To Care Enough by @locallegume on tumblr - Astarion x Tav colors of the wind by al9ayf on AO3 - Halsin x Tav To Sever the Thread by anotheropti on AO3 - Shadowheart x Tav

❦

Honourable Mentions: Honourable mentions go out to several artists whose work I have throughly enjoyed throughout the year!

@starrforge - Incredible Halsin x Tav artwork! @lirotation - My favourite Astarionx Tav artwork, including amazing comics! @shellytheleo - Utterly beautiful Bloodweave content @heyitsjaki - THE BEST COMICS. I love how Gale suffers. Immaculate. @infernaldaydreams - Added to the BG3 category for the amazing Durgetash art, but damn if the DA art isn't immaculate as well.

Hogwarts Legacy I left behind Hogwarts Legacy at the start of the year, however one fic has still managed to secure a spot on my best of 2024 list:

merry and bright [Sebastian Sallow x M!MC] - @heyitszev

❦ Plot: Years after having left his magical hometown of Feldcroft, now streamer Sebastian Sallow returns home for the holidays to celebrate his sisters' nuptials. He expects a short visit, until he meets Charlie, Feldcroft's baker and potions master, and realises what he's been missing all along. ❦ strawberry's thoughts: I am a sucker for Hallmark movies - the cliches and predictability are something I eat up time and time again. So when the wonderfully talented Zev decided to write a hallmark fic with a gay couple at its center, I knew I would eat it up. "merry and bright" is perfect in taking itself serious enough yet also allowing for the typical hilarity and easygoing nature of Hallmark movies. The main characters are adoringly clueless yet charmingly witty and I cannot get enough of the dynamics between all of them.

Dragon Age: The Veilguard Having not played the first three DA games, I know precious little about the universe as a whole. I have several opinions on the game/plot itself, but the community has created some incredible content that deserves to be honoured and appreciated!

❦

Rookie [Viago de Riva & F!Rook, Lucanis Dellamorte/F!Rook] - @marcell-arts

❦ Plot: Rook (or "Rookie") de Riva navigates growing up as a Fledgling of House de Riva as a former slave, before eventually becoming the Hero of the Veilguard. ❦ strawberry's thoughts: Confession time: there’s nothing I love more than a good 'found family' dynamic, especially when it includes a reluctant father/brother figure. That trope alone is usually enough to win me over. I stumbled upon this fic late one night when it had about 15 chapters. Safe to say, I didn’t get much sleep because I was hooked from the very first chapter. The writing is absolutely phenomenal, with pitch-perfect pacing (seriously, it’s masterful) and just the right blend of detail, headcanons, and canon divergence. It manages to stay true to the game while carving out its own identity, and the dynamic between Rook and Viago is equal parts heartwarming and hilarious - ultimate tsundere/reluctant dad meets the kid he practically scooped out of a dumpster energy. Additionally, the relationships Rook forms before teaming up with Varric add so much depth and dimension to her as an original character; they really make her feel alive. This is hands-down one of the best fics I’ve read all year, and I still can’t believe it’s the author’s first.

❦

Misdirection [Emmerich Volkarin/F!Rook] - @jainydoe (AO3)

❦ Plot [AU Setting]: Working for the FBI, being a Professor and a single dad has left Emmerich celibate for years, but the return of his estranged ex wife renders him desperate enough to sign up for a Sugar Dating Website, through which he meets the disaster that is Rook, a broke college student equally as desperate as him. ❦ strawberry's thoughts: The prose of this fic is absolutely fantastic, but what really gets me is the humour. Rook is such a disaster that I can't help but laugh every five seconds and yet "Misdirection" manages to be serious enough that it never comes across as silly or irritating. Emmerich's characterisation, specifically the struggle between his hopeless romanticism and hurt, is written beautifully illustrative and I'm endlessly curious to see where the entire fic will eventually lead.

That's it for my 2024 fic recs! I will definitely be doing this again in 2025, because it brings me a lot of joy to uplift so many fantastic creators and their work. I would love to know what everyone else's "best of" fics were this year, so feel free to drop some wonderful recommendations! Let's create positive and loving spaces for each other, especially in times like these.

For now, Merry Christmas to those celebrating!

Much love xx

[jellyfish-grave]

I thought Tumblr might like this one

[onesnoopyaday]

I AM AT MY LIMIT

Snoopy #90

30/12/2024

description under the cut

[description: a cartoon-style drawing of Snoopy's head. Snoopy is a white dog with black ears. His eyes are shut and his mouth is a horizontal line. There are two large blue teardrops, one under each eye. The text "I am at my limit" is handwritten across the top of the image.]

[crookedfivefingers]

3.13 | ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ʟᴏʀᴅꜱ

link to the post I accidentally wound up prattling endlessly about in the tags 💀

[vaguely-concerned]

lmao if you're a mourn watch (and possibly other urban-ish based backgrounds too I'm not sure?) mage, when you get the scene with strife coming to pick up emmrich for their date (bless) and he says that 'the thing about your friend is that for a city mage, he isn't afraid to play in the mud' thing, rook puts up the faux big wounded eyes and protests 'hey, I'm a city mage! 🥺'. (to which strife says 'well we can't all be perfect' and stone cold walks away. king. have fun out there with the lightning bugs and your lanky fancylad I've seen his fully unleashed rizz in action and you're a lucky guy <3<3<3)

[ghost-proofbaby]

SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON)

CHAPTER FOUR: CASTLES CRUMBLING

AND HERE I SIT ALONE, BEHIND WALLS OF REGRET. FALLING DOWN LIKE PROMISES I NEVER KEPT.

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: no use of y/n, strong language, angst, mentions of RUMORS of workplace sex scandal, minors dni

☆ WC: 5.4K+

☆ A/N: if you would like to listen to the song that eddie is recording at the end - it is an actual, real life song. :-) it is called "blood sport" by sleep token (one of my favorite bands i get to see live next week!!), and i highly recommend listening to it during your reading. especially the latter half of this chapter.

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

“Alright, so – anyone care to fill me in on what the Hell that was?” 

Matt stands like a disapproving father figure as the band lines up opposite of him just outside the building. Eddie had hoped nothing would be mentioned until they were in the car, but the driver was clearly running a few minutes late.

Three of the boys glance at each other, worried expressions immediately giving up the hoax even as Eddie only shrugs and says, “What do you mean?” 

“Cut the shit, Munson,” Matt had never appeared so livid, so undone by irritation. His usual patience with Eddie is nonexistent, “What’s going on between you and that girl? Is she a past groupie?”

The insinuation gets a scoff out of Gareth. Jeff side-eyes him in warning, but Eddie couldn’t care less, “No, she’s not a past groupie. This was the first time I’d ever-”

“Don’t lie to me,” Matt points an accusatory finger at Eddie, narrowing his eyes, “I am your manager. If you have any unsavory connections with that girl, I need to know so I can decide if we need someone else to organize the event. We are not having another repeat of the Lewinsky scandal.” 

“I knew it! I fucking knew you called it that, too!” Gareth cheers, but he’s quieted by one look from their furious manager.

The Lewinsky scandal had been their code-word for when the tabloids had become convinced that Eddie was fucking an assistant at the label. A girl had even come forward and claimed to have had sexual relations with Eddie, and he had taken heat for it for a full month before the buzzing novelty worn off.

Eddie had only spoken three words to the girl. No, thank you when she’d offered him a mug of coffee during a late night at the studio. He wishes now he’d been less polite. 

And he also finds himself wishing that’s all this was. He wishes you were just another scandal, another terrible rumor spread around. If all the accusations between you two were false, if all the hatred was based on misconstrued circumstances, it would be so much easier. He can talk himself out of that. He can confess to those sins and get off with no more than the order of one hail mary from Matt. 

But you? The reality of all that had happened, both all those years ago and just thirty minutes ago? He can’t find the words. They choke him up, unwilling to leave the cavern of his chest and enter the world, just like all the songs gathering dust as demos. 

“It’s not going to be another Lewinsky scandal,” Eddie scowls, feet shuffling against the concrete below him. Can’t be another Lewinsky scandal if she wants nothing to do with me anymore, “Maybe she just doesn’t like me. I am allegedly a very polarizing public figu-”

The car pulls up, and Matt is quick to grab Eddie’s shoulder before glaring at the boys, “Get in, I’m not finished with our polarizing public figure yet.” 

Grant and Gareth only let out low whistles, following instruction without lingering as they clamber into the back row of seats in the SUV. Jeff takes his time, though, going as far to pause beside Eddie and place a hand on his back.

“Just tell him the truth, Eds.” 

It’s the final nail in his coffin. Eddie is cursing Jeff’s retreating figure as he climbs into the vehicle and shuts the door, leaving him alone with Matt. 

“Explain,” Matt demands, “Now.” 

Eddie’s eyes focus on a gaping crack in the sidewalk, jagged and uneven, right down the center. 

He has two options. He could continue to lie, insist he knows nothing about you until Matt just gets bored of not being offered the truth. Or he could admit it all, reveal the muse behind the art he had been fiercely protecting over these last few months. Every line, every chord, every broken note that had left his lungs during those witching hours in the studio. 

On one hand, it’ll rip away the opportunity that has been offered to him on a silver platter – the opportunity for closure. Selfish, bloody closure that neither of you had gotten, it seemed. But on the other hand, it might grant him some sympathy. Matt, the label, the producers – they had all grown tired of the dance Eddie led them in every time they’d inquire about the music. But if Matt knew-

It’s a dead end trail of thought. He knows he won’t admit to the worst of his atrocities he’s committed. No scandal, no late night ending with him in handcuffs, no fraudulent headline is going to compare to what he did to you. What you did to him.

It’s a little too late for damage control, anyways.

“I went to high school with her,” the lie works well enough, easing some of Matt’s frustration, “I was just shocked to see her. All of us were shocked to see her. No big deal.” 

Eddie knows the people around him have come to learn that they must pick and choose the battles they engage in with him. And he can see that decision flash across Matt’s face as he decides that this is not a battle necessary to the war.

“Alright. But if you’re lying to me-“

“I’m not lying.”

“If you are, that’ll be one of my last straws, Munson.”

It won’t be. Eddie knows it won’t be. Everyone, every single goddamn person in this world it seems, is capable of giving Eddie Munson unlimited chances — except you. You, it seemed, were the only person who had come to their senses. 

You always were smarter than people gave you credit for.

—

“Run the track again.” 

They’d spent a few hours in the studio already. It was an odd hour for them to be haunting the space, more used to visiting in the dead of night rather than the middle of a weekday, but it was down to the wire now. Vocals needed to be recorded, instrumentals fine-tuned, tracks properly mastered. Eddie could no longer hide in the night when it came to recording the haunting melodies stained with the blood of his past — no matter how wrong it felt to see a sliver of sunlight breaking through one of the windows, just through the top of the blackout curtains.

“I really think that was the one, man-“ the producer starts, probably just tired after repeatedly running in circles with Eddie’s perfectionism.

He doesn’t care. He’s paying them, they can stand to let him re-record as many times as necessary to satisfy Eddie, “Run it again.” 

The silence only continues to buzz in Eddie’s headphones. He’s ready to cuss out the producer as he angrily shoves them down, off his ears and hanging loosely around his neck, the wire a leash as he whips to face the one-way glass wall. The lights are off at the main board, guaranteeing that they can see Eddie but Eddie can’t see them.

Until suddenly, the light comes back on, and the reason for the absence of the repeated track Eddie had requested becomes obvious.

Gareth.

He stands at the center of it all, a few paces from the seated producer with a deep scowl on his face. 

“What the fuck?” Eddie says, mouth just close enough to the mic for them to catch his overflowing annoyance, “I said-“

“We heard what you said, Eddie,” Gareth interrupts, his voice just loud enough to be faintly heard even as the headphones curl around the nape of Eddie’s neck, “But I need to talk to you.” 

It’s the strictest tone that Gareth has used on their lead singer in an unfathomably measure of time. Probably because it’s the most words he’s said to Eddie in a very long time, as well.

Eddie finally removes the headphones, hanging them carelessly on the mic stand and moving towards the door — surprisingly, without putting up a resistance.

The control room is warmer than the fairly large area that served as a ‘booth’. Smaller, as well. Cramped with a low couch and one too many chairs available to trip over, the control board spanses the entire wall that holds the oversized window into the recording room. A plethora of small lights twinkle like stars, and numerous switches that Eddie had come to know better than the back of his hand alternate positions to guarantee the clearest sound. Only Gareth and the producer occupy the room, the rest of the band having taken off around the fifth time Eddie had requested a redo of his vocal tracking.

“This better be good,” Eddie complains, furrowing his brows, agitated at the interruption. 

But Gareth shows no remorse, “We need to talk.” 

“Yeah, you said that already.”

“We need to talk,” Gareth repeats, eyes flickering to the poor soul still seated at the controls, “Alone.” 

Eddie hardly has to open his mouth, the man jumping out of his seat the moment the lead singer flicks his wrist to signal for him to leave.

Whatever Gareth was about to say had to be important, and it’s that thought rather than the difference in temperatures that has sweat building on Eddie’s brows.

Is he about to quit the band? Is he about to tell me he’s had enough? Maybe he’s done with my bullshit — I would be.

“Speak, Emerson,” Eddie flatly insists, grabbing a small water bottle out of one of the mini fridges in the room before he throws himself onto the worn leather of the couch, “And make it quick. We’re on a time limit, you kno-“

“We’ve gotta talk about her, man.” 

Her as in you. 

For a moment, Gareth sounds like a friend again. He’s dropped all the persistent perturbation he’s taken to defending himself with when it comes to  Eddie, his voice pleading as he stands before the distant man. All the rueful power plays that had developed over the last year vanish. It’s just Eddie and Gareth, bandmates who started out in the latter’s garage in some small Indiana town. Not Eddie Munson, infamous rockstar with a chip on his shoulder. Not Gareth Emerson, passionate drummer overshadowed by the ego of his lead singer. Just Eddie and Gareth.

 “We all know you didn’t tell Matt the truth.” 

“I did tell him the truth-“ 

“Not the whole truth, then. There’s no way he’d let it slide if he knew that she was your ex-girlfriend.” 

The defiance vacates Eddie’s body quickly. He doesn’t even attempt to prowl his mind for a quick quip in response. All he does at the words is drop his shoulders, the defeat creeping up on him as he deflates. 

Ex-girlfriend. The title feels so pitiful to truly describe what you were to him. 

But to be fair, even when he had been in your good graces, girlfriend had also never felt significant enough.

“Did-“ Gareth starts after a beat of silence, noting the way Eddie couldn’t quite hide his wounds on the topic, “What did you guys talk about? When you went after her, what did she say?” 

“Nothing important.”

Eddie turns into a shell, a zombie as he stares straight ahead and tries to compartmentalize. That always worked; with meetings, with arguments, with lectures. Even before the fame, it worked.

It doesn’t work quite as quickly when it comes to you. His brain, it seems, is incapable of uncrossing all the wires you twist within his brain.

“You two were alone for, what, ten minutes? And you’re telling me she didn’t say anything important?” 

“What the fuck is there to say?” Eddie laughs soullessly, “Oh, hey, stranger! Remember me? The guy you up and left without a word?” 

“Yes!” Gareth shouts unexpectedly, “Yes, that’s exactly what you should have done! She left. Not just you, but all of us. We never even really knew why. And now- what? Are we just supposed to pretend we don’t know her?” 

Eddie knew why. She’d never had to say it, and that was the issue. He always thought about all the answers he swore he craved, and always let every question he claimed to have haunt him during the waking hours. But when the day turned to night, when he was left to nothing but his own devices in a dark and empty apartment during the witching hours, he knew. The question of why had been answered since the first phone call cut short with you during that goddamn tour.

The songs knew, too. He supposes it had been an arrogant assumption to believe the band had read into his lyrics and put the pieces together. 

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do,” Eddie nearly whispers, throat tightening and fighting him on the words. It’s the opposite of what he wants and needs — but it’s what you want and what you need. And so he plays the messenger, even as it kills him, “We are going to completely disregard my past with her. We are going to treat this entire situation as professionally as possible. I’m talking the full nine yards: you will not mention the fact that we know her, you will not question her about anything from the past, and you will not, under any circumstances, ask her why.” 

His own set of rules he’d privately set for himself in his own mind during the car ride over. 

Gareth squints his eyes in disbelief, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Are you serious?”

“Deathly so.”

“This isn’t just about your past with her,” the boy nearly passes, starts to reach up to tug on his hair before he thinks better of it, “This is about the way she left all of us. Not just you. She was a friend to all of us. She was the one who taught me how to tape my drums when I’d bust a hole in them, she was the one who helped us design our first merch, she was the only person any of us would let be in the room during practices. And not just the band stuff, either,” Eddie watches tears form in Gareth’s eyes, “She was the only one who had the patience to help me with my fucking math homework back in school, man. She was the one who nearly curb stomped Jason Carver the week he sent Grant home with a black eye. She was the first person Jeff called when his parents broke news of their divorce, for fucks sake. Not me, not you, not any of us — her,” Gareth’s breaths come out as pants as he stops his pacing and stands before Eddie. The tears continue to lace his bottom lash line as he heaved silently at the end of his rant, his pained expression completely unexpected to Eddie. 

This is the part Eddie chooses to forget. He’ll let himself swim in the memory of you late at night, he’ll indulge in vices that always amplify his pain rather than succeeding in his attempt to numb it, he’ll stare down the mirror each morning and curse the reflection he finds with all the blame in the world he is capable of holding in the palms of his hands. But in all the ruptures of his own old scars, he fails to consider that he is not the only one burdened with loss. 

They all lost you. When Eddie lost you, so did the band. You’d become a ghost to more than just your abandoned lover — you’d become a tired haunt to boys you’d known, boys you’d befriended and burrowed your way into the lives of, just as well. 

“She was our friend,” Gareth chokes out, fists curling at his sides, “Jesus Christ, I- I get it. She was everything to you. Whatever. But she meant a lot to the rest of us, too. Whatever happened wasn’t just some isolated event — you two didn’t just hurt each other. You set off whatever bomb erased her from our lives, but it left the rest of us with some damage, too. Don’t forget that.” 

This is the part where Eddie should apologize. This is the part where, once upon a blissful time, he would have said his repentance. 

He doesn’t.

“I don’t care how hurt anyone is,” he lowly responds, eyes unable to meet Gareth’s any longer, “I’ve told you the rules, we’re going to follow them. End of discussion.” 

Gareth throws back his head, and Eddie winces at his scoff, “She’s not your fucking property, Eddie! She isn’t solely yours to keep or whatever the fuck you think you’re doing!” 

Eddie can’t even deny the action of keeping you. All the demos, all the songs laid to the grave because he couldn’t stomach the thought of releasing them for others to experience. 

But that’s not what this was. This, the cataclysm that was sending Gareth to finally release all this pent up frustration, was him following your rules. You’d made your wishes for this project very clear, and he needed to at least try to respect them. They all did. 

So he takes on the role of the bad guy. He lets them paint him as the villain if it means no red will stain your ledger. 

“Oh, I think she’s made it very clear that she isn’t mine,” the mask slips on far too easily for Eddie. Cool demeanor, compartmentalizing. Not you, but his emotions towards his friends, if he could even still call them that. His bandmates that he had once seen as brothers. “Doesn’t change what I said. Don’t push it, Emerson, or there’ll be Hell to pay.” 

“What are you going to do? Disappear on us?” Eddie finally looks back up to meet Gareth’s fiery gaze as he spits out hateful words, “Hate to break it to you, but you already left this band behind two years ago. And if you ask me, you should start leaving the vanishing act to her. At least she doesn’t make us pay for her mistakes.” 

Eddie is by no means done with the conversation, more than willing to continue fighting with Gareth, but the other boy clearly feels differently. He leaves his words hanging in the air as he spins away, storming out of the door, the air in the studio now several degrees hotter now with the irate fuel of the fight.  

It was all a blood sport. All of it. It didn’t matter if Eddie was fighting with the band, the management, with you. It was all bloody and fruitless, and it all left him the same awful type of hollow in the end. 

He stares blankly at the wall as he makes a silent decision.

By the time the producer has timidly returned to the room, Eddie has already set up his laptop to connect to the studio's system, prepped so that any recording would automatically copy into his personal hard drive. A way for him to listen and ruminate in the privacy of his own apartment. 

The sheet music torn from his notebook already lays at the table besides the entrance to the booth. 

“Do you… want to run the track again?” the man, the stranger, asks. He clearly heard the fight. Eddie and Gareth hadn’t been exactly quiet in their screaming match. At least, Gareth hadn’t been. 

Is it really a screaming match if only one side fights back? 

“I want to lay a new track,” Eddie’s voice is deadpan as he clicks a few buttons, finalizing everything. He only needs the man to click record, “A raw piano and vocal demo. We can add the rest of the band later.” 

“I-“

One look from Eddie, hardly passed over his shoulder with a glimmer of unbridled determination, and the man quiets as he takes his seat. 

Eddie storms into the booth without another word, fist curled around the page of lyrics and terribly hand-drawn music clefts. 

She isn’t yours to keep.

Eddie was aware of that. Painfully, painfully aware. But it had never been about his claim to you. 

Gareth was right. Eddie never wanted to own you. Keeping you, however, had been something he should have taken more care with.

The chill of the small room to record in does little to lessen the flames eating Eddie up as he bypasses the assembly of various instruments all crowded in the space. Gareth’s drum set, Jeff’s guitar, Grant’s bass — he storms right past them, eyes locked on the grand piano in the fair corner. It took up the most space, far too large to have been forced to be contained within this compact room. 

Eddie drags the mic from where it had been stationed previously with him, quickly and recklessly resetting it at the piano. 

Once he’s seated on the bench, crumpled pages thrown up onto the music desk of the piano and headphones snug over his ears again, the producer finally clicks on his mic to speak.

“Hey, uh… Does this demo have a name by chance? Or do you just want to label it as an unknown for now?”

It certainly does have a name.

“Blood Sport,” Eddie spits out. “Just name the file Blood Sport.” 

The hum that would indicate to Eddie when those on the other side of that glass window were speaking clicks off, and he takes it as his cue.

He’d written the song a while before. There were some gaps in the lyrics, some notes he’d played with on his personal piano scribbled over and never replaced. He’d never played it in its entirety before. 

It starts slow. His fingers hold the ivory keys delicately, arranging for the first opening notes as if he were slotting his knuckles against your own for the first time over again.

She isn’t yours to solely keep. 

Were you ever his to keep, ever? 

Even the ivory keys of the Steinway are more solid than you ever were. You were nothing more than water, than blood, destined to slip between Eddie’s fingers. He never stood a chance in having you, in holding you, in keeping you. 

Not just now, but before all the blood shed, as well. He should have recognized Cassandra’s curse the first day he looked into your eyes. He should have known the twist in his stomach was only Fate sinking its claws into the two of you. 

A tale fit for a Shakespearean stage — a tragedy always meant to be.

“I want to roll the numbers, I want to feel my stars align again.” 

Eddie’s voice is soft to match the steady beat of piano notes that emit from the crooked curl of his hand against the keys. A soft thump, a gentle lull. And instead of losing himself in the music, he finds himself wrapped up in one of the many memories he’d chosen to lock away for the last two years.

Something was off. 

Eddie’s stomach had twisted with anxiety of something being wrong for weeks. You stopped answering his calls, his texts, every form of connection with him. But as he stood in front of the door to your shared apartment, the bile rose even higher in his throat. 

He smelt the decay of what he had done before his key had even entered the lock. 

“Would you invite me again? Won’t you pay for your arrogance? Won’t you show me your weakness?” 

You were never his to keep. 

His voice nearly cracks as he approaches the first chorus, not finding the strength behind the vocals he’d always envisioned for the song.

The click of the door opening echoed through the apartment. It felt empty the moment he’d crossed the threshold – you could have just been tucked away in the bedroom, or even in the bathroom, but he knew. 

You hadn’t been returning his phone calls. You hadn’t been returning his texts. He knew something had happened, something had changed. Irreversible damage had been done, and he would now have to face the mess he’d created to return home to. 

“I made loving you a blood sport.” 

He repeats the line until it rings in his head, over and over. Until he swears the words could crack his bones, and the stars that will show in the night sky will do nothing but mock him for the self-inflicted pain.

At first, he convinced himself you just weren’t home. You’d gone to the store or to see friends. You’d be home soon enough and then, the two of you could scream at each other all you wanted. You were angry with him, rightfully so, but he’d rather you yell and scrap with him than the alternative. He didn’t care. Because he was here, back in the flesh and willing to take any and all cruel words you had sharpened for him. The two of you would fight, yes, but at least that meant there was still something there worth fighting for.

After the first three hours, he realized with a sinking stomach that the alternative might just be his reality. 

“I want to be forgiven.” 

He recalls the look on your face when you’d first seen him today. The fall of your act, the discarding of grace and composure.

The look that told him that he can want all he’s capable of. He can want, he can crave, he can yearn, he can tear himself apart bit by bit with his feeble yet shattering cravings — it won’t change a thing. 

You were never his to keep.

After the clock struck the fifth hour of his return, he started his calling.

Over and over and over, he was met with your voicemail. Endless messages spoken and sent alike. Every single one trying to be gentle as they inquired where you were. Letting you know he was back. Going as far as to ask you if the two of you could talk. 

He wanted to fight. He wanted to fight, because it meant you still saw something worthy within him.  

But even more than Eddie wanted a fight, he wanted you to come home. He wanted you to be there, to welcome him into your safety and remind him he was human again. It was selfish – he was so goddamn selfish – but he needed to feel your skin against his and remind him that he was still a person beneath it all. Beneath the demand, beneath the unwarranted adoration from strangers, beneath all the fractures the sudden traction had left him with – he was still a breathing, living person. He was still your person. 

Eddie’s fingers begin to slam against the keys with increasing urgency as his chest heaves out with every syllable. Repeating, and repeating, and repeating the chorus as if it changes a single thing. He loses himself in it all; in the music ringing in his ears and the memories now drowning him as he confesses all his sins to the microphone. 

You never came home. 

There was no fight, and after the hours reached double digits right along with his ignored phone calls, he had to accept the truth.

You weren’t just at a friend’s, or the store. You were gone. Truly, truly gone.

The drawers once filled with your belongings were vacant. The smell of your perfume was nothing more than a whisper across the pillows. Eddie scoured the entire apartment for signs of you, turning every single piece of furniture over looking for clues. He never thought to check the counter until he’d already ruined the space, terrorizing it in a frenzy before his eyes landed on the letter and the key.

He had approached them both hesitantly. All his denial drained from his body, like the blood pumping through his veins, as his fingers pinched that silver key so gingerly.

A past he can never return to. A home he will never hold the key to again. 

The joints of his fingers ache and his lungs begin to burn for all that he lost — all that they all lost — because of him. His  own foolishness, his own downfall. He did this. 

The aftermath is blurry.

He read the first few words of your letter before promptly crumbling it with his tortured fist, knowing exactly what it said without needing to fully swallow all the words just yet.

He never fully read the letter. He skimmed it, a week later, but not that night. 

Then came the flashes of the pain. The way he’d swung his fists at air and menial objects alike. A vase holding wilted carnations met its demise on the kitchen floor, a hole in the wall appeared that he later had to patch up, one of the coffee tables ended up across the living room with a leg splintered half off. 

He never dropped the key. 

Even as he dropped to his knees in the center of the broken glass, bleeding shins to match his bruising knuckles, he still held that small piece of silver fiercely. He pressed it so tightly, dug it so deeply into his palm that it later left a scar. And not even the way he had grabbed at the broken glass surrounding him had the capability to mar it away as he let it slice his skin, crying out, hopeless and devastated. 

You were gone. He had lost you, and he had been arrogant enough to never even notice it.

“You say it doesn’t matter.” 

The headphones had long since slipped off his head, and he makes no move to adjust them. He hadn’t even noticed that his body had begun to fall forward and curl into the piano until he’s weakly choking out the final lyric that he hadn’t even written down onto the page. 

He hadn’t noticed the tears falling, either.

What were meant to be gasps for air as his fingers fly across the keys in a haunting melody are only sobs. Cries of pain as he no longer can see mere inches ahead of him, a scar of the center of his palm stinging as if brand new, his heart and head pounding in sync. He isn’t even sure if the producer he’s forgotten the name of is still recording. He lets the sobs slip out as he continues to play. 

He can’t quite end the song yet. The moment he does, he’s terrified of the version of him that he will have to face once more. All those surface blemishes from the beginning of the end had run deeper beneath his skin. He was nothing more than rubble and fractures now, splintered every which way until he had become unrecognizable. When he looked in the mirror, all he could see was a creature of destruction.

“You set off whatever bomb erased her from our lives, but it left the rest of us with some damage, too. Don’t forget that,” Gareth’s voice echoes in the silence beginning to gather between the notes.

Another wrecked sob leaves Eddie as he finally finishes off the melody, playing entirely unaffected up until that point. Reality crashes down. His body shakes, shoulders hunched as his forehead connects against the freezing wood of the piano and he pinches his eyes shut tightly enough to be left in total blackness. 

He couldn’t play another note if his life depended upon it.

The memory fades with the final note before his head rattles with a new image. The smile, the grimace, you had offered him before you two parted ways today. An effort at professionalism that Eddie had seen right through. 

Pain. That’s what had twitched in the corners of your mouth. The same pain, if not worse, as the one that now radiated through every atom of Eddie’s broken figure on the piano bench. 

He can’t fix it. Not your pain, not Gareth’s pain, not his own pain. The time for damage control, for sincere apologies and any reconciliation has passed. Just like watered-down blood through his fingertips. 

Eddie hopes that the producer has had half the mind to stop the recording when he stands and slams the drumset behind him into the wall. Destructive, just as he had been the night he returned to an empty apartment. Just as he had been when he’d been the one to rot and wither away all that you two had once held between you. 

They can replace the drum set. Surely, he has a person for that. 

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[fictionadventurer]

Top 5 obscure light vintage novels! (Not sure if my previous ask got eaten, but also curious about this one specifically)

The strictest definition of what I consider "obscure light vintage novels" requires a book to meet a lot of criteria:

Published before 1960

Not recommended to me by anyone I know personally (including on tumblr)

Doesn't have a fancy Oxford-Classics-type edition with an introduction. (And none of the author's other books are well-known enough to have one)

Has a realistic setting

Ideally written by a woman or centered around a female main character

Which means that very few books fit this list. But of those few, here are my top five.

Desire by Una Silberrad: Flawed but fascinating Edwardian novel about an eccentric heiress who meets a soulful author and eventually winds up working for him when she loses her money and he inherits his father's pottery business. Fascinating characters, amazing romance, lots of interesting themes. I'm also going to count the author's other novels in this category, because she's come to epitomize "obscure light classic" for me. The Good Comrade is a much frothier novel with some great characters, and Curayl is highly flawed, but its silver-tongued hero lives rent-free in my head.

The Ark by Margot Benary-Isbert: I finished this book less than twenty-four hours ago (so I could include it on this list). It's a 1953 German novel set in 1947, about a refugee family building a home after the end of the war. It reads like, if you can believe it, a cozy post-apocalyptic novel. These people are living through some terrible things, but they make the best of things and manage to find joy. It's chock-full of fascinating details about life in post-war Germany, and reminds you that the people on that side of the war were human too, losing people and places they loved, and doing their best to live in terrible times. There are some superstitious elements later on that I wasn't crazy about, but otherwise I adored this story.

The Romance of a Shop by Amy Levy: Novel from the 1880s about four sisters who open a photography studio to support themselves after their father's death. Extremely underwritten (one of the girls meets an old flame and marries him between chapters), but a very easy, pleasant read with interesting historical details, and some nice sisterly relationships that remind me just a bit of Little Women meets Oscar Wilde.

The Heir of Redclyffe and Countess Kate by Charlotte Mary Yonge: Books by one of the bestselling authors of the Victorian age who's completely forgotten today. Both get too preachy at times, but make up for it by having amazing characters. The first one is a family saga about cousins caught up in an old feud, and the second is like if Anne Shirley suddenly found out she was a countess.

The Rosary by Florence Barclay: The bestselling novel of, like, 1920. It gets very melodramatic, but I was also surprised at how grounded and witty the characters were. I remember very little about it, but I have fond memories of the reading experience, and it earns a place on this list because when I want to find an "obscure vintage light novel", on some level I'm thinking I want to find a book like this.

I know you didn't ask, but I find myself wanting to list five novels that don't quite meet the strict criteria above, but are close enough that I want to highlight them.

The Dean's Watch and The Rosemary Tree by Elizabeth Goudge: Goudge isn't exactly obscure in this section of tumblr (which is why I heard of her in the first place), but she's obscure enough that a lot of her books are out-of-print or otherwise hard to get, and these two in particular are among the best books I've ever read.

The Blue Castle by L.M. Montgomery: Montgomery is extremely well-known, and this book has an ever-growing and very devoted cult following, so it's not exactly obscure, but it's much less well-known than most of her other books. A deep cut, if you will. It fits perfectly within the light vintage novel category, and has long been one of my favorite novels of all time.

Lady Audley's Secret by Mary Elizabeth Braddon: It's got an Oxford Classics (or similar imprint) edition, and is well-known as one of the very first sensation novels, but it's not exactly known among people who don't deep-dive into Victorian literature. I read this last month and loved it. It's a cozy sensation novel with an amazing main character, great atmosphere, and a plot that manages to grip you even while not much happens.

Mrs. Miniver by Jan Struther: It's not exactly obscure if it has a movie adaptation, but from what I know, the movie basically ignores the book, which isn't that well-known today. Charming slice-of-life from the very early days of WWII England.

Helen by Maria Edgeworth: Not exactly beloved, and Edgeworth isn't exactly obscure, but this is a lesser-known novel that fits well within this category. The first half had some moments that were so dull I considered not finishing, but the second half was gripping enough that I can mention it as a nice, obscure surprise of a book.

[winkle-pickers]

listen i extremely need these two to be bitchy jogging buddies this is my ideal friendship dynamic for them!!!!!!!!!

[lorephobic]

literally nobody asked for it, but here's my list of saltburn essays that i've slowly been drafting over the course of the last week which WILL be required reading for anybody trying to engage with me about this movie. my very personal saltburn 101 syllabus just dropped

A Wolf in Deer's Clothing: Saltburn's Attempt at Innocence

an examination of party costumes and our character's last attempts to masquerade as something they're not: felix—an angel, all-forgiving and all-knowing, something to be worshiped; and oliver—a prey animal, prey to class-divide, prey to saltburn, prey to felix.

thoughts about oliver specifically are loosely organized in my #bambi tag

A Midsummer Night's Mare: Farleigh Start as the Ultimate Victim of Saltburn

a farleigh character study, about the ways he was mistreated and manipulated at saltburn, about fighting to stay alive and the scars left behind by knowing when to give in

alternatively titled "QuickStart", may be adapted into a conclusive essay specifically focusing on oliver and farleigh's relationship

The Eye of the Beholder: On Saltburn's Voyeurism & Violence [working title]

how wealth and class pushes the catton's toward the volatile reality of being able to look, but not touch. on desire and the lack thereof, and portraying yourself as an object to be desired

may end up as two separate essays on wealth and aestheticism but i'm pushing toward a conclusive essay about the intersection of the two, which i feel is at the heart of saltburn

alternatively titled "Poor Man's Pudding: A Melvillian Approach to Saltburn's Class", again, may be adapted into it's own essay

Gender-Fluid: A Study in Sexuality and Saltburn's Desire to be Dry

a deep dive into the bodily fluids of saltburn and how oliver upsets the standard of men who are just so lovely and dry. on the creative choice to lean into the messy wetness of sex and desire and the audience's instinct toward repulsion

a celebration of the grotesque and an examination of why we would label it as such

least developed of the four, heavily inspired by @charnelpit's lovely post about the fluids in saltburn

if anybody is actually interested in any of these, i can work toward something closer to a finished piece instead of just bullet points and quotes in a google doc, but mostly this is so i can share my very brief takes on a multitude of themes in saltburn that have been haunting me

edit for people seeing this in the future: all posts about my essays are being organized into my #saltburn 101 tag if you’re interested in following these through to development!

[farshootergotme]

Has dick really lost that many people? To make a whole ass list?

Well, let's see... (keep in mind I haven't read lots of comics so there could definitely be more than what I'm about to mention)

- His parents.

- A few (Teen) Titans members like Donna Troy (brought back to life), Wally West (more than once if I'm not wrong, but it'll depend which era you're reading) and Jericho (aka. Joseph Wilson). And there could definitely be more but I couldn't say for sure.

- Jason Todd.

- The people who lived in the same building as him who he was friends with, that's around 20 people?

- Haly's Circus was burnt down twice and I know one of those times at least another 20 people died and 100 were severely injured (remember many of the members in the circus were like family to him).

- Do we count the city? Because even though he wasn't close with every single person, Dick genuinely cares for the people of Bludhaven and Deathstroke killed over 100,000 citizens.

- Bruce Wayne (he was technically dead, even if in reality he was lost in time).

- Damian Wayne.

- Alfred Pennyworth.

- Tim Drake has died at least once but I don't know if it's happened in the main continuity or if his death has only happened in an alternative universe.

And I have a feeling there's a bunch of people I'm forgetting, but these are the ones I can mention off the top of my head. Not counting the Bludhaven Citizens, that's around 50 people or so.

If anyone can add more to the list, that'd be great.

[teshiee]

stress doodlleleee hello mr jay ! ! walker