#crash analysis

[evilsciencebox]

i remembered something i eventually wanted to make a post about and idk if its something i'm personally just looking into too much or whatever but it's just been simmering in my mind almost forgotten since march i think.

i thought it'd be kinda interesting if the time/date of the areas (past, future, etc), specifically in relation to n. gin, n. brio, cortex and n. tropy, correlated to the way they think.

n. gin's behaviour in crash 4 kinda says to me that he isn't one to dwell on the past all that much even though he definitely could considering all he's been through. His mind is on his current objective(s), whether that objective is work related or personal is irrelevant because it's about figuring out how he's going to get there and what's next.

n. brio is very obviously caught up in the past and is what's driving him forward at this point. it's a pretty significant thing he talks about in his levels, getting even with cortex being the main one. lamenting the fact that he doesn't truly have any friends either is another.

cortex is a little similar to n. brio albeit different reasoning. he's stumbling a bit on his past failures which i'd say would be hard ignore when you have someone like uka uka to contend with, though it's not really something that holds cortex back. he even tries (fails) to fix his biggest failure by physically going back to the past.

the fact that the year for n. tropy's area is unknown suits him well imo. since time is his speciality he might not always look at things from a particular view in time but also, he's just kinda spiteful which just backfires on himself and his plans considerably no matter the angle he's looking at things from.

i'm not sure if i worded that all in the best way but it's still interesting to me.

[theunholyvirginemilyprentiss]

The BAU on a commercial flight:

EMILY: Stopped and searched at the security checkpoint because she forgot she was wearing an ankle holstered gun. Is the person who kicks your seat and hogs the armrest because gay people do not know how to sit on a chair properly.

JJ: Is the one having her armrest hogged by Emily. Opens a packet of peanuts and gives someone an allergic reaction. Should have stuck with Cheetos…

TARA: “It’s okay, I’m a doctor! Not a doctor of medicine, but I’m sure I can figure it out!”

PENELOPE: Watches movies on her tablet and eats M&M’s like the little iPad kid she is, eventually falling asleep on Morgan’s shoulder during ‘Legally Blonde’.

MORGAN: Shamelessly flirting with the flight attendants and trying to hide the fact that he is watching ‘Legally Blonde’ over Penelope’s shoulder—and loving it.

HOTCH: Reading FBI case files in his sunglasses, not noticing the kid who has been staring at him the whole time thinking ‘damn, James Bond be on this flight.’

SPENCER: Talking to that same kid and his mother, explaining aerodynamics and discussing plane crash statistics. The kid’s mother requests a seat change.

ELLE: Lets Spencer explain aerodynamics to her instead. She swaps her red jello for his orange jello from the airplane meal because red is his favourite.

Check out my Masterlist for more BAU scenarios

[flowercrowngods]

who did this to you. part 3

🤍🌷 read part 1 here | read part 2 here pre-s4, steve whump, protective (but scared) eddie. now with robin!

The number rings in his head, echoing off the inside of his skull and sinking lower and lower until his heart strings join the symphony that leaves him shaking as the memory of Harrington’s slurred voice is drowned out by the dial tone that feels harrowingly like a flatline right now. 

Said I’ll go blind. Or deaf. Or just… die.

Eddie doesn’t really feel like his body belongs to him anymore, or like there’s anything left inside him other than panic and fear and that stupid, stupid shaking that he can’t suppress even as he bites his knuckles. Hard. 

The pain helps a little not to startle too much when the dial tone stops and a female voice begins speaking to him. Still he almost drops the phone, cursing under his breath as he pulls his hair to collect himself and get his voice to work. 

“H— Hi, hello, Mrs Buckley? This is, uh. I. I’m. A friend of Robin’s, could you, uh—“ 

“Oh, of course, dear,” the woman says, and Eddie feels his eyes beginning to prick with how nice she sounds even through the phone. 

Does she know Steve, too? Would she worry if she knew? Would she curse Eddie for not taking him to the hospital right away? Would she blame him if anything happened? 

“I’m sorry? What did you say your name was?” she asks, repeating herself by the sound of it. 

He blanks, for a whole five seconds, before he spots a note stuck to the fridge saying Don’t forget to eat, Eddie :-)

“Eddie,” he croaks. “Uh, Eddie Munson.”

“Alright, Eddie Munson, I’ll see if I can grab Robin for you. You have a good day, dear, yes?” 

No. “Thanks.” 

The hand clenched in his hair pulls tighter and tighter until the tears fall and he can pretend it’s from pain and not from— whatever the fuck is happening. 

He waits, phone pressed to his ear with a kind of desperation he’s never really felt, and never wants to feel again. He doesn’t even know what to tell Robin; what to say. It’s not like they ever hang out or have anything to say to each other, so why would she— 

“Munson?” Robin’s voice appears on the other end, a little too loud for Eddie’s certain state, and he does drop the phone this time, scrambling to catch it and only making the situation worse as it dangles by his knees. 

He drops to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest and reaching for the phone again. 

“Hi.” 

“What do you want? How’d you even get this number? I swear, if you—“ 

“It’s Blue. I mean, Steve. Harrington.” 

That shuts her right up, and Eddie clenches his eyes shut for a moment, hoping to keep the tremor out of his voice if only he takes a moment to breathe. 

The moment stretches. And Robin’s voice is wary and quiet when she speaks again. 

“What about Steve.” 

Eddie rubs his face, leaving more dirt and grime to fill the tear tracks, and clenches his fist before his mouth. 

“Eddie,” Robin demands, dangerous now. Nothing left of the rambling, bubbling mess he knows her to be on the school hallways. “What. About. Steve.” 

“He… He’s hurt.” 

There’s a bit of a commotion on the other end, before Robin declares, “I’m coming over. You tell me everything.” 

“You— I mean, he’s in the hospital with my uncle, so—“ 

“I am. Coming. Over,” she says, enunciating every word as though she were making a threat. Maybe she is. But the certainty in her voice helps a little, anchors him the same way that Wayne’s calmness did. “And you tell me everything.” 

Eddie finds himself nodding along, knowing intuitively that there is nothing that could stop her now. Knowing that he doesn’t want to stop her. 

“‘Kay.” It’s a pathetic little sound, all choked up and tiny. She doesn’t comment on it. 

One second he hears her determined exhale, the next she’s hung up on him and Eddie is greeted by the flatline again. He lets out a shuddering breath and leans his head back against the wall. 

Breathing is hard again, but it’s all he has to do now, all that’s left to do, so he focuses. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Hold. His lungs are burning and there’s something wrong about the way he pulls in air and keeps it there, desperately latching onto it until the very last second, his exhales more of a gasping cough than calm and controlled. 

It takes a while. Longer than it should. But with Harrington’s blood still on his hands, with his heartbeat in his ears so loud he can’t even hear the words Wayne used to say about breathing in through the mouth or the nose or… or something, he— 

He’s fine. He’s home. Wayne’s got Blue, and Buckley is on her way, and… He’s fine. 

People don’t just die. 

They don’t. 

He’s fine. 

Eventually, Eddie manages to breathe steadily, the air no longer shuddering and his hands no longer shaking. It’s stupid, really, being so worked up over someone he doesn’t even really know. Sure, everyone knows Steve fucking Harrington, and everyone sees Steve fucking Harrington — whether they want it or not. He has a way of drawing eyes toward him even if all he does is walk the halls with his dorky smile and that stupidly charming swagger he’s got going on. Always matching his shoes to his outfit.

Eddie can relate.

Always reaching out to touch the person he’s talking to; clapping their back or shoulder, lightly shoving them in jest, ruffling their hair or chasing them through the halls, moving and holding himself like teenage angst can’t reach him. Like he belongs wherever he goes. Like he’s so, so comfortable in his own skin. Like the clothes he wears aren’t armour but just a part of him; a means of self-expression. 

Again, Eddie can relate. He can relate to all of this. 

It’s almost like the two of them aren’t so different after all. Just going about it differently. 

And now he’s… Bleeding. Slurring his speech. Wheezing his breath. And Eddie feels protective. Eddie feels responsible. Like he should be there, like he should get to know more about him. About Steve. About Blue. 

But he can’t. And he won’t. So he gets up with a groan that expresses his frustration and the need to make a sound, to fight the oppressive silence that only encourages his thoughts to run in obsessive little circles, and he hangs up the phone that’s been dangling beside him all this time. 

He needs a smoke. 

He needs a smoke and a blunt and a drink and for this day to be over and for time to revert and to leave him out of whatever business he stumbled into by opening the door to the boathouse and, apparently, Steve Harrington’s life. 

But unfortunately, the universe doesn’t seem to care about what he needs, because just as he steps outside and goes to light his cig, he catches sight of a harried looking Robin Buckley, standing on the pedals of her bike as she kicks them, her hair blowing in the wind to reveal a frown between her brows. A wave of unease overcomes Eddie, an unease he can’t really place. Maybe it’s the set of her jaw, or the tension in her shoulders, or maybe it’s the worry and anger she exudes. 

It never occurred to him before that Robin Buckley might not be a person you’d want to set off. And not because of her uncontrollable rambles. 

“Munson!” she calls over, carelessly dropping her bike in the driveway and stalking toward him. 

Almost as if summoning a shield, Eddie does light the cigarette. Pretends like the smoke can protect him. 

She doesn’t stop at the foot of the steps, though, climbs them in two leaps and gets all up in his space with that unwavering look of determination — so unwavering, in fact, that it almost looks like wrath. Cold. Eddie wants to shrink away from it, not at all daring to wonder what could make her look like that upon hearing that Steve’s hurt. 

I don’t wanna die, Munson. I never… I didn’t. With the monsters or the torture.

But those are the words of a semi-conscious teenage boy beat to a pulp, they can’t— There’s no way. Eddie misheard him, or Steve was talking about some kind of inside joke, using the wrong terminology with the wrong guy. It happens. It happens when you’re out of it, really! The shit he’s said when he was shot up, canned up, all strung out and high as a kite… He’d be talking of monsters, too, and mean some benign shit. 

But the way Harrington looked, none of that was benign. The bruising all over his face, the blood still dripping from the wound by his temple or his nose, the way he held himself, breath rattling in his lungs, or— 

“Hey!” Buckley demands his attention, giving him a light shove; just enough to catch his attention, really, and just what he needed to snap out of it. Still the smoke hits his lungs wrong and he coughs up a lung, further cementing his role of the pathetic little guy today. 

“Hey,” he says lamely, his voice still croaking as he crushes the half-smoked cigarette under his boot. “Sorry.” He doesn’t know for what. But it feels appropriate. 

She shakes her head, rolling her eyes at him as she crosses her arms in front of her chest. 

“Tell me,” she says at last, and even though there is a tremor in her voice, she sounds nothing short of demanding. “I want the whole story, and I want it now.” 

And so he does. He tells her everything, bidding her inside because he needs the relative safety of the trailer even though the air in here is stuffy and still faintly smells blue. He pours them both some coffee and some tea, because asking what she wants doesn’t feel right in the middle of telling her how he found her supposed best friend beat to shit in the boathouse he went to to forget about the world for a while. 

She stills as she listens to him, staring ahead into the middle distance somewhere beneath the floor and the walls, her hands wrapped around the steaming mug of coffee. Eddie stumbles over his words a lot, unsettled by her stillness, her lack of reaction. She doesn’t even react to his fuck-ups. People usually do.

He wants to ask. Where are you right now? What have you seen? What’s on your mind? What the fuck is happening?

But he doesn’t ask, instead he tells her more about Steve. About how he seemed to forget where he was. About the pain he was in. About the smiles nonetheless. The way he reassured Eddie. 

That one finally gets a choked little huff from her, somewhere between a sob and a laugh. 

“Yeah, that sounds like him alright. He’s such a dingus.” 

There is so much affection in her voice as she says it that Eddie can’t help but smile into his mug. 

“Dingus?” he asks, hoping for some lightness, hoping to keep it. 

But the light fades, and her eyes get distant again. Eddie wants to kick himself. 

“Just a stupid little nickname. An insult, really.”

“Oh.” He doesn’t know what to do with that. If he should ask more or if he should say that he has a feeling Steve might appreciate stupid little nicknames. Especially if they’re unique. Especially if they’re for him. But what right does he have to say that now? What knowledge does he have about Steve Harrington that Robin doesn’t? 

So he bites his tongue and drinks his coffee, cursing the silence that falls over them as Robin mirrors him, albeit slow and stilted, like she doesn’t know what to do either. Or where to put her limbs. 

“Wayne’s got him now. I took him here, after the boathouse, because I didn’t know what to do. He said he didn’t want the hospital, said there’s…” He trails off. 

Robin looks at him, her eyes wary but alert. “Said there’s what?” 

It’s stupid. Don’t say it. 

“Eddie?” 

With a sigh, he puts his mug on the counter and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “He said there’s monsters. In the hospital, I mean. He said that.”

Instead of scoffing or at least frowning, Robin clenches her jaw and nods imperceptibly, her eyes going distant again. Eddie blinks, the urge to just fucking ask overcoming him again, but with every passing second he realises that he doesn’t actually want to ask. He doesn’t want to know, let alone find out. 

He just… He just wants to go to bed. Forget any of this ever happened. But he can’t do that, so he continues. 

“Brought him here and Wayne took one look at him and convinced him he needed a doctor. And, Jesus H Christ, he was right. I’ve never… I mean, those things don’t happen,” he urges, balling his hands into fists even in the confined space of his pockets. “Right? I mean… Shit, man.” He bumps his shoe into the kitchen counter; gently, so as not to startle Buckley out of her fugue like state. 

“You’d be surprised,” she rasps, staring into the middle distance again and slowly sinking to the floor. There is a tremor in her shoulders now, barely noticeable, but Eddie knows where to look. Without really thinking about it, he grabs two of his hoodies he’d haphazardly thrown over the kitchen chairs this morning while deciding on his outfit and realising that it was altogether too warm for long sleeves today. But now, right here in this kitchen, the air tinged with blue, they’re both freezing. 

Because fear and worry will take all the warmth right from inside of you and leave you freezing even on the hottest day of the year. 

She barely looks at him when he holds out his all-black Iron Maiden hoodie to her, freshly washed and all that, but she takes it nonetheless, immediately pulling it on. It’s way too large on her, her hands not showing through the sleeves, her balled fists safe and warm inside the fabric. It would make him smile if only it didn’t highlight her stillness, her faraway stare, and the years he has on her. She’s, what, two years younger than him? Three? 

It seems surreal. Everything, everything does. 

Robin Buckley in his home, sitting on his kitchen floor, swallowed by a hoodie that is a size too large even for him, but it was the last one they had in the store and he doesn’t mind oversized clothes, can just cut them shorter when the need arises or layer them or declare them comfort sweaters for when he wants to just have his hands not slip through the sleeves on some days. And now Robin is wearing his comfort hoodie because her best friend was bleeding in his car earlier and then on his couch and now in his uncle’s car, and they never even talk, but he knows that Robin’s favourite colour is blue, but not morning hour blue because that makes her sad; only deep, dark blues. 

Her favourite colour. Her favourite person. 

It’s so fucking surreal. 

He drops down beside her, leaving enough space between them so neither of them feels caged, and mirrors her position: knees to his chest, chin on his forearms. Staring ahead. 

And silence reigns. 

“Your uncle,” she says at last, finally breaking the silence that’s been grating on Eddie’s nerves and looking at him, really looking as she rests her cheek on her forearms crossed over her knees. “Tell me about him.” 

There is a gentleness to her voice now despite how hoarse it is. Maybe she’s just tired, too. And scared. At least the shivering has stopped. 

Still Eddie frowns, confused as to why she should be breaking the silence to ask about Wayne when everything today has been about Harrington. About Steve. About deep and dark blues. 

“Uncle Wayne?” he asks. “Why?”

“Because,” she begins, and sighs deeply, works to get the air back in her lungs. Eddie wants to reach out, but instead he just clenches his fingers a little deeper into the fabric of his hoodie. “My best friend is hurt very badly and the only person with him is your uncle, and I need to know that he’s in good hands. Or I swear to whatever god you may or may not believe in, and granted, it’s probably the latter, but still I swear I’ll give into my arsonist tendencies and burn down this city, starting with your trailer if you don’t tell me that your uncle is a good man who will do anything in his power to make sure that boy gets the help and care he needs. And deserves.” 

Her jaw is set and her bottom lip trembles, but it doesn’t take away from the absolute sincerity in her threat. 

“So, please,” she continues, her voice breaking just a little bit. “Tell me. Tell me about your uncle.” 

Tell me about your favourite person. 

Eddie swallows, and mirrors her position once more, so she can see his eyes and know he’s sincere. Because he’s learned something about eyes today, about how much in the world can change if only you have a pair of eyes to look into. 

And he nods, looking for somewhere to start. “He’s the best man I know. He’s the best man you’ll ever meet.”

She clings to his eyes. Searches them for the truth, beseeching them not to lie. He lets her. 

“Took me in when I was ten, because my dad’s a fuck-up and my mom’s a goner. Took me in again when I was twelve after I ran away. Makes me breakfast and I pretends the dinner I make him is more than edible.” He smiles a little, because how could he not? “He’s my uncle, but still he’s the best parent anyone could wish for. Writes those little notes that he sticks to the fridge, y’know, the one with the smiley face? Tells me to eat, because I forget sometimes. I tell him to drink water, because he forgets. First few years, he’d read to me. And the man’s a shit reader, has some kind of disability I think, and at some point I learned that he wasn’t reading at all. He was telling me stories all the time, conning me into thinking that the books were magic, and that every time I’d try to read the book for myself, the story would change.” 

There’s a lump in his throat now, and his eyes sting again. But Robin doesn’t seem to fare any better than him if her wavering smile is any indication. 

“There’s no one,” Eddie continues, “who will make you believe in magic quite like uncle Wayne. Or in good things. And d’you wanna know what he told Blue when he said he was scared of going to the hospital?” 

Sniffling, Robin shakes her head. 

“He said, Okay. Then we do it scared. And all of that after he just… with that patience he has, told him everything that was gonna happen. And that he’d be there with him through it all. That he knew the doc and wouldn’t let anyone else near him, and that there’s no need to be scared at all.” 

He sighs, breathes, stills. Swallows, before looking back at Robin. 

“So, if there’s one person who’ll make sure that boy gets the help and care he needs and deserves…” 

“It’s uncle Wayne,” Robin finishes his sentence, her voice still hoarse, but Eddie likes to think it’s for a different reason now. 

“It’s uncle Wayne,” Eddie says, nodding along as he does. 

There is something like understanding in Robin’s eyes now, and Eddie hopes it’s enough. Enough to calm the spiking of her nerves, enough to settle the coil of freezing nausea that must reside in the pit of her stomach, enough to let the next breath she takes feel a little more like it’s supposed to be there. 

He wants to say something more, wants to reach out and reassure her that everything will be okay, but he can’t know that. He doesn’t feel like it’s entirely true, let alone appropriate right now. 

There’s something in Robin’s eyes, in the way she holds herself, like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like she accepts his words at face value but doesn’t really believe them. Like she’ll only rest when she’s got her best friend back in her arms and hears the story — the whole story — from him. 

And Eddie doesn’t fault her, because the thing is, he doesn’t know what happened. Steve said that Hagan came at him, but that’s really all he got out of him before he started talking about death and shit, and Eddie really didn’t want to ask any more questions then. 

So they sit there for a while, the silence oppressive and unwelcome, clumsy and awkward; Robin’s mouth opening and closing a lot, like she wants to ask questions but doesn’t dare to ask them — and Eddie doesn’t know if he’s glad about it or not. Doesn’t know if he wants to hear the kind of questions asked with that kind of stare. 

It is only after a long while, when Robin’s shoulders start shaking again and she buries deeper into the hoodie and her own spiralling thoughts, that Eddie breaks the silence again, replaying in his head the last moment between him and Steve. 

“He’s not gonna break,” he tells her, aiming for gentle and reassuring. 

What he doesn’t expect is the minute flinch, the jolt shooting through her body and the pained expression it leaves her with. What he doesn’t expect is what she says next. 

“You know,” she begins, her voice as far away as her eyes, and it’s like she doesn’t even know she’s speaking. “Sometimes I wish he would.” 

What?

Eddie blinks, swallowing hard.

“Just for, just for a break. Just so he can rest. Let the rest take over for a while.” 

That… He doesn’t— What the hell does that even mean? 

“Like maybe then the world would… snap back.” She snaps her fingers, just once. This time it’s Eddie who flinches. “And everything bad would disappear. But it won’t. And he won’t.” She swallows. Then quietly, almost inaudible, “He won’t break.” 

And the way she says it… It was reassuring before. And now it feels like a burden. A curse. 

Who the fuck are you, Steve Harrington? And you, Robin Buckley. 

Eddie shudders, knowing he doesn’t want the answer to that anymore. He doesn’t want the questions either. So he buries his face in his hands, closes his eyes, and breathes. The adrenaline has worn off by now, the repeated panicking that added fuse to the fire has ceased now, leaving him worn out and strung out, tired and exhausted. He pulls up the hood, burrowing into the warmth. 

And then he stills. His usually twitching, fumbling, fiddling body falling entirely still beside Buckley. 

It’s like time stops for a while there, even though Eddie knows that it’s dragging ever on and on. He’s inclined to let it, though. He’s too tired, too exhausted to really care about what time may or may not be doing. 

“Why’d you call me?” 

It takes a while for Eddie to realise that Robin’s spoken again, asked him a question out loud, the cadence of it different to the endless circles of questions Eddie’s got stuck in his head since the early afternoon tinged in blue against crimson. 

He lifts his head, tucking his hands underneath his chin, and looks over at Buckley. Her hair is dishevelled now, her mascara smudged and crusty. Her lipstick is almost all gone, with the way he sees her biting and chewing on her lips. 

“I… It seemed like the right thing to do, y’know? He kept repeating your number. In the car, it was like… Sounds dramatic, but it was like his lifeline, almost. Repeated it so often it kinda got stuck.” He shrugs. “Seemed important, too.”

Robin frowns; a careful little thing. “How’d you know it was me?”

“Well, he just talked about you. Y’know. Tell me about your favourite person, I told him, because that’s the thing you gotta do to keep people, like, talking to you. Not shit about what day it is, or what. Just, y’know. Let them talk about things they like. Things they’ll wanna tell you about. ’N’ he talked about you.” 

She’s quiet for a while, letting his words sink in. And Eddie wonders if she knew. That she’s his favourite person. If he ever told her. If maybe he took that from him now. It’s a stupid thing to worry about, really; the boy was bloodied and bruised on his couch just an hour ago, there are worse things at hand for Eddie to worry about. But now he wonders if he just spilled some sort of secret. Some sort of love confession. 

“Did you, I mean… Are you guys, like, dating? Did I just steal his moment?” 

Robin huffs, but it’s more like a smile that needs a little more space in the room, a little more air to really bloom. It’s fond. She shakes her head, her eyes far away again, but closer somehow. 

“Nah,” she says, and the smile is in her voice, too. Eddie kind of likes her voice like that. “We’re platonic. Which is something I’d never thought I’d say. Not about Steve Harrington, y’know?” 

And the way she drags out his name… Eddie can relate. Like it means something, but like what it means is nowhere close to reality. Nowhere close to what it really means. Nowhere close to Blue. 

Robin sighs, the sound more gentle than it should be, and leans her head against the cabinet behind her. “We worked together over summer break. Scoops Ahoy.” Her voice does a funny thing, and her eyes glaze over as she pauses. Eddie waits, his lips tipped up into a little smile, too; to match hers. 

“What, the ice cream parlour?” 

Robin hums, her smile widening at what Eddie guesses must be memories of chaos and ridiculousness. “I wanted to hate him,” she continues. “But try as I might, he wouldn’t let me. Or, he did. He did let me. Just, it turns out, there’s no use hating Steve Harrington, not when he’s so… So endlessly genuine. There’s nothing to hate, y’know? And then he…” 

She stops, her mouth clicking shut as her eyes tear up a little. The Starcourt fire. Eddie remembers the news, remembers the self-satisfied smirk when he’d heard about it, remembers sticking it to the Man and to capitalism and to the idea of malls over supporting your friendly neighbourhood businesses. 

Guilt and shame overcome him as he realises that they must have been in there when it happened. 

“He saved your life?” 

Robin’s eyes snap toward him, wide and caught, and Eddie raises his hands in placation. 

“In the fire? Were you there?” 

“Y—yeah.” She swallows hard, avoiding his eyes. “The fire. He saved me. Yeah.” 

Eddie nods, deciding to drop that topic right there; to lay it on the ground as gently as he can and cover it with bright red colours so he never steps on it ever again. 

“He must be your favourite person, too, then, hm?” he steers the conversation back away into safer waters. 

“He is,” she says, sure and genuine and true. “It’s just. I don’t think I’ve ever been anyone’s favourite. He has a lot of people who care about him, you know? A lot of people he cares about. Even more numbers memorised in that stupidly smart head of his.” She huffs again, burrowing deeper into Eddie’s hoodie, pulling the sleeves over her hands some more. “It’s stupid, to be so hung up on this. Is it stupid?” 

“I don’t think it is,” Eddie says, scooting a little closer to Robin. “Like, I don’t even know that boy, right? But even I know that he’s got some ways to shift your focus or something. Give you a silver lining, or something to take the pain away even when he’s the one who… I don’t know, that’s probably stupid, too.” 

“Nah,” Robin says, scooting closer to him, too, until their sides are pressed together and she can lay her head on his shoulder. “It’s not stupid. You’re right; that’s Steve for you. ’S just who he is.” 

It is, isn’t it? 

You’re so blue, Stevie. 

She’ll say something corny when, when you ask her, jus’ to fuck with you. Sunset gold or rose, jus’ to mess with… But is blue.

Blue. ‘S nice. 

Yeah. Yeah, he is. 

Eddie lets his thoughts roam the endless possibilities and realities that is Steve Harrington, the depths he hides — or won’t hide, maybe, if you know how to ask. Where to look. 

Maybe he’ll find out, one of these days. Not about the terrible things that leave him scared of the hospital, not about the horrible things that have him speaking of death and dying like he’s accepted them as a possibility a long time ago. 

He swallows hard and shakes off these thoughts, because things like that just. They don’t happen. They don’t happen to blue-smiled boys who trust you to be kind even when they’re beaten straight to hell. And they sure as hell don’t happen when uncle Wayne’s around. 

Nothing bad has ever happened when uncle Wayne was around. 

And he wants to tell Robin, wants to make that promise. But part of him can’t bear the thought of being wrong. So he keeps his mouth shut and just sits with her, their heads as heavy as their hearts as they wait. 

The sun is long gone when the phone above him rings again, spooking and startling them out of their timeless existence. 

“Yeah?” he answers, his heart hammering in his chest. “Wayne?” 

“Hey, Ed,” Wayne’s voice comes through the phone like a melody. Calm and steady. Robin is scooting closer, and Eddie shifts the phone to accommodate her so they can both listen. Somehow, they ended up holding hands — and holding on hard. “We’re coming home now.” 

🤍🌷 tagging:

@theshippirate22 @mentallyundone @ledleaf @imfinereallyy @itsall-taken @simply-shin @romanticdestruction @temptingfatetakingnames @stevesbipanic @steddie-island @estrellami-1 @jackiemonroe5512 @emofratboy @writing-kiki @steviesummer @devondespresso @swimmingbirdrunningrock @dodger-chan @tellatoast @inkjette @weirdandabsurd42 @annabanannabeth @deany-baby @mc-i-r @mugloversonly @viridianphtalo @nightmareglitter @jamieweasley13 @copingmechanizm @marklee-blackmore @sirsnacksalot @justrandomfandomstm @hairdryerducks @silenzioperso @newtstabber @fantrash @zaddipax @cometsandstardust @rowanshadow26 @limpingpenguin @finntheehumaneater @extra-transitional (sorry if i missed anyone! lmk if you don't wanna be tagged for part 4 🫶)

[nataliesscatorccio]

Shauna and the baby were probably both going to die. depending on your interpretation of the dream realm, maybe for a time Shauna did die. something brought her back, or kept her from staying there. but it wasn't Mari's "wilderness, I hope Shauna doesn't die" or Travis' well intended but useless blood magic (recall Lottie "can't this just be enough? please?" it was never enough) or even the baby's death covering the symbol on the blanket in blood. those are futile hopes and bargains. the baby was already doomed. and the wilderness doesn't trade, we know this. it chooses. someone has to die. it took Crystal and spared Shauna. Shauna thinks she's been snubbed by the group and by extension the wilderness when it takes Javi and Nat is crowned, but what she fails to see is that she was chosen first. she keeps being chosen! not to die, to live. Coach Martinez dying to put her oxygen mask on. Jackie dying to later feed her. the wilderness taking Crystal (where is her body? it belongs to the wilderness now) to get Shauna through a dangerous labor. Nat dying in her place as the queen of hearts twenty-five years later. maybe it always did like Nat best, but it killed for Shauna first. and it kept killing for her. for girls like Shauna (and for girls like the Wilderness) isn't that just the shape love makes? a knife wound.

[givehimthemedicine]

[summoningspark]

so i may or may not have printed out the entirety of @anonymousalchemist's amazing fic like a bird, like a stone onto three Very Large pieces of paper.

you might be asking, why, fay? why did you print out an entire 53k fic for a video game you've never played? well you see, if you read it, you would understand.

[vroomvroomgang]

the chaotic energy of the free practice sessions alone has made the mexican gp an absolute standout

[fountainpenguin]

The fact that Chloe and Foop are both friends and pathological liars is still SO funny to me... Foop admits he's one (after apparently lying to claim he's not, so who knows) in "Two and a Half Babies," but what is UP with Chloe...

She straight-up lies to us and authority figures about things that are blatantly untrue, like biking to Fiji, claiming she's a vegetarian despite eating meat when her parents aren't around, or completing a course of study that she acknowledges takes years in 2 seconds while on a diving board. We were literally there. Why did she even say that.

She also just ?? commits crimes?? Fraud, implied insider trading, multiple B&E cases, whatever you call sneaking into Fairy Con without a ticket, theft, property damage, whatever nailing Crocker's bed to the ceiling counts as... on top of blatantly sabotaging people and pushing Timmy to disobey Cosmo and Wanda.

Her canon fate if she didn't get assigned godparents is joining a gang and becoming a supervillain. Fascinating...

Literally Chloe after wishing to be an adult: I'm a parent, and I get to do what I want!! /slams the gas pedal and plows into 2 separate fences and a bunch of garbage cans with 3 kids in her back seat

She also just ?? went into a dark and creepy alley with three children she was responsible for? And drove directly into the wall of her own house and happily stepped out of her car? Why is she like that.

[noperopesaredope]

I've Finally Figured Out Why Curly's Skin-Thing Frustrates Me

I was talking to someone earlier about how people sometimes refer to Curly as "corpse-like" and why that might be offensive to burn victims, and I was trying to explain why some people might think that way. I think after that conversation, I was finally able to articulate what frustrated me about Curly's burn situation. He doesn't look like he actually has burn scars.

Here are some real life 3rd degree burn scars (sorry if some of them have a before and after photo, they were the best I could get):

Here's also a diagram of burn severity just as extra stuff:

They appear very different from Curly's scars. They are more...wrinkly doesn't seem like the right word? They do not seem to have straight lines that flow in a specific pattern, and are more vein-like than anything. A lot of them also have a more regular skin tone. Whether pink or not, they are not the shade of deep crimson red that Curly's are. They overall look completely different in many ways. One might argue that different types of burns and different degrees cause different scarring, and I agree with that. In fact, having looked into burn scarring a bit more, I believe that Curly's scars may be 4th degree or higher, as it went past the skin.

Let's look at a few:

I have found an example of a real world burn survivor with some similarities to Curly:

(Honestly really liked this video, especially since it taught me a bit more about burn survivors when I first watched it a few years ago)

He, like Curly, had a disfigured mouth and eyes and whatnot. It shows that some of Curly's injuries are realistic, such as his mouth and probably his eyelid. However, his burns still look very different. All of them look much more similar to each other than they do to Curly.

In general, I have not yet found an example of burn scarring that looks similar to IRL scarring. I believe that's one aspect of this, but there is a second, bigger part. The big issue here isn't just that Curly doesn't look like he has burn scars, but that he does look similar to one of those medical textbook muscle diagrams.

His burns are a lot more fleshy and have a certain pattern to them that regular burns (even the most severe ones) don't. They follow lines across the body and take on a certain shape, whereas usually burn scars aren't quite like that. In face, the look a lot like the actual muscle structure:

(The bandages looking a bit like bones certainly doesn't help with that)

On top of it all (and this has always drove me insane), he is specifically described as having no skin. Even the most severe burn survivors have something. They have skin, or at least some sort of layer between the muscles and the outside.

According to all my research (and trust me, I tried), it is physically impossible to live without skin. You will die.

To me, Curly doesn't appear to have actual burn scars or even look like he was burned. Hell, before I knew anything about the game, I never would have guessed he had been burned. Instead, he looks more like his skin was peeled off, not burnt off.

A metaphor I used while talking to the other person is that Curly is like seeing a character who supposedly broke their spine, but then you learn that their entire spine actually disintegrated into nothing and they have literally no spinal cord. And you're like "wtf how is this bitch still alive" because you can live with a damaged spine but you cannot live with zero spine at all.

People don't think of him as a burn victim because there are no burn scars. In fact, I often forget he's a burn victim because he doesn't appear to have any actual burn wounds. Like, all his wounds don't look like burns of any kind. They look more like those medical textbooks. Thus, people see him as "corpse-like" because no living person with burn scars looks like him (at least, not that I can find). Because he literally looks more like a diagram of muscle structure than he does a burn victim. His design is unrealistic in a way that make people horrified.

He literally, in every possible way has no skin.

And that is why so many people are freaked out by him.

[arttsuka]

Some thoughts about the mouthwashing fandom and some character analysis(?) under the cut.

While the game is clearly meant for older audiences (14+ at least, from my understanding, although I couldn't find an official age rating), the fandom is flooded by kids and teens too young to even play the game or understand the characters and actions they take.

The game deals with some very upsetting themes. From murder and suicide to self harm and sexual assault (some more prominent than others). While it's totally fine if someone feels uncomfortable with any of these themes, that doesn't erase them from the game and shouldn't discourage people from showing them in the fandom. If it's truly that upsetting to someone I would recommend they go into some other fandom (at least where the source material is not as triggering to them). We are here to have a good time, not a stressful one.

The fandom is this twisted 'happy/nothing bad happens' and everyone is turning a blind eye to how disturbing and disgusting the game was.

Don't get me started on the treatment Jimmy goes through. Yes, he is a terrible person for what he does in game but 1: he was clearly mentally unwell* (I'll add to that later), especially after a point and 2: 'fandom Jimmy' literally did nothing wrong (unlike cannon Jimmy), his depictions in the fandom is him being brutally murdered or just existing.

*It's not only implied in game that he's mentally unwell, we literally see him descent into madness by the end. From the beginning (him refusing to cooperate for the phyc evaluations), to the breakdown he was having after he navigated the ship to crash into a meteorite, to him having hallucinations (the graveyard, the cake scene with everyone gathered etc).

Also Curly, damn. I get it that he enabled Jimmy's actions to a degree but are we forgetting Swansea also stood there and did nothing? He said Anya was telling him 'all sorts of things' (implying the SA from Jimmy) yet he still did literally nothing, not even attempt to talk to him. Curlys worst sin was him being a realistic and complex character. Having a personal crisis about his own future and fulfilment in life, trying to navigate the whole 'pony express is closing' with an unhappy crew, having to help Anya who was having basically a breakdown and was on a high risk of hurting herself with the gun, having to confront Jimmy about the whole affair (it was implied that he didn't know from the beginning that the pregnancy was not only unwanted but also forced), trying to help an old friend. It all piles up. He could have handled things better, sure, but to pretend he is equally as bad as Jimmy is just wrong and shows the lack of judgment, understanding and overall empathy of realistic characters and situations.

Neither Curly nor Swansea did anything drastic because there was nothing they could do. Curly was trying to help everyone in his way, too blinded by their friendship to acknowledge or predict what Jimmy was capable of before it was too late.

Personally I think mouthwashing is an excellent game, definitely one of the best I've ever played. The story, the way the events take place, the characters, the imagery, the music. The way it successfully builds up the uneasy atmosphere without any jumpscares, embracing the 'psychological horror' element to it's fullest. Truly a great game, I just wish the fandom was a little more 'mature' (mentally wise).

[quibbs126]

I’m thinking about it, and I think Optimus banishing Megatron from Iacon with the High Guard was probably one of the worst decisions he could have made to deal with this situation

Because Optimus pretty much left him alone, outside of his home and I’m fairly certain the only remaining city on Cybertron, so to live out in the wilds of the surface, with a bunch of complete strangers whom they literally call nut-jobs and have a strong belief of “strength of one bot over another”, and are also much older and more experienced than him

And in leaving him with the High Guard, he’s likely isolated Megatron even more than if he was banished alone. Because while Optimus and the others have friends they can be vulnerable with and be comfortable talk about their feelings, Megatron does not know these people, and they don’t know him. But he’s now their leader in a group that values strength above all else, and emotions are usually considered a weakness in these sorts of settings. So not only does he have no one to talk to, he has to bottle up his very strong and raw emotions to appear stronger and worthy of his position, thus making them far worse and probably leading to unhealthy coping mechanisms

This could end up not being the case, and the High Guard are very considerate of his emotions. But it’s also very possible the case that they aren’t, or Megatron believes he can’t be vulnerable around them. They (the quartet I mean) don’t know these people, and they’ve really only seen them be violent and aggressive, and Megatron knows he’s an outsider to them. It’s a more likely scenario that they’ll be harmful to Megatron’s mental state rather than helpful

And again, they’re a lot older than him too, and they probably all know this, at least on some level. And thus, he’s far more likely to be influenced by the High Guard’s mentality and beliefs, which we already know aren’t great (even if it’s somewhat justified why they’re the way they are by this point). And assuming they’re pissed at Optimus as well, they could very well try to have Megatron distance himself from his old friends, and it be more successful than if he was alone

But moving away from the High Guard, there’s the fact that Optimus banished him from his home and left him to fend for himself, which Megatron would absolutely take personally just on its own. He was clearly not in a mentally stable place at that point and I think he thinks what he’s doing is right, he’s the one not being like Sentinel while Optimus is. It definitely isn’t right, but he thinks he is. And the banishment to him could not only be Optimus/Orion standing against him, but essentially him saying he’s given up on Megatron, making him leave his home. And I mean, Sentinel did kind of do this to the High Guard 50 cycles ago, so yet another parallel to be made between Optimus and Sentinel

But note that when I say all this, I don’t mean it as a criticism of the movie, that this is a flaw of the plot. I’m fairly certain this was 100% intentional by the writers. It wasn’t just Megatron that created Megatron and led to the war, it was Optimus too, even if he didn’t intend to

Optimus probably thought at the time that this was the best solution in dealing with him. He doesn’t agree with Megatron’s actions but he understands where it all comes from, and he was someone very important to him. So he probably doesn’t want to arrest him, punishing him for what he thought was right and making himself more like Sentinel, oppressing those who were supposed to be on his side. But he still has to be punished for his actions. So by banishment, he is punished while still being allowed to essentially be free, just not in Iacon, and maybe in turn he’ll see his wrongdoings and come back better. And even if the High Guard aren’t ideal, they did help Optimus and Elita rescue their friends, and maybe he thought at least with them he wouldn’t be alone in his thoughts. Also they agreed with Megatron’s ideals and probably shouldn’t be allowed to just roam free in Iacon, especially in this politically fragile state it is right now

But in doing so, Optimus essentially threw Megatron to the wolves and created the perfect environment for his anger and pain to fester and cause him to become more like the Megatron we know in the future

I’m not sure what the actual best solution would have been to this issue though. Maybe it would have been just jailing Megatron? Granted in the short term, it’d probably sting even worse for Megatron, that his own friend would lock him up, and it’d probably make him even more resentful. But at least there, he’d still be in Iacon, with his friends and people who want to help him, and with Optimus and Elita at the helm, they can probably see that he gets treated well and has access to people that can really help him work through it all and see what he did was wrong

But that’s not what happened

[evilsciencebox]

i kinda feel like crash may not have known he had a sister until just before the 2nd game when coco escapes. like, i don't think he's the kinda guy who would've just left her there had he known. he went back for tawna after all.

i feel like thats what the flashback tapes may have been implying, i can't be completely sure on that of course but that's what it feels like to me. coco knew about crash but he didn't know about her.

[plushiefucker]

thinking about daisuke and art and. working with your hands. starving artist. gendered labour. lower class. high expectations. never understood. "Not real art" expensive gallery art. young eyes. different standards. "not serious enough". you'll never be as good as the people before you. suffering as an artform. saturn devouring his son. paintbrushes made from horse hair. fashion as a form of art. art as a form of expression. the beauty in pain. only valued after you're dead. self portrait. face paint. performance art. catering to your audience. hobbies vs a career. finger painting. ai art. replaceable. "you had so much passion as a kid. where did it go ?". family legacy. weaponising your trauma for your craft. immigrant parents. no mistakes, only happy accidents. always needed but never valued. art museums. never good enough. idk. idk...

[erikiara80]

I talked about how September 8 could be a Fringe Easter Egg

September is the Observer from the future who saves Walter and Peter from a frozen lake, where Walter opened the portal to the parallel universe. When he tells Walter that "The boy is important, he must live," Walter thinks he's talking about Peter, but September is actually talking about his own son, Michael. Saving Walter and Peter makes him remember that he loves his son. The love for Michael is the key...

I'm sure there's a parallel here, one of the reasons the name Mike is so often mentioned in ST. Because he's involved in whatever happened in 1976. Maybe he's the one who saw what happened to Will. Wrong place, wrong time, like Hopper says in 1x03 (Interestingly, the memory of the day they met includes a playground. We see Sarah and Alice in a playgroung, and they both look terrified. And in S2, when Jon and Nancy are waiting for Barb's mother in a playground, to talk about Barb's death, they realize it's all staged and they're taken to the lab. Basically, playgrounds are associated with dead animals (people?), scared kids and abduction, so, I think something bad also happened in 1976)

I noticed that the few bald people we see in ST are always in scenes connected to Hopper, Will, Eleven, and Mike.

It starts with Sarah, of course.

In 2x07, a bald man tells El that she's dead, they're all dead. This, after she sees a cop and we hear these lyrics of Runaway

Hopper was in a graveyard... And Mike also needs to get (a message) through. That's it's a trap (staged)

Code name for Joyce, Hop and Murray in S3, Bald Eagle, and one of the soldiers asks Joyce and Hopper if Mikhail sent for them

This parallel. The bald russian puts out his cigarette and then he looks at the gate

And Sarah's photo is in the shot when the Mind Flayer (William) puts out his cigarette

Also, after the scene of the gate in Russia, we see Mike, El and Hopper, and locks, time and closing doors are mentioned

In S4, Dimitri says that his son Mikhail would call Hopper the bald American. And in another scene, Hopper says this about Mikhail and his papa: "Your son is not your son. And your wife..."

At end of the season, Hopper says that he stole El's haircut, so she's "bald" too

And I think we can also count Mr Baldo, the clown. We know Will was afraid of clowns when he was five, and clowns seem connected to (Lonnie) something bad that happened on a frozen lake (Argyle says that it could've been an ice skate, and then "bliping" the circus music) We also see clowns in Jane's room and on Sarah's pajamas and when Alexei is killed. Imo, all hints at the tragic event in 1976 that involves the kids, guns, and a frozen lake

[lookoverthecliff]

twp takes place in 2015 so it’ll feature peak tumblr culture and big 1989 vibes

so this means style will be kitty anthem 🤓✍🏻

[stari-hun]

Still thinking about the opening crash scene in Mouthwashing and how Anya’s ID card is there so she’s the first character you’re introduced to before you realize the POVs are only with Jimmy or Curly. The only identifier of anyone during that opening sequence is Anya which makes many players think she’s the one who crashed the ship since you don’t have any other options yet. There’s so many points in the game where Jimmy and even Curly can’t see things or see new things in the game that others don’t because they’re unreliable characters.

In the opening scene of Mouthwashing even the setting itself blames Anya for the crash because it’s Jimmy’s POV. And Jimmy blames Anya for everything that’s happened