#i will right these wrongs done unto me

[gonky-kong]

Tech would have been right here staring up at that Zilly.

'Facinating'

[volivolition]

guy who's unaware he's gonna spend the next 3-5 hours reworking the lyrics of dream sweet in sea major: haha maybe i'll write a silly little narrative for my hmself, wouldn't that be fun? :)

[skullchicken]

Things I wish I had read in "beginner" sewing tutorials/people had told me before I started getting into sewing

You have to hem *everything* eventually. Hemming isn't optional. (If you don't hem your cloth, it will start to fray. There are exceptions to this, like felt, but most cloth will.)

The type of cloth you choose for your project matters very much. Your clothing won't "fall right" if it's not the kind of stretchy/heavy/stiff as the one the tutorial assumes you will use.

Some types of cloth are very chill about fraying, some are very much not. Linen doesn't really give a fuck as long as you don't, like, throw it into the washing machine unhemmed (see below), whereas brocade yearns for entropy so, so much.

On that note: if you get new cloth: 1. hem its borders (or use a ripple stitch) 2. throw it in the washing machine on the setting that you plan to wash it going forward 3. iron it. You'll regret it, if you don't do it. If you don't hem, it'll thread. If you don't wash beforehand, the finished piece might warp in the first wash. If you don't iron it, it won't be nice and flat and all of your measuring and sewing will be off.

Sewing's first virtue is diligence, followed closely by patience. Measure three times before cutting. Check the symmetry every once in a while. If you can't concentrate anymore, stop. Yes, even if you're almost done.

The order in which you sew your garment's parts matters very much. Stick to the plan, but think ahead.

You'll probably be fine if you sew something on wrong - you can undo it with a seam ripper (get a seam ripper, they're cheap!)

You can use chalk to draw and write on the cloth.

Pick something made out of rectangles for your first project.

I recommend making something out of linen as a beginner project. It's nearly indestructible, barely threads and folds very neatly.

Collars are going to suck.

The sewing machine can't hurt you (probably). There is a guard for a reason and while the needle is very scary at first, if you do it right, your hands will be away from it at least 5 cm at any given time. Also the spoils of learning machine sewing are not to be underestimated. You will be SO fast.

I believe that's all - feel free to add unto it.

[strawbebyjam]

back 2 missing it 👍🏼

[nerdygaymormon]

So I went to my Bishop with my concerns about the new policies (figuring, hey, if I lose Bishop roullette and get my temple recommend taken away for criticizing the Church, it might as well be worth it), and he showed me a really interesting verse. In D&C 74, it's talking about the early Church being conflicted about children of mixed member/non-member (aka Christian and Jewish, basically) marriages, and how they were considered unclean by the Jews since they were no longer circumcised. Anyway, long story short, the Lord reveals the following:

"Wherefore, for this cause the apostle wrote unto the church, giving unto them a commandment, not of the Lord, but of himself, that a believer should not be united to an unbeliever; except the law of Moses should be done away among them"

The key to this verse is that Peter gave a commandment that was not of the Lord. We tend to attribute a lot of infallibility to our leaders in the Church, but this verse plainly says that here was the head of the Church, a prophet of God, giving a commandment of himself in order to solve what he saw as a problem for the Church.

I see this as a direct rebuke of the doctrine of prophetic infallibility, and a reassurance that the Lord lets his prophets have agency, for better or for worse. As my Bishop said, "The Lord allows agency at all levels of the Church." We also chatted about the Plan of Salvation, and how there's a plan for everyone, even if the Church doesn't acknowledge one currently. It was an incredible talk with an ecclesiastical leader, and it showed me that there is hope that the Church can and will change over time, especially as we strive to live the Two Great Commandments of God.

You've been a huge help to my testimony when it's been weak, and I hope this helps you as much as it helped me. Much love from Colorado!

Thank you for that kind note. Also, I recognize the courage it took for you to speak with your bishop.

Your bishop gave great insight, that here we have being taught in our scriptures that sometimes apostles teach their own opinions as commandments when they are actually in opposition to the Lord.

I think it's insightful to see that the Lord's way was more liberal and inclusive than the apostle thought, which reminds me of Joseph Smith's teaching that "Our Heavenly Father is more liberal in his views, and boundless in his mercies and blessings, than we are ready to believe or receive."

The LDS Church teaches that prophets and apostles are capable of error, despite being called of God and receiving revelation, which makes sense because these are imperfect men so it seems obvious they may make mistakes. If it weren't this way it would be unique in the history of the world.

However, in practice Latter-day Saints often teach that the prophet of the church literally cannot lead church members astray or teach false doctrine, as a way of emphasizing the importance of following the prophet.

I think holding up our apostles and prophets as infallible is unfair to them as it puts them in an impossible situation, it doesn't allow them to grow, it makes them less likely to correct previous errors and therefore prolongs the time we live under the incorrect teachings & policies, and it may make them cautious to act.

I agree with your bishop that there's a plan for everyone, even if the Church doesn't acknowledge this. I have said something similar, that I believe I'm included in God's plan even if I'm not in the church's version of that plan.

I think your bishop gave some wise insight and underlines my belief that the things which are right about the church can fix the things which are wrong.

Also, I think it's useful to think of the two great commandments and use that as a filter to determine if these teachings from our leaders are more or less likely to be the Lord's will .

Thanks so much for sharing!💖

[famwhy]

Right Way Up (04)

Stranger Things

Yandere! Steve Harrington X F!Reader, Yandere! Eddie Munson X F!Reader, Yandere! Billy Hargrove X F!Reader

Synopsis: You always hated when your favourite characters died in shows or movies; always longed to have the opportunity to save them. So when you're transported into one of your favourite shows of all time, what else are you supposed to do besides save your beloved characters?

Warnings: Threat/violence, Gore, Mentions of sexual content (implicit), Death, Manipulation, Depictions of toxic relationships, Drugs and alcohol abuse

Note: omg guys, I came across an account that said their current favourite fic was this one in their bio. I'm acc so happy, tysm

prev part. masterlist.

04. bring unto me peculiarity

trait: e.m.

YOU blinked, jaw hung open and muscles tense as her grip around you tightened—constricting your movements and clogging your airways. Though, breathing was the least of your concerns when it came to tight hugs at the moment, not when you had your dumb arm to worry about.

As if on cue, a sharp rupture of pain spiked your side, and you winced, grunting a little before sucking a breath in through your teeth and asking—albeit with scrunched up features—"...sorry, do I know you?"

"Wha—?" She pulled away at that, and the look she gave you—oh, the look she gave you—it was full of heartbreak, emotional turmoil spanning as far as the eye could see. "It's me, baby, it's mommy."

"Mom?"

You thought you didn't have a mother. 

"Yes, baby, it's me. It's mom." She smiled, pupils shaking in—and you could be wrong about this, but—what seemed like... desperation?

What's up with that?

And, if this lady really was your mother, where the hell had she been all these days?

"Y/N? The hell is taking so—?"

A strange sense of déjà vu drenched your form as your eyes followed the new voice, landing on the slightly-parted lips and wide, almost-disbelieving eyes of your second oldest brother—hands still covered by the huge, red gloves he often adorned.

Then, his features scrunched up—though, it wasn't like yours had just done—no—his were harder, more purposeful; his were clouded in a storm consisting purely of loathing so unadulterated, you had half a mind to think he was staring—no, glaring—into the form of his worst enemy.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" And as he spoke, venom spat out of his mouth, launching itself straight onto the woman still loosely holding you and causing her face to scrunch up in a pained wince. "Shouldn't you be on one of your fucking five-year-long business trips?"

"Oh honey—"

His glare grew sharper. "Don't call me that."

"I..." she trailed off and you blinked, helpless to the scene that was playing out right before your very eyes.

"I don't know what the fuck got into you but you can't just waltz in here like..." his face scrunched up, brows furrowing as he paused the sentence for one... two... three seconds before continuing, spite still as prevalent as ever, "like you belong!"

You watched as her face dropped even further at that—the barely visible bags under her eyes looking about ten times worse than they did before.

Now, you had no idea what type of past you were meant to have shared with this woman—how horrible it truly was—but surely someone who greeted you so warmly at the door couldn't be too bad?

So with that thought in mind, you narrowed your eyes by the slightest amount—a little... hesitantly—before lightly scolding, "Hey. Curt, maybe tone it down a little?"

His attention averted from the woman—hateful, dark eyes that were once throwing daggers her way, now unapologetically directed towards you. "'Tone it down a little'? Do you hear yourself, Y/N? That woman missed almost every single birthday of yours! Every. Single. One!"

Alright, so, you didn't usually consider yourself to be much of a coward, but being the recipient of that deadly gaze was enough to make you yield just this once—both of your hands flying up to rest in the air beside your head. Hey, you tried, he just didn't listen.

Besides, you were only a mere bystander in this squabble anyway. Sure, you felt bad for the woman, but not bad enough to get socked in the face by a boxer for her.

...okay, now you just sounded like a jerk. 

Feeling your heart tighten slightly, you shook your head to rid yourself of those awful, intrusive thoughts and parted your lips in an attempt to redeem yourself.

Keyword: attempt.

Before even a word could breeze past your tongue, another voice entered the fray—one a lot more grounded than any other you'd heard since you opened the door—"What the hell is with all this—? Mom?"

You tilted your head just enough to catch the approaching form of your oldest brother—his figure growing with each step he took—and the closer he grew, the clearer his facial expression became.

His brows were furrowed, but instead of the hostile way that Curt's were, his were more... well, confused?—shocked, perhaps?—or maybe a better word for it would be baffled? Either/or, he didn't look like he was terribly upset with her appearance, further grinding your theory of her not being that bad into reality.

"What are you doing here?"

"I just thought that—" the sudden lack of warmth around your arms had your head whipping back, eyes watching as the same fingers that were once wrapped around you, now awkwardly rubbed the woman's other limb, "—maybe it was about time I spent some quality time with you all?"

Before you could even register what she had said—Curt's voice hastily cut through the air; a tone of finality you hadn't heard him use before laced so deeply within it, "Too little too late."

Though—if you were being entirely honest—you were starting to tune it out—all of it: the apologies, the confusion, the arguing; all of it. A familiar sense of surrealism washed over you as you witnessed the events unfold; as you watched their mouths move soundlessly—your new brothers seemingly arguing with a woman who held the looks of your mother but seemed to act nothing like her.

It was weird, strange. You weren't even sure how to feel. From the looks of things, this... mother of yours seemed to not be around much—and one of your brothers hated her for it, while the other merely seemed to... well, you weren't entirely sure what he felt yet. Hell, you didn't even know what you were supposed to feel.

Should you be sad? Mad? Indifferent?—'cause that's what you felt right now. This world wasn't even meant to have you in it at all. There was no character named Y/N who looked exactly like you and had two older brothers with a seemingly neglectful mother and who-knows-what-happened-to-him father.

Even if you wanted to copy the mannerisms of the Y/N belonging to this world, you couldn't because there wasn't one. She didn't exist.

How the hell were you supposed to react?

You could've asked yourself that question a billion more times, but the sudden rush of air that hit your face crashed you straight back to reality—just in time too, for not even moments later, an abrupt 'slam!' echoed from behind.

Confused, your gaze found Cain's.

"Give him some time. He's probably off to go fuck some chick and get his mind off this."

Slowly, you nodded.

Then, you heard it; the sound of her voice continuing to speak behind you with that broken lilt—the one she just couldn't seem to drop—laced so deeply in her tone.

"I'm so sorry, babies." The woman—your mother—reached out, and you felt her fingers graze you again, "I'm so so sorry."

"It's... alright, mom," Cain responded before you could—voice seeming almost... hesitant, "It's all good."

There was no chatter after that—not a single sound escaped their lips. That was your cue; your cue to either condemn her down to hell or forgive her for this supposed neglect you weren't even around to experience.

"Sweetie..." her voice was shaky—desperate, no doubt, and seeking the forgiveness of a daughter that didn't even belong to her, "please..."

"Uh..." you weren't sure what it was, but something was holding you back from saying anything; from doing something—

—and it looked like she noticed that too. 

"It's okay, I understand..." 

She seems a bit... what's the word?

With hands that were once hopefully clasped around one another, now pitifully falling by her sides, and eyes that seemed to droop just a tad bit more despite the small, ingenuine quirk of her lips upwards; her whole demeanour almost screamed...

Ah. Forlorn. 

Your chest felt heavy at the sight—tight and weighed down. Some type of... guilt was it? ebbed away at you. Though you didn't know why—it wasn't like she was your real mother, after all. In fact, she was a complete stranger to you; someone who you wouldn't even bother sondering over if you passed her by on the street.

How strange.

"Y/N," the soft call of your name caused your ears to perk up, and you turned to your remaining brother, "C'mon, you're due for a change."

"A change?" You tilted your head, eyes still not all there—at least, not until—

"Your bandages."

"Ohhh." 

To be honest, you completely forgot about that.

"Bandages?" From the looks of things, though, your mother couldn't pass it off as easily as you. "For what?" 

Immediately, Cain's eyes locked with yours—his hues swirling with a query you were able to decipher pretty easily: 'Should we tell her?'

Should you? Well, the fact that he had to ask that question in the first place was concerning, to say the least. Maybe you'd hold off on telling her for now. Just for now. Nothing permanent.

Mind made up and eyes stopping at nothing to avoid her own, you told your mother, "Don't worry about it, it's all good."

Her lips turned down, shoulders sagging and gaze falling to the floor like a glossy river over the edge of a cliff; swift and hopeless to anything wishing to stop it.

She looked so... so...

Defeated.

"Ah, okay."

You wished you could say you forgave her—you desperately prayed to—but how could you when the words refused to come out of your throat?—when they relentlessly fought with your tongue to the point they immobilised it and unfairly rendered you incapable of speech?

You could have stood there hopelessly staring at her for hours if you so wished, but the small tug on your wrist averted your gaze, and you found yourself staring at the loosened expression of your other kin.

"Let's get you wrapped up, Y/N."

You nodded.

He then took to guiding you towards the kitchen, and the whole way there, your gaze didn't leave your mother's form—watching as her figure grew smaller with each step—shorter with each breath—before completely disappearing around the corner.

"Don't feel bad."

Your ears perked up—head turning to face your older brother. 

"'Bout mom," he continued, not particularly looking your way, "She hasn't been around for most of our lives, you're allowed to not forgive her."

"What about you?" You asked, "You didn't sound too sure of forgiving her yourself."

He paused. 

"I..."—a rough 'ahem'—"I'm trying to."

You tilted your head. "Trying to?"

"It's..." He trailed off and furrowed his brows, as if searching for something in his mind, before continuing, "hard. Really hard. To look after people—I mean. Especially on your own."

It was your turn to furrow your brows, lips tugging down as you took in his words and really—well—thought for a good second.

It was clear that he was trying his best to be empathetic; to sympathise with her situation. And who better than him? You didn't have to be a genius to decipher the fact that he had been the one to take care of both you and Curt for pretty much the majority of your—supposed—'life'. He probably had to grow up a lot faster than 'you' would've. In that case, he could relate to her.

But, on the other hand...

"It's not fair."

"Huh?" He turned your way, blinking twice.

"To compare yourself to her," you continued, lips still curved down, "You're completely different. While she never bothered to be around, you did. You learned how to cook, clean—hell, maybe even change diapers—"

"Maybe even? You were a little shit and you know it—"

Shit, he changed your diapers too? You were just trying to be dramatic but damn.

"Okay—" that came off a little more exasperated than you wanted and clearly he could sense it too, judging by the way he snickered right after, little shit, "—my point is, you were there and she wasn't. And it's not even your responsibility to take care of us. I get that she has her supposed 'five-year-long' business trips, but she could've made time for us. You're her son too, you're allowed to be mad that she wasn't there."

He stayed silent for a few moments, and you found your hands naturally drifting down—fingers digging into your skirt harshly; anxiously. Sweat gathered on your brow and anticipation ate at your insides, chipping away at your organs and clogging your brain with worry; worry for the elongated silence that greeted your words.

Had you said something wrong? Was he going to snap at you?

Goodbye, cruel world, remember—

A chuckle.

Your ears perked up and your eyes widened in disbelief.

"And here I thought I was the one meant to be cheering you up." His shoulders bounced in a pattern you could only describe as uneven, one hand rising up to swipe at his eye.

The sight caused your muscles to loosen up, fingers losing their grip on your skirt and eyes crinkling fondly as you watched him reach up into an open cupboard—arm disappearing within the confines before reappearing not long after with a red, rectangular bag.

The sound of a zip was the next thing you heard—accompanied by his voice as he said, "Alright, let's get you all patched up, worm."

You scrunched up your nose. "Worm?" 

"Yeah, annoying little things, aren't they?"

"Rude."

Another snicker had your lips quirking up again, a swirl of warmth gathering in your chest; a hint of fondness and pride. Was this how sibling banter felt?

It's... nice.

Before you could enjoy the moment any longer though, your brain just had to ruin it, giving you a thought that had your ears falling again—stomach dropping into a bottomless pit within the confines of your body.

"Is..." you started, and his ears perked up from behind the arm that slowly tugged at the grey gauze, "Is Curt gonna be okay?"

A scoff. "Yeah. You know him, he'll be super bitchy about it but he'll come running back tomorrow morning so don't worry."

You smiled. "So long as he's—ow! Watch it!"

"My bad."

"You did that on purpose."

"I did that on purpose."

"Asshole."

"D'aww, is wittle sissy's feewings hurt?"

"Shut up, you dick!"

You took it back, sibling banter was so not nice.

But, at least it was somewhat fun—unlike what happened next.

"Sweeties?" You tensed, head turning as Cain backed away—the warmth of his hand leaving you with new, pure white gauze around your arm—and turned with you. "I'm gonna head out for the night and go meet up with some old friends. Are you two going to be okay?"

Maybe if you were actually part of this world, you would've said something petty like 'nothing new there' or 'you've already not been around for most of my life, what's one more night?'—but, you weren't, and so settled with a good old fashioned—"We'll be fine,"—instead.

She was out the door in no less than two seconds.

It quickly grew dark following that—night approaching faster than you could register—and there had yet to be any sign of Curt. Guess Cain was right when he said the younger of the two would be back in the morning.

Speaking of Cain, he had some last minute call from a client regarding car troubles. Apparently, they were stranded and in dire need of assistance, so Cain was required to go to them in order to help—though, he was quite reluctant as he, no doubt, voiced to you.

"Oh my god, Cain, I'll be fine." You rolled your eyes.

"Are you sure? This street isn't exactly known for safety," he responded, expression scrunched up with what you recognised as pure worry.

"God, you're just like Steve. Nothing will happen, don't worry."

When the corner of his lips quirked up in response to your words, you felt something akin to dread claw at your innards. "Oh, I'm just like Steve, am I?"

"Shut up, he has a girlfriend," you were saying that more to yourself than him, to be honest.

"Yeah, that he drops anytime you're within two feet of him."

"I swear to god, Cain."

He snickered.

"Just go! I know you're doing this just to stall, go find that poor person stranded by the phone booth!"

"Okay, okay, I'm going."

And as his shoulders kept jerking up and down, your hand found purchase against the bumpy texture of your wooden door before pushing at full force; a 'slam!' echoing not long after.

"Stupid piece of shit," you grumbled, though, not genuinely.

...okay, maybe just a little genuinely actually, 'cause now he put the stupid thought in your head; the stupid thought of Steve Harrington actually liking you.

Preposterous.

He probably just thought of you as a really close friend—he supposedly knew you since childhood, after all, of course he would value you over Nancy sometimes.

But... theoretically, say he felt more, what would it be like?

Would he hold your hand and pull you in close? Whisper sweet nothings into your ear as you lay against him in the dead of night?—sinking into his warmth and stuffing your face in his sturdy chest. Would his lips feel soft against the bare skin of your neck?—passionate and sublime as he marked you up as his own, going lower and lower and—

Three knocks against your door.

Ugh.

"Oh my god, Cain, how many times—? Nancy?"

Lo and behold, there stood the very girlfriend of the guy you were just fantasising about.

Honestly, you would've thought it awkward had you not caught a glimpse of her expression; just a glance long enough to bleed you dry of all your previous thoughts and scrunch your face up as a whole new set rushed in—worrisome ones.

Her eyes were bloodshot, red veins visible and bringing out the puffiness to a degree that had your heart clenching and your lips subconsciously parting open to ask, "Are you alright?"

She gulped, voice shaky as she responded with, "Can I come in?" 

Slowly, you nodded—palm pushing against the door just enough to allow it to fall slightly more ajar.

"Here, come sit." You gestured to the couch, hands hesitantly ghosting over her shoulders as you guided her there—watching as she gently sat down, the cotton shifting under her weight. "Can I get you anything?"

She didn't respond: head tilted down, shoulders drooped, and overall demeanour looking to be completely put-off. The poor thing.

You figured a cup of water would be fine, she looked like she needed it.

What was she doing here, anyway? From what you gathered based on the very few interactions you'd had with her, the two of you weren't very close. Why, then, would she suddenly show up at your door so late at night?

Those thoughts plagued your mind as you made your way over to the kitchen—bare feet numb to the cool of the floor. They haunted you as you reached for a cup with one hand and twisted the tap with the other—fingers unfeeling of the pressure that rained upon them. They consumed your entire being until you were left with nothing but the husk of a person on autopilot—quietly making your way back to the living room.

It was only when your eyes landed on her form again, that you snapped out of it in a small burst of surprise.

Gone was the once sat-down figure with an air of dismay clouding her form—replaced, instead, by one that stood up straight, brows furrowed and shoulders tensed as she paced back and forth vigorously. Keyword: paced—she stopped as soon as you arrived, much to your own confusion.

"Nancy, what are you—?" 

"You're thinking about Barb too, right?"

She looked you dead in the eyes, and you almost found yourself growing fidgety under her intense gaze.

"What?"

"It's just that..." she trailed off, faltering for a moment, "well, Steve mentioned you've been acting off lately—"

Shit. Steve was catching on.

"—and I was wondering if... it was bothering you too." 

You blinked, parting your lips to ask for a little more—for some sort of elaboration—but her voice continued before you even had a chance.

"I mean, it's dumb that we have to keep this whole thing a secret!" She exclaimed, hands making wild gestures now. "Her family deserves to know." 

You stood there, blinking in a daze that hadn't quite passed since the moment she arrived. It felt like you had just wandered into a confusing maze, with twists and turns spanning as far as the eye could see; each one riddled with its own set of confusing obstacles you couldn't quite wrap your head around.

On one hand, Nancy's words made sense, you saw why she felt that way—you heard her—and it was so much more prominent in person than over a screen.

On the other hand, as a viewer of the show and a victim of unfortunate circumstance, you hadn't a clue where she was going with this. You knew why she was telling you all of this (you were acting strange and she was feeling off so duh she would try and see if you related) but, where was she going with it? What did she want with you? Surely it wasn't just comfort.

"Do you... want to come with me to tell her parents?"

Ah. There it was.

She wanted you to join her. This was certainly quite the twist. Everything that had happened up until now had alluded to the fact that you were going to join Steve for this season—and to be honest, you preferred that over this.

Besides, she was meant to do all of this with Jonathan—if you said yes, you'd just be getting in the way of their romance and, ergo, the plot itself.

"I don't know..." you started, mind already made up but heart trying its best to ease her into it, "the government wouldn't really like that and we could get in a ton of trouble."

She scoffed. "Who gives a fuck what they think?"

You deadpanned. "Well, Nance, they are kinda the government so..."

"There's this guy," she started, cutting you off and handing you a card, "Barb's parents told me about him—if things don't work out, we can go to him."

Sure enough, you recognised the character as soon as she mentioned him—another prominent adult within the series, quite the funny one too. But, not funny enough for you to pass up spending this season helping out Steve instead.

"Look, Nancy, I—"

You were cut off when her gaze hardened, fists clenching and head shaking from side-to-side—almost seeming disappointed.

"God, you're just like him." And when she spoke, it was bitter—plagued with an icky green—"You two are perfect for each other."

The following events happened too quickly for you to register; one second, she was standing before you with desperation clear on her visage—the next?—she had snatched the card right out from your hands and stormed over to your front door, steps heavy and quaking and loud.

"Nance, wait! Nancy!"

A slam.

Well shit.

You bit your lip, brain replaying the events that had just occurred in too rapid of a succession for you to be able to even respond to them.

A small voice prodded at the back of your mind, lulling you into following after her and clearing up... whatever the hell that was.

However, a much larger, more prominent voice said, fuck it. Because—well, you were in Stranger Things for god's sake! Who the hell cared about some teen drama when there were fucking monsters to worry about?—monsters that you sure as hell weren't about to face weaponless.

Nancy could get over whatever was bothering her so much on her own, you had bigger issues to worry about.

Come on, Y/N, get your head out of the clouds and into the game.

Resolve strengthened and distractions now temporarily at the back of your mind, your feet bounded towards a familiar box mounted onto the wall, fingers wrapping around the cool metal before you punched in a number you had long since memorised over your time in this world.

Turned out, this drama was just the push you needed.

"Harrington residence."

"Steve."

It was silent for a few seconds before you were graced with a response. "Y/N? If you're calling about the dinner at Barb's, I swear—"

"No, no. It's not that, don't worry."

Another pause.

"Are you... okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

"You sure? You sound a little... tense."

Your lips quirked up. "You can tell?"

"Well, yeah. I've known you since like, birth."

Leave it to Steve Harrington to put a smile on your face where there wasn't one before.

Seriously though, you might not have actually known him since birth but... something about him noticing how you felt from just the sound of your voice made you feel all... tingly inside—like a warm cloud of pure pink coated you within its comfy confines.

 "Y/N? You there?"

"Oh." You jolted, fingers halting in their ministrations with the phone wire, since when did you start twirling it around? "Uh, yeah. I just called to let you know I'm skipping tomorrow so don't bother picking me up, okay?"

"You're skipping? What? Why?"

"Just—uh, don't feel like it."

"You know you've already missed seven days, right?" 

"Yeah—" you shrugged as though he could see you, "—what's a couple more?"

"...alright, if that's what you want."

"Thanks Stevie, you're the best, love you!"

You slammed the phone back into the wall before he could respond, but you imagined he released quite the long sigh after your words.

Nevermind that though, you should probably head to bed—you had a long day ahead of you tomorrow; one consisting of many preparations for the challenges that lay ahead.

First things first, you needed yourself a weapon—and no, a wrench was not ideal. You got lucky the first time, you'd rather not risk it the second.

A gun; long reach, high chances of actually killing, probably easy to use—it sounded perfect. Just the thing you'd need. The only problem you could possibly see was...

...how would you get one?

You weren't terribly familiar with gun laws—never had the need to look into them—but even if you were, they definitely changed since the 80s so you were pretty much clueless in that regard. 

You could ask one of your brothers if they had one, they certainly seemed like the type—at least, Curt definitely did. 

Or maybe he's the type to only fight with his fists?

Tricky—that's what this all was. So tricky, in fact, that the rest of the night was spent contemplating how you would go about obtaining the lethal weapon—

—actually, that wasn't entirely true; you sure wished it was though. Unfortunately for you however, your brain rather stupidly refused to focus on the task at hand, randomly flushing you with thoughts of both your... mother and Nancy whenever you least expected it, two huge pieces of drama that you—quite frankly—didn't feel like dealing with.

But apparently, pushing them to the back of your mind was easier said than done.

Come next morning, you figured indulging in those thoughts wouldn't be too big of a headache after being well-rested with a nice cup of coffee to aid you through your day.

Okay, so, Nancy's behaviour last night wasn't too strange; she had that dinner at Barb's—one you knew she cried at since they dedicated a whole scene to her sobbing in the bathroom. That explained why she was quick to jump to aggression you guessed.

Still, it was strange how she snapped at you (basically her acquaintance) like how she had done Steve (her literal boyfriend) in the show. Did you get something wrong? Were you two closer than you thought you were? Perhaps you had some history with her you weren't aware of.

Unfortunately, until you had more information, you were gonna have to leave that trail of thought.

Now, about your mother...

"Morning, sis."

You nodded—eyes clouded—before responding with, "Morning Cain," and then, as if just registering who you were talking to after their name spilled from your lips, your eyes cleared up and you turned to continue with a much more firm voice, "Hey, do you know if we have any guns at home?"

He paused, one hand rested against the handle of the fridge, one floating mid-air. "Guns?"

"Yeah, guns."

He turned to you fully now, eyes narrowing and sturdy arms folding over his chest as the door shut behind him. "Why would you need to know where the guns are?"

The lie was quick to form on your tongue. "For self-defence, duh."

"Uh-huh."

"Please Cain—" you clasped both hands over each other, "—I promise I won't hurt anyone with them."

Not anyone human, at least.

"You do realise they're made for hurting people, right?"

"Yeah, but I won't use them that way."

He deadpanned. "You're not getting a gun."

"Dammit." 

Okay, this was fine. You could work with this. He just confirmed to you that you did, in fact, have guns in this house. All you had to do was look for them. And you knew just where to start.

"Uh, where the hell are you going?"

You paused, hand grazing the bumpy, wooden rail as you tilted your head just enough to peek into the kitchen again. "To my room, where else?"

"Don't you have school?"

"Don't you have a job?"

He crossed his arms again. "You're not skipping, shitbird."

"What?" 

"I said: you aren't skipping."

Your eyes widened, jaw dropping open and stomach falling with the spoilt remains of your plan—the ashes and dust piling up enough to cause you to splutter and ask, "You serious?"

His gaze was stern, holding no hint of that playful demeanour you acquainted yourself with last night, "Completely. No playing hooky. You've already got enough absents from that injury of yours."

As if suddenly reminded of its own existence, said wound sent a shock down your arm—trailing through your veins to usher a visible wince on your face.

Before you could say anything else though—plead your case and hope to god he'd let you off—his eyes widened a little, mouth forming a circle before he spoke again, saying, "That's why Harrington ain't here, right? You told him you were skipping?"

You said nothing.

A long, highly exasperated sigh. "Just go get ready, I'll drop you off."

He didn't have to tell you twice.

You rushed up the stairs, wasting no time to burst into a room flooded with posters—all holding different expressions with one, huge thing in common; a pair of bright red gloves.

If anyone had a gun, it was definitely Curt.

Tick. Tock. You were on a time constraint so you had to be quick with this. Anything that even remotely seemed to have enough space to hold a gun inside was instantly ripped open—hinges jingling and wood slamming against wood as your hands scurried the area—rummaged through the masses—desperately seeking what they had yet to find.

That was—until, now.

In the midst of multiple hung up pieces of soft materials shrouded in darkness, your fingers grazed something cold and solid; rough and bumpy. Slowly they wound around the thing, noting its shape, before exerting a force—a tug.

Nothing. It didn't budge.

You tried again, pushing this time.

Again. Nothing.

Third time's the charm.

This time, you pushed upwards.

Bingo.

As if by magic, it fell straight into your hands, and you wasted no time to pull it into the light.

Dark, L-shaped, and a lever poking out from one side—yup, there was no doubt about it. Though, it was one of the weaker variants of the lethal weapon—it would have to do.

Now you could—

"What are you doing in my room?"

Curt. Shit.

"Scratch that—what are you doing with a gun?!"

Your wrist was seized at the entrance before you could even attempt to sneak past—his E/C eyes trained on the object in your hand, not at all paying attention to the way your expression shifted into one of unease, smile twitching a little.

"Curt, hey! When did you come in..?"

"Doesn't matter," he dismissed, "Why do you have a gun? Is someone bothering you at school? You know you can say the word and I'll take care of it, right? Like in Freshman year?"

"Freshman year?" What happened in Freshman year?

"That dickhead Senior who kept picking on you? How did you forget that already?"

You parted your lips, an excuse practically begging to be released from your tongue, but he beat you to it.

"Nevermind, just tell me who it is and I'll take care of it. There's no need to bring a gun into it."

There's no need to bring a gun but it's totally okay beating them up? Some scuffed logic there.

"No one's bothering me, Curt. I uh, I just need it to kill the wolf that attacked me the other day."

He rose a brow. "Kill the wolf that attacked you the other day?"

"Uh... yup."

God, this was so stupid. What kind of excuse was that? 'Kill the wolf that attacked you the other day'? Yeah right.

"Atta girl. That's my sister."

A good excuse apparently—it was a good excuse.

You almost couldn't believe it—the way he pulled you in, wrapping his arm around your neck in a half-hug that almost made it seem as though he was proud of you.

Surely he had taken way too many hits to the head in his profession because you had no clue how he bought that.

But, you weren't complaining.

"Hey, uh, do me a favour?" 

He rose a brow. "What?"

"Don't tell Cain, yeah?" 

He rolled his eyes. "Of course not, he'd have my head in a heartbeat if he knew I was condoning this."

You grinned, just about ready to give him two thumbs up leaking gratitude and appreciation—when a voice called from downstairs.

"Y/N! Hurry up!"

"A few more minutes!"

That was your cue to go to your room.

Cool air hit your skin as soon as the cotton of your sleepwear was removed—the slight buzz of pain on your arm making itself known once more with another prick, annoying but not unbearable; not like before.

The new bandages looked better than the previous ones; cleaner. Some spots seemed to have given in—allowing red to seep through their snow-white sheets; stain their pure surface. Those parts were stickier than the others, but also, few and far between.

Damn, kinda looks badass.

"I'm not getting any younger here, Y/N!"

"I'm coming! Gheez."

What was that? His catchphrase or something?

With a roll of your eyes, you threw on a top, slipped into a skirt, very quickly touched up on your make-up, and ran down the steps. Nothing too elaborate—you didn't plan on actually going into school anyway.

What? You said you'd skip, so you were gonna skip. You'd just wait 'till he drove off or something.

Actually... this could work out better than you thought.

He was bringing you to school; where one Steve Harrington currently was. And you know what else was at school? Steve's BMW—AKA, the perfect place to store your gun until it was needed.

Yeah, this could work out perfectly.

"Get in, shitbird."

You said nothing, seizing the frigid handle like you had done many a time before, and climbing straight in.

The sky was bleak—the sun invisible; covered by the vast curtain of grey clouds that seemed uninteresting but, for some reason, you couldn't stop looking at. 

The pistol you held was tucked under you—out of sight; though not of mind. It felt cool against your skin, sent a shudder through you, up your spine and through your nerves. It kept you rigid.

"I would've let you skip."

You turned, observing the way Cain's gaze stayed trained onto the road ahead, one hand on the wheel, one resting on his lap.

"On any normal circumstance," he continued, shrugging, "but y'know, mom's home and—I don't know if you wanna stick around for that."

"Okay."

"You good?" Now he gave you a bit of a side-eye, one brow raised.

"Yeah, just... thinking about what I'm gonna wear for the Halloween bash at Tina's."

That was a lie, you honestly couldn't care less.

"Party, huh?" He turned his gaze back ahead. "I remember the ragers I used to go to way back when."

"Must've been fun, huh fossil?"

"Watch it, worm."

You snickered.

"Alright, we're here. Get out before I make you."

Older brothers are a piece of work.

You shimmied in your seat, swinging both legs over to the open door, hand firmly around the handle of the weapon beneath your thighs, when—

"What are you doing?"

You froze. "Uh, I don't... I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're getting out of the car weirdly." His tone was pointed—suspicious—and even without having to turn around, you could tell his brow was raised in question.

"No I'm not."

"Uh, yeah you are."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

Slowly, you found yourself able to move your limbs again—annoyance bringing both them and your own brow to life, filtering out any previous fear within an instant. "Don't you have work or something?" 

You heard nothing for a few tense moments—though soon, a curt—"Just go,"—made its way to your ears, and the weight on your shoulders was relieved of you.

Once again, you found yourself thinking, he didn't have to tell you twice.

The cool air almost felt relieving against your skin when you finally jumped out—the 'crunch!' of pebbles echoing beneath you—but nothing could compare to the pure amount of genuine solace you were graced with when the sound of the engine starting up again behind you danced into your ears; the sound of wheels skidding across the ground slowly growing farther.

That was a little too close for your liking.

No matter, it was time to find Steve's BMW. While looking for it, though, you might as well review your thoughts.

The events of Season 2 had already kicked off the moment you saw Billy, which meant that while you waited for the next canonical event to occur with the teens, the main group of kids were having their own scenes play out. You were sure by now they were off trying to befriend Billy's stepsister. But, quite frankly, that was irrelevant information to you.

What was relevant, however, was the fact that one of the kids—Dustin Henderson—would end up dragging Steve into quite the predicament. That predicament being one wherein he would end up being surrounded by a bunch of grotesque, man-eating monsters with nothing but a bat to defend himself with—granted, it had nails on the end but it was still not a weapon you'd use.

Now, more likely than not, you would be by his side while it all went down—and you already established that you weren't about to die in this world, so, really, your only option was getting that gun to use in case those demon dogs changed their minds and decided they wanted a taste of fresh, alternative dimension meat.

You had seen first-hand what they were like—held scars they forced onto you on your first day. You felt that chilling fear grip you at the sight of them—chain your limbs up and strangle you enough to almost render you immovable; immobile. Their boney structure, their razor-sharp teeth, their—

"N/N? What are you doing here?"

You jumped, startled out of your thoughts to meet with two pools of brown—familiar in their warmth and softened edges.

"I thought you were playing hooky today."

"Oh, uh—" you cleared your throat, patting down the ruffles of your skirt and avoiding any eye-contact, "—I still am but, Cain caught me and drove me to school so."

He didn't say anything after that, so you took to peering up again. This time, however, you were met with a different set of eyes, ones looking a little bloodshot and inflamed—barely noticeable if you hadn't already seen it the previous night. 

They were looking at you through narrowed lenses, pupils shrunk in and gaze heavy with the events of the other night—the distaste of that fateful encounter.

You looked away.

"Oh, uh, Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"I uh, left some of my lipstick in your car, do you mind if I go grab it?"

You returned your gaze to him just in time to catch the pointed look on his face, hands on his hips in that 'mom' way that just screamed Steve Harrington.

"Really, N/N? This is—what?—like the tenth time already?"

You forced a sheepish look, turning your lips up with nerves that weren't triggered by the sentence you'd just heard, per se—but rather, the pair of eyes still burning a hole through your head.

You ignored them when Steve tossed you the keys with a playful roll of his eyes; when you half-entered the car, stuffing the gun into a compartment you knew he wouldn't open anytime soon; you even ignored them as you made your way back to the duo, handing Steve his keys back and quickly denying his offer to cut class with you.

"You sure?" He pushed, brows scrunched up and lips tugged down.

"Yup!" You rose both thumbs. "Hundred percent!"

He parted his mouth open but you didn't wait for a response, turning around quickly to scurry off with those eyes still refusing to leave your backside.

Why the hell did she have to be there?

You couldn't even enjoy your successful little quest, too tense from Nancy's heavy gaze to do anything. It was as though the moment you saw her, your brain instantly replayed the events of last night—the disdain in her voice—and from the looks of her glare, she had the same problem.

Man, this sucked.

You just wanted to experience the world of Stranger Things as safely and non-dramatically as possible but noooo, you had to deal with freaking monsters and teenage girls who—

"Woah, we have got to stop bumping into each other like this."

Your lashes fluttered, eyes training onto a familiar battle jacket littered with logos a plenty—all of which belonged to heavy metal bands. 

"Eddie." 

"Hey, sweetheart." His lips quirked up—smile reaching his eyes so much so that they crinkled. "What are you doing here? I thought you were playing hooky?"

You deadpanned. "Does everyone know I'm skipping?"

"Well, you are kinda the Queen Bee, sweetheart." His hair bounced as he shrugged.

A thought occurred to you just then, and you found your eyes widening slightly in alarm. "Even the teachers?!"

"Well, no wastoid is exactly going to tell any teachers that the Queen of Hawkins High is skipping." 

Wastoid? Wha—?

"Hey, uh—" you blinked, watching as Eddie took to throwing a hand behind his neck, rubbing against the skin as he continued, tone feigning confidence, "—I was actually planning on skipping too so, if you want, we could hotbox in my car?"

Tempting. With all this stress from Nancy, your mom, and the demodogs—weed seemed like the perfect thing to kick back to.

You deserved some time to relax, no? 

"Yeah, sure, let's do it."

He perked up, excitement seeping through the grin on his lips as he dramatically bowed with one hand stretched out. "Right this way, milady."

You giggled, your own hand rising up to rest gently against his as you tried your damndest to keep from squealing because—holy shit, you were holding Eddie Munson's hand. You knew girls who would fucking kill to be in your position right now.

His skin was hot against your own; or maybe that was just your whole body heating up in general. You couldn't deny your attraction to the man—hell, you got literal heart eyes whenever you watched him on TV.

Eddie Munson—the guy who got held back in high-school for two years (well—one year as of right now). Eddie Munson—the guy who held the personality of a fun, playful ray of sunshine despite the way he dressed. Eddie Munson—the guy who sacrificed himself to save a whole town of people who abhorred him.

Yeah, you had a big, fat crush on the man.

He could literally be leading you to your death right now and you'd thank him.

"Alright," the sound of a car door sliding open perked your ears up, "I just got a new batch rolling in from Cali so—"

He cut himself off when he turned back around, jaw falling slack as a streak of red slowly crawled across his face, tinging the tips of his ears and ushering a cough straight out of his mouth.

Now, you would normally wonder why he'd reacted that way but you were too distracted by the ache of your own cheeks to—

Ohhh. The ache of your own cheeks.

You quickly cleared your throat, steeling your expression and cursing yourself for being so obvious. Gushing so blatantly in front of characters was going to get you killed in this world, you really had to get rid of that habit.

Lord knew what type of ridiculous expression you had on your face just then.

"Right, uh, you were saying?" You asked as you climbed in, willing yourself to ignore what had just happened.

"Oh, uh, I just had a new batch come in from Cali."

You perked up, interest piqued. "From Cali?! They have the best stuff."

He grinned with you, blush calming down as he rummaged around, hands digging through the many different boxes that scattered the floor.

Meanwhile, you took to shutting the door of the vehicle. Come to think of it, this van kinda looked a bit like the mystery van from scooby doo, except, without the colour. 

It was a mess on the inside; if there weren't boxes of who-knows-what substances lying around, then there were various different instruments instead, nothing differing from the norm associated with a band; and yet, just the fact that Eddie was here—that all of this belonged to him—was enough to make it feel special.

You should really ask Eddie if you could sit in on one of his practices one day.

Speaking of the drug dealer, he finally emerged from the pile of boxes hidden in the corner—a plastic zip bag containing a crushed substance within one of his ring-clad hands.

He flicked it with a grin on his face, head turning up as a pair of excited pools met with your own. "Bag of peaceful bliss right here."

You watched with intrigue as his fingers got to work, rolling up the substance effortlessly, as if he'd done it a million times before—which, granted, he probably had.

"Ladies first."

Your lips quirked up, fingers winding around the roll and, in turn, brushing against his own. It was a light touch—a feathery brush—still, it was enough to run tingles down your arm.

The stick was placed to your mouth with one hand, the other curling in on itself in a gesture that asked Eddie to pass over the lighter.

His large hand slowly came to cup your own, fingers engulfing yours—sending warmth to circulate in your blood; to flood your vision in pink—before lightly moving it away. "Allow me, sweetheart."

You didn't move, staying still as he pulled the metallic box up to your face, thumb flicking against the open lid a few times before the flame jumped to life.

It was hot; unbearably so—his breath across your face. The flame was practically nothing compared to him and his proximity. And it only got hotter as you continued staring at him.

It was because you were staring at him so intensely, in fact, that you caught the way his eyes briefly flickered. It was quick, barely noticeable—but you had noticed, and you had seen where they looked.

Your lips quirked up and you took the roll out of your mouth, puffing smoke straight into his face. "Staring at my lips, huh, pretty boy?"

Your grin only grew when he spluttered. 

Before he could respond, though, you had lightly shoved the roll into his mouth—lips still quirked up.

You only withdrew when he rose two fingers to rest the cigar against. 

"Hey, Eddie?"

He blinked.

"You're not gonna make me pay for this, are you?"

The roll left his mouth with a puff. "Depends."

As he placed it back inside, you rose a brow. "Oh?"

"Yeah, oh."

"Well..." you trailed off, slowly shifting your hips up before plopping them back down—

—straight. onto. his. lap.

His breath audibly hitched; a series of coughs following not long after.

"Careful," you hissed out, plucking the roll from his lips and shifting in your seat—about to climb off—when a warmth snaked its way around your waist, rendering you motionless.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Heat crawled up your spine, invading your senses and hyperfixating your attention on Eddie and the way his lips grazed the lobe of your ear. Any and all previous thoughts were washed away; taking with them your breath.

His hand fell over your own again, ushering the substance back into your mouth and your eyes grew heavy as you took another puff, melting into putty in the arms of the school freak.

The car was quickly fogging up—everywhere you breathed was starting to have that strong, earthy taste to it.

Trippy.

You pulled away, mind hazy and barely able to register the way his lips tugged down. 

With just a little wiggle of your hips, his arms fell and his brows scrunched up with worry. You didn't let him voice it though, quickly turning around to lay down and prop your elbows up on his thighs—arms almost immediately going lax once you got comfortable.

Your head now rested on his lap, and you peered up at him through hooded eyes. "Much better."

He smiled down at you again, finger moving to trace your cheek with that same feathery touch from before—the one that elicited a flurry of tingles through your skin.

"Tell me about yourself, Eds."

"Hm?"

"I wanna know you better."

Better than you already did, that was.

"What d'you wanna know?" He asked.

"Anything." You threw your hands up, puffing once more. "I wanna know more 'bout Super Senior Eddie Munson."

He hummed. "I plan to make it big one day."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Groupies 'n everything."

You reached up, placing the blunt against his lips as you proclaimed loudly, "I bet they would trip over 'emselves to get a taste of you."

He winked. "That's what 'm planning." Then, he paused for a minute, expression softening before another inquiry left his mouth. "What about you?"

"Me?"

What were you planning? Survival, really. But, to be honest—and this wasn't just the weed speaking (or was it? You couldn't really tell)—you just wanted to experience the show; meet the characters and bond over little things. Kinda like what you were doing right now.

"I plan on..."

The characters from this show were precious, and you loved them all to bits. They didn't deserve any of what happened to them, that was why you planned on...

"...protecting those I love."

Yeah, perfect.

His eyes widened a little—startled, no doubt, and not expecting that kind of response from you. The perfect opportunity to trip him up more.

"Wanna be one of them?" 

He already was one but—he didn't know that.

You assumed he must've been too flustered to talk, because he didn't respond to that—only choosing to continuously blink at you.

This weed was sure making your confidence sky rocket.

Speaking of things the weed was doing for you—your vision was tripping majorly.

The ceiling seemed to zoom in, but also zoom out at the same time, and sometimes you swore you could see the detailed wisps of the smoke that flooded the car's inside; the very atoms that made them up. 

Colours were hard to register in your mind; their names even harder—but, with how relaxed the fumes were making you and your tensed muscles, you couldn't really bring yourself to care.

And Eddie—oh Eddie—he just looked so pretty to you right now; so jaw-dropping and mesmerising. Even with how red his eyes were and the extent at which his pupils dilated, they still looked tremendously pretty. His lips were so cute, pink and begging for attention.

You couldn't help it; the way your hand reached out to cup his cheek and guide his head down. Luckily, though, you still had enough sense to tilt his head enough so that instead of your lips touching, your noses did.

If you were going to kiss Eddie, it sure as hell wasn't happening while you were high.

"Y'know," Eddie breathed into your eyes, causing them to flutter shut as you hummed, "I used to think you were a huge bitch."

That shot your eyes open.

"I mean, when you stuck around with people like Tommy H and Carol, it was kinda hard not to."

Ah. Steve's former friends.

"Not to mention King Steve. Though, I don't know if I should call him that anymore."

"'Cause of Billy?"

"Yeah." He chuckled. "Have you seen him? It's only, like, his second day and he's got girls wrapped around his finger like it's nothing."

"I'm sure it'll stay that way permanently too."

"Yeah, he seems like the type to like it."

"Hm?"

"The attention."

Your lips tugged down. "Are you implying something, Eddie?"

"...maybe a little."

Your frown grew deeper. "Y'know, Eds, you shouldn't judge people without getting to know them first."

"Oh? And I suppose you know a ton about Hargrove, huh?"

You narrowed your eyes before you spoke again—tone laced in warning—"Eddie."

He rose both hands, and you let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding in.

"My bad."

"It's okay, let's just forget about it," you said, "I came here to relax and enjoy some time away from stress."

"Stress?"

Well, you supposed it wouldn't be the end of the world if you shared a little with the class. 

"Nancy said something... weird to me the other night." 

"Harrington's girl?"

"Yeah... she sounded bitter."

"Maybe she was jealous."

You moved to sit up but Eddie was quick to push you back down, both hands placed firmly—yet gently—on your shoulders. "Jealous?"

"Yeah."

"Why would she be jealous for?"

He scoffed. "Oh please, you and Harrington are attached at the hip—if I were your boyfriend, I would be jealous."

For a moment, you allowed yourself to ignore the hypothetical scenario of Eddie being your boyfriend, if only to pay more attention to the apparent green creature that held Nancy by the neck.

Could it be? Was she jealous? Was that why she reacted as strongly as she did when you tried to let her down slowly?

"Hey now, whatever you're thinking, stop thinking it." Eddie's finger tapped against your cheek, sending tiny ripples through your skin. "You said it yourself, you're here to relax, not to stress."

He couldn't be more right.

And with that thought in mind, you sank deeper into the warmth of Eddie's lap, pure safety and comfort shrouding your form—blanketing you so nicely in the soothing presence that was Eddie Munson.

And as your eyes fluttered shut, you whispered one last thing with a warm smile, "This was nice. Thank you, Eddie."

@bdudette, @tanyaherondale, @killerqueenfan, @l3xiluve, @thedoubleexposurephotography, @xxqueenofdemonsxx, @briarsheart, @nickey-diano, @uselessbutinteresting, @steeldaisies, @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom, @patheticreative, @majestichugs, @eddiesbitch83, @secretdryrose, @bloodywickedvamp, @charlizekkelly, @sophiaj650, @mfnqueen1, @axionn, @harrysgoldenwatermelon, @simpfo, @adrienette715, @tippyeddy

I've been watching a lot of zombie stuff recently so I was wondering how Steve, Eddie, and Billy would react to a zombie apocalypse. I'm tempted to write an au but I need to focus on the next part 😭

Tell you what, if the masterlist to this series ever reaches 500 notes, I'll write a zombie apocalypse AU (Edit: Holy shit, it's at 400, wtf?)

[faeriekit]

some venting: on parent fandom acceptance and the danny phantom tag

Honestly, the worst thing that certain Danny Phantom fans have done on this site to other fans is say that dp x dc is its own fandom. It's not. There's no such thing as a "crossover fandom" unique unto itself. You can say that people are too into this crossover or too into this au or whatever, but people who are fans of DC and Danny Phantom are into Danny Phantom and DC. That's just. What it is. Both properties are cool and combining them adds more characters and settings to play with together. All lore leads back to one or both parent fandoms, because those are the source material.

"Well the DC crossovers are so different—" Please. There have been Danny Phantom and Teen Titans crossovers since Danny Phantom was airing. I have read crossovers with House, NCIS, Supernatural, and probably anything else ffn had to bother with. One of my favorite works is a Gravity Falls fancomic that I still hope will update one day. No one cared how it was crossover then. In fact, I would say that we were one of the most crossed-over properties I knew of at the time that wasn't a SuperWhoLock-type popular show. DC crossovers are not new, they're just popular now.

"Well, it's got its own lore! >:(" Oh, like the vivisection aus? The Full Ghost aus? The corpse aus? The Danny-is-a-portal aus?? Tell me more about how new it is for an au to have its own unique lore. Love to hear it. Definitely it's the same for every author with no variation. There's for sure no unique takes from fans at every step of the way.

"Well, there's so MUCH of it." Tell me more about how other people having fun in their own way is your problem. Go ahead. Tell me more about how other people doing their own thing is personally horrible to you. It's really terrible when people do things you don't want to engage with, isn't it. It has to be separate from your fun. There is definitely no place where they blend; it has to be segregated altogether.

"But they're doing it in MY tag!" Oh, the Danny Phantom tag? The one with Danny in it? Where he's a main character? In the art and fic where he features??

The result is exactly as you'd expect; people who would be interested in joining the Danny Phantom community and making art and fic long-term because they like the characters and the show are getting sidelined because they're failing to like the show in the 'right way'. People who might love to join in and participate in community events and discussion and bring new ideas and aus to the table are being told that they like something completely different than the show in a way that, you know, somehow the original and extremely malleable fandom isn't??

I've been following multiple Danny Phantom blogs (or their author blogs that used to post dp fic) on and off on different accounts since 2015. I used to read Danny Phantom fanfic on ffn on my ipod touch during lunch or on my laptop once I made it home from school years before I even made a tumblr. I used to look forward to Dannymay and Ectober and I think I was even on tumblr the year that Narwhals started the Dannypocalypse?? (I for sure only saw the fallout though. I think I was busy that day)

I don't even open the Danny Phantom tag anymore. I still follow the people I follow...minus the people who've talked crap about fans who like Danny Phantom wrong, apparently, and I hope that good art comes my way without the constant underlying message that we're a scourge on our own fandom, I guess.

Congrats. There are no Danny Phantom fans who find the show through this form of crossover content. You've convinced them there's no point. They have their own tag, their own headcanons, their own fics, and their own culture. Are you happy now? Are you proud to be the fandom that doesn't want new fans? Is it nice, that people won't want to see your art and fics now, despite being hungry for new content? Did it help? Are you better for it? Did you maintain that canon purity you craved??

I saw a supernatural x danny phantom art piece today that kicked ass. It's from an artist I really, really like, who makes a lot of great stuff. I've bought their merch before and was excited all the way through their creative journey. No one tried to jump on them for crossover posting in the Danny Phantom space, using lore that's unique to that crossover.

But it's not about the crossover itself, is it.

[alwaysbewoke]

NINE HOLOCAUST SURVIVORS COMPARE ZIONIST POLICIES TO THOSE OF THE NAZIS

“Sometime after [1956] I heard a news item about Israelis herding Palestinians into settlement camps. I just could not believe this. Weren’t the Israelis also Jews? Hadn’t we – they – just survived the greatest pogrom of our history? Weren’t [concentration] camps – often euphemistically called ‘settlement camps’ by the Nazis – the main feature of this pogrom? How could Jews in any measure do unto others what had been done to them? How could these Israeli Jews oppress and imprison other people? In my romantic imagination, the Jews in Israel were socialists and people who knew right from wrong. This was clearly incorrect. I felt let down, as if I was being robbed of a part of what I had thought was my heritage. …

I have to say to the Israeli government, which claims to speak in the name of all Jews, that it is not speaking in my name. I will not remain silent in the face of the attempted annihilation of the Palestinians; the sale of arms to repressive regimes around the world; the attempt to stifle criticism of Israel in the media worldwide; or the twisting of the knife labelled ‘guilt’ in order to gain economic concessions from Western countries. Of course, Israel’s geo-political position has a greater bearing on this, at the moment. I will not allow the confounding of the terms ‘anti-Semitic’ and ‘anti-Zionist’ to go unchallenged.”

Dr. Marika Sherwood, ‘How I became an anti-Israel Jew’, Middle East Monitor, 7/3/18. Marika Sherwood is a survivor of the Budapest ghetto.

-----

“Israel, in order to survive, has to renounce the wish for domination and then it will be a much better place for Jews also. The immediate analogy which a lot of people are making in Israel is Germany. Not only the Germany of Hitler and the Nazis but even the former German Empire wanted to dominate Europe. What happened in Japan after the attack on China is that they wanted to dominate a huge area of Asia. When Germany and Japan renounced the wish for domination, they became much nicer societies for the Japanese and Germans themselves. In addition to all the Arab considerations, I would like to see Israel, by renouncing the desire for domination, including domination of the Palestinians, become a much nicer place for Israelis to live.”

Dr. Israel Shahak, Middle East Policy Journal, Summer 1989, no.29. Israel Shahak was a survivor of the Warsaw ghetto and Bergen-Belsen concentration camp.

-----

“I am pained by the parallels I observe between my experiences in Germany prior to 1939 and those suffered by Palestinians today. I cannot help but hear echoes of the Nazi mythos of ‘blood and soil’ in the rhetoric of settler fundamentalism which claims a sacred right to all the lands of biblical Judea and Samaria. The various forms of collective punishment visited upon the Palestinian people – coerced ghettoization behind a ‘security wall’; the bulldozing of homes and destruction of fields; the bombing of schools, mosques, and government buildings; an economic blockade that deprives people of the water, food, medicine, education and the basic necessities for dignified survival – force me to recall the deprivations and humiliations that I experienced in my youth. This century-long process of oppression means unimaginable suffering for Palestinians.” 

Dr. Hajo Meyer, ‘An Ethical Tradition Betrayed’, Huffington Post, 27/1/10. Hajo Meyer was a survivor of Auschwitz.

-----

“As a Jewish youngster growing up in Budapest, an infant survivor of the Nazi genocide, I was for years haunted by a question resounding in my brain with such force that sometimes my head would spin: ‘How was it possible? How could the world have let such horrors happen?’

 It was a naïve question, that of a child. I know better now: such is reality. Whether in Vietnam or Rwanda or Syria, humanity stands by either complicitly or unconsciously or helplessly, as it always does. In Gaza today we find ways of justifying the bombing of hospitals, the annihilation of families at dinner, the killing of pre-adolescents playing soccer on a beach. …

There is no understanding Gaza out of context – Hamas rockets or unjustifiable terrorist attacks on civilians – and that context is the longest ongoing ethnic cleansing operation in the recent and present centuries, the ongoing attempt to destroy Palestinian nationhood.

The Palestinians use tunnels? So did my heroes, the poorly armed fighters of the Warsaw Ghetto. Unlike Israel, Palestinians lack Apache helicopters, guided drones, jet fighters with bombs, laser-guided artillery. Out of impotent defiance, they fire inept rockets, causing terror for innocent Israelis but rarely physical harm. With such a gross imbalance of power, there is no equivalence of culpability. …

And what shall we do, we ordinary people? I pray we can listen to our hearts. My heart tells me that ‘never again’ is not a tribal slogan, that the murder of my grandparents in Auschwitz does not justify the ongoing dispossession of Palestinians, that justice, truth, peace are not tribal prerogatives. That Israel’s ‘right to defend itself,’ unarguable in principle, does not validate mass killing.

Dr. Gabor Mate, ‘Beautiful Dream of Israel has become a Nightmare’, Toronto Star, 22/7/14. Gabor Mate is a survivor of the Budapest ghetto.

[yourfingeronmytriggers]

The "Ghoulcy" Songs of Fallout 2/4

“I Can Dream, Can’t I?

I admit this song both excites and puts a shadow over my ghoulcy shipping heart. But OH– how it pulls deliciously on my poor heart strings.

This song may well speak to how Ghoulcy ends. If Lucy cannot/does not break through to him, everything may well end as “a dream” which is never fulfilled. 

This scene, part of which I already did an analysis on, is just so heartbreaking with the addition of this melody crooning in the background.

I can see, no matter how near you’ll be

You’ll never belong to me

But I can dream, can’t I?

Can’t I pretend I’m locked in the bend of your embrace?

For dreams are just like wine

And I am drunk on mine.

Intentional or not, the word play here is perfect: he’s literally going on a bender and drinking himself stupid because sure a ghoul + a load of drugs= no brainer. But it’s more than that here. Lucy’s just thrown him for a loop by sticking to her Golden Rule when she could have taken her revenge. She proved tough enough to survive and still show mercy when given the opportunity to “do unto him” as he had done unto her.

And uh-oh– because the ghoul has survived his own trauma for the last 200 years on the principle that things like that–people like that– didn’t really exist in this world.

And now she's gone and challenged this, he chooses to try to lose himself to old habits and poor coping skills. Except it backfires. He just can't escape so easily from his demons.

I’m aware, my heart’s a sad affair

There’s much disillusion there

But I can dream, can’t I?

Everything he thought Barb was (but ended up not being) is superimposing in his mind over everything Lucy embodied when she laid down those vials and spared him. In that moment she had the power of his life and death in her hands and she made the choice Barb, his wife and lover, did not.

And I think that sort of terrifies him. I think he is almost as afraid of her proving him right about the world as he is her proving him wrong. 

Can’t I adore you, although we are oceans apart?

I can’t make you open your heart

But I can dream, can’t I?

They’ve gone their separate ways…for now. And Cooper’s left alone to dwell on all of it.

I know they said for season 2 they were going to be playing with the idea of how far Lucy could be pushed while holding on to her “golden center” and I think how that plays out will be vital in how things go for Ghoulcy. If she can manage to hold on to at least some semblance of herself despite having to harden somewhat, I think that will be the key to opening up the Ghoul’s heart again.

And yet.

I think the Ghoul is marked for tragedy. I fear he may even be marked for death.

But I can dream, can’t I?

[icouldntfinditsoiwroteit]

Made something?

I've been really obssesing over poppy playime lately, the game is so damn good, I genuinly love it, so this is mostly just work in progress and a small "lab test" if you may when it come to my writting since I want to experiment with stuff.

"You....Your Poppy's angel" Those where the first words you heard from to the giant mangled creature that resembled the critter Dogday.

"Come to save us" His voice was hoarse, his lower body completely gone, all the while his hand where held unto metal hooks to keep his body...or what remained of it suspended in the air.

"Nothing left to save...not here" How right he was, you had come here to try and get answers, at least to try and understand what had happened, what had gone wrong and yet you had only found death and failure...but this was new.

"You're in Catnaps home, angel" For the first time since entering this forgotten place you had found...suffering...fresh real suffering, of course you could guess Mommy longlegs had died painfully but that ws nothing compare to this...thing...

"Their home, a million pairs of eyes are on you now," This was never meant to happen, you had come here with a clear goal and yet now...you could only feel bad...not pitty but genuinely sad, there was nothing you could do for those old coworkers who were long dead, or for the children who you were pretty sure had shared the same fate as your coworkers did.

"Watching, waiting, hungry..." Hungry...that had always bothered you, it was such a huge design flaw, you had tried to tell them, how there needed to be some change so they wouldn't need to eat, you had even given them the absolute best reason, it would cost less to mantain, and yet they hadn't listened...

"They want nothing more than to crawl beneath your skin and eat away at you bit by litte bit," You really wish those higher up brainless sad excuses of human beings would still be alive so you could laugh at them...although they did get eaten, so that will have to do at least.

"And feel what is empty inside themselves" The little failures would be dissapointed with what they found...little to fill their empty husks.

"Listen to me, you need to get out of this place," Tempting...

"You need to live," It's not like you're interested in doing otherwise, to many loose ends to leave behind by selfishly dying.

"You and Poppy can fix this, end this madness, the torment, the-oh no," Those small critters had started inching closer to the mangled body of Dogday, they were so fucking ugly, such failures about to twist even more one of the few succesful ones, one you had spent so much work nd time on, he looked utterly helpless, pathetic and...terrified

"OH NO!" He was absolutely terrified, of course anyone would be if small creatures were about to eat their insides bit by bit, it is only natural to fear such  painfull death and yet...

"Leave me, please, just go, RUN!!" He was still trying to get you to leave, more worried about you than himself...

You really don't realize what you've done until after you've done it that the screams of the small critters fill the room as you shoot them with the bengal gun hand as you pull Dogday with all your strength much to his shock as he basically falls on top of you, causing you to almost fall over from the unexpected weight, yet you manage not to fall back as you regain your bearing, holding Dogday tightly, the plushfur of his body was all matted and smelled putried almost making you drop him and recoil.

But you didn't...

"Angel what are you doing?" His voice sounded absolutely shocked yet terrified at the same time.

"You shouldn't have done that, Catnap won't let this pass!" He was now panicking as you manuvered him so he would be on you back.

"Hold my shoulders, don't let go," You order and he does as told, holding unto your shoulders, almost reminding you of a plushie backpack, except the plushie was giant, missing half of it's body and absolutely dirty...

Oh well, you'd fix that later, now you needed to get out of this damned laberynth of a place before those disgusting small critters got to you.

[jxfndm]

JEREMIAH FISHER X FEM! READER - FLUFF

“im right here with you”

warnings! - dni if youre uncomfortable with: alcohol mentions, mentions of pregnancy

quick a/n - THIS WAS IN MY HEADDDDDD and its just such a cute idea lol, enjoy <3

jeremiah fisher

"Baby, you sure you’re feeling alright?" I questioned Y/N. She looked pale and just not like herself.

She gave me a look, one signaling to stop asking her. I’d been asking her on the car ride over and at home. The past few days she’s been feeling tired and nauseous. The thing about Y/N is that she’ll tough out any sickness because she hated worrying me.

"Jere, I’m fine. I told you, I just think the dinner from the other night was a little old. That’s all." she stated blankly, giving me a half reassuring smile. I sighed, rubbing the top of her hand before nodding my head.

I was determined to find out what’s wrong. But maybe she’ll feel better after seeing Belly, that was her best friend. Girls time always made her feel better.

We were at Belly’s 21st, and everyone was here. It was nice to be around the gang again, especially because it was here in Cousin’s. Me and Y/N moved to our own place at the beginning of the year and haven’t had a chance to come down till now. This was nice.

"I’m going to grab a beer, do you want anything? Even a water?" I asked, my voice raised over the blaring music. Y/N smiled before responding, "Just water."

I nodded, as I walked over to the cooler. By the time I had arrived back into the living room, I had seen Belly and Y/N sitting on the couch. She was beaming, but still looked off. Maybe she just needed some space, it wouldn’t hurt to catch up with Con and Steven anyway.

I walked over and handed Y/N the bottle of water as I rubbed her shoulder. She gave me a smile and mouthed a “thank you”.

I leaned down to her ear, "I’m gonna find the guys. Just text me if you need anything."

She nodded and gave me a quick peck before settling back unto her conversation with Belly. I quickly greeted Belly as I walked off to find the guys. I just hoped Y/N was okay.

y/n

I had been talking to Belly for all of 5 minutes after Jeremiah left before I felt the need to throw up. I had done that quite a few times lately.

Quickly, I barged into the bathroom closest to us, emptying myself over the toilet. Tears brimmed my eyes, and exhaustion took over me quickly. I hated this, that seafood from our dinner a few days ago was probably expired for months.

I felt a hand rub at the smalls of my back. Turning, I was surprised to be met with Belly, who gave me a small smile. I grabbed toilet paper to wipe the sides of my mouth and flushed. I sat and turned towards her as she handed me my water bottle.

"Dude, are you okay?" she asked, cocking her eyebrow at me. I looked at her and then at the open door behind her. She quickly got up and locked it, kneeling back down in front of me.

Belly was my best friend, practically since birth. My mom, Susannah, and Laurel had all gone to the same college and raised all of us like one big family. If there’s one person I knew I would have trouble lying to, it was the beautiful birthday girl in front of me. I felt bad, she was here in her cute lavender dress and should be out there enjoying herself.

"It’s nothing, probably food poisoning," I said, closing my eyes as I took a small swig of water. Belly placed her hand gently on my kneecap. I opened my eyes to meet her serious ones.

"Y/N, you don’t have to lie to me. And don’t feel bad either. I just want to make sure my best friend is okay. You’ve been throwing up for almost a week. What’s going on?" she questioned seriously. I took a deep breath.

"I’m late on my period. And the sickness has been constant. I haven’t tested though, mainly because I’m scared. I don’t know how ready me and Jere are for a baby, that’s just kind of a lot for me right now," I explained, my eyes watering at the thought. The hormones were definitely out of control.

"Y/N! Oh my God, you have to test! Why are you even doubting anything, Jere has been madly in love with you since he was like 7. You need to find out and tell him, that’s the right thing to do!" Belly exclaimed, holding my hand.

"I know, but-" I started, but Belly quickly cut me off by standing up and rummaging through the sink cabinets. She pulled out a box.

Quickly, I realized what it was and gave her a look.

"I use it for scares with Conrad. But you have to take one, and I’ll be here with you. I know you’re scared, but you have to know. Plus, Jere will only buy your water excuse for another hour before he wonders why you won’t toast shots with us." she explained, handing over the pink and white box.

I rolled my eyes and rubbed my temples. Was I really about to do this? Fuck.

"Fine. I’ll test. Turn around." I stated, earning a wide smile from Belly.

Belly quickly turned around as I pulled a stick from the box, unwrapping it and hovering over it on the toilet. I peed quickly and put the cap over it, turning it face down onto the counter as I cleaned up.

"Can I turn around now?" Belly whined, her arms crossed. I flattened my dress out, "Yeah, go ahead. I turned it face down, we can check in three."

She turned around and gave me a big hug. I exhaled deeply into the hug, worried about what this would mean for my relationship with Jere. I didn’t want to start thinking until I saw the test, but it was hard not to.

Me and Belly sat in the bathroom in silence. I fiddled with my fingers as she would occasionally look over and scroll through her phone. Her timer went off and suddenly, panic filled my body.

"It’s time," she whispered, starting to get up from the side of the tub. I took a deep breath as she waited for me to get up. I couldn’t believe this.

I felt like I was going in slow motion, but eventually made it to the counter. I closed my eyes and reached for the test. Belly waited impatiently, but stayed quiet throughout.

I finally felt the test flip over in my hand. I opened my eyes and couldn’t believe what I was looking at. Tears welled in my eyes and I suddenly couldn’t hold it together anymore.

Positive. I’m pregnant.

I slid down the wall with the test in my hands and sobbed into my knees. Belly knelt down in front of me and pulled me in, rubbing my back as I breathed heavily into my cries.

"Y/N, it’s going to be okay, I promise." she comforted, but all I could do was continue crying. I sat there, in shock and a mess. My makeup was definitely fucked up now, and I knew I couldn’t hide it from Jeremiah. I couldn’t lie much longer, especially now that Belly knew. Jere had every right to know.

"I have to tell him," I sniffled, dabbing under my eyes with the toilet paper. Belly smiled softly and nodded.

"Want me to get him?" Belly questioned. I thought about it, and ultimately decided I was way too embarrassed to walk out there looking like a mess, especially since I wasn’t too sure who I’d be running into. I nodded in response, resulting in Belly to leave with her phone and close the bathroom door.

I felt choked up, this felt like a dream. I wasn’t sure how to feel, other than the fact that I was worried about every outcome possible. Would he be upset? Would he leave? Would I have to raise this kid all by myself?

My thoughts were quickly interrupted with a soft knock at the door. I wiped my tears once more and tried my best to pull myself together. This was it. God help me.

I ooened the door to face a worried Jere.

"Y/N Belly told me to- what’s wrong? What happened?" he questioned worriedly as he saw my face. His hands immediately dropped into mine as he pushed us into the bathroom. He locked the door behind him as he sat me on the tub. I assumed Belly was giving us space, hence why she didn’t show up with him.

I fiddled with my dress pocket, twisting the test between my fingers. I took a deep breath as I looked at him, tears slowly dropping. He was everything to me, and the idea of this test changing everything for us made me sick. I couldn’t lose him, I didn’t want to.

"Jere, I’m so sorry," I whispered, as I silently cried again. He was kneeling in front of me as he pulled me into his chest and rubbed my back.

"Y/N, there’s nothing to be sorry for. What’s going on? I’m worried about you," he stated as he pulled away, gently rubbing my sides as he looked at me cluelessly. I knew I couldn’t drag it out.

I pulled the test out of my pocked and handed it to him, saying, "Jeremiah, I’m pregnant."

I looked at him for what felt like ages. He looked at the test quietly, as shock filled his expression. I couldn’t help but cry again, feeling like I’d absolutely lost him.

Surprisingly, he engulfed me into a deep, passionate kiss. I kissed back, shock settling into my body. He pulled away with the biggest smile on his face, rubbing my cheeks.

"Y/N, this is the best fucking news ever." he said, chuckling as he took both my hands. I had stopped crying and just looked at him.

Stuttering, I finally managed a "I-it is?"

He nodded, his smile growing bigger. In turn, it made me smile. I looked at him as he squeezed my hands.

"We’re gonna be parents. I’m gonna be a dad. Holy fuck Y/N!" he exclaimed as he got up, still holding my hands. I got up from the tub, a small giggle escaping my mouth.

"I was so scared you’d leave." I blurted, leaning my head against his chest. It was warm and felt like home. It was everything I’d ever want it to be.

"Baby, I would never leave you. Not in a million fucking years. Please don’t ever think that. I want to do everything in life with you, no matter what it is. You don’t have to be scared, because I’m right here with you." he said, cupping my cheek and bringing my chin up to face him. I smiled as he leaned in.

We kissed again, this time, it felt different. More meaningful. I was going to raise our first child with him. I couldn’t help but feel all sorts of excitement.

We pulled apart, as I melted into his arms again. "I love you so fucking much Y/N," he said.

I smiled as I looked at him. "Well, we love you more." I responded, looking down at my stomach as he laid his hand gently on top of it.

He gave me a forehead kiss as he rubbed my stomach softly and knelt down to give it a kiss. He was adorable.

"Want to get back to the party? Or we could go home, whatever you want, my love." he offered. I shook my head.

"Let’s stay a bit, then we can tell everyone another time this week." I suggested, earning a nod from Jeremiah.

As we exited the bathroom, we did just that. We stayed long enough to see Belly blow out her candles. I suddenly felt tired and nauseous and called it quits, so we went back home to our apartment.

We told our families and prepared over the next few months for our baby’s arrival. Everyone was extremely excited. We chose not to find out the gender till birth, and I’m so glad we did.

Elliana Susannah Fisher was born on February 20th at 1:24pm. She was perfect in every way, and had every feature of mine and Jere’s that made us fall in love with the parts we were most insecure about. Jeremiah also made the perfect girl dad, spending every minute he could with her. I was in love with our family, every single part about it.

author’s note - SO CUTEEEEE lol, sorry for the inactivity but ive been so busy. ALSO BELLYJERE IN PARISSSSS WOOT WOOT!!! im so excited for s3 omg

- j

[leillaaaa]

Umm stupid thingy i wrote for that one tbhk chapter where teru had dinner with his family (in the pov of teru like those tiktok slideshow thingies)

The day of her burial blurred together, washed away by the heavy rain which beat down upon her coffin. It was the first time I had seen my father waver. He's always been a stern man.

And yet, that stormy afternoon ... he broke. He whispered sweet nothings to her corpse, sighs of remorse and love tarnished by many bitter years of marriage. 'I am eternally grateful to have stumbled upon you in this life,' he had shakily entrusted to the soil that consumed her.

My relatives softly sobbed their goodbyes, and yet ... me, her son, her eldest son, did not shed a single tear.

There is something wrong with me.

I realized it, then.

Why was I not crying? I should have. I should have mourned for the mother who would never see the husk her son had become. Mourned like my father, who knelt beside her coffin, knees coated in mud.

My mother was dead, and I felt nothing.

That's not normal, is it? I'll never be normal.

I'll never come home from school to the aroma of warm food wafting from the kitchen, or look into the crowd at graduation and see my parents there, smiling proudly. To have a proper birthday party, for once ...

I don't think she loved me, exactly.

I looked like her, but I've always been much too similar to him. She must've seen it in my laugh, a golden staff gripped tightly in my hands, eyes sharp and void and nothing.

She didn't hate me, but ... it wasn't like she loved me, either.

I don't blame her. Kou and Tiara are much easier to love.

My mother is in front of me. There's a sweet, lively smile upon her face, the one I've always longed for. The one a mother is meant to give to her son after a long day at school. And still ... she isn't mine.

This isn't mine.

I sit at the table, swallowing the bile forcing its way up my throat. The chair's legs softly groan against the hardwood floor, barely audible over Kou's laugh.

He grins widely, the table alight with smiles and laughter and friendly conversation.

I don't belong here.

Her smile is as bright as the sun, as warm as a midsummer day. Tiara copies her table manners, poking at her food as politely as possible. Her golden hair is neater than usual, carefully woven into two pigtails. It suits her.

She deserves to have a mother who can braid her hair.

I'm sure it's her work. Kou has never done it like that - he's always in a hurry, though he never forfeits time to tend to Tiara. If only I could've been the one to lift that burden from his shoulders.

He seems lighter than ever. Flushed cheeks, ruffled hair, a grin plastered unto his face - this is how he should be.

They're so ... normal. They're normal. I'm normal. I'm ... normal.

Why am I relieved?

I stole this from him.

My smile still persists. It persists in this stolen life. The one stolen from the boy who deserved it.

My plate is warm. Usually, by the time I get home, it's ice cold. Kou always leaves a spot for me at the table anyways, but ... my mother has never looked upon me with such warmth. Have I - has this Teru - has he not committed my sin, the sin my mother had placed upon me? The sin of myself? The burden, the curse of the title, "Eldest Son?"

Even so, I'm still me. I can't escape that.

No matter what, I'll always be wrong. I'm not made for a life like this. One of carefree laughter and warm food and love.

A frown in a sea of smiles.

I'm the rotten apple of this perfect family dinner.

Because I don't belong here.

I don't belong here.

Right. This isn't my place. This isn't my plate. This isn't my Kou. This isn't my Mother.

This isn't my family.

I can't ruin it for these perfect Minamotos.

Perfect Minamotos.

I never thought I'd say that.

I'm so selfish.

Why do I long to stay? Stay where everything is right?

But this isn't right. This is abandoning my family. This is abandoning myself. This is-

"Are you okay?"

Are you okay?

How long has it been since I've heard those words?

Why am I crying? It's just a question. Why do I cry now, only when it's the wrong thing to do?

Ah. It seems like I've ruined it somehow, after all.

Because I am Teru Minamoto.

And this is the burden I must bear.

[helpmeimblorboing]

In the Mahabharata, the one time Krishna ever comes close to breaking his vow of peace was when Bheeshma came close to killing Arjuna ( who was, mind you, a warrior, and therefore probably fully expected to at least come close to death, if not die himself)

Let me repeat that : God himself, epitome of Honor and goodness and nobility, was willing to kill someone after swearing that he wouldn’t, because that person came close to killing Arjuna

Something tells me he wouldn’t have done that for any other Pandava. I know he wouldn’t, in fact, because he didn’t give a shit when Abhimanyu died

When Krishna greeted the Pandavas , he greeted Yudhistira and Bhima as elders (correct me if I’m wrong), and Nakula and Sahadeva as juniors, but Arjuna ? Arjuna he embraced as an equal

He does not do this to anyone else. Throughout all of Kurukshetra (again, correct me if I’m wrong), save for Arjun, there is not a single person he greets as an equal, save maybe his own brother

Later on, he even mentions that out of the Yadavas, the Pandavas and all his devotees, Arjuna is the dearest to his heart

Let me repeat that, he sees Arjuna as closer to him than his family. Closer than his devotees. Closer even than his own wives

That’s not very platonic of him

Arjuna, meanwhile ? He sees Krishna as his god, his master. Sees himself as his slave. Now, for those of you who’ve read the Bhagavad Gita, remind me again what it defines love, real love, as ?

That’s right. Service. And who gave the Gita ? Yup. Krishna

In fact, the book straight up says he surrendered himself to Krishna - without knowing his true form, mind you

B.G 2.7 :

“Now I am confused about my duty and have lost all composure because of miserly weakness. In this condition I am asking You to tell me for certain what is best for me. Now I am Your disciple, and a soul surrendered unto You. Please instruct me.”

B.G. 11.42-42

“Thinking of You as my friend, I have rashly addressed You “O Kṛṣṇa,” “O Yādava,” “O my friend,” not knowing Your glories. Please forgive whatever I may have done in madness or in love. I have dishonored You many times, jesting as we relaxed, lay on the same bed, or sat or ate together, sometimes alone and sometimes in front of many friends. O infallible one, please excuse me for all those offenses.”

In some circles, Arjuna is considered so equal to Krishna that he is seen as yet another avatar of Krishna - literally the same person, reincarnated into two shapes

When Agni, the god of fire, chose to grant Krishna a boon, out of everything he could have had, he asked that his “friendship” towards Arjuna never decrease

“Then Vasudeva asked that his friendship with Arjuna might be eternal. The chief of the celestials granted unto the intelligent Krishna the boon he desired”

In fact, quoting Krishna directly, he straight-up says at one point

“

"Thou art mine and I am thine, while all that is mine is thine also! He that hateth thee hateth me as well, and he that followeth thee followeth me! O thou irrepressible one, thou art Nara and I am Narayana or Hari! We are the Rishis Nara and Narayana born in the world of men for a special purpose. O Partha, thou art from me and I am from thee! O bull of the Bharata race, no one can understand the difference that is between us!"”

Later, he says to Vasudeva, his father (in fact, his very last words to him)

“Know, O father, that I am Arjuna and Arjuna is myself.”

The very last thing God himself thought about in his human shape was Arjuna. That seems like a bit excessive for a mere friendship, doesn’t it ?

When Krishna leaves Arjuna for Dwarka, the book says

“Vaisampayana said, 'As he of Vrishni's race was proceeding to Dwaraka, those foremost princes of Bharata's race, those chastisers of foes embraced him and fell back with their attendants. Phalguna repeatedly embraced the Vrishni hero, and as long as he was within the range of vision, he repeatedly turned his eyes towards him. With great difficulty, the son of Pritha withdrew his gaze that had fallen on Govinda. The unvanquished Krishna also (did the same).”

He also said the following. Notably, the implication is that without Arjuna, Krishna, lord of the Three Realms, could not find any enjoyment in any of them

“O lord of the earth! For Arjuna’s sake, I can slice off and give my own flesh. This tiger among men will also lay down his life for my sake.

O father! This is our understanding, that we will protect each other”

And you expect me to believe that they were “just friends” ??? We know that Krishna is at the very least bisexual (He married Aravan, after all). Who’s to say Arjuna wasn’t too ?

It’s not even subtext at this point. It’s just text. Plain goddamn text

[cadmium-bear]

Coming out sorta?

Wednesday wasn’t one for physical affection. Yet there’s one exception. Enid could freely touch her whenever she wanted. Their shoulders and arms brush while they walk on school grounds. Enid can put her arm around the goth and leave unscathed. Yoko, whether out of curiosity or just being dumb, barely got a ruler’s length close and was threatened with being force fed garlic.

“Wednesday?” Enid called as she positioned herself between Wednesday and the book she was reading. This wasn’t the first time the werewolf invaded her personal space while she was reading on her bed. Enid had already wrapped her arms around Wednesday and laid her head on the psychic’s chest to listen to her surprisingly undead heartbeat.

“Enid? What’s wrong?” Wednesday put her book down. It’s not uncommon for Enid to be clingy but she ought to ask just in case.

“Just tired.” Enid looked up at the shorter girl. “Is this okay?”

“Yes.” Wednesday stroked Enid’s back with one hand and her hair with the other, guiding her head back unto her chest.

Enid sighed comfortably. “Wednesday, why are you nicer to me?”

“Where did you pick up that I’m nice to anyone else?” Wednesday raised an eyebrow. “It’s because I like you.”

Enid froze but she quickly rebooted her brain. Surely she couldn’t mean it like that she thought. “Right. As a friend.”

“No. As more than a friend.” Wednesday casually said like she was stating a fact.

Enid raised her head to look Wednesday straight in the eyes. Not to say the feeling was unreciprocated. But she was always the one chasing. Always the one pleasing others. Her self doubt made her question things. Just to be sure she had to ask. “Wednesday, are you gay?”

The girl underneath shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t find myself attracted to other girls. Or other boys. I just know that I like you.”

Enid couldn’t see how red her face has become. Her best friend came out-sort of- to her. And she indeed had romantic feelings for her. She couldn’t help but smile.

“Honestly, I am still trying to figure out this whole… feelings thing.” Wednesday moves her hand to cup Enid’s cheek. “But if it’s you. I want to try. I want to court you the way you deserve…. If you’ll have me.” She whispered the last part suddenly losing her confidence.

Enid noticed it and didn’t want any misunderstanding between them. She placed her own hand on top of Wednesday’s. “I would like that.” Enid moved closer until their faces were inches apart. She hesitated not sure if this would be too much for the other girl. But Wednesday made no move to stop her and only closed her eyes.

Enid took the initiative and finally kissed Wednesday. It was shy and quick. Oh it was too quick. Wednesday thought so too. This time, she kissed Enid. Deeper and longer this time. One hand reached for Enid’s cheek and other supported the back of her neck. Enid placed one hand on Wednesday’s shoulder and the other clutched at her jacket as if pulling her closer.

Their kiss that started shy and short grew long and desperate. Like they were searching for each other all this time. It wasn’t grand or felt like fireworks. It was warm and comfortable. They both thought that they should’ve done this a long time ago.

When they finally pulled away to breathe, they were still impossibly close to each other. Rather than air, it was like they were breathing in each other.

“Just so we’re clear,” Enid pulled away to look at her new girlfriend properly. “I like you too.”

Wednesday laughed and pulled her girlfriend in for another kiss.

[whitelilynh]

Strange how different my views from Naruto and Jjk are (well, not so if we consider how many years apart, and overall my own age and maturity related to it, watching one as a tween/teenager and the other as an adult), but the latter has helped me understand a different view on the former, far from youthful idealism.

What comes clear now is that being strong comes with a heavy burden, and both systems won't care about individuals but about preserving a status quo.

Whether the system is right or wrong, the higher ups only care about keeping it that way. It might be disguised under the cover of "stability", but goes deeper in privileges, comfort and unwillingness. Even if it's labeled as 'the greater good', that's in fact parcial; while it is good for the higher ups, it's rather mediocre for the rest.

Yes, it keeps a certain stability or balance, in the ways of preserving what's known, but in exchange for the sacrifice of the individuals; their lives, emotional wellbeing, bonds and ultimately their humanity, seeing them as mere tools.

And the strong ones carry the biggest burden. In the likes of Sasuke and Geto, forcing those that feel for the bond and care more about the individuals than the system, to unorthodox methods and eventually being villains; or the likes of Itachi and Gojo, manipulated to willingly let go of their own humanity and become just weapons, taking unto themselves, and only them, the responsibility of saving the day.

Even when Gojo saw the system as it was, he couldn't escape it even after his death.

And then, Sasuke, Geto, Gojo... Those who see the reality of the system and want to change it (not talking about the righteousness of their methods) are labelled as selfish, narcissistic, evil... With Sasuke as the pinnacle of being shamed and guilt tripped into the propaganda via Naruto's TnJ.

While Jjk in their more cynical ways addresses the issue directly (for example, Geto dies clinging to his ideals, so as Gojo does), Naruto disappointingly hides the truth and sells the viewer the system's propaganda, successfully must I add, with Naruto himself embodying the continuity of the system to the extreme; let's not ignore how he forgot about his thousand promises of how he'd change things 'when he's Hokage' and ultimately became what he once criticised, all under the cover of righteousness the series/system sells all along.

So all in all, a new introspection needs to be done for me as a viewer, further than surface. Is it worthy to be 'the strongest'? Does the end justify the means (i.e. utilising humans as tools)?

I think not, I think not.

[starzzmissthesun]

ok guys, not to yap again, but i really want to talk about strangers by ethel cain, and more specifically the line "If I'm turning in your stomach, am I making you feel sick?". I think this line can be two sides of the same coin; one side is resentful and angry, the other self sacrificial and insecure. Ethel was put through horrible trauma by her father, I think she sees the parallel between what both of these men did to her. It's the betrayal and how they both thought they could use her and her body how ever they want, both using their power over her(the dad's authority and her idolization of him, Isaiah using drugs). When she says "If I'm turning in your stomach," she's means to turn in your grave, her body is now one with Isaiah's and that is her grave. She is unhappy with how she was used, especially when she believed she loved him (she was manipulated and drugged, even in death she still struggles with understanding what really happened). But that line also refers to the dread and anxiety you feel when you're guilty, a pit in your stomach, something doesn't sit right. When she asks "Am I making you feel sick?" She is hoping and begging over and over to know if he is guilty, if he is ashamed of what he has done. To know if, maybe, her father and all the other men who have wronged her also get sick with themselves over the guilt. This brings me to the next way this could be interpreted, which is Ethel's need to be good and righteous, so selflessly, for the people she 'loves'. In this way of thinking, she couldn't bear making somebody feel bad because of her--> never being able to blame and completely resent those who hurt her. She just wants to know if she is good, in many Christian denominations (i was brought up catholic, so tell me if im wrong) you are always comiting some kind of sin. She also talks a lot about how the sins of her fathers are now placed unto her, is she stained. It's kind of like the idea of the original sin, something your ancestors did that have stained the bloodline. It's also the belief that, when one has no guilt given unto them by God, the act was his will "if it's meant to be then it will be, and i forgive it all as it comes back to me" but maybe she worries that, if it was right, if he has no guilt, then she deserved it. i really suggest watching ep. 5 of midnight mass to get what i mean, more about that kind of belief. She was placed with this feeling of deservedness due to her family tree, but is she really that bad? Even while he is eating her, does she taste good? Does he feel sick? Was it worth her life?