#is definitely newsworthy

[edennill-archived]

We laugh at Sauron for not realising a golden-haired Aman elf with the audacity to challenge a fallen Maia with song can only be Finrod at this point, and conclude that Finrod's spell must have worked in part -- but I've never heard anyone ask how on earth did he never come up with the idea that Celebrimbor might have given the three rings to his three remaining family members!

Who made the spell this time?

[worstgirl-online]

did not get kissed so im [REDACTED]

[mayfly-maycry]

It’s a simple process, really; you walk up to the console, enter a number, and either the microchip implanted in your body at birth immediately kills you or a little slot underneath the screen pops out a wad of cash and you move on with your life.

The lines were long, so you had plenty of time to people watch. Most people walked away with nothing; anything short of 90% chance of sudden death wouldn’t get you any money, and less than $1000 was just not worth it, even for teenagers who thought they were invincible. Only a few people actually took the risk. You could tell which ones they were by how they tensed right before hitting the confirmation button at the bottom of the screen. And then went entirely limp as they crumpled to the ground, losing their gamble. Not one of them got their money.

As the person in front of you stepped up to the console, you idly wondered if the cash slots still worked, or if they had rusted closed from disuse. Or maybe there never even was any money in there.

And suddenly, it was your turn. You stepped up to the console, palms slightly sweaty. Of course, you had no intention of taking any chances, but it was still a little nerve-wracking to be only one typo away from death. There was a fingerprint scanner and a small number pad underneath the screen, which was black with three large words printed across it in white: "ENTER YOUR NUMBER."

You swallowed, scanned your thumb on the scanner, and used the number pad to do just that: 0. Just to be safe, you entered a few more 0's, a period, and some more 0's. Wouldn't want something weird to happen with unfilled digits. You hit the "enter" key on the number pad and held your breath.

The console's message changed: "CALCULATING REWARD..." It would come out to 0, then announce that you were free to--

The screen suddenly went blue, and from the sounds of protest from the people around you, yours wasn't the only one. As the technicians -- who were really just there to tote out the corpses of the foolish -- worked their way through the crowd, white text appeared on the screen:

Error on line 15:

Illegal operation: divide by 0

When a technician finally reached your side, he took one look at the console and cursed. "God dammit, who's the asshole who put in 0?!"

"Um... that may have been me," you admit sheepishly. You had no idea what was going on; of the hundreds of teenagers at the consoles before you who had also refused to risk death, not one of them had broken the machine, but somehow you had?

The technician shot you a disparaging look as he pulled a foldable keyboard out of his pocket and plugged it into a port hidden on the side of the console. "Seriously? Couldn't you have just jumped off of a building like a normal person? You didn't have to come in here and break our machine..."

The technician started tapping away at his keyboard, still grumbling, while your brain worked furiously to figure out what he was talking about. Why would he think you were suicidal for entering 0? You entered 0 because you wanted 0% chance of death--

Your heart skipped a beat as you realized. The number the machine wanted wasn't chance of death -- you were supposed to tell it your chance of life. Every person ahead of you who had made the same choice had entered 100%; you, on the other hand, had asked the machine for certain death.

In a daze, you watched the console screen as the technician worked. Instead of its usual simple, almost menacing black interface, it now displayed the rolling hills of a version of Windows older than you were with a terminal window pulled up in the corner. You didn't know much about coding, but you suspected that the mere 20 lines of code pulled up in the terminal were the entirety of what ran the machine.

The technician groaned. "Are you kidding me?! Why does it decide the money before it even decides if the person is going to live to see it?! And there's not any kind of error handling! How has it taken this long for the machine to break? I'd heard that it was shitty, but I didn't think it was this bad!"

You barely understood a word of what he said, but you did get the important part: you had asked the machine for certain death and been spared by a technical error. With a few more key presses on the technician's keyboard, the console returned to its original screen. The technician folded his keyboard away and turned to go.

"Wait...!" you called after him. "What should I do?"

The technician sighed and turned around. "Well, you can't use the console again -- the machine already marked your fingerprints as used," he told you. "At least there's an actual database hooked up to this thing so we didn't lose everything when it crashed," he added under his breath. The technician returned to his normal volume. "You're not getting any money, if that's what you're asking. Just be grateful you still have your life and get out of here."

His expression softened. "And, maybe take it as a new lease on life?" He put a hand on your shoulder. "I promise you, kid, life can be tough, but it's almost always worth living. Don't forget that, okay?" He awkwardly pat your shoulder before walking back to his post at the edge of the room.

You took his advice and left the room, truly grateful to be breathing in a way that, suicidal or not, you never had been before.

At 18 everyone must go to “the machine” and choose a percent that represents the odds the machine will not euthanize you. Those who live are granted 1000/(x^5) dollars. You confuse the meaning of the numbers and become the first person to ever put 0, but when the machine activates, you survive.

[jacquelineadelia]

Leftist Tumblr sure has a real conspiracism problem, huh

[hasgavlebockenburneddownyet]

They honestly should just officially burn the goat at the end of the season. Then people could enjoy it while it's up, with the promise that it Will Burn eventually.

They're really having to walk the line between acknowledging that the only reason why it is so famous is because it gets burned, and like keeping the face that they don't want it to burn. Like comparatively i don't think it would be newsworthy anymore if they intentionally burned it, although definitely safer. What they have been doing the past few years is up the security a lot, which I guess has worked, but similarly if it survives too many years in a row i think people would also lose interest.

[rileyslibrary]

The elderly lady who owns the convenience store in Simon’s neighbourhood needs help with a faulty fridge. You tag along with Simon and discover more about him than you ever expected.

A/N: Fluff. Cosy read.

———————————————————————

“It’s right there,” Simon says, pointing down the street. “Just need to take care of something quickly.”

You follow his outstretched arm to a convenience store nestled on the corner. Furrowing your brows, you glance back at the street you had just walked down, spotting Simon’s house. It’s very close, you think to yourself. Maybe a three-minute walk away.

That’s weird. You’ve taken that same road to and from Simon’s house many times, yet this is the first time you’ve noticed the store.

Turning your attention back, you look closer at your destination. No wonder you never paid much attention to it. The store seems old and rather inconspicuous, blending into its surroundings seamlessly. Everything is understated, from the building to its decor—if you could even call it that. To the left of the entrance, there’s a stand of old magazines, and on the right, a table with two chairs catches your eye. You glance up at the sign above the entrance.

“Mary Mart,” you read aloud.

“That’s right,” Simon confirms, opening the door and triggering a bell to jingle. “Mary should be inside.”

He holds the door open for you, yet his gaze remains fixed on something inside the store. You step in and follow his line of sight to a lady holding a newspaper up to her face. That must be Mary, you presume.

“You alright, Mary?” Simon asks softly.

Yup, that’s definitely her. The newspaper covers most of Mary’s petite frame as she sits behind the counter. She seems so absorbed by her reading that she didn’t hear you come in.

Simon sighs and shakes his head. He gently taps the back of the newspaper to get her attention. Mary lowers the paper to her nose, and her face lights up immediately at the sight of Simon.

“Didn’t see you there!” Mary shouts, lowering the newspaper to the counter. “You alright, my dear?”

“Yes, Mary,” he murmurs, “neither did you see nor hear us.”

“What?” Mary asks, letting go of the newspaper and cupping her ear.

Simon taps his own ear, indicating that Mary needs to adjust her earpiece. Mary’s eyes widen, and she quickly follows Simon’s lead, turning her earpiece on. She gives him a nod.

“Better now?” Simon asks.

“Much, much better,” Mary confirms, then turns to you with a broader smile. “And who do we have here?”

You politely nod, introducing yourself to Mary, but Simon interjects before you say much.

“So tell me, Mary,” He says, glancing towards the back of the store where the fridges are, “which one’s acting up?”

“Oh, I can’t remember, dear, but it’s hard to miss it,” Mary replies, sighing. “It’s the one with the towels underneath. Keeps dripping water.”

Simon nods, his gaze still focused on the fridges. He begins heading towards the back of the store, and you instinctively follow behind him.

“How lovely of you, Simon,” Mary’s voice sounds from behind you. “Bringing me some company while you take care of that fridge.”

You stop in your tracks, and Simon does, too. Point taken, Mary. You glance towards Simon, and he gives you a nod.

“She’s harmless,” he whispers, brushing your hair back. “And a pretty nice lady.”

“Don’t be long.” You whisper back. “We still need to go get some breakfast.”

Simon nods and continues to the back of the store. With a sigh, you return to the counter where Mary is and settle into a nearby chair.

“Anything newsworthy?” You ask.

“Nothing much, dear,” Mary replies, adjusting her newspaper. “The weather’s terrible, the economy’s getting worse, and people won’t stop killing each other.”

“Oh...” you murmur, “yeah, that’s bad.”

“Well, at least Boots has 20% off on all moisturizers,” she announces, slightly more enthusiastically than one might expect for moisturizers. She picks a pair of scissors from under the counter and starts snipping the voucher.

With Mary on a mission to get that 20% off of that newspaper, you take the opportunity to peek at Simon. He’s kneeling in front of the fridge at the back of the store, focused on the appliance. Occasionally, his brow slightly furrows as he inspects the faulty machine. Then he pauses, nods, and grabs tools or shifts his position to get a better look at it. You, on the other hand, have no idea what he’s doing, nor do you care. You are hungry and caffeine-deprived. You’re pretty sure Simon feels the same way.

Meanwhile, Mary has finished cutting through the voucher and returned to her reading. She often flips through the pages and snaps the newspaper to straighten it and remove wrinkles. Sometimes, she hums, acknowledging her current read. Other times, she clicks her tongue disapprovingly at whatever news she comes across.

And you? Well, you’re bored out of your mind, so you begin scanning the shelves and displays, taking in the assortment of merchandise neatly arranged throughout the store. Your eyes briefly pause on various items—a stack of magazines, a display of snacks, a row of household essentials—before finally settling on an old photograph hanging behind Mary.

In the photograph, a young man wearing a military uniform stands confidently. He appears to be in his late twenties and sports a well-kept moustache. Rather than looking straight ahead, his gaze seems to be directed right behind you. He looks confident. Strong. He feels present, even if he’s not here.

“Handsome, huh?” Mary asks, peering over her glasses before turning towards the picture behind her. “That’s my Walter right there.”

You clear your throat and nod. “Very handsome indeed,” you confirm. “Is he your husband?”

“Was,” Mary corrects with a wistful smile, her eyes drifting back to you. “My very first and last one.”

“Which war?” you ask, gesturing towards his uniform.

“You mean which war he served in or which war he died in?”

“Both,” you shrug.

“Served in too many,” she says proudly, lowering her gaze to her newspaper. “But the war my Walter lost had no guns or weapons.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

Mary looks up from her newspaper, meeting your eyes with a tilt of her head and a warm smile.

“Coffee?” she offers but doesn’t let you respond. She has already turned her back to you, brewing a fresh pot.

“No, thank you,” you reply. “We intend to grab some on our way to breakf-”

“I don’t think Simon will finish anytime soon, dear,” she interjects.

“Then yes, please,” you reply, then mouth a silent ‘shit’ to yourself so that Mary doesn’t hear you. You peek once more at the back of the store where Simon is.

“He’s handsome as well, isn’t he?” Mary states, with her back still turned towards you.

You blush at Mary’s observation and look down at the gum assortment in front of the counter. “Yes,” you agree, nodding with a smile. “Yes, he is.”

“Met at the base?” She asks, pouring you a cup of coffee.

“You know where we work?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“It takes one to know one, dear,” she says, turning towards you and handing you a cup of coffee. “Milk? Sugar?”

“No, thanks,” you reply. “So you also served in the military?”

Mary’s expression shifts, her face lighting up as she lifts her index finger.

“Serve!” she exclaims, “Silly me; I forgot to serve the biscuits!”

She retrieves a plate covered with tin foil from below the counter and uncovers it, pushing the platter towards you. You politely decline, thanking her for the offer. But Mary insists.

“I made them myself,” she tells you warmly.

“And I’m sure they taste lovely, but-”

“Take the biscuit,” Mary commands sternly, yet still smiling.

You look up at her, and without looking back at the plate, you take a biscuit. You don’t know which one you picked, what flavour it is, or if there are any allergens in it. Mary’s assertiveness is enough to make you pop it right into your mouth.

Her smile widens. “Good?” she asks.

The biscuit is indeed good. Very good. But even if it weren’t, you wouldn’t dare say otherwise—not only out of respect for Mary’s age but also because something tells you she might have more experience than the convenience store owner she portrays herself to be.

“They are amazing, Mary,” you reply and swallow.

“Simon likes those too,” she states proudly. “I often bring some over when I bake them.”

“So you live nearby?” You ask, swallowing another bite of the biscuit.

“I’m his landlord,” Mary reveals, nudging the plate of biscuits closer to you, “help yourself to another.”

You oblige and take another biscuit, and Mary continues once you take a bite.

“So,” she begins, blowing the steam off her coffee, “I’ve seen you plenty of times in my neighbourhood.”

“I, um,” you lift one shoulder and idly pick up a pack of chewing gum from the assortment in front of you. “I do come by often.”

“I know,” she replies, sipping her coffee. “You’ve been passing by my store a lot lately.”

You subtly turn your head towards Simon’s direction, letting your hair fall to the side of your face to conceal your blushing cheeks from Mary’s view. Yet she doesn’t seem to let go.

“He’s a good lad,” Mary states. Always there when neighbours need him, ready to lend a hand.”

“Indeed, he’s very good with his hands.” You reply.

“You know best, my dear,” Mary remarks, smirking.

“I meant with fixing things!” You say, widening your eyes. “He’s good with his hands when it comes to fixing things!”

Mary chuckles knowingly. “He’s also quite popular with the ladies—both the single and the taken ones,” she continues.

“Oh, is he now?” You respond in a high-pitched voice, narrowing your eyes. You turn your body towards Mary, placing the chewing gum package back in its original position.

“Yes,” she confirms, leaning over the counter. “Simon never rejects the attention, being such a good-looking lad, but at the same time, he never reciprocates.”

“How do you know he doesn’t reciprocate?”

“Oh, you’d be impressed what people say in front of an old lady who, allegedly, forgets to switch her earpiece on.” She says, winking at you.

“So, women flirt with him, huh?”

Mary throws her head back and chuckles, flicking her wrist at you. “Oh please, my dear,” she says in between chuckles, “I would have practically done the same if I was fifty years younger and Walter wasn’t around.”

“And he doesn’t flirt back?” You ask.

“No, not really, but he used to be friendly with them.” She explains, tilting her head toward you. “And then something changed.”

You shift in your seat and lean forward. “What?” You ask, intrigued. “What changed?”

Mary leans closer, sliding the biscuit platter toward you.

“Mary, I should probably lay off the biscuits,” you say. “We’re supposed to be heading out for breakfast, remember?”

“Make it a brunch, dear, or whatever you young people call it nowadays,” she replies. “Simon won’t be fixing the fridge anytime soon.”

“How do you know?” you ask. “You just said he’s great at fixing things.”

“Not when there’s nothing wrong with the fridge in the first place.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, furrowing your brows.

“I detached the defrost drain to simulate water leakage,” she explains. “It’s an easy fix, but you can oversee it quite easily, especially when the fridge is as old as I am.”

“You tinkered with the fridge on purpose?” you ask, eyes wide with surprise. “Why?”

“Oh please,” she sighs, rolling her eyes, “I had to bring you both here somehow.”

You glance at the cookie platter. Understanding that you won’t get any more information from Mary unless you indulge, you grab another cookie and pop it into your mouth. Mary, the ‘insert-biscuit-here-to-continue’ lady, takes the cue and continues.

“And then, as I was saying, you began to visit more often,” she explains, glancing over at Simon. “And his reaction to all the attention shifted.”

“You need to elaborate a little bit more, Mary,” you press. “How exactly did it change?”

“Girlfriend!” she exclaims in a hushed tone, widening her eyes at you. “He says he has a girlfriend!”

You widen your eyes, just like her, and point at yourself. She nods and points back at you.

“And then there’s the toothbrush,” she continues. “He bought two! A green one and a pink one.”

“He gave me a pink toothbrush when I stayed over for the first time!” you whisper. “Said he’d bought it ages ago and forgotten about it!”

“He bought a pink toothbrush as a spare for himself?” She asks, and her eyes narrow. “Nonsense! It wasn’t too long ago, and I have the receipts.”

“You keep receipts for these things, Mary?”

“No, silly,” she shakes her head. “It’s for tax purposes.”

“Right, so, I’m the girlfriend apparently,” you murmur, massaging your temples. “But why are you telling me all this?”

“Simon isn’t much of a talker, dear,” Mary explains, her tone softening. “Not to mention the horrors he’s been through. Sometimes, you might even misunderstand him because of it. But I’ve known him for a long time. He’s like family to me. Sometimes, when words fail him, I feel the need to speak on his behalf.”

“So you’re looking out for him,” you conclude, slowly nodding.

“Like the child I never had,” Mary confirms with a warm smile, pouring another cup of coffee. “And I can see how much he cares about you. But he’s not always good at expressing it. That’s why I thought I’d give you a little hint.”

“Thank you, Mary,” you say. “I appreciate you looking out for us.”

“It’s my pleasure,” she says, handing you the extra coffee. “Now, how about you go over there and tell Simon to take a break? You can use the chairs outside while I go and reattach the defrost drain to the fridge.”

“Sure thing,” you reply and grab the coffee. “I just have one more question.”

“Go ahead,” she says.

“If Simon asks me what we’ve been talking about, what should I tell him?”

“Tell him I was rambling about the weather, the economy, and the 20% voucher from Boots,” she suggests, winking. “You’re a smart girl; that’s why he picked you. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

———————————————————————

[fiddleyoumust]

Let’s talk about queerness and High School Frenemy. There’s a large portion of BL fandom that refuses to engage with the show, and while that rubs me the wrong way, I do understand it. If you only wish to consume queer media, it’s easy to dismiss HSF since it is not explicitly queer. It’s also a show that on a surface level, looks like classic queerbaiting. And before I get a bunch of HSF fans in the tags or comments, I am a huge fan of this show. It is possibly the best thing I’ve watched all year. But on a surface level, it is doing the literal definition of queerbaiting even if I personally do not think it is. 

As a person who is OLD and came of age in the 90s, I do want to talk about this show from a queer perspective. I grew up in a time when queer characters were not abundant. If they did show up in media, it was newsworthy. These characters were always support characters and seldom had love interests or explored what it was like to be queer. None of them looked like me or made me feel seen or represented. Heteronormativity was the standard, as it is today, but back then, a queer kid seldom encountered anything that made them question that heteronormativity. 

HSF, and Shin and Saint specifically, resonate with me more than most queer media I’ve consumed, and I’ve consumed a lot. The intense, obsessive love that Shin and Saint have for each other under the guise of friendship IS my story. For me, it was a wild girl named Jennifer, who I was attached to the hip with from 6th grade until our early twenties. I loved her. I was obsessed with her. I was probably in love with her, but it never occurred to me until years after we’d stopped speaking that what I felt for her was more than friendship. The heteronormative brainworms are real, and they infected me until my late 20s when I suddenly had a revelation about myself. 

Hindsight is 20/20. Suddenly, my obsession with Charlize Theron in Two Days In The Valley, Helen Hunt in Twister (1996), and Kate Winslet in Titanic made so much sense. My relationship with Jennifer was also at the forefront of my mind. Ah, I thought. That’s what that was.

HSF is a show about friendship, a show about community, a show about the ways adults fail their children, a show about class and poverty. It is also a show about unrealized queerness. The director, Fon, told that story purposefully through music, lighting, and dialogue, she told a story about two boys who can’t live without each other, but don’t have the knowledge, the vocabulary, or the self-awareness to understand what they are to each other.

In every choice Fon made, she dangled queerness without explicitly naming it. I would call it queerbaiting in any other media,  but for me, she made one other choice that I believe is purposeful and elevates this show into the queer category for me. She completely stripped the show of heteronormativity. There are no couples. None. We never see Chatjen’s parents. Any parents we do see are single - Ken’s father, Shin’s mother, Saint’s father, Cable’s mother.

In any other media, the male and female homeroom teachers with clashing teaching styles would  be an enemies-to-lovers side plot. Here, they grow into supportive co-workers and friends who become better versions of themselves to help the children in their class. In any other media, there would be talk of crushes among the teenagers. Here, we see them grapple with the pressures of academia, abusive or absentee parents, bullying, drugs, and the hopelessness of poverty. In fact, the only mention of sexuality or romance at all comes from Eve, a girl who befriends Airy, a girl from their rival school, and confesses that she had a crush on her when she was younger. Nothing comes of this revelation, even though we see Airy become curious and seek out Eve’s company prior to this revelation, and we see how pleased Airy is about Eve’s confession. But this is a show about unrealized queerness and even Eve and Airy, two girls who understand what they are feeling for one another, still can’t bring themselves to name it.

The lack of heterosexuality creates a void that is filled by Shin and Saint’s relationship. It’s purposeful, and Director Fon uses other friendships in the show to highlight the ways Shin and Saint are not the same. Knot, Nate, and Ken are extremely close friends. They, too, have a “no one left behind” friendship pact. They fight for each other and get hurt for each other and very obviously love each other. Chatjen and Shin’s friendship is also very deep. Chatjen considers Shin his best friend. He hero worships him a bit and sees him as his protector and savior. Yet, anyone watching can understand the ways the producers use music, lighting, costuming, and dialogue to elevate Shin and Saint’s relationship above all the other ones. 

High School Frenemy is queer. Shin and Saint are purposefully queer coded in a world devoid of heterosexuality. You are seeing what you are supposed to see, and it's a hill I’ll die on. If you were on the fence about this show, I can not recommend it enough. It’s great and will leave you feeling warm and happy and loved. If you only consume explicitly queer media, I still encourage you to watch it. Sometimes, our queerness eludes us. Sometimes it’s hidden under other words like “friendship” because we haven’t learned the right words for it yet. I enjoyed watching a show that reminded me of my youth and gave me a glimpse of the girl I used to be. She was still queer even if she didn't know it yet.

[softspiderling]

illicit affairs - part seven | r.c

summary:

The shower was still raining down on you, and if the both of you weren’t buck ass naked, this would probably be incredibly romantic and you’d consider just spilling your guts to him. You exhaled deeply, blinking the water drops out of your lashes. What Rafe said made sense. But were you ready to give up more of him, just because you couldn’t keep your feelings in check?

“So? Are we putting a stop to this?”

OR; You deal with an intruder, lose your temper and Rafe and you take a shower.

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: SMUT! 18+ only! (oral male/female receiving)

word count: 2,6k

author's note: long awaited im guessing HAHAHAH i hope you have survived so far. finally introducing the third character of this series.... you all know him. as usual, happy reading and i look forward to hearing about your thoughts <3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

pt. seven: "tell yourself you can always stop"

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

The “intruder” was standing shock still, the two of you staring at each other. You didn’t think that was going to hurt you or anything, but the rollling pin was still raised in the air, ready to strike any second. While you didn’t necessarily share the disdain for pogues as your friends did, it didn’t mean that you trusted him. He broke into your house after all.

JJ Maybank, possibly the definition of a pogue, was standing in your hallway, hands raised in defense as he eyed the rolling pin in your hand. He looked almost bored.

“I said, what the fuck are you doing?” you repeated, your voice strained.

“Uh, standing. What are you doing, princess?”

You let the nickname slide, glaring at him.

“Defending myself against an intruder.”

“Intruder?

JJ barked out a laugh, his hands clutching his stomach like he just heard the funniest joke in his life, though he quickly raised his hands again when you pointed the rolling pin closer at his face.

“You just broke into to my house, what are you if not an intruder?” you asked, affronted.

“I didn’t break in on purpose!”

“Oh, so you just accidentally broke into my house??”

“Hey, to be fair, you left the door unlocked.”

“Are you blaming the victim right now?”

JJ bit back a grin, his hand slowly reaching out to lower the rolling pin. You let him, but remained wary, your arms dropping to your sides.

“What are you doing here JJ?”

JJ took off his cap, running his hand through his messy hair once before putting his cap back on.

You tried to ignore that you thought he was hot.

“I was coming out of Ruby’s and trying not to be seen by anyone, thought I could hide out here for a bit,” he explained and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Ruby Evans? She has a boyfriend.”

“Yeah well that would’ve been good to know before I hooked up with her and almost got caught by said boyfriend.”

You rolled your eyes at him. Figured JJ would be caught with his hands in the cookie jar. Obviously you knew JJ, but only really on the surface. You didn’t exactly run in the same circles. But you knew that Rafe didn’t really like him, neither did Topper, but mostly because JJ was John B’s best friend. Kelce didn’t really have much of an opinion except for the fact that he thought JJ was hot, so that was that. What you did know, however, was that JJ shared the same disdain for kooks that Rafe did for pogues, so to catch JJ on the other side of the island was newsworthy.

“I’m surprised you’d get caught up with Ruby,” you said. “I thought you hated kooks.”

JJ merely shrugged, grinning at you.

“Why deprave the female population of the other side of the island of an experience with me only because of something they can’t change?”

You snorted, biting back a laugh because you knew that if he thought you thought he was funny, it was over for you. JJ took the moment to let his eyes wander over you, and you stopped yourself from wrapping the linen shirt around your exposed body. This was your house and you weren’t gonna let someone else make you feel uncomfortable. Much less a guy.

“Had a pool party?”

“Something like that,” you replied, meeting JJ’s gaze straight on. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, his boyish grin growing.

“Should I take it personally that I wasn’t invited?”

You gave him a look and JJ winked at you, before his face lit up, like he remembered something.

“Hey, your parents are organizing the spring fling, right?”

“Yes, why?” You asked back, suspicious.

“Well, I was wondering if you could do me a favor…” He started, rubbing the back of his neck. “I need some money to fix up my bike, and the country club always pays well. But the hostess kind of hates my guts, so she’d never hire me if I applied for the job. You think you could put in a good word for me?”

It was odd how JJ was able to switch from sarcastic to bashful the minute he needed something from you. You had heard from other girls that he was something of a womanizer, and the fact that he just came out of Ruby’s house just proved the point. So you tried not to put much worth on the grin he was giving you.

Most people would probably call it charming. You weren’t most people.

“… I’ll see what I can do.”

“Cool,” JJ said, honest to god pointing finger guns at you. This guy was unreal. He turned to leave the way he entered - through the patio door - but before he shut the door, he looked back to you, one foot already out of the house. “You’re not so bad for a kook, princess.”

JJ slipped through the small gap, closing the sliding door behind him. With a deep sigh, you locked the door, pulling down the blinds for good measure before you headed back to the kitchen. You put the rolling pin back in its place, shutting the dishwasher before switching it on, trying to act like that just didn’t happen.

Turning off all the lights downstairs, you headed towards the hallway, preparing to go to bed when two short raps came on the front door before it opened, as Rafe let himself in like he had been invited over. For some reason, it made you mad. You let out a sigh as you took him in and he raised a brow at you.

“You really need to lock the doors when you’re home alone precious,” Rafe commented and you snorted under your breath.

“Tell me about it.”

He shut the door behind him, locking it and you freed your hair from the claw clip, shaking your head out, feeling a migraine coming on.

“Did you really clean up the mess in the kitchen by yourself?”

“I said I would, didn’t I?”

“I would’ve helped you,” Rafe pointed out, annoyed.

“Well, you didn’t exactly tell me that you were staying over,” you retorted, just as annoyed. “Or that you were coming back.”

“Why are you being an asshole?”

Rafe’s irritation was evident in his voice and you let out a sigh.

“I’m sorry Rafe. I’m just tired, okay?” You pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling your shoulders slump a little. “If you came to fuck I don’t think I’m really in the mood today, so you can just leave. I’ll just take a shower and go to bed.”

You didn’t wait for an answer and turned to walk into your bedroom upstairs, heading straight to the bathroom. As you stripped down, throwing you bikini and the overshirt in the hamper, you thought you heard the front door shut. You tried not to let the angry tears in your eyes fall as you stepped into the shower, instead, you turned the water on, letting it drench your whole head. Fucker, you thought to yourself. You couldn’t believe that he’d just leave like that. Before all of this, he never would’ve just left.

Then again, you wouldn’t be in this situation either. Was this how it was going to be from now on?

You were so wrapped up in your thoughts, you didn’t even heat the door to the bathroom clink open. Only when the glass door of your shower squeaked, you were made aware of Rafe’s presence as he stepped inside. You really had to work on your spatial awareness. He stepped under the shower stream, the water immediately soaking him up, your eyebrows shot up in surprise and Rafe gave you a displeased look, pressing himself against your backside.

You kept quiet for a few seconds, the knot in your chest unfurling slightly, and you found yourself leaning against him.

“I thought you left.”

“You know you’re my best friend, right?”

Rafe’s voice was quiet as he murmured into your ear, his hand coming up behind you to cup around your breast. You bit back a sarcastic reply, because surely this wasn’t something a best friend would do.

“I wouldn’t just leave when I know you’re upset about something, you think you’re just a piece of ass to me?”

“I don’t know what we are these days,” you muttered, half hoping that Rafe didn’t hear you, but based on the way his hand clenched around your waist, he did hear. He turned you around in his arms, frowning down at you.

“Precious,” Rafe said, his voice tight. “You’re my best friend. Yes, the sex is fucking great, but it’s not worth losing you over. If you’re starting to question our friendship, we shouldn’t be doing this anymore.”

The shower was still raining down on you, and if the both of you weren’t buck ass naked as the day you were born, this would probably be incredibly romantic and you’d consider just spilling your guts to him. You exhaled deeply, blinking the water drops out of your lashes, trying to clear your head. What Rafe said made sense. But were you ready to give up more of him, just because you couldn’t keep your feelings in check?

“So? Are we putting a stop to this?”

Rafe took a step back. It was small, he barely moved, but to you it felt like a mile. You couldn’t go back to just being only his best friend, so before he could move away even further, you reached out to pull him back in, leaning on your tiptoes to kiss him. Rafe grunted into the kiss, seemingly hesitant for a second before he all but melted into you, his hand wrapping around your hair to tilt your head further up. You lost yourself in the kiss for a second, your hands intertwining on the nape of his neck before you pulled away when it got too heated.

“I’m too tired for sex,” you said, though you couldn’t deny the warmth unfurling between your legs.

Rafe eyed you for a second, before he nodded, turning you in his arms again, his chest against your back.

“Let me take care of you.“

With a flick of his wrist, he turned the water off, before he ran his hand down your waist, fingers slipping between your thighs. Your breath hitched, pressing further into him.

“Rafe.”

“Relax,” he murmured into the skin of your neck, tongue lapping up the water droplets that clung to your shoulder. “If you want me to stop, I will.”

His hand ventured further down, one finger dipping into the warmth of your folds and you let out a soft sigh, the stress leaving your body. You had half a mind to tell him to stop, you you found yourself saying nothing. Your hand wrapped around his bicep, searching for something to hold onto while the pad of his thumb stroked circles over your most sensitive little spot of nerves, having you moan out his name.

“That’s it,” Rafe said, leaning further down so he could slip his finger into your cunt, your gummy walls opening up to his digits, your knees growing weak. Both of you were still wet from the interrupted shower, and you should’ve been long cold by now, but all you felt was Rafe’s warm body pressed up against you and the heat coiling in your lower stomach. Rafe’s movements weren’t fast paced, but he applied pressure in just the right places, you felt your orgasm coming in no time.

“Shit,” you gasped, laying your head against his chest, catching Rafe’s eyes on you, seeing a hunger in his eyes you couldn’t quite place, but before you could question it, he kissed you, stealing your breath away. The kiss was the last thing that threw you over the edge and with a small, breathy moan you came apart on Rafe’s fingers, clinging onto him for dear life. As you caught your breath, Rafe placed his hands on your waist, steadying you.

“You good?”

You let out a grunt, squeezing his wrist. “You know the shower is one of the most dangerous places to have sex in?”

“… That doesn’t sound right.”

“Shut up,” you huffed, taking your hands off of Rafe, testing your footing, before you turned, getting on your knees.

“Hey, you don’t have to do this.”

“Didn’t I just tell you to shut up?” you asked back, wrapping your hand around his cock and Rafe let out a moan, carding his fingers through your hair. “Your dick has been pressed into my back for the past 15 minutes, let me suck you off.”

“If you insist.”

Rolling your eyes wordlessly, you pumped his cock for a but, before licking a strip along his shaft, making Rafe curse above you. You only smirked to yourself, before you wrapped your lips around his cock, knowing that was all he wanted right now.

“Fuck,” Rafe hissed, his grip on your hair tightening, thought you didn’t mind, your focus solely on sucking the life out of him. Your tongue was pressing against the small slit on his tip as you moved your mouth along the length of his cock, hand still wrapped around his lower base, where you couldn’t quite reach. You weren’t a beginner when it came to cock sucking, but you weren’t a professional either. It was safe to say that Rafe was pretty content with your skills though.

Hollowing out your cheeks, you took in as much of his cock as possible, continuing to suck on him, a mixture of saliva and Rafe’s precum smearing around the edges of your mouth, making a whole mess in your face, though you continued unperturbed.

“Shit, you really give the best head prec-”

Your nails dug into his thighs, and he cut off, replacing your nickname with your real name, and you eased off his thigh, sighing softly as the head of his cock brushed against the back of your throat, hoping it wouldn’t bruise again. It didn’t take long until Rafe slowly started thrusting into your mouth, his hips stuttering that you knew he was close.

“I’m about to come,” he warned you, his voice hoarse and the grip on your hair less hard. You only let out a hum of acknowledgement, not lessening your movement until Rafe spurted his cum down your throat, groaning out your name. You took your mouth off his cock, having swallowed his bitter cum and wiped your mouth, satiated.

Meanwhile, Rafe was leaning on the shower wall, gently extricating his hand out of your wet hair, heaving breaths.

“You’re a minx,” he told you, pulling you up for a quick kiss. You only grinned against his lips, swatting at his bare chest. Nipping on your lower lip, Rafe reached behind you to turn the shower back on, to finally finish what you had come here for in the first place. Together, you showered quickly and thoroughly and as Rafe washed the soapy suds off of you, hands all over your body, it felt intimate but not in a sexual way. You tried not to think about it too much.

When the both of you were done, hands all prune-y, you exited the shower, wrapping yourself in a robe and handing a towel to Rafe so he could dry off. You did a quick run through of your nighttime routine, while Rafe watched bemusedly as he brushed his teeth, but didn’t comment on it. When you were both done, crawling into bed, your hair still damp, you settled into your side of the bed (which was a wild statement in itself, as Rafe turned off the light in the bedroom, before getting in bed on the other side. You were content to fall asleep, safe and soundly tucked in, when Rafe reached under the blankets to pull you close against his chest, tucking his chin into the crook of your neck.

Your cheeks heated, and you side eyed Rafe as he got comfortable in bed, your shoulders tense.

“I meant what I said,” he then muttered, arms wrapped around your waist. “If you ever feel like our friendship is changing or this makes me feel like you can’t trust me, you gotta tell me precious. I don’t want to lose my best friend.”

“I don’t want to lose you either,” you mumbled, laying a hand on his, trying to reassure him, even though your heart was racing a mile a minute. Rafe didn’t reply, and before long, his breath evened out, but you were still wide awake.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: okay real talk, how many of you guessed who the intruder was???

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Aredhel, Celegorm, and Curufin

There’s a lot of odd bits in the dynamic between these three that I’ve tried to explain to myself.

As a foundation, Aredhel is friends with all of the sons of Fëanor, not judt Celegorm and Curufin.

She was younger in the years of the Eldar than her brothers; and when she was grown to full stature and beauty she was tall and strong, and loved much to ride and hunt in the forests. There she was often in the company of the sons of Fëanor, her kin; but to none was her heart’s love given.

Secondly, she’s not necessarily any closer friends with Celegorm and Curufin than with any other of their brothers, and she is never said to be closer with Celegorm than with Curufin. I understand why it’s easy to assume the latter part due to common interests (they both enjoy hunting), but as far as I know it’s nowhere stated.

I had actually misremembered something here – I thought that her specific goal upon leaving Gondolin was to visit Celegorm and Curufin specifically, but it’s not as clear as I thought.

But when she came to the Ford of Brithiach in the River Sirion she said to her companions: “Turn now south and not north, for I will not ride to Hithlum; my heart desires rather to find the Sons of Fëanor, my friends of old.”

In her conversations with the march-wardens of Doriath, they speak of “the land of Celegorm, for which you seek”, and say:

“The speediest way is by the paths that lead east from the Brithiach through Dimbar and along the north-march of this kingdom, until you pass the bridge of Esgalduin and the Fords of Aros, and come to the lands that lie behind the Hill of Himring. There dwell, as we believe, Celegorm and Curufin, and it may be that you will find them; but the road is perilous.”

The “as we believe” is strange to me; it suggests the Doriathrim don’t have the most detailed knowledge of the layout of the Fëanorean armies (or, alternatively, that they’re aware that the Sons of Fëanor themselves move around as fair bit, as in this case where Celegorm and Curufin are visiting Caranthir).

Aredhel gets to Celegorm and Curifin’s lands first because they’re the closest ones on the road she has taken, but that doesn’t mean she set out to visit them specifically.

The first question is: why doesn’t Aredhel head to Thargelion when she’s told that Celegorm and Curufin are there visiting Caranthir? I don’t have a definite answer to this. Maybe she’s tired of travelling for a while: she’s already been through quite the ordeal in Nan Dungortheb. Or maybe expects them to be back soon and doesn’t care as much about visiting Caranthir. Maybe after a while she gets aggravated at them for not coming back, and doesn’t want to chase after them any more.

The second question is: if they’re good friends, why don’t they come back to see her? Upon rereading, one possibility is that messengers aren’t sent to inform them of the fact, but I can’t see why not. “Your cousin who you haven’t seen in 200 years has come to visit” seems newsworthy. Another possibility is that they quarrelled aftef the arrival of the hosts of Fingolfin and Finarfin over the Helcaraxë and hadn’t yet made up when Aredhel went to Gondolin, and part of the reason for this visit is that she wanted to mend fences. In that case, they might still be angry over the agrument and be staying away on purpose. I like this theory because it also helps explain why Aredhel agreed to go to a hidden city where she’d never see the Fëanoreans again, and then changed her mind.

The third question is really a few different parts: why don’t Celegorm or Curufin do anything to help Aredhel, either when she is with Eöl or when she flees? And why does Curufin tell Eöl where she went?

The answer to the first part is, to me, pretty clear: that no one knows or has any reason to conclude that Aredhel is with Eöl less than fully wilingly. (I think Celegorm and Curufin do known that she’s married to him: Curufin does not seem seem surprised when Eöl calls her his wife, this does not seem like it’s new information to him.)

The second part I have a theory on, based on “Laws and Customs among the Eldar” (from HoME vol. 10, Morgoth’s Ring). The customary ceremonies of marriage were the announcement of the betrothal at a meeting of families of the two betrothed, with an exchange of rings followed by a minimum one-year betrothal period. After that the couple set a wedding date, and at the wedding a blessing was given by the mother of the bride and the father of the bridegroom, and there was a second exchange of rings.

In happy days and times of peace it was held ungracious and contemptuous of kin to forego the ceremonies, but it was at all times lawful for any of the Eldar, both being unwed, to marry this of free consent one to another without ceremony or witness (save blessings exchamged and the naming of the Name); and the unionso joined was alike dissoluble.

Now, Aredhel and Eöl’s relationship is not really the best one to invoke LaCE about, bevause it is the only elf-elf-marriage that we know of that appears to be less than entirely of ‘free consent’. “Not wholly unwilling” doesn’t pass muster now.

But to me this gives a solid explanation of both Curufin’s words to Eöl and Curufin’s actions and inactions. Given the Fëanorean attitude displayed towards the Sindar, Aredhel marrying one of them would likely be taken badly regardless; her marrying some random guy without any involvement of her kin and without even informing them would definitely “be held ungracious and contemptuous.” And in this context, Curufin’s line to Eöl, “those who steal the daughters of the Noldor and wed them without gift or leave do not gain kinship with their kin” (which I have seen called ‘Curufin’s only valid moment’) is specifically anger about this. It is not about whether the marriage has Aredhel’s leave. (If he believed Aredhel’s consent was lacking from the start, I do not think he would have told Eöl where she was going!) It is about the lack of leave from Aredhel’s kin. Obviously the specific ceremonies described above could not have happened in any case, because Aredhel’s mother Anairë was not in Middle-earth, but to me the inclusion of “wed them without gift or leave” clearly indicates Curufin’s mad about Eöl basically “eloping” with Aredhel.

And if those are Curufin’s sentiments, it explains why 1) he does not send people after he to ask her what’s up and if she needs help after his scouts sight her and 2) why he tells Eöl where Aredhel is going. In this situation, Curufin is just as mad at Aredhel about the “elopement” as he is at Eöl. He’s not making an effort to help her. She’s made her bed; let her lie in it.

However, rereading the passage, there is an alternative reading that is somewhat more charitable to Curufin. That interpretation us that when Eöl is first brought to him he isn’t yet sure what’s going on. Eöl says Aredhel and Maeglin went to visit Curufin while he was away; Curufin tells Eöl that Aredhel and Maeglin passed the fords of Aros two days ago and rode west, and then says, “It seems that you would decieve me; unless indeed you yourself have been decieved.” Curufin knows something’s up, but he’s not sure what, and he may not at this point be sure that Aredhel is running away rather than her and Eöl being up to something together, though by shortly after in the conversation he has recognized it (“if you now pursue those who love you no more, never will you return thither”). But I don’t find this reading as convincing, because there’s no line that jumps out at me as the place where Curufin realizes this.

Either way – whether Curufin is angry at Aredhel or mistrusts her – his lack of making contact with her after his scouts sight her seems deliberate, and his anger at Eöl over marrying her does not seem principally driven by concern for Aredhel’s well-being. And given that, again, we have nothing indicating Aredhel was closer with Celegorm than with Curufin, there’s no solid reason to conclude Celegorm would have acted any differently.

[maxdibert]

So I’ll be honest. I didn’t really think much of Snape bad/good but now I feel myself converting to liking him maybe even love. How can this be? (I am shooketh) Do you have any Prince family origin hcs?

Well, back in the day I wasn’t exactly a huge Snape fan either—I just thought he was an interesting character, nothing more. My “conversion” came later, as an adult, when I realized just how relatable he is, because honestly, he’s just a whole mood all the time. There’s something about him that I really like beyond his role in the story or the fact that he’s a complex character, and it’s the fact that this guy is stuck in a job he doesn’t like, totally overworked, surrounded by people he can’t stand and who can’t stand him either—and yet he keeps going because he has no other choice. And like… damn, that’s the life of the average adult. Imagine being overloaded with work and having to put up with a bunch of kids and absolute idiots who look down on you—dear god.

Anyway, outside of that, we don’t really know much about the Princes, and they don’t give us a whole lot of info either. I’ve always thought they were a pureblood family, probably part of the elite at some point. I’m not sure if they were still in that position by the time Eileen was born, but I do remember that her marriage and the birth of her child were announced in the newspaper. I don’t think the marriage and motherhood of just any witch would be considered newsworthy, so for it to be printed like a society event, she must’ve either been someone important or from a notable family. So in my opinion, Eileen was probably the last in the Prince line, and they likely believed in blood purity. I don’t think they were as fanatical as the Blacks or the Malfoys, but they definitely had that aristocratic mindset of wanting to marry within their status and looking down on Muggles in general.

I really like this idea because I love the concept of Severus being a full-on half-blood—not just the son of Muggles, but the product of a pureblood mother and a completely Muggle father. And at the same time, I love the idea that he’s not just a blood half-blood, but also someone coming from two very different social classes: a mother from a high-status background and a father from a very low one. That creates a kind of internal class conflict too, and this duality—living between two worlds—is a constant in Snape’s life: between the magical world and the Muggle one, between purebloods and half-bloods, between good and evil, between the Order and the Death Eaters. Those parallels are really fascinating to me when it comes to his character.

I’m not sure if this is exactly the headcanon you were asking for—sorry if I rambled a bit lol.

[qoldenskies]

SPEAK MORE ON ALLO DONNIE AND ARO LEO favorite moment of this dynamic for me is newsworthy when hypnos tricked by mikey’s disguise and raph+donnie are emotional/proud whereas leo’s just not having it

sometimes im torn between leo just being chronically teenage boy and him being aro but i think its funny if it was a mix of both. its his complete diametric opposition to being cringe and sappy fueling his disgust more than it is his coexisting aromanticism, i actually see him as kind of neutral on the idea of dating overall. i dont think the border between romance and friendship would really make sense to him, overall he wouldn't see the "point" of it especially because the lovey-dovey gestures make no sense to him-- once he's at a more mature point of his life, that is. if he's really close with someone and it'd make them happy, sure.

^^ i couldnt really see leo having the aro experience of feeling like he has to have feelings for someone. i think he'd be surprised when he learns that the butterflies-in-your-stomach feeling that people describe is an actual thing??? its a bit of a shock to realize that his complete lack of romantic crushing doesnt stem from no one catching his eye, he's realizing its actually just like. a whole experience he doesnt understand, and he's kind of glad because it sounds COMPLICATED lol (< king commitment issues)

but meanwhile donnie is NOT afraid of being cringe. leo would die if he was cringe but donnie is proudly insanely cringefail, and i cant even say he's rizzless because of it because that is actually somewhat contradicted by mascot melee and it drives me crazy because he is so pathetic but whatever. i see him as having the kind of soppy "teen boy in love for the first time" experience when he falls for someone, it'd be all he talks about for ages. i dont think he'd be the type of person who'd disappear in a relationship but he would definitely have them over all the fucking time LMAO

i could see leo being someone who does kind of have the Aro-Pretentiousness (trust me, i've felt it) where he does genuinely kinda think he's better for being above that shit, but donnie being so aggressively alloromantic is something that would kind of shake that and make him feel disconnected. like he yaps about it so much and leo just gets frustrated at a certain point because it's not something he really gets and he's starting to feel like he's missing something.

keep in mind that leo gets repeatedly accused by raph in canon of being callous/uncaring/duplicitous already, plus he's already kind of emotionally disconnected from other people and not very open about his issues (he's even admitted that everything he says "sounds sarcastic", meaning he struggles with tone just like donnie may)-- i feel like this could be another factor that plays into leo's preexisting insecurities. he feels like there's a wall between him and other people, and learning there's a whole other facet of the "human experience" that he's restricted from would only serve to make that feeling worse. donnie would not understand why leo is getting so fired up and frustrated about fictional crushes, of all things. what's his problem, why is he so insistent donnie shut up about it? lmfaooo

when it comes to donnie dating i genuinely think leo would be the mocking dipshit brother exaggeratedly making fun of him at every step of the way, to donnie's flustered indignation. but if he has to listen to him pining before that point he is going to be SO pissed off the whole time. like oh my god how is it this hard. just get married already. jesus christ

[arottmntepisodeguide]

A Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles episode order

There wasn't any correct viewing order online, so I just made one myself.

Season 1:

Ep 1: Mystic Mayhem

Ep 2: Origami Tsunami/Donnie's Gifts

Ep 3: War and Pizza/Down with the Sickness

Ep 4: Newsworthy/Minotaur Maze

Ep 5: Repo Mantis/Hypno! Part Deux!

Ep 6: The Fast and the Furriest/Shell in a Cell

Ep 7: Mascot Melee/The Longest Fight

Ep 8: Bug Busters

Ep 9: The Gumbus/Stuck on You

Ep 10: The Purple Jacket/Portal Jacked!

Ep 11: Mrs Cuddles/Hot Soup: The Game

Ep 12: Smart Lair/Pizza Pit

Ep 13: The Evil League of Mutants

Ep 14: Late Fee/Bullhop

Ep 15: Al Be Back/Nothing But Truffle

Ep 16: The Purple Game/You Got Served

Ep 17: Shadow of Evil

Ep 18: Man Vs Sewer/Mystic Library

Ep 19: Mind Meld/One Man's Junk

Ep 20: Sparring Partner/Warren and Hypno, Sitting in a Tree

Ep 21: Turtle-Dega Nights: The Ballad of Rat Man/Operation Normal

Ep 22: The Mutant Menace/The Ancient Art of Hide and Seek

Ep 23: Snow Day/How to Make Enemies and People Bend to Your Will

Ep 24: Cloak and Swaggart/Jupiter Jim Ahoy!

Ep 25: Insane in the Mama Train

Ep 26: Endgame

Season 2:

Ep 27: Many Unhappy Returns

Ep 28: Todd Scouts/Goyles, Goyles, Goyles

Ep 29: Flushed But Never Forgotten/Lair Games

Ep 30: Breaking Purple/Repairin' The Baron

Ep 31: Air Turtle/Pizza Puffs

Ep 32: Mystery Meat/Hidden City Job

Ep 33: Sidekick Ahoy!/Always Be Brownies

Ep 34: Donnie Vs Witch Town/Raph's Ride Along

Ep 35: Hidden City's Most Wanted/Bad Hair Day

Ep 36: Fists Of Furry/The Clothes Don't Make the Turtles

Ep 37: Battle Nexus: New York

Ep 38: E-Turtle Sunshine of the Spotless Mind/Shreddy or Not

Ep 39: Anatawa Hitorijanai/Rise

This is a condensed version of one I made on Reddit (removing the essentials list, an alternate episode order, explanation of episode placement, etc). Here's that one for anybody interested. I'm confident that season 1's first half (at least everything before Bug Busters) is in a suitable order, but the second half is definitely up in the air about where the episodes go. Leave any comments if you notice something is out of order. Also, this is a repost because I compiled an image for all the episodes now and I think that can make this more visible for people that could need it/are looking for it.

[theroyalbard]

Behold my (Definitely not a self insert) Gravity Falls Oc

Sam Cedar

24 years old News producer for the Gravity Falls News Network

Frequents the bars around town to party and generally have a good time. Uses her special ear phones in order to perform party tricks and influence those around her into having a good time and sometimes create newsworthy stories for her shows the next day.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Stuck Between a Jock and a Metalhead

Summary: Nancy, on a whim, decides to visit Steve at Scoops Ahoy, which leads to her overhearing confessions from Steve that leads her to think about the decisions she's made. A few days later, she decides to come back. She finds him being hit on by the town freak. What's a girl to do? Oh, get stuck in a freezer with the both of them.

TW for SA. Steve was violated, too. He deserves to have a voice, too. These guys need a lot of healing and love. They're going to get it.

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Steve’s POV

It was early in the morning on Saturday, and Steve was staring at his closet, trying to decide what to wear. He was pretty sure that Eddie was joking when he called it a date. . .hadn't he? Spending time lately with Eddie Munson and Nancy has been a surprise, but he was finding it quite enjoyable. He was definitely still in love with her, but he was also starting to have feelings for Eddie. It didn't take the kiss to realize that, but it definitely helped. He and Eddie hadn't really talked about it, nor had he talked about it with Nancy. It had been a vulnerable moment for Eddie as he thought he was dying, and Steve wasn't sure how to approach the subject. He wasn't sure how to even deal with his feelings for two people, and he couldn't help but wonder if this is how Nancy felt struggling with her feelings for two people had gone. . .if Nancy had feelings for him at all. If only there was a way for him to date both of them and for them both to be okay with it.

"This is crazy," Steve muttered.

After what seemed like forever, Steve decided on a striped red and blue polo. He straightened the red collar and stared at the lip gloss sitting on his dresser. He debated with himself and finally decided on wearing it. They've seen him in Scoops Ahoy before wearing lip gloss. He puckered his lips and started putting it on, trying not to think about smearing it across Eddie's mouth with his own. Steve stood back and started doing a slow turn in front of the mirror. Were his jeans tight enough? Maybe they were too tight? Or too loose? Steve slapped his own ass. No, just loose enough. Steve winked at himself in the mirror and shot himself finger guns.

"You got this," Steve whispered, and then he deflated. "This is not a date. Stop acting like it's a date."

A loud knock on the front startled him, and he headed downstairs. He told them where to meet, right? When he opened the door, Hopper was standing on his doorstep.

"Hey, kid, I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" Hopper asked.

"No, I'm not heading out until later," Steve said and stepped aside. "Come on in. I made coffee not too long ago. Would you like a cup?"

Hopper shut the door behind him and smiled.

"That would be great. Thanks," Hopper said and followed him into the kitchen. "You got a big date later today?"

"Well, I wouldn't call it a date," Steve blushed. "I'm meeting Nancy and Eddie later to look through my grandfather's things at his old salon. Nancy wants to work on her sleuthing skills. I doubt she'll find anything newsworthy."

"Maybe not newsworthy but maybe worthy to you. What brought this on?" Hopper asked, taking a sip of the coffee Steve set in front of him.

"Well, I kind of want to go to cosmetology school to become a barber," Steve said, tapping the counter nervously.

"You would be good at that. I remember going to your grandfather's shop. He'd be the only one my dad would trust with his hair. You do remind me a lot of Otis," Hopper said.

"Really?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, he'd be proud of you," he said. "And I think he would be touched that you wanted to follow in his footsteps."

"Thanks," Steve said, swallowing thickly.

"You thinking about reopening the shop?" Hopper asked.

"Well, with the mall taking up most of the businesses, I'm not sure that would be the smartest decision," Steve shrugged.

"Well, you'd be surprised with how many people loved Otis," Hopper said. "Think they'd love to go to the salon again, knowing his grandson was running it in favor of going to the mall. People used to come in from out of town to get their hair cut by him."

"Wow," Steve said. "I didn't know that. I was really little when he had to close the store."

"Well, if you need any help setting it up, I'd be happy to help out," Hopper said.

"Thanks, Hop," Steve said, smiling.

They fell into silence for a while as Hopper finished his coffee.

"I don't know if Nancy talked to you, but. . . ," he trailed off.

"She said that you needed to talk to me about something," he said.

Hopper sighed and pulled a small object out of his pocket. He placed it on the table. It was a role of film. Steve looked at him questioningly.

"I don't exactly what happened the night Barb died, but I do know that Jonathan was looking for his brother and stumbled onto your little get-together," Hopper sighed. "I also know that he took a picture of you and Nancy getting. . .close. Particularly, of Nancy taking her shirt off. I know when you found out that you tore up the photos and broke his camera, which I have to applaud you for not decking him. Turns out he kept the film strip all this time."

"He kept it?" Steve asked softly.

"Nancy found it when she went to pick up her things," Hopper said.

"She didn't say. . .was she okay?" He asked.

"She was a little shaken up. She was probably trying to prepare herself to talk to you about it," he said. "I'm going to ask you the same thing that I asked Nancy. Do you want to press charges against Jonathan?"

"Charges?"

"For violating your privacy, harassment, stalking, and trespassing," Hopper said.

"What did Nancy say?" Steve asked.

"I'm not going to tell you until you tell me your answer," he said. "What do you want to do?"

His stomach churned as it did the same damn day he saw those photos. He remembered seeing them for the first time, and he couldn't help but hate the guy who took them. He remembered how worried he had been at the idea of Nancy seeing them. While over eager sometimes, he always made sure that his sexual partners felt safe and comfortable with him. . .to think that someone did something like what Jonathan had done. . .to make Nancy not feel safe doing that when she clearly wanted to. . . Well, it pissed him off. Jonathan had come into his backyard and took a picture of something that was supposed to be private. Not to mention that he saw Barb sitting there looking all sad and lonely, then left without asking if she was okay, but he made sure to take her photo. Both Steve and Nancy had thought she had gone home. . .Jonathan had been the last one to see her alive. He could have done anything and maybe the demogorgon. . . No, it would have taken him as well or killed him. He took Nancy's photo without her permission and Barb's photo because. . .what?. . . He thought they were saying something? He also knew that Jonathan probably still meant something to Nancy, that he definitely still meant something to Joyce and Will. He liked them both.

"No, I don't want to press charges," Steve sighed heavily.

"What do you want to do then?" Hopper asked.

"Chuck this fucking film role at his head for starters," Steve said and Hopper laughed.

"It's exactly what Nancy did," Hopper said. "It's alright if you're angry with him. You're allowed to feel all that and let it out in a healthy way. Don't learn from me. I've kept so many things bottled up until it's stormed out of me. Release a little bit of a time, and it won't break the glass. Getting angry doesn't mean you're anything like your dad. You have every right to be hurt by what Jonathan did."

"You keep saying that you don't give good advice, but that seemed pretty good to me," Steve sniffed.

"It was a rare moment, probably won't happen again," Hopper said, and Steve laughed. "Come here, kid."

He pulled Steve into a hug, and for the first time in a while, Steve realized that this was what it was supposed to feel like to have a dad. Steve pulled back from the hug, wiping his eyes.

"You need me to stick around?" Hopper asked.

"No, I just . . . Need time to myself. I need to think," Steve said softly.

"I get it," Hopper said. "You know where to find me if you need me, kid. I'm here. I'll get someone to dispose of the negatives."

Steve nearly bit his tongue to stop himself from saying 'thanks, dad', but he managed, and then Hopper was gone. He stood in the entryway for a while, just staring at the wall as his mind went blank. He slowly walked up the stairs to his room and stared at it from the doorway. He glanced at the plaid walls and the plaid curtains as well as the plaid blanket on his bed. Whenever his parents were gone, like they were now, Steve always felt much safer with them out of the house. He felt like he could breathe again. His parents didn't like clutter. They liked everything orderly, just another way of letting people know that they're better than other people, especially Steve. At the same time, it was also another way of hiding their differences like their freak of a son who wasn't allowed to have the things that mattered to him. He kept them tucked away in a box so his parents wouldn't give them away. They loved to give away stuff for 'charity' to make themselves look good. They especially loved using his stuff. So when they were gone, he would pull his things out and set them up. He felt safer when they were up, but he had yet to pull them out, and looking around the room, he suddenly felt overwhelmed. He wanted Nancy to feel safe with him that night, and it failed to happen for both of them.

Barb had died that night while they were together, and a part of him would always feel guilty about that. He also knows that him and Nancy weren't doing anything wrong. They both wanted to be with each other that night, Steve had made sure that it was what Nancy wanted as well. If he learned anything from his parents' relationship, it's what not to do. Steve wandered over to the window, the very window that Jonathan had taken a picture of, and stared down at the pool. It felt like it was taunting him. The only time he had ever really felt safe here was when his grandfather lived here for a while, then when he had become friends with Tommy, and then Nancy came into his life. When she was there, it felt like nothing could go wrong, and then shit had hit the fan. His heart got broken, and the kids came tumbling into his life as well as his house. All these people. . .they had made it a home because that's what they were. . . Not the house itself. No matter where he went, they would follow him nestled safe inside his heart, and he could turn anything into a home. . .except for this house. Suddenly, he knew that he couldn't stay here anymore. He had to find another place to live. It was the final nail in the coffin.

"Fuck you!" Steve screamed, tired of holding it all in. . .tired of trying to remain 'perfect'.

He grabbed the flimsy, shitty curtains and tore them down. He ripped them in half easily. Stupid, ugly cheap curtains. He stared at the red car poster hanging in his room, the only thing his parents let him keep, and then his eyes landed on his bat. He picked it up and swung. It hid the picture, the glass breaking as the nails pierced it. The picture clattered to the floor. He turned to the haunted window and swung again. The glass flew outward as his bat went through the window. He stared at the plaid walls and let out a yell as he hit it with his bat, careful to avoid the studs. He hit the ugly wallpaper over and over again until he accidentally hit a stud, and his bat got stuck.

He slid to the floor, tired, and stared at the destruction he had caused. He started to laugh until his laughter turned into tears, and then he was just crying as he thought about the night that led to the downfall of his relationship with Nancy. He thought about Barb and how he wished desperately that she was here, that he could get to know her. He wished that Jonathan hadn't been in those woods, that he didn't have a reason, too. He wished that the Upside Down didn't exist, and he could still have all of the important people in his life. He wished his grandparents were still alive so he could have parents who loved him. He wished his parents were different. He wished for so many things, but most importantly, he wished people could see him for who he truly is. . . The person he always tried to be.

Steve cried so hard that he knelt on the floor with his head in between in his knees as he released all of his pain, his anger, and his sadness. He released everything, including the contents of his stomach, all over the floor. He wiped his mouth and didn't bother cleaning up the room. He moved his boxes and clothes into the guest room, leaving everything in his former room just the way it was. He made sure to grab the bat, though. He changed clothes and brushed his teeth but didn't bother reapplying his lip gloss. He put on his comfort sweater and ate some toast. As he munched on his toast and drank some water to rehydrate, he wondered how Nancy had handled it. He sighed. He needed to see Nancy. He wasn't going to push her to talk, but he kind of needed at least talk to her about it.

He played soothing music as he drove to Nancy's, and he realized he hadn't called first. Shit. Oh, well. He pulled into the driveway and walked up to the front door. After he knocked, Steve was relieved to see that Nancy had answered the door first.

"Hey, I thought we weren't meeting at the Salon until later?" Nancy asked.

"Uh, something came up. I wanted to talk to you about it. Do you want to go to the quarry?" Steve asked.

"Sure, let me get my purse," Nancy said.

The drive to the quarry was silent, as was the walk down to the bottom. They sat on a small patch of earth, took off their shoes as well as their socks, and put their feet in the water.

"Hopper came to see me this morning," Steve said.

"He told you about the film strips," Nancy stated.

"Yeah," Steve said softly and paused.

"You don't have to talk about it if you're not ready," Nancy said gently.

"I don't know, I think I might have overreacted. I just stared at my room, at the window, and just started hitting everything in the room with the bat. I lost it, then I started laughing and then I cried. I cried so hard I threw up. I don't know, it was like on top of everything in that house that happened to me. . . To us. . .it was just too much. Either that, or I really am crazy," Steve said.

"Steve Harrington, you have every right to feel the way that you do," Nancy said. "You're not crazy for finally letting it all in. You've held in so much for so many years. At first, I was just mind of numb. I was in shock. I kind of let everything in that I had been ignoring and pushing away. I told myself that it wasn't that, not compared to what happened to Barb. When I got home and took a nap with Holly, it helped to know she was there. Yet later that night, I woke up in the middle of the night from yet another nightmare about Barb, and I puked my guts out. We've been holding it all in, don't you think it's time we feel it?"

"Yeah. . .it's just . . . It was you he took a picture of, Nancy. Do I even have a right to feel this way?" He asked softly.

"It was your house. . .your room. I was taking my shirt off to sleep with you. It was our intimate moment, and he violated that moment for both of us. You have every right to feel that way, just as much as I do," Nancy said.

"I can't believe he kept it," Steve said.

"He said he forgot it was there, which might be the case, but it still makes me feel weird," Nancy said, rolling her eyes.

"I'm not sure if I'm ever going to be able to like the guy, Nance," Steve admitted honestly.

"And that's okay, too. You don't have to like him just for my sake," Nancy said. "It was really sweet that you tried to."

"I really wanted that moment to be special for us, Nancy. It meant something to me that you wanted to be with me like that. I want you to know that," Steve said softly.

"It meant something to me too," Nancy said sweetly.

"Do you think I overreacted?" He asked.

"You reacted exactly the way you felt you were supposed to when something like this happens," Nancy said. "You just need to let it in. We both do. Feel it now and forgive him later. . .not for him but for us."

Nancy put her arm through his and leaned her head against his shoulder. Steve stared at the rippling water ahead of them. It really was beautiful out here.

"Do you think that one day we're going to think about what we did that night without thinking about what else happened then, too?" Steve asked.

"No, I think we're always going to remember, but I do think, I hope that we can finally stop being scared of the intimacy we shared that night," Nancy said softly. "It was never a mistake. . . Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"I never apologized for calling you bullshit. . .for putting the blame all on you," Nancy said. "You didn't deserve that. You weren't a shitty boyfriend either. You were the perfect first boyfriend and I fucked it all up. Don't say it was okay, either."

"It wasn't okay, but neither was what happened that night. After spending time apart, we both had time to think. I think I forgave you the moment you walked back into my life, Nancy Wheeler," Steve said.

Nancy opened her mouth to say something else but closed it again. He kissed her forehead. Steve sighed and leaned his head against hers. He felt closer to her than he ever had before. Maybe it was going to be different this time.

Chapter Seven

[nodynasty4us]

Another letter from the October 13, 2024 mailbag:

D.T. in Columbus, OH, writes: I would argue that the (definitely real) bias in media coverage has a much simpler explanation than being some sort of conspiracy to help Trump. Simply put: Negative stories about Democrats are more "newsworthy". Keep in mind exactly how low the bar has been set for Donald Trump. He utters crazy, rambling nonsense every day. He says bigoted things all the time. So "Trump does something awful" is not really an interesting news story. It is very clearly a "dog bites man" event. This isn't a moral judgment, or excusing Donald Trump's behavior as acceptable. But if the purpose of news organizations is to provide people with information they did not yet have... well, reminding people that "Trump is still a crazy a**hole" is a waste of effort. Everyone already has this information. By contrast, when one of Trump's opponents screws up, it is quite noteworthy. Corruption, bigotry, or mental impairment are not expected from the Democrats. In the first debate this year, Donald Trump's rambling was actually way less coherent than what Joe Biden said. But the impact for Joe Biden's campaign was much more significant. Everyone knows Donald Trump is incapable of presenting a coherent argument. But people had higher expectations for Biden, so his bad performance was more newsworthy. This was a "man bites dog" situation. It was information that many voters did not already have. I don't like the imbalance in reporting, either. I wish the bar had not been lowered so much for Trump. But that's not something the news organizations can change by themselves. That can only be fixed by the voters, many who are inexplicably still willing to vote for Trump.

[mud-castle]

Given that hyenas *can* move up their hierarchy through social means (that newsworthy lass who went from lowest to highest rank through the power of well-placed friendship), and that Canon ranks kits above warriors for food distribution, perhaps kits inherit the highest rank from their parents? This allows a lower rank warrior to improve their social standing by mentoring a high-born kit, and lets struggling apprentices fall down the ranks for ~drama~

Oh, I know that hyenas can improve rank through social means, it's just rare and our queen Waffles is a particularly exceptional gal.

Improvement in rank through mentoring a higher kit is something I didn't think about. I'd imagine it's rare and the leader has to really like you, or trust whoever recommended you so it's uncommon. Considering the higher up you are, the better the education you receive, I'd imagine it's not as common for apprentices to slip, but definitely easier for a cat to slip than to rise. I'm pretty set on them being matrilinial though, for simplicity if nothing else.

...lowkey at this point I should be applying all this worldbuilding to my ocs and focus more on the actual story of this au...