#listening to it while thinking about the hiatus is genuinely so painful

[personthattoleratesme]

I’m forever grateful that dnp returned before the release of TTPD cause I fear that hearing So Long London during the hiatus would’ve been my 13th reason

[donquixotehomura]

Donquixote Doflamingo x Reader His Type

Master List

this kinda got away from me lol, it's also messy, Nsfw part warning I marked it tho no worries, the kinda trigger warnings that accompany Doffy apply but not all of them, also blood and death not Doffy or reader..... ish. as always please tell me if you find any mistakes and to address my hiatus I got sick then busy then sick again it was a rough ride lol

Feisty, headstrong, bratty, Loyal, obedient, smart, supportive, sympathetic, insane.

SFW AKA FLUFFY

He likes how loyal you are to him, how nothing and no one will make you betray him, how you’d defy the whole world for him and how you’d die for him.    He likes that you’re not with him because he’s a god or king, not because of his wealth or influence, not because he’s strong or a conqueror, you love his strength yes, but you love more than just that, you love all of him.   

He likes how nice you are to him, how you always listen to him and how you help him, how you don’t pity him for what happened but your reaction is just sadness because he suffered, it’s out of your pure feelings of love towards him which baffled him for a long time when he found out after he was done suspecting you had ulterior motives.    It takes him a while to get used to this and accept it, especially how you encourage him to open up and that it’s not weakness to have problems and it’s part of being alive, how he can be vulnerable with you without consequences.    If he just wants to talk, you’ll listen attentively and it doesn’t matter how long after if he brings it up again you’ll remember everything, if he wants feedback you’ll give him feedback and advice.    He’s conflicted because you taught him it’s OK to be vulnerable and show weakness to you, that he doesn’t have to be strong the whole time, especially that he wanted to portray himself as strong for you to show he can protect you and that he’s the best, that you won’t find anyone like him, so you don’t ever leave him, you assure him you won’t ever leave and he believes you.   Your love for him persists even tho you know he’s not as strong as he portrays himself, and that he has these *human* feelings, how he’s still tortured by nightmares of his past, how sleep escapes him on many nights and when he does sleep he almost always jolts awake in terror struggling to calm his heartbeat and control his breathing, how when that happens you don’t comment on it and just drag him into your arms and never acknowledge the nightmare waiting for him to do it when he’s ready, how you stop him from drowning out the terror with alcohol and give him an alternative, talking about random things asking about what he’s going to do tomorrow even tho you know his schedule or even read to him or tell him a story, but you never judge him no  matter what you never look at him any less and never leave or betray him.   How you still look at him with the same admiration and love you always did and even more, he questions if you’re sound of mind to be so genuinely in love with someone like him, he knows his flaws and wonders if you don’t, he asks you once and you just tell him that you know and acknowledge his flaws and you love him, flaws and all.

He realizes how much he loves you and that scared him, he avoided you for a couple of days till you basically pursued him and sat him down to talk asking if something was troubling him and if it's you, he doesn't confess outright but he makes it very clear, and he's thankful for your perceptiveness because he didn't have to say it for you to understand how he feels and how confessing won't be easy at least for a while.

In the end he hates that you're loyal and love him enough that you're willing to die for him, he doesn't want to lose you, just thinking about it puts him in pain.

NSFW

He likes his toys obedient and serving, however if you want to be more than just a toy you have to have your own sense of self and not just a mindless fool, he likes feisty and bratty, he likes his partner to have her own sense of self while still being loyal to him, he likes someone who has their own thoughts however if you always question him that’ll annoy him, there’s a delicate balance, he also likes it when you tease him and are bratty, there’s nothing he enjoys more than punishing your teasing till you’re begging for more or for him to slow down depending on which way he decided to punish you either way in the end he’ll be fucking the brat out of you till you can no longer think.    His queen can be as bratty as she wants, and she gets everything she wants, however all actions have consequences, the brattier you are the more he’ll punish you, his punishments are pure blissful torture.    Nothing turns him on more than seeing you be sadistic, killing enemies brutally? Turns him on, getting covered in blood in the process? Sends shivers down his spine and straight to his cock, torturing a traitor or enemy for information? He knows for a fact that you're secretly watching him and can see his straining boner especially when you throw him a knowing glance and smiling teasingly while standing over the poor soul that’s suffering, same goes for you for all the above, especially when he uses his devil fruit how the strings can be so dangerous and sharp enough to cut through anything but he has enough control that he can make them dull enough that he can use them on you without leaving a single cut or a few scratches if he wishes, licking your blood also turns him on.    When you bite him during sex, that’s a privilege held by no other, he discovered he liked it when he was fucking you hard in an empty hallway in some base of an underworld dealer he was making a deal with and got bored and annoyed so during a break, he dragged you with him to an empty hallway pinned you to the wall and told you to be quiet as he quickly pulled down your pants and his fingers found your wetness you lack of panties and being already wet wasn’t lost on him, soon enough he was balls deep inside you while you muffled your moans by burying your face in his neck, his shirt jacket and coat having already been discarded at this point, he never slowed down even as you both heard voices going up and down the other hallways, as you felt yourself about to come you clung harder to him while he encouraged you and also teased you that you’ll get caught if you’re too loud, you came hard and instinctively bit down on his shoulder so hard you drew blood, the sudden unexpected feeling made him follow you emptying himself inside you, quickly realizing what you did you went to apologize but before a word left you, you heard him laughing quietly in your ear, looking at you with that usual grin was an immediate relief what he said next shocked you “so my feisty kitten likes to bite fufufufu ...I’ll keep that in mind for later tonight” he finished his sentence by kissing your red stained lips tasting his blood on them, good news is his clothes covered your handiwork and yours covered his, otherwise everyone would have known what went down a few feet away from them  

[slemhosta]

I wanna thank everyone who took the time to listen to my Rosch Audio Diary project! (all 25 minutes of it- meowza!) A collection about grief, mental illness and loss!

This is sort of a "post mortem" text where I ramble about it for a bit.

I started writing down ideas for voice lines at the end of 2023, and in February 2024 i began recording them. Some are very carefully scripted like the "when I sit catatonic for hours" or the one about the wounded bird, and some are completely improvised. When I felt inspired, I grabbed my phone and started talking. "Deserve", "This is the effort" and "I don't talk about my wife" are good examples. I think you can tell the dialogue is a bit more "floaty", but I really wanted them to sound genuine while delivering a clear message.

Some ideas developed as I was recording. I knew Rosch had sold his wedding band, but it wasn't until I ran it that I realized that Ingeborg's ring was gone as well.

It was supposed to be a 3 parter. But 3 became 4, and 5 and 6. I think the progression of emotions flowed better when it was shorter. But I ended up with so many bits I liked that I had to expand. And that's a good problem to have! Some stuff from the first batch got cut though. Like 2 minutes of Rosch talking about how he banged his toe in a trash yard. Something about how his pain resistance has developed over the years. Had to go.

I've always wanted to try voice acting. :> But I never in a million years would have done this if not for my pals. I was inspired to record and share my voice because of Scrap. And I've had overwhelming support along the way from so many in the group.

So thank you, thank you, thank you <3

There was a loooong hiatus until I finally picked up the project again and got to work. So go finish your project you're working on. Make it. Because REMEMBER! It doesn't need to be perfect- it needs to be DONE! Perfect things don't exist because they're never finished! (so go make something and then share it. Do it scared, do it sloppy.)

It's really fun to think of your stuff as "projects" and to spend more time on a big thing. I love making stuff, I love sharing it and I love that I'm getting the encouragement I need to try new things and keep making it. Hooray :o)

Okay bye, end of post.

[therandomdragons]

a poorly-written rant about my youtube content

I'll be honest folks, I think I'm finally experiencing a proper burnout from YouTube. I do have an animatic in the works which is getting close to done and that I will post (eventually), but after that, things are a bit less certain.

Ideas for videos have always come pretty easily to me. Over the past 6 years I've just been pumping out as many of those ideas as I possibly could. But lately that endless stream has started to run dry.

Not to say I'm totally out of ideas--the true pain of this hobby is that EVERY SONG I listen to becomes an animatic in my brain--but that a lot of these ideas feel more out of obligation than genuine desire to make an animatic about said song/audio. Does that make sense? idk lol.

But lately my life has gotten a lot more busy--and I'm striving to pursue the fields I actually want to build careers in--and making animatics for literally NO MONEY is starting to take less and less of a priority. Which is funny, because every time I say that, I pump out a Short for the week.

So basically, I don't know whether or not I will or should take a hiatus. No, I KNOW I should, but I don't know if I will. I've just gotten so used to making these, and it's hard to imaging living my days without animatic plans lingering in my mind.

Another factor in my growing dissatisfaction is, admittedly, jealousy. My channel flip-flops from doing good to terrible over and over again, and it's frustrating. I've been doing this for SIX YEARS and have almost nothing stats-wise to show for it, which honestly really fucking sucks. I don't understand how other artists are able to get the attention that they do. Is it just luck? is there something I'm missing? Is my art just not good enough? I really don't know. I think the truth is that I just need a stroke of luck I haven't had yet, but I'm getting tired of waiting for it. I'm getting tired of working so damn hard only to get crickets.

Originally I wanted YouTube to be my full-time job, but that's not the case anymore. This is a hobby now, and frankly I need to start treating it like a hobby instead of a job. I need to pivot the energy spent on making animatics to my writing---THAT is the career that truly feels right for me. I am a writer first and artist second, but somehow those two got a bit tangled up along the way.

ANYWAY, all this to say your girl RD is probably gonna take a break from animatics for a while after this next one (spoiler, Pale White Horse by The Oh Hellos) is done. I will still be making art, and hell, probably still making videos, but animatics are gonna slow down a whooooole lot.

That's all, thank you for reading <3

[sinnerandafool]

Ramblings of an Elder Emo

I’ve fallen so far back into my fall out boy obsession. It’s really cool in some ways, but not so much in others. 

It’s cool because their music has always made me happy, even the saddest songs, even MANIA, which a lot of fans don’t really enjoy, was on repeat when it came out in 2018. I think from 2018-2023 I went through a period of pretending my past didn’t exist because it was too painful. I went to therapy, I was (and still am) in the only truly good and healthy relationship of my life. I just wanted to shove all of that down and forget myself. During that time I was more into indie stuff like Maggie Rogers, not like that’s new thing for me (I’m a big time Regina Spektor fan). And, the only new music they put out during that time was the Lake Effect Kid EP, which was really cool, but I definitely didn’t appreciate it as much as I do now. Weirdly enough, when they were on the Hella Mega Tour, my partner asked me if I wanted to go, and I was like, “meh”, a feeling I can’t really understand to this day. Anyway. Then the pandemic happened, which was a really big two years of growth for me. I came out of an obsessive relationship with food, I completely changed careers. I stopped hating myself at every available moment. 

This is not to say that my “emo phase” contributed to my self-hatred in any way. Actually, bands like Fall Out Boy and Panic! At The Disco* were a huge balm to my teenaged sadness. I think that’s where the not-so-cool aspect of falling back into obsession lies. I went through some seriously depressing times back before their hiatus, when I was in middle and high school. My family was a wreck. My “friends” were so virulently critical of me all the time (did I deserve it? I don’t know. It’s hard to have that distance from yourself when you’re 16, and even harder to clearly remember things from over a decade ago). When I hear From Under the Cork Tree and Infinity on High, I’m reminded of being that girl. She was an overeager misfit trying desperately to pretend like she didn’t care. It’s all bottled up in my head to this day, because even in therapy I didn’t manage to get all that out. It was still too embarrassing and shameful to talk about.  

I went off to college in 2012, and in 2013 something kind of amazing happened, wherein my favorite band released a new surprise album called Save Rock and Roll. I went out and bought a new iPod shuffle just so I could listen to it while walking around campus. I will never forgive myself for missing out on Fall Out Boy’s Save Rock and Roll tour, when they played relatively intimate venues, and judging by the videos I’ve seen from that era, rocked really hard. But regardless. I think their music started to appeal to me more again because I was essentially friendless during this time. The only “friends” I had were the young men who approached me in the hopes of getting in my pants, which I naively, foolishly, hopefully misinterpreted as a genuine interest in me, in getting to know me, and creating some kind of trust and non-sexual intimacy. That didn’t play out. 

American Beauty/American Psycho came out when I was home from a school break. I remember this wasn’t the worst winter break I spent at home with my narcissistic mother and step-father (yes, both of them were terrible), but even after the worst time, it never got better. It was wall to wall tension in those days, and I always spent the majority of my time avoiding interaction by hiding in my bedroom or snapping headphones over my ears, shutting out the nastiness. 

I graduated from college with a useless degree and started working. During this time, my eating disorder got worse and worse until it was all I could think about. Then MANIA came out in 2018 and I’m sorry to say that everything about that album just reminds me of my obsession with being thin. It was really hard back then. I can’t really think clearly about it because my mind was such a wreck from lack of nourishment and precise, obsessive calorie tracking. 

In the five years since MANIA, I’ve changed a lot, like I already wrote. And I essentially forgot about Fall Out Boy. Except for one or two weeks in 2020 when “I’ve Been Waiting” came out and I created a playlist called Emo Jesus that wasn’t really that great. I looked back though it recently and the song choice was pretty lame honestly. 

All this to say, hearing new Fall Out Boy and revisiting their old stuff has made me feel a lot of feelings, both elated and depressed, and I’m simultaneously happy and terrified about it. What could be more Fall Out Boy than that?

Boo yah. 

*I just want to be really clear, I was a big fan of Panic! from when the released A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out, Pretty. Odd., and then many years later I discovered Vices and Virtues and liked that a lot. I was never all that interested in most of the Brendon! At the Disco stuff. I dunno, it just made me a bit sad, and not in a poetic way that feels a little like happiness. 

[ianthewife]

pleaseee as one chronic yapper to another you are so real for this

this chapter was so so good but so heavy yes, literally felt like an anvil being dropped on my head or being out through a meat grinder honestly… which makes my decision to finish listening to it at night before bed fucking insane, no wonder today i have a headache like ive been waterboarded in some cellar the whole night

also. what do you mean hiatus. what do you mean months?? god, everyone who listened to tsv while it was ongoing should be recognized as a martyr, tbh id personally end it all

i cant believe this whole episode started with them laughing while speeding away from the cops just like some regular kids on a joyride, sigh they were so happy for literally one single second, im genuinely tweaking

i can’t even talk about Faulkner in this episode yet, it is literally too painful, im genuinely scarred by the amount and depth of fucking agony this boy is in, it is ruining me. all that i can say right now is that i will never ever ever be able to have anything in my heart other than absolute love and compassion for him

the Rane stuff is simply insane. the ranefall is truly build upon smoke and mirrors and false stained glass murals of their own creation. Faulkner is so alone, he really doesn’t have a family at the Parish anymore, he can’t even have any kind of real meaningful relationship with a person who is known as his confidante because he is completely stuck in his harrowing and never ending performance. Rane is incapable of seeing any of Faulkner’s struggles and suffering and the real him because they only see him through the bright and blinding prism of the High Prophet image. So yeah. Fun and good stuff happening for the ranefall, not tragic at alllllllll

i promise im gonna shut up soon but i need to talk about did you hear the music. the first instance of it that also stuck with me was actually when they just got to Faulkner’s family cabin and Faulkner was talking about his adventures in the fucking water butt and Sibling Rane just asks if he still listens to the music. Honey. My love, do you hear yourself? You just asked a guy if he still waterboards himself recreationally, do you understand that? Wild stuff to ask in a sincere and awed voice.

tbh Sibling Rane’s justification machine is such a great and well-oiled mechanism, it works 24/7 and literally never fails, they are soooo locked in and bought into all this cult bullshit. and in the end of the episode there was such a whiplash for me when they are getting Faulkner out and saying stuff like I’ve got you and You’re safe and then there is this switch when they ask if he heard the music and they sound awed— im just sitting here staring into the wall. im still reeling a bit from all of this so my opinion isn’t fully consolidated yet but im just sitting and thinking: did Rane just straight up deluded themself into believing that Faulkner was just having some kind of communion with their god? did they even understand that he was trying to kill himself for real for real or do they think the Prophet wouldn’t do it? idk i need to study them in a lab, these people are insane and have completely consumed my mind

hi Rane Ambassador so. tsv ep. 38 huh. it killed me my whole family all the electricity in the city and the god itself. i know i keep thinking that about every new episode but id say it’s def the best season 3 episode so far for sure right??

I’m so glad to be recognised as the Rane ambassador.

And yeah god chapter 38 is allot. It is personally my favourite episode, but also the only episode I haven’t relistened to ever. I just can’t handle it, hits too close to home.

Also I need you to know, when the show was coming out, there was a unplanned hiatus that lasted 3 months after 38 came out. So image just now hearing about anything for like multiple months RIGHT AFTER “did you hear the music?” OUGH. (It was for a valid reason but oh my god)

Okay but RANE THOUGHTS.

There’s allot I could say about this episode but in regards to specifically Rane OOHH BOY. The conversation they have with Faulkner about being chosen is so important, because Faulkner has gone the entire series believing he was special, that his trauma MEANT SOMETHING. But here, Rane is parroting a very similar sentiment to Thurrocks, which illustrates that Faulkner has never been special, and that they all just fall for this false promise of importance and meaning that can be achieved when climbing the ladder. Rane is like Faulkner, which means Faulkner isn’t special at all.

But then we get to how Rane views Faulkner. At the beginning of the episode we have this very nice moment of childhood mischief. It’s the closest they ever get to being actual friends. And Faulkner craves that closeness but he’s never really shown any real side of him, so any closeness is based on a lie because Rane doesn’t REALLY know Faulkner, or see him.

Which this is confirmed at the end. Rane’s qeustion “did you hear the music?” When Faulkner almost drowned shows Rane doesn’t care about Faulkner but only care about his connection to their god. Because that’s the only way Faulkner can be important to anyone, because he’s never tried to get close to anyone or be important to them on a emotional level. Only ever searching this connection and adoration through his religion. His connection with Rane being the natural result of that.

Uh so yeah I think they’re intresting….I’m so normal about them, also this is probably really incoherent

[didsomeonesaydaddydraco]

Baby you | Tom Felton x Reader

Pairing: Tom Felton x Reader

Words: 1,637

Warning: none. just fluff

Author’s note: Sorry for the long wait, I was on a hiatus. I had to figure out a few things in my life and focus on my mental health. 

Hospitals have always been one of my least favorite places on the planet. When a family member or acquaintance had a kid, I didn't even want to go there. I felt sick to my stomach from the scent of antiseptics and the notion that someone could be dying in one of the rooms, so I tried to stay away from the building as much as possible. But right now, I'm sitting in the waiting room, staring at half-white, half-sage green walls, trying to take in as little air as possible to avoid the stench of antiseptics and my excessively protective boyfriend freaking out next to me. 

"How many times do I have to tell you that you need to be more cautious?" Tom sighs and fidgets with his watch on his wrist, checking the time every second and blaming the ER nurses and physicians for their slow job. "We've been here for more than a half-hour and no one has bothered to inquire as to what we're waiting for.”

"Tom, I have a sprained ankle, but I'm not going to die. Calm down, just because you're impatient doesn't mean they can work faster," I say as I roll my eyes and gaze around the waiting area, attempting to figure out why people are there. He groans and gets up to find a nurse or a doctor who can finally check on my leg. I take a big breath and rub my temples. Deep down, I'm glad he went to see a doctor because my ankle has swollen and become more painful than it was when we arrived. I would never have given him the satisfaction of being correct about me pushing my limits too hard and refusing to accept when my body attempts to tell me to stop or not do anything, putting me in situations like the one I'm in now. When I tried the online yoga session, it was meant to be a simple assignment, and I carefully followed every instruction, but my body was still fatigued and stiff from the hiking the day before. And, of course, my obstinate arse refused to listen to Tom when he advised me to take a break and try the class again a few days later. 

He sits down next to me and takes my hand in his, massaging the back of it with his thumb. "Alright, a nurse will be with us shortly," he says. Without saying anything, I kiss his shoulder and express my gratitude for his kindness and affection. "You don't have to hide it; I can tell how much pain you're in right now just by looking at the size and colour of your ankle, dear." 

I roll my eyes and lie my head on his shoulders, smelling his wonderful aroma and listening to his slow breathing. I attempt to ignore the puzzled looks of onlookers and patients who recognise him and are undoubtedly trying to figure out why he's there and with whom. We never told the gossip-hungry social media users and the deceitful newspapers about our relationship. Only those who were close to us knew about us, and we want it that way. 

"Miss Y/L/N, please come with me," a middle-aged nurse says, smiling gently and directing us to the examination room, where a doctor is already waiting for us. Tom assists me in standing and sitting up in bed, and then graciously moves away to give the nurse and doctor more room.

"What appears to be a problem, Miss Y/L/N?" He gets up from his desk and walks over to me, where he sits on a little stool and gently touches my ankle, causing me to groan in pain.

"She felt it would be a good idea to try an online yoga class with no prior experience in either an online class or yoga," Tom says, looking at me and then at the doctor.

"On my own, I can tell him what's wrong." I give my lover a mischievous scowl before returning my gaze to the doctor, who is attempting to examine my ankle without further injuring it. "But in a nutshell, that's what happened, huh”

"All right, let me see that ankle," he jokes, and a two-hour treatment begins, including a trip to another hospital level to have it x-rayed.

——-

"Careful" Tom assists me out of the car and supports me by placing my arm around his shoulder as we walk to the house. "You know what the nice thing in this?" I asked, holding a gorgeous pink plaster on my ankle up to the middle of my shin and a small bottle of pills in case "You know what the good thing in this?”

"No, but knowing you, you'll tell me in less than a minute," I say softly as I take a seat on the living room couch, my leg propped up next to me to relax.

"I can baby you, and you won't be able to stop me," he grins as he walks to the backyard to allow Willow in and feed her. She dashes inside, but Tom stops her and kneels to cup her cheek. "Willow, listen to me, mommy's ankle is injured, so you must be gentle around her," he says. "Please don't jump on mama or lay on her legs." He kisses Willow on the head and walks away. I chuckle from the living room, knowing well well that no one can stop Willow from sleeping on my leg.

———

"Tom?" you might ask. An hour later, I dial his number. After the painkiller knocked me out, I got a great nap, and when I awoke, Willow was sleeping on top of me, breathing noisily in my neck. I hear loud and rapid footsteps, so I suppose my partner is running down from our room or his study to the living area.

"Are you all right? Is there anything else you require? Do you have any discomfort?" I giggle quietly as he looks at me with a worried expression on his face. 

"I'm alright, but could you just get me a bottle of water?" I give him a friendly grin and gently massage the area behind Willow's ear. I smile at her as she groans a bit in her sleep.

Tom goes in and brings me my water before sitting down next to me and wrapping his arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer to his body, and kissing my cheek softly. 

"How are you doing?" he inquires.

"Much better," I say softly as I put my head on his shoulder, my eyes resting a bit. "Now that you're with me, sweetheart," I say softly as I kiss his lips and lean my head on his shoulder, resting my eyes a little.

"I've been thinking about us," she says. "We've been dating for a while, and if I'm being honest, you're the only person in my life who gives meaning to everything," Tom says, taking a deep breath. "Y/N, you're the light in my days, and I'm tired of always having to go over to your place, or waiting for you until you're off work and can come over.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to figure out if the butterflies and peculiar feeling in my stomach are due to the love and happiness this man has given me for almost two years, or to my concern about his intentions about this brief speech. I raise my eyes to him and admire his features.

"Y/N, would you like to move in with me and Willow?" he asks, sighing and looking down at me with genuine love in his ocean blue eyes. I give him a big smile and kiss his jaw. When my buddy put me up on a blind date with him two years ago, I was convinced he'd find someone else shortly. But no, this man has always been at my side, giving me his undivided attention, sharing his dreams and anxieties with me, and becoming not only my lover, but also my best friend. I knew I didn't want to be with anybody else the moment he revealed me his soul.

"I'd love to, babe," I say as I stroke his thigh and advance a little to lightly kiss his lips. He pulls me closer to him and places his palm on my cheek, stroking my skin with his thumb as he smiles against my lips and intensifies our kiss. I make a slight movement, and he instantly pulls away from me, frowning at my leg.

"No, no, no sexy time till your leg is better," he says, shaking his head and kissing the bridge of my nose. "Do you need extra pillow under your leg?" he asks. Or do you want me to take Willow off your lap?" 

"No, I want you to kiss me again," I say as I grip his chin and turn his face back to me.

"Okay, so, I brought additional pillows to our bed, so you may put your leg on them at night," he pecks my lips a few times before pulling away, prompting me to grunt in irritation. “My mom will be here shortly with soup and cookies, as she is concerned about your health. In addition, I composed a song about our hospital visit and-“

"Tom, I love you, but you talk too much sometimes" I chuckle and look at him. "You know, you could use your lips for something other than talking" Tom grins and leans in closer to my lips. "Oh, really?" he asks, softly touching his lips to mine. "I can think of a few things you don't need your leg for" he kisses the corner of my lips and pulls me onto his lap.

[indianamoonshine]

Strawberry | Chapter 12 | Flames

Summary: Will joins the family dinner. The night can hide many things.

Rating: (+18) for…situations.

A/N: I'm SO SORRY for the long hiatus. Please accept this peace offering (jealous!Din) as a token of my gratitude.

TAG LIST: @t3a-bag @lumimon47 @dodgerandevans @hallway5 @dancingwiththeplanets @steeevienicks @orneryscandallousandevil @ficthots @gaiusfrakkinbaltar @reginagina-blog1 @loveme-tenderly @lastphoenixrising @rattlemyb0nes @rebellou @alljusthumans @gaiuswrites @lovecatsnotpeople

The symposium of a midwestern dinner sounds a lot like Bach's work.

Difficult notes with high to reach places and then very low caverns just a moment later. The cicadas in the background are a nice touch; it's something Tchaikovsky might have wished he could capture. Silverware - old enough to be considered vintage now - clank against the porcelain dinner plates. Charlotte lets out her fae-like laughter and Rhea listens intently, eyes gazing dreamily upon Tommy as he carries on conversation. The house is full tonight.

You suppose it was out of the kindness of your father's heart to invite Will to this dinner. Everyone within a two mile radius usually came to these spur-of-the-moment things. Will was an old family friend and his father supplied yours with fresh goat's milk and chicken eggs, so it wasn't all that strange he came along. Still, it made the meal a bit more difficult to swallow. Quite literally.

Din is sitting directly across from you. You think it might have been intentional because Will chose to plop his happy ass right beside you, grinning that lopsided smile and charming his way out of the discomfort with a joke. You play the part by laughing when he tries to outwit everyone in the room or by asking him how the farm manages these days. Will isn't a cocky person by nature, but something about the rigidness of his composure when Din asks for the green beans makes you all too suspicious.

It doesn't make any sense. Will broke things off with you. If he were to be jealous, it wouldn't be for anything but pride and show. A year ago it would've bothered you that Will was cajoling the room for the sake of his vanity, but now it was just embarrassing for everyone involved.

"Din, do you remember the summer of '90?" your father asks across the table, clearly involved in another conversation that pertains to this anecdote.

The man across you hums and shakes his head with a reluctant grin. "I try not to," he fibs, cutting at his steak.

Your father chuckles. "I was nineteen and Din was..." he pauses. "Jeez, Din. How old were ya?"

"Seventeen."

"Ah, right! Rhea hadn't been born yet but Scarlett was pregnant with her by the end of the summer. That was our last free year, wasn't it? Well, mine anyway." You dad points his fork in Rhea's direction, a bit of steak dangling from its end. "And then you came along."

Rhea scoffs. "Well, geez. My bad for existing."

There's no darkness in either of their words so the exchange makes everyone at the table chuckle in good humor. Your father and Din go back and forth about the irresponsible and, well, illegal things that had been done that summer. Underage drinking. Trespassing. And somehow Din always got away with it.

"He never got us caught. Ever. I still don't know how you did it." Your father says to his friend, eyes wrinkling with a genuine smile. "Damn good thing too considering how much pot we smoked. It's a good thing my girls didn't get that rebellious streak."

A witty response is formed upon your lips but only until Will cuts you off.

"I don't know about that," he pipes in.

You're taken aback, quite literally tossing your head to gauge his interjection. "What?"

An indifferent silence hushes the dinner party. Your sisters chew their food carefully, eyes glued upon the scene before them like it was one of their soap operas. Your father awaits an explanation with a rather scandalized look upon his face, but Will's father - Clarence - doesn't seem at all fazed by any probability of illegal activity.

Will rolls his chin to serve you an exasperated look. "Oh, come on. We're adults now; we can come clean." He drenches his steak in more A1 sauce before revealing: "Your daughter was the one to egg the sheriff's house."

The entire room initially goes as silent as a graveyard before everyone chokes on a snort and begins to roar with laughter. Clarence slaps your father on the back as the two of them snicker like a pair of hyenas.

"Will!" you growl. "You said you'd take that to your deathbed!"

The pain in the ass beside you howls with laughter, holding his stomach, and having to pause from drinking his beer. "Daffi, it's fine. They can't do anything about it now."

"That's not the point!" you scowl.

Din is grinning from ear to ear, obviously amused by your humiliation. It was a childish thing to do but the sheriff was a dick in the worst way and you wanted him to know it. That was a hot summer - record breaking, actually - and by the time he'd woken, the egg had dried upon his lawn and across the face of his home. Ole' Sheriff Winslow scoured the town for weeks before finally abandoning his quest altogether.

"You got something to say, Mister Djarin?" you inquire playfully, scolding him with a fire in your eyes.

Din clears his throat and furrows his brows. "No, no. I wouldn't dare."

The two of you exchange a glance that was far too intimate for this dining room. His eyes softened upon meeting yours and his smirk was silly, drunk on something other than the beer in his hand. If it weren't for dear Will's additional reminiscence, you might've fallen under the spell lingering in the space between you.

"Yeah, that was a great summer. We had our first kiss that year, remember?"

You blink, all thoughts of Din's mouth upon yours fizzling away like steam. Instead, it is replaced with the frayed-edged memory of Will's rusted pick-up parked in the darkest corner of the local McDonalds. It was hardly a first kiss worth mentioning if it hadn't been for how good he was at it and how bad you were. Still: what the fuck?

You wanted to say just that but refrained from doing so. Instead you say, "Lots of awkward fumbling if I recall." It comes out sharp - petty. If he wanted to behave like a child, you could do it too.

Din's trying so desperately hard not to glare at Will. You can see it in the deliberate chug of his beer.

-

“What. The. Hell.”

“I know.”

“Wait,” Charlotte holds up a hand, expression dumbstruck. “I’m not done.”

You roll your eyes and scrub at a particularly stubborn dish, waiting for her dramatics to be over.

“…was that?” she finishes.

Rather anti-climactic.

“It’s Will,” you tell her, voice bored but teetering on the edge of fury. “It’s fucking Will. What do you expect?”

Charlotte shakes her head, eyes bulging with disbelief as she blinks over and over again as though trying to compute. She takes a dish from you, sopping wet, and begins to dry it with a rag. You know Charlotte is eager to gossip because she never - never - offers to help clean after supper.

Everyone else is carrying on from the awkward conversation by sitting at the bonfire and making pudgy-pies. It’s the kind of snack one eats when they need to forget about anything other than the impending weight gain. You watch from the window as Rhea slathers Nutella upon a piece of white bread and then some cut strawberries. Honestly, you could really go for one, but the idea of being anywhere near Will makes your skin crawl.

“Did he say anything to you? Before dinner? Or after? Like…why would he say something like that?” Charlotte carefully stacks the delicate plates atop each other. They clank against one another noisily.

Like cymbals within the symphony.

“Nope,” you tell her. “Not a word. I have no idea what’s gotten into him.”

Charlotte goes silent, rubbing at the plates until they’re dry as a bone, and then whispers, “He obviously knows.”

You square your jaw, glancing around to make sure no one is in the vicinity, and then let out a great sigh. “Yeah, I’m sure he does. I was all over Din at the bar.”

Your dear sister brightens at the mention of the night prior. She stops her drying and places her hands upon your shoulders so that you may look her in the eyes. You see mahogany. Deep. Rich. Full of life and excitement. In her eyes, it is proof that she’s a good spirit and in good health. (And…well, maybe a little tipsy, but that’s besides the point.)

“I like him. For you.” Is what she confesses. She places her hands upon your cheeks and squishes them together. You protest, taking her wrists and wrestling her, but giggling all the while. “I mean it. I think he adores you. And so do I.”

You nod in her grasp. “Okay, okay! I know, yes. I know!” you chuckle, breathless from the lack of air supply. She still has you in a chokehold. “Can you please let me go now?!”

Charlotte releases you from her trap and you gasp a throat-full of air, belly aching from laughter. The two of you embrace one another in a hug, attempting to lift the other, and then falling upon the linoleum - sore with serenity.

-

There is something stirring in Din.

It is a fire that has just been fanned from embers he sought to snuff out. But they hadn’t perished, despite how hard he had tried. The coals burned. He burned.

For you.

At the bar, Din ignored Will to the best of his ability; sort of like how one ignores an irritating bumblebee. Leave him be, Din had chanted. He’s harmless. After all, Din had years stacked against Will. How was it possible to be so insecure by this kid?

Because that’s essentially what he is, right? He’s so goddamned young; he looks as though he’s never taken a hit in his life. He’s too pretty, too put together. He’s firm skin and tight abs. And Din, well…

Din was not.

Din was old. He was well past forty years of age now, playing house with a woman over twenty years his senior. No matter how well he managed to keep the façade so believable, it would one day end in disaster - embarrassment. Heartache. And defeat. He can’t bear the thought.

It wasn’t like him. He’s never given a shit about anyone’s perception of him before, nevertheless mulled over the ex of a romantic interest. Not to say that Din’s ever felt the way he did with you; no one has even come close. Xian was his longest “situationship” and when it inevitably burst into flames, he didn’t bat an eye. (He wonders if that makes him a terrible person.) If his toxicity with Xian was worth anything, it was just a testament of his endurance.

But you. The world fucking blurs when you’re near.

So when Will - cocky as Din once was - utters unsolicited bullshit, it takes every ounce of dignity he has left to remain silent.

We had our first kiss that year, remember?

There is a primal urge to reach across the table and wring the smug expression from Will’s face, to grab you with an unfamiliar hunger, carry you across the acre, and toss you onto his bed and just…

No. That was brutish. He wasn’t like that. He couldn’t allow himself to feel possessive over you because you couldn’t be owned. He knew that. But that fire licked at his inner conscious until he had to excuse himself from dinner altogether.

The darkest parts of him pace during the bonfire, though he manages to sit still and interpret Will’s behavior. His youth glows betwixt the crazed flames, an ombré of red and orange dancing across everyone’s skin. Din watches, he listens, he notes every little thing like hunters do. Because for some reason - some ungodly, twisted reason - Din felt as though Will were a bounty now. It’s the only way he could feel superior.

“Daffodil!” Will calls out suddenly. “Get over here!”

The hinges in Din’s jaw pop as he clenches his teeth, grinding them so forcefully he thinks Rhea - who sits beside him - might hear. When you arrive from the house (he guessed you were cleaning up, just as you always do), he notes the skimpy length of your cotton shorts and…

Wait. Is that his shirt?

It is. It’s the very same shirt Din offered you after the rain debacle after the bar. It was one of his favorites despite how plain it was; just a grey t-shirt that fit snugly on him but dwarfed you entirely. It skimmed the top of your knees and pressed against the swell of your chest. That something within him growled once more.

“Come sit,” Will instructs, patting at his lap.

You hesitate. “I…”

Will chuckles, urging you with waggling fingers. “We’ve been like this since we were kids, Daffi. Come on.”

There’s a pathetic attempt to steady himself as Din watches you perch upon Will’s lap.

You’re wearing his shirt. You’re wearing his shirt. You’re wearing his shirt. You’re wearing his shirt…

The group chats a while longer, exchanging stories Din’s never heard, but none of it matters. You’re on another man’s lap. And despite Mark’s very obvious presence, he wants so badly to grip your wrist and run.

“I’ve seen you before,” Will says suddenly. He points a finger in Din’s direction, eyes a little hooded from drink. “Weren’t you at the bar a couple of nights ago?”

Those who partook in the rendezvous go silent. Rhea freezes and Charlotte blanches, looking towards their dear sister who’s pale in the face now. Mark, in his sheer oblivion, raises a brow. Din’s been in every intense situation imaginable, but something about now makes his gut churn.

He could loose you. Right now.

He’s about to lie, to make up some bullshit excuse about having ‘one of those faces’, but Rhea pipes in.

Her voice is strong and firm when she says, “What the hell are you talking about? He wasn’t there.”

Effortless. Shoulders sag, the tension subsiding thanks to Rhea’s impeccable skill.

“Strange. Swore I saw you with…” he shakes his head and shrugs. “Never mind.”

An artificial laugh - so sickly sweet that it’s almost impossible to digest - escapes your lips. “You must’ve drank too much. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

-

His kiss takes you by surprise.

You’re walking back to the house after the men have soiled the fire and everyone’s said their good nights when he just does it.

It’s covertly enough, but it’s shocking. A massive hand encircles your wrist and pulls you behind the shed out back, pressing you against the mossy wood and stealing the breath from your lungs. It’s the biggest risk the two of you have taken. For God’s sake, your father is just now walking inside the main house and Din’s mouth is attached to the hollow of your neck.

You’re dizzy, gripping his shoulders so tightly that the fabric of his shirt warps beneath your fingers. “Din,” you breathe out. He kisses you speechless again and you break for air. “Din, what’s the matter?”

He curses under his breath. It’s sharp. Fuck. It’s not angry, per say, but it is damaged. You weave your fingers through his hair as he settles his breathing, concentrating on the strings of your shorts that he fiddles with.

“I…” He sighs, pressing his nose against your cheek. His breath is warm and you shiver. “He touched you.”

He sounds ashamed. Embarrassed. You can’t imagine how difficult it must be to vocalize your self-doubt as someone who relishes in secrecy. He had a wall built around him and it was made of iron.

“Not like you,” you whisper shyly.

You had some walls of your own. He was tearing them down like that of Jericho.

There’s softness in the air. The two of you are silent, eyes closed, and mouths inches apart. Exchanging of breath. It’s an ancient form of intimacy.

You trust him. You trust him with your life.

His hand feels natural in your own as you lift it to your breast. The trembling of his fingers is almost endearing; the man was far older than you and he still shook at the mere touch of a woman.

“No one can touch me like you.” Your hands glide south, pressing underneath the fabric covering the raw parts of you, until you stop at the band of your panties. “No one can.”

It’s all he needs to hear.

Soon after, he kisses you fiercely, but not without nodding in agreement. And that very hand, which grazes so deliciously at your belly, finally dips.

Sparks.

[fappellmoan]

happy hawkins holiday hiatus to @mikewheelerthepaladin !! here’s a lighthearted fic + a playlist of songs i listened to a lot while writing, i hope you enjoy 🥳

& a big thank you to @sevensided for putting this together, it’s been super fun <3

It’s the first time he’s been in over a year, really, but he’d entertained the thought of asking Will over the summer, for one last challenge before he left. It never happened, everything went by too fast; and, honestly, Mike didn’t know how to talk to him with the goddamn weight of everything - hi, we’ve barely spoken in the last year and we just almost died, again, and now you’re moving away forever - wanna hang out?

It’s the first time he’s been in over a year, really, but he’d entertained the thought of asking Will over the summer, for one last challenge before he left. It never happened, everything went by too fast; and, honestly, Mike didn’t know how to talk to him with the goddamn weight of everything - hi, we’ve barely spoken in the last year and we just almost died, again, and now you’re moving away forever - wanna hang out?

It’d never been that hard.

And it sucked. The whole thing. Now that Will is gone, it gnaws at him daily that they could have had more time together. Or a proper goodbye, at least. Instead, he spent a lot of time last summer sitting around, figuring out how to approach El and his feelings toward her, and most of all, alone.

But now the Byers are coming home for Christmas. And staying with The Wheelers, on top of it all.

So, seeking some sort of cryptic universal answer to his life problems, Mike returns to the place of a lot of younger memories, of crowding around machines with Lucas and Dustin and Will, a conglomeration of shouting and booing and cheering when one of them topped a high score, of frantically patting down their pockets for a few extra coins.

All of these wistful memories come to halt, however, when he finds a familiar redhead occupying one of their favorite games.

Max glances at him through the screen. “What do you want?”

“Uh, to play?” Honestly, he doesn’t care; he’s not sure he could focus enough to win much anyway. “Kicking your ass would be a plus.”

“Yeah, as if.” Her gaze fixes back on the colorful pixels dancing in front of her face.

Okay, well, she’s not moving anytime soon. He could probably just walk away, but a part of him wants company, even if it’s from someone hellbent on disagreeing with him.

Even when the Party hangs out now, Mike finds himself bickering with Max over what movies to see, where to eat, nearly anything, even when he doesn’t really give a shit. It’s the principle of the thing, and she gets under his skin. 

Maybe it’s a good thing.

Mike sighs, leans against one of the neighboring games, and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I don’t really know why I’m here.”

“Well, if you’re looking for me to throw pity money at you, it’s not happening.” After a beat, and losing the level, she kicks at the machine and turns to him. “Now look what you made me do. All your moping and talking - I could’ve beaten that if you would just leave me alone.”

He offers a quarter.

“Forget it.”

“I’ll buy you a pop, then.” She glares at him. “Seriously, okay, this is the first and only olive branch. Take it or leave it.”

After a moment of scowling at him, her arms folded, she slowly concedes, a smug look taking over. “Okay. I’ll take it, Wheeler.”

“So, you’re stalking me at the arcade because… of nothing?”

Mike presses his lips into a line. “I’m not stalking you,” he says, “and it’s not - it’s not nothing. I was gonna ask Lucas or Dustin to come, but… I felt like I needed to be here alone.”

Max sips on her drink. “That didn’t work out.”

“Guess not.”

“So you did need to talk to someone.”

“Guess so.”

God, this is borderline painful. Sitting in a shoddy little booth across from Max, whom he never once intended to have a heart-to-heart with, is a new level of desperation. But here they are.

With the most grandiose sigh he’s ever heard in his life, Max straightens in her chair. “Well, I don’t love giving advice to annoying teenage boys, but I’ve been told I’m good at it. Advice, you know.”

Mike raises an eyebrow. “Was it El who said that, by chance?”

“Bite me.”

Amused, Mike smiles, and he slides the near-empty cup between his hands like a little game, something else to focus on. “Okay, fine, give me some advice.”

Max frowns at him like he’s the biggest idiot in the world. “Maybe give me a situation to work with?” She mutters something under her breath that he doesn’t bother with.

“Well, the Byers are coming home and staying with us, and I wanted to come up with something really nice to do, you know. I know that they’re really nervous because it’s… the holidays have been rough, the past few years.” He finishes his drink and stares at the lid. “They almost refused. So, I dunno, I figured I could do something to make them feel like it’s still home.”

“Oh,” Max nods, finally breaking into a slight smile, “well, cool, you could set up something really romantic for El! She’d love it.”

Right. The girlfriend. 

He had no clue where the hell they left things when the Byers moved. About a month ago, Mike called to tell her the distance was confusing and they might need to take a break. He figured she would’ve told Max because, from his understanding, they spoke on the phone on an almost daily basis.

“Sure - yeah, yeah, that’s - it’s a good idea. For sure.”

Max falls back into a confused squint. “Was there something else you had in mind?”

Mike isn’t sure how to get it out without sounding like a total airhead. So he copes with it the best way he can. “You know what, this was dumb. I’ll figure it out myself.” He grabs his jacket and stands to leave.

“No, no, Mike - I want to help.” She’s looking up at him with a genuinely nice expression, holding out a hand to stop him from fully up and leaving. “I’m really good at this stuff, just let me know what I can do. No judgment. I swear.”

“I have to get home tonight anyway,” Mike says cautiously. “Told my mom I’d help with dinner.”

“Can I come over tomorrow?”

He frowns, and something digging at his stomach makes him respond with, “Why do you care?”

Max’s jaw sets. She stands up to meet his eye level and sets a look on him. “Even if I didn’t, even if I couldn’t care less about you, Mike, I care about El. And Will. And I want to be a part of their homecoming. So maybe you could figure out a way to not be a dick about it.” She snatches her drink cup and storms off from the table, leaving Mike to scramble after her with more apologies.

He’s gotta get better at this whole ‘girls’ thing.

He catches up to her outside. “Okay, listen - come over after school tomorrow. We can meet outside by the stairs.”

She barely turns to him, says, “Fine,” and then hops on her bike and rides away.

That’s how Mike ends up with Max in his basement, slowly walking and examining his things, but not touching any of them, thankfully.

It’s going alright, thus far. A part of him feels like he should reach out to Lucas and Dustin, too, since they’re also Will’s best friends. But something about this… works. He and Max can’t seem to stay entirely civil in each other’s company, but she gets something. And she hasn’t brought up El even once since yesterday.

“So, I’m gonna come up with a really cool campaign - well, I’ve been working on it, and I can tell you about it - “ Max lifts herself on tiptoe in his peripheral vision, “ - but anyway, we can pull an all-nighter, if everyone’s up for it, and make snacks and drinks and stuff, and we can have movies on for you guys, and I thought I might even look for some costumes because I really think Will would get a kick out of it. I can put lights up, too - “

“You draw?”

Max’s back is to him, as she’s looking over his wall of posters and pinned pictures. As he steps closer, he realizes her eyes are fixed on a sketch that definitely bears some resemblance to him.

“No, Will sent me those,” he says quickly, not wanting to seem like a giant narcissist, because Will’s drawing is - how can he say it - beautiful. “He’s been using charcoal a lot recently, he told me he got some new art stuff. I think he wants to send one of all of us.”

Max turns to him, and he can’t tell if she’s tearing up for some reason, but she quickly wipes any sign of tears away. “That’s so neat,” is all she says at first. There’s a small silence between them, and she’s just looking at him, and he has no idea what the hell he should say. “He’s such a good person,” she adds quietly, “I wish I got the chance to really know him.”

Mike’s breath hitches for a few seconds. “Yeah. I mean, he mentioned hanging out with you a few times.”

A smile lifts the girl’s cheeks. “Yeah, to bitch about you, mostly.”

“Hey!” he protests, but he can’t help but smile too, this time. This might just be their most pleasant interaction to date. “He never mentioned that.”

“I don’t know how he could, all you freakin’ do is talk.”

“Whatever.” Mike messes with some Christmas crafts on the table, holding them up in his vision to see where they might fit in the basement. He clears his throat. “You know, El and I, uh - we split.”

Max nods slowly. “She said you guys don’t call much.”

“No, we didn’t. I mean, I don’t even call Will, we just write.” He leans against the table, eyes glazing over as he looks over years of memories, dorky craft nights, and shitty school projects that he or his mom made a point to keep. “It’s too hard to talk - to either of them, you know. I didn’t think I could hear their voices without…”

Max cuts him off. “I get it.” She crosses over to the table, helping him pull apart old paper snowflakes. “I’m just the opposite. I’m scared if I don’t talk to them, I’ll convince myself it was all fake. And maybe it’d be for the better, but I’m glad I knew them. Even if only for a little while.”

Mike bites down on his lips, attempting to bury all the emotion threatening to spew out of him. “Yeah.”

Max finally looks up at him, and though they seem to have shared a moment, she snaps back out of it. “All offense, Mike, these are ugly as shit. I’m helping you make new ones, okay?”

“It’s for the memory!”

“No more living in the past.” She raises her eyebrows at him, and he pinches his face in annoyance, so she says, “Okay, you can put them up, in like, little corners, but we’re making new ones. Surprise. Work with me here, Michael.”

“It’s my basement, Max.”

“Did you or did you not ask for my help?”

Mike blinks. “Not really.”

She throws a crafty paper star at him. “Shut up, you’re glad I’m here.”

He shakes his head and moves on, but though he may never admit it, a part of him really is glad.

Weeks pass in what feels like a span of days or maybe hours, with Mike and Max sorting out their surprise plans with a typical amount of bickering - but hey, they get it done. Max has lots of opinions about decorations and music that make Mike roll his eyes, but she’s got a good eye and she offers to help with baking, which is not a strong suit of his. Yes, they throw a lot of streamers at each other, and threaten to storm out every other hour, but it gets done.

And the day is finally here.

Mike pulls himself into his best festive sweater and eyes himself in the mirror. He messes with his hair, though the long, wavy curls never seem to fall exactly into place - maybe growing it out was a mistake - and tugs at the creases of his sweater, letting out a huffy breath. None of it is working with him. When he can’t stand looking at himself anymore, he dashes down to the kitchen to help his mom with desserts.

She smiles when he plops into a seat. “You okay, honey? You seem a little tense.”

Mike jolts. “Uh, yeah, just excited.”

“Good! Joyce said the kids haven’t stopped talking about the trip for weeks.”

Great. “I hope we live up to the hype.”

“Oh, Mike. You know you don’t have to try that hard.” Karen stops frosting for a moment to look at him. “Will’s your best friend. El is excited to see you,” she nudges at him, and he coughs out a nervous laugh, “and Joyce thinks you’re an angel-”

“God, mom-”

“I’m serious. Don’t worry so much.” She leans forward on her forearms. “I know you think every problem in the world is on you, but it’s not. It’s enough just to be around the people you love. If anything, you’ve gone overboard.”

Overboard. Hopefully, it’s not too much.

Finally, he caves, exhaling slowly with a simple, “Okay.” He stays beside her, tapping his fingers, and eventually ruining a gingerbread man’s face until she notices and smacks his hand away.

There’s a knock on the door, and while Mike hops to his feet, his mother calls out, “Come in!” earning a panicked look from him. She mouths, ‘Chill,’ but he still half-jogs to the door and throws it open.

Nancy calls down the stairs, “Who is it?”

It’s Max, brandishing a few small wrapped gifts.

“Hello, sunshine,” she says. After a moment, “It’s great to see you too, Michael, allow me to invite myself in.”

“It’s just Max,” Mike calls back. He steps aside, and Max brushes past him, dropping her gifts by their tree and running into the kitchen. 

“Hi, Mrs. Wheeler!”

“Hey, Max, Merry Christmas!”

Mike’s mom seemed to think Max was one of the most charming people on the planet, something they frequently disagreed on, but he can’t be mad at their pleasant chatter right now.

Especially not when the next knock comes so soon.

Probably just Lucas and Dustin, dragging their feet as usual.

Mike opens the door, prepared with a quippy remark for his friends, but his stomach drops immediately.

It’s Will. Holding a bunch of luggage.

Mike is caught up in everything about him. He’s taller. New, floppy hair, tousled and messy in the biting snowy winds. His forearms exposed as his bags push against his jacket. Will.

The boy smiles at him. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Mike manages.

Will looks past him with a tiny wave, and Mike turns to see Max beaming and waving back, and then Max slips back into the kitchen and Will returns his gaze to Mike. “Can I come in?”

“Hey, Mike!” Joyce interrupts from the car, straining to grab something in the backseat. “Merry Christmas, honey!”

“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Byers!” Mike, finally catching up his brain-to-movement reactions, moves to let Will in. “Yeah, come in. I’m gonna, uh, go help your mom.”

“Cool.”

He immediately forgets why he’s moved and attempts to step out as Will crosses the threshold, almost knocking him over, so Mike grabs his arms to stabilize with a, “Sorry - uh - whoops, haha, don’t fall,” and Will chuckles and shifts a bag to his shoulder, saying, “It’s alright,” and Mike spends his walk to the Byers’ car trying not to curse himself out.

“Oh, Mike, thank you, sweetie,” Joyce grunts, pulling a heavy tote bag from the floor of the car. “Can you carry this?” Mike nods and takes it from her easily, offering his arms out for extra luggage. Together, with Jonathan, who greets him with a, “Merry Christmas, man,” they manage to get everything inside in one trip. Mike hardly notices El rummaging through the trunk until she comes stumbling along with a basket full of gifts.

Finally, they’re all inside, and only a beat goes by before Nancy comes bounding down the stairs to greet Jonathan, and Joyce is grinning around at everybody, and then Karen rushes in from the kitchen with excited greetings.

“It is so good to see you,” Joyce says, opening her arms up to Mike for a hug. “You’ve grown so much-'' she looks at Karen and mutters, “-so much-” then looks back at Mike. “We’ve missed you all.”

“I’ve missed you guys too,” Mike says, “I’m glad you decided to come.”

“We couldn’t miss it. Figured it’s best that we’re together, you know.” Her expression falters, but she takes a breath and carries on with moving bags and ‘Merry Christmases.’

Joyce and his mom wind up chattering, and Karen takes off her apron to help transfer some luggage to the spare room. Nancy takes Jonathan’s hand and heads upstairs, grabbing one of his bags from the ground.

Will seems to have disappeared into the kitchen with Max, leaving his things behind, so it’s just Mike and El.

Mike takes in a deep breath.

It wasn’t an ugly breakup; honestly, El seemed unfazed. Their calls were little more than small talk about their days, most of the time, and even though he thought they might hold onto their past, everything they’d been through… it seemed to work best that they didn’t.

“Hey, Merry Christmas.”

El smiles easily. “Merry Christmas, Mike.” She lifts the basket slightly for acknowledgment. “Can these go by the tree?”

“Yeah, yeah, go for it.”

El nods and slips by the couch over to the tree, carefully laying out the gifts. After a few moments of Mike awkwardly leaning against the couch arm, thinking up something to say - thank god she didn’t seem too focused on him - Max walks in, her mouth stuffed with a truffle.

“El!” She darts over to the tree, and El jumps up, eyes bright, immediately throwing her arms around the girl’s shoulders. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” El giggles. “I brought you a gift.”

“You too. I can’t wait for you to see it. But first, you have to try one of these sweets Mrs. Wheeler’s making. They’re like frickin’ heaven.” She holds out the last bite of her own, and El takes it from her hand, eyes lighting up mischievously as she bites into it.

“It’s amazing.”

“I know. I think we should go sample some of the others.”

Mike calls out to their backs, “You guys better leave some for later on,” and in response, hears Max mimic him. He rolls his eyes and stands up from the couch.

And then it’s just him and Will, who’s beaming at him, seemingly amused by their banter.

Okay, Mike, now or never. “Uh, I’ll show you downstairs.”

“We’re not staying in your room?” Will asks simply, crossing over to retrieve his duffel bag.

“We totally can, I just have something I wanted to show you.”

Will nods. “Oh, okay, cool.”

Mike assists with a smaller bag and leads him to the basement door; before he runs down the stairs, he catches Max’s eye, and she gives him a thumbs up and mouths, ‘You got this.’ Deep breaths. At that moment, he’s incredibly thankful for her presence. 

He watches as Will follows him down, slower, glancing around at the familiar surroundings. His eyes catch on everything Mike and Max put together over the past few weeks, and his footsteps grow slower as he takes it all in.

Streamers of all festive colors and off-balance fairy lights hang along the corners of the basement, phrases of ‘Welcome home,’ hand-cut and pasted on the front wall; at the table, a game mat and figures sit in wait, silly hats placed in front each chair; even the TV is prepared with a Santa hat, the couch covered in blankets and pillows, a few sleeping bags folded on the floor.

“Mike,” Will says quietly, stepping in a small circle, “what is all this?”

“Your homecoming party.” Mike is all jitters; he leans against the wall and shoves his hands in his pockets to disguise any visible shakes. “You like it?”

Will finally looks straight at him, an indiscernible look painted on his face. “Yeah,” he says, nodding rapidly, “yeah, it’s great - but we, uh,” he swallows and shakes his head, “we don’t, um, have to play D&D. I mean-”

“I don’t know, Will,” he ventures to step away from the wall, taking slow steps over to the table. Will follows every move. “I mean, I was really excited to have you back, even just for a little bit. We all were.” He reaches the table and leans back on his hands. “Figured having our cleric back warranted some festivities.”

Will shakes his head, runs his hands along his face, and turns away. The bit of confidence Mike has slowly starts to trickle.

“Is it okay?”

Will shakes out of his stupor and chuckles. “It’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. You’ve truly outdone yourself, Michael.” He lifts himself on tiptoe to look at decorations on top of Mike’s shelves. “Are these from our big craft night, like, years ago?”

The horrible crayon work makes Mike smile - they made half of the snowmen evil, citing a Great Abominable Snowman War, and gave them wicked frowns and smiles, claws on their stick hands. “Yeah.”

“I didn’t know you kept them.”

“I keep everything.” An awkward chuckle breaks from his chest. “Not everything, like, a hoarder or whatever, but - “

Will simply smiles and pushes himself forward toward the back wall, brushing past Mike, to his different pinups. He fixates on the sketch of Mike that he’d sent about a month back. “You know, you should probably take this down. I don’t think you’ll hear the end of it from Lucas and Dustin if you don’t.”

“Screw ‘em.”

“Right.” Will quirks his eyebrow and moves to sit in his designated chair, right next to where Mike is currently resting. “So, they know about D&D?”

“They know.” Mike smiles, and looks at the floor, right where their legs brush up against each other. “They seem pretty excited to have the party back together. To remind you of how badass your first one was,” he adds.

Will peers up at him for a moment before quietly saying, “I never joined another one.” Mike meets his eye for a moment, then, threatened by the silence that follows, clears his throat and distracts himself with a particularly interesting notch in the wood paneling. “Did you guys find someone else?”

“No, no,” Mike assures him. “We haven’t touched any of this stuff. It’s not the same.”

A silence settles between them, one that neither seems to know how to navigate. But Will keeps his gaze steady on Mike, trying to breach some barrier, to fall back into their usual ways.

Something is different, though; it’s not uncomfortable, it never could be, but it’s something intimidating. Will seems more comfortable, at least; he’s not shying away from anything Mike throws at him.

And he tries to break the silence first. “Y’know - “

“Will,” Mike cuts him off, and he’s not sure what he’s saying, or where he’s going with it, but he knows he’s supposed to say this. His name. “I need you to know that I missed you.”

Will blinks at him, cocks his head. “I missed you too,” he says matter-of-factly.

The words are eating at him, right there on the edge of his mind, and Will looks almost concerned and now Mike just wants to drop it because that’s not what he wanted. But he can’t, not now. “I missed you the most.” It sounds so juvenile. “More than everyone else. I missed you before you even left. I just didn’t know how to say it.” He breathes in and out, focusing on Will’s cheeks, the tip of his nose, anything but his eyes. When Will doesn’t say anything, the rest just spills. “I missed you when our first first day of school apart came and passed, and I didn’t even call. I missed you at homecoming. And,” he licks his lips, not really sure where his speech is heading, “I know you had to go, it’s fine. We’ll figure it out. But I feel like we haven’t been on the same page in a long time. So, I missed you, and I love you, and that’s that.”

Will looks at him funny, and then his face softens into something like laughter, and Mike is genuinely about to run and throw up somewhere, but then the boy closes his eyes and says, “I love you too.”

Mike blanches. “I don’t think I said that.”

“Oh, you definitely did.”

“Oh,” he nods, mind spinning, “well, you know…”

Will stands to be at Mike’s level, leans forward on his knees. Mike stops breathing. “I do,” he says, “but tell me again.”

Mike swallows down a breath of courage and suggests, “I think I might like you.” His eyes flit to Will’s lips, then back to his eyes. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll allow it,” Will says, a bright smile causing lines near his eyes. Mike smacks at his arm, nervous laughter coming out with a quiet, ‘Shut up.’ Will moves so he’s resting his fingertips on the table. Inches away.

“Same page, then?” Mike asks.

“Same page, yeah, for sure.”

Mike nods absently, distracting himself with the strings on Will’s sweatshirt. “So I don’t sound crazy?”

Will laughs. “I dunno. I always counted on us going crazy together. Figured we might have a few extra years, but hey, I’m all in.”

And then Mike is flashed back to a night on his couch just over a year ago. Knees knocking together, shared smiles. A promise.

So much has changed.

He wants to know what Will meant. A future of being in each other’s lives, maybe, getting old and senile and batshit crazy. Always being there.

He never dared to think about it before.

“So what now?”

Will shrugs. He dips his head to meet Mike’s eyes with his own. “What do you want, Mike?”

And finally, he thinks he might know.

Or maybe he’s always known.

He scoots forward, takes Will’s face in his hands, and kisses him. It’s just a quick press of their lips, but in that moment, he knows a few things for sure. His heartbeat is going a mile a minute, and Will must be able to feel it; it’s absolutely exhilarating, surreal, insane that he’s kissing his best friend; and, he is definitely in like, or maybe love, with Will Byers.

He’ll probably love him forever.

When Mike pulls back and his eyes flutter open to see Will, flushed, blinking back at him, slightly dazed, he doesn’t want to pull away at all. He did that. Mike’s hand remains on his jaw, lax, and he runs his thumb along Will’s bottom lip, curious to see his reaction, curious about a lot, now.

Will lets out a breathy chuckle. “Wow,” he mumbles, “that’s new.”

“Yeah.” Mike exhales shakily, takes one of Will’s hands, and says, “Merry Christmas, Will.”

“Yeah, Merry Christmas.”

The world doesn’t seem to fall apart like Mike thought it might if he ever got to this point, so, that’s nice.

“So…” Mike begins carefully, “you’re gonna have to be slow with me here. This is sort of a lot for me.”

“Me too,” Will replies simply. He squeezes Mike’s hand. “But we’ll figure it out.”

“Totally.”

Will takes his cheeks in his hands and smiles into a very gentle kiss, his fingers curling into the hair at the nape of Mike’s neck. It’s soft and sweet and lingering - but not for too long, as moments later the door upstairs busts open and shouts of, “BYERS!” from their dear friends sound through the air, and Mike and Will jump apart, equally startled and laughing.

“Down here!” Will calls out. He looks at Mike, smiles, offers, “To be continued?” and as he walks past, he leans in, just to leave a quick peck on Mike’s cheek.

And all Mike can do is laugh and shake his head and run after him to meet their friends; Lucas and Dustin are horribly late to the surprise, but they collide into Will the second they see him, shouting over each other, ‘What’s going on, dude?’ ‘Merry Christmas!’ ‘You’ve missed so much,’ and everyone is grinning and chattering, and it’s awesome.

Max approaches him, watching all of the madness, smacks a hand to his shoulder, and says, “You did good, Wheeler.”

“Yeah, I did.” She punches his arm lightly, laughing, so he adds, “thank you for everything. Seriously.”

“I think we should work together more often.”

Mike scoffs into a laugh, and says, “Yeah, guess so.”

Max rolls her eyes, but at least now they’re actually laughing in each other's company. It’s great progress from just a few weeks ago.

After a minute of watching the boy’s shenanigans, Max smiles. “Well, Merry Christmas, anyway.”

“Merry Christmas,” he responds, and he watches as she jumps up onto a kitchen stool, chatting and giggling with El.

With everyone back together again, finally, Mike feels really alive; so, he jumps in with all the excited shouting and group hugs and bickering, and celebrates the merriest Christmas he can remember in a long time.

[drawlfoy]

okay so i apologize beforehand for how long this is going to be but here we go,

uhhh hi! it's you favorite anon! do you remember me? it's been a while.

how are you? i genuinely hope you're doing well and settling into uni comfortably, i really missed talking to you.

i think you're on hiatus right now and might not be checking your inbox, but when you do, i hope this message find you.

so... as you know detention retention is literally one of my favorite fics if not my #1 favorite. if you also remember. i had only read the first two parts and didn't read the 3rd part (the first part of the finale) because i was waiting for it to be fully posted. but sadly by the time it was posted (august 25th i think?) uni was already around the corner and i had to clean my depression room since i have put it off all summer, and by the time i finished cleaning august 28th (yes, it took me 3 days to clean my depression room, no you're not allowed to judge me) i went back to uni literally the next day. and as a college student yourself, you know how it literally swallow every hour of every single day, and i got busy and didn't have time to read it. and even tho i have a quiz AND a midterm this week (and i haven't studied for either yet) i decided it's finally time to read it (also, the ocotber blues were starting to get to me & i needed some kind of serotonin so i don't fall in this month's hole again, gosh i hate october.) sorry about the rant anyway,

i finally started reading the first part of the finale and here are some comments/ notes i wrote while reading that i thought i should share! (btw i read the whole thing from the beginning to the end, but i am only sharing notes about the 1st & 2nd part of the finale since i already shared my thoughts with you about the first two chapters) enjoy!

-the "you’re just kinda not having a great time during this chapter" in the author's note made me giggle loudly, also dark harry??? sign me

tf up (i should note that i am saying this pre-reading)

-"she was at least not going to fail Draco...not when the rest of the world had betrayed him"

s t o p🥺 i always think about that if headcanon 6th year draco malfoy had someone, anyone who cared about him this much and showed it? so many things would've changed. my baby had to go through all of that alone and it breaks my heart.

-never mind harry can fuck himself lmao

-WHAT THE FUCK HARRY??? WHY IS HE ATTACKING US

-"He’d cast a protection spell on her. In the middle of a duel that she was hardly formally a part of, he cast a protection spell on her" it might be because i am mentally ill, but i am NOT okay

-"Her cry of pain prompted Draco to immediately turn his attention from Harry, angling his body towards her instead, an indistinguishable expression etched into his face as he took in the bloodstained white sleeve of her arm." MISS GIRL GO SLOW ON MY FEELINGS I CANT TAKE ALL OF THIS AT ONCE?!?!??1?1?1

-"SECTUMSEMPRA!" OH FUCK YOU POTTER

-"A lump began growing in her throat again as she realized just how lonely she was." haha way too realitable bestie...

-aw! i love the little back story of how we became friends with ron!!!

-STOP YOU ACTUALLY LISTENED TO MY SUGGESTION AND MADE IT WORK FOR LUNA TO BE PART OF THE FANFIC??? THIS MADE ME SO HAPPY THANK YOU!!! <3

-"No wonder they call her Loony Lovegood." oh hell nah, that is some shit that hermione might say, never us tho. i would NEVER disrespect my girl luna like that

-"I was actually coming here to have a chat with him about you,” said Luna. “I think it’s terribly unfair how your friends are treating you. I thought that Marvin might know what to do. He always seems to." 🥺 uhh you did luna so good & fair in this story! that's definitely something luna lovegood would say

-"My mother had this saying about kindness,” said Luna softly. “She told me that it’s easy to be kind to people you already love. But you can really tell how caring someone is by how they treat those who are different." wow.

-UHH BESTIE THE LUNA PART WAS AMAZING THANK YOU FOR LISTENING TO MY SUGGESTION AND ADDING HER I ENJOYED EVERY PART OF OUR INTERACTION WITH HER!!!

-the whole broom closet scene? CHEFS KISS

-"would choose you over anyone else here and that’s scary and ohmygodIcan’tstop--" THE SECOND HAND EMBARRASSMENT PLEASE

-"using his free hand so he could thumb away the tears that were collecting on her cheeks." MISS GURL

-"Purity" LMAO

-"You have really nice hands" kms

-"Her words stopped abruptly as Draco silenced her--not with his hand, but by placing his lips on hers" OH MY GOD I THINK I FORGOT HOW TO BREATH HELP KAKASKAKSJSKAJSJ

-everything about the veritaserum scene. wow just wow. that scene own my ass.

-"No." CAN I PLEASE HAVE ONE GOOD THING IN MY LIFE?? i am begging

-the part where draco was sending her mixed signals? it hit me close to home bestie😁 i have been, there done that lmao

-THE ENDING OF THE FIRST PART OF THE FINALE BROKE ME WHERE IS MY HAPPY

ENDING DEE???

-oh my god. the fact that you mentioned me at the end of the chapter is making my heart do things sksjaksjsk :( this made me sooo happy you don't even realize, to be mentioned by one of my favorite fanfic writers saying that i inspired them with things in MY COMFORT FANFIC? :( made my whole fucking month. scratch that, made my whole fucking year. this means a lot to me, and this is definitely my favorite chapter, thank you dee :(<3

-------------

-last chapter. god i am so not ready to say goodbye.

-i love ron :(

-lmao it was hermione that i couldn't stand in this fic but now harry is seriously getting on my nerves

-why are we apologising to HER? like okay i get it we have feelings for her childhood bully but it's like we can't control how we feel??? meanwhile she's been a terrible friend to us and that's definitely something she CHOSE to do

-"Now that she knew he only saw her as a friend, it only hurt so much more when he would chivalrously offer to walk her back to the library at night or say polite hellos to her in the halls." BESTIE THIS FANFIC IS STARTING TO FEEL TOO MUCH LIKE MY REAL LIFE HAHAHA I AM NOT OKAY

-"There was this moment before either of you noticed I was there and it just made me sick to my stomach to watch. Merlin, the way he…" Harry trailed off, squeezing his eyes shut. "The way he looked at you. It just boiled my blood." a love triangle with jealous harry and draco??? sign me tf uppp

-"I didn’t know where else to go." SLAPS EVERYTIME

-"I’m not about to confess to you again literally right after being rejected," she snipped back, pulling her hands from his grip in a moment of unexpected humiliation. "I’m not that stupid." this feels like a personal attack lmao

-"I’m kidnapping your mom." LMAOOO???

-not him getting upset that she didn't get that he likes her too like buddy???🤨you rejected her what were you expecting, of course she is going to brush all of these things off because she doesn't want to look pathetic SO MAN UP AND TELL HER TO HER FACE

-his family ring. IM NOT OKAY

-i really love our friendship with ron aw

-"She didn’t know it then, but she wouldn’t be returning. At least not for a long time." why does my heart hurt lol

-She didn’t even get to finish her sentence before he crossed through the door, swept her up, and kissed her with conviction. i am soft.

-"I was wondering when you’d show up," he whispered when he pulled away.🥺

-She shrugged. “Nothing. Just kiss me again.”

"And so he did." i can't believe it's actually over :(

-------------

i genuinely feel speechless. finishing this feels so bittersweet. this fanfic will always have a special place in my heart. the characters, the situations, the feels and even you. it all feels so real and it touched me so deeply. thank you dee for writing something so good that i can use to escape from this world when things get hard.

from the bottom of my heart, thank you <3

sending love & hugs as always x

-🌟

hi there :) first of all, i’m so sorry for how long i took to respond to this! i took a long break from my blog bc school has genuinely been kicking my ass (never take graph theory if you don’t have to 😶). it sounds like you too understand this v well sndksjd. and of course i would literally never judge you for having to clean your room that is v v relatable 😭 i was reading this while i was walking around campus and literally smiling like an idiot the whole time. thank you for making my entire month—i really do appreciate the ideas you gave me for the last two parts :)

how is uni doing ???? is it getting a little better? i would love to hear from you even tho i know it took me a long time to respond (i’m going to be back on this account more!!)

[carlosgabrielruiz]

PINKERTON - 33 1/3 Proposal Part 6

CHAPTER 4 Many Rivers to Cross:A Brief History of Rivers Cuomo

For most people, Weezer begins and ends with Rivers Cuomo. Period. Point blank. Rivers Cuomo is undoubtedly the brains and heart behind the band – without him, there would simply be no Weezer. Rivers is the primary songwriter, lyricist, band director, and de facto Great Leader (although it should be noted that in the early days he shared some of those songwriting duties and credits with Matt Sharp and original guitarist Jason Cropper). 

Rivers was born in Manhattan on June 13, 1970. He grew up in upstate New York in the Buddhist Zen Center where his father was a farmer. In 1975, his father left the family and Rivers moved to Connecticut with his mother and brothers to live in Yogaville on an ashram farm.(1) He grew up as a quiet and shy child only later to become a metalhead with an outgoing love for Kiss and Van Halen.

When he turned 18 Rivers moved to L.A. and started to officially make a go of it in music. He got a job at Tower Records and was introduced to drummer Pat Wilson. (2) They became friends and formed a band called Fuzz. Rivers moved into Pat’s apartment which he shared with Matt Sharp, who was a talented multi-intrumentalist. Matt soon decided to join them and they embarked on an odyssey that would eventually make musical history. 

Valentine’s Day of 1992 was a momentous occasion for the newly formed, yet still-unnamed, new band because that was the day that Rivers Cuomo (lead guitar), Matt Sharp (bass), Jason Cropper (guitar), and Pat Wilson (drums) first gathered together to rehearse and record their sessions. The band “got together at T.K. rehearsal studios, in West LA, and rehearsed for either 3 or 4 days straight.”(3) The demo tape that was made during the session featured a list of all the potential band names they were toying with at the time including the initial band name “Fuzz”, as well as “Meathead”, “Outhouse”, “Hummingbird”, “the Big Jones” and “This Niblet”.

Things moved quickly for the band from there. A little over a year after their first official rehearsal, the band - now officially named Weezer - signed a major label record deal with Geffen Records. The band had hoped to self-produce their debut, but the suits at Geffen were not going to let that happen. Eventually, the band picked Cars’ frontman, Ric Ocasek, to handle production on the record. According to Rivers Cuomo, “The record company was really pushing us to work with a producer, so we figured that if we had to have somebody in the studio with us, it might as well just be someone who writes good songs – and the Cars’ first record just rules.” (4) 

The band went to Electric Ladyland studios in New York to work on their record. Everything was going great up until it wasn’t. There were internal problems with the guitarist Jason Cropper that led to Rivers firing him from the band. According to Ric Ocasek, “He (Rivers) called me when the record was finished, the day before we were supposed to start mixing, and said, ‘Listen, I just fired the guitar player.’ So I said, ‘What are you gonna do now?’ He’s like, ‘I want all of his parts off the record.’” Luerssen (2004)

With two days before mixing was due to begin in New York, Sharp and Cuomo called Brian Bell.5 He auditioned on tape and was hired to replace Jason. But it was too late to in the game to fly him out to re-record all of Jason’s guitar parts. Under the gun, and with only a day of studio time left before mixing was slated to begin, Rivers re-recorded all of the guitar parts himself (even though Brian is credited on the record).

The Blue Album was released on May 10th, 1994. The 10-track LP provided a “new roadmap for alt-rock following the death of Kurt Cobain and the conclusion of grunge’s first era.”(5) The catchy power-pop record with hook-laden choruses and kitschy Spike Jonze directed videos was an overwhelming success. It would invade the mainstream and go on to sell over 3 million records in the U.S. alone. The band went on a seemingly never-ending tour to promote the record. 

Rivers struggled with the newly found fame and success that the Blue Album had brought the band. He was “frustrated by the limitations of rock and the lifestyle of touring around on a bus and playing the same songs over and over.” Cohen (2015). So he did what most people in his position would do, he put the band on a hiatus and enrolled in Harvard to study classical music. 

But before the semester started, Rivers decided to fix his right leg, which was two inches shorter than his left leg. The surgery on his right leg left him in agonizing pain. It would be a long recovery. During his first year at Harvard Rivers’ right leg was encased in a metal frame that would require him to adjust and tighten the screws daily in order to elongate the bone.(6) He became hooked on painkillers and opioids while trying to manage the pain.

As he told The New York Times. “I grew a long beard and walked around with a cane… The only time I could write songs was when my frozen dinner was in the microwave.” Rockland (2006) “Where I was emotionally … I went to a more serious and dark place.” Runtagh (2019). 

Alone and in pain, Rivers was listening to a lot of classical music and he kept coming back to the opera Madame Butterfly by Puccini. “One of my favorite operas by him was Madama Butterfly, specifically when the role was played by Maria Callas,” he recalled to Pitchfork. “On tour, I would listen to her every night after the show and be so moved by the depth of emotion and sadness and tragedy. It really was calling to me, like, “Come on, Rivers. You can go there. You can go much further with your music than ‘The Sweater Song’ or ‘Buddy Holly’.” Cohen (2015)

His deeply personal and emotional lyrics were raw, to say the least. He opened himself up to a level of honesty, anger, pain, and emotional truth that was only hinted at within the Blue Album’s casual, ironic detachment. But make no mistake, that anger and honestly was always there just below the surface, only it was wrapped around a bouncy hook with a singalong chorus. 

With a dozen or more new songs ready to record, Weezer decided to head to the studio. Only this time, they would self produce the new record themselves. They wanted a feel that was similar to their live shows that would better capture the power and energy of their new songs. The resulting record was a “grittier, slightly darker sound that was more Pixies than the polished power-pop Ric Ocasek had helped the band realize on the Blue Album.” (7)

A few months before the album was slated for release, Rivers Cuomo “issued a precarious warning to the band’s fan club about his mental state during the writing process:” Braun (2016).

There are some lyrics on the album that you might think are mean or sexist. I will feel genuinely bad if anyone feels hurt by my lyrics but I really wanted these songs to be an exploration of my ‘dark side’ – all the parts of myself that I was either afraid or embarrassed to think about before. So there’s some pretty nasty stuff on there. 

You may be more willing to forgive the lyrics if you see them as passing low points in a larger story. And this album really is a story: the story of the last two years of my life. And as you’re probably well aware, these have been two very weird years.

But the worst was yet to come... TO BE CONTINUED IN THE 33 1/3 BOOK PINKERTON 

1 - Weezerpedia. Rivers Cuomo. https://www.weezerpedia.com/wiki/Rivers_Cuomo.

2 - Cohen, Ian. (2015, February 9). Rivers Cuomo. Pitchfork. https://pitchfork.com/features/5-10-15-20/9590-rivers-cuomo/.

3 - The Weezer Recording History. (2006, February). Weezer.com. http://www.weezer.com/info/recording/WeezRecHist3.htm.

4 - Luerssen, John D. (2004, August 1). River’s Edge: The Weezer Story. Toronto. ECW Press.

5 - Runtagh, Jordan. (2019, May 10). Weezer’s Blue Album: 10 Things You Didn’t Know. Rolling Stone. https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-features/weezer-blue- album-rivers-cuomo-things-you-didnt-know-822881/.

6 - Rockland, Kate. (2006, February 16). At School with Rivers Cuomo: Student with a Past. The New York Times. https://www.nytimes.com/2006/02/16/garden/16weezer.html.

7 - Braun, Laura Marie. (2016, September 23). How Weezer’s ‘Pinkerton’ Went from Embarassing to Essential. Rolling Stone. https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music- features/how-weezers-pinkerton-went-from-embarrassing-to-essential-105567/.

[athina-blaine]

MoMM Update! - What to heck?

Hello, everyone! Unfortunately, Chapter 2 is still under works– the hiatus we mentioned back in our first update post has arrived and MoMM has to take a bit of a backseat for now. I was definitely overzealous in flinging around posting dates the way I did, and I apologize for that; I’d hate to have inflicted any unnecessary disappointment. I promise to practice more reservation in the future!

In the meantime, I’ve decided to go ahead and post the first half of the chapter under this cut– 6k words, 17 pages, I got it all right here for ya. [pats top of post]

Enjoy!

THE MONSTER OF MAGNUS MANOR

CHAPTER 2

THE ESTATE

(Chapter 1 here!)

Martin’s dreams were murky things, cut to the clop of fading hoofbeats and a pair of frightened eyes– eyes that kept locking with his own as the world faded in and out. At some point they’d manifested fully into a man– he was saying something, a string of urgent, unintelligible words that blistered the air around them.

“–tay with me, don’t– no, no, no, no–”

Martin’s vision greyed out before he could make out the rest.

When he resurfaced,  he was lying in a … a bed? Was … this the castle infirmary–? No, he didn’t think even Lord Barclay’s mattress was this comfortable. And the rock slab cots lining the servants’ infirmary didn’t have four poster canopies, either …

Strange dream. Everything wobbled, and grew dark again.

And then he was blinking awake. The bed and its canopy were still there, as lavish as they’d been in his dream. 

“Are you awake properly, this time?”

The unfamiliar voice had Martin lurching upright. Pain zinged through his skull; he groaned, pressing a hand to one eye.

“I don’t know,” he breathed. “I-I guess so?”

The man sitting beside him let out a slow breath, some of the stiffness unwinding from his posture. “You’ve had a few false starts,” he explained. “Understandable, given your head injury.”

Head injury. The events from earlier came rushing back to him– Martin’s vision was still swimming, but he recognised this man, or the colour of his eyes, at least. They were the same shade of brown as the mysterious figure from the fog. He’d since pulled back the hood of his cloak, revealing dark skin marred with pockmarks on one side of his fine-boned face. His hair had been tied up in a silvering bird’s nest of a bun, and a few thin strands had fallen to brush the shoulders of a richly embroidered vest.

Martin tallied it all up: posh manner, fine clothes, the thin, borderline regal cut of his face. Despite the incongruity of his scars and disheveled hair, the facts pointed to one thing– this had to be the lord of that mysterious estate.

A mysterious estate he was now inside, with an injury that had stars dancing before his eyes. “How–” Martin started, then paused to steady his breathing. “How long was I out?”

“Not long.” The man pulled an ornate pocket watch from his vest pocket, squinting. “It’s about five o’clock.”

“In the afternoon?”

“Does it look like five o’clock in the morning to you?” the man demanded, gesturing to the window. He was right; a weak orange sunset had begun staining the sky, casting dark shadows from the treeline over the estate’s grounds.

“No.” The word had been torn from Martin’s mouth with a burst of horror. He scrambled for the sheets, startling a noise from his host.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?”

Martin wasn’t listening; the image of Lord Barclay’s cold eyes as he told him, in unequivocal terms, that he was sacked had sent a low, buzzing static through his ears. “I’m sorry, thank you for taking me in, but I need t– I need to–” He had to get back– for his mum, if nothing else. Oh, God, if he lost this job now …

“What you need is to lie back down.” Martin’s bare foot had scarcely touched the floor before the man rose to his feet, thrusting a hand against his chest. “Didn’t you hear what I said? You’ve been concussed.”

Martin was unceremoniously shoved back down. He could’ve fought back– the stranger’s wrists were stick-thin where they stuck out past the sleeves of his tunic, and Martin wasn’t exactly small– but the sudden motion sent a wave of dizziness crashing over him, and Martin couldn’t summon the strength for it.

“Let me make one thing perfectly clear,” the man said, eyes fierce. “In your current state, you’ll collapse before you ever make it out of this forest. Is that what you want?”

The words hung in the air between them. Martin swallowed, shaking his head.

“Then lie down.”

Cowed, Martin sank back into the mattress. Once it was clear he wasn’t struggling, the man relaxed, withdrawing his hand from Martin’s chest.

“Thank you,” he said, sitting back down. Then his shoulders sagged. “I … apologise. I’m sure you have somewhere important to be, and you’ve been hurt as a direct result of my actions. Please believe me when I say this was not my intention.”

A heavy note of guilt rang through his voice, and Martin’s chest panged with instinctive sympathy. “I-it’s fine. It was just an accident.”

If anything, the grim set of his host’s mouth worsened. “I should also warn you– your horse ran off. I tried looking for her after bringing you here, but she doesn’t appear to be in the area.”

Oh God, Phillipa. “… she’s resourceful,” Martin said, but it was much weaker this time. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s found her way back home already.“ 

The stranger kept his gaze trained on his hands. “ … I– yes, of course. I’m sure you have nothing to worry about.” Abruptly, he stood once more. “I assume you’re hungry? Now that you’re awake, I can bring you something to eat.”

Martin jumped. “Oh, uh.” It would have been a full day since he’d last eaten, by now. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep anything down. Based on the strange intensity in the man’s eyes, though, only one correct answer existed. “Y-yes, I– um, thank you. Actually some– some tea would be nice?”

A single, sharp nod was his only response; the man turned on his heel, making a beeline for the door. 

Martin held out a hand before he could stop himself. “Wait– wait.”

The man turned, arching one brow, and heat washed over Martin’s face. He hadn’t actually had anything important to say, but they hadn’t even exchanged names.

“Sorry, I just … wanted to thank you. For– for taking me in.” He cleared his throat. “My name is Martin, by the way. Martin Blackwood.”

“A … pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mister Blackwood.”

Martin flushed. "Oh– just Martin is fine. Um … c-can I ask for your name?” 

Silence stretched taffy-thin between them as his host studied him, expression unreadable. Martin’s breath stilled in his lungs– was he being measured up? Found wanting somehow? He’d only asked for a name–

“Jon.”

Martin stiffened, but with a snap of his cloak, the man vanished, closing the door behind him.

Jon.

Martin wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it hadn’t been that. Jon. It was so … common. Approachable, for such an unapproachable man. Perhaps it was a family name.

Musings about Jon’s name could only distract him for so long, however, with his worst case scenario waiting for him back in the real world. Barclay would make him beg if he wanted to continue working in the castle, especially after last night’s disaster. 

Martin dropped his head in his hands. He was as good as sacked.

Distraction. He needed a good distraction. Anything to take his mind off agonising– not like he could fix anything confined to a bed by a stranger.

Lifting his head, he took a moment to peer around the room. It was bigger than the servants’ dormitory he shared with the others back at Barclay’s castle. To his right was an old, carved wardrobe; the desk and chair beside it had been made out of smooth mahogany. Paintings, their colours dulled by time, were hanging lopsided on some of the walls– a stark contrast to the faded wallpaper beneath them. Settled over it all was a fine layer of dust; only the chair, and the bed Martin was lying in, had been cleared of it.

Obvious disuse aside, even Lord Barclay’s accommodations weren’t this opulent. An unexpected twinge of guilt shot through Martin’s chest, as if he was doing something wrong. Stealing comfort that didn’t belong to him.

By the time Jon came back, the sunset had shifted from orange to a slow-burning red that dappled the sky. Tucked in the crook of his elbow was an unidentifiable bolt of cloth, and in his hands, a dinner tray. A silver dinner tray. “I apologise for the simplicity of the meal,” Jon said. “It’s … been some time since I’ve had the opportunity to cook.”

Had … was Jon implying that he, the lord of this house, had cooked for Martin? Martin swallowed, tearing his gaze from Jon back to the tray. Why wouldn’t the kitchen staff be making his meals?

Jon didn’t hand him the tray so much as he slid it into Martin’s lap; on it was a bowl of boiled vegetables, and next to that, a steaming cup of tea. Simple, yes, but Martin was grateful nonetheless.

“Thank you, really,” said Martin, entirely too genuine. Under the attentive eyes of his host, he shovelled a spoonful of turnip and carrot into his mouth, and started to chew. He stopped.

Jon leaned forward, poised. “How i– er, that is, I hope it’s to your satisfaction.”

Martin steeled himself and kept chewing, scrambling for a neutral expression. While the outside of the vegetables were soggy, their insides crunched against his molars, sending shudders down his spine. Underboiled, his mind supplied helpfully.

It was, perhaps, one of the worst meals he’d eaten in his life.

“It’s great,” he lied, smiling past the curdling in his stomach. Jon had made this himself, and Martin was going to die before he willingly insulted a lord to his face.

Jon released a quiet breath. “That’s … good.” He unwound the cloth draped over his forearm; it was a nightshirt and cap, made of fabric that could’ve been water for how it piled onto the sheets. “These are for you to wear to bed. You can find something to change into tomorrow in the wardrobe. Please inform me if there are any that don’t fit.” He winced. “And you’ll have to excuse me if you find anything that’s been chewed through. It’s impossible, keeping the moths out this time of year.”

“Tha– thank you?”

“You, ah,” Jon hesitated, before clearing his throat. “Seeing you’re here because of me, you’re welcome to stay until you’ve made a full recovery.” His voice grew guarded. “My only stipulation is that you remain in your rooms at night.”

Martin paused.

It wasn’t that unusual of a request– Martin was a stranger, of course Jon didn’t want him wandering about at night. No, what snagged Martin’s attention was the faint, nervous hitch of his shoulders as he said it.

“O-of course.” Martin’s throat bobbed. “Is it– can I ask why?”

Jon’s eyes narrowed. "I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

Oh, hell. “Sorry, sorry, you’re right. I-it’s just, I don’t know …” kind of strange? But the impatient twist of Jon’s mouth stopped him cold.

The silence dragged, then Jon crossed his arms. “I have a dog.”

“A … dog?”

“Yes. Big, vicious thing. He … patrols the manor at night– and he’s not partial to strangers.”

Oh. Well, that … that made sense, didn’t it? Still odd, though– Barclay had a whole team of hunting dogs, and none of them were allowed to wander the grounds without supervision. They weren’t pets, and they certainly weren’t guards. It appeared this one was, though.

“What’s his name?” Martin asked, before he could think better of it.

“What?”

“The dog.” Martin held up his hands in apology. “Sorry, it’s just, I love dogs. My neighbors had one when I was a kid. Ol’ Frankie.”

Jon’s eyes narrowed even further. “John.”

 “… John.”

“Yes.”

“John … the dog?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“You named the dog after yourself?”

The look Jon shot him was equal parts baffled and incredulous, as if he were ludicrous for asking. “I came into possession of the dog after it received its name. And, besides, it’s John, spelled with an H.”

“I … see.” Martin didn’t see. “Obviously.” It had not been obvious.

Jon glowered, daring him to continue, then reached into his pocket. “One last thing. I noticed … well, here.” With an oddly stiff motion, he held out a small glass jar of salve. “For your hands. It would be irresponsible of me, as your host, to let them ulcerate unchecked.”

Startled, Martin glanced down at his hands– they were still covered in blisters from scrubbing last night’s mountain of dishes. He’d forgotten about them in all the chaos.

“Th-thanks,” he said, accepting the jar.

Clearing his throat, Jon stepped back. “I’ll let you finish your meal. You can expect me tomorrow morning with breakfast.” One hand on the door, he hesitated, then added in a soft undertone, “Get some rest.”

Jon was gone before Martin could answer. He was alone once again.

Unscrewing the lid of the jar, Martin gave the ointment an experimental sniff– honey and almonds. He scooped out a dollop and rubbed it into the damaged skin of his hands, sighing as it cooled the sting of his blisters. Astonishing, that Jon had noticed at all– Martin was so used to it, he would have left them to rot on his own.

He finished his dinner, half out of pragmaticism, half because he didn’t want to risk insulting his host. At least the tea was good.

Tray set aside, Martin began unbuttoning his dress shirt. What an unusual sight he must have made, passed out on the ground in formal wear. The clothes Jon had provided were silky against his skin, marred only by the must of disuse– still a luxury for a person with Martin’s background.

It wasn’t enough to distract him from the cold knot of trepidation that twisted inside his stomach. But Jon had been right; even if he had known the way, he would never make it back in his current state, especially without Phillipa. 

At the very least, things couldn’t get much worse. There was solace in that. 

Martin settled back against the pillows. With so many thoughts racing through his head, sleep should’ve been impossible– but the moment he closed his eyes, the rest of the world slipped away.

-

“Here you are!” Martin’s eyes flew open as Charles dropped the tray into his arms. Its contents had been obscured by a covering; Martin couldn’t make heads or tails of what was inside, but whatever it was, it was heavy enough that he buckled under its weight. 

Charles winked. “Better you than me, right?”

“R-right.”

“Well, go on then. He’s hungry!”

Pulse pounding in his ears, Martin scurried into the dark hallway. None of the candles had been lit, but he knew the way by heart. His arm shook under the weight of the tray– carrying it with both hands would’ve been easier, but that wasn’t proper. And Lord Barclay was so particular about being proper …

The grand door leading into the dining hall drew closer, and a coil of apprehension burrowed into Martin’s gut. An unusual smell had started emitting from the platter– sweet and gamey, meat mixed with sugar glaze. His feet moved, relentless, and with every step, that sinking pit of dread at the core of him grew heavier.

He opened the door. The dining hall was empty, save for where Barclay sat at the head of the table. A single lit candle shone down on the dozens of empty plates surrounding him. Barclay wiped his mouth with a pristine napkin, and waved Martin forward.

Martin’s hands were trembling. He placed the tray on the table in front of Barclay, in between the scattered, stained plates. At his Lord’s signal, he removed the covering with as much flourish as he could.

It was empty.

The hairs on the back of Martin’s neck stood on end. Run, his instincts screamed. Get away, now! 

Barclay looked up at him, green eyes glittering dangerously. “Well?”

Martin started– at some point he’d been lowered into a chair. In ginger increments, he leaned over until his head was resting against the cool metal plate, each shuddering breath fogging its silver coating. Barclay reached for his utensils; Martin squeezed his eyes shut, praying that, for once, Barclay wouldn’t start with–

“Eyes open.”

Swallowing, Martin obediently pried them back open. The fork hovered out-of-focus, brushing his eyelashes. 

Somewhere beyond Barclay’s hall, a voice brushed against the edges of his hearing. 

“–Hello?”

The fork plunged down–

-

Martin jolted awake, his hair drenched in sweat. Sunlight was pouring in through the window, illuminating swathes of dust motes floating through each beam. It must have been around mid-morning. Reflexive panic welled in the back of his throat (late, oh God, he was so incredibly late) before the events of yesterday came back to him. The panic slipped away, dulled with leaden resignation.

Sleeping in was nice, at least; when was the last time he’d been this indulgent? Giving in to the mattress’ siren’s call was tempting– he could have slept longer, waited until Jon came to wake him up. But while the dreams’ contents had slipped away faster than he could recall, their weight sat heavy on the back of his tongue. He wasn’t particularly interested in returning.

Taking a chance, he tossed aside his blanket and slid onto his feet. His heart lifted– had he recovered enough to make it back to the castle?

The world spun on its axis, and Martin caught himself against the wooden bed poster before he collapsed. 

Ah. As if he could be so lucky.

With one hand against the wall for support, Martin shuffled his way over to the wardrobe. The hinges creaked as he opened it– Lord, everything here needed a good cleaning. He’d have been tanned for letting a room fall into this much disrepair on Griffiths’ watch. Hopefully, the clothes would be in better–

Martin’s mind blanked. The clothes were indeed in better shape, but the options inside were … far more expensive than he was used to wearing. Was Jon not worried about Martin ruining them? Although they must’ve belonged to someone else– these were all too big for Jon. Whoever they belonged to, Martin prayed they wouldn’t mind him wearing their clothes.

He selected the plainest tunic and trousers he could find among the ornate, embroidered lot. None of them had moth holes, at least; Jon would be happy to hear that.

Speaking of his mysterious host …

As soon as he was confident he could walk without falling over, Martin opened the door to the hallway, glancing out into the hall. No dog; that was a good sign. Jon had mentioned bringing breakfast– the smartest idea was for Martin to wait inside his room, but his curiosity was burning. What did the estate of such an eccentric lord look like, anyway?

Surely he could risk a quick look around before Jon arrived.

Martin closed the door behind him with a gentle click, eyes roving over the hallway.

It appeared that the estate of a lord like Jon looked incredibly dusty.

Martin dragged an experimental finger over the surface of a nearby windowpane; it came back smeared with grime. Griffiths would’ve died on the spot– what on earth was Jon’s staff doing? Taking advantage of Jon’s generosity and shirking their responsibilities?

He picked a direction at random and began to walk, keeping one eye peeled for someone who could point him in a useful direction. This section of the manor appeared to have been functionally abandoned, though; perhaps Jon had wanted to ensure Martin’s privacy, although that seemed like an unnecessary effort.

By the time he reached what must have been the grand staircase of a foyer, he still hadn’t encountered another living being. Martin faltered, eyes grazing over the crusted windows, before dipping to linger on an old, broken gramophone at the bottom floor.

Where was everybody?

He continued trailing through the manor, more apprehensive now. Each step brought with it the sense he was a misplaced ghost; alone and drifting, untethered from reality. The layout of the hallways had a labyrinthian element to their design– a wise man would have turned back at risk of becoming lost, but … 

It was as if someone had wrapped a string around his joints, tugging his feet forward. Martin couldn’t have turned back even if he’d wanted to.

His footsteps echoed through the empty corridors, crescendoing until they threatened to drive knives into his eardrums. No other noise penetrated the corridors; even the milky light filtering through the manor’s windows couldn’t reach him. The outside world had been choked off, as effectively as it had in the fog.

Panic swelled inside his lungs. Was there really nobody here? In a desperate bid, Martin threw open the first door to his left, hoping someone, anyone, would be on the other side.

Instead, he found the library. 

Stumbling backwards, his jaw went slack.

Martin had only seen two libraries in his life: the small, tattered bookshelf in the back of his mother’s church, and Lord Barclay’s personal collection– although the servants couldn’t make any selections for themselves. An entire room full of books, Martin had assumed it was among the largest collections of its kind.

He’d been wrong.

What stood before of him now were two stories worth of wall-to-wall bookshelves, brimming with texts and tomes in exquisite leather bindings. The scent of old parchment tickled Martin’s nose, sending him back to that dusty corner of the church, escaping through tattered parables and hymns.

Entranced, Martin stepped into the enormous room, leaving the door hanging open behind him. Giddy compulsion had him plucking out the first book he laid eyes on. A cookbook; although the language inside was unfamiliar, every page had been filled with mouthwatering illustrations. He selected another book at random: this time, a book of astronomy. And after that, a love story. Martin fought the urge to laugh, breathless. Just how many different books did Jon have?

Tucking all three in the crook of his arm, he continued down the aisle, reverent fingers brushing over each spine as he passed. A vast majority of them had been left untouched; preserved, perhaps, to maintain the appearance of esteem. That was the only reason Barclay ever added to his works. But occasionally, he’d come across a book with frayed pages, its spine threadbare.

Not mishandled, though. None of the pages had been dogeared, or the bindings broken. No, these carried the air of a book well-loved, read so many times over the years they’d been worn down to the glue. Martin took those with him as well, adding them to the growing collection in his arms.

When the first throbs of a sharp ache began pulsing at the back of his head, Martin ignored it. He couldn’t just leave, not with so much begging for his attention. When would he ever come across an opportunity to browse through a collection like this again? No, he had to make the most of it, while he still could.

But as Martin reached the far corner of the library, he slowed. A door was tucked away here, in a corner where no sunlight reached. It was nondescript, out of place in its simplicity– and yet, something about it drew Martin closer. Cool air seeped from between the door’s cracks, beckoning his curiosity.

His fingers grazed the brass handle–

“Don’t touch that.”

Martin yelped, books crashing to the ground.

Jon was standing at the end of the aisle with eyes like chips of ice. Heat bloomed across Martin’s face. This hadn’t been how he’d planned to encounter his host again: caught like a child sneaking sweets from the pantry.

“Sorry,” he stammered, scrambling to scoop up the fallen books. God, he’d dropped them. “I-I wasn’t– I didn’t mean to–”

“How many times do I have to say the word concussed before it sinks in?” With a sigh, Jon bent over to pick up the remaining books, depositing them on a random bookshelf before swiping the rest from Martin’s hands. Martin flinched, and the lines around Jon’s mouth deepened. "You’re in no condition to be wandering, let alone nosing around into places you shouldn’t.”

“I– I wasn’t trying to, to snoop or anything–”

“Really.” Jon shot a cool, pointed glance at the door. The flush crawled down to Martin’s neck, prickling in time with his erratic pulse. 

“Sorry,” he said again, lamely. “I really didn’t mean to– I-I was just … curious.”

“Curious. Of course.” With a sigh, Jon dropped the remaining books into another untidy stack, clapping dust off his hands. “I’ll show you back to your rooms– breakfast is waiting for you.”

Jon shouldered his way back out of the aisle, leaving Martin no choice but to follow. He was too embarrassed to protest even if he wanted to, but– his eyes lingered on the stack of books as they passed, mournful. It would have been nice to read at least one.

Jon urged him back into bed as soon as they reached Martin’s rooms, then turned to the breakfast tray he’d left on the desk. Martin fought down the growing dread at what Jon could have possibly prepared for this morning– but when Jon placed the tray on the bed, he breathed a sigh of relief.

Bread, butter, and a bowl of chestnuts. Absolutely no risk of anything overboiled here. And the bread was fresh, too– delicate wisps of steam rose to curl in the dusty air. Had Jon made this himself as well? It had come out better than the first meal, that was certain.

“Thank you,” Martin mumbled, picking up the bread knife to smear butter over a slice. 

Jon’s frosty expression didn’t change. "Why in the world did– I can’t imagine what possessed you to roam around this morning. Do you have any idea what I experienced when I found you gone?”

A spasm of guilt tangled in Martin’s gut. “S-sorry. I just … wanted to look around, a little.”

“There’s nothing worth looking at. This place may as well be a mausoleum.” 

Martin’s head whipped up. "You can’t mean that.”

A wry silence.

“Seriously? But your– your library is amazing! I’ve honestly never seen anything like it.”

“Th– the library?” Some of the severity in Jon’s expression vanished; he blinked, opening and closing his mouth. “ … Oh. Well, thank you, I suppose. But I’m, ah … I’m not the owner of that collection.” A shy, almost pleased note crept into his voice. “I did help retrieve a few of the rarer tomes, however. ” 

Slice of bread halfway to his mouth, Martin paused. “You … but I thought …?” 

One arched brow crept toward Jon’s hairline. “You thought … ?” 

“I’m sorry, but– aren’t you the lord of this place?” 

“No.”

Martin took a moment to process this sudden collapse of his mental image for Jon. “But then who … why are you …?”

For someone so young, Jon had far too much stress lining his face. “It’s … complicated. You could say I inherited this place from its previous owner.” 

“Your father?”

“No,” Jon said, blanching. Then, without warning, he pitched forward. “I’ve been wondering if you’ll entertain a question from me.” 

Martin jolted, taken aback by the sudden shift in conversation. “Y-yes?” 

Jon smoothed a hand over one of his cuffs. “You were dressed too nicely to be working in someplace like a smithy. But your hands … I assume you’re a labourer of some kind?” 

“Oh.” Flustered, Martin set down the piece of bread. Why would Jon want to know a mundane thing like that? “I’m, um, I’m a server in Lord Barclay’s estate, actually.” 

“Barclay?”  

“Yes, Lord Barclay. Lord Frederick Barclay?” Jon was still frowning. “Your Lord. Your Lord, if you live in this region.”

“You really expect me to know the name of every noble that goes parading themselves around these parts like an arsehole?”

“I-I … suppose not?” Martin didn’t understand how Jon couldn’t know, though. What about his taxes? “H-how about you?” 

“Pardon?” 

“Well, you said the library wasn’t yours, right? And … you said you’re not the lord of the estate, yeah?” 

“In a legal sense, no.” 

Well that was an interesting answer, but Martin was learning not to ask for elaboration. “So, what do you … do?” 

Jon scowled. “I don’t see why it matters.”

“S-sorry.” 

“You apologise a great deal, you’re aware of this?”

“S–” Martin bit it back just in time, and Jon blew out a haggard, long-suffering sigh. 

“But I suppose it’s only a fair trade. If you really must know, I was – am, I suppose – the Head Archivist of this estate.”

Martin’s brows flew up– Head Archivist? That had to be rather prestigious. Did Barclay have a similar role anywhere present in his staff? The only thing Martin could think of that compared was … “So, like a librarian?”

“Not like a librarian.” But Jon’s mouth twitched. “I suppose there is some overlap. It was more than just filing books and keeping things tidy, though. We were also researchers.”

Martin perked up. “We?”

“… Yes. I … I did have a team working alongside me, previously. We researched unusual encounters, on behalf of our patron.”

“What kind of unusual encounters?” Fascinated, Martin leaned forward. “You mean like, like love affairs?”

“Nothing as salacious as that.” A slight smile broke out across his lips. “Although there– there was one time … ”

He stilled, trailing off. The fragile warmth that had been growing behind his eyes shuttered.

“Although … ?” Martin prompted after a beat.

Jon’s expression could’ve been carved from stone. He said nothing, shoulders hunched under some unseen burden.

A suspicion had been brewing in the back of Martin’s mind since his crawl through the manor’s hallways, and now, with Jon coiled tense as a spring in front of him, it came roaring back full force. Well, if there was ever a time for inquiries … “Can I ask you something?”

Jon huffed, and Martin winced. 

“Right. Um. I guess I just wanted to ask–” oh, how to phrase it …? “–is … is there anyone else … here?” 

Jon’s eyes lowered to rest on his hands. “No,” he said. “It’s just me. And now you, I suppose.”

And all at once, the pieces fell into place. Jon’s cooking, his nonchalance about the borrowed clothes, the dust that had settled in a thick carpet over everything Martin, or Jon himself, hadn’t touched. For the second time today Martin was left staring, dumbfounded. “… I don’t understand.”

“What’s there to understand?”

“This place is gigantic. Don’t you …” Martin glanced down at his lap, thumbing a loose thread in the duvet. “There’s really no one here?”

It was the wrong thing to say. Jon’s eyes flashed. “I don’t need your pity. Why else would I be here if I didn’t prefer it this way?”

Martin opened his mouth, but Jon stood before he could reply, stormclouds thundering in his eyes. “This has been more than enough excitement for one day– I’ll let you get some rest.”

He’d already made it to the door when Martin regained control of his voice. “Thank you for the ointment.”

Jon stopped, one hand frozen on the door’s handle. “Pardon?”

“The hand cream. It, uh, it helped. Thank you for noticing. And … and I’m sorry for … everything, I guess.”

Jon stared at him for a long moment, then lifted his chin. “Glad I could be of some service.”

The door clicked shut behind him, and Martin counted his footsteps until even their echoes faded down the hall entirely. 

It was probably for the best that he followed Jon’s instructions and got some rest. He had the gnawing sense that he was wearing out his welcome, fast.

He’d already nestled back into the mattress when a flash outside his window made him shoot back up.

Snow. Fluttering snowflakes were dancing on an invisible wind just beyond the glass. Martin rubbed his eyes– once, twice– but they were still there.

A trick of the light– it had to be. Some … half-asleep hallucination. He still had a ways to go before he was recovered, after all. Imagine– snow, at this time of year.

Putting it out of his mind, Martin pulled the duvet over him, and, with very little effort, drifted away again.

-

“–Hello?”

Martin stumbled to a halt, dinner tray in hand. What the hell was he doing? He didn’t have time to stop– there was still so much of the hallway left to go. But …

There. A door had appeared in the hall. Or had it always been there? For the life of him he couldn’t remember. Why couldn’t he remember …?

“You’re going to be late,” Charles said, somewhere off in the distance.

Late. Yes: Barclay’s dinner. He … he needed to leave. He was going to get everybody in trouble–

“–go.”

There it was again. Martin’s legs were stone; unable to move to the door, unable to move down the hallway. They had said go, right? He had to deliver Barclay’s dinner. But …

“You’re going to be late,” Mum said. Her eyes were hazy, unclear. What a wretched son he was; couldn’t even recall the colour of his own mother’s eyes …

“I’m sorry,” he said, but even he couldn’t tell who it was for.

-

Martin woke with aching arms and gummed eyes. Sunbeams were once again pouring in through his window, and this time, the accompanying disorientation faded faster.

Was it already morning? He must’ve slept right through dinner– this bloody mattress made it too easy.

And for once he was actually hungry. Properly hungry, too, without the accompanying nausea or weakness he’d grown accustomed to during his morning routine at the castle.

Today the silver tray was waiting for him on the desk– Jon had already come through this morning, likely an effort to keep him from waking, or wandering off again.

It was only as Martin was reaching for the tray that he noticed the books. Three of them, stacked on top of each other. Next to them were several pieces of folded parchment.

Martin, the letter started, with graceful, cursive handwriting, and something in Martin’s chest swooped low.

Here are some collections from the library, should you find yourself in need of entertainment. I had some difficulty choosing a recommendation, but I feel that these three have fairly universal appeal. Please take your injury into consideration, but I trust you to do what feels right for yourself.

Kinsey’s Survival on the Front Lines, especially, I find quite compelling. It’s a collection of memoirs from Kinsey’s time in war, and while a few have criticised his writing style as a bit dry, I find the contrast between his straightforwardness against the reality of war is how he’s able to make his point so clearly …

Martin read slowly, eyebrows climbing higher and higher with each word. 

The letter was five pages total, front and back. All detailing Jon’s reasoning for the selections he’d made, from their historical relevance, to his opinion on their style of prose. Was there anything in Martin’s life that he could talk about for so long? That he was so passionate about? Maybe his poetry, mediocre as it was, but not with half as much eloquence.

Buried in the text, tucked between hesitant, tentative platitudes, were Jon’s personal reasons for enjoying each book, such as I would often find myself returning to this text during my apprenticeship, and Some might consider Williamson’s humour a bit crude, but I still found it enjoyable.

Martin lingered longest on these, drinking in each tidbit with the avidity of a book-starved scholar.

The letter concluded with,

By now I’ve realised I needn’t have gone on for so long, but I’ve already spent two hours writing this, and it seems a wasted effort if I just tossed it, so … there you are. If you made it this far, anyway. Admirable, if you have.

If the choice between the three books still proves to be too much, I would suggest Sutherland’s Mythos of the Ages as a start. It’s simple, but, as I’ve mentioned, the illustrative work is astounding, and although it’s rather sentimental, I find the tales of some comfort to me. 

Jon

Martin traced the elegant swoop of the J, heart ballooning in his chest until he might burst.

Oh.

–

If you would like to be notified of MoMM news and chapter updates, please message me your user name and I will tag you in future posts. Otherwise, check out the MoMM tag on my page in order to stay up to date.

 @itspandaatsume123​ @thesmallestzita​

[lovingonrepeat]

Hi baby!!! I just wanna say if you’re struggling with Sungjin’s enlistment (especially the way he announced it which is just whensbfnf it’s so on brand for him it is PAINFUL), particularly because he’s the first enlistment for you since getting into Kpop, know that you’re not alone. I think anyone who follows/supports/biases Korean born male idols goes through a similar experience, especially when it’s your bias (or perhaps your ult). For me it was EXO’s Suho’s enlistment last year that, while I knew was coming because of his age, still hurt when it happened, because it was my first (I started following EXO after Xiumin and DO’s enlistments). And then more recently with Chanyeol’s announcement, it hurt my heart so very very deeply, because he is my ultimate bias, but I will say his enlistment announcement somehow stung less. And I know Baekhyun’s is soon too, and hopefully that one will sting less too.

What I’m trying to say is— the first one is the hardest. But oh, the gifts they leave us with— the music, the content, the memories, there’s so much to hold on to to pass the time! It’s almost been a year since Junmyeon’s enlistment already and it feels like it was yesterday that he left. Think of it this way too, the sooner they go, the sooner they come back. I can empathize with Sungjin’s announcement specifically because it comes after a long hiatus from him, because Chanyeol’s was slightly similar— we got one day of him back and then not 24 hours later the press release went out. The consensus among exo-I’s I see is that while being in the military certainly isn’t a vacation, to be a civilian and out of the public eye is... well, we (myself and a good number of others) all feel very complexly that this will be good for him, to be not Chanyeol the rapper but Park Chan Yeol, the 28 year old Korean man. I can’t help but think a little similarly for Sungjin. And I know that he will do well and come back to us safely.

What I’m trying to say is if you’re feeling a lot— anguish, fear, sadness, if it makes you cry, worry about the future, and creates and empty pit inside you, it’s normal, the sadness aches, it’s okay to feel them. Let yourself feel them but don’t let them consume you. Be gentle with yourself. Find solace and comfort in other MyDay who’ll being waiting patiently alongside you, it makes the time pass by more quickly for sure. I follow an EXO military countdown blog, Holding for EXO, and it genuinely makes my heart so happy to see the posts and memories every day as the gap between time served and time remaining wanes smaller and smaller and smaller.

Much love to you sweetness 🖤 feel your feels, and remember, he’ll come back to you soon. You’ll get through it, I promise 🖤🖤🖤✨

I’m so dumb I had written a whole response to this and then accidentally closed the tab before hitting post and totally lost it LOL. I’ll try to remember what I had posted. But anon, thank you so much for taking the time to send this message. 

The first thing I wanted to say was that I realized that I totally forgot that J.Seph is in the military too, and he’s actually the first idol I stan who has enlisted. But they had said that they had postponed his enlistment, and he did it at a time where he’ll be back for live shows, and he’s the only one who has to enlist from KARD cuz Matt doesn’t have to. Plus, he’s still active on Instagram, so I don’t feel like I miss him too much.

But I’m also just very confused about the enlistments to begin with, because we have J.Seph (born June ‘92) who’s enlisted already, and then we have someone like Shownu (also born June ‘92) who hasn’t yet. WHICH TO BE CLEAR IM NOT SAYING I WANT SHOWNU IN THE MILITARY! I’m just saying with idols that I stan from the ‘92 line (Jin, Shownu, Baekhyun) not having enlisted yet, I didn’t even realize that idols from ‘93 like Sungjin were at their enlistment point already. And the way he said it made it sound like he’s starting the chain of enlistments in Day6, which also means the chain of idols I stan enlisting cuz I stan a lot that are around that age and UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

I also will never forgive corona for coming and preventing me from living out my goal of seeing Day6 live before they enlisted. 

I’ll definitely be ok, and I think I might’ve lost the point a couple times here, but I’m just sad. I was really looking forward to the new Day6 album and finally having ot5 back after nearly a year, but if they promote this album on music shows it’s just not gonna be the same. Also, if anyone has bothered to read this and you stan Day6, please hmu cuz I have zero MyDay friends that I know of lol and would love to make some. But once again thank you so so much for this message. It means a lot. I’m gonna go listen to Feeling Good and cry now lol (not seriously cry, but cry inside lol)

[erika-youknowtheangel]

Why hello there, it’s been a while huh?

//Hi Tumblr! Do you remember me? I’m still around. I haven’t been caught up on Night Vale recently so I’ve been avoiding spoilers. Sorry for the random really long hiatus! 

The holidays are here, and being that it’s been such a shit year for everyone, I think it’s time to let go of some things in time for the new year. That being said, it’s 1am, and I can’t sleep. I’ve been thinking, and I’ve been doing really well lately, despite... not doing well. Confusing right? Yeah I know lol. 

I just want to document, and especially for those wondering where I went. I can talk about it now and feel okay. I also want to make this more public, in case someone else has gone through it, or currently going through it. 

Thank you to those of you still in my life who have supported me, and those of you who had but we lost touch. I haven’t forgotten about you. Thank you.

TW: Toxic relationship, thoughts of suicide, non-consent (kinda?)

I recently found myself practicing magic- something I never really thought would help me. But here we are! And recently, I did a letting go spell. And honestly, it really helped a lot. And I think I’d like to create a new era of this blog too, to signify that I am moving forward. 

I moved states about 4 years ago now. Things played out pretty ugly for a while. I uprooted my entire life, because I wanted to, but I mainly did for someone who was very special to me. Don’t do that, kids, lol.

Do I regret it? No. I really don’t. Would I do it again if I knew what would play out? I genuinely cannot tell you.

Things were great here, at first. I thought I got everything I’ve ever wanted. Someone who loved me. Friendly faces around me. No more parental scare tactics. A job I really liked. But in return, I gave everything I already had, which wasn’t much to begin with, to this person. 

I am not a perfect person at all. And I do take some of the blame for the times I was super unreasonable. But at least I apologized, and was an open book about how I felt. Unfortunately, they gaslit me and everyone around me, saying that I was super manipulative and abusive. Of course, nobody wants to take the abusers side. So I lost a lot of “friends”. There was a time I did not know what was real. Did I truly say those things? Did I manipulate them in some way? Was I really just not listening? 

 Those who were THERE, know that this wasn’t at all the case. Who wouldn’t chose a side, for there was not ONE person to blame, but the both of us. They helped me so much in my recovery. I am so SO grateful to them, and hope they know that them staying and helping me self-reflect and work on myself means the absolute world to me. My only regret is not letting them in more before then, since I was so caught up in this one person to care about anyone else, myself included. I was naive to think that all of my mental breakdowns happening so often were because I was on my own for the first time with no life skills, but also because of depression. I see now that it was because of a toxic person I let too far into my life. 

I think what hurt me the most, is that I just felt used for the sex. Sex isn’t at all important to me in a relationship. I mainly just want to cuddle. But like, sure whatever. However.... I really don’t want to say I was raped, because it does not feel like the right word for it. I DID say yes. But at the same time, I didn’t exactly want to most of the time. I felt pressured. They talked me into it quite a lot.  It mainly just felt like a chore after a while, and then they would cry and scold me that “my heart wasn’t in it”. And “Did I even like them anymore like that”. Though, that last one stung, because they always wanted me to play a character. Like they didn’t actually like me anymore. It made me view sex in a whole different light. And I’m not going to lie, I still have no idea if it was a good or bad thing. I haven’t really said this part before. But, I can finally acknowledge it without triggering this spiral of thoughts.  

Honestly, ever since they cut me out completely I haven’t had nearly as many mental breakdowns since that first year. I also got a dog, who has helped me SO MUCH through this process. I honestly don’t think I would have made it through the pain of losing myself if it weren’t for her. She reminded me to take care of myself. Feed her, feed myself. Take her potty, take a walk outside. She has been with me for a little over 3 years now. 

This pretty much brings me to how absent I was on this blog mainly. Ever since that relationship, I’ve been learning on how to take care of myself. It’s been a LONG while since I could do the things I loved without thinking of them. I just recently started painting again. I haven’t been drawing as much as I used to. Cosplay basically went out the window. I’m taking back MY OWN character that this person wanted so bad. In fact, I have plans for him I just haven’t gotten to yet. 

For the new year, the past is the past. I’m thankful it wasn’t ever physical. But I am still to this day working through some of the things. I still cannot hear a certain car horn without going into a panic. I will never be able to call someone a certain pet/nickname, and I am trying to reclaim another one I liked. I never got closure. And through working on it myself and seeking therapy and talking about it, I was able to be okay with that. Still sucks, but you gotta do what you gotta do I guess. 

And if this person, just so happens to come across this for whatever reason- I will never. NEVER forgive you for what you put me through. But I also want to thank you for at least showing me who my true friends were and are.  

I’d like to be an ask blog again.  I’d like to have the energy to draw, and cosplay and craft.  I will never stop improving. I can always be better. 

And that’s what I plan to do.

For those of you who have actually read this all the way through, thank you. It’s nice to be heard. It’s nice to have gotten this out in the open. 

My inbox is always open if you need to talk. :) 

[elixir448]

Good Girls 3x02 Thoughts

The Opening Scene

I think we all knew that Rio was knocking on Rhea’s door, rather than Beth’s. Even so, this opening scene was a gift. Of course, it is meant to mislead the audience into thinking that we are going to see Beth and Rio come face to face for the first time since she shot him but there’s so much more to talk about!

First of all, this season is really setting up Beth and Rio’s relationship as the major driver of the plot and, arguably, this has always been the case. The show is definitely about the girls but Beth and Rio’s relationship (both personal and professional) pushes the story forward. In my opinion, it’s second only to the girls’ changing motivations for being in crime, in terms of plot progression. Manny referred to Beth as Rio’s “archnemesis” in a recent interview and I know a lot of people disagree with this and think it’s funny. While I think the terminology is perhaps a bit off, I think the idea is there and what I love about it is that Beth and Rio’s relationship is so difficult to define, which I touched upon in my 3x01 thoughts post, and it’s impossible to encompass what they are to each other with one word. They have been so many things at so many different times and, gosh, now they have history. A painful, spiteful, kind of tragic, extremely messy history. I love that this season seems to be gearing these two up for what looks like a major confrontation at some point. I can really see things exploding between them later in the season, on a level beyond the alley scene in 2x07.

I’m digressing but the point is that this scene really sets them up as antagonists again, which they have been on and off for the past two seasons. In fact, I’d argue that the term never really departed from their relationship at all and it looks like we’ll be going back to the facade of one-dimensional antagonism for a little while but with the weight of the history they now share, it seems unlikely that they’ll be fooling anyone.

I think it was @foxmagpie who pointed out that Beth is staring into the mirror that Rio smashed in her fantasy in 2x05 and I practically had a stroke when I read that. The way the scene is set up, with Beth and Rio both looking in mirrors is so symbolic of their relationship and what they are to each other. While I would hesitate to call them mirror images, I certainly think that Beth and Rio are similar in the fundamental ways that shape a person but they are so different in others, particularly in the ways that they occupy the worlds that they live in and the lives they have lived.

While Beth is staring in the mirror, we hear Dean say “well, how much did you get for it?!” and it’s quite startling and almost intrusive. Beth and Rio aren’t even in the same room but they’re basically having a moment. And of course Dean has to intrude. Even though Dean is Beth’s husband and despite everything he did in season 2 to keep her, it really represents to me that Dean has been the outsider ever since Beth and Rio met. And, despite Dean’s belief that Rio has been forcing his way into Beth’s life, the reality is that he is the one who has been intruding into their relationship.

Rio has a new car! It’s a G-wagon, it’s loud and kind of pretentious. I do miss the Cadillac but I love that his new car lines up so well with how he’s been this season, which is loud! He had Agent Turner and several other FBI agents killed in the first episode alone. If that’s not loud, I don’t know what is.

Marcus and Rio’s reunion was the sweetest thing ever. I thought my heart was going to explode and release like a ton of rainbows and sunshine and unicorns. The way that Rio held Marcus really said everything about how much he missed his son. Rhea seemed a little ticked off about his sudden reappearance but happy and accepting overall, which really just adds to what we have already learned about the breakdown of their relationship and Rio’s presence in Marcus’ life. I know I said it last week but I have to say it again. I love how much this detail further humanizes Rio, beyond what the introduction of Marcus in 2x01 achieved. He’s not infallible and he has his own, very personal, flaws that affect his family. Just like Beth.

I’ve been seeing a lot of speculation that Rhea knows more than she has been letting on to Beth. Again, I don’t think that’s true. I think Rhea really just saw her relationship with Beth as a genuine friendship and I don’t think she knows anything else. Towards the end of the episode, Beth of course speaks to Rhea and I think that once Rio realised who Rhea’s soccer mum friend was, he filled Rhea in enough for her to realise that Beth intentionally sought her out and cultivated a friendship. This could mean that he told her everything but I doubt that very much. I think he probably told her just enough for Rhea to feel a great deal of hurt over Beth’s actions.

I am a little disappointed that we never got to see the scene where Rio clocks on to the fact that it’s Beth that Rhea is talking about. We’ve been robbed! But honestly I loved the episode so much that it’s fine I guess.

Annie, Sadie, Gregg and Nancy

I really love, love, loved the writers including how difficult transitioning can be because of people around you not keeping up, even if they are fully accepting. I’m not surprised though because the writers have handled Ben’s arc so well.

As for Gregg and Nancy attending couples therapy, I’m not exactly surprised. I do wish that they had parted ways but I do recognise that it’s such a difficult situation to handle with a newborn baby and I do appreciate the realism of it. I personally grew up with a mum who put up with way too much and lived a life that she was way above but she didn’t walk away because of me and my brother. I also see what people mean when they talk about wanting to see Beth take control and walk away from Dean for good because staying together for the sake of the kids is overrated, and I also see how this relates to wanting Nancy to walk away from Gregg. Believe me, I really want to see Beth and Dean part ways, with regards to their marriage. But I also really empathise with the situations Beth and Nancy are both in, for different reasons. Nancy can, of course, financially support herself and her child but Dakota is a newborn baby and I can see why parting ways with Gregg at such a time would be so difficult when they both want to raise their child and be around at all times as he grows up. For Beth, it’s really about financial security and stability and it’s so interesting to me that she continues to chase this with Dean, as he clearly has sunk the family business multiple times before (as discussed by Beth and Annie in 2x04). I think it’s become a bit of a habit at this point, which I am keen to see broken this season!

As for Annie attending therapy. I love it! I think Annie’s at the beginning of a really interesting, introspective path this season and we really saw it doubled down in this episode, with her being called out by Ben once again and comparing her life to a major road traffic accident. I really hope the writers continue with these random introspective moments for Annie, sinceI’m really enjoying them. Her scene with the kid prior to the therapy appointment was A+++, so funny! I wonder if that kid is going to turn up again, especially since he was in quite a few bts pics during hiatus. He’s such an amazing little actor too!

I’m really interested in seeing where her arc goes. We know that she develops an inappropriate crush in 3x04 and I think we all think it’ll be on her therapist; if this is the case, I’m really curious to see whether her therapist finds out and if he reciprocates because it would be incredibly unprofessional and unethical if he pursued something with his own patient.  

Also, Annie is the manager! I straight up hollered during that scene. Mae’s line delivery continues to be hilarious and totally spot-on.

(Side-note here but I love that Beth was drinking a slushie again and that she answers the phone call from Ruby with “hey lady.”)

Judith, Beth and Dean

I really loved Judith and Beth’s scenes in this episode and the depiction of the archetypal mother-in-law and daughter-in-law relationship. I particularly loved how it emphasised that Dean cannot defend Beth at all; not once in the entire flipping episode did he say a word to help her.

Throughout the episode, we see that Judith is a lot like Dean when it comes to Beth. They don’t listen to her and they don’t see her. Beth had to repeatedly explain that her workplace sells “not just cards” and this is strikingly similar to Dean’s blatant disregard for Beth’s opinions and thoughts.

I think the writers and Jessica Walter did a fantastic job of capturing the complexity of a character like Judith. I’m quite passionate about this kind of thing because I grew up in a family where it was commonplace to see a sort of bitterness develop in women who had suffered a lifetime of simultaneous oppression and complete disregard from men and who had, as a result, developed a kind of internalised misogyny. More so, I love that the writers portray Judith as a character who is very much aware of this bitterness and yet she still personifies what those very men expected of her and she now expects the same from her daughter-in-law.

And yes! I wished that the writers would touch on mental health again and I got it! The discussion about post-partum depression is SO IMPORTANT. Women aren’t just mothers once they have kids; yes, it’s often a crucial part of their identity but it’s certainly not everything. Not even close to everything.

Judith sacrified her working life to raise Dean because her husband made more money than she did and it was expected of her to raise a child; she did not feel like she could have both. She patronises Beth in this scene, acting as though Beth should know better by now. What I love most about this is Beth saying that Judith’s happiness was important and that she shouldn’t have quit. It represents so much growth to me because we’ve seen Beth back-slide into the misshapen family she has with Dean. This really represents to me that, internally, she’s moving forwards and she won’t let herself be held back by Dean.

(Another side-note but I love that Beth affectionately calls Kenny “KB” and that his full name is Kenneth Irving Boland.)

Beth

We talk about it all the time but Beth is veeerrryy good at compartmentalising. We’ve seen it numerous times. With relation to this scene, I love that she clearly feels weird about Turner’s death and that the girls seem to appreciate the possibility that she might be upset over it, as her and Agent Turner did have a weird kind of relationship that she enjoyed sometimes. I think, in her own way, she resented him but also respected his ability to see through her and match her. She definitely really enjoyed the high she got from one-upping him.

Despite this, Beth lays down the flowers and is all about business again. She processes her emotions and moves on and we’ve seen her do that a lot. She did it with Dean in 1x01, when she wrecked his study with a sledgehammer and yanked the pig off of Boland Motors but then went straight back to sorting out financial matters with him and being civil. She resented Mary Pat for extorting them but she seemed to come to terms with how similar they were in season 1. She was tearful over Dean’s cancer diagnosis but she processed it and came up with the idea to launder money through stores. We’ve seen it now with Agent Turner, her processing his death and moving on. I love how perturbed the girls were by Beth’s reaction; they really have clocked on to this side of Beth that they never saw before the events of seasons 1 and 2, how she can’t quite get enough crime and they are maybe now realising that Beth has always exhibited a kind of ruthless pragmatism.

The only person we arguably haven’t seen her do this with is Rio; she’s never been able to process her relationship with him. Following the ‘breakup’ scene in 1x09, she was clearly grieving something and she couldn’t move on like she had with any of her other relationships. Instead, by having him arrested (even if it was only for a short time), she ensured Rio could not turn his back on her.

As I said before, Rio’s shadow hangs over Beth’s arc and Beth’s shadow hangs over Rio’s scenes. Beth continues to learn from what she saw of Rio and she continues to try and emulate him. What I love most of all is that this is rarely successful, compared to what she manages to achieve in this episode by playing on her own, personal strengths, for example the scene where she speaks to the manager and lists all of the community positions she holds. Despite this, she has a lot to learn and she really needs to stop and think sometimes (gosh, I don’t know if she’s ever going to do that haha) before barrelling into a situation. Annie is absolutely right; Beth will never be Rio, no matter how much she tries to think like him or act like him, because they have their own strengths and the world regards them differently.

I do love that she has clearly learnt a couple of things from Rio, such as outsourcing in order to launder the counterfeit cash and, my personal favourite, she’s finally realised that there are consequences for screwing up. In this episode, she teaches Annie a lesson about how, if they continue to be taken advantage of by criminals attempting to renegotiate deals, eventually everyone will know and exploit it. It really reminded me of Rio’s rotten egg lesson in 1x07. Say what you want but these two definitely have some good teaching moments haha.

Don’t even get me started on Beth completely zoning Dean out and thinking about crimeing. She’s just always thinking about crimeing, so much so that she lets her mother-in-law come into her house and belittle her, solely because Judith is cleaning up after the kids and Dean (and ironing Dean’s boxers, eewwwwww); clearly, Beth’s priorities have shifted alot over the timeskip. That scene where she just goes full mum Bethie mode, serving lemonade and walking like an absolute queen to the truck, to get what she wants from the movers. That hair, those big blue eyes, that sweater and that French music! Perfection! AND SHE HAS A CHINESE SYMBOL TATTOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!! ON HER HIP!!!!! OMG!!!!!!!!!!!! I NEED RIO TO REFER TO THAT AT SOME POINT THIS SEASON!

Ahem. Anyway, my second favourite scene in this episode was the scene between Beth and the mover in her backyard. Gosh, it was amazing. And I loved her blouse. The music, the intensity, the power play, the staring. Oh my god. I have watched it about 100 times already. It was genuinely a stunning scene and both actors killed it.

Dean and Gayle

I think there are two potential ways this is gonna go. Either Dean cheats with Gayle, after attempting to resist the temptation and grounding himself in Beth and their family, or he experiences some attention at work that he doesn’t necessarily appreciate, paralleling the attention he paid his female employees who were in a vulnerable position. Maybe it’ll be both?

Regardless, I think that this arc is really going to further separate Beth and Dean and their respective interests. I mean, so far Beth and Dean’s arcs have been entangled; even in season 2, Dean is drawn into Beth’s crimeing with Rio and the family business he inherited was used to launder money. Now, Beth and Dean have very different and separate storylines with regards to their work. Beth is crimeing and Dean is unaware of what she is up to, as she has absolutely no interest in confiding in him (I mean, she suspiciously asks him why he needs money from her; she clearly doesn’t see him as anything more than just Dean at this point). The only link they seem to share now isn’t the dealership, work or crime. It’s really only their kids. I think we’re going to see their paths diverge further this season, particularly following the kiss (which I think will be in 3x04 based on Beth’s flowery blouse in the released pictures but she’s worn it numerous times before and has already worn it in this episode, so who knows!)

Also, classic Dean paying too much gross attention to a woman’s body, even as a tattoo, making inappropriate comments and judging the movers for being ex-convicts. God, Dean is such a prick.

Ruby and Stan

The scene where Ruby felt that she and Stan were not being seen by the sales assistant was also really important. Gosh, I love how this show incorporates things that are not just relevant today but have always been relevant, you feel me. I also really loved that Stan defended his passivity in this situation with some very legitimate reasons. Fighting for what you believe in is great but it’s also okay to feel exhausted and just want to get something done. I really felt that and I feel like everyone can relate to that on some level.

I know nobody needs to hear me say this again but I’m so scared for Stan this season. Like, Manny has me scared by saying that he’s most excited for Stan’s storyline.

And yesssssss. Ruby confided in Stan. I’m so happy! What a stark contrast from Beth and Dean. These two really are the ideal relationship and couple.

That Ending!

It was basically painful to see Beth following up with Rhea throughout this episode, knowing that Rio had put the pieces together and was gearing up to reveal himself to Beth. I also love how genuine the phone call was between Beth and Rhea and it kind of broke my heart but it really is deserved. Gosh Beth, you are a whole ass mess and you and Rio really deserve eachother.

I have considered how this was going to play out so many times and I have thought of so many different ways it could have happened. We haven’t even seen it all yet but I genuinely think Rio revealing that he’s alive to Beth happened perfectly. I love the way we hear his voice first (just like Beth heard his voice first when she met him in 1x01), the way that the camera keeps Beth in frame and pans to Rio slipping into the chair next to her, not taking his eyes off of her and savouring her reaction. You can just tell that he’s thought about this moment so many times! I’ve said it before but there’s something in the way Rio moves, this kind of elegance and grace that I’ve never really seen before.

Him slipping into that chair is straight up perfection though. To me, it represents all the ways that Rio continues to just casually slip into all the parts of Beth’s life, just like he always has since the beginning of their relationship; it doesn’t even feel like an invasion, if that makes sense. That side shot we get of Beth’s face really captures how wide her eyes become, they’re practically swallowing her face she’s in so much shock.

The ringing in her ears, the way all the noise disappears from the room but we can hear the thunk of the chair as Rio sits in it and the sound of his hands clasping together, everything else becomes unimportant. THE WAY HIS HEAD IS TILTED. HOW MANY FREAKING TIMES HAS HE THOUGHT ABOUT THIS?!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Don’t even get me started on Rio’s extra AF ass kissing the bullets she shot him with as he lays them down in front of her and lists the organs that she injured in the 3x03 promo. We see how close he leans in but doesn’t touch her. I am so curious to see how he leans in and how quickly it happens. The faux gentleness in his eyes and face and voice, referring to her as “his girl”. Where is the lie?! Beth really is his mess to clean up. I am really loving the dimension that is added to their relationship with this. Like, I hate you and I want to kill you and I’m planning to kill you so nobody else can do it. It has to be me. And then when Rio realises that he can’t kill Beth, because of the bombshell she drops, I can’t wait to see that shift into something like I hate you but I guess I have to deal with you and nobody else can touch you.

As for what I think the bombshell will be. Lemme just get this out there. I don’t think it will be pregnancy for so many reasons, which have already been discussed in the fandom. It may have something to do with Beth’s operation, maybe it’s something that she does in 3x03 that we haven’t even seen yet or maybe we just won’t know until we watch the episode lol.

Anyway, I’m super excited for 3x03 and can’t wait discuss it and them speculate on 3x04 afterwards.

[razorblade180]

Talking about the Bees

Over the years bmblb has given me a mix of emotions that were difficult to explain but I’ve gotten a pretty good handle on them now and I’m kinda just putting them out into the air. Bmblb is a really cute ship; Blake and Yang are aesthetically pleasing together and fans come up with really interesting things for them. Outside of that however, it is a bit of a challenge to enjoy this ship and it comes down two things really.

The first thing is really easy to explain. It suffers from what most ships in shows have where there’s plenty of pairings; it’s gotten so big that it’s constantly louder than most ships. This problem really can’t be fixed all that much unfortunately. For those who don’t get what I’m saying I’ll explain. When I watch RWBY and Blake and Yang do anything together, I instantly know social media is gonna be flooded with it. The fans are all gonna post similar things regarding that clip that everything else about that episode practically gets drowned out. I remember in V5 where countless of people were talking about how Yang was gonna react to Blake in the final episode and not about how she was gonna confront her mother. What makes it seem louder is even during a hiatus there’s no real slow down. Someone can make a post saying “Bees killedAdam” today and it most likely trend higher than an extremely well drawn picture of Oscar. No other ship does this. When major things happen to big ships like White Rose and Renora people eat up for a couple of weeks then move on; they don’t even flood the hashtags really. It’s only Bmblb that has this constant high 24/7 because of the sheer size and energy of the shippers; that’s why it’s super easy to upset the hive; not to mention the Wasps.

The second thing is a bit more controversial but these are my opinions and obviously no one is obligated to agree with me. Bmblb to me does not seemed earned. Like I said, they look cute together but their relationship is really hollow and leaves a lot to be desired in my opinion. It’s like Rooster Teeth made all the plot points but never connected them; some have dashed lines but that’s it. Yang in vol5 was so touchy over the subject of Blake that she lashed out momentarily at Weiss and Ruby. Even after talking about it with Weiss, a lot of pent of emotions were still there and could only be resolved by confronting Blake with them. At the end of the volume I held out hope that her saying they were fine was just because it was the end of the volume. Then we got to V6

It starts of good with their being this awkwardness between them; things aren’t normal yet and that’s good. Next major thing is the barn scene and that’s where the ball drops. Yang getting upset at Blake for her comment about being protected should’ve been the flood gate for a well of deeper problems. Yang should’ve ripped into her about all the pain she’s caused her since V3. Blake didn’t believe Yang during the tournament incident, then she left without a word, now she’s back by coincidence and talking about standing by people when they need help. That aggression she showed Ruby and Weiss should’ve been in full force here while Blake tried defending herself and also getting a angry instead of Yang just leaving; then having her help only Blake a few scenes later. I mean Yang has a golden opportunity to talk about her abandonment issues here.

That argument could’ve caused the both of them to not speak to each other and only be hurt up until the airship mission. Instead of a cute scene of Blake telling Yang how bad stealth she is, replace it with Blake trying to apologize again and clear the air as Yang only listens because as much as she wants to forgive her, she’s genuinely hurt so Blake goes to do her part of the mission without an answer. Then Adam shows up and Yang rushes into action like in the show. Both of them are forced to get their shit together and face the vital reason they are in this emotional situation. The scene plays out as normal about them protecting each other and we have them both break down and crying after they beat him too. They’re both apologizing for everything that’s happened and Yang tells her how much Blake means to her. Now these awkward and cute scenes in V7 feel earned between them and not bait because they have a complete arc.

We know Rooster Teeth can pull this off because they’ve made a complete arc before. Blake met Sun and he started as a stranger she’s into and would help her with or without permission. She likes it until it becomes a problem in V4 where she actively tries shuts him out of her life and is upset that he’s around to the point she hits him. Sun however continues to push the boundaries. This comes to a head where she gets really upset after he could’ve died. Both of them end up having a serious conversation where they air out all of their emotional stress. Then we spend V5 with Blake actively including him and giving him information about her life willing to the point she tells him about Ilia’s past and let’s him know she’s going to meet her.

This payoff keeps happening from that point forward where they have each other’s back and supporting one other until the end of the volume. The two of them confident that they don’t even have to constantly be around each other and that they can handle things separately. Then the arc closes in the beginning of V6. Blake went from hitting Sun and not wanting him around to being sad that he’s leaving her and kisses him on the cheek. Sun isn’t worried about her and trying to stick with her. He knows Blake is where she needs to be and doesn’t pressure her to figure everything out so fast; he respects her boundaries. They had a complete arc.

This is why Bmblb and BlackSun are so aggressive. More fans love Bmblb and they are drowning in evidence that their ship will be canon, BlackSun feels more complete. Their relationship has matured more naturally; the dots connect. There’s just not as many dots at this point. I’m not picking sides or anything because at this point o think Blake should be single and focus on who she is as a person for awhile, which would do Yang’s character some good. Yang has not initiated any meaningful conversation or action with anyone except Blake and her mom. Weiss just happened to be kidnapped by Raven and she also made Yang open up after her lash out. Yang barely talks to Ruby and outside of V1 and their hug in V5 there hasn’t been a real heart to heart with them, but she’s talked with, or about Blake plenty with varying emotions. Jaune is consistent with his feelings. Pyrrha makes him sad and any serious conversation holds a wait of him struggling to press on and slowly getting better because almost everyone has talked to him to help progress his character. Yang is trapped in a bubble talking to Blake and Blake is only allowed to really talk to Weiss if it’s about racism.

I know it’s a bit of tangent but Rooster Teeth is kinda letting this problem bleed over into other characters; especially when it comes to making plot points with no lines. Perfect example we got this volume. Ruby has been in the mindset that she failed to save Penny for like a year and felt crushed about her friends death, yet did not sob uncontrollably learning that her friend was alive. But she cried when she saw her sister, a person she left at home who wasn’t talking to her. If Pyrrha came back you could bet everything that Jaune would be on the floor in tears because it would be weird of he didn’t do that for someone he mourned over. It’s almost like if it’s not shipping related then RT doesn’t care that much but they obviously love Bmblb, yet it’s skeleton of what it should be by now!

That kinda wraps up the basis of my feelings towards the Bees. I really do think this ship is nice but it’s just so lack luster for the amount of people who love it way more than me and for RT to try and sell people on it. I don’t like comparing shows but for anyone who’s heard of The Dragon Prince, season 3 is nine episodes yet the evolution of two characters relationships feels way more natural; also it wasn’t planned from the beginning of the show. If they can do it, Rooster Teeth can too. I say this because I care and want to see the show improve. Like besides Adam, what do Yang and Blake have to talk about? Yang never is in the above faunus oppression. Anytime Blake gets racism thrown her way it’s Weiss that deals with it. Blake and Yang killed the lifeblood their ship was riding on way too long.