#moment: Boating

[riding-the-sunset-bird]

Response to this post by @onedreamaday:

love this so much. If you ever get the chance, can you do a follow with MC telling Lee that Baxter is the mystery boy? (Bonus if they're dating). Lee would have a field day.

I absolutely can.

[grogumaximus]

Max Verstappen and Gianpiero Lambiase's radio messages between Lap 27 - 33

LAP 27 ; Hulk spins and brings VSC

Max: A lot of water coming now, mate. GP: Okay, let me know when you think it's extremes. That's all I need to know, mate.

LAP 28 ; (Pia, Alo, Bea, Ham, Sai and Per pits)

GP: So, Max we have– safety car deployed. Safety car deployed. Dash positive, dash positive. GP: Max, tyres? Max: Does it keep raining or not? Now it's extreme. GP: We have this rain only for another 4 minutes, Max. Max: Okay! fuck. And after that, it's dry or no rain? ..... if it's only for 4 minutes, I will stay out. Max: You need to advise with the radar. I don't know that. GP: Yeah, don't worry Max. Just chatting there. I will let you know. GP: You still happy with the flap? Max: yeah. GP: VSC ending, Max. VSC ending. Max: Fuck, it's a lot of water but..

LAP 29 ; End of the VSC then the session green flagged (Nor, Rus, Tsu and Law pits)

Max: I will just try a lap. GP: stay out recharge off. Just be very careful please, Max. Very careful. (..) GP: So Max, Russell and Norris have pitted for inters. They are behind you. you are effective P2 on track. Just keep it on track mate. Keep it on track.

LAP 30 ; Safety car deployed because of the heavy rain

GP: Ocon ahead 41. All good, just keep it on track. Max: Mate! this is a red. It needs to be a red. GP: Ok safety car deployed, Max. Safetry car deployed. Dash positive, Dash positive. (..) GP: All drivers have said exactly the same thing, Max. I've got no idea what's going on! Max: yeah, it's too dangerous this. GP: just stay out..

LAP 31

GP: Safety car is at turn 4, Max. Turn 4. Max: Yeah the track is filling up with water like massive rivers. This is undrivable. GP: Well, we didn't qualify yesterday in conditions better than this, so I'm not sure what's going on, Max, but the safety car is picking up at turn 5. GP: we're expecting another h– gp ded

LAP 32 ; Colapinto Crashes and brings a red flag

Max: My tyres are just like a boat.

LAP 33

Max: We go again to the pits, yeah? GP: Yep. Max: Even at 70, the pits, I can't see where I'm going. GP: Yeah, we're expecting another very heavy shower in about 5 to 10 minutes. Max: The track is already completely soaked, so it's going to be a long wait. Max: I think I can jump out, yeah? GP: Yeah, I think you can jump out very quickly, Max.

[150en]

Oh snappers? I barely even know her I'll snappers your bones!

[prudentseer]

This is simultaneously the worse and the best thing I have ever watched live

[semi-completely-original]

a twitter mutual of mine and i recently became fast friends and started up a minecraft server together as hkv (not as a roleplay thing but more of like. a gimmick. a gag perhaps. they're just our skins) and let me tell u. some of the interactions we've been having are canon as Fuck

[downfalldestiny]

Voyage, Voyage 🌊⛵ !.

[knownoshamc]

I know Armand wasn't himself for a lot of his relationship with Louis, and that Louis had a lot of grief etc, but... I love that Louis at least (since we see his point of view) seems to know those little things about Armand, like watching the boats at the harbour, knows how to soothe him with the shoulder rub and dozens other things we don't know about. He knows these little, unimportant things, but aren't little things like these that make a life with someone else? And I'm sure that makes the whole breakup even more difficult to get over, because he was there not just for the drama, but for just... routines, everyday life. It's like... you're used to hearing someone's footsteps in the house and you are alone now, but you still expect to hear them, you still turn around expecting to see them.

[emaadsidiki]

Pink Haze Paris France 🌆 سنہری جامنی گلابی شام

[hairmetal666]

Eddie's supposed to be writing. The guys, they all agreed they'd each come to practice armed with two whole new songs they could pick from to add to their set list at the Hideout. And he's got his pen, and he's got his most recent trusty Composition Book, and all his lyrics are fucking bullshit about golden tanned skin and honeyed eyes and tracing constellations in freckles and moles, pathetic lines about being twisted in bed sheets, and the hopeless love he found himself in.

For the fifth time in an hour, he rips out the offending page, crunches it into a tight ball, and throws it across the room.

He can't write about Steve Harrington for the rest of his life; spend his nights aching for the boy who established himself as a fixture in Eddie's life and then just disappeared.

The worst of it--the very worst--is that Eddie knew better. Steve was never his, not in any real way, no matter how many times they fucked. He's Steve Harrington. Straightest guy in Hawkins. Popular. Rich. Whole fucking life laid out for him on a silver platter. And Eddie fell for him. It's the Munson curse, he supposes; always wanting what you can't have.

It started the way these things usually do, "got any weed?" and "come back to my place, Harrington" and "I got this stupid job at the mall, meet me there?" and lying "hey, guys, can't make band practice, gotta help Uncle Wayne" and "Munson, I really want--can I kiss you?"

In every other fantasy Eddie's ever had, it ends there. Steve gets his kiss and they never see each other again. But Steve Harrington--he's full of surprises. It catches Eddie off guard, makes him want, makes him trust. Because it's not just kisses. It's hands and mouths and "anything you want, Eddie. Let me make you feel good."

Maybe it wouldn't have hit so hard--maybe Eddie could've stopped from falling--if Steve hadn't been so good. Bitchy, sure, but genuine and kind. Had this whole gaggle of junior high kids he babysat, like what the fuck. Would hang out with Wayne and shoot the shit about whatever sports nonsense was on tv. Harrington never was as mean, as spoiled, as superficial as Eddie suspected.

Then Starcourt. That's when it all changes. Steve stops coming around then, in the aftermath. It hurts, but Eddie tells himself it's for the best. Now, he knows it would have been.

Two weeks with no contact, and Steve shows up at his door in the middle of the night. Eddie winces at the healing bruises and cuts on his face, can't imagine how much worse they were to start. He steps aside, lets Steve in, plans to say that he can't be whatever they are anymore.

Steve kisses him. It's a hot, needy thing, wild with teeth and tongue, nothing like before. Eddie is helpless to it, helpless to the way Steve grinds against him, already hard. He should slow it down, check-in that Steve is in the right headspace for this, but Steve is moaning low in his throat and Eddie can't think.

They're in Eddie's bed and Steve says, "fuck me, Eddie?" and Eddie says "are you sure" because he can't stop himself. Steve rolls his eyes (beautifuly bitchy), says, "I need to feel you inside me, baby."

How can Eddie say no?

Eddie's never done this before, but it doesn't matter. It's everything--Steve is everything--he could ask for.

The next morning, he expects Steve to be gone. Thinks they'll never see each other again. But he finds Steve in the kitchen, in his boxers and Eddie's Iron Maiden shirt, making eggs and talking to Wayne like it's the most normal thing in the world.

The next month and a half are the best of Eddie's life. He and Steve spend more time together than they do apart. Nights at Eddie's trailer, in Eddie's bed. Days lounging at the Harrington pool and driving around the nothing that surrounds Hawkins. Sometimes they'll stop in the middle of nowhere, climb on top of the van, and just--be. Steve takes his shirt off, and Eddie traces their names in the sun-soaked freckles, thinking maybe he really gets to have this, have Steve.

It ends as quickly as it started. One morning in September, Steve is cupping Eddie's neck, pulling him in for a goodbye kiss, saying, "sorry, baby, gotta get home for my parents. I'll see you later tonight, yeah?"

Except Eddie doesn't. Eddie doesn't see Steve that night, or the night after, or the night after that. He stops coming around and all Eddie is left with is a broken heart and these piss poor excuses for songs.

He rips out the latest page, waxing lyrical about the wonders of August, and time slipping away, and the boy he'll never forget. Crumples it into a ball and bats it into a pile of junk accumulated in the corner of his room.

Eddie needs a break.

He flies into the living room, snatches up his keys from the floor by the coffee table, and flees his house and all those memories of Steve. It's not like he has anywhere specific to go, so he drives around town, with his windows down and his music up.

His tires screech as he rounds the corner to the video store and arcade. He's not planning on stopping, but honestly, maybe a few rounds of Space Invaders is exactly what he needs.

The van hasn't even come to a stop in the parking spot when his eyes fall on Steve Harrington. He's standing in the middle of the parking lot surrounded by a gang of kids (including some of Eddie's new little sheepies) and Robin Buckley. Steve wears a sunny yellow sweatshirt, tight jeans, and his hair is perfectly coifed, falling in an elegant wave. His hands are on his hips, mouth and brows pinched stern. He's gorgeous, perfect.

It's an assault, an attack, Eddie's entire body shakes as the months they spent together crash over him. He has the van in reverse before he consciously thinks to do so, flooring it out of the space hard enough to burn rubber.

The noise, the speed, it draws the entire group's attention to him.

His eyes meet Steve's.

Time stops and so does he, idling in the middle of the parking lot. For a second, one moment in time, Steve's face falls. His mouth loses that grumpy pinch, his eyebrows drop, his beauty transformed by grief, by fucking longing.

Steve takes a step forward, and Eddie hits the gas, van screaming out of the parking lot. He watches the group shrink in his rearview mirror, sure that he imagined the sorrow in Steve's face, anyway.

They're nothing to each other.

Never were.

By popular request: Part Two

[frame-narrative]

[wren-kitchens]

it- to be clear, joel kind of knew from the start. 

he’s seen the way etho puts on that pathetic little pout, and that oh-so-sad voice that he knows doesn’t actually mean anything other than etho wants something and thinks joel will probably say no otherwise. joel noticed all of this immediately- it's not like etho's subtle about it, is he? in his defence, gem didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary- or at least, she didn't mention it, so joel wasn't super sure if it actually meant anything weird. and- okay, yeah, fine- etho's stupid little voice and everything may be somewhat effective on him.

of course, joel did spot that mischievous little look on etho's face as he took joel's hand and led him to the bridge, because- well, how could you not? he didn’t seem to be up to anything awful, and he didn't look guilty- like that one time he tried to convince joel into giving him free glow ink. besides, he was still going on about how mean bdubs was to him, and joel didn’t really want to miss it; etho's very funny when he’s offended.

maybe it was a little bit his fault, because when etho started hanging back a little, joel sort of stepped in front of him on instinct. it's not like he died or anything- bdubs didn’t even die and he was standing right on the trap, so it's not like there was any consequence. but- yeah, joel didn’t actually consider that etho was backing away from a danger, he just kind of assumed he was nervous. which isn't far fetched- that guy seems to be constantly nervous about something or other in the life series. 

but- well, whilst gem was laughing at tango and bdubs, joel didn’t even think to be mad at etho for leading him into a trap—even if it was a shit one. frankly, he- well. it's really very stupid, actually, but- he was just. kind of glad to be holding etho's hand still. which is- that's not weird! y’know, they’re soulmates, he'll have you know; that's a normal thing for soulmates to do. if you think that's weird, go have a look at tango and jimmy- they’re the weird ones. not joel. he’s normal. 

gem made fun of him on the way back, because of course she noticed that they were holding hands. not that there's anything weird about it- gem is wrong here. it- she didn’t have a soulmate, so- y’know. she doesn’t know what normal soulmate stuff is. that's a her problem. 

anyway. she didn’t seem to see the way etho squeezed his hand when they were leaving, so. it's whatever.

[riding-the-sunset-bird]

Help, I took Baxter seriously in the arm wrestling contest and still lost, this man is strong 😭

Boating was made before the Baxter DLC where he was revealed to be Kind of Weak Actually™ and I don't think it was edited after the DLC came out to compensate, so that's definitely a factor.

I've talked about this before, but if you played Boating before Hang, that's why. It also can't be Baxter's version of Hang, it has to be Cove's. Your MC also has to be toned (a little muscle definition) or buff (noticeable muscles).

Basically, arm wrestling Baxter in Boating goes like this:

If the player has played Cove's version of Hang:

○ If the MC is buff or toned:

○○ The MC wins.

○ If the MC is shapely (soft/delicate):

○○ Baxter wins.

If the player has not played Cove's version of Hang:

○ Baxter wins.

So you can only win under those circumstances. Baxter's version of Hang has a different variable set than Cove's that the game doesn't account for, so it checks for Cove's version of Hang only and will let Baxter win automatically otherwise. The MC's athletic points don't even factor in.

[luck-of-the-drawings]

[OLD ART ALERT] A COLLECTION OF SCENES FROM THE GILLIONS CATSCRATCH ARC THAT BROUGHT ME GREAT JOY. i love fishy chips especially when its just gillion being delirious and violent and hostile

[pollyna]

After, after, they gave his name to a carrier. The Navy never received so many votes for a single name, but she is brand new, shiny, and bigger than the other carrier. They say it is a she, but they call it USS Thomas J. Kazansky because no other name would fit.

Slider serves on in it the his last few years before retirement, Bradley is there more than he's not and Mav doesn't want to hear that name, see it or even imagine what it looks like. Sarah goes to the launch, and Mav spends the night hugging Tom's pillow and desperately trying to remember the feeling of his husband's arms around him.

[goingdownorup]

Favorite part of Tango’s newest stream, Etho’s laugh, tango’s and Joel’s confusion, Skizz’s quiet concentration before being so excited about it working, I love team ties so much (and boat boy moments lmao)

[jq37]

neme(sis)

Summary: The Rat Grinders actually fight the Bad Kids on the Hangman instead of just sending dragons and Adaine has to do some quick thinking.

"Adaine Abernant."

Adaine winced, clutching her head as Raulothim's Psychic Lance pierced her mind. It figured Oisin knew the spell. Raulothim was a dragon after all. She wondered if he learned it in class like her or if he'd come to school already familiar with the spell because of his dragon ancestor who was currently trying to swallow Gorgug, axe and all. She didn't wonder for too long though. There wasn't time.

"See what you can do with access to proper spell components?" Oisin called from the other side of the room, his tone mocking.

"That spell doesn't even have material components!" Adaine called back in spite of herself. Insulting her was one thing but getting basic spellcraft wrong while doing it? Unacceptable. She ignored his expression, smug from getting a rise out of her no doubt, and surveyed the battlefield. The Rat Grinders had caught them on their back foot. Things were going OK but they were playing defense. And no one was where they needed to be. Spellcasters too close to melee, fighters out of range. Only Gorgug was arguably in the right place but he was far too close to being dragon food for her liking. Fabian needed to be closer to the action, Riz needed cover, and she…

Adaine suppressed a smile, idea forming in her mind. She needed to be in punching distance.

"Scatter," she said, raising a hand. Five creatures: Gorgug, Riz, Fabian, Kristen…and Oisin.

Her party members didn't fight the spell, well used to the feeling of her magic working on them mid-battle and knowing that it never meant harm. As she moved them to more advantageous positions, she was hit with a flash of the future: Oisin resisting the spell. She reached out and nudged fate just a bit. Nearby, Ivy walked dangerously close to a breath weapon attack. Oisin startled, moved to grab her, and--pop. Suddenly, he was standing right next to Adaine who was already rearing her fist.

"Counterspell!" Oisin called, runes on his forearms glowing. The expression on his face was even more smug as the blue energy charging on her fist fizzled.

"Predictable," he said.

"Gullible," Adaine thought, halting her fist without following through on the punch and stomping her foot on the ground to activate the teleportation circle they were both now standing on. Because of course the boy with the empty house and unlimited funds would have a teleportation circle installed so he could have his friends over as often as possible. Teleportation via spell needed a willing creature but a Circle? That just needed proximity.

As the spell went off, she concentrated. The benefit of a teleportation circle was that it couldn't go wrong like a normal Teleport spell could. It wasn't supposed to anyway. But any magic could be tweaked if you pushed hard enough. She remembered winding up in the wrong room in the twisted version of Mordred inside Riz's briefcase and concentrated on that feeling. She was sure she was going to have a headache in the morning but that was more than a fair price. She wrenched control of the spell, just enough to force the circle to spit them out a little bit outside of the paired circle in Mordred. There was a flash of light and--forget having a headache tomorrow. Her head felt like it had been bashed in with a pickaxe the moment they landed on the floor of her bedroom. She didn't think she'd be able to get back up for a minute or two--she didn't even try. Oisin didn't seem to have that problem though. He got up and stood over her.

He smirked. "I thought the elven oracle was supposed to be more of a challenge. I knew we'd come out on top but I didn't think it'd be so easy." He raised his hands, readying a spell, but the sparks at his clawtips died as quickly as they were produced. He tried the spell again to the same result, too focused to notice the sudden subtle sheen to the patterns painted on her bedroom walls.

A Sending spell pinged in her mind. "Ten seconds, dear sister."

A smile played on Adaine's lips.

"What?" Oisin demanded.

"Just that you all have been so obsessed with being our nemeses this whole time. But that was never gonna happen with you and me. That position is already filled."

There was another flash of light and before it even cleared, Adaine felt the tingle of magic settling over her like a second skin. Her sister's abjurer's ward extending to cover her reflexively. Just beyond the ward, she could feel the temperature in the room start to drop--a side effect of the Cone of Cold that was about to erupt from Aelwyn's outstretched hands.

"You're familiar with my bitch of a sister, right?"