#red eye flight

[sohannabarberaesque]

Postcards from Snagglepuss

Thoughts on a red-eye flight from Long Beach to Chicago

"I do have to admit, Snagglepuss," Huckleberry Hound remarked on what must have been his third cup of in-flight coffee, "that a winter's diving experiences turned out to be ever remarkable."

"So it was ... SO IT WAS!!" saith I. "Even though there were no mermaid encounters ensuing."

Which had Huck remarking in sheer disbelief that "was it really necessary that a diving vacation had to have a mermaid encounter?"

"Well ... it just came across my head."

"But to be frank about it, Peter Potamus can certainly be quite the one to spark some interest in diving, if you ask me. Somewhat underappreciated a water sport, if you ask me."

Whereupon the stewardess cleared out our coffee-related debris and hubris after what must have seemed quite the coffee-drinking session leaving Long Beach. And we just hope it was decaf, come to think of it. Especially with the plane landing at Chicago Midway Airport in the early morning hours; in fact, we chose Midway for the flight to Chicago inasmuch as it was closer to the Loop area than O'Hare International. Once in Chicago, perhaps some breakfast at Lou Mitchell's in the Loop, the traditional eastern terminal of the legendary Route 66, and discuss some summer plans, maybe a Character Convocation or two. Which will certainly be the subject of the next such Postcard.

*************

@warnerbrosentertainment @jellystone-enjoyer @ultrakeencollectionbreadfan @iheartgod175 @groovybribri @artistic-octopus @archive-archives @themineralyoucrave @thylordshipofbutts @screamingtoosoftly @thebigdingle @warnerbros-blog1 @indigo-corvus @funtasticworld @railguner34 @theweekenddigest @warnerbrosent-blog

[thekimspoblog]

No movie makes me feel like Hereditary does.

Some people complained that the supernatural twist ruined the ending. But no; the ending was the best part. Without the ending, it would just be another drama. But it's a genius commentary on human desire to believe "everything happens for a reason"... even when that reason is bad!

[loose-potato]

4am starbucks except it's 7am here and i haven't slept

[cordspaghetti]

ok thinking about the shows more while i wait at the airport, just going to ramble. i love mcr. i expect grandiosity from them and i feel like they brought that by sort of performing in front of a blank monument to the Thing that is the black parade. and i feel like the experience they built on stage was very psychological maybe like as opposed to sensory or physical as u might with pyro, sculptural set pieces etc—they brought shadows, minimal projections, their german expressionist visual influence, lights… it was all kind of immaterial. which i think bore some connection to the interiority of the black parade as an album all essentially happening in the patient’s mind (most likely from within the confines of white hospital walls, even) and also allowed the audience to project whatever they wanted onto the stage. or like, the band will not show you what the black parade is supposed to mean to you now and they won’t show you what it was supposed to mean to you then. they are just there to make it real for 2 nights. and to command you to feel to the fullest i think, whatever those feelings may be or i guess whatever the album may bring to you. gerard’s speech about violent grief felt like a plain grant of permission & i am glad that they kind of stopped us in our tracks with that. i don’t know. from extraordinary narratives to larger-than-life productions mcr like to process heavy realities through beautiful fictions and for those shows i feel like the audience was what realized that aspect of their art—the presence of however many tens of thousands of people gathered together to scream every word an album front to back—it was amazing and i don’t know how to compute it. it was very silent from where i was between songs also, like we had some kind of singular mission. doesn’t that sound like mcr? it felt like we were their beautiful fiction

[gayeddieagenda]

for your consideration… 🍻📽️😳 + 55: tracing the lines on the other’s hand

another scene prompt game! this one is for real long sorryyyyy. also it features the actual smallest amount of blood u can imagine, but it IS there. and it IS plot critical.

--

“You’re right,” Buck called. “They’re all Pokemon.”

“I’m really fine,” Eddie said.

Buck came back into the living room, box of band-aids and Eddie’s first aid kit—not the everyday one, the big one, from way in the back of the cabinet under the sink—in hand. Eddie didn’t even know how he’d known where to find that one. “No,” Buck said. “You’re getting Pokemon.”

Eddie pulled a face.

It really, really was not a big deal. It was a Friday night with no Christopher around—Denny and some mutual friends were doing a video game night and sleepover at the Wilson’s—so Buck had shown up at Eddie’s at seven with takeout from the banh mi place, the good one that he had to drive nearly to Chim and Maddie’s to get. Eddie swung the grocery store after dropping off Chris and picked them up plenty of beer—a pack of Buck’s usual brand and then a weird one, whatever seasonal flavor Eddie could find that he knew Buck would love trying just as much as he would hate actually having to drink it.

They ate at the dining room table, decanting the takeout onto real plates. After cleanup, they settled into the living room couch like they meant to stay there a while. Eddie made a show out of squabbling with Buck over the movie choice, before making just as much of a show out of giving in.

It was a Friday night. It was a well-worn routine, as comfortable as the old t-shirts Eddie had had almost as long as he’d had Christopher. Tonight was the same as every other night they’d had for the past six, seven years. It was pretty much Eddie’s definition of perfect.

Until—

Something happened with the bottle opener. Eddie still wasn’t sure what, only that he’d been trying to open the beer and watch the screen and talk to Buck all at once, and then suddenly something slipped and now he had a shallow scrape running the length of three knuckles on the back of his left hand, weakly leaking blood.

“Hand,” Buck said now. Eddie rolled his eyes, but did as he was told, holding out his hand to Buck.

Buck settled himself back on the couch next to Eddie. He took Eddie’s hand and set it gingerly in his lap. 

Gently, he pressed a cloth against Eddie’s knuckles. Three little spots of blood soaked slowly into it, each smaller than the last.

“See,” Eddie said. “It’s nothing.”

Buck ignored him. When he was satisfied the bleeding had stopped—in Eddie’s opinion, it had barely started—he got the Neosporin spray out of the first aid kit. After the Neosporin was on, it was Pokemon time. Eddie got a Pikachu, a Magikarp, and a round blue guy he didn’t recognize, carefully Tetris’d together to cover the scrapes around the ridges of Eddie’s knuckles.

“Will I make it?” Eddie said drily.

“Consider yourself lucky there was a firefighter in the house,” Buck said.

He was still holding Eddie’s hand.

Neither of them had bothered to pause the movie when Eddie started bleeding. On the screen, a car spun out of control dramatically, then exploded.

Buck turned Eddie’s hand in his, flipping it so his palm was facing the ceiling. His eyes were on the TV. Eddie almost could’ve convinced himself he didn’t realize he was doing it, fidgeting with Eddie’s hand the way he sometimes did with pens or a walkie-talkie at work, if it weren’t for how carefully he was touching Eddie.

Buck’s thumb found the soft center of Eddie’s palm. He ran his thumb up Eddie’s hand, following the curved line that outlined the meat of Eddie’s thumb. His touch was feather-light.

Eddie couldn’t help it. He shivered, and Buck looked up.

“Sorry,” Eddie said.

Buck’s nose crinkled. “I can stop,” he said, not moving.

“I, uh.” Another explosion on the screen, lighting the side of Buck’s face up in orange. “I don’t mind.”

The corners of Buck’s mouth lifted, a smile so small it could barely be called a smile.

He looked down at his lap, where he was still holding Eddie’s hand in both of his own. Eddie followed his gaze.

It was just Eddie’s hand. The lines across his palm showed up clear and mostly unbroken, which his abuela used to tell him meant something. Eddie couldn’t remember what. He had calluses on his palms, some from work, some from the gym. On his index finger, he had a thin scar, a relic of a kitchen chopping mishap when he was twenty.

Buck began moving his thumbs in small circles across Eddie’s palm. He started light, barely brushing Eddie’s skin, so gently that it was almost uncomfortable.

Eddie breathed in slowly through his nose and tried not to move.

When Buck dug his right thumb in a little deeper, right at the joints where Eddie’s fingers connected his palm, where his hands got stiff after a particularly long day, Eddie made a quiet, involuntary noise.

Buck looked up.

This, they didn’t do. They were physical with each other, always had been, in ways that Eddie never thought bore commenting on. They were on top of each other on the job, more often than they weren’t, squeezed in knee-to-knee in the truck and reaching over each other with practiced ease in the field. At home, they were even worse. Fridays had room for a lot of things—for knocking into each other in the kitchen when they cleaned up after dinner and tussling for the best seat on the couch. Elbows bumping together on the couch, hands brushing when Eddie handed Buck another beer. Sometimes, Buck fell asleep on Eddie halfway through the second movie, his head a heavy weight on Eddie’s shoulder. Sometimes, they fought over the remote, wrestling each other on the couch until one of them dragged the other all the way down to the living room rug.

Touching Buck—being touched by Buck—was nothing new to Eddie. This, though…

Eddie could feel the hairs standing up on the back of his neck. Eddie had an old feeling brewing in the pit of his stomach—the yawning sense that they were standing on the brink of something.

Somewhere in the back of Eddie’s head, he’d been waiting for something like this. For a moment, when all the things they’d been holding back between the two of them came bubbling up to the surface. He’d never said it outright, not even in his own head, but sometimes, Buck looked at him and Eddie just knew that something was coming. A breaking point. When Buck would look at him and Eddie would look back and they would both know—okay, now. here we go.

This, though—he wasn't sure this felt like it.

This was...this was nothing. This was a Friday night. This was pumpkin beer and Eddie's bandaged knuckles and the stupid action movie still playing on the TV. This was so totally, spectacularly unremarkable.

He’d thought, when it was time, that he would know. It would be something they couldn’t ignore. They both knew what it felt like to experience the world at scale. Earthquakes, tsunamis, fire and lightning. This wasn’t that.

If something as small as Buck holding Eddie’s hand was enough to break open this thing between them, it would’ve happened a long, long time ago.

Wouldn’t it?

Eddie looked down. Buck was still holding Eddie’s hand in his lap, his thumb making little aimless circles in the center of his palm.

“What are you doing?” Eddie asked.

Buck stilled. “I don’t know.”

Eddie tried again. “What, uh. What are we doing?”

Buck shook his head, wordlessly.

Eddie tilted his head back up to look at him. His eyes were huge in the half-light, the glow of the TV and the light from the hall he’d left on when he went looking for the first aid kit. They stared at each other for a long, drawn-out moment.

Then Buck giggled. The tension broke. And suddenly, Eddie wasn’t uncertain anymore.

He closed his hand around Buck’s. Eddie looked at him.

“Okay,” Eddie said quietly. “I’m just gonna…”

He leaned in, slow and deliberate, giving Buck all the time in the world to figure out where he was going with this. Buck didn’t move, didn’t pull away, didn’t blink. When Eddie kissed Buck, it was barely a kiss, putting his mouth on Buck’s as lightly as Buck had first touched Eddie’s hand.

Buck made a quiet noise into Eddie’s mouth and then they were kissing for real, Buck pressing into him almost hard enough to knock their teeth together.

It was a good feeling, kissing Buck, the kind of raw good feeling that Eddie couldn’t remember feeling in a long, long time. Maybe he’d never felt something quite like this. Eddie could get lost in this, he was pretty sure, in the closeness, in the feeling of Buck’s mouth opening under his, in the quiet noise Buck made when Eddie put his hand in the short hairs at the back of his neck.

When they finally separated, Buck’s face was flushed a bright red. Eddie had a feeling he looked about the same.

Eddie swallowed. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears. “Was that okay?”

“No, it was awful,” Buck said. “What the hell do you mean, was it okay?”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “We haven’t done that before, jackass,” he said. “I mean, should we talk about this?”

“Oh,” Buck said. “Sure.” He picked at the hem of his shorts with his free hand, the one that wasn’t still holding Eddie’s hand between them. His eyes flicked down to Eddie’s mouth and back up again. “We can talk, if that’s what you want to do.”

Eddie let out a sigh, faux-exasperated. “Shut up,” he said, and hauled Buck back into a kiss, both of them smiling into it.

They kissed and kissed and kissed. They didn’t stop when the movie credits started rolling or when the TV switched itself off automatically, the room darkening around them. They didn’t stop until Buck had kissed the scars on Eddie’s shoulder and the one on his wrist and the goddamn Pokemon band-aids across his knuckles and a lot of other places besides.

It was a Friday night. They’d had a lot of good Friday nights over the years. Eddie had a feeling this one was going to be pretty hard to beat.

[replikafan]

[shopwitchvamp]

The Fall Collection Sneak Peek

Witch Vamp design test prints are here!!!

Evil Eye Joggers // Seventh Circle Joggers (designed by @themikeydeano) // Flight Maxi // Vampyre Maxi / Midi / Mini // Demon Summoning Skater // Sacrifice Midi / Mini

Placeholder preview listings are up in the shop now, so feel free to start wishlisting & signing up for in stock alerts! The Fall Collection will drop later this month. Keep an eye out for more info soon~

🖤witchvamp.com🖤

[bawkrya]

btw, i'm not attached to this pair at all unfortunately, so would anyone be interested in grabbing them from me? I gened them completely myself so I was hoping maybe 200g~ to sell them together, 100g per individual

Both are XXY Obsidian/Wisteria with Faded shadow eyes. can dm me here or on site @ phrauge!

[nocternalrandomness]

Red-eye flight coming out of JFK

[editfandom]

Jackson Rippner - Red Eye, 2005

[bam-monsterhospital]

so help me flight rising

did you just arbitrarily decide to change how your "glowing" eyes work? did you just decide this filter of monstrosity was better than the previous actually-looks-like-glowing mostly white headlight-outlined-with-the-dragon's-element-colour-around-it eyes???

flight rising i don't caaaaaare if this is more accurate to old depictions of mothman, WHAT ARE YOU DOINGggggg

please be a glitch.

[capnhanbers]

some twoeys i drew on a 2am flight from dallas

[cactustreesmotel]

airport time... made it through the hell of security and now we're chilling at the gate. toronto here we comeeeee

[snail-edits]

[starfala-dragons]

Unfortunatly both of my dusty eggs were duds :/ But! The cherry spore tertiary instantly made me think of Malzeno from Monster Hunter~ But im having a slight bit of issue choosing the Primary

[ratxklng]

FEED ME TO THE CROWS | JHARIAH - Flight of the Crows

[ another redraw, more recent this time ]