#save me virtual blunt

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Obedience Training.

Pairing: Yandere!Illumi x Reader (HxH).

Commissioned by the very lovely @h2o2-and-baking-soda.

Word Count: 1.6k.

TW: Kidnapping, Prolonged Imprisonment, Physical/Psychological Abuse, Pet Play, Dehumanization, and Controlling Behavior.

The ring was beyond repair.

It was the ugly kind of damage, too – the gold chipped and dented, some parts entirely flattened while others had scratched and tarnished to the point of virtual unrecognizability. The jewel itself (a diamond the color of the sky just before sunrise and the size of the nail on your pointer finger) had been pried out of its casing and polished with the blunt side of the hammer you’d pilfered from collection of one of the more forgetful servants. Any fragments that might’ve been worth salvaging were then washed down the sink of your en suite, and the near-microscopic remnants glistened against the table’s dark mahogany – twinkling whenever they caught the ample sunlight.

It'd been his mother’s ring; albeit, one of countless. Breaking it in such an obviously deliberate way had been a stupid thing to do, and a part of you must’ve known that while you were doing it. A part of you must’ve basked in the idiotic rage of it all, must’ve been dying to see what Illumi would be like when he couldn’t hide behind those big, blank eyes and that unreadable expression. As hazy as it seemed, you could remember being excited to see how Illumi would react, what he thought he could do to you that he hadn’t already put you through.

Now, though, standing next to him as he evaluated the damage, watching as those dark, glossy eyes skirted from the splintered wood to the decimated ring to the sparkling residue…

You weren’t excited, anymore.

Several seconds passed in silent paralysis. Images of braided rope and rusted chains and broken legs flashed through your subconscious, but he managed to draw you out of your spiraling thoughts with a low hum, a startling click of his tongue. Finally, he turned toward you and raised a hand, and you braced yourself for the feeling his fist around your neck, two fingers piercing the fragile bone of your skull, his pointed nails clawing out your eyes and leaving you to ble—

His palm came to rest on top of your head, petting over your hair gently. “Sweetheart,” he muttered with a tone as warm and as affectionate as a corpse in a snowstorm. “Would you come with me?”

You opened your mouth, but closed it again just as quickly. You nodded, the gesture stilted and jerky, and Illumi offered an approving smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, letting his hand fall to your wrist. He pressed a lingering kiss into the top of your head before tugging you gently towards the door.

Neither of you spoke as he guided you through the halls of his mansion. Usually, you could count on running into one of the sociopaths that made up his family or a member of their bloodthirsty staff whenever you left your room, but today, his sprawling home seemed to be vacant, lifeless, as empty as the killers who dwelled inside of it. Steadily, you moved downward, the marble walls turning to rough stone, the filtered sunlight soon traded out for the artificial glow of dim gas lamps. He didn’t drag his feet or try to prolong your walk to the gallows, but he didn’t rush, either, didn’t seem to be in any rush to carry out your inevitably punishment. Eventually, he came to a stop in front of a simple wooden door – unremarkable in every aspect save for the deep well of dread it managed to dredge up inside of you.

With little ceremony, the door was pushed open and you were ushered inside of ahead of him. Your attention quickly fell onto the object most immediately in front of you: a dog crate.

It was almost shockingly mundane; not overly massive, but big enough for a large pitbull or golden retriever, the bars thin but close together and the bottom cushioned by a small bed with pink and white paw prints splattered across it. A handful of miscellaneous items had been laid on top of it. Your attention caught on the collar, first, the cutesy type with a bell and fake (or, knowing Illumi, very real) gemstones studded into the leather and a matching leash, and then headband with what couldn’t be—

Illumi moved past you, approaching the crate and taking up the undeniably, indisputably dog-eared headband. He turned it over in his hands once, then twice, before speaking. “Strip.”

It sounded like gibberish; partially muffled by the static buzzing over your conscious mind and made even more difficult to process by your own unwillingness to do so. “What?”

“Strip,” he repeated. “Or I’ll break every bone in your right hand.”

It was the specificity of the threat (paired with the implication that your left wouldn’t be long to follow) that had your shaking hands reaching for the hem of your shirt and hauling it over your head. You looked towards him for approval after every shed article, but he only seemed to notice your obedience at all when you stood bare and vulnerable in front of him, completely unprotected from both his prying gaze and the chill of the damp dungeon air. You started to move towards him, but he stopped you with a quick shake of his head, a new softness to his expression. “Kneel.”

With a shallow breath, you complied, lowering yourself onto your knees. Now, now, he took his time, his terrible eyes raking over your trembling form as he came to stand in front of you. The collar was fastened around your neck deftly, the leash allowed to hang loose and pool in your lap. He was more careful with the headband – meticulously lining it up with your ears, your face before sliding it into place with a satisfied hum. In a very distant, very muted way, you found that you were surprised less that your hitman-turned-kidnapper would have a pet play lair hidden away in some dark corner of his basement, and more that the aforementioned kidnapper would use that pet play lair to dress you up as a dog, rather than a cat. Illumi was as cat-like as a man could be – silent and skulking, prone to digging his claws into what he loved most – but the more you thought about it, the more sense it made. Cats were smart and sly and perfectly capable of surviving on their own, whereas dogs were stupid and clumsy and almost painfully reliant on their owners. People get cats because they want something that can choose to love them back. People get dogs because they want something that doesn’t have another choice.

“I--Illumi,” you managed, his name still awkward and bitter on your tongue. “I… I’m really sorry, and I’ve learned my lesson, and—”

One second, you were staring at his feet, and the next, your head was snapped to the side, a searing pain stitched deeply into your cheek. His open palm slipped downward, cupping your chin and tilting your head back, forcing you to face him properly. “Good pets don’t talk.” His tone was shockingly sweet, coercive, as if he was trying to explain something very simple to a very stupid child. “Good pets only follow commands. Can you do that for me, puppy?”

Tears were starting to gather in the corners of your eyes, a tight knot lodging itself at the base of your throat, but you did your best to keep both at bay. You started to nod, then thought better of it, straightening your back and squaring your shoulders, trying to communicate the only thing you could seem to think – please don’t hurt me please don’t hurt me please don’t hurt me – without giving him a reason to land another blow. In the end, he rewarded you with the ghost of a smile, his free hand held in front of your mouth. “Good puppy. Now lick.”

You hesitated, but the steady ache pounding in your cheek was enough to make you swallow your pride. Your tongue darted out from between trembling lips, and with no small amount of trepidation, you lapped over the back of his closed fist. He let you begin to pull away before moving – before forcing two fingers into your open mouth and pressing the pads of his digits into the back of your throat. You gagged, your body instinctually recoiling, but he didn’t relent, his thumb digging into your jaw as he held you in place. Your hands shot to his thighs, the tears you’d forced back resurfacing and flooding down your cheeks, but he didn’t budge, didn’t pull away until you were gasping and breathless and utterly humiliated. Finally, he drew back, wiping his spit-soaked digits on your shoulder as his eyes moved from your open mouth to your hands, still balled around the fabric of his pants. “I have something upstairs for those,” he said, voice dripping with all the warmth and affection he usually denied you. “I’ll forgive you this time, puppy, but good pets shouldn’t be able to grab.”

He reached down, taking you by the leash. You were too detached to resist as he half-led, half-dragged you towards the crate. This time, you couldn’t stop yourself from shaking your head, from stammering out little ‘no, no, no’s as his fist curled around your collar and forced you past the metal gate and into the confined space, suddenly so much smaller than it’d seemed from the outside. You had just enough time to scramble for the door before Illumi slammed it shut, letting the clasp fall into place and leaving you withering inside the makeshift cage. You couldn’t stop yourself – hands curling around the bars as you looked toward him with your most pleading expression, but Illumi only shook his head. “You don’t have to sulk. Maybe, with some time, we’ll be able to move your bed somewhere warmer.”

He paused, his grin widening into the first real smile you’d ever earned from him.

“After you’ve proved you can be a good dog, of course.”

[olderthannetfic]

I accidentally killed my own desire to write, and I need some advice. To be really blunt about it, what's the point of writing? When I would spend lots of time laboring over making a good story with a plot and characters who were in-character and connecting all the dots narratively so payoffs were satisfying, my reward was dead silence and virtually no clicks. I posted some mindless smut to my side account one day and got more hits in a day than most of my other works combined got in a year. I know, I know. "Write for ~*~yourself~*~" is the common response. It's the "be yourself!" of writing. It's supposed to be a magical phrase that'll make everything okay. But... I don't like knowing that something I spend months working on won't be read by anyone while something I write in a car while bored got thousands of clicks. I don't like making something I'm proud of and then no one ever looks at it. That's not fun for me. It's not fulfilling.

For a solid decade, I've tried to ignore how the level of interactivity in fandom is falling. Fewer comments. Fewer kudos. No comments in the bookmarks. You put your tumblr and Discord in the AN and get a handful of asks and one person who adds you, talks to you twice and then ghosts you. Most of the comments are "well, actuallys", made even more annoying by them being wrong as opposed to actually correcting an error. I avoid fandom drama, wank, and infighting. I don't engage with things I know will make me unhappy. I try to be happy over in my own little corner. I comment on every single work I read. I want people to enjoy fandom. I used to.

Some dumb smut I wrote in 40 minutes gets five times the hits of the writing I'm most proud of, and it gets it in just under three months. I am not a great smut writer. I haven't stumbled onto an incredible talent I had that makes it so the issue is that I'm so amazing my smut brings all the boys to the yard. People just don't like what I write and put effort into. It's very likely that despite 20 years of writing fic, I suck at writing. And people enjoy my writing most when they don't have to put up with anything substantial and can just skip to the sex.

So for the last eight months, when I write, I just sort of give up. Close the Word doc without saving. No one will read this. No one cares about this. There is no fan eagerly awaiting every update like I await updates from my favorite authors. There's not even someone saying, "update soon!" Close the Word doc. Delete old WIPs. There's no point. I do not tell stories worth reading. I used to. In the FFN days people genuinely enjoyed my work. I'd never have had an opportunity to do the 'I won't update until I get 3 reviews' thing because getting that many on a chapter was usually something I'd do overnight. Post before bed. Wake up. Read the reviews before school. I peaked in high school, I guess.

And now I'm just sort of lost. I still have lots of ideas. Ideas for fics fall into my head all the time. That's never been a problem. What I don't have is any motivation to write them. What's the point of writing? If no one else is reading, I guess the point would be so I could go back and read my own story and have fun with it. Write for myself. But I can review the story and have fun with it in my head without writing it down. It's substantially faster and more importantly, isn't incredibly depressing.

So, at the risk of definitely being calld the second-coming of True Art Anon or a troll or validation-seeking or haha mentally ill haha... what's the point of writing?

--

Okay, so write porn in a car while you're bored.

Look, you can whine all you want about my response, but what you've written here is blatantly about depression.

Lots of people in fandom are still interacting. And no, it isn't just on fics that are objectively written to some pro fiction standard or whatever. Teenagers still breathlessly review poorly spelled cracky masterpieces about this year's big anime and so forth.

Yes, there may be reasons why you in particular are in a slump when it comes to fandom friendships or "plz update" comments. We can talk about that. But this ask is all gloom about fandom in general. That's not realism: that's you having a problem.

--

As for why a person should write: because the actual hours you spend doing the writing are fun.

If they aren't pleasurable in some way, find another hobby.

--

But if you want an answer to the age old "Why did my 5 minute fic get 1000000x more asspats", I've seen meta about this for literally decades.

The most likely reason is that the fic we write quickly and without much thought often feels fresher and more fun. The things we labor over endlessly can feel overworked. Even in cases where they don't, they're often heavier subject matter or more niche subject matter. On top of all that, we just care more, so even a high level of feedback doesn't really feel like enough for the effort and care we put in.

--

Do you really need me to tell you why you don't feel the same as in high school when things were fresh and new?

Go read up on combatting burnout or dealing with post-college anxiety or managing stress in a dead-end job in your 30s or finding meaning in your 40s or whatever is going on.

Everyone goes through fallow periods in fandom and in life.

Feeling reinvigorated has to do with internal factors and some general life circumstance stuff. It doesn't have that much to do with number of kudos. That's just the surface trigger for a mood that was already there.

[manfuckthisimout]

This look RAHHHHHH

Your relationship with your boss was an odd one. It was obvious to everyone in the precinct that you and the detective were more than just boss and secretary. But you would never admit that, and August D had a weird way of showing his fondness. It was the same way every workday—come in at 6:30, find the detective already at his desk, make him coffee, start the day. He would fuss and scold you for little things, make excuses to stay at your desk and talk to you.

You two kind of danced around each other, an unspoken possessive from the detective, and you playing coy until he finally fesses up that he likes you.

He storms out of his office while you’re scheduling his next meeting.

“Didn’t I tell you not to mix up these documents?” he says, holding up a manila file folder. He looks quite frustrated, cigarette hanging loosely from his mouth, suit jacket off and sleeves rolled past his forearms.

Yelling at you like this does virtually nothing in his favor—if anything it just makes you rub your thighs together. “I’m sorry sir,” you smooth out, batting your eyelashes up at him. “I thought your desk needed some tidying, and you were out in a case so..” He gives you a pointed look. “That doesn’t give you a reason to touch anything in my office. If I want you to tidy anything of mine, I’ll ask you to.” You nod, turning your attention back to the computer screen in front of you.

“Did you schedule my meeting with Captain Jung?” He asks, leaning over the front of your desk. You can feel him staring into your forehead, almost trying to make you squirm in your seat. “Of course sir, I just finished. Your meeting is for 4:30 today.” “Good.” He gives you one last long look over before pushing off your desk and walking back into his office.

You look up from your computer, staring at the deep mahogany that separates you and your boss. “Y’know, we have a running bet pool on which of you is gonna confess first.” Your coworker, Su-min slides over to your desk and props her hand under her chin. “What are you talking about? There’s nothing going on between me and him,” you sigh. “Sure. Tell it to the rest of us.” She chides back. “Don’t you have a case to be doing right now? That missing girl right? How long has it been?” “About a week or so. I really hope we can find her alive, but it’s starting to look grim.” She grimaces. “I hope you end up finding her either way—“

“Y/N! My office, now!”

Suddenly his door was cracked, and you could see him walking back to his desk, waiting for you.

You turn to Su-min and grimace. “Duty calls. Tell me about the case after I get done with this.” She grins at you. “Don’t start fooling around in there, keep it PG!” You roll your eyes, standing from your desk and walking into the detective’s office.

“You called for me detective?” You answer sweetly. “Sit. I have something to talk to you about.” You sit in one of the leather chairs in front of his desk, feeling his eyes on you the whole time. He gets up and rounds the front of his desk, leaning against it to look at you better. “We’ve known each other for quite sometime now,” he starts, arms folded and head down. He smirks. “You and I both know that I’ve been dancing around you these past years-“ “Is that what you call it sir?” He pauses. “Excuse me?” “Is that what you call it, this situation I mean. I was very aware of your feelings about me from the day we met sir. The whole precinct knows how you act around me.” “..I’ve been that bad at hiding it then?” “Pretty much.”

He sighs. “I know I haven’t been…vocal..about my feelings for you. I’d like to fix that. Do you want to go to lunch with me sometime?” You smile at his bluntness. He’s always been bad with words like this, saving his poetical vocabulary for high-stress situations with criminals. “What’s so funny?” He asks, brow raised, smile on his face. “You are. You’re so bad with words sir..” You giggle. He leans down, gripping either side of the arms on the chair. He’s so close to you now, noses almost touching. “I am, hm? And that’s funny?” You nod. He chuckles. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you.” “Lunch right? What time?” “Lunch time.” You grimace. “Well, I assumed that much. 12 or 1?” “12:30.” “12:30 it is. I’ll mark it on your personal calendar.”

He lifts himself from his position, rounding his desk again and sitting in his chair. He stares at you longingly. “I’d suggest you get back out there. Wouldn’t want to keep the office waiting on who won that bet.” You chuckle. “Yes sir.”

Second fic rawr

This came to me in a feverish daydream

Also because of boredom

Hope you like!!

[maximoff-pan]

you, me, and the destruction | eddie munson

summary: 4 times eddie makes you want to die (metaphorically of course) and one time he makes you want to live

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 7k

warning(s): some swears, angst, mentions of death, definitely canon divergent (please don't come for me)

a/n: another 4 + 1, who could’ve guessed? I really, really struggled with this one, but I haven't written or posted a ton lately, so I thought why not... I do hope you enjoy, but I apologize because I know this will likely be difficult to follow along with/make no sense whatsoever, so if you make it through to the end, thank you!

Eddie Munson makes you want to die. 

Not like a funny and jokingly crude ‘ha ha you make me wanna hurl myself into the sun’ kinda die, but like a dead serious ‘if you don’t shut up I’m going to commit mass murder and it’s going to be your fault’ kinda die. He’s that irritating. (You say that both seriously and affectionately, because your opinion of him has certainly changed over the last little while)...

But it’s an interesting concept to consider when you break it down, just how aggravating he can be. Sometimes you wonder where he gets it from; who could have possibly created this freak? And then you remember who his friends are, and it all makes sense. 

Blood didn’t create him, they did. Although quite frankly, it was entirely mutual; they created each other. A mass of freaks fighting imaginary monsters.

Until one day, those monsters weren’t imaginary. And one day, you found yourself at Eddie Munson’s mercy. 

...It’s safe to say you’d known about the Upside Down for as long as the rest of your friends had, you’d been in on the insanity since the beginning. So, as you’d expect, it’s pretty hard to surprise you with anything. But when Eddie got accused of murder, and was dragged into the shit storm you call your life (again), he took it immensely well. Almost too well for someone whose livelihood was on the line. 

“You’re so fucking weird.” You’d said to him in disbelief and he’d smiled. 

“Pot, kettle.” He’d gestured to himself, and then to you with a grin. 

Those had been the first words you’d spoken to him since you’d been close friends a couple of years ago. It was also the first moment the ice started to melt between you and the first moment you'd allowed yourself to think about what you used to be.

The next moment followed shortly after. A trip through the Upside Down does that to you, creates bonds with the people you’d least expect. And as irritating as he was, that’s what you became: irrevocably bonded. Although, you’d still have your fair share of disagreements to come. 

The moment it all began to change is something you’ll never forget. It started off innocent; you’d thrown an effortless joke in the air trying to brighten the atmosphere of the group, when all of a sudden, you felt a sharp pain in your right shoulder. 

You recall turning to Steve in shock the second after Eddie had saved you from a group of demobats, completely gobsmacked. He’d just fucking jumped in front of you, no questions asked, with no regard whatsoever for his own well being. 

Fuck. You remember thinking. You were not about to be indebted to Eddie Munson. Not devastatingly ethereal Eddie Munson. Not your childhood-best-friend-turned-virtual-stranger Eddie Munson. But by God did you owe him your life. 

Once over the initial panic, even Steve had cracked up over the look on your face, not used to seeing you unsure of what to do. So, he did what he thought was best, nudging you with a blunt shove towards the man in question. 

“You're welcome.” Eddie had mumbled with a pouting huff. “‘S’not like I could’ve just died doing that or anything.” In your state, you’d been too stunned to say anything, let alone thank him. But you could understand where he was coming from. 

And it was cute, the way he grumbled, feeling underappreciated for his act of bravery. You’d managed to put aside your past differences, and your ultimate shock – because who knew Eddie had that in him – to eventually give him a solid pat on the back. Like a good, new, old friend(?) would. 

It was a weird feeling to get used to, you’d thought. ‘Hey man, thanks a million for saving my life and all…it’s not like I totally thought you hated me two minutes ago???’ 

You’d managed something a little more mature than that, approaching him with an edge of nervousness. Since when had he ever made you feel nervous? 

“I am grateful you know.” You’d surprised yourself with the sincerity that seeped from your tone. “You’re pretty cool Munson…much cooler than anyone gives you credit for.”

You could’ve sworn you’d seen him blush. And it was his turn to sheepishly admit your kindness meant something to him. You used to be everything to him after all, even if you had only been dumb teens. 

He’d rubbed at the back of his neck with a soft upturn of his lips. “Thanks.”

That was the day your relationship with Eddie started to become something again, not just acknowledgements of preconceived notions that you’d had about each other previously. But something real. Although, it didn’t change the fact that he was both entirely aggravating and also made you want to die sometimes. 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

EXHIBIT A of Why Eddie Makes You Want to Die:

He just has to be right, all the time, even if it means crossing boundaries and using whatever leverage he has on you (but it’s all to protect you, so that makes it okay, right?)

“No.” Eddie cuts you off. “I won’t even consider that.”

“Eddie.” Steve sighs. He doesn’t like this plan either, but it’s the only one that makes sense. “She should be the one to go.”

“No.” He repeats. This time more adamant. He’s not about to let you walk into Creel House alone, especially not after what happened to Chrissy. 

“It’s the only way.” You try to reason, but he’s not having any of it. You roll your eyes at his bravado; who the hell does he think he is?

You feel like Eddie’s eyes are burning holes through your body, if they could widen any further you’re sure they’d pop right out of his skull. “I’m not gonna let you put yourself in danger like that…no way.”

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. “You’ve been back in my life all of a couple of days, and now you want to act like you have some kind of say?” 

Ouch. He recoils at the statement. Maybe you both had more to resolve than you’d thought.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks, tone edging on anger.

“I’m not the one who walked out of your life Eddie.” You say, and from beside you, you can see the grimace that has made its way onto Steve’s face. He’s the only other person who knows the extent of your history. Everyone else simply has the cliff notes.

“That’s not fair and you know it.” Eddie bites back.

“Not fair?” You want to scream at him so badly, tear him a fucking new one. “Christ! You don’t see me telling you what you can and cannot do, especially considering you seem to love putting yourself in danger.”

“I saved your life!” He exclaims. “Remember that? Or was that too idiotic for you?”

And he’s right, he has you there. It’s infuriating… Even when he’s wrong, he’s right. 

“I never asked you to do that.” It’s unappreciative, sure, but it’s the only thing you can think to say in your state of frustration. 

“Fine.” He relents. “You’re right.”

Your brows pull together in discomfort. “That’s not—Eddie—”

“No.” He stops you, eyes daring you to overstep. “You’re right. I didn’t save you because you wanted me to, or because you needed someone to protect you. I saved you because I wanted to. Because I fucking need you! Is that what you wanna hear?” His voice breaks the louder it gets, and you’re stunned. It feels like things escalated so quickly, and yet you know it’s been building for years. 

“Even after all this time…” he continues, the crack in his armor growing with each second, “because I’m selfish, and I couldn’t just watch you die. Not like her.”

Realization dawns on you. You’d forgotten all about it; how he’d watched Chrissy die. Survivor’s guilt is written all over his face, he’s begging for some kind of relief from it. And despite your differences, he still cares about you more than you can understand.

He’s right. Again. 

He may have leveraged saving your life to prove it, but that doesn’t reverse what he did to protect you. 

“I’m sorry.” He says. It comes out pained, nearly a whisper. “If I could go back…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, but you know. You nod at him, a representation of a silent acknowledgment and acceptance of his apology, and an agreement to work on whatever this is. Whatever it may become. 

And in that moment, it’s the heartbroken look in his gaze that has you feeling so shitty. Like death had whipped out a pitchfork and stabbed you in the back.

Eddie Munson has much more control over you than you’d once thought, even more so now that he’s seemingly back in your life for the long haul. Because if you’re sure of anything, it’s that he’s not going to let you go. Not after what you’ve just been through.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

EXHIBIT B of Why Eddie Munson Makes You Want to Die:

He makes stupid assumptions without thinking them through, especially when it comes to your friendship (but you do too, so that makes it okay right?)

If someone had told you one month ago that Eddie would walk back into your life, you would have laughed them out of Hawkins. 

The way your friendship had ended the first time had left things tense between you, and you weren’t sure if there was anything left to be salvaged. But after surviving what you had in the summer of ‘86 baby, as Eddie had called it, you’d promised to try and make it work.

So you did. As of now, you’ve spent the last number of weeks hanging out with your collective group of world saving friends, bonding over shared trauma and all the things that come with it. And that includes repairing your relationship Eddie. As hard as that has been.

Because while you know he’s genuine, and he wants to be on good terms as much as you do, it’s not easy to forgive and forget. 

But despite your fears, you’ve started spending time together one on one, no one else there to buffer the tension. Dustin had recommended it, a weekly movie night to get you more comfortable with each other, and to hopefully hash things out properly. In the interest of friendship, Henderson had quipped, because even he could see there were things between you that had been left unsaid. 

And while there are moments here and there where you want to throw yourself out your bedroom window because Eddie is being so fucking insufferable, or you want to build a wall of protection around yourself again because you’re afraid of what trusting him will do to you, there are also moments where you remember just how much you once loved him. 

This, tonight, is not one of those moments. 

“Can we talk?” Eddie clicks the pause button on the remote, leaving Marty McFly’s incredulous expression and his famous ‘“Wait a minute, Doc. Are you telling me you built a time machine…”’ frozen in a motionless frame.

It feels ominous, but you don’t verbally object. “Okay.” You nod, although it’s dark, so you’re not sure he can see you. You’re almost hoping he can’t.

He releases a sigh, something that sounds like he’s been holding onto it for a long time. “I wanna talk about how things ended between us.” He says as he reaches over to flick on the lamp in your living room. 

“We can do that.” Apprehension is floating in the cadence of your tone. Things were just starting to become normal again…it feels like a bit of a risk to dig up your past like this. Not that you have much of a choice in the matter. 

You’re more than aware that Eddie’s been eager to talk about it. It’s you who’s been avoiding this for weeks, despite knowing how inevitable and needed this conversation is. You just don’t want to ruin the trust you’ve been rebuilding. 

“Where do you want to start?” You pose, giving him control of the situation.

“I guess,” he fiddles with the rings on his fingers, “I want to start by apologizing again.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You protest. Since he’s been back, he’s done nothing but apologize a million times over. And the more he does, the more feelings it stirs up. 

“No, I do.” He states. “I’m sorry. I never should have done that to you. I never should have shut you out like that.”

His eyes hold so much sincerity, it almost makes you want to cry. “It’s uh–” you struggle to get the words out. You don’t want to relive it, nor do you want to admit the part you played in it. Because it’s much easier to make him the villain than to implicate yourself in this web of chaos you’ve spun yourself.

Though, it’s time for you to admit your responsibility. A friendship doesn’t end just because of one person. You gave up too, as difficult as that is to admit. “It’s not your fault.” You say sadly. “I know it seems like I put all the blame on you for what happened to us, but I’m just as responsible as you.”

Eddie smiles sadly in remembrance. He’s pretty sure he knows where you’re going with this. “If you’re going to apologize for not coming to my band’s first concert when you were sixteen, that’s so not something you need to apologize for. Honestly, that’s not even why I was mad.”

At the time he had been pretty pissed, so he can see why you’d be worried about it, though you needn’t be.

Your lips purse in thought. “I’ve regretted that decision for three years. To me, that was the beginning of our end. And I was the one who started it.”

“(Y/n), c’mon.” He shakes his head. “You can’t blame yourself for that. It had nothing to do with anything.” It really didn’t. The root of your problems was much bigger, and much darker. 

You puff out a strangled breath of air, tone dead serious.“But I deserve to.” You state. “I was a pretty horrible friend to you. You’d been talking about that show for weeks, and I wasn’t there to support you, especially after all the times you’d been there for me.” 

Especially after I saw what hides in the shadows, and I changed. The thought sits on the edge of your tongue, another one left unsaid. 

A softness rests on his face as he reaches over to place a comforting hand on your arm. He picks up on your implication. “If I knew what you were going through, I could have been there for you more. Instead, I abandoned you, all because of some stupid misunderstanding.”

The look of confusion that crosses your face is unmistakable. “I’m not sure I follow.” You genuinely thought that concert had been the catalyst.  

He tilts his head with a grimace. “Steve didn’t tell you?”

Eyebrows raised in curiosity, you tread carefully. “Harrington’s told me nothing. I couldn’t be any more clueless.” 

“Oh.” Eddie sighs. “I thought for sure you knew about it.”

You shake your head, jaw clenched. “No.” You pull back your hand from his touch, turning to sit cross-legged on your couch. “But I'm getting the feeling I'm missing something pretty big..." You meet his gaze sharply. "Is Steve the reason you stopped being my friend?”

Eddie’s eyes widen. You sound so serious it almost scares him. “No.” He’s quick to say. “Not exactly.”

“So he is involved?”

“Sort of.” He utters trying to backtrack. “It’s stupid now that I think about it.”

Your gaze narrows. “Eddie. If it was enough to end our friendship, it wasn’t stupid.”

The air in the room feels like it’s thickening with every breath you take. What could Steve have possibly done to influence him? 

“You can tell me Ed.” Your voice is firm but comforting. “I promise I won’t get mad.”

He swallows the lump in his throat, a little apprehensive, but abides by your request. “It was on a Tuesday in December — I remember because of how cold it was, and because of everything that was happening with Will, after he’d seemingly come back from the dead  — and I heard you and Harrington talking.”

You nod, following along. “I remember that day too.” Your voice is laced with sadness. That was the day your friendship started to crumble. 

“I hated him back then. So much so, I almost wanted to kill the guy.” He asserts. “And then I saw you with him, how comfortable you were with each other, and I couldn’t believe you could even be around him like that after everything he’d put us through.” 

“Oh, Eddie.” You say. Steve had never done much directly to hurt you, but he’d also never stopped his friends from inflicting their cruelty. He was a bystander to the pain they caused, with the power to end it all. And that made Eddie despise him.

He smiles sadly. “I remember Steve telling you that you could never say anything about it to me.” He places the ‘it’ in air quotes. “I didn’t have the context I do now, but he was so serious about it. I figured you were dating or something and he didn’t want me to find out about it, because he knew–”

He knew how I felt about you. He wants to say, but doesn’t. 

“And the way he hugged you. I felt sick.” Eddie continues. “I couldn’t understand it. And then after that day, you started pulling away from me…I know now it was because you were trying to protect me from everything, but back then,” he pauses for a moment. “I thought it was my fault.”

“Oh, God.” You feel like you’re going to cry. Hearing his side of the story is like putting all the pieces of a thousand piece puzzle together for the first time. “It was never your fault Eddie. You have to know that.”

He nods slowly in understanding. It’s crazy what hindsight can do. “I knew you were hiding something, I just didn’t know it was that big. And so, like an idiot, I let Jeff convince me you were just like everyone else…” He stops for a moment to collect his breath. A tear escapes; you watch as it rolls down his cheek. “And then I cut you off.”

“Hey.” You reach for him, pulling him gently into a hug. You snake your arms around his back, letting his head rest on your shoulder as you hear him begin to cry. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” You soothe. “We’re okay.”

This isn’t the first time you’ve seen Eddie cry, but it certainly hurts the most. Despite everything you’d put each other through, you’d never want him to feel this way. 

“I’ve got you.” You murmur softly. “Always and forever, yeah?” 

Your utterance of the promise you had made to each other as little kids stirs something in his chest. You’d promised to always be friends. 

He lets out a half chuckle, half sob as he pulls himself back to meet your gaze. Your eyes search his; they’re filled with so much worry and so much love, Eddie feels whole. 

“Always and forever.” He whispers. 

And maybe this can be the start of a new beginning. A new kind of trust that is undeniably raw, but stronger than it has ever been. 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

EXHIBIT C of Why Eddie Munson Makes You Want to Die: 

He makes your heart stop at the strangest of moments (but you want him to, so that makes it okay right?)

“You’ve gotta be kidding me Harrington.” The sound of Eddie’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts, and has you abandoning your assigned task of reshelving all of Family Video’s recently returned movies.

It’s been a couple months since you’d finally talked about everything, and honestly, things have been much better since. You’d gotten a job working with Robin and Steve, and weekly movie nights with Eddie have been going strong. Sometimes you just talk, and it’s really nice. 

“Sorry man.” Steve’s tone is anything but sorry. He’s leaning against the front till, an exasperated Eddie waiting on the other side. “I couldn’t hold onto it for you. Keith has been on my ass about not withholding the merchandise from customers just because my friends wanna see ‘em.”

“What’s this about?” You step into the conversation out of curiosity.

Robin chuckles. “Eddie’s been trying to get a copy of Top Gun again.”

“For weeks! I’ve been asking for weeks!” Eddie groans. “But Harrington’s butter fingers keep letting it slip from my grasp.” 

You smile at the remark. Your friendship with Steve has managed to stay intact, despite your discovery of his involvement in ending your relationship with Eddie. The night of your big breakthrough, you’d later found out that Steve had told Eddie to keep his distance from you, ‘if you know what’s good for you Munson’, Steve had threatened him…which when you’d found out, it had you seeing red. Eddie had assured you that Steve was only looking out for you, but at the time, it had been quite difficult for him to understand. 

Unbeknownst to Steve though, you’ve both forgiven him. ‘He doesn’t even need to know.’ You’d agreed. It was better to keep him in the dark than to create problems where they didn’t need to exist. 

“Hey, I’m just following orders.” Steve feigns innocence, arms raised in defense.

“Since when have you ever followed orders?” Robin questions, surprised. 

Fingers tapping the counter in amusement, you smirk. “Since he scored a date with some hot blonde who works at the arcade –who’s totally smokin’ by the way, nice job –” you send Steve a smug nod, “and he needs the money to take her out.”

“Ergo,” Steve muses, “I can’t afford to get fired.” 

“Pathetic.” Eddie tuts. “I can’t believe you’re doing this all for some girl.” He winks at you in amusement and you stifle a laugh. 

Steve’s honey orbs catch yours for a moment before he speaks, “Like (Y/n) said, this girl happens to be totally smokin’—way outta my league—and I’m not about to get myself fired and lose my only source of income just so you can hoard Top Gun from the rest of Hawkins.”

“Hoard?” Eddie’s voice is on the verge of being shrill. “I haven’t even seen the movie once!”

“Oh, well in that case…” Steve trails sarcastically. At Eddie’s dejected gaze he relents, “I am sorry though, truly.” He’s not even a little sorry.

“No no, I get it. I just thought our friendship meant more to you.” Eddie mocks pure disappointment. “I guess I was wrong.”

He almost pulled the ‘after everything we’ve been through’ card, but decided against it. Eddie’s saving that for when he really needs it. 

You snicker at the interaction, adding fuel to the fire, “Whatever happened to the sanctity of bros before hoes Harrington?” 

“Ah, my dear (Y/n). Clearly Steve here has lost any semblance of loyalty to the bro code.” Robin chimes in. “He’s got babes on the brain.” She wiggles her fingers mockingly. 

“How tragic.” Is your response. 

Steve scoffs at the remark, unimpressed. “Hey, it’s not like I’m the only one that works here.” He says. “If you were smarter,” he directs to Eddie, “you’d have asked either of them to put their neck out on the line to hold onto it for you.”

“We are more reliable.” You agree.

Robin grins. “And I don’t need this job that bad.” She states teasingly. “Plus, I fucking hate Keith, so even if I did need this job, I’d risk it to piss him off…”

Eddie laments adamantly. “You jest, but this is a big deal!” 

And it almost makes you laugh how serious he is about it, because the rest of you couldn’t give a damn about the ability to get your hands on Top Gun. Sure, it’s a good movie, and sure, you’d be happy to watch it again, but you’re not that eager. If he’d wanted to watch it that badly, he probably should have just asked. 

It’s not like you work in the movie store or anything…quite honestly, you’d swiped a copy off of Keith a few weeks ago and had forgotten to bring it back. Eddie could have watched the movie twenty times over if he’d bothered to say anything to you. 

In amusement of that fact, this is the moment you decide to reveal the information that could have ended this conversation minutes ago. 

“Would this be a bad time to tell you that I have a copy of the movie at home?”

“You–what?” Eddie exclaims, eyes wide in your direction. He places a hand on your arm without any thought, turning you towards him abruptly. “Jesus Christ woman, you could’ve led with that!” 

His eyes meet yours and all time seems to stop. As your breath catches in your throat, you feel like you’re going to die (maybe that’s a little dramatic, but it feels true in the moment). You’d wanted to quip back with something witty, but you can’t find the words, losing yourself in the pool of his amber orbs. There’s a fluttering in your stomach that won’t go away, daring to grow.

And you sigh. Since when had Eddie been so pretty? Since when had he ever made you feel like this? Fuck, you beg with your conscious, please say something, anything…You can’t be falling for him, this cannot be happening. 

Robin giggles at the interaction (and she never giggles). This has been the most fun she’s had in a while, watching your usually calm demeanor fall apart. “Where’s the fun in that?” She poses in your defense, finally breaking the silence. 

Steve snickers with her, standing with his hands on his hips, unfazed by your sudden muteness. He’d predicted you’d fall victim to Eddie’s charm sooner or later. He’s just happy he’s getting to watch it happen. 

“Y’alright?” Eddie asks, grin so wide and so cheeky that you’d swear he could read your mind. He knows. He fucking knows. “You kinda zoned out there for a second.”

You blink in surprise, trying to bring yourself back into focus. “Yeah.” But you don’t sound convinced, and neither are your friends. “Yeah I’m fine. ‘Was just a little surprised by the outburst.”

“Oh.” He rubs the side of your arm in apology.

“Yeah.” You mumble. The tension in the room has seemingly skyrocketed. You’re not sure if he feels it, but you definitely do. Even Steve and Robin, who are watching silently from the counter, feel it building. It’s awkward, and overtly palpable. But it’s also really sweet. 

“So,” Eddie asks, pulling his hand back from rubbing your arm. He reaches it back to rub at his own neck in nervousness. “Top Gun on Friday?” 

You nod, a breathy “yeah” escapes your lips. It seems to be the only word you can manage.

Something’s obviously just happened between you, (at least for you), and it’s something you’d rather not admit. In this moment, you’d like nothing more than to curl into a ball and simply pass away from embarrassment. 

All because of Eddie Munson. 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

EXHIBIT D of Why Eddie Munson Makes You Want to Die:

He has the ability to break your heart (but you’re dumb enough to let him, so that makes it okay right?)

Wednesday rolls around, then Thursday, and now you’ve reached Friday. You haven’t spoken to Eddie since your shift on Tuesday, your plans to watch Top Gun are supposedly still a go. But you’re honestly not sure. 

You haven't gone this long without talking to him since you’d stopped talking altogether three years ago. And that makes you a little nervous. 

“(Y/n).” Dustin groans, pulling you out of your thoughts. “You’ve got to stop worrying about this.”

You pace through your kitchen, opening the oven door after shutting off the beeping timer. Pulling out a tray of chocolate chip cookies, you slide them onto the counter. “I can’t.” You admit to the teen. 

He’s just watched you stress bake for the last two hours, and it’s safe to say you almost have enough cookies to feed the entire town. 

“Take a breath.” He says, grabbing one of the fresh cookies from the tray. “Shit.” He hisses as it burns his hand. 

You swat it from his grasp, earning a quiet splat onto the floor. “Here.” You hand him one of the cooler batches…still warm enough to be gooey, but not hot enough to kill his taste buds. 

“Thanks.” He smiles sheepishly. Mouth full he mutters, “He’s gonna be here.”

“How can you be so sure?” You ask, your jaw clenched in apprehension. “I haven’t talked to him since Tuesday and I feel like he’s been avoiding me.”

“I know Eddie better than most.” Dustin licks some of the remaining chocolate off his fingers. “You’re his best friend, who he obviously has feelings for. He’s probably just overthinking things like always.”

You totally gloss over the Eddie having feelings for you part – you’re not about to open that can of worms – and skip straight to seeking reassurance. “Yeah?”

“I’m positive.” Dustin asserts. 

You inhale slowly, exhaling a quick puff of air. “Yeah.” You respond, voice trailing slightly. “I’m sure you’re right.”

A silence floats between you as the curly haired boy grabs another cookie and wolfs it down. He smiles at you in thanks. You follow his lead, taking one for yourself and relishing in the comfort the taste brings you. It feels like home. 

“He used to talk about you all the time.” Dustin cuts in abruptly, cookie long gone. You swallow a bite of yours in surprise. 

“What do you mean?” You question, brows furrowed.

He elaborates, “Before he got dragged into everything and you weren’t even speaking, Eddie would talk to me and Mike, telling us about the importance of friendship, how you can’t let the people you care about go.” He pauses thinking back on the memory. “After a few minutes, I gathered he was talking about you. I mean, I knew you used to be friends, but I didn’t know just how much you cared about each other. It sounded like he was talking about the love of his life, someone who he’d thought he’d let get away and he was punishing himself for it.”

“C’mon Dustin.” You protest. “We’re friends. Friends care about each other.”

“Not like that.” He scoffs. “You’re always checking up on each other, and the fucking doting,” he states with a groan. “It’s almost sickening how you two can be in a room full of people and act like you’re the only ones there.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, suddenly very self conscious. “Am I really that obvious about it?” 

“Totally.” His grin is wide. He sounds excited talking about you and Eddie, like he’s somehow invested in the outcome. And you suppose he is. 

When you had first met Dustin, officially and not just in passing, he had been pretty adamant on setting you up with Steve. It makes you laugh to think about it now…you and Harrington? God no. But when Dustin saw you interact with Eddie, he witnessed real human chemistry for the first time. Your history was undeniable. And even though the tension had been so palpable he could hardly breathe, he knew you’d found your perfect match. Again. Eddie had just so happened to stumble back into your trauma-filled dumpster fire of a life when you needed him most. 

The memory fades as you catch each other’s gaze. And the next thing out of Dustin’s mouth catches you completely off guard. 

“Steve told me on Tuesday, he thought you were going to jump each other’s bones on the Family Video returns table.”

You almost choke on the cookie you had just been chewing. “He said what?!” The look on your face is incredulous. “Steve really shouldn’t be talking to you about things like that.”

“Relax.” He puffs out his chest. “I’m fifteen and I have a girlfriend. You can’t seriously think I’m that naive.”

“I guess.” You secede, still thinking of him as the little kid you and Steve fought demogorgons with at the abandoned junkyard. “But anything Steve told you is bullshit — nothing of that sort happened, it was only a moment.”

“A momentary eye fuck you mean.”

You shake your head in mock disappointment. “Jesus Dustin, no.”

“Fine, fine.” He relents, arms raised in defense. “But if you want my honest opinion,” he says more seriously now. “I've seen Eddie with you in his life, and I’ve seen him without — trust me, he’s much happier when you’re around.”

Your gaze softens at his authenticity. “You really think so?” 

He nods. “Know so.”

Dustin’s right. Maybe you're just letting your insecurities get the better of you. Or maybe you have a right to be nervous. He’d walked out of your life once, what’s to stop him from doing it again?

It really doesn’t take much for you to realize the power Eddie has over you. If he wanted to, he could take your heart (which already so dangerously belongs to him), and shatter it into an insurmountable number of pieces. Quite honestly, that might be the most terrifying thing about having feelings this big. You’d barely survived losing him the last time, and that was before you’d even considered admitting there might be something more between you.  

You’re not sure what you’d do now, or if you’d even come out of it alive. Physically you’d likely be fine, but mentally and emotionally? You’d be better off dead. 

You’re caught by surprise when Dustin is suddenly nudging you, hissing at you – something about answering something – and your attention snaps to him. 

“(Y/n).” He waves, pointing towards the phone.

It rings on the wall beside you, breaking the flow of your vulnerable thought pattern. You reach over to pick it up, Dustin taking this as a chance to pop another cookie in his mouth. 

 “(L/n) residence.” You answer.

“Hey.” Eddie’s voice travels through the receiver. 

“Hi.” You respond, trying not to sound too excited. You don’t want to scare him away. 

From the other side, he smiles; he’d missed talking to you. After Tuesday, he’d struggled with whatever moment had happened between you. His mind couldn’t process the thought that maybe you felt the same as him and he needed time to think it all through.

“Sorry for not calling earlier.” He says. “I just wanted to make sure we’re still on for tonight?”

A grin creeps its way onto your face. Dustin stops himself from laughing at the look that’s adorning your features. “Of course!” You fiddle with the phone cord anxiously. “My place at 7?”

“Sounds good.” He murmurs. 

“Great, okay.” You reply. “See you then.”

“See ya.” He says.

You hang up the phone with the biggest sigh of relief. “Fuck.” You breathe. 

“I told you he’d be here.” Dustin’s grin is smug. Shit eating doesn’t even begin to cover it.

You agree begrudgingly. “You did. I promise not to doubt you next time.”

He chuckles. “I’ll be sure to remind you of that next time I do something incredibly stupid.”

“Very funny.” You grimace slightly, feeling like your heart is beating out of your chest.

Dustin notices quickly and eyes you in amusement, no concern whatsoever for your current state of being. “You okay?” He asks out of pure enjoyment.

“Yeah.” You smile, breathing slowly to try and slow your heartbeat. “Just, why does it feel like this? Talking to Eddie, it’s never been like this.”

Dustin laughs. “Because you’re in love with him. And now you know it.” 

Love feels like too strong a word, and simultaneously not strong enough.

“Shit…” You groan, dragging it out like your life depends on it. Your head falls into your hands and you swear you can feel the vainglorious pride radiating from Dustin’s direction. He’s so satisfied with himself it almost makes you laugh. 

Fuck that little shit. You hate that he’s right. You hate even more how defenseless this makes you. 

You can’t believe you’ve given Eddie the key to your heart. There was a time a few years ago where you had been sure it would happen. That was, before everything fell apart. Though you suppose, despite all the obstacles along the way, it was only a matter of time. 

It still shocks you nonetheless.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

+ 1

The end credits roll across your television screen, Tom Cruise and Top Gun the only ones you’re really able to pay attention to. You’d seen this movie before…it wasn’t like you really needed to watch out for anything. If you’re being honest, you had so much more to focus on.

Like the beginning of your night for instance…

Eddie had arrived perfectly on time with a bag of microwavable popcorn, and a shy greeting. There hadn’t been much talking since, apart from a couple apologies when your hands would graze while reaching into the bowl for a popcorn kernel or two. Or when you had to pause it so Eddie could go use the restroom. It was totally and utterly bizarre how quiet it had been, unlike any of your previous movie nights where you’d regularly quip stupid lines, mocking the characters back at each other.

Awkward doesn’t even begin to explain it. And the tension was so thick — what’s that saying? — you could cut it with a knife…You'd need a pretty sharp damn knife.

“So,” you start by flicking on the lamp beside you, hoping to relieve some of the stiffness in the room, “what’d you think? Was it as good as you were expecting?”

Truth be told, Eddie hadn’t paid attention to a single second. And for all the weeks he’d begged Steve for a copy of the movie, the second he got the chance to watch it, all he could focus on was you. 

“I wouldn’t know.” He answers honestly. “I can’t remember.”

You tilt your head in confusion. “But we just watched it.”

“I didn’t.” His voice is so soft, yet so serious. “Couldn’t focus.” He furthers. 

“Then what were you focusing on?” You’d be lying if you said you weren’t hoping he was thinking of you.

He shrugs, but you can tell there’s more to it. He’s trying to be nonchalant so you think he’s calmer than he actually is. 

“Us.” He nearly whispers. “You, me — whatever line we’re teetering on crossing. I can’t get it out of my head.”

His words strike a chord with you. “Neither can I.” You admit. “I’m uh, I’m sorry for making things awkward on Tuesday, I just, something felt—”

“Different.” He finishes for you. That’s the word you’d been looking for. 

“Yeah.” Is your quiet response. “Scary different,” you elaborate, “but good different.”

He hums in agreement. “So it wasn’t just me then?” He asks hopefully. “Because I was certain you’d finally realized how I felt about you and just didn’t know how to let me down easy.”

A delicate laugh bubbles from your throat. “When you touched me, my mind went into overdrive and all I could think about was how much I wished this could be all the time.” You tell him your perspective, and a smile grows on his face. “And it was terrifying, because I hadn’t had thoughts or feelings like that since…” You trail, but he knows exactly what you mean.

“I don’t think I ever stopped having feelings for you.”

That causes your heart to clench. 

“Can I kiss you?” You ask, taking Eddie by surprise. It’s not too sudden by any means, but he had always thought he’d be the one to make the first move, if it ever happened. 

But, he supposes, he should’ve expected it from you. You’d always been ten steps ahead of him.

He blinks, still in disbelief. “Please.” He mumbles. “Tell me this is real.”

You smile, scooting forward to place a soft slow kiss on his lips. “It’s real.” You murmur against him. “I promise.”

His breath is airy and light against your skin as he captures your lips in another kiss, this time needier. He’s been waiting for a moment like this for years, and he’s not about to let you slip out of his grasp. Your arms wrap around his shoulders as you begin playing gently with his hair. At the action, he shifts you inevitably closer, lips coming down to rest in the crook of your neck.  

“God, you have no idea what you do to me.” Eddie hums, pulling away to get a good look at your face. 

You look perfect, your eyes filled with wonderment, like a rose in first bloom. “If it’s anything like what you do to me,” your lips part effortlessly as you lean in to whisper in his ear, “then I have a pretty good idea.”

A shiver runs down Eddie’s spine. This feels like a dream, this has to be a dream. To further convince himself it’s not, he runs a hand down your cheek, eyes searching yours for any sense of regret or mistrust. 

He can’t find any, and neither can you. 

“I love you.” He lets it drift from his mouth with ease. It’s not the first time he’s told you he loves you, but it’s the first time he’s said it like this. 

“I love you too Eddie.” Being sure to add it, you quip teasingly, “forever and always.” A reassurance from your childhood.

He laughs at the remark. A true laugh, filled with a melodic tone and pure contentment. “Forever and always.” He repeats. 

As he pulls you into his side, you let your head rest on his chest, feeling it rise and fall with each breath. The silence feels comfortable, nice even. And for the first time in a really long time, you feel happy.  

So yeah, sometimes he makes you want to die. But he also, equally shows you that as long as there’s a breath left in your body, that life is worth living.

Eddie Munson, as much as he makes you want to die, he makes you want to live. 

[heyidkyay]

Who can say no to bridezilla? |

Part Six

Can't believe that this is the last part!! Although I would like to say that I'd pretty much be down to try and write an epilogue of some sorts if it's wanted, so lemme know!

But thank you for all the love on this little series, I've honestly really loved writing it. I hope you enjoy this final bit! 💗

Summary: With no date to your sister's wedding, what are you to do? No worries though, she's already got it covered, well, sort of...

Masterlist

--

“What the fuck’s gone on?” My sister outright demanded with her hands placed firmly on her hips, eyes sharp and darting between both Matty and I. 

I figured she might’ve looked a little more intimidating if the hem of her dress hadn’t been tracked in mud, or the lipstick she was wearing wasn’t slightly smudged- that, plus the fact that she had a stray fallen leaf hiding away in her pretty up-do. 

My head spun towards Matty almost on impulse, wanting to prevent the inevitable, but unfortunately, I was too late. The twat already had his big gob open before I could even think to get a word out to stop him.

“What the fuck’s gone on with us? What the fuck’s gone on with you!” Matty countered with a delighted little laugh, appearing to take a large amount of joy out of this. “I see you and Hann have already gotten started on making the most of your honeymoon- looks like you’ve been dragged through a bush backwards, love.”

My sister’s eyes widened in shock at his bluntness, but she wasn’t the type to be derailed- nor embarrassed- and I pursed my lips to keep from laughing outright when she pranced over towards Matty with a sly, devious smile of her own.

“Hilarious, Healy. Should’ve made a career out of telling jokes- oh wait, I guess you already have.”

I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek whilst watching Matty’s eyes narrow, he appeared to be looking at her in a newfound light.

“Hm, bit rich coming from the wife of my guitarist.” He was quick to retort, mouth quirked up to one side as he waited for her reaction.

“Bit rich coming from a bloke who cries when he comes.” She shot straight back, not missing a beat. My eyebrows rose. 

“It was one- two times max! Besides, I told Hann that in confidence!” Matty tutted, virtually unashamed even with the playful frown he’d since adopted, which was amusing in itself really.

My sister shot him a cheeky wink, pleased with herself. “Don’t worry, young Matthew. There’s plenty more where that came from. I’ve heard many a tale about you.”

Matty simply laughed, wrapping his arm around my shoulders almost subconsciously. “Hm, well, snitches get stitches and all that crap. Let’s just hope for your sake Hann makes it onto that cruise of yours tomorrow, hey?”

“What’s this about my honeymoon?”

“Speak of the devil and he doth appear!” Matty beheld in a deep mocking voice, his free arm outstretched towards Adam, who’d just appeared at my sister’s side to, seemingly, top her up with a drink. 

Internally I frowned, wanting my own little wine waiter. 

Y/s/n hummed sweetly in appreciation as she took the glass he held from him, tiptoeing to peck at his cheek. He smiled in turn. “Knew there was a reason as to why I married you.”

“I first thought it was just ‘cause you were up the duff.” I piped up jokingly, but the startled blank stares I got in return threw me a bit. 

I blinked slowly, eyes darting between the frozen couple who then quickly tried to save themselves, laughing my assumption off like nothing had even occurred.

And then came Matty’s imminent contribution, and he appeared just as taken aback. “Wait. What the actual fuck?”

I struggled in that next moment to find coherent words, mind whizzing, before they all just seemed to pour out of me at a nonsensical speed.

“I was just fucking about!” I yipped in defence, “You know- what with you two having been together for years, with zero mention of ever wanting to get married! You’re engagement came out of nowhere, for Christ’s sake, everyone was surprised!”

I was well aware of how high and pitchy my voice sounded, strained beyond belief as I attempted to argue the point of my previous joke- which in retrospect, now didn’t seem too funny. I swallowed thickly, gaze still flicking between the rest of the group. 

“Are you messing with me?” I asked as soon as the thought popped into my head, unable to make sense of the unexpected situation.

But neither one of them replied, watching one another closely as they silently communicated in that weird couple-ly language of theirs. 

I glanced towards Matty, but he looked just as bewildered as I felt, eyes as wide as saucers, attempting to analyse the newlyweds in a whole other light. 

“You’re fucking pregnant.” He breathed out with an airy sort of laugh full of disbelief, he shook his head. “Fuck me. You are, aren’t you?”

My jaw was hanging somewhere by my feet and I couldn’t quite get ahold of the many- many- emotions I felt. “Oh my god. Oh my god.” I whispered from behind my hand, trembling now.

My sister’s eyes met mine then and, oh wow. The sincerity there was scary. Everything she felt was displayed openly on her face, I could see it all, from her flushed cheeks right down to her teary smile. I swallowed again.

“Surprise?” She announced sheepishly, lifting her tense shoulders up in an odd sort of shrug before she chewed at her lower lip, as though she was terrified of witnessing the rest of my reaction.

But she had utterly no reason to be afraid, because before I could even think better of it, I was barrelling full force into her, arms flung over each of her shoulders so that I could all but sob into the crook of her neck. 

I was vaguely aware of Adam, and his oddly quick reflexes, who had taken the precaution to catch my sister at her waist so that we both didn’t end up toppling over onto the dance floor. A smart man, I noted. My sister had chosen well. 

But when I finally decided to pull away, still keeping her very much at arm’s length, hands grasped on either arm, I did my best not to cry again as I took all of her in. She was glowing. Like, actually glowing. And wow. How hadn’t I noticed it sooner?

“I’m gonna be an aunt.” I rasped out to her, bottom lip quivering threateningly whilst my sister merely laughed at me, wiping her snotty nose as she nodded in confirmation. My eyes drifted between her abdomen and her face, but I had no real words. So I just ended up repeating myself. “An aunt.” I stressed.

“Yeah,” Y/s/n whispered in a hushed giggle, and I was painfully aware of how beautiful she looked in that moment, all dressed up in her wedding gown, all grown up. My baby sister.

“You’re gonna be a mum!” I gasped, the thought only just occurring to me. My hand flew to my mouth again before I could stop myself, and I squealed as I pulled her into another tight hug. She was still tittering away as we rocked back and forth, but I could hear the obvious tears in her voice. Though I was certain they were happy ones. 

And that’s when it hit me, really hit me- I pulled away sharply, only to spin around and slap Adam’s arm.

The groom jumped at the sudden sting, jerking out of the embrace Matty (who was standing bleary-eyed too, I might add) had seemingly wrangled him into.

“Why are you hitting me!” Adam questioned in alarm, chuckling faintly whilst he rubbed at his bicep. Though he still appeared somewhat apprehensive, cowering backwards slightly as though he thought I’d repeat the action. 

Matty cackled joyously, evidently loving the change of pace. He hastily rounded Adam’s taller frame to swat at the man’s cradled hand, eager to get a better look at the injury. 

“Shit man, that was fucking loud!” He declared, practically praising me.

Adam widened his eyes at his unhelpful friend, shook his head, and then pointed his stare back at me. Still thoroughly confused. 

I tipped my own head towards my sister, an eyebrow quirked. “Well, I can’t smack her, can I? She’s pregnant.”

“And why would you want to hit me?” Y/s/n snorted, clearly amused by the events that were playing out. 

Me, on the other hand, I was simply surprised about the fact that we hadn’t conjured up more of a crowd, what with all of our dramatics.

I flicked my scrutinising gaze back towards her. “Because you didn’t tell me.” 

I hit Adam two more times then, aiming for a third before the man hastily jumped back behind my very delighted looking date. 

“Why- didn’t- you tell me!” 

My sister reached out to carefully grab both my hands, cradling them in her own whilst she giggled to herself, gifting her husband an apologetic smile as she steered me away.

“I was going to.” She tried to soothe, looking at me with that soft smile of hers, “But, it was just- a lot, you know? It’s why I wanted today to go so perfectly.”

My chest tightened at the conflicted expression that flickered across her face, and so I wrapped my arms around her again. Unable to do much else. Just wanting her near.

My little sister. A mum. 

“When were you gonna tell me?” I mumbled into her hair, and I felt her shoulders shake against mine when she chuckled. 

“When we got back off our honeymoon.”

I snapped my head backwards to gape at her. “Two weeks! You were gonna make me wait two more weeks?”

“The better question is,” Matty piped up suddenly and I glanced over at him, my forehead still furrowed, “Am I gonna be godfather?”

Y/s/n scoffed at the exact same time that Adam nodded, and I had to bite back my sudden glee as I stepped away from my sister slightly to rejoin Matty.

The couple begun to bicker back and forth then, and I saw my dates brown eyes start to bat between the pair of them, as though he was watching an intense match of tennis.

“You’re enjoying this way too much.” I pointed out to him under my breath.

Matty shot me a mirthful smirk, hands in his trouser pockets he leant in closer towards me. “Tenner says they name me the baby’s godfather.”

I wasted no time in nodding. If I knew anyone, it was my sister.

“I’ll take that. There isn’t a chance in hell Y/s/n will allow it.”

He rolled his eyes in good jest, that smirk of his still prominent, “Double the odds then.”

I shook my head at him whilst I tutted, pretending to ridicule. “Didn’t know you were such a betting man, Healy.”

Matty shrugged at me casually, “Only when I know I’m going to win.”

I exhaled on a mocking laugh.

“Sorry, what, can you repeat that?” I goaded, “Sounded like a load of bullshit, to me.”

“Yeah, yeah… Think what you like, darling. But in nine months time, when I’m twenty quid richer, you’ll be regretting those words.”

I scoffed at him, “Might buy myself a nice takeaway with my winnings. Celebrate the birth of my godchild.”

Matty hummed through a bubble of laughter, “Hm, nothing quite like welcoming a new life into the world by celebrating with a Chinese.”

I lifted a shoulder, pretending to mull it over. “Never know, could be in a curry kind of mood.”

Matty knocked into me lightly, shaking his head with a smile. And he was set to say something else when my sister and Adam startled us from our own little reverie.

“We’re not deciding this- with you half pissed- on our wedding night, Adam!”

“Oo, someone’s in trouble.” I murmured to Matty who snorted, but it must’ve been loud enough for my sister to have overheard, because she shot a venomous glare in my direction. One which clearly stated I wasn’t being much help.

“But-”

Adam’s argument was too cut short by my sister’s steely stare, and we gifted one another an exasperated sort of look.

“Now,” She sighed, wiping at the folds of her dress to compose herself before she set her sights on both Matty and I. “This-” She held up a hand and circled a finger, referencing to the four of us and the secret we now shared, “Stays between us. Got it? If I hear a word- no, a whisper!- of this before I even have the chance to tell mum, I will castrate you, Healy.”

Matty blundered, mouth gaping slightly. “Me! Why just me? Y/n’s involved too.”

“Oh sure,” I dragged out, unimpressed. “Throw me under the bus, why don’t you? Your date, might I add.”

I was met with an unconcerned stare from my sister and a grin from Matty, I reluctantly quietened down.

“I need a drink.” She exhaled, and I hastily turned to her in dismay.

“You’ve been drinking!” The realisation evident in my voice, “You can’t be drinking!”

Y/s/n rewarded me with quite the expression, one which made me question even myself, before Adam stepped in to offer me an answer.

“It’s mainly been fizzy water, but I had the vendors add a shitload of squash to the bar. She’s been obsessed with it as of recent.”

“Cravings.” My sister added with a shrug.

I dipped my head a few times, but Matty was the one to give a verbal reply, “Right, makes sense as to why Hann’s been following you around with glasses all evening. Thought he was just that whipped, to be fair.”

“Oh, he is.” My sister grinned, very proud to have it announced, whilst her husband simply rolled his eyes at the duo in good nature.

“Poor Ad.” I consoled with an amused pout, “Almost feel bad for hitting you now.”

“Almost? Ta, y/n.” Adam derided, smiling at me.

“Oh, don’t get her bloody started on fucking almost.” Matty huffed and I had to release the sudden bout of laughter that welled up inside me, letting him guide me into his side whilst I chuckled. 

The newlyweds shared a secret look.

But before I could question it, I caught sight of my mother headed towards us. And so with a startled expression, I gripped Matty’s hand, said my hasty goodbyes, and slipped out of view.

“What was all that about?” Matty prompted a little out of breath once I’d finally relaxed, now stood a fair few tables away.

I merely jutted my chin back over to where we just were, where my mum was now talking to my sister, who was trying her hardest not to roll her eyes. “I just don’t know whether I’ll be able to flat out avoid telling her about- you know what.” 

Matty simply laughed at me. “You’re cute. But I think we deserve a proper drink after all that.”

And that was that. I let myself be led astray, hand in his, thankful for the weaving throng of people who allowed me to steel my reaction to his previous words before we made it to the bar. Oh, how the tables had turned.

“We’ll have a couple shots, please mate.”

—

Tipsy Matty was like unlocking a whole new character. One I very much liked. He was full of humour, witty retorts, and best of all, he was rather affectionate. As in, he made it a total mission to stay as close to me as he possibly could, sharing small grazes and touches here and there, and flirting without any real care.

Me? I was just as bad, I supposed.

Thankfully, we’d managed to evade my mum for the rest of the evening, and were now grouped around the main table with Adam and the rest of his groomsmen. My sister was off somewhere galavanting with guests and her many bridesmaids, and I only hoped that my mum was with her. But my alcohol addled brain was beginning to care less and less about being spotted.

“Hann. Hann. Hann.” Matty begun to pester, dragging out the groom’s surname to garner his attention. But Adam was already halfway to hammered and you could see it in the way he lazily swung his head round to face us.

“Eh?”

Matty grinned at him, happy to finally have been noticed, then proceeded to point a finger at his mate. “You know, I never really got on with your bird the first time we met.”

I frowned at his change in topic and swivelled in my chair to better see him. But Matty just continued to nod away, taking another sip of the fruity cocktail Ross had ordered (and hated) before he carried on.

“Uh-huh, you had us meet on that night out years back. And listen, yeah…” He was directing this little speech towards everyone gathered around the table now, waving a hand back and forth carelessly enough to spill some of his drink. “She was in this- I don’t even know, man. Practically out dressed in nowt.”

“Oi,” I nudged him in warning, “That’s my little sister remember.”

But Matty just waved me off, not breaking his stare with Adam as he slung an arm over the back of my chair and all but pulled me into his lap. He was sort of swaying now and I just had to laugh to myself.

“And ‘cause I’d joined you lot later on, yeah?” He barrelled on, wanting to finish the story he’d started- and I could honestly understand why.

Over text, Matty had previously mentioned the reason as to why he hadn’t been asked to be best man, and I could tell that it had bothered him a tad, and so now, more than a little wine drunk, he’d decided to make the best of his current situation, what with everyone having rallied around us, and give his own toast.

“Well, I was semi fuckin’ sober, wasn’t I? Had a few shots before I’d jumped in the cab, but that was it. And she was this annoying sort of drunk.” He drawled flippantly, uncaring for Adam’s wrinkled nose or pursed lips. “All angry. Proper fired up, right? Just screaming and spouting this utter crap. Told everybody you were shagging about. Tryna start a fight about it outside the club.”

He was quick to wet his mouth then with the remnants of his cocktail, and I grabbed him another champagne flute to replace it with when a waiter passed.

“And me, Hann mate, I wasn’t having it.” Matty cut his hand through the air and murmured a quiet ‘Thank you, love’ to me before he sipped again. “So I told her to do one, then went and lit a fag. She didn’t seem to care too much though, still heard her shouting ‘er head off as I wandered away, but it wasn’t long before she came over and joined me. Realised then why you’d liked her so much. That, and she taught me to blow proper rings.”

A snort and a slow clap sounded from beside me and all of our heads darted towards George who was laughing away at Matty.

“Fuckin’ hell, mate, that was a story and a half.” The drummer drawled, “Went from ripping into his missus to telling us how you bonded over a shitty smoke trick.”

Matty merely shrugged, unfazed. “Better than the story of how we met, Georgie.”

George medley grinned back at him, eyes bright. 

That was definitely a story I wanted to hear. But I’d have to leave it for another time. 

“Matty, mate,” Adam then called out, only too loudly to be a whisper, “She proper hated you too.”

Matty made a face as he set his drink down onto the tabletop. “Me?”

Adam nodded at him, “You.”

“I know I’m an acquired taste, love. But, what the fuck did I do to her? She was the one being a massive cunt.”

I elbowed him in the ribs and he pouted up at me in return. “What?”

I raised a brow with a knowing look.

Adam though, he just lifted his shoulders, hardly paying attention. “Called you a prick on the cab ride home when I asked if she’d had a good night, then puked out the window.”

“Rude.” Matty wrinkled his nose in distaste and we all chuckled before everyone started yelling noisily at Ross, who’d somehow managed to spill his beer down his front.

—

All in all, it had been a pretty great day. Even with all the aggravation and pettiness. 

And as I stood, propped against the chapel wall, spliff in hand, I found myself smiling away at the thought of it.

“What’s got your face doing that?” A voice asked, and I glanced over to the man who’d played a big part in it all.

“What- smiling?”

Matty hummed at me, stealing the joint.

We’d managed to escape the last events of the evening in favour of having a smoke outside (many thanks given to George for the weed), and had decided to hide away from the few partygoers who, too, had wandered out into the nippy air.

“Just had a good night, is all.” I shrugged, tilting my head back to stare up at the night sky.

A few stars could be seen. And I realised then that the city truly did it no justice. Out here, so far away from the buildings and the cars and the people, it was so hushed. As though we’d been covered in a thick blanket which muted all the blinding noise and hassle.

Matty hummed again, this time he wore the beginnings of a sly smile. “It was nice. Best one I’ve had in a while, I reckon.”

“Really?” I asked, not quite believing that this outranked the many other nights a rockstar was sure to have had.

But when I looked away from the night sky to turn towards him, I just found him nodding. 

He held up the joint to me then, and instead of taking it, I took a step towards him to stand between his open legs and pressed my mouth to it, lips brushing against his fingers as I inhaled slowly.

His eyes met mine as I did so. They were slightly blown, even from under his heavy lids, but they seemed to darken in that very moment. His adam’s apple bobbed and I withheld a victorious little smile. 

“I’ve been thinking,” Matty started before I swiftly cut him off, unable to help myself.

“Not too hard I hope.”

But he just rolled his eyes at me, and continued on. “About how we won’t have any of this at our wedding.” 

His comment pretty much came from out of nowhere, and it took me by surprise. So much so, that I was just thankful for the simple fact that I didn’t cough up the lungful I’d taken in.

Still, I fought down the urge to outright grin, instead choosing to entertain his musings.

“What, the weed?”

Matty threw his head back lightly to glance up at the sky with a put upon sigh, before his eyes flickered downwards, gifting me a lopsided smile. I felt his hands come to settle on my hips and he tugged me in closer, mindful of the embering joint he still held. 

“No, plenty of weed. Just the chapel and shit. Like that massive fuck-off tent.”

I chuckled under my breath, winding my arms up around his neck. I found myself enjoying the newfound closeness.

Still, I reprimanded him lightly, “Behave, will you.”

Matty merely disregarded the comment, the back of his head pressed against the cold stone wall behind him. “I’m just saying what everyones thinking, sweetheart. Free bar is a shout though, reckon I’ll fork out enough for that.”

Dipping my head downwards to hide my grin, I replied, “Seeing as you’ve been its main occupant tonight, I’ll allow it.”

“Yeah, only ‘cause I’ve been supplying you all evening.” He retaliated, his fingertips ghosting along my back now.

I bit into my lower lip and shook my head. “Always so nasty to me.”

“You love it.” Matty immediately countered and I lifted my gaze up to meet his mirthful eyes.

“What else would you change then?” I found myself asking and I knew he understood what I’d meant when he mulled my question over.

“That tux.” Matty said decisively, “As great as Hann looks, I’d definitely go black on black, you know?”

“Sound pretty sure about it.” I laughed.

He nodded at me wilfully, “Have to be, been thinking about it all day.”

I snorted quietly, “All day? Your best mate’s just gotten married and that’s what you’ve chosen to focus on?”

“Yeah, like I said- been planning ours.” Matty told me, the joint we’d been sharing having long since died out and fallen to the concrete floor. One of his hands trailed up and down my spine now, whilst the other thumbed at the soft material of my dress. “None of this cold British weather crap either. We’ll head off somewhere sunny, get hitched on a sandy beach beside some cliffside, and have a big fuck-off party.”

I let my own fingertips graze the nape of his neck, my gaze lowered. “No DJ though, right?”

Matty chuckled and I felt its rumble vibrate through him. “Alright fine," He easily conceded, "But if there’s no DJ, then we’re definitely getting a magician.”

My forehead wrinkled in confusion as I leaned back in his embrace to question him. “A magician?”

He dipped his chin, confirming it for me. “Yeah, magicians are sick.”

I closed my eyes, unwilling to fight this battle. I had a strange feeling he’d be willing to die on that oddly specific hill.

“Alright,” I relented, because who would it hurt, having a sodding magician at our make-believe wedding? “But then I want George as my maid of honour.”

Matty frowned, reeling away from me at quite the speed, which only proved to accentuate his double chin. I giggled.

“You’ve only just met him.”

“That’s your only argument against it?” I acknowledged in thought before I shrugged a single shoulder, “Besides, I like him. We’ve bonded.”

“When?” Matty exaggerated, his brows pinched.

“Tonight.”

“Yeah… obviously. But when? We’ve been apart for like- two seconds.” Was his conclusion. I just rolled my eyes.

“Don’t get all jealous on me. It’s just something a person feels. And him and I, we’re just floating on the same sort of spiritual plane."

There was a tense silence that passed between us then whilst Matty looked at me in utter bewilderment.

“You’re fucking mad, you.”

“You love it.” I said, mirroring his earlier words.

His head shook whilst he gave a low laugh. “I sort of do. No fucking clue as to why though.”

I smiled, noting how much closer we’d grown. I peered up into his eyes and wondered what he must’ve made of me. If he’d meant it when he said he wanted to see me again after tonight. But before I could make sense of my muddled mind, or act on the impulse to just ask him, Matty surprised me.

His lips were on mine and I found myself kissing him back almost without thought, his fingertips pressed into the curve of my waist whilst I pushed myself up against him. He tasted of smoke and the whiskey chocolate truffles they'd been handing out not too long ago. And I savoured it all, letting myself get lost in it, in him.

It was only when a loud bang exploded in the sky above us did we part, breathing a little laboured as we looked up at the stars which were now clouded by an array of fizzing colours.

“Talk about a spark.” Matty quipped, and when I glanced back down at him, he was already staring straight back at me.

I pressed a thumb to the corner of his swollen mouth and my voice was quiet when I replied, “So cheesy.”

“You love it though.”

And I couldn’t not lean in again, even as I smiled and another round of fireworks erupted high above us.

“I’m not playing with you,” Matty whispered when we finally separated again, nose now brushing at my cheek whilst his forehead rested against mine, “I think that we should give this a proper go.”

I swallowed, eyes dancing back and forth between his own. 

“What, you and me?” I breathed.

“Me and you.”

And then he grinned, this massive sort of grin that squinted his eyes and carved out the rest of his face. In all honesty, I don’t think I ever wanted to look away.

“Alright. Guess we can give it a go.”

--

Epilogue>

Taglist: @real-actual-human-person @wurldisavampire @partoftheairforce @kurdtbean @indierockgirrl

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Wildfell Weekly - Chapter 16, “The Warnings of Experience”

We’re finally up to Helen’s section of the narration!

One of the first things that stands out, and is done very well, is how much younger Helen sounds at the beginning of her diary than the Helen Graham whom we have met through Gilbert’s chapters. She’s 18, and you can tell even from the start that she myst have gone through a lot to go from the person she is at 18 to the person she is while living in Wildfell Wall - her older self is wiser, sadder, more jaded about the world, slower to trust people.

A second thing, that I only noticed on one of my more recent readings, is how much subtext there is beneath Helen’s aunt’s advice.

Example 1:

And this is no subject for jesting, Helen—I am sorry to see you treat the matter in that light way. Believe me, matrimony is a serious thing.” And she spoke it so seriously, that one might have fancied she had known it to her cost

Example 2:

“I have heard your uncle speak of young Mr. Huntingdon. I’ve heard him say, ‘He’s a fine lad, that young Huntingdon, but a bit wildish, I fancy.’ So I’d have you beware.”

“What does ‘a bit wildish’ mean?” I inquired.

“It means destitute of principle, and prone to every vice that is common to youth.”

“But I’ve heard uncle say he was a sad wild fellow himself, when he was young.”

She sternly shook her head.

Example 3: Mr. Wilmot, an older man who wants to marry Helen and who Helen says his wicked and her aunt allows “is no saint,” is a friend of her uncle’s.

Based on all this, I suspect that the marriage between Helen’s aunt and uncle is not a happy one for her aunt, and that her aunt regrets marrying him and wants to save Helen from a similar mistake. However, the very fact of that presents obstacles to her attempts to advise Helen, like in the second example, when Helen deflects her aunt’s criticism of Mr. Huntingdon by comparing him to her uncle. It would have been considered completely unacceptable, in the time in which this story is set, for Helen’s aunt to openly criticize her uncle to her, so her aunt can’t talk about it outright, and had to stick to speaking of principles rather than concrete examples.

Her aunt is very worried - so worried that, despite her own statement that Helen needn’t be in any hurry to marry, she pushes Helen towards an older and tedious suitor whom Helen detests. This backfires: it is what lets Huntingdon get a foothold, because he seems so much more pleasant company in comparison. And her aunt makes her position even more frustrating by equating Mr. Boarham’s lack of active vice with the possession of virtue (“Upright, honourable, sensible, sober, respectable!”). And that characterization may not be right even in a limited sense. I would say that a man who can’t tell when a woman is openly uninterested in him and even actively dislikes him - even when she is being blunt about it! - is not sensible, and there’s also Helen’s description of him as “narrow-minded and bigoted in the extreme”.

On a separate note, I was very struck by the fact that Helen virtually quotes the modern-day memetic phrase (“You don’t have all the facts!” - “I love him”)

Her counsels may be good, as far as they go—in the main points at least;—but there are some things she has overlooked in her calculations. I wonder if she was ever in love.

Which, I think, is sufficient commentary on that phrase in itself.

What else to discuss? Well, here’s our first look at Mr. Huntingdon.

A gentleman stood by, who had been watching our conference for some time, evidently much amused at my companion’s remorseless pertinacity and my manifest annoyance, and laughing to himself at the asperity and uncompromising spirit of my replies. At length, however, he withdrew, and went to the lady of the house, apparently for the purpose of asking an introduction to me, for, shortly after, they both came up, and she introduced him as Mr. Huntingdon, the son of a late friend of my uncle’s. He asked me to dance. I gladly consented, of course; and he was my companion during the remainder of my stay, which was not long, for my aunt, as usual, insisted upon an early departure.

I was sorry to go, for I had found my new acquaintance a very lively and entertaining companion. There was a certain graceful ease and freedom about all he said and did, that gave a sense of repose and expansion to the mind, after so much constraint and formality as I had been doomed to suffer. There might be, it is true, a little too much careless boldness in his manner and address, but I was in so good a humour, and so grateful for my late deliverance from Mr. Boarham, that it did not anger me.

“He was not officious at all, aunt: he never attempted to help me, till he saw Mr. Boarham coming to do so; and then he stepped laughingly forward and said, ‘Come, I’ll preserve you from that infliction.’ ”

I suspect that Mr. Huntingdon has chosen the target of his affections deliberately - he knows he will be more appealing in contrast to a suitor that she is rebuffing, and as a result he expects that he will be able to get away with more.

[safety-pin-punk]

Hi!

I’m sort of still getting into punk and learning about everything. You’re blog has been really helpful with resources and everything. Plus your cool.

Okayyy, now my question. I’m a junior in high school and I want to go to college. Pursue further education and all of that stuff. Learn more about the world and critical thinking. But I don’t want to pay a ton of money to a bunch of old ivy dudes.

What’s the right direction to go in for this? Is college a good option if I want to learn? What schools are good places? Where do I learn more about this stuff?

Sorry if this is a lot. Thank you though!

Hey! Thank you for your kindness!!

First off, Im going to stress that you are a junior and you have PLENTY of time to think about this. So dont stress too much right now.

Secondly, I want to preface this with the simple fact of college isnt for everyone. There are SO many ways to survive and thrive in life without it. And thats okay, good even! That being said, this post is just gonna be me talking about college. Under the cut of course

OKAY! So, is college a good option if you want to learn? My answer is yes! I learned a lot at college, both inside and outside my classes. I learned a lot of life lessons, I met people from all over the country (and a few international students). And I learned how to challenge my own beliefs and try to see things from perspectives that I didnt even know could exist prior to college.

But Im sure you were referring to the educational aspect. And truth be told, this heavily depends on both your school and you. Some examples: My school had a phenomenal chemistry program. You couldnt walk out of that program without having learned things if you made it through. But my school also had a very poor fine arts program. And to be quite blunt, I often wondered why any art student chose to stay. But going even further, it depends a lot on the individual as well. I was admittedly not the best student. I wasnt that interested in lab or research compared to some of my classmates, nor did I apply myself as much. And the difference is clear to see when others could rattle off different solvents and what reactions would occur from memory and I would be sitting there dumbfounded.

Next question, what schools are good places? Again, that fully depends on what you want to go to school for. But I’ll tell you what I did and how I chose my school. When I was a junior in high school, I found a list of every 4 year university in my state (I knew I wanted to stay in state, but you can do this for wherever you want to go). I then went through and gave each school a ranking out of 5 (based on vibes, chemistry program, education program, cost, and surrounding area). Once I had it narrowed down to only a few schools, those were the ones I toured. And I chose where to send applications from there.

Though, I cant stress enough how beneficial community college can be. A lot of people get all their gen eds out of the way either before they enroll in a university or over summers. Doing this will save you money and time. Literally not a single person on a university campus would look down on you for this. If anything, they will praise you for being smart. I took a few classes over the summers between semesters just to get them out of the way (and also avoid certain professors).

Where to learn more? Google. Google schools near you. Google schools where you want to go. Google schools ranked nationally in xyz. Google affordable universities. Google universities that have good financial aid programs. Just google so many things. From there, spend time exploring university websites. Read about their community and their academic programs. See if they have virtual tours uploaded. Check out their student activity board social medias to see what it would be like to be there as a student. Sign up for tours. Do an overnight visit if you can!! Or even, just walk around the campus without a tour guide

Best of luck to you on your academic journey! Hope I was a little helpful here

[sokai-asuki]

Clay Moorington Relationship with Nightcord at 25:00 and their Virtual Singer

The following relationship chart is pre-season 4. I might will be doing the post-season one, but for now, I post the pre-season 3 & 4.

Nightcord at 25:00 with Clay:

Kanade —> Clay: "An understanding and kind person. He seems very patience and always give some of us have time to open up. He doesn't come visit much but if he did, the others and I always notice him laying around the block in the Sekai... He seems to have a hard time..."

Mafuyu —> Clay: "Clay is... A weird adult. He didn't press much on asking me, he didn't scold me unless if it's involved my health. He have a lot of patience dealing with my bluntness, and he can also be blunt. To me, he is the most blunt one between both of us."

Ena —> Clay: "He is very patience to all of us. And very blunt... But that bluntness of his does have an honest.. We don't think he have a Nightcord because he doesn't know about that app or do have knowledge of it. So I always bring my art with me everytime he visits the Sekai, just so I could show it to him. His response is what I want to hear from my dad..."

Mizuki —> Clay: "It may not seem like it, but Mr. Clay seems to understand how my environment work. To my surprise, he have said to me his an orphan and he doesn't even know if his family abandoned him or just to save him. But that didn't stop him with how much he got criticism by other adults that told him he can't be something he dream of. And now, he proves them wrong."

Clay with Nightcord at 25:00:

Clay —> Kanade: "A very talented composer... She out of everyone else would be willing to do anything to save someone else, even if it might cost her life. Very soft spoken person and her singing is very soothing... Now I get why Miku think her music can reach Mafuyu over."

Clay —> Mafuyu: "The real reason why the girls here, and also the reason why all of them found each other's feeling the same... I have no opinion about her other than how blunt she is. But to put it simply, whatever her situation was, it better be fixed quickly before it got even worse..."

Clay —> Ena: "A talented artist who think her art may not be able to reach her goal, her validation... She shows me the art that she used for the Nightcord at 25's music video, and also an art she draw just for practice. I am not an artist nor do I understand art,but those drawing and line art, it's beautiful. She's very talented, what's the reason behind her doubt of her talent?"

Clay —> Mizuki: "A designer, Mizuki did tell me their sister is a designer and currently in overseas... I think Lance and them might get along, especially with a talent to make a clothes. They kind enough wanting me to have a clothes design for me. They didn't have to do that, it's not like, I can wear it much."

N25 Virtual Singer with Clay:

Miku —> Clay: "A very kind man. He seems harmless and have no ulterior motive to cause harm... Clay seems so calm and understanding of the situation, and yet, I can spot a bit of a frown on his face everytime he came... I want to help, help him, help everyone... But I know, he will try to dodge the question instead..."

Rin —> Clay: "He seems very understanding and kind towards me and Len. Maybe because he thought we're a kids..? Though, I didn't bother much nor care about it... But I love how gentle and kind he is..."

MEIKO —> Clay: "I don't care or bother much by him. As long as he doesn't bother me with unnecessary questions. But sometimes, he did come forward and ask me, if I ever thought of everything to help Mafuyu and the others. I give an answer and I saw an unreadable expression... He is more reserved than I thought.."

Luka —> Clay: "He seems like an interesting fellow. If I have to give an honest opinion, he is kind and patience but I wonder, how can that patience last long? The last time I tease him about something, I can see how one of his eyes was twitching by the comments I made. Fufufu, another person to tease to doesn't seem too bad~"

Len —> Clay: "He is very kind towards me and Rin. Sometimes when I was having a hard time trying to spoke to him, since his the only one man the first I met, he was very patience and waiting for me to say something. He is kind and always help me try to get along well with the others, especially my twin, Rin."

KAITO —> Clay: "...He is lying. He is lying to them. He is lying to me. He is lying to himself. Everything is off, he is rarely visit, and the only time he did, it's to rest here... It makes me, so angry... At him, at them, at myself..."

Clay with N25 Virtual Singer:

Clay —> Miku: "She seems to really want to try helping Mafuyu find her true feeling. But she doesn't know if she should get involved with her problem. If it's alright to get involved? Or is it better to stay on the sidelines and wait for a turn to see everything herself, to see if she can do something to help Mafuyu. She's a kind person, just need a bit confidence in herself..."

Clay —> Rin: "As bold as she try to be, she's a kind person. From what I heard, she has help Ena before when I was busy. I am very grateful and proud of her. Even if she seems like she doesn't need anyone's praise and compliment, I can't help but give her one."

Clay —> MEIKO: "Forgive my honest opinion, but she's kind of apathetic... Showing no signs of wanting to get involved. And yet, she did try to help in her own way. She can be pretty tough person if someone ever try to strike a conversation with her, she either turn them down, or give a silent treatment..."

Clay —> Luka: "... I have no comments about her... She is a sly, cunning and a playful woman. But at the same time, she did help the girls at some point and did something for them... And yet, why am I the target of her teasing...?"

Clay —> Len: "A very kind and anxious kid. He seems to be careful of what to say and try not to make it awkward with everyone around. He always talk to me ever since he came, maybe because I'm the only man around? But I did try to encourage him to talk with everyone."

Clay —> KAITO: "He is very honest," he sees it, "He can be very blunt and rude at some time," what else did he caught? "But he did try to help, in his own way and thinking that..." He sees through it... "A truth is the right choice." How much lie should I put to make him not see it...?!

[dreamin-gacha]

Xkour

This is game supposedly created by Luni. This chapter mentions Luni is not what she seems. Everyone here is from Ren's world and they recognize the game title. Theyre in the games style of outfit.

Blaz (3 Star/Fire Unit)

-Very high energy and enthusiastic.

-He likes the game cause it allows him to have fun from his everyday life. Ren says that they relate and actually thought about buying the game but couldn't cause it was sold out.

-He thinks Ren is fun to be around.

-Ren finds his energy cute.

-21

-He’s majoring in game design

Rafal (3 Star/Wind Unit)

-Very easy going but also Incredibly helpful.

-Joined the game cause he wanted to bring his friends together.

-Actually knows Ren. he's a close family friend.

-Ren asks why they haven't been able to contact him in over 5 months. He says hes been busy with his friends.

-“Your mama’s like super worried about you dude. She said she wasn’t able to reach you in the last few months.”

-“Tell her not to worry and that I’m just hanging with friends is all.”

-23

-Physical Medicine Major

Cele (4 Star/Light Unit)

-Very high energy but also very blunt. autism.

-She mentions that she joined this game to be close to someone and because her brother was joining.

-She likes Ren cause theyre just so sweet and she calls them kid a lot.

-Ren finds her fun.

-24

-Culinary major

Cyto (4 Star/Water Unit)

-Hes very down to business. Atom has mentioned Ren a few times, so he notices them.

-“You’re that ballerina whose friends with Atom right?”

-“Yeah…not a ballerina anymore tho so don’t mention it…”

-He finally explains that during their 2nd year of college, his friend Luna went missing. He thinks this game might have something to do with it. He even bought the game at a bid to get it.

-This is the first time Ren is Incredibly serious.

-25

-"I remember hearing somethin about that. They let school out early for the entire rest of the year and told us all not to buy the game. Some parents even returned it."

-Marine Biology Major

Luna (5 Star/Dark Unit)

-She went corrupted when she learned her situation.

-its revealed she was kidnapped for a virtual reality experiment. She's been missing for a year and a half. She was first one to be put in the game, hence why all her friends saw her here.

-She thinks she's doomed and that no one here will save her.

-“Him…and that…that lad…no…she’s not a human…that monster put me here…”

-The end scene is everyone hugging. Cele asks if Luna knows where she is, she tells them.

-Ellie says something but Ren doesn’t here it. (“She has the power to get to the over world…”)

-22

-Psychology Major

[frostyreturns]

Frosty Ruins Leverage S5 E2 "The Blue Line Job"

Shows like this have a habit of dipping their toes into worlds they don't understand and come across as ignorant to people who are a part of it. Within the first minute I can already tell this hockey themed episode was written by someone who doesn't watch hockey. Think the gamergate episode of law and order svu if you want to get an idea how out of touch it is. There's also some very subtle propaganda to their description of the scenario the episode covers. To begin the episode they talk about a hockey player having concussion issues and in just a few sentences nail a few bullshit talking points that the media and the anti-violence in hockey crowd like to spread.

The first is that fighting is a major cause of concussions, it just isn't, while concussions are a serious risk in hockey…(and part of the reason players are paid millions of dollars to play the game professionally) they are almost never because of a fight, the amount of hockey players concussed in a fight is statistically zero. Concussions typically do not result from blunt impact and hockey fights tend to only last a few dozen seconds at most, and they are normally wearing a helmet, though they sometimes take them off because there is a greater risk of injuring your hand in a fight than your head. The risk of concussion in a hockey fight is significantly lower than in say boxing or UFC where they hit each other in the head repeatedly over a longer period of time and each combatant trains exclusively for fighting... and yet even they can have long careers of being pummeled before any serious concussion issues arise and sometimes they don't at all. In hockey you are far more likely to be concussed by being body checked or simply falling or crashing into the boards. This is because concussions are more likely when the brain is being shaken by a sudden and rapid change in momentum, which happens when you are travelling at high speed on skates and come to an abrupt halt. It's why helmets don't really help all that much when it comes to concussions and why with zero fighting at all it's a big concern in football.

The other lie is that players are forced to fight when they could otherwise be good talented hockey players. They say this with a line about how fast the player was and how he was good until they saw how good his punching was. If you know who typically filled the role of fighter/enforcer you would know these were very large men who typically were too large to be very quick, with some exceptions of course. And if an enforcer was really good at hockey it was utilized and celebrated because the best kind of hockey player was someone who was skilled and tough, the problem is those guys were rare and are virtually extinct now. This idea that skilled players are wasting their potential by being tough guys is a fantasy of the violence averse. The reality was that most of the guys whose job it was to fight and protect their teammates…they would not be playing hockey at all if not for fighting. Fighting was a way to make millions playing a game they love, it had risks and downsides of course but most all of them say they loved it and would do it all over again if they could, while there are complainers who are mostly looking for a payday now that their careers are over, the biggest advocates of fighting in hockey are the guys who do it and the guys who did it their whole career. The line at the end says it all and speaks to an issue larger than sports or tv. "I need you to save my dad from himself" The idea that people can't make informed decisions on their own behalf is repugnant to me. Here's a quote from current NHL tough guy Ryan Reaves which I think more accurately sums up the opinion of the people most effected "Make hockey violent again."

The other thing they get wrong is really serious concussion issues don't crop up until much later, you don't get punched and start forgetting that people died. The other problem I have is they key on this notion of a hockey where its mostly fighting with hockey in between, based on a joke "I went to a fight and a hockey game broke out." Which is just that..a joke… an exaggeration. Most games even at the peak of fighting in hockey typically have one or two fights or sometimes none at all…as I mentioned before these took up 2 minutes of time maximum…the hockey game takes 60 minutes. Yet they present this joke as a reality.

I will give them credit though they did accurately depict both sides of the debate for the most part, the problem is one side of the debate is largely fostered by retards who know nothing about hockey…mostly the media. The issue is hockey is not as popular as other league sports, so most journalists who cover it are people who would much rather be covering some other less violent sport but took whatever job they could get…and tend to have nothing else to say about hockey..and concussions and violence is a good click baity way for these know nothing sports newspigs to have something to say. It's why despite other sports being 100% fighting you don't hear as much controversy about them. There is zero hockey in boxing and yet fighting in boxing is okay, there is zero hockey in UFC and yet UFC is okay…so why is some fighting in hockey a big fucking deal? The players like it, the fans like it and the teams making money like it. Oh but sorry there's somebody we forgot to consult to see if it was ok…journalists and soccer fans.

My other issue is they are simply blanket believing this lie that the league is hiding medical information. The fact is up until fairly recently the medical information was that concussions were not as serious. The issue wasn't that it was hidden it's that the research wasn't there yet and we didn't know what we do now. They act like a simple MRI shows what they are looking for but even in the most severe cases of CTE you need to do an autopsy to be able to determine what they claim can be shown by an MRI.

And even that being said, now that we know that concussions are more serious…there are still hundreds and hundreds of elite players willing to take those risks, and tens of thousands maybe millions more who wish they were good enough to be able to take the risks and play professional hockey. These are people, they have agency they can make their own choices and they are compensated handsomly. It's nobodies business to step in and remove their ability to make those decisions.

The acting is also terrible across the board, the comically strawmanned owner who claims the fans don't come to see hockey but blood on the ice just hammers home the point that no hockey fans were involved in the making of this episode.

They also show at one point that the enforcer in question has some kind of secret contract where he doesn't make money unless he fights in every game…totally illegal totally unenforcable, no league major or minor would have a contract stipulation anything like that at all. That on its own is so ridiculous it's laughable…but they take it a step further and have the owner pay other teams players a bounty on his own player so he doesn't have to pay contract bonuses.

Things then get retarded when one of the main characters in an attempt to protect the aforementioned tough guy convinces the owner to sign a friend of his and play him in a game…absurd and impossible, there are rules about when players can be added to a roster it is illegal to add a player game 6 of the playoffs and that's assuming I buy the owner being convinced to play some random guy he's never met because a guy trespassing in his building challenged him to a bet a day ago. Deadline for adding players was months before the playoffs even start.

Then in the game the guys friend and last minute addition in an attempt to prevent a fight does something way more dangerous and way more likely to cause injury…he either slewfoots/knees a guy at full speed who doesn't see him coming. In hockey that is considered a very dirty play and is one of the reasons enforcers exist in the first place… to beat the shit out of guys who do stuff like that. Then the play just continues. In reality there would have been an immediate major penalty maybe even an ejection from the game and likely a series of fights as every guy on the ice would be after him. But because this is retarded fake hockey he just goes oops skates away and play continues…and the audience is supposed to see him as a hero. Then yet again this moron in his quest to put a stop to fighting executes yet another highly illegal dirty play, by charging/boarding a player on the other team who does not have the puck, this play is literally 3 penalties in one and again would likely warrant a five minute major or a double minor and would put his team shorthanded for 4-5 minutes…these two plays alone would get him benched by his coach for the rest of the game...assuming he wasn't given a game misconduct and ejected... because he's undisciplined and is costing his team penalties.

The rest of the episode that isn't hockey related is just generic cheesy heist cliches. Chick swipes id badges as she walks by, girl pulls bobby pin out of her hair to pick a lock, if you've seen a heist movie imagine that but worse. Cheesy ending…terrible episode of a show that is not for me.

[gardenofyv]

Blog Assignment #1

(づ ◕‿◕ )づ It’s Jordan Peele Week!!! ٩꒰ʘʚʘ๑꒱۶

Since finding out Jordan Peele’s works were going to be a huge component of this class, I was ecstatic. I grew up watching his skits on Key and Peele, loved the premiere of his horror films, and to be able to analyze it in such a unique space that is Professor Due’s “The Sunken Place” virtual classroom has easily made it my favorite course this quarter. 

This week we watched and discussed both Get Out (2017) and Us (2019). In the following short blog post, I’ll share my highlights from both films along with the themes and concepts addressed in class.

Now, I watched both movies when they first came out. But rewatching them a second time around (and being able to grasp much more complex concepts than when I was a teenager) I noticed right off the bat how vastly different both films are despite being released within two years of each other. 

Get Out stays playing in my head like a broken record and it was almost nostalgic watching it again. I got to relive my favorite creepy and suspenseful moments like the first time all over again (like that one scene where Chris goes upstairs and the whole party stops talking- LITERAL CHILLS). It’s also overall much more blunt in its message and holds your hand through its many symbols. This approach I think is vital for two main reasons:

It featured a black protagonist that is quite literally fighting the monster of racism in the form of this body-snatching cult. Such a concept had not been made available to both black and non-black audiences before making it almost revolutionary.

This was Peele’s debut horror film. In comparison to what was released in Us, I think it was necessary for Peele to come out with an initial film that walked audiences through the vision Peele is laying out in both the moment and also for a new generation of black filmmakers and screenwriters.

For this discussion, I want to focus on the character of Rose Armitage and her role as a destruction of the white savior trope and the complicity of white women in white supremacy. Starting off, we are far too over saturated with the white savior trope in Hollywood. I liked The Blind Side just as much as the next person but taking a deeper look, such a trope completely robs the agency and desires of the person being “saved” and instead highlights the “benevolent goodness” of the white savior. In a Q&A with Peele in Professor Due’s class, he talks about how there’s always white character that is the saving grace of all the other bad white villains; “not all white people”. But he creates Rose to literally be like “sometimes it is all white people”. *chef’s kiss*

Yet we see that Rose is not so two-dimensional to just be a good or bad white character. In Get Out specifically, the complicity of white women in white supremacy goes beyond complicity- they are the masterminds of this kidnapping ring. Yes, the grandfather perfected the method. Yes, Dean Armitage is the figurehead of the operation. But it’s Missy and Rose who are the procurers and most vital preparers. Without Rose’s seduction and Missy’s hypnosis, this operation would most definitely never have lasted as long with Jeremy’s brutal abduction techniques. Their importance to this whole thing points out one main idea for me that I remembered from a Gender Studies course I took two quarters ago: white women essentially draw their social status, power, and relevancy from the success of their men. Therefore, these women are further raised to carry out the agendas of white male supremacy for the benefit of their group and themselves. Such is seen in Rose’s warped meticulousness and creepy precision which I’m sure we can assume has been instilled in her from childhood. That seen with her eating cereal and milk separately while searching for her next victim? Creepy and disturbing for so many reasons. All that being said, I would also like to point out the consequent self control and compartmentalization these women must have after going through years of brainwashing and mental gymnastics. I know we’re talking about a fictional movie but how much of it is fiction, really? 

It honestly feels a little “anti-ally” of me to focus on a white character for my discussion of Get Out, I get it. Is it because I’m also a young woman who somewhat understands the pressure and molding to fit the agenda of my family rather than my own agency? Maybe a little. Could it be because I tend to hyperfocus on the tropes of white characters in modern media compared to their historical traumatic afflictions? Could be that too. Overall I just find her character to be really fascinating for reasons that I don’t think are delved into that much.

Moving on, we have the absolute mind trip of a thriller/ horror film that is Us. Unlike Get Out which I personally felt was more suspenseful and thriller-ish than anything else, Us quite literally had me watching some scenes between the gaps of my fingers (both times). Since Us doesn’t necessarily walk us through what’s going on and what the relevant symbols and references are, it requires (for me at least) a heightened attention to detail and memory of what was shown from the beginning to the end. For example, in the opening carnival scene, I noticed the camera panned to the attendees a lot- couples eating ice cream together or going on rides. I didn’t think much of it until Addy’s doppelganger (which spoiler alert: is the real Addy the entire time) talks about how they lived above versus below and they show the same carnival scene but everyone’s doppelgangers in a much morbid and kind of grotesque way. Also the Hands Across America intro and that not only being “doppelganger” Addy’s plan to make a statement with the Tethered… it was the shirt she was wearing the night she was switched; something I did not notice until rewatching it and then rewinding and watching it again. So crazy amount of detail and complexity going on here.

Two themes I want to write about that Professor Due lectures to us are the themes of intentional blackness and privilege. Whereas Get Out was revolutionary in the sense that it was reviving and reimagining the genre of black horror as a whole, Us found its form of revolutionary strength in centering an intentionally black family. By “intentional blackness” I mean that Peele explicitly stated he wanted to cast a black family consisting of a dark wife and husband whose children look like a real product of the parents’ marriage, absent of the “light skin” or mixed black actors of Hollywood. He goes on to present this family, not hyper fixating on a conflict of struggle and oppression, but as a regular family just going on vacation. I mean the fact that they had a family vacation house in and of itself was a subtle yet radical thing to see in media since the Fresh Prince of Bel Air. It wasn’t about pointing out that this family was black and that there are inherent obstacles in their existence in white heteronormative society- which was thoroughly commentated on in Get Out- they were simply a family doing as other middle class families do: going on a getaway vacation, going to the beach, hanging out with friends. Their blackness isn’t forcefully put as the focal point of view and conversation but there are elements still prevalent throughout the movie (ex. the aerial view of them walking on the beach). 

Alongside this is the theme of privilege. If the family vacation house wasn’t an indicator of some kind of generational wealth we don’t see in black families in other films, especially horror, then their relationship with the Tylers, another affluent white middle class family, should. I find it incredibly funny the way both Gabe and Josh have this polite interplay with each other but behind closed doors, Gabe can’t stop talking about the material gap or competition between them. This kind of material or wealth rivalry isn’t something I’ve seen before in this context but on a deeper level, it grapples with the question of privilege and and gentrification as not just something white people do to people of color, but something people of color can contribute to and inflict on themselves or others. I thought that was a really interesting point Professor Due brought up. Lastly, just as a fun side note in this already very long blog post, the profound preparedness and survival mindset or instinct present in the Wilsons was so incredibly satisfying. It just scratched an itch that is so irritating when watching horror because too often we are sitting and watching these movies, rolling our eyes at another white girl falling to the ground while running and watching others make horrible decision after horrible decision in survival settings. Sincerest gratitude to Jordan Peele for giving us a cast that moved when it was time to move.

If you got to the end of this blog post, congratulations! And thank you! I hope to anyone reading this, or maybe to future me, we can look back on the genius that is Jordan Peele and be able to compare again his evolutionary works.

[georgedpr]

Online shopping sites have revolutionized the retail market. It could be argued that sites like Amazon.com changed the way Americans and the world consume. Rather than traveling to the store and browsing consumers can browse a virtual warehouse and order from the comfort of their armchairs. However, lost amid the development of these sites is the value of browsing. These sites are perfect for those situations where the consumer understands what they are looking for or has a product in mind. Though currently, most shopping sites do a mediocre if the not terrible job of helping people find things they aren’t looking for.

A perfect example of this phenomenon is Amazon.com. While Amazon sells everything from action figures to appliances I mostly shop there for books. I tend to read mostly within the fantasy and science fiction genre which Amazon carries a decent selection. Now Amazon does do some interesting things to attempt to help users find similar material. They show which percentage of people who bought item X also bought items Y and Z. Or they allow users to tag different entries with keywords that reflect that user’s perceptions of the item.[1] However, these are all quantitative efforts that churn out results based on a secret sauce algorithm that lurks on a server buried somewhere deep below Amazon HQ. The site’s qualitative attempts to match users with new material or items are not particularly thought-provoking.

I recently found myself staring at the entry on Amazon for Hardwired.

A science/fiction novel from Walter Jon Williams about a cybernetically enhanced warrior battling it out in a future earth. I found the book through a roundabout method that has only been available since the internet crept out of its servers in a DARPA mainframe to extend throughout the world.

I had been searching for books that were similar to Old Man’s War by John Scalzi. I stumbled onto the book about a year ago by way of a friend of a friend and quickly gobbled up the entire series and Mr. Scalzi’s other works. Finding books similar to Scalzi’s work in both quality and genre has been a difficult task (save for Heinlein’s Starship Troopers which I had already read). Thankfully, Mr. Scalzi provides a venue on his site for new authors to display their work he calls the “Big Idea” and I have found that an excellent place to find recommendations. There I ran across a recommendation for Forever War which in turn gave me the link to Hardwired.

Scrolling down the page I came across the subject headings for the title. For any non-librarian types essentially the subject headings are the categories (mystery, fiction, etc.) that the book falls into that give clues about the book’s content.

The folks at Amazon described the book with eight different subject headings that basically said the same thing or attributed certain formats (graphic novels) that don’t apply to the work. Clearly, anyone looking at the subject headings would not get the best idea about what the book was about other than science fiction.[2] I don’t blame the cataloger or whoever decided to ascribe these traits to the novel. Even the best craftsman can only do so much with substandard tools. There Since Amazon.com sells/catalogs so many items their system for categorization has to cover so many subjects the granularity for the system is blunted. Rather than simply science fiction why not create a further level in the taxonomy to include military science fiction, near-future science fiction, etc?

Rather than having a single large taxonomy that tries to cover everything at the expense of the granular concepts it would be better to have several smaller more specific taxonomies that can then be mapped together if need be. Right now keyword searches work cause the amount of information online is manageable. However, anyone who looks past the first two pages of results from any popular search engine will see that the results vary. Customized and specialized taxonomies will help users find the resources, but also the best resources for their needs.

1 If you are looking for a better example of tagging see LibraryThing. Though “better” is simply my opinion and in the interest of full disclosure I have met the LibraryThing Librarian, and the company is headquartered not far from where I grew up. Therefore, a bias on my part should be assumed.  ↩

2 Some might answer that the only people to look at subject headings/categorization are librarians. While I would tend to agree with that assessment I would also argue that if subject headings/categorization gave more information or were more relevant then maybe more non-librarian users might employ them.  ↩

[skaruresonic]

IDW!Shadow being mean or angry wasn't the problem. It was that he blamed Sonic for his suffering.

Shadow may be blunt on occasion, but he also largely does not want others to suffer: a sentiment he expressed in Battle when he said, "No one needs to go through the things that I have!" There is no game in which he would tell Sonic he "deserved" his suffering, regardless of how angry he may be. To use the Rivals 2 example: threatening to knock Sonic out because Sonic is in his way and Sonic's presence is keeping Eggman from divulging important information is an act of pragmatism, however harsh it may be. Is it a little much? Yes. But it's not like Shadow threatens it for no apparent reason. What's more, there is a difference between having a few rough edges and being an insensitive dick whose every word out of your mouth is an insult (hello, Chao racing arc).

Not to mention, despite his prickliness, Shadow holds a begrudging respect for Sonic. True, the MV arc was a high-stakes situation in part borne by Sonic's choices, or lack thereof, and Shadow had some legitimate reasons to be angry, but the narrative framed them in such a way that it came off as incredibly self-centered to the point of being OOC. Why is it that when innocents are falling all around him, all he cares about is looking like a coward?

I agree with you that Forces!Shadow isn't as bad as people say. In fact, he goes through something of a subtle character arc where he goes from snarking a bit on his allies to silently intervening in battle, smiling, and even deciding to stick around after the day is saved, something he rarely chooses to do in past games. Perhaps his time in virtual reality humbled him a little. However, despite his experiences, he holds no ill will towards Sonic. That's what makes this scene

so mind-boggling to me. ---

Sega decided he had no friends,

Shadow calls his friends his allies. He canonically called Rouge "ally" in Battle and it was treated like a quantum leap for his character in terms of opening up towards her because it was something he had never allowed himself to do before. He doesn't call his friends his "friends" that specific word because of trauma. And his pride. (And, as of Battle, his existential angst at being nothing more than a mindless weapon of war.) And his kuudere personality. That doesn't necessarily equate to him having no friends. He has friends, he just doesn't like to openly admit they're his friends, for a multitude of reasons. they told the boom crew that he couldn't make jokes in a comedy show, Because he is a serious character. :/ and also couldn't allude to but neither contradict his backstory. Sega's within their rights to make that kind of stipulation. And imo the fact that people take umbrage with it tells me we as a whole can't conceive of Shadow's role in any given story without falling back on his backstory in some way, a mindset that needs to change lest he be stuck in the past forever. Let the guy have stories that don't mention his past at all. '06 did it. Forces did it. It's fine. ---

shadow was better in tmosth because sega lifted shit we didn't know about and because of circumstance.

If we the fandom don't know the nitty-gritty of the Shadow mandates or what metrics Sega uses to decide whether any given portrayal gets the green light or not, why are we all speaking on the matter as though we do?

An alternative explanation is that Shadow was better in TMOSTH because he was written by a different writer who had Sega directly overseeing his work to ensure it's more IC. Not everything can be chalked up to mandates because A.) it often comes off as a little too convenient to blame them on every possible fluctuation in Shadow's portrayal, and B.) talk of Shadow-specific "mandates" (to be clear, I believe some of Sega's mandates (read: notes) do exist, just not Shadow-specific ones because there's no concrete evidence for them) only appeared after some guy on Reddit relayed a secondhand story of a con event he didn't even attend in-person. He speculated that the reason Shadow was written Like That in issue 19 was because Big Bad Sega wanted him to be a victim-blaming douche towards Sonic. Flynn's hands were tied, apparently, according to the Redditor. No direct sources were to be found in that post, either, other than "dude just trust me." And fandom ran with it because they're eager to scapegoat Sega for everything. Before that, nobody was saying "Shadow mandates" were the cause of Shadow's mischaracterization in the comic. Only after this particular rumor started did it catch on and spread like wildfire. In the meantime, I'm not inclined to believe what are at best secondhand sources. I'll believe Shadow-specific mandates exist when SoJ releases a statement. Which, given that they have more important things to do with their time, I seriously doubt will happen. I can't also but help find it awfully convenient that these mandates are never to blame when the portrayal is good. You never hear anyone say the Shadow mandates are the reason Sega had no notes for Calleb Goeller's portrayal in the TSR one-shot, mostly because that makes no sense. Besides, why are these mandates instituted and lifted on a whim between writers, between issues? I don't think Sega micromanages the development of their offshoot media to that degree.

im gonna be honest, half if not more of "shadow is mischaracterized here" moments he's not mischaracterized, y'all just didn't have good shadow content since 2006 and built up a false idea of him in your heads, so once he was back in media more y'all had the time to think your brains' fanfiction version of him was real. as someone who watched like all the media in the better part of half a year i literally saw no difference and then saw people yelling about it online.

[southsideunicorn]

LAST POLITICAL POST DURING TURKEY DAY As I said only now do we see why Joe Biden met Xi Xing Ping and kissed his virtual ring, but definitely his ass,, it was to move forward with the sellout of America , pok at this point let me be blunt , YOU DONT HAVE TO LIKE ME TO RESPWCT THE MESSAGE AND USE WHAT I HAVE BEEN GIVEN TO SHARE WITH YOU, my God people !! what's wrong with you all ?! no my postings are full of polish and glitz,, I am here because I must be here and open my mouth , I have warned America for well.iver five years with a prophetic count down that can not be denied , there are those whobwpuld tout what I have written and share it everywhere, if I would only let them claim it was psychic powers that made an almost seven year long prophetic word come to fruition within months of the stated time,, How long and how many times have you all seen me write and say with a count down, That if Americans didn't profess whose they are and whonthey are , that the America we once knew would cease to be,, that marked count down was roughly August 2022 to September 2022, and given all we have seen I'm thr last 90 days can there be Any doubt our once cherished America is down by the head?! I warned that black puppets like Maxine waters would cajole Conditioned blacks into abandoning the one thing that saves us "The Constitution of the United states", I said she would use racism as red meat to entice blacks into believing the "Social Credit" is the elixir / revenge against our republic, and so once more let me share the time line come to fruition I said that facial recognition systems would be put into play after democrats allowed blacks to run Amock as the Chinese looked on and learned , I warned that tik tok was being brought online to herd blacks 1st and others 2ndary, I wanted that NYC and soon LA will have foreign law enforcement working on our soil hunting Americans so here you go Muslim and Chinese police type stations operating in NYC https://americanmilitarynews.com/2022/11/fbi-investigating-outrageous-chinese-police-stations-in-us/ Joe Biden plays Americans to accept and submit to; Social Credit https://andmagazine.substack.com/p/biden-puts-t https://www.instagram.com/p/ClVxjpaL2Sb/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[crumbledcastle28]

Chapter 15: A Clan of Three

Warnings: really bad depression and mourning in the beginning, mentions of large amounts of death and violence, and injury.

Author’s Note: Almost to the end! I hope you enjoy! I also went a bit off canon for this one, so I hope that’s ok!

(Gif gotten from fuckyeahgrogu)

Your walk down in the sewers was….. indescribable.

You felt like the opposite of a ghost. You weren’t a soul roaming the sewers, you were just a body. Only the physical means of you survived this long, and the remaining piece of your soul was left behind with your Mandalorian.

So much so, that you didn’t even know where you were going. You presumed a way out was the end goal, but you didn’t even think about it. You stared at the floor for what felt like hours, sniffling and trying to find your breath.

You hadn’t felt like this before. Not even when Mando figured out who you were…. because he was there.

You didn’t care if he was bloodied, bruised, half dead, or had a physical ailment for the rest of his life that forced you and only you to carry him for the rest of your days….. you just wanted him here.

The kid seemed to be having the same feelings of numbness and shock that you did. His emotions were completely blocked from you and you could tell he didn’t want you to know what he was actually thinking. You couldn’t blame him, your walls reached their peak once more when you felt Mando squeeze your hand one final time.

How did you even get here? Weren’t you trained to always put the mission first? Why did all of your rational and strategic thoughts go out the window as soon as Mando ate with you the first time?

You wanted to go back in time and tell yourself to look at him for even a second longer. Ask him a stupid question one more time. Just one glimpse would tie you over enough to at least speak again.

“I uh… I made the IG promise to bring him,” Cara said at one point, but you didn’t even react.

You were grateful for her trying to lift you up when mere minutes ago she thought you were the reason everything went wrong, but it felt as if it wasn’t even worth it to hope that Mando was alive. Not when there was a chance he could be dead.

You thought about turning back one too many times, but you couldn’t betray Mando like that.

He asked for a warrior’s death… and he got one.

The child started acting funny and crying in your arms, and you tried to sooth him.

“It’s ok little guy,” you whispered into his ear, trying to keep your burning throat at bay. “We have to get out of here, ok?”

But it was no use. The kid wouldn’t stand still.

You almost let your frustration with him get the better of you, until you felt it.

The tiniest, faintest tingle crawling up your spine, causing your brain to echo danger throughout the rest of your body.

Something’s coming.

You spun around, eyes widening as you scanned your surroundings. Your eyes were wide and your heartbeat quickened.

You didn’t know if you had another fight in you.

Cara saw your quick movement and spun around as well, using her flashlight to illuminate the tunnel.

“What is it?” Karga asked, and you slowly but surely heard footsteps approaching.

You wiped your tear stained face and took your longspear from its holder on your back.

Mando wasn’t here. You had to take care of the child, and dying in a sewer underneath an Empire base wasn’t the way you wanted to go.

The form of IG-11 appeared through the faint shine of Cara’s light, and you expected to be disappointed.

You expected him to apologize for your loss and be on his way.

But, a limping form of shiny metal was right beside him, and you felt yourself enter your body once more.

The feeling was almost euphoric. If this was the only blessing the universe could give you in your whole life, you would be a damn happy woman.

Cara instantly ran to him to help him stay up, but your shock and joy only allowed your body to drop your longspear and stay frozen in place.

The child squealed slightly in your arms, and that was the noise that made it real.

This was real. He was here.

Not even a second after Cara helped prop him up did you run to his side, slightly slowing down once you got to him, and collide with his chest.

You felt the tears of pure joy start exiting your eyes, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the small puff of air Mando released when your chests collided.

“Easy,” he chucked out, and you laughed into his armored neck, only squeezing tighter. He rubbed your back with his free arm as you sobbed happily into his neck, and the child tapped Mando’s chest slightly with happy giggles.

You finally pulled away to place your hand on the side of his visor, framing the helmet, and looked into his eyes.

You were stuck in an Emperial sewer, beaten and bruised, with virtually no way out in sight….

…but this wasn’t the last time you would look into his eyes, and that was enough.

“Sorry to.. break up the reunion… but we are kinda stuck,” Karga finally stated, and you let out a breathy laugh with Mando following with one as well.

You kissed his cheek, and then lifted his arm over your shoulders while your free arm reached around his back to help Cara move him down the hallways.

It felt good to finally help Mando up, after the many times he had helped you. Even in the horrible circumstances you were in, you couldn’t keep the smile off your face.

“Do you know which way to go?” Cara asked Mando, referring to the coverts he had lived in before.

“No, I don’t know these tunnels,” Mando admitted, the child still managing to giggle in your arms.

“If we follow the smell of sulfur, it will lead us to the lava river,” Karga said.

“The Imps will catch us before we make the ship,” Mando said, and you couldn’t help but agree.

“We need the Mandalorians to escort us to safety.”

You could tell Mando was using his helmet to search for tracks, and you could feel his body becoming stronger. So much so, that he started standing and walking on his own.

You felt more relieved than you could even explain. Your “partner in crime” of sorts was back by your side, and it felt damn good.

The group was moving faster, until Mando stopped abruptly after turning down a corridor.

A huge pile of Mandalorian armor and helmets was laying on the floor in front of Mando, and he dropped to his knees.

You knew what this meant…. the Empire had taken an entire covert of Mandalorians down. This was Mando’s family, and the Empire had plucked them off their list as if they were nothing.

“We should go,” Cara said, trying to be gentle for Mando’s sake.

“You go. Leave the ship. I can’t leave it this way,” he said, and the familiar pain in his voice was returning.

You bowed your head slightly, trying to show respect to the warriors in the little time you had to stay there. You had fought Mandalorians before, and they were some of the fiercest people you had ever met. They deserved better than this.

“Did you know about this?” Mando asked Karga, and you could hear the venom returning to his voice.

“Is this the work of your bounty hunters?” Mando said, getting more into Karga’s face. The anger in Mando was strong and dangerous. If the group started fighting each other, there was no way any of you were making it out alive.

“It was not his fault,” a voice said from behind you, and a woman Mandalorian appeared from the shadows.

She was taller, but lean and built. She looked strong and tough, but you could feel her mourning as well.

“We knew what would could happen if we left this place. The Imperials arrived shortly thereafter,” she said, referring to when the covert revealed themselves to save Mando.

He had very briefly explained how he got the kid off of this planet before, but you didn’t realize an entire covert of Mandalorians revealed themselves. You were surprised the Empire didn’t wipe them out sooner.

“Did any survive?” he asked the woman.

“I hope so. Some may have escaped off world,” she responded.

Mando took a moment to think, before looking up at her and saying, “come with us.”

“No,” she said instantly. “I will not abandon this place until I have salvaged what remains.”

She began to gather up pieces of armor from the pile and holding them above large blue flames.

“Show me whose safety deemed such destruction,” she asked, and everyone turned to the child in your arms.

“This is the one,” Mando said, gesturing to the now sleeping child.

You tried to keep your face neutral, looking down at the child, but all the eyes on him scared you. This woman was in deep grief, you could feel it, and that made people react in very rash ways. If she felt that Mando was at fault for the pain she had….

“This is the one that you hunted, then saved?” she asked, and the confusion in her voice was slightly comical.

“Yes,” Mando responded. “The one that saved me as well.”

“It looks helpless,” she said.

“It is injured, but not helpless,” Mando responded. “We think he has the powers of a Jedi.”

“Ah, yes, Jedi,” the woman responded, and your heart tightened with fear. If she knew about Jedi, then she had to know what you once were.

“The songs of eons past tell of battles between Mandalore the Great and the Jedi.”

“Are they an enemy to us?” Mando asked cautiously, and you could feel the protective emotions he felt towards his creed and his people.

“No,” she said. “Its kind were enemies, but this individual is not.”

She looked at the child once more. “It is a foundling. By Creed, it is in your care.”

Mando tightened, as did you.

“You have no choice. You must reunite it with its own kind.”

“Where,” Mando asked.

“This you must determine.”

“You expect me to search the galaxy for the home of this creature and deliver it to enemy sorcerers?” he asked, and you couldn’t help the faint grin on your face at his bluntness.

“Until that time, or it comes of age, it is in your care,” the woman said.

“You are as it’s father,” she said, and your eyes widened.

Mando was a father?

If Mando was the kid’s father….. what does that make you?

“And you,” the woman says, looking at you straight on. Your head popped up to meet her gaze, trying to hide the timidity and wonder in your eyes.

“You have helped?” she asks, and you glance at Mando with your eyes for less than a second before meeting the woman’s gaze again.

“Yes,” he responded for you, registering that you were asking for his help. Normally, you didn’t like when people talked for you, but this was Mando’s department, and you didn’t want to speak incorrectly for him.

“She keeps the child safe, same as I do,” Mando says, looking at the woman with confidence.

You grin slightly, looking at the child once more.

“Well then… if you so choose… you are a clan of three,” the woman says, and your eyes snap back to Mando, who is already looking at you.

You had heard about the Mandalorian clans. They treated each other like family, and fought till the death for each other. It had been something you had never had before, but if you were going to do it with anyone, it would be with Mando.

This thought boosted your confidence, and you gave Mando a slight nod of your head, showing that you want this. You want him.

Mando nods back, and says, “Yes. If that is possible.”

You feel the blush creep up your face, and even if you were in a dark and shadowy room, everyone could see it.

You were in his clan. His family. You wanted to jump for joy and squeeze into Mando’s arms once more.

“You have earned your signet,” the woman said, affixing the mudhorn signet to Mando’s right arm.

“You are a clan of three.”

You felt the happy tears creep up again, but you blinked them away. Trying not to ruin the moment.

“Thank you,” Mando stated. “I will wear this with honor.”

You were convinced you had never been happier. The day started with Kuiil dying, fighting for your life, and Mando almost dying, but you made it through. You made it to right here.

You bowed slightly to the woman.

“Thank you,” you said. “I am honored.”

“The honor is mine,” she says to you.

You smiled up at her, enjoying the butterflies in your tummy and the happiness in your eyes.

You had everything you ever wanted… now, you just needed to get out.

Tag list:

@leahkenobi @pinkninja200 @farfromjustordinary @440mxs-wife @bookloverfilmoholic

[aurora-daily]

Aurora: “Fighting for the Earth is a fight for human rights”

Norwegian singer Aurora on saving the planet, her third album, and performing in anti-LGBTQ+ countries: “I want to play for everyone”.

"I don’t need a cure for me / I don’t need it” sings Norwegian songwriter Aurora in her new unapologetic anthem of self-acceptance. Her lead single, Cure For Me, is a radical jaunty pop affirmation that dismisses the need for outside approval, with Aurora herself being known for dancing to her own beat. An unquestioned innovator, the 25-year-old is best recognised for gracing listeners with fantastical narratives and otherworldly musical creations. Out on 21 January, Aurora’s upcoming third studio album, The Gods We Can Touch, is an outwardly expressive project that we’ve come to expect from the star. The young artiste ponders divine entities, a myriad of Greek mythologies, and worshipping humanity in her latest work: “It would make more sense if we worshipped and respected ourselves and nature as much as people respect their God,” she muses over Zoom.

Entangled in a musical metaphysical world, Aurora boldly treads through topics of the first creation, religion, and mortality. Unswayed, the singer-songwriter draws the listener in with her candid confessions: “I want to live my life, be all of its pages / And underline that I am not an angel”. Here her attitude is committedly her own — a trait that colours her progressivism. In self-effacing bluntness, the musician shares another personal truth on the call; “I’m going to die and you’re gonna die, and the planet will still be here. I don’t know why I care so much, I just do”. At her core, the 25-year-old cares deeply about the Earth. Its ruin is something she describes as “too sad” to let happen. Despite the seemingly bleak situation, the star is hopeful. “Our generation wants to save the soul of humankind. I refuse to let her die in our hands,” she promises. “Fighting for the Earth is a fight for human rights, for women and against racism.”

In her late teens, Aurora came into the spotlight after her 2015 watershed hit Runaway went mainstream. Since then, the Scandinavian artist has become accustomed to the glare of attention. “As someone with a voice, I understand there is a certain pressure to use it,” she admits, reflecting on her experience growing up with fame. “I feel bad for young artists as I know how hard it is to use your voice in a world where it’s so easy to say something wrong and get hanged for it.” Now, a few years senior, the singer has been respectfully adjusting how she uses her platform. “I am always trying to find the balance between talking about things I know and about things that are not really about me like systemic racism or the rights of trans people,” she explains on the call. “In these situations, I am a privileged person, and it’s more about giving and offering space, instead of replacing people’s voices that need to be heard.”

Now back in Norway, the star has been carving a space for herself online, especially on TikTok. Although admittedly weary of social media, labelling it “toxic”, Aurora has been reaching outward to create a “very safe” space where “people are only nice”. This unique universe of Aurora-based trends, song covers and scenic treks into the Norwegian landscape has become an online solace for many. Despite it being “a huge part of [my] job”, the artist realises how virtual living can be “so bad for our mental health” and steers away from it for the most part. When she is not ticking off label mandated posts or making friends online, the Conqueror singer takes time to reconnect with herself. “I get really affected by my surroundings so it’s been very special to write an album in Norway in peace and quiet,” she tells GAY TIMES. Recalling a two-hour boat trip to the ocean, Aurora found herself in southern Norway in the small province of Rosendal. In her eccentric style, the artist had decided to rent a small castle for a month where she wrote and recorded the album. “It has so much history and it felt really right making the album there,” she explains. “Making albums is my favourite thing to do in life. I’ve started my next album already. It’s been amazing to make an album from home. It’s a very playful album inspired by that urge of not being ashamed of wonderful things.”

Thinking back on her latest body of work, the singer pauses taking in her most recent progress; a whole new collection of tracks. “I have a few favourite moments,” she pauses. “I love when the music becomes an overwhelming wall of sound and emotion that hits you and you feel like dancing or screaming or running. The last track, A Little Place Called The Moon, is my favourite song from the album as it’s very spiritual”. Another poignant track bearing a lot of weight is Aurora’s single Cure For Me. The funky single came about as the artist began ruminating on the horrors of conversion therapy while on tour. “I was in Australia and about to go to Brazil, where I have a lot of gay fans. I sat down somewhere thinking about the world and love. I have gay fans all over the world, but especially in South America.” She acknowledges the country’s difficult political climate calling President Bolsonaro “the worst human in the world”. With her fans in mind, she continues: “I was thinking about conversion therapy and how many people have been through it. It’s still allowed in Norway, it’s not common, but it’s not forbidden. It’s heartbreaking, and I can’t imagine being told, again and again, every day, that who you are is so wrong and so terrible that you have to be cured. It’s just horrible.”

With art at her disposal, Aurora channelled her anguish into music. “I was inspired by the gay, trans and drag communities. No matter how much the world is against them, they still manage to put out so much joy and colour and light,” she expanded. “You see this again and again in so many individuals that choose love over hate, despite the world constantly fighting against them. Sometimes they’re in danger, but they still put out so much light and love.” Paying homage to them, the singer explains how their determination and strength became an inspiration for Cure For Me. “I see so much of it, especially in the LGBTQIA+ community, and it’s just beautiful. So, I wanted to make a song that is inspired by that kind of joy and self-celebration. The best way to fight hatred is to let them know that it has no power over you.”

As the conversation continues to turn, the subject of anti-LGBTQ+ countries crops up. Nodding, Aurora smiles confessing she has been thinking about this herself. As a bisexual artist, the singer understands the tension between music and politics. “I would never want to generalise an individual for something they can’t control like the country they were born in. Removing art from a place where art is needed will not benefit the people you’re actually trying to reach out to in those countries,” she says. It’s clear empathy and compassion rule her judgement (and her cause). “When I go to these countries, I speak so loudly about love and the right to love, which of course can be a bit dangerous sometimes. Artists have to do what they’re comfortable with. It’s not right to split us apart and create even more boundaries. When you go to places to see your fans, talk about light, hope and love openly with them, that creates a spark. All progress needs hope because apathy is the enemy of progress.”

As sporting events take hold in anti-LGBTQ+ countries and as stars cancel shows in locations where politics clash with their political interests, Aurora is taking her own route.  “We should speak to our fans and not make them suffer because of their government. It just feels so unfair, especially with gay people in places like China, as it’s really dangerous for them there. It feels wrong to leave them,” she tells GAY TIMES. “The best thing to do is to go to them and talk. If I started cancelling countries then I couldn’t play anywhere, so where do you draw the line? I want to play for everyone.” Aurora’s stance is not surprising. In her single, Cure For Me, she repeatedly calls against the need for an antidote or cure for the community. “If you’re a member of the LGBTQIA+ community and you’re lost, all alone, you have no one to talk to and no one to open up to, imagine what a lifeline it is to have an artist come to your country and to feel that connection with them,” she continues. “I have so many songs dedicated to love and the right to love. We – the LGBTQIA+ community – don’t even have to say it, but we can all have a strong moment together. They can look around the room and see many people that are like them.”

Impassioned with support for the community, the singer wraps up her ode to her most marginalised fans: she hopes they can find their joy and “playfulness” in such a difficult time. “It’s going to be hard for many people when the world opens up again, so I want people to be kind to themselves and understand that it’s okay to be extra anxious these days.” As we all enter a new year, the singer looks ahead at new beginnings and fresh starts. “I feel a mix of uncertainness, but also euphoria. It’s going to be absolutely fantastic because we get to experience things for the first time again,” she says. “I want [readers] to play more with life and to feel better about themselves and their accomplishments. I want people to have more fun in life because we’re only here for a little while and then we’re gone forever. I want people to feel freer in their skin, in their lives, in their hearts, their minds and open up to each other more.”