#seems like i struck gold with this one' ARE YOU KIDDING ME? i love them 💖💖

[2btheanswertothequestion]

She finds out about it a few weeks after her classes start. It happens by chance, and almost seems too good to be true.

But it's not.

The University of Illinois does actually have its own newspaper for gays and lesbians. It exists, made explicitly for them, by them.

And Robin needs it.

It requires some snooping, though it's basically nothing after everything she did at Starcourt. Soon enough, she is $8.50 ($7.50 for a yearly subscription and $0.5 each for the two previous issues) poorer in dollars and infinitely richer in happiness.

People Like Us: News, opinions, and features for the C-U gay and lesbian community it says on the front page. Issues 2 and 3 are both 8 pages long while the first issue is slightly shorter. They have everything. News about marches in Chicago and local gay-friendly businesses. Opinion pieces on places to meet up and homophobia. Roommate ads, reviews, and personal stories. News about AIDS. And, in the very back, a blurb proclaiming LESBIAN CONTRIBUTORS WANTED.

Maybe that'll be her one day. She's no Nancy, but she can write. For now, though, she's content with reading. It's almost overwhelming to hold the papers, knowing that it's made by people like her. That someone like her might be reading the same words at the same time. Less lonely, in a way.

No one else on campus knows about her. Ellen, her dorm mate, seems fine so far, but Robin won't take her chances just yet. She struck gold with Steve, Eddie, and the kids, but someday her luck will run out. So she hides the issues in a hard folder under her mattress whenever she isn't reading.

Then she gets the October issue in her hand and nearly dies of excitement. On the front page, the news section is announcing that "two highly acclaimed gay/lesbian films are set to appear on campus this month". The groundbreaking Desert Hearts and Parting Glances will be screened four times each, one week apart from each other, at the end of the month.

At her first opportunity, she calls and tells Steve about it.

"You have to come and see them with me!" she says. "I can't go alone!"

So he does, and he barely complains about the 3-hour drive.

On Sunday, October 19, he shows up at 7 in front of her building. They catch up while having a bite to eat before the film. It's mostly her talking, blabbing about classes and professors and new people and Illinois and the college experience while he chews his half of the pizza, staring at her with big eyes that scream I missed you, I missed you, I missed you!

She takes every chance she gets to knock their feet together under the table and clutches his arm on their way to the film. Just in case her own eyes don't scream it back loud enough.

By the time Desert Hearts starts, she's giddy. She knows only what the newspaper told her: that it's about a soon-to-be-divorced college professor meeting a lesbian country girl in Reno in the 50s, and that it includes a 'climactic lovemaking scene'. Both facts have her squirming with excitement, her seat squeaking beneath her.

The lights go out and the movie starts. It's slow-paced and atmospheric, using the Nevada scenery to its advantage. Parts of it are actually really slow, but she doesn't mind, especially not as it builds and builds toward Vivian ultimately accepting her attraction to Cay.

Steve is with her from beginning to end, scoffing at the antagonistic stepmother, squeezing her hand when the lovers are separated, and squeezing some more when they're reunited. When they reach the intimate scene, he gasps loudly. Then both of them succumb to a giggle fit and must stifle themselves lest they be thrown out. The newspaper was right – it is pretty hot stuff.

There's no dramatic declaration of love at the end, no the ending is as slow and quiet as the rest of it. Still, it hits hard. A sledgehammer to the chest, shattering her ribs and smearing her heart all over. Because these women look each other in the eyes and say 'I love you'. They say 'I want you'. They say 'she just reached in and put a string of lights around my heart', and they say it like it's normal. Which, Robin knows it is. But her world is small and their world is the silver screen and they say it like it's normal.

Steve turns to her when the credits roll and the lights come back on, saying it was good. But when she looks at him, his face falls. Arms wrapping around her, he pulls her into his lap and guides her face into the crook of his neck. Fingers cramping where they clutch his shirt, she buries herself deep and cries, cries, cries. She thinks she hears someone ask if she's okay, but Steve shoos them off, so it doesn't matter.

He walks her home in comfortable silence. As they stop outside her building he tucks her hair behind her ear and offers to stay with her. But she tells him no – he has work in the morning, so she'll have to make do without him.

The responsible thing to do after waving him off is go to bed, wake up early for class. Instead, she steers her step to the nearest payphone and punches in a California number. Minutes later she's got Vickie on the line, wondering if she's okay and if she's been crying. Robin reassures her, then recounts the evening. Soon Vickie's bell of a laughter envelops her; they discuss who's the Cay to whose Vivian until Robin runs out of coins.

Next week, Steve is back and they do it all over again, except this time they eat burgers. They even snatch the same seats they had the previous screening.

Parting Glances follows a gay couple for 24 hours of their daily life. Because they're established, their intimate scene happens much earlier. Steve's muttering about how unfair it is that it's less explicit than the lesbian scene has pride burn in her chest, even as she shushes him.

All in all, it's a really good film. It doesn't hit her as hard since it's about gay men and no lesbians, but it still hits. Again, because it's presented as something normal. They're people in love, and they have jobs and problems and dreams and friends. The hardest hit of them all is Nick, who has AIDS but not in a pitiful way. He's a rockstar with a sense of humor, still cool and charismatic. Sexy, even, thanks to the oozing confidence and the intensity of his gaze.

Steve is quietly contemplative on the way out. She slips her hand into his and lets him think. It's first when they're halfway home that she breaks the silence. Spinning so she's walking backward in front of him, him holding her waist to steer her away from lampposts and curbs, she asks:

"Did you like it?"

"I did. But it left me a little sad." He shrugs. "I just hope Nick survives and gets back together with Michael."

She chews the inside of her cheek. "I don't know if… I mean, AIDS is-"

"I know, Robbie, I'm keeping myself up to date. Or I try. It's just… It's very…" Steve sighs, shaking his head. "You know."

And she does know. The fear of being targeted and the frustration of being helpless. The fury of knowing diseases are supposed to be cured, until the ones affected are people who aren't supposed to exist in the first place.

Steve says, "I think he'll be okay. Nick."

"Yeah," she says, a little choked up.

"And he and Michael will be happy."

"Yes."

"And Cay will stay on the train, or Vivian will return to Nevada, and they'll be together. For real."

"They will. And even if they don't," she reaches up to cup his cheeks, caressing his stubbled jawline, "they'll have someone else. Someone just as good. Or better."

His gaze on her is heavy and bright, boring through, seeing inside. He nods.

"Or better," he says.

With that, he grabs and swings her around (in a pretty impressive move, not that she'll admit it to him) until she's latched onto his back. Then he carries her home.

It's maybe 50 degrees out, so not freezing but enough to leave you shivering if your jacket is old and getting threadbare, like Robin's. She's not cold, though, because Steve always runs hot. His back is firm and his grip on her thighs is secure; she burrows into him, absorbing his warmth and familiar scent. Lulled, not to sleep per se, but to rest by his even strides, she dreams of all the beautiful things she wants to have, and even more vividly of the things she wants to keep.

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

People Like Us was a real newspaper. You can find the issues that helped inspire this fic here.

(Oh, and you should really watch both those films if you haven't already.)

[sassy-cass-16]

man. the locked tomb is so funny and so full of memes and so beautiful and sometimes it just hits me that it's also so fucking sad.

gideon and harrow spent their entire childhoods hating each other for no reason. they never had to hate each other. harrow had gideon's blood on her hands when she opened the tomb and lost her entire family and it was all for no reason. just because gideon had no one to stick up for her. and when they were both orphans they couldn't even talk to each other about it. because they hated each other.

gideon fell so in love with harrow that she died for her and then harrow spent an entire year pretending she didn't exist just so she wouldn't lose her forever. gideon literally tells harrow's story for her and takes such reverent care of her body for the short time she's in it. gideon first saw her own father through harrow's eyes and called him Lord.

and john. and john is terrible. and he is so human that he becomes terrible. he breaks down weeping because no one else in the entire universe will ever understand his jokes again. he lost everything and he is the only one who even remembers the thing that was lost. he is so completely ordinary that you almost feel like you can't blame him for everything he's done but he is terrible. he let his friends die over and over and over again and he wants to wipe everything clean and start over and he is a man who has gone so completely insane from loneliness that he's circled back around to seeming horribly normal.

he greets his daughter with a dad joke and names her as best he can and gives her a title and a body with speed holes that help her go fast. and he's not malicious. and he's not good. you can't even really call him a villain--what the hell else was he supposed to do? in any of these circumstances? but he is trying his best and his best is simply not good enough. the true horror of god is that he is just human.

all the lyctors. all the lyctors are a tragedy in their own rights. augustine and mercymorn are just the two examples that we know the most about, and their own god/father/brother/lover/beloved/teacher killed them both.

(admittedly, mercymorn struck first. admittedly, john was defending himself and his entire empire. admittedly, it was ianthe's choice to save john in the river that killed augustine. less than an hour before that, augustine was apologizing for raising his voice and john told him to have a cigarette and do you see what i mean about it being hard to blame john for anything?)

and the whole concept of the fourth house in general. we don't talk about that enough. that is almost an entire planet's worth of child soldiers, from what little information we have. what does it say about ulysses and titania that they were the ones to found that house? isaac was thirteen. jeannemary was fourteen. they were expected to become full lyctors before isaac's voice had even dropped. there was no way they could make it off canaan house alive. these kids were doomed.

protesilaus ebdoma had a wife and kids. his wife's name is mia and she probably has no idea what actually happened to him. same with abigail's brother and nephew. corona and ianthe's parents must be losing their shit--they think their eldest daughter is dead and their younger one is now a fucking Saint with a gold skeleton arm.

that's not even getting into alecto. or nona. or camilla and palamedes and paul. this series is so fucking sad even without getting into the revelation that all the lyctors are slowly merging with their cavaliers.

[the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf]

Be Kind - James Wilson x peds!reader

description - When your job surrounds you with so much sadness and negativity, it is hard to maintain your own sunshine. But James will always be there to pick up the pieces of your broken crown.

warnings - angst, crying, blood, CPR, mentions of death

word count - 1.9k

requested - no

authors note - yeah I do really like writing angst. I think it's just because I want someone to comfort me how James comforts the reader.

Masterlist

REQUESTS OPEN - request here

-x-x-x-x-x-

Y/n trotted down the corridor on her way to House’s office. Her arms were ladened with various crafting elements. Paper, glitter, glue, and scissors but not proper scissors, only the really blunt ones. Cuddy had warned her if there was another ‘crafting incident’ she wouldn’t be allowed to play with the kids for at least a week. Cuddy knew where to hit her as y/n couldn’t think of anything worse. She still needed to pick up her special box of buttons and ribbon she’d left in James’ office last night. He’d stayed late to finish some paperwork, and she hadn’t wanted him to be alone, so she stayed with him. She had sat criss-cross on his sofa, busily constructing a special sign for a little boy’s room. James had found a tumour and the boy would need to stay in for radiation. James had told her all of this and she had immediately set out crafting wanting him to feel as comfortable in his hospital room as possible.

Y/n finally arrived at the glass office of the differential diagnostics team. Her arms were so full she knocked using her pale pink sneaker. Yes, she could have just entered but she didn’t want to be rude, and they did seem to be in the middle of a case so she didn’t want to interrupt.

“I’m going to let you in anyway, so why bother knocking, especially when you don’t have the corresponding body part available.” House pushed himself up from the table he was leaning on and hobbled over to open the door for the bubbly doctor.

“I didn’t want to assume.” Grinning at the kind gesture from the morose man, she made her way into the room, continuing to juggle her many objects as each began slipping more and more. Cameron rose from her position quickly to relieve her of the glue and scissors. She was rewarded with a soft thank you and a chuckle. Cameron placed the objects on the table and returned to her seat. Each of the three House minions looked on at the woman with curiosity.

“Nice crown.” House gestured up at her head with his cane. Upon it sat a sparkly, plastic, gold tiara which was adorned with pale pink fluff.

“Why thank you! Today I have a very important tea party with Princess Melissa in room 103.” She spoke to the room as if announcing a royal wedding. She became giddy when her gaze landed on the three doctors whom she had yet had a chance to bond with. “Ooo you guys should come too! She’d love more people there; I worry she gets bored with just me. What do you think?”

The three were affronted with such a weird question. Chase was the first to speak after clearing his throat.

“We do have a case on.”

Foreman was the next to give his opinion. “Yeah, a woman with 24 hours to live means we can’t exactly sit around playing pretend.”

Cameron, ever the ‘nice one’ finished with “But thank you for inviting us.”

“Oh, I see.” Her face fell slightly. “Another time then.”

House silently observed his team. Paying close attention to their minute reactions.

Collecting herself, y/n then turned to House. “Cuddy wanted me to tell you, and I quote, ‘the nurses aren’t morons and that in the clinic the nurses record their own time, regardless of what time you give them when you leave.’” House suddenly struck a face like a child who’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

The silence in the room became suffocating and y/n couldn’t take it anymore, fearing she’d said something wrong when she looked at the uncomfortable expressions of Chase, Foreman, and Cameron.

“I should go, I left something in James’ office.” She picked up her supplies and left through the door. Her feet shuffling slightly more, and her shoulders had a more noticeable slump. When the door closed Foreman exhaled the breath he had been trying to hold ever since the ball of pink clouds entered the room.

“How did that girl even get through medical school. She can’t be serious. We’re here working against the clock to save people and she’s down there in peds drawing pictures and sipping on air.”

“Who’s she helping doing that? What if one of her patients went into cardiac arrest, how long would it take the ditzy princess to act.” They all let out a giggle at Chase’s joke, trying to imagine the bubbly doctor doing CPR whilst wearing a tiara. Foreman high fived Chase.

“Interesting observations,” House finally spoke up, curious at the opinions of his team. “What about you?” He said directed towards Cameron.

Cameron opened her mouth but nothing came out. She finally relented. “She seems nice, but we’re here to do a job and when we don’t, people die. She looks after kids. You can’t mess about there.”

-x-x-x-x-x-

*your pov*

I stood just to the side of where the glass of the office began. I took in a breath, willing my tears away after listening to them. I know I shouldn’t have eavesdropped, but they should have waited at least a minute after I left to start talking about me. That’s how you successfully talk behind someone’s back. I couldn’t believe their words. We hadn’t known each other long but they had all seemed nice and I was excited to get to know them all. Maybe I came on too strong and that’s what put them off. I’ve been told to tone down my enthusiasm before, and I didn’t want them thinking I’m a joke. These thoughts swirled through my mind as I dragged my feet down the hall to James’ office.

I knocked on the door.

“Come in. Hi baby. How’re you?” James immediately noticed the change in my body as I slumped down into the chair opposite him. I fidgeted with my fingers so I could avoid looking into his eyes, afraid that one gaze would break the dam. But he knew me too well.

“What’s wrong?”

“Am I a good doctor?”

He was shocked by such a question and exhaled in a sort of chuckle. “Darling, why would you ask me that, you are the most talented doctor in this hospital.”

“House is in this hospital.” I said, smirking at his exaggeration.

“And he doesn’t hold a candle to your brilliance. Being a doctor isn’t solely about intelligence. There needs to be compassion, drive, empathy, persistence, optimism. In those respects, you are ten times the doctor he is.”

A tear dripped out of my eye, and I furiously rubbed it away whilst I smiled at what he said. “Thank you.”

Seeing this was more serious than he thought, he rounded the table and kneeled in front of the chair. James gathered me in his arms and stroked the exposed skin of my arm with his thumb. It instantly soothed my nerves.

“What’s brought this on, darling?” He spoke whilst kissing my hair. I dragged the forgotten tiara off of my head, suddenly embarrassed by its presence.

“You can’t deny I am quite a weird doctor. I play games, I wear crowns, I do arts and crafts with patients for crying out loud. Maybe if I didn’t spend so much time playing, I could be a better doctor and do more for my patients.” He was taken aback.

“How dare you say you could ‘do more’. No one in this hospital does more than you and every patient who passes through your care is lucky to have you!”

This did pull out a genuine smile from me.

“You can be anything in this world, and, everyday, you choose to be kind. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

I turned in his arms and pulled him into a bear hug. I squeezed him tight as I buried my head in his neck, practically inhaling the comforting smell. When we ended the hug, he picked up the forgotten tiara.

“By the way, Henry has already put his sign up on his door and wanted me to thank you and invite you to his room for biscuits that I snuck away from the lunch trolly.” He placed the tiara back on my head. I gazed down at him, my eyes still slightly teary, and thanked every star above us for bringing this man into my life.

His face took on a sterner appearance. “Darling, what brought this on?”

-x-x-x-x-x-

*Wilson’s pov*

I ripped open the door of House’s office. Anger bubbled through my veins and motivated my movements.

“Do not speak about her ever!” The three minions jumped at my sudden loud voice, having rarely seen my temper.

“We’re actually kind of-“ “Stay out of this!” The finger, pointed at the three, then warned House to stop speaking.

“I am going to say this only once. I do not know exactly what you said but I do know that she is upset and that is unacceptable. If you have a problem with the way she goes about her job, keep it to yourself, as her many accolades and track record show she is doing an excellent job without your help. Her patients trust her, their families trust her. And if to gain that trust she has to put on a tutu and go to a tea party once in a while then she’s going to do it because that is the kind of person she is.” By this point my voice was raised to the max before it became yelling. I stared each of them down, so they felt the full extent of my words.

“Believe it or not, that stuff you view as frivolous, she enjoys doing. The children who come into her care don’t have much and she brings a little bit of light back into their lives.” By this point my anger had clouded my mind and I’m pretty sure I was just on a tangent now. I couldn’t think of an end for my rant, my head was just filled of her, and thinking about how upset she had been physically hurt me.

After pacing for a few seconds and rubbing my hands over my face, I made my way towards the door. But I stopped short and turned back to the stunned faces of the three doctors.

“If there is one thing from house’s lessons that I am going to un-teach you it is this; never mistake kindness for weakness, or positivity for stupidity.”

I left the room with a veritable slam of the door.

-x-x-x-x-x-

A silence settled over the room after Wilson had left. No one wanted to speak as the power of the rant still hung heavy in the room.

“As punishment, you’re all on ER duty.” House broke the tension and was met with a resounding mix of complaints and shocks. “Enough! Get out!”

They were all shocked into submission and left the room. They had all heard House angry before, of course, but rarely in the defence of someone else.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Chase, Cameron, and Foreman entered the ER, ready for a shift of vomit and broken bones. The rattle of a bed being wheeled down the hallway quickly was heard by the three and they all jumped out of the way in time. The sight they were met with after the bed broke through the door of the ER stunned them all into silence.

A stretcher on a bed was pushed through the door by two paramedics. On top lay a girl, no more than 8 or 9, who was bleeding profusely on the bed. Y/n kneeled over the girl administering CPR, covered in blood up to her forearms whilst barking out orders to the doctors and nurses around her.

After the bed passed by, no one dared speak. None of them knew what to say in the face of that image. Unbeknownst to the three, House had crept up behind them after, proudly, witnessing the same scene.

“How’s that for a ‘ditzy princess’.”

-x-x-x-x-x-

[wilted3sunflowers]

subjects you to warden essence b tier talk

okay so like, i really love the b tiers of wardens essence the design for all the characters is strongly tied together, i enjoy our b tier cast is all in there as prisoners and matching i have a lot of say actually about each and the insects/arachnid theyre subjected to i love majority of all the cast and need to gush about it i have a lot of say actually about each and the insects/arachnid theyre subjected to i love majority of all the cast and need to gush about it

even altrusitic ganji is there, as worker bee

mirroring his true backstory, the description especially "They praise my patience while pulling out my stinger." bees only attack once feeling threatened, to defend the hive and queen that worker bees quote " They act as nurse bees taking care of the young bees and the queen, as housekeepers who work to clean and expand the hive and as foragers and scouts who bring back food and seek out new hive locations. As a worker ages, it takes on different roles inside and outside of the hive." taking care of the young, who seek out new locations, it just makes me think of his trailer particularly for the 'pulling out my stinger' its not just that bees die once their stingers are used…Bees can actually sting insects multiple times "they also have stingers, but they can only sting mammals once and then they die. They can, however, sting other insects over and over again to protect the hive." that mammals have thick skin that they cant pull their stinger out of. causing them to die when trying to pull it out that theyre pulling out the stinger, these 'gentleman' [the wolves theyre portrayed as in his trailer his stinger to be caught] he only struck out of necessity- out of hostility from the other even when he waited to strike, his patience can only last so long

Vera [my love and personal favorite girl] as scorpion all about reflection of the self- of who/what she isnt "When I look at myself in the mirror, I wonder if I should show more kindness to others." in her description

a woman cast out continually by others around treated as lesser of the two sisters and odd, to have her interests dashed by her own parents over and over, that no one 'cared' Chloe Nair disappeared, that she could play the part of vera "The vast majority of scorpions are nonsocial, solitary animals that interact only at birth, during courtship, or for cannibalism." cannibalism, to not just eating another but if we want we can even infer the whole 'there can only be one scorpion. eating the twin. taking that place of territory.

jack as a centipede- which are natural hunters and aggressive by nature purposeful in chasing prey Description: "Mind your temperance in hunting; only then can you enjoy everlasting fun." the painted on red grin of his face. he's remorseless. this is all ripper and how he thrives as the predator, that for him this is his entertainment. its almost funny hes a prisoner here to be 'reformed' when he shows no sign of care for his prey or what he did. The only one with a painted smile - red that could have been made to symbolize how he eats his prey and thats blood

Norton as Ant Description: "What has group living taught me? To enjoy competition and embrace pressure? Or one should possess charity to avoid being perceived as evil."

the 2nd blatant piece of information before fools gold drop about how being around those other miners weren't that nice, competition and pressure? how he would help his family before fully leaving when he seemed to be a caring boy

like a miner ants both dig under the ground in careful crafted tunnels and hard workers but are also looked on upon with no empathy by many from kids to adults and regarded with disgust, trying to take the scraps to live and survive. That their lives hold no worth- especially with how many there are seen as pests even though they dont bite [except fire ants of course but this is just a regular ant]

naiad as a mayfly which "They usually come out of the water at dawn or just before nightfall to transform into adults, but some species leave the water at midday. Males usually surface well before the females" they are completely water 'born' bugs if you want to say. they went so far to make sure all these insects/arachnids [scorpions are arachnids did you know] are so well thought out to fit these characters

Description: "If fate favors those with diligence, why do I remain drifting on treacherous waters?" Shes the only one who in this line up hasnt been clearly identified as a 'killer' however thinking back to her original story is the drought enough reason to place the charge of manslaughter on her if people are deprived of enough resources they starve? or will we find something later

what we will find in future grace letters, her debut S shes to take the lives of the wretched in her b tier here she had to have killed someone to end up here matching the other prisoners in that regard

in rosemary shes aligned with uriel labs and the death of bella donna among who knows who else that dm caused from the employees work

[inkabelledesigns]

Today is a really special day in gaming. Paper Mario: The Thousand Year Door is rereleasing on Nintendo Switch, and I am so happy. This was one of my sister's favorite games growing up, and subsequently, one of my favorite stories in the Mario world by far. So today I'd like to tell you a story about how we got introduced to this game, because it's actually quite funny.

See when I was a kid, we didn't have a lot in the way of videogames the way that most people know them today. Our first home console was a Wii in 2008, and by then I was a preteen. We only had an inkling of what games were outside of a CD-ROM because of my cousin, who played on a Gameboy Advance at all of our family gatherings. But as we got older and were ready for the internet, my sister got into Mario, and I was into Sonic. And we'd scroll through Wikipedia, looking at all these games that made up our favorite heroes' adventures. That was the first time we heard of the Paper Mario series. Seeing as we had no GameCube or way to play GameCube games, we found a let's play of TTYD that was really funny, and we watched it all the way through more than once.

One fateful day, Mom took us out to GameStop, and we were browsing through the used games. This was back when they still had GameCube games mixed in with the Wii selection, and we struck gold. Paper Mario TTYD was hiding amongst the other games present, and my sister and I freaked out. We knew this game sold for a lot, but there it was, right at our local GameStop, for a relatively reasonable price. A treasure of legend that seemed unattainable, and yet here it was, right in her hands. We knew nothing of how to make a GameCube game work on the Wii, we'd never had a reason to learn. But in that moment, we asked for help. The GameStop employees there were kind enough to help us. We walked out of there with the adventure of a lifetime, Sonic Riders Zero Gravity for me, and I wanna say a Madcatz controller, because that was all they had. X'''D They had to call the GameStop in the mall for us, because the last thing we needed was a memory card, and sure enough they had one! So Mom brought us over, and we had all the tools so that my sister could play this thing.

Booting it up was magical. It's one of the most fun stories Mario has ever told, and seeing it on my screen was nothing short of a treat. And it's continued to be that way for a long time. I've got fond memories of my sister coming home on college breaks and taking some time in the evening to try and beat it again. It never got old.

Yesterday she texted my other sister and I, so excited about the remaster today. And I couldn't help but smile, remembering just how much she loved that original experience. And while I'm not playing it yet (not until we get a really good discount), I'm hoping it's a wonderful experience for all of you who are. There's so much I love about this entry. It's got great characters, a fun art style, great music, and truly a wonderful story that kept me on my toes. The humor was great too. The party members in this one are some of the best Paper Mario has ever had. I hope you love them all. I hope you have so much fun playing it or watching someone you love play it.

[thestarlightforge]

What the Antihero, Your Villain, Has Left

12/31/22

***

It’s interesting how sometimes, the early stages of grief are anger, and these fade into sadness until sadness is all that’s left for a long time—and sometimes, it’s the other way around.

When I was a teenager and had a messy friend-divorce, a situation which left me extremely isolated and cut off from most of my close friends, it was sadness that followed fury. I was angry for years—about how they behaved, what they had said, their abandonment and betrayals. Until eventually, I just missed them—their memories lit in blues, shades of melancholy finally mixing with peace.

But even now at age 24, when you would hope such things would seem less material than in childhood—since adults, in theory, can choose where they go, where they live, and who they see—when I have to leave my extended family after holiday visits, I am left not with sorrow, but with wrath.

For much of my childhood, I simply cried when we left them. I didn’t cry much as a kid—my sibling cried more often—but when I got injured (Brittle Bones) and when we would leave: Those were the times I cried. We would get in the car, and I’d weep for hours. That kind of crying that’s so intense, you choke on your snot from the utter hopelessness. Sometimes, I’d barely get out a “goodbye.” Just had to hope they knew.

Some of those tears were angry, I’m sure, and sobbing can tear forth from the body as violently as screaming can. But in theory, crying is a more helpless, sad emotion, relegated to emasculation—while anger breaks out, from snide remarks to roars, imbued with some fool’s-gold version of power. Whether erudite or brutish, ire can feel like strength, like righteousness—like taking control back.

There is a black torrent of feeling that pours from waves of this realization: That other people could have chosen a whole different life for you, but they didn’t, and you couldn’t. That a world almost existed in which this endless cycle of grief you experience was replaced by a robust support system of family and community—no matter how broken or strange—when you were so young, you couldn’t even form memories of living far away. But it doesn’t exist.

You don’t know how things would’ve turned out in this other world. But from the little glimpses you’ve gotten every school or work vacation all your life, you feel like it would’ve been a good one. A life where, when disaster struck, family may have shown up more often (whether by will or ability). There would’ve been places to go, people to see, when fighting started or struggles arose. Friends to hold in good times and sad.

What or whom you might’ve missed out on in this phantom reality, you do not know—who you may or may not have become is anyone’s guess. But you would’ve been free of this bullshit, anyway.

It does not dignify abusive characters, of course. But I wonder, sometimes, if people who condemn antiheroes, or characters who struggle to do “good,” simply have not tasted much of disempowerment. There is an emptiness, a longing, a helplessness so profound it struggles to find description—and from that, a bitter, deep and primal rage—that is wrapped into the understanding that you almost had the love you deserved, but it was taken from you. That even if you manage to build new things, there are worlds of love you missed out on—worlds you didn’t have to miss, if only for a few different choices.

Tragic corruption arcs in stories are composed out of characters having blended culpability for this: Characters make some of these choices for themselves, usually after some are made for them. Redemption arcs come after and, as much as I love them, sometimes have a habit of individualizing the consequences of systems of oppression—characters accept blame for their own traumas, instead of anyone holding the people or oppressive world who hurt them accountable.

But either way, the best written antiheroes and villains emerge from shadows of love.

Even if someone hasn’t experienced this personally, art is meant to confer empathy—I don’t understand why the “complicated antihero/villain” phenomenon is so hard for some people to grasp. Maybe because they would rather stay in sadness. Because they want to believe they wouldn’t pick up the daggers, the magic or the poison. That they could never lash out so. That if confronted with the power to remake their world—to tear their love and justice from the jaws of those who took or would take it, or at least to punish them—they wouldn’t be tempted.

But as I sit in the back seat of the car, my parents driving us away from my loved ones once again, my disabled (24 y/o) “adulthood” be damned—away from the kinds of support systems that nearly all of my cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents had close by all my life, while my parents, sibling and I lived elsewhere:

I understand.

[madamegemknight]

WHO is your favorite muppet. tell me. if you can't decide then top 3?

AUGH this is so difficult. thank you for the top 3 option but even then this was like the greatest challenge of my career there are so many good muppets...this list is definitely subject to change in the future

uhhh one of them definitely has to be Kermit! I know Kermit is kind of the default answer, but he's the default answer for a reason - he's such a versatile character while still retaining such a clear personality, and you can really put Kermit into any situation and it'll work! He's such an interesting character to look at evolution-wise, too, considering he's one of the earliest muppets; Sam and Friends-era Kermit is still recognizable as Kermit, but he's so distinct at the same time. Also this is going to be so cheesy but Kermit is genuinely such a comforting figure to me, that frog is my dad for real <3 sometimes if I'm having a rough day I'll put on a playlist of Kermit Sesame Street moments and just watch him talk to kids or draw the letter J in the air lol

Another is Red Fraggle! Red is SUCH a good character oh my gosh, the Fraggle Rock writers struck gold with her. Fraggle Rock does such a good job at making its characters flawed, if that makes sense, and Red is no exception; she's mean, she's self-obsessed, she refuses to admit when she's wrong, and I LOVE her for it ^-^ but at the same time too she isn't JUST the mean self-obsessed one! She's also the silly one, and the one who Gets Cotterpin when nobody else does and starts a massive domino chain that leads to harmony between the Doozers and the Fraggles, and a great singer, and the star athlete, and Mokey's Totally Platonic Gal Pal, and UGHH I could gush about Red all day she's so well-rounded. It certainly helps that Karen Prell (her puppeteer) is tied for my Favorite Muppet Performer alongside Richard Hunt :)

SPEAKING OF RICHARD HUNT I LOVE FORGETFUL JONES SO MUCH!! probably not the most well-known character, but I was suffering with some memory issues in late 2023 (which thankfully seem to be gone), and as silly as it sounds Forgetful made it somewhat tolerable :) he definitely started out as a joke character, but Richard Hunt was SUCH a good puppeteer and really elevated him to a whole other level. He's so caring and kind and the fact that canonically the two things he'll always remember are his girlfriend's name (Clementine) and that he loves her is just 🥺 oughhh I love Forgetful and Clementine so much, I wish they had appeared more often (and I wish I could actually find the episodes where they do CURSE YOU HBO MAX FOR GETTING RID OF ALL OF YOUR SESAME STREET STUFF)

augh there are still so many muppets I wanna mention. uhhh honorable mentions to: gobo fraggle. boober fraggle. mokey fraggle. wembley fraggle. zondra jim henson hour. digit jim henson hour. cotterpin doozer. emmet otter. alice otter. every single dude from the inner tube pilot. TAMINELLA GRINDERFALL WITCHIEST WITCH OF THEM ALL. melora is not a muppet but she was in a muppet production so I'm counting her. yorick sam and friends. bernice sam and friends. sprocket. miss piggy obviously I love her and her dubiously canon traumatic past. scooter and skeeter. jojo jim henson hour. rowlf. robin. denise muppets 2015 who was done so dirty. sidebottom fraggle. LIMBO HOW COULD I HAVE FORGOTTEN LIMBO. uhhh okay cutting it off here because if I don't this honorable mention will just be me listing off every muppet ever. actually wait tug boo and molly. there now I'm done. thank you for this ask I very much appreciated it :D

[hybrid-the-folf]

The Broken King

This will be the first part of my book, The Broken King. Characters that will be used in oneshots will be introduced in here. For those interested, enjoy.

TW: Mild Gore

Another cry rang out from the blood soaked battle field as another life was lost to the living and was joined with Valhalla. The soldiers and dragons helped all they could, though it seemed like with each punch that was struck, their enemy only laughed at the painless blow. “These creatures are called the Blight. They came from the void era as a punishment from Odin to the majestic altars and smaller gods. In His mind, he was the only one allowed to create, anything else must be destroyed.”

His father drank some of his whiskey as he continued on. “Me and my mages have tried everything we can think of to destroy them, but nothing seems to help. Their black slime trailing down their corrupted bodies only contaminates the ground. There hasn’t been a single fresh harvest for weeks now.” Sule took a deep breath, he knew as prince of his people that if the need should arise he would be sent out on a quest for help.

As a young kid he had loved the idea of it, to take up grathule, his sword, and brave the world beyond, but looking at his father, his gray hair, the black mark on his arm that seemed to spread by the hour, and the thinning of such strong arms, Sule wanted to stay home, if only to be with his father during his dying moments. “You can’t ask this of me. Not when the kingdom is like this!” Sule begged, tears in his eyes.

“Alright, I won’t ask, but the people will. It is our job as royalty to protect our nation. You can turn me down, but can you turn them down when they start asking?” His father looked out the stone window to a mother clutching her baby, before performing the death rituals that would ensure safe travels to the other side. The king looked back at Sule, serious as steel, but with the undercurrent of worry that almost no one would notice.

“There is a tale of an artifact so strong that the securement of it would promise life to everyone here and godlike powers to the wearer. It is called the Cat’s Gold. It is a large golden hoop that lies in the kingdom of Cathen. The inhabitants are catlike titans, with a step so light only the trained ear can hear them, night sighted eyes, impeccable hearing, smell better then the average human, and claws and fangs so sharp that they can slice through bone like butter. Their intellect when it comes to hunting, tracking, fighting, and magic is almost like they have been blessed by the gods themselves. While the people themselves are dangerous, it is their king that you should be most afraid of. King Tobias is said to have been alive for so long that he has absorbed the power of the very universe. He is precise with his actions and knows exactly how to command his people.”

Sule stared in shock, not only was his father asking him to go on a quest during active warfare with the blight, but he was also asking him to steal from King Tobias. The very same Tobias that legends say is the last of the all powerful altars, whose very word brought the stars into existence. Not only this, but many people had tried to take the Cat’s Gold before, and if Tobias was as deadly as his father was saying, then there was no doubt in his mind that he was going to walk into a death trap. “Your saddle, stead, and bags are already packed and in the stables, all you have to do is grab anything that would be useful against such a being, and set off.” His father leaned in close, grabbed Sules head, and gave him a kiss on the forehead. “May the strength of Valhalla be with you my son. Let us hope not to have our next meeting there.”

Sule brought his fathers forehead against his. He briefly considered where they would truly meet again, before brushing the dark thoughts away and enjoying the final moments he had with his father. “You better not be dead when I get back you old sack of bones,” Sule whispered under his breath when the two finally broke apart. “I’m not ready to be a leader, not yet.” With a final look back, Sule set off to the potion making room in order to grab some worsnine. This was a reed (Sule always forgot the name of said reed) that had been enchanted so that its locked magic could come to the surface.

One of the first lessons that any mage would learn was that there was always some kind of innate magic to each plant in existence. One could unlock this magic by using their own to override the barriers that kept the innate magic at bay. Worsnine had the ability to cause someone to fall into a deep sleep rather quickly, granted one gave the other person the proper amount. Considering this fact, Sule decided to grab a bundle of worsnine with the knowledge that cats were particularly sensitive to this kind of plant, it being a part of the family of catnip plants. If the worsnine worked well with normal cats, then surely a humanoid cat as big as a mountain would also be greatly affected by the plant. That is if said cat didn’t crush him first.

With a deep sigh, Sule went off in search of his next item, bravule tipped arrows. This type of venom was deadly with even the slightest touch of it leading to an untimely end. Sule didn’t want to kill Tobias, a great king like that was needed by his people. This was supported by the fact that the cats of Cathen were not known for going out of their way to kill others, rather they preferred to be left alone. Still, going up against an altar meant bringing everything to the table, even items that one hoped not to use.

The final stop was to get some rope, a hook, climbing shoes, a dark cape so that hiding during the night, the time that Sule planned to strike, would be easier, and makeup in case he needed to become camouflaged within the woods. When everything was packed up, Sule mounted his stead, looked back once more at his kingdom, and set off. The first few nights weren’t so bad as he and midnight, his stead, made their way through the woods. He would hunt and eat what he could so that he could keep his provisions up for the time he spent in Cathen. He’d rather be prepared for food that he couldn’t eat then accidentally poison himself. Trouble began to occur on day six with the introduction of nightmares.

This was nothing new, he’d been having nightmares all throughout his life, but he really didn’t need the extra stress that they would bring him. Most of the time the nightmares would involve the dead coming back to life, the blight dripping down from their skulls, or they would consist of combat and misery. The second type of nightmares gave Sule the weirdest of emotions, an almost familiar, friendly feeling accompanied by the feeling of eyes being on him. This was made worse when he paired the fact that the form he took was that of a decaying cat, part of his own skull even being exposed.

This time, he dreamed that he was a mouse hiding in the tall grass. He would sit there, trying to figure out what he was going to do for his pups who were hiding in a nearby burrow. They needed food and they needed it quickly. One had already died within the previous days. As he tried to look for some new source of scraps, he would hear the sound of a bell growing closer and closer to his location. He would sit up, and the bell would stop, but if he idled for too long, the bell would continue to get closer and closer. This cycle would continue until he saw the cat. The cat had long, pitch black fur, and bright, sharp fangs. When he saw the cat, he would run as fast as he could back to the pups. When he reached the pups however, all he would find was a pool of blood.

It would be at that moment that the cat would catch up and sink its teeth into his throat. When Sule woke up, he would be in a panic, usually needing to take an hour just to calm down in order to carry on with his journey. The dreams would only get worse from there though, with maggots being added to the pool of blood, chunks of flesh missing from the cat, and maggots being found within those wounds. The blight would even cover more and more of that damned bell as time went on. The dreams didn't help his current surroundings at all, as the trees and even grass kept growing around him each day. Oftentimes when he woke up, he would promptly need to vomit. His sleep being cut short, he was unprepared for day twenty-five. This day promised rain, and lots of it. Sule tried to do everything he could to protect Midnight and his precious supplies, but only managed to protect his supplies by climbing up one of the trees. He still remembered the whinny of the horse as the floodwaters came down, sweeping the body to who knows where.

It took a full thirty days of travel in the wilderness before Sule was able to reach the kingdom. Though it was not the kingdom proper, it was a start as Sule stared at the farm before him. Giant cows, birds, and what looked like a giant species of rat, even to the Cathar, the name he had begun to call the giant cats. The name had just come to him, feeling right as he thought it. As he looked at the barn, his first reactions were ones of awe, relief, and horror. He realized that the people were not as big as he was expecting, only standing at sixty to seventy feet instead of the hundreds of feet that he had been imagining. This would both hinder and help him in his pursuit. On one hand, they weren’t as terrifying as they had seemed days earlier, but on the other hand, this meant that they would be more likely to notice him. Stealing his nerves, he tried to think of a plan to get into the main city. Staying out here in the countryside would do him no good, but what if he went the wrong direction from here?

What if reaching the city cost him more time then he had wanted to spend?If either of these options were the case, then it would be clear that the blight would take over his kingdom before he ever got the chance to bring them salvation. The idea that came to his mind while he walked did not bring him any comfort in the face of these foreboding thoughts. If he could make it to the barn, then there should be a waggon or a carriage. If he could stay on the wagon or carriage while the farmer delivered his crops to the city, then he would have an easy way to get in. While it was true that this would not bring him to the castle itself, any day saved on travel was a day that Sule was happy to take. The only danger that Sule still had to figure out was the farmer himself, but that would have to wait until Sule saw what he would be transported on.

As he continued to walk, Sule suddenly felt off, his nerves kicking up as he felt something behind him. His body tensed up, prepared to run as quickly as possible before a thought occurred to him. If he could grab ahold of the farmer, then when the farmer went back to the house or, hopefully, the barn, he could go with a lot faster then he could have otherwise. Looking around, he found the farmer, and was confused as to him being barefoot. Surely, the rocks and thorns would hurt the feet, but maybe these cathar had pads under the foot to help protect against injury. In any case, they were coming closer to him, and with a leap to the side and a grab of the pants, he had boarded.

Luck must have been on his side as the farmer headed back to the barn, more than likely to grab supplies for the harvest of crops that Sule could clearly see starting to grow. Most of the food was unknown to him, but a few sparked interest in him. He had assumed that the growth of the plants that he passed by was normal, especially since he knew that some trees grew to be thousands of feet tall, but with plants he knew being a definitively smaller size than him, something magical had to be happening. Not many people from his kingdom went far away from said kingdom so not much was known about the neighboring lands, but something clearly wasn’t right here.

The ride from the field to the barn was uneventful, if you didn’t count the times where Sule had almost choked on dust clouds or the time when he had been banged against a rock. Sule was almost caught then as the farmer took time to examine his ankle, but climbing up a little more on the pant leg kept him just out of sight. Sule didn’t know how good a cat's sense of smell was, he had heard things ranging from just as good as a dogs to worse than a humans, but if a Cathar couldn’t smell him while he was just underneath their nose, then clearly this heist was going to be easier than he thought. Sule was careful not to underestimate Tobias just yet, too many tales of wannabe adventurers had been circulated about him and the tales they told about what happened to the people were horrifying. Most said that if caught then the thief would simply be crushed, while others said that they would be eaten alive, human flesh tasting similar to rats, or fed to the war beasts. Sule shook his head as he dropped down into the barn.

He’d been panicking enough as is, and with the final stretch of his journey ahead of him, he needed to keep going no matter what. He hid out in the barn for a few days, the farmer harvesting crops all the while. During this time, he found the waggon and decided that the best way to travel was on one of the supporting beams. If he was found within the vegetation then he risked being crushed when they were removed, and the wheels just weren’t a good ride either. While it was true that he could have ridden on the side of the wagon, he doubted he’d be quick enough to hide if needed. It took a few hours to get to the kingdom proper with Sule trying to memorize every landmark along the way. He needed to keep a mental map ready for the next chance he’d have to rest. As it was now, the road was too bumpy for him to do anything other than hold on.

Eventually, they reached a wall with a gate formed into it. Sule looked at it in wonder, it made for a great landmark and an excellent way to protect the city, but it also made Sule wonder just how many more gates he’d have to go to until he reached the center. Thinking it over, if there were more walls that Sule would have to deal with, then it made sense to stay as close as he could to this one until dark, climb it, and hopefully figure out where the castle was from there. Surely, the castle had to be in the center, and if it wasn’t, then he wasn’t sure what he would do. Sule took a moment, trying to find some place to camp for the night as well as watch how the Cathar interacted with each other and lived. Having as much information as he could was beneficial if he was going to take the Cat’s Gold.

He chose a house close to the outskirts of town, as that allowed him to have easy access to the wall and a good rest for his tired muscles. Luckily for him, there was also a small hole leading into the house for him. There was only one problem for that particular entrance, the owners of the house were already trying to patch up said hole. Even if the people weren't there right now, the hole would still be patched up by day's end.

Sule decided that he wasn’t quite comfortable with that, and thus went around the house in order to find a door. If there was a crack under the door, then he would be able to squeeze himself under it without fear of being trapped. Luck was on his side as this was exactly the case. He took off his bag, pushed it under, and then went under himself.

He had to catch himself from gasping loudly at the interior. It looked almost exactly like one of the houses within his own kingdom. The only differences were the ledges and the kitchen. There were many different ledges that looked like they were used for sleeping, and the kitchen was at least double the size of one that he would have been used to. He had seen some of these ledges inside the barn, but had thought that they were there only to allow for extra storage space.

At this point, he assumed that the ledges were almost like a game to the Cathar, where they would choose to sleep in unusual spots for the fun of it. The size of the kitchen clearly meant that cooking was one of the many passions for the Cathar. One thing that he wasn’t quite sure of were the many weapons that lined the walls. If one of the poorer subjects had this many weapons, then what would it look like when he got to the nobility? Just how much security would be within the palace walls? Sule decided that he had learned all he could from his spot on the ground looking around for a good place to camp.

He decided to try the pantry, as he was sure that there would be enough smells to hide his, especially with his past experience with the farmer. He ran up to it, pleased that it opened with relative ease. Going through the pantry with a complex spell that he had learned from the mages in preparation for the journey, he was happy to find that he could eat most of the food there. Curious as to what the taste was, Sule carefully went into the bread bag and stole a few “crumbs” for dinner.

Going to the back of the cabinet, he was excited to find that the back was only covered with a thin sheet of wood. Sule took out his trusty sword, and cut his way into the back. ‘Here,’ he thought, ‘will be a great spot to camp’. Hours passed as he listened to the sounds of the house. He learned that a family of Cather lived in the house, with two parents and a son. The banter between the three of them was nice to listen to, but also reminded him of his own family, of his mother. He had never known her. In fact, most if not all of his childhood memories were unable to be recalled. His father said that he had been hit on the head during a rockslide as a kid, but sometimes Sule wondered differently. All he knew was that while the other people around him enjoyed the company of their parents, and memories of their childhood, Sule was left on the sidelines, alone. He hated being alone, but, as he had done so many times before, he shook his head and focused on the here and now.

After all, it was because of his train of thought that he barely registered the words, “Does this pantry smell strange to you?” Every muscle in Sule’s body tensed up. He had thought he had done well to hide his scent from these cats but clearly he had thought wrong.

“It doesn’t smell too bad to me,” said a male voice, “wait, I’ve got the scent now. It’s just some of the materials I have outside in order to help repair the hole.” Sule breathed out. That had been close. He didn’t want to be this close to being caught again just because he had misjudged the cathar. On the next breath the answer for what to do came to him, catnip. He just hoped that his guess that many cathar had catnip was correct. After a bit more waiting, Sule decided to tuck into his “crumbs.” They were the most delicious thing that he ever had. Even better than the lambas that his family was known for making.

It took all of his willpower not to go back out into the pantry and steal even more bread, that was a task that he would do when he left to scale the wall. Finally, every cathar was asleep, and Sule left his hiding place, trying in vain to not fill up his bag with only bread. The catnip was just on the shelf above where his hiding place was, but with a simple toss and tug of his hook, Sule was up within only a few minutes. “Now, for the fun part,” he thought as he slid down the rope to the bottom of the pantry and opened the door. No one stirred as the door opened and shut. Sule quickly ran to the door outside noting with amusement that he was right, the cathar did sleep on the weird ledges for what seemed like fun.

A quick run to the wall and a quick observation led to the wall being fairly easy to climb, to Sules delight. He only had to rest a few times during his climb up, taking time to appreciate the view each time he had to. While the cathar were terrifying, it was clear that whoever was leading them was doing a great job at it. This fact couldn’t have made itself more evident as he finally reached the top, overlooking most of the kingdom. Even the poor seemed to be living in luxury, and the higher you got in the social structure, the better it got as well. While his father had always strived for the kingdom to be like the one he was looking at now, his father had always failed. Whether that was from not knowing how, to not having the resources, Sule never knew, but it was clear that his father had, was, trying to do all he could for the kingdom, and when Sule thought about it, that was all that could be done.

Sule took a moment to appreciate the kingdom laid before him, noting the location of the castle, and while yes the kingdom would never be his, it was still a beautiful work of art. The quickest route to the castle would be to go straight through the city, a ten to twenty day travel on foot. Sule took one last moment to admire the kingdom before climbing down the wall and starting up the last stretch of his journey. He figured that the best time to travel would be at night as there would be next to no one there, and he could camp out in houses during the day. After about fifteen days he was finally at the castle. He had dealt with a few problems on his way over to it however. One of these issues was the pets. Giant cats with wings were kept as pets and were usually very eager to hunt him down.

There was only one who wasn’t and he was a fat old tom who didn’t really care about Sule too much, so long as Sule wasn’t too close to his food. The other cats weren’t too bad either, so long as he had enough catnip, which would then require him to find more catnip. Another problem was the fact that the closer he got to the castle, the more he realized that these were the houses of the higher command. Since these people were higher up in the military they therefore had harder senses to get around. At one point he was almost caught because he had been making too much noise while climbing up onto a nightstand for more catnip, but after waiting it out, he was free to go. The final problem was that he had to sleep in the streets at times because he simply couldn't find a good house to rest in.

This wasn’t too bad of an issue on its own, but over time it had sapped Sule of some of his strength. All that was behind him though as he cleared his head, heart racing, and started at the castle. He had watched as guards went in and out of it all night and day afterward, there wasn’t much else he could do with the adrenaline pumping in his veins. ‘Now!’ he thought as another guard went into the castle, racing after him but careful not to get too close. He wasn’t about to be crushed, not when he was this close to the Cats Gold. As soon as he entered the castle, he looked for the bedroom that would hold Tobias as well as the treasure room. His gut told him that something that powerful couldn’t be left too far out of Tobias’ sight, but he also wanted to keep all his bases covered, just in case.

This wasn’t too hard as the guards seemed to be more cautious of larger intruders, though there were still a few guard cats on the loose. Sule eventually found the treasure room, and looked through everything as the night went on. Nothing matching the description was there. Cursing to himself, he looked for the bedroom, but didn’t find it in time as the sun was slowly lifting into the sky. Sule climbed his way to the window, unlatched it, and hid out with the gargoyles for the rest of the day. He did take a few looks into the castle as the day went on, just to make sure that he didn’t overlook anything as he kept an eye out for clues as to the whereabouts of the Gold.

It was in the last place he expected it to be. Directly on Tobias’ left ear was a solid hoop of Gold. It fit the exact description that his father had given to him. If Sule was to get it, he would have to lift it off of Tobias’ very ear without being heard somehow. He didn’t even know if the reed he’d brought with him would make Tobias’ fall asleep that deeply. If that wasn’t enough, there was also a nicely shaded blue cat with him. His wife. His Queen. Yet another obstacle that would prevent him from getting the Gold, as if the fact that the damned thing was a fucking earing wasn’t enough.

It was as if Odin himself was laughing at Sule. As night came, Sule’s panic started back up again. He had to get the earring, he had to or else his entire kingdom was dead. Shaking, but determined, Sule went back into the castle. He followed guards until, at last, he found the bedroom he had been trying to look for what seemed like a lifetime. Now the only thing left was to strike while the guards were away. He raced towards the bed, staying in the corner next to Tobias’ head, a hard thing to point out with such deep black fur. Luck be with him, the earring was at an angle that Sule could take if he just got close enough.

When the next guard left the room, he struck. He took the reed out of his bag, and held it in his teeth while he climbed. He was going to be forced to use one half on Tobias and the other half on the queen that Sule had nicknamed Blue. Hopefully, that would be enough. He was quick, but bristled as Tobias’ rolled over yet again, this time with the earring being right in the air while the other ear was shoved into the pillow. Pressing forward, Sule raced to the point in between the pillows, throwing the reed over both Blue and Tobias. It had seemed like Sule’s luck had run out when Tobias opened his eyes and fixed both eyes on him. They stared at each other for only a split second before Tobias’ eyes fell shut. The reed had clearly worked better than expected.

Sule stared at Tobias for a few more minutes, before jumping into action, wiping the tears off his face, and climbing up to the ear. The moment he touched the earring he had a severe reaction. Memories of torture, death, and misery flashed through his mind so fast he couldn’t catch his breath. Looking down at his hands, he breathed deeply. Shaking his head, he carefully took off the earring. Memories or not, he had a job to do and a people to come back to. It took a few attempts and a fuckton of concentration, but he used the earring to teleport back home. He knew the cathar would be after him soon, it was only a matter of time at this point, but he was left in despair at the state of his home. The blight had destroyed everything. It was as if a comet had struck the earth and had left everything black. He quickly teleported into his castle, desperate to find his dad. He found what was left of him on the frontlines, a sword sticking out of his corpse.

Sule stared at him for hours, processing the fact that he had come too late. Hoping against hope, he used the Cat’s Gold to animate the dead, wishing that everything would be alright. While the corpse did rise, it wasn’t alive. More of a mangle pile of parts then anything else. He screamed, using the earring again to lay the body to rest. Heaving heavy breaths, he took a look at the earring, then at his kingdom, then at the earring again. He’d have to return it.

Better for a king that has an actual kingdom to have it then one that just has ashes. Even if he was to go after the blight, he wouldn’t know how to. A giant thumping sounded in the distance. Sule didn’t move. If Tobias wanted to kill him, and he was more than sure he did, then why run. At least this way he could return the earring to him. A thump sounded from just off to his side. Sule didn’t react. “I’ll give you just this one chance to return the-”

“Take it. I have no need for it. My people are all gone now, you still have yours. Lead them well. And please, just make it quick.” A pause sounded above him.

“I’m going to give you a choice, you can either come back to Catheen with me or I can leave you here.”

“Why the mercy?”

“All you wanted the earring for was your people, right? Now that you can’t do anything, you're giving it up. You should have just come to me in the first place, but I’m willing to let you live for now.” Unease grew as Sule continued to stay close to Tobias. Those memories he saw from just holding that earing, he wanted to know more.

“Fine, I’ll come with. There’s nothing left for me here anyway.” He wasn’t about to let any information slip about what had happened, but gaining some understanding would definitely be nice.

“Alright, let's go.”

[raidergamerspice]

It feels like forever ago, but I once made a tumblr post about what I thought Melanie Martinez's Cry Baby album plus the EP tracks would look like if all the songs were lowercase, to contrast the PORTALS songs all being uppercase. I still think it would've been a neat idea 🤷‍♀️

But anyway, I bring that up because I got struck with another idea: trying to figure out new names for some of the Cry Baby era songs (most of them outtakes) to better fit the theme of childhood. Like, one of the most important parts Melanie's albums is that the songs for each album fit the theme for said album, from Cry Baby being about birth and childhood to K-12 being about school and growing up, and PORTALS being about spirituality and rebirth. But when looking at all the songs from the Cry Baby era, especially the outtakes, I can't help but notice many of them having names that just...don't strike me as childhood-themed. I'm not criticizing Melanie in her talent, obviously she named each song whatever she felt fit them best, and I still respect that. But I also can't help but think that some songs stick out like sore thumbs when you take the overall theme into consideration.

So, here are my ideas for what to rename certain Cry Baby era songs to better fit the theme:

Bittersweet Tragedy: Melted Ice Cream. The lyrics mention melting a couple times, as well as ice cream near the beginning. I feel like a good metaphor for a relationship falling out could be the feeling of ice cream melting in your hands; it was gone before you could really enjoy it. And of course, kids would be devastated if ice cream melted before they could eat it. Plus, there was a missed opportunity for Melanie to not have a song called Ice Cream - yes, there is I Scream, technically, but no reason to not have both. Two outtakes are literally called Eraser and Erase Her.

Bombs on Monday Morning: Pinky Promise. This was really what kickstarted my idea because even though it's a great song for an outtake, a title like that is not very kid like. Kids should not be exposed to bombs. Period. So, I figured that Pinky Promise is a more childhood-themed title, especially since that's what opens the whole song in the lyrics. Alternatively, it could even be shortened to simply Monday Morning, though perhaps a title like that would fit the theming for K-12 more than Cry Baby since it could also be school-related (although bombs and school going together is not something we like to think about, ever).

Dead To Me: Rainy Days. It's mentioned once in the lyrics to go along with the main premise of the song being present at a funeral in the rain. Personally, I hope that children aren't going around and telling people "you're dead to me" in any context, so try Rainy Days instead. Some kids like rainy days because they can jump in puddles and whatnot, or they don't like rainy days because it means they can't play outside. Either way, kids have some kind of connection to rainy days.

Drowning: Clock in the Kitchen. This was a weird one because to quote the Melanie Martinez wiki, "This song is an unfinished concept with no concrete theme, tune, or even confirmed lyrics. It contains some gibberish as Melanie was trying out different melodies for the song and did not have many lyrics figured out, and its already existing lyrics seem to tell a vague story that doesn't make much sense." Because of this, the only lyric available that I figured could be somewhat childhood-themed is Clock in the Kitchen. I don't know, maybe some kids grew up with cuckoo clocks in their parents' kitchen? Besides, a Cry Baby outtake called Drowning has me thinking of Ben Drowned 💀

Gold Diggin' Love: Shelved. Kids really shouldn't be exposed to gold diggers at a young age. But like Drowning, this was a pretty hard one to rename. I settled with Shelved since it is a word in the lyrics, and it made me think of Toy Story 2, with Mr. Potato Head telling Rex that "Woody's been shelved". Kids definitely would have their favorite toys or other items be "shelved" for one reason or another. Plus, within the context of the song, the titular Gold Digger basically "shelves" her lovers as she goes through them.

Half Hearted: Half and Half. In this case, I'm mostly projecting a part of my own childhood - one time when I was a kid, I ate cereal with half and half instead of milk because we were out of milk and I thought there wasn't a difference. My mom found it funny, but I haven't done that since. Maybe there were kids that made that same mistake, or there could be other instances where "half and half" describes a certain situation? I don't know, maybe this song didn't need a rename.

Haunted: Ghost Stories. I suppose you can argue that this didn't need a rename either since kids might love the scare of a certain place being "haunted", like haunted houses. But in case it was too scary to childhood-themed for the album, Ghost Stories might be a better alternative, since kids also love telling/hearing ghost stories.

Mistakes: Break Rules. I'm kinda reaching at this point, mainly because the first thing I thought of when I saw the title of this song was the fact that some kids were told by their parents that they were "mistakes", and that's heartbreaking. Since the song is about childhood rebellion, I thought that Break Rules or something similar was a slightly nicer name.

Psycho Lovers: Down the Rabbit Hole. I mean, explain to me how a title like Psycho Lovers can be childhood-themed. I don't think you can. Since the lyrics involve asking someone to go down a rabbit hole with them, I thought that'd be a great alternative, especially since it can go hand in hand with Mad Hatter.

Schizo: Favorite Toy. Schizophrenia is definitely a difficult subject for children to comprehend in any context, so I personally find it hard to imagine a kid referring to someone with it as a "schizo" (I could be wrong, of course, maybe it's happening somewhere in the world right now). But with the lyrics presenting Melanie as someone else's "favorite toy" for someone else really made a case for Favorite Toy to be a good alternative title. I mean, kids always have favorite toys.

Trophy Wife: Miss Pageant Queen. Much like Gold Diggin' Love, a trophy wife is something I don't like the idea of children knowing about at a young age, since it could potentially lead them to growing up believing that that's an acceptable term to describe someone as. And since there are kids that compete in pageants, I feel like Miss Pageant Queen was a more fitting name for the theme. Of course, child pageants in general are a bit of a rough subject anyway, in my opinion, but I digress.

You Love I: Puppet Show. I don't know if kids would ever say "you love I" in any context, 'cause I wouldn't as an adult. But I can assume that some kids enjoy puppet shows, so Puppet Show might be a better alternative.

What do you think? Are these good alternative names? I don't completely want to replace their names in my head or anything, I just think that, if Melanie committed to the theme of childhood for all the songs she wrote for the Cry Baby era, these might have been what she'd use, too.

As for her other era songs, I only came up with alternative names for a small handful of After School songs (all but one being outtakes, of course). I just felt like they didn't exactly fit the school them like the others:

Absorb: Project Piece. I'm honestly not sure why Melanie settled on naming it Absorb when something like Project Piece was right there, especially since it fits the song's theme of two people trying to make their relationship work. Working on a project is a perfect metaphor for a couple working on their relationship.

Brain & Heart: Calculated. I actually love the original title, but again, it just doesn't really fit the school theme that much, in my opinion. I feel like Calculated would fit better, since everyone used calculators in school lmao.

Maze: Blame Game. I've personally never been to a school that had a maze, if we're being literal. I know that they exist, but I've never physically seen one. I feel like Blame Game is slightly better since school is full of so much drama, blame games are played all the time.

Paper Cut: Stitches. This one is different from the others because it's not that I don't think the original title is school-themed, 'cause it is. It's just that...there's also a K-12 outtake called Papercut. As you can imagine, fans are annoyed that two different outtakes have far too similar names (they're literally the same name, with one having a space breaking it up), so many of them have opted to refer to it as Stitches instead to reduce confusion.

Phew, that was a lot lmao. What do you think of these? Are they good ideas, or was there no reason for me to even bother? I mainly did this as a fun project, as it were, and I just wanted to share with the class (heh, these school puns).

Also, I left the PORTALS era songs alone because they honestly seem fine on their own, for the most part (though WALKIE TALKIE is an interesting one 🤔)

[edgelordfinalboss]

Part One: Outlaws of Santa Carla (The Lost Boys Fanfiction/ Western American AU Fanfiction)🤠🦇✨🖤

Paul was never going to be an outlaw.

It was never in his plans, being that he was the son of Santa Carla's most renowned pianist, pioneering the occupation for the last few years. From salon to open venues, he was at his father's side, learning all that there was to know. His fingers memorized each key like the back of his hand. That was until his father was turned. Since that night, he vowed that he would never allow another person he loved to fall into the same fate. 

Paul's bubbling ambition to outstand his father's Mozart worthy talent had turned into dust. The roadmap that was so clear, his plans of getting better, to deviate from the same tunes and cut and copy songs that riled up crowds was no longer. 

The wind had willed him here and who was he to fight against it?

Paul shoves his fingers deeper into the warm sand. No one.

"Marko!"

The slanting sunlight spread across the ground, giving a strong reflective gleam to pooling blood that lays under a vampire hunter. The face of the corpse makes him sick, claws drawn deep into his face, highlighting a broken jaw. He had seen the worst, but at the very end of their journey, this seemed to be the one that struck him the hardest. With the sun obstructing his view, his eyes find his closest friend. 

Marko grips his stomach where the bullet had slammed into him, leaving a trail of blood splattered in the sand. His fangs glow in the light as he gasps for air. 

"Marko, what happened!" Paul breaks from the treeline boarding the empty space besides Marko, the hunter and a single horse chewing at a patch of grass. 

Slowly, Marco stops, lifting his bloody clawed hands away from his crimson stained tunic, revealing a completely healed spot. Paul tucks his golden locks behind his ear as he nears, trying to push off the panic attempting to burst at the seams. Marco reaches to the hunters belt, plucking away an obsidian encrusted dagger. 

"We did it. Now you don't have to put us in danger anymore. Now we can be free." Paul's thoughts race around his head, filling him with a joy that weeks and weeks of journey and sleeping with one eye open couldn't bring him.

"Thank God!" He huffs, his boots slamming into the hot sand of the endless golden stretch. 

Marko doesn't move. His blue eyes remain empty, leaving no remains of the gold that once filled them. They stay fixed on the horizon, the sun slowly dropping in the sky, painting the evening with hues of cobalt and violet. 

Paul draws back from his childhood friend who he had tried so hard to accept despite the revelation of him being a vampire. It had been hard and deep in the facade of love and kindness that he had shown for his friend was the will to walk away. To accept defeat. 

"What's wrong?" Paul's voice grows silent as his eyes draw to the dagger of Billy the Kid. This was the famed dagger that the outlaw carried, changing his victims into creatures of blood or himself before using it to change back to a man. 

Marko shakes his head, flipping the black blade between his blood stained fingers. "You will accept me when I kill a part of myself."

"What?" Paul carefully curls his fingers around the boy's shoulder. His fingers work their way into his shoulders. "You know that isn't true."

Marko wipes the blood from his cheeks, eyes lighting up with a soft gold gleam again.

"Then why did you lead me to Billy's grave?" Marko looks at the broken gravestone and the hole that had once been there, half covering the skeleton. 

"To help you, to set you free from this hunger." A burning feeling of annoyance grips Paul, all his hard work and dedication thrown to the wind. Time and a messed up reputation that only very good lies will have the power to clean.

"Free me?" Marko echos. "We killed men for this. You didn't free anyone Paul. If anything, you drove us into a well we can't crawl out of."

"Not true!" Paul snaps. "Those men stood in our way." 

Paul knew he was right. There was no mistaking that. He did what he could, even if his morality was wrong. 

"If I become human and we go back to that town, they'll execute us."

Paul blows a breath. "We'll become outlaws, just like Billy did until they forget about us."

"Or get shot and become the price for someone's prize money." Marko holds on to the knife tight. "I won't let you change me." 

Paul didn't even have a chance to blink. Marko jumps in his path, kicking up sand clouds, The obsidian blade flashes as it slices through the sunlight. Paul steps back, stunned as his friend, his closest friend threatens him. 

"You're just like them!" Marko yells. 

Paul's mind floats back to their memories, their friendship. All that they have been through. This couldn't be the end. He could not let himself fall into the same raging hunger. 

"This isn't-."

"-this isn't me?" Marko laughs. "That's right, while you were searching for fame, I was fighting for my life on the prairie and now the only way that you'll care about me is if I rid myself of the person who overcame that lonely struggle."

[hazbincalifornia]

New Face

Chapter 62: Blitzo meets the new hand at the ranch before the start of the Games.

Ao3 link

Blitzo flicked at the suspenders tugged above his shirt, feeling them quiver in the process- it was, frankly, a miracle that they hadn’t snapped when forced to stretch across all of the baby belly. To be fair, he had gotten ones that had extra give in them, so they at least didn’t feel like they would die a horrible death on him. He’d dolled himself up as much as his body would currently allow before Stolas insisted on opening a portal a little closer to the ranch, albeit next to the barn. (Not that Blitzo was about to complain, considering he’d probably be standing up for a larger portion of today than he had been recently.)

“Blitz!” Millie waved over to him, and he cracked his back before walking over, feeling his belly sway a little with every step. Fuck, he’d be glad when he could carry the kid in his arms, that seemed like it would be better for balance. Still, he could feel a faint buzz through his veins and his mouth still had an aura of lingering sweet iron as she tilted his head. “How are ya?”

“Never better, Mills.” He cracked a grin. “So, I heard there were some kind of games here- why didn’t you tell me? I should take that off your next paycheck, you know daddy loves that kinda shit.”

“The Pain Games?” The voice was somewhat rough, and Blitz spun to see a cowboy imp turn away from an absolutely gorgeous fire-stallion that immediately had his heart do triple-time. Was he related to Millie, and, follow-up question, would he be allowed to pet him?

“Yeah, those.” Blitzo nodded as the stranger closed some of the distance between them even though he stayed a few steps away, eyes darting up and down Blitzo’s body with a twitch of his lips. Right now, he was just an obstacle to horse-time, though. “So, can I-”

“Bombproof doesn’t like anybody touching him but me, ain’t that right, boy?” He gave the horse a pat and he nickered, nuzzling his muzzle into his side. Blitzo slumped a little at that, but the cowboy clicked his tongue.

“She said that the boss was stayin’ somewhere else for the night... you must be it then, huh?”

“Yep! Mill’s one of our best.” The fact that there were only four of them and three on active duty didn’t necessarily need to be shared, after all. “You one of her brothers?”

“He’s the new hand,” Millie said with a little nod. “Striker, was it?”

“Sure enough, little lady.” he said, nodding back with a little wink at her. “She’s been telling us about how business is going well- being able to wrangle that all up is real impressive, especially with you... full like that.” His tail flicked with a rattling noise as he folded his arms, and Blitzo beamed with pride.

“Once we got the groove, there’s a never-ending supply of sinners who’ve got beef with people they left behind, so hey, it’s just a matter of getting them into the office, y’know?”

“Right, of course. Does that ditzy royal you got up through know you’re...” Striker grimaced a little for half a second before he swallowed it back and waved at his middle, and Blitzo froze for a moment before waving a hand in response.

“It’s- y’know- it was a one night thing, I’ve got a weakness for bad boys so I let ‘em go in raw, and I’m already a dad so what’s one more, right? She’s gonna be a strong little bitch, though! Still need to pick a name, but maybe I’ll get struck by lightning on that soon.” Something else, think of something else- “So! Games! You already knew about ‘em, so you gonna join in?”

Striker took to the sudden switch with ease, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I’ll do one better- I’m going to win.”

“Bold claim, big boy.”

He grinned with one eye narrowed, gold tooth glinting in the daylight. “Trust me, sir, you’ll see.”

“And they’re starting soon!” A new voice called out from near the front of the house, and Blitzo turned to see a taller imp that he knew he’d seen a picture of before. This one he was pretty sure was Millie’s sister. Mallie? S something? Stellie? Sally- Sallie May, that was it. She turned to him, unable to help a little snicker. “You joining in, daddy boy?”

“Hey, are you insinuating I can’t, sweet-cheeks?”

“I’m saying you could drop into the pig pen and I might not notice at first.” Still, there was a mischievous twinkle to her eyes that he liked immediately.

“Depending on what chow you toss in there, maybe I wouldn’t even complain, this not-so-little bitch has me starving all the time.” Blitzo tapped his belly, and she laughed before walking out to join them.

“I’ll see whoever’s not a pussy at the starting line.”

“Hey, hey, that better not be aimed at me!” Millie protested, and Blitzo’s head swiveled.

“Wait, what?”

“Long story, but I’m not allowed to join in anymore,” she muttered as Striker headed down the road with Sallie May. “I’ll be cheerin’ on Sallie, at least, she’s gotta hold up the family name since they made a stupid ‘too many deaths in one round’ rule.”

“That sounds like they just couldn’t handle you.” He ruffled Millie’s hair, and she nudged at his side.

“See, you get it.”

“So, is Moxx coming?”

“Yeah, he was just finishing up in his room, he’ll be down any-”

“Good, sir, you’re here!” Moxxie stuck his head out the front door before jogging over. “Someone locked me in on accident!”

“That was probably one’a the little ones, they’re rascals." Millie said. "Did you pick the lock?”

“Luckily it was an easy one.”

“I see my lessons paid off!” Blitzo repeated the hair-ruffling on Moxxie, who waved him off.

“Anyway, I heard one of them say something about some games before the festival?”

“That’s where we’re heading now. Anything that puts ‘pain’ and ‘games’ together is either gonna be fantastic or awful, so we’ll see when we get there,” Blitzo said as they started walking. “So, Mills, as the local expert, care to spill the details?”

“Sure! Well, first they usually start with the climbing and tying...”

_______________

Blitzo was delighted to discover that walking was far less of a problem than it had been recently- if anything, the weight around his middle was only a balance issue, and once he figured out how to sway his hips properly, she wasn’t as much of a problem as she’d been the past few weeks. Walking was just walking, which probably meant that Stolas's royal heart-snack had given a jolt to his system. Score one for cannibalism.

He scanned over the crowd milling around at the starting line- there was a healthy mix of all genders and body types, although there did seem to be a lower age limit since he didn’t see anyone who looked to be younger than fifteen or sixteen. Then, he glanced over the course, tapping his chin.

There was the protection spell...

“Hmm.”

Moxxie noticed him noticing the layout and grimaced.

“Sir. No.”

“Come on, I could whip the asses of any fucker here, even like this!” He waved a hand over at another clearly-pregnant imp, a short one with pink eyes that looked like he might be part shark that was stretching at the starting line. “That guy’s doing it!”

“That guy also looks like he’s about two months behind you,” Moxxie noted wryly. “What if your water breaks?”

“That’ll give me a couple extra seconds while somebody else slips in it!” Blitzo protested as Moxxie dragged a hand down his face, and Striker chuckled, leaning against the fence.

“Tell you what- I like your guts. We wouldn’t want you fucking both’a you up, so how about you and me just have a friendly little wager? There’ll be plenty of time afterward, so how about we take the mud wrestling pit together and see who ends up on top? Winner buys the loser dessert.”

Blitzo felt a kick, and raised a hand to his stomach to soothe away the baby’s irritation as a grin spread across his face. “Deal.”

[sailing-through-hawkins]

tagged by @xenon-demon @rogueddie and @a-little-unsteddie (≧∇≦)ﾉ

this took me SO LONG to compile because not only did i change my username to be like three times longer but i also added a challenge for myself to use songs i associate with steve (and tumblr deleted my drafts. three times.)

i've also added why i associate them with steve because some of these options may seem odd and also because i love going off about my steve thoughts (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

edit: FORGOT TO ADD THE RULES -

put a song for each letter in your url! either in a reblog or new post!

S: Solar Powered by Fulton Lee, Jacob Sigman

(i imagine a very light-hearted rollerskating session with Steve and Max during summer time, both pulling fancy moves while the rest of the UD gang cheer them on)

A: A Little Bit Happy by TALK

(this gives me Steve talking about how Robin sees him, major self-esteem issues, etc etc)

I: I Was Made For Lovin' You by KISS

(this is the one KISS song i put on loop, and like to me, steve feeling like he was made to love just hits different)

L: Lovely (cover) by Lauren Babic

(i ADORE this artist and this particular cover makes me think about separated stobin in the russian bunker, major angst, 5k with a happy ending -)

I: I'm on Fire by Bruce Springsteen

(i started listening to springsteen after reading this fic that i highly recommend, and this song just got me, it felt so appropriate for steve)

N: Not Alright by Pink Sweat$

(very big steve coping all alone after he deals with the latest UD incident vibe)

G: Golden Hour by JVKE

(i will always promote sun-and-gold-coded steve, always)

T: The One That Got Away by Katy Perry

(okay this one's a little tricky, but after i started this blog i listened to this song and was struck by a steve-centric animatic concept that would take way too long to explain but the Story is There)

H: Her Song by Kaylee Federmann

(same situation as above but this animatic would be a college au ft. Steve's serial dating)

R: Rot by DBMK

(SUCH A STEVE SONG IF YOU LIKE STEVE BEING GUILTY/INSECURE OVER HIS OLD REPUTATION THIS IS THE THEME YOU NEED)

O: On and On by Djo

(i'll be honest this one is purely because it's by Djo but it's a good vibe!!)

U: Untouched by The Veronicas

(OKAY THIS ONE this one gets me it gives me pining and touch-starved friends-with-benefits steddie, the chorus goes so hard for me)

G: Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy by Queen

(it's by queen, it's called lover boy, need i say much more?)

H: Holding Out for a Hero by Adam Lambert

(i was struggling and went through charlie's wonderful playlist and was like oh OF COURSE how did i miss that?? but i went for this version because it really does remind me of steve back in the junkyard)

H: Here's to Being Single by Lost Stars

(ooooh this one!!! it makes me think of stobin lamenting over not being able to get their romantic relationships just right together)

A: Ashes (cover) by Lauren Babic

(again UGH this artist sings so beautifully and this cover really makes me think of the desolation spreading after season 4 and the whole UD gang doing their best to push it back)

W: When the Going Gets Tough, The Tough Get Going by Billy Ocean

(i imagine steve thinking about leaving hawkins often and listening to this song while he drops Dustin off just so he can daydream about it)

K: Kids In America by Kim Wilde

(more of a general UD gang vibe, like the camera cuts to each of them prepping for battle and then fighting against every UD creature that comes their way together)

I: (I Just) Died in Your Arms by Cutting Crew

(once again provided by charlie's playlist after i was struggling to find a good match, like hello self-sacrificial steve anyone)

N: Night Vision by Drives the Common Man

(i loooove the chorus in this, and it also makes me think of monster!steve which we know is what i'm all about)

S: Stranger Things by Survival Kit, IAMCOUCHSURF

(yeah this one was purely for the title, also more monster vibes ( •̀ ω •́ )✧)

i'm too tired to tag anyone so if you see this and wanna try it out yourself, consider this me tagging you!!

[kevinsreviewcatalogue]

Review: Night Swim (2024)

 Night Swim (2024)

Rated PG-13 for terror, some violent content and language

<Originally posted at https://kevinsreviewcatalogue.blogspot.com/2024/01/review-night-swim-2024.html>

Score: 2 out of 5

Night Swim is the quintessential "fuck you, it's January" movie. Hollywood loves to ring in the new year by dumping into theaters the garbage they had no faith in at any other time of the year, because January is when kids are in school, theaters in half the country can get shut down by blizzards, there aren't many holidays offering extended three-week weekends (save for Martin Luther King Jr. Day, which isn't universally celebrated as a day off), and prestige films given limited release in the fall are expanding their theatrical runs in anticipation of the Oscars. And lately, a tradition has been to give the first weekend of the new year over to a low-budget horror movie. While Blumhouse struck rare gold last year with M3GAN, a sci-fi horror film that actually turned out to be far better than its release date suggested it would be, this year January returned to form with Night Swim, a ho-hum ghost story adapted from a 2014 short film where the worst thing about it is that it's not completely wretched. There were seeds of a good movie buried in here, with all-around solid acting and production values, some effective sequences, some cool cinematography, and a nifty central conceit behind its evil pool, and there was a brief moment when it finally started to get good. Unfortunately, as with many movies that were adapted from short films, there's not enough to carry it, resting on the most generic haunted house story possible (but with a haunted pool this time!) to stretch a four-minute short to feature length. It's not the worst January horror film ever made, or even in the Bottom Three (I assure you, the competition is stiff), but it's otherwise completely generic, disposable, and at times unintentionally funny #content that would've been thrown into the wasteland of the direct-to-VOD/streaming market if not for January.

Stop me if you've heard this one: a family called the Wallers, comprised of the father Ray, the mother Eve, the teenage daughter Izzy, and the adolescent son Elliot, has moved into a big, luxurious house whose price is too good to be true, only for them to soon learn why it was so cheap. Namely, it's haunted. Or rather, the swimming pool is. And much like every poor sucker who's ever lived in the Amityville house, the mother Eve and the kids Izzy and Elliot start experiencing supernatural forces when they come in contact with the pool, while the father Ray, a former Milwaukee Brewers player whose baseball career was tragically cut short by multiple sclerosis, sees his illness miraculously cured and starts behaving in increasingly erratic fashion.

If you've ever seen a movie about a family stuck in a haunted house, you've seen this movie. Virtually every plot beat was visible from a mile away, from each family member having their own encounter with the supernatural to the mother doing research on the pool's dark history to somebody getting possessed by the spirit causing all of this. There are random plot threads about the Wallers' neighbors perhaps knowing more about what's happening than they let on, and Izzy's hunky swimmer love interest Ronin being a devout Christian, but the film does nothing with them. Every single plot point here is standard haunted house movie boilerplate, like writer/director Bryce McGuire had a cool idea for a cool scene that he turned into a cool short but never thought about how to turn it into a 90-minute movie until Jason Blum and James Wan decided to give him a lot of money to do just that. The worst part is, once we find out what's actually going on with the haunted pool, a glimpse at a far more interesting movie is had, one focused on Ray as he grapples with how his illness destroyed his life and how whatever's in the pool seems to have given him a second chance -- but one that comes at a terrible cost. As it stood, however, while Wyatt Russell played his stock Horror Dad character well, he never had much of a chance to do anything more beyond play a stock Horror Dad, nor did anybody else in the cast have the opportunity to play the stock Horror Mom, Horror Teen, and Horror Kid. The film wanted me to care about the Wallers as a family, but they were such a thinly-written family that, even when they were in peril, the Eight Deadly Words were ringing in my head: I don't care what happens to these people.

(I will, however, give the film points for having a sense of humor enough to have Izzy's high school be named after Harold Holt, an Australian Prime Minister who infamously disappeared when he went out for a swim on the beach.)

The scares, too, don't really do much to excel. Using a swimming pool as a setting gave some fun opportunities for cool aquatic cinematography that the film readily took advantage of, meaning that, at the very least, this was a pretty nice-looking film. Any sense of originality stopped there, however, as what followed were all the scares you've seen in a dozen other haunted house movies: jump scares ahoy, characters seeing things that aren't there, you name it, all of it done in ways that have been done better before. Characters make stupid decisions constantly, especially the young son Elliot, and while I could at first justify it by saying that at least it was a dumb kid acting stupid around the pool, by the end he really should've known better than to even think about doing what he did. The teenage daughter Izzy had no real purpose beyond recreating the scene from the short film, because that featured a young woman who looked good in a bikini, which meant the movie had to have someone who fit that description. The design of the ghost is a bloated, half-rotted corpse that probably sounded good on paper, but its execution in the movie is almost laughable, leaving a lot to be desired and not coming across as scary in the slightest.

The Bottom Line

Night Swim isn't a movie I'd personally push into the pool, but if somebody did, I'd probably have a good laugh at its expense. It's competent, but beyond the idea of a haunted pool, everything about it is the sort of thing that's been done better before, and worst of all, I can easily see how a better movie could've been made out of the same material. I wouldn't even bother waiting for Netflix.

[gretagerwigsmuse]

After a moment, Nora says, “Since I have no plans to date a Naval aviator, I think I’m safe. No danger there.” - IRONY YOU FICKLE QUEEN!!! okay i had to start off with this part since even tho im not a BIHO reader, i still loved all of the presumable nods to that series! and nora and bradley throwing up side by side moments after having sex made me laugh, so you got me there ames! more below 💕

She spent four whole years watching the future Academy Award winners and nepotism babies of the world do lines off a dirty bathroom counter in a shoebox Greenwich apartment. - thinking of the people who did ❄️ in my college apt now working on the hill

She’s an adult now. Mostly. - sighhhhhh same

until Nora smiled and opened her mouth for him, which will probably make her blush in the morning. - girl….i don’t think that’ll make you blush much longer. bigger fish are about to be frying

heels dangling from a bent finger, shimmering in the blue darkness like miniature disco balls. - this is so pretty!!! is she a mirrorball girl?

“Want to have sex?”  “No, I said – ” “No, I heard you.” - pls i snorted

“Is there a right answer to this question?” - miss girl is here HESITATING and i’m about to jump out of my skin to say yes, it’s already been implied but this just confirms she’s cooler than me

He’s what? Six years older than her? That’s nothing. A guy like him… could probably snap her in half, all broad shoulders and massive arms. - my pants would already be off and she’s still considering!!! NORA PLS!! (6 years older 😮‍💨)

“Just between us…” Nora leaned in. “I’m worried I’m a little overdressed.” His smile widened. “You definitely are. You kind of look like an asshole.” - the back and forth! the banter! ames pls

She shrugged. “I prefer darts.” - LOL i don’t even know, but i Knowwwwwwww

“Touch me with your big, strong, capable Naval aviator hands, Lieutenant Bradshaw, or I’ll – ”  - TEASE HIM! TAUNT HIM! MAKE FUN OF HIM!

“Right…” Bradley pauses. “Back seat?” - nah they gotta be knee deep in the passenger seat!

“But after a while, I realized I only got invited because I was a Gold Star kid. People felt sorry for me. Look at the sad kid with the dead dad. Made me feel like shit, you know? And now, I’m a Lieutenant. I might not’ve gone to the Academy like Hangman – ” - okay 1) yes i completely agree with this and am absolutely guilty of not bringing up bradley being a gold star kid enough because that is Really Big in the military! and 2) THE HANGMAN NAME DROP!

He is well-practiced, probably from doing this before.  - yeah with me last week

“Eating me out in the backseat of your car when I already agreed to have sex with you?” “Can’t decide if you’re a gentleman or a slut.” - oh my GODDDDDDDD HE IS BOTH!!! he’s such a slut (affectionate)

A suspiciously long pause, and Nora feels the elastic pull tight against her thigh. “Rip my underwear,” Nora threatens, one hand grabbing at his hair in warning, “and I’m getting out of this car.” - pls this actually made me laugh out loud. and then when she checks the time!?!! i just love the tone and tenor that you’ve struck with them? obviously i don’t know too much of BIHO since…you know, blond man? but i just like the ease in which they act with each other? it’s very light? but also they Get Each Other and seem to let each other be light? if that makes sense?

“If I’m such a slut,” Bradley whispers against her throat, nosing under her chin to get her to tilt her head back further, “what does that make you, huh?” She smirks. “Charitable.” - she GAGGED HIM PLSSSSS

knee deep in the passenger seat

synopsis: nora and bradley meet again that one time. set five-ish years before baby, i’m high octane.

pairing: bradley bradshaw x nora rogers (oc)

warnings: 18+, minors and ageless blogs dni, explicit language, explicit sexual content (oral sex, semi-public sex), slight age gap (six years), alcohol consumption, vomiting. rooster is slutty (affectionate) and also, a little sad. (wc: 5.4K)

note: i wrote this in october 2022 and just never posted it anywhere lol 💙 but since it's alexa's birthday, i'm opening the vault for her special day. happy birthday, alexa, you're nora's biggest fan except for me!

tags: @theharddeck @bradshawsbitch @hangmanbrainrot @startrekfangirl2233 @kandierteveilchen @lostinwonderland314 @hangmanscoming @t-nd-rfoot @sometimesanalice @dempy @mlibbydp @bellaireland1981 @clancycucumber230 @kmc1989 @averagereader35 @eli2447 @filmflux @bethbunnyy @callsignspark @kajjaka @roosterbruiser @djs8891 @gretagerwigsmuse

An orange September moon is barely visible in the darkness, and Nora has probably overdone it.

Things… could be worse, she reasons, maybe not much worse but still.

No one’s in immediate danger of passing out in the crunch of early autumn leaves or worse, peeing on the side of the deserted middle-of-nowhere road and getting slapped in the face with a public intoxication fine. 

She’s seen worse, probably been worse. 

However, Nora must admit that on a scale of unshakable steel to blow-up man outside of a small town car dealership, she is starting to feel a bit like a day-old helium balloon with a pin-hole leak; limbs bending and sagging and dragging in strange ways. 

Nothing sounds more appealing that crumpling in a pile of sparkles and limbs until Aunt Charlie comes out to scrape her from the damp pavement and drag her home. 

Also, she might puke.

That all depends on how the last shot of Tito’s lands in her stomach and given that Nora can smell rubbing alcohol in her nostrils with every hiccuping breath, she doesn’t love her chances. 

How did you get here, Rogers? You’re a grown 24 year-old woman. 

She ponders, contemplates, does all of those good and meditative action verbs. 

She spent four whole years watching the future Academy Award winners and nepotism babies of the world do lines off a dirty bathroom counter in a shoebox Greenwich apartment. An small close-friends-and-family-members-only retirement party for a renowned Naval Caption should’ve been a breeze.

She’s an adult now. Mostly.

She is smart and more than capable and – 

“An absolute sucker for an open bar,” Nora finishes out loud and with an irritated exhale, shakes a sharp piece of gravel loose from her heel, reflecting on her earlier decision to match a six-foot-something Naval aviator drink-for-drink, shot-for-shot. Idiot. 

Who cares if said Naval aviator looked like an abandoned puppy all alone at the pool table, all big brown eyes and broad shoulders, looking all…  sexy and wounded and sad.

She should’ve known better. She does. 

Over her shoulder, Nora aims a glare at Bradley Bradshaw, who in that moment, wobbles around a No Parking sign, loses his balance, and overcorrects so sharply that he almost ends up flat on his ass in the road. 

They’re a pair of idiots, then. 

And Nora really can’t assign out all of the blame.

No one forced her to order that one drink too many that pushed her over the edge… and the one after that. 

No one held her mouth open and poured the shots down her throat.

Although…

She does have a distinct memory of when Bradley caught one of her wrists in a hand large enough to hold both of them and gently bumped the rim of the souvenir shot glass against her bottom lip until Nora smiled and opened her mouth for him, which will probably make her blush in the morning.

She reasons that Bradley can be shoulder a little bit of the blame. He does have the shoulders for it. 

Since Bradley is also providing her only reprieve for the night – a safe haven, far from the oldies music and probing Is being a filmmaker really a career nowadays? questions –  Nora has already forgiven him in her mind.

Cars are parked all along the side of the road, late arrivals and overflow who couldn’t squeeze in the small parking lot in front of the dive, and as Nora weaves between the Go Navy! and Proud Veteran bumper stickers, a faded blue Bronco appears in the not-so-far distance, shining in the sparse moonlight like a beacon.

A beacon of hope… and air conditioning. 

She looks over her shoulder again to confirm that Bradley hasn’t collapsed and is still making good progress. He is swaying a little, like an anchored boat on a passing wake, but seems generally fine.

She makes a run for it. 

Under her feet, the grass is still wet from a recent storm and slippery, but Nora only slips twice. And after the second time almost causes her to lose a heel in the waterlogged ground, she goes barefoot for the last stretch, heels dangling from a bent finger, shimmering in the blue darkness like miniature disco balls. 

A beep-beep echoes across the humid air, damp enough to feel like a cloying fog, as Bradley unlocks the Bronco, and Nora calls, “Shotgun!” over her shoulder and smiling vaguely at the disembodied laugh that comes from the darkness, all but sags onto the seat.

She resists the urge to curl up like a cat and doze, like the Bronco has a built-in memory foam mattress and not a not even that comfortable brown leather bench seat. 

She leans back, relaxed, and lets everything slip from her slightly sweat-damp grip, dropping her purse and shoes, not bothering to check where anything ends up. She’ll worry about it later.

Right now, Nora is just grateful to sit a seat with a back for once.  

A door opens, and Nora cracks one eye open for pure self-preservation, checking to make sure it is Bradley and not some sort of Friday the 13th slasher. 

“I was promised AC,” Nora complains, pushing damp strands of pale blonde from her sweaty forehead, cursing her decision to ever get bangs and also not to grow them out in the colder months. 

“Give me a second, Rogers.” 

But Bradley almost immediately reaches over and cranks the ignition.

Cool air blasts from the vents, and Nora could actually cry.

Basking, Nora doesn’t pay attention as Bradley rustles around outside, shrugging off his suit jacket and tossing it into the back, and hauls himself one-handed into the front. She’s serene and blessedly, rapidly cooling down. 

For a moment, Nora and Bradley are both silent, simply luxuriating. 

She’s the one to break the silence.

“God, I think I want to marry the person who invented modern air conditioning… or like, offer them  mind-blowing sex.” 

“Want to have sex?” 

 “No, I said – ” 

“No, I heard you.” His grin gleams in the greenish light from the radio, turned all the way down on some local station. “My question wasn’t related. Mind-blowing?” 

She blinks in his general direction, and in the dim glow, Nora can make him out well enough. His white dress shirt is gone, probably in the back with his jacket, leaving him in an undershirt that is straining over his slightly sunburned biceps. 

He looks perfectly casual.

Like Bradley’s asked to grab some drunk food.

“Rewind. Did you just ask me to have sex with you like…?” Nora wracks her brain for an apt comparison. “Like, we ran into each other at a coffee shop and you’re asking if I want to share a table with you? We’re both here, so might as well?” 

He chokes on a laugh, scrubbing a hand over the bottom half of his face to hide a shit-eating grin. Nora narrows her eyes, and Bradley makes an aggressive throat clearing noise.

“Yes.” 

A pause.

“No.”

Another longer pause.

“Is there a right answer to this question?” 

Jesus Christ. 

Nora exhales a disbelieving laugh. And then, entertains the idea. 

It isn’t a great one. For several reasons.

Reason 1: Aunt Charlie was good friends with Carole Bradshaw, which is the only reason Nora even knows him. Charlie watched him grow up and so, carries a certain fondness for him. 

A fondness that might be more than slightly tainted if lovable Bradley Bradshaw has sweaty and depraved sex with her niece in a parked car, outside of a retirement party where Charlie herself is currently in attendance. 

(He didn’t explicitly mention depraved, but Nora kind of gets that vibe from him.)

Reason 2: See above.

But… Nora considers, What if Charlie didn’t find out? What then?

He’s a good looking man, she can’t deny that. Humidity curls his hair around his ears, and Bradley’s got these puppy dog eyes that promise all kinds of trouble, a sharp edge of mirth underneath. 

He looks… good.

He’s what? Six years older than her? That’s nothing.

A guy like him… could probably snap her in half, all broad shoulders and massive arms. 

She’s always had a thing for arms.

And Nora hasn’t gotten laid in a while. She’s been busy, assisting and pitching and writing and running around Manhattan for drinks and meetings and interviews and – 

It’s a bad idea.

It’s not a good idea.

It’s… not the worst idea.

“Sure, yeah,” Nora finds herself saying. “We could have sex.” 

This all really started when Aunt Charlie got the invite in the mail a month ago.

As a former Top Gun instructor and current Department of Defense superstar, Charlie Blackwood got a lot of invites. She got invited to weddings, baby showers, medal ceremonies, and lately, lots and lots of retirement parties.

She declined most of them, but Nora knew Charlie had a soft spot for Top Gun graduates who’d been in her class and gone on to have long and prosperous careers with Naval Aviation. 

And when Mr. Charlotte Blackwood couldn’t make it to a party for one reason or another and Nora was free for the weekend, she was the designated back-up plus one.

An opportunity to get all dressed up for a night in some glamorous Washington D.C. ballroom, sipping free drinks and chatting up some silver fox Naval Admiral’s cute, much more age appropriate nephew? Sign her up.

She might not have been quite so eager if Charlie had told Nora earlier that Captain Leonard Wolfe had opted for a more... down-to-earth approach. 

It was a classic dive, raucous, intimate, and covered in a film of grease and grim that made Nora regard the slight cloudiness of the Dirty Shirley with suspicion. A free drink is a free drink. She shrugged and accepted the drink with a closed lip smile, plucking a cherry from the carbonation and popping it into her mouth. 

Chewing, Nora looked for a quick getaway and instead, found a familiar face.

Dressed in a respectable shirt and well-fitting slacks, golden from his latest deployment, Bradley Bradshaw was all alone next to the pool table, scraping chalk across the cue with a vacant expression, looking miles from here. 

Nora sidled over and leaned against the pool table. 

“Bradley Bradshaw,” Nora said coolly, mixing in the grenadine with a stirring straw and sipping from the end. Pure saccharine sweetness… and a very prominent aftertaste of bottom-shelf vodka. “Look at you in your dress shoes.” She playfully nudged the side of his shiny black shoe. “I haven’t seen you at one of these in a while. You been in hiding or just hiding from me?” 

He stiffened, ever so slightly, but Bradley inclined his head with a smile.

“Never, Rogers,” Bradley replied, holding his hand over his heart like an oath. “Who would hide from someone who looks as beautiful as you do in that dress?” His gaze might as well have been a caress, drinking in the silver of the dress. 

She did a small spin, even though Bradley didn’t ask, shimmering in the dim light of the dive bar like an errant disco ball, a shooting star that’s wandered down to the surface and gotten lost. 

“Just between us…” Nora leaned in. “I’m worried I’m a little overdressed.” 

His smile widened. “You definitely are. You kind of look like an asshole.” 

She gaped at him, and Bradley laughed at her surprised expression, but something about the sound was strangely hollow, a copy of a copy.

He sounded off, and Nora frowned.

“You okay?” Nora asked slowly, not wanting to cross a line or impose. He could’ve been waiting for someone when Nora came over. “I can leave you alone, go find some hot young Lieutenant who’ll fetch my drinks all night.”

She was rewarded with a small smile, and Bradley shook his head, almost too quickly. “Stay. Sorry, I’m just… I think I need another drink in me.” His gaze dropped. “You play pool?” 

She shrugged. “I prefer darts.” 

“Well, I don’t,” Bradley said simply, short and almost rude. He cushioned the words with a crooked grin, looking more like the Bradley Bradshaw that Nora knew. “Rack ‘em while I get us another round? What’re you drinking, darling?” 

“Dirty Shirley.” He made a pained face. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not coming over there and ordering it for you. A grown man like you can order a Dirty Shirley for a woman at a bar.”

“You might be scarier than my old CO.” And when Nora raised her brows, Bradley surrendered with open palms. “I’m going, I’m going.” 

His dark eyes shine with amusement as Bradley looks at Nora.

“Don’t pull a muscle with all that enthusiasm, darling.” 

She resists the urge to smack him. “You’re unbelievable.” 

“What?” And for his part, Bradley does look genuinely confused. 

“Oh my god, Bradley!” Nora groans, crossing her arms over her chest, which has the effect of dragging an already low neckline even lower. His eyes follow not so subtly. “You are the one who was like, Let’s have sex to kill time or whatever, and all of the sudden, I’m expected to what? Set the mood?” 

Her exasperation sweetens into something simpering and mocking, and Nora bats her lashes. “Touch me with your big, strong, capable Naval aviator hands, Lieutenant Bradshaw, or I’ll – ”  

Neither of them find out what Nora would do.

He slides across the seat in a heartbeat and swallows her words with an enthusiastic kiss, crowding her back against the window, warm against the bare skin exposed in the low back of the dress. 

Before Nora can do much more than pant into his mouth, Bradley is pulling her from the seat with his strong hands and sets her down in his lap, grasping her waist in a firm grip, holding her against him.

His shirt is soft to the touch, and Nora smooths her palms over his shoulders, over his arms, caught and confined in the fabric. Impatient, she pulls at the hem, and Bradley is more than happy to take the hint. 

Getting him out of the shirt probably would go a whole lot smoother if Bradley wasn’t so tall and Nora wasn’t so on top of him, but after some determined fumbling and awkward maneuvering – Bradley smacks the ceiling twice and nearly knocks her out of his lap once – he manages to wrestle it onto the dash, cursing the whole way there.

Nora giggles. 

She’s still giggling when Bradley catches her chin, gaze warm with mirth and want, and pulls her into another long and slightly sloppy kiss. He is hard underneath her, and Nora feels lighter than air with a hand on the back of his neck, making encouraging sounds against his mouth.

He reaches under the dress, skimming a rough palm over the back of her exposed thigh, and Nora pulls back.

“Hold on,” she says, breathless.

She nods pointedly at the windshield.

He needs a second to catch up. 

“It’s dark out,” Bradley reassures, smoothing his thumb up and down the side of her neck. “And I parked down the street. No one’s gonna see.” 

Fingers curl around her thigh, easing her back down on his – 

She shakes her head, firm and unmoving. “Someone could have their flashlight on on their way to their car. And if Charlie has to hear about this from some drunk Admiral, I will die of embarrassment and bring you down with me.” A cool smirk. “What else’ve you got for me, Bradshaw?” 

“Right…” Bradley pauses. “Back seat?” 

They’d only made it through a few games before some older Naval officers – around the same age as Captain Wolfe – claimed the next one, but by then, Nora and Bradley were already several drinks in. 

Having an open bar meant that drinks became both a prize and a forfeit. 

She went in search of water – because, yeah, wow – while Bradley slumped on the nearest stool and watched the older Naval aviators set up their game.

And when Nora returned, waters in hand, Bradley had that same look on his face, a strange forlorn expression.

He glanced over as Nora sat down, and asked suddenly, “Wanna know why I stopped going to these?”

Honestly, all Nora really wanted was to drink some water and maybe check to see if the kitchen serves nachos and not puke tonight. 

She gulped down most of the water in one long pull and wiped the back of her across her mouth, probably smearing lip gloss all across her chin and mouth. It was all she could do not to let out of undignified cough. 

Another glass sat between them, but Bradley didn’t move to pick it up.

Sensing that Bradley was waiting for an answer, Nora offered a quick, “Sure, Bradshaw,” and slowly pushed at the water glass, feeling a little like a cat about to push it from the surface, until Bradley’s hand closed around it.

Between the music and the loud buzz of conversation, Bradley’s sigh was barely audible. He started, slowly, ��Mom and I used to get invited to shit like this all the time when I was a kid, and starting out, I loved it. It was cool, getting to be around all these cool older guys who’re actual fighter pilots and have so many cool stories. It wasn’t really my mom’s scene – not without my dad, but I’d go with…” 

A pained expression flashed across his face, a mixture of anger and hatred and hurt, raw and deep and jagged, and Nora could fill in the blanks. 

He’d gone with Maverick. 

He continued, “But after a while, I realized I only got invited because I was a Gold Star kid. People felt sorry for me. Look at the sad kid with the dead dad. Made me feel like shit, you know? And now, I’m a Lieutenant. I might not’ve gone to the Academy like Hangman – ” 

He spat out the name with such venom that Nora’s lips parted automatically to ask who that was, but Bradley was on a roll now. 

“But I ended up in the same damn place as them. I’ve earned my spot.” 

An abrupt belch jolted him, and Bradley drained the water in a long continuous swallow that made Nora raise her eyebrows. 

“Guys like them,” Bradley nodded at the men who were now in the middle of nine ball game, gaze unfocused. “Guys like Wolfman look at me, and it’s like they’re looking at a fucking ghost. It’s almost worse.” His voice broke ever so slightly.

She pretended not to notice, sparing him, and Nora rubbed at a pinched spot in her chest.

She used to love it when she was younger, preening at every you look so much like your mom, scouring the scrapbooks and seeing a familiar smile on a face that wasn’t her own on the wrinkled pages. 

After Mom died, Nora kind of hated her own reflection, hated the uncanny feeling that someone was looking at her and not seeing her but a copy of a copy of someone else. 

She’s made peace with it since then. Eventually. 

And in a less inebriated state, Nora might’ve been able to articulate something, anything that might be a half-decent bit of wisdom, paraphrased from years and years of painful self-awareness and therapy. 

Right now, all Nora could do was reach for his nearest shoulder and give him a good solid poke, all muscle, and say, all gentleness, “You don’t feel like a ghost to me, Bradshaw.” 

Smiling sadly, Nora eased back, but Bradley caught her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, a silent thank you that couldn’t push through the emotion swimming in his sad eyes. 

A beat passed.

And Bradley stood abruptly, nearly knocking his stool over. 

“You want to do a shot? Wolfman’s buying.”  

When Nora nods, Bradley springs into action.

Guiding Nora over the seat, a careful hand resting on the nape of her neck to keep her from hitting the ceiling. Stepping out, then back in because Bradley is far too tall and wide to clamber over the bench. 

He is well-practiced, probably from doing this before.  

She is alone for a split second, bathed in the sound of the chirping crickets and her own shallow breaths. Fabric brushes against her back, resting on something that might be his shirt. 

Bradley pops the door open and is on her again, quick as lightning, and Nora doesn’t care anymore. She welcomes the weight of him, the press of his torso against hers, the hunger in his grasping hands. 

He’s a damn good kisser, coaxing her lips open and slipping his tongue into her mouth again, nipping at her bottom lip. He cups her face with large hands, scraping a thumb across her pulse point, and Nora sinks lower and lower into the heat, all fuzzy around the edges from alcohol and him. 

All she can think is more more more, now now now, and Bradley reads her mind. 

He breaks from the kiss, abruptly dropping his mouth to her shoulder and pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the freckle there. He sounds half-asleep, voice low and thick with desire. 

Bradley mutters, “Sit up,” against her throat and slides onto his knees. 

That can’t be comfortable, Nora thinks absently. He is super tall, which also means long legs, and as spacious as the Bronco is – 

Nora lets out an embarrassing half-shriek when Bradley tugs her forward without warning, hooking her knees over his shoulders, settling between her parted thighs with a grin. 

She is still wearing her dress, rustling and glittering in the inky darkness with every breath, but Bradley doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to get her naked. 

“Eating me out in the backseat of your car when I already agreed to have sex with you?” Nora jokes, a little breathless, a little embarrassed by that. Warmth flutters in the pit of her stomach at her own words, at the implication of it. Has it really been that long? “Can’t decide if you’re a gentleman or a slut.” 

Teeth gleam in the dark, and Bradley sucks a bruise into the inside of her thigh, blowing a cool breath over the spot. She holds back a shiver. 

“Who said I’m down here to eat you out? Kinda presumptuous of you, Rogers.” 

She rolls her eyes and smacks at his shoulder, catching the broad edge with an open palm. It probably hurts her more than him, and Bradley shakes with restrained laughter, which only makes her want to smack him again. Makes her want to tell him to get up or get on with it sometime tonight.  

She has a comeback, a good one, but Bradley doesn’t even give her the chance to get it out. He leans in and presses his mouth between her thighs, running his tongue against the seam of her through the underwear. 

Nora lets out something between a cough and a gasp, throwing her head back against the seat, arching into him. She might’ve choked on the breath, had anything still remained in her lungs to choke on. 

Everything flees the moment that Bradley finds the growing wet spot in the center of the fabric with his tongue. It’s barely anything, a tease, and yet, Nora is already quivering in his arms. 

“You okay up there?” 

His voice is unbearably smug, and Nora is having a little trouble remembering that really great comeback from earlier.

“It’s been… I’ve been… Shut the fuck up.” 

Hot breath ghosts across the damp strip of fabric as Bradley laughs, and on instinct, Nora jolts away from him. He keeps her there with a flex of his biceps, reaching up to tap a placating palm against her stomach, then down to find the edge of her underwear. 

He shimmies them halfway down her thighs, then realizes the obvious issue with this plan. It’ll be impossible to get them off in this position. There isn’t enough room. 

A suspiciously long pause, and Nora feels the elastic pull tight against her thigh.

“Rip my underwear,” Nora threatens, one hand grabbing at his hair in warning, “and I’m getting out of this car.”

“S’not what I was doing,” Bradley insists, almost petulant, but instantly, Nora feels the pressure ease. 

Curls brush the sensitive skin of her inner thighs as Bradley ducks back into position, abandoning her underwear around her knees. He winds his arms back around her legs, flexing his muscles, and with a bend of his wrist, skims through the wetness there, brushing against her clit with his thumb.

“Fuck,” Bradley swears. “You’re so wet.” 

And in hindsight, maybe Nora spent too much time wondering about the slight possibility that Charlie could find out about this and not enough time worrying about the very real possibility that Charlie would probably call Bradley a well-mannered young man in the future, and Nora would have to look her in the eye. 

When did Charlie want to leave again?

Nora cranes her neck, aiming for casual and can almost see the…

“Are you trying to check the time right now?” 

Fuck. She shuts her eyes tight.

“What? No. Do you always talk this much?” 

He must realize that Nora was, in fact, trying to check the time because Bradley dives back in without hesitation – and without mercy, licking a long stripe up her cunt and easing his middle finger into her at the same time. He licks her again, tongue flat and searching, spreading her open, circling her clit with sloppy enthusiasm. 

“Oh my god,” Nora murmurs breathlessly, winding her fingers tighter in his hair, starting to tremble around him. “Bradley.” 

It’s the most uncomfortable position. Her legs burn, bent awkwardly over his too-big shoulders, and Nora can feel the muscles straining, threatening to cramp and spasm, but Bradley is eating her out with abandon. 

And Nora is so so close. It’s dizzying. 

“What do you need?” Bradley asks, raising his head, mouth slick with saliva and her, eyes bright. “You need me to…” 

She shushes him impatiently, and Bradley laughs. 

He sinks back down, running his tongue back and forth in a pattern that makes her see stars, and Nora is gone, coming with a gasping moan. 

She goes boneless in the aftermath, slumping sideways on the seat, leaving Bradley to maneuver out of the trap of her legs and underwear without any help. He manages well enough, keeping the quiet cursing to a minimum as Nora stares at the ceiling and catches her breath. 

He reaches into the front seat, popping open the glove compartment and rustling around. She closes her eyes, reopening them when Bradley tugs her panties all the way off her legs, now with the room to do so. He tosses the fabric to the side, banishing them to the same bottomless pit as her heels. 

“You decide yet?” Bradley asks. He wipes at his wet mouth with the back of his forearm, setting down his hand right next to her head and leaning in, and Nora can see the slight tremble to the muscle. 

“I already said I’d have sex with you, asshole. Give me a second.” 

He barks a laugh. “Not that. The other thing. Am I gentleman or a slut?” 

“Hmmm…” Nora spies the square of plastic clutched in his fist, narrowing her eyes in the dark to make it out. Her voice is a little hoarse. She could use another glass of water right about now. “Do you keep a box of condoms in your glove compartment?” 

“Always good to be prepared.” 

“Slut. Hands down.” 

His amused exhale warms her neck as Bradley nudges her head to the side, pressing kisses in a path down her exposed throat. He pauses for too long again, as if considering the risk and reward of sucking a bruise into her skin, and Nora digs her nails into his bicep in warning. 

“If I’m such a slut,” Bradley whispers against her throat, nosing under her chin to get her to tilt her head back further, “what does that make you, huh?” 

She smirks. “Charitable.” 

He freezes in place, breath puffing against her neck, and Nora has to hold back her laugh.

Bradley spots the wide grin on her face, the mischief dancing in her blue eyes, and laughs. Low, in a way that promises retribution. “Charitable… Fuck you, Rogers.” 

“Well, yeah. Did I come all the way back here for nothing?” 

He shakes his head, laughing under his breath, and unbuckles his belt, freeing himself from his boxers to slip the condom on. 

“Wait,” Nora says, tapping at his shoulder. He freezes in place. “My neck is cramping. Let me get on top.” 

Nora sinks down on him, head dropping back at the sensation. 

Time blurs from there, a languid hue of stuttered breaths and soft, drawn-out moans and murmured words. Her dress is pooled around her waist, and Bradley turns his attention to her breasts, first with his fingers, then with his mouth.

She alternates between grasping the head rest and the strong line of his shoulder, rocking down on him. 

“You feel so good, so fucking good,” Bradley moans. somewhere in the middle, brushing sweat-dampened strands out of her face. “Does that feel good?” He presses an open-mouthed kiss to the curve of her shoulder, then behind her ear, licks a long stripe across her skin. 

Half-drowned in sensation, Nora can do nothing but nod, slack-jawed, giving her answers in the form of kisses pressed to the underside of his jaw, fingernails lightly scraping across his bulging forearms. And in the interlacing of her fingers between his, right at the end, when Nora comes undone again and Bradley follows her over the edge, spilling into the condom. 

He pulls out, sprawling across the back seat, and Nora follows him down, resting her head in the crook of his arm. They are still breathing heavily, coming down from their highs when Nora’s stomach gives a twisted pinch.

“What’d you think? Better than someone getting a drink for you?” 

“I think I’m gonna throw up.” 

“Well… You seemed to be enjoying yourself a minute ago.”

“No, Bradley,” Nora says, sitting upright, which makes her vision cartwheel. “The Tito’s.” 

His eyes grow wide in understanding, and Bradley flings the door open, just in time for Nora to lean out and vomit over the side of the Bronco. His loud laugh is cut short, and then Nora hears a stuttered “Oh god,” and the unmistakable sound of the other door opening and liquid hitting the pavement. 

And as Nora pulls up the straps of her dress and wiped her mouth, she spots her shoe under the passenger’s side seat. “You know, Bradley.” She leans forward and fishes it out, holding it up to the light. “I think I should probably stop going to these parties too.” 

He offers her a thumbs-up over his shoulder, then throws up again. 

Later, once Nora has cleaned up and tugged her clothes back into place and accepted the plastic water bottle that Bradley tracked down in the trunk, she sits on the back bumper of Aunt Charlie’s car and waits.

She is smoking a drunk cigarette, bummed from an older Naval Admiral who was standing outside the bar, and watching the moon when Charlie wanders out of the party, not even a lipstick smudge out of place. 

“Where did you run off to tonight?” Charlie asks on the drive home, and as soon as Nora starts to tell her the abridged truth, that she was with Bradley, Charlie adds, “And before you answer, I do feel inclined to point out the huge hickey on your neck.” 

Nora screw her eyes shut. Goddammit Bradley.

“Now I don’t think I should answer that question.” 

Charlie sighs. “You’re an adult, Nora, and I know I can’t really say anything without sounding like a hypocrite after Pete, but please don’t start dating someone I used to teach.” 

Nora exhales a laugh, leaning her forehead against the cool glass of the window, fogging with her breath. Her gaze is skyward, unfocused, watching the stars blink and out of existence between the clouds. 

After a moment, Nora says, “Since I have no plans to date a Naval aviator, I think I’m safe. No danger there.” 

Her phone buzzes against her leg. 

Bradley Bradshaw: Always a pleasure, Rogers ;)

Bradley Bradshaw: Don’t be a stranger.

Nora holds her phone tight in her hand and tries not to smile. 

end note: i don't know how many biho readers actually care about bradley and nora, but i love the context that this one shot gives to their friendship, so i hope you did as too! 🩵 likes are always appreciated, but comments and reblogs make my whole day. i love hearing from y'all.

read the series

[4giorno]

the lantern rite final cutscene im sobbing

[writer-in-theory]

Me and You, & Your Uncle Wayne — part two.

Summary: Eddie tells his Uncle Wayne about him and Steve. Pairing: Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson Content Warnings: Period-Typical Homophobia Read on Ao3 Part One || Part Three Masterlist

-

It takes a week for Wayne to meet Steve Harrington for the first time.

He's at Melvald's, trying to pick up a few things they needed for dinner and the lightbulbs Eddie keeps reminding him to find. It was supposed to be a quick trip, but then he sees the source of all his anxieties himself. Joyce Byers is struggling with a box from the backroom when Steve Harrington walks into the store, and the boy doesn't even hesitate before he's jogging over and lifting the box out of her hands, even nodding for her to add a couple others to the load. Where Robert Harrington was all cruel smirks and judging eyes, Steve appears to be wide smiles and soft looks, hair falling in his face messily as he nods emphatically at whatever Joyce was saying.

Wayne Munson generally likes to keep to himself. He's not one to pry into anyone's business, and certainly not in this town. But he finds himself moving to the aisle closest to the pair, busying himself looking at garbage bags and little plastic storage bags he doesn't need so he can hear better.

"Will just keeps asking when the two of you can go on another college tour. I don't know what you told him but he seems excited again," Joyce was telling Steve. Wayne knew Will Byers, had heard of the kid who'd gone missing for weeks only to appear alive and well even after finding a body. He remembers all too well the days he and Eddie joined the search party, desperate to find the kid that everyone thought had been taken by his deadbeat dad. The whole time Wayne couldn't help but think that, just a few years ago, that could've been his own boy they gathered search parties for. Will Byers was a handful of years younger than Steve, and as far as Wayne was aware there wasn't a familial connection to link the pair. It didn't make sense for the guy to be driving Will out to college campuses, not when there surely had to be anyone better for the job.

Steve shrugged, setting down the boxes and beginning to unload one of them. "Nothing special. We played catch on the lawn of Purdue, talked."

"It's special to me, Steve. It really has Will excited to graduate again. Johnathan and I have tried to hard to get through to him, so thank you." The pair continued to chat, but Wayne was struck by the oddity of the encounter. Steve, the rough kid who bullied others and shoved his daddy's money in everyone's faces was driving the Byers kid to college campuses and playing catch to make him feel better about the upcoming change—and it didn't make sense, not really.

But maybe it did make a little more sense, after all. Because Eddie was a good kid with a heart of gold, he wouldn't have fallen for mean stares and harsh words. He wouldn't have been drawn in by the promise of money and a distant husband, he would have fallen for this—Steve, taking time out of his day to help Joyce Byers, spending his weekends comforting a scared kid he had no obligation to. Eddie would have fallen for the kindness.

Wayne is struck by it again in the parking lot. He thought Steve had already left, but the kid was leaning against Wayne's car when he exits the shop. "What can i do for you, kid?" he asks, trying to shove as much as he could into those words. He hadn't seen much of Eddie that week, and what he did was pure shut-out. He couldn't get two words in to prove that this was a misunderstanding, that there was no reality in which Wayne didn't accept and love his nephew, his son, as he was.

"I know it's hard to think about," Steve began, arms crossed and eyes turned to look to the side instead of at Wayne. "That whatever life you had thought up for Eddie isn't possible, with me," Steve continued, voice lowering at the last two words though there was no one else around to pick them up. "But please try. This is crushing him, having to pick between me and you. I don't want to be the reason he loses you, so if you can't get the idea of him being...you know, then I'll step back. Just please, don't kick him out."

"I'm not above kicking your ass if you do that," Wayne found himself saying, huffing out a laugh at the deer in headlights look Steve gave him. "There's no pickin' between us, son."

"I don't—I'm—what?" the Harrington boy forced out, looking as confused as Wayne had ever seen a person. And just standing there looking at him Wayne has himself wondering how he'd ever doubted Eddie's thought process here. Because sure, Steve was the spitting image of his father—big hazel eyes and that Harrington nose Robert used to brag about, a letterman tossed over whatever he was wearing because Wayne wasn't sure there was ever a time when a Harrington wasn't on all the varsity teams. But the way the kid stood now, unafraid to be seen with someone who lived in the trailer park on the edge of town, entire expression soft in a way he's sure Robert's had never been as he begged Wayne to please just never stop loving Eddie, Wayne wondered if Steve was related to Robert at all.

"Let me get one thing straight, there is nothin' that boy can do to lose me," Wayne got out, shaking his head and sniffing to cover up the slight waver in his voice now. Because Eddie was hurting, and he didn't know how long he'd been hurting wondering how Wayne would react to any of this. Then he'd gone and said the wrong thing, and now he had Steve Harrington of all people asking him to do better. "Nothing. You hear me?"

Steve nodded slowly, but there was no sense of clarity washing over his face yet.

"You know this town better'n anyone, son," Wayne tried again, hoping to get the point across without having to say it out loud. "What d'you think they'd do to my boy if they found out who he loved. Better yet, what would they do if they found out he'd 'corrupted' the Harrington boy?"

"He didn't corru—"

"You know that. I know that. But d'you really think they give a shit? They've been waiting for an excuse to get rid of him from the day we moved back here." Wayne took a step forward then, nodding when Steve finally moved away from his car. "I've never cared what Eddie does as long he's happy. But I do care about you doin' anything that'll hurt him."

"I won't," Steve protested quickly, forcing eye contact to prove just how much he meant what he said. "We've been through so m—I won't ever hurt him, Mr. Munson. I can promise you that."

Wayne watched the boy for a moment, trying to see if there was any hint of the guy who threw insulting slurs around like they were nothing. Instead all he saw was that fierce love he'd always wanted for Eddie, he saw someone who was ready to protect Eddie in the way the kid always deserved. And sure, Wayne would have never guessed Eddie would have ever picked Steve Harrington, but he supposed he understood why now.

"It's Wayne," he corrected simply, raising a brow as Steve nodded and started walking away. "Hey, if you're comin' to dinner you might's well hop in," he offered, nodding back to his own car.

"I'm coming to dinner?"

"You are now. Eddie can introduce his boyfriend properly."

-

tagging some people who interacted with part one (sorry if this bothers anyone!): @jbnfo @tsukiwashere @innocentbi-stander @r1ver-6 @2btheanswertothequestion @sapphirecobalt-1 @justice-for-eddie-munson @absentlurker @route1961