#so sad so many people want to call it bad

[loop-temporale]

tag precedenti:

MMMMMM, life said You Will Not Fuck Up. You Have No Other Choice., god. god imagine this being like. some kid's power. imagine this from birth., at first it's very very easy. babies can't fuck things up. toddlers can't fuck things up., even little kids can't really do much to change how their day goes, every day is a ''perfect'' day when you're very very new to life and have very little power to change anything, it starts slowly, maybe a day or two at a time when they're starting school, and who knows what perfect is defined as, but you have a fight with a friend? reset., and at first even that doesn't take many tries to fix, children are flexible!, and it's like they just had a bad dream and are sad about it in the morning, and then of course. it just gets worse., you've lived lifetimes by the time you're in high school., maybe you're hailed as a prodegy - and you can't tell anyone that you're just cheating, (you've tried to tell people about the loops. it never helps. so now you don't.), or maybe the definition of perfect allows for you to pretend to be normal, maybe it focuses more on personal relationships then it does on achievments, though of course you're still not allowed to fail., your parents are praised for having such a well-behaved child; you don't say anything, you've tried to act out in every single way you could think of, it doesn't do anything so now you don't do it., you get better and better at predicting what the loop wants from you, you don't have to go through every day as many times, but. still. it weighs., people call you an old soul., they have no idea how true it is.

A classic time loop that you break by doing the day perfectly, only the time loops don't stop. You live an entire life spending years perfecting each day one at a time. By the time you reach your deathbed, you've lived the perfect life, by all accounts but your own.

holy shit

[dreamwatch]

Part 1 Part 2

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest Black Friday pop-up event.

Prompts: Black, Friday, "I'm not standing in line for that", Leftovers, Trampled, One Day Only, "I am giving thanks."

Yeah... all of them, and you're right, it was a stupid idea.

Word Count: Pt3 - 4954 | Rating: M | CW: Past suicidal ideation (very subtle, blink and you'll miss, I'm just being cautious) | POV: Mixed - Pt1 Eddie, Pt2 Steve, Pt3 Eddie | Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson | Tags: Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, Gareth CC, Jeff CC, Matt CC, Wayne Munson, disabled Eddie Munson, pining, protective Gareth, protective Steve, kissing, guitars, reference to canon typical injuries, references to blood and injury - please let me know if you think I've missed any.

Part 3

For the first time in years they get lucky; Wayne gets Christmas off. He says it’s because he worked Thanksgiving, but Eddie overheard phone calls that maybe he shouldn’t have been listening to, and he has a suspicion it’s more to do with the fact that for a while there Wayne was facing all his future Christmas’s alone and this one’s kind of special.

They’re watching the TV, eating too much, and sipping on beers. It’s normal. Just regular Christmas Eve in the Munson home, but the weight of it, the what ifs, hang in the air. It’s not oppressive, or sad, it’s just … there. It should be a sign, probably, that he and Wayne need to have a good talk, maybe work through a few things. But Wayne isn’t a talker, doesn’t understand why anyone would go to a shrink, he buries his shit deep. When Eddie thinks of his father, he was much the same. It probably shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone, then, that Eddie likes to keep things locked away, hidden from public view.

He sips on his beer and he eats his cookies, and he smiles at Wayne and Wayne smiles back. They know what they have. It’s enough.

They don’t get visitors often and he can’t think of a single Christmas where they’ve had one that wasn’t a cop, so when they hear the knock at the door they both look at each other like deer in the headlights. The bad knocks, the ones that end up with shit on the doorstep, or notes on the door telling him to move away if he knows what’s good for him, they don’t come as often as they used to. The last one was around Halloween, which in some regards he kind of expected; every town has a boogeyman and sadly he’s it for Hawkins. They keep a baseball bat behind the door where most people store their umbrellas. 

Wayne answers the door, fist twitching, but then Steve is wandering into his home, flakes of snow on his eyelashes and in his hair. 

“Hey sorry, I didn’t want to disturb you, I just wanted to give you these.”

He hands over two badly wrapped gifts, something bottle shaped for Wayne who seems a little shellshocked at getting anything, and a small navy blue package for Eddie, with way too much tape holding it together. And he knows gifts aren’t a quid pro quo kind of situation, but he’s honestly been back to back with appointments and just life in general, and he doesn’t get out as much as he would like, seeing as he still can’t drive, so his heart sinks a little at it.

“Shit, I didn’t— sorry, I was just so caught up—”

“It’s nothing. Honestly, it’s just something I saw that reminded me of you.” 

His voice peters out as he says it, and Eddie feels that little kick, the little squeeze in his core, but he just can’t help it. Reminded me of you. Like he’s important enough for Steve to think about. And isn’t that something?

Reminded me of you.

It’s a little fan, breathing life onto a flame that he just can’t afford to have lit any further. Tamping it down is getting harder and harder.

They talk for a few minutes, but it doesn’t matter how many cookies or beers or sodas Wayne offers him, he declines them all with a sorry, got to get back. He gets up to leave and Eddie walks him to the door.

“What are you doing on Friday?” Steve asks.

“Hmm, I’ll have to check with my secretary, my diary gets booked up so far in advance these days.”

“He ain’t doin’ nothin’!” Wayne shouts. “And close the goddamn door, you’re letting all the heat out.”

“Jesus Christ, old man, keep it down. No fucking privacy here. Well, as you heard, I ain’t doin’ nothin’ apparently.”

It’s a pretty accurate impression, which he knows Wayne heard and he’ll be paying for that for a while. But he made Steve laugh, so it’s entirely worth it.

“Cool. I’ll pick you up at four, be dressed and ready to go.” Steve hops down the porch steps back to the car. 

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll find out on Friday. Get inside before you freeze to death, Munson. Merry Christmas!”

“I’m going, I’m going, why is everyone such a nag? Merry Christmas, Steve!”

He should wait until tomorrow, but the little blue package in his hand feels like it’s burning him. He sits on his bed and tries his best to peel each piece of tape carefully, but the fucking thing is covered in it so he ends up ripping the paper off anyway. 

The guitar strap is neatly folded, blue embroidery singing against the black leather. Guitar picks slip onto the floor at his feet. 

His breath falters, trapped in his throat, and it’s several long seconds before he takes a deep breath again.

His guitars were some of the only things saved from the old trailer. Wayne told him how lucky he was to be at the back, how most of his precious possessions survived. He even hung the Warlock on the wall of his new bedroom. It felt like he was being watched, like an eye following him around the room. It felt like a living thing in a way that scared him. 

And it wasn’t just the thing of it, the object that got carried into battle - even if that one was a version from another world - it was the way it sounded in his hands now. He tried to play it just once, and once was enough to know it would never happen again. The shake in his hand was frightening, the lack of control, the dissonant noises that rang from it. He chalked it up to some weird phobia, a reaction to what the guitar meant now. But then he picked up his old Fender knock off and it wasn’t any better, and it hit him that it was gone, everything he had practiced, everything he worked for, it was gone just like that. Now he had a shaky left hand and no grip strength and moving his fingers along the fretboard was an effort not an instinct.

It was over. And he never wanted to see that fucking guitar again.

But now he’s sitting here with a beautiful guitar strap in his lap and guitar picks all over the floor, things that Steve chose for him, because they reminded me of you, and it’s painful in a different way, in a way that he can’t examine right now because he just doesn’t have the strength for it in the middle of a Christmas he was never meant to see. He wraps them both back up in the crumpled blue paper and puts them in the bottom drawer of his dresser, pulling a pair of sweats over the top.

Christmas is… emotional. But like in that quiet ‘we’re not gonna talk about it’ way that he and Wayne have perfected over the years. There are pats on the head, hair ruffles, side ways glances when Wayne thinks he’s not looking. Weighty, but not unpleasant. It’s a lot to know you’re loved so deeply, a lot to know how difficult this would have been for Wayne if Eddie hadn’t been here.

(There’s things about that day, about the decisions he made, that he tries to keep hidden from everyone, himself included when he can manage it. They haunt him at night when he’s alone in the house by himself and has time to dwell on them, but when Wayne rests a calloused hand on his head, it’s almost like forgiveness. He hopes Wayne doesn’t know. He hopes none of them know.)

When Friday swings around he feels entirely too much like a kid in a candy store, and if Wayne notices his slightly hyper demeanour when Steve pulls up outside, he at least has the grace not to mention it. 

Steve doesn’t open the car door for him. Anyone looking on, watching Eddie potter down his steps unevenly, crutch in hand, would read that as rude. Eddie reads it as trust, as being listened to, and most importantly being heard. Other people struggled with that, so many of his friends, fuck, even Wayne, wanting to step in whenever they thought he needed a hand, but never really hearing him when he said he was fine. And look, he’s a stubborn fuck, he knows this, and he hasn’t made this easy on people, he could have - should have - asked for help at times, but having one person in his corner that listened to him made him feel less powerless. That it was Steve made his heart sing.

Steve still won’t tell him where he’s going, so they do what they usually do, argue over the radio while Eddie tosses tapes around in the glove compartment. Eddie doesn’t get out often, mostly of his own choosing, so these moments mean a lot to him. Painfully normal. 

Painfully normal with Steve by his side.

He starts to nod off to the sound of Cyndi Lauper coming through the speakers, but he catches sight of the sign to Indy and it wakes him up with a start. He glances at Steve who definitely knows he’s being stared at because the little smirk on his face grows. Something in Eddie grows with it.

Twenty minutes later they’re pulling up outside Sandy’s.

“Holy shit,” he says, almost under his breath. “I haven’t been here since… fuck, last year I think? How did you find this place?”

Steve unbuckles his seat belt, that smirk firmly still  in place. “Friend of a friend.”

And then, because Eddie’s world hasn’t spun out from beneath him enough this year —

Steve Harrington winks at him.

And it’s not a wink like, sports and jocks and rough-housing with the kids wink, it’s a wink. It’s loaded. It takes up space in the car. It passes between them, a little bird Steve set off into the air for Eddie to catch with careful hands.

He doesn’t know what’s happening, but it feels like it will collapse around him if he asks, his little tower of cards that just got to the second level will flutter to the ground. So he laughs it off, calls him a dork and then gets out of the car.

They take a booth at the back, sliding in, face to face. 

“Have you eaten here before?” Eddie asks.

“Just the once.” And there’s that smile again, and that little thing in him that keeps so deeply hidden continues to unfurl.

The waitress approaches to take their order, and Steve gets in before Eddie can.

“Two chilli dogs with extra onions, two sides of cheese fries, and two peanut butter malts, please.”

He didn’t even look at the menu.

The moment she walks away, Eddie leans forward.

“How do you know my order?” He’s a little rude with it, though he doesn’t mean to be, and for the first time Steve looks unsure.

“I told you, a friend of a friend.”

“Gareth. You can say Gareth, Steve. I’m not stupid.”

Steve picks up the salt shaker, rolling it idly between his hands. “I just wanted to do something nice, for Christmas, you know? Is that so bad?”

“You did something nice for Thanksgiving.”

“Uh, no, I tried to do something nice. Consider this a do-over.”

Eddie does his best, tries not to read too much into the fact that Steve knew his order, or that he asked Gareth for help, or that he ordered the same thing, or that he spends the entire time practically moaning as he slots the hotdog into his mouth in a way that honestly looks filthy as fuck, but he can’t possibly know what he’s doing, or what he’s doing to Eddie specifically.

He does his best. But a boy can dream. 

Steve pays, which just makes it all so much worse. Is this how they feel? All those girls from Hawkins High? Is this what it means to be wooed by the Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington?

They get back to the car, and Steve starts her up, the cool air from the vents turning warmer as they sit there. 

“That was… that was really cool, actually.” 

“Yeah, those hot dogs were awesome. Seriously we need a place like that in Hawkins.”

Eddie shakes his head. “No I mean… you bringing me here. It’s my favourite place to eat. It was a really nice thing to do. Thank you.”

Steve looks delighted. “Good, I’m glad you liked it. And hey, it wasn’t burnt this time, right?” 

Steve laughs and Eddie tries to but he can’t, is the thing. It’s all kind of caught up in him, like a tangle. He’s confused, and warm, and happy and a little sad, actually. He surrounds himself with things he wants and can’t have. Sometimes he can live with that, but sometimes it hurts.

“Thank you. Like, honestly,” and he let’s a puff of air out of him, blowing his bangs out of his eyes. Blowing the sting from them. “I haven’t been there since my birthday last year. It was kind of a tradition, you know? I didn’t get to go this year, so… yeah, thanks.” And he means it. Truly and honestly means it.

Steve taps the steering room, out of rhythm to the song on the radio, a nervous little tick Eddie’s noticed before.

“So, there’s one more thing. Uh, one more place I want to take you. If that’s okay?”

He looks so earnestly at Eddie, like he’s honestly scared Eddie will say no to him when right now Eddie doesn’t think he would deny him a fucking thing.

“Yeah, of course. Lead the way, sire.”

They don’t drive far, but they move into the suburbs on the other side of town and into a little neighbourhood Eddie recognises, before pulling up somewhere Eddie knows very well indeed. 

Wayne was the first one to bring him to Rudy’s Music Shop back on his twelfth birthday, when he got that old Fender knock-off from Gary at the plant. It needed strings, and it buzzed like crazy and Rudy’s was cheaper than the big store in the middle of the city, so they visited and Rudy fixed it up for him, almost as good as new. And when he was finally ready for his first serious guitar, something metal that he would take the world by storm with, it was Rudy’s that he went to. He couldn’t afford a lot, but the Warlock was a trade in, barely used but with a couple of big chips in the paintwork. Rudy cut him a deal, and Eddie spent three bucks on red nail polish and you could never tell they were there unless you knew where to look.

“Steve… ?”

“I um… Wayne told me about this place. I thought it would be nice to visit. It’s been a while, huh?”

“Yeah,” Eddie whispers.

Steve taps him across the chest. “Come on.”

This time he does let Steve help him out of the car, the long journey and the cold starting to wear him down. They walk over to the window, the red neon sign glowing bright into the dark street, the guitars stand like soldiers under it, and he feels the pang of want. It feels like the twist of a knife.

“You wanna go in?”

Eddie’s not sure where it comes from. But something in him stirs, something that feels like bravery, and he finds himself wanting just that. But…

“It’s closed,” he says, trying his best to keep the disappointment from his voice. “But thanks for bringing me here, it was a really lovely thought, you know.” 

Steve walks right past him to the door and knocks three times, and in a moment Rudy is there, unlocking the door and ushering them in.

“It’s good to see you, kid,” says Rudy.

“Uh— shit.” He starts laughing, it bubbles up from nowhere and he feels a little delirious with it. “It’s good to see you too. Sorry, it’s just a lot, being here.” He gestures around the store at the walls of instruments.

Rudy laughs softly, “Yeah, I bet.” Then he looks at Steve and says “You got half an hour then I got to lock up. You want the, uh—” he gestures over his shoulder with his thumb.

“Uh, give us ten minutes?”

Rudy nods before heading out back, pulling the office door closed behind him. Then it’s just them, and Eddie’s head is spinning like a fucking top.

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Promise not to get mad?”

Eddie’s eyes narrow. “Why would I get mad?”

“I thought maybe it was time to get that new guitar.”

Eddie tips his head back, looking up at the ceiling painted with famous musicians. He stares B.B. King straight in the eye. B.B. Stares right back at him.

“Steve, I just… I can’t.” He blows out a huge puff of air, and it feels like he’s emptying his heart as much as he’s emptying his lungs.

“I know you sold the Warlock. And I get why.”

“No, you don’t!”

“Okay, so explain it to me.”

“I don’t want to have this conversation.”

“You can’t run from everything, man.”

It’s like a slap and Eddie turns on him. “Oh fuck you!”

All of it’s falling to shit, all the good, summer, the trips to the drive through, the summer spent in the Harrington’s pool. Cold nights tucked up against each other watching horror movies. A burnt Thanksgiving dinner. 

A guitar strap.

Steve reaches out to him, squeezing his wrist. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just. You’re so fucking talented, Eddie, and I hate that you lost the thing you loved the most. You deserve better than that.”

Eddie scoffs. “How do you know I was talented? You’ve never heard me play.”

Steve smiles softly and digs into the pocket of his coat, pulling out a cassette before waving it gently in the air. 

“Borrowed it from Wayne. Blues, huh?” And there’s that smirk again, like he’s won something, and fuck it. He has.

“Fucker.”

“Me or Wayne?”

“Both of you.”

There’s a pause, Steve opening and closing his mouth like he's working out what to say next.

“Why did you lie? Why did you sell it?”

It’s not an accusation, just an honest question. If it were anyone else Eddie would fob them off. But it’s Steve, and he deserves so much more than that.

“Because it wasn’t the same, Steve. I couldn’t look at that fucking guitar, I didn’t want it anywhere near me, man. It just didn’t sound the same anymore. I didn’t sound the same. And it just reminded me of everything, every time I looked at it, Chrissy, and Patrick, and the bats--” He heaves in a breath. “Do you know what it’s like when your dreams are stolen? For them to just disappear overnight?”

Steve’s eyes drop to the floor, but he replies with a nod.

“I had a basketball scholarship lined up. Until Billy smashed a plate into my head, anyway. It’s not the same, I know, but I do get it.”

Billy was a bastard, and Eddie never liked him, and it’s awful but all he can think right at this moment is that he’s glad he’s dead.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know that,” he says softly.

Steve shrugs. “Shit happens. It’s what you do after that matters. Come on,” Steve takes him by the hand, locking their fingers together, and Eddie’s breath slams to a stop as Steve leads him to a stool and amp. “Rudy said you can play whatever you want. Just point and I’ll grab them. But there is one, I kind of put aside for you. If you want to try it?”

Alternate dimensions haven’t got a thing on what ever the fuck is going on here today. He barely nods before Steve runs off like an excited puppy. He returns a moment later, carefully holding a guitar. 

“So, I know this isn't like, metal, or whatever. But Rudy said it’s got a really nice tone? And it’s a lot lighter than your Warlock, so I thought… “ He coughs, suddenly sounds embarrassed, “I just thought it would be easier for you.”

He recognises it immediately; a Gibson ES-335. But not sunburst or cherry red, like everyone knows it for, but in a washed out sky blue. It’s scratched, the paintwork chipped in places, but it’s clean and otherwise clearly well looked after.

“It’s beautiful.”

Steve’s eyes light up. “Yeah?”

Tentatively, Eddie reaches out for it and Steve hands it over almost reverently. It is lighter than the Warlock, though it’s bigger. But the rounded cut outs make it fit him better, it rests comfortably on his thigh. He runs his fingers up the neck, feels the comforting grab of the frets under his finger. The loss of it all hits him so suddenly he feels himself fall back, like a gust of wind carrying his grief slammed into him. 

“Yeah,” he manages to say, but his throat is closed tight and theres no way Steve doesn’t hear it. 

Steve kneels in front of him, places his hands on Eddie’s knees and a spark fires through him.

“Play me something.”

“What?”

Steve beams at him. “Anything you want.”

He feels a tear slip over his lashes, and he watches as Steve traces it down his cheek, wiping it away before it falls from his chin.

“No tears on the guitar,” Steve whispers. “Not good for the paint.”

“Fucker,” Eddie laughs wetly. “Plug me in.”

Steve sets him up, with a little direction, then sits on the floor in front of him, legs crossed, like a toddler at story time, his attention undivided.

It’s rough, the first chords are chunky and stilted, he doesn’t have the strength or the dexterity that he once had, certainly not the speed. But as his hands warm up, as he falls into it, the rhythm, the vibration of the strings under his fingers, the callouses softened from all these months without steel underneath them. His eyes slip closed and he plays by feel again, and without thinking he starts striking chords, the D, into the F sharp, G into the A. He smiles to himself, before opening his eyes, and he and Steve lock eyes, sitting in the dark in Rudy’s, just the neon red lighting them up. 

You’re the one I’ve waited for

He sings it openly, part challenge, part declaration. 

I need your love more and more

His breath is knocked from him as Steve rushes forward, hands on Eddie’s cheeks pulling him in, his lips pressed deeply into Eddie’s. Eddie grips the guitar in one hand, covering Steve’s hand with the other, holding it there. When the shock passes, he kisses back just as fiercely, lips finding one another in the red glow.

Steve breaks apart first, breathless with giggles before leaning in for another quick peck. And then another. And then he takes the guitar from Eddie, gently places it on a stand before standing in between his legs, his hands on Eddie’s face, tipping him back, before leaning down to kiss him again, slower this time, more softly.

“I’ve thought about this for so fucking long.”

A sound escapes Eddie, air rushing out after a punch to the solar plexus, to a place deep within him.

“You have no idea, man,” is all Eddie can manage in response.

There’s a cough from behind them and they split apart as fast as they came together.

“So, uh, we taking that guitar, boys?”

“Yes,” answers Steve, at the same time Eddie says “I don’t know.”

“Do you like the guitar?” Steve asks.

“I love it.”

“Good. Then we’re taking it.”

Rudy carefully places it into a case and hands it over before letting them out onto the street, and wishing Eddie well.

“But I haven’t paid—”

“He’s all paid for kid. All yours.”

Eddie is dazed when he makes it back to the car. He looks at the little store front in the dark, the neon fighting the orange glow of the street lamps for the honour of lighting the sidewalk. It was a minute ago but it seems like a dream already, like a spell was broken the moment they walked back onto the street, and he’s not sure it happened. It’s too ridiculous to imagine that it happened.

Steve climbs in beside him, looking every bit the King of Hawkins High, smug bastard.

“What just happened?” Eddie says to no one.

He catches movement beside him, Steve pushing his fingers through his hair, checking himself out in the rearview mirror before repositioning it.

“Well, I took you to dinner, then I brought you to your favourite guitar store, bought you a beautiful guitar and basically took you out on the best date you’ve ever had.”

Eddie nods absently. “Oh, is that what happened?”

Steve looks like he’s actually thinking about. “Yeah, pretty much,” and he winks again, like he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing to Eddie now. 

They drive back to Hawkins, Steve stretching his hand out to hold Eddie’s every time they come to a stop light, Eddie squeezing it tightly like it might disappear, like it might be the last time he gets the chance.

They pull up outside Eddie’s little house, just as snow starts to flutter to the ground again. Steve leaves the car running, the heat blowing out onto their faces. Eddie feels a little flushed. He’s not entirely sure its the heater though.

“So…” he starts.

Steve throws his arm across the back of Eddie’s seat. “So.”

“Did that really happen? Because, I was dead for about five minutes back in March and they said there could be lasting consequences from the oxygen deprivation and—”

Steve shuts him up with a kiss and not for the first time Eddie’s pleased they moved to a private little house where they can’t be seen from the street.

“Firstly,” Steve says when he let’s go, “Don’t ever joke about that.” Steve’s cradles his jaw, thumb stroking at the raised pink of the scar that sits there. “But yes, it happened. All of it. Maybe I was a little slow off the blocks. Let’s just give thanks for me getting there sooner rather than later, huh?”

Eddie can’t help the bubble of laughter. “Oh, I am giving thanks, trust me, big boy.”

Steve’s eyes narrow as he leans in for another kiss.

“Oh we are totally circling back to that,” Eddie says gleefully.

“Shut up.”

They lean in again, and this time he wraps his arms around Steve’s neck, pulling him close, his lips parting ready to kiss, until a loud knock knock knock on the window has them flying apart.

Wayne peers in at the two of them as Eddie rolls the window down.

“Jesus Christ! You scared the shit out of us.”

“This strikes me as something you might want to do inside.”

Steve combs his hands through his hair, nodding. “Yep, absolutely. We will definitely do that.”

“Not tonight though,” Wayne adds, and honestly, Eddie loves this guy, he does, but fuck does he pick his moments to get parental. “Goodnight Steve.” And then, because Eddie’s suffering is his greatest pleasure, he smirks and says. “Hope it all went well.”

“Would you just leave, please, now. Thank you.”

They both watch Wayne walk back up the porch steps, a sly smile on his face.

“Fucker.” Eddie sighs into one more kiss, Steve meeting him across the console. “I should go.”

Steve hops out to grab the guitar - his guitar, and that’s going to take a while to get his head around - and carries it up to the porch for him.

“Call you tomorrow?” 

“Please,” Eddie says, feeling for all the world like a fucking schoolgirl with a crush. So, this is what it’s like?

Steve gives him that stupid little wave and smiles at him, but as he’s about to get in the car he calls back.

“Hey, what was that song you were singing?”

Eddie laughs. 

“Oh, uh, Love Hungry Man. AC/DC.”

“Holy shit,” Steve laughs. “Don’t hold back, Munson.”

He shrugs, delighted. “What can I say? Speak your truth, right?”

Eddie stands in the cold as he watches Steve drive off into the night. Flakes of snow begin to fall again, shimmering in the amber street lighting. He sticks his tongue out to catch them. He feels giddy, kind of light headed and for a second he thinks he’s over done it today, he should get in, get his pills and sleep. 

It takes a moment for it all to filter through, for his brain and his body to catch up with one another, but eventually it hits him; he’s happy. He’s never let himself want before, not big things, not things he can’t buy. He’s spent years hiding big parts of who he is, even from his closest friends, with only the dream of moving to a city to give him real hope for a connection with someone. For love.

And then Steve Harrington, brave, smart, wonderful Steve Harrington, knocks the wind right out of him, turns his world upside down, the good kind this time, and now not only does Eddie get to want, he gets to have. 

He sticks his tongue out again to catch a last, fat flake of snow, and then carries his guitar inside. 

He has a lot of practicing to do.

****

Holy shit. Full disclosure, I wrote most of this today and I'm sleep deprived and I can't bear to think how many typos and errors there are in this, but I'm trying to hit a deadline. Feel free to let me know what I fucked up. 😂

[shuyume]

i need to write an essay on the first ch of thh it is nothing short of brilliant. the way they set you up for a run of the mill vn with a bit of a gorey twist and then kill your waifu, force you to accuse her of instigating a crime, and then ask you to contemplate the morality of playing judge, jury, and executioner is oh so incredible

[axolotlclown]

So I finished Moominvalley season 4 and here is my review:

Of course, spoilers ahead! It's long. It's detailed. It's a bit much, and I spent hours writing it.

I greatly disliked this season, not just from one particular angle. When Moominvalley first came out, it was advertised as the first narrative-style adaptation. This would imply one concrete story that ran throughout the show. They said the story would take time and required patience, but there was a larger narrative story. What was that story exactly? In the beginning, each character was established with certain flaws that they needed to grow from.

For Moomintroll, throughout season 1, we see him struggle with his father's expectations. He never quite makes his own decisions—either doing what he's told or what other people in his life would do. In the last episode of the season, Midwinter Ancestor, Moomintroll is told by Too-Tikky to not open the closet door. Going against her wishes, he does so anyway. This is the first instance of Moomintroll making a decision for himself. In the end, it was a bad decision, and he regretted it, but it still was a big moment. We understand the importance of this journey when he changes out the picture by his bedside table. It was a baby photo with his parents; now, it's a photo of Moomintroll fully grown. This was meant to denote a journey of independence.

We see him continue with this struggle in season 2. The Hobgoblin's hat adds to the internalized identity crisis. During the lighthouse arc, Moomintroll is mostly doing his own thing, somewhat. Although, I think that cutting out his glade from the book sort of hurt this theme of independence. I hoped that they would revisit that somehow, but they never did. In season 3, Lonely Mountain, we see a sort of regression with Moomintroll. (Ignore how this affected Snufkin, I'll come back to this later.) When Moomintroll unpacks his things, we see a collection of items that represent Moomintroll's past. One of these items was the old baby picture. Aside from this episode, we don't see any notable growth from Moomintroll this season.

In season 4, we watch Moomintroll fall right back into his father's shadow. He continues to struggle to carve his own path. The set up for Comet in Moominland was promising, but ultimately did not deliver. When Moomintroll goes against his friends to make a decision for himself, it turns out to be a bad decision that he regrets later, and someone else has to guide him out of the situation.

Moomintroll ends from the same place he started as a character. All growth is erased and ignored. While this is the most egregious example—with him being the protagonist—he is not the only character that this happens with.

Snufkin probably upsets me the most, as he had so much potential to be the most interesting character in the series. In season 1, The Spring Tune, we see where Snufkin is starting as far as his strengths and flaws go. What particularly intrigued me was his relationship to attachment. We see that Snufkin ultimately fears abandonment, and he copes with this in conflicting ways. He wants to be with Moomintroll out of fear of being left behind, but he is afraid that he feels this way. He tries to create distance between him and Moomintroll in an attempt to ease what he experiences as pain. This is demonstrated further in the next episode, The Last Dragon in the World, when he frees the dragon. We see his struggle with responsibility and commitment in Snufkin and the Park Keeper.

In season 2, The Hobgoblin's Hat, Snufkin is explaining to Moomintroll what the King's Ruby is. The ruby functions as a metaphor for love throughout the season. Moomintroll imagines that the Hobgoblin must love this ruby, while Snufkin argues that he only wants to possess it. While both may be correct in their own ways, they fail to understand each other. As a result, Snufkin decides to leave Moomintroll out of fear of being possessed himself under the false pretense that he is helping with the hat (he did not). We never visit this plot point again.

Snufkin has some large developments in season 3. In the Lonely Mountain, we see Snufkin break down his walls and let Moomintroll in. He acknowledges his responsibility to him and his longing to see him. Unfortunately, this aspect of his character is completely abandoned in season 4.

Back to season 1, Snufkin and the Park Keeper, we get a flashback in which Snufkin is enjoying a party with Moomintroll until he is overwhelmed by the presence of others. He winds up abandoning Moomintroll and the valley. He does this again in season 2, The Hobgoblin's Hat, as discussed above. In season 3, Snufkin and the Fairground, Snufkin chooses not to abandon his responsibility to Moomintroll or the valley. When faced with an uncomfortable challenge, he chooses to stay and support Moomintroll.

In season 4, The Great Cold, when faced with a crowded challenge, Snufkin abandons Moomintroll again. While he appears later in the episode, it felt disingenuous to me. The original problem had already been solved. In Comet in Moominvalley, Snufkin does not abandon Moomintroll. In fact, he makes an active effort to stay by his side. But it feels strange, almost undeserved? We saw so little of Snufkin this season, and when we did, he spent his screen time backtracking his progress.

In season 3, Lonely Mountain, Snufkin has a small monologue about listening to the campfire as the sparks dance and fly. Well, the whole episode was about listening. Anyway, that was a call back to the season 1 episode, The Invisible Child, in which Too-Tikky tells Moomintroll that there are many lost souls in Moominvalley that needed to be heard. The screen then cut to Snufkin leaving the valley. It would have been really cool to find out what that meant!

His abandonment issues never really get addressed. Refusing to let Snufkin meet his father was just baiting the audience. It was also just bad writing! What's his deal—where's his lore?? Who made him like this? Why is he so afraid of intimacy? Why are basic fundamental questions about this main character being left unanswered?

It really is disappointing. Every adaptation (and the books, if we're being honest) treat Snufkin like a stoic hero. He doesn't want to be looked up to, yet he's always painted as a character that you should. This is the first adaptation that gave him flaws. He felt like a character that needed growth and time. He was never given either.

I won't spend so much time on Snorkmaiden, even though she was robbed, too. She never grew to be more independent apart from Moomintroll. In the same vein as Moomintroll and Snufkin, her character ends exactly the way she started. All of her character growth vanished in seasons 3 and 4. I love this version of Snorkmaiden. I certainly prefer it to her other portrayals. But the writers screwed her over so bad, it's heartbreaking.

None of the characters actually learn or change. Everyone sort of becomes a static character, which makes any semblance of a plot impossible to write. For the fun of it, I will try to decode a plot, anyway.

So, you're not crazy. Moomintroll and Snufkin were set up to be endgame. There was a way to make Moomintroll and Snorkmaiden endgame in a satisfying way, but the writers chose against it. It's a very suspicious backtracking that reeks of queerbaiting, but let me explain the narrative romance angles first.

I feel unsatisfied with the ending Moomintroll and Snorkmaiden got. Throughout seasons 1 and 2, they would frequently lie for each other's approval, and jealousy was a common player. They would ignore each other when someone more interesting came along. Ultimately, what led to the break up in season 2, Farwell Snorkmaiden, was the understanding that Snorkmaiden was just more mature than Moomintroll. In her own way, she was ready for a serious committed relationship, and Moomintroll was not.

However, there was never a formal conversation of them getting back together. They just sort of were? And all of the problems in their relationship were never resolved. They still lied to each other and ignored one another for something shinier all the time. It was irritating. These two became no better than Sniff in the end. I'm standing on business with that.

I'm also not convinced that Moomintroll and Snorkmaiden can have a healthy relationship after the finale. They will definitely break up again. They haven't resolved any of the issues that led to their original break.

Okay, so Moomintroll and Snufkin. Let's chat about that for a while. The first three episodes establish Moomintroll, Snufkin, and their relationship together (in that order). We, as viewers, are led to believe that their relationship (either romantic or platonic) is the key to understanding the story. Throughout seasons 1 and 2, every single motif for love (lanterns, fires, the ruby, etc.) that is introduced is done with Moomintroll and Snufkin. Regardless, different expressions of love and intimacy were the focal point of the show. That was almost completely abandoned in seasons 3 and 4. While turning the focus on the greater community could have added depth, it ultimately detracted from the close personal relationships that were driving the narrative.

So, the Groke. She does not just represent fear, she is a reflection of each character's own fears. I loved this! I thought it was a really cool concept, and the ways that she was portrayed in seasons 1 and 2 were excellent. Here's the thing. In her introduction in season 1, Night of the Groke, we are also introduced to lanterns/fires as a motif about love. The Groke is chasing love and craves acceptance. It's not quite something you can catch, and trying to is a failed endeavor. Brilliant episode. We saw what Snufkin's greatest fear was earlier in the season (loving Moomintroll), but we needed to pay more attention to see Moomintroll's fear. I think it was complex. On one hand, with the lanterns, Moomintroll could also be afraid to love Snufkin. However, as we saw at the end of Moomintroll and the Seahorses, he needs to learn independence before he can love someone. This was also reinforced through Snorkmaiden in Farwell Snorkmaiden. The fires and lanterns were constant reoccurring motifs (not just for Moomintroll and Snufkin, though that's where the focus is right now). Rewatch the season 3 episode, Lonely Mountain, and that one monologue that Snufkin gives will start to make sense.

By abandoning these important motifs, the Groke's conclusion feels unfinished. It just felt wrong. In the end, she did just represent fear. This completely erased the layer of depth that she had to start.

For Moomintroll to learn to be more independent and self-reliant, he needed to learn from Snufkin. For Snufkin to learn to accept love and responsibility, he needed to learn from Moomintroll. They were the keys to each other's growth. When they were together, the plot moved. When they weren't, the episodes felt like filler for the most part.

Also, small detail, despite the change in one photo (the baby photo to grown Moomintroll) the photo with Moomintroll and Snufkin never changed. Which narratively makes no sense.

The writers originally set this up for them to be romantically involved. Which, given the context of their dynamic in the books and comics, makes sense. It's not as much of a stretch as people are trying to gaslight themselves into believing. These characters were originally heavily queer coded. However, the original text is sort of a tragedy. No matter what happened, Moomintroll and Snufkin could never truly be together—no matter how much they tried. This mirrored Tove Jansson's relationship to her first fiance Atos Wirtanen as well as her relationship to her own queerness. However, it looked like Moominvalley wanted something different. Queer people had enough tragic stories told already. This one would tell queer kids that it was going to be okay, and that they were going to find love. Tove Jansson's original message about love and freedom was finally going to be understood.

Instead, not only was this potentially beautiful story abandoned, it was mocked. In the season 4 episode, Midsummer Meddling, there was a scene I found quite shocking. Sniff had convinced himself that he was to fall in love with somebody. One of his "love interests" was a male scarecrow. This is the only openly queer semblance of romance that we got and it was played off as a joke. In the final season. They didn't even backtrack Moomintroll and Snufkin, they just completely ignored everything that was set up.

In the final episode, Comet in Moominland, there was an incredibly brief exchange between Moomintroll and Snufkin about who looked up to who. This would have been a fantastic place to give these characters some sort of conclusion, but we don't get that. In all of the 45 minute special, the characters are never prioritized. In the whole season, even. Really, not a single character got a satisfying conclusion, but Moomintroll and Snufkin were the most important.

This is a powerful and historic piece of queer media. Tove Jansson's queer legacy was so iconic that she was directly cited as an influence in the legalization of same sex marriage in Finland. Her work proved to further the queer community. Despite sodomy laws and fear of incarceration, Jansson continued to do what she could to tell her own queer story. That is what Moomin is. That is its legacy.

I was prepared to defend Gutsy if Snufmin didn't go canon. At the end of the day, it's usually TV execs threatening to pull the whole show off the air. The show was too costly to risk any interesting writing. However, the writers didn't recover, and some of the writing just felt downright melicious at times.

Anyway, if you love slice-of-life content, you probably loved this season and the show's conclusion. It is such a shame that the creators promised something completely different from what the show turned out to be. It's no surprise that viewers are disappointed.

I do have one more thing to say ☝️😀. This is going to hurt Moomin's mission to expand to the US. It's been very obvious that they have been trying to expand to North America. Brave and bold writing would have caught the attention of new viewers. Instead, few Americans are going to recommend this show to others. Aside from that, the next logical move is to make an American adaptation. Good luck trying to find a competent YA cartoon creator that won't threaten to walk off the project if they can't have Snufmin. That being said, they'll have better luck making that canon here anyway. (Everybody say, "thank you Rebecca Sugar and Pendleton Ward.")

Well, in the end, I don't think the fight to make Snufmin a real, transparent queer story ends with Moominvalley. I can say, though, that the prioritization of profit over respect and love for others is not at all what Tove Jansson would have wanted.

Seasons 1 and 2 were peak, and season 3, episode 8, was batshit insane. That is all.

[bunnieswithknives]

sorry if idk this but what do you think about Wordgirl now in 2024 do you still like it do you still want to make art or talk about it or are you just done with all of it forever and plus i seen that you haven't made art of it since 2022 so you just done with all of it oh yeah and what about The Magnus Archives + Wordgirl ao3 fic too like is that just going to be and i know that your working on 2 au's now just wanting to know that's all

My interests tend to come in intense bursts and then fade. Unless something like, big happens like it gets a reboot its unlikely I'll be coming back to it anytime soon. As for the fic I don't have any current plans to finish it unfortunately.

[penisbilt]

the bittersweet but absolute flood of relief that comes from admitting defeat at living independently, to have to move back in with parents. we tried! we gave it our best shot for almost 3 years! but living like this (being on our own) is just not possible for us at this time of our lives. we've finally proved it to ourselves that we can't do it. it'll be okay to let ourselves rest now

[girlivealwaysbean]

it would feel so nice to work towards a career that has meaningful impact and makes millions of people happy

[watercolor-hearts]

.

[devilsskettle]

sdc is at her best when she plays acoustic or when penelope scott is remixing her shit but i don’t think she’s quite figured out how to mix her own music for the pop sound she’s going for. i think it’s only a matter of time before she gets better production value (bigger budget + more resources) and i love her songwriting anyway so i don’t give a shit about slightly poorer editing or whatever but the songs she’s releasing officially rn do sound like demos

[not-souleaterpost]

When you deleted your reddit acount because the Soul Eater reddit doesnt like your posts

Nah but for real, say what you want about tumblr, but reddit is so much more anoying - but maybe thats most social media, tried uploading videos on tiktok only to get copyright stuck the same second or just have them deleted for vague comunity guidelines shit, maybe I was too hard on youtube.

I know crying about reddit is pathetic but I dunno, just let me vent lol, idunno gotta get my shit together, too many distractions and other bullshit.

[honeyvenommusic]

.

[sensitivegoblin]

Vent

[713-4th-ward-g]

.

[hedgehog-moss]

The tragic thing when you're at a craft market is that the woman with the warm smile who seemed like a genuinely lovely person when you stopped by her stand to make small talk, is always the one selling ugly little cups decorated with modern movie characters. Meanwhile the woman next to her who sells adorable water jugs decorated with Old-Timey Bucolic paintings of flowers and farm animals, looks like she's doing people a favour by selling them her stuff. She is not lovely or even polite but she doesn't need to be, her stand is printing money, she knows what tourists in a rural village potters' market are looking for and it's a pretty jug with a curly handle and featuring little chickens and children wearing clogs. Not a modern-looking coffee cup with a gremlin or E.T. painted on it.

You text your mum to ask if you should buy an ugly gremlin coffee cup because the vendor is really sweet and not very popular and she texts back NO. We've talked about this. So many times. Buy what you like. You really like the water jug featuring a little donkey pulling a little cart—but you've been here a while and no one has bought anything from the really kind woman, which hurts. You text your mum a photo of the gremlin cup with a sad emoji. She replies, It's hideous. (It's not that bad.) (The photo was taken from far away, she can't even see it very well. She's just trying to get you back on track.) You're about to join the queue to the Popular Stand to spend your only 20€ note on the donkey pitcher when you see a man stop in front of the nice lady's empty stand and pick up an ugly cup, which makes you happy. The man asks for the price then tells the nice lady, "It's not worth it" and puts the cup back on the shelf and walks away.

On your way home from the potters' market you call your mum and ask her if she would accept an ugly gremlin cup as a gift from you because, well, your kitchen decoration is more Old-Timey Bucolic and you don't really want this cup. Which you now have, on account of an inescapable series of events. There is a dismayed-yet-unsurprised silence in response and you say defensively "She looked happy to finally make a sale!" and your mum says, give me the ugly gremlin cup, I'm sure it's not that bad.

[youraveragecatastrophe]

*emerges from the Carmen Sandiego (2019) french dub covered in blood*

[chaepink]

can u make headcannons on sub!yan’s tendencies in the relationship?

also can i be 🉑 or 🌝 anon?

dating sub!yandere boys hcs ♡

sub!yandere boys when they date you.

wc: 1.1k+ words | masterlist

dom!fem!reader, unhealthy relationship, mention of killing/murder, both sfw and nsfw!, mention of feminization, bondage

note: yes you can be 🌝 anon!

— your yandere would be possessive of you, even more compared to when you two were just friends

— well, you thought you two were just friends. he already assumed you two were together sometime earlier during his friendship with you

— he would do anything for you in order to make sure you're happy and safe

— a friend of yours is getting too touchy with you? well the next day that friend is ignoring you and when you confront them, they look at you scared and quickly scurry away from you. did your yandere do something to them? surely not

— a weird guy keeps following you around your neighborhood? well a couple of days later you see on the news that his body has been found near a river and weirdly enough, you havent seen your yandere on the days before the guy's death

— you complain to your yandere about how a teacher gave you a bad grade on something you worked so hard on? suddenly your grade changes to a A and that same exact teacher suddenly resigns from the school

— he'll try his best to know where you are most of the time and try to follow you back home to make sure you're safe (though its really obvious, you don't acknowledge him so he thinks he's actually doing something)

— but no matter how scary and possessive they are of you, they just want to be good for you, really

— its almost as if they're a puppy for you, always there for your beck and call

— give them a simple command and they'll do it immediately, no questions asked

— ask them to buy you a snack from the nearest store? he'll return back with a bagful of others that he thought you would like

— they're super clingy and always want to be near you

— somehow they manage to have the same exact classes that you have and at the same time. maybe you guys are just lucky? little do you know that your yandere hacked into the principal's computer to change his schedule to fit with yours

— if you're sick, they would immediately fetch you some medicine and make so many bowls of your favorite soup that you're not sure you could finish them all

— they would be so sad when you're sick cause that means they can't be as close as they usually are with you :(

— in bed, nothing changes at all. rather, he becomes even more infatuated with you

— they're still so good and obedient for you, always following your commands. its cute

— like what i said with him doing it with no hesitation, your yandere is eager to do what you say

— tell him to get on his knees? say less as he's already doing so, staring up at you with such innocent eyes

— tell him to open his mouth for you to stick your fingers inside? he opens wide and sticks out his tongue in such a sinful manner, hazy eyes absolutely begging you to make him choke on your fingers as drool drips down his chin

— order him to suck your strap and get it all wet? he's quick to get in between your legs and get his hands on the fake dick, his mouth going straight to bobbing it up and down and gagging as it hits the back of his throat. he'll try to subtly grind his hard on against your foot without you noticing but you do anyways but he's being a good boy so you allow it

— and oh my god is he so shameless in public

— no hesitation in telling you what he wants you to do to him when there are people around

— you'll be at brunch with some of your friends and suddenly you'll feel a hot breath on your ear, such sinful words coming soon after

"im wearing lingerie under my clothes, your favorite set too. wouldn't you like to just ruin me right here and now? make me cry and look so pretty while you show everyone im yours?"

— safe to say that you immediately dragged him to the family bathroom and fingered him until he was gripping onto you for dear life, begging and crying out for you to stop and take pity on him (he's lying about wanting you to stop)

— when you're out with errands or just at work, he'll take such sinful pictures of himself to send to you randomly

— the pictures would include his legs spread out, a obvious bulge in his underwear, and something adorning his body whether its lingerie, a maid outfit, or rope that's tied so tightly on him

— if he's feeling like teasing you even more, he'll send whimpering audios that beg you to come home and fuck him and if you listen close enough, you'll hear some wet noises that let you know that he's masturbating

"f-fuck, [name] come back s-soon, please? i-i miss you so much! i- ah! i-im wearing your favorite outfit right now! i'll be a g-good ngh boy waiting for you ♡"

— itll end up with you rushing home after you're finished to fuck him dumb in that outfit, making it stained with his tears and cum

— he knows you can't really get him pregnant but your yandere just loves those straps with cum in them that you can just shoot inside him whenever you're fucking him fast and rough

— that'll make his eyes roll back and head throw backwards as he lets out such a loud mewl at the feeling of your fake cum filling him up

— and afterwards he'll tease you by using his fingers to push the cum thats gushing out of his hole back in before licking his fingers

— although your yandere is a good boy for you most of the time, theres times where he's a brat

— he'll talk back to you whenever you command him to do something or cum without permission

— but just some long edging or overstimulation will break him and turn him into a sobbing mess

— tying his hands to the headboard and keeping his legs spread apart whilst a vibrator is inside him on the highest setting is his favorite punishment

— your yandere thinks you don't know that since you do it all the time but you actually do know it, you just love the way his face is stained with his drool and tears while his chest and the sheets underneath him is covered in his cum afterwards

— such a slut but we love him for it

ty for reading to the end! ❤ - chaepink

╰┈➤ masterlist | rules