#sunday school dropout

[madsmilfelsen]

baby vampire who needs to be fed like a baby bird by their sire until their teeth are sharp au

[fourdiagnosesinatrenchcoat]

I'm reading a book that is basically a memoir about gardening and naturally there are a bunch of references to Eden, Paradise Lost, etc, and I find myself thinking how it's possibly that billions of people believe that their god created the world we live in even though the manifestation of their belief and the beginning of their religion didn't start until ~2k years ago. Like, Earth is fucking old. Humans have only been around for a tiny bit of it but even we and our ancestors have been using tools for millions of years and fire for at least a quarter of a million years. But the Christian god sat around letting people go to hell for being unbaptized until pretty recently? Baptism, "an infallible means to ensure full happiness in the beatific vision," a sacrament that's been studied extensively by the Catholic Church in their worry about aborted fetuses going to hell when they might have developed into a person who wanted to be baptized, like fetuses aren't incredibly likely to self-abort, like kids have any choice about an eventual baptism (I did not). What do they say about miscarriages? "So sorry for the loss of your fetal cells you really wanted to develop into a baby but that are now doomed to an eternity of torment."

I find your logic wanting.

[sloaaaa]

!?

[yellowcry]

School in Encanto!

You all know it's time to headcanon!

The education in Encanto isn't essentially great. As it found by the bunch of refugees without good supplies.

Kids up to one-two years gap in age sometimes can be put in the same class. It mostly depends on how many children were born during this year. If there's just a few, they would be put with another class to save up space and people to educate them. It was especially evident in the early years. As for the first ten years or so childbirth had really low rate until the village had actually set.

In the opposite side, if too many kids were born in one year and class doesn't have enough supplie for them all, the eldest can be sometimes put into the older group, or yongest of generation can be put into younger.

Boys and gurls tend to be put in the opposite sides of the classroom.

The school does learn the basic of Arithmetics, Spanish. For History kids for the more part focused on learning about Latin America and Colombia specifically. Same goes for geography, which is hugely focused on Encanto as well. They do learn about other parts of the world too, but it's often shallow and doesn't get much attention. As living in a closed village with no exiting way out makes information about other climat types and geography relatively useless aside from general development.

For the bigger part, Encanto school is focused on practical skills for everyday use. Sewing, cooking, how to fix broken things or take care of the animals. It doesn't come to the professional level, but is solely enough to survive on their own even if their parents don't teach them anything (which they almost always do) as these are somethings you need to survive.

In general, school isn't obligatory, but is heavily encorauged to get your kids into. If for some reason kid doesn't go at school, they would be visited from time to time. To check their intellectual development. If it turns out they lack some basic knowledge, such as arithmetics, Latin America geography or a proper level of Spanish (and most others) they will be forced to visit classes.

A good shred of Catholic education too. Both at school and after Sunday service. Religion had important role in the time. And even outside from classes focused of in it, most time different aspects of reality are explained with Bible perspective.

Madrigal specifics headcanons

Gifted Madrigals are allowed to skip school when it comes to using their gifts to help the community. They are technically requested to complete tasks later. But most people just let them slide.

Isabela probably wasn't the best student in her time. Not essentially bad, but she was much interested in more stuff. Plus the pressure as the first born grandkid and the pretty Madrigal. Alma took her out of school in the last years to focus Isabela primarly on her future role as the leader of Encanto. Which Isabela was surprisingly good at, as she's a very natural leader. Also, Isabela sucks with deadlines. Hugely because of pressure to he perfect. She spends a tupid amount of time making a perfect cover/beginning and at the night before the dew day realises the has about two million more pages to write.

Dolores is far better than Isabela. More patient and reversed. And Dolores in generally smart. Her hearing also helps her with being observant of what the teacher is saying. However she definitely ruined lections several times. Just because she heard something interesting and couldn't keep her mouth shut about it. When Isabela left, Dolores pretty much stopped visiting most of lections/non-practical classes. However she still listened to them and kept the notes that she showed to her teacher so nobody concinderedered her as dropout. And if Dolores thinks today's topic is extremely interesting, it would be completely normal to see her sneaking in at the middle of lecture like there's nothing wrong with it.

Luisa is coming closer to Isabela. Pretty restless and prefers physical activity. Also you do know who would have the most chores to skip school. No, of course she wasn't absent completely, but it happened more often than with the other kids. But if Luisa locks in then she locks in and you will never pull her off the books. Also as complete opposite of her sister, Luisa is always going her homework exactly the same day. Workaholism doesn't like when she slacks off her responsibilities.

Camilo is extremely outgoing/social. Is definitely the type that comes in school to talk with his friends. And then it depends on who is in today and who is not. Also pretty restless but in more outgoing way than Luisa. Likes chatting a lot and definitely interrupts teacher a lot by accident. Would extremely take his sister/older cousins old assigments and copy them. He's honestly not a big fan of school so well.

Mirabel is considered the most talented student among the grandkids. Which she usually dismisses as not a big achievement, feels that because she never has to miss anything to help the communituy she will be privileged here. She really overdoes it to make up for the lack of gift she has, tends.to perfectionism the same way Isabela was. Only that Mirabel actually spends her time correctly and it's all decent and not rushed everywhere. Plus, Mirabel is very observant and patient, which also makes her get many clues and understand the pattern of the things she learns simular to Dolores. Secretly enjoys when teachers are praising her as it's one of the little amount of attention she gets, especially being noticed by someone outside of her family.

[rking200]

Hello all! For a while now, I've been working with @connor-sent-by-cyberlife to create a wonderful fic for the @dbh-bb. They've been putting up with me and churning out beautiful artwork for the fic, such as the cover art pictured above. For today, there's just one chapter to read, but expect a new chapter every Sunday until the end. The Red Room Please read the tags for any potential triggers. More tags may need to be added as chapters are posted. More info below the cut, or click the link above to be taken straight to AO3!

The Red Room by rking200 Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor Characters: Hank Anderson, Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Original Chloe | RT600, Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Elijah Kamski Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, Stalking, Vomiting, Suicidal Thoughts, Top Hank Anderson, Bottom Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Connor is a Mess (Detroit: Become Human), Hank Anderson is Bad at Feelings, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Missing Persons, Abduction, Manipulation, Death Threats, Mental Health Issues, Zlatko didn't do it, POV Alternating Summary: Connor Stern is a law school dropout who dreams of making it big in the music industry. He manages to get into a special apprenticeship program with the musical genius Elijah Kamski and, despite working two jobs and struggling to stay afloat, feels like his dream is finally within his grasp. When Hank Anderson stumbles into the lounge Connor performs at, The Red Room, he becomes entranced with him. As Hank falls in love with Connor's voice, he ends up entangled with conflicting emotions and delicate situations. Slowly, his nights are filled with Connor's songs and his closeness, even if he feels he doesn't deserve it. They reach several roadblocks along the way of getting closer, some more dangerous than others. A collaboration written alongside Connor-sent-by-Cyberlife for the Reverse Big Bang 2024, told with a POV alternating between Hank and Connor. Chapters added weekly.

[gazebo-components]

Improv Is Cool Now: reflections on the past, present, and future of improv on the internet

DISCLAIMER: this is LONG -- not because it’s comprehensive or correct, but because I have a lot of thoughts. i am not an authority on improv, i just like it. these are some things i have noticed & been thinking about over the last couple years.

TLDR: the world of digital comedy is getting increasingly improv-ified. because of this, improv is forced to adapt to digital forms, which is sometimes awkward but (i think) generally very exciting! it's taking on a new life and reaching more people than ever before and it's maybe... even... cool now ? i investigate dropout’s and smosh’s recent improv ventures to find an answer and then i talk a little bit about saturday night live. also, there's color-coding.

IMPROV OVERVIEW

- Basically there are 3 big improv schools/theaters that are seen as launching-off points for comedy stardom: Second City, Groundlings, and Upright Citizens Brigade (UCB). SNL hires from them, a bunch of famous comedians have come from them, etc. Of course there are other schools and other ways to “make it” in sketch/improv, and many people have critiqued the school system for being gatekeepy/culty, but the big 3 schools are pretty much the center of the improv/sketch world. 

- The big 3 each have their own class tracks for sketch and improv that can eventually lead to auditions for house teams, which are SUPER competitive. At UCB you audition for Harold teams (improv) and Maude teams (sketch). At Groundlings you audition for Sunday Company and are then possibly invited to join the main company. I know the least about Second City but I think you audition for a touring company & are then possibly invited to join the main company? IDK.

- I cannot stress how competitive these auditions are, at all 3 schools. Over 1000 people audition for UCB Harold teams every year and less than 1% get a spot. Getting on a house team is a BIG FUCKIN DEAL. 

- There are (basically speaking) 2 kinds of improv: short-form (more structured: games, wacky characters) and long-form (less structured: scenes, plotlines). Short-form is often seen as "easier" and more palatable for a non-improv audience than long-form, which can be really esoteric and confusing and hard to watch. Groundlings and Second City focus on short-form & sketch, UCB Harold is long-form, UCB Maude is sketch.

RECORDED/TELEVISED IMPROV

- Improv on TV, especially long-form, has historically not been good or successful — UCB experiments with recording/televising longform shows in the 2000s, but nothing really goes mainstream. One exception is Whose Line Is It Anyway (a short-form show by Second City alums), which runs from 1998-2007 and is pretty popular. Whose Line comes back in 2013 but is on shaky shaky ground, might be over now? IDK.

- 2020: Recorded longform improv has its first big moment in Ben Schwartz and shitty guy Thomas Middleditch (both former UCB Harold performers), whose special Middleditch and Schwartz prompts Vulture to ask, “What if improv were good?" IMO, this is the point where Improv Starts Being Cool.

DROPOUT

- Early CollegeHumor team is full of improv comedians, mostly UCB. Many (Brennan, Siobhan, Trapp, Ally, Zac, Grant, etc…) have been on Harold/Maude teams.

- 2020-ish: Big dramatic CollegeHumor -> Dropout shift; one major takeaway is that unscripted content does much better than scripted content. Dropout pivots to focus on unscripted, eventually premiering Make Some Noise, a short-form show often compared to Whose Line. (Sam Reich says MSN has brought more people to Dropout than any other show.)

- 2022-2023: Dropout introduces multiple longform improv shows, including Play It By Ear and Very Important People (both hosted by UCB Harold performers). VIP performs exceptionally well and is even submitted for Emmy consideration.

- 2023: Wayne Brady from Whose Line appearing on MSN is a MAJOR passing-the-torch moment for improvisers. Wayne tells Sam that only two productions have ever gotten filmed improv right: Whose Line and Dropout.

- 2024: Dropout Presents, a set of original comedy specials, includes 2 longform improv shows: Bigger! With Brennan And Izzy and From Ally To Zacky -- a performance by Yeti, a graduated UCB Harold team made up mostly of Dropout regulars.

- TAKEAWAY: DROPOUT IS DOING MORE LONGFORM. I mean, they're doing more of a lot of stuff, including short-form. But VIP and the longform Dropout Presents specials indicate a willingness to try recorded longform à la Middleditch and Schwartz, which makes perfect sense given that so many of them were/are UCB Harold performers. Will it pay off?? We'll see!!

SMOSH

- 2016: Smosh’s first Try Not To Laugh, a version of the improv game Bus Stop/Park Bench. To my knowledge, the cast at this time has no one from the big 3 improv schools -- of course, this does not mean they aren’t good improvisers (because clearly they are!), just that Smosh isn’t connected to the traditional improv world at this point.

- 2020: Smosh hires its first professionally trained improvisers as cast members: Ify (UCB), who eventually leaves to do a bunch of Dropout stuff, Jacklyn (Second City), who eventually leaves to join Second City NY, and Amanda (Groundlings), who was on Sunday Company and gets on a UCB Maude team in 2022. In other words, they’re all excellent school-trained improvisers.

- 2022: Smosh hires two UCB sketch/improv performers, Angela and Chanse, who were on a Maude team together with Smosh writer Patrick McDonald and editor Josh Fleury.

- 2023: Anthony comes back and they start doing old-school sketches that incorporate the rest of the cast. They do ok, but unscripted content like TNTL continues to be more popular (echoing Dropout’s experience)

- 2024: Angela and Chanse are announced to host the variety/sketch/improv show Bit City. The first episode contains 2 sketches, a 10-minute character improv piece from Amanda, and a 10-minute reunion (semi-improvised). The cast are clearly very excited about being involved in "traditional" sketch/improv (as opposed to just being in pit/games stuff).

- TAKEAWAY: SMOSH IS GETTING MORE INTO TRADITIONAL IMPROV. Try Not To Laugh continues to be one of their most popular series, Bit City is being extremely hyped up, and the cast has gone to multiple Groundlings workshops together. My guess is that Smosh will stick to short-form, because their audience is less comedy-nerd-y than Dropout's and none of the Smosh cast are UCB Harold alums (remember, Angela and Chanse were on a Maude [sketch] team, and Amanda did Groundlings, which is short-form and sketch). Again, this doesn't mean they can't do long-form (they definitely can), but I do think their skills/interests lie mainly in sketch and character/short-form improv.

SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE

- SNL is decidedly not an improv show, because improv is much scarier to do on live broadcast television than sketch is, but it is still a live show and historically many of its performers have been improvisers. Again, SNL hires improvisers almost exclusively from the big 3 theaters.

- SNL undergoes an identity crisis around 2020-2022 as many well-loved cast members (many of whom are improvisers) leave, hiring mainly standup comedians, not improvisers, to replace them

- Current SNL cast improvisers: Bowen Yang (UCB), Chloe Fineman (Groundlings), Ego Nwodim (UCB), Mikey Day (Groundlings), Heidi Gardner (Groundlings), Chloe Troast (indie, to my knowledge!). The rest are stand-ups, or are named Colin or Kenan.

- TAKEAWAY: SNL IS SAME OLD SAME OLD, BUT... Lorne Michaels is speculated to leave after this season (50), discussions of a “new era” and major shifts for the show. Possible replacements include Tina Fey and Seth Meyers (both are career improvisers, unlike Lorne) — could SNL incorporate improv in the future? Again, historically difficult because of broadcast television rules, but idk, it's an interesting thought

CONCLUSION

- improv is cool now! more and more digital comedy productions are turning towards improv, maybe a reflection of greater desire for authenticity/humanness on the internet? idk.

- the big 3 theaters continue to be a driving force of the improv world, despite some people's desires to move away from that kind of institutional importance. UCB in particular is being showcased a lot because of dropout, though idk if that translates to anything in the real world.

- dropout is doing more longform (yay!!) and is making their real-life improv connections/teams/relationships more explicit with filmed live improv shows and bringing in established groups of improvisers like Improvised Shakespeare.

- the current smosh cast contains three classically trained improvisers, and the channel seems to be making moves towards traditional improv in the style of the big 3 schools, but will probably stick to shortform. (also, no, the smosh-dropout merger is not happening anytime soon.)

- young people think SNL is cringe now (imo it's just as cringe as it ever was... live sketch is HARD). the show will have to make some major changes if it wants to stay relevant, and they'll be looking to the success of digital comedy as inspiration and competition. my prediction: after season 50 they'll do a big overhaul, get a new young host, might even poach a couple Dropout stars.

- there’s A LOT OF stuff I didn't get into: the evolution of standup/crowdwork/recorded standup specials, SNL hiring trends over the years, the pandemic + comedy (particularly TikTok sketch), the Smosh Sitcom Live, what the hell a Harold even is and why it matters. this is already very long and i am, frankly, very tired.

FURTHER READING:

UCB Harold/Maude rosters -- command-f your favorite dropout people to see who they were on a team with

Improv Nation -- the ultimate improv history book; i read it my sophomore year of high school and i was obsessed

this guy’s blog post about wayne brady on MSN

this breakdown of SNL cast member origins up to 2013, which ends with a series of wildly incorrect predictions (fewer standups, no internet performers)

thanks for reading!

[uglypastels]

Diary of Potential College Dropouts // Steddie au

modern!college!au - Neither of them expects to make it through a full semester, though for different reasons. Is that perhaps why they were given a dorm to share?

author's note: this is just a little something-something as I'm struggling with the rest of pirate!eddie. I'm not sure you can really say this has a plot but if you like it, please support by reblogging and commenting or leaving an ask with your thoughts

big thanks to @eddies-house for giving me the idea for this. and @pollenallergie for coming through with amazing suggestions for this imaginary school

word count: 6k

warnings: no plot, just vibes. swearing, alcohol. drugs. quarter-life crises. dark humour. mention of unhappy family lives. anxiety. mention of throwing up.

My advice to you... is to start drinking. Heavily - Animal House (1979)

Steve had not wanted his parents to come with him on Moving Day. 

They said their goodbyes on the curb of his childhood home. His old car was packed to the brim with cardboard boxes; Dad had his arm around Mom and extended an arm for a sturdy handshake. To Steve’s surprise, his mother bit into her cheek, pushing a sour smile from underneath her tear-stinging eyes. Perhaps she would actually miss him. But he wouldn’t be surprised to return for Christmas break and see his bedroom go through its fourth renovation in the four months of his absence. 

Before getting in the car, Steve told them he’d text when he got there. It wasn’t a lie, per se, as he did not not want to. But even as he said the words, he knew he would forget by the time he drove up to campus, and something told him that his parents wouldn’t care. 

He drove off with a last wave of the hand and a tight-lipped smile, leaving Hawkins behind for good. 

If his parents had known that, they might have put more effort into the goodbyes. Maybe Steve would have, too. The release he felt as he drove past that green sign was immediate, and he knew what he was leaving behind was only holding him back, but it was also like saying goodbye to a trusted blanket. Suddenly, the comfort of years having grown up there was gone in mere seconds. 

So long King Steve. 

Hello Steve Harrington, finance freshman… kill me now.

Of course, he never wanted to do anything related to business, finance, or anything his father approved with a nod behind his Sunday newspaper, but it was either do as the old man tells ya or no college at all. And without college, what was he to do? Join his dad’s company? Get stuck in the vicious family cycle forever? It felt like a new kind of hell that made college seem like a field of daisies. But even those prospects didn’t stop Steve from fillings the first three hours of his two-day trip with angry thoughts about his upcoming classes and how to get out of them. 

While the thoughts did dissipate over time, they never went away. The idea of just taking a wrong turn and never getting off the road was strong as the first signs for Dashwood University appeared. He could, after all, go anywhere. Nothing was stopping him.

That spirit stayed within him as he took a turn into town. Hawkins never felt further away. As the city changed in scenery to what clearly were lecture halls and dormitories, his heart skipped a beat in fear. It was really happening. And if the old redbrick building weren’t a hint enough of his location, then maybe it was the dozens of cars halted at the side of the roads, overflowing the parking lots. Mothers held their kids tightly while the dads pulled heavy boxes from the trunks. As he drove past a boy being nearly strangled to death in an embrace, Steve was happy to have gone through all that days ago. 

With the number of people roaming around, it nearly took him more time to find a parking spot than the entirety of his drive there. There were also several harsh steps on the break as frisbees flew by, their owners running blindly behind them like dogs in a park. Then there were the other freshmen, looking like lost puppies, followed by the eager campus volunteers who welcomed everybody in and sniffed out the weak to indoctrinate them into whatever cults they were a part of. Steve tried not to get too annoyed too quickly, taking deep breaths and instead focusing on finding location markings. Dunent Hall. All the emails he had been getting on the topic of the introduction week mentioned “Dunent Hall,” in which “room 306 would be his new home for the upcoming year.” Exciting stuff, truly riveting. The excitement was practically trickling out of him. 

Finally, he saw the signs announcing the student housing building. Conveniently located on the far north end of campus, it needed to have the regular commotion that the centre held. The parking lot in front was still dotted with parting families and students hauling boxes, but Steve managed to find a spot for his car almost right next to the entrance. 

The aged red brick looked vibrant in the sun. Flower beds had been planted around the entrance, and Steve was sure they would look wonderful in the springtime, but as the days were only getting shorter, the bush looked a bit neglected and depressed. Putting on his sunglasses against the afternoon glow, he looked around again. The other dorms were spread out in a pentagonal shape. All identical in shape and size, decorated with the school's light blue and yellow colours. The only real difference between the buildings was the once-golden letters above the main doors, stating the name of the dorm halls. Dunent was behind Steve as he looked at the Runter and Vanhov buildings, with Bering on his left and Prudham on his right. He was sure that these names must mean something to someone interested in anything, but to him, it was just gibberish. 

Now, Steve had heard jokes, but when he turned around to head inside, nothing prepared him for the speed at which someone approached him and shoved a pamphlet. 

‘Hi!’ the girl said, eyes practically bulging out of their sockets like she must have been coming off a 10 coffee cup worth of energy high. 

‘Hi,’ Steve replied, slightly taken aback by the girl’s eagerness and large smile. 

‘I’m Constance; welcome to Dashwood!’ She didn’t even allow Steve to respond before asking: ‘Which dorm are you in?’ 

‘Why? Do you plan on murdering me already?’ He chuckled lightly.

‘Ha ha ha’. Her laugh was an exact exaggeration of the syllables, making Steve take yet another step back. ‘No, silly, so I can show you the way.’

‘I’m fine, thanks,’ he tried to stay polite while not seeing the point of being shown around a pentagon where each building had a sign you could read from across the street.

‘Oh, ok, just remember orientation starts tomorrow at 10. You should have received an itinerary in an email with all the details about the fun activities your faculty have planned. And don’t worry about getting lost or late; the pamphlet includes a map of the whole campus and the bus schedule… as well as some handy-dandy discounts and meal deals.’ 

‘Good to know,’ Steve nodded and put the pamphlet in his back pocket.

‘Alrighty then,’ she looked him once over, then looked at the hoard of boxes in his car, ‘well, if you need any help, just let me know. I’ll be here all day.’ 

‘I’ll keep it in mind.’ He couldn’t tell if her offering of help was because she did not think he was strong enough to carry all these boxes up to the third floor, or if she wanted to hang around him longer for something. Either way, he wasn’t interested in any of that.

It took another second of awkward eye contact before Constance cleared her throat, mumbled a goodbye and walked away, leaving Steve with his boxes and the pamphlet.  He waited for her to have approached another poor unprepared soul to take a deep breath in and head for the door of Dunent. 

As it was the unofficial first day of term and people were coming in and out of the building, the doors that usually stayed locked with a keycard were now wide open. Steve let a shirtless guy carrying in, what seemed to be, a mini fridge pass him before walking inside himself. The first thing he saw was an endless beige corridor, with blue doors situated every few feet, some already covered in posters, stickers and whatnot. The air was stuffy, like being hit in the face by a very soft pillow, despite the humming of an AC system could be heard. 

The first door in the hallway was open; someone had stuck a piece of paper with tape, “RECEPTION”, written in black marker. It was a small office, if you could call it that, and barely held enough space for the desk and chair at which the guy was sitting, making Steve very anxious about his dorm room. He knocked on the door frame, and the boy looked up quickly. His glasses slid right off his nose, and he jerked around as if he had just been caught red-handed. And maybe he had, but Steve just didn’t know what exactly.

‘Is this where I can pick up my keys?’ Steve asked. 

‘Uhhh, yes. Yes!’ The boy, now looking younger and younger by the second, but not in a complimentary way, came alive in a jumble of nerves. He shuffled around the desk, searching for the list of names. ‘Name?’

‘Harrington.’ 

‘Ah, yes… it should be… right here. Room 306—I see your roommate has already signed in,’ he commented while handing Steve the sheet of paper, where indeed, a name was scribbled in the same black ink as the “RECEPTION” sign on the door. 

‘Cool,’ Steve mumbled as he noted down his name. ‘What’s he like?’ He handed everything back in exchange for a large white envelope. 

‘Oh, I think he arrived yesterday, and I wasn’t working–’ the kid looked genuinely apologetic as if he had done something wrong, so Steve cut him short.

‘It’s fine, no worries.’ He smiled. He would meet the guy in a few minutes anyway.

The receptionist boy smiled back, without any of the reassurance that Steve tried to bring into the conversation, then looked down at the envelope he had just handed him. ‘In there is your key, by the way. Also, a list of regulations and… stuff.’

‘Cool,’ was there much else to say besides that? ‘Guess I’ll see you around….’ 

‘Arc.’ Arc said. 

‘Arc?’ 

‘Yeah, like the boat.’ Arc shrugged and pushed his glasses back up over the bridge of his nose. 

‘Ok, cool,’ it was his first genuine “cool” ‘I’ll see you around, Arc.’

This was the first genuine smile Arc made. Then he remembered the one thing he was told to say. ‘Welcome in Dunent Hall!’ he yelled as Steve walked through the corridor. 

The stairs to the rest of the building were at the end of the hallway, and as suspected, there was no elevator. 

Not a functional one, at least. 

You’d think they’d fix something like that for the first week of term, where everyone was hauling boxes around the corridors, but no. Instead, it was a tight fit; people were jogging down as others struggled with their heavy things. It took Steve around double the time to climb the stairs as he kept bumping into people ready to fall down the whole flight as their property attempted to tip them off-balance. 

‘Woah, you good?’ Steve asked a pretty blonde as she nearly missed a step she did not see because her eyesight was obstructed by a giant snake plant. 

‘Yeah, thanks.’ She smiled, brushing her hair behind her ear– which might not have been a good idea as she could not hold the plant with only one hand. 

‘Do you need me to carry it for you?’ Steve suggested.

‘Really? That would be great. My arms are killing me.’ She handed over the pot, and Steve put his Dunent envelope between his teeth. Unable to speak, he signed for the girl to lead the way. As luck would have it, she had also been heading to the third floor. They stopped at room 302. She opened the door and showed Steve where to place the plant. Her roommate had not appeared yet, so the room was half empty. The other half was now eaten alive by plants and books; the drabby walls were barely visible underneath the greenery.

‘Thank you so much.’ The girl said as Steve put down the pot next to her bed. ‘I’m Nicky.’ 

‘Steve.’ They shook hands, both now covered in a thin layer of plant soil. ‘Guess we’re almost neighbours. I’m in 306.’

‘Oh, fun!’ Nicky beamed, ‘And hey, if you need any help carrying things up, that was my last trip up and down, so– I mean, it would only be fair, right.’

‘Well, then I’ll leave the heaviest boxes for you.’ He fought the urge to wink, but kept his charming smile up until Nicky said goodbye and closed her door. Maybe college wouldn’t be so hard. 

But he couldn’t hook up with someone living in the same building, let alone 2 doors down. That might just be the stupidest thing he could do, and he had already done some dumb things. So no, Nicky seemed like a great girl, but he would have to control himself. 

So not that easy after all.

The third-floor corridor was smaller than the lower levels, with only 7 doors. 6 dorms and a community hall at the end. From what he could hear, some people were already socialising there, with their laughter and music giving everything a lively atmosphere. Room 306 was next to it, and people waved to Steve as they noticed him through the doorway. He waved back awkwardly as he got his key out of the envelope. 

‘I think Ed’s inside,’ a guy said from the couch in the community room, indicating that Steve could just knock. And, yes, he could, but this was his room. He had the key. Why would he hit?

The roommate situation was not a surprise. Along with his dorm hall and room number, all the emails also talked about how Steve had been paired with some kid named Edward Munson for the roommate scheme. Unfortunately, that was all that was told to him. A name and nothing else, so Steve could only hope the guy wasn’t a dickswab.

Finally, roaming through the millions of papers in the envelope, Steve fished out the key. It slipped into the lock, and Steve suddenly realised that the music had not been coming from the community room but from his dorm. 

Compared to the “RECEPTION”, this room felt gargantuan. The two single beds were set perpendicularly to their respective walls next to a set of desks. The door Steve just walked through was between two large closets, but there was enough shelving space for everything Steve brought with him. 

From how Nicky had decorated her room, he expected a stark contrast between his and Ed’s half, but it seemed his roommate had some trouble with boundaries. The room had fallen victim to a geekplosion. Something resembling an old bed sheet was draped on the wall over his bed; the paint read “Corroded Coffin”,  whatever that was. Around it were other small posters and pictures of bands and movies. Steve recognised most and noticed how there was barely anything around from after the year 1986. An auspicious start…

The shelves were already packed with books and action figures, and more packed boxes littered the ground and clothes (primarily black). Steve hadn’t even realised a person was sitting among the hoard of shirts and jeans lying on the bed, but Edward Munson sat casually back among this mess, strumming on his red guitar. He jumped up at the sight of Steve crossing the threshold. 

‘Finally!’ he tried to cross the room but stumbled over a box, cursing as he nearly fell. But you wouldn’t be able to tell any of that happened by how he composed himself once finally face-to-face with his new roomie. ‘You must be Steven–’ 

‘Steve,’ he corrected. 

‘Right, right. I’m Eddie.’ Eddie extended his hand. ‘Nice to meet you.’

‘You too.’ Steve shook Eddie’s ring-clad hand. It was a solid shake, which he appreciated. 

‘Sorry about the mess,’ Eddie apologised while they parted. ‘I couldn’t find my—stuff and you know how shit is. You get distracted, and it goes from bad to worse, but I’ll clean it up before you bring your stuff in.’ 

Steve didn’t know what to say, so he just nodded. Eddie turned around to put his guitar in its case, and Steve looked at his new roommate. From his years on the basketball and swimming team, Steve immediately thought Eddie must be a runner. He was lean, maybe a bit taller than himself. But the tattoos he was showing off in his black tank top made Steve doubt any kind of track career because there were many. From the quality of the sketches, they seemed homemade, too; some clearly even stick-n-poke. He had his long hair in a ponytail, but half of it was already sticking out messily, the old scrunchie hanging on by a thread. His jeans had chains attached to all possible places, and his belt buckle looked too much like real handcuffs.

Compared to Steve, wearing a clean green shirt and some light jeans, they made quite the pair.

‘I just came to drop this of real quick,’ he dropped the envelope on his bed, ‘i’m gonna go get the rest of my stuff.’

‘Need help with that?’

‘No, I’m good, thanks.’ He had Nicky already, and Steve didn’t feel like soliciting half the campus to haul his shit up the stairs, even if that made his day a bit easier. Besides, he would find greater help in Eddie cleaning up while he was gone. 

Not that there was that much to bring up anyway. Everyone was probably projecting their luggage when offering to help, but Steve had packed everything into two suitcases and four boxes, which weren’t even that heavy. He just didn’t own that much. So after three trips up and down, and something that felt like a minor asthma attack, Steve sat on his bed and noticed Eddie’s look. His brows twisted in thought. 

‘What?’ 

‘This is all your stuff?’ 

‘Yeah?’ Clothes, a computer, some books and sports gear, what else would he need?

Eddie looked him up and down again quickly. Then asked, ‘What’s your major?’ 

‘Finance,’ Steve sighed, already growing tired of that being his answer. ‘Yours?’

‘Not sure.’ Eddie was sitting in his desk chair and spun around. 

‘What do you mean, not sure?’ He must have signed up for something to get here. 

‘Technically, English, but who knows what it will be next month. Fuck, they might kick me out by then.’

‘Not great with following the rules?’ Steve had to stay as far away as possible if this guy was planning on getting expelled. 

‘Not great at anything, really.’ Eddie exhaled deeply, ‘but you know, college is college. It’s already a whole thing to be able to go.’

‘Tell me about it.’ Steve let his head hit his pillow while Eddie kept spinning in his chair. Maybe if he could turn fast enough, he could catch up to his brain, which seemed to wheeze a million miles per second. It was still weird to him to actually sit in a college dorm.

24 HOURS AGO, he still couldn’t believe it; he was driving onto campus to be a student. He had always expected the only way he’d step a foot inside was to piss off some frat bros, Tpeeing their house or something. Now he would actually be in classes with these guys.

‘Boy, you better stop jumping or this car won’t last much longer,’ his uncle muttered. 

‘Sorry,’ Eddie stopped his leg from shaking, but it just moved all the energy in his body to his hands, and he started tapping his fingers on the dashboard, head rocking back and forth as their van approached the campus site. 

‘You sure you’re good, Eds?’ Wayne glanced over at his nephew. 

‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ Eddie blinked, shaking his head. They were now only a few streets away from Dunent Hall. ‘Just a bit nervous, I guess.’ He had that same stomach-gnawing feeling as he had in kindergarten on his first day of school. And then, on the first day of elementary school and in fourth grade, when his family moved, he had to change schools again in seventh grade. The first day of high school, freshmen year, and a year later when he moved in with Wayne across the country and started all over again. Then the feeling crept back when he had to repeat senior year… twice. After all these times, he thought he would get used to it, that the anxiety would come easier, but it hit him as hard as ever. 

‘Try not to throw up in the car, son,’ his uncle said, and Eddie tried to laugh the sour taste in his mouth off. He would have replied but was scared that more than words would come out, and so they drove on in silence. Only once they parked in front of the Dument building did Eddie dare to open his mouth. 

‘Looks worse than I expected.’ To that comment, Wayne smacked him on the back of the head. 

‘Just because you’re right don’t mean you should say it.’ Wayne pointed a stern finger, but a smile was creeping up under his bushy moustache.

‘Sorry!’ Eddie chuckled. ‘I’ll go and–’ Right as he was about to head inside, a girl appeared, practically out of nowhere, startling both uncle and nephew. 

‘Gooood morning!’ she sang. ‘I’m Constance, and it is my pleasure to welcome you to Dashwood University, the home of the Gorgons!’ She cheered haphazardly, most likely because all her energy was stuck in her face. 

‘Gorgons, eh?’ Eddie said, unimpressed. He never cared much for school spirit, so the whole sports team thing wasn’t very appealing, but he knew some people got all hot and bothered by it. 

‘Be sure to get tickets for the first game of the season; it will be a blast,’ Constance beamed, and Eddie would have asked what sport this was supposed to be about if he gave an inch of a fuck. So, he just smiled and nodded like the polite hated-by-Christians boy he was. 

Constance looked at Eddie, and with a face like hers, it was evidently hard to keep her thoughts to her inner self. The judgement was practically being screamed through a megaphone (which she was carrying on a shoulder strap). When she looked back up at him, noticing that he had not stopped looking at her, she squeezed out a smile. 

‘Here is a campus map,’ she held out a pamphlet, ‘with all the important locations and travel information if you need to get around. You can pick up your keys inside, first door to your left.’

‘Thanks.’ Eddie ignored Constance's last glare, not understanding how some people were still so close-minded in the year of our foe and Satan… was it the hair? The tattoos? It couldn’t be the weed; he had showered for an absurdly long time, knowing he would have to spend a whole day in the car with his uncle.  

Speaking of Wayne, he had opened the back of the van, suddenly finding himself very busy with some box, only poking his head out to wave goodbye to this welcome committee. 

It was a cloudy, sleepy Sunday. The air around them felt ready to rain or daze in its aftermath. But the grass smelled of it, and the flower bushes…… were there too. 

‘I’ll go get the keys.’ Eddie said and went in ahead. 

Just like Constance had said, the first door on the left was open and revealed a broom closet for an office. Inside was an older man who looked up before Eddie could say anything. He had a white button-up shirt and pits stained in sweat, and understandably so because Eddie already felt like he was burning after standing there for two seconds.

‘Welcome to Dunent Hall. Name, please.’

‘Munson, Eddie- Edward.’ God, he hated saying his full name. He watched the man pick up a clipboard and review the list of names until he reached the Ms. 

‘Yes, right. Sign here.’ He handed him the clipboard to sign, and while Eddie was doing so, the man reached for a basket of large envelopes and searched through those for “Munson” as well. ‘In this you will find your key, dorm regulations, college regulations, lists of clubs and associations and this month’s cafeteria menu—which you can find on the map that I’m sure constance has given you.’

All Eddie could do was whistle in fascination. ‘You guys sure are organised,’ he tried to joke, but the man just looked at him with a cold and unimpressed stare. ‘Well, thanks, anyway.’ Eddie held up the envelope and walked back out of the building where Wayne was waiting, a box in his hands. 

‘Got 'em?’ he asked, and Eddie showed him the envelope. It took him another five years to sift through all the paper waste to find the key—a small silver key attached to a red label reading “306”. 

Eddie grabbed his guitar case, whipped it around his shoulder, and took another two boxes to follow Wayne into the building. The only people around were just like them, families unpacking, so he doubted it was necessary to lock the van… not that he had anything worth stealing anyway. 

The elevator had a large “out of order” sign stamped on it, so they took the stairs. While Wayne said he was fine, Eddie insisted he takes it slow and not make any more up-and-down trips. They compromised by Wayne giving him a warning look and bringing up two more boxes before resting up in the room as Eddie got the rest of his stuff. Together, it took five trips up the flight of stairs, but all the boxes and bags covered most of the floor space. Wayne took the desk chair while Eddie sat on the bed, choosing the left side of the room.

Running back and forth to the car had occupied him for the time being, but now, sitting there in silence, all the thoughts from the drive were returning. The look Constance gave him… would that be everyone he met around these parts? Would it be like every other school he had been to? What about this roommate of his? Steven? What were the chances that he’d be into all the stuff Eddie was? Would he have to share a room with someone that was either scared of him or thought Eddie was a freak? 

‘Pay them no mind, boy,’ Wayne said out of nowhere, almost as if he could read his nephew’s mind. 

‘For once, I don’t want them to think I don’t belong here.’ Eddie sighed. 

‘Listen here,’ Wayne pushed the chair closer to the bed, ‘you worked as hard, if not harder, as anybody here. You’re here because you deserve it, you understand me, son?’ 

Eddie nodded, but his uncle needed more. ‘Yes sir.’ And then, like when he was a little boy, he jumped into his uncle’s arms for a tight embrace, possibly knocking the air out of the man’s lungs.

‘I’m proud of you boy.’ Wayne wrapped his arms around him. ‘Always have, always will be.’ 

‘Even when I accidentally set the theater room on fire?’ 

‘Boy–’ Wayne warned. 

‘Right, sorry.’ He pulled back into the hug. His uncle smelled of driftwood and wind. No matter how long of a drive or shift at the plant they had behind them, the smell of home never left. And now Eddie had to say goodbye to it. To his home, to his uncle. He would be entirely on his own again. 

‘Alright, that’s enough of the good stuff, Eds,’ Wayne tapped him on the back, and the two got up. His uncle’s arm remained on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly. ‘Really proud of you.’

‘Thanks.’ Eddie smiled, pushing back any emotions. He didn’t want his last moments with his uncle to be filled with tears. 

‘And you know, your ma would be too.’ 

‘What about good ol’ pops?’ Eddie snickered. 

‘Damn him to Hell.’ Wayne spit and Eddie gasped half-jokingly. He had expected precisely that kind of reaction, but he had never heard his uncle use the big H word. 

‘Maybe it’s good I’m leaving, man, clearly I’m not a good influence on you.’ Eddie pulled him back into one last hug, but after that, it was time for Wayne to go. It was hard to say goodbye, though, so Eddie ended up walking back to the car, and didn’t head inside until the car disappeared around the corner. It felt silly, and he had never imagined himself getting so emotional over farewells, and yet, as he sludged his step up the stairs, tears pricked at the corner of his eyes.

The room looked tiny and giant at the same time. Compared to his old room, it must have been three times the size, but looking at all his stuff in boxes, Wayne’s writing on all of them, categorising his belongings, it felt dizzying. This is where everything starts. The great adventure.

The sour taste in his mouth came back. 

‘Fuck.’ He needed to relax. Like, right now. And luckily, Eddie knew precisely how. 

If only he remembered where he had packed it. Somewhere at the bottom of one of the boxes, he still could retell. At the bottom, if his uncle opened it up, the weed wouldn’t be front and centre. Also, to cover up the smell a bit. 

He went through three boxes before finding the incense, which he had thought was a good sign, but alas. Apparently, he had stashed the stash in one of his duffel bags. He opened the window, lit the incense stick and was about to light a blunt when a voice came out from the doorway. 

‘Ooh, wouldn’t do that if I were you.’ 

‘Hmm?’ with the joint between his lips, Eddie looked towards the door, where a guy with a buzzcut was standing, leaning into his room with his hands on the doorframe.

‘Smoking is a big no-no inside these buildings. It’s like rule one on all the regulations. Highlighted in italics and bold font.’ He had a slight accent, but from his voice, he sounded just as annoyed about the rule as Eddie felt when he heard it. 

‘Well, there goes my afternoon.’ He put the blunt back in its little tin box. ‘But thanks for the heads up, man.’

‘Yeah, sure thing.’ the guy glanced around him, ‘guess we’re across neighbours then.’ 

‘Oh, nice.’ Eddie wanted to slide his chair out towards the door, but it was undoable with all hix boxes lying around. So finally, defeated by the cardboard, he got up. 

‘I’m Eddie.’ 

‘Ved, but call me Vader.’ Ved introduced himself.

‘That might just be the stupidest self-proclaimed nickname I’ve ever heard.’ Eddie laughed. ‘I love it.’ So maybe college wouldn’t be that hard after all. 

Vader looked into the room, ‘making yourself at home already, I see?’ You would definitely think so by the state of the dorm. Throughout his search for the weed, Eddie had thrown everything in the boxes around. The ground was covered in his clothes. ‘No roommate?’ 

‘I’ll clean it up before he gets here.’ Eddie shrugged it off. The cleaning before the roommate arrived consisted of scooping everything from the ground into his arms and dropping it on the bed. The plan after that was to start putting things away into the closet, but shit, what was he to do when Vader invited him and the rest of the third-floor early arrivals to a small party at his place. That way, in 24 hours, Eddie managed to ransack not one but two rooms. The beer was provided for (Vader knew how to make friends quickly), and Eddie provided the music with his speakers. The worst of beats their childhood had gifted them boomed through the entire night.

Around 2 am, Eddie was in deep need of a smoke. He excused himself and found his way up the stairs onto the roof. A previous like-minded person had left a set of beach chairs out there, bleached from the sun and slightly rusted from the rain but perfect for their purpose. No smoking in the buildings. No one said anything about on top of the buildings. He lit the joint and sucked in deeply, dropping into the chair. The bitterness filled his throat delightfully. 

Back home, millions of stars looked back down at him when he looked up at the sky. Here, among the street lights and the dozens of small windows lit up in a rainbow of LED, he saw around 3 bright spots above him. The moon was merely a sliver. 

Eddie could have quickly fallen asleep right then, and maybe he even had, but Vader burst through the door and hauled him back in. 

‘You know it’s like freezing out there, right?’ he said, pointing out Eddie was only wearing a thin tank top and ripped jeans. 

‘I’ve had worse.’ That was all that Eddie said, giggling. They walked downstairs and said goodnight at their doors. 

When he woke up the following day, his entire body hurt in what could only be dehydration. But the first thing Eddie did instead, was turn on some music. He couldn’t do the silence anymore. It was deafening. 

The clothes were still everywhere too, and he kept telling himself to get it cleaned up, but somehow found himself putting away everything but that. And then, of course, he got tired and needed a break from all the unpacking. The music faded into the background, so Eddie pulled out his guitar to strum along. It was the next best thing to weed.

And that’s when Steve Harrington walked in. 

He was precisely what Eddie imagined a “Steve Harrington” to look like. Neatly styled hair, perfectly fitted clothes, the shock on his face at the sight of Eddie. And then there he was, in his clothes from last night, in a mess of a room. He probably still smelled of booze and weed as he had had no breakfast or a shower. Great first impression. 

The guy came in with half the stuff Eddie had brought, and he couldn’t tell if that meant Steve was even poorer or filthy rich. 

After that short conversation, where they learned nothing about each other, things seemed to hit a dead end. They both kept to their own halves of the room, like prison cellmates, except without the murderous tendencies (yet). And for the first hour, Eddie thought that might be it. After that, they would never speak to each other again except when one had something to complain about the other. 

Then after that hour, he searched for some kind of reason to talk to him, but each attempt felt dumb, and so Eddie fell into silence again. Would it have helped if he knew Steve was in the same boat? Looking for something to start a conversation again, but too awkward to actually speak. Because what do you say to a guy you just met and already living with?

Their saving grace was the sound of knuckles against the door.

‘It’s open!’ they both shouted out at the same time. Vader poked his head in. 

‘Hey, I was just wondering if you guys would want to get some food?’ He directed the suggestion more towards Eddie but then looked over at Steve. ‘I’m Vader, 305.’ 

‘Steve.’

‘Pleasure,’ Vader turned back to Eddie. ‘So what do you say? I’m calling in on everybody. A bit of a team-building, you know?’ 

‘Uhh, yeah, sure why not? Steve?’ 

‘Sure.’ He wasn’t sure if he was being invited, and a group activity concerning the entire floor felt a bit ridiculous, but what else would he do around here? 

‘Ok, cool.’ Vader smiled and closed the door behind him. They could hear his footsteps approaching door 304 and knocking like he had just done for them. 

There was a beat of silence in room 306 before Steve asked: ‘What kind of a name is Vader?’ 

‘Beats me, man. The guy’s crazy.’ But, they both had felt it as soon as they stepped into the building, “crazy” seemed to be a requirement for the inhabitants of Dunent Hall.

the end.

thank you so much for reading!! if you want more of where this came from, check out my masterlist.

and please support your (not so) local creators by liking AND reblogging.

I would love to know what you thought of the story, so please consider leaving a comment, or maybe an ask or even an anonymous review ;P

you are also more than welcome to join the taglist. right here.

taglist:

@spiderrrling @theglitterymess @dorianelizabeth @theletterhart @niyahwhoreworld @fopdoodle1624 @pastel-abyss-x @ghoulsgraveyard @prettytoxix @lovesickollie @xbreezymeadowsx @ssanjuniperoo @nxrdamp @meaganjm @yourmommilf @mischiefmanagers @greendinosaursocks13 @capybergara @brother-lauren @h0sh1verse @ghostlyreads @croweaterr @ladyapplejackdnd @bilesxbilinskixlahey @lizzylynch1 @liltimmyst @hellfire-state-of-mind @escape-in-time-x @miscelaa @sweetpeapod @the-a-word-2214 @eddiemunsonbby @mydearzero @overthewhiteclouds @wroteclassicaly @groupies-do-it-better @celestialsxturn @hoe4eddiemunson @inanausomewhere @scoops-harrington @fluffyharrington @billyhargrovesprincess @annikin-im-panicin @kaitieskidmore1 @yesv01 @princess-aries @m4riesworld @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom

[betterbooksandthings]

My top 6 dimension 20 shows ranked with little to no context

So all you DnD dropout girlies know dimension 20 has some excellent excellent content. I started my actual play watching with D20 so I am, of course, biased, but I just prefer watching something that well edited with a range of play styles and game familiarity. The fact that some of the tables have players who have played for decades and others who are starting their first game is really great. The diverse, laugh-out-loud but somehow also make-you-want-to-cry game play is just unmatched. So, I decided to be moderately unhinged this Sunday afternoon and rank my favorite dimension 20 shows as of February 2023. 

1. A Court of Fey and Flowers: Listen I was promised Bridgeton in the feywilds and Aabria Iyengar delivered. The epistolary phase! My ace pillar boy really doing the most. The “I’m taking my suitcase out on a walk.” Not to mention the fact that Jeremy Renner is an NPC. 

2. The Seven: I am nothing if not chaotic and I did, in fact, start my D20 watching with this show. The horse-girl energy was giving what it needed to give. The teamwork was excellent. I also love them. So there. 

3. The Neverafter: As a medieval-early modern girly with a hunger for oral tradition and retellings, this show is my catnip. It is at number three because we are only halfway through the season, but I am having a great time. Every time Emily or Siobhan light up at myth recognition, I too am excited. Also, death is everywhere so that’s a nice touch. 

4. Misfits and Magic: If I want to recommend someone watch a manageably small campaign this is what I recommend. All the PCs know how to craft the worst person to go to wizard school, which is glorious. Plus it is non-TERF wizard school content which we always appreciate in fandom spaces. Of course, you should also watch the holiday special, but yes, Aabria is an excellent GM once again.

5. A Starstruck Odyssey: It’s a campaign based on Elaine Lee’s before it’s time graphic novel series. Of course, this is Brennan (give the monster a cookie) Lee Mulligan’s mother and their interviews explain so much about him as a person. The world-building, character, and story arcs are impeccable. See you in the stars forever and always. 

6. Fantasy High: I gotta include an oldie but a goodie. Will never be over watching this group work through teen adventurer problems. But also, unmatched NPCs. Bill Seacaster! Cathilda Ceíli! Wilma and Digby Thistlespring! Sklonda Gukgak! Our yogurt icon Gilear Faeth! Ayda Aguefort! All very good people who live rent-free in my mind. 

So I hope this moderately chaotic list was, if nothing else, fun to read. Stay nerdy intrepid heroes! 

[gamylost]

The weekend and holidays are over

Saturday and Sunday 4&5 November 2023

This weekend I :

• catch-up on my philosophy classes

• catch-up on my ethics classes

• did some exercise for my computer science classes

• read lesson 4 (on how to teach maths)

• did some research for my study case on written production

• Organisation of my next 2 months with notion

• and rested

That was the last day of « vacation » No more real holiday until the 30/12/2023 …

Tomorrow's schedule: Zoom class at 4 a.m for online university, followed by a day at work (a kindergarten/ elementary school) from 8 a.m to 6 p.m.the hardest period is here with all the assignments and exam coming up while working. Feeling a bit behind, I really have to finish my assignments, other students already have finished their assignments, while an other student dropout.. but it’s gonna be alright I’m doing it at my own pace, no need to rush, I’ve got this.

And you’ve got this whatever you’re going through !

[agirlwiththoughtsandnegativity]

sunday night.

a short little story that kinda sounds like rambling but I attempted to attach some meaning to it??

On Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, I’m dead. Really, all you could find was the empty shell of me. On Sunday nights, I’m alive. That’s when me and Olly go out to his backyard and sit in the treehouse or on the swing sets.

Mom gets mad because I have school the next day, but we always stay out way past dark anyways. Sometimes, his older brother Micheal will come out and sit beside us. He’ll smoke a cigarette and mostly ask us about 5th grade and how we like our teachers. I don’t think Mom knows about it though, because she thinks Micheal is a bad influence. 

One time, she came home from dropping off a pie at Olly’s house, and she made an over exaggerated fake cough. She said that they should get that college dropout an apartment because he makes their whole house stink of cigarettes.

I know she was talking about Micheal, because both Olly’s Mom and Dad have finished college. I know that because they’re both doctors. Another reason it couldn’t be them is because they both think smoking is bad and wouldn’t do it. It can’t be Olly, because he’s in fifth grade, with me.

Olly doesn’t think Micheal is a bad influence. He calls him Mikey and stares at him with stars in his eyes, like he’s the best role model ever. Sometimes I think he is, because he has an awesome red truck. Having a red truck makes you pretty great in my opinion.

Today, Olly and I sit on the swings, me on the left and him on the right. We talk about our homework, about the new kid in our class. We talk about toys, about shows we saw on television.

I know all that we do talk about. Things that don’t really matter. I know it’s because we don’t want to talk about the things that do.

Like how my mom barely makes enough money for me to get new clothes. Olly is one of the only kids at school who doesn’t say stuff about the holes in my jeans or the tightness of my shirts.

Olly’s parents make lots of money, but I think they hate each other. They’re usually fighting, even I can hear it. I never say anything about it, but I know Olly knows that I can tell.

I don’t know why people would get married if they don’t like each other. My dad died and my mom’s been heartbroken ever since, so I think they liked each other. Even though one time I told grandma that my friend’s parents fight a lot, she said my parents used to too. Grandma said my mom’s regret heightened her grief. I’m not sure what that means, but I don’t fully believe my Mom and Dad used to fight a lot, even though I never knew my Dad.

I walk through the halls every night on the way to my room, and my mom always has her door cracked open. Usually she’s crying over Dad’s picture, or crying on her bed. I used to try to help, to try to comfort her, but I realized I couldn’t, so now I just walk past to my room.

Sunday night I never see Mom crying. Sunday night is always just me and Olly, and no tears or dead parents or fighting parents or pants with holes. Sometimes people with cigarettes and lost dreams, but never does it cross into the real world. Sunday night is always perfect, because it’s when we can pretend our lives are perfect.

[madsmilfelsen]

how do you feel about beverly keane? i hate her but at the same time there's something about her devotion..... we need more bev/father john fics

it’s 6:59 am and this hit my inbox 4 seconds ago but I screamed! I adore Beverly Keane’s character— she’s awful and righteous and commanding, a truly fantastic lil wool cape wearing villain demonstrating how women can wield religion just as harmfully as men. I haven’t written any Bev/John but I did think she would make a terrifying mother and gave her a daughter to poison in sunday school dropout (mainly to be gross but so I could keep writing in 2nd pov too), which the very talented @abeadofpoison wrote an accompanying piece— soft as snow (but warm inside)

There are two Beverly/Father John fics I know off the top of my head—

Lighthouse of God by @teeth-ing which I can’t find but would eat up all over again at first opportunity

It always felt like a sin by WastelandBabesandWildeLoves (listen……… Bev might be 16 while the Monsignor is in his fifties? My bookmark is private so I must be right lmao but the characterization for that snooty devious lil brat getting what she wants is so so good and he makes her ride it in the confession booth like c’mon it’s madsmilfelsen bait)

[unsleepingtales]

Vulture Dimension Time I’ve got my ice cream let’s do this it’s our time it’s our year

Everyone’s outfit is Fantastic today

Some good ol fashioned summer fun

The vulture dimension is great right

They’re actually doing this. I keep thinking oh they’ll just do a normal episode but no they’re fully gonna do this but for however long it takes

That’s such a fair assumption gorgug. I would also think I had died.

Why did you do this to yourselves

‘It’s not gonna work any other way than the way I want it to’ this is so Brennan’s revenge

All that buildup <3

Trans joke trans joke

From the vibe they all had. Absolutely.

Love gorgug trying to do plot things in the vulture dimension

Oh Zac is GONE

Are these real

HOMEBREW ALERT: Feather of the Vulture King: Breaking this oily feather summons 1d4 vultures. They are not under your command.

I want these items so badly.

Cassandra glowed from that??

Oooh new battle board camera angle!!

It’s not yesterday! What a good motivational statement.

Devastating.

God he hit her for 20 dmg off a cantrip and she did 22 from a 5th level spell that really is devastating

Woooo hit himmm

Get off my lawn!

Gorgug has So much to be mad about here

(Brennan rolling too many dice)

One of my favorite things about dropout are the captions <3

Riz giving his silvery barbs advantage to Fabian after the bardic/least favorite friend exchange is. I’m thinking and feeling things.

Nat 20 luck check is incredible

Ally.

THIRTY NINE

NICELY DONE FABIAN

So… what happens at school now?

Go homeeeee get out of my house

What are you doing baby girl

Why are you doing this

Emily you HAVE a nose piercing. It’s not a septum but cmon.

DO YOU HAVE A WARRANT

Gorgug is so done I love him so fucking much

I am the exact same way when it’s been too long a day with too many things.

GET HIS COP ASS GORGUG

Oh the identify spell has a radio filter on now that’s fun

What’s threatening the existence of the school at the folk festival?

Riz art hiiiiiii

Siobhan’s outfit is so great

Red light??

Copperlilly caterpillar <3

Three cheers for stage tech arcana.

Like the 24 point stars from the book?????

Enchantment effect?

OH MY GOD

Rage effect. Fucking hell.

I so wish I could hear about spells being cast through concerts without thinking of uhv. Unfortunately I cannot.

Guys. Guys.

No! Eat it now! Don’t give him hot sauce mom!

Just fun videos to look back on

Nobody noticed Zac saying Kristen the rats can’t vote and that’s criminal bc it was SO funny

He frenched the vulture king

How good can a rat’s history check possibly beeeee

Ooooh Lucy was doing necromancy?

NO

There’s definitely not a rat world under the school 💀

Awwwww

Spot needs to be the next d20 plushie

Oh god

Oh nooooo

Gross

RIP Spot 💔

THAT TRAILER EDIT WAS SO CLEAN

ALSO WHAT THE FUCK THOUGH

She died so recently ok

Add it to the fucking pile

Fig’s dad is an archdevil I think she can afford wizard class

HELLO????

An unholy last rites. That’s so fucked.

Oh SHIT okay

Did Lucy’s party turn on her?

Holy shit that’s intense

Here there be giants?

Christ

Work a miracle Kristen

Who’s the fuckin turncoat man

God they’re so good at being teenagers

Kristen just literally saved someone’s soul. Good lord.

Saint Kristen Applebees.

Oh my god.

Holy shit! Nice job Kristen!

I hope they can reach Cassandra somehow. I honestly can’t tell if the resolution of this arc is letting them go or finding them through work and either one is beautiful but I love Cassandra and I want them to be okay.

Where do you live 😭

Oh godddd

They’re being really inconsistent with the days of the week and I can’t tell if it’s on purpose time quangle/exhaustion stuff or if it’s just a mistake. Like, the party was on a Friday night and then the next day was Sunday. The festival was on a weekend day and then the next day was also a Saturday. It’s bugging me.

Yeesh.

DID THE DIRT MAKE HIM MAD (am I overthinking this)

Consigliere of the geeks

Sklondaaaaaa

Devastating

I’m unbelievably wealthy and me and my friends just discovered the site of a double homicide #justgirlythings

Fabian is taking care of them and I love him so much for it

Please please please

YAYYYY PORTENT

Oh I just read such a nice fic about Adaine studying barbarian stuff with Gorgug <3

HE CAN DO THIS

Teddy bear of helpfulness holds concentration, would he be able to use that whole raging?

Gorgug Thistlespring my BELOVED

I felt weird about being mad 😭😭

But he doesn’t burn and pillage and murder! That’s not how the bad kids adventure

God porter annoys me

WOOOOOOO GET THAT MCAT

The Last Stand exam

oh god if Kristen gets moved to pass/fail what happens to the others

Oh fuck Gorgug

RIZZZZZ

HES THE ONLY ONE ALLOWED TO TAKE STRESS FOR OTHERS

Henry encouraging gorgug to build a time machine?

Oh thank god he’s still on the owlbears

I think I have to lie down. He’s me.

The fact that their relationships with their parents are suffering because of this is fucking heartbreaking

Bitch fuck all the way off ok

It’s fine it’s all fine everything’s peachy I love my life 🥲

Awwww is Aelwyn gonna visit Adaine at work

ALSO Cait May said Aelwyn’s art was based on her mini. Which means we’re gonna see an Aelwyn mini. Which I’m so excited for.

Glad to see Aelwyn is still Aelwyn

Oh nooo

CLAMFACE CUNTHEAD

CLAMHEAD CUNTFACE

What in the worldddddd

COTTONCANDY BITCHFUCK

Adaine Abernant and Siobhan Thompson I love you so so much

Yeah what does happen if Gorgug is affected by the rage magic.

It’s our time! It’s our year!

[heelhausen]

👀 trick or treat??

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Max hissed, with all the venom of a king cobra.

“This is your plan? The Crash Test Dumbass? The art-school dropout? The least popular nepo baby on this fucking roster? When you promised me a Disney-style white knight, I didn’t realize you meant a Disney animation reject.”

His outburst made the man in question look up from his cintiq for a moment. He cocked his head to the side, regarding the two Maxes with all the interest of an ancient hunting dog abruptly awoken from a Sunday afternoon nap before turning back to his work.

((fic or treat: send me an ask to get an excerpt from a current wip!))

[goldendiie]

I think it would be so beautiful if Sarges family disapproves of Fillmore, not because he's gay but come on sarge you can do better then a dirty hippie!

He's like the rebellious boyfriend dads have nightmares about. Drugs,liberal,dropout, tattoos

Sarges dad was probably semi relieved he would never have to worry about that with two sons until he met Fillmore

Thomas Jones was proud of his sons. They were both the spitting image of their mother, but they grew up to mirror their father most: they played football through high school, both joined the army at eighteen, and had created stellar careers for themselves in the years since. Wade (technically the oldest, but only by two minutes) had become a lineman since his discharge; Willie stayed in the service well into his twenties, after which he had opened a business.

There was some duality in there: Tom was certainly proud of his boys, but that would not stop him from questioning their decisions.

And, good Lord, he had a lot to say when he met Willie’s partner. Tom was hardly surprised that his son was queer (it had been mighty suspicious when he’d “quit” the army, back in ’67), and he had since taken the time to make his peace with it. That was not his issue.

His issue was with the type of man that his son had ended up with.

Willie had been clearly nervous about introducing them, and rightfully so. “Dad, uh…” he stammered, and failed to make eye contact as he spoke. “This is Fillmore.”

There was the first issue. His name. Fillmore. He had to imagine that the boy had been given a completely innocuous first name that he had rejected, in favor of renaming himself after a psychedelic hive of hippies. It certainly matched his overgrown hair, and beads, and tattoos, and obnoxious crystal jewelry.

Tom shook the boy’s hand, taking notice of the rings that adorned his fingers. “Thomas Jones,” he introduced himself. “Pleasure.”

(He’ll admit, the kid had a firm handshake.) “Good to meet you,” Fillmore said. He smiled hazily.

Then came the normal fatherly questions that Tom felt obligated to ask. How old are you? Where are you from? What school did you go to? What do you do for a living?

Fillmore was twenty-one, born in New York; he came from old money, but he’d been kicked out and cut off completely. He’d gone to Berkeley (obviously) for three semesters, before dropping out and opening a home distillery.

In all, Thomas Jones was unimpressed.

Actually, that was an understatement. He was downright disapproving.

He felt almost as though he was meant to sit on his front porch, shotgun in his lap. It wasn’t that Willie needed protecting, but something about the whole situation ignited his fatherly instincts. He didn’t like a damn thing about his son spending so much time with someone like that.

Tom would corner his son, around six hours before he and that Haight-freak were set to return to Arizona. He had been sitting in the living room, watching the Sunday afternoon Browns game on the television set.

“Who’s winning?” Tom asked, dropping into an armchair beside his son.

“Bears,” Willie scoffed.

“Shame.” Tom sighed, settling in. “Where’s your friend?”

“Oh, uh…” Willie got that avoidant look in his eye, once again. “Sarah and Wade took him around town.”

“Good, good.” Tom nodded shortly.

“Dad—”

“No, no,” Tom interrupted. “I’ll be frank with you, son—I just don’t understand what you see in him.”

Willie did not respond. He stared rather pointedly at the television in front of them; on screen, the Browns scored a first down. He crossed his arms over his chest, and Tom was reminded of the teenager he once was.

“Look,” Tom said, sighing, “I understand how difficult it must have been to make the decision to bring him ‘round, in the first place.” He leaned forward in his armchair. “But, as your father, I am concerned that this is all some strange rebellious phase.”

Willie did not say anything. The grandfather clock chimed, and the Browns made another play.

“I want you to be honest with me,” Tom said, “Are you really happy with him?”

Willie (finally) looked back at him. “You need to stop with all this rebellion bullshit,” he said. “You don’t have to like him, but we are staying together. That’s final.”

Tom considered making a comment about his son’s disrespectful behavior, but quickly disregarded it. Clearly, he’d been spending too much time around that damn hippie; if nothing else, the conversation had only cemented his thoughts.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Tom said. He reiterated, “Are you happy?”

Willie replied, flat: “Yes.”

“Good.” Tom leaned back in his seat, somewhat wishing that he hadn’t started the conversation in the first place. “That’s all I’m worried about.”

Willie shook his head, un-crossing and re-crossing his arms.

Tom considered it something of a peace offering as he spoke cordially about homemade moonshine with the hippie, that afternoon at supper. He proved to be smart enough to hold his own, defending his brews and even offering to send a shipment to the Jones household, free of charge.

It became hard to ignore the doting look in his son’s eye. It was clear that he had meant it: regardless of how rebellious and anti-establishment Fillmore was, Willie was somehow happy with him.

Maybe there was some duality in there, too: Tom did not have to approve, but his son could be completely happy with a college-dropout-communist-hippie.

(Emphasis on not approving, though.)

[rking200]

I can't believe it's Sunday again already! We've got a new chapter of The Red Room for you all to enjoy. Please give @connor-sent-by-cyberlife some love for the wonderful render in this chapter (as well as all the hard work they've put in on all the renders thus far!!)

The Red Room (45158 words) by rking200 Chapters: 7/? Fandom: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor Characters: Hank Anderson, Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Original Chloe | RT600, Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Elijah Kamski Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, Stalking, Vomiting, Suicidal Thoughts, Top Hank Anderson, Bottom Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Connor is a Mess (Detroit: Become Human), Hank Anderson is Bad at Feelings, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Missing Persons, Abduction, Manipulation, Death Threats, Mental Health Issues, Zlatko didn't do it, POV Alternating, Slow Burn, Sex at some point Summary: Connor Stern is a law school dropout who dreams of making it big in the music industry. He manages to get into a special apprenticeship program with the musical genius Elijah Kamski and, despite working two jobs and struggling to stay afloat, feels like his dream is finally within his grasp. When Hank Anderson stumbles into the lounge Connor performs at, The Red Room, he becomes entranced with him. As Hank falls in love with Connor's voice, he ends up entangled with conflicting emotions and delicate situations. Slowly, his nights are filled with Connor's songs and his closeness, even if he feels he doesn't deserve it. They reach several roadblocks along the way of getting closer, some more dangerous than others. A collaboration written alongside Connor-sent-by-Cyberlife for the Reverse Big Bang 2024, told with a POV alternating between Hank and Connor. Chapters added weekly.

[jumblejen]

We Were Always Going to End Up Together

Suptober 22, Day 24: Fish

On AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42237885/chapters/115890310

(Or read from the beginning: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42237885/chapters/106051008)

Sunday was supposed to be a fun day, a nice end to Dean’s birthday celebrations. Instead he felt sick to his stomach with tension, Sam’s words chasing around and around in his head. Dean didn’t understand. Not really. He’d done everything he could to make sure Sammy had what he needed growing up. Dean had made sure that Sammy was okay his whole life, even if it meant Dean went without. After all, Dean knew his one role in life was to make sure Sam was taken care of. God knew his dad wasn’t going to do it in any sort of reliable fashion. After Sam was school-age, Dean was lucky if Dad remembered he had two boys to take care of more than once or twice a month. Those were lean, unpredictable years for the Winchester boys.

It helped when Bobby came into their lives, even if Dad dragged them all around the country most of the time. At least they started coming back here more often, where no matter what the circumstances, Bobby found a way to be sure they were both taken care of. It was some of the only times Dean could remember where he didn’t have to do all the thinking and planning. And he never had to worry about what to do once the money ran out and the food stores got low.

There was something to what Sam said, though. Dean had to admit that Sam had always been smarter than him, been better at setting goals to make sure he had the life he wanted, better at school, better at life. Dean was never good at any of that. Having real goals, wanting things. It was dangerous to want things in Dean’s experience. Life was way too good at taking them away. He’d done what he had to to keep Sam fed and clothed when Dad couldn’t be bothered. When they’d grown up, Dean had paid for Sam’s schooling and his own and Dad’s debts. He'd worked his ass off just to keep their little family unit together. But Sammy still saw him as some high school dropout who couldn’t keep his life together. Sam was always going to see Dean that way. Maybe he always had. Maybe Sam was right.

“Dean,” Cas’ rough voice interrupted Dean’s endless thoughts.

With creaking muscles, Dean turned his head towards Cas, realizing he must have been sitting here on the couch much longer than he’d thought. “Hey.”

“I’m sorry today was… well. I’m sorry, Dean.”

“Not your fault,” croaked Dean, voice thick. “I shoulda told him I was thinking of leaving. You know, so it wasn’t such a shock.”

Cas frowned, his expression closed and tight. “No.”

“No?”

“I am not going to sit here and let you blame yourself for your brother being an assbutt.”

“C’mon Cas. I know I could have done this better, is all.”

“Dean.”

“Me getting the gig with Adler meant a lot to Sam. I should have…”

“NO!” Cas stood up in his agitation, running hands through his already unruly hair. “Stop Dean. Please. Just stop.” “What?”

“You don’t hear yourself?”

Dean looked at the floor, suddenly fascinated with the carpet in Cas’ living room.

“Sam was wrong. Sam. Was. Wrong.”

“But Cas, he…”

“He didn’t listen to you! He didn’t even try to.”

Dean looked up at Cas, blue eyes blazing in a way that made Dean think of avenging angels. “It’s just how he is.”

“Yes. It’s how he is. And you shouldn’t let him get away with it.”

“Get away with what?”

“Treating you so poorly.”

Dean chewed his lower lip in thought. “You really think he treats me bad?”

Cas sat down next to Dean again, rubbing Dean’s back in soothing circles. “I do Dean. For whatever reason, he can’t seem to see what an amazing person you are.”

“What’s so amazing about being a unemployed high school dropout?” Dean didn’t miss the way the circles momentarily stop, or the deep breath Cas took before speaking.

“I’m not going to argue about the inaccuracy and irrelevance of that statement,” Cas said finally. “Do you really not see how unique you are? How caring? How generous?”

Dean blushed and resumed looking at the carpet. Maybe he should vacuum later.

“You are quick to help others, even when it’s difficult. You are always willing to lend a hand or an ear to a friend. You make sure everyone is taken care of, even if it means sacrifice for you. You are incredibly kind and thoughtful.”

Dean’s face got even hotter.

“Dean. I love you. I love you for being such a generous and giving person. I love you for how much you care about everyone in your life. You make me want to be a more caring person.”

Dean felt hot tears begin to trail down his cheeks; his chest felt cracked open.

“Please look at me, Dean.”

Mustering his strength, Dean raised his head and looked Cas in the eyes. Blue eyes that swam with their own tears.

“I love you. I wish you had been raised by a family who saw how special you are. But I won’t let you forget who you really are as long as we’re together.”

“How do you do that?” choked out Dean.

“Do what?”

Dean took in a shuddering breath. “See me. How do you look at the same things everyone else is looking at and see me?”

Cas smiled, causing the tears to fall. “Because I love you.”

Dean threw himself into Cas’ arms, settling into their solid warmth as the tears began to fall in earnest. He swore he’d cried more since he met Cas than in the whole rest of his life put together. Somehow that sounded good, not like a warning. It felt like coming home to be able to get it all out in his lover’s arms.

Tears turned to sniffles, turned to uneven breaths before Dean pulled away from the embrace. He met Cas’ eyes and they gave each other watery smiles that turned into goofy grins and relieved huffs of laughter.

“Feel better?” asked Cas.

“A little,” admitted Dean. “Still can’t believe he wouldn’t at least listen to what I had to say. Or, you know, fake being happy for me.”

“I don’t think me being there helped.”

“Why do you say that?”

Cas hesitated. “I don’t think Sam likes me very much.”

“He hasn’t said anything.”

“I think Eileen has been encouraging him not to. But he sees me, no job, we met in a haunted corn maze, nothing about me is his kind of normal.”

“His kind of normal is too boring.”

Cas smiled. “I’m glad you think so.”

“Well, I told you before, I wasn’t gonna let him screw up our relationship and I meant it. And now that he couldn’t even just shut up long enough to hear my news? Screw this. I’m done running after him to try to get him to be okay with my choices.”

“I know how hard that is for you.”

“Yeah, he’s my brother. And he’ll always be my brother. And if he called me right now, even as pissed as I still am at him, I’d help him out. Because he’s family. But it don’t mean he gets a blanket pass anymore.”

Cas smiled softly at Dean. “Okay.”

“’Cause I love you too. And I don’t want him to ruin my week off. I have no responsibilities until I start with Bobby and after dealing with Adler, I need a real break. No way does Sam’s hissy fit get to ruin that.”

“Oh how shall we pass the time.” Cas smiled wickedly at Dean.

“Plenty of time for all that. But I was thinking…Cas. Do you know how to fish?”

Cas looked at Dean blankly. “No?”

“Great! I’ll teach you.”

“Can we go fishing in January? Isn’t everything frozen over?”

“Well, yeah. Will you let me teach you this summer?”

Cas looked at Dean quizzically, his head tilted to the side. “Sure? Dean. What does what I said have to do with fishing?”

“Nothing at all,” said Dean as he stood up and looked down into blue, blue eyes. “But I meant to ask you a couple of weeks ago and forgot.”

“You’re a little all over the place Dean.”

“Yeah. It’s been a weird day and quite the week. But the best part…” Dean leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Cas’ lips. “Is that I’m here with you.”

Cas smiled against Dean’s lips. “I know how we can still fish.”

“I’m not going ice fishing, Cas.”

Several hours later, their clothes scattered across the living room, Dean was down to his boxers and socks, while Cas sat with just his shirt on, the tails covering up the parts Dean was currently most interested in.

“Do you have any kings?” rumbled Cas.

Dean glanced at his remaining card, despite knowing exactly what was in his hand. “Go fish. Do you have any queens?”

Cas threw down the queen of hearts on the table and Dean whooped as he put his own queen down. He’d won again. Cas looked up slowly, his hands making quick work of the buttons on his shirt. He shrugged out of the material and then he sat there bare, completely naked in front of Dean. Dean didn’t waste any time before pouncing, his last solid thought an appreciation for the previously untried Strip Go Fish.