#the lunchroom tapes

[zilabee]

- The first time I watched Get Back (which is the only other time I've watched Get Back) this was the day where I realised how much a mish mash mess the entire editing of it was, because obviously I know the tapes of day eight much better than the tapes of other days. (on account of it being the day where Paul and John use George as nothing but an excuse to talk about their own broken up feelings and confused affections.)

- Wonderfully, @inspiteallthedanger and @get-back-homeward posted about the cuts and snips in the lunchroom tapes, and how frustrating and impossible it all is, here. So I don't have to kill myself trying to explain how WEIRD the resulting 'conversation' Peter Jackson came up with is. What a strange strange thing he did.

- I'm aware that the art of documentary is cutting bits out, and I know they couldn't put it all in. But I do find it tiring. Even not lunchtime, but all the conversations, all the days. I just want to know what they look like at the appropriate points without having to double guess and think and disregard. We're not allowed that though, until some kind soul steals the full footage and gifts us pure wonder, so unless you can really see their lips move, it's only a mirage.

- But! the full 20 seconds that is given over to watching Paul looking sad where nobody says anything at all is the best 20 seconds Peter Jackson ever spent.

- Paul explaining that obstacles aren't obstacles if you refuse to acknowledge any sadness in your life think about obstacles. I mean he's not untrue, it's not not true, he could make a motivational poster.

- So proud of his terrible news bulletins idea. I actually do think ending a massive spectacular show by having a quiet man come on and quietly announce that you've broken up could be nice though. But really I'm just in love with the fact that instead of worrying about breaking up, Paul has been turning it into a project they can all work on together. (And thinking about how to make it suitably big and show-off break up, because it's the Beatles - I love that he worries about their legacy. George and John are so weighted down by legacy, and Paul's just like 'it's only hard if we don't live up to it, so we should just live up to it'. He's such a lot, but he's true.)

Linda: But you were saying yesterday, you know... you make good music together whether you like it or not. John: I like it. Linda: And making good music is also... John: But it's just... Linda: It's really hard working in a relationship. John: I know.

- I love that they call it feeling guilty about each other.

- I love that when John is talking about how hard it is when Paul won't give in on arrangements, he specifically says that he wants it to work more like it works when they're writing. It soothes me in its easy acknowledgement that the writing is good. (even while he's destroying it I know)

- Paul jokingly saying 'You stay out of this, Yoko' to Linda when she is joining in the conversation is probably one of the first times that joke was made, where it's now a recognisable joke to almost every english speaking person in the world.

- SHUT UP I CANNOT STAND IT. (Literally no idea at what point of the thing I wrote this down but I stand by it.)

- I hope they didn't tell George they only wanted him back as a matter of policy. <333333333

When we're very old we'll all agree with each other and we'll all sing together.

- I love him talking about how it all works better if they sing properly instead of just singing half. I love that they just need to be young again and they're not young, since Brian died they haven't been at all young.

- Love John wanting someone to fact check Paul in case Tucson wasn't actually in Arizona. His surrealism does not stretch to inaccurate geography.

Ringo: The meeting was fine. A lot of good things, but then you know... they all sort of fell apart in the end.

Ringo accidentally writing a perfect little synopsis of the Beatles.

- "I don't feel like the Beatles revolve around the four people. It might be a fucking job." John trying to invent The Plastic Beatles. Or make it a bit like national service for rockstars. Everyone dreading the fucking letter that means they have to leave their families and their homes and their happy bands to go and live in a cauldron with Paul and John for a few months.

MLH: I think at some point we should talk conceptually about the show. Everyone prepares to leave.

[thecoleopterawithana]

Hello!

I'm looking for a section of the lunchroom tape (from the Get Back sessions) where John says something to Paul along the lines of "I mean, you've only recently realised what you were doing to me". Does that ring any bells?

You seem to know your way around amoralto's archives, and I'm not having any luck searching there :)

Thanks!

Hi, @i-am-the-oyster (love the name, by the way)!

I think you might be referring to this section of the Lunchroom Tape:

JOHN: And it’s just that, you know. It’s only this year that you’ve suddenly realised, like who I am, or who he is, or anything like that.

I find this bit of the conversation particularly impenetrable; and all the more fascinating because of it. It's here that we have this famed exchange (whose full meaning still eludes me):

JOHN: Because you – ’cause you’ve suddenly got it all, you see. PAUL: Mm. JOHN: I know that, because of the way I am, like when we were in Mendips, like I said, “Do you like me?” or whatever it is. I’ve always – uh, played that one. PAUL: [laughs nervously] Yes. JOHN: So. PAUL: Uh, I’d been watching, I’d been watching. I’d been watching the picture. YOKO: Go back to George. What are we going to do about George?

I encourage folks to go listen to the full audio and transcript and try their hand at decoding it!

I don't know if it's accessible on the mobile app, but @amoralto has a separate page with links to all the Get Back excerpts, listed in chronological order. It's a pretty neat resource if you want to just binge through interesting little snippets from these sessions (some that made it onto the documentary, and many that didn't).

To those curious about the Lunchroom Tape in particular, here's a (play)list of all the transcribed excerpts, with @amoralto's descriptions for context:

We Have Egos

Over lunch, the remaining Beatles touch on George’s resignation from the band on the 10th, as well as a group meeting held the previous day which ended in less than desirable circumstances (with George leaving the room, frustrated by John’s persistently Yoko-filtered standard of communication). While Yoko contends that it would be easy for John (and Paul) to regain George’s favour, John points out that this is a more deeply-rooted issue than it may seem, compounded over the years by John and Paul’s treatment of George and his defaulted status within the group. Upon this problem of overriding egos, however, Paul suggests (passive-aggressively) that it isn’t just the Lennon-and-McCartney tandem that is causing George upset and consternation. 

Jealousy For You

As the problem of George’s current resignation from the band is discussed, John makes it about him and Paul wonders what it’s all worth.

The Way We All Feel Guilty About Our Relationship To Each Other

John contends with how the force of his partnership with Paul and his relationship with Yoko has negatively affected George and perhaps directly contributed to George’s walkout on the group three days prior.

Cabbage

During a discussion on how the rest of the group should move forward after George’s departure on the 10th, John wonders if they should get George back at all, suggesting his role as a Beatle is replaceable (unlike his own or Paul’s), and likens this unkindly to how Ringo first replaced Pete Best. Paul notes that John has been the top buck in getting himself heard (and getting his way) since the inception of the group (which John protests) and quickly reassures Ringo when he wryly declares himself to be little more than rabbit food for the group. Paul admits that both he and John have done one over on George, albeit unconsciously as an effect of the competition and unaware of how it may have hurt George in the process, but John argues that he’s known since early childhood how manipulative he himself can be, and has tried to curb it to little avail.

What You Are

In the middle of a personal discussion with John and Ringo about the band, its tenuous future, and their relationships with one another, Paul (in response to John’s admission of insecurity in the face of external pressures from the public and media to perform) is emphatic about his faith in them and their abilities and contends that whatever interpersonal problems they have can be resolved, for what their music is worth.

Working At A Relationship

While Yoko and Paul conduct their own conversation with each other, Linda talks to John about the inevitable difficulties any relationship faces - even in the context of a musical partnership - and why it doesn’t prove the relationship itself is an expired one. John (inexplicably or not) laments that the White Album doesn’t sound like the genuine, inspired band collaboration they achieved in the past. 

You've Got To Blame Yourself

As Paul encourages an unconfident Ringo to go ahead with his plans to record a solo LP, John hedgingly brings up his own apprehensions about following his instincts (especially when he’s not even sure what he really wants to do). In their inimitable and emotionally non-committal fashion, John and Paul engage in metaphors about intentions, conveying these intentions in actions, and how these actions may be conveyed by those who see it. (Basically: what John and Paul talk about when they talk about love.)

How Much More Have I Done Towards Helping You Write?

John and Paul have an obfuscating conversation about their songwriting partnership and creative process, which has been incapacitated by a lack of direction, misplaced (misread) intentions, and the unmet (unrealised) expectations they’ve inflicted upon each other. (In other words: issues. And some projecting of issues onto George, for good measure.)

What We're All About

In the midst of a personal discussion about working together within the band, John tries to explain the disconnect in their process, and why he can’t envision their songs the way Paul can. As both John and Paul circle around the issues of honest communication and (living up to) each other’s expectations, they eventually project onto George bring George into the quandary of the Lennon-McCartney partnership. 

[arrogantsoap]

where can i find the unnedited lunchroom tapes? i remember someone linking me to something of the sorts at one point but i can't find that post or reply with the link. anyone?

[ceilidho]

prompt: IKEA soap/reader fic. PART 2. (read part 1 here) tags: dubcon

-

There’s a photo of you taped up on the inside of his locker. 

The glimpse you catch of it is quick. Not like you aren’t meant to see it, but more like Johnny’s so unconcerned with whether you see it or not that he doesn’t bother to make a show of it. Just reaches into his locker to grab his lunch and shuts it while you’re still gaping at the polaroid of someone that looks suspiciously like you in your store uniform. You hear someone clear their throat and you glance up, flinching when you meet Johnny’s eyes.

“Missing me already?” he teases, winking. “I’ll be back on the floor as soon as possible. ‘Promise, hen.”

“It’s not—” 

He’s already out the door and on the way to the lunchroom before you’re able to get the rest of your sentence out. 

Johnny seems to have a sixth sense for when you’re about to spurn his advances. Any other day he would have stuck around to listen to the rest of your sentence, but when he has an inkling that those words will be tinged by the flavour of rejection, he’s quick to book it. You privately have to admit it’s not a terrible strategy. It’s not often that you’re able to get the words out. 

It’s one of those rare shifts where you’re clocking in later than Johnny, missing his lunch break. Small mercies. It doesn’t mean much because your schedules still overlap a significant amount, but it does mean that you won’t be forced to choke down your lunch while Johnny sits opposite you at the lunch table and stares you down the entire half hour. 

“Wait, that was so fucking cute,” someone says from behind you. You turn on your heel to find a coworker staring at Johnny’s locker, properly enchanted by whatever she saw. Practically swooning. 

“What is?”

“Didn’t you see the picture he has of you? In his locker?” She says it with emphasis, giving you a significant look. 

“Yeah…I…don’t you think it’s a bit…like, weird?” you ask her, making sure to keep your voice low in case Johnny is still around the corner. You can’t help the way you glance down the hallway.

She frowns. “It’s cute. He’s like, smitten with you. I’ve never seen him with a crush on anyone before and I’ve worked with him for over a year. I think it’s kind of nice. Do you not like him or something?”

“Well, I just…we aren’t even dating and I think…I think he even has a photo of me as his lock screen—”

“Because if you aren’t interested in him, you should let him down now. It’s not fair of you to just string him along, you know. He’s a really good guy.”

You’re not sure about the whole good guy thing. Johnny acts like a nice guy most of the time, but you’ve had the unfortunate luck in getting to experience the other side of him.

The problem lies in the fact that Johnny is, you think, a genuinely likeable guy to everyone else. It’s not like your coworkers are all collectively wrong in their opinion of him—he really is an excellent coworker. A good sport, a funny guy; he lends a hand whenever someone needs help. He helped Jeff move two weeks ago, drove Daryl to the airport last Saturday, and looked after Sonya’s cat while she was away on vacation that one time. 

It’s with you that his good-time nature evaporates; his lazy, drawled predilection for joking around and indulging himself and others in a good ribbing replaced by a weird, manufactured kindness. Almost sickly sweet. He lays it on so thick around others that they think you experience the same friendship with Johnny that the rest of them get to enjoy. 

Not so.

None of them catch the way he’s always hovering, always staring at you. Eyes half-lidded; bedroom eyes in the middle of your shift, in the middle of the workplace. 

None of your coworkers are around when you’re at the register one day and Johnny takes his break to make a couple purchases, coming to your cash with a basket full of chocolate, wine, condoms, body butter, and batteries. No one except him notices the way you pause at the last item.

“Dinnae ken if your vibrator was rechargeable or not,” he says when you look at him funny, a big grin stretched across his face. Blue eyes gleaming almost feverishly. “Thought I’d be prepared either way.”

You scan his items in silence. When you hand him his bag, you try not to shudder when he purposefully glances his hand over yours. 

Worse are the days when Johnny comes in as a customer, the days when he’s off the schedule. When he shouldn’t even be at the store at all. No one notices the way he pesters you the entire time he’s in the store, insisting on you helping him with his purchases. If a coworker does happen to notice his presence (and how could they not when he’s such a formidable presence in any room, when he almost glows from the energy stockpiled in his body with nowhere else to go), he’ll make polite conversation, just long enough to not seem rude, before shifting his attention back to you. 

His conversation borders on interrogation. He asks you about your childhood and your friends and whether you have a partner or any previous partners. He makes you follow him to the bed section where he tries out all the mattresses and then asks you increasingly inappropriate questions like what mattress you have, what it feels like, how you sleep at night, what you wear to bed. 

When you rebuff him one too many times, he’s not shy about telling you off. 

“Ye just need a good fuck ta sort ye out,” Johnny snarls when you brush off another invite out to lunch one day. It’s not often that he loses his temper with you, so his anger makes your eyes widen, your pulse pick up. During morning shift assignments, he’d corralled your manager into pairing the two of you up on curbside pick-up orders, meaning that you’ve been stuck with him for hours, nowhere else to go. 

“Excuse me?” you say, voice going up a decibel. 

He leans across the front of the cart loaded with flowerpots and gardening tools. “I get it, hen. No one at home ta play with your pussy, huh? No choice but ta come into work all pent up and frustrated—”

“This is in like, the outer Hebrides of ‘none of your business’—”

“—clit’s probably all swollen too. Fuck.” He breathes out heavily through his nose, eyes darkening. “No wonder you’re always pissed off. I’d be too if I dinnae have a little replacement pussy at home.”

“You’re the reason I’m upset in the first place, Johnny.”

“Aw, I ken, bonnie,” he says with a pout, eyebrows slanting down like he really, truly pities you, the gesture immediately contradicted by his next words. “Promise I’ll make it better. Wanna meet outside my truck in a half hour?” 

You storm off before it comes to blows. Not that it’d ever be a fair fight. Johnny would probably hold you away with his palm against your head while you swung at him uselessly. You try not to think of that too often. Of him toying with you. Most of your interactions feel like that these days. Like he’s a big cat holding your tail down when you try to scramble away. 

When you beg your manager to switch shift assignments, the look you get could wilt flowers. It’s not completely your fault, even if your request is a bit inconveniencing. Johnny has your coworkers and management so wrapped around his finger that no one can even hazard a guess as to why you might be uncomfortable around him. 

It’s the only reason you haven’t complained to HR yet. There are channels and protocols for dealing with his behaviour, but watching people practically trip over themselves to please him reminds you that the likeliest outcome would be them transferring you to another store. It just doesn’t seem worth it.

You don’t think about how frazzled his words leave you for the rest of your shift. You don’t think about it because there’s nothing to think about. 

You know from the second that your manager reassigns you to women’s apparel that you’ve probably made a mistake. Customers buzz around you like gnats, like swarms of flies, and it’s only natural that you’d be compelled to swat a few. You hold on to the fraying edges of your patience with little finesse. About halfway through your shift, you get a stern talking to from your floor supervisor and put on an extra long break. You’re no less irritated when you get back though, somehow still agitated and snappy. 

Big hands clamp over your shoulders and squeeze like he’s giving you a massage, thumbs digging into the grooves of your upper back. He ignores the way you tense up.

“Hen, you’re making the customers uncomfortable with all your huffin’ and puffin’,” he whispers into your ear, a light chuckle falling out with his words. Amused by your attitude this time instead of ticked off. “If ye want, I could take ye ta the back room ta loosen ye up a bit. Make your day a little better. Dinnae think anybody will even notice if we dip away for a bit—’sides management will probably send me a gift basket if ye come back perky after a good shag.”

You shrug him off to go clock out, ignoring the way he chuckles as you storm off. No one knows if you go home and wear out the battery in your vibrator while thinking about Johnny’s words. Thinking about Johnny guiding you to his truck with a palm flat on your low back, pinkie teasing just under the waistband of your pants, before laying you out across the backseat and climbing on top of you.

You come when you think about how he’d have to keep the door open to fuck you in his car.

Unfortunately, you’re more than familiar with his sweet side as well. 

On your birthday, he comes in early with a sheet cake and organizes the employees so that the breakroom is dark when you come in. The entire staff is there when you switch on the lights, shouting your name and happy birthday, decked out in party hats and blowing into noisemakers.

It catches you off guard. Hits you right in the solar plexus and leaves you winded. You stand in the middle of the room like you’re under a spotlight and that spotlight is Johnny’s stare burning a hole in your head. For once, it doesn’t rankle. It leaves you feeling light, feathery, like floating down to earth. A coworker hands you a noisemaker and you smile until your eyes crinkle when you blow into it. 

You’re in a good enough mood that you don’t argue when he insists on sitting beside you. He got you the cake after all. Maybe it’s the least he deserves. Your goodwill lasts until Johnny tries to feed you a piece of cake with his fork; he winds up getting cake smushed all over your cheek when you turn your head away. 

“Johnny, ‘m not a baby,” you complain, wrinkling your nose when cake and icing slide down your face. “I can feed myself. This is so gross.”

“Shucks, hen, lemme get that. Shouldnae have turned your head,” Johnny curses, leaning over to scoop it off with his fingers. He holds them out to you, an offering. “Here ye go, kitty.”

You stare, horrified, until he shrugs like ‘suit yourself’ and pops them into his own mouth. Then drags the same spit covered fingers over your cheek again to keep cleaning you up. 

You can tell that it’s hopeless to complain by the way your coworkers giggle and gossip, eyes drawn to the two of you. Maybe it would be better if you were transferred. You only have so many ‘I’m not his work wife’s left in you. Something’s bound to give. You have a sneaking suspicion that it’s going to be you. 

On the walk to your car after your shift, which Johnny insists on doing like he does every time the two of you work a closing shift together, he jokingly asks if you’ve gotten your birthday spanks. He says it in that same awkward joking tone, just a bit too excited, staring at you too eagerly. Unblinking. Tuts his tongue when you tell him you’ve never heard of that before. 

You jolt and squeak at the pop on your ass when he insists on opening the door to your car and helping you in. The betrayed look you shoot him hardly penetrates through his shit-eating grin. 

“See ye tomorrow, kitty,” Johnny calls out, walking backwards away from you to where his truck is parked just a few spots away from yours. You think he would’ve parked right next to you if you hadn’t chosen a spot conveniently between two other cars. “More where that came from.”

Your hands shake against the steering wheel your whole drive home. Dreading tomorrow’s shift.

[theolivetree123]

◇ Yuuki's New Club ◇

Yuuki stared at the poster in their hand. They furrowed their brow as their hand stiffened, trying not to tear the paper in frustration. Their other hand grew sweaty with fear, and the tape in that hand turned damp. Grim, Ace and Deuce simply stared. This nervousness was nothing new from Yuuki.

"Come on, Henchman, just put up the sign already!" Grim yelled causing Yuuki to drop the tape.

Yuuki groaned as they clumsily picked up the tape from the ground. "Ugh, its... it's not that simple for me, Grim! I mean, gosh... in my world, people treated me like a speck of literal dust! It's not unusual for me to not want to but myself out there. Ugh, why did Crowely even allow me to make this stupid club..."

Deuce walked to Yuuki, putting a hand on their shoulder. "Yuuki, if you need us to put up these poster for you, we can. But, just so you know, I think your club will be amazing! Whether people join or not."

Ace lightly pushed Deuce away. "Ugh, don't let them off the hook, Deuce! Yuuki should be able to do this themselves. They shouldn't be relying on us to do stuff for em! Do you remember last week when we had to give an entire presentation because Yuuki was too afraid to go up in front of the class? Or maybe when-"

"Okay! Okay! I get it, Ace..." Yuuki quickly interrupted Ace and then looked at their poster.

☆「Art Club」☆

Founded by Yuuki Kamiyama, Art Club will be for people to not only make art, but research it, learn about its origins, and come to appreciate the work that goes into making a masterpiece.

If you'd like to join, please meet Yuuki in class 1-F tomorrow immediately after school ends.

Yuuki stared at the words. Who would want to join this club? Who would want to join Yuuki? They sighed. "Do you guys think anyone would want to join this club?"

Grim, Ace and Deuce paused for a moment. Then Ace spoke up. "Of course, Yuuki. There's gotta be at least one person in this school who loves art as much as you do. I'm sure of it!"

Deuce smiled. "I agree. You'll surely find people for your club here."

Grim jumped onto Yuuki's shoulder. "Yeah! C'mon Yuuki, you gotta think positive!"

Yuuki sighed again and smiled as they brushed their hair to the side. "I sure hope you guys are right." Then, Yuuki tore a piece of tape and stuck the poster to the lunchroom wall.

"Okay, let's get out of here before I change my mind..." Yuuki quickly turned away from the poster. Ace and Deuce followed.

◇ Welcome to Art Club! ◇

Yuuki has made their very own club! In classroom 1-F, they hold Art Club.

Yuuki would love some new members! Would you be willing to join?

Rules:

Only NRC students can join!

Everyone can participate! Whether you're following me or not.

No NSFW!

You can make fanart, make cards, write fanfics, etc.

Tag me if you choose to make anything for this mini event!

If you choose to make a card, you can use these club card blanks from my good friend, trinket!

I made the club badges below and the classroom background above. Please credit me if you use them! I have made an Art Club badge for every single canon NRC dorm.

Dress Code:

All you have to do is wear your club shirt (a shirt with the club badge on it). That's it! Everything else is up to you.

I will be posting Yuuki's own club card, as well!

◇ Club Members ◇

Yuubeni Chōga - @bunniehunn

That's it!

If you have any questions, please ask me!

Tagging below:

@cheerleaderman @moonyasnow @ashipiko @babyghoul138 @skibidibabygirl @skriblee-ksk @oya-oya-okay @the-rini-rush @twtysevapr @taruruchi @scint1llat3 @screamintoad @bunniehunn @gimmeurmoneyagh @offorestsongs @shinysparklesapphires @beneathsakurashade @gl00myb3arz @fell-e @the-trinket-witch @boopshoops

Let me know if you don't want to be tagged!

[eddiemunson-reader-shame]

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader: Space Oddity, Part 1

In my ongoing quest to write more self indulgent reader inserts, I present to you: Weird Reader.

Sorry guys, but in school I played with the girls who pretended to be Warrior Cats, and ate lunch with guys who unironically did the Naruto run. The only thing separating me from this reader in this story is the fact that I mask in public and unmask at home.

[Chapter Two]

***

“You want me to play D&D with you guys?”

You watched with suspicious eyes as Mike Wheeler and Dustin Henderson nodded frantically, stirring the sweet, syrupy dessert of fruit cocktail in your lunch tray compartment. Staring at you was like staring at a taxidermy raccoon: you were dead eyed, but still positioned as though you could jump out and give someone rabies.

If he had been asked at gunpoint, Mike would have admitted that you were a last resort choice.

“Yeah…” Mike said cautiously, trying not to stare directly into your eyes.

Dustin smiled, leaning forward.

“You like D&D, right?” He tried, hopeful.

Everyone they had asked in Hawkins High had so far said no to subbing in for Lucas Sinclair, and Mike had balked at the idea of even thinking of asking you when they got rejected for the fifth time. You were even worse than the freaks of Hawkins High. The collective student body had come together as one to declare that you were a weird, mean bitch.

“I like what I’ve heard of it…” you mumbled, “I never played it before…”

Dustin’s face lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Really?” He asked, his geometric pattern button up nearly dipping into his open can of chocolate pudding, “Never ever? So you’d need to be taught?”

Before you could venture an answer, Mike pulled him back.

“Could you-… Could you just excuse us please? Thank you.”

You nodded slowly while Mike dragged Dustin away to a corner of the bustling lunchroom. While they conversed in hushed whispers, you sat there alone, the students sharing your space giving you a wide berth at the head of the lunch table.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?!” Mike hissed at Dustin, “You’re going to ask The Bitch to play, and she’s never even played D&D before?!”

Mike knew the stories. Robin had once asked to borrow a pencil from your jubilee of pens you kept in the pocket of your shortalls. Reluctantly you agreed, and then you had a meltdown when she took the flat contractor’s pencil with the He-Man sticker on it. Steve had told any of The Party who would listen about his encounter: even Eleven could perfectly recite the story about the weird girl who had flat tired Steve in the hall every day at 9am when he walked by Mrs. Click’s class, ruining the backs of his brown suede moccasins so often that his mom stopped replacing them after a while. His description of the perp matched you exactly.

Even Mike on his first day of school had been subject to your oddities. A casual lunchtime stroll found him tripping over a trap, made of plastic milk crates and dead branches you’d constructed by the football field. The encounter ended with him being subjected to your twenty minute screaming lecture on why it was rude of him to wreck the “houses” you’d made for the skinks that darted around the concrete walkways.

Mike Wheeler hated you because of reputation, but Dustin knew better than to fall victim to heresy. He had seen the drawings of dragons, daleks, dinosaurs, wolves and mermaids on xerox paper you had left behind once in the lunchroom. When he found you to give them back (you didn’t say thank you), he’d been gifted with a drawing a day later in his locker: a very detailed Spock giving the Vulcan salute, “Live Long and Prosper” written underneath in bubble letters above your loopy cursive signature. He still kept it taped to his Geometry folder.

“Dude, yes! Chill out!” Dustin hissed back, looking at you fondly from a distance, “You remember what Eddie said? ‘Find the little lost sheepies that need us’. Look at her, man. Doesn’t that scream little lost sheep to you?”

They turned to look at you simultaneously. After looking both ways to check the coast was clear, you commandeered Dustin’s abandoned chocolate pudding. Spooning the syrupy peaches, pears, pineapple, and single half of maraschino cherry of your fruit cocktail inside, you mixed the chocolate and fruit together. Lathing up the leftover pudding with your tongue, the spoon was licked clean before you tossed it vaguely into an indignant girl’s creamed corn, but she was too afraid to yell at you while you were armed with chocolate.

With great relish you began eating your concoction with your fingers.

Mike grimaced while Dustin just laughed.

“She’s perfect.” Dustin gushed, “And you should see her drawings, they’re badass!”

“Just because she’s a gross weirdo who’s good at drawing doesn’t mean she knows jackshit about tabletop games!” Mike growled, nearly gagging when he saw you mop up the leftover pudding in the can with your bread roll, “You bring a beginner into Hellfire Club, Eddie’s gonna blow a goddamn gasket! He’s already on the warpath because of Lucas’ championship game tonight, can you imagine what he’ll do when we bring in The Bitch?!”

“Mike, relax. Eddie’s not going to know she’s a novice. Everyone still flips through the handbook, they won’t notice if she does it. We’ll give her a crash course, I’ll even let her borrow my Player’s Handbook so she can come in looking like she at least knows the basics. And if Eddie does get pissed we can just… ease him into the idea that a succulent babe wants to play with him.”

Dustin made the shape of a curved figure with his hands, while Mike looked ready to punch him in the groin.

“You think he’s going to fold for a fat girl?” Mike snarled.

“… Shut up Mike,” Dustin said, immediately protective of you, “He’s going to fold for a cute girl. Look at her! Soft arms, round face, thick thighs… Eddie’s gonna lose his goddamn mind, man! That’s like his ideal type.”

They continued to argue back and forth, finally coming to a grudging resolution when Dustin dragged Mike back by the shirt to your lunch table.

“If this goes to shit, I know where you live.” Mike hissed quietly.

“Shhhh!” Dustin slapped Mike’s arm before looking back at you with a dopey grin.

You were staring down both of them, eyes flicking from Dustin to Mike. The empty pudding cup can was sitting exactly where it had been once full before, but the pop top was gone, and you were pretending like you hadn’t just gone to town on an unholy concoction.

“I made a decision.” You said suddenly.

The two freshmen looked at one another, before leaning in closer. Mike looked skeptical, but Dustin’s grin was nearly splitting his face in half.

“I’ll play with you guys.” You said after a few seconds.

Dustin couldn’t help but fist pump into the air, nearly tipping over backwards on his chair while Mike just grimaced like he was about to puke. An imperfect smile with chocolate teeth flashed at the boys, and you were just about to speak when Mike stopped the party.

“Okay, listen… if you’re going to play, you’re going to have to put in the work, it’s not like playing Monopoly.” He said, staring you down, “This is serious shit.”

You closed your mouth, head tilting to the side.

“Oh… I thought it was like, making your own characters and pretending to be them and stuff.” You said.

“It is, but it’s a lot more nuanced than that. Our Advanced D&D campaigns are different. We play very combat heavy sessions, we use actual strategy in battle. It’s not a goddamn tea party.”

“And Eddie takes the rules very seriously…” Dustin chimed in, “So we’ll have to familiarize you with the basics.”

“Eddie!?”

Both boys jumped back as you banged your hands on the table, getting up close and nearly crawling on top over to them. The students sitting next to you collectively jumped, the metal legs of their chairs scraping and making a horrid screech against the linoleum flooring.

“You mean… you’re talking about Eddie The Freak, right?” You hissed under your breath.

“Eddie Munson.” Dustin corrected, frowning when you called him a freak, “He’s the dungeon master of our club… of Hellfire Club.”

Your eyes widened, and your chest began to rise and fall rapidly.

“You’re right though. That is the very same freak.” Mike cut in, lowering his pitch hoping that feeding into the negativity would scare you away, “He’s a dick to newcomers. You might get the boot if he finds out we brought you in without having any background knowledge of D&D.”

His words made you shrink back, looking at your lunch tray and the little mess of chocolate you’d unknowingly splattered on your clothes. Dustin could have killed Mike, while the latter just looked smug.

And then… you began to giggle.

“Okay…” you smiled.

“Okay?!” Mike and Dustin repeated.

Mike managed to speak up while Dustin was still picking his smiling jaw up off the floor.

“You’re sure you still want to play?” Mike asked, panicking as he pulled out all the stops to get you to quit, “Eddie is not a patient guy with new players, he’s going to rip you to pieces and sacrifice you to the devil!”

You nodded quickly, breathlessly hyperventilating.

“Yeah…! I… If Eddie Munson is running the game… I really wanna play.”

Dustin gave a high pitched giggle of his own and shook Mike’s shoulder, absolutely loving the way your face broke out into a goofy grin. You didn’t even flinch at Mike’s attempts to scare you.

“You got a thing for him or something?” Mike ventured cautiously.

“Yes.”

You answered so unabashedly, with no hesitation, that for a minute it actually endeared you to Mike. Who knew that The Bitch of Hawkins High was actually a human being with wants and needs?

“Wait… are you serious?” Mike asked.

“Uh huh…”

You giggled, biting your lower lip and covering your burning face.

“I think… I think he’s really hot…”

If they had been drinking Tab, they would have spit the liquid out all over you.

“You think Eddie’s hot?” Dustin wheezed.

“Yeah… um… I’ve had this like monster crush on Eddie since I was in fifth grade. He did like this talent show and played the guitar real good, and he’s all loud and funny and crazy and I think he’s got a real charming smile…”

The cadence in your already deep contralto was lilting into a mezzo soprano the more you talked about their sadistic dungeon master, and you were rocking side to side in your plastic chair while Dustin and Mike just watched you make a complete ass of yourself.

This probably would have turned into two hours of blabbing, had not Mike refocused you and Dustin and begun to actually lay out the basics of TSR’s Advanced Dungeons and Dragons. No time to lose, back to business. If you were going to play with Eddie you had a lot of catching up to do. They had a spare set of dice, and Mike helped you roll for stats as Dustin began to write out a crude character sheet for you based on your imaginative ideas.

“We can probably make you a character very quickly.” Mike said, flipping through his own Mead Composition notebook as he checked past characters that had died valiantly in battle, “I have one you can use. Barbarians are stupid easy for first timers since you’re just hitting shit with a sword-...”

“I want a character based on my story I’m writing!” You exclaimed, and then you subjected Mike to your brief (lie) synopsis of one of many witchy characters who was cursed by a dark goddess.

It took a lot of adjusting and words that held no meaning to you, like “Domain of Trickery” and “Cleric of Shar”. The two freshmen helped you settle on a character that would be deemed useful for Hellfire’s campaign, and made sure to force feed you every rule and spell that Gygax and Arneson had conceived for your chosen class. True to his word, Dustin let you borrow the Player’s Handbook he carried with him at all times when the bell to conclude lunch rang out. You took it with promises that you’d give it back when you met them outside of the drama room later after school, already burying your nose in the pages when you walked off to your class.

The boys saw a different side of you that possibly no one else in the school ever had: a familiar side, a human side. A side that was brutally honest and sometimes a little mean, but just as vulnerable and relatable as anyone else. A consensus had been reached during their shared English class: you were definitely weird, but actually pretty smart and imaginative. Possibilities of keeping you on as a permanent member were being discussed when Dustin and Mike found you hiding behind the lockers just outside the drama room around three pm.

“What are you doing?” Mike asked.

You shook your head, clutching your fat trapper keeper to your chest and handing Dustin back his Player’s Handbook.

“Eddie’s in there…” you muttered, chewing on the spine of your trapper keeper covered in duct tape

“Yeah, he usually gets there with Jeff, Gareth and Frank really early, to set up the map and the dice towers.” Mike nodded.

From the rectangular slat of a window, one could see Gareth and Frank meticulously setting up Jenga pieces and miniatures on top of a slab of butcher paper marked in sharpie, janky cindrilical tubes painted to look like castle towers were set up at each place at the table (the dice towers, fashioned from Pringles cans, cardboard, glue and paint). Eddie and Jeff were deep in conversation, plugging in lamps and electric candelabras left over from the drama club’s last production of ‘Pride and Prejudice’. Inside the mood was almost holy, reverent (or like Eddie liked to call it: a softcore porn on Valentine’s day mood), and the boys couldn’t help the eagerness as they went to the door.

You, however, stayed firmly planted behind the lockers.

“What are you doing?!” Mike hissed, “Come on! We’re gonna be late because of you!”

“I don’t wanna go in…!” You snapped back, suddenly shy.

Mike looked at Dustin, ready to destroy him, while Dustin tried to talk you down.

“Hey, hey! Come on, it’s okay. Don’t worry! You have a good character, and if you need help you can just sit with me and Mike-…”

“But what if he doesn’t like me?” You protested.

“I swear to you on my mother that Eddie is going to love you.” Dustin said, trying to calm you down, “You’re great. You actually came with a character to play, and he’s going to be so happy that a girl is showing interest in his hobbies.”

You were about to turn tail and leave when you felt an iron grip around the meat of your bicep, pulling you forward with an unnatural strength born entirely of Nerd Rage.

“Oh hell no!” Mike said, pulling you kicking and protesting towards the door, “You’re not doing this to me right now god dammit! You’re going to get your ass in there, and you’re going to play! I didn’t sit through lunch listening to your weird edgy character backstory just so you could pussy out at the last minute! Now get your ass. In. NOW!”

With a harsh shove, you flew into the drama room – tripping on your own two feet trying to catch yourself – and spilling the contents of your trapper keeper all over the ground. Strong hands caught you before you face planted into the floor, holding you steady.

“Easy, easy!” Called out a familiar voice, “Goddamn... What the hell was that for, Mike?! You could’ve broken her nos-…”

Eddie Munson’s voice trailed off, and the boys watched as their fearless leader, their metalhead bard, began to stare open mouthed slack jawed at you.

“You told us to find a lost sheep.” Mike snarled, “So here she is.”

[m1ssunderstanding]

Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day Eight

So Ringo walks in first thing in the morning carrying not one, but two drinks. Either he’s being very gentlemanly to MLH (likely) or we’re getting a peek at his alcohol problem (also likely)

Ringo your boooots! Ugh, I want them so bad. And paired with the shiny red shirt and jeans? Like if Dorothy was rodeo royalty.

Paul’s defense-mechanism overdone charm coming in strong today. Playfighting with some random old man, winking at someone else as he walks by, all chipper and bouncy, boyish and cute.

“If it came to a push . . . between Yoko and the Beatles, it’s Yoko, you know . . . ‘Why do you build me up, build me up, buttercup baby, just to let me down?” Linda grabs his hand and he shuts up. Another on my list of covers with *meaning* and if this one isn’t obvious, I don’t know what is. Even Linda was embarrassed for him. But here’s the thing. He’s so sure that if he pushed John to choose between Yoko and the band, that John’d choose Yoko. And he’s probably right there. But what John wants, IMO, whether he knows it or not, is for Paul to push him to choose between Yoko and HIM. Not the band. I really do think that’s what John wants and the fact that Paul’s not doing that confirms John’s belief that Paul doesn’t love him.

“Permanently engaged?” *literally starts to vibrate with anxiety* *whistles to self-soothe*

Okay, but, if I’m remembering correctly, actually in the nagras Paul’s answer to MLH’s “Do you think if you put any pressure on him that he’d go your way a bit more?” is actually “I don’t know, you know . . . can’t be bothered.” Not. “I don’t know, you know . . . and then there were two.” As AKOM said in one of their Get Back episodes, that line is actually a joke not even from that moment. So the tears? Real. The line? No.

Ringo is Not a fan of Paul just casually planning ways to announce the breakup.

Couldn’t even get a picture of Paul jumping out of his chair to talk to John because he moves so fast. Poor baby.

I wonder how early on Linda and Paul developed the “she says what he can’t say while he’s gone” play? You know? I definitely don’t think this early, but this moment does remind me of that little strategy of theirs.

“He’s coming in.” Just now takes his coat off. Meaning he's just now decided to stay? Or he's just now remembered he's still got it on? Either way, Paul's suddenly all easy smiles, relaxed, joking. John’s coming in. What could be wrong?

I was literally so pissed when I first watched this lunchroom conversation. I won’t claim to be a nagras expert or anything, but I was very familiar with the secretly-taped conversation, and it was just so butchered and spliced. Also, even if it was just them talking, it’s still not a private conversation. They’re in a crowded public space. So it’s still coded and veiled and layered etc. MLH you should’ve bugged their coats for the meeting at George’s if you’d wanted a private convo. (obvs I don’t condone that sort of thing don’t come at me)

Paul and John invite Ringo to go see George. Ringo: I was going anyway. Of course you were. Ringo’s the glue, everyone. Lewisohn can think it’s John that everyone had their closest relationship with in the group, but actually, it’s Ringo.

Ringo and Mal’s little two-step. Adorable!

See, and Ringo being the one to suggest they rehearse. It’s not just Paul being bossy all the time, kids, and it’s not just John being a leader all the time, kids. Sometimes it’s Ringo.

“Why don’t I leave my favorite guitar here as a sign?” “Look, look, what greater faith could a man have than to leave his list?” You know, like when that mean teacher makes you give them a shoe or your phone or something when they let you borrow a pencil just to make sure you won’t steal it?

[brokeitwiththepowerofmathamatics]

Fanfic - Ghost of the Cards

This was written for a "back to school" fic challenge on a DP server I'm in. It was beta read by HeroineofTime!

For the challenge, we had to write a fic that was around going back to school, and had to include in some way homework, detention, backpack, friends, and bells.

(ao3 here) (ff.net here)

Danny knew that Dash and the A-Listers would probably try to find some way to make his life miserable, but he had to admit this was actually kind of funny.

Danny huffed as he ran up to the school doors. Yes, he could have just flown in using his ghost powers while invisible, then pop out of one of the bathroom stalls or something, but after the summer vacation, and the multitude of close calls of almost being caught by… well… everyone… (no Jazz, he was not being careless because he wanted to be caught and freed from the burden of secrecy) he decided not to risk using his powers at school today.

In retrospect, that didn't help anything.

Danny walked through the school doors, he was greeted by the sight of one of the lunchroom tables laid out in the school entryway. Star and Paulina were sitting at the table, greeting all the students as they came in, and handing out little boxes.

Danny resolved himself to ignore it, but he didn't get a chance to.

"Hey! Fenton!" Star called out. Danny sighed and walked over. Star glanced over at Paulina and the two of them started giggling.

Danny already had a bad feeling but now it was worse. "Hey, Star," he greeted.

"Hello!" Star said, sitting up straight. Her posture was perfect, not leaning in any friendly manner, but she wasn’t leaning away like she normally would. (At least, while people could see her) "Here! Take this!" she said, handing him one of the boxes. Her voice was oddly chipper for a typical interaction with him. "The art club kept meeting over the summer, and we came up with something fun! The teachers are all helping out with this!"

"Uh… thanks? What is it?" Danny asked, tilting the box over in his hands. It was a cardboard box that was printed to look like the outside of Casper High, with a large ‘TCG’ floating over the school's name. There was also a piece of masking tape on the back, that Danny noticed wasn't on the others.

This box had been marked for him.

"It's a card game! You should know all about those!"

Danny sighed. "Not really? Look, I know I'm a nerd, but I like video games and space." Danny shook the box around. "Card games haven't been my thing."

Star rolled her eyes. "Whatever, look, I gotta keep handing these out." She looked past him and raised her hand. "Kwan! Over here!"

Where Kwan was, Dash soon followed, so Danny dashed away.

Danny checked where his locker was supposed to be, before running up the stairs to the top floor. Fighting the urge to pump a fist as he did so. Not only was it the top floor, but it was close to a janitor closet, and in a dead end part of the school. Not many people would be coming by here unless it was specifically to drop stuff at their locker, or go to the history teacher's room that was on the other side of the wall.

And more importantly, Sam and Tucker were apparently next to him as well.

Thank Clockwork for small mercies.

"You're welcome," Tucker said as he took a stack of cards from Sam.

"Don't mention it, I don't want to see it, I don't want to hear about them, and the moment I’m allowed to get my hands around Paulina’s little neck I’ll-"

Danny jogged up and interrupted their conversation. "Whoa, what's going on?" he asked. He couldn’t help but be proud of himself, this was about as far as you could get from the school entrance, and despite jogging the whole way, he wasn’t out of breath at all. Apparently, the early morning jogs with Sam were actually helping.

Sam whirled toward Danny, and then zero'd in on the box in his hands. "It's that stupid card game that Star and Paulina started.” she spat, pointing at it with about as much hate as she had for the pink dresses her mother kept buying her. “They started with- hey wait, Danny, don't-"

But, Danny kept opening the box. "I just want to see what the big deal is." He opened the box as Sam stammered. She opened and closed her mouth multiple times before giving up and biting down on a knuckle.

The box contained several booster packs of cards, each wrapped up in foil, and a booklet that was probably the game rules. In all honesty, Danny was impressed. He wasn't a connoisseur of playing cards or anything, but this seemed very much like the cards he'd see at the big box stores.

Danny tore up the first pack and looked at the cards. He frowned when he saw the first card that greeted him was a picture of Dash. It was a picture of his bully at what was probably last year's homecoming football game, with two golden stars above it. Underneath the picture were two boxes, one with a red sword along with a 5, and another with a blue shield with an 8. At the bottom of the card was a big box saying, "Teamplayer, for every other card on the field with the text teamplayer on, this card gains 1 power and 1 toughness."

Danny rolled his eyes and flipped through the cards. Obviously the reason why this box was marked wasn't because he was supposed to see Dash's ugly mug. Sam continued to stare nervously as Danny went through the cards.

Danny paused on another card, this one wasn’t a photo, but a drawn art piece of Ember. Instead of the stars, there was a green letter ‘G’ above the picture. Ember had a 10 for the sword, and the shield had a 10 as well.

At the bottom of her card was a similar box as Dash’s card. “Leader, when this card is played, take a card from your hand and put it in one of the lanes next to this card. It must follow normal summoning rules.”

Danny huffed. “Ember would hate this card, she doesn’t do duets.” The comment got a laugh out of Tucker but Sam continued to look nervous. She wouldn’t be worried if it was a ghost (other than him) being upset, that meant this wasn’t what had gotten under her skin. So, Danny continued flipping through the cards.

Then he found it.

It was a picture of him, looking panicked. Danny recognized it as around one of the times Skulker really had it out for him from last year during prom. His card was lacking any of the stars, but it also had a big fat 0 next to the power and toughness stats.

The only saving grace to his card was the bottom text, which Danny read aloud. "Moving on, when this card dies, play another card."

The hall was silent for a moment as Danny processed what he was seeing. Sam reached out carefully towards Danny, almost like she was afraid he'd break down in front of him.

Danny couldn't take it anymore.

He started laughing. Full blown laughs, the ugly ones that made you wheeze cause you weren't able to breath properly.

"Danny?" Sam asked, bewildered.

"Oh my gosh, this is perfect!" Danny got out before gasping for air. "I can't believe- oh my god- they did- I can't- I can't breathe, oh my god I can't breathe! I'm laughing too hard!"

"Okay, Danny, seriously…" Sam said, folding her arms and tapping her foot against the ground. "This isn't funny."

Danny took several big gulps full of air. "Sam, it's really funny." Sam continued to glare and Danny leaned forward and whispered. "Sam, my card's power is going ghost." He frowned. "Wait, do you think-"

"That the A-Lister's know?" Tucker interrupted, shuffling his cards around, "Nah, if they did, Dash would be worshiping the ground you walk on, not talking about how he can't wait to see your face when you see your card."

"I think he's gonna be pretty disappointed."

Sam huffed and leaned against the lockers. "You're both taking this pretty well considering the school is basically systematically bullying Danny." She turned toward Danny and her eyebrows rose slightly. "I'm gonna be honest. I'm not okay with this. I'm not. I know you're saying it's funny, but Danny… the school made a card that said your only purpose is to die… That's really messed up."

Danny shrugged and checked that no one was coming down the hall before shoving his hand through his locker door and hanging up his backpack. "I mean, they're not wrong."

"Danny!"

Danny turned to face Sam. "Sam, I'm a straight D student… I'm also the-" Danny checked the hall again and still didn't see anyone coming around the corner, "-the local super hero. Literally, my superpower is to die on command. It's really exactly wrong... Also, where is everyone else? School starts in like… thirty minutes doesn't it?"

Sam's eyes narrowed and she turned toward Tucker, Tucker however was laughing. "Jazz moved your clocks ahead so you'd make it on time. We got like an hour and half."

"What! I can't believe she'd do that!" Danny paused then shrugged. "Well, actually I can and I think that's worse."

Sam reached over and pulled on Danny's arm. "I'm not letting this drop," she said, holding eye contact with Danny and holding onto his wrist. Her grip was surprisingly tight, and her arm was shaking slightly. "It's not okay that the school did this, you know? You're allowed to be mad about it."

"I'm not though! Sam, I really don't care."

"Well, fine, but I do… I'm not okay with them doing this. I'm gonna tear the school a new one," she said, grabbing Danny's arm with her other hand. "When I get home, I'm talking to my grandma and I'm finding the best lawyer I can and then Mr. Lancer can kiss every bonus he'd ever get goodb-"

Danny sighed and put a hand on Sam's shoulder, interrupting her litigious rant. "Sam, aren't you the one always telling me not to worry about what other people think?" His hand slid from the top of her shoulder as he ran his hand up and down her arm, trying to get her to calm down.

Sam shook her head, though she leaned into his touch. "This is very different, and you know it,” she whispered.

"Hey, guys?" Tucker interrupted from his spot on the floor. "I hate to end this tender moment, but it gets better." Tucker waved the booklet around in front of Danny and Danny snatched it out of his hands.

Danny read for a few moments before his eyes went wide. "Oh… oh!"

Tucker smiled and started nodding. "You're seeing it too, aren't you?"

"Dude, there's no way-"

"I read the whole thing back to back, yeah, no, it's EXACTLY what you're thinking it is!"

Sam frowned. "What on earth are you guys-"

"Danny!" The trio turned around to see Jazz marching up to them. "Danny, did you-" She froze as she saw the rule book in Danny's hands. "Oh, you opened the pack, didn't you?"

Danny waved the cards around. "Yeah, I did. Why?"

Jazz frowned and straightened her back. "Cause I did too, and I got one of your cards."

Danny perked up. "Really? Can I have it?"

Jazz took a step back, and folded her arms across her chest. "Uhh…" She glanced up at Sam who walked over to Jazz's side. "No?" it shouldn't have sounded like a question, but it definitely did.

"He's already seen it," Sam groaned. "I'm telling him he can be mad about it-"

"Guys, guys, listen, my card's power is dying. It's objectively hilarious."

Jazz glared at Danny. "No, the card is… I mean… it's…" Jazz's righteous anger slowly fizzled out as she stammered, unsure of exactly what she was saying. Obviously she knew the implications of what the card was saying, but she didn't want to say it herself.

"Wait, wait…" Danny interrupted, shaking his hands about in the air. Before he pointed at Jazz and raised his voice. "You moved my clocks forward! I could have been sleeping!"

Jazz rolled her eyes. "You'll be thankful since you can actually get your textbooks because you got here on time." She huffed and ran a hand through her hair. "Danny, I really don't think you're getting how serious this is."

This time it was Danny's turn to roll his eyes. "The A-Listers made a stupid card game, tried to make a joke about me being useless, accidentally made a joke that is so accurate that probably every single one of us has wondered if the secret is out." At that, everyone else suddenly refused to make eye contact.

"I mean…" Tucker began scratching under his beret.

Sam coughed. "Paulina for all her faults is pretty observant."

Jazz huffed. "It's better than what this actually is."

Danny just raised an eyebrow at them and folded his arms. The silence stretched for a moment before Sam walked up to Danny. "Danny, you're my best friend. Sorry Tuck, no offense."

"Some taken," Tucker responded cheerfully.

"And because you're my best friend, I don't care if you are or aren't bothered by the stupid card. 'Cause I am. The school told my best friend he was worthless, and I'm not okay with that. Maybe they didn't mean that, maybe it just slipped through. But that's what this looks like to me, and probably looks like to all the kids in the school."

"Except for all the card nerds," Tucker chimed in.

"What?" Jazz asked, turning towards Tucker. "Why?"

Instead of an answer, the four of them jumped as screams came from down the stairs. The four exchanged glances before running down the stairs. They followed the screams and fleeing students back towards the school entrance, where almost everyone was fleeing from a terrifying ghost.

"I AM THE BOX GHOST!"

Terrifying if you hadn't been paying attention the entirety of last year, that is.

Five students groaned, Tucker, Sam, and Jazz all turned to see that Valerie had appeared. The four of them froze as one, realizing they were not as alone as they thought they were, and they started to think about how to get the others to leave so that one of the two ghost hunters here could fight the ghost in peace.

Except Danny was not having it.

"For the love of fudge and Clockwork!" Danny shouted, marching towards the Box Ghost. He snatched up one of the card boxes as he marched toward the floating annoyance. "You, Box Ghost. I have a box here, a shiny cardboard box. I give you this, you leave. Okay?"

The Box Ghost floated closer to Danny. "That is indeed a splendid box most shiny…" The Box Ghost mused as he rubbed his chin. Inspecting the box for blemishes and appropriate squareness.

Danny reached up and grabbed the Box Ghost by his shirt, pulling him down to eye level. He then whispered to him, "If you don't take the box and make like a ghost and disappear, then the next time Phantom sees you, he's gonna shove his fist so far down your throat you'll be tasting rubber for the rest of your afterlife.” The Box Ghost’s eyes widened, perhaps sensing that Danny was very much serious. He snatched the box out of Danny’s hands before floating back out of reach. “HA HA, the BOX GHOST accepts your tribute! He shall now go far away and uncover the secrets of your mysterious cardboard-!”

“We get it,” Danny growled.

The Box Ghost jumped back about three feet, before shouting, “BEWARE!” as a final farewell, and then flying through the walls.

Danny huffed and wiped his hands on his jeans before turning back towards his friends. He took two steps before he heard someone say, “Fenton?”

Danny turned to see Star peeking at him from behind an overturned table, apparently that was the source of the spilled boxes that Danny had picked from. Good to see that the training from the last year or so had stuck when dealing with ghosts. Danny reached down and picked up a couple of the boxes. Of the three he grabbed, one had masking tape on the back of it, like the one that had been given to him.

Danny juggled the boxes around to get a free hand to lift the table back upright. “I don’t know why you two are freaking out, it’s just the Box Ghost…” At their incredulous looks and Jazz clearing her throat behind him, Danny coughed and quickly added, “I mean… even I’ve stopped running from the Box Ghost over the summer.”

Star and Paulina looked at each other as Danny put the boxes down, though the marked box he kept. He ran his fingers over the masking tape and then gave a pointed look at each of them. Paulina looked at the box then at Danny, before recognition lit up in her eye. It was replaced a moment later as she realized that he knew what that meant. Her eyes widened and she glanced at Danny’s friends. Tucker and Valerie were picking up boxes, but Sam and Jazz were steadfastly not.

If looks could shoot ectoblasts, Paulina and Star would have gone ghost right there.

Paulina took a step back as Star held out a hand for the box, giving him her nicest, warmest, and fakest smile. “Well, thanks, Fenton!”

Danny pulled back and said, “I’m keeping this one.”

Star’s smile dropped just slightly. “Oh? But you already got one?”

Danny tapped on the masking tape with his index finger. “It’s got my card in it, doesn’t it?” At that Star’s smile dropped and her eyes went wide. Danny turned around and started walking away. He walked over to where Valerie, Jazz, Tucker, and Sam were all talking. “Hey, Valerie!” Danny greeted.

Valerie shifted uncomfortably. Glancing between him and the others.“Hey, Danny,” she greeted back hesitantly. Before he could ask what was bothering her, she barreled on. “What’s that about your card?”

Jazz turned toward Danny as he started tearing into the box. “The school made that card game, and everyone has a card.” She explained. “The A-Listers used the opportunity to try and bully Danny.”

“What?” Valerie gasped.

“Sweet!” Danny exclaimed after tearing open the packs. “I got two of mine!” He held them up in victory, but Valerie snatched them out of his hand. “Hey! Give me those! I fought a ghost for them!”

Valerie scoffed. “Yeah, right. Anyone with a brain can deal with the Box Ghost.”

“Which explains why the A-Listers were hiding from him.”

Valerie did not continue the quippy back and forth, instead her jaw dropped as she read the card. “Please tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”

“I don’t make a habit of lying,” Sam lied. Lying was second nature to all of them at this point, though Danny would admit he still wasn’t good at thinking on his feet. “The card’s only purpose is to get on the field and die.”

Danny snatched the cards back. “Guys, you’re making it out to be so much worse than it is.”

Valerie whirled on Danny. “Danny! This is awful! Look, I’ve looked past a lot of Star and Paulina’s stuff, but this is bad…”

Danny shuffled through the cards. “Guys, seriously drop it. I’m sure the A-Lister’s weren’t thinking, cause if they were they wouldn’t have made my card so strong.”

Everyone except for Tucker, who had actually read the rule book, looked at each other confused and managed to ask, “What?”

Then the doors of the building got thrown open. Some people screamed and dove for cover, others started running without thinking, while a few others turned to look at the new threat.

Maddie Fenton walked into the school building with fire and fury behind her. Her eyes sweeped the entrance hallway before falling on Jazz and Danny. She marched over to them, and Danny immediately went ramrod straight as he recognized just how pissed she was. He hadn’ seen her this mad since he had broken the vase she had bought.

(In his defense, it was haunted.)

“Jazz, sweetie,” she began, her voice icy cold. “May I see what you were calling about?”

Jazz produced one of the cards and handed it over to her mother. “Yeah, I got one right here.”

Danny opened his mouth to say something, but then thought better of it as he saw the look on his mother’s face. She growled and turned. “Come along kids, I’m going to have a talk with the school principal, right now.”

No longer in his mom’s sight, Danny found his voice, though his feet followed after her like a duckling. “Mom, please, listen to me. This is not that big of a deal!”

“I think I’ll be the judge of that, sweetie.”

“No, seriously!” Danny turned to Jazz as his mom marched through the school halls. “Jazz, please back me up!”

Jazz sighed and gave him a look like he should know better. “Danny, I’m the one who called her over this.”

Danny tried to argue his case with both of them, but made no progress. It wasn’t much longer before Danny was running a hand down his face as his Mom towered over Principal Ishiyama. “I would like to speak to whoever was in charge of the school’s card game.”

The principal looked behind her at Danny (who was mouthing an apology) and Jazz (who was trying to develop ghost powers to immolate someone with her brain) before meeting her gaze. “Uh… is there a problem?”

“Yes,” Maddie stated. “The teacher?”

“Well, the card game was made by the school’s art club so-”

“The art club has a supervisor. Who. Is. It.” There was no inflection in her words, Danny had heard her speak kinder to the ghosts she had captured.

The principal wavered for a moment before reaching over to her phone. She pressed a few buttons before the school’s P.A system turned on. “Would Mr. Lancer please come to the principal’s office immediately?”

“Sit, children.” Maddie ordered, and Danny and Jazz jumped into the chairs that were set across from the desk.

Once they were sitting, Danny frowned and noticed something. “Uh… should we leave a chair for Mr. Lancer?”

Maddie didn’t break eye contact with the principal. “No.”

They sat in an awkward quiet with Maddie glaring at Principal Ishiyama the entire time before Mr. Lancer stepped into the office. “You wanted to see me?” He asked, “I’m still setting up for class, so-”

Maddie turned toward him. Slowly and insidiously, Danny wouldn’t have been surprised if he heard the sounds of hinges creaking as her head carefully and measuredly turned toward his teacher. “You were in charge of the school’s card game?”

“Uhh, in a manner of speaking? I was just supervising, ensuring the students weren’t misusing school property, or fielding questions.” Lancer answered as he walked over toward the principal’s side. By the looks on their faces, neither knew what this was about.

“Hm,” Maddie vocalized, and Danny winced. That was not a sound of acknowledgement, but the sound of you-have-done-exactly-as-I-expected-you-would-and-now-I’m-disappointed-in-you which was a lot of information given in a single syllable but he was quite familiar with it. “And just how were the card’s strength and health determined?”

“Well, the rules are using power and toughness, but a card’s power was how many clubs and after school activities a student was in, while toughness was a base of 5, with an additional 1 for every grade of B or 2 for A, and a loss of 1 for every detention that a student had.”

The principal leaned forward and cut in. “Ms. Fenton-”

“Doctor,” Maddie corrected, and both Danny and Jazz winced. Their mother usually didn’t care about her title, stating she was a mother and wife first and foremost. She only insisted on being called doctor when she wanted to make a point.

It obviously threw Ishiyama for a loop. She cleared her throat and continued. “Dr. Fenton, perhaps you should explain what exactly-”

“Ms. Ishiyama, were you aware that Mr. Lancer here allowed the school to produce a card that implied my son had no benefit? That all he could do was die?”

Mr. Lancer’s eyes widened. “Excuse me! That is-”

Maddie refused to look in his direction. Instead holding up a hand to cut him off. “And that my son’s special ability is called moving on.”

At this point, Danny jumped up. “Hold on, can I get a say in this?” Danny waved his hands and stood next to the principal, who was beginning to turn pale. “Mom, that’s an inside joke of the school. You know I’ve had to go to the bathroom a lot ever since the accident, so when I have to interrupt class to, Mr. Lancer will give me permission and then say, ‘Moving on’. I know it looks bad, but it’s just an inside joke of the school.”

Mr. Lancer raised an eyebrow. “Thank you, Mr. Fenton, I-”

Maddie whirled on him. “Shall I also point out that you are also exposing students’ grades to everyone as well? You must have shared them if the cards are a reflection of their grades.”

Mr. Lancer folded his arms. “I did not, the students asked for a formula for making the numbers, and I ran it myself. The students don’t know anyone’s grades.”

“Yet, you have my son having a zero for his health?” Maddie snapped.

“Even if he had turned in all his homework with 100% grades, which everyone in this room knows he has not, with the number of detentions he has received the last year, he’d still be at a zero.” Mr. Lancer said, shooting Danny a look.

Maddie slammed her hands on principal Ishiyama’s desk. “Do not blame my son for this!”

The principal raised her hands. “Dr. Fenton, I acknowledge that we have done you and your family a major disservice. Even if it was an inside joke, the context is important,” she said, shooting Mr. Lancer a withering glare. “Dare I say, our English teacher should be more than aware of something like that.”

Jazz cleared her throat. “May I ask a question?”

Maddie leaned back and answered for everyone. “Go ahead, sweetie…” even as Danny was shaking his head no.

“Mr. Lancer, did you have any inkling of what was going on?”

“Excuse me?” He said brow furrowing.

“Were you or were not aware that it was very likely that the A-Listers, Star, Paulina, Dash, and Kwan were using this as an opportunity to bully my little brother?”

Mr. Lancer opened his mouth to respond before taking a moment to clear his throat and respond. “I did not know that they were intending to do this, no.”

Maddie frowned and Ishiyama let out a sigh of relief. But Jazz continued, “But did you suspect it? Did you have reason to believe that they were going to do this?”

Lancer was quiet and didn’t answer, instead he chewed on his lip for a moment.

It was a moment too long, and Maddie turned to the principal. “I want him fired.”

“I’m sure we can come to an agreement that doesn’t-”

“He’s either fired, or Fentonworks stops funding the school repairs and anti-ghost tech.”

Danny put his fingers to his lips and blew a shrill whistle. “Okay! Okay! No! Mom!” Danny clapped his hands in front of his chest before pointing at her with them. “They can’t fire Mr. Lancer, the school already is having enough trouble finding new teachers because they’re quitting the moment they hear about ghost attacks. Not only that, but if you stop helping the school, the school is gonna have to shut down!”

“Daniel,” Maddie started, her voice deceptively calm and collected. “If this school is not a safe space for my children, then it can burn for all I care.”

“OOooookay!” Danny shouted, holding up his hands. “I understand you’re upset, but-”

“Daniel. I get upset when your father eats more than his share of the mashed potatoes. I get upset when my experiments get ruined by ghost attacks. I get upset when you kids forget to do your chores.

“I am not upset. I am furious.”

“But I’m not,” Danny groaned, pointing at himself. “Look, I know what the card looks like, seriously, I do. Everyone is telling me to be mad about it, but…” He trailed off as he looked out the door and he ran to the door. “Hey! Hey! Mikey! Yeah, come over here real quick.”

He led the quiet nerd into the office and then closed the door behind him. “Okay, this is gonna be quick. You got the school game, right?”

Mikey adjusted his glasses. “Uh, yes, Star gave me a box this morning when I walked in.”

“Right, okay. You read the rule book right?”

“Of course! Front to back three times! I wouldn’t be a proud member of the game club if I didn’t!”

“How many Danny Fenton cards do you have?”

“I’ve gotten my hands on ten so far.”

“How much would I need to pay you in order to get you to give me those cards?”

“If Paulina came in here and asked for a date in exchange, I still wouldn’t give them up. You can pry them from my cold dead and nerdy hands.”

“No, seriously. I think I got like forty bucks in my pocket-”

“No.”

“Thank you, that is all.”

The principal frowned and watched as Danny pushed Mikey out the door and closed it again. “What was the point of that?”

Danny took a deep breath. “Mr. Lancer… do you have a deck?” At his teacher’s nod, Danny then asked a question. “You have several of my cards in your deck, don’t you?”

Mr. Lancer threw his hands up in the air. “I don’t. The art club wouldn’t let us cheat and build our decks with the cards we wanted. We had to draft them.”

“The point?” Maddie said huffing.

Danny sighed. “Yes, Dash, Star, Paulina and Kwan… I’m not sold on Kwan here, all tried to bully me by making a bad card. They failed so so hard.” Danny blinked. “In all honesty? The card is very accurate. The card game is about fighting ghosts. So, obviously I’m the most intelligent person in the deck, the moment ghosts show up, I’m outta there.”

“Into the graveyard,” Jazz snipped.

Danny rolled his eyes. “Fine, how about this? They can release a new rule book, one where the graveyard is called the discard pile instead?”

Maddie pursed her lips. “Danny, you’re really insistent this doesn’t change. Why?”

“Because I’m not gonna be happy if I don’t get to beat my bully at literally his own game.” The school bell rang and Danny started inching his way to the door. “Okay, Mom? You can hash it out with the principal, but no asking for Mr. Lancer to be fired, no threatening the school, and definitely no changing my card's effects? Okay? Please?” Danny thought for a moment and then tacked on, “I love you?” The fact that sounded like a question probably didn’t help his chances in getting her to calm down.

Maddie sighed and looked toward the ceiling. “Alright, alright.” She stood up. “I will let Principal Ishiyama here discuss with Mr. Lancer what they should do, but tomorrow I will be back. This time, with my husband as well. And I assure you, he won’t be as calm as me.”

The threat definitely worked, as both of them paled as they thought about what a rampaging Jack Fenton would be like.

The Fentons left the room together, and Maddie handed Jazz back the card. “I really don’t like this.” She said, though she didn’t seem surprised when Danny snatched the card from Jazz and put it in his pocket. “But you… seem to know what you’re doing?”

“The only request I have is that Jazz records it when Dash realizes how dumb he is.” Danny turned and then started running back down the hall. “Gotta get to class! I’ll see you guys later!”

Danny ran back to his locker, put the cards in his pocket away, and then ran to class. He turned the corner before a hand grabbed his shirt and slammed him into a locker. “Heard you went crying to mommy, Fenturd.”

“Dash, we have got to stop meeting like this.” Danny said, rolling his eyes. “And for the record, I didn’t. You pissed off Jazz, who then called my mom. I tried to tell her it was not a big deal.”

Dash hesitated, trying to slot the square peg into the round hole. Danny could practically see the thoughts slip out of his head before he got mad again. “Well, I guess I gotta crush ya before your mom ruins the fun. Lunch time, bring a deck.”

“See you then!” Danny saluted. His hand fell back to his side and he looked down. “Dash… aren’t you gonna put me down?”

“I’m thinking about it.”

“Well, I know this is gonna be hard, but can you think faster? I want to be on time to class for a change.”

A few moments later, Danny phased his way out of the locker he had been stuffed into. He sighed and brushed off shirt. “Man, I really hope I start taking more after my dad soon. I would love to not fit in lockers anymore.”

***

Lunch time came around, and Danny walked in with his head held high. Mikey might not have traded his cards for a date with Paulina, but Phantom signing the Phantom card (which was a 10/10 by the way, with both Teamplayer and Leader keywords) was worth the trade.

It seemed like the entire school was there waiting for this fight. Danny walked down an aisle flanked by students on either side of him that closed around him as he approached Dash sitting at a lunch table.

Danny stopped at the tablet. “Seriously, did you really pick the table furthest from the door? Are you sure you’re not one of the drama kids?” He turned toward Star, who was actually looking pretty uncomfortable. “Star, you’ve been in the school plays right? You should totally try to get Dash to join in this year, looks like he’d have fun with it.”

Star didn’t answer; instead she stepped behind Kwan, who looked a little sick, and Paulina, who was shifting around as the entire school stared at them.

“It’s time to duel, Fenton.” Dash said, slamming his palm against the table.

Danny rolled his eyes. “Alright alright, if you’re that ready to lose” he said, sitting down at the table. Danny took his deck out and started shuffling it. It wasn’t much to shuffle; the deck size was only twenty cards after all.

Dash frowned, but then drew his starting hand. “Good, I’m ready. As the cool one, I’m going first.” He smiled at Danny. “Okay, for my first card, I’m playing Danny Fenton!” He threw the card on the table, “Oh, whoops! He died.” He laughed and Danny looked over at the other A-Listers who were taking a slight step back.

“Well, moving on,” Dash chuckled. “I get to play another card. So I play Mikey! A 3/10 with supporter!”

“Ooh, look at you, already talking like a card gamer!” Danny crowed.

“Shut it, Fenton! I’m not a nerd like you!” He folded his arms. “It’s your turn now. I can’t attack on the first turn.”

Danny nodded and raised an eyebrow. “Did you remember to draw at the end of your turn?” Dash quietly reached over and refilled his hand before Danny made a show of thinking. “Hmm… which card, which card…” He tapped his chin and then shouted. “Ah! I know!” He put a card down in front of Dash’s card. “I play Danny Fenton!” He paused. “Oh shit! I died! Oh well. Anyways.”

Dash blinked. “You really used your stupid card?”

“Hey, it’s my turn still! Jeez, I can still do something awesome!” Danny thought for a moment longer. “Oh, okay, let’s try this! I play Danny Fenton!” Dash’s brow furrowed as Danny continued. “Oh shit, I died again! I hope it was a quick one! Like maybe my neck snapped. I’d hate for it to be a slow one.” The rest of the A Listers took another step back and tried to blend into the crowd as Danny made a big deal of his card dying. “It’s okay, thanks to moving on, I get another shot! Umm… Okay, okay, I got it. I play Danny Fenton!”

Dash scoffed. “You really put three of your cards in your stupid deck?”

Danny laughed. “Three? No. Dash, my deck uses fifteen of them!”

Dash looked around, seeing confusion on most of the nearby students. “Wait, wait, you really used half your deck for your dumb worthless card?”

Danny stared at Dash for a moment. “Okay, Dash, you wanna repeat that in your head and see where you went wrong?” Dash froze like a deer in headlights before Danny sighed. “Okay, I’m pretty sure your card is bunk because wow are you bad at math. That’s not half my deck, that’s three quarters.”

“Why?”

“Tucker, please explain to the man.”

Tucker stepped out of the crowd holding up the rule book. “Cards are broken down into four categories, zero star cards, one star cards, two star cards, and ghost cards. In order to play a one star card in a lane, that lane must already have a zero star card in it. In order to play a two star card, there must already be a one star card in that lane already. Ghost cards require a total of three stars worth of cards in the lane. For every card in the graveyard, the number of stars needed for a ghost card to be summoned is reduced by one by removing those cards from play.”

Danny pointed at the three Danny Fenton cards in his graveyard. “I needed fifteen to ensure my draw chances are good enough. Which they obviously are. Oh, and by the way… moving on. You know her, you love her, let us hear you scream her name-”

“Please don’t.” Sam called out from the sidelines.

“It’s Ember McLain!” Danny shouted as he put down an Ember card slightly to the right of the Mikey card. “Ember has the Leader keyword, which lets me put down another card. So let’s hear it for her backup singer, Danny Fenton!” he said, putting down his card again. “Oh, shit, she killed him! That bastard! Oh well… moving on.” Danny held up his hand. “Now, I only got one card left, so I have to play it, it’s Danny Fenton!”

Danny paused as he put down his card. “Okay, so I’m hoping you’re seeing where this is going.”

Dash stood up. “Hold on, you’re out of cards!”

“Tucker?”

“In a situation where you are asked to play a card but don’t have any in hand, then you draw another card.”

“So, I draw and let’s see, am I feeling lucky? Dash, can you do math? What are the chances of me drawing a Danny Fenton card? Come on, I know you can do it.”

“Fuck you!” Dash shouted, beginning to move around the table.

“What’s the matter, Dash?” Valerie called out. “Can’t win a card game?”

“A card game you helped make?” Sam jeered.

Dash froze, and Danny took the opportunity to draw. “Yes! I indeed drew a Danny Fenton card! So, let’s continue…” Danny flipped through his deck, drawing his card multiple times, before finally he drew a different card.

“Sorry Mikey!” Danny shouted, “You’re about to get stepped on by Ember!”

“Awesome!”

Danny pinched the brow of his nose. “I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that. Alright, Ember’s card doesn’t actually play a card, it’s using special wording so I guess that’s it.” He snapped his finger. “Oh, wait! It isn’t! I attack! Ember steps on Mikey, removing him, and then Ember swings and hits you in the face.” Danny smiled and leaned back. “Now it’s your turn.”

Dash stared down at the table, which hadn’t had his Mikey card removed yet. But it didn’t matter, because he couldn’t beat Danny. Danny had, on his first turn, effectively defeated Dash. The game wasn’t over, and it wouldn’t be for a while. It’d take multiple turns for Danny to win the game. But anything Dash could play would be immediately doomed to be crushed under Danny’s ghost team.

The rest of this game would be Dash getting wailed on as Danny chunked his health over the course of several turns, with the entire school watching.

Dash scoffed. “It’s a stupid game anyways,” he said, turning around and pushing his way through the crowd.

Danny stood up and grabbed Dash’s deck and waved it up in the air. “Wait, wait, Dash! Don’t you want your deck?” Dash predictably didn’t respond. Danny scoffed as Sam and Tucker approached him. “Yeah, that tracks,” he said, grabbing the hand Dash had left on the table.

“So, did Dash fill his deck with A Listers?” Tucker asked.

“Well, let’s see…” Danny said, flipping through Dash’s deck. He continued until he came across one card. “Oh come on!”

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked, looking over his shoulder.

Danny held out the card that was bothering him. “There’s an Inviso-Bill card!”

Sam gave Danny an unamused glance. “Really? You’re bothered by that, more than the fact that Dash set up a card that you instantly die?”

“Well, yeah!” Danny said, “My name’s not Inviso-Bill!”

“What do you mean your name?”

Danny turned toward the speaker. And as Star stared at him confused, he realized that he had completely forgotten people were watching. “What? I didn’t say that. I said his name isn’t Inviso-Bill.”

“Wait…” Valerie said, stepping forward, pushing a finger into his chest. “Is that what you meant by your superpower is to die on command?”

Danny turned toward Sam, who was the best liar out of them. “I don’t know what she’s talking about, do you?”

Valerie folded her arms. “My locker is just around the corner of the hallway where your locker is. I heard you say that.”

“And my cards! Phantom was asking for them earlier!”

Star gasped. “Wait wait wait, is THAT why you’re not scared of the Box Ghost?”

“...Uh oh…”

[snitling]

I've been thinking all day about the bit of the lunchroom tapes where John says "my jealousy for you" to Paul (italics are his), and did he mean jealousy like people tend to use it when they mean envy, or does he actually mean jealousy, meaning something he wants to keep all to himself

[got-ticket-to-ride]

Words of Love | Buddy Holly | John & Paul

I've been listening to Words of Love by the Beatles for a week now. Like nonstop on loop like a madwoman.

Originally released by Buddy Holly in June 20, 1957 just shortly before that legendary fete meeting.

I can imagine John and Paul listening to this record nonstop, bonding over the music and their love for Buddy in 1957.

Then in October 1964, they decide to cover the song. Harmonizing in typical Everly Brothers fashion, singing into one mic, eye to eye.

Eyes glinting, smiles in their controlled voices :

Hold me close and Tell me how you feel Tell me love is real Words of love you Whisper soft and true Darling, I love you Let me hear you say The words I long to hear Darling, when you're near Words of love you Whisper soft and true Darling, I love you

In 1985, Paul Mccartney sung the song all by himself. Without John to harmonize with. You know how John sings his Elvis tunes by himself reminiscing on his memories with Paul? I think that's what Paul does when he sings Buddy Holly songs.

“No, up until the advent of Buddy Holly, he would never be seen out with glasses, Buddy Holly, who was a big favourite of ours, wore glasses so John felt a bit better about wearing the glasses then…" ~Paul Mccartney

"I know that, because of the way I am, like when we were in Mendips, like I said, “Do you like me?” or whatever it is. I’ve always – uh, played that one." ~John Lennon while speaking to Paul from the Lunchroom Tape

This song particularly reminded me that John Lennon always needed the reassurance from his loved ones because of his abandonment issues.

[shybunnie20]

These are some thoughts I had about Eddie and Dustin’s friendship while listening to Black Sabbath’s Die Young. Plus a little video edit

Warning: Recounts of Eddie’s death, swearing

Perched atop the roof of the Munson trailer, Dustin bangs his head along to “Master of Puppets,” perfectly in sync with the whining amp beside him. It’s ingrained, thanks to Eddie, who introduced him to a different world of music. Eddie entrusted the younger boy with his cherished tapes, and Dustin wore them out, eager to report back with what songs he took a liking to.

Eddie’s bedroom was a sanctuary of sound where he assumed the role of mentor, guiding Dustin through the labyrinth of famous riffs and lyrics. Eddie was a purist, a devotee of the raw power of metal. He kept Dustin well-versed in the history of it and made sure that he understood that mainstream bands like AC/DC, Mötley Crüe, and KISS—while undeniably popular—fail to embody the true spirit of heavy music.

Eddie took it upon himself to school Dustin in the art of headbanging, imparting the proper technique. He demonstrated how to get the most movement out of their curly hair without completely fucking up their necks. Even so, pulling a muscle is a right of passage.

Dustin has never been one to shy away from being himself, and in Eddie, he found an older reflection. Eddie faces plenty of adversity being misunderstood, poor, and a failed graduate twice over. Despite that, he remains true to himself. In Dustin's eyes, he's the most badass motherfucker because he has heart.

Eddie sought out Dustin in the lunchroom, recognizing his younger self in him. He embraced Dustin wholeheartedly before they even learned each other’s names. Eddie shattered the assumption that high school has to be bleak for outcasts.

All of those moments have led to this. Eddie, whose light had shone blindingly, has been torn from the sky and lies on the cold ground. Gasping for breath with blood-stained lips, he insists that Dustin can become the man he can no longer be. 

Eddie gradually dims while wrapped in his friend’s embrace. With his dying breaths, Eddie pleads for Dustin to promise that he’ll lead their friends. With the agony of mortality closing in on Eddie, Dustin affirms his commitment to finding the strength to go on.

It’s a bitter pill to swallow, but Eddie needs Dustin to know that he believes in him. Dungeons and Dragons isn’t merely a pastime—it’s their haven. Hellfire Club is a family bound not by blood, but they’re family all the same.

Dustin nods, his cheeks wet as the tears roll from them. He isn’t sure that he can keep his word, not when Eddie is sputtering his parting ones. Amidst the thundering pulse in his ears and the sky, Dustin takes on the burden of etching every tremor of Eddie’s final utterances to memory. Each fleeting second slips away as the grains of sand cascade within the crystal confines of time. 

Eddie is more than someone Dustin shares memories with, and the moment Eddie’s heart stills, he has become one himself. Eddie is now a memory devoid of breath and a heartbeat, a distant echo of what once was. Yet, Dustin will remain steadfast in his resolve to resuscitate the essence of who Eddie was.

While he never got the chance to showcase his talent for more than a few drunks at The Hideout, Eddie did get to play for Dustin. He got to headline the most metal concert in the history of the world with his best friend.

Eddie the Freak, Eddie the Banished, Eddie the Remembered.

★My Masterlist

[callme-dickmaster]

Sweetheart - (eddie munson x reader)

Ch. Two - Stev

summary: the day drags on at school and tensions are high between our oldest step-siblings. pairing: eddie munson x fem!goth!mayfield! reader warnings: 18+ (minors dni) this is obnoxiously long, unfortunate use of y/n, me projecting my love of corn, language, mentions of abuse, billy hargrove, very light bullying -i think that's all- author's note: these parts are coming out so fast omg. I have pretty much the whole story written already I just need to put it on tumblr with all the extra stuff and whatever. am so excited for this one. love you <3

Series Masterlist

Y/n was afraid of third period. It was the only class she didn't have with Nancy so far, and it was the only class she could potentially be embarrassed in. Needless to say, she was nervous.

She tried to hide and walk in the room, but the teacher saw her.

Of course, he did.

Thankfully, he didn't make her introduce herself and let her pick a seat anywhere. Y/n sat down swiftly in the emptiest part of the room. She pulled out a book and used her bangs as a cover for her face. Thank God this class was the shortest. She jumped as someone sat down directly next to her and tapped her shoulder.

Y/n slowly peeked out of her hair at the person.

"Robin! Thank fuck! I was so worried I would be by myself!" Y/n exclaimed, putting her book back in her bag. Robin laughed and took a peek at the book Y/n just put away.

"You like Stephen King?" Robin asked.

Y/n nodded with a big smile. "Me too! We should read one together! That would be cool," Robin said.

Y/n agreed and with that, Robin started rapidly talking to her about literally anything and everything. That day ended up being more of a free day than an actual class and Robin looked at Y/n's schedule.

"Nice! We have first through third, lunch, and gym together!" Robin said.

"That's good, man. I hate gym! I've been faking ankle injuries for years," Y/n said, pulling a rolled-up ace bandage from her bag. Robin covered her mouth and laughed, "You gotta teach me that one," she said, giving it back and offering Y/n some headphones.

"Wanna listen to music with me?" Robin asked, a crooked smile on her lips. Y/n nodded, putting the headphones on and leaving one off her ear to talk some more. Robin did the same before popping a Fleetwood Mac tape into the Walkman. Y/n unconsciously bopped along to the music as they talked. The bell interrupted them mid chat about one of Y/n's tattoos, but they kept it going in the halls. Y/n tossed her bag into her locker and grabbed her jacket before following Robin to the lunchroom.

Y/n passed the lunch lady five dollars and smiled when she was given extra corn and another biscuit.

"Ah, hey. I gotta sit with the band kids today. It's some, like, unspoken rule that on game days you have to sit together. We can sit together tomorrow!" Robin spoke. Y/n smiled and nodded, nudging Robin's shoulder, and sitting down with Nancy, a few random people and that guy from before.

"Wassup, wassup," Y/n greeted, sitting across from Nancy and the hair man. They all greeted her, and hair dude introduced himself first.

"I'm Steve Harrington," he said, expecting some kind of reaction like everyone else so he could say no and stay loyal to Nancy. "Y/n," she replied simply, shaking his hand before fist-bumping him. Steve stared a little wide-eyed at her. He liked her already.

"So, what's with all the corn? Where did you get extra food from?!" the girl sitting next to her, Samantha, asked, noticing she had two of almost everything.

"Paid the lunch lady. It worked in Cali," Y/n shrugged, taking a spoonful of corn and humming in satisfaction. Steve and Nancy smiled at their trays trying not to laugh at her. "I like corn, dude!" Y/n laughed, triggering the table's laughter loose. They were interrupted by two guys coming up to the table and standing behind Y/n.

"Yo! Freak!" the shortest of the two, Tommy H, spoke first. Billy didn't say anything, just glared down at his stepsister. Y/n took another bite of food, dusted off her skirt, and turned in her seat. The boys had little smirks on their faces at their height over hers until she stood up. Tommy's face dropped as she stood over them both, looking down at them.

"I want you to repeat that," Y/n said nonchalantly.

"Uh, what?" Tommy laughed nervously.

"Repeat what you said! I didn't hear it the first time," she replied cheerfully, earning snickers from Steve. "Billy just had a question for you," Tommy mumbled. Billy stared at her blankly before holding his hand out. "Oh! My bad," Y/n laughed, pulling some money from her bra and giving it to Billy. "Have fun, make friends! Don't spend it all in one place!" she said, waving as they walked away. "I carry our lunch money. He can't keep track of it," Y/n rolled her eyes playfully.

"Who is that by the way? He's been here five minutes and he's already acting like top dog!" Another girl, Anna, asked. "Oh, that's Billy. He's my dumbass stepbrother. Yeah, he's used to being popular, so I guess no point in starting over," Y/n said.

The rest of Y/n's school day was filled with the same routine. Walk in, introduce herself and feel like an idiot, talk to one of her new friends, take notes, and grab catch-up work. Y/n sighed in relief at the last bell and walked out to Billy's car. He was already there and smoking a cigarette. Max was rolling down the hill, meeting the two at the car. Y/n with her arms in the window and prepping another joint, and Billy still smoking without a care in the world.

"Hey, pissant," Y/n greeted, "Hey, Ace," Max smirked at Y/n's fake glare.

"Can we go?!" Billy shouted.

Y/n opened up the car door, allowing Max to jump in the backseat. Y/n glanced around before licking the paper and rolling it up the rest of the way. She flopped into the passenger seat and leaned into Billy's light he had opened and ready for her. She coughed a little as she inhaled and rasped out a "sick!" as Metallica blasted through the speakers.

Y/n was squinting and humming to the music in the car as Billy and Max started yelling at each other. "Yo! Yo! HEY!" Y/n yelled over them, "Shh. You are so loud and for why?" she said quietly.

Billy rolled his eyes and swung the car into the arcade parking lot. Y/n and Max both got out, Max flipping Billy off as he drove away, and Y/n traipsing inside behind her. Two middle school boys ran up to the doors but didn't go in. They watched the two girls play different machines, "Is that Y/n?" Dustin asked, pointing to the girl in all black.

Lucas shrugged, putting up his binoculars to see Y/n leaned on the machine lazily playing Ms. Pac-Man. "Yep. That's her," Lucas said. Dustin's eyes widened and he pressed his face to the glass again. "No way!" he exclaimed watching her play with a bored expression on her face.

Dustn took a second to look at Y/n while Lucas oggled Max. There weren't many (if any) goth people in Hawkins, so her look was definitely new to them.

Dustin liked it.

taglist: @sisgotdemons @tlclick733 @deafeningmoontragedy @marjoriea13 @playfuloutcast @twosluttychains @leetaeilsnecktattoo @lil-quinnie @razzles-bottom-lip @originalstar1 @yessargeantbarnes @bebe0701 @shotgunhallelujah @uselessastheginlasagnaa @mynameismothra @niragis-right-hand-rabbit @shecagobaby @moviefreak1205 @munsonmunster

<3

[voraciousvore]

The Half-Blood Giant (41/51)

***Contains unwilling safe soft vore and fatal hard vore/ gore***

Chapter 41: Predator

“Hunter… I haven’t eaten since…” Hannah shivered at the memory of the giant swallowing her whole. “I haven’t eaten in almost two days… and I’m so thirsty…” 

“I’ll take care of you, my pet,” Hunter purred down to her, his voice rumbling through his vast chest. Hannah wanted to retch at the pet name, which was far from endearing considering that she was his captive. He sat up and got out of bed—a simple act for him, but Hannah could feel the raw power of his muscles as he moved, fully aware of his immense size compared to her. She was terrified of what he was capable of if she angered him. She kept silent as he took her to the sink and held her next to the faucet so she could drink. She slurped the water greedily until her thirst was slaked. 

“We’ll have to go to the cafeteria for food,” Hunter informed her. “However… I can’t have you making any noise…” 

“I promise I’ll be quiet,” Hannah piped up, a bit too eagerly. Hunter looked down at her cupped in his palm, tilting his head skeptically. Hannah flashed him a weak, uncertain smile. If she could just get around other people, where her cries could be heard, she’d have a fighting chance…  

“No…” Hunter mumbled, shaking his head. “That won’t do.” As he examined her, his huge eyes lit up. “I have an idea.” He stomped around the giant dormitory, jostling Hannah in his enclosed hand as he searched for something. Hannah grabbed his fingers for support, feeling dizzy from all the movement. Finally, he found what he was looking for and triumphantly held up a roll of tape. Hannah’s heart sank into her stomach. 

Hunter cut a small strip of fabric off the edge of an old shirt that no longer fit his tremendous bulk and handed it to Hannah. “Put this in your mouth.” 

Hannah stared at the rag in her hand before looking back up at Hunter, eyes blazing. “Absolutely not!” 

The giant loomed over her darkly. She couldn’t help but cower as she craned her neck back to meet his eyes. “It’s either this, or you go back in my stomach.” Hannah stuffed the rag in her mouth so fast she almost choked on it. “All the way, Hannah.” Eyes watering, she forced the last bit between her jaws.  

Hunter gestured for her to collect her hair and lift it up. Once she complied, he wrapped a thick strip of tape tightly around her mouth and head, looping it several times before sticking it down. He made sure not to tape her nose so she could breathe. Hannah tested the gag and tried to talk, but she could hardly make a single sound. Her voice was muffled enough that no giant would be able to hear her, even if one was standing right next to Hunter. She tugged at the tape with her fingers, but it was too tightly wound and heavy-duty for her to peel it off with her teeny nails. 

After a moment of consideration, Hunter bound her wrists and ankles with tape as well. She shot him a scathing glare, but he was pleased with himself. “It’s for your own good, my pet,” he assured her, dropping her into his pants pocket. As much as he would prefer to hold her in his hand, or put her in his breast pocket, he worried she would be spotted with how frisky she could get. He stuck the roll of tape in his opposite pocket. 

He was grateful to have her restrained and silenced after the bell rang, because soon enough his classmates came swarming back. Hunter sauntered off to the cafeteria as if nothing were amiss. He noticed that his constant cravings to eat humans weren’t as strong, now that he had eaten a few and kept Hannah in his belly for so long. Even his regular hunger was subdued. He wondered to himself, yet again, if his body was feeding off of more than just their physical forms. He almost appeared to draw magical energy from consuming them. His height expansion didn’t hurt his body so much. 

He picked up his supplemental meal from the lunchroom and snuck over to one of the empty classrooms. He didn’t find it hard to avoid people or stay out of sight, since he could sniff them out long before they could see him. He shut the door behind him and waited until the building was mostly deserted before removing Hannah from his pocket.  

“Remember, keep your voice down,” he admonished firmly. “Any excessive yowling or trying to run, and you’ll be a part of my dinner right here.”  

Hannah gave him a timid nod. She trembled as his gargantuan hands reached for her, surrounding her. He was as gentle as possible as he carefully peeled the tape off her head. Tears came into her eyes as a few tufts of hair were ripped out, but she didn’t whine or complain, even when her face was free. She spat out the thick rag in her mouth and flexed her cramped jaw. Hunter released her little arms as well, feeling how small and delicate they were as he pinched them between the plump tips of his fingers. His heart burst with adoration for her, and even more so when he remembered that she belonged to him now. He couldn’t resist, while he was holding her arms, leaning his head down a pressing a soft kiss on her diminutive hands. Hannah whimpered with fear and trembled as his warm breath bathed her palms. Her memory of being eaten alive was still too fresh in her mind. 

Hunter’s lips lingered on her hands. With her so close to his mouth, his stomach came alive inside him, like a hungry beast awakening from a long hibernation. He wanted to taste her again, to feel her inside his mouth and gut. His lips parted. Gently, he ran the tip of his tongue over her feminine hands, dissolving into sensual bliss. Hannah tried to pull away, but she couldn’t escape, even when he only held her arms gently pinched between his finger and thumb. Her struggles only excited his predatory appetite further. 

The giant managed to restrain himself and released her hands. She wiped her hands on her pants with disgust. She wanted so badly to run, to scream obscenities at him, to lash out—but she knew such actions would be folly. The last thing she desired was to arouse the wrath of a giant who held so much power over her. 

Hunter served Hannah a human-sized portion of food and began demolishing the lion’s share of his meal. She forced herself to eat, despite her nausea. As she watched the giant shovel in mammoth bites, she was reminded of her burning question earlier. With the overwhelming stress and fear she was under, just trying to survive with Hunter, she had forgotten about Hector. She almost didn’t want to ask, because she feared the truth. On the other hand, not knowing was worse. She procrastinated, finishing up her meal while the giant aggressively scarfed down his. When it was all gone, he looked disappointed, as if the nutrients were insufficient to sustain his mass. She didn’t like the wolfish gleam in his eye as he turned his attention back to her. 

“Um, Hunter?” she began nervously. He leaned in with interest, his chair creaking under his weight. Hannah licked her lips, but forced herself to continue. “What happened to Hector?” 

Hunter’s countenance twitched with an inscrutable, yet intense, emotion. “Nothing,” he lied.  

“Tell me the truth.” 

“I am.” 

“I know he went missing.” 

“That had nothing to do with me.” 

“Bullshit.” 

“Don’t try my patience,” the giant growled with the undercurrent of a threat, but Hannah was undeterred. Now that she initiated this line of questioning, she was certain he was obscuring an ugly truth. 

“What did you do to him?” Hannah’s voice cracked with intensity. Hunter, enraged by her insolence, smashed his fist onto the desk next to her, eliciting a frightened yelp. The vibration knocked her over and she scurried to the opposite edge of the desk, as far away as she could get. His face softened slightly as he saw how much he had scared her. 

“Come here, Hannah,” he said in a low voice as he circled his hands around her. She pushed against his palms in resistance as he reeled her back in. He set his chin on the desk and gave her a doleful look, studying her. She was frazzled, upset, overwhelmed. He didn’t want to tell her, and distress her further, but she wouldn’t believe his lies any longer; he had no choice but to cast aside his deceit. “I don’t know how else to say this…” He bit his lip. “Hector’s gone.” 

Hannah stiffened. “W-what do you mean?” she stammered, despite knowing exactly what he meant. She didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want to believe it. She wanted to squeeze her eyes shut, cover her ears, and scream. Yet, she stood frozen, pushed against Hunter’s palm, intensely aware of every intricate detail from the ridges of the skin to the bones and muscles underneath. She focused in on those details, every sensory input, not wanting to see the bigger picture. 

“Hector’s dead. I ate him and digested him,” Hunter admitted. He betrayed no remorse. The murder had been premeditated, calculated, ruthless. Hector was nothing more to him than an obstacle in his path that needed to be snuffed out. A piece of meat to be eaten. His kindness, his empathy, all his efforts to take the initiative to be a good friend to a loner—wasted on a brute who eliminated him as soon as he got in his way. 

Hannah suspected the truth, but to actually hear it confirmed directly from the giant’s mouth brought her to her knees. She was in shock, hardly able to breathe. Her eyes welled up with tears and her mouth gasped open and closed like a fish. “No…” she whispered. “It can’t be…” 

Hunter didn’t know what to say, so he merely observed her mental breakdown in silence. She pummeled his palm with her fists and cried for a while, until she ran out of energy and slumped to the surface of the desk in despair. Hunter allowed her to lay there for a while as she sobbed and moaned. He stroked her gently, but she didn’t seem to notice or care. She didn’t react, even when Hunter nudged her into his hand and held her against his chest again, or when he taped her up and gagged her, forcing the rag into her mouth when she wouldn’t do it herself. She was completely broken. She went limp in his pocket, swayed by the massive pillar of his muscular leg as he walked. 

While Hunter had expected this sort of reaction from her, he hoped that she would recover quickly. He figured she just needed a little time. He reached his hand into his pants pockets and encircled her loosely with his fingers. He caressed her back with his thumb, trying to soothe her. He continued about his business for the rest of the day, taking her out of his pocket when he was alone and holding her tenderly. 

His heart ached to gaze upon her in such defeated despair, but soon his thoughts turned more to his aching belly. Her superlative scent made his mouth water with hunger. He craved her flesh to fill his empty stomach, which pined for her with a low rumble. Hunter didn’t want to leave her wrapped up in tape all day and night, and he couldn’t leave her unattended while he was asleep. He figured the best and most logical choice was to eat her: The fact that he desperately wanted to eat her may have influenced his line of reasoning, of course. 

When he was ready to sleep, he stepped outside into the cool night air so nobody would witness him devouring her or overhear her screams. He paced off a little ways to a secluded spot and started peeling the tape off her limbs and face. The patches of skin exposed to the tape were red from the pressure. Hunter rubbed the affected areas down with the tip of his finger to recirculate the blood. Hannah winced, but she was too drained to protest or resist. Besides, she was weary of her restraints. 

Hunter permitted her a moment to enjoy the cool, calm night, before she would be swallowed down into the much hotter eternal night of his belly. The streetlights cast soft, bright haloes to illuminate the sidewalks and living sparks of flying moths and insects. Crickets and frogs chirped in a melodic ambience. Hunter sighed, drinking in the cool breeze and absently playing with Hannah in his hand. She seemed to take no solace in anything around her. What a shame. 

“It’s time for bed, my beloved,” Hunter remarked with a yawn. Hannah failed to react, not realizing through her fog of mourning the intent behind his words. Hunter raised her up over his head and opened his drooling mouth wide, wanting to savor the moment as long as possible. His belly growled fiercely with longing.  

Hannah snapped out of her stupor. “Wait, no!” she screeched as he lowered her, kicking and flailing, towards his open jaws into her worst nightmare. His tongue emerged from his mouth like a coiled snake and licked the entire length of her leg, from her hamstring to heel. Hannah shrieked and tried to bat his tongue away, but Hunter just chuckled and hummed with delight over her irresistible flavor. 

“It doesn’t matter what you do, you have no strength to resist me,” Hunter purred, lowering her between his lips and teeth. Hannah screamed and punched one of his front teeth, only managing to bruise her knuckles. His tongue rose up again to receive her, curling around her back like a hammock. Hannah stared down in horror at the fleshy abyss of the throat below her, the muscles and tonsils throbbing slightly as the giant prepared to swallow her. She tried to brace her hands and feet on the slick, bumpy surface of his tongue, but she couldn’t gain any sort of hold and slipped down uselessly.  

Her screams were cut off as Hunter let go of her, dropping her all the way inside, and closed his mouth. He intended to play with her on his tongue originally, but her squirming and screaming excited him so much he couldn’t hold himself back. She slid straight into his gullet and he swallowed eagerly, sucking her down his throat with ease despite her struggles. He sighed as his throat muscles shuttled her down to his belly. He could never tire of the feeling of eating a living human. The experience was such a rush of exquisite pleasure. He wished he could keep her inside him forever.  

His nose twitched with the recognition of a nearby scent, and his eyes glowed as they caught the light, just like a wild beast. Hunter scowled as he lunged forward to a patch of untrimmed grass. A squeal emitted from the inadequate hiding place as the giant’s fingers pinched a tiny teenager concealed in the weeds. He lifted the wriggling human with a nasty glare. 

“Ah! Let go of me! I didn’t see a thing!” the student, a miniature male, cried out with terror. He realized immediately he had fumbled his words and bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. He wailed as Hunter’s huge eyes squinted into a hostile glare that curdled his insides. “Please, I won’t tell anyone, spare me!”  

Hunter hesitated for only a moment as he regarded the tiny student in between his fingers. He recognized the boy, with his little glasses. He was the one that Hunter confessed his secret of being part human. He knew too much already; Hunter needed to get rid of him, which he was more than happy to do. In that moment, Hunter realized the truth: True to his name, true to his nature, he really was a hunter, a predatory beast, just like his father. The giant blood ran strong in his veins. His bloodlust was overpowering, his desire not only to eat his prey but to enjoy the hunt, the kill, the slaughter. He wanted to rip and tear. 

So he did. He inserted the screaming human in his jaws and bit down with a satisfying crunch. A warm burst of blood filled his maw and he greedily slurped it down, gulping severed limbs and entrails along with it. A few more crunches and the boy was gone. Hunter sucked the blood off his teeth and licked his lips and fingers clean. The human tasted exactly how he smelled—just like a hot dog. Contented, Hunter returned to the dorm, collapsed into bed, and fell asleep. 

Inside his belly, Hannah heard Hunter swallowing and the splash of chunks falling into the acid pool. She didn’t want to know what else he had ingested, but the churning of the stomach inevitably brought her in contact with a severed arm. She felt the distinctive structure of the fingers and hand and recoiled in horror as she recognized what it was. She nearly vomited in disgust. Hunter had violently eaten another human—just like he did to Hector—and now she’d be swimming with the liquefying remains all night. If she had the faintest inclination to sleep, which she certainly didn’t want to do after the last time she slept and ended up in Hunter’s bowels, any hint of it was banished. She was haunted. If she fell out of favor with Hunter, she had no doubts he would digest her too. She needed to find a way to escape his clutches, at any cost. 

Chapter 42

Chapter 1

[nimuetheseawitch]

lunchroom sudoku 👀

I think this one is really cute, and I should definitely convert my extensive notes into an actual complete story. It's a no stargate AU where everyone works for some nameless corporation. Rodney mostly keeps to himself and has a routine of doing the sudoku in the newspaper that gets left in the lunchroom every day until one day he gets there for lunch and someone has already done it! He is furious and hides cameras in the lunchroom to figure out who did it, and then kind of stalks John, who works nights to work with a team in a different time zone. Rodney eventually leaves a scathing note about how it's impolite to ruin the sudoku for everyone else, and then John starts leaving him handwritten sudokus and other puzzles taped to the paper. Eventually, Rodney figures out this is John flirting with him when John stays up late enough to catch Rodney as he gets into work and asks him out for coffee.

Inspired by my own workplace (pre-COVID) and the friend who used to write me personalized crossword puzzles in math class at university.

Excerpt below the cut.

Rodney sat down at the lunchroom table, nodded in silent acknowledgment of his coworkers, and took refuge in the newspaper. He didn't bother to have the paper delivered to his home anymore, instead paying for an online subscription, but there was something satisfying in unfolding the newsprint and the feeling of cheap paper and cheaper dyes. He also used it as a convenient excuse not to have to talk to anyone during his half-hour respite from the work day. 

He had finished his lunch (an indulgently large burrito from the stand across the street) and read through both the news sections and the opinion section when he turned in anticipation to the puzzles. Puzzles and dessert were two of Rodney's favorite things and he lets himself indulge in the sudoku and a pudding cup as his reward for making it through yet another morning of office drudgery. So you can imagine his indignation, nay, horror when he scanned down the page only to find the sudoku had already been perfectly completed! He set the paper down in shock and glanced covertly around the room to look for any likely culprits, but it was just the usual handful of people quietly eating lunch: James in the corner with his earbuds in, Martha down the table reading yet another dimestore paperback (this one looked like sci-fi, but her taste seems to run the gamut of genre fiction from mystery/thriller to bodice ripper and everywhere in between), and Ben, who spends his lunch break curled over a cup of coffee and his smartphone next to the outlet. No one new, no one paying the slightest bit of attention to him, and no one who could possibly have sabotaged his weekly ritual.

His afternoon was shot. Rodney spent most of it bitching at Zelenka (who was possibly only still his friend because they worked in different offices) over IM in between unfortunately mandatory meetings. Around 4pm, when there was no chance of him getting anything productive done before heading home, he gave in and called Zelenka to tell him about the sudoku thief and how whoever it was had completely thrown off his rhythm.

[i-am-the-oyster]

At least one of that group knew a hidden microphone was in Michael Lindsay-Hogg’s arsenal. Ringo and George Harrison found that out the previous week; they just didn’t know where or when their hired documentarian would deploy it.

“This is the bugging device, so we can surreptitiously bug your showbiz conversations,” Michael openly boasted on January 9, the day before George quit.

[thestarsarecool]

Ok I don’t know why and maybe it’s just me, but I honest to god do not care that much about the editing choices in Get Back that cobble conversations together and show alternate footage. I just don’t think any of the editing decisions deeply misconstrue what is happening. The alternate footage thing I just kind of accepted from the get go and never really bugged me. The cobbled together conversations are slightly more annoying. The worst example is probably the lunchroom tape, and even that I don’t think fundamentally changes THAT much?* The doc is trying to give an accurate portrayal of what happened at large and I believe it succeeds in that mission. I don’t expect it to be more than the cliff notes of what actually happened, and it’s a damn good cliff notes in my opinion. The nagras (and multiple other resources) are still there for historians to use. My only wish is for Peter Jackson to release cleaned up audio (and video footage?) as a sort of official bootleg? What a boon for historians that would be. I doubt Apple would allow that though.

*I guess this must bug me more than I admit to myself though because I have already written multiple drafts of a letter asking PJ to release the full lunchroom tape with audio all cleaned up as a special exclusive bonus episode. You know, “pay $5 to see the full unedited private conversation on the day George left the Beatles!” A thirty minute or so bonus episode is the perfect length and it has such a strong draw. It may be longer though cause sometimes two conversations are happening at once so maybe you would need to put those separately if the audio could be extracted? And PJ already essentially admitted to the full convo not just being John and Paul in the official Get Back book, so that may not be that big of a problem. I need to hand write it all out and find the correct address. Maybe we should all join in a letter writing campaign together lmao.