#20 January 1988

[pinkrelish]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶What happens when Eddie tries to hide the less-than-fun side of being a single parent from you, and you discover Miss Mouse can't always save the day?✶

NSFW — angst with a happy ending, reader wears eddie's hoodie, comfort, kissing, 18+ overall for smut, drug/alcohol mention/use

chapter: 11/20 [wc: 14.2k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12

AO3

Chapter 11: In the Beginning...

——Then——

In the beginning…

It was January 31st, 1988, and Wayne had come in to check on him again. And maybe he had a reason to when Eddie continued to stare at the pockmarked ceiling, dressed in the same clothes as three days prior, laying on the same bedsheets last washed by well-meaning, pre-aged, liver-spotted, wrinkled hands gnarled from factory work after being tanned on a big rig’s steering wheel for decades.

No music played from the stereo record player; The Doors still sat with the album art turned, stopped mid-spin. The paperback on the nightstand remained unfinished, its dog-eared page trapped as a placeholder from New Year’s Eve. Dust and cigarette ash clung to the room as if saving it in a time capsule of the morning he was arrested, and any movement would disturb the illusion.

“Eddie?” Wayne called out to him with his Free name; one that shouldn’t hold a stigma, because Eddie was a free man, wasn’t he? He was innocent. Even if they hadn’t caught the other guy yet. “You okay if I go?”

Tracing the bumpy lines of the most recent tattoo on his stomach, he answered, “Yeah, I’m fine,” and his uncle breathed as he usually did when he was wringing his mouth with indecision.

Wayne twisted the doorknob, uncertain. “If you’re sure.. And, uh, I’ll stop by the hardware store and pick up somethin’ for the spray paint on the trailer if the cookin’ oil trick doesn’t work, don’t you worry about it.”

Whatever rude thing someone wrote this time, Eddie hadn’t gone outside in days to know.

After a long silence, Wayne cleared his throat and gave a gruff, “I’ll see ya after work,” and left, as foretold by his rackety truck fading further into the night, and the deadness of winter taking over. A staleness of midnight inactivity in the crisp air invading the guitars and amps and magazines Eddie never touched anymore; the ceramic of his bedside lamp, the model car next to his lighter, the binders stacked on his desk with a pencil he hadn’t sharpened since it broke six weeks ago. He didn't get much relief from his routine of ignoring, shutting down, isolating, and desperately trying to get tears to form when he had none left to give, so he wept agape and dry, spiraling downward.

The phone rang.

He wasn’t going to answer—he hadn’t since December unless under obligation—but in case it was Wayne, he did.

“Hello?” The other end of the line was equally hesitant to answer his unrecognizable voice, gone hoarse from disuse. “Hello?” he repeated.

“Eddie?” A beat. “I guess I’ll get this over with. Look, uh, do you remember selling to a girl at Brad’s party a couple months back? Not the Halloween one,” they said, definitely a young woman’s voice, but with each word spoken she lost her fluttery nervous edge and replaced it with a direct tone, leaving no time for him to dawdle.

He hurled his mind into searching his memories before the ones made in the weeks prior, only grazing past the details which haunted him, and registering the question he was asked. “Uh, yeah, yeah I think so. Ah, Sarah? Something generic like that. Sold to her a couple times before. Why?”

Her severe silence loaded the chamber. His forthcoming nature pulled the trigger, never learning when to shut his mouth and keep information to himself. There was no telling who he was speaking to, or what happened to the girl he sold to, or why he was the subject of interest. His stomach clenched in knots at the whiff of gunpowder. He was too relaxed at the prospect of a normal conversation. He said too much. It was happening again. The police sirens would wail any minute now. Whatever happened to Sarah—or whoever—was bad, and he incriminated himself. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.

But it was her next words that fired the shot. Rang in his ears. And he knew then, as the cold sweat took over his body and bile stung his throat quicker than his heart leapt black spots to his vision, life as he knew it was over.

“I’m pregnant, and it’s yours.”

————

In the beginning…

It was March 7th, 1988, and Eddie walked out.

It was better than listening to Wayne blame himself for not doing enough, or being involved enough, or whateverthefuck he was saying about failing Eddie, because soon those judgments would turn into nags about how Eddie’s irresponsibility got himself into this mess, and those arguments would become shouting matches about his lack of preparedness for raising a baby, and Eddie would end the fight with his fist through the hallway closet door, where his piece of shit father’s jacket swung on the hanger and fell to the floor.

Following the Munson name.

————

In the beginning…

It was April 29th, 1988, and Eddie left his motel room to drive forty-five minutes outside of Hawkins to sit across from a woman in a dimly lit restaurant with her hand laid atop her round belly, and his cold chicken alfredo. The cheese in his oval shaped dish had coagulated, but he wasn’t hungry anyway.

The entire time his mouth ran sentences, he kept his gaze focused on a crumb dirtying the white tablecloth as the candle flickered shadows through their untouched water glasses. Yet, his tone remained animated and optimistic, though a bit hollow. “—So, uh, with the money from workin’ at the gas station, and what I have saved from that graveyard shift I picked up at the laundromat, I can afford the crib no problem. Maybe you could, ah, come with me to pick it out! I don’t really know what I’m supposed to be looking for, but whatever you want, you got it. And—And I’ll start stocking up on diapers, and stuff. Y’know, different sizes. Some clothes. Could even get a nice baby blanket, or somethin’. I guess cribs have those teeny mattresses, so we’ll need sheets for that, too. Um, one of those, y’know, things that hangs over it and spins, puts them to sleep.” His lips hinted at his first smile in weeks at his dumb explanation for a mobile. “And with your job, you have health insurance, don’t you? That’ll.. That’ll really help us out,” he emphasized by bugging his eyes, and nodding. “There’s a position open at an auto shop in town that I’m gonna apply for, but I don’t think insurance will kick in until I work there for a certain number of days. Sucks, but it’s decent money. Better than what I make now, anyway. Um..” Thinking, he sorted through his plan for the future in his head, making sure he didn’t forget anything important—

That’s when he made the mistake of looking up, and a different type of heartache wrung his chest.

Indifference powdered her shimmery beige eyelids, darkening to smoky apathy at the outer corners with a touch of heavy mascara weighing her eyes half-closed. She appeared bored—he wished she appeared bored—but in the eternity he glanced at her, she resembled a loaded chamber moments from cutting him off.

Continuing, he said, “I can also handle the small stuff like bottles, and bibs, and pacifiers. Depending on how much the crib is, I can probably swing the carseat too, just gotta sell my other guitar, and—”

“Eddie,” she stated. He winced.

There was no trace of his smile left on his lips; trembling and licking at the sore metallic-tasting spot he bit out of habit. The first sign of rejection welled behind his eyes. A sense of shame clogged his throat, but he tried, “Are people still bothering you about me?” he asked, so meek and defeated.

Her words were a merciless killing, “Does it matter?” He shrugged, running the side of his hand along the table’s edge, concentrating on the crumb. “And don’t bother buying anything.”

“Why not?” he faltered. “I’m not gonna be some deadbeat who doesn’t provide, okay? I’m good on my word.”

“You know why.”

The cruelty, the truth he denied, struck him.

“You don’t want to try?” His voice went watery, and the candles swam in his vision. “We’re having a baby together, and you don’t want to try and work something out between us?” There was a reason he avoided addressing where the crib would go, or what the arrangement was after coming home from the hospital. In the first few calls they had, she seemed interested when he rattled off the list of cheap apartments he found around Hawkins scribbled into his notebook, and when he lightened the bleak mood with a joke, she laughed, sort of.

Though, he was always the one to call her, and her answers were refined to short words such as yeah, or no. And she did pick up the phone less often, but she was busy with University or her career or there was a family thing that had come up or she was just headed out the door, so he stuck with planning their future by himself, aware of the ugly reality twisting his stomach with dread.

Maybe he was being naive, but he thought she’d come around by now. See how responsible he was being, and maybe.. maybe..

“I’m not interested,” she dismissed him in monotonously stern frankness.

“I thought you said you liked me,” he reminded her, on the verge of something pathetic, “at the party.”

The corner of her jaw twitched from an emotion she ground between her teeth.

That was the final straw.

She swung her gaze around the restaurant, releasing a hard sigh of frustration, and shaking her head. Dropping her hand to the bottom of her belly, she leaned forward, and eviscerated any hope he had for them being together. “I’m not interested,” she hissed under the susurration of nearby tables, “in raising a baby with someone whose reputation is for giving girls discounts when they flirt with him.”

Eddie shrunk into himself, not expecting the hit below the belt.

“You’re just the loser dealer that all the guys send their girls to because they know you’re too lonely to turn them down. I wish I stuck with flirting, because let me tell you, having a couple of smarties to get me through last semester wasn’t fucking worth it.” She motioned at her stomach, he assumed. “I almost missed my finals because I couldn’t stop puking.”

Fat drops wobbled his vision. Anxious sweat from holding his breath prickled his hot face. His knuckles hurt from clacking them against one another, punching bone-on-bone in his lap to distract himself from letting the venom win. Biting impressions of his teeth into tongue from the weight of his one chance at normalcy slipping through his fingers.

The ache of deep-seated rejection stung worse, built worse, escalated worse with every heartbeat echoing in his head: not even someone who’s having your kid wants to be with you.

Chairs skid across the tiles behind him, and a family stood to leave. Eddie faced the stained glass window as they passed, pretending to admire the intricate details while warm tears spilled over the dam, and onto his cheeks in steady drops like rain. Drip, drop, drip, drop..

Embarrassment, failure, freak..

Even before he was wrongfully arrested, his reputation was trash.

Pathetic loser not good enough for his dad, his uncle. Can’t pass fucking high school, or get a girl to stick around for more than a few weeks; just long enough to feel the safety of attachment, learn their likes and dislikes, what their favorite flowers were, and then they’d leave too..

“Doesn’t matter,” she exhaled. One, two—she took two calming breaths through her nose while his was running, and he was trying to not sniffle through the grossness of crying.

Composed and diplomatic, she sat up, smoothed the buttons of her burgundy maternity blouse stretched across her swollen middle, and informed him “I’m giving her up for adoption.”

Eddie froze.

Her.

Tiny tines of salad forks ceased clinking on plates. Silly dull knives unworthy of much else sank into whipped butter, and stopped. Pretty laughter faded, leaving red lipstick kisses staining the rims of wine glasses.

Her.

He froze. A strange cliche to explain how his body reacted. How his heart pounded, and tears splashed onto his clenched fists. How his brain latched onto one word, one word only, and the blood drained from his cheeks to pool liquid rage in his empty belly. How his temper surged like a wave, and crashed, again and again on the shore of fate. How he was thinking sharper, seeing clearer, smelling the raw flame of the candle being snuffed out from his sudden movement.

The tableware rattled when he planted his elbow next to his forgotten dinner, and pointed a stern finger at her stomach. “That’s my daughter, and you will not—”

“C’mon, Ed—”

“No,” he cut her off. He didn’t give a damn if another tear rolled from his wide eyes when he said it, he put conviction behind his voice even when it cracked, “That’s my daughter, and you are not giving her up for adoption.”

“Be serious,” she spat back. “You don’t have the means to take care of a baby. I’m doing this as a favor for the both of us. Mostly for you.”

Eddie sucked his bottom lip inward and chewed the flesh. Shivers of indignation trembled his body, and his nostrils flared from the absolute power he invoked to rein his voice from the snap, bite, snarl his upper lip suggested. “I don’t care what you think is best,” he maintained through the viscous tar coating his refusal in the abhorrence she deserved. “That baby.. She’s mine.” He nodded until the motion was ingrained, and her expression changed. Pointing to himself, now. “She’s mine, and I want her.”

There wasn’t much thought put behind his decision. It was done. It was innate. It was automatic, and her soft warning—”You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,”—was as heeded as the candle’s flame.

He paid for the date. It cost five hours of his minimum wage. That was all his money. He was hungry when he got back to his shitty motel; opening the door to darkness, and a suitcase of dirty clothes he’d need to sort before going to work at the gas station at the edge of town where his boss cut his hours last week because it was making customers uncomfortable to see a criminal serve them at the till, and a new sound replaced the ding of the cash register: loser, loser, loser..

Already, he couldn’t afford diapers.

Already, he failed.

Already, he was worthless.

Already, he was alone.

Not even the woman he was having a baby with wanted to be with him.

——Now——

Eddie hung up the phone, and you watched his shoulders rise and fall for long moments, listening to the rain pattern shift above. The storm spilled its sorrows on the tin roof, uncaring if the structure could handle the stress of another trial when it was weak and susceptible. It poured, and poured. Ruthless. Vicious and brutal as nature could be, targeting the vulnerable and strong alike.

His back broadened with a breath, and finally, he dropped his hand from the yellowed plastic, staring at the dial pad as his arm went limp at his side. Absorbed by his thoughts as the old night rolled into another low growl of thunder, and whatever was on his mind reflected heavily in his vacant appearance.

“Ed?” You waited for him with a kind lift to your brows, but as soon as his glance landed, your chest tightened.

The emotion in Eddie’s eyes was heavily guarded, communicating little as to what caused the tenseness in his jaw when he averted his gaze to the floor, walking fast and purposefully away from you standing half-dressed in his kitchen, and stopping at the front door with his head down. Going through the motions of buttoning his pants, and buckling his belt, rigid and rough, snapping the leather against itself.

“Is Adrie okay?” you asked, voice coming out painfully shallow, like when you were using it to diffuse a customer service issue with the breeze of happiness and a plastered smile.

Leaned over, he shoved his feet into his boots, and began lacing. “She’s fine.”

Blunt, and closed off. Not like your Eddie from an hour ago. And you didn’t know how to navigate asking him what was wrong, and easing him into opening up to you, coaxing him back to that place of union and understanding.

Left feeling confused, you gleaned that this wasn’t the time to bother him about it, and mumbled, “Okay,” and assumed the rest. You dragged the whispery ends of the blanket across the floor, and picked your sweater off the carpet, having that particular sense of embarrassment as if you’d missed a cue, and should’ve read the room sooner, and been clothed and leaving without him asking.

You dressed in silence, doing up the buttons on the cardigan he so skillfully slipped you out of. Treading over linoleum to wash the evening off your hands and mouth. Making yourself small to fit next to him in the entryway, and putting on your shoes in a state of quiet obedience, missing the warmth of his hands and the comfort of his lovesick grin. Wilting under the coldness of his attitude, and wanting nothing more than to reach out, and soothe that bit of regret knotted between his eyebrows.

He regarded the exposed skin of your upper chest, and handed you his black hoodie from where it hung next to his canvas work jacket. “Here.”

Here wasn’t much of a break in the distance he resurrected between you, but you pulled the heavy scent of cigarettes and cologne over your head, and he almost found himself braving eye contact to tell you, “I’m dropping you off first.”

“What? No,” you blurted, “I’m going with you to pick her up. She’s just scared of thunderstorms, right? No big deal, you can drop me off after.” Which seemed like the right thing to say; that you were fine with Adrie crying, but when he set his gaze on you, a small image of yourself swam in his endless pupils, and your stomach clenched at the animal warning in his unbreakable stare.

Eddie shook his head an imperceptible amount, only enough to loosen the curtain of curls tucked beneath his jacket’s collar, and shift the lamp’s glare at the edge of his bitter coffee eyes. It was a threat to back off. Leave well enough alone. Stop encroaching on the parts of his life he hid, and keep the illusion intact.

“I wanna go,” you assured gently.

However, your support fell short when challenged against the aggressive shine swallowing you whole. He looked at you. Really looked at you with the same intensity as when his hands were on your hips and you rocked yourself in his lap, chests flush together with a lazy prayer of your name on his tongue; when nothing mattered more than honoring each other with lips and teeth, tasting sweat on necks and sucking bruises until moans were spilled from heads thrown back. But instead of unraveling you in shocks of pleasure, the ignorance of your child-free lifestyle softened the harsh lines of his face, and slowly, slowly, the shine dulled. The fight left him.

He saved his apology until his back was turned, and the squeaky doorknob gave under his heavy palm—turning it with too much force—and he cracked open the world beyond the two of you, dousing the lingering tenderness of your affection on his skin with frigid mist. “Sorry tonight ended this way.” The door banged open on the rusted iron handrail, caught on a gust.

The trailer park was bright with daylight. Flash, after flash.

Eddie’s silhouette eclipsed the doorway, outlined in lightning. He stood impossibly taller—like the animal threat still lurked within his structure, and caution stayed within your subconscious, altering how you perceived his lanky frame into something more imposing. His shoulders carried many burdens, bulked from five years of hard labor, possessing strengths you couldn’t imagine. He stepped to the side, insisting the door stay open with the spread of five fingers only, and his body no longer shielded you. You were exposed to the cold splash of rain on your shins. His palm was firm at your lower back, and you peered up at the hard set of his jaw feathering the muscle at the corner, sweeping the bone in a mature edge of stubble. Strands of his frizzy hair whipped in the wind. Droplets speckled his nose like freckles. His gaze, anchored on his car through the downpour, brewed with resentment.

His deep timber resonated in your chest beneath the safety of his hoodie, “Car door’s open, I’ll lock up behind you.”

And you were pushed.

Beaten down to a hunch, you took careful strides in your heeled shoes down the concrete steps and into the soft mud, covering your head as best you could from the cloud’s assault, and flinching at the closeness of the strikes darting around the boundary of treetops surrounding the trailer park. You tried the handle, and the car welcomed you into its dry insides. Guilt followed your tracks of caked on mud, leaves, and dead weeds on his nice red interior, but when you shivered to the bone, you didn’t care as much. Curled in on yourself, you spied Eddie’s vague shape through the waterfall blurring the windshield, and listened to his heavy boots trudge up to the door, and soon, the car sank with his weight too.

The engine roared to life. Heat wouldn’t come from the tiny AC units for some time, but the promise of such gave you hope. Eddie, beside you, drenched beyond measure, did not match your enthusiasm. Shadowed streams snaked across his pinched expression, swimming down his heavy brow, and splitting his raw lips. His bangs stuck to his forehead, and his cheeks trembled from his clacking teeth.

Soft music played from the radio station.

Riders on the Storm.

Two booms of thunder ended your small attempt at a smile from the timing.

Leftover adrenaline pulsed in your veins, fumbling your grip on the seatbelt. Wet earth and unease stroked your skin like skeletal hands, muddying your tights, and soaking his hoodie, weighing it down to your crushed sweater beneath. You wanted to speak; to poke, to prod, to press him to talk to you. The questions were there. On your tongue. At the ready; inviting him to tell you why his mood soured over a situation out of his control, other than the obvious weather.

But Eddie’s face was carved with irritation, baring his teeth as he attempted to buff circles into the icy fog on the windshield, only for it to cloud over in an instant. “C’mon..”

The wipers couldn’t keep up with the powerful current, and the tires struggled to find traction. “Fucking—damnit,” he said, interrupted by him slapping the steering wheel, cascading water off his work jacket, and onto every surface around him.

You twisted your hands in your lap at his mild slip in temper.

Now was not the time to bother him.

In a lurch, your shoulder bumped the door, and your head rocked side to side from the car backing over the swell of mud behind the tires. With another frustrated stomp on the gas, it evened out on paved road, and though the visibility was low, you were off towards the nicer side of Hawkins.

For once, he drove responsibly. Street signs could be read before he passed them. Fallen limbs in the road could be avoided, not ran over. His rings tinked off the glass when he rubbed at the thin fog, and the music was dialed to a somber ambiance behind the deep sighs through his nose. Dark stretches of treetops bent to the wind’s will. Short buildings sat so dim beyond the faint streetlights, they might as well have been deserted. Each red light was a necessary break for him to shove his fingers in the air vents to thaw them.

He never spoke. Never looked at you. He kept himself busy with tasks, and when those tasks were over and his hands were defrosted and the windshield was mostly clear, he regressed within himself. Unnervingly quiet. Turning onto streets with heavier regrets sagging his features the longer he crawled in front of white picket fence houses, and stopped.

The two story home was lit beautifully by the ornate sconces placed on either side of the doorway. Their lawn was manicured, and the sidewalk was free of weeds. No cars were at the mercy of the storm, they were parked inside the two-door garages. There was activity behind the embossed curtains hung in the living room of the residence. Presumably, the biggest shape was the father who called over the phone.

Someone who wore a business suit to the preschool’s Thanksgiving play lived here.

Eddie stalled. He remained seated forward, hands gripped at 10 and 2, squeezing the steering wheel as rain echoed in the belly of the car, battering the roof inches above your damp hair. There was a pause in his movements, his breathing. An awareness in his silence at the questions you didn’t ask. Tension in his pursed lips, rubbing them together as he surveyed the street.

He opened his mouth. Then, he thought better of it, and got out.

Your earnest call of his name was swallowed by the sea cleansing his body of your night together.

Leaping up the bullnose brick stairs, Eddie raised his hand, but before he could knock, the artisanal stained glass shimmered with movement. The immaculate door opened to a winced face. The man’s glasses were askew on his aged eyes, and his peppered hair hung over his eyebrows, no longer gelled back. He exchanged a few tight words with Eddie as Adrie was handed over, and Eddie, of course, shuffled into a meek posture, dipping his head, apologizing profusely. Almost bowing to this man dressed in matching pajamas and a robe. In horror, you watched the door close during one such apology. You could tell it happened in the middle of him speaking, because you had to sit through the agony of Eddie animatedly explaining something only for him to look up, straighten at the realization, and stand there for a few more seconds until the sconces dimmed off.

Worse, still, he cowered in the nook as cruel rain belted his back, doing his best to bundle Adrie in her tattered quilt and securing her on his hip, keeping all of her dry except her little legs wrapped around his middle. She buried her face in his neck, and he hesitated on the balls of his feet, judging the distance between the house and the car. His large palm covered the blanket over her head. All he had was his jacket.

Lightning revealed his weary frown.

At the clap of thunder, he sprinted.

Back in New York, at the going away party your friends threw in your and Robin’s honor, they warned you about moving to the Tornado Alley, and what to look for if one were to appear—green skies and all—but most importantly, they told you an incoming tornado sounded like a train. Being city dwellers, they wouldn’t actually know, but Robin confirmed it. And now you could too, because the piercing wail coming towards you could only belong to a natural disaster, not a four-year-old girl.

Murky water flooded to Eddie’s ankles from where it rushed against the sidewalk, sloshing in with his boot stomped to the floorboard for balance as he ducked inside amidst the fuss. He got Adrie into her carseat as quickly as possible. In the chaos, her overnight backpack fell somewhere in the dark, her quilt was chucked aside, and he cursed when the buckle bit into his thumb. She had a fistful of his hair, tangling it, making it harder to see what he was doing. He may have even threatened her full name to let go. It was hard to hear on account of the shrieking.

“Daddy!” The vowels were elongated, broken by hiccups. He shut the door, and in the small space with no escape, her big emotions rang louder. “Daddy!” Again, the y was screamed with the full power of her lungs, which would be impressive for their tiny size if it wasn’t for the pounding in your skull. She hollered louder when he sat heavily behind the wheel, “Daddy!” He didn’t shush her fourth tantrum spilt on his name; he accepted it, knowing it was futile.

It took all your strength to blink. Sat half-turned in your seat, frozen, gaze unfocused, marveling at your brain’s ability to function. You shifted your attention to Eddie’s face, a surprising few inches from yours.

The heat of his concentration scorched shame to your cheeks.

Avoidant no longer, your reaction to Adrie’s meltdown was the sole subject of his interest. Zeroed in on, dissected, and picked apart by just his eyes alone. Didn’t matter which eye you shied from, you were pinned in both, your discomfort blatant for him to witness. Your clamped mouth, your apologetic withdrawal, your fidgety fingers on your skirt; all of it. All of it was captured in his periphery because he didn’t dare break sight as he turned the key in the ignition, and started a raucous engine you couldn’t remember being turned off.

Humbled by the girl assaulting your senses, your questions were answered.

This was why he didn’t want you to come. This was why he slighted you with a pointed look from the recesses of his annoyance when you trivialized his daughter’s behavior as ‘No big deal.’ This was why he kept you separate from his parental sphere where everything wasn’t made of sunshine and rainbows. This—coming to terms with your inexperience staining each uncontrollable contortion of your unprepared expression—was why he never let anyone near his heart.

Adrie could no longer form his name through her open-mouthed cries, resorting to plain, wet screams which trilled past your eardrums, resulting in a throbbing headache.

At that, he grasped the gear shift, put his boot to the gas, and cut fat lines through the river overflowing the pampered neighborhood streets.

Eddie’s anger was a presence. His embarrassment, too. Just like at the auto shop when problems stacked and stacked into an unbearable weight on top of his sleepless nights and long mornings, he turned inward to delay his outburst. To feel everything so fully in his fists wringing the leather covered steering wheel until it creaked, and teeth gritted until they begged no more. Just that one second to release his frustration, and then it was suppressed from sight. But you felt it. His ire rested below your braced muscles, beneath your clammy palms and in your shallow breath. It invaded the tidy home you kept behind your ribs, taking up residence in your hammering heart.

The humiliation of having the date end when it did paid its dues in his bad mood. Disappointment radiated off his narrowed eyes, and slack frown. “Adrie,” he warned in a low tone.

She bawled louder, shriller than the crack of lightning.

The immense pressure to adapt was upon you. There was no sense in parsing what he expected you to do in this situation, it was clear he was soured by your ineptitude the moment you let it show on your face, but.. Only two short weeks ago, he relied on you to divert Adrie’s meltdown before DND night. And sure, she had already stopped crying by the time you got there, but you could come to his rescue again, couldn’t you?

You twisted around in your seat, proud of yourself for thinking of a solution, and showed him you could handle a modicum of parenthood. “Adrie, look!” you tamped down your children’s television host voice to a delightful, excited cheer, “I’m here. Miss Mouse is—!” Shocked with your hand reaching towards her, shooting pain traveled up your arm from her swift kick to your wrist. You recoiled, rubbing at your forearm without blame. It wasn’t her fault. She wasn’t even looking at you. Her fit was directed at the window she couldn’t peel her attention from, dropping tear after tear from her swollen eyes at the thunder shaking the car. “Adrie?” you tried softer, but she beat her hands on the carseat harder. Wailed until you were defeated to a wince. Yelled until you accepted a unique heartbreak you weren’t prepared for.

Miss Mouse couldn’t always save the day.

Acute twists of rejection wrung your chest. Eddie wasn’t the type to say I told you so, he wasn’t mean like that, but when you sat forward and your gazes moved past one another, never quite meeting, you knew what he was thinking.

Little else stung worse than his obvious cynicism at how this date was concluding.

Exacerbating the issue, Adrie escalated to screeching her distress. Every open sob of hers pulled your focus, invaded your brainspace, overpowered any thought before it began, and set your teeth on edge from the high-pitched squeals you swore vibrated in your bones. Her behavior seeped into your nerves, winding them up, scratching them with the very tip of a brittle nail, inciting a riot. The need to flee crawled under your skin. Breathing was uncomfortable. Your ankle hurt. There was to break in between the blinding pulses of your headache. The car was too hot, too cold, too swerving from the high winds buffeting it sideways. Your tights were too tight. His hoodie too stifling. Itchy yarn from your sweater chafed your damp neck. Alarms of panic battled inside. Louder, louder, louder—Adrie cried louder. Eddie’s lips tugged down at the corners, chin wrinkled, tensing his face from a sadder response. Your lashes fluttered from the chokehold his frown had on you. Fingernails bit your palms. You tried to bide your time, to resist snapping. Dug down deep for something, something you could do, something.. innate. Some answer within you to fix it all. To get her to stop. To get him to relax. Something, something, something—instinctual.

“Pull over!” you barked; Eddie had every right to whip his head around at your sudden demand, but in your panicked state you only cared about the road ahead. “Ju-Just—just—” You scanned the dark parking lot outside the hardware store, and stabbed your finger on the cold window, pointing past it. “The gas station! Under the roof-thing.”

When it wasn’t clear he heard you, you turned towards him at the same time he leaned forward to catch your eye. Justifiable skepticism burdened his brow, tightening the edges of his crow’s feet. His lips hung parted with a confirmation hesitating between them; however, it was silenced after you maintained your need, and the fight against the wind won.

Soppy pebbles scraped wet asphalt, muddied in the bump and grind from Eddie turning too sharply into the sloped driveway, banging into a pothole, and rattling the innards of his already rocky cargo. He careened towards the closed convenience store with its row of dim fluorescent lights inside. Pulling up alongside the gas pumps, he slammed the breaks. A second later, he slapped the windshield wipers OFF, violently shushing their grating squeak.

His patience strained thinner. Working through the sensory overload festering like infected wounds on blistered skin, he rumbled a shallow apology past his aching teeth. Quickly, it devolved into a barrage of doubt. “Look, I’m sorry she—Wait, where’re you—?” The instant fear of rejection shot past his octave. “Wait! Please don’t—”

Cruelly, he thought; heartlessly, he knew; the sun-faded black cotton draped about your shoulders was the last image his adrenaline latched onto, playing it over, and over, door slam and all. He wasn’t parked for more than a clock tick, and you hurled yourself out into the storm, leaving him behind. His first assumption was gentle. Kind whispers stroked the angst in his chest, telling him you needed a break from the noise, that was all. Then the hatred of abandonment gutted his center.

“Giving up already?” he asked aloud in a conclusion only meant to hurt himself when no one was there to answer.

As if sensing his hopelessness, Adrie sniffled into the worst of her hyperventilated cries. Broken disjointed things. Sinking him deeper, deeper into his seat, crossing his arms over his caved chest, shuddering at the hot sting wobbling his vision at his own inadequacy.

Never good enough for anyone to stay.

Tremors of repressed memories wakened the churn of nausea making him sick.

“Baby, baby, it’s okay,” soothed a voice behind him, trickling in with the splash of faraway drops. “It’s okay, sweet baby, I’m here. I’ve got you. I’m here.”

Eddie jerked his chin up and stretched his neck to see into the rearview mirror. The wall of water teetering on his lash line made everything blur, so he tugged down the slick skin beneath his eyes to suck back the tears, and almost allowed them to spill at the scene behind him anyway.

In the reflection, you crawled across the backseat and unbuckled Adrie’s carseat, learning how to maneuver the straps from watching him. She reached for you, your hair, your clothes; small fists belying their strength. You didn’t care. You calmed her struggles with pretty words. “It’s okay, yeah, you can hold on to me, baby. Let’s get you wrapped up nice and warm. There we go.” Shhh. “Let me see your face, so I can clean you up.” Shhh.

“M–M-Mizz Mou—se,” Adrie got out between body-wracked sobs.

“Mhm, I’m here.” Shhh. “Miss Mouse is here.”

—Oh.

“Baby..” So modest was his whisper when so resolute was his yearn.

He leapt into motion, flushed with adrenaline.

The ripple effect of your actions caused tidal waves to swell and crash over him; body hitched in the place where his past convinced him he lost it all, only to collapse into a stuttered exhale of acceptance, understanding there was someone out there who cared about him to this degree; throat constricting with gratitude he could only express by stumbling out into the foggy cold, throwing open the door, and sliding into the backseat with you.

His fingers grazed the baby hairs at your nape on their way to the side of your head, using his wide palm which took up too much room to cradle you steady with a gentleness unknown to his tough skin. He trusted you to forgive him for how hard he knocked his forehead to your temple, and smashed his nose to the soft of your cheek. He need not worry. Beautifully, you adjusted to the bulky arm behind your neck, leaned into the crook of his body he hollowed out for you, and filled the familiar place at his side. You worked diligently to clear his daughter’s face while he passed a strong hand over her back and dropped it to shape his grip at the end of your thigh, curving his fingers in and slotting them to the underside, behind your knee.

“S’okay, Adrie,” you cooed, wiping at the sticky grossness clinging to her nose. “I’ve got you,” you continued the mantra, albeit with a lapse in motherly tenderness as a result of trying not to gag too hard.

Outside the car, the gas station’s tall canopy provided enough coverage to stop the rain from pounding the roof. Harsh winds howled past, encouraging the woeful sobs dropped onto your breasts, but the lightning stayed within the clouds, and the thunder faded in the distance. “Look at me,” you guided, sweeping the hoodie’s cuff over her puffy cheeks glowing splotchy red from the neon beer signs in the postered up convenience store windows. “We’ve got you. Nothing bad can happen when we’re here.”

Eddie lips pulled thin against your skin, breath stuttering damp and thick on your neck like a smothered cry.

“Nothing bad can happen when we’re here, okay?” Repeating the union of you and him, you went on, “We’ve got you. You’re safe with us. Nothing bad can happen when we’re here. Right, sweet bean?” You tucked the quilt around her feet, and held her close. “We won’t let anything bad happen to you, ever.”

With her hands latched into the folds of fabric around your neck—cotton, yarn, and canvas—her big coughs were cushioned by your arms snuggling her to your front while Eddie’s chest was at her back, embracing her between your two bodies converging to protect her in a toasty nest. Warm air hummed from the vents, shooing off the stale chill clinging to the backseat, now disturbed by activity and plucky guitar strings playing over the radio.

Across the Universe.

Undertaking the complexities of the man rubbing his forehead into your hair with the same sort of neediness as his little girl wringing your clothes, you assumed the responsibility of consoling them both. “Nothings gonna change my world,” you mumbled the lyrics into the patchwork quilt covering Adrie’s curls. “Nothings gonna change my world,” you sang to Eddie, face tipped up and eyes falling closed, seeking out his nose to trace the tip of yours along the soft bumps in a devoted offering after the turbulent events causing you both inner strife.

His fingertips became an imposing force spread across the scope of your cheek, turning you toward him, capturing you in a deeper kiss than you were ready for. It was demanding, hard with desperation, misaligned and urgent. Born out of necessity in the moment. He kissed you in front of his daughter, where she could see if she picked her face up from your chest, and a dart of surprise lit your heart at the recklessness. You kept a level hand atop her head in case he’d come to regret the decision, but he didn’t seem to notice, or care. He sighed into a second helping, and at the sound of the wet smack, she stirred.

Adrienne hooked her fingers into your collar and sniffled hard, soothing herself from further cries by hugging you tight, huddling into your comfort, oblivious to what was happening around her.

Easily, you fell into the third kiss. Became what he needed, mouths mashing together at the odd angle, your lower lip plush between his. Dizzying amounts of reverence manifested in his spontaneity. He packed a lifetime’s worth of bottled up feelings into the affection he was privileged to. Giving, and taking. But his impulses were still a puzzle. When he’d drank his fill, he squeezed your leg, broke apart from your lips in a silent slick slide, and drew a deserved breath.

“Sorry, no one’s ever just.. done that for me before.” He shrugged his hand off your thigh at the poor summary of the millions of things on his mind, and left it at that.

Spurred by the praise, you seized the opportunity for communication. “Remember how before we played DND that night, I told you to call me first next time you needed help?” you reminded him, and something vulnerable, maybe even pleadful, entered your tone. “I want to be someone you can rely on, Eddie.”

An unfortunate amount of complicated emotions passed in his eyes. There wasn’t much to garner from them, nor his soft grunt when he dropped his nose to the column of your neck, above Adrie’s head, and regressed into his quiet self. Reserved. Hard to decipher. He did speak up once to warn you she would fall asleep with how you were holding her—same as he did most nights on the couch while Late Night with David Letterman aired—and you embellished your promise to him with a kiss to the stringy curls frizzing at his scalp, “That’s okay.”

And it was okay, truly, when the storm raged heaves of rain against the car, spraying the windows with shocks of water. You dabbed Adrie’s cheeks. Wiped her nose. Rocked her in the same tempo as the backs of Eddie’s fingers stroking your cheekbone, flexed bicep behind your neck. Thunder occurred. Lightning happened. But with your quick thinking, lulling gestures, and genuine effort to speak past the fondness clogging your throat, you calmed her. Calmed her so well, in fact, her hands went limp and her body relaxed, fatigue claiming her victim to the numbered sheep hopping over fences in her dreams. After her tantrums, she was taxed out. Drained.

Stuck in the cramped middle between Eddie and the carseat, you rearranged your legs before they went tingly numb from her weight on your lap, and shifted the pressure off your heels. It was sweet having her fall asleep on you. Her slow breaths filled your arms as a reward for your efforts to hush her. The quilt smelled of their home, cozying itself in your lungs and sweeping you in a sense of longing for the humidity in his kitchen after making soup.

Though, as much as you thrived on the temporary role you played as parent—taking over for Eddie and dwelling on the fact Adrie slept propped on your chest like the many times she napped on his stained coveralls—you could do without the additional pain of him leaning on you too.

You groaned at the sharp twinge in your spine from slouching sideways, and conveniently, your movement roused his consciousness. He launched into a sleepy inhale. Robust, filling his lungs to the brim, too loud, too silly and sweet. He primed you for a solid press of the bridge of his nose to your jaw by thumbing you towards him, after which he pulled away, separating himself from you fully.

Eddie rolled his shoulders, stretching out from the uncomfortable position, and faced the window. He commented in a sincere tone, “You’re good with kids.”

“I know how to entertain kids,” you corrected him. “I don’t know how to do any of the hard shit you do.”

The streetlights painted strokes of dotted orange on his complexion cast in shadow. He played with the tips of his fingers, squishing each one in a line as he ruminated, staring elsewhere, perspiration blurring the outerworld, sealing yourselves in this crowded car together. “You do a good job,” he reassured, petering out in a hoarse whisper.

Ceaseless nerves gnawed at his absent-minded ring spinning. Not a big production like when he wrung his hands or bit his nails, but enough to show he was getting anxious. You’d expected his leg to be bouncing by now, but it was laying softly against yours. Something big was on his mind.

You bumped your knee into his. “Talk to me.”

Talk to me. Yes, you asked the world of him. You knew it, too. Encouraging his gaze to flick to Adrie bundled in your arms, and back to the window. His eyes weren’t wide with fear, just larger than normal at the subtle confrontation. It was time he opened up to you. There wasn’t a concrete ultimatum if he didn’t, but there was a mutual understanding that if this were to continue, he needed to trust you to be there for him. No more reluctance.

He extended his hand towards your knee, patting twice before claiming it in the great breadth of his palm, stroking his thumb over the thin pantyhose; bridging the gap from his earlier behavior, but not yet apologizing for the soreness he caused.

Sorting his thoughts, his throat bobbed twice on the swallow.

And of all the questions he could ask, of all things he could say, of all the topics he could choose, he picked, “Did you ever want kids?”

Heat swam to your cheeks, blood rushed to your ears. Buds of true belonging bloomed at the question, adorning stems of untended longing first planted during the Christmas party at work, ever growing. Your heart pumped faster at the inherent past and implied future of the subject. His curiosity was a mild prod, perhaps not meant to encourage these leaps in logic considering he announced it in the same buckled cadence of someone who was asking about the weather—and yet, the hold it had on you was impossible to deny. A blend of you, Adrie, and him, just like now, but in different contexts—different meanings other than sitting in the back of his car—something domestic, like being piled together on the couch watching Disney movies; that’s what was pushed to the forefront of your mind.

But, despite those instantaneous fantasies, this was a place for honesty, and the significance of your pause between his question and yours was an entity of its own, stiff like his posture.

“Are you ready for this conversation?” you checked. He fostered an anxious glance and nod. “Having kids is not something I ever saw for myself, no.”  The consequence of your answer marked his immediate dropped eye contact, but ever patient with him, you continued strongly, “With how I dated and moved around, I didn’t think it was for me, that sort of lifestyle. It’s just not something I put a lot of thought into except when my friends were having kids, and really, they kinda turned me off of the idea. Pregnancy sounds.. daunting. Or—you know—really fucking scary. They’d always talk about how awful it is, all the complications you could have, the risks, the near death experience in one case,” you broke off in a squirm. “And then you don’t even get the relief once the baby comes. Like, seriously, taking care of a newborn sounds straight up terrifying.”

Eddie cracked. His hiss of laughter was a welcomed reprieve, especially when it sank to his chest, gripping his shoulders in a hearty shake. “Y-Yeah,” he got out, face crinkled in all the ways you adored, “it is straight up terrifying.”

You giggled in the softest way, careful to not disturb Adrie’s shallow breaths, and careful to not swoon too head-over-heels over the image of him rocking a baby. “It seems easier when they’re older, though,” you said, broaching the real crux of the conversation with your chin dipped to the top of her head. “Like it’s not as bad when they can actually communicate why they’re crying, or tell you what’s bothering them.”

“Not necessarily easier, just different,” he clarified. “It’s less about making sure this little tiny thing that can choke on its own snot survives the night, and more about the emotionally draining problems like her telling you about her day at preschool, explaining a situation where a group of kids kept giving her tasks to do that sent her away, and she’s smiling so big when she’s telling you, thinking it was a game, but deep down you’re just waiting for the heartbreak years down the line when she realizes they gave her errands to run because they were excluding her, and the reason they were laughing every time she came back was because they took joy in being mean to her.”

Wilt tinted your faint, “Oh..”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He upped the pressure he used to pat and rub your knee. “S’part of life.”

Consumed by his side profile, you studied the scope of his impassive expression set on the premature lines edging his face. The urge to find the right thing to say amidst the convoluted churn of anger on his behalf, and sadness on Adrie’s, itched something fierce beneath your skin. Ultimately, no words of inspiration came.

Eddie took an anticipatory breath.

The radio garbled advertisements for the station’s sponsors.

“Still wouldn’t trade it for those first months when she was a newborn, though.” Pursing his mouth thin, he rolled his lips inward with a hardened brow, releasing and scrunching tension around his nose as he shook his head slowly, addressing the memories of those days with a shine of pain to his eyes, and a loud smack of his tongue. “The moment I found out Adrie’s mom was pregnant, I wanted to do the right thing—y’know?” He took his hand off your leg to demonstrate the narrow path he followed. “Kept my head down, stayed focused, didn’t bother anybody, got a real job, and kept my mouth shut. Lotta places didn’t wanna hire me, obviously, but I applied anywhere I could, and when I got the job, I’d go get another one on a different shift, and another one on a graveyard shift. Sold whatever I had—guitars, ‘nd shit—bought what I could with the money. I wanted to be a good man. Be a provider. Be worth something.” Scrubbing his shaky fingers over the stubble on his chin, he aimed to calm himself, but when bringing up the Hell he went through during those times, there was little to stop his pitch from wavering. “Still wasn’t good enough.”

A verdict aimed at him flippantly, yet the impact on his self-esteem was immeasurable.

Gathering himself, he licked the inside of his cheek, and explained, “In the beginning, when Adrie was born, I tried to make it on my own. Locked in this little motel room with a crying baby. Couldn’t go to work. Didn’t have anyone to call to watch her for me, y’know, didn’t.. didn’t have anyone to rely on after walking out on my uncle, and isolating myself from my friends. The people at the bullshit resource center said I wasn’t eligible for benefits because they were for single moms, not dads. And child support was taking too long to kick in. Not like it mattered when it couldn’t pay for a single canister of Similac. I didn’t have fucking anything. Or know anything.”

His shame was only beginning to unravel.

“There were these free classes at a clinic for expecting parents, but I..” He dropped his knuckles to his thigh and fed them along the coarse cotton, using the friction to burn away the guilt. “I-I didn’t go. I didn’t want to go alone. Be the only guy there, by myself. Have all these people w-who might know who I am fucking.. fucking staring at me.” With how he was looking down at his lap, rocking slightly with his movement, he stood no chance against the wall of tears damming at his lashes. “I didn’t want to go because of my sense of pride, and my baby suffered because of it.”

“Eddie, that’s not true—” you stepped in.

Three effective beats of his fist on his leg, and you were left to witness his face crumple from the utter contempt he had for himself.

“It is true,” his volume fluctuated in jumps. “She wouldn’t eat. She wouldn’t fucking eat and keep it down.” Droplets splashed his jeans in unyielding splats. Drip, drop, drip, drop.. They slipped and spread in splotches of salty remorse he couldn’t wipe away quick enough. “Nothing worked. Couldn’t get her to latch onto a bottle, and, and—I didn’t know, I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to microwave the formula, but she wouldn’t take it room temp, so if it was too hot she’d just scream at me until it wasn’t, and I–I just—I was having these breakdowns, I don’t know. I blacked out, and next thing I knew, I was at Harrington’s, and Nancy was taking care of her for me.” The emphasis alluded to much, though the fact their son was only a year older, and Nancy would still be producing milk said it all. 

Frantic breaths which wouldn’t catch were pulled past grimaced lips parted on the unrefined sob his confession emerged on. “I never wanted to be with Adrie’s mom, but proving what she said was right, th-that I was a fucking loser who didn’t know what he was doing, it-it-it.” In a desperate flourish, he pointed at his temple, It lives in here, and another tear clung to the tip of his nose, smeared by the back of his wrist.

Stunned useless by the suffocating urge to help him, you blanked. Sat still while your favorite mechanic reduced himself to the wrong opinion of others; the same person who showed his gentle nature by picking worms out of the garage after a heavy rain so they didn’t dry out. Remaining frozen while silent pain wracked your friend’s held breath, heaved and shuddered out as a cough into the same palm he used to catch your ankle when he challenged you to a race on the creepers, and he had to cheat to win before you beat him to the service door. Saying, “Baby, no,” to the man who snuck a smirk over his daughter’s head when he caught you doting over her as she sat on his hip, and the smell of Christmas potluck embedded itself into the memory of Eddie’s eyes hinting at a deeper glint than the tease on his grin.

“I am a fucking failure,” he seeped out his regret. “C-Couldn’t give her what she needed. I still can’t. Still can’t give her what she wants, ever. T-T-Tellin’ her I can’t get her something when she asks for it—and the disappointment. Just a piece of shit who disappoints her. Never good enough—” There was another high-pitched stutter, but it was muffled behind his trembling hands covering his face, and smothered by your intervention.

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” you shot out, hand and voice working together to untangle the trauma his knotted fingers attempted to hide. “Listen to me.” No please, but no lack of kindness, either. “You are not a disappointment. Not then, not now, not ever. Do you hear me? You’re not any of those things.” You tugged at the canvas jacket around his stiff arms tucked tight to his body, and rocked him away from his huddle against the door.

In the aftermath of your scramble to comfort him, Adrienne startled awake. Her soft hmm? became a grunty whine when the sensation of slipping backwards disoriented her. “Daddy?” One of her fists found your hoodie for balance, but her groggy curiosity dealt a heartbreaking blow.

She traced the wet trail on his cheek, encountered a tear in its path, and broke the droplet’s surface tension on her finger, wondering aloud, “Why’s Daddy crying?”

Thinking quickly, you used your muscles earned through unloading car parts from delivery trucks, and scooped her from your lap onto his, diverting the nuance of grown-up-problems by fumbling out, “Daddies cry sometimes, too. Have you told him you love him today? Can you tell him? It’ll make him feel better. Please, Miss Adrie?” Whether or not it was the perfect phrasing wasn’t important. What mattered was the unsuspecting gratitude laden at the base of his frown.

“I love you, Daddy,” Adrie said, latching her arms around his neck. “I love you.”

“You’re a good man,” you added, and rolled onto your hip, fitting your body to his side. You nosed through his long, frazzly curls, and spoke earnestly, but softly into his ear, “You’re a good man, Eddie. Look at how well you take care of her. Look at how well fed, clothed, and happy she is. You make her so happy.. You make me happy, too. You’re the best dad I’ve ever met. No one else compares.”

He dragged a sniffle from his last sob into an unintelligible mumble.

“I’m here.” Shh. “I’m here.” You included Adrie in your hug as you brought your hand up to the other side of his flustered hot face, blending your fingers through the hair stuck to the sweat and stubble on his jaw. “We’re here for you. We’ve got you. Nothing bad can happen when we’re here.” Sweet with conviction, “It’s okay, handsome, I’ve got you.”

Overwhelmed by the small I love you, Daddy, on one side, followed by You’re a good man, on the other, his inhale shivered, and he cuddled Adrie to him for a watery, “I love you, too.” Croaky and real, and mouth agape on an ugly cry he let you witness until his needy reach cupped the back of your head, and smushed you to his wet cheek, scratching the same sentiment into your nape, just like you were rubbing it into his scalp, exchanging the affection without words.

Us and Them funneled through the car, mellowing the heightened emotions with its dreamy saxophone opener.

“I’m so glad to have met you,” you prized in tender sweeps of whispers and thumbs. “I actually look forward to coming into work because of you, even when you hide my pen cup, and tickle me when I go to reach for it on top of the Coke machine. Which is unfair, by the way.”

“Yeah?” he asked for dear reassurance, and distraction.

Humming against the intimate corner of his jaw, you nudged the prickly scruff, and melted into his uncoordinated pets over your ear. “I see your sacrifices, and trust me, Eddie, you’re doing a great job at raising your daughter. Stuff like buying her toys, or cookies, or whatever doesn’t matter. The love you show her is better than any of that. She’s so lucky to have you.”

Another tear dropped to the tattered quilt. Another, another dropped. He squeezed his eyes shut and more fell. Hindered breaths let go in stuttered huffs shook his chest, swayed his damp hair. You circled your thumb over the rivers on his sensitive skin, and found a dry section of your sleeve to clean the price he paid for being a good father without the proper support he needed. Soothing him with fond shushes and feather touches. Forming a ball of comfort around him: cramped in the tiny car, a cast of solid fog on the windows for privacy, Adrie’s blanket draped about your jumbled legs, and her lanky arms wrapped around his neck where precious words were stoked from the embers of a fire which he built. “I wanna color with you to-mah-rrow,” she pronounced. “You can have the dinosaur book, because I want the kitty cats. Deal?” Deal, he nodded.

Your bottom lip introduced a blessing at his sideburn, “You deserve to see yourself how we see you.”

Recovering from the unbearable throb his stuffed sinuses drove to his headache, he tried—“Thank you, baby,”—though the letters were mashed together, and further pulped by the thickness in his throat. Loud, however, was his hug. Crushing you both to him with honed strength; flexed forearms demonstrating the power lying dormant in the track of muscle he snaked around your waist. Groans were earned from his expertise. Bones protested the gesture, begging to be released. It took several seconds of your heartbeat pumping visibly at the edge of your vision, but he let go. Afterall, there was no praise to be had by flattened lungs.

“That hurt,” Adrie complained.

“Ow,” you agreed.

“Sorry,” he said in non-apology.

At a change in tone, you fawned, “But that was a nice hug.”

Adrie rated it, “An 8 out of 10.”

Crowded together, the bond was unmatched. His arms were spread like a greedy dragon hoarding its wealth. Chest open, collecting his most remarkable treasures to the roaring furnace locked within the confines of his body, ready to share the warmth to those who could appreciate its value. Clasped in your hand was Adrie’s ankle, gaining squirmy kicks for each smile and giggle traded under Eddie’s chin. Dressed in his well-loved hoodie, the crook of his elbow fit to your figure, and the backs of his fingers strummed your bicep in a trained motion. None of it was perfect, no. The hoodie could smell less like cigarettes, his forearm stuffed behind you meant you couldn’t recline comfortably, and when he patted your hip, he awakened the dull throb of the bruising grip he left during earlier events.

Those weren’t bad things, though. They were as real as human flaws. Accepted as such, too.

“Are you feeling better?”

Sporting a grin favoring one cheek more than the other, Eddie’s eyes were framed by clumped together lashes after being stripped to his barest self and given the grace he needed. “Yeah,” he answered Adrie in fondness, “I’m feeling better now.” Not forever. He wasn’t cured. But with time, he guided his gaze to the velcro shoe you were wiggling back and forth onto her heel, and climbed his soft study up to the plump concentration on your bottom lip after you released it from between your teeth.

Perceiving his attention, you clocked him with a sneaky grin. “We’re a sardine family.” Brightening at the bewildered noise he made, you tapped Adrie’s knee, and imparted your wisdom as if he should know it too. “Yeah, you know, you, me, and Adrie. Jammed packed back here like a tin of sardines. All squished together.”

They blinked at you. You blinked back.

“And I thought I was supposed to be the one with bad jokes,” Eddie offered after some thought. You cut him a look. “But I like the image,” he amended.

“I like sardines,” Adrie chimed. She didn’t know what sardines were, but you appreciated her enthusiasm.

The conversation waned from there. Drowsiness from the old night seeped into your collective huddle, slouching you all towards one another. Heavy limbs went boneless. Tender brushes of thumbs came to an end. The sound of deep breaths were heard between the local ads for Indiana’s finest antique mall and an uptick in the rain smacking the paved street. Near the edge of sleep, you convinced yourself to get Adrie up and into her carseat. Eddie sat back and watched you go through the steps of buckling her in, listening to her plea for Fluff in her backpack, tucking the quilt around her just right, and hitting your head on the roof in pursuit of making her happy. Taking care of his kid. You collapsed beside him, far closer than would be proper for coworkers, and basked in his approval, noting the pride in his charged gaze. The emotional rollercoaster of the evening took its toll on his swollen face—nevertheless, romance novels could learn a thing or two from the way his stare rendered you weak.

“Should get you home before the storm gets worse,” he warned in an attractive thrum of sternness. He might call you lil’ lady next. Or remind you he promised your father he’d have you back on time.

Floating in the fizzy pool of your crush's attention, you nodded your dizzy head, and observed without need, “Yeah, should get home before it gets worse.”

He laughed. You swam in his laugh, in the instinctual desire based in his mood after watching someone nurture his young. A silly thing to rock you into a sultry sweat considering the outcome of your second date. Luckily, when you stepped out of the car, the frigid mist stole your focus, hosing you down and keeping you from reading too much into the odd chemical imbalance that must be happening in your brain.

The night was really fucking long.

Driving with the radio on low, Eddie drifted his ringed fingers over your forearm whenever they weren’t being used on the stick shift. A small gesture letting you know he was thinking about you when there wasn’t anything to talk about, not that it was needed. The calm was nice. The storm behaved en route to the Buckley’s, avoiding the occasional tree limb blocking a lane. He removed his touch from your person, and with a glance, you were assured it wasn’t the last.

“You didn’t have to walk me to my door,” you gasped, posing with your arms stuck out, useless against mother nature sagging your soaked clothes.

A puddle formed on the wood planks where he wrung his hair. “And make you do this run all by yourself? C’mon, sweet stuff. I’m a gentleman.”

Shivering on the covered porch, your shoes were partially to blame for the slipping incident(s) in the muddy driveway. The lack of the house lights on was another, slowing down your sprint into a crawl. A yellow cast from a lamp in the back room lit the hallway, but other than its soft glow, that was it. Clearly, no one expected you to come home.

“Is it okay if, uh,” you began, “Is it okay if we kiss in front of Adrie?” Oh, how your awkward pointing from yourself to the car came to a charming halt, fingers caught in the stiff fabric of his jacket, under his spell.

Plush pink lips warmed by vented heat promised your worries away.

“I think she’s asleep anyway.” His voice was playful, tugging syllables in the way his lopsided grin ought. “But,” he softened, “yeah, we can kiss in front of her.”

The permission washed over you. Weeks and months in the making. Brewing tension under the surface in your daily interactions—and now? You kissed him. Just for fun, just to show off. You kissed him again. Gentle, pretty brushes. Tame, refined, and for the sake of exploring the lack of boundary before saying goodbye.

Working man arms defined your waist.

Fingers calloused from gripping pens grazed his steady throat.

He swallowed, and spoke endearments with his busy mouth, “Could kiss you all day, baby.” Your lips kicked into a smile which he devoured, kiss after kiss. Neat little things. Virtues, maybe.

“Could’ve kissed me since the day we met,” you answered, feeling the squeeze around your back when his belly pressed you into his embrace. Though, his dismissive snort caused you to frown. “I’m serious. Coulda had me back then. Or at least you could’ve kissed me when we were slow dancing in the garage, or standing under the mistletoe at the Christmas party. Like, seriously, way to make me feel rejected.”

His wide passionate eyes shared common ground with his genuine smirk at your feigned agony. “Excuse you, but I am not having our first kiss be at work.”

“Then why not at DND when everyone left?”

“Because, sweetheart,“ his cadence loved those two words most of all, “I knew I only had a few minutes with you. And I needed a helluva lot more than a few minutes with you.”

“Or, what about when—”

Crazy how you strove to be silenced by his mouth. Craved it like no other, provoking him into eager unions, fulfilling the itch and providing the scratch with your bottom lip between his, just how he liked.

You shifted. Your inner thighs rubbed through your ripped tights. The untimely circumstances bringing you to Robin’s door lived on the surface of your chilly skin; ushering you to reality, and he as well.

“I’m sorry for how all this turned out.” Eddie’s sincere apology pitched his voice to something sorrowful, something deeper, and maybe you underestimated how much the night ending when it did upset him as a man.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

He shuffled his stance, scraping his boots in dissatisfaction. “Baby, you didn’t even get anything,” and you knew what he meant. And it annoyed you he’d even brought it up.

Combing your fingers up from his nape through his hair, you drove him into you, chasing the molten ooze pooling at your center in effort to shut him up. Wet, hard, nipping kisses at his plump lips until they were raw like his tear-stained cheeks. You forwent air. Mouths melding as one, then apart as two, then one, then a set of awake eyes boring into his drunk ones. “Our date was perfect. We needed this.” The trust, the experience, the uncomfortable glimpse into his life and how you handled it. His breakdown, his shame, his face when he finally let go and ugly cried in front of you. “I don’t regret how our night turned out.”

Nodding into a nudge of his nose stroking the side of yours, he was honest with himself, “I don’t regret it, either.”

“Well, you might regret it in the next half-hour if this storm keeps up, and you’re stranded with Adrie in the car because a tree fell across the road.”

“Shit.” Indeed, the weather was turning again. If luck were on his side, he could deal with the high winds and sheets of rain until he got home, but, more likely, he drained his luck over the course of the date, and lightning was about to start again.

Eyeing the sky with hesitance, he asked, “Can I call you tomorrow? Or—today?”

“I’d be upset if you didn’t.” Acting as an endorsement to get going before things worsened, thick forest branches creaked in the distance, popping like warnings. You followed it with snappier affections doled between your palms fitted to his jaw. “Please be safe, Eddie.”

“I will, I will. Kay?” Urgency swept him from kiss to kiss—needy, and intense, treating them as the last. “I adore you, baby. Tell me you adore me.”

Mushy under his tender affirmations, your body went pliant and he accepted your weighty lean on his chest, making it harder than it already was for him to leave his sweetheart behind. “—dore you too, handsome,” you moaned into his mouth, sending him off on a proper goodbye.

“Jesus Christ, woman.”

Ever the lovestruck fool, he stayed rooted on the porch watching your figure move from shadow to light within the home, eyes glued to sways and curves as you met the hallway and bent to peep inside Robin’s room. It was the single lamp being turned off which broke his greedy gaze, and ended his fun. Oh well. His Monday morning was booked with penciled in meetings for his admiration and your assets.

Eddie spun on his heel and stopped stalling. He didn’t bother throwing his arms over his head, he accepted his fate, and ran. Sloshing through puddles, slipping in mud. He wrenched open the door, and fell inside the car. The heater made him sticky warm in the gross way, so he turned it down, and got comfortable behind the wheel, adjusting, adjusting.

Pulling oxygen into his outkissed lungs, he heaved a solid breath, and sank into his seat, unable to comprehend the recent events carving out a new path for him to consider where there wasn’t one before.

——Then——

In the beginning…

Summer died to autumn, and it was time to move on from Steve's. Eddie tried to make it on his own in the motel room over the three day weekend break from work, but his wallet was empty, his baby was dressed in another family's blue sailboat onesie, and come Tuesday morning at 7AM, he needed someone to watch Adrie who wasn't an overworked Nancy Harrington.

Infant in hand, pride left behind in his boyhood, Eddie knocked on his uncle's door, and in Wayne's usual manner, he answered by clearing his throat when neither words nor greetings failed to repair the strained relationship.

“Can I live with you?”

Taking in the marks of fatigue under his nephew's averted eyes, Wayne said, “Of course, son,” and welcomed him inside with a swung gesture.

The walk to the single bedroom humbled what spirit Eddie had remaining. Or, crushed what was left of it. He passed by the kitchen table which still had his chair cocked out, noticed the patched-up hole in the closet door, and flicked on the lightswitch, grazing the curled edge of a poster he hung over a decade ago. His stomach sank at the familiarity.

Blazed by the ornate lamp hung in the corner, standing out like a behemoth beside his white desk, was the crib he was never able to afford.

Adrie grunted awake in her carseat. Looking down at her would spill his tears, so he cranked his head back to stare at the ceiling, steeling himself after spotting the new bedsheets stretched across his mattress, and he knew—he knew—if he turned around, the pullout bed in the living room would still be set up.

His uncle never took his room back.

Defeated by the routine pang of worthlessness, impressed to have any self-esteem left to be stolen from him at the point, Eddie sank to his childhood mattress with his three-month-old daughter at his feet, undressed himself from his boots, and made a clear spot for them both on the bed, away from blankets or pillows. He laid on his side, legs crossed and knees bent with an arm beneath his head. Same position he assumed on the motel’s carpeted floor yesterday when Adrie experienced a milestone: rolling over. Not from her back to her stomach, she wasn’t coordinated enough for that yet, but with enough powerful kicks and wiggling, his paranoia coaxed his other arm around her.

He molded himself to be her protector. Chest sunken on a shallow breath, forearm spooned to her side closest to the edge, and gaze trained on her chubby cheek. Her babbly noise of happiness brought him a sense of reward, and though the newborn smell had faded in the weeks where motor oil stung his nostrils, he put his nose to the top of her head for a whiff of a sweet scent that wasn’t there, and felt the peace it brought him anyway.

Wayne shuffled into the room with a sizable stack of chunky hardcover books between his hands. “I, uh, checked these out from the library. Been doin’ some readin’ while you were gone.” He set them down on the bedside table, and pointed at a few of them. “Learned a lot from the one on the bottom, but they were all, ah, educational, I s’pose.. Some lean more religious than others,” he grumbled. “But, uhm..”

The expectant pause in his uncle’s speech drew Eddie’s awareness.

“Can I hold her?” Wayne asked.

“Yeah.” He almost had the strength to clear the rasp from his throat. “You can hold her.”

Putting his new knowledge to good use, Wayne first worked his palm under Adrie’s head before scooping her into his folded arms. Eddie took his shame in small doses, glancing at his uncle meeting his grandchild for the first time, and looking away when he cooed over her. Three months and his only family member had yet to meet his baby. Three months spent avoiding this trailer, and depriving his uncle from making these memories.

Self-loathing boiled under Eddie’s skin, and still, there was a fleeting desire to brag about Adrie’s neck strength, and how it wasn’t so necessary to be wary of her head falling back.

But he stayed quiet. He pushed his overgrown bangs out of his eyes, and read the book’s titles, wondering what sparked enough interest for Wayne to stuff receipts between the pages, or mark them with paper clips if they were particularly interesting.

Speaking in his gruff smoker’s voice with an edge of seldom heard unease, Wayne introduced a conversation, “I read in that yellow book there that babies shouldn’t sleep in the same bed as the parent. Dangerous, with how tired you are, ‘nd all. Should I put her in the crib?”

As gingerly and delicately as one could be when discussing the reality of a child suffocating to a parent who was well aware of the risks, Eddie regarded him with an annoyed expression, and Wayne shut his mouth in apology.

“I’ve gotta do her night routine again, so I’ll be up for a bit.”

“Yep.” A solid statement, and conclusion, to the conversation.

Bending down, Wayne positioned Adrie in the hollow Eddie created for her, and mentioned there were leftovers in the fridge on his way out. He shut the door behind him. It didn’t take long for tiny fists and tinier fingers to find a lock of his hair, and pull it into a drooly mouth. Didn’t take long, either, for his exhaustion to kick in and for the emotions to crash through his walls.

Tears slipped sideways along his features. Cresting over the bridge of his nose, colliding with his other eye, and joining the wetness at his hairline, dotting the bedsheet. He pressed his face to his baby who was too innocent for this world. “Daddy loves you,” he whispered, tasting the word for the first time. Daddy. It didn’t feel right when Steve stepped in as a father figure, but he could acknowledge it now. He was a dad. A momentous occasion followed by, “I’m so sorry you’re mine.” An apology uttered on a wet hiccup—borderline unintelligible—but after coming back to this trailer, and enduring his memories trapped between its thin walls, he promised, words slurring to a constricted squeak in his throat, “Daddy’s gonna get us a nice house, okay? Your own room. Your own bed. Daddy’s gonna do it. Just give me some time, okay? I’ll do it, I swear. Daddy loves you so much. So fucking much.” The promises bred dread even then, living in the pit of his stomach as future disappointments, knowing he would fail.

Perhaps sensing his distress, his little girl used the last of her energy to kick his arm in a fair warning before her face scrunched, and the wet coughs preluding her wail for food began.

He dried his face on the bedsheet. In this moment, it was hard to continue crying when he had another human relying on him. It was time to move on. Time to bury the pain, and move on. Time to neglect himself, and move on. Time to give up, and move on. Kiss her chubby cheeks so fucking much he feared he’d never be able to stop, and move on.

——Now——

Now, he checked the rearview mirror and Adrie was looking back at him, possessing a curious pinch between her brows at his reflection.

“You were kissing Miss Mouse,” she accused and questioned.

“I was,” he confirmed.

“What does that mean?”

“It means, ah,” he filled the pause with another ah while he searched, “It means we’ll be seeing more of each other. She’ll be coming around more, and stuff. Hanging out with us.”

Ever ponderous, ever candid, ever blunt, she asked, “Does that mean she’s my–”

Crazy Little Thing Called Love blasted their eardrums.

Eddie’s fingers slipped over the volume dial by accident—totally by accident—as he reached for the stick shift, turning the music on high and drowning out the last word of her sentence.

—Mom.

No way in hell was he ready for that conversation after the emotionally grueling night he’d had.

“Whoops,” he pretended, “Sorry, couldn’t hear you—but, uh! Hey, do you wanna start our bedtime story early? Should I go with the princess one, or the Sesame Street gang running their own bakery? Hmm.." He drew out his hum until he was in the clear of the Buckley's mailbox, swearing he wasn't the reason it was laying flat in a ditch. "How about we pick up where the princess one left off? So! The firbolgs have declared alliances with Toadstool Kingdom, and.." Throwing it into first gear, Eddie raced home as quickly, but responsibly, as possible, talking non-stop. His parched throat begged for a drink by the time he pulled into the trailer park—a scratchy pain made worse by his nervous chatter in the elusive quiet of his parked car.

He wrapped Adrie in her quilt as best he could while securing her on his hip and booked it through the rain, unlocking the front door and ducking inside right as an unlucky flash of lightning came.

And when nature’s nightlight died, he blinked and blinked at the spots in his vision.

It was unfathomably dark in his living room.

Stumbling over a small shoe in his way, he patted the wall for the lightswitch, and flipped it. And flipped it again. And harassed it some more. Sighing heavily in defeat, he grabbed the giant flashlight on the kitchen counter, and lit the way. "Looks like we're camping tonight." (Their codeword for when the power was knocked out.)

"Okie dokie," she said, ignorant to the cruel world of no pancakes for Sunday breakfast when the electric stovetop was out of commission.

In the meantime, he got them both ready for bed with the added pain of doing it by a single wobbly light source, ready to pass out the second his body sank to the mattress and his head hit the flat pillow—

But of course, Adrie rocked his shoulder incessantly, goading him into giving her attention at her whim, sanity be damned. "Mm?" he grunted, coating the noise in mild annoyance.

"Daddy?" she checked.

The wait for her question grew excruciatingly long.

He almost wasted an eye roll. "Yes, my child?"

"I wish Miss Mouse was here."

Surprised more so by his yawn than the request itself—and then surprised again when his heartbeat remained calm when confronted with the reality of Adrie noticing too much—he struggled to stay awake in his best interest, perhaps giving an inappropriate answer, and unwittingly feeding into her inner wishes, "I do too." He was fading, and quick. The hard rain had returned, droning white noise on the roof, soothing his eyelids closed over the dry sting they drew. Rolling, fighting the stiff sheets tucked around them both, he threw an arm over her before the doom-roll of thunder came. Sweet dreams greeted him in a pair of tiny arms folded to his chest. Brain shutting down. Night, night. Asleep.

"I wish she was my mom."

"Goodnight, Adrie," he stressed.

[zelda-heritage-posts]

Remakes and re-releases count!

Official mainline list:

The Legend of Zelda - August 22, 1987 - NES

Zelda 2: The Adventure of Link - December 1, 1988 - NES

The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past - April 13, 1992 - SNES

The Legend of Zelda: Link's Awakening - August 6, 1993 - Game Boy

The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time - November 21, 1998 - N64

The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask - October 26, 2000 - N64

The Legend of Zelda: Oracle of Seasons and Oracle of Ages - May 13, 2001 - Game Boy Color

The Legend of Zelda: Four Swords - December 2, 2002 - Game Boy Advance

The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker - March 24, 2003 - GameCube

The Legend of Zelda: Four Swords Adventures - June 7, 2004 - GameCube

The Legend of Zelda: The Minish Cap - January 10, 2005 - Game Boy Advance

The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess - November 19, 2006 (Wii) / December 11, 2006 (GameCube)

The Legend of Zelda: Phantom Hourglass - October 1, 2007 - Nintendo DS

The Legend of Zelda: Spirit Tracks - December 7, 2009 - Nintendo DS

The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword - November 20, 2011 - Wii

The Legend of Zelda: A Link Between Worlds - November 22, 2013 - Nintendo 3DS

The Legend of Zelda: Tri Force Heroes - October 23, 2015 - Nintendo 3DS

The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild - March 3, 2017 - Nintendo Switch

The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom - May 12, 2023 - Nintendo Switch

[nightmareinfloral]

Jericho- Where to Read?

Joseph William Wilson (Jericho) is the youngest son of Slade Wilson (Deathstroke) and Adeline Kane. Beneath the cut is a complete list of Joey’s major appearances updated as of January 2024. Most important issues are in bold.

The 1980s:

Tales of the Teen Titans (1984) 42-44, Annual 3, 45-48, 50-52, 56-57, 58

The New Teen Titans (1984) 1-2, 3-5

Crisis on infinite Earths (1985) 3-5, 9, 11

Who’s Who: The Definitive Directory of the DC Universe (1985) 11

The New Teen Titans (1984) 6-10, Annual 1, 11-13, 14-15

The Omega Men (1983) 34-35

The New Teen Titans (1984) 16-17, 18, 22, 24-31

Action Comics (1938) 584

Teen Titans Spotlight (1986) 3-6

Secret Origins (1986) 13

History of the DC Universe (1986) 2

The New Teen Titans (1984) 33-34

Blue Beetle (1986) 11-14

The New Teen Titans (1984) 35-37, Annual 3, 39-49, Annual 4

The New Titans (1988) 50-55

Secret Origins (1986) Annual 3

The New Titans (1988) Annual 5, 57-59

Batman (1940) 440

The New Titans (1988) 60-61

Secret Origins (1986) 46

The New Titans (1988) 62-63

The 1990s:

The New Titans (1988) 64-67

Hawk & Dove (1989) 11-12

The New Titans (1988) 68-69

Who’s Who in the DC Universe (1990) 1

The New Titans (1988) Annual 6

Wonder Woman (1987) 47, 49

The New Titans (1988) 71, 75-79, Annual 7, 80-85. 86

Deathstroke the Terminator (1991) 1-7, 9, 11, Annual 1

Showcase ‘93 (1993) 2

Batman Shadow of the Bat (1992) 34

Deathstroke (1991) 48

JLA/Titans (1998) 1

Nightwing Secret Files and Origins (1999) 1

The Titans (1999) 10

The 2000s:

The Titans (1999) 25, 46

Teen Titans (2003) 2

Batman Gotham Knights (2000) 44

Teen Titans (2003) 3-5, 7-8

Avengers/JLA (2003) 4

Teen Titans (2003) 9, 11-12, 21

Nightwing (1995) 106

DC Special The Return of Donna Troy (2005) 1

Teen Titans/Outsiders Secret Files and Origins (2005) 1

Teen Titans (2003) 33, 39-47, 52

Countdown to Final Crisis (2007) 36

DC Universe: Last Will and Testament (2008) 1

DC Universe Decisions (2008) 3-4

Titans (2008) 6-12

Teen Titans (2003) Annual 1, 69

Vigilante (2008) 5

Teen Titans (2003) 70

Titans (2008) 13

Vigilante (2008) 6

Teen Titans (2003) 77-78

The 2010s:

DC Universe Legacies (2010) 5

Titans (2008) 37-38, Annual 1

Deathstroke (2011) 0, 13, 19-20

New Teen Titans: Games (2011)

Deathstroke (2014) 2-6, 17-20

Convergence New Teen Titans (2015) 1-2

Deathstroke: Rebirth (2016) 1

Deathstroke (2016) 1-3, 6-10, 12-16, 18

Teen Titans (2016) 8

Deathstroke (2016) 19

Teen Titans The Lazarus Contract Special (2017) 1

Deathstroke (2016) 20-25

DC Holiday Special (2017) 1

Deathstroke (2016) 26-27, Annual 1, 28 -32, 34-50

The 2020s:

Dark Knights: Death Metal: The Last Stories of the DC Universe (2020) 1

Batman Black and White (2020) 5

Deathstroke Inc. (2021) 1, 5, 7

Future State Gotham (2021) 12

Tales of the Titans (2023) 2

Thank you to @jerichogender for helping me compile!

[purplemortuary]

Buck-Tick in analogue Part I | 80s - 90s

A collection I've been making for a long time of organized BUCK-TICK polaroids and other analog photos with dates. Side projects may also be included.

Tried to track as much as I could find.

↑ 3 August - 1986

↑ 21 December - 1986 (Hidehiko Hoshino and the Buck-Tick van)

↑ 19 October - 1987 (Sakurai at age 21)

↑ 1988 (Sakurai at age 22)

↑ 2 June - 1988 (Imai and Hoshino)

↑ 20 January - 1989 (Sakurai one on the side)

↑ 28 September - 1991

↑ 3 October - 1993 (Imai and Sakurai)

↑ 17 February - 1994 (Sakurai at age 27)

↑ May 1994 (From Ongaku to Hito. Interview with Issay)

↑ 29 March - 1995 (Sakurai at age 29)

↑ 25 July - 1995

↑ 1996 (Sakurai and Imai. I'm unsure of the date but based on other pictures I found I gave it 96')

↑ July 1996 (From Ongaku to Hito)

↑ 27 September - 1997 (Sakurai)

↑ 1997 or 1998 (Imai and Sakurai, unsure about the date)

[jeanmoreaue]

Are Jean and Neil the same age?

yep which is wild!! they’re both 19 turning 20 in the next year. i think Jean’s technically about 3-4 months older if you consider Nathaniel Wesisinski’s actual birthday (January 19th, 1988) not Neil Josten’s birthday (March 31st, 1987 - since that makes him a year older lol) and the foxhole court takes place in 2006-2007 year

Jean is 19 in tsc and nora said that Jean is a scorpio on twitter so that means his birthday is somewhere in October/November (my stab in the dark is October 29th, 1987, right before halloween seems to fit the vibe) meaning that jean will probably turn 20 in the next book

[spnscripthunt-inactive]

Movie Scripts

Alien Script – First draft by Dan O’Bannon.

Alien Script – Third draft by Walter Hill and David Giler.

Alien Script – Final draft, June 1978.

Alien Script – Revised final draft by Walter Hill and David Giler, notations by Terry Rawlings, dated June 1978.

Alien Script – Revised final draft, October 4th 1978.

Alien 2 Treatment – Aliens treatment by David Giler, Walter Hill & James Cameron, dated September 21st 1983.

Aliens Script – First draft by James Cameron, dated February 26th 1985.

Aliens Script – Another “first draft” by James Cameron, dated May 28th 1985.

Aliens Script – Final draft, dated September 23rd 1985.

Alien 3 Script – Draft by William Gibson, first draft, 1987.

Alien 3 Script – Second draft by William Gibson, January 1988.

Alien 3 Script – Draft by Eric Red, dated February 7th 1989.

Alien 3 Script – Draft by David Twohy (October 1989)

Alien 3 Script – Draft by John Fasano, dated March 29th 1990.

Alien 3 Script – Draft by Walter Hill & David Giler, dated October 10 1990.

Alien 3 Script – Draft by Walter Hill & David Giler, dated December 18th 1990.

Alien 3 Script – Draft by Rex Pickett (rewrite of Walter Hill & David Giler draft December 18th 1990), dated January 5th 1991.

Alien 3 Script – Draft by Walter Hill & David Giler, dated January 11th 1991.

Alien Resurrection Script – First draft, dated 14th September 1995.

Alien Resurrection Script – Second draft, dated July 22nd 1996.

Alien Resurrection Script – Unknown draft.

Alien Resurrection Storyboard Script – French text, dated October 7th 1996.

Alien: Engineers Script – Pre-Prometheus script (possibly the 4th draft or a revision of it) written by Jon Spaihts.

Alien 01: Genesis Script – Pre-Prometheus script (5th draft or a revision of it but not the final) written by Jon Spaihts. Dated 9th July 2010.

Prometheus Script – Final draft by Damon Lindelof

Paradise (Prologue) Script – Opening scenes of an early Alien: Covenant draft by John Logan. This would eventually form the basis for The Crossing viral. Dated August 6, 2015.

Paradise Lost Script – Early Alien: Covenant draft by John Logan. Dated August 19, 2015.

Alien: Covenant Script – Early draft by John Logan. Dated November 20, 2015.

[bibururokku]

An Unofficial Comprehensive Age List of Blue Lock Characters from Oldest to Youngest

I made this because of this post I made here as a means to keep me sane, but feel free to reblog to keep it as a reference and stuff!

Oldest

Youngest

1. Buratsuta Hirotoshi — November 7th, 1957 (62) 2. Isagi Issei — May 1st, 1972 (46) 3. Isagi Iyo — January 4th, ???? (43)** 4. Bachira Yu — August 16th, 1981 (37) 5. Noel Noa — April 2nd, ???? (31)** 6. Jinpachi Ego — March 31st, ???? (30)** 7. Dada Silva — October 23rd, ???? (28)** 8. Leonardo Luna — October 31st, ???? (27)** 9. Adam Blake — September 30th, 1992 (26) 10. Pablo Cavasoz — March 7th, ???? (23)** 11. Teieri Anri — August 17th, 1996 (22) 12. Aiku Oliver — June 30th, 1999 (19) 13. Don Lorenzo — July 4th, 1999 (19) 14. Michael Kaiser — December 25th, 1999 (19)* 15. Yukimiya Kenyu — April 28th, 2000 (18) 16. Okawa Hibiki — June 12th, 2000 (18) 17. Baro Shoei — June 27th, 2000 (18) 18. Shido Ryusei — July 7th, 2000 (18) 19. Imamura Yudai — July 15th, 2000 (18) 20. Karasu Tabito — August 15th, 2000 (18) 21. Wanima Junichi — August 20th, 2000 (18) 22. Wanima Keisuke — August 20th, 2000 (18) 23. Sendo Shuto — October 7th, 2000 (18) 24. Itoshi Sae — October 10th, 2000 (18)* 25. Aryu Jyubei — November 3rd, 2000 (18)* 26. Kuon Wataru — November 16th, 2000 (18)* 27. Iemon Okuhito — November 19th, 2000 (18)* 28. Otoya Eita — December 3rd, 2000 (18)* 29. Ishikari Yukio — December 10th, 2000 (18)* 30. Gagamaru Gin — January 2nd, 2001 (18)* 31. Tokimitsu Aoshi — March 21st, 2001 (18)* 32. Nagi Seishiro — May 6th, 2001 (17) 33. Kira Ryosuke — May 23rd, 2001 (17) 34. Julian Loki — June 9th, 2001 (17) 36. Igarashi Gurimu — July 6th, 2001 (17) 37. Bachira Meguru — August 8th, 2001 (17) 38. Mikage Reo — August 12th, 2001 (17) 39. Kiyora Jin — August 31st, 2001 (17) 40. Raichi Jingo — October 11th, 2001 (17)* 41. Tsurugi Zantetsu — October 30th, 2001 (17)* 42. Hiori Yo — November 30th, 2001 (17)* 43. Chigiri Hyoma — December 23rd, 2001 (17)* 44. Kunigami Rensuke — March 11th, 2002 (17)* 46. Isagi Yoichi — April 1st, 2002 (17)* 47. Kurona Ranze — September 6th, 2002 (16) 48. Itoshi Rin — September 9th, 2002 (16) 49. Nanase Nijiro — January 1st, 2003 (16)* 50. Niko Ikki — February 5th, 2003 (16)* 51. Naruhaya Asahi — March 20th, 2003 (16)*

* As Sae has turned 18 after the Second Selection and Isagi has turned 17 sometime during or a bit before the PxG match, it can be assumed that every character with a birthday between was a year younger and has aged up to the ages currently shown on the list sometime in the series.

So basically: Michael Kaiser — December 25th, 1999 (18 → 19) Itoshi Sae — October 10th, 2000 (17 → 18) Aryu Jyubei — November 3rd, 2000 (17 → 18) Kuon Wataru — November 16th, 2000 (17 → 18) Iemon Okuhito — November 19th, 2000 (17 → 18) Otoya Eita — December 3rd, 2000 (17 → 18) Ishikari Yukio — December 10th, 2000 (17 → 18) Gagamaru Gin — January 2nd, 2001 (17 → 18) Tokimitsu Aoshi — March 21st, 2001 (17 → 18) Raichi Jingo — October 11th, 2001 (16 → 17) Tsurugi Zantetsu — October 30th, 2001 (16 → 17) Hiori Yo — November 30th, 2001 (16 → 17) Chigiri Hyoma — December 23rd, 2001 (16 → 17) Kunigami Rensuke — March 11th, 2002 (16 → 17) Isagi Yoichi — April 1st, 2002 (16 → 17) Nanase Nijiro — January 1st, 2003 (15 → 16) Niko Ikki — February 5th, 2003 (15 → 16) Naruhaya Asahi — March 20th, 2003 (15 → 16)

** The birth year and age of these characters are unknown because it is unclear whether these characters have aged into their listed ages or were these ages when introduced, so there is a chance that these ages are now off by one year. Thus, they may be either a year younger and have just turned that age or are all currently a year older because their birthdays have passed now.

In other words: Isagi Iyo — January 4th, 1975 OR 1976 (43 → 44 || 42 → 43) Noel Noa — April 2nd, 1987 OR 1988 (31 → 32 || 30 → 31) Jinpachi Ego — March 31st, 1988 OR 1989 (30 → 31 || 29 → 30) Dada Silva — October 23rd, 1989 OR 1990 (28 → 29 || 27 → 28) Leonardo Luna — October 31st, 1990 OR 1991 (27 → 28 || 26 → 27) Pablo Cavasoz — March 7th, 1995 OR 1996 (23 → 24 || 22 → 23)

Other things to keep in mind:

Blue Lock is supposed to be set in mid/late 2018, and the current events we see take place in 2019. Given that the series has an official setting and official ages with confirmed passage of time with people aging as their birthdays pass, characters should be born during the years listed above.

However, the birth years of certain adults (see above) can be iffy simply because there is a lack of information about them and the exact timeline of events occurring in the series. (E.g. it is known that Isagi turned 17 sometime around the PxG match, but it is unclear whether or not Noel Noa's birthday has also passed despite his birthday being the day after Isagi's.)

What is certain are the birth years of the U-20 players and the Blue Lock participants because U-20 players cannot be older than the maximum age of 20 in the year of the competition to qualify, so their oldest has to be born sometime in '99 to be able to play. As for the Blue Lock participants, the original 300 players were selected from a pool of high schoolers, so they have to be between 15-18, as Japan only has three years of high school, with each grade having a specific age range due to how the school year is arranged to start in April and end in March, as such, 1st years are always 15-16 years old, 2nd years are always 16-17 years old and 3rd years are always 17-18 years old, so everyone had to be born between '00-'03.

Extra things that came to mind as I wrote this:

— As it is currently April in Blue Lock, the 3rd year boys are technically graduated from high school, and the 1st and 2nd years should be the 2nd and 3rd years now. — Depending on how far into April it is, Yukimiya could be or turn 19. — The boys would be around 20-25 years old irl rn.

[cinnamonrollsledge]

HISPANIC HERITAGE MONTH + BAND OF BROTHERS:

JOSEPH "JOE" RAMIREZ

Born October 5th, 1921, in Nebraska

Died April 8th, 1988 (age 66), in Martinez, California

Joe Ramirez enlisted in September 1942 (age 20) in San Francisco, CA, and he trained with Easy Company at Toccoa. Holding the rank of Private, he served in Normandy, Holland, and Bastogne. He was hospitalized in January 1945, and discharged in July 1945. After the war, he was married for many years, and had children and grandchildren. When he passed away he was buried with his wife, who had passed away 11 years earlier. Further information about him is scarce, but the brief character profile in the Band of Brothers series bible describes him as Mexican-American, and his personality as "sensitive and nervous."

Appears in Episodes 1, 3-6, 8, and 10; portrayed by actor Rene L. Moreno

Sources below

A million thanks to @bleedingcoffee42 for tracking down this info for me!

[all-action-all-picture]

Benny Hill (21 January 1924- 20 April 1992) and Audrey Hepburn (4 May 1929- 20 January 1993), circa 1988.

Hopefully there is some speeded up footage of them chasing each other around with Yakety Sax playing in the background.

[lynpheas]

winx club - age order

okay i just spent an egregious amount of time trying to figure out the age order for the winx + the specialists (+ the trix). so alfea (and i'm assuming cloud tower) are three-year academic institutions. since stella is already established to know the specialists (sky, riven, and brandon specifically), we can assume she met them in their collective first years. & since the specialists seem to graduate at the same time as the winx, that means that red fountain likely has a four year run.

since bloom is canonically 16 at the beginning of the show and stella is a year older than her at 17, that makes sky, riven, and brandon all 17 as well. the rest of the winx (flora, musa, tecna, aisha) would also be 16 (since aisha is 17 at her first appearance in s2). we can also assume timmy is 17 since he's already part of the specialist squad and has likely completed at least one year at red fountain.

now, helia is likely a year older than the specialists + stella because he spends some time dropped out of red fountain but then seamlessly joins the specialist squad in s2 -- which would be the specialists' third year at rf. so, in my mind, after completing two years at rf, helia dropped out and then returned after a year. so it should be his fourth year, but instead he's a third year. this would make helia 18 if he appeared in s1.

when nabu is introduced in s3, we aren't given any information about his schooling or anything that would indicate his age, so i'll just assume he's the same age as the og squad of specialists, which would make him 17 at the beginning of the show.

to reiterate, at the beginning of the show, we have: [stella, sky, riven, brandon, timmy, nabu - 17], [bloom, musa, tecna, flora, aisha - 16], and [helia - 18].

now, just to make it more complicated for myself, i'm going to factor in the canon birthdays. assuming everyone who is the same age is born in the same year (and for easier visualization, i'm going to say their birth years are [2004 - s1 age]), here is the age order:

helia - september 2nd, 1986 nabu - january 30, 1987 timmy - february 15, 1987 sky - march 20, 1987 stella - august 18, 1987 brandon - september 23, 1987 riven - october 15, 1987 musa - may 30, 1988 flora - march 1, 1988 aisha - june 15, 1988 bloom - december 10, 1988 tecna - december 16, 1988

this means that in the year that they all graduate from alfea & rf in s3, the ages would be something like: [stella, sky, riven, brandon, timmy, nabu - 19], [bloom, musa, tecna, flora, aisha - 18], and [helia - 20].

and i forgot if this is only in the 4kids dub or canonically mentioned anywhere else, but the trix are apparently 'seniors' (third years at cloud tower) in the winx's first year. and since they all share a birthday (may 5), this would make the trix 18 in s1 and 20 in s3. (in my rewatch of the cinélume dub, i noticed darcy calls icy "little sister," so maybe darcy is older by a couple hours than icy and stormy just seems like she'd be the youngest.)

i like to play around with school-year cut-offs and i don't think each of the characters that share the same age/grade are born in the same year, so my hcs for age order differ from this list. but yeah :) this is what i could work out based on canon information.

[darkpeacemusic]

ℂ𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕡𝕪𝕡𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕒 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤: 𝔹𝕚𝕣𝕥𝕙𝕕𝕒𝕪𝕤 (+𝔸𝕘𝕖𝕤)

Jeff the Killer - June 2nd, 2000 (Age: 24)

Homicidal Liu - December 21st, 1991 (Age: 33)

Sully - December 21st, 1991 (Age: 33, though he's seven minutes younger than his twin, Liu)

Randy - July 25th, 1990 (Age: 34)

Keith - September 23rd, 1991 (Age: 33)

Troy - July 27th, 1991 (Age: 33)

Jane - September 1st, 1993 (Age: 31)

Mary - May 10th, 1992 (Age: 30)

Ben Drowned - April 23rd, 1990, died April 23rd 2002 (Age: Permanently 12, 34 if he were still alive today)

Ticci Toby - April 28th, 1994 (Age: 30)

Masky/Tim - June 19th, 1988 (Age: 36)

Hoodie/Brian - April 18th, 1989 (Age: 35)

Kate the Chaser - June 25th, 1995 (Age: 29)

Laughing Jack - Unknown but he was created on Christmas Eve, 1800s (Age: 200+)

Eyeless Jack - November 13th, 1994, died May 20th, 2011 (Age: 17 physically, actually in his 30s)

Slenderman and his brothers - Honestly no one ones. Some say they've been around since the 1600-1700s (Ages: 1000+)

Sally - April 5th, 1958, died April 5th, 1966 (Age: Permanently 8, 66 if she were alive today)

Dr Smiley - October 20th, 1984 (Age: 40)

Nurse Ann - October 31st, 1983 (Age: 41)

Nina - February 2nd, 1997 (Age: 27)

Candy Pop - Unknown but is said to have been created sometime in the 1400s (Age: 500-600+)

Jason the Toymaker - November 15th, 1940, died August 2nd, 1959 (Age: 19 by the time of his death, 84 if he were alive today)

The Puppeteer - July 25th, 1974, died November 30th, 1994 (Age: Permanently 20, 50 if he were still alive today)

Clockwork - November 6th, 1996 (Age: 28)

Rouge - January 7th, 1990 (Age: 34)

Wilson - August 27th, 1988 (Age: 36)

Zalgo - Unknown. He's been around since the beginning of time. (Age: Millions of years old)

Nathan - October 29th, 1990 (Age: 34)

Bloody Painter - October 1st, 1992 (Age: 32)

Kagekao - December 29th, 1994 (Age: 30)

Laughing Jill - Unknown, possibly around the same time as Jack (Age: 200+)

Sadie - October 21st, 1996, died March 12th, 2014 (Age: Permanently 18, 28 if she were alive today)

Hobo Heart - August 31st, 1900s (Age: 100+)

Cat Hunter - January 16th, 1990 (Age: 34)

Chris the Revenant - December 28th, 1999 (Age: 25)

X-Virus - December 12th, 1996 (Age: 28)

Dollmaker - June 13th, 2001 (Age: 23)

Frankie the Undead - September 13th, 1924, died sometime in 1974 (Age: Permanently 50, 100 if he were still alive today)

Judge Angels - April 2nd, 1998 (Age: 26)

Lifeless Lucy - April 5th, 1987, died April 5th, 1997 (Age: Permanently 10, 37 if she were alive today)

Lost Silver - June 21st, 1992, died sometime in August 2004 (Age: Permanently 12, 32 if he were still alive)

Glitchy Red - Unknown, is said to have been created sometime in 1990-1994 during the early stages of Pokemon Red/Blue (Age: Likely somewhere in his his late 20s-early 30s)

Dr. Locklear - March 7th, 1634, died sometime in 1665 during the Great Plague (Age: 30 by the time of his death, 390 if he were still alive today)

Lulu - February 15th, 1999, died sometime in 2013 (Age: Permanently 14, 25 if she were still alive)

Killing Kate - October 29th, 1996 (Age: 28)

[randgugotur-6]

May 18th 1987 - KISS released the film Kiss Exposed documentary film

KISS Exposed is the 1987 long-form music video released by the American rock band, Kiss. This was the band's second home video release. KISS Exposed is based on an interview with the members of Kiss (almost exclusively Gene Simmons and Paul Stanley) and is interspersed with music videos and live concert clips from throughout Kiss' career, until the album Asylum.

The original idea had been to put together a simple compilation of the promo videos the band had filmed since 1982 but according to interviews with Paul he felt that such a product wasn't right: "The new video, KISS Exposed, came out of the record company wanting to put out a compilation of our videos. And I always see that stuff as a rip-off. In essence, what they are doing is having the public pay the company back for the cost of the videos." Instead, KISS suggested a look behind the scenes/history of the band. According to Len Epand, the executive producer for the video and the senior vice president of music video production at PolyGram, "Gene Simmons and Paul Stanley were responsible for much of the idea and its execution and even came up with the title. […] When we brought the concept to Kiss, they upped the ante by giving us the rights to classic pre-video-age concert cuts from their own archives, from when they still wore make-up". The conceptual footage that tied the promo videos and live clips together was filmed at Gray Hall, a mansion in Beverly Hills, in August 1986.

The première showing of the completed product was at Billboard’s Eighth Annual Video Music Conference on November 20–22, 1986. It was described as "an original music/comedy/docu-drama".lFinal post-production work was undertaken in December 1986 at Sync Sound in New York for a January 1987 release. "Kiss have[has] now finished work on a 90-minute video package which they plan to issue worldwide in January ’87". However, this release date was soon pushed to March, something Gene and Paul referenced when they were guest VJs at MTV in January 1987. This March release date explains why KISS Exposed was listed as a new release in several US newspapers in mid-to-late March.

However, PolyGram pushed the release even further and it was eventually released on May 18. 1987. Whether or not it was the reason for the delays, Billboard wrote that PolyGram was "timing the videocassette […] to coincide with the compact disk release of the remainder of the Kiss catalog". Regardless of the reason for the moving release date it worked to drum up interest. According to an ad placed in Billboard in mid-April the video was set to ship gold (25,000 units) but the veracity of that early ad might be questioned. In an interview slightly closer to the actual release date representatives for PolyGram said that pre-orders were "approaching 25,000". (RIAA certification thresholds for long-form video have changed since the late 80s, in 1987 gold was 25,000 units and platinum was 50,000 units.] It was certified for gold status on July 23, 1987, and later platinum on October 1, 1987. Certifications always lag (and have to be asked for by the releasing label) and sales over 50,000 were reported long before the actual certification. In late 1988 Len Epand would claim sales approaching 90,000.

A follow-up was planned and almost 5 hours of footage was filmed during the first week of Hot in the Shade Tour, but it was shelved for unknown reasons. The footage leaked to the bootleg circuit and is called "eXposed II".

[harrisonarchive]

The Mercedes Benz Pullman, previously owned first by John, then by George, and subsequently by Mary Wilson. Photo 1 by Steve Wood/Popperfoto via Getty Images; photo 2 (at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame ceremony, January 20, 1988) by Ebet Roberts/Getty Images..

“Actually the car [a Mercedes Benz Pullman] belonged to George Harrison. My husband and I bought it from George Harrison. So the first owner was John [Lennon], then George, then myself.” - Jet, 13 June 1988

“[Friar Park] was one of the most beautiful places I’d ever seen. George’s grounds were like a huge park. I recall one especially beautiful swan-filled lake. The house resembled a small palace, decorated with previous objects from all over the world. Except for George’s extensive guitar collection, everything reminded me of a scene out of a fairy tale. […] While Olivia prepared dinner, he asked me countless questions about Motown and how we made our records, how we got that sound. It was a very relaxing day. What struck me about George was how happy he seemed. It made me realize how few people I knew, especially performers, who were content and at peace. After this I became a great fan of George’s music, especially its spiritual aspect.” - Mary Wilson, Dreamgirl and Supreme Faith: My Life as a Supreme (updated edition, 1999)

In her book, Mary also captioned a photo of herself with George at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony on January 20, 1988 with “my buddy George.” (x)

[thisisyourdriverspeaking]

Another day calls for another edition of US motorsport number twos posts. Featuring some absolute classic tunes 👌. Enjoy 😊😊

Sebastien Loeb (26th February 1974) - Terry Jacks - Seasons In The Sun

Tony Kanaan (31st December 1974) - Elton John - Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds

Juan Pablo Montoya (20th September 1975) - Glen Campbell - Rhinestone Cowboy

Mark Webber (27th August 1976) - Bee Gees - You Should Be Dancing

Kimi Raikkonen (17th October 1979) - Herb Alpert - Rise

Jenson Button (19th January 1980) - Captain & Tennille - Do That To Me One More Time

Felipe Massa (25th April 1981) - Sheena Easton - Morning Train (Nine To Five)

Heikki Kovalainen (19th October 1981) - Diana Ross & Lionel Richie - Endless Love

Andre Lotterer (19th November 1981) - The Rolling Stones - Start Me Up

Pippa Mann (11th August 1983) - Eurythmics - Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This)

Simon Pagenaud (18th May 1984) - Phil Collins - Against All Odds (Take A Look At Me Now)

Robert Kubica (7th December 1984) - Daryl Hall & John Oates - Out Of Touch

Nico Rosberg (27th June 1985) - Phil Collins - Sussudio

Jerome D'Ambrosio (27th December 1985) - Mr Mister - Broken Wings

Rahel Frey (23rd February 1986) - Mr Mister - Kyrie

Kamui Kobayashi (13th September 1986) - Lionel Richie - Dancing On The Ceiling

Rene Rast (26th October 1986) - Tina Turner - Typical Male

James Hinchcliffe (5th December 1986) - The Human League - Human

Oliver Turvey (1st April 1987) - Starship - Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now

Sebastian Vettel (3rd July 1987) - Lisa Lisa & Cult Jam - Head To Toe

Alexander Sims (15th March 1988) - George Michael - Father Figure

Molly Taylor (6th May 1988) - Terrence Trent D'Arby - Wishing Well

Simona De Silvestro (1st September 1988) - Elton John - I Don't Wanna Go On With You Like That

Sarah Bovy (15th May 1989) - Madonna - Like A Prayer

James Calado (13th June 1989) - New Kids On The Block - I'll Be Loving You (Forever)

Brendon Hartley (10th November 1989) - New Kids On The Block - Cover Girl

Earl Bamber (9th July 1990) - Roxette - It Must Have Been Love

Cristina Gutierrez (24th July 1991) - Paula Abdul - Rush Rush

Abbie Eaton (2nd January 1992) - Boyz II Men - It's So Hard To Say Goodbye To Yesterday

Timmy Hansen (21st May 1992) - En Vogue - My Lovin' (You're Never Gonna Get It)

Daniel Abt (3rd December 1992) - The Heights - How Do You Talk To An Angel

Alice Powell (26th January 1993) - Shai - If I Ever Fall In Love

Tatiana Calderon (10th March 1993) - Whitney Houston - I Will Always Love You

Christine GZ (22nd July 1993) & Alex Lynn (17th September 1993) - UB40 - Can't Help Falling In Love

Bubba Wallace (8th October 1993) - SWV - Right Here (Human Nature)

Michelle Gatting (31st December 1993) - Janet Jackson - Again

Naomi Schiff (18th May 1994) - Prince - The Most Beautiful Girl In The World

Jessica Hawkins (16th February 1995) - Boyz II Men - On Bended Knee

Luca Ghiotto (24th February 1995) - Madonna - Take A Bow

Beitske Visser (10th March 1995) - TLC - Creep

Nicholas Latifi (29th June 1995) - Nicki French - Total Eclipse Of The Heart

Jack Aitken (23rd September 1995) - Michael Jackson - You Are Not Alone

Oliver Askew (12th December 1996) - BlackStreet ft Dr Dre - No Diggity

Louis Deletraz (22nd April 1997) - Jewel - Foolish Games

Catie Munnings (15th November 1997) - Usher - You Make Me Wanna...

Cem Bolukbasi (9th February 1998) - Usher - Nice & Slow

Jamie Chadwick (20th May 1998) - Mariah Carey - My All

Kevin Hansen (28th May 1998) - Next - Too Close

Mick Schumacher (22nd March 1999) - Whitney Houston ft Faith Evans & Kelly Price - Heartbreak Hotel

Toni Breidinger (14th July 1999) & Max Fewtrell (29th July 1999) - Destiny's Child - Bills Bills Bills

Robert Shwartzman (16th September 1999) - TLC - Unpretty

Bent Viscaal (18th September 1999) - Enrique Iglesias - Bailamos

Felipe Drugovich (23rd May 2000) - Faith Hill - Breathe

Marta Garcia (9th August 2000) - Sisqo - Incomplete

Arthur Leclerc (14th October 2000) - Madonna - Music

Sophia Florsch (1st December 2000) - Creed - With Arms Wide Open

Clement Novalak (23rd December 2000) - Shaggy ft Rikrok - It Wasn't Me

Frederik Vesti (13th January 2002) - Usher - U Got It Bad

Luke Browning (31st January 2002) - Ja Rule ft Ashanti - Always On Time

Liam Lawson (11th February 2002) - Nickelback - How You Remind Me

Olli Caldwell (11th June 2002) - Fat Joe ft Ashanti - What's Luv?

Jack Doohan (20th January 2003) - Missy Elliott - Work It

All added to this playlist 😊

[d3d9]

Official Akira Pre-movie Timeline

Character childhoods, historical events etc.

hiiii Akira tumblr, I haven't been around here much but here's a translation I did. I've never seen this full timeline translated anywhere, so maybe it'll be of interest !😳

(I did a condensed version on Twitter a while ago, but I figure it's easier to follow in its original format .)

(Long post under the cut)

Source is the book Poster & Graphic Akira released in 1988. Also a special thank you to my old friend Shina-san for the photos from the book, I don't yet own a copy myself !!

1970

Nezu's birth - Born in Chiba as the third son of farmers.

1976

Colonel's birth - Has an older sister and an older brother. His father served in the Japan Defense Agency, JGSDF major.

1977

Nezu age 7 - Started elementary school.

1982

Nezu age 12 - Started middle school. Excellent grades.

1985

Nezu age 15 - Started high school.

1988

Nezu age 18 - Started law school. The disaster of Akira’s awakening occurred. In the chaos of the next 3 years, he studied life as a black marketeer. During that time he became acquainted with the people of this underworld.

Colonel age 12 - His father died to Akira’s first awakening. (He was on a special mission, suspected to be related to the Akira Project). After the world war (which ended after 3 weeks), until he was 15 he spent the next years of chaos with his mother and siblings. These events would profoundly shape his later development. (Until 1991, Japan lacked a governing body and was controlled by the US)

1992

Colonel age 16 - Started night school. Studied while working.

1993

Colonel age 17 - Having regained autonomy, Japan emulates the US and establishes an American-style military.

1994

Nezu age 24 - As university resumed operation, he returned to school.

1995

Nezu age 25 - Graduated. Passed the bar exam, and became a lawyer.

1996

Colonel age 20 - Graduated night school. Enrolled in the newly established military academy (National Defense Academy).

1999

Colonel age 23 - Graduated military academy with excellent grades. Admitted to Officer Candidate School on recommendation.

2000

Nezu age 30 - From around this time he begins to appear in politics.

Colonel age 24 - Graduates from Officer Candidate School. Enlists in the Army as a First Lieutenant.

2001

Colonel age 25 - Studies abroad at the US Department of Defense.

2002

Nezu age 32 - Hears about Miyako-sama, and becomes a devoted believer.

Colonel age 26 - Returns to Japan. Establishes the Army Special Forces. Becomes its commander. Promoted to Major.  Dispatched in the Soviet-DPRK War, which had been ongoing since 1996. He is awarded a decoration for his service.  

2003

Colonel age 27 - Through matchmaking by his superior officer, he gets married.

Kei - Born in April. Her father, born 1967 (age 36), is a teacher. She has an older brother. They're 14 years apart.

2004

Kaneda - born in September (at this time, schools would have September enrollment and August graduation). His father born 1977 (age 27). His mother born 1978 (age 26).

Yamagata - born in November. His father is a Yakuza.

Colonel age 28 - By creating a new unification of land, sea, and air defense systems, he successfully allows Japan to gain independence from the US protective defense system.

2005

Nezu age 35 - He trains diligently under Miyako, and establishes himself. From around this time he separates under a new sect of Miyako's religion, and starts a political organization, becoming its president. Behind the scenes he is backing anti-government activists at the same time.

Kai - Born in January. His father works in the construction industry. He is blessed with a good home environment.

Tetsuo - Born in July. His father born 1980 (age 25). His mother born 1981 (age 24). In 1984, as part of the Akira Project, experiments were conducted on children around the age of 10, and genetic manipulation was (secretly) performed on newly born children. The effects of this skipped a generation and manifested in Tetsuo… and are gradually beginning to show in other children.(His grandfather was a genetic engineer. He participated in the Project. He died during Akira's awakening in 1988)

Colonel age 29 - He and his wife separate. They have no children.

2006

Yamagata age 2 - His father is arrested. He will serve 25 years. His mother makes a living as a hostess.

2008

Kaneda age 4 - His little brother is born. His parents open a laundry service. His little brother is born with a disability, and goes between home and treatment centers since the time he's 2 years old.

Yamagata age 4 - His mother gets a boyfriend. A little brother is born.

Kei age 5 - Her father dies. (Illness)

Tetsuo age 3 - His father (a graduate student), who's been sickly since birth, develops pneumonia from the common cold, and dies. His parents were never officially married, so as his father's child born out of wedlock, he's poorly received by his mother's side of the family.

Colonel age 32 - He is appointed commander of the nation's top secret 'Akira Plan' as Colonel. (The 'Akira Plan' began 3 years after Akira's awakening in 1988, when the US began investigating, and in 1996 it was turned over to the Japanese government. Since then, despite organization of records and repeated experiments, there hasn't been much progress. This may be why the US let go of it….) The heads of government began to feel threatened by the Colonel's excessively growing power, so even though it was a top national secret, they appointed him to this do-nothing position to force him to withdraw from the front lines, as a means of dismissal. …As for why the Colonel resigned himself to this sinecure, perhaps it's because he was seeking answers about his father's death, or trying to fulfill his father's dying wish, or maybe he himself saw potential in this investigation…. There are various possibilities, but one can only speculate.

2009

Yamagata age 5 - His mother gets another boyfriend. A little sister is born.

Kei age 6 - Starts elementary school. Her older brother is 21. He's already a student activist while also supporting the family.

Tetsuo age 4 - His mother remarries. Tetsuo is adopted by another family. But he can't get used to his new home and is gradually shunned as a gloomy child.

2010

Kaneda age 6 - Starts elementary school. Due to the fatigue of nursing his younger brother, his father collapses.

Yamagata age 6 - Starts elementary school. Another little brother is born.

2011

Kai age 7 - Starts private elementary school. Gets excellent grades.

Tetsuo age 6 - Starts elementary school. At this time he starts repeatedly running away from home.

2012

Kaneda age 8 - Changes schools due to his little brother changing treatment centers. His mother runs off. They live off of government assistance. His father shows a distinct turn towards alcoholism. 

2013

Kaneda age 9 - His father is deemed unfit to take care of the children, so Kaneda is sent to an orphanage. His little brother is kept at a hospital. Half a year later, Tetsuo comes to the orphanage.

Tetsuo age 8 - His parents try to return him, but his birth mother won't accept him, so he's sent to an orphanage. He then meets Kaneda.

2014

Kei age 11 - Starts middle school.

2015

Kaneda age 11 - Graduates from the orphanage and goes to a boarding middle school. He's separated from Tetsuo.

Yamagata age 11 - Starts middle school. His mother continues to have children, both boys and girls. She also keeps changing boyfriends.

Kei age 12 - Her older brother is arrested as a suspect in a major incident. (Something like the Mikawashima train crash). There are rumors that it was a US plot against the organization her older brother was connected to. Following this, Kei's family was supported by donations from her brother's group, organized by her brother's junior, Ryusaku.

2016

Kaneda age 12 - His defiant attitude stands out in school.

Yamagata age 12 - Caught by the police for shoplifting. He was stealing sweets for his little siblings.

Kai age 12 - Goes to the same private academy for middle school.

Tetsuo age 11 - He's adopted again by another family. He then starts middle school.

2017

Nezu age 46 - He may be doing it to spread the religion's ideals, or he may be using the religion for his own desires, or perhaps both….?

Kaneda age 13 - A complete juvenile delinquent. His grades are above average.

Yamagata age 13 - His mother joins a new religion. He leaves home.

Kei age 14 - Her older brother dies in prison. The authorities claim it was a suicide, but it's suspected that he was tortured. Kei leaves home and asks Ryusaku if she can become an activist too.

Tetsuo age 12 - Becomes truant. Frequently runs away from home.

Colonel age 41

2018

Kaneda age 14 - Expelled after a brush with the law. Starts at vocational school.

Yamagata age 14 - Starts at vocational school.

Kai age 13 - His father runs away from home. They find him. His father confesses: "I'm gay, and have been deceiving our family this whole time…." 

Kei age 15

Tetsuo age 13 - Due to misconduct with an elementary school student, he gets in trouble with the police. From this point forward he stops going to school.

2019

Kaneda age 15 - Forms a motorcycle team at the vocational school.

Tetsuo enrolls.

Kai age 14 - As junior representative, he reads an essay titled 'Is Life A Joke' to the graduating seniors, and is suspended. One week later, he turns in his notice to withdraw, and enrolls in vocational school himself.

Tetsuo age 14 - His parents convince him to go to vocational school. He reunites with Kaneda, and is admitted. There, he joins the motorcycle team.

[starchaseriseverything]

Birthdays (bc I can)

I put my own fancasts and my headcannon b-day'

Euphemia Braithewaite-Potter - January 4, 1907

Walburga Irma-Black - April 17, 1907

Fleamont Potter - May 15, 1909

Charlus Potter (Monty' brother) - August 19, 1900

Lucretia Black (Orion' sister) - August 3, 1914

Orion Black - September 30, 1920

Druella Rosier (Axel' sister) - December 31, 1928

Axel Rosier (Rosier twins dad) - November 14, 1930

Cygnus Black (Black sisters dad) - July 30, 1938

Adele Jacob-Rosier (Rosier twins mom) - June 7, 1938

Alphard Black - June 26, 1925

Rodolphus Lestrange - October 19, 1952

Rabastan Lestrange- September 21, 1954

Lucius Malfoy - July 1, 1954

Enid Pettigrew (Peter' sister) - January 30, 1962

Mason McKinnon (Marlene' brother) - December 20, 1952

Mitchell McKinnon (Marlene' brother) - June 25, 1955

Matthew McKinnon (Marlene' brother) - November 7, 1958

Maxwell McKinnon (Marlene' brother) - February 29, 1962

Petunia Evans-Dursley - January 10, 1958

Mavan Rosier (Rosier twins brother) - March 14, 1965

Annabella Rosier (Rosier twins sister) - April 16, 1968

Elizabeth Meadows (Dorcas' sister) - May 1, 1965

Fabian Prewett - September 30, 1958

Gideon Prewett - September 30, 1958

Molly Prewett-Weasley - October 30, 1949

Billius Weasley (Arthur' brother) - May 26, 1952

Arthur Weasley - February 6, 1950

James Potter - March 27, 1960

Remus Lupin - March 10, 1960

Sirius Black - November 3, 1960

Peter Pettigrew - August 31, 1960

Lily Evans-Potter - January 30, 1960

Mary Macdonald - September 16, 1959

Marlene McKinnon - August 1, 1960

Dorcas Meadows - April 2, 1960

Bartemius Crouch Jr. - July 9, 1961

Evan Rosier - June 20, 1961

Pandora Rosier - June 20, 1961

Regulus Black - December 31, 1961

Alice Fortescue-Longbottom - August 14, 1960

Frank Longbottom - September 14, 1959

Ted Tonks - March 20, 1953

Emmeline Vance - July 18, 1957

Rita Skeeter - December 19, 1951

Ophelia Zabini - January 15, 1951

Emma Vanity - February 28, 1960

Andromeda Black - October 10, 1953

Narcissa Black - July 19, 1955

Bellatrix Black - May 2, 1991

Tom Riddle Jr. - February 19, 1979

Mattheo Riddle - January 20, 1980

Aliana Riddle - January 20, 1980

Mandy Lestrange - March 13, 1985

Cara Lestrange - May 23, 1986

Delphini Riddle - August 16, 1987

Lorenzo Berkshire - December 17, 1996

Nymphadora Tonks - October 8, 1973

Nina Tonks (Nymphadora' sister) - June 13, 1978

Lucas Rosier (Rosekiller child) - July 21, 1985

Nicholas Rosier (Rosekiller child) - July 1, 1987

Draco Malfoy - June 5, 1980

Lila Malfoy (Draco' sister) - June 5, 1980

Artemis McKinnon (Dorlene child) - September 13, 1981

Aries McKinnon (Dorlene child) - October 17, 1982

Jack McKinnon (Dorlene child) - January 23, 1987

Harry Potter - July 31, 1980

Lillian Potter (Harry' sister) - July 31, 1980

Rose Potter (Harry' sister) - May 24, 1981

Leo Potter (Harry' brother) - February 16, 1983

Pansy Parkinson - August 1, 1980

Blaise Zabini - November 1, 1980

Teddy Lupin - April 11, 1985

Neville Longbottom - July 30, 1980

Juliana Longbottom (Neville' sister) - October 15, 1986

Nicky Longbottom (Neville' brother) - October 15, 1986

Penelope Vance (Emmary child) - November 12, 1988

Hermione Granger - September 19, 1980

Violet Granger (Hermione' sister) - May 14, 1979

Bill Weasley - November 29, 1970

Charlie Weasley - December 12, 1972

Percy Weasley - August 22, 1976

Fred Weasley - April 1, 1978

George Weasley - April 1, 1978

Ron Weasley - March 1, 1980

Ginevra Weasley - August 11, 1981

Luna Lovegood - February 13, 1981

Eclipse Rosier (Pandalily child or Luna' sister) - January 11, 1985