#Beggars Parade

[guessimdumb]

The Four Seasons - Beggars Parade (1966)

I was in Santa Cruz recently, and I stopped by Streetlight Records. I picked up several 25 cent 45s, and this b-side was the clear winner. Here we have what seems to be an "anti-protester" protest folk rock song, strongly suggesting on which sidethe Four Seasons stood.

Why should you work, like the rest When it's easier to protest?

[rockwithbibberly]

Beggars and Thieves, 1991.

[kachowden]

You should make the millionare a virgin loser who doesnt know the touch of anything but his own hand and then slut reader outtttt. Make it fresh u kno?

Teaser(?)

His fingertips traced down the curve of your spine, caressing the skin that was presented to him. Calloused pads trailed along blemishes and marks like the most stunning of paintings, mapping each and every feature.

His nose bumped into the curve of your shoulder, nuzzling against the skin as he exhaled. His body cooled from the previous heat and steam of late night activities. And though he yearned for more, his mind craved the comfort of just laying together.

But all good things come to an end. The sound of a small ding coming from your phone, roused you to sit up from the silk sheeted bed. Your fingers rubbed against the sores of your muscles as you reached for the infuriating device, the bright light blinding you amidst the dark room for merely a moment before you swiped through your lock screen. He watched intently as your eyes fluttered over the text.

“Mm…It seems I have to go, Mr. K..” Your voice soothed his senses, though your words made his eyes narrow. Only slightly.

Another client.

Often times, he wondered if you did these things to taunt him. If you somehow knew of his infatuation, and paraded yourself around this way to mock him for his cowardice.

And as he bit back the urge to call you back, to tempt you back into his arms so you could sleep in each others embrace. So he could savor the feel of your skin and the smell of your hair. He believed this to be even further the case, as he was made to watch you re-dress in preparation to leave him. Alone. Again.

But he did nothing. Not even a noise of acknowledgment, leading you to believe he may have fallen asleep.

Kane was not a beggar.

Your bare feet padded across the cold wooden floor of the bedroom, and you shivered. You wanted to go back to the bed, to swaddle yourself in it’s expensive warmth. But, you needed the money. And while one night with Mr.K would hold you over for well into a month, you couldn’t stop a small seed of greed to sprout through your heart.

“I’ll pay double.”

You stopped, hand just about curved around the golden, cold handle of the door. Perhaps you had misheard?

“Im sorry?”

You turned back, nearly jumping at the sight of dark grey eyes that bore deep into your flesh. Mr.K was not an expressive man. Not even in the most intimate of actions did his facade fail him. Hardly even a noise. You often wondered if you pleased him the way he did you.

Mr.K was a very skilled lover, despite having admitted to never laying with another before you. He was attentive in ways none of your clients had ever been. Learning the in’s and out’s of your body, seemingly rapt in your pleasure more so than his own.

“I’ll pay double.”

Your lips pursed in confusion. “Double..what?”

Mr.K did not beg. He asked for very little.

“Double whatever your client is paying. If you stay tonight.”

Your skin tingled. And the offer was deliciously tempting. “It would be bad for business if I canceled now..” that was only partially true.

The air felt warmer then it had before. Your previously cooles skin now feeling hot, under the intense gaze of the man before you.

“Triple.”

Spit lodged in your throat and you choked, eyes widening momentarily, and for just a second you swore a flash of amusement had invaded those cold eyes. “Th-that’s…is there something..you want to do?” Paying so much usually meant the request would be something…more unsavory.

“Rest with me. Then, tomorrow we’ll go out together. For a date.”

That couldn’t be all?

But it was.

With a soft heart for the quiet man before you, you undressed once again and slipped beneath the now cold duvet, exhaling in tired awe at the comfort it swaddled you in.

Your skin tingled as a hot breath beat down on it, and as fingers traced against your skin and through your hair once again. Gentle kisses littered your collar and neck.

It was romantic in a way. Despite him being one of your clients, time with him always felt a bit special. A bit more intimate.

You knew Kane was a lonely man. You often wondered why he never sought out a wife for the comfort he seems to crave.

But, as his strong warm arms curved around your waist, and pulled you flush against his chest, you found yourself a bit selfishly happy about that fact.

Sleep came easily to you that night, under the intense gaze of the man beside you.

Your client stopped responding to you the following morning.

(I lost the plot so we’ll call this part 1 before delving into this guys psyche some more)

[gothhabiba]

please predict the various stages of the “are parades gentrification?” discourse

[based on this post]

Around Thanksgiving someone points out that the Macy's Day parade (in the 1920s and 30s usa) can be analysed as part of a push against ragamuffin parades, in which children dressed as houseless beggars would go around begging for candy. The anti-begging pro-commercial sentiment that regarded department-store-sponsored parades as good, clean fun, while regarding an earlier 'folk' tradition as an annoyance and a chaotic misuse of public space (especially since it evoked begging), is part of a pattern of corporatising and 'purifying' public space in NYC.

Someone vagueblogs about how obviously completely laughable it is to claim that "parades are gentrification" (even though the original post never used this term or framing). "The Village Holiday Parade is extremely queer, guys. And it's obvious that OP is a white person who has never heard of Carnival." From here a couple side-eddies of discourse break out about the usage of the term "queer" as an "umbrella term" and whether white people can go to Carnival.

People start sending the OP of the inciting post mawkish asks about how much they love their local nowhere town's special Thanksgiving parade and is it really, really wrong to go :(

Someone makes a post like "it is so clear that none of you have ever read anything on what the term 'gentrification' means and are just going by vibes."

People agreeing with the OP point out the corporatisation of Pride. This of course leads to discourse about kink at Pride, corporation floats at Pride, PDA and "straight-passing" couples at Pride, &c. The terms "homonationalism" and "pinkwashing" get thrown around. Someone claims that the very concept of such a thing as "pinkwashing" is homophobic since it ignores the fact that gay people are oppressed or something.

Someone is like um why are we arguing about whether Thanksgiving parades are good or bad while paying no attention to colonialism. Who cares if your parade on stolen land is queer or not. This gets completely ignored.

Some people argue that different parades in different locations take place for different reasons and promote different ideologies. This breaks off into another discourse tributary about various countries' Independence Day parades and whether nationalism on the part of an oppressed group or colonised nation is good or bad.

Most people however insist upon arguing about whether all parades are good or bad and take turns listing half-remembered examples of a parade being good or bad as though they are meaningfully arguing with each other.

At some point the discourse turns to whether Carnival is an example of "cultural Christianity."

The entire time no one will define what they include in their usage of the term "parade."

[thetraumaking]

The Accursed Crown

Other Chapters

Chapter 15: Thief

One thing Azula hated most were thieves. 

Unfortunate souls who could not get a proper grasp on life, stealing from others around them. The scum of the world, pathetic weaklings deserving nothing but waste and scrap. 

As a princess, she had her fair share of encounters with thieves. Petty little servants worming their way through the cracks and ending up in her chambers. Not knowing that they will soon be caught red handed when they’re elbow deep in her treasury. They even had the gall to wear her jewelry, parading around as if they stumbled up to a gold mine. 

She has no tolerance for those who steal. Especially if they take what is hers. 

Especially if they are some petty brat from a primitive nation that still uses huts and wooden boats. No engineers, no notable achievements, no nothing. Beggars who survive off of what little they manage to hunt and bits of ice.  

Scavengers, that’s what they are. 

From the moment she got word that those water fleas would be coming to their palace, she was against it. Honestly, what was her grandfather thinking? Letting these peasants inside their palace. Allowing their poor polished floors be sullied by the mud and grime they track in. 

She burned those lowlives who stole from her, at least they made some nice dummies for her to blow off some steam. A healthy way for her to manage her anger. 

A productive way for her to channel her emotions to make sure she’s under control. 

For the past month or so, it was a great way for her to train and maintain peace within her mind. Though, as she looked at the low life carelessly touching you. 

Oh if she could treat her like how she treated those who stole from her, it would have been grand. Those filthy hands that grab at her belongings should burn like the cinders. Cracked, smoking, and hot. 

‘Having a proper outlet for strong emotions will help you in maintaining a cool head in battle’

Your word rang in her head like a mantra. She couldn’t possibly attack her without repercussions, Yue may be from a back wash nation but she is a princess nonetheless. Maybe challenge her to an Agni Kai? No, she’s not fire nation nor is she worth such an honour. 

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes. 

Yue currently had her hands placed over your cheek and neck, where the most notable of scars lay. One from the brand and one from the very first offence Princess Ursa had committed where you had to burn off. 

A ball of blue danced on the palm of her hands when she took aim. 

Azula knows she can’t possibly harm the great Northern Tribe’s little Princess, so she curls her finger just so her fire would graze ever so slightly against Yue.

An audible click of the tongue was heard when you dove to save the water girl. Your hand on the back of her head, protectively pulling her closer to your chest to better dodge any more possible “attacks.”

Deducting that her acting skills might need a bit more work, she clasped her hands together. “Oops, I’m sorry, my hand slipped.” Azula tilted her head ever so cutely, feigning innocence. 

Her eyes remained on Yue. If she has a working brain, she should know to play along. An open hostility towards their host nation won’t bode too well, especially if they want their negotiations to go well. 

She unclasped her hands when she saw you help the water girl up. When she got a closer look at you, she noticed that your skin seemed to be looser? Walking up to you, she got a better look. The branded scar on your cheek was healed, the skin looked even and smooth. That’s a first. Though the tattooed number remained intact. And that large scar in your neck was also missing, replaced by smooth skin. The hands that released Yue were quick to be snatched by her, she inspected your palms and only then did she notice the lack of those signature calluses and wounds that littered your hands. The very wounds she used to trace and play with when she was younger. 

She let go of your hands before dismissing you, sending you off to fetch beverages for their esteemed guest. How dare she modify you without informing her. Just because you’re a princess doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want. 

She watched Yue fidget under her gaze, although she’s taller and older than her, nothing but a simple angling of the head can’t fix. 

“I don’t know about you but I’m famished.” When you came back with a tray in hand, she smiled at the girl, “Well? The tea isn’t going to pour itself now is it?” 

Yue wouldn't be able to defy her. They are in their territory and they are the ones looking for appeasement, they are the ones who are looking for financial stability. When she saw Yue nod, she couldn’t help but smile as if a weight had been taken off of her. 

Good. The water tribe’s princess wasn’t a fool. 

Though, she wasn’t the wisest. One should never try to appease the aggressor. But she doesn’t need to know that. 

Yue kept her head down as she raised the cup to her, offering the tea. Keeping her smile on, she brought her hand to raise it, only for glass to shatter and hot tea to spill. 

“Oops, my hand seemed to have slipped once more.” The rich brown stained the white and blue of the princess’s dress. “Pour me another.” Lifting her empty —waiting hand— she smiled. 

The grimace she was rewarded with was quite satisfactory. She waited for the second pour and like before, her hand “slipped.” She heard the lid of the teapot rattle from how her hands shook. Despite being able to follow her father around for political affairs, she’s no good at masking her emotions it seems. 

The corner of her mouth twitched. She was enjoying this. 

Though, sparing you a glance, she lets out a huff. “Geez, you’re no good at this at all, Princess Yue. In any case, why don’t you use your bending to clean this mess.” She lazily gestured to the spilled tea and shards of glass littered across the grounds. 

“But, since my purpose wasn’t to come here to humiliate you–” at first, “It appears that your father’s plea may come to fruition—” there was a hopeful gleam in her eyes at her words, and she was about to crush it. “If he manages to win the duel to show his worth.”

She watches Yue try to suppress her tears, her lips trembling and brows furrowed. 

From what her father had told her, the water tribesman would be going against Zhao. Although he is the lowest ranking soldier that is within her circle, he did manage to land a position as their trainer. He must have some skill if he can, allegedly, fill your position. And your position is nothing to scoff at, rumoured to have royal blood, a young powerful soon to be general, the youngest and fastest to have risen up the ranks, and someone who has survived and thrived within the child officer program that had the mortality rate of sixty nine. *HAH.

Though, even if he did lose, it simply means that there will be a job opening for one fortunate soul. There will be no true losses on their part, a lousy lieutenant is hardly worth anything, besides, it's a small price to pay for the entertainment that they get to have. 

Before she could taunt her more, Yue sped past her towards the direction she came from, the glass teapot shattering upon impact. 

A second passed in silence before she crossed her arms, clicking her tongue, “That girl, she could have at least made herself useful and cleaned up this mess.” She then looked at you, you were still holding the tray. “Does she even know where the arena is?”

You stayed silent. 

Grumbling, she looked down at the spilled tea and porcelain. 

“What a waste.”

[tparker48]

Request for awesomebqg

stadium was vibrant as its  lights shined on the field. Players scattered from their huddles to their assigned positions, waiting for the chance to chase after the checkered ball across the yard as the opposing side derailed their assault.  Declan approached from the left side of the offensive team, eyeing the soccer ball as it zigged and zagged between players’ legs. Hot on the heels of one of the flanks, he blitzed between two players as he pounced on the ball, taking it from the opposing team’s clutches as he kicked it into the net. 

The crowd roared in a fierce beat, sending a buzz of electricity through his body as he raised an arm. "Please please, It was only a goal. No please I..no no, I do.”

His feet swept from under him as was placed on a pedestal of his team’s shoulders, ushering him around as if he were a royal in a place. The sound of cheers roaring in the air, the weight of his team on his back, it was moments like these that made him enjoy the true feel of soccer

After minutes of parading the middle field,  the team merged into one as they entered  the narrow pathway between the bleachers. Before long, the cemented floor kissed beneath his cleats, the soft pats and shakes fading from his teammates fading as the team dispersed into their own section of the locker rooms. Declan made his way down the middle path, stopping at a locker on the end of the path as he unlatched his lock.

He wiped a towel along his drenched neck. "Another game, another victory." he wiped down his back, losing himself in the chatter of passing members as they made their way to their lockers.

But a distant voice began to make itself known, tearing through the vocal flow like an anti chord as it reached his ears. He barely had the chance to turn before a thin mass tackled him into the locker, sending them both tumbling to the floor. He squirmed beneath its weight, catching a glimpse of a lean man resting on his shoulders blades.

"For the love of-..who puts a jockstrap in the middle of the floor?" They pressed into Declan's shoulder, causing him to release a stern grunt. "Hm? Oh shit, how'd you get down there?"

"I was on my feet, until someone knocked me over."

"Ah..was wondering what where that arm pit smell was coming from. like opening a fresh bag of chips." the man sniffed the air, his fingers sliding beneath Declan's arms. "Name's Roy, I'm sort of...new around."

How formal. He eyed the man as his fingers slid out from his pits, easing to his feet. "Declan, I'm-"

"Declan?! Like, the Declan Rice?!"

“Is.. there a problem?”

“None at all, I’m your number one fan!” Roy gasped, shaking his hand vigorously. “ Oh man, it's a pleasure to meet a legend in person!!"

Declan arms jerked with the man’s force, as if it were about to pop out of its very socket. "The pleasure’s..Mine!!"

"Oh no, it’s all mine! It’s not everyday you get to see your celebrities. Surprised I didn’t see..Ah God I’m such a dunce! I tackled into Declan Rice!" Roy crumbled to his knees, clutching Declan's palm in a choke hold as if he were a beggar. “I am so sorry! Can you find it in your heart to forgive me!”

"It's fine, it's fine! It's no big deal."

"Really?" Roy asked, sighing to himself. "Thank goodness. I don't know what I'd do if I hurt you before the project."

"Er..project?" Declan asked.

"Nah, classic Roy, I forgot to tell that part." He palmed himself. "I meant to ask you if you could help me with a filming shot I'm working on. Come be the first and see the true legends at work on the fields. They'll show you why they put the 'So' in soccer."

"That sounds..like a documentary!"

"Yeah I'm still working on the trademark." Roy admitted. "But it's missing the most important thing, a sponsor! You could be that sponsor to kick it off!"

Ah, another sponsor asking for a contract. "Sorry but I don't do advertisements for free, if you wanna make a business offer, you can talk with my manager." He dusted flakes of dandruff from his shorts, reaching for his clothes folded in the locker.

"Ah, you're right. It wouldn't be right to have you help out my project without compensation." Roy dug his fingers through  his side pocket, drawing out a phone. He tapped at the screen for a moment, pulling up a website with a graph flowing toward the upper right corner of the screen. "This is the following I have on the project, at least for the past week."

Declan eyed the lining of the graph, numbers adding to the digits along the corner of the screen. "Those are all viewers?"

"Uh huh," Roy lowered his phone back into his pocket. "And they could all be following you. Just imagine, with your support behind my project, we could make it soar through the ratings. New deals, new sponsorships, and most importantly, more exposure!"

Declan blinked as Roy searched his phone, coiling a finger along his chin. More exposure could be effective, it could boost his rating,no, it could boost his very career if he went up for it. But would the team allow that? Would the coach?

He turned towards the opening of the hallway for the coach to hear his insight, but stopped in his tracks. Why should he consult the team like this, they'd suck up all of the exposure and leave him with the crumbs. He couldn't live with himself if he fumbled that big of an opportunity. No, it opened up to him first, and to him, he will ensure that it will remain to him alone.

"So?" Roy said, his cheery tone seething in his voice. "We got a deal?"

Declan shuttered at the chance this would be, reminiscing over the future achievement that spun around his mind. He turned towards Roy, nodding at the question. "It's a deal. so, where's-"

"Sweet! Trust me, you won't regret it!"

 Palms clutched  his shoulders as Roy ushered the two of them down the pathway, cutting the corner to the other side of the locker room. The deeper they went, the amount of players withered down as the once filled corridors became empty. They reach the end of the exit of the locker room before Roy stopped in his tracks, patting frantically at his pockets.

"Oh damn it, I forgot my water bottle, I must've dropped it. but where did..Oh!" He moved towards one of the side doors of the pathway, slinking past the frame as he disappeared into the darkness. "Oh! here it is! it's under this object!"

"Well, best get it before it gets lost again."

Shuffling lingered in the dark abyss, metal rattling together as Roy grunted. "I would..But it seems to be stuck on something in here." Roy said. "This is embarrassing to ask, but can you give me a hand?"

"For a bottle?"

"Please? It’s stuck tight."

This is starting to seem like a hassle rather than an opportunity. "Fine, I'm coming.”

He opened the door as wind dispersed into the locker, darkness staring back from its mouth. He squinted to the metal walls a few feet away, their handles the only thing barely visible, but no Roy.He placed a rock against the corner of the door as he ventured deeper, holding a hand out to guide as it brushed against the smooth metal pipes.

 "Alright, Im in.” Declan said. “Where are you?"

"Just a little further, Just in the next room."

The next room? How deep did he go just for a bottle? The cold walls met the bottom of his palm as its metallic texture morphed into cement. The solid hum of a heater filling the air  like a sonar.

"Okay, now what? I don't see you any-" His words were cut off as a sharp pain sunk into the side of his neck. It spread to the rest of his body as it lurched to the hardened floor, the sounds of steps echoing behind him as the tip of shoes prodded against his arm.

"I can't believe that worked, I guess you really can lure a soccer player."

"Roy?..what are.."

"I wouldn't try to talk too much Declan, you’ll get a headache that way. " Roy replied, a needle sensation searing his neck. "Why don't you go ahead and take a nice long nap."

Declan gritted as he slumped to his feet, Roy backpedaling as the soccer player reached a palm outward. The stinging sensation from the injection began to spread as it climbed his neck, his ears starting to ring as his vision grew hazy. Soon hisnwhole body began to throb, and he fell to the floor, darkness swallowing him as everything faded to black.

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

A deep hum rang in Reclan's ears, a blistering pain throbbing through his head as it laid against a plastic floor. "What happened? Where..am I?"

Through his hazed vision, he sat up as he scanned the area. He found himself inside of a plastic cage on a desk, a single fan looming above. Its size dwarfed his, looming overhead like a giant windmill up as its cold gusts blew against the translucent wall.

But it wasn't just the fan that was big, the whole room morphed before his eyes, stretching to far horizon like a great plain as light danced a twirled from the windows

“Roy..that bastard, what the hell kind of drug did he put in me? It’s making me hallucinate."

"On the contrary," A second voiced said, streaking through the air like thunder. "This is no hallucination."

The ground shook as the bottle wobbled beneath him, the plastic bottle darkened by a shadow as an unbuttoned shirt swaying into view. Standing before him was Roy, looming overhead like a giant gazing upon an ant hill. 

"Glad to see you’re finally woken up,"  Roy added. "and here I thought you'd sleep through the best part."

"Roy? What is the meaning of this? What did you do?!"

"Nothing really!" He replied, picking up the bottle between his fingers. "Just made you a little more manageable is all."

Declan tumbled as he raced to regain his balance, Roy’s palm dwindling along the curvatures of the bottle. With a simple tilt, gravity shifted as the plastic cap slammed against his back, lurching the other way as he rolled back to the center.

Roy giggled as he aligned the bottle with his eyes. "Gotta say I like this version of you, pal. like having a little ship in a bottle."

Declan floundered as the bottle see-sawed between his palms, spreading his arms and legs to keep him from falling. "You call this supporting your heroes?!"

"Watcha mean?"

"Aren't you supposed to be a number one fan? You told me you wanted help with a project, to help bring light to soccer!"

"Oooh that?" Roy said, shrugging his shoulders. "That was just something to get you to follow through."

Declan's heart tightened at the man's words. "You..were lying?"

"You got me! I have to admit I did have second thoughts about it." He tossed the palm from palm to palm as if it were a hacky sack. "I thought I'd give a sob story of some charity bullshit, but I knew you'd see right through that." Declan pin balled from wall to wall, his body pulsing upon each impact. Before long, He fell to the bottom of the bottle, just as Roy's beaming smile returned. 

"Liar!" Declan hurled his fist into the wall, its blow absorbed into its plastic. "When I get out of this you'll be dead meat!"

"Such fiery spirit, guess it's true when they say soccer player’s are known for their resilience." Roy chuckled. "I may have told a little fib about the whole fan thing, but I wasn't lying about having you for a project."

The bottle spun toward the desk, sending a blistering pain radiating Declan's rear. Roy strolled the room to his backpack along one of the wooden chairs against the wall, unzipping the middle as he pulled a  camera and a pair of metal legs. setting them up before placing them near a torn projector along the wall.

Roy's spun backpack against the side of the desk, sending the bottle in a tailspin as Declan held his stomach. "Careful where you swing that thing!" 

"Oh ho, that's the least of your worries pal." he heard Roy say, sensing anticipation in his voice. He opened one of the side pockets pulling out a clear vile as he brought to his eye level.

Declan eyed the small bottle as it sloshed between its fingers. "What..what is that?"

"Lube of course! And a nice portion to get you nice and slick for your long trip." He held the bottle close to his waist, his crotch cushioning against the glass like a sponge. "Afterall, I can't just squeeze just anything in my balls."

Declan's heart skipped a beat. "Your...balls?!"

"Yup yup, you're going down the good old slide of life." Roy said, a giggle seething from his lips. 

He untwisted both bottles before  lowering his cage to the table, hovering the bottle of lube overhead as its clear liquid lurched to the opening. Its lukewarm substance poured from the bottle like a waterfall, coating his feet in a puddle as it filled the bottle. Declan pounded against the plastic, tackling its walls in hopes to knock it over the edge.

Skin skidded against the wall as Roy laid his phallus against, a single throb forcing the bottle back. "Ah ah ah, can't let you do that, Decy."

The waterfall tilted as it showered Declan, coating him head to toe as the puddle climbed to his waist. When the last drop fell, the bottle was cast away, the cap sealing.  Roy picked up the container as he tilted it sideways, see-sawing it on its axis. It was as if Declan was thrown into a washer machine, each tilt sending a tide of lube as he slipped and glided across the walls.

 Roy giggled at Declan's floundering like a child with a ship in a bottle, watching the waves toppled and overwhelmed him. He stirred the bottle for a few more times before he finally let up, Declan splashing against the cap before sloshing to the bottle.

 "There it is, nice and slick. You'll slide right in." He said.

Declan wobbled to his feet, clinging to the wall for support. "The hell is wrong with you! You're treating this like it's some sick game!"

"A game? I'd hardly call this a game. More like..playing with my toys. Yeah, that's it!"

"Whatever the hell you want to call it, it's crazy! You can’t think that this is okay!"

"Aww what, is the big time soccer player trying to talk me out of it." Roy cooed, holding one of his testicles against the glass.  "That's just adorable. Pathetic, but adorable."

Declan grimaced as the clammed skin skidded against the bottle, shielding his gaze with an arm in hope to erase the view. Palms wrapped around the frame as it lifted into Roy’s abdomen, his balls still plastered to the glass as their round spheres undulated along his thigh. He sat down in a wooden chair in front of the camera, adjusting the lens until he filled the projector on the screen.

Roy untwisted the cap, flicking it to the floor. "Let's begin, shall we?"

Gravity lurched as the lube fell out of the opening, dragging Declan with its current as he fell from the plastic. He bounced off the pudgy shaft, just as a thumb pressured into his foot. Roy stirred the remaining lube over his shaft, drizzling over his glans as if he were pouring syrup on flapjacks before he discarded it.

He choked his girth and lathered the substance into his skin. "Mmm, just a little more twist and..There, the rocket is nice and ready." He unlatched his palm from his glistening cock. "Now it just needs its daring astronaut."

Pressure increased as he was hoisted to the air,  smacking against the cock's oily skin as it lathered his torso. He slid higher as Roy's navel rippled into view, undulating as Roy chuckled at his flailing display. Declan struck the fingers holding his foot, but his blow barely caused damage, bouncing off their forms as if he were hitting them with a wet noodle.

"That's it, keep that fire going, my guy." Roy massaged his phallus. "I wanna feel every bit of it when you're in my knockers."

Declan's head hung above the rising shaft, its length flexing to life as it smacked against Roy's abdomen. He  grimaced at the fingers massaging the sides of the cockhead, the slitted orifice stretching and closing as its soggy lips smeared together.

"I'm not going in there, you sick bastard." Declan continued his assault, gritting as a sting crawled along his heel. "Put me down!"

"If you insist." Roy’s hand lowered as it hurtled toward his throbbing shaft. He pinched the corners of the head, and the slit yawned opened.

"No! that what I mean-" His words were snuffed as his head plunged into the mouth of the cock, the orifice sending wet squelches into his ears before clamping around his neck.

"It wasn't? Huh, imagine that." Roy replied, listening to the soccer player's muted protests.

Declan pawed against the sponged flesh, his palms slipping under the loose foreskin as it coiled its juices into his fingers. He felt the fingers climb to his waist, corkscrewing the rest of his body into the gummy orifice.

The fleshy chamber squeezed at his body, muscular ripples battering into his sides like waves as he slithered deeper inside. "Mmm, It's like my body's giving ya a great big hug isn't it?" Roy cooed, "Hope you like it, cause it's only gonna get tighter from here on out."

Declan grice as the orifice climbed over his legs, drooling greedily as they were sucked inside. His feet bobbed against the tip of the head, its spongy form suckling his entire body as if he were a ring pop. With a mere flick from Roy's finger, his feet tilted as they sunk inside, slurping past the clammed lips as they sealed shut.

The world he once knew was replaced by dark pink walls, coated in Roy's salt and musk as creamy fluid lathered the crevices. Pull after pull, he was dragged deeper into the urethra, carried by Peristalsis as the gargantuan cock devoured him whole. 

A lump punched into his gut, a finger trailing on the other side. "Lumpy lumpy nice and jumpy." Roy chuckled. "You certainly aren't gonna like what comes next."

He wheezed as the finger pushed down, hastening his pace through the shriveled walls as cum parted the folds like webs. The bottom of the barrel rushed into view as it quivered, welcoming Declan with a messy kiss before taking him past its ring and into the labyrinth of Roy's insides. 

It clenched as he was deposited into the tender bean in the core of Roy’s body, Flesh snagging along his arms and legs as fluid filling the crevices lathered against him. If he doesn't do something he'll..No, he's not letting himself end up as this bastard's pastime fun. He scaveaged the walls for the hole he came in, Punching every corner he could manage as he pawed against the firm tissue. It was gone, hidden away somewhere in the chamber, but where?

The chamber jostled with his captives' laughter. "Sorry pal, can't have ya trying to walk out on the fun."

"Let me out of here, you piece of-"

"Woah woah, language. Is this how you soccer players treat one of their 'fans' ?"

"That's not the only thing you'll be treated to once when I get out here."

"keep telling yourself that. But looking at how that little lump is all squeezed up in my prostate, I don't really see that happening." Roy said. "Speaking of squeeze, you might wanna hold your breath."

The muscular bean became alive, salted seed oozing from the walls. A fold pushed beneath him as he skyrocketed into a meat pocket, and his head was jammed into a hole no bigger than himself. It yawned over his head, separating the rest of his body as succumbed to the whim of the other chamber. 

Seed belched from the tight tunnel as it spilled into the prostate, a heavy suction pulling him inside. "Its corrosive! It's getting into my mou-"

"Told ya to hold your breath." Roy giggled, his voice fading into the sounds of his body.

The valve around his neck yanked at his body, his shoulders slipping past the small ring as it chewed down to his legs. Its warm texture coiled his toes, ejecting him from the prostate and into the unknown of Roy's body. He dragged through the muscular labyrinth at  snail's pace, looping around steep curve as the walls siphoned tighter.

After almost minutes passed, gravity shifted as plonking arose below, sloshing deeply as if it were underwater. A tight orifice crowned his head as he was expunged from the tube, his body curling against a soft layer of tissue as it spooned him against a round boulder of flesh.

"Welcome to my balls! Your home away from home!" Roy said.

Declan tried to turn his head, gritting at the stinging pain building in his neck. "I can't..move!" 

"Of course you can't goofball, it's not some bubble you can just stand in." Roy fondled his left nut, watching its swollen underbelly throb with its new guest. "Gotta say though, you're a lot tighter than I thought you'd be, almost looks like a tattoo out here."

"Bastard!" Declan gritted, "Your ass is getting the beating of a lifetime when I go get of-"

“Again with the whens? Honestly buddy you’re like a broken record. But I suppose you can only bark up threats when you're swinging between my legs.”

Declan's face soured his words, straining against the soft tissue to lift the meaty ball spooning his back. 

He stopped when an odd sensation resonated from his fingers. He could feel them there, but it was hollow, as if they were phantom limbs. He pulled his arm from underneath a meaty fold, and his eyes widened. His middle finger was drenched in goo, dripping into the fleshy crevices. When it returned, there was nothing in the middle, not even as seed spilled in the middle of his palm. the numbness began to spread to his other fingers, and his heart started to race.

"My hand! What's going on with my hand?!"

"Ooh shit, I forgot to mention another thing." Roy said. "See ‘when’ you do come back out, you'll kinda be well...melted."

"What?!"

"Yeah! crazy right? But don't worry, I'll build you back together good as new. Better than new in fact!"

"You're not putting shit back! And you're not melting me!" The siphoned chamber bucked as Declan thrashed about, causing the bulging nut to throb. "Let me out of here! I..I'm not ending up as some bastard's seed."

Oh, but you are, you just need time to bake.”

The spongy testicle pressed the side of his face, fingers prodding along his back as the chamber jostled vigorously. He lurched against gravity before another soft layer draped over his back,  the sound of a zipper streaking the walls as pressure hugged his sides. Roy's steps boomed as the hollow atmosphere changed, distant whistles and chatter lingering in the distance. Is he really..no, he can;t leave him in here like this..

Declan writhed to free himself from the weight of the testicle, causing Roy to giggle. "Hey, keep it down in there" A deep pound echoed from above. “Don’t want me to bust a nut in front of the crowd now do you? Once you;re melted you ripple and shake all you want in there."

Declan gritted at the man's words, his heart shuttering at the individual word: melted. He looked beneath a fold covering his arms, seed spilling from its corners. He pulled his forearm from underneath, revealing its drenched form. He couldn't feel his hand anymore, its clumpy form slid from his wrist like fresh clay, melting with the rest of the mush as it dispersed to corner of the sac's tubes.

An hour passed as Declan swayed inside Roy’s balls, the numbness traveling through the rest of his arm as it withered away as if it were sugar in water. With each voice he heard pass by, shouted for their attention, to allow him the chance to be seen before it was too late. But his efforts fell on deaf ears as they faded in the distance, adding to his captive entertainment as his cock throb with pleasure.

As time withered farther, Declan became more restless,  punched as hard as he could against the soft wall, but it only absorbed every blow that was dished its way. In his fit of panic, the whistles drew closer as Roy's balls undulated, the sound of a roaring crowd muted but the suffocating walls. 

"Oo, cotton candy! Perfect for the occasion."  Roy said, the chamber to twist and rotate as he moved freely outside.

"Roy! you bastard! Don't treat me like your.." 

the side of his face grew numb, his view blurred as milky ooze seered from his cheek. As its tingly sensation climbed higher, his nose slanted as it slid from his face and into the increasing pool. The walls throbbed as waves rippled the chamber, scooped the loose seed into the center. it climbed to his neck, siphoned the last of the space as his lips danced against the sphincter. 

He soon lost his lips in a wave of cum, the last of his face sinking into the mush. "R..Roy....S..sto.."

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

"Buddy....buuddy..." A palm tapped at declan's head. "wakey wakey."

Declan stirred at the call. "W..wha?"

"There you are! You sagged in my sac for the whole game I thought you kicked the bucket."

"Christ it's you..." He groaned at the sound of his captive’s voices. 

"Aww, you still mad about the whole being balled thing, I promised I'd get you out didn't I?"

"That still doesn't make being in there any better." His winced as his head throbbed, his left side still liquified. "God my head hurts. Its feels like my whole spine's a fucking cactus tree."

"Yeah..heh, funny you should say that. When I jacked you out, let's just say I had some hard trajectories."

"Trajectories? What the hell are you-" he tilted his head when a prickled surface nudged the back of his head, wincing at another poked near his cheek. 

He wiggled for the rest of his body, his spine twisting normally, but he couldn’t feel his legs, or even his balls. He looked down as spiked leaves sprouted from his waist, rooting from a pot of soil was stationed along a table.

Declan's eyes grew white. "What the hell happened to my body?!"

"Well it turns out the game was a complete bust so I had to rub one out. Found a good spot behind a tree and went to town." Roy said, scratching nonchalantly at his head. "You were so gunked up, you splattered all over the tree."

"You ejaculated me onto a tree?!"

"Yeah, crazy right!" Roy shrugged. "I was aiming for the grass but hey, I managed to get some of you off the bark." 

"You didn't have the decency to use a fucking cup?! My legs are a freaking plant!" Declan yelled.

He thrashed his head around, causing the pottery to rotate on its sides. It leered to the edge of the table, dirt splashing along papers as he spun out of control. The pot tilted as gravity pulled at Declan's head, but Roy caught its side midway.

"Easy there, can't go trying to knock yourself off."

"You better fix me right this second!"

"I already told you, I could only manage to find most of you. Bet the seed’s already dried up at the field by now."

Already dried? Wait, does that mean that he's stuck like this?! His heart gripped in his chest, his career flashing in his mind. the games, the fans. "No, I'm not remaining stuck like this! There's..There's gotta be a way to reverse it!"

"Reverse? I can't just uncum and bring you back." Roy shook his head. "But look on the bright side, all that soccering stick is all in the past now. But not to worry, your old pal Roy's gonna take care of you." he drawed a camera from his back and aligned it near the edge of the table. Declan eyed him cautiously.

"What? You're crazy if you think I'm going to let you take care of me!"

"I can't? Huh, well shoot I guess I should just let you go. just hop off the table and..oh wait."

"You cocky son of a-" Declan head's bucked against a prickly leaf, cutting his words. "Just let me come to close that ugly mug of yours!"

"Aww, don't be so butt hurt, and smile for the camera!"

[kuzcoskingdom]

characters from the emperor's new groove appearing at the disney parks is very rare. i mostly just know there was once a stage show at disneyland paris that yzma and human kuzco appeared in (note to self: i should make a post about this stage show at some point), and that there have been other rare occasions when they or kronk have shown up. and i don't think pacha has ever shown up at the parks. but, i know that whenever those three have been around, they almost always look like this:

this photo is from the an event called the disney dreamers everywhere gala dinner show, also at disneyland paris, in 2013. llama kuzco was there too, actually, and in a green poncho, even!

in the first photo, you can see that kuzco, yzma, and kronk all aren't standard face characters. if they were walking out and about, they wouldn't be able to talk to you because they're wearing full body costumes and masks (i think these kinds of characters at the parks are usually called "fuzzies"). interestingly yzma and kronk have also appeared in the "villains tonight!" show that used to run on various disney cruise lines. it was a show that involved disney villains performing musical numbers from their movies, except yzma sang yzmopolis from the emperor's new school, making her song the only one to come from a tv show. i find it really interesting that they even included someone who didn't have a recognizable villain song from their movie, but anyway, in that she and kronk were just played by regular actors and looked like this:

and i don't know about anyone else, but i strongly prefer that to the first option. i don't care that they don't look 100% like the animated characters, because real people don't look 100% like the animated characters with their exaggerated proportions and face shapes--and i've seen some people speculate that that's the reason disney does this for some characters, but i just find it so weird because i can imagine that instead of feeling the "magic" of meeting kronk, i'd think it's way too obvious that he's just some guy in a mask if i saw the first person in real life! (though, i'm an adult, so i guess maybe kids would feel differently). and it's not done consistently--dr. facilier and captain hook have basically the same cartoonish, exaggerated face shape, but one is usually an actual face character and the other has a mask. the characters from big hero 6 literally just look like normal people, but they've appeared in the full body costumes and masks before. i dunno, i guess it probably also has something to do with practicality if certain characters are mostly only going to be at parades and shows, or other reasons i'm not thinking of. and, hey, beggars can't be choosers lol. i'd be incredibly happy to hear about the emperor's new groove characters appearing at the parks again no matter whether they were regular face characters or wearing the masks.

[daenerysoftarth]

The way Daenerys always always always values human life. Whether it is a beggar on the street or a disabled man paraded around for laughs or a child who is all alone in the world, she ruthlessly wildly loves people and their right to life

One of my favorite passages in Daenerys’ plot in Mereen is when she is standing on her balcony, listening to the city below, as she imagines the lives of her people playing out below. She sees happy families, parents, children, lovers, friends spending time cherishing and loving one another, in her mind’s eye. She sees life for what it should be, she sees what her people live for, what we all live for, and is determined to protect it. Even the more sympathetic characters in the series don’t display that level of compassion for their subjects, and they never humanize them in the ways that Daenerys does in her mind constantly

In a world which dehumanizes every individual and reduces them to parts, Dany is always determined to see them as whole and worthy. No matter what. Even when the world tells her that they’re worth nothing. I can’t help but adore her for that.

[dwellsinparadise]

Leaving is not enough; you must

stay gone. Train your heart

like a dog. Change the locks

even on the house he’s never

visited. You lucky, lucky girl.

You have an apartment

just your size. A bathtub

full of tea. A heart the size

of Arizona, but not nearly

so arid. Don’t wish away

your cracked past, your crooked

toes; your problems

are papier mache puppets

you made or bought

because the vendor was so

compelling you just

had to have them. You had

to have him. And you did.

And now you pull down

the bridge between your houses.

You make him call before

he visits. You take a lover

for granted, you take

a lover who looks at you

like maybe you are magic. Make

the first bottle you consume

in this place a relic. Place it

on whatever altar you fashion

with a knife and five cranberries.

Don’t lose too much weight.

Stupid girls are always trying

to disappear as revenge. And you

are not stupid. You loved a man

with more hands than a parade

of beggars, and here you stand. Heart

like a four-poster bed. Heart like a canvas.

Heart leaking something so strong

they can smell it in the street.

"Frida Kahlo to Marty McConnell"

A poem by Marty McConnell

[silyabeeodess]

TWST Glorious Masquerade: Weapons in a Fiery Garden

Even if the fiery blossoms couldn’t touch you, even if you were safe, it didn’t keep you from panicking.

Everything was in chaos. The streets once packed with cheerful crowds of festival goers were now filled with those same people running for their lives. Mages of all sorts were swarmed by the parasitic plants and their non-magic wielding friends and family were left to watch on, desperately trying to pull them free. All the while, the flowers themselves consumed everything, climbing over buildings in order to bathe the entire city in an orange glow.    

Although Professor Trein had insisted that your group could help protect the townsfolk—or at least lure the flowers away from them—it was easier said than done.  Counting him, Grim, and yourself, you were just three people. There was no way you could slow-down the city-wide infestation. Moreover, the teacher’s injuries were getting any better anytime soon.

Well, the odds could’ve been better, but the rest of your schoolmates unanimously choose to leave you behind on their quest to get to the Bell of Salvation! You: The one safe bet in this disaster! And for what? For your own safety?! To look after Trein?! Like you could really do much to defend him in this situation, when the entire town was one big hazard!   

“A little help here—!”

Grim weaved between tents, a trail of blossoms chasing after him. So far, just running around and pulling apart fistfuls of flowers was going nowhere fast.  They just kept springing up faster than you could manage them.

You looked around frantically, at last spotting something useful. There was garden shop not far from you with a row of old-fashioned tools on display in the front.  Among them was a long, wooden scythe.

You quickly darted forward and snatched it. Not to say that you had ever used one before, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Holding it low and adjusting your grip, you scampered after Grim. You cut off the flowers’ path, raised the blade, and—!

Swish!

The air roared as the weapon cut through wind and stem. Petals went flying, still glimmering like flames in their last moments. It wasn’t as sure to stop them as attacking their roots, but it certainty got the job done quick! In one movement, a whole hoard of the blooms could be cut down.

You flinched as a firm grip touched your shoulder.  It was Professor Trein.  He leaned against you for support, but his eyes burned with determination, “I have an idea! Come with me!”

You followed him as he marched up a tall flight of steps to the festival’s main stage. Raising his pen skyward, he fired a bolt of magic that erupted much like the fireworks everyone had launched earlier that day. As sparks rained back down to the earth, a wave of flowers began to rush toward you. He was calling them!

Your fingers laced tighter around the hilt of the scythe. You were ready for them… Like before, you swung madly through the fiery parade of blooms.  Emotions rising, you kept up the assault.

This was stupid!

Swish!

Leaving you behind when you were the only one not affected by the flowers was stupid!

Thwack!

Why did they have to keep pushing you to the side like you couldn’t do anything?! Mage or not, how many times had you already been forced to step in whenever any of your schoolmates landed in trouble? Not having magic didn’t mean you couldn’t fight back at all!

Chop! Slash!

The whole situation was so frustrating, you didn’t know whether you wanted to cry, scream, or both. You were mad that a perfectly good trip to relax and try to find a way home had been ruined. Mad at the flowers for hurting everyone. Mad at Rollo for bringing them back from extinction and sicking them on the city.  Mad at your friends for forcing you to stay back when nowhere was safe anyway. And mad at yourself for allowing them to think so little of you in the first place.

Your arms began to burn. Eventually, you got used to using the scythe enough not to overcompensate each swing; however, the prolonged battle gradually drained your stamina just as bad as the flowers themselves might’ve if you did have magic.  

There was simply no end to them… Over time, your mind went blank as if you were possessed. Only the need to keep your teacher and friend out of harm’s way kept you going.

Again, Grim screamed your name, “Save your boss!”

These stubborn flowers!  I want to, but—!  You grit your teeth, giving another swing.  Everything hurt, your hands, your hips…  How long had it been since you split up with the others? It felt like hours ago…

What if they didn’t make it?

Beside you, Professor Trein nearly collapsed. Grim hoped on top of him, barking at him to do something against the growing hoard.  The air was fogged over by crimson pollen, taking flight like billows of smoke and embers. By now, the flowers blanketed everything, twisting your way from every angle.  Limbs crying from overexertion, you braced yourself to cut them down once more—!

DONG, DONG, DONG…

You froze. All of you did, even the flowers.  The bell…!

Almost instantaneously, the mass of deranged flora began to wither away right before your eyes. Their petals curled and turned brown, their fiery light extinguishing. The clouds of pollen that washed over the city were blown away by a clean breeze. The nightmare ended as abruptly as it had begun.

They did it…

 You felt shaky. With a deep, relieved breath, you dropped to your knees. For a moment, it was hard to feel any certain way. You were sore and stiff, adrenaline still coursing through you as if danger might reappear at any second.

Soon enough, your phone buzzed to life—a text from Deuce, asking where you, Grim, and Trein were and confirming most of the other’s safety. You quickly messaged back just as Trein’s own phone blared, with him reporting much the same to whoever was on the other end of the line.

Just as exhausted, Grim rolled away from the professor and fell, stretched out, into your lap. With the threat now passed, his own body seemed to give up on him as well.

This was no place to sleep, but you had to follow his example—using the hilt of the scythe to keep yourself propped up in a sitting position.

….................................................

A surprised shout behind you would pull you out of your doze sometime later. You looked over your shoulder.  Azul, Idia, Malleus… everyone had re-grouped and managed to find their way here in one piece. As tired as you were, all of the anger you felt toward them had burnt out.  None of them looked much better—Deuce even had a limp—but they were otherwise ok.    

Everyone was really ok…

And staring at you, all of them mute and some mildly horrified.

You glanced down at yourself. Idia might’ve been the one wearing a skeletal reaper’s mask, but you were the one who looked like a true incarnation of Death. The dark outfit you’d been given for the masquerade was now tattered and torn. The scythe was still held tight in your hands, leaning against your shoulder. Bright, crimson pollen coated its blade, along with your clothes and face.

Epel asked you hesitantly, “Are you alright…?”

Wiping the sleep from your eyes, it took a moment to reply. “Yeah…” you swallowed dryly, but nodded, “What happened with Rollo?  Where is he?”

There was a pause, as if they were unsure whether or not to answer. Then, Silver took the first step toward you, reaching up hesitantly, “First… Give me the scythe. You might hurt yourself.”

“Who’s going to get hurt…?!” Someone whispered, but you weren’t sure which of your schoolmates aid it.

Sebek rushed forward with the other Diasomnia student as you met them at the edge of the stage, almost tearing the weapon from your grasp before you even had the chance to refuse. Left empty-handed, Silver settled instead for helping you off the platform. You felt Grim leap onto your shoulder before your feet left wooden planks to touchdown on cobblestone.

The pair would’ve helped Professor Trein down as well, but the elder soundly waved them away. As much as a hobbled from the platform’s steps, he clearly wanted to maintain some dignity.     

“Silver is right,” Sebek hounded, his brows arching intensely, “Unlike us, no one’s trained you to handle a weapon. What were you thinking?!”

For a moment, he examined the blade, then looked back your way.

“All things considered, however, if you ever want to learn how to use a sword—”

Idia stammered, “Should you really be encouraging this?! Who even uses a sword irl?!”

“It’s an integral skill for anyone!”

 “For the soldiers of Briar Valley, maybe. Not civilians,” Jamil spoke up next, “But I think that still skips over the main issue...”

Ruggie pulled his arms back behind his head in a long stretch, “Yeah, don’t go and corrupt the only normal person here.” His next words are pointed at you directly, “You heard him talk about his and Silver’s training before, right? Don’t take his offer.”

Sebek continued to argue as you joined at everyone’s side. How they even had the energy to bicker was beyond you, but enough time had passed among them that you couldn’t expect anything less.

Stepping next to you, Malleus cleared his throat, “To answer your original question, Rollo is busy repenting for his actions at the moment. He shouldn’t cause any more trouble.” Giving you a teasing look, he continued, “So, do show a little mercy when you see him. We’ll be keeping the scythe though, in case you’re tempted.”

NOTE: Not my best work, but I wanted to do something with this idea. Would've drawn it, because I think the TWST boys' reactions to best-buddy-comfort-to-all Yuu wielding a scythe would've been great, but got lazy.

[kiki-de-la-petite-flaque]

leaving is not enough; you must

stay gone. train your heart

like a dog. change the locks

even on the house he’s never

visited. you lucky, lucky girl.

you have an apartment

just your size. a bathtub

full of tea. a heart the size

of Arizona, but not nearly

so arid. don’t wish away

your cracked past, your

crooked toes, your problems

are papier mache puppets

you made or bought because the vendor

at the market was so compelling you just

had to have them. you had to have him.

and you did. and now you pull down

the bridge between your houses.

you make him call before

he visits. you take a lover

for granted, you take

a lover who looks at you

like maybe you are magic. make

the first bottle you consume

in this place a relic. place it

on whatever altar you fashion

with a knife and five cranberries.

don’t lose too much weight.

stupid girls are always trying

to disappear as revenge. and you

are not stupid. you loved a man

with more hands than a parade

of beggars, and here you stand. heart

like a four-poster bed. heart like a canvas.

heart leaking something so strong

they can smell it in the street.

Frida Kahlo to Marty McConnell, published in issue 23 of Salt Hill Journal.

[rockwithbibberly]

Beggars and Thieves, 1991.

[stalkedbytrains]

A Child of Ravens

Ravens are feared by everyone. From the barbarian nomads in the desert wastes, to the mountain kings both above and below the stone. The horse-lords fear the black birds just as their bitter rivals the Barons of the Plains.

They all know that ravens are not like other birds. They are smarter, more cunning than any other creature of the air. Some say they are even smarter than the smartest trained hound. Their feathers are key components in black magic. The birds themselves are harbingers of death, pestilence, and curses.

Beware the unkindness of ravens. Wherever they gather bad luck is destined to follow.

Hand-in-hand with the fear of ravens comes a fear and hatred of any who carry the feathers of the cursed bird. Those that hold onto them are almost certainly practitioners of the black magic of ravens. And the only ways to get a feather from a raven are to trap one and pluck it, or be gifted a feather. And those that held favor with a raven are more feared that those foolish enough to try and trap one.

Every summer the Ravenswood would empty of its denizens. Hundreds of ravens would fly out from their ancient cospe. They’d scatter in all directions, foretelling disease, famine, and the death of kings wherever they stopped.

The beginning of summer was always a tense time for the land. Every town and city and hamlet was ready for the worst, ready for a raven or two to descend. And each bastion of civilization was more than ready to chase away the cursed black birds when they appeared, or even kill those ravens that stuck around in some feeble attempt to save themselves from whatever curse they were lying upon the town.

However one town, one of the ones closest to the Ravenswood and the scrublands that bordered the Wastes didn’t see a raven, they saw a small child. Barely big enough to be considered a child, they had none of the awkward baby fat or childlike roundness that comes with being a well fed and cared for child. They were thin and long.

Careful consideration would put the child at seven or eight years old, but even that determination would require looking at the child for more than was necessary. There was something deeply unsettling about this mysterious wastrel. Their skin was white, but not the white of the Deep Mountain Lords, but white like bone. Their hair was long and tangled and black as the creeping death vine that haunts only the oldest wood. But it was the beggar child’s hands that concerned most people. They were black, and not like the skin of the Barons black, but black like tar. Black like the ravens.

The child danced into town one day, covered in ill-fitting, ill-repaired clothing. They were clearly poor and hungry, for no normal child would be so thin. They walked into town happily kicking pebbles and rocks to and fro across the moderately busy road. It was almost as if they had never experienced the joy of kicking things. Which was a normal joy for small children.

Around midday the child settled in to the middle of town, near the square, and started to beg. There were a few other orphaned children in this town, doing much the same thing. There was barely enough traffic to accommodate the beggar children. It was clear to the older ones that someone would get money or food and the rest would continue to starve.

The pale child with the stained hands started begging and it was immediately clear that this child would be a problem. Instead of offering meek gratitude and thanks at the offering of small coins or scraps of food, the child said nothing, just accepted the offering with a curious tilt of the head as they carefully inspected each thing they received.

It was becoming increasingly clear that this bizarre child couldn’t, or wouldn’t, speak. And eventually, as they settled into the routine of begging they began offering spells and other small crafts in exchange.

Even the townsfolk of this out of the way place recognized this as real magic and not the falsehood paraded around by travelers and circus-folk. This was real magic and it was something special. They manipulated shadows and made leaves dance in lines along the breath of wind.

But when someone offered an entire loaf of fresh bread to the starving child, did the child’s origins reveal themselves.

The child took the bread and immediately broke it into separate pieces for the orphans that had gathered around them. The older kids would have hit and bit anyone encroaching on their territory but this strange pale child was happy to share.

Once the bread was given out to the other orphans, the child stood up and bowed to the person who had given it. And in exchange for this great boon the child reached into their hair and plucked out a single black feather that had been there, unnoticed.

When offered to the kind soul, the benefactor recoiled in horror. “Raven feather!”

The shout was immediately followed by a wave of stunned silence. Most of the other orphans immediately scattered. A few stuck around because they didn’t want to leave what they thought as a sure thing for food and extra money.

The small child tried to offer the feather to the person a second time but that only resulted in them turning and fleeing, screaming for some sort of authority figure. The child sulked and kicked a pebble after the fleeing person before sticking the feather behind their ear.

To the two orphans that stayed near by finally saw that the wild tangle of black hair was littered with black feathers. And not in a way that suggested they were put there or stuck there, more like they grew there.

One of the orphans fled when the person who was gifted the raven feather returned, this time with more adults. The kind of adults that had that mean look to them, that would kick beggar kids out of their alleys or places along the road.

They quickly noticed the raven feathers in the child’s hair and recoiled.

An argument quickly broke out. The adults knew this kid was bad news, and that was enough for the last orphan to start backing away slowly. The raven child merely watched the adults with a very concerned expression and their head tilted slightly towards one side.

“Every since the royal family died under an entire conspiracy of ravens, you know the law. We have to execute anyone carrying raven feathers,” said one adult.

“I know the writ. I am the sheriff,” snapped another.

“Then do your job!”

“Do you want to execute a child!”

“That’s no child! It’s a raven wielding warlock! You saw the magic they were doing! They could do much worse! Probably!”

Finally, the raven child started to move, which worried the adults. One of them reached out to grab or stop them, but the child leapt back and let out a cry.

It was an almost pitch perfect mimic of a raven’s caw. And if the adults weren’t scared before they were now.

In a flash the adults had managed to get a single manacle locked around the child’s wrist, and connected it via a chain to the bell tower in the middle of the square, a hundred feet away. As they dragged the child, they struggled against the bond, cawing like mad, and throwing up shadows and things to try and get the adults to stop. Unfortunately the tiny magics were no match for the iron.

Once the child was chained and unlikely the escape the adults all retreated from the angry, cawing child. They whispered angrily among themselves in a steadily growing mob. Thankfully, cooler heads prevailed and instead of turning into an execution squad they moved into the large town hall and tavern to discuss the town’s collective next move.

The sun had started to set and the adults had all gone inside or far away from the trapped raven child. The only person to approach them was one of the orphans, the one that stuck by longer than the rest.

She was a messy girl of about eight years, covered in dust and dirt, and her clothes all frayed and worn. But they looked like they were once fancy and rich a long time ago. The dirt and street life didn’t diminish the large, gnarly scar across her neck that looked relatively fresh. She approached the raven child slowly, tentatively, as the trapped kid tried their best to pull the chain free or open the manacle.

Eventually the child tired themselves out and saw the orphan girl slowly approaching them. With their head tilted to one side they watched the girl without saying a thing.

She held out the piece of bread the raven child had given her.

They didn’t try to take it from her, so she gestured with it again, then she mimed eating the bread. The raven child nodded slowly.

The girl approached and put the bread on the ground and the backed off a few feet.

The captive eagerly reached out for the bread and tore at it. The girl thought of how much like a bird they were. They didn’t bring the bread fully to their mouth, they moved their head towards the bread.

The entire time the raven child didn’t take their eyes off the girl that offered them food. When they were done the orphan girl opened her mouth and with great pain spoke a single word in a voice that was as painful to hear as it was to use, “Talk?”

With a shake of their head the raven child only managed a quiet caw.

She offered a sad smile that seemed to say “me either”, and pointed at the scar across her neck.

An adult suddenly burst out of the town hall, and got on a horse before galloping out of town at top speed. That was the girl’s cue to leave. Best not to be seen by the adults helping the raven child if she wanted to get anything to eat tomorrow.

Night fell, and the girl found a nice rooftop to sleep on with a view of the town square. The poor raven child was still locked there, seemingly asleep under the tower. She felt bad, but there was nothing she could do.

The next day everyone avoided the bell tower and the raven child. When night fell again the girl from before returned with a small offering of food. She gave half to the raven child who smiled at her. It was a nice smile she decided.

For a couple of hours in the dead of night the two children tried in vain to pull the chain free. Even if there were two of them, they were still children, and were no match for the engineering of adults. After they tired themselves out, the raven child mimed sleeping and then pointed from the girl to the rest of town. The girl nodded, then made several gestures trying to convey that’d she’d be back tomorrow night too.

The next day was much the same, except around noon a bird flew overhead. And everyone in town stopped to watch it once it was pointed out. It was too high to see clearly at first, but as it circled closer everyone held their breath. They knew it was a raven, they were just hoping that somehow it wouldn’t turn out to be one of those cursed birds.

Sure enough, a raven landed on top of the bell tower. It cawed loudly at the chained up raven child, who responded in kind.

The villagers were growing increasingly tense as the two creatures communicated in a language that none of them knew.

Someone got the bright idea to start throwing stuff at raven who took off immediately and flew in an unnaturally straight line towards the Ravenswood.

“That executioner better get here soon!” yelled someone from the crowd.

A couple of the members of the tense town crowd tried to throw the rocks they held at the raven child, but they bounced off small walls of shadow.

Night fell and the girl returned with a meager amount of food to share. The appearance of the raven didn’t put people into a generous mood. She got more than a few kicks instead of food, but she was used to it by now.

After they pair ate their food in silence, they both tried to get the raven child free. But the wood of the bell tower was too sturdy, the chains too thick. But that didn’t stop them from trying until almost dawn.

The next day started with a clear sky, and the sun slowly rising out of the east. The townspeople were all tense, few words were said. The raven child was making everyone nervous, and the appearance of a full raven yesterday had worried everyone even more.

The sun was high and there was not a cloud in the sky. The summer heat was bordering on oppressive when someone spotted two riders in the distance.

Surely this would be the messenger and the executioner brought in from the capital. Someone with no worries about executing whatever black raven magic was manifesting as a child. Someone who could counter the curse they could feel was starting to settle over the town.

As the riders got closer, the sky started to get darker. Like a cloud had passed over the sun, but there were no clouds. There were large groups of ravens flying in. Groups from different directions. They were all approaching the town, and it looked like they would make it to town first.

An hour before the two riders appeared, every roof in town was covered in black birds. Ravens covered everything and each one was dead quiet. They were silent in the same way an army was immediately before a deadly surprise charge.

The two riders entered town. One the resident who had fled to the capital city for help, and the other an executioner complete with large, sharp ax.

The killer dismounted his horse and approached the town square. He carried himself with the confidence of a man who had been gifted great power through his faith in human government.

The ravens didn’t move.

Color seemed to be sucked out of the village. Everything was somehow muted, the only thing that stood out from the washed out colors of the dusty little town were the pure black ravens that were everywhere.

“By the power given to me by-” called the executioner loudly, reading from a piece of paper, but he didn’t get far. The ravens started cawing. Their sheer numbers, and their unnatural volume drowned out anything the executioner was trying to say.

He stopped and tried to start over, but he was no match for hundreds of ravens all cawing. Instead of trying to continue with his human orders, he pulled out the large ax he carried and brandish a holy symbol.

None of this stopped the ravens.

The executioner took several steps towards the raven child, still chained to the bell tower. He waved his holy symbol around like it meant something. But it paled in comparison to the heavy black shroud of the ravens.

As he walked forward all the ravens collectively took off into the air.

This didn’t deter him on his quest as he continued forward. But as a whole the ravens descended on the executioner. A black cloud of birds enveloped him as he tried to fight them off with his heavy ax.

Nothing hit the ravens. But when they scattered a few seconds later, the man was covered in cuts and blood. Minor wounds all, but not enough to stop the determined man.

He took a step forward and stopped. Blood was dripping into his eyes. He tried to wipe it away.

Ravens were cawing, even louder than before.

The executioner noticed that his hands were stained blacked. No it wasn’t his hands. It was the wounds. They looked like they had been infected with some sort of necromantic rot. It was in his skin.

The curse moved rapidly. His skin decayed, turning black and falling off like the burned edges of a page caught in a fire. He tried to step forward, but the curse spread from his skin to his muscles below it.

The ravens were beating their wings again.

The wind caught the executioner and carried away most of the meat of the man. He collapsed to the ground, little more than clothing and bone.

For a moment the entire town was utterly silent.

Then the people began to panic, they tried to flee the town, but the ravens once again took flight. As the people attempted to escape their town and fate, ravens blocked their path.

In the confusion the orphan girl with the scar dashed forward. She might have been relatively new to the begging business, but she learned quick. And picking someone’s pocket amid chaos was easy.

She grabbed the key to the raven child’s lock from the sheriff and ran to the middle of town. It was hard going, she was small and hungry and was fighting against a tied of terrified adults and well fed children.

Eventually she made it and made short work of the lock.

The raven child rubbed their wrist where the manacle once was. Then they looked up and took a deep breath. They cawed loudly and the entire town stopped.

The ravens settled once more. One flew out from their group and landed on the child’s shoulder.

The bird cawed softly to the child who responded just as quietly while the orphan stood awkwardly and tried not to stare.

The child reached out for the orphan with their black stained hands that looked eerily like the wounds on the dead executioner. But the girl held out her own hand.

For a second the raven child just held on to her hand. Their skin was dry but pleasingly warm. For some reason she expected it to be cold. They offered a smile and she smiled back, fleetingly for she knew the entire town was watching them. Then the raven child put three feathers pulled from their hair into the girl’s hand.

The raven child gestured with a feather, holding it between two fingers and blowing on it, till it was caught be a breeze. And then they pointed to themselves and then pointed to the girl and made a breaking motion with their hands.

She nodded as she understood. She now had three chances to call the raven child for help.

The raven on their shoulder cawed loudly and at once all the ravens took off into the sky. The two children walked quickly out of town, not stopped or hindered by any of the townspeople who were too scared to move.

Once they had left the town the ravens circled the village three times and followed the children.

A cloud settled over the town, a dark cloud. Hundreds of raven feathers fell upon the entire town, blanketing the everything in black.

The screams of terror could be heard for leagues.

Within six months the town would be nothing but a smoldering ruin. Those with sense would flee the town as quickly as possible, but they were never able to find land that would yield as many crops as any of their neighbors. Those who stayed found that their land was under constant raids by the barbarians to the west with little help from the government they put so much faith in. Those who survived the raids found a creeping blackness to the soil and the buildings that they tried to fight by burning the entire village to the ground.

Outside of town the two children parted ways. The girl bowed to the raven child, who smiled and bowed back.

The child of ravens pointed at themselves and then pointed to the ancient Ravenswood to the northwest. The girl nodded and pointed to herself and the east. She hoped to have better luck in the lands of the Barons of the Plains.

As they parted ways the girl took her three raven feathers and put them in her hair.

My kofi with all my stories

[larsisfrommars]

Wild Wild Reviews

The Night of The Inferno

Overall Score:

Story: 3/5

Dame: 4/5

Villain: 2/5

Gadgets: 5/5

Disguises: 2.5/5

Bonus Points: Gay Subtext: 1/5

The Yikes Dated Factor: -3/-5

Score: 14.5/25 (58%)

Tier: D

Next Review

FULL REVIEW UNDER CUT

The Story

It’s a pretty straight forward plot that introduces most of the core elements of the show fairly well. We’ve got our inflable and courageous James West, our over the top villains, our femme fatale and our gadgets but it feels as though the story is missing a limb. That limb of course is Artemus Gordon. Yes Ross Martin is there playing counterpart to Robert Conrad but he doesn’t really seem like the Artie we know and love yet. He’s less intelligent marvels at inventions that given the later context of the show he could’ve (and probably did) build himself, and lets Jim do the detective work. His disguises aren’t a big focus, and he’s noticeably more of a coward than he is later on. Luckily they fix all this almost immediately but between this and the casual early 60s racism this episode suffers a bit.

The Dame

Our woman of the week is Suzanne Pleshette!

Most of us young’uns know her as the witch Yubaba from Spirited Away and/or Zira from Lion King 2. However she was a very accomplished TV actress before that! I think she does a fantastic job as Lydia Monteran!

She and Jim have history which is always a fun gimmick, and certainly way more fleshed out than the parade of other women in this series. She’s got her own illegal business and lots of personality, a classic femme fatale. She just doesn’t have a lot in the way of complex/personal motivations and doesn’t really affect the plot with her direct actions, which is why she isn’t a perfect score.

The Villain

Our villains of the week are Nehemiah Persoff and Victor Buono!

Now I don’t know Persoff from anything other than Papa from American Tail. His character bordered on caricature/hammy but I am honestly shocked to say that he was WAY more entertaining to watch than Victor Buono of all people?! He was very animated and had a lot of fun lines. Meanwhile Buono (who I know as the unhinged King Tut from Batman) was both chronically underutilized and the crux of the more dated and problematic aspects of this installation of the series. Generally though these villains lacked the camp and ridiculous plans/motivations that I love the series for. So I’d say they’re a little subpar overall

The Gadgets

The gadgets were PHENOMENAL in this episode. If it has a real saving grace it’s the gizmos, a cornerstone of what makes this show work. We get an introduction to The Wanderer, West’s notorious toolbox boot heels, and a really fun Chekhov’s Gun scenario with the self-defense measures built into the billiards table! Excellent visuals and gimmicks that will carry on throughout the series.

The Disguises

The disguises were… eh. Which makes sense for the pilot but also it’s a shame, considering just how much it becomes an integral part of Ross Martin’s multi-faceted performance as Artemus Gordon. We get him as some sorta grave robber/carpet bagger that seems to exclusively exist to be silly at Jim’s expense, and a brief appearance as a Mexican beggar. Only one really makes sense for the story and we see it for all of two seconds.

The Gay Subtext

(Don’t ship it? Skip it!)

So long as Artemus and Jim are in an episode together the Gay score will never be 0. That being said they haven’t established a rapport, or even Artemus as a solid character yet. So is absolutely bottom rung for subtext in a given episode to me. Artemus frets over Jim a little and musters up his courage in spooky environs but that’s about it.

The Yikes Dated Factor

I’m giving this a solid -3 because yes there are more sexist/racist episodes than this but there are also LESS racist/sexist episodes of this show than this one. The only reason this doesn’t get a worse score for the yellow face is because it was part of the villain’s ploy, so they technically didn’t have a white man playing a Chinese guy. It was a white guy pretending to be Mexican pretending to be Chinese, which is almost funny, almost. But then, we got a couple white guys playing Mexicans which (there are plenty of people in the Latine diaspora who are white.) still runs into caricature and colorism issues. The baddies are all foreigners sometimes pretending to be different foreigners with some casual orientalism. But hey! At least the Spanish wasn’t gibberish!

[agirlalreadyhurt]

“Leaving is not enough; you must

stay gone. Train your heart

like a dog. Change the locks

even on the house he’s never

visited. You lucky, lucky girl.

You have an apartment

just your size. A bathtub

full of tea. A heart the size

of Arizona, but not nearly

so arid. Don’t wish away

your cracked past, your crooked

toes; your problems

are papier mache puppets

you made or bought

because the vendor was so

compelling you just

had to have them. You had

to have him. And you did.

And now you pull down

the bridge between your houses.

You make him call before

he visits. You take a lover

for granted, you take

a lover who looks at you

like maybe you are magic. Make

the first bottle you consume

in this place a relic. Place it

on whatever altar you fashion

with a knife and five cranberries.

Don’t lose too much weight.

Stupid girls are always trying

to disappear as revenge. And you

are not stupid. You loved a man

with more hands than a parade

of beggars, and here you stand. Heart

like a four-poster bed. Heart like a canvas.

Heart leaking something so strong

they can smell it in the street."

Frida Kahlo to Marty McConnell.

[trensu]

I've recently reread Boyfriend Material by Alexis Hall, and I can't help but think it'd be a fun modern day steddie au.

It's a bit of a stretch, probably, but Eddie could work at a struggling, obscure charity. Not sure exactly which role, but the charity is so small it doesn't even matter because if any of the, what, five or so people who work there get caught in a scandalous situation it would mean bad, reputation-ruining press for the group. And Eddie getting photographed while he, idk, drunkenly makes his way home after a quickie in the alley behind a bar or smth is MOST DEFINITELY bad press. Now, Eddie may not care what people say about him, but he also doesn't want to be responsible for the charity's collapse either. He's not heartless.

In order to rehabilitate his public image, he needs to get himself a respectable boyfriend. You know, so he could be a PR-friendly type of gay. Does conforming to heteronormative expectations for his hypothetical queer relationship make him wanna grind his teeth to dust? You bet your ass it does!! But again, he can't have the death of the charity weighing on his conscience.

He's bemoaning his plight to his bestie Chrissy, who has the brilliant idea to hook him up with Steve Harrington.

"No. Nope! No fucking way," says Eddie. "He's a dick who thinks he's better than everyone else!"

Chrissy gasps in offense. "Not true! Steve's actually a really sweet guy, and I know if you just gave him a chance, you two would make a great couple!"

"Chris, I already gave him a chance. Like, two years ago at that Halloween party. Put the moves on him, took him home, and I woke up completely alone, fully clothed and sadly untouched the next morning. And the one time someone thought we were together? He laughed. Like the thought of dating someone as low on the social ladder as me was absurd. The guy hates me!"

Chrissy looked completely baffled. "Well that doesn't make sense at all! Robin said-- nevermind, there must've been some misunderstanding."

"I know you find this hard to believe, my love, but your girlfriend is, on occasion, absolutely and completely wrong," Eddie crosses his arms defensively. "Whatever. It doesn't even matter because it's not happening. And he's not even my type."

"Now that's a lie. He's totally your type," Chrissy counters smugly. Damn her for being his best friend for nearly a decade and knowing him better than anyone else on the planet. Eddie, maturely, sticks his tongue out at her, which she immediately reciprocates because they're besties for a reason.

"Even if he wasn't," she continues, "he's exactly the kind of person you need for this! He's a Harrington, for one." Chrissy starts ticking off fingers. "He chose to work at a public school even though he could've gotten a cushy, better paying job at his dad's company. Not to mention, his inheritance is big enough that he doesn't even need to work!"

"Ha, so he's stealing jobs from more qualified candidates to fuel his own ego!" Eddie tries, but Chrissy narrows her eyes so venomously it makes Eddie feel a twinge of guilt for the admittedly baseless accusation.

"And, and!" Chrissy plows on as if Eddie hadn't interrupted, "he volunteers at after-school programs for underprivileged kids. You literally cannot find a more wholesome or attractive guy for this. I mean, his own parents still parade him around occasionally when they wanna score brownie points with the press."

Eddie opens his mouth to make a snarky comment and instead grimaces when Chrissy kicks him under the table. Then she metaphorically kicks him in the teeth with the most sugary sweet tone when she finishes her last, most pertinent point.

"Besides, beggars can't be choosers."

Eddie throws his arms up in dramatic defeat. "Fine! Fine. I guess I can at least give this a try."

Chrissy squeals excitedly and starts tapping rapidly on her cell. "I'll let Robin know so she can help set up a date!"

Eddie drops his head in his hands and lets out a pathetic, drawn-out groan of misery.

"Trust me, Eddie-bear, this is gonna work out perfectly and you can thank me in your wedding speech when you two get married!"

--

One week later sees Eddie walking into a restaurant that is so far out of his price range it might as well be on another continent. He feels severely underdressed in his only pair of unripped black pants and the wine-red button down that Chrissy bought him for his birthday that was a size too small and pinched uncomfortably across the shoulders.

Steve spots him from the table he'd picked for them, and stands up as Eddie approaches like some kind of old timey gentleman. Eddie is abruptly certain that if Steve had been wearing a hat, he'd have removed it respectfully as if Eddie were a proper lady. He goes so far as to pull out Eddie's chair for him. A part of Eddie melts a little at the treatment, but a larger part beats that part with a nail bat and feels a bit condescended.

"Eddie, hi," Steve says with a tight smile. "It's, uh, it's good to see you."

Eddie swallows down a sudden bout of nerves. He sees Steve's eyes flicker down, and for a brief, completely insane moment, he thinks Steve was following the line if his throat down to where he had left a probably less than appropriate number of buttons undone on his shirt (which he cannot be faulted for because seriously, Chrissy should know his shirt size by now). But no, of course not, because Steve's eyes continue down to look at the wine list at their table.

"Hey, yeah," Eddie responds awkwardly. "Um, same."

The silence that follows is, in a word, excruciating. Eddie is seriously tempted to take the nearby fork and stab himself in the neck just to escape. So of course when the silence is broken its because they start talking over one another.

"Did you want to look at the wine m--"

"So how expensive is this--"

They stop simultaneously. With another tight smile, Steve gestures for Eddie to go on. Eddie clears his throat.

"I was asking what the price range is for this place? It's not my, uh, usual scene so I don't really know what to expect."

Steve's smile warms a little. "Yeah, no, don’t worry. I'm paying. "

Eddie can't even enjoy the small change in Steve's smile because the trailer trash kid in him reared its head at the implication.

"No! No, jesus, that not what I meant," Steve interrupts. "Look, I picked the place so it's only fair that I pay for this da--uh, outing."

"I can pay for myself, you know," Eddie snaps. "Just because I didn't have a trust fund doesn't mean--"

Eddie scowls. "No, I'd rather pay for myself, thanks."

Steve sighs and looks like his wants to pinch the bridge of his nose like a fed up school teacher. Which, good. Serves his privileged ass right.

"Listen, just let me pay this time. Please?" He barrels on before Eddie can protest. "If it helps, the chef is one of the kids I used to babysit when I was in high school, okay? She only started working here a couple of months back and I want to support her. She's fantastic, I promise. Worth every penny. But you know how it is. No matter how good you are at something, there's always moments of doubt and she's had a rough week."

Steve finishes with stubborn set to his unfairly handsome jaw. Jesus H Christ, what was Eddie supposed to do with that? Of course Steve had to have a stupidly cute and sentimental excuse to pay. Now Eddie will be the asshole if he kicks up a fuss.

"Fine," Eddie begrudgingly relents. The smile that forms pretty pink lips is one of the sweetest Eddie's ever seen. It crinkles the corners of Steve's eyes. Eddie swallows nervously and goes back to fiddling with his fork. There's a fluttering in his chest that he's trying hard to convince himself is heartburn. It isn't.

Fuckfuckfuck.

Steve's started pointing out different dishes that this El person apparently invented herself, but Eddie can't focus on his words. He's too entranced by Steve's voice and the way his whole demeanor relaxed when he started talking about El. Eddie again contemplates stabbing himself with the fork.

He's so fucking fucked.