#I never do them on my own it feels... weird

[hello-sweetheart]

Dog Groomer Eddie

Eddie who faces the facts that he needs a skill besides music to make money because he loves the band, loves playing, but man the pay is shit. And he’s a dog person, never been able to have a dog and his apartment doesn’t allow pets either so he tries his hand at dog grooming.

He’s actually like, really good at it. Works at a groomers for a couple of years, wins contest that rewards him with some cash and the notoriety needed to find an investor and start his own dog salon.

Fast forward, Steve is visits a dog groomer that was recommended to him by a friend called Metalhead Groomers. The place has metal playing from the speakers which is a weird choice, but it sticks true to the name. The guy at the front has the name tag ‘Jeff’ who has piercing and tattoos, large guy, very intimidating.

But the place looks clean, it has 5 stars, and when Jeff checks in Antoinette he’s actually super nice, like a gentle giant. So Steve’s like, “I don’t particularly care for a cut, you can do whatever.”

“Do you want the full package? It includes a bath, full hygiene routine, dye job, and a specialized cut.”

And steve does not process the ‘dye’ part and agrees.

So see, Eddie, and by extension Metalhead Groomers, is known for their really eccentric and creative work. It’s how Eddie won his first contest after all. And the best worst thing you can give an artist is full reign. But free rein of a standard poodle?? A dog groomers dream come true.

When Steve goes to pick up Antoinette, Eddie hands her over and…

Her ears are curled and dyed in pastel colors with bows and sparkles. Stands of hair above her eyes are streaked pink and look as if they’re some type of falsie lash. Her legs and tail have been dyed a pastel blue ombré. The rest of her body shaved down except for some plush detailed work of large light pink hearts on her sides and a detailed bow on her lower back . Her tail is fluffed and cut into the shape of a heart.

“What the fuck did you do??”

“Dude, you asked for the full package and said ‘do whatever you want’ so… tada! I took some inspiration from her name, but this is kinda mild compared to my other work tbh.”

It takes Eddie explaining that that it’s pet safe dye, she wasn’t hurt, and actually enjoyed all the attention she received for Steve to calm down.

Fast forward a week and Steve comes back into the shop to apologize for blowing up on Eddie. Turns out Antoinette (Nettie for short) is a service dog and her look actually helps people be more aware of her. Steve also feels safer that she’s more identified cuz apparently there’s actually people that steal service animals?? Eddie was not aware of that. Plus, Steve works with young kids and they love Nettie’s look, it makes them more comfortable and engage more.

[eddiethebrave]

secret admirer part twenty-two

759 words

one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen seventeen eighteen nineteen twenty twenty-one

Eddie do you ever think about what you’re gonna do after high school? like how am i expected to know what i want to do with my life? i mean, i have another year to think about it but not that much can change in a year you probably wanna do something with music, right? make it big with your band and have people screaming your songs i’d go to every show if i could be your own personal groupie who knows? maybe that’s my calling p.s. have a good time at hellfire tonight i hope you win !!!!! -H

You’d think the win last night would put him in high spirits, and it did. At first. He celebrated with the guys, passed on the get together someone suggested, and drove home feeling proud. It was when he was laying in bed, though, that he started thinking. When he graduates, how often will he be able to ride a high like that? From pure accomplishment?

Steve puts on a brave face for morning practice. He doesn’t wanna drag anyone down with him. He goes through the motions of accepting congratulations and pats on the back from his peers and teachers alike all morning long. 

It only makes him think, though. 

Seriously, what comes after this? More school? Does he accept that internship at his father’s soul sucking company? Does he get a gob and jump right into adulthood?

What it really comes down to is the fact that Steve had never thought he’d have a future. Honestly. He’s getting closer and closer everyday to the next stage in his life, though. The years snuck up on him and now he has to deal with it. 

On a lesser scale, Steve doesn’t like thinking about what life will be like once Eddie graduates this coming May. How is Steve meant to tolerate this hellhole without him? Sure, he’d gone years without really noticing him, but now that he knows what it’s like to have a taste of him in his life, he doesn’t think he could go back. 

The whole thing makes his pulse quicken and sweat begin to bead at his hairline. By the time he makes it to art class, there’s a tension forming at his temples and he’s not looking forward to the headache. He doesn’t think he has it in him to act like everything’s normal. 

For once, Carol doesn’t acknowledge his foul mood. She’s too busy staring at Robin. For the portrait, of course. 

The teacher had informed them today the class is basically a free period and they can choose what to work on or what to not work on. 

Steve sits slumped over the table with his head resting on his folded arms. He kind of wishes Eddie hadn’t put the divider up and also that he had his sunglasses so he could stare at him without feeling weird about it. 

Instead, he rests his eyes and tunes into the sounds of pencil on paper surrounding him. He dozes for a while and has nearly fallen asleep when he’s awoken with a poke to his cheek. 

Steve peels his eyes open, but no one seems to be wanting his attention. There is, however, a piece of paper placed next to his left arm. 

It’s a drawing. 

A stick figure with tall swoopy hair and eerily realistic eyes. 

Steve looks to his left, only to find the culprit still hard at work with his face tucked behind the divider. 

Steve visually fills in the blank and surmises Eddie’s smile probably matches his own. 

Steve doesn’t dare fold the paper. He tucks it into the notebook he has to keep it safe. Throughout the rest of the day, he opens the book just to look at it. When he takes it home, he tapes it to a wall in his bedroom, somewhere he can always see it. 

Eddie did i ever tell you how sweet it is that your club has matching tees? i haven’t seen anyone who doesn’t do sports or the school band have a uniform but it makes sense that other clubs would, too you look good in black, don’t get me wrong, but GOD i thought i was gonna die the first time i saw yours so thanks for that also, while we’re on the subject of how hot you are,  you should wear your hair up more often p.s. sorry about the existential crisis on friday i wasn’t doing too good but i got a pick-me-up eventually <3 -H

tag list (closed)

@sofadofax @noodle-shenaniganery @queenie-ofthe-void @friendlyneighborhoodgaycousin @devondespresso

@dreamingtheimpossibe @plutoshelm @jaywhohasthegay @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie

@dreamy-jeans137 @justdrugsformethanks @estrellami-1 @travelingtwentysomething @sleepy-steve

@wheneverfeasible @bisexual-and-broke @lil-gremlin-things @n0-1-important @xxbottlecapx

@tinyplanet95 @dannys-guilt-ridden-cockroach @theohohmoment @corvus-perplexus @hippieg1rl420

@blurryjoji @bookbinderbitch @arthurianace @dragonmama76 @thesuninyaface

@tillystealeaves @p0lybl4nkk @sageclipse @mugloversonly @chameleonhair

@thedragonsaunt @yesdangerpls @sanctumdemunson @slv-333 @loguine-linguine

@resident-gay-bitch @anaibis @moomkin77 @thrashbatx @salchica

@flustratedcas @ajeff855 @nerdyglassescheeseychick @pearynice @imaginary-maggie-waggie

[cloudnineminusnine]

How would the Destined One and Wukong (separate) react to you asking to sit on their face?😏😏🙂‍↕️

P.s- Love your blog here on Tumblr, I do sincerely hope it doesn’t make you uncomfortable, only answer if you wish of course💖

oh, it's fine anon! it doesn't make me uncomfortable, not at all. i apologize in advance for any spell mistakes as i'm still learning to write in english.

without further ado, here you go! (and nanashiii thank you once again, partner in crime 😶‍🌫️)

!NSFW CONTENT AHEAD SO MINORS GET OUT!

in both situations you're in the middle of things with them. afab reader!

♡ sun wukong got your sweaty body caged by his hairy arms, pressing your arched back on the smooth surface with the weight of his own body, lips avidly leaving trails of his devotion over your exposed neck and chest — when they weren't busy muffling your needy murmurs.

you can barely take your stare away from his lustful eyes, piercing you so hungrily "please, i- let me sit in your face, please!" a hot breath blows past your lips, heavy with so much desire that it makes you feel dizzy. he's shivering above your body, clenching his jaw to suppress a scandalous moaning from escaping.

"you...!" oh, so that was the reason you wouldn't take your eyes off him, getting all worked up everytime his eyes rolled to the back of his skull in pleasure. he knew you were up to something, acting weird somehow, spacing out. fine, he gives you the permission to turn that humble wish of yours into reality. it would be kind of the same as eating you out, rigth? so no complaints on his side.

for the first time ever you would be in charge, literally on top of him. he seems enthusiastic about the idea, amusement painted all over his face, and a smug grin showing up when you slowly push him backwards, crawling over him. he tries his best to not burst his load as soon as your hips are hovering his face, so close that your scent impregnate his senses, luring him in.

almost at your limit, there's no time for you to lose with being ashamed. your trembling knees sit around his head and the touch of his big rough hands find it's way immediately up your tensed thights, smoothing your skin lovingly. he's got the perfect balance in between calm and restlessness.

"now do it, love. sit on my face with all that you have, just as you want." he encourages you, and there's a faint hint of a plead in his tone that makes your insides squint. you can't control yourself when he's talking to you like that, staring at you like that. he looked totally blissed out. brown pupils filled with adoration being eclipsed by the heavy eyelids.

you do as said, crying out loud when you meet the hasty tongue halfway. he goes in like he's in a hurry, not able to wait anymore, not wanting to, giving in to the temptation of being drowned by your heated core.

and it was kind of different than eating you out. but so, so much better. the heaviness of your naughty hips moving against his mouth and the warmth of your soft thighs around his sensitive ears, i'ts so hot. he goes feral, immobilizing your legs with the tight grip of his hands to keep you in place, wet tongue burning and messing each and every spot he can reach as your juices drip by the corners of his lips.

you can sense his non stop moans vibrating deliciously through your soaked walls, making it hard for you to not just give in and cum all over his face. you can't just yet. you need him inside.

some time is needed for the both of you to calm down, to climb down from the top of a iminent climax. the overwhelming feeling making your legs so weak that you simply sit above his chest, delighted by the sight ahead.

he looks so fucked out, like never before, and just the image is enough to pull a painful moan out of you. panting deeply in the middle of horny grunts, you can see those beautiful eyes of him blurred by lust, yet he still smiles like the cocky monkey he is — vestiges your nectar glistering over his lips and chin.

you can tell it's not enough for him by the way he nips at your inner thighs with his teeth, slowly lapping each bite right after, hairy hands easing carefully your petrifying tension until you feel like feeding him again.

♡ the so called destined one, less composed than he normally is when it comes to you. whenever you two start to make out he find a way to have your body closer, to the point of almost fusing in one single being. he's always on the verge of desperation, wanting to make sure that you feel pampered, worshipped — and of course you take advantage of the fact that he clearly has a sweet spot for you.

"you know, i..." sultrily you whisper against his lips, making him fidget under you, gulping down with anticipation"i wonder how it feels to sit in your face" faking a innocent tone you bat your lashes smoothly at him, earning a frustrated, low mumble in response. you know just how to melt him.

mesmerized by your lustful hungry eyes he surrenders himself readily, lying on his back as soon as your hand push him to. you travel up his body with your lips first, kissing everywhere in an attempt to calm him down a little — his breath has gotten rigged to the point of coloring his handsome face in scarlet red. so adorable.

he begs you silently with his endearing, pretty brown eyes, shivering under the weight of your body and words, barely breathing cause the air around you suddenly feels so dense.

"is that alright? would you like that, sweetie?" you lick his neck intensely, causing visible chills to run through his torso. he's nothing but a mess, losing himself to desire so easily.

moaning wholeheartedly, he break down from his silent facade. big calloused hands make their way to your waist so he can press you down on him. he so want it. "yes, please-... please do it!" in a painful expression his brows frown, accompanied right away by that obscenely raspy voice, causing you to throb eagerly.

one last prolonged kiss to his jawline, inhaling his fruity scent harshly, and then you're ready to go. he watches intently as your hips approach his face, your smaller hands guiding his to your thighs — wich causes him to pulsate down bellow. he feels like a vulnerable prey ready to be engulfed by you, and he loves it.

"you can touch me as much as you want, alright?" as you hover his mouth you let go of his agitated hands which waste no time, squeezing, kneading and caressing your responsive body, burning over your sensitive skin.

he goes for it thirstily, it feels like the it's first time he's exploring you, but he knows just where to touch and what to do, feeling you up in way that makes you lose a bit of your balance, immediately sitting right on his face. you try your best do keep the surprised scream to yourself, firmly biting down on you lip. a hoarse grunt resonates through your insides and he presses you so hard that his wet muscle seems to go deeper than it would usually.

he's not much skilled and that's exactly why everything with him gets much more intense. it's all about how good he wants to make you feel, and how needy he turns to be in the process.

the more you spill over his mouth the more he wants to drown himself in, the harder he squeeze your hips and waist. he needs more, he wants to get fully drunk on you.

you're on the verge of cumming already, lightheaded, sweaty and panting, but you can't stop riding him — and he's taking it so, so good.

[gravegroves]

Cleaning up my google docs and posting the stuff I think isn't entirely terrible. Enjoy.

Tags & warnings: horror themes, Karen is the Mindflayer, Karen is a warning all on her own, non-graphic references to injury, Billy and Heather friendship, blink and you'll miss it reference to possible future Steve/Billy and Robin/Heather

Rating: M for horror

There's something wrong with Karen Wheeler

*****

He fucked up.

Billy knows this.

Inviting her to the motel for private swimming lessons had been really fucking stupid in retrospect. Still, he'd sat there on that musty motel bed all dolled up and waited for a woman he knew he wouldn't be able to stay hard for and had gotten panicky because of it.

Not that she had shown up in the end. Thank god.

Barely five seconds past the arranged meeting time and Billy had slammed out of the room like the devil was on his ass. He'd sprinted to the Camaro and hightailed it out of there with the windows rolled down low and the night air drying the nervous sweat on his brow, bringing with it a little bit of clarity. He'd laughed around the unlit cigarette pinched between his lips and let the relief wash over him like a potent high. As the rush of adrenalin slowly drained from his system, it had left his hands shaky and clammy on the wheel but his foot heavy on the gas, eager to get home for once.

A bullet dodged.

Or so he had thought.

*****

The next morning Billy saunters out into the pool area in his usual red board shorts and immediately notices Mrs Wheeler lounging in her customary spot, nestled in amongst the row of other preening moms desperate for a scrap of his attention. The hungry stares usually fill him with a great sense of confidence — there's nothing quite as intoxicating as feeling wanted — but now they only make him feel nauseous.

Mrs. Wheeler is clothed from head to toe, making her stick out like a sore thumb next to her peers and situated in such a way that the umbrella above her is keeping her fully in the shade. Her gaze snaps to him the second his bare feet connect with the hot concrete and Billy feels a chill running up his spine out of fucking nowhere. His swagger stutters for a second, all the confidence lost in a moment of surprise. He catches himself easily enough, compliments Mrs Groyer on her new hat and power walks over to his chair, eager to pass by Mrs Wheeler without any kind of contact. He swears he can feel her eyes on his back the entire way over. Confirms it when he climbs up into his seat and looks back over to find her gaze still fixed on him, unblinking.

What the fuck has he gotten himself into?

*****

Morning passes into afternoon uneventfully, though Billy finds himself increasingly distracted. It's hard not to with Mrs Wheeler openly staring at him every time his gaze flits to her end of the pool and by the end of the day it's gone from weird and bewildering to downright creepy. He fully expects the woman to get up and walk up to the guard station at any second, so Billy spends his entire shift at the edge of his seat, waiting.

But she never moves.

All she does is stare.

*****

The rush of relief from the previous night has all but evaporated by closing time. A few stragglers are still hanging around and trying to squeeze in a few extra minutes in the water before Billy or Heather decide to kick them out. At the end of the pool, all alone, still as a statue, Karen Wheeler continues to lounge and watch him just as she has been all goddamn day.

Billy doesn't know what to do. He's had girls all over him for the past couple of years, but it's never been like this. He doesn't even know what this is.

Heather had caught on to his situation a few hours ago and while at first she had laughed at him from the shade of the front desk, now she shoots him worried looks between scooping pool noodles out of the water, trying to ask him without words what the hell is going on. Not that Mrs Wheeler ever seems to take her eyes off Billy long enough to notice Heather at all. Billy wouldn't even know how to answer the question anyway, so he just shrugs in response and ignores the prickling on his neck as he goes about checking the pool filter.

Half past eight and Billy kicks out the last two idiots he finds hiding behind the supply shed. He sneaks a last peak around the pool and feels a wave of relief wash over him when Mrs Wheeler's lounge chair is empty for the first time all day. A more thorough sweep of the area and Billy still doesn't catch sight of the woman.

Rushed by this sudden window of being unobserved, Billy quickly wipes down the guard chair and heads directly for the changing rooms, determined to get the fuck out of there as quickly as possible. He thinks he hears Heather calling out to him as the door swings shut, but Billy has tunnel-visioned in on his objective:

Get changed. Get out of there. Fuck the shower, he'll take one at home.

Except there's a Karen-sized problem standing between Billy and his locker and he freezes mid-step upon entering the changing room.

Under the fluorescent light Mrs Wheeler almost looks blue, her unusually pale skin taking to the light in an odd way. Her clothes are soaked and Billy notices a trail of water leading from the puddle at her feet and out into the showers. In her hand is a bottle of something that looks like the bleach they use for cleaning the floors.

Her eyes are dark and empty and so intently fixed on Billy that his skin begins to crawl as if a thousand spiders have suddenly made a home of his body. She takes a step forward and Billy feels absolutely pinned under her gaze, fight or flight abandoning his brain and leaving him absolutely petrified for some unknown reason.

The door swings open behind him and Heather barges through the door, looking wide-eyed but with a wide smile already plastered onto her face.

"Mrs Wheeler!" Heather's bright, fake-cheerful voice cuts through the silence of the locker room, almost making a mockery out of Billy's panicked state. God, what is wrong with him? "I'm so sorry to do this, but Billy and I really need to close the pool down now. If you wouldn't mind…" Heather steps back and gestures at the door with her whole hand, the same way they've been told to do by their boss time and time again. It's inviting, apparently. Billy never really got the memo, his pointer finger works just fine. But even with a gun to his head, Billy doesn't think he could have worked his muscles to point the way out in that moment, rooted to the spot as he is.

The woman's entire demeanour changes before their eyes. Her gaze fills somehow, feels less like a mannequin staring at you from a Sears storefront and more like somebody's at home in there somewhere.

"Oh, of course!" Mrs Wheeler places the bottle on the bench with the hollow thunk of an empty plastic container. "I just wanted to ask if Billy was still up for those private swimming lessons."

She says it without a hint of innuendo, but from the way Heather's brows climb her forehead she reads the meaning loud and clear. Not exactly Billy's best work.

"All booked out, sorry Mrs W," Billy grins, regaining some of the swagger he seems to have lost along with his balls.

"Well, you let me know if that changes." Mrs Wheeler smiles politely and moves towards the door.

"Sure thing," Billy promises, already sure he's never going to approach Karen Wheeler for anything ever again if he can help it. She walks past them, bringing with her a stinging odour of chemicals and something sickly sweet, like rotting meat.

The changing room door finally slams closed. Heather turns to him.

"For real?"

Billy smirks a little, despite himself.

"She stayed for your entire shift to ask about private swimming lessons?"

"Guess I'm just worth the wait," Billy licks his bottom lip and bites it suggestively.

She shoots him an unimpressed look with a muttered, "Sure, sure," and drops her duffle onto the bench, "You gonna drive me home for saving your ass, or what? Mrs Wheeler is probably hiding in a bush somewhere waiting to jump me for interrupting your little moment." 

He rolls his eyes, "In your wildest dreams, loser."

Heather gives him a pitying look. "Private. Swimming. lessons."

Billy chokes, "God, I fucking hate you."

She grins and wiggles her fingers at him mockingly, "No you don't."

He doesn't. Heather is the closest thing to a real friend Billy's ever had, truth be told, the only good thing about this shit-stinking, two-horse town in Billy's not so humble opinion.

"I'm getting changed in here. Whatever that was–" she waves her hand at the door, "–creeps me the hell out. Turn around so I don't scar you for life."

"Why? Still padding your bra with socks?"

She makes an insistent spinning gesture with her hand and Billy turns around and drops his pants without a second thought. "I've got bigger tits than you, doll. It's nothing I haven't seen before."

"But if I see your cock I'll never forgive you, dickhead."

"Better not look at my head then."

Heather snorts.

When Billy leaves this awful place behind he's going to do his best to convince her to come with him, he'll miss the hell out of her if she decides to stay.

In the end Billy does drive her home, if only because the image of Karen Wheeler crouched in the bushes out along the road somewhere pops into his head and won't leave him alone.

Figures Billy would cross the craziest bitch in all of Hawkins.

Just his luck.

*****

Karen is right back in her lounge chair by the time Billy arrives for his shift the next day. Her clothes are the same ones from the day before and Billy briefly imagines the woman laid out on the chair all night, motionless, waiting for Billy to return.

But she doesn't approach him, she never even says a word. She lies in her lounge, covered from head to toe, tucked into the shade of her umbrella and stares and stares and stares.

*****

Heather arrives at noon to take over for Adam and immediately zeroes in on Mrs Wheeler.

"Your biggest fan is back," she says in lieu of a greeting, as if Billy isn't very fucking aware of the fact and doing his best to ignore it. "She really can't take her eyes off of you, huh?"

Billy can't even muster the energy to find something to say to that. He'd slept like shit the night before, nightmares of Karen hunting him through the woods and hiding in bushes waking him up in a cold sweat. Every time he'd tried to fall back asleep he'd sworn he could hear something scuttling around outside his window, keeping him wide awake way into the early hours of the morning.

All of this because of private swimming lessons? Billy can't help but feel like he dodged a bullet, only to take a dive into a pool of quicksand.

"Look what I made," Heather singsongs and pulls out two cardboard squares chequered into a five by five grid and wiggles them under his nose, "Maybe this will cheer you up."

Billy grins at her and accepts his square. It's become a bit of a tradition on Friday shifts to play this game of theirs. Billy already has his pen out and ready to go, desperately grateful for the distraction.

For the rest of the afternoon they sit on opposite sides of the pool, Billy in the chair, Heather at the hole-in-the-wall front desk and play Hawkins Community Pool Bingo. Billy almost inhales his whistle when he reads the square written in Heather's neat, precise handwriting that says: 'Mr Klaufeld's balls slip out of his speedo again', grimaces at the 'kid vomits in the pool' square, hoping that one doesn't get crossed today even if it means winning. He outright scowls when, instead of a free space in the centre, it says 'Mrs Wheeler creeps on Billy'. Billy immediately crosses that one off the board and flips the bird across the pool, only to receive a jolly wave in return.

By closing time not a single kid has drowned, which is a miracle in and of itself with Billy distracted on two fronts not related to his job. This time, however, as Billy and Heather herd out the last of the stragglers, there is no sign of Mrs Wheeler inside the community pool centre or outside of it.

Billy doesn't know when she left, but a quick peek out into the parking lot confirms that the only car left is his own.

"Maybe she gave up," Heather says and spins the bundle of keys around her finger. Billy is about to open his mouth to answer her when he catches sight of movement out among the trees past the fence and freezes.

The last light of the day may be fading fast, but there's enough of it for Billy to see half of Karen Wheeler's face poking out from behind a tree and staring right at him.

Billy doesn't know why — it's an almost hilariously absurd situation to find himself in; a fully grown woman playing hide and seek with him like a toddler — but the sight of her face slowly disappearing back behind the trunk of the tree immediately has all the hairs on his body standing on end and tears springing to his eyes.

Something is wrong with this picture.

Something is very wrong with Karen Wheeler.

"Heather," he whispers, and the terror in his voice must be so clearly audible, because she immediately snaps around to look at him and then off in the direction he's facing.

"What is it?" She whispers back, "What did you see?"

"There's someone behind that tree."

Someone. 

They stand there, frozen, like two deer catching the scent of a predator on the wind and waiting to hear the snap of a twig.

A full minute ticks by. Only the faint sound of wind rustling the treetops and the occasional gurgle from the pool filter disrupts the absolute silence that falls over them.

Heather shifts on the spot.

"Just wait," he begs, voice shaky. Eyes watering from trying not to blink, still fixated on that tree, "I swear I'm not fucking around."

It's too much. This is too much.

Eventually Heather takes a step away from him and makes a shushing motion when he opens his mouth to protest. He tenses his body, thinking that she's going to leave him there all alone, but she keeps her eyes fixed on the tree Billy keeps looking at while she moves away, trying to get a view from a different angle.

That turns out to be a huge mistake.

Heather reaches the other end of the fence and just as she does, she chokes on a sudden inhale of surprise just as Mrs Wheeler comes sprinting out from behind the tree, heading straight for Billy.

She eats up the distance in a matter of seconds, but her face is so dreadfully blank that for a moment Billy doesn't react at all, the absolute absurdity of what he's witnessing freezing him to the spot once again.

She's so fast, is all he can think as she nears the patch of grass leading up to the pool area, but before she reaches it Heather grabs onto his hand and yanks him toward the gate.

"Come ON!" She screams, just as Mrs Wheeler reaches the fence. And starts scaling it like a goddamn spider.

With the image of that burned into his mind, the pair of them sprint to the gate and reach it just as a sickening crunch of meat and bones landing on concrete rings out across the pool area. Billy barely has time to process the image of Mrs Wheeler snapping her ankles back into place as Heather frantically flicks through the keys to lock the gate behind them, her hands shaking too violently to guide it once she finds it.

"C'mon, c'mon, come, ON!" she says between gritted teeth and lets out a cry of frustration before Billy takes over and jams the key in to the tiny opening and locks the gate with a click.

"Run!" Billy calls out and this time he's the one to pull Heather along into the parking lot.

The clinking of chain link fence straining under added weight sounds out for the second time, but Billy doesn't dare waste any time witnessing that unnatural spider scrawl again, just puts all of his focus into getting to the Camaro and locking the doors with a decisive thunk once they're both safely inside.

Billy doesn't hesitate, jamming the key into the ignition and revving the engine with a roar before he backs the car out of the space with a screech of tires. There is a blur of a body rushing past the passenger side window, landing with another sickening thud and Heather presses herself back over the centre console, keening in terror as Mrs Wheeler slowly gets back up, hair wild, skin bruised and bloody, her face still a blank slate as she turns to look in through the window at them both.

"Billy, GO!" Heather pleads and Billy steps on the gas and speeds the Camaro out of the parking lot.

In the rearview mirror, Billy watches as a human form steps out onto the road to watch them speed away for just a moment before slinking to the edge of the forest and melting back into the darkness.

Heather is slumped in the passenger seat, shivering and panting. Billy's own hands are steady only because they're white knuckling the steering wheel. After a moment of silence, she turns to look at him with an uncertain smile, voice just this side of shrill.

"I think maybe it's time to find a job at the mall."

"Yeah," Billy laughs shakily, "I heard Scoops Ahoy is hiring."

.

.

.

[the-great-papyru]

flowey’s a parallel for the player, but it’s kinda weird how you can make a parallel between him and the general fandom, too.

look at papyrus. he’s probably the biggest example. i would say that, generally, the fandom considers him a favorite.

besides the obvious, though, flowey just generally feels like a lot of the fandom did during the “overcorrecting” stage. sans? everyone likes him too much. he’s lazy. he’s not even that cool! trashbag. toriel? a mother? she’s awful, and a complete hypocrite! chara? they didn’t do anything wrong, they were a perfect kid and everyone just pushes any blame on them because they can’t accept responsibility! they were perfect!

i’m not saying these were everyone’s views in a certain period of time, but views tended to lean this way, and there are certainly people who did think this way (in my own experience, at least).

though, this begs the question: was flowey ever like the early fandom? did he admire sans? did he consider toriel a perfect mother? did he ever blame chara for getting him killed?

maybe. he had a reason to, for certain. the first two are definitely supported by evidence, but the last… we might never know.

[thedemoninme141]

Her Heartbeat, Chapter 7:Her Vulnerability

Summary: Wednesday blames you as the reason she let her guard down, for the vulnerability that came with you.

Warning: Light Angst. Wednesday is back. !Mentions of death of a parent! Slow Burn.

Chapter 1

Previous Chapter

Worklist.

Your heart raced as you grabbed your phone, frantically dialing your dad’s number. This wasn’t a “handle it yourself” kind of situation. You had nine high people on your hands, one of them being Wednesday Addams, and you knew things could go downhill fast.

"Dad.." you began, your voice shaky..

He definitely sensed the panic in your voice. “What happened? Everything alright?”

“Uh, not exactly,” you said, glancing nervously at the group. “So... Dad, do you remember how you always said if I ever needed you, no matter how stupid the reason, you’d come?”

Your dad paused, immediately suspicious. “Yeah? What did you do?”

“Okay, first of all, this is not my fault.” You shot a look toward Rick, who was now trying to chase his own shadow in circles, laughing like a maniac. “But... everyone here might be, uh, high. And Wednesday, well, she’s... Let’s just say I need help. Fast.”

Your dad’s voice came back with a groan. “Hey! You told me you guys were camping, what kind of camps do they even run?"

“We were camping, Dad! It’s an accident!” you snapped, frustration bubbling over. “Stop asking questions and just get here!”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there. What do I even bring to deal with this?” he asked,

You blinked, unsure how to answer. “Uh, a tranquilizer gun?”

Your dad chuckled. “I’ll figure it out. See you soon. Try to keep the casualties to a minimum.”

“Great,” you muttered. “Thanks, Dad. I’ll be here... herding drunk cats.”

As you hung up, you sighed in relief but immediately felt the weight of the situation crash back in.

“Y/n,”

You jumped, nearly dropping your phone. “What the—Wednesday! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“You need to lift the magic.”

“Magic? What magic?” You frowned, thrown off by the comment.

“The one that keeps making me think about you all the time. Like right now. Like when I sleep.” She leaned closer, "It makes me feel... weird. Like... like I should stab you. But I can’t. I try, but it doesn’t feel right. Anyone else, I’d stab them. Like... like Brooke.”

You tried to keep your expression neutral. “Okay, but let’s agree not to stab Brooke,” you said, gently taking her arm.

Just then you heard Alex shout from across the camp. “Oh, baby! You complete me!”

“Oh, for the love of—” you groaned, rushing over to see Alex, arms wrapped around a thick tree trunk, “Alex, what the hell are you doing?”

Alex, now fully invested in his "relationship" with the tree, was whispering sweet nothings into its bark. "You're so... strong. You never hurt me, even when I hit you. I think... I love you."

"Alex!" You groaned, "Stop groping the tree. It doesn’t love you back."

He glanced at you, wide-eyed and sincere. “She… she gets me. She understands me. I love her.”

You stared at him for a moment, wondering if you should laugh or cry. “Alex, it’s a tree.”

“Don’t insult her!” he cried dramatically, clutching the bark tighter. “She’s... she’s the love of my life.”

“Rick! Don’t get in the water!” you shouted as you caught sight of him staggering toward the lake.

Rick paused, looked back, and said, “But the water… it calls to me!”

“No! You’ll drown!” You sprinted over, grabbing his arm and yanking him back just in time. He stumbled but managed to stay upright, looking at you as if you’d just ruined his dreams.

“Aw, come on! I just wanted to see the dolphin.”

“It's a lake Rick! There are no dolphins! Stay away from the water!”

You sighed, glancing around the camp to see what fresh disaster awaited you. And then, your heart stopped.

"Wednesday, don’t stab Brooke!" you shouted, seeing Wednesday approaching Brooke with a knife in hand.

“Why not?” Wednesday replied, her voice dangerously calm. “She looks stab-worthy.”

For a second, you thought you were in the clear—until Wednesday moved behind Brooke and, with one swift motion, sliced off her ponytail.

Brooke just kept laughing. “Hey! Free haircut!”

“Wednesday, what the hell!" you cried.

She turned to you with an unsettling smirk, eyes still glazed but sharp. Without warning, she threw the knife at you. You yelped, dodging just in time as the blade embedded itself in the tree behind you. “Seriously?!”

She grinned, grabbing another knife from god knows where. “It’s a game, Y/n. You dodge, I throw.” You ducked again as the second knife sailed past your head. “How many knives do you even have?!” “Enough,” she said, her lips curling into a wicked smile. Before you could react, she pulled out another knife from her coat. “Okay, stop!” You ducked as the third knife soared past. “Are you done?” She tilted her head, looking thoughtful. “No.” And out came knife number four. You barely dodged it as it flew past your head and stabbed Alex's newlywed wife... "My love! Noooo" Alex cried holding onto the tree.

“You’re really good at dodging,” Wednesday mumbled, her words slurring together. “I might like that about you.”

You weren’t sure whether to be flattered or terrified.

“Wednesday! Are you done?”

She frowned, swaying on her feet. “I’m out of knives."

"Thank god," you muttered but before you could catch your breath you saw Mike, who was trying to roast marshmallows... without the stick. He held the marshmallows directly over the fire with his bare hands, completely unaware of the flames licking at his skin.

“Mike!” you ran over and pulled him away. “Are you trying to set yourself on fire?!”

He blinked at you in confusion. “I was just... hungry.”

“Use a stick next time!” you cried, handing him one.

You sighed as you glanced at Wednesday, who had wandered off again, staring at the moon like it had personally offended her.

You jogged over to her, grabbing her by the arm before she could do anything else drastic. “Wednesday, stay with me, okay? Get a hold of yourself, stop acting weird.”

“I’m not weird,” she muttered, looking up at the sky with unfocused eyes. “The moon is weird. Look at it... all smug up there... thinking it’s so important. I could take it down if I wanted to.”

“Sure, Wednesday,” you said, humoring her. “But let’s not fight the moon right now, okay?”

She blinked, swaying slightly. “Why not? It deserves it. It’s always watching... judging... Like Weems, Can we kill Weems when we go back?”

Rick was running back toward the lake again, you rubbed your temples. “Wednesday, please just sit down, we can kill Weems later, okay?.” you said before going for Rick.

“Rick! No!” You sprinted after him, pulling him away just before he could dive in.

“Man, you’re no fun!” Rick slurred, pouting like a child.

“Yeah, well, I’m trying to keep you all alive!”

Returning to Wednesday, you found her surprisingly obedient for once, sitting by the fire.

“You,” she muttered, pointing a finger at you again. “Why are you always fixing things? Its annoying.”

You sighed, catching your breath. “Trust me, I know.”

“But…” she paused, her brow furrowing in drunken confusion. “I also kind of like that you’re always… there.”

You raised an eyebrow at her, your heart doing a weird little flip despite the chaos. “Oh yeah? Well, I kind of like that you haven’t stabbed anyone yet.”

She smirked, getting up on her feet. “Give me some time.”

Just as you were about to respond, the distant ruffling from the woods.

Your dad had arrived, along with a few camp staff members who clearly had no idea what they were walking into.

“Okay,” your dad said, running a hand through his hair. “What the hell happened here?”

You crossed your arms, gesturing to the group. “This. This happened. Rick spiked the coffee. So… good luck. I’m getting Wednesday out of here. Give me your car keys.”

Your dad hesitated, his brows furrowing. "You don’t have a license yet, Y/n."

"I don’t care," you said firmly, glancing over at Wednesday, who was eyeing everyone with a dangerous gleam. "I need to get her out of here before she really does something."

He stared at you for a moment, then sighed, digging into his pocket and pulling out the car keys. "Here. And take this." He handed you a flashlight. "It’s dark out there."

"Thanks, Dad," you said, pocketing the keys and flashlight.

"Good luck," he called as you started to lead Wednesday away from the mess.

You led Wednesday through the dark jungle, her hand gripped tightly in yours, her steps unsteady but stubborn. Every twig that snapped had you jumping. “You’re scared,” Wednesday observed bluntly. You stiffened. “No, I’m not. I just don’t like… unexpected noises.” “You’re scared,” she repeated, her voice softer now, less mocking. “I can tell.” You sighed. “Okay, fine. Maybe a little. It’s dark and creepy" You walked in silence for a few moments, the jungle seeming to close in around you, the air thick and heavy, but what felt even more dense.. was Wednesday's proximity near you.

“I’m scared too.” her voice softer now, a hint of vulnerability creeping in.

You blinked, “What? You? Scared? Of what?” you asked, half expecting her to say something completely ridiculous, like hugs.

“I’m scared… of getting close to you.” Her words came out slowly, as if she were forcing herself to admit it.

That made you stop in your tracks. You turned to look at her, your heartbeat suddenly louder in your ears.

“I’m scared about that too,” you admitted, voice barely audible over the sounds of the jungle. “I’m scared for you. That you’ll get close to me, and it’ll be... selfish.”

“Selfish?” she echoed, her brow furrowing. “Why would it be selfish?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn't.. you didn't want to lose her... not yet.

Wednesday’s gaze bore into you, waiting for an answer, but you squeezed her hand lightly, leading her forward through the jungle.

"Let’s just get out of here," you murmured.

She didn’t press further, just followed your lead, her steps slow but steady, her grip firm in yours. After what felt like an eternity, you finally saw the road ahead, your dad’s car parked at the edge of the road. Relief washed over you as you reached it. You helped Wednesday into the passenger seat before climbing in behind the wheel. Your hands shook as you gripped the steering wheel.

There was no way you were driving two hours to Nevermore in this state. Your house was only half an hour away, and you were way too tired to push through for that long.

“I’m taking you to my place,” you said, glancing over at Wednesday. “It’s closer.” She blinked slowly, her head resting against the window. “I don’t care… as long as it’s quiet.” You started the car, pulling onto the road and heading toward home. The drive was mostly silent, save for the occasional comment from Wednesday. “You’re a terrible driver,” she mumbled at one point, her eyes half-closed. “Gee, thanks,” you muttered. “And why is your car so… bright?” “It’s a normal car, Wednesday.” “I prefer hearses.” You chuckled, feeling a strange warmth spread through your chest despite the exhaustion. Even drunk, even high, she was still Wednesday Addams.

After what felt like both an eternity and a blink, you finally pulled into your driveway. You hadn’t been gone long, just a week, but somehow it felt like you’d been away for months. You missed it. You helped Wednesday out of the car, guiding her toward the front door. She blinked at the house, her lips curling into a half-frown. “It’s… too clean.” You raised an eyebrow. “What?” “Where are the cobwebs? The dust? It’s too… colorful. It offends me.” You laughed softly, unlocking the door and stepping inside. “Sorry to disappoint. Maybe I can add some cobwebs for you later.” Wednesday grunted, following you in. “You should.” You led her upstairs to the bathroom, handing her a towel and some spare clothes—luckily, you had some black ones. No way were you risking putting her in anything with colours. That might be the last mistake you ever made. "Just… take a shower. I’ll be right outside if you need anything," you said, standing awkwardly by the door. There was a pause, and then the sound of water running. You heard her muttering something under her breath, but you didn’t ask what.

After a few minutes, she emerged, dressed in the black shirt and pants you’d given her. She still looked disheveled, her hair damp and wild.. and... human? "Better?" you asked. She nodded once, her eyes flicking over you. "Tolerable." "Great." You led her to your room, where you helped her onto your bed. "You can sleep here. I’ll take the chair." Wednesday stared at the bed with disdain. “It’s too colorful.” “Would you prefer I get you a coffin?” Her eyes lit up "You can?" “No, I’m fresh out of coffins, so you’re stuck with this.” You said, watching as she reluctantly climbed onto the bed. She lay back, eyeing the bright blankets suspiciously. "Sweet dreams Wends." "Bitter nightmares Y/n." You sat down in the chair, resting your head on the table, exhausted from the day. As your eyelids grew heavier, you couldn’t help but feel… content. Despite everything that happened, the chaos, the stress—it was nice. It was nice… with Wednesday.

Wednesday woke up with a pounding headache, one that reminded her of the few times she'd experienced her visions—but this one was worse. Her skull felt like it was splitting in two. She blinked slowly, squinting against the unfamiliar light filtering through the room. Her mind began to sort through fragments of memories. The camp… those insufferable therapy sessions… the lake… She sat up abruptly, clutching her head as the pain intensified.

Her eyes flicked around the room, landing on your slumped figure, asleep at the desk. You were hunched over, your head resting on your arms, your breathing slow and steady. For some reason, her mind didn’t leap to the worst-case scenarios like it usually did. Normally, she would have assumed she’d been kidnapped or poisoned or worse, but this time, her immediate reaction was different. You were there. And for some strange, infuriating reason, that put her mind somewhat at ease. She quickly squashed that feeling, she needed answers.

“Y/N.” You jolted upright, startled and confused, your eyes wide as you tried to get your bearings. “Wednesday?” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes, still half-asleep. “Where am I?” she asked, her voice sharper now. “And why do I feel like I’ve been run over by a freight train?” You stood, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly. “You’re at my house,” you said, a bit sheepish. “Uh, sorry about that. After everything that happened last night, I figured it was easier to bring you here instead of taking you all the way back to Nevermore.” Wednesday’s gaze narrowed. “And what, exactly, happened last night?” You grimaced. “It was Rick. He spiked the coffee, and… well, everyone got pretty messed up. You were high.”

A flicker of memory hit her like a punch to the gut. The coffee. Rick. Her emotions spilling out. She had been...drunk. And not just any kind of drunk—emotionally vulnerable drunk. A wave of nausea hit her. "I was what?"

"Yeah, you were... not yourself. And I had to, you know, keep you from stabbing people or throwing knives. At me, mostly." You gave her a nervous chuckle, trying to ease the tension. "So I took you home before you killed anyone."

Wednesday’s face darkened, her expression unreadable. She could vaguely remember the feel of the knife in her hand, the sheer frustration bubbling inside her, and then...she let her guard down. She had felt things—for you. Her hands tightened into fists.

"This was your fault," she said, her voice low, dangerous. “You. You're the reason this happened.”

You blinked in surprise, then frowned. “What? How is this my fault?”

“You.” Her eyes burned with anger, her lips curling into a scowl. “Yesterday, I let you in. And look where that got me—drunk, vulnerable, and completely out of control.”

Her words stung. You had never seen her so agitated, so vulnerable, and yet so defensive at the same time. Your heart sank a little, but you stepped closer to her. “Wednesday, it’s okay. I was there, wasn’t I? I’ll always be there if you need me.”

“That's not the point!” Wednesday snapped. “The point is that I’m never like this. I never allow myself to be anything other than in control. But you... you make me lose that control. You distract me. You’re the reason I wasn’t on guard, the reason I didn’t see it coming.”

For a moment, you were speechless. It wasn’t often that you saw Wednesday like this—raw, emotional, admitting that she wasn’t as impenetrable as she wanted to be. But instead of backing down, you felt your own frustration rising.

“So, what? You’re mad because I’m not a threat to you? Because I make you feel something?”

Her eyes flashed. “Yes!”

You stared at her, genuinely taken aback by her admission. “You’re blaming me for something you’re not used to dealing with that I had no control of.”

Wednesday’s jaw clenched, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "You had control, you entered my life. I never asked you to get close to me," she hissed.

You stared at her for a long moment, the weight of her words sinking in. You shook your head slowly. “You know what? Fine. Be mad. Blame me for all of it. Blame me because you’re scared to admit that you actually care about someone. Go ahead.”

Wednesday’s eyes flashed a bit of emotions, but you didn’t stop.

“Because I can’t do this,” you said, your voice laced with frustration. “I can't keep taking the fault just because you’re too stubborn to admit that maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to be alone all the time.”

“I am not alone,” Wednesday said coldly. “I choose this.”

You looked at her, and for a second, something shifted in your expression. Hurt, maybe. Or disappointment. “Fine. Then go. Be strong and alone, just like you always do.”

The words stung more than she cared to admit. She felt her anger surge again, but this time, there was something else beneath it—an ache she couldn’t name. Without another word, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, her mind racing.

Back in your room, you groaned, burying your face in your hands. The frustration, the anger—it was all swirling inside you like a storm. You hadn’t meant to be so harsh, but damn it, Wednesday knew how to push every button.

Still, you couldn’t just leave things like this. Not after everything that had happened.

With a resigned sigh, you stood up, running a hand through your hair as you headed out to find her.

Wednesday stood outside, her arms crossed tightly against her chest as the morning air bit at her skin. She stood rigid, her eyes scanning the unfamiliar surroundings. What part of Jericho is she even in?

She was stuck in this place—your place. A house that felt almost too normal for her liking, too...warm. It was unsettling. And yet, it wasn’t just the unfamiliarity of the setting that rattled her. It was you.

She wasn’t going back inside.

Her pride wouldn’t allow it. She could navigate the situation on her own—she didn’t need help. Wednesday Addams never needed help.

You were the one person she could blame for her current predicament. Yet, somehow, you were also the only person she found herself thinking about.

Her head was still pounding, the remnants of the drug-fueled haze clinging to her like a persistent shadow. It was disorienting and left her feeling unusually out of control.

And that—more than anything—infuriated her.

She wasn’t used to this. Losing control, feeling vulnerable, feeling anything.

It was your fault. You had wormed your way into her life, into her mind, and now, into her emotions. And for what? You were unpredictable, infuriatingly cheerful, and entirely too comfortable in her presence. No one had ever made her feel this conflicted before. And she hated it.

No, she hated you. Right?

What had she said last night? What had you seen? She remembered the rush of emotions flooding her mind, the dizzying sensation of being drunk—something she never allowed herself to be.

And somehow, you had been there, in the middle of it all. And you are still here now...

“Is it really that bad to let someone in, Wednesday?” She stiffened at the sound of your voice, not bothering to turn to face you.

“Yes,” she replied coldly, the answer immediate and sharp. “It would make me weak. Vulnerable.”

You sighed softly, taking a few slow steps toward her, careful not to intrude on her space but just close enough that she couldn’t ignore your presence.

“Vulnerability,” you mused, glancing down at your feet before looking back at her with a sad smile. “I wish I felt vulnerable sometimes. The vulnerability of a mother’s love."

Wednesday’s sharp gaze turned to you, a question forming in her eyes but remaining unspoken.

“My mother died giving birth to me,” you continued, "Talk about being born only to murder your mother,” you chuckled, though it wasn’t filled with your usual warmth. It was tinged with something deeper—pain.

That hit harder than she anticipated. Wednesday wasn’t one for empathy, but something about the way you said it, the way you tried to laugh off the tragedy, made something in her chest tighten. She wasn’t sure why, but the pain in your voice resonated with her.

“I watched as the others played with their mothers,” you continued, your eyes distant now, as if you were seeing something far away. “Dad tried, he really did. But he had work. The cars in his garage weren’t going to fix themselves.”

Wednesday stayed silent, her eyes locked on your profile. She could see the sadness in your eyes now, the weight of it pressing down on you like a dark cloud. You were trying to make a joke of it, trying to downplay the loss, but she could tell how much it still hurt you.

“Why am I telling you all this?” you asked, your voice softer now, more vulnerable than she had ever heard it. “Because, Wednesday... sometimes, the thing we think will make us weak or vulnerable... is actually the thing that’s missing. The thing that could make us whole.”

She remained silent, the words hanging in the air between you both. For the first time in a long time, Wednesday didn’t have a sharp retort, didn’t have some sarcastic comment to throw back at you. She just...stood there. Listening.

What the hell am I even doing?

Her mind raced, and she felt an uncomfortable knot forming in her stomach. You clearly had nothing to hide, no ulterior motives that she could detect. Maybe...maybe she could trust you. But trust was dangerous. She had built her life around never needing to trust anyone. Why should you be any different?

Still, something about your words lingered in her mind, gnawing at her resolve. Vulnerability wasn’t a weakness, you had said. It was the missing piece.

For a moment, she considered the possibility. Maybe, just maybe, letting you in didn’t mean losing control. Maybe it was something else entirely.

She clenched her jaw, finally turning to face you. “Where does this leave us?”

You met her gaze, your expression unreadable for a moment. Then, you gave a soft, almost tired smile.

“What even is this?” she asked, the words slipping out before she could stop them. It was a rare admission of uncertainty from her, and it made her feel exposed in a way she hated.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, shrugging slightly. “But does it really need to have a name? This...whatever this is...it can just be ‘this’ till we enjoy each other’s company.” You smirked, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, I clearly enjoy yours. I don’t know about you.”

Wednesday rolled her eyes, but there was no real malice in the gesture. “You aren’t entirely intolerable,” she muttered under her breath, her voice softer than usual.

You laughed at that, a genuine laugh that seemed to lift some of the tension between you. “High praise coming from you,” you teased.

She didn’t respond, but she didn’t need to. The fact that she hadn’t immediately insulted you or walked away was enough of a response.

Then, after a moment, you stretched and yawned, clearly still recovering from the night’s chaos. “Anyway,” you said, “I clearly need coffee. Preferably not spiked" You took a few steps forward, then paused, looking back over your shoulder at her. “You coming?”

She sighed, her expression impassive as she finally moved to follow you.

Whatever this was, it went deeper than that. The things she did for you, the things you made her feel...they weren’t just born from friendship. But no, this wasn’t something romantic either, at least not yet. She wasn’t sure what it was.

And maybe, just for now, that was okay.

This didn’t need a name.

[codename-adler]

when you cannot handle class discussion;

a non-aftg post still addressed to the aftg fandom because i know the aftg fam got me.

CW below: Harry Potter and JKR.

TERFs et al. not welcomed, fuck off.

one of my uni classes this semester is called Children's Literature in English. i will abstain from relating my whole life background, but here is the issue: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone is on the syllabus, due to be discussed for the next 2 weeks. other works on the program are: both Andersen's and Grimms' fairytales, Enid Blyton's The Twins at St. Clare's, The Catcher in the Rye, A Little Princess, Gene Luen Yang's American Born Chinese and Neil Gaiman's The Wolves in the Walls. (the latter is a whole other issue in itself that is not the point here)

the objective of the class is worded as followed by the professor in the syllabus:

This course will involve a critical study of children’s and young adult literature (in English) by analyzing historical and cultural connotations of childhood, adolescence, and related subjects. By analyzing a variety of texts students will explore several dimensions of children’s literature including children’s education, questions of race and identity, children’s understanding of abuse and trauma, young adult adventures and more. Literature in this course will range from the eighteenth-century concept of children’s texts, twentieth century popular school stories, as well as contemporary popular fiction including picture books and graphic novels. Students will be expected to critically engage with the texts and appreciate the sophisticated themes present in them. Children’s literature is often considered to be repositories of cultural values and deemed as agents of socialization—students will be encouraged to dissect these texts from their literary and political perspectives.

now. i've known about HP as assigned reading since the summer. initially i was very, thoroughly disappointed. and pissed. and helpless, because i did not know who the professor would be. therefore i had no clue as to how it would be handled, from what angle it would be approached. from the list of texts, i could assume a certain theme around school as a major setting for children's socialization and growth. fairytales is also always the starting point. but apart from that, no clue.

then the syllabus came, and it was grief all over again. because as you can see, nothing indicates that HP will be discussed with current events in mind. moreover, the thematic section under which it is to be read, in the syllabus, are: coming-of-age stories, adventure, YA fiction. so... nothing, you know. and so since August, i've been nursing this weird wound?

i'll admit, i was much, much, much more affected by the news than i ever thought i would. i haven't interacted with the texts and fandom for years. i actively avoid it. my ex-bestfriend who i've 'broken up' with in April was the only contact i had, because she is a die-hard fan that, although disagreeing with JKR, did not try to change the ways she engaged with the content. i rarely discussed HP with her, because i did not like it, and it was never as of major importance to me as it was to her; she has grown up with HP, whereas i only read the series around 14, never saw the movies in theatre, etc. that is not to say that i was not an ardent fan; i was immensely taken with the books, the world, that author herself. i was in awe of her genius. was.

all this to say, i have carefully curated what i'm exposed to and what i engage with. i've laid down pretty good boundaries. a little too good, perhaps, if my deep shock and perpetual grief are anything to go by. my surprise at my own feelings certainly does not help to lessen them and process them.

and now has come the time for discussion. i won't reread HP1, because i still have it pretty much memorized, and because i simply refuse to. i have so many other things to do and read and write for other classes and clubs, i cannot be arsed to give that book a single glance. but for the next 2 weeks, the next 6 hours of that class, everything will be HP and JKR. and i do not know how to handle it.

because. because the students of the class are, mostly, fans. still. and the professor too, i believe. i do not see a discussion on transphobia, homophobia, racism, antisemitism and misogyny in the cards. i'm really not getting the 'vibe' from the prof that there will be a portion reserved for those aspects. i hope i'm wrong. but i cannot prepare myself on hope.

just the discussion from some girls, during the break, about their favorite fanfics and eagerly and enthusiastically chatting about HP and the reboot and whatnot, i'm feeling awful. and, well, apart from me, these women are among the students that participate the most in discussion. (as it is, a discussion-/seminar- based course)

i understand, okay? i understand. that HP/JKR permanently changed the children's lit landscape and market. whether it was deserved/original or not, it remains that they have had a very important role in the history of kids' lit. it cannot be erased, though i wish it would. and that is, fine. nothing anyone can do about that. the mark (stain) is there to stay. i understand.

so i cannot change:

the syllabus

the professor

the students

history

i can only control the way i will handle this. i will try my very best not to engage in the discussion. though 15% of our final grade goes to participation, i have secured my full mark by now and know after HP i will pick up the work again. that is no concern to me. when i say try not to engage, i mean try not to waste energy and peace over whatever bs is bound to be said. i'm not afraid of outright far-right problematic 'opinions' or responding to them if be the case, but i doubt it will happen, which is a tiny bit of relief.

but i cannot skip those sessions. it remains that i must be present and actively listening. that is tiring and hurtful enough. and i do not know how to plan how to cope. i do have a dear friend i know i could talk to in person afterwards. and i have you guys.

so what i'm asking, after all this blah-blah, is advice, tips, ideas, to help me remain calm and well for the next 2 weeks suffering through the HP bs.

i sound dramatic af. i feel dramatic af. i don't understand why i am so affected. i don't even know for sure if the professor will skip over that crucial evil of JKR. i might be pleasantly surprised.

i'm happily open to provide any additional info if you have questions or need clarifications. i don't know how coherent i'm being. feeling real blurry rn.

yeah. that's all.

- Love, Adler xx

[drvirgus]

Colorblind

Baek Ha-rin X Fem! Reader

Description: You just got into Baekyeon highschool. What if Baek Ha-rin developes an obsession with you? Do you want to break the game? Do you fall in love with Ha-rin? What if soo-ji wants your help?

Warnings: Manipulation, Bullying, School violance, kys/kms jokes, Strong language, Insults, Harsh Words, Red flags, Morally grey,

Chapter: Intro (fully written)

Masterlist

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

"In school, you're on your own."

My eyes lifted from my phone to my slightly older sister, who was already looking at me with her somewhat monotonous gaze. I raised my eyebrows. "What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, my voice now a little quieter. My hand, still holding my phone, dropped onto my lap.

Do-ah sighed softly as she looked at me. "You're on your own if you mess up. I can't help you," she said, licking her lips briefly, avoiding my eyes, and taking a deep breath before looking at me again. "Just don't mess up. Don't trust anyone," she added, her voice lower as she glanced out of the moving car once again. Her lips pressed into a thin line, which only confused me more.

It didn't take long for the chauffeur to stop the car, and Do-ah opened the door. I opened my own door and got out of the car as well. Do-ah looked at me, visibly hesitant. "Be careful," she said before heading into the school. My eyes followed her until I could no longer see her.

An uneasy feeling began to form...

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

Sighing, I stared at my phone as I kept walking. It was already the third day at this school, and yet I kept getting lost. This time, I had ended up somewhere I had never seen before. My forehead creased as my eyebrows furrowed. A small scream reached my ears, instantly making me more alert.

My eyebrows raised as I saw the two women. One had a cigarette in her hand, while the other was holding her own hand. Both of them looked at me. If I remembered correctly, one of them was Baek Ha-rin, and the woman whose hair was falling into her face was Myung Ja-eun.

There was silence for a brief moment as my eyes kept darting between the two women. The smell of cigarette smoke hung around us as I took a few steps closer. Ha-rin began to laugh, looking down at Ja-eun. "You got backup?" she asked, blowing cigarette smoke directly into Ja-eun's face.

"N-No. I-I don't know her," Ja-eun stammered quietly, her voice shaky and soft. Her posture was closed off, almost scared. She was still holding her hand.

Ha-rin glanced at me, signaling for me to come closer. Her eyes stayed on me while she allowed Myung Ja-eun to slip away. My gaze followed the taller girl until she was out of sight, and then my attention shifted to Ha-rin, who stepped on my foot.

My eyebrows shot up as I glanced down at her foot on mine, then back up at her. I pulled my foot away, which made her chuckle a little. "Don't worry about the smoking. I won't say anything," I said with a smile. Ha-rin stopped grinning and looked at me. She tilted her head slightly.

"You think I care about that?" she scoffed. My eyes scanned her face as my mouth opened slightly. "You're pretty," I blurted out, which made Ha-rin freeze for a moment. Her forehead creased as she continued to study me. The cigarette in her hand was burning down on its own.

"I'm pretty?" Ha-rin repeated with a small grin. Her body was only inches away from mine. I kept looking at the beautiful woman in front of me and nodded with a smile. "Yeah," I replied honestly, making Ha-rin laugh a little. Her eyes wandered over my face as she began to hum softly.

"You're weird," she whispered, her eyes narrowing as her face came a little closer to mine. She stared directly into my eyes. My own eyes widened even more, and a blush crept up my face, unaware that Ha-rin was just trying to get a closer look, trying to read me.

But my mind was going crazy. All I could see was Ha-rin's face just inches from mine. Those cold, almost crazed, brown eyes. Her pink, somewhat thin but heart-shaped lips, her perfectly shaped eyebrows, her long lashes, her nose, the mole next to her eye, the mole on her nose. I noticed every little detail...

Pretty woman.

Pretty woman.

Pretty woman.

Pretty woman.

Ha-rin grinned as if she could read my thoughts, as if she knew exactly what her proximity was doing to me. Like... my lip began to tremble slightly.

Ha-rin scoffed mockingly and took a small step back. "What do you think about revenge?" she asked suddenly, throwing her cigarette on the ground and crushing it with her shoe. My cheeks were still slightly red as I tilted my head questioningly.

"Answer."

My eyebrows twitched upward. "Not much. I'm more of a 'let it go' person," I replied honestly, which didn't seem to sit well with the woman in front of me. Her eyes narrowed. "What if you can't let it go?" she asked, making me hum softly. My finger tapped thoughtfully on my chin. "I don't know. I've never felt the urge for revenge," I started quietly as I looked at her, a small smile on my face. "How about you focus on something else?" I suggested, tilting my head to the side. "I mean, you can't let it go if all you do is focus on revenge," I added.

Ha-rin stared at me for a while. A grin slowly spread across her face.

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

The days passed, and I spent most of my time with Ha-rin. A smile spread across my face as the rather friendly woman sat down beside me and rested her head on my shoulder. Her hand, as if naturally, settled on my thigh. "What's wrong? Tired?" I asked, slightly concerned. "Do you want a coffee? I could order one," I added as Ha-rin lifted her head from my shoulder and looked at me with a smile. However, her hand didn't move from my thigh.

"It's fine. Or do you want a coffee?" she asked, making me hum softly. A smile appeared on my face. "Only if you want one," I replied, which made Ha-rin chuckle a bit while rolling her eyes at the same time. I laughed a little and playfully slapped her arm, only to be met with shocked gasps around us.

Before I could ask anything or even turn around, chairs went flying to the floor. My eyes widened as I saw Kim Da-yeon planting her foot directly into the stomach of a fallen Myung Ja-eun, kicking her over and over again. Koo Seol-ha and Bang Woo-yi just laughed in the background, while everyone else looked away.

"Do you like that, you bitch? You filthy little slut? That's what you get for trying to avoid me, you whore," Da-yeon taunted, laughing as she continued to kick Ja-eun, who was desperately trying to shield herself with her arms.

In shock, I stood up. "Stop that!" I shouted, quickly making my way to the back of the classroom. Da-yeon turned to me, a manic grin on her face as she stared at me with wide eyes. "What do you want?" she sneered. "Shut up before I beat you too," Woo-yi chimed in. "It wouldn't even be against the rules since she's rankless," Woo-yi added with a mocking laugh.

Rankless?

"If you don't stop, I'm reporting this," I said more seriously now, my jaw tense as I glared at Da-yeon. I had a feeling she was the leader of their little bullying clique.

I gasped as Da-yeon suddenly grabbed me by the collar, raising her fist in the air. "You dirty littl—"

"Da-yeon," came Ha-rin's calm voice. Her eyes were locked intensely on Da-yeon. "That's against the rules," Do-ah added, her lips pressed tightly together as she gripped the book in her hand a little harder. Da-yeon hissed before shoving me away and sitting down at her desk like a sulking child, arms crossed.

Immediately, I rushed to Ja-eun, my face filled with concern as I helped her up and looked over her injuries.

How could someone do this? And right here in the classroom?

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

Now I understood...

My eyes widened as Do-ah stood in front of the class, everyone visibly tense. Do-ah drew a pyramid on the board and made sure I downloaded an app called "Pyramid Game." Apparently, there were four levels ranging from A to D, determined by votes. Each person had five votes, but you couldn't vote for anyone more than once, and you couldn't vote for yourself. Those in Rank A had certain privileges, and those in the lower ranks were not allowed to oppose those in Rank A.

But there was also the lowest rank—Rank F. That had always been Ja-eun, since she never participated in the game. My eyes narrowed slightly, but Ha-rin nudged me from beside me. "Don't worry. I'm sure you won't end up in Rank F," she whispered softly, flashing her usual friendly smile.

And she was right...

My eyes widened as I looked at the A rank displayed on my phone. My mouth hung open slightly as I glanced at Ha-rin, then back at my phone. A smile spread across my face. "See? I told you," Ha-rin said with a smirk, placing her hand on my knee and giving it a squeeze. But my smile faded when I saw Ja-eun's name marked with the F rank again.

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

Weeks passed, and I did everything I could to stop Da-yeon from continuing to bully and harass Ja-eun. Fortunately, I was often there when Da-yeon tried something. We even got a new student named Sung Soo-ji. She seemed to get along well with most of the class, although she kept her distance from Ja-eun.

But...

This shocked me more than anything.

My eyes widened in disbelief as I rushed toward Ha-rin, who had just pressed her cigarette into Ja-eun's hand, forcing a small scream out of the taller girl. With my mouth agape, I grabbed Ha-rin's wrist and immediately sent Ja-eun away. Ha-rin's eyes narrowed as she glared at me.

"Are you out of your mind?" I asked, louder and angrier than usual. I noticed Ha-rin glance at her wrist briefly before locking eyes with me. "What?" she responded indifferently. My eyes widened even more, and I released her wrist. My arm fell limp at my side.

"What?" I repeated, exasperated, letting out a frustrated breath. My brow furrowed. "You... you're just like Da-yeon," I said softly, disappointment and a strange sadness creeping into my voice.

Ha-rin rolled her eyes. "She deserves it. You don't know what she did to me," she hissed, her brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed. There was so much... hatred in her voice.

I shook my head. "Stop it, Ha-rin," I said quietly, almost pleading as I stepped closer. My hands instinctively reached for hers. "Please... stop."

Ha-rin scoffed. "Just because you don't like it? Who do you think you are?" she asked, her eyes fixed on me, her jaw visibly clenched.

"I thought I was your friend... apparently, I wasn't," I said, visibly hurt, my eyes fixed on our joined hands as I took a deep breath. I let go of her hands and turned away, ready to walk off.

"Don't move, or you'll end up in F."

My eyebrows shot up as I turned back to Ha-rin. "Then you'll end up just like Ja-eun," she added, a triumphant smirk forming on her lips as she saw me hesitate. I did hesitate, but only because I couldn't believe she'd actually said that.

I stared at Ha-rin, shaking my head in disappointment, before walking away.

"You'll regret this," she called after me.

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

And she was right.

I ended up in F...

Just like Soo-ji and Ja-eun.

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

Taglist: @yuyuy90@sixflame438@saysirhc@illithharmony@somedaydream@gayforalll@le3-r1n@yncoreee@wonyoungssi @awgeezwrld @peranoo

[lastoneout]

As someone who's curious about star trek: where would you recommend I start? It's a lil overwhelming, but yall seem to be having fun!

Oh lord that is the question isn't it. Honestly the real answer is anywhere, while all of the shows take place in the same universe aside from Picard and Lower Decks they don't really require a huge amount of knowledge about any other series(and hell if you don't mind not getting some references and enjoy raunchy comedy with a heart of gold shining within it Lower Decks is a really fun time), they really do all stand on their own and even ones that are prequels or continuations like Prodigy and Strange New Worlds are pretty self contained.

Personally though(and people will likely kill me for this but whatever) I started with the 2009 Star Trek film and I legit do think it does a really good job of getting a new audience the info they need on how the universe works and who some of the big characters in The Original Series are while also being fun and accessible and, crucially, not a huge time sink. I think a LOT of people get intimidated out of Trek because most of the shows are long as fuck and while I say this with love...not all of them hit the ground running. So yeah, it's snappy, it's exciting, it preserves whats important, and it's basically designed as an entry point, so it's worth a watch. And I'm just a huge sucker for Chris Pine, his Kirk is a bit more openly feral than the original and I honestly love that for him <3

However!! I would NOT recommend watching the other two films, Into Darkness and Beyond, right away. Star Trek '09 is essentially an AU of the Original Series so the story is unique, but Into Darkness is just a remix of The Wrath of Khan and NOT A GOOD ONE at that! Plus it's just...kinda dark and miserable and deviates heavily from the established feel of Star Trek that every other show managed to hold onto, which sucks. If you really wanna watch Beyond you can, and you genuinely should at some point regardless, it also is an original story that stands on it's own and to be honest is the best film of the trilogy and one of my favorite Star Trek anythings ever. It's got all the good Trek energy from the original shows while still keeping it's own identity and that's a joy to watch. So yeah, if you start with '09 I would recommend diving into a show before continuing. And maybe just not watching Into Darkness at all. It's bad.

Now, if you are a fan of animated shows for older kids like Avatar The Last Airbender, Star Trek Prodigy is genuinely a GREAT entry point. It is technically a sequel to Voyager but it is also it's own story with new main characters and it's legit meant as a way to get kids into Star Trek for the first time so it's very accessible while still being engaging and unique, and they explain stuff very clearly in a way that never feels patronizing or like it's talking down to the viewers. I legit got tear-y eyed watching the scene where they explain Starfleet just because I'm so glad it exists to welcom people in to a world I love so dearly. That and it's also SO good like I cannot stress enough this show fucking rules. It even has a nonbinary character in the main cast who I adore!! I love the animation and the whole cast and the story and just ough 100/10 for sure. I would even say for people who prefer ATLA style shows over big sci-fi/action films this is the better start than '09, so it's up to you.

Moving on, as much as I love it I'm not entirely sure if I'd recommend The Next Generation as a starting point, if only because the first two seasons are REALLY rough. Like they def have some good episodes, one of my faves of the whole series is in season 2, but it's clear the show needed a couple of seasons to figure itself out before it really took off. I personally did watch TNG after Star Trek '09, but I have a very high threshold for...weird and kinda bad sci-fi so idk, take that as you will. I was willing to buckle down and get through the weird because I knew how good it was going to get, but that's just me. However, I will say once TNG gets it's legs under it there is no looking back, it gets SO good that basically all Trek shows that came after it up until very recently have been living in it's shadow for better or worse. It does ofc have some issues with racism and misogyny and other isms that are clearly due to it coming out in the 80s, but it's also incredibly progressive for not only it's time but often times ours, and overall it's a phenomenal show that is absolutely worth watching and was a lot of people's introductions to Star Trek, so it's a decent start if you don't mind dealing with some weird energy at the start.

As for Voyager, I won't lie, I fucking love it! It's also fairly self-contained, it doesn't even take place in the same part of the universe as the rest of the shows aside from Prodigy and so you don't need a lot of series knowledge to follow it. It is one of the...campier shows, def gets weird as hell at some points but it's got this wonderful spirit at the core of it that imo it always seems to find it's way back to. It is sadly a product of it's time, however, and the first officer Chakotay, while certainly not the worst Native American rep I've seen, certainly isn't the best either. I've heard Prodigy does a very good job at correcting this, but Prodigy came out like 25 years after Voyager so yeah, it is something to keep in mind if that's gonna be a deal-breaker for you. The show does at least let him be a person outside of The Problematic Bit and I appreciate that, it gives him room to shine without the baggage of writers who have no clue what they're doing weighing him down and thus he's genuinely a really great character and probably one of the best first officers in all of Trek, and again I have seen FAR worse bad rep.

Aside from that while it does get weird in it's own bad sci-fi way, all of Trek is weird in that way sometimes, and anyone who says otherwise has no clue what they're talking about. I really enjoyed Voyager, I like it more than The Next Generation for sure and is a better jumping on point than it as well. It does reference a lot of stuff from TNG though and some characters do make a reappearance, but again it's really not that hard to get the gist as the show is more than willing to explain itself. Also it had the first female captain and truly Janeway is peak I would die for her, and the opening theme makes me feel shrimp emotions.

As much as I love Lower Decks I would not recommend it as a starter show, it's very referential and it has some Pretty Bad Episodes, the end of season 2 is dead to me, and it's also an adult comedy so if that's not your vibe you won't enjoy it. I do think it's a wonderful show but yeah, def targeted at adult fans who like some vulgarity(Trek isn't exactly a kids show but it does try to stay away from swearing and sex jokes and the like) and already enjoy Star Trek. Great show, got some rocky bits for sure, and maybe not the best start for someone new. Interestingly tho I do think out of the shows I've seen it does have the BEST first season of any Trek show. It really hits the ground running and the finale is like up there with Holes in terms of a perfectly tied together narrative. Def great to see!

As for the other shows....I sadly can't say because I haven't watched them yet. I know Deep Space Nine is regarded as one of the best Trek shows overall for too many reasons to list, The Original Series has been one of the longest lasting active fandoms in all of history and is beloved by most fans(I'm really excited to watch it) for both it's depth and it's campy nonsense as well as the insane gay energy going on between Kirk and Spock and you should watch it at some point, I hear Discovery had it's own rocky start but has had fans going to bat for it for years, and Enterprise has a rep for being mid but also to this day has fans who swear more people would love it if they were willing to give it a fair shot(plus Beyond pulls from it heavily which is awesome!), and while I've heard mixed things about Strange New Worlds it also seems to be a pretty well regarded entry point and a lot of people genuinely adore it, and it's nice to see some attention get paid to TOS inspired stuff rather than everything being oops all TNG for so long.

And Picard exists. For better or worse. Maybe worse I've heard. Im not interested in watching it because I genuinely do think Trek needs to get OUT of the shadow of TNG for it's own good at this point but that's just me. Def one that should be watched AFTER The Next Generation though as it's a direct sequel and you probably won't get anything that's going on without that context.

Anyway sorry for the essay it is now 3am and I am an idiot I just LOVE Star Trek more than I could possibly ever say and overall aside from Lower Decks and Picard(and Into Darkness I am sorry I truly hate that film to an perhaps unhealthy degree) you really cannot go wrong with your starter. Also I fully welcome anyone who has seen the other shows to chime in here! I wish I could speak to them but there really is so much Star Trek and only so many hours in a day. I hope this helped though, and I wish you luck!!

(Also sorry if I dissed on anyone's faves this is my opinion ofc everyone is going to like different things and I know plenty of people enjoy the stuff I can't stand. There's a show for everyone in here and we won't always agree, but overall I think it's best to just live and let live, especially given the rare but vocal assholes who swear anything made after DS9 is bad. They are idiots and I will attack them on sight.)

[pineapplehazard]

Just finished s7!!! Right on time✨

Now did I cry when Eddie said goodbye to Chris? Yes, yes I did.

But here's my thoughts about the last two episodes:

- Eddie Diaz : the whole thing with Kim was actually crazy of him, but her playing Shannon?? That man has a reason to act like a mad man but girl what are YOU doing?? That was a quick expedition out for Marisol too, Buck and him see to have a way to make girlfriends disappear this season.

- Chris Diaz : valid. I get why he thinks it's better for him to be away from his father for some time, it's probably a good thing actually for them to have space to breath and accept what happened. But the Diaz parents?? Ramon shit talking about Shannon every chances he's giving (he literally did it at her funeral that man has no shame), and Helena acting like she just won lottery, please at least ACT like you're not happy to take Chris from you son. Honestly if my own mom wasn't sitting right next to me I would have been insulting both of them so MUCH.

- Hen Wilson : I'm mad that they were all going to be happy and then that woman whose son hasn't been mentioned since like ep2? comes to take her revenge out of nowhere. When I saw Mara all closed on herself and quiet when Hen visited her that broke my heart😭 then at the end the emotional whiplash of Chris leaving, instantly followed by the Wilsons getting reunited with Mara, ouch (is it like 'a soul for a soul' but with family, like they CANNOT be happy at the same time??), also I know the plot was for Gerrard to come back, but I love Captain Wilson, and I wanted her to take after Bobby

- Chimney and Maddie: they're relatively absent from the final 2 eps so I don't have much to say, I loved Chimney calling Gerrard trash to his face, and I loved Maddie. I just love Maddie.

- Buck : such a good husband for his chaotic dating-the-doppelganger-of-his-deceased-ex husband... He was just so supportive and trying to help, gosh he's just so cute. But MORE IMPORTANTLY where's my angst?? You're telling me Bobby's in a coma, and all we got from Buck (who's basically his son) is one line of dialog AFTER we know Bobby's going to be alright? Sentence immediately followed by an awkward sex joke argh!! My favorite thing about 911 is Bobby and Buck's relationship and I don't know if it's just an impression but i feel like they barely had any interaction this season, I missed them, I need more of them!! Also all things considered Buck had quite a quiet and calm season, which does feel weird and not something that will stick

- Athena : she mentioned Emmett and I was just woop crying incoming! I'm not gonna dwell on the whole cartel thing, I'm sure people already express so many opinions on this, my real question is how many times can Athena break rules before getting a problem with the hierarchy? (ik she did in s1, but since then she's been pulling some sketchy moves from time to time with no problems afterwards). Also ik the house was going to burn but I hadn't thought of the implications, that they would loose all the memories and stuff and that's so sad, I totally get her panic about wanting to get everything that's on her phone to still have SOMETHING.

-Bobby : please bobby never leave the 118, maybe they could handle it but I couldn't, so please don't leave ever.

(-Tommy : whether you ship them or not, the last scene we got of them together (dinner at Buck's) should start an alarm in your brain about their future together, specially once you consider Gerrard's come back. Tommy literally says that Gerrard's the closest things he got to a father figure when he was in the 118, and that it didn't help him be a better person. (ik he's not saying he saw Gerrard the way Buck see Bobby but he still acknowledge that he saw him as a model of some sort), that's the online line 'acknowledging' Tommy's past actions, but also showing that he followed Gerrard's lead, and we know Buck is not going to appreciate Gerrard's way of leading and this definitely could be a big cause of conflict between Buck and Tommy...)

It feels weird to finally be up to date, and to know killer bees will attack LA in two days😭

I FORGOT RAVI!!

He was there for 3seconds but still, I was so happy seeing him, and ik so far it doesn't seem he'll be back in s8 for some time, so I'm devastated

[theshippirate22]

hi welcome to my essay

is this based solely in my insane brainrot? yeah probably. i’m doing it anyway

THE TIME TAYLOR SWIFT CONFIRMED ANDERPERRY LORE

This is Josh Charles

If you don’t know who he is, that’s cool. No one does. If you do know who he is, you’re probably gay, depressed, or both. Probably both.

And this is Josh Charles in 1989, in the critically acclaimed, cult classic film Dead Poets Society

Does he look familiar? Well, if you’re big on pop culture and/or a Swiftie, he should

Because THIS is Josh Charles in 2024

in Taylor Swift’s Fortnight music video

But who’s that standing next to him?

It’s Ethan Hawke

Who ALSO starred in Dead Poets Society (1989)

Kind of weird right? But whatever

UNTIL you remember that Fortnight is the first track off the latest Taylor Swift album

called The Tortured Poets Department

Now, the premise of the music video is that Taylor was in love with Post Malone’s character but only for a fortnight and losing him after loving him is what drove her into madness basically, so she’s been imprisoned in this asylum called The Tortured Poets Department where Josh Charles and Ethan Hawke are doctors that are experimenting on her to help her get over her love for Post Malone. Note that Post Malone is also there and is another one of the doctors.

Canonically in Dead Poets Soceity Josh Charles’ character Knox Overstreet is in sort of this awkward situationship with a girl named Chris Noel, who’s “practically engaged” to this idiot called Chet and it's assumed that after everything goes down at the end of the film, Knox stops pursuing her and Chris marries Chet to live out her horrific 1950's housewife prophecy.

Similarly, Ethan Hawke’s character, Todd Anderson, is in this tragic queer-coded homoerotic friendship with main protagonist Neil Perry (played by the lovely Robert Sean “Bobby” Leonard) that never manages to come to fruition because of Neil’s untimely death via suicide.

So back to Taylor. Obviously she's a patient in The Tortured Poets Department being treated for her hopeless love for Post Malone. She says she even took the "magical move-on drug" but "the effects were temporary," which implies that what Josh and Ethan are testing on her is this drug, this cure-all for lost romance, and they haven't quite figured it out.

Which makes perfect sense, when you think about what happened to Knox and Todd. They had these short-lived perfect loves with Chris and Neil respectively that ended before anything could ever happen. Love cut too short, just like Taylor and Post Malone. Which is wild when you realize that means TS basically just confirmed anderperry.

Not only this, but in the movie, the boys are encouraged to write and enjoy poetry thoroughly, and while all the boys take it to heart, Knox and Todd are the ones that are frequently seen actually writing poetry. Knox uses it to try and win Chris over, as well as working through his feelings for her, while Todd uses it as a guilty pleasure sort of thing that he's seemingly embarrassed by (which I could talk about for 25 pages but I'll spare you.)

So basically, just like Taylor, Knox and Todd are also tortured poets. Which means not only are they the doctors trying to come up for a cure for their own maladies, they're also patients in the Tortured Poets Department

THEY'RE JUST AS CRAZY AS TAYLOR.

If that seems too big a stretch, remember that Post Malone is there. From his bridge we see that he's going through the same thing as Taylor except on the opposite side, and he's also seen in the poetry room with Taylor, confirming that he himself is a poet as well, and in the lab he's also a doctor. So Josh and Ethan are patients just as much as Post Malone is, who's just as much as Taylor.

All four of them are locked in together, trying to get over these lost loves they are mourning.

By deliberately choosing not just Ethan Hawke to cameo, but also Josh Charles, and not say Dylan Kussman or Gale Hansen, or even MAIN STAR Bobby Leonard, it draws a direct parallel between Knox and Todd's characters, and therefore between Chris and Neil, and therefore, Taylor Swift has basically confirmed the ongoing implication that anderperry was the metaphor all along.

[solitarelee]

BEAR WITNESS TO THE UNDERWHELMING FRUITS OF MY JEWISH LABORS

THIS TOOK ME ALMOST TWO HOURS. WHY YOU ASK. Because I made everything from scratch. It was my first time making unleavened bread (easier than I thought) and baba ghanouj (exactly as difficult as I thought). It wasn't my first time cutting up a massive side of salmon, though. If you're wondering if I overcooked it; yeah sorry. ;-; I was cooking so many things simultaneously.

ANYWAY CHAG FUCKING SAMEACH THIS IS THE PASSOVER I DON'T STARVE!!!! THIS IS THE PASSOVER I HAVE MONEY FOR FOOD I CAN EAT!

[royalarchivist]

Jaiden: Cucurucho, you have a lot of power, right?

Cucurucho: ...I don't know. Maybe.

Roier: Ah... Yes, you know, don't act like a dumbass, you have it. You have it, man. Eh?

Jaiden: Is there a way for us to protect all the Eggs? Do you know? I don't want anything to happen to the Eggs that happened to Bobby.

Cucurucho: Ha ha ha

Roier: WHAT? [Smacks Cucurucho]

Jaiden: [Bops him] Headpats.

Cucurucho: Maybe.

Jaiden: [Continues to bop him] Headpats. C'mon, I can get it out of you! Headpats! Chin scratches! Belly rubs!

Roier: [Joins Jaiden in bopping Cucurucho, chuckling and laughs]

Jaiden: Yeah? He's comin' around!

[Jaiden and Roier both laugh]

[oceanwithouthermoon]

i posted abt this on my tiktok story but i need to rant more so im putting it here 😭😭 the way a lot of mikosai shippers (on tiktok, pinterest, reddit, etc) are is such a big reminder to me of why i hate the strictly romantic soulmates trope with every fiber of my being 😭😭😭 people who interpret soulmates as "that means theyre canonically together" regardless of how the characters actually feel about each other and if they ACTUALLY get together is so fucking gross to me oh my god its so fucking gross i hate forced romance so bad 😭😭 someone cant just say "hey, we're soulmates so you HAVE to date me and its literally weird and impossible for you to like anyone else because i said so!!" and also aiura WOULDNT do that anyway ???? HELLOOO???

you have no idea how many people ive seen call all saiki ships with anyone other than aiura "problematic ships" just because "theyre soulmates"

[possamble]

I absolutely really need to be writing anything but random ideas while I procrastinate and this is so awful rough bc I literally wrote it on my phone in one sitting while avoiding work but

Do you see my vision. Her Nosy Bitch Syndrome would actually be good for him when they've both chilled out a little in the postcanon.

[daily-ethoslab]

[461] rewatching terrafirmacraft and nothing will ever be funnier then what happened to nuggets #1