#I rent so i can't decorate in the same way

[heich0e]

the itadori house always smells faintly of clean laundry.

it's not because the two boys who live there are particularly diligent about staying on top of their housework—the towering pile of recyclables in the corner of the kitchen is proof enough of that—but it's because the first time yuuji had tried to do his own laundry, he used way too much detergent. the ensuing tsunami of soap suds had flooded nearly half-way across the tiny apartment—coating the floors, the baseboards, and anything else in its path, in a slippery (though pleasantly fragranced) froth that took DAYS for the two brothers to clean up. it must have sunk in to the floorboards, or there must still be traces of it lingering in nooks and crannies that they couldn't reach, because even now, years after the catastrophe, the scent still lingers.

even though the mere mention of the incident still makes a vein of irritation throb in sukuna's forehead, and makes yuuji hang his head in shame, you don't mind the smell. it's familiar after all these years. it reminds you of this place.

you burrow your face down into the cushion of the living room sofa. it's raining today, and a bit humid, so the scent of detergent is particularly strong.

you're nearly asleep when a voice interrupts your quiet moment of relaxation.

"i should start charging you rent, y'know."

you don't open your eyes, even once you hear the words that come from above you. even without looking, you can picture the scene: sukuna leaning over the back of the sofa that you're sprawled across, his weight resting on his elbows as he peers down at you with his usual scowl. it's not the same scowl he shows to everyone else—the one that makes people shrink back under his gaze—this is a softer version of the same expression, dulled by familiarity. if you were more optimistic you might even say it was blunted by affection.

"stop pretending to sleep, kid." you feel his hand grasp your hip, shaking you lightly. "i know you're faking."

you feel a smile threatening to pull at your lips so you turn your face towards the pillow—the one you bought for the sofa, since the itadori brothers' idea of home decor is limited to creased posters for old mafia movies nobody's ever heard of and women with their tits out taped to the wall—and you burrow down to hide your expression from view.

"you're such a nuisance," sukuna groans, and then you feel the sofa dip. you figure he's pulled himself over the back of it now, based on how you feel him kneeling overtop of you with your legs straddled between his own. you're on your belly, but you can feel him rest back on his haunches, trapping your feet underneath him as he sits. "can't you nap at your own house?"

"too tired," you finally rasp out, daring to peek at him over your shoulder.

"and i'm not?" he scoffs, lifting his hand and pushing his hair back from his face. he's still half-dressed in his work uniform—a pair of slacks from the security company he's been working at part-time for the past few weeks, and a white t-shirt that he usually wears underneath the short sleeved button down that matches the trousers. "i just worked a double—been up since 4."

he does look tired, now that you have the chance to look at him. his hair is a bit dishevelled and he's got dark circles under his eyes. sukuna always looks a bit exhausted—and has since grandpa passed away and he took on the responsibility of raising yuuji. but it's particularly noticeable right now.

"and i can't even come home and take a nap on my own couch because there's a freeloader here."

you bite the inside of your cheek, wiggling around a bit underneath him so you can lay on your back.

"charge me rent then," you parry back to his complaint, and he cocks an eyebrow at your challenge. "i want a bed though. s'only fair."

"we'll get bunkbeds for yuuji's room, then," sukuna quips.

"don't wanna bunk with yuuji," you counter again, "he snores."

sukuna pauses, staring down at you. he leans forward slowly, his hands pressing into the couch cushion on either side of your waist as he dips towards you. "only one other bedroom in this place, y'know—"

you do know. it's why you said it.

"—and i have no plans to give up my bed."

sukuna is close to you now. too close, in any other circumstance, but this is one entirely of your own creation. a circumstance that feels more like an inevitability than anything, given the tension that's been crackling between the two of you lately, ever since he rescued you that night at the bar.

"didn't ask you to give it up," you say quietly, your eyes flickering across his features until they eventually settle on his lips.

sukuna makes a little noise in the back of his throat, close to annoyance, but not quite. distinctly tortured in nature.

"you really, really are a nuisance, y'know that?"

his hands are on your hips now. not like when he'd shaken you awake—this touch is greedier, needier than that passing graze. his fingertips slip up underneath the hem of your shirt until they brush against your bare skin, and the contact makes your body flush with heat.

"yuuji's gonna be back from class soon," you murmur softly, your gaze flickering back up to sukuna's heavy-lidded eyes. his nose twitches a little in annoyance, knowing you're right.

sukuna backs away a little, his hands slipping back out from underneath your shirt.

you sit up and catch his wrist in your hand, and his eyes widen in surprise. your faces are close together now—so close you can smell the cinnamon gum on his breath. he stole a pack from you a few days ago, and clearly he's still chewing it.

you can't smell the laundry detergent anymore.

"i didn't tell you to stop," you remark lightly, leaning back so you're splayed out against the sofa once more. you stare up at him, waiting for him to process what you've said—watching the thoughts play out across his uncharacteristically shocked face. "i just meant that you should hurry up and do it already."

[randomshyperson]

Tennis Court - Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Pure Heroine Series Part 2

Summary: You and Wanda have been friends for years, but now, you're grown up. Nothing stays as it was. | Album Inspired series "Pure Heroine" by Lorde.

Warnings: Mutual Pining, friends to lovers, fluff, some typical trope angst, high school to college, making out, drinking, substance abuse, fighting, implied compulsory heterosexuality | Words: 1.535k

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | Pure Heroine Collection | Part One

-&-

The puff is interrupted by a deep laugh, and the sound echoes in the empty field. 

Wanda, who is wearing your oversized coat over her party dress, hands the cigarette back to you without stopping giggling, her cheeks still flushed from her failure to try, her humor, and the cold of the night. 

You think nothing has ever looked so beautiful.

"I told you it was harder than it looked." You comment as you accept the item, holding it between your fingers and biting your lip as you watch her fix her hair. She hums in agreement, her attention on the school building vibrating with colors, music, and decorations in the distance. You take another drag, and with the relaxing feeling the cigarette gives you, you push away the anxiety of being alone with Wanda in the stands, running away from your dates when you should be dancing at the prom and God knows what else. A part of your mind remembered Yelena's plans to lose her virginity to Kate Bishop in the back of the red pick-up truck, and you almost couldn't control the grimace as you imagined Wanda's date, golden boy Simon Williams, trying to do the same to her.

You pushed the thought away though; it had to mean something that Wanda had left the boy alone and run away from the party with you. 

She made a sound with her tongue on the roof of her mouth, as if she had remembered something, and turned a mischievous look to you. "I saw something in there." She starts, and you raise a curious eyebrow as you breathe the cigarette smoke away. "Natasha and Maria sneaking off to the locker rooms."

"No fucking way!" You exclaimed in a mixture of shock and excitement, receiving a giggle in return. You patted your pants in search of your cell phone, but without actually picking it up. " You should have taken a picture, Yelena will never believe it if I tell her! Fuck, I can't believe all this time, Maria was Nat's mystery girlfriend..."

But Wanda suddenly became strangely quiet, her smile leaving her lips. You noticed almost immediately and giggled nervously.

"Hm, what's wrong, princess?" You asked hesitantly, putting the cigarette away. You leaned over gently to play with her ear, tickling it gently until she broke into a giggle. A gesture you had made so many times that Wanda knew it by heart. 

She adjusted herself and put more distance between her thigh, barely covered by her short dress and the fabric of your rented suit pants. 

Wanda took a deep breath before answering. " I noticed that you and Yelena are hanging out a lot lately." She murmurs, and you are so surprised by the insinuation in her speech that you can't say anything at first. Your silence is taken advantage of by Wanda, who lets her anxiety surface. "And I was waiting for you to be ready to tell me, but all I can think about is that I tell you everything and that we're best friends, and I'd like to know if you have a new girlfriend who happens to be the sister of one of my oldest friends and-"

You break into a hearty laugh, and Wanda falls silent, her cheeks burning. The cigarette falls from your fingers, with the force of the laughter weakening your muscles for a moment. Wanda frowns, infuriated not only by the sound but by the way her body shudders and warms to the ridiculously attractive image of your laughing figure dressed in a loose tie and an improperly buttoned dress shirt.

"That was a good one, darling, for fuck's sake." You gradually calm down, wiping away tears of laughter with the back of your hand. Wanda looks away in an attempt to assuage her own feelings, and you calm down before clarifying. "You know Yelena is totally in love with Kate Bishop, right?"

You could easily add that you also only have eyes for a certain angry brunette, but just the possibility of telling Wanda how you felt made your heart miss every next beat.

She snorted in a mixture of embarrassment and disbelief, searching your face for all traces of honesty before looking away.

"I didn't." She mutters grumpily, crossing her arms. The pout that takes her lips makes you pause for a moment, needing a moment to resist the urge to kiss her now. "God, none of you tell me shit anymore!" Wanda suddenly burst out, standing up. 

She didn't move away completely, and you, still recovering from the sudden change in the conversation's mood, sat up straight with a little difficulty.

The girl's back was turned and the coat you'd lent her covered the edge of her dress, making her look like she wasn't wearing anything underneath. Your mind traveled back to Wanda at your house, wearing oversized T-shirts and looking absurdly beautiful in all these settings.

You cleared your throat, but your voice came out hoarse all the same.

"She confided in me. You know how Yelena is about these things." You justify, testing the waters. "Besides, it's not like Natasha tells me everything she tells you."

Wanda sighs, irritated, and still with her arms crossed, turns to you.

"But I tell you everything."

You sigh in defeat, shrugging. "Wanda, what's the big deal? It wasn't my secret to share. You don't have to make a scene."

"Oh, right, now I'm the one overreacting." She interrupts, her voice laced with irony and bitterness. You shut up in confusion, staring at the angry girl in front of you. "Sorry for not being as self-contained as your new best friend!"

"I-I... what the fuck?" You gasp, completely clueless as to what's going on, but you only have time to shield your face when the girl rips off the jacket you lent her and throws it at you.  As soon as Wanda mentions leaving, you get up. "Wait, what just happened? Are you really going to be mad at me for not gossiping about the secrets our friend told me?"

But Wanda turned around anyway. There was a different kind of anger burning inside her, blinding her to your apologies and any rationess, and making her unable not to imagine you and Yelena full of secrets and private confidences at all the times she witnessed you two giggling. 

"She's only your friend, clearly." She retorted, walking back to the party. "Besides, we've been out here long enough. We should get back to our boyfriends-"

But you hurried on and stood in her way. "For God's sake, don't ever call Samuel Wilson my boyfriend again, he'll never let this die." Despite the previous quarrel, your tone is humorous and accompanied by a half-hearted smile. "Come on, I don't want to... fight with you. Never, but especially not on our last night at school. Damn it, Wanda, we're traveling tomorrow, crossing the country together, and you... you really think I like Yelena more than I like you?"

She hesitates, shifting her feet. "I didn't say anything about liking it."

You chuckle, crossing your arms. "Oh, I must have imagined the whole last argument then." You retort in a provocative tone, and Wanda snorts, trying to hide her smile. In an act of courage, you lean over and kiss her cheek.

Her heart leaps in her chest, and she immediately looks at you, knowing that her cheeks are burning. 

"I don't care about anyone as much as I care about you, Wanda." You confess sincerely, looking her in the eyes. It takes Wanda by surprise, and the intensity of the moment leaves her a little breathless. 

Your face is close enough for her to count your freckles, and all she can remember is weeks ago on her sofa, when you two technically kissed and never spoke about it again, and Wanda came to believe that it was all a product of her imagination.

"I..."

"There you are!" The interruption made you and Wanda jump in fright, away from each other. 

To hell with prom dates.

Samuel arrived grinning with Simon, both of them half drunk it seemed. Maybe it was you and Wanda's fault for ordering drinks a few dozen times just to be alone, and the boys ended up having to consume the whole thing all by themselves. 

"What kind of partners runs away from dancing, girls?" Sam joked, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

Wanda hated the scene as much as she hated Simon's arm around her waist. You forced a smile, not at all discreetly elbowing Sam and making him let go with a laugh.

"Maybe they wanted a private party." Simon tries, but you snatch his beer away from his hand, taking it all in one gulp that draws another laugh from Wilson.

"Wow, someone is in the mood." He jokes, and you chuckle, handing the empty glass back to Simon only to grab Wanda's hand and pull her towards you.

"You guys are absolutely right." You mutter. "Come on, princess, let's dance a little." And Wanda giggled shyly, letting herself be dragged back to school.

None of you paid any attention to your peers' protests that this wasn't how it should be.

[thethirdromana]

So Mina later says:

"Lucy is to be married in the autumn, and she is already planning out her dresses and how her house is to be arranged. I sympathise with her, for I do the same, only Jonathan and I will start in life in a very simple way, and shall have to try to make both ends meet."

Could this indicate that Mina also has spent hours planning out dresses and arranging the house, and maybe likes that stuff (but cannot go as all out because she and Jonathan have to "start life in a very simple way")? Note I am not very good at English.

Yes, that's exactly it. She's making the same kind of plans about her future life as Lucy is, only on a much more modest scale.

That said, I'm inclined to read more differences into this. I picture Lucy - with a household income that could be in the region of £5,000 or more - doing this a bit like she's making a pinterest board. Her dresses (plural!) surely can't need all that much planning, and "how her house is to be arranged" is surely also a bit up in the air - is she planning on rearranging Ring? Are they going to rent a house in London, and if so, does this mean Lucy is mentally decorating and furnishing a house that doesn't yet exist?

Whereas at this point Mina anticipates living off a fraction of that income; Jonathan would be doing very well to be earning £300 annually at this point. Any planning she might be doing is surely of the more practical kind, of what kind of house they might be able to afford to rent and what that means for their grocery and clothing bills. Because Mina will have to quit her job on marriage (teachers weren't allowed to be married), her lifestyle isn't going to improve on marriage and she might even feel worse off in practice.

I find it quite sweet that Mina is happy to see their situations as alike at this point in time, given that there's such a gulf between them.

[luvlyycy]

as you can tell i am absolutely smitten w ulquiorra plspls write something w ulqui n a goth reader in a school or college party. they'd probably hang out together n end up getting drunk together ( drunk kissing!? )

ANYTHING FOR YEW SENNNN !!! ulqui × goth reader ... hahhh.. so good... i put grimmjow in this as a bystander (he dragged ulqui to his party) ANYWAY ENJOY <3

ulquiorra can confidently say — he hates parties. he dislikes the socializing aspect. doesn't enjoy being around people at all, if he had it his way, he'd never step foot in one of those functions ever again.

but when he has a dorm-mate like grimmjow, he doesn't have a choice.

this is one of those times when he doesn't have a choice. grimmjow's throwing a college campus party, and he's inviting basically everyone he knows— except his enemies obviously.

"not going."

grimmjow groans as he decorates the house he rented out for the party, "yeah, right. i'll fuckin' drag you there if i hafta." he huffs out, arm stretching upward to hook lights on something.

ulquiorra stares ahead for a moment, hands holding his phone, "okay." he simply deadpans.

maybe he should've put up more of a fight, or disagreed more because now he's at the party he said he didn't want to be at.

the music is loud, deafening even— there's girls n guys all socializing. ulquiorra honestly sticks out like a sore thumb— his hair sticks out, his eyeliner, the paleness of his skin— it's all different. sometimes somebody approaches him but never stay to talk because talking to him makes them feel awkward— he doesn't care. he wants them to leave him alone.

he's holding his fourth drink, or at least he believes it to be his fourth drink. he takes a big gulp from the can— it's cheap, he can tell. grimmjow would never spend lots of money on alcohol. he could never go to a party like this sober.

he realizes too late that he's off to get his fifth drink, his eyes are kind of blown out and he's lost sight of anybody he moderately knew— hands fumbling through the cooler as he grabs another can— feeling none, he groans. he's in the kitchen now, opening the fridge to grab one of the better drinks from grimmjow's stash. he shuts the fridge to see you behind it.

he gets a bit jumpscared but he doesn't show it.

you're just standing there, nobody else in here but you. well, and him.

"why are you standing there?" he asks, trying his hardest not to slur.

you glance at him, your body off balance, "nobody wants to talk to me." you mumble, tell-tale red cup in your hand. not that you wanted to talk to them.

he wants to know if thats juice or alcohol, chances are it's alcohol.

"why?"

you shrug, leaning against the side of the fridge, "no clue." you mutter, taking a sip of your drink.

ulquiorra never usually finds people attractive. he doesn't care for that sort of thing. maybe it's all the drinks, or maybe it's the lighting of the lights in the kitchen— he doesn't know but you look so.. good.

he's drinking in your outfit, the blacks adorning your skin like a black rose that had blessed the earth. your eyeliner is so beautiful— your lips are beautifully decorated. your shoes match perfectly to your outfit— it's intoxicating him like his own brand of nicotine.

"you're staring."

he doesn't bother saying sorry, just clicks open his drink in response— eyes still locked onto yours. he's never seen someone look like you.

you think the same about him. he has such a unique style to himself, you can't pinpoint it— but he's awfully handsome.

"wanna go sit down?" you ask.

"sure." he responds.

when you both walk back to the specific couch ulquiorra was on, he finally remembers you. remembers how he'd seen you before but never paid any attention— he's glad he didn't pay attention. he fears he'd be smitten like a dog.

you both get comfortable on the couch with your drinks in hand. you glance at him to allow yourself time to appreciate his looks once again. he feels your gaze.

"why haven't we ever talked before?" he asks, taking a long gulp of the fruit flavored drink he had chosen earlier.

"don't know. maybe we just never had the chance." you giggle out.

you guys have talked before, but not much. never hanging out, just talking in passing.

it's been a few hours, more drinks, more talking, less people. you assume the party will be ending soon. somehow you've gotten closer to ulquiorra— every now and then he'll ask your name, even though he already knows it. your thighs are touching as he leans closer to you, his face flushed due to the alcohol— you wonder what he's doing. you giggle and stare back at him, only for him to wrap an arm around your waist.

he finally says it, "i think you're... pretty." he slurs into the side of your cheek.

okay, he was an affectionate drunk.

you giggle again, "i am?" you watch as he nods.

he's breathing slowly but his heart is beating fast— it's been a long night, both of your makeup is ruined. his eyeliner smudged, yours too. somehow it captures your essence even more.

he wraps his hand around your wrist, sucking in a small breath— "can, can i kiss you?" he breathes out.

you lean closer to him, your red cup toppled over on the floor— "yes."

it's like time stops for him, your lips landing on his— electrifying him, you taste like the spiked fruit punch, and he can't help but groan. your arms hook around his body, lips messily against each other's but it's so good.

it's amazing, the buzz, his hands holding you and pulling you onto his lap— it's all so good.

he pulls away to breathe, "i. i want your phone number." he huffs out, kissing you again.

this time you pull away, "let's hang out when we're not drunk." he mumbles a quick 'okay' before you both start making out again.

.

.

.

grimmjow stands there awkwardly, "party's over, y'all been swapping spit for thirty minutes." he groans, wrapping his hand around your arm to pull you off. you groan in annoyance, ulquiorra following suit.

"can't we sleep here, grim?" you ask, batting your eyes at grimmjow— he groans loudly, throwing the keys at your face, "whatever, just don't fuck it up." he yawns as he walks out the door.

you giggle as ulquiorra stares at you, his pupils practically hearts— "are we sleeping on the couch?" he questions. you nod slowly, you can't remember if there was a bed in this house.

you lay on the fairly large couch and ulquiorra lays next to you, wrapping his fairly muscular arms around you. "wait," he removes his coat to then place it over both of you, "there.".

you stare at him, cuddling up to him, "goodnight, ulqui."

"goodnight."

[the-overreactress]

Fellow Appalachia enthusiast! Which Gilmore Girls characters would thrive in Appalachia and what would they love best about it?

I love this question!!! So glad to see there are other Appalachian enthusiasts out there in the ether.

Luke would easily be the one to LOVE living in Appalachia. His quiet, unassuming nature fits the region best, I think. He'd own a diner in a small Appalachian town, go fishing on his off time, and live a cabin in the woods. As someone from an Appalachian town comparable to Stars Hollow, I remember the grumpy diner owner there fondly. (Holler!! Now I want to write a Gilmore Girls/Appalachian AU titled Stars Holler). Luke would THRIVE in Appalachia.

Lorelai and Rory feel slightly too city girl to live in a holler, but they would like Roanoke or Ashveille, I think. They take an annual pilgramge to Dollywood and Pigeon Forge and make fun of tourists together. They'd share an undying obsession with Dolly Parton and her incredible park food (seriously, Dollywood has the best park food.) Lorelai would appreciate and participate in Appalachia's long hand-crafting and quilting cultures. Imagine if she owned an Inn there and sourced all of the decor, bedding, and art from local artisans. Same goes for Sookie and the food. (Sookie and Luke would make amazing biscuits, ham, and collard greens!!)

Rory would love Appalachia's literary history. We already know her appreciation for William Faulkner, Flannery O'Connor, Thomas Wolfe, etc. She'd appreciate the cultural landmarks of Appalachia (The AT, FoxFire, labor union history, etc.) more than the daily life there. I think it may bore her. This is why she'd like Asheville or Roanoke more than anywhere else. Both of those cities are full of artists and writers. Also, Roanoke is a local news haven.

I could only see Jess living there permanently in a city like Roanoke or Pittsburgh (which I'm choosing to include here because I feel sure he'd like it and its in PA). Places like Huntington, Morgantown, and Ashveille would remind him too much of Liz/TJ (hippy dippy druggy) for him to fully enjoy them. He would also be the type to visit Luke for a few days and revel in the quiet magnificence of the mountains. He reminds me a little of James Still, an Appalachian contemporary of the Beats. I could see him taking 6 months off from Truncheon, renting a cabin in the woods, and writing a book. Jess would appreciate the solitude of Appalachia the most. (I miss this aspect of it the most, myself.)

Characters who I think would love Appalachia: Lane (the live music), Richard (history buff, though he'd have a complex about it), Christopher (he'd love riding his motorcycle on the Blue Ridge Parkway), Sookie & Jackson (the agriculture and food ways), and really, the enitre Stars Hollow Gang, especially Taylor. Liz and TJ strike me as WV types, Huntington or Morgantown. They can't afford Asheville (trust me, no one can.)

Characters who I think would hate Appalachia: Logan, Paris, and Emily. Emily might enjoy the vineyards, musuems, and things specifically tailored to wealthy, Northeastern visitors. I can see her calling most of it "quaint." Logan and Paris would be the ones to make cruel incest jokes. Sorry to all you Logan and Paris lovers, but that's completely true.

I hope I didn't miss anyone! This was a great ask, thank you :D

[kining-the-evil]

Revenge

/Summary/: Tatum Riley was always a daddy's girl. She did everything with him, rode in his patrol car, movie nights every week, and when her parents separated she didn't even think about staying with her mom. Her dad was her whole life and when he was murdered she felt like she lost everything.

Tatum tried to move one. She goes out with Chad and moves to New York for college, but nothing feels the same. When she meets chads roommate Ethan, something is awakened in her and she decides there is only one thing that will let her move forward

An: this isn’t an x reader fic, it is my oc Tatum Riley. She’s Dewey and Gales daughter. If you don’t like OC’s don’t read it. This was also posted to my wattpad

Warnings: Cheating, murder, sex, death, psycho!OC , sort of Yandere!OC, Ethan x OC, ghostface!oc

"Where is he?”

I wasn't sure who I was asking as a crowd of people blocked my view of the hospital. I'd known my dad was trying to help Tara and her sister, but when I saw multiple police cars racing towards the hospital I got an awful feeling in my stomach.

I pushed past the few people on front of me until I was at the front of the crowd. Police were surrounding the entrance to the large building, and I could see Tara and Sam standing with aunt Sidney and my mom.

"Ma'am, you can't-" someone tried to stop me but I just shoved them roughly out of the way and started running towards them. Sidney was the first one to notice me.

"Tatum!" My mom turned when Sidney called my name and took a step towards me while Sam and Tara looked away.

"Where is he?" I demanded as I go to them, ignoring my mom and aunt as I looked at Tara and Sam. "He came here with you guys, where is he?"

"Tatum, sweetheart-" my mom reached out to touch me but I shrugged her hold off

"Where is he?!"

"We tried to stop him..." Sam finally said, and I felt my blood run cold. I happened to glance over at the entrance of the building as two paramedics were rolling out a body bag.

"Tatum, don't-" my mom started to say as she tried to grab me but I dodged her arms and started running towards them.

"Stop her!" Someone yelled but I wasn't sure who, I just kept running. When I got there one of the paramedics moved forwards and wrapped his arms around me to pull me away.

"No! Please! I need to see if it's him!" I cried as I tried to fight the man's hold on me. Tears were streaming down my face as I knew who was in the bag, but it didn't stop me from praying it was someone else. That my dad would walk out of the building in a second, hurt, but ultimately okay.

The two paramedics looked at each other before one reached up to unzip the bag slightly, and I froze when I saw the face staring up at me. His eyes were empty and face was blank, but it was him. More tears fell from my eyes as I just stood there and stared at him. After a moment the man's arms disappeared, and a woman's replaced them.

"Tatum..." My mom's voice spoke, and I just started crying harder. I cried because her arms felt wrong around me, she was never the one to comfort me. She wasn't the one who held me when I fell of my bike, or when watched a scary movie at a friends house and couldn't sleep because I was scared that night,or when a boy broke my heart. It was always my dad's, and he'd never hold me like that again. He was gone.

•••••••

My eyes snapped open as the dream, or memory, faded, and I started to wake up. I'd had that dream more times then I could count, so often that at this point I didn't cry when I woke anymore. I just accepted it and continued with my day.

As I laid in bed I glanced around the room. If you walked in you'd never think someone lived in the small one bedroom apartment. There were no decorations or photos besides the small photo of me and my dad on my nightstand. My clothes and belonging were still in the boxes I'd brought with me to New York almost a year ago. I never bother to unpack when my mom rented the place for me. She originally wanted me to have 'my own safe place' instead of living on campus, and the place is close to where she works, but I was sure she'd stop paying the bills on it after the fight we'd gotten into only a month after I moved in.

•••••••

"What the fuck is this?" My mom glanced up when she saw me storm into her home office, and she quickly stood up to greet me.

"What are you talking about? And watch your language." Normally I'd say something about being 18 and being able to say whatever the fuck I wanted, but I was to angry to care about that in the moment.

"This!" I yelled as I held my phone up to her. On it was an article I'd found of an interview she'd given only days ago. The title? 'Gale Weathers announces new book based on last year's murders.'

"That's an interview I did, what about it?"

"You're writing a book about the people who killed dad!"

"What about it? People want to know what happened, and at least I can provide the facts-"

"You don't know the facts! You weren't even there for most of it! You just showed up at the end to see all the drama-"

"I showed up because your dad told me your friends were being attacked and you weren't picking up my calls. I was worried about you." She tried to correct me but I just rolled my eyes. "I will be respectful of what happened and of your dad-"

"Like you were so respectful of this who died the first time." I snapped. "You were so respectful that you sold the book to be a movie, which is the only reason they killed dad. You're the reason my dads dead!"

My moms eyes widened at my words, but I didn't have it in me to care. These thoughts had been building in me for months and her agreeing to write a book on the murders was what broke the camel's back.

"I cared about your dad-"

"You never cared. You wrote awful things about him, caused multiple murders, and ultimately caused his death. I never understood how he forgave you the first time, and I won't forgive you this time."

"Tatum-"

"If you publish this book, I will never speak to you again."

"You're bluffing."

"Fucking try me."

•••••••

I reached out to the nightstand to grab my phone, checking my notifications. I had a few emails from school and the normal, everyday ones I get from my mom trying to check in on me that I never answer. And then a message from Chad.

Chad: hey, I heard about a party happening at some fraternity house. Wanna go?

Chad: everyone else is going. Even Tara

   I rolled my eyes slightly after reading the texts. I'd had a childhood crush on Chad since I was old enough to know what that meant, and after Liv had died we ended up getting together. Even though I'd known I was a sort of rebound or distraction from what happened, at the time I'd thought it would blossom into something more. Instead we were just emotionally distant partners that would go days without talking. We rarely hung out without other people, we never had sex anymore, we didn't even kiss when around each other. And I was 90% sure he had a thing for Tera. He probably invited her the moment he found out about the party while I was probably the last person he texted.

Tatum: sounds fun. What time?

   I set my phone to the side as I got up and headed for the shower to get ready for the day. I had a class in two hours I couldn't be late for. I stumbled into the bathroom and glanced in the mirror, my hair was slightly messy and some of my eyeliner had smudged since I didn't bother to take it off when I went to bed.

   I turned the shower on before stripping out of my pajama pants and t-shirt. It was a DEVO shirt I'd stolen from my dad at some point. Once it was off I looked down at the few scars along my abdomen. Two were from Amber a year ago when we got in a fight, one was from when my appendix burst, and the other was from when I was 6. One of the teens who attacked Woodsboro had broken into our house and somehow I ended up stabbed. I didn't know much about it because o was so young and my dad had begged me to not ask about the event, and I trusted him that I didn't need to know about it.

   I shook myself from my thoughts and got back to getting ready. I showered and got dressed, skipping breakfast and decided to just pick up a coffee when I got the school. Most of my day was uneventful, I sat through a music theory class and a history class on Fashion industry before I went to get lunch alone at a small cafe on campus. I probably could have texted Chad to get lunch together, but I could use the time to work on a design for class instead.

While I was busy sketching with my headphones in a hand waved in front of my face, making me sit back quickly and look up. I ended up seeing Ethan standing above me, an apologetic smile on his face.

"You scared me," I said as I pulled my headphones off, causing Ethan to laugh slightly.

"Sorry, I tried to get your attention but you couldn't hear me."

I nodded and just looked up at the boy, unsure of what to say. I didn't know Ethan all that well despite him being Chads roommate. He went to all the same parties as us and he was always there when I went to chads, but we never really talked one on one. He seemed nice enough, but I wasn't interested in really getting to know other people.

"So...can I help you?" I finally asked, fully aware of how rude it sounded. I just couldn't get myself to really care.

"Sorry, I'm probably bothering you. I just saw you sitting alone and thought I'd say hi. You're probably busy."

"Just...working on an assignment." I mumbled as I glanced down at the drawing. A small line went through the drawing from when I jerked when Ethan scared me.

"So... would you mind if I sat?" I glanced back up at Ethan at his request. It was then that I noticed he had one of the sandwiches from the cafe in his hand. "I'll be quiet and just work on my own homework. There's just no other tables." He motioned around to all the other tables which had groups of friends sitting at them. For a second I thought about turning him away, but I couldn't. He had the look of a lost puppy, and saying no would be the equivalent of kicking that puppy.

"Be my guest," I motioned to the table and he quickly sat down and pulled his computer out. We both worked for a bit, and thankfully Ethan kept his promise of staying quiet and just working the whole time.

"Going so soon?" Ethan asked when I started to pack my stuff up.

"I have one more class for the day." I quickly said as I slid my sketch book into my bag. I stood up and grabbed my garbage from the table.

"Are you going to the party tonight?"

I hesitated for a second. "Chad invited you?"

"Was he not supposed to?"

"No," I quickly said. "I just... yeah, I'm going." I finally said.

"I'll see you tonight then," Ethan smiled and I forced one back at him.

"See you then.”

•••••••••

I messed with my hair slightly as I looked in the camera of my phone. I was standing on a corner as I waited to meet up with everyone else.

"Hey!" I heard a yell and glanced up to see Chad, Tara, Mindy, Mindy's new girlfriend I hand learns the name of, and Ethan. I was almost shocked to not see Sam with them since she never let Tara out of her sight.

I slid my phone into my purse and forced a smile onto my face as I walked over to them. "Hi," I greeted as Chad wrapped an arm around my shoulders. I stiffened slightly at the uncommon position, a movement that should be second nature to a couple felt foreign with him.

"Good to see you," Chad smiled as he kissed the top of my head.

"You too," I smiled as I hugged him back before his hand slid from my shoulders to my hand. That was the extent of our interaction before we were walking to the party and Chad was talking to everyone else. I stayed quiet but kept our hands intertwined as we walked, any time he started to pull away I'd tighten my hand to keep him within arms length. I didn't go out much and I wasn't about to let go of my lifeline when I did.

   We walked about a mile to the frat house, and most of the party was a blur. I drank a bit but mainly just sat on a couch and watched the people around me. Chad was immediately off and socializing, and I remembered at one point he got pissy because I wouldn't be his partner for a drinking game. But by the end of the night the group of us ended up at Chad and Ethan's apartment.

   "Hey," Ethan sat down next to me on the couch. I had my arms crossed across my chest as I watched Chad with Tara. He was just standing with her and drinking, but the way they looked at each other pissed me off.

   "Hi." I mumbled, not looking at the man.

   "Did you have fun tonight?"

   "It was fine." I knew Ethan didn't deserve how I was talking to him, but at that moment I didn't really care. Truth was, I was tired. I was tired of being in a relationship that was going nowhere and watching Chads next relationship blossom in front of me.

   "I'm leaving." I mumbled as I stood up quickly and walked over to Chad. "I'm leaving," I repeated to my boyfriend.

   "Already?"

   "It's past midnight." Chad just looked at me for a moment.

   "Okay." I scoffed when he turned to talk to Tara again. "What?"

   "Most people's boyfriends would offer to walk their girlfriend home, or call her a car, or at least ask her to text him when she makes it home."

   "Fine, text me when you get home." Chad said, clearly annoyed.

   "Glad to see you worried about your girlfriend," I rolled my eyes while Chad let out a sigh.

"Are we really going to do this right now? You're ruining the vibe," he complained.

"I'm ruining the mood? You're the one who basically refused to spend any time with me all night!" I saw Tara cringe slightly at how loud I had become, and everyone else on the room had gone quiet. Even Mindy was silent as she watched me and her brother.

"I'd happily spend time with you if you weren't such a buzz kill. You just sit by yourself in the corner anytime we go anywhere and you just sit in your empty apartment alone. You used to be fun, but in the last year you've become awful to be around. I thought you were just getting over your dad but-"

"Don't!" I stepped close to Chad to point a finger in his face. "Don't way a word about my dad."

"It's been a year. I got over Liv, you have to get over your dad at some point."

We stood in silence for a moment before I felt tears start to well up in my eyes. "Fuck you chad." I spat before shoving him away and storming down the hall and to their bathroom.

By the time I slammed the door shut tears were streaming down my face. I was embarrassed and angry at Chad. I shouldn't have ever gone out tonight, I should have never agreed to go out with Chad in the first place. I slid down on the ground, leaning against the door and pulled my legs up to lay my head on as I cried.

I don't know how long I was there before someone was knocking on the door to the bathroom.

"Hold on!" I called out as I stood up, wiping at my face slightly. I was sure my makeup was a mess and I didn't feel like looking in the mirror before I opened the door. Ethan was standing in the other side.

"Sorry, you probably need in here." I mumbled as I started to walk past him, but he reached out to stop me.

"No, I- I was coming to check on you. You've been in here a while." He laughed awkwardly, prompting a small smile from me. "If it's any consolation, Chad was being a dick."

"Thanks, but you don't have to say that. I know you're friends with him." I mumbled. "Go, I probably looked like such a bitch to everyone."

"I thought you were right." Ethan shrugged. "Chad doesn't act like he's in a relationship with you, which is insane."

"Why? Cause I'm such a catch?" I joked, looking down at the ground. When I didn't hear anything from Ethan I glanced up to see him staring at me, a slight blush on his cheeks.

"I mean... yeah."

His words had a blush growing on my own face, and I wasn't really sure why. I really didn't know Ethan, he'd always just been Chads friend. Maybe it was just because it was attention from someone, maybe I just wanted some attention.

I took a small step towards Ethan, which prompted him to step towards me. "I don't think I've ever had someone call me a catch." I watched as a small smile grew on Ethan's face.

"Chad should be telling you regularly."

"Well, he's not. What are you gonna do about it?" I prompted, and after a second Ethan was leaning in to kiss me. I pushed my lips against his in what started as a gentle kiss, but I didn't want a gentle kiss. I stepped closer to Ethan and reached up to wrap my arms around his neck, one of my hands sinking into his curly hair. He reached out to wrap his arms around my hips, pulling me closer as he deepens the kiss. I opened my mouth to let his tongue into it as the kiss became sloppy.

"Which room is yours?" I asked as I pulled away slightly.

"Should we-"

"Which room is yours?" I asked again, a bit more pushy. Ethan looked at me for a second before nodding.

"Come on.”

••••••••••••

An- do not worry, the next chapter will have the smut in it.

[carlos-in-glasses]

Thank you for the tags @tellmegoodbye @alrightbuckaroo @thisbuildinghasfeelings @strandnreyes @catanisspicy @three-drink-amy @rmd-writes @welcometololaland 💚

I have another TK/Owen moment from Flashback Fic because it involves a certain moose that I told @goodways about in this ask and now, much like Carlos after he hooked up with TK, I can't get Monty Morgan out of my head.

Owen cups TK’s left heel in his palm and moves the flashlight over it again, inspecting close. “God. I see another piece of glass. You’ve stepped in who-knows-what. When was your last tetanus shot?”

TK, who can barely recall his own name, wails at his dad to take a chill pill, and he’s so ridiculous it actually makes Owen laugh.

“There’s my boy,” he says, “You’re going to be okay.”

Owen finishes patching up TK’s feet quietly and helps him hobble across the living space to his bedroom. TK hasn’t spent the night here since he moved into his own rented apartment, and it’s pretty much the same it’s been since his late-teens:

Off-white walls are decorated with posters of Nirvana, Death Cab, Eminem, Muse, and shirtless Brad Pitt.

A bright yellow comforter covers the bed in the corner, the foot of which meets the window. TK has often sat at the end of this bed, staring at the street below, people watching, alone but not lonely.

The pinewood desk is long-free of schoolwork, neat now with a mug from the Guggenheim that is full of colorful pens, and a few old books about photography, human biology, and twentieth-century American literature, with a battered copy of The Catcher in the Rye on top.

A rug of muted rainbow squares remains on the hardwood floor.

And here is his shelf of well-squeezed plushies.

Mr. Bear the polar bear, missing an eye.

Rory the lion, whose mane he trimmed short with the kitchen scissors.

Montgomery ‘Monty’ Morgan the Moose, a gift from Aunt Elinor, who moved to Montreal to work at a research station when TK was eight. She mailed the silky-soft, sweet-faced moose with floppy antlers to Gwyn – a lifelong lover of perplexingly cute giant creatures like moose, manatees, walrus, sloths. Gwyn named him Montgomery ‘Monty’ Morgan and gave him to TK; TK took Monty Morgan with him to Owen’s because he helped with his homesickness when he was away from her.

TK grabs Monty Morgan for something to press against his sore stomach and crashes onto his old bed, his face twisting. He’s felt so unwell since he had to stand up again. To Owen, his son might as well be the colicy baby he once was, the way he’d thrash and his face would contort with pain. The way his tongue would jut in and out of his mouth. His mouth is dark red today. The skin around his lips blotchy as if zits lie below the surface, ready to erupt. His tongue is cracked like sun-dried earth, and earthish in tone, just a hint of its former pinkness. Slowly – yet it's strikingly apparent – TK lies before his father and drains to gray.

Tags below (and open tag too!)

@louis-ii-reyes-strand @mikibwrites @wandering-night19 @noxsoulmate @theghostofashton @freneticfloetry @taralaurel @rosedavid @lemonlyman-dotcom @chicgeekgirl89 @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @liminalmemories21 @heartstringsduet @never-blooms @ladytessa74 @lightningboltreader @goodways @paperstorm @reyesstrand @bonheur-cafe @tailoredshirt - if you want to share/ haven't already! No pressure ever! I hope you're all having the best days!

❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜

[sirfrogsworth]

Looking Forward

If I trust my brother... and he did my dad's will properly... and set up my trust correctly... then I should be able to stay in the house for roughly 2 years.

If I trust my brother.

Then I can either sell the house and use that money for a small apartment or try to find a roommate situation to help me stay in the house a little longer. The nice thing about paying the mortgage is I can get most of that money back if I ever do sell the house. It's almost like a savings account with all my stuff inside.

Let's just hope the property value doesn't plummet for some reason. Though it has been around the same amount for many years.

I like living in my house. It's what I've known for 30 years. But being alone in the house is going to be a hard adjustment. After two years (or sooner) I may want to move near Katrina or Delling so I am closer to a support system. I wish we could all live next door to each other. Or live on a farm/ranch situation. And instead of chickens it is just a bunch of free range corgis.

I tried convincing Katrina to build a pool house, but she has a small backyard and no pool. HOWEVER... Apparently Florida has a lot of "mother-in-law suites." I had no idea that had a name, but I could be Katrina's mother-in-law. I have the skill set to guilt trip, make passive-aggressive comments, and judge how she raises her future kids. (And any other outdated stereotypes I've learned from 80s comedians.)

But I also like the idea of having a roommate. I could accommodate a single person or a small family. And I'd love to have an animal of some kind around. We have a huge fenced-in area left over from Otis.

I think I could offer someone a pretty sweet living situation. I have a full basement apartment that I reside in and so the entire upstairs is available for people to live in. I could charge cheaper rent than a cheap apartment in exchange for helping with chores that I struggle to do.

There is plenty of furniture and appliances ready to use. Full laundry room. I've got a really nice home theater in the living room so they can watch movies in style. I also have a few hundred TV series and several thousand movies on Plex. They get a full kitchen and bathroom to themselves. Plenty of garage space and a long driveway to park vehicles. They can have up to 5 rooms to do whatever in. They could do 3 bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen, and a small den area. My mom liked the den because she could watch her Judge Judy shows while my dad watched JAG in the living room.

If they don't have a family, they could convert 2 of the bedrooms into office space or craft rooms or S&M dungeons. They can decorate any way they'd like. But they have to keep the sex swing clean so I can use it. Not for sex--I just enjoy centripetal forces. And they'll have great privacy as I will be in the downstairs apartment. They'd only see me if I exit the house or if they invite me to dinner or movie night.

All they would have to pay is whatever I can't cover. I'd estimate in the $600-$800 range once the trust fund runs out. Plus the chores like cleaning and yard duty. That's a good deal, right?

The only downside is the house is in a deteriorating neighborhood. Businesses are closing and people are moving away. Our street is pretty isolated so there isn't much danger or crime. But we are adjacent to a dangerous neighborhood and the schools aren't great. That said, while there isn't much around here, in St. Louis you are always ~25 minutes from anything you need. The highway is literally down the street so driving to anywhere is fairly hassle free.

Also, I'd be happy to lend out the car for transport to a job. I'll only need it to get groceries every few weeks. They'd have to get added to my insurance and help with gas and maintenance.

Soooo... yeah, I think I have a lot to offer with my house.

They do have to be okay with my big subwoofer rattling things. The sound doesn't really travel through the floor, but the vibrations can. I can tone it down if they are sleeping though.

Oh! We also have a huge workshop on the property too. It could be used for working on cars or woodworking or an art space. It has electricity, lighting, heating and is perfect for anything that requires getting dirty. If that makes sense.

One idea I have been considering is seeking out an unhoused queer individual who was kicked out or is struggling to afford a decent place. If their parents don't want them, maybe I could provide a safe place. Things are so scary for LGBTQ+ folks right now. Especially in Missouri. St. Louis is a pretty blue city, but Missouri is a blood red state. If I could do something small for someone like that, I would be happy to help. Could be mutually beneficial.

So those are all of my thoughts and ideas as of now.

Again, if I trust my brother, I should have a decent amount of time to figure things out.

If things go sideways, I might be screwed.

So far he seems to be doing all the things he should be doing to get me sorted.

I'm going to choose to trust him.

With my life.

Oof.

[gracev0609]

Love to Keep Me Warm

Josh X Danny X Reader

This is a direct continuation of Giving & Receiving, please read that first! All fics can be found on my pinned post.

This is my first fluff only fic! I love my little throuple, so here's a Christmas edition ❤️🎄❤️

Word Count: 2k+

A huge shout out to @lipstickitty for helping me with all my little ramblings and ideas for them🫶

Danny's hand was resting on your thigh as he navigated your family through the streets of Frankenmuth, on the way back to the Kiszka household for the second time this holiday season. Josh poked his head through the seats as he sat in the back,” You sure you're okay baby? You feel okay?”

You reached your hand to cup his face and your thumb stroked his cheek softly as he nuzzled into your touch.

“I'm fine Josh, a little tired from traveling, but we're okay.”

Your manicured fingers settled on your stomach cradling the tiny pea sized baby inside of you.

Danny's fingers tightened on your thigh,” Promise you'll tell us if you're not okay. We're here for you baby. We're telling our families tonight when they're all together and I know they'd do anything for you.”

“You guys are fretting for nothing. But I promise. I'm excited to tell everyone,” a laugh escaped your lips,” Jake has been texting me for days that ‘we need to tell them soon because I can't keep it a secret much longer ‘“

Danny pulled the rental truck, similar to the one you rented last time, into the driveway. Their home looked the same except for a few extra Christmas decorations on the porch. Numerous other vehicles were parked in the driveway.

Danny shifted the vehicle in park,” My parents are already here.”

You all exited the truck and started to pull your luggage out. A black BMW pulled into the driveway behind them and Jake hopped out of the driver's seat. He popped the trunk and grabbed a few bags of groceries. He quickly joined your group and sat the bags down at his feet, his arms wrapping you up in a hug,” I don't care what you say, you're not allowed to carry anything.”

“But the doctor-”

“I don't care who said it's okay, Uncle Jake says you can't.”

He releases you from his hold and greets his brother and Danny with a hug.

“Merry Christmas boys, are you excited? I'm so excited.”

Josh beams and starts loading your bags onto his shoulder,” I think our parents are going to flip. First grandbaby? That we know of at least, Sam's a little loosey goosey.”

Danny snorts and starts walking up the snow cleared pathway. The three of you follow him up the wooden stairs, ice melt crackling underneath your feet. You take one more deep breath before entering the warm household, one that you're sure you'll visit for the rest of time.

“Mom, I'm back, and I found Y/N and some knuckleheads!” Jake called out into the foyer.

“Jake what the fuck?!” Josh jested.

Jake keeps walking into the house, forgoing taking his boots off, to his mother's dismay.

The three of you unzip your winter boots and leave them at the door. Danny leans down and kisses Josh's hair,” Come on knucklehead, let's go say hi.”

Josh quickly turns around to face Danny, scoffing.

You lead your boys into the house, following the voices of Danny and Josh's moms.

“Y/N! Honey, how do you look more beautiful this visit than the last? We missed you sweetie.” Karen stands from the table and envelopes you in a hug.

“Our boys have been treating you well, correct?” Lori inquires, taking you into her grasp and giving you an equally tight hug.

Muffled into her shoulder you respond,” They've been treating me very well, don't worry.”

Karen went to the threshold of the living and scolded her husband and Danny's father for not immediately getting up and greeting your group's arrival. Moments later the men arrived in the kitchen, first hugging you and then their sons.

After pleasantries were exchanged with parents and siblings Danny, Josh and Jake took your luggage down to the basement, back to where you slept before on the pull out couch.

The boys were setting up the bedding when you overheard Danny muttering about needing more pillows for you.

“We can grab the extras off of my old bed,” Josh said, spreading out the comforter flat.

“Let me go get them.” Jake stated, turning on his heel about to retrieve the extra pillows.

You held your hand out to stop him,” Hold up guys. I know this is coming from a place of love , but you can't be treating me like fine China! I'm pregnant, I'm not broken! Please.. just please take a chill pill.”

Jake takes his palm and rubs the back of his neck,” I'm sorry Y/N, I did come on kinda strong.”

“It's alright. I just need you all to understand that I can do things for myself. At least right now, maybe when it's like I have a watermelon strapped to my body I'll want to be doted on.”

A small chuckle leaves your lips,” But for the record, I would very much enjoy extra pillows, my back felt like shit sleeping on that mattress last time.”

A smile lit up on Jake's face as he gave you a silly military salute, before heading up the staircase,” On it, boss!”

A few minutes later Jake comes back with a stack of pillows, he hands them to Josh and Danny so they can put them on the bed.

“Jake… I feel like that's more than what was just on Josh's bed.” You pointed out with a smile.

He shot you a wink before heading back up the stairs, calling out, ”Just a few!”

Turning your attention back to your loves you ask,” Who do you think is going to cry when we tell them?”

Danny points a finger at Josh,” Your mom, one hundred percent, she cries at everything. His highschool musical performances, she cried. Our first arena show, she cried.”

Josh holds his hands up in surrender, “You're right! She did cry, at every one.” He looks at you, “ I kind of want to tell them now. I'm so excited and jittery, I think it would be good to tell them sooner than later.”

You mulled it over in your head, what was the harm in telling them before dinner versus after like you planned. You looked at your beautiful partners with beaming smiles on their faces, anxiously awaiting your answer.

“Yeah… let's do it. You guys can't keep a secret anyway!”

You stand up and head towards the landing of the stairs, Josh following behind you.

“Hey, come here for a second.” Danny calls the both of you back over to him.

He pulls you and Josh into his chest into a tight embrace and presses his lips to each of yours, “ I love you. I love our family. I'm so ecstatic to go on this journey of life with the both of you, I've found my home. I can't wait to watch you be a mom, and I can't wait to watch you be a dad alongside me. We have so much love surrounding us.”

You press your body into his, resting your head on his taut chest, “I love you Danny.”

Josh breaks the embrace, wiping his eyes with the heels of his palms, “Fuck! Yeah, let's go do this.”

The three of you worked your way into the living room where everyone was gathered. The Christmas tree was in the corner, tucked under the stairs. White lights glowing, ornaments from years gone by hung on each branch. Some beautiful and antique, some made by children's hands. Presents were neatly tucked underneath, glimmering in red and gold wrapping paper. There was a soft lit pine garland strung on the tv stand, and vintage lit ceramic Christmas trees on the end tables. The room was warm and comforting, mirroring the family's auras.

You sat yourself down on the couch in between Sam and Jake as Josh and Danny caught up and made small talk with everyone else.

Josh grabbed everyone's attention, waving his hands around,”Okay! Okay! I want to say that I love you all dearly. We love you all dearly. And I know that it's early, but you all know I can't keep my mouth shut for shit. But, we wanted to announce to you all that our lovely Y/N is pregnant.”

He grabs your hands and hoists you off the couch, into his arms and places a fat kiss on your lips.

Karen grips Lori's hands in her own,” We're going to be grandmas? This is such a happy day!”

Excited chatter and congratulations are thrown across the room.

You look around the room, their mom's are excitedly planning the future, their dad clink their whiskey glasses and take a sip. Beaming smiles on their sisters faces, mirroring Jake's. Sam rushes off the couch and envelopes the three of you in his long arms. With tears streaming down his face he exclaims “ I'm gonna be Uncle Sam, I'm so happy for you! My favorite people! I love you all!”

Jake stands and joins your circle, giving each of you a hug, “Truly, I'm so excited for you.”

After a pause Sam speaks, waving his pointer finger between Josh and Danny, “ So, how do you know which one of you…. Ya know…”

Jake smacks the back of Sam's head, “ You don't fucker. I can't believe you asked them that.” He squeezes the bridge of his nose.

Sam pushes back, “ Well, we were all thinking it okay? Sheesh, sorry.”

Danny laughs awkwardly and goes to lead Sam away with a promise of cocktails.

Danny's mom comes over to you, gushing about how she could tell that you had a certain glow about you, “ How far along are you honey?”

“ Josh wasn't kidding about it being early, I had my first doctor's visit a few days ago and the doctor said I was looking about 8 weeks, give or take, but we'll know for sure once the baby gets a bit bigger.”

Her face softens immediately,” Awe! Still a teeny tiny thing!”

🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄

Dinner went by quickly, plenty of food, drinks and laughter shared. A few more questions were asked from the women who had been in your place before.

Josh's mom grabbed your hand and spoke lovingly,” I want you to know sweetie that you can ask us anything, day or night you can call us okay. It takes a village to raise a child.”

The night progressed and drinks were flowing, they had so much to celebrate. You were getting sleepy and wrapped yourself in the blankets on the loveseat when a drunken Sam and Jake bustled over to you.

Jake slid in next to you with his phone unlocked, waving it around, “ Hey hot stuff, look what we ordered on Amazon.” Sam leaned over the back of the couch overtop of you, grabbing Jake's phone from his hand to show you, “ Look at all the baby stuffs being sent to your house!”

Your eyes welled with tears of joy as you looked at the confirmation order, onesies, bottles, diapers, and stuffed animals all being sent to your house.

“ You guys! You're too sweet, you're going to be the best uncles. We're so lucky to be a part of your family.”

Josh sauntered up to your group,” Hey, you're crying?” He looked to his brothers,” What did you fuckers do to make her cry?!”

You placed your hand firmly on his stomach in front of you,” Joshy, they're happy tears I promise! They're being sweet, they ordered a bunch of baby things for us.”

You felt all the tension relax under your palm,” Oh. Shit, thank you.” He let out a boyish giggle.

They left you to relax on the couch and you started to reflect on the day. You were so thankful that everyone was so receptive to your relationship. They loved you and your partners unconditionally, they would love your baby just the same. You couldn't wait until next Christmas when your baby would be here basking in the love your family provided.

You saw a flash come from the corner of the room and saw Sam taking pictures on a Polaroid camera.

Sam waved you over, “ Y/N! Come here babe! I need a picture of you, Danny and Josh together in front of the Christmas tree!”

You stood in between your loves smiling at Sam's camera.

“ Okay one more!” Sam said, waving the fresh Polaroid around.

This time Danny dropped to one knee beside you and gently lifted up your sweater to expose your stomach. He pressed his lips to your warm skin on your tummy as Josh stood on your other side and pressed his lips to your cheek. You could help the giggle that bursted out of you as Sam snapped the picture.

“ That's the one! That one is going on everyone's fridge!”

Fin.

Next Story

[debsarcasticplight]

Starlight

The Impala rumbles to a halt outside The Starlight Motel, its tired engine sighing in relief. Dean leans back in the worn leather seat, rubbing his eyes, exhausted. The road has started to take its toll on Dean despite him having made this trip countless times before. After nearly a decade, his journey here and back again has become the only ritual that keeps him connected to his past and the one person still holding a piece of his heart.

Stepping out of the car, Dean can't help but glance around, his eyes scanning the familiar surroundings. The Starlight Motel hasn't changed much over the years. It’s still the same dingy, run-down place where he and Cas first met, spent countless hours as kids, and dreamt about escaping from someday.

Dean makes his way to the front desk, the bell above the door jingling softly as he pushes it open. The desk clerk, a tired-looking woman with bleach-blonde hair and bright red lipstick, removes an unlit cigarette from her lips before offering him a half-hearted smile. 

"Can I help you?" she asks, her voice heavy with boredom.

"Yeah," Dean replies, pulling out his wallet and tossing a few crumpled twenties onto the counter. 

"I need a room for a couple of nights."

"Okay, you're in #12," The clerk says, taking the money and handing Dean a key with very little investment.

Dean nods and heads for the lobby, the worn carpet muffling his footsteps. It's early November, but there are still a few flimsy-looking Halloween decorations strewn around in the corners of the motel. Just another subtle reminder that time keeps marching, regardless of whether anyone’s ready to start letting go. Room 12 is just like every other room in the place—barely functional, but it has a bed and a shower, which is all he really needs.

Dean tosses his duffel bag onto the bed and lets out a long sigh. He knows he has to check on Cas next. Doing so has become a routine for him, a way to ease his conscience, even though Dean’s never sure what he will find. Dean’s been renting Cas a room at the Starlight Motel year-round since he left, figuring it's the least he can do for the guy. Cas has a tendency to move around a lot, seeking out the sketchiest people while chasing his next high. At least this way, Dean can try to help his friend retain some semblance of home, even if it's back here, of all places.

Pulling out his phone, Dean scrolls until he finds his favorite picture: two young boys, their eyes wide with anticipation and ready for whatever life has in store. Although the original photo was taken many years ago, Dean can't help keeping a digital copy purely for sentimental value.

Holding a breath, Dean taps "Call" as a pit of concern opens up beneath his ribs. He’s got six different phone numbers for Cas currently, and it's always a gamble whether any of them will even go through.

"Hello?" Cas's voice crackles over the line, already sounding very far away.

"Hey, Cas," Dean says, trying to keep his voice casual. 

"It's me."

There is a long pause before Cas replies.

"Back again so soon, Dean?"

Dean runs a hand through his disheveled hair, trying to steady his breathing.

"Naw, you know me, I’m just passing through. But I thought I'd call and see how you're doing."

"You know how I'm doing, Dean." Cas states, his voice thick with bitterness. 

Dean winces at the truth in his friend's words. Knowing all too well how much Cas has struggled for years now, battling demons Dean still doesn’t fully understand. They had been close once, more so than anyone could’ve imagined, but life has taken them down different paths.

"Listen," Dean begins, 

"I rented myself a room at The Starlight for a few nights. Why don't you swing by? I’ll order us some pizza and maybe restock your fridge. We can catch up."

Cas hesitates, and for a moment, Dean thinks he might actually say no. 

"Okay, Dean. I'll be there." Cas says, sounding defeated.

Dean hangs up and lets out another sigh, this one heavier than the last. He knows he can't save Cas or fix the mess that is his life. But he also can't find it in himself to walk away either. Not after everything they have been through.

Dean leaves his room, returning to the front desk once more. When he requests an extra copy of Cas's room key, the clerk hands it over without question. She’s seen this all before, the two of them coming and going like ghosts.

Back in his room, Dean sits on the edge of the bed and stares out the window. The parking lot is empty, save for a few beat-up-looking cars. The neon sign of The Starlight flickers and buzzes, casting an eerie glow over everything.

Dean can't help but think back to his and Cas’s origins as he waits. They had been inseparable as kids, each other's lifelines in a world that seemed determined to tear them apart. They had even dated briefly, an awkward and confusing experiment in teenage love. Then Sam died, Dean left town, and Cas stayed behind to pick up the pieces alone. Even now, after all these years, the wrongs of the past haunt Dean, while the present feels no less bleak. But he’s determined to be there for Cas, no matter how impossible the task seems. For the sake of the man he once loved and probably still does, Dean knows he has to at least try.

[di-girls-dem-sugar]

Going to be keeping it absolutely real on here as I always do when things get bad. I'm starting to think that it might not get better after all I can't lie. I'm just so sad and angry and mad and lonely all the time. I moved away from home two years ago and I can't hold on to any stable relationships and I'm basically all alone here and I feel like such an idiot for complaining about it because it's nobody's fault that I don't go anywhere and I am bad at talking to people or holding on to relationships. it's completely my fault and I know it's up to me to change it but I've never been good at making friends and that hasn't changed just because I'm not 16 or 11 or 5 years old anymore and I'm still not quite sure how to go about it.

It's been 2 years and Canada doesn't feel like a foreign place anymore .I know my way around and I know how to get stuff done and it has already set in that this is my life now and I guess this just means that my life now is just me by myself with everyone I know and love 1800 miles away.

And even then half the time it still feels like I don't have anyone because my sister hardly answers her phone and my other sister and I have literally only known each other for a month and I don't even know her middle name yet and my mom has got a new job and doesn't have time to call me like she used to and so I don't even feel like I have my mommy anymore and my best friend is already dealing with so much and I wish I could turn back time and bring her loved one back to life but I cant and I feel so empty thinking about how she must feel and I'm not comfortable with anybody else so other than those people.

I'm a year away from graduating with a degree in a field that I hate and I can't find any internships or working experience because everything is so experience based and I am so bad at all this stuff and my grades are so mediocre and I don't have anything that makes me stand out and at this point I'm worried that I won't even be good enough for grad school. When I find a part of this wretched degree that I actually like I cannot seem to do well in it despite the fact that I actually care enough to study and do work in it and it's just so demotivating. And even if I do somehow manage to get a job I'm never going to be able to afford a house and I want to have a house so bad I don't like renting I want to have a backyard and I want my own kitchen and I want to decorate my house the way I feel like when I feel like it but everything is so expensive and I hate my shitty customer service job because I hate talking to people and I don't want to stand for 6 hours and fake smile and listen to the same songs play over and over again for 6 hours anymore but I can't leave my job because no one else is hiring me.

And I have to keep pretending like everything is okay when every time I turn on my phone and go out to social media I see something else indicating that we are witnessing the decline of man as we know it and there's kids dying in so many places all over the world and people getting their homes destroyed and no matter how much I try and raise awareness and no matter how much money I give and how much I talk about it there's really nothing changing and I go outside and somebody asks me for spare change to buy a coffee so they don't freeze in the below zero weather and I wish I could put them in a house but I don't even have a house of my own. And I used to be able to look around and find even the beauty in the smallest things and to not think the worst of people and to give everyone the benefit of the doubt for the most part but now I can't help but wonder if this person thinks genocide and exploitation and mindless killing and destruction is a good thing. And I hardly see anybody talking about Sudan or Congo or Senegal or Haiti or Madagascar and it feels like african people are just always doomed to be pushed to the back burner even by black people in the diaspora and I try to be positive because if the people in those countries haven't given up hope why should I but sometimes I just get so sad.

And despite going to therapy and going on meds I still look in the mirror and hate myself and I remember that my problems are so paltry and poor compared to what's going on in the rest of the world and that I feel worse because it doesn't make me hate how I look or who I am less and the world just won't stop turning and we never get a break we just have to keep going until we die no matter how bad things get and it's not fair and I'm so tired I just need it all to stop for a second. Looking at my life feels like reading the bell jar knowing that sylvia plath wrote a book about a depressed woman and ended up killing herself. I feel doomed

[thenukacolachallenge]

The Search for Heather Cooper, Chapter One

Rating: T Words: 3419 Warnings: Strong language, smoking Pairings: Phil Callahan x Heather Cooper, Eddie Munson x Dee Davis Summary: The night of the "earthquake" that rent Hawkins, Indiana asunder, local nurse Heather Cooper(@chadillacboseman) disappears. In the chaos that follows, officer Phil Callahan, her paramour, searches for her, but is snubbed by his fellow officers, who are dedicating their time to other matters. Desperate and running out of time and patience, Callahan enlists the help of Dee Davis, local misfit teen and unlikely friend of Heather's(as well as the late Eddie Munson's girlfriend), who brings the rest of The Party to assist in the search. Tags: @chadillacboseman, @roofgeese, @quantum-lover (please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!) Notes: omg it's been so long since i actually wrote this chapter but i'm finally posting it! i just recently went back and did some editing on it, and enjoyed it so much that i wanted to share it publicly! i can't wait to find out more about season 5 so Tara and I can eventually continue the fic :D expect lots of Callahan getting roasted in this and in later chapters lol. hope y'all enjoy!

Deputy Callahan sighed a deep, weary sigh as he raised his hand to the door of the Davis household. It was getting late, and he didn’t want to be here, asking for help from the person in town who hated him the most. He didn’t want to potentially bring a teenage girl into imminent danger. But, the town was in ruins, and everyone else at the station was too preoccupied with other situations to help him. He was running out of time, and he was out of options. He rapped at the door with his knuckles and waited, stomach churning.

After the second round of knocking, the door swung open. It occurred to Callahan that this was his first time face-to-face with Mr. Davis, even after all the years of the Davis children getting into trouble. The man had the same green eyes as both his children, with a lot more baggage underneath. His hair was clipped short, military standard(as Callahan recalled, he was active-duty when the Davises moved to town), and he sported a simple mustache, not too dissimilar to Callahan’s. 

He wondered briefly if Dee mocked her father’s facial hair, the way she mocked his when she thought he couldn’t hear.

“Officer,” Mr. Davis acknowledged the man with a gruff nod. “Can I help you?”

Callahan steeled his nerves. “Yes, I’m here because I need to speak to your daughter. It’s urgent. Is she here?”

Mr. Davis’s features stretched into a concerned frown. He sighed, looking away and rubbing his temples. “Look, Officer, if this is about the Munson kid–”

“No, no,” Callahan interrupted, shaking his head vigorously. He wasn’t going to open that can of worms right now. “Not about the Munson kid. Unrelated. But I need to speak to Dee immediately, and in private.”

The frown on Mr. Davis’s face only deepened, but after a moment of consideration, he swung the door open, stepping out of the way so the deputy could make his way inside. He led the man to the kitchen table, in the room directly after the entrance room. “Have a seat, sir. I’ll go get her. But I have to warn you, she’s… she’s not doing so well right now. Hasn’t said a single word since she got home earlier.” 

Callahan took a seat, nodding silently in response to the man’s words and pulling a pack of cigarettes out from his breast pocket as Mr. Davis left the room, climbing the stairs in the living room. To be quite honest, he was surprised the girl was even home; he’d been trying to contact her all week, to no avail. Too busy hiding the Munson boy, he was sure of it.

He glanced around the kitchen as he pulled out a cigarette and lit it, also dragging the ashtray at the other end of the table closer to himself as his eyes wandered. The kitchen was small, with yellow paint and a single wallpaper accent on one end. The room was sparsely decorated, but clean. A single pink apron hung over the doorknob to what Callahan could only assume was a pantry door, obviously belonging to the very girl he was here to see. He knew that only she and her father lived at this house regularly, with her troublesome older brother only visiting over the holidays.

After a few minutes of silence, save for the ticking of the clock above the stove and the sound of his own inhaling and exhaling of his cigarette, he heard the distinct noise of footsteps coming down the stairs. He looked in the direction of the doorway Mr. Davis had exited through, and as Dee Davis herself came through the doorway, he couldn’t help but stare, open-mouthed.

The kid looked like she’d been through hell and back.

Normally, when he was around her, she was covered in layers of oversized clothing, hidden in her own form of armor, making snide comments with a mischievous glint in her eyes. There was no hint of that girl here. She wore a giant t-shirt, of some rock band that Callahan didn’t recognize, and oversized pajama pants. Her face was bruised and cut to shreds with shallow scrapes, as though she’d been slashed over and over by… something. She also sported a large bruise circling her entire neck, as though she’d been strangled. Continuing to look over her, he noticed the same circular bruising around her wrists as well.

The thing Callahan noticed that hit him the hardest were her eyes. The usual glint in her eyes was gone, replaced by a haunting hollowness. At least, until she looked up to see Deputy Callahan sitting at her kitchen table.

The fire briefly returned to her, but it was far more intense than it had ever been. She always looked at him like she wanted to slap him upside the head, but this… was different. This was rage. She looked like she was out for blood.

After everything that had happened with the Munson kid, he couldn’t say he blamed her, but that didn’t make the situation any less awkward.

He cleared his throat, nodding to Mr. Davis, who was standing behind Dee, a protective hand on her shoulder. “Like I said, I need to speak privately with her.”

Her father glanced down at her, squeezing her shoulder. “You gonna be okay, kiddo?”

She didn’t respond with words, didn’t look back at her father, merely gave a curt nod. Her murderous gaze never left Callahan. With her acknowledgement, the man awkwardly backed out of the room, retreating to a nearby door and closing it behind him.

There was a pregnant pause as the two stared each other down. Dee silently walked to the edge of the table opposite him, her gaze piercing daggers into him, steps making no sound. If looks could kill, the deputy would have been long dead by this point. Normally he could barely keep her gaze on a good day, excusing himself as she stared him down, daring him to speak to her, but this time he didn’t flinch away. He stared right back at her, eyes sympathetic and pleading.

“What the hell do you want,” she spat out finally, her lip curling into a snarl as she spoke. She looked as though she was seconds from spitting the words directly into his face. Her sentence wasn’t a question, but a demand. 

How dare you show your face here, was the silent implication behind it.

Callahan sighed once more, ashing his cigarette. “Look, Davis. I know I have no right to ask you this, but…” He swallowed. “I need your help.”

That was clearly not what Dee had expected.

Her brows shot up in surprise and confusion, her mouth dropping open of its own accord for a moment. A strangled laugh came out, as her eyes widened. 

“You need my help?” She repeated back to him, stressing the last word. She laughed again, no humor behind it. “You,” she pointed to him, “need my help?”

He didn’t respond right away. She slammed her hand down onto the table suddenly, causing the man to jump in his seat.

“You ran a hate campaign against my boyfriend, for murders you damn well know he didn’t commit, that no normal person could have possibly committed, and you have the audacity to ask for my fucking help?” Her voice raised as she spoke, and she couldn’t help but continue to laugh incredulously at Callahan’s request. 

“You and that other idiot Powell let that piece of shit Jason Carver turn the entire town against him, let him form a lynch mob to try to hunt him down, and did nothing to stop him, and you want my fucking help? Instead of doing anything to stop that crowd, you decided to instead arrest a group of innocent teens in the woods and question them about Eddie’s whereabouts, while he was being hunted down by an entire town, and you want my goddamn help? How dare you?”

Callahan was finally unable to meet her intense, wide-eyed stare, moving his eyes down to the table he was sat at. This was going about exactly how he expected, he thought to himself bitterly.

“You have no right to ask me for anything, Callahan, you useless, cowardly sack of shit,” she lowered her voice back to a venomous hiss, leaning forward to make sure he could hear her perfectly clear. “Get the hell out of my house, or I swear to God, I’ll–”

“It’s Heather.”

Those two words gave her pause. Her expression faltered, and she backed away, looking at him not with the white-hot rage of before, but concern.

“...What?”

Callahan couldn’t mask the anxiety in his voice as he spoke. 

“Heather. She’s missing, been missing since that earthquake that tore up the entire town. I’ve spent hours looking for her, and-” his voice cracked as he continued, “and all the other officers keep telling me they’re too busy to help find her. I know something happened during that earthquake, and I know she’s in danger, but I can’t–”

He broke off for a moment, to collect himself. He looked back up at Dee. She was watching him, her expression tinged with something like fear. He took a deep breath before continuing.

“I can’t find her on my own. And I know you and the other kids you hang out with know what’s going on with all this crazy shit happening, you all know way more than I do. Than anyone at Hawkins PD does. And… If there’s any chance of finding her alive, I need your help. I know I have no right to ask, after everything that happened this past week, but… I need your help to find her, Davis. Please.”

Dee didn’t immediately respond. She stared at him for a moment longer, unmoving, until finally, she ran a hand through her dirty blonde hair, looking away to the clock above the stove.

“...Fuck.”

Callahan just nodded in reply, looking down to the mostly spent cigarette in his hand. “Yeah. Fuck.”

She closed her eyes, exhaling deeply, both hands now in her hair. She stood there, deep in thought, before opening her eyes again. She looked down at him, not with anger, or fear, but with determination in her gaze. “Wait here,” she commanded him, as she turned and began to walk out of the kitchen, to the stairs in the living room. 

“Wait– What do you mean wait?” Callahan responded, starting to rise from his seat. “Where are you going?”

“Upstairs, I need to change, and, uh, grab some things. Give me ten minutes, I’ll be right back down, okay? Don’t fucking move,” she threatened, pointing a finger at him as she looked back over her shoulder. He obeyed, sitting back down with a confused expression as she ran up the stairs.

Callahan lit another cigarette, and then another as the minutes crept by. Ten minutes turned into twenty, and he briefly considered going upstairs to check on her, but thought the better of it. Almost half an hour crept by, and he began to wonder if maybe she’d snuck out of her own house to look for Heather on her own, when he heard the sounds of her descending the stairs, also hearing her voice. “I repeat, this is a Code Red, anyone in range please respond, over. I repeat, this is a Code Red,” he heard her repeating the same phrase as she came into the kitchen, speaking into a walkie-talkie. She was in proper clothing now, but it was… battle-worn, he supposed, was the best way to describe it. A nondescript gray T-shirt was layered under a leather jacket, the latter completely covered in claw marks of some kind. Her jeans, rolled up at the bottom to reveal combat boots underneath, were torn in several places, and spatters of what looked to be dried blood and other assorted muck decorated the worn denim. Around her waist, he could see a utility belt of some kind, carrying a pistol(did she even have a permit for that?), a few cans of… something in an aerosol bottle, and a bottle of clear liquid with a rag sticking out, obviously a makeshift explosive. 

What the hell were these kids getting up to this past week?

Callahan squinted in visible confusion as he continued to look the teen over. He also saw a backpack slung over one shoulder, and in the hand not holding the walkie, she carried a leatherbound journal. Seeing Dee with something to write in was never an usual sight, as she always had something on hand to write in, but this was easily the nicest quality journal the deputy had ever seen her with. Normally, it was just basic school composition books.

Dee completely ignored Callahan’s bewildered stare as she set the journal down atop the table carelessly, still repeating the same phrase into the machine in her hand.

“I repeat, this is a Code Red, anyone in range please respond over,” she droned, her voice getting a stronger edge of agitation each repetition. “I repeat, this is a goddamn Code Red, can one of you please pick up, for God’s sake–”

“Hello? It’s Nancy, what’s going on, Dee?”

The voice of Nancy Wheeler cut through Dee’s rant, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Finally! I’ve been trying to reach someone for like ten minutes now! Listen, my friend is missing, I’m going to try to find her and I need–”

“Dee? Are you okay?” Another voice speaks, one Callahan didn’t recognize. Another girl. 

“Robin! Listen, I–”

“Hello?” came the voice of Steve Harrington. Callahan definitely knew that voice.

“Can you all please stop interrupting me? Christ! Where have you all been?” Dee yelled into the receiver, gripping the walkie as if she wanted to throw it against the wall. 

“An earthquake just happened, our parents are all freaking out over us,” a fourth voice spoke up, audibly younger than the others. Dustin Henderson. One of the kids the deputy had found out in the woods. One of the ones that ran away from his questioning. He didn’t sound as worried as the others, his melancholic tone reminding Callahan of the haunted, dead-eyed stare Dee had on her face before she saw him.

“Okay, that’s fair,” Dee responded, running a hand through her hair, clearly exasperated. “Look, Miss Cooper from the local clinic is missing, and it’s likely with everything that’s going on that she ended up in the Upside Down. I’m going to look for her. Can any of you guys meet me there and help out?”

…The Upside Down?

There was an uncomfortably long silence, and Dee cursed under her breath, without her hand on the button, so her peers couldn’t hear. Finally, Steve spoke.

“Dee, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. We just got back, and there’s probably a lot of people missing right now. I know you’re upset about Eddie, but… Maybe we should wait.”

So something did happen to the Munson kid. That explained a lot.

“All right, maybe I didn’t make myself clear,” Dee spoke through gritted teeth, clearly annoyed. “I didn’t fucking ask if I should go back or not, Harrington. I’m going. I’ve lost too many people today already. Eddie’s gone. Max is in the hospital, and nobody knows if she’s going to wake up. Heather Cooper is my friend, and if there’s any chance at all that she’s still alive out there, I’m going to take it, and I’m going to find her. Spare me with your bullshit concern, okay? If you don’t want to go, that’s fine, but don’t you dare tell me what I should and shouldn’t do. It’s a simple yes or no question, are you in or not?”

Another uncomfortable silence followed. Callahan picked up quite clearly on the thick emotion in the girl’s voice.

“I’m in,” Dustin said, a hint of finality in his tone.

“Not you, Henderson,” Dee responded immediately.

“What the hell, Dee!?” “Look, normally I’d have no issue with you coming, but you’re still hurt. You can barely walk right now with that leg dislocation. If we run into something dangerous down here, you’re a sitting duck. Stay up here and help from topside, okay? I’ve got my walkie and extra batteries, I’ll stay in touch.”

Dustin grumbled something barely audible from his end, obviously unhappy but in agreement.

Steve sighed into the receiver. “I’m not letting you go back in there by yourself, Dee. I’m in.”

“Me too,” Robin chimed in. “We might be able to help out other people too. And the town is definitely going to need all the medical professionals it can find.”

“I’m coming too,” Nancy added.

“Let’s do this,” a fifth voice spoke out of the blue, startling Dee, but Callahan recognized it immediately. Erica Sinclair. The young girl who’d slashed Powell’s tires.

“Erica? Where have you even been? No, absolutely not,” Steve started, but Dee spoke over him.

“Yes, Harrington. She’s not some helpless little girl. She helped save Max’s life.”

“Thank you,” Erica responded snidely to Dee. Callahan sighed, rubbing his temples. This was already a mess.

“What about Lucas?” Dee asked the young girl.

“There’s no way he’s leaving Max’s side. He’s still right there next to her, passed out,” the younger Sinclair relayed, her tone taking a melancholic turn.

“That’s fine, I didn’t think so.” Dee turned to the deputy, finally speaking to him. “So, Callahan, where was she last? You know that, at least?”

“Wait, Callahan? As in, Officer Callahan? The cop?” Robin asked, nervous.

A quiet “oh shit” came from both Erica and Dustin. Dee sighed.

“Yeah, he’s in on this too. I’m not happy about it either,” Dee narrowed her eyes directly at Callahan as she spoke, “but we don’t really have time to debate about it. Where was she last seen?” Callahan blinked, not expecting to be put on the spot like that. “Um… She was walking home from the clinic?”

“You don’t sound too sure about that,” Erica pointed out.

“That’s fine. It’s enough to work with, at least,” Dee spoke over whatever response the deputy was going to come up with. “We’ll meet up at the clinic, follow her path home. I’m willing to bet that we’ll find part of the gate there, and that’s where we can go in and start looking. Harrington, you pick up Buckley. Wheeler, you’re closer to the hospital, so swing by and pick up Sinclair. I’ll ride over with Callahan. Everyone, bring whatever weapons you have. And if anyone has any extra cans of hairspray, bring them for me.”

“Why?” Steve asked.

“Because, Harrington, aerosol cans and a lighter are what kept the demobats from eating me. It’ll help, trust me. Henderson, you stay nearby and we’ll keep you posted, alright?”

Dustin sighed. “Fine,” he grumbled, not happy with not being included.

“See you guys in a bit, okay?” Everyone responded with a quick affirmation, and then the walkie went dead. Dee turned to a very confused Callahan, still sat in his chair at the Davis kitchen table. “Come on, Stringbean, stop sitting there with that dumb look on your face. Time to go.”

The deputy frowned, but complied, pulling out his keys as he stood, putting his cigarette out in the ashtray before making his way toward the door. “I have… so many questions.”

“I’m fully aware,” Dee murmured as she grabbed the leatherbound journal on the table, following behind him. “I’ll fill you in on the way. We need to stop by the station first, though, if it’s still standing. Gonna need more than that dinky pistol, and I know you guys have bigger weapons there.” Callahan wanted to point out that she also had a dinky pistol, but thought the better of it as he unlocked the car door, sliding into the driver’s seat as Dee sat in the passenger’s side. “Look, I don’t know what weapons you think we have. This is Hawkins, not some big-name city police department.”

“You have to have something more than just standard-issue,” she stressed, as the deputy put the keys into the ignition, starting the car. “I’ve been to most of the town halls here, I know you guys have some extra budget. Now shut up and drive. I have a lot of shit I need to explain to you before this all goes down.”

Callahan sighed. This was going to be a long night.

[thepapergirlandthespiegelman]

Sometimes I feel like I'm the only person in the world who still remembers and loves CDs. Vinyl records have made a comeback and are now considered cool among certain varieties of hipster and audiophile, but CDs haven't had the same treatment.

And like, to some extent, I kinda understand that. CDs aren't cool. Records are cool. They're big and textured and elegant and they're objectively old enough to feel vintage rather than dated. They're not exactly durable but they make up for their fragility with their other positive qualities, and you could certainly argue that warping and scratches add exactly the kind of character to a record that we've lost with digital music and therefore crave from physical media. A slightly damaged CD pretty much always just becomes totally unplayable.

So I get it. And I'll readily admit that the biggest reason why I like CDs is simply that I grew up with them and have fond memories of them. But I do also think it's objectively true that there are certain positive features unique to CDs. I will never tire of the experience of giving and receiving mix CDs. You can't do that with a record. (I mean, I don't think you can? Not easily, at any rate.) And it's not the same as a playlist! It's not the same. When you make a mix CD, you not only curate the music for the recipient, you burn the disc, you decorate it, you make the sleeve or pick the jewel case and make the paper insert for it, figure out how to wrap/package it. I mean, obviously you don't have to do all of these things, but the opportunity is there for a lot of creativity and love. And in the end the person gets both the physical object as well as being able to make digital copies of the songs on their computer (which also allows them to use those songs in their future mix CDs, continuing the cycle!).

The mix CD is just so unpretentious, wholesome, and kind. It gave the average person unprecedented power over how music was curated and shared. (I mean, of course mix tapes did something similar, and maybe they deserve more credit than I give them, simply because they're from before my time; but I kind of have to assume that CD mixing is a much simpler and more efficient process.) The mix CD creates a loving context for experiencing music. Here, I made this! Special from me, for you! I think context is one of the things which we most desperately miss in this modern age, where we're fed our newest songs by the goddamn algorithm (whether that's Spotify, TikTok, YouTube, or whatever). The mix CD is personal, human, earnest and sweet.

(And yes, to some extent, playlists do this as well, and they have their own advantages. But I think the shareability of playlists, while making it possible for many more people to experience your creation, has ended up discouraging the intimate act of making something just for one other person and instead promotes the idea that what is most desirable is to have your work seen by the greatest possible number of people.)

I started thinking about this because I saw another post talking about the removal of CD/DVD drives from computers and it really does make me sad thinking that this may be the final nail in the coffin of the mix CD. I've had to depend on external disc drives to make my mixes, and I'm sure that for most people, CDs have passed totally out of their awareness.

I'm not saying the mix CD is the end all be all of sharing music. There are already lots of other ways to share music and I would quite like to think that we will continue to invent new ways. But I do find it very sad that the art of the mix CD is dying, and while the mix CD itself may be doomed, I really hope that we don't forget its virtues, and find a way to keep the spirit of the thing alive. Physical object as well as digital copies that can be shared with others, permanent ownership of the music (rather than just streaming/renting), the burning and reading of this object being cheap and accessible, personal touch/high customizability (not being limited simply to song order, a single cover image, and a short description), intimacy. These are what I don't want to lose.

[aishangotome]

Main Story Chapter 17-15: The Third Bang (第三声巨响) | Light  and Night 光與夜之戀

Chapter 17-13

♡———♡

My phone was gone. I held the safety charm Osborn gave me, lying in bed all night without sleep.

When I woke up the next day, he had already left. There was breakfast on the table, with a note pressed under the plate.

"It's okay if you don't see me after you finish breakfast." It said.

He seemed to understand everything, and it was precisely this clarity that made it even more frightening.

Looking around, the doors and windows were sealed, there was no escape. I thought I was trapped again.

How many times has it been? I mocked myself, breaking off a small piece of bread and putting it in my mouth. Chewing and chewing, I felt it was a bit bitter.

There were only a few necessities in the room, even the pen had its core removed, not to mention other sharp tools.

In other words, there was only one way out --

Kill him.

The thought that suddenly came to my mind made me shiver. I didn't dare to continue thinking.

I calmed myself and looked around. I thought this was probably not his room, many of the decorations had a distinct personal touch.

If it was a rented house, these things should have been dealt with long ago. Speaking of which, he didn't have an ID card, how did he rent the house --

I picked up a dusty keychain, closed my eyes, and tried to sense it with my talent.

It was him...not only him, but also them. It was the dead people Osborn mentioned, their faces twisted and flashed before my eyes.

A cold sweat broke out on my back. I took a deep breath and touched the coat that was casually hung on the sofa.

The sound of sniper fire rang out one after another, followed by a large swathe of crimson, and much sorrow and pain.

There had been many conjectures and countless excuses. However, everything I perceive at this moment tells me clearly that all these cases are his handiwork.

Could the ATM explosion also be his doing?

My hands trembled uncontrollably, and my stomach felt cold, as if I was about to vomit something.

How can I treat him the same way I treated Osborn? I now understand his madness and his extremism.

The desire for revenge is controlling him, and one day, his last shred of sanity will be consumed.

He is no longer the boy I knew. But why? In just a few days, he has become indifferent to everything, even willing to risk his life in a gamble.

This can't go on.

I clenched my fists so hard that my nails dug deep into my palms, yet I felt no pain.

That afternoon, only one thought remained in my mind - if he were dead, everything would be fine for Osborn.

I think I'm going crazy too.

Maybe anyone can turn vicious when it comes to the people they care about.

I was rummaging around the house, and when I came back to my senses, I had a bottle of sleeping pills in my hand.

I boiled porridge, opened the pills and poured some powder into it. He should fall asleep, right? I thought to myself, as my hands were shaking.

-

The night outside was as dark as ink, lulling the entire city of Guangqi to sleep, including every desolate corner.

In the depths of a narrow alley where one couldn't see their own hand, the young Osborn looked at Yuan Hao coldly.

Osborn (Boy): Why did you use a bomb?

His voice was calm and cold, echoing lonely between the two walls. Beads of sweat dripped from Yuan Hao's forehead, unable to explain the violent mood he had at the time.

The boy took out a dark object from somewhere and walked forward, roughly tying Yuan Hao's arms together. Yuan Hao shivered, and it took him a while to see that the object the boy had taken out was a bomb.

Yuan Hao belatedly felt the icy murderous intent from the "god" and started to struggle and scream hysterically.

Osborn (Boy): It'll be quick, it won't even take three seconds.

The boy methodically stuffed the bomb into the hemp rope held between his hands, and after confirming it was secure, he pulled out the safety pin.

With a loud "boom", the bomb exploded, tearing Yuan Hao's arms apart. The boy strolled out of the smoke and dust as if the screams coming from behind were a pleasant melody.

Yuan Hao's cries of pain did not pierce through the night, nor did they disturb the tranquility of other places.

-

In a desolate, abandoned factory on the outskirts of the city, a tall figure emerged under the moonlight.

Martin boots stirred up the dust on the floor as Osborn stopped in the hall, carefully scanning the surrounding shadows.

Yesterday, he finally found the source of the bomb, a blood kin. And this was his hiding place.

Osborn's ears picked up a slight movement, and as expected, several long-hidden guards rushed out from all around.

Osborn: Get out of the way if you don't want to die.

The guards did not retreat, but instead pulled out their weapons and cautiously approached.

Understanding their choice, Osborn said no more and ignited a blue flame in his palm.

He dodged a stabbing blade, kicked away the nearest person, and then burned away a sneak attack from the corner aimed at his heart.

He barged through a narrow door at the back of the hall, where the blood kin who supplied the bomb was located.

Opening the door, he indeed saw the face from the file, but the middle-aged man's eyes were filled with terror.

Osborn: I just want to know who asked you to buy the bomb.

The middle-aged man tremblingly reached into a drawer and pulled out a gun, but at the moment he raised it, he was surprised to find the person standing at the door had disappeared.

At some point, Osborn had appeared behind the man.

He grabbed the man's arm, and with a "crack", the man screamed as his wrist was twisted at an unnatural angle, and the gun fell to the ground.

The man struggled to raise his other hand, his fingertips gathering a terrifying black mist - a blood kin's talent? Osborn was slightly startled, but reacted quickly to block the attack and pushed the man's head onto the desk. With a muffled sound, the man lost consciousness.

On the glowing screen, transaction records flashed by, igniting the rage in Osborn's eyes.

The name "Tang Jie" suddenly caught his eye, and the purchase date beside it was after his death.

-

I stood restlessly in the kitchen, feeling the warmth of the porridge gradually fade in my hands. The situation at hand left me no room for hesitation.

No one but me would know what was melting in this steaming bowl of porridge right now. I tried to tell myself there was nothing wrong with this, as long as it was for Osborn--

After waiting for a long time, he still didn't come back. I slumped over the table, overwhelmed by exhaustion and feeling dizzy.

Dusk fell, and only a dark red afterglow remained on the horizon. The porridge had completely cooled down, and in a daze, I seemed to hear the sound of a doorknob turning.

A jacket fell on me, with the clean scent of laundry detergent. I knew he was back.

I didn't open my eyes, just heard the chair being pulled out, followed by the faint clinking of bowls and chopsticks, suggesting gentle movements.

He started eating, my heart pounding uncontrollably, even my palms becoming clammy.

This dinner was especially long, and I could do nothing but wait. Suddenly, footsteps approached, and I couldn't help but become alert.

However, he just stopped and carefully picked me up.

A faint smell of gunpowder wafted over. Had he... gone to kill again?

I held my breath uneasily, letting him put me on the bed. Then he sat by the corner of the bed for a while, tucked in my blanket, and got up and left.

I waited until the room was completely quiet before slowly opening my eyes.

On the nightstand, there was a glass of water and an unopened magazine.

Did he buy this? Why would he think of buying it? I nervously opened the magazine, the white powder still flickering faintly before my eyes.

The sharp paper grazed my index finger, leaving a long, narrow cut, blood slowly seeping out.

Unsure if he was still outside, I didn't want to disturb him. I quietly opened the drawer, looking for some iodine for the cut.

After rummaging around, I found a package on the top shelf of the cabinet. Unwrapping it, inside was the pack of band-aids I had given him before, along with two meal tickets for the noodle shop.

The meal tickets were even carefully sealed in a plastic case.

I took out a band-aid and wrapped it around my finger. I told myself not to feel it, but the intense emotions still surged through me.

Under the dim, warm light, he looked at these things that could hardly be called gifts, smiling with contentment.

It was as if a layer of mist had descended before my eyes, and within that mist, slow and warm moments stirred.

"Stop feeling sorry for him," I told myself.

The night was deep, the dew heavy, and the air was filled with a burning silence.

When I got up to get water from the kitchen, a fruit knife had appeared on the counter at some point. It was small, but very sharp.

The thought that had faded away returned.

I gripped the handle of the knife. Under the incandescent light, the blade reflected a pale white glow.

Just like that, I returned to the living room. On the sofa, that familiar figure was curled up in the corner. His eyes were closed, his only movement the gentle rise and fall of his breath.

With the knife in my hand, I stood beside him.

He seemed to have not rested for a long time, his brow furrowed slightly, even his dreams restless.

I forced myself to raise the knife. His eyelashes fluttered. A few threads had come loose on his clothes, but there wasn't a single stain. This was the one I had bought for him.

As I hesitated, he suddenly turned over, his chest now facing the tip of my knife.

Just one centimeter, one more centimeter closer, and he would die.

However, my gaze wandered and fell upon the scar on his ankle. It had once been smooth, but now it bore a shocking mark.

*flashback*

Osborn: I used to be afraid of water. Once, I jumped into a river and cut my foot on an abandoned drainpipe, leaving a scar.

Osborn: Because I wouldn't give up. I wanted to prove that my choices were right, and even more, I wanted to prove that even if I was wrong, I could make it right.

Osborn: Don't regret your decisions. Being alive is your best card. Look ahead.

*flashback over*

Fate played a trick, leaving a scar on his foot as well.

I abruptly withdrew the knife, barely suppressing the gasps in my chest. Before making a sound, I fled.

In the darkness, a pair of emerald green eyes slowly opened. He lifted his arm and stared at his wrist for a long time.

At first, he only wanted to get his body back through her.

But then, she stood up for herself, smiled and talked to him, even invited him to eat... She was kind, a kindness that was both familiar and unfamiliar. He had almost forgotten what it felt like.

So he kept his promise to protect her, but she had forgotten everything.

He had Yuan Hao create a disaster, just a small one, as a protest against Y/N not coming to find him. Then he would go to save her, and Y/N would be grateful and feel guilty for not coming to find him.

He knew that this was also a punishment for his other self.

But she actually said she only pitied him. He didn't understand. At that moment, he really didn't want to let Y/N go, but he didn't want to keep her for long either, just a few days.

He couldn't explain his feelings for Y/N.

Maybe it was because meeting her that day became the most unforgettable day after his rebirth. He was living like he used to.

So, he wanted to have a few more days. When he came home and saw her waiting, the food on the table, though cold, was filling. He wanted to have more days like this.

But the first thing she thought of was always Osborn, not even sparing him a few days.

He knew there were sleeping pills in the porridge, but he still ate it, not even flinching when the knife was pointed at his chest.

She still didn't do it, her footsteps hurried as she turned and left.

If pity wasn't love, then what was this?

The night deepened, even the chirping of insects grew faint. He lay quietly on the sofa, staring at the ceiling in a daze, then got up and went to Y/N's room.

Y/N was asleep, her clothes and blanket tangled together, sweaty strands of hair clinging to her forehead.

He hesitated, then reached out and carefully tucked in the corner of the blanket that had fallen off the bed.

Osborn (Boy): Why didn't you kill me?

The girl before him wore a mask of ignorance and a dress of self-satisfaction. Yes, she was just like everyone else, just a bunch of self-righteous hypocrites, no different.

But he couldn't deceive himself. What he felt was something he had lacked for so many years, something no one had ever given him...

What was it? He couldn't figure it out. He wanted to look into the sleeping eyes of the person before him, to see if they could give him an answer.

Osborn: Aren't you afraid I really won't let you go?

Or, that I might really fall in love with you.

He reached out as if possessed, his fingertips covering her thin eyelids. Her sleeping eyes moved slowly, giving him a false sense of hope, like touching a treasure he shouldn't possess.

-

This night felt unbearably long. Osborn lowered his head, looking at the list in his hand, his eyes slightly narrowed.

The guild's tracking system showed that after Tang Jie's death, his bank card was still being used, but the phone card used for payment was only used once before being thrown into the trash.

Yuan Hao was the one who caused the explosion! But who else? Was the explosion aimed at him? It seemed so on the surface, but in reality, Y/N had been taken away.

He knew there was one person who would do this, someone who would want to take Y/N and who was related to the academy.

He should have thought of it sooner. Y/N clenched the list tightly in his hand.

He crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it into the trash can, then put on his jacket. The little black dog doll slipped out of his pocket and rolled to his feet.

Maybe he hit the switch, because Y/N's voice came from the doll. It turned out the doll could record, he didn't even know.

Voice Recording: At first, I didn't think he should be destroyed either. He's also you, the you from your youth that I missed.

Voice Recording: But choices have to be made, right?

Voice Recording: If it means sacrificing you or causing you pain, I can't do it.

Osborn picked up the doll, the recording still playing on repeat. His fingers slowly tightened, as if trying to grasp the last remnants of the sound.

He hesitated again, his heart softening. This time, he had not only harmed himself but also her. It was time to put an end to everything.

-

He arrived at the bar named "Weeds." Zhou Weicheng was sitting at the far end of the bar, not drinking, with only a glass of lemonade on the table.

Seeing Osborn, he wasn't surprised, and just stood up calmly.

Osborn did the same. He pulled out a chair and sat down, his gaze equally calm.

Osborn: Please, extract the soul that belongs to him from my body.

The lemon slices in the glass floated up and down, reflecting mottled shadows, then instantly disappearing into the boundless night.

.

.

.

.

.

Chapter 17-17

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to buy me a coffee here

[evermorehqs]

CATCHING MY BREATH, STARING OUT AN OPEN WINDOW

Sally Carerra is based on Sally from Cars. She is a 44 year old human, lawyer and motel owner, and uses she/her pronouns. She has no powers. Sally is portrayed by Jessica Chastain and she is open.

CATCHING MY DEATH, AND I COULDN’T BE SURE

For most of her life, California was home to Sally. She had a beautiful brain and she put it to use, graduating high school early and jumping right into college, on the fast track to become a respected attorney just like her parents. Unfortunately, no amount of degrees, money or success seemed to make her happy. She lived in a nice penthouse with a beautiful view. She was practically famous in her circle. She had a group of so-called friends and a wild side that she wasn't afraid to let loose on the weekends. But she still found herself coming home to an empty place every night, and it didn't matter how pricey rent was or how well decorated the walls were... she was engulfed with loneliness as she stared out at the city lights, wondering if that was all there was to life. And if so, what was the point? Evermore had never been an intended destination, but it turned out to be exactly what she needed. She wasn't cut out for the life her family had envisioned for her. She didn't want to live in a big city surrounded by familiar strangers. While at first she was frantic to fix her car and get back to all she'd ever known, when she began to see how close-knit her new neighborhood was, she came to the conclusion that settling there of all places wouldn't be so bad. There wasn't quite as much of a high demand for a lawyer in the much smaller town, so she ended up buying a rundown motel to fix up, just to get by. And who would have known that just getting by was what she had longed for all along?

I HAD A FEELING SO PECULIAR

❀ Sarah Hawkins: The two met shortly after Sarah's arrival to Evermore, and Sally would say they just clicked instantly. She is exactly the kind of woman people should be looking up to! ❀ Stanford Pines: Sally can't stand Ford, and she really can't even put her finger on it. Something about him just rubs her the wrong way, and she'd rather steer clear of his company. ❀ Suresh Patel: Sally can be a bit of a night owl, and she's ran into Suresh enough times to realize he could say the same. He's always nice enough, despite how nervous he seems to be.

THAT THIS PAIN WOULD BE FOR EVERMORE

[lords-of-mayhem]

hey all im saying is that if you write a thesis about how loc made you unwell i would read the hell out of it

like ik how it personally is making me worse, i need to know what its doing to others desperately

Okay, so. I'm gonna just throw all my thoughts that I currently have here. No promises on how coherent I'll be.

A lot of it is just based off of how violence is portrayed in the movie.

The parallels and foreshadowing in this movie fucks me up so much.

The scene of Euronymous simply saying "Scorpions?" to Varg and walking away from him paralleled by him telling Varg later, "I attracted people by saying you can't have this, you're not worthy."

Euronymous saying "nothing could stop me" cut immediately by Varg staring in the mirror???

The way Euronymous gives a speech that Varg overhears in the restaurant that Varg later parallels in the bar, trying to get the same adoration and it just doesn't happen?? Ough

Euronymous: We're not just a fucking metal band. I'm sick of all those speed and death metal bands, all that Swedish shit. All they do is celebrate life and party, they should just call it life metal. We play black metal, true Norwegian black metal. Varg: Exactly, posers claiming to be Satanists when all they wanna do is drink beer and have a good time. I hate that, all those death metal kids with their stupid Morbid Angel t-shirts. Making a trend out of something that was meant to instill fear.

Also I know I've said this before, but SOMEBODY in production has a blood kink. I refuse to believe otherwise.

There are at least 15 separate shots of men with blood splattered across their faces in this movie. I didn't even carefully examine every scene, I just kind of skimmed through the parts I knew of right off. (The show scene, Faust's murder, etc.)

And the way blood/violence is presented is so horny for no reason?? Like Occultus having his mouth wide open while Pelle's blood is actively pouring onto his face? This????

Who asked for this? ^^^^

Another thing is the parallels between Pelle and Ann-Marit. I KNOW I've gone on and on, but it fucks me up. There was no reason she needed to look so similar, down to their outfits being similar.

The multiple shots of Varg ass naked and fucking?? (This caught me so by surprise the first time I saw this movie, like why did they need to do that lol)

Euronymous pinning Manheim down while he encourages Necro to cut him? Lives in my head rent free.

The pure sexual tension in the Varg/Euro church burning scene. Like they had a cute little date and then the most homoerotic stare-downs ever. The way they smile at each other and the little hug :(

Then this gay shit

On the note of gay shit, there's not a single reason why Faust needed to touch Occultus as much as he did, yet here we are.

On the topic of Faust, there was also not a single reason why he needed to double take watching Euronymous piss. (keep your eyes to yourself girlie <3)

Emory Cohen also being so phenomenal at expressions really fucked me up in this movie, particularly him breaking up with Euro and him killing him later. He's so talented and it makes me so insane

Emory Cohen in general is just such a fantastic pick for this role, he's hands down my favorite casting. He's similar enough (especially irl Varg's arrogance that he captures) while also making the character his own is such a good mix. Plus, knowing that having a Jewish actor playing him pissed irl Varg off is a bonus.

Side note, but Pelle's dad leaving that voicemail while he was killing himself? It gets to me, man. It gets to me. (And while we're on the topic of parents, Faust's mom yelling in the background while he's getting arrested? Oh lord)

The Varg/Euro tension while they played with Atilla??? Hello???

Blackthorn decorating Varg's room for when the interviewers come by is also something I think about a lot. It doesn't fuck me up in the same way the others do, but I love that little scene. And him offering tea at possibly the worst time

They were sharing the same brain cell in this scene fr

The ending will always fuck me up the most. The shots of them all having fun intercut with Varg/Blackthorn/Faust getting arrested, Euronymous' memorial, etc. If you want to be really emotionally unwell, I highly suggest listening to this while watching it.

Everyone's reactions were sooooo good too

If you want something depressing to think about too, you can think about the fact Necrobutcher was probably just finally moving on from Pelle's death, only for Euronymous to die as well.