#but yeah as you can see i am very interested with the concept of mike adjusting to living in human society as a weird alive corpse thing

[simcardiac-arrested]

day 30 - videogame (undertale, fnaf, etc)

somebody get this man some chapstick

[pzyii]

Okay in theory, the darkest minds au:

(click for better quality)

Just kidding this stuff basically never stays "in theory" for more than like a day here is lore under cut (things can very well change)

(i am just adjusting a few rants i wrote to @eddiend about this since i dont wnat to write a totally new one)

so i just in theory started thinking about a st the darkest minds au, which is interesting. i think i like the movie but it was a while ago i watched it, but i definitely like the concept for it.

if u dont know wht it is, its a dystipian future film based on a book by the same name, about how there started spreading a disease callled I.A.A.N in people under 18, that doesn't show symptoms or anything untill they die, its just randomly the child will have some kind of seizure like thing, where they start to shake and their eyes start to glow, if they r holding anything it will telekinesisly crumble kinda. and then as suddenly as it started the child is dead.

eventually is 90% of children dead and weird stuff starts to happen to the ones who have survived. and that is where the interesting thing to think about is. bc the children get powers categoried in colours (from least to most dangerous):

green: increased intelligence

blue: telekinesis

gold: manipulate electricity

red: create and control fire (shoot from mouth in movie)

orange: mind control

orange and red are the most dangerous but also extremely rare, when all the children start getting sent to facilities are they supposed to kill reds and oranges on sight. but it seems that some reds dont get killed and instead brainwashed and tourtured to become mindless weapons for the military since they are so distructive.

so yeah thats how the world works kinda, i wont go into the continued plot since that is not that important at the moment, whats important is what colours st characters would be so lets start from the top:

orange: el and will (i know that since el have telekinesis in the show that could be an answer but seriously she would be the most dangerous one and for will it is bc of his conection to the upside down and the signs pointing to him being like Henry/vecna/001. yk its obvious)

red: max (thinks it works well, could do great plot lines with it, and she got rescuded from the facilities before they could brainwash her, bc there are adults who actually want to help the kids of course (joyce and hopper would definitely be helping children flee))

gold: eddie, Jonathan (this is alot simply bc it seemed the best, eddies pretty hyper yk, and Jonathan i thought of cameras and simply thought this one was the best suit for him, but he could also be a blue)

blue: steve, lucas, mike (in some ways this was just the ppl i didn't know what to do with, but i do think it works pretty well, dont have that much motivation for it tho. argyle would probably be here too)

green: dustin, erica, nancy (they r all geniuses, it isnt much more than that)

(i just before I continue want to say that in the actual book/movie personality n smartness before i.a.a.n doesn't effect what colour you become, its random, with some colours just being more common, but when u do an au line this, ots much more interesting to think what that suits the character yk, but still keep that in mind)

...so I didn't mention robin in that , she is kinda complicated so i kinda need a long rant about her, thats what i do, bc green could be a simple option, she is a genius we all know that, but honestly i dont think it suits well. i can be me being biased n just wanting to make her something more interesting but i think i genuinely dont think it suits her. and also like i said in the paranphasis above it doesn't always have to be connected. but just i see the green a more focused, textbook smart (which robin is), they know all the physics in the diffrent dimensions. robin is smart, she is great at conections and has great memorie, but she isnt the person who walk around like they are an textbook for school. more a book of random facts yk.

but anyways the colours i actually thought were gold n red. gold is a bit like with eddie, its just their energy, their vibe, which gives of gold feels. i could see her using electric powers yk.

for red its probably more of the biased stuff n just wanting to use it to make more ✨angst✨, but i do think i can see it. n it help that max is the other person whos a red, bc theyarer still a lot alike, and it works well with them having the same colour. plus she is still a pretty feisty, or at least snarky, kinda jerky person (im saying this affectionately bc im not better). it is very much walls n defense mechanisms just like it is a lot with max. like just the way they act n react to trauma n really most situations is a lot alike so them being the same makes sense yk.

...

And also just another reason why I kinda think robin could be a red is BC otherwise the only Red is Max, which would Hella boring. And the two probably best options for another red is Nancy or robin I would say, Robin i argured before, but Nancy works pretty well too, she has a good relationship with Max n I think U can kinda understand with everything n guns why it works. But I feel that Nancy suits being a green too much to be anything else yk, she is the perfect kind of genius to be a green so it feels weird to make her something else, plus if shes a green she can still use guns instead of using her powers which she would use if she was a red yk.

I also think from a narrative point it doesn't work well, I have an idea of how some things would play out which works well, n with that way, Nancy n max wouldn't even interact untill later n have that realationship as reds that is possible with robin being a red in the story

...

N i have continued thinking about what would like happen n stuff n I thought of some things. one is that barb didn't make it, she died from i.a.a.n and in front of Nancy at that (sorry :)). N then with robin being a red, something I didn't mention is that the reds have a tendency to twitch, an extra amount when they use their powers I think. Which u could do that BC of how it looks when they twitch like A LOT, that Nancy the first time thinks that she is going to die from i.a.a.n BC she stil has a fear all her friends will BC of barb.

...

There is also a character in the books apparently who's a red who gets called "twitch" bc of the whole red thing and I could see robin being called that after Nancy has stopped having her panic attack realising she won't die

...

And Steve have a few burns from robin, BC powers are hard and she has trauma

...

and here are deep dives into the powers of oranges and reds

...

Robin basic story kinda (things can have been mentioned earlier):

‪Got found out and sent to a facility after an accident were the fire departement was called.‬ Got rescured from the facility after not having been there long, which luckily meant they never got actually brainwashed. She is though extremly traumatized since she got sent to the facility at the about same time as Max and tried to protect the kid as much as possible ending with her geting waterboared before her and Max (Steve was also at the same facility) got saved. When Nancy realised Robin weren’t going to die she started calling them ”Twitch” for teasing and flirting.

Nancy basic story kinda (things can have been mentioned earlier):

‪Had to vittnes her best friend (Barb) die from I.A.A.N.‬ Got sent to a facility with Mike not long after 90% of children had died by Ted. Got rescured by Joyce and Hoppers group 6 years after I.A.A.N. She often still thinks her current close friends will die from I.A.A.N, and when she first saw Robin twitch more unconrollably since they’re a red she though they were going to die

[perexcri]

Helloo! Fannon again!!! Still under the weather but your writing always helps.

The Flirting!!! Knight Mike lore!! The fact that Will’s the first one to not think he’s being silly about needing to go for thinks (which, big mood Michael) is encjdjedjej 😭 I’m still not totally convinced that Mike isn’t some form of royalty🤔🤔🤔

Also I am very much wondering about the using magic thing. Bc yeah I can see how the allure of the facelift that magic seems to give u would be like Dangerous, but also it can’t be like Actually bad yeah?

William, my dude my guy ignoring ur memories won’t make them change or make the Knight any less your bestie from long ago,,, pls remember and get a hug or smth

This fic makes me want to roll around like a pollywog /pos

I hope you’re doing wonderful!! Thank you for being such a lovely writer and sharing it🥰

ahhh hello fannon!! i'm sorry you're still not feeling well - i'm sending you nothing but positive vibes and a warm bowl of soup and hope they will help you feel better :]

yesss they got more interactions!! it's all kinda starting to come together now, even if Will is big on the memory repression lol. he's definitely in his "if i just ignore this it'll all go away right" era

yeah with the magic stuff and its aftereffects i think i was definitely influenced by leigh bardugo's grishaverse books - part of the lore in those books is that those who have magic abilities (the grisha) have to use their powers, or else it starts to take a physical toll on them; conversely, using their powers makes them feel and look better. i've always thought that was an interesting concept, like these abilities and practices being so integral to a person that suppressing them takes a physical toll on them...idk where i was going with this but the idea for that definitely came from there haha

alfjdslfj my friends and i always joke about things unlocking shrimp emotions, but i'm glad that i can now add pollywog emotions to the list, since this fic seems to be eliciting those from you. i'm really glad you're enjoying it!! it's definitely been a lot harder to write than other things, but i think i'll be proud of myself once i complete it. i like the slower vibes and the quietness of it

ahhhh thank you for reading my stuff!! seriously it makes my day knowing that you like it and are willing to put up with whatever shenanigans go on in these fics T_T thanks again for you lovely thoughts, and i hope you feel better soon!! :] 💜

[aerial-ace97]

This is going to be an unpopular opinion but I don’t really love that Stranger Things has become just a straight out horror show.  And this is absolutely a personal thing and arguably an issue with me as a consumer than with the show itself but I still feel like a valid interpretation.

I don’t mind horror myself, but my family is not really a fan.  And back in season one this was a show that I could introduce to them without that being much of an issue.  It had horror elements to it, but it was mostly charming and utilizing a more lovecraftian sense of eeriness to it that didn’t fixate on this kinda... gore porn.  And steadily as the seasons have gone on, the horror elements have continued to kick up.  Never though was it to this extremity.  It was self-referential and never really about lets make a good horror show but rather about making an interesting blend of 80s culture, D&D, and horror ‘concepts’.  And the former two were filled with so much charm that it hooked into a lot of people who were never really horror fans but could enjoy it as it was blended in. 

None of those elements came to the extreme as we are seeing in season 4 though, where the show has elevated beyond reference and decided that it wants to be as gruesome as any of the heavy hitters.  For... very little reason.  And yes, the horror elements are definitely still references but they are an uncomfortable departure from season 1 where only four named characters died.  And this is their choice but it feels as though it was a poorly marketed and advertised experience.  It feels as though it no longer cares about the people who were on the fringes of horror and watched the show more for the characters than the over the top violence, which was a huge reason for the shows original success.  It still has charm, in my opinion, though the rest of my family disagrees and I kind of can see there point when you book end both of your first two episodes with these scenes, leaving a bad taste in your mouth, as that is what you think about in the recount.  And I do also think some of the charm doesn’t work anymore.  Some new characters are bringing it but others like *sigh* Mike are really bringing it down.

And number two, this isn’t some criticism that is born out of someone who isn’t used to horror either.  Admittedly, I’ve never been into visual horror but I listen to podcasts, read books, and play games that are horror all the time.  Mostly I listen to things like Magnus Archives or Archive 81 and get most invested into cosmic horror or Lovecraftian genres (those are technically 2 different things that feed into each other) and my latest questline in my D&D campaign is heavily inspired by weird fiction horror.  But I also just... don’t think the horror in Stranger Things this season is very good.  Like it’s hard for me to criticize because I am not into slasher horror gore porn type horror, which if you are all power to you.  I ain’t trying to judge.  But I felt like the show did horror better when it was psychological or in the background, more akin to lovecraftian style when the motivations of the things were far more unknown.  This happened a bit with season 3, but we’ve reached a point now where the pulling back of the veil on these things is becoming less interesting than the theories everyone could have thought up for these mysteries (a common issue with this style of story telling) and the monsters to me have gotten a bit too... tangible and by that in my opinion actually less scary.

I don’t know.  I understand this is an opinion that is probably fairly limited.  But I really enjoyed watching this as a sit down family show, which yeah I do think you could do once upon a time, and now the show has reached a point where that it is losing that spark.

[newtonsheffield]

Hi, I was wondering you could write something about the Bridgerton spouses and them all spending the day together and the Bridgerton siblings wondering where they have gone.

Hello! Hello Hello! 

My god you have been waiting on this for just the longest time, and I am just so sorry! I have no excuse beyond: I am terribly disorganised and unfortunately sometimes I have to deal with my real life. 

So anyway! On with the show! This isn’t exactly what you asked for and I’m combining it with another request, again, terrible! So sorry! 

Anon asked: I love your little headcanon about the Bridgerton wives and their wine night. Do you have sth similar for the Bridgerton husbands too? The Bridgerton Wives Club is truly my legacy at this stage aaaaaaand I couldn’t be prouder of it. 

@esoterrifica was also a little interested in this concept 

And So, without further Ado, it is my greatest pleasure to introduce to you all The Bridgerton Wives Club and their sister Association  (If You’ve somehow missed my post about the BWC here it is here 

“And just where’s my shirt, Katie cat?” Michael Stirling had said nodding in the direction of the remainder of Frankie’s sister in laws wearing their infamous Bridgerton Wives Club shirts, gathered around the table that had been dragged into Violet Bridgerton’s back lawn. Kate raised her eyebrows and said nothing. 

“I’m a Bridgerton wife now as well, I think it’s only fair, don’t you?” He said, a charming grin on his face, Kate laughed brightly.  “I’m afraid, Michael, unless you want to get drunk and discuss breast feeding techniques with us you’re quite on your own.” Michael huffed a little indignantly at the exclusion. as Kate continued  “Besides, Simon was the first of you, he was never invited to wine and Whine night and he’s never minded, Have you Simon?” She called out as she passed. Simon looked up a little surprised, Amelia sitting on his shoulders waving down at Auntie Katie as she shrieked with joy “To be fair, I didn’t know it was an option.” Simon said mildly. Michael scoffed

“See! I’ll make the shirts Kate! Just give me the stencil!” a wicked little smirk twisted Kate’s mouth for a second, her eyes shining in a way that Michael had noticed even made his terrifying brother-in-law Anthony stop in his tracks. “oh no, Michael. I’m afraid now I’m quite looking forward to what you come up with, you’r a creative spirit! Let it fly free!” She said as she bent down without even looking and scooped her daughter off the ground who had been sprinting past in attempt to reach the newly revealed chocolate pudding, clearly intent on dumping it on her brother’s head. Michael frowned

“That’s fine, I’ll just ask Penelope. She likes me.” he said, turning to Penelope who had just arrived to their tiny group. “You’ll give me the stencil so I can make a wives club shirt for myself right?” Penelope’s eyes widened, scooting a little nervously to Kate who was immensely enjoying her own joke  “Remember who picked you, Eloise, and Edwina out of the drunk tank when you were 19 and never told your mother Penelope.” Kate sing-songed happily. Penelope paled a little and then, a smirk formed matching Kate’s  “You’re a clever man Michael, you’ll figure something out.” She said, laughing as Michael tutted and then quickly “And don’t even try to fluster Sophie into telling you!” Penelope and Kate laughed brightly amongst themselves as Generalissimo and Pen AND the Sword joined Sweet but Psycho and The heiress 

“What’s that look for?” Francesca said wrapping her arm around his waist, as an idea formed in his mind.  “Your sister in law is an absolute menace.” Michael said, smiling as he kissed his wife’s cheek.  “Here Here” he heard Anthony muter as he passed, on his way to take his son from... Gareth! “Frankie, I love you, you’re beautiful but I have to take care of something!” He said kissing his Bewildered wife on the cheek as he called out  “GARETH!”

_________________

A week later Phillip Crane was looking at Michael as though he’d fully lost his mind, and honestly, maybe he had. 

“You want me to wear this... in public?” Phillip said a little slowly, Michael nodded.  “Yes, Gareth made them.” he replied, throwing attention to the youngest member of their group, already proudly wearing his creation, the sleeves rolled up artfully his tattooed arms in bright contrast to the white fabric. Phillip tutted.  “I’m a little disappointed that you were so easily swayed, Gareth.” Phillip said resignedly holding up the shirt in front of him. Gareth grinned brightly

“I think it’s great! Excellent idea Mike!” He said, tying his hair back in his signature bun “And, Phil, you know Eloise is gonna love it.”  Phillip’s head shot up at the sound of his wife’s name, a small smile appearing on his face, and Michael knew he’d won. Phillip sighed “Fine, Michael, if Simon will wear his, I’ll wear mine.”  Simon Basset burst through the door, as if on queue, his shirt already on grinning broadly “Sorry I’m late boys, Daph needed a hand with Caroline. Love the shirts by the way, just spoke to Luce and she said she’s on route with the other girls, we should head!” 

Phillip groaned as he pulled the shirt over his head. Michael let out a whoop of joy  “Let’s go boys!”

_______________

Well Well Well, Ladies and Gentlemen it seems The Bridgerton Wives Club now have a Sister (or rather brother) Organisation. Generalissimo, The Heiress, Sweet but Psycho and The Pen and the Sword were Joined by four new members today on their monthly brunch meeting today, and they seemed to have named themselves everyone say a very flustered hello to The Bridgerton Dudes Club Members include Mr Football, Mr Handsome, Mr Flowers, and Mr Manbun Gentlemen of London: Lock up your wives and Daughters!    

Anthony Bridgerton: Have you guys seen this? Kate has been cackling since she got home and I did wonder why.

Colin Bridgerton: Seen it? I was whooping for joy! You know Mum is gonna frame that picture and send it around for the Christmas card.

Eloise Crane: Oh Look at him! Apparently it was Michael’s Idea, Frankie remind me to thank Michael for getting Phil such a tight shirt.

Hyacinth St Clair: Jesus Christ, That man is an absolute idiot. At least this explains why I dropped in to his shop the other day to find Michael and Gareth whispering away like old women. I didn’t think Michael had any tattoos 

Benedict Bridgerton: Mr Handsome? Bit much isn’t it? But also, if Michael has a tattoo Soph might let me get one. 

Gregory Bridgerton: Gareth’s artwork looks better than Kate’s she’s gonna be Pissed. Lucy says Michael does have tattoos but she won’t say where ???? Frankie?????

Daphne Basset: I love Simon but... Mr Handsome is right 👀👀👀👀GET IT FRANKIE

Francesca Bridgerton-Stirling: ... I’m NOT discussing Michael’s tattoos with you heathens. But also... He is Going to Get it tonight. 

Hyacinth St. Clair: YEAH HE IS!!!!  

Anthony Bridgerton: Sadly I can confirm my wife is currently redoubling her efforts on the Wives Club Shirts, partially to spite Michael, partially to spite me. Please don’t tell her I actually like them (looking at you, Greg.) And Young Ladies! Go to bed! 

[gerrydelano]

ohhhhhhh my goddd ok hiiii!!! very good chapter ! enjoyed the leo content as usual i think it’s awesome that he is now vaguely involved w ghosthuntuk !!! i feel so bad for gerry having to deal w raphael bothering him so much.. jon + georgie!!!! they are best friends.. POTS JON POTS JON!!! “little sad boys” pleeeease ! ok it’s tentatively danny ok!! hmmmmm hill house nursing home….. is that in any way related to the haunting of hill house by shirley jackson….. lmaoo danny caught on to that really fast! ohhh danny can see gerry’s alters? that’s interesting… juice box HIIIII MIKE!!!!!!! “I have everything I was missing. Stability, privacy, freedom. At this point, I desire nothing but to stay exactly as I am.” huhhhhh. tim what’s going on!!! for a hot mini i forgot he was end aligned lmao. oops.. mike you bastard what the hell is wrong with you !!? anyways i love the chapter i’m very invested in this

hey hi! thank you, i'm glad you had fun!

danny my best friend danny :-) yeah, him working with melanie on her new channel is a fun concept i think! CryptoCartography is gonna be uhhh. Well. you'll see haha 😄

gerry vc oh reinforcement that this was my fault? all my fault? yeah sounds about right. go ahead and haunt me. except ffuck,,n

jon trusting georgie not to swing him into another street lamp as they travel tipsily down the street: growth.gif

he definitely has markers of that even in canon, but i still keep writing his a little less intense than gerry’s! But It Is There. probably developed after his knee surgery cuz the stress of that would have altered his whole everything, g-d.

delevan was such a nice boy he doesn’t deserve this slander... tho she might be onto something

exposure therapy with tim was slow to start but they’re doin it!

okay the thing about Hill House Nursing Home. is that it’s a real place that exists. i was doing some research to find affordable ones in the devon area and that literally was the one that made the most sense in terms of location, cost, what her needs are, and for a GREAT joke. because the friday the 13th thing was ALSO incidental and hilarious. fated to flirt morbidly!

a very weird quirk of the stranger, yep! that was why he looked at reva so fast when they switched in at the safehouse that first night. surprise!

juicie :-) ducky ily

hi mike (derogatory)

yeah it’s so funny how he doesn’t even remotely think about the parents he super killed or anythi

well, now you remember! his deal is a little skewed from the witness concept that ren lead the charge with, but he’s still very much end (with a few extra touches of things that his closest people have uh. marked him with right back.)

"what the hell is wrong with you" is exactly what tim is asking and mike is like "you literally came here because you know exactly what’s wrong with me and you’re hoping to feel better about yourself” and tim was like “so true”

thank you again!!!! excited for the next one 😈

[one-boring-person]

Could you do a Maverick imagine where the reader is Viper’s daughter and there all having dinner together and Viper’s not too fond of the idea of them together?❤️

I would love to, thank you for requesting! I hope you like this!😊💛

That's Not Overprotective.

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x reader

Warnings: none

Masterlist

Editing Help: @jawline-of-steel (Thanks bro!💛)

The sound of forks scraping on ceramic plates is near enough deafening in the tense silence, no one daring to interrupt It as we continue to eat, mouths moving slowly as we try to prolong the quiet, knowing that things will only get worse when we start talking again. Beside me, Pete sits stiffly, keeping his eyes trained on the plate in front of him, trying to ignore the deathly stare my father, our commander, is sending his way. From my own seat, I glare back at him, trying to get him to ease up on the protective father act, knowing that it is making things very difficult for the rest of us.

"Well, Pete, you say you are in the same class as (Y/n) here, who's your RIO?" My mother finally pipes up, coughing to break up the heavy silence.

"Oh, err, my RIO is Goo- sorry, Nick Bradshaw. His call sign is Goose." The pilot answers pleasantly, looking up at my mother with a smile, knowing that people often like it more when he does so.

"Oh, yes. How could I forget?" She laughs, clearly reminded of all the times I've spoken of them, "(Y/n) has told us a lot about the two of you."

"You have?" He lifts his eyebrows, turning to look at me in slight concern.

"Yes, all good, don't you worry." She reassures him, winking at me as I blush and look back down at my plate, fighting the redness rising to my cheeks.

"Yeah, it's interesting to find out what you guys actually do in your free time. Not as much studying as I would've thought." Viper cuts in, fixing Pete with a sharp stare again.

The two of us tense up again, exchanging a look as the silence falls on us again, my father's words cold and emotionless. For a few more minutes, we all continue to eat, Pete and I slightly more subdued than before, feeling like deer caught in the headlights. Eventually, Pete speaks up again, glancing back at my mother with another one of his charming smiles.

"The food is really good, Mrs Metcalf." He compliments her, sounding genuine.

"Oh, thank you, you're very kind." She laughs, smiling broadly from the positive feedback.

"It's the truth, this is some of the best I've ever eaten!"

"You are sweet, thank you, Pete." She flicks her eyes over to me, winking subtly.

I feel a small sense of relief, knowing now that he has won her over, though I am well aware of the fact that my father will be harder to convince.

"It'd be nice if you were this polite in class." Viper butts in again, shooting both of us a pointed look, "Instead of messing around."

"Dad, can we not do this now? You have all day to criticize us in class so can we at least have the evening off?" I finally interject, fed up with his jibes and snide comments.

"I'm not criticizing you, I'm pointing out a fact." He reasons, training his stern gaze on me, taking a sip of the beer in front of him.

"Then stop doing it, if that's what you want to call it, we never asked for it."

"You wanted my opinion, I'm expressing it. I don't see the problem." He clarifies, before suddenly standing from the table, "Excuse me."

Stepping away from his place, he goes out of the room, the door to the bathroom audibly closing down the hall as he enters it. With a sigh, my mother stands up, too, collecting in our now-empty plates with an uneasy smile, aware of the growing tension.

"I'll just go and get the dessert." She explains, leaving the room and going to the kitchen.

Pete waits for her to leave the room before turning to me, visibly relaxing.

"Your mum made dessert?" He questions, clearly surprised by her hospitality.

"Yep. She loves making full course meals, so you'd better get used to it." I grin, taking a drink from my glass of soda.

"I'm not complaining, her cooking is very good." He compliments again, smiling at me.

"That she is." I sit back in my chair, watching him, "I'm sorry about my dad, he can be a bit overprotective sometimes."

"That's not overprotective, that's just disapproving." The pilot laughs dryly, "I don't think he's too happy about you dating one of his students."

"I guess." I frown a little, upset at my father for being so judgemental.

Noticing this, Pete leans over and takes my hand in his, interlocking our fingers and squeezing gently, trying to reassure me.

"It's not going to put me off, don't worry." He says, quickly moving in to kiss my cheek, only to be intercepted by my lips as I turn my head and press them against his. We stay like that for a few minutes, just letting ourselves enjoy the moment, before pulling away again when we hear the bathroom door open again, signalling the approach of my dad as he returns.

The pilot keeps our hands locked together as Viper strides into the room, the commander taking his place at the table with a grunt of greeting, instantly noticing our contact and lifting an eyebrow.

"You afraid you might fly away there?" He comments, looking at us sternly.

"No, Dad, it's a sign of affection, something you've probably forgotten over the years." I retort before I can stop myself, my hand coming up to clap itself over my mouth, though it is too late.

"I beg your pardon, young lady? What did you just say to me?" The commander snaps at me, brow furrowing in anger.

"Nothing, Dad, I'm sorry." I rush out, quick to try and make amends, Pete holding my hand tighter to try and reassure me.

"Thank your lucky stars I didn't hear you, (Y/n), or you'd be in a lot more trouble." He bites out in response, stating me down as I look at my plate, embarrassment flooding me.

"Yes, Dad, I'm sorry." I bite my lip, annoyed that Pete was there to experience that.

We are silent again until my mother returns to the room with a tray of bowls, which she sets down on the table, handing each of us one with a spoon and fork, signalling that we should start. As we do so, we lapse back into the awkward tension, Pete and I shooting each other a look as we start to eat, thanking my mother for the food again.

My father continues to send us hostile looks over the table, clearly still unhappy with us as he angrily jabs at the food in his bowl, eating it quickly. As he finishes, he watches the rest of us eat up, sitting back in his chair as he sips his beer, brooding over something with himself.

"Excuse me, I'm just going to use the bathroom." Pete excuses himself, breaking the silence as he stands up and leaves the room. As soon as he has left, I round on my father.

"What is wrong with you? Why can't you just be polite?" I exclaim, annoyed at his behaviour.

"I don't know what you mean." Is all he says, acting innocent.

"Yes you do! Can you stop it, please? Or at least tell me why you're being hostile?"

"She has a point, Mike. Why are you being so tense?" My mother chimes in, fixing him with a stare of her own, though she is more curious than angry.

He is silent for a moment, chewing on his lip slightly as he considers how he should answer.

"I just, well, it's a hard concept for me to grasp, that my daughter is seeing one of my students. It's just wrong to me." Viper finally manages, though it is not satisfactory for me.

"It's wrong? How? How is it wrong?" I question him further, getting more and more annoyed by the minute.

"I don't have to explain myself, (Y/n). You wanted my opinion, and I have told you it. Surely that is enough for you?" He manages to keep his tone calm, though I can tell he is just as angered as I am.

I go to reply to him, only to be interrupted by the sound of Pete coming back into the room, the pilot still looking a little uneasy as he retakes his seat at the table.

I close my mouth, but continue to glower across the table at my father, knowing that Pete has figured out that something went on whilst he was out of the room. He shoots me a questioning look, but I only shake my head, non-verbally telling him that I will fill him in later, whenever later is.

At this rate, that won't be for some time.

[planesofduality]

Full Transcript edition:

“The Story Behind Solas with Dragon Age Lead Writer Patrick Weekes” by Dialogue Wheel/Video Game Sophistry

Reblog of one of my first posts ever. I didn’t understand how tumblr worked back then really, and long story short, I split the transcript of this interview  into 3 parts :) I’d probably do things differently now. Reblogging it as a single transcript for my own convenience, as I still refer to some of the things Weekes said here from time to time!

Interview is from before Trespasser DLC; posted to YouTube 12/20/2019 

Note: pseudo-reblog

“Interview with lead writer for Dragon Age Patrick Weekes years ago about how the enigmatic character Solas was created, here is what that magic elf could have up his sleeve for us in Dragon Age 4.” Not my interview, just wrote transcript of questions and answers for reference. 

Full video:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aFx1nCdZFjw&t=1s

Time: 2:54

Solas, tell us about little old Solas. Talking about your other characters you created we always start at the beginning. Pen to paper - How did the idea of Solas first start? What was that first iteration?

So actually Dave and Mike both, you know, we - everyone knew who Solas was - everyone knew what the ending was going to be with him. And, you know, Dave and Mike said, “Well Dave is writing a ton of the crit path, the main part of the game. Dave really wants to do Dorian, that’s very important to him, and are you comfortable writing this guy? Are you comfortable writing someone who is going to be, in some respects, deceiving the Inquisitor for the entirety of the game?” And, honestly, how do you turn that down?

Time: 4:02

So really it was that simple then - from there, in the way you described it, they already had some ideas and some concepts about what Solas needed to bring?

Oh, yeah. Originally, one of the most difficult parts of writing him - and, you know, I said Iron Bull was the one closest to how I originally planned him - Solas and Cole are probably tied for least like how I originally wrote them. And, really, it was getting past the secret. It was getting past Fen’Harel.

Iron Bull: badass former spy, the opposite of Sten.

Blackwall: awesome Grey Warden who is not actually a Grey Warden.

Solas: He’s Fen’Harel…

Okay, can he tell you he’s Fen’Harel? No.

Okay, well what are we going to talk about?

[Pretending to be Solas:] “Hey Inquisitor, I’m still not Fen’Harel, do you have any questions?”,  “I will not take any questions about whether I am Fen’Harel.” That was the big stumbling block of writing him.

I remember the first draft… the first draft all we talked about was elves. It was elves all the time. Every conversation went “Elves, elves… Elves were awesome back in the old days.. Everything was great with the elves.” And then you’d go, “You really like elves huh?” “No, shut up - I’m not Fen’Harel.” And we all kind of looked at that and went, that’s not really much of a character hook. You cannot have a character hook built on something that you only reveal after the play has watched the credits. That is how we got to Fade expert. That is something where, if something had gone terribly wrong, if we were six months from shipped and we decided not to do anything with elves in the future, we could have taken the Dread Wolf out of the equation entirely and a mage named Solas who loves the Fade, is an apostate but without all of the fear and anger that you think of when you think of an apostate, but is just this guy who wants to travel through dreams and find mysteries and explore… that was a good enough character to stand by itself. That is what it took us a couple of drafts to get to.

Time: 7:04

You mentioned the first two phases of Solas - share with us a little more of that journey, when you finally go to this character that could stand on its own. If you don’t mind, a little more of that journey- was it just those first two and now everything’s cool?

First draft was “ ‘Elves, elves’ but ‘I don’t like elves’”. Second draft was about how much to tell. I think in the next draft it was significantly closer. Anyone who looked at that draft - and, you know, I apologize to anyone who looked at that draft - but, anyone who looked at that draft you would find places where “Oh okay that’s the Solas I know and love. There he is. He likes the Fade.” That’s something that’s actually interesting. But, he lied a lot more. And it actually really weakened his character. We played it so close with both Blackwall and Solas - both characters are the liars who don’t actually lie. They will tell you almost truths. With Blackwall - he never actually flat-out says “I am a Grey Warden.” If you ask him what it’s like being a Grey Warden he will say "Well  a warden embodies this and a warden embodies that… I’ve been blessed in my travels.” You know, he never actually quite says “I’m a Warden.” With Solas it’s the same way with the hand wave of ‘in the Fade’. I would start putting ‘in the Fade’ at the end of a lot of sentences.  “Yeah turns out that all of the stuff you thought was true in history was wrong… because I saw it…. in the Fade.”

In revision 2, he lied a lot more. On the one hand it worked, on the other hand it made him less tragic, more of jerk when we got to the reveal. So that is how we got to what we made him into: this character who is intelligent, wise… Solas will think very carefully before he tells you anything and anything he tells you is exactly as much as he wants you to know. That actually led to one of the funny little game moments - one of the last things we do is add the places where characters will approve or disapprove. I think what I want Solas to approve us is you actually asking questions . He’s kind of unique in that regard -  What Solas approves us is people who are interested in finding out knowledge. Whether they are finding it out from him or they’re talking with other people, Solas wants people to explore, he wants people to find information, he wants people to learn. What he disapproves of, honestly, more than what you do, is in many ways how you do it. You can do the thing that he wants you to do, but if you do it in a knee-jerk way, Solas hates that. He wants to know that you are carefully considering your options and taking a measured approach.

Time: 12:16

When it comes the characterization of a character that you’ve already been give at least some sort of name to. We know that this character is some sort of trickster god - when you were trying to develop and make him some a stand-alone character, did you ever have to rely on what the mythos already established of this particular kind of eighth-seat god that maybe a lot people hadn’t heard a lot about?

Well, I think, like we talked about before, one of the great things about the Dragon Age universe is everything that you learn in a codex entry is something that someone else heard in a story and wrote it down somewhere and you’re reading half of the book. So the good news on that is anything we wanted to do with Fen’Harel, there was so little and what was in there was already so sketchy that we had all the freedom we needed to play with him.

That turned out to be a nice thing because I think if we had someone that was completely by-the-books, already established, their character already given, it would feel like more of a letdown to write that as a character or you would have to play against type, you’d have to do something completely different to show he wasn’t just what the stories wrote about him. And, you know, in some ways that is both liberating but also disappointing to people who might have liked  the original stories. This was a fun experience of getting to fill in some of the gaps.

The only thing I think we had to struggle against is that anyone who hears “trickster” or anyone who hears “oh, he’s chaotic and unpredictable” it feels like there is a natural urge to go to “He’s Loki in the Avengers. He’s the guy who’s gonna make large grand-standing plans.” Or, you know, “He’s the Riddler, who’s gonna leave clues to test you.” We had to get away from that: “Let’s tone that back a little bit, let’s not have him be the Jack Nicholson Joker version of the Dread Wolf.”

That’s quite a quote.

You got Dorian as a large, grandiose , extravagant figure and it would have been easy to have him go that way. It was fortunate that we had Dorian as the mage who had the larger-than-life persona already to make Solas be the quiet one.

Time: 15:21

Was there ever an instance where you were really pushed with giving some indicators to the player that Solas may have some connection to this going through the gameplay? Because you do see a lot statues of Fen’Harel. There’s many instances of where you’re discussing it, you’re traveling through those lands. Where do you walk that line, how do you walk that line, or do you just completely disregard it whatsoever?

The goal we had is we wanted the very careful players, the very sensitive players, who were playing attention and watching every scene with Solas to know that something was up and to want more answers and then go to “OH MAN” as soon as the stinger after the credits rolled. But we wanted most players to just go “Oh, okay, he’s like ‘Fade nerd.’ He’s like ‘hippie guy.’”

The other thing we wanted was everyone on their second playthrough, as soon as they talked to Solas to be like “Oh, man, he’s just saying it. He just flat-out said it right there and I missed it completely the first time!” I think we called it the “inevitable in retrospect”- or the “slap the forehead on the second playthrough” style of writing, where we wanted people to see that the most interesting thing about the trickster god is he’s not actually that great of a liar - He is almost telling you a lot of the time. And, you know, some of the tragedy is it that you never had the chance to actually ask, “Wait -are you Fen’harel?”

Time: 17:13

We talked about leaving breadcrumbs, what that meant. Now the big turn, the big scene at the ending:  How did this come about, were you really involved in that sort of process and are you happy with it?

Oh, I’m absolutely happy with it. It went through several iterations,. Mike was hugely involved. The writing was definitely done by Dave; it was a huge crit path moment. He had me give a look at the Solas voice, I think I looked at it, I don’t think I actually changed a single word in the final one.

We had versions where after the main plot it was actually going to be a full plot where you the player went and were actually present when Solas confronts Mythal. We had a part where we said, “Wow that’s too big, a lot of players are gonna miss that, we’ll make it a DLC.” So it was gonna be a separate DLC where that happened. At one point we said “No, this is too big, we actually - let’s cut it and address it next game.” So it was going to be this thing that we pushed off into some future content.

I am really happy with what we went with, because, I think, you know, for my money, that short, little Marvel-style, after-the-credits stinger is what we needed. We needed something so that everyone who was paying attention and everyone who was really invested could go “oh my god!” And go, “Okay, so, just in case you were wondering, we’re not done, we have more stories to tell, and we are confident enough in what we are doing that we are willing to throw that ball.” That stinger is essentially us throwing a football to future us, trusting that we are going to catch it. Because, you know, at the end, we had that level of confidence. We felt that we had that level of confidence, we felt we made a really good game. Dave led an amazing team of writers, and I’m really touched that he has the confidence to believe that I’ll be able to carry that on for him.

Time: 19:49

When we spoke to Dave, one of the big moments that he mentioned, was when he created kind of a long-term idea for what’s going to happen in the Dragon Age universe. And to hear him say it, he mentioned that what he originally wanted for Dragon Age: Inquisition couldn’t happen - it was far too big - it wouldn’t work. And you guys had talked about  taking that concept, finishing Inquisition somewhere in the middle of that concept arc, and then using at least an influence or something like that to affect the franchise going forward.  Speaking with you now, as someone who has taken up the reins, do you know what I’m talking about? Am I talking crazy? Where do you see it going?

Um…

Reasonably - of what you can say on this.

So here’s the last scene of the next game… (laughs). I think there’s an extent to which no plan really survives contact with the audience when it comes to video games. We look at how fans react, we look at what hit, what rang true with everyone. You know, it’s funny, having people react angrily actually isn’t as bad as having people ignore things sometimes. Having people react angrily  means they were definitely emotionally engaged, so you know you hit something there. Whereas having fans go, “I don’t know, fine, I guess, whatever” and move on means, “Okay, I don’t know if that’s what we want to go back to. We didn’t actually get anything from them there, they didn’t actually remember that later.” So that’s a phase that comes after every game we ship. We look at what hit, what missed, and where we want to go from there.

Now that said, Dave’s future plan is, I think, fantastic, epic, and heartbreaking. Our plan is to use that as our starting point. To look at where we want to go, what we want to do, and it will not be - and I, you know, Dave and I have talked about this - it will not be the story that Dave would tell if he were still here as lead writer. Because it could never be that. We can get into that when we talk about Cole a little bit, but if I tried to do that I would just be doing a bad impersonation of Dave Gaider and no one is ever going to be as good at that as Dave is. My goal going forward is to, as lead, put my own spin on that process, put my own spin on the plots going forward, on the thematic elements, while keeping those same thematic elements that we had. Because, I think, what Dave has set in motion in three games, countless DLCs and expansions, is something that can endure: The idea that no choice is ever really that easy and that the great events always stem from human-understandable motivations.

So, that is where I think where we are going to go, as vaguely as I can say.

Time: 23:30

Speaking of specifically to Solas: His continuation of the story. Adding that little “Marvel moment” at the end - what do you think that did for the crit path and the overall arc of the story that players experienced in Dragon Age: Inquisition. Do you think they would have been more satisfied if there was  a DLC or is that just us gamers complaining because we can’t get everything we want right away?

Well, I think you want to leave people wanting more. “Man I wish you guys had done more” is a better problem to have than “Man I wish you guys had done less.” So, I think, looking at it from inside the studio, we didn’t have the resources to do much more than we did. So it was never going to be the big moment right then anyway. From my perspective, the reason I’m really happy we have it is, like I said, I thought it was a vote of confidence. The team is still the Dragon Age team and it is still the writers and designers who did everything else, who made such wonderful characters and were responsible for such fantastic plots.

Time 25:10

Well, again, looking at that in its completion, it’s good to see that even a character that needed to give you a stinger in your estimation didn’t take away, I guess, from the overall story you were trying to tell.

Well, thank you. Yeah it was obviously the moment we were building toward, but again, the goal was even if we didn’t have that stringer, he was still an interesting enough character that people would have not felt cheated that he was in the party.

Time: 25:35

One of the most beautiful scenes I think in Dragon Age Inquisition is the scene that you get with Solas if you play as a female elf Inquisitor. Talk a little bit about that choice to have this romance option very, very specific. It’s race- and gender- specific. Why that scene - what that scene meant and a lot of the subtext, because it is a very rich sequence of scenes, not just one. And, I think it’s really one of the most interesting romances in the game.

I love that scene because that scene for me shows how far we’ve gone past - not the make myself irrelevant anymore - but how far we’ve gone with the digital acting. Jonathan Epp the cine-designer for that scene put it together and when you take everything that Gareth David Lloyd - the voice actor - everything he did on his lines. And just putting so much tragedy, and making it clear in every line that he wants to say more than he can. And with Jon Epp the cine-designer, just in the wordless scenes: showing the tragedy, showing the heartbreak, showing how much he does genuinely care against his better judgement, and how he finally forces himself to step away.,

You know how I said when we were talking about the Iron Bull - everything, every major moment we do, is there for a specific type of player fantasy fulfillment. And you know, not all types of fantasies are the happy ones. There’s a reason why The Phantom of the Opera was on Broadway for so many years and it’s not because it has a happy ending.

The Phantom of the Opera isn’t exactly the theme for the romance -  the razor was something closer to almost professor and student in some ways. He definitely comes across as a mentor in some ways. When he finally steps back it is him beating himself up, not you, saying “Wow what I have done here is actually really unfair to you, and you, player, at the time don’t know that I’m beating myself up because I’m actually  1000s of years old and not the person you think I am and it’s disrespectful to you for me to continue this relationship.” So it’s a very moral perspective for our ancient, quasi-evil, trickster god to come with.

Time: 28:41

And it’s amazing because it’s another instance of content that so few players would actually get an opportunity to see. When it comes to making it that specific, I guess, why was that choice made? Because usually a lot of your content - most of the Dragon Age content - it’s very easy to get really rich, wonderful characters right in your face and have those wonderful “eat-em-up” experiences, why for this one was it such a steep price to get in?

You know, I won’t lie, a lot of it came from some of our designers. Some of the women in the design department really, really loving his voice and saying, “You are absolutely fools if you do not make him romance-able in some capacity.” And, really, his story overall is - and, you know, I think we’ve only hinted at that but I think we have hinted at it enough that I can at least say this part of it - his story isn’t a happy one. His story is one, where, if you look at him and Mythal, there is clearly some grief, there is clearly some tragedy. And, adding in the option - even for players who don’t take it - on my end as a writer,  knowing that some players will have this as a star-crossed, forbidden romance, you know, it makes him more sympathetic. It’s important to me as a writer because when you’re writing about someone who, according to Flemeth, is at least somewhat responsible for the bad guy getting the magical item that he used to blow up half a mountain in the prologue, it’s important to have something in there that you can always have, as a writer, look at as your touchstone and go “This is a real person. This is someone who experiences sadness. This is someone who falls in love.” Even if he doesn’t do it with that Inquisitor on that playthrough, this is always someone who can be like that.

Time: 30:58

Where do you see a character like Solas ending up?

(Big sigh) Musical theater.

(laughs) Right when we reach those beautiful moments, Patrick!

I think that it is fantastic that people have emotionally engaged with Solas and I hope we get a chance to explore that in some future content.

Alright and that’s the most that we’re getting right now.

Time: 31:37

Oh, and here’s a little tie in: Here Lies the Abyss, the demon that spoke to Solas - what was all that about, what was that going on?

Oh yes - the demon who speaks perfect Elven!

Yes perfectly to him, and if you remember any of that - did you have anything to do with that?

Yes, Here Lies the Abyss was mine. It was a fun plot. It was a terrifyingly difficult plot, because - I’m not sure how clear this is to players that have one done one playthrough or with one import state - but your key characters throughout the events at Adamant Fortress and then the events of the Fade, it’s a customizable Hawke. Which means it could be a male Hawke or a female Hawke and within that, Hawke from Dragon Age 2 is characterized by one of three different attitudes: friendly, grim, or sarcastic. So, that’s three attitudes times two genders, that’s six different Hawkes and three different possible Grey Wardens: Alistair, Loghain, or Stroud.  So, the process of going through Adamant Fortress and then going through the Fade was a crazy juggling act of trying to keep track of “Okay, now one of these five people, these five Schrodinger’s cat quantum people, will say this line, and then another of these five Schrodinger’s cat quantum people will respond with this line.”

It’s important to remember that as we went through everything in Adamant Fortress and the Fade was taking place in that contest. There was a long period time when we were looking at that really going, “Okay, I just have to hope this actually makes sense when it’s nothing but Alistair and my sarcastic female Hawke.”

But, to actually answer your question. As I recall, the Nightmare, who as a friendly, chipper guy was basically - I do basically two types of villains: I do the villain who thinks he or she is the hero, and is misguided and has opposed goals, and is kind of tragic and tortured in that way. And then I do the mean-girl villain who says snotty high school insults.

That’s it - that’s the gambit.

Well, just about, yes. I’m looking forward to see who writes the villain in the future Dragon Age games - so get ready for either tragic pathos or really, really good high school mean-girl zingers.

As I recall, he was speaking Elven to Solas and if I remember right, he said, “Your pride is responsible for everything that has gone wrong” and I think he said “You will die alone.” And then Solas said something that translates to either “Nothing is known for certain” or “Not necessarily.”

And what does all that mean?

Well I think it’s fascinating that people are emotionally engaged, and I hope we have the chance -

It was a very asked question - it was a question that was asked a lot. Specific to that.

Oh, I’m not surprised, and I hope one day that we can tell you. But, obviously, that demon knows that Solas is hurting and Solas feels guilty about some stuff and really wanted to dig in there, and Solas was shouting back.

Literally just describing what happened (laughs). All right, so something that will clearly be talked about in other games.

TIme: 36:22

Dealing with this particular quest I really think that this was one opportunity to involve the Grey Wardens in a story, and a world, that kind of progressingly, after the first game had less and less of a need to exist - let alone in the world - but in the main characters arc. Talking to David I remember initially there was some idea for this particular mission they would just fall into the hole and be hanging out in the Deep Roads, and having out with the dwarves, so tell us a little bit about this creation.

A lot of the process of writing these large plots, like I talked about the razor, you figure out what the core concept is, you always start with a lot of things, and in most cases what you then end up having to do is cut. And if you’re not someone in the studio, talking about having to cut things sounds like you’re losing awesome content, you’re ruining what would have been clearly the best part of the plot. Inside the studio though, most cases what you’re cutting is the stuff that didn’t actually help tell the story you wanted to tell.

So yes in the original version, in a very early draft, actually this was before I was actually on the plot - this predates me - there was, yes, going into the Deep Roads, and when you fell in instead of ending up in the Fade you ended up down in the dark. And finding out what the Grey Wardens in this version of the story had been involved with the Architect from Dragon Age: Awakening. It was an interesting direction, and it was, I think, a very cool direction, but it did not help tell the story of the Inquisition. It was more a story of “Hey, if we wanted to do more with the Hero of Fereldan, here is an interesting place we could go” and it did not help tell the story of “What is the Inquisition doing?” “What is Corypheus doing?”, “How do these two organizations bounce off each other and who’s caught in the middle?” So trying to come to terms with the Grey Wardens in this game not being the protagonists, not being the group that is in the center of the action but being the group that is caught in the middle of this power struggle was something that led to us having to eventually do the re-jiggering that got us to the plot you saw.

[clumsyclifford]

hello!!! so i would be very interested in a fic based on all i want to hear you say by sea girls??? i know i’m promo ing them a lot but i think it could be a good fic concept??

you know what’s wild meg is i have had this prompt in my inbox for fully almost seven months and i was just reaching a point where i figured i would never write it. and then i did. so there’s your lesson in never deleting a prompt am i right

thank you @allsassnoclass for your invaluable feedback i love you

read it here on ao3

-

Calum only sees it because he has Luke’s Twitter notifications turned on, although if Michael asks, Calum doesn’t even know Luke’s on Twitter.

@LukeHemmings Tweeted:

missed u manchester!!

At which point he does the only logical thing: he excuses himself to the bathroom in the back and hyperventilates for about five minutes. And then he does a second, decidedly more idiotic thing.

“...Hello? Calum?”

“Hi, uh,” Calum clears his throat. “Hi. Luke.”

It is Luke on the other end. Somehow he hasn’t changed his number. Not that people typically change their numbers after only a year, but Luke is different. Luke is famous now. Not like Calum, whose band has been playing this bar since he was old enough to drink here. Since they were old enough. 

Calum wonders what would have happened if Luke had never left. Maybe the band would have gone somewhere. Now he’ll never know.

“Calum,” Luke says. It might be wishful thinking, but Calum is pretty sure he sounds happy. “What’s up? Haven’t heard from you in a while.”

Yeah. Since Luke moved to London. Well. Since Luke got cast in a play in the West End and relocated in less than a week. Calum knows exactly when they last spoke was, and not only because there’s a time stamp on the text messages. Luke’s play — okay, the play Luke is starring in — had been a smashing success, and after he’d left Calum on read three times in a row, Calum had gotten the unsent message loud and clear. 

He’d thought they were the kind of friends distance could never conquer, but apparently he’d been mistaken.

Now he’s not sure what to say.

“Yeah, sorry,” he manages, awkwardly chewing the inside of his cheek. “It’s, life got busy, you know, uh, you know how it is.” Duh. Of course he knows how it is. He’s fucking Luke Hemmings. If anyone’s going to understand life getting busy, it’s Luke. “I just, I saw you were in town.”

“Oh, yeah,” Luke says, laughing a bit. “I am, yeah. I should’ve called, my bad.”

“No, no,” Calum says quickly. “It’s — no worries.” Lucky I’ve got you on Twitter notifs, isn’t it, he doesn’t add. “How long are you here?”

“Just the weekend,” Luke says. “I go back on Monday.”

It’s out before Calum can stop himself: “D’you want to have lunch or dinner or something?” He swallows. “While you’re here?”

Someone knocks on the bathroom door. “Calum?” Michael. Fantastic. The last person Calum needs to hear from right now.

“Give me a minute!” Calum says, kicking the door. He winces. “Sorry. Mi— I’m, uh, possibly hiding in the bathroom. During my shift.”

Luke huffs a laugh. “I’d love to get lunch or dinner or whatever,” he says. It doesn’t even sound like he’s lying. Then again, this man is nominated for an Olivier. He could convince Calum he was interested in diving into an active volcano.

(He certainly managed to convince Calum that he was interested in him, so Calum should probably know better by now.)

“You could come to our show,” Calum says, because he’s petty. Or a fucking masochist. It’s possible to be both. “The band, I mean. We have a gig on Saturday night?”

“Oh!” Luke sounds surprised. Probably because he hadn’t anticipated the band staying together after he’d left. This isn’t fucking Take That, Calum thinks bitterly. Maybe being famous has gone to Luke’s head more than Calum had originally thought.

Except then Luke says, “Shit, I’d love to come to a gig. I’ve missed you lads. You want to get dinner before? After? What time is the gig?”

And Calum’s right back where he started: hopelessly infatuated.

“Gig’s at six, so yeah, dinner afterwards,” Calum says. He shifts nervously on his feet. “Don’t get excited. Our venue hasn’t changed.”

“Still the pub?” Luke sounds fond. “Aw, I miss that place, though. I’m looking forward to coming back.”

You don’t need an invite, Calum thinks. You can just show up.

That might not be true anymore, though.

“Sure you can handle it?” he says drily. “I mean, you’re not worried about crazed fans?”

Luke laughs awkwardly. “In a cheap bar in Western Manchester? Think I’ll be okay.” Calum’s trying to work out whether that’s a subtle dig when Luke adds, “Look, I’ve gotta run, actually, some — press things, but, uh, I’ll be there at six.”

“Great,” Calum says. “Fantastic. See you then.”

“See you then,” says Luke. He hangs up. Calum puts his phone in his pocket and stares judgmentally at himself in the mirror.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he mutters, rolling his eyes and turning away to return to his job. 

— 

The fucking A string is fucked up. Calum has been trying to tune his bass to no avail — no matter how much he turns the tuning peg, the tuner won’t declare it a clear A. “Michael,” he says sharply, “my bass won’t tune.”

Michael materialises, his guitar slung over his shoulder. “Because you’re turning the wrong fucking knob,” he says. Calum looks over at his fingers. 

Oh.

“Oh,” Calum says embarrassedly. He moves his fingers and tunes the A string, then moves to the D string, which has gone completely flat thanks to Calum’s mistaken fiddling.

“You’re all nervous because Luke’s coming,” Michael says, shaking his head to let Calum know exactly how he feels about that. “Stop worrying about it. He didn’t give a shit about the band when he was in it, he definitely won’t give a shit now that he’s out, alright?”

“Not helping,” Calum says, glaring. “And that’s not fair to Luke and you know it. He cared about the band. What was he supposed to do, not accept a life-changing opportunity?”

Michael just rolls his eyes. They usually avoid discussing Luke. It always ends with Michael disparaging his name and Calum jumping to his defence, with Ashton stuck uncomfortably in the middle. Ashton had only been in the band about two weeks before Luke left — he’d never gotten the chance to know Luke. Calum also suspects Ashton just doesn’t want to get involved, because it had been clear to anyone in the room during rehearsals that Luke loved it. Calum doesn’t blame him for leaving. 

Just because he misses Luke like a lost limb, doesn’t mean Calum holds it against him.

“Whatever,” Michael says. “Long as he doesn’t try to rejoin.”

They could use Luke in the band again, but Luke’s more likely to dive into that active volcano than ask to rejoin the band, especially if Michael’s got that look on his face. “Yeah, Mike, I promise I won’t let the Olivier-nominated Luke Hemmings rejoin our band if he asks,” Calum says flatly.

Michael makes a face. Calum makes one back. 

“Boys,” Ashton interjects, sensing the tension lifting. “Less flirting, more setting up, please?”

Calum immediately throws an arm around Michael’s shoulders and grabs Michael’s head. Michael doesn’t protest when Calum smacks an exaggerated kiss to his cheek, because he’s amazing and the best friend ever. “But father, I love him.”

Michael clutches Calum melodramatically in return. “You can’t keep us apart, Ashton! You’ve been against intra-band love since the very first, but Calum’s the only man for me!”

And then he dissolves into giggles, taking Calum down with him.

“I can’t fucking stand the pair of you,” Ashton says, grinning wryly down at them.

“Someone’s jealous,” Calum snickers. “Mikey, I think Ashton wants in.”

“Hey, Luke’s here,” Ashton says. Both of them jerk upright like soldiers called to attention. “Sure, Luke can get you to behave and he’s not even in the band anymore, but when I ask it’s like talking to a wall? I see how it is.”

Michael kicks at his cajón. “Fuck off.”

Calum tries to turn subtly without looking like he’s turning. Sure enough, Luke is standing at the bar, chatting with Alex who’s behind it and preparing a drink. Probably a tequila soda. That had always been Luke’s order. He glances over at the stage and catches Calum’s eye.

Calum might as well be a year younger for how it still feels to meet Luke’s gaze.

This isn’t the Luke that left a year ago. Calum hadn’t expected that Luke. The news feeds have provided him with both mental and literal images of this new Luke, Luke Hemmings of the stage. Swanky clothes. Longer hair. Gone are the lip piercing, the ratty snapback that used to hide what Luke deemed “bad hair days” as if his hair ever looked different, the beaten trainers. If Luke looked worse, Calum would feel better.

But Luke doesn’t look worse. He just looks good in a different way. In fact, he looks better. More importantly, he looks far too expensive to be hanging around this sketty pub. Despite seeing photographs of him online nearly every day since his departure, Calum is taken aback by how much has changed in a year.

He’s not equipped. That much is clear. This had been a mistake. Calum’s going to open his mouth and instead of saying hello he’ll say I can’t believe you became more gorgeous and  you’re back just to mock us and laugh at the band you used to front and make me feel like even more of an idiot for thinking you liked me.

“It’s six,” Michael informs Calum, tapping his shoulder. Calum whips around, startled. The neck of his bass almost knocks over the mic stand. Michael raises an eyebrow. “We can start playing, yeah?”

“I’m ready,” Calum says. Michael gives him a Look. “I am,” Calum repeats. “Are you?”

“Yes,” Michael says huffily. He steps up to the microphone and turns it on. Calum takes his spot at his mic and waits for Michael to introduce them — “We’re 5 Seconds of Summer, and we hope you like our set!” — before going straight into ‘Unpredictable.’

He tries not to watch Luke for the whole set, but he can’t really help it. Not only is Luke the most magnetic person in the bar no matter how much it fills up, he’s also sitting directly in Calum’s line of sight. Intentionally? By coincidence? Calum decides he doesn’t want to know. Because it’s probably the latter. 

He does see someone approach Luke for an autograph and a photo at one point, though. Which is so weird that Calum forgets his next lyric and Michael shoots him another Look. 

The audience grows slowly throughout their set; Calum recognises a lot of the regulars, smiles and waves to the ones who smile and wave first. Behind the bar, Alex air-guitars along to their cover of ‘What’s My Age Again,’ as usual. Before Calum knows it, they’re playing their last song.

There’s no pretending they wouldn’t be better with two guitarists instead of just one, but Calum has to admit: as three-piece bands go, they’re pretty fucking incredible. Even if they never make it big, Calum can rest easy knowing it’s because of bad luck, not lack of talent. 

“Thank you so much,” Michael says into the microphone. “We’ve been 5 Seconds of Summer, check out our Facebook page for information on future gigs.”

“Thank you, everyone,” Calum contributes, then steps away to let the scattered applause wash over him. 

Luke is clapping loudest of all. He would do that, as an alumnus of the band. If bands can have alumni.

When the attention of the room at large moves away from them, they set to taking apart and packing up their equipment. Calum is coiling up the cord for his bass when someone taps him on the shoulder.

“That was wicked,” says Luke. Like they’re not the first words he’s said to Calum’s face in a year. Calum stares at him. His face is glittering. Oh. That’s makeup. It’s shimmering on his eyelids when he blinks. Gold, sparkly. Pretty. Does Luke wear makeup now? Or is he only wearing it tonight because it’s a special occasion? Even though it’s really not a special occasion? It must be the former. Luke wears makeup now. He doesn’t post a lot on Instagram — yes, Calum has notifications on for him there, too — and when he does it’s usually show-related stuff, in show makeup. Point being Calum’s earlier theory is once again proving itself true: he is not equipped.

“Thanks,” he says after he’s made is sufficiently awkward with his fucking staring game. He smiles. “Could’ve probably used another guitarist, but we do alright, yeah?”

Luke ducks his head. Great, really well fucking done, Calum. Way to guilt him. “I’m teasing,” he hurriedly assures Luke. “Thanks for coming.”

“Do you need a hand?” Luke gestures at the mess of cords around Calum’s feet.

Calum opens his mouth, but Michael, unfortunately, beats him to it. “We’re okay,” he says, stepping forward. “Hi, Luke. Nice of you to make an appearance.”

“Michael,” Calum hisses.

Luke bites his lip. “Hey, Michael. It’s, uh. You guys sounded sick, I was telling Calum.”

Even Calum can hear the no thanks to you on the tip of Michael’s tongue. “Which I agreed with,” he says, looking at Michael like be fucking civil. “Because we did.”

“Yeah,” Michael scoffs. “Well, Cal, if you want to go on your date, Ash and I can handle the rest of the cleanup.”

Calum frowns and blushes at the same time, which feels funny. “I’m — I can —”

“Honestly, go,” Michael says, sighing. “If it’ll get Luke out of here, then go.”

“Jesus Christ, Michael,” Calum snaps. “Get your head out of your arse, would you? If you’re offended that Luke took an opportunity for success, then one of you is a dickhead and it’s not him.”

Michael’s face hardens. He snatches the half-coiled cord out of Calum’s hands. “Go,” he repeats. It’s not a request this time.

Calum grinds his teeth and turns to Luke, who’s frozen in place with a pained expression. 

“Ignore him,” he says tightly. “He’s been a dick about the whole thing. Let’s just go.”

Luke hesitantly follows after Calum. “I didn’t realise —” 

“Great set!” Alex calls, wiping down the bar. Calum manages a smile just for him. 

“Thanks,” he says, then glances over at Luke. “Yeah. I reckon I should have warned you.”

“I meant it that I’ve missed you lot,” Luke says mournfully. “I mean, I knew he wasn’t pleased, but…I sort of hoped he’d have gotten over it? Not that— I know I left, so I did ask for it —”

“Luke, come on. Don’t be thick.” Calum scoffs as they leave the bar. “It’s a Michael problem. He just thinks it’s an Olympic sport to hold the longest grudge or something. I love him, but he’s a fucking arsehole when he wants to be.”

“I — I know, but…” Luke sighs. “Yeah. I guess.”

The evening air is cool. Around them, shops and street lamps flood the road with illumination. The gold on Luke’s face catches the light like it’s being paid to do it. Calum only glances briefly at him before looking back at the pavement ahead and asking, “So…what do you fancy for dinner?”

“I seem to recall a Maccies this way,” Luke says. “I know it’s not the most elegant of places, but…”

“Say no more,” Calum says. “You never need to convince me to get Maccies.”

— 

They sit across from each other, quiet for a few minutes as they both devour their burgers. Luke’s nails are painted with clear gloss. Calum isn’t sure if it’s the theatre effect or just the London effect that’s given him this extra glamour. Or the fame thing. Which is still decidedly strange. And also reminds Calum:

“Congrats, by the way.”

Luke looks up, confused. “Huh?”

“On the Olivier nomination,” Calum says. Luke smiles. “That’s a big deal.”

“It’s, uh, yeah. A bit.” He laughs. “Okay, a lot. It’s mad. Thank you.”

“You deserve it,” Calum says. “The play’s —” No. Nope. That’s not something he wants to admit to. “I’ve heard it’s good,” he amends quickly, but it’s too late. Luke, who is the definition of selectively perceptive, squints.

“Have you seen it?”

Calum presses his lips together. His silence could probably speak for itself, but whatever. “I saw it last month,” he confesses. “My mum got us tickets, me and her and Mali.”

Luke stares. “And you didn’t think to tell this to me? Or ring me while you were in London?”

“You didn’t ring me when you came here,” Calum retorts. 

Luke bites his lip. “Touché. But why didn’t you say hello?”

Calum huffs a laugh. “You ignored my last three texts, Luke. I know how to take a hint.”

At this, Luke smacks his palm to his forehead. “Fuck. Shit. Fuck. I never replied to you. I’m so sorry. I kept reading them at the worst times and then forgetting to respond. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“I’m really sorry,” Luke repeats. “I didn’t mean to fall out of touch, honest. I just…”

“Got busy,” Calum finishes. “I know. You don’t have to tell me. And look, not for nothing, the play’s bloody brilliant. So your hard work hasn’t been in vain.”

“God, I’m a fucking idiot,” Luke says, like he hasn’t heard Calum speak. “Just the other day I was thinking of you. Wondering why you never reached out. I figured you were upset at me for leaving. Like Michael.”

“What? And you didn’t think to shoot me a text, maybe?”

“I thought you were cross! I didn’t think you would want to hear from me!”

“Luke —” Calum breaks off and shakes his head. “Can’t believe I thought you were any different when you’re actually the same fucking moron who left here.”

“Hey,” Luke halfheartedly protests. “Fucking moron who’s nominated for an Olivier.”

“Oh, excuse me,” Calum says, rolling his eyes and grinning. Luke laughs almost to himself. “Look, it’s okay. We’re good now, yeah?”

Luke nods. “Promise to text you back from now on. And if I don’t, it’s not because I don’t want to hear from you. Just keep texting me. I’ll — I’m —”

“Don’t tell me you’re busy,” Calum says. “I know you are. I read the articles. How you find the time to do interviews and also a show eight times a week is beyond me.”

Luke quirks his lips. “You read those?”

“Of course I do,” Calum says. At first it was just to see if you’d say anything about me, he does not say. “Number one Hemmo fan.”

Luke laughs. “You didn’t even wait at the stage door to say hello. You’re nowhere near the number one fan.”

Calum scoffs in mock offence. “Yeah? Do your other fans know your drink order? Do they know who your first concert was? Do they have your phone number?”

“That’s not being a fan, you idiot, that’s being my friend,” Luke says, laughing.

Calum waves him off. “Same thing.”

“So what have you been doing?” Luke prompts once he’s polished off his burger. The napkin crinkles in his hands when he wipes his fingers, an action which becomes entirely pointless as he munches on the oily chips that had come with his meal.

“I still work at the bar,” Calum says. “Mike and I both. My, uh, my life is basically the same, honestly. Except we get paid slightly more to play now.”

“You should be playing the O2,” Luke says. “You’re really good.”

“Yeah, well.” Calum shrugs. “Can’t all have our dreams come true.” 

Remorse crawls over Luke’s face. Shit. Calum isn’t doing it on purpose. It’s just that sitting here, eating greasy fast food, it’s so easy to forget that they live in different worlds now. Passerbys peering through a window at them could surely tell, though. Calum’s Rolling Stones shirt and black snapback are no match for Luke’s carefully styled curls and leather jacket. It’s not a ratty leather jacket, either, but one of the really nice ones. Probably Gucci or something equally outrageous.

It doesn’t mean Calum’s any less smitten. Just that the crater between them might be too vast to cross, and Calum keeps forgetting there’s a crater at all until he nearly trips over the edge. Moments like now, where the look on Luke’s face is that of a kicked puppy. 

“Calum,” he starts, but Calum shakes his head.

“Never mind, sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You did a bit, though,” Luke says. “Right? You wouldn’t have said it if you didn’t mean it a bit.”

“I’m not guilting you for doing what you love, Luke,” Calum says firmly. “I’m not. Anyway, I’m doing fine. Better, even. Don’t get a guilt complex, please. I’m happy for you, I’m happy myself, everything is fine.”

Luke grimaces and stuffs several chips in his mouth. Calum chomps down on one of his own. It’s a bit soggy but at least sufficiently salted. Not the best chips he’s had, though far from the worst.

“We left things a bit weird, though, didn’t we,” Luke says, staring determinedly at the table.

Calum nearly chokes on his chips.

A bit weird is probably the right way to put it. Calum’s been rejected in some pretty harsh ways, but having the boy in question pack up and move to a whole new city had been a first for him. If it had been a clear-cut rejection then maybe Calum could have handled it. It was the uncertainty that had done him in. Maybe that’s why he never made a real effort to stay in touch.

It’s one thing when your friend won’t answer your texts. It’s another when you really thought that friend had been into you, only for him to turn around and announce that instead of going out with you he’d be moving to London.

“I don’t mind if we just move past that,” Calum says now, hoping in vain that his voice won’t betray how much he has not moved past it. He’s an adult. He can be friends with someone he also fancies an embarrassing amount. He hadn’t intended to mention the whole will-we-won’t-we thing they’d done just before Luke had left. There’s not a lot to say about it.

“Do you mind if we don’t move past it? Yet?” Luke says nervously. “Can I say something and then we can move past it if you still want to?”

Calum swallows. What the fuck could Luke possibly have to say about it, other than to maybe apologise for leading Calum on the way he did? “Uh, I suppose?”

Luke clears his throat. “Okay. Well, um, I just wanted to say that…I think when I left, that you maybe got the impression I was turning you down. And. I wasn’t. At all. I didn’t want to leave you, it was just what made the most sense, being in the play and everything. Um, and I didn’t really say anything because it wouldn’t have been fair of me to tell you I liked you when I was also moving four hours away — like, I didn’t want to do that to you.” He laces his fingers together on the table. “But you, um, seemed. Hurt. And I didn’t know how to tell you before, so I’m telling you now, it wasn’t because I didn’t like you. I did. I do.”

Calum must forget to breathe, because it’s dead silent around them. Luke finally looks up and winces. “Also, this isn’t a guilt trip, so like— if you have a boyfriend now, that’s— sorry, I guess I should have checked?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Calum says. “The bloke I was hoping would be my boyfriend decided to move to London and become a star, and I haven’t exactly gotten over him yet.”

A small, tentative smile pulls at Luke’s lips. “Really?”

“You sure took your time clearing that up,” Calum says. His heart is beating unreasonably fast, but he thinks it’s probably excused on the basis that the boy he’s fancied for two years and who would’ve broken Calum’s heart had Calum gotten the chance to share it with him is now returning his feelings. Exhilaration flutters around his chest, and he smiles. “But yeah, really.”

Luke’s face breaks into a genuine smile. He pushes a strand of hair behind his ear. “Oh, thank God. I thought after this long—”

“Underestimating just how much I like you, obviously,” Calum says. Luke brightens like a fucking spotlight. “Though it’s been the same amount of time for you, so if I have problems, then so have you.”

“Who’s got problems?” Luke says. “This is the opposite of a problem. I’m thrilled.”

“You do still live in London,” Calum points out, because again: masochist.

A shadow crosses Luke’s face, but it quickly disappears. “That’s— it’s only four hours.”

“Only.”

“Okay, it’s—” Luke squeezes his eyes shut. “I don’t— shit. Look. I know it’s not practical, okay? But can we just pretend it is? So this isn’t a complete loss? I’m here until Monday morning.”

“One whole day,” Calum says. “Lucky us.”

“Yes,” Luke says decisively. “Be my boyfriend for a day, Cal. We’ll figure it out from there.”  

Every objection Calum has flies from his mind at Luke saying be my boyfriend. Struggling to maintain his composure, he hedges, “Really? You want to have a boyfriend who lives in Manchester and works in a bar and doesn’t even know how to identify what makeup you’re wearing? Which looks fantastic, by the way? And did I mention the whole living-in-Manchester thing? You know, four hours from London?”

Luke fixes him with a look. “Yeah, I want you to be my boyfriend, Calum. And all of the things that includes. It’s worth it to me.”

And. Well. Shit. “It’s worth it to me, too,” Calum admits. 

Maybe if he’d said that a year ago, Luke would have listened. Maybe they’d have gotten here much sooner. But at least they’re here at all.

Luke reaches across the table and his lips quirk up. “That’s all I want to hear you say.”

For a moment, Calum imagines that life is easy. Luke could always leave the show. Move back to Manchester. Spend late nights and early mornings in Calum’s flat (having made up with Michael, who splits Calum’s rent and living space). Do his makeup in their bathroom mirror and explain it all to Calum as he goes. Rejoin the band despite Michael’s initial stubborn grudge, and finally reclaim his role as lead singer, finally doing justice to melodies Calum and Michael could never quite sing the same way. If Luke had never been cast, Calum wonders if that’s how their lives would be. 

But it’s not how their lives are, and Calum doesn’t want that anyway. Luke is doing what he’s born to do, and Calum would never forgive himself to pull him away from that. He doesn’t want it to be easy. The fact that Luke knows it won’t be easy and is willing to take it on anyway means far more, to Calum.

They can figure it out.

He laces his fingers with Luke’s and squeezes once, smiling when Luke smiles. So much is different, but fuck if that’s not the same beaming, blushing smile that’s always been just a little too big for Luke’s face. There’s hope for them yet. Calum can feel it.

[gayenerd]

Another old article saved in a Word document, which I can only find behind a paywall now (but I linked it in case someone does have access to a subscription)

Green Day Rising Metal Mike Saunders, Bam, 28 January 1994 Popcore Ascending? Or Is That Just The First Phase Of 'The Greatest Band In America'?

'We were down in Irvine and Mike was having a pillow fight outside with his girlfriend. He was running away from her, and at the top of his stride he turned around, right into a horizontal beam five feet off the ground – Vhoom...Out cold. So that suggested the concept of ...misery.'– Billie Joe

WHERE IT all it the brick wall for me personally was 11th grade carpool. Four high school boys jammed into a VW bug, or worse, with the AM radio on for about 20 minutes en route to Hall High, Little Rock.

It was the season of the great Bubblegum Wars, that pint in time where the underground FM vs. plastic AM trench wars had reached the point of no return. Kids vs. pigs, rednecks vs. longhairs. Combat was the order of the day, even in music.

In the fall of 1968, the musical lightning rod was 'Chewy Chewy' by the Ohio Express: 'Turn it off' and 'Turn it down' were the majority opinions. I was for sure the only one going 'Turn it up!' The same routine was repeated just a few weeks later with the Archies and the 1910 Fruitgum Co. (the later with the classic top-five hit 'Indian Giver'), and it seems like ever since that point in time 'pop' has been a derogatory term. Something less than…what? 'Rock'?

What does this have to do with Green Day? Well, it’s like this: There’s this real lame tag – 'popcore' (say it once and erase it forever, pul LEEZE) that was kicking around for a while last year and was affixed to the East Bay trio’s style of music. Aw, hell, they’re just a great rock band.

If Santa came and went recently and there’s still no Green Day in your house, here’s a shopping list: 39 Smooth (Lookout!), Kerplunk (Lookout!), and Dookie (Warner Bros./Reprise). Forty-eight killer tracks by this country’s greatest band and, considering that only in the preceding 12 months did its members start to hit drinking age, possibly just the beginning of what could turn out to be an amazing career.

Proof is no farther away than the band’s new album, Dookie, its first for a major label, but proceeded by two LPs and three 7-inch EPs on Berkeley’s Lookout! Records.

Anyone who’s seen the threesome knows they can play like gangbusters; the difference between a tiny indie-label budget (try about $3000 for all 34 Lookout! Tracks combined) and a major-league endeavor is that for the first time you get proof 10 times over on tape. So you get raging guitar sounds and cracking snare rimshots that explode like the early who. Even the band’s chronic shortcoming – weedy studio vocals – has been corrected to an encouraging degree.

"Yeah," volunteers 21-year-old lead singer/guitarist Billie Joe, "for my vocals we used a Beyer microphone, which was used on some of the early Elvis Costello stuff. I’m really happy with the way it came out."

The entire album is a veritable role model for any guitar-heavy rock band. Says producer Rob Cavallo: "In the case of a raw, live-sounding record like this one, what I try to do is capture on the listener’s speakers the whole left-to-right stereo spread – what we heard in preproduction, listening to the band blast away in their practice room. The key to this, in Green Day’s case, is that they have such a focused idea as to what they sound like, and they’re great players in that style."

Specific elements of Dookie’s production style include a live rhythm guitar on every song, singletracked lead vocals only, and all vocal harmonies done by the second-stage voice, 20-year-old bassist Mike Dirnt.

Warner Bros.’ hands-off role, a characteristic of the company in the wake of its Mudhoney "creative control"-type underground signings, was crucial in shaping such a record. "Warner Bros. stayed out of the way and let us do exactly what we wanted to," says 21-year-old drummer Tre Cool. "All I can say is if you can get on Warners, you are one lucky son of a gun!"

The inclination to make a guitar-heavy record was present from the get-go. "I definitely wanted to get a bigger sound," recalls Billie Joe, "something with more meat to it." Which is achieved, in parts thanks to a borrowed vintage 1972 Marshall head hooked up to the same blue Stratocaster Billie Joe’s been battering since he was 11.

The wall of guitar sound was achieved with a live track and just one more rhythm guitar dropped in. "We had experimented a bit on previous records, stacking guitar tracks to try to get a thicker sound," recalls Billie Joe. "But this time with just the two rhythm guitars; we got a better distorted sound."

Like any other trademark-sound band, it’s the deviations on the record that are most interesting. We’ve got three here: 'Pulling Teeth,' 'When I Come Around,' and the album’s first single, 'Longview,' 'Pulling Teeth' leaps out of the album like a K-Tel cut buried in a techno set; it’s the tune Dave Edmunds never had to break his career Stateside. Tight harmony vocals frame a straight guitar-heavy country-rock melody with a conciseness worthy of the masters. Not one wasted word or second.

"We were down in Irvine," recalls Billie Joe of the song’s lyrical genesis, "and Mike was having a pillow fight outside with his girlfriend. He was running away from her, and at the top of this stride he turned ground – vhoom…Out cold. So that suggested the concept of…misery."

'Longview' hits a whole opposite style. It’s something you might imagine as a late’70s FM track, with a loping dumbo beat ("a rumble," suggests Dirnt) not too far off Tom Petty’s 'Breakdown', Lyrics about nothing, really-killing time, punching the cable remote, getting high. A two-chord riff to nowhere, then a basic garden-variety three-chord chorus. The trick is that the whole darn song is a hook. Simultaneously the dumbest and catchiest Van Halen guitar licks panning across the speakers.

"In a way, that song was cheap self-therapy for watching too much TV," recalls Billie Joe. "It was another case of writing about whatever mood I’m in."

Especially near to my heart (I’m from the South, y’all ) is 'When I Come Around,' an unintentional dead-on-evocation of Lynyrd Skynyrd at its top-40 hookiest. With a lazy turnaround beat like 'Sweet Home Alabama', it’s just about five degrees westward of the slightly ‘70s ballads 'Christie Road' and 'No One Knows' from the earlier Kerplunk album.

"On that one, we weren’t thinking country rock, but rather something that had a groove to it, almost like you could imagine having a martini and listening to it at the same time," explains Dirnt.

See, 80 percent of Dookie is in the trademark Green Day raging pop-punk. It’s this deviant 20 percent that makes one suspect they can pull off almost anything they want out of the trash-dump of earlier under appreciated rock styles. A mainstream audience could forge a very, very interesting alliance with this group.

Of the trademark pop-punk onslaught, averaging an airtight two minutes, 30 seconds apiece, 'Basket Case' and 'Sassafras Roots' are two of the strongest numbers. 'Basket Case' was about a friend who’s pretty loopy,' explains Billie Joe, 'but a bit about myself as well – like seeing your own trails in other people where it’s been taken to a total extreme. There are a lot more songs on this record that are about other people’s experiences, even though I might still be singing in the first person.'

The recording of Dookie went fairly fast by industry standards, the music and vocals finished last summer in three and a half weeks (at Berkeley’s Fantasy Studios), followed by an initial mix. The band then headed out on 40-date fall tour with the veteran LA punk band Bad Religion, which enabled them to come back to the project with a clean set of ears. The entire album was remixed with engineering whiz Jerry, Finn who paid special attention to the record’s amazing bottom end. At that point, the band’s 'creative input' reached its most extreme.

"We all three sat there for 10 days straight, 15 hours a day, and listened to every minute of the remixing sessions," recalls Tre Cool. Which is just short of four working-Joe (like me) work weeks without a day off.

Dookie is one of the rawest melodically oriented rock records to show up on a major label in the last zillion years. Usually when bands go from an indie to a major label, the result is a slicker product.

"When I listen to bad rock music occasionally, I just wind up going, ‘What the hell were these guys thinking of?" agrees Billie Joe.

I speculate that there have now been entire generations’ worth of bad drum sounds committed to record. "Huge room sounds on the drum with shitloads of reverb," responds Dirnit. "Flanged drum rolls," adds Billie Joe.

My favorite, rolls across the chromatic-tuned rototoms, comes in a close second.

While most bands with almost 50 tracks into their recording career hit the point of labored songwriting (that old saw about a band’s first album being its best), that hasn’t been the case with Green Day. "Actually, I think I was more comfortable with my songwriting on this record than I ever was before," insists Billie Joe. "I had a real good handle on what kind of melodies and hooks I wanted to come up with. Didn’t rush myself, just let them come out naturally. It was the previous time out, on the songs on Kerplunk, that I was consciously trying to outdo my previous songs."

The variation from Green Day’s uptempo style, now comprising a good one-quarter of the band’s most recent two albums, will continue. "We definitely are going to continue to expand the scope of our material; we don’t want to get into a rut where we rewrite Kerplunk or Dockie over again," explains Billie Joe. "There’s a lot of musical tastes that run through this band."

I did my homework on the band’s "song-about-girls" label (a tag, Dirnt complains, 'we got caught up in') going back to January 1992’s Kerplunk and assigning topics to each song. The tally was girls, four; mortality/meaning of life, three; neurosis/insanity, one; one novelty song; and alienation, motivation, and coming of age, one apiece. Dookie is more of the same, with topics ranging all over the map, the median perhaps being the pissed-off frame of mind of 'Chump' and 'F.O.D.' The girl-songs ratio is down around 30 percent.

The "girl-songs" tag must have sprung from what was the band’s classic 1990 debut, 39 Smooth, written and sung by Billie Joe and Dirnt at the ripe old ages of 17 and 16. A good 70 percent of the album’s songs related to the opposite sex, with the lead off track, 'At the Library', ranking as perhaps the best song ever written by a high-schooler.

One facet of a Green Day performance that’s impossible to capture on paper is the continuous bantering and riposting between the band and the crowd, much of it hysterical.

"It’s all part of making our audience feel like they’re at home, communicating on an eye-label basis," offers Billie Joe.

"See, before a show we’re usually making fun of each other – making a mess by playing baseball with apples or whatever, meeting new people who are funny and have jokes we haven’t heard – so we’re totally stoked by the time we get onstage," elaborates Tre.

It’s safe to say that after two trips to Europe, half a dozen ('at least') full American tours, and over four years of nonstop gigging, performance anxiety does not figure into this band’s equation. "We never have a list, we just make it up as we go," explains Tre.

I offer my theory that no matter how many fans a band has, there are five times as many people who think they stink, and 10 times as many who don’t care.

"I would see it as three different sections: the people who really like you, the people who really hate you, and the vast majority who are totally oblivious," muses Billie Joe.

The vast size of the record industry contributes to making yesterday’s barely gold act today’s 'Who?' (think Britny Fox, Vixen, and a half-dozen gold Loverboy albums). Indeed, if everyone who ever made fun of Motley Crue videos were assembled in one place, we would surely fill the Oakland Coliseum.

Speaking of videos, the world doesn’t faze our subjects – not yet anyway. "We’ve never done a video. They’ve got us scheduled to do one, so for now we think videos are cool," laughs Tre.

"We’re probably shooting the video in our house," adds Billie Joe, the "house" being what appears to be a subterranean Berkeley abode, complete with a tiny band-practice room; it’s not squalid, it’s absolutely slacker). "So…we figure our video concept will be kind of ‘Looks That Kill’ meets ‘Hot for Teachers’ meets 'Rock You Like a Hurricane'," quips Dirnt.

Given the absolutely superb quality of the band’s Warner Bros. debut, the only mystery is that a major label bidding war on Green Day took so long to materialize.

"Warner Bros. was the label initially considering the band," recounts band co-manager Jeff Saltzman. "But it was when Geffen and Sony/CBS jumped in with serious interest that Warners got serious about picking up the band."

Green Day never would have gotten so much done so fast, however, without the astute ears of Lookout! Records’ president and perpetual talent scout, Larry Livermore, who sent the band into the studio two months after first seeing the trio to record an EP called 1000 Hours, which was followed by the 39 Smooth album, which was recorded at the end of 1989 for less than $500.

"I knew Al Sobrante (Green Day’s drummer through mid-1990) from Isocracy, so I knew about his new band, Sweet Children [renamed Green Day six months later]," recalls Livermore. "My band, the Lookouts, were playing a house party up in Mendocino County, February 1989, so I invited Al’s band up to play also. I was so impressed with the band and their attitude, playing just in front of 15 people, that I hooked up with them immediately to record for Lookout! I never had any doubt about their potential, musically. I thought they were great the first time I saw them."

© Metal Mike Saunders, 1994

[emorish-avian]

a handful of random lil things that i am currently planning to put in my rewrite that might change later but also maybe not, who knows:

- gazzy puts aside his own struggles and emotions because he knows max is dealing witj A Lot and he doesn’t want to complain because he’s a Trooper! a Strong Kiddo! his issues are not important right now because there are Bigger Things to Deal With! and then this all culminates in Very traumatic interesting ways

- also gazzy gets struck by lightning because Angst And Development (does this sound over the top and extra as hell? yes. will it make sense with the plot? also yes)

- fang acquires a crowbar and keeps it, because it’s a useful weapon... but mostly because of the pun. it’s a CROW bar. how can he not? (in wvw it’s confirmed that his bird dna is from a crow lol)

- iggy’s intelligence actually being shown and expanded upon oh hell yeah we stan an actual genius

- also iggy is edgy and fang and nudge help him bleach and tone his hair so that it’s white, because ~the aesthetique~

- nudge throws knives because i love her and it’s what she deserves. she also in fact does this with extreme accuracy because she can in fact control metal and i FULLY intend to have her actually USE her ability. fang is jealous bc like duh. throwing knives is cool as HELL. anyways god i love nudge

- speaking of nudge, ella hears how the flock constantly tells her to stop talking and she’s like. “girl you LIVE like this??????”

- and also speaking of their powers... the flock actually USES them. what a concept

- dylan cannot read or write (at first). he can see really fucking well, wow that’s so cool doctor gh, but have you considered TEACHING HIM TO LIKE. READ SENTENCES. PERHAPS

- lmao

- The Illiterate Duo: ari and dylan

- The I Have No Sense Of Personal Identity Gang: dylan and maya (clone problems amirite)

- angel gets actual development and real human emotions and shit instead of being the textbook Adorable Creepy OP Child Trope

- nino pierpont is actually a bad guy! haven’t decided to what degree yet, but he definitely ain’t good

- the “you’re not my dad, i’m LITERALLY in a tank and you’re not” meme. haven’t decided with who yet tho lol

- y’all remember mike, the hacker guy? yeah he’s gonna play a bit more of a part in the series. also jp never specified his race so he’s not gonna be white. representation babey. same with ratchet. canon race not specified so he ain’t white either

- iconic duo of super smart characters of color with a promising future who fell of the rails due to the system failing them: mike and ratchet (whos probably gonna go by rat because i can do what i want)

- iggy’s whole “can see when everything is bright white and also sort of underwater” thing is stupid so we’re not doing that. however he is going to use echolocation because that’s cool as fuck. hell yeah.

- despite an earlier post about not including total in the rewrite i think i will, because like. the way he’s introduced is one of the VERY few things about maximum ride that i love. “yeah he can talk but he’s not that interesting lol” angel sweetie that is the FUNNIEST fucking thing anyone has ever said oh my GOD

- fang does, in fact, listen to 100gecs

- waverwings is set in modern times (ignoring current events bc fuck major historical events this is escapism babey) so the flock? gen z. except maybe angel and gazzy i think they might be gen alpha, idk. so basically what i’m saying is.... tik toks. fucking. tik toks

- oh and also gen77 kids? making SO many memes about being gen z and gen77.

- “oh you’re gen z? well i’m gen z AND gen77. get on my level, pleb.”

- snl wants what i have

anyways there’s a fuckton more and none of this probably makes any sense because there’s little to no context, but you know what? sometimes i just gotta be incoherent. and i think that’s beautiful ✌️😔

[haro-whumps]

Box Boy Plurality: 02

Second whumpee won the poll. Be warned, this chapter’s a longer one

CW: Dehumanization, slavery, creepy + intimate whumper, brainwashing, manipulation, illegal business practices

Tag List: @thatsthewhump​ @whump-it​ @ashintheairlikesnow​ @fairybean101​ @finder-of-rings​ @comfortforthepain​ @shameless-whumper​ @that-one-thespian​ @burtlederp​ @castielamigos-whump-side-blog​ @raigash​ @im-not-rare-im-rarr @spiffythespook​ @whumps-the-word​ @frnkieroismydaddy​ @whumpity--whump--whump​ @michelleswhumpyreblogs​ @jo-castle​ @newandfiguringitout​ @lumpofwhump​ @infested-with-blood​

Masterlist

Ren looked up from their work computer, eyebrow arched. It wasn’t time for Yanni to come in and complain about the broken clasp on her phone charm, which Ren would ever-so-generously offer to replace for her. She wasn’t due to notice it until her midafternoon coffee break, since she wasn’t overly invested in checking the thing during work hours. 

It wasn’t Yanni, unsurprisingly, but it also wasn’t anyone Ren could say they recognized. Oh, sure, they’d seen the man’s face around before, but they’d never spoken with him, and they weren’t even sure what department he worked in.

“Mx. Pavlish, is it?” he said with a friendly, though nervous smile. He was an okay actor, though. They could only discern his nerves due to their practice at it.

“Hello,” Ren said, carefully, pleasantly neutral. “I’m afraid I can’t recall us ever meeting.”

“Ah, we haven’t spoken,” he said, taking the somewhat-cramped office chair they kept available for visitors and dragging it over to their desk. “My name is Mike.” 

He offered his hand for shaking, and Ren inwardly cringed at the feeling of his sweaty palm against their own. They took a squirt of hand sanitizer immediately after, and Mike chuckled with a self-conscious little rub to the back of his neck.

“So, Mike, what brings you here?”

“I work in security,” Mike said, and Ren felt every nerve in their body become immediately alert. “I know, uh, about your little ploy.”

Blackmail, then. He was here to blackmail them. They very, very carefully sized him up. 

“And what ploy, exactly, is that?”

“You unplug the ethernet cords to Jasmine’s and Cassandra’s computers just so you can be the one to fix them,” Mike stated, and Ren’s eyebrows shot up.

“You’ve been sitting on this for a while,” Ren mentioned, “I haven’t done that in going on three months now.”

“Wait have you been doing something else?”

“Is that relevant to this conversation?”

Mike chuckled again. “I guess not. But hey, listen, I get it. We all want to impress pretty ladies, right?” He gave Ren one of those nudge-nudge wink-wink kind of smiles, and Ren tilted their head consideringly. Maybe not blackmail? His tone and mood weren’t exactly right for it, but Ren couldn’t rule anything out. “Look, my cousin’s friends with Jasmine, I could have her set you two up on a ‘blind’ date, if you want.” Mike even made the little airquotes around the word. Precious.

“And why would you do that?”

“Because I’ve kinda got a favor I’d like to ask you?”

Hm. Wishy-washy. The threat of tattling on Ren for the sabotage hung, but distantly, left on a backburner that Ren could be aware of but neither would necessarily acknowledge, while Mike offered a perceived reward instead. Ren lifted their finger to their lips, pressing it horizontally along the line.

“I’m listening,” they stated evenly, curious.

“So, I saw you on the news. And your box boy has been, ha, everywhere. And you’re kinda like, the model citizen of whumpee-ownership, yeah?”

Ren blinked slowly, and said, “I might be.”

“God, ha, kinda cagey aren’t you?”

“I prefer to know what I’m dealing with. Continue.”

“Right, so,” Mike shifted in his seat, hands moving from the armrests to scratch at the side of his nose and then back on the armrests, “the law states that pets cannot be held legally accountable for crimes they committed under past owners. The idea is that the new owners will discipline them better, yada yada, behavioral psychology babble, you get the drift. Anyway. I am in possession of a particularly… let’s say, criminal box boy. Defiant and loudmouthed and it turns out he’s been getting into trouble while I wasn’t looking. Ha, pretty embarrassing for a security guard, huh?”

Yeah, no way in hell this guy hadn’t been using his pet to do the things he was too chicken-shit to do himself. It was a smart move, though, Ren would give him that.

“So basically, I need to do some... let’s call it whumpee-laundering. Change hands before the cops get the dna work back. He’s a good lad, y’know, don’t want anything bad to happen to him, much less for him to get locked up. So, howsabout you, oh model pet owner, take him for, what, a week? Two weeks? Just long enough for things to simmer down. I’ll take him right back off your hands as soon as this whole mess blows over, and I will definitely get you a date with Jasmine. Yeah?”

Ren stared at him contemplatively. Definitely not blackmail, this guy was in a bad way, and didn’t want the cops to have custody of a defiant whumpee that would talk the moment it was taken in. He needed Ren to say yes to this deal. But contemplative silence on a man already squirming in his seat worked wonders to sweeten the deal.

“And hey, I mean, he’ll be legally yours, right? So, like, whatever you wanna do to him while he’s at your place, you can do it. I mean, as long as you don’t kill or sell him, I do want him back. But like, if you wanna, fuck, I dunno, chop off his arm or some shit? Be my guest. As long as I get him back alive I don’t care, no restrictions, right? It’ll be fun, he’s got a pottymouth but if you gag him he’s not a bad looker, all things considered.”

Ren hummed, tapping a finger up and down against the back of their own palm, hands clasped loosely in front of their chin, elbows on their desk.

“Say, Mike?”

“Yeah?” he answered eagerly, body jumping lightly in the chair, sitting up straighter.

“I appreciate the offer to set me up with Jasmine, but I actually have no interest in dating her. You’re right; it is the simple act of showing off that I like the best.” Mike visibly began to panic, and Ren took a small mercy on him. “But there is something you have that I would be deeply appreciative of receiving.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“I want full access to company surveillance cameras and audio recorders, on my devices, and no record of my permissions.”

“Oh.” Mike blinked, and then grinned. “Oh! Oh, yeah, of course, easy as pie, I can so do that for you. So you’ll take him? Tonight, ideally?”

“When I meet him, I will assess him,” Ren stated. “If I perceive that he is any threat to my own box boy, the deal’s off.”

“Oh, oh no, I’m sorry, I gave the wrong impression!” Mike said with a much more relaxed laugh. “He’s got a defiant mouth but he won’t act up. His bark is way worse than his bite, don’t worry, he isn’t a fighter.”

“I’ll see that for myself, but very well. Bring all of his paperwork with you,” Ren said as they wrote down their number on a notepad. “Text me. I’ll send you my address. Meet there at 5:30, and no earlier. Bring any disciplinary tools you own along with him.”

“Not gonna use your own?” Mike asked with a glance at Ren’s hand sanitizer. 

“Don’t own any. I have the blindfold and sensory deprivation hood that came along with my pet’s box, but I haven’t used the blindfold since unboxing him and I’ve only touched the hood to put it away somewhere in the basement.” Actually, where had they put that thing? “My pet is too well behaved for such things.”

Mike whistled. “Nice. You get an expensive model?”

“Well, he wasn’t cheap. But he was exactly what I wanted.”

“Ooo, custom?”

“In training. His appearance was already precisely suited to my desires.”

Mike laughed and extended his hand again, before seeming to think better of it and he shot Ren a two finger salute. “I’ll see you tonight then.”

Ren nodded in return with a pleased little. “See you tonight.” Ren thought of one last thing. “Oh, and Mike?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you told him that you only plan on selling him temporarily?”

“Ah, no, just recently came up.”

“Don’t tell him this isn’t a permanent arrangement. He’ll be easier to mold, that way.”

“You’re the boss,” Mike said with double pistols, and left their office.

The moment the door closed behind him, they pulled out a notebook and began jotting down a list of pros and cons. Their agreement had been deeply tentative, not that they’d let Mike know that. They would thoroughly scrutinize the concept, and then rigorously test the box boy himself once he was brought over.

The idea of having someone to yank around, though. To punish, perhaps with some of the tools Host had listed in their disciplinary video… Ren swallowed, their mouth watering. Skin that they could pinch and cut and bruise, not deeply, nothing permanent, nothing too mean. Someone they could sink their claws into and throw away in a week or two, leaving their home unblemished and perfect, just Soren and them. Just a quick little fix. Just a nice little treat.

The potential cons outnumbered the pros, but the potential pros were of a much higher quality.

They drove home quickly that night, bidding Yanni a very short goodbye, citing business that needed attending, and they weren’t even lying.

“I bet you just wanna get home and cuddle your boy,” she teased them, sticking her tongue out.

“And I bet you’re going to do the same to your babe,” Ren teased in return, wiggling their eyebrows at her. Yanni giggled and admitted to being guilty as charged, and didn’t whine or cling any longer. See? Convincing her to get her own pet had been such a wise decision. So useful. 

“Soren!” they called the moment they walked in the door.

“Exalted!” Soren called back, and they noted the sound of a hair dryer cutting off. “You’re home earlier than usual!” Soren said as he rushed down the stairs. His hair was still a little damp, they noted, as they pulled him into a hug.

“I am. I have a big evening ahead,” Ren stated, handing him their lunch bag and prying off their jacket. 

“What’s on the agenda, Exalted?” Soren asked, hanging up their jacket for them and following them into the kitchen.

“Tonight, depending on how introductions go, we will be adding a new box boy to the house.” Ren snorted, pulling down a glass and opening the fridge, digging around for their ginger ale. “Well, a used box boy. I’m taking him off a coworker’s hands.” They “casually” glanced over their shoulder to see Soren’s reaction, and he was white as a sheet.

“E-Exalted? I, I don’t…”

“Soren, baby?” they asked sweetly, pretending not to understand.

“If-If I haven’t,” Soren stuttered shakily, eyes wide and vacant, staring somewhere far past the kitchen tile, “If I’m not, pl-pleasing you, if this, is,” he raised a shaking hand to his hair, a front lock, one of the beautiful portions he might have turned into bangs, “is about, what I almost did, I’m sorry, I can do better, I can be better, please, I don’t--I can’t--please, Exalted, I just need to know, just tell me and I’ll do it, I want to, I, I need to, please, just tell me, tell me anything I’ll do anything Exalted please, please, I can be good, I want to be good! I want to, I want to be good, I want to, Exalted, I want to be good for you just tell me please I’ll do anything, I’ll do anything!”

Ren sipped idly at their ginger ale, not bothering to mask their face with concern or pity when he clearly couldn’t see them anyway. God, he sounded so pretty like this. Tears budding up in his eyes, his hands shaking so visibly, his body trembling in a more subtle, yet equally delicious way. It was all so perfect to watch, to listen to as he broke down. They knocked back the rest of their drink and set the glass down on the counter.

“Soren, angel,” they crooned, face twisted up artfully and voice sweet as honey. They gently pried Soren’s hand from his hair and placed it on his collar, which made him gasp, eyes blinking rapidly, immediately grounding him. They caressed his face, then tilted it up. Petting at the lock of hair he’d just been tugging at, they smiled pityingly. “My sweet little bird, no no. You haven’t done anything wrong, pet. I’ve forgiven you for hurting me so badly, it’s in the past my darling angel, weeks in the past. My precious, sweet Soren, shush now, shush. Nothing bad is happening to you. This will be a good thing! Just because I’ll have a new plaything doesn’t mean I’ll neglect you, Soren, sweetheart. And you’ll have someone lower than you on the pecking order! Won’t that be nice?”

“I--I--”

“Shhhh, Soren, shhhhh, shush now. It’s okay, it’s alllllll alright. You’re my favorite, darling, you’ll always be my favorite plaything, don’t worry.”

“Th-thank you, thank you Exalted, thank you.”

“There, there’s a good boy. So well mannered, saying exactly what you’re meant to.” Ren hugged him tightly, too tight, but only just a little. “Don’t forget, my pet. You will belong to me forever. You will kneel at my feet only, you will eat only when I am the one to give you food, you will never set foot outside this house without me and you will never belong to anyone else. You’re mine, mine alone, and mine forever, Soren.”

“Yes,” Soren said, sounding grateful and relieved, just like he was meant to. “Yes, Exalted, thank you, thank you so much.”

Ren grabbed a fistful of hair and kissed him, and he kissed back eagerly. 

“Soren, tell me you love me,” they ordered sweetly, and Soren beamed. 

“I love you, Exalted! I love you, Ren!” He leaned against them and they let him. “I won’t ever love anyone as much as I love you, Ren.”

“I know you won’t, my angel, you’re so good.”

And that was when the doorbell rang.

“Right on time,” Ren mentioned with a glance at the kitchen clock. “Come along, pet, let’s go interview our new potential plaything.”

“Yes, Exalted.”

Mike looked no less awkward standing up than he did sitting down, Ren thought, as they opened the door. He held himself like an adolescent trying out for theater who had no idea how to act and was in possession of limbs too long for his body. Behind him and to the side, a box boy carried his box on his back, looking very much like he was about to be crucified or somesuch.

“Come in,” Ren welcomed, “Take off your shoes.” Not that it mattered. The boy was filthy and bloody. Every room he set foot in would need to be thoroughly cleaned. Honestly, Mike couldn’t have even given him a bath before bringing him over? He really was in a rush.

“Set the box down; let me get a look at you,” Ren ordered. They observed the box boy, a young man with short (ugh) brown hair, too short to even grab efficiently. Nothing to yank him around by, and no time to grow it out. Whatever, they'd just have him wear a leash or somesuch. Brown eyes, tan skin, ambiguous ethnicity. Somewhat muscled, but half-starved and visibly exhausted, so he moved with a weakness. He let the box thunk down on the carpet, and when he raised his eye he met Ren's boldly. 

“Position two,” they said with a snap of their fingers, and they heard a pair of knees hit the floor before they saw the new boy kneel. They turned with surprise and saw Soren kneeling, which prompted them to laugh. 

“Oh no, no, Soren, angel, sweetheart, no. Both of you, position one. Soren, now, listen--haha! You just stand there and look pretty okay?” They pet his hair, admiring the way he flushed with embarrassment over his mixup. “You just stay put right here and watch. I'm interviewing the new boy and testing his behavior, alright? You stay put.” They kissed him and turned back to the boy. He was, at the very least, standing in position one, his chin tilted up just a little too high for submission but that was something that could be beaten into him. “Position six,” they ordered, and he held out his wrists with a silent glower. But, ah, to listen to his breathing, was that fear they could detect?

He was bruised and bloody and tired, in all ways just in a horrible state of disrepair. He would require so much fixing, and honestly that thrilled Ren. They took his barcoded wrist and read off the numbers tattooed underneath it. 843-902. 

“02, huh?” Ren mused aloud. “I think that’ll make a fine nickname for you.”

“Oh, his name is--” Mike started, but Ren cut him off. 

“Irrelevant.”

02’s nostrils flared. “If I'm going to buy him, and I think I will, then the creature he was before coming into my service is entirely irrelevant.”

“Oh, good, you'll take him then?” Mike asked, sounding nervous and relieved. Ren delighted in how much control they had over him, at that moment. 

“I'm not done deciding yet.”

Mike’s flash of nervous panic was so delicious, really. As was 02’s confliction. He didn’t know if he wanted to stay with Mike or be taken by Ren, aww, how cute.

“State your type,” Ren ordered, and 02 snarled. Honest to god snarled. Ren had to swallow, salivating at the thought of how much fun it would be to break that.

“Fff-” 02 choked on his own word, conditioning clearly warring with whatever it was that he was trying to do, and Ren arched an eyebrow. “Fuck you.”

They saw Mike twitch agitatedly in their peripheral, but didn’t pay him any mind.

“Position five.”

02 dropped like a rock, his forehead actually hitting the floor, and Ren chuckled. His Processors had done well with him, whoever they’d been, but not quite well enough. The image was all too clear now. Mike had bought himself a box boy, discounted for his bad mouth, and used his excellent behavioral obedience in order to commit whatever crimes he’d forced the boy into, while tolerating his naughty little words as nothing more than a background nuisance. Or, given the bruising, knocking him around for the disobedience, but never bothering with legitimate training.

“State your type,” Ren repeated, their tone taking a special quality that meant firm disappointment. Soren eeped behind them, and they got to watch 02’s chest seize.

“Combination, Ren.”

“Oh no, darling,” Ren said with a laugh, “You don’t get to call me by name.” They nudged his temple with the side of their foot and stated, “Position two.” Once within range, Ren gripped his chin and forced him to look at them. “You will refer to me exclusively as Exalted, or, if you feel I am in a particularly good mood with you, you may call me Honored One. My name is not to come out of that filthy little mouth of yours. Not until we’ve cleaned it thoroughly. Understand?”

They released his chin but he continued to hold their gaze. “Yes,” he stated, “Honored One.”

“Aww, Mike,” Ren cooed, turning to him. “He thinks he’s cute,” they intoned, sounding very much charmed, like a child had just fallen over while dancing. 

“I know he’s got a big mouth but he really does obey,” Mike assured.

“I can see that,” they said airily. “Come join me in my office, we’ll discuss price and the paperwork. 02, take your box down into the basement and stow it in the back corner of the laundry room, on top of the other one there. Take Position two in the center of the room when you are done, and wait. Soren, heel pet.”

They led Mike and Soren away from the foyer, not checking if 02 was obeying and not needing to. He might hesitate or linger, but Ren knew with full confidence that by the time they were done signing the papers and lightly harassing Mike for the evening, 02 would be exactly where they’d told him to be. 

“Actually,” they said at the door of their office, turning with raised index fingers. “Soren, baby, why don’t you go ahead and get started on dinner for us, mm?” Ren kissed him and patted his cheek sharply, twice. He nodded, worrying his lip, but scampered off to do as he’d been told.

“He’s beautiful,” Mike commented, before Soren was entirely out of earshot. “Even prettier in real life than in the ads, and I mean, wow,” he said with a chuckle, “you know?”

“I do know,” Ren said, gesturing for Mike to take a seat as they closed and locked the door. They pulled up their surveillance cameras on their computer, turned away from Mike, and got their scanner ready to make copies and digital files of the documents. “Did you bring the tools I requested?”

“Sure did,” Mike said, patting his backpack. “Retractable cane, whip, two different gags and a muzzle, which, heh, he hates so much, let me tell you. Handcuffs, too, those too.”

“And the documentation,” Ren prompted, watching him pull them out of the bag.

“You are, heh, quite the presence, you know that Ren?” Mike said as he pulled out a manilla envelope, a cheap blue folder, and some--GOD--loose leaf papers. The fucking audacity, really. The messiness, the lack of professionalism. He couldn’t have haphazardly shoved them into the cheap folder? He really had to go around carrying official legal documents loose leaf? Their BLAW405: Filing and Organizational Systems professor would’ve made a five minute ordeal of tearing this poor, poor fool a new one. Ren tried to make themself pity Mike’s incompetence, because it was just about the only thing preventing them from feeling an unseemly amount of rage.

“Like really, I’m a security guy, you know? I’m kind of hired because not a lot of people intimidate me but you’ve just got this, uh, aura, I guess? Just sorta the way you talk and hold yourself and--oh, yeah, you just, yeah go ahead,” he cut himself off as they took the papers from him and skimmed over them, sorting them into some semblance of a reasonable order to be holding these files in, and read over them quickly but carefully one by one. They were familiar with most of this--they did, after all, possess a box boy of their own--but it never hurt to be thorough.

“I have a certain way with people, it’s true,” Ren commented idly as they shifted through the papers. “Sign here. You’re quite fortunate I am in possession of a notary’s stamp and can forge an impressive signature, you know that Mike?” Ren asked, pulling the stolen (well, illegally purchased. Their mama was a persuasive woman in her own right, and there was little on the black market she could not or would not acquire for her child, at their asking) stamp from one of their locked drawers.

“Oh, fuck, we gotta get a notary for this?”

“Some countries do not require it, and I hear the American legislation on transfer of ownership even varies from state to state, but our homeland is a little more meticulous in these matters. But like I said,” they took the signed paper from Mike and aligned the stamp carefully, before bringing it down with a satisfying thunk, “you’re in luck.”

“You are,” Mike said, chuckling nervously, kind of breathy and rather high, “really something, huh Ren?” They loved his discomfort.

“Mm,” they hummed, pleased, preening a bit, but hey, they deserved to. “Sign here.”

Four signatures later, Ren tapped the stack of papers against their desk, bringing them all nice and neatly in line, and then set them into their copier. “Now, the access files I requested?” Ren prompted, extending their hand. He unzipped an interior pocket in his windbreaker and produced a thumbdrive. “Perfect. You’ll have 02 back as soon as you’re ready for him.” Their copier whirred to a halt and they took the stack of copies from the tray, then slid all of them into the manilla folder, rather than breaking them up like a moron. They held it out for Mike and flashed him a darling smile. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.”

“Yeah,” he said, sounding a little dazed, taking the folder like it might get up and start moving. “You, you too. Ha, wow, you are efficient.”

“It’s why I have the job I have, and why I lead the life I live.” Ren stood and ushered Mike out of their office, then out of their home. “See you next time.”

“Yeah, thanks again!” he called, and they waved with a bright smile.

“Exalted?” Soren said behind them once they shut the front door, “Dinner will be ready in 40 minutes.”

“Perfect, Soren. I’m going to go greet our new addition, you may come if you want to.”

“Yes, Exalted, I would like that,” he said, wringing his hands anxiously. They placed their palm on top of that worried movement, and Soren stilled instantly.

“Shhh, pet. Remember, you’ll always be my favorite, alright?”

Soren nodded rapidly, but did not appear soothed. Hmm. “A-are you,” Soren hesitated, searching for the words. “Are you going to punish 02 for his defiance, Exalted?”

“I am,” Ren admitted easily. Soren twitched, distress increasing. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re worried for him?”

Soren nodded. “You’ve always been so good to me, Exalted, I don’t want, um, I don’t--I…” Soren pulled on a lock of his own hair, and they shushed him again, caressing his cheek.

“He’ll only get what he deserves, my precious angel. I can treat you well because you’re a very good boy for me, Soren. I’ve rarely had to punish you; you only occasionally fuck up. But my coworker clearly hasn’t given 02 the structure or discipline he needs in order to make him good, so I’m going to have to fix him. And fixing him will require punishing him. Don’t worry, though, pet, I won’t be cruel. The punishment will fit the crime; he won’t get anything done to him that he doesn’t deserve. I promise. He’ll deserve everything that happens to him, baby, sweetheart, I promise, I promise, absolutely all of it.”

Soren nodded again, gripping his collar and relaxing, a little. It was so nice to see him keyed up and anxious. It was so nice to make Mike squirm and sweat. It was so nice, knowing that their own personal chew toy was kneeling painfully on the concrete floor of their laundry room, just waiting for them to go down and bloom a few more bruises across his skin. Perfect, perfect, all of this, perfect. Exactly what Ren deserved.

“Yes, Exalted.”

“Come along, pet,” Ren beckoned, and Soren followed them down the stairs.

02 greeted their arrival by spitting on the floor at Ren’s feet.

“Oh, disgusting little bug, aren’t you?” Ren asked mildly, stepping over the splotch. They gripped his chin again and he glared up at them. “Tell me, 02, which do you consider to be worse? Death, or refurbishment?”

02’s eyes went wide, suddenly struck with fear. Ren of course would do neither, this was a temporary arrangement, after all. But 02 didn’t know that.

“...Exalted?” 02 asked in a voice that was very very very small.

“Answer the question. Which is worse?”

02’s chest began raising visibly, rapidly. Hard to miss, with how thin he was. “D--”

“And don’t even think about lying to me, slave.”

02’s breath caught, a delightful little gagging noise escaping him. “Refurbishment, Exalted.”

“Hm. Then allow me to make something very clear to you, 02. Soren outranks you in every capacity. You will not eat until he has eaten, you will not sleep unless he has first gone to bed, you will not so much as speak if he has something to say. And if you decide that that makes you jealous, or angry, or if you just decide you don’t like my precious boy for some miscellaneous reason, allow me to make it entirely understood that if you harm so much as a single strand of hair on his head, I will personally instruct the Processors to make sure you beg for death before they put you up for resale.” They released his chin with a small flick of their fingers into the soft underside, and were gratified by the little jerk, and the way his eyes stayed on them. “Do you comprehend?”

“You--you’re warning me to keep my hands off your pet?” he asked, fearful and yet still incredulous.

“Of course,” they said, placing a hand on the front of his close-cropped hair and slowly stroking his skull, cradling his head. “Soren is my precious little bird. And you?” Ren moved their thumb sweetly, back and forth, against his prickly hair. “You’re nothing more than some worthless mutt.”

Next

[edwardsvirginity]

And now... I introduce my best friend to Eclipse! 

--0000000--

[riley’s first appearance]

Friend: who's that

mike?

(the rest of the commentary for the movie is under the readmore!)

--0000000--

[bella reciting the opening monologue: some say the world will end in fire…]

Friend: wow…drama queen

--0000000--

[Edward and bella in the meadow]

Friend: is this real or is this more of her crazy headspace

--0000000--

Edward: marry me

Bella: I have an English final

Friend: wow……. Rude

--0000000--

[Charlie grounding bella]

Friend: charlie…. is the only sane character tbh lmfao

he knows an abusive relationship when he sees one

--0000000--

[Edward sabatoges bella’s truck]

Friend:  Y I K E S

A B U S I V E

this is not romantic lol

--0000000--

Renee: I just want to make sure ur making the right choices for you

Friend: she's NOT

--0000000--

[renee gives bella the quilt from all their trips]

Friend: awwww

except she's selling out her fam for bloodsuckers

--0000000--

[all the cullens wait for Victoria in the forest]

Friend: is it whatshername

the redheaded bitch

--0000000--

Friend: i'm just gonna say….alice and carlisle are the only valid vampires

Me: whyso?

Friend: idk anything about jasper and emmett, edward is weird, who else even is there

--0000000--

Me: [pauses movie because a spider has appeared by my head and I’m freaking out]

[it lands on my laptop and I scream and close it]

Ok… we can resume

Friend: what happened?

Me: [explains]

Him: ? ? ? why didn't you kill it?!

Me: killing it requires getting close enough to touch it, and that's Too Close

i don't kill spiders

anyway

Him: what?!? lmfao

you don't kill spiders

Me: killing them is too scary

Him: i'd rather kill it and know it's dead than wonder where it is

wow

me: i just scream until someone else comes to do it for me

him: that's a lot to take in

--0000000--

[jake confronting Edward about being on their territory]

Edward: I was trying to protect u by not telling u abt Victoria

Friend: mmmm yikes

bella just needs to move tf back to florida

this is….Too Much

--0000000--

[bella goes to lapush]

Friend: tbh i like his pack

--0000000--

Leah: if ur here to torture jake some more u can leave

Friend: oooooh

burn

--0000000--

[movie introduces imprinting]

Friend: tbh i think that whole concept is insane™ and i dont get it

bc it like absolves you of your own…actions

& removes the other person's choice

it's really fucking creepy

--0000000--

Friend: also it would be soooo weird to be able to read people's thoughts

Me: i know it would freak me out

i would hate being able to hear everything my packmates thought

Friend: i don't need anyone else to know how horny i am

--0000000--

[Jacob arguing with bella about the cullens]

Jacob: theyre not even alive

Friend: "they're not even alive" y i k e s

--0000000--

[riley creeping in bella’s house]

Friend: man i'd be sleepin with a shotgun lmfao

& like 12 dogs

--0000000--

[Edward yelling at bella abt bella disappearing with jake]

Me: he’s so overprotective

Friend: she needs it tho

Me: because she's such a danger magnet?

Friend: um….yeah

& she is a fucking damsel in distress

she has no power of her own :((

--0000000--

Friend: he's so…ugly

me: Edward?

Friend: yeah ……….

--0000000--

[Jake appears shirtless]

Edward: doesn’t he own a shirt

Friend: “doesn't he own a shirt"

LMFAO edward voicing my thoughts

--0000000--

[Edward kissing bella before passing her off to jake, who immediately hugs her]

Friend: the way they …. fight with each other by using her body :|

--0000000--

Friend: what do native americans think of this?

Me: [explains]

Friend: so what is the redeeming quality of these movies exactly lmfao

Me: they’re… fun?

Friend: i guess

like indiana jones

racist trash, but fun(?)

--0000000--

Me: I hate his sideburns in this movie

Friend: don't think they're that bad

his whole face tho is not great

especially pale af

--0000000--

[nonconsensual kiss scene]

Jake: ill fight until ur heart stops beating

Bella: u wont have to wait for long

Friend: YIKES

--0000000--

[Edward and Jake fighting post-punch]

Jake: she’s not sure what she wants

Friend: Y I K E S

--0000000--

[Carlisle bandaging bella]

Friend: carlisle is so hot

i wanna marry dr. carlisle

the way he medicines everyone up…

wow

 [..]

edward is useless

seduce Carlisle

 [..]

edward's been alive 100 years and hasn't become a doctor??? c'mon

--0000000--

[Rosalie killing her rapists]

Friend: LM FAO

love that

W O W

that's a more interesting story than bella's LMFAO

--0000000--

[Rosalie trying to convince bella to stay human]

Rose: there’s one thing you’ll want more than Edward… one thing you’ll kill for… blood

Friend: ohhh….

SHE REAL

--0000000--

Friend: & also bella's assumption that Edward is That Great

she's 18….. she hasn't even TRIED college boys

 [..]

has she even had sex with anyone, ever?

--0000000--

Friend: Evil Dakota Fanning is ….. scary af

--0000000--

Friend: i'll say what i want about stephanie meyer being a fucked up mormon…. but her music taste is p good

Me: she didn’t do the soundtracks

Friend: ummm…i remember stephanie meyer specifically thanking Muse in her books

in the "acknolwedgements" section

 or did you, the twilight princess, not read that part

--0000000--

[graduation party]

Friend: I feel like there should be a twilight spoof..

where a high school girl has to choose between dating a furry and a goth

bc that's what this feels like to me

--0000000--

Friend: he freaks me out

the beefy one

--0000000--

[training scene]

Friend: jasper's kinda sexy too

well, everyone looks good next to robert :|

--0000000--

[jasper’s backstory]

Friend: jasper was a confederate soldier?!?!??!

what?? lmfao

confederate vampires? thanks i hate it

--0000000--

Friend: didn't he have like a life and morals before becoming a vampire or

i mean i guess he's a confederate so maybe not but

--0000000--

[jasper’s backstory]

Friend: he just listens to her lmfao

his Evil Mexican Bruja

--0000000--

[about Victoria]

Friend: she should just make someone sexy a vampire and fuck them tho

she has the power here

--0000000--

[about Jacob]

Friend: is there a REASON he never wears a shirt?

--0000000--

[Jake trying to convince bella she has feelings for him]

Jake: you can love more than one person… like sam, Emily, and leah

Friend: thruple!

that's the only resolution here

jacob & edward need to fuck each other and get over it

there's too much tension between them

--0000000--

Alice: you and Edward will have the house to yourself tonight

Friend: oooooo

Alice: you’re welcome

Friend: LMFAO

alice is a bro

--0000000--

Bella [immediately after the scene with Alice]: hey dad, I was wondering

Friend: hey dad… i was wondering. do you have any condoms

--0000000--

Bella: dad I’m a virgin

Friend: not for long….

--0000000--

Friend: but like honestly it's all so deeply unclear to me

he has like no blood, right?

HOW does he get hard

Me: he’s always hard

Friend: i don't think that's how that works

--0000000--

[Edward and bella in edward’s room]

Bella: I wanna ask u something

Friend: "can we fuck"

--0000000--

Friend: i feel like "becoming a vampire" is just a metaphor for "losing virginity"

--0000000--

[Bella tried to jump Edward]

Edward: bella…no

Friend: ???????????

they already kiss and stuff?????????

Me: yeah

i think he's worried he'd like. fuck her to death

idk… her vulva is delicate i guess

 Friend: they could do some Other Stuff

Me: yeah i know

edward is just…. too old school to understand anything but piv

Friend: fuck her to death…with his flaccid vampire dick

 [..]

this is so………Weird

?????????? sex is not a sin

--0000000--

[Edward talking abt how he would have courted bella in 1918]

Friend: ???????????? i dont believe that at all

people fucked in the 1800s

edward is a fucking weirdo

[Edward starts his grand speech]

Friend: Ew

this is…. a Lot

tbh it's Not Sexy that he can't adapt to a more feminist era

[Edward proposes]

Friend: this is…… a Lot

he Keeps Asking

[bella accepts]

Friend: she's only saying yes because she's horny!!!!

--0000000--

Friend: also….tbh it's sad that these vampires have to deny their instincts and have no control over themselves

like ….maybe they should just be euthanized

 Me: :O

Friend: is it fair to deny them their nature???

we don't force tigers to be vegetarians

what is the difference

Me: because… they're sentient and intellectual and can decide for themselves not to eat humans

Friend: i'm not sure i buy that

Me: you think they're not smart enough to make their own decision not to eat humans?

Friend: it seems like they have to be rehabilitated to deny a very natural instinct that they have no control over

are the cullens themselves a metaphor for mormonism?

 Me: yeah but carlisle CHOSE a vegetarial lifestyle… no one forced it on him

Friend: i guess

but at what cost

lmao

--0000000--

[tent scene]

Jacob: I am hotter than u

Friend: LMFAO

--0000000--

Friend: why didn't they bring more blankets?????

how fucking cold is it

Dumbasses

--0000000--

[Edward and jake arguing over bella]

Friend: idk bella….

i'd rather fuck a hot wolf than a freezing rock hard PussyDestroying Vampire

those wolves are HUGE…. huge dicks im sure

--0000000--

[Edward talking about how he doesn’t want bella to be a vamp to jake]

 Friend: i feel like they're Bonding

over their inability to control this woman lmfao

--0000000--

[jake and Edward fighting over bella]

Friend: bella is not that interesting? ? ? ?

--0000000--

Edward: if you weren’t trying to steal bella I might actually like u

Friend: wow

THIS is where they should fuck

t h r u p l e

look deep into each other's eyes

--0000000--

Friend: she'd warm up if they were having sex

--0000000--

[post tent scene]

Friend: she's not even wearing a hat rn

bella…what the fuck

--0000000--

[Edward and bella talking about being engaged, jake overhears]

Bella: it’s the 21st century

Friend: yeah, it is the 21st century…. marry them both

--0000000--

[bella asks jake to kiss her]

Friend: what the FUCK is happening

--0000000--

[bella and jake making out]

Friend: she's not even wearing anything warm

--0000000--

[battle]

Friend: carlisle…. kung fu master

Me: renaissance man

Friend: only breaks the hippocratic oath when absolutely necessary

--0000000--

[confrontation with riley and Victoria, Edward trying to convince riley to turn on Victoria]

Edward: think about it riley.. .you’re from forks… you know the area

Friend: "you're from forks… who would want that"

--0000000--

[Carlisle healing jake]

Friend: god…..my sexy, classy dad

… so smart….. so kind

--0000000--

Bella: I’m not normal

Friend: bella….you are SO normal

the reason every middle school girl read these books and thought they were like bella is bc you are just THAT normal

--0000000--

Edward: I guess we should start planning the wedding

Bella: no… something more difficult first… more dangerous

Friend: is she still talking about her virginity

[arecomicsevengood]

TOP TEN OLDER MAINSTREAM COMICS I READ THIS YEAR

I kept track of all the comics I read this year, and not all of them were new. I have no idea who this will help or benefit but at least the circumstances of me only listing the completely arbitrary older work I read for the first time this year will deter anyone from arguing with me. However, for the sake of possibly being contentious, let me mention two comics that fall outside the top ten, because they’re bad:

Trencher by Keith Giffen. David King did a comic strip about Keith Giffen’s art style on this book in issue 2 of But Is It... Comic Aht that everybody loved, and made me be like, ok, I’ll check it out. But it’s basically just a retread of Lobo in terms of its tone and approach, but without Simon Bisley. I don’t really know why anyone wouldn’t think Bisley is the better cartoonist. Also, those comics are terrible. Thumbs down.

The Green Lantern by Grant Morrison, Liam Sharp, and Steve Oliff. I bought the first year of these comics for a dollar each off a dude doing a sidewalk sale. Found them sort of incoherent? I haven’t liked a new Grant Morrison comic in ages, with All-Star Superman being really the only outlier since like We3. This is clearly modeled off of European comics like Druillet or something, and would maybe benefit from being printed larger, I really dislike the modeled color too. But also it’s just aggressively fast-paced, with issues ending in ways that feel like cliffhangers but aren’t, and no real characters of interest.

As for the top ten list itself, for those who’ve looked at my Letterboxd page, slots 10-8 are approximately “3 stars,” 7-4 are 3 1/2 stars, slots 3 and 2 are 4 stars, with number one being a 4 1/2 star comic. The comics I’m listing on my “Best Of The Year” list that’ll run at the Comics Journal alongside a bunch of people are all 4 1/2 or 5 star comics. This is INSANELY NERDY and pedantic to note, and I eschew star ratings half the time anyway, because assignations of numeric value to art are absurd except within the specific framework of how strong a recommendation is, and on Letterboxd I feel like I’m speaking to a very small and self-selecting group of people whose tastes I generally know. (And I generally would not recommend joining Letterboxd to people!) But what I mean by all of this is just that there is a whole world of work I value more than this stuff, and I’ll recommend the truly outstanding shit to interested readers in good time.

10. Justice Society Of America by Len Strazewski and Mike Parobeck. Did some quarantine regressing and bought these comics, a few of which were some of the first comics I ever read, but I didn’t read the whole thing regularly as a kid. Parobeck’s a fun cartoonist, this stuff is readable. It’s faintly generic/baseline competent but there’s a cheap and readable quality to this stuff that modern comics lack. Interestingly, the letters column is made up of old people who remember the characters and feel like it’s marketed towards them, and since that wasn’t profitable, when the book was canceled, Parobeck went over to drawing The Batman Adventures, which was actively marketed towards kids. It’s funny that him and Ty Templeton were basically viewed as “normal” mainline DC Comics for a few years there and then became relegated to this specific subset of cartooning language, which everyone likes and thought was good but didn’t fit inside the corporate self-image, which has basically no aesthetic values.

9. The Shadow 18 & 19 by Andy Helfer and Kyle Baker. I’d been grabbing issues of this run of comics for years and am only now finishing it. Kyle Baker’s art is swell but Helfer writes a demanding script, these are slow reads that cause the eye to glaze over a bit.

8. The Jam 3-8 by Bernie Mireault. I made a post where I suggested Mireault’s The Jam might be one of the better Slave Labor comics. Probably not true but what I ended up getting are some colored reprints Tundra did, and some black and white issues published by Dark Horse after that. Mireault’s art style is kinda like Roger Langridge. After these, he did a crossover with Mike Allred’s Madman and then did a series of backups in those comics, it makes sense to group them together, along with Jay Stephens’ Atomic City Tales and Paul Grist’s Jack Staff, or Mike Mignola’s Hellboy, as this stream that runs parallel to Image Comics but is basically better, a little more readable, but still feeling closer to something commercial in intention as opposed to self-expression. Although it also IS self-expression, just the expression of a self that has internalized a lot of tropes and interests in superhero comics. If you have also read a lot of superhero comics, but also a lot of alternative comics, stuff like this basically reads like nothing. It’s comfort food on the same level of mashed potatoes: I love it when it’s well-done but there’s also a passable version that can be made when depressed and uninspired. But drawing like Roger Langridge is definitely not bad!

7. WildC.A.T.S by Alan Moore, Travis Charest, et al. I wrote a post about these comics a few months ago, but let me reiterate the salient points: There’s two collections, the first one is much better than the second, and the first is incredibly dumbed-down in its nineties Image Comics style but also feels like the best version of that possible, when Charest is doing art. Also, these collections are out of print now, a friend of mine pointed out maybe they can’t be reprinted because they involve characters owned by Todd McFarlane but Wildstorm is owned wholly by DC now.

6. Haywire by Michael Fleischer and Vince Giarrano. I made a post about this comic when I first read a few issues right around the time Michael Fleischer died a few years ago, but didn’t read all of it then. This feels way more deliberately structured than most action comics, with its limited cast and lack of ties to any broader universe, but it’s also dumb and sleazy and fast moving, and feels related to what were the popular movies of the day, splitting its influences evenly between erotic thrillers about yuppies and Stallone-starring action movies. The erotic thriller element is mostly just “a villain in bondage gear” which is sort of standard superhero comics bullshit but it’s also a little bit deeper than that. The first three issues, inked by Kyle Baker, look the best.

5. Dick Tracy by John Moore and Kyle Baker. These look even better! A little unclear which John Moore this is? There’s John Francis Moore, who worked with Howard Chaykin and was scripting TV around this time, but there’s another dude who was a cartoonist who did a miniseries for Piranha Press and then moved on to doing work for Disney on Darkwing Duck comics. Anyway, Kyle Baker colors these, they’re energetically cartooned, each issue is like 64 pages, with every page being close to a strip or scene in a movie. I’m impressed by them, and there’s a nice bulk that makes them a nice thing to keep a kid busy. (For the record, my favorite Kyle Baker solo comic is probably You Are Here.)

4. Chronos by John Francis Moore and Paul Guinan. I was moving on from DC comics by the late nineties, but Grant Morrison’s JLA was surely a positive influence on everyone, especially compared to the vibe there in the subsequent two decades. These are well-crafted. There’s a little stretch where it uses the whole “time-traveling protagonist” thing to do a run of issues which stand alone but fall in sequence too and it’s pretty smooth and smart. The art is strong enough to carry it, the sort of cartoony faces with detailed backgrounds it’s widely agreed works perfectly, but that you rarely see in mainstream comics. The coloring is done digitally, but not over-modeled enough to ruin it.

3. Martha Washington by Frank Miller and Dave Gibbons. A few miniseries, all of which sort of get weaker as they go, but all in one book it doesn’t feel like it’s becoming trash as it goes or anything. When Miller dumbed down his storytelling in the nineties it really was because he thought it made for better comics, the tension between his interest in manga and Gibbons’ British-comics classicism feels productive. I do kind of feel like the early computer coloring ruins this a little bit.

2. Xombi by John Rozum and JJ Birch. Got a handful of these on paper, read scans of the rest. This is pretty solid stuff, not really transcendent ever, but feels well-crafted on a month-in, month-out level. I read a handful of other Milestone comics, and a lot of them suffered from being so beholden to deadlines that there are fill-in issues constantly. This is the rare one that had the same creators for the entirety of its run. There was a revival with Frazer Irving art a decade ago but I prefer JJ Birch’s black line art with Noelle Giddings’ watercolors seen here. They’re doing an early Vertigo style “weirdness” but with a fun and goofy sense of humor about itself. I haven’t read Clive Barker but this feels pretty influenced by that as well. (The Deathwish miniseries is of roughly comparable quality. I read scans of the rest of that after I made my little post and, yeah, it does actually feel very personal for a genre work, and the JH Williams art with painted color is great.)

1. Tom Strong by Alan Moore, Chris Sprouse, etc. I got bored reading these as a teen but getting them all for cheap and reading them in a go was a pretty satisfying experience. It’s partly a speed-run through Moore’s coverage of the concept of a comic book multiverse seen in his Supreme run, minus the riffing on Mort Weisinger Superman comics, instead adding in a running theme of rehabilitating antagonists whose goals are different but aren’t necessarily evil. It’s more than just Moore in an optimistic or nostalgic mode, it also feels like he’s explaining his leftist morality to an audience that has internalized conflicts being resolved by violence as the genre standard.

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

Penny is canonically a Pisces! I kind of see Scorpio for Eliot but I have a hard time squaring a Scorpio's obsessiveness and the inclination for vengeance with him...honestly Alice fits that better I think. Julia's birthday is in the pilot so she's probably either a Scorpio, Sagittarius, or Capricorn.

other anon asked: A very important question: has Magicians fandom ever discussed zodiac placements?

(merging these two for Zodiac Pondering Time)

magicians zodiac is interesting, i feel like there’s a lot of characters where i could go in a couple different directions! let’s do this by character, in rough order from more to less attached to my zodiac headcanon, lol:

josh: taurus! almost too easy except that it fits. loves food & other sensual delights, a gifted naturalist and so connected to the earth, soil, planting, growing things, springtime, etc. also he just has a taurus… vibe. you know? taurus is my secret favorite sign because i kind of think of them as like capricorn’s less Unhinged better-adjusted younger sibling and anecdotally i just tend to feel very safe around tauruses in the world, i don’t know why! there’s a peaceableness… a simplicity but in a good way… josh drinking beer with eliot is very in this mold imo!

julia: for zodiac concepts i mostly consider canon birthdays like, helpful suggestions, although often they DO wind up feeling right… for example, i absolutely consider julia a capricorn. this is a little bit because she is my baby and i am a capricorn, but mostly it is because of every single thing she ever does. surveying one’s options and choosing the most Extra choice possible, and doing so with a vibe like you don’t even know that that’s what you’re doing? capricorn antics. dismantling a magical battery simply by hurling your body at it over and over until it caves to the sheer force of your will, while someone looks on wondering why you seem to lack the human instinct for self-preservation? capricorn antics. “i don’t really do slow”? capricorn antics. giving a pep talk about your friendship that ends with “tighten your shit”? capricorn antics. the extent to which she is impossible to insult or intimidate because she is so comfortably self-contained, very capricorn. the best thing i have ever read about capricorns is this hairpin (rip) piece called Astrology Is Fake, But Capricorns Are A Conspiracy, about how goats seem like normal critters until you look at their fucked up square pupils and then realize that they are interacting with the world in a fundamentally different way from everyone else and also have no idea that there is anything weird about what they’re doing. like...

This is the heart of the Capricorn mystery, the secret that has been kept so quiet for all these years. They seem so normal, so predictable, but they are looking at through the world through effing rectangular pupils, different from all the other kinds of pupils in this world, and they don’t even know. Only I know. And now you.

Ask a Sagittarius why they did something weird and they will say that they thought it was funny. Ask a Cancer the same question, and they will look you square in the eye and tell you that it’s because they are nuts. Ask a Capricorn, though, and they will just look at you blankly. What do you mean, weird? I don’t do weird stuff, because I am a Capricorn and that is not our way — it says so right there in the literature. What do you mean, “rectangular pupils”? No other sign has such a vested interest in thinking of themselves as rational, organised, and so on. You can’t tell a Capricorn that they have done something which exceeds the limits of what is considered reasonable. They are the appointed guardians of what is reasonable. This doesn’t make them any less nuts, though.

this is julia! simultaneously the most normie-passing member of the cast, and also the most unhinged, but in a very calm, emotionally unbothered way. alright. case made. moving on.

margo: another one that feels almost too easy, but, like, yeah, leo. royalty, glamor, ferocity, potency, naturally and comfortably the center of attention, charismatic, protective, throws a great party, fights for those she loves, loyal, etc. again, feels almost too on the nose! and doesn’t quite get at her cold, machiavellian side. but also, if the glittering stiletto fits....

alice: things are getting trickier here! my instinct for alice is aquarius because her niffin self is driven by the quest for knowledge, and because she has that like, fixed-sign rigidity, and also she is a total freak and extremely alienated from, like, all of humanity. (one of my BFFs is an aquarius so i say this with love.) but i would be open to a reading that gives more weight to her neuroticism (virgo?) or her deep wells of rage and pain (leo? scorpio?)

kady: a little tricky mostly just because of how uninterested the show is in acting like she is a real person. the gimme here is aries - “no one else hits that hard,” resident battle magic expert. but despite being introduced as the brakebills thief, kady’s biggest storylines are all about her loyalty: to her mother, to julia, to penny, to the hedge community, such as it is. not a trait strongly associated with the baby of the zodiac. is she also a leo? are she and julia a capricorn power couple? (taking on the role of like Honorary Hedge President is not... not capricorn antics)

quentin: i swear to god when i was first thinking about this, i was like, “quentin is a cancer,” and then i was like, “you can’t just make quentin a cancer because cancers and water signs in general are wildly overrated in your historical fandom interests, just because steve rogers is a cancer doesn’t mean quentin is a cancer,” and then i found out there’s some (semi?)-official info that places him as a cancer... there is a part of me that continues to resist because of his intellectual side, because of the particular mechanisms of his escapist tendencies, but. has a lot of feelings, at his happiest living in cozy domestic contentment with someone he loves, eager for partnership, easily wounded, capable of being the sweetest darling on the planet and also a huge, terrible asshole........ fine. okay. cancer. as a bonus, this means that he and julia are sister signs, which is pretty cute.

penny: i can see pisces for penny! i like scorpio because of the underworld connection, ruled by pluto, etc., also because the astrology book i have says that the life purpose of scorpio is to be “a true, irritating healer” which is an amazing phrase and very penny, but pisces works in terms of like, liminality, the porousness between realms, psychic phenomena, his association with dreams... plus of course his big heart, deep wells of compassion. pisces doesn’t really capture his prickliness, but i actually also thing the scorpio-vengeance thing applies to him less than it does to eliot - penny is constantly annoyed but he pretty rarely gets really angry or acts out on his anger. his huge inner softness and the fact that he’s like secretly the most caring person in the cast makes me think water sign and i could see either of those... but wouldn’t it be funny if he and quentin were both cancers and that’s why they can’t stand each other? would add even more to my whole Thing about how writing penny-40 out how they did was a huge lost opportunity for quentin and penny’s characterization as shaped by their gradual peace-making towards each other. but then again he is also absurdly impulsive... maybe he’s an aries! or a sagittarius? i am uncommitted.

eliot: ELIOT IS THE HARDEST ONE!!! the scorpio thing, i feel like eliot is so secrets on secrets, you know? he’s an exhibitionist but also extremely private about his actual heart. carly rae jepsen our SCORPIO PRINCESS writes “i’ve got a cavern of secrets / none of them are for you / even if you wanted to keep them, where would you find the room?”... very eliot. and i do see what you’re saying particularly about the scorpio obsessiveness/intensity - eliot for all his feelings and Extra-ness is actually one of the... less intense people on this show about 24-year-olds having a group nervous breakdown? but he did (1) kill a kid with a bus (2) immediately kill beast-mike which was like obviously strategically justified since the beast wasn’t gonna give mike up but also pretty obviously the hurt that propelled the spell (since eliot was not trained in battle magic at the time) came less from a rational consideration of the situation and more from his since of betrayal at having opened his intimate vulnerable self to someone under false pretenses (3) throw margo in the dungeon. obviously eliot is my child who has never done anything wrong in his LIFE and i hold none of this against him, but for all his softness when he really thinks he’s been crossed shit can get pretty real pretty fast. not to mention whatever the hell “if you want to live your life live it here” was about.

but!!! he is also so soft!!! i mean, shit, maybe eliot is the pisces? intuitive, Deeply Sad, gentle, with an easily bruised but never closed heart the size of the ocean? but then i also feel like aesthetics are sooooo important to him... i thought about libra, for the combination of aesthetic vision and interest in justice (all his thinking about what kind of kingdom he wants to rule, very different from margo’s immediate focus on making sure they stay in charge and alive). he’s got the libra elegance and charm, and of course his status as consummate host is very libra. (did you know f. scott fitzgerald, author of the great gatsby a book about parties and charm which is also one of the most famously symmetrically structured novels in american literature, is a triple libra? if you ever needed proof that astrology was real...) but eliot is SO driven by his heart, it’s hard to square an air sign with that! in my wip i have him as a scorpio with moon in sagittarius but maybe i should switch those... eliot obviously doesn’t have sagittarius’s optimism but like you can see how he might have in a different life (and/or without a scorpio moon), right? as opposed to quentin who very obviously was always going to be Like That... there’s a lightness to eliot in his better moments, this really lovely capacity for joy... and there’s a lightness to him in his worst moments, which is very sag! can get angry but doesn’t dig into it the way margo does. not Book Curious but very into Seeing The World, gathering experiences. hmmmm. maybe i’ve talked myself into sagittarius eliot! but then again where are his Enormous Feelings? IT’S TOUGH. eliot brings out my You Have To Look At The Whole Chart tendencies!!!!!

[hanscom]

meet me at the moon [rated: T]

Summary: The Losers get married, to the best of their ability.

Written for the @poly-losers-club Fic Exchange, but mostly for @poetromantics​.

Beverly was admitted to the hospital on a Monday.

It was nothing serious. No, really. Three stitches, max. But Eddie got freaked out by all the blood gushing from the gash on her forehead and insisted on driving her to the ER, full-speed. The others followed at a more reasonable pace, but eventually the calm afternoon waiting room was full of life: six grown men hovering around her, visibly stressed in a variety of ways, from Eddie pacing the room in fast, flurried strides to Richie sprawling across a whole row of seats and complaining loudly about whoever it was that banned smoking indoors. It was enough to give Beverly a headache. But that also might have been the head wound.

It took half an hour for her to be called back. The bleeding had stopped by then, but it had crusted around her shirt collar and itched like crazy. She just wanted to go home and change, but Stan was already guiding her out of her seat and towards the waiting nurse. The nurse didn’t comment on Stan’s presence — probably because Stan just looked so no-nonsense, all intense eyes and heavy frown — but she paused when the others rushed to join them.

“I’m sorry,” she said, sounding uncertain. “Only family is allowed in the room.”

“I’m her brother,” Richie announced instantly.

“Yeah,” Bill chimed in without hesitation. “Me, too.”

“So am I,” Eddie said, but he didn’t sound too sure about it. He’d never been a great liar.

Mike elbowed him and said, “I am, too.”

“He’s adopted,” Richie was quick to add.

“We all are,” Bill agreed.

“Except Ben,” said Mike.

Ben looked startled by the sound of his own name, but he recovered fast. He’d gotten good at playing along with Richie’s schemes over the years. “I’m her husband,” he said. As if to prove it, he moved to Beverly’s free side and looped an arm around her. The way she leaned into him was not entirely for show.

“We’re family,” Stan told the nurse. His strong voice left no room for argument.

The nurse wavered.

Richie pulled himself up to his full height and looked down at her. He didn’t look nearly as intimidating as he probably thought he did. “Listen, lady. You can either let me into that room, or you can leave me here to make a scene. Your call.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide. He put a hand on Richie’s arm as if to settle him. “Please don’t get him started,” he whispered urgently to the nurse.

The nurse looked across the room and made eye contact with the receptionist, who had been watching the entire scene with interest. She shrugged and popped her gum. The nurse seemed to take this as permission. She sighed, straighten her clipboard, and led their entourage through the heavy doors and down a blindingly white hallway. She settled Beverly into a hospital bed, took her vitals, and assured them the doctor would see them soon. She didn’t seem happy about it, exactly, but she did smile when Ben thanked her, so Beverly didn’t work up the energy to feel bad.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Riche threw himself onto the doctor’s stool with a groan. “I hate hospitals,” he announced.

“You didn’t have to come,” Bev pointed out. “I’m fine.”

Richie glared at her. “You have a gaping head wound,” he said. “I can practically see your brain matter.” Eddie gagged, then punched Richie’s arm in retaliation. Richie, unrepentant, went on. “Besides, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I stayed home watching Netflix while you withered away in a hospital bed?”

Stan shushed him sharply and looked around, as if they might have missed some stranger cramming into the room with them. “Don’t say boyfriend right now,” he admonished. “We’re her brothers, remember?”

Richie made a face. “It was the best I could do on the spot. Figured it was easier than trying to explain the concept of polyamory to some poor ER nurse.”

“It was a good call,” Bill assured him.

“Bill, please stop encouraging Richie’s stupid ideas,” Stan sighed, his voice taking on the cadence of someone reciting a line they’ve rehearsed a thousand times. Bill’s endless support of Richie’s constant chaos was a well-worn argument in the Loser household.

“Yes, dear,” Bill said dutifully, but when Stan turned away to fuss with Bev’s bedsheets, he winked in Richie’s direction. Richie blew him a kiss in return.

Mike shook his head. “Can’t you guys act like normal people for twenty minutes?” he asked, but he was grinning about it.

“Normal?” Richie repeated, incredulous. “You expect me to act normally while our poor, sweet girlfriend is confined to a sick bed?”

“Poor, sweet sister,” Stan corrected him, as if he didn’t know it was a lost cause.

Richie threw his hands up. “This is stupid,” he said. “No one’s listening. And besides, it’s not my fault Ben always gets to play husband.”

“You’re the one who said you were her brother first,” Eddie pointed out.

“Yeah, but only because Ben would have blown our cover immediately,” Richie retorted. “He can’t keep his hands to himself for more than twenty seconds.”

Richie, admittedly, had a point. Ben was tactile. He liked to hug, to hold hands, to feel the heat of another person’s skin against his own. Even then, he was standing at Bev’s side, their fingers loosely laced. He smiled self-consciously, but didn’t pull away. “Sorry.”

Bev squeezed his hand. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” she said firmly. It wasn’t that Bev preferred his presence. She would have been just as content with Mike at her side, or Stan, or one of the others. But Ben took comfort from standing so close to her, and she would never deny him that.

If it were anyone else, Richie would push the issue. Would dig into the soft spot, would wheedle and whine until he got his way. But it was Ben. They were all a little bit soft for Ben. So Richie just smiled and said, “It’s cool, man. You make a good husband.”

“I’d marry you,” Eddie agreed. The only thing he and Richie never fought about was their mutual affection for Ben Hanscom.

“Me, too,” Mike chimed in. Stan and Bill nodded along.

Bev squeezed his hand again. “I would marry the hell out of you,” she told him softly.

And maybe it was the head injury, but it actually didn’t sound like such a bad idea. They could do it in the backyard. She could make her own dress. They wouldn’t even have to invite anyone. It could be just the seven of them, the way it had always been.

“We should do it,” she said.

Ben looked down at her. He was leaning over the bed, his broad body blocking most of the blaring overhead light. He looked like something straight out of a fantasy. She could so easily picture him at the end of an aisle, dressed to the nines in a fitted suit, eyes brimming with happy tears.

“We should get married,” she said, more sure this time.

There was a pause. Slowly, Richie uncurled from his sprawl and sat up straight. His eyes were suddenly very big behind his glasses. “Someone get the doctor,” he gasped. “I think she might have brain damage.”

“Don’t joke about that,” Eddie chastised, but he glanced uncertainly at Bev like he wasn’t entirely convinced it was a joke at all.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Bev?” Bill asked. He raised his hand and made a peace sign. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Beverly rolled her eyes and started to tell them all that she was just fine, thanks very much, but she was interrupted by a quick knock on the door. It opened, and a middle-aged man in a white coat swept in. If he was surprised to find seven people crammed into one examination room, he didn’t show it. He smiled and introduced himself as Dr. Williams, and then he set to work poking and prodding Beverly’s forehead. The gash there wasn’t very long, but it was deep enough to warrant a few stitches. Beverly had expected that, so she allowed him to clean the wound, numb it, and sew it back together. The entire process took less than ten minutes — just long enough that, by the time the nurse returned to handle her discharge paperwork, the marriage conversation seemed to have been forgotten. Eddie was much calmer now that the wound was bandaged, and Richie had slipped out of the room with Bill to share a cigarette. Stan and Mike were both listening patiently to the nurse’s explanation of how to clean around the stitches without damaging them. Ben was still holding her hand. She wanted to get his attention, to insist that she really had meant it, but it didn’t feel like the right time anymore.

—

Time went on. The stitches dissolved. There was barely even a scar left. Her forehead was still a little tender if she put pressure on it, but otherwise, it was like it never happened.

Beverly still thought about it sometimes, though: the whole marriage thing.

Did she want to be married? She’d never considered it before. It had never felt like a possibility. She’d never really been the kind of kid who dreamed about a big, white wedding. The closest she had ever come was the time they’d put on a pretend ceremony in the underground safety of the clubhouse. She’d been ‘marrying’ Bill back then, which had been nice. She’d worn a crown of flowers that Eddie had picked for her. Stan officiated because he was the only one of them who knew anything about religious ceremonies. Richie walked her down the aisle. Ben cried. Mike snapped a few pictures. They had all pooled their money to get the film developed. One of the better shots was still floating around in a photo album somewhere.

They had probably been too old to play pretend, but maybe that was the thing. Maybe they had all known, deep down, that it hadn’t really been pretend at all.

—

Beverly forgot, on occasion, that her boys knew her as well as she knew them. Even better, sometimes.

She had fully decided to forget about the whole thing. It was a ridiculous idea. She couldn’t marry all of them, after all, not officially. And maybe it made her selfish, but she refused to choose. She wanted them all, equally, forever. A wedding probably wouldn’t change things, but she wasn’t willing to risk it.

And then Ben proposed.

Looking back, she really should have expected it. He had been antsy for days, more so than usual. She had walked into a room more than once to find him huddled up with Stan or Mike or Bill, talking in quiet tones that fell silent the second they noticed her. It was suspicious, sure, but her birthday was coming up. All of the guys got a little weird around her birthday — except Richie, who was always weird and couldn’t keep a secret to save his life.

Except this one, apparently. Richie woke her up one morning by crash-landing in her bed, covering her face with wet, sloppy kisses. Bill stood off to the side, laughing at her misery. She accepted the attack by going completely limp. Richie was as eager and excitable as a puppy, and sometimes the only defense against him was to ignore him until he got bored and moved on.

But he was particularly persistent that morning. And then, eventually, Bill joined them in the bed, tugging her free from the covers and coaxing her into consciousness with promises of breakfast. “Mike’s cooking,” he said. “He made your favorite.”

It was sort of weird, because her favorite was usually reserved for post-fight apologies. She tried to remember if she’d argued with any of them recently, but she couldn’t remember. Richie was still kissing her face in quick bursts, and it was hard to think when she felt surrounded by both of them, warm and comfortable and sleep-slow.

They eventually maneuvered her out of the bed and into the bathroom. There was a pile of clothes waiting for her. Stan must have picked them out, because everything coordinated perfectly, down to the socks. That was another weird thing. Stan didn’t take over her wardrobe unless she seemed particularly tired or stressed, which she didn’t think she had. But it was still a nice gesture, so she got dressed, brushed her teeth and her hair, and then wandered down the hall and into the kitchen.

The whole house smelled like bacon and vanilla, but the scent was so strong there that her mouth started to water reflexively. Mike was standing at the stove, an apron draped from his neck. He was shirtless underneath it. She crossed the room and stood behind him, arms around his waist, cheek against his back. She could hear his strong heartbeat and the steady rhythm of his breathing. When he said, “Good morning, beautiful,” she felt the deep rumble of his voice.

“Morning.” She kissed his bare back, between his shoulder blades, and then released him. Eddie was sitting on the counter, his feet dangling. She patted his knee and they shared a smile. And then Stan was guiding her to the table, where a fresh cup of coffee was waiting for her. It was already doctored to perfection, perfectly sweet. She took a long, grateful sip. Richie and Bill and Ben were gathered around the table in their usual places, watching her. She wasn’t used to so much attention. Sharing a life with six other people meant there were at least six other topics of conversation at any given time. Now, though, they were all looking at her like she was the only person in the room. She slowly lowered her coffee mug. “Guys,” she said warily. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Bill said, too quickly.

Richie feigned hurt, but he wasn’t very convincing about it. “Can’t we do something nice for you without having an ulterior motive?”

Bev considered the question. It was technically possible, but they were all staring at her as if waiting for something, and there was absolutely something ulterior about that. “You guys are being weird,” she accused.

“Richie’s always weird,” Eddie offered.

“It’s not just Richie,” she countered, casting an accusatory glance around the kitchen. None of them met her gaze for more than a few seconds except for Stan, who was cool as a cucumber, like always.

“We do have something to discuss,” he said, as if that wasn’t perfectly clear, but he raised his hand to cut her off when she opened her mouth to ask what the hell he was talking about. “Breakfast first, okay? Then we’ll tell you everything. I promise.”

Beverly hated being left out of the loop, but at the very least none of them seemed angry or upset. Anxious, maybe, but mostly they all looked excited. Richie was practically vibrating in his seat. Bill’s grin was huge. She caught Eddie and Mike sharing a glance, both of them seeming pleased as punch. Ben hadn’t said a word all morning, but when they made eye contact, he winked at her. The kitchen felt warm and welcome. Stan was waiting patiently for an answer, but there was a smile playing around the corner of his mouth, like even he couldn’t fight off his good mood. She sighed, but offered a nod. She could be patient. Probably.

Breakfast dragged on. The boys were usually useless at hiding things from her, but that morning they were all equally tight-lipped, refusing to steer the conversation away from mindless morning chatter. Beverly tried to listen, but she found herself zoning out more than once. Maybe it made her a bad partner, but she didn’t care about the weather or Bruce Willis’ new action movie. She would never say that out loud, of course, but they probably knew anyway. She wasn’t participating much in the banter. She was mostly staring at her plate full of french toast, wondering what the hell might be coming.

Nothing could have prepared her for the ring.

It was like a magic trick. One minute, the boys were all gathered around the table, chattering amongst themselves. And then she blinked, and there was Ben, kneeling beside her chair. No one was speaking. She couldn’t even hear their breathing over the blood rushing suddenly through her ears. Ben was saying something, but she couldn’t hear that, either. All she could do was look back and forth between his moving mouth and his outstretched hand, where the delicate silver band was pinched between his thumb and forefinger. It was inset with a single large diamond, and surrounded on either side by three smaller gems, all different colors. There were seven stones total. Her heart was pounding.

Ben’s lips stopped moving. He was staring at her, looking more and more uncertain by the second. Had he already asked? God, she’d totally missed it.

“Say it again,” she croaked. She needed to hear it.

Ben smiled, somewhere between self-conscious and unbearably fond. “Beverly Marsh,” he said, his sweet voice trembling. “Will you marry us?”

Beverly launched herself at him. He was already unbalanced on one knee, and the force of the impact brought him to the ground. He shouted, and there was a flurry of amused noise from the others, but Beverly held firm and pressed her mouth to every bare inch of his face she could reach. “Yes,” she gasped. She didn’t have to think about it. She’d done nothing but think about it. For months. “Yes, yes, oh my God, yes.”

Richie’s face appear in the periphery. He had knelt down beside them. “I think that’s a yes, bro,” he said, his big mouth beaming. Bev released Ben only to turn onto him, grabbing him by the shoulders and yanking him in for another fast series of kisses. Bill was next, and then Mike. Stan helped her to her feet and then drew her into his arms, slowing her frenzied attack into something softer. By the time she was passed on to Eddie, she had settled. They didn’t kiss but she held him for a long time, cheek to cheek. It felt wet. She realized they were both crying.

And then there was Ben again, back on his feet. He looped his arms around her and drew her against his broad body. “You mean it?” he asked softly.

“Of course I do.” Beverly didn’t think she had ever meant anything more. “I love you.” Except maybe that.

Ben picked up her hand and slid the ring onto her finger. It was a perfect fit. The gems glittered and gleamed under the light. She turned her hand this way and that, throwing the light, unable to tear her eyes away.

She was getting married. Holy shit, she was getting married.

—

As it turned out, planning a wedding was fun when seven people and no paperwork were involved. Everyone had a job. Mike would take the pictures. Stan was going to officiate. Bill and Ben spent long hours in the backyard, draping fairy lights around trees and along the gutters. Eddie made a thousand trips across the city, taking on every last errand in earnest. Richie mostly just stayed out of the way. It worked.

Bev set immediately to work designing her own wedding dress, but she drew the line at making six suits. Most of the boys already had something to wear, but Eddie’s suit jacket was too small and Richie had never worn formalwear in his life, so a month before the big day, Bev kicked them out of the house and refused to let them return in anything less than a tuxedo. They were gone for a couple hours, and then Richie had swanned through the house in an admittedly well-tailored suit, looking proud and pleased. He claimed the whole experience hadn’t even been that bad, especially when he had convinced Eddie to join him in the fitting room — said, of course, with an emphatic wriggle of his eyebrows. Eddie squawked a few token protests, insisting that was not what happened, but the blush that flared across his face really said it all.

The days ticked down. Some felt like a dream, and some felt like stark, terrifying reality. Beverly asked herself every day if she was ready. Every day, she knew she was.

And then, suddenly, inexplicably, it was time.

Beverly woke up alone in her own bedroom. She dressed herself, dotted on some makeup, and pinned up her hair. Somewhere in the rest of the house, the boys were dragging on their suits. She wished she could be with them, could fix their lapels and straighten their ties, but Stan was a stickler for tradition. Apparently it was bad luck to see the bride before the wedding, even if it was a fake wedding. Beverly personally thought a wedding with six grooms could stand to break a few traditions, but Stan insisted. 

There was no music to guide her down the aisle. Richie had busted the speakers out of his boombox, and the dog that lived next door barked relentlessly when there was too much noise. So, instead, when Beverly finally opened the back door that morning, she descended the stairs into the yard in silence. Her bare feet made quiet shifting noises against the carpet of grass. Her dress dragged the ground with a soft whisper. The boys were standing in a line, wearing black suits and ties of varying color. It reminded her of her ring, of all the different gems there. She stared at the six of them, all so different from one another. They were beautiful on their own, but all of them together was enough to stop her heart.

Richie started crying almost immediately. That set off Mike, who clung to Bill as if he couldn’t bear to hold himself up under the weight of all the emotion. Bill’s eyes were shiny when he looked at her. Eddie wasn’t looking at her at all, his head ducked down, his shoulders trembling. Even Stan made a noise suspiciously like a sniffle. The only one of them who kept it together was Ben, and that was only because he was staring at her, wide-eyed, as if everything was finally starting to sink in.

“Getting cold feet?” she asked softly, approaching him. 

He reached out with surprising speed, gathering her into his arms. “Never,” he said, and then kissed her with so much passion she sagged against him, knees weak.

Beside them, Stan cleared his throat.

“Ah, leave ‘em alone, Staniel,” Richie goaded. “We’re newlyweds.”

“Not yet, we’re not,” Stan said primly. He gently pried Beverly away from Ben and gave them each a stern look that quickly melted into fondness. “Dearly beloved,” he began when he was satisfied they would keep their hands off one another. “We are gathered here today—”

Beverly couldn’t help her giggle. There was something funny about Stan giving the whole speech in front of their empty backyard. He paused to peer at her, fighting a smile. “Something to add, Miss Marsh?”

“Are we all supposed to say vows?” Bill interrupted. He actually looked nervous.

“What’s the matter, Bill?” Richie slung an arm around Bill’s shoulders, leering down at him. “Don’t tell me you have writer’s block.”

“I’ll show you writer’s block,” Bill muttered, shoving his elbow into Richie’s ribs. Richie yowled, jolting away from him. He accidentally treaded on Eddie’s foot, who shouted and swore a blue streak, which set off the neighbor’s dog. Stan tried to get things back on track to continue his speech, but the dog was howling too long and loud for him to be heard.

There was nothing else to do but for the seven of them to spill back into the house, laughing and jostling against one another, drawn together as if magnetized. Beverly couldn’t keep her hands to herself. She had to touch Stan’s perfect hair, Mike’s brilliant smile. She ran her fingers along Ben’s jaw, and across Bill’s chest. She sat in Richie’s lap on their oversized couch and let Eddie pull her feet across his legs. He didn’t even complain that she was getting dirt all over his new pants.

Silence fell after awhile. Even the dog outside calmed. They could have gone back out, tried again, but none of them made a move. All of a sudden, despite the weeks of effort, it didn’t feel important. That was the thing, wasn’t it? A wedding was nice, but it would never feel as good as quiet moments like those, all of them draped together in small ways, a closed circuit of endless affection. What did it matter if they were married? The ring was nice, but it didn’t change the sweet curve of Bill’s smile, the beautiful drag of Stan’s fingers through her hair, the gentle rhythm of Richie’s breathing, the sharp familiarity of Mike’s cologne, the easy weight of Eddie’s hand on her ankle, the gorgeous taste of Ben’s mouth.

Beverly had been theirs in every possible way since she was a kid. She didn’t know how to belong anywhere else. She didn’t want to figure it out.

And the best part was that she didn’t have to. They had offered her forever, after all.

She fully intended to take them up on it.