#especially when she reads more as mid twenties at least

[theirwolfbicanthrope]

finished a book that was very much for my Id and was self indulgent junk food and it was enjoyable but the age of the FMC nearly ruined it for me. she was wayyyyyy too young for someone in her position, she definitely read as at least a few years older, and it made a plot twist reveal about another character FUCKING RIDICULOUS to the degree it almost stopped me from finishing.

[leuchtstabrebell]

just saw the Jesus Christ Superstar production in Nuremberg with a friend and thought i'd share some of my observations because this was WILD

details under the cut because i have a lot to say but this might be one of the queerest and boldest productions of JSC i have ever seen. the pope is herodes, nuns are participating in orgies, Mary is a mother, the catholic church is critizised every step of the way, hirarchies and power structures are questioned, and Judas wears a skirt. There are neon crosses and halos and a lot of blood, and so much thought and love put into this. The production value is very good as well. The cast is very young, especially the apostels and Judas and Jesus who are all in their early to mid-twenties, and the vibes are simply amazing.

This production is set in modern day rome and the vatican. jesus and the apostels are queer leftists activists trying to reform/act against the catholic church. like, this is the central element of this production.

(text on these signs reads, from l. to r.: No mandatory celibacy, God is a woman, Maria 2.0, #outinchurch, renewal now, the head of the fish is rotten. The banner reads "God is the love")

Many of these signs are references to reform movements inside the church and discussions around abuse of all kind in the catholic church, as well as demands for a more inclusive christianity (and society).

Jesus officates a wedding between two women apostels and everything is very gay. there are several rainbow flags involved. jesus is draped in a giant version of the flag at one point.

that being said, it is made pretty explicit that mary and jesus have some kind of relationship thing goin on??? They also sometimes seem removed from the rest of the group who have major found family vibes. they go on picnis and protests together, they care for each other, they dance, they sing, they cuddle. there was so much going on, I probably missed a lot of interactions between the apostels. Judas was very involved in the group, more than mary or jesus even, and judas and simon had a very cute friendship (they even play-fought in the beginning). They all hugged and kissed each other a lot as well. (Fun fact: many of the apostels are still in actors school and they did a cooperation with the staatstheater nuremberg which offered them the chance to participate in such a big production)

Now my thoughts on the individual characters:

Mary: sadly, my least favourite character in this production. i didn't really vibe with the actress, although she was great vocally. She rarely interacted with the apostels and kept mostly to herself and the apartment she shared with jesus and her child (I don't like the decision to have them live together almost like a nuclear family). it also did not help that she was noticeable older than the rest of the group and her costume wasn't great either. i loved her kid though, she was really cute (apparently, the gender of the kid changes depending on the child actor that day, here it was a girl). The child also connects the group, there were some cute found family vibes (although they could have done so much more with this ahhh). there are also several moments where the child symbolizes a brighter future to come, and hope, and innocence. she was such a cutie!!!!

This Jesus is a weirdo. Just a weird guy. Kinda Enjolras vibes, kinda angelic, kinda high as a kite beliefs in magic, depressed queer vibes. He would sometimes do weird motions with his hands to summon his powers to heal people????? his outfit was a statement as well.

I liked the acting, although the interpretation is one i had not seen before. The singing was pretty good, although the actors voice was a bit weak sometimes and he often had difficulty with belting higher notes. the actor has a very very soft voice in general??? it kinda contributed to the vibes of this jesus though and worked fine

I didn't like that they actually showed him being able to heal people, I like it more when it stays ambigious if he can actually do wonders/if he is actually the son of god. Interestingly, at the same time this Jesus felt very deserted by God to me? Gethsemane was very intense but also so absolutely defeated. it did not feel like a conversation with god but more pure desperation screamed into a void... This Jesus was really broken :( Also, the torture and whipping (which happens in the vatican???? kinda illegally???) was absolutely brutal and very bloody and he was sobbing in fetal position at several points of this production. also shaking like a little deer. in the last scenes, they filmed close-ups of his tortured face with a camera live and projected it on the large background screen which was very horrifiying and genius, especially during superstar. poor guy. he seemed very sad and burdened a lot of the time

Judas: There he is!!! My boi!!!! He was my absolute fave. The acting and singing was amazing, one of my fav interpretations of this character. The costume choices for him were amazing ( I mean look at him in that skirt and these boots) and this production chose to portray him in a very sympathetic light. He is the soul of the group in this production, while Jesus is the brain and Simon is the heart. (Peter is the bedrock, and Mary and her kid are honey-grease holding them together)

I mean, look at him!!! This judas cares so much, he contains multitudes. He is clearly loved by the people around and loves them back fiercely. He hugged people a lot and was very physical in general and the actor had so much charisma!!! In this version, Jesus and Judas also kind of seemed like two sides of the same coin, which I really liked. While Jesus is kind of otherworldy, charismatic, calm, and enigmatic, Judas is much more hands-on, real, passionate and energetic.

This Judas (like the whole production really) was very angry but he had every right to. In this production it also seemed like his anger at Mary and Jesus being with her was less about Mary (taking out some of the misogyny, luckily) and more about jesus retreating to something that could be perceived as a bourgouise lifestyle (my interpretation, at least). This judas seemed very queer but then again, most apostels in this production seemed to be queer. (The betrayal kiss was very passionate, btw)

Oh, and the cardinals waterboarded Judas with holy water in a church on wooden benches they put together??? And they also threatened and hurt him several other times??? I'm not sure what to feel about this because this makes the betrayal very very cooerced and that might flatten the character but it adds so many new layers as well. They also just push suitcase full of money on his arms and leave him there clutching the thing and sobbing??

Judas death ripped my heart out, it was so raw and cruel and also put emphasis on the cruelty of the catholic church and an uncaring or even cruel god?

and then he absolutely slayed in superstar. all the background dancers were the apostels (which was a deliberate choice because they had a huge cast they could have used for this), including Mary and they all had neon halos?? Judas descended from the ceiling. the staging was kinda similar to the 2012 revival with Judas as a show-caster and entertainer. there was golden glitter falling from the ceiling.

the whole production seemed very angry at institutionalized christianity and God himself but also full of hope and love, and superstar really examplified that.

Herode is the pope. Just straight up the pope. At first I was a bit underwhelmed because the set was very minimal bit then they revealed the pope and started their amazing choreography and I really loved that! just a good solid portrayal, very sexual as well. (this production was very much about hypocricy and not about condemming lust, the opposite really. this production is pretty sex-positive) 8/10

Caiaphas and Annas were pretty solid, like all the other high priests they were cardinals. I thought the actors did a good job although would have liked a deeper base for Caiaphas and a higher tenor for Annas. I thought it was interesting how often the priests/cardinals crossed themselves and blessed people and did christian gestures, especially during "This Jesus must die". They were also pretty violent both towards the apostels and towards jesus and judas.

Peter was really giving dark academia vibes except a bit more boring. I thought it was pretty funny that it was easy to tell that he was Peter just from the costume alone. he had a nice, warm voice and I liked the acting choices - he was very soft and calm, except for when he went absolutely wild on the SWAT team coming to arrest Jesus and broke a bottle to use a shard to cut of the ear (i suppose) of one of them. iconic. 8/10

Simon: what an icon! at one point, he carries petrol and a lighter around to fucking burn the whole thing to the ground. he is passionate and kind and ready to punch someone at any time. his acting and singing were really really good. At the last supper, Simon sucker punches Judas in the face and calls him a "fucking traitor" before shakily ending the song on his guitar to try and comfort the other apostels because their whole world just fell apart. I really love this Simon

Pilate: He had such a great voice and presence, and carried himself with a lot of gravitas. Pilates dream was very stripped down but it worked because of the actor. He seemed really desillusioned and kind but ultimately deafeated, conforming to the will of people around him (lower clergy and devout catholics in this version) (That reminds me, the ouverture was accompanied by various clergy making out in the vatican with each other while headlines about scandals in the church were projected in the background.

There are probably a lot of things I forgot to mention, and there were also some things I did not like about this production but overall, I am really really impressed and just happy that I got to see it live.

You can still see the production too btw, at least if you can make it to Nuremberg :)

[her-power]

The End of All Things (Part Two: e.m. x fem reader)

TRIGGER & C/W: 18++++ MDNI, Mama is serious!

Part One

Sweet! Semi-dom! Eddie, hurt/comfort, mostly fluff, death, talk of death, grief, descriptions of a deceased person, swearing, making out, smut, unprotected p in v (be smart, not dumb) oral/fingering outside (f receiving), shower sex, gentle choking, humor, more death talk, alcohol use, heavy drug use. This content has heavy subject material about death, dying and loss, please do not read if you are not comfortable with this. ESPECIALLY if you have recently experienced a loss and you are newly grieving. If you also feel something like this is gonna be therapeutic, do what you think feels right for you. I tried to be as accurate as possible, I put in my own experiences with funeral homes, etc

Summary: This follows the reader as they try to navigate this new love with their best friend Eddie Munson, while also navigating loss and what comes after. This takes place 5 years after S4. Reader & Eddie are in their mid twenties. The year is 1991. The song in this chapter is based off A Day to Remember song, so they get all the credit for it. I've decided to make this into 5 parts. I realized as I was writing this part there's been a theme each chapter that was completely unintentional and I'm really excited on how this is gonna go now. Enjoy!

Word Count: 13.3k

A/N: This is based off of a life changing event that happened to me when I was seventeen. This is for everyone who has suffered a loss of a loved one, a pet, a friend, a parent, a sibling. I see you and I love you. Thank you SO much for reading Part One. I honestly didn't think it was gonna get a lot of feedback like it has been, so I appreciate all of you beautiful people.

The late afternoon sun was bright and hot. The kids in the neighborhood were doing backflips in their pools, laughing and splashing each other as they welcome Summer with open arms. You sat in the living room with your father, and your uncle. All of you sat around the coffee table, and Eddie paces behind you, biting his thumbnail. Robin had come by the house earlier in the day, awkwardly and sweetly offering her condolences and almost having a full-blown happy tear crying fit when she realized you and Eddie were together.  

It had been two days since your mother’s death, and the funeral home needed answers on what to do with your mother’s body. 

“She wanted a viewing and then to be cremated after. Separate some of the ashes between us and bury her with your parents in Boston, at least, that’s what she wrote here.” Your father glances up from your mother’s document of her wishes that you didn’t even know she wrote and looks over at your Uncle Jimmy who only nodded. Jimmy hadn’t been back in Boston since they buried your grandparents, that was when you were still living there. 

Your knee bobs anxiously and sweat pools on your palms. Your rub your palms on your dark floral print spaghetti strap dress and awkwardly adjust your shoelaces on your docs. It was almost a hundred degrees outside; the air conditioner was doing next to nothing to keep the inside of your house cool. 

The thought of your mother laying on a cold table, naked, stiff, getting wiped down by a stranger, getting her make up done, and dressed into horrible clothing suddenly made your skin crawl. 

“I want to do it.” You say out loud, and you feel their eyes on you.

“Do what?” Your father asks you. He was unshaven, dark circles were prominent under his eyes. 

“I want to choose her outfit, dress her, clean her. Do her make up—"

“Absolutely not.” Your father interrupts you. 

“Why?” Your eyes narrow at him, and you feel Eddie stiffen behind you.  “She was my mother.” 

“Y/N, there’s professional people for a reason for that. I’m not going to subject you to seeing your mother’s body in that condition. You need to remember her alive, not like that.” 

“I don’t want some fucking stranger touching her. I’m doing it. They allow family to do it.” You raise your voice, and your father pinches the bridge of his nose. 

Eddie says your name, putting his hand on your shoulder. You flinch away from him, glancing up into his eyes. 

“You agree with him, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do. Sweetheart, you’re going to be seeing her body. Before the wake, the funeral. You shouldn’t see her like that.” He tells you sweetly and you roll your eyes, standing up from the couch. 

“If you don’t tell them, I will.” You look at your father. “She was my mother. And I’ll be damned if someone makes her look like a dime store whore. Call them and tell them I’m doing it.” 

Your father looks at you with sad eyes and nods once. Jimmy doesn’t say a word, tears fill his eyes, and he fixes his eyes on your mother's picture. Eddie stares at you, his hands gripping the back of couch and he shakes his head at you. 

“What?” You snap. “You got something to say, say it.” You instantly felt guilty for snapping, but you were exhausted. Every night since her death you were having nightmares, and Eddie was there for you through it all. Only stopping home once to check on Wayne and work a few hours at the record store. 

He stares at you, biting his bottom lip, eyes slightly narrowing, he sucks in air through his teeth. “I think you need to just stop and think for a minute.” 

You scoff, turning on your heel and storming out the back porch. You find your dad’s pack of Marlboro cigarettes. You weren’t a smoker, maybe the occasional social smoker when having a little too much to drink, but at this moment, you needed a little buzz, and if nicotine was the way to go, you didn’t hold back. The smoke billows in your lungs, and you lean back against the deck railing. Eddie comes out soon after, clad in his ripped black jeans, an Iron Maiden t-shirt and dirty converse. 

“This is crazy.” He tells you, his eyes wide with concern but no hint of judgement. 

You push yourself off the railing and walk down the steps to the backyard, you weren’t in the mood to talk anymore. 

“Stop. Just stop for a minute.” He steps in front of you, and you glare up at him. 

He sees the cigarette in your hand, his eyebrows furrow, you could tell his mind was spinning. “Give me this!” He takes the butt of your hand, inhaling on it once and flicks it behind him. 

“Spit it out, Eddie!” You were losing your patience. 

“I want you to stop and think about this, please.” He places his hands on your upper arms, you tense under his touch and gaze. “This is a body. A dead body. Your mother’s body. You are going to be alone with her. The morticians completely disconnect when they dress up a body for a viewing; you’re her daughter. You can’t disconnect.” 

You feel your anger creeping up your throat, the grief pulling at your heart, the hot tears in the corner of your eyes. “She’s mymother. Mine. You of all people should know why I’m doing this, but per usual, you’re fucking clueless!” 

He lets his arms fall. “What are you talking about?” 

“You have been hearing me scream myself awake for two nights. The nightmares are getting so bad, I feel like I’m walking into one even when I’m awake. I need to see her.” You say, gritting your teeth, and you fist the hem of his t-shirt. “This is the only way. Only way I know this isn’t some fucking dream I can wake up from. I’m doing this because I need to see that she’s really dead.” 

He stares you, the brightness from the sun made his eyes look almost gold, you put your hand over your stomach, clenching your hand into the fabric of your dress and quickly wipe a tear away. 

“Y/N, sweetheart, you’re gonna see her at the wake.” He says gently. 

“Eddie, just stop trying to be Mr. Logical and be my best friend for ten fucking seconds. How many times have I’ve tried to talk you out of something stupid? Let’s see, there’s the time you jumped the school fence to rewire the speakers so everytime the principal would get on the intercom PORN would start playing through the speakers. Or the time you stole your neighbor's car so we could catch the last showing of A Nightmare on Elm Street 4 at the drive in, in Indianapolis because the stupid van was broken or the time—"

“You’re comparing the stupid shit I did to bathing your mother's body?!” His voice rises almost comedically. “Jesus H. Christ! What I do is STUPID. What you’re wanting to do is fucking INSANE.” 

“Then I’m insane!” You yell, letting out a laugh, your hands slap against your thighs, and you shrug, a slight pain hits your chest. “Eddie, I need you to support me with this, even if you don’t like it, or if it’s weird or gross.” 

His eyes dart to yours, wide and glassy. “You think I’m freaking out because I think it’s gross? I’m freaking out because it fucking breaks me everytime I hear you cry or scream or say her name and I’m left fucking speechless because I don’t know how to help you. I can see the pain in your eyes and hear it when you speak, and it’s only been two days. You have a lifetime of this, and I don’t want this to be the thing that makes you slip away from me.” 

Your stomach does a back flip, and you feel even more guilty than you did before. You step closer to him, reaching your hand up, curling your hand through his hair. 

“I’m not gonna slip away.” 

“You don’t know that.” He says, tiredly. His right hand grips your waist and gently pulls you towards him. “You’re scaring me.” 

“When have I ever let you down?” You say, giving him a small smile and he tilts his head at you, raising his eyebrows 

You laugh, squeezing your eyes shut. “Don’t say the Iron Maiden show. I got the stomach bug, that wasn’t my fault.” 

He laughs, smoothing down your hair. “Yeah, you were pretty gross that night.” 

“You’re the only who decided to stay.” You poke him in the chest. “Sorry you were fed false information that girls don’t shit.” 

He laughs, holding you closer to him, your back slightly arches as you look up at him. “Do you trust me?” 

“Of course I do.” 

“Then let me be with her. Let me do this for her.” You cup his cheek, poking his dimple. “I promise you that I will be okay.” 

He lets out a low growl and you smirk. “I hate how fucking convincing you always are.” His hands squeeze your waist. “It’s annoying.” 

“But, ya love me!” You give him a goofy grin and he scrunches up his nose. 

“Yeaaaah…kind of regretting opening my mouth now.” He laughs when you slap his chest. “I’m kidding, you loser!” 

You laugh, going up on your toes to kiss dimple. You gently pat his shoulder and nod towards the house. “Come on, let’s get this over with.” You take his hand and walk quietly back into your home.

You had ended up compromising with your father about the whole ordeal. He wanted the funeral home to embalm your mother first and place her undergarments on themselves. You reluctantly agreed and had said for you to be at the funeral home the day before to get her ready for the viewing. Which was on Tuesday, in three days. That gave you plenty of time to decide what outfit to choose for her. You promised yourself you would wait for tomorrow; tonight, Eddie was performing at the Hideout with Corroded Coffin. It had been a long time since the band had performed there. The shitty part of growing up was responsibilities, and you all had a lot of them. Eddie was the assistant manager at the record store. Saturdays were the biggest money-making day for them, but the store owner/manager Sully had promised he could take the day to practice and to perform because it would be another long while before the band got back together. Also, Sully had a soft spot for you, and when he had heard about what happened to your mother, he had sent two bouquets of beautiful flowers to your house, along with a check for $500, which you planned on giving back to him. You worked at the Barnes and Noble in the city, and since you had been there for five years, the owners were nice enough to give you two weeks off.  Unpaid, but you were good with saving.

Gareth was the first one to greet you as soon as you walked into the door of the Hideout, he hugged you so tightly you thought your bones would break. You spot Eddie coming out the back door, he had changed into a torn up black v neck, exposing more of his chest tattoos. He was carrying an amp as you make your way towards the back, he spots you, smiles goofily at you and he struggles a little bit with the weight of it. You giggle, grabbing the other side of the amp and helping him place it gently on the ground. 

“Looks like you’re losing your strength there, buddy.” You say with a wink. “Haven’t seen you struggle with an amp since 10th grade.” 

He rolls his eyes and laughs. “You just caught me off guard, is all.” His eyes dilate, a familiar lust is in his gaze, and you blush. You were in the same outfit as earlier, just with added red lipstick. 

“You knew I was coming early.” You say, tucking your hair behind your ear and he smiles, pulling you towards him by your hips. 

“I know, I just stop breathing whenever you walk into a room.” His lips gently graze yours and you lean back slightly, looking up at him with a grin. 

“You are so lame, you know that?” You laugh.

He scrunches his nose, and he laughs, pulling back from you. “Yeah, you know me too well. I suck at trying to be romantic. Give me a good D&D story line, and I’ll write the next best campaign, but romance…yuck.” 

“Just watch 9 ½ weeks, you’ll learn a thing or two.” You wink at him. 

His face falls and he laughs. “I didn’t know you saw that movie, you dirty, dirty pervert.” 

You giggle, biting your lip, stepping away from the stage to grab a drink. “Have you seen Kim Basinger in that film? I’d let that woman take full advantage of my body and be strapped to the bed for the rest of my life.” 

The familiar lust appears in his eyes again and he lets out a low growl. “You can’t say stuff like that to me before I go on stage.” His neck muscles clench as he swallows hard. 

“Why not?” You blow him a kiss, stick out your tongue and throw up the devil horns. As you turn around, you feel the cool metal of his rings wrap around your wrist and he spins you around, crashing his lips to yours. He hungrily slips his tongue into your mouth; you moan quietly, and he holds your face in his hands.

“Five minutes, all I need is you and five minutes in the bathroom.” He says breathlessly. 

You shake your head, smirking. “Sorry, Casanova. You’re gonna have to wait. Our friends are here.” You both glance at the door, seeing Steve and Robin walk through the doors; Eddie groans, resting his forehead against yours. 

“I literally hate you.” He whispers to you, and you laugh. His hands grip at the fabric of your dress, squeezing your hip, causing your dress to rise up your thigh slightly.

“Whoaaaa, getting a little handsy there, eh Munson?” Steve says with a smirk and Eddie rolls his eyes. Steve hugs you tightly, whispering a sweet condolence in your ear, causing a dull ache in your tummy. “Heard you two finally admitted your feelings for each other. Heard it was all over the house too.” 

Both you and Eddie’s eyes snap to Robin who is just smiling. “Robin! No one needs to know that.” 

“I’m sorry it just slipped out! I was so happy that you were finally together, and I couldn’t control it. We literally had a bet how long it was gonna take and I won.” 

“You guys are great friends.” Eddie says with an eye roll and a chuckle, kissing the side of your head, whispering. “You’re mine after the show.” 

A blush creeps on your cheeks and you bring your lips to his ear. “Kim Basinger.”  

He eyes you hungrily, biting his bottom lip. “Again, I hate you.” 

He walks away from you with a wink, and you giggle. You sit down at the stools with Steve and Robin, you order yourself a beer. There was surprisingly a lot of patrons in the bar tonight you notice as you look around. It was a whole eclectic group of individuals. Metalheads, town drunks who kept to themselves, and high schoolers with fake IDs. You watch as Eddie places Sweetheart over his shoulder and adjust the microphone. He throws Sweetheart over his shoulder, and smiles when Steve whoops. 

“Atmosphere hasn’t changed. It’s been a while since we’ve performed here. Thank you for being here, it is much appreciated.” His voice echoes through the microphone and you feel your stomach do a back flip. “We’re Corroded Coffin, and this is an original song.” 

He flips Sweetheart to his chest, looks at you over his eyelashes and winks at you. He glances back at Gareth who nods and hits the snare and then the double bass pedal, Eddie strums down, the buzz of the electric vibrating, and the bass rumbles through the building. They play like that for a few breaks, and Eddie starts to sing. You feel the music through your veins, remember when they wrote this song in your room during a horrendous snowstorm and your mother had made them all hot chocolate. 

You mouth along the words with Eddie: Violent delights, violent ends, end of heartache in this prison, not coming back, twisting the blade, blade of the dying, a dying wish, a dying wish, watching you fall, fall from grace, who’s gonna carry your casket? Who’s gonna carry your casket? 

Gareth wails on the drums, the double bass thrumming through your ears as Eddie goes into an electric guitar breakdown, head banging and dancing around the stage. You felt more relaxed, every horrible moment and feelings from the last few days disappearing as the music wraps you up like a blanket.  

Robin was cheering and whooping, moving her whole body to beat. Steve was trying his best to look like he wasn’t enjoying it, but his foot tapped along to the beat, and he drummed his hands along his thighs. You were vibing with the beat, your whole body moving, your hair whipping around as Eddie strummed his last cord, whipped around, met your eyes and that lust appeared again, only it was coming from you. He smirks at you and finishes the song, repeating the chorus, screaming the last line of words into the microphone and the song ends with a final drum solo. 

Eddie couldn’t believe the reaction they got from some of the patrons. Most of you ended up getting free drinks, Steve had to peel Robin away from a much older woman who was ready to eat her up if she asked, and seconds later you were holding her hair back in the bathroom as she vomited and cried about the beautiful woman who looked like Phoebe Cates from Fast Times. You had to tie your own hair back, because she was making you laugh so hard your hair kept falling in the toilet, the stalls were so tiny. You felt bad for laughing, but you had a good buzz on, and Robin was one of the funniest people you knew. Eddie made Steve pull his car around back to make it easier to get Robin out safely. She could barely walk; Eddie had stood outside the door, watching the struggle as you tried to pull Robin out of the bathroom by dragging her under the arms. He could’ve helped sooner, but watching you struggle gave him so much joy his stomach hurt from laughing. 

You groan, pulling her towards you, but you end up slipping on a wet spot and you both tumble to the ground. Robin’s face was awkwardly smushed against your chest and you glare up at Eddie from the floor, who was still laughing. 

“Help me, asshole!” You yell at him, trying your best not to laugh. 

“No, this is heaven for me.” Robin mutters, nuzzling her head in your chest. You pat her head and Eddie wipes the tears from his eyes. 

“Okay, okay, come on, you big flirt.” Eddie says to Robin, squatting down and lifting her off you, throwing her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. You lift yourself up off the floor and wipe the dirt and grime off your dress. Your hair was already falling out of the hair tie, and you follow them out the back door where Steve was waiting with the car. You heard Robin gag; Eddie looks at you with panic in his eyes and Steve helps him set her down. You quickly look for something she could vomit in and find a dirty trash bin, kicking the lid off it as you hold back Robin’s hair once again. 

“Oh, my little weirdo.” Steve says, gently rubbing her back as she vomited out pure liquid. Once she was done, and everything looked like it was out of her system, you and Eddie help her in the passenger seat of the car.

“I love you guys.” Robin says with a grin, patting Eddie’s face. “If you hurt her, I will murder you. Wait, did you smoke? Gross!” 

“I love you too, Rob.” Eddie says, kissing the top of her head. “Get her home safe.” He says to Steve and Steve laughs. 

“Wish me luck, I thought I was done being a babysitter.” He scoffs and laughs. 

“Not with your best friend, buddddy!” Robin says, blowing drunk kisses at the two of you as Steve drives away. You wave and shake your head, your stomach hurting from laughing the rest of the night.

“Ten bucks she pukes in his car.” You say, nudging him. 

“Twenty she pukes on his lap.” He holds out his hand to shake yours and you take it, agreeing to the bet.

“Deal.” You say with a chuckle. 

You pull your hair out of the hair tie and let it fall, you scratch at your scalp to soothe the tightness from it. Eddie puts his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. 

“Wanna get out of here?” He asks, pressing his lips to your hair. 

You sigh, leaning into him. “You okay to drive?” 

He nods and laughs, guiding you towards the van that was hidden in the darkness of the back parking lot. “Made myself sober up when I saw how drunk Robin got. You good?”

“Yeah, just a buzz.” A loud, long yawn escapes you and you laugh. “I don’t want to go home yet.”

“Where do you wanna go, sleepyhead?” He chuckles, rustling your hair. 

He unlocks the passenger side door for you, and you stare up at him, leaning against the door panel. You reach up, tucking a strand of curly hair behind his ear, run your thumb along his jaw as you cup his cheek. There was so much you wanted to tell him; how you didn’t believe you’d still be standing if he hadn’t been your best friend during this time; how you were so forever grateful for him and his big, beautiful heart. He smiles sweetly at you. 

“Nowhere yet.” You say softly, pulling his face towards yours. 

Your lips press against his, opening your mouth into a slow, passionate kiss. He places his palm on your lower back, pulling you against him. He tasted like beer, cigarettes, and a hint of mouthwash. He cups the side of your face, his fingers curling into your hair. A warmth settles in your tummy and between your legs, a loving ache that you’ve started to grow used to these last few days. You breathe heavily as you pull yourself away from his mouth, he stumbles into you a little, letting out a throaty chuckle, resting his forehead on your shoulder. 

You kiss his neck, catching him by surprise as you graze your teeth near the tender spot under his ear, causing him to shudder and groan softly; you bring your mouth to his ear. “I thought I was yours after the show?”

A low growl rumbles in his throat and you feel his hold tighten around your waist as he lifts you up onto the passenger seat, you squeal with delight. You try to tuck your legs under the glove box, but he pulls them back towards him, smiling under the moonlight. Your dress had risen on your thighs a little, and you shudder as his hands move up your legs, and onto your inner thighs, tugging at seam of your underwear while he stood outside the door.

You realize just then what he planned on doing, your eyes widen. “No, Eddie, someone will see.” 

“No, they won’t, trust me.” He grins at you, leaning up his chin to kiss your lips. His tongue opens your mouth, and you gasp when you feel him palm you over the fabric of your underwear. He still kisses you, moving your underwear to the side, his fingers lightly dancing against your clit. 

Your head falls back automatically, lightly knocking against the gear shift and you quietly moan. He gazes up at you, giving you that smirk, resting his chin against the hills of your breasts. 

“Louder.” He says, pulling the fabric of the top your dress down with his teeth, exposing one your breasts. You gasp again once you feel his tongue swirl around your nipple. He kisses and sucks, pulling away with a groan. “Louder.” 

He shoves two fingers deep inside you and you moan, loud. He brings his mouth back to your breast and gently bites the skin around your nipple, moaning with you as he pulls away, slinking his way down your tummy, until he’s kneeling on the metal step. He pulls his fingers out of you, smiling and placing your left leg over his shoulder. He pushes your dress up, kneading and tugging at your meaty thighs, his hot breath hits your cunt.

“Get loud for me, baby.” He whispers sexily and you feel your pussy clench at his words. 

A sound escapes you when you feel his tongue lick a long stripe from your hole to your clit, and he gently sucks. You pull his hair and groan, holding onto the head rest as another loud moan escapes you. He moans, burying his face into you, gripping your thighs hard, flicking his tongue out, you feel your toes curl in your boots. He lets out a groan and runs his finger down your clit and places two back inside you. You clench around his fingers, your back arches, and you get loud. You completely forget you were only a few feet away from the back exit of the Hideout, and you smile, realizing you didn’t care anymore. He looks up at you and you meet his eyes, he curls his fingers inside you and warmth crept up your belly. You let out a breath, and make yourself sit up more, wiggling your hips to get him to pull away from your clit. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow and you grab fistfuls of his shirt, pulling him up to your mouth until he’s climbing into the van, kissing you deeply. You crawl backwards in the driver side, pull him to where you were sitting and quickly unbutton his pants, pulling his hardened cock out of his zipper. 

He opens his mouth to say something but you’re already on top of him, kissing him again and lowering yourself onto his cock and he groans in your mouth. He holds onto your hips as you slam your ass up and down, the two of you getting louder and louder with every movement, every roll of your hips. 

“I’m yours now?” You whisper breathlessly to him, holding his face to look into his eyes, your mouth falls open in a moan.

“Yeah…unghh…yeah, fuck.” His eyes roll back in his head, a throaty groan escaping him, and you smile, moving your hips faster. 

“Good.” 

You stood in your bedroom that Monday, looking back and forth between two outfits you had picked out for your mother. The rain pitter-pattered on the roof, and you pull the hood of the sweatshirt you stole from Eddie over your head. The first outfit was a lavender button up maxi dress with sleeves, her favorite pair of Mary Jane shoes, a gold necklace with an emerald pendant. The second outfit was a dress she had worn on her twenty-five-year wedding anniversary, it was a soft blue, fitted at the waist and had floral print sewn on the chiffon skirt. Your father and uncle Jimmy were out looking for suits to wear. You didn’t sleep last night. You toss and turned, the house so eerily silent. You barely dreamt because you barely slept, and you were a little grateful for that. 

Eddie wanted to come with you today, but you knew this was something you had to do alone. He had to work at the store today and knew he would get clumsy when he was distracted so you can only imagine that the store was in shambles, and he was probably letting out high pitched yells and screaming “Fuck!” every sentence. Which made you laugh thinking about, the never-ending chaos of that man was something he should be proud of. 

Any shade of your purple was your mother’s favorite color, and you were happy with your decision when you drove silently to the funeral home and glance at her lavender dress hanging on the hook in the backseat. You decided on her sterling silver ruby pendant because you wanted the emerald one for yourself, selfishly. You tuck the pendant under your shirt and flick the radio on. James Taylor’s voice came through the speakers singing one of your favorites, and you lean back in your seat, reminiscing to yourself about the car rides like this with your mother. The rain let up a little, leaving little sprinkles of raindrops on your windshield. You had the copy of the death certificate you needed to give the funeral home in the back pocket of your jeans, you didn’t look at it yet; you weren’t sure if you were going to. 

Foster & Sons Funeral Home peaks out on the corner of a little side street and you pull down the long driveway into the spacious parking lot. You suddenly felt very small, and your heart began pounding in your chest. 

Eddie was right, this was insane. 

You rest your head against the steering wheel, inhaling through your nose and out your mouth slowly. Your hands tremble and you look up, seeing one of the directors standing by the front door. The man looked like Lurch from the Addams Family and you swallow back a cackle of a laugh because why would anything be normal about this? 

“Okay.” You tell yourself, breathing in deeply. “Okay. This is fine. This is fucking fine. She’s not even in there. It’s just a body. It’s just a body.” 

You awkwardly wave to Lurch who doesn’t even move, take out your makeup bag and your mother’s dress out of the backseat. Walking up the stone steps you can already smell the overwhelming aromas of the flowers through the door, you walk past him to the lobby, looking to your right, seeing a whole line of wreaths, standing sprays and bouquet after bouquet through the double doors to the viewing room. You pause, not bringing yourself to go in there yet and look up at Lurch who waited patiently for you. 

“Where do I go?” You ask him. “Oh.” You pull out the death certificate from your back pocket, and your hands shake as you hand it to him.

He takes it from you, giving you a soft smile. “Come with me.” Okay, Vincent Price, you think to yourself and smirk. You decided his new name was Vincent Lurch Price. What the fuck is wrong with my brain? Why are you making up names during this time? Why is he so tall? Is he wearing lifts? What the fuck am I doing here? I’ve lost it. I’m crazy. I’m fucking crazy. 

You follow him down a long stretch of hallway and were honestly surprised how big the place was. The floor was a checkboard marble, and your converse scuffed as you hurried alongside Lurch. There’s a tiny elevator he takes you to, and you step in, your stomach drops when he hits the button, and you are both lowered to the basement. 

It smelled like a haunted house. 

He leads you down a small corridor, towards a few tiny offices and stops outside a blurred glass door that says Authorized Personnel Only. He stands by the door and glances down at you. 

“She’s through there.” 

“In there?” You point to the door. “I just go in?”

He nods. 

“She is prepared for you; her modesty is protected. She has been embalmed so don’t be alarmed if the skin feels different. I will be down the hall if you need me.” He walks away from you, and you watch as his tall form disappears down the corridor. You glance back at the door and your hand hovers over the doorknob. Sighing, you push open the door. 

The first thing you notice was how bright it was in there, you had to squint your eyes; it was so clean, and cold. It just looked like an empty basement to you, with drains, and metal tables. There was a separate door that was ajar, labeled Mortician. You slowly walk towards that door, your heart pounding in your chest. Opening the door with your foot you spot the table, and there she was, covered with a clean white sheet. You stand there for a few moments, staring at the sheet. 

There’s a wooden table leaning against the wall to the right of her, you finally find your footing and rest the dress and the make-up bag carefully on the table. You rub the sweat off your palms on your jeans and let out a shaky breath. 

You put your hands on either side of the corner of the sheet and pull it down, you squeeze your eyes shut. You open your eyes, and you look down. Your breathing picks up as you stare at her, you walk backwards, your lower back hits the table and you yelp quietly. The sheet only fell a little past her shoulders, they had fastened a type of bra around her chest. Her skin looked almost gray, and you had to swallow back the bile that stuck in your throat. There was a small incision near her left collarbone, and you caught a glimpse of the autopsy stitch peeking out from the top of the sheet. Her hair was already styled neatly in the way she always wore it; you step closer. Tears fall from your eyes as you look at her face. This was your mother, but it wasn’t. You reach your hand out, carefully running your fingers down her cheekbone and you snap your hand back. It felt like a statue, it was hard, cold. You close your eyes, breathing in through your nose and then out. 

Moving closer, you reach out your hand, and smooth out her hair. Tears fall from your eyes on to the table next to where she lay. You imagined she was only sleeping, her beautiful face relaxed, a soft smile on her face. You take out your favorite picture of her and place it next to her head.  The next hour felt like a blur as you quietly put the make up on her face. You had asked Lurch to assist you in dressing her, after your attempt to do it yourself you almost vomited at your feet because you didn’t realize how stiff her entire body would be. Once she was dressed, Lurch gave you a minute with her. 

She looked more like herself, but you realize she didn’t look like she was sleeping. She looked dead. You silently chuckle to yourself, knowing that would be something she would say, and you felt slightly comforted by that. You wipe your tears away with your shirt sleeve, and lean down, leaving a soft kiss on her forehead. You look at her one last time, your legs feeling weighed down by cement blocks. 

You didn’t want to leave her alone. 

You feel a heavy hand on your shoulder, and you become startled, Lurch was giving you a sympathetic smile. “You will see her again tomorrow. She looks lovely.” 

You glance up at him, your eyes filling with tears, and you nod. He leads you out of the room and you silently cry as you both make your way up to the lobby. Before you leave, he hands you the death certificate, informing you that they already had a copy, and you take it with shaky hands. 

The walk to your car felt long, the sun was out, and the temperate had risen. You take off Eddie’s hoodie and tie it around your waist, your black tank top was sticking to you in all the wrong places. You plop in your car, put the keys in the ignition and crank the windows down. You throw the make-up bag in the backseat and feel the crinkle of the death certificate in your back pocket. Lifting yourself, you pull it from your pocket and study it with your hands. It was folded in threes, and you realize you’re holding reasons why your mother was dead. 

You cave.

You open the paper, and your eyes immediately notice the typewriter print.

Time of death: 6:00pm

Cause of death: Natural

Findings: Pulmonary embolism, myocardial infarction, renal failure, congestive heart failure (ongoing)

Congestive heart failure? Since when?

A sound so deep and guttural escapes your lungs and you let out a scream. The paper falls to the floor and you slam your hand on the steering wheel, once, twice, three times. 

You barely say a word to your father when you walked in. You had driven around for hours until it was almost dark. You muttered you were going for a walk when he asked what you were doing, and that Eddie had called a bunch of times looking for you. You grabbed some cash from your drawer and shove it in your back pocket. You head towards the front door and your father stops you.

“Please, honey. Tell me where you’re going.” He looks desperate and you felt like the biggest piece of shit in the world. He was grieving her too.

“I’m just going for a walk.” You sigh. “I’m going to a bar. I’m not gonna be late.” 

“What happened at the funeral home?” 

“Nothing happened.” You tell him, shaking your head. “Nothing happened. It was just a body.”

Stop trying to be brave, dumbass.

He stares at you. “Let Eddie go with you.”

“No.” You snap and then groan. “No, I’ll be okay. I just need to be alone.” 

“Y/N…tomorrow is the funeral…please…please don’t be stupid.” His eyes look sad, and your heart breaks.

“I’m not!” You groan. “Daddy, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to yell. I’m not gonna be stupid, I promise.” 

You open the door and step out, feeling his eyes on you as you walk down your driveway towards the end of your street. You hated lying to him, you were gonna be stupid, but you felt like you deserved to be stupid.

The walk to the bar only took twenty minutes, it was newer, recently opened within the last year. A lot more of the townies went there, some newly 21-year-olds, a far cry from what you were used to from the Hideout. It was a nice hole in the wall, two pool tables in back, a bar that was shaped like a half rectangle, and some high-top tables. You find a stool and sit on it, throwing a twenty-dollar bill on the bar and ask the bartender for a shot of bourbon and a beer. You wipe the dried tears off your face and knock back the bourbon. You realize you hadn’t eaten, but that never stopped you before. 

Eddie was panicking when he hadn’t heard from you after coming back from the funeral home. He was pretty sure your father wanted to kill him after the third phone call, and he told him you were still not home. The phone rang loud in the trailer when Eddie walked up the steps from returning home from the record store, he tripped over the rug as he ran to pick up the receiver, getting his foot tangled around the guitar cord in the process. “Fucking christ!” He grumbles, placing the phone to his ear and untangling himself. Your father tells him that you took off on a walk and had said you were going to a bar, but didn’t say which one, and that he had a weird feeling. Eddie tells him he’s going to look for you and hangs up, rushing outside to his van. He knew you wouldn’t be at the Hideout; it would be too obvious. He speeds out of the trailer park, trying to remember which bars were in the area. 

                         The cold water feels good against your face as you pat it dry from the napkin in the bathroom. You could feel the bourbon coursing through your blood stream and sigh. You wash your hands thoroughly, glancing in the mirror as the stall door opens behind you and a young beautiful blonde comes out, vigorously wiping at her nose. She had a glass mirror in her hand and places it on sink next to you, wiping at her face and washing her hands. You could see the residue of the white powder on the mirror, and your heart rate picks up a little. Was it anticipation? Fear? Adrenaline? 

The blonde sees you looking at the mirror and smirks. “All you have to do is ask, pretty.”

“Oh…no, I wasn’t. I didn’t…no thank you.” You smile awkwardly and dry off your hands. The blonde shrugs, applying mascara on her lashes. 

You walk towards the door, gripping the handle but you pause. Memories and thoughts scramble in your brain as you remember the last time you did a drug stronger than weed. You were nineteen and Steve was having a house party. You had drunkenly stumbled into the garage, seeing a few people you didn’t recognize, separating the cocaine between each other. You remember you didn’t even hesitate, you didn’t know why, but as soon as that dollar bill hit your nostril you fell in love. You felt like you could fly, you felt happy and excited all at once, you felt like nothing could harm you. That was the one and only time you fell in love with cocaine. You swore to yourself you would never do it again because of how much you loved it, how sometimes it felt like the missing piece within you whenever you felt down. 

You turn to look at the blonde and she glances at you through the mirror, smiling. She nods to the stall behind her, and you follow her. She locks the door, the two of you sit knee to knee as she takes out the mirror, placing it on the lip of the toilet seat. You thought that was kind of gross, but after she sprinkled the powder on the mirror, she took a hardcover book from her purse and placed it in her lap, which made you feel a little bit better about your decision. She separated two lines and rolled up a dollar bill. 

“Oh, here.” You tell her, handing her a ten-dollar bill. 

“Save your money, you look like you need this.” She smiles at you, her face dips towards the mirror and she snorts. You watch as the powder disappears up the straw and her head falls back and she sighs, smiling. 

She hands you the bill, and you take it, your hands shaking. But again, you didn’t hesitate. You cover one of your nostrils with your finger, and breathe in. The back of your throat immediately goes numb when you feel the postnasal drip down your throat, your nose stung a little. You sigh, wiping the excess from your nose and leaning your back against the stall door. Your lips tingle and your head feels a little heavy, but you smile. 

Oh, how you smile.

Eddie ends up finding you in the bar, dancing to Joan Jett by the jukebox with the blonde girl. The two of you had already been to the bathroom three more times, and you were very high. He could see a difference in you, but he doesn’t say anything, he couldn’t yet. You willingly leave with him, telling the blonde girl, whose name you immediately forgot. As soon as you are outside the bar, he scowls at you.

“I’ve been calling you all fucking day.” 

You glare up at him, tightening the sweatshirt around your waist, stumbling awkwardly. “I’ve been a little busy.”

“Getting high, I can see.” He was mad, and there wasn’t an ounce of you that felt bad about it.

“Oh fuck off, Eddie. I had fun. What’s wrong with having a little fun?”

He lets out a humorless chuckle. “Your mother’s funeral is tomorrow. Was it really that bad at the funeral home?”

“No!” You yell. “Fuck, I did cocaine. So what? At least I made sure it was before doing it, unlike someone who snorted a whole fucking line of heroin.” He abruptly stops walking.

“Don’t throw that back in my face! I don’t regret much but that is one of the things I fucking regret in my life and you know that!” Pain flashes in his eyes and you immediately hate yourself for bringing it up. He stops walking and stops at the door of his van. “Get in, you’re not going back home like this. You’re gonna sleep it off at my place.”

“Nah, I’m good.” You say through your teeth.

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You are the biggest pain in the ass, get in the van.”

“No.” You cross your arms over your chest. 

He stares at you, shaking his head. Before you could protest, he’s picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder. You scream loud, and he opens the back of the van, dropping you down on the smelly, shag rug you always hated. 

“Eddie!” You scream. “Son of a bitch!”

He shuts the back of the van and you forgot that it would lock from the outside. He gets in the driver side and peels away from the sidewalk. You awkwardly stumble towards his seat. 

“This is kidnapping!” You say to him, awkwardly crawling into the passenger seat, and plopping down. You bump your head on the glove box, and he holds back a laugh.

“I’m not stopping you from jumping out the next light, sweetheart.” He looks over at you, smiling that stupid smile. 

You cross your arms over your chest and lean back, grinding your teeth. You were coming down from the drugs. “Just take me home.”

“No, your dad has already been through enough, he doesn’t need to see his only daughter coming down from a drug binge before his wife’s funeral.” He takes a sharp turn into the trailer park, and you don’t answer him. Knowing he was right, but you weren’t about to admit that to him. 

He parks in front of the trailer, and you feel his eyes on you, you both sit there in silence. “Why?” He finally asks you quietly.

“Because I wanted to feel something different.” You say, not meeting his eyes. 

“Do you have any more on you?” 

“Nope.” You tell him. “Kind of wish I did; it would make the rest of this fucking night tolerable.” 

You see a flash of hurt in his eyes and he scoffs, pushing the door open with his shoulder and slamming it shut. You watch as he goes inside, the screen door shutting with a slam. You run your hands through your hair and bring your knees up to your chest. This is the second time tonight you’ve hurt his feelings, and you knew part of it was the drugs. For almost a week he has been with you, taking care of you, making you laugh, joking with you, making love to you and you return the favor by being an asshole. 

You were so angry. Not just at yourself, but at everything. Angry that your mother was dead, angry that a simple surgery caused your mother’s apparently already weak heart to give out, angry that you had to figure out how to navigate this already crazy life without her. Angry that you hurt your best friend not once, but twice. 

Angry. Fucking angry. 

You step out of the van and step into his trailer. He was in the small kitchen with his shirt off, putting together sandwiches. It was very warm in his trailer. He didn’t look up when you walked in. You untie his hoodie and place it on the back of the chair. You watch as his back muscles clench when he reaches for two plates in the higher cabinets. You study him, the large tattoo on his back that started from his back right shoulder, all the way down to the curve of his hip. His jeans hung low at his waist; you could make out the small pieces of hair sticking out from his happy trail. 

“Where’s Wayne?” You manage to ask quietly. 

“Another overnight.” He mutters. “He won’t be back til late morning.” He puts a plate with the sandwich in front of you, it clanked loudly on the small table and the sound made you jump. He sits down on the couch, his boot clad feet rest against the coffee table and he turns on the television, still not making eye contact. You weren’t hungry, but it felt rude not to eat, you pick away at the crust from the bread. 

“You don’t have to eat it; I was just being nice.” He mumbles. He was really upset with you, and the pain in your chest got bigger as you stare at his form. 

“Eddie, I—”

“You can have my bed. It’s late, you have a big day tomorrow. I already called your dad.” He finally meets your eyes. There was nothing behind them except pure, unfiltered, hurt. Defeated, you nod, silently walking back to his room, closing the door quietly. 

Eddie watches his door close with you disappearing and leans forward on his knees, placing the sandwich he didn’t know why he made on the coffee table, holding his hands to his mouth. Part of him knew it was the drugs making you act the way, and the other part knew it was you trying to manage your own emotions with the grief. It didn’t stop the hurt he felt in his chest though; certain moments from a long time ago were brought up that he wishes never resurfaced. 

He wishes it never resurfaced because now he won’t stop thinking about it. He remembers thinking he was snorting was cocaine, but as soon as it went into his airways, he knew he had fucked up. He had vomited so hard afterwards, and wanted to kill whoever supplied the stuff. Then he started to feel it, really feel it. And everything else was over for him after that. He made the same promise to himself that you did, he would never touch the stuff again. But you broke that promise, and he doesn’t know what to do with that information. 

You wake up the next morning with a groan, the sun was peeking through his broken blinds, and you squint. You had stripped down to your bra and underwear in the middle of the night, you had forgotten to turn on his air conditioner. You can hear the shower running and you sit up. Your head was pounding, not just from the hangover, but from the amount of cocaine you did the night before. 

A pain hits your chest when you realize how awful you were to him last night. You shouldn’t have done the stupid drugs; you should’ve just walked away but you didn’t.  Swinging your legs off his bed, you awkwardly stumble out of his room and head towards the bathroom. The door was slightly ajar, and you could see the steam on the glass door of the shower, and a blur from where he stood. You push open the door, and you know he hears it because he pauses, but continues to wash his hair. You sit down to pee, not embarrassed by the sound of it. Being best friends with Eddie Munson for ten years, you would lose count the number of times he’s stood in the same bathroom with you as you did your business. 

You step out of your underwear and unclasp your bra. You push the sliding door of the shower open and step in. The inside of the shower itself was spacious. You stare at his back, the dimples above his ass, and the curve of his hips. He doesn’t say a word to you when you step closer to him, you press your lips on the spot between his shoulder blades, his body slightly trembles at your touch, and you slink your arm around to his chest. His hand grips your forearm, holding it there. 

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper to him. The water cascades down you now, your hair soaking. He takes your hand and places his lips to your knuckles, turning around to face you. You look up at him, he cups your face. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“I’ll live.” You say, twirling his wet curl in your fingers. “You are the last person I wanted to hurt, and I did that more than once last night. I’m an idiot, who thought they could handle something they couldn’t. And I took that out on you, I’m sorry.” 

He smiles softly, his fingers running over your lips. “I take it I was right?” 

“As always.” You say with an eye roll and a smirk. 

“Are you okay?” He asks gently and chuckles. “That’s a dumb question.” 

“No, it’s not.” You smirk and shrug. “I guess, right now I am. But I probably won’t be in a few hours. It was a lot, seeing her that way…finding out what caused…” You pause. “Eddie, how can you stand here and ask me if I’m okay and be so goddamn sweet to me with the way I acted last night? With what I brought up?” 

He smiles at you, cupping your face with both his hands. “Because even though you’re the biggest pain in the ass I have ever met in my life, I still love you. Like a whole lot. You’re my best friend, above everything else, and you need to know that nothing you can say or do will make me leave you. I already told you; you’re stuck with me.” 

“But Eddie, what I said about the heroin…”

“Look in my eyes.” He tells you and you listen. “Promise me this, okay?” You nod. “Promise me you will never touch the stuff again, and if you feel the urge to, come to me instead. And I’ll do the same.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling a dull ache in your chest. What you brought up last night not only brought up memories he wished to forget but brought up the way it made him feel. As if you couldn’t hate yourself more. 

“I promise.” You tell him, opening your eyes. “I’m so sorry, Eddie.” 

“Stop.” He tells you gently, rubbing his nose along your jaw. “Just kiss me.” 

You do as you’re told, and your lips meet his in a sweet kiss. His hands caress your back, gently moving down to massage your ass. The water from the shower was steamy, and it felt good against your skin as you kissed him. You press your breasts into his chest to deepen the kiss, and he chuckles when you slip a little and fall into him. 

“Turn around.” He tells you softly, and you do so. You can hear him lather soap into his hands and groan quietly when he starts to massage your shoulders. You moan quietly, your muscles relaxing under his touch. He moves closer to you, and he lathers more of your back. His hands move to your tummy, gently rubbing circles around your belly button, moving his hands up to massage under your breasts. Your nipples harden and your head falls back into his shoulder as he gently massages your breasts, his fingers gently moving over your nipples. The sensation of his lips on your neck, the sound of the shower and the intimacy of him touching you causes a wetness to pool in between your legs. 

You can feel his cock pressing onto your ass and gasp when his hand travels over your mound and fingers your clit. His lips still lick and suck at the skin of your neck and your breathing picks up. He holds one of your breasts in his hands while the other plays with you gently. You reach behind you, taking his cock in your hands and start gently stroking him. His moan rumbles against your ear and he pinches your nipple. He rubs you faster, and you drape your other arm around his neck, moaning loud. His lips find your mouth, and he kisses you deeply and opens his mouth to massage your tongue with his. He pulls away from you, pushing you against the glass door with a thud and you smile in amazement at his forceful gesture. He goes down to his knees and he immediately sucks on your clit. You gasp, your back arches against the glass and he massage your ass, groaning as his buries his face into you, lapping you up. 

He pulls away with a moan and looks up at you with a smile. “Fuck, you taste so good.” 

He stands up again; kisses you hungrily and whips you around so you’re pressed up against the glass. The coolness from the glass makes your nipples harden once again and you bite your lip, feeling him move his fingers up and down on your opening. You feel him press up against you and the hardness of his cock as he brushes the tip of it against your ass and grinds into your folds.

“Oh…” You moan out and you feel him as he angles your ass up a little. His slides his cock into you and the bathroom echoes with both of your moans. He fucks you against the glass, each roll of his hips causing a sensation to flow from your belly all the way down to your toes. Your head leans back and you feel his hand cup around your throat, gently applying pressure and you cry out, pushing your ass against him as he slams into you, harder. 

He applies more pressure to your throat, and you welcomed this new pleasure with open arms. This was a sensation you’ve never felt before, he wasn’t hurting you, or trying to cut off your air supply, but it was new and the way he was manhandling you was making you seconds away from exploding all over his cock. His mouth finds your ear and gently grazes his teeth. 

“Ooh, someone likes it when I do this.” He coos in your ear, groaning with every thrust. Your cunt aches nicely at his words; still getting used to the fact that your best friend, who was now your boyfriend, your lover, who you were madly in love with, was fucking you like this. 

He thrusts into your harder and you cry out when he pulls away. He turns off the shower and you turn to look at him, catching your breath, your cheeks flushed, both of you soaking from head to toe. He kisses you deeply, pulling away to lick your neck, suck and bite at your nipples. 

“Get on my bed.” He tells you breathlessly. You still stare at him as you open the shower door, he helps you step out carefully and you still watch him with a smile, walking backwards towards his room. He shuts his door, spins you around and pushes you on your stomach, lifting your ass up to meet his hips. You grip his sheet as he slams his cock back inside you, the sounds that came from him were almost animalistic and so sexy, you moaned loudly with him. He holds your hips, and you arch your back, your hair was dripping onto his covers. 

Tugging gently at your hair, he lifts you up so your back is against his. His mouth meets yours and you kiss passionately, his hand is at your throat again, pressing down, your cunt clenching as you get close to release. His other hand goes in between your legs and finds your clit, rubbing circles as he continues his rhythm. 

“Fuck, baby.” He groans in your ear, his movements getting a little sloppy as you continue to clench around him. 

“I’m gonna cum, Eddie.” You cry out and he moans in approval, his cock hitting your insides faster and faster until you scream out his name and you cum, hard. The sudden tightness around his cock causes him to groan out, exploding inside of you and he lets out a loud, throaty moan. He breathes loudly, still groaning out as you feel another orgasm rip through you. The sounds from both of you were so pornographic you didn’t know how to form words. You collapse onto the bed, your face burying in his pillow as you gasp and catch your breath. You smile lovingly as you turn to your back and let out a soft laugh. He swallows hard, gently laying on your chest and brings your nipple into his mouth and sucks gently. Your back arches at the sensitivity and another moan escapes you. His wet hair was draped over your chest, and you curl your fingers in it. 

“That was…” you laugh. “That was different.” 

He lifts his face to look at you, gently grazing his fingers over your throat. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” 

“No, nope.” A laugh escapes you. “Never thought in a million years I’d be choked out by my best friend, and it feel good.” 

He blushes, hiding his face in your chest. You rub his back gently, and sigh. You both lay there quietly for a few moments. Realizing what today was, your stomach does a back flip, and you tighten his hold on him. 

“I’m scared.” You whisper. 

He gently rubs your belly. “I know.” 

“You’ll stay with me? The whole time?” 

He lifts his face up to meet your eyes, running his hand over your face. “I won’t leave your side. I promise.” He leans up, kissing your lips sweetly, gently and you sigh, holding him closer as you stare at the ceiling. 

Eddie had driven you back home to get ready, he promised he would be back as soon as he was dressed and meet you back at your house. You had hugged your father so tightly as soon as you walked in, taking him by surprise. You stood like that hugging him for minutes and he embraced you lovingly, you apologized for last night. You left out the part of you finding out that your mother had congestive heart failure, you didn’t feel right bringing up an ailment your mother had for years, unsure if he knew or not.

The funeral itself started at 4:00pm, but they wanted the family to come an hour and half early to take some time with her. Since your mother was being cremated afterwards, the burial would be private, and the plan was for your uncle to go to Boston to place some of her ashes in the soil of your grandparents’ grave. Your father had asked if you wanted to do the eulogy, you reluctantly agreed but had no idea what you wanted to say or could say. You stood in your room in front of your full-length mirror. You stood there in black tights that went all the way up your waist, and a black lacey bra. For someone who had an entire wardrobe full of dark clothes, especially black, you couldn’t decide on a top. 

You end up finding a fitted black dress with short sleeves, the neckline was a little low, but you placed your mother’s emerald necklace over your head to give it a pop of color and something to look at besides the hills of your breasts. Your doc martens were your mother’s favorite shoes on you, you would catch her wearing them from time to time, so you step into those. 

You had accentuated the waves in your hair with a little hairspray, placed a little mascara on your lashes and didn’t bother with lipstick. There’s a knock at your front door and you glance at the clock, it was 2:30pm, it must’ve been Eddie. Your father had let him in, and you could hear them patting each other on the back’s after giving each other a hug. You hear his footfalls come into room and you glance at him in the mirror leaning against your door frame. Your breath hitches at the sight of him. 

He was wearing a black dress shirt, the top three buttons undone, exposing some of his chest, tucked into his jeans. His silver chain necklace with his guitar pick was peeking out. He wore a black blazer which was a little fitted and you were wondering if he had borrowed it from Wayne. His black jeans were surprisingly not ripped, and he wore pointed toe boots. You couldn’t tell if you were staring at Eddie Van Halen or Eddie Munson. Either way, he looked so handsome. You smile at him in the mirror, and he smiles back, he walks towards you, wrapping his arms around your middle and you lean back into him. 

“You ready?” He whispers, kissing your hair. “You look beautiful.” 

“Are we supposed to look beautiful?” You chuckle softly and sigh. “Yeah, I’m ready.” 

You turn to him, and he holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger, his brown eyes kind as he stares into yours. “If you need a minute, you tell me. We will take a break, get some fresh air.” 

You nod, staring up at him, cupping his cheek. “What?” He asks you with a smile.

“You’re just…you’re something else, Eddie Munson.” 

He smiles. “You just bring out my good side, I’m a huge asshole. You know this.” 

You laugh, leaning up on your toes, kissing him softly. “Okay, let’s go.” You take his hand and the two of you walk out of his room, your stomach was in knots, your palms began to sweat, and you couldn’t swallow. This was it. This was the moment you dreaded for 5 days.

Your dad had driven with your Uncle Jimmy to the funeral home, you followed behind in your car with Eddie. When you pull into the parking lot, you notice the orange cones, and the directors standing by the doors. You both step out of the car and he takes his sunglasses off of his eyes.

“Lurch?” Eddie says out loud, looking at the tall man by the doors, you mutter a curse, covering his mouth with your hand, bringing his head to your shoulder and you cackle loudly. He looks up at you very confused and you pull your hand away.

“You have the loudest mouth, shut up. I’ll tell you later.” You whisper to him, holding in your laughter.  

“Yeah but…look at him!”

“Shut up, Eddie!” You laugh and you follow your father and uncle up the stone steps. Lurch nods at the two of you and you still suppress your laughter as you walk into the lobby. 

There’s a guest book to sign with prayer cards, the Irish Blessing was printed on the front with her name, birth and death date. Eddie takes them and puts them in his pocket, signing his name. You both follow your father and uncle’s tall forms into the viewing room, and you immediately stop breathing as you see the beautiful mahogany of her casket. There was a soft melody of piano music playing through the speakers. 

Your father walks towards her, and before you had a second to react, his legs are buckling. Eddie rushes to him with Jimmy on one side, cradling him so he doesn’t fall. Your hand goes to your mouth as you watch the scene unfold, you stood frozen, and the sound of your father’s cries sent daggers into your heart. You feel your feet move before the rest of your body and rush towards him, you rest your palm on his back and kneel in front of him. 

“I’ll go with you, Daddy. Hold on to me, okay?” He looks up at you, tears streaming down his face, and he nods. Eddie and Jimmy help him to his feet, and you link your arm in his. They stood behind, watching as you two walk slowly to her. More sobs escape your father as you stand in front of her, your eyes fill with tears and you turn your head away, resting it against father’s arm, squeezing your eyes shut. You could hear Jimmy sniffling behind you, you couldn’t look at him either.

“Oh, my girl.” He cries softly, kneeling on the prayer bench. As you finally open your eyes to look at your mother, you realize that you may have completely disassociated while doing her make up. She looked stunning, and you thought the whole time you were doing her make up, she looked dead, not asleep. But she really looked asleep. Your father meets your eyes and kisses the top of your hand. 

“She looks like her.” He says, smiling softly. “Thank you.” 

You nod, gently helping him up to move away from the casket. You sit your father down on one of the cushioned chairs and hand him a cup of water from the pitcher on the table. You sit next to him, holding his hand as you watch Jimmy kneels in front of your mother. His shoulders shook with sobs, and he gently smooths out her hair, he stands up from the bench, walking down the hallway to wipe his tears, pacing.

Eddie didn’t kneel, he stood there with his hands resting on his thighs. He stares at her, biting his bottom lip and you could see his eyes fill with tears. He goes to touch her hand but stops himself, a soft groan escapes him, and he shakes his head, turning away, pressing his palms to his eyes, walking away down the aisle of chairs. You feel your father nudge you to go to him and you stand up, walking towards him. His back is to you, his palms are still pressed against his eyes, and you place your hand on his lower back. He turns to you, so many tears fell from his eyes, and you pull him into you for a hug. He holds onto your waist tightly, quietly whimpering into your shoulder. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what that was.” He sounded so pained; your heart broke.

“You loved her, that’s what that was.” You tell him softly and he lifts his head from your shoulder. You wipe his tears away from his cheek and he sighs. “If you want to go back, I’ll go with you.” 

He shakes his head and smiles at you. “No, it’s alright. There are a few things I need to say to her.” He kisses your lips gently and you watch him walk back towards your mother. 

He kneels and rests his chin on his hands as he looks at her, more tears fell from his eyes, and he didn’t seem to care. He knelt there for a few moments, and you watch as he snaps his necklace from his neck, placing it gently on her hands, the guitar pick resting against her ring finger. Your bottom lip trembles at the intimate moment, and he gently kisses the top of your mother’s head, lingering there for a moment before pulling away. You feel yourself falling more in love with him at that exact moment.

He walks towards your father, embracing him in a bear hug. Your father squeezes his shoulder, the two of them having a silent conversation and Eddie wipes his eyes, walking back towards you. He slinks his arm around your waist and pulls you to him. You sigh, glancing at the clock. More people would be showing up. 

The funeral home was full of people you either hadn’t seen in so many years or had never met in your life. A lot of them had wonderful things to say to about your mother and some had even brough pictures which you hadn’t seen before. A lot of them had traveled from Boston. You almost broke down when Hopper walked in, he hugged you close to his chest and patted your head. 

“Don’t forget to take a breather, kid, okay?” He says gently and you nod. 

You had stepped outside for a moment, placing your hand on your knees to breathe in deep. It was so overwhelming in there and so stuffy. You felt like you were suffocating; you didn’t even tell Eddie you went outside, but he had found you anyway. Gently rubbing your back as you try to settle your nerves, he whispers that Steve and Robin were there. Robin was already crying when she hugged you, she had a glass dish in her hands. 

“I forgot to give this back to your mom when she made that casserole for me. I’m sorry, I kept wanting to give it back, but I never thought…I didn’t…” She was sputtering and you gently place your hand over hers.

“Keep it.” You smile at her, and she nods, Steve leads her inside and Eddie looks you over. 

“It’s almost over.” He tells you gently.

“I know.” You sigh. “I know.”

Your father peeks his head out the doorway. “Honey? It’s time for the eulogy.” 

You stop breathing, you had forgotten. 

Eddie sees you tense and keeps a watchful eye on you as you walk silently back into the funeral home. There was a small podium in front of her casket, and you look up at Eddie with pleading eyes, he walks with you to the front, keeping a short distance between you two as you stood there, looking at all the solemn faces of your mother’s loved ones.

“Um, thank you all for being here…” Your voice shakes. “I didn’t write anything or have anything prepared.” You inhale deeply, looking behind you at your mother’s form. You stare at her face; your bottom lip quivers and you inhale a shaky breath. You turn back towards them. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this…I’m sorry.” 

Eddie squeezes your hand as you go towards him, you see him stare at your mother and he holds your face in his hands, looking in your eyes, asking you a silent question. You nod and he pulls away from you. Everyone’s eyes fix on him, and you lean your shoulder against your father. 

Eddie lets out a breath and begins to speak. “Hi, some of you know me, some of you don’t. My name is Eddie, Eddie Munson. I have known this family for ten years, and I guess, I guess I have a lot to say about this special woman.” He looks over at you and smiles. “I never knew what it felt like to have a mother, I mean, if I did, I was really little, and those memories have completely faded. That all changed when I met this woman. Without questions, without judgement, she took me in as her own. It took me some time to get used to, I was used to being loved by the ones who cared about me, but when it was that motherly love, I had no idea how to deal with it. There were times I think I tried to push her away, especially when I got in trouble, but she forced her way through my walls and held on tight and I didn’t…” His voice shakes, tears pool in his eyes. “I didn’t let go. I didn’t want to. She was a force to be reckon with, right Hop?” 

“She terrified me.” Hopper says from his seat, and everyone laughs. 

Eddie chuckles, glancing over at you. “She protected her own like a lioness. Her beautiful daughter is living proof of the pure heart and soul of that woman. It would take hours for me to express how grateful I am for this family, for her as mother I always needed. I loved her, and it hurts that I can’t tell her that.” He looks behind him at her face, a tear falls freely from his eye. “But for now, I can tell you all what you already know. You will never find another one like her, a woman that embraces a freak like me into her arms, a woman that cooks a meal for an entire army. A woman who sends some of the toughest dudes running just by being in her line of sight. A woman who loved and loved hard. She wouldn’t want us sad, let’s be real she’s probably up there pointing and laughing at us, calling us babies.” That got another laugh out of them. “That’s what she wants us to do. Love. Love hard, tell your loved ones you love them. Follow her example and honor her everyday if you can.” 

Tears are streaming down everyone’s faces, especially you. You embrace Eddie in a tight embrace, your voice muffled in his chest, and you tell him your thanks over and over. 

Once everyone started to file out, you overhear your father talking to your uncle in the lobby. 

“I can’t do it; I physically cannot bring myself to do it. She was my baby sister, the thought of her…”

“It’s okay, Jim. It’s okay. We can figure something out.” Your father tells him gently. 

You walk closer to them. “What’s going on?”  

“We have a change of plans for her ashes. It’s not fair to put it all on Jimmy. We can brainstorm and figure out a better plan.” 

“Well, I can do it.” 

Your father looks at you. “Really? You’d go to Boston?”

“Yeah, you know how much I loved it there. It would be nice to go back. I have enough money saved to get a hotel room for a few days.” 

“Don’t worry about the money, I’ll take care of the hotel. I’d feel better if someone went with you.” 

Eddie walks into the room, his eyes still a little puffy and he gently grips your waist. 

“Wanna go to Boston?” You ask him. 

“Right now?” He asks you, cocking his eyebrows. 

“No, dumbass. In a few days. With my mom.” You stifle a laugh at his face which held pure confusion. “Her ashes?” 

“Oh! Oh yeah, yeah I’ll go. Road trip?” 

You nod and look up at your dad who smiles tightly, and you chuckle at his expression. “My daughter and Eddie Munson in a hotel room. Alone. Together. For a few days. Pretty sure God has it out for me.” 

He claps Eddie on the shoulder, heading back into the viewing room to say his final goodbyes to his wife. Jimmy hugs you tightly, thanking you for doing something he couldn’t and had left the funeral home, he had already said goodbye to your mother. 

You walk back into the room and your father gives you a minute alone. Eddie stands off to the side watching you. You kneel, gently smoothing out her hair, caressing her cheek gently.

“You know you were right about everything.” You tell her quietly, glancing over your shoulder at Eddie. “About me and Eddie. You always had that sixth sense about you.” You place your hands over hers and smile. 

“I’m gonna marry him one day. I’m gonna have his babies and we’ll have a cute little house with a dog. But you already knew that.” 

You wipe a tear away and lean forward, kissing her cheek softly. “I’ll see you in Boston, mama.” 

[vaguely-concerned]

Random Assortment of Ghibli’s Howl’s Moving Castle Thoughts

Because I rewatched it today for the first time in many years and it’s one of those miraculous works that not only remaine as magical as I remembered it through childhood eyes, but if anything was even more magical as an adult and in more complex ways. I’ve finally got words for at least some of the things I was processing only subconsciously as a kid, so here we go. 

- The sneaky underlying theme of deeply flawed mother figures in this movie. Drives me nuts. The narrative doesn’t go out of its way to condemn these characters, it takes a characteristically phlegmatic nonjudgemental view of them, but it feels like this is low-key a stealth Mommy Issues story. (Making it go 🤝 with Dragon Age 2 in my head lol) Sophie’s mother does not seem to be consciously malicious but is intensely smotheringly self-absorbed and immature to the point where it has clearly been neglectful, and on the other side of the ��Overly Permissive/Neglectful to Overly Authoritarian/Controlling’ scale of shitty parenting Suliman is controlling and invasive and heedless of boundaries. (Notice that her real complaint about Howl entering the contract with Calcifer and thus losing his heart seems to be that it means she can no longer control him and his grasp on magic, more than actual worry for him as a person. Her presence in his life is largely, ironically, paternalistic. She even frames it as something he blundered into incompetently — phrasing as him having had his heart stolen, rather than the mutual agreement we see Howl and Calcifer make even if they couldn’t know all the consequences it would have.) In the end Sophie breaks the circle by managing to be an engaged and responsive mother figure to Markl and making an actual home with the people closest to her. 

Interestingly Howl at his worst seems to be much more like Sophie’s mother than like Suliman — he leaves Markl to handle things he really shouldn’t have to alone all the time and is noted to barely be home anyway, in the beginning especially he’s flighty and vivacious and evasive (not to mention aggressively blond haha) in some of the same patterns we see her mom exhibit. Since Lettie is quite like their mother in terms of looks and sociability, we might infer that Sophie takes more after their father (including in choice of spouse lol). But crucially when the chips are down Howl is ready to protect Sophie and their home with his life rather than abandon her, in sharp contrast with her mother. I like that the movie doesn’t vilify Sophie’s mom for what she does, as such, it’s a pretty impossible position to be in for anyone… but it is just an extension of what she’s apparently been doing for a long time anyway, privileging other parts of her life and her own comfort over her daughter’s wellbeing and happiness. (Adds a certain spice and heartache to how scared Sophie is that Howl is going to leave them, too. And her fear that it would be because she’s fundamentally not good enough, beautiful enough, clever enough for anyone to choose her and stay with her. Ooof. Girl he’s been looking for you everywhere girl he thinks you’re the most beautiful thing in the world girl it’ll be okay)

- Relatedly: the unspeakably sinister vibes and implications of Suliman’s fucking… army of little Ersatz Howl page boys. When I was younger I sort of bought that he was just being a coward in refusing to go back, but honestly looking at all those kids with smiling empty eyes like painted marbles — you know what maybe it was good he got out of there when he did and in whatever way he could, huh. I don’t feel like there were wonderful things ahead here. Between that and the Witch of the Waste — who must have been much, much older than him when they seem to have sort of had a thing, since he seems to be like… mid-twenties-ish? at the time of the movie — there’s some really uncomfortable subtext going on if you want to read into it that way. I don’t think it’s the only way to read it by any means, but there’s something icky and clandestine sticking to Suliman’s whole deal that makes some form of grooming feel potentially relevant, especially taken along with the shame and fear that seems to cling to Howl around it and the recurring symbolism of him being stuck at a child state beneath it all — he slipped away from Suliman one day but never really grew up. (I’ll readily admit this is some fully Vibes based ramblings on my part, so YMMV on how convincingly you find this present in the text vs. how much is conjecture in my overthinking overheating noggin lmao)

- The fact that the first thing that allows Sophie to heal is to get to be angry — to finally get to say ‘this is all such absolute fucking bullshit *aggressively scrubs all the shit away about it*’. So much of her arc is about reclaiming the full spectrum of her emotions instead of having to make herself small, to prioritize her own inner experience and expressiveness above the need to be acceptable or pleasing to someone else's gaze. It’s not doing quite the same thing as the book in this regard (which if memory serves does more complex work around societal dynamics around gender and sexuality and aging vs. the more internal personal approach the film takes), but what it is doing is very interesting in its own right. The castle being a space (a home!!!) where all the inhabitants can eventually express themselves freely, including Howl dropping the uncannily imperturbable smiling facade to show the sad wet pathetic drama queen beneath (deeply affectionate) and Markl just getting to be a kid running around having fun. And Sophie makes that home for everyone possible by being herself unfiltered for the first time in her life. What the fuck I’m not crying don’t look at me — 

- The little one-room cottage in the fields being the forerunner to the castle… 

- Something so pleasing about the irony that Howl is said to eat hearts when really he seems to have basically had to tear his own heart out and set it on fire to keep it safe. And then after people have tried to get their hands on it to possess it (the Witch) or dictate how he uses it and who he gives it to (Suliman) for the whole movie, Sophie gives it back to him without a thought at the end; it’s more important to her for him to be whole than to own his heart. Hmnngh. (also so funny that the first thing he does upon waking up is plaintively whining about it fhdasj. Yeah having feelings again can take a person like that) 

- Howl’s bad dye job freakout is still very funny and silly, of course, never change you giant drama queen slime the place down, but there’s something about the fact that he’s apparently been dyeing his hair the colour Suliman seems to favor/uses to mark ‘her people’ all this time even when he hasn’t been able to face her, especially since the flashback shows black is his natural hair colour, and how badly it freaks him out to not meet that standard anymore… Huh. Hm.Hah.

(This time I actually wondered to myself if part of the reason he made the deal with Calcifer was to be able to get away from her and the plans she had for his life (and that he clearly would have hated, if their fundamental philosophical disagreement about warfare is any indication!). I think it says some very sad things that his happiest childhood memory is of a secret place where he got to be entirely alone because it was the only place he felt safe. Howl’s Moving Giant Coping Mechanism Metaphor. You see the castle is the Flight response made. Well not flesh. Timber, I guess. The Flight response made timber. In this essay I will etc.)   

- It hurts me that Howl brings Sophie’s old bedroom into the castle. He wanted so badly to make her happy and he seems to assume that because his memory of childhood solitude is a… if not happy then comforting thing to him, it would be for her too. But to her that’s just a reminder of the stagnancy and loneliness and… indignity? of her life before, and makes her feel like he’s treating her like a housekeeper, relegating her to that tiny room all over again, unwanted and ignored. Augh. At least she seems to understand what he meant to do for her when he shows her the meadow, though, and he doesn’t stop trying to communicate it to her even though his gesture didn’t land the way he’d hoped at first. This movie is so quietly kind about people trying to learn how to understand and love each other. Everyone is allowed to stay at the castle in all their imperfections, even the Witch. 

- Something something the Witch curses Sophie with not being able to tell anyone what’s happened to her… and in the end that doesn’t even really matter because the people around her either grow to understand without having to be told by actually paying attention to her (like Howl) or just accept her exactly as she is anyway, age yo-yoing and all, no questions asked (like Markl). And in the same way Sophie immediately recognizes Howl in his monster form and isn’t afraid of him even when he tells her it’s too late. Suliman warning her about ‘what he really is’ and Sophie immediately hugging him in his full monster form because he came home and that’s all that matters to her. Howl thinks her white hair is the most beautiful thing in the world and worth coming back to the world fully for. Sobbing. 

- The implication that part of the reason Calcifer wants out of the contract (other than just being stuck in the hearth of a place slowly falling into depressing disrepair and neglect around him) is that he’s genuinely terrified of what Howl is doing to himself. There’s something kind of sad and very funny about that. What if you went into a deal with a demon and the demon had to keep telling you ‘uh. Uh bro that’s kind of fucked up you know that right. Hey are you listening to me you’re molting monster feathers onto the carpet Sophie is gonna LOSE IT and don’t come crying to me when she does’. I wonder what would have happened to Howl’s heart if he turned completely — it seems that their contract has kept it safe and unchanged in every other way, if frozen in time, so presumably it would just… keep going the same way? (Calcifer telling Sophie that ‘it’s still the heart of a child’ got me so bad this time around. Bawling all over the place haha.) The idea of being stuck burning around a homeless heart forever is — well Calcifer I guess I get where you’re coming from here

- Of interest only to a very few people, I suppose, but the Norwegian dub of this movie fucking rules, I’m glad to find my childhood self was right about that. Calcifer is so cute in it it almost makes me dizzy sometimes, Aksel Hennie went ham on this one. Also an incredibly calming and charming performance for Howl — whenever I hear the English dub I just start laughing b/c like uh okay that’s Batman, takes me right out every time, that is not my lil guy fhsakjd. (I suspect his characterization is a bit different and softer in Norwegian too, just from the differences in translation I’ve seen?) 

- The first time Howl takes Sophie flying he holds her hand through it the entire time and guides her, the second time he takes her flying he lets her steer the flying machine for a while under his supervision before he goes off to make the distraction (there’s something so sweet about it as much as he’s being a little shit about it, honestly, he believes in her in such a quiet undramatic way even as she’s freaking out), and then after walking away from Howl’s childhood memory she walk-flies confidently on her own exactly like he showed her at the beginning. At the end the whole castle flies, with all of them safe and comfortable within it. Thoughts. Feels. Agony.

- There’s something so… weirdly achingly beautiful about the non-linearity of love in this movie. To properly meet each other as themselves here and now, Sophie and Howl have to flicker through polar opposite ends of life where they’re both stuck: old age and calcified (ahaha) childhood, resigned depression and overwhelmed fear. The promise Sophie makes at the end that is the beginning for Howl and probably kept him going in the meantime — love and a feeling of home that echoes even through the part of your life when it wasn’t there yet, love as hope. He finds her in the future, she finds him in the past, their hearts call to each other across time and space and they both work so hard to be able to actually meet in the now. The castle is kind of a wheezing overwrought monstrosity, the result of having to keep your heart outside of yourself and be constantly running from everything… but how can you begrudge it for it, when it works so doggedly to keep you and all you love safe while you look for that home? (To me Calcifer is basically a metaphor for dissociation, for what it’s worth, and he always has been)

TL;DR One of my fave movies of all times and touches me to the soul, I can't help but be distressingly earnest about it

[next-autopsy]

A/N: Well, hi there! WTH TWENTY CHAPTERS! I can’t believe it!

Just want to thank everyone who has liked, rebloged, commented or just reads! I love and appreciate each and everyone of y'all x

Based on the actors portrayal/hbo show and written with no disrespect to the real life veterans. Also all images found on Pinterest.

TW: i dont think there are any... maybe swearing?

Tags: @malarkgirlypop, @panzershrike-pretz

Made of Glass

Chapter twenty: Call Her Bluff

The entire event of the previous night played in her mind on a loop. She hadn’t slept much, instead choosing to lie awake in her bed reminiscing about the time spent stargazing with Joe. 

They had laid there on the scratchy blanket until after lights out, then the pair were forced to sneak back to Bernadette’s barracks without being caught. Plus Joe had to repeat the whole sneaking around schtick to get to his own barracks. 

Now that the idea of crushing on the Californian man had been brought to the forefront of her mind, it was all Birdie could think of.

At first she disagreed, Joe was mean to her: why would she like someone who calls her names? But then she remembered how fast her heart was beating when he told her she belonged. His comment had sat with her for weeks, echoing in her head constantly. Her own flesh and blood hadn’t believed in her and yet Joe did. Maybe a crush wasn’t that far fetched. 

“Well someone’s happy this morning!” Charlotte commented, watching Birdie as she skipped from one side of her cot to the other, tucking in the crisp white sheet as she went. 

“Yeah, considering you came back so late.” Lucy smirked, all the girls had an inkling as to why the Mississippi born lady was so chipper. They had bets on which guy had captured her attention, little did they know it was not the obvious choice: Joe Toye.

“Sorry, Mother. I’ll make sure to be home ‘fore curfew.” Bernadette played along, teasingly rolling her eyes towards the Fox company woman. 

“So…?” Blythe bounced on her bed, waiting to hear what tales the previous night held.

“So what?” She played dumb, continuing to flatten out her bedsheets and fluff her pillows. Even Connie, who didn’t typically approve of gossip had scooted closer, intrigued and curious. 

“Who’s the guy?” Charlotte burst, she couldn’t take much more of the coy bullshit, she just wanted to be privy to the latest discussion.

“Please tell us!” Blythe added, begging the southern woman to just rip the band aid off.  

“There’s no guy. Not like that by any means, fraternising is against the rules, ya know?” She wasn’t really sure how to explain a schoolgirl crush, especially one she wasn’t even sure was requited. 

“But if it wasn’t, you would’ve?” Lucy waggled her eyebrows at her suggestively. She understood the implication and of course her cheeks tinted pink, the thought got her bashful. Birdie had to reign in her thoughts before they ran wild. She didn’t know if Joe even thought of her like that, so there was no point in fantasizing about something that had no chance to come to fruition.

“…no…” Birdie mumbled the word, fidgeting with the hem of her ODs and biting her bottom lip to try to hide a smile. Despite her attempt at checking herself, the imagery of how soft Joe’s lips might feel on her own would not vacate her mind. 

“Never play poker, Bernadette Coldwell. You can’t bluff for shit.” Lucy laughed, shaking her head. 

—-----------------

Yet another failed practice manoeuvre led by Captain Sobel had Easy company in despair. The afternoon mood had plummeted meaning not much chit-chat at the lunch table. 

It was a Friday and Birdie still hadn’t worked up the courage to tell her friends about her upcoming birthday, it wasn’t really a good time, especially with this morning's loss.

Plus she and most of the company had their weekend passes taken away because Sobel was having a tough week. It was dejecting to say the least, so when several letters and a parcel arrived for her mid meal, she perked up. 

The package was from her family, as were most of the letters. Some came from highschool friends and neighbours, mentioning some video on TV that she had apparently appeared in, enticing young women to sign up and do their part for the country. 

“What is it? Your birthday?” George had joked, but as he thought about the statement he began to realise he had known Birdie for close to a year and was yet to celebrate her birthday. His face went serious, smile dropped, “Is it?” 

“Almost.” The southerner winked at her brown eyed friend while tucking away a letter she had finished reading. 

“What? Why didn’t you say anything? When is it? What day?” George spat out all at once, hardly leaving space to inhale. 

“Breathe Luz!” Birdie laughed.

“Not until you tell me when!” He puffed up his cheeks and scrunched his eyes closed, holding in his breath. His face coloured a light shade of pink that slowly got darker. 

“Don’t you dare say anything, Little Bird.” Guarnere grinned, holding a hand out to stop her girl from intervening. George held on for as long as he could but ended up bursting and spluttering within thirty seconds. 

“I almost died! You have to tell me now?” The radioman was leaning so far over the table he may as well have been on top of it. 

Liebgott had emptied his tray and was walking past Birdie’s table toward the dining hall door when he overheard George yelling at the girl and couldn’t help himself. 

“Tell you what?” He chimed in, curious to hear the girl speak. She smiled at him but before she could say anything, Luz butted in, “Birdie’s birthday is soon but she won't say when.”

“Well if you gave me a second…” She paused, giving her overactive buddy a look, “You’d know it's on Sunday.”

“What?! That's so soon! Give us some warning, lady! I don't even have a gift or-”

“Luz! Calm down.” Birdie couldn't help but giggle at his antics, “Your presence is gift enough.” It was cheesy but she meant it. She didn’t want gifts from anyone or special treatment. She missed home and her family and she knew any gifts she received would be tainted with the homesick feeling that grew in her chest day by day. 

“I’d get a refund if I were you.” Toye jested, he smirked at George, then flicked him a quick wink so the man knew he was kidding. 

“Hey!” George exclaimed, slightly offended by the comment. He began explaining to Toye and Guarnere how amazing he was and how truly blessed they were to know him. 

“Sunday, huh?” Lieb leaned closer to the almost birthday girl, lowering his voice so only the two could participate in this conversation.

“Hmm? Oh… yeah. Sunday.” She had been watching Luz go off on her two closest friends but her attention was pulled to him and now she couldn't tear it away. She noticed the deeper tone he used with her and how he wanted her undivided focus, Birdie had to force herself not to blush. 

“Ask me when my birthday is.” His voice was barely a whisper. Was he doing that on purpose? 

“When’s your birthday, Joe?” Birdie whispered back, looking up at him as he leaned on the table. She blinked her eyes waiting for his answer.

“Monday.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. They basically shared a birthday! A grin broke out on her face and she squealed, “No way! Really?!” This gained the awareness of the three men next to her.

“Uh… hey, what the hell is going on?” Toye said, astonished at the behaviour change between the two who typically only fought and called out names at each other.

“What?” Birdie tilted her head at him, pretending not to know why Toye had questioned them. She knew exactly why he was confused but she couldn’t say anything, lest she embarrass herself.

“You two are… talking?” Bill spoke, just as astounded as the man next to him. Bill and Toye were arguably Birdie’s closest friends and they had no idea her and Lieb were suddenly on good terms; it shook both men to their core. They thought Birdie hated that man but here they were chatting like old mates. 

“Yeah?” Lieb tilted his head too, feigning confusion. Toye noted the mimicked mannerism, he would surely be interrogating Birdie later. 

“Not yelling…” Bill was still in the dark, genuinely befuddled, “Or trying to kill each other?” 

George smiled and kept quiet for once, he knew exactly what was going on here, and he had good money on the pair hooking up before the end of the year. It looked like he would be winning said bet the way things were going.

“Didn’t you hate him last week?” Bill went on, trying to figure out what had transpired, “Yeah, the words you used were: Hate him with the fire of a thousand suns.”

“Poetic.” Liebgott nodded at the woman, his signature smirk plastered on his features. She was getting flustered and he loved it, watching her squirm. 

“Oh yeah, I remember that.” Penkala chimed in, overhearing the discussion from down the table, “Didn’t you ask Johnny to smother him in his sleep?” 

Liebgott’s eyebrows raised, he looked at the woman and awaited her answer. He knew it was all in good fun but he couldn’t give up the chance to tease her, in good nature this time.

“I decline to comment.” 

—-----------

Since Easy didn’t have weekend passes, that Sunday was spent doing extra PT Sobel had assigned them. He didn’t hold back, really tiring them out with laps of the field and multiple combat sessions. They even had a designated hour of digging foxholes with their entrenching tool. 

What a birthday.

The women didn't have to have escorts every second of every day anymore, the rules had eased up, but Birdie felt better when someone stood guard while she showered and Johnny wouldn't let her anywhere near the showers by herself. So after the day of taxing physical activity, Johnny found Birdie and walked her to the women's bathroom.

On the way out, Birdie slumped over, exhausted and ready to pass out. She was yet to have dinner but honestly she could do without for tonight, she just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep. Besides, the mess hall was closing in five minutes, so it looked like she’d run out of time anyway. 

Johnny walked next to her in perfect step as the two made their way to Bernadette's sleeping quarters. When they would typically go left, Johnny stepped right. It confused Birdie, she had to stop walking and take stock of where they were. Was she so tired that she forgot her way to her own barracks? 

“One quick stop first.” Johnny explained, detecting her hesitance. She didn’t argue, just groaned and nodded, following the man without question.

“Here.” Martin gestured to the three wooden steps leading up to a building identical to her own barracks. If her mind wasn’t foggy she would have recognised it but her brain was declining to function properly so she just hopped up the steps silently.

Birdie watched Johnny reach out for the door handle and hold it open for her like a gentleman. From inside Birdie heard ‘shushes’ and then nothing. How very suspicious. Had she been at full thinking capacity she might have understood the situation more clearly. 

“Surprise!” A chorus of baritone voices called out to her. Birdie jumped, unexpecting the loud announcement. 

The faces of just about every Easy company man stuffed into the small barracks building registered and Bernadette broke out into a grin. She looked back at Johnny who was amused, standing with his arms crossed and mouthed to him “For me?” He nodded at the young girl and she all but threw herself in his direction. He flung his arms out just in time to catch her in a bone crushing hug. 

“Thank you.” The southerner whispered to him while wrapped in his arms. Someone cleared their throat from behind her and she turned to face them.

“Um… where’s my hug? I planned this whole thing.” George stated, matter of factly.

“You did?” She spoke with a high pitched voice, wobbling with emotion. George nodded, “Thank you!” The woman embraced him with little hesitation, sniffling into his shoulder. She was tired and missing home and this act of kindness had broken her, joyful tears welled up in her eyes. 

“Hey, are you crying?” Luz tried to pull away from her to see if she was sobbing but she refused to let go of him, holding on more tightly.

“Shut up and hug me, Luz.” He chuckled and put his arms back around her, squeezing slightly. 

A few of the men had wished her a happy birthday and left for their own barracks, leaving her closer friends to host a little soiree. A deck of cards was dealt out and Toye was determined to show Birdie how to play poker. She decided not to tell him she had learnt the gambling game from her older brothers and allowed him to ‘teach’ her the rules. 

Birdie purposefully lost the first few games, then begged Toye to let her play on her own. He was reluctant and when she suggested putting money on the game he outright refused. But she puppy dog eyed him and used the excuse of it being her birthday and he caved.  

Bernadette played against Toye, Guarnere, Bull, Liebgott and Perconte while Chuck Grant was designated dealer. Stakes were getting high, they were betting smokes and Hershey's bars and the pool was an enormous mountain of tobacco and chocolate. Toye, Bill and Perco were confident Birdie had bad cards or didn’t understand them so they kept upping the bet, Bull was just along for the ride, calling cause he had nothing better to do. 

When it came to Lieb’s turn to place a bet, he looked at his cards secretly, then to the cards in the middle. He took a second to watch the faces of the men and the one woman playing along with him, he was good at reading body language and something about the look Birdie gave him told him he should sit this one out. He raised his brow at her, a silent question. She tilted her head ever so slightly, her muted answer. He folded. 

Cards were shown and Bernadette had swindled nearly sixty cigarettes and eight bars of chocolate out of her friends. She laughed as she pulled her winnings towards her, “Thank you boys! I won't have to buy smokes for a week!” She gloated, enjoying the looks on the men's faces. Toye showed devastation, had that really just happened?

“You minx! Why didn’t you tell me you could play poker?” Toye gaped at her, seriously what the hell had happened just now? She only laughed, eyes twinkling. She unwrapped a Hershey's before answering him, “First rule of poker: Play your opponent, not the game.” Birdie winked, biting into her hard earned bar of cocoa.

A/N: I think it's funny how the women have a bet on Birdie crushing on someone and its even funnier that Easy does too

~ next-autopsy ~

Chapter twenty and a half

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Yeah, Scobie's chapter on Diana is an interesting one. It's all over the place so you just want to tell him 'Get to the point, man!'

I should quote everything you said. So agree. OS, MM, and H are so desperate to have a corner of Diana's .... I don't know what to call it - her shine, all the things the other anon wrote about her - that is their entire focus where she is concerned. She was an icon then, she is an icon now, and they all three want that for themselves. Without even having a clue what it was made of. And none of the three have even a corner of what she was made of. Not even her negatives.

While I'm sure CC would love to see her memory banished, her son, the one who really knows her and who actually protects her memory, will never allow that to happen. I am sure that one of his early acts when he is King will be to return her HRH. He actually loves her for who she was. The stuff you said OS wrote about the Bashir interview - the whole point of the revelations was that Bashir & Co. worked hard to bolster the feelings of paranoia she genuinely developed. The whole interview was a product of that. That was William's point. But at the end of the day, it wouldn't have mattered what William said. The three would have twisted it. William is brilliant for never getting near anything those three do or say.

When she was young, MM was obsessed with Diana. She would give anything to be Diana and all that entails. H is still 12. And OS is fame and power hungry. They use Diana's memory to try to get what they want and end up just tarnishing it. I will be SO glad when they all disappear from center stage. So sick of the whole lot.

Frankly, it wouldn't surprise me if Meghan lobbied hard to get some of Diana's charities and patronages, but was told 'no' and that played a part in who she hates/why she hates the BRF. I really can't wait until there's more time removed from Megxit and Meghan's reign of terror to get the real stories.

Charles does seem to have become a bit more kinder to Diana's memory as the years have gone by, especially more recently. He does have experience losing a loved one tragically and unexpectedly (vis a vis Dickie Mountbatten and Hugh Lindsay) so he was able to support William and Harry somewhat at the time of her passing but I don't think he truly grasped how difficult it was for them to lose Diana until he lost his own parents. I think that gave him some perspective, but that could very well be my own wishful thinking.

Interesting that you mention Harry being still 12. I read a paper once that theorized celebrities are emotionally stunted at the age they were when they became famous, and boy does that ring true for Harry. I'm sure he knew he was popular growing up because of all the cameras around him, but he probably became aware of just how famous he was at age 12 with Diana's passing and he got the double whammy of fame + tragedy. Fortunately William got him therapy so Harry was at least able to mature to mid-twenties, but then he met Meghan and he regressed back to 12 years old in some gross Oedipus fairy tale.

There's no excuse for Meghan and Scobie. Like the another anon pointed out, they just leeched onto the same host to resuscitate their dying careers.

[obsidiancreates]

The Fabric Of The Universe Is A Little Coarse (1 Out Of 5 Stars) Part 1

(Content warning for a psychic-induced seizure-like state and sensory overload-like experience).

“Alright, Mr. Spencer.” The chief gestures at the girl sitting in the interrogation room. She’s young, maybe mid-twenties, with short curly hair like a black-and-white movies actress gathered around her cheeks like ginger clouds. “You have ten minutes.”

“All I need, Chief, and I’ll have time for a game of Eye Spy before I leave.”

“It’s I-Spy, Shawn.”

“That’s what I said.”

“No, you said Eye Spy.”

“What difference are you hearing exactly, Gus?”

“A clear one!”

“I can’t do this with you right now. Chief, I’ll be back in less time than Lassie spends on his hair in the morning.”

“Hey!”

“You’re right Lassie, that isn’t fair, you’ve stepped up your game a lot in the last few years. Keep at it buddy. Someday, you’ll be on par with me. Or more likely just slightly below, because, well.” He chuckles and gestures at his own hair with a flippant gesture, and ducks out to the door of the interrogation room before Lassie fully processes the tangent. 

He shakes himself loose and steps into the room, looking through the one-way glass and grinning straight at Lassie. He can’t see-see his friends on the other side, exactly, but he knows where they are and how they're moving. He really doesn’t get why every interrogation room has these ‘one-way windows’– or how there are people who can’t ‘see’ through them. Just another obvious thing that he’s the only one who picks up on, somehow.

He whirls around and smiles at the girl, who looks confused to say the least. “Hello. My name is Shawn Spencer, head psychic of the SBPD–”

The confusion turns into horror so quickly it leaves Shawn actually, physically reeling back. The girl puts her hands over her head and screams, pushing her chair away! “NO! NO NO NO! I WON’T TALK TO A PSYCHIC, NO!”

“Whoa, whoa, I’m not–!” Not what? Not psychic? He can’t finish his sentence with that. Not a ‘bad’ psychic? This girl obviously had some bad experiences in the past, he gets the feeling she won’t accept that claim, especially not from him. Not going to read her psychically? Then there’s no reason for The Chief to keep him on the case!

He doesn’t have to worry about that last part much longer, because Lassie storms in and grabs him by the bicep, dragging him out of the room and into the observation area again.

“Well, that was a waste of time,” Lassie says. “Great job keeping the witness calm and cooperative, Spencer.”

“Really, Lassie? I didn’t even do anything but introduce myself! Clearly, she had encountered psychics with much less strong morality than I possess.” He ignores the looks Gus gives him at ‘strong morality’. “I can hardly be blamed for the poor behavior of my psychic brethren.”

“We can blame you for not ‘sensing’ that beforehand.”

“Lassie. You realize if you do that, you’re also saying you believe me?”

Lassie snaps his mouth shut, and then scowls. He points a finger in Shawn’s face, but no rebuttal comes out of his mouth. Instead he turns, barking for his partner to come down and join him on the interrogation.

“Well, it looks like your services are no longer–”

“Wait, wait, Chief. Listen, even if I can’t be in there to ask the questions, I can still read her from out here. Let me stay to watch, at least.”

“Well… fine. But given her strong, aversion to you, you are not to give any sign you are still here, understand? That means no… shouting questions at Lassiter and O’Hara, or barging in when they’re finally making progress, and no–”

“Interrupting?”

She levels him with an unamused glare. Shawn holds up his hands in surrender, but can’t help the slight chuckle that escapes him. The Chief just shakes her head, a slight smile tugging at the corner of her lips, and turns to leave. She passes Lassie and Jules on her way out, and Shawn and Gus settle into place to watch the interrogation.

“What do you think happened to her to make her react to you like that?” Gus whispers as Jules and Lassie sit down and introduce themselves.

“I dunno. Maybe scammed her?”

“Seems like a strong reaction for scamming.”

“Yeah… maybe Lassie and Jules will clear it up.”

Sure enough, after the main bit of questioning is over (the girl is nervous and fidgety the whole time, but Shawn clocks that her necklace is one of those chewable toys usually used for anxiety or autism, and the hem of her shirt is wrecked from constant tugging and picking over a long period of time– she’s not lying about anything, she’s just legitimately stressed out) Jules leans in.

“So, before you leave, can I ask something a little more… personal?”

“Um, I-I guess.”

“My partner told me that when you met Shawn, you–”

“Panicked.” She looks around again. “He um– he said he’s psychic.”

“He says that, yes.” Lassie’s entire being screams about how he doesn’t believe it, and Jules ignores him.

“He’s been working with our department for a few years now, and he’s helped us solve a lot of cases. It’s pretty likely he’ll work on this one, too.”

The girl tugs at the hem of her shirt. “Years? 

“Yes. And I can assure you, personally, that’s he’s actually a very good person. … Annoying, more often than not, and a little egotistical–”

Lassie laugh-scoffs.

“Okay, more than a little egotistical–”

“Does she know we’re still listening?” Shawn whispers to Gus.

“– but a good person.”

The girl chews her lip for a second. “Sorry, I’m not… saying I don’t believe you. It’s just… well, I’ve had a lot of experience with psychics, Detective. I worked as a researcher in the field of metaphysical studies for a time–”

“That’s a field? Who the hell is deciding where funding goes these days?” Lassie seems more perplexed than anything else.

“It is a field, Detective, and a viable one. Yes, most of the psychics we saw were fake, but some were real. And they were…”

“... Were?”

“... It’s not… their fault.” She seems to be choosing her words carefully now. “All of them shared traits of manipulative tendencies, compulsive lying, depersonalization.”

Shawn scoffs. “Now she’s making up words.”

“Depersonalization is a real thing, Shawn.”

“What?”

“It means viewing a person as not really a person, including yourself. Like, treating them like a game.”

“Oh. … All the time?”

“I dunno. … What? I only read one article!”

Lassie looks a little too delighted at the table. “Really? What about, oh, I don’t know… a need to always one-up someone?”

“Sort of, yes. Psychics are… you’re going to think I sound crazy.”

“Oh, if you had spoken with Spencer, you’d know we’ve had to develop a high tolerance for crazy talk.”

“... Well, they’re sort of… the universe’s favorites. We tracked patterns of incredible luck, not just from having visions, but generally impossibly lucky situations all around. By the time I left the program because of my experiences, the theory was that because they were so much more closely connected to the primordial and essential makeup of the universe itself, it made sure to keep them, for the most part, safe and successful. That’s not to say they never had hardships, just that… things would always work out in the end.”

“Yeah, but that’s just life.” Shawn shrugs. 

“Not for most people, Shawn. You just have some of the weirdest luck in the world.”

“Gus, I’ve been shot and punched and pistol-whipped, some of those more than once. I don’t think that’s lucky.”

“You haven’t gotten killed yet though.”

“What do you mean yet?”

The girl goes on. “And because life sort of bends around them, they… play. With people, usually. Not maliciously, but… they don’t experience things the same way we do. Does your psychic seem to align with that?”

“Absolutely.” Jules sighs. “Shawn never follows the rules, but everything always goes his way in the end. It’s impressive, and usually very helpful to us, but…”

“Irritating.”

“I was going to say difficult to work with at times. … But my partner isn’t wrong.”

“Seriously, do they know we’re here?” Shawn reaches up to knock on the glass, but Gus grabs his hand before he can directly disobey The Chief like he usually does.

The girl nods. “Like I said, it’s not entirely their fault, but it means you should be… cautious. He’s the only psychic you’ve ever known, right?”

“He is.”

“You can’t really believe whatever he presents himself as to you. Think of the universe like a… a woven rug. Not knitted or woven with little threads, but like… one made of long, inconsistent scraps of old clothes, or blankets, things like that. It’s messy, and unsymmetrical, and it seems chaotic, but it’s actually carefully crafted.”

Shawn tilts his head. “That… sounds familiar.”

“It does?” Gus frowns. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard this analogy in my life.”

“And what, you’ve heard all of them?”

“Most of them. I took a philosophy class for half a semester in college.”

“Man, you took that class because of all the hot nerdy girls and barely paid attention.”

“How did you–”

“Uh, I know you, and have since forever? Just, trust me, man, I’ve… I’ve heard this before. Somewhere.” 

Jules is nodding as the girl talks. “But what does this have to do with why you’re afraid of Shawn?”

“Well, all of us, everything we know, this physical world, isn’t actually in the weave. Imagine us like… appliqués. We’re all existing on top of the base of the universe, apart of it but not truly one with it. Life happens around us, and we can influence it in ways, but most of what we experience is already woven tight.”

Shawn isn’t sure when he started leaning in to listen– he only notices he’s moved when Gus has to put a hand out and keep him from falling into the glass. 

“Shawn, are you okay?”

Shawn blinks. The room is tilting a little, and he feels…

He flexes his hands. Something is under them. He can feel a faint scrape against his fingernails, but they’re itching at nothing but air. “I uh… yeah, buddy. I just… swear I’ve heard this before…”

The girl has spread out an old sheet of paper on the table, and put her chew toy on top. “We’re all here, on this top layer. But psychics aren’t. They’re born with a deeper connection to the universe at large. To put it simply, while we’re all applied on top, psychics are–”

“– woven directly in.”

Shawn sits in his grandma’s lap as she makes a little rug out of his old baby clothes. He’s two years old at the most, probably younger, chewing on his thumb and trying to grab the scraps of fabric away from his grandma’s hands. He’s never remembered anything far back before.

“Someday you’ll be able to feel it,” she says. “I wish I could tell you when, but it’s hard to see. Everything else is a layer, easy to observe and pick apart, but you and I are side-by-side. I can’t follow your… well, this isn’t exactly thread, is it? Cord, how about?”

“And because they’re woven directly in, they can manipulate the cords around them.” Shawn hears the girl, but almost distantly– he’s also facing the floor now, and Gus’s arm is bracing his chest, and Gus is saying his name but Shawn isn’t sure he can answer because he’s not sure he’s here right now.

He flexes his hands again, feeling his nails scrape against thick bundles of fabric tightly bound together, hearing the faint sound of dull bumping even though he’s not touching anything but air.

“When they have a vision, or an intuition, it’s–”

“– the universe sending a signal. It’s like it’s… asking us for help, to change something. It wants to change something, but it can’t just unravel itself. It needs us to help it change shape and–”

“– shift outcomes. They can follow cords in all directions, moving throughout the weave itself, which manifest as their psychic abilities. They can follow it back to what was, forwards to what will be, and side to side to what is. Even when they aren’t aware of this connection–”

“– you’ll still feel it. I know your father has… specific plans for you, so you probably won’t be able to distinguish one gift from another. You’ll be drawn to certain details, know by instinct what will be important later even if there’s no reason it should seem important now. You’ll know things you shouldn’t be able to know, and won’t even realize you shouldn’t.”

Shawn’s breaths are coming in gasps. He feels it pressing in, the tight cords and bundles, feel them wrapped around his hands and running through his skull–

“For things like mind reading, knowing about people on a personal level, think of the underside of an appliqué. It’s not the polished, presentable side, it’s the mess that shows what goes into the whole image. The underside is where you’ll find the messy threads, the jumbled colors, the weird patterns that go into the clear picture of the finished product. Psychics can–”

“– look at what fundamentally makes up a person, the nitty-gritty details, not just the whole picture. We can see what other people can’t. Even the person we’re reading might not know everything that goes into their makeup, and we can see them better than they see themselves.”

Shawn isn’t facing the floor anymore. He’s facing the ceiling, and Gus, who’s shaking him. Is he shaking him? Shawn is shaking. He’s shaking and he’s bound up tightly in cords and scraps and threads and it’s not concrete under his hands but a rug and his fingers can’t stop scraping it over and over and over, bump bump bump bump–

“Shawn!”

He wants to say something but his mouth won’t work. There’s a cord running through it, and another, and another, through his whole body, he can feel each one and he can see them and as he runs his hands over more it’s so much.

Bump. He tastes chicken parmesan and asparagus and knows it’s the last taste someone will ever experience. Bump. He smells old-lady perfume and smoke and it’s arson, the perfume is the accelerant, he chokes on the smoke and the heavy floral fragrance. Bump. He sees a red car speeding down the road and someone is on the phone, they’re not paying attention until they hear the roaring engine and by then it’s too late–

“It’s easy to get lost in. Sometimes we’re pulled apart, when we get too encompassed by the weave, and our physical bodies can’t really handle it. That’s why it’s going to be very important that you find people who care about you, Shawn. It’ll be tempting to toy with everything and let it work itself out, but you can’t rely on that all the time. The universe is on your side, but it doesn’t always know what’s good for you. You need to make a good life, good choices, good relationships, or else you won’t–”

“– snap out of it!” Shawn’s not here. Gus is screaming from somewhere else. He’s caught in the tight cords but he’s shaking too, and he can’t stop, and he’s somewhere else and his eyes aren’t focusing and he can’t feel anything but he can feel everything, the cords running through his body thrumming with the whole wide world and more and he’s more and it’s too small a space for so much–

“Guster, what the hell are you–! Holy–”

“Oh my god, Shawn! Gus, what–”

“I don’t know! He just collapsed and started seizing!”

“MCNAB! CALL AN AMBULANCE!”

“Has this ever happened before?!”

“No!”

“Shawn, Shawn try to focus on me–”

Jules’s hands touch his face and he feels the already tight cords snap into a specific pattern, and the ones in his mouth finally loosen up and he’s still not here but he is and he’s everywhere all at once and her whole life travels along the top of one cord and it’s running right through his skull–

“Stay with us Shawn, don’t go, oh my god don’t go we need more time, there’s so much we still have to work out–”

It’s not Jules saying it aloud. Her eyes go wide as Shawn recites every frantic thought running through her head, the words pouring into him and spilling right back out.

Her hands pull away and his head can’t steady itself and a new hand catches his face and–

“Don’t you dare leave me Shawn! I need you, I need you, I can’t imagine my life without you in it, don’t you dare leave me alone out here it’s supposed to be us against everything not just me–”

Gus’s hand pulls away with a whispered “Oh my god,” and a sound like crying but they’re too close for Shawn to see their faces, everything’s close and far and here and there and Now and Then and Happened and Happening and it’s So. Much.

“Oh my go– Carlton, get the first aid kit! He’s bleeding!”

“What?!”

“He’s bleeding, Carlton! From–from his his nose and his ears, I don’t–”

“MCNAB! WHERE THE HELL IS THE AMBULANCE?!”

“It’s easy to get lost in. Sometimes we’re pulled apart. It’s easy to get lost in, sometimes we’re pulled apart. It’s easy to get lost in sometimes we’re pulled apart It’s Easy To Get Lost In Sometimes We’re Pulled Apart.”

Shawn sees Lassie’s face join Jules and Gus above him, all three twisted with panic and fear and care.

And then.

He Unravels.

[forays-into-fiction]

It Was a Friday Night

You’ve never really had much experience with guys, despite being in your mid-twenties and at college. But then you meet Eddie at a party and things change... it’s your turn to get swept away by a handsome, charming guy.

Minors DNI

Request fill for Anon, sorry it’s taken so long. I hope you enjoy 😊 No smut in this one, but if anyone would like I can do a smutty part two.

Contains: Eddie/Inexperienced!Reader, Mainly Fluff with Hints of Angst, Mentions of Previous Bullying, Feelings of Inadequacy, Slight Dark Humour, Mentions of Drugs and Alcohol, First Date, Petnames/Nicknames (Sweetheart, Pretty Girl, Pretty Boy)

Your best friend, Debbie, had dragged you to this party, she said you needed to meet new people, really assimilate into the college environment. It wasn’t exactly what you had planned for your Friday night. You had wanted to make a start on that first essay your professor had assigned. 

Sure, there was plenty of time, but you knew if you didn’t start now, you’d end up leaving it to the very last minute. A habit that you were trying to break especially now. You’d managed to get away with procrastinating in high school in large part thanks to your good memory, but that wasn’t really cutting it anymore. 

Debbie never meant to ditch you at these parties, but more often than not she did, usually swept away by some guy. You didn’t hold it against her, she was entitled to her fun and you weren’t her responsibility to watch over like a babysitter.

 You just wished you could have the same experience, no one had ever shown you any interest… ever. Never asked on a date. Never asked to dance. Never been kissed. 

Hell, you’d never even held hands romantically. You thought it was pathetic honestly, to be in your mid twenties never having any of these seemingly pivotal moments in your life. 

Whenever you expressed this doubt to her, Debbie just waved it off with a, ‘It’ll happen when it happens, you’ll see. Trust me.’. She’d never understand, how could she… but at least she tried. 

You’re stood by the refreshments table, refilling your glass, you turn and spot your friend, she gives you a wave and a smile. You return it and she goes back to her conversation. You stare down into your cup, swirling the liquid around before taking a swig. 

The music changes, something slower, some sappy love song someone had requested. You can’t help but roll your eyes with a huff, you leave the house stepping out into the cool night air, it whips around you. 

You take another swig of your drink, smooth over the back of your skirt and take a seat on the steps. Sulking in your bitterness, you didn’t want to feel this way, you wanted to be like every other girl, be swept away by some handsome, charming guy…You let out a sigh, gazing up at the night sky. 

The only time guys ever approached you it was just some joke to them, to everyone. Unbidden memories from high school come pouring in… that time a guy was dared to ask you out, while you were in earshot, directly in front of them in class, the other guy at the same time daring the first to ask the girl next to you to marry him… all a dumb joke. 

The time at a school dance where one of the teachers had the bright idea to line up all the girls and all the boys on opposite sides of the room and tell the boys they had to ask a girl to dance… you’d been the only girl left without a partner. 

You had also overheard your teacher telling her boyfriend, who’d also been chaperoning, to ask you to dance… that was humiliating, you’d refused immediately, they didn’t know you’d heard them. 

Then all the little random interactions through your days at school, like sitting reading a book outside on Valentine’s Day, the rest of your friend group was busy being all lovey-dovey with someone or other. 

A group of guys came over, sat themselves down at your bench, one wrapped an arm around you uncomfortably, pretending to read over your shoulder, the others all borderline shouting things at you… anything to make you embarrassed. 

The one that stood out was when one of them got up, walked over to the gardens and picked out a bit of the shrubbery, throwing it at you yelling ‘Will you be my Valentine’s Day?’. Dumb. It wasn’t even the correct phrasing. 

The bit of leaves and twig had hit you in the face, landing in your book, you swept it away and continued reading… just ignore them… boys will be boys… that’s all anyone else had to offer. 

You did ignore them, face heating uncomfortably, until they decided to pick up and leave. You could see all the guys’ other friends laughing along, it didn’t escape your notice that there were a lot of girls amongst them laughing at you too. It made you wary of anyone that did ask you out, how could you be sure it wasn’t just some joke, some stupid jab at you. 

Yeah maybe some guys in high school had been genuinely interested, like one of your friends, who upon telling him he’d been the first to wish you a happy birthday, responded with, ‘You know what that means?’. 

You had seized up, panicked, what answer had he expected? You had replied awkwardly with, ‘Uhhhh… that you’re a friend… a good friend?’. Had he been interested? You’d never know now. 

Your train of thought is interrupted by someone settling down beside you lighting up a cigarette. 

You glance over out of the corner of your eye, to see him, one of the prettiest guys you’d ever seen. You turn your head a little, taking in the rings that adorn his fingers that hold the cigarette to his lips. He holds out the cigarette, offering it to you, you shake your head, “No thanks, I’m good.”

“So, why’s a girl as pretty as you sitting out here all alone?”

“Fuck off.” You snap at him. 

“What? What did I say? What did I do?” He holds up his hands in surrender, cigarette dangling between his lips. 

“Well, first of all as if you’d care, and second of all I don’t need some asshole sitting here making jokes about me.”

“I’m not making jokes about you. If I were making a joke, it’d be to get a laugh from you, pretty girl not at you.” 

You scoff, but he persists, “Trust me sweetheart, I’m the last guy to be making jokes at someone’s expense…” he considers for a moment, blowing out a cloud of smoke and ashing his cigarette, “… well, unless the person in question was a colossal ass and deserved it.”

“Alright pretty boy, you’ve had your fun just go back to the party.” You mock his little nickname for you, ironic considering how pretty he actually is.

“Oh, no I’m done for the night.”

“Really, thought all you college guys could ‘go all night’?”

He bursts out laughing at this, smirking he teases, “Oh, sweetheart I’m no ‘college guy’ but I can definitely ‘go all night’, if that’s what you want.”

You swat at him, “Yeah and you’re really not making fun of me, huh?”

“Sorry, sorry that wasn’t a dig at you, I promise. More at those fucking pretentious assholes… think they’re fuckin’ better than me ‘cause they go to some fancy school mummy and daddy paid to get them into.”

“Hey, watch it. I’m one of those ‘pretentious assholes’ that attend this school… but you’re not?”

“Not you sweetheart, never you… just those fucking dicks in there trying to impress their girls or whatever. To answer your question, no I don’t go here.”

“So… why’re you here then?”

He gives you a cheesy grin, “To meet you, pretty girl.”

“Oh, fuck off.” There’s no venom in your voice this time and you give him a playful shove. 

He gives a dramatic wince, rubbing at his shoulder. 

“Really, if you hate it so much why are you here?” You reiterate. 

He snubs out his cigarette on the step before flicking it away, “Promise you won’t judge me?”

You hum in mock consideration, “Hmmm… not unless you’re like here to murder all the dumb frat bros… actually maybe even then, yeah even then you’re fine.”

“Oh, pretty girl has jokes… and they’re dark. No, unfortunately I’m not here to ‘murder all the frat bros’… could be arranged though, Eddie and…” he trails off expectantly.

“Y/n. My name is y/n.” You supply.

“Y/n, pretty name for a pretty girl.”

“Alright, cool it with the pretty girl shit.” You huff.

He concedes, “Fine. Fine… Eddie and y/n going on a murder spree together. Nice to meet you, by the way.”

“You still haven’t told me why you’re here you know, don’t think you’re worming your way out of that one.”

“Well, uhhh… it’s a party right… and uhh at parties people usually like to… get high, smoke a little weed, maybe some harder stuff. That’s where I come in.”

“So, you’re like a dealer?”

“Not like, I am a dealer… is that… is that a problem for you?” His brow crinkles as his expression changes, anticipating a bad reaction.

You shrug, “Nah, it’s not really my thing… drugs, but I’m not gonna judge you for it. You’ve actually been pretty nice so far, sorry about blowing up at you a bit. Just kinda feeling shitty and bitter.”

“Oh, why’s that?” He asks earnestly. 

“My friend kinda ditched me to hang out with some guy and I dunno… it’s dumb, I was feeling left out and it got me thinking back to high school and how shitty guys can be.”

“Well, you’re not wrong there, us guys can be very shitty. Your friend ditched you though, can’t be a very good friend.”

“She is a good friend, but she deserves to have a good night too. I’m sure she wouldn’t have a problem with it if I stuck to her side all night, but that wouldn’t be fair.”

He shrugs, “If you say so. So, you’re not having a good time, I’m all wrapped up with sales… you wanna head somewhere with me?”

You put on a serious voice in jest, “Oh, no we don’t let strange men take us to secondary locations, bad things happen in secondary locations.” You break and let out a giggle, “What, did you have in mind pretty boy?”

“Hey, if I can’t call you pretty girl, you can’t call me ‘pretty boy’, fair’s fair.”

“Alright, fine… what did you have in mind, Eddie?”

“There’s this twenty-four-hour diner not far from here, wanna go grab a bite?”

“Yeah, that sounds nice. Let me just go tell my friend I’m heading out, don’t want her to worry about me… and if you try to turn on your murder spree buddy someone will be looking for me.”

“Oh, haha very funny. Go on, tell your friend, I’ll wait here for you.”

You rise from the step brushing off the back of your skirt, “Be back in a minute… pretty boy.”

He gasps in mock outrage, “Hey, what did I say about that? I’ma start calling you pretty girl again if you keep that up.”

You poke your tongue out at him before turning back to the house. 

You find Debbie on the dance floor with that same guy, she spots you, grinning at you as you make your way over.

“Hey, how’s it going? You meet some people?” She yells to be heard over the music.

You lean in closer as you answer, “Actually, I did. His name is Eddie, he’s from off campus. We’re going to grab a bite to eat, I probably won’t need a lift back.”

“Ooooh, look at you! Go have fun… call me when you get home.”

“Will do. You have fun too.” You grin back at her.

You head back outside to see Eddie leaning against the wall, spinning his rings around on his fingers. He looks up as you approach, “Ready to go?”

You nod, “Yep, all good. I’m assuming you have a car here, right? If not, we could always walk, if it’s the diner I’m thinking of, it’s not that far a walk.”

“It’s a van actually, but if you wanna walk we can.

“Nah, let’s take your van. Lead the way.”

He holds out his arm for you to take, you slot yourself in against him and sets off.

It’s easy, it’s too easy with him, there’s still a little niggling thought in the back of your head… what if this is a joke, some big elaborate prank? You push it away, it keeps coming back up, but he’s doing a lot to dissuade your doubts with every passing moment.

You shiver slightly in the cool breeze and notices immediately, “You cold? Want my jacket?”

You shake your head, “No it’s ok. We’re almost at your van, right? Should be fine when we get inside.”

“We are almost there, but here just take it.” He shrugs off his leather jacket and drapes it over your shoulders.

You pull it tight around you, the smell of him lingers on the leather, it sends a heat rushing to your cheeks, “Thank you.”

He brushes off your thanks and gestures before him, “Here she is… my van. Sorry, I know it’s not exactly the um nicest thing to be riding around in-”

You tug on his arm, cutting him off and he turns his head to face you, “Eddie, I don’t care what you drive. That is so far outside of the realm of importance you’ve got no idea.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I promise you I’m not some shallow, college rich-bitch. It. Does. Not. Matter.”

“Cool. Cool, didn’t think you were by the way. Just… I dunno it’s not exactly impressive or anything.” He leads you over to the passenger side opening the door for you.

You turn back to him, “You wanna impress me, pretty boy?”

“Yes, I do, pretty girl.” He holds out his hand to help you in.

You take his hand while groaning and protesting, “Hey, you’re the pretty one here.”

“Me? Nah, you’ve got that all wrong. Don’t forget to buckle up, she’s kinda a bumpy ride.”

You push your arms into the sleeves of his jacket and put on your seatbelt as he closes the door and makes his way to the driver’s side.

He gets in and reaches to the footwell in front of you with a smirk, before pulling out a box of cassettes, “So, uhhh… my music isn’t exactly to everyone’s taste, but if you want you can pick something out for the drive.”

You riffle through the cassettes before getting to one that has a handwritten song list. On the other side there’s a sketch depicting a coffin surrounded by a swarm of bats, and a scratchy looking title above it spelling out Corroded Coffin in angular letters.

“Corroded Coffin? What’s that?”

“Ah forgot that was in there. It’s um… it’s actually my band.”

“No way! Get out, you’re in a band? See, that’s impressive, out here going on about your van when you could be upselling the fact that you’re in a band.”

“It’s… it’s nothing major. We’ve only ever really played dive-bars-”

You cut him off again, “All I’m hearing is that you’ve played gigs. Eddie, take it you are cool, Mr. Rockstar over here.”

His face reddens at your words and he continues to try to downplay it, “Dunno if I’d say ‘rockstar’, we only really get a crowd of about five sloppy drunks with nothing better to do.”

“So, do you play an instrument… do you sing? C’mon, I gotta know.”

He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, “Bit of both, I play guitar.”

“Hot. Can we listen to this?” You look at him with pleading eyes.

“Su-sure… I guess. If you really want.”

You grin back at him, “I do.”

He turns over the engine and moves to swap out the cassette for the one in your hand, “Don’t… uh don’t set your expectations too high and um if you don’t like it just-”

You reach for his hand, frozen about to insert the tape and give it a little push, “Eddie, I’ll be nice about your music even if it’s the most horrendous shit I’ve ever heard… which I doubt it will be. If your music taste is anything to go by, I think I’ll like it.”

His eyes snap up to you as the first song begins, “You like metal?”

“Yeah, a little. I had this friend once who introduced me to some of it, but then he moved away and I dunno I guess I was a little intimidated to go out and buy my own stuff. I wouldn’t call myself a metalhead by any stretch, but yeah, I like it.”

He puts the van into gear and sets off, “Well, now you got me to show you the ropes, sweetheart. So, um… what… what do you think of me- it, so far?”

“That’s you on guitar right there?”

He nods, you exclaim, “You’re fucking amazing! Honestly, so talented.”

He fights the grin that’s breaking out over his face, grip tightening on the wheel, “Stop… flattery fucking works with me so if you’re angling for-”

“I’m not ‘angling’ for anything, I’m serious you’re good. When are you guys playing next? Maybe I could come see you.”

“We’ve um got a standing gig in this bar in Hawkins… do you know Hawkins?”

“I’ve heard a little about it, that’s the one that’s always on the news, right? People always calling it a cursed town or whatever.”

He lets out a sigh, “Yep, that’s the one.”

“What’s that, like an hour’s drive?”

“Yeah, there abouts. That’s not too far for you, is it?”

“To see you… not at all.”

“Awww, you really gotta go and make me feel all special like that? Gonna travel all that way, just to see little ‘ol me?”

“Yes, your singing’s good too by the way.”

He preens at your praise, “Geez sweetheart you’re gonna give me an ego if you keep going on like that.”

He pulls into a space in the parking lot of the diner and announces, “Anyway, here we are. Just wait right there, I’ll come around.”

You nod and unbuckle your belt as he does the same, hopping out and rushing around to your side.

He helps you out and escorts you through to the diner. As you enter a bell tinkles drawing the attention of a waitress, pouring out a cup of coffee for who looks to be another student, head buried in some notes. She calls out to you, “Just take a seat, be with you in a sec.”

The two of you take a seat opposite each other in a booth by a window, you break the silence first, “So, you never actually said when your next gig was.”

“Oh, I didn’t? Shit sorry, yeah we play Tuesday nights at this bar called The Hideout. You really wanna come see us play?”

You give him a gentle smile, “Yes I really do.”

The waitress joins you at this point, menus in hand, “Can I get you started with something to drink?”

The two of you put in your orders and peruse the menu briefly, you glance over the top of yours only to lock eyes with him as he places his down on the table.

“So…” He begins.

“So?” You reply in kind.

He lets out a nervous laugh, “Umm, do you think I could get you phone number? You know to keep in touch. Keep you updated on the gig and stuff.”

“Of course you can, Eddie. You got a pen or something?”

He groans, “Shit. No.”

“That’s ok.” You get the attention of your waitress.

She pulls out a pen and pad, “You ready to order?”

“I am.” You answer, turning to Eddie, “You?”

“Uh yeah I’ll have…”

The waitress notes down both of your orders and replies, “I’ll have that out in two shakes.”

As she goes to leave, you stop her, “Sorry, just one more thing. Could I borrow a pen for a second?”

She gives you a odd look but hands over a pen. You grab Eddie’s hand, jotting down your number over his palm. “There.”

You hand the pen back with a thanks and she continues on her way.

“Cool.” He mumbles staring down at his hand.

He clears his throat and snaps out of his transfixion, “I feel like I’ve spent all night talking about myself, tell me something about yourself. What are you studying?”

“Science, biomedical science to be more precise.”

“Oh, shit so you’re like really smart.”

“Uh I dunno… I think I kinda just know how to make myself sound smarter than I actually am, maybe it’s more that I have a good memory. Plenty of random useless facts up here.” You tap the side of your head.

“Stop, no. Biomedical science that shit sounds fucking hard ok, you’re easily way smarter than me. And if you’re going to hype up my music, I get to hype you up as well.”

“I… umm, ok.” You mumble in response looking away bashfully.

“Say it.” He insists.

Your head pops up, looking back at him in confusion, “What?”

“Say ‘I am smart and pretty and cool’.”

“Really? Those words exactly?”

“Yes. I wanna hear you say it.”

You give a little huff, rolling your eyes, “I am… smart…”

“Keep going.” He presses.

“… and pretty?”

“‘Atta girl, last one.”

His tone sends a shiver down your spine, “… and cool?”

“There you go, sweetheart.”

“Why did I have to do that?” You ask in a slightly strained voice.

“Because you should know exactly how amazing you are. You’ve been flattering me all night, let me do the same.”

“But you hardly know me. You don’t know if I’m all those things.”

He reaches across the table taking your hand, “Sweetheart, I don’t need to know you to see how awesome you are.”

You scoff, “Alright.”

“Look, you may not believe it now, but one day I’ll make you see it too.”

“Oh, really you planning to stick around that long?” You tease.

He nods, “If you’ll let me.”

“Uh, yeah sure. It’s been nice hanging out with you…” You trail off as you spot the waitress making her way over with your orders, “…oh, look here comes our food.”

He looks over his shoulder in the same direction as your line of sight.

As your food is placed in front of each of you, he says, “It’s been great hanging out with you, thanks for not like… immediately turning your nose up at me. There was definitely plenty of times you could’ve-”

“Fuck off, no there wasn’t and anyone that would is a dick. C’mon dig in, don’t want your food to get cold.”

He grins at you, “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

The two of you sit there chatting away long after you’ve finished your meals, until Eddie catches sight of the clock on the wall, “Shit, it’s fucking late. I should… I should get you back. You live on campus or…?”

You nod, “Yep I live in the dorms.”

“Okie dokie, well I’ll settle the bill and we can get going.”

“You sure? I mean I can pay for my half.”

“You will not. I’ve got it. Made a killing tonight anyway. I always overcharge the douchebag college guys and they take it without question.”

You giggle at that, “Yeah, well they probably just want an excuse to flash some cash.”

“Yeah, that and half of them have never actually bought the stuff before, just trying to show off in some way or another.”

He gets the bill squared away and escorts you back to his van.

He starts up the engine and turns to you, “Right, so where am I headed?”

You direct him back to your dorm, he pulls up out front and puts the van in park to hop out and help you out again.

He walks you to the front door arm in arm, both of you hesitate unsure of what to do next. He rubs his hand over the back of his neck shifting from foot to foot, “Uh… is it alright if I kiss you? I know we just met and all but-”

“Yes.” You blurt out.

“Yes?”

“Yes. I umm… I should say I don’t really have any experience with this kinda stuff.”

“That’s ok. That’s perfectly fine, honestly. Just uh let me take the lead.”

He moves in closer hand raising to brush aside a stray hair before cupping your cheek gently. He leans in slowly, pressing his lips to yours, both pairs of eyes fluttering closed. You match his movements and just like everything else with him it comes so easily. 

You feel his tongue tracing over your bottom lip and you let out a little moan. He slides his tongue in alongside your own, stealing your breath away. You place a hand against his chest and pull back breathlessly. Your eyes meet his as they open, a little dazed, “Wow um that was…”

He grins lazily, his hand dropped from your face, “Yeah it was.” He lets out a sigh, “Well, I guess this is goodnight, huh?”

“You got somewhere to spend the night?” You blurt out.

He smirks, “Why, you offering?”

You gasp, “No, I just meant… you can’t be driving back home at this hour. What if… what if something happens to you?”

“Oh sweetheart, I’ll be fine. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about me.”

“So, you have somewhere to stay?” You persist.

“Well, no I was planning on just driving back, but worst-case scenario I can always sleep in the back of the van.”

“No, you will not.” Your voice comes out affronted. “Go, park your van and come back I’ll wait here.”

“I was just joking about spending the night you know. You don’t have to.”

“I am insisting. Now go.” You tell him firmly.

“Yes ma’am”

He finds a spot not too far away and hurries back. He meets you by the door, awkwardly murmuring out a thanks and adding, “I don’t… I don’t expect anything from this alright? I don’t want you to think-”

“Eddie, I am the one who offered… no insisted you spend the night here. We have a blowup mattress you can use and I don’t think my roommate will be in tonight.”

You lead him inside and up the stairs to your room, you’re lucky enough that no one spots you along the way. You open the door flipping on the lights, taking a look around the room, you see it’s empty. You step in beckoning him along with you, “C’mon, no one’s here.”

You close the door behind him and shrug off his jacket holding it out to him, “Here, I should give this back.”

He shakes his head, “Nah, hold on to it. Wear it to our show on Tuesday… if you come.”

You sling it over your desk chair instead, “Will do. I’ll just set you up with the mattress and some blankets.”

Eddie helps set everything up and while you stand back to survey the results, he clears his throat, “Umm I’ll just turn around and you can change.”

“Cool, thanks. Uhh what are you gonna wear to bed?” You eye him up and down, “That won’t be comfortable.”

He shrugs, “If it’s alright with you, I can just sleep in my boxers.”

“You sure you don’t wanna borrow something?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. You just settle in, pretend I’m not even here.”

“Ok umm…” You give your finger a little twirl, motioning for him to turn around.

He falters a moment, before jumping and spinning around, “Shit, sorry… not looking.”

He covers his eyes for extra measure drawing out a giggle from you. You slip out of your clothes from the night and into a pair of pyjamas. You crawl into your bed and mumble, “Alright, I’m in bed now you can do whatever you need to.”

He turns and strips, leaving his clothes wherever they land, you avert your gaze feeling a heat creep into your cheeks when you catch sight of the smattering of hair peeking over the top of his jeans. You don’t see the smirk that graces his features when you do.

He slides into his own bed for the night, “Goodnight, y/n. Sweet dreams, pretty girl.”

You laugh, “You too pretty boy.”

[garden-of-omegas]

⚜ FIRST MEETING [ARCANA - ROMANCEABLES] ⚜

┌── ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ••✎•• ──────────

characters: asra | nadia | julian | muriel | portia | lucio summary: the details of your first meeting with your future mate. warnings: none? i think. rating: sfw a/n: starting with the basics this time! don't worry about the missing writings, they're not completely gone and will be back sooner or later. i just realized i needed to revise a lot of stuff and i'd rather do that now rather than way later when they're half-lost under everything else.

~🎕

└── ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ••✎•• ──────────

≿━━━━༺❀ asra ❀༻━━━━≾

✿ you were a wandering magician, looking for a place to settle down with your familiar, an european badger named ursula. you'd recently arrived at vesuvia, where you were planning to stay for only a few days.

✿ asra was eighteen at the time, and had yet to start his travelling lifestyle. you, on the other hand, claimed to be around the same age though you never mentioned your exact age. however, you were apparently already tired of your travels.

✿ you met asra during a masquerade, the first time you'd ever come to vesuvia. he had set up a little fortune telling booth near the market, and you were wandering around taking in the sights. you happened upon his booth during your wandering, and showed him a few tips to fortune telling after having your own fortune read. asra immediately asked you to teach him more. [☘]

✿ you agreed to teach him a few tricks if he showed you around vesuvia, as you had yet to figure your way fully around. his enthusiasm made you fall in love with vesuvia (and him) and eventually you went on to buy the shop he'd set his booth at.

✿ asra admired you instantly upon meeting you, you were so knowledgeable and wise about magic and the world. spending some time with you let him even see a glimpse behind the gruff look on your face, and he thinks some part of him fell in love with you then. you found asra to be cute, his eternally curious disposition quickly breaking through your usually tough facade. it didn't take long for you to decide that spending more time with the cute omega wouldn't be too bad.

≿━━━━༺❀ nadia ❀༻━━━━≾

✿ you were a magician looking for something shown to you in a vision you'd had. you'd been on the road with your familiar, a jackdaw named camma, for several years at that point. vesuvia was originally just a stopping point for you on your journey.

✿ nadia was twenty at the time, recently engaged to lucio (sort of, anyways...). you were apparently around the same age, though with apparent wisdow beyond your years.

✿ you happened upon nadia in the town square of vesuvia, both of you rather new to the city-nation. she was just leaving her carriage when you'd stopped by to ask her about her clothes and carriage, ever curious about anything new. nadia gladly answered you, drawing you both into a conversation about her home country.

✿ nadia had to eventually leave for her duties, but she invited you over for discussions several times afterwards while you were still in the city. you eventually decided to stay, feeling like vesuvia was where you were meant to be and went on to open your own shop.

✿ nadia thought of you as an interesting person, your curiosity apparent and rather cute. she especially admired your intelligence and talents, making your constant talking far more tolerable than most other people she has to listen to. to you nadia was the most curious thing in the entirety of vesuvia, something about her drawing you to her instantly. you weren't sure if it was her scent, so exotic, or something more magical. regardless, you couldn't wait to get to know more about her.

≿━━━━༺❀ julian ❀༻━━━━≾

✿ you were a magic shop owner in vesuvia, having already settled down some time ago, though you still dreamed about your past of travelling. at least your familiar, an irish wolfhound named calum, was content with it all.

✿ you were both in your mid-twenties, supposedly. it was shortly after the plague started, after you were forced to close your shop and were looking for someway else to help the community.

✿ you ended up at julian's clinic's doorstep unexpectedly, looking to make use of your medicinal magic skills with the help of a real doctor. or, as close to one as you could get. julian opened the door expecting a patient, and instead got a stern looking magician asking to become his assistant. a few flustered stammers later he let you inside.

✿ julian gladly took you in as an apprentice after seeing your work, even with his apprehension towards magic. the two of you got close rather quickly, given how much time you were spending together prior to julian's call to the palace.

✿ after the initial surprise of seeing you on his doorstep, julian couldn't help but think of how pretty you were. a perfect alpha, though he'd never admit that that's what he thought. that, and he couldn't help but admire your talents with medicine. you mostly thought of julian as cute. stammery, dramatic, and extremely cute. a bit odd with his mannerisms, but his dedication to his craft is what really caught your attention. who wouldn't admire such passion for helping people?

≿━━━━༺❀ muriel ❀༻━━━━≾

✿ you were running a shop in vesuvia, working as a magician and trying to keep your rather new life intact. your familiar, a fallow deer named aldwyn, was especially taking your new city life badly.

✿ you were young adults at the time. your meeting was only shortly after you'd settled in vesuvia and asra started staying with you. not that asra was home at the time.

✿ you were out in the forest looking for herbs with aldwyn, who was leading you to all the best spots. he lead you to a small hut, with all kinds of helpful herbs growing around the area. then you got a faceful of wolf and had to be saved by a large omega smelling like all those herbs.

✿ muriel of course did his best to herd you away from his hut, but being the stubborn idiot that you are you kept returning back. it was the best place for herbs you'd found, and the cute omega was a delightful bonus of course.

✿ muriel mostly thought of you as weird. oh so weird. you were stubborn, oddly cheerful, and despite his gruff personality kept calling him cute. he was sure that inanna had knocked something lose in your head. at least your deer companion was cute. you were enamored with muriel immediately, almost sensing his gentle giant heart. and his grumpy pouts were far too cute to pass up on. so you decided immediately that you'd make it your life mission to bother him at his little hut as much as possible.

≿━━━━༺❀ portia ❀༻━━━━≾

✿ you were a travelling magician at the time, having only recently started your journey with your newly minted familiar, a ferret named leda. though really, you were just an apprenticing magician at the time. [☘]

✿ you were both so young, portia only a little over a decade and you in your early teens. julian had just left nevivon, and portia was still waiting for the day to go after him.

✿ you'd just arrived in nevivon, having heard about their salts and being interested in their possible magical properties. you were looking for someone to show you around when a bushy-haired little girl stepped onto your bath and offered to show you around. you of course took her offer, she was too cute to resist.

✿ portia showed you all around town, and eventually lead you to a place where you could purchase their famed salts. after a few tests, you got them to spark with magic, and it was over for you. portia spent the rest of your visit following you around in hopes of more magic.

✿ you were the most incredible thing portia had ever seen. your grand stories and magic tricks, oh she could just spend all her time listening to them! she was so sad to see you go when you had to leave to continue your journey. you thought portia was just the cutest thing ever, with her wild hair, boundless excitement and little button-nose. and so eager to see more of your magic! you'd never had someone so excited about something that felt so natural to you. you loved that feeling.

≿━━━━༺❀ lucio ❀༻━━━━≾

✿ when you truly first met lucio, you were incomprehensible and unknowning, but that's a memory lucio couldn't have and you lost. so, at the time of your actual first meeting you were a magician masquerading as a doctor.

✿ it was the start of the plague in vesuvia, you were in your mid-twenties and you had just started working at the palace to find a cure for the plague, one of the first to be called upon.

✿ you stepped into the count's bedroom, a few magical books with you and your familiar, a sphynx cat named primavera, hanging off your back. lucio spots you from his pet and calls you a servant, ordering you to bring him some water. he gets a surprise when you start laughing, and conjure a pitcher of magic for him.

✿ you spent most of lucio's early illness with him, taking care of him and trying to find ways to stop the plague from advancing. up until your eventual death you spent most of your waking-time by his side, looking after him and entertaining him.

✿ lucio was at first certain you were a hallucination made up by his illness, no way someone could be so perfect and beautiful. the moment your pissed off face broke into a melodious laughter he fell in love just a little bit. your soul knew he was it, this was it, but you yourself thought of him as a spoiled little brat. but primavera liked him immensely, so you decided that he was fine, and it didn't take that long for you to worm your way under his facade.

[self-insert-nightshade]

Guess who made a HSR self insert design purely for a self insert commission? Me.

Commission with Dr. Ratio done by @lemondytart theyre wonderful and amazingly patient while i got my shit together. Details on my self insert under the cut.

Name: Alexis Sagitta

Age: Mid twenties

Description: A short young girl easily lost in crowds and overlooked. If she stands out it's only due to her youthful appearance despite sleepless nights. She keeps her arms free in case she needs them for battle or record keeping. Her skirt and coat hide many things among them being her phone, a small notebook or two, a tablet, and a tape recorder.

Where: Herta Space Station (but gets sent everywhere) - One of Herta's and Asta's personal attendants - often gets thrown into the Simulated Universe to test out bugs after updates

Job: A glorified intern, technically a scientist and researcher, used as Herta's eyes and ears in the form of an innocent, naive and defenseless girl. May or may not be bugged. Runs errands, makes observations, writes reports, and occasionally does research into Aeons.

Hobbies: listening to music when in transport, doodling on the margins of her notes, eating good food wherever she goes, reading whatever is nearby

Path of Erudition and Imaginary damage dealer - weapon: baton hair pin

Interests: Aha, Dr. Ratio, the Simulated Universe, Akivili

Aeons: Current Aeon she's researching is Aha due to her curiosity regarding their path and variations as well as her love of background characters. Unfortunately this has garnered Aha's interest who, similar to Herta, enjoys puppe- nudging her in certain directions/storylines. It helps that her job is so flexible and acts as a record keeper of events. Her interest in Akivili was sparked due to the Astra Express's docking at Herta Station.

Past: Grew up with her father working for the Business Consolidation Department and her mother as a teacher. Has two brothers whose locations are unknown. One is believed to be working for the IPC and one is believed to make commissions via web work. Has not spoken to her family much after getting swept up into the Herta Space Station. Heard of Dr. Ratio as she was working on her studies in Interstellar Psychology and Cultures and Universal History. She has 2 degrees and 5 minors (All in the arts to keep her sane through her studies (Music, Literature, Astronomy, Culinary, Art)). May or may not have been inspired by Dr. Ratio. Considers herself a bright girl when not distracted by the beauty of the world (people, art, music, food). How did she get to be on the Herta Space Station? She applied to be a Research Assistant, Human Resources Assistant, Administrative Assistant, and a Clerk. During her interview she was asked if she wanted to be all of those to which she replied "I don't believe that's feasible but so long as I get paid well and the benefits are good I can certainly try." She was hired with the simple title of Assistant. Initially she reported directly to Asta but then Herta started to send her more requests.

Relationships:

Herta: Her boss. Her Big Boss. Boss with a capital B. Alexis is pretty sure Herta was the one guiding some of the questions on the interview due to their odd nature. Alexis respects Herta and will comply with requests with reluctance and hesitance but will still fulfill her duties. Has a favorite Herta puppet to interact with and that is the one in her "office" with the simulated universe as she feels that one is more closely connected to the actual Herta. Would love to study one of the Herta puppets but feels like that would be considered creepy and also does not want to get on her boss' bad side.

Asta: Her boss whom she loves and would do nearly anything for. Greatly respects her especially for how she uses her personal funds for the ship. Ensures to check in on her at least once a week and tries to invite her to meals to ensure she's eating. Sees her as a role model and like a sister. Wants to ease her burden and strives to be an efficient and good assistant for her. When Alexis first started on the space station, Asta was very kind to her. Asta is who Alexis goes to whenever she has any questions as Herta isn't likely to answer her well and Asta is patient enough to work with her.

Arlan: He reminds her of her brothers and like Asta she always checks in on him to make sure he's eating and not too stressed. While Alexis does not do much in the ways of security, she can help when it comes to its logistics or the staff. Arlan and Alexis share a similar respect, admiration, and love towards Asta whom they both look up to. Alexis always checks in with Arlan whenever she leaves and returns to the ship even if it's just as simple as a text message of "I'm home. Wanna eat?"

Dr. Ratio: Stalker? Her? No way. She just does the occasional search to see what he's up to, if anything new has happened, stare at his picture it's not creepy she swears it's just healthy admiration with a small dose of fear. Alexis is very aware that as bright as she is she is still quite dense and a tad idealistic. She is content observing and admiring Dr. Ratio for the fear that any interaction would actually crush her spirit due to how high of a pedestal she has put him on. If he even met her eyes she would probably turn to ash on the spot. What she wouldn't do to have that chalk knock her out though...

The Astral Express: Alexis has only worked with the Astral Express very minimally. She is however familiar with the Trailblazer (Stelle/Caelus) due to them both being guinea pigs for the Simulated Universe. She admires their strength and loves their quirks and thinks it's amazing how far they can go in the Simulated Universe. While she doesn't talk to them often, she looks forward to interacting with them and their friends. March 7th and her get along like a house on fire much to Dan Heng's stress and relief. Alexis respects and admires Welt and Himeko with a small crush on Welt due to his patience and intelligence (she definitely asks him questions every now and then). No, she does not know how old Welt is. Himeko is an intelligent beauty whom Alexis isn't sure whether she wants to be or be with. Dan Heng is a tough nut to crack as he sees her mostly as a March 7th number 2 and is a little surprised that she even has a job (and a somewhat interesting one at that) at the Herta Space Station. Alexis is polite to Dan Heng and tries not to be too much but finds it hard when encouraged by March's actions. She does step in if March needs to be redirected though which he is somewhat grateful for.

[dragons-bones]

Hiya, I love your writing! 🎉

I was wondering if you've come up voice claims/references and/or an idea of what your WoLs sound like. Speech pattern, tone, stuff like that

Ahhhh thank you so much, Anon! 🥰

Voice claims not so much--I am oddly very much not an aural individual when it comes to imagining scenes and interactions, but highly visual instead. (AKA I'm one of those people who can see a "movie" playing when I read or write, complete with scenery and character blocking.) That said, I do try to keep some things in mind when I'm writing the Squad:

Synnove

Husky voice, contralto singer when she ever bothers to sings

Generally formal, precise diction and enunciation (a result of both her upbringing and arcanist assessor training)

In periods of high stress or other emotion, slips into an accent that is described by many Eorzeans as a "horrifying mix of Lominsan pirate and Gyr Abanian hick." (I do not like writing out accents as I find them distracting, but the important thing to know is she no longer sounds 'proper'.)

Veers towards the informal with her sisters and also when letting out her inner pyromaniac.

Rereha

Somewhat high-pitched speaking voice, soprano singing voice. Very obviously well-trained

Very informal diction, accent would probably be best described as "generic American" out of universe. Essentially speaks like a mid-2010s Tumblr user; in-universe, this is waved off as her being rich and therefore eccentric with weird tics. (At least she wears pants, unlike the Mandervilles.)

Innuendo galore. Swearing galore. "Fuck" is a noun, a verb, an adverb, and punctuation.

Going formal and uber-polite is a generally a sign that either the situation is serious enough that Rere is actively trying to behave herself, or she's secretly insulting someone. Either way, it's a red flag for her sisters and the Scions.

The rest of the Squad tends to pick up on her verbal tics when they've been around one another again for long enough.

Dancing Heron

Voice isn't as deep as someone would expect of a 7'4" Hellsguard; soft-spoken

Polite, crisp tones, generally quite patient and unhurried; very much Thanalani middle class

In combat (or dealing with Rere shenanigans), gets short, pointed, very no-nonsense. Her job is to be the vanguard and protector and by gods you will fucking listen to her instructions.

Generally is going to be the voice of reason, but doesn't always need to speak. Her expressions can convey a lot. (See Heron's "I'm Not Mad, Just Disappointed" look, which has shamed about 95% of people into good behavior.)

Alakhai

Very strong preference for just not talking period. When she does, her voice is soft but rather harsh-sounding. Imagine a quiet crow.

Defaults to a lot of non-verbal communication (especially with the Squad's hand-sign language, which relies heavily on facial expressions and signs that make reference to twenty years of in-jokes). If she's speaking out loud, it's for the sake of non-Squad, or to make a point.

Or to troll. This woman has the straightest face in Eorzea but she loves to troll, even more than Rere.

Why speak when she can stab? No? Goddamnit.

[more-than-a-princess]

❤️ How does the love in your heart affect how you RP? Any other notable emotions?

Mun Communication meme

I gotta say, reading this question made me laugh a bit as, initially, I interpreted it as "are you in a relationship or otherwise have a lot of love in your life and how does that transfer to RP, or are you single?" And I guess that just feels like a bigger deal than it is to me.

Personally, I haven't written this muse in a time I wasn't in love: when I started this blog, I was in a long-term relationship and over the past five years of writing this blog, I've gotten engaged, married, and moved into a new home with my now-husband (and our cat, Molly, who is the real boss around here!).

With that in mind, I think the way I view relationships, romantic, platonic, familial, or otherwise changes with time and perspective. In general, I'm writing a muse who is between the ages of 17 to 25 most of the time, though the longer I write various storylines the more Sonia ages along with them. I'm in my late thirties (my birthday is this month and I'm at an age where I start dreading them!) and I think what has helped me regarding the love in my personal life is being able to look back on what being in love was like at a younger age and the various conflicts and emotions that went along with them. Many of the things I considered important about relationships back then aren't even relevant to me now, but I can write similar feelings for my muse because she's at that age. Granted, she has a lot more pressure regarding marriage on her shoulders than I ever did and was forced to grow up very fast, but it's different writing a character who is in their late teens through mid-twenties looking back on that age than it is to write a character while living through that time in your life offscreen.

And a few other more specific love/romance/ship-related things that affect how I RP:

It's been quite awhile, but I distinctly remember how my approach to writing sexual intimacy changed as I both grew older and, ahem, got some real life experience. Being a virgin at 18-20 years old writing a sex scene versus being in my thirties and married writing a sex scene are two very different situations with very different purposes. Nowadays, if I'm going to write a physically intimate scene in RP I generally want it to have more meaning beyond the muses having sex (which is also why I don't post or send in sinday content! If the storyline I'm building with a writing partner is heading that way, we'll write it, but not simply due to a meme or tumblr trend).

I identify as a cisgender heterosexual woman, but my muse identifies (though she isn't always aware of it depending on the verse!) as a cisgender woman who isn't heterosexual. When writing Sonia, especially in romantic relationships with a character who doesn't identify as a cisgender heterosexual man, I try to read/watch/listen to plenty of experiences in the LGBTQ community. Whether that's news coverage, documentaries, fiction, online communities, and/or my friends' experiences when they are comfortable and interested in opening up about them, I approach it with an open mind and an understanding that this isn't my space, but I want to learn to in order to both support those who are a part of that community as well as try to write my character with authenticity and compassion. The last thing I want is to lean into uncomfortable or inappropriate tropes, fetishization, or other derogatory takes.

The hardest thing here, for me at least, is knowing that Sonia doesn't come from a family, much less a country, that supports her specifically in an LGBTQ relationship. The difficulty is writing that opposition as a challenge that Sonia must face and ultimately overcome if she's to have a recognized relationship and eventual union without making my writing partners feel uncomfortable by the hate and prejudice my character, and at times theirs as well if they're writing a ship with me, experiences.

Communication helps: I trust my writing partners to tell me when that line is crossed and I need to pull it back a bit, and I don't hesitate to do so.

tl;dr - I've written Sonia in romantic ships with men and women, and the smut unfolds organically.

[we-pay-for-everything]

Nancy Drew season 3, episode 10 review:

I don't really love this episode. All the romance scenes felt unnatural. I hate it when a character randomly, and confidently, states another character, especially one they barely know, is in love before they even admit it themselves. Like, why would Hannah say Ace is in love with Nancy? Is it really that obvious? To me it's not. And she barely has any scenes with Ace. It felt so cheesy and forceful. And George saying Nancy sounded like a single woman with agency and options was a bit annoying. She'd been dating Nick for months. Why was she acting like she'd wasted her entire youth on him? And that was such fake girl power moment. I get that women get slut shamed so George was being supportive, but it made me roll my eyes a bit. How much can Nancy care about Ace if she's crushing on Park? She's attracted to, and impressed by, Park, and also wants to feel wanted after being stood up by Ace, I guess? I can never understand liking multiple people at once, because it's personally almost impossible for me to even like one single person. But that's on me, I guess. Nancy's the "normal" one.

Anyway, Park and Nancy are entirely wrong together. She's barely 19 and he's at least in his mid twenties. It's not the age gap that's the issue, but she's not even old enough to legally drink. She's practically a teenager, with no job or plans for the future, and he's already a well-respected agent, much more mature than her, as their interactions often show (eg. when she threw his words about space back at him and refused to ride in his car), with no plans to stay in Horseshoe Bay. But, really, the main issue is that she's too young. He's also in charge of a case in which she's sort of a person of interest, and she's working at the police station. He's supposed to be an authority figure of sorts. Furthermore, the fact that Nancy thinks there's nothing wrong with their relationship just shows she's still very immature, even if she's super smart, and that's okay because she's super young. But Park is old enough to know better so I don't know what his excuse is. And I also don't understand why the rest of the gang don't think it weird that Nancy almost only shows interest in older men (Owen, Park, the other detective - whatever happened to him? lmao, Gil...).

I think the most annoying part of the episode was George and Nick's fight though. It came out of nowhere to me and sounded like George was trying to make Nick into the bad guy so she felt better about dumping him. I don't love George so I hope I can be objective, but I honestly don't get why she said what she said. Nick wanted to save George? He always saves people and runs away? When did he try to save George? She didn't need saving when they got together, and he accepted her proposal because he loved her. Maybe her death curse was a factor, but young love is also intense and makes people act hasty. I don't get what she was accusing him of, and I also don't get why George thought she was settling? Maybe he was the first man who showed her what a good relationship was, but he didn't pursue her. She liked him first, so she didn't go for the first nice guy who showed her attention, because he still liked Nancy when George became interested in him. This whole argument was a bit forced.

Nancy and Ryan's fight felt forced too. I think this was the issue with the whole episode. The circumstances were forced as well. Why did Temperance even throw a party? In these small towns everyone's always throwing a ball lmao. Bess remembering to spike Temperance with a truth serum because she needed proof of her real intentions in Horseshoe Bay was so idiotic. "Nancy needs evidence!". Well, Bess, if you told her what you read in the letter she wouldn't think you made it up. Do you think she trusts you so little? Or that she thinks you're an insane compulsive liar and manipulator? Why would she think you made it up, especially when it was you who trusted Temperance first.

Lastly, Hannah's master plan was just knocking on Nancy's door? And she was upset Nancy didn't figure it out? Even if Nancy thought it was a ghost, she's too used to that. But then, at the party, Hannah magically remembered to mess with the radio! She was right to go after Ace though, because Nancy already had a mystery on her hands and when that happens she doesn't care about anything else.

[sirghostheart]

Once again, I'm thinking about the season one finale of BoJack Horseman, in which, at the rooftop of her house, Diane tells BoJack that she believes that all someone is what they do, to which BoJack responds that it's depressing. There's so much to unpack from this.

I'll be the first to admit that whenever I think about how all the things I do are who I am, it's motivating and even inspiring, to the point I even felt a bit confused with how BoJack found it depressing. Then I realized! Of course I find this motivating! I'm at the begining of my twenties while BoJack is in his fifties having a mid-life crisis, in which he's haunted by both what he didn't do and what he did, both as an actor and as a person. He tried to distract himself with meaningless bullshit and believed that he could get his ultimate fix by getting his memoir written and getting into the spotlight once again.

However, Diane grounds him back to reality, making him confront his past and questioning his ways, which gets him to slowly realize that he's not as much of a good guy as he'd like to think he is. He's needy, selfish, cowardly and just not a pleasent person to be around. He may or may not have a heart of gold, but at the end of the day, it doesn't matter. Herb dies without forgiving him. Diane is happily married to Mr. Peanutbutter. Todd flat out states that he gave up on not getting hurt by him. And when he reads his memoir, he can't unsee how he comes across to others.

He tries remedy this by writing his memoir himself, but his lack of writing skills and a drug trip from hell makes him realize that yes, Diane was right. But it leaves him haunted by the question: Is he really doomed be the person he is? But he soon follows up by seeking easy comfort begging Diane to tell him that he's a good person deep down, so he can return to the safe reality of a sitcom character. He doesn't get that. What he gets is that he needs to put on the work to be a better person, and thus, get the love he wants. Part of him doesn't want to do this work, but a bigger part of him believes that he can't do it. It's just too late for him.

Now, let's talk about Diane!

The reason she believes that what you do is what you are can be seen as a response to her past, especially her upbringing. She was emotionally abused by her family and bullied at school, and also got diagnosed with depression at college. So, in order to cope with all that, she focus on what she can control, or at least what believes she can and has to. This is a double-edged sword, as it's shown later but especially in season 2 when she's confronted with the fact that she hasn't done much as she'd want to and has fallen into a safe routine, and when she does try to do something, it backfires, getting her into trouble and not even making a dent on the world.

Her breaking point is her expedition to Cordovia, writing about Sebastian St. Clair's humanitarian exploits, only to be confronted with the fact that she just can't handle that and has to come back to america in shame and with PTSD. And if Sebastian, who's an egotsitical glory hound who's only helping others to ease his guilty conciousness is doing more good to the world than her, what does it make her?

At the end of Season 5, after having sex twice with her ex-husband despite knowing he was dating someone else, learning that she was friends with a someone who nearly took the advantage of a seventeen year old girl and realizing that she might be enabling BoJack (and by extension, lots of dumb assholes) with her writing in Philbert (which BoJack especifically recruited her to make it less misogynistic), she can't trust her own judgement or influence anymore. It takes her GirlCroosh boss Stefani to tell her that she can't hold others and herself to impossible standards because it only messes her up. This influences her to reject the view that there are "bad" and "good" guys, instead, just imperfect people that should try to hurt eachother less .

And so, she helps set BoJack in a path of true recovery.

God, I love their relationship.

[thornfield13713]

Nimona prompt: Ambrosius & Ballister’s first date

Okay! Here we are - I'd put them at 16/18 for this, so quite young still, assuming they're in their mid-twenties in the show at a push - early 20s seems more likely, honestly.

Mostly movie-based, I am reading the comic, but it is slow going, this is my first time writing these characters, so...please be kind.

It wasn’t exactly a date, Ambrosius told himself, nearly vibrating out of his skin.

It was just- Him and Bal. Ballister. Going out for a meal after training, just like they always did. Okay, it was a couple hours after training this time, not just piling into the Horned Serpent with their hair still wet from the showers for nachos. It wasn’t the Horned Serpent, either, their usual place for these things, which was-

Which was fine.

Really, fine.

Not like he was going to find there wasn’t anything he could eat on the menu, be too embarrassed to say anything and end up just picking at something he didn’t even like all evening while his grandmother snapped at him for embarrassing the line of Gloreth- Not like it was going to be like those first days at the Institution, before he’d learnt to like the canteen food, or at least to mostly ignore how most of it tasted and felt in his mouth until he could almost persuade himself he liked it.

But it was cool. Pretty.

Actually, far too pretty.

It was a sort of…light, airy, open-air place. There were blooming flowers growing up the sort of wicker fence around the open-air seating area, and little string lights too. There weren’t candles on the tables, but then it was still only mid-afternoon, and candles felt like more of an evening thing-

Also more of a date thing.

And this wasn’t a date.

Just…two knight cadets. Getting something to eat. A couple hours after training.

…he’d probably dressed up too much, had he dressed up too much?

He tugged awkwardly at his collar, and wondered desperately if the cologne had been too much - he never wore it, usually, but someone had sent him a bottle for some sponsorship thing, and- Well, it had seemed like the thing to do-

In the seat opposite him, Bal looked about as awkward about all of this as Ambrosius felt, hunching in on himself in the delicate spindly seat and staring down at the table as if the cutlery might spontaneously come to life and attack them.

That…might be better, actually. Bal was the best in their class at…basically everything, after all. Jousting, sword-fighting, even the science classes no-one expected knights to ever actually need. Especially the science classes, actually. His whole face lit up whenever they got to do a practical or independent project, even when Ambrosius - always more of an arts person - couldn’t make heads or tails of what they were supposed to be doing. Or of Bal’s excited, hundred-mile-a-minute explanations.

Not that he’d ever tell Bal that, or he might stop giving them, and there was nothing in the world as wonderful as Bal in full flood about some obscure scientific idea or other that Ambrosius had never even heard of, but Bal seemed to understand perfectly.

Not that Ambrosius was bad in their lessons or anything, but- Well, he’d been training pretty much since he learnt to walk, even before the other noble-born cadets had started. He had extra training, too, because there was a standard to uphold. The last scion of the line of Gloreth couldn’t fall short of the example set by his illustrious forebears. His mother would’ve been ashamed, Grandmother always said, of a son who cried when presented with a toy sword instead of the stuffed rabbit he’d wanted-

Not that Ambrosius could know what she would have wanted, but Grandmother seemed pretty sure.

And that wasn’t- He was making it about himself, that was an asshole thing to do. The point he’d been trying to make was, if he’d started at the same time as everyone else, got the same lessons as everyone else, he’d be thoroughly middle-of-the-pack, and he knew it. And then there was Bal, who was better than- just about all of them, and worked twice as hard as any of them, and- What was he even doing with Ambrosius anyway? Sure, the other cadets were assholes sometimes, especially Thodd, who’d kept picking on Ballister long after Ambrosius had shot up a foot and suddenly stopped being so easy to pick on, but outside the Institute? Did nobody else have eyes? Or a brain? Or-

“Uh…Ambrosius? Did you…hear me, or…?”

“What-” Ambrosius shook himself. “Uh- Yeah. Yeah, I- Sorry, brain just sort of…went, you know?”

“Is it the menus?” Bal asked, his eyes doing that thing of theirs where they seemed to become twice their usual size whenever he was worried about something. “I didn’t- I mean, they’re…that is a very fancy font. I’m not even sure I can read that…”

Ambrosius hadn’t even glanced at the menu, but- Yup, that was a font. A fancy one. His stomach clenched. And Bal looked absolutely miserable, and he’d been so happy when he’d asked Ambrosius if he wanted to try a new place this afternoon, and now Ambrosius was ruining it-

“It’s cool,” he said hastily. “I’m not- It’s not that bad. Fancy fonts are…actually easier. For me. Uh…what were you…”

He could always get the same thing as Ballister. Unless there were olives in it. Which there might be, Bal liked olives.

Bal’s eyes narrowed a little, then his shoulders went back as he brought up the menu.

“Well, I sort of like the look of the…uh…I have no idea what half of this stuff is…”

Okay. So much for that idea.

Bal had got the look he sometimes got at the Institute, when Thodd was trying to start something and he couldn’t see a way out that wouldn’t land him in trouble with the Director. Bal hated winding up in trouble. So of course there was nothing Thodd liked better than getting him into situations where anything he did would land him in trouble. Ambrosius reached out across the table to catch his hand, which-

Was that too much? For not-a-date? But they’d been holding hands for comfort like this since they were kids, it would be weird to stop now.

…apparently it was weird to do it, too, because Bal’s eyes had gone even wider than usual. He was smiling, though? That was- That was probably a good sign?

“...Uh…” Bal’s smile widened a little, and he flipped over his hand to squeeze Ambrosius’. “Hi? No, wait, that is the stupidest thing I could- Um…do you…” he trailed off. “I…uh…”

“Hey.” This was- This was more familiar territory, anyway.  Ambrosius knew what to do with this. “Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.”

“It can absolutely be that bad, it is that bad, why did I ever-”

“Well, just- Tell me what’s so bad, and we’ll figure it out. Together. Like always.”

If they’d been sitting side-by-side, Ambrosius would’ve bumped his shoulder against Bal’s. Opposite each other like this, he had to make do with squeezing his hand again.

For a moment, Bal looked stricken, and then he swallowed.

“Right. Right. Okay. Together. Sure. I can do that. We can do that,” he corrected. “Um. So…you know how I said we should grab a bite to eat after training today?”

“Yeah…?”

They were here because Bal had said that, and honestly, it was starting to feel like they’d both have been happier if they’d  just gone to the Horned Serpent like always instead-

“That was, um…” Bal shifted awkwardly. “Because I was…trying to…suggest that you…and me…that we…uh…”

He was staring very fixedly at the tablecloth now, which was kind of weird, as it was just plain white, no patterns or anything.

“...Bal?”

“Thatweshouldgoonadate,” Bal finished, all at a rush like if he took a breath he’d lose his nerve. He let out a long breath. “Uh- If you want to, I mean. Not that- I mean, of course you don’t want to, that’d be- I’m sorry. This was- This was a bad idea-”

He started getting up hastily, knocking the table a little, and Ambrosius followed suit, reaching for him even as Bal tried to pull his hand away.

“It wasn’t. A  bad idea,” he said quickly. People were staring at them, and it was- It was bad, but- It also made it easier, a little. The line of Gloreth couldn’t falter when there was an audience to impress. That was his duty to the kingdom, after all. Okay, the line of Gloreth wasn’t supposed to date commoners either, but- Once Ballister had his knighthood. Once he’d proven to everyone that he was just as good - was better than all the other, noble cadets in the Institute. Maybe then they could be open about it, and people wouldn’t be able to say that Ballister only got to be a knight at all, was only top of their class because Ambrosius was going easy on him, as if he wasn’t brilliant, and brave, and harder-working than any of them, all on his own.

He sat down, half-dragging Ballister down too, into the opposite chair.

“When you asked, I was-” he swallowed, and dropped his voice a little lower. “I was hoping you meant that. A date. I mean…” he tried to smile, the bright, sponsorship-friendly smile, the one people loved. “I got all dressed up for you and everything…”

“It looks great,” Ballister said, apparently reflexively, his eyes enormous and shining with something far, far too delicate. Ambrosius felt, abruptly, terrified. The sort of terror he felt balancing one of his grandmother’s fine blown-glass baubles on his head for posture practice, the certainty that one wrong move would break this beautiful, perfect thing, and there would be no putting it back together.

His fingers curled a little tighter against Ballister’s. “Y-yeah.” He laughed, a little nervously, a habit he’d trained himself out of around anyone but Ballister. “I- You too!”

He hadn’t- Ballister couldn’t really dress up the same way, because he only really had his Institute uniform that fit him, but he was- It looked like it had actually been pressed. Probably last night. Probably by hand - that was why he’d been late getting back to their dormitory. And why he’d been so cagey about it, even though Thodd had been sound asleep on the other side of the room and even the monster alert sirens weren’t enough to wake him up once he was out.

“Oh- Uh. Thank you. I mean, it’s not much, but…” Ballister glanced down at himself, a little bashful, and Ambrosius beamed. He couldn’t help it. The thought that Ballister had wanted to impress him, as if he had to do more than just be there for that- As if Ambrosius wouldn’t have been just as delighted in their usual booth at the Horned Serpent.

“I was going to…I mean, I heard this place was…” Bal trailed off. “Uh…Do you know what fancy foods are called?”

“Some of them.” Ambrosius paused, but- It was Ballister. Who’d never made fun of him, not even when they’d been kids, and Ambrosius had been short and knock-kneed and so scrawny he’d rattled in his training armour, before he’d put on height and muscle and the other extra training had begun. “...if you read out what they’re called to me, I can probably say what they are…”

“Oh, good. That’s at least one of us knows what…” Bal squinted at the menu, an expression of deep suspicion flitting briefly across his face, before coming back and setting up camp there. “Uh…does this actually say fish eggs?”

“Probably.”

“...who eats fish eggs?”

Ambrosius shrugged. “No-one who likes their tastebuds.”

“And- Oh. Oh, wow. That’s…they’re offering something called Goldenloin steak.” He lowered the menu, a comically affronted look on his face. “With olives.”

Ambrosius shrugged. “Yeah. That’s merchandising for you. You’ll have to deal with it yourself soon enough.” He grinned. “The greatest knights of a generation usually do.” And also Ambrosius. Because he was of the line of Gloreth, and that meant you got ‘greatest knight of a generation’ privileges even before you could properly joust.

It was hard to be sour about that, though, with Bal ducking his head behind the menu, nearly glowing with the force of his blush. He didn’t try to argue that wasn’t where he was headed, though. Bal might not be the bragging type, but he didn’t do false modesty either. He knew exactly how good he was. Which. Just made it more surprising that he wanted to go on a date with Ambrosius, whose biggest achievement so far was just…getting born to the right family and not being a complete embarrassment to them, but-

It was hard to cling to that, either, with Bal looking at him like that. Like Ambrosius had waved a wand and made all his wishes come true with just a few words.

Suddenly, he wanted nothing less than to be here, in this fancy restaurant, with far too many eyes still on them. They hadn’t even ordered anything yet, neither of them knew half of what was on the menu, and Ambrosius wanted-

He wanted one of the fascinating weird little holes-in-the-wall that Bal knew like the back of his hand. None of the rest of their cohort would even know where to look for the Horned Serpent, or the little ice-cream stand on a shabby corner that did the best salted caramel he’d ever tasted in his life. He wanted somewhere no-one would look twice at them, where he could hold Bal’s hand and- and kiss him, why not? And no-one would so much as bat an eye, because what would Ambrosius Goldenloin, last of the line of Gloreth, be doing in a place like that anyway?

“Do you…want to get out of here…?” he asked, half-expecting Ballister to look disappointed or upset - he’d chosen the place, after all. Instead, all Bal looked was desperately relieved.

“Nothing more.”

Ambrosius grinned at him. “Ice-cream sound better?”

“Rico One-Eye’s Stand?”

“You’ve read my mind.”

They couldn’t hold hands on their way out of the restaurant. There were still all those eyes, and Bal’s position at the Institute and in the public eye was tenuous enough without anything that could possibly smack of his getting special treatment, even if Ambrosius was just another student, no older or more senior than Ballister, who shouldn’t have been able to get him any special treatment at all.

But if they bundled up in outdoor cloaks they could cuddle up together on the Underground out to the cheaper part of town, and then there would be ice-cream, and sunshine, and Bal’s fingers on the shaved part of Ambrosius’ head as they kissed, gripping like he’d never let go.

[owl-writing]

Brought Together Across Timelines Main Cast

Each character has run the course of their lives until they died in their setting, and have now woken up in the middle of nowhere in Missouri.

Agnes Proto "PR070"

Agnes Proto, better known by her callsign "PR070", was a starship mechanic in a space-based science-fiction setting. She died in a ship failure accident and woke up back on Earth, in a vastly different time from when she was from. She's generally the tech guy, using her extensive knowledge of her timeline's technology and her patchwork knowledge of our modern technology to make sure things work like they're supposed to. She is decidedly human, though she's known many literal aliens thanks to her adventures on her previous ship.

Clyde Miller "Beatdown"

Clyde "Beatdown" Miller was great at shakedowns. At least, until he found himself on the wrong end of a bullet. Now he's adapting to technology a hundred years ahead of his time, in a location that isn't as kind to dragon-like lizard men as his city was. He's using his strength to help out around the house while he gets his massive feet under him.

Empyreal Avenger "Manuel Rodriguez"

Manuel Rodriguez was born with superstrength, the power of flight, and the powers of light and warmth. When he turned eighteen, he was scooped up by a league of heroes before he could even blink, and he has molded himself into the paragon Empyreal Avenger over the course of twenty years, to the point where it's become his primary identity. But the paragon failed one day, falling to his nemesis, and found himself in middle-of-nowhere Missouri instead of the metropolitan he lived in before. He's adapting to a more rural area with less supervillain activity.

Gregory Preston

One of the two people who didn't actually die, Gregory Preston was living on the farm of his partner (William) while he worked for the butcher shop. It was surprising to his customers to walk in and see him, given that he's a human-sized rabbit guy, but he tries not to worry about it. He's worked in the butcher shop since he was a young man, and now, in his mid thirties, he owns the place and runs it.

Helen Spike

Helen is from a late-to-post-apocalyptic timeline where, to hear her tell it, "everyone lost their goddamn minds". She worked as a sniper to protect the settlement she lived in, but a raid left her dead - and led to her waking up back in time to a pre-apocalyptic version of Earth. She spends quite a bit of time pondering whether or not this is actually the past of her world or if it's an alternate timeline, so needless to say, the existential crisis is strong in this one. She's human, but worries that she's brought back some concerning effects from her time. She's one of the younger humans in this situation, being in her early twenties.

Johnny Mason

Everyone knows the story of the Devil going down to Georgia, but what happened to Johnny the fiddler after that? Well, the Devil didn't claim his soul, but he also didn't go to Heaven due to the deal he made with the Devil, so he exists as a cursed revenant of his former self. Needless to say, he thinks it sucks, especially because he can't talk and has to use shit like pen and paper to communicate with his new housemates (who can at least see him, but not all of them can read English). At least he's still in his home, even though it's been passed down to his descendant, William.

Lindhurst Tempest

Lindhurst was once a pirate on the high seas but was killed during a mutiny - and he wasn't even the captain! Now he's in landlocked Missouri and it's driving him nuts. Especially since he's not exactly human, despite looking like it. A landlocked merfolk used to the sea and trapped in human form because he doesn't know if he can swim safely in the lakes and rivers of Missouri leads to quite a few cases where he's overfilled the bathtub and flooded the bathroom. He's not coping well.

Niobe Turner

Niobe was a traveling mage-merchant but was murdered by some penny-pinching adventurers. Now she's in Missouri with all of her magic and skills, but needs to learn to adapt to Missouri's flora and fauna. It's no problem for this skilled shapeshifter, but she'd prefer to find a way back to her original timeline and get revenge on the adventurers who killed her.

Pallene Thompson "Titania"

Pallene was Empyreal Avenger's sidekick and met her end the same way he did. She was born to a human mother and an alien father, giving her many powerful abilities like flight, energy manipulation, and human empathy. Like her mentor, she's adapting to rural Missouri and its relative lack of supervillains. She's gotten a job in the local library, flying to work instead of dealing with the problem of getting her driver's permit renewed.

Redline Carson

A plague doctor from a steampunk setting, Redline succumbed to the very disease they were treating others for. They're working on understanding that they need to take care of themself just as much as they care for others and has adapted possibly the easiest of the displaced peoples in this Missouri home, getting a job at the county health department half an hour's drive away and obtaining a driver's license of their own. The only problem is the whole "has never removed their mask so we don't know what they are" thing. There are various nonformal bets going around the others in the house, including things like "that's their actual face" and "they have anxiety so they don't want to show their face".

Shania Whittaker

Shania was a prodigial gunslinger from a western setting, practically undefeated in a duel, but met her end at an early age regardless. Now she's in Missouri and honestly dealing pretty well with the different climate. She works for a local antique/secondhand store that's down the street from the library that Pallene works at, so Pallene usually just carries her while flying to work. She also got to keep her horse, Spitfire, so that's who most of her income goes to.

William Willis

Descended from legendary folk hero Johnny Mason, William originally thought that the farm they inherited was too small for them and their boyfriend, Gregory. And then they found a bunch of people from vastly different genres in the field. So they now have to balance their job, their farm (thankfully not one full of animals, but still), and their new charges. Please help them, they are exhausted.