#he wants to discover a mammoth

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

[weebsinstash]

hey, can I have more husband and wife family dynamics with thragg? maybe more about her pregnancy or the kids' childhood/baby time?

Sure can! It's been pretty fun writing about potential scenarios where this monstrous piece of shit can actually feel love. First and foremost I was watching a video on YouTube going over this scene again and uh Comic Readers KNOW How Fucked This Man Is. um, out of context vague spoilers but, I'm assuming people asking about Thragg have read the comics or are curious about the comics but like yall Need To Know how he treats the kids of his enemies

I feel like I need to share/remind people of this scene because like, this man can be kind of hard to pin down. He's from this loveless society that sees kindness as weakness and he's like King Dickhead but there are still times when he can be quite courteous, even apologetic, sarcastic, whatever. I think at the end of the day he's just a very selfish, explosive, emotionally impulsive man but revisiting this scene was a little surprising for me since I forgot he was even like, capable of "small kindnesses" like saying sorry or whatever. Like. Is him wiping her tears while smearing blood all over her face a well intentioned accident or is he like waging psychological warfare on this like, i think she's literally 5 years old. What is the purpose of him apologizing to a child for splashing blood of her family member on her when he intends to kill her or leave her for dead in front of her dying parents anyways. I'm still trying to get a feel on this man

THAT BEING SAID, moving on, we're talking about a yandere Thragg today and thankfully that comes with perks

- it's pretty obvious but like, you are his favorite mate and your children are his favorite children. I like to think of concepts with Reader being Ursaal and Onaan's mother or even the previously mentioned triplet idea with Mark being their sibling (otherwise I'd have to invent new characters and that doesn't, resonate the same, and I also really like Ursaal actually and I feel like there's some real story potential in Ursaal discovering more of her humanity through her mother's kindness and wanting to protect her mother from her father)

-can you imagine like. I still think about the idea where you're actually Nolan's mate but one day you mouth off to Thragg and he "puts you in your place" in front of Nolan as a punishment to you both and like a month later you find out you're pregnant and, I imagine abortions are only done on Viltrum if the fetus is too weak or defective, so you're forced to carry it and you and Nolan are lying that it's his and then one day Thragg just, passes by, sees your swelling tummy, takes one sniff of you, "it's mine" and demands a paternity test. And you'd think, "oh surely he'd just take the baby" which is what you'd prefer but, no it becomes a pretext for him to steal you from Nolan altogether

-you're fed incredibly nutrient dense, protein packed, ultimate pregnancy food because Thragg wants those babies as healthy as possible. Thragg has probably had other alien kids before but these are his first hybrid or nearly fully Viltrumite children and that makes them special. New dad Thragg holding up these little absolute mammoths of newborns with all their chunk and pudge and rolls and he's just so proud, "look at how robust these children are! Surely they have inherited my strength! Fine additions to the Viltrum Empire were born on this day" and you're like half awake in bed and he just, pets your hair

-ok just. Ok just picture it like. You're pregnant and upset and so stressed out because you didn't want to be Nolan's mate after he helped conquer Earth but at least you had known him and liked him initially. You're just constantly stressed out and angry and watching every single word you say around Thragg because you don't know him or what he's capable of, but I imagine a sort of scenario where he's taking you to the doctor and running tests and procedures and just, you know prenatal checkup stuff, but the doctors are all speaking to Thragg instead of you, you aren't even being told your own test results, and the two of you finally arrive back home and you just break down crying and kind of tear into him, "I'm sure YOU have had lots of kids before but I'VE never had a baby before and I don't know what to expect or what's going to happen or- or -" and you're just bawling because, it's not a lie you're scared. You're having a baby and you're gonna be a new mom and it's entirely against your will, out of your control, and that's incredibly stressful. And this becomes a moment where Thragg actually shows some humanity by sitting you down and discussing the doctors visit with you, and that's one of the first times the two of you actually have a civil, extended conversation

Thragg thinking he's so fucking big and tough and then he sees you this little fragile fleshy untrained civillian with the big teary boo hoo eyes with your shaking hands on your little belly as you cry about being scared about giving birth to his baby and he's just, "shit I DO have feelings" and immediately feels the overwhelming need to comfort you. He'll comfort you under the guise of "stress isn't good for the children" which is true but, it's him blanketing his own concern and masking it under an excuse

-I kind of feel like that hypothetical event would be like, a footnote in your relationship. He starts treating you differently, attentive in new ways, more... emotional ways. He'll stop by while he's working on a break or something to check on with you and the assigned caretakers he has guarding you (because the very second you're confirmed pregnant you have 24/7 security) and he'll awkwardly grunt out questions about, have you eaten yet, are you experiencing any pain today, any discomfort, any new symptoms. He'll check in with your guards/nannies privately about if there's anything you're doing that he needs to know about, give tou a nice husbandly shoulder touch and then (reluctantly) getting back to work

-to be blunt part of me questions if he even has sex to create children or if he uses something akin to IVF and I only say this because of the absolute ASSEMBLY LINE he sets up on Thraxia. Trust me though he beats the kitty up with you CONSTANTLY

-I actually think after giving birth is like the ONE time you're allowed any birth control because apparently if you have too many pregnancies in too close time frames it actually sucks the calcium out of your bones and can give you osteoarthritis and Thragg wants you healthy, "for more future children obviously" which is such a lie because let's say you have your miracle birth of giving him twins or triplets or whatever but you hemmorage and become infertile or whatever. Mf is STILL keeping you around. When you think about it he technically doesn't even need you to help raise his children, he has people for that, but he forces you to be part of the process anyways

- tbh I kind of like the idea of Thragg developing some weird fucking like complex where he discovers he feels comforted cuddling you, like man gets hit by oxytocin like a fucking freight train, and it becomes him literally being unable to sleep without you in his arms. You could be in a yelling screaming argument with this man and he suddenly like, just completely shuts you down, "ENOUGH!! I require rest and I won't tolerate anymore of your childish whining!" And you could be spitting mad at him and he's just, picking you up just physically picks you up and drags you to bed anyways. Hooks his arms around your waist as the big spoon and buries his face in your hair even as you spit insults about how you hope he kills himself

Like I think I've mentioned this idea with other characters before but imagine Thragg waking up on the middle of the night IMMEDIATELY PISSED because the bed beside him is cold and he finds you on the couch, on the couch, maybe even without blankets and visibly uncomfortable, because yeah he WILL wake you up to drag you back to bed with him.

- Thragg being this warrior who literally watched people be disembowled and tortured and conquered races but suddenly you're in labor and he's in the delivery room (he refuses to wait outside) watching you literally scream in pain and he just, takes your hand and tells you to squeeze, and that it'll be alright, and he sees you so vulnerable and scared and emotional and you're looking to him for some kind of help but he can't, even with all his strengths and feats he can't help you right now, however this pregnancy goes is up to fate and the doctors and he feels like an actual visceral HUMBLING sense of helplessness that just makes him, even more obsessively protective over you

- deadass if it becomes a "he can only save one: you or the children" life-threatening pregnancy scenario, he chooses you. Says you can always try again but even if you wind up infertile and "useless" to him, he's too attached to you at this point, it doesn't matter if you "don't serve a function" or whatever bullshit Viltrumite mindset he may have had with previous mates before. You're different to him, and you're making HIM different as a person

- You're just half alive on the couch because Giving Birth is Hard and here's Thragg doing shit like personally bringing you water, feeling your forehead for any fever, monitoring your condition, aggressively interrogating your guards for extra info, sitting beside you with your babies in his arms. He lets you rest after giving birth and nearly bends over backwards

- I feel like at some point you're forced to accept a lot of real fucked up stuff and especially if you are a hybrid Vultrimite yourself and thus will be with Thragg for, basically forever, like some real "mate, do you have any cravings today. What do the children require" "ummm... at the ceremony last month, there was that... blue, little.... crab thing?" "A Florkian. They are incredibly rare" "oh... I'm sorry, I didn't know-" " -and since I observed that you were fond of the taste when you were consuming them, I went ahead and conquered their homeworld and farms have been established. I can have the slaves prepare a dish for you right away" "oh, thank you, ive been craving it ever since i ate it but i didnt want to bother by asking 🥰" "as your mate it is my duty to provide for you. Do not keep any of your desires from me"

- your children are getting trained as soldiers the second they develop powers and that's something you'll have to get used to. If your little babies get their powers at 5, they're still learning combat, getting knocked around, near beaten, "toughened up". Thragg will conceal the full extent of how they're treated from you because the way he sees it, you weren't raised on Viltrum and you're simply ignorant of their culture. He doesn't need you to accept how things are. Your kids will come home with black eyes and bruises and bloodied noses and he'll growl at you not to make them too soft as you weep over Ursaal missing a chunk of her hair because an opponent grabbed her by it and she had to break away and some was ripped out at her scalp, like. The psychological damage of asking your small child how their day with their father went, "it was excellent mother, I made my first kill!!" And then gleefully describing to you in detail how while their father was fighting an enemy soldier, the soldiers child attacked yours, and, your baby killed another kid. Like. That's the sort of thing you have to be raised with to block out of your heart. Going to hug your child who may not even be 10 years old and they have literal blood on their hands

-personal headcanon but also semi canon but I imagine Ursaal is the most competent of your twins and is Thragg's favorite. She just has a better tactical mind on her shoulders and isn't, uh. As horribly sadistically violent as Onaan. Like say your kids become platonic yandere or whatever, or, you have your own kids with thragg and the twins are separate but still attached to you. Onaan is the kid you find killing cats because he's jealous they get more attention than him while Ursaal is like, giving her father incredibly detailed reports and her own insight into what you've been up to, how you're feelings, things you say and do when Thragg isn't around

-so I know y'all see that image I posted with Thragg and his twins. I tried to censor, The Cape last time but I realized like, even with censoring the head it's still super obvious who that is, there's only one white furred creature in this entire show. I imagine after Thragg gets his Beast Drip that, once Throkk's daughter comes for revenge, she is also slaughtered, and her pelt becomes YOUR cape. Or maybe Thragg offhandedly mentions to you that BB Jr has vowed vengeance and you're casually flipping through a book, "is she as strong as her father, like if you had to rate it 1 to 10 with her father being 10 and 1 being a human. If the daughter is at about a 7 or below, Ursaal should be able to handle her, get herself a nice coat to match her father" and Thragg feels this warmth in his chest to hear you're actually observant of his/your children and their prowess, especially to hear you praise Ursaal in such a uh violent context, just casually suggesting his daughter could turn another sentient humanoid creature into a pelt to wear. This is another example of "living the viltrum life will eventually dehumanize you and rob you of certain empathies"

- I don't think you would actually have a title but could you imagine if Thragg decides you're like, officially his true mate, like the mate above all others, like you're the Empress in his little harem of concubines and ladies in waiting. I hc that your official title is something like Grand Duchess or perhaps if this is the twin/triplet scenario something more vaguely historical sounding like The High Mother or Regent Mother or, you get the point

-I still think "Reader turns out to be an incredibly late blooming hybrid" is a neat concept but I also don't know how they would miss that since during your pregnancy and all you're receiving medical care out the ass but like. Thragg personally training both you and the children as a family. Would be kind of humiliating honestly because it's kind of vaguely implied you should learn things before the kids do and if you struggle, here's Thragg, telling his kids in private they have to protect you and keep an eye on you and report any problems back to him

- thragg would definitely be training you in hand to hand but suddenly finds he can't bear hitting you in the face or hitting you at a certain strength. Like. Absolutely 100% you're gonna have a lot of scenarios where you're brawling or wrestling and he pins you and it swiftly transitions to you getting rawdogged from your high on adrenaline husband. Tbh that sex would probably be his favorite, where he has to defeat you in combat and then rewards himself. Can probably border from hatesex to consensual to noncon, not that he has a problem doing THAT to you either

- probably has portraits done of you and him. Idk do you think Viltrum has like enough art culture for portraits to be a thing? Most fascist tyrants have portraits. He would have several done: you and him, just you, you while pregnant, him and you while pregnant, you holding your babies, you and him holding your babies, and family shots as they grow up. Say you conquer a planet together as a family and one day you're revisiting and there's some sort of museum set up amd you find like a wall length portrait of, you and your children soaked in blood tearing carnage through the fire and flames and Thragg is beside you just nodding in approval, "they captured your image rather well"

- goooooddddd imagine you're just a normal human and you progressively start showing signs of aging. You start getting more wrinkles. Your body starts working in different ways, popping, cracking, aching. Onaan, Ursaal, and Thragg all notice and they're like FREAKING OUT HONESTLY. The children don't want to accept that their mother is actually going to be a speck on the timeline of their entire lifespans. Thragg doesn't want to accept that he has to let you go and you're never coming back. They all become obsessed with finding ways to keep you young, keep you alive, fuck it they'll clone you and transfer your consciousness into a new body if they have to! This is comic book world and these are obsessed aliens and they have OPTIONS

- something something "what if Reader isn't a viltrumite hybrid but is still like super-powered or a mutant or whatever and this isn't revealed until you like are fatally injured or even DIE die and suddenly you, pop back up". Cause I feel like this "close call" would drive any yandere literally insane because, what if there's no second chance, what just happened, can you still die, they can never never never never never allow you to get hurt ever ever ever again

Thragg just walks into the kitchen and you have the stove top red hot and you've just got your palm resting on it and you look to him kind of just shocked, all, "look... nothing happens... I just feel some of the warmth" and Thragg just puts his fist through your oven anyways, "you could've gotten hurt" and immediately picking you up and carrying you to some sort of perceived "safer place"

- this is like a specific scenario but like, can you imagine as a mom you like to brush and comb Ursaal's hair and you idly suggest she could always grow it out more and you could help braid it and things, but once it starts getting longer Thragg objects and says it could get grabbed during a fight and orders her to cut it but you step in and say she shouldnt have to, it's HER hair, and you two get into it, and one day Ursaal is brought home by her father and he's all but shaved her head after she had actually grown it out to a decent length. You and Thragg are at odds over how to treat rhe children and Ursaal begins to realize that many of the restrictions her father instills on her are because of a way of life she may not fully agree with, a life filled with violence and bloodshed with no room for love or kindness or creativity. She probably helps you from going over the edge too, honestly. If anything else through this life with Thragg, in your darkest places you may still find yourself thinking you have to keep going to try and help your children

- with others, Thragg is the kind of yandere where he's standing in the same room as you and you're both doing completely different things and he suddenly says, "so I noticed during the meeting that your eyes kept lingering on my mate" and without further warning he's beating up someone on the accusation they were lusting for his wife, no discussion, just fists , and he'll do shit like this a lot to the point people don't feel comfortable being around you and you're just further socially isolated

- I feel like Thragg would have some weird like fondness slash fetish for watching you breastfeed. Like, awww here's his cute little wife with his chubby little babies and you're giving them their nice milk, what a good mom, providing for the babies he put in your belly ❤️ part of me is convinced if you're a viltrumite or hybrid or whatever that you uh. Eventually wind up with a lot of babies. A LOT of babies. Do you think he would want a specific amount or its just vibes. Like you're over 300 years old and you've already got 50 kids with him but he sees you teaching one of your youngest sons how to throw a punch and suddenly he wants another

- all I'm saying is if he ever catches you self harming or attempting to hurt yourself he's gonna have a real extreme reaction. Like he finds you cutting yourself with a broken glass and you're immediately restrained and taken to a hospital, completely stripped, inspected for other wounds, and if there are any and especially a lengthy history of them, you're in such trouble. But I also think it would be extremely difficult to hide this from him since as time goes on you two are constantly having sex or he's inviting himself into your shower to bathe with you. You accidentally bang your arm on a counter or something and get a tiny bruise, this man will know about it and wants a detailed report on where it came from

- even when you guys aren't super familiar with each other and you've "just met" he's already protective and all that. Like you've just been brought into his home and you barely even know him still and he may even act mean and angry to you and then one day he sees you have a large bruise on your arm, "what is this?" ".... it's nothing, Grand Regent" "I asked you a question and you'll answer me: where did this come from" "... I spoke out of turn with one of your advisors and turned to leave without permission, Grand Regent" "And so they grabbed you?" "Yes Grand Regent" "who" "it was my fault, I-" "WHO" and the second you give a name or description he's wordlessly leaving the room and shows up again HOURS later with visible blood on him, "it has been handled. You are not to be harmed or punished without my permission or instruction"

- in some scenario where you leave the kids behind and try to run away, like... he isn't just gonna throw up his hands, "well I already got children out of her, she has served her purpose" and leave you the fuck alone. If anything this man would track you down just to tell you off for having the fucking nerve to disobey and defy him! I can picture an actively captured wife where you are constantly kept on some kind of restraint or have a bracelet or collar or even a LEAD THAT HE HOLDS and you're IMPRISONED rather than "I'm being monitored but otherwise I have my own agency". Thragg will make himself a throne that you can be chained to if he has to. He'll have restraints made that are decorative and complimentary of your features. Imagine he's making some sort of public appearance and while he's speaking he's got an arm around your waist and you're pulled up against him and meanwhile you've got. A bar gag and cannot speak

- really, truly, in a way, you become a symbol, but one of all different kinds. There are Viltrumites who see how their mighty Grand Regent treats his mate and they are viscerally disgusted (Kregg and Lucan comes to mind), like people who really start to question the society they are living in, questioning if it really must be so selfish and devoid of empathy, questioning if they really want to keep living this way and for their children and their children's children to live like this. Then there are others who see the way the Grand Regent controls his mate and see its as a sign of strength and permission to treat their own mates the same.

Mostly, though... the only thing that will take you away from Thragg is death. Until the day one of you dies, you're stuck with him, and there's basically no one around who's stronger than he is, period. You might as well cozy up and get friendly with your new husband, since you're going to be together for a long time and spend lots, and lots, and LOTS of time together ❤️

[literary-illuminati]

An Arbitrary Collection of Book Recommendations

(put together for a friend out of SFF I've read over the last couple of years)

Cli-Fi

Tusks of Extinction and/or The Mountain in the Sea by Ray Nayler. They’re pretty different books in a lot of ways – one is a novel about discovering a certain species of squid in the Pacific might have developed symbolic language and writing, the other a novella about a de-extinction initiative to restore mammoths to the Siberian taiga – but they share a pretty huge overlap in setting, tone and themes. Specifically, a deep and passionate preoccupation with animal conservation (and a rather despairing perspective on it), as well as a fascination with transhumanism and how technology can affect the nature of consciousness. Mountain is his first work, and far more substantial, but I’d call it a bit of a noble failure in achieving what it tries for. Tusks is much more limited and contained, but manages what it’s going for.

A Half-Built Garden by Ruthanna Emrys. In a post-post-apocalyptic world that’s just about figured out how to rebuild itself from the climate disasters of the 21st century (but that’s still very much a work in progress), aliens descend from the sky and make First Contact. They’re a symbiotic civilization, and they’re overjoyed at the chance to welcome a third species into their little interstellar community – and consider it a mission of mercy besides, since every other species they’ve ever encountered destroyed themselves and their planet before escaping it. Awkwardly, our heroine and her whole society are actually pretty invested in Earth and the restoration thereof – and worried that a) the alien’s rescue effort might not care about their opinions and b) that other interest groups on earth might be more willing to give the hyper-advanced space-dwelling aliens the answers they want to hear. Basically 100% sociological worldbuilding and political intrigue, so take that as you will.

Throwback Sci Fi

Elder Race by Adrian Tchaikovsky is possibly the only thing I’ve read published in decades to take the old cliche of ‘this generic-seeming fantasy world is actually the wreckage of a ruined space age civilization, and ‘magic’ and ‘monsters’ are the remnants of the technology’ and play it entirely straight. Specifically, it’s a two-POV novella, where half the story is told from the perspective of a runaway princess beseeching the ancient wizard who helped found her dynasty for help against a magical threat, and half is from the perspective form the last surviving member of a xeno-anthropology mission woken out of stasis by the consequences of the last time he broke the Prime Directive knocking on his ship tower door and asking for help. Generally just incredible fun.

Downbelow Station by C. J. Cherryh is, I think, the only thing on this list written before the turn of the millennium. It’s proper space opera, about a habitat orbiting an immensely valuable living world that’s the lynchpin of logistics for the functionally rogue Earth Fleet’s attempt to hold off or defeat rebelling and somewhat alien colonies further out. The plot is honestly hard to summarize, except that it captures the feel of being history better than very nearly any other spec fic I’ve ever read – a massive cast, none of them with a clear idea of what’s going on, clashing and contradictory agendas, random chance and communications delays playing key roles, lots of messy ending, not a single world-shaking heroes or satanic masterminds deforming the shape of things with their narrative gravity to be seen. Somewhat dated, but it all very impressively well done.

Pulpy Gay Urban Fantasy Period Piece Detective Stories Where Angels Play a Prominent Role

A Master of Djinn by P. Djèlí Clark stars Fatma el-Sha’arawi, the youngest woman working for the Ministry of Alchemy, Enchantments and Supernatural Entities in Cairo, a couple of decades after magic returned to the world and entirely derailed the course of Victorian imperialism. There’s djinn and angels and crocodile gods, and also an impossible murder that needs solving! The mystery isn’t exactly intellectually taxing, but this is a very fun tropey whodunnit whose finale involves a giant robot.

Even Though I Knew The End by C. L. Polk is significantly more restrained and grounded in its urban fantasy. It’s early 20th century Chicago, and a PI is doing one last job to top off the nest egg she’s leaving her girlfriend before the debt on her deal with the devil comes due. By what may or may not be coincidence, she stumbles across a particularly gruesome crime scene – and is offered a deal to earn back her soul by solving the mystery behind it. Very noir detective, with a setting that just oozes care and research and a satisfyingly tight plot.

High Concept Stuff That Loves Playing around With Format and the Idea of Narratives

Radiance by Catherynne M. Valente is a story about a famous documentarian vanishing on shoot amid mysterious and suspicious circumstances, as told by the recovered scraps of the footage she was filming, and different drafts of her (famous director) father’s attempt to dramatize the events as a memorial to her. It’s set in a solar system where every planet is habitable and most were colonized in the 19th century, and culturally humanity coasts on in an eternal Belle Epoque and (more importantly) Golden Age of Hollywood. Something like half the book is written as scripts and transcripts. This description should by now either have sold you or put you off entirely.

The Spear Cuts Through Water by Simon Jimenez is the only classic-style epic fantasy on this list, I believe? The emperor and his three demigod sons hold subjugated in terror, but things are changing. The emperor, terrified of death, has ordered a great fleet assembled to carry him across the sea in pursuit of immortality. The day before he sets out on his grand pilgrimage to the coast, a guilt-ridden guard helps the goddess of the moon escape her binding beneath the palace. From there, things spiral rapidly out of anyone’s control. The story’s told through two or three (depending( different layers of narrative framing devices, and has immense amounts of fun playing with perspective and format and ideas about storytelling and legacy.

I Couldn’t Think of Any Categories That Included More Than One of These

All The Names They Used For God by Anjali Sachdeva is a collection of short stories, and probably the most literary thing on this list? The stories range wildly across setting and genre, but are each more or less about the intrusion of the numinous or transcendent or divine into a world that cracks and breaks trying to contain it. It is very easily the most artistically coherent short story collection I’ve ever read, which I found pretty fascinating to read – but honestly I’m mostly just including this on the strength of Killer of Kings, a story about an angel sent down to be John Milton’s muse as he writes Paradise Lost which is probably one of the best things I read last year period.

Last Exit by Max Gladstone – the Three Parts Dead and How You Lose the Time War guy – could be described as a deconstruction of ‘a bunch of teenagers/college kids discover magic and quest to save the world!’ stories, but honestly I’d say that obscures more than it reveals. Still, the story is set with that having happened a decade in the past, and the kids in question have thoroughly fucked up. Zelda, the protagonist, is kept from suicide by survivor’s guilt as much as anything, and now travels across America working poverty jobs and sleeping in her car as she hunts the monsters leaking in through the edges of a country rotting at the seams. Then there’s a monster growing in the cracks of the liberty bell, an in putting it down she gets a vision of someone she thought was dead is just trapped – or maybe changed. So it’s time to get the gang together again and save the world! This one’s hard to rec without spoiling a lot, but the prose and characterization are all just sublime. Oddly in conversation with the whole Delta Green cosmic horror monster hunting subgenre for a story with nothing to do with Lovecraft.

Some Desperate Glory by Emily Tesh is a story about aliens destroying the earth, and growing up in the pseudo-fascist asteroid survivalist compound of the last bits of the human military that never surrendered. It stars a heroine whose genuinely indoctrinated for the first chunk of the book and just deeply endearing terrible and awful to interact with, and also has a plot that’s effectively impossible to describe without spoiling the big twist at the end of the first act. Possibly the only book I read last year which I actively wish was longer – which is both compliment and genuine complaint, for the record, the ending’s a bit messy. Still, genuinely meaty Big Ideas space opera with very well-done characterization and a plot that does hold together. 

[theprinceofliones]

Headcanons for Tristan and TriLance?

Since Tristan is a Nephilim, both his Demon and Goddess instincts kind of fuck over each other and he'll go through periods where he'll want to bathe in the sun with his Goddess wings stretched out so he can take in the suns rays, or he'll want to snuggle up and sleep in the darkness of his rooms whilst his Demon wings curl around him.

He loves to match his mother so he'll style his hair just like hers, braid it just like hers, and put in pretty accessories to match her as well. He's a little momma's boy and he isn't ashamed of it lmfao (Meliodas is screaming inside because good lord his wife really gave him the greatest gift of all---a second her.)

Moves in his sleep and ends up looking more starfish than human.

He and Gawain are besties and they slay. literally.

Tristan has had the biggest, most enormous, most massive, mammoth-sized crush on Lancelot since they were old enough to walk, since he was too young to really know what a crush was lol but he's absolutely one hundred percent oblivious to it in every shape and form. The only reason Lancelot knows is because he can read hearts

Literally everyone knows about his crush besides Isolde mainly bc she doesn't WANT to see it, Percival bc he's too busy being oblivious about the heart eyes he makes at Naisens, and Tristan bc he grew up watching Meliodas and his uncle Ban act like a married couple even tho they both had wives so he just grew up assuming that everyone was close with their best mate like that (this is a completely wrong interpretation bc Ban and Meliodas are most definitely sexually and physically attracted to one another, have hooked up several times over the years, probably still do, and are just a little too queer for men who are married and have kids LMFAOOOOOO) (Their wives do not mind this and join them someti- *gunshots*)

He has two white lions named Elaena and Allura, about six miniature fluffy cows, and a dozen bunnies inside of magic farm inside of the castle created by Gowther lol

He gets his love of animals from Meliodas

He loves to have his wings pet and will purr if they are. He's a little miniature kitten hehe

Lancelot once discovered how sensitive his wings were during their travels with the rest of the 4KOTA and Tristan is unable to sleep for like the next three days and avoids Lancelot like he's the plague for a week bc he was terrified that he had just discovered his sexual awakening 😭

Red is his favorite color *cues to Lancelot*

I love these asks!!! Keep them coming!!!

[mask131]

So you want to know about Oz! (2)

In 1986, an anime was released in Japan: Ozu no Mahoutsukai (which is just "The Wonderful Wizard of Oz" in Japanese).

This animated series was an adaptation not just of "The Wonderful Wizard of Oz", the first Oz novel by Baum, but of all those that would follow! You had book 2, "The Marvelous Land of Oz", and book 3, "Ozma of Oz"... But then we jump to book 6, "The Emerald City of Oz", which forms the grand conclusion of the series. Book 4 and 5 were not adapted... completely cut out.

Why? Because these two books are, unfortunately, skippable.

Last time I left you on the enormous, ever-growing success of the original Oz trilogy. Now I want to present you... the curse that befell the creator of Oz.

L. Frank Baum wasn't just "the guy who wrote The Wizard of Oz". He was an author for children first and foremost, and he wrote a LOT of other books outside of his Oz stuff. His other most famous children work to this day, the only one able to rival his Oz creation, was his 1902's The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus, which was a work of fictional fundamental in the development of the modern image of Santa Claus:

But this was truly the only one of his other works that escaped the shadow of the Oz-mammoth... Before and in parallel to his Oz trilogy, Baum had written many other things. "Mother Goose in Prose", "American Fairy Tales", "The Enchanted Island of Yew", "Queen Zixi of Ix", "Sam Steele's Adventures on Land and Sea", "John Dough and the Cherub"... But none of these books became as successful or famous as his Oz novels. Worse: they sold really bad.

Everybody wanted Oz books. More Oz books, more Oz books! And while Baum had quite some fun working on "The Wonderful Wizard of Oz" and "The Marvelous Land of Oz"... he had never intended to serialize them. For him they were stand-alone novel, and that was done. But since his audience only asked for more Oz books, and disdained his other works, well, he had to do what paid! And so he continued the Oz novels... but with a certain "bad will" that clearly transpires in his work.

This already pops up by the third Oz book, "Ozma of Oz".

The first two Oz novels followed a specific rule: the story must happen in the Land of Oz, which is a magical land enclosed and shielded from the rest of the world. The Land of Oz is surrounded by a gigantic desert that one cannot cross unless exceptional events. Beyond this, is the human world... Yes, that's something people tend to forget: in his original vision for the Land of Oz, Baum wanted this magical land to be... somewhere on the American continent. Right in the middle of the 1900s American nations. Hence how a simple tornado can carry a little girl from Kansas to Oz... This is also explicitely told in the second book, where the characters cross the desert by accident, and discover "the world Dorothy came from".

But by Ozma of Oz, the rule was broken. Dorothy gets carried away by a storm in... a new land, the Land of Ev, who as it turns out exists outside of Oz, beyond the desert... Ozian characters cross the desert and join Dorothy in this new land, and most of the story is spent discovering this entire new setting.

While it is very pleasant and delightful to read, and brings some interesting worldbuilding, this already betrays the annoyance Baum was starting to feel towards Oz itself... He had written two novels taking place in Oz, and he was starting to run out of ideas. He had conceived two self-contained novels, two "one-shots" if you wish, and had no idea how to continue within Oz itself. So his solution was to take the characters everybody loved and wanted (he did brought back Dorothy in "Ozma of Oz" BECAUSE his audience kept asking him "Why wasn't Dorothy in the sequel?), but place them in a new "magical land" where he could have a breath of fresh air and work a new plot. This is what makes "Ozma of Oz" so interesting... But it was what would cause the start of the Oz downfall...

In 1908, Baum published "Dorothy and the Wizard of Oz", the fourth book of the Oz series. And a good part of this novel is... Dorothy, alongside the Wizard of Oz himself (who returns after his last appearance in the original novel), ending up sent into an underground realm, and exploring various magical chthonian lands as they try to make their way back to the surface... The last portion of the story does take place in Oz, mind you, but the bulk of the story is in random lands and realms Baum invented just for this book and never reuses later. Because at this point, Baum, who was stuck into doing Oz books but didn't want to continue Oz-stories, had decided to use a trick: only have the Oz protagonists but not the Oz land. Have Oz appear in the last chapters, but only after two thirds of adventures everywhere but in Oz. This was his way to still give what the audience wanted (more Oz adventures) without actually writing Oz books, but rather other fantasies that happened to connect with Oz...

This formula would be repeated with the fifth book of the series, which I'll talk about later, and unfortunately it creates a sincere drop in quality in those two novels. While very inventive, and entertaining to a certain extent (if you ignore some heavy doses of racism and old-fashioned xenophobia here and there), these novels are not as good or memorable as the original trilogy, and for one precise reason... They have no over-arching plot. They are just... travel stories. You have a set of characters, swept away into magical lands, travelling the lands, then partying in Oz and returning home. Gone is the "Quest to have our wish granted" of the first book, gone is the "national revolution mixed with a quest for a lost heir to the throne" of the second book, gone is the "let's save an imprisoned royal family" of the third book... Now it's just "Oh, looks like we randomly dropped into a fairy-land! Let's promenade a bit and then return home". An "Alice in Wonderland" type of non-plot, basically... but without the Alice in Wonderland charm.

Things are even sadder when you look at the fifth book of the series, "The Road to Oz".

At least with "Dorothy and the Wizard of Oz", there was a semblance of a mini-plot at the end, when everybody arrived in Oz. You had criminal charges and a trial, and competition-debates as to whether mundane or magical beings are better... But with "The Road to Oz"? You have literaly zero plot. The characters just get dragged from vision to vision, from land to land, and when they arrive in Oz, it is just to have a party, and then they literaly return home once it is over.

But the true desperation of Baum comes from this specific party... Because what Baum did in this novel was maybe the first "crossover event" of the history of American literature. All of the guests at the party are characters that never appeared before in any of the Oz books so far... They are characters straight out of Baum's other, non-Oz, children books! Characters from "The Magical Monarch of Mo", "Queen Zixi of Ix", "John Dough and the Cherub", and many other books you probably never heard about (and that the Oz readers at this point also never heard about!). Yet these characters were described in detail and given quite a space in the final act of the book...

This was because Baum was tired of Oz hogging all of the attention and money. He was so sad at seeing his other children works be forgotten and ignored by mass audience that he literaly decided to bring them into his Oz series in hope that it would interest his Ozian readers and encourage them to check out the other books he did. Yes you heard it right, this novel... as just an big ad for Baum's other books. That's how tired he was of Oz.

And, unfortunately for him, it did not work...

Cut to 1910. L. Frank Baum releases his sixth Oz book "The Emerald City of Oz"... that he also intends to be his final.

With "The Emerald City of Oz" we have the grand finale! Dorothy decides to leave Kansas and to settle permanently in Oz! She brings with her Aunt Em and Uncle Henry who are given a complete tour of the Land of Oz! Meanwhile the greatest and most terrible ennemies Oz ever faced gather for an invasion! And, in the final chapter, Glinda the Good Witch decides that enough is enough, Oz had enough troubles from the outside world: she casts a spell that will make Oz unreachable by anyone from the human world...

And thus, Baum with teary eyes says goodbye to his character, and encourages his audience to say farewell to Oz, as the gates of the Marvelous Land close forever...

THE END

...

Who are you kidding? No, not the end! Cursed, Baum was, CURSED! Despite him writing EVERYTHING needed for the grand, conclusive finale, despite him literaly writing "IT'S OVER GET OUT"... His other books didn't sell. His other series didn't start. And he kept being pressured by all sides to write more and more Oz books.

As such, by 1914... a seventh Oz book was made. Opening with Baum writing basically "Sigh... So you know how I told you no other Oz story could be made, because there's this magical barrier and I will never know what happens behind it anymore? Well... sigh... turns out they have radio, somehow? And so... double-sigh. And so I have broadcast in Oz, which means... you'll get more Oz books."

Next post: How we got a HELL LOT of more Oz books

[fernsnailz]

please i have to know the turbo tails lore

bitcoin i can assure you there’s no fucking way you’re ready for what’s about to unfold in this lore post

i’m willing to talk about the turbo tails lore because it gives me the chance to explain my favorite panel from ALL of archie sonic:

below is over 2,000 words worth of turbo tails lore. don't say i didn't warn you lol

TL;DR: a convoluted prophecy, a cryptic grandpa, and a single lost backpack make turbo tails one of the strangest things to come out of archie sonic

THE TURBO TAILS LORE.

note: any time i say “it’s actually really simple!” in this explanation please know i’m saying it with the thickest tone of sarcasm and bitterness known to man

we gotta start wayyyy back in early archie sonic - specifically, at the tails miniseries. these issues follow tails as he travels alone to a place called “downunda” (aka the archie sonic equivalent of australia), where he helps the freedom fighters there defeat some badniks terrorizing their home.

tails’ journey is sparked by his own desire to become a hero and the frustration he feels when the rest of the freedom fighters treat him like a little kid. in the first part of the miniseries, we see a comic that tails makes about him becoming a superhero called “captain super foX-MAN” (the writers did a lot of comic references in early archie sonic).

when tails gets to downunda, however, he becomes injured and finds himself in the bottom of a crater. here, he meets an oldass echidna named athair. this dude is one of knuckles’ (many) relatives, and hopefully the only one i ever have to talk about

athair’s main character trait is that he’s cryptic as hell. nothing he says makes any fucking sense, but is treated as all-important because… he says it is. he’s gonna be relatively important through all of this, so we gotta keep peepaw around.

athair takes tails further into the comet and introduces him to some guys called the ancient walkers. you might think, “hey, are those just dinosaurs wearing masks?” and. yeah that’s exactly what they are

the ancient walkers are pagan dinosaurs that discovered the chaos emeralds and developed some sort of immortality and futuristic vision because of them. or. something like that

so what the hell does this have to do with tails? well, the ancient walkers speak of a prophecy: a chosen one who will realign the chaos emeralds for a “higher purpose,” and cause something called the great harmony.

we won’t be getting to THAT for a WHILE tho

after his adventure in downunda, the next important thing to cover is sonic, tails, and knuckles’ battle against a dude called mammoth mogul.

for simplicity’s sake, the main things you need to know about mogul is that:

he’s immortal and really old

he wants to take over the universe

he has a chaos emerald embedded in his chest

he’s ALSO going to be very important

i don't like him he’s really boring

at this point, mammoth mogul has stolen a bunch of power from another villain called enerjak (LONG story), and has used it to transform into his own sort of “super” form called master mogul.

mogul really wants to fight the sonic gang so he can use the three of them to take over the world, and this is what his vision of that looks like LMAO

sonic and knuckles go into their super and hyper forms respectively, but even the two of them can’t take down mogul. however, a mysterious caped hero shows up to help - TURBO TAILS.

turbo tails's design is in reference to the superhero tails was drawing at the beginning of his miniseries, captain fox-man. this is turbo tails' first official appearance, and he’s able to fight off mogul where BOTH super sonic and hyper knuckles couldn’t. kid’s strong.

once they defeat mogul, they trap his ass in the master emerald. however, note this all takes place before the comic’s adaptation of sonic adventure 1. and if you know SA1, you know that stuff inside the master emerald gets OUT of it eventually. and oh boy you’ll never guess who gets out of the emerald when eggman eventually destroys it

however, we’re not worrying about that right now. in the next bit we’re covering, tails is at SCHOOL! however, he’s lost his backpack and needs to find it. oh no!!!

but before he can find it -

athair teleports into the school, says tails is needed for something (but doesn’t say what), then teleports tails away.

BRO DIDN’T EVEN FIND HIS BACKPACK HE HAS GEOMETRY CLASS IN FIVE MINUTES

this specific teleportation will be really important later.

athair takes tails to angel island where he wants tails to… fight knuckles. i guess. currently, knuckles is stuck in a state called “chaos knuckles,” where he’s green, confused all the time, and really strong. homeboy’s going through it

before tails can really do a lot, he gets knocked out by some falling rubble, and ghost athair does nothing to help. have i mentioned that athair kinda sucks?

athair then takes tails to our favorite guy - tails’ uncle, merlin prower! merlin is a wizard and that’s all you need to know right now. athair wants merlin to wake up tails so he can go and fight knuckles, but merlin is FUCKING PISSED!! and reasonably so.

imagine. some oldass dude teleports into your house, hands your unconscious nephew to you, and then goes “hey can you fix him? i need him to fight the hulk.” like?? HE’S BUT A MERE LAD!

merlin is kinda right - tails has been dragged into echidna family drama for no reason other than athair seems to be out of ideas. and since tails' parents are gone, merlin's nephew is the only family he seems to have left.

unfortunately, merlin can’t find a way to argue with athair’s “we gotta do it for reasons i can’t explain” argument, and brings back our boy turbo tails.

however, turbo tails gets his ass kicked.

(side note: from here on out, turbo tails' cape is red. i don't know why that's just how it is)

when merlin goes back to his unconscious nephew (again), athair searches turbo tails’ mind to figure out why he got his ass kicked so bad. and the explanation is actually really simple!

this turbo tails is actually a duplicate of tails and the original tails is just. somewhere we don’t know.

so. yeah what the fuck

neither of them know how tails was duplicated or where this one came from. athair’s solution to this is just “let’s not tell anybody.” great job peepaw you really solved that one

after this, tails 2 just kinda keeps living his life without knowing he’s a duplicate of the original. however, he starts having nightmares about a weird, mysterious cave. when he and sonic eventually find this cave, they find the original turbo tails, trapped in a stasis.

and then, guess who shows up in the cave!! oh boy it’s everyone’s favorite character mammoth fucking mogul!!!!!

mogul explains the tails duplicate thing, and it’s actually really simple!

you know that one time athair teleported into tails’ school and kidnapped him while he was trying to find his backpack? yeah, so mogul basically kidnapped tails while he was being teleported, replaced him with a duplicate he created that was identical to the real tails, then placed the real turbo tails into stasis so he could harvest his power, thus regaining his original power before he was trapped in the master emerald.

do you see why i was dreading talking about turbo tails?

sonic fights mogul off, but tails 2 is kinda going through it. i don’t know how, but mogul made a duplicate that was near PERFECT, and tails 2 still has all of the original tails’ memories, emotions, and bonds. so when tails 2 disappears… it’s strangely tragic?

and then they just kinda move on lol

the original tails is released and returns to living his life, but unfortunately his life is kinda not so great at the moment. he just learned that his parents are alive on an alien planet (read THIS lore dump for more context), he’s part of this weird confusing prophecy he doesn’t understand, and he’s frustrated that he isn’t allowed to know about this great prophecy that directly affects HIS life.

and when tails confronts peepaw athair about this, athair does this.

good riddance

in the next issue, sonic and tails are visited by an alternate universe version of sonic called zonic, who serves as a sorta time cop that watches over the multiverse to make sure no one is messing with the space time continuum.

that’s obviously a bit to unpack, so here’s the main stuff you need to know:

the multiverse exists and is very important in archie sonic

all of the alternate universes and dimensions are called “zones”

the sonic and tails of the main story are called the “prime” versions, basically meaning they’re the true canon of the entire multiverse.

i don’t want to explain the existence of zonic rn. just know that he stands on things sideways

zonic is freaking out a little bit because someone’s in the process of destroying the entire multiverse, but he can’t figure out who. however, he heard about this weird “chosen one” prophecy thing, and he thinks that tails might be able to help.

while with zonic, tails and prime sonic realize that the person destroying the universe is our favorite guy mammoth fucking mogul, who collected enough power from the turbo tails he had in stasis and chaos knuckles (who he fought at a different time) to become all powerful enough to destroy the universe. plus, weird spacetime shenanigans are happening because knuckles died and was then resurrected (don’t ask), which kinda threw off the balance of the multiverse.

the prime bros and zonic are starting to run out of time, but zonic has a plan (sorta). see, he hoped that tails could help somehow, but he didn’t know WHICH tails across the multiverse would be the chosen one.

so he recruited ALL of them.

tails, knowing that he’s the chosen one and all that jazz, tries to fight the universe destroying god form mammoth mogul alone. this obviously does not work, so the rest of the tails and sonic come to his aid.

however, when sonic is injured in the fight, tails is convinced that he died. in his anger, he’s able to fulfill his destiny and converge with every single version of himself across the multiverse, becoming…

TITAN TAILS.

"YOU WILL NOT" is one of my favorite reaction images

titan tails might be one of the most powerful characters in all of sonic canon, as he’s able to defeat a universe-destroying mammoth mogul in a matter of seconds.

me when my energies are pulled away lol

with mammoth mogul defeated (again), titan tails uses his power to return the world back to the status quo and imprison mogul in yet another emerald.

so that’s the end of the prophecy, right? that’s all the chosen one jazz, and titan tails was a result of the great harmony?

well, no.

if you look back at that prophecy from the original tails miniseries, it never mentions anything about the multiverse. instead, it only mentions the chaos emeralds realigning for a higher purpose, brought about by the chosen one. so what’s all that about?

this brings us back to tommy turtle.

after the events of titan tails, an eggman AI named A.D.A.M. learns of the chosen one prophecy and the great harmony of chaos emeralds. A.D.A.M. has been working behind the scenes of a LOT of various plots as a figure named Anonymous, where he was working on a greater master plan to become an all powerful being. and man, that chosen one prophecy that speaks of realigning EVERY chaos emerald in the universe? that sounds promising.

i talked about A.D.A.M.’s plan a little more in my tommy turtle lore dump, but the basics of it is that he kidnaps both shadow and tails in order to use their super forms to cause the great harmony mentioned in the prophecy. through using super shadow’s chaos control, he can open up doorways through spacetime to summon them all. however, the emeralds won’t arrive unless he has the chosen one - turbo tails.

using both of them, A.D.A.M. summons every emerald in the universe, of which there are a LOT. in archie sonic, the chaos emerald lore is that each planet has a bunch of chaos emeralds, but only of one color. for example, the emeralds on mobius (sonic’s world) are all green, while the rest of the colors all originate from different alien planets.

so, with every emerald summoned, thus begins the great harmony and the end of the prophecy from the classic tails miniseries.

once super shadow and turbo tails are freed, they work together to finally complete the prophecy: realigning all of the chaos emeralds by placing them in the zone of silence, which is kinda like the distortion world of sonic lore. basically, they’re putting them in storage and out of reach because the writers didn't want to deal with a bajillion chaos emeralds anymore.

after the great harmony, the archie sonic chaos emeralds return to a form that are similar to that of the games - there are only seven, one of each color. thus ends the prophecy, the chosen one’s purpose, and the turbo tails lore.

and that's it! turbo tails never shows up in archie sonic again, and will likely never appear in any piece of sonic canon ever again. and really, there’s only one question i have after revisiting all of this again.

where the FUCK is tails’ backpack??????

[harrisonarchive]

George and Pattie during their Barbados honeymoon, February 1966. Pictured: slides listed for sale on eBay in 2017:

“[The seller] bought these slides back in 1985 after staging The Scottish Beatles Fair in Perth in 1986. [...] The photographer and location are both unknown. The person [the seller] bought them from told the story that he’d been a painter and decorator who had done some work for George. On moving a piece of furniture away from a wall, he discovered the slides on the floor. He handed them to George but was told to keep them or bin them. George by that time was no longer married to Patti[e]. No other information is available.” [Originally posted in September 2017, when this blog was still named thateventuality.]

* * *

“He was just eternally sweet to everybody. He was very easy to be with. He was very soft and gentle.” - Pattie Boyd, interviewed in 2007, The Mammoth Book of The Beatles

“I think probably the memory that will always remain with me is when he came to see me not long before he passed away. And he came over to my cottage and wanted to see the garden and wanted to see my darkroom because I’d been doing some printing, and, um, he wanted to see the flowers. And he said - he saw some flowers, tiny little flowers that were growing in a crack in the pavement, and the wind was blowing them. He referred to them as ‘shivering flowers,’ and I thought, ‘Oh God, that’s so sweet.’ He just had a wonderful view, and he used such a different language to describe what he was feeling or thinking. And, you know, he brought me a little gift, a little, um, something for my studio, a little Krishna. And, uh, you know, he was just always generous and kind and sweet and always had a good sense of humor.” - Pattie Boyd on how she best remembers George Harrison, Every Little Thing With Ken Michaels, February 3, 2019 (x)

[getoutofmytardis]

i’ve been drawing little earthy creatures recently and gomens fits the vibe very nicely so here they are:)

also my silly little headcanons for Yatted Aziraphale (TM):

saw crowley’s lil snek tattoo in the beginning and fell in love (with both crowley and tattoos)

was fascinated when he discovered the first humans tattooing! went round collecting ones from all of the first civilisations doing it

he’s been tattooed with mammoth bone, needle and thread, bamboo; every time a new method was created he’d go check it out!

thought the invention of the tattoo machine was crazy! whatever will they think of next! though he still prefers hand poke methods bc nostalgia and a soft boi deserves soft tatos

still goes to get tattooed when he finds a new artist he loves (miracles a blank area of skin on these occasions)

bit like crowley’s snake az’s tats can move around when they want to (but they have their favourite places to sit) and he can switch them out and change them up when and how he wants to, some days there might not be any some days he is mostly ink

he absolutely has At Least One matching tattoo with crowley

and also has lots of crowley themed tattoos:)

[bizaar]

Cruel Summer - Part 6

First - Previous - Next

pairings: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

summary: After breaking up, you and Eddie do your best to soldier on with your lives, but you slowly begin to discover that there is a stronger line of connection keeping you together than just history…

word count: 15k (YIKES)

warnings: swearing, mentions/descriptions of child/spousal abuse, death, funerals, grief, ANGST, panic attacks, fluff, allusions to sex and smuttiness towards the end of the chapter

A.N.: Babysitter!reader part six is here! This one is a MAMMOTH you guys I was gonna cut it down but you all gave me some pretty positive feedback about long chapters so... here you go :) Wayne Munson continues to be the best man in Hawkins, meanwhile, Eddie's father is the literal worst -- Eddie has TRAUMA

I'm gonna be sad about the Munsons for the rest of my life

Hellfire met and played at the Munson trailer for the better part of a month before the drama room finally became available again. Eddie could not have been more relieved if Publisher’s Clearing House had shown up on his doorstep with a million-dollar check. It was only three sessions, considering the club only officially met on Fridays, but each and every one of them had been punctuated by a special kind of weirdness that Eddie could not stomach another second of.

He’s never been so happy to be back on school grounds.

First and foremost, Gareth had been correct. Wayne was very clear that he didn’t want them playing D&D in the trailer anymore, not after a particularly rowdy session had seen Jeff and Adam engaging in a wrestling match that ended with them falling over and absolutely decimating an antique coffee table that had belonged to Eddie’s grandmother.

Eddie damn near pulled his hair out over it, considering it was arguably the nicest piece of furniture they owned and something Wayne had been very careful about preserving, scratches and water rings and all. The moment only got worse from there, as before Eddie could even finish saying “oh shit—you guys, my uncle is gonna kill me!”, there was Wayne, stepping in through the door mere seconds after the table collapsed … well, exploded was probably the better word to describe what had happened to it when Jeff and Adam came crashing down with all their collective weight like they thought they were a pair of pro-wrestlers or something.

Pair of assholes, more like.

It would have been hilarious if it had been any other piece of furniture in any other house, but then that was just Eddie’s luck, wasn’t it? That it would be the single piece of furniture they owned that his uncle was precious about.

Eddie never met her, considering his father was all but disowned by everyone but Wayne by the time he was born, but he knew well enough that his uncle was a mama’s boy through and through, and Grandma Munson was revered in that household, even in death. What few remaining heirlooms of hers there were that hadn’t been pawned or lost to time were tantamount to sacred, so needless to say, Eddie was in deep shit.

Wayne stood surveying the scene as the smoke cleared – dice, pages, and character maquettes scattered to the wind, sweaty teen boys still wrapped in the vice of their wrassling, laying amidst the rubble of Munson family heirlooms – and he miraculously did not kill his nephew. He did, however, breathe out hard through his nose and go right back out to chain smoke and try to calm down.

Wayne didn’t get mad easily, his temper was a slow-burning fuse in contrast to his volatile younger brother’s, but still, it made Eddie panicky. Being in trouble with Wayne was an exercise in “I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed,” and arguably worse than any insult or abuse his father could have hurled at him in the same situation. Eddie would have given blood to avoid finding himself in the line of those big, sad eyes as he rushed everyone out and did his best to clean up and piece the table back together. The effort was in vain, there was no saving the table and no amount of apologies could save Eddie from the long tired sigh of disappointment Wayne heaved when he finally came back inside.

Wayne didn’t have many hard rules – respect the space, don’t do anything too stupid while he’s gone, do your damn dishes – but that night he made a new one. No more D&D in the trailer. Eddie promised, though more importantly, they shook on it, which was binding among Munson men. Of course, the nasty little problem there was that Eddie had also sworn to himself that he would never set foot in Benny’s diner ever again, not even if his life depended on it … not even if he thought he was going to find you there.

He honestly didn’t think he could physically make himself go through that door, and he was panicking about it, because how was he supposed to explain that to anyone?

How to explain that even after ten years, the diner was still so stifling with the lingering atmosphere of his mother’s presence that he couldn’t breathe? Too many memories of days after school spent waiting while she moved back and forth behind the counter, hours and hours sitting in the squishy pleather booths doing his homework (when he still did his homework) or perched on his knees on the rickety stools and spinning around and around and around until he couldn’t see straight. Watching the clock and counting the minutes left in her shift, walking home hand in hand, telling her about his day, and enjoying a brief interval of peace before his father got home.

Enough time has passed that those days are fuzzy now, bright little jewels of memory that have turned to sepia-toned shards of glass embedded in his mind. They are still painful enough to keep Eddie away from the diner permanently. How is he supposed to explain that he’s afraid he’ll taint what is left of those memories if he returns as he is now, so far removed from the version of himself that his mother knew? The best version of himself.

He can’t do it. He won’t.

So he swallows his pride and calls Wayne at the plant and begs him – literally begs – to let Hellfire play in the trailer. He doesn’t know precisely what it is that wins his uncle over, maybe he’d blown the whole coffee table thing out of proportion in his mind and Wayne wasn’t actually that upset about it (he was) or maybe it is just because he just thinks Eddie really needs a win after the last few months, with you and what happened that afternoon at Rick’s and not graduating again (he really hopes it isn’t that, despite how stridently true it is) — really what is the harm in letting them play a little D&D? Especially after Eddie’s long, drawn-out spiel about how he swears they will be on their best behavior and they won’t get too rowdy or make a mess and he’ll make sure everyone uses coasters if he wants them to, and Wayne listens to his nephew talk a mile a minute before finally cutting him off mid-stream — because they aren’t the type of people who worry about things like coasters — and he relents.

“Take a breath, Bud, it’s alright. You can bring your friends over.”

And Eddie practically sobs with relief, which is embarrassing, but it had been a very tense few hours fighting off panic attacks and wrestling with the very real thought of canceling Hellfire entirely just to try and avoid ever having to set foot in that diner again.

Somehow he gets the sense that Wayne knows all this because he’s always had that weird sort of omniscience that parents have when it comes to their kids (good parents, at least) even though Wayne is not his dad and Eddie is not his son – Wayne always seems to know exactly what’s wrong with him at any given moment and it would be maddeningly frustrating if Eddie didn’t rely upon it completely.

The Munsons have never been good at talking about their feelings, and Eddie feels so much all the time.

He thanks Wayne profusely and swears he’s going to make it up to him.

“Just don’t let the big guy break any more furniture.” Wayne huffs down the line, wrenching a watery laugh from somewhere deep inside Eddie.

He would have said something smart about how the only thing that’s going to get broken is Jeff’s neck if he doesn’t behave himself, but he’s already too far gone in his memories as he hangs up and switches over to autopilot to go about getting the place ready for guests…

It was late summer, 1977, and Eddie sat on the steps of Wayne’s trailer, back when it was just that, before it was home— sulking because she was leaving him there again.

It wasn’t her fault, and he didn’t blame her, because he knew she didn’t have any other choice.

Still, he did not want her to go.

His father had gotten himself arrested again, for dealing or boosting a car or any number of his other nefarious pastimes, and his mother was preparing to go through the long, arduous process of bailing him out. That meant Eddie would be spending the night on the couch at Uncle Wayne’s, and while those nights were never bad — it was all television and take out and the novelty of being treated like an adult without being scandalized in the process, like when he was nine and his father took him out to a strip club on the interstate (it was the angriest Eddie had ever seen his mother – she’d blown a gasket) – it was always just the circumstances that sent him to Wayne’s that Eddie hated.

His mother sat crouched in front of him on the stairs and pinched and poked and tried to make him smile. She always teased just a bit too much when things were bad, always told him he was too young to be so serious.

He pouted and told her that she ought to just leave his old man there to rot, not for the first time (though unknowingly the last). She’d wrinkled her nose and agreed with him, pulling him forward by his elbows to wrap her arms around him and blow a raspberry into his cheek. He would have told her he was too old to be treated like that, but in spite of himself, he snorted with laughter and let his mother kiss the offended flesh before standing to talk to Wayne.

Eddie felt the brief warmth of humor give way to anxiety tugging at his heart and covered his ears – he didn’t want to hear her say anything too serious. Serious on Eddie’s mother was always too close to sad, and he hated when she was sad (too many mornings sitting and watching her try to mask last night’s bruises with caked on cover-up, biting back tears and doing her best to smile for him.)

Her voice was hushed and thick with emotion as she spoke.

“I’ll be back when I can, but…” he heard her suck in a sharp breath, “I don’t know, Wayne, it just — it took so long the last time –”

Wayne cut her off, patting her on the shoulder and speaking in a soft, reassuring voice.

“I know, Darlin’. You take as long as you need,” and then he made a point to perk up, raise his voice to try and make himself sound chipper, for Eddie’s sake – chipper is an emotion that has never worked on Wayne. “We’re gonna be just fine. It’s gonna be fun. Right, Bud?”

He nudged Eddie gently with the toe of his boot, but the only response he could muster was a dejected sigh, propping his head up with his fists, elbows perched on skinned knees.

He reached down to ruffle his hair and Eddie jerked moodily out of his touch and buried his face in his knees as his mother tut-tutted him.

“Hair’s gettin’ real long…” Wayne mused, sucking his teeth, “Maybe we’ll give you a trim while your mama’s gone,”

The thought of it set Eddie’s heart beating at a pace – his father was always trying to cut his hair, spitting hateful slurs and insults about the “kind of men kept their hair long” – thankfully, his mother spoke up.

“Oh, no, don’t.” She said quickly, reaching down and running her fingers fondly through Eddie's curls, “We like it long, right, Baby?”

He didn’t answer, but he could feel her looking at him, waiting patiently. A sprig of defiance wormed its way up through his midsection, and Eddie decided he would stay quiet for the rest of his life if he had to.

His mother just sighed – she didn’t have time for a tantrum, the one his father was sure to throw was arguably worse than the one Eddie was kicking up. She had to go, so she turned on her heel and started down the gravel drive.

“I’ll be back soon. Love you, Teddy Bear!” She called, waving over her shoulder— her massive collection of keychains jangled loudly as Eddie peeked up from his knees to watch her make her way back to the car.

The Munsons were all packrats in their own way – his mother collected keychains and magnets, Wayne collected novelty mugs and baseball caps, and his father collected felonies and arrests… Eddie supposes now that he collects regrets. He wishes he’d done more to commit her to memory, he wishes he’d done something to make her stay…

“I love you!” She said again, louder, stretching the phrase lyrically and trying to bait him.

He wired his jaw shut – maybe if he didn’t say it back she’d stay until he did. Maybe he’d never say it again and she’d never leave him.

Still, a sudden spike of anxiety flared in his chest as something screamed at him to call out to her, make her turn around and look at him one more time. Just in case.

Just in case what? Just in case you never see her again.

“Don’t let him drive!” Eddie shouted at his mother’s back, pushing up to stand on the steps like if somehow he were a little taller it would help drive the message home.

Don’t go. Don’t go. Please, don’t go.

She stopped as she pulled the driver’s side door open and smiled – a wry, crooked thing that indented her cheeks with dimples.

“I never do.”

She winked, and slipped in behind the wheel and out of his life because no matter what she assured him, she didn’t ultimately have a say in who drove home that night, no matter what his father had taken or how fucked up he was.

He drove. They crashed. She died.

The funeral was open casket, and Eddie refused to move from his seat. He didn’t want to see her, not like that – he wanted her here, smiling and laughing and teasing too much and collecting stupid novelty keychains and breathing, not cold in the fucking coffin his father had put her in.

The son of a bitch had tried to drag him up there to “pay his respects”. He seized him by the scruff and told him not to be a pussy, but his arm was in a sling from the accident and he couldn’t get a good enough grip on Eddie to hold him to the spot when Wayne stepped in and pulled his brother aside for an extremely tense, hushed conversation.

The repast had been at Benny’s because she’d worked there long enough that the staff was like family and their house was too small to host. His father somehow managed to get himself completely blackout drunk, despite the lack of any booze being served, and made a huge scene – like he always did, and Eddie sat there trying to endure the violence of his hatred for the man.

Why couldn’t he have just let her drive? Why did it have to be her? Why hadn’t she been wearing her seatbelt? Why why why…

His grief was too big, he didn’t know what to do with it or where to put it, and it made Eddie so angry. Angrier than he had ever been in his life. It made him brave— or perhaps vitriolic— and when his father shouted and slurred and swatted at him like he always did, Eddie grit his teeth and spat the venom right back.

For all the times he’d sat helpless, for all the times she’d sent him to run and hide, he finally stood up.

He paid for it, of course, with a hard crack to the face that knocked him right back down, and before his brain could stop rattling around his skull enough to catch up to his body, Eddie hit one of the first of many hard limits he would pass with the old man over the next few years.

With a bloodied, broken nose, he bolted from the diner and ran all the way out to the interstate. He didn’t know where he was going, only that he meant to get as far away as humanly possible, from his father, from Hawkins, from his grief and the terrible life he knew he surely faced without his mother to act as a buffer. Even at eleven years old, he knew he didn’t have a chance if he stayed.

This town would kill him if he stayed.

The first and only car to pull up beside him had been a rusty pickup – it was Wayne, because of course it was, and he rolled alongside Eddie in the truck at a glacial pace on the shoulder of the wrong side of the road for the better part of twenty-five minutes as he tried to talk his nephew down.

Eddie continued to walk, wiping blood and tears on the sleeve of his suit jacket and refusing to be coaxed into the cab until he’d learned that the cops had picked his father up and he wouldn’t have to go home that night. When Eddie finally relented and climbed up into the passenger seat, he saw that Wayne’s knuckles were cracked, swollen, and bleeding on the steering wheel.

He didn’t have to ask to know what had happened – he hoped his father hadn’t been too drunk to feel every second of the beating Wayne had given him — Eddie hoped it hurt as bad as it did when Wayne set his broken nose later that night, sitting perched on the edge of the sink, gritting his teeth and biting back tears.

It would be another two and a half years of days like that before the old man would finally go to prison.

With Wayne’s blessing, Hellfire resumed at the Munson trailer, and by 8:30 that Friday in April, everyone was piled into the little living room, huddled around the replacement, decidedly less nice coffee table, and Eddie could finally breathe again.

Except that Jeff was fully committing to the bit of being bizarrely hostile, in his own completely non-threatening way. Eddie thought it was exceedingly strange – and more than a little rude considering he would have been meek as a mouse if he had found himself allowed back into a home where he’d so unceremoniously destroyed a treasured piece of antique furniture, but he couldn’t really kick up the gusto to be angry about it, because Jeff was being hostile no matter where they were.

“Hey, what the fuck is Jeff’s problem?” He’d asked Gareth one day, sitting huddled over his notebook in the back of second-period English Lit while Mrs. Faulkner droned on about some old dead guy.

Proust or some shit.

Gareth had merely shrugged his flannel-clad shoulders in feigned ignorance and done his best to look innocent as the color drained from his face and his eyes went wide. Of course, that reaction suggested he knew exactly what Jeff’s problem was, but the old harpy had screeched a warning at them about cross chatter and threatened detention from the blackboard before Eddie could press him further on it.

The issue with doing everything with the same group of people is that when you have a problem with one of them, you have to see them everywhere you go. Jeff is a member of the Hellfire Club as well as Corroded Coffin, so Eddie has to deal with his snarky, backhanded remarks pretty much wherever he goes.

It is, at best, mildly annoying and at worst, deeply confusing.

Eddie can’t wrap his head around the shift in his attitude, except that once, when you were still very new to each other — the first time he’d ever brought you to hang out with the guys as his officially official girlfriend, in fact — Jeff had pulled him aside at the end of the night and drunkenly warned Eddie that if he ever hurt you, he would kill him.

It had been an intense and slightly off-putting way to end what had been a generally pleasant evening, but Eddie had just chalked that up to Jeff being… well, Jeff. Poor social skills and all too easily impressed by nice girls who showed him even the slightest bit of kindness or attention.

You’d laughed about it on the car ride home, not unkindly, though. You thought his crush on you was sweet, like the crush the kid you babysat had on you. And then you’d sat in the car eating ice cream and discussing life’s most important questions; who would win in a fight – Jeff or Eddie...

Eddie had just been happy to get to share you with his friends and integrate you into the group without it being weird so that he didn’t have to parcel out his time between the band, D&D, and you.

He knows you would have won out over his friends every time, though he’s not sure they could have held it against you.

He used to love how much they loved you until he told everyone about the breakup.

He’d said it was mutual, and maybe he’d let them believe that it had been more your idea than his — he doesn’t know why, maybe he’d thought it would be easier to stomach if he could manage to be pissed at you, but he couldn’t muster it and it didn’t make him feel any better to say it.

Despite everything, Eddie can’t help but shake the feeling that all of his friends have taken your side. Somehow they know he hurt you, and he supposes if Jeff had meant he was going to annoy him to death it’s working marvelously.

And then there’s Dustin.

Dustin Henderson, who spends all his time talking about his babysitter and hangs out with that pretentious douche Steve Harrington when he isn’t following Eddie around like a lovesick puppy.

He can’t deny he has a soft spot for the kid, even if he is annoying as hell, and Eddie does feel bad about biting his head off over the whole situation with the diner. He’d thought it was actually very cool that the kid even tried to find them an alternate place to play, and he’d been sincere in his apology at the campus phone, but he also knows he’d gone a little overboard in the teasing, especially with that bizarre conversation with Dustin’s babysitter that followed.

It hadn’t been Eddie’s fault, not entirely.

He’d already been feeling too manic, his senses dialed up to eleven at the thought of having to go back to Benny’s, but Dustin was also just entirely too easy to tease. He was, perhaps, just a tad too flirtatious with the babysitter on purpose, just to ruffle Dustin’s feathers — Eddie is big enough to admit that that was a fuck up on his part.

The connection over the payphone had not been the greatest, just as much static as voice, and somehow he’d fooled himself into thinking the girl on the other end of the phone sounded a lot like you. So much like you that if he tries very hard, he can convince himself that it had been you on the phone that day. It wasn’t, he knows this, but in his heart of hearts?

The teasing, the cadence of her speech, the specific little phrases she used, her laugh? Christ – the way she’d laughed had been enough to make Eddie weak at the knees because he swears to God, Tiamat, Ozzy Osborne, whoever is out there listening, that it had been you laughing on the other end of that phone call — but then she’d hung up on him, and Eddie knew he’d been deluding himself, projecting you into some random girl he’d probably scandalized.

He imagines some snotty cheerleader on the other line, lying on her bed, twisting her perfectly manicured fingers in the phone cord, popping bubble gum, and kicking her feet —painting the picture of a pretty little fantasy until she realizes who she was talking to, until he tells her his name. Then he pictures her sneering and slamming the phone into the box with a harsh grunt of disgust.

She probably felt like she needed to take a shower after that, to wash the freak off of her.

Eddie still can’t believe how badly he’d let his feelings get hurt over it, all because he’d let himself pretend he was talking to you.

Then there was the way Dustin and Wayne acted towards each during that second Friday playing at the trailer. It was a rare day off, and it had seen his uncle rolling up unexpectedly and coming through the door halfway through their session.

Everyone instantly shut up and mumbled their own overly formal, awkward greetings as Wayne surveyed the group. He greeted the boys he knew, regarded the ones he didn’t with a curt nod as Eddie introduced them – Mike and Lucas, and then he clapped eyes on Dustin, and he got stuck. He stared hard and set his jaw, and Eddie could practically see the gears turning in his uncle’s head as he tried to work something out.

It would have made him nervous if he hadn’t noticed the way Dustin was staring right back at him with the same intensity. Like they recognized each other but they didn’t precisely know where from.

Weird.

And then the moment passed, like fixing a skipping record.

“Y’all been playing long?” Wayne hummed, setting his wallet and keys down on the little dining table shoved against the opposite wall.

His addressing Eddie brought the game to a screeching halt and everyone held their breath and waited to see what he would say.

“Few hours, yeah.” he replied cautiously, “Why?”

There was a tiny nagging voice in the back of his mind that warned him they were about to get kicked out and they would have to finish their session with flashlights in the back of his van, but Wayne just shook his head, like it didn’t matter why he’d asked.

He fished his cigarettes from his pocket and patted himself down in search of his lighter, coming up empty.

“You got a light?”

Eddie tossed him his lighter— he caught it effortlessly.

“Well, don’t stop on my account, gentlemen.” He said, pushing a cigarette up to his lips and going right back outside.

The door clicked shut and a collective sigh passed over the room as everyone turned back to the game board and began chattering amongst themselves.

“You think he’s still pissed about the table?” Adam asked sheepishly.

Jeff and Gareth both began to voice their dissent – no, no way that was so long ago — and Eddie had to grit his teeth to stop himself from saying anything too mean about it because it may have been long ago to them but he still hadn’t heard the end of it.

“Of course, he’s still pissed – you guys, shut up about the table already,” Eddie huffed, flipping through the beat-up Player’s Handbook balanced precariously on his knee.

Of course, that only spurred them on to talk more about it. And when Mike piped up, asking “what table” Gareth was all too happy to launch into the story, much to Eddie’s annoyance as everyone lost interest in the game and began laughing and talking.

He propped his chin up on his hand and heaved a dejected sigh, continuing to flip through the book and waiting for them to be done. He just wanted to play D&D, was that too much to ask?

And then he could feel eyes on him. He glanced up to find Dustin staring at him expectantly from where he sat on the floor like he was waiting for the answer to a question he hadn’t asked yet.

Eddie waited. Dustin waited, and for a long moment, they both just sat, staring, waiting for the other to speak.

“What?” Eddie finally prompted.

Dustin began slowly.

“So…” He said, giving him a quizzical look and shuffling just a little bit closer to where Eddie sat with his knees up in the lazy boy. “How do you know that Wayne guy?”

Eddie wouldn’t say that the question floored him, but he didn’t quite know how to respond. He supposed he could have just answered the question – he’s my uncle – but he was much too caught on the other end of it.

“How do I–? How do you know Wayne, Dustin?” Eddie snapped, well aware that he was biting the kid’s head off over nothing again. “Don’t ask me stupid questions like that.”

He could practically hear you in the back of his mind, reminding him that there were no stupid questions, but Eddie stridently disagreed. That was a very stupid question.

Dustin didn’t have a response. He looked more put out than dejected as he threw up his hands and shook his head, but someone kicked up with a concern about snacks or drinks or something variably more important to a group of teen boys before Eddie could chase the thought any further.

It was another twenty-five minutes of trying to corral the group before they finally resumed their session and when Wayne finally came back in, Eddie spent the rest of the night trying not to get distracted by the way he and Dustin sat glancing at each other as he did his best not to lose his flow.

Wayne didn’t have much to say about it later on.

“Do you and Dustin know each other or something?” Eddie asked after everyone had gone, gathering the last of the books and character sheets, and dice.

Wayne sank heavily into his chair — the lazy boy that had served as a poor substitute for Eddie’s throne — with a sigh and beer. He scratched his stubbly chin and furrowed his brow like he had no idea what his nephew was talking about.

“Who?”

Eddie grit his teeth to keep himself from snapping.

“Dustin— the kid with the hat? Braces?”

“Oh.” Wayne said.

He hummed deep in the hollow of his throat, like he was considering whether or not to tell Eddie something, then he picked up the remote and flicked on the tv.

“Nope.”

That was the end of the conversation, no matter how long Eddie stood there in the living room, waiting for his uncle to elaborate. He didn’t, and Eddie finally had to just turn and stalk back to his room with an agitated sigh.

He can’t help but feel that there is a huge piece of the puzzle missing there, one he isn’t sure has anything to do with all the weirdness that has punctuated his days since school started. He tells himself he doesn’t care, so why does he suddenly feel like there is some kind of big conspiracy between everyone he knows going on behind his back? He racks his brain for what the possible connection could be and comes up empty.

He is so goddamn relieved when they finally get back to playing in the drama room.

+++

The counselor’s office looks the same as it always does, all of Ms. Kim’s pictures, degrees, and personal items are still where they were when Eddie was last here, same time last year.

Christ, has it been a year already?

He knows he’s fidgeting more than usual, bouncing his knee and digging his nails into the arm of the chair as he waits for the guidance counselor to speak.

So far she’s just sitting there, staring at him and it's making him very nervous.

The last time he’d been pulled out of class to see Ms. Kim, she’d told him he wasn’t graduating again… and graduation is only a month away now. He’d be lying if he said his stomach wasn’t in knots.

She is smiling sweetly at him from across her desk, hands clasped neatly in front of her and Eddie is still frantically bouncing his knee.

“How are you doing, Eddie?” She finally asks, tilting her head thoughtfully and leaning forward ever so slightly.

He resists the urge to ask her to just cut to the chase. He would much prefer to rip the band-aid off and get it over with – none of this beating around the bush with mindless pleasantries.

Still, his mother had done her best to raise him right, in spite of it all, and he would be damned if he didn’t at least try to be civil with Ms. Kim. She’s never been anything but kind to him, which is not something he can say about most of his teachers.

“Okay, I guess,” he mumbles.

Her face pinches into a mask of concern.

“I heard you’ve been having a bit of a rough year.”

Eddie clears his throat to cover the bitter snort of laughter that tears itself out of him.

“Yeah well, nothing ever really changes around here, does it?” He says, smirking and shifting uncomfortably in his seat, “Same shit different day – sorry.”

The silence that blooms between them is more than a little bit awkward. He hadn't meant to swear.

Ms. Kim straightens the stack of papers set out on the desk in front of her and Eddie’s gaze flicks down to try and discreetly see what they are – he can only make out his name.

“So, I've got your transcripts here,” She begins, “And I wanted to talk to you about your future at Hawkins High School…”

Eddie’s heart drops into his stomach – he suddenly feels like he’s going to be sick.

“Oh come on, my grades can’t be that bad…” He chuckles. It is a humorless sound.

He is going to be devastated if she tells him he’s not going to graduate again. He doesn’t think he can stand another year of this…

He half expects her to give him a piteous look, scrunch her features and turn her eyebrows up in apology, but instead, they jump up towards her hairline and she shakes her head.

“No, actually, quite the opposite. Your grades are…” she trails off, shrugs, “Well, I’m not going to lie to you, they’re still pretty low, but considering what they were this time last year?” and then her lips quirk up into a big smile, “I think you might be on track to graduate next month.”

Eddie would have been less shocked if she’d pulled a gun on him. He's fully aware of how his mouth has fallen open as he stares at her.

“Shut the fuck up!” He gasps, and then, “Sorry – I’m so sorry – I just… y-you’re serious?”

"I'm serious."

"You're not just bullshitting me, right?" Goddammit, Munson, language, "Ah– sh-shoot – sorry."

Despite his language, Ms. Kim is still smiling and nodding – and Eddie doesn’t think she would lie to him about this. Educational staff wasn’t allowed to pull practical jokes, were they? Prank the guy with the worst grades in school by telling him he was graduating? That would be a major conflict of interest, probably illegal even, which means she’s not kidding, and he’s really – finally – going to graduate if he can keep his shit together.

Holy shit.

“I know it’s a little premature to say, but congratulations.” Ms. Kim says.

Eddie almost doesn’t hear her.

He feels like he’s going to burst, though for the first time in a long time it’s from happiness and not some kind of devastating attempt to hold himself together. Eddie only realizes how broadly he is smiling as his hands come up to clasp either side of his face. Shock is the only word he can think to describe what he feels, elation maybe? Dumbfoundedness?? Mostly, he can’t believe his stupid luck.

No, not luck, hard fucking work is more like, he’s been kicking his own ass all year and it’s finally paying off. He suddenly can’t wait to tell someone, everyone, get up on a table and shout it at the denizens of this wretched place – take a good last look, everybody, Eddie Munson is finally getting out of here.

“That being said–”

God dammit.

“–you’ve got one grade that you need to pull up. Mrs. O’Donnell’s class–”

Eddie's heart sinks a little. He's not sure any one of his teachers hates him more than Mrs. O'Donnell does. She would fail him just to spite him if it didn't mean she would have to endure another year of him in her class.

“– you’re close though, D is a passing grade. I should mention, however, that if you don’t manage it–”

“Oh, Christ – don’t say that!”

Eddie’s not superstitious, but he can’t help but jump forward and wrap his knuckles sharply on her desktop with both hands. It’s made of sheet metal – shit.

Is it bad luck to knock on wood when it’s not made of wood? He doesn’t know.

You would have known because you always had little bits of random information for him like that.

You were a purveyor of secrets and forbidden knowledge – you were Lady Midnight.

God, he wishes he could tell you the news, wrap you up in his arms and spin you around and around until he can't stand up straight.

Ms. Kim carries on about how there’s no shame in getting his GED and how best to stay on track for graduation, but Eddie isn’t listening anymore.

He’s too busy picturing the alternate universe where you still lived in Hawkins. Maybe you had a place together, one of the tiny apartments above or behind or in the basement of one of the buildings on Cherry Street.

He imagines he’d go straight from Ms. Kim’s office to find you at work, wherever that was – maybe you worked at Family Video with that asshole Keith and he’d find you behind the counter, or maybe you had some office job that he’d pick you up from every night at five.

He imagines the way your face would brighten when he told you — Baby, you won’t believe it, I’m finally fucking graduating! — your eyes would go wide and you’d scream and throw your arms around him and jump up and down. Everyone would stare because everyone always stared at the both of you, but you wouldn’t care because Eddie was graduating.

You’d be so excited that he would have to pry you off of him, and then you'd take him by the hand and insist you go out to celebrate immediately.

“Let’s go to Enzo’s and get drunk and eat our weight in breadsticks and lasagna,” You’d say, sidling up and tucking yourself beneath his arm.

And Eddie would scoff because there’s no way either of you could afford Enzo’s, but he would never deny you a good time.

“Sounds great, Sweetheart, we don’t have to pay rent this month,”

Of course, that was never going to happen.

Realistically, he thinks if he had the chance to tell you, your face would scrunch in sadness or maybe even anger, because you’d worked so hard tutoring him last year, all for nothing. All for him to break up with you just because he was jealous that you’d graduated and he didn’t, because you’d promised you weren’t going to leave him behind and he hadn’t believed you.

Maybe this was the start of Eddie finally getting his shit together, but what is the point of moving on if you aren’t going to be there waiting for him?

He’d spent so long imagining the moment when his life would finally jump out of stasis — graduating, moving on, moving out, getting his own place, getting a real job, and maybe – if he was really lucky – even someday getting married. Settling down with someone kind and fun and funny and eventually having a couple of little Munson brats of his own, running around wreaking havoc and living the childhood he always wished he’d been lucky enough to have.

He doesn’t want any of that on his own, he doesn’t want it without you – as cheesy, sappy, rom-com bullshit as that sounds.

He'd spent too long imagining his life with you.

Whatever scenario he drummed up for his future self — whether the band took off and he made it big and became this ridiculously famous rockstar living in a mansion out in LA, or even if he just got a job at a mechanic’s shop somewhere that barely paid him enough to make rent — you were always there with him.

Filthy rich or dirt poor, you were supposed to be hitting those milestones together.

He’s going to graduate next month and you’re not going to be there.

Eddie's heart is hammering against his ribs again, and he flexes his fingers to keep his hands from shaking.

It always hits him in the worst moments...

There is no rhyme or reason to his path after Ms. Kim turns him loose. For lack of anywhere better to go, Eddie heads straight for his locker, because he doesn’t think he can stomach sitting through class — he doesn’t know what he plans to do when he gets there.

Maybe he’ll grab his shit and leave — cutting class is not a good look when you're trying to graduate — maybe he’ll slam his head in the door until the blood stops roaring in his ears or his head falls off or something — can't graduate if you're dead — can't have a panic attack if you're dead either.

He fumbles with the lock until he can get the door open then, for lack of anything better to do, sticks his head inside, hands gripping the metal tightly as he tries to take deep breaths.

It’s nothing compared to a sink full of ice water, and the relative dark is not enough to be calming, but it’s better than nothing.

Calm down calm down calm down calm down calm–

“Are you okay?” he thinks he hears you ask.

Eddie whips back from his locker and cracks the back of his head against the door – ow – and it’s not you standing there, staring at him through your lashes, of course, it’s a cheerleader.

Chrissy Cunningham, he remembers after a moment of static. Red-blonde hair pulled into a high ponytail, sweet face, heavy blue eye makeup. She’s wearing jeans and a soft white cardigan and Eddie realizes he didn’t recognize her without the greens and golds of her cheer uniform. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen her out of it.

The phrasing makes him feel like he could start blushing.

She’s staring up at Eddie with big, wide eyes, filled with concern, and maybe something halfway to fear. It takes him a moment too long to realize she’s waiting for him to answer the question she’d asked.

“What?” He asks a little too loud, swallowing hard.

Her voice is very quiet when she answers.

“I just … asked if you’re okay…?”

“Oh… Yep— I mean — yeah, no. Yes. I’m fine.” Real smooth, keep talking cool guy, “I was just— I was looking for something.”

He gestures nervously to his locker, glancing at its messy contents before reaching out and snatching the first thing he sees. A broken pencil. Great.

Eddie has never been good at thinking on his feet — there is always as good a chance that he’s going to make a complete fool of himself as he is going to come across as smooth. Even when he’s confident that things will go well, his brain has this nasty little habit of betraying him at the last moment and short-circuiting, as had happened that first moment he’d tried to talk to you in the lunchroom.

He may as well have just stabbed himself with the broken pencil for how thinking about that makes his chest hurt.

Still, he holds the pencil up to Chrissy, like he needs to prove that he’s okay. He’s not.

“Found it.” He says.

She stares at him, wide-eyed and blank for what feels like an excruciatingly long moment, and then she smiles — giggles even, in spite of herself, pursing her lips and casting her gaze downward. It’s a soft, shy thing that carries shades of the way you’d looked at him the first time he’d ever spoken to you. It makes Eddie’s heart thump.

In a moment he remembers himself and slams his locker door shut, putting the pencil behind his ear and crossing his arms over his chest like he suddenly feels the need to protect himself.

Cheerleaders don’t usually talk to him unless it is to say something nasty or to try and buy from him … or that time in his first senior year when the cheer captain cornered him in the bathroom at a party and tried to coerce him into having sex with her out of some kinky, rebellious fantasy she’d wanted to fulfill before she graduated — you’d thankfully come to his rescue before anything could happen.

Girls like Chrissy Cunningham, who wear their innocence like a veil and date sports stars most certainly don’t talk to guys like Eddie.

It makes him nervous.

“Uh … sorry, did you… want? Something?”

Her eyes grow wide, like she’s been accused of something untoward and she looks away again, scratching nervously at her ankle with the toe of her immaculate white sneaker.

“Oh. Yes… actually.” Chrissy says, “Um, s-so… I was told that you— like … I mean if I wanted to get … something? You would have it.”

It takes him a long moment to untangle the sentence, and he’s a little dumbfounded when it finally comes undone. Maybe he was wrong about her because according to his translations, Chrissy wants one of two things from Eddie: sex or drugs.

Somehow he doesn’t think she’s coming on to him so that just leaves option two, which doesn’t leave him any less flummoxed.

“You wanna buy?”

It sounds much more like an accusation than he intended.

Chrissy twists a delicate finger tightly in the hair at the nape of her neck, garroting the tip of her digit and doing her very best not to look directly at Eddie. Her face is ever so slightly flushed pink as she bites at her lower lip and nods.

In spite of the bizarre situation, Eddie does think she is really very pretty, in a way he’d never noticed before.

He swallows and clears his throat to stop his voice from cracking as he continues.

“…What, uh— what were you in the market for… specifically?” He asks.

Chrissy glances at him from the corner of her eye and twists her sleeves down over her hands. She hesitates like she has absolutely no idea how to answer the question. Suddenly, her eyes are bright and shining, like she is ready to cry, and Eddie’s heart is in his throat.

He can’t stand to see people crying – girls, in particular, it makes him feel helpless, too much like watching his mother put makeup on over the bruises on her face. His hands twitch at his sides as the impulse to somehow try and comfort her becomes nearly overwhelming.

“Hey — hey… it’s okay. I’m not gonna bite you.” He says softly, resisting the urge to take a step toward her.

And do what, hug her?

That’s what he would have done with you, pulled you close and held you tight until you’d calmed down. Eddie doesn’t dare cross that line to touch Chrissy, he’s half convinced she might combust into flames if he did, innocent little bird that she is.

Innocent little bird trying to buy drugs.

He hopes she knows he means no harm as suddenly she becomes very interested in her sneakers, tugging at the hem of her big cardigan.

Eddie dips his head to try and meet her gaze, make her look at him – all she’ll do is glance at him, and he smiles at her when she does, in a way he hopes is reassuring. The moment of emotion thankfully passes quickly and Chrissy comes down again – she’s no longer on the verge of tears and Eddie can relax… at least a little bit.

“You good?” He asks.

“Yeah— yes. I’m sorry… I’ve — I’ve never done this before.” She mumbles, chewing the inside of her lip.

“That’s okay…” He assures her, shaking his head, “Everybody starts somewhere… I guess – uh – I guess I should’ve asked what kind of results you’re after?”

She blows out a tense breath and purses her lips like she really has to think about it.

“I don’t know… I—um… I've been having …n-nightmares?” She mumbles, then shudders bodily, like a sudden chill has ripped through her. “Terrible nightmares.”

For half a moment, she gets this scary, far-away look in her eye and it’s enough to stop Eddie from thinking about how her admitting that feels a tad too much like oversharing, considering they don’t know each other…

That’s not true, He tells himself, You do know Chrissy… second grade. Project on manatees – she came over and mom helped us work on it…

And then like being struck over the head, he’s reminded of another seriously unhelpful bit of information for the moment Eddie has found himself in.

She came to Mom’s funeral…

Eddie nods sagely, “You wanna sleep better.” he hums, trying to banish the image of black clothes and sorrowful faces standing around as a coffin is lowered into a grave — a much younger Chrissy stealing a shy glance at him before ducking back to hide behind a pair of legs.

Eddie wonders if she remembers any of that.

Chrissy returns the motion, a sharp jerk of her head in affirmation. It’s reassuring. At least he knows what he can sell her now.

“Okay.” He feels himself smiling without really being aware of how it got there, and he shrugs, “Well, hey, I’ve got the cure—“ Eddie stops short and tries to blink the living room at Rick’s place back on its axis — I’ve got the shit for what ails you — he’s quick to correct himself, shaking his head to try and clear the sudden smokey haze from his mind, “I’ve got something for that,”

Chrissy nods again and then brings up a hand Eddie hadn’t realized she’d had clutched in a fist. Slowly, her fingers unfurl to reveal a crumpled hundred-dollar bill.

“How much will this get me?”

Eddie almost laughs out loud at the sight of it. It’s more than he’s ever even paid to refill his whole stash.

Much more than you’re gonna need, Sweetheart, he wants to say, but he can suddenly taste whiskey on the back of his tongue and his head is buzzing with static.

Eddie rubs his hands down his jeans where his palms have become sweaty, and he tries to pass the nervous motion off like he’s searching his pockets.

“Well, I don’t— I don’t have anything on me right now…?”

“Oh!” Chrissy chirps, eyes widening to the size of dinner plates and freezing a moment as her fingers snap closed on the money again. “Sorry–”

“It’s fine, I’ll just...” Eddie makes a show of jerking his thumb over his shoulder, but Chrissy is shaking her head before he can finish the thought.

“No, no that’s okay—I just thought… nevermind, it doesn’t matter…”

She trails off, color bleeding into her cheeks as the interaction suddenly starts to feel like it’s fizzling out.

Eddie is quick to try and smooth things over because strangely he is suddenly very concerned with what Chrissy thinks about him. He suddenly wants so badly for her to think he is nice.

“No, I mean — like, if you wanna come back around tomorrow?”

An awkward silence blooms between them as she considers the offer.

“Tomorrow?” She echoes, a soft, lilting question that has Eddie smiling at her again.

He notices that her two front teeth are ever so slightly crooked in a way that is painfully endearing. She’s much too sweet for this, he shouldn’t be agreeing to deal to her, but he suddenly feels the closest he has felt to his old self in months, standing there in the empty hallway, talking to Chrissy Cunningham — Eddie before you.

“Yeah.” He says gently, “Yeah—we could meet after school…”

She hesitates, worries her lower lip, and continues to avoid looking at Eddie. It doesn’t feel malicious so much as bashful, like maybe it didn’t matter that it was him she was talking to, like she would have been this shy trying to buy drugs from anyone.

Her brows come together, scrunching down over her big pretty eyes.

“Tomorrow’s the pep rally,” Chrissy says softly, like she’s letting him down.

It hits Eddie like a fist to the gut, and darkness begins creeping in at the edges of his vision. He takes a slow, deep breath in through the nose and blinks rapidly.

“You don’t want to go to the pep rally.” He can suddenly hear you saying, somewhere very far away.

Eddie digs his nails into the palm of his hand until it hurts in an attempt to try and banish you.

“Right.” He says, forcing himself to breathe normally.

Chrissy finds the courage to finally look at him then, if only briefly — her eyebrows are turned up apologetically.

“…And the championship game,” she says.

“You just want to go and antagonize the basketball team…”

“That’s also true.” Eddie hums, nodding.

He’d caught you on your way out of class, throwing his arm around your shoulders and trying to steer you towards the gymnasium before you’d shrugged out of his reach.

No, of course, Eddie didn’t want to go to the pep rally, but an injustice had been delivered upon the Hellfire Club by said Hawkins Tigers, and by code of law, action begets action. He didn’t know what he planned to do – make a scene, probably heckle and taunt the players from the bleachers, be generally disruptive – but you wanted absolutely no part of it.

Your refusal was an idle thing, yet dagger sharp.

Eddie staggered, throwing himself back against a row of lockers and gasping dramatically as he pantomimed being stabbed. You hardly reacted, rolling your eyes and leaving him behind as you made your way further down the hall toward your locker. You were used to his antics by now. He watched you go.

“Me? Antagonize the basketball team?” Eddie called, jogging to catch up, “I would never–”

“No, of course not.” You said, the sarcasm oozing off of you thick enough to leave a gooey trail in your wake. “Because you’re just bursting with school spirit, right? – Go sports!”

Eddie couldn’t help but laugh, coming to a sliding stop at your side as you found your locker amidst the row.

“Oh, come on, Sweetheart, give me a little credit here. I’m peppy as hell. I’ve got pep in my step,” The statement was punctuated by Eddie jumping up and down beside you.

Again you rolled your eyes, and turned your attention to fidgeting with the sticky padlock clipped to your locker.

“Look, if we go, it’s gonna be weird that we’re even there in the first place and you’re just gonna push it and push it until one of those meatheads decides he’s offended by something and causes a big scene – because that’s what always happens – and it’s just so much easier not to go and avoid all that drama in the first place.”

You were right, because you were always right, but Eddie didn’t have to tell you that.

“How dare you,” He gasped, feigning offense, pressing a scandalized hand to his chest, clutching phantom pearls, “Here I am, bearing my heart and soul, and you won’t even entertain the idea of being seen in public with me. Heartless – that’s what you are.”

Of course, by then you were openly ignoring him and his antics, which absolutely would not do, so Eddie changed tactics. He reached out and pinched the flesh of your cheek between his thumb and forefinger.

“Hey, can you blame a guy for wanting to support the home team?”

You jerked out of his touch and swatted angrily at him.

And then, perfectly on cue, there came the basketball team. The hallway parted like the sea as people made way for Hawkins’s best and brightest (and most popular) flanked by the ever-present cheerleading squad, like a green and gold cloud of preppy little gnats.

Eddie clenched his teeth as he watched the group pass, feeling judgment rolling off of them in tangible waves, like invisible daggers hurled in his direction – worse still in your direction, because they’d offered you a choice and you’d picked him over them.

He just couldn’t help himself.

“Go Tigers!” Eddie shouted, pumping his fist in the air.

The phrase “if looks could kill” passed briefly through his mind as they turned to regard him. He felt a strange mixture of satisfaction and chagrin as they did their very best to kill him dead, satisfaction for how he’d gotten under their skin without doing basically anything, and then chagrin as he saw how their disdain for him extended to you.

That made it less fun – still, he committed to the bit.

“See?” Eddie said, gesturing down the hall towards the group of fading athletes, “Think about how fun it would be to sit through three whole hours of that.”

You watched them go – your old friends – and turned to look at him. Something fluttered across your face, and for half a moment Eddie was afraid he’d gone too far and hurt your feelings somehow. Then you narrowed your eyes.

“I thought Eddie Munson didn’t do school functions?” You teased, though there was real bite behind it.

Eddie cringed bodily – he understood that reference.

In the weeks before he’d mustered the courage to ask you out, you’d asked him if he was going to that night’s Sadie Hawkins dance. Eddie had scoffed and told you “I don’t really do school functions,” like it was some kind of running joke.

The Hellfire guys had laughed, and you’d tried your best to join in, but he’d seen the look of disappointment flash across your eyes and the way your face fell. You’d mumbled a quiet, “oh, okay, nevermind then” before quickly excusing yourself. It only occurred to him that you’d been asking him to the dance several hours later, while he was sitting on his bed working out the chords to a song you’d said you liked.

Eddie was sure his neighbors must have thought he was being murdered with the way he’d screamed when it hit him. He was a fucking idiot, and he knocked over just about every piece of furniture and clutter they owned in his panic to get to the phone and call you. It was too late for the dance, and he barely let you get a word in edgewise as he stumbled over apologies and excuses and promises to make it up to you somehow – he was still making it up to you.

“You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?” He groaned, thumping his head against the locker beside yours.

You gave him a sly, sidelong glance, your lips quirking at the corners and eyes flashing in triumph as you finally managed to jimmy your locker open.

“Never.” You purred.

Flirting with Chrissy seems like a real funny way of trying to make it up to you, but still, Eddie tries to make himself smile in a way he hopes is reassuring. He hopes it looks a lot more convincing than it feels.

“What if we meet up before the game?”He posits, and Chrissy doesn’t seem convinced, so he keeps talking, “D’you know where that old picnic table is? Out in the woods past the field?”

She nods, still tugging at the sleeves of her cardigan.

There is a soft crease of worry between her eyebrows and Eddie feels a strange combination of warmth blooming in his chest and guilt cramping his stomach as he resists the urge to smooth it away.

She really is very pretty...

“Yeah,” she says, slowly with a newfound sense of surety, “…Okay. Before the game.”

He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. A sigh of relief.

“Okay. So… I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Okay.”

"Okay."

She offers him one more shy smile before turning on her heel and scurrying down the hall.

He watches Chrissy go and very quickly feels the afterglow of talking to a pretty girl give over to guilt as something crumples inside of him.

“Come over tonight?” He’d asked, leaning against the locker beside yours.

You’d cast a sidelong glance his way and offered an apologetic smile as you tucked away your textbooks.

“I can’t – I’m babysitting.”

Ah, the old babysitting excuse – Eddie knew it all too well, and it was not enough to deter him.

“That’s okay, I’ll come to you.” He said, eliciting the expected response, your face scrunching up in the way he loves, brows coming together, eyes narrowing.

“No, you won’t.” you’d huffed, like he’d suggested something positively scandalous.

The suggestion of it was there, of course, a perpetually lingering shadow of arousal that lived between any two people in a consenting adult relationship (particularly if they happened to be a couple of horny teenagers) – still, Eddie couldn’t help but feign innocence.

“Why not?”

“Because.” You pressed, stretching the word, “I’m not gonna be one of those cliche babysitters who sneaks her boyfriend over to make out all night. That’s how you get killed in a horror movie.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, hand dropping idly to crook a finger through your belt loop and tug you towards him.

“Oh, come on,” He said, “We’re not gonna make out all night.”

He moved to tuck a wayward lock of hair behind your ear and somehow managed to get lost along the way. Suddenly his hand had come to rest at the curve of your throat, which only went on to suggest a strident contrast to what he’d just said.

No, you weren’t gonna make out all night, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to do everything in his power to get you out of your jeans.

“Eddie…” You warned him.

"Ed-die."

You furrowed your brow at his mocking and he just smiled. He knew that tone, it meant “don’t start”, but the way you sighed his name betrayed your steadfastness. It was reminiscent of the way you said it when he had you in a compromising position, with his hands all over you – all whiny and a little desperate, face flushed, lips bitten.

Uh oh, he thought, feeling the stirrings of something in his abdomen that was never so easily banished. Dangerous territory. Proceed with caution.

For the sake of his dignity, and considering you were both still at school, Eddie pivoted – it was a rare act of self-preservation.

“Come on, Babycakes,” he said, sounding perhaps a tad whinier than he’d intended, “I wanna meet the little twerp who’s been trying to steal my girl.”

Your brows came down in stark contrast to the way your face split into a wide grin as your fingers came up to grip the hand that had drifted south to rest over your collarbone.

“Your girl huh?” You purred, tilting your head down to gaze up at him through the thrush of your lashes.

Fuck. He loved it when you looked at him like that, but he knew if he wasn’t careful, he was gonna end up with a raging hard-on – at school, no less – and then what was he gonna do?

Eddie swallowed hard and ran his thumb over the plush spread of your lower lip, despite how it nudged him just a little further down the path of ruin. He had to fight to resist the urge to push the digit past your lips, press down on your tongue.

“Gotta scope out the competition.” He said thickly.

You scoffed then, thankfully cutting the tension with the harsh sound as you jerked your head back, pulling out of his grip.

“He’s not competition, Eds, he’s twelve.”

Eddie shrugged. “Even better, I’ll let the punk know who’s boss.” He could tell you clearly weren’t buying it, so he doubled down, “Hey– hey, I’m great at babysitting — I get those babies flat as a pancake every time.”

Your eyes flashed indignantly and before he could think to move, you jabbed him sharply in the ribs with your knuckle.

“Ah—shit!” he gasped.

“That’s my joke, Munson.”

Eddie hissed a sharp intake of breath and jerked away from the skittering feeling over his ribs as you poked him again and again.

“Baby don’t—ahh!“ He cut himself off with a cry as your hands came down to squeeze at his sides.

The worst thing that had ever happened to him was how you had so unceremoniously discovered just how goddamn ticklish he was, one afternoon when you’d engaged him in a wrestling match. You’d started it, but Eddie had easily flipped you over and pinned you down, holding your hands over your head and ready to torment you until you said “uncle”, but little did he know that you were an incorrigible brat who would not go down without a fight. Not a fair one, at least. Somehow, you’d gotten a hand free and immediately jabbed him in the ribs, pulling an embarrassingly high-pitched yelp from somewhere deep inside of him, startling the both of you. It was all over from there.

Eddie has not known a day of peace since, and today it seemed would be no different.

In some small attempt at self-preservation, he seized you at the wrists and pulled your hands around his back, jerking you forward and forcing you to hug him so that you couldn’t tickle him.

It was not the most ideal solution, considering the growing state of his arousal. You were suddenly pressed flat to him, head forced back so that your chin was resting at the dip of his sternum, gazing up at him with the faintest hint of mischief glinting in your pretty eyes.

If you were a cat, your tail would have been twitching with anticipation.

"Oh good, now that I've got your attention," He started, breathless and a little lightheaded as you tilted your chin down ever so slightly.

And then you sank your teeth into the soft flesh of his chest and Eddie yelped. He bit the sound off with a shout of laughter and pushed away from you.

You chased him, because of course you did, vicious harpy that you were – talons extended and reaching to grab at him again. He easily skirted around you in a wide circle, and suddenly you were both laughing and shouting as Eddie proceeded to run up and down the hall, fleeing the threat of your tickling fingers like he was running for his life.

It was an exercise in stamina, as even though he had longer legs, you were the faster runner, and as such, you were on him at every turn, squeezing and poking and pinching.

You really were in rare form that day. Super bratty. Part of him knew he was gonna have to hold you down and teach you a lesson later if you kept it up. That same part of him really hoped you would keep it up.

Your classmates passed you idly in the hall as you played, staring in varying degrees of discomfort as they made their way to the forgotten pep-rally, admonishing your dopey public displays of shouting, laughing affection with sidelong glances and the singular utterance of “get a room.”

In quite the athletic feat, Eddie finally managed to outmaneuver you enough to grab you from behind, pulling your hands across your chest and pinning them there so that you were stuck in a straight jacket of your own body. Once he was certain you were restrained, he walked you back to your locker, compensating for your presence between his legs by taking large awkward steps.

The action was closer to skipping than walking, and by the time Eddie deposited you back to your locker – the both of you noticeably winded from the game – you were giggling hysterically, spinning in his arms and rocking back against the cold metal door. You made no effort to stop him from caging you in there, hands coming up to rest on either side of your head as you lingered a moment, working to catch your breath.

Your face was flushed the prettiest shade of pink from exertion, eyes bright, chest heaving. Eddie watched your tongue poke out to swipe a thin sheen of moisture over your lips, and he swallowed hard.

He had to force himself to drag his gaze up from your mouth.

“So anyway, about me helping you babysit tonight—"

You heaved an overdramatic groan and rolled your eyes as Eddie rushed to continue before you could cut him off.

“Just hear me out— you said he’s a little nerd, right? That’s perfect. Nerds love me,”

“No, they don’t.”

“They do.” He insisted, beaming, “We can play D&D! Like a mini-campaign. Just the three of us – it will be so fun, I promise.”

The corners of your mouth quirked with humor.

“Can I be the Dungeon Master?” You asked.

You were teasing, but Eddie just dipped his head forward to brush his lips against the highest point of your cheekbone.

“Baby, you can be whatever the hell you want if you just say yes.” He said, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You hummed thoughtfully and let your head thump back against the hard metal like you were really considering the suggestion.

Eddie pulled back ever so slightly to watch the gears of your mind turning visibly on your face, though he very quickly became distracted as his eyes dipped to the exposed columns of your throat. He had to work very hard to resist the urge to put his mouth on you and suck a bruise into your flesh.

He wondered what the student body would think about that? The Freaky couple going at it in the hallway while the pep rally went on unnoticed? How’s that for school spirit?

Finally, you shrugged your shoulders.

“…I mean… he would love that, actually.”

“Yes!” Eddie cheered, pumping his fist in victory.

He grabbed you by the wrist and jerked your hand up for a high-five, the force of which rang out with a loud clap, echoing through the now-empty hallway and leaving his palm stinging.

You were giggling again, chewing your lower lip like you meant to contain the sound.

“Really though, he’s gonna love you. You guys like all the same nerdy stuff,” you said, rapping your knuckles against his chest. “You’ll be best friends and then I’ll just be that girl from across the street who used to be cool. Last year’s toys —totally lame.”

Eddie caught your hand and held it there, brushing the pad of his thumb across your knuckles and telling himself he didn’t need to tell you just how cool he thought you were, how much he loved you.

He was too caught in the way his heart was suddenly thumping in his chest over the sentiment.

Nobody ever said “oh you should meet Eddie Munson, you’re gonna love him,” — at least not without a heavy dose of sarcasm.

Nobody loved Eddie. Except for you … and the kid you babysat, apparently.

It made him feel like he could burst.

Eddie wanted to linger in the feeling a little longer, bask in its glow, but because he was who he was, he just couldn’t help himself.

“Of course, he’s gonna love me, I’m awesome.”

You snorted with a burst of undainty laughter.

“And so modest!” You teased, eyes growing soft as you walked your fingers up over his chest. “And smart, and funny, and handsome…”

Eddie felt his stomach do a cartoon flip-flop – he was still learning to take compliments like that, and you’d made it perfectly clear that you wouldn’t stand for his self-deprecating comments, which left him standing hopelessly defenseless in moments like this.

He rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to hide his face in the crook of your neck, if only to hide the warmth he could feel creeping up into his face.

“Aw, babe…” he mumbled, “You’re gonna make me blush.”

Then your hands drifted southward to rest on the buckle of his belt, and Eddie felt something inside of him begin to throb.

He couldn’t tell if it was his heart or his dick.

“Let me come with you.” He suddenly couldn’t stop himself from saying, perhaps a little too earnestly as he did his best to ignore the way your nose wrinkled at the unintended innuendo.

You giggled, and Eddie pushed his lower lip out and pinched his brows in a mock pout.

“No, stop it, I’m trying to be sweet.” He huffed.

You breathed a sigh of soft laughter through your nose and nodded, relenting.

Eddie dropped his chin and nudged your nose with his, glancing up at you through the thrush of his lashes in a gentle mockery of the way you’d looked at him moments before.

“Please?” He pleaded, softly.

At this point, despite how you’d gotten him all worked up, he didn’t even want to have sex with you (that was a bald-faced lie, he would have fully taken you right there against the lockers if this were some kind of cheap porno and if he thought he could get away with it) he just wanted to be near you —always— sit on the couch and watch a movie with you, cuddle you, hold your hand, breathe you in, kiss you, hold you and never let you go.

Truthfully, Eddie just wanted in on the piece of your life that you had yet to share with him, because he was infinitely curious about how you spent your nights entertaining the kid you babysat.

Selfishly, he wanted every part of you to belong solely to him. He was, in fact, more than just a little bit jealous of how much of your time and attention that kid held in his grubby little hands.

It was stupid, he knew that, but you had a knack for making him just a little more stupid than was normal.

You brought your hands up to smooth the wrinkles out of the front of his shirt and drummed your fingers over his heart.

It was a nice prelude to the gentle rejection hanging on your lips.

“Not tonight, Eds.” You mumbled.

Eddie made an unabashedly whiny sound of disappointment in the hollow of his throat and put on a show of pouting as he dropped his head to press his forehead against yours.

“Fine,” He sighed – rather pathetically in the hopes that you would take pity on him enough to reconsider.

You didn’t, but you did surprise him by suddenly fisting your hands in the front of his jacket and tugging him closer, as if that were even possible.

He was fully pressed against you now, pinning you to the lockers, and that little sparkle of mischief was back in your eyes.

“…You should come over after, though.” you breathed against his lips.

Eddie felt heat flaring in his chest, the possibility of “after” dripping down to pool in the pit of his abdomen – he could feel his face splitting in a slow smile as he rocked back on his heels.

“Yeah?”

You nodded slowly, “My parents are in Chicago until next week — and I should be done tonight by eleven-thirty? Then we can hang out, watch a movie, and stuff.”

If he was grinning any wider, his face might have started to peel off, so Eddie bit his lip.

“And stuff, huh?” He echoed, tilting his head in curiosity, “What kinda stuff?”

He knew exactly what kind of stuff you were talking about, he just wanted to hear you say it.

“Oh, I dunno.” You hummed innocently, “Maybe play some games?”

“I like games.” Eddie said, nodding emphatically, “What kind of games do you want to play?”

You blew out a breath and rolled your eyes up like you were thinking, even going so far as to tap your chin with your index finger. You were so goddamn cute, Eddie’s fingers twitched with the urge to squish your face.

“Well, there’s Candyland… Twister… Chutes and Ladders?”

It was a stretch, to be sure, but nobody ever accused him of being mature, and in spite of himself, he snorted with laughter.

Chutes and Ladders… Dumb joke. Really trashy. Barely even an innuendo.

Still, he tried and failed to compose himself.

“Sounds good. What next?” Eddie asked, still chuckling.

Your eyebrows jumped, like you couldn’t believe the audacity of him to even think to ask.

“What, and ruin the surprise?”

The surprise was ruined the minute you put your hands on his belt.

It was sex.

You meant sex, but you were too shy to say it outright.

You were the type of person who wasn’t shy about initiating but did so by rolling up with your hands behind your back, eyebrows jumping as you coquettishly asked if he wanted to “fool around”, and it was so incredibly cheesy Eddie couldn’t help but fall a little more madly in love with you for it.

His heart was so full with the feeling, the declaration of it lived perpetually on the tip of his tongue, but how many times a day could a man feasibly tell the object of his affection he loved her before the words started to lose meaning?

The danger of semantic satiation was ever-present.

“You,” he said, taking your face in his hands and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, again and again, each following word punctuated with another chaste peck, “Are,” Kiss. “An incorrigible,” Kiss. “Tease.” Kiss kiss kiss. “And a mean, mean girl. How am I ever supposed to make it to eleven-thirty?”

You stuck him to the spot with a sly look, quirking your brow and pursing your lips.

“You’ve got hands, don’t you?” You said, deadpan.

The boldness of the statement hit him like a slap to the face, and as if it weren’t enough to say it, you punctuated the statement by bringing your fist up and making a slow jerking motion.

“Oh, my God!” Eddie shouted, hands flying down to grip you by the shoulders as he barked out a burst of sharp, incredulous laughter. “Who are you?”

In the distance, he could hear the marching band beginning to play, signifying the start of the pep rally.

You smiled, looking awfully proud of yourself for being so naughty, and then you were serious again, pouting.

“Well?” You prompted, “Edward. I asked you a question.”

Eddie bristled at the sound of his full name and gave you a hard, disapproving look. You just smiled, a cat in cream – you were really gonna pay for that one tonight, and he had to wonder if you knew that.

His fingers scrabbled up to rest at the junction where your shoulders met your neck – because he couldn’t not touch you – fingers gracing the curve of your throat, and he met your gaze.

“Yes.” He said matter-of-factly, “You’re absolutely right, my darling little weirdo. I’ve got hands.”

And then there was that look again. You were pleased as punch and his head was spinning for it.

He bit his tongue to resist the urge to tell you he loved you again.

Eddie had never been this stupid about someone in his entire life – he’d been with other people, had little crushes here and there, some reciprocated, most not, but he had never been in love before, not like this.

Nobody had ever matched his energy the way you did. He knew he could be too much, but his feelings had always been big and unwieldy. Eddie did nothing in small measures, least of all love, and he didn’t know how to parcel it out in manageable bites. Once he was in, he was all in, and he threw everything he had to offer at the object of his affection. You were the first person who had ever accepted it without hesitation, and perhaps most thrilling of all, you’d given it right back.

He could hardly stand it.

He would have married you tomorrow if you’d have him, but that was a secret, something shiny to take out and admire in private moments. That was just for him.

Eddie pulled you into a tight hug, and pressed yet another kiss to your temple. He hummed contentedly when he felt your arms snake up around his waist under his jacket and the soft rumble of you sighing against him and he loved loved loved — but still, he just couldn’t help himself.

“I’ve also got a blanket in the back of my van.” He said crudely into the line of your hair.

Then it was your turn to shout with laughter, pushing against his chest. Eddie only held you tighter, deciding he could stand to indulge himself, and you could stand to be squeezed a little.

“Come on, Sweetheart.” He said, teasing a little too much as he hugged you and stretched the words in a singsong way, “Let’s go out to the vaaaan.”

“I don’t have time!” You laughed, the strain of trying to break free of him evident in your voice.

Eddie nuzzled his face into the crown of your head and felt the tickling of static kicking up over his nose and cheeks.

“Sure you do.”

You continued to struggle, and Eddie continued to hold on.

“I don’t want to be late.”

“You can be a little late.”

“No—"

“Yes.”

“Eddie.” You whined, that authoritative warning creeping into your tone again.

Christ, he loved it when you got bossy.

Still, Eddie released you, though only to seize you roughly by the jaw and pull you back to him, slanting his mouth against yours in a forceful kiss. He coaxed you to open up for him just a little more with a swipe of his tongue and the little moan you breathed into him as he licked the roof of your mouth shots all the way down to his balls, kind of like a bolt of lightning, kind of like getting kicked there.

It was not entirely unpleasant.

You were more than just a little bit breathless when Eddie finally released you with a wet, vulgar smack, feeling satisfied enough to start purring, like a cat in cream as he licked his lips. He watched you struggle to open your eyes and hummed contentedly at the sight.

He still had a gentle hold on your jaw, and he was not entirely convinced he wasn’t just going to kiss you again and again, holding you to the spot until you were late to babysit, just because you were that sweet, with your pink lips parted ever so slightly and your face flushed bright red.

Instead, he squished your cheeks in his hand and shook your head back and forth, fondly, before finally releasing you.

“Alright, that’s enough out of you.” He said, “Begone Succubus! And tempt me no more.”

“Don’t be mean,” you huffed, taking your bag from Eddie as he offered it to you and shouldering it.

Eddie spun you away, and crooked his fingertips to hold on until distance demanded you part. Off you went, looking back at him with a bashful smile and starting down the hall.

He sighed, and watched you go. Eddie pressed his hand to the left side of his chest where he could feel his heart thumping and felt utterly dopey, drunk on your love and lost in the promise of “after”.

Then, he remembered almost too late that he couldn’t just let you go — he had to get you back for biting him— and because you were a brat and he had absolutely no handle on his impulsivity, Eddie took a big step forward and brought his hand down to clap you on the ass with a loud smack.

You yelped and leaped damn near out of your skin, hands flying down to cover the offended spot and face burning as you turned back to glare at him. You stuck your tongue out at him and he could feel the muscles in his face start to hurt from how widely he was grinning.

“See you tonight!” He called, watching you scurry down the hall, shoulders pulled up to your ears because of course —of course— he still wasn’t done, so he raised his voice and shouted, “—you know— FOR THE SEX!”

“Eddie!” You hissed, “Shut up!”

Eddie watches Chrissy go and breathes out a hard, shaky breath to try and banish the way he’s getting dangerously misty-eyed.

When she’s gone, disappeared around the corner, he sinks to the floor to stop his knees from buckling underneath him, and crouches at the foot of the lockers. He groans and crushes his palms into his eyes until he sees bursts of color.

Eddie misses you more than he’s missed anything in his stupid, pathetic life, and he feels guilty for it because he has no right to miss you after he’d so carelessly thrown you away.

Stupid, stupid, stupid…

He can’t shake the feeling that with the perfectly innocent interaction he’d just had with Chrissy, he’s wronged you somehow, betrayed you — more than he already has — and he has to remind himself that flirting isn’t cheating.

You can’t cheat on someone you aren’t with.

He sniffs pathetically and runs the back of his hand under his nose.

He wishes the ground would open up and swallow him. He wishes he could feel normal again, free from this pervasive guilt, these stupid panic attacks, the crushing vice you still hold on his life after almost a year. He wishes he could be rid of you, and he wishes he would cease to exist for even thinking that.

Nobody’s fault but your own, you fucking loser.

Eddie makes himself think about Chrissy, because that feels easier than missing you. He thinks about her long legs in her short little cheer skirt, the gentle pout of her pink lips, her big wet eyes.

He thinks about how he’s going to see her again tomorrow.

He tells himself he’ll keep on flirting with her if she’s open to it, because she’s nice and she’s pretty and because there’s danger in it.

He knows he’ll definitely end up having sex with her if she comes on to him, because it’s been eight months since he’s felt the gentle press of your body and his hand has been a poor substitute.

Eddie knows Chrissy has a boyfriend, but he doesn’t care, because fuck Jason Carver and the shining white horse he rode in on.

There is a delicious sense of satisfaction in thinking about how goddamn pissed Jason would be to find out Chrissy had been talking to him, let alone soliciting drugs from him.

His perfect little princess.

Eddie thinks he could ruin her and have fun doing it.

No, he wouldn’t. He would do it and feel awful about it afterward because all he seems to manage to do these days is destroy himself a little more.

The thought of using her like that makes him feel sick, but he doesn’t know what to do with all the love you left behind in him. He doesn’t know where to put it. He won’t part with it — it’s all he has left of you — but it’s becoming a weight much too cumbersome to carry.

Eddie tells himself that maybe a rebound is the answer, maybe it’s what he needs to finally start to feel halfway normal again. Maybe it’s time to finally start thinking about moving on… the thought of it breaks his heart all over again.

If he closes his eyes tight enough he can still see you walking down the hall, glancing back at him over your shoulder – sticking your tongue out at him because you think he’s an asshole.

You'd wanted to see him.

He wants to see you so badly it makes his chest hurt… but instead, tomorrow he is going to see Chrissy...

Taglist: @harrys-tittie @r-a-d-i-0-n-0-w-h-e-r-e @itsrainingbisexualfrogs @thicksexxualtension @ganseysgff @scoopsr0bin @peanutbutter-y-jams @audhd-dragonaut @clilxlx @alexandriaemily20 @averagestudent03 @but-vanessa @cosmictime45 @timelordfreya @forever-war @munsonzzgf

[emmyrosee]

hi hello first time in your inbox, great admirer of your work, how’s it going? I’ve been consumed with thoughts of osamu being a teasing little bitch lately I just need a safe space to get the thoughts out or I WILL combust !!

I’m very easily flustered but I enjoy the attention from the person I’m with/into specifically, so the thought of Osamu picking up on that and making it his mission to get his s/o to blush/laugh/hide away by any means necessary has been great for my imagination

Oh, getting closer to their face makes them forget what they were saying and stumble over their words? It makes a big smile appear? Noted. Nuzzling into their neck makes them giggle and whine about how he “can’t do that because we’re literally in a groCERY STORE, STOP WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS OHMYGOSH” when his nuzzles turn into those tickly neck kisses? Cute. He also discovers he loves their laugh and doesn’t care if they’re in the middle of a phone call, or in front of friends, if he has a chance to hear his favourite sound, he will. He lives for the sight of his s/o getting all nervous and flustered because of him just giving them a little extra love. Very touchy, just in general, cause he likes that he still has an effect on them, it reassures him sometimes to know they still want him and like his affection, even if it is teasing. He’ll also flirt with them years into the relationship cause he likes the way they get all shy and hide their face in his neck or chest and complain about him being unfair, cause I don’t think he’s very easily flustered in this context.

This got… MUCH longer than I thought it would I’m so sorry??? But I hope you enjoyed my rambling and my thoughts of the loml Miya Osamu <3

-anon <3

ANON 😭❤️ first of all, your words literally are gonna make me cry tf.

SECONDLY??? OSAMU DOING LITTLE THINGS TO MAKE YOU EXTREMELY FLUSTERED IS MY LOVE LANGUAGE. ILL SOB IN HIS MOUTH, I WANNA MARRY HIM SMH.

The first time it happens, it’s a complete accident, you’re rambling on about something he did to annoy you, and despite how much he tries to apologize, you won’t listen, so he finally works up the nerve to just grab your waist and push you against the counter, towering over you and just giving you his most sincere voice.

“I’m sorry, sugar. I didn’t mean it, and I’ll try not to do it again, ‘kay? There ain’t much more I can say; don’t be mad anymore, it ain’t worth it.”

But all you notice is the way he’s absolutely mammothed over you, massive paws on your hips and how he’s so close, you can feel the heat from his breath and the ‘sugar’ that falls casually. Your chest heaves quickly, your teeth sink into your lip, and he almost thinks you’re about to cry when you give him a nod and wobbly-smiled “love you.”

He’s nodding on the outside, but on the inside he’s like oH B))))

It’s a spiral from then on.

He’s so anNOYING I LOVE HIM he’s like. He tries to be subtle first because the last thing he wants is to make you uncomfortable, so it starts small.

A massive hand on your hip when you walk around, smirky little “what’s up, sexy?” when you call his name, he even does that obnOXIOUS thing where he bends over to try and hear you clearer, his face inches from yours. It makes you stammer and struggle over your words, and he merely gives you a chuckle with a kiss on your cheek.

Anything and everything to make you squirm in public.

Once he realizes that in a way, yes, you do love the over exaggerated affection he gives you, there is no hope for you. Good luck. 

“Samuuuu…” you whine, shoving him off of you and pushing the cart, your face scorching from the affection. “I don’t bully you like this, stop it…”

“Stop it,” he mimics with a cheesy smile, easily catching the hand you were gonna smack him with, and planting a kiss to the palm. “Fine. I’ll behave or whatever.”

Things chill after that, but he’s still a menace, so when he starts to feel like you’ve been at the market too long, or he’s bored and needs a pick me up, he’ll wrap your arm slowly around your waist- you’re literally looking at chips he’s so mean- and bury his face in the crook of your neck with a soft “baaaaabe…” you can’t see it, but he’s bent over dramatically just to be able to do this, and you cannot stand it.

“Go away Osamu, I’m almost done.”

“But I want to go home,” he pouts, turning his head to nuzzle against you. His nose tickles over your neck, and you can’t hold back the giggles that bubble over your throat. “Want to spend time with you.” His teeth nip at your jawline, and you jump with a squeak.

“We are spending time together,” you choke. “Back off.”

“Make me.”

Immediately, his cold ass fingers slip under your shirt to make you squeal even more, and he smirks against the warm skin of your neck as everyone in the aisle goes silent. He hears you clear your throat and mumble a quiet “okay.. we can go,” before raising up and grabbing the cart from you with a cocky smile.

He’s just… he’s a fUGGEN MENACE OKAY, HE Has no self control when it comes to anything, ever.

Dinner with your friends? He’s drawing innocent circles on your inner knee, just tickly enough to make you itch but not enough to scold him yet.

Watching the Jackals with his family? He’s nosing at your hair, taking inhales of your scent- it would be cute if he wasn’t whispering flirts in your ear at the same time.

One time, he was too flirty and you were having none of it, and some random man and his wife asked if you were comfortable with Osamu; it was with great embarrassment that you had to convince the couple that you two were, in fact, in a consensual relationship, and if you thought Osamu would reel in his flirts you would be absolutely wrong.

It doesn’t matter what. It doesn’t matter where. It doesn’t matter who’s around. Osamu miya takes his pride whenever he makes you writhe just from his presence.

It does, however, balance out in the most innocent touches, and the way he never loses the loving gaze on you that he tries to cover with his ridiculous smirks and flirts, and at the end of the day, when you’ve got your 6’2” manimal nuzzled under your chin, it makes all the concerned looks and awkward glances from others worth it.

The way he looks at you like you’ve sewn the stars in the sky, the way he listens to you like law as you speak, how warm his hands are as he soothingly rubs them up and down your back.

He’s lucky he’s so cute.

He’s a goddamned freak.

I love him so much.

[westadventure24]

Day 7 - Oh Brother!

We were thrilled to have our own personal tour guide drive over 2 1/2 hours from Belgrade, MT, to spend the day (and night!) educating us about all of the best places the top loop of Yellowstone has to offer.

For those of you who don’t know, Todd’s brother, Ryan, spent many years working at Yellowstone and living in Montana.

So, we started our day visiting Tower Falls…aptly named for a cascading waterfall running between two enormous rock towers. Every time you think you have seen it all, the next thing you see is just as unexpected!

Ryan and Todd both are also very good at spotting wildlife, even in the most camouflaged situations. As we piled back in the RV after Tower Falls, Ryan quickly pointed out these two female big horned sheep and their young. A species we had been hoping to see! We looked for big daddy, but no luck. He was likely watching over his family from high above the rocks, where our viewpoint was blocked.

Next stop was the Petrified Tree. Now, I may have this wrong because I am certainly no paleobotanist, but it is my understanding that a tree can become petrified, or stone like, when it is covered in volcanic ash, remains undisturbed, and the wood is replaced by minerals over millions of years. In this particular spot, there used to be 3 trees. Sadly, only one remains in this particular area that is an easy, short walk for park visitors.

Mom’s favorite place of the day was Mammoth Hot Springs. This quaint little town is the home of the park offices, a lodge, post office, restaurant, and much more. Herds of Elk like to call this home and spend much time grazing on the well manicured green spaces in the town. Evidently, they heard we were coming and chose to remain in the nearby mountains. I can attest to the fact they spend time there by the amount of droppings left behind!

The visitors center there was quite educational and well organized. There were displays about the history of the creation of Yellowstone as a national park, the mistakes that nearly destroyed the bison herds, a full wildlife taxidermy display of the those animals calling the park home, and, of course, a gift shop. Here we learned there were no geysers, but rather underground hot springs that do not erupt. This made Dad much more comfortable about seeing the Mammoth Hot Springs Terraces.

Before seeing the terraces in person though, we stopped for a bite of lunch in the restaurant. This just happened to be the exact same restaurant of Ryan’s first experience as a chef. He was not surprised to discover the menu had changed, but the building had not. He told us of how he and his colleagues would spend time off, and showed us the dormitory where he lived. Interestingly, our waitress said the staff still spends their free time in many of the same places as Ryan did in the early 90’s.

After a selfie of the whole crew, our tour took us to Sheepeater Cliffs. This area was named after the Shoshone Indians who lived in the area and made full use of big horn sheep. Let’s just say it is a good thing the sheep we saw earlier chose to live elsewhere. Yikes!🐏

The crew was getting tired so we headed back toward camp by way of the Virginia cascades. Gorgeous!

Once we had camp all set up, Mom and Dad opted to spend a little quiet time doing crosswords together while Todd, Ryan and I made one more trip to the nearby Grand Canyon of Yellowstone. My husband is a truly special and thoughtful human being. You see, when looking through family photos recently, he loved this picture of Mom and Dad Hohenstein when they were roughly our age and on one of their visits to see Ryan. What I didn’t realize was that Todd wanted us to have a forever memory and in that same location, and we had missed seeing the Upper Falls the day before. At this point I don’t think either of us quite have a grasp on which falls were the Upper or Lower and I am not sure we got the exact spot, but no doubt we’re in the right vicinity. 🥰

We spent the rest of the evening sitting around the campfire before and after the rain. Ryan, being the true outdoorsman that he is, chose to stay in his tent the entire night through the rumbling thunder and pouring rain and yet still woke up happy and smiling. We are so thankful for the time we spent together, the stories he shared, and the kindness in his heart. It was awesome to see him in the place he loves so much! What an unforgettable day!!!

[brown-little-robin]

Story asks: for both mp100 and Jojo, 1, 5, 6, 7, 13, 14, 19, 22

YAY okay I love these asks but I'm going to split the post in half because that's a lot of writing (thank you, you Get It). mob psycho 100 first:

1: what got you into this story?

clicking on a fifteen minute YouTube video essay titled "The Philosophy of Mob Psycho 100: The Sublime" or something like that. It explained mp100 through the end of episode 5. That was the first time I got into mp100. But I gave up on episode 5 that first time. I came back several years later because of this comic about what would have happened if Mogami kidnapped Mob at a young age and reading the mp100 fanfiction that inspired it, A Breach of Trust. Both times, I got into mp100 because of something a passionate and inspired fan made!

5: do you have a favorite character? who?

Shigeo "Mob" Kageyama himself :) and other than him, Ritsu, Musashi, and Dimple!

6: do you have a LEAST favorite character? who?

(sigh) well. if I must say it... Reigen. I care about him; he's interesting and I don't hate him. But honestly, I don't personally find him that funny, and that's the main draw of his character, is the comedy!

7: how does the story compare to your initial impressions of it? has it surprised you yet? how?

oh, it surprised me VERY much. it's..... the thing with Mob Psycho 100 is that it toes the line of almost being a parody of the shounen and paranormal genre, while also taking itself very seriously when you get right down to it. The premise is silly, but the emotional beats are incredibly raw. I thought mp100 was going to be... y'know... a silly slice-of-life story about a psychic kid's life as an exploited employee of a con man, and instead it hits me with things like "no one is special, and that means that everyone has the potential to change themselves bit by bit and do good in the world, including compulsive liars and severely repressed anxious teenagers". That kind of thing.

13: tell me an out-of-context piece of worldbuilding or lore!

alskdjfslkdf okay so in the 3rd and final season, a single mammoth broccoli plant appears in Seasoning City. It's called The Divine Tree. You will cry because of the broccoli. :)

14: how likely do you think this story is to break a reader's heart?

VERY LIKELY. you will be broken down and rebuilt. It will happen over and over again, starting with episode 5 of the anime or volume 2 of the manga. You will emerge stronger.

19: pitch an idea for a sequel or spinoff novel for this story!

okay this is a little bonkers but I want to see Tome and Mezato have an adventure together. And they should drag some protesting other, less insane person into it, too. I think a Tome and Mezato and Takenaka (and oooooh maybe Inukawa as a translator) story where they meet aliens would have some SERIOUS potential. It would be SO funny. IMAGINE. Takenaka playing the exasperated straight man to Tome and Mezato's zany nonsense, but not actually minding at all; he actually likes his life to be interesting and is studying them like bugs. Tome and Mezato feeling like they have to compete to fill the "most passionate person here" role, then discovering that both of them have felt insecure about their interests. Inukawa having PTSD flashbacks to the last time he interacted with aliens, the serious side of the story which is gonna need to be handled tactfully, and Tome, Mezato, and Takenaka are not tactful people, so it's gonna go wrong. IMAGINE. (vibrating with excitement)

22: FREE SPACE: say anything you want about the story!! <3

In lieu of saying something, I'm going to share screenshots, because the art style of the anime is one of my favorite things about mp100. :]

IT'S JUST SUCH A BEAUTIFUL SHOW, MAN

[leclerced]

https://www.tumblr.com/enchantecafe/738701264923328512/ive-been-thinking-recently-probably-because-of

Omg this made me laugh sm. So im german and i just imagined bringing lando with me to my grandma and he’s thinking „ok german food wont be a problem, schnitzel is great and bratwurst is also easy, i eat that at home“. His reaction when he sees a fucking mettigel for the first time, pure horror (you should google it). I imagine pulling him into a bathroom bc its kale season and he needs to help me wash 40kg (88lbs) kale in the bathtub and sees all the insects coming out of it? And how 8 full Bathtubs shrink down to 3 big pots??? He‘d faint if he were to witness germans yell at each other over the correct name of a Berliner (its berliner). Poor boy would be so confused about why asparagus season is taken so seriously here 😭

And the worst part, im from Wolfsburg (the home city of Volkswagen) and he has to sit there and listen to why the VW Ketchup has a serial number like the car parts at the factory or how there was a „ketchup gate“.

🫀

link

okay sorry i didn’t answer this when u sent it but ugh. i love this sooo much it made me laugh sm. i kept rereading it all day and giggling. god i want to go to germany so bad.

lando would walk in and see the mettigel and immediately be like, “oh fuck i have to eat that?” he’d panic internally soo bad until she shows him the foods he will eat, ones she specifically asked to be made so he wouldn’t starve. i can so imagine his gfs brothers or like the kids of the family teasing him with weird foods, like when carlos tried getting him to eat sushi!! lando’s politely declining and trying not to gag at the sight.

the kale thing is so fucking funny. 88 lbs of kale??? 8 full tubs of kale??? what are u cookin ?? who eats that much kale??? this sounds like one of those math problems where someone buys 78 bottles of soda and you have to determine the final cost with tax.

all that kale and it all shrinks down to 3 big pots???? oh my fucking god thats insane!!!!!!!! lando would not be eating it after he sees all the bugs. he would never eat kale again because he knows bugs have been on it before. he gets served a sandwich with kale on it at a restaurant and can’t eat it because it has been touched by a bug.

i like asparagus when its grilled or sautéed but at thanksgiving this year my grandma made creamed asparagus with canned asparagus and it was genuinely the worst thing i have eaten in years but it was the only side and i felt bad about only eating ham and rolls. i could go on n on about that but i will not rn unless u all want to hear ab my holiday shenanigans but i assume yall prob don’t care to hear me complain ab the menu at family dinner.

its so so cool ur from where vw is from!! u could take him on a tour of the factory and stuff i think he’d like that a lot!! take him w the whole fam and everyone is telling him ab the lore

i’m from the town where dr pepper was invented humble brag!!! there is a museum in an old bottling factory and you can go and make your own soda its sooo cool. i haven’t been since i was a kid but i love it. there’s another museum there with this mammoth exhibit, i can’t remember if these are cast replicas or if they excavated some, but there’s a display in the museum and you get to walk on top of it on this glass floor and its absolutely incredible. look at this!!!! i used to sit and analyze these fossils for as long as i could. there’s also the mammoth monument you can visit where they discovered the mammoths!! you can read about it here if ur a nerd like me

[jovianjournal]

March 2024

Should i just do one big post for novels and comics at the same time? Anyway, here's the novels i read in march, mostly SFF plus one romcom

Uprooted -- Naomi Novik, French translation by Benjamin Kuntzer

A young woman is sent to the local wizard's tower as a yearly tribute (or something like that) where she learns magic and try to discover why the forest is being weird. Very long and frankly a little boring, i had pretty high expectations and i was a bit disappointed. At first it seemed right up my alley, there were some blue beard, dark fantasy vibes... that kind of went nowhere tbh. most of the characters are extremely annoying (although i did like Agniezka as a protagonist! and her friend Kasia. it could have been gay... it should have been gay!!) and the plot felt stretched out for no reason. But i did enjoy the old folk tale aesthetic, the magic system based around rhymes was beautiful.

*

A Study in Drowning -- Ava Reid

A college student is sent to a crumbling mansion by the sea for an architecture project, alongside her academic rival, mystery ensues. The vibes were perfect, the rising sea, the damp air, the raging storm, water everywhere. I have one complain tho: I spent the Whole Goddamn Book SCREAMING at the characters "why aren't you checking this One Thing???" and as soon as they did check this one thing the mystery was resolved. so that was a little annoying.

Overall I really liked this book, i'd recommend it if you're into Dark Academia, A House as A Character, and metaphors about sexist and sexual violence. Also the writing is really pretty! i want to read other books by this author.

*

The Mars House -- Natasha Pulley

disclaimer: i love Natasha Pulley So. Much. she is probably my fav author currently, and i am very aware that she tends to always write the same book, but listen : i am autistic and i like knowing what im getting into and knowing that im going to like a story before investing the time in it.

That Being Said, i have two and a half pages of notes in my journal that boil down to "i didn't like this book as much as i hoped :/". This is a sci-fi story about immigration and xenophobia where one of the main character is a martian right-wing politician and also there's some Gender Stuff in martian society that felt a little terfy? (which is weird bc basically in this book Martian society has Abolished Gender). I still adored this book! i'd wholeheartedly recommend it! the writing is spectacular, i loved the characters, the worldbuilding is super interesting, there's fun tragic irony where you know what's going on while the characters don't, there's fricking Mammoths. Read it, and then read The Watchmaker of FIligree Street, and then read the Kingdoms, and then read all of her other books.

*

Ariah -- B. R. Sanders

I don't know how to describe this book. A 400-page character study about a Pretty Annoying Guy? I think i picked it up bc i was looking for books with polyam relationships and that's why i powered all the way through it. I actually don't remember much about the plot. It's a high fantasy story, the main character has mind powers he has trouble controlling, he's kind of a dick to his lovers, every time something important happens the narration completely glosses over it. Reading over my notes, i did like the last part of the story, and the happy end felt deserved. don't have much more to say.

*

Rosaline Palmer Takes the Cake -- Alexis Hall

Alexis Hall is another one of my comfort authors, im slowly getting through their bibliography. this one was okay! it's a great british bake off fan fiction, it was fun (but not as good as the Stucky fanfic). good banter, tropey plot. averages to and okay book.

[meowww-ffxiv]

Hilarious too that Liios's biggest fear was that someone realized he had some shit going on. Like what if they realized there was something Wrong with him?

But he was genuinely, genuinely just an average guy who's nice and earnest. If he hadn't been yanked around on the chain of destiny by Hydaelyn and sundry, Liios would just be in the Manufactory of Ishgard right at this moment making,,,, idk. The first industrial-scale bread slicer so we can make sliced bread a real invention in Eorzea soon. Or a proper cold storage so the Ishgardian rich ladies could start making those awful, awful 1800s jello recipes.

He confessed to his brother like, I'm scared they'll discover I'm a freak. And Ptolemy just showed him the picture of a moogle with fangs and horns and a kid's scribbled note on it saying "Welcome to my twisted mind >:)"

and said, "Is this an accurate reflection of your psyche?"

Family can really just destroy you on levels you never before imagined. In 1 word and 1 picture.

(once the dust has settled)

Ptolemy: I suppose my question is, what do you think is so frightening about yourself that you do not want others to see?

Liios: ...Does smiling come naturally to you?

Ptolemy: Uh. What.

Liios: There was a paper published on the possible effects of one's facial expressions on those around them. While sometimes it's inappropriate to smile, the author stated that in some situations, smiling can reduce the anxiety and stress of the person who is perceiving it.

Liios: It was very old, of course. Perhaps even disproven by now, not that I've checked. I read it while trying to learn Sharlayan script when we first moved there. And smiling really kept the wheedling worriers off my back. They stopped asking stupid shit like, "How are you today?" and "Can I help you with anything?" when they and I knew full well there was nothing to be done and I feel wretched every day.

Liios: It's worked. Confidence and a bit of friendliness and smiling keep people out of my hair. And you're right, I do like the sound of my own voice. It sounds like yours, while being mine. But now people are too expectant of this facade. No one wants to perform the same bit every time he appears in public. And it's been a bit for seventy long, long years.

Ptolemy: So you put on a show of an upbeat attitude to keep people out of your business, because -- and it is true -- that you have always been intensely private about all your hurts.

Liios: Lame, isn't it? I should've been an arsehole from the start and none of this would have happened.

Ptolemy: You fished for half a day to throw all your catches to a polar bear with cubs because Father told you that usually only one cub would survive to adulthood. If you had it in you to be an arshole, it wouldn't have been your first choice to be nice instead.

Liios: Nooo not the polar bear incident. Don't bring that up.

Ptolemy: What about the time when you healed a snow leopard instead of shooting it dead, only for it to almost maul you?

Liios: I felt bad for it. We had just brought down a mammoth, so the clan was lacking for neither meat nor hide, and thus we need not kill it. But to leave it to a slow, lamed death...

Ptolemy: I would have killed that snow leopard, you know. It could have gotten you a nicer scarf. Anyway, you weren't going to be anything but nice from the start. Ruthless, perhaps, and all of us act in terrible ways when we are angry. I don't think there is anything inauthentic about your usual attitude. You just don't have to worry about me keeling over every second of every day anymore. And if you're tired of being nice, there's always Seal Rock.

Liios: That's true. 🤔

[dollarbin]

Dollar Bin #37:

Michael Penn's March

Here's another story. Again, mostly true.

In 8th grade I got a bad case of Chicken Oak.

Never heard of Chicken Oak? It's what you get when you are a pimply, insecure and pale skinned 8th grader who is forever crazy about a girl named Anjanette and you get a bad case of poison oak from fooling around outside your grandparents' ranch house in the San Gabriel mountains, a case so bad you have to miss school and spend your days instead slathering your pubescent 90 pound body with oatmeal-type concoctions which do not help and you can't sleep for days at a time and are starting to climb out your bedroom window at 2am and wander around your neighborhood while listening to your poorly-dubbed-from-the-library copy of The Cure's Disintegration on your primitive walkman and so your parents, concerned about your illness and Robert Smith's whole vibe, take you to Urgent Care and have you shot up with steroids to utterly silence your raging immune system but, little did you or anyone else know, your younger siblings were all just exposed to the Chicken Pox and you were born in the 70's, long before there was a vaccine, and you've never had that ridiculous childhood disease, so a few days later you've added a disabled immune system's mammoth version of the pox to the oak and you're no longer a pimply and insecure 8th grader; rather you are the elephant man in a full blown teenage health crisis: one eye is literally swollen over into a giant pulsating wound and every inch of you is leaning into shivering panic.

That's the Chicken Oak, folks: a formative illness indeed.

It takes a month of living in the late 80's with the condition to discover that at 2am some vampire takes over control of MTV, removes the Fine Young Cannibals from the rotation and plays obscure stuff instead, the kind of music you'll never encounter on the Top 20 Countdown with this guy.

And that's how you discover Michael Penn.

I loved this song from the first moment I saw the video, and I spent the rest of my sleepless month with the poison poxs trying to catch it on air again.

Part of the attraction was its illusive (at least to 14 year old me) lyrics. Penn struck me as a sensitive and bashful poet with a record contract who was terribly alluring to all thoughtful ladies; but he also read deep books and sang passionately about both topics - he basically embodied my ideal future.

I knew about Romeo in a basic sense: he was one of Shakespeare's teenagers and he surely gave some big deal speeches in a play I'd never seen nor read; he was the kinda guy who climbed his lady friends' balconies and died tragically for love, just like I too might one day die for the love of sweet Anjanette, except I'd probably never see her again because I was surely disfigured for life and therefore would soon be forced to relocate to a cave in Brazil where I'd live under an assumed name and terrify children from the village.

But who the hell was Heathcliff? Judging by the video and the song's overall sweet vibe I felt pretty sure this way cooler brother to Sean wasn't singing about the Garfield rip off.

I wanted to track Michael Penn down and claim him as my new and now surely, after my month of isolation, only friend: what books should I read, Michael? How do you make your hair look so cool? Why doesn't my six string sound like yours? And is that a drum machine playing in your song? Are drum machines even ethical, Michael? Should I get black jeans? If so, where? Help me, Michael!

Before my month of misery was up I weaseled my anxious mother into going to Sam Goody without me and buying me March, Penn's debut album, on tape. Then I played it nonstop.

The whole record sounded homemade and majestic, a fitting soundtrack addition alongside the aforementioned Disintergration and Shooting Rubberbands at the Stars for the day long bikes rides I began to take as my entire face crusted over and started to harden up, like a rotten egg regrowing its shell.

Every song seemed like an entire world on its own, the melancholic yet catchy choruses waking up bits of what would become my future self. I knew what it was like to sleep on a bed of nails;

I too wanted a place in the brave new world.

I began to heal as Spring drew to a close: the sores became scabs; I was hideous and doomed, but no longer a literal danger to others. I watched midnight MTV out of habit, not necessity, and No Myth fell out of the 2am rotation.

I pictured my return to school with dread: my friends would have moved on; they were nice guys so they'd pretend to welcome me back, but I'd slip away, leaving them relieved: the disfigured can claim no place in a middle school. And so I planned to make my way to the far end of the school's middle level at breaks, the spot on campus where the deepest misfits and poor special ed kids gravitated so as to rock in place, weeping, drooling and laughing without cause. They'd be glad to have me. For the rest of my life. That cave in Brazil was just a pipe dream.

But then, miracles unfolded.

First, Michael Penn returned to MTV for a second split second. Seriously: I really believe this video was only shown once on the network. It was 2am and I was the only person watching. Join me, won't you? Let's give it its second showing of all time:

Okay, I hear you. Jimi Hendrixs Michael is not. And the actor brought in to air strum the bass is an embarrassment. And yes, there is no explanation whatsoever for the creep in the foreground, and I cannot explain any of the plot here to you.

But come on: check out that lady defying gravity! Note how nothing of substance musically occurs in the last 30 seconds; they just keep playing the same, slow and sweet keyboard hook. And admit it: Michael looks more like Hugh Grant's sibling than Sean's. Maybe there was a mix up in the hospital or something. Wow, I still really love this stuff.

When that first and only showing of the video ended I stood up, defiant. I turned MTV off and, basically, never watched it again. Suddenly it seemed like there were more important things to do.

And when I climbed on my bike a day or two later, ready for the first return to school, that same sense still surged in me. I didn't know what to call it, but it felt good. I picked up my buddy Matt on the ride in and joyfully told him to not worry about it when he asked what the plan was for, you know, explaining my face. Being a thoroughly excellent human being, he trusted me and asked no further questions.

"Yeah, I've got herpes," I happily declared to all 614 of the 8th graders who stared at me that day. "I've got it pretty bad!"

Here's a secret, Dollar Binners, a secret you are welcome to pass on to anyone you know who's still in middle school: when faced with teenage adversity it's time to go big and be weird or just fold up and whimper. I did the former, and I've tried doing it ever since.

Matt, and the few other people who mattered, stuck with me that day. In fact they thought my whole approach was pretty awesome. Together we gave up on being popular and settled for joyful instead. We turned up Michael Penn and embraced our own individual selves, scabs and all.

P.S. As you can tell from the stock photo in the opening, this is a record I don't yet own. And my 80's tape is long, long gone. Someday I will come across a copy of March in the Dollar Bin. It will be tattered and unloved, full of skips and crunches. It will be wonderful.