#lost girl 90’s years

[shironezuninja]

I wonder who was the intriguing animator who decided to make Spidey’s mask’s eyes turn green whenever his Spider Senses tingle.

[sporkberries]

Robin(1993) is a comic where things happen

[rowretro]

𝕾𝖔 𝕾𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖞

✧warnings: Yandere themes, toxic themes, unhealthy love, mentions of blood, thriller, gore, death

♡synopsis: Y/n's not afraid of the dark... maybe she might be scared of what's in the dark. The ghosts? monsters? death hunting her down ready to grab her by its fist? of course not. She's scared of her ex.... he's so scary....

✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

Y/n yawned as she walked down the creepy, dark hallways of the abandoned high school. Tables scattered here and there, blood splatters dried ones and even fresh ones, painting the ground and wall. Evidence of human life being tortured and tormented for days before being ripped into pieces and left on the ground, rotting into the floorboards. Y/n was rather more disgusted, shocked the police hasn't once come across this place... Oh wait- that's a dead officer from the 90's seems he died a few weeks ago. Why was she here exactly?

It's stupid of course. Her dear friend who had been acting weird lately, dragged her to this place, challenging her claiming she'll die of fear before the ghost even gets to her. Y/n was no idiot, denying any invitation to the murder house. Yet Angela Yin, her best friend, dragged her in, the doors shutting behind them, and jammed shut. Then Angela went missing. That's how y/n found herself wandering the empty classroom where the ugly thing was just a second ago. She groaned, grabbing a key she found as she walked toward a door that had a matching lock.

She's ran into the killer once, it left a fog of smoke, causing her trip over small thing. It's nails disgusting and long like claws, head snapped off, hanging backwards. Eyes gauged out and mouth wide open. It was disgusting. its arms reached forward, but it can only see behind itself. That helped y/n, it was so blind it didn't bother looking in the cabinet where she hid in pure silence.

Just as she was about to put the key in the lock, a thick black liquid, slid from under the door, taking over the big, thick wooden rectangle, that blocked whatever was in that room from her. She groaned, arms crossed, as her foot tapped against the tattered floor impatiently, she stared at the many creepy hands holding eyeballs and organs waving them around through the now blackened, inky door. "What do you want from my ghost?... In my 18 years the worst thing I'd ever done to hurt anyone was being sarcastic and throwing parties when I'm home alone, now did that hurt you?" she asked as the eyeballs glared right at her.

"na how bout we talk about what YOU did? kill everyone who tried to send you to a better place, figure out a crime, or at least run home to their family? I don't know why Angela dragged me here, but once I drag that bitch home she's getting it. And you listen to me. I know deep inside you know you did something wrong, hence you killed so many innocent people and are trying to haunt me. I'm not scared of you because you were once a human like me... So why don't you get out of my way, and I leave you alone if you leave me and possibly Angela alone too kay?"

Y/n said confidently as if negotiating with a person who's afraid of her. yet the thick inky liquid disappeared, and the door opened. "That's what I thought." she said, dragging her sharp rusty metal weapon along with her. Yet the doors closed, there stood Angela, eyes pure black, veins visible in her arms and face, no longer blue or purple but black. Her teeth grew sharp as she approached y/n, her bony hands wrapped tightly around y/n's neck, choking her. "Fuck- Angela- What the fuck?! stupid ghost bitch I thought I told you we had a deal." Y/n choked out.

However the girl let go of y/n impulsively, as she fainted, the ghost screaming as it was forced out of her. There she saw a sight that scared her most "Nishimura No......." she mumbled as Riki dusted himself off. "Yes.... Im back baby." he said with a smirk. She threw a table at him and rushed outside, now lost in the dark woods, there, vulnerable, and in the depths of danger, possible vampires and Werewolves that had escaped the military's hold, roaming around in need of blood. That's why she broke up with him.

"Wow babe, one way to say thank you for saving your life, and hi to your darling boyfriend" Riki's deep voice echoed as he walked out from behind the trees. She backed away from him. Her ex. Riki. She broke up with him after she saw her suck the blood of her cousin. "I told you already we're broken up." she said mustering up enough courage to at least try to sound like she was confident in her words. "No you made that decision. Not me, so sorry you're stuck with me." he said as y/n glared at him. He groaned running a hand through his hair, frustrated.

"Darling.... I only drink blood of a human when I need to, and I only suck the blood of those who do wrong in the world and you know what your cousin did to you..." he said as he gently grabbed her arm, scanning over the healing scars on her arms. She gently pulled away, feeling herself falling into his love trap yet again, like a moth to a flame. "You're not scared of my love.... you're clearly scared for me... y/n I love you and you're mine you can never change that. I don't understand why me being half demon half vampire scares you.... I'd never hurt you... you know it. They can't ever kill me, I'm practically immortal.... So please. take my hand and let me take you to OUR home." he said as he grabbed her arm... yet she pulled away roughly.

"Nishimura Riki. I may love you... but I don't trust you... I don't want you anymore.... Im over you..." she said, almost as if convincing herself, "Then you leave me no choice." He said, yanking her into his embrace, teeth stabbing into her collarbone.... He imprinted her, kissing her lovingly right after. There's no turning back now "I'll go home then-" Angela suddenly said walking toward her boyfriends car, as y/n was still dazed.

She was his now. She realized how too such perfect care of her, before their break up, and even now, as she stared at the permanent mark on her collarbone in the reflection of the mirror. She didn't find him so scary anymore. The comforting environment of his groans of annoyance every time he lost a game his comfortable room, his cologne intertwining in the air, the large white sweater that slipped off her shoulder, so comfortable as she hugged it closer to her skin, his sweater...He's not so scary after all...

✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

[zepskies]

SOLDIER BOY MASTERLIST

(**Notes 18+ only and/or smut) Stories are Soldier Boy x Reader unless otherwise noted.

Checkerboard** You’re not a supe. You’re breakable. Soldier Boy sometimes forgets that.

Wanderlust** Your wandering hands are keeping Ben up at night.

In the Dark You and Ben have tackled the insurmountable together, but no one said the recovery would be easy.

Love Actually** Ben gets in late on Christmas Eve with a Grinch-like attitude, but you’re determined to force some holiday cheer into his system.

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 - Complete

Strong As Blood** After you accidentally break through a solid wood table, you know there’s something wrong with you. You begin to have your suspicions, but can you keep it from Ben long enough to find out? 

(In other words: This is the story of how you and Ben discover that you’re pregnant.)

Part 1 || Part 2 - Complete

Until Morning A quiet moment between you, Ben, and your newborn daughter.

This One's For You Late one night, finding no other recourse, Ben sings to his infant daughter to help her sleep.

Lesson Learned** There’s only so much teasing Ben is willing to take. He has no choice but to punish you. (Sequel to This One's For You)

Green** Ben spends the day alone with his daughter, to varying degrees of success. When you get home, it prompts a serious conversation.

Calculated Risks You and Ben argue about your commitment to being a working mom. When a rogue supe gets loose at Supe Affairs, mayhem ensues, putting not only your life at risk, but your daughter’s as well.

Break Me Down** You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them.

Series Complete

Wake Me Up** A few weeks after you and Ben celebrate your first Christmas together, he is returning from another mission with the Supe Affairs team. When he discovers that you’ve been taken, he’ll do whatever it takes to find you. And then, to help you heal.

Series Complete

Lost on You** 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who's the predator, and who is prey.

Series in Progress

Soldier Boy & Halloween 🎃😈 What would Soldier Boy be like on Halloween with his girlfriend?

Repaying Soldier Boy for a job well done. 😏 How he would react to his girlfriend randomly slapping his ass.

Ben gets a little payback. 😌 How you react to your boyfriend randomly slapping you on the ass.

Taking Ben to a 90's themed club.** 🕺🏻 He doesn't want to go, but you encourage him to "loosen up."

Getting jealous.** 💚 Ben needs new clothes, but the shop girls think your boyfriend is fair game. (BMD-verse)

Ben’s reaction to his girlfriend on her period.❣️ How he takes care of you. (BMD-verse)

Playing with Soldier Boy's hair. 🧔🏻 This "head"-canon includes soft!Ben.

Soldier Boy dating a supe with siren abilities. 🧜‍♀️ He underestimates you. You give him a reason to think twice.

The way you love Ben's hands.** 👌🏼 Headcanon includes comparing hand sizes, Tarzan & Jane-style.

Headcanon:** How Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, and Soldier Boy (Ben) would react to seeing your breast reduction scars. ❤️‍🩹

Ben loses you. 💔 Includes a "twist" ending... (BMD-verse)

Talk to Me 💞 In the wake of his vivid nightmare, you confront Ben about his fears and get him to open up. [Sequel to "Ben loses you."] (BMD-verse)

Headcanon: How Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, and Soldier Boy (Ben) would make up for pissing you off. 😤

Sample the Menu 🤤 What happens when you interrupt Ben while he's cooking?

Headcanon: How Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, and Soldier Boy (Ben) would react to you teasing him under the table. 😉

Headcanon: How Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, and Soldier Boy (Ben) would react to you getting "morning" sickness during pregnancy. 🤢

Soldier Boy getting jealous... 💚🇫🇷 Of your past relationship with Frenchie.

Headcanon:** How Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, and Soldier Boy (Ben) would react to you (getting caught) wearing his clothes. 👕

Headcanon: How Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, and Soldier Boy (Ben) would act while you're in labor with his child. 🍼

Headcanon: Soldier Boy (Ben) romancing a woman of color. 💁🏽‍♀️

Jacklesverse Bingo 2024 Masterlist

The Boys Masterlist

Main Masterlist

📖 Soldier Boy Fic Recs

✍️ Writer Support:

Have you enjoyed my Soldier Boy Masterlist?

If you'd like to keep supporting me as I continue writing, you can:

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Become a Patreon Member 🌟

💌 Get Notified:

Follow @zepskieswrites (with notifications on) to get notified every time I drop a new story.

[bangaveragewhitewine]

feel the magic

Steve Harrington x Reader 

Seven days before Christmas, you find yourself stuck in a snowstorm in the middle of a city you're still finding your place in. You wait out the weather with a handsome stranger.

This prompt is from @allthingsjoeq & @bettyfrommars ❄️ Holiday Prompt Party ❄️ which was so fun! Thank you ladies for sharing these ♥️

You both rush to find shelter in a bookstore or bar during a snowstorm

Word Count: 6.6k

Contents: Set in 90’s Chicago, reader & Steve are both mid-late twenties. Nothing explicit, some kisses and mentions of arousal. Some talk of Steve’s shitty parents. No physical descriptions of reader. Steve Harrington’s charm comes with its own warning.

Note: Thank you @specialagentmonkey for proofreading and being my hype woman as always ♥️

Chicago in December was cold. Very fucking cold.

A million miles from the hot and heavy city you moved to in the summer, there was something about that bitter chill of the air, the frosted pavements and the warm glow of the Christmas lights decked across the city that made it feel like something right out of a movie. You never felt like you could relate to those leading ladies in the romantic comedies and the coming-of-age romances you grew up watching, more like some side-friend character who faded into the background, inconsequential to the plot and action.

It was your first winter in the city, your first Christmas too, and it wasn’t long before you realised that your grandma had been right - investing in a good winter coat was a must for the Windy City. Despite the cold, the shininess of your new adventure in a new city still held up, feeling like the city girl you had always dared to dream of being.  

With the holidays too close for comfort - just seven days before you caught a cab to O’Hare to make the journey home - you cashed in some of your overtime and finished work early to hit the city to get the last few presents for friends and family. 

The snow had started just before you left the office, a light dusting that made your shopping trip feel even more magical. You had carefully stowed your camera in your bag to snap shots of the big tree at Civic Centre and the lights around City Hall to show your Mom and friends at home. When the snow started to come down heavier and heavier, the fluffy fat flakes falling in the shot made it feel more magical. 

As you looked around, soaked in the festivity of it all, you thought that maybe for one day you could play pretend and let yourself feel like the glossy, confident main character of the movie in your head. 

By six o’clock the magic of it all had well worn off and you were ready to go home. Your wool winter coat kept you warm-cheeked and overheating as you waited in line in Macy’s to pay for a scarf and fancy hand cream that your Aunt would fake-smile at before tossing it to the side. It felt like years since you had stepped inside the huge store, some sort of liminal purgatory where time didn’t exist and it was far too easy to get lost amongst the shiny Christmas displays and the disorienting overstimulation of the cosmetics and fragrances department. 

Your head was surely going to explode if you heard some poor impression of Bing Crosby crooning another Christmassy jingle over the store’s speakers. You were feeling distinctly less festive and fun now - less merry and bright, more murderous and bad-tempered. 

Over the tinny muzak and the scratch of your scarf on your too-warm neck, you tuned into the conversation going on behind you.

“That snow is really coming down, huh?”

“Didn’t you hear? It’s some sorta weather-bomb - only going to get heavier.” 

You and every other shopper within earshot looked toward the windows, seeing the white flurry instead of the warm glow of Christmas lights. 

You became all too aware of the sheer number of bags you were carrying, weighed down with books and gifts and trinkets, the heft of your camera and the bottle of wine you had bought to sip when you got home. The overheated parts of you longed to be cool again, but this felt like some sort of karmic mockery. The tad-too-short-for-work skirt you had chanced and got away with that day felt minuscule beneath your coat as you imagined how cold a weather-bomb was going to be.

By the time you paid and politely refused gift-wrapping for your purchase, the snowstorm had thrown the city into chaos. Traffic was at a near standstill when you reached the front door on State Street, the sidewalks packed with shoppers and commuters battling through the snow and each other to find a way home. 

The subway entrance was one street away but seeing the pushing and shoving crowd cramming themselves underground made you feel claustrophobic, twisting hot panic in your gut. Maybe the stop before might be less crazy, you thought, hoping for a better chance of getting home sometime before midnight, so you squeezed away from the crowd and braved the worsening blizzard. 

The magic of Christmas had almost fully waned now, despite the snowball fights starting up amongst the gridlocked traffic. You just wanted to get home, feel your fingers and toes again perhaps. You picked your steps through the icy streets, trying not to slip or whack other flustered pedestrians with your bags; they didn’t have the same courtesy or kindness. Patience and Christmas cheer had worn thin, battered by heavy snow.

“Watch it!” one sharp-elbowed woman hissed over her furry coat collar as she shouldered past you, sending you off-balance just as a rogue snowball hit your shoulder. 

Had your feet not been aching so badly, you would have stamped like a toddler.

“Bitch.” Your frustrated whisper went unheard as you continued down the block, squinting to pick out a landmark to orient yourself in the snowy city. 

You tucked yourself into a side street to regroup and take a breath, attempting to condense your too-many shopping bags to protect the preciously picked-out presents inside. The welcoming glow of a bar sign caught your eye, a blinking beacon through the fluster of snow. 

Tucked away down the side street, The Snug appeared like a mirage. Twinkling Christmas lights blurred by the steamed-up windows winked at you, inviting you inside. It was fate.

Surely the snow will stop soon, you thought as you gathered yourself again. One drink and some fries would be plenty of time to let the streets and subways settle.

The cold air made your nose and lungs feel spikey-sore after a few deep steadying breaths. With your bags clutched safely in your hands, you picked your steps toward the almost-hidden bar, dodging patches of ice to get to the door. 

Inside was cosy-calm, with clusters of friends and a few fellow solo drinkers hiding from the heavy snow and chaos. It was quieter than the streets and packed subways, their chatter backed by songs queued up from a jukebox glowing in the corner. 

You squeezed yourself and your bags into a free booth, taking a load off with a sigh that pulled the tension all the way up from the tips of your toes.

Daringly, you chanced a look in your compact to assess the damage of a day of shopping and going head-to-head with the bitter cold front. Mascara smudged beneath your eyes, hair a riot. 

“Shit,” you murmured, pulling the attention from the man at the next table.

He smiled, sympathetic when he saw your flustered state. “You look like you’re in the right place.” 

After blowing hair from your face you returned a tight smile. “Thanks, I think.” 

His brown eyes widened. “Oh no, no... I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, horrified that he had offended you. 

You shook your head, “No, I get it. I look insane. It’s been a day.” Handbag in hand, you looked at him again, smiling a little softer at the flustered stranger. “Could you keep an eye on my bags for a sec? I’m just going to the ladies' room. And the bar.”

The man nodded, sitting back in his chair. “Sure, go for it. I’ll guard them with my life.” 

You didn’t miss his charming smile, or the pink tint of embarrassment that lingered on his cheeks after accidentally telling you the truth about just how crazy you looked. You caught the subtle once-over he gave you after your coat was removed and hoped that your sixty-denier tights hadn’t laddered. Your cheeks felt warm again as you made your way to the ladies' room, purse in hand to wrangle your messy hat-hair and fix your face. 

As you patted rose-tinted balm onto your lips, you quietly hoped that first impressions could be overwritten.

Armed with a glass of red wine and your receipt for a basket of fries,  you returned to your table and tried not to sigh too obnoxiously (or moan) at the relief of sitting down. At the next table, the brown-eyed man was looking over a piece of paper and tapping his pen against his full lower lip. 

“Thanks, Stranger,” you said, looking and feeling at least ten times better.

“Oh. You’re welcome,” he said, smiling distractedly before raising his half-drunk beer to you. 

You raised your glass in return, sharing that little smile with the stranger before plucking one of the new books from your cluster of bags to distract your busy mind.

Wine and a book in a cosy bar? Maybe the day had not entirely gone to shit.

The stranger went back to his list, and you tried not to let your gaze linger too long on his broad shoulders or his sharp jaw. He looked like he had just finished work, a few shirt buttons undone beneath his navy blazer, his coat and scarf bundled on the chair opposite him with one lonely Macy’s bag on top. You watched him push his honeyed hair back, raking his fingers through the strands falling over his forehead. It was easy to forget to even open your book to start reading in favour of being distracted by him.

There was no denying he was attractive. And there was no denying that you were caught looking when his brown eyes met yours and his lips twitched with a charming smile. 

“Steve.” 

“Huh?” Wide-eyed, and flushed-hot with embarrassment, you could not find a quick way to explain away your gazing. 

“You called me ‘stranger’ before. My name’s Steve.”

“Oh. Of course. Steve.” You gave him your name, watching how he smiled when you said it before repeating it as you had done with his.

“Pretty name. Guess we’re not strangers anymore.” 

“I guess not.” 

His mouth curved up as he lifted his glass again, taking a slow sip. Your eyes drifted to two perfect moles on his neck as he swallowed; they matched the twin set on his cheek.

Some sort of alarm started to scream in your head; you had forgotten the feeling of being flirted with. If that’s what this was. 

“Christmas shopping?” he asked, nodding to your bags. 

“Yeah, just about have everything,” you said, “Now I have to wrap it all.” After a steadying sip of wine as your fries arrived, you watched how he twirled his pen between thick fingers, names left uncrossed on the paper in front of him. “Are you stuck?”

Steve slumped back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head before running his fingers through his hair again, making it messy in the most artfully effortless way.   “Yeah, a little.” He rubbed his face before looking at you again. “Um, can I pick your brains? I don’t wanna impose…” 

This was never how your day was supposed to go. As the snowstorm raged on outside, inside the cosiness of the bar felt like a whole other world miles from your planned evening of gift-wrapping and most of a bottle of wine. Instead, surrounded by soggy shopping bags, you found yourself with the attention of an Adonis-like stranger. You felt like it was some sort of fair deal from the universe.

When you made the move to the city, started afresh with this new chapter, you made yourself promise to take life as it came and not be too uptight. Maybe this was all part of the flow you had vowed to go with…

Smiling at Steve, you pushed your unopened book to the side and leaned forward on your arms, “Sure. Go for it.”

Steve relocated to your booth after a few minutes of chatting. An hour and a half later, he had made himself at home opposite you with his bright smile and dreamy dark eyes. 

The bar had become a refuge to a few more bodies seeking shelter from the bitter cold front raging outside. He didn’t need much convincing to share your booth, freeing up the table for a couple huddled together over hot whiskies.

You had insisted on sharing your fries with Steve as you gave suggestions on what he could buy for the last few names on his list. A second basket and another round of drinks had been ordered on his tab when you realised that neither of you would be going home any time soon.

With a greasy-hot fry between your fingers, you tried not to drool over his thick forearms as he rolled up his shirtsleeves, and went back to navigating Steve’s complex network of friends-turned-family.

“So he’s your ex-girlfriend’s little brother? And you stayed friends… because he’s friends with Dustin…? Who’s like your brother?” 

As you figured out who the hell ‘Mike’ was, Steve nodded encouragingly and chewed another fry.

“You got it.” His straight white teeth glinted in the warm light of the bar.

“And his sister - Mike’s sister, your ex-girlfriend, Nancy… Is Robin’s girlfriend now? Robin, your best friend?” 

“Yep. See, told you you’d wrap your head around it eventually.” His smile was proud as he nudged the fries your way again. 

You took two more fries as your reward before nudging the basket back to Steve. You tried not to focus on the way the fries had left his lips shiny, or the pink glow on his cheeks when he caught you staring. Again. 

When you realised that this serendipitous stranger who gave you butterflies wasn’t someone else’s boyfriend, you dropped your shoulders and your guard and relaxed into the booth more. You willed yourself to relax, to go with the flow. It was not difficult to let yourself sink deeper into those warm brown eyes of Steve’s as he slowly upped his flirtations and snuck his own barely subtle glances at your lips. 

He was smooth.

Steve tapped the paper list with his finger, transferring more salt and oil from the fries to the now annotated and doodled-on list. 

“So, any suggestions? He’s the hardest one to buy for, so of course I got him for Secret Santa. Again.” He leaned his head back against the booth. “He’s a little dweeb. Big dweeb now. Taller than me.”

He spoke with such fondness of the kid he swore didn’t like him. It wasn’t difficult to figure out that Steve was maybe one of the most thoughtful people you had ever met. Most of what you had learned about him had been through what he told you about his friends - where he grew up, his collection of poorly paid jobs after high school before going to college in Indianapolis, then onto Chicago. His best friends were never far behind. He would be spending the Holidays with friends and their families instead of his own, which he seemed perfectly fine about. 

He was funny too, heavy-handed with charm and kindness. You were definitely done for.

Steve Harrington seemed like an enigma, one you would happily devote hours and hours to figuring out.

The basket fries were pushed back and forth and you wracked your brains to think of a gift for this random college kid you didn’t know. The barman announced that the snow was still coming down heavily, and to make yourselves at home. You had lost all track of time, cosy in the bubble of the booth with your new friend.

His brown eyes fixed on you as he rested his chin in his hand. “All you wanted was a quiet drink and a place to hide from the snow, and now you’re helping some dork with his shopping list. M’sorry, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. The butterflies in your gut swooped.

Warm-cheeked, you shrugged, “I don’t mind. It’s distracting me from panicking about how I’ll get home, or if I’ll ever get home. I’m still figuring out the subways.” Picking at the crisp ends of the fries, you tried not to get lost looking into his shiny amber eyes. “I was only going home to wrap presents anyway.” 

Steve smiled when you mirrored him, cheek resting on your hand. 

“I think this isn’t such a bad way to spend the evening, Steve.”

A pink glow - not entirely from his beer - warmed Steve’s face and he looked down at his almost empty glass. You would think he was being bashful had there not been a grin spreading on his handsome face. 

“Oh, you’re trouble.” 

You shrugged, attempting to play coy. “What were you supposed to be doing tonight? What are you missing to be here with some strange girl?”

Steve shrugged. “Well, I was Christmas shopping, like you. Killing time. I was supposed to meet my buddy for dinner and drinks, came in to use the phone to cancel when the snow got bad. I’ll catch up with him tomorrow.”

“A buddy on your list?” You asked, nodding to the piece of paper.

“Mhm. Eddie. He didn’t mind too much, I’ll make it up to him.” He sipped his drink again.  “He has a gig tomorrow night, so I’ll see if I can help with lifting amps and shit.”

“He’s the heavy metal guy?” you asked, remembering back to Steve labelling him as so easy to buy for.

Steve had not smiled so much in weeks, maybe months. With you, tucked away in The Snug, he basked in the ache in his cheeks, the way you laughed, how you remembered little things about him and his friends. 

“I hope these friends of yours realise how much you love them, Steve.”

He liked that blunt edge of your delivery too. 

You watched him fluster a little for the second time that evening.

“I do mean that. You’re putting so much of yourself into these presents, not just… I don’t know, throwing money at stuff. There’s so much thought in all of these.” You tapped the paper for emphasis, recognising a little of yourself in the way Steve put thought into his gifts for the ones he loved. 

You knew the sting of that thoughtfulness not being returned, or even noticed. 

Watching Steve flounder, seeing him resonate with your assessment, you felt a sinking stone in your chest. Too much. Too far. He was still a stranger, a stranger you were practically snowed in with and had probably developed some sort of cabin-fever-bond with, and you had to push it. 

“Sorry. Shit. Steve, I should just shut up. I don’t know you, or your friends. I would be so mad if some stranger just-”

His hand, his much bigger, warmer hand, reached for yours and squeezed. 

“Stop. It’s okay.” Steve squeezed again, his palm warm as it curved around your hand. “What you said, it’s true. I.. Shit.” He smiled, a sadness in his eyes you had not seen and blamed yourself for, “Here I am dumping my baggage on you.” 

Steve sighed but didn’t let your hand go. You didn’t mind; you didn’t want him to.

“My parents just threw money at gifts for me. Totally impersonal shit I didn’t need, or want. They didn’t know me or what I liked, all for appearances and shit like that.” You watched soft fondness pull at the corner of his mouth. “So I put thought into stuff for my friends. They’re my family now. They annoy the hell out of me some days, but I want them to know… I dunno, that I listen. That I hear them. And see them, what they like…”

He trailed off when you turned your hand beneath his and squeezed.

“That’s the sweetest, Steve. They’re very lucky to have you.” Your voice was a gentle murmur, loud enough for him to hear.

He shrugged, playing smooth again despite the reality check he had been dealt. “M’the lucky one. They’re buttheads, but they have my back too. Promise.” 

You nodded and tried not to flush when you looked at your joined hands. 

“Tell me something about you then, Steve… I don’t even know your last name. What’s your favourite colour?” 

He smiled again, back on some new track now after that detour to the trauma dump. “I like yellow. I usually say blue, because when I say yellow people look at me like I’m crazy or somethin’. Yellow. Definitely.”

It clicked then, the warmth of his smile and his presence glowed like yellow sunshine and the golden bulbs of Christmas lights that could warm up the most frigid places. Warm like melted butter on toast and the glow of the lamp beside your bed for reading late into the night. It made you feel warm despite the winter cold.  

“And it’s Harrington. Steve Harrington.”

“Yellow suits you, Steve Harrington.” 

You and Steve moved on to clove-heavy hot whiskies as you traded questions back and forth, learning about each other little by little. You found it hard not to fall a little bit in love with him as he became less of a stranger to you. 

He played basketball in school and swam competitively. His favourite films were Top Gun and Dirty Dancing. He preferred pancakes over waffles and didn’t like bacon on his burgers. You spoke briefly about what you did for work and focused instead on trivial things that showed each other the real you, the real Steve Harrington. 

What’s your middle name? 

Best Halloween costume? 

Most important question ever, crunchy or smooth?

He was as close to perfect as you had ever dreamed someone could be. 

Two middle names, Henry Michael. 

Maverick, or Sandy from Grease - don’t ask, I’m not drunk enough. 

Crunchy, duh. Have you tried it with honey instead of jelly?

A tiny cynical part of you waited for something about him to dislike. You could have kept waiting, kept wondering, but instead you decided to relent to the simple serendipity of it all. Maybe there was nothing to dislike about Steve (Henry Michael) Harrington, and that was perfectly okay.  

You sat alone at the table, watching Steve’s broad back as he leaned against the bar to get change for the jukebox. That golden glow of his made him like the North Star in the business of the bar; simultaneously exciting you and making you deliciously nervous. 

The first couple of people left the bar to bravely trek home through the mean cold streets a little after nine, promising to call to let the bar staff know they got back safe and advise whether others should stay or chance the journey home. Everyone had agreed to a lock-in until morning if the snow didn’t stop or if the conditions got too dangerous. 

You all waited on a collective breath for the phone to ring; drinks flowed, and conversations continued and deepened over strong drinks. Feeling comfortably blurred around the edges, the spirits stayed high despite the less-than-perfect circumstances.

The shrill ringing of the phone behind the bar pulled the air from the room, silence fell. 

Home safe. The barman gave a thumbs up and relayed the message that the streets were walkable, a few taxis were running if you were lucky to catch one. 

Steve’s searching gaze found yours as everyone else cheered. The bubble had burst. 

His smile was a little sad, matching yours despite the good news that you could actually go home. He held up a finger, ‘one sec’, and darted to the jukebox with his handful of change to queue up some songs before you had to say goodbye. 

Goodbye. 

You didn’t want to say goodbye to Steve Harrington. 

A heavy weight settled in your chest as you took stock of your bags, distracting yourself until Steve settled himself across from you again. His hand patted the smooth table top twice, head tilted to look at your face. 

“Y’okay?” he asked. “Guess it’s good that we don’t need to sleep here tonight..?”

“Mhm. Definitely. Just… trying to figure out how long it’s going to take me to get home,” you said, not totally a lie. Your smile didn’t meet your eyes, even though you looked forward to getting into your cosy bed with the brushed cotton bedsheets and your fuzzy flannel pyjamas.

“Me too. What way are you headed?” Steve said, an innocent glimmer of hopefulness in his eyes. 

When you told him where you lived he nodded. “M’not far from there. I’d… really like to walk you home, if that’s okay? Or try to find a cab…We could share?” Steve rambled a little,  his smooth exterior cracking. “Fuck it. I want to make sure you get home safe, and I like talking to you. A little part of me was hoping we’d get snowed in or something so stupid so I could spend more time with you.” 

You looked at him across the table, wide-eyed as your heart hammered in your chest. 

“Is that crazy of me? I’m coming on way too strong, aren’t I?” 

“Steve.”

You smiled, taking his hand. “That would be really great. I kinda hoped the same. I’d like it if you walked me home.”

His smile was blinding as he took your hand between both of his, warm and large. “Okay, great. Cool.” 

“Cool,” you echoed, placing your other hand on top of his like a stack as you tried not to giggle or kick your feet.

The familiar opening chords of Old Time Rock and Roll played from the jukebox, making you both grin wider at each other. 

“It’s a classic, I couldn’t not put it on,” he said.

You threw your head back, laughing happily as Steve murmur-sang along with Bob Seger, bobbing his head as he crooned quietly for you. You knew about the scar on his arm from when he recreated that scene at a party; slid too hard, right into his mother’s second-favourite vase as his friends cheered him on (then drove him to the ER).

“Don’t tell me you put something from Dirty Dancing on next, Steve,” you teased, seeing his eyes sparkle with a sly sweetness. “Steve!”

Your laugh made him feel tingly-warm all over.

“It’s not Time of My Life or She’s Like the Wind, promise,” he said, smirking as he kept his cards close to his chest. “Promise. We can go when it’s over.  If you’re ready to head out?”

You nodded, squeezing his hands before rooting in your bag for your gloves. Knowing that you didn’t have to part ways just yet made the idea of being out in the cold a little more tolerable.

“You been taking photos of the lights?” Steve asked, picking up your camera from the table after taking it out of your bag. 

He remembered that ‘new in town’ excitement, still had the photos of him with Robin in front of the tree at Civic Centre (fresh-faced and pink-cheeked after too much mulled wine). The big tree had been nothing on their own lovably wonky tree in their tiny apartment, decorated with cheap baubles and coloured lights and tinsel that shed so much . 

“Yeah, to show my Mom. Super cheesy, I know,” you rolled your eyes and watched as Steve turned it so carefully in his hands. “Might get some snaps of the snow, to remember tonight.”

As Steve nodded, an idea bobbed to the surface of your mind. 

“Steve? Feel free to say no but… Could I get one of us? To remember…”

As if you would ever forget the night you met Steve Harrington. 

Steve watched your teeth sink into your lower lip, let his eyes linger before catching your eyes. You saw the whiskey-brown disappear, swallowed by deep black pupils. 

“Only if you get me a copy of it.”

His voice was low, smooth, and made your thighs squeeze - not for the first time that evening either. Without saying as much, you knew it meant he would like to see you again, that he didn’t want to forget you either.

You kept your voice remarkably cool and calm, despite the urge to squeal and kick your feet. “Yeah. Of course…” 

He winked before leaning over to catch the attention of the woman at the next table, checking with you before he passed your camera to her with that bright charming smile of his.

The woman directed you both to lean in a little across the small booth table, taking her task very seriously. “You two look great! So cute!” she said, beaming behind the camera.

The opening bars of Hungry Eyes started up as she counted down. 

It made the perfect picture; Steve grinning as he watched a giggle burst from your smiling lips. Your head was spinning, your heart beating hard in your chest - when you looked at that photo in years to come, you would never forget that feeling.

He thanked the woman and took the camera back as you soaked the lyrics in, thinking of Steve instead of Swayze. As you tucked the camera away, you realised that the song said more than either of you were brave enough to say out loud.

I feel the magic between you and I…

When your glasses were empty, when the butterflies had settled again, you began to wrap yourselves in your scarves and coats, hats and gloves, and gather your bags and belongings before braving the cold together. 

The warmth in your bones from the bar was quickly extinguished by the bitter air outside, though you couldn’t pretend that the snow was not beautiful. A little post-apocalyptic perhaps, but beautiful nonetheless. 

“Fuck, that’s cold,” Steve hissed, his words turning to vapour as you set off together, leaving footprints side by side in the crunchy snow. 

“No shit,” you teased, giggling at Steve’s scowl.

The combination of frigid air and the alcohol in your blood made you feel delightfully dizzy. Steve’s hair was crushed beneath his beanie hat, the longer ends peeking out beneath between his turned-up coat collar and scarf. Something about how much hair he could squeeze under that fine (expensive) knit hat made you feel terribly fond and giddy about it. 

“Okay, smartass. You were such a nice girl in the bar,” he tutted, teasing you back. 

“Tricked you,” you shrugged, “I was never nice.” Your chattering teeth make your playful quips much less believable - as if Steve couldn’t see right through you. 

“C’mere. Stick by me, we’ll either stay warm or freeze together.” Hooking a hand around your arm, Steve pulled you close to share body heat. Closer than you had been in the bar, body to body, you found that you fit nicely under his arm. Spicy-warm notes of his cologne mixed with whispers of cigarette smoke buried deep in the wool of his coat.

You smiled up at him, a shiver of nervousness down your spine as you realised you were alone together - actually alone now - for the first time.

“This okay?” he asked, pink nose matching his cheeks as he steered you both through the snow. 

“Yeah,” you said, smiling back. With your arm wrapped around the thickness of his torso, you squeezed gently and hoped he could feel it through the winter layers. His grin told you he did. 

You walked in silence for a while, carrying the weight of ‘when can I see you again?’ and ‘please tell me you feel that spark too?’ with all of your shopping bags. 

“Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah?” His eyes shone, sparkled with something when he looked down at you.

“We still haven’t figured out a present for Mike…”

Steve hung his head, eyes squeezed shut as your feet slowed down. “This fuckin’ kid.”

He lifted his head after sighing so hard you swore he was going to turn inside out. 

“Mike Wheeler is going to be the death of me, I swear to god,” he said, speaking up to the sky. “He’s getting a Sam Goody gift card. Done. I don’t care anymore.” 

“Steve Harrington, you can’t pussy-out and get him a gift card,” you tutted, leaning your weight against him to make him swerve.

The way Steve’s laugh echoed through the empty snow-capped streets made your heart flutter. “You did not just accuse me of being a pussy. You’re breaking my heart here, baby.”

When he looked down at you, eyes sparkling with mirth rather than genuine hurt from your playful betrayal, you could not miss how his tongue darted out to wet his pretty pink lips. 

Baby echoed in your ears, warming you from the inside.

“You cannot get him a gift card.” Voice quiet and insistent, you squeezed him again, “Think, Steve.”

“I am.” Played-up-pathetic, Steve’s whiney voice made you double-take and giggle at him. “He’s impossible.” 

“No one is impossible. Tell me what he likes again. Don’t say ‘nerd shit’, Steve.”

Steve rolled his eyes and you poked his ribs, far too cosy and familiar with the man who was a stranger just a few hours ago.

“Dungeons and Dragons, weed,” he listed, “He writes stuff sometimes, films, uh… Taco Bell?” 

“He likes films too?”

“Mm. Studying film. Wants to be a screenwriter or somethin’...”

You hummed and looked up at the clear sky for an answer. “How about… a framed film poster?”

“Say more.” Steve looked down at you, prettier than the stars ever could be. 

You forced yourself not to look at his lips, knowing you were a weak tipsy woman at heart. “Well, what’s his favourite film? Posters are pretty easy to find, a nice-ish frame. Slap a bow on it, Merry Christmas, Mike.” 

Padded fingers tapped your upper arm as Steve thought, wracking his brains. “When they were kids, they dressed up as Ghostbusters for Halloween. Recreated it this year. Oh, you’re a fuckin’ genius!” 

Steve squeezed you tight against his side, and with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes, scooped you up with admirable ease to spin around in the snow. 

“Steve!” your voice was an undignified yelp, cracked with laughter. 

“You’ve saved Christmas!” Steve’s smiling face was brighter than any Christmas lights guiding your path home. Still turning with you, slower now and more careful, he rested his forehead against yours and murmured, “You’re some kinda miracle, baby.” 

Steve’s warm whiskey-tinted words whispered over your mouth. Your breath was caught, choked in a gasp in your throat, as he slowed down his spinning to ease you down onto the snowy empty road. Arms still wrapped around each other, shopping bags crushed and be-damned, you stood toe to toe just looking at each other. 

“Can I..?” Quietly smooth and charming, Steve’s eyes dipped to your lips. 

Instead of giving him an answer, using your words like a big girl, you grabbed a handful of his coat to bring your mouths together in a kiss. 

Christmas lights twinkled above you, like movie magic or fairy dust. Lips pressed and lingered, kisses slow and sweet. It was everything you dreamed it would be, better even as Steve hauled you closer still and traced his nose against yours. 

Smiling, breaths warming each other’s faces, you let Steve lead the next kiss - after all he had asked so nicely. One gloved hand on your cheek, his lips slotted with yours before he deepened the kiss with a tenderness that made your bones ache. Had he not been holding you so close, had you not been moored safely in the circle of his arms, you would have surely swooned.

His kisses warmed you, sending sparks through your limbs as his tongue grazed yours with a promise of more. You felt his lips tug and smile in response to the tiny gasping noise that escaped from your throat. Slowly, so sweetly, he kissed the side of your mouth and up to the warm apple of your cheek. 

“Wanted to do that all night,” he murmured, making sure you were steady to stand before peeling away slightly. 

“Me too.” You grinned, a giggle barely held behind your teeth. “Knew you were looking at my lips.”

“Oh yeah? Should’ve kissed you sooner then.” A smiling peck pressed to your lips as your reward, your gold star for being so observant, before you righted and reoriented yourselves for the rest of the walk home.

With most of your bags in Steve’s steady hand (the one that was not keeping you close to his side), you trekked together toward home as more frosty flakes fell from the dark night sky. 

The heat of your kiss had melted something more between you, both relieved that you weren’t the delusional one, that you both felt that same something. 

Without much traffic, meeting only a few other pedestrians trekking home in the snow, it felt like the journey was about to end far too soon. You passed and pointed out the place where you got your photo-film developed, your favourite diner, Steve’s favourite coffee place which happened to be by the bookstore you liked. 

“I don’t wanna be presumptuous,” Steve said, “But I’d love to see you again.” He looked down at your face, feeling his heart beat harder. “I’ve never met someone like you… Y’know, when you click right away?”

“I’d like that, Steve. I’d like that so much.” Butterfly wings fluttered hard in your chest as you watched his smile melt onto his handsome face. “Anyway, I want to know how that Secret Santa goes down.” 

His grin was brighter than the snow. “You have full credit for that, honey.” Smiling lips kissed your forehead, just where your hat ended. He had scribbled his number on a clean napkin back at the bar, tucked it in his pocket to slip to you if (when) you said yes to seeing him again. 

You let yourself lean into him, nuzzling his cologne-and-smoke-spiced arm before sighing. With your door in sight, you took a breath and made yourself be brave. 

“This is me, just up here.” 

You spotted the recognition on Steve’s face. This was goodnight - at least it wasn’t goodbye.

“We’re not so far from each other. I’m like.. Five blocks that way.” He pointed off to the left, somewhere you did not bother to follow in favour of looking up at Steve. 

Now or never. This didn’t have to be goodnight… 

“Hey, so I don't love the idea of you out here on your own in the snow. What if you freeze into an ice cube, or slip and crack your head?” 

As your teeth grazed your lower lip, you watched his cheek pulse as he tried not to smile at your dreamed-up worries. Your own smile was barely hidden, ducked briefly behind your thick scarf. 

“Huh. I didn’t think of that.” Steve bobbed his head, faux-thoughtful as he considered his next steps. “Pretty perilous…”

“Christmas would be cancelled…” You bit the inside of your cheek. 

“Oh shit, you think?” his brows raised beneath his beanie, a knowing smile gave him away. You couldn’t possibly match Steve’s smooth charm. 

You took a little breath in before asking the question you both knew the answer to.

“So, you might… You could stay the night? With me. If you want to.”

Steve measured himself and tried not to be too eager at the thought of more time with you, more kisses. “You sure?” he asked, glancing up at your building before looking right back at you. 

You nodded slowly, smiling when you spotted the fresh snowflakes on his lashes, dusted over his broad shoulders too. “Mmhm. I’m sure.” 

Steve smiled, closing the gap between you to kiss you again as the snow fell. “Then I’ll stay.” 

Thank you for reading💙 Likes, reblogs and comments are loved, cherished and stored in a little locket 💙

[animatedglittergraphics-n-more]

RIP, AIM: Remembering how we used to talk on the internet

A eulogy for AOL Instant Messenger, and how it changed the way we talk about games and everything else By Luke Winkie published December 15, 2017

Do you remember all the souls you've lost to the internet? Those incidental friendships, forged in IRC clients, Newgrounds forums, 40-man Ragnaros wipes, scattered across the globe when the web was young? They came into your life and played Fall Out Boy over Ventrilo. They came into your life and disappeared forever. Do you remember when snapping a selfie required a frustrating tangle of mechanical coercion, but it was worth it to show them your face? When real-life names were rarefied information shared exclusively through digital blood pacts? AIM shut down today, and the only thing I can think about is how all of those people still exist somewhere, perhaps exploring the same pit in their stomach that I am.

AIM belongs to all of us. As a pioneering force of internet communication, anyone born in the early '90s or late '80s has spent some time on the platform. As a 26-year old, I'm crucially aware that my appreciation for the prodigal instant messenger is colored by a nostalgia that has nothing to do with the service itself. It was simply the medium of choice to grouse about homework, The Decemberists, girls I liked, and the rest of my random bullshit. 

But I do believe that there's a special union between AIM and people who grew up playing games, or at least came of age on the internet with people who played games. The early millennium revolutions in online multiplayer pitted us together and asked us to collaborate, so of course we carried those early internet accords to their logical extremes—talking all night in lonely chat boxes about what's cool, what sucks, and how easy it is to relate. In 2017, the web feels less like something I approach for those connections, and more like an overwhelming ennui that I'm constantly trying to outrun. Boston's Kyle Seeley nailed that feeling perfectly with 2015's Emily is Away, and this year's sequel Emily is Away Too—both of which transport you back to the spongy leather office chairs of your parents' computer room.

"AIM was primarily for one-on-one conversations between teenagers. That's how I used AIM, to have a very intimate conversation with another person. Now we have texting and Facebook messenger, but you can use those wherever you are," he says. "You can use those at a concert or while driving. But when you were using AIM, you were sitting down at a computer to talk to people. You had their undivided attention." 

Emily is Away tributes AIM in the only way anyone can—spinning a yarn of disentranced high-school drama that eventually mounts into something deeply sad. The way Seeley presents an old Windows XP desktop, with the hilariously temperamental tastes of your idiot friends revealing themselves in their bios and away messages (until one day they stop logging on entirely) is immediately resonant. We've all had our Emilys. "When you have a conversation on the phone, you spend 10 minutes making small talk," says Seeley. "On AIM you talk to someone for hours. Like eight hours, 10 hours straight. You get all the small talk out of the way in the first hour, and then you're talking about these big teenager questions. Who am I? Who do I want to be? I think AIM was really good at that."

It was always difficult for me to articulate the intimacy I felt with my internet friends to my parents. There were the obvious, mechanical mistranslations; I begged my mother for early exits from countless family dinners that consistently managed to interfere with my guild's crucial Molten Core attempts. But beyond that, there was a certain shame in feeling loved and valued by people I only knew by username. A latent fear that those who did not understand might consider that affection to be false, or even sinister. That's different now, as social media has flattened out our offline/online dichotomy, but if you were on AIM, you probably remember how once upon a time those bonds felt illegal.

Years ago Nina Freeman, level designer at Fullbright and one of the foremost thinkers on love and technology, launched a flat-out covert campaign to get close with one of those friends. She spent months locked in the holy matrimony of Final Fantasy XI and nightly AIM treatises with a boy named Glenn from New York City. Eventually they met, but not before Freeman satisfied her aunt, (who she was staying with) with a fabricated narrative—Glenn was no longer a dude from the internet, now he was just an old family friend who happened to move east. "I was still in high school," says Freeman. "We made up that whole story."

That secrecy is immediately familiar to me. AIM was surreptitious, clandestine. A service that belonged to teenagers, sequestered from leering ears and concerned authority figures. As Freeman notes, a screen name was one of the few commodities a young person could fully own. A domain, an aesthetic, a communication channel you could control. It was rare to feel fully untethered from your parents, so you guarded that sliver of liberty with your life.

"I wouldn't hand out [my username] lightly," explains Freeman. "I'd only really do it with people I felt close enough with. It seems sort intimate. It was a 'thing' to add someone on AIM. The expectation would be that if we're adding each other, we're going to chat regularly.… It had a weight to it."

Cecilia D'Anastasio, senior reporter at Kotaku (and a friend of mine) went a step further. As an 11-year-old, she was already griefing in the multiplayer Flash games she shared with her friends over AIM. I don't think anything sums up the juvenile euphoria of instant messaging quite like using that power to cheat in stakes-free freeware.

"One of the Flash games I discovered was basically Pictionary, but online and with a chat room. One player would etch out an image in a Microsoft Paint-like interface while the chat would dutifully guess at what it could possibly be. It was very wholesome," says D'Anastasio. "That's why my friend June and I were passionate about cheating. We'd join a game on the same team. Over AIM, we'd tell each other what we were assigned to draw, instructing whoever was guessing to wait a solid ten seconds before revealing the answer. It was a riot. We always won."

Over the past decade or so AIM has slowly been replaced with services that de-emphasize traditional internet patois. Gchat and Twitter are all full of real names and faces instead of coded handles and custom-colored text, and logging in to most platforms scarcely takes more than a click on a Facebook icon. For the most part, this is a good thing. Anonymity is one of the scourges of online culture—a de facto institution that continues to cause a lot of people pain. Personally though, I can't help but feel like we've lost something along the way. There was a certain sublimity in typing from behind the guise of a username. It gave way to a feeling that your AIM conversations existed in some sort of permissive, alternative reality, the ideal spot to work up the nerve for swollen 3 am confessions. In 2017 there is no such thing as "IRL" anymore; your internet presence is permanently married to your day-to-day existence. Everyone on earth spends their waking hours waging wars and making peace with strangers they will never meet. It is overwhelming and insoluble, and there are moments where I wish I could get outside again.

I'm not the only person that feels this way, and there are some people working to restore the parts of the mid-aughts internet that worked. When I interviewed Jason Citron, CEO of Discord, earlier this year, he affirmed a deep appreciation for AIM, and believed that perhaps the online infrastructure might soon swing back in that direction. "When you zoom out and think about the internet and how communication is trending, there's definitely a trend to more live experiences," he said. "The internet has done so much to connect people asynchronously, so I think there's something more macro happening that Discord is taking part in. It's like we're bringing it back to how it used to be."

He's right. One of the things that's made Discord successful is how separated it feels from the rest of the internet. When you join an ultra-specific channel—for niche Hearthstone formats or fan-favorite Persona characters—it's like you're uncovering a league of obsessives that are ready to welcome you with open arms. The true solidarity of dorkiness. It's funny, but by holding back on cosmopolitan design choices (like Facebook integration or a required photo-reel), Cintron stumbled into a scheme that evokes the furtive splendor that made AIM special. This is something Nina Freeman found when she started up a Discord channel to support her growing Twitch following. "It quickly became a community, and now I have a bunch of newer online friends. I'm already cracking up at myself as I'm wondering what they look like, or what they do in real life," says Freeman. "It definitely has a similar appeal." 

If Discord doesn't quite meet your personal instant messaging standards, Citron tells me that, if enough people in the community request it, he'd consider implementing the low-res AIM chimes into the service. You know, door creak, door slam, those disruptive MIDI twinkles. "To this day, that sound still triggers my desire to hop online," he says.  

Kyle Seeley is doing something similar. Yesterday he released a piece of DLC for Emily is Away Too that reskins Steam Chat to look exactly like AIM circa 2006. He spared no expense; you can change your text color, drop in vintage, blocky emoticons, and create your own custom profile so you can tell the world that Warped Tour will never die. "It's a farewell to AIM," he says. As one gaming's foremost nostalgia artists, it'd be wrong if he didn't say goodbye.

Now the AIM generation is old enough to both intellectualize their wistfulness, and use the lessons they learned from the service to create for the today's teenagers. To facilitate affection and respect on the internet, to show them what it looks like. We were the first to taste love on the web, at a time when those feelings had no context or guidance, and I hope that AIM helped create a baseline for young people and the midnight communion with those across the screen. The liberation that comes with knowing that the internet friendships you cherish are just as valid and wonderful as you think they are—these stories matter, because they help light that path. Lord knows I needed it, and I'm sure you did too.

Luke Winkie

Contributing Writer

Luke Winkie is a freelance journalist and contributor to many publications, including PC Gamer, The New York Times, Gawker, Slate, and Mel Magazine. In between bouts of writing about Hearthstone, World of Warcraft and Twitch culture here on PC Gamer, Luke also publishes the newsletter On Posting. As a self-described "chronic poster," Luke has "spent hours deep-scrolling through surreptitious Likes tabs to uncover the root of intra-publication beef and broken down quote-tweet animosity like it’s Super Bowl tape." When he graduated from journalism school, he had no idea how bad it was going to get.

[1americanconservative]

I arrived at the address and honked the horn. After waiting a few minutes I honked again. Since this was going to be my last ride of my shift I thought about just driving away, but instead I put the car in park and walked up to the door and knocked.. 'Just a minute', answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor.

After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 90's stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940's movie.

By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets.

There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

'Would you carry my bag out to the car?' she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman.

She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb.

She kept thanking me for my kindness. 'It's nothing', I told her.. 'I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother to be treated.'

'Oh, you're such a good boy,’ she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address and then asked, 'Could you drive

through downtown?'

'It's not the shortest way,' I answered quickly..

'Oh, I don't mind,' she said. 'I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice.’

I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. 'I don't have any family left,' she continued in a soft voice.. ‘The doctor says I don't have very long.' I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.

'What route would you like me to take?' I asked.

For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator.

We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.

Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, 'I'm tired. Let's go now'.

We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico.

Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move.

They must have been expecting her.

I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

'How much do I owe you?' She asked, reaching into her purse.

'Nothing,' I said.

'You have to make a living,' she answered.

'There are other passengers,' I responded.

Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly.

'You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,' she said. 'Thank you.'

I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light.. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life..

I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day,I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?

On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life.

We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments.

But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.

PEOPLE MAY NOT REMEMBER EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID, OR WHAT YOU SAID ~BUT~ THEY WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER HOW YOU MADE THEM FEEL.

At the bottom of this great story was a request to forward this - I deleted that request because if you have read to this point, you won't have to be asked to pass it along you just will...

Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here we might as well dance.

[bingbongsupremacy]

Pt. 2

Pairing: Father! Eddie Munson x reader

Warnings: I have never been on a tour bus. I've done a bit of research so I have an idea of what they look like. The bus portions might not be completely accurate, especially since they're supposed to be from the 1980-90's. Sorry if it's not 100% accurate. Also swearing.

Series Summary: Years ago you and Eddie used to be friends. After you graduated, you two fell out of contact. After years of not speaking to each other, Eddie offers you a job you can't resist; be a nanny for his little girl.

Part Summary: It's time to start your new job; nannying for the child of a rock star.

*Not Proof Read*

Tag List: @maskofmirrors @saucypeanuttt @hugdealer

Pt.1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3

******

Was this a good idea?

I stare up at the large bus looming over me. It casts a shadow over my body, leaving me feeling cold.

Can I handle this? I've never been away from Hawkins for longer than a few months. What if something goes wrong? What if I get fired?

" You can come in, ya know. " Eddie's voice startles me.

I look over at the previously empty door frame. Eddie's chest and head peek past the shiny black door frame. His style hasn't changed a bit. Still the same old Eddie.

Or is it?

" I promise we don't bite. " Eddie's voice is playful. It's comforting. Familiar.

" I hope. I'm really not interested in getting rabies anytime soon. " I joke back, trying to shake off the uneasiness. Eddie wouldn't hurt me. Not with his kid on board. Plus, I grew up with the other guys. They might look scary but I could beat their asses if it really came down to it.

Eddie's laugh is exactly the same. Warm and smooth, something that's so easy to listen to and get lost in. Something you want to hear over and over again.

Eddie moves out of the way so I can get onto the bus. " I was worried you got lost. Sorry I couldn't pick you up today. Rose decided it was the perfect day to get get marker on every possible portion of her skin. "

I let out a small laugh at the sight of Eddie's slightly frustrated sigh. " Oh no. "

He cracks a small smile. " Don't worry, I was able to get it all off. She's slightly less green now. I hope it wasn't too stressful getting here. "

As he talks Eddie leads me towards the back of the bus.

This place if fucking huge. I mean, they are global rockstars. Why wouldn't it be?

I had no idea a bus could hold this much stuff. It's basically a mini apartment. Everything looks brand new. The leather couches are glossy and luxurious, something I definitely couldn't afford on my own.

" It wasn't that bad. It's kinda hard to miss a huge bus in the middle of Hawkins. I mean, we don't get much action down here. But you know that, duh. You lived. " I don't know why I feel so awkward. So nervous. It's the new environment, it has to be. I'll get used to it.

We pass a few rows of what I assume are bunks. Clothes are scattered along the floor and partially hanging out of a few of the bunks. This is definitely where Gareth, Doug and Jeff sleep.

" This is the boy's area. " My suspicions confirmed. " Fuck. " Eddie mutters, nearly tripping over a hidden pile of magazines. " I told them to clean this shit up earlier. Obviously they don't listen. " Eddie reaches down and snags one of the partially open magazines off of the ground.

A nearly naked woman holding an open notebook to cover her chest stares back up at him.

" I'm gonna have to talk to him about this. Jeff can't just have this shit lying around in the open when Rosie's on the bus. " Eddie chucks the magazine into one of the bunks, shaking his head in disapproval.

We finally get to the last section of the bus, a separated room. " I just wanted to let you know about a few of the rules I have for Rosie. " He pulls a small slip of paper out of his black ripped jeans. " I didn't know if I should make a list. I've never really had a nanny before. I figured it's better safe than sorry. " His eyes scan over the ripped white sheet in his hands. The back has streaks of green and blue, something I'm guessing is curtesy of Rose.

" I really want to try to get her to bed at 8. 8:30 at most. I've been a bit lax about it the past few days since we're trying to adjust to the whole tour bus thing, but I read that structure's like really important for a kid so I'm trying to do that. As much as I can I mean. It's a little difficult on tour. " He lets out a small tired laugh. The past few days have definitely taken a toll on him.

" I get that. I'll do my best to get her to bed on time. " I reassure him, hoping to take some of the stress off of his plate.

" Thanks. " His eyes meet mine. " That'd really help me out a ton. I'm trying to keep cursing away from Rose. So please no curse words around her. "

" Oh my, Gareth, Doug, and Jeff not swearing? That's a first for sure. " I say in slight disbelief. I never thought I'd see the day.

Eddie chuckles. " It's a struggle. They slip up sometimes. I do too. It's hard not to, but I really don't want Rose to end up being that kid who curses in every sentence in class. At least not until high school. " Eddie hands the small slip of paper to me. " She's not allowed to have any photos taken of her. I understand that's going to be hard with the fuck-sorry, freaking paparazzi, but just maybe try to cover her face or something if they manage to find us or see her. People know what she looks like so if something does manage to get taken, I'm not going to flip out. I just don't feel comfortable with her face being everywhere on anything. "

I nod. " I completely understand. I wouldn't want my kid's pictures out there like that. I'll do what I can. "

" Thanks. Alright, I think that's really it right now. If something comes up I'll let you know. " Eddie opens the door and immediately a small head pokes out from one of the curtains blocking what I'm guessing are the beds. " This is the bunk room where everyone sleeps.

" You! " Rose squeaks, pointing a small finger at me. She jumps out of the bottom bunk she's on before launching herself in our direction. The small bunny from before is still tightly clutched under her arm, this time it's got a plastic pink necklace around it's neck and a bright purple bow squishing the two ears together. " Hi. " She grins up at me.

Faded green lines cover the tops of her hands. She's dressed in a small princess-like outfit, a stark contrast in color to the mostly dark bus.

Like her, her bunk is covered by a princess themed curtain, the only curtain that's a color other than black.

I smile down at the small girl. " Hey, Rose. How are you today? " I ask, bending slightly to meet her eye level.

" Good! I-I have a tea party wif- wif daddy and den we ated cookies! " She exclaims. " Daddy leted (Let) me play wif his gui-guigar (guitar) today too! "

Eddie chuckles, ruffling the wild curls of the little girl. " It's guitar, baby. "

" That's what I said! " She sasses, her face crinkling into an annoyed pout.

Eddie rolls his eyes. " This child. "

" I wonder where she gets that from. " I tease the man.

He places a hand on his heart. " Well, I have no idea. Couldn't be me. It hurt you'd assume I'm the dramatic one. " He pouts dramatically. His pout is nearly identical to the mini him standing inches away from us.

There's no way in hell someone could think they're not related. From the attitude to the hair, the genetics stand strong.

" This is your bunk. It's right above Rosie's. Your shelves are right here. " He pulls out three shelves on the right side of the bunks. " And this is your closet. " He gestures to the taller portion up top. " I'm right across from Rosie and usually the bunk up top is used for storage unless we have an extra guest or something. " Eddie leans back against his bunk. " It's a little tight in here but it's only temporary. We'll be outta here in a day or so and on our way to Texas. "

I pull open the curtain that hides my bed. A small fully made bed sits on the other side. A portable lamp sits neatly tucked in the top corner by a fluffed-out pillow. It's tight but there's still enough room to move around a bit. " Are we flying? " I ask curiously. I assumed that at some point or another, we'd be flying. That's something that's made me a bit anxious. I've never been on a plane before.

" Yeah-Whoa! " Eddie lets out a surprised gasp.

Rose giggles as she clings to her father's tattoo-covered arms. He's upgraded from the small stick n pokes to a few larger pieces. " Daddy I jumpted good. "

Eddie pulls Rose up to his chest, tightly hugging her while playfully swinging her around. " Yah you did kiddo. " He says with amusement in his tone. His gaze returns back to me. " I bought you tickets for all of the flights and rooms at the hotels we're staying at so everything is covered. "

" Thank you. " I smile at the guy.

He's changed. He seems...calmer. Less reckless than the kid I knew years ago. Having Rose' has probably changed that. He's mature now.

" Of course, you're doing me a huge favor. " He gently sets his kid back onto the ground. " By the way, if you need anything, please let me know. I can get it for you. Or let our assistant Gina know. She's got one of my cards too. "

" I feel like I'm getting more out of this than you are. " I say softly. " You're giving me so much. I feel bad for taking all of your money. "

Eddie shakes his head, his curles flying out. " You don't need to feel bad for anything. I promise. You're gonna help me out so much. I was stressing so bad trying to find someone to help with Rose. I was so worried I wouldn't find someone in time. I'm just giving you the resources to help you guys live comfortably. And you're not spending all of my money. I promise you. I wouldn't be doing all of this if I couldn't afford to. " Eddie says honestly.

" Thanks Ed. " I send him a small smile.

A part of me still feels a little bad but the other part is so excited. I've never done anything like this before. I can't wait to see what happens.

" The guys will be back from the gas station anytime soon and then we'll hit the road. It's probably best if you get all of your stuff put away so you're not flying around back here when we take off. " Eddie reaches into Rose' bunk where she's retreated back into. She lets out a loud squeal as she's pulled into the light by her father, her hands gripping tightly onto two small dolls.

" Daddy! "

Eddie chuckles at her frustrated shout. " I'm going to take this one on a walk to get her jitters out so she doesn't destroy the bus while we're on the road. " Eddie tickles Rose' tummy. " Isn't that right, baby? You're full of energy, aren't ya? Aren't ya? " His voice switches into a baby voice as he pulls his face close to his daughters.

She lets out a loud belly laugh. " No! Daddy Stop! " She shouts in between giggles.

Eddie sets Rose on his hip, careful not to bump her into anything. " We'll be back. " He says before leading her back to the enterence of the bus.

I watch as they walk away, a smile on my face.

This is going to be interesting.

[skarsjoy]

15 years ago today - (09.09.09)

Swedish actor Alexander Skarsgård plays the powerful vampire Eric on HBO's series True Blood. His Guest DJ set was emotional and revealing as he chose to dedicate each of his five songs to people that play an important part in his life -- including his father, actor Stellan Skarsgard, a lost love and an old friend. True Blood's Season 2 finale airs September 13.

For More: True Blood, Season 2

Tracks Rolling Stones: Mothers Little Helper Ebba Grön: 800 °C The Buzzcocks: Ever Fallen in Love Van Morrison: Brown Eyed Girl Iggy Pop: The Passenger

Transcript:

Anne Litt: Hi, I am Anne Litt and I am here with the actor Alexander Skarsgard who stars in the popular vampire drama series True Blood on HBO. He plays the powerful vampire Eric. Today, we will be playing excerpts of songs he has selected that have inspired him over the years as part of KCRW'S Guest DJ Project.

Alex, what did you bring us today?

Alexander Skarsgard: I brought 5 songs that I'd want to dedicate to people – five people that play or have played an important part in my life.

AL: What a great idea. Let's start with Rolling Stones "Mother's Little Helper"

AS: I spent a week at my Dad's country house in southern Sweden. His grandfather built that house 9 years ago and my dad, it's very important to him to maintain it like the way it was built, to preserve it and not to modernize it too much. So, there is no running water there. If you want to take a shower you have to go out to the well and pump up water and pour it over yourself. When I was a kid, me and my Dad would go out and pump up water, pour it over each other and sing this song. So I want to dedicate this song to my old man and I want to thank him for not building a jacuzzi out there or an infinity pool or anything like that.

Song: Rolling Stones" Mother's Little Helper

AS: At the time , I didn't know a word of English but it didn't stop me from shouting, ‘ra pa doo pa da da dee…' I just made up jibberish but it was just a beautiful thing to share with my Dad singing that song. I couldn't care less what we were saying."

AL: That was the Rolling Stones, "Mother's Little Helper." I am here with Alex Skarsgard on KCRW's Guest DJ Project. What's the next dedication?

AS: When I was a teenager I was a punk rocker. This was in the early 90's and it was like 15 years after it was cool to be a punk rocker. Everyday after school I would bring my boombox out to this park and I would sit there with my friends singing and watch the sunset and listen to loud, angry, fast music. One of my best friends from back then, he's sick. He's been in and out of the hospital for a couple of years now. This is like an old Swedish punk song from the late 70's that I would like to dedicate to him. I hope he gets better soon so we can get a chance to drink cheap beer and bitch about the decay of our civilization. This is Ebba Grön (dedicates it to his friend in Swedish)

Song: Ebba Grön's 800 °C

AS: I was kind of a half ass punk rocker. I didn't go full punk. Ebba Grön started the Swedish punk wave in the mid-70's so this was 15 years after that but we loved this band and listened to them all the time.

AL: Are they still around?

AS: They're not but they are still very, very famous in Sweden. I still love them and think they are an amazing band.

AL: I am Anne Litt from KCRW and we are here with Alex Skarsgard. This is KCRW's Guest DJ Project and the next song I want to talk about is the Buzzcocks' "Ever Fallen in Love."

AS: Yeah, I had this girlfriend awhile ago, many years ago, and it was a very passionate relationship. I was very much in love with this girl, but after a few months we both realized we weren't good for each other. But it was one of those relationships that we didn't make each other happy, but every time we broke up, we ended up back together and that went on for almost 3 years. I don't know if you've experienced that, but it just killed me. It was really, really tough. I just tried to move on and so did she but we just couldn't. I want to dedicate this song to her and I hope she found happiness somewhere out there.

Song: Buzzcocks' "Ever Fallen in Love"

AS: Every time after a fight I would just put on my big headphones and I would crank up the volume and go Pete Shelley freakin' gets it. In a way she will always be a part of me, but I don't have to listen to Buzzcocks and cry every day and night any more. I can actually listen to it now and enjoy it because it's a great song.

AL: It's the Buzzcocks," Ever Fallen in love". We're here with Alex Skarsgard from the HBO series, True Blood, on KCRW's Guest DJ Project. What's the next song you have for us?

AS: When I was a kid we went on a lot of road trips and my mom had this song that she always wanted to play. She is a very considerate person, my mom, so she would always ask the kids and my Dad if it was okay if she played the song. Like I mentioned before, I was a punk rocker so I would just shrug my shoulders and be like ‘oh whatever, I don't care.' So I want to dedicate this song -- my mom's favorite song --to her and I want her to know that even though I would never admit it at the time, I actually loved it every time she put it on.

Song: Van Morrison's "Brown Eyed Girl"

AL: Do you ever feel homesick?

AS: Yeah.

AL: Is there a piece of music that you hear that just takes you there?

AS: It's kind of tough because I am the only one in my family here in LA. The rest of my family lives in Sweden so music is great for that. I just put on a song and it brings me right back home.

AL: That was Van Morrison's Brown Eyed Girl. This is the KCRW'S Guest DJ Project. I'm Anne Litt with Alex Skarsgard who has brought in a whole bunch of great songs and the next one is "The Passenger" by Iggy Pop. Tell us about that one.

AS: I've been in LA for five years now, on and off. Growing up in Stockholm, Sweden that transition, it's not easy because Stockholm is a very densely populated place, you walk or you ride your bike. Most of my friends are within just a few blocks away from each other and coming out here was kind of tricky. Suddenly you're in a city where it's considered normal to sit in traffic for 45 minutes for coffee with a friend or people drive Hummers to the gym so I've kind of spent five years complaining about LA and talking about how much greater Stockholm is, how good it is back there. I was just there for two weeks and when I landed I flew into LAX and I had this really weird feeling when we touched ground. I felt like I was coming home. I've never felt that before so this last song I actually want to dedicate to Los Angeles and I hate to admit it but I think I'm falling in love.

Song: "The Passenger," by Iggy Pop

AL: Nobody is going to let you get out of here today without telling us what music Eric listens to.

AS: He listens to a lot of Swedish death metal.

AL: Is it hard to talk with those things in your mouth?

AS: The fangs?

AL: Yeah

AS: Yeah, you know, it takes a while to get used to it.

AL: Are they like those things you used to get on Halloween?

AS: Well, they're not plastic they're like molded for your teeth but it's basically the same thing.

AL: Alex, thanks so much for joining us on KCRW.com, you've shared such a meaningful group of songs

AS: Thank you so much for having me, it was a true pleasure

AL: For a complete track listing and to find these songs online, go to KCRW.com/GuestDJProject

photo by Chris Maluszynski (photo shoot for DN Söndag, August 2009) taken in Shreveport, LA, while filming Straw Dogs

[sajooo2024]

Please pay attention,🚨

I am Saja, 29 years old, a Palestinian mother of two girls. All my life, I lived in a warm house with my children and my husband. Our life was beautiful and calm, and I was completely satisfied with my life. But 11 months ago, the war of extermination launched by the Israeli army against us began. My house was bombed, and I lost many members of my family. Our lives turned into hell. Now I live in a tent and I do not have the minimum requirements for a normal life. I appeal to you with a mother’s heart that is heavy with worries to stand with me and spread and share my post because every dollar makes a difference in helping me and my family survive this war.🙏

@apol @appsa @buttercuparry @mar64ds @palestinegenocide-blog @orblr @sar-soor @akajustmerry @annoyingloudmicrowavecultist @feluka @marnosso-blog @sayruq @tortiefrancis @flower-tea-fairies @tsaricides @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @visenyasdragon @belleandsaintsebastian @ear-motif @kordeliiius @communistkenobi @brutaliakhoa @raelyn-dreams @troythecatfish @thatdiabolicalfeminist @tamarrud @buttercuparry @queerstudiesnatural @northgazaupdates2 @skatezophrenic @awetistic-things @baby-girl-aaron-dessner @nabulsi

@el-shab-hussein @ibtisams @90-ghost

[shironezuninja]

How was I supposed to know that the 90’s Spider-Man animated series WASN’T dubbed in the French area of Canada like it’s X-Men cartoon counterpart was?? I was only told that the passing of that Cyclops voice actor came from that area from a memorial DA submission comment. As a wandering Lost Girl of the 90’s, I could only assume that the FoxKids shows were lumped together in one place. Besides, I had also been informed that the voice acting business wasn’t as Remote during the 2000’s when watching a YouTube video of an old AnimeCon panel, hosted by The Main Fallen One who voiced the Hagane no Chibi-San.😣😞

[ladymirdan]

I often think about a thing that happened when I was still a kid and pretty new to Warhammer.

There were this FLGS located pretty much exactly inbetween my school and my home. I didnt do very well in school, my grades were okish but I skipped class A LOT. Oh the joy of being a girl with comically autistic traits in the 90’s, my baby brother got a diagnosis, I got a “why are you so weird, stop it”.

But I spent a lot of time in this store, and im genuinely surprised they let me do that. I was a kid, I couldnt buy very much. I just sat there and painted or played a few games. And sometimes I got to build stuff for the store (very exciting). They even convinced me to send in a contribution to Golden Daemon (I did not win, not even close 😂)

Even back then I was obsessed with oldhammer stuff. And the store owner who had been into nerd stuff for decades thought that was really fun and says something along the line of “hey I have a few first edition WHFB armies in a box in the basement, if you want tou can cone down with me and look at them.

So there I go, 14 year old girl, with this 40+ year old man into a shady ass basement to look at minis.

And the minis were soo awesome, he was a very good painter. He also found a “how to paint minis”- pamphlet from like the 80’s and gave it to me (boy do I wish I still had it)

But like, what was I thinking. If he had been any kind of shady guy, things could have ended so badly. I cringe just thinking about it. And I wasnt a naive kid either, ever since I hit puberty at like 11 ive had grown ass men grope me on the street before. I knew all about “bad men”.

But shoutout to that store for being one of the first places in my life where I felt appreciateed and not not a burden. Where people would greet me excitedly whenever I showed up. My guess is they saw a lot of themselves in that lonely and weird kid.

I would link to it, but it closed down over a decade ago, and I heard the owner passed away. And that is such a damn shame because the world needs more people like him. That creates safe spaces for the weird and the lost.

[afro-hispwriter]

Summer Shadows(Camp Slasher Au) Welcome to Camp Paradis!

Levi Ackerman x reader(eventual)

Warnings- late 90’s, Levi and Mikasa are cousins, Levi sorta hates you

Summary- Camp Paradis is back in session after being closed for the past 30 years after the murder of 17 attendees. But that’s OBVIOUSLY not going to happen again!!!

Wc-2.1k

-

It’s too fucking hot for this shit

That's what was running through Levi’s head as he carried his two duffle bags through the sea of parents and children coming into Camp Paradis. 

Fucking summer camp, last time I let Erwin convince me to do this

“This is your fault,” Mikasa says next to him, her suitcase hitting her ankles almost every step. “If you hadn’t lost your job, then that shitty apartment we wouldn’t-.”

“Hey, brat.” He stopped and glared at her. “Do you ever shut the fuck up?”

“I hate you.” She stomped off to the check-in and Levi let out a ‘tch’. 

He walked over to where counselors were supposed to meet up when large hands clapped on his shoulders.

“Levi!” He knew the voice instantly and sighed deeply.

“Erwin.” The blonde moved in front of him, he had that stupid smile on his face. It was his first year as head counselor and Levi already knew he was overly excited. Just like he was when he was Valedictorian for his high school and college class, the best football player in both, and one of the smartest. While still being the kindest guy there was. Someone Levi could call his (best)friend. 

“I'm glad you’re here, let me tell you what cabin you’re being assigned.” Erwin looked at his clipboard and flipped through it. “Ackerman. Ackerman. Acker- ah okay you’re going to be In charge of Cabin G with 10 boys from ages 8 to 16.” Erwin points to the cabin far away. “Oh, and that cabin is next to a girl's cabin so you will have to keep an eye out a bit more often.”

“Great, as if just having to keep them alive for the next two months won't be hard enough.” 

“Hey come on, lighten up.” Levi rolled his eyes and turned his body to walk away but Erwin spoke again. “Made sure Mikasa is in the girl's cabin next to yours.”

“Tch. Why would you do that?” 

“Because she’s your family and you care about her. Regardless of whatever hatred there is between you two.” Levi said nothing and did nothing. Just stared at his friend and walked away.

-

Two steps into the cabin Levi knew what the first job the kids were going to be doing was. It was disgustingly filthy. He didn’t even want to throw his bags down. 

There was a paper to his left on a counter that read

Camp Paradis Cabin G

Head Cabin Counselor: Levi Ackerman(23)

Assistant Cabin Counselor: Furlan Church(19)

Campers:

Armin Arlet(14)   

Logan Beam(9)

Alexander Clarke(11)

Jean Kirstein(15)

Aloy Ramos(12)

Nicolas Shroud(16)

Connie Springer(15)

Jeremy Volantage(10)

Eren Yeager(15, watch closely, can be very troublesome)

Keiko Xu(8)

The rest of it was some rules and ways of communication. 

Levi rubbed his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. Oh, he knew this wasn’t going to be good. Between the mix of a whole bunch of adolescent brats and 2 little kids. He’s not getting a moment's peace, but at least he’s getting paid. 

He dropped his bags at the farthest bunk bed and grimaced at the dirt.

Did they not clean these beforehand?

“Hey!” A voice came from the entrance and Levi turned around. A guy with blonde hair and light gray eyes stood at the entrance waving at him. “Furlan Church and you are?” 

“Ackerman.” The blonde cocked his head to the side.

“Oh Levi. Really? I thought you were a-.” The eyebrow raised from Levi told Furlan it was best to keep that thought to himself. “Anyways, campers should be coming in soon, so what bed are you taking?“ 

Levi looked at the bed he was standing by. 

“Alright, guess I'll take this one.” Furlan tossed his bag on the bed by the main door. 

-

Levi remembered during orientation for counselors that there was a storage closet with cleaning supplies. He grabbed the handle and pushed it down but just as he opened it, someone was coming out. Before he could step back, his forehead rammed into their chin and his chest bumped a whole bunch of supplies in their arms. 

“Oh no I'm sorry, I should've watched where I was going.” Levi knew that voice. That irritating, grating voice. Looking up at her face confirmed his fears.

Y/n L/n. A total daddy’s girl with daddy's money. He went to school with you and the last time he saw you was high school graduation. He hated you. He always hated your stupid smile. He always hated how smart you were. He always hated how stupidly kind you were. He always hated how caring you were. He hated how you didn’t look any different you’re still so beautiful. Your stupid perfect hair hasn’t changed. He hated the stupid tank top you wore that matched your perfect skin beautifully. He hated those pretty shorts that he knew your ass looked great in. 

He hated you

“Levi? Levi Ackerman holy shit you’re here!” You say with a big smile and open your arms out wide. Dropping everything else in your arms. You stepped forward to hug him but he stepped back and out of reach making you stop. “Oh sorry.” You drop your arms but still keep a smile. “How have you been? 

He stared at you and let out a huff.

“Fine. What the hell are you doing here? Didn’t see you at the orientation and this isn’t your usual setting.”

“I’ve been a counselor here for 3 years now so it’s not mandatory, it’s nice though.” You squatted down and started grabbing the things off the ground. Cleaning supplies Levi could see. 

“Tch. Thought you’d be in Italy or some other country with your boyfriend.” That made you laugh, he squatted down and grabbed a bottle of cleaner.

“What boyfriend?”

“That rich guy-”

“Oh Sam!? Seriously? He was so obnoxious and not my type at all.” You stood back up and Levi followed. “I actually liked the whole camping thing and taking care of kids, it's nice. What Cabin are you in?’

“G.”

“Hey we’re neighbors, I'm in F as the Head. Guess that’s why I have Mikasa, she’s your cousin right?” He nodded and you pressed your lips together in a straight line. “Okay! I guess I’ll see you later. Bye, Levi.” You brushed past him and he was hit with the scent of your fruity perfume that made him turn his face to follow it. As he did his gray eyes trailed down to your ass.

-

The kids and parents were slowly starting to trickle in. Parents crying about letting their kids go, kids clinging to their parents, or the parent or kid who just wants to leave or stay to get away from each other. 

In Levi’s cabin, the first boy to arrive was Armin Arlet and his grandfather. He was quiet and settled in quickly. Next was Jean Kirstein, he came in by himself and just by saying a few words. Levi could see this kid had an ego. Eren Yeager came in and Levi and even Furlan were curious about the kid. Armin and he seemed to be good friends since the blonde boy jumped up and ran to Eren screaming his name. Eren’s father came up to Levi and held out his hand.

“I'm Grisha Yeager and this is my wife, Carla, I'm assuming you're Levi.” Their hands met and it ended quickly. “I'm sure they have mentioned our son but trust me on this, my son is a menace, I'm saying he would start a revolution if he could.” Levi sucked in a breath and let it out.

“Sir, I can and will handle your son.” Grisha’s shoulders dropped.

This guy seems disciplined, maybe he is who Eren needs 

“Thank you.” The man says and goes to Eren. 

A long day. A long day indeed.

-

The last boy to come in was Keiko Xu. He was clutching his mother's hand tightly and his other arm held his stuffed puppy toy. 

“Hey there!” Furlan approached them. “I'm Furlan and you are?” He looked down at the small boy.

“Keiko.” He says and he looks around the cabin and settles on Levi. 

“Cool name, how about you choose a bed kid, we still have three available.” Keiko nodded and dropped his mother's hand. He looked around all the beds, the boys smiling and waving at him. He got closer to Levi and Keiko looked at him in slight fear and that glare wasn’t helping. Levi noticed how nervous the kid was and relaxed his face. 

“Mmm, can I sleep here?” The small boy pointed to the bottom bed of the bunk next to Levi’s.

“Sure kid.” Keiko smiled and sat on the bed. His mother came over dropped his bags down and said her goodbyes. After she left, Furlan closed the door and Levi stood up. 

“Alright brats.” He said loudly and the boys all looked up at him. “Get settled in, we’re leaving in 20 for the grand welcoming in the mess hall. Understood?”

“Yes sir?” Connie salutes and Levi rolls his eyes.

-

Furlan stood in front leading the group while Levi was in the back making sure none of them strayed. The boys were already becoming fast friends but Keiko was still shy and almost cried when Levi told him to leave his toy so it didn't get lost. But that also seemed to be the reason why Keiko stayed close to Levi, as some sort of protection and comfort Keiko found in such little time. 

He kept looking around at all the people and some bumped into him making him stumble into Levi. In fear of falling, he grabbed Levi's hand and squeezed it tight. Levi’s eyes widened and tried to draw his hand back but Keiko wouldn’t let go. He just had to accept it.

He sat his group down and told them he would be in the back with the other councilors. There were refreshments and snacks that the adults were taking advantage of before the kids ate them all later. To Levi’s surprise, there was tea, it was in the bags but tea nonetheless. He grabbed a mug and the boiling kettle and started his tea. 

He listened to bits and parts of it. Erwin’s overly happy voice was about to give him a headache. 

Someone bumped his shoulder and pressed theirs against his due to the tight fit.

“Y/n.” 

“Levi.” You smiled at him. “Can I ask you a question?” 

“Mmm?” He took a sip. 

“Do you hate me? Like have I done something to you in the past? I just feel like you don’t like me.” He side-eyes you and takes another sip.

“Sorry if I wasn’t so fucking bubbly and happy.” He spit and you scrunch your nose.

“Guess I have my answer.” You start to walk away and Levi rolls his head back and shoots his arm out to grab your elbow 

“Wait brat.” He pulled you back next to him. “I don’t hate you.” 

“Then you strongly dislike me when I haven’t done anything to you. Tell me why you hate me.” He rolled his eyes and stayed quiet. “Fine if you don’t want to tell me, why don’t we just start over, and then when you have fallen hopelessly in love with me, you will forget why you hated me at all.” 

“Tch.” He shook his head and looked into his tea with a small smile.“In your dreams, but fine.” Keith Shadis, the director of the camp, was talking now about to close out. 

“So after lunch, me and my girls were going to do arts and crafts, do you and your boys want to join us?” Levi thought for a moment and stared at his group. He’d known them for less than two hours and he could tell they would prefer to throw a football or play volleyball rather than arts and crafts. Well, Armin and Keiko seem like they would. 

Fuck it

“Sure, I’ll bring them over.” 

“Fun!” You say and elbow him.

-

There were no directors, no counselors, no campers in the courtyard due to all of them being in the mess hall. 

Nobody knew of the man standing in the trees by the nurse's office. 

Staring right through the window. 

Staring right at Levi and Y/n. 

-

A/n- first time writing something like this!!! Next chapter will have more Levi and Y/n and masked man lore. Lmk if anybody wants to be tagged for this.

[peawinkls]

why jfabe is NOT!!!! boring and lifeless and proving that wrong, an informational thread discussing their relationship and dynamic, because honestly im getting tired of ppl saying their boring

contains s3 spoilers!

The relationship between JFK and abe from Clone High is something alot of people within the community discussed, especially before s3, being talked about more after s2's finale. Many speculated that the two would remain friends or even become more than that.

Now with season 3 out, we have a lot more things to work out with, specifically episode 3. It's something a lot of people are too afraid to admit, but jfabe/abefk would make the show a lot more interesting, rather than its repeatable joanabe plotline.

So, I'm here to talk about the inner workings of this pair, why their so interesting, and why they work out so much, whether platonic or not. If ur not a fan of jfabe/abefk, or heavily dislike the ship, I'd recommend turning away from this post.

Introduction, the who, the when, the why, the how...and their differences n similarities

So, we all know these two characters. JFK the beloved, Abe the hated. Something that many people picked out of the 2020 clone high fandom. But what if i told you that the beloved and the hated were truly meant to be together from the start?

What we already know is that they are the complete opposite of each other in many ways. JFK is meant to be a parody on 90s jocks from highschool movies and tv shows. Abe is the weak nerd who desperately wants to be cool.

JFK is buff and shorter, Abe is tall and lanky. JFK is a douchebag, Abe is the nicer guy. The list goes on and on. And they even have stuff in common, such as the fear of abandonment and the fear of ruining things.

But one difference i can note is that Abe is way more naive than JFK, JFK is portrayed as empty-headed, but not empty-headed enough to not realize whats going on. Of course, despite the differences, both characters make a really good team.

And this was even evident in s2 ep10, aka the finale, where they both realize that they make a great "duo of bros who'll remain friends for the rest of their lives". Jfabe shippers were FEEDING on this shit back then you have no idea

So with this stuff out of the way, it's time to talk about my favorite episode out of season 3.

Bible Humpers: A Much Needed Praycation

This episode revolves around JFK getting tired of having meaningless sex with girls and partying hard, and decides to seek out a new life when he and Abe discovers the prayer pals club, hosted by Lady Godiva. And at first, Abe is happy to see that JFK is taking on new opportunities.

"Where the slut goes, the wing slut follows."

But eventually, JFK starts straying away from Abe and his friendship, to the point of even FORGETTING about the broniversary that Abe had planned for the both of them (he literally baked a giant cake for him, look at me and tell me thats straight cmon now).

Seeing how Abe had already lost Joan and Gandhi, he didn't wanna lose JFK either, and does everything he can to make him happy and thats so clear. And even at the end of the episode, it's revealed that Abe even respected his choice on ultimately choosing celibacy.

He really does care a bunch for JFK, liking him for who he truly was (compared to JFK's other dates) and respecting his choices. And despite choosing celibacy over Abe, the two still remain close, which really tells you how great their bond is.

So something HAS definitely changed throughout the years, from them hating each others guts to potentially becoming clone highs next couple...which didn't happen, and I'm still petty about it i will admit.

But even if they didn't become canon at the end, you could really tell that some people who worked on this episode wanted them to be a thing, and that's a good enough sign for me that they could hopefully become canon in the next season if we ever get one (still petty though).

Let's circle back to season 1 again. I'm not making a jfabe thread without mentioning Litter Kills: Literally, which is another episode that jfabe shippers fed on. In this episode, JFK's close friend Ponce dies, and he's left to grieve over him.

And in this episode, we see a side of JFK that we never saw before. He starts wondering why the hell he's feeling all of these emotions, because he's a Kennedy, and he's not used to them. But Abe helps him realize that emotions like this are normal.

And even if the two hated each other, Abe apologized to him in the end and finally realized his mistakes. It seemed like Abe disliked him, yet he cares about him. Abe never knew what if felt like, because he hasn't lost a friend close to him.

So he starts berating Cleo for comforting JFK and was even aggressive towards JFK as well, believing that he was only doing all of this just to take Cleo away from him. That was all because he NEVER knew what it was like. But he finally understood.

He was sorry, but he felt like he couldn't do much to help because he didn't experience the same thing. So he just hugged JFK and held him...for a really long time.

But that was just enough for JFK, all he needed was comfort, and Abe chose to do that. So even at the episode, he couldn't help but ask JFK if he was alright. And by the next episode, JFK was already feeling better. All it takes is someone to tell you that its gonna be okay.

So what I'm trying to say is despite their own anxieties, flaws, characteristics, whatever, their PERFECT for each other. I don't like how people label them as "boring", when their so much more deeper than that.

Jfabe/AbeFK is one of my comfort ships for this exact reason. Their lore, dynamic and relationship goes beyond that, i don't ship them just because i think their cute, but because their interesting, and it may seem like im going insane over a white boy ship, but i truly, truly, from the bottom of my heart, love this ship to pieces, and hopefully people can see that through me. Thank you, clone high.

[encrucijada]

HAZE DOGS — a wip by ester cuervos

【 genre & categroy: horror, low fantasy, adult 】

【 pov: 2nd person retrospective 】

【 what if princess mononoke, the hunt from the magnus archives, and night in the woods had a baby. guy too scared for horror keeps writing it. great news for all the girls (gender neutral) who've ever wanted to go apeshit!! i'm technically catholic so i'm allowed to bastardise catholicism 】

【 cw: cults, blood and gore, religious blasphemy, cannibalism, harm to animals 】

【 tone & themes: feminine horror, corruption, bottled rage, divinity, unhinged, atmospheric, eerie, immortality/mortality 】

a b o u t : an isolated town is haunted by otherworldly canines incapable of dying. when connor hidalgo mejía comes back to life after being sacrificed by her old classmates, the town finds a temporary solution to their problem that will keep more people from dying: they offer connor and only connor to the animals. with her boyfriend's mother at the head, connor becomes the reluctant but not entirely unwilling idol of worship of a cult that begins to form around her. the people of her town really believe she can somehow free them of this haunting. but aurora vidal isn't the only one pulling the strings for power. everyone wants a piece of connor's divinity, a god is easy to manipulate when she's actually just a nineteen-year-old girl who up until last month only had two concerns: make it to tomorrow and get to know her estranged brother. the temporary solution starts to feel like a permanent one with connor soon not being able to find peace in life or in death.

another story about a girl in a white dress getting sacrificed... except she's wearing cool alternative clothes on top of that white dress. also the dark academia plot of "person we all hate died under mysterious circumstances" except this time the person keeps coming back to life, worse each time.

c h a r a c t e r s :

connor hidalgo mejía. she/they. embodies the energy of the "alt friend" from 00s teen movies. would have bitten you to win an argument even before things got freaky. what if jesus was a dog.

ángel quijada vidal. he/they. connor's boyfriend. dark academia protagonist who got lost and ended up in a horror movie. ignoring social cues on purpose because he thinks they're stupid.

delilah estévez herrera. she/her. connor's best friend. literally the prettiest person in the room at all times. not joining your cult bestie sick aesthetic tho. borrowing her from my buddy jude <3

acacia quijada vidal. she/her. connor's frenemy. would befriend you and then vaguepost about you online. ángel's sister. youngest sister syndrome. dead blue eyes.

aurora vidal ochoa. she/her. ángel's mum. gaslight gatekeep girlboss. woke up and decided to become a cult leader. marisa coulter energy (derogatory).

benjy hidalgo mejía. he/him. connor's brother, apparently. has the energy of the bum older brother with a shitty band and a warning sign of his door you'd find in a 90s movie.

zagreus. he/it. pubby :3 nothing weird going on here i prommy.

aesthetic: a foggy open field, coyote howls in the dead of night, wiping blood from your mouth, maximalist teen girl bedrooms, light reflecting off of animal eyes, an empty dilapidated church, bite marks on your shoulder, tall grass swaying in the breeze, an abandoned fountain filled with greenish water, broken statues, taxidermy animals, the rattle of a dog's chain, crackling television signal, cloudy weather and the smell of ozone before a storm, glitter makeup rolling down your cheeks, music so loud others hear it on your headphones, a lake with party trash floating on the surface, your fanciest clothes splattered with blood, the cold smoothness of fine jewellery, low quality camera footage, a trail of kisses down your spine, teeth that are too sharp, halos made with neon bracelets, cupping your cheeks with bloodied hands, curling up under the covers in bed when it's cold

snippet!!!

“Cool, right?” you asked your reflection, answered yourself with a smile that cut your purple mouth in two with white teeth.

You grabbed your keys.

Benjy was in the living room. He still occupied space like he was a guest instead of a resident, you looked at him and tried to find yourself on his face, on his shoulders, his hair, his hands. But other than the brown of your skin and his skin, you couldn’t, the only thing you shared that your mum had too were the freckles, but what did that prove? If that was proof of kin then Ángel would be your brother, Dafne a quarter of something with the smattered speckles on the bridge of their nose.

“Where the fuck are you going?”

He was your brother enough to talk like he’d known all nineteen years of your life.

You stopped in front of the television, a horror movie screaming behind you, blood and guts and bad sound effects of tearing skin, someone’s burbly wail from a cut throat.

“Vidal party.”

“What’s a Vidal? Am I supposed to know what that is?”

“They own like half the town, huge house, can’t miss it.”

“And they invited the likes of you?”

[cyberbabyangell]

₊˚⊹☆ all my drs!!

have a list of all the drs i officially shift to (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ (in order of discovery) The ages are accurate to the moment i will shift in these drs if that makes sense..

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Better CR ⪼ Soren Minerva, 15 years old

this is where i'll permashift to 😼

Solar System ⪼ Soren Minerva, 8 years old

this dr is very similar to my bcr, but its the one with lore and history and gods etc also i shift at 8 just so i can bask in the 2010 years again because lets be honest they were the best ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )

My Hero Academia ⪼ Aiden Konoike, 14 years old

i'm just a girl in this one. ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

Demon Slayer ⪼ Hoshi Tomioka, 16 years old

i'll have to figure this one out again, i just know i have cosmic breathing 🥳 zenitsu is probably my s/o •ᴗ•

Genshin Impact ⪼ Fleur, 18 years old(physically)

this one is lore heavy as well, but rn im just a court multitasker/protean at fontaine. i picked neuvillette as my found family, and kaeya & thoma as my lovers •ᴗ•

ParadoxLive ⪼ Nova Fall, 18 years old

aka one of my most hyped drs. im an idol there and a very cliche one at that. like that one barbie popstar movie where she transforms on stage, me core. i date nayuta because he's the only true one for me ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

What in HELL is bad? ⪼ Selene, 19 years old

i sort of follow the game plot, as in im the daughter of solomon. i didnt go too far in the game yet but i jst KNOW i either get close with satan or leviathan

Sonic the Hedgehog ⪼ Lune, do mobians have age..

this is the closest i currently am to being a princess, but im not royalty..sonic and shadow broke me out of my castle and brought me to green hill 😐 anyways i summon crystals with a wand weewoo! with the chaos emeralds i summon a crystal golem thing ◝(ᵔᵕᵔ)◜

Land of the Lustrous ⪼ Opal, 400 years old

not much to say except that opal looks uncannily close to diamond in appearance. i date zircon! or idk but we're best friends! ◝(ᵔᵕᵔ)◜

Helodon ⪼ Atria, 20 years old

this is my partner's world - he writes a lot like me so of COURSE he has his own world like me and allowed me to shift there. i dont have much info on myself either i just know im cute and i love sothoth ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

Spiderverse ⪼ Blair Fall or Minerva idk, 16 years old

my alias is haxxor bunny, because its literally bronya's haxxor bunny skin in hi3..i attack like her too! and i got beef with aiden<3 im not sure but i think i'll date a spiderman version of sero there ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-

90's dr ⪼ Kami Bateman, 26 years old

im a model hehe. and i date a perfectly sane and healthy patrick bateman really i just like his looks, i scripted he was really sweet ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)

AFK Journey ⪼ Merlin, 300 years old

again i lost interest in the game but im still shifting there. my alias is jinx and im a vampire, also im a dude lol. my s/o is valen<3 but soren is so close to taking the cake and i'd be so mad cause dude got the same name as the host 😨 also im dura's son!

Wuthering Waves ⪼ Orion, 20 years old

okay bare with me i still love the game but im unable to play it so i cry every day. anyways..my original plan was to be part of the fractsidus under the alias Hikaru but i dont think i wanna do that anymore. so yeah i dont much abt myself here either! i really like (male) rover i hold him 🫴 maybe i'll be like jinhsi's brother or something ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)

? ⪼ Viktor, 25 years old

bare with me (bis) when i say i love viktor but i became aware of him just because i love the steampunk aesthetic and because we dont have a mechanic in this list. i'm still hesitant of him being from belobog and possibly dating luocha or jing yuan, i need to play hsr more. "( – ⌓ – )=3

Undertale ⪼ Rune, 7-8 or however old Frisk is

this is actually my first ever dr. ive had a huge undertale hyperfixation (1-3 years) and i basically made an oc which was a self insert. it was also my first ever lore which was super complicated idk how 7 year old me thought of it. when i was 9 i accidentally manifested that what happened to frisk would happen to me, i didnt know what was shifting or manifestation i just wrote down the same thing about 100 times while believing in it a lot. guess it worked with a 7 years delay because now im shifting there! i dont know how it will go but i see a happy "ending" with the monsters living with me n frisk at the surface cause WHY TF NOT.

Kaiju no.8 ⪼ haha i dont have any info on them.

i recently started watching k8 and i love it and could see myself going there, but i don't know anything about myself there ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────