#normal people are all the time.' jesus. jesus christ man

[arcenergy]

disco elysium thoughts ......

[veloriium]

ive just come to the terrible realization of how many people ive ghosted and ignored during the early periods of my life .

[fazcinatingblog]

When Sophia rang this morning, she said she'd slept on the couch, still in yesterday's clothes, had knocked over the coffee and it had spilt everywhere and everything was wet and she couldn't even light her cigarette and

[ragnars-tooth]

I should not have been taught so badly for 3 years that i genuinely have to google how to find job postings in my field. "Get a degree!! Get a degree!!" for why. To be laughed at by out of touch tutors and not taught anything? It's certainly not going to help me get a job because i CANT FIND THEM. "People will see you went here and that will give you credibility." Will it roderick. Because I now know not to trust a motherfucker who went here 💀

[kisiselintihar]

Danganronpa fandom understand how systems work and treat them normally challenge

[bigwishes]

Big's Perma Bulk!

(Community Requested Story, about me perma bulking) What's good bros! It's your favourite wish granting genie here to go on my own transformation journey. Normally I send this kind of thing off to another writer but a lot of you wanted me to be transformation using my own Genie gifts so I've waved my hands and started it off.

I made sure to completely forget about what you guys wanted for me to make it even more surprising but considering all you lot drool at a bicep vein I think I'm in good hands.

After waking up I definitely didn't have anything to worry about. I knew all of you just wanted me to become some big sweaty himbo. Just take a look.

Big arms, thick thighs and a solid chest. I won't lie if I were to make a choice I would of ended up so much bigger than this but hey, it's what you all wanted to I guess I gotta get used to being a himbo stud.

Woah...I guess day two was a little different. I'm a lot bigger ladz so cheers for that but damn, some of this definition is starting to fade. It looks like I'm sliding more to the tank side of the spectrum that the stud side. I'm pretty sure if I move wrong this tank is gonna split in too and my fucking stomach won't stop rumbling, every time I walk in my kitchen I down half a box of cereal, fuck, I should probably take a couple sandwiches back to my desk before I load up some games with the boys.

'BUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRPP'

aw fuck, sorry about that ladz but damn. I woke up this morning and my stomach feels so tight, it feels like my abs are about to split in half. My shorts are so tight around my ass.

Damn what the fuck did you guys wish to happen to me? A slab of muscle instead of abs is one thing but fuck my gut is so bloated, ah man

'UURRRRRRRRRRPP!!!'

whoops, sorry dudes, fuck this is so tight but I still feel hungry, maybe a protein shake and a bowl of rice wont gut, surely this can't get any tighter.

ahhh fuck what time is it? 3am?? why the fuck am I so hungry. I didn't even know it was possible to feel hungry and bloated at the same-

BUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPP

ah man, what do I have in the fridge, mmmmm half a pizza, well I'm sure a couple of slices won't hurt. I hit the gym pretty hard today, its probably my body wanting to fuel up. mmm yeah just 3 maybe 6 slices and I'll be good for the night, probably best to turn the light switch on so I don't make a mess...

w--what the fuck happened to me! JESUS FUCKING CHRIST I'M SO FUCKING BULKY, OH FUCK

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRPPP

DAMN....fuck well....at least it doesn't jiggle, probably just bloated from how much I've been eating recently, who knew having such big muscles would make me so hungry all the time...

hmmm, I probably shouldn't leave just 3 slices of pizza in the fridge on their, own, that's not even a snack, 9 slices is alright at this time of night yeah?

On the bright side, my muscles have continued to blow up to freakish size, my bicep is bigger than most dude's heads. On the other hand....I can't shift this tank around my mid section. I've been trying to eat less to get my abs back but fuck I can't help it, my stomach growls and I gotta eat enough to feed at least 3 people or else it feels like my stomach is gonna eat itself. It's okay, Ill just cut when summer rolls around, use this time to grow as big as I can, bet my abs will look fucking insane in a few months/

Guess the bright side is I can order that nice chocolate cake with my pizza tonight...I'm pretty sure it's cheat night tonight, or was it last night? hmm, no yeah it is definitely tonight?

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPP

ah fuck, wh- UUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRPPPPP

what happened - uurp - to me?

a few *hic* days ago I was a lean mean lifting machine

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRPPPPPPPPP

and now...fuck *hic* uuurp- I'm a big, bulky brute

fuu-UUUUUUUURPPPP-ck, my gut is so tight, moving feels like a chore....I'm so fuckin stuffed and hungry at the same time. Who knew my fans would want me to blow up into a 300lsb bulky beast...

damn...I need a shower but, I could really go for a double cheese burger and a snickers protein thick shake, I'm sure it can wait -uuurrpp- maybe I should grab a couple protein bars for the road..

BUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPP!!!!

I can still feel the spell under my skin, I wonder how much bigger these guys will make me, or what else they'll do...

[heavenbarnes]

I know you talked about meeting older bf!Simon in the alternate universe but can you please tell us how we met normal universe Simon?

oh 🥹 course i can write a little meet cute (i have oc you a little bit but that’s ok i think)

the first time you ever meet your older bf!simon, you’re actually at work.

your boss tells you and the rest of your coworkers (very late notice, might you add) that your dinky little cafe is taking part in a government run initiative-

“service for service men”

the collective hum of confusement doesn’t skip you and you’re even more confused when he tells you that different businesses are opening their doors to service men (and women technically) to allow them to integrate with their community.

you don’t want to outright say it seems performative but, it definitely seems performative.

nevertheless, you get your apron on and wait for them to arrive. you’ve already resigned yourself to the fact that, knowing your luck, you’re going to get some morally-grey weirdo.

instead you get-

“simon riley, uh- ghost”

your boss reads it from his clipboard as the man in question appears before you like an apparition. with a skull gator mask covering the lower half of his face.

ok.

you do your best to smile and give him your name when you learn quickly that this guy is a man of few words, but many grunts.

“do you prefer simon or ghost?”

he eyes you in his peripheral as you move behind the counter towards your coffee machine. he doesn’t answer and you know it’ll be a long day.

“alright, i’m picking simon”

and he doesn’t argue so you take it as a win.

you bring him to the coffee machine and explain the bare basics, you’re also hyper aware that in a few days- he’s going to go back to handling guns and never make another cappuccino in his life so you don’t go too crazy.

but he does have to make his own coffee.

“and then you would bring the milk jug to this spout and the steam froths it”

his eyes are blank, unreadable- but jesus christ can he hold a stare. you get this unshakable sense that he does not give a fuck and, honestly, you can’t blame him.

but it is your job.

“do you want to give it a go?”

his eyes flicker to the machine for a second before they’re back on yours, expecting more silent treatment you nearly jump when he speaks.

“what if i fuck it up?”

your eyebrows crinkle just a little. what? it’s a coffee machine? this man’s probably performed manoeuvres the average person didn’t know existed.

and he’s scared of a coffee machine?

you almost want to snort a little laugh but a voice in your head tells you better not. instead you step a little closer to him.

“you won’t, i won’t let you”

and he catches you in his peripheral again, ever so slightly inching closer to you. he surprises you again by speaking up.

“will y’tell me what t’do?”

“if that’s what you’d like, course i will”

and that’s what you do. massive hands dwarf the milk jug as he cradles it so not to scald the milk but moves it with a dexterity you can only admire.

“and pull it off like- that, that’s perfect”

he looks at the milk before he looks at you, almost like he’s studying your expression.

“y’sure?”

“yes- you did a good job, simon”

he turns his head before you can get a good look at his expression. as he’s pouring the milk into the mug like you’d instructed, you very nearly missed what he said.

“i prefer simon”

craning your neck so you can better see his face, you question it with a quiet hum.

“i prefer y’calling me simon- i didn’t want y’to call me ghost”

oh.

“glad i picked well then”

he doesn’t respond to that but you figure he’s not the type you push. his coffee rests on the bench before him and he’s looking at it like he wants to try.

then he’s looking around at all the people filling the small cafe and his knuckles nudge at the edge of his mask.

oh.

you don’t know how you do it but you put two and two together quite quickly. eyes darting to the door behind you, you’re telling him to follow you.

he ends up, coffee in hand, in the small break room at the back. just a table and a couple chairs with a zip boiler on the wall.

you offer him a chair as you awkwardly hover by the door. “so you can enjoy your creation”

he takes a seat and then looks at you expectantly, before nodding his head towards the other chair.

you sit, do what you’re told- and all of a sudden he’s checking his six once before he pulls the mask down.

it takes your breath away a little bit.

honestly? truthfully? he just looks like a man.

but to you? a part of you is worried that you might spend the rest of your life thinking about him.

like you might be old and grey one day without a thought left to your name but he’ll be the last thing to leave your mind.

he doesn’t break that hardline stare with you as he takes a sip. he really didn’t have to groan quietly as he did it, but he did.

you think he watches you fidget. you think you like it. you think he does too.

at the end of the day, your coworkers are complaining as you all get your bags and close up shop for the day.

“i hope they all got something out of it cause i didn’t get a single bloody thing”

you snort in amusement, minding your business as you shrug your jacket on. as your hands burrow into your warm pockets you feel your fingers brush over the small slip of paper.

you could almost trace the pen stroked digits.

yeah, didn’t get a bloody thing.

[queenie-ofthe-void]

Hear Me Out, Keep Me Guessing

Steddie || wc: 2.5k || rating: T || tags: alternate first meeting, pre-S4, Eddie is a rollercoaster of emotions, Steve is over it, fluff and flirting || ao3

Inspired by my own post

☆☆☆

“Okay, Munson. What’s your fucking problem?”

Eddie hops on top of the wooden picnic bench to gain a slight height advantage over whoever’s decided to fuck up his day, when he spots none other than Steve Harrington headed towards him through the trees, fighting his way through brush and bramble.

“Well, well, well. How the mighty have fallen. Crawling through the dirt just to visit his former court jester.” Eddie smirks, hears Harrington mutter something under his breath that sounds a lot like jesus christ before he finally makes his way over.

Harrington’s looking up at him, squinting into the sunlight, and Eddie’s slightly repelled by his sudden desire to run a hand through King Steve’s hair. It shines in the sunlight, matching the flecks of gold in his brown eyes.

Eddie takes a step to the left, casting him back into shadow again where he’s just his normal, asshole self and not the angelic image Eddie conjured from his horny, queer little brain.

He can’t remember if it’s his turn to talk or Harrington’s, but it seems the King’s lost the plot as well. Completely zoned out, he’s just standing there staring up at Eddie, mouth dropped open and eyes wide in a way Eddie will certainly not be thinking about later tonight. Absolutely not.

Eddie coughs. Loud and obnoxious enough to break whatever trance they’ve found themselves in. Harrington awkwardly chuckles, running a hand through his hair. An image of Steve leaning against lockers, towering over a girl with heat in his eyes and a hand in his hair floods Eddie’s brain before he can shake it out like an Etch A Sketch. What the fuck is even happening to him?

“Yeah, Munson. Like, what the hell is your problem?” It lacks punch and drama the second time around, but it gets them back on track. Harrington props his hands on his hips, his lip juts out into a tiny pout, and Eddie wonders if he thinks standing like a disappointed mom is effective in getting what he wants, or if being adorable just comes naturally to the former King.

“You’ll have to be more specific, my liege.” He watches as Harrington brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration and he makes a mental note to develop a better, more refined taste in men.

“The kids, man. Why aren’t you friends with the kids?”

“Kids? What the hell– what kids?” He hops down from the table. If this is going to be a legitimate conversation and not a shake down, he figures it’ll be easier on even footing. Harrington takes the seat opposite him, his shoe accidentally knocking Eddie’s ankle.

Steve doesn’t move his foot. Neither does Eddie.

“My kids, man. They said they tried talking to you all week and you wouldn’t even hear them out!”

Eddie watches his fingers tap absently on the table top. He’s biting the inside of his cheek, and it’s shocking that Eddie is just now realizing that Steve’s actually anxious. Normally Eddie considers himself better at reading people, when he’s not distracted with puffy, pink lips and a confusing line of conversation.

He looks down, rewinding the past week. He’d made it through his first week of his third senior year without anyone getting in his face. Maybe he’s old enough now that even asshole seniors like Jason Carver have decided to leave him alone. Thankfully it seems the offer also extends to Gareth, Kenny, and Jeff, who’ve only reported minor name calling and a light shove.

That’s where he spots them, stops the tape midway through lunch on Wednesday when a group of three freshmen approached the table. He’d spotted the curly-haired kid earlier in the week, bravely decked out in a Weird Al shirt and a hat from some science camp. The kid was enough of a freak to earn free admission to Hellfire, but the other two required a bit more thought.

Eddie clocked Little Wheeler through the station wagon window Monday morning when he’d cut Nancy off in the parking lot. The kid seemed alright, but with a priss like Nancy as a sister, it was a tough call. The other kid seemed a bit too sporty, and a little too interested in basketball tryouts.

When the three amigos started talking DnD, the guys invited them with open arms. It was a relatively peaceful lunch. Exciting even, at the prospect of adding new members to their campaign. They’d mentioned trying to convince a few of their friends to play. A girl named Max Mayfield, who turns out lives a few trailers down from Eddie.

But when the curly-haired kid mentioned Steve Harrington, the Hellfire boys clammed up tighter than nun’s ass. His named dripped from their mouths like it was covered in gold, the hero-worship rotting them from the inside and Eddie wouldn’t stand for it. No true freaks would stand to be friends with an asshole bully like King Steve.

Of course the freshies tried to argue, saying he’d changed. It didn’t matter to the Hellfire boys. Clearly the freshmen were corrupted, and they couldn’t be trusted. So he’d sent them on their way, and the three of them posted up in the corner of the lunchroom every day since. Far away from jocks and freaks alike.

Now, Eddie looks across the table and sees false bravado slathered over the anxiety etched into the former King’s face. He doesn’t know how three freshmen freaks found themselves under the wing of Steve Harrington, but it seems the feeling is mutual. Steve cares about these kids.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, “I remember them. What’s it to you, Harrington? Aren’t they a little too old for a babysitter.” The joke falls flat when Steve sighs, heavy and exhausted, like somehow a rich boy from the Loch carries the entire world on his shoulders.

But he plays it off, trying to meet Eddie’s quip halfway. “Babysitters get paid, dude. I do it from the goodness of my heart or some shit.” Steve leans back, scrubs his hands over his face like he can erase whatever’s behind his eyes.

Eddie stares at him, hoping to catch a glimpse. The only consolation is Steve puts his other foot on the opposite side of Eddie’s, his ankle now fully cradled between Steve’s.

“They’re nerds, man.” Harrington states it like it’s a fact and not an insult he’s hurled at Eddie a hundred times over the years. “They’re freaks, you know– like you.”

Moment officially broken, Eddie scoffs, pushing away from the table wondering why he ever entertained talking with Harrington in the first place. As he grabs his lunchbox off the forest floor, he hears shuffling behind him.

“Wait,” Harrington shouts. “Just, fuck man, can you just let me finish?”

“Finish what, exactly?” Eddie snaps, whirling around to crowd into his space. He wears big and scary like how the King wears his crown and how assassins wield their blades. With enough power and confidence to scare off any enemy. “Finish listening to you shit on the little guy? Listen to you harp on the freaks of the world, or how you corrupted your little pions?”

“What?” Steve asks, lips pursed and eyebrows scrunched. Eddie’s not surprised his jock-rattled brain couldn’t find that word in its very limited dictionary, but what does surprise him is that Steve doesn’t back down. They’re practically nose to nose, so close Eddie can spot a small freckle on his lash-line, and Steve’s standing here like he doesn't have a care in the world while Eddie screams in his face.

It’s quiet again. He can hear the rustle of tall grass and birds overhead. He can feel Steve’s breath on his lips and Eddie can’t remember what they were talking about. Again.

Steve grabs his shoulders, and in his daze, Eddie lets himself be maneuvered back to sitting at the picnic table, while Steve stands in front of him.

“Are you always big and loud and obnoxious? Can you just cut the shit for like, five minutes so we can have a normal fucking conversation. Jesus christ, you’re practically perfect for them.” The last part is quieter, seems more like an unfiltered afterthought.

“Ok,” Eddie says. If Steve’s willing to take the crown off long enough to talk with Eddie, then maybe he can shed his own metaphorical battle vest. “Say what you have to say, then.”

Steve clears his throat, shuffles slightly as he gains his footing. He looks at Eddie with a determined set to his shoulders.

“Henderson, Sinclair, and even Wheeler– they’re my kids. I’ve spent the last nine months watching out for those little shits because all they’re good at is getting into the worst kinds of trouble.” Eddie tracks him as Steve paces the forest floor, rambling and raking a hand through his hair like it helps him think. “But I remembered you didn’t graduate, right? And you run that Dungeons and Dragons club–”

“Whoa, whoa,” Eddie interrupts. Steve stops, turns to face him, and shoots him the bitchiest glare Eddie’s ever seen, but before he can say anything, Eddie pushes on. “You, Steve Harrington, King of Hawkins High, leader of meatheads and bimbos alike, know what Dungeons and Dragons is?”

Steve sighs, hands back on his hips as he rolls his eyes. “Ha ha, Munson. Don’t worry it’s all against my will, okay? I’m not coming to steal your freaks and weirdos so I can lead them too.” He smirks, and it pulls a laugh out of Eddie, shocked that Steve’s willing to joke around with Eddie at all, let alone when it’s at his own expense.

“Now, quit interrupting me, you’re as bad as Henderson.”

Eddie mimes zipping his lips closed, only to open his mouth to swallow the imaginary key. Butterflies explode in his chest at the sound of Steve laughter, and Eddie wonders if bashing his head into a tree would be a decent excuse to explain the red flush erupting on his face.

“Anyways,” Steve chuckles. “They’re smart as shit but don’t know when to give something up just to get out of a fight. I’m surprised they haven’t gotten their asses handed to them already, and everyday I pick them up all I'm thinking about is which one of them I’m gonna have to stitch up. Sure, some of the guys in the grade below were alright, like Andy. But guys like Hargrove, like Carver.” Eddie can practically see the dark cloud form over Steve’s brow.

He remembers as well as anyone the fallout of Harrington v Hargrove, Fall 1985. There’d been endless rumors about what happened, each one more ridiculous than the last. Now he’s left wondering if it’s not really about Nancy, or drugs, or Billy fucking Steve’s mom, but about these kids. The timing checks out, nine months on babysitting duties lines up pretty well with when Steve showed up to school beaten and broken.

Maybe Steve isn’t all he seems to be.

“Guys like Carver won’t mess with you. They’re too scared you’re using DnD to worship the devil and get kids into sodomy and drugs and shit like that. I told them that you’d be cool. That you’re big and loud, that you play DnD like them. You're smart and you read the same nerdy books. I told them they’d be safe with you, man.” Steve rubs his face again, until his hands fall to the sides and he tilts his head up towards the sky. “I just need to know someone’s looking out for them. Please, Eddie, just–”

“Okay.”

Steve’s attention snaps back to him, relief written plain as day in the wide set of his smile. “You’re serious?”

Eddie can’t help but smile back. He’s not sure he’s ever seen Steve smile so unguarded, and never aimed his way. The sheer brightness of it fills him with warmth he wants to wrap himself up in.

All on top of the fact Eddie's never gotten this many compliments from anyone before, let alone from a guy as gorgeous as Steve Harrington. His ears are practically on fire.

“Yeah, Harrington. I’ll share custody of your little nuggets.” Before he knows what’s coming, Steve sweeps him up into a hug, lifts him fully off the ground and can feel the tinkling of his laughter on the shell of his ear.

“Thanks, Munson. Damn, you have no idea how freaked out I’ve–”

“What about the other stuff?” Eddie can’t stop himself from asking. He has to know, deep in his bones, that Steve is thinking this through. That Steve won’t change his mind in a few days or months and decide it’s time for Eddie Munson to eat dirt.

He lets Eddie go, but holds his shoulders at arms length to look him in the eye. Any lingering mirth has been replaced with intent curiosity. “What stuff, Munson?”

He can tell by Steve’s tone they’re both talking about the same thing. Rumors that’ve haunted Eddie since eighth grade after Davey Richardson beat him up under the bleachers. It didn’t matter that Davey kissed him first, all that mattered was he was popular and Eddie was weird.

He’d grown numb to the slurs over the years, but how could he forget hearing the reason why Byers beat the shit out of King Steve. The only surprise from that fight was it sounded like he never even tried to fight back.

“Harrington, if I don’t get to act loud and obnoxious, then you don’t get to play dumb.” The intensity of Steve’s stare reminds him of the few conversations he’d had with Chief Hopper before he’d died. The man could tear Eddie down to the bones with one glare, and he’s sure it’s the only reason the Chief brought him back to the trailer instead of a jail cell.

“Eddie,” Steve says, tone firm, “I’m not that guy anymore. I don’t care about the shit people say, especially self-righteous assholes like Carver. The only thing I give a shit about is you watching over the little gremlins and not selling them drugs, so I can breathe easier when I don't have eyes on them.”

Steve shakes him lightly, like it’ll sift this world-changing view into his brain, then pats his shoulder as he passes by him.

“Wait,” Eddie shouts, always a glutton for punishment. He spins around to catch Steve walking backwards away from him, hands in his pockets, effortlessly cool. The sun’s catching his hair again and there’s a smirk on his lips. “You really don’t care?”

Steve laughs, taking a step back. He chews on his bottom lip, and he smiles when he catches Eddie looking. Because he knows. Steve knows now, before Jeff or Wayne or anyone else.

“Eddie, whoever you decide to love or fuck– or not– is none of my business.” He turns to leave, and as Eddie relaxes he hears Steve call out, “unless you want it to be.”

Steve’s light laughter follows him out of the woods, and Eddie plops himself down in the same spot on the same wooden bench in the exact same forest as he always does every Friday after school. Except a twenty minute conversation with Steve Harrington leaves Eddie feeling like his world's been turned upside down.

Maybe ‘86 will be his year, after all.

[hotvintagepoll]

Will Scarlett has lost his temporary lead in the Hot Medieval and Fantasy Man Melee, so I'm back with screenshots to prove my point that Will is the Hottest Boy in the Land. I normally avoid these types of long posts but I will do anything for my Slutty Merry Boy, so buckle in.

To introduce Will Scarlett—oh by the way here's the link to his whole movie—I think it's important context to know that when we first meet him, Robin is saving a man's life and Scarlett is staring at nothing in particular. His head is empty of thoughts. He looks this way the entire scene. I'm not sure he blinks.

As soon as the danger is over (a danger he did absolutely nothing to help with) he has a chuckle with Robin! Sunshine and laughter and roses!

The next time we see him (which is soon, because this movie loves Will Scarlett too), he is bitching because Robin had them sleep in the woods (???) and he got stabbed in the back by some acorns.

Here he is falling over a log.

Here he is getting smacked with a branch.

HERE HE IS AFTER GETTING SMACKED BY THE BRANCH.

He serves cunt continuously through the entire Little John sequence, and we don't have time for all of my screenshots, so just a quick smattering:

Here he is being hot and unsupportive when Robin decides to fight the biggest guy he's ever seen. (Scarlett literally says "your skull not mine" and then just stands there.)

Here he is getting in Robin's way.

Here he is, picking the hottest pose possible so he can be the bard and play little showtunes while Robin gets his ass kicked.

Oh my goddd fuck me.

Worth mentioning that Little John does loudly identify Will Scarlett as "a pretty fellow" and nobody contradicts this. In a world where all of Robin's men have one personality trait (big, friar, or tiny), Will Scarlett's is Slut.

Once we get out of the Will's Musical Singalong chapter and Robin goes in disguise to the archery contest, Scarlett does too, except whoever told him he couldn't wear his normal Versace didn't tell him what normal people wear because he shows up looking like this.

Absolutely nobody else in the crowd looks like that. That's just what he thinks the Normies are doing.

With Robin captured, you'd think it's time for Will Scarlett to contribute something. Unfortunately he is constitutionally incapable of not serving cunt at all times to the exclusion of all else, so Maid Marian thinks of the plot while he stands by looking really hot.

Here he is serving cunt as a monk. Jesus Christ.

HERE he actually does something during the climatic battle! I had forgotten but he does swing his sword around a little bit. He doesn't actually look hot while doing this which explains why he has never done it before.

i saved this screenshot with the caption "the beatles" and i'm not wrong.

here he is doing new things with blood eyeliner. very brat.

SUCH A SERVE THERE IN THE BACKGROUND AND FOR WHAT

in conclusion, Will Scarlett is a hot hot man who is clever (by his own estimation, never proven within the story) and extremely hot (by everyone else's estimation, proven twenty-seven thousand times over). He serves several different looks in the movie, all of them incredible, and is apparently brought along by Robin just for his charming good looks and lack of thoughts because he's certainly not good at anything else. He is the hero to all of us who want to hang out in this movie but not actually work out or hold a weapon, and the bard that every Sherwood story deserves. Vote Will Scarlett, my legend, my icon, my idiot.

@medievalandfantasymelee

[star-daughter]

So let's talk about Vivziepop's designing skills!

The amount of sadness I feel when I see Vivziepop's designs of the demons in Helluva Boss is impossibly high

Simply comparing them from where she is pulling from feels like looking at a newborn compared to a grandma. Now let's go through them!

Lucifer

Viv's Lucifer, a popular depiction of Lucifer ("The Fallen Angel" by Alexandre Cabanel), and one with Jesus ("The Temptation of Christ" by Ary Scheffer)

You can see a big difference in a lot, as you can see Lucy (which will be Viv's version) has well. Clothing but we can give her a pass for that as I don't think Youtube would be fine with an animated dick on screen. Another thing is his lack of wings, bat-like or feathered along with blonde instead of red curled hair and yellow eyes instead of the blue Lucifer has in The Fallen Angel.

But what I see as the biggest thing is Lucy's lack of muscles! In both of these depictions I have chosen Lucifer appears muscular whilst Lucy has Viv's favorite smile and body shape.

Asmodeus

Here we have Viv's Asmodeus (Ozzie) and Asmodeus from Collin de Plancy's "Dictionnaire Infernal"

I will give Viv major props, I LOVE Ozzie's design. If we removed the feathers, made his head bigger, and some small things it would be AMAZING! But comparing it to Asmodeus it's... wooo.... very different.

First you can see is Asmodeus does not look conventionally attractive with his strange old man face, elf ears, bull head, ram head, serpent tail, and literal chicken legs. Ozzie does have the 2 heads on his shoulders (just very small) and a tail (not a serpent one) but other than that the similarities end. Though I do think taking Asmodeus the direction to being physically attractive to most people was a good way to go.

A personal nit pick is the clear lack of a BADASS DRAGON. Yes, Asmodeus has a BADASS DRAGON. On his little Dictionnaire Infernal image he's sitting on a BADASS DRAGON which he holds a banner as he rides. Viv you could have made Fizz a cool dragon demon! Make him look LESS like Blitz's twin brother and more like something that related to the Ars Goetia canon.

Beelzebub

Now this is Viv's Beelzebub and a fly-like Beelzebub (Beelzebul) (I've left out the more manly versions of Beelzebub to keep it fair as Beelzebub is a woman)

So a big thing we can see is Beelzebub is a furry whilst Beelzebul is a straight up fly, taking the term "Lord of the Flies" much more seriously. Now comparing these two is basically impossible minus their wings and extra arms. Now with them looking nothing alike I'll put some of my own personal critique's in.

One, Beelzebub's hair and tail makes me want to vomit. It's constantly moving thus every frame it must be moved which is HORRIBLE on an animation stand point. Two, Her clothes. A direct quote from the Helluva Boss wiki says "Beelzebub represents the animal tamer/animal shows" when her clothing looks like that it's hard to believe. If it was casual clothes? Okay I'd believe that but it being her debut episode wouldn't you want her in her normal clothes? And that's ignoring her magical disappearing bra... is that just an arm strap? Three, the ear thing. God the ear thing! Viv said they were supposed to appear like beehives... girl what beehives have you been seeing? Maybe she meant honeycomb? Still I see zero resemblance.

Mammon

Here we have Viv's Mammon, Mammon (Mam) from the painting "The Worship of Mammon" by Evelyn De Morgan, and Mammon (Mon) from Collin de Plancy's "Dictionnaire Infernal"

As we can see Mammon looks like the Teen Titans Go Robin mixed with a Christmas tree, the Christmas theming is quite clever I'll give Viv that. Christmas is a time of greedily taking all that is given to you through gifts. Now I could complain about how Mammon is poor rep for a fat character and simply is a widened version of her normal body type but I already made a post about that

But comparing him to Mam and Mon? Nothing similar. Mam we can see appears like a very large naked buff dark skinned man whilst Mon is a freakish old man with wide eyes and tattered clothes. Mammon shares zero similarities to either of them.

Another thing is Mammon's monster form... I believe everybody has seen it and hochie momma it is HORRIBLE! From the screenshots I've seen we don't see all of it but he's clearly intended to be a spider of sorts which is great! Spiders can often be seen with 6 flies trapped on their web being hoarded for later but Viv seems to have taken the lazy route of extra legs and 2 extra set of eyes. Anthro spiders can be so so SO cool but I feel scammed. Stolen from. My life savings have been taken by this shitty design.

Paimon

Here we have Vivziepop's Paimon and Paimon (Paimonia) from Collin de Plancy's "Dictionnaire Infernal"

As we can see they appear nothing alike minus the crown and odd chicken legs though Paimon lacks the camel that Paimonia has. Paimonia also has a feminine face and a humanoid body, nothing like Paimon. Though I personally think Paimon's design is stunning what made Viv connect the two, is it because the Goetia family is intended to all be ripped from the Ars Goetia? I feel though that Paimon's design takes as much as it can from Paimonia while making him look related to Stolas but why does he need to be named Paimon?

Stolas

Here we have Vivzie's Stolas and Stolas (Stolos) from Collin de Plancy's "Dictionnaire Infernal"

So, I have a lot of issues with Stolas's design, it's ugly first of all but compared to Stolos's cute yet shocked wide eyes and charming little beak it's even more obvious how ugly it is.

First, Stolos is shown as an owl (but also is described as a Raven). which Viv got right along with keeping his crown and odd horn-like feathers. However, I believe making Stolas that skinny doesn't follow the model of most owls as they can be pretty fluffy and plump. Even Stolos has a round fluffy chest that trails into his comically long legs.

Second, that cape is very horrifying but not in a good way. Nobody wants to animate a cape with that many rips! Even if they don't have to be precise. Also, why do his buttons have no lineart when everything else around it has lineart? I have the same issue with Blitz's design and his random chest orbs.

Feel free to put in your own reblogs and replies with your opinions! You can also send in asks with designs from HH or HB that aren't linked to previously existing designs unlike these fellows and I'll throw in my personal thoughts.

-Mod Paimon

[laundrybiscuits]

(Continued from this snippet! Content notes: police interrogation, homophobia)

“You don’t look gay.” The detective gives Steve a very obvious once-over. Steve tries to look gayer as subtly as he can. 

“Sorry,” he says. “Guess I’ll have to let my boyfriend know you don’t think I look gay enough to fuck him.”

The detective’s face twists slightly, like he’s smelled something bad. “No need to be like that. I’m just saying, I bet a good-looking guy like you could get a girlfriend pretty easy.”

“You’re not my type,” says Steve. He smiles with his teeth, even though his heart is going fast and he can feel his palms starting to sweat. 

The detective’s hands tense, and Steve wonders if he’s about to get hit, but they relax again and the detective sits back.

“Just doing my job,” says the detective. “Because, funny enough, we asked around with all your little friends, and it seems like you used to be a bit of a ladies’ man.”

“Things change,” says Steve. 

“In fact…seems like none of your friends ever even saw you talk to Munson before. Moved in different circles and everything. I remember what high school was like.”

The detective leans close. 

“So why would the captain of the swim team, a nice normal boy from a good family with a string of pretty girlfriends, ever—ever—stick his neck out like this for some murdering scum like Munson? That’s what I’m trying to figure out, here.”

“Don’t fucking talk about him like that,” says Steve. His mouth is dry. His pulse is thundering in his ears. “He didn’t kill anyone. He was with me the whole time. He’s—he didn’t kill anyone.”

“Hm,” says the detective. 

It takes a while for them to stop interrogating him. They keep asking him the same questions over and over, trying to trip him up. He asks for water and doesn’t get it. In the back of his mind, a hysterical little voice is shrieking Scoops Ahoy! I work for Scoops Ahoy!, but he manages to keep it locked down. Doesn’t let himself get baited, just keeps repeating that Eddie was with him the whole time and neither of them know anything. 

It takes a while, but it’s over eventually.

When he leaves the station, Eddie’s standing outside with Hopper and Joyce Byers, wearing a shirt and jeans that definitely belonged to Jonathan at some point. Eddie’s got his hands tucked into his armpits, looking antsy and tense, but he’s free and standing on his own two feet. It’s a pretty big upgrade from when Steve last saw him about a week or two ago. 

It’s almost too easy to go straight over to him, wrapping him up in a tight hug like they’ve had their arms around each other a million times. 

“Oof. Easy there, tiger,” laughs Eddie. “I’m, uh, still a little fragile.”

“Sorry,” says Steve, and loosens his hold. He doesn’t let go all the way.

“Come on, boys,” says Joyce. “I’m taking you two home. Steve, Eddie’s been staying with us, but we’re a little short on spare beds and it’s not great for his recovery. We’re moving him to your place until we can figure out something better, okay?” 

———

Joyce drops them off and helps carry in a few garbage bags full of Eddie’s stuff. There’s not that much.

And then the door closes behind her, and Steve’s alone with Eddie for the first time since—actually, maybe ever. 

“So,” says Eddie. “What…the fuck, Harrington.”

“Is that an actual question?” Steve says. He rolls his shoulders, trying to get some of the stiffness out. “I mean, didn’t Hopper and Mrs. Byers explain everything to you?”

“Kind of? I mean, I still think this is probably the worst idea of all time, but they told me—anyway, what I meant just now was a much more personalized and individual what the fuck. As in, why the fuck would you agree to any of this? You know you’re never gonna get another girl in this town to look at you now.”

“Dumping me already? Ice cold, man.”

Eddie groans and actually throws his hands in the air in frustration. Steve hadn’t known people did that in real life. 

“Jesus christ.” Eddie wheels around and grabs two of the garbage bags. “I can’t do this right now, I need to take a fucking nap. We will be discussing this later.”

“Still don’t know what there is to discuss,” says Steve, but he picks up the last garbage bag and leads the way to the spare room. 

Eddie pitches forwards onto the bed, arms outstretched and face mashed into the pillow. “Fuck yes, I am going to marry this goddamn mattress. Hit the lights when you leave,” he says, slightly muffled. 

For a second, Steve finds himself stepping forward with a hand outstretched to—do something. He’s not sure what. Touch Eddie’s hair, or something dumb like that. His face warms. He’s really glad Eddie isn’t looking at him and doesn’t see how he’s kind of just standing there with a hand out for no reason. 

He turns around, flicking the light switch on his way out, and doesn’t look back.

[wraithlafitte]

nightmares - dean winchester

Summary: Dean wakes you up from a nightmare.

CONTENT: feminine descriptors, mixed POV, demonic possession, angst, hurt/comfort, post hell!dean, cuddling

word count: 935 (est reading time 4 mins.)

You toss and turn in bed, limbs tangling in the worn motel duvet. Images flash through your head, reminding you of pain and torture and being trapped in your own mind. It had been months since Sam drove the demon out of your body, but its fingerprints lingered in the corners of your mind, ready to creep out as soon as you closed your eyes to fall asleep.

The worst part of the nightmares is the intense feeling of anxiety and fear it induces in you. You feel like you're really back in that time, watching yourself commit atrocities you could never have dreamed of on your own.

You try to scream at the images to stop, but as in most dreams, your voice is gone. That's how it was during the possession. Your consciousness screamed for control, for mercy, but the demon's unrelenting cruelty pushed you deep into the recesses of your own mind.

You scream again, mouth hanging wide as you voicelessly plead for the horror to end.

Dean sat up slowly, groggily trying to make out the neon red numbers on the digital clock on the nightstand above him. He was sleeping on the floor, as per usual when they could only afford a room with two beds. His self-sacrificing nature wouldn't let you sleep on the floor, and Sam had gotten injured on the last hunt, so it wasn't a question.

He heard a low groan from your bed, followed by a fabric-laden thrashing of limbs. In the dark, he could barely make out your body shuddering beneath the blankets, head tossing and chest rising and falling quickly with each belabored breath you took.

He knew the feeling. Hell, nightmares from his time downstairs still plagued him from time to time.

Dean stood and went to your side, bending over you to touch your shoulder. "Hey," he whispered, giving you a gentle shake. "Y/N. Wake up."

You didn't respond, so he shook you again, a little harder. "Y/N!" he hissed.

You wake with a gasp, flying upright, heart hammering in your chest. Hands shoot out to hold you and you struggle against their grip.

"Hey, hey," you hear a familiar voice whisper. "It's me. You're okay."

You blink rapidly as a pair of eyes slowly becomes clear to you in the dark, meeting your terrified gaze. Dean.

You heave a relieved sigh and lean forward, dropping your head on his shoulder. He takes you into his arms easily, all pretense of not caring about you forgotten.

"Jesus Christ," you whisper into his shoulder.

Dean rubs your back comfortingly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

"Better than what I was seeing."

He doesn't press, but lets you relax into his body as your heart rate slowly returns to normal.

"God, Dean," you say quietly after a while. "Does it ever stop?"

"No," he replies ruefully, one hand now stroking your hair. "I wish I could say it did."

Tears prick at your eyes as memories come flooding into your mind again. "I can't forget the things I did," you manage. "I can't ever unsee-"

Dean takes you by the shoulders and holds you away from him. "That wasn't you, ya hear me? How many times do I have to tell you it wasn't your fault?"

"I know, but it was still me, Dean." The tears are threatening to escape now, but you hold them back. You will not cry in front of this man, who has gone through so much worse. "These hands killed people."

Dean sighs, pulling you back into him. "I know. It's hard to deal, but you gotta try."

You shudder, tears finally rolling down your face and dampening his shirt. "I'm not... strong like you."

"I know you can do it," he whispers, hand finding your hair again, tangling in the strands. "You're stronger than you think. I don't know a lot of people who were conscious for that long during a possession and can still form a coherent thought, much less continue to hunt down these sons of bitches like you do."

You sniffle, turning your head into his neck. Deep in your heart of hearts, you know he's right.

"I know it's hard," Dean continues. "But if anyone can beat this, it's you. You're one badass lady." He chuckles, trying to lighten your mood.

Your heart melts at this. "Thanks," you whisper, tears subsiding.

"Think you can go back to sleep?" he asks gently.

"Not really," you say glumly. You pull away and hesitate deeply before asking in a small voice, "Can you... stay? With me?" Your eyes refuse to meet his. He's going to tell you to suck it up, you know it.

"Yes."

Your eyes flit up to his, surprised and relieved. Dean looks at you warmly, gently, before getting up and raising the covers, nudging you to the side as he lays down next to you.

You face him, feeling his hand travel up your hip and stop on your waist. A surge of bravery and emotion hits you, and you lean forward, leaving a gentle kiss on his lips. When you back away, he looks surprised, and for a moment you fear you've just done something that will make your friendship irrevocably damaged.

But he just pulls you into him, kissing your forehead and resting his chin atop your head, pressing you into his large body comfortingly.

You feel relieved for the millionth time that night. No more words need to be said. You fall asleep like that, nestled in his arms, breathing in his familiar, comforting scent.

[kimi240302]

Daylight

A/N: Before you read this story, be aware I am from Germany and can't write a bit of English. That's why I'm sending this through an app that translates it for me. 

A/N2.0: In this story, the characters are all a little older. 

Summary: Y/N Swan tries everything to keep her promise to stay away from Demetri Volturi. But can you stay away from the man fate bound you to?

Demetri Volturi x Female!Swan!reader 

Words: 2,8

Part 1 of Daylight Masterlist

Main Post / Twilight Masterlist / Request list  / Playlist

18+ I am new to the whole smut writing so please be nice 

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“ You and I drink the poison from the same vine Oh, I love it and I hate it at the same time Hidin´ all of our sins from  the daylight” - David Kushner 

"You have to promise me that Y/N." Bella looked at her younger sister with piercing eyes. However, the latter did not understand what her older sister and the Cullens family had. Confused, the young girl looked up from her place on the couch. "Why should I promise you to stay away from Demetri Volturi? I don't even really know this man?" "Y/N..." Carlisle began, but Bella interrupted him. "The less she knows, the better it is for her!" Y/N jumped up angrily. "Tell me Bella are you kidding me?! I didn't know anything when you dragged me to Italy with you. I didn't know there were vampires or people who could turn into giant wolves. I was normal, I was happy." The young girl stopped, took one deep breath and wrapped her arms around herself. "Now I'm scared of what lies ahead, being bound to a vampire who is apparently the villain for you? But instead of explaining everything to me, I'm supposed to bluntly forget what I've seen, heard and felt because it's easier for you and your oh-so-great Cullens? You want me to make a promise I don't even understand just because you don't like the Volturi?" Y/N took another deep breath. Her vision blurred from tears she wasn't ready to let Bella see. "Let me tell you something Bella, I don't like Edward either. Yet I'm not telling you to stay away from him or how to live your life!" Y/N turned on her heel and left the Cullens' living room, leaving the entire family in stunned disbelief.

"She's right." Carlisle was the first to find his voice again. "Y/N has been through a lot the last few days. We should have explained everything to her calmly first and then..." "And then what? Demetri Volturi won't leave her alone. Not when she's his mate."  Rosalie looked at everyone around once, her gaze stopping on Bella. "You pushed her into this world, now you can't just kick her out. That's not how it works." "I'm just trying to protect her!" Rosalie raised an eyebrow. "Then you shouldn't have taken her with you." Esme looked at Rosalie warningly. "What happened can't be undone. Blaming each other doesn't change that anymore." The vampire turned to her husband, placing a hand on his arm as she did so. "You should talk to Y/N, after all, you know the Volturi best." Slowly he nodded, "But not today. Y/N needs to process what all happened from today first."

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Humming to herself, Y/N was just turning around in the kitchen of her home to get to the fridge when, out of nowhere, Carlisle stood in front of her. "Jesus Christ! Do you have to scare me like that!" Amused, the blond-haired man looked at Y/N. "Sorry. I forget sometimes that not everyone, can hear everything that's going on around them."   Nodding, Y/N looked at Carlisle, which turned into an uncomfortable silence that the young girl was the first to break.  Sighing, Y/N let herself sink down on the chair in the kitchen and looked at Carlisle. "My father isn't here." "We both know I'm not here for your father Y/N." He lowered himself to the chair across from her. The latter tensed slightly. Reassuringly, Carlisle placed his cold hand on the young girl's. "I'm here to give you an idea of why Bella and my family want you to keep your distance from Demetri and the rest of the Volturi." Y/N just nodded and looked at Carlisle tensely. "You should know that the Volturi clan that Demetri belongs to are kind of like our supreme ones. They rule over the species of vampires and have done so for a very long time. Led by the three kings you met in Italy. Aro the head one, he can see everything you think, what you have experienced or what you have planned with one touch. He can be very overwhelming. But I think you have already witnessed this. He's occasionally..." Carlisle searched for the right words, but Y/N filled the void for him. "Extreme when you're not used to it?" Carlisle smiled, nodding as he did so. "Aro is extreme when it comes to enforcing the rules and can get too brutal in the process. But Caius is the one who has the most fun punishing those who have done wrong in his eyes." "What is his ability?" "He has none, other than his viciousness, he is simply loyal to Aro. Marcus, on the other hand, is the calmest of the three. His passion for life was taken from him when his wife was killed. His ability is to see the relationships between individuals." Y/N nodded. "And what does that have to do with Demetri?" Carlisle sat up a little straighter. "Demetri is part of the Kings' main guards with Felix, Jane and Alec. They do jobs and make sure no one can overthrow the Volturi. They do that by wiping out entire clans or individuals." "So he's an murderer?" Carlisle winced briefly. He hadn't expected Y/N to answer so directly with such a neutral expression on her face. "You can look at it that way, yes. But the main reason Bella wants you to stay away is because the Volturi feed on human blood. They don't see humans as equals, they just see them as something to feed on. Bella...we're all worried that Aro will see you as a threat to Demetri's loyalty and will have you killed."

Y/N let herself sink against the back of the chair with drooping shoulders. Several minutes of silence passed until the young girl cleared her throat. "Marcus lost his wife and became sad, absent and quiet after that?" Confused, Carlisle nodded and was about to ask why, but Y/N kept talking. "Was she his mate?" Again Carlisle nodded. "Is this what happens to vampires when they find their mate and can't be with them?"  Carlisle was startled by these thoughts. "I don't know. But I suspect this may lead to that." Y/N looked closely at the man in front of her. "Then you must really hate the Volturi if you wish such a fate for Demetri."

"Y/N..." Bella stood in the kitchen doorway. "I just want what's best for you." Defeated, the young girl looked down at her hands, which she had folded in her lap. "I won't say I understand this whole vampire thing, or if I even really want to understand it. But I do know that I don't necessarily want to be dragged into the middle of this whole thing. The Volturi thing is your thing, not mine and even if you think that the visit to Italy has dragged me into it, you are wrong. I have my life and I will live it how I want." Bella and Carlisle both wanted to say something, but Y/N's raised hand stopped them. "I will promise you Bella and the Cullens that I will do my best to stay away from Demetri." Bella smiled at her. "As long as you're here in Forks, nothing will happen to you. We'll all make sure of that." Y/N twisted her mouth into a pained smile. "There's something you should know. Our father already knows, and he supports me completely in this. I'm moving to Seattle next week." "What are you going to do there, and by yourself? Does mom know about this?" "I got a school offer, which I can't refuse. Mom was the one who helped me to fill out and get everything I needed for it. I'm going to start packing today." "Y/N you can't just leave now" Bella spread her arms, setting to say more. But Y/N simply got up to leave the room. "You willingly entered the world of the supernatural. I didn't, that's what you decided for me, and now I'm deciding for me to leave."

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"Are you settling in okay?" Y/N set her phone down on her desk and saw Bella making herself comfortable on her bed. "Bella I've been gone for six months. I almost feel like I'm home already." Bella laughed. "I still can't believe my younger sister is the first of us to live alone." Smiling, Y/N looked around her one-bedroom apartment. It wasn't much, however it was nice and big and cozy. Everything she needed to get by on her own. "Now tell me what is Seattle like and your school?"

Y/N's face was barely noticeably twisted as she began to talk about her school. She loved Seattle and the people she had made friends with. They helped Y/N get out of herself and enjoy her life like the young girl never had before. But the feeling of constantly having eyes on her didn't leave her. As if someone was constantly in her shadows. Several times, she could swear she thought she saw Demetri Volturi. The first time, Y/N was sitting in a café with friends, relaxing after a long day at school. The second time was at the library and the last was at a club where she had gone to celebrate a Friday with her class.  However, she did not tell Bella about it. She didn't want her to worry or make up anything so that her parents would send Y/N back to Forks. Because she was sure her sister would go to such lengths to keep an eye on her. Especially now that Bella had calmed down a bit when it came to the subject of Demetri Volturi.

"Damn!" Y/N looked around at her desk, "What's wrong?" Bella looked at her sister with concern. The latter, annoyed with herself, just shook her head. "I have to turn in this homework tomorrow, and the book I need to do these assignments is in my locker at school." "Then just ask for more time." Y/N shook her head. "I can't, but the library is still open and I know they need to have that book there." "Be careful, will you?"  "I always am Bella!" The addressed raised an eyebrow and was about to say something, but Y/N pointed her index finger at her sister, "People who jump off cliffs voluntarily should be quiet!" Defensively, Bella raised her hands. "I'm not saying anything anyway!" "Better that way."

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Y/N shakily rubbed her hands together as she walked down the street. Seattle was cloudy as the smell of a coming rain worked its way to the surface. The shivering came, but not only from the cold air, but also because of the renewed feeling of being watched. Discreetly, she turned her head from right to left. But she could not see anything that seemed strange to her. Shrugging her shoulders, Y/N looked for her headphones in her bag and put them in her ears, hoping to get rid of the feeling as quickly as possible. In the library she asked directly at the entrance if the book she needed was really here and was relieved when the librarian said that the book was in the back of the library.

Again with her headphones in her ears, Y/N walked past the many bookshelves. Every now and then she let her fingers glide over the various book spines, while she hummed softly along to the melody. The shadow that followed her stayed out of the young girl's thoughts. Nor did she notice him standing almost directly behind her as she stopped in front of one of the shelves, her eyes roaming over the various book spines. Annoyed, Y/N pulled a frown from her face. The book she needed was on the top shelf. Standing on her tiptoes, she reached for the black leather book, but only her fingertips touched the spine. With a sigh, she stood back up properly and was about to turn around to go back to the front to ask for a stool or other help.

Y/N froze, however, when a body came up directly behind her, or rather when the upper body of a stranger nestled directly against her back and she saw a pale hand reaching for the book. Startled, Y/N pushed the air out of her lungs and turned around. At the quickness of her turn, her headphones fell to the floor and rolled away in different directions. But the young girl no longer cared, because when she looked up, Y/N saw into a pair of red eyes. Demetri Volturi stood not two inches from Y/N, looking down at the young Swan. A smile had settled on his lips, which was more akin to a Predator having his prey where he wanted it than pure friendliness.

"Demetri..." Y/N sounded breathless, which only made the vampire smile wider. "Good evening mon amour. Is this what you needed?" Demetri ignored her questioning look and held the book between them, but Y/N didn't even notice it. She was too distracted by his closeness and his eyes. "What are you doing here?" The blond-haired vampire tilted his head slightly. His smile softened as he lifted his left hand, the one not holding the book, to brush a stray strand behind Y/N's ear. "I came to check on you." Unwillingly, Y/N closed her eyes as Demetri slid his cold fingers back over her cheek. Instantly, goosebumps spread all over her body as she leaned a little further into his touch. Y/N couldn't help it, it was almost as if something was pulling her towards Demetri.

"This isn't your first time here, is it?" Slowly, her eyelids fluttered open. Slightly, Demetri shook his head. His hand lingered on his mate's cheek. "You've just never been alone." Absently, Demetri placed the book, behind Y/N on the shelf. His hand he placed as a support on the edge of just that. In this way he enclosed Y/N and at the same time came even closer to her. His lips were just above hers. "Demetri, what are you doing?" Panic slowly spread through Y/N. Her hands went to his chest, where she tried to push him away. But Demetri just stopped, no matter what Y/N was trying to do. When the vampire put his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, she gave up. Y/N curled her fingers into Demetri's jacket and studied him. His left hand rested on her waist while he slightly strengthened the grip of his right hand on the shelf, making the wood creak in protest.

"I tried to stay away from you after I overheard your conversation with Bella. After I listened to you promise her to stay away from me." Demetri stopped. Still with his eyes closed, he moved his forehead away from hers. He tilted his face slightly forward so that his lips were only millimeters from hers. Y/N drew in a sharp breath as Demetri let his lips move further over her skin to her cheek, to her neck. There he found her pulse point and placed a kiss directly on it.

Y/N's eyes widened in shock as her fingers clawed tighter into his jacket. "Demetri?" Her voice trembled. "Don't do this, please!" Now the young girl sounded tormented. Demetri released his lips from her neck and looked at Y/N again. "Admit it Cheri, you were thinking of me as much as I was thinking of you. Of my hands on your waist, my voice close to your ear, like in Volterra when I finally found you." Again she closed her eyes, almost as if it caused her pain to admit this simple truth.

Y/N still remembered clearly the day she met Demetri Volturi for the first time. His arms wrapped around her so that he could better protect her. The way he had whispered in her ear that she shouldn't be afraid because he would keep her safe. The way he didn't let go of her until he was sure the danger was over. Nor had she forgotten the feeling of safety and security that Demetri had triggered in her.

"Tell me you haven't thought about me for a second and I'll let you go. You won't see me again." Demetri came closer to her lips again. Y/N opened her mouth to tell him to leave, but nothing came out. So she closed it again. Because the truth was, she hadn't stopped thinking about him. Demetri released his right hand from the shelf and let it wander to the back of Y/N's neck. He pulled her a little closer to him. Prevented her from looking away. "Say it!" He challenged her, his eyes falling on Y/N's lips. "Tell me you hate me!" "I can't." Demetri's eyes settled on hers again. He saw the confusion and at the same time the craving he himself felt when he was near Y/N. Demetri broke eye contact, lifted his lips to Y/N's forehead and placed a lingering kiss there. When he released his lips from her skin, he lowered them to her ear. "How long can you hide your sins from the daylight?"

Confused, Y/N wanted to know what Demetri meant by that, but in the next moment he was gone and so was the feeling of his closeness.

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A/N3.0: Please let me know how it was and if you want a second part?

@hc-geralt-23​

[1d1195]

Love and Dryer Sheets I

I haven't figured out how long this will be just yet but I anticipate at least three parts. This is where I'll keep the rest of it: Love and Dryer Sheets

~3.6k words (I know it's shorter. I just want to post and get some more ideas flowing)

Warnings: Harry is VERY grumpy/angry, right person, wrong place.

“I never miss the opportunity to say I told you so,” she giggled.

Harry snorted as he chuckled. “Your boyfriend mus’ love that,” he mumbled.

“Very smooth, Harry.”

The door slapped open and hit against the wall loudly so that she had no choice but to look up. The sound was followed by a tall man entering the room with a scowl on his face. He looked like he was having an internal argument with someone that wasn’t even privy to the conversation. She glanced away from the page she was reading briefly at the noise but turned right back to the book to give the grumpy person their own space. But it didn’t stop her from discreetly peeking up from the novel to catch sight of how pretty the man was. The first thing she noticed was his height and his scowl. But his hair was the color of chocolate twisting around his head in the softest, gentlest curls she had ever seen on a man. His skin was tanned, and he looked like he should be a model for sweatpants. Below the scowl, she could just make out that his eyes were green, but she was too far away to make out much more.

Except that he was very beautiful.

So beautiful that not even his crankiness could take her mind away from the idea of him. It seemed wrong that he was so angry. Someone as attractive as he was shouldn’t have been that upset. Especially about laundry. The anger had to be misplaced.

Stop analyzing a stranger just because he’s hot. Her brain yelled at her.

“Can’t even...” he grumbled. “Fucking laundry,” he slammed the washer lid shut and continued his angry mumbles.

She pretended not to hear and stopped stealing glances. It seemed he only just realized he was doing laundry because he muttered something unintelligible about detergent as he made his way over to the little dispensary machine containing fabric softener and the like. He dropped five quarters in it, grumbling the entire time, and twisted the knob. But unfortunately, there was nothing. No detergent fell from the space the way it was supposed to. She had only watched this man for all of a minute, but she already knew the inconvenience was going to be bad for his already crummy mood.

He slammed the side of his fist into the machine causing a loud metallic clang to echo through the room. Loud enough to be heard over the sound of the washers and dryers running throughout the room. “Jesus fucking Christ!” He ran a hand over his face. She wondered what his next move was going to be but without her really realizing, she started to speak.

“Hey, I have detergent if you need some,” she offered kindly. Smooth. Her internal voice rolled its eyes. Interact with the maybe psychopath yelling at laundry. Honestly, she did it more as a favor to herself than to the stranger. Conflict was one of her least favorite things. Even if he was having conflict with an inanimate object. Growing up in a household where her parents displayed argument after argument as if it were normal for two people who “loved” each other to constantly talk in terms of passive aggressive remarks and angry tones for hours of her childhood did a number on her. As it was with the laundry debacle here, it felt like it was her responsibility to mediate the argument. Reduce the tension. Find a solution.

He only just seemed to realize he wasn’t alone in the communal laundry room. It was a bit naïve on his part to forget it, even. The laundry room was often one of the busiest spaces in the apartment building. Moreover, there were about five or six washers and dryers going at any one time—like right now. Usually, people just left their stuff but here was this girl sitting on top of the washer, one leg propped up so she could lean her book against it while the other dangled over the front of the machine and rested on the top of her overturned tall basket.

The angry air left him in a heavy sigh. He turned more directly toward her. “Sorry ‘bout that,” he sounded a bit shy. Embarrassed by his outburst it seemed. She slid off the washer and lifted her basket right side up to reveal the jug of detergent and a bag with folders and papers in it. Briefly he wondered what they were, but it was none of his business and it was weird he wanted to know. He hadn’t even learned her name yet.

“S’okay. Laundry can be intense, I get it,” she joked.

He smirked, feeling the annoyance leave him the longer he looked at her. She was so pretty. He shouldn’t have thought that way. Not at all. But it was impossible not to notice. Her hair was in a ponytail and pieces were falling around her face like she meant for it to frame her features. It was like the little strands were pointing directly at her with the intention of drawing his eyes across her kind face. The slope of her lips, the way her cheeks bloomed as she smiled gently at him, how the corners of her eyes crinkled and her lashes brushed against her cheeks when she blinked.

Stop. It. His brain hissed at him.

“Thanks,” he said taking the jug from her and moved over to his washer. He felt all the anger that was rattling his body disappear as he undid the cap, poured the liquid into it, and started the washer. He returned the detergent back to her. “Sorry, ‘bout m’slamming around,” he said sheepishly. “S’jus’...been a day,” he rubbed a hand on the back of his head awkwardly, feeling bad that he looked like an idiot. She shrugged.

“S’okay, doesn’t bother me,” she reached out and grabbed his hand effortlessly. She turned it over as if she randomly grabbed strangers’ hands all the time. “Thought you might have hurt yourself,” she murmured and then dropped his hand. He wished she didn’t, though. Her gentle touch felt like heaven.

He cleared his throat because he absolutely could not find himself losing his mind over a girl he had met for thirty seconds. “M’Harry,” he said.

“Nice to meet you,” she smiled introducing herself. “I just moved in... third floor, just a little under a week ago.”

Harry nodded. “Welcome,” it sounded a little sarcastic, but not in a mean way. “M’on the fifth floor,” he said. Tell her. Tell her right now. His conscience shouted at him. She hopped back into her position on top of the washer and resumed her reading position. “You don’t have t’stay with your clothes,” he told her as he checked the dials on the machine he was using.

“Hold over from college. My last apartment building was also not very good about it,” she shrugged. “I don’t trust it, but I don’t mind. I have a good book.”

Harry glanced at the title, committing it to memory so he could go purchase his own. No. Don’t. Stop it. You can’t do that. His conscience was screaming but he simply ignored it. It was the first time he didn’t feel angry in hours. She was just this bright little spot in the basement of the apartment building. It was a rainy Saturday and the only light coming in was from the egress windows. It wasn’t very light at all; merely the sun trying to force it’s way through the clouds above but getting trapped among the rain drops. Harry was feeling angry and the weather wasn’t helping.

But there was this...kind and lovely angel just sitting on a washing machine. Inspecting his hand for injury. Pure, gentle, perfect sunlight.

“Gotcha,” he murmured. “Well...m’doing other chores and things...I’ll be back down later.”

“Okay, nice meeting you, Harry,” she smiled. “I hope your day gets better,” her words were warm with kindness. It made him feel off kilter. He had been so angry all day that he nearly forgot what it was like to feel...happy.

He managed to smile at her, give a little wave, and left without another word.

Shortly after he left, she found herself a little flustered by the interaction. She was surprised she inspected his hand like that. It was totally out of character to be so forward—offering detergent and help, checking for injury. But really, taking his hand allowed her to admire the tattoos that lined his wrist and forearm and how the veins in his hand looked like the prettiest spiderweb she’d ever seen. Part of her hoped she would run into Harry again while doing laundry. Smiling, she returned her attention to her book and thought she really wouldn’t mind being around Harry for a longer time period.

*

Harry’s anger was renewed as he headed back to the laundry room. His chest was achy with the feeling of anxiety and a pressure forming from the annoyance he felt in his life. Part of him thought he should have just stayed in the laundry room with the girl that reminded him of sunshine.

That’s a stupid idea, and you know it.

He was really beginning to hate his conscience.

But his anger skyrocketed further as he entered the laundry room to see piles of laundry on top of washers. First, he was irritated because he was going to be livid if someone touched his clothing. This hadn’t happened in the year and a half he had lived there. But of course, it was going to happen on a day that he was simmering in anger over everything. Maybe more importantly, he thought he had given poor advice to Sunshine, and he was not happy that he did that.

Did you seriously just call her SUNSHINE? His brain was having independent thoughts, but Harry ignored it.

He was practically shaking with anger as he marched over to the washer that he had used earlier in the day. Other washers had piles of wet, crumpled clothing items on top of them waiting for the person to find them and be just as bitter and annoyed as Harry was. But instead, Harry found the washer he was using and none of his clothes had been moved. He felt his face pinch in confusion. That didn’t seem right.

But in place of a lump of wet clothes, was a piece of paper. He felt the confusion deepen. At the very least it made him forget how angry he was. At least for a few minutes. Scrawled across the paper read:

Out of Order. Do NOT use. -Management

Harry felt a new wave of anger wash over him almost instantly. If his clothes were damaged or stuck or something he might lose his mind. But he opened the washer and found his clothes were perfectly spun out. Smelled like the air after it had just rained. The confusion he felt continued as he pulled the items out of the washer and dropped them into the basket so he could throw them in a dryer next. He reread the note on the lid trying to figure out why the apartment management would say the washer was broken when it very obviously wasn’t.

He pulled the paper off the washer allowing someone else to use it now. As he did, he caught sight of writing on the back.

Told you so :) -304

Harry felt the urge to run out of the laundry room, wet basket of clothes and all, and knock on the door labeled 304 until she answered. He wanted to read beside her. Ask to use one of her dryer sheets or whatever it was that made her laundry smell so good. Her little knowing “told you so” didn’t even bother his already fragile, grumpy state. In fact, it only made him like her more.

STOP IT. His brain shouted. Shaking his head, Harry rid himself of his thoughts of Sunshine. What else am I supposed to call her? He asked rhetorically to his conscience. Instead, he tried not to think about her. He had only chatted with her for all of four minutes and that couldn’t have been nearly enough time to think he was already falling for her...right?

*

Today she was laying across two washers, a book above her head. She didn’t notice when people filtered in or out and no one paid any mind to her either.

Until Harry showed up.

“More laundry?” He asked.

She smiled, folding the corner of her page down and sitting up so she looked less crazy. Harry had a basket at his hip, and she noted there was a jug of detergent on top of the pile of laundry inside. “I love laundry,” she shrugged.

He wrinkled his nose at her in distaste. “M’least favorite,” he murmured.

“Aw, that’s too bad,” she frowned.

“Thanks for saving m’washer the other day,” he said dumping the items into the washer along the back wall—opposite of where she was seated.

She smiled down at the book in her lap and then looked up at the back of his head. “I never miss the opportunity to say I told you so,” she giggled.

Harry snorted as he chuckled. “Your boyfriend mus’ love that,” he mumbled.

“Very smooth, Harry. Unlike my ex-boyfriend, my imaginary one thinks that my perfectionism and tendency to be right is admirable. He clings to my every thought and word,” she fluttered her eyelashes cutely. If she were magic, she would have made a halo appear above her head.

He rolled his eyes at her and nodded. Tell her! His conscience yelled. RIGHT now. He ignored it as he had been since the last time he saw her. “A new book?” He asked instead.

She nodded, flipping the book over in her hands inspecting the front and back cover carefully. “Yeah...I try to read three books a month. The last one was a little dense but this one is a quick read. Entertaining, ya know?” She smirked. “It’s a little cheesy but it’s cute. It makes me happy,” she shrugged.

Harry thought that was sweet. He wanted her to be happy.

Stop. It.

She watched Harry throw everything in the washer in one load. “You should separate the light and dark stuff.”

“I’ve never had a problem with it before,” he shrugged. “S’this you trying t’be right again?”

She laughed and looked at her lap. The heat rose to her cheeks. “No, actually. Told you, just really like laundry. I notice a difference in my own stuff. But if you don’t obviously it’ll be fine,” she shrugged back. “I just really like laundry,” she repeated.

Part of him wanted to do exactly as she said. But even Harry, not just his conscience, thought it would be too much. She watched as he poured in the detergent, closed the lid, and then he hopped on top of his washer just like her. They were facing one another. She could see how green his eyes were now, a little bloodshot around the iris, she wondered if he had a late night and what from. His smile was sweet, a deep dimple dented the middle of his cheek depending on which side of his lips lifted when he smirked. But right now, he was smiling completely, making him look so innocent and boyish. It made her stomach flutter.

“So...are you in school still? Or do you have a job?” She asked.

“M’gainfully employed. Work in the financial district.”

“A corporate sellout,” she remarked neutrally.

Harry smiled again shaking his head at her banter. “Oh? And you, Sunshine? Y’work for the Lollipop League?”

“It’s the Lollipop Guild, and Lullaby League, actually. But no,” she snorted. “I work in the hospital as a counselor,” she said. “I can see how you would think it’s like being on the set of The Wizard of Oz.”

Harry tapped his fingers against the washing machine and pursed his lips at her. “Mus’ be a tough job,” he murmured.

She nodded. “It’s rewarding though. Gives me a cathartic cry about once a week,” she opened her book back up to where she stopped. She felt Harry watching her though and she realized she probably shouldn’t have admitted to an almost stranger that she cried so often.

Harry hated the idea of her sadness. She was the embodiment of sunshine. Tears shouldn’t have been allowed in her eyes nor on her face. His conscience was angry and loud. Harry Styles stop it.

She let the silence wash over them and Harry didn’t seem to mind. They both went to their books and read silently for a while. She giggled cutely every so often and Harry thought it was an adorable sound. He wished he could ask what she had read. He wanted to recite things to her that made him think of her.

Harry was properly and crazily losing his mind.

The words on the pages of her book blended together. She thought Harry was meant to just be looked at for hours upon hours. He was so insanely beautiful it made her mind turn to mush.

He had to be her soulmate, surely. He mentioned her favorite movie and book completely unprompted. She wanted to ask if he had ever read the book or if he liked the movie. If he would ever want to watch it with her in her apartment cozied up on the couch with apple cider. Growing up, her dad read the twenty-four chapters in a loop over the course of months and years. She found Oz completely magical. It was unbelievable that a total stranger would bring it up.

It had to be fate, right?

She could probably recite the book from memory. When she found out about the movie, she watched it on VHS and then DVD and now streamed it at least once a month or played it in the background when she did chores. It was something she had little ones watch at the hospital and she dressed up as a different character every Halloween to pass out candy to the little ones when trapped in their hospital rooms.

Fortunately, her washer buzzed, alerting her she was done, and Harry glanced up briefly and gave another cute little smirk that she was beginning to think was simply meant to keep her up at night—and maybe looking for things to wash.

“So...s’jus’ you in apartment 304?” He asked.

She smiled to herself. If this was his way of flirting it was lame. “Yeah, just me.”

“Awful lot of laundry you’re doing,” he muttered.

She threw her stuff into a dryer, tossing in the scented beads that made her clothes smell good along with a dryer sheet. “I told you I do laundry the right way.”

He chuckled and she thought that his laugh might have been her new favorite sound. “S’fair, I suppose,” he remarked. Slipping off his washer, he inspected her new book and the back cover. He mentally wrote the title down once more. “Do y’have a favorite book?” He asked.

She nodded. “S’kind of silly. It’s The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. My dad used to read it to me before bed. And I like history and there’s theories on the symbolism for the populist movement—I don’t know. It just makes me think of my childhood and of course the movie was just—” She stopped suddenly, and Harry was completely riveted by the beginning of her explanation.

“What, Sunshine?” He asked so gently. It felt like he was wrapping her in his arms and whispering in her ear. It was like he was trying to reach into her chest and hold her heart in his hands himself. It was sweet and she hated how nice it felt after they had spoken in total for maybe seven minutes since meeting.

She didn’t turn around to look at him. But she could feel his gaze warming her as he watched her fiddle with the dryer. “Just...don’t want to bore you about The Wizard of Oz.”

He ignored what his conscience was shouting at him once more. “I don’t think y’could bore me,” he murmured.

She turned then, looked at him with these beautiful round eyes that he swore were little suns and brightened the whole room as she met his gaze. “Guess the only way we’ll find out is if we keep chatting. Tell me about your book,” she suggested gently. It was an invitation and Harry didn’t really know what to say because the book hardly made any sense over the last few minutes. He was intently focused on her when he was supposed to be reading. He managed to make up something about how it wasn’t much of a page-turner yet but liked it well enough and thought it would get better.

Eventually, Harry’s washer signaled it was time to switch to the dryer and he worried their time was truly limited because before he knew it, her dryer was done. She stayed to fold her stuff, and they continued reading and chatting casually.

She was falling hard for Harry. It seemed it was inevitable. Between the gentleness he showed her in such a short time, the mention of her favorite story, and simply being there during her favorite chore, it was like Harry was meant to meet her. Meant to find her in the laundry room and befriend her so quickly.

There was no use denying she hoped it would escalate to something more.

Harry’s conscience continued to tell him what a terrible idea it was to keep up this...pretense with her. But his heart was saying that he needed warmth, needed the kindness she showed in just the little bit of time he had been around her.

Sunshine was his cure.

--

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[sixofcrowdaydreams]

I was incredibly lucky enough to get to visit London and see Next to Normal twice in the short time I was there (and meet Jack Wolfe at the stage door!) But lots of fans might not have the same opportunity, so I wanted to share some details about the production and the changes/additions made to the performance since the Donmar production because I remember eagerly reading as many details as possible once upon a time.

Obviously, spoilers ahead for acting choices and stage directions. (Personally, I love spoilers and knowing what to look for in a production, but if you have the chance to see the show and want to be surprised, this is a good place to stop reading.

First off, Diana is shown as waaaaaay more crazy. Her behavior is far more erratic and there's never a moment when you think she's lucid and in control. Personally, I liked this change because I felt like in the Donmar production she was too... normal? She didn't quite behave as the person who broke down in the market, set the house on fire, crashed the car, and jumped in the swimming pool. Here, I completely believe she did all those things. Diana is hypersexual, ripping her top off as she runs past Natalie in the beginning to go have sex with Dan. She plants a kiss on Henry, to Natalie's utter horror, the first time she meets him. (Dan does not react to this, haha, he's used to it.) All of Diana's interactions with with therapists have an undercurrent of overly flirty, sexual dialog. Obviously, this is one sided and unreciprocated from the therapists. At one point she tells the therapist that she's flattered, but her husband is waiting in the car and it's impossible to see it as anything other than super sexual. (She's kinda into it though...) Diana lays curled on the floor more often clutching her head. You never doubt that she is manic.

Let's talk about Gabe.

Jack Wolfe rewrote the role of Gabe, there's no denying that. Instead of the menacing looming ghost, all American jock ghost, Jack plays him as a soft boy. The ultimate soft boy. And I didn't know it was possible, but he ramped that energy up 100% in this production. Jesus christ, he couldn't have been any more adorable if he stood on stage batting his eyelashes. Not only is Gabe played as a soft boy, he's particularly played as being very child-like. It's quite the duality. He has the body and mentality of a supposed 18 year old. He makes a joke about not taking coke "right now," and taunts his father with the location of the car keys at the beginning of the show. Later he reminds his mother that young people in love are horny.

Yet, Gabe's emotional responses, reactions to those around him are extremely childish. It really struck me how similar his expressions of joy, fear, and anger were to my toddler. Eerily similar. In a new addition, his face lights up with uncontrolled joy, giggling when he sees the music box. (His music box.) Gabe jumps to sit on the counter, and hugs it to his chest as he and Diana listen to the music.

There are moments when he is hurt by watching his parents fight and looks absolutely wounded. Like, shoulder hunched, chin tucked in looking down completely betrayed. Another new addition to this production includes Gabe turning his head away and closing his eyes as his mother flushes her pills down the drain. He does not want to see her do it. The dialog is a little at odds with this action because he still tells Diana that he thinks she's being very brave even though he visibly disagrees with her choice.

Gabe recoils in fear during the "chair moment" in a way you wouldn't expect from a young man. When Gabe and Dan crowd Diana during "I Am the One" she lashes out and grabs the chair, swinging it around, forcing them both away from her. Gabe jumps backward in surprise. But this time he also runs behind the counter, visibly terrified that his mother's anger is directed at him. He ducks as she swings the chair, unlike Dan, who is still on the same side of the counter as her and backs out of the way but continues singing and engaging with her, unlike Gabe who does it from a safe distance.

And when Diana's memories of Gabe, and Gabe himself returns after shock therapy, he unleashes the "I'm Alive Reprise" with what I can only describe as the same chaotic gleeful energy my toddler has when my kid starts evil cackling. It's a loud, full body laugh of delight that no one else takes any amusement in that, but that does not stop the child from enjoying it. It's a wild moment in the production. Gabe literally rolls around on top of the counter in delight at being unleashed.

Gabe is also more physically affectionate toward Diana. He hugs her several times and kisses her head. If he gets the opportunity to touch her, he will. In one poignant moment, Dr. Madden convinces Diana to look at Gabe's baby items and start letting go. Gabe tries to get her attention by attempting to hold her hand in order make her talk to him, and instead of taking it, she walks away and leaves him reaching toward her. He is devastated. In the Donmar production Diana and Gabe sat against the counter and leaned on one another. In this production that moment was substituted for Gabe kneeling on the floor and Diana lying on the floor and putting her head in Gabe's lap. He strokes her hair and reassures her.

Instead of seeming jealous or spiteful toward Natalie, Gabe seems enraptured with her. No sibling rivalry here. He tries, unsuccessfully, to get her attention several times and even places his hand over hers on the counter in a moment of comfort, not that she notices. In this production Gabe does not put Diana's purse or bag of pills in front of his sister, starting her addiction. She finds them herself.

This production solved one of the problems I originally had with "Super Boy and the Invisible Girl" in the Donmar production. In the original original New York run Gabe was played by Aaron Tveit as the very jock, athletic all American boy, which is in strict contrast to Natalie, the dorky anxious sister. At the end of the song Gabe joins Natalie singing, "she's not there," until his voice overpowers her and takes over the song as a vocal reminder that he's the favored child. Obviously, the Donmar production didn't do this because Gabe changed to soft boy energy. So Gabe joining the end of the song, singing at Natalie made less sense that the two are no longer in competition. THIS PRODUCTION instead had both Gabe and Natalie singing the end of "Super Boy and the Invisible Girl" to Diana, which was completely brilliant. Diana curls up on the floor clutching her head as both turn their attention toward her. Natalie stands at the top of the stairs and Gabe stands on the counter, both looming over Diana on the floor (asking her why she is not present in their lives and almost accusing her for casting them in the roles of Super Boy and Invisible Girl.)

Gabe is also present in more moments than the original Donmar production. He lurks in the background of several more scenes that did not feature him at the Donmar. This is an excellent choice. He joins Diana during her therapy session when she is hypnotized. Diana makes the joke about turning the light on at the bottom of the stairs to Gabe, both of them being playful and sharing teasing glances because they doubt the success of the hypnosis. (Jokes on Gabe) As Diana falls further into hypnosis, Gabe becomes less visible on stage until he's completely eclipsed behind Dr. Madden and cannot be seen at all even though he's still on stage standing behind the doctor. Gabe tails Diana through the house like a sad puppy afterward when she goes upstairs and retrieves the "baby box."

Gabe did not "try" to make his mother commit suicide. He grabbed his backpack and a dufflebag and started to walk out the door until Diana sang, "I'd die to dance with you." She had already made up her mind to die before Gabe turns around and begins to sing "There's a World." He seemed to help her after she already made her choice. It was less coaxing her into suicide and more guiding her through it, reassuring her of the what came at the end and how he would be there with her.

Gabe watches while Dan cleans up Diana's suicide attempt. He shows up just in time for Dan to sing the lyric, "And there's no one around," disproving Dan's claim that he's all alone. Now, looking this up, it seems like Gabe is supposed to be in this scene, but I have NO MEMORY of Gabe at this part in the original Donmar production. That could just be my faulty memory though. This scene really strengthens their confrontation later in "I Am the One Reprise." I also have no memory of the "sonogram scene" at the Donmar though I distinctly remember reading about it and was actively watching for the moment when Gabe stood on the upper floor and the curtain dropped, casting him in silhouette reminiscent to a sonogram while Diana listens to the music box. So maybe I'm just not remembering correctly? Still, this scene was also excellent and haunting as Gabe hummed the music box melody. The humming was beautiful and it broke me.

At one point in this production, Gabe almost touches his father, but pulls away first. Gabe, desperate to be acknowledged, stands in front of Dan, who reaches forward to touch Diana. Gabe quickly retreats in fear, and throws himself out of the way to avoid touching his father.

I'm not particularly sure anything changed during "I Am the One Reprise," but it's my favorite scene of the entire show, so I'm gonna talk about it. Because hot damn. Before this moment Diana talks to Natalie and sings "Maybe" While they talk Dan and Gabe are sitting against opposite side of the counter. (Dan in the front on the far left hands clutching his head, Gabe behind the counter on the far right curled into a ball, arms wrapped around his knees, forehead on his knees) When Diana finally tells Natalie (and the audience) how her older brother died, Gabe perks up at the mention of his name. He slowly unfolds, sits up, and listens as if it is the first time he's heard it too. Then Diana sings "So Anyway," and leaves. Both men watch her go. (To my utter amusement, Gabe turns into a prairie dog standing up on his knees -- again, reminding me of my toddler who does the same thing in order to sit up and see better -- as Diana leaves.)

Dan stands and starts singing "I Am the One Reprise" to Diana. But Gabe stands and starts singing the reprise to Dan. Then he gets to, "I know you told her that I'm not worth a damn, But I know you know who I am." And then the music cue drops.

It's so powerful.

For the first time Gabe looks angry. Confrontational. He demands to be recognized by his father while Dan denies his presence and begs him to go away. In a stunning leap of athleticism, Gabe jumps on the counter and grabs Dan from the back. It's almost violent. Dan struggles but Gabe refuses to let go until Dan spins around they lock onto each other's forearms and sing the same verse. It's so emotionally charged. Both actors are cry and yell at each other as they sing.

Then Dan starts to pull away and Gabe desperately reaches out trying to hold him again, but unable to from his position on the counter. He continues to reach out despite Dan growing farther away. it's heartbreaking. Dan finally says Gabe's name and recognizes him. It's all Gabe has wanted from his father the entire show. Gabe is so happy in this moment. They look like they are going to continue talking, but Natalie comes in and asks her father, "It's just us?" Now, I remember the line being "It's just the two of us?" at the Donmar, but it's been a hot minute, so I could be wrong (again). But I like, "It's just the two of us?" better because it forces Dan to deny Gabe once again. Dan deliberately looks over at Gabe on the counter before agreeing with Natalie. And Gabe just... gives up. He got the 10 seconds of acknowledgement he wanted from his father. Dan said his name and Gabe's content with that much even though Dan denies him once again in front of Natalie.

Gabe slowly gets off the counter, touches Natalie's hand, though she's unaware, and walks upstairs like a sad little ascending angel who watches over his remaining family.

Other thoughts:

I may not have talked nearly as much about the rest of the cast, but they were all perfect. I loved everyone's voice. Dan was sooooo sympathetic and I love him more and more each time I see the show. Natalie's voice is gorgeous. Stunning. Diana is an unreliable narrator and I think the audience often forgets that.

There are so many props in this set, it must be a nightmare to restock for each show. The food Diana throws around making sandwiches is real, as is the disastrous dinner. (During Diana and Dan's argument they clean up and Diana just throws the dishware into the trash, not just the food, the pan and bowl too and it feels so in character.) Everything else just gets shoved into the sink, haha. The sink does have running water. The birthday cake seems like a prop though and Diana did her best to keep the candles lit while she raced around the stage looking for her dead son. From the balcony on my first viewing I had a really good view of the baby box and saw the exact moment the "blood" began to leak from it. It happened very quickly before the stage turned around, which made me think the it was remote controlled and not set on a release timer (though it probably could be. Every movement from everyone on stage is extremely coordinated even though they are not dancing.) Sitting closer to the stage, the box seemed to leak from all four corners -- I'm just a weirdo who likes knowing these production details.

The cast popping out of the fridge was way funnier during "Psychopharmacologist and I" because they opened the fridge was used it as an ordinary fridge during the opening song. So it was totally unexpected.

Only one person audibly reacted in the audience to Gabe's death reveal between the two shows I saw. Lol. Everyone else went in knowing.

Jesus christ, I have no idea how the actors wore long sleeves and pants on stage. I sat four rows back on the second viewing and I WAS HOT from the stage lights and I wasn't running around the stage like they were. They definitely were visibly sweating.

A friend pointed out that the cast were using American accents, which I didn't realize. For the most part they sounded fine, especially compared to the interviews where the cast use in their natural accents. The most shocking difference was Natalie's actress -- she had the best American accent compared to her strong irl accent. Dan's actor too! Both Jacks couldn't quite cover up their soft vowels so my American ear didn't realize they were using an American accent when I heard their natural ones so clearly.

There were several stage mishaps the second time I saw the production. The curtain that goes up and down on the upper levels of the stage knocked over the "I'm Alive" microphone stand when it when down, knocking the mic off. The mic popped off and bounced down the stairs and rolled off the back of the stage where production presumably grabbed it. The actors picked up the mic stand and put the mic back on it in the next scene. The same microphone stand fell down again when Gabe turned around and his red backpack knocked it over. He picked it up very quickly.

During my "Psychopharmacologist and I" one of Dan's pill bottles, being used as a shaker, exploded. The actor froze for a second, then kept going as the "pills" scattered across the stage. He just put his empty hand in the pocket of the medical coat and continued. When the song ended, a production manager came out, apologized, and said the stage needed to be reset. All the actors left as the stage was swept. The audience looked at their phones for 5 minutes and then the production started again.

Next to Normal was such a joy to see. Like, yes, I saw it because of Jack Wolfe and he was absolutely a highlight of it. But I was never bored without him on stage. Though I did think "So Anyway" was a bit too long, but that's my personal opinion and the effect of jet lag may have influenced that thought. All of the cast and their voices were incredibly talented and I'm glad to be familiar with the show now.

This is long enough, but if you have any questions about the production, please ask! I am happy to answer questions to help those who might be able to see it in person visualize what happened on stage.

[hippiepowrs]

you really got me

rockstar!eddie munson x rockstar!reader

warnings: gn!reader, fluffy fluff, gareth and jeff being little shits, grumpy eddie

a/n: heres a silly little blurb. i like rockstar!reader and i hope some other people are into it too... bc if so i will post more :3

wc: 655

A comforting warmth envelops you from behind, Eddie’s space heater of a body holding onto you tight. The two of you have been on tour together for the past few months, double headlining heavy metal shows all across the country. As fun as sex, drugs, and rock and roll for a living is, it does get tiring at times.

Eddie’s changing room backstage is quiet and still, the only people inside being you and him. It’s a rare sight, as he’s usually the one to be inviting everyone inside to smoke a joint or have a beer with him. The two of you lay on the couch, simply enjoying the calm before the storm.

Your peace and serenity quickly gets interrupted with a loud knock on the door, followed by Gareth and Jeff simply barging into the room, hefty camcorder in hand.

“…Let’s see what Eddie’s up to…Oh! Here are these two lovebirds. They make me sick.” Gareth narrates, pointing the camera directly at you.

Your eyes slowly open, drowsily looking over to the source of the noise. The boys continue to walk closer, fully putting the camera up in your face, causing you to block it with your hand.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Gare,” your hoarse ‘morning’ voice squeaks out, “What the hell is this for?”

“We’re making a tour video. Tom said the fans would like it.” The mention of Corroded Coffin’s manager clicks everything into place. Of course he’d want them to record behind the scenes footage of the tour.

Eddie, the rock of a sleeper that he is, is still fully conked out behind you, his arms trapping you onto the couch.

“I look like shit right now,” you mumble, “can you get that thing out of my fucking face?” Any perceived aggression is recognized as playful between you and the other band’s members, but you do seriously want him to get that damn camera out of your face. Looking down, you remember you’re only wearing one of Eddie’s muscle tees, specifically the Judas Priest one he cut a little shorter than he intended a few years ago.

The show isn’t supposed to start for another few hours, as the bus somehow had no mishaps and got you guys to the venue earlier than normal. Gareth has decided to record whatever the hell he feels like in this time, so now he’s walking around Eddie’s dressing room and pointing out all the gross shit on the floor.

Finally, Eddie starts to stir, nuzzling his nose into the back of your neck. A few soft groans sound from behind you, and this quickly alerts Gareth.

“There he is! Thought you were dead there for a second.”

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” Eddie murmurs, rubbing the sleepiness out of his eyes.

“Makin’ a video.” Gareth turns the camera around to his own face and gives it a big thumbs up.

“Do that shit later, man. Jesus Christ.”

“Someone’s got their panties in a twist.” Gareth giggles, panning the camera over to Jeff, who starts to laugh along with him.

“Get out of my damn room.” Eddie even sits up halfway to send the message, taking an arm off of your waist to point them to the door. Gareth recognizes that Eddie doesn’t want to fuck around right now, so he quickly scurries out with Jeff in tow to find another person to bother.

Turning over to face him, you giggle softly at his moodiness. “He wasn’t wrong. You are pretty grumpy.”

“Can a man not be allowed to cuddle with his partner in peace?” He groans, flopping back down onto the couch and brushing a few strands of hair behind your ear.

“You look like a mess, you know.”

“Shut up. Cuddle me.”

You oblige, wrapping your arms around him. His messy mop of curls falls over your head, his serious case of bedhead being the last thing he’s thinking about.