#notes from the peanut gallery

[assignmentimprobable]

Nana Visitor continues to find ways to give the performance of her life on this show, because she keeps taking dumbshit premises like ‘trapped in a growing crystal (that looks like plastic)’ and making a meal out of it. Why I am I feeling so bad for Major Kira. This is a prop rock.

[mishapen-moth]

hey folks is it gay to turn you and your transitive best friend invisible and take her for a lil fly over the nightmare forest to try and get some info on it during the absolute rager of a party your friends are throwing (that she started so you would stay) and then kiss in a tree before she skateboards away?

[substituted-shinigami]

Tiger Robe

AO3

Characters: Rukia, Renji, and Ichigo (implied RenRuki), with a guest appearance of the Advance Team peanut gallery

Rating: G

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Friendship

Chapter Summary: While shopping with Ichigo in the World of the Living, Rukia finds a tiger print robe that reminds her of someone from her past. (Starts out in the Soul Society Arc, but then jumps around a couple of times, Author’s Note after the story)

Part of the "We Can't All Be Winners" anthology series of oneshots.

************************************************************************

“Okay, we're here,” Kurosaki Ichigo began as they entered the clothing store, “The women’s section is in the back. If you need clothes, I don’t mind buying you a set or two, so can you just please stop stealing Yuzu’s?!? She’s starting to get suspicious…” But Rukia wasn't listening to him. Instead, she was looking around the store, completely enthralled.

“Woah! This is incredible!” Rukia replied with wonder, as her wide eyes flitted from one brightly colored clothing display to the next, “And you can afford such garments on your allowance alone?” Ichigo raised an eyebrow at her in response.

“Yeah…? It’s just a cheap department store, Rukia.”

“Incredible…” she muttered to herself again as she continued to look around the huge, lively store with a mixture of awe and nervousness. Several people passed them by, chatting as they filed in or out of the entrance, and loud music played on the speakers overhead.

This is nothing like the open markets that sold only rags in Inuzuri, she thought, And once I got adopted by the Kuchiki Clan, the tailors came to me. I don’t think I’ve been to anything even resembling a regular clothing store since the Academy. There is too much choice! What should I…?

Rukia could feel Ichigo’s concerned eyes on the back of her neck. Quickly, she stood up straighter, and turned towards him.

“You said, I could get whatever I wanted, right?!” she asked with a devilish grin. Ichigo sighed heavily as if he was immediately regretting both this decision and his entire existence. He scratched the back of his head.

“Within reason! I’m not rich, you know," he scowled, "You can get one everyday outfit and one sleepwear, that’s it!” With that, he set off across the store.

“Ah! You're so stingy, Ichigo!” Rukia teased as she followed after him.

“Keep talking smack, and I’ll make you shop in the children’s section!”

“I might anyway,” Rukia mused, as they passed by a pair of child’s pajamas with bunnies on them, “children’s clothes have nicer prints.”

“Whatever,” Ichigo replied, “Wear what you want when you sleep, but when you are out and about, try to wear typical 'teen clothes'. Otherwise people might get the wrong idea when we are walking together.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rukia dismissed with a wave of her hand. As they continued walking along on their way to the back of the store, passing from the children's section into the men's, Rukia’s eyes were caught by a brightly colored robe. Turning towards it, she felt taken aback when she beheld the largest, tackiest tiger print bathrobe she had ever seen. Suddenly, she felt like she was thrown back over forty years…

_______________________________

“Oi, Rukia! Look at that!” Renji shouted to her while staring at a stall in Southern Rukongai. Rukia stopped mid run and turned around. They had finally made it all the way to the fifth district, but still had a ways to go.

“What is it, Renji? We've gotta get going if we are going to make it to the Shin'ō Academy by the day of the entrance ceremony!”

“I know, I know! Just come look at this real quick!” Renji replied enthusiastically while waving her over. Rukia sighed, but ultimately relented, and walked over to him.

“What? That tacky tiger print yukata?” She asked while crossing her arms. Renji immediately spun on her.

“It’s not tacky! Tiger’s are cool!” he defended. He turned back towards the robe, a twinkle in his eyes, “They are strong and powerful! And when we become strong and powerful shinigami and get paid good money to beat up a bunch of hollows, I’m going to buy a ton of “tacky tiger yukata”, so you better watch out!” Renji turned and tried to give her a smug smirk, but his smile was too big, too goofy, too…genuine. Rukia quickly turned away, a mixture of emotions tumbling within her.

“Psh, yeah, whatever, dork… Come on, let's get going. If we're late, and get thrown out, you'll have a real tiger to deal with!” She said as she began to march down the road again. Renji took one last look back at the robe before jogging to catch up with her.

"Yeah, alright, alright. I'm coming, Miss Tiger."

________________________________

“Oi! Rukia!”

Rukia hadn’t even realized she had stopped until she heard Ichigo shouting her name. She immediately spun on him.

“What?!” she snapped back.

“You stopped in the middle of the aisle! What’s so dang interesting that you hadn’t heard me call you three times?!” Ichigo asked. He looked up at the tiger robe and then back down at her questioningly, “Not exactly your size, is it?”

“Whatever! It’s tacky anyway!” Rukia snapped, and marched off towards the women’s section. Ichigo scratched the back of his head, shrugged, and followed after her.

__________________________________

  “Now listen up, all of you, this is a World of the Living store!” Vice Captain and Advance Team Leader Abarai Renji proclaimed professionally as they entered the building. He turned around towards the group of shinigami in gigai following him and continued, “You may each pick out a few outfits to use while here. You know your budget, so please stick with it!” he finished, giving Matsumoto Rangiku a pointed look.

“Why are you looking at me? You should look at Yumichika! He’s way worse!” she whined dramatically. Renji sighed. Matusumoto was reliable in battle, but when it came to budgets? Less so.

“Yumichika has Ikkaku to keep him on budget,” Renji countered.

“Yeah, and he listens to him on these matters about as much as I listen to my captain,” Matusmoto muttered.

“Hey!” Captain Hitsugaya Toshiro yelled.

“Normally, I would argue with her, but she’s right on that point,” Ayasegawa Yumichika said with a flick of his hair, “Although, I do tend to spend more money on make-up than I do on clothing.”

“It’s true,” Madarame Ikkaku agreed, “He’s found us some really nice eyeliner over the years, hasn’t he, Renji?”

Renji was rubbing his temples by this point. He greatly respected his mentors from the Eleventh, but sometimes he wished he didn’t always have to be the adult in these situations, “There is no make-up budget, only a clothing budget.”

“What?! That’s absurd!” Yumichika lamented loudly.

“How am I supposed to dress like the women of the World of the Living without make-up?!” Matsumoto complained.

“Fine! Whatever! Get what you want! Just stay on budget! Now go!” And with that, the groups split off, Yumichika and Ikkaku in one direction and Matsumoto and Hitsugaya in another. Hitsugaya stopped, and turned back towards Renji.

“Don’t worry, Lieutenant Abarai, I’ll keep her on budget.”

“Thank you, Captain Hitsugaya,” Renji replied, a little relieved. Hitusgaya nodded, and went after his lieutenant. Renji sighed and began rubbing his temples again.

“Not easy being a parent, is it?” Rukia teased as she walked up to him.

“No, not at all,” He grumbled in response. Rukia laughed lightly.

“Come on, I’ll show you where the men’s section is. It’s right before the women’s section so it’s on the way anyway,” She replied, strutting off. Renji followed after her.

“Here we are!” Rukia announced once they had arrived, “The everyday wear is here, the socks and underwear are over there, and the sleepwear is-” But she froze the minute her eyes fell upon a familiar looking brightly colored sleeping robe. Renji looked up to see what she was staring at.

“Oh, wow! A tiger robe!” he exclaimed excitedly. Rukia felt a familiar mixture of emotions as she watched him immediately walk right up to it, “This is so cool! How much does it cost, I wonder? Ah…”

“What?” Rukia asked tentatively, “Is…Is it expensive?”

“Yeah… It’s pretty pricey. Makes sense, this material is so amazingly soft! Oh well… I guess it is a little tacky, huh?” He joked half heartedly, as he put back the robe. Rukia stared at him for about half a beat before responding.

“Yeah, it is…but you’re tacky enough to pull it off,” she finished with a smirk. Renji wheeled around and scowled at her.

“Hey!”

“What?” Rukia asked innocently, as she grabbed the largest size robe off the rack, “I said you could pull it off, didn’t I? Anyway, what size are you? Like a gazillion extra large?”

“That’s not even a real number, Rukia, let alone a real size. And no, don’t buy that!”

“Why not? You said we could get whatever we wanted as long as we stayed within our budget, so this qualifies,” Rukia reasoned. Renji threw up his hands in protest.

“If you buy that, you will only have money for one like, one dress!” he exclaimed, “You won’t even have enough for sleepwear!”

“So?” Rukia asked, as she removed the robe from the hanger and began carefully folding it, “I already have some leftover World of the Living clothes I left at Ichigo’s house. I don’t need more than one new dress. Plus, like you said, I can choose to spend my money however I like! And I’ve chosen to buy this very large, very tacky tiger robe. But oh no!” She exclaimed, smacking her forehead dramatically, “What to do? I bought a size too large! I suppose I'll just have to give it away!” She handed Renji the neatly folded up robe.

Renji stared at her wide eyed for a moment, before relaxing and finally taking the offered robe, “Pft. Fine. Whatever. Spend your money however you like…” he finished, smiling a little as he rubbed the back of his neck.

”Thank you, Oh Great Advance Team Leader,” Rukia proclaimed, as she bowed dramatically. She found herself smiling as well, “I certainly will!”

__________________________________

Epilogue

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot!” Ichigo said as he stood before the Senkaimon doors, about to return to the World of the Living once more, “Rukia, could you give this to Renji? Hat-and-Clogs told me to give him this. Apparently he left it at his shop when the captains came and took you guys back to Soul Society during the war. Not this last war, the one before that. You all sure have a lot of those, huh? You should work on that. Anyway, here you go,” He pulled out a rather large, brightly colored, crumpled ball of cloth.

“Hm? O-Oh! Renji’s tiger robe! I thought we would never get it back!” Rukia exclaimed, taking it from him, “Hmph! That candy selling jerk probably used it to do gods know what. I better wash it before I give it back to him tonight. Anyway, thanks, Ichigo!” Ichigo watched Rukia as she carefully smoothed out and then folded up the robe. Suddenly, something clicked.

“W-Wait! Is that why you were acting so weird at the store back then?” Rukia turned to look at him.

“Huh?!”

“Back then, when you were secretly living in my closet, I took you to the store to get you some more clothes, remember? While there you started reminiscing right after you saw that tiger robe!” Ichigo exclaimed. He crossed his arms and looked up in thought, “So Renji had his own, huh? That’s surprising, I didn’t think he had too many World of the Living clothes…”

“He doesn’t, fool! I…uh…bought it for him,” Rukia finished quietly. Ichigo looked at her again. He raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, you did, huh?”

“Y-Yeah! So what?!” Rukia snapped. Ichigo regarded her wordlessly for a while. Eventually, he clasped his hands behind his head and turned towards the Senkaimon.

“Nothing. Anyway, I’ve got to head back. I’ll see you later, Rukia,” Ichigo said, walking towards the doors once more. Rukia blinked.

“Oh. Uh. Okay. See you later, Ichigo.”

Ichigo was about to step through the doors, when he stopped and turned to look at her over his shoulder, “Oh, and uh, don’t forget to invite me to the wedding.” Rukia’s face turned beet red.

“W-What?! Why you-” she shouted. Rukia tried to aim a kick at him, but as usual Ichigo was frustratingly quick, and with a flash, he was gone.

>>>>>>>>>> Author’s Note <<<<<<<<<<<

A/N: Phew! Took awhile to get this one out, but it’s finally here! Originally, I had it scheduled for April, but I’m glad I held onto it longer to edit it more at my leisure. I’ve always had the feeling that despite the fact she refused to talk about it, Rukia still thought about Renji and their past together a lot during their separation (albeit probably sadly and unbidden on her part). Even in the World of the Living, I bet anytime she saw something tiger or pineapple print, she was reminded of her “stupid” redhead with the “stupid” eyebrows! Speaking of tiger print, have you heard of Bleach Gree cards? They are cards of Bleach characters, one of which, of course, includes Renji in a tiger print robe as he’s dressed up as what I think is an oni for new years. Well guess what? If you look through the Rukia set, you can find her dressed up in a matching outfit, tiger print and all! I guess she wasn’t kidding when she said not to make fun of Renji for his tiger print, huh?! xD Anyway, thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!

[secretly-of-course]

Sigh. This is what happens when posts get attention months after they were made.

Also, several members of the original Village People were openly gay. Just because Willis isn’t and he’s the only original remaining member doesn’t change that.

someone in the notes of that last reblog said that hot to go is the gay ymca,, who's gonna tell them the ymca is already gay like it's quite literally a song by gay men about young gay men

[mimiii-3]

My Baby Brother

Platonic Batfam/Damian x GN Neglected Reader

Notes: slight angst, reader is Bruce’s biological child but I imagine that the reader can be any color, shape, size, etc.

The peanut gallery filed into the living room one by one. Each brother looking as disinterested as the next to sit for one of Bruce’s family portraits.

Dick, Tim, and Damian moved to encircle your father sitting in an obsidian-colored velvet armchair. You shifted awkwardly to the right to avoid Damian shoulder-checking you.

You looked to Damian to find him already watching you. The corner of your lips twitched into a wry smile but quickly faded as Damian’s green eyes narrowed.

It felt like only yesterday that he would look at you in complete adoration. Your sweet baby brother doubling as your only friend. Now he looks at you as if you’re nothing more than a stain on his perfect life.

Damian’s initial love of you seemed to stem from the fact that you were the only other biological child of Bruce. He gravitated to the oldest “legitimate” (as he so lovingly put) when he first arrived at the manor.

He would join you for walks in the garden or reading in the library. He considered you to be exceedingly simple but at least you were held in higher esteem than your older brothers.

It wasn’t until he joined Bruce and Tim on their nightly patrols that the family dynamic changed. You were left alone in the library and the garden as Damian trained and fought alongside his new brothers.

You had reached out to Damian a few times since the change. You could only tolerate asking him for book recommendations or offering to paint with him for so long. You began to pull away, sensing the impending hurt.

The loneliness stung at first but over the months, melted into a twisted sort of calm. You found peace knowing that he hated you almost as much a you loved him.

As you reminisce, you look back at Damian and his pouty little face. Your smile returns only more relaxed and genuine. This seems to throw him off guard and he hurriedly looks back to the painter and their easel.

He moves closer to the armchair and away from your side. The painter waives their hand indicating for you to scooch closer to the family.

You take two steps to the left and lightly place your hand on Damian’s shoulder. You feel him tense but you keep your hand steady. The sound of the wood crackling in the fireplace pairs nicely with the gentle stroke of the brush against the easel.

The next few hours creep by and your brothers flee the living room, glad to be away from the intensely boring get together. Your father follows suit and Alfred waits by the door as the painter begins to pack their belongings.

You make your way to the other side of the easel to take a gander at their handiwork. The painting is stunning. The rich, warm hues of the room pair nicely with the striking features of your family.

Your gaze make its way over to the side of the portrait with you and Damian. Your graceful smiles and close proximity remind you of the happier days with Damian.

You nod appreciatively at the painter and slip out of the living room. You look down the hall and watch Damian as he walks alongside Tim and Dick. You turn around and make your way back to the quiet corner of the manor that holds your room.

You shake off the expensive scarf you had been wearing for the painting and scan your room. Brown boxes covered in a scribbled mess of sharpie tower around the room.

All of your belongings packed and ready to go for tomorrow’s 10am pickup from Winslows’ Moving and Storage. An appointment you scheduled without any of your family’s knowledge.

You found a quaint cottage over in Ivy Town for an “affordable” price. It would be a downgrade from the manor but maybe that’s what you needed.

A break from the paparazzi and the crushing weight of expectations. A break from an absent father and an overbearing bat. A break from the glares and scowls shot by your brothers. You will make new friends that aren’t highly trained assassins and have a normal, happy life.

Yes, this is exactly what you needed. A fresh start at a new home and a new university. You know you will miss Damian and Alfred dearly but this is what’s best.

Even though you will be leaving everything you know behind, you can leave knowing one thing. No matter how much he hates you, Damian will always be your baby brother.

Extra notes: trying to shake off the dust from my very long hiatus hehe. I feel like this fic could easily turn yandere🤔

[phantomrose96]

Actually I've decided that the single most important thing Tumblr has going for it over Tiktok/Youtube/Twitter/Reddit is that Tumblr posts do NOT have a comment section of peanut-gallery wannabe comedians trying to lick the runoff from a popular post.

"Top comment" is a disease plaguing other websites that make the audience try to endlessly out-funny OP, or argue, or talk about themselves, or detract from the content in any way that gets them the good-job-like-thumbs-up-numbers on their comment. The fact that the Tumblr platform awards no notes and no extra visibility to comments is a blessing we need to appreciate more.

[izzih22]

It’s my birthday today so can I have another fic as a present 🙏

This Is Why We Close the Door

Note: Happy birthday anon!! Hope you had a good day here’s a little something!!

1:24 p.m. – UConn Dorms

It’s raining, which means two things:

1. Practice got pushed until the evening so the court could be used for some athletic department event.

2. Everyone is bored and lurking in the dorm hallway like restless children.

Everyone except Paige and Azzi.

They’ve been locked in their shared room since noon with snacks, hoodies, and absolutely no plans to move.

Or… at least, that was the original plan.

Currently, Azzi is backed against the edge of the bed, shirt rucked up just enough to show the smooth skin of her stomach, breathing a little heavier than before.

Paige, somehow both annoyingly cocky and utterly love-drunk, grins down at her from where she’s bracing herself with one arm on the headboard.

“You’re staring,” Azzi murmurs, flushed but teasing.

“You’re just so pretty,” Paige says with a shrug, like it’s the simplest fact in the world.

Azzi rolls her eyes, but her smile gives her away. “You’re cheesy.”

“Cheesy and in love. Tragic combo.”

Paige kisses her, and it’s not exactly innocent. Her hands are wandering. Her tongue is teasing. She’s got that look — the one that says yeah, I know what I’m doing.

Azzi lets out a breathy laugh when Paige’s hand slips beneath the hem of her hoodie. “You’re so annoying.”

“And yet,” Paige murmurs, lips brushing her neck, “you’re still here.”

There’s a knock on the door.

Then another, louder.

Paige freezes, groans into Azzi’s neck. “If that’s Ice, I’m going to body check her into the dining hall.”

Azzi snorts. “Be nice.”

“I’m busy!” Paige yells, not moving an inch.

“Yeah, we know!” Ice shouts from outside. “We heard, that’s why we’re knocking!”

Paige falls forward dramatically onto Azzi, groaning like her life just ended.

Azzi giggles under her. “That’s what we get for not locking it.”

“We did lock it.”

“Then they’re knocking for sport.”

There’s another voice now — Jana.

“Hey, tell Bueckers to stop being in love for five seconds, we’re trying to play Mario Kart in the common room and she keeps making the hallway awkward!”

“GET A ROOM!” Ice yells.

“WE HAVE ONE!” Paige yells back.

Azzi is laughing too hard to breathe now.

⸻

1:32 p.m. – Still Trapped

Paige has given up on subtlety. She’s sprawled half on top of Azzi, her hand casually tucked under her girlfriend’s hoodie again, drawing lazy circles on her hip.

“We were so close,” Paige sighs dramatically. “You were looking at me like—”

“I was looking at you like I wanted you to make me a coffee.”

Paige gasps. “Lies! Slander!”

Azzi smirks. “Maybe also a little like I wanted to kiss you senseless.”

Paige leans in. “See? And I was gonna do just that until the peanut gallery showed up.”

“You act like they’re not gonna bother us every time we get alone.”

“They’re jealous of what we have,” Paige mutters, pressing her face into Azzi’s shoulder.

Azzi pats her head like she’s a golden retriever. “I mean… you are kind of loud.”

“I wasn’t even loud it’s just quiet in here!”

Azzi just raises an eyebrow.

⸻

2:04 p.m. – Attempt #2

The dorm has gone quiet.

Paige turns off the lamp. Azzi lights the vanilla candle she hides from the RA. Rain is still tapping on the window, and everything feels warm and soft and private.

They kiss slower this time. More gentle, more intimate. Paige touches her like she’s memorizing her again. Azzi melts into it.

Then—another knock.

This time, a slip of paper slides under the door.

In Ice’s messy handwriting:

“Please keep it PG.”

Paige picks it up and groans so loud, Azzi has to shove her face into a pillow to muffle her laughter.

Paige: “I’m going to transfer.”

Azzi: “You’re not going anywhere.”

Paige flops back down beside her, sulking. “This dorm is a prison.”

Azzi pulls her close, presses a kiss to her temple. “You love me.”

Paige softens. “Yeah. I do.”

Beat.

Paige: “Wanna go make out in the locker room instead?”

Azzi: “Paige!”

Paige: “Kidding. Unless…”

[bomusims]

introducing: THE BRUNCH CLUB

finally, at long last... my entry for peachi's april challenge! have at em queers xx

0X // INDEX

01 // profiles 02 // character notes 03 // lore 04 // naming notes 05 // glossary* 06 // author's notes

*for terms and phrases marked with an asterisk, please refer to the glossary.

01 // PROFILES

PRISCILLA DE VERE

The Princess Snob, Self-absorbed, Mean 4th year Class 4-A Pronouns: She/her Height: 163cm Birthday: 17th October Favorite Food: Avocado toast with honey and red pepper chili flakes Current Concern: Her classmates won't shut up.

from the peanut gallery…

"She's a total bitch, but y' didn't hear it from me." - Anonymous "There's a sinister energy about her... I can sense the Spirit of Darkness (?) within me stir whenever she nears." - Kouzai Hayashi "No comment." - Anonymous "She's really pretty!! I think she'd be a lot happier if she smiled more!!!" - Aaron Campbell

GWENNETH MARÍA "GWEN" RIZAL DE LA CRUZ

The Yankee* Hot-Headed, Loyal, Cat Lover 4th year Class 4-A Pronouns: She/any Height: 177cm Birthday: 12th January Favorite Food: Pineapple buns Current Concern: Her hair roots are already growing back in...

from the peanut gallery…

"Do not associate me with that delinquent or her gaggle of lackeys." - Priscilla De Vere "They have the potential to become a worthy adversary of mine… [dark chuckle] (??)" - Kouzai Hayashi "No comment." - Anonymous "They’re super cool and really good at fighting!!" - Aaron Campbell

KOUZAI HAYASHI

The Chuunibyou* Erratic, Macabre, Paranoid 4th year Class 4-A Pronouns: He/they Height: 170cm Birthday: 9th July Favorite Food: Pudding cups Current Concern: What he should do if he ever got hit by a truck and isekai’d (??) into his favorite manga.

from the peanut gallery…

"Who?" - Priscilla De Vere "Y’ mean that kid? Oh, don’t worry about ‘im. He’s just like that." - Anonymous "No comment." - Anonymous "I think he’s got a really fun and interesting personality!! And also I think he’d be a cool guy to hang out with!!!" - Aaron Campbell

JAMES BROOK

The Nerd Genius, Overachiever, Perfectionist 4th year Class 4-A Pronouns: He/him Height: 173cm Birthday: 23rd December Favorite Food: Neapolitan ice cream Current Concern: He’s running out of quiet, isolated spaces to study in.

from the peanut gallery…

"Why should I care about that little nerd?" - Priscilla De Vere "I see ‘im in the infirmary a lot. Not really sure what he’s got goin’ on there, but that's none o' my business.” - Anonymous "There are no doubts about his intelligence—of course, he's still incomparable to the great and noble Scion of Darkness (???).” - Kouzai Hayashi "He's super cool and smart and always gets the top score!!!" - Aaron Campbell

AARON CAMPBELL!!!

The Moodmaker!! Active, Adventurous, Bro! 4th year Class 4-A! Pronouns: He/him! Height: 181cm! Birthday: 15th April! Favorite Food: Five Sims bacon cheeseburger! (with tomato and lettuce!!) Current Concern: None!!!

from the peanut gallery…

“He would do the world a great service if he learned how to shut the hell up.” - Priscilla De Vere "He means well, but he’s very, uh… Clumsy? Accident-prone? Great guy either way.” - Anonymous "No comment." - Anonymous "Should he ally himself against The Society (????), he would be a most suitable sidekick for the likes of myself.” - Kouzai Hayashi

02 // CHARACTER NOTES

priscilla

rich, spoiled, prissy princess with one hell of an attitude

cis femme lesbian. what, you thought i was gonna make a str**ght person?

greatly values peace and quiet—that is, everyone else immediately ceasing conversation the moment she walks into a room and only speaking when she permits them to

del sol valley born and bred, as one can imagine

very pretty until she opens her mouth

dresses head to toe in designer clothing, owns a walk-in closet the size of an average studio apartment in san myshuno, and has a 42-step skincare routine

it’s actually kinda impressive how early she gets up in the mornings to make sure she looks impeccable at all times

nepo baby (judith ward’s granddaughter, because i can)

has a somewhat warped relationship with her family. they’re all very distant with each other only know how to shower someone in material gifts instead of proper love and affection

for some reason, the boys at their school haven’t caught on to the fact that she’s gay yet. they just think that she’s playing hard to get and/or out of everyone else’s league (it’s the latter and also she is a lesbian)

she dgaf about anyone else in the class unless they are disturbing her aforementioned peace and quiet. some things can be tuned out, others not so easily (i.e. aaron’s lack of an ‘inside voice’)

her hobby? spending money, of course

has a fake id that she uses to get into upscale clubs and bars, but she doesn’t drink or smoke (it’s terrible for her skin. obviously). she’s just there for the mocktails and vibes

surprisingly, she doesn’t attack people people unprovoked, though it can be contested what is considered provocation to some people. don’t bother her and she won’t bother you—unless you’re wearing a lumpy knit sweater so tacky and garish that it’s an assault on the human eyes, or something along those lines

gwen

wannabe yankee and de facto leader of their school’s gang fight club

nonbinary bisexual

often gets into physical fights with other delinquent types (regardless of which school they go to) and frequents the infirmary

always got a bruise and a bandage on somewhere

big fan of cats. as all delinquents ought to be

contrary to popular belief, she’s quite the early bird and arrives at school wayyyy before the bell rings

she’s also very studious and pays attention in class, but jumps ship as soon as she’s done with the classwork

they can’t really ding her for skipping classes when her grades are on par with james’ grades, so instead she gets double the detention for fights

genuinely looks up to the yakuza/mafia groups that still practice the code of chivalry and wants to join one as soon as she graduates

she won’t hesitate to beat you up if you deserve it, but she’ll refuse to fight dirty even it means defeat. a person who lives whole-heartedly by their integrity—a rare find these days

has a sort of accent that developed after watching a bunch of animes with characters speaking in kansai-ben. she started watching those animes fairly early on in her childhood, so it’s been stuck with her since elementary school. yes mt. komorebi has regional dialects, including kansai-ben, which has absolutely zero relation to the dialect spoken by those from the kansai region in japan

originally she was gonna be more masc/androgynous, but then the trinity collection dropped and i said fuck it we’re going vivienne westwood

kouzai

grown ass man (? boy? idk) with chuunibyou syndrome

probably gay and nonbinary but he’s busy suppressing the darkness inside of him so he doesn’t really care about that rn

has a scar across his left eye from a traumatic accident early on in his childhood. the chuunibyou started right after he regained consciousness in the hospital as a defense mechanism that ‘shielded’ him from that trauma, but it didn’t become an point of concern until he entered high school because everyone thought it was just the nonsensical whims of a child

convinced there’s a “spirit of darkness” or whatever sealed in his left eye

calls himself the “scion of darkness” (?) and notes “the society” (??) as his archnemesis. no one really knows or cares what any of that means

constantly poses with one hand shrouding his face a bit (you know the one..)

randomly chuckles darkly and audibly mutters to himself things like “heh… these fools don’t even know who they’re messing with”

only child

lowkey a really talented artist but that’s commonly overlooked bc of his, ah… antics

terrible at sports. like baddddd

when they were freshman everyone was either like “ermmm freak!!” or “oh god he’s at it again”

but by the time senior year rolled around everyone got used to it and no one gaf. except for new/transfer students, who are thoroughly confused as to why no one’s reacting to this weirdo

has he been bullied? yes! but for the most part it just went over his head or he’d say something like “[dramatic pose] an amateur move… if i were to unseal the spirit of darkness, the lot of you would have been vaporized to ashes where you stand. consider your foolish selves lucky that i, the great and noble scion of darkness, have chosen to pardon your transgressions” and then eventually bullies would just give up on trying to pick on him bc it’s pointless

james

so-called ‘brainiac’ and consistently places the first on the academic scoreboards but isn’t on the student government or class rep because he keeps beating up his bullies

cis and probably gay but he’s busy with school so he doesn’t really care about that rn

whole personality is being a stick in the mud

but like. he will punch you in the face if you piss him off

is he a victim of teasing and bullying? yes! will he stand up for himself? also yes!

he’s got a tongue on him for sure

the type to remind the teacher that they’ve got homework

as one might imagine, not many students are a fan of him

also, he’s got zero (0) friends. the only person that would qualify is his cousin that’s older by a few years and studying over in britechester. and he prefers it that way! he’s very much an introvert and is more than happy to spend his time immersed in research instead of socializing with his peers

very frank and does not sugarcoat things, but will lie (mostly by omission or white lie) to get out of bothersome situations, such as bumping into priscilla in the hallways and accidentally stepping on her custom sentate pink patent leather pumps

james and gwen are the most ‘sane’ of the bunch. like yeah both of them get into scuffles for various reasons, but aside from that they’ve got their head square on their shoulders and can look at things fairly objectively

why do the bullies keep coming back for him, you ask? well, if you poke and prod at him then he’ll just say something like “you ought to be using this free time for self study”, which eventually escalates to increasingly over-specific insults. this, of course, provokes the bullies, who will then throw the first punch. james lets himself get hit a few times to prove self-defense before promptly socking them in the face a few times, then kneeing them in the groin for the finishing move. by that point, faculty have already been alerted of the situation, so they send all the kids to the infirmary before dishing their respective punishments. at the very least, james will get a reduced sentence and serve his detention separately from the bullies—but now, the bullies’ egos have been thoroughly bruised and by the time their sentences are over, they’re already itching to get their revenge on james… and so the cycle continues

to clarify, he’s never had formal martial arts lessons. it just so happens that his leaner build typically allows him more agility than his larger opponents, so he can dodge fairly easily. (also, these are just high school thugs with zero technique whatsoever, so all you really need is a well-timed knee to the groin in order to win)

aaron

somewhat dense but energetic, charismatic, good-spirited moodmaker (jock..?)

cis bisexual but he doesn’t know about the bisexual bit because he’s never pondered the subject of his sexuality before… he’ll figure it out

every class needs at least one kid that can rile up the whole class with their energy and enthusiasm

absurdly strong and athletic but has a hard time controlling his strength, resulting in many, many accidents

generally well liked by the student population, but not so much the faculty (see: frequent destruction of school property)

incredibly optimistic and strives to see the good in other people

his general opinion on things can be ranked on a scale of “totally cool!!!” to “totally not cool :(“

he’s not on any of the sports teams despite being naturally talented at pretty much all of them (see: frequent destruction of school property) but he tends to gravitate towards baseball during phys ed. and yes, he took phys ed as an elective in their 3rd and 4th years

bottomless stomach and a ridiculously high metabolism

runs to school. not walking, not jogging, not biking, but runs. sometimes even full on sprinting

lowkey cannot read the room

definitely has more than a few secret admirers (thanks to his good looks), but he doesn’t know about that either. he is NOT gonna notice any innuendos or subliminal messaging. you have to walk straight up to his face and say “i like you”. but even then, there’s a good chance that he’ll say something like “woah thats cool because i like you too!! and also classmate x and classmate y and classmate z and—“

he’s very easy to get along with if you can handle extroverts

probably has undiagnosed adhd

i mean honestly, he’s just a simple guy with a lotta love in his heart

03 // LORE

what the hell are they doing in detention, you ask? what a great question!

priscilla backed her car straight into the principal’s rear bumper in the school parking lot (it’s a widely known yet unspoken fact that she’s a terrible driver, but the usual victims are other students’ cars getting a little scratch or dent here and there, courtesy of her porsche boxster with custom hot pink detailing)

gwen got into a fight with kids from the neighboring school. again. (this is a daily occurrence and no one is surprised)

kouzai blew up the chemistry lab while brewing up a “draught of the eclipse”. no one knows wtf he put in that beaker or wtf a “draught of the eclipse” is, but he did steal a bunch of random chemicals from the storage room, so…

james was being heckled by his bullies (again) so he socked them all in the nuts (again). (this, too, is a daily occurrence and no one is surprised)

aaron accidentally threw a baseball at a window and destroyed it during phys ed. (aaron accidentally breaks school property on a daily basis. once again, no one is surprised)

unfortunately, i didn’t have enough time to write more of this… so i’ll leave the rest up to your imagination ;)

04 // NAMING NOTES

priscilla de vere

priscilla being her first name simply makes sense—i can’t imagine it being anything else. as for her last name, the house of de vere was a very old and powerful english aristocratic family! it also has ties to british royalty, which i think is quite fitting given priscilla's personality.

gwenneth maría rizal de la cruz

gwen is tsinoy* like me! their first name is gwenneth maría. many tsinoys (or pinoys in general) have 2-in-1 first names, but only go by one of them and/or a nickname—gwen is no exception to this. her middle name is rizal, because pinoy people will literally name their kid after anything, and i like to think that her parents named her after josé rizal, a national hero of the philippines. de la cruz is simply her parents’ surname, and now it’s gwen’s. of course, her full name is a bit of a mouthful, so she mainly goes by gwenneth maría rizal aside from the legal stuff.

kouzai hayashi

kouzai roughly translates to “both good and evil” (kou - light/happiness; zai - darkness/evil). it took me a lot of searching to find it because i wanted something very specific, and i think this suits him well especially given the chuunibyou syndrome.

james brook

a simple, sensible name for a simple, sensible man.

aaron campbell

i was operating off of pure vibes at this point. i used all my brain juice for naming the first three, so i hit the rng button until i got something that fit him. don’t you think he looks like an aaron?

05 // GLOSSARY

in order of appearance:

yankee: a japanese term used to refer to a type of delinquent youth associated with motorcycle gangs and frequently sporting dyed blond hair [via wikipedia]

chuunibyou: also called middle school or eighth-grader syndrome, a japanese term used to refer to adolescents with delusions of grandeur [via wikipedia]

tsinoy: filipinos of chinese descent, but born and raised in the philippines [via wikipedia]

06 // AUTHOR’S NOTES

aaaaand that's all he wrote

if you’ve made it this far, thank you for staying and reading! this really was a passion project for me over the last few weeks, and i had a ball of a time while working on it. there's so many things i wish i had time to add or improve, but alas, deadlines and time constraints are things that exist. i don’t even care about winning at this point, i’m just so glad i was able to finish this in the first place. i also added in a bunch of little references here n there but i'm not gonna tell you which ones. iykyk ;)

some miscellaneous notes:

if you've heard of the saturday breakfast club, then get ready for the... sunday brunch club

there’s no intended romantic subplot, but if i had to choose then i’m team priscilla x gwen all the way. if anyone’s got ship name suggestions lmk

yeah gwen is my favorite

i imagine the hypothetical interviewer/surveyor gathering responses for the profiles going “WHAT IS BRO TALKING ABOUTTTT 🔥🔥🔥🔥💥💥💥💥💥💥🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️” in his head every time kouzai opens his mouth

also, i really love kouzai’s design, but god DAMN was he annoying to edit. chromakeying was a nightmare i’ll tell you that much

the movie poster features brand new poses by me! the student id cards were also made from scratch by me. idk if i’ll ever share them or not since i made them custom for each sim but if people are interested i’ll polish them up and drop them in a patreon post one day :)

maybe i’ll do a sim dump too but i'll be busy for several weeks after i drop this so that probably won't be for a hot minute

i’ll also definitely add to their lore and maybe even make some more edits n stuff for them! there’s so much more i want to do with these characters but once again.. not for a while cus irl stuff

i scrapped the initial ideas for the brunch club poster at least ten times over. at first they were gonna be sitting in a classroom, but then i started building a scene and then i was like No thank you too many objects so i tried using premade scenes but those weren’t working out either. but then i had the genius idea of recreating the original breakfast club poster! which was only great in theory because the only poses i could find on the internet were very outdated and didn’t work well with vyxated’s rigplus. i already knew i was going to have to make kouzai’s pose from scratch (searched high and low for good chuuni poses but to no avail) but now i had to make poses for all five of them… not a fun time in the beginning but once i got the hang of maneuvering the rigs it was chill!

you can find all my previous brunch club posts (and future ones as well) here!

in case the quality gets squashed by tumblr, i'll be uploading all the pictures + a bonus version of the poster without signatures over on my patreon (free, duh)

i just noticed i made a typo in james’ bio pls dont flame me

thanks and credits: @peachibunnii and the bunni discord for the prompt and encouragement; @vyxated for the life-saving ea rig+; @surely-sims and @solitasims4 for their posing tutorials; @salemssimblr for literally everything on @salemsimsrender; @xiuminuwu for the yearbook poses and @someone-elsa for the yearbook backdrop textures; all the amazing creators whose cc i used to make the sims (it’s a very long list and i don’t want to tag too many people cus that would be annoying); blender, sims 4 studio, photopea, and clip studio paint pro (the programs i primarily used); and last but not least, beerkyeg for the emotional support. there’s definitely a lot more people i’m forgetting, but know that i love and appreciate u all <3

[fiamat12]

Sometimes it feels like people are being overly opinionated when it comes to half of Nic’s posts. She was just nominated for a BAFTA for her role in a show her best friend wrote. I swear, all those far-stretched shipping shenanigans and the “drama” she apparently causes by posting pictures of flowers (but let’s not talk about Jake, whatever THAT was, was done on his behalf intentionally, that’s for sure. And he has his own head on his shoulders, I doubt Nicola controls everything all her friends do or don’t) are all in your heads, guys. Things may not be related to shipping at all, and it’s incredibly frustrating to see people being so rude about her celebrating her first solo BAFTA nomination. She doesn’t think about us shippers 24/7, and neither should you. There must be a healthy balance between shipping and your own life, otherwise you will soon start to resent these people without even realizing the changes taking place. And we have enough antis already.

Well, it's Tumblr and that's what people do lol. Whilst I agree that not everything is about shipping, if people want to think the flowers were from L there's no harm in that - they very well could have been (and you won't get any argument from me on that 🥰)... but I do agree a healthy balance will keep shippers sane. ⚖️

As for JD, as you can see from my last post, I believe N's repost was intentional as well. I previously listed the dozens of people who commented, yet she chose to repost JD on the day of his new show's Int'l premiere. She had 7 posts to her story***. Sure JD could have posted on his own volition (that's plausible too) but if so, N still purposely reposted imo, because whether people like it or not (and trust me, I know they don't lol!), N owes JD.

(Note: If you want to think JD overplays his hand, ok! But he hasn't demonstrated to be anything like A)

This comment from the Discord peanut gallery succinctly explains it, imo ⤵️

***N's story posts from yesterday ⤵️

[miss-bushido]

Words of love you whisper soft and true

Summary: Steve badgers Eddie into doing the Suspect Challenge with him for Instagram Rating: T Note: The Canadian couple Steve refers to is @thedarcymichael and @jer2baer on Instagram. I had seen a few Suspect Challenge videos before theirs, but they already reminded me of Steve and Eddie so I had to write this after I saw theirs.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

“Steeeve,” Eddie whined as his boyfriend dragged him into the backyard. He glanced back at Dustin as he held up the phone, the camera on to record the spectacle from the safety of the back deck. “I hate the Suspect Challenge.” Steve had been showing him numerous reels on Instagram of it: people filming themselves and their friends or significant others roasting one another. Some were funny, he begrudgingly admitted, but a few of them turned nasty pretty quickly. Those, he didn’t like. There was a fine line that not many people could walk between roasting someone and being a dick to them.

“Eddiiiiie,” Steve replied, matching his own whine to Eddie’s. He pulled him in for a quick kiss, tucking some hair behind his ear. “It’ll be funny. That one Canadian couple with the big skeleton reminds me of us, and seeing theirs made me curious to see what we could come up with.” He gave Eddie his puppy dog eyes, knowing his boyfriend was powerless to resist. 

And he really was. Eddie sighed dramatically, jamming his hands into his jean pockets. “Fine, fine. Which of us is going to run first?” 

Steve gave him a big grin and said, tapping Eddie lightly in the chest, “You are.”

Eddie rolled his eyes but nodded as he got into place at the end of the patio. He glanced up to see Dustin had moved closer, holding the phone out for Steve to take. “Okay,” Eddie said, getting into position like he was going to run down the block, when really it would be less than 10 feet.

He started jogging slowly, as Steve came up next to him, matching his pace with ease. “Suspect’s musical taste remains stuck in the 80’s.”

Eddie immediately burst out laughing. He stopped in place and put his hands on his hips. “It’s not my fault that most metal bands these days can’t sing for shit.”

“Broaden your horizons!” Steve yelled, laughing right along with Eddie. He clapped him on the back as he handed him the phone. “I paused it, so you can pick right up with me as I am now.”

Eddie licked his lips as he held up the phone, watching through the camera as Steve got in place. “Go!” he yelled as he tapped the button. Steve started jogging slowly, and Eddie matched him. “Suspect didn’t know who Ozzy Osbourne was.”

Steve barked out a laugh and bent over. “I’d never listened to metal music before I met you!”

“No excuse, it’s a travesty,” Eddie replied, a little winded from all the fake running. They switched places again and continued.

“Suspect has the lung capacity of a 4 year old,” Steve yelled, which earned him a pretend glare from Eddie as he stopped short, face red with both amusement and the exertion.

“I haven’t smoked in a long time, Steve.”

“Doesn’t make it any less true.”

“Ugh, you are so annoying.”

“I love you, too.”

They continued switching off, each roast of the other making them double over in laughter, along with Dustin, who was along for the ride at this point.

“Suspect spends way too much time in the mirror.”

“Suspect made and used a duct tape wallet,” Steve shot back.

“That was one time!” Eddie laughed.

“Oh my god, really, Eddie?” Dustin exclaimed. “That’s so lame!”

“Hey, don’t make me put your character in a sleep spell for the next two games,” Eddie threatened. “No comments from the peanut gallery.”

Steve whistled, barking out another laugh when Eddie snatched the phone from him.

“Go get your amazing ass over there, Steve,” Eddie snapped with no venom. He watched Steve saunter over to the spot, purposefully stretching as he got into position.

When Steve started jogging, Eddie was quick with, “Suspect befriended a group of preteens that he used to babysit!”

“So did you, you ass!” Steve yelled back, his cheeks red from laughing.

“Shit, I guess I did,” Eddie admitted. 

After this, they traded barbs quickly back and forth.

“Suspect uses 3 in 1 bath products,” Steve yelled.

Eddie smirked. “Suspect is very fussy about his food orders.”

“Suspect makes liking Halloween a personality trait.”

“Cheeky fuck,” Eddie grumbled as he took the phone, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Suspect had never read Tolkien before we met.”

“I never had time!” Steve yelled back

“Glad we met, then!” 

Steve groaned. “Suspect hasn’t had a hair cut in two years.”

“Suspect wears loafers.”

“That the best you can do?” 

“I panicked!” Eddie yelled back, pointedly ignoring Dustin collapsed with laughter at the picnic table on the side of the patio. It sounded like he was begging them to stop, but Eddie was just getting started.

Steve smiled evilly as Eddie ran. “Suspect leaves crumbs in bed.”

But Eddie gave back just as good as he got. “Suspect leaves his dishes on the counter.”

“Suspect always loses his phone because he puts it face down and on silent mode.”

“Suspect leaves the lights on when he’s not in the room.”

Steve smirked as he took the phone. He was quiet, and when he spoke next, his words surprised Eddie. “Suspect took too long to kiss me on our first date.”

Eddie stopped almost immediately, a look of concern on his face. Steve was looking down, face still flushed, but he looked unsure of himself and what he’d just said. “No, wait, I…”

“It’s okay, Stevie,” Eddie reassured him. He took the phone and gestured for him to get back in place. When Steve started moving, he said, “Suspect didn’t think he was worthy of love.”

Steve stopped immediately, mouth in a small surprised ‘o’. Eddie always could cut right through to the core of him. He always sussed out his inner thoughts. He didn’t move except to take the phone back from Eddie. He turned the camera back on Eddie and said, “Suspect made me fall in love with him.”

Eddie smiled, stepping closer. “How could I not?” He gently took the phone from Steve’s grasp and said, eyes fixed on Steve’s face as he spoke these next words. “Suspect made me want to marry him.”

Steve gasped, holding his hands up to his mouth. Eddie held the phone out behind him for Dustin to take as the younger boy came over, managing to compose himself in the interim. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small red velvet bag. “Steve…I want to marry you. I’ve never wanted anything more in my life. You deserve all the love I have to give you. You’re so worthy of all of it. And the only reason I took so long to kiss you the first time was because I didn’t want to scare you away. I didn’t want you to know that I’d already fallen in love with you the first time I saw you.”

He took Steve’s left hand in his and slid the tungsten ring on his ring finger. “Steve, will you marry me?”

Steve pulled Eddie forward in a bruising kiss, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Yes, yes,” he sobbed in between kisses. “Of course I will, baby. I love you so much.”

Eddie laughed, his own tears streaming down his cheeks. “I love you, too.”

Dustin came over again, the phone held up as he recorded the whole thing. “I caught these two suspects out and about. What do you two have to say for yourselves?”

Steve laughed, sniffling some as he wiped his tears away with the heel of his hand. “Suspect expects a Happy Ever After,” he said, turning to face Eddie again.

Eddie gave Steve a big grin. He only had eyes for him right now. He added, “Suspect deserves nothing less.”

[yallthemwitches]

Sticking the Landing

For @jilytoberfest Day 30: 🎶"where's the trophy? he just comes running over to me"🎶 - The Alchemy by Taylor Swift

I originally wrote just a little snippet pre jilytober but now it’s the longest fic of the collection!

AO3 Here

It lasts only seconds. The shock in her eyes, the warm feel of her arms wrapping around his neck, holding on as he bears all her weight. She makes a little shriek as her feet lift off the ground and momentum spins them together. As far as he is concerned, it is the greatest sound she has ever made.

But the air has to rush back into the world eventually. The minute she touches back down, her brow furrows, eyes darting towards the other side of the pitch where Sawyer stands. The bloke she’s dating stands.

Should I expect to see you in the Gryffindor stands or are you a traitor?

He had wedged the note inside her history of magic textbook. He turns around and waits, watching as her hand grazes the piece of parchment and her lips turn upwards.

Not sure, where does Switzerland sit?

It floats back to him under the table and he catches it without hesitation, not looking away from a droning Professor Binns.

I reckon somewhere in the Beaux Batons stadium.

She can’t help but chuckle at the snarkiness of it. Beside her, Sawyer makes a loud yawn, using his stretch as an excuse to lay his arm around her shoulders. All of the sudden every quippy response she thinks to write back crumbles to dust.

“Godric, this is boring. Should be illegal to have classes before a game.” She doesn’t respond to Sawyer because she knows he doesn’t actually expect one. She tries to focus on class again, and sees out of the corner of her eye James turning around, anticipating a response. With one look at Sawyer’s dangling hand, he whips back around, shoulders now stiff and set.

*******

“Woah, no way Evans. No double agent’s sitting with us on my watch.”

“Bug off, Black.” Lily sidles a little closer to Remus who shoots his mate an annoyed look.

“Er Lily, if your boyfriend is on the other team—does that mean that this is a win-win situation for you?” Peter wheedles out, looking like he’s trying to do a particularly difficult arithmancy equation. Sirius guffaws and slaps him on the back, making him give a sheepish, pink smile.

“Right you are Wormy–I guess you could say that Evans plays for both teams—Ouch!”

Remus leans over behind Lily and pulls hard on Sirius’ earring. “Stop embarrassing me.”

Sirius whimpers like a puppy and Lily can’t help but laugh. She feels bad to not sit over with Sawyer's mates in Hufflepuff, but their relationship is still new and she doesn’t know many of his friends well enough. Besides, she can’t help that the Gryffindor box is vastly more entertaining. Even before she became mates with the marauders, the boys would make a big spectacle, crooning and screaming fabricated songs, trying to get the crowd to participate in wildly ridiculous cheers— it almost made it easy to forget that there was a game going on—almost.

“Alright Evans?”

A tuft of black hair rises up from the bannister, James already on his broom and hovering up to the stands. His new captain’s uniform fits him nicely—the gold plating of his badge bringing out the flecks of honey in his eyes.

“Oi! Prongs! Where’s my good luck kiss?” Sirius starts to make wet kissing noises and Peter grabs his stomach laughing.

James smiles at his friend but his eyes remain on Lily. After years of fighting it, she is willing to admit that she likes him like this: hair actually wind blown instead of a fabricated attempt, mouth permanently set in a wide grin, eyes alight with excitement and zeal—the tight uniforms doesn’t hurt either.

“Thought you’d be sitting with the yellows.”

“Nah, figured someone needed to keep the peanut gallery in check.” Lily nods over to the boys, Sirius now lurching in an attempt to kiss Remus’ ear.

“How noble of you, a real martyr,” James winks, starting to float back to the middle of the pitch. It does something jarring to her heart. “But really–glad to see you here.”

He flies away, the words good luck sitting like a lump in her throat.

*******

THIS IS A NAIL BITER FOLKS—SAWYER DAWSON PASSES THE QUAFFLE TO AMELIA JENKINS. THE HUFFLEPUFFS ARE REALLY PLAYING WITH THE SKIN OF THEIR TEETH HERE. BUT WAIT, JAMES POTTER OF GRYFFINDOR SWOOPS IN, HE’S INTERCEPTED THE PLAY. YOU CAN TELL HE’S GOT THIS ONE IN THE BAG—MAYBE GETTING A LITTLE TOO COCKY WITH THOSE FLIPS…

THIS IS THE MOMENT OF TRUTH TO END THIS HELLISH TIE BREAKER—AH, JAMES POTTER SCORES!

James does a small victory lap around the side of the pitch, fist pumping into the air. They haven’t even won yet, but the Gryffindor stand is inconsolable, Sirius and Peter leading the crowd in a raucous chorus of We Will Rock You. Lily is infected by it, laughing and stomping along with the rest, only the glimpse of Sawyer panting and frustrated at the other end of the pitch makes her sober up.

James takes a pass by the stands and the crowd erupts in a roar ‘POTTER POTTER POTTER’. She doesn’t mean to join in, at least doesn’t consciously make the choice. Blame it on hive mentality.

The game continues, but this time there is a distinct energy shift in the Hufflepuff team. Sawyer is all offensive, making perilous moves to intercept the quaffle, barely scraping past as bludgers get aimed right for his chest.

He flies past the Gyffindor stands where Lily and all the rest are a deafening roar of team spirit, still chanting James’ name. He turns his head just enough for Lily to catch it, the twisted grimace of anger. It stops her cold.

*****

James couldn’t deny it, he felt good. It wasn’t even because they were winning, already climbing their score to the point where catching the snitch would turn into a formality. No, the real victory was the fleeting image of Lily, mouth wide open in jubilant revelry, chanting his name.

If he owned a pensive, it would be the first memory he would guard—it shouldn’t have mattered so much with the whole crowd cheering as well, but something about her flushed face, her stomping feet, her bursting voice—they could lose and he would be all the better for it.

The game kicks off again and James immediately swerves towards Hufflepuff chaser Brenda Alburn, eyes trying to juggle between following the quaffle and peeking back at the stands where Lily still watches. A sudden rush pulls beside him and Sawyer nearly clips his broom, turning around to give him a dark scowl.

It was odd for Sawyer who was usually a pretty level headed bloke. James ignores it, pushing forward towards the quaffle which is now meters ahead of him. He picks up speed, getting closer to intercept when he feels something coming in close.

He had no reason to double back but Sawyer is beside him again. As swift as flicking a wrist, he reaches out and yanks at James’ broom, sending it into a tailspin.

James feels a sickly upheaval in his stomach as he free falls, the world a blur of spinning color. Screams ring out from every corner of the pitch and he swears he can pinpoint one amongst the crowd—

It’s a gamble, a stupid, completely mental choice but he pushes himself off the broom, the world suddenly gaining clarity as the spinning ends. He has a zero second window to grab hold of his broom handle before it spins out of reach and he kicks his leg up, clipping on with his shin and the new pressure halts the broom's spiral.

The roar is deafening, mixing screams of amazement with cries of foul play, but it doesn’t matter: Gryffindor caught the snitch.

He feels nauseous, body heavy and begging to be horizontal, but he pulls himself right side up on his broom, already seeing the students from the Gryffindor stands leaking down onto the field, awaiting his descent.

Maybe it was the lingering vertigo, but it all happens too quick to digest in the moment. He feels his feet touch the soft earth. A roar of a crowd rushes around him, a blaze of red and gold like wildfire in an instant. She is there, but walking towards him or towards Sawyer he isn’t sure. His body moves on its own, quickening his pace before he can even stop to think about the consequences. A smile on her face, a smile like all the ones he’s savored from her since they had become mates.

He doesn’t need to make a decision, it is already made. He can blame it on the near death experience later. He picks up Lily and swings her in his arms.

It lasts only seconds. The shock in her eyes, the warm feel of her arms wrapping around his neck, holding on as he bears all her weight. She makes a little shriek as her feet lift off the ground and momentum spins them together. As far as he is concerned, it is the greatest sound she has ever made.

But the air has to rush back into the world eventually. The minute she touches back down, her brow furrows, eyes darting towards the other side of the pitch where Sawyer stands. The bloke she’s dating stands.

“I-I’ve got to go..I’m glad you're alright.”

He wants to address the fear that he can hear stuck in her voice, but she pulls her arms away, fingers sliding on his shoulders as she goes.

******

“Godric, Lily is so lucky. What I’d do to have the two fittest boys in school making a scene over me like that—“

“But who can blame him? Did you see how she screamed when Potter took the nose dive? She looked about ready to throw herself from the stands.”

Its hard to ignore because it’s all everyone wants to talk about. He wants to be the better person (“A game is a game—it was an honest accident—Sawyers a good bloke.”) but even his words hang hollow in the air because he knew the look on Sawyer's face too well—a look of pure jealousy.

“If it wasn’t his last year, I’d lobby to ban him—break his broom and watch as he cries..” Sirius slurs out, putting an arm around James’ shoulders.

“But hey, silver lining! Our lovely Evans was in rare form by your little tumble. I swear there were tears in her eyes.”

“Not helping Sirius.”

He wishes it would help though, because hearing Lily invested in his well being feels like a bigger win than the cup. But that doesn’t take away from the fact that she is not there—

A hush rolls over the crowd as the portrait hole swings open. Lily walks in with deliberate steps. She’s not an idiot, she knows they have all been talking about her. Not making eye contact she beelines her way to the drink table, ignoring as whispers follow her through the room.

He can tell she’s been crying—not in the way Sirius described but really crying. On one hand he wants to console her, apologize for whatever he has stirred up in Sawyer, but on the other everyone is watching. Him approaching her would just cause more uproar.

She pours herself a drink and takes a long swig before refilling it again. Turning from the table she doesn’t even wait to acknowledge anyone, just walks with her shoulders back up the steps to the dorm.

“You need to talk to her.” Remus says beside him like a voice of reason.

“Get your cloak and go up there—just for fuckssake make sure no one bloody sees you.”

Filling a new drink, he mounts the steps and finds the door slightly ajar. He’s never seen the inside of the girl’s dorm before but it’s much more put together than the boys’, records and books neatly stacked around well made four-poster beds. The record player garbles out some faintly familiar tune as Lily reclines with her eyes closed, drink still clutched in hand.

“Alright, Evans?”

She doesn’t open her eyes, but he knows she’s awake. He opens the door a bit farther but doesn’t dare to enter without permission.

“ I thought you might want a refill.” He half heartedly holds out the drink and she cracks an eye open.

“Ok Potter, price of entry granted.”

He takes a few hesitant steps in, standing in the middle of the circular space. He can’t help but feel like he’s crossing a barrier, like some infectious disease in a host body.

“Look, I just wanted to apologize,” he murmurs, unsure of how to proceed. Lily straightens up, eyes now open with suprise.

“For what?”

“I don’t know—“ he meanders, “I guess I just can’t help feeling like I didn’t something. Like this is my fault.”

“James, you could have died. Or have been easily incapacitated for the unforeseeable future. Sawyer had no right—.”

“It could’ve been an honest—“

“No, James. It wasn’t—and besides he told me.”

James feels his stomach drop in a way reminiscent of his earlier fall. “Oh.”

Lily sits up and swings her legs to hang over the side of the bed.

“I owe you an apology. It’s my fault anyhow.”

“I’m not following.”

Her eyes go suddenly glassy, the bloodshot streaks becoming more prominent as tears threaten to spill over again.

“Please don’t make me say it,” she bites out.

“Evans, I’m being serious I don’t—“

“I fancy you, ok! I fancy you and—Sawyer could tell. Unlike us he’s not a complete fool.”

She starts to say how this doesn’t excuse his behavior or that what happened at the game was warranted but James doesn’t hear it. His heartbeat is defeating, his whole body becoming red and feverish. The whole world starts to spin again but her, the clear stable focal point to everything.

He crosses the few steps it takes to be next to her and she stands up with a start, confused by his sudden energy.

“Does Sawyer—“ he lets it teeters off, knowing his question is clear.

“Let’s just say, Sawyer isn’t going to make the cut.” She snorts bitterly, eyes looking at her feet. “I should have ended it ages ago honestly.”

Maybe it’s because his body is still in shock from it all, but he lets his instincts take over, all propriety lost.

“Will you let me hug you? I would really like to hug you.”

She gives a tearful laugh and opens her arms in weak approval. He doesn’t hesitate, wrapping his arms firmly around her waist and pulling her in. This close she smells like roses and the salt of her tears.

“I’m glad you’re ok James.” Hesitant, she reaches her arms up to clasp around his shoulders, before pulling herself closer, burying her face into his Jersey.

“Who me?” He exclaims in mock shock. “Hell, I’ve never been better.”

[assignmentimprobable]

Day 3 of the DS9 marathon and Garak wants to fuck Bashir SO bad but somehow it makes Bashir look stupid. Is this what psyop math is like

[v-writes]

Fright Night Bet Results

Dash and Danny had made a side bet in addition to Mr. Lancer's competition to get out of detention, and it's time for Danny to pay up.

Prompts: "I really don't think you should eat that." by @anti-creepstick Selective intangibility, Danny learns, is much better than an xray. by @uniasus

Word count: 748

read on ao3

"Salt." Sam passed him the table salt at their cafeteria table.

"Pepper." Tucker said.

"Clothespin." Sam added.

Dash swept up to their table, placing a covered container in front of Danny. Removing the cover with a flourish he reveals his used, dirty, and torn underwear, "bon Appa-Tighty Whitey, loser!"

Danny picked up the underwear, his resignation weighed heavy in his chest, and Dash's underwear sagged heavier than it had any right to in his hand, as his stomach recoiled at the thought of following through on the lost wager.

Danny really should have let the stakes begin and end with who would get out of detention.

But when has he ever learned.

"I really don't think you should eat that." Sam deadpanned.

Tucker shook his head, adding, "I still cant believe he carries those around in his coat."

"Are you going to renege on the bet Fenturd?" Dash taunts.

"No. I'm not Dash."

Trying not to let any of it touch his tongue Danny shoved the garment into his mouth and down his throat.

One singular exaggerated swallow. "Are we done here, Dash?" Danny challenges, standing up and removing the clothespin from his nose.

"Holy shit you actually did it. And here I was thinking I'd get to beat you to a pulp for backing down from the bet."

Danny rolled his eyes, "as much fun as it's been learning about your lack of hygiene habits we've got better stuff to do than act as your dog and pony show, c'mon guys, let's get out of here."

Danny grabbed Sam and Tucker and pulled them quickly out of the cafeteria, and out of sight of the peanut gallery that had gathered to watch them.

Tucker looked at Danny dumbstruck, "you actually ate that?"

"You really didn't have to do that."

"It was for my honor Sam." Danny said with mock seriousness.

"Uh. Should we like. Go to an urgent care or? Is it going to digest? I don't think you can digest that, are you going to choke?"

"I think I'm fine? Were we followed?"

"Dude. Dude dude dude. No." Tucker grows more frazzled as he continued, "I didn't think you were actually going to do it, my mom is like, a nurse, do you have any idea how many stories I've heard of people eating things they shouldn't? You need like an X-ray or an ultrasound or something!"

Sam looked around them, "yeah, coast is clear, what's up?"

Danny stopped walking, reaching into his chest he pulls out Dash's underwear.

They're not even wet.

At least not wetter than before Danny had 'ate' them.

"Huh." Sam deadpanned, as her eyes dart to Tucker, "I bet selective intangibility is better than an X-ray."

"I didn't know you could do that." Tucker said a note of skeptical wonder in his voice.

"Neither did I? Didn't really think about it? Is there a-"

"You never think." Sam retorted.

Danny blinked, then grinned, which was the only warning Sam received before Danny threw Dash's underwear at her.

"Oh I am going to kill you Danny Fenton," Sam squealed dodging out of the way, "that's disgusting!"

"What, twice wasn't enough for you? Hoping third time is the charm?" Danny teased.

"Well I've never killed Tucker, so it must be an issue on your part, get more resilient or get over it."

Tucker looked up from where he was nudging the underwear with his shoe, "how did I get dragged into this? If you test how hard I am to kill I am warning you now, I will cry."

"Nobody is killing anybody," Danny joined Tucker, using the clothespin Sam had given him to pick up the underwear, "who knows where the closest trashcan is so we can get rid of this and get out of here?"

Sam took the clothespin from him, I'll put it in the ladie's restroom so we don't have to worry about any of the jocks seeing it and accusing Danny of cheating."

"Why don't you just use intangibility to put it in a wall or something? Tucker asked.

Danny and Sam froze.

Danny grabs the underwear, shoving it into the closest wall. "There. Now the only way anyone will find it is if the school does some serious remodeling or the school is tore down, and I doubt they'll care about a random pair of briefs then. See Sam, I don't need to think, I have you two for that."

She rolled her eyes fondly, "whatever dweeb."

[imjusthopelessenough]

Reddie (IT) Fic Rec

If there's anything that I consider myself an authority on, it is reading Reddie fics. This has been my hyper fixation since I watched the mini-series as a child. Since the glowup of the community, I have read SO MANY fics. These are all of the ones that I feel like are must-reads and have personally myself re-read countless times like my life depended on it. If you liked a fic, make sure to leave kudos and comments for the author! (Feel free to come and chat about it with me as well!)

Obligatory disclaimer: Just because I read a certain trope, or idea does not mean that I agree with it or align my values with it. Read at your own discretion.

the word's been passed (this is our last chance) - quarterdeck 44k one-shot

Summary:

“Uh, Spaghetti?” Richie waves a hand in front of his face, looking worried now. “Hello? Do you want to let me know whatever it was that was so important you had to drag me awake for it or -” “I have a turtle in my pocket that speaks to me in my head and is possessed by Bruce Springsteen,” Eddie blurts out. “Also I think it may be God.” Richie stares blankly at him. “What,” he asks flatly, “the fuck.” “Or a god, at least, I don’t know,” Eddie continues, “Either way, I think it was the one who brought me back to life, so. You know. The chances are very good.” -- It's been forty years. Eddie Kaspbrak is just trying to make it out of the river.

THE BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN FIC!!!! I feel like I talk about this piece at least once a week. If you at any point liked IT or felt interested in Reddie you have to read this fic. It is truly so amazingly well written, and I can't say enough kind words about it and I've read this fic at least 10x. Basically, Eddie comes back from the dead but he has a Bruce Springsteen turtle helping him guide his way. It's cute, it's campy, they're both dumbasses in love, and I believe this was one of the first instances of the iconic "The Turtle CAN help us," tag. A minor side note, quarterdeck is an amazing writer and will be recced either in this list or another list again. If you're looking for a good fix-it, dumbasses in love, and Bill rightfully getting his shit wrecked, look no further!

2. keep talking. i’ll keep walking toward the sound of your voice. - theappleppielifestyle 16k one-shot

Summary:

Eddie makes another noise, not quite a scream but not anything else either. Stan drops his hand. “Hey, Eddie,” he says. “Welcome to the peanut gallery. I wrote you a letter, but I guess you won’t get it now.” (Or, Eddie and Stan stick around as ghosts after they die. Unable to make themselves known to the other Losers, they have to find other ways to communicate.)

Big big fan of Stan and Eddie being sarcastic besties. I also love the ghost trope. This is such a good read. Basically, Eddie and Stan are ghosts and are watching the losers from the veil. We also get Patty in this one who is such an underrated character. If you're looking for a read that is slightly introspective but not super lore heavy that features Stan and Eddie, read this!

3. the mind's a funny fruit - joldiego 22k multi-chaptered (must have ao3 to read)

Summary:

A man wakes up in Derry, Maine with no memory and a hole in his chest. He names himself Richie and moves on from there.

Now normally, I am not a big fan of original characters being in fics. It feels random and inorganic and doesn't really serve a narrative focus. This fic is not the case! The lesbian B&B characters are so fun and cute and are actually fleshed out enough that you care about them! Basically, Eddie wakes up in the sewers and finds himself adopted by a sweet couple after not being able to be identified and has no memories. As time goes on, he slowly starts to remember things. If you're looking for a fic that highlights Richie's trauma from losing Eddie, the trauma of dying, and overall Loser Club feels, you should read this!

4. and nothing hurts anymore, i feel kind of free - elsaclack 13k one-shot

Summary:

“You have to remember,” Richie says. “You have to remember, Eddie. They need you. He needs you. They can’t do it without you.” Eddie furrows his brow. Everything about the conversation thus far has felt familiar, almost like hearing a once-beloved song for the first time in several years, but these words fall foreign on Eddie’s ears; he is very suddenly overcome with the distinct feeling that he’s no longer listening to Richie speak. He clenches his jaw against Richie’s shoulder, but does not open his eyes. “There isn’t a lot of time,” not-Richie says. “It’s watching you. It’s coming for you. For both of you.” The warning stirs something to life - fear, bone-deep and chilling. Eddie gets the feeling that he knows what it is, though he can’t quite grasp the memory; it slips through his fingers like sand in the breeze. The lights move faster, and Eddie does not dare open his eyes. “You don’t deserve this,” not-Richie says mournfully. “You never did.” “Why, then?” Eddie asks before he can stop himself. Not-Richie is quiet for a long moment. “He needs you,” he says eventually, “and you’re braver than you think.”

If there was a reddie fic that I could force everyone in the fandom to read, it would be this one because it is so underrated! I look at it and I can't believe that it's not one of the top rated fics because the writing is that good. All of their works deserve more praise, and it truly astounds me that more people don't know about them. The style that this fic is written in is amazing! The only complaint that I could really make about it is that it's not very read-aloud friendly due to said style. Each paragraph ending leads into another portion of the story which sounds weird, but it works so well! It's really hard to describe this fic so you should just read it and see what I'm talking about, it's not even that long!

5. you belong with your love on your arm - elsaclack 33k one-shot

Summary:

Maggie received the enchanted mantel clock three days before Richie’s first birthday as a gift from Wentworth’s Great-Aunt Grace. It’s a beautiful, ornate thing - three delicate, spindling silver arms branching out from its center, each arm bearing a sepia-tinted portrait in its thumb-sized head of Went, herself, and Richie, respectively.  Maggie can tell right away that it’s hand-made - one simply can’t find this kind of craftsmanship out of any old trinket shop down on Diagon Alley - and she finds herself fighting back an absurd wave of tears as she traces her fingers over the thin glass case protecting the clock’s face, watching the way Portrait Richie silently babbles up at the hand-lettered word Home over his head.

Another Elsaclack because I love them and they need more recognition. Obligatory fuck JK Rowling because this is an HP setting fic. This fic takes the two ideas of Maggie Wentworth loving her son more than anything and HP and forces them together and it's beautiful. Now, I am not a big fan of reading fics set from an outsider POV. I want to know everything that is going on and it feels like a waste of time to have to get to learn things from an outside perspective. Not the case here! The POV is very organic and nothing is really lost. Basically, this is a Maggie POV detailing how Richie meets the Loser's club and goes through Hogwarts, with slight canon from IT taking over at minor portions. Can't recommend it enough.

6. for a better run, pile your clothes - petalloso 13k one-shot

Summary:

Richie liked the thrill of knowing he had been just fast enough, the skim of air at a barely missed strike. He liked egging them on, a matador of the violent. Mostly though he liked the way Eddie made him feel, like he was nursing a broken heart before he could ever work up the nerve to confess and have it broken in the first place. And maybe that was fucked up but it was more than that, too. Eddie was wicked smart, stupid hot, brave and beautiful, and sometimes Richie looked at him and he was already looking back and Richie thought maybe. And then Eddie would bite his lip and look away and Richie would think no. (Vigilantes by night, best friends by day, Richie and Eddie are in love with both versions of each other)

Now, this is not tagged as such but if I had to describe this fic it would be as such: Miraculous Ladybug, College AU. And that basically sums up the entire fic. You've got the iconic four-square love angle superhero vigilante and they're in college trying to make it through life. It's a really cute AU fic and I love it a lot. If you're looking for less clownery and more dumbasses in love, this is for you.

7. Parent-Teacher Conference -trickdaggers 75k multi-chaptered

Summary:

Eddie loves his job, he really does. Even with all the shit a group of twenty-six ten year-olds can throw at him, he still loves what he does. Really, the parents are far worse than the kids, too many of them fitting the stereotypical mold of what an obnoxious LA parent is. He rarely interacts with them face-to-face, most discussion passing through the middlemen of their nannies and drivers, or via incessant emails about their uniquely-named child’s dietary restrictions. His actual students aren’t even the cause for at least half of the issues that plague him as a teacher at a private Los Angeles elementary school. Most of them are well-mannered, capable, socially aware kids, if not a little spoiled thanks to their environment. But then there’s Little Miss Peggy Tozier.

Now, I am not a huge fan of children centered fics. It often feels like someone just self-inserting themselves and the child has no depth and is kind of just...there. Not this one! Peggy is such a well-rounded character and actually serves as a plot point! Plus! As someone who is a teacher, the teacher life that Eddie leads here is very accurate and very funny. Basically, Eddie is an elementary teacher and has Richie's daughter in his class. Richie's daughter is a class clown, and Eddie repeatedly keeps trying to make attempts to rectify the situation whilst Richie tries to get in his pants. It's very light-hearted, the conflict quickly and easily resolves, and the pacing is done very well so you don't get that "nobody in the real world with a brainstem would do this." Highly recommend if you're looking for a light read that you can pick up and put down when needed with light easily resolved conflict!

8. if you could return (don't let it burn) - ShowMeAHero 19k one-shot (part 1 in a series!)

Summary:

“Not that I’m not enjoying our banter, buddy, but word on the street is you got a problem you could use some help with,” Richie says. “What’s bugging you at two in the morning on New Year’s Eve?” “New Year’s Day,” Eddie corrects again. “New Year’s Day, then,” Richie allows. There’s another beat of silence before he hears Eddie sigh audibly over the phone line. "I’m thinking about leaving my wife.” “Why’s that?” Richie asks. He’s already hooked. He genuinely cares about all of his callers and wants to help, but something about Eddie’s got its nails in him. Honestly, he doesn’t mind all that much. It’s a nice change of pace, to feel something. “We don’t get along all that well,” Eddie tells him. “I… I don’t know. We don’t really have anything in common. She’s sort of controlling, I guess. And I think I might be gay, so—”

I have so many feelings about this one. I love the trope of "we've never met but I would die for you." Plus, this fic is centered around Eddie saying Fuck Myra I want to be gay! Which is great! Without spoiling anything, Eddie is having a crisis and wants to divorce his wife. He finally gets the courage after listening to his favorite radio station which is hosted by Richie and calls into the station during a listener segment to let them know. He then continues to keep calling in and informing Richie and his listeners of his life accomplishments. There is unfortunately no Africa by Toto. I will say the part two actually deals with clownery and is a continuation and should be read but isn't needed. If you're wanting a canon divergence meet cute, read this!

9. footprints in the snow - hyruling 62k multi-chaptered

Summary:

Eddie meets comedian and rising star Richie Tozier at a comedy club, and his life is promptly turned upside down. His Twitter followers jump from 80 to 80,000 overnight, he's being photographed in the subway, and the dreams that have plagued him his entire life are becoming increasingly specific and haunting. Richie feels strangely like the home he's long forgotten, and falling into friendship with him is the easiest thing he's ever done. But the closer they get, the clearer it becomes that Richie is hiding something.

I won't lie the situationship in this fic made my fight or flight activate but it's a very good read and I believe this is one of the fics that the fandom in general regards as a must read. Now, I haven't re-read this one as much as I've re-read other fics in this list but it stands out in the list for its ending. I genuinely bawled big boo-hooed my eyes out reading it. The plot, without giving anything anyway, is very intricate and well done but explained well enough that you can understand what's happening without feeling like that picture of Charlie from It's always sunny. If you're looking for a fic that is very plot heavy, very heavy on the fornicating, and want a FWB to lovers, this is for you!

10. Tales Of A Washed Up Nothing - TheBlackLagoon 8k one-shot (part 1 in a series!)

Summary:

In which Richie watches too much Cheers, Sees a therapist, Gets a pet turtle and Saves Edward Kaspbrak’s life by playing Street Fighter.

I love this series so much. It so accurately describes the relationship between therapist and client as well as how do you move on after your whole world comes crashing down. It's a very realistic dealing with trauma and death fic but has a happy ending (but you have to read pt 2) To summarize, Richie is in a depressed slump and starts having some funky turtle dreams all while trying to cope with losing Eddie. So good I love it so much. If you're looking for a fix it fic that focuses in depth on Richie's Big Feelings, read this!

11. tell me we're dead and i'll love you even more - quarterdeck 100k multi-chaptered

Summary:

Richie Tozier is a chatterbox. The infamous Trashmouth, most relentless of babblers. Always has been. Loud enough to wake the dead, is what his parents and friends always say, but Richie doesn't know how to tell them that the dead were never sleeping. If they were, he'd have a hell of a lot more peace, that's for sure. -- or: Richie's Voices have more of a basis in reality than anybody thinks. He'd say it's a secret he'll take to the grave, but even that wouldn't be the end of it for him

Another quarterdeck because I love them and owe them my life. This is such an intricate and touching story. Essentially, a canon divergence in which Richie is like that one character from Ghost Whisperer in which he can hear ghosts and therefore has more knowledge than anyone else around him. It is written so good, and you get really invested in the story very quickly. Also, Frank is in this! Hurray! Basically, if you want a Reddie fic that is super heavy on the story line that features supernatural elements outside of the clownery, this is for you!

12. i am easy to find -zach_stone 47k multi-chaptered (Must have ao3 to read and is part 1 in a series!)

Summary:

Richie grabs the edge of the polaroid and slides it out from underneath the comic books. It’s a picture of a group of kids, all sitting on a porch in someone’s backyard. He recognizes his tween self pretty quickly — stupid hair, enormous glasses that made him look constantly bug-eyed. He’s really hamming it up for the camera, grinning with his arm slung around some dark-haired kid with a cast on his arm. He can’t remember who the kid is, who any of these kids are, but the way they’re all huddled together and smiling like they really give a shit about each other… he doesn’t remember ever having friends like this. “Who the fuck are you,” he whispers at the kids in the picture. He flips it over, and sees his own childish chicken-scratch handwriting on the back. Bill, Bev, Ben, Eddie, ME!, Stan, & Mike. September 1989! -- Or, 25-year-old Richie Tozier doesn't know why he can't remember his childhood, or why he has nightmares about yellow eyes looming in the dark. Then he finds an old photo of friends he can't remember, and things start to change. A "what if Richie and Eddie found each other again during the 27 years" fic.

I've always found the concept of the Loser's Club not having any memorabilia from Middle School/High School and not finding each other ridiculous. Like yea sure they lost all of their memories from their primitive years, that happens to everyone, but you don't have a picture or anything? This fic rectifies that situation and applies the universal truth that Richie would have found Eddie in the 27 years if Stephen King hadn't been an overdramatic bitch. Very lore heavy fic that deals with PTSD and two dumbasses finding their found family <3 also Stan lives!

[warwickroyals]

INTRODUCTION - DRAMATIS PERSONAE - FAMILY TREE - LOCATIONS - PART ONE

SUMMARY: The prologue to my long-awaited prequel series, this focuses on King George I, who reigned for over sixty years—the longest of any monarch in Sunderland's history.

WARNINGS: References to pregnancy and child loss, substance abuse, domestic abuse and colonialism

WORD COUNT: 2.9k words

MENTIONED CHARACTERS: King George I, King Louis II, King Louis III, Queen Alexandra, King James II, Prince Arthur (Duke of Albion), King Louis V, Queen Anne, Prince James (Prince of Danforth)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So, here it is. The introduction to the long-planned prequel series. This little introduction is completely prose, something I'm getting into more and more, but don't worry: this series will mostly be traditional story posts, with screenshots and everything. I don't want to give too much away, but I will say it's extremely important that it's James writing this prologue. I hope you all enjoy, please tell me what you guys think, huh?

DOCUMENT VERSION

It seems the whole country breathes at George’s command. — Sarah, Lady Turner, Dining Room Notes, 1860, “For the King” Devilish little brute. — Grand Duke Vladimir Alexandrovich, Statement during the wedding of King George to Grand Duchess Alexandra Alexandrovna (April 1861), quoted in Brig. Bernard Sidney’s The Life of King George, Vol. II (1922), p. 164

HE WAS THE tallest man in the room, although he was also the youngest. Below festoons of velvet, he cut the image of a stoic young general, but every now and again he would trace a hand up his neck and tug impatiently at his mustache. It wasn’t as thick as he would have liked; spindly at the ends and connected to patchy sideburns. He had considered shaving, but there wasn’t a chance he would appear bare-faced. Not on this day, not in front of this audience.

Thousands had lined the streets of Woodbine the night before, hopeful to steal a glance of the young man who would be their new king. The previous king had been just as young but sallow and sickly and the one before him a crispy-haired, shrivelled old prig; now the grim, bearded faces of Sunderland’s parliament stared and were stared back at by “the image of virile, fervent masculinity”. At twenty-one Prince George of Glencairn stood at five-foot-ten; he was muscled like a draft horse but had the temperament of a stallion.

Like his predecessors, George wore no crown, although the jewelled medals sewn into the breast of his uniform made up for it. His thighs ached, the hour’s long procession had been unforgiving on horseback, and his feet—crammed into knee-high jackboots a size too small—would need to be iced later. George’s crown advisers were in no better shape. They could hardly stand, evidently weakened by age and exhaustion, covertly blitzed on opium and whiskey. Propped up on walls and chair backs, they were a stark contrast to their young sovereign; a half-dozen gout-ridden and barrel-bellied statesmen with an average age of forty-eight. From the peanut gallery, elected members of parliament swayed impatiently. One octogenarian senator dozed off. George’s prime minister merely looked bored. This was the third enthronement ceremony in just under a decade.

There was no crown, no orb and sceptre, no archbishop, no holy oil. There wasn’t even a Bible. Yet it was undeniable that the figure perched before them all was . . . king. Not king through holy ordinance, but secular, constitutional law. When he spoke his voice was strong, maybe a bit high, but determined. Determination had carried him this far, it had carried him to the throne—well, determination and luck. Luck that his intrepid father had sailed to England and fallen in love with the daughter of an earl, luck that his mother hadn’t died giving birth to his sister, luck that said sister hadn’t been a brother.

For many in his sprawling family, George’s luck had translated to tragedy: a fatal bout of tuberculosis, countless stillbirths and miscarriages, an ocean liner swallowed by the sea, the death of a son, and the birth of a healthy baby who’d done nothing wrong but be born female. Secularism aside, it felt like fate, the line of succession had branched off, meandered, and sometimes split, but now it led solely to him, the eldest surviving grandson of Louis II. King George.

There were tragedies on George’s end, too. His sister resented him, his mother had been a smothering, oppressive force for most of his life, and his father had died within a year of his birth. Aunts and uncles plotted against him the moment he left the nursery. George had come into the world red and roaring, shrieking so hard the doctors feared he’d suffocate. It had been a hellish August morning, during a heatwave so intense candles melted from their sockets. George recognized the circumstances of his birth, he believed there was an inherent fire in his veins that would never bleed. As he grew the anger stayed with him and he channelled it to set his determination and wrestle for the throne. Now, the baby who screeched throughout the night, the boy who threw his toys about and stomped his feet, the young man who told off his professors was king, sitting on the throne, trying not to tug at his mustache, trying to look the aloof commander-in-chief.

Despite himself, George wondered about his mother. He longed to see her but could not. She was not at his side or even in the audience. She was back at Woodbine Castle. George’s uncle Louis III had banned women from the enthronement ceremony over forty years prior. He’d wanted to rein in his flighty, obsessive mother, his corpulent sisters, and his loathed second wife. Prevent his enthronement from looking like something “imagined by Christine de Pizan.”

It is often forgotten how much George relied on the women in his life. On the throne, he may have embodied a red-blooded machoism, but he was raised almost exclusively by women. His temper he accredited to his mother. His wife Alexandra served as his secretary for over fifty years. Of all his children, his “pocket self” and protégé was not his first-born son, but his eldest daughter. Yet we give these facts little thought. For that, George himself is partially to blame. To walk the streets of Warwick, now and then, is to be reminded of how obsessively George propagandized throughout his reign. Exit out the rear of the Royal Alexandra and there he is in bronze, seated under an ornate ciborium, flanked by the Virtues. He’s planted square in the middle of Wellington Street, standing proud on his pedestal, gazing sternly into the horizon. At Greensboro Park, his muscular figure is on horseback, sword hanging at his side, reins gripped by kielbasa-sized fingers. The grandiosity was clear, and perhaps some of the mysticism, George was still erecting monuments of this nature well into his seventies. Self-aggrandizing, yes, but George was a fervent believer in his own cult of personality. When he injured his leg in 1903, he declared that he would rather be shot than appear in public with a walking stick. If the king was weak, so was the whole country.

However, the Cult of George has allowed myths to pop up, so many that they often blot out the facts. Perhaps the most damaging, yet pervasive, is this: George stood alone; he was the infallible strong man who single-handedly dragged Sunderland out of the dark ages and into modern times, and that he implemented a form of harsh, but ultimately necessary, Caesarism in the name of collective good, not only as head of state but also as the head of a family, as a husband and father. The idea that strong, fearless men are needed to induce prosperity is a long-standing one, often repeated and associated with many world leaders, from Shaka Zulu to Winston Churchill. Yet it has attached to George with particular vigour; so much so that basic facts about him—his alcoholism, his proneness to tears, his bouts of jealousy—seem unbelievable. Alongside George, the man who lived and breathed, is a second mythical George, one that dominates this country’s pop culture and political discourse, fitted with nationalistic imagery, waiting to be rolled out at just about any crisis. He is astoundingly resilient: the real King George died in 1921, but Mythical George seems to be immortal. We have all been subject to his skewed memory, and it will take a great deal of work to cut through the hyperbole and reach the real George.

It is important to understand that Mythical George did not spring up by happenstance, he is there by design. Even in the decades following George’s death, the task of promoting his image did not stop, it was simply transferred into the hands of his descendants. No greater example of this can be found than what occurred in the spring of 1970. That April, the Americans launched the unsuccessful Apollo 13. Times were changing abroad. The previous month, Rhodesia had cut ties with the United Kingdom to become a republic. Big changes on the horizon at home, too: the same day Apollo 13 splashed down into the Pacific, James II of Sunderland was diagnosed with an aggressive form of lung cancer. And just two weeks later, on a tiny plot of grace-and-favour land, a ninety-eight-year-old man prepared to commit one of the most grievous acts of censorship of the twentieth century.

Prince Arthur, Duke of Albion was the last surviving child of George I. Save for a small retinue of servants, he lived alone. His wife, a Danish princess, had died twenty-five years prior. His younger son had sided with the Nazis during World War Two, a shameful scandal that still cast deep divisions within the royal family. Arthur lived on the fringes of upper-class society, his refusal to denounce his Nazi son made him an outcast, but James II didn’t have the heart to cut his great-uncle off entirely. The old duke received a “generous” allowance from the crown, one “befitting a veteran and Prince of Sunderland.” The rest of Arthur’s income came from the Royal Archives. In the last half-decade of his father’s life, Arthur was his unofficial secretary, a job no one else wanted. Throughout World War One and a bit afterwards, Arthur had directed his ailing father’s communications. Outgoing letters were written in Arthur’s hand, and official correspondence passed through Arthur before being handed off to government ministers. In his spare time, Arthur took on the arduous task of organizing his father’s extensive dairies, under George’s direction, Arthur edited, translated, and revised, but most importantly, he omitted. Arthur continued this effort after his father’s death; throughout the interwar period, huge swaths of George’s diaries were rephrased or completely removed. Ultimately these amended documents were shipped off to the Royal Archives for preservation, and the originals were stowed away.

Now, in the early 1970s, Arthur was a weak old man sitting on a mountain of historical documents, shaken by the announcement that James II was dying, and contemplating his own mortality. He knew what he had to do, but there was one lingering wrinkle. So, for the last time, Arthur took to his desk and wrote. In a move that could only be described as calculated, the old duke did not address the letter to James II. Jimmy was a “lame duck,” as Prime Minister Randolph had called him, so Arthur wrote to the next in line. The twenty-four-year-old Prince of Danforth, the future Louis V, although Arthur addressed him as “Loo”:

You may not know that I am my Father’s library executor & as a result I have in my possession a great deal of his documents. Most of them I have transcribed and passed along to the Royal Archives, but a select few remain. They are in his own hand, written mainly in English but also German & French. A long time ago, before you were born, I compiled these papers into a book & I have looked after it ever since, but I can no longer deal with it given my most recent illness. The book contains sensitive personal details; intimate letters between my Father and Mother, his more melodramatic diary entries, and even jottings of his sexual proclivities, if you can believe it. All this to say, they are of little historical or biographical value. No one has been as devoted to protecting my Father’s memory as I have been, and I can assure you the archives have done a thorough job of accurately preserving his legacy. Everything of importance has long been accounted for. I beseech you to grant me permission to destroy this troublesome book. I’m deeply worried it will fall into the wrong hands once I’m no longer around.

The letter never reached Louis. It was intercepted by the Woodbine Castle librarian who, alarmed, passed it on to the Keeper of the Royal Archives, who in turn forwarded the “inflammable letter” to Louis’s grandmother, Sunderland’s Iron Matriarch, Queen Anne. Appalled, Anne motored to Arthur’s estate and begged him not to do “this terrible, terrible thing.” She was too late. By then Arthur had suspected the foul play and he’d quickly burned the book the previous night. This hasty decision forever warped George’s historical image.

Arthur died later that year, but his portrayal of his father has stayed with us. Some glimpses of George’s original writings exist in a handful of biographies that pre-date Arthur’s stint as secretary. The truth of the matter is that through his editing Arthur revealed more about himself than he did his father. The George found in Arthur’s revisions is less emotional, less vulgar, and overall more rational than the real deal. This George didn’t have any pointed thoughts about foreign leaders and all his political opinions were sanitized, perfectly neutral. Arthur scrubbed away paragraphs that made his father seem “indecisive, delicate, or depressive.” Gone are George’s insecurities about his masculinity, his yearning for a father-like figure, and his paternal hardships. Correspondence with his male friends was wiped away, with the excuse that it wasn’t historically relevant. Left behind is an aloof, vague, husk of a man, one that could affect the image of stern, robotic patriarchy, but is otherwise devoid of emotion or personality.

Mythical George shifts and changes from person to person, be they a monarchist or republican; critic, or admirer; or even George himself, the function of Mythical George changes drastically. To one person he might be a genocidal imperialist who sought to expand his blood-thirsty regime, and to the next, he’s a brilliant innovator who detested violence and criticized the horrors of American slavery. For the royal family, however, the role of Mythical George is simple: mass approval. With every bolstered myth and half-truth, every omitted paragraph, the royal family becomes flawless, the perfect family. George was a strong, capable protector and Alexandra was Aphrodite reincarnated. Their marriage was harmonious and their children were dutiful and well-behaved. No one acted selfishly, everyone was a philanthropist, and everything they did was for the benefit of “the country.” Members of the royal family were polished porcelain figurines, unswayed by money, sex, or vice. All of this was, and continues to be, bull.

Novelist Leonard Kane believed three dominant world leaders shaped the nineteenth century: Napoleon, Queen Victoria, and King George I. George was certainly dominant, sometimes to the point of being overbearing: he was a bully, prone to emotional outbursts when things didn’t go his way. He was often rude towards people he didn’t like and at the very least brusque towards those he did like. He treated his children like possessions and manhandled his wife, reducing her to tears on more than one occasion. He dissolved parliament, censured MPs, and threw out prime ministers once they became too bothersome. He scoffed at the suffrage movement and loathed over-zealous social reformers for their rabble-rousing. Millions died during his reign through war, disease, and famine.

Yet behind these glaring faults was a man with a keen sense of duty and justice. He loved his family and defended them passionately, with his brusqueness came an unwavering sincerity and dedication. He educated his daughters as thoroughly as he did his sons. The King abhorred racism and championed civil liberties so fiercely he was considered a radical by stiff-necked European conservatives. He survived four assassination attempts, three strokes, and one world war. He remained on the throne while his ruling relatives were toppled by unrest and revolution. By the end of his reign, no other figure was as universally loved. The infirm and elderly believed he could heal with a touch, enlighten with a word. One Saanich woman travelled over 3,500 kilometres across fifty-two days, from Vancouver Island to Warwick, to speak with George for half an hour. Under George’s watch, the industrial wheel got spinning. George was five years old when the first electrical telegraph was sent, by his death telephone lines were slung across the access road leading up to Rockcliffe Palace. The soggy bogland that surrounded the palace would become dominated by skyscrapers lit up by electricity, flanking bustling streets packed with pedestrians, automobiles, and streetcars. From his momentous reign sprung feminism, populism, communism, fascism and a profound rethinking of social norms and the balance of power.

George was the most famous working man of his generation, equal parts flawed and accomplished. When we allow him to be buried under a mountain of myth and nationalistic sentiment, we are unable to accurately assess his reign. The accomplishments become indistinguishable, a mass of congratulatory propaganda that serves no purpose outside of peddling the Cult of George and Sunderlandian national pride. Worse, the flaws become permissible, a footnote that can be glossed over. Further, we also forget the man behind the legacy, the husband, the father of nine and grandfather of forty. George struggled with issues many modern men face; he grappled with bouts of depression alone, drowned out his innate anger with alcohol, suppressed sexual frustration under the gaze of an emotionally distant spouse, struggled with work/life balance, and felt confined by social expectations that are now forever associated with him, embodied by the everlasting sceptre of Mythical George.

George’s life was embodied by love, loss, and crushing perseverance in the face of family conflict, personal illness, and political strife. Above all, his life was characterized by defying the odds. What we truly forget is that George wasn’t born to rule. He was first a lonely orphan born in a rundown and understaffed palace, named George, after a British monarch, only because he was denied Louis. He had to fight for the throne, and then bend it to his obstinate, fiery will. It was George’s determination and resilience that moulded the modern world.

His Royal Highness Prince James, The Prince of Danforth August, 2015

[shoegazingmonad]

Looking back on this, I think it just might be my favourite panel in HSBC so far. And I say this because I just picked up on the hilariously concerning implications they're putting down here.

All of this is Jake's view on the situation. But the idea that Tavvy was being tricked into eating the peanuts seems to be projection from his subconcious; since CD forced him to eat peanuts against his will when he was sleeping on prospit, causing him to die of anaphylaxis.

I have good reason to suspect Tavvy's anaphylaxis was self-imposed. We've already had a situation similar to this one back in 'A Conversation Regarding Relevance', in which Jade threatens to kill herself with a Reece's (peanut butter chocolate snack thing) to force Alt Calliope out of her body. This entire argument happens within Jade's head, as though she's fighting her own psyche, and from an outside pov ignorant of her internal strife it looks like she's having an unexpected meltdown and trying to kill herself.

This panel of Tavvy choking manages to convey a similar sentiment despite its brevity. Gamzee is stood in the back, blending in with the purple background, the absolute picture of inaction in such a tense situation. Jake is ignoring him in favour of Tavvy, but it helps to emphasize Gamzee's lack of presence in a scenario that is, according to Jake, his fault entirely.

And Tavvy? We're only shown his body. Face obscured, but aligned with Gamzee's smug grin perfectly within view. Pose loosely based on Jake's from the ACT 6 ACT 5 flash (also referenced by Jake's outfit) where he's smiling his fucking ass off. Hand perfectly cut out of view so that you can't tell whether he's thrashing in panic or shoving those peanuts down his throat all by himself. Jake worrying himself as 'sick' as his boy was and wishing that 'nutty nightmare' would stop it already now just kinda sounds like he's calling Tavvy crazy for trying to kill himself on the regular. Amazing.

His motivation for doing such is kept pretty vague, but it's probably Gamzee in some way. If we're taking the Jade / Callie scene into account, it might have been a way to oust Gamzee from his body under the belief he's 'possessing' him. Jake suddenly imitating Gamzee's voice like he's being possessed by him whilst BGD is asking why he's doing the voice certainly works with that idea. 'It'd be so sick if you stopped doing the voice' kinda reads as Tavvy becoming sick to stop Gamzee's internal voice now that I'm looking at it. The end of this scene is supposed to be read with Tavvy in mind anyway in the sense that he's being haunted by Gamzee in the same way BGD is haunting Jake, and it ends with BGD taking his leave so I think that works fine. However I'm unsure of what that would mean for Tavvy.

The peanuts themselves are important though since they can sometimes be symbols of the audience (the peanut gallery) in HS. So alternatively Gamzee hiding them around the mansion and Tavvy desperately seeking them out them comes across as him trying to find the audience? And uh, eat them I guess. Perhaps a desire to kill the audience, and him being healed of his inability to do so is foreshadowing? Hrm.

On another note, Tavvy's hand looks blue and Jake's kneeling over him, crying like he's just discovered his son's cold corpse. The peanut allergy and death are simultaneous here, and following this Jake uses his hope powers to bring Jade back from the dead, so perhaps this event also cured Tavvy of death? Considering Gamzee's involvement in this (you can't keep down the clown) maybe that idea might not be too far-fetched... Though it'll probably be a while before we get to see any examples of that yet