#pa!etho

[geojester]

Last Life and the Dark Age aren't so different

[zhukzucraft]

You are now Joe Hills

Joe: Howdy, y'all! This is Joe Hills, live from Double Life² SMP

Joe: I'm standing here by my lonesome 'cause most of the folks are scampering into that Great Big Hole on the horizon

Joe: Can't say I blame them

Joe: And over here we've got some mob murder happening. Oh the humanity!

Joe: Now here's a man on a mission if I've ever seen one. He sure seems to know what he's doing!

Joe: Meanwhile our fellow newbie is doing some good old tree punchin' right at spawn

Joe: Hope that's not a faux pas

Joe: With so many roads to take, how is a regular lil' guy like me supposed to decide? But decide I must, and soon

=> Joe: Follow Etho

Start Over -- Go Back

The time for suggesting the course of action is over! An update is being worked on, and the old post finish will now be hidden under a readmore

What will you do?

================================================

This is where action suggestions come in!

If you want to suggest what Joe Hills should do next, please put it in the replies! After 3 days I will collect all the suggestions and choose one or more to base the next update on!

And remember: soulmates are getting assigned soon~

[touyas-multi-purpose-saline]

wisteria with hari kurono please?? 🤍

cw: Yandere Themes, Religious Imagery, Sacrilegious Themes, Hints of Kidnapping, Use of Drugs / Sedatives, Graphic Imagery, Hinted Stalking, Unhealthy Relationships, Uncomfortable Scenarios, General Dark Themes Not Suitable for Immature Audiences, Gender-Neutral Reader. Read at your own discretion! 18+ Only!

author's note: Thanks for this request! I really like Kurono. This was fun to write. It was definitely a prompt that made me think! REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN—READ TAGS! This was a prompt from "Yandere Prompts Flower Language" and can be found here . I do not condone unhealthy behavior in any sense! This is strictly fiction! Do not force yourself to read if you're uncomfortable.

PROMPT: Wisteria (Long Life, Immortality): "Tell me I'm your God/Goddess and I'll grant you a slice of Heaven."

word count: Approximately 1.2k.

You’re stumbling.

The floors seem to warble, they rush around in strange angles, a flock of birds scattered and frantic, and your arms swipe out for any sort of way to grasp those wings and whisk away too. Tears are streaming down your face, or maybe that’s blood, but you feel like you’re looking into a fishbowl and its fins tickle your cheeks and you wonder if you’re even crying. A stack of books open, their pages fluttering, and you wonder when the epilogue will draw to a close. You think you can see your life on each page, but they’re too fast and you can’t help but feel like you’re hallucinating even being alive.

Footsteps, is that what that is? There are claps of something plastic against the floor, into the darkness, reverberating, and you know that air recycles around you but you’re not gasping it in. Someone is walking behind you, a car tailgating, headlights on bright, blinding, and you can feel that they’re getting closer and closer and closer and closer and closer and

“There’s no point in running.”

A line slices between your brows, splitting the seam of your face, the cawing of a raven. You want to glance around, you do, and you feel like your landline’s been snipped. No tone, no message after the beep. You hope the voice won’t speak again, its odd tenor lilting into bass. Perhaps that saxophone has a blistered reed, and if you focus on the elongating hallways, you’ll be able to hear the trumpets on the horizon, that peachy swan. You know that voice. It’s terrifying, and that reed splinters more and more.

“I’ve hit you with the hour hand, so you’re not getting very far anyway. I’m surprised you’ve been able to get to this point.”

Is it because you’re lucky? Or has he been methodically stalking behind you, watching you trip over your own two left feet, watching your arms flail pathetically, watching you gag, watching you beg with wordless pleas? You know he has. Why are you even asking yourself these rhetorical questions? Maybe because you’re hoping some sort of ethos will nibble on the crux of your jaw, will whisper sweet nothings to comfort you, to tell you that this isn’t as bad as it will be. How long will this last? It’s like mushrooms are pooling into your veins, on a slingshot that keeps tensing backwards, and you’re rocking roughly gentle, and you think that there are hums dragging your body down below the current. If psychedelics steer your body into the ground, will those arrows shoot forward again, cottonmouths, vipers, rattles, and snatch you up?

“This is my fault, I’ll admit that. I should have put a chain on you, but I guess I miscalculated the exact dosage of the sedative. Maybe I don’t have your accurate body weight? Height? I’ve looked at the most recent doctor’s papers, but it has been a while since your last visit. My bad.”

Does he know what your endocrine system looks like too? Does he know each neuron, each axon, each hormone, each receptor, each cell, each threshold? Does he know the inner mechanisms of your subcortical structures? Hindbrain? Does he know how your hypothalamus works specifically? Can he target your front lobe? Parietal? Temporal? Occipital? Even your fucking cerebellum? Has he figured out their coding? Has he found a way to alter all of their functions until the floor swallows you and he can pull you by your ankles back into that desolate white room?

Who even is this man?

“I didn’t want to resort to this, of course. It just kind of happened. If you wouldn’t have run away, you wouldn’t be so… like this.”

How can he be so formal? So fake? Your head is spinning in ways that don’t comprehend reality. There shouldn’t be a way for your ankles to twist upwards, shouldn’t be a way for your downcast eyes to cross backwards and forwards, shouldn’t be a way for your heart to shred into two before reforming into loops. You just want a name—you just want a name.

“Hurting you wasn’t a priority. I wanted more than this. I wanted it to be easy, but you’re making it kind of difficult. But I’m sure you can already tell that.”

Just keep going, even if the slick underneath the soles of your feet, the jelly and jams of snails, trails behind you like vomit and spittle and slows you down. You can do this, you can get out of here. The darkness doesn’t want to swallow you, doesn’t want its throat to constrict around your shuddering frame, the refocusing of a camera lens, the click, the growling technology.

“Sigh. Listen, listen to me genuinely. You don’t have to be afraid of me. I won’t hurt you… again.”

The jelly turns into gum, turns into plasters that rip off your follicles, peel at your skin, residue on a windshield. It’s getting harder to breathe, but maybe that’s the extra poison he stabbed into you whenever you slipped underneath his legs. You shouldn’t have, shouldn’t have hit your knees to the floor and crawled, shouldn’t have barreled, back slamming against the ground, rattling your skull, just to escape him. That needle was sharp, that arrow was sharp.

“All I want is for this to be perfect. Tell me I’m your God and I’ll grant you a slice of Heaven.”

Insane, he’s so insane. He can’t be there in the head. Whatever verses, whatever psalms, whatever dead sea scrolls, whatever avesta, whatever sacred texts he’s built this foundation upon are just words on a page. Maybe it’s what he wants, maybe there’s a reason, maybe that’s why your knees wobble and give out. That’s why the balls of your palms ache whenever your nails clatter to the floor.

There are worms wriggling around the edges of your vision, dancing, singing, laughing, rejoicing, hallelujah, hallelujah. And you can’t focus on the sound of his approaching footsteps, the drumbeats, the way your ears hear whistles and bells, the way the floor grows hotter and hotter, melting oil and broiling lakes, and you feel like those cloudy acres shift into burning flames. He’s almost here, imminent domain.

“Will you love me like I ask?”

You can’t respond, the words are glue and bondage taped around your throbbing tongue. Maybe you were never crying, maybe that’s why drool is seeping from your ducts, maybe the romans were right. There’s a tourniquet in your body that loses its threads, and your side collapses, the puzzle pieces of the tiles filled with hymns and sins.

He stops. Your eyes are blurry whenever you slowly turn your head. Those lava gray locks are snakes swaying in the wind, those piercingly cold eyes. There’s a memory in your head, a face behind fencing, something tucked away, a name, a person, recognition. But that won’t save you now.

“Because, you know, it’s not like you have much of a choice.”

[riacte]

Space Opera AU dashboard simulator 2 (but there's plot if you squint) (probably worse than its predecessor)

🚀 renthepilot

HAPPY BITRHDAY TO ME!! I TURN 7!!! :D :D :D <3 <3 <3 RD

❤️ falsewell

Happy 7th birthday Ren! :)

🚀 renthepilot

Thank u FalsE!!!!!! :DDDDDD >.< RD

🍵 cinnamontea Follow

... Why is my 17yo ET1blr mutual talking to a 7yo on Sunblr. I came here for analysis posts but apparently she's babysitting her cousin or perhaps a strangely intelligent dog??

❤️ falsewell

I mean, I would be worried if a 7yo was piloting the glider I race in 🤨

🍵 cinnamontea Follow

WDYM THAT GUY IS YOUR RACE PARTNER? OMFG I AM SO SORRY

🍀 et1vision Follow

Chat do you remember when we found RK and QoH's Sunblr accounts from when they weren't famous and were just two kids in illegal races. Because it was hysterical. Hands up if you thought falsewell was someone's canon url and not QoH herself.

🪓 handoftheking

That interaction was pretty cute to be honest. Ren's still 7 the last I checked.

🪸 hoes4redking Follow

[deep sigh] littlewood at the scene of the crime as always

#WHYYYYYYY is he chronically online #he needs to be stopped and locked up #i bet he scrolls through the treebark tag every day #he knows Too Much #do you think he brings up sunblr during dinner #and etho and bigb look at him like hes insane

7,207 notes

🔥 yaoihell Follow

save me queen of hearts

🔥 yaoihell Follow

queen of hearts

🔥 yaoihell Follow

queen of hearts save me

🏐 apollos-dodgeball 🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀 Follow

Congratulations on the prophecy!

[Beep boop, this is a gimmick blog!]

🔥 yaoihell Follow

what the actual fuck.

🌼 fast-and-bifurious Follow

i think i hauve the plague

47,981 notes

🫐 toxicblueberry Follow

hi babes the demons in my head won so new fic!!

i'm your biggest fan, i'll follow you until you love me, pa-pa paparazzi

pairing: the red king x blue stalker (they/them) (exterra 1 rpf)

summary: why are you as a bounty hunter so intent on hunting ren down? what do you want to do with him? pin him against a wall and kiss him until he's breathless and melting like putty in your hands?

word count: 10.1k

tags: enemies to lovers, angst, hurt no comfort, whump, ust, no actual smut, making out, blood, slight knifeplay, submissive rk, open ending

Keep reading

🏹 queenofheartsfanclub Follow

Listen, I don't do RPF, I can handle Treebark (because I have eyes), but this is crossing a line. Especially after the accusations by RK. I think his evidence is pretty compelling.

🫐 toxicblueberry Follow

dead dove do not eat. i am aware this is a fucked up dynamic but it's fictional. it's not like the real blue stalker has a toxic codependent attraction to the guy they're assigned to kill (btw i mained qoh so i completely understand where you're coming from)

🫐 toxicblueberry Follow

oh.

🏹 queenofheartsfanclub Follow

hey

so do you wanna kiss before the haters get to you?

🫐 toxicblueberry Follow

of course. can we get married

#love can be found on the battlefield in more ways than one #fave post #annoying treebark fans fuck off!!!!!!

1109 notes

🌹 fyeahroseduo Follow

Coming out as a falsedog shipper is harder than coming out as gay

🦇 starshipspachelbel Follow

TEN YEARS????

Time is not real

🌃 nightpatrols Follow

I had vivid flashbacks. I feel faint. This post caused so much drama omfg. I need a treebark equivalent on my desk by 8am sharp next morning

🪓 handoftheking

Coming out as a Treebark shipper is harder than coming out as bi

🌃 nightpatrols Follow

WHAT THE FUFHUBFBFUOUOFFUCK

#HES IN OUR WALLS #HE STARTED THE SHIP #this is gonna sweep the next unhinged moment poll #??!?1!?!???!?!?! #HATE THIS LUMIAN GLOWY ASS #btw for non et1 mutuals: this man is literally bi #yeah hes really gay for his pilot. yeah we all know #theyre always holding hands and shit #edit: DID HE REBLOG THIS AT 7:30AM #IDK HOW PLANETZONES CONVERSATION WORKS #*conversion #listen i failed school 2 years in a row ok 😭

19,626 notes

🎵 daily-music Follow

Music video of the day is: R8cer Boi by Avril Lavigne!

🎵 daily-music Follow

who the fuck is renn dog

🎵 daily-music Follow

who has little wood

🎵 daily-music Follow

why are y'alls twink racers larping as royals from medieval era planet earth

🎵 daily-music Follow

sorry for calling the queen of hearts a twink. im sorry women

#im so done with yalls bullshit #who are these people #why do they show up in my tags

898 notes

[dreamermg]

Interviewed by the PA news agency, she was asked about her workload and replied: “Well, I think in the context of the monarchy it takes more than one person to be able to stay in contact, and we’re part of the eyes and ears.

“So, as much as possible, we just want to get out and find out what’s going on and help support people who are doing an incredibly good job, wherever they are in the country and that applies here too.

“You look around here, there are charities here that are well established, and they do a fantastic job and that kind of ethos has to be supported, wherever you find it, so that’s not difficult.”

[powderblueblood]

YES! NO! OKAY! I DUNNO!

ronnie and eddie volunteer at the hawkins high carnival to start their senior year off wrong right. wc: 2.4k warnings: eh, none. swearing. era-typical misogyny and shit. ronnie ecker gay as hell. was this inspired by the opening scene of bottoms (2023)? maybe! mind your business! requested by the lovely @joejoequinnquinn

“The thing is, man, when Ms. Kelley calls, you answer.” Ronnie shrugs through a mouthful of kettle corn and Eddie can almost hear the like Ghostbusters! She doesn’t even need to say it. 

“Kelley did not call you, first of all–”

“--well, no, we met at the market. Which is way more intimate, if you think about it. Romantic.”

“Second of all, this is a total fucking betrayal of your anti-school spirit ethos.” Eddie, with his wound cloud of cotton candy stuck in a cone, gesticulates wildly. Dude’s even scaring away the flies that might dare land on it. "What, you’re all pep squad now because you gotta nosebone some teachers into giving you scholarship recommendation letters? Volunteering for the fucking carnival?” His hands go up, a makeshift bandleader for the jaunty circus soundtrack that twinkles through the humid September air. “What’s next, the Young Republicans?” 

Ronnie’s whole face crushes in disgust. As per usual, she’s overestimated his perception in these matters. Dumbdumb is totally missing the point. 

“Edweiner,” she says, adjusting the strap of her overalls, “What I think you’re failing to essentially recognize here is the fact that–look around!--there are girls here.”

Damn fuckin’ skippy. Cheerleaders, nerd girls, regular girls, artsy girls, band girls, chess club girls, girls all wearing marginally hipper clothing than they usually would. Because the Hawkins High school carnival is prime hunting ground for hookups. 

Not that Ronnie's looking for any such thing, but it doesn't hurt to see how the other half live.

“Yyyyeah, girls that have spent the last four years ignoring u–” 

Okay, ixnay. Ronnie cuts Eddie off right at the knees, shoving a full palm into his face.

“Mmmm, glass half full me for a hot sec,” y’know, god knows what brought this optimism on for Ronnie. Maybe her job directing lowly freshmen toward the gaming booths, maybe it’s the kettle corn that kind of tastes like carpet, but she’s rolling with it, “These are girls that are still in fuck-it-it’s-summer mode. Girls that are entering their senior year of high school. Girls, okay, girls who may have finally realized that the social hierarchies of Hawkins are total bullshit and want to start off their year with a bang.”

She and Eddie stop in their tracks, identical brown eyes staring each other down. 

“A finger bang,” Ronnie encourages.

Eddie blinks, slow and spacey, like a cow.

“Fruuuhm you.”

Again, with Eddie’s shaking of the fucking cotton candy. There’s a wasp trapped in there right now. “Are you fucking high right now? Are you insane?”

“Technically, yes!” Ronnie can smoke and bike, it’s fine. “Hereditarily, jury’s still out!” Eddie sorta cringes at that one, and she smirks. “See, I can make those jokes, because of the loopy mom of it all. You can’t make those jokes.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Cue disheartened shrug. ”But. Y’know. We can leave.” 

Her metalhead comrade grimaces, Reeboks kicking through the grass as a bunch of freshmen scatter in his path. 

Ronnie sighs real big. “We can leave… if you’re too chicken to stay.”

Pump the fuckin’ breaks. Ronnie keeps walking a few paces, intentionally leaving Eddie in her dust.

“Ronald James.”

And then she pivots. All that’s missing is Ennio Morricone playing from the heavens. Or the PA, whatever.

“Edward… ward.”

Eddie squints, his heavy brown knitting furiously. “You just call me a chicken?”

And Ronnie shrugs, cool as crushed ice. “If it walks and it buh-kawks.”

Scoff. Scoff. Scoff. Eddie’s whole torso is wracking with scoffs, he’s like a courtesan dying of consumption with scoffs, he’s about to keel over with scoffs, he quite simply can’t believe–

“Quit hawkin’ up hairballs and square up, pardner!” Ronnie yells. 

Enough with the theatrics! It’s like clicking in a seatbelt, the way their competitive nature with each other activates. Just add chicken and they are off, Eddie flinging his cotton candy to the wayside, the sticky mess hitting a nearby kid. The two of them jostle through the carnival, tracking on up to the sad-looking shooting gallery that’s being manned by one of their greasier classmates that neither of them recognise. Eddie, that big-handed buffoon, beats Ronnie to the punch of slamming down his fluorescent green tickets. 

“Hi! I’d like to shoot to kill, please,” he booms. 

The kid just stares at him, shifting to the left. “‘kay. Whatever. It’s three turns.”

Ronnie rolls her eyes as Eddie slams the pellet rifle into his shoulder– she’s seen his hand-eye coordination, alright? It sucks dick, the dude can barely walk in a straight line. It’s a miracle he can play guitar at all! 

Ptew! The first of the little tin duckies barely makes it away with its life, narrowly avoiding a blow to the head from Munson. Ptew! Second one, not so lucky. 

Eddie, roving around with the rifle for his final victim, yells to Ronnie. “Looks like havin’ a dad with a rap sheet pays off, Ron!”

Ptew! Third and final. Eddie’s face peels back into that terrifier of a grin that’s like, okay, calm down, Bozo the Clown.

“Pfff… beginner’s luck,” Ronnie tuts.  

“Like you’ve ever even held a gun before,” Eddie says and pivots back to the kid manning the booth, who’s passing him his prize. “Hold on, nonono, gimme that bear. The like, the zebra print one. With the fuck me eyes.”

The volunteer carnie doesn’t budge. “You only hit two. The bears are if you hit three. You win green Papa Smurf if you get two.” 

And gingerly, Eddie accepts the little off-brand Smurf. Where do they get this shit? Does it fall off the back of the same truck that carries Bev’s off-brand liquor at The Hideout or what?

Whatever, Ronnie grabs the rifle from him and settles it against her shoulder. She can already hear Eddie tutting like, there’s no way and don’t embarrass yourself, Ron, but the thing is–ptew!--you don’t get to be as good of a drummer as Ronnie Ecker–ptew!--without learning a little precision. 

Ptew!

“What?” she shrugs to an open-mouthed Munson as the pimply kid passes her a big ol’ overstuffed bear, with the fuck me eyes painted on and all (weird feature. Ronnie might regret having this in her bedroom later on), “Like it’s hard?”

Eddie huffs, because that’s a boy that hates to be shown up even if he spends so much of his loser ass time being shown up. But, it’s usually not by Ronnie, so! 

They keep movin’ through the fair, like that old folk song goes, two heat seeking missiles looking to outdo each other. Ring toss? Piss. Cornhole? Are you fucking kidding me? Balloon darts– okay, so they maybe blew their wad a little early by going straight to the gun range but there’s gotta be something… 

Then, Ronnie spots it, because it’s all flailing and water and choking and drama and shit. 

Dunk tank.

She yanks Eddie over by the collar. 

Whoever the poor sucker was that they’d been dunking made an extremely dramatic exit. Ronnie overhears something about, ‘What do you mean, you never asked him if he could swim!’ squawked from the irate mouth of one Nancy Wheeler. Because of course she’s involved in cruise directing this, somehow. Like, where does she get the time? How does she have even a minute gap in her schedule for this? How can someone look so pretty when she’s stressed? 

Then, next thing Ronnie knows, ol’ Blue Eyes Wheeler is walking towards them. Orbs of azure all ringed apologetic and Ronnie’s rooted to the ground, she can’t move, she can’t think– 

–and naturally, Nancy’s looking at Eddie.

“I would usually never, never ask this…”

“He’ll do it.” She says it without hesitation, without thinking, without considering Eddie, like, at all. 

Which naturally makes him bark, “I’ll do what?!”

“Be the dunkee. Be the dunked man,” Ronnie hisses, eyes flicking from a confused Nancy to an enraged Eddie. 

“Oh god, would you? Please?” Nancy asks, almost begging– and look, the girl knows how to turn on the charm. She might not be Eddie’s type, not in eight million bajillion lightyears, but it’s near impossible to say no to her. “You can swim, right?”

“And it’s just about time for his yearly bath! So! Heh!” Ronnie gasps a little too loud for her own good, earning a gravitational pull back from Nancy and Eddie. No? No giggles for that one? Fine.

Eddie just shakes his head, sour expression immovable because he knows there’s no saying no to this– it’s for charity. A dumb charity he doesn’t care about, sure, but it’s for charity and also a girl is asking him and also he is determined to not look chicken. Ronnie knows this. It’s why she keeps winning.

“Yeah, Wheeler, I’ve been known to doggy– hold this,” and Eddie pushes green Papa Smurf into Ronnie’s chest, peeling off his jacket on the ascent to the dunk tank. 

Nancy lingers by Ronnie a second, resting her forehead against her clipboard. 

“Oh, thank god. We might actually make our donation target–like, everybody’s gonna want to drown him.”

A beat. Nancy raises her permed head, glances toward Ronnie.

“Did I say that out loud?”

“You did.”

“Sorry.”

“Eh, I get it.”

Nancy flutters on by, muttering something like a thanks and a good luck and an I really hope he can swim. 

Now, to his credit, Eddie makes for a pretty great picture of defiance as he straddles the plank, still fully dressed in his Hellfire shirt (Ronnie’d call nerd, if she wasn’t also wearing hers) and his shredded up jeans. Then it occurs to her that he may not have completely disrobed because he’s not wearing underwear. And that’s disgusting. Moving on.

Ronnie lets him have it, for a while anyway. Nancy was onto something– an alarmingly hefty line of would-be dunkers start to gather, everyone from cheerleaders to underclassmen trying to prove something. Not to side with the idea of gender conformity or whatever, but the couple of cheerleaders that step up to the mark don’t quite throw hard enough to hit. The sophomore that follows them is thrown off his game immediately when Eddie pretend-lunges at him, devil horns at the ready. 

Gareth, their newest freshman recruit and Ronnie’s personal drum mentee, sidles up beside the tank to hype up his fearless (pffft) leader. 

“Doin’ pretty good up there, Eddie!”

Loud enough for Ronnie to hear, Eddie hollers, “Piece of fuckin’ cake, freshman…” 

“Gareth…” he mumbles.

“...I’m gonna be bone dry ‘til the end of this shift.”

Well, y’know, so like, he asked for it. 

Ronnie tosses their hard won stuffies to the side and elbows a couple of basketball players out of the way. Cue watch it, freak!, yadda yadda, who cares, give her the ball!

“That’s what the last girl who hooked up with you said, right?” Ronnie bats to Eddie, stretching her arms above her head like a pitcher. 

If she’s not mistaken, he’s relieved to see that she’s cut the basketball boys (who’ve got much more experience tossing balls than she does) out of the way. 

“Ecker, I’ve seen you in gym class! You throw like an amputee! Bring it!”

Again, he asked. So Ronnie goes ahead and winds up. 

Eddie, in all of his your ass should have learned by now have you not been watching do you not see the signs ego, turns to Gareth. 

“See, Ronnie doesn’t seem like much of a girl but she does throw like o–”

Boom! And the metalheads goes down into the murky depths, not unlike Gareth’s DnD character that Eddie so mercilessly merked at the last Hellfire session. Ronnie doesn’t hold back a cackle, seeing Eddie resurfacing like a drowned river rat and spluttering. 

“Ffflfpfpfl! Fluke! That was a flu–” he jabs a finger through the mesh to something behind Ronnie’s head, “Wheeler, that was a fluke throw!” 

“Is he floating? Oh, good.” Oh. Nancy’s back. Nancy’s back and she’s watching Ronnie. Oh. Oh that’s… Ronnie makes the grave error of glancing over her shoulder to see Nancy grinning, clipboard bound to her chest. “She’s got two more to prove it, Eddie.” 

“Just take the–” Eddie struggles to make it back to the plank, sodden clothes and all that shit, “Just take the ball because she’s not gonna get–”

Bullseye! See, that’s how you don’t choke in front of a pretty girl and all the rest of your classmates, dude, you just wind it up and get it done! Ronnie’s buzzing with a touch more adrenaline now, and it’s going straight to her mouth. 

“Come again, water boy?!”

“Water boy?” Eddie babbles once he floats upward again, struggling under the weight of, I don’t know, his waterlogged hair to straddle first position.

��‘Cuz you’re wet.”

“Not your best. Not your b–”

Not even a full sentence out and Ronnie’s put him back under again. Hello. Why has she never tried out for softball. Would that be too obvious. This is kind of making her wacky, a little.

“What was that, Munson? Whawassat?” Ronnie stomps as the poor bastard tending to this wretched machine helps a soggy Eddie back onto dry land. “Couldn’t hear you over the sound of women’s rights! Can I hear it for women’s rights?! … Ladies?” 

Zero response. Crickets. Nancy Wheeler’s even disappeared. 

Scooping up their stuffed creatures, Ronnie’s shoulders sag– and she narrowly gets out of the way of Eddie, who’s racing towards her, helicoptering his soaked hair. 

“Don’t be– don’t be shaking your Lassie locks at me like some damn dog! Jesus Christ… my sweater.”

“My apologies to the Gap by way of the Salvation Army,” Eddie sneers, draping a towel over his head as he struggles to put his shoes on. 

“One more?” Because Ronnie’s nothing if not sympathetic, alright? Dude’s drenched. She'll let him win this one.

Squelching, Eddie nods. And just like that, to their left, shining like a beacon with a trail of suckers lined up outside…

“One more… to prove we’re not…” …staffed by a multitude of cute-as-a-button beauties…

“We’re not chicken…” …glowing with the radiant halos of fuck it, it’s summer, fuck it, it’s my senior year…

The Kissing Booth. 

Ronnie and Eddie each wear a thousand yard stare. 

Eddie, for reasons pertaining to freakdom and Ronnie, also that, but jacked up to a degree of potential social pariah. God, could you imagine? Could you imagine if she had the nerve to go completely fuck it, completely hetero-nuclear and march on up there with her dollars in quarters dug out of the couch and be like, Yeah, Tina Burton. Lay one on me. Oh, you’re switching shifts? Oh, that’s okay, I can wait… And who is that? Nancy Wheeler? Well, hell! Isn’t it just my gay lucky day!

Because Ronnie can imagine. Is imagining. 

“But I'm… I’m kinda cold.” In truth, Eddie’s kinda turning blue. That September chill is starting to set in, finally… so it’s back to the parking lot they go. 

“And I’m kinda hungry. You shouldn’t kiss people when you’re hungry, right?”

“No, that’s how they discovered cannibalism.”

“Right. So let’s–”

“--Big Boy Burger?”

“For the big boys, yep.”

[amethystfairy1]

Hi! Not a question but I just read all your work on Through the Sky-Blue Cracks in one go, and I loved it. Really like the Ren/Martyn, the Doc/Etho and the Zed/Tango part (I love the whole story, but those parts were adorable!), and I can't wait to read the rest!

All the best, a french reader.

Thank you thank you!

I'm so glad you enjoyed my work and the whole story!

Je n'écris pas souvent en français...je parle mieux que j'écris! 😅

Merci d'être venu me dire bonjour!

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Hi Rumortracking  Anon! Re: Markus Anderson, idk if you’ve already seen this, but SMM subreddit has an extremely well-researched and enlightening post in 3 parts - “Deep Dive into Markus Anderson” and the early days of Soho House - that is loaded with links to articles, going as far back as c2008-9, detailing MA’s history - from its very inception in London - with Soho House.

MA’s job is to travel to prospective global venues, setting up new Soho House locations…not only the brick-and-mortar facilities, though, but also (and most importantly) the preliminary “special sauce” of identifying and coalescing the ~exclusive core Soho House membership groups in each city, who are then invited to join the SH clique. They consist of trendy up-and-coming 20/30-something “creatives” mixed with established, wealthy oldsters, and each group wants/needs something from the other…the reflected shine of youth/beauty/innovation v access/money/connections…and sex (lots of kinky, nonjudgmental, libertine sex). Markus is the magician who concocts this Soho witches’ brew of social interaction in each city/SH venue, and he evidently is uniquely talented at it. Like a shadowy, deviant society hostess, MA mixes and fixes people. His little black book, not to mention his private phone photo galleries, must be titillating! Also, from very early on, Soho has maintained a Soho House yacht, used for events like Cannes. 

Suspicious types like Weinstein, Epstein, and Maxwell have been involved in SH from the start, and MM’s first documented interaction w Soho House was in 2010 (a picture of her and Ninaki Priddy at one of the LA Sohos). Note: this was before Suits, before her relocation to Toronto, before Soho House Toronto. In other words, MM and MA most probably have known each other for a very long time, and it’s likely that MM has worked for/“at” various Soho Houses (allegedly…and in what capacity, who knows?). Scooby Doo (MA’s alleged ex-lover), Lainey, Messica, Edward Einninful (sp? the UK Vogue editor guy), Missan, ALL of the Yorks (PA, Fergie, Bea, Eugenie)…they all have long-standing ties to Soho House. Not to mention, the curious coincidence that MA was born in Peterborough, Ontario, CA less than a year after Pr Andrew attended school there for a semester…

As you read through these well-documented SMM posts/articles on MA, the linked articles about Soho House “culture” and “ethos” (lol) are equally as riveting. There’s a reason these posts are marked NSFW. Even pics of the Soho House dining room wallpaper are labelled NSFW iykwim. If you or anyone else are interested in falling down the Soho House rabbit hole, then brew some tea, pour a nice Chardonnay, pop some popcorn, and settle in for some juicy reading! 

(Hope this link works: 

https://www.reddit.com/r/SaintMeghanMarkle/comments/189it6f/soho_house_deep_deep_dive_part_1_soho_house_early/) 

***********

I appreciate that SMM has such a loyal following but I’m not a fan. I know these are fighting words but SMM and Sussex Squad are different sides of the same coin. God help you if you disagree with the hive (which I have). It’s not fun.

And come on. Prince Andrew is Markus Anderson’s father just because the dates line up? Do you know how ridiculous that sounds, without any other proof? It’s as absurd as saying Kate is a falling-down-drunk alcoholic who drank her way to stomach cancer or that “abdominal surgery” is code for William having been physically violent towards Kate because of his anger and her 3 month convalescence is so she doesn’t have to be seen with bruises and broken bones. This, by the way, is exactly what Sussex Squad is saying about Kate’s health crisis.

SMM isn’t for me anymore. I’m not going to funk anyone’s fun but coincidences can exist without it being an evil conspiracy.

[concretejungle-forum]

T'es à la recherche d'un forum où te poser pour bien commencer l'année 2024 ? T'as besoin d'un endroit où passer l'hiver, loin de la vague de froid qui arrive ? Tu ne sais pas où t'installer parce que tous les forums sont écrit en "font-size: 8px;" ? T'as envie de jouer mais t'as une vie et pas l'temps pour qu'on te foute la pression avec un rpg où deux jours d'absence font que tu ne comprends plus rien ? Ne cherche plus, on est là pour toi 👌

CONCRETE JUNGLE est un city sombre situé à Londres et actif depuis l'automne 2023. Centré sur les activités illégales et la vie nocturne, le forum offre cependant plein d'autres possibilités. Que tu veuilles mêler ton personnage à des affaires peu recommandables ou que tu préfères un personnage goût vanille perdu au milieu de la ville, il y a de la place pour toi. Si nous avons un rating +18, ce n'est pas pour du contenu 🌶️ mais juste parce qu'en tant qu'adultes, nous préférons ne pas jour des thèmes 'dark' avec des mineurs·es.

Avant tout, CJ c'est surtout une petite communauté chill et respectueuse où tout le monde peut s'intégrer, que tu sois là avec un prélien, un inventé, en venant seul·e ou avec des potes, timide ou hypersocial·e, très actif·ve ou juste présent·e les week-ends. Il suffit juste d'essayer et hop, on peut y trouver chaussure à son pied / un endroit où s'poser.

Avec un rp/mois demandé et la possibilité de skip les recensements en faisant un coucou au staff parce que le mois est chargé, CONCRETE JUNGLE est centré sur le plaisir de rp. NB : nous avons un serveur Discord mais il n'est pas central à l'intégration, en plus d'être dénué de drama quel qu'il soit 🔥 Si tu veux en savoir plus, tu peux également lire notre ethos qui est la ligne conductrice pour l'ambiance sur le forum ainsi que l'engagement du staff envers les membres. A très bientôt on espère 🫶

[seekers-who-are-lovers]

Pretty in pink: Kazuki K & subversion (an homage)

Note: For Kazukiweek 2023: Acceptance

Pink is fresh. It is a happy color. It is positive. It is a sign of good health. That says a lot about Kazuki Kurusu. He has a bubbly personality, his optimism is brimming, especially after the seventh episode. It sure helps that Rei and Miri have become his ethos, have accepted to welcome the changes after five years of losing Yuzu. Usually, he wears his emotions on his sleeve. (But I think that’s only a front.) I love him. Right to the 11th episode, he has totally embraced the new life he’s been leading with Rei and Miri. The fact that he wanted it all along but was apprehensive because of his traumatic experiences made him cautious of the way he dealt with Rei and Miri. Rei’s determination on the second balcony scene was the catalyst because he knew how much K wanted it.

That fond looks K gives toward his family.

In the West, we are past that era where men cannot subvert pink’s gendered stereotype. You see men wear pink dress shirts, pink suits and other piece of clothing and they look spectacularly good. It is still a test of bravery for some though. Small boys still despise this color perceiving it as a girly stuff. New mothers try to veer their daughters away from this color by consciously not purchasing and introducing pink-coloured merchandise to their daughters’ color palette only to be disappointed because of peer pressure in the kindergartens. You know Elsa and Anna and the beautiful ladies of Disney and their association with pink? Too common, too banal.

However, “in contemporary Japanese culture, says (Barbara) Nemitz, pink is perceived as a masculine and mournful color that represents ‘young warriors who fall in battle while in the full bloom of life.’” Slain young samurai. All right. (Thanks to PA Works, it didn’t come to that though.)

It is also the color of sakura, cherry blossoms, which are the Japanese’s favourite flower. They do picnics just enjoying and gazing at the beauty of cherry blossoms (and later, peach blossoms). The Hanami. Some Japanese migrants adapted this ritual/event to their host countries and it is a sight to behold.

Different shades/nuances of pink worn by K and the moms

Pink has long been associated with homosexuality. The pink triangle. The lgbtq movement reclaimed the former badge of shame used by the Nazis incorporating it into the pride flag later. Though almost 70 per cent of the Japanese society supports it, it still is a huge problem to come out.

While there are no legal implications, coming out remains taboo for many in Japan for fear of being ostracized. A survey of young LGBTQ people published last year found high levels of mental anguish, including suicidal thoughts. More than 90% said they couldn’t talk about their sexuality with their guardians. Very few people in national politics or the corporate world are openly gay, although homosexual themes and LGBTQ celebrities are a staple of television and other forms of entertainment.

“Buddy Daddies” is not marketed as BL, but the show makers can write whatever about their characters. Sometimes implying them without direct confirmation. It depends how the viewers interpret it.

But K also symbolizes subversion. K’s characterization nonetheless goes against of what is perceived to be the norm in the Japanese society. He is both a nurturer and a protector, though Rei certainly will take over this “protector/saviour” task without any question. From the looks of it, he’d do anything for K and Miri.

Rei always in front to gauge the danger

An odd man out, K does the household chores while he can carry an adult man without any problem. We have seen him does it more than twice already. He’s loud and conspicuous. In Japan, you must never stand out. (<< - Shogo’s videos are highly recommended to watch btw!) He (and Rei) (go) goes against the rules. They blur the gender stereotyping in all aspects of life.

The crew presented the scenarios as if they were a matter of fact, normal, without making fun or light of it. No further commentary. One can say that it is subversive in a sense they want the audience to become aware of their thoughts on adoption, new family dynamics, the bureaucratic hurdles of enrolling your children and better access to daycare centres/schools to the ever-present mothers who have to give up their jobs and dedicate their lives to their kids, etc.

(It was unfortunate that they didn’t follow it up with Misaki Unasaka.)

Why do I get this feeling that one way or another “Buddy Daddies” had been the show makers’ thinly veiled social commentary on their society?

Anyway, I will miss his winking. Either way, I can still rewatch it.

Many happy returns, K!

[cagetheelephantofficial]

WATCH THE NEW MUSIC VIDEO FOR “NEON PILL” NOW!!

DIRECTED & EDITED BY LORIS RUSSIER

NEON PILL CREDITS

Director & Editor: Loris Russier

Production Company: PRETTYBIRD

Executive Producer: Candice Dragonas

Producer: Autumn Maschi

Director of Photography: Andrea Gavazzi

Production Manager: Kayla Fantozzi

Production Coordinator: Natalie Ruffino

Commissioner: Nicholas Robespierre

1st AD:  Daniel Bennaiem

2nd AD: Kyler Wilson

1st AC: Richard Hilton

2nd AC: Maria Valetta

Cam PA: Sam Trad

Steadicam: Larkin McLaughlin

Gaffer: Barrett Depies

BBE: Sterling Simms

Electric: Christian Vargas, Michelob Fudesenko

Key Grip: Justin Sulham

BBG: Jim Gordon

3rd Grip: Henry Carey

Grip Driver: Christian Vargas

Productions Designer: Jenna Winn

Lead set dresser: Dillion Frazier

Set Dresser: Rashelle Felix

Set Dresser: Zach Palica

Stunt Coordinator: William Leaman

Fire specialist: Alex Smith

Stunt Performer: Jeron Bray

Stunt Performer: Mary Booth

Fire Safety: Myke Schwartz, Chad Joyce, Frank Blake

Pyro Tech: Robert Duke

Casting Director: Tina kerr

Cage the Elephant Stylist: Santa Versace-Bevacqua

Cast Stylist: Jessica Sheehan

Stylist Assistant: Zoey Zimbicki

Groomer: Ryin Overton

HMU: Melissa Olshavsky

Location scout: Donald Butler

Medic: Kirstin Broc-Reyes

Colorist: Dante Giani

Color house: Ethos studio

Post production: FORMS

VFX Supervisor: Sébastien Nebout

VFX artist: Mélanie geley

Sound design: Loris Russier

[beardedmrbean]

Something unprecedented is happening this weekend in Paris, brought about by the war between Israel and Hamas and its spill-over in Europe.

For the first time ever, a major demonstration being attended by representatives of the major political parties includes the far right - but not the far left.

On Sunday afternoon thousands of people heeded a call from the Speakers of the two houses of parliament to show their support for French "Republican" values and their rejection of antisemitism - this in the face of a steep rise in antisemitic actions since 7 October.

Among the first to announce their presence were Marine Le Pen, three-time presidential candidate for the National Rally (formerly the National Front), and the party's young president, Jordan Bardella.

Almost simultaneously came a rejoinder from their counterpart on the far left, Jean-Luc Mélenchon, irascible leader of France Unbowed (LFI). His party would not be attending, he tweeted, because the march was a "rendezvous for unconditional supporters of the massacre [of Gazans]".

It is hard to overestimate the symbolic significance of this switch-over.

For decades French politics erected a bulwark against the far right, whose views - not least on Jews - were deemed "anti-Republican". The old National Front under Marine's father Jean-Marie Le Pen was seen as beyond the pale, and it was shunned.

The far left meanwhile - the Communists, the Trotskyists and the new formations like Mr Mélenchon's LFI - were certainly attacked for their views, but they were never excluded. They were part of the broad political family, in a way that the Le Pen franchise clearly wasn't.

A few years ago, for a far-left party not to have been part of a march against antisemitism would have been unthinkable. For a far-right party to have been there instead would have been unconscionable.

Such is the shake-up in the political order, which of course long predates the Gaza war and is mirrored in varying ways across other European countries.

Macron condemns rising antisemitism and Israeli bombing of civilians

Today's far right, rebranded "hard right" or "national right" has - in France at least - forgotten its obsession with Jews and its claims of a "Jewish lobby". Its primary focus now is the three I's - immigration, insecurity and Islamism - issues on which it finds common cause with many Jews.

Meanwhile the far left in France, analysing Gaza through the anti-colonial lens, sees an oppressed people hammered by a superpower proxy and shouts "Solidarity!" Having lost the support of the old working class, many of whom vote National Rally, it has a new natural base among politicised immigrants.

Thus we arrive at the novel situation where a party whose founder once called the Holocaust a "detail of history" openly embraces the cause of French Jews; and at the other end of the spectrum, a party built on ideas of human rights and equality stands accused of antisemitism for failing to call Hamas "terrorist".

Maybe this should all be nuanced. After all, many people still think that at heart the far right, by virtue of its French-first ethos, cannot help but be anti-Jewish. They note that Jordan Bardella this week refused to explicitly call Jean-Marie Le Pen antisemitic - a faux-pas to which enemies of the National Rally (RN) have reacted with glee.

And on the far left there are signs of division around Jean-Luc Mélenchon, whose prickly personality and autocratic methods are driving some colleagues to exasperation. This week one senior lieutenant, Raquel Garrido, was given a four-month suspension as party spokeswoman for challenging the leader's line - not least on Hamas.

But the fundamental point remains: the RN under Marine Le Pen is manoeuvring itself very successfully into the mainstream, while Mr Mélenchon's LFI is manoeuvring itself out.

Opinion polls bear it out: according to IFOP last week, Marine Le Pen would trounce the opposition in the first round of a presidential election today, with up to 33% of the vote. Mr Mélenchon, at 22% in the 2022 election, is down to 14%.

This week one of the historic figures in the fight against antisemitism in France gave his views on these ironies of history and politics.

Serge Klarsfeld and his wife Beate helped bring Nazi war criminals to justice, and documented the deportations and deaths of 80,000 Jews from France exterminated in the Holocaust.

Speaking to Le Figaro newspaper, Mr Klarsfeld, now 88, said: "For me the DNA of the far right is antisemitism. So when I see a big party of the far right abandon antisemitism and negationism and move towards our Republican values, naturally I rejoice."

"The far left for its part has always had its own antisemitic tradition. So just as I am relieved to see the RN… take a stand for Jews, so I am sad to see the far left abandon its actions to combat antisemitism."

[thevindicativevordan]

Comics this week? (Specially The Ultimates #4)

Anonymous asked: Comics this week ?

My Adventures With Superman #4 - I know the DCAU JLU Christmas episode is popular, but I've always been put off by it. I can't help seeing an air of condescension in how it treats Superman being a grown man who still believes in Santa, I get a "yes he's dumb and gullible, but isn't that wholesome?" takeaway from it all. Meanwhile I loved how Josie Campbell explored celebrating Christmas here as an expression of love and family. Ma and Pa adopted Clark as their son even though he wasn't blood, then the comic expands that to touch on how Lois and Jimmy have become "family" too. Even extends it right up to Amazo getting treated by Clark as a brother in a touching moment where Superman willingly shares his powers with Amazo so they both can kick Bloodsport and Deathstroke's asses, and Amazo tells Clark he thinks of Clark as family also. It's all very sweet right up until Deathstroke blows a hole in Amazo at the end. Bloodsport is the coolest he has ever been here, when he brings out the big guns I was hooting and hollering. I think this might be my favorite take on Amazo now too. I dug his DCAU incarnation but this is the first time I'm really invested in him as a character, and there's tension because he might not make it out alive.

Absolute Power #3 - Waid is trying to weave together the disparate threads of the past year into a cohesive whole, while simultaneously trying to shuffle the detritus of the past year off the board. End result is a mess of stitched together moments that don't work imo. Example of that is Nightwing "stepping up" as a leader, yet his push feeling hollow when his team failed to take the League's place. A number of other characters like Barda and Mid-Nite get written out of character so that Dick as the avatar of the Silver Age ethos can prove them wrong. Oh and if I have to read another issue of Waid going HEART is our REAL superpower, I think my eyes might be permanently stuck in a cycle of rolling.

Ultimates #4 - Ultimates #4 reminded me of reading Ruins. Exceptionally bleak from beginning to end, poor 6160 Reed. It avoids being nihilistic at least because there is a malicious bad actor in Maker who is making sure that everything turns out as bad as it possibly can, rather than it simply being the nature of the world. Sets up an Ultimate F4 book for sure, but given how Doom is outright skirting the edge of villainy with how he ominously says he’s adhering to Tony’s moral rules for now, I’m wondering if he won’t actually be a part of the team. Maybe he’s the one who gets captured and Tony creates an Ultimate F4 of entirely new people to go save him? Otherwise I see their failure to beat Hulk being the point at which Doom bails on the Ultimates team. I’d prefer Doom be part of the Ultimate F4 though, he’s simply too interesting as a Reed who is massively messed up but is trying to be a hero. If they do end up making him a villain that would be an utter waste of potential. Maker is already the broken Reed, Doom needs to be the Reed who is bent but not broken. Seeing him walk the tightrope is more interesting than seeing him fall off.

[cactusringed]

Et si je faisait des headcanon mcyt français. Bon tu dirais OK etho serait québécois mais non pour moi ses vibes sont plus belges.... Et du coup bdubs peux se moquer de lui pour dire "septantes" et autres lol. Malheureusement je conçoit que bdubs soit un sudiste, je peux pas le voir autre part, et ça fait mal à mon petit cœur de ch'nord. Il dirait chocolatine pour sûr... L'hérésie.... Au moins Joel serait un bon ch'ti pour sûr ptdr.

[ao3-ghost]

Misconception: You must tag everything you can!

The information that AO3 requires to post a new work is:

Title

Rating

Fandom

Archive Warnings

Language

Beyond those elements, a person is free to include as little or as much information as they want. Largely, AO3's ethos seems to be enable creators as much freedom as possible on how they want to label their own works.

To facilitate those goals, the site even offers "reader beware" options for many of these elements. Ratings has "Not Rated". Fandom tags have "Unspecified Fandom". Warnings has "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings". Using any or all of these options on a work is both valid and intended use of the site.

There has been a recent trend in fandom to include potential squicks or triggers in the additional tags, since more tags increases readers ability to exclude unwanted works as well as increases the search-ability/find-ability of a specific work. Alongside this trend, I've noticed the perspective that choosing to be information-lite is rude or site abuse. It may be the norm in some fandom communities, committing a social faux pas is not the same as breaking a site rule. AO3 encourages people to tag according to their personal preference.

This expectation is is heavily fandom and person dependent. There's plenty of good reasons to opt-out of including extra information. Sometimes that good reason is 'if I stare at the posting page any longer I won't share the fic at all'.

[aurevoirmonty]

Concernant le besoin de prier, l'anarque ne diffère en rien de tout autre. Mais il n'aime pas s'attacher. Il ne dilapide pas ses meilleures énergies. Il n'accepte aucun substitut à son or. Il connaît sa liberté, et aussi ce qu'elle vaut. L'équation s'équilibre lorsqu'on lui offre quelque chose de crédible. Le résultat est UN.

Il ne fait aucun doute que des dieux sont apparus, non seulement dans les temps anciens mais même tard dans l'histoire ; ils ont festoyé avec nous et combattu à nos côtés. Mais à quoi sert la splendeur des banquets passés pour un homme affamé ? À quoi sert le tintement de l'or qu'un pauvre entend à travers le mur du temps ? Les dieux doivent être appelés.

L'anarque laisse tout cela être ; il peut attendre son heure. Il a son ethos, mais pas de morale. Il reconnaît la légitimité, mais pas la loi ; il méprise les règles. Chaque fois que l'ethos se transforme en impératifs, il est déjà corrompu. Néanmoins, il peut s'harmoniser avec eux, selon l'endroit et les circonstances, brièvement ou longuement, tout comme je m'harmonise ici avec le tyran aussi longtemps que cela me plaît.

Ernst Jünger, Eumeswil