#sing as we go

[pratchettquotes]

"It'll all end in trouble, my lord," said Ridcully. He'd found it a good general comment in practically any debate. Besides, it was so often true.

Lord Vetinari sighed. "In my experience, practically everything does," he said. "That is the nature of things. All we can do is sing as we go."

Terry Pratchett, The Truth

[inkskinned]

so one of the things that's so horrifying about birth control is that you have to, like, navigate this incredibly personal choice about your body and yet also face the epitome of misogyny. like, someone in the comments will say it wasn't that bad for me, and you'll be utterly silenced. like, everyone treats birth control like something that's super dirty. like, you have no fucking information or control over this thing because certain powerful people find it icky.

first it was the oral contraceptives. you went on those young, mostly for reasons unrelated to birth control - even your dermatologist suggested them to control your acne. the list of side effects was longer than your arm, and you just stared at it, horrified.

it made you so mentally ill, but you just heard that this was adulthood. that, yes, there are of course side effects, what did you expect. one day you looked up yasmin makes me depressed because surely this was far too intense, and you discovered that over 12,000 lawsuits had been successfully filed against the brand. it remains commonly prescribed on the open market. you switched brands a few times before oral contraceptives stopped being in any way effective. your doctor just, like, shrugged and said you could try a different brand again.

and the thing is that you're a feminist. you know from your own experience that birth control can be lifesaving, and that even when used for birth control - it is necessary healthcare. you have seen it save so many people from such bad situations, yourself included. it is critical that any person has access to birth control, and you would never suggest that we just get rid of all of it.

you were a little skeeved out by the implant (heard too many bad stories about it) and figured - okay, iud. it was some of the worst pain you've ever fucking experienced, and you did it with a small number of tylenol in your system (3), like you were getting your bikini line waxed instead of something practically sewn into your body.

and what's wild is that because sometimes it isn't a painful insertion process, it is vanishingly rare to find a doctor that will actually numb the area. while your doctor was talking to you about which brand to choose, you were thinking about the other ways you've been injured in your life. you thought about how you had a suspicious mole frozen off - something so small and easy - and how they'd numbed a huge area. you thought about when you broke your wrist and didn't actually notice, because you'd thought it was a sprain.

your understanding of pain is that how the human body responds to injury doesn't always relate to the actual pain tolerance of the person - it's more about how lucky that person is physically. maybe they broke it in a perfect way. maybe they happened to get hurt in a place without a lot of nerve endings. some people can handle a broken femur but crumble under a sore tooth. there's no true way to predict how "much" something actually hurts.

in no other situation would it be appropriate for doctors to ignore pain. just because someone can break their wrist and not feel it doesn't mean no one should receive pain meds for a broken wrist. it just means that particular person was lucky about it. it should not define treatment.

in the comments of videos about IUDs, literally thousands of people report agony. blinding, nauseating, soul-crushing agony. they say things like i had 2 kids and this was the worst thing i ever experienced or i literally have a tattoo on my ribs and it felt like a tickle. this thing almost killed me or would rather run into traffic than ever feel that again.

so it's either true that every single person who reports severe pain is exaggerating. or it's true that it's far more likely you will experience pain, rather than "just a pinch." and yet - there's nothing fucking been done about it. it kind of feels like a shrug is layered on top of everything - since technically it's elective, isn't it kind of your fault for agreeing to select it? stop being fearmongering. stop being defensive.

you fucking needed yours. you are almost weirdly protective of it. yours was so important for your physical and mental health. it helped you off hormonal birth control and even started helping some of your symptoms. it still fucking hurt for no fucking reason.

once while recovering from surgery, they offered you like 15 days of vicodin. you only took 2 of them. you've been offered oxy for tonsillitis. you turned down opioids while recovering from your wisdom tooth extraction. everything else has the option. you fucking drove yourself home after it, shocked and quietly weeping, feeling like something very bad had just happened. the nurse that held your hand during the experience looked down at you, tears in her eyes, and said - i know. this is cruelty in action.

and it's fucked up because the conversation is never just "hey, so the way we are doing this is fucking barbaric and doctors should be required to offer serious pain meds" - it's usually something around the lines of "well, it didn't kill you, did it?"

you just found out that removing that little bitch will hurt just as bad. a little pinch like how oral contraceptives have "some" serious symptoms. like your life and pain are expendable or not really important. like maybe we are all hysterical about it?

hysteria comes from the latin word for uterus, which is great!

you stand here at a crossroads. like - this thing is so important. did they really have to make it so fucking dangerous. and why is it that if you make a complaint, you're told - i didn't even want you to have this in the first place. we're told be careful what you wish for. we're told that it's our fault for wanting something so illict; we could simply choose not to need medication. that maybe if we don't like the scraps, we should get ready to starve.

we have been saying for so long - "i'm not asking you to remove the option, i'm asking you to reconsider the risk." this entire time we hear: well, this is what you wanted, isn't it?

[egophiliac]

I got a really tough question.

What’s your favorite Twst event of ALL TIME?

I like Harveston

this truly is the hardest question. :( but after much consideration, I think Endless Halloween Night wins out for me, because it's nonstop Characters Being Silly the whole way through. the whole thing is just lots of these little dorks having the most ridiculous interactions, which is always my favorite! and of course the big twist is SO delightfully stupid and doubles down SO hard that it becomes AMAZING and I 100% unironically adore it. AND it's Halloween! everyone is in their cute little costumes and having a spooky adventure! it's great!

however, I am ALSO a big fan of the Harveston event! how can I not be! everyone is wearing comfy winter outfits and getting along really weirdly well with Epel's grandma and he's getting a little worried about that! my terrible loud son sews a plush squirrel and then gives it a silly little nickname and refuses to leave it behind when it breaks! the ending shot with the sled! I LOVE IT.

obviously we need the best of both worlds now

[aydracz]

South Downs Happy Husbands

@idkchatie

(More pics below)

Buzzing to share these with you! While on our trip to London to see Nye (which was phenomenal and so was meeting Michael afterwards!), @0xlilith and I made a day trip to the South Downs to see where the ineffable husbands will spend their retirement.

We were blown away (figuratively and literally) by the South Downs! And then the time came to take out some amazing fanart and take photos of what Crowley and Aziraphale might be up to in the future.

Couldn't find the creator - please help, so I can credit them

@blairamok

@lizulimu on X

@numbuh424

Couldn't find the creator - please help, so I can credit them

Couldn't find the creator - please help, so I can credit them

@tio-trile

@kidovna

Bonus - @0xlilith and I, the rational adults that we are, decided to draw magician moustaches, print out the first photo and go to the National Theatre again to show it to Michael Sheen. Sadly, he didn't do stage door that night. But we met many wonderful people in the queue so it was a great evening nonetheless!

We had a blast doing this and many new headcanons came out of this trip. For example:

Crowley shouts at all the rabbits because they are eating his garden produce. Until he notices there are also little bunnies and he simply cannot shout at those. He ends up dedicating part of his garden to the rabbits. Aziraphale finds this endearing.

While on their walks on the cliffs, Crowley picks up snails.

Crowley makes up random stories about the local lore and tells them to the tourists. Aziraphale puts and end to this when the stories gradually become more and more unhinged.

Aziraphale takes up bird watching.

Crowley makes fun of it at first but then he also takes up bird watching.

Aziraphale and Crowley start competing in bird watching.

Aziraphale doesn't believe Crowley saw the birds he claims he did.

Crowley is adamant he really saw the yellow-breasted tit.

Aziraphale calls Crowley a yellow-breasted tit.

Etc etc.

Hope you enjoy these as much as we enjoyed making them!

And if you are in London right now, some are actually glued to the benches around the Bandstand in Battersea Park. Check out my previous post to get the details!

[payasita]

ain't nothin this puppet can't do!

[petr1kov]

whoever said that disco elysium is a game about many things but, most of all, a game about not killing yourself. i think about it

[namari-hime-moved]

assorted vocaloid textpost edits

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 18

PREVIOUS

Weirdly enough the only thing that FF can think of as they head down the stairs is the first Saw movie.

That one happened IN a bathroom right? He kind of watched all of them in a row to prepare himself for whatever Andrew might decide to do to him. But he’s near positive that one happened in a bathroom. It was derelict and he didn’t think it really had running water (or did it? Didn’t the guy wake up in a half-full tub? His memory is hazy in his bathroom related desperation and may be trying to protect him from thinking about water).

All leading to the main thought going through his head as he slowly headed down the narrow stairway to his death.

Would Andrew let him use the facilities before he’s handcuffed to a pipe?

The worst part about all of this is that he is not sure if he needs to take a dump or if he just needs to fart, he knows he has to take a piss. He’s read that when you die your body will relax and it’ll all just flow out of you and Nicky gave him these pants so he feels bad but he also does not want to face his death without pants. If he needs to take a shit then they’re definitely going to be absolutely ruined, if it’s a fart well…Andrew can’t kill him any further? He can mutilate his corpse a little but FF won’t be around to experience it.

No matter what he’s definitely going to piss himself. He had way too much water at Sweeties trying to consume the spicy ice cream.

You may be wondering why FF has not run away from his predicament and is walking down these steps without protest or comment or plea for his life.

First of all he is pretty sure that if he makes any sudden movements he will ruin these pants that Nicky bought for him. Second of all Andrew had already told him once that he wouldn’t accept any pleading for mercy he still remembers how he asked Andrew, “Please give me back my pen?” and Andrew had shot him a look that had his stomach cramp and his fingers itch for the bottle sweet pink relief in his backpack.

“I don’t like that word, don’t use it around me.” He said.

FF ever the pragmatic sort, “Which one?” He had asked because he had said a few, “I don’t want there to be a misunderstanding.” He followed up with when Andrew glowered at him only for the glare’s intensity to increase 10 fold.

“Don’t use the first word of your first statement or the last word of your second.” Andrew grit out and got up to leave without a word.

Message received loud and clear Andrew did NOT like words ‘Please’ or ‘Misunderstanding’.

So FF knows that any pleading for mercy would ABSOLUTELY result in Andrew not letting him take a bathroom break before him and Captain Neil make destroying him into a couple activity. The fact that Captain Neil is here is a bit of a shock but maybe Captain Neil has finally gotten the other Freshman Dealer up to snuff.

Maybe Kevin really did want to dissect him to figure out how Strikers keep passing straight to him?

They reach the door at the bottom of the stairs.

Ah, time to face the music.

At least he’d texted Gran that he was going to die when they had gotten into the club and the bathroom had not made itself readily apparent. Sure it was about his current ‘gotta piss / gotta shit’ situation but he’d been wise to keep his cause of death vague in that text.

The door opens and…

This is the NICEST torture chamber FF has EVER seen. (And after his desperation watch of all the Saw movies he has seen quite a FEW)

“Minyard, Josten, and Guest. Table 6 is yours.” A voice comes from the side and when he looks over there’s a man in quite a nice uniform standing behind a soft-lit bar polishing a glass looking every bit like a bar tender at those high-end places you see in movies. He looks around a bit more and there are some other people down here. It’s not quiet per se but it is a comfortable level of noise in comparison to the IQ dropping noise upstairs.

“C’mon Smith.” Andrew juts his chin towards a table in the back.

FF follows but continues to try and fit this nice little room into his world view.

Do these people watch other people get tortured to death for fun on a Friday night? Unlikely considering the upholstery on the booths and chairs looked like it’d stain if blood got on it. Was this perhaps a trafficking location where Andrew would sell off his organs to the highest bidder? He looked at the other patrons who seemed a bit higher class than the general club scene upstairs but not like they had the money to buy one of his kidneys. Maybe-

“Do not tell Nicky about this place, ever.” Andrew says as they slide into the booth. FF nods but can’t help but tilt his head slightly in an unspoken question, “He would absolutely tell any and everyone about it. Eden’s wants to keep this place a secret from the general public.” Andrew explains.

“Nicky currently thinks that there’s a straight swingers club down here.” Captain Neil says with a huff of laughter.

“Eden’s is cool, even though there’s some sick shit in the basement.” Floats through his head again.

What the fuck was a swinger?

His fingers itch for his phone but he’s currently talking with Andrew and Captain Neil so that’d be rude but they’re talking to him like he absolutely knows what a swinger is and he DOES NOT.

“It’s quieter down here. Figured you’d prefer it.” Andrew says as he gets up and heads towards the bar down here where the bartender was aggressively cutting ice chunks.

He and Captain Neil sit in silence for a few seconds before Captain Neil offers him a slight smile, “I know you’d rather be with your grandma and you and Andrew prefer not to say things out loud but we’ve really liked hanging out with you.” Captain Neil says.

????????????????????????????????????????????????

That’s such a nice thing to say to someone.

Especially someone like FF.

Especially especially when they’re planning on killing him?

He hopes his confusion stays off his face as he nods once. “It’s been fun.” It’s not even really a lie. Thanksgiving yesterday had been nice and loud and FF had missed the chaos of a Family Dinner more than he had ever realized. The car ride had been…a time but once he’d asked Andrew to either keep his eyes on the road or let him out Andrew’s hands had stayed at 10 and 2 and the ride had been smooth. Aaron and Nicky’s weight against him had been nice too, a warm memory before he developed a possible life long aversion to whipped cream. He’d gotten to go Black Friday shopping and Captain Neil even helped carry it home for him. Baking bad been nice even if the stress of doing it with his life on the line was less so. The subsequent nap and day spent doing normal college guy things had been…it’d all been nice.

It’s starting to feel like….

“Drink this.” Andrew puts a drink down in front of him.

No Andrew definitely wants his bladder to burst.

“What is it?” He asks instead looking at the creamy looking drink with suspicion.

Andrew rolls his eyes as he hands Neil a fruity looking drink as he sits with what is a few fingers of scotch. “It’s virgin.” Andrew says not answering the question at all and must pick up that FF won’t be drinking it until he gets the full answer because he continues after a moment, “It’s like a Pina Colada but with bananas instead.” Andrew answers.

It’s not that FF hates banana but why in the world would Andrew grab him this? Was it just one of the few virgins options on this place’s fancy menu or-

“Bananas will help get your stomach acid back down.” Andrew says, “Since you’re an idiot and ate that mango ice cream just because you wanted to impress that girl.” He rolls his eyes.

“Impress that girl?” There weren’t any girls at the table and how in the world would him eating that god-forsaken spicy ice cream impress anyone other than Betsy. Even Betsy would only be impressed by the depths he was willing to reach just to avoid what he perceives as an awkward social situation.

“The waitress.” Neil reminds him as if that cleared anything up.

“Yeah,” he says as if he has understood the conversation but he has not. “It was spicy mango.” He says because maybe if he keeps the conversation going he’ll get enough context clues to understand what might be his last conversation.

Andrew let out a huff of laughter and pushed FF’s drink closer to him, “Drink your fancy Banana smoothie Casanova.” He says.

No closer to understanding the conversation he accepts that it might be something that only becomes clear after he sheds his mortal coil and is no longer given a -10 INT debuff by his full bladder and revolting stomach.

He takes a sip.

Oh that’s actually pretty good.

It feels like he can feel it sizzling in his stomach and soothing the discomfort there. Maybe he should look into Banana smoothies as a replacement for what Abby has called a ‘concerning co-dependence’ in regards to Pepto Bismol. No one can put him on a medical watch if it’s just banana smoothies he’s chugging down like they’re going out of style.

“Thanks,” he says, “that was good.” He admits before reaching into his jacket and moving past the Megamind toy and grabbing his wallet. “What do I owe you for that?” He asks.

“We’re even.” Andrew waves away the money.

“You bought the stuff for breakfast, those brownies, and the pie tomorrow.” Neil says and FF blinks surprised to hear that they were talking about the pie he didn’t think he was going to get the chance to make.

“You don’t need to buy a spot with us.” Andrew says and FF leans back slightly at the intensity on Andrew’s face as he says it. “I invited you here because I wanted to. The brownies were good but if you don’t feel like making the pie tomorrow? It’s not like I’m going to drive you back to Palmetto and leave you on Abby’s doorstep.” He says.

FF feels gears start to turn in his head.

“It’s good pie.” He hears himself say.

“I didn’t even know about the pie when I invited you.” Andrew says and…

Andrew and FF sit in silence but honestly it’s not like Andrew’s sharpening his knives. The two of them mostly just do their own work or read. FF has been getting his German literacy up to snuff so that he can read the language when he goes there to visit Nicky’s fiance next year. He likes how serious Andrew is about learning it so that he doesn’t have to ask Captain Neil a thousand questions and it’d be nice if Andrew wasn’t obviously planning on murdering him.

Andrew brings dried apples and sends Captain Neil along with probiotic yogurts to their meetings. Both of those things tend to soothe his stomach and the yogurt that had been unflavored before was now vanilla which he liked a fair bit. It would have been a really nice gesture if it wasn’t for the fact that Andrew was making fun of his tummy troubles.

Andrew will put his foot down in practice sometimes when Kevin is getting too demanding wanting to know exactly how FF intercepted his passes to Neil. Kevin always backs off and Andrew will do the same when Jack starts to get a little too personal in his attacks at FF or when Sheena decides she’s going to be a bitch. It’d be nice if it wasn’t Andrew staking his claim that he was the one who was going to make FF’s life miserable.

Andrew drove FF around for an hour after Greg had shown up. He found out later from one of his friends that Andrew had threatened Greg after he had power walked away into the building. Andrew had driven him around and had only started heading towards the tower when FF had relaxed. It would have been nice if Andrew wasn’t trying to lure him into a false sense of security.

Andrew had invited him to his Family’s house over Thanksgiving when the bad storm had ruined his Thanksgiving plans. Andrew had threatened Jack to stop him from eating his Grandma’s pie and complaining about it. Andrew had stopped messing around with Captain Neil when FF had made it clear he was uncomfortable being in a car where the driver wasn’t paying attention to the road. Andrew had twice made him go to bed in the last couple hours.

It’d be nice if…

“We’ve really liked hanging out with you” Captain Neil had said.

Andrew was just trying to be nice.

Embarrassment rolls over him like a wave but FF has many years of pretending like he’s not going to die from embarrassment, “Thanks for inviting me. I’ll still probably make the pie tomorrow.” He offers.

Andrew’s eyes change slightly and FF is under the impression that he’s happy to hear that.

“Just enjoy your drink Smith.” Andrew says.

FF does go back to sipping his drink and letting more and more memories of things Andrew had done come to him and lets his embarrassment grow.

He finishes his drink and only then realizes that he is a code red in terms of bladder capacity. The new knowledge that this is not a torture chamber but in fact yet another overture of friendship from Andrew paired with his desperation finally loosens the question from his mouth, “Where’s the bathroom here?” He asks.

“There isn’t one downstairs but just head up stairs and hug the wall to the left.” Captain Neil answers.

“Bring your phone. If Frank doesn’t recognize you to let you back in.” Andrew reminds him.

FF nods and heads out of the club and up the stairs.

He might be doing a bit of a potty dance so he forces himself to become unnoticeable because he does not need cool people at a cool club to see him about to piss himself. Once he enters into a stealth mode that the United States Military would like to talk to him about he hugs the wall and nearly cries tears of relief when he sees a door labelled MEN.

He doesn’t think about the possibility of letting up on stealth mode because he is sure that he is about to make a face that he does NOT want any human being to see when he unzips his pants and starts to take the world’s most life-affirming piss on the planet.

As his bladder empties his brain is able to process the understanding that he had come to down in the basement he had thought would be his final resting place.

Andrew has been trying to be nice (and succeeding it was all so nice! He feels like an asshole! He is an asshole! Gran always told him that assuming makes an Ass out of U and Me. He had just thought it was funny grandma humor not valuable life advice!)

The night wasn’t going to end with Andrew’s knife in his stomach, it was probably just going to end with Nicky puking on his shoes (which is fine because these are the shoes Nicky was letting him borrow for the club anyways, they’re his shoes to puke onto.)

A secondary relief fills his system. His stomach, soothed by the Banana smoothie and now this, feels like it might actually let him live through the night.

While FF was distracted with a piss that would have made any number of cult leaders jealous with the number of divine revelations he was experiencing he failed to notice a second man enter the bathroom.

There was a reason that FF always ALWAYS became noticeable when he was at a urinal and the man who came to the urinal right next to him was showcasing that VERY reason.

He was trapped here for at least ten more seconds and he could hear the man grumbling distractedly but didn’t really pay it too much attention until…

“Fucking Wesninski Brat.” He grumbled under his breath.

Oh god dammit.

NEXT

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

Per your requests:

@i-have-three-feelings @blep-23 @dreamerking27 @andreilsmyreligion @belodensetdust @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world @obscureshipsandchips @booklover242 @whataboutmyfries @sahturnos @pluto-pepsi @dreamerthinker @passinhosdetartaruga @leftunknownheart @aro-manita-muscaria @hologramsaredead @Chaoticgremlinswishtheycouldbeme @tntwme @tayspots @nick-scar @crazy-fangirl2524 @blue-jos10 @stabbyfoxandrew @splishsplashyouropinionistrash @sammichly @the-broken-pen @bitchesdoweknowu @very-small-flower @ghostlyboiii @its-a-paxycab @bisexual-genderfluid-fan @cheesecookie @theoneandonlylostsock @foxsoulcourt @blueleys @adverbialstarlight @elia-nna @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner @nikodiangel @foxandcrow-inatrenchcoat @hallucinatedjosten @satanic-foxhole-court @vexingcosmos @chalilodimun @insectsgetcooked @angry-kid-with-no-money @queer-crows @lillyndra @themugglemudperson @readertodeath @apileofpillows @mortalsbowbeforeme @hellomynameismoo @next-level-mess @youreonlylow @interstellarfig @notprocrastinatingatalltoday @percyjacksonfan3 @queenofcrazy27 @bsmr261 @ghostlyscares @spencellio @adinthedarkroom @harpymoth @sufferingjustalilbit @anxietymoss @oddgreyhound @ohno-myhyperfixation-itsbroken @ken22789 @atiredvampire @isoldescorner @not--a--pipedream @azure-wing​ @bushbees​  @roonilwazlib-main​ @crumplelush​ @foldedaces-paperbirds​ @thesenseinnonsense​ @let-tyrants-fear​

[potentialheartofdarkness]

Eddie heard Steve singing completely on accident. He’d been sitting up in bed, the bed Steve so graciously let him stay in after they got too high to go anywhere, waiting for Steve to shower when he heard it.

The angelic voice he’d never once heard before from Steve of all people.

Now don’t get him wrong, Eddie was and had been for a while; head over heels in love with Steve. They’d become friends after Vecna, bonded by trauma or whatever Dustin kept calling it, and had slowly developed into this weird in between stage. Eddie was trying not to overdo it and scare Steve away, and it seemed like Steve was doing the same. Every tiny roll of Steve’s eyes as he ducked his head to hide a smile or blush at Eddie’s words, felt like a huge win.

He’d seen a lot of Steve lately, learnt a lot about him. They dropped any pretence of sleeping in separate rooms after the nightmares, waking in a pile of tangled limbs and hurriedly pulling apart with muttered apologies. They didn’t address the fact that their apologies felt hollow. He’d learnt that Steve wasn’t sure what his favourites of anything was, always forced to go with the flow of his friends. He’d recently discovered some music he enjoyed and who was Eddie to deny the sparkling eyes of Steve begging him to listen to it with him. He was good with the kids, listening intently and keeping note of their current interests. He’d joined a few hellfire nights, drawing their characters for them. He’d discovered he had a real talent for that and Eddie had to see more of it. He convinced Steve to help draw characters and enemies for dnd nights, and design posters for Corroded Coffin gigs. He’d help Steve along, find some things he liked and helped him explore who he was as a person. Robin did too, the pair of them endlessly recommending things for him to try. Things for him to wear, possible hobbies he could do like baking and even crocheting.

Steve loved it.

But Eddie had never heard him sing before. Not until now. His voice was good, he could keep a tune, he had some natural talent. Not too high, not too low, just scratchy enough to hit the singers sweet spot. Before he knew it he was on his feet and throwing open the bathroom door.

“Stop screaming, Stevie, it’s just me.” He said and Steve peaked his head around the curtain.

“Jesus Ed’s, scared the shit out of me.” His fear melted into mild annoyance and confusion. “Why are you here?”

“You didn’t tell me you can sing!” Eddie accused and Steve flushed, pulling his head back behind the curtain. Eddie heard him start rinsing his hair and immediately went red when he realized their position.

“I didn’t realize that warranted busting down the door when I’m mid shower.” Steve grumbled before he sighed, apparently finished with the water and he shut the tap off. “I’m stepping out.” He warned.

“Steve Harrington, fresh out of a shower and completely nude? My heart won’t stand the sight.” Eddie tried to go for flirtatious to hide his embarrassment but it didn’t quite hit. “I’ll wait outside.” He shut the door behind him. Less than a minute later Steve was opening the door, towel wrapped around his waist and hair still dripping wet. Eddie’s mouth went dry. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen Steve shirtless, what with the Lovers Lake incident and then countless days spent in his swimming pool during the summer. But it always left Eddie sort of breathless, words caught in his throat, heart pounding in his chest.

“Cat got your tongue?” Steve asked, smirk tugging at his lips, as Eddie realized he’d been staring a little too long to be subtle.

“You didn’t tell me you could sing! And I mean really sing, Stevie, like you’re good.” Eddie followed him back to the bedroom and Steve laughed lightly.

“Yeah, church choir and all that when I was little.” He replied, searching his drawers for some sweatpants and one of his yellow sweaters. “I don’t usually sing much anymore, my parents hated it and I didn’t have any songs I liked.” He shrugged and Eddie spun to face the wall when Steve started to drop his towel. He looked at the roof and prayed to any god that could hear him that his face wasn’t as red as it felt.

“Well I like it.” Eddie’s voice was quiet and with his back to Steve he didn’t see the way his hands fumbled the sweater before pulling it over his head. “And, it’s the perfect kind of voice for some background vocals we’re looking for.” Steve tapped him on the shoulder and he turned back around to face him.

“Background vocals?” Steve perched himself on the edge of his bed as Eddie started pacing, talking with his hands as he tried to explain.

“Okay so, we have this gig coming up and they’re going to let us record an album, like an actual professional album, and we need some background vocals on the tracks.” He stopped and pointed at Steve. “And you, sweet beautiful amazing you, Steve Harrington, have the best fucking vocals for the background track that I have been looking for for months!” Steve stared at him, his face was unreadable and Eddie felt a bit of anxiety pool in his stomach.

“You think I’m beautiful?” Steve asked, and Eddie groaned, running his fingers across his face.

“That’s not the point Steve, I’m asking if you’d do the background vocals.” Eddie took two steps forwards and poked Steve in the forehead and Steve swatted his hand away.

“No lets go back to that. You think I’m beautiful.” Eddie’s face went red and he looked away towards the window.

“It was a slip of the tongue.” He protested before attempting to change the subject. “Look all I’m saying is that, you’re perfect.” Steve’s face broke out into a grin and he rushed to continue his sentence. “I mean for the track! Your voice! It’s perfect! God, whatever. We don’t even have to put your name on it, and if you want to do even more than background vocals maybe we could do that too.” He grumbled, burying his face in his hands to hide the vibrant red screaming off his cheeks.

“So you think I’m perfect, and beautiful.” Eddie dropped his hands to give Steve the most incredulous look, only to be met with a shit eating grin and a raised eyebrow.

“Fuck you.” He went to take a step away but Steve caught him by the wrist.

“I’ll do it.”

“What?” Eddie spun back around. “You will?”

“Yeah why not, maybe it will be fun.” Steve shrugged, aiming for nonchalant but Eddie could see a pleased grin tugging at his mouth. His eyes sparkled with interest and oh god, Eddie was so far gone.

“Steve Harrington I could kiss you right now, holy shit.” Eddie breathed, filled with excitement and anticipation.

“Okay.”

“Wait, what?”

“I said okay.” Steve met Eddie’s eyes again, a little bit of hope and fear stirring underneath the brown irises and well, Eddie didn’t need to be told twice.

(They recorded the album a week later, and Steve even had a side part in a song Eddie had written about him, though he didn’t know it was about him until a few weeks later when Dustin mentioned it.)

[hoperays-song]

My favourite aspect of fandom by far is it’s ability to just take one look at any new piece of material and go “thanks, but no thanks”, and utterly ignore the brand new canon information.

Don’t like a character? Easy, they never existed!

New movie/episode is trash? Don’t worry, it was a character’s fever dream the whole time!

Your fav died? That was just a hallucination of their loved ones while they’re in the hospital, they’ll be fine!

The ability of fandom to completely rewrite material is utterly amazing. The collective willpower and spite we wield at all times.

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

Baby Taylor's baby voice is so endearing and it's going to be bittersweet to "lose" that on the TVs, but I'm really excited to hear how they clean up (or not) the production on Debut. I mean I know they're going to make it as accurate as possible to the originals, but I mean in the actual sound mixing and stuff. Because I feel like this album could benefit the most from some of that! Which is not to say that the original is bad BECAUSE IT'S NOT, but I think there is subtle stuff they can do with the mixing/blending/instrumentals/treble/etc. to make it shine even more.

[cupophrogs]

Was Pops much help in Home Sweet Home? I can imagine he was really helpful with the puzzles. Also did noodle father tend to your wound from the train wreck?

“I can do blood, but 1. It was my leg, and 2. I could see my muscles flexing whenever I moved. It’s a damn miracle the adrenaline let me go as long as It did - still is, rather. I still have no idea how I managed to carry DD’s ass while running! Pops and DD both are forcing me on bed rest until I stop limping. Cunts, the both of them!(/lh/j)” (Language, Cherub.)

[varyathevillain]

you know what I really like in season 2? how Jim Jimenez, who was not exactly part of the comedy in S1, which was most probably the reason why Blackbeard got them into the new crew in the last episode of S1... is now hamming it up as much as they can.

they used to be the silent support (posing as literally silent, mute) of the crew, someone who'd be on the fringes of both conflicts and comedic situations. and then, when Jim realises what exactly the good old days were to them, things they miss, the stories Stede told... they re-enact the wooden boy story the best they could. bring up the "toxic environment" to Izzy, refuse to let good things go, don't run from them, kiss Archie when she allows, ham it up with jokes and needlings, have a curly moustache drawn onto them and are the life of the party, and then Jim's the one to help Olu out with his new romantic partner. you'd think S1!Jim would be called "nosy interferer"? personally, wouldn't think so.

as much as we call a certain other character "person amongst Muppets", Jim Jimenez had also escaped their own genre, of "Hispanic revenge thriller", into queerness and acceptance of it wholeheartedly. with Jim being themselves, nonbinary and poly and breaking as many stereotypes as they can.

[owlito]

The moon will sing a song for me

[monsterfloofs]

Demon (No name yet?) x Anonymous Reader (Sfw)

You sold your soul. The thought never even crossed your mind until the day when travesty came to your loved ones. You knew there were rumors of people selling their most sacred self for many things, fame, fortune, beauty, yet you yourself traded for a different price.

To rework the damage of time, of events you could never be able to mend without help. You had tried to make peace with what transpired, but couldn't bear it. Thus you had decided your life was unliveable. What good was a soul if your heart was splintered into fragments. What good was a soul to a being that no longer wished to live without those who made life worth living? To rewrite the threads of fate bore a heavy price, and you could never see your other loved ones again. It was a cruel price, but one you gladly took.

Remembering the flash of bright pearlescent teeth, almost glowing in the dark. Turning with fear as a light bloomed into existence, the bright had burned your eyes. You pressed your fingers to your eyes as you ground tilted under your fit. As if the very ground had become a swarm of writhing snakes.

You had been prepared for the worst. You were ready to suffer ten-fold for your wish to abuse the hands of fate. Yet perhaps it was one last glimmer of luck, that your benefactor themselves ended up being an oddity. Dressing you up like a pompous porcelain doll and parading you around as if you were some kind of priceless luxury.

You examined your reflection in the mirror, tilting your head up to look at the dark lace like marks that encircled your neck. Fingertips smoothing over warm skin, digging your thumbnail against one of the elegant swirls and scratching at it. It was, no use of course, you had tried all sorts of ways to remove it. Your stare into your eyes instead, trying to read the expression on your own face.

Then a bell tinkled and you looked over your shoulder, before begrudgingly slouching out of the large baroque restroom in your private suite. The bell ment tea time and the first tea time of the month could only mean one thing. You dreaded the new clothes that would have to endure. They were usually poofy, with enough ruffles that you had entertained the idea of pulling them all off and using them as a rope to escape out the window. Seeing a prettily wrapped parcel on your bed you could only sigh.

It was cruel and unusual torment, yet considering how you had thought your new life was going to be. . . it was better in spades compared to that. You gingerly pull apart the bow, and open the box. Feeling your face sag as you lift up the garment. Well. . . it's. . . certainly.

Something.

Something as in, you felt like a pink profiterole as you waddled to the parlor. If the pants were any poofier perhaps you could use them to make a hot air balloon.

You sat with your hands folded in your lap as you looked out the window. Home, they had insisted you call this new world. Yet it felt like a gilded cage. No matter how pretty, how decorated the iron was, they were still bars. Your guard had been down, mind wandering as you stared out the window. You hadn't noticed the shadow looming over you until it was too late.

A clawed hand reaches over and gently pinches your cheek, which makes you scrunch up your nose and shake your head.

"Look at you!" They squealed, tail lashing back and forth. "Perfect, perfect, you are absolutely darling!"

They acted with an air of an overly affectionate aunt, and it was truly the most bizarre experience.

They clapped their hands. "I want to see all of it!"

With the air of a waterlogged cat trying to reclaim their dignity you stood slowly. Watching as they make a dramatic show of looking you up and down before spinning a perfect clawed finger.

"Do a little turn for me? Oh pretty please with a cherry on top?"

S i g h.

You turn on your heel slowly, lip jut in a pout, holding your arms out at your sides. You arms fall to your sides as your finish your and wait for further instructions. their hands clasped to their cheek and staring at you with something like tears in their eyes.

"You are just so scrumptious! OOH I could just eat you up!!"

You remember being terrified when they first said that, but now you blink mildly and politely sit back down.

They tap a fingernail against their sharp teeth, "I will have to plan. . . for next month maybe something in lilac yes. . ."

You take a deep breath, well, you told yourself you would ask, it's now or never.

"My liege. . ." You swallow thickly, "Perhaps I could. . . pick the design this time?"

You wait for the atmosphere to change waiting for the floor to drop out and you to fall into a fiery hell pit.

When you peek at them they look more like they want to cry.

"Really?"

You guiltily look at the tiered pastry tray "If it wouldn't be too much tro-" The last word gone as they fling their arms around you.

"Aaaaaa!!" They shrill, "Oh yes! Yes, yes, yes! Oh my lil cream puff, my lil cupcake you can have whatever you would like!"

Your eyes wide as you are rocked back and forth. It's getting hard to breathe. "M-my leige-" You wheeze, patting their back urgently.

"I was hoping and hoping you would ask I–" They drop you immediately, taking a step away with their hands held behind their back. "O-oh yes. Of course, touching, you don't like that whole invasion of personal space" They twitter nervously tugging at their collar with a finger. "Whoopsie, w-won't happen again!"

Enjoy what I write? I have a tip jar! I also take writing and art commissions on kofi! ヽ(*ᵔ▿ᵔ)ﾉ

[swordheld]

hi! your blog is one of my favourites and i absolutely adore reading your thoughts. my grandfather recently passed away and it feels like i lost myself with him. how do i continue living after this? there is this constant weight on my chest and it feels like an emptiness has made a home inside of me. how do i go on when it feels like the world crashed on my shoulders?

hello, love! this is so very sweet and kind of you, and i hope you're treating yourself gently and kindly right now - there aren't words for a loss like this. that heaviness is difficult, and hard, and painful. it's okay if things don't feel okay, right now, or even soon - i think that's something that a lot of the people i know that have gone through similar grief feel: like they should be able to get back to a relative 'normal' in a [insert far too short period of time].

but it's okay if it hurts. that's where i'd like to start. you're allowed to feel that emptiness, that world-crashed feeling that goes beyond words, beyond time. don't feel like you have to rush this to feel some sort of better. things get easier with time, i promise you this, but sometimes painful feelings are important to feel, too. cry, scream, feel your emotions. they're a part of you. grieve.

it's perhaps a little silly, but when i think about death i always think about a couple of space songs: mainly drops of jupiter by train and saturn by sleeping at last. there are perhaps others that speak to the emotions better, but these two have always hit something a little deeper for me, and are popular for a wide-reaching reason.

and while personally i don't know much about grief like this, i do know a lot about love; and i think they're a lot of the same thing.

the people we love are a part of us, and this is why it takes from us so deeply when we lose them, because it does feel like we've lost a part of ourselves in the wake of it. but it's because they were so central to our experiences of living - our lives, that the separation introduces a hollowness - a place where they used to be. a home that now goes unlived in.

an emptiness, like you said.

but just because they're not here physically, doesn't mean he's not still there, in your heart, in your life, your memory. you can hold him close in smaller ways, as well: steal a sweater, or cologne/scent for something a little more physical and long lasting for remembering. hold onto the memories you cherish, the things that made you laugh, the ease of slow mornings and gentle nights. write them all down, slide a few photographs in there, go through it and add more when you miss him. keep them all close, keep them in your heart.

you're not alone, in this. he's still there, with you, it's just - in the little things.

he's with you in the way you see and go about your daily life, in doing what he liked to do, in the ways he interacted with the world that you shared with him. the memories you recall fondly when the night is late or the moment is right and something calls it into you like a melody, an old bell, laughter you'd recognize anywhere.

but i think, perhaps most importantly above all others - talk about him. with your family, your friends, his friends, strangers; stories are how we keep the people we love alive. the connections they've made, the legacies and experiences they've left behind, and so, so many stories.

how lucky, we are - to love so much it takes a piece of us when they go. grief is the other side of the coin, but it does not mean our love goes away. it lives in you. it lives in everyone who knew him, in the smallest pieces of our lives.

the people we love never really leave us, like this: they're in how we cook and the way we fold our newspapers, our laundry, in the radio stations we tune in to and the way we decorate our walls, our photo albums. they're in the way we store our mail, organize our closets, the scribbled notes in the indexes of our books. the meals we love and the drinks we mix, the way we spend time with one another. they've been passed down for generations, for longer than history - and we are all the luckier for it.

think about what you shared with him, and do it intentionally. bring him into your life, like this, again. whether it's crosswords or poetry or sports or anything else. if one doesn't help, try another. something might click.

i hope things feel a little easier for you, as they tend to do only with time. i hope you find joy in your grief, even if it is small and hard to grasp at first. know that your hurt stems from so much love that there isn't a place to put it properly, and that it is something so meaningful and hurting poets and storytellers have been struggling to put it into words and sounds that feel like the fit right for eons, and that it is also just simply yours. sometimes things don't have to make sense. sometimes they just are - unable to be put into words or neat little sentiments, as unfair and tragic as they come.

but i promise it will not feel like this forever. your love is real. and perhaps, on where to begin on from here - i think it's less on finding where to begin and just beginning. and you've already started. you've taken the most important and crucial step: the first one. wherever you go, after that, from here? you'll figure it out. you always have, and you always do. it'll come, as things always do. love leads us, as does light - and you're never alone in your hurt. in your grief, your missing something dear to you. i think if you talk about it with others, you'll find they have ways of helping you cope as well - and they have so much love of their own to spare, too.

as an aside, here is the song (northern star by dom fera) i was listening to when i wrote this, for no other reason more than it makes me think of connections, and love, and how we hold onto the people we love and how they change us, wonderfully and intrinsically. it's a little more joyous than the others i've mentioned, and plays like a story, and it made me think of what is at the core of this, love and stories and i am here with you, and maybe it'll bring you some joy, if you'd like it. wishing you all my love and ease 💛