#things will get to him sometimes but it's always through a lens of like... himself if that makes sense. he simply does not care about other

[irregularbillcipher]

DO YOU KNOW WHAT SPAWNED YOUR EXISTENCE?

[ID: Two lineless, digital paintings, both with warm, dark gray backgrounds. Both canvases are shaped like exact squares.

Painting one shows an adult Bill Cipher, a bright yellow triangle with a top hat, bow tie, cane, singular eye, and long lashes, reaching out to shake hands with the Axolotl, a pink axolotl with an electric blue tail. Bill is looking at the Axolotl casually, and his outstretched hand is engulfed in blue flames, while the Axolotl is smiling at Bill gently, reaching out to take his hand. There are stylized stars, similar to sparkles, in the top right and bottom lefthand corners of the painting. The painting is textured so that you can see the gray of the canvas very faintly through the brush strokes.

Painting two consists mostly of a short passage from Edwin Abbott Abbot's Flatland, written in light gray over the dark background. The passage is the beginning of chapter 7, and reads as follows:

"7. Concerning Irregular Figures

I for my part have never known and Irregular who was not also what Nature evidently intended him to be-- a hypocrite, a misanthropist, and, up to the limits of his power, a perpetrator of all manner of mischief..."

Below the quote, near the very bottom of the page, is a tiny illustration of a very young Bill Cipher. He is drawn completely in grayscale, and is looking down at the ground angrily, fists clenched. He is wearing a pauper's cap and has bandages wrapped around his rightmost angle, which is noticeably longer and more acute than his other angles.

End ID]

[oikasugayama]

HII I love your charts so much!

can i request bad men on how likely they are to cheat on their s/o?

this is looking through my american lens of cheating (going on a date, having sex, or long-term flirting with/basically dating someone who is not your partner)

He needs the attention of a partner, but he still might cheat on you

Nikolai (is obsessed with you but is manipulative of your feelings; if you upset him, he might cheat on you to upset you back), Fukuchi (is so desperate for attention and praise that he'll seek it out from anyone even though he has you waiting for him at home, Mushitaro (needs the stability of having a partner but occasionally wonders if he's missing out on other romantic opportunities), Bram (feels it's his right as a person to have a partner but also to acknowledge when others are attractive...and sometimes get awfully close to them), and Tetcho (occasionally has moments of relationship panic which cause him to look for other people, but he always chickens out and comes back to you).

He would never cheat on you, and he lives for your attention.

Junichiro (needs someone to take control and lead him; would only stray if someone was coming onto him so strong that he felt like he couldn't get himself to say no), Oda (loves you and is devoted to you; despite his dangerous life, he will always be soft to you), Poe (is obsessed with you, adores you, and wants nothing more than you for the rest of his life), Jouno (realized that some things are worth protecting, you being one of them; he will fight for your honor and love until the end of time), Atsushi (needs your reassurance that he's worthy of love while he continues healing his life-long wounds; please be kind to him and he will always be kind in turn), and Fukuzawa (respects you even more than he loves you; what a despicable thing it would be to betray you by straying).

He has commitment issues which lead him to cheat on you.

Sigma (is so stressed out from work that he may occasionally take it out on a casino-goer who flirts heavily with him; why shouldn't he experience all that life has to offer?), Dazai (isn't sure how long he'll be here, so he can't fully shackle himself with a partner, regardless of how much love you give him), Tachihara (doesn't want to settle down because he's all over the world on missions; he'd rather be free as a bird, fucking whoever he wants whenever and wherever), and Mori (is so afraid to have a partner who could betray him or be taken from him that he uses his ability's manifestation, Elise, as a stand-in partner).

His commitment issues make him a flaky partner, but he'd never cheat on you.

Chuuya (occasionally feels suffocated, but reflects internally on his own issues and comes back to you and apologizes for being a shitty boyfriend), Ranpo (doesn't fully feel the need to have a romantic partner, but he likes you so much more than he's liked anyone else and you like him so he stays), Ango (is afraid to lose you which makes him wonder if he should leave first so that he doesn't have to deal with the heartache, but then he realizes how much it would hurt you and vows to stay and work extra hard to protect your relationship), Akutagawa (has rarely known tenderness, so you sometimes frighten him with the soft look in your eye when you kiss him; he feels like he's performing the role of boyfriend rather than being one, but he hopes he'll settle into it eventually), Kunikida (struggles to balance work with home which leads him to being bossy, but he also strives to be communicative so he's very receptive when you tell him he's being a shithead), Fyodor (takes a lot of convincing to settle into a relationship, but once he's there he only has eyes for you; he may occasionally leave you when he has to disappear on a mission, but he comes back with gifts and treasures and begs you to take him back, citing the unknown possibility of his death as the only reason he would have left you).

[autistichalsin]

What are some of Halsin's flaws, in your opinion?

Halsin's flaws, personality and others, major and minor (note that some of these are a bit circumstantial):

-He can't control his baser/animal instincts, which comes out in his wildshape issues. This corresponds with bloodlust in his animal form.

-He isn't suited for Druidic leadership, as shown at the Grove, which led to disastrous consequences.

-By his own admission, he focuses too hard on the tasks important to him and lets other ones fall by the wayside.

-Due to the above, he struggles tremendously with balancing conflicting obligations; he didn't bother much with the Grove when he was trying to solve the Shadow Curse, abandoned the Grove when the player showed up (though of course that was also due to his trauma and hatred of the Archdruid role), and if romanced to Karlach, is one of the only ones who refuses to go to Avernus with her, feeling that he and he alone can start the commune for the children and their needs are greater than hers.

-He has a self-sacrificial view about what being "good" is, and feels that he has to be unhappy if he's helping; he let himself suffer as Archdruid for 100 years rather than find someone else to take the role, and in the ending, he tries to break up with a romanced player to start his commune both because of his possible abandonment issues and because he doesn't see room for his own happiness when he's trying to help people.

-As I just mentioned, he does have abandonment issues to a degree; if the player dumps him in the ending, he says he knows nothing lasts forever. If the player suggests the party go their separate ways immediately after the battle, he says it was always destined to be so, but it stings nonetheless. He is shocked when the player comes to rescue him from Orin if taken.

-While he is an extremely kind and forgiving person, he has limits, and once those have been crossed, he gets very vengeful (I.E. everyone involved in his captivity with the goblins, or saying he'd like to "do the same" to whoever killed and stuffed a young bear for decoration in one shop in Baldur's Gate).

-He misreads social cues fairly often.

-He seems better able to assert his boundaries to strangers than to his friends and loved ones, I.E., not having much of a negative reaction to a Lolthsworn Drow threatening to sell him back into slavery.

-Because nature is his way of understanding the world, he struggles to understand things through any other lens. He has little interest in other things that can't be considered part of either nature or his Druidic duties.

-He takes things very literally at times, I.E. the phrase "you can say that again."

-He doesn't bother trying to hide when he doesn't like someone (I.E. if the player has incredibly low approval with him).

-He can sometimes be insensitive on accident, such as saying "imagine the horrors" when they're in a tadpoling facility, to Wyll in particular, though he does apologize right away when called on it.

-He is slow to true anger, but sometimes quick to annoyance, at least where strangers are concerned. (This is more so the case if they question him).

-He infamously doesn't trust Drow, and while this is justified in the case of Lolth-sworn Drow, he is initially mistrustful of the player if they are a Seldarine Drow too (though later he shows far more trust of Seldarine than Lolth Drow).

-His objections to some of the evil things encountered in the game are their unnaturalness more than their evilness, fitting with the Druidic belief that evil is as much a part of the world as good. He is more upset at how unnatural the tadpoles are than anything, at least at first, and if the Dark Urge shows off the Slayer form in front of him, he says it's "most unnatural. Most foul," and says that it only serves death/murder. (It's how unnatural and unbalanced it is that it bothers him more than the form being a giant monster, basically.)

-He has a huge case of hero worship to the player, which is why he falls in love with them almost immediately after they break the Shadow Curse, and has feelings for them even sooner than that.

-He despises turnips.

[shiny-jr]

🕷 impersonator [ miguel o’hara ] 

– Warning: Yes, this is a yandere thing. Gender-neutral reader.

– Note: It’s literally just a very small Miguel post to get it out of my mind. I’ve been wanting to write something with him for a while now, and I had a totally different draft with a whole story idea that would’ve lasted a few chapters, but ultimately I scrapped the whole idea and just decided to do something small. It ain’t much, but it’s honest work.

There was something wrong about being used to placate an unhinged man who called himself a hero. Maybe it was the passionate look on his anguished face whenever his red gaze was fixated on you, or the despair that seeped into his tone when he whispered sweet-nothings, or it was just your common sense that saw all the blaring red flags, but you knew this was wrong. Miguel may have declared to everyone that he was a good guy, a hero, quite possibly even to the point of deluding himself, but some of his choices were morally questionable, and criminal at best.

The glowing red sticky strings he used to form webs were probably stronger than the thin strand of what was left of his sanity. It must’ve been some sort of last-ditch effort by his fellow spiders to present you to Miguel O’Hara, perhaps to appease his growing anger and extremity. It’s like they had offered you up on a silver platter. You, who was shockingly similar to a loved one he lost in his own dimension. You were the poor pitiful bug caught in a spider’s web, with no hope to escape.

And at first, you hadn’t even realized your fate was sealed, you were already trapped. In your own dimension, he showed up. You knew Miguel, he was a scientist at Alchemax who was a bit of a nerd despite not looking like one, and he played soccer on the weekends. And yet, after months, you finally realized this wasn’t your Miguel.

Your Miguel would gladly partake in back-and-forths where you poked fun at each other, but that stopped and he began to give compliments to you of details he never once noticed before.

Your Miguel would peer at you through the lens of his glasses and smile while resting his head on the table, but he stopped wearing his glasses and instead he stared at you intensely while only smiling whenever your attention turned to him.

Your Miguel had brown eyes that looked like honey in the sun paired nicely with his pleasant smile, but recently his eyes looked almost red at night and when he smiled he displayed fangs.

On top of all this, he seemed to forget certain dates you had planned and sometimes the names of friends and loved ones escaped his memory. The first time this happened, for a split second, you swore you saw his expression drop and his eyes widen as an ominous frown appeared on his face. But when you blinked, his expression was back to normal, a relaxed smile on his lips. He brushed off his mistake and calmly explained that he remembers now, it just slipped his mind for a moment. Was it your imagination seeing that dark expression on his face, or was it real?

What was once fleeting affection with Miguel, like awkward glances where you accidentally made eye contact, or brief and shy kisses on the cheek, also began to change drastically. It all quickly morphed into something more intense. Gazes full of desire that glinted in those dark red eyes, deep kisses that you always stopped on the very point of no return, murmurs of promises to protect you that were said in a strangely solemn tone.

It became clear that something was wrong. The man you once loved wasn’t the same, as if he were a completely different person. This Miguel was not someone to be crossed. You would soon learn that once you confront him and claim to know he wasn’t your Miguel. Well, this Miguel had tried to smoothly integrate himself into your life. However, since that didn’t work, he could resort to other methods. Afterall, as Spider-Man, he had a reputation of being effective and forceful if need be.

[noirflms]

୧ ˚₊ EVERYBODY’S FALLING IN LOVE ( AND I’M FALLING BEHIND ) — itoshi sae

he has never been a lover, but the day he met you, he finally found what love felt like.

itoshi sae has never been a lover, because love has never been his cup of tea. it certainly not his thing to love, or do anything related to this word; he just dislikes it, for it leaves a sour taste in his mind. he has seen people around him fall in love, be so infatuated with the very thought of it, while dopey and lovesick grins stay on their faces.

and in that sense, itoshi sae is not a lover.

love to him is like a sour candy, too sour to contemplate that it might leave your taste buds numb for a while. love to him is fragile, and it is not in him to take care of delicate things, and a thing like that, he might just back out as is. he doesn’t like the way makes you weak, he’d rather be brave and have a harsh front rather than a soft and gentle one.

love is for the weak in his dictionary, it is for people who don’t have any strengths, to him love is just a mere words, a meaningless and a waste of time, to itoshi sae love is just a hindrance, nothing more or nothing less.

but sometimes a change of perspective could bring one to have a different view, and that was what brought itoshi sae to think about the world love again, a new point of view he gathered through a dreamy lens, one that was conjured up by the likes of you, a certain someone that brought him to like the way love felt.

a lot changed the day he met you, quite like a slap to his face ( literally ).

flashing cameras and crowding paparazzis are all he sees, they are quite blinding for sae, but he is used to bright lights and this lifestyle, having been a self made prodigy, he was surrounded by cameras and paparazzis. but he hated having eyes on him, for then he couldn’t have a life out of this captured world.

it’s always an article where he has been shammed or either an article which quite literally ensues rumours of him being a womaniser — having a new girl at his arm every week. it leaves a bitter taste in his mind to even think about such absurdities, so this time he was by himself at the latest football gala, a party for all the new club members to be exact.

sae finds it hard to be in the focus of everyone, men and women alike all like to be around him, but women are more to throw themselves at him, he despises the very fact such women exist. strained and fake smiles are all he shows, jaw clenched as he talks with men with mindset’s so different, five glasses of wine have been emptied by him since the time of arrival.

so soon he finds himself wanting fresh air, a breather from all this chaos, he finds a way out as soon as the lights dim and all focus on the stage in the room. he is silent as a predator is, and as good as an escape artist to make such an escapade but seems like the gods were not in his right, for as soon as he turns the corner, his cheek meets with a hand and it begins to sting.

never in a million years had itoshi sae thought of getting smacked in the entirety of the premiere.

“oh my gosh! i’m so sorry! i thought you were a stalker or something!” it’s a heavy accent he realises but the stinging on his cheek overlooks anything that happens around him. he shakes his head focusing at the voice at hand, but his heart almost leaps out of his chest at the sight before him.

( e.c ) eyes that gleam with worry as it seems to etch itself upon your features, you bite your lip in distress as you take notice of the red mark on his cheek, but his eyes are set on the way you bite your lip and he gulps, heart thumping in his chest. you observe his face that is just looking at you in awe, and as he looks into your eyes he realises you have no clue of who he was.

“i’m so so sorry!” the voice of yours breaks his stupor and the ache upon his cheek returns — it sure was a hard slap. you gulp as you see him fix his jaw, you swallow hard, the way he was suited up to the nines made you figure out that he was much more than just a creep; he looked famous.

your blood runs cold at the thought. your heart racing in your chest, as you await any loud gesture or shout for guards, or anything related to you being thrown out made your head spin.

“it’s alright, i was the one that turned the corner unannounced.” and sae is bamboozled at the words that slip past him, he looks at you, his eyes wide, and he notices your tense demeanour relax. a heavy sigh escaping briefly past your lips as you look up at him with a smile.

“but i-, um, i still apologise for the inconvenience.” you awkwardly chuckle, not cool [name], not cool, a voice rings in your head as you bite your tongue. it is then you make eye contact with him, his eyes are quite unlike any, and to him, yours were better than any. sae likes the way your eyes look like a hazy dream, he likes the way his reflection looks back at him through your eyes.

and in the moment he realised that he liked the way you looked at him, for you saw him for him, and not for the famous persona of his.

and since then, it’s been encounters here and there, finding each other at places you thought you’d never, bumping shoulder in areas one could have never fathomed. it turns from light glances to lingering ones, timid laughter turns into ones filled with nothing but genuine joy, small talks turn into conversation that ring through coffee shops.

then one hangout at his place, turns into a date at a place you like. then one date turns into two, then three, then four and soon they turn into long nights spend at your cost apartment, to ranging from movie nights at his. longing touches turn into never letting go of you, kisses that were once pressed onto his cheeks begin to linger upon his lips.

but itoshi sae was not a lover, so he never named the thing you had with him, but he liked that way you felt in his arms, he liked the way you fit right with him, he liked the taste of your lips on his, he liked the way you were his, yet not for him to keep.

for love was not meant for him, so then why did his heart ache at the thought of seeing you go. the mere thought of you being with another was like a nightmare to him, the very thought of you not being his, was utter torture for the said male.

yet here he was, a coward, he once again was a little boy who was scared to face the world to early, and love was once again becoming the victor and he could not accept defeat. he has watched many flourish within love, yet it wasn’t in him to be able to bear this sweet fruit of entanglement.

“you’re kind of stupid, you know that sae.” and for a moment, oliver aiku sounded right, he sounded to be much more truthful in the heat of the moment than he ever could be, much more better than itoshi sae was what oliver aiku had become in that instance. “certainly you look like a coward to me right now.”

and those were the last words, sae had heard from oliver before he was up on his feet, they ached as he rushed to your house, panting and huffing as he finds the door to your house to be right before him, shaky hands tremble in fear to press the doorbell, heart racing, he liked you, so what was there to fear in that.

as soon as his trembling hands press the bell and the door to your house opens, it takes everything in him to stop him from pressing his lips against yours. you were the only thing matter to him the most, in present and in future, you’ll be the sole thing that he’d like to call his forever and ever.

that fickle day itoshi sae had learnt so much more. he had learnt that love was not for the weak but for people who knew what strengthened them to the core. he learned that love was not bitter or sour, it was just missing from the right person and when you fall in love with the one that you know is true, you’ll know how sweet is the taste of the fruit.

and for the first time in forever, he wasn’t falling behind in any prospect anymore, especially in the case of love, for he had you.

the sole thing the brought him to a purpose he could have never known.

i like a chase, and itoshi sae is a man who certainly hates the idea of love but internally wishes to find just the right one ;)

NOIRFLMS 2023 ! all rights reserved - plagiarism is a crime , do not translate my works without permission. REBLOG MORE PLEASE !

[haykawas]

what i think would be their go to halloween activities — ft. satoru, suguru, choso.

gojo satoru – trick-or treating & urbex.

trick-or-treating is satoru’s favorite, and it’s quickly become yours as well, though it hasn’t always been this way. of course, you love this holiday. however, you used to think adults should stick to parties at most, and never expected to indulge in such activities past your eighteenth birthday.

but it’s to be expected when you hang around the gojo satoru, because that man just doesn’t care. he’s never felt shame once in his life, does what he wants whenever he wants. he likes to show up in the most ridiculous costumes, too, and you often have to take a break to laugh it all out before you begin trick-or-treating. and he loves the sound of your laugh, he adores it – and some might say your smile is the only reason he tries so hard to come up with the most unhinged fits every year.

and it’s not surprising he loves this holiday so much. you know satoru has a sweet tooth, everyone does. and you do too. so, of course, once you’re done with your little escapades, you get back to his and immediately sit on his living room floor to sort out all the candy you’ve managed to gather, throwing out the bad ones and exchanging a few. 

one thing about satoru is that even though he doesn’t say it, one of his love languages is act of services. you’re not surprised when he tosses a candy to you, complaining about how he hates this one while you catch it with sparkling eyes, because of course, it’s your favorite –  and while he’ll never tell you, it’s his too.

another thing you love to do together is explore abandoned places. since you’re both a little crazy, you follow him in his antics quite easily, and it often seems like you two have one brain for two. before you go out, you both spend hours searching for the perfect spots, weighing the pros and cons of every location and going over the creepy stories of every one of them.

of course, you get to play cameraman, while satoru stands before the lens. you both love to pretend like you’re ghost slayers filming a documentary, and it’s sometimes hard to focus when he makes your sides hurt from the things he comes up with. you fool around and scare each other, and although he’ll never admit it, he’s almost shit himself more than once – because, to his dismay, you might be a little too good at scaring the shit out of him. yet he secretly loves it, the smirk you’re sporting when you manage to make him jump. and maybe it’s the quiet of the night, the soft glow of the moon that illuminates your features ô so beautifully, or even the curve of your lips that his eyes try to not focus on that prompts this sentiment, but he feels a bit funny looking at you that night.

geto suguru – making costumes.

making halloween costumes with suguru is always so much fun. you visit plenty of stores together, and you both have this little tradition that takes the form of a contest where you have to find the most hideous pieces of the store and put them together in order to create the worst fit ever. the downside? the loser has to walk around town wearing the winning costume. and one thing about suguru is he doesn’t play to lose, to your dismay. the bright side is that you always get to remind him of the one time he put together something so awful he managed to startle an old woman so badly she fell over, knocking down an entire aisle. he then spent the next thirty minutes apologizing profusely while you failed to hold back you giggles, his eyes sending daggers at you at the same time.

another thing about suguru is that he loves to help you get ready. yes, this man is an absolute gem. he knows how to do hair beautifully, as he’s used to taking care of his, so you let him handle yours very often. he’s very gentle with it, his slender fingers gliding through your locks as he thinks about the style that would fit you the most.

he helps with your makeup too, and takes it very seriously. he’s deeply focused as he doesn’t want to screw it up, his brows are furrowed in concentration and his lips twisted into a little pout as he applies your mascara. of course, you can’t help but avert your eyes. his gaze is always so intense, it just throws you off balance, but he doesn’t let you do so. instead, he takes your chin between two fingers, his tone firm as he tells you to ‘keep your eyes on him’ while he continues to work on your eyelids. oh, and next up are your lips.

kamo choso – pumpkin carving.

pumpkin carving with choso is so domestic. he invites you over because he knows you love manual crafts. you’re not good, granted, but you love it nonetheless. and it’s not just you two! yuuji’s there too, and the three of you first head out to visit the farmer’s market. there, choso tells you how to choose the perfect pumpkin, and you listen to him intently, your gaze soft as he loses himself in details – you don’t want to cut him off and tell him you’ve actually learned all about it before you came, the way he’s so passionate about the subject making your heart jump in your chest. 

he flushes red in embarrassment when he realizes he’s been rambling, asking why you haven’t interrupted his monologue as you shrug, feigning indifference. and yuuji smiles knowingly, snickering because his brother can be so oblivious sometimes.

and once you finally get to it, knives in hand, he can’t help but hover over you, worried that you’ll cut yourself — and he’s right to, really, with the careless way you hold the knife. so he stands behind you, his hand on yours as he guides you, showing you the safe way to proceed and giving you advice on the best way to shape your monster’s features. he chuckles with pride when you look up at him with a happy grin on your lips after you’ve managed to finish a pumpkin without losing a hand and praises you. he’s so supportive it hurts your cheeks from smiling too much, but you don’t tell him you know he’s just being nice, because you might’ve just carved the most horrendous pumpkin ever known to man. 

[inchidentally]

Lando's eyes always sparkle when he looks at Oscar and it captures my heart every time. You can see that Lando likes Oscar very much and his eyes don't even hide it. God, their relationship is so intimate that sometimes it's hard to watch without feeling like a third wheel. Oscar, I don't know how you did it, but as a Lando fan, I'm grateful that I get to see this version of Lando every time he's around you.

straight up anon, the shift in Lando when he got a teammate who exists on the same natural wavelength as him has been a thing to behold ??

like, Lando is someone who goes through life looking for romance and he so easily gets a crush on anyone who populates his world with something special or beautiful. that's what has made Oscar such a unique relationship for Lando because Oscar doesn't consider himself or his life at all in the world of romance or fantasy. he considers himself extremely practical, "low frequency" and enjoying the simple things in life. he's not at all a typical heroic figure like Carlos or a big camera-ready personality like Daniel. Lando's interest in Oscar has been a slow but steady curiosity that has grown even without Oscar initiating a joint hobby or going on outings together or playing up a bromance for fans. Lando was definitely a little unmoored by the lack of all of that for a while!

the only two aberrations in Oscar's calm and cool are his pursuit of F1 and his fascination with Lando, which we know to have been intertwined as early as him moving to the UK at 14. there is serious romance in the way they ended up as teammates and major drama of Oscar's determination to get that seat.

but! then there's Lando saying how he sees them as similar to each other back in July 2023! bc Lando had always used self-mockery to interrupt his moments of earnestness and in a lot of ways was always striving to be Just A Guy to fit in with the guys in his life. his creativity would pop out very occasionally but mostly he became known for being naturally funny and able to click with just about anyone by matching their energy and adapting to their humor. he even took great pride in The Lando Effect - which ironically was more about Lando changing to suit Carlos and Daniel, who he has almost separate versions of himself with. he was the baby brother as always, wanting to hang out with his older brothers and wanting to fit in.

and then he gets Oscar as a teammate who seems content to just stay back and watch Lando and observe Lando and learn everything about Lando he doesn't already know. who seems to have no limit when it comes to handling the full range of Lando's personality and never tells - or even jokes - that Lando should change a single thing, even when it directly impacts Oscar. Lando doesn't have to match Oscar's energy and it turns out! they both like it best when Lando doesn't try!

which is when we started seeing lando.jpg reemerge and 7 podiums and a new hunger for even more and higher expectations of himself and a calmer, more authentic - less cartoonish - Lando on camera in challenges and social media. he even said how Oscar taught him by example the importance of "keeping calm and being yourself". of course silly, fun Lando is still there! he's still little brother to Carlos and Daniel and George and Alex! but those are now some of the many facets we've gotten to see in the past 14 months!

the winter break was a revelation because Lando spoke to fans solely through his camera lens and the reflections of the beautiful world he saw as he traveled. no goofing, no pretense, no corporate. his chosen pose for all his photos was partly in fun, partly symbolic of his confidence that he didn't need to sell these photos as selfies for them to blow up all over social media.

and all the while Oscar was quietly on his own down time and training, liking Lando's posts and saying "you went everywhere!" and listening to Lando recount it all.

then Lando came back to work this year and everything about him wore a new sheen of beauty and romance to it, including him having grown more beautiful. he's used his beauty more consciously when modeling and even LN4 and Quadrant took on a more stylized look. his new McLaren contract announcement was an entire aesthetic complete with a short film.

like, obv this whole post is me going off on a whole stupid thing but just. Lando was always meant to live his life in a unique way and he was always meant to see things through romance and art and music. he wasn't supposed to apologize for enjoying racing as a means of attaining perfection one day. and there's Oscar who reflects back to Lando all the quirks and things that make Lando unique that he's memorized over the years, listening to Lando's music in place of the usual silence in his own driver's room, helping Lando navigate unknown food and new lengthy words and knowing when Lando is comfortable to take the lead in public speaking and when Lando needs Oscar to step in and handle it. pushing Lando all the time as a teammate and the whole friction creates the pearl analogy.

idk it's just not as huge a leap as I thought last year to say that Oscar's comfortable, placid life has long had a splash of color in it at last in some part because of Lando and that Lando has become the most authentic and brilliant version of himself at least in some part because Oscar is there to always appreciate it.

like this little moment of Lando giving Oscar a nickname and Oscar finding it the best thing he's ever heard and Lando's half-stunned and delighted smile at being able to do that to Oscar is just all of that distilled:

Oscar's confidence has returned and he's smoothing over the awkward PR duties while Lando is relaxed and confident and the little quips like this just come so naturally. (the way Lando actually wriggles in his chair with delight over Oscar's reaction !!) like, Lando doesn't have to try ! he doesn't have to try to be anyone but himself ! there's someone here at work with him all day and every day who is delighted by him no matter what !

and what's even better is apparently! now that they both understand and exist on that wavelength together, they've returned from winter break circling around each other and looking for each other more than they ever have <3

[elasticitymudflap]

you know, i do find it kind of interesting that betty literally said 'goodbye' to him in all versions of the bus scene/the car scene, at the time fully intending that it was goodbye, except for here...

just thinking aloud here that, symbolically, she's getting on the bus for that 6 month trip. an experience, though long, she was always meant to come back from.

in the perspective of an omnipresent being like golbetty, she would probably have the insight to know if something really was 'goodbye forever', and yet this specific "goodbye" is done through the story of letting someone "go do their own things" for awhile. i think that a "goodbye forever" would have been more appropriate to have in a setting like golb's guts, mirroring the cosmic gate scene with casper and nova. instead, they're back to a point in their lives where their fates were still changeable, although now able to see it through the lens of lived experience.

she may not be going to australia (australians feel free to weigh in on that), but the point is that she's going somewhere he can't reasonably follow her right now, and he has to make peace with it.

and maybe this is the equivalent to them of doing their own things for awhile; being a human, being a god, living, dying, reincarnating, being whatever and whenever, learning and growing until cosmically they can find each other again on equal footing, both the better for having experienced these things as individuals.

i have to believe she isn't golb-bound forever, because what meaning and power does her wish have once simon is no longer in need of saving?

i think betty is now, for all intents and purposes, "free" to go do her own things for awhile. and like a dandelion seed, she's sent him off into the breeze to go find a place in this world to plant himself and grow. and sometimes we need to be apart in order to grow, but that doesn't mean it's "goodbye" forever, just for now.

[attractive-nuisance-esq]

Ed’s journey this season is going to perfectly mirror addiction and recovery, and I am so fucking here for it. Watching these first three episodes of S2 was like watching a highly dramatized AU of my own descent into rock bottom (except everyone was dressed wayyyyyy cooler than I ever was), so I have a lot of thoughts, reactions, and insights that I want to share with other fans. I’m sure many of us who have struggled with our mental health connected with Ed in these episodes, but I think addiction is the most appropriate lens through which to view him because addicts (more often than people who struggle with other mental illnesses) so wholly destroy their own lives and utterly devastate those of their loved ones. I want to share - from the perspective of someone who has steered her own ship straight into a storm and woke up alone to face some very hard choices - what is going on with Ed at the start of this season and what I think is coming.

Let me start by saying that Ed isn’t literally addicted to any one thing, despite his heavy use of drugs and alcohol, but his goal is the same as that of all addicts: escape. He does not want to sit with the pain of Stede leaving him on an immediate, surface level; on a deeper, more habitual level, he doesn’t want to sit with the pain of his own self-loathing. Of course the two are related: the former brings the latter to a head. Stede abandoning him dredges up and brightly illuminates all of his insecurities, and now Ed has to run. Get out. Escape. Don’t think about it. So he is fighting, stealing, drinking, snorting, shooting, killing - whatever it takes to not think about it.

“Demon? I’m the fuckin’ devil.” People in recovery often talk about addiction as if it were a separate, sentient monster living within them. Ed taking on the mantle of demon - a creature known specifically for possession, for removing the host’s free will - is intentional. So is his insistence that he’s not just any demon but the demon. The worst there is. (More on that when we get to The Innkeeper.)

Izzy’s confrontation of Ed in the captain’s cabin and then on deck is a form of intervention. Izzy is trying to help Ed, but of course this goes terribly for him and for Ed because interventions (I cannot stress this enough) are maybe the worst thing you could do to an addict. All addicts know things are bad, but they cannot be pushed to change one single second before they’re ready. Ed knows things are bad. He’s well-aware of how he’s spending his time, how his crew feels about him, how disappointed Izzy is. Being confronted with all of those truths by Izzy was always only going to make him do two things: 1) dig further into his unhealthy coping mechanisms, never mind that they don’t have nearly the effect that they used to; and 2) lash out at the person who forced him to think about it. Izzy lost his leg the moment he stepped into Ed’s cabin.

The impossible bird. You guys remember the song Chandelier by Sia? The one about her addiction to alcohol? The whole thing may as well come right out of Ed’s mouth at the end of that first episode, because that experience is exactly what he’s trying to convey to Frenchie. Nevermind that Frenchie has the temerity to tell him the bird can’t exist, that it has to come down sometime, that flying forever isn’t sustainable. The bird can come down on its own terms, or crash… but Frenchie’s definitely not going to say that much. Still, “that sounds like something that can’t exist” hits Ed, and leads us to the next episode.

Now we’ve got Ed forlorn, heartbroken, almost catatonic while playing with his cake toppers. We don’t actually see him crying in the opening of the episode, which is the point. He’s done crying now. The impossible bird can’t exist, and Ed has already resigned himself to this. He’s decided to die. The only sure-fire permanent way to not think about it.

When next we see Ed, he seems to be doing better, but this is a huge red flag for anyone who knows to look. He’s giving away his responsibility to Frenchie; he’s cleaning the cabin for the closure. He knows the end is coming fast, and the relief that knowledge brings him leaves him weirdly at peace. It is he eeriest part of these episodes, IMO.

Then he goes to find his first mate, the person who knows him better than anyone else in the world, the man he just fucking shot and ordered killed. Ed needs his low opinion of himself validated, and of course he thinks he’ll get it from Izzy after everything he’s done to him. He wants the one person who has stuck with him through everything to confirm that he’s now irretrievably broken and no longer worthy of his love. Ed wants someone to tell him that he’s right: he should die.

He doesn’t get that from Izzy. Interestingly, Izzy doesn’t tell him he should die. He says “Clean up your own mess.” Izzy has learned the lesson now that Ed isn’t ready to get better and that he can’t make him be ready. (This post isn’t about Izzy, but hoo boy - I have big feels about that man.)

Ed has been indulging in various forms of self-destruction in order to not feel his feelings, and steering the ship into the storm is his worst indulgence yet. This is the worst of his crimes - not beheading or arson or a red wedding. It’s when he tries to bring down everyone who has ever loved him into his misery, into believing what he believes. The audience generally (and Ed’s audience of Stede specifically) can forgive him for hurting strangers and for the non-specific mayhem whose victims we’ve never met; but it is much less certain that anyone will forgive him for hurting the only family he’s ever known.

The storm itself is the perfect metaphor for Ed’s attempt on his and, incidentally, everyone else’s lives. One of the most common metaphors used by friends and family members of addicts is that of a hurricane: that their addicted loved-ones tend to destroy everything they touch, anyone who was foolish or brave enough to stick around. And, like hurricanes, addicts aren’t malicious. Ed’s primary goal here is to get himself killed, not to kill everyone else. He wants the ship to go down so his death is certain. His firing a cannonball into the mast and asking Jim and Archie to fight to the death isn’t malice: it’s utter and complete nihilism. Nothing matters anymore. Nothing and no one. The end is near, and he’s so fucking drunk and high off these distractions that he couldn’t think about it if he tried. He’s manic with relief. (See also: “Finally.”)

And now for the finale: Purgatory. Buckle up, because this is where the addiction analogy gets real *chef’s kiss.* Purgatory is the equivalent of the morning after the worst, most rock bottom binge night of your life. You wake up with no one for company but the ghosts of your former selves. Now what?

Well, first - who is Hornigold to Ed? Why is he the guy Ed sees? It’s because Hornigold is another addict, if you will, but one who is (in this Purgatory hallucination) farther along in his recovery. He can impart some wisdom from that place, but he can also stand in as someone Ed can loathe because they’re not as different as Ed once thought, even if Hornigold can say he’s grown.

Hornigold tries to give him soup. He tells Ed, “Gotta get these nutrients into you,” and then literally shoves soup down his throat. That’s what it’s like in rock bottom. You don’t want to take care of yourself, but some lizard brain survival instinct takes over and makes you drink water, eat a piece of fruit, take yourself to the hospital. These things don’t really happen voluntarily that morning after, but you can still count on that instinct to kick in with some damage control.

Ed telling Hornigold how he “got here.” Hornigold says “Mutiny. It’s always mutiny.” Ed insists his mutiny was special, worse somehow. This whole scene is exactly what happens in your first recovery support group meeting. You go in thinking no one has ever been as fucked and fucked up as you are, which makes you feel isolated and alone. But then you get there and everyone else in the circle has done the same shit, been through the same shit. Ed’s not actually the devil; he’s just another demon, like many demons before him.

Ed worries he’s insane when he reflects on everything he’s done. Hornigold’s reply that “Feeling bad isn’t going to rebuild an abdominal wall” is a concept that people usually learn a little bit later in recovery, so I expect we’ll see more on this theme from Ed. Guilt is a useless emotion that only serves to conversely make the addict feel better but doesn’t help the harmed party: the addict feels like their suffering is cleansing, but it’s not - feeling guilt is just more self-indulgence, more self-destruction. Hornigold - a fellow addict in this moment - is trying to get this lesson to him early. It’ll return.

“You’ve got to move on or blow your brains out.” We’re getting back to Purgatory as the metaphor for the morning-after rock bottom, because this is the exact calculation that every person in recovery has done. They all had to answer that one big question. Your whole life is a mess, and you made the mess. Do you want to clean it up? Or quit? (Or make some soup? Yeah. That big question can’t be answered without basic needs having been met. So let’s eat. Let’s start there. It’s easier.)

Now we have Ed’s fantasy about opening an inn: This is also a common part of the morning-after rock bottom. You start thinking about the wrong turns you took, the mistakes you made, the way your life was supposed to go and all the reasons you’re not where you wanted to be. (And all the people you can blame for the fact that your life didn’t go as planned.) And when that honest part of yourself starts telling you that actually it’s all your fault… well, a) you don’t wanna hear it, and b) you can’t silence (kill) that monster, no matter how hard you try. You’ve got to face it. Face all those truths you’ve been running from for years. Now you have to think about it.

So now the big question, the inevitable math. Hornigold suggests looking at the pros and the cons. That’s the easiest way to break the calculation into manageable variables. This is probably my favorite moment of the episode, because when you’re sitting there, morning after the worst night of your life, everything is fucked - these are the exact variables that go into your equation. Do I really want to live? You ask yourself that, and because your life is in fucking shambles, you come up with the stupidest goddamn reasons to keep going. You wanna see the next seasons of Good Omens and Loki. You wanna eat your mom’s spaghetti again. Sometimes it’s nice when someone hugs you. It’s never the big things that save your life; it’s a bunch of the littlest things. The smallest comforts. The big things… they’re too unattainable. They’re too much to hope for, and they’re more than you could possibly deserve. What are the pros of living for Ed? Warmth, good food, orgasms. This is a stunningly accurate representation of the things that will keep you alive once you’ve hit rock bottom.

And then the cons: “I don’t think anyone is waiting for me.” This is why addiction is the better metaphor. There is no human experience more isolating than addiction. You are alone in more ways than you’ve ever been before. You have pushed away or pissed off everyone who ever cared about you. And even the ones who will maybe still be there for you - they can’t help you clean up the mess you’ve made. You have to do the work alone, even if they’re still willing to stand next to you. And this con… it’s the scariest one. Your list of little pros looks so pathetic next to the horror of being utterly fucking alone. Who is going to brave that for some stupid shit like Tom Hiddleston sexily flipping his hair back in that Loki way he does? Why should Ed carry on just because blankets are cozy and marmalade is pleasant?

This is where we get to the moment on the mountain, and what Stede represents. Hornigold tells Ed “You’re unlovable, and you’re afraid to do anything about it.” Ed could do two things about being unlovable: He could try to fix it, or he could end it all. Hornigold represents the worst part of Ed: his weaknesses and cowardice. And if Hornigold is in the driver’s seat, he’s going to end it all. He throws the rock off the cliff, and Ed gets dragged down into the water to drown. (Let’s also talk later about how often addiction is compared to drowning, and how nothing else in the show actually threatened Ed’s life - not Izzy with a gun, not all the rhino horn, not Jim’s cannonball - like drowning in his own mind.)

But then there’s Stede. Stede is how the pros win over that one big, horrifying con. Stede is hope. Stede is just a glimmer of hope. Hope is the most important thing you need in the morning-after rock bottom. As much as I enjoy the idea that it was love that saved Ed, I don’t think that’s a wholly faithful interpretation. Because Stede’s love for Ed doesn’t solve anything, doesn’t fix anything - it certainly doesn’t fix Ed. It cannot fix Ed. Hornigold just told Ed that he’s the one who has to “do something about it,” because Ed is the only one who can save himself. But even if Stede’s love for him in itself isn’t what saves Ed, Ed’s trust in Stede combined with that love gives him hope. Stede loves Ed, truly loves him, came back to him even though he knows Ed’s nature, knows his list of crimes, knows what he’s done to Stede’s friends and family. And maybe Ed can find in himself what he trusts Stede truly sees. It’s a “maybe,” not a certainty. But it’s hope. Someone loves him. Maybe he can love himself, too.

This Woman’s Work: I read this song as referring more appropriately to Ed’s relationship with himself, in no small part because Ed literally made himself the woman in the cake topper couple. All the things that should have been done, should have been said - they’re things Ed needs to do and say to himself. He’s got a little life and a lot of strength left. The journey has just begun.

I want to pop back quickly to a few other moments in The Innkeeper that resonated, starting with Stede and Izzy’s discussion about what happened to Ed: “He went mad. He was a wild dog.” Izzy describes Ed’s breakdown as if he was no longer the same person he once was; this is exactly what addiction does to a person. Ed hasn’t been himself; he’s been held hostage by his need for escape, and he’s become something else. Possessed, if you will.

Izzy: “You and me did this to him, and we can’t let the crew suffer any more for our mistakes.” I’m not writing an essay on Izzy (yet), but this is a very interesting perspective that says a lot about Izzy. Stede and Izzy both owe apologies to Ed, but they are not responsible for his actions. I predict we’re going to see this theme explored in later episodes as a part of Ed’s healing process and recovery. And also hopefully in Izzy’s growth.

Frenchie’s line that “We’ve been living second-to-second for a while now” is a callback to the impossible bird idea. Which, again, is just Chandelier x Sia. “I’m holding on for dear life, won’t look down, won’t open my eyes, keep my glass full until morning light ‘cause I’m just holding on for tonight.”

So what’s next? For me, it was learning to sit alone in a quiet room with my thoughts. It was apologizing to the ones I hurt, because even if I didn’t mean to hurt them - even if I was suffering also and worse - they still got hurt, and in the end it didn’t matter why. It was developing the habit of liking myself, and acting on whatever self-love and affection I could conjure up. And yes… it was new seasons of Good Omens and Loki, my mom’s spaghetti, and hugs.

So I think Ed has a lot of accountability, reflection, and breaking of old habits in his future… but also warmth, good food, and orgasms. And good for him. That’s the beauty of recovery: we get to come back.

[subbmissivesuccubus]

H-L ( Part 2)

Content : Rengoku X Fem Reader X Uzui. NSFW one shots.

A-Z prompts, part 1~

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Rengoku grooms himself well, a neat patch of hair on his abdomen that matches the red and yellow pattern of the hair on his head. It made him a bit flustered the first time you saw it, your eyes widening as you didn't realize you were just staring at this man's dick. Uzui is completely clean shaven, not a hair on his body as he finds it more comfortable and gets to show off his physique more flamboyantly.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

The intimate moments while you're getting you back blown out by two amazing men always made your head spin more so than their thick cocks splitting you open. Rengoku is very romantic and it came as no surprise to you. Even when he's rough with you, pulling the leash of your collar and lightly choking you as his hips continue to piston into your pussy from behind, he manages to keep the romance going. "Oh, angel~ You're my perfect wife~ How did I get so lucky, hmm?" Definitely more of a kisser, his lips on you as much as possible. He loves kissing your lips of course, his favorite thing to do as you fuck, swallowing down the moans and whines he gets out of you. But as he kisses you, Uzui is also working hard to distract you away from Rengoku, pulling your chin away from the flame Hashira so he can take them instead. The romantic aspect of your time with Uzui depends on his mood. One moment he's peppering your face with kisses as he makes love to you and the next second he's pistoning his cock into you like a mad man, growling degrading filth. Uzui is either at a zero or a hundred and there's no in between. It sometimes gives you whiplash on how last night he was so sweet and intimate with you that it almost made you cry but tonight, he's got you in a mating press, a blindfold over your eyes and a gag in your mouth as he pounds your pussy, growling as he fucks you into next week.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

With his numerous partners, Uzui sometimes forgets how enjoyable it is to jerk off. He'd always prefer to sleep with you or his wives but in cases where he's alone, out on missions, or sometimes even when there's free time while lounging around in an inn, he'll whip his cock out and start pumping. To help him along, he has four pictures, one for each of his partners in very sexy positions- yours in particular was of you on the bed, looking into the camera lens as it captured Uzui's cum dripping out of your pussy, hickies and bite marks littering your beautiful skin. He'd hold the photo with one hand while he jerked himself off with the other, working his fat cock as he pumped up and down, his mind wandering and thinking of all the filthy, nasty things he was going to do to you once whatever mission he was on was completed. He's definitely a man who buys erotica, a man of culture who appreciates the work that goes into writing a steamy piece of fiction and he has absolutely jerked his cock while he reads, picturing himself and you undertaking the sexual acts described within the pages. Depending on how pent up he is and what materials he uses to help him along, he'll either cum in minutes or it takes an hour- but either way- he's having a good time.

Rengoku didn't understand the point of masturbating. If he had a lover and they had an active sexlife- why waste his seed on his hand when he can instead pump it deep inside of them? But his viewpoint changed when he met you. All three of you being high profiled demon slayers meant many missions and nights without each other which made the man finally understand the desperation to feel pleasure.

Rengoku, at one point, got so desperate for release that he didn't even make it to the inn. He saw a glimpse of you and your team rushing to another destination to slay demons, passing through the area that he just finished cleaning up. The two of you made eye contact, the first time seeing each other in two weeks and immediately, he felt his cock throb with need. It didn't help that you had subtly separated from your team secretly to quickly run upto him to give him a kiss before running back to your team, a peck that barely lasted a second and that made his desire for you to grow tenfold. It took everything within him to not simply grab you and take you to bed- his responsibility as a demon slayer stopping him from keeping you be his side. Once you were gone- and he is ashamed of this- he found a dark corner in an alleyway and jerked himself off, biting the collar of his uniform to keep his grunts and moans of your name from escaping his lips. Just something about seeing your beautiful face and perfect body and feeling your soft lips pressed against his made his cock instantly harden. Fisting his cock, he keeps his senses sharp to make sure no one would walk in on him furiously jerking off, Rengoku trying his best to imitate your movements as he closed his eyes, picturing you jerking his cock instead. Post nut clarity hit him hard when he was cleaning his cum off the walls, a deep blush on his face as he got embarrassed, but he just couldn't help himself.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Rengoku has a breeding kink because of course he does. He strives to one day have a wonderful family with a beautiful wife and an army of healthy, happy children. He can't wait for the day he becomes a father and of course, raise his children along with their stunning mother. He tries to push down this side of him as you two aren't married (yet) but one time he accidentally came inside you and the image of his cum dripping out of your pussy pushed him over the edge. Now, he doesn't care. He just can't have sex with you without dumping load after load into your pussy. He'll sometimes overstimulate himself, refusing to stop until his cock is weeping for a break, balls drained of every drop as he floods your womb with his seed. His favorite position is the mating press and fucking you from behind. Anything that can get his cock deep inside you to fill you up will always be his go to position. Legs pressed against you ear as he fucks into you vigorously, balls slapping against your pussy or with you face down, ass up, Rengoku having a bruising grip on your hips as he pounds you from behind, your ass jiggling with every thrust- nothing can beat it. He'll whisper the most wholesome things into your ear while having filthy, filthy sex, the contrast of the two giving you whiplash. "I can't wait to start a family with you!" he'll say as he pushes your face against the mattress, muffling your moans as he pounds you from behind. "I want a baby girl that looks like you~" he'd grown into your ear as he takes you against the wall, his cum dripping out of your pussy and onto the floor. "I want to make you a Mommy- make me a Daddy- just marry me already!" he'd say as he pistons his cock into you, hands pushing the back of your knees harder, folding you in half as he aimed to dump another load inside you. You get the idea.

Uzui loves making you cry. Tears of frustration prickling your face turns him on to no end. His favorite way to break you down is by overstimulating you or edging you. Over stimulation tends to occur fairly often thanks to his and Rengoku's high sex drive- they end up leaving you a fucked out mess, body trembling and pussy twitching from how many orgasms you experienced. But he edges you on the days you're particularly naughty and bratty. He punishes you by taking you right to the edge before pulling you away, ruining orgasm after orgasm until you're begging him, apologizing for being naughty with tears in your eyes, pussy a bright red from how many time's he's spanked it to ruin your climax. If he feels like you've learned your lesson, he'll lie you down and eat your pussy out, his hot and talented tongue finally making you orgasm. If he isn't feeling very nice, he isn't above leaving you without any release for the whole night, the sight of you sobbing and pathetic stored in his brain forever, to be used as fuel for future jack off sessions.

He also has a size kink because of course he does. A tall, muscular hunk of a man- he loves how tiny you are compared to him. He could cum in his pants with just the image of manhandling you into whatever position he wants with one hand, always towering over you, his body keeping you at his mercy. He also has a breeding kink (although not as intense as Rengoku's) and he loves it when he cums too much and his seed seeps between the gaps of his cock plugging your pussy, dripping down your body.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

For Rengoku, even though it's quite boring, it is the bedroom. Nothing beats being with his lover in the privacy of his own room, surrounded by four walls with nothing to distract them as he takes you. It's simple, but effective and gives him all the freedom to go all night long without any interruptions.

Uzui is an equal opportunity slut and so, his favorite place to have sex is anywhere at anytime. In a bedroom? The perfect place to take your time and make sweet, passionate love. In the forest? What better place to breed you like an animal than to be surrounded by mother nature. Hot springs? It washes away the juices while your having sex- very efficient he'd say. In an alleyway minutes before you need to leave for a mission? Makes it all the more exciting!

You get the idea~

[draculas-curse]

Meta Knight loves to fight.

If there is one thing that he cannot go without, could never go without, then it is the rush of combat. The adrenaline that pours through him like a tidal wave, the fervour with which he swings his blade, it is everything; his crew, his Halberd, his duty and his homeland, in truth they all pale in importance next to the thrill of a relentless battle frenzy.

This is something that, even through shining glass, through beams of refracted light, through the crystal clear reflection of a gold-trimmed and glittering mirror, is left unfiltered. Dark Meta Knight loves to fight, because Meta Knight loves to fight. He knows this and he can accept this. It is sensible. A reflection must be accurate to the original visage, no? And if not in appearance, scarred and battered instead of immaculate and glowing, then at least in spirit there should be a perfect core that remains.

Dark Meta Knight likes to draw.

He sits in the sunlight, bathing in the warmth of his armour, surrounded by tentative allies sent for by the stars, and clutches a crayon in one fist. His dexterity is not quite as incredible with an implement of the arts as it is with an implement of violence. This does not matter, because when he scrawls across the paper, with too-tight grip and too-harsh force, the wonky lines he manages do not garner him any jeering. Instead, the fairy oohs and aahs over how passionately he's recreated his sword, and politely, the little artist advises him on how to put less strain on both himself and the crayon the next time he tries. Dark Meta Knight does not mind imperfections, really.

Meta Knight does not like to draw. He avoids picking up a pen or pencil whenever possible, and when he is forced to, he makes the experience quick. If Dark Meta Knight is so bold as to assume why, and he is, this is because Meta Knight is not good at drawing. Of course, neither is he. Not by a professional metric. Flawless swordsmen, but terrible illustrators. The reflection is accurate once again. However, Meta Knight cannot bear imperfections. He is always on a quest of improvement, and avoids that which he is not undefeated in. If his armour breaks, is marked, if he loses a chip off his pauldron or mask, he repairs it with the utmost haste.

Perhaps a reflection is similar, but not exact. Sometimes the mirror is smudged, or cracked. Sometimes it reflects backwards or sideways. Sometimes water will ripple across the clear lake. Dark Meta Knight can and has defeated Meta Knight. If he were truly a complete, perfect reflection, they would be too evenly matched for a victor. There are a million little other flaws. Meta Knight likes the idea of fairness, Dark Meta Knight doesn't bother with it. Meta Knight is perhaps slightly more upstanding than he, less inclined to villainy; though only slightly, Dark Meta Knight thinks, remembering through a cloudy lens how the Halberd once sank into the orange sea. In the end, the dark knight couldn't care much less. He is glad when the next time he sketches out the image of his weapon, the edges are a little more clean.

Meta Knight probably wishes for a true, unfiltered reflection, with no idiosyncrasies of its own. Dark Meta Knight doesn't see why he should seethe over minor details that get lost where the light misses crevices in the glass. Then again, he might just be spiteful because Dark Meta Knight trapped him in the shards of that very same mirror to see what it would be like on the other side of it. That would be a bit fairer, and Meta Knight likes to be fair.

But Meta Knight really, really loves to fight, more than anything else.

Dark Meta Knight puts the crayon down for now, nods when his fellows wave him goodbye, and turns to meet the yellow gaze burning holes into his back, brandishing his silver sword. Dark Meta Knight also really, really loves to fight, more than he likes to draw.

For the record, even if he won't go mad over it, Dark Meta Knight also still very much likes to win.

[mymarifae]

i just want to share my thoughts about akito and Death. because even now—even off the back of an event like burn my soul—people STILL talk about him like he's an explicitly depressed, suicidal character whose every action is cause for concern.

i think the idea that akito is suicidal has been floating around for a very long time. and while it's not entirely without merit (more on this in a bit), it's still a misconception. and it really feels like kashika exacerbated the issue. which is unfortunate! it's sad to see such a beautiful song be misinterpreted like this.

now don't get me wrong! kashika is about death. but two things:

1. kashika may have been written for akito, but it's not just for him. it's also deeply personal to ryo haruka. there are certainly similarities and haruryo undoubtedly understood everything akito felt during the events that led up to the crawl green incident, but i don't think it's entirely fair to equate his very real emotions and struggles to those of a fictional character. he and akito share kashika! you can interpret it through either lens, but trying to do so through both is where things start getting messy

2. whiiiiich leads me to my second point. who decided that the only way to interpret kashika and its themes of death is literally?

i think it's pretty common for people to automatically interpret any themes of death literally—or at least very negatively. we're naturally conditioned to fear death, and then we're taught to fear it even more. it's the change. it's the unknown. it's the very idea of an "end." most people aren't very fond of these things! understandably so. but personally? i think the symbolism that can exist behind death is beautiful.

Death is the 13th card of the major arcana. above all else, it symbolizes change (positive change; it's always, always about what's ultimately best for you). Death tells you it's time to move forward; this part of your life is done. there is more waiting for you—new opportunities, new experiences, a brighter, more fulfilling future—but you must be prepared to let go.

the habits and routines you have now? the mindsets that have kept you alive? your current sense of self? whatever it is, whatever Death is asking for, you have to let it "die." it won't serve you anymore. it will only drag you down. and it might be terrifying and you might not be able to comprehend what lies ahead and you might want to kick and scream and struggle, but you can't cling forever. endings are never easy, and sometimes they hurt like hell, but with each end comes a new beginning.

and yes if you've read burn my soul this should all sound very familiar lol:

looking at death from this perspective, kashika and the entirety of find a way out should read a lot more like akito caught on the cusp of a monumental transformation. suspended between "life" (the old) and "death" (the new) so to speak.

up to this point he's been fueled by spite and desperation. two very intense, very negative emotions—but it's an intensity that worked. everyone else on vivid street had years of musical experience, and he had 0. he needed to catch up and he needed to catch up quickly because it's not like he could put the whole world on pause. he could take his time to learn the basics, sure, but every other vivid street musician would continue improving and growing while he did that. there would always be a gap between him and Them.

unless... he worked harder—WAY harder—than all of them combined.

and maybe that wouldn't do it either. maybe he would be stuck in place forever, always playing catch-up, always struggling to stay afloat, always being left behind. he knew this. and he knew the amount of destruction he'd end up inflicting upon himself if he went down this path. but in his mind, it was okay. it was worth it. because he'd rather die endlessly pursuing what he loves most than live not trying at all.

but in find a way out, when facing off against his old bullies, he starts to realize that he was wrong. he's not just stuck in place. he bridged the gap a long time ago, and he almost didn't even notice. and where he's going now, spite and desperation are the wrong emotions to sing from. he needs to let the unhealthy, extreme mindsets die, but also it's hard to let go of something when you would have given up a long long long LONG time ago without it.

but with time, and enough poking and prodding from ken and luka, he does it. he lets go. he lets the old parts of him die, and he passes on to the next stage of his life.

akito's character arc has always been about growth. improvement. learning. Becoming Better. and not just in a musical sense although Yes That Is A Huge Part Of It. his arc is also about his growth as a person. it's about him becoming more confident, and learning how to be kinder and more patient with both himself and other people. it's about him learning how to let his walls down and let his loved ones in. and to trust that they won't start kicking him to death once they're in there.

it's about him learning to exchange the Spite and Desperation for Passion and Love.

it's about him becoming happier.

which is why it's so fucking startling when people talk about him like he's suicidal and on the verge of a breakdown. like, woah, what?

as i said though, kashika isn't the only source of this misconception and i find more merit in the other sources because they're actual aspects of his character and scenes in the story and not song lyrics that shouldn't have been read so literally in the first place. like, yeah. we've seen a ton of unhealthy behavior out of akito. he's had a very extreme perspective on his place in the world from a super early age, and while the severity frequently gets exaggerated in fanon spaces, the shinonome household isn't exactly sunshine and rainbows.

he's been moody, he's been prickly and abrasive, he's lashed out. he keeps most people at arm's length and builds walls so high not even toya can get through them at first. he had to! he wouldn't have survived if he didn't! like, he was targeted and bullied by a group of adults when he first started singing on vivid street. that is actually a genuinely traumatizing thing to happen to a kid!

so no, i'm not against the idea that akito has experienced depression and suicidal ideation in the past. kinda comes naturally with the territory he ended up in. but that's the key word: past.

i get confused when the idea is dragged into the present. because again! the whole point of his character arc is he's overcome all that PAST adversity! recovery isn't linear but we're not about to see him hit rock bottom any time soon. or ever, actually. you know why? because we've already seen his rock bottom. stray bad dog. that event was his big breakdown moment. that's what opened him up to try to start healing.

we're not getting another stray bad dog. stop expecting another stray bad dog.

he's alright, i promise. he's growing up. he's gotten better. he knows he belongs in vivid bad squad. he knows he's loved. he knows his friends will be there to catch him when he falls. he's always been strong, but now he's even stronger. he's excited for his future, and i think we should be too.

[starcrossedreaders]

Hi! hello! I'm new to the RE fandom and let me say that, i fell in love with Leon (RE2 and RE4), and my god, i can't stop thinking about him!

So... if you can, can you do a little story where reader loves to roller skate, and tries to teach Leon how to do it and both have a clumsy-cute-fluffy day.

(actually i'm trying to learn how to roller skate. It's acceptable too the other way around, Leon teaches reader, idk, i just thought is just a cute thing to do)

Thank you for read!

Authors Note: This is so so cute, so thank you for requesting it. I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings! None! Just cavity-inducing fluff Re4 Leon.

"Come on Leonnn, it will be fun, trust me,"

"You know I don't skate,"

"Baby, you are literally the top government hero of the world, I think you can handle roller skating," The attitude dripped from your voice as you gave Leon a 'seriously' look.

"Besides, it's my turn to pick what our next date is and I want to go roller skating," If looks could kill you would probably be deceased right now. Leon loved you to literal pieces but sometimes, on very rare occasions you can push his buttons; this was one of those occasions.

It was Friday night and you and Leon had just finished the movie he had put on. It's been a long week so the movies and cuddles were something you guys really needed. It was a normal routine you guys had established at the beginning of your relationship. Friday night you guys stay in, Saturday night was date night. You guys often alternated between who picks what you guys do, and you had just happened to luck out this weekend.

"Fine." He crossed his arms in defeat while you excitedly jumped around him.

"Oh my gosh, this is going to be so fun,"

"Whatever, I get to choose dinner then," You stopped your fit of excitement and looked at your boyfriend. His blue irises looked right back at you and for a few heartbeats, you guys stared each other down.

"Okay," you shrugged your shoulders and skipped off to your shared room. Leon could only scoff and shake his head.

The next morning you guys spent in bed sharing lazy kisses and quiet 'I love you's till you finally wiggled out of Leon's arms to get ready. His protests fell on deaf ears as you skipped to the bathroom.

Leon couldn't believe what you did to him. Never in a million years would he think he would find himself still in bed on a Saturday morning listening to you dance around in the shower singing along to the playlist he made for you when you first started dating. Just the thought of a future with you had him smiling as he rolled on his back to look at his phone. He mindlessly scrolled through past pictures of you guys on previous dates and his heart fluttered.

You had always made a point to take at least one picture together on every date you guys did. The last date you guys went on was a hike. Despite the rough terrain, the hot sun beating down on you guys, and the sweat running down your brow you still looked like the most beautiful thing in the world to him. Your face was red which contradicted the blue lens sunglasses that shielded your eyes. Your baby hairs stuck to your head as your cheek was pressed up against his. Your smile brightened up the whole picture, the mountains in the background could never compare. He took one last look at the picture and remained himself to print and hang the most recent picture.

The water came to a sudden stop and the music became louder. Leon could hear you humming to the song as you stepped out of the shower. Upon opening the bathroom door hot steam pilled into the cold room and you stepped out with a towel wrapped around your body and a similar one on your head. Leon had to hold back the urge to take you right then and there. He groaned and covered his eyes with his arm.

"Please change fast, I don't think I can hold back when you look like that,"

You could only snort as your waddled to the closet, "Perv,"

You heard Leon mumble 'meanie' under his breath as he rolled on his stomach to get a better look at you.

"What should I wear? A dress? Jeans? Leggings?," You look back at Leon in hopes he would help you out His arms were tucked under his pillow showing off his defined shoulder blades.

Leon mumbled into the pillow," Hmm, what about those jeans I just bought you,"

"OH!, That's a good idea, I love you,"

"Love you more."

After taking your sweet sweet time getting ready Leon was finally getting out of bed to get ready. You could tell he was trying to delay the enviable. While you were doing your finishing touches and your make-up Leon was brushing through his hair. The shirt he had on squeezed his arms in just the right way, and the Jeans he had on curved his ass, which you were secretly jealous of. Putting your mascara down you turn to look at him.

"Are you ready to go love?"

"Of course baby."

Leon grabbed his jacket and keys as you walked out of the house. He triple-checked that the door was locked before he lightly jogged over to you so he can open the door for you. On the ride there his hand stayed on your thigh rubbing soft circles while you serenaded Leon with your singing.

Upon arriving at the roller skating rink the harsh A/C hit your body. The lights were dimmed down while LED light shone around the area. Leon gripped your hand tighter as he heard a little kid scream out a laugh. The smell of greasy food danced in the air the further you guys walked in. Walking up the shoe counter Leon did most of the talking, and paying, like the gentlemen he is.

Sitting down on a bench you had cringed at the worn-down roller skates while lacing them up. Leon had yet to move to put them on, the look on his face said it all: I'm fucked.

Turning towards him you placed your hand on his thigh, "What's wrong love? Does roller skating scare you that much? If you want we can le-,"

"NO-no, you wanted to roller skate so we're going to roller skate, it's just.... I don't know how..."

"You don't know how to...skate?" You could barely see the light pink dust on his cheeks as he slightly shakes his hand.

You laugh a little, "Baby, that's okay, I'll teach you how. Don't worry is easy,"

"....Are you sure...?"

"I'm super sure love, Besides if you fall while holding onto me I'll be going right down with you so you won't be the only one falling," The beaming smile you gave him lit up the whole room.

"Tch, yea right," Leon bent down to put on his skates. After he tied his last knot you stood up and pushed yourself to curve in front of him.

"Kind Sir," You placed your hand out and bowed your head a little. Leon shook his head a little as he place his hand in yours.

Leon tripped a little when you helped walk him to the rink. When he placed his first skate down his skate rolled back and forth a little as he lost his balance. You were quick to lead his other hand to your shoulder to help him make the step-down.

"There you go, that's the hardest part I promise,"

Leon mumbled a 'whatever' as he slowly took his hand off of your shoulder.

"When you skate it's almost like walking, but instead of lifting your foot up and down, you are going to push your foot. Watch," You let go of Leon's hand and showed him the pushing motion.

Leon was amazed at how well you did this, you glided along with no problems, and you looked....graceful doing it. You circled around him and by the time you did your second lap, you skated backward to face him again.

"See? Easy enough, now it's your turn," Your curved to be on his left side.

"Want to hold my hand," You offered your hand to his. Leon was embarrassingly quick to grab it before you started to skate.

You guys started off extremely slow pushing one foot in front of the other. Leon was really struggling to keep his balance, the grip on your hand was starting to hurt the further you guys moved. The kids around you guys were putting Leon on edge. How are children better at this than him? He is literally a government agent, he had saved the president's daughter, and he can easily skate in a circle. His grip on your hand lightens up and his pace fastened.

"Okay baby, I see you," You laugh a little as Leon skated in front of you.

Your laughter squeezed Leon's heart. Looking back at you he could see your beaming smile as you sway to the music that was being played. He was memorized, the most beautiful girl in this building was his girl.

Being too engrossed in his thoughts Leon didn't notice the slight curve, and you had been too late to call out to him, "Leon watch o-" Taking the curve straight on he was too late to turn his body, and when he did he turn it was to fast and he lost his balance and fell.

You really had to try hard to not laugh your ass off. You were quick to skate over to his fallen body.

"Oh my gosh, are you okay?" A snort fell past your lips.

Leon was sitting down with his legs sticking straight out to form a 'V'. His head fell down to look at his hands that lay on the floor. His bottom lip stuck out a little as he small pout adorned his face.

"Poor baby," you moved over to his right side and crouched down to move the hair out of his face.

"Are you okay?" He shook his head slightly side-to-side

"mmhm," The pouting was too cute to take him seriously. You just had to take a moment to capture his cute face.

It's very rare to see Leon pout because if he pouts it's into your chest or neck. You were quick to pull out your phone and pull up your camera. You stretched your arm so you and Leon could fit into the frame. You tried to copy his pouting face by pushing your bottom lip out with puppy eyes. You clicked the button at least three times before Leon lifted his head up.

"Did you just...?"

"Nope, let's go get dinner I'm hungry,"

Clearly, Leon didn't believe you but he couldn't care less. Because in a few years, he would look back at the picture and laugh as he remembers this moment.

"Whatever you say....Can you help me get up?" Your laugh danced throughout the room as you stood up and shook your head.

"Of course, you big baby."

[3terna15unshin3]

time, curious time

1 of 6 ★ 6433 words

masterlist — next

— warnings: alcohol consumption, recreational drug use

“This area’s too dry. Grass looks like hay. It’ll look rubbish to set all the mic stands on it,” You argue.

Matty sighs in defeat. “You never like my ideas,” he whines sarcastically, rolling his eyes in the process.

Your elbow juts into his side, making him groan and then laugh. It’s your turn for an eye roll.

“Do you want my help or not?” You challenge, “I don’t have much experience with music videos, to be fair, so if you'd rather empty your pockets and hire someone professional—”

“Okay, okay, okay. Shut up. Let’s keep moving.” He interrupts.

You both continue on your path, scoping out locations for a video that the boys want to film later in the week. There are plenty of spots Matty suggests, stopping repeatedly to ask you to capture a certain frame. Though, as he had complained, none of them have been up to your standards. 

By now, you’re used to his constantly fleeting and sometimes messy creativity. You find comfort in it, actually, and feel the most empowered in your own strength as an artist when Matty’s there. Your camera seems the strongest in your hands when it’s pointed at him.

He nudges you to point out one last possible shot. The trees hang hauntingly low and its branches are frail, almost skimming the tops of your heads. Your feed tread over the now slightly greener grass as you come closer and look around in awe. Matty’s right, for one of the few times today.

“Now we’re talking,” You whisper in satisfaction, raising your Nikon to your eye out of instinct.

You back away slightly to get him in frame. From behind, the last hour of daylight shines through the kinks of Matty’s hair, backlighting him. It accentuates the slope of his nose as he turns to the side and looks up at the tree above him. His side profile is one of your favourite things about photographing Matty. It’s strong, but gentle.

He glances back at you after hearing a few clicks of the camera’s shutter. The sun that lights his silhouette contrastingly shines directly onto your face—since you face him—painting an orange glow across your skin.

There’s something that makes you feel like he’s staring. And you’re right, because he is, but it’s a stare that felt good. Not exposing, or perceptive in a way that usually made your heart drop. You almost want to look behind you to see if maybe he was looking at something else.

It’s sort of how he always looks at you, though. Maybe that’s how he looks at everyone, you think, but part of you hopes it wasn’t. That you were an exception. Something outstanding. 

You gasp when Matty suddenly lunges to steal your camera from your grip.

“Gimme this for a sec,” he mumbles. He’s lucky it isn’t hung around your neck as it usually was.

Embarrassment immediately creeps up your neck as he points it at you. You habitually block his view of your face with your hands, and insist, “Stop it!”

“The lighting’s nice!” Matty protests, pushing your hands away.

You replace them quickly to prevent any photo opportunities. “I don’t have space on my memory card for you to fool around, Healy.”

He rolls his eyes, turning the lens back onto himself to take a horrendously close-up picture of his own face. You giggle at the way his wrinkled skin was on display from the weird expression he pulled and the odd angle he held your camera at.

“This is literally our last location. Relax.” Matty points out.

Then, a bird tweets aggressively behind you, so you turn around to look for the culprit. Your eyes widen when it catches you off guard and squawks again, your sight flickering around the sky to try and find it. 

“God, what was that?” you mumble, but when you face Matty again, he has your camera held up. A flash and click tells you that he sneaks a picture.

“Seriously, Matty.” You say after catching him, and his smile falters. The thought of him capturing you candidly makes your stomach flip with anxiety, and he knows that. 

Since he’s aware, he hands your camera over, in case he’d pushed a bit too far. It’s the way you’ve been since he can remember; always groaning and uncomfortable to be in a group photo at school or denying his requests to pose for his camera every once in a while.

It grows frustrating sometimes, since it’s hard for him to grasp what you could possibly be insecure about. And, most of the thousands of pictures from the years you’ve grown up together showed everyone else’s faces and not yours, which made him even angrier. But that’s how you wanted them, after all.

This attribute of yours is one of the things most different about you and Matty. He loves having eyes on him—craves it, even. Wants to be seen and understood. But you're an observer, on the other hand. The world is fascinating to you, lighting your urge to preserve and savour its meticulosity. It explains your addiction to capturing it all with a camera. 

The difference makes you two a great team. Though you regret your commitments in moments like these.

“Let’s go before we get shat on by that bird,” You snicker, lighting the mood back up and giving Matty a shove. He stumbles over with a chuckle and the two of you bee-line for where his car was parked. 

By the time he’s arrived outside your building, the sun has set. You yawn after a fairly long day, walking in with Matty and dreading the four flights of stairs you’re about to climb together. The lift in your building is under maintenance and has been for the past few weeks, so you’re used to it. But that doesn’t stop Matty from complaining.

“What maintenance could they still possibly be doing on that fucking lift?!” He puffs as you tackle the first flight.

“I’d rather take the stairs than plummet to my death in a dodgy lift.” You add. 

The second floor approaches. Matty trails a couple of steps behind you and is already audibly out of breath.

“Agree to disagree, I guess.”

You finally reach your level and walk side by side over the creaky floor of the corridor. There’s still quite a way to travel until your flat nears.

“I feel like you can’t really complain about the stairs when you and the guys only live on the second floor. That’s half the amount we need to get to ours,” You point out, fishing your keys out of your pocket as the flat numbers grow closer to your own.

“And what do I do every time we arrive? Walk you up to your flat! Up four and then back down two!” He exclaims, “I’ll complain as much as I’d like.”

You unlock the door and your best friends are sitting on the sofa. Their heads of hair—one blonde and the other raven—turn around to watch you and Matty barge in. 

“And each time I insist that you don’t need to walk me up,” You counteract, bending down to take off your boots. 

Matty stops at the doorway, not planning on sticking around. He gives a wave to Avni and Greta with a small smile, but isn't done making his point to you. “I don’t trust our weirdo neighbours. You should thank me, honestly.” 

“Fine. Thank you for always walking me up. Happy? Now please leave. You smell like dirt from when you laid down on that pile of gravel,” You say, waving him off and grabbing the edge of the door to let him out. 

“I wanted to see if it looked cool,” he defends, then pulls you in for a hug goodbye, and pecks your temple before you back away. He begins walking back down the corridor to the stairwell. 

You call out, “It didn’t!” and watch him throw both of his middle fingers up in response. 

The door closes and you bolt the lock. You sigh, ready to collapse into bed. But before you have the chance to, Avni motions for you to come sit on the sofa. And though there are many places you’d rather be, you oblige, sinking down into the cushions between her and Greta.

“Come on, talk to us! We haven’t seen you all day,” she nags, nuzzling the side of her face into your shoulder. 

“Yeah,” agrees Greta, “I thought you were going to be back after your shift?”

“I was going to be, but then Matty picked me up and brought me dinner as a bribe to scout music video locations with him all evening. I was hungry, so I accepted his offer.” You explain.

Avni shrugs. “That’s a fair deal, I guess.”

You begin to stand up, thinking that what you’ve given was enough to satisfy your flatmate’s curiosities, but Avni’s hand yanks you back down. 

“But wait,” she starts, “Everything’s okay, right?”

There was worry in her voice that confused you. “...Yes? Why would it not be?”

“Oh,” she let go of a breath she seemed to be holding. “I just saw Matty hug and kiss you before leaving so I thought he might be comforting you, or something. I don’t know. Forget I asked,” Avni finishes with dismissal. 

The three of you chuckle casually and they finally allow you to get up. 

“Doesn’t he usually do that? I feel like that’s always how he bids any of us goodbye,” You say, walking around the sofa to head to your room, but pause to hear their answers. 

“I’ve known that bloke since he was pre-pubescent and never has he just casually kissed me without reason,” declares Avni, raising an eyebrow suggestively and making you shake your head in annoyance. 

You know what she’s trying to get at, but you don’t want to talk about it. You never want to talk about it. Avoidance really is your best friend.

She’s convinced she sees something there—and though you secretly wished there was something, the idea of attempting to do something about it makes you want the ground to swallow you up. You could barely admit it to yourself, let alone another soul, or Matty.

Plus, you really are convinced that it’s just a you thing, not a you and him thing. That you just need some time to get over it, even though it’s been nearly ten years. How could it ever be a you and him thing?

Thankfully, Greta’s big ego and her pestering lighthearted crush on Matty shuts down anything Avni is trying to insinuate, when she says, “He’s kissed my cheek plenty of times,” as if it’s obvious.

You glance back at Avni, and as you expect, she’s giving you a look that screams, ‘Of course Greta’s just said that…’ 

“There you go,” You point to Greta and end the conversation, acting like she helped prove your point. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow. I work the morning shift so I should be back early.”

They respond tiredly and continue watching the telly, not concerned about the late hour like you are. Neither of them have an early morning to worry about, so you won’t be surprised if you hear another film begin when you’re about to shut your eyes. 

Avni is a full-time student about to finish her degree—which her parents fund for her—so she only works here and there, doing integrated jobs within her program at University of Manchester. The only time she sees the early hours of the day is when she’s been hunched over a computer through the night, writing a paper about something you don’t understand. Since it’s the weekend and Avni’s free of class, you assume she’d sleep in.

On the other hand, Greta is like you, and opted out of A-levels and uni once completing GSCEs. She’s never been all that interested in studying, so after working as an associate at the Space NK back in Wilmslow, a position opened at the Manchester location and she stuck with it. In perfect correlation with the rest of the group also moving to the big city. 

At this point she’s a manager and is earning quite a lot—certainly more than what you make at the cafe—so her working hours can be unpredictable. But since the store never opens earlier than 10 o’clock, Greta’s rarely a morning person either.

You wake up at a concerningly early time to make it to Cafe North for 6am. It doesn’t open for another two hours, but since you’re desperate for as many shifts as possible, you take on any position necessary. This morning, your position was baker. 

It’s not a strong suit of yours, and you were only hired as a waitress, but the cafe being known for its fresh pastries made the morning shift annoyingly important. So, you often find yourself trudging in at the crack of dawn to cover for your coworkers when things come up and your boss needs you.

Cafe North helps pay your bills, since doing freelance photography work in Manchester isn’t quite enough to live comfortably. Work seems to be slowing down as the year goes on as well, so your only consistent clients are the up and coming local bands. You photograph their shows even though they barely make enough for themselves, let alone to be able to pay you fairly. 

The reason you frequent the music scene is due to the growing popularity of your favourite band—the one that happens to be made up of some of your closest friends—so of course you photograph every one of their shows. Though you refuse to let them pay you, being at their gigs leads to plenty of more work, so you manage.

Thankfully, you leave your shift at the cafe with your newest paycheque in hand. So, you stop by the bank on your journey home and deposit most of it into your savings. It’s what you do every time you get paid, and the guys sometimes make fun of how frugal it makes you. 

Their teasing persists when you walk into the pub to meet them for a gig. A morning shift and a night out all in the same day is usually a bad idea, but you run home to nap for a few hours and have tea with Avni before showing up, so you hope it isn’t a completely terrible night. 

“Come on, mate! One cocktail?! It’s Saturday night, get pissed with us,” begs Ross, who has already downed a few pints.

The seven of you; him, Matty, Hann, and George, along with you and the girls, squeeze tightly into a booth to commit to your normal routine. If the guys were playing at a pub, you’d come a couple of hours before the show to have some drinks and chat shit. If they weren’t, you’d come to some pub anyway before heading to the venue. Beer was a part of the equation either way.

Weekend shows always brought the whole crew out. The audience had more bodies and their set had a bit more length. Smaller shows sometimes had your flatmates opting to stay home—busy with school and work or just not in the mood—but you never missed any. 

You like to say you’re forced to, in order to keep the band’s Facebook updated with stills of every set, but truthfully, you never want to miss a show. You’d rather be in the crowd with your eye glued to your viewfinder than be anywhere else.

“I’m a classy woman.” you declare sarcastically, sipping your espresso martini leisurely, “Plus, I just got word that my application is being processed, as of a few days ago. Gotta save up for London if I get it, can’t be draining my bank account at every night out,”

“It’s always about London. Blah blah blah London, blah blah blah internship. Fuck off,” he drunkenly spits at your face. You laugh, not offended in the slightest since you’re used to his bluntness.

“By ‘fuck off’ he means ‘we hope you get it’, by the way,” Greta reassures you after flicking him up upside the head. It made Ross wince and whine but the alcohol in his system makes it hurt less. 

It also apparently makes his reflexes slower, as you’re able to easily steal the glass from his hand to take a few large gulps to spite his comment. Ross’s jaw drops, newly offended, and moves with haste to snatch it back from you—though it’s now almost empty.

“You deserved that,” says Adam, chuckling and enjoying his full pint.

“Thank you!” You say and then clink your martini glass to his in solidarity. The rest of the group then add on and cheers you as well, leaving Ross to walk to the bar and fetch himself another beer, sulking.

“Can I just say, I’m not gonna pull a Ross and tell you to fuck off about London, but Gret can speak for herself about this whole ‘we hope you get it’ narrative,” George clarifies, “At a happy medium I will be happy for you but also very upset that you’d be leaving us.” 

You smile at his sweetness through the fear that everyone might actually be upset at you leaving Manchester. It was hard enough to break the news that you were interested in an endeavour so separate from them. The sheer distance made it even worse. 

Which is why you lied. 

The internship Ross mentions is really in New York, not London.

Well, it could have been in London if you wanted it to be. ELLE Magazine has headquarters in both cities, and there are plenty of UK internships you qualify for. But, the program that calls to you is for international study—they provide housing for a year-long position (which is a paid one, thankfully), and you feel that the scene in New York is more exciting than anything in your home country. So, you apply. 

But, change has always been difficult for you to accept; growing up and sticking to the same people, fantasising about the same career and carrying around the same camera. You enjoy your life being that same you. 

And up until you discovered the internship, you planned to be just that. You like Manchester. You know Manchester. It’s comfortable, and has everything you need to make it in the industry. But so does New York.

The idea ignites a flame in you. Nobody would ever describe you as spontaneous, or as confident, or as a dreamer. You always feel diligent. Compliant. Following through with the plan that you’ve always had. But you want to be outstanding. Unpredictable, for once. Reaching for something so big that it’s scary.

You lie because you’re scared. What will people think of you if you fail? You think about telling the truth to the people you’re closest to and it makes you sick to your stomach. 

How they probably think that you don’t have it in you to follow through with it. That you’re a good photographer in Manchester, and won’t compare in America. That you’ll be broke and back in England within months. A two and a half hour train ride of shame back from London sounded much less frightening than an 11 hour flight back from America.

Of course, they’re actually lovely about the ELLE internship. They have so much faith in you—maybe more than you have in yourself. But they don’t know that you’ll be packing up and moving 5 time zones over. And their loveliness doesn’t put your crippling anxiety to sleep, and doesn’t stop you from creating and keeping up with the London lie. It’s your safety blanket.

“Just think of it like this, George,” you begin, “Coming down and visiting me will give you guys an excuse to play some gigs and show all of the big London labels how badly they need to sign you.”

All four boys groan at the mention of record labels. They’ve been working their asses off trying to get attention from them and it hasn’t gone very smoothly so far.

“If the sad little indies in this city won’t bat an eye at us then I doubt any fancy London ones will give a shit,” complains Matty with an eye roll. 

“For a man with such a big ego you can be so pessimistic.” Avni responds. 

You’re sitting across from Matty, so you use your knee to shove his. Though his tone is confidently spiteful, you can tell that the band’s struggle to get signed sometimes gets to him.

He looks up at you since you gain his attention, and the two of you share a small reassuring smile. Matty’s knee shoves yours back. It softens his expression. 

“I’ve got a multi-faceted personality, Avni,” he defends.

She raises her hands, accepting his statement as a fine enough rebuttal. 

“At least the place is pretty packed tonight.” Ross interferes. 

Everyone looks around and surveys the busy nature of the pub they’re about to play for. Ross has a good point, and the group’s excitement grows with the realisation. They could tell the energy would be great.

With the mention of why they’ve arrived in the first place, the four boys take note of the quickly lessening time before their set would begin. So, they finish off the last drops of what sat in their glasses and eventually begin to prepare. 

It’s not long before you’re in an uncomfortably crouched position, waiting for them to come on and begin their first song. Gret and Avni stand behind you, drinks still in hand and chatting away. You adjust the settings on your camera, making sure to up the exposure to accommodate the dark pub lighting. 

Small cheers and woops erupt from a few of the patrons who are familiar with the boys, and you raise your camera to your eye when the set begins. Every time it settles on Matty, you almost feel a sense of relief to have an excuse to watch his every move. 

It paralyses you, how natural his body and mind present themselves through the music. You watch him through the haze of cigarette smoke that floated in the air, seeing his hands dance up and down the fretboard of his guitar. They move with urgency and make pretty sounds. His eyes close when he sings and you find yourself missing the brownness of his irises when they are, sighing in solace when they open back up.

You have to remind yourself to photograph the others. They’re naturals on stage as well—and you can’t deny their talent—but they’re humble in nature. And Matty isn’t. He makes the perfect frontman; overtly confident and spilling with an amplified arrogance. It’s so easy to capture him and have the photos ooze magic. You aren’t sure if the magic comes from you or from him. 

When you’re satisfied with the amount you’ve taken, you relax to enjoy the show, quietly singing along to the lyrics to your favourite tracks. Your friends chat here and there but you stay engaged with the performance. You chase contact with Matty’s eyes, which are usually scanning the depth of the growing crowd, and have to suppress your smile when you succeed, stealing his attention for split seconds at a time.

And as quickly as it begins, it’s over. You detach yourself from your camera and carefully place it back into the bag that slings over your shoulder. Applause rings through the pub. 

Everyone sticks around for a couple of hours after the show, as the boys ride on what’s left of their post-performance adrenaline—but your eyes droop with tiredness and they can tell. Clearly, the nap you took after getting back from work wasn’t enough to keep up with your friends. 

“Falling asleep on us, are you?” notices Avni, poking at your cheek, sufficiently drunk. 

You smile softly and try to shake some energy into yourself. “Not anymore,” you say, embarrassed that they can see through your attempts to hide the fact that you’ve been up for nearly 21 hours. You’re even too knackered to sip on your drink, and the copper mug sits full of a concoction of Moscow Mule remnants mixed with melted ice in front of you. 

“Quite the grandmother tonight, Y/N.” Hann teases. 

You don’t tease him back because you can tell he just cares, and will probably suggest that you make your way home, knowing his sensibility. “Can’t help it. Been up since 5,”

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, 5 in the morning?! Doing what?!” asks Matty, who sat between you and the edge of the booth. 

“Going to my job, Matty. Have you heard of those? Jobs? Or have you not, since you’ve never been able to keep a real one?” 

The whole table ‘ooo’ at your burn and Matty shakes his head in disbelief. 

“In my humble defence, I have been helping George deliver for Flame and Wok and they do pay me now. So yeah, darling, I have,” he defends matter-of-factly. “You know, I slept for 12 hours last night. Maybe more. And for some reason I think I’m just as fucking exhausted as you,” 

You turn to him, confused. “I can’t tell if you’re trying to one-up me with how tired you are or if you’re bragging about how much sleep you got.”

“I’m trying to point out that you’re a trooper for still being up. And am also insinuating that I am very unusually tired and willing to leave if you come with. If everyone else wants to stay.” he clarifies.

Oh, you think, He’s just being sweet. 

“Thank God someone finally offered. I’m dying here,” you whine, “You lot keep having fun for me, alright? I don’t want to start being known as the buzzkill.”

Matty scooches sideways to stand up and you do the same, slipping on your denim jacket. 

“Oh, you will,” confirms George. You flip him off, and he laughs. “I’m joking. Get some sleep, love.”

You smile at the fact that underneath the sarcastic humour all of your friends share, is a synonymous deep care for each other. You’ve really lucked out. A sudden sadness pangs your mind when you think of the fact that you might be leaving them. You wipe it away before it can settle.

They all mutter farewells while you lean down to peck Avni on the cheek. You repeat the action for Greta, and then you and Matty begin heading out.

“See you at home,” he calls, waving. Everyone waves back, and then returns to their slurred banter and cold drinks.

He holds the door open for you and you step into the chill late night (almost early morning) air. You follow the pavement towards your building and walk side-by-side.

“I need to meet Wade before we get back, by the way. If that’s okay with you,” Matty admits. “He’s just waiting for me on the corner of Spears.”

Wade is Matty’s dealer, who regularly supplies him the weed that everyone often smokes together. At one point, you try to figure out a way to somehow split the cost by seven, but since Matty and George have a much more intense fixation than the rest of you, they agree to just pay for it themselves. 

So, you’re complicit, and follow him a block past your flat to where Wade was waiting. You’re retrospectively thankful that walking an extra block is the trade off for free weed.

It’s quick; you both throw a casual ‘Hi, mate,’ to the dealer and a few seconds later you’re already turning back with your arm linked in Matty’s, who had the small baggy tucked into his pocket.

You climb the dreaded stairs together and reach your floor. It’s mostly quiet between you, due to your energyless states, but before you come to your door, you mutter, “Thank you for leaving with me, Matty. I know you would rather have stayed,”

“Don’t be silly,” he responds, “I know I’m crazy, but I actually am knackered. I should be thanking you for giving me an excuse to leave.”

A smile is shared between you and you unlock your flat, sighing in contentment at the lessening proximity from you and your bed. “You’re right about being crazy.”

Matty rolls his eyes, and you send him a look that tells him it’s okay for him to head to his flat. That you’re all good and safe in yours. But before he leaves, he stops to say one more thing.

“You really should rest up. I know everyone likes taking the piss out of how much you work—especially tonight—but it really is a lot. And I get that it’s for a reason and you’re saving up or whatever. I just hope you know that we won’t be offended if you don’t come and take photos of every single show we play. It’s okay to miss them, really. You’ve seen it a million times over. If it means you can avoid 20 hour days and draining all of your energy.”

“I like coming to your shows. I don’t feel like I have to. I just want to,” you insist while taking off your boots, “But thank you. I appreciate it. ‘S very sweet,”

He accepts your answer with a gracious nod and briefly wraps an arm around your shoulder to press his lips to your cheek, then turns to find his flat. You watch him walk down the hall and finally close the door when you hear his footsteps bouncing in the stairwell. 

You have to suppress the giddiness you feel bubbling up and convince yourself that you’d feel the same way if any of the other guys had walked you home and said what he’s said—though you know that isn’t true.

Now washed up and in bed, you check your phone one last time before shutting your eyes. You see a message from Matty.

matty: Wanna to try out the stuff I picked up earlier?? It’s a new strain, needs opinions. I’ll be home all day tmrw just stop by x

y/n: beautiful 

y/n: ill text when i leave x

You think about how nice a joint sounds after the long day you’ve had. So, you agree, and fall asleep soundly.

But when you wake up the next morning—far too early—to the scariest email you’ve ever received, you’re even more in need of a smoke. Because you’re about to have a panic attack.

You’re moving to New York.

You reread the congratulatory words maybe 30 times before you can bear to look away. Tears of both happiness and fear threaten to spill from your eyes, but you blink enough times to make them disappear.

The kettle is whistling in the kitchen and you can hear it from your room. It’s probably Greta. You wonder if she boiled enough water for you and Avni to make cups as well, since you’re usually up by now. You can pick apart two sets of footsteps. They’re both up. 

What if they can hear that you’re up? What if your thoughts are so loud that they can hear those, too? You quiet down your quick breathing and hide yourself and your screen beneath your covers. Just in case.

You’ll have to start packing soon. Book a plane ticket. You’ve never booked a plane ticket by yourself. What if it’s hard? What if you can’t find your passport? You get up and rummage through your bedside table to find it. It’s exactly where you left it.

Eventually, after hiding out and panicking for what seems like a couple of minutes but is actually many hours, you let yourself cry. You let it all out in heaving sobs. The girls don’t hear you or question the fact that it’s past noon and you’re still in your room. They assume you’re catching up on sleep. But you’re wide awake.

You think about how bad you’ve been wanting this. You want it so bad. You would never be able to forgive yourself if you let your fear ruin it. 

So, you compose yourself. Wipe your eyes dry and sniff up the snot. Get dressed, plaster a normal smile on your face. You ask Greta and Avni if they want to come to the boys’ flat with you for a smoke. You tell them that Matty’s got a new strain he wants you to try. They agree after asking if you’ve had a good night’s sleep. You lie and say yes. 

y/n: heading over now

y/n: and bringing the others if u don’t mind

You need an excuse to have everyone in the same room again. An opportunity to tell them the news. You’re not sure how long you can go before it eats you alive. 

matty: Course

matty: Door’s unlocked

Matty doesn’t mind, but is weirdly disappointed to know that it won’t just be you and him. He calls Ross, Hann, and George out to the lounge to let them know that everyone’s coming, to act like he meant for it to be a group thing all along. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, so the boys don’t question it.

To be fair, hanging out one-on-one wasn’t out of the ordinary either. He’s just worried that you might find it odd for him to like it better that way, versus seeing the other girls. So he keeps that part to himself.

Everything’s normal when you arrive. Matty explains that the joints you puff and pass are supposed to give you a more concise high. Less scattered but definitely less alert, and maybe more focused. He thinks it might be good for writing, or something. You’re not sure. You just inhale and let it happen and then think in circles about how to start mentioning what you need to mention. It blares at your conscience. 

Thankfully, at the perfect time, Avni asks you a question about the cafe. Which you know you’ll have to quit soon. It’s the perfect segue.

She’s complaining about accidentally volunteering to organise an event for her colleagues before winter break came along. “Thought I’d just be setting up the place but now I’ve got to plan the whole program of honourees and even sort out the catering,”

“Catering? Fuck, that’s fancy.” sneers Ross.

“Right? I think I’ll plan it at an odd time so that I can just get coffee and pastries, or something,” Avni lazily says, blowing smoke out of the corner of her mouth, “Does the cafe do catering? Like big carafes of coffee and tea?”

“We do,” you answer with hesitance.

“Oh, gorgeous! Would you be able to ask your boss to sort me a few? So I can use some of my budget on other stuff?” she asks.

Your heartbeat quickens. Now’s your moment.

“I would, but—” You cough and bite at the skin on your fingertips to stall, “I—Um, I won’t be working there anymore. In December.” You finally sputter out.

Everyone’s in their own little world as you hang out; George busy mixing something on his laptop, Greta bringing over her latest crochet project to finish (hoping she doesn’t get too high and fuck up the pattern), the others making casual conversation and enjoying the company. But they stop when they hear the words leave your mouth, and there’s a moment of eerie silence when the gears in their heads grind to figure out what you mean.

“Have you been sacked?” asks Adam. You shake your head no. “...You’re quitting?”

You nod slowly, searching for some sort of release in each of your friends’ expressions, hoping they figure it out before you have to say it on your own and out loud, since you haven’t done that yet. But nobody says anything, and you can’t bear any more silence. 

“I got the internship.”

A sense of shock blanketed the room before Ross finally jumps out of his seat to tackle you in an embrace. You grin, a wave of relief hitting you, and flipping the morale in the October air on its head.

“Are you fucking kidding me?! How long have you known?!” He screams in your ear, and you wince at the volume, though you can’t help but giggle with joy as your friends erupt in praise.

He climbs off of you and you stand so that everyone can have their turn wrapping their arms around you.

“I got the email early this morning and have not been able to function since,” You explain, “Genuinely had a panic and hid underneath my bed sheets for about 3 hours before I could face the fact that it’s actually happening,” 

“We have to celebrate! I should go get a bottle of champagne. Someone come with me, please. Balloons? Streamers? Do you want a cake, love? I can get a cake,” Avni rambles, dragging Greta up from her seat and heading for the door.    

Your cheeks hurt and your head spins. 

“Please, Av, you don’t have to do all that.” You argue. 

Matty’s the last to hug you so he leaves one of his arms draped around the back of your neck, standing close. He leans his head sideways and your temples touch. He leaves his head there. 

“Please, Y/N,” Greta copies you, “You deserve it. None of us work tonight, why can’t we party?!”

“This buzzkill narrative is really catching up to you…” George buts in, “And don’t you want to spend time with us before you leave? There’s not much time left, you know,”

Your cheeks finally relax, and you’re brought back down to Earth. Fuck. He’s right. The room falls silent as they all make the same realisation. 

You feel your nose get fizzy with emotion. You can’t move on and let them celebrate you without telling them the truth.

“Yeah, you’re right. There’s also one more thing you should know. About the internship,” you start nervously. 

Everyone looks you in the eye but you can’t dare to meet anyone’s stare. They sense the lighthearted and energetic mood shift, and their mouths fall flat. Why are they not smiling anymore? But there isn’t anything left for you to do besides explain yourself.

“It’s with ELLE Magazine. They have a head office in London, and I applied through ELLE UK, which is why I said the position would relocate me there. But, in my offer, they gave me the option to intern there, or at the headquarters in New York,” 

Your breath shakes as you inhale.

“And after some thinking, I’ve decided to choose New York.”

[emwheezie]

Re-uploading character lore with name change updates!

This story follows the friendship of Lennon and Tony as they take the world head on, trying to make music together. The story is based in Cambridge/Somerville Massachusetts in 2009.

Lennon McManus (born June 21, 1986) is the son of a retired rockstar. Len feels like he's living in his dad's shadow and has a lot to live up to. He swears that he'll be a better musician than his dad ever was. Lennon wants nothing to do with his dad, even going as far to change his last name so he won't be associated with him.

Lennon is an extremely talented musician, spending most of his time learning new instruments (or playing Call of Duty and Mortal Kombat). Lennon really doesn't even need anyone else to be in his band, he could literally just do the whole thing himself, but he falls short when it comes to writing lyrics. He thinks his lyrics suck, (and they kind of do). A lot of that comes from insecurity, he doesn't feel he's had enough life experience to write interesting lyrics.

Lennon dropped out of high school during his sophomore year. Education is kind of a sore topic for Lennon. He didn't care about school, but the dude lives down the street from Harvard University and there are so many great colleges in the Boston area. As he gets older, he'll always wonder what could've been if he put more effort in and finished high school.

While hanging out in the area, or walking through Harvard Yard, sometimes he'll be stopped by tourists asking for directions. He lives in the area so of course he knows where everything is, but will instead reply, "Do I look like I attend school here???!" while gesturing to his dirty band tee and ripped jeans. It's a bit upsetting when this happens.

Lennon's kind of lazy and gross and only cares about things he's interested in doing. Lennon's really just a little gremlin. At 23, he stills lives at home with his father in Somerville, MA. He can't drive despite being gifted a car for his 16th birthday, (his father is kind of rich) it's just been sitting in the driveway the whole time.

[loveinhawkins]

For the made up fic title game "1983 is Calling" bc 1983 by Neon Trees randomly came up on my Spotify lol

god i love this title so much. i think 1983 is calling has a Steve Harrington character study written all over it.

-

In the November of 1983, Steve Harrington’s world falls out from underneath him. When his feet finally find solid ground again, everything looks a little different, like he’s an Alice who’s grown just slightly too tall for his surroundings.

And maybe most people in his shoes would chalk that up to finding out that monsters are real, that a kid can come back from the dead. But Steve knows that’s not the whole truth.

What’s really tripping him up is the dangerously quiet anger he didn’t really know he was capable of; he spends many sleepless nights staring up at the ceiling, hearing his father’s words come out in his voice, slipping through clenched teeth, finish the sentence.

It’d be easy to brush it off after the quite frankly insane series of events he’s lived through, to claim that wasn’t me.

But it was. It was.

It’s not a dramatic transformation. If anyone was really looking out for it, maybe they’d notice him being just a touch more reserved in school. Slower to react, more careful with his words.

He doesn’t sit with Tommy and Carol in the cafeteria—and while there’s an ache in that decision which he steadfastly ignores, he finds that he doesn’t really mind sitting alone sometimes.

In the quiet, he has more time to think. He tries to keep his assumptions in check, finds that he cares less and less about cliques—does his best to ensure that his first thought about someone isn’t a judgement.

He remembers the casual indifference he had when watching Jonathan Byers put up a poster for his missing brother. His unbothered drawl, God, that’s depressing.

Never again, he decides.

Above all, he doesn’t want to be cruel.

One lunch, he sits with Jonathan, and they swap pudding cups, Steve trading chocolate for butterscotch.

“I… listen, Jonathan, I shouldn’t… shouldn’t have said what—what I said,” he starts, awkwardly, inadequately. “About. About your mom, and your family, and…”

It horrifies him still, the words that came out so easily, never mind if they were echoes of things he heard.

Joyce Byers is one of the strongest people he knows.

“Thanks,” Jonathan says, delayed. He smiles tightly, but Steve knows it’s not personal, that the guy’s still on edge from… everything.

Steve smiles back.

But there’s still a thorn that he hasn’t quite prised out.

“And I…” He lowers his voice. “I shouldn’t have called you that. Y’know.”

Jonathan’s eyebrows go up. “No,” he says mildly. “You shouldn’t have.”

“I…” Steve rubs a hand over his mouth. “I hate that… there’s nothing bad about…”

Jesus, what’s wrong with him?

Jonathan’s expression softens. He blinks, and he has that pensive look on his face, like he’s seeing the world through a camera lens—like the flash has lit up something unknown.

“I agree,” he says quietly, and then he digs into his pudding and asks genuinely about Steve’s holiday plans, talks about getting Will an Atari for Christmas.

At New Year, Steve is abruptly conscious of the fact that he really, really needs to look like he’s having a good time. He doesn’t want to analyse who the performance is for. If it’s for himself, he’s not convinced.

But drink dulls the anxiety; he laughs a lot, sways with Nancy in his arms because that’s what he’s supposed to do.

Even in the euphoria of the midnight countdown, he can see Nancy smiling too brightly, like her face might crack with the strain.

Do you feel it, too? he almost asks. Are we always gonna be back there? Are we always gonna be running from it?

The semester after winter break starts off reluctantly.

There’s a few classes with mixed year groups: they get an absolute horror of a substitute teacher in second period, one who insists on them copying things word for word from the blackboard. She makes her funeral march down the desks and shouts at a student for mis-spelling ‘January.’

“Psst,” comes a voice, before she reaches Steve.

He looks over to see Eddie Munson in the seat next to him, handing over an eraser.

“Wrong year, Harrington,” he whispers.

Steve glances down at his paper. Sure enough, 1983 stares back at him from the top margin.

Steve scoffs. “Figures.” He uses the eraser and passes it back to Eddie. “Thanks.”

“No problem. I wish we were still on vacation, too.”

“Eddie Munson.” The teacher slams a ruler down on Eddie’s desk so hard that Steve flinches. “Shall I send you outside for talking?”

“Oh, no, ma’am,” Eddie says, without missing a beat, “I’ll surely cry. Profusely.”

As other students stifle giggles, Steve manages to write the date down correctly before the teacher peers over his shoulder.

He can’t help noticing that even with the eraser, there’s still an imprint: 1983 faintly engraved on the page.

Well, Steve thinks wryly, so it goes.