#but yeah there was something Not Great going on there between Richard and his wife

[octoberobserver]

But I Finally Made My Way Home

(Read on ao3)

Mr. and Mrs. Tozier hadn’t changed a bit.

Well, they had aged thirty years, obviously, but apart from that, they were exactly the same as Eddie remembered them. Warm and lively and loud. Just like another Tozier he knew.

“Really, Richard, I can carry my own—Eddie Kaspbrak as I live and breathe!”

He barely had time to smile before he was wrapped up in a giant, surprisingly-strong hug from Richie’s mom as she and Went stopped at the car, their son trailing along behind them with an amused expression on his face.

Their eyes met over Mrs Tozier’s shoulder and Richie promptly pulled a face that Eddie, before he could catch himself, childishly returned.

He heard Went chuckle, no doubt having seen it. He forced himself not to blush.

“Mrs. Tozier, hi,” he patted Richie’s mom’s back gently, “it’s so nice to see you again.”

“Oh Eddie,” she scolded, tapping him on the shoulder, “none of that Mrs. Tozier, business. Makes me sound old. It’s Maggie.”

He chuckled as she gave him another squeeze.

“Geez ma, you didn’t hug me this long,” Richie smirked as he opened the trunk and began loading the suitcases in.

“Let him breathe, Margaret,” Went piped up, eyeing them both, his amusement identical to his son's.

“Hush you two, I haven’t seen this boy since he was, well, a boy,” Maggie broke the hug, leaning back to meet Eddie’s eye, “can you blame me for being a little…”

She trailed off, seemingly just taking him in. Eddie tried not to squirm under her bespectacled gaze.

“Eddie,” Went caught his attention, holding out his hand for him to shake.

“Mr. Toz—”

Went’s eyebrow raised.

“Went,” he amended with a sheepish grin, shaking his hand.

“It is good to see you again, son,” Went squeezed his hand firmly before enveloping him in a short hug, slapping his back.

Eddie could feel both Richie and Maggie’s eyes on them. Despite him being a carbon copy of his father, Richie had his mother’s eyes. He swallowed down the inexplicable lump in his throat as he awkwardly patted the older man’s shoulder in return.

“You too.”

Went broke away, nodding down at him with something in his gaze that Eddie couldn’t identify before turning to Richie.

“You got eggs at the house, Rich? The portions on airplanes are always so tiny.”

“Yeah, dad, we’ve got eggs,” Richie chuckled, exchanging another glance with Eddie before crossing to open the passenger-side door for his mom, (her car sickness took precedence over Richie’s desire to badger Eddie about his driving), and climbing into the backseat.

“Take ‘er away, Eds. Breakfast awaits!”

~*~

Breakfast was a roaring success if the empty plates and pleased hums were anything to go by. Eddie again shoved down the irrational swell of mixed emotions in his chest, pouring more coffee into Maggie’s cup and finishing off his toast.

“That was great, Eddie, thank you,” Went rubbed his stomach as he took a sip of his orange juice, “I really liked the garlic pepper. Nice touch.”

He smiled, giving a half-shrug, “Glad you liked it. I use it instead of salt when I can.”

Before he knew it, he was launching into all his new explorations in the kitchen, no doubt talking Went’s ear off. But when he paused for breath, he realized that actually, Went seemed genuinely interested in what he was talking about, both he and his wife nodding encouragingly and jumping in with questions every so often.

Something warm settled in his chest as Richie leaned closer to him, piping up, “Eds is a natural in the kitchen. When he first moved in, he thought he couldn’t boil an egg, but now he’s making his own Pat Fruity. Which I’m told is a big deal.”

“Pâte Feuilletée,” Eddie corrected with a roll of his eyes, “and it’s not a big deal, your Twitter fans are exaggerating. I just—” his sentence caught in his throat as he noticed that both Maggie and Went were still patiently listening to him. “I uh, I had a lot of time on my hands while in between careers and watched a random YouTube video one day. It’s been a lot of trial and error but I do my best…”

Richie reached out and squeezed his shoulder.

“Don’t be so modest, Eds,” he mock-scolded before turning to his parents. “Just wait for dinner. His risotto kicks ass. Tastes just like yours, ma.”

Maggie smiled, bright eyes flickering between them.

He flushed.

“Well, I should hope so,” she took a sip of her coffee, “it is my recipe.”

Eddie felt rather than saw Richie whirl around to gape at him. He kept his own eyes on his plate.

“What?! You got the recipe off Mags? You didn’t tell me that!”

He cleared his throat, drumming his fingers on his cup, refusing to meet his eye.

“She told me not to.”

He didn’t have to glance at Richie to know he and his mom were sharing some sort of look he didn’t understand. They did that a lot over FaceTime too, but in real life, it was much more potent.

“I wanted to see if you’d notice,” Maggie laughed, waving her hand dismissively before gathering up her and Went’s empty plates.

Eddie stood, “Maggie, you don’t have to—”

“You cooked Eddie, hush,” she smiled before clapping her hands and leveling them both with a pointed stare. “Now what is this I hear about The Losers’ Game Night?”

~*~

Turned out that Margaret Tozier was an absolute beast at online Pictionary.

“Alright, you two are definitely cheating.”

Eddie snorted as Maggie threw a handful of popcorn at her son, affronted.

“Richard Wentworth Tozier, I am no cheat,” she exclaimed as a tinny chorus of agreement sounded from Eddie’s laptop.

The rest of the Losers filled the screen, each couple occupying a tile in their group video chat—Ben and Bev in New York, Stan and Patty in Georgia, and Bill and Mike just twenty minutes away in downtown LA.

“How would they even cheat at Pictionary anyway, Rich?” Bev asked, leaning closer to the camera, bewildered. “I think you’re just pissed that you’re a shitty artist.”

“Right?” Eddie jumped in before Richie could defend himself. “How the fuck was I supposed to guess Shawshank Redemption with your drawing of an inflatable tube man being stabbed?”

“He was being shanked, Eduardo,” Richie sighed, “obviously.”

“Oh obviously,” he groused back, rolling his eyes before swirling the mostly-melted ice around in his empty glass. “You want another old-fashioned, Maggie?”

She grinned at him, eyes glinting.

“I would love one Eddie, sweetheart, thank you.”

Richie elbowed him, “You tryin’ to get my mom drunk, Kaspbrak?”

Eddie elbowed him back harder, standing, “Wouldn’t dream of it, Trashmouth. She’d drink us all under the table, and you know it.”

“Cheers to that,” Went piped up cheerfully, definitely more tipsy than his wife, raising his half-full glass in a toast.

“Oh Trashmouth,” Maggie chuckled, looking from him to the laptop, “I forgot where Richie had gotten that nickname. One of you gave it to him in grade school, right?”

Richie nodded. “Yep, that was an Edward Kaspbrak original.”

Eddie's cheeks were noticeably flushed before he made his way over to the counter to start refilling glasses.

“That’s right,” Maggie was murmuring almost to herself. “I still can’t believe I managed to forget that. Forget The Losers Club in general. You were all so tight-knit, always together. All the sleepovers you used to have in our basement. How I used to bake those cupcakes you’d bring to the quarry. The clubhouse you thought we didn't know about. I just…don’t understand how I could forget all that…?”

There was a beat of silence.

He watched Eddie hold his breath, shoulders tense as he kept his back to the table.

“Do you still bake those cupcakes? I guarantee they’d still be a hit.”

Patty Uris was the best.

Once Maggie was successfully distracted, bouncing from the topic of her own culinary prowess to (to Eddie’s embarrassment) her gushing about his risotto they’d eaten for dinner earlier, he turned back around, gently depositing another drink on the table next to her and crossing back over to sit beside Richie.

Richie could feel how tense he was beside him, as he always was whenever someone outside of the group brought up the Derry-related-amnesia. It had been an adjustment, for all of them. But at least they knew why they forgot. Richie’s parents, Ben’s mom, Stan’s mom, and Bev’s aunt weren’t as lucky (or unlucky, depending on how you looked at it,) however, and as the Losers reconnected with each other’s families, were often astonished that they had seemingly forgotten all about their little town in Maine.

And the Losers who went along with it.

“Stanley, your mother and I were just reminiscing the other day about your and Richie’s first day of school,” Maggie chuckled, beaming at the laptop where Stan was shaking his head good-naturedly. “About how you’d both bonded over peanut butter sandwiches and decided that made you best friends for life.”

Margaret Tozier and Andrea Uris were Facebook friends, apparently. Arlene Hanscom too. Because of course they were.

“I still stand by that,” Richie winked at Stan, “that’s how we got Bill too. The lure of your peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, ma. Not Eds, though. That took some outta the box thinking.”

“I wasn’t allowed peanut butter,” Eddie predictably grumbled, evoking laughter, “the cherry Nerds worked, though.”

Now that he could, Richie remembered as clear as day, how a tiny kid with dark hair and the biggest, brownest eyes he had ever seen, shyly stared over at him and Stan as they shared out their lunch on the second week of first grade. He remembered how six-year-old him had looked up and met those eyes, a box of Nerds in his hand, and before he could think it through, he raised them up and shook them.

Eddie had stormed over at that, going from zero to sixty as he ranted how he wasn’t a dog, and you shouldn’t shake candy at people, but yes please, he would like some, and no sorry, he didn’t have any candy but he did have a yoyo that Richie could play with as long as he washed his hands first because they were dirty.

He was pretty sure he fell in love with him right then and there.

“I don’t think you were allowed those either, Spagheds,” he bumped his shoulder, sipping his drink before clapping his hands together. “Alright, Losers, who’s next?”

All in all, Maggie and Went won with Stan and Patty coming in a close second. Richie and Eddie came in last to Eddie’s chagrin as usually they either won or came at least second during most of their game nights. But unlike Last Loser Standing, Charades, Celebrity, The Voting Game, Trivia, and Cards Against Humanity, Pictionary wasn’t their strength, apparently. Or really, it wasn’t Richie’s.

“How was that last one a T-Rex?! It had six legs!”

So he wasn’t the next Banksy. Sue him. He had other talents.

“I gave it the tiny arms, Eddie! And I drew Jeff Goldblum with his shirt open! What else do you need?”

“What else do I…?” Eddie gaped at him as the Losers all laughed, calling out their goodbyes and goodnights.

“Later guys! Eddie, try not to strangle him!”

“Bye Mr. and Mrs. Tozier, good luck with those two.”

“Good game, everybody. Deep breaths, Ed!”

“See you all for brunch tomorrow if Eddie hasn’t killed Richie by then!”

Went and Maggie waved and called their goodbyes back before Richie closed down the laptop, grinning wide and a little dopily as Eddie continued to tipsily rant at him.

“Clearly you didn’t get either of your parents’ drawing abilities. Your lamb looked like a cloud on sticks.”

“Well, how else would I draw sheep, Michelangelo? Huh? Tell me.”

“You two haven’t changed a bit.”

He and Eddie froze as Went drained the last of his drink, chuckling at them loudly.

“Right?” his wife agreed, standing up far too fast for someone who had drunk quicker than any of them, “it’s like the Hungry Hungry Hippos debacle all over again.”

She held up her hands as they both began to argue their respective points from back in the ‘80s.

“Buh, buh, buh,” she shook her head at them, “I had my fill of that argument back in Derry, thank you. It’s our bedtime, boys. Come on Went, up and at ‘em.”

She reached down and hauled her husband (who had at least fifty pounds and six inches on her) out of his chair with ease. Eddie leaped out of his seat too, leading the way down the corridor, talking hand towels and spare blankets and eucalyptus soap all the way. Richie took up the rear, watching his parents and Eddie interact quietly, something warm and fond and very, very inconvenient settling in his chest.

“Thank you, Eddie. You’re such a good host,” Maggie murmured as they halted at the guest room (which was mostly used as Eddie’s home office these days), her eyes a little bleary with booze and fatigue and affection.

Richie caught his gaze over the top of his mother’s head as she took a step forward, hands raised to clasp both sides of his face.

“Oh, how did I ever forget about little Eddie Kaspbrak?” she asked herself, patting his cheek gently. “Richie never stopped waxing poetic about you when you were kids. It was so cute how much he—”

“Lies, slander, hearsay,” Richie cut across her, his entire body flushing hot as he unceremoniously shoved Eddie back down the hallway, a hasty, “Goodnight, parentals!” thrown over his shoulder.

He could hear Eddie’s soft laughter waft into the kitchen as he quickly followed him, almost crashing into his back when he halted suddenly, whirling around to face him.

“You actually did have a crush on me.”

The words themselves were not surprising. The fact that they could still cause a crescendo in his pulse, even after all this time, was.

He had told him, one night a couple of months ago after a few beers, in the quiet of their living room, the words bursting from him like a flooded dam. He hadn’t planned on it, but Eddie had been feeling particularly shitty about his recent coming out—"I'm a neurotic hypochondriac with trust issues and trauma out the wazoo, Rich! Who the fuck would find that attractive?" and Richie, as always, was eager to reassure him—”You know, I had a crush on you once upon a time. Neuroses and all…” Thankfully, he had managed to put a lid on it before he word-vomited the whole truth of his feelings out, but still.

Eddie finally knew (part of) his oldest secret.

They had left it at that.

Eddie, for once, really hadn’t said much.

And Richie, same as always, turned his heartfelt feelings into a joke.

All in all, he had had worse rejections. Shock and silence were better than anger and disgust.

He rubbed the back of his neck, stepping over to the kitchen island.

"Uh, yeah, Eds. Pretty sure I told you that already, even without my motormouth mom’s input.”

A gorgeous tinge of red painted his cheeks as he shrugged, shuffling over to the stovetop kettle to pour the gross sleepy time tea he drank most nights.

“I know yeah, but—it just...still surprises me. Like, out of all of the Losers, all the kids in Derry, little Richie Tozier chose the hyperactive hypochondriac to crush on? Seriously?"

He forced himself to shrug, staring at some forgotten popcorn on the coffee table.

“You had an appeal, Eds. What can I say?”

That you’re ass-deep in love with him and still want to be Mr. Richie Kaspbrak and have his rescue puppies?

"It was a five-minute thing somewhere in between psycho clowns and starting High School," he instead retold the lie he had been trying to convince Eddie (and himself) was true as airily as he could. "Something that broke up my hero-worship of Bill. And was soon surpassed by my giant heart boner for Bobby Wilkins until we moved."

Eddie stilled at his words, something etched on his face that Richie couldn't read.

"Right," he nodded, no longer looking at him, his mouth twisted in that same expression Richie didn’t recognize but wasn’t particularly psyched about.

Shit.

“See ya in the morning, Rich,” he continued, still not looking at him, taking his steaming mug in hand and shuffling past him. “Don’t be late getting up. Brunch with Bill and Mike is at 11:30.”

With that, he left the kitchen, the sound of his grandpa slippers on the hardwood floor echoing down the hallway.

Richie stood, rooted to the spot, staring after him for a long, long time, feeling yet again, like his stupid Trashmouth had said the wrong thing.

~*~

In a very unlike him move, sleep-deprived and all, Richie was up by 9:30. Granted, he was still the last to be showered and dressed, but still. It was over their very-light breakfast that good ol’ Mags dropped another bombshell of a question that had him wondering what he had done to incur this level of probing from his usually nonchalant parents.

“So when do I get to meet this mystery man you’re seeing?” His mom asked with that gleam in her eye that always had him suspicious.

He cleared his throat, shifting a little in his seat and trying to ignore how Eddie’s elbow brushed against his on the table.

“Uh, we're not really at the ‘Meet the Parents’ stage, ma. We’re still in the ‘Mystery Men’ or ‘Reality Bites’ stage.”

Maggie looked to Eddie.

“They’re all Ben Stiller movies. He’s being evasive,” he helpfully supplied before refilling his glass of disgusting kale smoothie.

Maggie turned her attention back to Richie.

“Margaret,” Went patted her hand, “we said we wouldn’t pry.”

She leveled her husband with a deadpan stare.

“Yes, Wentworth, we did say that, but this is hardly prying,” she sighed, tipping her glass of orange juice at him, “is it so bad for a mother to want to know what the man who’s wooing my son is called? Is a first name really too much?”

“‘Wooing’?” he repeated, baffled. “Who am I, Lizzy Bennet?”

Eddie snorted into his coffee. The traitor.

Maggie rolled her eyes in a way that made Richie remember that he was more like her than he realized.

“Well, it’s just you never bring anyone home, sweetheart, and you’re out now, so I thought that maybe your mother might finally be allowed to know—”

“Jamie. His name is Jamie. And he’s not ‘wooing’ me. It’s been a few dinners,” Richie interjected, narrowing his eyes at her and pointedly ignoring his best friend's heavy presence at his side, “that the end of the interrogation, Detective Tozier?”

She blinked, confusion swimming across her face as she glanced at Eddie and back to Richie, looking as if she wanted to say more before wincing apologetically and shaking her head.

“Sorry, honey,” she leaned forward and kissed his temple. “I didn’t mean to push. I’ll drop it. Once you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Yeah, that was the problem though, wasn’t it?

He wasn’t happy.

Or well, he was happy, but that had nothing to do with the handful of very mediocre dates he had reluctantly gone on with sitcom actor Jamie O’Connor at the insistence of his manager and bane of his existence, Steve Covall, and more to do with the man sitting beside him, trying and failing to finish a crossword puzzle.

“Torch song,” he muttered, looking down at the newspaper, “four across, two words, nine letters, ‘tune about unrequited love?’ It’s ‘torch song.’”

You’d know all about those, wouldn’t you Trashmouth?

The pen paused, piercing the paper a little before Eddie looked up, blinking at him.

“Oh. Uh, yeah. That looks right.”

He hurriedly scratched it in before finally conceding, sliding it over to Went who made grabby hands at it, already holding his own pen.

“Let’s see what we got here,” he mumbled more to himself than anyone else, a determined glint in his eye.

Richie took another sip of his too-hot coffee, trying to shove down his sudden lovesick melancholy and looking ahead to the day.

At least Bill and Mike would be a good distraction.

~*~

Unsurprisingly, they were a fantastic distraction. Mike was his warm and charming self and Bill was the perfect mix of tour guide and nostalgic suck-up. Before he knew it, they had bid goodbye to them both (Bill having a dinner date with his literary agent and dragging Mike with him for support) and were back at his and Eddie’s condo helping his mom prepare dinner.

“Nope, no way, Eddie, you are banished from this kitchen,” Maggie was waving a spatula at both Eddie and Went as Richie stayed firmly out of it. “You've done enough already. You and Went go tinker with that car you were telling him about. He hasn’t stopped gushing about it since we got here.”

Eddie threw a quick glance at Richie before shrugging, a small smile spreading across his face.

“Okay, if you're sure. Thanks. Follow me, Went. She’s in the back.”

Richie snorted loudly.

“Go, leave us for your true love, Kaspbrak. I get it. I’ll always be second to a '69 Chevy Camaro.”

Weirdly, Eddie refrained from snarkily retorting over his shoulder like he usually would. He had been uncharacteristically quiet all day actually, not rising to Richie’s many, many, attempts at baiting, but he tried not to dwell on it too much, figuring Eddie was just trying to watch what he said in front of his parents. Not that he needed to, Mags and Went clearly adored him.

(Guess it ran in the family.)

“Preheat the oven please, Rich,” his mom broke him from his reverie as she took out the ingredients she had just bought at the store.

They moved around each other just like old times, Richie assisting his mom with the chopping and dicing of vegetables, while Mags tackled the tougher stuff, browning the beef and assembling the pasta in a much neater fashion than he could ever manage. It was when the lasagna was about five minutes from being done, the scent of meat and cheese wafting through the air and rumbling his stomach, that she squinted at him.

“So, Valentine’s Day is tomorrow. Do you and ‘Jamie’ have any plans?”

Richie straightened up from where he was checking on the garlic bread. Something tingled in the back of his neck. His very own version of Spidey senses. ‘Mom’s up to something’ senses. Though that didn’t have the same ring to it.

“Why did you say his name like that?”

Maggie stared at him for a beat before taking a breath and stepping closer to him, voice quiet.

“Oh Richie really, I wasn’t born yesterday. I know who ‘Jamie’ actually is. You and Eddie are hardly subtle. You never were.”

He blinked.

“What?”

She rolled her eyes at him, poking him in the shoulder.

“Don’t play dumb, it doesn’t suit you,” she gave another poke before grabbing some plates down from the kitchen cabinet. “It’s okay, I know about Eddie. There’s no need to hide it from me. I’ve known you two would end up together since you were ten years old."

He short-circuited.

Oh, shit.

“Mom...what are you talking about?”

A line formed between her eyebrows.

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry about earlier. I was only teasing to let you and Eddie know it was okay to tell us.”

Dread dropped like a boulder in his stomach.

Oh, no.

“Tell you what?”

You really need her to say it, dipshit?

She stared at him as if he had grown an extra head.

“That you’re dating.”

Richie’s heart panged in his chest, his throat suddenly dry, every inch of his skin prickling as he forced a breath into his lungs.

“Me and Eddie are not dating, ma.”

The words practically echoed around the room.

Maggie blinked, eyebrows climbing up her forehead.

“Richie,” she gave a little jittery laugh, disbelieving, “I’ve seen you two together. Have heard and seen both over the last year…what do you mean you’re not dating? You’ve built a home together. You are more coupley than your father and I were when we first got together.”

Richie’s entire body was on fire. His hands started to shake. He clenched them at his sides as his eyes darted nervously out towards the door that led to the garage.

“It’s been a while but, I have been going on dates with a guy called Jamie,” he rasped. “We’ve…it’s not…I’m not dating Eddie. I was never dating Eddie. I will never date Eddie.”

“But, when you were kids—”

“We’re not kids anymore,” he argued, beads of sweat breaking out on the back of his neck, “it’s not like that. We’re best friends. Roommates. Business partners. That’s it.”

She let out a breath at that, her brow furrowed, looking oddly crestfallen.

“Oh. My mistake.”

A tense silence draped over them. A potent mix of emotions swirled in his gut, making him feel sick.

“I’ll just…” Maggie waved a hand over her shoulder, “go call the boys for dinner.”

With that, she gently patted Richie’s shoulder and walked quickly out of the kitchen, heading towards the garage.

He watched her go, taking in choaked breaths.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

~*~

“Oh, she’s a beaut, Eddie.”

Eddie tried and failed not to preen under Went’s awestruck reaction to his restoration project—the well-loved classic car he had bought on a whim (with Richie’s encouragement) in celebration of his divorce being finalized last year and had steadily worked on since.

“Thanks, Went,” he grinned, rubbing a cloth against the already shining hood, “it’s been fun getting her back in shape.”

“I remember you had an interest in cars as a kid,” Went remarked as he walked around to the trunk, “you helped me change the oil in the old Cortina a few times. And were always tinkering with Richie’s beat-up truck.”

Eddie laughed, the memories swirling around in the back of his head.

“Oh god, that truck was a lost cause. It broke down every second day.”

Went’s laughter joined his, he shaking his head.

“Yeah, he was so proud of it, though. He saved up for two years straight working at the Aladdin and sweeping up at Bernie’s, remember?”

“Oh yeah, we hardly saw him our entire sophomore year. He was the first to get his license out of all of us,” Eddie murmured, thinking fondly back on the first time he saw Richie pull up outside his house, hollering at him about a Loser road trip.

It ended up being just the two of them.

And they promptly broke down on the edges of town.

It had still been one of the best days of Eddie’s young life, though.

“He taught me how to drive stick,” he marveled under his breath, the memory washing over him.

“That’s right!” Went exclaimed, eyes alight with mirth. “I remember how proud he was. You were fearless, kid, ‘cause Richie was a terrible teacher.”

Eddie chuckled, reminiscing on the many, many failed lessons that Richie attempted to give him in direct rebellion to his mother who refused to let him even participate in Driver’s Ed.

“You two woulda followed each other to the ends of the Earth.”

He startled at the words, though he really shouldn’t have. They were true. Had been then and still were now.

“Yeah,” he murmured in agreement, watching out of the corner of his eye as Went came to stand next to him.

"You know, Eddie,” he cleared his throat, still looking at the car. “Maggie and I are grateful that our son finally has someone who makes him happy."

His head shot up.

"Oh uh, yeah, I think he and Jamie are—"

"I meant you, Eddie," Went injected, wiping his hands in the already oil-stained rag before turning to level him with a serious look that Eddie couldn’t ever remember seeing before. “Since you've been back in his life, it's like we have the old Richie back. He's lighter. Smiles more and means it. He's just...happy again in a way I haven't seen in a long, long time. And I know a lot of that is down to you. So, thank you, son."

He was not going to cry in a garage in front of his Camaro and his best friend's dad. He wasn't.

But it was a near thing.

“‘Course,” he rasped, his throat a little hoarse, his eyes stinging. “He…he uh…”

Fuck it.

“He makes me happy too. Always has.”

There was that look on Went’s face again. The same he had seen Maggie direct at him more than once too. Something knowing and content and something that should have terrified him but somehow didn’t.

“I’m glad, Eddie,” Went raised a hand to clasp his shoulder but faltered, wincing at the oil stains.

“I’m gonna wash up over here, that okay?” he jerked his head over his shoulder at the sink that Eddie had installed a while back.

“Yeah,” he gave a slight cough before stepping back towards the stairs. “I’ll head upstairs, get washed up for dinner too.”

He climbed the short staircase, reaching out to push open the garage door that led back into the kitchen when he heard his name.

“—was only teasing to let you and Eddie know it was okay to tell us.”

“Tell you what?”

“That you’re dating.”

Eddie froze, hand suspended in the air, inches from the door.

Maggie thinks…

His heart hammered against his ribcage as he waited for Richie to reply to his mother.

It had been tough this morning, laughing along with the Toziers as they teased their son about his newfound relationship with Jamie. Sure, it had been hard for him to keep being reminded of Richie’s one-time childhood crush on him that had long since dissipated, but it was another thing entirely to be constantly aware of the fact that the man he was trying so hard not to be in love with was actively dating someone else.

And now…

“Me and Eddie are not dating, ma.”

Those words, as true as they were, still had heavy dread sinking in his gut.

“Richie, I’ve seen you two together. Have heard and seen both over the last year…what do you mean you’re not dating? You’ve built a home together. You are more coupley than your father and I were when we first got together.”

See? You’re so obvious, Kaspbrak. Maggie can see your pathetic heart eyes a mile away, you sap.

There was a short pause as Eddie held his breath.

“It’s been a while but, I have been going on dates with a guy called Jamie,” Richie replied, sounding indignant. “We’ve…it’s not…I’m not dating Eddie. I was never dating Eddie. I will never date Eddie.”

A sharp pain shot through his whole body at that.

It wasn't news, of course. He had known for a long while now that unlike him, whatever Richie may have felt when they were kids—the silly, innocent crush, did not transcend into adulthood. And he had accepted that. Painfully. But firmly. For the sake of their friendship.

Unfortunately, it didn't stop him from falling deeper in love with him all the same.

“But, when you were kids—”

“We’re not kids anymore, it’s not like that. We’re best friends. Roommates. Business partners. That’s it.”

That’s it.

Eddie’s heart pounded in his ears, drowning out whatever was said next. His brain screamed at him to move, go back downstairs, shove the interaction out of his mind to anxiously torture himself about later, in the safety of his own bedroom. But he couldn’t move an inch. At least not until his adrenaline spiked when he heard sudden footsteps near the door.

As if electrocuted, he jumped, scrambling back down the steps, almost tripping and braining himself on the railing in his haste. The door opened a crack just as he caught himself, basking him in light from the kitchen. There, Margaret Tozier stood, staring down at him, something unreadable etched on her face.

“Oh, Eddie, there you are,” she smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes, “I was just calling you both for dinner,” she paused, head tilting at him. “You okay?”

I will never date Eddie. That’s it. I will never date Eddie. That’s it. I will never—

He forced himself to nod. Once. Twice.

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine. Went is just washing his hands. He’ll uh…he’ll be right up.”

Maggie bit her lip, nodding back.

Fuck.

She knows.

“I’ll um,” he cleared his throat, forcing his feet to unglue from the floor, stiffly ascending the steps, his entire body aching, “I’ll go set the table.”

Before she could protest, he slipped past her and bolted for the kitchen, hoping, wishing, and praying that Richie wasn’t in there.

He was.

He ignored him, making a beeline for the sink, and began washing his oil-stained hands, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up as a quiet, strangled noise left Richie before he cleared his throat.

“Uh, so, is Went impressed with your girlfriend?”

Another stab of pain darted through him at that, but he ignored it.

“Yeah.”

I will never date Eddie. That’s it. I will never—

“You alright, Eds?”

Don’t turn around. Don’t look at him. Don’t—

“I’m fine.”

He was not fine. He was so, so far, from fine. He was the antithesis of fine.

But now was not the time.

He could fall apart later.

A hand clasped his shoulder and he practically leaped three feet in the air, tense as a bowstring.

“Whoa, hey, it’s just me,” Richie murmured in that same quiet tone, his thumb rubbing gently against the fabric of his T-shirt.

Silently, he watched as he raised that hand to his face, that thumb brushing against his cheekbone, right over his scar.

“Rich…”

His hand jerked away, eyes fluttering as if only realizing what he had just done.

“Sorry, I—you had a smudge. S’gone now.”

It was then that Eddie realized how close they were standing.

I will never date Eddie. That’s it.

“—and we have garlic bread too so—”

He practically went into cardiac arrest as the Tozier matriarch rounded the corner, her voice wafting into the room.

“I uh—I’m gonna go change for dinner,” he gestured at his oil-stained T-shirt to avoid eye contact, “I’ll be right back.”

He could feel Richie’s heavy gaze following him as he booked it towards his bedroom, but forced himself to ignore it. He was having a hard time keeping his heart in check as it was.

This was gonna be a long night…

~*~

Something was wrong with Eddie, but Richie couldn’t figure out what. Like earlier, he was quieter, more subdued, but now, there seemed to also be an edge to him, as if he were bracing himself for an attack that could strike at any moment. It reminded Richie of the first few weeks of them living together, getting to know each other again in a shared space. He had been a bit skittish then too, almost as if he were surprised by Richie’s presence and startled at the random noises he made and the space he took up.

It had worried him at first, thinking that maybe he wasn’t right for Eddie’s roommate, but when he voiced as much, Eddie shot that down quickly. Because it hadn’t been that Richie wasn’t right, it was that, for once, Eddie felt like he had his own place in the world, that he could control and make his own, and the fact that Richie shared it with him, without trying to take over, took him by surprise every day.

But this wasn’t that. Ever since he came back into the kitchen looking all unfairly sexy in his tight, white T-shirt all stained with oil and nearly giving Richie a heart attack, it was clear that this was Eddie spooked. Out of sorts. Bothered by something that completely eluded Richie.

And he hated it.

“So Eddie, how’re you liking our new job?” Maggie asked as they ate.

That perked him up a bit to Richie’s relief, he animatedly launching into a story about a project he and his team were working on. Maggie and Went jumped in with questions every now and then, enraptured by him and his enthusiasm, proving yet again, that Toziers of all shapes and sizes and generations, were suckers for Edward F. Kaspbrak.

“And how’s the love life post-divorce?”

Richie was going to commit matricide. He really was.

He kept his glare firmly on his traitor of a mother as Eddie stilled, clearing his throat and gesturing with his glass, red wine sloshing dangerously close to the rim.

“Uh, you know, I haven’t really uh…had a lot of time to date. So.”

Leave it alone, Mags. Don’t you dare—

“Aw, that’s a shame,” Maggie cut across his silent scolding. “A handsome, smart, successful man like yourself, deserves a good guy to share your life with.”

Richie narrowed his eyes into slits but she pointedly ignored him.

“Well,” Eddie coughed, giving a small shrug and addressing his plate, “maybe one day.”

Richie’s stomach lurched at the thought. Some handsome, smart, successful man coming into Eddie’s life that would sweep him off his feet and away from Richie and everything they built together over the last two years. He knew it was selfish, unfair, and hypocritical even, considering he himself had been ‘dating’, but he couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief when Eddie had insisted on staying far away from the dating scene—turning down set-ups and openly criticizing apps for months now.

I’d rather rip off my own arm than get a venereal disease from some fitness bro off Grin-der, Richie.

He had meant Grindr, or maybe Tinder, not a bastardization of the two, but the sentiment still stood. And made Richie worry that his type was men with more muscle than smart mouth and who cared more about kale smoothies than late-night cheese cubes.

Not like you have a chance anyway, dumbass, a voice that sounded far too like his snarky thirteen-year-old self rebuked in his head as Maggie took a sip of her wine and hummed in a way that told him whatever she was cooking up in that brain of hers, could only mean trouble.

“You know…my friend Sylvia’s son Ronan lives downtown. Owns his own gym. Graduated top of his class in business school and volunteers with the local outreach program. I could introduce you when we’re nearby tomorrow. He’s a sweetheart.”

Richie’s heart plummeted into his stomach, tangling and tightening to the point of nausea as he finally allowed himself to look up at Eddie, who was blinking at his mom in surprise, but not immediately jumping in with refusals as usual.

“Oh, uh…” he pushed some lasagna around with his fork, “I…I haven’t really been thinking about dating late—”

“Leave Eds alone, Ma,” Richie cut across him, trying to inject some levity into his far too sharp tone, shifting uncomfortably in his chair, “he doesn’t need Blind Date: Tozier Edition. He’s—”

“Actually,” Eddie interjected, leaning forward with an expression on his face that he couldn’t decipher, “I’ve been thinking that it might be time for me to get back out there. Maybe I’ll take you up on that, Mrs. Tozier.”

Richie stopped breathing, gripping his fork so tightly that his knuckles whitened.

“Maggie,” she corrected with a pleased grin, fishing around for her phone and unlocking it, the light basking her in a soft glow.

“I know I have Sylvia’s number in here somewhere,” she muttered to herself, scrolling, “I’m sure I can get the name of Ronan’s gym and double-check where—”

“Anyone want a beer?”

He was on his feet before his brain even registered he had spoken, practically fleeing the room before anyone could make a sound. He stumbled into the kitchen, gripping the sink tightly as he fought to control his haggard breathing, his heart thumping in his ears.

“Rich.”

He jumped, whirling around to find Went Tozier eyeing him with a cryptic expression, something like concern and confusion and something else he didn’t want to examine too closely.

“Oh, hey Dad. You want a—”

“You should tell him.”

Richie froze, arm outstretched towards the fridge.

He can’t…he doesn’t mean…

Clearing his throat, he forced himself to be nonchalant (and largely failed), opening the fridge and peering inside.

“Tell who what?”

“Richie.”

It had been a long time since he had heard his name said like that. Especially out of his dad’s mouth. His stomach churned. He stared at the butter. He felt rather than heard Went edge closer, until his hand landed on his shoulder, squeezing it gently and turning him.

“You’ve been in love with him since the fifth grade.”

Panic surged in his veins.

Guess your secret wasn’t so secret after all, Trashmouth.

“Dad—”

“I know it’s probably not my place, son, and I really don’t mean to overstep, I don’t,” Went interrupted quietly, “but…your mother and I, we just want you to be happy. I mean, you are happy, so much happier than we’ve seen in a long, long, time, and I know why. But I know you could be happier. And I think you know how, too.”

A fist closed around Richie’s heart as he rasped out, “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

He thought about throwing out his arms, flailing like a tube dude in the wind and scoffing loudly at his father’s ridiculous question, but instead, all that escaped, in barely more than a whisper was—

“Because he…doesn’t…want me.”

You pathetic, pining—

Went’s fingers tightened on his shoulder, interrupting his spiraling thoughts as their eyes finally met.

“I won’t speak for him, Rich, but…don’t you think you should make sure? Maybe ask him? So you know once and for all?”

Richie’s head was shaking before he even finished his sentence.

“I can’t. I wouldn’t recover.”

Coward.

Went blinked at him.

“Who says you’d have to? What if it goes right?”

An ugly snort escaped him, smothering the inconvenient hope that never quite managed to perish over the span of three decades.

“And what if it doesn’t?”

His dad leveled him with a look he knew well. A look, due to his general Richieness and Went’s Wentness—he didn’t see often growing up, but always knocked him on his ass anyway. A look that said, Richard, I am your father and I think you’re being myopic. Let yourself dream bigger.

“Well,” his dad murmured with another gentle squeeze on his shoulder. “There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?”

~*~

Slow, clumsy tapping filled the air of Eddie and Richie’s living room.

“Oh, you know what, I don’t think I have Sylvia’s number saved after all,” Maggie mumbled almost to herself, as she continued to scroll through her phone.

He blinked, tearing his eyes away from the kitchen door that Richie and Went had just disappeared behind.

“Oh,” he swallowed down the lump in his throat, “that’s okay. I’m probably not ready for dating anyway, so—”

“Not even if it was with the right guy?”

His head snapped up, his gaze catching on those familiar eyes, identical to his best friend’s.

“You think Ronan is the right guy for me?”

“Not Ronan, no.”

It settled between them—not heavily, not lightly—just truthfully.

The fork slipped out of his grip, clattering down onto his plate. It was the confirmation that neither one of them needed.

He cleared his throat, rougher this time, that stubborn lump refusing to budge as he pushed his food away and reached for his wine glass, Maggie’s eyes burning a hole into his forehead.

She knows. She knows. Fuck, she know—

“Eddie.”

A small, slender hand reached out and landed on his, squeezing his fingers gently.

“It’s okay.”

A hitch of breath escaped him as those words wrapped around him like a blanket.

“It is?”

His voice was quiet, and timid, sounding much closer to him at fourteen than forty-two.

Another squeeze to his hand.

“Yes. More than okay. It has been for a long, long time.”

That doesn’t mean—

“You’re right for him too, you know,” Maggie half-whispered, gaze flickering to the kitchen door and back, “I knew it then and I know it now.”

He swallowed around his Sahara-dry throat, his whole body shakier than it had been in the midst of murder-clown-hysteria.

“W-What if he doesn’t think so?”

Maggie’s left eyebrow arched.

“And what if he does?”

Eddie’s eyebrow arched back, shame and embarrassment creeping up his spine.

“I-I heard…he said…that we were just…that we'd never…" he waved a hand, unable to give a voice to his biggest fear and harshest heartbreak.

Shaking his head firmly, he cleared his throat, his words slightly steadier than before.

“I can’t risk it.”

Something flashed across Maggie’s eyes. He tried not to look too closely. Unable to see a mirror of Richie’s staring back at him.

“Something worth having is worth the risk, Eddie. Trust me. Just…think about it. Richie, he—I love him but he’s not always the most emotionally honest, especially with himself,” she sighed, squeezing his fingers, a little smile gracing her face. “I don’t give just anyone my recipes, you know.”

With that, she sat back, letting his hand drop.

“Sorry. I’ll stop meddling now. I never did know when to keep my big trap shut. Where do you think he gets it?”

~*~

This year, Valentine’s Day fell on a Wednesday. The least sexy day of the week.

“It’s literally called ‘hump day’, man. How is that not sexy?”

Eddie rolled his eyes at Richie as they dished out their Chinese food, flicking through Netflix for a dumb action movie (starring the one and only Jean Claude Van Damme) to watch.

A perfectly ‘bro’ way to spend a romantic holiday.

Nice and safe for his wounded, pining, tragically hopeful heart.

“What restaurant did you reserve for your folks again?” he piped up, poking at his noodles.

Richie skipped over Double Jeopardy, waving the remote in his face.

“Providence. Apparently, the seafood is ‘to die for,’ but let’s hope we don’t get an emergency contact call. That’d be a shitty end to the visit.”

Eddie hummed around his chopsticks, fighting a wince.

“Sorry you’re stuck with me and take out instead of, I dunno, at a fancy dinner with Jamie or something.”

He could feel Richie’s eyes burning into the side of his face before he hopped up off the couch, wiping his palms on his jeans.

“Uh, yeah well,” he cleared his throat and waved flippantly over his shoulder, “he text me last night saying something about ‘rekindling an old flame’ so Valentine’s Day wasn’t on the cards for us, I guess.”

Eddie froze, eyes darting over to him before he scrambled to put down his food and follow him into the kitchen.

“What?! That asshole!”

“It’s all right, Eds,” Richie continued to the fridge, “no need to go all attack dog. It’s fine.”

Anger shot through his veins.

“The fuck it is! That dickwad texts you the night before Valentine’s Day? Who the hell does that?!”

Richie stopped dead in his tracks, turning to face him.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, reaching out to clasp his arm gently. “Yeah, I mean, it sucks but, he wasn’t really my type anyway. I’d much rather hang out with you and Van Damme than a vain actor in some stuffy, overpriced, tiny-portioned French place. Any day.”

Eddie squinted up at him.

“Tall, blond, and handsome isn’t your type?”

Something enigmatic passed over Richie’s face at that. Once upon a time, Eddie would have been able to read it like the back of his favourite cereal box, but their time apart had given Richie some new expressions that weren’t always legible to him. But he found he was enjoying learning all over again.

“I’m uh…a fan of short, brunet nerds, actually.”

His heart catapulted into his throat.

Easy, Kaspbrak. It doesn’t mean anything. He doesn’t mean—

"Yeah well, he'll regret it,” he interrupted his own mental spiraling before he could go too far down the rabbit hole. “You're a catch. Smart, funny, handsome, the trifecta. That douche doesn't know what taste is!"

Jesus. Why don’t you just propose already?

He braced himself for an onslaught of jokes, a snarky comeback to his far too sincere compliment.

But it never came.

"Thanks, Eds."

Richie's voice was soft. His eyes were softer.

"You too."

His hand dropped from his arm as he turned back around to open the fridge, snatching up two beers.

“Did you mean what you said?” he asked suddenly, a furrow between his eyebrows as he shut the fridge door and held out a bottle for him to take.

Eddie blinked, fighting a blush as their fingers brushed.

“Uh…yeah? You’re great. I’m sure you’ll find someone who—”

“No,” he shifted his weight from foot to foot, gaze pinned somewhere near his clavicle. “I mean about you putting yourself out there. Dating.”

A beat passed.

"I mean, maybe? Yes? No?"

"Lot of mixed messages there, Eduardo."

Heat spread across his cheeks as their gazes finally locked.

"I just…the person has to be…right. You know?"

That same something danced in Richie’s eyes.

“Yeah. I know."

Nerves prickled like static in Eddie’s whole body as he ran his free hand through his hair.

“So, what, you’re going for a short, brunet nerd next time?"

Another beat.

Two.

Thr—

“If he’ll have me.”

Eddie watched as Richie swallowed, his Adam’s Apple bobbing. He wanted to sink his teeth into it.

“It sounds like you have someone in mind.”

Richie cleared his throat, giving a half-shrug.

“Maybe. Do you? Some gym bro named Ronan who—”

“No. God. Not my type.”

Eddie suddenly didn’t know what to do with his hands, so he took a sip of his beer.

“And what’s your type?”

And promptly almost spat it out.

You’re braver than you think.

“Tall, brunet nerds.”

“Huh.”

“Hm.”

They were openly staring at one another now, barely a foot apart, hands clutching their beer bottles in the middle of their dimly-lit, near-silent kitchen.

Richie took a shaky breath, his face doing something complicated.

“Eddie—”

“I heard you and your mom talking last night,” he cut across him, blood igniting with a potent mix of nerves and exhilaration. “She…thought we were dating?”

What the actual fuck are you doing, Kaspbrak?!

Richie froze, eyebrows arched in surprise, his teeth mid-chew on his bottom lip.

“Uh—”

“But you set her straight. Told her we weren't dating, that we'd never date. That we’re best friends. Roommates. Business partners. That’s it.”

"Eds—"

“‘Cause you got over your crush on me in middle school,” Eddie waved a hand, his brain firing on all cylinders as his mouth fled from it like a robber from cops, “which is fine. I get it. Never understood what the appeal of me was in the first place, anyway. Bobby Wilkins was a dumbass, but at least he—”

“Was an asshole,” Richie finished, sounding indignant. “He was a grade A douchebag with bad hair and worse personality.”

“But you said—”

“I know what I said!” he flapped a hand, his mouth running a mile a minute. “But, c’mon, man. What was I supposed to say? ‘Well, actually Eds, my massive crush on you lasted right up until we said goodbye on the kissing bridge that day I tried to show you where I—’”

His voice died in his throat, his eyes bugging.

Eddie gaped up at him, the words ringing in his ears and mixing with the ones that Maggie had said the night before, that had kept him awake.

Something worth having is worth the risk.

He took a deep breath. That same stupid hope blooming within him, bigger and brighter than ever.

Maybe this was worth the risk.

“Where you…what, Rich?”

~*~

Well, you’ve fucked it up now, Trashmouth. Deflect, deflect!

“Nothing!” he squawked, attempting to turn on his heel and book it back into the living room but was halted when Eddie’s hand clasped around his wrist tightly and held him in place.

He tried to ignore the arousal that sparked in his gut at that. He failed.

“You brought me up there the day I was moving,” Eddie continued, hesitantly, his fingers flexing against his skin. “I remember you were jumpy, even more trash-mouthy than usual, but I just chalked that up to the fact that I was leaving.”

Richie’s eyes fell shut. That had been one of the worst memories he had recovered since Derry 2: Electric Boogaloo. That day could have happily stayed gone, in his opinion.

It was the first time he experienced true heartbreak.

But wouldn’t be his last.

“We stopped on the kissing bridge. Right at the post.”

He winced, letting his eyes open a crack, feeling Eddie’s burning a hole in the side of his face.

“You stood there, talkin’ a mile in a minute about some dumb shit like fuckin’ my mom and—” he swallowed, his grip on his wrist tightening, “and I hugged you. Tighter than I ever hugged anyone in my whole life.”

He nodded.

"And you hugged me back. You…" Eddie tilted his head at him, his dark eyes even more bush baby-esque than usual. "You hugged me like you didn't want to let me go."

"I didn't. I never do, Eds."

The words were out of his mouth before his brain had even finished thinking them. He could only watch, frozen, terrified and helpless, as something that looked like understanding passed over his best friend’s face.

You’ve ruined everything you stupid—

"Maggie told me something too."

Richie felt his eyes almost pop out of their sockets as sheer terror flooded his system.

"Dammit, Mags, listen Ed—"

“She told me to tell you that I…like you.”

His heart lurched into his throat.

"...Like me?"

He sounded every bit his scared, pining, thirteen-year-old self in that moment. And Eddie looked about three seconds away from throwing up.

“I-I had a crush on you back in the day too.”

Holy fucking shit.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Somewhere, sometime, a loud, gangly teenager with insecurities out the wazoo was throwing the biggest party known to man.

Wait…

“But you said…like. As in. Present tense,” he mumbled slowly, brow furrowed in confusion.

“Oh my god, are we in the eighth grade?!”

“I mean, may—”

He was cut off by Eddie tugging on his wrist and pulling him down into a kiss.

“Mmph!”

Holyshitholyshitohmygodwhatthefuckholymotherfuckingfuck—

Eddie Kaspbrak’s lips were soft. Better than any dream. Just like he always knew they’d be.

But before he could fully appreciate them, just as quickly, they were gone.

“Shit, sorry! Sorry! I don’t know what—just—can we forget that I just did that and ruined our entire fucking friendship with my dumb fucking—”

“Eds! Breathe, man,” Richie held out his hands, snatching Eddie’s beer out of his tight grip and putting both bottles on the counter, struggling to catch his own haggard breath.

“Jesus, I’m such a—look, I’m sorry I read it wrong, Rich, okay?” Eddie continued to ramble, his voice raising in pitch and volume by the second. “Can we just forget—”

“You didn’t.”

He blinked those giant eyes in confusion.

“What?”

“You didn’t…read it wrong.”

“I…” Eddie swallowed, gasping, his chest heaving.

Richie’s eyes caught on the line of his throat.

“I didn’t?” he rasped, running a hand through his hair. “So you—you—”

Now or never, Trashmouth. Like dad said, there’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?

“My dad told me to tell you that I like you. Past and present tense.”

Eddie's jaw practically hit the floor.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh.’ And my mom thinks we’re dating 'cause…we…we’re…” he waved a hand, shrugging, hoping that he knew what he was trying to communicate despite his brain leaking out of his ears.

“Kind of are?” Eddie finished perfectly, sounding awed, a noticeable, adorable blush spreading from his neck all the way up to his hairline. “I mean, without the dates and s-sex and stuff.”

“And stuff,” Richie croaked, his heart beating so fast and hard in his chest, he felt like Roger Rabbit around Jessica.

“Would you…do you…” Eddie groaned, running a hand down his face in frustration, struggling to get his words out.

Richie closed the gap between them, his hands clasping his shoulders and knees bending to try to catch his eye.

You can be brave too, Tozier.

“Eddie. It’s just me. It’s okay.”

Their eyes finally locked. Something flashed across his best friend’s gaze that ignited a spark in him, both exhilarating and terrifying but so, so, hopeful.

“Do you want all that stuff with me, Rich?”

His voice was still quiet, but not timid anymore. A strength lined his syllables that made Richie feel brave too. Brave enough to admit his oldest, but never dirty secret, finally, after all these years.

“Eddie. I want everything with you. I always have.”

“Oh, thank fuck.”

With that, Eddie dragged him down by the collar into another startling kiss, before making his way down his jaw and scraping his teeth against the thin skin of his throat.

Richie’s stomach clenched with arousal, as he allowed his hands to trail down the body that had been starring in every steamy dream he had for the last two years (or over thirty depending on what way you looked at it), to land on those toned, wiry, infuriatingly sexy thighs.

“Rich, what—whoa!”

Richie cupped his thighs and lifted in one smooth move that he would definitely pat himself on the back for later (if he hadn’t just thrown it out), nipping at his bottom lip as he gently placed him on the kitchen counter and pressed himself as close to him as he could get.

“Oh, holy shit,” Eddie gasped, lips separating from Richie’s neck with a heady smack as he spread his legs wider to accommodate him, only to immediately tighten them around him in a way that had his stomach swooping.

“Jesus, Eds,” he groaned, his cock twitching in his jeans as their hands flew everywhere, raking all over each other, too frantic to stay in one place.

“Y-Yeah,” he gasped back, hands framing his face and dislodging his glasses as he traced his bottom lip with his tongue, deepening the kiss.

“God you’re so hot, what the fuck?” Richie groaned into his jaw as he smattered it with kisses, sounding pained. “It should be illegal. When you were in that tight white T-shirt all covered in oil? You were gonna give me a boner with my parents in the next room.”

“Like you’re one to talk Mr. ‘Let Me Try On My New Suit With Sexy Suspenders In The Middle of The Living Room,’” Eddie hissed back, nipping on his earlobe and making him yelp, and quickly shiver.

“Oh my god,” he laughed breathlessly. “Is that why you ran out of the room like it was on fire? Because of my sexy suspenders? Seriously?”

Eddie leaned back and arched an eyebrow at him, his cheeks alarmingly red.

“No,” he grumbled. “It was because of your stupid sexy shoulders in the suspenders, dickwad.”

With that point apparently being made, he latched back onto his neck like a greedy little vampire, muttering into his skin. “We could have been doing this for months now, Rich, fuck.”

A sharp stinging welled up behind Richie’s eyes (to match the one in his neck) as he briefly let himself think about all the time they had already lost, but it was quickly drowned out by Eddie tugging on his hair, pulling him even closer, capturing his lips and licking into his—

“We’re back!”

They sprung apart as if doused with a bucket of ice water, Maggie Tozier’s voice wafting in from the living room.

“Shit!”

“Fuck!”

Eyes bugging out of their sockets, Richie scrambled to help Eddie down off the counter and smooth out his clothes, while frantically fixing his glasses and patting his hair from where Eddie’s fingers had been raking through it.

“Oh. Hi.”

Maggie Tozier blinked at them from the doorway of the kitchen, Went visible from just behind her.

“You’re uh…back early,” Richie cleared his throat, rubbed the back of his neck and tried not to look as dishevelled as he felt. “Everything okay?”

Maggie tilted her head, looking from him to Eddie and back again.

“Yes, everything’s fine, sweetheart. Your father and I were just feeling a bit tired so we thought we’d have an early night because we’re meeting up with the rest of the Losers tomorrow.”

“Oh. Okay. Yeah.”

He forced his feet to move, Eddie hot on his heels as they spilled back into the living room, Eddie taking a seat down on the couch while Richie stayed standing, locked in some weird staring competition with his mother.

He thanked every deity he didn’t believe in that her sudden presence took care of the semi he had been seconds from sporting in his pants.

Don’t blink. Don’t show her any weakness. She smells blood in the—

“Well, we’ll leave you to your dinner. G’night, boys. Margaret?” Went piped up from where he was half way down the hallway, dispelling the tension.

“G-Good night, Went. Maggie,” Eddie replied, sounding hesitant and raising his hand in a half-wave before wincing.

Maggie’s gaze flickered between them before she took a step towards her husband.

“Good night you two. See you both in the morning.”

He let out a relieved breath as she started to walk out of the room. Quickly, he glanced over his shoulder to look at Eddie who raised his eyebrows at him, mouth agape, his lips a plump, shiny red that had his pulse racing when he thought about how—

“Oh and boys?” Maggie called out suddenly, her back still turned. “I’m happy for you.”

Richie's stomach flipped.

“Ma, what—”

“You might wanna cover up that neck before we meet the rest of the Losers tomorrow, Rich,” she whirled around, waving her hand in a flourish, a twinkle in her eye. “They’ll never let you live a hickey down. I know I sure as hell won’t.”

With that she let out a loud chuckle and waltzed down the hallway, out of sight.

Richie, rooted to the spot, gaped into the space she had just left behind.

Seconds ticked by.

“So.”

“Yeah.”

“Your mom knows.”

“Yep.”

“Soon your dad will know.”

“Uh huh.”

“...probably won’t be long ‘til the Losers know too.”

“Probably not.”

“Okay.”

“How do you feel about—whoa!”

He stumbled as Eddie tugged him down onto the couch suddenly, so close that their thighs touched, a large grin on his face.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

They stared at one another, Richie knowing well he had a goofy grin the size of Texas on his face as they slowly, gently, closed the gap between them until their lips brushed again.

Eddie gave a little hum, sounding pleased as he wrapped his arms around his shoulders, his hands weaving into the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Shit, Eds, you really are gonna give me a boner with my parents in the next room,” he groaned, both in pleasure and frustration as Eddie clutched at him.

“Sorry.”

“‘Sorry he says,’” Richie parroted as he leaned back, catching his eye.

Eddie bit his temptingly shiny lip in a very distracting way, looking conflicted.

“Sorry, I probably shouldn’t be rushing things. You’ve only just stopped dating Jamie and—”

“Heh, so funny story,” Richie interrupted, his face on fire. “We uh…weren’t exactly…dating. Technically.”

Eddie blinked slowly.

“What?”

Richie reached out and took his hand, squeezing it gently, staring as their fingers entwined, something warm pooling in his stomach at the sight.

“Well, I know I’ve never really done the whole dating thing before, but,” he shrugged, looking everywhere but at him, “I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to like, ask them about themselves and shit, not spend the whole time rambling on about everything you find endearing about your best friend.”

He swept his thumb over his knuckles, taking a deep breath.

The truth will set you free, Trashmouth.

“And I’m extra sure you’re not supposed to confess to said date after being asked outright if you’re in love with your best friend that yes, you are, have been for the last thirty years, sorry man, you want dessert?”

A loud silence rang out.

It felt like hours.

Richie stared at their linked fingers and held his breath.

“...you’re in love with me?”

He exhaled. Squeezed his hand again.

“Yeah. Have been for kinda forever, Eds. Sorry.”

He finally let his eyes trail his entire face, marveling at every line, freckle, detail that he had first mapped out in grade school, it only more handsome with age.

“‘Sorry’ he says,” Eddie rolled his eyes before promptly pulling him back against him and crashing their lips together in a deep kiss.

“I’m in love with you. Have been for kinda forever too,” he gasped, their breaths mingling. “In case it wasn’t obvious.”

Richie buried his smile in his hair, his heart lighter than it had ever been before, something he had held inside since before he could remember, lifting from him in that moment.

Your secret is out. The world didn’t end. It’s just the beginning…

“Cool. Cool, cool, cool,” he pecked his cheek, pulling him against his chest and sinking back into the couch.

Their couch. In their home. That they had built together.

“Hey, Eds…wanna hear why I actually brought you to the kissing bridge, that day?”

(More Reddie fics)

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #my fanfiction #decided to post a full fic here to see how it does #love to hear your thoughts

[allkinds-oftrash]

The Crown S5E10 Commentary

Non-Spoiler Review: That was so underwhelming. It just sealed to me what an uneventful season this was. I feel like Peter Morgan only went off on Ep 3, 4 then 7 to 9 then called it a day. I don’t know what exactly went behind the scenes to make him chicken out of going full on with the punches like he did in S4. Anyways here’s my live reactions as I watched it but I’m too annoyed to do a proper season review so lemme direct yall to my lovely mutual @mermaidsirennikita Caro’s post that outlined everything I felt about the season (I do disagree on some points but I’ll cover that in my post tomorrow or something when I’m done being mad - also hi Caro its viscountessevie’s side acc lol) 

Spoilers Under The Cut

Dodi and Mohammed!! I've missed them Shksjs Dodi is officially an LA producer Not him bidding against Michael Douglas for a house

The way I really thought it was gonna be Diana 🤡🤡 But it's just Barbara Gordan Sr (Erin Richards played her in Gotham) bdjdjdk

LMAOOO DIANA VOTING NO FOR THE MONARCHY Isn't this a lie tho?? I'm pretty sure she wanted William on the throne eventually... Oh well fiction wise it's fucking funny This voting scene is brilliant I love it so much What a great cold open!

(I forgot I watched the cold open last night before falling asleep and am rewatching this bit again for my commentary and GOD IT'S EVEN MORE HILARIOUS A SECOND TIME)

Oooh it's Lizzie's birthday Lmaoo not her getting gag gifts from everyone BUT CHARLES Between the boring ass book he got for Di and this, he really is the worst gift giver huh Not Chucky being jealous of Pedodrew's stupid gift Damn Charles really is a masochistic always watching these programs that make him upset Lmaooo not Edward and Pedodrew taking the piss out of him

God Queen Mother shut the fuck up you racist bitch "The Great Chinese Takeaway" 🙄 For fuck's sake and everyone laughing. God fuck these racist asses. Yeah this might be a fictional scene but YOU KNOW these bitches have said worse things behind closed doors. I cannot WAIT til the Queen Mother dies; she's so insufferable. Yall did not compare the liberation of a former colony to an ex attending a wedding jfc yall are the worst Charles is gonna fuck up the Hong Kong trip just watch

Random tangent but Fly Like An Eagle is on Glen Powell (Hangman in the Top Gun sequel)'s playlist for his character and now there's a plane while the song is playing, I fully expected Glen to come out of that plane why am I like this 💀💀

Anyways hiii Dodi what a cutie Is Barbara Gordan Sr playing his wife? Nope she is not. Who is Kelly?? Why do we need to know her Is this scene necessary Peter Morgan?? OH?? HE'S SLEEPING WITH HIS ACTRESS?? Dodi wtf don't be one of those gross producers Oh wait is that his fiancee he dropped for Diana oop Also why did I think she was his ex wife that happened way back in the 80s dhdjkd I'm sorry but I did not need to see that scene lmao it could have been an email Dodi really has a type huh Ew he's doing coke God he really became a Hollywood cliche huh I mean I never knew much about him so I can't say if this is accurate or not but if it is, bro why did you become a Hollywood cliche

I never followed Tony Blair's politics but we like him right?? In that case, Charles you're nothing like him How has the second Mrs. Al Fayed not aged at all 👁👄👁 It's been at least a good 7 years since Ep 3

Don't be fucking crude Mou Mou Let them speak their native language Kelly Yeah it's rude but you're giving White Woman rn djdkkdkd Heini is right lmaooo Okay actually they did do well with her make up to age her a little

WHAT?? His only talent is women??? "One day you'll hit the jackpot"???? What does that meannnn Mou Mou Peter Morgan are you implying Dodi was a golddigger omg This is so uncomfortable pls Kelly is like ???

Damnn let's go Labour Party let's gooo Ohmygod that's Tony Blair?? Huh the one time the irl person is more attractive 💀💀 the actor is fine but Tony Blair was a DILF back in the day come on

Tell me why I feel sad John Major lost 😭😭😭 He was just so nice this season dhkdjd Lmao this historians convo is so meta especially since Peter seems to have a bias for John Major and have given him a hot actor and made him really chill and cool this season Lmaooo Lizzie you did not just say he's your favourite PM LOL bro it's fine the Brittiana is old af time to decomission her

"The youngest Prime Minister since Lord Liverpool in 1812" WELL Rishi Sunak is coming for that title 25 years later yall "And you're still a young man too" LIZZIE STOP LYING HE'S GOT A FULL HEAD OF WHITE HAIR Johnny Lee Miller playing him doesn't make him less old djdkkd

Can you imagine if the note to Blair had said "GET OUT WHILE YOU CAN" lmaooo Johnnn why you lying "A great job" as if you didn't spend this season just babysitting the royals

This boat nonsense plot line is so fucking stupid and pointless. Peter Morgan THIS could have been an email. I do not care for this shit at all They just sound like rich brats which we already knew they were So you could have used another example to show that

NEW BRITAIN SHDJJDJS This is so stupid omg It's just a fucking boat Lizzie let it go

Like I get sentimentality and all but don't anchor (pun absolutely intended) yourself and your sense of self worth to a old piece of metal Like That I would be alot more sympathetic (because we all have sentimental things tied to our memories)1 if they weren't old rich white people who caused so much pain whining about a luxary no one else can afford and expecting the government to keep funding it

HAHAHHAH HE'S IN BUSINESS WHILE THE REST ARE IN FIRST CLASS PLEASEEEE I CACKLED "You're going to have to be very brave" 💀 Camilla it's just business class yall need to calm the fuck down

What the fuck is this visual Mans is not left out of anything This visual metaphor falls so fucking flat when he's literally usually the one drawing the curtain on people Peter Morgan what are you doing

Omggg the Cantonese burning the British flag What icons They're so right for THAT

Okay Heini has grown on me Girlie really grew into her place in the Fayed family huh Good for her "You were so much more than a model. You were a socialite" MOU MOU WHAT This is so cringey pls

I have gone 20 mins after the cold open without Diana WHERE IS SHE Oh lmao here she is I missed you bby Awww her friendship with Mou Mou is everything I wanna h u g her Her voice is always on point I'm shook

God the flashes give me such anxiety The foreshadowing really gives me the deepest pit in my stomach Oh gosh the offer to Saint Topaz,,, the beginning of the end 😭😭 I don't want her to goooo Yeah Elizabeth took a few eps but she finally grew into the role as Diana we love to see it!

We hate Charles but damn doesn't Dominic look good in a uniform God I hate it here Also booo let Hong Kong be it's own country just passing it off to another country I can't even I get so anxious seeing the rainfall on everyone's head they're gonna catch a cold Dominic lost the Charles voice, it needs to be steeper bud

Charles don't be fucking weird Why did you link the ages to her relatives and husband and now son Don't say it Nope yall are not brothers stfu He said it 🤡 Welll he made Blair say it

Lmaooo Blair sick of the yacht talk too hsjjdkd Why do you feel bad sir?? Bruh it's just a boat 💀

YALL JUST GOT DIVORCED A YEAR AGO - Chill the fuck out Chucky Lmaoo Blair is right he was going behind Lizzie's back and briefing against her They always do this They brief against one another It's messy af

The amount of Charles cocksucking happening in this episode is gross Peter Morgan WHAT did he threaten you with Why are you trying to make him out to be this modern innovative man Was he??? Was he really??? Charles so self serving I cannot LMAO NOT CAMILLA WITH THE KNOCK OFF REVENGE DRESS YOU WILL NEVER BE HER

"Friendly invasion" Okayyy China whatever helps you sleep at night

Helloooo Martin,,, I really am a simp for Martin huh. Listen this season hasn't given me a single person in the main Royals other than Diana to feel anything for So Martin's hotness it is I can't believe I'm saying this: but Lizzie should have said No 😭😭 Martin snitching on Chucky hsjdjdk She's gonna TEAR HIM APART

There's 12 minutes left and this is such an unimpressive finale wtf Peter Morgan bruh what are you doinggg I told myself I won't follow press after the mess than is the Bridgerton production team But I NEED to know what Peter was thinking outlining this season The potential was there and yet it flopped Only Eps 3, 7 to 9 were solid episodes

Lmaooo affair "Divorced man whose wife is still alive" I'M SCREAMING Can't believe I'm agreeing with Charles abt his rls rn Oh never mind fuck you Charles No one brought up Diana why you gotta drag her name through the mud K Chucky sureee Camilla has Did their spin doctor write this episode??

SCREAMS "I don't think it's my behaviour threatening its (the monarchy) survival" Rip him apart harder Lizzie come onnn Yesss throw the whole monarchy away Yeah they yeeted yall cos you OPPRESSED THEM FOR 50 YEARS, idiots

I feel nothing for this stupid ship and her farewell God this is so depressing and underwhelming This ep should have just been the cold open only tbh If you aren't gonna commit to the end of the Diana era then leave it all completely to S6 which is so disappointing, I thought they were finish Diana's story this season I was mentally prepared for that And now I gotta be sick again worrying about it and then mentally prepare for it again before S6

That's it??? That was so underwhelming???

40 mins of white people whining abt their boat and losing a country to independence Then 15 mins of Diana's death foreshadowing?? 5 mins of Dodi being a Hollywood producer cliche and Mou Mou being a dick to Kelly??

That's all??? Bruhhhh

#The Crown #The Crown Season 5 #The Crown Spoilers

[measuringbliss]

Spider-Man Read-Through 011: Welcome to 1970! (ASM 83-87)

MASTERPOST

The last time, we finished the sixties and entered the seventies. I don't know anything about the next three years, and then I have ample familiarity for the three years after that. Very happy to delve again in new material!

In this post, we see a new costume (but for whom?), a sidekick (but whomst?) and Spidey's biggest, most ferocious enemy.

It's a doozy!

Unfortunately, Stan Lee doesn't seem to be able to let go from the Kingpin, who's a constant hamper on my enjoyment of these arcs. Someone's out there to replace him (new super-villain called "The Schemer") but I'm sure the Kingpin will quickly see red...

However, we're once again talking about the mysterious lady driver! I still wonder who she is, I never actually got an answer.

And she's here! Vanessa! So she's definitely his wife. Huh! And she drops a bombshell that actually made my mouth gape: their son has disappeared! I didn't expect that. I'm already invested in that. Hell yeah. Vanessa's convinced Richard is dead, but I'm not so sure.

What also made me gasp was this! Flash's leaving and I'm sad, but then MJ *and* Gwen kiss him, because of course they do!

Another gasp-inducing happening is that Peter on-page questions the Vietnam War. Didn't expect that!

He's also recently been on the verge to reveal his secret to Gwen, but of course he's not gonna do it. This issue is very interesting as to how much of a reaction it is to the reader's letters: a lot of soap, the secret tease...

But Peter and Gwen get almost hit by a car and Gwen falls unconscious, because she's a girl.

For the second time in a short number of issues, Spidey jokes about a villain getting his lines from a shlocky manual. The MCU certainly didn't invent that type of quips (but seeing Spidey be so self-aware feels a bit wrong, like, come on, Stan, you don't get to be high and mighty about your usual dialogue).

The Schemer escapes Spidey's wrath after trying to use comically specific traps. But Gwen does her usual "oh, I don't know if I can love you ever again" shtick and we all frown, because "you were away when I woke up in the hospital" is certainly a reach. Meanwhile, I'm more certain than ever that her dad will guess Peter's identity.

Overall a nice issue! I always like me some soap.

In the letters, Jean Laidig sets themselves apart by suggesting giving powers not to May, but to Gwen! I hope you enjoyed Into the Spider-Verse, buddy. People also keep praising the Prowler.

At the beginning of issue 84, Spidey surmises that now, the Schemer's capture is worth 5000 dollars and is worth it... in today's money, it's a bit less than 39.000 dollars. Good grief.

Peter goes to the Stacys, but is quickly trapped between the father and the daughter, who keep asking him questions. Whoops.

The Kingpin is now also convinced that his son killed himself because he's seen news about his dad being a supervillain. Hm. That makes the Kingpin a more interesting character, but I think Richard would actually be a great character if he was still alive. I'm hoping he is.

And I actually think... he might be?

At one point in the issue, Vanessa tries to stop the Kingpin and the Schemer from fighting, but she sees something in the Schemer's eyes and next thing you know, they both disappeared. The next issue is supposed to reveal the Schemer's secret. So he does have one. Is he Richard aged up? What the hell's going on?

In the letters, Bruce Long informs everyone that Peter should be exempt from draft because his dad was in the CIA and Peter's his only child. Actually interesting!

Peter gets surprised once again by the Stacys, but they once again let themselves be fooled by his theater kid energy. And fool them, he does, by acting as if he had issues with Spider-Man. Good thinking, kid!

Turns out the reward I mentioned higher was bogus, since it was actually a trap set up by the Kingpin.

AND IT TURNS OUT I WAS (mostly) RIGHT! The Schemer *is* Richard! He just made a mask. Hell yeah. Now it makes sense, why his villain antics seemed so awkward.

Unfortunately for the Kingpin, his son's reveal shocks him so bad he becomes catatonic. Hopefully we don't see him for a few issues... although he finally got interesting! Now give me more of Richard, dammit!

It's a really good ending to the arc though.

But wait, about the next issues...

HELL YEAH.

Reminds me of this meme:

A female copy? Really? Huh. Anyway!

Natasha, kill him! Rip him in half!

What I didn't account for, however, was Natasha immediately recounting her backstory and mentioning her "hopeless" romance with Hawkeye. Uh oh, this combined with the previous meme is quite awkward. I mean, I'm laughing, but oops.

Natasha changes her costume because, in the words of one of Totally Spies's openings, "you have to be fashionable if you want to be a spy". I actually prefered her previous costume, it was quite elegant, but oh well. So Natasha considers that, since she has the same powers as Peter (no she doesn't), she has to fight him to be in the spotlight. Oof.

Her fighting style is pretty close to the Tarantula we'll see in a few years! That's nice. She also says Spidey must have been "born this way", which is proof that he's queer. Thanks for coming to my TED talk.

She gives up on page 18, and Stan helpfully informs us that Black Widow is about to get her monthly magazine. Thanks, Stanny dear, I'd never have guessed!

This issue's a nice change of pace. i'd be interested to check out BW's adventures! So Stan succeeded, I guess. If anybody has a specific arc to recommend...

Great letter, finally something new!

Predictably though, Keith Stern asks for less love and more action. Can't satisfy everyone now, can you? Joe Sykora is happy that #82 was at least 100 panels (he counted 124).

Ooooh! I mean, it can only be Captain Stacy, right?

Pete wants to analyze his blood to see if his powers are disappearing, but he can't focus - and Dr. Connors is in Florida. To make matters worse, it's also Gwen's birthday, teased multiple times throughout this arc (this is the fourth mention, by my count).

SO PETER STEALS A NECKLACE FOR HER.

At Gwen's party, I'm saddened to witness a terrible fact:

Harry's outfits have become less fun. I miss what he had before! Also, apparently Randy and his boyfriend Josh are here too! Why not.

Peter's actually lost his mind, because he crashes the party just as it was ending.

I was shook.

I think we can definitely say that Peter is being whumped, and to great effects! We love to see it.

Oh this is delightful.

MJ: Wow, Gwendy, you sure can pick 'em! He's either a masked menace or a psycho case!

We love bitchy MJ in this house.

Turns out what actually hampered Peter's wellbeing these last issues was the flu! Peter does nothing to beat the "men are weak" allegations (I can confirm, I'm a baby when I get sick, although my gender is. essentially non-existent. but let's not talk about that).

AND THEN OH MY FUCKING GOD. HE'S BACK. HE'S FUCKING BACK. MY MAN HOBIE BROWN IS BACK. I'M SO HAPPY!!!!!! I'm so glad I didn't check when and if he'd be back! Oh my God, oh my God!!!!!!!

No, you don't get it. I'm ecstatic! A TEAM-UP? I NEED THIS IN MY LIFE. HOBIE AS A SIDEKICK? Even as just a five-pages event, I love it! Oh my fucking god, YES!!!!!

This issue is fantastic and I can't understate how joyous I am of seeing Hobie again, after so many years not knowing what would happen to him! Aaah I love it.

In the letters... Well.

So relatable, Alan.

This concludes today's very enjoyable batch!

Anybody read that wrong?

#spider-man #comics #the amazing spider-man #kingpin #mcu #avengers endgame spoilers #black widow #whump #hobie brown #the prowler #peter parker

[starbuck]

“You'll be right back in the parlor room listening through a crack in the door to where the real business is being done. Back to where you started before you brought Mother and myself here and we made you into the man that you always insisted to them that you were.”

The fact that Eleanor’s mother was apparently the driving force behind building-up the Guthrie trading company in Nassau before she was killed in the Spanish raid is a VERY interesting detail when you consider the scene in 4x08 where Marion Guthrie attempts to set Max up with a man who she claims would “listen to [her] as a wife” and allow her to wield the true strategic power.

Because we also know that, when Richard initially pushed the move to Nassau, Eleanor’s mother didn’t want to go because she felt it would be too dangerous. And yet one of the perks Marion lists about the man she recommends to Max is “His family would be relieved beyond measure that he'd found himself a future far away from their business.” So to me, Marion becomes a slightly sinister figure in the formation of Eleanor’s parents’ relationship when I imagine her introducing Eleanor’s mother to Richard, fully aware that he had ambitions of going to Nassau to try to “prove himself” (and secretly wanting rid of him), but neglecting to mention this to her and instead claiming, as she did with Max, that he’d do whatever she said and that she’d retain autonomy.

I do think that Marion, as a woman secretly wielding power, does like the idea of other women doing the same and legitimately wants to encourage their success but, at the same time, her primary concern is making money which is exactly why she has no issue giving Max a shove towards the same precarious position that got both Eleanor and her mother killed, so long as it means their very profitable partnership can move forward. 

#black sails #which is exactly why Max rejecting this is so radical #it's honestly one of my favorite things that happens in the entire show #i have more to say about this that i'll save for later #but yeah i'm just Very Interested in Eleanor's parents' relationship and the way it mirrors hers with Rogers #i haven't brought it up much bc i don't want it to be interpreted in a Gross Way #but it’s Very Deliberately Paralleled in the show so 🤷 #but yeah there was something Not Great going on there between Richard and his wife #when Eleanor says that Richard’s ‘self-serving lies’ are ‘the manure from which [she] sprouted’... Like. there’s Something there... #bs LB #(sort of... I wrote this last night and couldn’t decide if it made sense so I threw it in my drafts lol) #but I think it’s good so here we are!

[the-iceni-bitch]

For smutty prompts: 97) “I think you forgot to lock the door, that means anyone could walk right in and see you like this.”

With Andy or Ransom? Anyone really 😂

Oooookkkkk, this is gonna be Ransom, cause I’ve had a similar idea to this for him for a while now.

What, the OTP again, you say? You guys just keep lining them up for me 😉

Tagging the OTP babes @stargazingfangirl18 @chrissquares @subtlebucky @egcdeath

Send me smutty prompts!!!

Again, 18+ only guys, this is straight up porn!

You had never been more bored in your life.

It was Linda and Richards’ 40th anniversary, and they were throwing a giant party at a fancy hotel in downtown Boston. Of course you had to go, you and Ransom were pretty established now, as much as Linda hated it.

It was literally just a bunch of old money families that Linda was trying to ingrain herself to, bunch of stuffed suits that had nothing better to talk about than summering in the Hamptons or their brand new yachts or whatever the fuck the obscenely rich and out of touch loved to drone on about.

You’d lost track of the number of gin and tonics you consumed an hour ago, keeping yourself glued to Ransom’s side purely because you needed someone to roll your eyes at and he was your only option.

“How you feeling there, sweetheart?” He asked as some ancient man with a name like Chauncey or something finally walked away from you after chatting at you about his damn hunting lodge for what felt like an hour.

“Please kill me.” You whined, running your hand over your face before taking another sip of your drink as he chuckled at you. “Just break your glass and shove the shards into my throat.”

“I thought you were used to talking to rich people?” He said. “Isn’t that all you do at that charity of yours?”

“Those are rich liberals.” You said as you chugged the rest of your drink. “Who also aren’t the best, but at least I don’t have to listen to them complain about environmental regulations the whole time.”

“Well, why don’t we give my parents those super thoughtful gifts you got them then get the fuck out of here?” He said, taking your glass from you.

“Yes, please.” You said grabbing the presents you’d spent way too long on and following him through the crowd.

It didn’t take you long to find Richard and Linda, at the center of a flurry of activity. You waited patiently for them to be free before stepping in front of them, Ransom wrapping a protective hand around your waist.

“Mom, Dad, Y/N and I are gonna head out but we wanted to make sure to wish you a happy anniversary and give you your gifts.” He said, his fingers drumming against your side with nervous energy.

“Yes, happy anniversary you two.” You said, giving them a forced grin as you handed them their presents.

“Oh you can’t leave yet, Ransom.” Linda said, completely ignoring you. “There’s someone here I want you to meet. Muffy!”

Ransom let out a groan as Linda wandered off to grab some uptight looking woman who was about your age but who looked about as bored as you felt. Richard just gave his son a clap on the shoulder and gave you a lecherous grin, before turning to head to the bar.

“Gross.” You muttered before turning back to you boyfriend. “You wanna tell me what’s going on, babe?”

“Yeah, my mom’s been trying to get me to go out with this Muffy chick for months.” He said nervously, loosening his tie around his throat. “I think her parents own a textile conglomerate or something. I thought she would’ve let up once we made it official but I guess not.”

You didn’t get a chance to respond before Linda was shoving the poor girl at Ransom and trying to get the two of them to chat, still pointedly ignoring you.

“Yeah, it’s nice to meet you. This is my girlfriend, Y/N.” He said as he pulled you even closer.

“Hi Muffy, it’s my pleasure.” You said, offering her your hand as you beamed at Linda, who was looking very unhappy. “So sorry to cut this short, but we really do need to get going. Always great to see you, Linda.”

You dragged Ransom away from the crowd by his tie. He made a small sound of surprise when you turned away from the exit and started to head towards the bathroom.

“Babe, the exit’s that way.” He muttered, grinning at you.

You turned around and brought his face to meet yours, smashing your lips against his in a searing kiss, running your tongue over his teeth before breaking away and leaving him breathless.

“I know where the exit is, but there’s something I want to take care of first.” You murmured as he rested his forehead against yours. “Now go make sure there’s no one in the bathroom, and I’ll make you come so good baby.”

“Fuck, don’t gotta tell me twice.” He muttered before striding inside.

He was only gone for a few seconds before popping back out and dragging you in after him, picking you up and wrapping your legs around him.

“So...” you murmured as he set you on the counter, his lips moving all over your neck and shoulders. “Why didn’t you tell me your mom was trying to set you up with a socialite?”

“Didn’t really seem important.” He muttered against your chest as he slotted himself between your thighs. “It’s not like I was actually gonna do anything with her.”

“Right.” You said as you started to undo his belt.

You removed his belt and started to work on undoing his fly, sighing as he sucked a bruise against your throat. You tugged his slacks and boxer briefs down his legs and wrapped your hand around his cock, making him groan.

“Whose cock is this baby?” You purred as he straightened up to rest his forehead against yours, your grip on his length tightening as he hissed between his teeth.

“Shit, you’re mad.” He mumbled as you squeezed him harder, biting your lip as you watched precum leak from his angry tip.

“Not mad, baby.” You murmured, running your thumb over his slit and making him groan. “Just feel like maybe your need a little reminder. Now tell me whose cock this is.”

“Fuck, it’s your cock.” He moaned as you smeared his precum over your fingers and dragged your hand over his length.

“That’s right baby.” You whispered as you brought your hand up to cup his cheek. “All mine. Just like this pretty mouth.”

He hummed as you slipped your fingers into his mouth and continued to draw your hand over his dick. His tongue swirled around your fingers as you pushed them further into his mouth, nudging the back of his throat as you slid off the counter.

“Look at you taking my fingers so good baby.” You cooed at him as you moved to stand behind him, sliding your fingers out of his mouth. “You know what else is mine?”

His breath hitched as you ran your hand over the curve of his ass, teasing your finger around the rim of his puckered hole, your other hand still drawing over his length as you bent him over the counter.

“Fuck, oh my god.” He groaned as you slid your finger inside him, arching his back into your hand.

“Ooh, baby, you are so fucking ready for me aren’t you?” You purred at him as you stretched him open, his cock twitching in your grip. “I own you, Hugh. This is my body, sweetheart, I can play you like a damn fiddle.”

He cried out as you slipped another finger inside him, scissoring them in his pretty hole as you curled over his back and pressed soft kisses against his neck. You shoved them even further inside him until they were nudging his prostate, and he swallowed a scream as your hand moved even faster over his cock.

“Mmm, sing for me pretty boy.” You murmured into his hair. “I think you forgot to lock the door, that means anyone could walk right in and see you like this. Now cum for me sweetheart.”

You sank your teeth into his neck as you shoved a third finger inside him, your other hand squeezing his cock. Ransom screamed as he came violently, his body rolling underneath you as his cum spurted all over the counter and his pretty hole fluttered around your fingers as he sobbed against the countertop.

“Oh my god!” You heard a sound of disgusted surprise from your left and turned to see Walt and Richard standing there with shock written all over their faces.

You stood up and grinned at the two of them as you pulled your fingers out of Ransom and unwrapped your other hand from his cock, smacking his ass hard and making him yelp as he panted against the counter.

“Hey there boys!” You beamed at them, Ransom finally coming back to himself and straightening up, avoiding making eye contact with his father and uncle as he pulled his slacks back up and tucked himself in. “Richard, please tell your wife to stop shoving WASP bitches at my boyfriend.”

——————————————————————————

A/N: This ended up being super long, whoops! But hey, sub!Ransom guys!

#natalie answers #smut prompts #chris evans #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom x you #ransom smut #chris evans smut #chris evans characters #dom!reader

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

Do you happen to have any fics to help restore ones love for the irondad fandom? I'm suddenly afraid of loosing interest. Perhaps I haven't read a good fic in a while.

Oh, there is so much variety in the Irondad fandom that I guess it depends on what you enjoy.  Here are a few of my favorites from across the board.  

Whump with Feelings:

Of Flying and Falling by @polaroid15

Peter hums as if in deep thought. The blood on his face is bright and unrelenting in the glow of the fire, like some permanent reminder of Tony's failures. “Did you know my parents died in a plane crash?”

Tony jolts, the response hitting him like a freight train. He rubs Peter’s arm as his throat tightens. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

“They must’ve been really scared.”

“Are you scared Peter?”

---

Or, on their way home from a fancy conference on the coast of Vancouver, Tony and Peter's helicopter crashes, ending what should have been a perfect weekend filled with maple ice cream and sea water in a desperate battle for survival.

A Mermaid AU:

Petey and the Hermit by eccentric_artist_221b

Three years after losing his wife and child to a fatal car accident, Tony Stark courts his darkest thoughts at the top of an old, abandoned lighthouse. Preserved at the last second by the supposed screams of a drowning victim, Tony leaps into action. Finding an injured merboy trapped in trawler lines between the crevice of a rock, he can only assume this is part of a whiskey induced dream. As he brings the creature home to nurse its wounds, he soon discovers this is more than he signed up for when it begins to form a bond with him.

Age Regression:

close to my heart, never to part by @parkrstark

During patrol one night, Peter comes across something that leaves him and Ned dumbfounded. The next morning, Ned is dropping off a now two-year-old Peter at Tony’s. Not only does he have to figure out how to turn him back, but he must watch him. Tony wonders what he’s supposed to do with the now toddler-Peter for the next two weeks…until he slowly starts to wonder what he will do without this boy after the two weeks are over.

Amnesia Victim Peter Parker:

Do You Know Who You Are? by loubuttons 

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For forgetting. I’m sure I didn’t want to forget you.”

Amnesia Victim- Tony Stark:

Identity [REDACTED] by @obsessionoftheday

Dissociative fugue is one or more episodes of amnesia in which an individual cannot recall some or all of his or her past. Either the loss of one's identity or the formation of a new identity may occur with sudden, unexpected, purposeful travel away from home.

OR

When Tony goes missing, Peter and Rhodey team up to find him.

Migraine and Injury two for one:

Keeping Company by @whumphoarder and @xxx-cat-xxx

While attempting to look after his migraine-riddled mentor, Peter manages to injure himself badly enough to need Tony’s help.

Lots of Fluff:

t-shirts by KiwisAndTea  @kiwisandtea

A collection of one-shots centered around Peter Parker's favorite shirts. They serve only two purposes:

1. to embarrass Peter

2. to make Tony Feel™ Things

Humor:

Sole Heir by GotMyInkPen  @gotmyinkpen

Tony Stark has officially decided that Peter Parker is his sole heir and will one day inherit Stark Industries. Here's how Peter prepares for that day.

Kid Peter Parker- Hydra :

darkness will be rewritten by @marveal

"Richard Parker was studying Cross-Species Genetics, but struggled with the ethics of it, because it required he use human DNA, which no ethics board would agree with. So he used his own. His work was successful based off of his own DNA, and every human has a unique DNA,” Bruce explains. “So, naturally, when HYDRA wanted his research, they knew they would never get his support, so they took the next best thing they could to his own DNA. His son."

Or, Tony finds a tortured and experimented-on Peter Parker in a HYDRA base and decides to help him because who else will?

Adoption AU:

I told you I had issues by Bergen 

Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, and right now, a little exasperated. Because some guy is swinging around New York, shooting webs and making trouble, Fury is breathing down his neck, and his latest intern took off with his coupon for a free coffee.

Thank god for Pepper Potts.

--

...or, a Spider-Man AU where a set of bad circumstances begin to push Peter Parker down a wrong path, and where Tony is probably not the best person to deal with it, but he does anyway.

Kid Peter Meets Tony :

i promise you, kid, you'll be home soon by bstarship

If there was one good thing to come out of Tony's ultimate death at the end of the week, it was the ability to forget for a short period of time. He spent his time surrounded by strangers who idolized him and friends who sometimes gave less of a damn. But it was a kid who grounded him—who made him wish he had more time because he reminded him that there were good things to live for. One kid did all that.

Truly, Tony didn’t know how to make sense of it. A part of him told him to be unabashedly humble. Another part said to leave the kid and drive to Miami with the top down until his eyes fell out of their sockets.

A kid who had a shopping bag tied around his wrist with the Stark Expo logo on the side. A kid who was silent for a while until he finally said, “I have to use the bathroom.”

It was just a kid. A kid.

or

Peter is eight-years-old and loves everything about Iron Man. Tony is dying and helps a lost kid find his aunt and uncle.

Sickfic:

Sick and Lost by @kittybellestark

Peter’s sick and took the wrong bus. He meant to go to New Jersey but ends up in not New Jersey and calls Tony for help. He isn't having a great time but at least he has Tony on his side.

Okay, I could go on ALL DAY so I think I’ll stop here.  If you find something you enjoy and want more things like it, let me know!

#asked and answered #marvel fic rec #awesome reads! #don't forget to kudos and comment #tony stark #peter parker #irondad and spiderson #marvel #iron man #spider man #mcu #marvel fanfiction #irondad fandom

[natromanxoff]

19 - The Dynamic Duo V Montreux

Hello folks. I was sitting around twiddling my thumbs and I thought I would give the old hard drive a clean up, so before I dump a load of rubbish I thought I'd better answer these before I throw everything in the recycle bin. Let's start with a lady from New Jersey who goes by the name of Dorothy who gave me a very interesting offer for the next time I'm in New York. If you're reading this Dorothy, could you send Jacky your email address so I can reply to you. I've just opened up a "secret" Hotmail account so I can send replies without pestering the lovely Mrs Smith all the time, and to test it I went to the guestbook and picked a few names at random. Maybe I should reply to the irate drummer, but if I do that he'll just reply to me and the girls in the office will miss out on laughing at him as well. Staying with the skin bashers for a mo, Ron Hansen in Madison is a drummer, and said he liked my jokes and reckons Mr Irate uses three sticks, two in his hands and one up his arse (his words not mine). Would I be correct in saying your a Zep fan Ron? Today's question is, "What do you get if you cross a drummer with a roadie?" The answer is a stupid roadie.

Moving on, last time around I mentioned a drink which we consumed in Brazil, and the charming Sonia and Dina informed me it was called Caipirinha, and a pleasant little tipple it was to. Somewhere in Australia there is a lady called Karen who is listening to the Offspring CD non-stop, so I'm gonna have to try and answer her question as she has such great musical tastes, even though she wants to know the..........(flashing lights, fireworks, drum roll) Hoover Salesman Story. ARGHHHH. Its actually a very short tale, and I think it's quiet boring but it seems to have grown in stature over the years, and as always I'm gonna drag it out and start from the first skiing expedition that I ventured on with RT.

Having checked my trendy little biog mag, I reckon the year is 1980, and the dynamic duo are in Montreux putting the finishing touches to Fun in Space and we have a few days off before a tour starts in Zurich when Rog says, "Let's go skiing." He had skied a few times before and was ok at it, but I had never put a pair of skis on in my life. I said, "Lets go, but you ski and I'll just get pissed." He then went on about what a buzz it is and how I would love it, etc. As we were touring soon our American crew had to fly out, so I called up Jim Devenney and told him to come over a couple of days earlier cause we were gonna ski. Jim is a great skier and was on the first flight available and I picked him up at Geneva airport ready for some fun. That night we hit the town and have too many drinks and Rog goes off to bed semi early, while Jim and myself sat out on the jetty of Duckingham Palace with a ghetto blaster, Derek and Clive tapes, and a vat of wine singing disgusting songs at full blast, which must have echoed over to France. Suddenly we hear a French voice screaming at us and we have no idea what he was saying so we carried on goofing around, and the next thing I hear is a huge splash as Devenney falls in.

Let me assure you that a drunk trying to get a drunk out of Lake Geneva is not an easy task, but we succeed and head back to DP and retire to our rooms. I'd just got into bed when I hear a crash and go to investigate, only to find JD had gone in the wrong room and was trying to get into a baby's cot, and getting him out of there was harder than getting him of the lake.

Next day Roger, Dave Richards, his wife Collette, Jim and myself set off to Zermatt, and on arrival we stock up on skis, passes and other skiing paraphernalia (big words now!) Dinner, drinks and off to bed. Next morning we're up and ready to go, and thinking I'll never ski again after this I refuse to waste money on a ski suit, so I wear jeans. My second wrong move, the first was agreeing to go. The hotel owner wouldn't let us leave the hotel without first drinking a couple of Sambuccas, not my idea of a good breakfast, eggs, bacon, tea, toast and Italian liqueurs, but who are we to refuse. Next I've got to try and walk in those godamn boots, and we eventually arrive at the top of the Matterhorn.

The OK skiers, RT and Dave set off on their own, Collette begins a very slow trip down while JD tells me he'll stay and teach me. On go the skis, and down I go, flat on my arse. Up I get and I'm off, for all of about 2ft before I'm down again. This is not any fun. After a couple more tumbles my great mate Jim said, "If you're gonna f*** around I'm going." And thats the last I saw of him all day. Thanks pal. I'm standing there watching people ski and think, "It can't be that hard. If you stand like this, lean like that, you can ski." So I stand and lean in the correct positions and I'm away, screeching down a mountain with only one very small problem, I have no idea how to turn or stop, so as I'm flying past Collette, and she reckons I looked very worried, I yelled for some advice and all she said was, "DIVE." Sound advice, so thats what I do, and by now I'm getting wet. I wait for her and then we set off together, the blind leading the blind, with me diving at the slightest bit of speed or bend in the piste. A million years later we eventually reach the bottom of this awful slope and it's finally over. Wrong. Theres a T-bar to get on so we wait in line till it's our turn. You're supposed to put the bar just under your bum and it drags you up, but I'm 6ft and Collettes about 5ft 5in, so the bar was either in the middle of her back or around my knees, and no one told me not to sit on the f***ing thing and we bounced around for a while until we fell off. I'm now getting really pissed off with all this, "Get me a helicopter," I demanded from Collete. She told me they don't just send them, you have to be hurt. I replied with, "I'll break my f***ing arm but I've gotta get off this mountain." Realising I'm not getting a copter I light a ciggie and ponder.

We agree to split up and go with someone our own height, so I ended up with a great German guy who was really helpful. Once on the T-bar I can see that it goes way up and I would have to ski back down to base camp, and in case you've forgotten, I can't ski, so I said that I was gonna bail out, and jumped off. I then head of in a straight line to the cable car, skis on the shoulder and wading through 3ft of snow in a pair of very heavy and very cold jeans. What seemed like hours of wading I make civilisation and head to the bar for a triple strength coffee and a triple scotch while everyone gawked at me cause I looked like I had a shower fully clothed. Yeah, I wanna do this again.

Dinner that night was great fun for the others cause they got to take the piss out of me. Their day will come. The rest of the nights activities shall remain sealed away, but a good time was had by one and all. The tour went smoothly and I try and put Zermatt behind me, except Collette, still to this day, takes great delight in telling everyone about it, and everytime she says it she makes me look more and more pathetic.

The next winter appears and I'm at home and the phone rings, "CT, wanna go skiing?" To which my reply was nothing like, "Oh I'd love to you fabulous little drummer boy." I can't believe he talked me into it again, but this time we were gonna do things correctly and go to Aviemore in Scotland and take lessons, this was the saving factor in his plan. So once again we pile into the Range Rover and aim north. We split the driving (for a change) and had a good journey up through the snow covered mountains till we get to the resort. A usual night was on the cards, dinner, drinks and bed, then up bright and early for some lessons and a good day on the slopes. This time we've both got the correct outfits so we head off to where our little group of idiot skiers are. We're all standing in a line, with Rog and me at the end, and each person gets to snow-plough a few feet. These clowns have less idea than my first try, and it's also incredibly cold and we've now got icicles hanging off our hair. It's our turn and we both look like olympic champions, but the only thing wrong with getting it right the first time is that the instructor then turns his attentions back to the start of the line. Here I am once again standing on the top of a mountain, freezing cold with two 'things' stuck on the end of a pair of stupid boots, and I inform His Royal Highness that the next trip away involves sand and sun, no excuses, end of argument. RT agreed that this wasn't much fun and thought my idea worth considering.

We finally heard the two magic words, "Lunch Break." We're gone in search of some good HOT food and a nice beaujolais, and we found both. We also found that the hotel bar had an amazing selection of whisky, and we had to try as many as possible. We're now semi pissed and decide that as we're warm we might as well go back to this lesson even though we are very late, and the instructor looked at us and said, "Where have you two been?" Rog came back with "Trying lots of your wonderful scotch's." He was fine with that answer and we carried on trying to learn something, and would you believe by the end of the day I could actually turn and stop.

Back to the hotel for a nap before dinner. Over a very nice meal and a couple of little drinkettes we agree that it's far to cold here and we'll clear off the next day, so into the bar we go with our earlier mission of trying all the scotch's. We were sitting at a table chatting away and cracking jokes with each other and end up talking to the couple on the next table, swapping skiing stories, needless to say mine were very short, and having a bit of a laugh, when the woman said, "What do you two do for a living?" God knows why, but I said; "We're Hoover salesmen." At first they didn't believe us but we both started going on about the difference between domestic and industrial cleaners, uprights, backpack types, ones you pull along the floor. We went on about the different wattage, suction power, the amount of pressure on Axminsters and Wilton carpets, even a couple of car expressions like overhead this and thats. What the hell do we know about vacuum cleaners? But boy are we good at this. After about 30 mins of utter bullshit the subject finally changed and they wished us all the best with our door to door salesmanship and off they went to bed. We then had to reassure each other what we actually did for a living, had some more drinks and tried to work out how we knew so much about cleaners as both of us have spent most of our lives trying to stay well away from them. We spent the drive back to London having a good laugh about the one day we spent in a Scottish ski resort.

Well that's it folks, the story of a small company, R & C Taylor,..... Hoover Salesmen. I did learn to ski quite well, and whilst in Gstadd doing the Shove it album Spike flew out cause he fancied learning to ski, and the fool asked me to teach him. I wasn't much help because everytime he fell over I burst out laughing cause I kept seeing myself in Zermatt, and Spike looked just as worried and stupid as I did.

Before I go I noticed that Jacky had to get her boiler fixed and said for me not to make a comment, but little things like that spark me off and I remembered that when we were recording in the Townhouse Studios I had a little, no a big affair with the studio chef. Every three months Virgin would do a magazine for all their staff, written by all the heads of various departments, airlines, studios, video, shops, films, etc. and they would say what was going on with their particular section. Alan Douglas, who was chief engineer of all Virgin studios wrote who was recording where, and he wrote, "Queen are in studio 4, and Crystal, their main man is stoking the kitchen boiler." I thought that was hilarious, but Jane went ballistic. That's it for now.

Loadsa luv Crystal (Carpet cleaner to the stars)

#oh i suppose i forgot to queue this! #queen #queen band #roger taylor #roger meddows taylor #spike edney #crystal taylor #crystal's tales

[spooky-z]

HIT

Maribat by @ozmav

Warnings: aggression and language

Almost 3K.

All Marinette could see was red, purple and yellow against pale skin.

It was mostly red, the edges already becoming purple and around a sick yellow.

She could blink, look away, try to think of something else, but the image was glued to her eyes.

The anger burning under the skin, the blood running hot in her veins, heart beating angrily against her ribs. She could feel the metallic taste of the cut that her teeth opened on her lip.

Marinette had never felt more hatred for anyone than she did at that moment.

She wanted to jump the jugular and pull out the trachea with her teeth.

The urge to kill.

"... you better get away from her." Damian growled. His face contorted with disgust.

“Who do you think you are to intrude on a family affair?!” Audrey Bourgeois stood, arrogant and pompous, glancing disdainfully at the Pack.

Chloe by her side, her eyes puffy, hair down shadowing her face and lips trembling from holding back the crying. The handprint on the pale cheek was obvious and clearly visible despite the hair to cover.

She didn't dare look at her friends. At the pack. The humiliation was a heavy feeling, seeming worse every moment she heard the shutter sound of a phone camera toward her.

Dupont would have something to talk about for weeks now.

"... who does he think he is?!" Kagami says. She was the only one who seemed coolly calm. "Who YOU think you are." There were more than sharp words coming out. There were canines becoming sharper by the moment and a lack of control going on.

Audrey seems offended by the girl’s words.

"Lower your tone, young lady." She replies. Her tone was threatening. “Do you know who you are talking to? I'm Audrey Bourgeois, one of the greatest designers of the world. Wife of the mayor of Paris. And I can end your family's life in two seconds.”

Adrien smiles mockingly at the woman's words. "I'd love to see that happen... Auntie."

The woman chokes offended at the nickname, but doesn't seem surprised by the boy's behavior.

She raises her eyebrow.

"When Gabriel told me that you were in your rebel phase and that you were taking Chloe the wrong way, I really didn't believe it." She says. "But I see this time he has some reason to warn me."

The Pack grunts at the man's name.

"I knew that piece of trash wouldn't be quiet." Max mutters venomously.

"It's time we put an end to this old man." Kim mumbles back.

Audrey seemed to tire of all the little show they were giving Dupont's students and grabbed Chloe's arm, trying to pull the girl into the limo parked on the sidewalk.

“Come on Chloe, you have to pack your bags. We leave for New York today.” She turns, ignoring the Pack.

Something pops in Marinette, because all she can do is slap Audrey's hand away from Chloe and put herself between them. She probably looked like a wild animal right now.

The stylist shrugs her arm, holding her injured hand. Red face in indignation.

"Don't touch her." Marinette says. "Or I'll be forced to do something you won't like."

“Oh? What are you going to do? Tell your parents? You're nobody, little girl.” Audrey laughs sarcastically. “Chloe, let's go. Now."

"Nette, please, I don't want you to get in trouble." Chloe whispers, the pain was clear in the words.

The sound that comes from Marinette's chest is animalistic. The sound made the Pack shudder with the force and the dark feeling dripping into it.

Marinette would not let Chloe be taken. Not by Audrey, at least.

She doesn't look away from the adult Bourgeois before firing commands at the Pack.

"Damian, call Richard." The boy is quick to pick up the phone. “Adrien, call Clark and Lois. Let them know they can release that story in the newspaper.” The blonde doesn't even blink at the command. “Kim, Max and Luka, take Chloe to my house and don't let her out of sight.” Max and Kim surround Chloe and she gets carried away.

"Are you sure you want me to go, Mari?" Luka asks quietly, hesitating to leave. He knew that Damian and Adrien were not good at being Marinette's conscience in difficult situations. "I can stay and Adrien go with Chloe."

Marinette waves denying it. She looks at him just fast enough to calm him down before turning her attention back to Audrey.

“Kagami will stay with me and can keep me from doing something extreme.” Responds. "Chloe will need you more now."

“Alright, bu-”

"I'll call if I need support." Kagami is quick to answer him.

Luka hesitates for two more seconds before running after the other three who were waiting in the car with Auguste (aka Gorilla).

When only Damian, Marinette, Adrien and Kagami were left with Audrey (besides the audience watching), Marinette calmed down. The heated air was suddenly getting cold.

She was ready to attack.

“Do you really think hiding Chloe from me is going to work? I am her mother! The first lady! I run this town!” Audrey starts to scream. "Nothing you do will stop me from taking my daughter away from this... filthy relationship going on here."

Kagami steps forward wanting to attack the woman, but Adrien holds her hand and she stops, coming back to herself.

Damian had hung up the phone signaling an "OK" with his fingers.

"How about you shut up?" He says. “Keep talking will only make your situation worse.”

“Make my situation worse? What the hell are you talking about?!”

"He's talking about you getting arrested." Marinette replies without emotion. "Assault on a minor, threats, conspiracy with another adult to kidnap a child... There is a long list of your crimes."

Audrey looks attacked by Marinette's words, but also snorts in confusion.

“Conspiracy to kidnap a child?!” She grits her teeth. “Look at me and tell me if I look like someone who kidnaps someone! She is my daughter and I have the right to take her wherever I want when I want.”

Adrien laughs cynically at the woman.

"Not. You don't have.” He says. "Do you remember signing a document giving Chloe full custody to the mayor after signing the divorce a few months ago?"

"How-"

“Yeah, we know you are no longer the mayor's wife and you have no right to do what you did. If you left the country with Chloe without André's written permission, it would become a kidnapping.” Kagami cuts her off.

“She's my daughter!” Audrey stomps her foot.

"No, she is not. You gave up that right and now you hit her.” Damian growls. "You're lucky that murder is against the law, because otherwise..." He whispers deadly, but she can hear.

Audrey turns pale at the boy's words. Seeming to notice for the first time that the four teenagers had equal expressions of hate.

She opened her mouth to say something more, but the sound of police car sirens interrupted her and soon Dick was getting out of the car with Roger.

"Good afternoon." The Parisian cop politely greets, Dick nods without saying anything. “We received a complaint of public disorder and aggression against a minor.”

Audrey, knowing she would be in trouble, tries to get out of the situation by playing the victim.

"Officers, please, those brats went crazy and kidnapped my daughter!" There was a fake tear running down her cheek.

"What?!" Damian complains indignantly. "This crazy woman who was trying to kidnap one of us!"

Roger seemed frankly unsure of what to do, while Dick was watching the scene analytically. He was probably choosing the best way to end Audrey Bourgeois in front of everyone.

"What? No! You who kidnapped my Chloe and assaulted me!” She pointed her finger theatrically. “They threatened me, officer! Me! The first lady!”

"Madam, please." Roger takes Audrey by the shoulders and the woman makes an expression of disgust at the gesture. “Let's calm down. This confusion is attracting a much bigger audience than before.”

Only then does Audrey seem to notice that not only did Dupont's students watch (and film), but pedestrians passing by stopped to watch the confusion.

A TVi car getting closer and closer to guarantee the gossip of the day.

"Great! So, everyone learns about the sordid behavior that this school promotes towards students and how it corrupted my daughter!”

“Audrey Bourgeois-“ Marinette takes a step forward, looking at the woman and shaking her head. "Sorry! I meant Audrey Bisset.” She winks conspiratorially with the stylist's offended expression. "Here are your options."

She holds up a finger to signal "1" and begins, a soft voice.

"The first option is for you to leave now, without making another scene and we will not report you to these kind officers here."

The middle finger raises following the index finger. The "2".

"The second is that you continue and we are obliged to report you."

The ring finger raises to "3".

"Or I can just release very intimate files of yours on the internet and in the press, if you insist." Marinette lowers her arm and crosses the two behind her back, in a timid gesture. “Look, I knew you had some skeletons in the closet, but wow! What we found is enough to buy the entire IKEA and there is still no closet to store the bones.”

Roger, despite not appearing to like what Marinette was talking about, was curious about what she knew.

He was never a fan of Audrey Bourgeois for the way the woman treated her husband and daughter. Roger hated it every time Sabrina came home crying because Chloe had been particularly mean to her due to Audrey's influence.

The woman forced herself to be as unpleasant as possible and did not seem to have a drop of love in her heart.

Just greed and status.

“What.” Audrey babbles.

"Evan Halle." Kagami throws the name in the air, relaxed.

Audrey gets two shades paler. "How do you-"

"Laurence Green." Adrien continues.

The woman's skin changes to a greenish tone.

"Alright! I'm leaving!" She screams. "But you have to promise that the press will not know those names!"

"Deal!" Marinette waves happily. A sweet, very sweet smile, on the lips.

Audrey puts the sunglasses back on her face, composing herself. She pretends not to notice the press filming everything live for viewers at home and turns to get into the limo.

"Odette Han." Dick finally speaks and with that Audrey seems ready to run at any moment. “This is part of some of the names listed in the files. You will have to accompany us to the police station.”

He steps in front of her, preventing Audrey from trying to escape. Roger followed his movement and took the stylist by the arm.

“It will be good if you collaborate with us. Otherwise, we will be forced to handcuff you in front of everyone.” He says when Audrey tries to break free.

She looks at Marinette, anger in her expression and her eyes are wet with humiliation.

"You said you wouldn't let anyone know!" She rages at Marinette, losing her composure for the first time.

She struggles in Roger's grip, wanting to move forward on Marinette, but the man has an iron grip on the woman's arm and she stops.

Damian smirks. A dangerous look.

"She said she wouldn't release it in the press or on the internet." He answers. "And I believe that she is fulfilling the agreement, since the police are not part of the press."

Dick takes the opportunity to put the handcuffs on Audrey's wrists. “And she won't be the one to tell the press. It will be me.”

When Audrey starts struggling again trying to break free, Roger drags her into the police car. Leaving Dick with the teenagers.

“Thank you so much for your help, Richard. She wouldn't give up on Chloe if you hadn't arrived.” Marinette sighs a smile.

Dick raises an eyebrow, seeming not at all convinced by the false sincerity in the girl's words. He knew she could be quite manipulative when needed.

"You're welcome." He answers. “We were lucky to have obtained these files before she arrived in Paris. Chloe will be safe now.”

Kagami snorts. "What are you talking about? Chloe was always safe. Audrey only touched her because that was the plan.”

"Yes! And everything came out the way we planned!” Adrien claps the hands, a huge smile on his face.

"The slap was much stronger than imagined, but it gave the effect we wanted." Damian nods sharply. "The anger I felt when I saw the mark was genuine."

Dick's eyes widen in surprise.

"Wait, did you know this was going to happen?"

“Duh. Of course." Marinette replies. “Appearing at school all together and happy. We knew there would be gossip, especially nasty gossip from our class.” She rolls her eyes. "So, we took advantage of that knowing that Lila wouldn't be quiet and we let her get closer to Gabriel."

“But how were you sure he was going to talk to Audrey? I thought they didn't get along.”

"Because Gabriel likes to be in control." Kagami speaks. “He doesn't like to be told. Especially if the people giving the order are children.”

“My father wants to isolate me. If I lose all my friends, he will be able to regain control over me as before.”

"So, Gabriel, thinking that Audrey would take Chloe away from us, warns the woman about an "orgy" involving only daughter she has and she comes running to save her." Damian continues.

“But you didn't need evidence of the crimes she committed to get her away from Chloe. She had no right, so she would be arrested even if you didn't do anything.” Dick crosses his arms. "So why all this staging?"

Marinette smiles, a dark mood shining in the blueberry eyes.

"Because that way we send a message to everyone, especially Gabriel."

"And what message would that be?" Dick questions.

"Never mess with the Pack."

The “otherwise” was left unsaid, but the meaning was clear.

EXTRA 1:

"I didn't know you could be such a good actress, Apis." Kim praises Chloe, eyes glued to the news channel.

The girl snorts. "I am good at everything."

Max jumps on the couch, turning up the sound of the TV when a footage (probably from a cell phone, if judged by the image quality), particularly good of Chloe's marked face, appeared on the screen.

"Fuck." He swears in wonder. "It looks a lot worse on TV."

Luka sits next to the three and places the ice pack gently on Chloe's face, who moans gratefully.

That hurt like hell.

"I didn't think Audrey would be that strong." Luka comments. "Your face will be swollen for a few days, Apis."

"All for the greater good." She sighs.

They would have no more to worry about for a while.

EXTRA 2:

"What the hell was this all about?" Ivan grumbles.

“Why was Chloe's mother arrested? Anybody know?" Rose asks.

Alix swallows a sigh when she sees Nadja Chamack announce that Audrey Bisset has been arrested for promoting slave labor in her clothing line, bribery and blackmail.

"Guys, come see this!" She calls.

They were all gathered on Juleka's boat (thinking that Chloe had gone there with Luka) wanting to know what it was all about in front of the school.

"Damn it. The mayor's wife is hardcore." Nino whistles in surprise.

"It looks like they're not together anymore." Alya says. Eyes glued to the cell phone. “The mayor filed for divorce five months ago and took custody of Chloe. It looked like she wanted to take Chloe to New York without his permission and then the police were called.”

"But how did he know that?" Nathaniel asks. "That she was trying to get Chloe out of Paris?"

"Hm... It says here that 'friends concerned about the physical and emotional integrity of the mayor's daughter, called the police and made the report'." Juleka reads aloud.

"They?" Sabrina asks.

"They." Alya waves.

Lila couldn't help thinking that Marinette's group was unpleasantly scary. They didn't seem to take any effort to break down the obstacles on the way.

She feared for when her time came.

Because she was not stupid.

Her time was coming.

[tag list]

@northernbluetongue​ @gimme-more-caffeine @kris-pines04​ @drarryismylife101​ @puzzlelover431​ @18-fandoms-unite-08​ @krispydefendorpolice​ @asheanomhominem​  @you-will-never-know-how-i-think @cutechip​ @just-an-avarage-nerds-blog​ @lirulua​ @j-a-n-e-d-o-e @naclychilli​ @the-blindwatcher​ @xxmdsxx​ @emootaku-666​ @nicknnie​​ @multplelifes​​ @slytherinhquinn​​ @caffeinetheory​​ @clumsy-owl-4178​​ @k-poplunardreams​​ @moonystars14​​ @damianette-is-life​​ @

#pack AU #daminette #lukadrien #chlogami #ml salt #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #maribat #adrien agreste #chloe bourgeois #audrey bourgeois #luka couffaine #max kante #le chien kim #Kagami Tsurugi #damian

[chenlucys]

Right in front of you (2/2)

As promised here’s part 2. Check out for part 1 if you haven’t seen it yet. Hope you guys enjoy this one as well!!

Lucy rested her wine glass on the coffee table and walked over to the island where she was only a few feet away from Tim. She scanned his face for a reason for his sudden appearance but all she noticed was that he looked tired, haggard actually. It was a long week, and she knew Tim filling in for Sergeant Grey as watch commander was starting to take a toll on him. She had barely seen him that week, only at roll call and at the food trucks during lunch but she didn’t have time to talk during either of those times. 

Now here he was standing in front of her; this man could play tough around anyone but if anybody could get to him, it was Lucy Chen. She knew his weak spots, she wanted to understand him, something that his ex-wife hadn’t done even when they were still married. She knew this man all too well.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked, pushing his hands deeper into his pockets, and turning to face her. 

“No. She had work to do anyway. Tim nodded as Lucy answered. “Tamara I can hear you listening, you know.” Lucy motioned to the door and picked up her keys, “Can we talk downstairs?”.

“Yeah.” He opened the door for her and Lucy noted that he was a lot more quiet than usual, not uttering a word until they were outside and alone.

“How are things with the puppy?” she finally heard him say, a hint of teasing in his voice.

“Great. I know you said not to bring your puppy home but I’m just trying to make sure there’s at least one person who cares about her.” There was a pause after she answered and she figured she would have to initiate the conversation.

“You’re too good of a person, you know that?”

“I’ll take that as a compliment so thank you.” she knew he would give her a lecture about taking Tamara in, so she quickly changed the topic. “So, you said you wanted to talk?”

“How was your week?”

She raised an eyebrow at him, “Tim Bradford did you come all the way over here to ask me about work?”

“Then I get accused of not being nice.” She knew he was only teasing from the smirk on his lips. 

“My week was..eventful. Yeah well, you know that much already.” She had seen him when he signed off on the incident reports and while it wasn’t for long, she enjoyed seeing him nevertheless. “Richards is alert.”

“You mean he talks a lot.”

They both laughed at Tim’s blatant statement. 

“Yes, but I don’t mind it. I mean, my last partner was sort of pain in my ass and never talked to me.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, this guy made my days hell and refused to let me drive.”

“Hmm maybe he was trying to teach you how to be a good cop.”

She realized she’d been staring at him the whole time and planted her eyes on the ground. “I miss him.”

“Wait. What was that Officer Chen? You miss me?!”

She covered her mouth to keep from laughing out loud, “I am never telling you anything again.” Their eyes met each other then and smiled. “And I know you miss the action.”

“It’s been a tough transition. I went from being out on patrol every day to spending my days in the office. I thought I’d be used to it by now at least.” She hadn’t expected Tim to be so open about his experience as watch commander. Grey was still in recovery and had another six weeks before he was expected to return to work. 

“Hey,” she rested her hand on his arm bringing his attention back to her, “Make the best of this because soon you’ll be back on the streets with me.”

“They’re making Grey captain and they want me to take over permanently.” He watched the smile drop from her face as she struggled to remain positive. She knew that it meant they wouldn’t be working together again and wished her probationary training wasn’t over. “Boot, I never said I’d take it.”

She scanned his face for an explanation then. “You want my opinion? Why?”

“Because your opinion matters to me. I thought that’s what friends are for.” He knew that admitting they were friends would perk her up again. 

“You came here to get my opinion but I think you already made your decision and you want validation-”

“I never said validation.”

“when you already made the right choice. You wouldn’t ask me what I think unless you knew you were gonna accept it. For what it’s worth I think you’re going to do great. I mean come on, I should know, you trained me. Plus you’ve already had a month on the job.”

“A month is a lot different than ten years Lucy.”

“Tim, it’s like you told Rachel, dream jobs only come around once. It’s a rare opportunity and you need to take it while it’s still available. You taught me that.”

He had stopped listening to her a while ago but kept staring at her lips. Wondered what it would be like to kiss them. What they tasted like. It wasn’t the first time he had thought about it but Tim was a stickler for rules and he knew it was a point of no return. That it would change the way they saw each forever. He didn’t have a plan, just knew that he wanted the woman standing in front of him to be in his life, not just his job. He wanted to share things with her that he never told anyone. He wanted to open himself up to her. He didn’t know exactly when it started but there was only one person he wanted, “You think I should take the risk?

“You won’t know unless you try and-”

He would let her finish that statement another time. He gently cupped her face in his hands and pressing his lips against hers, roughly at first and then more gently, he moved his hands to wrap her waist and pull her against his body. She slowly slid her hands around his neck, reciprocating the kiss.

They didn’t know how long they’d been standing there before they both drew back from each other, their foreheads still pressed together. Lucy closed her eyes trying to savour the unexpected, long-awaited moment. 

He leaned back to look into her eyes. “You told me I would regret not taking the chance. I’m taking a chance on you.”

She still held onto him not wanting to let go, “So that’s what you meant at the wedding.”

“Yeah, but back then I meant as my rookie. I want to take a chance on you, Lucy. Forget the rules, some people matter more. ”

----------------

Lucy quietly closed the door, squeezing the handle careful not to make any noise as she entered the dark apartment. Tamara peeked out from her bedroom and Lucy could make out her smirk even in the dark. “Nothing going on between you two, huh?”

#let me know what you think! #sorry it took a while to post #it's been a long week #chenford #tucy #lucy chen #tim bradford #the rookie

[mst3kproject]

The Monster Maker

I could have sworn J. Carroll Naish was on MST3K at some point but the only thing I can find from his filmography that has appeared on this blog is Dracula vs Frankenstein, in which he played Dr. D'Ray.  Not that it matters.  The Monster Maker's producer, Sigmund Neufeld, also brought us MST3K feature The Mad Monster, and writer Sam Newfield penned both that film and I Accuse my Parents (not to mention the world's only all-midget cowboy musical, Terror of Tiny Town), but mostly I'm watching this movie because... well, you know, it sucks.

I know what you're thinking, and as far as I can tell, no, Sigmund Neufeld and Sam Newfield are not the same guy who's just bad at pseudonyms.

Anthony Lawrence is one of the world's greatest pianists, but with a concert tour finished he's looking forward to relaxing and spending some time with his daughter Patricia and her fiance Bob.  Sadly, this is not to be, as Patricia has come to the attention of Dr. Igor Markov, who believes her to be the reincarnation of his dead wife Leonora.  He spends weeks harassing poor Pat, until her father storms over to Markov's office to tell him where he can shove his attentions. Little does Lawrence know he's walking into a trap.  Markov has been experimenting on animals in his basement, and if Lawrence doesn't hand over Patricia, the next syringe is for him!

I have mixed feelings about this movie.  It surprisingly subverts several tropes of the mad scientist movie, including some it deliberately sets up only to pull the rug out from under them, resulting in a surprisingly happy ending.  On the other hand, it does this in ways that aren't always very satisfying, and its treatment of the disabled is frightful.

For an illustrative example, let's take Dr. Markov's caged gorilla.  The movie never tells us why he has a caged gorilla.  He says it's vital to his work but we never see him do anything much with it... I assume it's there because the caged gorilla was a standard part of the mad scientist lab equipment in the 1940s and 50s.  The only time we see him interact with it is when he sets it loose in the middle of the night to murder his traitorous assistant, Maxine, who had threatened to go to the police.  We cut to the gorilla back in its cage the next morning, and we assume Maxine is dead – only to have her walk in and tell us that her protective dog drove the gorilla back to the lab.

This is kind of a fun moment, not only because it's a surprise but because everything in it was set up, not just the gorilla but the animosity between it and the dog.  It also enables the eventual happy ending – after Markov is killed, Patricia worries that nobody else will be able to help her father. However, Maxine is familiar with Markov's work, and assures her that Lawrence will be just fine with a few weeks of treatment.  That's all quite nice for a mad scientist movie of this vintage!  It's also interesting in that it tells us these tropes were around to be subverted – that audiences in 1944 had already seen enough stupid mad scientist movies to know that the gorilla is supposed to kill the traitorous assistant and that the ending is supposed to be a tragedy.

The problem is that this leaves the gorilla with no reason to be in the movie at all besides to fake us out.  It ultimately has no effect on the plot whatsoever other than to establish Markov as a bastard, which by now we already knew.  You cannot put Chekov's Gorilla in a cage in act one, wave it around in act two before putting it back with a 'psych!', and then not have it break somebody's neck in act three.  It still has to do something, or you're just being a tease.

The fact that Maxine is able to cure Lawrence speaks to the fact that The Monster Maker is surprisingly respectful of its women.  Maxine is quite intelligent and knows her love for Markov is self-destructive, but feels she has devoted too much of her life to him to leave him now.  Patricia is a less substantial character, but her father treats her with great respect – when Markov demands Patricia in exchange for a cure, Lawrence continues to refuse even after the mad doctor has robbed him of his friends, his passion, and his career.  Pat's fiance Bob has fewer principles, as he repeatedly lies to her in the belief that he is protecting her from the truth, but this too is presented as the wrong thing to do and I hope we're meant to believe Bob learns from it. The screenwriters' general attitude seems to be that women should be allowed to make up their own minds about things.

Markov, as the villain, is also the movie's misogynist, and this is in no way subtle.  He wants to marry Patricia because she resembles Leonora – and that's it.  Her personality, her background, and her wishes mean nothing to him.  All he cares about is her face.  What she represents to him is an attempt to undo the wrong he did to Leonora herself.  We eventually learn that Leonora left him for another man, and in revenge he injected her with his monster juice.  He had hoped that her new love would leave her because she was no longer beautiful, but in fact Leonora committed suicide because she couldn't stand to look at herself in the mirror.

This tends to make one wonder what would have happened if Leonora had tried to crawl back to Markov.  At the time this happened, he didn't yet have a cure for his creations.  Would he have gone on to find one sooner in order to help her?  Or would he, too, have rejected her now that she was ugly?  I kind of suspect the latter.  He's only sorry about any of this because she died.  He wanted her back less than he wanted her to live in misery, knowing that without her looks she would have no value.

Interestingly, this also applies somewhat to Lawrence.  As his condition progresses, he locks himself in his room and puts records on so that nobody will realize he is now unable to play the piano... but he also keeps the lights off and refuses to admit anybody, too ashamed to show his face.  Ugliness apparently makes both sexes unfit company for the rest of us.

Markov himself speaks with a German accent despite having a Russian name. He manages to be slightly less creepy than the Great Vorelli or Dr. Carlo Lombardi, but only because he never resorts to rape via hypnosis.  Upon realizing he has found a cure for a terrible disease, his first reaction is to triumphantly declare that he can charge whatever he wants for it... eighty years later, that's still depressingly relevant.

So all this is okay and at times fairly progressive for the 1940s, but now we have to get into The Monster Maker's attitude towards the disabled.  I've been a little cagey about exactly what it is Dr. Markov is doing to his victims, and you've probably been picturing some sort of mutagen that makes them go all lumpy and melty like that guy in Robocop. Unfortunately, no.  Remember acromegaly, the hormonal disorder that Richard Kiel and Rondo Hatton suffered from?  Yeah.  Markov has a bottle of it in his cupboard.

I don't know how you bottle acromegaly, but at least they did better than the people who made Tarantula and fucking spelled it right.

Acromegaly is not a cheerful diagnosis.  Lawrence's doctor tells him it's not fatal, but that isn't always true – a lot of sufferers, including Hatton, die from the complications.  It disfigures the head, hands, and feet, and would definitely be a devastating disease for a pianist... all of which makes it that much worse that this stupid movie keeps using the word 'monster'.  Lawrence even describes himself as such, comparing his situation to that of Frankenstein's Monster and declaring that he will similarly kill Markov for what he has done to him.  In the end he does exactly that, and the movie never addresses it on any level besides 'boy, good thing the bad guy is dead!'

This is probably because, clearly, the real monster Markov has made is himself... but that's subtext.  In the text, his monsters are his overgrown pigs and Anthony Lawrence.  I just blasted Tarantula for spelling the name of the condition incorrectly, but that movie at least did not even imply that its human acromegaliacs were 'monsters'.  They were in every way victims, even when their sufferings were as a result of experimenting on themselves.  Lawrence is also a victim, but the movie plays up the 'monster' idea in more than just the title: Lawrence's condition also makes him restless and prone to violence, as he repeatedly attacks Markov and at one point must be tied to a bed to prevent him doing so.  Markov suggests that this is a side effect of the hormonal problems, but Lawrence's own belief that he's becoming a 'monster' also appears to have something to do with it.

In the end, this movie is way too much like The Brute Man, in telling us that the ugly and disabled can never be an accepted part of society.  Hal Moffat was forced into the shadows, while Anthony Lawrence takes to them voluntarily, but for the same reason: ugliness is made for gawking at, not for normal relationships such as that between partners, or parents and children.  Fuck that.

#mst3k #reviews #the monster maker #episodes that never were #guys in gorilla suits #40s #tw: rape

[aenariasbookshelf]

WandaVision, episode 7

Guess who’s got terrible anxiety-related insomnia lately that means she was awake at 4 am to watch the latest episode of WandaVision right away?

This gal.

So...spoilers ahoy.

This is your warning - here be spoilers for the episode.

This post will be tagged appropriately, so if you have spoilers anywhere in your blacklist it should snag this post.

Is that enough warning for spoilers?

Okay, here we go.

**********

In which we get a lot of (unsurprising) answers, and are now winding up for the climax of the entire show.

Are we at all surprised that SWORD gets turned into a circus?  I’m not, because that whole agency is a freakin’ clown car at this point, and Hayward is the chief clown.  And we have confirmation now that Hayward is all about getting Vision back and weaponizing him.  Which, yeah, we figured, but confirmation.  Hayward’s a dick, but not the ultimate bad guy.

That’s the theme of this episode: Confirmation. 

Mah baby Darcy Lewis is still awesome, shaking off her chains and giving that transformed SWORD agent the punch he so rightly deserves. *chef’s kiss*  Aside from that, she’s a little bit Miss Exposition in this episode and not much else, so I’m hoping we’ll see some more goodness from her in the next two episodes.  She’s still in the Hex, and I have to think she’s going to have more of a role to play yet.

Vision: brain scrambled, yet still trying to figure out what the hell’s going on.  Just about done with everyone’s shit and wants his wife back.  I’m thinking this will also come in handy in the next episode too.

Monica freakin’ Rambeau. I LOVE YOU. Smart and stubborn and taking all of those good qualities from the people who raised you and turning you into something even more amazing than you were before.  All this to say that YES, we are getting Photon, or Spectrum, or whatever name you’re going by in this show and I cannot wait to see you really light it up.  Also, nice touch with the undersuit from the SWORD space suit - it bears a strong, strong resemblance to her superhero gear from the comics.  I admit, I squeed.

Also, and this may be a little selfish of me, I’m kind of glad that Monica’s contacts were just rogue SWORD agents and not a member of the Fantastic Four being introduced early.  While it would have been fantastic (pardon the pun) it’ll let Marvel give them the epic entrance that they deserve. Also, and this is totally a me thing, I have some issues with the popular actors being tossed around to play Reed Richards, so I’m glad I could put that disappointment off for a little longer.

Wanda, listen to Monica.  You’re not the villain here, despite what Hayward wants you to think.  I do like that she’s kind of suffering from an almost magic hangover here - the expansion of the Hex in the last episode really knocked it out of her, and I’m glad we’re seeing the results of that.  Both in Wanda’s tiredness reflected in the 2000s style sitcom (I was totally reminded of The Office here, was anyone else?) and the fact that her grip on the Hex is slipping and going back and forth in time.

Huh, okay, we’ve spotted Dottie and the Mailman again. *makes notes*  Still not sure of their importance, but they were definitely focused on during that scene between Monica and Wanda, so I’m watching them.

And, finally, in the least surprising revelation this episode had for us, Agnes is indeed Agatha Harkness and has had a hand in manipulating this entire thing.  Given that this twist has been predicted since before the show was even airing, the switch to Agatha having her own theme song at the end of the episode (because this is her show now, you know) was more amusing than anything else.  That said, it was a great way to do a quick recap of all of the episodes and give us flashes of what manipulative fuckery she was doing behind the scenes without wasting time on an exposition dump that could just drag on.  Fake!Pietro?  Totally on her.  I’m guessing that messed up Stork is also (...maybe the stork is really a transformed Senor Scratchy?  Idk, the coffee hasn’t kicked in yet so this theory isn’t fully fleshed out).  And, given that she made Billy and Tommy disappear into parts that we haven’t discovered yet, I’d be surprised if this whole thing isn’t to use those boys to her own ends (or Mephisto’s, supposedly.  I’m not sure if Agnes is the big bad here, or if she’s reporting to someone else).

Wanda, my darling, your rage and your grief is powerful, but so is your love for what’s yours.  Remember that, because that’s what’s going to help you out of this mess.

Finally - ooooh, post (mid) credits scene!  We’ve hit the right time in the television timeline for this to make sense too. :D

Is it next Friday yet?

#wandavision #wandavision spoilers #wandavision episode 7 #wanda maximoff #vision #monica rambeau #Darcy Lewis #agatha harkness #long post

[365days365movies]

February 16, 2021: Carol (2015) (Part 1)

...Harold...

Yeah, I had to do this one. Partially because I knew about this film previously, as it was kind of a smash hit when it came out in theaters. It was about as big of a deal as Blue is the Warmest Color, which...we might get there. But, yeah, Carol was already on my radar when I decided to dip into LGBT cinema.

But also...you can thank my girlfriend again. There she is (as she’s choosing to represent herself through GIF form) below.

We love The Owl House. Anyway, I wasn’t aware of the meme until we were watching a movie, and she just screamed “HAROLD THEY’RE LESBIANS!” And after doing some research on that statement...that’s goddamn hilarious. And it all started with Carol, so the writing’s basically on the wall there.

Here’s what I know. This movie stars Cate Blanchett...OK, that’s it! Shall we find out more firsthand? SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap

In New York City, a man enters a bar and restaurant, where he sees an old acquaintance, Therese Belivet (Rooney Mara), who is having dinner with another woman, Carol Aird (Cate Blanchett). And, uh, lemme just say, we’re jumping off RIGHT away, and my girlfriend immediately starts screaming “HAROLD” at the screen.

Anyway, Jake invites her to a party with mutual friends, and Carol and Therese end their dinner date early. As Therese looks out of the window of a car on the way to the party, she thinks backwards through time, and takes us with her. FLASHBACK

Therese wakes up one morning around Christmastime, only to see her boyfriend, Richard Semco (Jake Lacy), ready to take her to work on a bicycle though Central Park. They talk about going to Paris on vacation, an idea about which Therese seems nonchalant. Therese works at Frankenberg’s, a department store that doesn’t exist. As is typical of the season in NYC, shoppers and their children flood the place. We went there on Christmas of 2019, and I grew up in the area. Trust me when I say Christmas in NYC is FUCKIN’ NUTS.

Therese works at the toy counter, and that’s when Carol arrives to get a doll for her daughter. Unfortunately, they’re out of the doll she’s looking for, so Therese offers a model train set to her instead, and the two hit it off basically immediately. And when I say hit it off, they HIT IT OFF. Like...the chemistry is IMMEDIATE. Maybe that’s Cate Blanchett’s pure charisma, but I’m just saying...they have the fastest chemistry establishment that I’ve seen yet.

But oh no! Carol’s forgotten her gloves! However, it doesn’t seem like much results from that, as the work day is soon over, and Therese and Richard go to a movie and a beer with friends Phil (Nik Pajic) and Danny McElroy (John Magaro). That night, having returned home, Therese looks at Carol’s gloves. Using information obtained during the department store visit, she mails the gloves to Carol, at her gorgeous mansion.

Carol is combing her daughter’s hair, as her husband Harge Aird (Kyle Chandler) arrives home with the mail. Things seem somewhat amiss, as Carol seems extremely unhappy. She later calls her at the department store to thank her for the gloves, and offers to buy her lunch that afternoon. She agrees, and the two head to a nice restaurant.

Over the course of the meal, it’s revealed that Carol and Harge are going through a divorce (yeah, that tracks), and Therese’s conflicted on how she feels about her relationship with Richard. Carol invites her to come over at some point, and she agrees.

Later on, while in traffic in the car of a friend, Abby Gerhard (Sarah Paulson), she seems to acknowledge potential attraction between her and Therese, although it’s not exactly set in stone. She heads to a party that evening. Meanwhile, she visits her friend Danny, an aspiring writer, who inquires about her hobby of photography, and then...kisses her...even though she’s dating a friend. Fuckin’ OH BOY, DANNY.

Harge takes Carol home, and he’s 100% still in love with her, and she’s just not feeling it. This may be related to the fact that she and Abby were also once a couple. Yeah. Harge is aware of this, and they were DEFINITELY a romantic couple in the past, which means...yeah, Carol’s a straight-up lesbian, it would seem. Harge says it “shouldn’t be like this,” and it’s not clear whether that refers to Carol’s attraction to women, or the divorce in general. It is the 1950′s, after all.

OH WAIT. Forgot to mention that, didn’t I? This film takes place in the 1950s, I think? Hasn’t been made super clear as of yet, but the aesthetic is certainly the 1950s, without much doubt. The next day, Carol goes to pick Therese up, and meets Richard. Richard tells Therese he loves her as they depart. Therese doesn’t return the sentiment. FUCKIN’ OOF.

As the two drive through Lincoln Tunnel together, their dialogue is quieted, and we get some interesting close-up shots of their eyes, lips, faces. And it’s definitely meant to suggest something more physical, something without words. In other words...Harold’s wife is starting to get the idea. Harold’s not quite there yet, though.

Carol and Therese go to Carol’s home in New Jersey, where she meets her and 4-year old Harge’s daughter, Rindy, who Carol obviously loves VERY much. That night, Therese plays the piano, and also shares her passion for photography with Carol. Carol shows interest in her hobby, when Harge suddenly shows up to take Lindy unexpectedly for Christmas with his family, away from her.

The argument that this results in quickly envelops Therese, as Harge confronts Carol about her presence there. The ending result, though, is that Carol is forced to let Rindy leave early with Harge. And yeah, it’s sad for her. Harge, on the other hand, is being an absolute dick. The two have a verbal and PHYSICAL argument outside, which Therese partially overhears.

As an apology for bringing Therese into this marital struggle, Carol gives her a ride to the train station, so she can make her way home that night. On the train, Therese cries. Is this because of Harge, because of Carol, because of a struggle with her own feelings? I’m honestly not sure. And it’s a good question.

Carol seems to believe that it’s because of her, though, as she turned her away somewhat abruptly. However, she quickly tries to make up for it by calling and apologizing. Therese says that she has questions for her, and Carol is more than willing to answer them. The next day, Carol goes down to her divorce attorney’s office, only to discover that Harge is trying to take away ALL of Carol’s custody.

And the reason for it? You guessed it! Carol’s a lesbian! Sooooooo, FUCK HARGE!!! With this otion, Carol won’t be able to see Rindy for several months, which hurts her greatly. Again, fuck Harge, he’s a dick who’s taking away Carol’s joy and time with her daughter solely because Carol isn’t attracted to him. GODDAMN, that absolutely sucks.

Meanwhile, Therese’s struggling with her own feelings, some of which may be for Carol, and actually STRIGHT-UP asks Richard his opinions on the origins of homosexuality. He believes that it can’t just happen like heterosexual love, which...I mean, 1950s, what can I tell ya, it wasn’t great. He point-blank asks her if she’s in love with a girl, and she says no, and leaves him in the street in a huff. And real talk, I feel bad...for Richard. Therese, too, but dude is genuinely in head-over-heels with Therese, and is just NOT getting the hint.

Carol and Abby go to have lunch, where Carol breaks the news. They share tenderness, as they have in the past, and Abby’s pretty clearly out of the closet, as much as one can be in the 1950s. Also, quick aside to note that Sarah Paulson rules...and moving on.

Carol then visits Therese, and gives her new camera equipment as a kind gesture. Carol shares with her the news of the struggle with her husband, and says that she’s going on a trip, to get away for a while. She invites Therese to come with her, quite spontaneously, and Therese equally spontaneously says yes! Fuckin OOOOOOOF to Richard, goddamn.

Also, exactly the halfway point! See you in Part 2!

#carol #carol 2015 #todd haynes #cate blanchett #carol aird #rooney mara #therese belivet #sarah paulson #jake lacy #romance february #user365 #365 movie challenge #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year #movie challenge #romance movie #they're lesbians harold #harold they're lesbians #carol-cigarettes-furcoats #usercori #usermadeleine

[struwwelzeter]

Ok, here it is. This is one of my all time favorite interviews. It doesn’t really contain anything new, and I am still convinced it has been translated before, but that is beside the point. He is so chatty, and I get the impression he was quite at ease with the interviewer, and he’s just and adorable dork. I gave up on trying to capture his “voice” pretty fast because it’s impossible. Maybe it’s because I know how he sounds when he speaks english, but he’s ... a bit of a hazard, in that he sounds dumb one minute and sophisticated the next, and some of the things he says are actually not translateable, so I just concentrated on trying to get what he says across and gave up on the how.

Interview with Richard Kruspe of Emigrate and Rammstein

by Marcus Schleutermann of Rock Hard Magazine, August 22, 2008

—-

Richard, where and in what kind of circumstances did you grow up?

Until I was seven I lived in a small village called Weisen. That was a beautiful childhood with alot of nature, cats and dogs and a big family with two siblings. Then the big break came unfortunately, with the divorce of my parents. My father was gone from one day to the next, and we moved in with my stepfather in Schwerin. We didn’t ge on at all. The situation between me and him escalated quite a bit and I often ran away from home quite often. Sometimes I slept on park benches or in a friend’s basement and was looked for by the police. When there was the chance to start an apprenticeship somewehre else I jumped on it right away and went to Hagenau. Since there was nothing there other than a big army base, I did nothing but spend two and a half years worth of sparetime playing guitar. Looking back, I have to say that my stepfather at least taught me basic discipline. I profit from that by now, because as a musician there is no outside obligation to sit down and compose every day.

Where would you most like to live?

At the moment, I live both in Berlin and in New York. I like that duality. New York has a unique energy that drives me. I never really warmed up to Berlin on the other hand. When I first came here, the negative attitude of the people here totally spooked me. It’s always a no at first. Apart from that it’s pretty cold here. But by now quite a few things have changed for the better, especially this refreshing multiculti-thing, which of course doesn't only work between germans and turks, but between all sorts of nationalities. I would most like to live in Cape Town. You have the mountains on one side and two oceans on the other. The people are open and friendly and there is a very beautiful light that is good for my mind. (I feel obligated to say that he uses the word «Gemüt» which could also mean mood or soul and kind of means all of those 3 things at once.) I can imagine that as a retirement retreat.

Were you more of nerd or a bruiser in school?

I think that goes without saying - quite a bit of a bruiser.

So you did end up in brawls now and then.

Certainly. At the age of 10 to 14 I got into situations all the time where I - lets say - could let loose physically. But when I started wrestling I learned how to chanel my aggressions. I trained 5 times a weekand had competitions on the weekends. Unfortunately I was way too offensive most of the time and had no patience while fighting. I wanted victory right away, like tyson.

Are your parents proud and of you?

I think my biological father is very proud of me. My mother always wanted something else for me, but by now my muscian’s life is okay for her. At the end of the day it doesn't matter what you do, as long as you are successful. Especially for the post-war generation of my parents materialistic value is still held above evrything.

So what does money mean to you?

Essentially, only the freedom to be able to do what I like to do. Money means independency to me most of all. The problem with that is of course that you get used to a certain level of luxury and lifestyle. When I earned the first bit of money with Rammstein I was in seventh heaven and thought I would never need more. With my two apartments in London and Berlin and the constant travelling I need a bit more nowadays.

How do you define success?

Success is relative. With Emigrate I got great reviews, sold a good number of albums worldwide and got releases in America and Australia. Therefore, I could assess my solo project as a success, but in comparison with Rammstein, who sell millions, Emigrate are small fry.

What was the most miserable job you ever had?

The worst job was window cleaner, because I suffer from vertigo a bit [laughs]. Initially I was a truckdriver, but I lost my license after an accident. After that the company deemed I was supposed to become a window cleaner and climb up the Schwerin television tower. No way! I just put up the ladder for them and told them: See you later! (He actually uses english for the see you later. More impactful, you see.) To get by, I made shoes myself and sold them. Espardrilles and the likes. That is funny, because I am actually not talented in crafts at all. But I am streetwise and inventive when it comes to survival. I always had to improvise to get by because I couldn't handle authority at all. As a teenager I apprenticed to be a cook/chef (Same word in german. Probably more a cook than a chef to be honest here.) That's a tough job going off the tough hours alone. Apart from that it gets quite hot by the stove after a while.

That is not that different with Rammstein’s pyro show.

Quite true, hahaha! I believe cooking and making music has so much in common anyway. I have always cooked without a recipe. I just take what is there and conjure up something delicious. Some things maybe don't fit that well in the beginning, but you learn that quite quickly and then you develop an intuitive sense. That is the same with composing.

What would have become of you, if you hadn’t become a musician?

Hm, good question. I would like to produce a band some time - so kinda switch to the other side. Other than that I love to write and could imagine screenwriting would be a suitable job for me.

Speaking of Hollywood, how about being before the camera? Are there characters you would have loved or love to play?

Two characters I find brilliant: Taxi Driver and Leon the Professional. And those gangster flicks are cool. Goodfellas and Reservoir Dogs for exemple.

So more the underdogs and the villains - not the heroes.

Yes, they just have more potential. After I shot some erotic scenes for a video the other day I could also imagine doing an entire film in that direction. I was quite nervous in the beginning, but the longer we were shooting the more fun I had. Erotic, mind you, not pornographic.

So, you’d undress for Playgirl?

Not anymore [laughs]. Although probably not before either. I do have a pretty easy going relationship with my body and run around naked in my apartment alot, but then I am not that exhibitionistic that I'd strip for some glossy magazine.

So you’re a at-home nudist.

Yeah, that's an east thing, I think. When I opened my apartment door in New York naked once when the door rang while I was in bed with my then wife, she was completely bewildered. The shameless ossis (east germans) and the prudish americans - that was a meeting of the worlds. [laughs]

Are you vain?

Unfortunately, yes. I'd like to be more above that because vanity is a negative quality that has something to do with insecurity and ego. I work on myself and as I got older I luckily developed a more casual attitude. At some point you start to accept the degredation of the body.

Theoretically you could counteract that with plastic surgery. How about an appointment with Nip/Tuck, hm?

That's not something for me, but I don't have anything against plastic surgery. If people are unhappy with their body and gain new self esteem and sense of life through an operation, they should go through with it. I do see a problem in the danger of it getting exorbitant and to develop some kind of addiction like with tattoos that goes far beyond the reasonable. The body won't go along with everythig after all, and such things as calf implants are pretty crazy.

Speaking of crazy, what’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?

That must have been asking a woman to marry me two days after meeting her. She said yes, and the rest is history. (They are divorced at this point, as the article points out here - in brackets too.)

Cue: Woman: What type do you prefer?

Like almost everyone I do have some sort of type. You need a relationship that mirrors yourself and to develop. So in that sense you're looking for a partner that drives you forward in certain aspects. To have a good relationship you need to keep a balance of passion and friendship - if it's just one it will overturn at some point.

What do you think of groupies?

They just belong to it all. This symbiosis of star and groupie is like theater. The relationship between both has of course nothing to do with reality, and is just an illusion, but you shouldn't destroy that. I'm personally not really tempted by groupies because I like it when I have to fight for a woman. But I like the glamour their presence emenates.

Do you believe in god or reincarnation? Are you spiritaully inclined?

More and more. I don't believe in god in a church sense, but I'm a spiritual guy and believe in a form of justice; that the things we do come back to us in some way eventually. Karma, so to speak. I also have the slightly feminine habit of using astrology to understand people. I use it as a tool to decipher characters. Once you know how someone's house is build, it's easier to place their actions. To be clear: I don't mean horoscopes or such nonsense. There's alot of maths in astrology and you can't compare that with the usual star-sign pulp in TV programmes.

Could you live without television?

Nah. I have a huge beamer in my New York apartment's bedroom. I love lying in bed, smoking and watching good movies more than anything. That is the only thing where I can really switch of other than sex. Lots of both, please. [laughs]

Reading isn't your thing?

I used to read alot, but now I'm unfortunately too lazy for it most of the time. Even on the plane you get a monitor and a huge selection of movies since a while now. But I still have a good reading recommendation: The New York trilogy by Paul Auster.

What's the most important invention for human kind?

Each century has it's own big invention and right now that is clearly the internet. Before that it was electricity, which made everything else like the light bulb and the elctric guitar even possible.

To which era would you most like to travel if there was a time machine?

I guess the sword and blade time as I always call it. Knights templar, 11th century. I can answer that this well, because I like to watch even stupid movies when they deal with that period. I just have a huge affinity to it somehow and would love to find out how things were going back then.

Do you have a phobia?

Other than the aforementioned fear of heights I have a phobia of snakes.

When did you cry the last time?

Now you got me. That is a huge problem of mine because I just can't cry. I think that is a pity myself, because crying is an outlet with which you let grief go. Maybe that's why my music is so important to me, it's like my tear duct and helps me to live out my feelings.

——————-

- sorry for any spelling mistakes but I’m dyslexci and I can’t be bothered.

#i love this dork very much ok #what he says about gropies is 100% what this singer i used to know also said and it’s true and I believe it 100% #he is so predictable #paul auster of course what else #and then he wants to play wild west with the knights templar #i love him #struwwel translates #richard zk #richard z kruspe #rzk #rammstein

[lady-plantagenet]

Unsolicited Book Reviews (n5): Wife to theKingmaker

Rating:

⭐️⭐️⭐️

Even before I had an account I had a tendency to go to tumblr to see people’s opinions before buying a histfic novel. Certain books are either severely underrepresented where I feel like there needs to be something on them, whereas others that are talked about enough - something more can still be said. So for my quarantine fun, I had decided to start a series where I review every medieval historical fiction novel I read. Hopefully, it will either start interesting discussions or at least be some help for those browsing its tag when considering purchasing it.

TL;DR: Ok swear to god this book was written by two different people. The ending was actually heart-wrenching, but so much had annoyed me throughout that I swore to myself to never again touch this genre for my own health. Twas an odd tale, and tbh the fact that it was odd probably elevated it from the 2 stars (or hell maybe even 1 if it was going to get any more richardian) to 3. Honestly, quite glad I read it in the end. Not the most historically informative, but some of the character arcs were actually quite neat (however extremely farfetched). Spoiler Warning: I’m going to divulge a lot on here because I know no one who follows me is going to read this book.

Plot: Ok, the plot... It was only after I placed my order that I realised this is the Sandra Heath Wilson of ‘Cicely’s King’ fame. I cringed and didn’t know what to do. For all you innocents out there... her Cicely series is a saga wherein Cecily of York pretty much bangs everyone who is male and from the house of york (minus her father and uncle George) and Even Henry VII(!!). She then has this kid by Richard III, calls him Leo and the rest is history(this is what I gleaned from goodreads). Nevertheless it had already shipped and honestly I had it coming; the synopsis does say she has an affair with her brother-in-law John Marquis of Montagu. Whatever, I couldn’t resist buying the only novel about Anne Beauchamp, and since it was published in the 70s/80s I knew it would at least be flamboyant and go all out. It delivered enough for it to have been worth reading.

So the novel follows Anne Beauchamp!(Nan) from when she is a 13 year old girl to 1478 when she finally leaves Beaulieu to go live at Middleham with her (as you guessed it- favourite) daughter Anne and her oh so belovéd son-in-law Richard Duke of Gloucester - You see? Since now finally the Great Other (Mr George) is finally vanquished England has its peace. Of course this is not true, Nan historically left the abbey in 1473 for Middleham and while I wanted a possible explanation from the author (who I would assume is better researched than I) for whether she went to Middleham out of her own volition or simply because the King trusted Gloucester better than Clarence... alas I got none. It was all pinned on the fact that the evil George (who as per usual alternates between omnipotent mastermind to absolute drunken himbo at the turn of a page) would not have her free for as long as she lived (for whatever reason). I really think the real historical explanation was because Edward trusted Gloucester - because after all Warwick Castle was Nan’s patrimony not Middleham. I doubt Nan had a choice in the matter but, the point is, Isabel was alive in 1473 and since there’s zero historical record or suggestion that Nan and Anne had ever seen her again, it would have been nice to have had a depiction of the conflicted feelings or a final meeting written for the three women. I’ll let it slide I guess, after all, one needs to cut some slack when it comes to books written pre-internet age by non-historians. And unlike Sunne in Splendour, this book does not purport to be completely accurate or a representation of the truth.

Christ some sub-plots were truly unexpected. One that made me groan at first was the whole arc between Nan and her niece Eleanor Butler. In this book she’s her ward (not historically true) and little Eleanor is all sweet and innocent and virtuous and, hell, at one point we get more Nan-Eleanor interaction than even between Nan - her own daughters (particularly Isabel who would have been the right age and a better substitute for Eleanor in their dialogue, but alas, who cares about Isabel right?). Eleanor even is the one to accidentally discover that Margaret of Anjou slept with Edmund Beaufort, siring Edward of Lancaster.

Ok. You’re probably thinking, god how trite eugh the Richardians are at it again, right? Yeah ok the Richardians are at it again, but it turns into something really neat at the end. Essentially, as I said, Nan has an affair with John Neville Marquis of Montagu (long story that I will expand on in characterisation) and she and him come upon Edward and Eleanor (overhearing them nothing more). So Edward and Nan then have this mutually assured destruction between them, because Edward divulges that he saw Nan and John years later when Nan confronts him (by this time he is married to Elizabeth Woodville) that she knows about the pre-contract with the intention of telling him off. He tells her that if she dares tell Warwick about the pre-contract he will tell Warwick about John, so she then agrees (also because she promised her niece that she would keep it quiet for the safety of her son by Edward). Years later when they meet again, Edward realised how much is at stake for Nan (especially since it turned out she loved Warwick all along and Edward figured that out), and so, during the period of John’s back-and-forth loyalties (we know he was disgruntled by the loss of the Northumberland Earldom)... Edward returns and tells Nan that if Montagu abandons him he will out her to Richard and cause a massive division between the brothers (militaristically speaking as well) and he knows he can do that because he figures out Nan will not out him because she blubbs about her promise to her niece. This madness then becomes bittersweet when (as history would have it) Montagu does end up fighting for Warwick, nevertheless, Nan is releaved during the whole time because there’s nothing in Warwick’s letters that give any indication that Edward ended up exposing her. Warwick dies in the battlefield, Nan is deeply aggrieved but happy he never found out at least. But then... years later when Edward comes to Beaulieu (1478 as this story would have it) to inform Nan that she may depart for Middleham, he tells her that he in fact did expose her to Warwick... but that Warwick didn’t believe him and laughed in his face because he thought there was no way she could be unfaithful because he knew she loved him. This sounds silly but it got to me a bit when I read it. Of course, we also have Edward saying he regretted his handling of the pre-contract affair because apparently Elizabeth Woodville had since lost interest in him and he’s hurt by how she shows no reaction to him having mistresses and he’s kinda given up, whereas Eleanor would have been more of a lapdog. This was essentially the centrepiece of the plot.

Look, I don’t really read these types of novels as a habit so I don’t know if bizarre plot lines like this are commonplace. Not going to lie though, it threw me and it was pleasantly enjoyable. This is basically what is to be said about the plot... the rest goes into characterisation. Nevertheless, this novel too often fell into the exposition trap (like telling us what is happening politically instead of showing us). While I appreciated the refresher of what happened 1445-1461 and I understand that the target audience of this book aren’t Wars of the Roses experts, I’ve seen it done more smoothly in many other more literary novels (eg Hawley Jarman’s or Lytton-Bulwer’s Last of the Barons). I’ve often said Sunne in Splendour was terribly dry and exposition-heavy, but at least it had historical detail so I could sometimes switch off and treat it as a non-fiction account for battles and character locations. But with this one I a) don’t have faith that the author paid attention to detail; see what I said earlier about the years 1473-1478, so I won’t take this as information and b) know that if she had done this with the years I know more about: 1461-1478, I would have gotten annoyed because of my familiarity with those decades.

Characterisation: Well we have lovelorn saintly Dickon here - always a pet peeve of mine. Look, I don’t have strong opinions about the man but it just innures me how whenever Richardianism rears it’s ugly head the plot suffers massively and it’s always favourite figures of mine that suffer the most. George Duke of Clarence... oh god, what can I say? Wife-beater, alcoholic, is disgusted by his wife when she is ill (you know, unlike the historical Clarence who had resided in the Abbot’s home near the infirmiary for the last months of his wife’s lying-in and after to be close to her and thereafter stuck with her until she passed away and two months after that as well), is stupid yet somehow still devious, is the indirect cause of her death... the list goes on. Welp, at least this Clarence unlike the Sunne in Splendour one has an elegant bearing, sense of fashion and is a great dancer. The Sunne one had NOTHING. It’s also odd that they make his attitude towards Isabel undergo a complete 180 as soon as he realises this marriage will no longer make him king. This makes no sense as the book has them want to marry for love, like YEARS before 1469, so this sudden attitude change makes no sense. Authors really need to be reminded that crown or no crown that marriage would still have made him the greatest magnate in England. There was also a ridiculous handling on the circumstance of his death, and this was the most factually wrong part of the book. Between Ankarette being aged down by 4 decades and the whole shmaz with Stillington, I don’t know where to begin. I bet most of you can guess how it was handled. Isabel is as per usual constantly depressed and without a personality because, well, we can’t have her compared to our shining heroine Anne Neville. 3x more beautiful, 5x more vivacious and 20x more significant than her doormat of a sister who complains all day- that is when she isn’t crying. Gahhh. Of course Anne Neville also cries but it’s for her beloved Dickon who she pines for constantly. Look, I have no qualms with romanticising this pairing, but authors need to keep in mind that Anne was like 13 at most when she became estranged from Gloucester. You. Need. To. Stop. Writing. Her. Like. A. Woman. . I don’t care what anyone says, no matter the time period, you can’t make me visualise a 13 year old that could feel romantic love of that deep a devotion and maturity and not send me laughing across the floor. But want to write a strong childish infatuation coming from a place of deep friendship? Fine by me.

Ok, onto more positive characterisation points: I liked Nan, quite a lot actually (I mean blatant daughter favouritism aside). A lot of authors attempt to write the proud noblewoman and great lady character but few pull it off. This is always how I have seen the real Anne Beauchamp and I’m glad to see it here. For a novel so insensitive towards certain figures, the author wrote Nan with great empathy. She was very intelligent but not in that artificial girlboss way, she loved her daughter(s) but in that medieval mother type of way (so no baby brain here), she may have not gotten along splendidly with all the women around her but there was none of that demeaning cattiness. About that, I want to say I was shocked by what a turn her relationship with Margaret of Anjou took. Since the whole Somerset-bastard child plotline was a thing... Nan was initially revolted and lost all her respect for Lancaster, but when the two women find themselves joined by fate they gain this strange mutual respect for one another. They butt heads a bit initially but Margaret of Anjou rises above it for her son’s sake and eventually strikes up an agreement with Nan on when they are to set sail. Margaret first won’t listen to Nan because she thinks she’s a fool but when she eventually slips by to tell Nan that she had thought about her plan and that maybe she’s right, she doesn’t apologise and Nan doesn’t need her to and it’s this weird telepathic understanding from then on and I certainly did not expect to see something like this in this novel. After the landing in England and news of Warwick’s death reaches the party, Margaret doesn’t gloat but diplomatically relays the news and when Nan says she wants to take sanctuary because she lost all heart and can’t fight on, Edward of Lancaster gently says something like: well if you come with us, you’ll at least get your revenge and that’s at least something (paraphrase). You could just tell this was Edward’s way of offering condolences, the type of way a child like him raised through war and promises of vengeance only could, and it was oddly powerful. Shame it couldn’t have happened as Nan and Margaret and Isabel all travelled at seperate times. The whole theme around Nan was that she wasn’t very partisan but only followed her husband as a magnate and then as a man, which I believe and it was great to see Team Lancaster understood Warwick was a seperate entity from York, and for all intents and purposes they were all in this together. Cool-headedness is much needed in this genre I realise, god how low flies the bar ~

Now onto the characterisation most people are wondering about. What of Warwick? He was the saving grace of the novel. He has the common touch yet he is sophisticated, he is idealistic yet he is shrewd, he is impassioned yet collected, he is dramatic yet subtle, he is ... I can go on and on. What is all the affair plot point about then? It doesn’t diminish the bond between the two main characters; to tell you quite truthfully the relationship the author wrote was bizarre yet still really touching. They used to hate eachother because Nan thought herself above him (after all the Warwick earldom was far more valuable than the Salisbury one- remember it was briefly a dukedom at one point), but then she sees what he made of himself and becomes proud of him and falls in love with him. However, he starts to get carried away with his ambitions, gets all-consumed by the legend of Warwick that he had cultivated and essentially becomes impersonal without wanting to (and realising). Nan feels she has lost him to the people of England (which are apparently all hypnotised by his presence, which ok is a fact grounded in history) and because of her wounded pride she starts seeking comfort in his brother (although, it makes little sense how this would work as I would gather he would also be away, especially at the Scottish boarders). When he refuses to support Warwick over Edward later on, she loses all feelings for Montagu and thinks him a coward, and when Warwick apologises for being amiss she realises that this whole time it was him she loved all along and is racked with guilt. I found this exploration of what it is like being wed to a man of such public standing quite interesting, the idea of losing him not to another woman or such but to his cause (which in this book is a mixture of belief in the french alliance, the common weal and subconsciously his own wounded pride brought on by an extreme adherence to inflexible chivalric values on his part and Edward IV’s actions), I confess, is not something I saw portrayed in this particular manner anywhere else. I mean it’s not like I’ve been searching for this particular motif, but this was a refreshing depiction of a medieval couple and it was a poignantly written relationship which the author had me invested in. The relationship was heartfelt because it was very distinct, Nan and Warwick weren’t just some stand-ins for a cash-grab but some consideration was paid to the real historical figures. The John plotline, sure I would in principle protest against something like this but it seems to have had two plot purposes: To illustrate the strain caused by the aforementioned issue and to kick off the whole Edward-Eleanor Butler-Montagu-Nan arc, which bizarre and unbelievable as it was, kept me on my toes. I’ll let it slide. Also, Edward IV was portrayed as quite a chilling villain in this, beholden of this weird mix of indifference, charm and wickedness.

Prose: This is what made me briefly wonder if this book was written by two different people. It failed to engage me in the first half, the descriptions were trite (except for the natural scenery bits), there was very little variety in sentence structures which gave it the stilted heaviness that thus afflicted The Sunne in Splendour (and most modern literature). There was a lot of redundancies eg the type of stuff like ‘whispered quietly’ or ‘yelled loudly’ and the author’s misunderstanding of certain period fashions drew me out eg references to bodices (not a thing then), calling the henin veil a silk scarf etc. She didn’t pull a Penman: exposit emotions to us, making me feel like I walked into a therapy session, but it was often heavy-handed. It first felt very much like an uninspired debut novel. A bit try-hard and I was wondering if this was the way of the bodice ripper... I wouldn’t know, I never read one before (though I’m unsure if this qualifies as it’s really not graphic and the focus is really not on sex nor is there much of it).

However, out of nowhere, the prose suddenly changed a little before half of the way in; colours, emotions, thoughts and the like started to blend masterfully. The sentence structures started varying to convey the way Nan was feeling. It became very show don’t tell, and it drew me in emotionally a bit (I must confess). Of course, that’s also around the point the plot had sort of started redeeming itself. Nan’s grief at her husband’s passing was particularly well conveyed - how she became a husk of her former self... I could read fifty pages of that. Her realisation that it had been him all along was also well written, and you could feel all the urgency and regret she felt at all the time she had wasted disregarding him as the plot grew nearer to Barnet. The mutual longing was also subtle yet strong, and it really was down to the effective use of sentence structure and waylaying of inspired thematic details. The mingling of past memories with present day in her later years was also very well done and with flow, and the adjectives etc used were no longer becoming distracting as before. My favourite part by far was the very last scene when she rides ahead of her escort to Middleham and she imagines a horse riding beside her caparisoned with the Neville standard; you can really feel how this is the first time that she had felt joy in years and she lets the ghost follow her.

... In Conclusion, this novel gave me very mixed feelings. I don’t know if I would have enjoyed it as much as I did had it not been for the fact that I entered it with a massive pre-formed love for the figures. It’s a bit like my experience with ‘Death Be Pardoner to Me’ (review #2 on this tag), was the book actually good or do I just have an affinity for the protagonist (Clarence in that case)? As such, I don’t think I would reccomend it. Indeed I wrote this spoilerish review because I was sure no one would fly off to Amazon after seeing this post. I can’t say if it’s above commercial historical romance in standard as this is the first time I’ve ever read a book from this genre. I think I’ll take a loongg break from historical fiction (after I finish with Jarman) because the Clarence portrayal was a bit of a nail in the coffin for me and I don’t want to continue upsetting myself for no reason. As I have now truly lost hope in reading a balanced depiction of him and if the literature isn’t absolutely expemplary why bother? Nevertheless, Warwick’s portrayal was a saving grace and made it impossible for me to give it two stars - it wasn’t perfect but still the best I’ve read (minus Last of the Barons Ofc). This is also a bit sad when you think about it, Warwick is also due some fictional justice. Even scholarly if you ask me.

The experience was educational as I learned a valuable lesson in what to avoid and include in my writing, what pitfalls/clichés not to fall into etc. I think I can draw another valuable lesson from this: Dear Histfic authors, if you happen to not be historians, heavily-researched in this time period, objective or literarily talented etc don’t take yourself seriously by publishing some tome of a work but just go nuts like this novel. At least this way you’re not sharing misinformation, inducing people into error and your work still gets to be engaging as opposed to a repetition of the previous amateur historical novelist. Yeah. For all the Sunne in Splendour’s superior quality, I must say I prefer this one better.

Tagging @pythionice who I have recently discovered has also read this book! Welcome fellow fan of Warwick <3

#lady-plantagenet’s book reviews #I’m actually embarasses by how long this is #I got into quite the rambling mood oh gosh #I confuse myself #I hope I have amused some of you with this retelling at least it is outrageous lmao #wife to the kingmaker #sandra wilson #george of clarence #isabel neville #anne beauchamp #richard neville earl of warwick #warwick the kingmaker #richard neville #george plantagenet #anne neville #I’ll add read more function tommorow I’m too tired now #sandra heath wilson

[plush-anon]

You worked at joanns? 😍 dream job

In all fairness, a large part (and I do mean a LARGE part) of why I enjoyed working at Joanns were the managers.

The store manager was a guy named Richard, one of maybe two or three men who worked there total, and this man was practically a saint as far as retail goes.

This was a man who would, with no hesitation, get on the floor to help customers, or hop on the registers to check customers' purchases out, or pop on to the cutting counter to cut fabric. He remembered the names of regulars, would chat and smile while getting shit done, and was the type of guy to speak slowly and softly when we had shitstains explode at us measly peons for not giving them the full cost of an item back in a return (ex $200) when they used a coupon to purchase an item to begin with and only paid a portion of the cost (ex. $150). No joke, this actually happened to me on Black Friday with a man who stood at about 6 foot with a crewcut and a snarl (the military Karen, if you would)

Richard, of course, stood at about 6 foot 5 inches, and reminded me of a ginger grizzly bear in some ways. Very few customers continued to be assholes when they asked to speak to the manager and Richard came over, smiling wide. He encouraged us to chat with the customers while we worked the cutting counter - it was a good way to learn about what they were making, encouraged general conversation and lent itself to a better environment for everyone, worker and customer alike, so we weren't just awkwardly standing in silence the whole time.

The assistant store manager (aka his second in command - we had two other assistant managers, but she wielded more power than both of them) was Farrah, and she was basically Cool Wine Aunt, but with weed. She was open about smoking it (but not in a pressure-the-underlings kind of way, but more of a 'yeah, it calms me down' kind of way) but never on the clock, and was just really chill in general. She was also a 'jump on the registers' type of manager, and on occasion would take the closing staff out to get a drink from the texmex place next to us in the shopping center, and cover one for each of us - particularly during the Holiday Clusterfuck of October, November, and December (their Frozen Kahlua Mudlslide was my alcoholic drink of choice - they also had these spicy chicken strips that were amazing with it, but I digress).

Both of them were amazing people who would support and back us up without hesitation (if they weren't dealing with corporate or stock trucks coming in), and both routinely worked 15 to 20 hours UNPAID overtime during the Holiday Clusterfuck so that we the underlings could get more hours without Corporate jumping up our ass about going over budget.

They were also refreshingly upfront in our monthly meetings about profits and meeting them, as well as why company policy was the way it was, and how to work within the boundaries so we got more hours. One of my favorite moments was when they said the fabric sales essentially covered their own cost (production and delivery); the rest of the cheap crap in the store was what covered our paycheck and electricity, so hawk it as much as you can if you want extra in the bank (paraphrasing here, but that's not that far off what they actually said tbh).

With some Karen-y exceptions, the customers were honestly pretty chill. There were two women from a nearby church who bought well over 200 yards of cut fleece to make no-sew fleece blankets for children and the poor in December (it took forever to do, but they were so cheerful about it and told some funny anecdotes in between, kept the counter clear as soon as they were cut, etc. Took them three carts to haul everything to the register XD).

There was the slew of quilters making everything from baby blankets to anniversary gifts to quilts for their grandkids attending the local university that they could wear to football games in the colder weather, while still showing team pride. They always bought quarters and eighths and the end of the bolt for half price, digging thru our remnants bin for something they might have missed they could get for half price. They always talked about what they were working on, and spoke in great detail on their kids or cousins or niblings or grandkids. I saw so many pictures on phones, in wallets, and they loved them to absolute pieces.

There were cosplayers making their first costume to comicon, halloween goers trying their hand at making their own outfits, and a few furries making custom suits for order or just updating their own personal outfit. There were the usual school and church Christmas plays that needed costumes, and folks making custom table runners and place settings for family holiday meals.

One notable young man bought out 30+ yards of our 65" inch wide bolt felt for JEWELRY projects he was making as a part of his business and as a part of his art program (you can major in art with a concentration in jewelry making, and he was using it for that). He didn't leave a card, but the pictures he showed us were STUNNING.

We had a few elderly mothers come in with their daughters, to pick out fabrics so they could make their own wedding dresses, or quinceanera outfits, or veils; they showed us the patterns they had, or the pictures they were basing the designs off of, and all of them were STUNNING. (One came back in with the finished dress in the bag, this intricately beaded poofy dress that had to have taken days, hot pink and shiny).

We had local restaurant owners pop in for re-upholstery projects and curtains and vinyl; same with teachers and deck dads and furniture restoration workers that would gush about the design, what they had planned. Some would bicker with their spouses on the pattern, but it felt good-natured on the whole.

We had some elderly men come in to peer over our sewing machines - "How much it run for? My wife's birthday is coming up and her old machine's about done, and I want to surprise her. She had a Singer, but she hates the electronic screens on some of these newer ones, they hurt her eyes." - and moms coming in to sew some custom bed sheets for their kids - "My son really likes the new My Little Pony show, but he's a little shy about it. Do you think the blue's okay? Only he like yellow more, but they don't have any back there and he doesn't MIND blue really but - Actually scratch that, how wide is the fabric? My pattern says it needs to be at LEAST 22 inches wide, does it say on the box?" - and people coming up with some WILD craft ideas that were always a delight to hear them gush about - "So this MAY seem crazy, but I can turn these plastic pumpkin trick-or-treat pails into SNOWMEN heads with felt like this. We fill them with treats for the kids since we don't have a fireplace and they like it fine, but someone said I should sell these on Etsy and people really like them! But I've run out of pumpkins, and you have NO idea how happy I am that you guys still have some left."

The group we had to work with was also pretty crafty; a few were chronic call-outs, some a bit lazy, some perpetually done-with-this-nonsense, but we were mostly on the same page on shift, and all of us were crafty as heck. The employee discount was a blessing AND a curse, lemme tell you.

Stock was the best part, for me. Hours before the store opened at 9 AM, we would rip open the boxes and stuff everything onto the shelves, organizing anything the closing shift missed the night before along the way, updating new stickers or shuffling pegs over for new product arrangement, etc. We could listen to music or podcasts as we worked, and I ended up impressing some of them bc of how fast I tore through everything some mornings (the music definitely helped out there).

I was actually about to be promoted to assistant manager after 6 months, but then I got my job with the university, and they had federal health benefits AND dental, so... yeah, no contest there. Richard actually laughed when I told him I'd been hired at the university and was giving my two week notice, since it meant he didn't have to do the slew of paperwork that accompanied new assistant manager hires. He congratulated me on the job, especially the health benefits - he said that was a perk worth leaving any job here for. I nearly cried with relief that he wasn't mad.

He and Farrah chipped in and got me a small music box that plays Man of La Mancha's Dream the Impossible Dream on my last day. It still sits on my desk at work.

It was honestly my favorite retail job out of the bunch I've suffered through. Surprising at first, since I initially received a rejection email bare HOURS after my interview with Farrah, but about a month later (as I trawled endlessly through interview after interview, desperate for anything those first few months ), I got a call back from them asking if I was still interested (which I was, bc hey a job!). They remembered me specifically bc I had missed my bus to the interview, called ahead to let them know I would be late, then walked the whole way there in the rain to get there. (It was only about a mile and a half away, so not a terrible journey, but flooding is an issue in our flat-ass city; I looked like a drenched afghan hound holding a useless umbrella, so enjoy that imagery).

They were particularly impressed by the calling-ahead part.

Unfortunately, both of them ended up moving on to different paths over the year after I left - apparently they had been friends with benefits (? I say hesitantly, since I ran into one of my coworkers at an art show later on and she spilled the beans there - she was a bit flighty in nature though, and got caught up in gossip a LOT, so who knows. Lovely brocade custom projects though), and his ex girlfriend had called corporate on them and got both fired.

I think Farrah came back some time later, but the damage was done after that - the new manager came in and operated SOLELY to corporate policy. A LOT went to pieces in terms of store cleanliness, order, and general camaraderie after that - the new fabric counter folks look and sound dead inside, and barely interact with customers (not even a 'whatcha making' in passing, which is kind of sad - the stories I got helped to pass the time, and kept me from using up all of my Set Conversation Phrases for customers that actually WOULD leave us standing in silence). Corporate also stopped some of the smaller store policies that made our job easier and gave the customers a little something extra (the 'end-of-the-bolt' discount - if, after the customer orders say, 2 yards of fabric on the bolt, and there's say, a half yard "remnant" left on the bolt, we can sell them the remnant for half-price. A LOT of quilters LOVED this, and we did too, since it saved us from filling out the remnant tag and printing a sticker later on).

Just goes to show how important good management is in a business; especially when it can kick a store previously part of the top 50 stores in the NATION (while being a medium store at that - smaller place, NOT Hobby Lobby size like the Large stores) to something much less pleasant. I could be rose-goggling the situation thought - retail is still retail, no matter how nice some aspects are - but it still sticks with me as to how good he experience was even taking into account that it WAS minimum wage retail.

Food for thought, lads, food for thought.

#plush gets personal #joanns #joann fabrics #employment #retail hell #or well #not so much hell for this one #retail... purgatory? yeah that'll work

[julies-butterflies]

Honestly, your writing reminds me a lot of the buffyverse. Just the perfect balance of humor and sadness and romance and heart that just feels like a vivid window into the world you've created.

God the Body...the best forty minutes of television I may never watch again. I've rewatched Willow and Tara's kiss (because I'll adore them forever), but just...the weight of it. It took me a full month to work up the nerve to watch the episode, to be ready to cry that much.

What you said about not wanting people to suffer, because of your work...It's never once felt like that for me. And I've cried a LOT while reading your work. I'll try to explain it the best I can

Grief can be so isolating, and disorienting. Your world goes topsey-turvey, supports you took for granted go flying into the abyss and suddenly it's a minefield of those glass shards. And no one's grief is identical. No two circumstances are the same. It's not possible for anyone else to know exactly how you feel, because no two hearts break alike.

Sometimes, it's because people just don't understand. Sometime's it's because they no longer want to. But some days, that feeling of aloneness can be crushing.

Then one night, I stumbled upon Let These Shadows Fall Away Like Dust. That one hit me way harder than I was ever expecting. The question of how to grieve the living, the dilemma on when forgiveness is deserved...Alex's anger, his devestation, the rawness of it all....That's my broken glass. Those are concepts I've been struggling for over a year. I'm still picking up pieces every day.

I sobbed, because it was such a relief. To see the feelings that had been scrambled up in my mind just reflected there, on my screen. The reminder I had desperately needed, that I was not alone. That even though my circumstances were different, I was not the only one trying to unravel those messy emotions.

Then again, I also read your deathfic for fun, so maybe I'm not the best judge of this. I tend to like angst. I tend to get a lot of "WHY WOULD YOU MAKE IT THAT SAD" in group chats :D

Please don't feel any pressure to respond to me quickly or anything. I never mind the wait. I'm so sorry for the rough times. Wishing that you and your family gets whatever you need to help ease your storm. Sending love and support as well.

(sorry for all the metaphors. I'm super sleepy and apparently, I resort to purple prose when tired lol)

I know exactly what you mean about Emily. I understand why people don't like her, but I just love to see her written as such a grey character. It's just so much more powerful when the love is so clearly there.

I mean, that's what a tragedy is, really. Love cut short. Grieving a future that could have been everything, if fate had not been cruel. I don't know if you know musical theater, but I like to think about the Barber and His Wife, from Sweeney Todd: the whole tragedy of that show, is that they were happy all together, and then permanently broken. How their paths keep crossing, but they never connect to heal. Never lost, but never found.

And that's the tragedy of Luke and Emily: too stubborn and too late. You find that grey area, the messiness so well, and just bring it all out so wonderfully. You do the same with Bobby/Trevor, ESPECIALLY in the horror and the wild. God, that absolutely devestated me. I'm not a big fan of horror in general, and I haven't explored the genre that much but...if all horror is like yours then DAMN, I might just have to become a fan.

This got super long (lol) so I'll wrap it up now but! THE SIC FIC QUEENS TOGETHER???? When I tell you I lost it.... all too well Bobby and what you've lost reggie in the same story are killing me. I am hooked and incredibly hyped. Loved both updates so far, and cannot wait to see where the story goes!

Oh yeah and I forget: I have to ask, do you have a fan cast of the one, the only, the incredible Keith Richards? (and that goblin is so cute!!! I really want to pet the blood thirsty monster. So badly)

Love, your totally-not-undead-pen-pal, :D

-Vampire Anon

Know musicals? Vampire Anon my beloved, I am a musical theatre bitch. Take a look at my high school graduation cap! (Anastasia is my favorite musical... something about the themes of home, love, and family, the idea of always finding a place in the world even after enduring incredible hardship, that anything is survivable with faith and love in your heart... I'm also a Romanov history bitch, and Christy Altomare is such an incredible talent and human being.) Literally, talk to me about musicals anytime!

And yeah, I definitely see your metaphor... the tragedy of The Barber and his Wife was how close they came to each other throughout the whole show, existing within reach the entire time, after being separated for so long. But it wasn't the same; it never could be. Time and trauma had changed them both into something unrecognizeable, and when they came face-to-face, they could only hurt each other. At a certain point, the ghosts of your past are meant to stay ghosts. Sure, you might want them back more than anything --- but what would it mean? What would you truly be getting back?

Luke's "back", of course, and he comes home to visit his parents multiple times... but they're not the same people he left. They're older, greyer, changed by grief... while he's just the same. A snapshot forever frozen in time, a memory crystalized in amber. You can't hold memories in your hands. You can't pull them close and refuse to let them go. Eventually, they'll slip away... and to Mitch and Emily, a memory is all their son is, now. That's what's so heartrending about the situation we see in the show, especially --- so much love still exists between all of them, but it has no place to go.

Okay, sorry, it's 3am here and I'm rambling too, haha --- mentioning musical theatre was a mistake.

I'm so glad my stories have been able to connect with you, especially 'shadows' --- that one resonated with a lot of people, more than I ever realized it would. It's not the most personal story to me... but definitely one that needed to be told, and the emotion in it... hits home for a lot of people. It means so much to me knowing that story, and Alex's internal struggle, has made people feel less alone.

I think I'm going to have a hard time looking back on that one, though. We were staying at my aunt's house for the weekend where I wrote most of it; I read a few excerpts to her, and she said she liked it. She was always interested in my writing... I kind of wish I'd gotten the chance to share more of it with her.

Like you said. Grief's a funny thing. Disorienting, relentless, and crushing.

Please just remember, though --- whatever you're dealing with, you're not alone. You don't have to cut yourself on those broken pieces... one day, you'll wake up, and realize you feel whole again. It will never feel the same, and the pain will always be there... but healing around it is what makes us stronger. You don't owe anyone your forgiveness; it's okay to grieve when you've lost something, regardless of whether death has taken them from you. Grief doesn't have to be earned, it simply has to be felt.

You'll be stronger for it, in the end. I'm sorry you've been hurting so much.

Anyways! Oh gosh! On to lighter, happier topics! Please tell me...

What are your favorite fics? (Like, my fics, obviously, which fics of mine do you just go gaga over? Please praise me or else my ego will shrivel like a worm on hot pavement.) No, okay, I'm kidding --- what are your top fics for this fandom? Like, what are the ones that really resonate with you, that you could read over and over? The JATP fandom has so many greats, but I'm always drawn back to Some Killer Queen You Are by pearlcaddy (buffyverse meets jatp!! iconic!!), Lantern's Light by thefairhero (literally the SOFTEST reggie), the sky's not empty tonight by firefall (just... devastating and beautiful in a dozen ways), and literally anything by foundfamilyvevo.

How long have you been in the JATP fandom? Who are your favorite characters? What's your favorite JATP song?

And finally, most importantly... what are your favorite musicals?

(also... since u asked... behold keith richards and tremble)

#vampire anon my beloved #also... vampire anon... you're a writer #i can tell!! i can read it in your words #youre so eloquent and put things so beautifully #do you write fic?? have you posted any for jatp??