#goliath ii

[adventurelandia]

Goliath II Little Golden Book by Bill Peet

#goliath II #little golden book #bill peet #art #illustration #vintage #disney #vintage disney

[terrible-twst-oc-ideas]

Raja from Goliath II (1960)

Not to be confused with the friendly tiger in Aladdin, this hungry hungry tiger really wants to eat the titular baby elephant-- and, ultimately, is unsuccessful.

#the date tag this time around is also technically a misnomer #he actually premiered in a Goofy cartoon 15 years earlier #but Goliath II is his first named appreance #twst oc prompts #twst #goliath II

[merry-melody]

#goliath ii #pretty red wing #disney #concept art #the disney that never was #ride of the valkyries #roland the xiiith #the emperor's new clothes #the abandoned

[elijones94]

🐘 “This is a story about an elephant. Oh, not an ordinary elephant, a very small elephant. His name was Goliath II and he was hardly any bigger than one of his father’s toenails.” 🐘

#Goliath II #Goliath II 1960 #a very small elephant #Disney fanart #character study #Disney shorts #short cartoon #Disney short cartoons #xeroxgraphy animation #xerox #jungle #elephant #Kevin Corcoran #Bill Peet #Wolfgang Reitherman #John Lounsbery #Sterling Holloway #Walt Disney #Disney 100 #late night drawing #60s cartoons #Dumbo #The Jungle Book

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #274: Divided... We Fall!

December, 1986

Hercules’ Last Stand!

Uh oh!

Hercules hates it when he dies! Hey, Masters of Evil! He’s not into being beaten to death so cut it out!

It’s been a whole week so I should contextualize the last times.

In secret, Baron Zemo has been gathering up villains that want to beat up Avengers so he could form a new Masters of Evil to beat up the Avengers. And not just any Masters of Evil. The biggest Masters of Evil. The most dangerous and most well-prepared Masters of Evil. New Baron Zemo isn’t going off half-cocked, he’s carefully planned for his Siege on Avengers Mansion.

Although, he’s already inside and in control of their base so is it really a siege?

Anyway, by keeping tabs on the Avengers and all their personal problems, Zemo found a moment when the mansion was unattended except for Jarvis and had his Masters storm in, tear through the defenses, and capture the place before Jarvis could get an alarm through the Masters’ preparations.

And now Zemo is going to destroy the Avengers. I mean, that’s the plan anyway. Lets see who blunders face first into danger.

Ha, it’s Black Knight.

Poor dolt.

Like I said, Zemo has been keeping tabs on the Avengers. So he suspects that Black Knight is too distracted by Wasp liking Paladin and not liking him to be too attentive as he returns to the Mansion.

And he is correct!

Partially correct!

Dane doesn’t notice that the front gate has been replaced because he is still dwelling on Wasp not paying enough attention to him. But he does eventually notice that something is amiss because all the lights are out.

Black Knight blocks an opening attack by New Yellowjacket but gets literally floored by Mister Hyde punching him through a wall.

And I mean that Hyde is the one who goes through the wall.

Then Hyde pounds Black Knight unconscious. And would have pounded him into chivalry jelly if New Yellowjacket hadn’t intervened and convinced Hyde to chillaxulate.

New Yellowjacket: “Hyde, no! We’re supposed to take him alive!”

Mister Hyde: “Hyde, yes! It is folly to let enemies live!”

New Yellowjacket: “But if we kill him, we can’t use him against the other Avengers!”

Mister Hyde: “Hmmph! True... alive, he does have his uses! One as weak as he, I can always kill later!”

Hyde ties up knocked out black and blue Knight with his own cape and the two villains go to dump him next to Jarvis on the Avengers meeting table.

But on the way, New Yellowjacket starts pondering misgivings. Hyde is playing ball now but how long is that going to last? How long is Zemo going to be able to control the group without it imploding in violent in-fighting when Hyde or another of the fighty boys decides he doesn’t want to follow orders anymore?

I’m going to put my money on this group either imploding or exploding by the end of the day.

After dumping the unconscious Black Knight on the prisoner table, New Yellowjacket hands over his sword and magic helmet, I mean his helmet and magic sword.

And then the Masters just crack wise on Dane’s entire concept for a while.

Wrecker: “Ain’t that sword s’posed to be indestructible?”

Baron Zemo: “Yes, Wrecker, there’s even rumored to be a sort of... enchantment about it.”

Piledriver: “A magic sword, huh? Too bad he didn’t have a magic head to go with it!”

Tiger Shark: “Maybe he does! Hey, Bulldozer, wouldn’t you say his face was magic?”

Bulldozer: “Yeah, Tiger Shark -- it’s turning into a giant bruise! Haw-haw!!”

Devastating.

If Black Knight hadn’t been beaten unconscious, he’d be feeling like a chump right now.

Moonstone points out that maybe they should save the comedy routines for when they’ve actually completely won and Baron Zemo actually agrees. They’ve seized the building, the butler, and the Black Knight. But the most dangerous Avengers are still to be dealt with.

Speaking of, Captain Marvel.

She’s sitting at home in New Orleans, reading the newspaper and tutting over a change in interest rates.

Then she receives a radio watch hail from “Wasp” who asks Monica to get to mansion as quick as possible, no time to explain, go go go.

Yeah, it’s a trap.

And Captain Marvel realizes its a trap as soon as she sees Jarvis and Black Knight tied up because Wasp wouldn’t send her into a situation like that without context.

But by the time she realizes its a trap, she’s already fallen for the trap.

Blackout gets her with the darkforce. And despite learning how to turn into neutrinos to combat this exact weakness, neutrinos don’t save her here.

The darkforce covers Captain Marvel completely and then compresses into nothing, blipping Monica out of existence.

Aw. Bye Monica. You were the light of this run.

Baron Zemo comes in and tells Blackout hey good job.

Then he complains that Black Knight is still unconscious! Zemo wanted to taunt him about being party to Captain Marvel being blipped out of existence but Hyde beat him too hard.

Ah well. Make lemonade.

Instead, he gloats to Jarvis who is a literal captive audience.

YOU SEE JARVIS, THE MASTERS ARE VERY SMART AND VERY PREPARED. Using a voice simulator they attached to the Mansion’s radio transmitter, they were able to broadcast orders with Wasp’s voice.

ALSO: Captain Marvel is gone. Black Knight is subdued. Namor is off the team because of his Namor drama. That just leaves Hercules, Wasp, and Captain America.

Or mostly just Hercules. Once Hercules is out of the way, wasp and Captain America will be easy.

Meanwhile, at the main computer terminal of the Mansion, New Yellowjacket is trying to break into the Avengers’ data files but the Avengers managed to safeguard those much more securely than they did the Mansion.

Makes sense, honestly. The security system has to worry about accidentally killing idiots off the street. But its harder for password protection on a computer to kill someone.

The Fixer offers to help since maybe a computer system designed by Second Best Engineer Tony Stark will be too difficult for New Yellowjacket. Maybe First Best Engineer the Fixer should give her a hand.

New Yellowjacket doesn’t appreciate the hand.

It does look like he was getting a little too in her space with it.

You gotta respect people’s face space, the Fixer.

But I’m going to go ahead and tally this up next to “Mister Hyde is definitely going to get antsy not killing people and become ungovernable” on the internal tensions list.

As soon as Zemo said the key to beating the Avengers was unity, the countdown started ticking for how long he could keep these people from each others throats.

And the Fixer seems like the type to not leave well enough alone.

Anyway. More Zemo. He wants to know how everything is looking. Fill his ears with sweet exposition.

The Fixer explains that the Fantastic Four are still out of the country in Fantastic Four #297, apparently dealing with... uh. Huh. Roger Stern is writing Fantastic Four at this time. Double dipping into two of Marvel’s big books. But the Fantastic Four are dealing with some feuding brothers and are going to accidentally dunk a planet into a vortex.

So they’re not going to be messing up the Masters’ plans.

And the Masters used the same Wasp voice simulator trick to send the West Coast Avengers off to Indonesia to hunt snipes.

I don’t think that incident reflects in the West Coast Avengers book. Kinda hope it does.

Point being, the West Coast Avengers won’t be the cavalry either. Nothing can stop the Masters from defeating the unsuspecting remaining Avengers!

SPEAKING OF UNSUSPECTING AVENGERS,

Off in New Jersey, the Wasp is just chilling by her pool thinking about her boytoy Paladin and how she’s so tempted to tie him down by recruiting him into the Avengers. If only all her ethics didn’t stop her from abusing her chairwoman position. And also if only it would even work.

When Captain America jumps out of a helicopter, does a flip off her diving board, and lands next to her for a chat. An urgent chat.

That was completely unnecessary, Cap.

Just do a cannonball into the pool like anyone else would have.

Cap(tain America) tells Wasp that he recently had an encounter with the Trapster and Whirlwind in Captain America #324, on sale then. He figured that Wasp would be interested, given that Whirlwind is a big creep with a big creepy obsessive crush on her.

He figured but when he called the Mansion to inform her, she didn’t seem very interested.

Which confuses her since this is the first she’s hearing of it.

Wasp: “Me?! That’s impossible! I haven’t been in the mansion for a couple of days!”

Captain America: “Whoever it was sounded exactly like you -- and I couldn’t believe you wouldn’t be concerned about Whirlwind’s activities. I knew I’d better contact you personally... and find out what was wrong.”

Pulling the loose thread.

Or the bait?

Given how Zemo has been obsessing over the Avengers’ persona lives, the better to manipulate them, it’d be odd that he’d overlook the connection between Wasp and Whirlwind.

But maybe its not public knowledge outside the Avengers and Whirlwind. Maybe Whirlwind hasn’t been broadcasting his obsessions to the world.

So Zemo overlooks and sends the one person he shouldn’t send to go distract Cap.

Since it sounded like Wasp when Cap called the Mansion, Wasp figures that either their communication lines have been tapped... or worse, someone has taken over the Mansion.

And Wasp quickly finds out its the second thing when she sneaks in through the ventilation at wasp size to scout the situation.

Wasp’s powers are great and I won’t hear otherwise.

Since the Masters of Evil are between Avengers to ambush, they’re filling the time with breaking the furniture and searching through the drawers for valuables.

They’ve got the heroes’ HQ, so why not loot?

Wasp returns to the ventilation and looks for signs of other Avengers or Jarvis and eventually finds the still unconscious Black Knight and the conscious Jarvis in the meeting room, on the prisoner table.

She ungags Jarvis and he quickly explains the situation to Wasp, including clarifying that the Baron Zemo they’re dealing with is the original Baron Zemo’s son and that the Masters of Evil team is the strongest and biggest roster its ever had.

Wasp wants to untie Jarvis and help him escape to safety but the ever-loyal Jarvis tells her its more important that she stop Hercules from walking into an ambush.

Not too much time later, Hercules is dropped off at the Mansion by his date Tanya Sealy.

After he leaves her car, she calls Zemo and tells him she drugged all of Hercules’ booze as he hired her to do.

Tanya Sealy: “I’ve just dropped your pigeon off in front of Avengers Mansion... full of enough drugged booze to knock out an elephant! I’m surprised he can still stand, let alone walk! You’re already deposited my fee in that Swiss account? A pleasure doing business with you, Baron!”

Dang, I can’t believe that the woman who lured Hercules away from monitor duty, leaving the Mansion underdefended, also would drug him and shove him towards an ambush.

For shame, Tanya Sealy. For shame.

Anyway, Hercules stumbles towards Avengers Mansion but tiny Wasp and “Stevie” intercept Hercules and pull him into an unmarked van.

“Stevie” is really Captain Steve America and the tiny Wasp is a normal sized Wasp who shrunk down.

Wasp explains that the Mansion has been overrun by supervillains and relates everything Jarvis told her about the attack.

Except that included how Captain Marvel got blipped out of existence. Now Hercules is mad. Drunk, drugged, and mad.

Even though Wasp tells him to chill until they can come up with a plan of attack and rustle up some reinforcements (and maybe for Hercules to sober up some so he’ll be more useful), Hercules decides the plan of attack is to attack RIGHT NOW.

He punches his way out the secretly technological van and marches towards the Mansion.

Hercules: Fool woman! When this is done, I shall demand new leadership in the Avengers!

Ohhhh Hercules. You and your mild misogyny. Now is not the time for it and also never is the time for it. But particularly now.

I still don’t know whether Zemo knew about the Whirlwind thing but Zemo getting the Wrecker to wind up Hercules about a woman being leader is paying off.

I don’t think Zemo did know. But as a precaution against Wasp managing to learn about the situation and attempt to organize a counter-plan, Hercules being too dumb to play in a group works out too well.

Well, Hercules isn’t actually dumb in a general sense.

He doesn’t just walk into an ambush. He tries to flank it.

The ambush will be waiting for him at the front door, so Hercules will just punch himself a new door where nobody is expecting him.

Problem is that Hercules is too drunk and drugged and wound up for much more critical thinking than that. Instead of caution, Hercules picks a fight with the first supervillain he happens to run into.

Tiger Shark. A guy that trades blows with Namor so not exactly a pushover.

But at least Hercules being in the mansion punching his guy does surprise Zemo. And to Fixer’s worry, Captain America and Wasp are charging the front door.

Zemo reminds Fixer that they’re in control of the Mansion’s security systems, duh. And also to send the beefiest boys to backup Tiger Shark and to have Moonstone have Blackout prepare to “seal off the Mansion.”

The team leader’s contribution to the team tends to be ‘manages to not completely lose their head at the first sign of trouble, suggests obvious plans’ and Zemo is solidly in the tradition of that.

Anyway, back to how dumb or not Hercules is.

Yes.

And by proximity he’s making Captain America and Wasp a little dumb or at least forcing their hand.

The original plan was to come up with any sort of plan but with their strongest dude rushing in they have to back him up or lose their strongest dude.

Here’s where the dumb comes in.

Hercules was smart enough to punch a hole through the wall to attack where they didn’t expect him. Wasp suggests Captain America to backup Hercules while she goes to free the hostages. But the two of them both rush towards the front door, the very avenue of attack that a drunk, drugged, pissed off Hercules rejected as dumb.

Ah well.

The Fixer turns the Avengers’ own security system against them.

While the security tentacles remain not really a big deal for people with any amount of superpowers, a sonic cannon that pops out from under the welcome mat is much more effective.

Captain America passes out from the sonics scrambling his brains shortly after telling Wasp to go for help. He gets dragged inside the Mansion by one of the turncoat security tentacles. Wasp barely escapes back to the street before collapsing.

When Wasp recovers her senses, she discovers that the entire Mansion has been hidden underneath a black cube rectangular prism created by Blackout.

Wasp is very alarmed that Blackout is capable of this. While inside the Mansion, Moonstone is very intrigued by how Blackout’s power has strengthened since she met him. She starts contemplating how to get Blackout back under her sway so she can wrest control away from Zemo.

Moonstone and her compulsive usurping. I love it.

Meanwhile, Hercules is beating the crap out of Tiger Shark.

Even a drunk, drugged Hercules is out of that guy’s league. Plus, Hercules smack talks while he smacks the amphibious adversary around. Since Tiger Shark is a Namor villain and since Namor is a guy Hercules has grown to respect, he tells Tiger Shark that he’s not fit to bathe Namor’s feet.

Do Atlanteans wash their feet? Their feet are almost always in the ocean. Do Atlanteans wash?

Anyway, Tiger Shark’s reinforcements show up. First, Mister Hyde who smacks Hercules with one of those... big, vaguely technological equipment pillars you sometimes see in comic book superhero or villain bases. Then he wraps Hercules up in it so the Wrecking Crew can start hitting him through his sudden... like he’s rolled up like a pig in a blanket.

It’s amazing.

Is this as funny as dropping a road roller on someone and then punching them through the road roller? No. Nothing can top that.

Is it still pretty hilarious fight choreography? Yes, very yes.

Also, wrapping Hercules up in a metal burrito and tenderizing his buns doesn’t actually knock him out of the fight.

He OH YEAHs out of the metal gyro, knocking Mister Hyde and the Wrecking Crew on their collective asses.

Drunk, drugged, PISSED OFF Hercules: “Did you jackals think you could overwhelm the lion of Olympus with mere numbers? Fools... I am no stranger to battle! Alone, I have braved the hordes of the Netherworld! I shall make each of you curse the days you were born!”

Except, there’s a NEW CHALLENGER!

And it’s Goliath.

Hey JOSTEN you’re mixing mythological idioms, dammit!

Also, dammit the West Coast Avengers! You were supposed to be watching this idiot!

Anyway, Goliath boasts that the bigger he is, the stronger he is but that he doesn’t even have to grow half as the biggest he can because Hercules is so drunkdrugged.

Then he grabs a Herc by the leg and bounces him off the scenery for a while.

And then he throws him to the ground so that the other villains can dogpile on Hercules.

This is what happens when your comic universe doesn’t have someone with FAIR PLAY printed on their clothes.

Anyway, elsewhere in the Mansion, Captain America is dragged before Zemo who kicks him in the face a couple times. Zemo is a big believer in the whole ‘kick them when they’re down thing.’

Zemo: “You have played the role of ‘Avenger’ for many years -- but vengeance is mine! Because of you, my father died... my family was torn asunder! Now, in return, your petty little team has been destroyed!”

Zemo, I’mma real talk with you.

Your dad was an idiot.

And I don’t know that you had a family to tear asunder because the man had already fled so he wouldn’t get persecuted for war crimes and so he could oppress an indigenous group to fulfill his racism kink.

Also, Zemo Sr killed himself like a dumb idiot after he lured Captain America into a confrontation. And also every fight between Cap and Zemo Sr after Cap dethawed happened because Zemo Sr started the fight.

Anyway, you’re dumb too.

Captain America: “It... doesn’t matter... what you do to me! You haven’t beaten the Avengers... not so long as one of us still lives!”

Zemo: “Really, Captain? The Wasp is the only member of your team left free, and she is no threat to us. Indeed, she was unwittingly a great help! The Black Knight’s infatuation with the Wasp made him a confused and easy target. And Hercules’ disrespect for her increased his natural recklessness."

Hey, I don’t love you blaming Wasp for her teammates emotions at her. You villain.

Meanwhile, outside the Mansion, Wasp has been trying to blast through the darkforce rectangular prism with her Wasp Stings. But even her power enough to blow up a small house isn’t even scratching this nonsense material.

The police offer to bring bazookas but she turns them down as it probably won’t work.

... Wait, why do the police have bazookas. What do they need to bazook?

Uh, anyway, Hercules is then ejected from the darkforce rectangular prism.

AND HE’S DEAD!!?

This is a very sad day for me, a person who usually likes Hercules even though he’s been a bit of a pill lately in this run.

;__;

Follow @essential-avengers​ and be sad with me about Hercules’ death. Like and reblog, its what he would have wanted.

#essential avengers #avengers #Avengers Under Siege #Masters of Evil #Baron Zemo #Wrecking Crew #Mister Hyde #Goliath #Yellowjacket II #Black Knight #Captain Marvel #Monica Rambeau #Hercules #the Wasp #Captain America #Edwin Jarvis #essential marvel liveblogging #the avengers have a bad day

[mastcrmarksman]

@gammaragee ⸻ "You can't choose who you fall in love with."

❝ What if that person is you, Bruce? ❞

That's a loaded question as if he's been holding onto that for a while. As if it's been locked into the chamber, last bullet, and this was the perfect shot, the only shot. The guy kind of walked right into that one. Finally, this weight that he had been carrying around with him for so long has finally been allowed to lifted off.

The load is by no means gone entirely, but something that he's been able to grow around. It's something that he's dwelled on, that's followed him since the last time they were sat across from each other. Part of him woneders if that was good for him by any means. It's a little stone that's settled in his chest and he no longer has trouble with it being there.

The shape of it, the ache of it, was all too familiar to Clint. It was that feeling of when he was left alone, when suddenly there was an abscence that he wanted to run away from. Something he had run from, that followed him, and made a home. He's had long enough to brood on this, that the feeling has settled like dust.

Was it messed up that where his own peace had came from with the decision to agree, to help, to shoot Bruce Banner was resolving that he had to have; that he did do this out of love. That while the man was gone, had been dead, he realized that the scientist and him were alike more than different. The few and far talks they had when th man had just been man, they knew parts of each other's childhood that other's wouldn't. From memory, from their own stories.

Bruce's the one that had looked at him and said what other's didn't, because he knew, because he knew aabout his dad, about Jacques and Buck, and his brother. A fact of himself, he escapsed and ignored, even if right now he was wishing that he had met Bruce at a bar in the evening than a roadside diner in the afternoon. Clint pushes his fork around on the plate, he's not sad about this fact, about this reveal.

Do they really have time for this? No, but Clint's had a lot more time to think about this, think think about Bruce. ❝ I just thought you should know that I love ya, buddy. I... ❞ He's sorry it didn't work out, but then, ❝ So you know I was glad to do it. ❞ Not for the reasons he gave in court and he wasn't lying then either. he saw the green, saw the vision, saw the need to protect everyonr but every day in that jail celll, in his solitarie; he thought about Bruce Banner. His memories of him and the Hulk, of that moment.

When he hit the road with each twist of knife as people thanked him, his resolve only pushed towards torward this feeling for Banner. It's one he had before, already had been going (why else would he have kissed him). With him being dead and gone, only encouraged him to say it, to take every shot he had and this was that moment. You miss every shot you don't take.

❝ I've, uh, had time to think 'bout that. ❞ He picks up the cup of coffee to take a sip, Clint's not expecting Bruce to say anything. He'd sooner assume he'll get up and leave, or find himself looking down at the Hulk (who he really doesn't want to have this conversation with at the moment).

#civil war ii cw #cwii cw #suicide cw #alcoholism cw #fuck it do i canonize us a little verse where they did know each other in childhood #[ VERSE; Gammarageee ] tag pending #[ VERSE; 616 ] All he ever needed was to trust his own wings #[ SHIPS; GAMMARAGEE ] I'd fall quicker and harder for you than when David shot Goliath #[ ic ] gammaragee #gammaragee #here we go. it's been cooking a litle. im sorta at peace with this. #i also just. can't wait for when we actually just write them soft and happy. #but i blame bruce banner for this.

[petalbursting]

⠀⠀⠀SHE'S⠀⠀ lost track of how long she's been here. More accurately, she's long lost the presence of mind to try and track it. Long enough for her knees to lock and need to sit down — but with the weight that continued to dig into her chest, that could be anywhere from minutes to hours. At first, she'd diligently sought out the fragments of light that could be found from ward to ward, poking around long enough only to determine whether or not it was her own before accepting it or moving on. She moved without really thinking much about it, because that's what she should do — and all the while, the uncertainty gnawed a deeper and deeper hole in her gut.

⠀⠀⠀THERE ONCE WAS A GIRL IN A TOWER. . . ⠀⠀ 

⠀⠀⠀Even with just a glance, even with her appearance drastically different, Ruby recognized that girl immediately. The weight that always sat on her shoulders began to bear down, but she diligently collected the ball of light. She waited patiently for the memory to play out, for the anxiety and helplessness that bit at her heels to gain some needed context. She moved on to the next, but the gears in her head kept turning. Did she really need the context ? The feelings without a source were disconcerting, but feelings eventually went away, right ?

⠀⠀⠀All except the heaviness. That never went away.

⠀⠀⠀DO NOT FALL.⠀⠀ 

⠀⠀⠀The second memory had been a whole Ward away, which just felt really unnecessary. That's a whole lot of time to try and convince herself that she really, really wanted to find it — and it made the knee-jerk disappointment of stumbling across it all the more potent. She could feel the wind without a source bracing against her body as if trying to stop her fall, remember the way it felt when Blake's warmth was no longer there. She's never felt a fear as raw and potent as when Yang went over the edge, or when Gambol Shroud missed its mark. This instinctual dread of Neo's shadow made all the more sense now, and she felt like kicking herself for having lost that specific piece to the puzzle. The weight finally stopped grinding against the very bones of her shoulders, but slid carelessly down to her chest — where now, in the present moment, it languished.

⠀⠀⠀SAL . . . U . . . TATIONS !⠀⠀ 

⠀⠀⠀She'd practically jumped away from the harmless ball of light, as if the shock of it were a pure electric jolt. For some reason... This is the memory that plagues her the most. This is the one that wraps an uncaring fist around her heart, feeling it beat frantically between the fingers. Maybe it isn't even entirely the memory itself, but the knowledge that it is likely the last she needs to recover. When did she stop doing things because she felt a pure want to, because her heart guided her to — and when did she start doing what she felt she was expected to do ? Ruby knows how this place works. It's a completely separate existence from Remnant, from Cinder... from Salem. They may come here, sure — and that would be a crisis for everyone.

⠀⠀⠀But... when — if... she went back to Remnant... If she went back, the memories would flood back anyway. Right ? So... Is there really a need to bother ? Off principle, sure, but... to forget some of this is almost like setting down an entire part of herself. Feelings eventually went away... and eventually, if she had no need to feel heavy, the heaviness could ebb away too. She could get used to Spirale again, carve out the parts of herself she didn't like — and this could just be a pretty good jump-start. She could be anyone she wanted, in theory... And would that really be so bad ? … She still doesn't know.

#* EVENT : FRAGMEMORIA II. #hi i just wanted to be a tiny bit sad before the conclusion drops in... checks watch... 6 minutes hell yeah #teeechnically if you wanna respond to this goliath feel free?? i'd eat it up?? but i'll tag it as a drabble anyway #* : drabble. #word count: 663

[belokhvostikova]

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐔𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | After five months of no reconciliation with the man whose lifestyle became too much for you to manage, you're met with your ex-boyfriend, the rockstar, after an accident leaves you in the hospital, and you face the realization that Eddie Munson is still your emergency contact.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, crying, mentions of alcohol consumption, hard drug use, insecurities, minor jealousy, fighting, breakup, brief mention of infidelity (no cheating, though), hospital setting, head injury, concussion, mentions of stitches, mentions of blood, and mentions of seizures.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | Y'all, I'm 19! So, as a gift to you (whatever logic that is) here's a fic that takes place around Christmas, so I guess, also a belated Christmas gift. Happy birthday and Merry Christmas! Also, the extent of my knowledge on injuries is purely based on the fact that I took both Health Science I and II in high school, and, well, that's it. So, if anything is inaccurate, NO IT'S NOT (because I said so).

“Will you-” so vividly, you heard his boisterous laughter dense the air sweetly, his face glowing with the ever peaking sunlight that glimmered the sparkling snow outside each time you peered up to his extended height. “It’s like you’re trying to make me fall!” His dramatic accusations were merely met with your fits of giggles, something he so gladly wished to always be met with, as the graze of your cold fingers buzzed his skin with the excitement of what used to be your touch. “Seriously, baby, I can’t finish this if you’re attacking me.” 

But you made no effort to stop, continuing your precise placement of delicate ornaments upon the belt loops of his jeans, the links of his chain, the pockets of his backside, perhaps even one snuggly secured in the threaded rips of his pants. With your boyfriend at your mercy—stuck a couple feet higher atop the fifth step of the ladder to fulfill your dreams of draping green garland to surround your high rise windows—you couldn’t help the ebullient urge to decorate him as you pleased, bringing some loving festivities to the black denim ensemble he regularly sported. 

Effervescent balls of sparkling reds and yellows accompanied the hanging bandana of his back pocket. “You’re like my very own personal Christmas tree!” You beamed upwards, watching a smile that was personal to himself, as he lavished in the innocence this holiday expelled from you. “C’mon,” a fatuous whine that had him chuckling with strings of fake green leaving his hand to secure around the window frame, “have a little spirit!”

And perhaps, that’s all you were trying to have now: spirit.

Because in the blink of an eye, the purity of crystalline, white snow had turned into sludges of watery dirt to meet the once twinkling hues to stringing lights that now simply became the bane of your existence. Because to you, everything embellished itself as a mockery to the happily ever after you now no longer had. 

But it never hurt to try, and yet, trying became the very literal thing that hurt you. 

“…What occurred in the midst of their fourth track, Corroded Coffin’s notable ‘Goliath’s Wrath,’ left fans in a frenzy, when frontma…” Your eyes blurred with exhaustion, attempting to fight back the heaviness of your eyelids that left your vision impaired by spotty shades of blacks and whites. Various pitches of ringing clashing with static voices began provoking that throbbing ache in your head that pounded your brain to mush. “…Information falls scarcely upon accuracy, though there were mentions of a family emergency as to the reaso…” One harsh breath for your dense chest left your nose to be invaded by the artificial, bitterness of antiseptic. All more of a reason for your eyes to screw shut in a brutal endeavor to appease the gnawing of your head. “…Demanding refunds for a set that had to go on without the leading m-”

“You’re up!” Your eyes shot open. His aging skin told stories of his life, crinkling into an abundance of creases that welcomed your startled awakening. “I know things may seem a little scary and confusing here, kid.” Heaving became an understatement when your eyes accepted the burning tiles of white around the room, and suddenly, whatever news outlet that was recounting the upheaval of 90s Hollywood from the tiny television that served its purpose of passing time was becoming drowned out by the abrasive beeping of monitors that clung to your body with tubes. “But just bare with me, alright, everything’s going to be okay.”

Okay? Your body felt cold under the roughness of hospital linen. “I-I…” A reckless try at sitting up left your mouth soaring with an agonizing groan from the pain, your sore body all too weak for the heavy lifting at your head, that suddenly felt the density of a dozen bricks that smashed together. 

“Take it easy, alright.” The older gentleman smiled, urging you to lay back against the flat pillow with his simple gestures. “I know things are a little hazy here, but my name is Dr. Rosenthal, would you be able to tell me yours?” Your brows scowled at the disparaging child-talk the man thirty years your senior was showcasing you. 

With a roll to your eyes—something instantly regretted because of the pain in your head—you dryly croaked. “Y-Y/N.” It was all too bright. God, what would it give to flip off the overhead lights? You never really were a fan of overhead lights, but his excuse of, “we have money now, these lights can stay on,” had a knack for making you giggle. It’d been five months since those overhead lights were ever turned on again. You wondered how often Ed-

“That’s great!” Dr. Rosenthal smiled, and you accepted the scraping scribble of his pen against his papered clipboard to satiate the buzz of your brain. “Tell me, Y/N can you remember anything about how you may have gotten here? Any recollections you may-”

“Where is- is she here?!” You fought the throb of your head to snap into the direction of the door, where Dr. Rosenthal mimicked your concern. In truth, the smell hadn’t been all too great; beads of perspiration coated his body in part with the concoction of spiced cologne and the bitter bourbon he regularly downed before coming face-to-face with thousands in a packed arena. “Y/N- she’s- what, what happe- oh, shit!” Cindy Jaurick had been a renowned makeup artist in Hollywood, but with the dryness of his skin, even she couldn’t conceal the bruising of his sleep-deprived eyes; splotches of alabaster cream became patchy upon his bags that smeared with the waxiness of black liner. 

Eddie Munson, all leather and chains that clashed with his truest self of denims and tees. A facade so greatly curated by the hands of top executives that in a span of three years, millions were acquired to his name. Such a stupid name, you now thought. 

A heavy step forward left his booted foot clanking against the white tiles, a movement too abrasive for your liking, as his incoming hand has you pushing back from his reaching touch. “Excuse me, sir, you need to step back and calm down.” Dr. Rosenthal proclaimed, a man of loyalty to his position, clearly perturbed by any bothersome that came to his patients. 

“I just- what the hell happened, are you okay?!” His jewelry—the real kind, far from the fake silver he once adorned that periodically fused his fingers green, but loved them more than anything—jingled to the admission of his distress, hands harshly raking through the chunks of sweaty hair over the sight of your damaged self. 

An audible clap came with the hit of Dr. Rosenthal’s clipboard to Eddie’s exposed chest, where the buttons of his designer brand had been deliberate to showcase the permanent markings of his tattooed skin. “Sir, unless you are a relative or partner of-”

“Yes! Yes, I’m her boyfriend-”

Your memory hadn’t served you right for the occasions that brought you to the hospital, but you knew enough that Eddie Munson no longer brandished the title of such, given the circumstances that occurred five months ago. “N-No, he’s, um, not… anymore.”

“Then, sir, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave-”

“No, I- do you even know who I am?” Eddie watched your face scrunch with disgust at his language to the doctor, but whatever damage control he attempted fell short on your solidified opinion of a distasteful eye roll against him. “Shit, no- like, I mean you called me. I-I’m her emergency contact! I swear it, I’m Eddie!” 

And you slumped back against your bed. Clear as day, you remembered the cursive handwriting that marked the page with the name and number of your ex-boyfriend. When a year ago, months apart finally came to a halt as Eddie’s touring schedule cleared for the coming holidays. It would suffice to say the bedroom of your quaint Indianapolis townhouse saw little abandonment, with silk sheets becoming imprinted with the weight of your bodies that refused to leave the warmth of each other’s depraved company. In doing so, your judgment became clouded from the usual routine of bathroom care that came after a heated rendezvous. But could you be blamed? Believe it or not, there actually was a time when Eddie’s embrace brought you comfort and peace. What eventually transpired into a run-of-mill UTI had actually worsened quicker than expected. Over-the-counter medication did little to relieve you from the infection, and when your back suddenly began to ache, you knew a trip to St. George's Hospital was in need. With a close call, your kidneys were able to stay intact to your body, and the use of dialysis was spared from your future. And yet, who knew the most haunting occasion of that experience would come with the boyish smile of Eddie Munson, as he watched with lovesick eyes as you entrusted him as the man you’d want in the case of an emergency.

My god, how times have changed… 

“Um, yeah, yeah, he is.” You swallowed the dryness of your throat, hoping the commotion of everything would finally settle to alleviate the stress of your head. 

“Well, Ms. Y/L/N, it’s up to you if you’d like him here.” Dr. Rosenthal sighed, a harsh click to his pen that surely cemented his dislike for the gaudy man upon him. “Your neighbor has already left, but I can assure you that the nurses will make frequent routines to keep you in care.”

Neighbor? “I- um, Trevor?” Your head spun with the lack thereof details that painfully tried to piece themselves together. 

Eddie's hair flew with the snap of his head to your doctor, as his scowl silently demanded the explanation you both were desperate to hear. Dr. Rosenthal cleared his throat. “Ms. Y/L/N, you took quite the fall off a ladder in your home. After a while, your neighbor had found you, and did the deed of bringing you over. He mentioned you had borrowed his ladder to put up-”

“Christmas decorations.” What a wonderful feeling it was to have the epiphany that was as simple as regained memory. Where you no longer had a boyfriend to gladly bear the brunt work of Christmas decorations for your sole enjoyment, you now had to dish out yourself. Unloading dusty boxes had usually accompanied a teasing compliment to the muscles that bulged from his arms, though now, your back felt the strain of heavy lifting, because you refused to properly use your legs. “Um, y-yeah, I remember- well, I don’t remember falling, but, uh, I used Trevor’s ladder for the, um, y’know, what do you call them? The green, leaf stringy-”

“Garlands?” Dr. Rosenthal and Eddie spoke simultaneously.

And you perked up as best as your body would allow. “Yeah, garlands!” Your voice excitedly croaked. “You, uh, y-you remember?” For once, in five months, you actually acknowledged him. Eddie. “I-I like those garlands around our- my windows.”

He remembered. Your giggles ringing in his ears like magical sleigh bells. Your touch warming his skin against the burning cold. Your eyes twinkling over the simplicity of green garlands… something he couldn’t even provide you with now.

“That’s good.” Dr. Rosenthal smiled. “You’re recalling events and… history,” he pursed his lips against Eddie’s cold demeanor, “wonderfully. It’s a good sign of minimal memory loss, which falls quite commonly against those in situations as yours. When you fell, Ms. Y/L/N, your neighbor had informed us of a seizure-”

“Seizure?!” Eddie spat.

“Yes, seizure; fifteen seconds.” He clarified. “And with that, an immediate grade II concussion. We ran a necessary EEG and CT scan prior to your waking, as such classification can offer some findings. Fortunately, all we saw was the inevitable stretching of your neurons which caused a burst of electrical impulses in your brain explaining the seizure. Checking for any fracturing of the skull, or swelling, and bleeding, and you were quite lucky. Completely cleared.” His smile broke through his wrinkled face. “Though, you were brought in with quite the gash on the left side of your head, right between the parietal and occipital bone. Nothing too extreme on the severity scale, but in order to stop the bleeding we did have to repair the tissue damage with stitching.” A vapid explanation of the overly tight gauze that somehow felt like a ton of bricks around your cranium. “But other than that, your vitals are excellent.” Check, check, check off his clipboard. “It’s very likely you’ll continue experiencing a headache, perhaps some nausea, or dizziness. I do recommend an overnight stay to ensure secondary swelling doesn’t occur, and to guarantee your memory continues to function properly. But a morning discharge should be fine.”

A deep breath allowed your head to nod along. “Yeah, um, thank you… really.” You earnestly smiled.

But where you could muster a staid beam of politeness, Eddie Munson gleamed a smile so faux, even Dr. Rosenthal piqued him with a scowl—though miniscule for his professional aptitude. The heavy click of the door closing behind Dr. Rosenthal granted the heaviest breath to escape from Eddie before his attention scrutinized you. 

“What the hell were you thinkin’?!” He ambushed. Seriously, he knew you for seven years. Seven years of his fucking life, and not once had you ever dared to lift a finger for manual labor. Okay, call him old fashioned, but that’s exactly what he liked about you; you know, the whole damsel in distress that needed him whenever something fell loose or broken. That’s it, just the need for him. The need to want him around. “I-I mean, seriously, you- why couldn’t you just call me- or, or, like, Steve, or someone, so you wouldn’t get hurt?” Okay, so maybe calling him wouldn’t have been your first option. If the fact of being no contact for five months wasn’t enough, surely living across the country would have ruled him out. You stopped keeping up with his whereabouts weeks ago. But that wouldn’t stop him. It was you, for Christ sake! You wanted your garlands, Eddie would have given you your garlands. No matter the lack of communication. No matter the distance.

Eddie Munson would have given you everything. 

You dryly blinked. Twice. If only he felt like that when you both were still together. “Get out.” 

“Okay, no- wait, I’m not trying to blame you-”

“Really? Because that’s exactly what you’re doing. Get out!” Your tired voice tried to muster. 

“No, sweetheart, c’mon, I-I know- I just worded it wrong, okay? Please, I just- I don’t know why you would try to do something that would get you hurt like that. You could have, I don’t know, asked for help, like called me up, I promise I would have answered to help you-”

Your eyes rolled against his sentiment. “What, so I’m just too dimwitted to use a couple of tools?!”

“Well, you did fall.” By your stare, Eddie Munson had two seconds to live. “N-No, I didn’t say that- I, look, I just wish you would have called or someth-”

“And I wish you would just get out!” But your rash endeavor to sit up and shove him away legitimized the pitiless reality of your gnawing head hazing your vision and dismantling your balance, forcing Eddie to rush to your assistance. 

“I- okay, I’ll shut up, just lay back, relax, please, sweetheart. I don’t want you hurting yourself more.” 

“I’m fine.” You gritted. 

“There’s a chunk of your head missing.” Eddie retaliated with a deadpan so infuriating mocking.

A huff of disbelief rippled from your dry lips. “Dr. Rosenthal just said it was no big deal.”

“Like I care what that old fuck has to say.” Your scolding eyes ripped him a new one. “Okay, geez, didn’t know you two were such close friends.”

With no energy to fight back, you permitted his touch to push you back against stiff pillows, where his ink-engraved hands worked swiftly to cover your frail body from the harsh chills of the hospital air conditioning. “I’ll be quiet, promise.” He whispered, adhering to his words, as he silently watched you close your eyes away from him, now that his presence has garnered a throbbing headache. 

By the seventh beep, you no longer found interest in counting the indications of your working monitors. But where your mind lost the simple activity, you also gained attention to the whirring voices of the television. Sat by your side on the hardened chair, Eddie’s tapping toes forced your eyes to tear back-in-forth from his stance to the static colors of live footage coverage. 

“Man, all I hope is for a refund!” Drunk out of his mind, as the lights of cameras began emphasizing the drugged redness of the young man’s eyes. “Like, seriously, we’re all here for The Freak, and for him to just run off like that, dude, we paid for a Corroded Coffin show, and we’re gonna get it, or else we want our money back!”

A pan to the well-dressed reporter stocked drastically to the metalheads on scene. “Well, you heard it here first, folks. As we wait for more updates on the events that occurred that left Eddie Munson running off stage to what would have been his biggest performance in his home state, fans are pressuring for a refu-”

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere right now?” Eddie's head pulled itself from his intense stare that followed the grout of the tiled floors. 

“Huh?” His gaze followed yours which briefly led to the boxed television that delivered MTV’s insistent need to showcase a replay of Eddie “The Freak” Munson, lead guitarist and singer of Corroded Coffin, running off stage in the midst of their newest single, ‘Goliath’s Wrath.’ “Oh, um,” his hand waved you off, “my team will rip me a new one later, it’s fine.” 

You sighed. “And just for the record, I am self aware, so I did have someone there to help me.” You muttered, leaving his brows to furrow. “Trevor?” 

“Oh.” Eddie’s lips maneuvered awkwardly. “Trevor, right.” Knee bouncing, fingers tapping, Eddie knew he should have kept his mouth shut, but the question burned his mind for too long not to suddenly blurt out. “So what, are you seeing him or something?” And perhaps he should have kept his mouth shut, given the death glare you killed him with that had him reeling back his words. “I- sorry.” 

“Trevor has a girlfriend. And a ladder.” You scoffed. “And you of all people cannot be talking.”

Three weeks post the headlines that announced the separation between rockstar, Eddie Munson, and his longtime girlfriend, new reports were eager to air Hollywood’s newest romance between the amoral and Playboy’s finest, Lindsey Sawyer. To say you cried for weeks was quite the understatement, when your body physically impaired you from leaving the shielding comfort of your bed. While you rotted, Eddie danced on the grave of your love with his new girlfriend, whose six inch stilettos pierced your bludgeoned heart. Granted, it lasted nothing but a couple days, though it didn’t stop from the new pattern of recurrence in which Eddie found Hollywood’s new recycled “it” girl to accompany the image of a rager rockstar. Gisele Camarella, Pam Densely, Yvonne Huntsford; a new name, face, and body to compare yourself to. 

“I-” his shame flooded his cheeks crimsen, “those were never real- not, like- not like you, not you and me real. Just what management thought looked best.” Though, his quiet admission did nothing to soothe over painful memories. “I’m sorry.” Three scrapes of wooden legs scratching against white tiles was all it took to have Eddie Munson sitting by your side. “How do you feel?” His eyes fervently raked your face. “Honestly.”

“My head hurts.”

“About seeing me?” He clarified. 

Silence crept up in a suffocating manner, as Eddie watched your stoic lines revise his being. “I don’t like seeing your face anymore, Eddie.” How were you able to speak those words so calmly? Eddie’s throat choked him with unbearable bitterness that burned his insides. “You look stupid. You used to never look stupid.” 

Eddie Munson had a haunting past of failures; D’s and F’s marked such a bloody red over white papers, tainting any scribble of hard work he, at least, attempted at times. And what followed failed tests and quizzes only came with the taunting laughter of jocks and cheerleaders, jeering their distaste for his “kind” that branded his leather and denim as the epitome of all things they deemed nauseating. For a while, Eddie Munson believed himself to be nothing but stupid. The grades and reputation being all the evidence needed to solidify his self worth to him. Every compliment to your intelligence he gave you knew came with an underlying insecurity within him. Because you were smart, so smart. What was a smart girl like you doing with a stupid guy like him? 

So, yeah, your words hurt. As they intended to. 

Eddie’s eyes dropped with shame, his Adam’s apple following suit with a thick bobbing gulp of guilt. His eyes casted upon his tight leather jeans that felt insufferable under a building layer of sweat; too much eyeliner, at times clouding his vision from the very fans he loved seeing; sheer shirts waving in a draft of uncomfortableness, forcing him to long for prized t-shirts that gave him the movement to be him on stage; and a god awful personality detailed so preciously by management to make his name a headliner’s favorite. 

Yeah, Eddie Munson looked so fucking stupid. 

“I-I don’t like ‘em.” He stammered. 

“You used to.” 

-

July once brought Los Angeles, California a blistering heat. You hate heat.

Five months ago. 

“No, no, no, he’s full of shit, I was the one who came up with ‘Goliath’s Wrath!’” The cigar browning of Gareth Emerson’s scotch dribbled his lips wet with his drunken blubber, as men surrounding—all big money and titles alike—huffed out laughter worth millions to the men that provided them such wealth. 

Eddie’s nose burned with the ecstasy of white powder, dusting his beautiful features with the hedonism of all glory and power… for once, right in his hands. “Oh, fuck off, you were passed out drunk laying in your own piss when we wrote that god awful fucking song!” He laughed, joining in on the obnoxious cacophony of guffaws that held no sense of reality. 

A shoulder knocked into his. Greased slicked hair, gold rings, and a suit worth your car payment; Iverson Green. And Eddie had no fucking clue what he did. “You really don’t like the upcoming song?” He whispered.

And Eddie would never know. Information as such mattered little, as long as the man helped pay his check. “These braindeads approve of all this rock shit for the image.” Eddie bit back. “If I had it my way, I’d show ‘em real metal.” He smiled. 

A blood red stiletto acrylic stabbed at his shoulder before a cloud of Chanel °5 invaded his itching nose. “Got you booked.” She spoke, her breath tickling his ear over the sheer closeness needed over the vibrating base of stereos. 

Eddie turned his head to see her, a smiling Judy Carawan that had him beaming right back. “For what this time? I’m not doing some late night news bullshit again.” After the way Larry Parsons of Hollywood’s Friday Nights called out his delinquent behavior, executives were buzzing for another clash between Eddie “The Freak” Munson and talk show hosts to get the papers running. 

“Hilfiger.” Judy leaned in, a smirk of confidence for her work truly accomplished. “A fitting, then you wear one of his suits to the VMA’s, and that’s cash in your pockets. And mine.” 

Eddie’s face glowered with disgust, as he attempted to move away, her smell becoming too strong for his liking. “Save me a line.” He instructed to the man breaking rows of snow on the mahogany table. “Fuck no, I’m not wearing some posh-y model shit in front of the fucking cameras.”

“It’ll be one time, and a check worth a lifetime.” She rolled her eyes, a habitual stance against the troubles that came with personally assisting Eddie Munson. “Also, see.” Her slender finger pointed to the lengthy body of Cierra Kalahi, perched against the marbling chimney of your Hollywood Hills home. “Miss America’s Next Top Model will be wearing Hilfiger, too. You and some Shalom Harlow wannabe wearing the same designer is just enough to spark some attraction to your name.”

Eddie knew the venomous implications of her suggestion. “I’m not playin’ into your bullshit dating rumors.” A vicious cycle you two had to go through; you hurting more than the other, though. 

“Okay, fine, then we get your pretty, little girlfriend to wear a matching dress… that is if she’ll stop being a bummer.” 

“Don’t fucking do that, alright?” Eddie huffed, dragging his sweaty hands down the heat of his cheeks. His eyes felt like they were going to crack out of his skull from the dryness of being opened for the past forty-three hours. But the umpteenth swig of Old Fashioned was fueling him alongside the unstoppable fuel of crystalline cocaine. “She just- I- look, I’m not putting her out there where she doesn’t want to go. S-She’s too good- she’s too good for the cameras.” 

“She’s not good for your career.” Eddie felt her words echo into a repeated ringtone that irritated his ears. His vision grew blurred with his impulsive movements against her face. 

His hot, alcoholic breath fanned her bangs with each huff of his chest. “Remember who pays your fucking bills!” Nothing but the voices of Mötley Crüe tormented the background, as everyone but the music quieted to bask in the events of another Eddie Munson meltdown. “You say one more fucking word about her, and I’ll leave you to the fucking street.”

Judy Carawan cinched her eyes against his lost ones. Whatever bad boy facade he drugged himself into every night never scared her. Hell, she fed into it. “Eddie, I’m going to be quite frank with you, since no one else will be. You and your goody girlfriend will never last. If she truly cared for you like she says she does, she would do anything to keep your name in the spotlight. And if you truly cared for her like you say you do, you wouldn’t be snorting snow on your fucking anniversary.” Eddie's hardened muscles fell from realization. And Judy smiled such a sick smile. “And FYI, I was someone before you.” Eight years of work with Hollywood’s hottest clientele. “Can you say the same?”

Your lip wobbled under the harsh bite of your teeth to suppress the stinging tears from an embarrassing downpour. Despite his promises of a private evening, you braced your arms over your chest, where it became exposed from the strapless dress you uncomfortably endured, after too many magazine headlines criticized your lack of “looks” for the hottest rockstar in town. You’d never admit it, always brushing him off whenever he became concerned for your well being because of the tabloids, but he always noticed the subtle changes you made to look like the women in the city that felt like another plant from olde Indiana. 

And now, unwarranted flashes of cameras settled outside the Michelin Star restaurant that burrowed burdening humiliation into your skin, as a cautious peer around the setting allowed you to notice the pitying and gossip of the goers around you. 

Every minute that passed, you gave him the benefit of the doubt. But an hour and fifteen minutes just prevailed you to be a doormat. But could you be blamed? Seven years ago today, you ran into the man, himself, who turned the dreaded day of Hawkin’s High open house into a new adventure. Where you had the excuse of an actively involved mother, who became adamant on touring the unknown environment of the orange and green halls after your father’s relocation to the rural town, Eddie had an intransigent uncle who refused to watch his nephew lose another year of his life to failing high school, and imposed the young man to abide by the staff’s fake smiles, as they greeted parents and students for the coming school year. 

It’s funny how one sullen face can find another in a crowd of PTA parents and their goody-two-shoe children alike. Meeting eyes and a devilish smirk on his face was all it took for two strangers to find trust in one another, and sneak away in the depths of bushy, green woods. In retrospect, asking Eddie Munson to be your boyfriend after only three hours of knowing him was quite rash—he, himself, was quite taken aback, as well—but the worst that could happen was it didn’t work out. I mean, what high school relationship ever does? But his informative trek across lush grass, a shared cigarette, and talks that had your stomach cramping from fits of giggles was enough to solidify your decision at heart. And who was Eddie Munson to ever say no to a pretty face and soul like yours. 

And it worked out… surprisingly. 

It was quite the experience learning the ins and outs of someone you already called your boyfriend, but the pureness of it all bloomed into the most innocent love of two people navigating the world and finding themselves together. 

But suddenly, the world had a place in your relationship. The people had a say. In what you wore, what you looked like, who you had to be. And he allowed it. Allowed everyone to measle their way in. After the first promise to you that nothing would change, every single one to follow became a lie. 

Because he changed. 

You mustered the will to sniffle away any tears. He no longer became worth it to you. And it broke your heart. Your heels clicked their way out of the restaurant, where your being was blurred under the paralyzing flashes of people who invaded your life, capturing and exploiting your lowest moment for a check, and branding you the girl that held the greatest rockstar back.

Eddie stumbled back on wobbly feet, his mind too disorientated to care about the bodies he shoved that consequently left glasses of cocktails to shatter against the polished flooring of his home. Though, nothing mattered as long as he got to the door. But your crying self had beat him to it from the other side, swinging the grand doors that were always too heavy for your liking, and entering your home that was invaded by strangers and their substances, and Eddie… your Eddie standing in the middle of it all. 

His red, beclouded eyes had disallowed him the privilege of blinking your beauty straight, but through the haze of blear lines, he saw your face so clearly fall from disappointment.

From pure defeat. 

“W-Wait!” Eddie fought the incoordination of his legs to follow you outside, leaving his guest to watch in awe. “Baby, I- fuck! I-I’m sorry- ugh, I just- I forgot!”

Los Angeles’ humidity suffocated his airways that were already constricting from his sobbing chokes. His insides burned from the concoction of drugs and sweltering heat that only fueled at the sight of your broken face. “You forgot?!” You cried, swinging your body around to face the man you no longer recognized. “For the past seven years you’ve never forgotten, but now you do! What, is it no longer important for you?!”

Spit blubbered with his words, as his lips moved a mile a minute to keep your love preserved. “N-No, I mean- yes, of course, it’s i-important-” 

“Then why weren’t you there?!” Mascara stained the softness of your cheeks, now too darkened for Eddie to ever kiss the pain away. “Why aren’t you ever there?! For me!”

“I-It wasn’t my fault.” He heaved. “J-Jude, she-she said this s-stupid thing was scheduled, and-and she said it’d be quick-”

“Of course, it’s never your fault!” You bit back with the deflation of your arms. “It’s always the alcohol, or the drugs, or Judy, but it can never be your fault, can it, Eddie?!” His fist balled into his eyes, as snot caved down his nose. 

“N-No, it is my fault! I’m sorry, Y/N- I’ll fix it! I’ll do anything, I’ll make it up to you, I swear!”

“Don’t you get it?!” You marched up to his wrecked body. “Your promises mean nothing to me anymore!”

“Don’t, please!” Eddie sobbed. Shameful embarrassment ate him alive in the middle of your Hollywood Hills driveway. “I-I’ll stop all this, th-the drugs,” his arm smeared away the remnants of snot and cocaine against his nose, “the drinking, partying, everything, I mean it!” Because something deep within Eddie Munson knew this was the last straw.

You were done.

“Stop lying to me!” Your eyes stung with tears. “Why are you so comfortable lying to me, and h-hurting me?!” His head adamantly refused your words with a harsh shake to his head, but the history of abandonment that brought you to your wits end weighed more than his inebriated actions. “You touch me and it feels like a lie. You k-kiss me and it feels like a lie. E-Everything you do has become bullshit, Eddie! I don’t trust you. I-I just worry. Worried that anytime you’re not next to me you’ve drugged yourself dead, or-or knocked out somewhere, or… with women-”

“Don’t fucking say that! I’d never do something like that to you!”

“The Eddie I knew would never leave me to snort coke with strangers, but here we are!” You bawled in retaliation, forcing his mouth quiet in disbelief. “You’re not Eddie anymore! So, don’t stand here and tell me you wouldn’t do these things, when everything you do leads me to believe you are capable of doing something like that… something to hurt me! Because you do, Eddie! You hurt me.”

“I’m so fucking sorry! Please, Y/N, baby, I fucking love you, everything’s just been too much, a-and I forget things, I’ll be better!” You scoffed at his utter patheticism that grossed you out, turning your heel, but his large hand caught a tightening grip to your wrist. “No, I’m serious, sweetheart, I’ll change! I-I’m still Eddie!”

“Get off.” You quietly pleaded, exhausted from the sobs that wrecked your body. 

“Y-You can’t leave me, Y/N, no, I-I need you.” He choked. “I love you. So much. With everything in me. Please. We don’t do this to each other!”

“Then why do you keep doing this to me?!”

“Darling, Ms. Y/L/N?” Yours and Eddie’s head parted to the soft voice of Debby Weiser. Nearly a year ago, your elderly neighbor—who came into stardom in the 50s for her acts that revolutionized the spreading use of colored television—welcomed you into the gated neighborhood with a gluten-free muffin basket that had tasted like pure shit. But the kindness of her effort garnered a budding friendship with the mature woman who offered her wisdom on enduring Hollywood’s notoriety. “You alright there, sweetie?” Her southern accent never had assimilated to the Valley. 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You turned to his eyes, staring down the saddened roundness that no longer held the precious life they once used to. “I was just leaving.”

That night, you left to your shared Indianapolis townhouse that became your starter home when Eddie’s career was first taking off. You were so happy then. 

And he hadn’t seen you since. 

Until now.

-

Eddie Munson had fallen quiet. 

Everything had, in fact.

The constant beeping of your medical instruments drove him to madness, but he figured the insanity was substantial punishment for the hurt he caused you. He’d been suffering for five months already, what’s a couple more minutes? If anything, he’d be suffering for the rest of his life should it continue without you. 

But it didn’t have to. 

Eddie knew he had no right to gain your love once more, and the vulnerability of your state worsened the situation tenfold, but there was a reason Eddie received that call. A reason why his heart sank amidst a phone call that identified your beautiful name in an emergency, that left him dropping everything in front of thousands that cheered his name. Whatever cynicism that tainted his heart had long left upon your sweet arrival; a ‘thank you’ filled with such gratitude towards his uncle, when Eddie busted into the trailer with a smile too large to be because of Hawkins High’s yearly open house. Wayne Munson had never asked, mostly due to the fact that his nephew locked himself in his bedroom, where the nineteen-year-old worked endlessly for his new upcoming Dungeons and Dragons campaign that followed the grounds of fate and destiny. 

In the mere three hours of your presence, you gave Eddie Munson hope.

He’d be damned not to devote his eternal life to you. 

“Y/N, I…” his eyes laid low, examining the threads of linen that covered you, as his fingers twiddled with his rings to appease the constant bounce of his anxious knee. “I need you to know how terribly sorry I am for everything I did. All the times I hurt you.” He sighed, as his teeth sunk into his bottom lip. “I- uh, I just really need you to understand that everything that happened to us was not your fault. At all. You-” his breath shook with a tremble, “You really were so fucking perfect during everything. So patience, so communicative, and I-I never listened to you the way you deserved, I just- I don’t know, I thought maybe-maybe if I gave it my all to this career, I could finally give you everything you deserve.”

His eyes attempted to blink away searing tears, but his emotions were getting the better of him. “A-And I know how fucking selfish that is, I had- fuck, I had no right to assume what you wanted from me, and-and put you in a position where you had to go through all my bullshit, all because I thought that in the end it would make you happy… without even speaking to you about it.” Eddie's voice cracked with a harsh sniffle to gather his strength. 

“I-I’m getting clean, um, it’s been really fucking hard, but I-I got the boys s-setting me straight everyday. Especially after I practically tortured them with my cries after you left.” His pity laughter softly broke through. “B-But yeah, sweetheart, I-I’m doing pretty good for myself- well, tryin’ to, at least. Still kinda always, constantly, forever feel like shit,” Eddie chuckled, “but I’m managing. T-The drugs n’ everything flushed n’ all, n-now just trying to hold off the booze, y’know? But fuckin’ hell does a beer get me through it.”

A smile began etching upon his face, where the history of all the laughter you provided him with creased his face with the lines of joy that only truly showcased in your presence. “Talked to our manager, he sure as hell was pissed when I insisted on getting rid of Jude. And she sure as hell went out with a bang, and smeared by name to the tabloids, but, uh, you probably already read about that- or not, I don’t, like, expect you to keep up with me or anything, honestly I kinda hope you didn’t, because, well, those first couple of weeks after everything real-really, uh… brought the worst out.” A deep breath escaped his mouth, as his fingers dug into the temples of his head to alleviate the dull pain. 

“I-I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m really… trying.” Eddie swallowed thickly. “F-For my fans, the boys, myself, a-and you, Y/N. And I c-can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am for taking, y’know, taking this long t-to get better, and for not trying better before, for having to h-hurt you just to learn, I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N. A-And I’m not askin’ for a second chance- well, I know I don’t deserve one, not now or-or ever if you feel like it, I just need you to know I’m Eddie, somewhere inside- I’m working really hard on just being me- oh, but, of course, I do want to be with you. T-That wasn’t me saying I didn’t. I do, I-I always wanna be with you, I just- I, okay, I’ll shut up now.”

The deliberation was excruciating. 

The process of his words that rambled on for an eternity was too much to process, especially with a head injury, and he understood that to the fullest, but the quietness was becoming deafening, as he waited for your words… your rejection… your reciprocation. 

Anything.

And he couldn’t dare look you in the eyes, the ones that pierced his soul so deeply, and he desperately urged you to say something. Anything!

“Y/N?” Beep. Beep. Beep. “Sweetheart…?” His eyes fluttered forward. “Jesus H. Christ, Y/N!” Your peaceful sleep had garnered a frightful reaction from Eddie, as he jumped to his feet to urgently caress your face awake. Of course, when doing so, your eyes tiredly awoke to his face all too close for your liking, and a frown broke your face, as you attempted to move from him. 

“Christ, Eddie.” You debilitatingly rasped. “What are you doing?”

“Me?! What are you doing? Are you okay? You shouldn’t be going to sleep, you have a concussion! I-Isn’t that, like, something you shouldn’t do?!” He cupped your face straight to the blinding ceiling light, that had you mewling with annoyance. 

“Eddie, I can remember Reagan’s speech, and the fall of the Berlin Wall.” You dragged, prying his concerned hands off your face. “I think I’ll be just fine going to sleep. God, did you just expect me to stay up all night?”

A shuddering breath left his strangling throat, as his hands flexed at the electricity of the touch of your skin. His body tensed, as his round eyes worriedly followed the contours of features. “You didn’t- did you hear me, like, anything that I just said? B-Before you- I woke you up?” 

Your brows concave with a furrow of confusion, as you peered up at him through wispy lashes. “What’d you say?”

A deep sigh left his dry lips, as he flashed you a small smile filled with sincerity. “Don’t worry about it, okay? It was nothing.” His hands gently worked to cover your body further with blankets to keep you warm, as your suspicious stare hesitantly nodded in acceptance to his words. “Y-You hungry, or-or need more blankets? Painkillers, anything?”

You delicately rejected his help with a shake of your head. “Just tired.” You softly answered. “And you should probably leave, too. Get some sleep.”

Despite his mind refusing your proposal, he knew your rest was vital for recovery, and he watched you slowly turn your back to him, as his slow steps marked his way to the door. So lonely, he gazed at your tired body curl up into itself like it once did when his presence was actually yearned by you; all safety once found in his embrace, as he promised to never let go. And though he never did, his actions forced you to let go, as he now had to bear witness to seeing you become content with yourself. Something he could never imagine doing so. 

His finger flipped the switch. You never were a fan of the overhead lights. And once so, a peaceful sigh buried its way from your parted lips, as your mind rested in tranquil darkness. 

Eddie’s hand wrapped around the doorknob that allowed the hallway light to bleed in. But his eyes couldn’t dare leave you once more. Five months of deprivation killed him every passing day, and one glimpse of your beaten self made him feel like an addict breaking their withdrawal. There was once a time in which he was beckoned with the devastating occurrence of you leaving him no choice but to watch you walk away. Now, he had an opportunity. A chance. To walk away. Or stay. Leaving you alone, hurting, in a cold, empty hospital room was too heartbreaking of an option to ever endure, and he was vowing to his words of never hurting you again. 

He gently closed the door with no intent to deceive you, but rather care for you. Right now, what you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt you. And his mind felt at peace knowing he could watch over you; his heart dissipating to the rhythm of calmness only you could bring him to. His quiet steps guided him back to the stiff chair that numbed his bottom and stabbed at his back. But it all became worth it, finally seeing you at peace, after the last weeks he ever got to see you your face had been permanently etched in distress, because of him. 

Despite being awake for nearly twenty-two hours now, Eddie Munson spared a couple more just to look at you.

The morning to follow, Dr. Rosenthal had commented greatly on the normalcy of your brain. And Eddie felt envious. You could take thirty more blows to the head, and your brain would still function far better than his ever could. You, unfortunately, had no chance to question his lingering presence, since your body had been awakened by the prodding of a nurse who kindly checked if your vitals were up to par. You figured you’d save her the awkwardness of interrogating your ex-boyfriend, the rockstar.

“If necessary, just some acetaminophen of your choice once every four to six hours depending on the instructions. But if your pain seems to not be improving, I’ll surely write you a prescription for a triptan, whichever one we can work out best for you.” You nodded along, subtly watching Eddie in the corner of your eye, who was listening too intently for someone who was bound to leave in a couple minutes. “And for your stitches, twice a day, remove the old coverage, clean off, and apply a new gauze. After a while, you should be okay with doing it once, and by the two, two and half week mark, I’ll have a referral to remove them when the time comes.” You sighed, taking a minute to let your head process the instructions of the older gentleman before you. “Alrighty, any questions?”

“No, really, you’ve been so helpful with everything-”

“She can’t drive, right?” Eddie butted in. 

Dr. Rosenthal took a long second to peer at him, before clearing his throat. “Wouldn’t recommend it under your symptoms. Nausea and dizziness can impair your ability, so we can call someone, arrange transp-”

“I already got that covered.” Eddie spat a smirk back in retaliation. 

“As long as it’s okay with you.” Dr. Rosenthal sympathetically smiled at you.

You drew out a defeated sigh, and watched Eddie react like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Fine.” You begrudged. 

“Alright then, you go ahead and take the time needed to gather your things, and you can check out at the front desk.” Your trusted doctor assured you. “Call me if you have any questions or concerns, and I’ll gladly help. You have a Merry Christmas, Ms. Y/L/N.” Eddie was spared from a polite holiday goodbye. 

You gently smiled. “Thank you, have a Merry Christmas, as well.” 

With a click of the door behind him, Eddie was quick to let out a breath of relief, as though Dr. Rosenthal lifted a burden off his shoulders. His hasty movements brought your bag of clothes from beneath your hospital bed to plop against your legs. “These yours?” He pried the drawstrings open. 

“No, they’re the lady’s who gave birth before this became my room.” Eddie deadpanned, continuing to rummage through your belongings.

He snorted. “Psh, no pregnant lady would wear an Anthrax tee.” Something that very much still belonged to him, as he threw your t-shirt to your chest. 

“Did you stay here after I told you not to?” Your eyes glared in a deadly squint that challenged his snarkiness. 

“N-No.” A big, fat lie. His gaze was avoidant of yours, as his hands worked hurriedly to empty the bag of your pants… a brown flannel… your right Reebok… then the left, of course… an earring that stabbed him… the other that didn’t, because he learned his lesson… and some pretty, pretty pink panti-

“Stop looking at those!” You snatched the lacy material from his hands, as he threw his arms up in defense. “And if you didn’t stay, why are you still wearing the same clothes?” You prodded further. 

“Oh, my god, I didn’t stay.” He huffed. And you hated the portion of your heart that allowed his words to hurt you, because how come he didn’t stay? “Just headed back to the hotel, took a nap, and came back here early.”

You allowed your hurt to bite back. “That’s gross, you smell.” But he’ll permit your chastising insults if it meant you wouldn’t be angry at him for going against your wishes. 

“Can you just hurry up and change, so I can take you home.” He rolled his eyes. “I arranged a car to have us picked up, and take you home.” 

“I hope you know how pretentious that sounds.” And Eddie Munson stared and stared, as you balled your clothes into the sanctity of your lap. “Well, don’t look, turn around.”

Eddie’s mouth gaped, laughing in disbelief. “Please, sweetheart, I’ve been staring at you naked for the past seven years of my life.”

“You know what? Just for that, you can go to the bathroom and wait, until I say so.” You smiled, so pleased to watch Eddie scoff incredulously. 

Eddie turned on his heels with an exhale of exasperation to match, as he strutted his way into the tiny bathroom. “Can just close my eyes, and picture you naked.” Luckily with his back turned, he wouldn’t dare notice the small smile that cracked your face. 

Eddie’s mind had been buzzing with thoughts for the entire forty-five minutes it took for the chauffeur to pull up and parallel park in front of your townhouse. Like clockwork, your brow arched upon seeing the movements that followed yours: Eddie clicking his seatbelt. “Look, don’t give me that look, I already know what you’re about to say, but please, just let me come in, and help you.” You huffed, letting your eyes bounce from the window to his face that was hardened with determination. “C’mon, let me make it up to you this one time.”

Another defeated ‘fine’ was murmured under your breath, as Eddie made the quick trip to help you out of the car. “Just head back, man, I’ll call you when I need to.” Numerous bills were discreetly slid into the hands of the driver, before he took his cue to leave the neighborhood. 

“Hey, Y/N!” The blizzarding winter left the precisely planted trees along the sidewalk to lose their green shrubbery; your one shield from the sun that still blazed its light down the Demember wind. But through the glares, you matched that voice to the friendly neighbor who lent you his ladder… and subsequently took you to the hospital once you fell off. 

“Oh, hi, Trevor!” You waved to him from atop of his stairs, as you caught sight of the reusable bags of groceries in his hand. 

“Hm, Trevor.” Eddie hummed quietly beside you. 

Despite the cold, he took the needed steps down to speak to you at a volume that didn’t require yelling. “Hey, I’m sorry for leaving you at the hospital so suddenly, Andreas’ car broke down when she tried to leave from work, and I had to go help her-”

“Oh, please, don’t worry about it, it’s okay!” You reassured him from any guilt. “Seriously, I was out for most of my time there, and you already helped so much with bringing me there.”

“Yeah, and I was going to head back to check on you, but they told me your partner-”

“Yeah, me! Y’know…” Eddie interjected with a wave, as you suppressed the roll from your eye, watching him proudly identify himself as such with an eager point of his finger. 

“Yeah, hey, Eddie, been a long time since I’ve seen ya, man-”

“Oh, Y/N! Trevor told me all about you!” Andreas' voice echoed from the front door, as her robe clung closely to her body in an effort to house any warmth she could. “How are you feeling? Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, nothing to worry about, just a couple stitches and a concussion.” As polite as they were, your flannel was only doing so much to shield you from the cold, which was already in hand causing that throb to return from the sharp blinding of the sun. Why wouldn’t they shut up?

Eddie watched the twitch of your eye succumb to your expression. If anything from the last seven years taught him anything, it was that you were two sentences away from a fully engraved scowl chiseling your face; always so unaware of how blatant your emotions showcased. “Speaking of which, I should probably go get her to lay down, and rest!” Eddie smiled, as he took your hand up the stairs to your front door. 

“Of course, no problem.” Trevor kindly smiled. “And, hey, keep my ladder as long as you need, don’t worry about it.” 

An exchange of ‘thank you’s’ finally allowed your neighbor to leave you be, as the key slid into the lock of your door. “That was Andrea, his girlfriend. Are you gonna be jealous if I speak to her, too?”

His laughter warmed the chilled air that smoked his breath. “Fuck off, sweetheart.”

Your house had been all but welcoming upon the first steps. A puddle of blood had stained your wooden floor with the injuries of your head, as fallen garlands messily draped down your walls from your lack of skills with a hammer and nail. You’d never admit to him in a lifetime, but Eddie Munson was surely right that you, personally, were too dimwitted to use tools with no guidance. Turns out a leveler and stud sensor were actually quite useful in keeping your house from being hammered with the countless holes that now decorated your walls. You watched Eddie take in the amateur scenery, his will working overtime to stifle the chuckle that quivered his lips thin. “You make any comments, and I’ll kick you out.”

His hands flew up in defense. “I wasn’t going to say anything- although, how gnarly would a photo of your blood be as our next album cover?”

Giggles of shock coming from you rang in his ear like a catchy melody. “Listen, you came here to help, so please do. I want to shower, and sleep-”

“And eat. That hospital food was shit.” He prioritized. “Go shower, I’ll make you some breakfast,” his watch proved otherwise, “or lunch, I guess, and you can eat before you sleep- oh! And take your medicine, as well. I’ll switch out your bandages when you’re done showering. Don’t worry about anything here, okay? Just relax for me.”

And you did just so, following the words of his advice brought you to the warmth of your shower, where your limbs fell slack from destressing. You worked around the stitching of your head that stung under hot water, as you maneuvered your hair through the rainfall of the showerhead. But too much steam was beginning to blur your vision, and your shower was cut unfortunately short after you swiftly rid your body of any lingering antiseptic smell that clung to you. 

“Ow, Eddie!” Your hand squeezed his, as your forehead became cushioned by the tone of his torso, where he stood before you. 

As you sat on the toilet, he looked down, and caressed your head gently. “Sorry, sweetheart, just gotta get it clean, ‘s all.” A new square of gauze concealed your wound, before a long strip of bandage secured itself around your forehead. Your head lifted from the comfort of his belly, and he bent at the waist to examine your face. A smile grew so naturally. “There… beautiful as always.” There was no denying the lunge in your heart that soared at his words, but your stubbornness withheld the swoon that would have usually followed with a new inure look to your face. Eddie guffawed at your pertinaciousness. “Fine, I hope you know you have a bald spot on the back of your head.”

And he devilishly smiled at your sudden movements to feel around your hair. “It’s only because of the stitches.” You gruffed in protest. “Plus, what the back of my head looks like is none of my business.”

“Still, you’re balding before me.”

And you wanted so desperately to wipe that smirk off his face. “Push back your bangs right now.”

Touche. “You should really eat your food before I spit in it.”

You had the liberty of delving into Eddie Munson’s personally made lukewarm tomato soup, and a sandwich so untimely perfect, the burnt bread did little to match the cheese that surely did not melt. And yet, it did everything to fill that little hole in your heart, as one bite brought you back to the cozy trailer, where endless nights were spent concocting meals from ingredients that scientifically went together, but for some reason refused to work when Eddie touched them. 

He left you alone in the comfort of your bedroom that was once shared with him, as you quietly endured enjoyed your meal, and sat with the events that came about. Seeing Eddie had tumultuously screwed with your already bruised head, and set you back a mile on the path to peace. Where you blamed yourself over the rise of bubbling feelings, you also gave yourself the grace of remembering this man had been the love of your life for seven years. Facing him would be anything but peaceful, and yet, his stupid, round face managed to conjure that settling tranquility of deep contentment within your heart that only ever built under his hands of love and care. But he also managed to tear it, and that was something beyond the repairs of five months apart. No matter how brutal. Your pillow still stained with the tears of endless cries over the insecurities of no longer being good enough for him. But if you sniffed deep enough, his burrowed cologne would fume into your nose at night that allowed you to gain a safe sleep during the dark hours. 

How polarizing he could be was beyond the study of any scientist. 

Between the last slurp of your soup, your eyes succumbed to the heaviness of your eyelids, as what was intended to be a half an hour nap prolonged into a five hour doze, until the sun decided to rest for the evening, bleeding its red into a darkening sky. As advised by your doctor, a couple pills were to be popped to alleviate that ache that would haunt you for days to come, so with a march to the kitchen ahead, you called for the man you needed most. “Eddie!” Drowned by your tiredness, your voice did little to amplify his name from the second floor. “Eddie!” But a second call of his name proved to be useless when nothing followed in return.

Dr. Rosenthal surely hadn’t been lying about the aftermath of dizziness, as the simple event of walking down your staircase had turned into an olympic sport that nearly caused another blow to your head if it hadn’t been for the obscene tightness of your grip on the railing that descended. “Eddie, seriously! I’ve been calling you, can’t you hear?!”

The quietness of your home answered back, as you approached the bottom steps of the stairs, where suddenly soft lights straightened the blurred lines of your eyes to the clarity of a beautiful glow. Warm lanterns and sticks of candles kindled your chimney and center table, where red bows of various sizes decorated themselves along your living room to match the ribbon of your Christmas tree that had not been put up prior to your waking. Sweet scents of cinnamon and pines worked magically to calm the agitated nerves of your head, and your eyes dragged in awe to the breathtaking display of green garlands that dressed your home to the Christmas perfection you always dreamed of. 

Your eyes watered, and though you knew he wouldn’t answer, you still quietly spoke. “Eddie?”

So simple, yet so fulfilling, your heart soared at the work of his hands that ached for your happiness. While it did not amount to the pain he once dragged you through, a meaningful smile that hadn’t been flashed in months finally etched its place onto your face where it perfectly belonged.

And much to your dismay, but simultaneously your biggest hope… it was because of him. 

While it broke your spirit for his efforts to take so long to return, you smiled through your hurting cries, as you finally gained the wish for your Eddie—once lost, now running through the wooded path to be found—to return. And with it, a note to keep your heart content with the soundness of peace. Whether it be with Eddie. Whether it not be with Eddie. 

At the very least, you got your Christmas spirit. 

Management wants to bitch me out, I’m sorry I had to leave you :( but I’m gonna convince ‘em to let me stay in Indy for a while. Kinda hard to say no to a face like mine, you know? You know. Call me to make sure you’re okay, sweetheart, or I’ll break into your house! - Love, Eddie

P.S, gave Trevor his ladder back, so don’t speak to him :)

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader

[prozac]

December 27th, 2008 is the day Anik Pillai was left behind. Trying to find his family, he travels the East Coast with his new friends, avoiding the bloodthirsty monsters created by a world-ending virus. ⠀⠀⠀🌹

⠀⠀

⠀

🌹 Season 1: 5 months (Jan-May)

⠀Anik Pillai, separated from his sister, makes friendly with multiple people in the chaos of the collapse of society. In this chaos, Anik raises a little boy who was also separated from his family.

1. Destroy My Life | 2. Fueling | 3. More Tigers in Captivity than the Wild | 4. Avtomat Kalashnikova | 5. The Goliath | 6. Soup | 7. A Completely, Totally, Safe Place | 8. Distrust Him | 9. Theatrics | 10. Shape & Scissor

⠀

🌹 Season 2: 1 month (June)

⠀Anik and his friends try to escape the city before it is bombed by the remnants of the United States’ government.

1. Nirvana | 2. Is There Anyone Coming For Him? | 3. Raccoon Dye | 4. The Ever-Changing Menu | 5. Top Secret | 6. Hordes Form Hordes | 7. A Nice Walk in the Park | 8. Napalm | 9. Crossing Paths | 10. Down the Fifteen Stories

⠀

🌹 Season 3: 2 months (July-August)

⠀Still unable to find his sister & parents, Anik and friends meet a capable married couple, and head to a safe settlement called Wheatville.

1. The Pillai Residence | 2. Another New Acquaintence | 3. I Like Them Scrambled! | 4. Meatballs | 5. Childhood, Weddings, & Forgetfulness | 6. A Most Severe Evil | 7. The Barricade | 8. Wheatfields of Wheatville | 9. Be True, and They Will Follow | 10. He'll Be Leaving Here - With You.

⠀

🌹 Season 4: 1 month (September)

⠀The main group learn more about the state of society and science after the fall.

1. The Skin Boils Beneath, Holding Visions | 2. To Wish Impossible Things | 3. Lumbar Puncture | 4. Fever Dream | 5. Meatfillings | 6. Separation Anxiety | 7. Wise Serpent and Harmless Dove | 8. X | 9. Round and Round They Go | 10. The Doctorate of Otis Ross

⠀

🌹 Season 5: 3 months (October-December)

⠀The main group learn more about the virus that has made the world implode.

1. Bedridden | 2. Teeth Bared Raw | 3. Bullet Factory / Piece of Cake | 4. It Cycles | 5. Dogs Howling Out of Key | 6. Unused Grain Silo | 7. Mouse Maze | 8. Burning the Flag Wrapped Around Him | 9. Devil | 10. The Prophecy

⠀

🌹 Season 6: 1 year (January-December)

⠀Those who remain stay at the first major rebuilt faction: a settlement called Libertytown.

1. Money, Pennies | 2. Libertytown | 3. 'Doc | 4. Knights of the Walled Kingdom | 5. Two-Face | 6. In Between His Denial | 7. Cokehead | 8. His Garden | 9. IT WILL BE A MASSACRE | 10. The Promise

⠀

🌹 Season 7: 4 months (January-April)

⠀While the group is forcibly split, Anik and those with him travel to the city formerly known as Atlanta, which hosts another rebuilt faction: Center for Safety.

1. Desperation | 2. Guidance | 3. Red-Jacketed (Her) Killer | 4. Position of Power | 5. The Doctorate of Xavier Gray | 6. (Rabbit) | 7. Double / Stranded | 8. A Monster | 9. Can't You Hear Me Crying Out? | 10. The Payoff

⠀

🌹 Season 8: 1 yr (May-May)

⠀A period of rest. However, the surface of calm begins to bubble…

1. Third Day | 2. To:California | 3. Anju | 4. Seventh & Finger | 5. Hi. I Can Help. | 6. Shortages | 7. The Door's Left Wide Open | 8. Knights of the Walled Kingdom II | 9. Truth | 10. A Game of Chess

⠀

🌹 Season 9: 2 months (June-July)

⠀Anik learns more about the state of the world outside of the embrace of the powerful settlements.

1. Two-Face II | 2. Hanged Man | 3. To… Awesome! Village! | 4. Just One More | 5. Preacher | 6. Butcher | 7. Angel | 8. of Death | 9. You Think You’re Alone | 10. Letter Left Behind

⠀

⠀

🌹 Season 10: 1 month (August)

⠀THE MEAT FACTORY.

1. Gods Before Me | 2. Idols | 3. In Vain | 4. Sunday | 5. HONOR YOUR FATHER | 6. Murder | 7. Adultery | 8. Theft | 9. The False Witnesses | 10. Two-Face III

⠀

🌹 Season 11: 11 months (September-July)

⠀Anik is alone.

1. The Other Letter Left Behind | 2. Sixth, Seventh, Eighth, Ninth | 3. Pawned | 4. Meatrots | 5. His Fire | 6. New Creation of Man | 7. Don’t Jump the Line | 8. You Like Them Scrambled? | 9. Obituary For the Inner Self | 10. Knights of the Walled Kingdom III

⠀

🌹 Season 12: 6 months (August-January)

⠀Valentino King, hungry ruler of the Kingdom faction, strikes a deal with the mourning Anik Pillai. Anik takes that deal.

1. The King | 2. Golden Boy | 3. Family | 4. The Ballroom | 5. Obsession | 6. The Round Table | 7. I Promise | 8. Anik’s Life is Perfect | 9. Zero Shame | 10. The Kingdom

⠀

🌹 Season 13: 1 year 4 months (Feburary x2-June)

⠀With society on the coast all forming alliances, the new faction Home begins to become a place of respite.

1. Beginning of | 2. A Gentle Hand | 3. Anu | 4. Tiger in a Tight Enclosure | 5. The Dependent | 6. Blue / Pink | 7. No-One Hears Me Crying Out | 8. Up All Night | 9. I shall… | 10. Home.

⠀

🌹 Season 14: ~3 days (July)

The war begins to end.

1. RUN, RABBIT! | 2. Brim | 3. A Growing Boy Needs | 4. Drink Your Blood for the Taste | 5. 7 Seconds | 6. Here, or There | 7. Salvation | 8. Play Witness | 9. Luck | 10. (KNIFE)

⠀

🌹 Season 15: 6 months (July-December)

⠀Anik Pillai finishes what was started.

1. Dawn of the Rest of Your Life | 2. His Great Desire | 3. Queened | 4. Oh, Stranger | 5. Rebirth | 6. Too Late to Truly Mean Anything | 7. Amma | 8. To: Die Easy | 9. Like Father | 10. And All That I Loved

⠀

⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 🥀

#DAIL #DAIL Summaries #❤️💚💙🧡

[rewildling]

LADYHAWKE: The 80s Fantasy Movie that Inspired SanSan?

Could this movie have partially inspired GRRM’s Sansa Stark and Sandor Clegane as a romantic pairing in ASOIAF? And could it contain clues for their TWOW arcs? Let’s investigate.

Isabeau of Anjou and Etienne of Navarre from Ladyhawke (1985)

Ladyhawke (1985) is apparently one of GRRM’s favorite films. According to him, it’s “romantic fantasy done right,” so it’s definitely possible that it influenced the romantic plot lines in his own fantasy series.

The movie tells the story of cursed lovers Etienne of Navarre and Isabeau of Anjou. They are always together, yet eternally apart. By day, Isabeau takes the form of a bird, turning back into a woman at night.

“You’re like one of those birds from the Summer Isles, aren’t you? A pretty little talking bird, repeating all the pretty little words they taught you to recite.” Sandor Clegane, Sansa II, AGOT

By night, Navarre takes the form of a large black wolf, turning back into a man during the day.

The Hound ripped the sword free and threw away the scabbard. The Mad Huntsman gave him his oaken shield, all studded with iron and painted yellow, the three black dogs of Clegane emblazoned upon it. Arya VI, ASOS

Navarre is the former Captain of the Guard of Aquila, a formidable fighter and deadly with a sword.

The White Book was well behind. The deaths of Ser Mandon Moore and Ser Preston Greenfield needed to be entered, and the brief bloody Kingsguard service of Sandor Clegane as well. Jaime XIII, ASOS

The Hound was deadly with a sword, everyone knew that. Arya VI, ASOS

Like Sandor, Navarre is a generally cynical person and is pessimistic about the possibility of ever breaking the curse. He also rides a temperamental black stallion named Goliath.

Arya had tried to steal him once, when Clegane was taking a piss against a tree, thinking she could ride off before he could catch her. Stranger had almost bitten her face off. He was gentle as an old gelding with his master, but otherwise he had a temper as black as he was. She had never known a horse so quick to bite or kick. Arya XI, ASOS

At one point in the film, Navarre asks Matthew Broderick’s character, Phillipe, to tell him everything Isabeau said about him the night before:

“Every moment you spend with her… I envy you. But you can tell me. Tell me everything that she said. And I warn you, I will know if the words are hers. Etienne of Navarre, Ladyhawke

“A dog can smell a lie, you know.” Sandor Clegane, Sansa II, ACOK

Like Sansa, Isabeau is described by others as being exceptionally beautiful, with porcelain skin, blue eyes, and a lovely voice.

“Men would say she had my look, but she will grow into a woman far more beautiful than I ever was, you can see that.” Catelyn VII, ACOK

She is just as comely as the Tyrell girl. Her hair was a rich autumn auburn, her eyes a deep Tully blue. Tyrion VIII, ASOS

“We were talking about the prince,” Sansa said, her voice soft as a kiss. Arya I, AGOT

Isabeau is also kind, clever, and brave. As the Comte d’Anjou’s daughter, her manners are noticeably refined.

Be brave, she told herself. Be brave, like a lady in a song. Sansa V, ASOS

"Knights they are," said Petyr. "Their gallantry has yet to be demonstrated, but we may hope. Allow me to present Ser Byron, Ser Morgarth, and Ser Shadrich. Sers, the Lady Alayne, my natural and very clever daughter..." Alayne II, AFFC

For this next part, let’s keep in mind the theory that Shadrich, Morgarth, and Byron — the three hedge knights who appear at the Gates of the Moon in Littlefinger’s service in AFFC — are actually Howland Reed, the Elder Brother, and Sandor Clegane in disguise.

Phillipe is known as The Mouse. He’s small and stealthy — the first person ever to escape from Aquila’s prison. He’s also very cheeky. At first, he wants to get as far away from Aquila as possible. After he becomes invested in Navarre and Isabeau’s story, he decides to help them infiltrate Aquila and confront the man who cursed them.

Ser Shadrich was a wiry, fox-faced man with a sharp nose and a shock of orange hair, mounted on a rangy chestnut courser. Though he could not have been more than five foot two, he had a cocksure manner. ... “Ser Shadrich of the Shady Glen. Some call me the Mad Mouse.” ... “And are you mad?” “Oh, quite. Your common mouse will run from blood and battle. The mad mouse seeks them out.” Brienne I, AFFC

When Isabeau is wounded, Navarre orders Phillipe to bring her to Imperius, a solitary monk and healer, who saves her life and, along with Phillipe, helps the lovers break their curse.

“The Seven have blessed our Elder Brother with healing hands. He has restored many a man to health that even the maesters could not cure, and many a woman too.” Brother Narbert, Brienne VI, AFFC

The man who cursed them is the Bishop of Aquila, an older man who covets Isabeau and became enraged when she rejected him. The Bishop is portrayed as a greedy, deceitful lord who uses his power to manipulate and exploit people. Imperius describes his desire for Isabeau as “a sort of madness.” Sound like anyone we know?

“Your mother was my queen of beauty once,” the man said quietly. His breath smelled of mint. “You have her hair.” His fingers brushed against her cheek as he stroked one auburn lock. Quite abruptly he turned and walked away. Sansa II, AGOT

Imperius tells Phillipe that Isabeau sensed the Bishop’s wickedness and “shrank from him.” She fell in love with Navarre, and they married in secret.

When Sansa finally looked up, a man was standing over her, staring. He was short, with a pointed beard and a silver streak in his hair, almost as old as her father. “You must be one of her daughters,” he said to her. He had grey-green eyes that did not smile when his mouth did. “You have the Tully look.” “I’m Sansa Stark,” she said, ill at ease. Sansa II, AGOT

“I despise porridge.” He looked at her with Littlefinger’s eyes. “I’d sooner break my fast with a kiss.” A true daughter would not refuse her sire a kiss, so Alayne went to him and kissed him, a quick dry peck upon the cheek, and just as quickly stepped away. Alayne I, AFFC

The parallels between this film and ASOIAF are pretty obvious. Isabeau is a bird, and Navarre is a black wolf — an obvious connection to House Stark — but he could just have easily been a black dog.

All three character’s proposed as the true identities of the three hedge knights in Shadrich, Morgarth, and Byron have parallels in this film. Phillipe the Mouse, Imperius the monk, and Navarre the wolf infiltrate Aquila to confront the Bishop and free Isabeau the bird from his curse. If the theory proves true, Shadrich the Mad Mouse (Howland Reed), Morgarth (the Elder Brother), and Byron (Sandor Clegane/the Hound) are working together to infiltrate the Gates of the Moon and help free Sansa (the little bird) from Littlefinger’s clutches. The broad strokes of the characters and their potential future storylines in TWOW are all present.

Ladyhawke is decently acted, and the story itself is beautiful and interesting. But GRRM is right, the score is terrible.

7.5/10

#sansan saturdays #sansan summer #get her a dog #sansan meta #sansan #asoiaf meta #asoiaf #sansa stark #sandor clegane

[hawkzeyes]

hey i'm so sorry i know you've linked to it probably a million times but i can't find it: can i have the link to your hawkeye reading list pleaseee and thank you 🥳

Hi Hi!! Please never apologize for asking I have the most unorganized blog in all hawkeye accounts LMFAOOO so not being able to find recs in here is understandable

Im assuming you mean Clint, but just in case not I will add Kate's in at the end!

So First of course is this icon's first appearance in

Tales of Suspense #57 (1964) - (he also shows up a few more times in tales of suspense but obviously this is the most important one!)

The Avengers #16 (1965) is when he joins and becomes our favorite little Avenging Archer (forewarning he is a little shit here. His favroite pass time in the beginning is driving Steve up a wall. I personally find this dynamic very funny but some dont)

He is with the Avengers for a really long time. Like more than 150+ comics(he isn't Hawkeye the whole time though as he does have a little bit I believe that starts in Avengers #63-#98 where he is Goliath. He comes back to us as Hawkeye in Avenger #99)

Hawkeye (1983) is his first solo ever! It's a mini series but its one of my personal favroites!

West Coast Avengers (1984)- this is where we get to see him take lead in a brand new team in California!

The West Coast Avengers (1985)- this is just a contitnuation of the previous mentioned!

Solo Avengers (1987)- We find out more tea about Clint's life prior to avenging here

He stays with the West Coast Avengers for a hot minute before we get his second solo

Hawkeye (1994) he's reaaaaal tough guy big feelings in this one

then he shows up in Avengers again in 1995 (yeah I know but hey he is the avenging archer so that's where youre gonna find him the most) He even gets a new lil fit and everything (he looks like he belongs in a boyband and I love it)

Thunderbolts (1998) is where Clint shows up ( in 2001 I believe) and takes over the team! He essentially helps try to guide them into being a good hero team and if I remember correctly I think its either #74-#75 where he leaves the Thunderbolts (I can't remember exactly I'm sorry)

Hawkeye (2003)- a third solo!!! look at our little guy go!!!

Then he... well he dies LMFAOOO in Avengers (2004) and the Clint Barton you knew and love is about to change forever

The New Avengers #26 (2006) if i remember correctly and it's.. well it's a sad one and he isn't the lovely Hawkeye when he comes back either. This is where Clint becomes Ronin, which is a rather dark time for Clint.

Secret Invasion (2008) This is also sad im sorry LMFAOOO Clint's morals are tested often as Ronin

The New Avengers (2009) Again he is ronin here so if youre looking for Clint just as Hawkeye he isn't here but don't worry he is back as Hawkeye soon enough

New Avengers: The Reunion (2009) whooooo's he getting a reunon with ;)

Hawkeye & Mockingbird (2010) guess what, that's who he got a reunion with I LOVE THIS COMIC

Widowmaker (2010) is basically a continue on of ^ with Nat involved

Avengers: Solo (2011) CLINT!!!! AS!!! HAWKEYE!!! Doin Hawkeye shit

Hawkeye: Blindspot (2011) do you like family angst? Good. Here. Have the family angst.

There is an event going on around this time called Fear Itself that he is involved in and also he is in Secret Avengers (2012) starting #21 or #22 where he becomes the leader.

Hawkeye (2012) We all know and love this bad boy. You could fit so many tears into it.

Secret Avengers (2013) again??? yes again.

Secret Avengers (2014) haha yeah again

Hawkeye Vs Deadpool (2014) it's fun! it's cute! Wade makes me laugh and he has a soft spot for the Hawkeyes

All-New Hawkeye (2015) there is some retconning done here

I don't wanna talk about Civil War II (2016) it makes me really sad LMFAOOO but yes he is in it and it should be read because well.. he makes a BIGGGGGG choice here that I feel has def echoed in his characterization since and has caused lots of misleading beliefs about Clint

Occupy Avengers (2016) Woooooooh I like this one it's fun

Secret Empire (2017) He is in it if I remember correctly but I grouch about this whole concept because I thought it was stupid. It gives the same energy as "What if Superman was evil" and I'm sure as a DC fan you know how annoying that concept is.

Generations: Hawkeye(2017) This is soooo cute I love this one. Kate meets a younger Clint in it and they run around together

Tales of Suspense #101 (2018) This will never not make me laugh. Him and Bucky working together is always funny

He is also involved in Kate's Hawkeye run during this time but I've got that on her list

West Coast Avengers (2018) I liked this. I love when Kate and Clint work together and I liked seeing the nods to the original WCA

Hawkeye: Freefall (2020) crying puking throwing up it's so good and fun until it's not fun anymore

Black Widow (2020) Not my favroite run for Nat... feels like the tone is off but he is in it

Thunderbolts (2022) I liked this...would have been super cool if Marvel had kept it as a continuing run because I feel like it didn't get to finish it's story. I'm still sour about it.

NOW obviously this is not everything ever he has ever been in and I'm certainly not perfect enough to have read every. single. appearance. So please forgive me if I missed something important cause sometimes my brain is not so greeat with memory.

x Kate Reading List!

#clint barton #hawkeye #reading list #clint beloved

[elijones94]

🐘 “…Goliath I was a mammoth tusker, the biggest elephant in all the jungle! And in elephant society, the bigger you are, the better you are.” 🌴🐘

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=Thyp22c-bVk&pp=ygUPZ29saWF0aCBpaSAxOTYw

#Goliath I #Goliath II #Disney fanart #late night drawing #character study #elephant #Disney shorts #short cartoon #Disney short cartoons #xerox #xeroxgraphy animation #60s cartoons #1960 cartoons #Bill Peet #Wolfgang Reitherman #John Lounsbery #Sterling Holloway #Paul Frees #Walt Disney #jungle #a very small elephant #the biggest elephant in all the jungle #a story about an elephant #The Jungle Book #Dumbo #xerox process of animation

[baambastic]

Am I missing anyone?

Bruce Wayne: Batman

Alfred Pennyworth: Penny One

Dick Grayson: Robin I, Nightwing, Discowing, Batman

Jason Todd-Wayne: Robin II, Red Hood

Barbara Gordon: Batgirl, Oracle

Tim Drake-Wayne: Robin III, Drake, Mister Sarcastic, Red Robin, Batman, Batman Beyond

Cassandra Cain/Wayne: Black Bat, Batgirl, Orphan

Stephanie Brown: Spoiler, Robin IV, Batgirl

Damian al Ghul-Wayne: Robin V

Duke Thomas: The Signal

Harper Row: Bluebird

Cullen Row: N/A

Luke Fox: Batwing

Carrie Kelly: Robin III (Alt.)

Kate Kane: Batwoman

Bette Kane: Flamebird

Julia Pennyworth: Penny Two

Selina Kyle: Catwoman

Helena Bertinelli/Wayne: Huntress

Charlotte Gage-Radcliffe: Misfit

Terry McGinnis: Batman Beyond

Matt McGinnis: Robin Beyond

Ace: Bat-Hound

Titus, Jerry, Goliath, Bat-Cow, Cat Alfred: Damian’s Pets

Jean-Paul Valley: Azrael

Lucius Fox: N/A

Tamara Fox: “Foxy Lady”

Tiffany Fox: Batgirl

Jace Fox: Batman

Jim Gordon: Commissioner Gordon

Claire Clover: Gotham Girl

Hank Clover: Gotham

Basil Karlo: Clayface

Minhkhoa Khan: Ghost-Maker

Talia al Ghul: The Demon’s Daughter

Harleen Quinzel: Harley Quinn

Kirk Langstrom: Man-Bat

Mia “Maps” Mizoguchi: “Robin” VI

#batfamily #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #dick grayson #jason todd #barbara gordon #tim drake #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #damian wayne #duke thomas #harper row #cullen row #luke fox #carrie kelly #kate kane #bette kane #julia pennyworth #selina kyle #helena bertinelli #helena wayne #charlotte gage-radcliffe #terry mcginnis #matt mcginnis #ace the bathound #bat-cow #jerry the turkey #titus #Low on tags: cat alfred. jean-paul valley. lucius tamara tiffany jace fox. jim gordon. claire clover. hank clover. basil karlo. #goliath. minhkhoa khan. talia al ghul. harley quinn. kirk langstrom. maps mizoguchi.

[germanysnexttopgedicht]

Deutschland, ein Kindermärchen

geschrieben auf einer Deutschlandreise im Heine-Jahr 1956

I

Nach siebzehn Jahren in “USA”

Ergriff mich das Reisefieber.

Am letzten Abend des Jahres wars,

Da fuhr ich nach Deutschland hinüber.

Es winkten die Freunde noch lange am Pier.

Die einen, besorgt und beklommen.

Doch andere wären, so schien es mir,

Am liebsten gleich mitgekommen.

Dezemberlich kühl sank- ein Dollar aus Gold-

Die Sonne am Strand von Manhattan.

Und was greifbar im Lichte des Tages mir schien,

Entschwebte in Silhouetten…

-O, Deutschland, du meiner Jugend Land,

Wie werd ich dich wiederfinden?

Mir bangts ein wenig. Schon sah man New York

Und die Freiheits-Statue schwinden…

*

Es schwankten die bunten Laternen an Bord,

Vom B-Deck erscholl ein Orchester.

-Ich schwänzte das “Festliche Gala-Souper”

Und hatte mein eignes “Sylvester”…

Ich grüßte dies recht bedeutsame Jahr

Mit bestem französischen Weine.

Vor einem Jahrzehnt starb das “tausendste Jahr”,

Und vor einem Jahrhundert– starb Heine!

II

Es hat wohl seither kein deutscher Poet

So frei von der Freiheit geschrieben.

Wo das Blümlein “Freiheit” im Treibhaus gedeiht,

Wird das Treiben ihm ausgetrieben…

Er liebte die Heimat, die Liebe, das Leid,

Den Geist und die feine Nüance,

Und war nur ein Deutscher. EIn Deutscher, kein “Boche”.

-Es lebe “la petite différence”!

Satiriker, Lyriker und Patriot

Sans Eichenlaub und Schwerter,

Ein Rebell sans peur et sans reproche,

Ein Horaz, Aristophanes, Werther,

Aus Simons Stamme, von Davids Geschlecht,

Worob die Philister ihn höhnten;

Denn er spießte den spießigen Goliath

Auf haarfein geschliffene Pointen.

III

Wie Heinrich Heine zu seiner Zeit

War auch ich in der Fremde oft einsam.

(Auch, daß mein Verleger in Hamburg sitzt,

Hab ich mit dem Autor gemeinsam.)

Der Lump sei bescheiden: Ich sag es mit Stolz,

Daß von Urvater Heine ich stamme,

Wie Tucholsky und Mann, Giraudoux und Verlaine-

Wir lieben das Licht und die Flamme!

…Auch ich bin “ein deutscher Dichter,

Bekannt im deutschen Land”,

Und nennt man die zweitbesten Namrn,

So wird auch der meine genannt.

Auch meine Lieder, sie waren einst

Im Munde des Volkes lebendig.

Doch wurden das Lied und der Sänger verbannt.

-Warn beide nicht “bodenständig”.

Ich sang einst im preußischen Dichterwald,

Abteilung für Großstadtlerchen.

Es war einmal.- Ja, so beginnt

Wohl manches Kindermärchen.

IV

“… Da kam der böse Wolf und fraß

Rotkäppchen.” - Weil sie nicht arisch.

Es heißt: die Wölfe im deutschen Wald

Sind neuerdings streng vegetarisch.

Jeder Sturmbandführer ein Pazifist,

So lautet das liebliche Märchen,

Und wieder leben Jud und Christ

Wie Turteltaubenpärchen.

Man feiert den Dichter der “Loreley”.

Sein Name wird langsam vertrauter.

Im Lesebuch steht “Heinrich Heine” sogar,

-Nicht: “unbekannter Autor”.

Zwar gibts die Gesamtausgabe nicht mehr,

Auch zum Denkmal scheints nirgends zu reichen.

Man vermittelt den Dichter in Miniatur

- Vermittelt Postwertzeichen.

(Was die Marke dem Spottvogel Heine wohl

Für ein leckeres Thema böte…!

Ja, der Deutsche, er kennt seine Klassiker nicht,

Das Zitat aus dem Götz stammt von Goethe.)

Wie gesagt, es soll ein erfrischender Wind

In neudeutschen Landen wehen.

Und wenn sie nicht gestorben sind…

-Das mußte ich unbedingt sehen!

-Mascha Kaléko

#mascha kaleko

[tragedy-peanut-gallery]

Daeron ii’s family playing D&D cause I’m very bored and have too much time on my hands

(These are my silly hours so I wanted to write something a little whimsical that probably breaks canon. Idc ☺️💖)

Daeron: The Dm, uses all the old school dice and handbooks from when he and Elaena played as kids. All their preset character sheets got burned by Baelor so he spends way too much time helping everyone with their characters. Gets a little too railroad-y sometimes but makes up for it with a good story and funny voices

Myriah: Doesn’t play, but sometimes checks in to ask the kids if they “won” yet. Will occasionally do the voice of a patron or deity if she gets pestered enough

Baelor: Human oath of vengeance paladin 10000000%. Originally chose the class because he thought smite was cool but kept accidentally breaking his oath even if he was technically doing something good. He’s kinda bad at roleplaying but tries to steer everyone to make the right decisions

Aerys: High elf divination wizard. Probably spent two hours hogging all the source books in order to optimize his character to be the best spellcaster there ever was. Loves asking about every minute detail in any new room which annoys everyone- but! On the bright side, he is the best at solving every puzzle the party faces

Rhaegel: Dragonborn drakewarden ranger. Only made the character so he could be a dragon with a dragon friend, but doesn’t really roleplay or keep track of combat. Spends most of the games stacking everyone’s dice into towers, but starts paying attention when he’s finally allowed to fly his drake friend around

Maekar: Goliath beserker barbarian. When he was asked what sort of character he wanted to play he just said he “wanted to hit things really hard”. Doesn’t pay attention to roleplay at all but becomes an absolute beast in combat, the group’s master strategizer at age 6. Has probably accidentally killed a party member once (*cough* Baelor *cough*)

Daenerys: Half elf light domain cleric. Has a 10 page backstory written about her character and will take any opportunity to talk about it. Claims to prefer roleplaying and just being support but has probably dealt the most amount of damage in the party so far and has a consistent pattern of advocating for fights because it levels them up faster

+Bonus!

Shiera: Tiefling college of spirits bard. Originally wanted to play warlock but was mad about the limited spell slots so saves her evil backstory for another character. Most comitted roleplayer at the table, manages to talk the party’s way out of most of the fights Maekar and Daenerys gets them into, even though she’s like- 5, so most of her convincing ends up being “no, that’s mean >:(“

Brynden: Tiefling arcane trickster rogue. Unironically the edgiest character to be made, consistently brooding in the corner of every tavern they go into. Everyone thinks he might be a potential traitor but ends up being the biggest ride or die in the party and probably dramatically sacrifices himself to save them (Daeron writes him as actually escaping because he felt bad lol)

Daemon: Fallen aasimar oathbreaker paladin. Gives Daeron a minor aneurism when he asks if he can betray the party at some point. Otherwise a really well rounded character who only dabbles in the edginess, and puts up with everyone’s shenanigans enough to justify his ascension as the game’s bbeg

Aegor: Hates D&D. Banned from the table for calling everyone a bunch of nerds

#daeron ii targaryen #myriah martell #baelor breakspear #aerys i targaryen #rhaegel targaryen #maekar targaryen #daenerys of dorne #shiera seastar #brynden rivers #daemon blackfyre #aegor rivers #sorry aegor fans y’all are getting crumbs here 😭

[tinygiantplasticmonsters]

Kitbashed some frostgrave soldiers II and Barbarians II with some warlord project Z and assorted other bits into a goliath gang and some spares.

This time: the back half the group, and the whole gang together

#miniature painting #mini painting #wargaming #necromunda