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#i will show proof later
mikesbasementbeets · 1 month
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it’s a little frustrating sometimes to watch people try to “debunk” gay mike evidence by quibbling over things that are. kind of beside the point? like arguing that mike’s consistently negative (or even neutral, if you want the benefit of the doubt) reactions to girls aren’t “disgust” therefore they don’t mean anything. but like 1. yeah i agree, cates gate isn’t about mike being “disgusted.” mike’s face when el kisses him isn’t “disgusted.” mike’s reaction to el, to max, to girls in general doesn’t really read to me as “disgust” either. so 2. what DOES it read to you as? incredulity? confusion? discomfort? those…. still aren’t positive reactions.
the point is that mike actively and blatantly Does Not react positively toward el kissing him. and he also Doesn’t react positively to dustin’s description of a girl being “hotter than phoebe cates.” he asks “is she cute?” with maybe preemptive incredulity (in line with will's question "girls go to science camp?") over a girl who goes to science camp being cute, or perhaps just a neutrally curious state over dustin's new girlfriend, but then dustin doesn’t say “she’s hotter than phoebe cates.” he says, “think phoebe cates. only hotter.” that’s a prescriptive statement. you want to know if she’s cute, mike? think about phoebe cates, and then imagine someone hotter than that. and mike’s expression doesn’t improve in the slightest. think about someone hotter than phoebe cates, dustin tells mike. and mike? remains confused and entirely unintrigued. no, he’s not disgusted, but the point is not his negative reaction, it’s a complete lack of any sort of positive reaction. if he’s listening to dustin, he should have, in that moment, thought of phoebe cates. and his reaction?
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nothing.
(but. this is also just to say... i don’t even think it's fair to call most of mike’s facial reactions “proof” of his sexuality in any argument… i think they’re fun little easter eggs that add an extra visual element to his gay characterization. but. it’s not WHY people think he’s gay. it's funny to point out BECAUSE he's gay)
[edit: AND this is not even to mention the direct line drawn to this in season four via stobin's discussion of fast times, linking phoebe cates to 'people who like boobies.' #notmikewheeler]
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momentomori24 · 2 months
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Since Val is the only Vee that hasn't gotten his own song yet, him getting one in season 2 is very important to me. I don't know what kinda song he'd even have or what tone would scream Valentino the most, but mulling the thought over while listening to "Get Hooked" repeatedly I randomly had the thought: What if we get that song in the show, but instead of being sung by a paranoid dj with a really hot voice and punchable pimp charisma we just get a full course meal of the beauty that was his dorky singing during his duet with Vox? It's never going to happen, but man would I love to have Latino Valentino busting out those sleazy, sordid lyrics in all his dorky, unfortunately very babygirl glory.
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mariocki · 6 months
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A young Roger Delgado works to expose an otherworldly conspiracy, as newspaper columnist Hugh Conrad in Quatermass II: The Coming (1.4, BBC, 1955)
#fave spotting#roger delgado#the master#quatermass#doctor who#classic doctor who#delgado!master#quatermass ii#quatermass 2#images are rough i know‚ but that reflects the quality of the material to a degree#that we have complete copies of Quatermass II is a small miracle and to be celebrated#but as a bbc series from 1955 it is understandably in rather poor form as regards picture and sound quality#at least compared to contemporaneous shows from itc or america (largely shot on film)#anyway. what a delight to see young Rog! he's only in this one episode (although he can be seen briefly in the recap at the start of ep 5#and thus sometimes is credited with both) but he's playing a great character‚ a fleet street wonder that Quatermass brings in to try#and spread word about the conspiracy at the heart of the series. it allows Rog to play quite a different figure to the villains and foreign#dignitaries that became his stock in trade later on; he's a wily‚ astute but sceptical figure‚ who wants proof of Quatermass' claims and as#such is exposed to the alien horrors at work (allowing SPOILER for some very good 'battling possession' acting that leads into a truly#great cliffhanger). the serial almost feels like it has a guest of the week‚ with a significant character turning up for one ep only in#most installments‚ including Rupert Davies in the previous episode‚ but i think it's just the way the serial was formatted (and it's not#like Delgado or even Davies were particularly well known actors at this point in their careers)#still it's been fun to revisit. highly recommended for fans of dark and doomy sci fi horror
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fictionadventurer · 11 months
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People will often say, 'If you could be with Lincoln for dinner, what would you want to ask him? What would be the unanswered question?' And I know I should be asking him, 'OK, suppose you had not been killed, how would you have dealt with the South? How would you have dealt with Reconstruction and all the controversies that arose?' But I know that if I really had him for dinner one night, I would simply ask him, 'Tell me a story, Mr. Lincoln.' Because then I would see him coming alive. He laughed so hard when he told one of his funny stories, his eyes would twinkle. And then I'd know that the Lincoln I knew -- who was somehow able in the worst days of the war to dispel the anxiety of his Cabinet members by his humor and his life-affirming sense of storytelling -- then I’d know I would have seen him alive.
-Doris Kearns Goodwin, Presidential Episode 16
This was where I had to stop the Lincoln episode at the end of my commute, and as I pulled into the parking lot I said to myself, "Wow, that's lovely." A little schmaltzy, perhaps, but I think it gets to the core of why people study history. Sure, there's the intellectual impulse to analyze and understand events with the benefit of hindsight, but deep down, the heart of historical study is a desire to connect with people. To bridge the gulf of time and space and get to know people despite the fact that they lived in a completely different century.
History's not just dry lists of dates and names and theories. It's people. It's personalities. It's quirks and memories and stories. It's knowing that a historical figure isn't just a face on a monument, or a source of information, but a guy who can tell really funny stories. And I wanted to share this quote because it really understands the humanity of history in a way I rarely see expressed.
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klausinamarink · 3 months
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One Kid Gone, Another Up and Vanished (part 14)
getting back to the grove of writing and updating this on a reg. And look at that - an update in 2024! (jesus where did time go)
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 next: Part 15 | ao3
After startling himself awake for the third time in a row, Jeff groans in defeat as he kicks the blankets off him and makes his quiet way downstairs. He pauses once at the front of his parents’ bedroom door, wondering if he could sneak in under their covers like he used to do when he was little. Instead, he listens to his dad’s soft snores for a bit before continuing on.
The kitchen is quiet. Usually, the liminal solace eases him. This time however, it makes Jeff hyper aware of every sound in the house. Any tap on the window and back door spikes his heartbeat up to eleven. The darkest corners where he can’t see manifest the faintest shapes of teeth. His mind is starting to convince him that the monster is hiding right behind the kitchen island.
He quickly flicks the light switch on and the shadows retreat to their abyssal homes. Jeff does a swift lap around the island, sighing in relief when he finds nothing.
Jeff goes over to sink and fills up a glass of water. He drinks, drinks, and drinks.
After his throat feels no longer dry, Jeff places the glass down, a finger tapping on the rim. He’s too worked up to go back to bed and sleep. Thank god it’s the weekend. He can’t imagine trying to trudge his way to class and lunch while every empty seat that should have Eddie in it continues to haunt him.
“Fuck.” Jeff huffs, rubbing the side of his temple. Because right. While he had just found out alternate dimensions with man-eating monsters exist, Eddie’s still incognito.
He just wanted to find his best friend. How did Jeff’s life come to this?
Another realization strikes him. If Eddie doesn’t come back, then what will happen to the Hellfire Club? Neither Jeff or the other members are as great at DM’ing as Eddie. There’s also no chance of someone else in the high school with the same skills to bother joining. Even if they did, it wouldn’t be the same with Eddie’s love for dramatics and methods of setting the scene to further engage them. A club without their leader wouldn’t last long even with the members still onboard.
Hellfire would be gutted out of Hawkins High. Every brick made of Eddie’s blood, sweat, and tears would be smashed into dust and swept into the dumpster. It would be like Eddie had never existed at all.
Jeff buries his face into his hands, leaning over the counter. He breathes in and out as slow as possible. He is not having this breakdown at whatever-o’clock at night-
The floorboards creak behind him. Jeff spins around, his hand about to throw the glass at the noise. He manages to stop himself at the last second when he sees it’s just his grandmother.
“Jeffery?” She squints at him, her accent more clear with her apparent sleepiness. “Why, why are you up? You should na koimásai, óchi?”
Jeff chuckles, wiping his eyes in case a few tears welled up. He walks over to her, gently holding her arms. “Kala, Gigi. I was just thirsty.”
His grandma studies his face briefly before she tutted, “Trouble sleeping. Óchi kala.” She waves him off as she starts heading over to the cabinets, the kettle already set to boil. “Tea would make you better.”
Jeff’s not sure if his grandma’s famous dandelion-honey tea will be enough to erase the shadowy monsters and existential dread from his mind. But hey, what not?
El wakes up to the sun. It’s nice and warm on her face. She sits up from the ground, keeping her head up to have the sun still shining on her. But a cold breeze hits her and the nice warmth is gone. She shivers, sinking her head further into her jacket.
The pretty blonde hair gets into her nose and mouth. She spits it out but now it sticks to her cheek.
El stands up and walks over to the large water, close to where she had slept. She looks down and sees the same Pretty Girl. Except that her eyes are puffy-red and her face is dirty.
El takes off the hair and Pretty Girl does the same. Now she looks just like Eleven. A monster. Papa’s failure.
El’s face twists, remembering how scared she was the night before when Mike and Lucas started yelling at each other before Mike hurt him. While they had all ran into Mike’s house after she Felt Will and Eddie, she had ran away from them.
She doesn’t want to hurt them anymore. Staying with them will bring Papa to them. Or turn Mike into someone like that boy Troy.
She still has the walkie radio in her hands. She hasn’t turned it on in case Mike starts calling her. But she hasn’t checked in with Will and Eddie either yet. She’s scared of hearing the monster again.
Something dark and hazy flashes in her mind. For a moment, she’s at the Room and someone - not Papa - leers down at her. Eleven, what have you done?
Somehow, it terrifies El to her entire body that she screams. The water parts away in a rush as if it’s scared of her too.
The first thing Nancy does after waking up is flicking her eyes to the bedside lamp. She expects it to turn on and off by itself like some sort of morning alarm. But nothing happens. Nancy shuffles over and twists the tiny knob to the side, but still nothing. Seems that the power is still out.
Nancy looks down at Jonathan. He’s still sleeping where he lies on the floor next to the bed, a thick duvet over him with his jacket as a pillow.
After the combination of the Poltergeist-esque communication with his brother (the reality of that situation is now hitting her wow) and the hectic post-blackout assistance (which involved many candles and hurried transport of food in the fridge), Jonathan had been drained enough that he had just dropped to the floor like a stone. Her mom had only allowed him to sleep in Nancy’s room because he literally couldn’t budge. 
Nancy watches him for a moment while his shoulders rises gently up and down. It gives her deja vu, bringing her back to that morning in Steve’s bedroom. 
Oh god, Steve. Nancy didn’t mean to say any of that to him. It was just supposed to be a way to convince him to leave so Steve wouldn’t see Jonathan and get the wrong idea. But she got too stressed by his questions that her emotions got the best of her. 
Now, after seeing Steve’s crestfallen expression, Nancy will know better than to hurt him again. 
She rolls over to her back and stares up at the ceiling. Her mind buzzes with the renewal of every emotion from the past twelve hours. Fear. Curiosity. Irritation. Regret. All of them fill up the new hole in her chest.
But none of it is enough to drown her worries for Barb.
Tears sting her eyes again. Nancy quickly rubs them away, not wanting to dissolve into a sobbing mess again. It hurts when she demands herself not to think about Barb for a minute. She needs to distract herself. Preferably something safe. Like, like-
Checking on Mike.
Nancy slips out of bed, tiptoeing past Jonathan and into the sunrise-lit hallway. Mike’s door is closed but she hears a faint rustling sound on the other side. When Nancy lightly knocks, it stops.
“Mike?” She calls, quiet enough to not wake up Holly or her parents.  
She hears her brother groaning. Nancy rolls her eyes and lets herself in, expecting Mike to yell at her as usual. Instead, she’s taken aback by his silence as he stuffs his backpack with something that looks like an extra set of clothes.
“Mike?” When he doesn’t look up at her, Nancy steps closer. Mike’s hunched over and the corner of his eyes look red. Either from last night’s craziness or his emotional outburst. Maybe both. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Totally not because I can’t find Will.” Mike snaps with a swift zip of his backpack. His tone sounds too tired for a twelve year old. And something his answer confuses Nancy. Can’t find Will?
She thinks about to last night when the flashing lights in her room expanded to the rest of the house. Nancy had been terrified and too focused on Jonathan holding her that she’d barely missed Mike’s frantic calls. At first, she thought he was calling for their parents, but then she had heard him shout out Will’s name. After all the lights blew out, Nancy had nearly forgotten it.
Now that she thinks about it, she wonders if Mike had also found a way to talk to Will too. That might explain the behaviour of him and his friends from the past few days.
“Hey, if there’s any-” But just as Nancy sits on the bed next to him, Mike hops off. That’s when she notices that he’s already changed out of his pyjamas. 
“Wait a second. Mike, where are you going?” 
Her brother stops at the door’s threshold. He turns around and says seriously, “I’ve become the fugitive of the state. Tell Mom I love her.” 
“Wh- Mike!” Nancy jumps up to her feet but Mike’s already dashing down to the stairs. Frankly, she’s too taken aback about the sudden scene of normalcy to chase after him. 
She groans in exasperation as she returns back to her bedroom. This time, Jonathan is awake, rubbing his eyes and asking, “Whatz th’ time?”
“Morning, that’s what we know.” Nancy drops back on her bed. Her hand coincidentally lands on her notebook, left alone on the corner. She picks it up and flips back to the pages where she had transcribed Jonathan’s conversation with Will and Munson.
J: Munson? How are you here? EM: TAKEN TOO. DEMOGORGON. SCARY MOTHERFUCKER.
(At that, Nancy couldn’t help but laugh. That’s one way to describe the monster she and Jeff had fled from.)
J: Okay, did the demogorgon took you too, Will? WB: YES. J: When? WB: BIKING BACK HOME EM: IT HIT MY VAN
“What should we do now?”
Nancy glances up. Jonathan’s still sitting, picking at the skin around his thumb, not looking at her. “I mean, we know Will’s somewhere that’s not really here and Eddie Munson’s with him. But something happened-” he gestures to the nonfunctional lights, “-and now we can’t talk to them and find out.”
Nancy bites her lip. She doesn’t like this either, but it would be laughable to go to the police. Because what would they really do, even if they somehow believe the story? Shoot the monster and bring those two boys back? Yeah, very unlikely.
Thumbing through the pages with last night’s conversation, Nancy tears them out of the notebook. She hands them over to Jonathan, who finally looks up and slowly takes them. “Your mom is probably the only person who knows what’s going on. Give those to her. She’ll believe us.”
“And then what?” Jonathan mutters, staring down at the pages. “Knowing my brother’s alive is not enough.” He pauses, “Does Munson’s parents know about him?”
Nancy blanks. She doesn’t know Eddie Munson that much, save for his habit of walking on lunch tables and shouting at the popular students. Nancy used to find it funny, but eventually it turned into background noise.
Shaking her head, she asks, “Don’t you know Munson better?”
Jonathan sighs, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling. “Just because we’re both freaks at school doesn’t mean I’m friends with him. I know nothing about Munson other than he lives in Forest Hills trailer park. I don’t think he even has parents.”
He pauses, turning his gaze back at Nancy, “Wait, what about the demo-monster? We know nothing about it.”
“We do.” Nancy gets up, walking over to her bookshelf. “I’ve only seen the monster for a minute, but even if it’s not from our world, it’s still an animal. A predator. If we can at least guess its strengths and weaknesses,” she pulls out her animal encyclopedia. She hasn’t touched it since eighth grade, but it should still do, “then we hunt it and kill it.”
Jonathan stares at her. “How?”
“We can get hunting equipment. That should work.”
“But will that guarantee getting Will and Munson out?”
Nancy doesn’t know how to answer that.
Jim wakes with a startled gasp and a hand clamping over his neck. The side of it still pangs with the needle suddenly stabbing through the skin. Catching his breath, he takes in his new surroundings. He’s back in his trailer, now sitting upright on the couch as the morning beams through the curtains. Which means that, in between now and his baffling discovery at the Hawkins Laboratory, Jim had somehow made it home and blacked out.
Motherfuckers.
Jim rushes out of the couch and starts tearing through every inch of his place. Cuts through the pillows. Breaks more plates than necessary in the cabinets. Digs through the trash. Ruffles his bedsheets. The whole shebang.
It’s while he starts unscrewing the bulbs of his lamps that a knocking bangs on the front door. Jim freezes for a second, a sheet of sweat and fear dousing him. His gun is lost somewhere in the mess. If that’s the Lab folks again with that Brenner man again-
“Chief! You coming out?”
Jim shakes out a relieved sigh. It’s Cahallan.
He eyes at the lamp, wondering if he could still check it. He decides to leave it for now. Let the Lab listen to him like they want.
Jim finds his gun and checks through the peephole. Then he pokes his head out, glaring at Cahallan.
“Whoa, Chief,” Cahallan starts but Jim cuts him off with a (hopefully) very relaxed, “What’s up?”
As Cahallan stares at him, Jim notices two other men behind him. He relaxes when he recognizes Powell - who’s looking down like the dead leaves around his shoes are the Niagara Falls - and Conrad Smith, another officer at the station.
Cahallan snaps out of his stupor, shaking his head. “Remember Barbara Holland? A couple of those rangers went out and got a eyewitness who said she hitchhiked with a trucker somewhere west. Guess she did ran away after all.”
Jim nods, but his mind is already split between completing his search of the house and the goddamn state getting their hands all over Hawkins.
“There’s something else too, Chief.”
Jim barely resists an impatient sigh, “What?”
The men look at each nervously before Cahallan takes a breath and quickly says, “Will Byers’ grave was desecrated last night.”
Jim almost falls over at that, but he catches himself at the last second. He doesn’t hide his shock and disbelief though. “I’m sorry, what?!”
“We got the call just around ten last night.” Smith takes the reins to explain, “The grave was dug down to his coffin and the robbers broke it open.”
Oh sweet Jesus.
How Jim hasn’t collapsed to the ground yet, he chalks it up to his sheer force of will and the way his hand still grips on the edge of his door. He sucks in a deep breath, “Please tell me the kid’s body isn’t violated.”
Cahallan winces again, “Yeah, uh, we don’t exactly know.” At Jim’s bewildered glare, he quickly backtracks, “When we came over, the graveyard was swarmed by the state guys! They told us this was their ‘point of interest’, whatever the hell that means other than we should stay out of their business.”
A cold sweat drips down Jim’s neck. This definitely sounds like a government coverup in the making. Not to mention that if Joyce catches a wind of what’s going on… Jim’s not sure if he should pray for the state rangers from their inevitable fates.
Then another cold thought strikes him. What if the Lab already bugged her house? And Wayne Munson’s?
“Okay.” Jim feigns casual interest and clicks his tongue. “Well, if the case is going to be resolved by the state, then so be it. Now scram.”
Before he shuts the door, he hears Powell calling out to him. He glares out again, “What?”
Powell shuffles from foot to foot before finally piping up, “Am I still fired after the Munson kid is found?”
Jim slams the door.
He stays long enough to hear their mutterings and crunching footsteps as they walk away. Then he stomps back over to the lamp, digging his hand inside the cover. Something plastic touches his fingers. Jim immediately curls around it and pulls it out, barely catching a small snap as he does.
He examines the device closely. It’s a small black object that looks like some Lego pieces glued together with a couple exposed wires on the side. Jim doesn’t think twice about opening the window and throwing the thing out as far as he could without pulling a muscle.
It’s the crick in his neck that wakes up Wayne first. He slowly sits up from his uncomfortable position and rubs a hard thumb on the knot. As he does, Wayne presses a palm over his eyes, taking in the room with bleary eyes.
The living room’s the same as last time. The lights Joyce had reattached to the wall were sprawled across the table to the wall above the couch. Part of the old bedsheet, the alphabet hastily painted in black, had somehow fallen on his lap. Joyce herself is also sleeping, now lying on the couch instead of her stiff seating position from the last time Wayne had checked.
It’s surprising that either of them had slept after their grave discovery (no pun intended), especially after a frantic but thorough washing of their dirt-covered hands and disposal of the shovels.
He reaches over, nudging Joyce by her arm. It takes a couple tries but she jolts awake.
“Oh god…” She yawns with a crack of her jaw. Then she peers over at Wayne. “Had they said anything yet?”
Wayne shakes his head, picking up a string and letting it go so it clacks against the cloth. “I’ve actually fell asleep too, so I might’ve missed it.”
Joyce stretches her arms over her head as she sits up. She clears her throat and calls out, “Good morning, Will! Morning to you, Eddie.”
Wayne watches every lightbulb but none of them flickers. Joyce gives out a huff of frustration before she glances back at Wayne. “Coffee?”
“Best way to start the morning.” Wayne smiles. Joyces returns it, though smaller and strained. But just as she stands up, there’s a sudden knock at the door.
They freeze. Wayne whirls his head back to Joyce. Her face is pale with fear. When she catches his eye, she mouths questioningly, “Police?”
Wayne really hopes it’s not.
We got out of the grave fast. We ran back to my truck fast and quiet. I drove us out without a hurry just several minutes later so the ‘keeper won’t question it.
..Actually, looking back at it, Wayne might’ve been an idiot.
The knocking comes again. Persistent, louder.
Wayne stands up slowly. Joyce grabs onto his arm. “What do I do?” She whispers. He can already see her hand twitching towards a nearby hammer.
“Answer it.” Wayne continues when Joyce gives him a baffled look, “Whoever it is, they probably won’t leave until you open the door. Might be the police. Might be Lonnie or somebody else.” His hands goes on her shoulders, squeezing them assuringly. “But the second they start bringing harm on you, I’ll break their teeth.”
Joyce nods, sucking in shaky breaths. She pats his hands, letting Wayne to drop them as she strides over to the knocking door. Joyce pauses to shoot another look at him. Wayne nods back. Go ahead.
She jerks her chin up with a defiant glare. Joyce calls out as she opens the door. “Alright, I’m here! No need t-”
Chief Hopper immediately steps inside, silencing her with a finger to his lips and a notepad aimed at her.
Wayne blinks. Well, he fears the police would come, but not in this kind of manner he’s seen before. “Chief?”
Hopper turns to him, holding his shushing gesture while shaking his notepad at Wayne. They’re written in black pen, large letters saying DON’T SAY ANYTHING!
“Hop-?” Joyce starts to speak, but Hopper shushes her again.
Wayne and Joyce soon stand at each other’s sides, watching in complete bewilderment and dismay as Hopper methodically turns the house inside out. After what feels like hours later, Hopper finishes his bizarre inspection as he nods at them.
“You’re good, Joyce.” Hopper sighs, dropping to the couch.
“Hopper, what the hell?!” Joyce throws her arms up, stomping over to him. “You come in here, tell me and Wayne to stay quiet, and you tear the rooms apart? At this point, I might as well move out!”
“I know, I’m sorry.” Hopper rubs his eyes wearily, “I just needed to make sure they didn’t bug you.”
At Joyce’s sound of confusion, Wayne steps in and asks, “‘They’?”
If he’s puzzled by Wayne’s presence, Hopper doesn’t show it. Instead, he answers simply, “The lab.”
“You’re losing us, Hop,” Joyce crosses her arms, “What lab?”
Hopper tells them. For the second time, Wayne thinks that he’s just hearing a ghost story. Only this time involving a reckless breaking and entry of the Hawkins Lab and discovering something in their lower floors that sounds more like a newfound gate to hell.
“It was glowing red?” Joyce interrupts. The horrified disbelief on her face probably matches with Wayne’s.
Hopper nods, “Yeah, from the inside.”
“Like my wall.” Joyce murmurs. Catching Wayne’s confused glance, she explains, “That night when I spoke to Will and he told me Eddie’s name? Something came out of my wall in the room and, well, I couldn’t see it probably but it glowed red and scared me out of my house.”
“Eddie’s name?” Now it’s Hopper looking confused.
Wayne blows out a soft breath, “We- well, Joyce here had spoken to her son. Turns out wherever he is, Eddie’s with him too.”
While Hopper processes that info, Joyce frowns at him, “Do you think that, because of whatever the Lab has in their basement, it’s why Will and Eddie are not here?”
“Not to mention the state taking over Eddie’s case.” Wayne remarks pointedly.
Hopper runs a hand down his face, muttering curses under his breath. “Yep.” He makes a short but bitter laugh, “Actually, I figured that they had to be covering for something when I tried to get to the morgue, but too many rangers were posted there.”
“Because Will’s body is fake.” Joyce says.
“Exact-” Hopper starts to nod before shooting his head towards Joyce. A sharp pang of panic shoots through Wayne as he whirls at her. Joyce immediately clamps a hand over her mouth but the damage is already done.
The silence loads into the living room like bullets in a gun chamber.
“Joyce.” Hopper says slowly with a careful tone. His hands are carefully outstretched and open. “Joyce, what did you just say?”
Joyce looks at Wayne with barely-hidden panic and apologies in her eyes. He just squeezes her hand comfortingly. It’s okay, I’m not mad, He hopes she understands his silent message.
She squeeze his hand back.
“Joyce, I promise you’re not saying anything incriminating. I just want to you repeat what you just said. Just as a friend.”
Screw it, let’s rip the Band-Aid off. If the Chief of Hawkins Police can handle sneaking into a government lab by himself, then what’s worse than grave robbing with good intentions?
Wayne clears his throat, getting Hopper’s attention on him, “We already know about Will’s grave because Joyce and I dug it up last night.”
He keeps his own head up as Hopper’s snap towards him with saucers for eyes.
Joyce drops her hand from her mouth and almost-yells, “But that’s to check on who they actually buried! And you know what we found, Hop? It was fake. They literally made up Will’s body out of plastic!”
“I accidentally kicked the head off.” Wayne adds with a casual shrug. Not the best attempt to have the atmosphere light again, but sue him, he’s trying. “Bless the almighty above that there was only cotton stuffings instead of blood coming out.”
Usually, he doesn’t like watching the light be drained out of people’s eyes in real time. But this time will an exception because it’s actually kind of funny seeing Hopper go into some sort of existential crisis on the spot.
“Please don’t report this, Hop.” Joyce claps her hands together in a prayer gesture. “At least don’t tell anyone Wayne and I did it.”
“Oh, don’t worry…” Hopper barely mutters, his gaze now blankly staring at the table as if the object had just sucked his soul out.
“Hop?” Joyce leans in as if to poke him, but Wayne gently stops her. Shaking his head lightly, he says, “How about we fix ourselves some breakfast? I don’t remember the last time I ate, to be honest.”
They both stand back up, leaving Hopper on the couch. Wayne notes Joyce’s carefully-steeled face and nudges her. “You’re allowed to laugh, you know.”
Joyce quickly shakes her head, but he can see a smile already cracking through her face while she rubs over her arms. In fact, she looks almost a tad too gleeful, “I’m glad that I got to actually say that out loud.”
Then her face falls again to the chronic worrying expression, “I just hope our boys are doing okay right now.”
When Will stirs awake, the first thing he feels is Eddie’s heart beating against his ear from where his head had at some point moved on top of Eddie’s chest. Relieved, Will keeps his eyes closed, ready to continue sleeping.
And then he hears the raspy breathing.
Will sits up so quickly that, for a second, his vision turns black around the edges. Even in the dark, he sees Eddie rapidly blinking up with glossy eyes.
“Eddie?” Will places his hand on Eddie’s forehead, only to immediately pull it back. His skin is so hot that it burns through all of Will’s fingers. Oh no.
Will moves so he’s kneeling right beside Eddie’s head, already carefully brushing his hair away from his sweating face just like how Mom does it whenever he gets sick. The older boy trembles violently, either from the touch or the fever, Will doesn’t know. He tries to remember what Mom had always said on those sick days, finally settling on the most important question - “Are you feeling okay?”
Eddie answers with a small gurgle before throwing up over his jeans.
-
Taglist: @unclewaynemunson @hellion-child @steves-strapcollection @sidekick-hero @penny00dreadful @hbyrde36 @mmmmwaffles94 @princessstevemunson @sirsnacksalot @tartarusknight @lyriclight @kodaik97 @plsdontdrinkmylavalamp @bookbinderbitch @gutterflower77 @soaringornithopter @angeldreamsoffanfic @panicatthediaz @renaissan-vvitch @manda-panda-monium @newtstabber @little-trash-ghost @niniel-karenine @tinyplanet95
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team-mavericks · 6 months
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A moment of weakness.
Morgan comes out of her room with some sketches she's been working on. She wasn't surprised to see Rin and Michael rough housing in the common living space. When she asked where Jet was, they paused the fight to answer he went to the roof and acting weird, and with a "Thank you" from Morgan they resumed fighting. Morgan opened the door to the room and immediately started talking. Jet was facing the horizon, away from the door Morgan just came from.
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"Jet, there you are. I've come up with another bike design. It's a cross fusion of your hover bike and-" Morgan stops mid sentence and sniffs the air. That's a familiar smell in a not so familiar place. "Hey, what smells like-"
It was then Morgan saw smoke come from Jet's face. There's a cigarette loosely being held between his fingers, the hand that held it hung low to his side.
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"JET!" Morgan rushed over and swiped the cigarette from him, Jet didn't even flinch. "What the hell are you doing?? You don't smoke!"
Jet didn't even respond. He's too focused on the horizon. Almost as if he's waiting for something.
Morgan's tone suddenly shifted. "Hey. What's gotten into you?"
It took a moment before Jet responded.
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"Gatz is in trouble, Makoto took Tamako to save him, and she didn't want me to go with her. And I'm... trying to be optimistic." He just dropped all this on Morgan, and of course that made more questions than before.
"What?" Is all Morgan was able to get out. She was still processing what was just said.
"Somewhere, Gatz is in so much trouble that someone had to call for help. They asked for Makoto specifically. I can't even remember the last time Gatz was in a bind, nevermind actual danger. Makoto's capable, but..." Jet's hand formed a tight fist and started shaking.
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"Why? Why didn't she want me to come with her? What if she gets hurt? Why didn't I just go with her anyway?? I'm such an idiot!"
Jet does get worried for his fellow Mavericks, but Morgan's never seen him get this upset before. He must actually be scared. Morgan puts her hand, still holding papers, on Jet's shoulder.
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"Hey. Do you think that maybe the reason she didn't want you to go is the same reason you wanted to go with her?" This made Jet turn to Morgan with a raised eyebrow. She continued. "You're over here worried for her safety because you don't want her to get hurt. What if she told you to stay behind because she also couldn't stand the idea of you getting hurt? You said it yourself, this is a GATZ level threat. She had to know the risk."
Jet huffed, looking back to the horizon. "You're probably right. I just don't see why we both couldn't take that chance."
Morgan moved her arm to Jet's opposite shoulder and leaned into him for a side hug. She looked off to the distance with him.
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"Gatz can be a cryptic bastard sometimes. He has connections we don't know about, even contingency plans for things we don't think of. For someone to call us about him, and ask for someone specific, it's probably more planned than we realize. Makoto is probably the perfect piece to the puzzle he needs, and the one who called knows it. Just have faith in her."
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Jet took a deep breath and nodded slowly at first only to grow more confidence in the nod. "I believe in her. I know she will come back. It's just hard in the moment."
"It really is." Morgan nodded and then looked at the hand holding the cigarette she snatched. "And the cigarette?"
"Mm. They're hers." He calmly admitted. "She doesn't smoke often, and she tries to hide it, but I've known about it for a long time. I thought maybe if I smoked her brand, some mysterious force of nature would grant her luck. Or at least she'd change her mind and call me."
Morgan shifted her frown a little. She then sighed and offered the cigarette back to Jet. "Then just this once. Don't go picking up bad habits like it's nothing, got it?"
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Jet took the cigarette back with a nod. This time, he took a drag not out of stress, but out of determination. She will return. She will be safe. And if she doesn't, he will fight the world if he has to just to bring her back. With an exhale, and a stronger resolve, Jet broke it in half. Another deep inhale, followed by a yell.
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"FUCK EM UP, MAKOTO! I BELIEVE IN YOU!"
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theramblingvoid · 4 months
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oc ask game: i cant do emojis but shiny rock for both
-mleem
🪨 Someone gifts your OC a shiny rock. What do they do with it?
Hallowrove: It's an odd gift, but they've recieved weirder from Rubbery friends and zailors with superstitious good-luck charms. If it seems meaningful to you in the giving, they'll keep it and cherish it, probably on a shelf in their upstairs office next to a few other gifts and assorted oddities and souvenirs from hunts. They don't tend to be sentimental about objects or decorations in general, but a good simple gift goes a long way.
Null: They will hoard it. And then realize that you are now a known source of shiny rocks, and immediately start figuring out how they might get more from you, all that you have, all that you might possibly be able to get. Your shiny rocks will line their mantel. You will know no peace. Every night they will pick them up one by one just to hold them, and feel their weight, and know that that weight is in the accumulation of what in the world is theirs. They might also swallow one eventually. You know how it is.
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aastarions · 9 months
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i get so viscerally angry when someone tells me im wrong about something i know im literally 100% right on
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terendelev · 7 months
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Tamsin/Enver knifeplay smut?? (with Orin's dagger)
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destiel-wings · 4 months
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how many drafts do you guys have? I have 231 💀
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piplupod · 4 months
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people defending their precious white man of the week and ignoring BIPOC pointing out his racism Yet Again. i'm so tired. i'm so tired. i'm so tired!!!!!!
#im literally shaking right now im so fucking mad#''he's not racist what are u talking about show me proof''#[one google later] oh wow i found all this proof with literally one attempt at googling. crazy. i wonder why u couldnt find that on ur own#and then they say ''no he said this thing so its fine :)'' i go look at the thing. it is white saviourism. again. as always#''he's keeping the culture alive :)'' he is twisting it beyond recognition actually. he just took it and ran with it.#and now he's trying to cover his ass!#and white ppl will just eat that shit up lmfao.#''wow what a mature response'' says his adoring audience and his response is literally just ''i can do what i want bc im white''#i will not get involved in the replies of a post. but man. i'm fucking livid. literally shaking right now.#im so fucking tired of anti-indigenous racism being brushed aside like it doesnt matter#yall just bulldozed us all over and then tried to wipe us out when we didnt respect yall and now you continue to fuck us over#and then get upset when we try to say we would like A FEW THINGS TO OURSELVES. INCREDIBLE#the white ''i need access to everything all the time no matter what'' attitude is SOOOO blatant#this isnt even going into his antisemitism lmfaoooo#literally a list a mile long and ppl still plug their ears and close their eyes and yell LALALALA IM NOT LISTENINGGGG#also here's your necessary ''not all white people''. i know. i'm aware. theres some good ones sure but they shouldnt need to be coddled#and reassured every time somebody complains about white people general behaviour. let me complain!!! its a pattern of behaviour!!#pippen needs 2nd breakfast
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On October 20th, 2013, the finale for “Aqua Tv Show Show”, titled “Spacecadeuce”, first aired on [adult swim]
Guest starred Francisco Guglioni as Oglethorpe’s father
Fun facts:
The title is an homage to the 2004 failed ATHF spin-off, “Spacecataz”
This is the only episode to not feature any of the Aqua Teens and/or Carl
The pixelated rescue crew The Mooninites send are rejected/concept Mooninite designs
This is the only episode to feature a new Plutonian; Oglethorpe’s dad
This is the season 10 finale
This was the last new Aqua Teen episode for about a year and a half, before the series would come back for their last season in the summer of 2015
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datastate · 1 year
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i’ve finished sirius’ conclusion (aka i’m up to date on all of witch’s heart now)
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kapreday · 1 year
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Signs I Might Be More Trans Than I Thought
Look, it took 4 years and putting off the gender question entirely for me to come to the unceremonious conclusion that my sexuality is bisexual and ace spectrum, and I’m finally coming around to dealing with the gender part.  I don’t know how y’all figure out gender, but I present my growing list of things beyond just the short haircut and neutral pronouns that have made me stop and say “wait... am I still more trans than I thought I was??” 
- realizing how uncomfortably focused on my breast development I was during puberty 
- especially not relating to the “I must increase my bust” chant in Are You There God It’s Me Margaret and fixating on the American Girl Body Book’s pictures of the stages of breast development 
- also one of those things that still has me going “am I still gayer than I thought??” 
- always wearing my hair in ponytails when it was long
- doing speech and debate for the suits 
- I was doing all the boys’ ties and could recognize men’s suit cuts by sight
- fuck if I knew anything about my own suit or women’s fashion though
- only having guy friends (leads to a very lonely puberty without a lot of friends if your parents think you wanna go make out instead of have a play date... which mine always did) 
- jealousy of my baby sister getting to wear boys clothes and not being pressured to wear girls clothes for formal events (she was always mistaken for a boy as a child but she’s happily cis now!) 
- also helps me realize it IS a phase and that's OKAY its OKAY for things to be phases and to change your mind but dang my mind is in one direction
- but i digress 
- my whole fashion sense was hoodies, and it’s still oversized shirts
- i’m so glad i didn’t develop breasts and am still uncomfortable with how much EVERYONE ELSE cares about my flat chest. what if i don’t want my tits to show through my top?? 
- oh realizing now that feeling when I wore padded bras or when you could see my nipples through my top as a kid is dysphoria ok
- BIG pregnancy phobia 
- BAND UNIFORMS 
- I feel comforted by the fact that most people don’t know what their actual chromosomal makeup is unless they get specifically tested - big love for intersex fam <3 
- did my whole 6th grade project on amphibians (the gays love frogs)
- did destiel make me trans?
- realizing that if i’m a guy i can still be a fruity and feminine one and that feels ok and not like failing masculinity
- i already feel like i’ve failed femininity... ooh yeah i used to get real aggro when anyone would call me a “lady” or “ladylike” 
- i think there are definitely feminine terms I’m ok with but understanding that doesn’t make me less masc? 
- not falling for terf rhetoric and not being afraid of masculinity. I’ve been down the “men are trash”route... and I’m older I know better that they don’t have to be 
- dating a man that I finally realized I do want to BE instead of date... only took 3 years
- living with a man that lets me hold his dick when he pees sometimes
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gompereatsall · 2 years
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uhh im just gonna ramble about my a3 "winter swap" au for a bit because i really love it but i doubt i'll ever make anything for it
(to preface: it's been a while since i've played a3 and reviewed its story, so I may have some things wrong here and there. it's part of the au now lmao)
okay so basically just an au where tsumugi, tasuku, hisoka, homare, and azuma are actors for the God Troupe instead of Mankai. (inspo for this was just that I, a tsumugi lover, just really wanted him to be mean and a "bad person" i have no idea why) These guys are the most popular actors for the god troup with Reni as their director; Taichi and Haruto also act for the god troupe, but they almost never get to see the spotlight, only as background characters. The two were lowkey treated like shit by Reni, and all they wanted was to become a good actor and to get fame.
It's still the same song and dance: Reni sends in Taichi as a spy, but Taichi ends up joining Mankai instead. Things explode over at the god troupe, especially between Tsumugi and Tasuku when the latter actor said he would also be leaving the god troupe. except before tasuku leaves, he essentially tells haruto, "you don't have to deal with this shit, you can come with me and join mankai." he doesn't at first, Tsumugi answering for him, "no, he won't and you won't," but Tasuku promptly left after that to see Tachibana. (Tasuku did offer Tsumugi to join Mankai with him, but Tsumugi was more disgusted with the idea of acting for the rival troupes, and was also angry that Tasuku was "abandoning" him). After stewing for a while, Haruto realized he hated being treated like dirt by the god troupe more than he hated mankai; he left and joined mankai shortly after tasuku left.
Needing a winter troupe, Izumi happily let Haruto and Tasuku join after the audition. Seeing potential in him, Haruto become the leader for the winter troupe.
Meanwhile, Tsumugi is fucking PISSED and is in an even worse mood than usual, and azuma, homare, and hisoka are starting to get sick of his shit. Reni, who's also getting sick of his shit and needing him to calm down, offers to Tsumugi that they should challenge mankai. Reni wanted to do this just to one up the rival troupes, and tsumugi saw this as a way to show Tasuku that he was better than those other actors, and to have him come back to Tsumugi.
Haruto took a while to adjust to the mankai company. He still acted like he was better than them all, and only tried to stop acting superior after getting a good talking to from tasuku, izumi, and others who were done with his shit. he is still confident, but his arrogance got knocked down a few pegs after meeting yuzo for the first time. He starts to settle in after a while, though. He was able to apologize to Taichi for treating him so badly before, and was able to befriend the boy. There, he started to feel like he belonged, and even started to let people call him by his real name, Genta Yamada, and slowly stopped hiding his dialect.
Izumi, taking on the challenge, still needed more members for the winter troupe, only having two at the moment. Holding auditions, Shift Arakawa finally decides to at least try and follow his dream, and ends up getting a part in the winter troupe. Madoka and his father have been working for the god troupe for a long while; after seeing the ad to audtion, in an act of defiance being fed up, Madoka audtions to be apart of the winter troupe. To be honest, I'm still not sure about the last troupe member; I'm leaning toward the idea of Guy appearing much earlier in the story for the same reasons, and he joins the winter troupe.
It takes a long while and some supernatural things to happen, but they all begin to understand one another and get closer as actors and as family.
but tasuku still misses tsumugi, his childhood friend. he was a nice guy, a good friend, but something changed when he started acting for the god troupe and under Reni. It's the same thing that made Taichi and Haruto so desperate to attention, the same thing that makes Hisoka either stay in his room or leave all day, the same thing that makes Homare say nothing other than his lines, the same thing that makes Azuma drink so so much. He just hopes that they're all right (even though he knows deep down they're not)
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viijaya · 2 years
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       /  Does anyone understand how the whole putting ur support setup of servants on event mode and normal mode works 😳 ? It might be obvious to some but up to this day I still have no idea how that works
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