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#man I wrote SO MUCH character analysis back in the day
ministarfruit · 2 years
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miss them. the two wiggly worms from dangit roomba v3
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hobie-enthusiast · 5 months
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THINGS SO DEAR !
— hobie brown x gn!reader
— fluff, character analysis, angst if u squint, head-canons, non-traditional love languages, specifically music, typical and non-typical couple behaviour, mentions of corrupt government, use of shit once
— The most important things in Hobie Brown's life, and how he connects them to his relationship
— i recently took a sort of unannounced break to center some attention around myself and the important things in my life. it has been about two months since i wrote and published my last piece, and for that i am sorry. as much as i didn't want to take a break, i needed to prioritize my mental health and manage my stress, depression, and anxiety before i could even think of writing. life was hard. i needed to make it not hard. i never intended to leave anyone in the dark, and for that i am, again, so sorry. though my interactions and maybe even posts will be less than before, i hope you can forgive me and continue to enjoy the content i produce. thank you, and i love you :)
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— music
The significance music holds to Hobie is something that he doesn't really expect people to understand. In fact, he thinks music is something a lot of people tend to under appreciate. To Hobie, music can be life changing. The mix of beautiful tunes and heartfelt lyrics can convey and provoke emotions that many people couldn't even describe. And that, to Hobie, holds a special place in his heart.
Music is a part of Hobie's everyday life. It's embedded in the way he fights. It's constantly ringing a tune in his head. Hell, even the lyrics to songs sometimes show up on the cutouts behind him. So naturally, it's important to him in his relationship. It's a love language. If words fail him, he can rely on a sweet sound from his guitar to convey his feelings to you. It's important that you know the importance of music from him, and understand why he thinks so deeply of it. Hobie loves the way a song can speak volumes, and when he writes something of his own, his fondest memories and relationships go into it. Every song about you is so deeply thought out, even if it's accompanied with a more punk-rock sound. It's the way he shows his love and adoration for you, unconventionally.
— creative outlets
Hobie believes that everyone should be able to express themselves. The ability to put one's imagination into their hobby is something Hobie values highly. For him, his outlets are advocacy and music. Hobie has a lot to say, and he wants people to hear what he has to say. Being able to put out his music for people who enjoy it is the perfect way for him to say everything he needs to where people will listen. And advocacy? He makes the important people listen.
In his relationship, he's one of the most supportive people anyone could possibly meet. He encourages you to continue pursuing your passion, supporting you every step of the way. Haven't found that passion? He'll help you find it. Hobie wants you to be able to express yourself in a way that isn't unhealthy, and a hobby is the way to go for that. Creative freedom isn't something anyone should lack, and Hobie will make sure that neither of you ever do lack it.
— advocacy
One thing Hobie will never understand is how a group of people could ever think that others different from them shouldn't deserve to live. Advocating not only for himself, but for the lost voices in society, is so incredibly important to him. It inspires the way he lives day to day, how he interacts with the world. Everyone deserves to live freely, not hated and dragged down just because of the way they look or think or love. He organizes protests, speaks out against corrupt government nature, and uses his Spider-man status to fight for what is truly right, even if it puts a target on his back.
When it comes down to his relationship, advocacy plays a big part in it. You and him work together to fight for what's right, and that means the world to him. Even if you can't do most of what he can (because he is, in fact, Spider-man), it still makes the world of a difference when you do what you can. Hobie knows that this sort of fight, this fight against a government that doesn't want him around, is one of the most difficult he will ever face. So having someone there by his side? Fighting with him? Cheering him on? Means a lot more than words can describe.
— communication
Communication is something Hobie has always sought out in his life. The idea that a relationship he worked so hard to build on could crumble from a simple misunderstanding is scary to him. He'll never let people misunderstand him. Not his messages in his music. Not his message when protesting. Not his message when crime fighting. None of it. It's what makes Hobie such an honest and open guy to his friends, family, and even the strangers he fights so often for.
Communication is the main concern Hobie has in a relationship. Like mentioned, he can't have it thrown away over something so trivial. The two of you are always open and honest with each other, even if it may come off as rude or hurtful. But that's what makes your relationship so strong and trusting. What may seem too open to others works perfectly for the two of you. And if there ever was a time where a miscommunication does happen, Hobie will always, always, be the first to set things right.
— crime fighting
From a young age, Hobie knew he couldn't rely on others to keep the city safe. It felt like no one was ever safe. Hence why he was quick to assume his Spider-man role when the opportunity came to him. It was hard at first, adjusting to constantly saving others from rotten criminals. But over time, it started becoming a piece of cake. At least until the bigger government problems presented itself. But fighting to keep the streets safe is something Hobie loves doing. It feels like he's doing his part for the people, even if that was something pushed onto him.
You, as his partner, are the one constantly pushing him to keep going and reminding him what he stands for. Said job as a city hero isn't easy, even for Hobie Brown. There was even a time when he tried to quit. Give it all up, because he was just so damn tired. But you didn't let him. It took a lot to remind Hobie that he's also doing this for himself. To remind him that he's doing so much and that you were so proud of everything he stands for. It was enough to get him back on his feet, keep him going when it comes to being the people's hero. Hobie never forgets your encouraging words, they always keep him going.
— his partner
Hobie values all the relationships he makes; platonic and romantic. He was lonely for a small time in his life, and it hurt him in ways he'll never forget. So his relationship with his partner will always be a priority. He'll never just jump into a relationship, he has to make sure this is someone he can see himself loving, committing to, forever holding close to him. But he'll never choose to love someone because of their looks, gender, sexuality, anything. The only preference he truly has is when it comes to personality and political beliefs (being an anarchist, he just can't see himself being with someone who isn't). Regardless, Hobie's partner will always have a feeling of love buzzing within them, solely because of how loving and loyal he truly is.
When it comes to you. Hobie is so incredibly in love. He takes no shit about it, and will defend you whenever he needs to. He's also somewhat over-protective, despite being very secure in the relationship. It's a comfort thing, is what he says when you ask. Hobie isn't afraid to show his love to you, though he does it more in private. He doesn't care what others think of him, but he also very much doesn't want you in such a harsh limelight (being how hated he is by the government). He only ever wants what is best for you, and will do a lot to make sure you have everything you deserve and more.
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maaarshieee · 1 year
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⎯⎯ ୨ 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐤? ୧ ⎯⎯
➢ Tɪɢʜɴᴀʀɪ x Gɴ!Rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ
➢ Mᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ
a/n - HONESTLY KAZUHA AND XIAO WAS SUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN FIRST BEFORE TIGHNARI but like, my boo (/p) had a really good idea so i wrote a fic for it HDHDSAHDAS, wrote this in class LMAO, took a small break from writing so I'm tryna warm up again to write more after my fuck ton of projects. titled "knock knock?" have a good day/night!!,, part 4 of marshie's oneshot/drabble after his character analysis :)
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Now, Tighnari was never the jealous type.
What's there to be jealous of? Other than those who are stupid enough to wander in the forest empty-handed, blissfully ignorant of the dangers until he had to take care of and lecture them for eating a poisonous mushroom even if he already advised them to read the Avidya Forest Survival Guide, jealousy was not something Tighnari was fortunately not familiar of.
Well, that is until you met Cyno, much to his dismay.
It was during one of his many visits to Collei at Gandharva Ville when the two of you bumped into each other accidentally. He happened to crack a joke whilst he was about to take his leave and you burst out laughing. And it wasn't just any laugh he's heard from you, you were near to tears, clutching your stomach and gasping for breath.
You genuinely thought his joke was hilarious, and he could even see the slight twitch at the corners of Cyno's lips, wearing a proud expression on his face.
That's the story of how you, a fellow Forest Ranger and Tighnari's lover, became friends with the General Mahamatra. Cyno, for one, would visit a lot more often. Tighnari asked you one day, about his frequent visits, and you answered; "Oh, we just tell each other jokes 'till he gets back on his responsibilities." With a bright smile on your lips, you wrote in your little notepad as you thought of more silly jokes, before adding, "Never knew he'd be the funny type. I thought you told me his humor was quite awful."
They were, your humor is just terribly in a match with his. He wanted to say to you, especially you talk about him like that; with a smile on your face, occasional soft chuckles under your breath, and a shine in your eyes. How absurd! You should be like that to him! Your boyfriend! The one who you said was the love of your life?
But he (thinks) doesn't care much about you bonding over with Cyno. In fact, he's glad Cyno met someone who actually appreciates his jokes and his attempts to appear less intimidating. Seeing both of you interact encouraged others to approach the Mahamatra with less fear.
Unfortunately, Tighnari can't shake off this heavy feeling in his chest. His brows would crease more often, his tail swishing side to side irritably and his ears would twitch or droop the more he thinks about it. Was he worried? Perhaps, but what would he be worried of?
Was it the way you perk up when you see him walking up to you? The way you laugh so hard you almost topple over? Or was it—
Oh. Oh.
He was jealous, wasn't he? Of Cyno, of all people.
Now, a rational and wise man like him would speak of you about this matter. As much as he puts so much faith in you, and trusts you because he loves you with all his heart, he just can't help but feel jealous when you look like that when you're with Cyno.
But when it comes to you? Let's just say he's looking for a way to win back all your attention back to him.
Finally, Tighnari understood one quote he's heard from other scholars back when he was still at the Akademiya. "Love makes you do foolish things." But what was it that Tighnari was planning?
It has been a few days since Tighnari came to terms with his jealousy, and you've noticed this new behavior he's developed. More often than not, you'd see him pondering, a hand on his chin, lost in thought. Then, out of the blue, his ears would perk up, as if he had come up with a good idea, pulling out a notebook from his bag and starts writing it down.
You respect his privacy, so you never took a peek at his notebook, but your curiosity is also quite strong. So you asked him about it. "This? Just a new notebook to write new discoveries, notes, and all sorts of things." That was what he said. How he treats it tells a different story.
He'd always make sure he'd have the notebook with him, closing the book when someone would walk toward him, and would occasionally write in it only when he was at a far distance from others. It was odd, but you never pried, mostly because whatever it was, it couldn't possibly be harmful to anyone.
You just took it as a new part of him. Still, curiosity would always win you over.
After getting injured in one of your patrols in the forest and getting patched up by your doting boyfriend, Tighnari (along with a lecture, of course), he let you stay in his tent to rest while he went back to his Forest Ranger duties. He happened to forget to bring his little notebook of secrets with him, leaving it near you.
For a while, you fought your curiosity out of respect for Tighnari. But you found yourself slowly inching towards it and before you knew it, you had the notebook in your hands.
You felt quite ashamed of yourself, face flushed and gulping. But a small, quick peek wouldn't hurt, right?
No one could have prepared you for the contents of the notebook. Before you could even properly process it all, Tighnari came back to the tent. "Sorry for disturbing your resting, but I forgot my—" His eyes landed on you, then trailed down to what you held in your hands, "...notebook."
There was a long, moment of silence between the two of you. Your eyes were as wide as an owl's, perpetually shocked by what he has written while Tighnari averted his eyes from you, ears twitching and his cheeks lightly dusted with pinkish hues.
Then, you let out this loud snort, wheezing out loud laughs before falling back onto your cot. The notebook that was once in your hands was quickly snatched by Tighnari, the heat worsening on his face as he felt both embarrassed and irritated (not really) by you, clutching the book to his chest.
"Oh, my Archons!" You managed to say between laughter, coughing into your fist as you tried to sit up, hand on your chest and catching your breath. He had never seen your face so red before, with the biggest grins stretching your lips and the tears forming in your eyes glimmering under the light. Tighnari felt his heart skip a beat, tail unknowingly wagging behind him. "You have a joke book!?"
Tighnari cleared his throat, sitting next to you whilst he held the notebook close to him while you stared at him with expectant eyes. Honestly, the things you do to him. Just that enthusiastic look on your face, full of amazement and adoration, makes his knees weak.
"I observed how much you find these horrid jokes hilarious, seeing how much you've been with Cyno just to exchange these jokes." He explained himself, letting out a rather annoyed sigh. "Honestly, I don't get why you think they're so funny. I'm simply writing them and I could feel myself get a headache from how hard I'm creasing my brows-"
"So, what you're sayin' is, you're jealous." You bluntly stated, sitting with your legs crossed, chin resting on your palm, and wearing a smug expression on your face. Tighnari choked on his words, giving you a half-hearted glare while his face blew up in flames. He was sure he was as red as a tomato at this point.
You weren't wrong, but he just couldn't admit that out loud to you. Especially with you. You'd never let it go.
Nudging him with your elbow, you chuckled at his expression. "That's really sweet of you." You mumble, scooting close to him with a loving smile. His breath hitched, leaning closer to you. "Why don't you tell me the rest of the jokes you've written so far?"
And with that, Tighnari opened his notebook once more. While Tighnari personally thought the jokes he'd written were repulsive, seeing you laugh at the jokes he wrote for you? To hold onto him to not fall over, complimenting him for his 'amazing' jokes? He wouldn't mind making a couple more.
After all, he's caught your attention once more. You're laughing at his jokes now, and he's never heard such beautiful sounds in his laugh. Your laughter was something he never knew he needed in his life.
Yeah, I'll write a few more. He thought, a tender smile on his lips whilst he watched you slapping your knee, wiping the tears away. If I could make you laugh like that, then I wouldn't mind.
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copperbadge · 1 year
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Of course it’s perfectly ok to enjoy “Stealing Harry”; the clue is right there in the title: STEALING Harry. It’s a TRANSFORMATIONAL work, full of characters whose sexual identity and attitudes would make Rowling tear her hair out. The lovely disclaimer on the front helpfully spreads the word about Rowling and her anti-trans fuckery. C’est parfait! 😘
Back when I was a much more dramatic young man, the very first description of Stealing Harry from the website I kept it on at the time read "Stealing Harry grabs canon by the throat and disembowels it." :D
I've always had a slightly contentious relationship to the canon, although it wasn't nearly as contentious before I started writing Laocoon's Children, because that involved reading and disassembling the (at the time) five books available, to try and reroute them through this more idealized alternate universe. It really showed me where the flaws were in the books, where Rowling was pleasing herself instead of serving the story, where things fell apart for one reason or another.
It's easy to hit such low-hanging fruit as JK Rowling these days but every author, in every book, does this, so it's not like she's unique; Rex Stout once said that nothing corrupts a man so thoroughly as writing a book (he wrote forty of them). So it's not like I'm a paragon, I do this too; there are places in Twelve Points right now where I'm literally asking myself "Should I fix this or can I play the Romance Novels Aren't Perfect card?"
But when you are doing such close analysis you do really start to see the ugliness early, which is why I mostly disengaged from the universe -- the canon, the fanfic, the fandom -- around when book six came out. There were things I was struggling to reconcile, and I realized I wanted to be working with different canons. Just as well, or book seven would absolutely have devastated me. As it was, I read it once, went "Huh," wrote one fanfic, and then walked away.
Still, I'm proud of what I did in the fandom, the stories I told -- most of them, anyway -- and the things I learned from it. Without my early Harry Potter fanfic I would never have developed the readership I have, and I don't know how I would have found community without that. So, you take the good with the bad. And if I have to have a couple of famous Harry Potter fanfics, at least the really well-known ones are almost universally "I thought canon was lame so I fixed it."
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imustbenuts · 1 month
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sits down and thinks
Infinite wealth spoilers and half baked analysis and thoughts
Infinite wealth
Ig this comes across easier in Asian culture context but the wealth in infinite wealth doesn't mean money. It means bonds. (EDIT: by which i mean JP and Chinese.)
The short of it, the words used to describe relationships, karma, luck and fate all are rooted in the idea of threads. These words when written in kanji all have the thread 糸 radical in it. 縁 en is the common kanji word here.
And since luck is deeply tied to money, the idea of Infinite Wealth here is absolutely not (strictly) money. Given how the rgg series and their writers or even Japan has been disillusioned with the bubble boom, and ichiban will turn his back on money over bonds, this tracks for me.
And this is constantly reflected in the stories and substories. The "wealth" of a person is reflected in the bonds between people. It's not a coincidence the game throws old characters from previous games and substories along Kiryu's way. That's the wealth he's accumulated, the wealth that actually matters once he's at the end of his life where money can't save him from what sounds like terminal cancer. It's Haruka and Haruto and the orphanage and Four Shine and all the people he's helped who's more than happy to carry him if he asks.
The "payoff" is constantly in the reciprocating of a person's virtues in terms of kindness, compassion and patience.
Fuck it's getting to me again fuckfuckfuck--
Ending scene
Ebina and ichiban not meeting but being set up to mirror Nishiki and Kiryu's brother relationship...
And kiryu going from recognizing the pattern to outright understanding a repeat of something similar and just shutting it down, chefs kiss.
Plus plus the entire ending scene is dripping with symbolism. I'm about to fucking vomit
So, sosososo-
I noticed by late game before the monologue, Ebina is being a hell warden karmic entity by essentially setting up an underground pain prison for a whole group of people deemed trash by society. And then he reveals his irezumi and oooh
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I see I see. That's an oni and a pissed off snake. Nele island, the paradise/heaven of the palekanas getting turned into the karmic hell/jigoku is. Holy shit. Who wrote this?? I will kiss them??!
Someone on Reddit also did a more in depth write up on this and wow delicious . check out the top comment which is even more spot on
I also dk if this made it past the tonal barrier but jp kiryu literally begging ebina to let the yakuzas have a second chance is... Ough. as goofy as that scene was with kiryu planking on top of ebina, he was effectively on his hands and knees begging and I'm. Ow. Owowowowowow wow. OW.
Kiryu in that scene seems to be embodying a dragon. Whimsical, powerful fucks who appear whenever they feel like and according to myths are benevolent too. So when kiryu planks above it's signifying a dragon pleading with the hell warden to let a bunch of people go, almost with its last breath... Crying even that his tears falls on ebina's face, and ebina having this look realizing that the dragon is human. It got me. I finished rgg8 days ago and it's still getting me
WAUGH. IT GOT ME GOOD
Then kiryu collapses on top of ebina, almost as if all the weight and regret he's been carrying on his back comes literally crashing into ebina's reality, and ebina is probably so shocked he doesn't do anything for the rest of the ending.
WAUGH!! x2
GOOFY SCENE BUT I UNDERSTOOD THAT, AAAAA
FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK
Shout-out to Daigo for being the one with the most 'oh shit' expression and legging it to kiryu first. And Majima for legging it 2nd in the background. Man.
In spite of what kiryu says and believes I don't think he could have changed the Yakuza world that much though. One way or another there's just too many factors at play. Hes absolutely right in his speech about walking the grayest road there is.
Ough.
Ichigang
Love them.
Yu Nanba takes the cake for me here for being the most respectful and compassionate about knowing how to handle kiryu as a person with terminal cancer/disability. Ichiban echoes this too, but the way they are all playing support rather than forcing kiryu to do things makes it 11/10 for me
Older folks who lead rough lives and are fiercely independent like kiryu can be ANNOYING reconciling with their health. Bc of a mix of pride and their own lived era/environment, being seen as weak and disabled is deeply shameful psychologically (idk if this is the same in US/UK but I'm speaking from an Asia specific mentality here). In essence many resign themself to death and refuse treatment, medication, or even walking canes. Like they'd rather die than be burdens.
And kiryu def has echoes of this. I wanted to slap him so many times in his bucket list substory. Lmao
Chitose Fujinomiya
Interesting character. She seems to have gone through a "setting-up" arc in this game for future writing if it makes sense.
Her Fujinomiya name sounds like a shout-out to the Fujiwaras, a clan who had total political control of Japan all the way until 1868. These days their descendants have taken on different family names, branched off, and now control some zaibatsu in some of them.
And her family does indeed sound like a zaibatsu. More than likely with what I know above, she will have some political weight as the chairwoman now.
Chitose will be an incredibly valuable key character for future installments of RGG, especially with the political Daidoji faction running about. I'm stoked. The future installments can def go international if they want to. Current geopolitics in Asia has potential as a rgg backdrop especially when it comes to money and gangs.
We have Thailand with localized gangs calling the shots controlling the tourism there. Ie Thailand Tourist Mafias (Also human trafficking and sex tourism. Siam dius/Thai discos are very similar to cabaret clubs too.)
There's also background money laundering going on, where countries and their bank happily take less than clean money for their economy under tax haven schemes. (COUGH SINGAPORE COUGH). There are also lots of trafficking of people looking for jobs into other asian countries and forcing them to work in scam centers...
Basically lots of potential avenues if they wanted to write about these things. So. LETS GO. LETS GO CHITOSE WOOO
ICHIBAN
So much more to say but I'll end with this one. ICHIBAN.
Ichiban has made more progress in terms of emotional and social development, and turning that into proper positive actions, than kiryu has done at that age.
I don't mean this as a diss either but where kiryu was incredibly flawed in his lone wolf ways and unable to leverage his connections with his circumstances, Ichiban keeps pulling through with it. And kiryu to be fair could not have been able to do the same where the Yakuza environment and politics were as fucked as it is in his time.
Both approaches have their pros and cons though, bc Ichigang is now in a position to get sniped if the environment around them turns for the worse.
Idk if it's going there but. Huhu! :3c
I want more but I'm happy and satisfied for now but also if anyone touches me I fear I'm gonna to explode. Waughghhhhhhggr.
Screams
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sapphire-weapon · 21 days
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my first fictional crush was goku at age maybe 6.
the first fanfiction i ever wrote was FF7. the second one was DBZ. the third was a crossover between them both. i was like. 8 or 9.
in 5th grade, i got in trouble in school for passing handwritten DBZ fanfiction back and forth with the boy who sat front of me in class, and my mom refused to yell at me for it because she was glad that i was doing something creative.
DBZ was one of the things that my brother and i actually did together as kids. we were never close because he's 6 years older than me, but i have distinct memories of coming home from school and he'd be waiting with the next 3 or 4 DBZ episodes he'd downloaded from the internet, japanese fansubbed in english because the english dub hadn't released past the frieza saga yet. so i knew how the series went before any of my friends did. he would also go to chinatown in NYC and come home with bootleg fansubbed VHS tapes of DBZ movies. this was like circa 1999-2001. i still have them at my mom's house.
before i knew that cosplay was a thing that people actually did, i went as pan from DBGT for halloween when i was 12.
when i did find out what cosplay was, i was too afraid to do it properly, so when i went to my first convention at 17 with a boyfriend who did not want to go with me but i made him go anyway (it was AnimeNEXT 2007), i threw together a closet cosplay of a genderbent mirai trunks. and i actually found the fucking picture i took of it in the bathroom at my mom's house.
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(that's the closest you're ever going to get to a proper face reveal btw lmao a 17 year old picture of me where you can see more of my tits than my face.)
i then went on to properly redo my pan cosplay, and i cosplayed chichi as well. took a picture at a con with a lil baby like 3 year old who was dressed up as goku. can't find it right now though.
in 2011, i went to anime boston with @feelboss and @theggning and drunkenly ran into sean schemmel (the english voice of goku) and somehow ended up on stage with him later that night, still wasted, at the hentai dubbing panel. faked an orgasm on stage for goku in front of about 200 people. my first fictional crush. probably the most iconic moment of my con-going days. i was 21.
the very first time i was able to use analysis of a character's arc to accurately predict their future portrayal in canon was mirai trunks. when his db super arc aired, i remember just being totally floored like, "i can't believe i actually called so much of this" -- especially considering the fact that DB never really had much of a reputation of being consistent.
i just have so many memories of staying up late with @godtier watching DB and shitposting and RPing bardock and raditz and trolling the fuck out of each other, and just
man DB was such a huge part of my life and just... felt like it was always there for me.
i don't normally mourn celebrity deaths, but i feel like i've spent the last 30 years of my life with akira toriyama. losing him hurts so much. it feels like the world has had a little bit of hope fade away from it. i have a headache from crying.
i know that i would always meme on you for forgetting your own characters, but... thank you, toriyama-san. for everything.
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melonteee · 2 months
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May I recommend some One Piece fics? One of them has me clawing the walls and wanting to write ten billion fics about all the OP women _:(´ཀ`」 ∠): and the other fundamentally changed me as a human being.
The former is a Robin centred fic and the latter is a Sanji centred fic. If you have read these before, sorry if I’m just parroting what you’ve already read! Also please feel no pressure to read these, I just wanted to share with a fellow OP enjoyer :DDD
Sanji Fic: Custom of the Sea - 17K: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39516201?view_adult=true
So this one really, REALLY explores Sanji’s duties as a chef and how far he’d be willing to go to ensure that his crew won’t starve (if you know what the title of the fic means then you’re halfway there) and there are heavy warnings at the start of the fic that I won’t repeat but I will state that the fic is tagged with “angst with a happy ending” so a heaping helping of optimism is needed whilst reading!
(I did not read the tags thoroughly though I still enjoyed the fic, but please don’t be as silly as me)
I love when a One Piece fic explores the connections between the Straw Hats (some more than others, cough ZORO cough) and I especially love the flashbacks we get with Chef Zeff— I will never be able to stop thinking about them and clutching at my chest like I’m trying to ease an unseen weight (the burden, oh the burden of loving a fictional blond man).
I love how Sanji is written, how we get to see him reduced to his base components, how as he thins with each day we see what becomes transparent beneath all the layers; who he truly is when stripped down to the bone.
^ tryhard
There is also a scene that is so reverent; so intimate; so raw that it feels like a violation to intrude upon such a private moment and a discourtesy that it isn’t being analysed and examined by every literature study or professor alive. Wow it fucks me up that this fic only has 8K hits. The author also writes some good ZoSan fics if that’s also something you’d like :))
Robin Fic: What is and What could never be - 58K (unfinished as far as I’m aware): https://archiveofourown.org/works/42768912/chapters/107441889
Robin. Has. A child.
[incoherent wailing about motherhood, unconditional love, the fear of loving someone and letting them love you back, love you thought you lost but has endured all along]
I haven’t even finished it yet nor am I even anywhere close in the timeline in which the fic takes place but I already know it’s one of my favourite fics I’ve read, and has made me realised that I have overlooked the OP women in the most egregious manner possible.
I absolutely adore your OP character analysis videos, and having your big brain analysis sitting in the back of my mind while reading this fic has made me appreciate and enjoy this fic tenfold.
Nico Robin I love you in a way that heals me and hurts me.
I am also a tremendous sucker for Frobin (the author wrote smut for this fic which 😳) but I also adore her relationships with Chopper, Nami and Luffy which absolutely enamoured me and has scorched my brain, leaving a permanent mark. Also extremely cruel and wicked that this fic only has 8K hits.
Anyway I wrote all of this at 1am, so if I sound mad it’s because I am. Thanks for creating hilarious and extremely insightful analysis videos, I’ve been watching your channel since the MHA character design video (I still burst out laughing thinking about Todoroki’s design sometimes) and I always look forward to new vids :D
Thank you for these but I can’t promise I’ll read them haha, I don’t tend to read too many fics but I appreciate the thought. I know you didn’t do it here but I also ask to please not send me smut fics or anything since I’m not an nsfw account and also a stranger to you guys 😅
And thank you so much for enjoying my content! ❤️
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not-ishmael · 1 year
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A (not so) Brief Study Into the Nature of Deltarune
TL;DR:
For some time I've been quite intrigued by the appearance of some very particular leitmotifs that Undertale's and Deltarune's OSTs have in common. This took me down a rabbit hole that ended with the realization that it's quite possible that DR Sans and UT Sans are one in the same, and the Reset Theory on Deltarune is probably right.
This forces me to believe that Deltarune is a prequel from the perspective of the characters, and a spiritual sequel from the perspective of the Soul/Player.
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The Pre-Sequel Theory
First and foremost, pardon my english. I'm quite proud of my english skills, but it's not my first language and sometimes I mess up.
This is a LONG post. There's a lot -a LOT- of text and no images at all to ease the reading. I advice jumping into it only if you don't have anything better to do for a bit. The PDF I firstly wrote this on is 6 and a half pages long.
Index:
Motivations.
Clues in Undertale.
Clues in Deltarune.
The Delta Rune.
Conclusions.
Problems with this theory.
Blood (This part is skippable).
Discussion of the problems.
1 Motivations:
I've always been fascinated by soundtracks and ever since Undertale came up, its soundtrack wasn't an exception.
More recently I've been a bit more focused on the leitmotifs that Toby Fox uses in both game's soundtracks and, as many people have found, they share a lot of common themes. For many of them it's easy to understand why (for instance, for common character's themes, like Sans') but for some others it's not so much.
Having a more or less clear relationship between the games through the music, I tried to study the nature of this relationship, and what elements outside the music can be used as proof of this connection. This got me to Sans ,because of course it did.
Trying to justify this took me down the rabbit hole that theory crafting around Sans has always been, and the musical side of my reasoning ended up being a small part of the whole thing. Regardless I'm quite happy with the result, albeit it's not free of problems that I'll address and discuss at the end.
I'd like to also thank @determinators, who's incredible character analysis on Chara inspired me to write this whole thing.
With that out of the way, let's begin by talking about small details that Undertale gives us and hints to it being connected to Deltarune in some way:
2 Clues in Undertale:
There’s a lot of non-music related hints that point towards a possible connection between both games in Undertale. I tried to make a small summarize of all the most important signs I’ve found.
To begin with, there are a couple of small details that show that Sans Undertale seems to have quite the interesting backstory, these being:
Both him and Papyrus appeared one day in Snowdin, seemenly out of nowhere.
In Sans’ lab there’s a broken machine and a poorly drawn picture of 3 people we don’t recognize with ”don’t forget” written on it.
Sans insists a lot about about how he gave up trying to go back (somewhere, sometime, or both).
On the other hand there’s the famous Gaster’s Entry 17, that could imply some knowledge of the Dark Fountains by the former Royal Scientist. Gaster related as well, there’s Clam Girl, who mentions a monster named Suzy. Soon before the release of Deltarune, in the Switch version of the game, Clam Girl would turn grey and says that the time to meet this Suzy ”... is fast approaching”, before disappearing with the sound Mystery Man makes when disappearing himself. Although Suzy is not written the same way as Susie, there’s no reason to believe that Clam Girl is not talking about Deltarune’s Susie. This not only hints to Undertale and Deltarune being connected, but to Gaster being behind the whole connection, since Clam Girls turns into a goner sprite and disappears the same way Mystery Man does. I know Mystery Man is not confirmed to be Gaster, but it’s definitely related to him in someway.
There must be something going on with Papyrus as well, since he’s Sans’ brother and comes to Snowdin with him, but in Undertale he doesn’t seem to know as much as Sans knows. This could mean, since Papyrus doesn’t bleed, that Undertale Papyrus and Undertale Sans are not the same kind of being, and don't share a past.
2.1 Sans’ lines during combat:
During the fight against Sans, nearing the end of the Genocide Route, we get some clues about his backstory within his lines of dialogue. He begins, after the Player’s first attack, by saying:
our reports showed a massive anomaly in the timespace continuum. timelines jumping left and right, stopping and starting...until suddenly, everything ends. heh heh heh... that's your fault, isn't it?
We don’t know who is he working with, but it seems they know very well about the power to control the timeline, since they were monitoring it.
Sans continues with:
knowing that one day, without any warning... it's all going to be reset.
look. i gave up trying to go back a long time ago. and getting to the sur-ace doesn't really appeal anymore, either. cause even if we do...we'll just end up right back here, without any memory of it, right?
to be blunt...it makes it kind of hard to give it my all.
Here we get a bit more information. Sans is -understandably- depressed about the whole reset situation, but mentions ”going back” somewhere. We know it’s not somewhen since he doesn’t remember earlier timelines -besides the occasional déjà vu- and it’s not the Surface because he mentions it right after that line. So, where else would Sans be trying to go back to? It can’t be anywhere in the Undertale world, since he can move freely through the Underground - even through teleportation- and he specifically states that it’s not the Surface. Thus it can only mean somewhere outside the Undertale world.
A bit after that he continues with:
all i know is... seeing what comes next... i can't afford not to care anymore.
What does he mean by ”seeing what comes next”? He doesn’t know the future, nor what the Player did in other timelines. So, what is he seeing? I have no clue for what he could be referring too, but I do think that the answer lies within Deltarune’s story. We’ll have to wait for future chapters to know.
2.2 Sans’ secret lab:
After Sans gives the Silver Key -which appears to be a reference to a book about timetravel by H.P. Lovecraft- to the Player, we can access the Secret Lab hidden underneath his house. Inside of it we find:
A covered up broken machine.
Blueprints for a machine written in un- readable symbols.
A badge.
A photo album with:
A picture of Sans, happy, with other people the Player doesn’t recognize.
If the Player already fought Asriel: A second picture appears, showing Sans, Frisk and their friends.
After the v1.001 patch of the game, if the Player has talked to Clam Girl and knows of Suzy, from the back of the photo album sticks out a poorly drawn picture of three smiling people with the words ”Don’t Forget” written on it.
The first three items, although interesting, don’t give us much to work with. The machine is covered up and the blueprints are unreadable. The badge could become another huge hint in the future, if during Deltarune’s festival Sans happens to win a badge for winning at something, but this is purely speculation so I won’t be taking it into account.
The pictures and the drawing, on the contrary, give us much more information. Let's discuss them a bit more in depth:
2.2.1 The photo album:
By the time the Player gets the Silver Key, possibly after the battle with Asriel, they (and Frisk) have met every main character in Undertale’s story. Thus, the people in the first picture, who neither the Player nor Frisk recognize, can’t be anyone we know. They could be people from other places in the Underground Frisk hasn’t met -although from a storytelling perspective this doesn’t make much sense- or they could be from the Deltarune world -which makes a lot more sense storywise-.
Furthermore, there’s the poorly drawn picture. Since this picture only appears after talking to Clam Girl, a character heavily tied to Deltarune -specifically to one Deltarune Character-, and it has the words ”Don’t forget” -words that don't mean anything special in Undertale, but are extremely important an present in Deltarune from the very beginning- written on it, it’s safe to assume that the three poorly drawn characters are a trio from Deltarune. Due to Frisk not recognizing them, they have to be characters that only appear on Deltarune. What trio of characters do we know from Deltarune that fit these characteristics? I’m fairly sure Kris and Susie are two of the three, but the third is a bit more complicated. My first suspect was that it was Ralsei, but since he’s a darkner and we don’t know if darkners will be able to get to the Light world somehow, nor if Sans will end up in a Dark world; I’m more inclined to leave that third character’s identity up for debate. My other candidate is Noelle, since Berdly dies in the Snowgrave route of Chapter 2 -and Toby Fox likes to keep all possible endings as canon- and we don’t know any other important lightner that doesn’t appear in Undertale as well.
3 Clues in Deltarune:
Since we have just 2 chapters -out of Toby knows how many-, not many hints to Undertale appear in the second game. Still, much can be said from the leitmotifs that can be heard in the game’s soundtrack, which was the main motivation for this analysis.
3.1 A brief introduction to leitmotifs:
*This part is skippable if you know what a leitmotif is*
To those who don’t know, a leitmotif is a small piece of melody that appears many times in a composition, and is associated to someone, somewhere or an idea. Examples of this are the main themes of characters: a recognizable simple melody that is associated to a specific someone-For instance, the melody in Nyeh Heh Heh!, which would be Papyrus’ leitmotif-.
Soundtracks are rigged with leitmotifs, and neither Undertale’s nor Deltarune’s soundtracks are an exception. Since each one is associated to a specific character, place or idea, the use of the same ones in both games is something to keep in mind.
3.2 Leitmotifs that appear in both games:
The first song that plays inside the world of Deltarune, in Chapter 1, is Beginning, which has 2 leitmotifs in it: Once upon a time -from Undertale-, and Don’t Forget, -from Deltarune-. This second leitmotif appears in several other songs in Chapter 1, and in some of Chapter 2.
The song that plays in the menu after you finish Chapter 1 is called Before the Story, which has the exact same melody as in Once upon a time. This leitmotif is one of the most -if not he most- used in Undertale’s soundtrack. For me, it’s kind of the ”Undertale theme”, for how much it appears in the soundtrack of the game -same as Don't Forget would be Deltarune's theme-.
There are some other Undertale leitmotifs in Deltarune’s OST that I won’t be taking into consideration. These are the character’s leitmotifs, like Sans’, and other that represent important emotions like determination, despair and hope-These leitmotifs are a bit difficult to recognize if you’re not deep into the music side of the games. Determination can be heard, among others, in Undertale’s Determination and Deltarune’s Rude Buster; Despair corresponds to the melody in Undertale’s Burn in Despair, and appears in Your Best Nightmare, Vs. Susie and at Queen’s basement, right before the Spamton NEO fight; and Hope is sometimes called ”Snowdin’s theme”, which appears in Undertale’s Snowdin Town and Hopes and Dreams -thus why I prefer to call it Hope’s leitmotif- and in Deltarune’s A Town Called Hometown-. These leitmotifs being in both games is to be expected, since they either represent common characters or common emotions to both games, so they're not really relevant to the theory.
Going back to the theory, the use of ”Don’t Forget” as a title for the most present leitmotif in Deltarune is a bit on the nose, taking into account the poorly drawn picture in Sans’ Secret Lab. The soundtrack acts as a constant reminder to not forget -pun intended- that drawing. But this isn’t the only insinuation Toby’s left in the game’s music. There’s another, much obscurer clue, it being the name of the song Before the Story. Since it plays in the menu only after you play Chapter 1, it can’t be referring to ”before the story” of Deltarune, since that story has already begun. So, what if the Story is Undertale’s? If so, since it uses the most important leitmotif of Undertale in a song called ”Before the Story”, this would imply that Deltarune’s story happens before Undertale.
3.3 Non-musical clues:
How the Player interacts with the world seems to also indicate a relationship between games. Specifically those lines that point to the Player knowing characters -or things about characters- that Kris doesn’t know yet. This in and of itself is not enough to prove that the games are a direct sequel and prequel of each other but, in combination with everything else already discussed it does add to that idea.
4 The Delta Rune:
Both the appearance of the Delta Rune in both games and its name are big indicators of this connection between games. Even though in Undertale it’s not known what its original meaning was, there’s a prophecy that sounds remarkably alike to the Delta Rune Legend from Deltarune. In Undertale there are two interpretations: either the Angel will murder all monsters, or free them all from the Underground. Additionally, in Deltarune, the Legend Ralsei tells us says that the Angel is to be defeated by three heroes: two lightners -a human and a monster- and a darkner.
Since the Delta Rune is older than written history in Undertale and it’s original meaning was lost to time, that one of the 2 interpretations for this symbol is so close to the Legend Ralsei gives us, with an evil Angel instead of a benevolent one, could mean that, originally, both Runes had the same meaning behind.
5 Conclusions:
With all this in mind, I’m quite sure now that at the end of Deltarune Sans will end up being stuck in Undertale’s world, possibly using the machine he keeps covered up in his lab. Since Papyrus doesn’t seem to be much different to any other monster in the Underground I don’t think he comes from Deltarune’s world, so I fear a tragic end for the Papyrus we’re yet to meet.
This ending would make sense of the whole ”Your choices don’t matter” thing. The Snowgrave route seemed to contradict this statement but, if just Sans is going to Undertale, whatever you do on Deltarune’s Universe won’t matter to Sans’ end. Undertale’s story is already written and the end we got will remain untouched, as Toby said. This also implies that our actions don't matter to Deltarune’s world end too. This, plus the possible death of Papyrus, points to a violent end of the game. Being blunt: I think the Roaring is inevitable.
But if Deltarune is a prequel, how is it that the Player recognizes the characters that both games have in common and it’s advised that the game is played after Undertale? I believe the game is a prequel from Sans’ perspective, and a spiritual sequel from the Player’s. The Player, being the meta-being that it is in the games, doesn’t need to abide by the same temporal rules the characters are forced to follow. Thus there's no contradiction in Deltarune being a prequel to Undertale.
6 Problems with this theory:
To prove this theory we need for Papyrus to die and the Roaring to happen. It’s a grim condition, perhaps too much so that I don’t see Toby having a dream about it and deciding to dedicate the next +10 years of his life to make a game about it; or perhaps it's just the kind of dramatic and emotive ending that would motivate someone to do exactly just that.
UT Papyrus seems to not know anything about his brother’s possible past in another world, and acts as if they had been together since forever. They both appeared one day in Snowdin and his past seems as mysterious as Sans’, but they can’t be directly related since Papyrus doesn’t bleed.
I don’t know how will Sans get to Undertale’s world (my guess is Gaster, but he’s a bit of an easy-way-out in theory crafting).
Naming a song doesn’t need to be a very thought out process, even if Toby Fox has a tendency to be very attentive to details. The name of Before the story could just be a synonym to "Main menu".
Grillby’s. Sans’ convenience store, ’Sans, appears to have the same façade as Grillby’s in Undertale, with the name of Grillby rubbed off. This small detail is a possible proof against the sequel thesis, albeit it could just mean that Hometown had a Grillby’s before Sans’ convenience store and it closed down for some unknown reason.
It’s debated whether monsters from Deltarune have magic or not. There are some indications that they do have magical powers, but for some reason seem to have forgotten about them and it’s been left as an obscure thing very little people know about. Anyhow, Sans does have -very powerful- magic powers in Undertale, so this uncertainty could disprove the whole theory.
7 Blood.
*This entire part is skippable, after reading the TL;DR*
TL;DR: As always, blood seems to be the biggest issue around Sans’ theories. To summarize, unless we get undeniable proof that DR monsters do bleed in some way before turning into dust, Sans bleeding could be a huge weak point for this theory.
Before I finish this post, I'd like to address one of the biggest conundrums in Undertale: Sans' blood. Throughout the post I've gone with the assumption that Sans can bleed without proving it in anyway.
It’s fair to say that Sans does bleed in Undertale before turning into dust outside the screen, and he’s the only Undertale monster that does. We know he bleeds because he does it from the mouth as well, far from where the Player cuts him, which would only happen with regular bleeding around a digestive system rather than with ketchup stored in his rib cage. But, is there any indication that Deltarune monsters bleed?
This is highly debatable, but there are some unused sprites that show Susie bleeding. Even though they are unused, why would Toby Fox make them if the thought of bleeding monsters wasn’t in his mind? There’s a monster kid - not the Monster Kid- that asks Kris if it hurts to be made of blood, which implies that monsters are not; but the bleeding Susie sprite is a huge indicative that Toby had this idea of monsters bleeding in Deltarune.
Regarding the ”everybody bleeds” quote, in the Japanese version of the game Susie doesn’t mention blood but ”wounds”, using a word in no way related to blood or bloody wounds. Because of this, the quote is probably just a figure of speech. It’s a bit odd that a monster would use a figure of speech that mentions blood, but it’s probably because the script is written by a human, for humans to read; or that she comes from a human community, as some have hypothesised.
7.1 Berdly’s death:
Anyhow, monsters in Deltarune do seem to turn into dust after they die. Gerson, for instance, had his dust buried with his hammer, following a similar funeral ritual to that of Undertale. But Berdly, who is presumably dead after Chapter 2 if the Snowgrave route was taken, didn’t. At least, not for a long time, from after he died until Kris, Susie and Noelle leave the Librarby.
The toy in the hospital’s waiting room appears to confirm to Berdly’s death, since one of the blue beads breaks off after Snowgrave -this means there's more than 1 blue bead, possibly 2: one for Berdly and one for Kris-. But can we be certain that this means death? We do know this toy symbolizes the state of the game: the beads’ colours are the same as the main characters’, it’s said that they each ”march along their set paths", reminding us that our actions don't matter, and in the end of Chapter 2 - if nobody died- it says that the beads "march on". Berdly’s coloured bead being broken and off the rail after Snowgrave, and him appearing to ”not be awake” in the Light world indicate the end of the road for that character. It’s safe to assume that this detail does confirm that he dies after Snowgrave. But if so, how is it that his body didn’t turn immediately into dust?
In the Neutral route, Berdly’s arm gets burned and, after the Dark Fountain gets sealed, his arm doesn’t seem to respond. It’s not burned, just not moving. From this we can assume that injuries in the Dark world have physical manifestations in the Light world. This explains why Berdly is just dead and not frozen after Snowgrave. But it also could mean that he’s not completely dead, but fallen down, a comatose fatal state. This could mean that the broken bead does means certain death, just not right away. If so, then there’s nothing pointing to Deltarune monsters being any different to Undertale’s in nature, other than their apparent lack of magic powers, and this whole theory crumbles to dust -pun intended-.
As always, blood seems to be the biggest issue around Sans’ theories. So, to summarize, unless we get undeniable proof that monsters bleed in some way before turning into dust, this will keep on being a huge weak point in this theory.
8 Discussion of the problems:
Regardless of these problems, including the blood one, I still believe that this theory holds. There’s enough evidence to back up the thesis. Even if monsters don’t bleed in Deltarune, it’d make perfect sense for Sans UT to be from this world and not Undertale’s.
Nevertheless, if the blood problem isn’t explained through Deltarune, new theories will have to arise to explain why Sans is so different from any other monster.
Furthermore, if bleeding is not something Deltarune monsters do, then it’s possible that UT Papyrus is the same as DR Papyrus, like Sans, since the main reason for that distinction was that Papyrus didn’t bleed. This would imply an ending a bit less grim for the skeleton duo, although the inevitability of the Roaring still looks unavoidable to maintain the whole theme of the game: ”Your choices don’t matter ”
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inaflashimagine · 2 years
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true soma
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pairing: eddie munson x g/n reader (though f!reader at the end/smut)
summary: as part of your writing business, you wrote eddie munson's english essay for $20. the problem was, you got caught by the loving ms. o'donnell. the only way to escape expulsion for plagiarism? becoming an english tutor for eddie 'the freak' munson.
word count: 14.5k (help)
warnings: includes the classic stressors and existential crises that come with being a high school senior applying to college, swearing, few substance use references and lots of book references (and a discussion) by two nerds. nsfw part at the end: oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex (oops), hypocritical, inexperienced reader making fun of their inexperienced boyfriend, mentions of handcuffs(?)
a/n: I come out of a year-long writing hiatus on this blog only to write my longest one-shot ever...for a 3d character! At the end of the day, Eddie Munson is a dorky metalhead that leads a group of equally-dorky (but endearing) nerds, so I hope that somewhat came through.
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“Please see me after class.”
There was never a time you’d like to hear those words, but receiving them from a frowning Ms. O’Donnell just after the first two weeks of your senior year of high school was less than ideal.
You deluded your anxious self into thinking that your AP Lit teacher wanted to share some information with you regarding college applications. Or that the reason you were the only student who wasn’t handed back their essay on the making of John Proctor as a tragic hero in The Crucible was due to its poignant, publication-worthy analysis that moved its grader to tears.
All those (ir)rationalizations were immediately thrown out the window upon seeing a certain, eccentric person rush into a classroom that everyone but you had now left.
“Ms. O’Donnell! How are you on this fine day?” His growing smile only seemed to further aggravate the visibly annoyed recipient of the question. And when he nodded and offered a wide grin your way, your blood ran cold. 
Because you knew what was about to occur was far from fine.
“It could be much worse, Mr. Munson, even if it is only ten in the morning.” 
When Ms. O’Donnell retrieved two essays from a thick stack of papers, sweat began to form on your forehead as she scolded, “Though I’m afraid the same could not be said for the two of you.”
“And why’s that?” speculated an oblivious Eddie as you seriously contemplated if the man who flunked high school twice was acting stupid or that genuinely dumb. “Aren’t I next to the smartest nerd in Hawkins? President of the Honor Society? It can’t be that serious.”
“Well, Mr. Munson, that statement provides further evidence of why you would hire said student to write your English essay.”
The smile on Eddie’s face immediately swiped off his face, much like the way you felt the ground give way beneath you as a silently fuming Ms. O’Donnell aggressively returned your respective papers.
Only the pages in your trembling hands did not thoroughly discuss the flaws and adulterous sins of John Proctor but provided a horrible retelling of the adventures of Huckleberry Finn in an essay that was intentionally written to barely deserve a C-.
And the most damning part: the paper was purported to be written by “Edward Munson”.
“Oh, I see what’s wrong, Ms. O’Donnell,” Eddie dared to say, a lackadaisical smirk on his face as he pointed to the main title on the cover page he was holding. You swore you saw him (poorly) wink at you before he blathered, “It’s a classic switch-a-roo, a simple mistake. Who is John Proctor? You should give this to him, the dude must be sweating about his grade.”
Ms. O’Donnell’s eye twitched as yours widened. “Mr. Munson, plagiarism is not some silly joke and can result in suspension or expulsion for the both of you.” Knowing she wouldn’t get any answers from him, her stern expression now faced you. “Care to explain why he turned in your AP Lit essay while you gave me his Academic English Lit paper?”
Yet no explanation, or even lie, would get you out of this sticky situation. The truth was simple, really: you charged Eddie “The Freak” Munson $10–plus a $10 rush fee deposit–to write a shitty three-page paper on Huck Finn.  
“You want it to get a C?” you remembered asking him, confusion evident on your face as you scrutinized the energetic man before you. 
How dare he approach your lunch table in broad daylight while he incessantly poked at the hole in his distressed jeans, occasionally munched on a pretzel, and made such a preposterous request? 
“Did anyone ever tell you how my business actually works?”
His amused grin offended you even more, if that were possible. “‘It’s an A or you don’t pay’, got it loud and clear. But from one entrepreneur to another, it’s not the, uh, best branding–”
“–Excuse me?”
 “C’mon, look at me”–he jutted two wagging thumbs toward himself while he looked at you and your baffled friends, wild, brown eyes way too happy over his self-deprecating comment–“do I look like someone who would suddenly write an A+ paper in a course I’ve failed twice?”
After a few solid seconds, you sighed and resigned to his request, before clarifying to the fist-pumping man, “Forcing me to downgrade my writing in less than twenty-four hours will be subjected to expedited service fees.”
Besides, you needed extra money to get a new typewriter, based on the alarming number of essays you were cranking out on your current worn one. At this rate, you’d be able to get one of those fancy computers. 
Eddie barked out a jubilant laugh at that, lips curving upward as he said, “I’m only letting you rob me because that’s a clever charge I might start using in my business.”
You wondered if he still thought you were a clever entrepreneur or the ‘smartest nerd in Hawkins’ as you blankly stared at a scowling Ms. O’Donnell, feeling too stupefied to conjure some fantastical story–or excuse, in this case–that the Dungeon Master was accustomed to doing on a daily basis.
Because there was no way you were going to explain that your sleep deprived brain must’ve given Eddie the wrong paper right before classes started. That your tired mind–consumed with worry about the biology exam you had next period–forgot to double check the content of the writing in your hands before accidentally adding the wrong paper to the growing pile of essays at the end of your English class. 
Of course, he should’ve also checked the essay you had given him. Any of your other customers would at least perform a cursory glance before handing you the money. Still, you had to shoulder some of the blame for having been unusually careless at an activity that required the utmost discretion and vigilance.
But you’d never admit a mistake like that. 
“Please don’t report us,” you blurted out instead, ignoring Munson’s incredulous “Christ!” and exasperation aimed toward your implicit confession. 
Ms. O’Donnell pursed her lips, disapproving eyes considering your nervous figure and Eddie’s cursing one. You closed your eyes, clenched hands anxiously awaiting the verdict that would throw out all of the work you put in for four years.
Snatching the two papers she had returned earlier, she acquiesced, “I guess submitting that plagiarism report would be more painful than grading these papers and having to teach Mr. Munson for yet another year.” 
Right before you and Eddie could exhale a sigh of relief and utter an endless stream of thank you’s, Ms. O’Donnell raised one finger as if to silence the both of you. “But I have one binding condition, aside from the fact that you’ll never commit plagiarism again.”
“Yes, of course, I’ll do anything,” you pleaded while a weary Eddie muttered, “Well, shit.”
You realized you should’ve bit back your words after hearing the worst stipulation proposed in the history of Hawkins, and possibly all of mankind.
“You must tutor Mr. Munson in English for the rest of the year.”
_
“You’re late,” you sighed dejectedly, glaring daggers at the smiling culprit banging his black lunchbox on the library table, “again.”
“My bad, a…transaction took a bit longer than I was expecting.” He pulled out the chair across from you, ignoring the librarian’s admonishment of his not-so-quiet voice. Rather, his gaze solely remained on you, the puppy-like excitement on his face just begging you to ask for more details.
Instead of taking the bait, you pressed, “Where’s your copy of Frankenstein? You didn’t even bring a pencil.”
Eddie actually pouted at you before murmuring a phrase that sounded eerily close to ‘party pooper’. “I don’t even need the book, it was an easy read so I remember most of it. And I, uh, may have lost the pencil you gave me.”
You’re not sure what your bemused “Huh?” was a response to, but it’s enough to get him talking about the book with a passion you’d only seen whenever he rambled about the current campaign he was running for his club. 
“Look, there’s never shame in running away from your problems, but Victor’s reason for running is the shameful part. Abandoning your creation because he looks like a freak? The scientist is the true monster, if you know what I mean.” 
Eddie, folded arms on the table, inched closer to you, adding in a fervent tone, “But the best part? The creature saying, ‘I will be with you on your wedding night.’ Very metal thing to do.”
Though you tried your best to conceal your surprised smile, your face betrayed you.
It had only been a month since Ms. O’Donnell forced this arrangement on the both of you, and the first two weeks had been an absolute disaster. It was a good day when Eddie actually showed up to your thrice weekly one-hour sessions at the typically empty library. But once Ms. O’Donnell threatened to take away his club privileges if he received one more F on a homework assignment, a reluctant Munson began arriving five to ten minutes late, muttering how English was the bane of his existence.
The remaining fifty minutes would then be spent on trying to pull a restless Munson back into the world of the books you were trying to analyze. Sitting still was a foreign concept to him. Only three things seemed to occupy his mind at all times: Hellfire, his B.C. Rich Warlock, and “running away from shitty Hawkins High”. It was in those instances that you were convinced that nothing substantial ever came out of his brain, or his blabbering mouth.
But in moments like these, where Eddie enjoyed discussing the mandatory literature as much as he loved shredding his guitar or annoying the jocks, you realized his head offered more than just a placeholder for his untamed hair. 
Eddie Munson wasn’t a dumb dork, he was just a lazy one. 
And you could definitely work with that. 
“You know what? You’re actually right for once.” Sliding a loose leaf paper to a bewildered and blinking Eddie, you handed him a pencil and suggested, “So why don’t you write all of that down?”
“Dude! DUDE!”
Completely unaware that you were the dude in question, you closed your locker door only to startle upon finding a psyched Eddie beaming at you. 
“I have a name, you know.” 
“Never said you didn’t,” he quipped, now deciding to say your last name while you rolled your eyes.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” You pulled your calculus textbook closer to your chest, increasingly cognizant of the stares you two were getting from nearby students.
Aside from the teacher who decided to punish you in the first place, only three other people knew about the tutoring ordeal. To explain why you’d be absent for at least three hours a week after school, you kept your two friends, Maggie and Christopher, and the other editor-in-chief of the Weekly Streak, Nancy Wheeler, in the loop.
And while you didn’t think you were someone who concerned themselves with popularity and image at Hawkins High, you shuddered at the rumors already formulating in everyone’s head.
Spreading gossip that tried to piece together why a straight-A student would be talking to a drug dealer like Eddie “The Freak” Munson.
If Eddie noticed your stiffened shoulders and nervous glances he didn’t mention it, instead raising a piece of paper as he smugly said, “Just look at this.”
The first thing you saw was the big, red ‘C-’–a grade that occasionally appeared in your nightmares–on a Frankenstein pop quiz. 
“Holy shit,” you gasped, taking the quiz from him to scan his sloppily written answers, temporarily forgetting all worries as a triumphant Eddie grinned at your widening eyes. In fact, you were shocked to find yourself agreeing with Ms. O’Donnell’s ‘Not Bad!’ comment underneath the grade. “You passed!”
“Hell yeah I did! Told you it was an easy read.”  
“Alright, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, there.”
It took a surprising amount of self restraint to not laugh at Eddie feigning hurt as he gripped his chest. “Must you wound me so? Don’t you torture me enough?”
“Apparently not, since your ego got so inflated with just one passing grade.” To soften the blow, you offered a small smile. “But this is progress. How about we call off today’s session, to celebrate?”
Eddie perked up at that. “Seriously?”
You shrugged before handing him back the quiz, avoiding any brushing of fingers in such a public setting. Even though most students seemed to have returned to their own conversations and tasks, it didn’t hurt to be careful.
“Yeah, why not? I’ll have free time for once. If Ms. O’Donnell asks I'll just say I tutored you during our study period.”
“Hey, maybe we should say that more often.” 
Just as you’re ready to reject his idea, Eddie claimed, “I’m kidding, sheesh!” before returning your smile, appreciation evident in his eyes. “But, uh, thanks. I owe you one.”
“I’ll remember that,” you muttered at his retreating figure, confused at the new wave of emotions replacing the jangled nerves wracking your body a few minutes ago.
Because there was no rational explanation as to why you were sad about canceling a tutoring session with Hawkin’s most pathetic dork.
None at all.
“They said you were trying to get stoned with the freak.”
Maggie’s appalled tone made you cackle, covering your mouth with your hand when her eyebrows narrowed, as if waiting for your side of the story.
“Don’t tell me you actually believe that rumor, I’d never get high in the middle of a school day,” you sighed, shifting your gaze to which drink you should choose from the convenience store. “Especially since I almost got expelled for breaking another school rule just two months ago. I think I learned my lesson.” 
“The thing is, I don’t know what to believe in lately.” Maggie called for your name, exasperated when you opened the fridge door to grab a Coke instead of paying attention to her. “You barely hang out with us anymore.”
“Not true!” supplied your savior Christopher, who popped in from the snacks aisle and wrapped a comforting arm around your shoulder. “You’re just upset we missed your pom-poms routine last week.”
“It’s called cheerleading, dumbass,” retorted Maggie, crossing her arms as she glared back at you. “And Chris was obviously playing on the football field, but you promised you would go.”
You winced, guilt evident in your next words. “I’m sorry, Mag, but you know I was busy with tutoring and the early action deadline. Since I mailed the application, I’ll see you next time.”
“That doesn’t matter, you’re going to tonight’s party with us!” Chris placed your brown fedora hat on his head before lifting his arm to give you a noogie, much to your chagrin. “Gotta make sure you know how to let loose before heading off to YALE!”
“Chris, stop!” you choked out, though relief washed over you after seeing his antics got Maggie to laugh. 
Once you got your accessory back from Chris, you quietly added, “I won’t hear from them ‘til December. And I doubt a school filled with that many nerds party a lot, even on Halloween.”
He grinned, blue eyes swimming with a mirth that seamlessly fit the Danny Zuko costume he was wearing. “Your words, not mine. I’m gonna get some cigs, anyone coming?”
“Wait, Jason told us to get a six-pack, don’t forget!” Maggie dragged Chris further down to the alcohol section, her teased, blond curls bouncing with each step as you wondered how she effortlessly moved in those leather pants. 
“I’m gonna pay for my stuff,” you told them, preferring to let your friends play out their lives as Danny Zuko and Sandy Olson. (And before they started arguing on which brand to get.) 
Deciding to wait for them outside, you leaned against the brick wall of the 7-Eleven, taking a sip of your drink…
“Freddy Kruger?”
…before promptly spitting it out after hearing a familiar voice.
“Eddie, what the hell?” you shouted, miffed by his loud cackling as you tried to assess the damage on your red and green striped sweater.
He stood up from his doubled-over figure, pretending to wipe away a stray tear. “I thought I was supposed to be spooked.”
“I left my glove in Chris’s car, but my nails are just as deadly, you long-haired freak!”
“Sureeee, I’ll lock the door to my van before I leave.” 
“I’ll get you long before then.”
Eddie’s lips curved upwards at the baseless threat. His eyes did a quick once-over, clearly amused. “Last time I checked, Kruger was supposed to be ugly and scary. This might be the first assignment you’ve ever failed.”
You felt your face warm, unsure how to process those words. Was that a compliment? An insult? 
Both?
Not wanting to reveal your short-circuiting, you countered, “And what are you supposed to be? At least I’m somewhat creative.”
As if on cue, Eddie dug around the pockets of his leather jacket and put on circular shades, animatedly raising both of his arms to show off his rings and black-painted fingernails while he bellowed, “Ozzy, of course!”
Although you rolled your eyes, you couldn’t help but softly chuckle, deeming his costume as “Very metal” before he asked why you’re dressed up.
“No offense, but you don’t seem like the going-out type. And on a Thursday night?” He covered his gaping mouth with his hand, gasping, “How scandalous!”
Shrugging, you leaned back against the wall, looking at the man next to you. “I don’t go out as much as Maggie and Chris, but I guess it doesn’t hurt to do it once in a while.”
“Respect, no judgment here. And Halloween’s a classic.”
“Right?” you agreed, smiling with Eddie. “But I’m kinda bummed that as you grow up, you trade in king-sized candy bars for cheap beer.”
Eddie lowered his shades as you saw him grab more items from his seemingly infinitely large pockets. “Hey, I know you’re the one who’s teaching me English Lit, but I thought I taught you about forced conforming.”
Just as you were about to ask what the hell he was ranting about, Eddie grabbed your hand and placed a long, rectangular bar on your palm.
Trying your best to ignore his warm touch that made your chest constrict, you laughed at the Snickers bar in front of you as you snorted out a thanks.
“It’s nothing,” he casually dismissed, right before you swiftly snuff out the recently lit cigarette he just placed in his mouth. 
Aghast, he pouted, “That’s how you repay me? You monster!”
“The real monster is lung cancer, you dork, it’s for your own good.” As consolation, you gave him your Coke can, “which might also cause cancer, but at least it’s not lung cancer.”
Eddie laughed, though you weren’t able to hear his jest over Maggie’s yelling of your name.
“Sorry, gotta go.” Brushing off your pants, you slowly began to walk your friends who finally found you and urged you to hurry up.
Yet that didn’t feel right.
Inhaling sharply, you quickly turned around and mustered the courage to ask, “Why don’t you come to the party tonight?”
You wish you were able to see his eyes, covered by those ridiculous shades. But his dramatic head tilt spoke enough. “Me? Going to Jason’s party to hang out with the popular kids? Sounds like it goes against my own personal Munson doctrine.”
“But you’d be hanging out with me. I swear I’m a bit more fun than them, at least enough to be an exception to your little principles.”
“I don’t need any assurance on that,” he said, an almost sad-like smile on his face. “Maybe I’ll stop by after my gig.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” You gave a small wave before running toward Chris and Maggie, the latter instantly questioning why you were talking to Freaky Munson as soon as Chris drove out of the gas station.
“That’s not Eddie, that’s Ozzy,” you replied, unwrapping the Snickers bar and taking a bite out of it to hide your smirk.
“Who?” Her nose wrinkled, as if trying to sift through the pages of the student yearbook in her head. “Is he a senior?”
Chris chuckled knowingly as you cheekily answered, “Yeah, he’s coming to the party tonight.”
You wished the lie didn’t include that part, hating the sinking feeling in your stomach when Ozzy was nowhere to be found in Jason’s crowded house.
“I freaking love this book,” was a phrase you never thought you’d hear come out of Eddie’s mouth. “But Ms. O’Donnell assigning an essay right before Thanksgiving is pure evil.”
You snickered, way too entertained at the sight of Eddie repeatedly banging his head against his copy of Brave New World. “If you love it so much, then writing five pages on it shouldn't be too bad.”
He lifted his head to look at you, tangled hair masking the disbelief painted across his face. “I’m 95% certain you and Ms. O’Donnell are Mustapha Mond, trying to restrict my free will and deprive me of true happiness.”
Though you’d never outright tell him this, hearing his absurd, embellished statements made these tutoring sessions feel less like a chore and more like hanging out with a friend.
Friend. Pairing that word with Eddie Munson felt like an abstract mathematical concept your confused mind was trying to comprehend; you doubt it would sound less foreign if you were to actually say it to him. 
But there was no doubt that these sessions were a lot more fun than in the beginning of the year. When Eddie realized that he would be granted five (more like ten) minutes of non-academic chatting in exchange for five minutes of work, he tried putting effort in his brainstorming or writing. He might even work a bit harder when it was a sci-fi or fantasy book, the only two genres he truly liked. 
And talking with him oddly felt natural. 
He let you vent about the pressure you felt from your parents to be the perfect student and child, despite the fact that they were hardly home. In turn, he disclosed his own current gripes. (“Tell me about it, my uncle keeps on fussing about me making a mess and using up all the hot water. You know, I should get a place of my own.”) 
And he heard your fears on how all the money you saved from odd jobs and your writing services wouldn’t be enough for college, since your well-off parents decided that bestowing such a financial responsibility to you ‘builds character’. (“Not cool for your parents to do. What’s the point of being rich then? College is a scam, anyway. And you want to go to law school? You really like school, don’t you?”)
He sympathized with your complaints on Maggie’s inability to confess her crush to Chris... (“I’m afraid Sinclair is slowly turning to the dark side, he mentioned something about joining the basketball team.” A pause. “You wouldn’t want to be his Hellfire sub this Thursday, by any chance? No? Well, uh, that’s unfortunate. Your loss, really.”)    
…Or listened to your frustration about Nancy choosing Fred Benson over George Davis as the Managing Editor for the Weekly Streak. (“Wheeler did what? I’m sorry, but I have no freaking clue what you’re talking about.”) 
And you actually enjoyed the constant mindless spats with him; whether it’d be better to be a book nerd or a D&D nerd (you obviously won that argument); how vapid the jocks were (you loved Chris and some of his football friends, but basketball captain Jason was definitely an example of all brawn but no brain); or which alien movie was the best (he claimed that Ripley’s badassery was one of best highlights in Alien while you swore by the perfect mix of intelligent characters and the right amount of horror in The Thing).
Ironically enough, your favorite parts always revolved around book discussions. Though these tutoring sessions were required by Ms. O’Donnell, it was surprisingly fun to hear Eddie’s opinions. They weren’t like the contrived contributions you had heard countless times from your classmates during discussions and presentations. Sure, they were far from articulate, but what genuine, spontaneous thought was? 
With each idea you felt like you were getting to know more about Eddie and his perspective on life, an outlook so different from others that you continued to be intrigued.
“Well, I’m not sure if Mustapha Mond is the best comparison, considering that the World State would shock their babies if they even touched a book,” you responded. “If anything, I feel like I relate more to Helmholtz’s struggle to express his intense feelings in a society devoid of such emotion.” 
Leaning your head against your palm, you smirked as you imagined the gears furiously turning in Eddie’s head.  
“Ah, so you agree that there’s no free will in their society?” he spoke after a solid minute, finger extended toward you as if in a ‘gotcha’ moment. “If you don’t fit in or conform to your stupid caste, you’re either forced to leave or you end up dying like good ol’ Johnny boy because you’re so miserable. You call that happy?”
“Free will and happiness aren’t always linked, though. Because of soma, most of society was happy with their position–”
“Because they were ignorant. Does that make them truly happy?”
“Well, how would you define happiness?”  
Eddie scoffed as if you were asking him what color the sky was. “The freedom to be yourself and not care what others think. Why, you think differently?”
You mulled the question in your head, before concluding, “I’m not sure. I just know when I’m happy, I’m not in pain and everything feels stable around me.”
“That sounds like you’re content, which isn’t happiness,” Eddie countered. His intense gaze made you uneasy, brown eyes indecipherable. “Don’t you want more than that?”
“Of course I do,” you said, rather defensively, “but we’re not getting that in Hawkins.”
“And you think you’ll get it at that pretentious college with students that are worse than the rich douchebags in this town?”  
“Yes, because Yale,” you corrected, “has one of the best English departments in the country. I would be able to take so many courses in creative writing! Hawkins has the Hawkins Post. ”
Eddie scratched his head, suspicious eyes narrowed as he questioned, “I thought you wanted to major in Political Science?”
You faltered for a second, astonished he even remembered that. Did he see through your facade?
“R-right, that’s what I meant. I doubt law schools would care, anyway. I’d still meet teachers and friends who’d respect and support my dream of being a lawyer.”
“But why do you still care so much about what others think? To conform to their mindset?” he pressed on, irritation starting to gnaw at you. 
“Because, unlike you”–you rose from your seat, packing up your things as you averted his gaze and furiously whispered–“there’s people that I care about. God forbid I want to be normal and make my friends and parents happy. Your method of running away just creates more problems!”
“Oh, so you think I’m some evil freak?” He stood in your way, preventing you from leaving the library. Of course, the librarian wasn’t at her desk to intervene.
So you stared straight at him, jaw set as your hands tightly gripped the straps of your backpack. “You want the truth, Munson?”
He crossed his arms before having the audacity to roll his eyes at you. “The floor is yours! Clearly you think you’re smarter than me.”
“That’s not true,” you shot back, pressing a finger against his chest, “but what’s true is that you think the whole world is out to get you, when there’s people who care about you. Gareth, Jeff, Mike, Dustin.” 
You gulped, closing your eyes and dropping your hand from his chest as you whispered, “Me.” Opening your eyes, you looked at his dumbfounded expression as you finished, “People do care for you. But you’re too eager about running away to realize and admit it, you coward.” 
Right before his stunned self could say anything, you violently blinked away your blurry vision and asked, “There, are you happy with that answer, Munson?”
At least the one thing you were thankful for this Thanksgiving break was that you wouldn’t need to see him anytime soon.
“–and Chrissy’s upset that Jason’s been so focused on preparing for the season, he even held a practice today, on Thanksgiving!…I’m speaking to the void, aren’t I?”
You regained the loosening grip on your phone, a surprised “Hm?” leaving you while you sat up from your bed and untangled yourself from the telephone coils. 
“What has been going on with you? Are we fighting?”
“Mag, what, why do you think that?”
“Because I tell you my whole life story, and you say one word. One word!” 
“No–”
“See what I mean? If you’re angry at me, we can work it–”
“Mags, the only thing you need to be working on is telling Christopher Perkins that you’ve been in love with him for the past three years.”
“Oh, don’t bring that into this! That is low, even for you!” 
But hearing her light chuckle across the line showed she wasn’t upset at your daily reminder to get her act together. You laughed, too, before sighing at your own hypocrisy.
A whisper, almost too soft to hear it. “It’s the college stuff, isn’t it? You’re stressed about that?”
“More like I’m having a mid-life crisis at the ripe age of eighteen,” you complained, puffing your cheeks frustratedly as you stared at the ceiling. 
How would you even begin to tell her that Eddie’s words a few days ago still rattled you? That his disappointed face–as if he had realized his gut instinct was right, and that you were no different from the popular kids of Hawkins High–was seared into your mind? 
You questioned every single choice you made, pondered the motives behind your greatest ambitions.
Did you actually want to be a lawyer? Or were you enticed by the prestige and financial security that came from such a title?  
And why were you so hellbent on pleasing others? Why did the respect of your friends and family seem to matter more than your wellbeing?
Just as you felt yourself begin to spiral, Maggie’s concerned voice now a distant buzz in the background, two loud knocks made you jump from your bed.
“Shit!” you cursed, heart hammering out of your chest as you locked onto Eddie Munson’s sheepish eyes behind your window.
“Maggie,” you breathed, hoping she didn’t detect your shaky voice, “Maggie, dinner’s ready, I gotta go. Can’t miss my dad’s cranberry sauce. Happy Thanksgiving!”
“Wait a–”
Hanging up, you rushed to your window to open it, harshly whispering, “You have a lot of nerve showing up after all you said–”
“Can we have this conversation inside, I’m freezing!”
You let Eddie crawl his way to your bedroom floor, your body still fuming as you murmured, “That’s what you get for wearing a leather jacket, you dumb metalhead.”
Your anger then increased when a revelation dawned on you.
“How do you even know where I live? Were you stalking me?”
“What, no!” he whispered back as he stood less than a foot from you, just as annoyed. “The movies make this seem a lot easier than it is. But Mike Wheeler was nice enough to tell me you’re neighbors, unlike a certain person I know.”
“When would that ever be relevant information, you creep?” 
“Stop calling me a–”
You covered his mouth with one hand, using your other to make a ‘shh’ gesture.
When he made a confused sound, you simply mouthed the word ‘dad’ to Eddie. His comically-widened eyes would’ve calmed your heightened nerves if it weren’t for your name being called by a person whose ascending footsteps grew louder each second.
“Hide,” you urged as Eddie dove straight into your closet while you ran to sit against the headboard of your bed, trying to appear as collected as possible.
“Hey, dad.” You looked up from the book you were supposedly reading, smiling at the confused man who just opened your bedroom door. “Something wrong?”
“I dunno, you tell me. Why’d you scream bloody murder?”
“Oh, it wasn’t that bad. I got off the phone with Maggie and I accidentally stubbed my toe trying to grab this book to read. I’m fine, really.”
You caught his glance toward your open window and mentally cursed at your mistake.
“I didn’t know your room was hot enough to crack that open.”
“It just felt a bit stuffy in here,” you weakly supplied, tugging at the collar of your wool sweater while you cleared your throat that felt drier than sandpaper. “Maybe I should’ve worn less layers.”
“Right…I’m going back to the turkey, should be done in an hour.” He pursed his lips, before gravely adding, “If anyone breaks in, just holler again. I’ll bring out the shotguns in the living room.”
Sighing after the bedroom door shut, you felt your frustration toward Eddie slowly chip away as he shyly peeked his head out of your closet, a mixture of fear, concern, and skepticism in his eyes as he asked, “Shotguns? Plural? In your living room?”
“You’re safe,” you assured him as he began to look around your room, “but why the hell are you here?”
“You have a lot of books,” he muttered instead, eyes continuously flitting to a new growing pile out of the many haphazardly distributed in your room. “Like, a lot of them.”
���Munson…” 
He noisily peered at the cassettes next to the Walkman that laid on your desk. “Big Fleetwood Mac fan. No surprise there.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
It was almost as if he knew his teasing grin would dissipate some of your anger. “What do you think it means?”
That you had better taste in music than he did. The snarky reply never left your mouth, though you could vividly imagine his over-the-top response that would’ve followed—how his affronted gasp would be paired with him banging the library table in false indignation, desperately trying (for the umpteenth time) to convince you to listen to Judas Priest.
But you two weren’t at the library, and this was no time for banter.
“Eddie…”
“I know, I know, I’ll stop skirting around, just gimme a minute.” As if to give you space, he opted to sit in your desk chair. 
After an awkward silence of averted glances and hand wringing, Eddie prefaced, “I’m sorry for the shit I said on Monday. It was crazy and unnecessary. I don’t know what came over me.”
“It was crazy, and it hurt.” You played with the sleeve of your sweater, unsure of where to start yourself. “But I was also mean, and I’m sorry for that. At least you were right about a few things.”
His knitted eyebrows displayed his lack of understanding. “Right about what?”
“I don’t know what I want to do in my life,” you confided, laughing at the instantaneous relief you felt after sharing the haunting thought aloud. 
You brought your knees to your chest, sending Eddie a quivering smile. “I’ve spent eighteen years of my life constantly pleasing everyone around me, thinking I’d be a burden if I did otherwise. Constantly afraid of failing, not meeting their expectations.”
“You haven’t failed them.”
“But I’ve failed myself.” 
Eddie shook his head, standing from his seat before balking at the empty spot in your bed. When you nodded, he quietly sat across from you, his face the most solemn you’d ever seen him.
“Look, I’m sorry if I made you think you had to have all of life”—he gesticulated wildly, large, brown orbs matching the madness—“figured out. But no one knows what the fuck they’re doing. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. So if someone tries to plan out every single part of your life, fuck them! What authority do they have?”
“And you don’t need to take life advice from a dude who has flunked high school twice…” Eddie nervously twisted the ring on his index finger before giving you a genuine grin. “…but you have time to get it all sorted out. Hey, maybe you’ll get some help from that fancy ass school that will definitely accept you because they’d be stupid not to. And even if they don’t, I know whatever you do will be a hell of a lot better than what most people in this town accomplish.”
You blinked at Eddie, once, two, three times. You then offered the smallest of smiles, not confident that your tightening chest and the lump in your throat would allow you to say anything.
So you hugged him instead, an admittedly awkward embrace with your arms around his neck as you buried your face into his shoulder. But the odd combination of pine, cigarettes, and cheap cologne consumed all your senses, your overactive brain forgetting everything else as it now focused on one thing.
One person. 
“You need to stop smoking,” was the first thing you said after a few minutes of comfortable silence, voice muffled as you directly spoke into his vest.
Soft, fluffy hair tickled your cheek while you felt the deep laughter reverberating from his chest. 
The arm around your waist briefly tightened. “Maybe that’ll be my New Year’s resolution.”
“No, your first resolution should be to finally graduate.”
“‘86 will be my year, I feel it in my bones.”
“Didn’t you say that with ‘85 literally two months ago?”
“I was full of shit back then. That was before I got my first C- in Ms. O’Donnell’s.” He gingerly lifted your head from his shoulder, cupping your chin as he said, “Which was thanks to you, by the way.”
“Not true. Since you actually wrote it.” 
His wide grin fell a bit, and you worried you crossed yet another line. 
His next words only increased your anxiety.
“If I ask you something, will you be totally straight with me?” 
You gulped at the abrupt shift, heartbeat erratic. “Depends on the question.”
He continued anyway.
“The other day, you said you cared for me. Did you mean that?” Those brown orbs imploringly scoured every inch of your face, hoping to find a sign that’d appear before your verbal answer.
He didn’t need to.
“Yes,” you whispered, voice so quiet he would’ve missed it if you weren’t mere inches away. “I meant it.”
His eyes softened, glancing at your lips before returning your gaze. 
Sharply inhaling, you began to close the gap, feeling your lips brush against his—
Before jumping for the second time today, releasing a startled gasp at the shrill sound of your ringing telephone.
“You should get that,” Eddie croaked, voice suddenly hoarse.
When he got up, you panicked. “I’ll get it later. Stay here, I can sneak you some dinner.”
He cleared his throat, fingers and eyes increasingly interested in fixing the pins on his vest. “Uh, I don’t know. I usually spend Turkey Day with my uncle. Chinese food, shitty beer, you get the gist.”
“Y-yeah, of course.” Your forced, tight-lipped smile made your cheeks ache. “Have fun.”
You hated the growing distance between you two. Hated how the incessant ringing punctured the now stifling air. 
He nodded and scratched the back of his head, an uncharacteristically speechless Eddie Munson unsure of what to say.
Bidding for an awkward “See ya later,” he exited your window, not privy to the spectacle of you screaming into your pillow. 
When the phone continued to ring, it was impossible to conceal your pure frustration when answering the call.
“Somebody better be dead or dying…”
“I told Chris!” Maggie exclaimed, who sounded very much alive. “And we’re going on a date tomorrow!”
Groaning loudly, you collapsed against your bed, Maggie’s bubbly voice fading into the background once again as you were on the verge of yet another spiral. 
“You like him, don’t you?”
“Who?” 
The way Maggie half-growled your name confirmed you weren’t going to get out of this. “You know who I’m talking about.”
Taking a bite of your sandwich, you looked at a wary Chris. “Do you know who she’s talking about?”
“I’m actually gonna get more tater tots,” he decided slowly, furtive glances sent toward the both of you before he practically ran to the lunch line.
“Don’t play dumb,” Maggie persisted, “not when I just saw you smiling at Eddie freaking Munson.”
“I mean, what he said was kinda funny. And true.” Jason’s comically peeved face after Eddie asked if the basketball captain’s singular brain cell still functioned now reappeared in your head.
“No one laughs at his ‘jokes’ unless you’re one of his lackeys.”
Your lips soured into a shape that was far from a smile. “So you’re saying I’m not just dumb, but I’m also a lackey?”
“I’m saying you have a crush on the weirdest person in this school!”  
The deafening silence that ensued was the nail in the coffin, but your next words truly sealed your fate.
“He’s not that weird.”
Maggie sighed, your brain unable to comprehend the simultaneous, paradoxical look of understanding and pity in her eyes. “You’re in deep, aren’t you?”
She wasn’t the first one to tell you that. After all, you’d read plenty of Austen and Brontë novels to know the reason behind your dysfunction. 
It wasn’t that you were embarrassed to have feelings for Eddie Munson. You were mortified that–
“It’s that obvious?”
Especially after what had (almost) happened on Thanksgiving. Those few minutes were all it took to open Pandora’s Box, releasing a disconcerting cloud of emotions that controlled your thoughts every second of every day.
Which explained why each tutoring session for the past three weeks had been absolute torture. A switch flipped inside you, heightened senses observing the smallest of details.
The multitude of shirts with names of heavy metal bands you’d never knew existed.  
The demon puppet tattoo on his forearm, which neighbored six tiny bats. (And you swore you once caught a glimpse of black ink peeking from his shirt, right underneath his collarbone.)
That slight furrow to his brow whenever he began an essay or homework assignment, which was quite similar to his ‘I’m on a writing roll’ look but also completely different. Or how he rolled up his sleeves whenever he was psyched, but mindlessly twirled the ring on his index finger when he was processing something.
Yet you also noticed the strange change in your dynamic. You initially attributed it to midterms stress, despite knowing Eddie’s lack of concern for exams, or school in general. One second you’d catch him staring at you, as if wanting to tell you something. Then he’d quickly raise the wall, attempting to diffuse the charged tension with some cringe-inducing joke.
It drove you crazy. 
“Uh, considering that you’re currently looking his way,” Maggie interrupted your thoughts, “I’d say, yeah, pretty obvious.”
As if he heard, Eddie’s eyes briefly locked with yours before his chortling friends seized his attention.
He drove you crazy.
“What do you see in him?”
His talent to tell terrible dad jokes. Some signs of intelligence. Way too much confidence. 
Kindness. 
“Why do you even care? You’d hate whatever I’d say.”
Maggie shook her head, placing her hand over yours. “I’m just concerned for you. He’s dangerous. And what would others think? Your parents? It’s social suicide!”
“If you’re worried about that last part, then let me make things easier for you. Goodbye, Maggie.” Getting up, you ignored her pleas to come back as you rushed to one of your safest spaces at Hawkins High.
Only to find someone else sniffling at the Weekly Streak’s editor-in-chief workspace.
“Nancy, are you crying?” You frowned, forgetting the reason why you were here as you gently questioned, “Wait, did you hear from Emerson?”
“Huh? No, not yet, I just think I caught a cold–”
“Is it Jonathan? I’ll kick his ass if he–”
“No!” she shouted, wincing at how loud she sounded before she laughed to herself and sent an appreciative smile your way. “I mean, everything’s fine with us. He’s actually visiting soon, for Christmas. But I appreciate your concern.” 
“Oh, that’s great! I’m so happy for you, Nance!” you exclaimed, your wobbly grin and teary eyes indicating otherwise.
Grabbing a few tissues, Nancy rushed to your side while she gave a reassuring squeeze of your shoulder. “Did you hear back from Yale?”
“Nah, I’m in the same boat as you,” you grumbled at remembering yet another lurking stressor.
“Then whose ass do I need to kick?”
“Let me write a list,” you deadpanned, though Nancy found it far from funny. 
“I’m just so stressed, and tired.” Throwing out your used tissues, you leaned against the desk and sighed, “So, so tired.”
“Midterms?”
You barked out the ugliest laugh. “I wish! That’s easier to understand than Eddie Munson.” 
Mentally cursing at your blunder, you rushed to fix the mistake. “Like, how many times do I have to tell him that Frankenstein is the scientist, not the monster?”
“Right,” said an unconvinced Nancy, her eyebrow raised as she innocently added, “So is that why you tutored him on Thanksgiving?” 
Everything in your body ceased to function, save for your dry mouth that tried to ask her–
“How?” she said, the wry twist to her lips showed she was enjoying this too much. “I was going to keep it a secret, but it’s not everyday you see a man spending over half an hour climbing a tiny tree and spending even longer getting down from it.”
“Oh my god,” you wheezed, tears pricking your eyes while your body shook from uncontrollable laughter. “He is such a loser.”
Unsure of how to soothe you, Nancy enveloped you into a tight hug. “Mike agrees. I don’t know what happened to the two of you that night but ever since then he’s been in a weird mood. Something about making a campaign much harder?”
“Stop lying, Wheeler.”
Breaking the hug, she firmly placed her hands on your shoulder as she forced you to look at her. “You think I like hearing my little brother constantly complain about Dragons and Dungeons?”
“It’s Dungeons and Dragons,” you corrected meekly, afraid that those words would be your last.
Nancy’s eye twitched as her grip on your shoulder tightened to an almost painful degree. “Please know that I say this because you’re my friend, but if you don’t tell him how you feel, then Eddie’s not the only loser in this story.”
“Today’s the big day!” exclaimed Mr. Benson, the mailman excitedly waving the envelope like it was a golden ticket. 
You wanted to hurl. Figuratively and literally.
Nancy’s gift of friendship not only included an absolutely inspiring and vaguely threatening pep talk, but she threw in a bonus side of germs that left you bedridden with a cold the entire weekend. 
Still feeling somewhat weak on Monday, you unexpectedly convinced your parents to let you take a sick day, knowing that at worst you’d be missing lectures dedicated to reviewing for your midterms.
Now every step toward Mr. Benson was tinged with regret in deciding to stay home, not ready to read the either exciting or crushing news.
His gloved hands gave it to you as he sent you a wink. “I dropped off Nancy’s as well. Fred told me he’s already prepared the article to make the announcement.”
“You’re both too sweet, Mr. Benson,” you lied through your chattering teeth, not sure if the trembling was due to your nerves or the frigid weather. But there was no doubt that the Nancy-obsessed nerd wrote only one name on that headline, and it certainly wasn’t yours. 
“Good luck!” he bid as he moved to the next home, allowing you to scuffle directly across to the Wheeler mailbox.
“NANCY!” you shouted from the top of your lungs, attempting to reign in the coughing fit you were about to go into. “NANCY, GET YOUR ASS OUTSIDE OR I’M OPENING YOUR EMERSON LETTER! Oh, hi, Mrs. Wheeler!”
The younger Wheeler appeared not a moment later, sharing an anxious glance before tearing open the envelope you gave her.
Though there was no reason to be nervous for her in the first place, finding yourself jumping alongside her mom and hugging Nancy before she even screamed, “I GOT IN!” 
And you probably would’ve continued celebrating were it not for her stabilizing your dizzy body and looking you dead in the eyes.
“Wait, you need to open yours! Should we call your parents?” 
The unopened letter stuffed inside the pocket of your puffer jacket suddenly weighed like a ton of bricks. 
Even if it was good news, you wouldn’t be able to do this by yourself. 
Which is why you shook your head at a puzzled Nancy, her bewilderment increasing with your next request.
“Do you think I could borrow Mike’s bike for a bit?”
“Fucking hell!”
About halfway into your freezing joyride, the burning sensation in your lungs painfully reminded you of your sheer stupidity in declining Nancy’s offer to give you a ride in her heated car. (You also made a mental note to take your driver’s exam before graduation.)
You had no idea what you were doing. Quite frankly, you hoped the bike ride would clear your head and make it easier for you to choose your next course of action.
But the closer you got to your destination meant the farther you were from turning back. 
So you peddled even harder, whizzing by the sign to the Forest Hills Trailer Park as you spent your last burst of energy. It wasn’t until you spotted a certain battered van that you felt your tired body buzz in anticipation. 
Because maybe there was a slim chance your plan wouldn’t fall apart.
Or at least that’s what you told yourself as you knocked on the door to the trailer before you. 
When no one responded, you took a deep breath before you pleaded, “Munson, please. I know you have early release on Mondays and Wednesdays.”
Deciding whether to knock again or head back home, the choice was made for you as the door finally opened.
“I’m not the Munson you’re looking for,” drawled a middle-aged man who was right in his deduction.
“Mr. Munson! Nice to meet you!” you squealed, wishing you could crawl into a corner as you began profusely apologizing to the man who was probably resting after a graveyard shift.
“No need, about to head out to grab some food anyway.” He studied you for a moment, as if piecing together a puzzle. “You’re his tutor, aren’t you?”
“What gave it away?” you laughed, surprised that he knew his nephew had one in the first place.
“You did, just now.” He lit his cigarette, exhaling smoke the other way before facing you again. “I thought the boy was coverin’ his tracks whenever he talked about goin’ to the library to see his uptight tutor. Good to know it wasn’t a lie.”
“How…nice.” You weren’t sure what irked you more: Eddie Munson calling you uptight or his uncle being able to immediately identify you through that descriptor.
“My nephew uses all our hot water washin’ that hair of his. But he should be done showerin’ soon, feel free to stay warm inside.”
It was a nicer welcome than the one you received from the younger Munson, who clutched his chest and screamed “JESUS H. CHRIST!” when he walked out of the bathroom and saw you.
A joke was on the tip of your tongue, ready to poke fun at the intimidating metalhead cowering in fear. But you felt yourself freeze when he hesitantly said your name, oddly shy with all of his attention on you.
Having a crush was so unnerving. 
He slowly approached the couch you currently sat on before harshly rubbing his eyes, still not believing what he was seeing.
“Stop acting as I’m some ghost, you dork.”
No response, just a suspicious glint. He broke the uncomfortable silence when he poked at your shoulder, yelped, and realized you were, in fact, telling him the truth and casually in his home.
“I have so many questions.” 
“Nice to see you too, Eddie.”
“And you, uh, look and sound like shit,” he continued, a line that would’ve made you slap him if it weren’t for the concern in his voice. “So Ms. O’Donnell wasn’t lying about you being sick. Do you want water or something?”
“Well, at least I don’t have a hole in my shirt,” you lamely pointed out, hoping he didn’t catch your eyes lingering on his biceps. This was the first time you’d seen him wear a short sleeve t-shirt–Iron Maiden merch, no surprise there–and holy shit, was that a new tattoo?
“And water would be great,” you whispered, trying to swallow the new lump in your throat as you exercised great strength to stop admiring his inked arms in that tiny, black shirt. “I hate feeling this thirsty.”
“I’m only ignoring the slander because you’re sick. Even Gollum has seen better days than you.” 
“I have no idea who or what a Gollum is, but I’m still offended.”
His face split into a wolfish grin, mischievous eyes twinkling as he half-sang, “What you don’t know won’t hurt you!”
As he went to the kitchen to fill a glass with water, you then caught his perplexed expression from the counter. “But speaking of being lost as hell, how’d you even get here?”
“Address or vehicle wise?”
“Uh, both, I guess?”
He plopped himself on the opposite side of the couch after handing you the cup, your fingers grazing his ring-cladded ones for what seemed like a second too long. Not trying to dwell on how touch-starved you were, you threw your head back and downed the water in one swoop, ignoring Eddie’s sarcastic, “Lemme pour myself a vodka shot, too.”
“Nancy gave me the address and I may have borrowed Mike’s bike.”
“How did that answer everything but nothing?”
Then a beat later. “Hold on, you biked all the way here in the freezing cold while having a cold? Are you insane?”
“Mike’s odometer said it was only seven miles.” You winced at Eddie’s high-pitched repetition of the number.
“Man, so maybe you wouldn’t design the most intelligent character in the Dungeon…”
“Hardy har har. I didn’t come all this way to play in your little campaign.”
“Care to share the real reason why you’re here, then?” 
You laughed–of course Eddie would ask the most important question last rather than first.
Fishing out the item from the pocket of your jacket, you answered by showing him the envelope.
“Well, shit.” He whistled and gently grabbed the wrinkled paper when you nodded for him to take it. 
“Shit, indeed.”
Eddie’s eyebrows knit into one when he saw the envelope was still sealed. “Why haven’t you opened it yet?”
“I can’t,” you replied honestly, hands fidgeting as you felt the nausea return. “I’ve been waiting so long for this, but I’m fucking terrified.”
“So you’re never gonna open it?”
“Maybe”–you smiled sheepishly, your next jumbled words sounding more like a question than a statement–“that’s because I want you to open it?”
“Me?” he squeaked out, eyes wide.
“And read it, too.”
“Are you sure this cold didn't also, I dunno, fry your brain?”
“Even if it did, you know how stressed I was about applying to schools. Am.” You pointed at the envelope. “You helped me even though you hate talking about college. Hell, you probably saw that side of me more than anyone else.”
“That can’t be true–”
“It is,” you interjected, grabbing one of his hands to squeeze it, hoping your face showed your sincerity. “I don’t want to open it alone, but the idea of reading the letter for the first time with my parents feels even worse.”
“I’m still not getting how I would make things better.”
“Because you wouldn’t judge me, Eddie.” Not when he’s been so supportive.
When he’s been there for you every. Single. Time.
“I’d be stupid to judge you.” He squeezed your hand back, though his softened eyes still held that hesitancy. “But are you sure about this?”
“100%.”
“Yeah, but, are you really that sure?”
“Hey, remember when I canceled tutoring because you passed your Frankenstein quiz? And you said you owed something to your ridiculously hot and smart tutor?”
He rolled his eyes but you still caught the slight twitch of his lips. “Something like that, yeah.”
“Well, I’m cashing in that favor now.”
Even if the dynamic between the two of you felt different after Thanksgiving, his excited grin and brightened eyes toward you never changed.
And the sweet way he said your name, tone hushed, as if in awe. How easily it rolled off his tongue as he softly told you, “You’re something else, you know that?” 
It was in that split second you felt incredibly tempted to ask him for another favor.
But you shook your head and laughed, trying to shake away any of those thoughts before you half-glared at him. “You’re one to talk. But please, please, read the letter, or the suspense will literally kill me.” 
“Impatient, are we? But I will say, it’s quite thick.” Giving your hand one last reassuring squeeze before he let go, Eddie began breaking the envelope seal. “They wouldn’t waste more than a page on a rejected student, right?”
“Ah shit, I can’t watch this.” You shut your eyes, hearing Eddie unfold the letter as he cleared his throat and read the greeting in a neutral voice.
He dropped that tone quickly upon reading the first two sentences, the dramatic shift providing such whiplash that it took your brain a solid minute to fully register the words. 
“Welcome to Yale College! It is with the greatest enthusiasm that I write to congratulate you on your admission to the Class of 1990.”
Tears welled up in your opened eyes, but you could still see Eddie’s toothy grin as he made you stand and jump with him.
“Oh my god, Eddie, the rest of the letter!” Yet your gaze only fixated on the elated man in front of you rather than the paper on the couch.
“Screw the rest of the letter! YOU GOT IN!”
Your excited shouts and laughter joined his as he began twirling you around and almost knocked down a lamp in the process, only stopping when both your voices became shot. 
“Fuck,” you coughed out, laying on the couch as you barely caught your breath and blankly stared at the paper in your hand. “I still can’t believe it.”
“Well, you better start. And we gotta keep celebrating.” Pacing throughout the living room, each finger ticked off an option from the endless list of activities you could choose from. “–a movie, or stuffing our faces at a diner, you name it. What are we doing next?”
“Mmm, how ‘bout a nap?” you yawned, an instant wave of exhaustion washing over you.
“Huh? Christ, I forgot you’re sick.” Kneeling in front of you, Eddie warned, “Don’t you fall asleep on me.”
“Your hand feels nice,” you pleasantly sighed at the cool touch of his hand on your burning forehead, further confirming his suspicions of a fever.
Consciousness was becoming increasingly harder to tap into, but faintly hearing Eddie say the word “home” briefly jolted you back to reality.
Your heart lurched when you realized he was carrying you, senses overwhelmed by the familiar scent of pine and cheap cologne mixing with a minty fragrance coming from his recently-washed hair.
“No, wait!” You weakly grabbed onto his shirt, whining, “I still wanna celebrate!”
“Next time,” he assured you. “I promise.” 
It was the last thing you remember hearing, the calming smell of mint lulling you to sleep.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stop by, even for a few minutes? Mrs. Henderson made these cute Christmas cookies. Well, they’re shaped like cats so maybe they’re not that festive, but they’re still really good.”
“Nance, I’m fine, really. I’m used to the parentals working in the ER on Christmas, saving and healing the Santas that have fallen off their roofs.” 
Holding the phone closer to your ear as you shifted on your bed, you could make out the faint laughter in the background and what sounded like Dustin recruiting someone for the Hellfire Club.
Laughing at the antics, you teased, “Sounds like you got a full house anyway. How’re you and lover boy?”
“We actually got into a stupid fight about him applying to Emerson.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah,” Nancy sighed, “We made dinner a bit awkward for everyone. But it’ll be fine, I think. How’s your lover boy doing?”
“Don’t call him that,” you huffed, face instantly burning.  
Besides, the last time you saw Eddie Munson was when you knocked out on his couch. Nancy thought otherwise, especially after last Monday evening, when she answered the ringing doorbell to the Wheeler residence and saw your calmly sleeping figure in his arms.
Despite her interrogation, Eddie only told Nancy that you were worn out from your biking escapade and that he left Mike’s bike in the driveway. After giving you and your decision letter to Nancy (“Don’t lose that, Wheeler.”), he apparently ran back to his van and drove away in his typical maniacal fashion. 
It didn’t help that you missed another day of school, spending the entire time sweating out your fever. Considering you didn’t recall any of this, and Nancy’s journalistic abilities in telling this story seemed compromised, you had hoped to talk to Eddie the day you finally returned to Hawkins High. 
Only to miss his chaos in the unusually quieter cafeteria, freshman and even seniors stressed about midterms and getting last-minute Secret Santa gifts. When Gareth–shocked to see you approach him and the others during lunchtime–had told you that Eddie was sick, you doubted that the metalhead wanted any visitors.
So you resigned to the horrible timing and focused on taking your exams for the rest of the week, immensely grateful for the start of winter break the following Monday.
“Nothing’s going on between us, I swear.”
“Mhmmm.” Hearing more indiscrete voices, Nancy giggled before saying, “Oh, how nice! Mike just said you could borrow his bike again if you wanna pay someone a visit. Maybe Christmas miracles do exist.”
How were you getting clowned by a fifteen-year-old? 
“You’re both insufferable.”
“I’m just fulfilling my duty as a journalist and being honest.”
“But I told you the truth–he’s not interested!” 
“Then why is he climbing the tree next to your bedroom window, again?”
You hung up the phone and ran before your body could tell you to stop, opening the window as your face was hit with the bitter air and disbelief.
“Eddie!” you half-whispered, startling the man as he almost lost his grip. “What are you doing?!”
And of course he still had that leather jacket on.
“Christ, you’re not supposed to see this!” he panted, his frosty breath revealing how cold it was. “Gimme a few more minutes.”
Despite anticipating the oncoming headache, you couldn’t control the amused laughter that escaped you. “You dork, you’re lucky there’s no snow. Just go through the front door. My parents aren’t here.”
You swore you heard a “Oh, thank god” before flying down the stairs and opening the door for him.
“Hi,” he greeted–shooting you a stiff wave and a lopsided smile–as if he hadn’t failed in climbing your tree a few seconds ago.
“Hi,” you returned shyly, that tightness in your chest re-emerging. Quickly picking away the twigs in that ridiculously soft hair and trying to act as if it was no big deal, you let Eddie inside.
“Um, are you feeling better?” you asked as you led him upstairs, hoping you sounded more nonchalant than what you currently felt.
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that, considering you, uh, passed out in my arms?” 
You flipped him the bird before opening your bedroom door, scoffing, “I didn’t forget everything that happened that day. If I remember correctly, you promised to celebrate my acceptance with me.”
Letting Eddie sit next to you on your bed brought a sense of déjà vu that was getting harder to dispel with each passing second. 
“You’re totally right. Which is why I brought you something. It was gonna be a Fleetwood Mac poster, but I didn’t have the strength to buy it in public.” He shuddered at the name, a gesture that made you roll your eyes.
“You’re so dramatic,” you muttered playfully, accepting the weirdly heavy plastic bag from Radioshack that he gave you, a sheepish look on his face as he nervously scratched the back of his head. 
“I was gonna gift-wrap it but then realized that A) I don’t have anything to actually wrap the gift with and B) I had no time because I had to make-up my midterms two days ago.” Eyes widening as if he forgot something, he grinned and added, “Oh, speaking of that, I’m preeetyyy sure I bombed Ms. O’Donnell’s exam so I guess you’re still my tutor. Sorry.”
You pretended to shake your head disapprovingly–even if you tried, you couldn’t be mad, secretly happy to hear his rambling again. “You don’t sound sorry.”
“That’s because I feel more sorry for myself. Spending more time with you?” He fake gagged, his hands pretending to clutch his throat as he stuck his tongue out. “Ugh, a fate worse than death. I’d rather head to Mordor.”
“I’ll hit you and your obscure references with whatever is in this bag,” you teased, opening it as you peered inside. “What even is in this–”
You fell silent as you took out the boxed set of books, eyes scanning over the different titles written by J.R.R. Tolkien while your coy smile grew..
“You know, when I said I wanted to read The Lord of the Rings, I didn’t mean you had to get me the whole trilogy.”
In fact, you were planning on getting a library copy soon, in search of a new series to read. (And to finally understand whatever the hell Eddie kept on mentioning these past five months.) 
“The books are actually mine,” Eddie said quietly, hands fidgeting as he nervously looked at your face to gauge your reaction. “I also threw in The Hobbit, which you should read first because it sets the stage for everything but is quick to finish. And if you ever get confused look at my notes. Not to toot my own horn, but they’re pretty damn good. Sometimes even funny.”
“Holy shit,” you breathed, shocked by the myriad highlights and annotations across hundreds of pages.
In August, if someone had told you Eddie Munson read and enjoyed a series that was over a thousand pages long, you would’ve outright laughed at them.
Now, you could easily imagine him excitedly flipping through each page, listening to Megadeth and Dio in the background as he hunched over his messy desk and scribbled his endless thoughts, wondering how he could incorporate some elements to his next D&D campaign.
It was an endearing picture, one that calmed your frantic heartbeats as you were reminded of how you two weren’t so different. 
“Are you sure you wanna give these to me?” you asked, gazing into the warmest, brown eyes that belonged to Hawkin’s allegedly most dangerous teenager.
His cheeky grin already provided his thoughts. “I’ve read these books so many times I can probably quote it back to you. And I know once you finish these bad boys you’ll want to join Hellfire, so it’s a no-brainer, really.” 
“Only when hell freezes over, pun very much intended,” you taunted, about to thank him for the gift until a smug Eddie placed a finger on your lip and whipped out another item underneath his jacket.
Unlike the boxed set, this one was wrapped in newspaper, his intent touching you enough that you didn’t even think about poking holes at his white lie from earlier or at his shoddy craftsmanship. 
“I will say, that horrible pun made me consider whether I wanted to give this to you, but since I’m an incredibly nice person”–he gently placed the rectangular gift on your lap–“I got you this, too.”
Your forehead tilted in confusion and uncertainty, but you nodded and began opening the present.
“A journal,” you whispered in awe, admiring the intricate tree designed on the cover while your fingers appreciated the feel of your initials engraved in the corner of the authentic leather.
“Thought you would need something to write on for all those college creative writing courses you keep on talking about.” He shrugged impassively, but there was no way to hide the genuine gratitude in his eyes, the sincerity that followed shortly after. 
“And I want to thank you for all your help. And for not hating me because people think I’m a freak. You’re cool in general, but I guess not being a douche makes you a pretty good person, too.”
The number of times Eddie Munson had left you unsure of what to say were more than you’d like to admit. But this was the first time he rendered you speechless, brain unable to think of an action that would show how much his words affected you.
How much Eddie meant to you.
So you kissed him, ignoring the weird angle or the way your teeth clicked after pulling his W.A.S.P. shirt a bit too roughly. Ignoring his slightly chapped lips and the fact that you ate sour cream and onion chips not one hour ago. 
You kissed him, press after press of his lips against yours, climbing into his lap as your fingers got lost in his hair. 
He kissed you, one of his hands grabbing one side of your face while the other rested on your hip. Your head felt light, but you didn’t want to stop, enjoying the delightful warmth in your chest, addicted to the way his lips seemed to melt into yours.
Eddie was the first to break it off, allowing for your panting figures to breathe for just a few seconds before he instantly regretted the separation and dove back in, these soft and sweet kisses feeling more raw and open than before.
“Fuck,” he groaned against your mouth, hot breath tickling your face, “I wanted to do that for so long.”
You slowly leaned back, one hand against his chest as you smirked at the sight of his flushed cheeks and shiny, swollen lips. “I thought spending more time with me was a ‘fate worse than death.’”
Laughing, he pecked the tip of your nose before caressing your cheek, affectionate, brown orbs crinkling as he clarified, “You heard me wrong, sweetheart. Spending time without you is worse than death.”
“Ha, smooth!” you teased, amused as you raised an eyebrow. “And whipping out the pet names already? We didn’t even say what we are, you dork.”
Clearing his throat dramatically, he bowed his head as he finally asked the question.
“Would you do me the honor of being your boyfriend?”
Lifting his chin, you smiled into the kiss, hoping that was a good enough answer.
“Edward, slow down!” you screeched over the loud music, reaching for the roof handle of the van. 
Eddie’s chances of receiving his diploma from Principal Higgins this May were getting slimmer by the day, but based on the current speed an extremely excited Munson was driving, that chance was falling to zero for you, too.
The speedometer only lowered a sliver as Eddie scrunched his nose at the use of his first name. “Sorry, babe, but I’m still psyched after that show! We had a solid turnout.”
You recently started going to Corroded Coffin’s Tuesday gigs at the Hideout, and while they weren’t the best band in the world, you only had to watch a few shows before confirming that Eddie was a damn good guitarist. You’d even argue that seeing one show was sufficient to draw the same conclusion, but you could just picture Eddie’s shit-eating grin and constant bragging to his bandmates if you actually said those words aloud.
Proudly smiling at him, you grabbed his free hand and kissed the back of it. “The band’s best show yet. Told you people dig Fleetwood Mac covers.”
“Not as much as I dig you~” he sang giddily, wiggling his eyebrows at you as he slowed down to turn into Forest Hills.
“Ugh, stop being corny, Munson,” you laughed, affectionately squeezing his hand. Some of Eddie’s funniest moments came from the rush that followed after a performance, the man’s hyperactive brain rambling and continuously throwing out whatever joke or vague reference to see what would stick. 
The nights after concerts were also when he was practically bouncing off the walls, itching to release his pent-up energy.
Which explained why he was already peeling off your coat while trying to open the front door to his place. Why he tossed his own leather jacket aside and immediately placed you against the kitchen counter, knocking down a few items as he buried his face into your neck, hands dangerously inching up your thighs.
“Ed,” you mumbled, sighing pleasantly at the soft bite on a sensitive spot as your legs instinctively wrapped around him. “Why do we never go to your bed first?”
He raised his head, a mischievous look in his eyes as he roughly kissed you. Lips grazing the shell of your ear, he whispered, “But where’s the fun in that?”
A few tugs to his hair convinced him to follow your directions, shared laughter filling his bedroom as he gently threw you onto his bed. He wasted no time taking off his sweaty shirt and removing your top before leaning into you, the cold, metal rings on his calloused fingers trailing up to your bra and sending goosebumps all over. 
His lips ghosted yours before he breathed out, “You’re so pretty.” 
The comment made you smile and arch into him, his tongue entering your mouth right after you gasped at him unhooking your bra. 
He kissed you slowly, relishing your whimpers as he toyed with your nipples and shamelessly grinded against you, head too hazy with lust to care about the rough fabric of his jeans against yours. 
Closing your eyes, you let his hungry lips taste every inch of you, committing your skin to memory. For the first time ever you were grateful that the March weather was still cold enough for you to wear a turtleneck, the only way you were going to be able to hide the marks he so generously left on your shoulders and exposed neck. The loud, wet sounds of him gently sucking on the soft fat of your breasts caused you to press your thighs together, frustrated at how soaked your panties were getting. 
“Eddie,” you urged, breathless, fingers tangled in his hair as you guided him upward, foreheads meeting tenderly. You felt the low groan rumble from his chest as you told him, “I want more.”
You and Eddie weren’t necessarily walking into uncharted territory. After two months into your relationship, your intense make out sessions and roaming hands prompted a conversation about boundaries and sex.
Though neither of you were virgins (“Harrington?” Eddie asked you, his eyes practically falling out of their sockets. “As in rich boy, drives-a-BMW Steve Harrington? I’m competing against him?”), the two of you weren’t the most experienced. (“Oh yeah, I’ve been around…” Eddie started smugly, your unrelenting stare getting him to feebly rectify, “...uh, with two women.”) 
You both agreed to take your time, not wanting to rush things. Truthfully, you felt it improved communication between the two of you, Eddie quickly listening and learning about your needs. What you disliked and liked. What turned you off and what moves made you want to jump his bones.
The latter now a feeling that you were experiencing, your chest filling with a greedy desire as the discomfort in your legs increased.   
“Please, Eddie,” you pleaded against his lips, rolling your hips into his and enjoying the low moan you riled out of him. “I want you so bad. I need you.”
“Are you sure?” he questioned, bumping noses and placing a light kiss on your forehead when you confidently responded with, “I’m ready.”
“But–”
He instantly froze when you said that, hands that were ready to lower your pants now firmly planted on your waist. “It’s okay to say no, now or later. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
Fuck, that was sexy, biting your lip at his words. Smiling softly, you reassured, “I’m definitely ready. But no handcuffs.”
The tip of Eddie’s ears matched his bright, blushing cheeks. “You saw those?” he whispered, his sideway glance toward his wardrobe incriminating himself.
Rolling your eyes, you ran a soothing hand over his chest as you teased, “It’s the first thing I saw in this messy ass room. We can use it some other time, but not tonight.”
“Hey, I’m not complaining, at all.” He worked quickly on discarding your pants, giving you a chaste peck before starting a trail of open-mouthed kisses on parts of you he neglected before. “Just the thought of using them is hot enough for me.”
“You kinky bastard!” you joked, body tingling with excitement when he tugged off your panties and part your legs even further, but not before tightly snapping the waistband against your skin. 
“But I’m your kinky bastard.” That comment and a sloppy kiss on your inner thigh drove you mad, not even thinking it was possible for the wetness between your clenched legs to continue growing.
It hurt to swallow your moan, your eyes refusing to leave his as you impatiently challenged, “Then do your magic, Dungeon Master.” 
The only warning was the flat of his tongue teasingly gliding between your parted folds, a shiver traveling up your spine at the sight of his shiny lips when he sighed, “Fuck, you’re so wet.”
His tongue continued to thrust straight into your leaking cunt, slow flicks become more assured as he found a rhythm that drew out your loudest moans and the most forceful hair pulling. The heat of his mouth closing around your core made you dizzy, hips bucking from the touch as you brought him further down to that tiny bundle of nerves.
“S-shit,” you stuttered upon feeling two fingers inside you, writhing helplessly into the bedsheets as he continued sucking your clit like a starved man. The curve of his digits hit a deep spot that made your eyes roll back, breaths becoming shallower as the searing knot in your stomach tightened.
“Eddie,” you whined, aching walls clutching his pumping fingers, “I wanna—”
“Cum, baby,” he encouraged, and you almost did.
But your eyes flew open, animated hands directing Eddie upward and shakily unbuckling his belt as you begged, “Want you inside, wanna ride you. Now.”
His hooded eyes widened while nodding enthusiastically, flipping you to the top and helping you lower his jeans and boxers before he cursed under his breath.  “Shit, where are the condoms?”
“No time, just pull out” you stammered, fingernails digging into his biceps as you spared a second to ogle at his considerable length, the tip glistening with precum. Hard. Ready. Waiting.
For you.
You lifted your hips and sank down, immediately keeling over and whimpering at the way his cock buried into you. Your shaking body alternated between going up and down and rocking back and forth, moaning at how good it felt.
How good he felt.
“That’s it,” Eddie grunted, one hand steadying and holding yours while the other ran up and down your flushed body, mesmerized by the sight of your bouncing tits and the cute mewls that left your pretty little mouth. Stars clouded your vision as Eddie quickened the pace and slammed into your hips, the friction of his thick cock against your walls a sensation you both continued hunting after. 
The incoherent babbling began as soon as he rubbed your clit with his ring, the cool steel bringing a new wave of pleasure that washed over your burning body.
“‘M gonna cum,” you managed to cry out, his name and curses tumbling from your lips as you felt a tense coil wound inside you. 
You let go, eyes shut in bliss as a white, hot burst of pleasure flooded your veins, your numb mind drowning in a newfound sense of euphoria. Eddie felt himself teetering on the edge of an orgasm, chest puffing in pride and eyes darkening at your fucked-out face as he chased his own climax.
Flipping positions again, the bed creaked with every thrust as you sunk further into the mattress, the sounds of slapping skin became louder than both of your groans combined. Eddie swallowed your moan by clumsily capturing your lips into a kiss, the faint taste of your arousal on his tongue. 
“Christ, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered into your ear, voice so low you barely caught it. 
You laughed, your insides doing somersaults as his palm arched your back toward him. The new angle allowed his twitching cock to slip deeper inside your spasming walls as you held his gaze, watching his pants become heavier and rhythm more erratic. 
Eddie quickly pulled out after, your body already missing the fullness as he painted your stomach in warm, white lines. 
“Fuck,” he breathed as he stood on his knees, voice thick and jaw dropped. His heaving chest displayed all the tattoos scattered across his pale skin, entrusting you with a secret only you had access to. His sweaty bangs clung to his forehead while the rest of his tangled hair stuck out in wild directions, framing his face like a halo. Hypnotized, you drank the stunning sight before you as he grabbed some tissues from his desk and gently cleaned you up. 
Eddie Munson was absolutely breathtaking.
And you were so done for.
“Did you hear me?” he asked, breaking your reverie as he laughed at your dumbfounded reaction. He collapsed next to you, letting your head snuggle into his chest as he lightly stroked your arm. “Or did I fuck you too hard?”
You snorted, playing with the tattoo underneath his collarbone before kissing it. “Mmm, no. I was thinking about how you, Eddie Munson, one of the most disorganized people to exist on this earth, found tissues in less than a minute but forgot where his condoms were. Good to know you masturbate more than actually get around.”
“How funny,” he drawled, pinching your waist playfully and raising a shriek out of you as he tried tickling you. “My biggest supporter quickly turns into my worst enemy. Was the sex that bad?”
Looking up, you pinned him with a cheeky grin before nestling your face into the base of his neck, gifting multiple butterfly kisses into the sensitive skin as a peace offering. “No complaints from me. It was amazing.”
“Would you say it was mind-blowing?”
You shrugged casually, amused lips curving upward while you twirled a strand of his hair. “Yeah, I’d say so.”
“Perhaps even better than sex with, I dunno, a popular douchebag?”
“Eddie!” you guffawed, unable to control your laughter.
“It wasn’t a joke,” he pouted, feigning hurt that you thought so.
“So I’ll answer seriously,” you said, pecking him before resting your chin on your hands that laid comfortably on his chest. “Who am I currently with?”
He rolled his eyes but you saw the slight twist of his mouth, felt his soothing hand drawing patterns on your back. “Fine, I guess, you proved your point, my fair lady.”
“Damn right I did. You’re lucky I’m still with you after I found out who Gollum was.”
“Oh, not again,” he whined dramatically, “everyone looks like Gollum when they’re sick!”
“Except?” you pressed, head turned to the side as you listened to his calmly beating heart.
“Except for my insanely hot and intelligent girlfriend…”
Satisfied with the amendment, you hummed loudly, briefly noting his heartbeat quicken.
“...who I happen to love.”
Your finger stopped re-tracing the tattoo on his chest, wondering if you heard that correctly.
Slowly raising your head, you searched his anxious, brown eyes and cautiously asked, “Did you say what I think you said?”
“What, that you’re hot and intelligent?” he nervously returned.
“No, the ‘L’ word,” you encouraged quietly, a hand caressing his cheek. 
“Lesbians?”
“Eddie,” you slightly scowled, not enjoying how the fluttering in your stomach was about to turn into nausea. “The other ‘L’ word.”
The next beat of silence was the longest in your life, his warm eyes meeting yours before he muttered, “You got this, Munson.”
He cradled your face with the utmost care, thumb tenderly stroking your cheek while he said three little words. 
“I love you.” 
His fond smile was contagious, the joyous laughter spilling from your lips music to his ears.
Though nothing sounded better than you saying–
“I love you too.”
The kiss felt sweeter than ever, lifting you to a place you weren’t sure you’d ever reach.
This moment. This person. He was the true happiness you dreamt of.
His eyes lit up with a pure brightness when you told him that, both of you smiling goofily at one another while cherishing that rare, comfortable silence that few lovers had the privilege of experiencing. 
“Not to disturb the peace or anything…” Eddie muttered after a few minutes, struggling to stay awake in your intertwined arms.
“Huh, that’s a new goal for you.”
“...but since we’re on the topic of happiness,” he rambled on, “it would make your boyfriend immensely happy if you were to participate in his D&D campaign. It’s never too late to fight the Cult of Vecna.”
“You have guts, I’ll give you that.”
“So is that a yes?”
Chuckling as you closed your eyes, you relaxed further into his embrace while mumbling, “Mmm, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to check it out. If it makes my boyfriend happy.”
You heard his fist pump swoosh the air, Eddie kissing the top of your head before he exclaimed, “The happiest man on earth! I knew ‘86 was my year.”
Smiling into your sleep, you couldn’t help but agree with the dork.
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a/n: if you read this long ass fic then you're automatically my friend. i might write more parts featuring this pairing, i might not. i tried to write g/n smut but failed spectacularly so that's the next goal on my list. would love comments, feedback, or the opportunity to talk about eddie munson's shaggy hair and/or s4 pt. 2 theories. much love
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fanaticsnail · 21 days
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AAAAAAAA!!! The WIP list!!!!
I'm really looking forward to the dance series and Storyteller AU stories, I just really love how they're an analysis of the characters themselves as well as a fun AU ripe with fun dynamics.
I love the sound of Kissaphobic (I love the song and it suits Kidd so well) and Hanahaki (I love me some Hanahaki au).
Cooking with you sounds like a sweet slice-of-life/domestic bliss piece as well as an analysis of the characters which I just know you're going to knock out of the park bc you always reflect characterisation so well in every part of your writing.
Behavioural conditioning sounds so cute and fluffy
Also, may I suggest "The Maiden and the Selkie" by Heather Dale for the one shot? It's a fitting song.
(side note: I just realized that since in the Bear and the Bow Reader is an archer, and Shanks is trying to best her in archery, him losing his arm will either be at best an ironic moment down the line after they're together or a heart wrenching moment during the story and I'm scared. But also excited. But also scared. But mostly excited.)
Snaillll!!! Twice in one day? You spoil me!!
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I have a fair few Sapsorrow spinoffs in the works. Sir Crocodile's is the one I have been drawn to the most, which is fitting considering he's next.
The dance series, I only have three more: Shanks, Koby & Garp - but I feel like there's two more I need in my life:
Burn it to the Ground: Portgus D Ace x Reader
Despiértame mi Corazon: Donquioute Rosinante x Reader
The "Kissaphobic" was brought on by your ask way back in the day. Now that I've got a little taste for the burly man, I feel a bit more confident enough to handle an ask or two for him.
A hanahaki with KidKiller x Reader is going to be so much fun to write for. I never knew I needed hanahaki until I wrote a Mihawk for it. It's a grand ol' trope, almost as good as the 'one bed' or 'marriage for convince' trope 😩👌.
Thank you for your compliments about my characterisation, I try very hard to match their OPLA and AniManga auras alongside the vibe they give off in my head. Sweet domesticity is also a love of mine, even better with Mihawk, Law and Shanks -- three different types in one fic!
Donquixote Rosinante. Corazon. Big, tall, clumsy man who has his heart out in his sleeve. Please. He needs some attention. I have been meaning to write for him for a while now, and I adore him.
I will give this one a little listen to get myself in the headspace for that request. I love a whispy, spoken-word melody!
"The Bear and the Bow" was another request you made way back when! I have been wanting to write for it so, so much. How is Shanks going to shoot for her hand when he only has one? It's gonna be a fluffy, angsty, fluffy piece.
I always adore hearing from you, snail! My heart is with you with your hectic uni schedule! 🖤🖤
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inventedfangirling · 8 months
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bad buddy fandom getting-to-know-you meme!
ah finally after a gazillion years i've been able to get around to doing this after being tagged by the ever sweet @fiercynn , so lemme straightaway get down to it.
note: i consider "fanworks" to pretty much everything people create related to a fandom, including but not limited to meta/analysis/discussion, gifs, fanvids/edits/fancams, filk, fanart, fanfic, fan food, fan crafts, etc.
name and whatever you want to share about yourself
hello there, i'm a 24 year old gray-ace panromantic desi on the romance positive end of the arospec (im still undergoing the wonderful but also often difficult and long journey of discovering myself so this is subject to change :3), i prefer going by my username so i'm not sharing my name.
when did you watch bad buddy/join the fandom?
i watched bad buddy exactly 3 months ago on the 15th of May, 2023. i watched all the episodes all on the same day and i know the date because after finishing the show i sent a 7 minute long audio note gushing about the show to my best friend. i ADORED it that much. and that's where all of this started. i loved the show so much and the lack of people i knew irl who were interested meant i had to find other people in the fandom to freak out with. i kept posting one after another favourite bad buddy edit of mine on my twitter page, gushing about it, but i got barely any response and that's when i reminded myself that tumblr exists and i should get back on here. and that's how i made this account 2 weeks after i watched the show and voila here i am surrounded by people who are as crazy about the show as i am and i couldn't be more delighted about it :')
favorite ship(s)
patpran and inkpa ofc
favorite character(s)
i love pat with all my heart, the man he ends up becoming along the course of the show is one of my most favorite portrayals of any man ever BUT pran is my actual favorite, he is my baby, (somehow both) my elder and younger brother and my best friend and he has my whole heart. his love, his hesitance, his anxiety, his bravery, his dimples, his FOREHEAD, his striped shirts, his precious heart i would DIE for him no questions asked.
favorite episode(s)
episode 11. each segment had something for the heart, i adored every single second of it...the sheer volume of beaut quotes from this episode is mind blowing! ("being with you already feels like freedom", "i can be anywhere as long as i have you", "we have been happier a lot too", "thankyou for trying to make a silly guy like me happy..." "i wrote this song for him", "one man can't change the world, but this world can't change me too"), and the soft loving looks of adoration making me clutch my chest, but also there was the quintessential patpran banter and bad buddy humour and wisdom i LOVE this episode with all my heart.
episode 5 is perfection. it comes second for me, but that kiss will always be number 1 <3
favorite scene(s)
rooftop kiss, balcony phone call, episode 7 ending when pat comes to save the day and the play, episode 11 red shirts commitment expression scene, and the final credits and post credits scene
one thing you would change about the show if you could
i wished the gangs didnt bully eo or anybody else even in the beginning, i get it shows growth but still i wished that was shown differently. also i wish we got a conversation where they talk about the guitar. and while we're here i wish it was somehow longer, i could have watched ohmnanon be patpran for HOOOURS.
what are your some of your favorite fanworks made by other people?
traffic was slow for the crash years by @fiercynn aka the creator of this meme. i absolutely adored every single second of the fic. despite it giving me a WORLD of pain. all the pain made it more beautiful and everything was worth it in the end. like i said before you took a great thing and made it even better <3
every piece of art that @hereforlou comes up with. you are a GEM!
all of nanons gorgeous gifsets!!
same page video edit that even p'aof tweeted about. SO good.
enchanted (aka patpran's official song) and other patpran edits by this same SO very talented editor
mudhal nee mudivum nee - another beautiful edit but desi so its even better <3
this super clever edit of patpran to message in a bottle. it's an instant serotonin booster for me.
(if you create fanworks) what are your favorite fanworks that you’ve made?
you can hear it in the silence - bad buddy bet era fic (the only one i've written till now)
my bad buddy textposts collection
my pran and pat's growth posts
this post that took me 20 mins to write but is one of my fav things ive written about the show
my long treatise of bet era patpran that took me a week!
list of accounts (hopefully i haven't forgotten any) whose meta and analysis and brainrot i absolutely adore- @miscellar , @telomeke-bbs , @grapejuicegay , @aroceu, @dudeyuri, @dribs-and-drabbles, @dimplesandfierceeyes, @sharingfandoms, @waitmyturtles, @ranchthoughts, @lurkingteapot, @lurkingshan, @thegayneurodivergentagenda, @kenmakaashi, @absolutebl, @charthanry, @bengiyo, @mahuhumaling, @panickedbisexualwatchesbl, @jemmo, @patspran, @fiercynn, @midnightfreeway, @fierceeyesanddimples and a couple more im sure ive missed. it was {and continues to be} a pleasure reading their thoughts about the show (or any other show that we've mutually watched).
a song that makes you think of bbs (the ones in the show don’t count lol)
message in a bottle because of this edit
daylight cos of this edit
enchanted, because of the infinite edits we've got from it and if im not wrong pat ohm has acknowledged it too
and basically all other romantic songs in the history of romance i guess :3
alrighty then i think i'm done with this tag. this was a LOT of fun to compile <3
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bardicbeetle · 15 days
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hey. Hey. You got any analysis of the Lost Boys or thoughts on the movie to share? who's your favorite character in it and why??
@abalonetea
Analysis on the movie I've been many levels of obsessed with since age 14 you ask?
...this is going to end up undercut for length I can already feel it.
The Lost Boys is my comfort movie, my I-feel-like-shit-nothing-is-fixing-it movie, my I-can't-write-please-help movie and my go-to for when I am inflicting media upon a new friend. I know it backwards forwards, upside down and inside out, I own the out of print novelization written by Craig Shaw Gardener, I posted the original prequel script to fanfiction.net in the early 2010s because I found it buried in a forum post and wanted it to be easier to find, I have listened to every version of cry little sister that G Tom Mac has ever put out in addition to the entire stage musical he produced. The fic I wrote for it in 2011 is still on Wattpad and to this day for some fuck ass reason gets 1000s of hits per year. I have another fic for it on ao3 that still takes up brainspace for me on a minimum weekly basis.
I.
Honestly do not know who I am as a writer if not for this film.
It is such a huge part of who I am as both a fan of media and a vampire writer and as a horror enjoyer in general.
And it is undeniably, baked into its bones, queer as fuck.
Not just from the overt point of here is a film in the 1980s about men sharing blood, directed by an openly gay man, hands us platonic and familial and romantic interactions between male characters, who are allowed to hold one another, allowed to express emotion, allowed to exist freely and without shame I am--so very abnormal about this movie.
I'll be the first to admit it's not perfect by any means, it very much exists a time capsule of its era, but also, to momentarily put the bar on the floor, it isn't slur laden and full of take-backs for any of the emotional vulnerability like other things around then were (see: Once Bitten, which while unarguably very much more on the comedy side of horror-comedy, i'm going to put into the same category by virtue of Camp Vampire Movies of the 80s).
It hands us one of my favorite mothers of all time. Lucy Emerson is a treasure, she spends the whole movie trying her goddamn best to remember that she is stronger than anyone gives her credit for. That she chose to divorce an abusive man, pick up her two sons, and leave without more than signing the papers and getting out. She doesn't care if they're poor, she doesn't care if she could have gotten something from her ex-husband, she wants her boys safe and there is a very large implication that sticking around to do the whole song and dance would have ended badly. Lucy lives for her sons, she wants so badly to make the world easier for them than it was for her, she wants to be part of their lives and part of their interests even if she does not understand them, and I maintain that Had Max Actually Succeeded, it would not have been long before the Lost Boys themselves were Lucy's as much as her own two sons, and that would not have ended well for Max. Protecting mother, lioness, made to be underestimated so you are always caught off guard.
Edgar and Alan Frog are near and dear to my heart, these idiot vampire hunter children were just so very much what my brother and I were in terms of Making Up Games To Play--ignoring the fact that for these two it's real, not that it ever had been before the Emerson family rolled into town and Sam's brother got mixed into the Lost Boys group. Edgar wanting to be in charge of things and wanting to protect the people he cares about and the town he is too stubborn to admit he loves despite being what, 12? 14? Alan being quieter but just as absolutely ready to go "yeah we are totally experts at this" as his twin, the fact that neither of them have any idea what they are getting into. Dipping barely into the sequels territory (which...they aren't good. by any definition. but Edgar and Alan are the best part of them both) we get Edgar dealing not only with his perceived loss of Alan to half-vampirism, but his whole loss of Sam after having to kill him and I just.
Ugh.
NOW, dipping into the main event there is Michael, who spends this whole movie just trying to figure out where the hell he's supposed to belong at this point. He doesn't see any point in starting a new high school in his senior year, he doesn't want to upset his mother by just absolutely dropping off the planet, he cares deeply about his family and wants to help however he can because they are struggling for money. So what does this seventeen year old kid do? He starts picking trash up off the beach for eight hours a day. He gives that money to his mother under the guise of it being "leftover from christmas" because he doesn't want her to worry about him working. He feels so fucking lonely without the friends he left behind in Phoenix and he feels like he's too old to supplant himself into a new friend group in Santa Carla before everyone goes their separate ways after high school anyways.
Enter Star and the Lost Boys.
Yes, Michael is taken in by Star because she's beautiful and mysterious and he's a teenage boy seeing nipples through a tank top, but beyond that he sees in her, in David and the others, how self sure they all are of the decisions they've made. This group is all within his age, they're all living in a goddamn sunken hotel half claimed by the ocean, they have motorcycles like him, they smoke weed and eat chinese food and Marko keeps pigeons and Dwayne can skateboard and Paul is a music nerd and what the fuck how do they manage to seem like they have their lives more together as a group of teenage runaways than he does?
He's enamored with it, obsessed with it, the movie speeds up a timeline of something that does in fact happen over the course of a couple weeks, of him hanging out with them, slowly experiencing more and more symptoms of vampirism from the blood he drank the first night, unable to stop coming back, unable to really figure out what it is they have figured out that he doesn't, and hoping that maybe if he stays with them he will eventually feel the same confidence in his own existence that they do.
But couple that with the horrifying reality that he is becoming a monster. His younger brother is terrified of him, the family dog bites him, the horses won't go near him, he pulls a mouse out of a trap freshly dead and squeezes it like a spent juice box into his mouth, he is falling apart at the seams by the time David decides it's time to finish things. And that's what David wants, he wants Michael in a position where he is no longer lucid enough to resist once there's blood in the air.
And it almost fucking works.
I stand by my belief that the entire movie hinges on the beach party where the Lost Boys kill a whole bunch of Surf Nazis. The whole thing, the outcome of the final fight, the failure of Max's plan, all of it hangs on that one night, and whether or not Michael can actually manage not to give into the bloodlust. He does manage, obviously, he leans into the shock and fear and near throws himself out of that tree because he knows that if he doesn't, he will join the blood bath happening not ten feet away. He is starving and exhausted and everything in him is screaming that if he just gave in, it would all feel so much better.
But he doesn't.
He lays in the sand until he cannot hear any heartbeats left.
Lays there clawing his hands into the ground like if he can hold himself still enough then maybe this will stop being real.
Three of the four boys don't pay much mind to this, Dwayne Paul and Marko have slipped back into regular antics despite being coated red. Their faces have returned to normal, their eyes no longer brilliant gold rimmed red, they are laughing and shoving and having a good time.
But David is furious. He's quiet about it, he isn't loudly angry, something I think he probably absorbed from Max over the years, he tells Michael what needs to be done if he wants to stay with them, and then he and the other Lost Boys leave him there in the sand, burnt flesh and ashes drifting down to him on the breeze.
The thing about David is that he realized the night on the train bridge that he didn't care about Max's bullshit plan. He didn't care that he was originally going to feed Michael to Star. He is fixated on getting Michael to join them, not just for himself, not just to keep Star around, but also because there's a refusal to give up in this kid that has him excited, a stubbornness that he wants to break. It's the thing that eventually leads to his death.
ANYWAYS.
I think, perhaps, I have yelled enough.
Oh, shit, favorite character.
I think without any doubt it has to be David. Especially after reading the novelization, the comics, the original prequel script, he's just, he is such an interesting character and his motivations are so obvious despite how much he would appear to hold them close to his chest. He's a root character I can trace a lot of the tropes that carry over in my own antagonists to, and some of my protagonists as well.
double anyways, camp vampires from 1987 my beloved.
Thank you Katie <3
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sarioh · 3 months
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Hello Tumblr user Rio Sarioh! If you're bored; do you have a favourite book you like to talk about? What is it about, why do you like it? Or perhaps a movie or show of which you enjoy the writing? A fairytale? A poem?
Wow, creative writing. Any thoughts on that? Pretty swell, in my opinion.
Hope you have a nice vague nine hour time window and that your thing arrives in good condition!
HEY tumblr user tt04sty hope u r doing well and thank you for the ask. also my Thing has indeed arrived in good condition so thank god i didnt have to wait all day for it. to be frank questions about my favorite media make me feel like a deer in headlights bc for whatever reason whenever i get asked this i somehow forget every piece of media i've ever consumed or that has had an impact on me in any way and i don't know why. safe answer though is probably everything everywhere all at once which i know might come as an absolute shock to everyone (<- wrote a 16k word fic inspired by it) but generally just any media that is very Wacky and Surreal visual-wise but with a central theme of love and connection gets me really bad because i am very predictable and also a little pathetic. also as a gay asian living in the west with a very stereotypical asian mother you can probably understand why the movie had such an impact on me LOL.
also creative writing... i've only done one work of creative writing in the past few years and that was wind back the clock which i think about genuinely all the time. writing Character Study is the most cathartic and fun experience in the world to me and i prolonged publishing that for SO long because i just wanted to keep working on it forever. my writer's problem is that it takes me about 60 years to come up with an idea that i am captivated enough by to be able to put it into writing and actually stick to it for more than a day and that has only happened one single time in my 2 years in mcytblr. but by god i would kill a whole man to be able to do that all over again because i am regrettably a stem major and have not written an essay or anything else creative in years and while im enjoying it i do feel like im missing out on a crucial part of being a Person. i miss writing so much you have no idea. and i feel like the further i go into this Degree the more my Meta Analysis brain starts to rot and get replaced by Numbers and Formulas and Snippets of code. i'm losing my touch forreal
as far as other media goes... to be perfectly honest i have not been consuming much lately just because i have been very busy irl but i did just finish reading the red rising trilogy for the first time which was cool... also have probably watched about 200 hours of animal documentaries over the past few months LOL. actually on the topic of books i am going on a flight soon and will have a 9 hour stopover so if anyone has any book recommendations of ANY genre i would love to hear them. please tell me all of your favorite books i want to read them all
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vote-gaara · 5 months
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What are some of the cringiest things he's said
Y'know, I love Gaara so much. If he were real, I'd take a bullet for him - go to war for him, even. For him I have literally delved into the darkest depths of hyper-fixation and character worship that is definitely not normal, nor healthy.
And y'know what I discovered?
To truly appreciate a character to their very core is to look at them as a complex individual with both horrible flaws and outstanding feats.
And so I ask that you join me in absolutely lampooning Gaara for the benefit of character analysis, because although we love him dearly, he has said and done some truly cringe things that I, for one, love him for. So let's gooooo...
Cringiest things Gaara has ever said:
So before I really get into this, I gotta say that all of these things (except for one) have come from chunin Gaara. Now don't get me wrong, when I first read this series, I didn't think Gaara was cringe at all; in fact, I thought that his character "went hard" as the kids say these days (if they do say that), but as I've matured, and Gaara's character developed, I can look back at those early days and be like "oh...yikes....that was definitely a little cringe-worthy!" EVEN THOUGH when I was a teenager, I was thinking the exact opposite.
"It annoys me you'd lose control in a quarrel with children" and "You're a disgrace to our village" - Chapter 35 Okay, so this isn't really that cringe on the surface level, and it isn't cringy when Gaara is first introduced. In fact, Gaara seems kinda noble (though scary) here because he is stopping Kankuro from wailing on some kids he just met...But...In the context of who Gaara is, this is really cringy because it's so hypocritical of him, which almost makes it kinda depressing, too. It's clear that Gaara is labelling Kankuro a "disgrace to our village" even though it's Gaara who is carrying that burden because of how Suna sees him...Definitively a bit of sad projection on Gaara's part. Which, speaking about "losing control in a quarrel with children" Gaara literally becomes unhinged and blows an entire operation by "losing to a quarrel" soooooo... Also....Gaara...you're 12, and referring to children as if they aren't only like 5 years younger than you is a little funny (but kinda sweet too).
Any instance of "shut up or I'll kill you" directed at Kankuro Cringy because if you have siblings, you get it. You can say some mean things to your brothers and sisters while growing up together, especially over really dumb stuff, and then when you all mature and get older, you turn around and (hopefully) laugh about it later. Again this isn't really cringy in the moment, but definitely a little cringe when you know how the story plays out and the two brothers become BFFs. Also Gaara never acted on these threats, he was just doing it to bully Kankuro, which made a weird dynamic where Kankuro was both terrified of Gaara but also willing to still do and say stuff that always made Gaara threaten him. They're just both a bunch of squabblers, honestly.
"Bitter crimson tears flow from life-less eyes..." -Chapter 58/59 Not the whole quote, but man when I was a teenager, I though this was soo deep and cool. However, now I read that and it's just like: "awww....he wrote a...poem, I guess."
All of chapter 97 Where he's explaining to Shikamaru and Naruto a bit of his backstory while he's attempting to kill Lee at the hospital. This really isn't cringe in the generic "second hand embarrassment" way but more cringe as in wincing at something that makes you so empathetic that you have to shake it off. You can really tell in this chapter how hurt Gaara is, and how much self-hatred he holds for himself. I mean, even reading the chapter now you can tell how much in bothered him that he "took the like of a woman he would have called mother." He references it so many times and it just breaks my heart how much he loved and cared about Karura, even when he was lost. Then him talking about "needing a reason to live or he may as well be dead" just shows that he thinks of himself as a failure because he wasn't able to be the perfect military weapon for his terrible father. Just ugh...UGH! Kills me.
"To verify my existence" - Chapter 99 He says this to Baki when Baki asks him where he thinks he's going, and the statement just gives off hilarious "moody teenager" vibes.
When Gaara is spying on Sasuke during the Chunin exams (I forget what chapter) Essentially Gaara and Sasuke are having this really intense conversation about having a fight to the death over who can be the saddest person, when Kakashi is just like "wait, you're talking about some type of fight to the death???" I don't know... but Kakashi's line always cracks me up because one minute he's training Sasuke, and the next minute he's spectating two 12 year old boys swearing their life long rivalry and how much they want to kill each other, and I can just imagine Kakashi is thinking "why are all the children I know like this???".
Also, when Gaara is fighting Sasuke in the arena and he's being manipulated by Shukaku, he says some pretty cringy things, but he gets a pass cause it wasn't his fault.
Oh, and I don't think this is cringy, but Temari thought it was pretty bone-headed when Gaara asked "what are your hobbies?" to the woman he was supposed to marry in Gaara Hiden.
I didn't find that cringe, though. Just adorable.
Thanks for the question! I'm actually glad Gaara started off saying some pretty wild things, because it really show cases just how far he's come, and his growth and resilience is honestly what makes me love him so much.
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cf56 · 2 years
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Revisiting the Scratchansniff-Warners relationship
Last year I wrote an analysis of the Warner siblings' relationship with their p-sychiatrist, Dr. Scratchansniff. I outlined how their relationship progressed episode-by-episode in the original series and how it all inexplicably went downhill by the end. That post was more of an overview than anything really in-depth, and in the time since I've done some more thinking on this topic, and I think there's more to explore here. (epic Outer Wilds reference)
So, welcome to part 4 of "overanalyzing the Warners". Well, welcome to part 1 of part 4. This writeup became so long that I decided to split it into two parts.
Part 1: Scratchansniff as a character, why he sucks as a psychiatrist, and what he should've done instead
First, I want to really get in deep with the character and concept of Scratchansniff. The first surface-level thing you might notice about him is his really juvenile name. Everyone in the show treats it like a completely normal name, with the Warners nicknaming him "Scratchy", so if you watch the show it also starts to sound normal to you. This doesn't really have any deeper meaning. I just like to mention it because I find it funny reading and writing serious stories with a man named "scratch and sniff" in them.
Well, maybe it's not entirely meaningless. It does give some insight into what his character was initially supposed to be. He is a man who takes himself and his surroundings completely seriously, but he isn't a serious character. He's a normal, mundane person who finds himself trapped in a cartoon world with extremely absurd situations happening to him on a regular basis. I've seen him compared to Squidward in this way, and the comparison is extremely apt. They are both characters who take themselves seriously in a world that is completely non-serious, regularly interacting with other characters that have no regard for rationality or common sense. In doing so, they often find themselves actually acting more childish than the childlike characters around them, making a fool of themselves as they try to project some sense of normalcy on a world that rejects it out of hand. Their appearances are even quite similar, with their thin figures, big bald heads, and big noses. I wouldn't be surprised if Squidward was in some ways directly inspired by Scratchansniff.
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Now, there's a question I've been throwing around in my head, and I can't come to a solid conclusion one way or the other. Is Scratchansniff meant to be incompetent? The answer that immediately comes to mind is, yes, obviously. He does a terrible job with the Warners, after all. We'll come back to that later.
But I was watching the first episode of the show for this post. Besides the intro, Scratchansniff is the first Animaniacs character ever introduced. The first segment of the first episode starts with him meeting with his own psychiatrist, telling his life story. He says he was "one of the most successful psychoanalysts in all of Hollywood." He tells the story of helping countless stars on the Warner Bros. lot, and he clearly says he loved his job. The question can still be asked, though, are we meant to take him at face value? He's shown talking to Ronald Reagan, in his actor days, who tells him about dreams he's having where he becomes president. Scratchansniff writes in his notes- "Delusions of Grandeur, incurable". It's clearly just a joke, I know. But taking it seriously for a second, it seems like he did a terrible job at helping his patient. To immediately write someone off as incurable at the slightest hint of a strange dream, a dream that isn't even all that strange? If that's all it takes to make him give up on a patient, how can he possibly deal with the more serious cases?
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He continues, saying that the stars told him all their problems, their secrets, their pain. "It was so much fun!", he says. Ok, hold on. Is a psychiatrist supposed to take pleasure in knowing the secrets and pain of their patients? It seems like Scratchansniff may have been in the business for the wrong reasons. One might even start to think that he deliberately doesn't help his patients as much as he can so he can get more juicy secrets out of them.
Scratchansniff is next shown reacting to the moment the Warners escape the tower. I honestly haven't seen the first episode much, or at least not this part, so what I saw next surprised me. I was always under the impression that Scratchansniff first met the Warners in the 90's, when Plotz made him try to dezanitize them. But what is the first thing the Warners do when they escape the tower? Like, literally the very first thing? They race over to Scratchansniff's office and yell "Did you miss us?" Scratchansniff replies "I hardly even know you." He hardly even knows them. Which means he did know them, at least a little, before the 90's, before they escaped the tower for good. He goes on to ask if they know who he is, and Yakko immediately answers correctly with his full name and title.
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Scratchansniff had been at Warner Brothers for 50 years according to him. Quick math says he started there around 1943. It's known that the Warners did escape briefly on a few occasions between the 1930's, when they were locked up, and the 1990's, when they escaped. So, at some point during one of those escapes, the Warners met Scratchansniff, and they seem to have immediately taken a liking to him, as he's the first one they visit when they escape again. Was it just a chance encounter? Was Scratchansniff their psychiatrist before the 90's? No way to know for sure, but what we do know is that their relationship extends farther back than is generally thought, possibly decades farther back.
Soon they start their first session, which goes disastrously. And this is where Scratchansniff's lack of real psychiatry skills comes into focus. He is vague with his wording, unclear in his demands, and very quick to anger, even when the Warners are only being mild annoyances at worst. At one point he says that he will say a word and he wants Yakko to say the first word that comes to mind in response. And Yakko does it, exactly how he was asked to, but the only problem is he starts a little early. Instead of simply adapting to the situation and starting the exercise while Yakko's being compliant, Scratchansniff becomes furious, calls Yakko a "stupid kid", and throws him out of his office. What a great way to start a healthy, trusting doctor-patient relationship.
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He is at one point shown studying child psychology to help him treat the Warners. And I think this shows one of his major shortcomings- he's not a child psychiatrist. He treats the major stars of Hollywood. How many of those are children? He has no experience with children, especially toon children. He tries to approach things like he would with adults, expecting a calm and insightful conversation, when any child psychiatrist would know that doesn't always work with kids.
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So, back to the big question. Is Scratchansniff bad at his job? Well, I'm going to hit you with a cop out answer. You can interpret the evidence however you want- take it at face value or dismiss them as the clear jokes they are- but the truth is it doesn't matter how good of a psychiatrist Scratchansniff is for most people. For the Warners, he's an awful fit. He has several shortcomings in this regard:
He's not a child psychiatrist.
He's out of touch. Scratchansniff had been a psychiatrist for 50 years. Do you know how much that field changed from 1943 to 1993? They were still doing lobotomies in 1943. Regardless of how well he's kept up with the times, some of his techniques are surely out of date. Not to mention the fact that, yes, he's still practicing in 2022.
He had become complacent with his work and was extremely overconfident in his own abilities. More on this in a second.
He had too short of a fuse and was too uber-serious to see the Warners' mild annoyances as what they really were: just playful mild annoyances.
Scratchansniff sees himself as a super successful psychiatrist, and so does most of the world. I don't think he ever was- I think those are delusions of grandeur. I think Scratchansniff had an "in" with Warner Bros.- maybe he knew someone high up in the company, or maybe his mentor was the previous psychiatrist there and recommended him for the job. Once he got that job, a job he truly enjoyed for seemingly the wrong reasons, he never looked back. He never dared to challenge himself with any truly difficult cases. He never left his comfort zone. When the Warners showed up, they turned his whole world upside down. Instead of the calm monotony he enjoyed, now he had to deal with constant zaniness and three children who were a bit of a harder nut to crack than all of his previous patients. He resented them for this, at least at the beginning.
The main counter argument to all of this is that the Warners are simply impossible cases. There is no curing them, so how could Scratchansniff be blamed for failing to? I don't see it this way. Yes, the Warners are deliberately annoying and difficult. But they're far from impossible patients.
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The Warners are extremely intelligent. They are self-aware. Their only big problem is that they're poorly socially adjusted, as would be expected from three orphans who were mistreated from birth and never had a single trustworthy adult figure to guide them in their lives. Frankly, their problems seem to be fairly obvious and self-evident, even to an untrained layperson like me. Any psychiatrist worth their salt would pick up on this immediately and have a field day with patients like this. Scratchansniff doesn't.
The Warners aren't even that hard to make friends with. It's true that they closely guard their emotions with a thick shield of sarcasm and general mistrust toward human adults. On the other hand, it's been repeatedly shown throughout the series, original and reboot, that anyone who gives the Warners the tiniest bit of genuine affection will be instantly accepted by them. Frau Hassenfeffer, Flora Norita, Hello Nurse. They even form an attachment to Mr. Plotz, who never did anything but mistreat them. Scratchansniff has seen this happen right in front of him and he still doesn't realize it.
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And it's not like the Warners don't have the motivation to improve. The Warners don't want to be outcasts. They want to be included, as I asserted in more detail in this post. So, if that's the case, why do they act the way they do? Why are they so difficult? I believe they act like outsiders because that's the only way they've ever been treated. It's similar to how I believe that Yakko plays off all affection as cheesy because it protects him from the letdown of genuinely hoping to receive affection and being denied it. The Warners play the part of annoying outsiders because that's the role they've been cast in. If they didn't play that part, they'd have to confront the reality that the reason they're disliked and shunned is simply because of who they are. It's far less painful to believe that people don't like them because they're deliberately annoying. Then it starts to feel like their choice, instead of something forced upon them unfairly (which is what it truly is).
Scratchansniff is completely oblivious to this. He takes their zany charade at face value. There are certain things you have to do as a psychiatrist if you want to solve anything more than the most surface level cases. You have to constantly be trying to dig deeper. You have to be extremely persistent, continuing to attack the problem at different angles even if the patient is being as difficult as they can be. You have to be willing to dispose of your preconceived notions, your natural emotional reactions to things, and try to truly see and understand the patient's real motives for their actions. Yes, the Warners know exactly how to push anyone's buttons to be the most annoying they can possibly be. A good psychiatrist has to rise above petty feelings like annoyance and frustration. Scratchansniff seems incapable of every single one of these things I just listed. It's like he expects every one of his patients to walk into his office as a completely healthy, mentally balanced person with only minor surface-level issues, which is the complete opposite of what he should expect in his position. So, no, the Warners are far from impossible patients. They aren't even really that difficult. There's far, far worse than them. (In terms of difficulty of treatment.)
It might seem like I'm taking this personally. That's true, I am. I care about these funky cartoon children and I do get a little angry thinking about how much they've been mistreated by everyone they've ever known.
Another problem with Scratchansniff's treatment of the Warners is the way he's been forced to approach it, and this is largely not his fault. He was asked by his boss, the CEO of the company, to get the Warners under control. To dezanitize them, make them quiet, "normal", polite, compliant children. In other words, he's asking Scratchansniff to destroy every part of the Warners' unique personality. What Plotz is asking could only be accomplished by a lobotomy.
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I'm not saying the Warners don't need treatment. They do have problems and could benefit a lot from competent psychological treatment. That, though, would look a lot different from what Scratchansniff has been ordered to do. Effective treatment for the Warners would not seek to change who they fundamentally are. They would be allowed to remain zany, remain silly, keep the things that set them apart from everyone else. But they would be taught the things they were never told about the world and their role in it. Shown when it's appropriate to be all-out zany and when they might want to consider bringing it down a notch, and, most importantly, they would be told why these distinctions are important. Their self-esteem would be boosted, they would be shown that it's possible for them to exist in society and be accepted by others around them. They would realize that they can be comfortable simply being who they are, that they don't have to act out and amplify their zany traits to protect themselves from judgement and disappointment. All of this can be accomplished through just a few easy steps:
Make the therapy sessions feel like a learning environment. The Warners enjoy learning, they like the feeling of knowing stuff. If you make them feel like they're under a microscope, that there's something wrong with them you're trying to fix, of course they'll become defensive and uncooperative. You have to make it feel like a collaborative effort where you're simply showing them things about the world that they had missed before.
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Make them feel accepted, both in the psychiatry office and outside of it. This step is the hardest because you have to get Plotz and WB leadership on board. Make sure the Warners know that you fully accept them, everything about them, and that they can talk about anything without judgement. They might make fun of you if you directly say this to them, but it's important that they know. Even if they don't seem like they're listening, they are. Then, make sure the rest of the studio lot is also an accepting place. Don't make certain areas off limits to them just because you think they'll annoy others. Let them out of the damn tower whenever they please. Teach them certain social norms that will allow them to more easily interact and feel accepted outside of the lot as well.
Gently make them aware of how their own behavior contributes to their marginalization from society. Be very careful not to point the finger at them, lest they become defensive again, and emphasize that none of the abuse they've suffered is in any way their fault. However, somehow they must become aware of how their actions can be off-putting to humans, why some people may find them annoying, and how it doesn't make their situation any easier. They probably already know on some level, but they have to become consciously aware. They also must be reassured that they are completely in control of their own actions. In the past, humans have given them the impression that they're nothing more than zany robots who have preprogrammed comedic reactions to things. Make sure they realize they're more than that, that they are intelligent, thinking people with complete agency over themselves. Allow them to detach their self-worth from their comedic skills, from their status as toons. This is a later-stage step that should only be undertaken once the Warners are comfortable with you and willing to be open and honest about themselves.
Never go back on your word or betray their trust in any way. This is one of Scratchansniff's major mistakes, possibly his biggest single mistake with the Warners. The Warners have simply been betrayed and misled too many times- they will turn their back on you and run away (metaphorically) the second they feel like you haven't been completely honest with them. They don't easily give others their trust. It has to be a slow process, building up trust over time, never taking a step backwards or giving them a reason to doubt that it's all worth it. It's like trying to build a relationship with a skittish wild animal. If you make any sudden movements, they will flee and your chances of befriending them take a major hit.
If everything goes well, the end result will not be three quiet, conformist children. They'll still be the Warners in all the ways that matter. But they'll be self-assured, confident that there is a place for them in society, willing to take social risks and open themselves up to people outside their little familial bubble. And all of this will have the side effect of ending most of their destructive, so-called annoying traits, because they'll simply have no need to do those things. People that feel connected to the world around them, that care about others and have others that care about them, will be much less likely to harm it.
To conclude this first part, I'll bring the focus back to Scratchansniff. If you still have any doubts that the Warners are not an impossible case, here's the strongest proof I have- even for all his many, many faults and missteps, Scratchansniff still managed to make progress with the Warners. He came close to earning their total trust and did form a close relationship with them, despite all the reasons they had to doubt him. But, in the end, Scratchansniff was simply unsuited to help the Warners in a way that would actually benefit them. He didn't have the tools. What Plotz should have done, if he truly cared at all about the Warners, is hire someone who had actual practical experience working with children, preferably even someone with experience working with toons (I assume such people exist in a world where toons live alongside humans in everyday life). The Warners could have been tamed. If you want do that, though, taming them cannot be your primary goal.
The next part will talk about the positive side of Scratchansniff's relationship with the Warners, and how it eventually all went wrong.
UPDATE: Here is a link to part 2.
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antialiasis · 1 year
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Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat/Evita
As you probably know by now, Jesus Christ Superstar is my favorite musical, and the main reason I developed any sort of interest in musicals generally. I have also mentioned before that other popular Andrew Lloyd Webber musicals have not tended to do much for me. The Phantom of the Opera is too florid and lengthy and the characters don’t interest me enough, Cats is amusing fluff but has no real plot or character depth.
But also, perhaps that shouldn’t be very surprising. After all, I tend to be interested in media for its stories and characters more than presentation or spectacle - and Cats and Phantom don’t actually share a writer with JCS. The stuff I love about Jesus Christ Superstar includes the songs, sure, but I wouldn’t care so much about them in a vacuum. The guy who wrote the lyrics, made the story what it is, is Tim Rice.
So a little while back I figured it was high time I actually looked into at least the other well-known Webber/Rice collaborations, Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat and Evita. (I gather abroad Joseph is like, a play every middle school puts on, but not over here; I had never heard of it until I looked up stuff about Jesus Christ Superstar, and never heard a song from it until I went and listened to it recently.)
(Some 5000 words of rambling under the cut, about these two shows, comparisons to JCS, and some character analysis, plus a bit of a digression about the trouble with translating musicals to film!)
Joseph is a pretty amusing one. It’s a show originally written as a fun retelling of a Bible story for kids to perform, before JCS, when Webber and Rice were 17 and 20 years old - specifically, it’s the story of Joseph, not the father of Jesus but Jacob’s favorite son from the Old Testament. Once I listened to it I did vaguely recall hearing the story before, in religious education classes as a kid: Joseph has prophetic dreams about greatness, is betrayed by his jealous brothers and sold into slavery in Egypt, eventually ends up the Pharaoh’s right-hand man after deciphering his prophetic dreams about an upcoming famine, then reunites with his contrite brothers and father.
It’s pretty wild, but you can definitely see the seeds of JCS in it - an isolated story from the Bible, told through a series of songs with very modernized, casual lyrics with a bit of a cheeky satirical energy with regards to some of the source material. But where JCS is a dramatic, emotional reinterpretation, Joseph has very little interest in drawing out the drama of the story it’s adapting, for the most part, and sticks with just retelling it with tongue firmly in cheek and a deluge of indulgent pastiche of a dozen different musical genres. The Pharaoh? A shameless Elvis parody, because why not. The brothers? Sing an over-the-top country song about how Joseph was heroically killed by a goat after they have sold him into slavery, and then later a parody French ballad about how much they miss him.
I quite enjoy just how plainly it presents the whole Joseph being Jacob’s favorite son thing, the narrator talking cheerfully about the coat his father gives him to make it clear that Joseph was the special one, and him telling his brothers about all these dreams he’s having that are clearly symbolic of how much greater he will be than them:
I dreamed that in the fields one day, The corn gave me sign Your eleven sheaves of corn All turned and bowed to mine My sheaf was was quite a sight to see A golden sheaf and tall Yours were green and second-rate And really rather small
What a hilariously smug-slash-oblivious little prick. The brothers are still obviously the villains here, but without exactly commenting on it per se, the musical cheerfully leans into the things a modern audience might find kind of preposterous or silly reading this story, and thus sort of subtextually asks but honestly, wasn’t it kind of dickish of their dad to just pick a favorite son and lavish him with special gifts for it? Isn’t Joseph himself being kind of a dick with this thing of telling them repeatedly about how hey guys I had this dream that I’m way better than you and in the future you’re all going to bow down to me?
And Jesus Christ Superstar does essentially the same thing - though often in a less humorous and more simply speculative way. It asks things like, isn’t it kind of weird and morbid of Jesus to tell the apostles that the bread they eat is his body and the wine they drink is his blood? What if it wasn’t a grand metaphor, but just him expressing his disillusionment with everything, and with them; what if in this moment he just feels like they wouldn’t even care if it was, and he’s right because they don’t even react? Or what if he’s just sort of morosely hoping maybe at least it’ll make them remember him when they eat and drink?
Joseph does have a little bit of a character arc going, which saves it from being entirely fluff. After we’ve seen his (possibly oblivious) self-aggrandizement at the beginning, Joseph gets betrayed and sold into slavery by his brothers, then jailed on false charges, where he goes through a lowest point in the song “Close Every Door to Me”, about how he’s insignificant and it doesn’t matter what happens to him, but he’s holding on to the thought of the Promised Land for strength. After that lowest point, he’s learned some humility - not long after this, when his fellow inmates ask him to interpret their dreams, he agrees to try but isn’t sure he’ll get it right, and is almost sheepish about admitting that well, he hasn’t been wrong before. So by the time Joseph actually gains the glory and prestige that he dreamed of, it feels reasonably earned, not only because he’s been to hell and back, but because he’s stopped being the kind of insufferable, arbitrarily privileged ass he was at the start in the process. (Or, at least, that’s what I get listening to the 1991 London cast recording that I picked somewhat arbitrarily on Spotify. I also watched the 1999 movie with one eye while drawing, and there Joseph honestly kind of felt like he was still pretty smug by the end. I like it better if there’s a character arc.)
At the end, his brothers come from Canaan, which is suffering from the famine, to Egypt to beg for food. Of course Joseph is there to receive them, only for them to not recognize him there in his Egyptian finery. Joseph decides to take them for a bit of a ride, to test whether they’re still the dickheads who tried to kill him and sold him into slavery; he responds to their groveling with angry fake skepticism - telling me that you are hungry! That could be lies! during a famine, sure. They grovel all the more, and he makes a show of saying they’ve moved him and that he’ll give them what they came for and more. Only he slips one of his golden cups into his younger brother Benjamin’s sack, then angrily stops them as they’re trying to leave, theatrically searching their bags until he finds it in Benjamin’s and demands to lock him up and throw away the key. And the brothers throw themselves at his feet to say there’s no way Benjamin did this, and to please have mercy on him and jail them instead.
This whole bit, the brothers groveling and Joseph putting on this charade, probably taking out some justified anger through scaring them and the power he wields over them, while also legitimately trying to test their characters and whether he can forgive them, is my favorite chunk of this show. “Grovel, Grovel” just has a melody I like, the energy and tension of the music for “Who’s the Thief?” is great (and amusingly reminiscent of the motif I dubbed ‘Authority’ in JCS), the character dynamic of what’s happening is just interesting and more layered than anything preceding it, and it sort of drops to a bit of a more serious and tense feel there in general, the brothers genuinely desperate and Joseph pushing mercilessly to learn who they really are and whether he can ever trust them again…
…and then we launch into “Benjamin Calypso”, a sudden jarringly upbeat number where the brothers continue to argue that there’s no way Benjamin stole the cup and he should take them instead in the most nonchalant, utterly unserious way possible. The mood whiplash is something. After that Joseph reveals who he is and the brothers get like two lines to ask if it’s really him, we explain their father came and joined them in like five more lines, and then it’s time to reprise the early number about Joseph’s vision at the beginning of the story for the finale. There’s no followup on the reunion or what just happened at all!
And I guess that’s fair. The entire rest of the show is deeply silly, exaggerated pastiche where the brothers act like the snidest of villains, and we aren’t supposed to care about them. But one way or another, I find myself honestly wanting a more cathartic resolution here. Judah does offer himself up in exchange for Benjamin, sure, but in that song where he’s otherwise busy jauntily comparing Benjamin’s honesty to coconuts and palm trees because Caribbean music, it’s impossible to take that at all seriously, or actually feel like it means anything about his character or ought to move Joseph to forgive them. And then we don’t get any followup, and all in all it just means it sort of starts to present an actually interesting dramatic situation, in its slightly tongue-in-cheek way, and then goes, “Never mind! Anyway, more pastiche!”
In the original story in Genesis, Joseph was explicitly feeling a lot of emotion during all this - he overhears them talking in Hebrew about their regrets over what they did to Joseph, and from there he multiple times has to excuse himself from everyone’s presence to weep, until he’s fully sure that now his brothers would rather sacrifice their own lives than sell another brother. I honestly think that makes sense, and that it would have worked (and probably worked better) to include more emotionality here. But oh well! It’s a pretty fun silly show with some fun songs in it, and that’s all it really wants to be. What If Joseph But We Took It Seriously is basically what JCS is, and I for one am happy with what we got there.
Evita is quite different, a more ambitious and very much adult-oriented show postdating JCS by several years (like JCS, it was first released as a concept album, in 1976). It’s about the life of Argentinian First Lady Eva Perón. I don’t know much about the real-life history or how accurate it is to the actual woman, but the musical at least depicts her with a sort of blend of deep cynicism and a degree of twisted admiration for her sheer ruthless drive and ability to win influence. After an opening framing device, it starts with her as a working-class country girl forcefully persuading a singer she’s had a fling with to bring her to the big city. Once there, she immediately ditches him to pursue her own ends, freely using sex with men for whatever advantage it would get her until she has a popular radio show. After that, she begins a relationship with future president Juan Perón, with the express intent that it would be mutually beneficial to both of them, by leveraging her popularity with the public for his political endeavors while giving her access to further power and influence through him.
(I’d be surprisingly good for you, she proposes; would you be good for me too? In the Icelandic cast album that I found on Spotify, she just proposes that I’d be a pleasure for you, which misses the entire point. Similarly, his subsequent verse where he agrees that I can understand you perfectly / and I like what I hear, what I see, and knowing me / I would be good for you too is rendered as I feel my heart pounding / and I like your words, this sight, and believe me / I’d do anything for you. According to this translation this was just an average love at first sight thing I guess? He’s not even calling back to her own words or acknowledging that he gets what she’s after? Good job, guys. It’s a pretty good translation in terms of the poetry and phrasing and all, but man do they drop the ball on conveying the correct narrative here. Overall I get the impression from the album cover and song choices that the people behind this Icelandic production thought the core of this story was supposed to be the romance between Eva and Juan? Which I truly don’t think is meant to be the point, at all.)
They go on to campaign and win despite that Perón thinks the whole concept of having to get votes to get into power is needlessly annoying (her radio rhetoric for him involves claiming that he loves you, understands you, is one of you; if not, how could he love me?). Eva becomes massively popular in her home country but doesn’t succeed quite as well on a European tour where the Italians compare her husband to Mussolini; they make a bunch of money ostensibly for charitable causes, some of which winds up back in their pockets through secret Swiss accounts (apparently this bit is historically dubious and that verse is cut from later versions of the show), all while Eva is venerated as a saint; but finally she starts to grow weak with cancer and then dies, her life deliriously flashing before her as she thinks about how in the end her choices were hers and hers alone, and she chose to burn bright and briefly, even if perhaps becoming loved by so many didn’t quite add up to being loved more. It ends with a statement that money was raised to build a monument to Evita, but only the base was ever completed, and her body disappeared for seventeen years. I guess the implication is that the monument was a scam to some degree too?
As a plot it’s a bit unfocused. There isn’t really a proper climax to the storyline here; “they make a bunch of questionable money, she goes on a tour that’s neither successful nor a total disaster, and then she happens to die a while later from cancer” is kind of an anticlimax, lacking any kind of cohesive overall punch that’d make it resonate by itself (and to be clear, that’s usually the case with real events, which is why fiction based on true stories tends to change bits around to make them work better narratively; I get the sense from Joseph and JCS as well that Webber and Rice like to stick very closely to the actual series of events they’re adapting even if presenting them liberally, but that can unfortunately be a bit of a detriment when they’re trying to adapt straight-up recent history instead of a myth). Instead, this musical is more about its themes and the general character study going on.
In particular, our narrator is not Eva herself but “Ché”, a man who may or may not have been modelled after Ché Guevara. For the purposes of the musical he is mainly there as a representative of the general Argentinian working class, telling the story after Eva’s death after becoming disillusioned with her and her husband’s reign. In a way he is Evita’s Judas: the cynical POV character observing the eponymous subject of the show from a critical point of view, who is given a chance to comment on them and their legacy with the benefit of hindsight. Unlike with Judas, though, Ché in the musical is speaking only from that perspective of hindsight, not actually present during the story’s events other than when he briefly reenacts attending Perón’s rallies at the time - mostly he’s an immaterial narrator giving sardonic commentary on the events of the show.
(On Wikipedia and Genius, there are both people insisting that on the original concept album he was definitely meant to be Ché Guevara but that element was removed later when it was staged, and also people insisting that he was never supposed to be Guevara originally until the director of the first stage production decided to dress him like Guevara. On the original concept album he has a whole weird unclear side-plot going on, concurrent with the main events of the show, about his efforts to produce and sell insecticide, which Wikipedia suggests is based on Guevara’s life. As best I can tell the point of this subplot for the album’s narrative is to portray Ché as motivated partly by personal spite/jealousy/misogyny in his criticisms of Eva - towards the end of the first half he gets excited about the prospect that surely if some girl can rise so fast by her efforts in the sack then a man who offers more could do the same, and at a later point, during the song “The Actress Hasn’t Learned the Lines (You’d Like to Hear)”, Eva coldly dismisses him when he tries to sell her on his insecticide, which makes the critique that Eva didn’t do much for the working man sound more like he’s just kind of mad about that. I guess in some sense that adds a layer of ambiguity to it, unreliable narrator and all, but it feels very muddled and mostly just serves to make him seem like a dickish weirdo, undermining his character and everything else he has to say; I’m not surprised this subplot got removed entirely in every version after that. There’s another little bit later on the concept album where Ché declares he used to be loyal to his country, but for all he got out of it he might as well have been loyal to some other country, which I guess is imagining that this spurned Ché Guevara into traveling and instigating revolutions in different countries, giving up on his birth country of Argentina. This seems like pure baseless historical speculation and again is just weird and muddled by the whole portrayal of the insecticide thing, and again got ditched from later versions.)
My favorite song here is probably “Waltz for Eva and Ché”, which I’d argue serves as the real climax of the musical, even though it isn’t even a literal thing that happens. (The aforementioned Icelandic cast album does not include it; in fact, there’s barely any Ché on it generally. Again, it feels like someone thought this was supposed to be a grand romance and this guy constantly criticizing the heroine in the background was just spoiling the mood, I guess.) In this fantasy sequence, Ché finally interacts directly with Eva, challenging her on her corruption and broken promises, while the unfazed Eva staunchly defends her actions and approach in her own pragmatic sort of way:
There is evil Ever around, fundamental System of government quite incidental So what are my chances of honest advances? I’d say low Better to win by admitting my sin Than to lose with a halo
[…]
Allow me to help you slink off to the sidelines And mark your adieu with three cheers But first tell me who'd be delighted If I said I'd take on the world's greatest problems From war to pollution, no hope of solution Even if I lived for one hundred years
As far as Eva is concerned, idealistically trying to work on big problems she’ll never magically solve doesn’t actually make anyone happy, so what’s the point? Ultimately, she doesn’t care about causes or governance or politics per se, really, but she cares a lot about being a figure that inspires the common people of Argentina. And sometimes that involves being as glamorous as possible, living the high life as a working-class girl turned first lady, and sometimes it involves charity work that’s very showy and feelgood even if it doesn’t exactly make the best use of the money, and that’s all kind of the same to her; there’s corruption and evil everywhere in every political system, but at least she made people smile to the point that they chant her name. What else is there, really?
In the final verse of “Waltz for Eva and Ché”, she admits for the first time that her body is falling apart, and she wishes she had more time. And in her final lament, where she speaks of how she thought the more that loved me, the more loved I’d be, she wishes she’d had children of her own. She does have some regrets, in the end. But while she lived she committed so hard to everything she did that she’d just suppress any such thoughts out of existence. And as a result she played the game so well she was possibly the most powerful person in her entire country by the age of twenty-six; who else could say that?
As a character she’s a bit of a puzzle, but definitely intentionally so - I get the sense most of this musical is just Tim Rice trying to figure out what might have been going on in this woman’s head. (And, yeah, this is obviously just an interpretation of a woman who was an actual person, and all my commentary on her is strictly about the character as portrayed in the musical, and not about the actual woman, about whom I know very little.) One is never quite sure how much she means of what she’s saying - a distinctive feature of her character is that she constantly says things with what sounds like total conviction and sincerity that we know are lies, or stretching the truth, or are connected lyrically and musically to times she was definitely lying or stretching the truth. You could definitely argue for an interpretation where she’s doing that in “Waltz for Eva and Ché” too - just unflinchingly saying whatever justifies her actions as if she believes it, even in an imaginary confrontation. But my read is it does seem that one way or another it comes to matter a great deal to her that the working-class people of Argentina love and adore her, in a way I’m not sure much else matters to her. She has some base craving for being loved, and even if in the end all the love and adoration of the masses can’t quite satisfy it, she was still driven to a large extent by that craving.
Class is a running theme here. Eva comes from the working class, as I mentioned, and her family were thrown out at her middle-class father’s funeral, as mentioned offhandedly near the beginning of the show (her mother was his mistress); from there, she seems to have developed a determination to show them, to be better and get further and be more known and adored than any of the people who dismissed her for her origins. She climbs the social ladder relentlessly, but continues to be scorned by Argentina’s upper class no matter what she does, simply because of where she comes from, and for all of the musical’s cynicism about Eva herself, that’s one thing that it definitely sides with her on. Similarly, the powerful woman getting where she is by sleeping her way to the top is kind of a misogynistic trope that I can’t help but side-eye a bit (I suspect it’s probably a pretty direct reflection of the apparently very merciless biography that the musical was supposedly based on, given what I mentioned earlier about the way they tend to stick quite closely to the events they’re adapting, but nonetheless), but at the same time the sexism and misogyny that Eva faces wherever she goes are also a recurring theme, both from the upper class, in Europe, and from the soldiers of the Argentine Army who think she should just shut up and spread her legs. Eva’s unrelenting defiance in the face of this adversity and refusal to bow to it, and continuing success despite that, is ultimately something I feel the story kind of admires in her, in spite of the many ways it’s harshly critical of her. She saw something she wanted, and she simply did whatever she had to do to get it in her not very advantageous situation as a woman in the 1940s, and successfully made it to the top that way despite being disparaged and scorned at every turn, without ever giving in.
So that’s the overall picture I get of her character here: the formative experience of being treated as lesser and unworthy at her own father’s funeral spurned this woman into obsessive unflinching determination to make it in the biggest way possible and earn the public’s love and adoration, at whatever cost, with very little regard to what she had to do or enable to get there, and while the deepest core of that drive may have ultimately been a longing for more personal love and acceptance, she channeled it into an incredibly successful drive to be loved by her people. For all its flaws and questionable elements I do think it’s an interesting character study, hence the rambling; I’m often drawn to characters whose actions might seem puzzling at a glance but have a coherent core driving them that makes the character click if you think about it, and while Eva doesn’t press my personal character buttons super hard otherwise, I think she’s definitely an example of that.
We watched the 1996 movie based on Evita, too. It leans away from the Ché Guevara thing, with Antonio Banderas portraying Ché as simply an everyman (he gets whumped a little bit, which was fun). The performances are good overall, and it’s more faithful than I was expecting; aside from lyrical tweaks and adding a song that’s incorporated into later stage productions as well, the main notable deviation is that “Another Suitcase in Another Hall”, a song originally sung by Perón’s mistress (a one-scene wonder), is moved earlier to be sung by Eva as Augustin Magaldi (the singer who brought her to Buenos Aires) ditches her, and is only briefly echoed later by the mistress. This is a significant shift because originally Magaldi is firmly meant to be someone Eva is simply using for her own ends and immediately ditches when she’s made it to Buenos Aires with him, while in the film it tries to make this a sympathetic moment for Eva, and thus implies she actually did naïvely love Magaldi and think they’d stay together - starkly different from her original characterization, where her proclamation that Would I have done what I did if I didn’t think, if I didn’t know, that we would stay together? is one of the establishing moments of that thing where she states things with total conviction that are shown to be not even a little bit true.
I can imagine three reasons for this change. One, they thought having another actress playing a bit character sing this famous solo song before never appearing again would just feel weird in a film, which is valid; it definitely does feel like a storytelling choice that happens in musicals but really goes against what anyone would expect in film. Two, they just wanted to give the more famous actress the song (Eva is played by Madonna). And/or three, they wanted Eva to be more sympathetic and Magaldi less so, which I can also understand, particularly given she is explicitly fifteen years old at the time and “musician who sleeps with a fifteen-year-old girl is the one being used and manipulated actually” is undeniably a bit hmm. But it kind of contradicts the rest of how it all plays out a bit - I didn’t really get the sense from the lead-up in the movie that she actually loved Magaldi or wanted anything from him other than the ticket to the city, and in general Eva is still just as ruthless! All in all, I sort of get the change, and it creates sort of a neat parallel where Eva inflicts the same humiliation on this other girl that she’d suffered herself back when she had nothing, but I’m not sure they entirely pulled it off in a way that makes sense.
I think the film also suffers from a sense that many shots are simply filling time as they want the music to play for exactly as many bars as originally written; the pacing feels glacial a lot of the time as a result. I wasn’t quite devoting my full attention to the Joseph movie so it’s hard to entirely have an idea of how it compares in that regard, but I feel like that one did this more successfully, with more energetic shots and staging.
I’ve come to feel increasingly that musicals are just quite hard to film well; Joseph really leans into being super stylized and framed as a sort of heightened version of a stage production, which is one way that I think can work pretty well, but it’s just a lot easier to get restless watching a film than actors on stage, and if you’ve got a song playing and cut to different shots while it’s happening, those shots really need to be interesting and hold the viewer’s attention, rather than just arbitrary filler. In something stylized along the lines of a stage production, you can sometimes get away with doing that with cool choreography and spectacle, but if you’re going for something more grounded and realistic, like Evita, you need to figure out how to make interesting, meaningful shots out of the moments where a song is having an instrumental interlude or repeating a verse or a chorus (assuming you don’t simply cut those bits out of the song), and that’s just a lot harder than saying it.
(Incidentally, we also watched the 2021 West Side Story film recently, and I think Spielberg absolutely nailed doing this in an overall realistically styled and toned film - it does feature people doing group dance choreography with perfect seriousness as if it’s a normal thing to do, but both there and in other songs it carefully makes sure the characters are always doing something, with a flowing character dynamic that maintains a sense that something is happening and keeps it from feeling like we’re filling space or waiting for the song to be done. Tricky thing to do, but absolutely possible!)
All in all, neither Joseph nor Evita are making it onto my favorite musicals list, but they’re interesting in their own very different ways, and I enjoyed diving into them and rambling a bit. Musical rambling, I have missed thee.
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