#snapshots and borrowed thoughts

[tini21]

347/365 all the time! 😴

#fluffy #snapshots and borrowed thoughts #photographers on tumblr #shih tzu

[owl-with-a-pen]

okay but another angsty thing re: Brainy and sleeping, what if he wakes up from a nap or something in the Tower soon after the season 5 finale and thinks he's still in that room with the radiation poisoning him (like maybe he has a nightmare about that), so someone has to calm him down and bring him back to reality

If the 3,000+ word count wasn't a dead giveaway, I had some fun with this one 😉

If Nia was certain of anything, it was that Brainy was going to crash real soon. He’d been looking pale ever since they’d returned from the Fortress, and there was no way in hell she could ignore the feverish heat that had prickled from his skin while her face had been buried so snugly against his throat. He hadn’t said anything then, but when they’d eventually picked themselves up from the lab’s floor, Brainy had been ready to drop long before they made it to the elevator. Without Nia's guiding hand, he never would have made it to the loft in one piece.

By the time they were hunkered down on a sofa in the Tower’s living nook, tablet balanced precariously between them, one of J’onn’s blankets folded over their knees, Brainy been close to passing out entirely. The only thing that stopped him was his relentless focus on the task at hand.

Every now and then, Nia caught his eyes as they worked a path across the data she’d been able to draw up from their borrowed intel downloaded from the Fortress’s supercomputer. It wasn’t much, but between the Tower, Legion and Kryptonian archive, they had a halfway decent snapshot of what the Phantom Zone might entail.

Finding Kara, though? That was the tricky part.

Nia’s heart hurt every time she thought about it – of Kara lost and alone in that place. She’d once described it to her as worse than hell. A terrifying purgatory where nightmares held a tangible presence.

No one had gone home that night. Nia lost track of Alex some point past midnight when Lena appeared with enough Big Belly Burger to feed a small army. Her best guess was that she’d retreated downstairs in the commotion to get first dibs on J’onn’s intergalactic coffee machine. They could’ve all used the kick right about now, and any other night Nia would’ve been shouldering her way to the front of the line.  

But coffee wasn’t going to cut it today. Besides, shoulder-to-shoulder with Brainy was exactly where she needed to stay. Maybe he hadn’t been eager to share anything out loud, but when he’d refused to eat any of Lena’s generous offerings, Nia had known what was up.

The nanites were starting to hit back. Hard.

She could survive without the caffeine, she rationalised. Maybe it was a good thing. She’d been doing pretty much anything to deny sleep for the last few months, hating herself whenever she slipped into a dream with Brainy as the centrepiece, goading her even in the deepest corners of her subconscious. She’d spent so long convincing herself that it was all in her head, that it was her grief and guilt that had conjured him up as her eternal tormenter. Knowing the truth of it still stung, an ache that went bone-deep, but that pain had started to ease the moment she’d locked her pinkie with his.

She wasn’t sure how easy she’d sleep now, but she knew that she couldn’t ignore the tug of the dream realm any longer. It was the only place she could figure any of this out, no matter how uncertain she felt. Besides, she wasn’t alone this time. She had Brainy back on her team, his promise to her as unbreakable as steel, and knowing that made everything feel just a little lighter.  

Nia wasn’t surprised when the words on the tablet began to blur into an incomprehensible muddle, the lull of her unconscious mind far too pressing of a force to refuse. Soon, she was lost to that darkness, pulled dizzyingly fast towards the threads of a dream already spun partway together.

Sometimes, her dreams came to her in quick successive flashes - other times they settled into specific locations, familiar or alien alike.

The room she awoke to was hazy, shimmering with rippling heat that rose in waves from the surface of the ground, enough that she couldn’t see a thing inside it. There was light, though, a deep orange spectacle that shone from somewhere close to the floor.

Before she could even try to understand where she was, pain like nothing she’d ever experienced erupted across her skin. It didn’t have a source, rather it radiated from all-round. It was a tangible pressure, raw and harsh, a laser point fixed solely on her that bypassed clothes and flesh alike, blistering straight to blood and bone. Her limbs felt like lead wherever it penetrated, targeting her joints until she folded with a swallowed scream to the floor. Nia’s chest held stiff, refusing to draw in the air she suddenly, desperately needed.

Because every breath burned - worse than the last - as though her lungs were lacerating inside her ribs. She gritted her teeth like she was biting down on leather, the sting of her tears sizzling to vapour before they even had a chance to fall.

What was this place her mind screamed, that too sounding warped and winded to her ears. Her dreams had certainly terrified her before, but they’d never hurt her like this. Like they could kill.

Nia gasped, gripping for her throat when the pressure of the air thickened inside her mouth, scalding her tongue. She could nearly taste it, bitter like battery acid, sharp like blood. Something about that taste was familiar to her, like when she’d overexerted her powers or…

No… there was something else. Because she had felt this before. Just for a second. Just before…

Before she’d been thrown from Leviathan’s ship.

Leviathan.

That didn’t make sense. If that was what her dream was trying to tell her, it’d missed the mark by a mile. The ship was gone – Leviathan along with it. No amount of pain could convince her otherwise. And if that was true, then there was nothing left of this dream that could hold a connection to the future.

How could her dream prophesise something that no longer existed?

Just as Nia had forced another breath through her bubbling lungs, bracing herself for the pain that would follow, she heard something. A sound that cut through the fog in her mind, that made everything suddenly so clear.

A soft, barely audible whimper from across the room.

Nia curled her hands into fists, jerking against the molten metal that greeted her knuckles, and looked up. Beyond the stifling power of Leviathan’s radiation, she could see the shape of a person pressed up against the console of the furthest edge of the room. She blinked against the stinging in her eyes, realising that the orange light she’d seen before had been coming from there. Now, that glow sharpened into something starker, closer matching the pale hair it illuminated – pasted against the jawline of a very familiar green face.

Nia’s eyes widened in shock, gasping his name.

Brainy sat with his knees drawn towards his chest, his body curved protectively around an object cradled closely to his centre. Even while she watched, Nia could see the spasmodic convulses of his chest as he tried to draw in breath, quickly followed by a barely muted cry of pain when the radiation crept in instead; his teeth an off-white smear fixed into permanent misery.

Nia’s heart twisted hard enough to outweigh her own pain. Because… it wasn’t her pain. It never had been. She’d never been inside the ship long enough to feel its true effect. None of them had.

None except…

Brainy. Of course this was Brainy’s dream. She wasn’t inside a vision at all. In her exhausted confusion, she must have slipped right into Brainy’s mind.

It was rare – rarer than rare, actually. But sometimes it could happen. If she and Brainy were tired enough, if they hadn’t been thinking, or even if they were thinking too much, then…

It hadn’t happened in so long, though. It couldn’t. They would have needed to share each other’s space, each other’s bed…

Now a new pain fluttered in her heart, an ache she thought she’d begun to remedy. But it had become such an old pain now, something that had fused itself to her after months of grief and frustration and anger.

In a way, this place was that and more. She’d never seen Brainy’s mind palace after he’d taken off the inhibitors, never experienced his dreams with his true self restored. And despite the heaviness of this place, the colours here were more vibrant, every light source so bright they could have been blinding. There was a sound beyond the buzz of the radiation, one that thrummed at the base of Nia's skull like old whispers, slipping in and out of audibility between every laboured pant of Brainy’s chest.

He looked like he had in the vision Nia had seen not a few hours earlier – when he’d collapsed to the ground after absorbing all that targeted radiation.

Ten minutes had already been too much for him, and those ten had turned into fifteen, twenty—it had taken Nia far too long to make it down there. And then, even after she’d found him, she hadn’t been quick enough, hadn’t had the power or natural immunity to drag him to safety.

It could have killed him. It should have. Nia’s dreams had been right to make her feel that way. This was to as near-death as she could have experienced without being in Brainy’s place.

And, for whatever reason, Brainy’ subconscious had decided to drag him right back here.

Now she was beginning to understand the rules of this dream, Nia realised that the radiation didn’t hold the same power over her. With a deep breath, she drew her shoulders together, pushing herself back onto her haunches. The radiation still barrelled at her, but now it held the potency of a soft breeze, nothing she couldn’t push past.

It wasn’t her pain, she reminded herself. And the more she thought that, the easier it became to ignore it. Soon she was back on her feet, crossing the room as easily as Kara or J’onn had made it look when they’d crashed inside.  

Nia didn’t stop walking until she was crouched at Brainy’s side. His chest was rising and falling in short, breathless exhales, too weak to draw in the air he needed. His head was tipped skyward, lips parted into a strained grimace.

At first, she wondered if this was some sort of punishment he'd conjured himself, a side-effect from all the guilt he’d been harbouring over the last few months.

That was until she realised what it was that he was holding so tightly in his arms, and how quickly he flinched away from her when she tried to reach for it herself.

“N-no,” Brainy whined, a panicked sound. He shook his head vehemently, curling even further into himself, obscuring the bottle from sight. The yellow hue it gave off was unmistakable, painting his face a sickly shade. His expression contorted again when more pain rolled through him, trails of salt staining his cheeks. “I-I can’t let go, I-I can’t let him win.”

“Brainy, it’s okay,” Nia said as gently as she could manage, sidling in closer to him. She kept her hands a practiced mark from the bottle, hovering steadfast. “You’re dreaming, okay? But I can help. Take my hand.”

Brainy whimpered, a strangled sound catching in his throat as fresh tears flooded his blood-stained eyes. “N-no,” he croaked. “Lex’ll – I can’t – or-or Kara will—”

Nia’s heart broke for him. This wasn’t about punishment; in his delirious state of mind, Brainy must have brought himself back to the moment just before Lex had stolen the bottle from him.

No matter what she’d told him back in the waking world, it hadn’t been enough to relieve him of his guilt. Not in the way he needed. But she knew this wasn’t going to help him, either.  The whispers in the air were as thick as the radiation shield itself, droning from every corner, warping into nothing but a mechanised garble.

He wasn’t going to go willingly, she knew that, and Nia was too afraid that taking him by force might make things worse.

Looked like she’d have to do things the old-fashioned way.

“I’ll see you on the other side, Wildcat,” Nia murmured, closing her eyes, losing sight of the prison Brainy had designed for himself as quickly as she’d entered.

Nia only felt a drifting impression of Brainy’s consciousness before she was back in the waking world. When she blinked her eyes open, she was inside the Tower again, with the real Brainy pressed tightly to her side.

His golden hair was slick to his forehead with sweat, his eyes skirting uncertainly behind closed lids as he muttered fretfully in his sleep. Some of the words were English, others held the mechanised characteristics of fluent Coluan. There was another language, too, one that overlapped the others, far separate from anything she’d heard him speak before.

She recognised it though, the ancient consonants that rolled from his tongue even while he was under such duress. It was the same language he’d spoken with Rama Khan. The language of the gods.

He was still bartering with Leviathan somewhere deep down, trying in his own way to fix his mistakes. But his pleas fell on deaf ears. All ears, but hers.

Suddenly, Brainy whimpered again, a sob catching him so hard that Nia worried he’d choke. He clawed at her front with weak fingers, lashes fluttering beneath layers of delirium.

She knew she had to wake him, but it was still a delicate procedure even outside of the dream realm. Carefully, Nia wound her arm around Brainy’s back, clutching the fibres of his suit, securing him against her side as she ran her free hand over his chest. Brainy didn’t fight her, instead he buried his nose into her throat, his clammy skin cold and fervid at the same time. She could feel the sting of his life projectors even from a distance, prickling across her gloves as she searched for his frequency, bringing it into step with her own.

Usually, once she’d found a target, that’d be her cue to drag them into a sleep they’d have a hell of a time coming back from. Now, she sought that power in reverse, pulling back on her usual gift so that she could dispel a dream sequence rather than enforce it. Blue energy swirled from Nia’s fingertips, coalescing with the white of Brainy’s central projector, knocking on the fragile door of his unconscious mind.

When that door creaked open, she let her energy soar, illuminating all that had been buried so that it might rise to the surface unimpeded.

She felt the tug of his consciousness before he woke, and when Brainy shot forward in the confusion that followed, Nia was there to steady him, pressing her hand reassuringly into his centre, trying to draw in on the pleasant fog that often accompanied a nap post-waking.

But peace like that couldn’t be manufactured.  

“N-n-no—” Brainy gasped, choking hard enough that it induced a coughing fit so violent he nearly retched from the strain.

Nia held him steady, worried that he was about to make himself sick. She rubbed his back, soothing him with breathless reassurances while simultaneously mapping out the closest trash can in case she needed to make an emergency dive for it.

“It’s okay,” she said, a gentle murmur in his ear. “It was just a nightmare, Brainy. You’re safe.”

But even as she said it, she couldn’t be sure that it was true. The sweat on Brainy’s brow wasn’t just a result of his nightmare. As Nia rocked in time with him, she could feel his body convulse against her with shudders that he was powerless to quell. He was burning up, his eyes glazed and fever stricken.

He was sick. Sicker than she’d ever seen him, and there was nothing she could do to take that pain away.

She felt useless.

Then, miraculously, Nia heard a creak on the floorboards and suddenly Alex’s head popped into view. Her eyes held an exhaustion that went way beyond the physical, but just seeing her made the knot in Nia’s stomach loosen. Nia shifted Brainy’s weight in her arms, holding him tightly as the coughing fit finally abated and he slouched with a groan into her shoulder. She desperately wanted to warm him with her energy, but that probably wasn’t the right call when he was already burning like a furnace against her side.

“Hey, hey, I heard the commotion,” Alex said, her expression serious as she took stock of the situation. Habitually, she rolled up her sleeves. “What happened?”

“He had a nightmare,” Nia said, trying to sound stronger than she felt. “I barely got him out of there. He was dreaming of Leviathan’s ship again, of being trapped in that room—”

Alex sighed before Nia had even finished talking, leaning heavily into the arm of the sofa. “I was afraid this might happen,” she admitted. Her eyes flickered back to Brainy sympathetically. “He’s put up a good fight so far, but that radiation did a number on him. Whether he likes it or not, those nanites are going to have to run their course.” She pressed her hand to the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut. “Damnit. I shouldn’t’ve called him to the Fortress. I just got desperate. I-I thought that maybe he could reverse the projector if we did it fast enough. That Kara—”

Her voice warbled over her sister’s name and Nia immediately reached out to take Alex’s arm, meeting her eye firmly. “Don’t blame yourself,” she said. “You and I both know he would’ve come either way.” Nia was forced to let go of Alex when a particularly harsh shudder ran down Brainy’s spine, all but immobilising him. He tensed against her before groaning out, wrapping his arms tightly around his front, obscuring the wavering flicker of his central projector.

When he was able to open his eyes again, he saw Nia first. “N-Nia?” he croaked, his voice so stricken it hurt. He shook his head, barely able to articulate himself. “You c-can’t be here—t-the radiation.”

“Hey, hey,” Nia soothed, taking his face, running her nails beneath his jaw. She drew his eyes up to meet hers. He felt so delicate in her grasp, as fragile as cracked glass. “It was just a nightmare. We’re at the Tower, remember?”

Brainy bared his teeth, his dark eyes flashing with fresh tears. He ducked his chin into her cupped palm. “B-but it hurts.”

“Oh honey, I know,” Nia said, her own eyes stinging as she let Brainy fold fully against her. His pulse raged in his forehead, beating an obscure pattern into the base of her throat. He was crying again, his tears dousing the collar of her suit, but even that was too taxing on him now. He’d slip back into restless sleep sooner or later, whether that would be better for him had yet to be proven. She looked up at Alex desperately. “Can we give him another dose of those nanites? Maybe that’ll—”

But Alex was already shaking her head. “They’re doing their job,” she said. “I know it looks rough, and it is, but I promise he’s healing, Nia. He just has to ride this out.”

Nia closed her eyes, pressing her cheek into his damp hair. “He’s in so much pain.”

“I know,” Alex said softly. She sighed, crouching down so that she could run the back of her hand against Brainy's cheek. When he didn't stir, she stood, jerking her head towards the elevator. “Look, I’m gonna get Lena’s portal watch from downstairs. It’s the quickest way to get him home so that he can sleep this off safely.”

Nia could only nod. It didn’t feel like she was even fully there anymore. A part of her consciousness had tied itself far too deeply with Brainy’s pain, maybe from the moment she’d first slipped into his nightmare.

She hardly heard Alex when she asked, “One last thing; do you know where he’s calling home these days?”

Despite that, she didn’t hesitate. “My apartment,” Nia said, wiping the tears from her eyes in an automatic gesture. She sobered as she stared at the moisture on her fingers, for a second unsure whether it had come from her face or Brainy’s. She glanced up again. “He’ll be safe there,” she explained, before hastening to add, “besides, I can’t leave him alone like this.”

Alex’s expression was warm. She glanced between Brainy and Nia knowingly, an eyebrow half raised. “Are you two…?”

“We’re figuring things out,” Nia said. As if on cue, Brainy made a soft sound against her, desperately nuzzling into her throat, a crackly hum easing from his chest. His breath was hot and welcoming, his lips brushing her skin without being fully conscious of the act. Even still, Nia felt her face warm.

“Looks like it’s going well,” Alex noted with a smirk. It was the first time Nia had seen her smile since they’d lost Kara. It was a tired smile, sure, but if nothing else, she was glad she could offer Alex at least that. Even if it did come at her own expense.

Alex winked before she turned away. “I’ll get the watch.”

“Thank you.”

Nia waited for Alex nervously, her fingers tugging gently through Brainy’s sweat soaked hair. When his eyes fluttered open again and he found her so instinctively, she kissed his forehead, letting her lips linger on his clammy skin. He tasted of salt and metal.

“Hold on, Wildcat,” she murmured. “You’ll be home soon.”

Home. The word had come out so easily, but the moment she said it, she knew it was the truth. She didn’t want Brainy anywhere else. Not tonight, not ever again. And as he sagged gratefully into her embrace, lowering his head with the barest hint of acknowledgement, she knew that he felt the same.

#supergirl #supergirl fanfiction #nia nal #brainiac 5 #brainia #alex danvers #querl dox #whump #sickfic #my writing #my asks #anon #you asked for angst and i delivered. i love trying to expand on how brainy was feeling in 6x01 seeing as the show didn't #and i am a sucker for some hurt/comfort #so hope you enjoy!

[invisible-pink-toast]

was going through my files and found some unfinished old fics from maybeequeen week back in 2022! i'm going to work on finishing a couple of them but probably will never complete this one, still it's just a little snapshot into chloe's life and her relationships. it was for the birthday prompt:

On Chloe’s 11th birthday, the best part of the day was supposed to be that her mother had promised to be there. Audrey was in London doing some fashion critic thing with British Vogue. Normally the flight over from New York was too long, but the flight from London to Paris was only an hour.

But around lunchtime, Chloe got a voicemail from her mother’s assistant, saying that Audrey was busy with a fashion show, but she wished Chloe a happy 10th birthday. Chloe had curled up on her bed, holding Mr Cuddly as tight as she could, as she tried not to cry. Her mother hated crying. 

In the evening, Andre Bourgeois threw Chloe a party. It was very fancy and sophisticated and Chloe felt very grown up. Unfortunately most of the people who’d been invited where her father’s friends, business associates, political sponsors. And given that it was an eleven-year-olds birthday, all of their wives and husbands and partners and children were invited too. A family event.  ‘We should never waste an opportunity to network, sweetheart.’ Her father had said, fixing his cufflinks, as a stylist did Chloe’s hair. It’s not like the other kids from school would have wanted to come anyway. At least Sabrina, Adrien and Felix were going to be there. 

When the party started, Chloe went around with her father and smiled and introduced herself. She answered the polite and uninteresting questions, gracefully accepted birthday wishes and clenched her teeth as her cheeks got pinched by women who had apparently known her since she was a baby, even though she was sure she’d never seen them before.

Sabrina arrived and Chloe showed off her new dress and new jewelry and told Sabrina all about her new presents, as Sabrina gasped and admired and begged to borrow things. But the real best part of the day was the surprise Chloe got was when the Agreste’s showed up. 

She’s in the middle of falsely smiling at one of the hotel board members when hands grab her around the middle from behind. She yelps, but is only pulled into a hug by a laughing Adrien. 

‘Happy birthday, Chlo!’ He yells in her ear, and then she’s laughing too. A real one, not the simpering little giggle she’s been putting on all night. She turns in his arms and hugs him back. 

‘Adrikins! You came!’ 

‘Of course! But you’ll never believe who else did…’ He says mysteriously, before grabbing her hand and pulling her through the crowd. 

Aunt Emilie has been awfully sick. She’s been sick for a long time now, but whenever Chloe would ask about it, her godmother would wave away her concerns and say she was fine. Chloe still doesn’t know what she’s sick with. Over the last few years, Emilie’s only gotten worse. She has terrible coughing fits, bouts of confusion or anger that come out of nowhere, and terrible spells that Uncle Gabe calls “episodes”. Chloe has never seen one of the episodes, but Adrien told her they were awful, and made him so scared that he couldn’t get them out of his head.

Several months ago, Emilie took time off of work so she could stay at home, to try to rest to get better. Chloe thought that was a good idea, when she was sick she got to stay home and eat as many sweet things as she ordered, at it always made her feel better. Adrien stopped going out as much, staying at home to keep his mother company. At first Chloe would go over all the time to see them. But as the months passed, Emilie didn’t seem to be getting better. So Uncle Gabe said his wife needed proper rest, and that Chloe should give her the space to do so. Chloe started shortening her visits, then decreasing her visits - first to twice a week, then once a week, then every fortnight - always under her godfather’s watchful and disapproving gaze. Her last visit got cancelled because Emilie needed a visit from the doctor, so Chloe hasn’t seen her for almost a month. 

So when Adrien pulls Chloe through the crowd, she’s expecting to see someone like Jagged Stone or the President. Instead she sees Uncle Gabe, frowning like he always does nowadays, but beside him, grinning without a care in the world, is her Aunt Emilie. 

Chloe gasps and races forwards (in a very undignified way) and throws her arms around Emilie. 

‘Careful, Chloe!’ Gabriel snaps, steadying Emilie with his hand, but Emilie shushes him and wraps her arms tightly around the birthday girl. 

‘I didn’t think you could come?!’ Chloe says, her face still buried in her aunt’s jacket. Emilie runs a hand over Chloe’s fancy hairdo. 

‘Well, I couldn’t miss your 11th birthday now, could I?’ Emilie says, tucking a strand of Chloe’s hair back into place, and Chloe smiles up at her. ‘It’s a very important occasion. Happy birthday, dear.’ 

‘Yes, happy birthday.’ Gabriel echoes. 

Chloe sniffs, and steps back, remembering herself and smoothing out her skirt. ‘Thank you for coming.’ She says politely, but she’s still smiling brightly. That’s when she gets a good look at her aunt. She’s very pale, supporting most of her weight on her cane, and she’s wearing a winter coat even though it’s September. But her smile is just the same as ever, so Chloe puts it out of her mind, and eagerly shows off her party and her presents to her new guests. 

#chloe bourgeois #emilie agreste #adrien & chloe #mlb #miraculous ladybug #my fics #my post

[scarletttries]

You Are In Love (Eddie Munson x Reader series)

Part Three: Coffee at Midnight

Pairing: Eddie Munson (Stranger Things) x F! Reader

Tags: Pure fluff, hints of Eddie's mum having passed away. They eat cotton candy and go on a Ferris wheel if loose descriptions of food or heights are unsettling for you ☺️

Word Count: 3.3k

Author's Note: This is the third part of an Eddie Munson series inspired by Taylor Swift's "You Are In Love". Links for part one and part two :) As always please feel free to send me other Eddie Munson thoughts and headcanons <3

Coffee at Midnight

Eddie had driven to Dustin Henderson's house more times than he cared to count, but as he rolled down the familiar street his heart hammered in his chest, really noticing the little house beside Dustin's for the first time.

He'd given himself way too much time to get here, terrified of being late, and now aimlessly circling your block until an acceptable time to pull up outside arrived. Deep down he was thankful for the extra time to build up his nerve, anxiously combing his hair into place over and over with his free hand, fixing the collar of the corduroy jacket he'd borrowed from Wayne, trying to look beyond reproach as he finally came to a halt outside your door.

He couldn't quite work out whether nerves or excitement were winning the battle in his unsettled stomach as he stepped cautiously towards the dark front door, reminding himself that you had asked him for this, that you didn't have to do that, that you wanted this too. Stilling himself on your front step, Eddie took the deepest breath he could ever remember taking, and knocked firmly.

---

You watched from your window as Eddie pulled up outside, exactly on time. Flurrying around your room you pulled on your trainers and threw a sweater in your backpack before tearing down the stairs, missing his apprehensive journey from van to door, but noticing the knock took a little longer to come than it should have. As you pulled open the door, you both smiled - wide, bright, sincere smiles. The smiles of two people who were genuinely and deeply happy to see each other. You both let out a nervous chuckle in recognition of that, before you broke the quiet,

"Hi Eddie, thanks for driving." His heart leapt a little hearing you say his name, like he'd never heard it said quite right before.

"You're welcome (y/n), are you ready to go?" He waved towards his van and you nodded, pulling the door shut behind you. Turning your attention back to Eddie you found yourself a little bit dazed at the sight of him. In the soft glow of your porch light he looked especially perfect, his hair neater than usual, the soft tan jacket almost inviting you into his arms, his dark eyes highlighted against the night sky. You resisted the temptation to glance down at his lips, sure they'd be look endlessly tempting in the light's embrace, and stayed fixed to his stare instead,

"You look really nice Eddie." You offered warmly, taking steady steps towards his van as he fixed himself at your side, completely entranced by your kind words, not sure he'd ever heard that sentence before.

"Thank you." He said softly, cheeks already beginning to ache a little from the smile you gave him no choice but to wear, catching himself quickly,

"And you too! I mean, you look really nice too. Very pretty." He cursed himself until you smiled back, just as happy in his company. He opened the passenger door for you, taking a mental snapshot of you happily climbing into his van as an image as he would treasure for a long time. "You can pick a tape for the drive if you want, there are a bunch in the glove compartment." Before carefully closing the door behind you, watching you begin to rummage intently as he made his way to the driver's side. As he buckled up, he watched you pull a few favourites into your lap before finally whittling it down to a single record, holding it out proudly towards him.

"Excellent choice (y/l/n)." He replied equally proudly, cranking up the volume as he pulled onto the road with far more caution than usual, precious cargo on his mind.

---

The drive out of town passed in comfortable quiet, the music filling the van as you enjoyed the lines of amber trees surrounding the road. The lights of the fairground illuminated the sky from a considerable distance, and by the time you entered through the little turnstiles you were totally in awe of the bright carnival atmosphere. It wasn't too busy for a Friday night, plenty of room to roam around, but you still held your hand out for Eddie, who didn't hesitate to thread his fingers carefully through yourself, slotting into place like you were made to fit together.

"Shall we do a tour first, case the joint for the most winnable looking games?" You asked, noticing that Eddie's gaze wasn't as captivated by the flashy stands and rides, preferring to flick down to your interlocked hands in happy disbelief.

"Absolutely, I only came on the promise of an obnoxiously large stuffed animal." Feigning a disinterested tone for a second before looking back at you excitedly, "Lead the way sweetheart."

You toured the stands, half looking at stalls, half sharing stories. It started with simple conversation; what would you usually be doing on a Friday night? What classes did you hate the most? Why were you both friends with a number of nerdy freshmen? It was so easy to talk to Eddie, every word met with interest and delight, relishing in his own opportunity to be open with someone who really wanted to listen. It moved easily to how your families ended up in Hawkins, how you both wanted to get out of this small town when you graduated, the things that brought you joy, and what things were like at home. And it felt so good to tell each other your stories, like somehow you both already knew those answers and were just waiting for the other to remind you. Like you had never not been friends, never kept a secret, never put up a wall. As you talked neither of you acknowledged that you'd been walking around the fair in circles for an hour, not stopping at a single stall or ride. Finally as Eddie was telling you a memory of baking with his mother he'd forgotten that he had, you squeezing his hand reassuringly as he spoke, something caught your eye.

"If you're ready for me to keep my promise, I think I know which game I can win." You said excitedly, pulling an enamored Eddie towards one of the stalls. There were a lot of benefits to being the go-to babysitter for a lot of the younger kids in town, one of which is it was hard not to pick up some of their hobbies as you passed the time together. And three years of babysitting Lucas Sinclair had included a fair amount of basketball practice (there isn't enough time in the world to cover everything you'd learnt from his sister Erica). So Eddie watched in awe as you stepped confidently up to the stall, handing over a ticket and throwing a cocky smile his way.

"You should start picking out what prize you want, this won't take long." The man on the booth scoffed at your confidence as he handed you a plastic tub full of balls and turned over his hourglass timer. Trying to ignore Eddie's focused gaze on the back of your neck, you took a deep breath and then began throwing, any nerves quickly vanishing as each ball sailed through the air and straight into the hoop in front of you. Eddie watched as you smiled, carefree as you landed shot after shot, emptying the bucket quickly and never missing your target. As the last ball crashed through the hoop you took a little bow, a begrudging applause coming from the booth operator as Eddie imitated a cheering crowd,

"The crowd goes wild, confused but amazed as a cheerleader steps up and lands the final shot of the game!" He relished in the laugh that leaves your lips, before the man at the stall cleared his throat drawing his attention back to you,

"And which prize do you want?" Staring at the display of large teddies hung up above him. You scanned the different coloured bears, waiting for Eddie's response, only to find his eyes fixed to his slightly shuffling feet, awaiting your decision.

"The black one please!" You chimed cheerily, leaning over to whisper to Eddie as your prize was retrieved, "I figure that one's the most metal."

"Great choice." He laughed as you received the three foot reward, thanking the carny and turning to Eddie. You extended your hands towards him, the bear facing up at him with almost matching dark eyes.

"Edward Munson, please will you accept this large, goth bear as a token of my first date affections?" You said formally, hoping his reluctance to choose a prize hadn't been a sign of reluctance to accept the promised gift. Eddie's stomach felt completely alight at the gesture, finally getting why people called it 'lovesick.' He took the bear in his hands, a tangible reminder that you had asked him on a date, and actually followed through, not to mention the first gift a girl had given him since his mum, and choked on the small laugh in his throat, worried it could turn into a happy sob at any moment.

"It would be an honour." He replied, tucking the bear under one arm so his free hand could claspe yours again. "Come on, let me attempt to win you something much less impressive in return."

"If you fail, your gift to me can be laughing at you." You replied, beaming smile on your face only setting Eddie's laughter off again. You spoke again, tone slightly more reserved, "Does anyone actually call you Edward?" He thought back to the previous times he'd heard the word, always muttered with such warm affection that it almost made sense that it suited your voice.

"Not for a while, but you're welcome to." He shrugged as he walked, watching you nod in understanding. It made sense that he liked to hear you say Edward. His mum would've really liked you.

---

Having had a slightly poorer showing on the games booths, you held your small gift with pride, a small brown bear holding a little red checked heart, the best Eddie could do with his athletic abilities. Your hands lay comfortably intertwined by your sides as you roamed around the grassy park, the gap between your strolling bodies getting smaller and smaller as you played different games, watched people at the sideshows and finally approached your final stop of the night,

"Are you up for a spin on the ferris wheel Eddie?" You looked up at him, eyes reflecting the bright lights above you, and he nodded, happy to follow you anywhere if it made you keep staring at him that way. You waved to the girl ushering people on to the little ferris wheel seats, recognising her from one of your classes at school.

"Hey (y/n)! Take a seat. You want a polaroid of you sat here for a dollar?" You nodded, quickly pulling out a couple of notes from your backpack,

"Hey Kara, can I have two? For me and Eddiel" It was only then she seemed to notice the metalhead attached sheepishly to your hand, giving him a nod as she made sense of the pairing.

"Sure, you two lovebirds take a seat." She came back with a smirk, lifting the camera as you and Eddie settled in the centre of the bench, exchanged bears sat either side of you. "Smile!" Kara called cheerfully, snapping the first photo and pulling out the polaroid to set up the next. You glanced over at Eddie, expecting his tongue out, fingers up in devil horns, only to find him giving his best smile, your own softening as you drank in his features long enough to hear the second snap of the camera. "Okay, you two are the last seat so you'll go all the way round." Kara called as she gave a thumbs up to the control booth. You realised as the little seat swang into motion that you were still staring over at Eddie, who had now noticed your focus. Your stomach did a flip as his eyes met yours, quickly looking down at your bear, feeling unusually nervous.

"Are you going to name your bear?" You held your small toy in your hands, lifting it to eye level to get a better look.

"Hmm, I don't know. Maybe I'll save it for my next DnD campaign and name it after my big bad," pausing to look over at you with a mischievous grin, "a villian with impeccable aim of course." You enjoyed the idea that the legacy of your date would overrun into his fantasy world, turning your bear over again and watching the light catch in its dark eyes.

"What about yours? I think the little guy still deserves a name." He watched as you mulled thoughtfully before answering,

"I'll call it Eddie Bear." You beamed in response, watching Eddie look just as thrilled with his new found title. He pretended to shake the bear's hand before leaning over to whisper in your ear,

"As long as he's not your favourite Eddie." You shook your head, turning to offer reassurance but freezing as your nose met Eddie's, not quite realising his proximity before now. You took a sharp breath in, the sight of Eddie looking warmly at you as the woods around Hawkins lowered in the skyline behind him, stars painting his face in golden light making it hard to find any words to say. Eddie stared at you with the same trepidation, never quite expecting to find himself in this position, teetering on the edge of something so miraculous. He pulled his nose back slightly, less than an inch, but just enough to give you space if that's what you wanted. It wasn't.

You leaned further towards him until the tips of your noses met again, then moving past that, slowly, carefully, eagerly pressing your lips against his. They felt warm against the cold October breeze, softer than you expected, an inviting embrace that made your head swim before you pulled away to take a grounding breath. Disbelief washed over Eddie as he ran his tongue softly over his now blessed lips, eager to taste any trace you left behind. His hand found your neck, moving to cup one side of it, his thumb tracing the outline of your jaw as he moved to kiss you again, interrupted by a sharp swing of your seat as it came to a sudden halt.

"Thank you for riding the ferris wheel, here are your polaroids and please enjoy the rest of the fair." You both must have looked a little sheepish, blushing as you gathered your things and dismounted the swinging bench, avoiding the smirking gaze of the girl from class.

"I'm, um," You mumbled, feeling the warmth spreading across your cheeks as you fought to control your growing smile, "going to grab us a candy floss, why don't you go pick a hay bale for us to sit on?" Eddie nodded dutifully, not yet able to form a coherent thought through the fog of excited anxiety clouding his whole being. He watched as you strode over to a cart, keeping his eyes fixed to you as he settled onto a blanketed hay bale, his dark bear placed beside him. As he followed your movements, he heard a snort behind him, turning to see a group of classmates settled at a picnic table nearby. Eddie recognised their mocking gazes, smirking at the sight of him, sat alone with his prize, feeling the thrill of seeing the town freak out in the wild. He thought about standing up, saying something, suddenly feeling conscious about his situation, but didn't have to.

"Here, you can have first bite, let me know if it's the good stuff." You sat happily across from Eddie, crossing your legs so you could slot between his open knees. Eddie grinned as he took a bite of the treat, watching confused expressions replace cruel ones on the bench of classmates nearby. Eddie grinned to himself, any feeling of shame immediately dispelled by your presence as you brushed a strand of hair off his face, tucking it behind his ear to protect it from the sugary web. He quickly leaned into your touch, own hand finding your cheek once again and this time not letting anything interrupt him as his lips found yours. This kiss was more confident as you smiled against his touch, playfully leaning in for more of the sweet taste of him before breaking away.

"I think it's the good stuff." Eddie joked, allowing himself to steal a glance at the now astonished group of teens to his left as you pulled clumps of the cotton candy off with your fingers before bringing them to your lips,

"I hope you don't just mean the candy." You replied with a wink, giving Eddie no choice but lean forward and find your lips again.

--

As the lights of the fairground began to dim, you finally made your way back to Eddie's van, both of you taking slow deliberate steps, stretching out the walk in reluctance to end your evening. You talked slowly about the Saturday job you were heading to in the morning, the good and the bad, your favourite customers, and the worst parts, Eddie drinking in every word like it might sustain him in your time apart. As you approached the van he dashed forward quickly, pulling open the passenger side door ahead of you. As you stepped around him to enter he quickly put his bear in your place, pretending to be startled as he noticed you beside him.

"Oh i'm sorry, I just thought you'd know that only the most important passenger rides shotgun." He shrugged dismissively, watching as your solemn expression,

"I understand, I guess your bear does have littler legs than me, I can make the walk home." You took one trundling step away from the van before Eddie's arms looped around your waist, pulling you up into his chest, twirling you in the arm,

"Oh no you don't!" He commanded, lifting you onto your rightful seat and placing the bear on your lap before pulling the seatbelt across you both, stealing a chaste kiss as he leant forward to click it into place. He carefully shut the door, grinning with the novelty of actually being able to kiss you as he pleased, struggling to remember a time he'd ever felt quite this hopeful. As he drove the van across the now empty lot and joined the highway back to Hawkins he felt his stomach drop a little at the thought of your night coming to an end.

"So what next? Shall we go to a bar? Go for a hike? Get some coffee?" He listed enthusiastically, struck down by the yawn you disguised in a giggle,

" Eddie, have you seen the time! We can't get coffee at midnight." He sighed, but didn't protest as he followed along the road. You watched the slightly deflated look on his face at your statement, before adding,

"At least not tonight. We'll have to save that for another date." You watched as his face lit up, unsure how he could ever think you wouldn't have wanted a follow up for such a perfect evening. As he took in your words you pulled out the two polaroids, stashing one in your bag and looking closely at the second. The one where instead of looking at the camera, you were looking right at Eddie, soft eyes full of affection clear even in the small, grainy photo. You tucked it into the glove compartment subtly, scanning through the tapes at the same time, a gift for later. Eddie watched your movements in his periphery, turning over your comment in his head before he nodded happily, and echoed,

"Another date."

You Are In Love taglist:

@lacrymosa-24 @aftermidnightwriting @fluttergirl1202 @tayhar811 @souls-rain @neewtmas @omgsquee2001

#writing #one shot #fanfiction #stranger things eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie my beloved #eddie x you #eddie munson fluff #you are in love

[weilongfu]

AkkTheo celebrating a romantic Christmas in Paris~

Prior to his time in France, Akk knew that Christmas was a largely commercial holiday in many countries. Sure it had many more connotations in those countries; a time of being together with family and friends, gathering to share warmth and light in the cold dark, and most importantly the sharing of kindness and generosity. But in Thailand where the bulk of individuals were Buddhist and there was never much of anything in the way of a winter wonderland, the most Akk looked forward to were the Christmas lights in the mall along with cotton fluff snow and maybe a present if his other friends were in the mood to exchange.

So upon moving to Paris for his program and staying with Theo, Akk had a feeling Theo would be more excited for Christmas. The other boy had spent many of his formative years in France, living with a different culture, so naturally, his affinity for the winter holiday would be different than Akk's.

Akk did not anticipate the degree to which he would be correct.

Winter came swiftly upon the European city and Theo was already prepared with piles of sweaters, warm coats, scarves, hats, and gloves. All of which were shared with Akk, who had come completely unprepared for the cold.

"I thought we were going back to Thailand for the winter," Akk groused as he huddled down into his borrowed scarf which smelled like Theo's expensive cologne.

"We'll go back for the new year," Theo promised as he reached for Akk's gloved hand which was further stuffed into a jacket pocket. "I want you to experience Christmas here with me! We'll get mulled wine, gingerbread cookies, maybe make a croquembouche and decorate it like a Christmas tree..." Theo rambled on and Akk took a mental snapshot of Theo's sparkling eyes against the backdrop of nighttime Paris, awash in the gold and red of Christmas lights. It would have had to be a color print, Akk decided, for only then could the wash of colors in Theo's brown hair be truly appreciated.

As Christmas approached, Akk watched as lights went up in their shared apartment along with a genuine pine tree that Theo bought from a tree lot and had Akk help him drag up the three flights of stairs. The entire apartment was filled with the smell of pine which made Akk sneeze until he acclimated. Boxes of old ornaments from Theo's grandmother were brought out and Theo told Akk the story of each ornament painted by a child Theo.

Their date nights after classes were spent going to shops to see their Christmas displays. Gifts on sale were purchased for family along side cups of warm mulled wine as Theo promised. Akk made a particular attempt to keep his gift secret, waiting for Theo to wander off to the other side of the jewelry shop before purchasing it.

Instead of gingerbread cookies, Theo could only find ginger snaps filled with bourbon cream which Akk found overly sticky and sweet, until he had one with extra bourbon and sprinkled with a hint of nutmeg. Dark chocolate oranges, however, became Akk's favorite holiday treat as opposed to Theo's preference for peppermint bark.

Christmas day itself was spent with a late morning, Akk refused to get out of their warm bed to face the cold morning, but emerged once Theo made coffee. Afternoon lunch was cold sandwiches as they both worked to prepare their private holiday dinner.

Shopping for the smallest turkey possible had still been quite a task and Akk was sure they'd be eating its remains for the next two months. Theo had also insisted on other traditional items like gougeres, roasted carrot soup, gratin dauphinois, and green beans almondine.

"It'll be worth the work," Theo promised as he sliced potatoes on the mandolin. "You'll see."

"I can't even pronounce half these dishes, Theo," Akk said as he mixed choux pastry for the gougeres.

"You don't have to pronounce them. Just eat them with me later."

After all their hard work, Akk had to admit that the small dining table lit with candles and decorated with holly was quite romantic, even with all their dishes piled around it. Theo fed Akk the first bite of everything and Akk begrudgingly admitted that the traditional dinner had been quite good.

Snow began to fall again as Theo and Akk looked out over the Paris skyline, glasses of dessert wine in hand. "So, how was your first Christmas in Paris," Theo asked as he took a sip, his other hand fussing about in one of his cardigan pockets.

"Colder than I expected," Akk replied before thrusting a small jewelry box at Theo. "So here's your reward for making Christmas interesting."

Theo frowned. "That's not the point of Christmas," he said as he took the box. "I- Oh..." Theo's expression softened as he looked at the silver bracelet with a camera charm.

"Just something small," Akk said with as much nonchalance in his voice as he could spare. "I know I already gave you a ring but..."

Theo huffed and finally pulled out what he'd been fussing with in his cardigan pocket. "Then here, this is for you. Something just as small." In the candlelight, Akk realized it was one of the other bracelets from the jewelry store, the one with a book charm instead.

With one hand, Akk gently accepted the bracelet and with his other, he cupped Theo's cheek and pulled him in for a kiss.

In the coming Christmases, regardless of where Theo and Akk were, Akk's photo of their clasped hands with matching bracelets shining in the light was always in the forefront of their decorations.

#enchante #akktheo #prompt spam weekend #winterpromptspam2023

[notthestarwar]

I've come to realise the only way I'll get out of this block is by writing my way out of it, so I've just gotta keep writing things even if I'm not entirely happy with them.

Wanted to share this snippet from one of my wips that i am kinda happy with (parts of it anyway lol)

It's from this. Purge trooper Cody time travels and finds himself on the spice ship Jango is enslaved on.

On the fifth night, Cody finds his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Were you always a slave, Jango?" He asks. Tone as light as he can manage.

After he left Kamino, Cody had heard whispers of who Jango Fett had been before Cody and his brothers had the misfortune of knowing him.

They'd said that he was Mandalorian, that he'd once been a leader, before he lost his people to some tragedy, before he'd learnt to hate the very people he was building an army for. They said that he'd had a run in with the Jedi, and thanks to that, he'd lost them all.

They hadn't said that he'd been a slave.

It hadn't made sense at the time, that Jango might hate the Jedi, and still, go to efforts to train their army, donate his very genetic material to the cause, but then came Cody's life after the Republic.

In the aftermath of that, he'd soon come to realise that Jango never intended to do the Jedi a favour. The army he built was simply a trap, wrapped up with a neat bow.

Cody and his brothers were meant for the Jedi, but not to serve them, not as they'd been told, the clones were meant to secure their end.

For Jango Fett, the clones he'd leant life to, were only a means to an end. He'd let them borrow his body only so they might secure revenge in his absense. The people they'd grown to be, independent of him? Simply collateral damage.

Cody had thought he'd understood, for those years, under Vaders thumb.

When he finally knew that the clones had been no gift to the Jedi, it was as if a puzzle piece had slotted in to place.

The conflict in what he knew of Jango's motivations, was resolved. He was one step closer to knowing an unknowable man. If anyone was capable of understanding Jango Fett, surely it would be his clone. The mystery of Cody's life, was finally concluded. Just in time, as all that he'd ever known, came crashing down around him.

Jango hadn't been a mystery to him for many years.

Even without a part of himself, Cody had been able to figure out the sum of him.

Even when that part was returned to him, he'd been sure he still understood. Falling through that void, finally Cody again, he'd thought he understood the circumstances of his birth.

He had thought he'd known the measure of the man who had been both the beginning and the end, of all that Cody had ever had.

Then he'd landed here, and with only a glimpse, a snapshot of who Jango had once been, he was left in the dark once again.

This Jango was a person Cody had never met, and yet, he was more familiar than ever.

Cody had never seen Jango when he looked at his brothers. Jango was something else.

None of his brothers would ever become what Jango was. They hadn't had the chance to.

Since Geonosis, the only place Cody had ever saw a glimpse of his maker was in the mirror.

And yet, here he was.

Reunited with the only person sharing this face that Cody had never missed.

What would happen to this boy?

What was yet to come that would turn him in to the man that Cody had known, that Cody had feared?

If this was his start, how did he ever get to Kamino?

This boy was no leader. He was a slave, and he was alone.

Was he fated to find a people, and lose them all, in the years that came after his life on this ship?

Where did the Jedi come in to things?

Cody is beginning to think Jango hadn't heard him, but then, finally, he shakes his head.

"No."

Cody felt his brow furrow.

He wondered what might bring a free man here, to this ship, in this room.

How does one that's always been free become a slave?

Cody wouldn't know. He's never known freedom. Not yet.

"I'm a Mandalorian." Jango told him. "I'm from a planet called Concord Dawn. It's a farming world, on the outskirts of the system."

Cody doesn't know it.

"My parents were killed when I was a boy by a terrorist group, operating on the fringes of society." Jango continues. "I joined a group of mercenaries, trying to live traditionally, honorably, while opposing them."

"We were betrayed, multiple times actually."

"First, our leaders second killed him, my mentor, on enemy orders and then, after I took lead, a corrupt governor plotted with them to trap us. He hired us for a job and then, set us up. He called for Republic assistance, th jedi came and without checking the facts, they attacked my people. I killed 6 of them, but it wasn't enough. They killed my people and then handed me over to the governor. He told me what he'd done, stripped me of my armour, and sold me to a slaver. I've been here ever since."

What would it take for a man to sell himself, a few million times over, in search of revenge?

Cody thought about that story. About what Jango had lost to get here.

He thought about living on this ship, cold and alone; he thought about what that might do to a man, after a few years; he thought about the man he'd known: cold and cruel.

"What would you give? For revenge against the Jedi?" He asks finally.

Jango gives him a long look. "Not that." He says shortly. "Not what you say I did eventually give. Not what I maybe one day will."

"I don't know why I did that Cody. I can't give you that, I can't tell you why. I wouldn't sell my children. I wouldn't do it. Not for credits nor glory. I wouldn't stand by as they took your childhood, I wouldn't help anyone do that. And I wouldn't let them put chips in you."

"I have a slave chip." Jango tells him. "If I leave this ship, they kill me. Don't even have to think about it. It's an automated process. I get too far from the detonator? Boom." He shakes his head. "I wouldn't do that to another person. Let alone someone made from me, but you're sitting here, proof that I did.”

“I know you aren't lying, because if you were, I'd see it. You're wearing my face. I'd know."

Would he?

"So either, I've imagined you, most likely, I've invented all of this." Jango turned wide eyes on him. "Or, you're real. You're real and you've really been sharing my dinner and my water and I'm not going without a blanket for no reason."

"And for some banthashit reason, the fates dumped you here, so you could tell me about it."

"What does that mean?" Jango asks.

"Are you supposed to convince me not to? Because you don't need to. I'm convinced. I would be even if you werent here. I wouldn't do that, but apparently I did."

"Which only leaves me with one answer"

"This ship is changing me, will change me, in all the ways I've been afraid it might."

"It will turn me in to someone I never wanted to be and then, I will turn on you, all that was once turned on me."

"I don't want this. I don't want to be that person. I don't want anyone to share my fate."

They sit in silence for a while.

#snippet #wip #my writing ntwyw #mywriting ntwyw

[gay-jesus-probably]

Random old movie suggestion: The War Game (1965), which I believe may have been the very first movie seriously exploring how nobody can possibly win a serious nuclear war. At the time, it was considered so disturbing that it was immediately banned from being shown in theatres or aired on TV; they decided it could only be shown to an audience that had specifically been invited to watch it.

it was supposed to be released on October 6th, 1965, but the ban meant it wasn't premiered until April 13th, at the 1966 National Film Festival, where it was shown until May 3rd. This movie is specifically about the United Kingdom's nuclear policies and how they would fare in an actual attack, but it ran for less than a month in Britain before being shut down for good - after that, the only audience the film got was in foreign film festivals (where it routinely won awards anyways).

The ban was eventually lifted, and The War Game was aired on British television... but not until 1985, twenty years after it was made, and that was only because it looked like a cheerful distraction next to Threads (1984), the infamous movie that thought The Day After (1983) was being too optimistic about the aftermath of a nuclear apocalypse. And The Day After full on showed you a third of the cast being obliterated in the nuclear strike, then made sure you knew they were lucky to die instantly as every other character died slow, agonizing deaths in a hopeless, radioactive wasteland. Threads was much, much worse.

Anyways, I'd call The War Game the earliest incarnation of The Day After and Threads, and it's a very important snapshot of British nuclear policy and public opinions during the 1960's. Especially since they treat the movie as an interesting blend between fake documentary and real documentary - half of it is a mockumentary of a nuclear war and its aftermath, with interviews of people discussing their lives in the aftermath of the end of the world, while the other half is an actual documentary about the nuclear policies of the time, featuring interviews with actual civilians and officials about how the nuclear policies are supposed to work, and how much the general public actually understands. The whole movie just sort of bounces back and forth between the two, and it really works.

One thing I really like about comparing The War Game, The Day After and Threads is that you can actually see each movie focusing on different things as science learned more about the effects of nuclear bombs. Like, The Day After goes hard on how the bombing would kill a lot of people, but the radiation in the aftermath would get everyone else, and the people that didn't die of radiation poisoning would eventually starve to death, as all the livestock are dead and the topsoil is too irradiated for planting. Threads took that even further, as it was the only of the three movies to be made after Carl Sagan had published his theory of nuclear winter - as in, Threads was literally the first movie to ever show a nuclear winter.

The War Game barely even mentions radiation, they don't consider it to be something worth worrying about - they're a lot more concerned about the fact that a nuclear strike would set the entire goddamn island on fire, and that alone would kill most of the population while leaving the survivors horrifically traumatized. Also, they just genuinely did not have access to that sort of information - British Civil Defence knew they were making a movie criticizing nuclear war as being suicidal for everyone involved, so they refused to cooperate with the filmmakers at all, they had very little access to government information on nuclear bombs. The movie focuses on the devastation of the fire, because the only officials willing to work with them were firefighters, who were absolutely fucking terrified of a nuclear war occurring, because they were the only ones that had realized just how bad the fires would be. The filmmakers also studied the WW2 bombings of Dresden for their research on the firestorm phenomenon (which was definitely a risk in Britain, with very limited land and very dense population).

[toomanybandstocare]

{What the Older ST Characters Wear as Halloween Costumes}

Program: Just some spooky thoughts about how the older Stranger Things characters would dress up for a Halloween party.

Counselors: Argyle, Robin, Jonathan, Billy, Steve, Eddie, & Nancy

Genre: Fluff, Headcanon, Request

Warnings: Couple of swears, Mentions of drinking and drinking games, Mentions of weed and cigarettes, Not proofed

Counselor Notes: Thank you @staygoldwriting for the inspo! I was so tired from work today and didn't really know what to write. So incredibly sweet of you send a request <3 I had a lot of fun with this, but some of them were a challenge! I'm really happy with the lil scenarios and costume picks I cam up with :)

Argyle -> Inigo Montoya

Argyle is obsessed with is hair in the most non-vain way possible. He looks at himself and is filled with love by what he sees in the mirror. I just genuinely believe that he loves himself for who he is and cannot wait to see how he grows and changes with time. That leads me to think that he would want to show off his favorite features, and I think one of them would be his hair. Argyle is wooing everyone at the party. "I'm sorry, my lovely lady. I didn't mean to bump into you. Could I get you a drink to win back your favor?" "My good sir! I must say that you look incredibly dashing tonight. I'm afraid I'm going to have to steal you away later." "Have my eyes deceived me, or has the fairest being of all the land graced me with with their presence." Everyone is swooning for this Cali man.

Robin Buckley -> Lydia Deetz

I would absolutely do anything to see Robin with a smudegy eye shadow look and choker necklace. Best part of this, she can just give everyone shit and tease them like usual while saying, "I'm in character. Deal with it or drop dead". She borrows Jonathan's camera for the night and takes snapshots of all the haunting events of the night. And on a free weekend when the film develops and she saves up to get copies of the photos and materials, she makes a mini scrapbooks for the friend group.

Jonathan Byers -> Johnny

You can bet your ass that when he enters the party, Johnathan yells out, "Here's Johnny," with a fake hatchet. And the roaring reaction is so worth all nerves he dealt with when mustering the confidence on the way over. I don't think large parties are his scene, so he wanted to feel comfortable and needed to work with what he's got. Jonathan is a sucker for party games, so he is easily convinced to join whichever vice of the night. Truth or Dare? He loves to pull a prank on some unsuspecting party goer. King's Cup? You do not want to paired up as his "date", because he cannot for the life of him remember all of the rules and you will have to drink almost every time. Pong? Too good, and his favorite trick shot is to bounce it off the wall.

Billy Hargrove -> Johnny Castle

This man just wanted to look hot, and he did it. Brought his leather jacket and mega watt smile, and it was immediate game over for any other guys trying to win the attention. Everyone is asking if he can do the lift, so he spends the most of his night in the back yard indulging all the pretty people who ask. The rest of the night? Either dancing to the Top 100 on the radio for the Spooktacular special, or he's just hanging out with his friends. Billy's trying to slowly allow himself to feel comfortable past his looks around the group, so he figured that a party would be a good middle ground. He could retreat to his flirty facade if he got too overwhelmed, and if he felt himself slipping, Billy could just hang out with one of the group.

Steve Harrington -> Han Solo

This man is a menace. He knows he's good looking. He knows that everyone has eyes for him and Harrison Ford. He knows what he's doing. But in all seriousness, Steve just wants to goof around with his friends. Definitely holds a pretty person "hostage" until their bounty is paid (either in head scratches, alcohol, weed, or cigs- he's not picky). When one of his friends comes into sight, Steve draws his water gun, that he spray painted black to try to make it look similar, and shoots them.

Eddie Munson -> Lost Boy

I think as much as Eddie loves to dress up, he wants to still be himself. So, he'll sort of insert himself into a franchise universe and dress up as if he was a character in it. Eddie loves the Lost Boys since he can see his some of his usual style peek through, but it also gives him a chance to explore a bit more of the glam rock aesthetic as well. And you know he has packets of fake blood to "bite" people and then leave a trail of blood on them. It's his personal goal to get each of his friends by the end of the night. Bonus points if they never realize he's targeting them.

Nancy Wheeler -> Heathers

So I've never seen the movie or musical, but when I think of Nancy- I think of her iconic prep aesthetic. I do think that she would want to stay somewhat in her comfort zone (I personally think she uses her clothes as a mental armor for the day just as Eddie), but she feels encouraged and supported to relax with her friends. She feels safe to experiment. I think she has a ball with her outfit, because she feels comfort and attractive at the same time. She carries around a matching croquette mallet and takes photos with everyone. She also carries a little purse where she manages to convince every party guest to give her something as party cover even though it's not her party, she just like collecting mementos. So she ends up with a bag of bottle caps, scrunchies, matchbooks, little knickknacks.

#camp halfwit bulletin post #counselor mythos post #stranger things #stranger things headcanon #stranger things headcanons #stranger things fluff #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #stranger things one shot #stranger things one shots #argyle #argyle fluff #argyle headcanon #argyle imagine #argyle imagines #robin buckley #robin buckley headcanon #robin buckley headcanons #robin buckley imagine #robin buckley imagines #jonathan byers #jonathan byers headcanon #jonathan byers headcanons #jonathan byers imagine #jonathan byers imagines #billy hargrove #billy hargrove headcanon #billy hargrove headcanons #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove imagines

[xiaoshengnu]

𝕰𝖒𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖘 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕻𝖆𝖑𝖆𝖈𝖊 - final review

overview : episode no - 76 episodes, genre - historical (gongdou)

a timeless classic, the slay to end all slays (and I mean literally and figuratively) empresses in the palace follows the story of zhen huan as she experiences life in the palace, hardening her from a sweet young girl to a stony empress dowager. 

l⃣e⃣ t⃣’ s⃣    b⃣e⃣g⃣i⃣n⃣

when I say you will never find a more iconic show ever in the whole of cdramaland, I mean never. empresses in the palace is an absolute juggernaut of a drama, it is absolutely insane, the writing, the drama, the characters, the absolute minute little details and its respect of the viewer’s intelligence- an A* and beyond. and it's internet and cultural presence in china? IN. SANE. 

o⃣u⃣t⃣     o⃣ f⃣     t⃣ e⃣ n⃣

𝖕𝖑𝖔𝖙 - 9/10

𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 - 10/10

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖘 - 10/10

𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖉𝖚𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 - 10/10

𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕒𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕒𝕘𝕖 - 9.8

o⃣u⃣t⃣    o⃣ f⃣    f⃣ i⃣v⃣ e⃣

𝖍𝖎𝖉𝖉𝖊𝖓 𝖌𝖊𝖒 𝖛𝖆𝖑𝖚𝖊 - 💎💎💎💎💎

[ I know that when the drama first came out, it was considered pretty unique for how brutally it presented harem life, but even years later and amongst so many newer dramas which have borrowed tropes and ideas from it, I don’t think you’ll be able to find such an incredibly solid drama. a five gem.  ]

𝖗𝖊𝖜𝖆𝖙𝖈𝖍 𝖛𝖆𝖑𝖚𝖊 - ✨✨✨✨✨

[ it is so incredibly long and a pretty emotionally tolling drama - even longer than legend of haolan but it is just incredible, a full five star rewatch value ]

‘keep reading’ for detailed review

oh my god this drama.

oh my god.

where do I even begin? I remember watching my parents watch this drama when was I was still really young so I didn’t know what the show was called and what it was about, and although I didn’t remember the whole of this drama I could still remember some hazy snapshots pretty iconic scenes- like at the end where she does to sleep, or when she gets sent to the island- so when I finally decided to watch empresses in the palace a light bulb went off and I suddenly realised that THIS was the show that I'd remembered from my childhood. THIS was it. so it is quite nostalgic for me. 

it is honestly such a timeless classic, there’s nothing that will ever beat it. nothing. every fucking second of this thing has a purpose, and everything the characters say and do- and even the background of scenes have minute details which relate to the overall plot and trajectory of these characters. like the amount of YouTube videos analysing this one drama is insane. when critics praise a piece of visual art as a “living breathing organism”, “a masterpiece”- they mean this. 

𝖕𝖑𝖔𝖙 - 9

just. amazing. what can I say. there’s absolutely nothing that can beat this drama with how it wrote the plotting, the intrigue and the absolute cunning the women had to possess to stay alive in the palace. the ending of the drama is literally perfect. SO perfect. younger me thought legend of haolan was good- but compared to this? this is really truly another level. there’s so many instances in the drama where the drama never really tells you what exactly happened, but at the same time gives you just enough information to just guess what had gone on. equally, there are some times where there really doesn’t appear to be any scheming but with close analysis (and with the help of trusty youtubers) suddenly things become thrown into light. 

however, I had to knock down a few points because every plot has flaws and for this drama, I think it was mostly the use of tropes and the ‘female lead syndrome’ that sometimes quite clearly shows in the drama. There are also some areas in the drama where the plot does get shaky, but there is never not a reason why a scene is included in the drama. its just such a watertight drama. if you ever need to learn the art of show but don’t tell, this drama has it all. I love that sometimes it leaves it up to the viewer to work the plot out, which mirrors the way in which the concubines had to guess and predict in order to survive- which wasn’t always for certain or always accurate, almost literally pulling the viewer into the world of harem life.

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖘 - 10

I LOVE THE CHARACTERS UGH. I love them. they’re slays to end all slays. from zhen huan (the original girl boss, gatekeep, gaslight- FIGHT ME) to su peisheng- honestly so iconic. every single major character was well written, well developed and multi-dimensional, and no-one was evil purely for the sake of earning the drama cash. everyone in the drama gives you a reason to root for them, I found myself even feeling for the emperor in the end. 

𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖉𝖚𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 - 10

the production was beautiful- the lighting, costuming and makeup were literally so perfect it's unreal. so many iconic scenes came out of this drama- like the yimeiyuan (plum blossom garden) scene with it's beautiful moonlit set and plum blossom decked in snow.

 I love the designated colour palettes of the various concubines everything seemed very thought out to fit their personalities. consort hua was decked in bold colours and extravagant patterns, consort jing being calm and gentle was consistently dressed in soft blues and greens, while shen meizhuang is seen wearing mostly purples and pinks. one particular costume that lives in my mind rent free is zhen huan’s blue outfit with the white plum blossom embroidery in the episode 28- absolutely stunning.

𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 - 10

honestly, if you took a shot for every time I've described this drama as perfect, you would definitely be on the floor by this point. The acting was absolutely now flawless. at no point in the drama did I ever feel drawn out of the story by the acting- sun li is jaw-dropping as zhen huan, her duality is absolutely insane and her crying scenes- ugh omg so good. 

.

.

𝖇𝖔𝖓𝖚𝖘!!

favourite character(s) :

zhen huan ( if your favourite character in this drama isn’t zhen huan, what are you doing???? she is an absolute icon in her own right. it’s literally impossible to not root for such a wonderful character- team zhen huan all the way )

consort hua / nian shilan ( ik ik, ik now she’s evil and everything, but I love her- she has a baseline which she will not cross and she does have a loyal heart. she loves the emperor almost unconditionally and while she would kill a concubine, she would never harm an unborn child. she seems to care for her servants, who are loyal in turn and I would argue that her being willing to employ a crippled eunuch is a sign of her more softer and caring side. and do I need even mention her snarky one liners?? slay. anyway that’s my essay in defence of consort hua )

ye lanyi ( a queen fr, she takes no-one’s shit )

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𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖜 (source mydramalist)

lead actors : sun li, chen jianbin, cha silfun

director : zheng xiaolong 

screenwriter : wu xuelan

#empresses in the palace #zhen huan #zhen huan zhuan #cdrama #cdrama recommendation #drama review #tv show review #Chinese Dramas #final review #sun li #betty sun #legend of zhen huan #shen meizhuang #nian shilan #guo junwang

[nightttdreamers]

Someone Still Loves You | Stan x Kyle

new style fic lets goooooo! it's going to be little snapshots of them growing up and figuring themselves out and also being in love. hope u like it and feel free 2 read on ao3!

AO3 Link | 6k+ words | Chapter 1/3

It's the summer before sophomore year. Kyle just got his braces off and Stan's palms are sweaty, for some reason.

Kyle has a nice smile , Stan decides, and the thought feels like it was beamed to him by aliens.

“What?” Kyle asks mid-laugh, still grinning at his friend.

Stan scrunches his face up, suddenly self-conscious of how Kyle can notice everything. “What?”

Kyle cocks his head, raising his brows expectantly, like Stan would ever explain what just went through his head. The two exchange expressions, and Stan hopes that if he just pretends Kyle’s acting odd too, the whole thing will just drop.

“Whatever, weirdo,” Kyle says, rolling his eyes. Stan lets out a small sigh of relief, slumping back against the wall. “Anyway, we’d have these practice debates, and then we’d do them at night in the dorms, but with stupid topics.”

“Yeah? Like what?” Stan asks, feeling a bit more comfortable staring as Kyle continues his story. He rubs his hands along his thighs, sitting cross-legged on the floor just across from his friend. There’s a strange, tingly sensation in his palms that just won’t go away. It’s been there all day, only getting worse once he actually entered the Broflovski household after eagerly waiting all day. Maybe it’s puberty.

The two boys haven’t seen each other in a month, which is the longest they’ve ever gone since they were in kindergarten. While Stan’s been stuck working on the farm all summer, Kyle has been at debate camp in California (Which wasn’t even a real camp, apparently. It was hosted by some fancy college and they stayed in the dorms . But it’s not like Stan cared).

Excited didn’t begin to describe how Stan had felt all day, it was more like electric. They only had two weeks before they started their sophomore year, and Stan was eager to get Kyle up to speed on what he’d been up to.

What he didn’t expect, however, was for Kyle to come back with stories of his own fantastic summer, the new friends he’d made, and how much better things were outside of South Park. It also doesn’t help that Kyle had gotten his braces off just before camp, and apparently smiled a whole lot more without them.

“-And they had like actual college students in the dorms too to, like, watch us. And they would get so pissed if we were being loud, which I would be too, but it was so funny.” Kyle sits back down on his legs, having gotten up on his knees as he told the story. “Maybe it was a you-had-to-be-there kind of thing.”

“No, no,” Stan says, shaking his head. “It’s funny. You and your debate friends would go wild and stay up all night debating each other, sounds crazy.”

Kyle scoffs, shooting Stan a harmless glare. “Shut up, dude. Like you did anything crazier.”

“Me and Kenny would go on joyrides,” Stan boasts, not even trying to hide the smug smile that comes across his face at Kyle’s expression.

“No fucking way,” Kyle says, jaw hanging open. Stan simply shrugs, pretending like he hasn’t been waiting to tell Kyle this for weeks. “In whose car?”

“Kevin got a new truck. Well, not new new, it’s a piece of shit, but he let us borrow it sometimes. Kenny and I would drive out until there wasn’t anything for miles around us and we’d just start doing donuts.” Now, it was Stan’s turn to get up, rising to his knees as his hands mime driving the car.

“Did you drive it?” Kyle asks, leaning forward.

Stan wanted to. It took some convincing, but Kenny had let him behind the wheel even though Kevin had explicitly said only his brother could drive it. But, Stan only made it about 50 feet before he had to stop, absolutely terrified that the moment he started driving they’d get caught.

“Kevin wouldn’t let me,” Stan says, shaking his head. It’s not a complete lie, but there’s no way he’s telling Kyle that he chickened out.

“Holy shit. I can’t believe I missed that,” Kyle says, shaking his head. Stan feels a small warmth in his chest, accompanied by a slight pang of guilt. It’s not like he wants Kyle to feel jealous or left out, but it does feel good to show the other that he doesn’t have to leave South Park to have a good time.

“We’ll probably try and go again,” Stan offers. “We still have, like, two weeks before school starts.”

Kyle lets out a groan, laying back on his floor. “Don’t remind me. God, my mom’s already talking about when we’re going back to school shopping. I haven’t even been home a day!”

Stan holds back a chuckle as he watches the other, waving his hands dramatically while he speaks. He knows better than to laugh at Kyle when he’s complaining. “Dude, she wasn’t even gonna let me come over tonight.”

“What?” Kyle exclaims, turning his face to look at Stan. “Why not?”

“I was calling her and asking when you were gonna get back, and she kept saying how she wants you to be with family tonight, how she had a whole dinner prepared, how she hasn’t ‘gotten you’ all summer. I was like, no shit, Sheila, I haven’t ‘gotten him’ either!”

Kyle lets out a laugh, looking back up at his ceiling. “Sounds like her. I think she’s mad I didn’t  write her back enough.”

“How many letters did you send?” Stan asks.

“Uh, I think it was two or three to her. She would send me these letters that were just pages of family news and drama at the synagogue and updates about Ike. I didn’t have anything to say back.”

Stan smiles, knowing that he and Kyle wrote back and forth at least once a week, and that no one got as many letters as he did. At a certain point, Kyle would just add a section to Stan’s letters that he could tell Kenny and Cartman, rather than writing the two on his own. “I feel like my letters were just pages of the same random bullshit.”

Kyle shakes his head. “No way, yours were at least relevant to stuff I care about. I actually wanted to read them, even though you conveniently left out how you did donuts with Kenny.”

The statement is a little pointed, but leave it to Kyle to call Stan out for something like that. “I just didn’t think words on paper could capture the, uh,” Stan stammers, trying to come up with something dramatic to say. “The spirit! The spirit and the thrill of the drive! You know, the open road, the blazing sun, the wind in your hair-”

His monologue is cut off when Kyle throws a pillow right at his face, which Stan quickly catches. When he turns to look at Kyle, the redhead is already sitting back up, eyes daring Stan to continue. “Sorry, were you saying something?”

Stan throws the pillow right back, but Kyle catches it with ease. “I thought you wanted to hear about my joyrides?” He asks, pretending to be offended. “It’s hard to put them into words you know.”

“So you chose to do spoken-word poetry instead of handwritten?” Kyle asks, cocking his head to the side.

Stan snickers, shaking his head. “Can you imagine me sending you poetry? How fucking gay.”

Kyle laughs after a moment, like it took him a beat to get the joke. Stan notices his hands twisting together, one picking at the other, but before he can mention something about it, Kyle is rising to his feet. “I have so much shit to unpack.”

Stan watches from the floor as Kyle gets up, walking to the suitcase on his bed. “Do you have to do that tonight?” He asks, tilting his body so he can look at Kyle’s face, which is turned away from him.

“I probably should, you know,” Kyle says, in that voice Stan absolutely hates. It’s his I-have-a-ton-of-homework or my-mom-wants-me-back-soon voice, meaning he wants Stan to leave, but is too polite to just ask outright.

“Shit, okay,” Stan mumbles, standing up. “I can get out of your hair.”

Kyle finally turns to look at him, his lips pressed together in a firm line. His eyes dart around Stan’s face for a second before he speaks. “Actually, do you want to just sleep over tonight?”

The question is a bit jarring, partially due to the complete shift in Kyle’s attitude, and partially because Stan hates the phrase “sleep over” with a passion. Their friends already give them enough shit for how much time they spend together, they don’t need to sound like babies who have “sleepovers” too.

Kyle, of course, picks up on the distasteful expression Stan has. “It’s fine if you don’t want to. I’m just kind of jet-lagged and I’m probably gonna stay up and I know it takes you a while to get over here so,” he trails off, idly picking at his hand once more.

“I’ll stay over,” Stan says, causing Kyle to grin. Looking at his friend’s smile, whatever unease was building in him settles back down. “I was gonna ask you, anyway. My dad keeps making me wake up early to work with him.”

Kyle offers a sympathetic groan, opening up his suitcase. Stan sits down on the bed beside it, folding his legs under himself to leave the other room to unpack. “Are you still working every day?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” Stan says with a nod. He wrote to Kyle a bit about working on the farm for the summer, but after his first few letters, there wasn’t much to say. It was the same thing every day, waking up at the crack of dawn, heading to the fields to plant or harvest, sometimes packaging their products, whatever Randy told him to do. “My dad wants to get everything out super early in the morning because he’s selling to restaurants and shit now, so the work needs an early start.”

“Is…” Kyle begins, pausing his unpacking to look at Stan. “Is your dad okay?”

Stan looks away as he speaks, fidgeting with the hem of his pants. The question is simple enough, but never something that’s easy to answer. Kyle likes to ask about his dad with simple questions like that, which Stan appreciates, because Kyle doesn’t ask is your dad still starting shouting fights with your mom every day or has your dad stopped getting wasted and cursing you out the minute you come home ?

“Yeah,” Stan says in a small voice, then adds, “The farm’s been busy all summer, so he has something to do, I guess.”

Kyle nods, turning back to the clothes on his bed. “That’s good. Any developments on the Shelley conspiracy theory?”

Stan smiles at the question, glad Kyle knows better than to dwell on a topic like Randy for long. “Dude, we have to be right, right?”

“I think so. She’s not really the generous type.”

Kyle is referring to a common topic in their letters, which is how Shelley has been driving Stan into town over the last month. Normally, she doesn’t have a choice in the matter, as their parents make her take Stan to school with her. If he wants to go into town, he either has to beg his mom or try and get a ride with Tolkien. But, his mom’s usually busy, and Tolkien’s been at his vacation home all summer, so he thought he’d be stranded.

However, over the last few weeks, Shelley had been showing uncharacteristic kindness and offering to drive him to Kenny’s house. Stan waited for the catch, like she wanted gas money or him to do her chores, but it never came. 

When Kyle heard about this, he quickly declared it a mystery that he wanted to solve. After going back and forth on various ideas, the two concluded that Shelley probably had a crush on Kevin McCormick. Since then, they’ve been seeking further proof of their conspiracy theory.

“She doesn’t even complain about driving me anymore. Usually, she’s like,” Stan clears his throat, doing a Shelley impression that is far more gravelly and deep than her real voice. “‘Ugh, whatever, I’ll drive you, but don’t talk to me or touch my CDs for the entire ride.’ But the other day I asked if she would take me to Kenny’s and she just said ‘whatever,’ nothing else.”

“Does she even see Kevin when she takes you?” Kyle asks.

“Barely,” Stan responds. “If he’s outside, she just tells me to get out and drives away. She doesn’t even try to talk to him. Girls are so weird.”

Kyle snorts, turning his face away when Stan looks up at him. “Sorry, it’s just funny hearing you make fun of her, like you wouldn’t do the same thing.”

“What?” Stan replies, sitting up a bit. “No I wouldn’t.”

“Yeah you would,” Kyle says, continuing to empty his suitcase as he speaks. “You’re both total chickens when you like someone. Even if you’re dating them.”

Stan feels his face heat up, especially when he sees the smirk Kyle is trying to hide. “That’s so not true.”

It is, of course, completely true, and Stan knows it. Even with Wendy, who he’s dated on-and-off since they were basically kids, he can never bring himself to make the first move. She gets frustrated with him often, since she has to tell him to ask her to school dances or to hold her hand on dates. He’s not sure why his nerves haven’t gone away after their years together. Sometimes, he still gets nauseous when she wants to kiss.

No one knows about this problem, though. So, hearing Kyle poke fun at him about it makes Stan squirmish. “Like you’re any better,” he adds, though the statement is pretty baseless. He’s not sure how Kyle is when he has a crush, as the redhead rarely shows interest in anyone.

Kyle keeps his gaze down, and Stan can see a mix of emotions cross his face. He wants the other to defend himself just so he can point out that Kyle hasn’t had a real girlfriend, or even asked a girl out since they were ten. But, instead, Kyle just shrugs. “Yeah, guess not,” he concedes.

Again, Stan feels an unease between them. He rarely feels unsure of what to say to his best friend. If they’re not speaking, the silence is usually comfortable. This one, however, just hangs in the air, and Stan feels a sense of guilt for it.

Kyle starts to move his clothes back into his dressers, his suitcase empty now. Stan just watches him for a bit, trying to figure out if Kyle feels just as off as he does. He settles on, probably not, you’re just being weird and defensive and making things weird because you’re weird.

“Wanna borrow pajamas?” Kyle asks, bringing Stan out of his thoughts.

“Huh? Oh, uh,” he takes a second to look down at his current outfit, just to gather himself. “No, thanks. I’ll just sleep in my boxers.”

“Are you sure?” Kyle asks. It’s a trait he and his mom share, asking someone if they want something, then insisting that they do if they refuse. It’s part of their know-it-all nature, but Stan finds it kind of endearing. “I have stuff that’ll fit you.”

He knows he’s better off just accepting Kyle’s offer, so he nods. “If you think so.”

“I definitely do,” Kyle says, rummaging through his drawers. “We’re not that different, you know.”

“Maybe if you stopped having stupid growth spurts,” Stan says, knowing that the topic annoys Kyle. They’ve always compared heights, constantly on their tip-toes or marking doorways for each other. There were a few years in elementary school when Stan could boast a few extra inches on Kyle, but that ended when the redhead shot up in middle school. They haven’t been able to share clothes as easily lately, especially since Stan’s been growing into the stockier build his dad has, while Kyle stays stick-thin and lanky.

“If I could, I would,” Kyle says, tossing a pair of sweatpants over to Stan. Unlike Stan, he doesn’t like being the taller of the two, constantly complaining about how his old clothes don’t fit him, and his new ones don’t look right. “Those should be good, though.”

“I forgot your mom keeps your house fucking freezing in the summer,” Stan says as he gets off the bed. He slides off his jeans, pulling the faded pair of sweatpants on. “My mom doesn’t even use the AC most nights, just has us sleep with the windows open.”

Kyle is facing away from him, pulling out his own pair of pajamas from the dresser. “She complains about hot flashes or something, I don’t know, I don’t really listen. I’ll be right back.” Before Stan even finishes getting changed, Kyle’s already leaving his room. 

Stan knows he’s heading to the bathroom for his nighttime routine. Kyle always changes in the bathroom, taking his time putting in various hair products or acne creams, whatever products his mom has him trying that month. 

While Kyle’s gone, he slides the other’s empty suitcase off the bed to make room for himself. Just beside where the suitcase was is an envelope missing its top flap, near bursting open with its contents. Stan sits down as he picks it up, noticing that it's stuffed with polaroids. Before Stan can even think that he should ask for permission, he empties the envelope, looking through the photos. They’re pretty average, various snapshots of guys that he assumes to be Kyle’s friends from debate camp. There’s lots of pictures of them laughing, shouting at each other, and Stan can recognize locations like the dorms and quads Kyle told him about. There’s one specific boy that’s in almost every picture. Stan’s not sure why he notices him, besides his blonde hair and glasses, there’s nothing special about his appearance. Stan does notice, though, that this boy is next to Kyle in every single polaroid. 

When he reaches the bottom of the pile, there’s one picture that makes his stomach twist in a funny way. It’s close up, telling Stan that Kyle took it himself rather than having someone else do it. It’s just Kyle, beaming that brilliant smile, looking at the other boy, who’s grinning right back. The boy’s lips are parted in a way that makes it seem like he’s about to speak, or maybe he was mid-sentence when the photo was taken. They seem unaware of the camera, too caught up in their own laughter to look at it even though Kyle’s the one who pressed the shutter button. Stan holds the picture a bit too tightly, only looking up when he hears Kyle enter the room.

“What are you doing?” Kyle asks, standing in the open doorway. Stan watches as his eyes dart down to the photos, widening when he sees the one in Stan’s hand.

“Who is this?” Stan asks. Kyle told him about his friends in stories and letters, but no one seemed important enough to be in almost every picture.

Kyle crosses the room, taking the polaroid from Stan. He handles it gently, looking down at the picture as he sits on the edge of his bed. “He’s- He was my roommate,” he says, lacking the enthusiasm he usually has when talking about his debate camp friends.

“What’s his name?” Stan asks, knitting his brows together. Kyle hadn’t mentioned a roommate in his stories. At least, not that he could remember.

“Does it matter?” Kyle asks, putting the polaroid back into the pile with the rest. The action is a bit dramatic, and it feels like something Kyle would do if he was trying to prove that this boy didn’t matter.

Stan keeps his tone light, tempted to reach out to the other just to close the weird distance between them. “Guess not. It just looks like you guys were really close.”

Kyle turns to him suddenly, and Stan can see how red his cheeks are. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Stan replies quickly, throwing his hands up defensively. “What? You got a new best friend while you were at camp and you don’t wanna tell me about him?”

Kyle doesn’t seem amused by this joke, probably because he can tell that Stan’s not really joking. The redhead swallows thickly and Stan has to look away to hide the embarrassment on his face. He hadn’t even thought about the comment before he made it. 

Everyone knows Stan and Kyle are best friends. They don’t say it out loud often, opting to write it in birthday cards or save the words for special occasions. It’s not something that needs to be affirmed constantly, or even addressed for the most part. Still, Kyle knows that Stan gets insecure about his place in Kyle’s life sometimes. Stan would never admit that, of course, but Kyle knows because he can read him like a book. 

“His name is David,” Kyle says after a moment. He’s not looking at Stan, instead, shuffling the polaroids together into a neat little pile. “He’s not my new best friend, don’t worry.”

Stan lets out a puff of air, trying to show just how little he was worried, but it’s clearly forced. “So why didn’t you mention him?”

In the silence that falls after his question, Stan can hear how shallow Kyle’s breathing becomes. The same uneasy feeling starts in his gut as he watches Kyle adjust himself on the bed, nervously twisting his fingers together.

“David, um,” Kyle begins, looking just about anywhere but Stan. “He was kind of more than a friend.”

“What do you mean?” Stan asks slowly, even though he knows there’s no other way to interpret that. Kyle has a friend who is more than a friend. A more-than-friend who’s a boy.

Kyle looks right at him with those bright green eyes, welling with so much uncertainty. “ Stan .” He says his name like it’s a plea, his voice tight.

The entire room feels still, and the twinge of unease in his stomach turns into full-on nausea. Stan grips the comforter beneath his fingers just for something to hold on to. He opens his mouth, wanting to ask a million questions- Are you saying what I think you’re saying? Are you sure? But, he knows they’re all pointless. Kyle doesn’t need to answer anything for Stan to know exactly what he’s trying to tell him. 

“Really?” Stan asks, his voice barely a whisper.

Kyle just nods, his jaw clenched too tight to speak.

“So, you,” Stan starts, but the words feel odd in his mouth. “You… You like boys? That’s- that’s,” he stammers, choking on the word okay . He wants to tell the other that it’s okay, but he can’t. 

Looking at the boy sitting across from him, it feels like he has no idea who he is. Stan knows about gay people, he’s seen them on the news or in Shelley’s magazines, always talking about how we’re just like you! But, that image doesn’t fit Kyle. He’s not a face on TV, he’s Stan’s best friend, trusted with all of his secrets, hopes, and fears. But now, there’s this massive part of Kyle that’s just been hidden away, that Stan can’t even begin to understand.

“When did you figure this out?” Stan asks.

Kyle lets out a breath, shrugging his shoulders. When he speaks, his voice is uneasy, higher than usual. “I don’t know. Um, I don’t know. Like, I think I’ve always known? But I didn’t really want to know, or, I guess, want it to be true. It’s hard to explain.”

Stan nods, chewing on the inside of his lip as he stares down at the polaroid. The bright expression on David’s face feels smug to him now, like he’s taunting Stan, I know your best friend better than you do.

Still looking down, Stan speaks again. “Why didn’t you talk to me?”

“I wanted to,” Kyle says, quick in his response. “I really wanted to tell you. For a while, actually. I just didn’t know how, I didn’t know if it was real. And I-” His voice breaks, and when Stan looks up, he can see that tears have begun falling down the other’s face. “ Fuck, ” Kyle whispers.

“You’re crying,” Stan says, though it almost sounds like a question. He wants to reach out, his hand twitching to wipe away the other’s tears. But, he finds himself unable to move forward, an invisible wall between them.

Kyle slides the heel of his hand across his cheek, trying to catch the tears before they fall. “I’m sorry, I just-” he pauses, sniffling. “If you don’t want to be around me anymore, or something, just tell me, okay?”

“What are you talking about?” Stan asks. Kyle stares back at him, wide-eyed, and Stan feels like he can actually see the other for the first time tonight. A sudden clarity hits him like a bat to the head. “You’re my best friend, Kyle. You’re always gonna be.”

Kyle exhales, letting the tears pour down his face freely now. “Really?” He asks, and the soft smile that comes across his lips makes Stan want to cry too.

“Yeah, dude. Um, do you,” he looks over Kyle, whose hands are still shaking slightly. “You want a hug?”

Kyle doesn’t even respond, instead falling forward into Stan. The redhead wraps his arms tightly around Stan’s waist, quick to bury his face in his shoulder. He nearly knocks the wind out of Stan, who slowly wraps his arms across his back in return. 

Stan exhales, just holding his friend. He can feel his t-shirt grow wet with tears, and that Kyle is trying to hide his face from him. There’s lots of things he wants to say to console the other, this doesn’t change anything, or I don’t care if you like boys . But, that’s not true, there’s no way that things aren’t going to be different after this. Kyle will still be Kyle, his short-tempered smartass best friend. But, Stan feels like he’s been punched in the gut by dozens of unfamiliar, terrifying feelings tonight that he can’t even begin to sort out. The two of them will be okay, Stan is sure of this. But, he’s feeling less and less sure of himself.

After some time, Kyle pulls away, quick to bring his arms back around himself. “Sorry for the waterworks,” he says, still sniffling though it looks like he’s done crying.

“It’s cool,” Stan says. Awkwardly, he reaches a hand up to Kyle’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. And, because he has no idea what he’s supposed to say now, he says, “I’m, uh, glad you told me.”

“Yeah,” Kyle exhales. He stretches his legs out from beneath him, laying back down on the bed in his usual comfortable position. His face is still blotchy, and Stan wants to reach out and wipe his cheeks dry. Instead, he just hugs his knees up to his chest, looking down at the other.

“Are you gonna tell anyone else?” Stan asks.

Kyle’s face scrunches up for a moment, the same way it does when he looks at a long homework assignment. “Not now. I feel like Cartman doesn’t need to know that the slurs he calls me are true.”

Stan nearly laughs, but falls quiet when he actually thinks about what was just said. How many times has Kyle had to stay silent when his friends were calling their classmates gay? How many times has Stan just listened and laughed at the jokes Cartman made about the two of them?

“Hey,” Kyle reaches out, tugging at the leg of Stan’s pants. There’s a soft smile on his face, but it feels bittersweet when there are still tear marks too. “You can laugh, dude, I was making a joke.”

Stan nods, putting on a smile back. “I know.”

Kyle chews on the inside of his cheek for a second, then turns his face away, staring at the ceiling while he talks. “I don’t really want people to know yet. At least, not the hicks that live around here.”

“What about your mom and dad?”

The question earns a scoff from Kyle. “My mom? Hearing that I’m never going to breed and make her dozens of little Jewish grandchildren? I think she’d faint.”

“Yeah, probably,” Stan says, picking at the lint on the comforter. “But, you’re really not gonna tell them? What about Ike?”

“I’ve thought about it,” Kyle replies, a frown coming across his face. “But, he’s only ten. He’s smart, but he doesn’t really get this kind of stuff yet. Did you even know what a gay person was when you were ten?”

Stan leans back against the headboard as he thinks. He’s pretty sure that, at ten, he didn’t really know what being gay was. In hindsight, his elementary school teachers or boy scout leaders that his dad would call “funny” were probably the first gay people he knew. “I guess not.”

“I think that if I told anyone, I would have maybe a week until the rest of the town found out. They’d probably bully Ike just for being related to me.” Kyle sits up on his elbows, looking over to Stan. “You won’t say anything, right?”

“Of course not,” Stan replies quickly. “I swear, dude. I’d never do that to you.”

A small, relieved smile comes across Kyle’s face as he sits up. “I know. I just, I dunno, wanted to check.”

Stan looks out the window to the mostly dark street, reminding himself that life exists outside of him and Kyle in this room. As far as he knows, there aren’t any out kids in their grade. There’s a few guys that his peers have decided are different, who get pushed around and shoved in lockers despite claiming to be straight. Thinking about Kyle getting treated like that makes an anger that he rarely feels blossom in his chest, and he has to clench his fists. But, when he glances back at Kyle, shuffling his polaroids back into their envelope, he feels a small sense of pride. He’s the only one in town who knows this secret, and Kyle trusts him to protect it.

He’s still not really happy about this David kid, and the fact that Kyle is still looking at his photo as he puts the others away. But, he’ll push that feeling pretty deep down.

“David’s out, at home,” Kyle says, just before tucking the polaroid into the envelope. “He’s from New York City. He says his dad wasn’t really happy about it, and he lost some friends, but he doesn’t regret it.”

“Yeah?” Stan replies, watching as Kyle places the envelope carefully on his nightstand. “Did any of the guys at camp know about you?”

“Not, like, explicitly,” Kyle responds. “They knew about David and they knew me and him spent a lot of time together. No one ever asked, but I think they connected the dots.”

Stan frowns. When their friends see him and Kyle off alone together, they’re quick to poke fun at how gay the two of them act. He can’t imagine how much worse it would be if Kyle was actually out. Thinking back, he understands why Kyle spoke so highly of camp and the new friends he had made.

“So, the two of you guys were together?” Stan asks, trying to keep his voice neutral. “You and David?”

When Stan turns away from the window, Kyle is already looking at him. They both look away quickly, and the tingly sensation in his palms return as he waits for an answer. “We were,” Kyle says in a quiet voice. “I had such a crush on him the first week. He was really smart, and funny, and not arrogant like a lot of the other guys. Do you-” Kyle looks back over at Stan, who’s very focused on staring out the window again. “Do you want to hear this?”

The question makes Stan’s face heat up. He thought he wasn’t being obvious with how uncomfortable the subject was making him feel. “I mean, if you wanna talk about it-” Stan starts, shrugging like it’s not a big deal to him. “I don’t know if I really, um, want details and stuff. N-not because it’s a guy, though!”

When he finally looks at Kyle, the redhead is smiling, trying to contain his laughter. Stan wipes his palms on his pants.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, unable to stop the smile that comes across his face now.

“Your face right now, dude. You look constipated.” Stan opens his mouth to protest, which causes Kyle to break and start laughing. “It’s okay if you don’t want to hear about him. I don’t like hearing about you and Wendy. It’s not a gay thing, it’s just, I dunno, cringey?”

Stan lets out a breath of relief, allowing himself to laugh along. “Fucked up that you never told me you don’t like hearing about Wendy, but, good to know it’s mutual.” He pauses, letting out a loud yawn. “Sorry, I was up at like 6 this morning, I’m beat.”

Kyle rolls his eyes, but Stan can tell that he’s getting pretty tired too. “I can, um,” he begins, glancing down at the space between them on the bed. “Do you want me to grab you extra blankets or something?”

“Why would you do that?” Stan asks, rubbing his eye as he leans back against the headboard.

Kyle takes a second to respond, in which Stan realizes just what he means. “I can sleep on the floor or something, if you don’t want to share. It’s really okay.”

Right . They’ve slept beside each other since they were toddlers, sharing a nap mat in kindergarten. The thought that they wouldn’t do that anymore didn’t even cross Stan’s mind at first, and knowing that Kyle was worried about it makes him feel terrible. “I don’t mind, dude.”

“Are you sure? It’s really fine-” Stan hadn’t noticed, but Kyle’s been keeping a distance between them, sitting at the end of his bed.

“You were gay the last time I stayed over, right?” Stan asks, and, after a pause, he can see the tension leave Kyle’s body.

The redhead smiles, moving over to the same side of the bed as his friend. The two of them don’t need to say anything as they slide under the covers, careful to leave enough room for the other. Stan stays against the wall, coming to lay down on his back just as Kyle flicks the lamp on his nightstand off. In the darkness, there isn’t anything to distract him, just the sound of Kyle’s breathing as he settles into the bed beside him.

They lay there for some time, both staring up at a black ceiling. Even though he was tired before, now that he’s actually laying down, he knows his thoughts are swarming too fast for him to actually get any sleep tonight.

Softly, he hears from beside him, “Stan?”

“Yeah?” He replies.

“Do you think I’m being a wimp if I don’t tell anyone else?”

The answer comes easily to him. “No, not at all.”

“I just- Fuck , it’s scary.”

Stan grips the blanket beneath his hand, because Kyle sounds just like he did when they were little, and all he wants to do is tell his best friend that he’ll be okay. But, Kyle would see right through that, so all he says is, “I know, dude.”

He hears Kyle shuffle beside him, and without looking, he knows the other’s face is turned towards him. “Thanks for coming over tonight.”

“Of course. It’s been a really shitty summer without you.”

“I guess,” Kyle starts. “Thanks for staying . After I told you.”

Stan lets out a breath, trying to exhale some of the weight on his chest. There’s a lot on his mind, and so many things he’s unsure of right now. But, more than anything, he knows he could never lose this , staying beside his best friend. He doesn’t quite know how to verbalize this, for fear of sounding too cheesy or insecure or needy. So, instead, he just looks over at Kyle, giving him a smile that he hopes the other can make out in the dark.

“So,” Stan starts, keeping his voice a whisper. “Do you think you can get your mom to make pancakes for breakfast?”

The question earns a small fit of laughter from Kyle, who starts to complain about how Stan only stays over for the luxury breakfast the next day. Stan turns over to face him when he retorts, and they fall into their usual ritual of whispering lame jokes and stories, which only grow more random and delirious the longer they talk. Eventually, their conversation will dwindle, and they’ll fall asleep facing each other, soft smiles on their faces.

#oh god i hate tagging #south park #fanfiction #style #stan marsh #kyle broflovksi #stan x kyle fanfic #stanky my love #stan marsh x kyle broflovski #uhhh #boys kissing #coming out #angst #fluff #please read this its very important to me

[tini21]

346/365 always with the weird sleeping positions

#fluffy #snapshots and borrowed thoughts #photographers on tumblr #shih tzu

[feleshero]

❝ Hey, we can talk about this, can't we? ❞

TEN Rings? Perish the thought, that much jewelry was a bit too gaudy for her tastes. If she were taking a snapshot with the loot, sure, she could see herself weighed down by precious dragon-alien metals with a mystic aura about them. But for the sole purpose of ticking a box on her 'to-do' list? One ring would surely suffice.

At least that had been her thought process as she quietly crept her way through the ends of some very remote hidey-hole, only to find herself face-to-face with @razorfst before acquiring her prize.

❝ I'm sure Fin Fang Foom won't mind if I borrow just one of his little doodads, right? Powerful guy like him, I doubt he'd even miss it. ❞

THE SIGNAL

#razorfst #ᴅᴏᴇs ᴡʜᴀᴛᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴀ sᴘɪᴅᴇʀ-ᴄᴀɴ; VERSE HOPPIN'. #Heya!! Have this with my thanks! #Felicia's on a spree of 'robbing a rich person' in every universe so that's where her head is at here #she is woefully confused as to just who she's robbing though. (her home universe is a bit detail-askew) #if you'd like something else let me know! I can workshop with you to get it right

[peachraindrops]

*blows some dust off an old Brio WIP from the corners of my WIP folder*

“Beth! Tell me again why we’re in gang friend’s ride?” Annie grins, just needing to hear the last sentence again so she could take a mental snapshot of the image and save it forever.

Beth side-eyes her and groans, “You heard me the first time. I’m not saying it again.”

She scuffs back, “Pleaseeeee. Come on. Once more.”

Her pointer finger goes up and wiggles as if that proves she would really only ask to hear it one more time and Beth sighs.

When she doesn’t answer right away, Annie’s rogue finger goes to the radio and starts clicking all around the buttons until Beth smacks her hand away. The last thing she needed to do was explain to Rio why Annie was in his car or all the buttons were sticky.

She made the mistake of agreeing to pick Annie up from work since her car was booted again and didn’t even think about the repercussions or the questions she’d get slammed with. They were in such a weird groove with each other she forgot the people closest to her knew nothing about it yet.

Today it was just nice to be in a car that didn’t wasn’t overwhelmingly sticky or littered with old Mcdonald's french fries and garbage.

Annie coughs impatiently.

A few seconds go by and Beth smirks, sighing, “Rio had to borrow the minivan.”

Annie pauses, rolling her hands like she’s waiting for the rest of it, “…for?”

Beth laughs and shakes her head back and forth. “He needed the room for Marcus’s carpool rotation, Annie.”

They both laughed, but mostly Annie, while Beth shook her head and tried to hold it all in. The thought of Rio driving around 5 or 6 little kids and arguing about snacks and music did tickle her.

#not really feeling this WIP anymore but could shove this into a different fic if it fits somewhere #it's just a goofy scene i felt the need to write into one #beth x rio #beth boland #rio good girls #annie marks #nbc good girls #gg fanfic

[chloepleasestopdying]

To recap what my current snapshots of Chloe and Max are:

Chloe- middle of the night sitting alone with a half smoked cigarette listening to sad music. Probably thinking about sad things because that’s all her mind can think of when she’s not moving, which is why she is always doing something, anything, when she can. Unfortunately sometimes there is no one to hang out with, no money for beer or weed and all she can do is smoke some borrowed cigs and hope for a busier day tomorrow.

Max- she has one of those bright vests that people give their dogs with the word nervous in big letters which people think is because she’s scared but it’s actually because she can and will bite someone. Hasn’t brushed her hair in two days because she got hyper fixated on her newest project. She lives by the rule of having no room for bad thoughts in her brain but oops she accidentally deleted the ability to tell time so she forgot to do her homework. Can only do a few things reliably: gossip, take kickass pictures, thinking every girl that speaks to her is super pretty and saving Chloe’s life.

#life is strange #chloe price #max caulfield #pricefield #all my thoughts about Chloe are like #deep and meaningful #but I still love my insane but you can’t tell unless you know her hipster #Max isn’t Max unless she’s got dried blood under her nose and she looks like she’s about to snap #Max has all the gossip but can’t remember anything from history class #Max can and will bite someone

[thirdtimecharmed]

Disjointed Nona thoughts under the cut because I just read it and desire to Speak About It

Fuckin.... wow

Pyrrha Dve is insane and I love her so much. 

Everything about Gideon/Kiriona made me unspeakably sad, its like... Gideon but not her at all, yanno? Like, there was no warmth behind any of the jokes she made and it just made her feel so bitter and lifeless and hollow. Great writing but so sad. 

Like I would pay a million dollars for a snapshot of her perspective when Nona kissed her. Also Tamsyn Muir owes me a million dollars for emotional damages for having fucking SLEEPING BEAUTY happen in the middle of all this craziness I s2g. So really the million dollars evens out.  Also everyone who ever gave a hot goddamn about palamedes/dulcinea owes me $20 because like lbr here how much love can you have for some lady you’ve never met vs. the person youve grown up with and depended on I mean come on people

Everything about Nona, but the fact that she has pica somehow gave me the most feelings. Her pretending to be Harrow was so incredibly hilarious and I am the first one in my household to read it so I can’t share with anyone how funny that was. 

Also speaking of palamedes and cam, this book really twists the knife wrt how fucking tragic gideon and harrow’s story is. Like, they are wedged so deep into an impossible middle ground, somewhere between the original Lyctors who did it super wrong and Paul who mostly(?) figured it out but just. The limbo they’re stuck in is ugh. 

The fact that Gideon even though she’s a hollow version of herself sTiLl was like “where’s harrow” @ nona I fucking cannot. 

Whoever called the fact that there would be a skeleton war joke, I salute thee

And speaking of the skeleton war, did anyone else really find Jod scarily relatable? Like he’s detestable obvs but in the exact same way I think any person is capable of being. In his situation I can’t say for sure I’d do anything differently, which is a very compelling thing for a very detestable character. 

Interesting how this book makes it preeeetty clear how immediately every single Lyctor was plotting against Jod. Like, the Sixth one whose name I don’t remember had it early, Anastasia clearly was doing something hella early, Pyrrha was hiding out... so many of them had their foot out the door its almost the literal opposite of the Jesus/disciples narrative. 

I also love how much and how little we really understand about the resurrection beasts. What the hell was one doing channeling Judith? I guessed in Harrow that they represented the nine planets, so I’m guessing that Nona/Alecto can understand them because she’s also a planet?

Speaking of all the “/”es going on there’s a fascinating undercurrent of like what the hell is gender in this whole book. Like... Paul but also Prince Ianthe Naberius and Prince Kiriona and Nona struggling with they/them for Aim and Coronabeth struggling with she/her for Pyrrha. I guess it goes hand in hand with the questions of identity and souls and body that is pretty central to the whole series

A friend asked if I liked the book cause I borrowed her copy and I don’t know if ‘like’ is the right word but like intensely compelling, enjoyable to read, I will be thinking about this for days so????????

#the locked tomb #nona the ninth #spoilers #spoilers and incoherency

[making-dough]

"Professor!" Julia's cheeks are red from running but she bursts into a wide, bright smile upon seeing the flying teacher before her. A hunch had led her here. She had heard tell the woman was 'thrifty' but to Julia, that just meant creative. Resourceful enough to create joy and light from very little. A skilled flier too and who else would think to send a novice skyward? "Did you... did you organise a midnight flight for me to see the monastery? It was wonderful, a little terrifying - I thought that pegasus would knock me from my feet but--"

"Well no matter what I took some pictures I'd like to share. If you did grant me such a boon I'd like you to keep half. It's... made me reflect on my study goals too. So don't be too surprised if you see a little more of me!"

♠ - Calling her 'thrifty' was probably not inaccurate, she supposed. If there was one thing living in poverty had taught her (and let's face it, with few exceptions, Ilia was poverty), it was in how to make every gold count. To that count, the pegasus was the academy's, the extra feed she used for a bribe reward was nicked borrowed from the kitchens and she just asked the local eggheads to figure out when was the next expected meteor shower. The most she'd ended up spending gold on was on that snapshot tome and even that was second-hand. Alright, call her a cheapskate if you must but so long as no one got hurt, she was happy to carry on as she pleased.

Though, she'd never imagined she'd end up bringing quite that much happiness. "Yep.", the mercenary grinned proudly at the silver-haired girl's bright smile. "You got me. Glad you enjoyed it! Astra didn't end up hurting ya, did she? I know the girl can be a little...enthusiastic but she means well. Just a little.. uh.. over-excited, that's all." Well, it wasn't as though she had much else in terms of options for the Plan. Pegasi were notoriously shy and it didn't look as though the academy's flock were any better. And that was even with some extra bonus feed for a bribe reward. To be honest, she was happy she even got one volunteer eager for a chance to stretch their wings. She had.. other plans for Murphy that night. Still, it seemed to all work out so all’s well that ends well, she guessed. Especially since she came back with so many juicy pictures. “Oooh, nice!”, the mercenary gasped, glancing over at Julia’s pictures. “You got a much better view than I did!” There was a slight pause as she stopped to process what she’d just admitted to. Well, novice flyer. Pegasus off its leash. Practically anything could have gone wrong. Seemed like something she needed to keep an eye on. The last thing she needed was for her own first time to repeat itself.  It was still a little embarrassing to admit, though. “Ah, I mean, uhhh”, came the helpful noises out of her mouth while her brain tried to come up with a response. “Oh, yeah! I’ll take some, thanks!”, she declared, snatching up a handful of pictures. “I’ll be seeing ya around, Julia! Don’t do, uhhh, Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”, she tried to conclude, trying to sound somewhat authoritative and probably failing badly. Well, it was the effort that counted, right?

#toawinterwonder #nagargent #secret santa asks #{*ding ding ding* yep! that was farina! thanks for playing. ahaha~!}