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#the shorter version is the post
luffysbasement · 2 years
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hello, i'm finally distancing myself from mcyt :]
it's been really fun!! i loved drawing for everyone, for my interest and esp just interacting with you all. this fandom brought me my friends and different experiences and emotions that are rly unforgettable but i think it's time. thank you for everything, i appreciate you all! ♡♡ pls do stay safe and take care of yourselves!
(my art will remain here ofc but i will most likely be turning this blog into how it was before, multifandom, personal and just a bunch of whatever!)
#the shorter version is the post#ill be here in the tags to talk more :]#honestly im pretty grey on the situation and im just rly waiting for whats gonna happen#thats not why im leaving (mostly) i think its abt time to accept im getting tired of how the experience is of being a drm stan#i loved the man i rly do hes been with me for the entire pandemic him and his videos helped me get through it#but its kind of a bummer that just by being a fan u get exposed to antis and their nonstop scheme of just starting up shit#and that everytime something new comes up you keep hoping its just an accusation but at the same time u feel terrible and anxious anyway#ive alrdy distanced myself from twt and by extension even tumblr bc i thought if i just keep drawing and not looking at my socials those#dramas wont reach me (they still do and it sucks lol but i did get a peace of mind just being free of social media)#at some point i started losing interest in mcyt in general the only thing keeping me was drm not even mccs nor other ccs rly just drm#but then recent thing happened and yeah :/ idk what to think im lost and honestly just tired of stuff like this#thats the final straw i think i dont rly want my mental health tearing up over whether to worry abt things i alrdy stress over abt (w the#college and family stuff) and freaking minecraft youtubers fandom#i think whatever the outcome is im just over it if drm comes out innocent i dont think i can let go of him yet#so ill prob still be checking up on hm and watching him by myself#if not then thats that.#stilli cant deny the fact that it rly has been an amazing two almost three years#i hope you all stay safe and takecare of yourselves ♡#if anyone still wants to see my art im just hanging out in my onepiece sideblog lol @/luffysbasement
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brother-emperors · 10 months
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DO NOT BE AFRAID
this is combining Ovid's Heroides and the Excidium Troie because I can't stop thinking of Hermes telling him not to be afraid. what the fuck!! Ares is wearing the crown that Paris gave him.
I have. thoughts. about Paris. he's almost got this Troilos parallel in my mind, that the event that defines him in detail exists in a lost narrative that we don't have (the Cypria), but everyone else knew. the event that defines Troilos is his death (murdered, butchered by Achilles, the violence of which haunts everything after. Achilles, child killer, you can't escape that!), and the event that defines Paris is the Judgement. what's a lost text but a kind of grave!!
idk I don't think that Paris before the Judgement would recognize himself after bc when you become god touched, it rearranges your guts. you become transformed in the worst way possible! how could you recognize yourself! but I also think that all the Parises after the Judgement would recognize each other because that event is so locked into the trauma of war and the scar it leaves on the land, it's like a scar on the narrative too. it exists like this forever, over and over again, so you exist like that forever too. Troy collects grief and despairs.
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Troy as trauma: Reflections on intergenerational transmission and the locus of trauma, Andromache Karanika
and Paris is like. a miserable little god/corpse-puppet or something, like a match for the gods to throw onto gasoline.
The Excidium Troie + Ovid's Heroides:
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Excidium Troie, trans. Muhammad Syarif Fadhlurrahman
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Ovid, Heroides 16 (trans. Harold Isbell)
a collection of things regarding Paris that made me go 😬 but under a cut bc this is getting. very long.
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The Divine Twins in Early Greek Poetry, Corolla Torontonensis
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Iliad 24 and the Judgement of Paris, C.J. Mackie
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Elegy and Epic and the Recognition of Paris: Ovid "Heroides" 16, Elizabeth Forbis Mazurek
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Ennian Influence in "Heroides" 16 and 17, Howard Jacobson
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Paris/Alexandros in the "Iliad", I. J. F. de Jong
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royalarchivist · 3 months
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Ironmouse: Part of the reason why I love this server so much is because everybody's so nice. Everyone! Like, every single person is super nice! And it's like- it's like, genuine nice, it's not like fake niceness. [...] I've literally talked to almost everybody at least once like outside of the QSMP. We've talked on Discord, people regularly check in on me, we get in group chats and we play games like outside of the server... You don't really find that sort of connection all the time with people.
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Ironmouse recently talked about her experience on QSMP, and how kind all the members are. I'm posting the entire conversation instead of cutting it up like I usually would because I really enjoyed hearing her thoughts on the server.
[ Subtitle Transcript ]
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Ironmouse: Honestly, I'm sure he wouldn't mind if I did. He's so nice, he's so- he's always been super nice to me. He's been so nice, I– part of the reason why I- I love this server so much is because everybody's so nice. Everyone! Like, every single person is super nice! And it's like- it's like, genuine nice, it's not like fake niceness. You know how sometimes like– you always hear like, "Oh yeah, you know–" when–
Ironmouse: Whenever you like, join like a new thing, right? Whenever you like join like a new thing, you always worry, 'cuz you always think: "Oh, are the people gonna like me? Are they gonna be nice to me? What if- What if- you know, what if this, what if that?" But everybody like genuinely was nice when I first came by, and everybody has been so nice to me– not just in the game, but outside of the game, and–
Ironmouse: Something special about the QSMP is like... People wanna be your friend like outside of the game? Like, I've literally talked to ev– almost– almost everybody at least once like outside of the QSMP, like... We've talked on Discord, people like regularly check in on me, and like we get in group chats and like we- we play games like outside of the server, and it's just like... You don't really find that sort of connection all the time with people? You know what I mean? It's very– it's very not common when you go on like, a content creator-like server or stuff like that, you know? You'll get like one or two people that you get close to and stuff, but like... Everybody is SO nice, and everybody's been so nice to me, and I can't tell you how many people like, wished me– not just like wished me happy birthday, or like wished- said, "Oh, you know, hap- Merry Christmas!" dadadada, it's like genuinely like... Asked how I'm doing, and like talk to me, and like... Just like– I dunno, it's just like so- so- it's so wonderful. Ironmouse: Like, I get that with VShojo a lot, like– we're all like besties, and we all like talk all the time, but I feel like it's different, 'cuz like VShojo– we're VShojo, we're like– we're our own group, but this is like... You know... You don't expect this sorta thing when you get invited to like be on some- be a part of something, you know? And it's- and it's been so– it's been so wonderful and everybody's been so GENUINELY nice to me, and I- I appreciate everybody on the server so much, and they're just some of the nicest people that I've ever met ever, and it's just–
Ironmouse: It just warms my heart, and I'm just really– really like, thankful to be a part of something so great, and something so positive! Because like, everybody's so supportive! Like– the time when like, I didn't like– I- I- I had a moment where it's like I– do you guys remember in December when I- I was not around a lot? And like, I had to take breaks and all this stuff and it turns out it was like the concert stuff? They all like would message me regularly, like, we would all keep up with each other, and we would all talk. And I remember telling them about like, how much stress I was under, and like all the- all the pressures of the concert and stuff, and– and they were cheering, and- and- and they were just so... so kind to me, it was just so– so sweet, and- and you know, I was in a group chat with a- with a few people, and they were all just so excited and- and- just super nice, and- and very- very sweet, and it's just– and it's just very– I'm sorry if I'm rambling! It's just...
Ironmouse: I dunno! I- I- I just enjoy being here, and I enjoy hanging out with everybody, and... it's just nice to meet really good people. You don't really find that. You don't find that sort of thing all the time. Don't get me wrong– it's not like I haven't met a lot of good people, like– I just feel like this whole like, my whole like– Ever, like– My streaming journey, I've just been nothing but surprised at the goodness of people? Don't get me wrong– I've met assholes and sht like that, and I've met- I've encountered some people that are NOT so nice. I'll never like, talk about it or whatever because that's their thing, and I'm just gonna do my thing and I don't wanna like, you know, spread any type of stupid drama or whatever the fck, but like... I'm just always surprised about how– how incredibly nice people are, and how genuine a lot of people are, and it's... It- it's just nice, especially since like– You're used to coming from like, a certain background and a certain like, environment where it's like, you've met a lot of like fcked up mean people in your life, and you've just been around a lot of like fckery, you know? So when- when you're around stuff that's NOT fcked, it's just like, "Woah, this is crazy! Is this- is this how life is supposed to be?!" And it's just- it's just really... it's really- it's really nice. It's very nice.
Ironmouse: Yeah, it's very refreshing, that's why I- I enjoy hanging out on here, everybody's just so nice to me. And it's not just like being nice just to be on-stream, it's nice off-stream, on-stream, friendship on-stream, off-stream, it's- it's just- it's just so- it's- it's- it's wonderful. It's wonderful. And I just have to say like... man, I'm just really thankful that like... it's crazy that like I got invited to be on here and I'm just really thankful that, you know... Quackity like, reached out to me and he's- he's just been nothing but nice, everybody- everybody's just so kind. Everybody's so nice. This is something truly special.
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Black men with hair like Hobies I love you. Black girls with freeform locs I adore you. Black people with imperfect afros and hair that sticks up or branches out you're the best and perfect and you look good as hell
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Black guys with big locked up thick hair you mean the world to me you are not dirty or ugly you are rad and I love you
Black women with unmanicured locks I promise you are not 'uglier that way'
Black Hobie cosplayers who wear their natural hair you are LITERAL superheros and I know Hobie hates being called that BUT Y'ALL ARE HEROS AND I LOVE YOU
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I hear so much unaddressed uncomfortability when it comes to black people with COMPLETELY natural hair. And a lot of time, that uncomfortability comes from black people
Make of whom have hair that would 9/10 loc up like Hobies is given the chance to
And I feel sometimes some of us forget that there are true Hobie brown cosplayers in the cut with hair like his. There are people starting their loc journey, because of Hobie. And this language is something they hear
Black people with freeform hair ROCK Hobies hair looks EVEN BETTER in real life and honestly our hair is magic goodnight
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fastcardotmp3 · 7 months
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future!steddie; long haul trucker Eddie; firefighter Steve ~1k words
It makes sense to Eddie, an obvious out when his world's gone to shit and he has to get away, that his escape route from Indiana is the same job his uncle left to settle down there and raise a kid with nowhere else to go.
Driving long haul means there's no one looking that close at a face that made it to the national news during his week on the run. It means living on the move, never stopping long enough to get stuck anywhere.
It means freedom.
It means loneliness.
He calls Wayne twice a week, coins in pay phones at rest stops while he's waiting for his hair to dry post-public shower, and that's enough for him.
Wayne has always been enough for him, and it would be hurtful to suggest otherwise; it would be disrespectful to the life Wayne helped him build, keeps helping him build with all that faith that had him never doubting an innocence questioned by everyone else in that God-forsaken town.
Twice a week. It's the only phone number he knows by heart.
Twice a week for weeks and then months and then years, driving cross-country and back again, it's freedom. He keeps telling himself it's freedom, that it's good, that he doesn't need anything more than that.
But driving long haul means there's a lot of time for thinking.
It means a lot of time for collecting thoughts up together and creating new meaning entirely.
It means that by the time he's twenty-one and twenty-five and thirty that he has tape after tape after tape where he's collected those thoughts aloud in the rumbling loud silence of an overnight drive.
Thoughts like who would I be if I'd stuck around? and thoughts like will they understand that this time running saved my life? and thoughts like I miss them, am I allowed to miss them, am I allowed to love them without ever really knowing them?
It means that when he stops for all but the first time in ten years, coming home to Wayne to find that Forest Hills is home to a couple more familiar faces than he expected, there's space for his words. His endless, looping thoughts.
Steve's got his own trailer these days, brings in Wayne's mail for him on the mornings he comes home from the night shift at the fire station and stays for coffee.
Steve's there across the way when Eddie drives up in a new-used flatbed truck he'd bought with his final paycheck on the day he hung up his hat and decided he'd been gone long enough.
Steve's there in stories Wayne only begins telling now that Eddie is home, endless retellings of a brand-new man who became a friend during a time when the name Munson was still a dangerous thing to carry.
Steve's there when Eddie starts transcribing all his dictated notes into something resembling narrative and character and prose and Eddie doesn't know the guy who jumped headfirst into another dimension, hasn't spoken to him since that week that forced Eddie to flee in the first place, but maybe he doesn't need to have those years under his belt.
Maybe it doesn't matter if Eddie knows a nineteen-year-old Steve Harrington, because he knows the twenty-nine-year-old one starting a matter of hours after he comes crawling back home, knows this grown and steady one who looked after Wayne when Eddie had to leave.
This Steve isn't stuck despite still living in the town that tried to kill him. He doesn't seem lost or without purpose.
He lives a simple life, working at the Hawkins FD and feeding stray dogs with the bowls he leaves out beside his porch. Robin comes and goes, seemingly dating her way through the Midwest's entire sapphic population and sleeping on Steve's couch in between live-in girlfriends.
There are old friends on the phone at near constant intervals in Steve's home, and there's that phone being pressed to Eddie's ear without giving him the chance to be terrified about what Erica or Dustin or Max might say to the guy who hasn't allowed anyone but Wayne access to him for a decade, what he might say back after so many years without proper human socialization.
Eddie has been moving for so long, stayed moving through the bulk of his acceptance of everything that happened to him, but there's a different sort of quiet here than what he found on the road, stillness, amongst the casual chaos.
There's similarities to life on his rig, sure, a certain routine to the comings and goings, only Eddie isn't hiding anymore and he's not thumbing through the same staticky stations anymore and he's not lonely anymore.
He doesn't know how to sit still yet, not really, but he stays up all night handwriting poetry on paper he once spoke onto tape on the porch of his uncle's trailer and sometimes when Steve gets home after dark, he'll sit with him.
He'll eat his dinner still in uniform and listen to the scratch of Eddie's pen and Eddie doesn't know him, Steve Harrington, but he's getting to know his neighbor Steve.
Ten years down the line and he's becoming solid right there in front of Eddie's eyes, becoming real, becoming something that can't possibly fit onto the tapes filled with nonsense and insights alike.
"You're never what I think you're going to be," Eddie admits to him one morning over coffee before Wayne or Robin have risen, before the phone has begun to ring, before the world wakes up and brings Eddie's life along with it, ready or not.
Steve smiles at him, amused and curious and cocky in the way he responds, "you're exactly who Wayne said you are."
It's an admission all its own, that Steve has thought about Eddie, spoken about him, in the time they've spent apart, even if it was only because he'd dared to keep Wayne Munson's company.
It's still an admission though, that in his absence, in his loneliness out on the road, Eddie wasn't forgotten by the watercolor skies over Hawkins, Indiana.
"Yeah?" Eddie breathes in those very skies, "and what did Wayne say I'd be?"
Ten years down the line and suddenly it makes sense to Eddie.
It makes sense in the morning dew on the lawn; it makes sense in the too-strong Harrington-brewed coffee; it makes sense in the wheels of his truck on a road that does end, eventually, and it makes sense in the collected thoughts and feelings, fears and dreams that he had to go away to decipher.
The freedom was in leaving, sure, but this? The coming home to Wayne and this porch and the man who lives across the way?
"Stick around, Munson," Steve Harrington dares on a morning like any other, "and maybe I'll just tell you."
Well. As it turns out, this might be the thing that saves him.
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pseudophan · 5 months
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dnp minecraft server: 195.140.213.39:25587
this is a creative server with the goal of building a little dan and phil world which we will then try to bully them into checking out. anyone can join and you can build whatever you want, keeping in mind that there is a 0.5% chance they could see it so don't make anything you wouldn't want them to witness. you don't have to be a master builder or anything don't let a lack of skill hold you back
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petrichoraline · 25 days
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theprincessandthepie · 2 months
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youtube
ned stark's daughter will speak for them.
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kafka-ohdear · 1 month
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actually masters of the air is basically call me by your name (bucky & buck version) but it's ww2 au. yk like "call me by my name and i'll call you by a shorter version of mine".
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like, I know there's a lot absolutely fucked in Spahr and Phineas's relationship, and Spahr failed and hurt Phineas in an lot of incredible ways, and Spahr perpetuated a significant portion of a horrific and toxic cycle, and all the rest— we know the whole thing, it's been widely discussed, and Spahr himself laid out for us what he did wrong for Phineas. he does so most articulately, explicitly, and precisely in the latest episode, but he's been trying to do so since the beginning of season two.
so, like, because it's just so clearly laid out and directly stated by Spahr in this latest episode, I'm not as interested in unpacking the terrible things about Spahr and Phineas's relationship. He's already been so articulate and precise in identifying what he did wrong, so I find that I don't have much to add to it. he's already said it, and surprisingly well!
really, because we've seen how utterly HORRIFIC Spahr's relationship with Costigan is in ways that are not present in his relationship with Phineas, I'm really more interested in just thinking about those differences and and about Spahr not doing precisely what Costigan did. like, I think it's really interesting to suddenly understand that Spahr already put in a lot of work and already came a long distance from that fucking hell pit of a relationship to drag himself to a place where he did not repeat certain things with Phineas. I think it's really interesting to consider Spahr's clear willingness and ability TO do better for Phineas, his grief at realizing now that he did not do as well as he hoped because he continued to perpetuate some immensely damaging things, and what that means going forward.
like, I think about this moment from Security
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that's what's interesting to me. that we, suddenly, understand why Spahr understood this.
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eldritch-thrumming · 1 year
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Nancy Wheeler has always considered herself to be a practical kind of person. She keeps to her schedule, she gets her work done, she makes good decisions for her future. That’s why she can’t believe she’s ended up here, stuck at a minimum wage job at the new Starcourt Mall.
If she’s really honest with herself, Nancy can admit that it was a little bit of wishful thinking and a lot of overconfidence that led her here. She’d applied for a really competitive internship out in Indianapolis for the summer and she’d been so sure she was going to get it. Her application was impeccable and she’d thought the interview had gone so well that she’d quit her after school job at the Hawkins Post that same day. All she’d been allowed to do there was order the office lunches and make coffee on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays anyway, so it wasn’t like it was some kind of great loss to her. She’d practically added a line to the resume that was sitting in her desk drawer just waiting to be turned in to college admissions offices in the fall. 
And then the call hadn’t come. She’d waited two weeks and then finally given in and called the Indianapolis Star to ask about the status of her application. She’d held the phone in a white knuckle grip as the man on the other end had told her that, while she’d certainly been impressive in her interview, they’d decided to go in a different direction. They’d be sure to keep her in mind for any future positions, he’d assured her. She’d said “thank you” and slammed the phone back into its cradle; she knew exactly what men like that meant when they used the words “different direction.”
So now, Nancy Wheeler was trudging out to the new mall all the way across town everyday, wearing a ridiculous sailor costume and slinging ice cream alongside Eddie Munson, Hawkins High’s resident drug dealer and repeat senior. If anyone asked her--not that they ever would--she’d tell them this was far stranger than watching a demogorgon rip its way through the walls of the Byers house. Stranger by a long shot.
~*~
Eddie Munson’s not sure how he got here. He’d had a good thing going with Reefer Rick. Decent weed, a place to crash when he didn’t feel like sleeping at the trailer, and a pretty great gig that paid the bills.
And then Rick had to go and get himself arrested. Without Rick, Eddie’s supply completely dried up and he had no other real connections in this shitty little town. So what was a guy to do? He couldn’t lay around the trailer all day. He had tapes to buy and gigs to get to. It wasn’t like he could go an entire summer without a cash flow. He’d only really had one option: the new shining temple to the great evils of Capitalism.
That’s how he found himself pulling on the most demeaning sailor uniform in existence every morning and taking his place next to Nancy Wheeler, the princess of Hawkins, behind the counter at Scoops Ahoy, preparing for a summer full of obnoxious tweens and their even more obnoxious mothers. It was going to be a long three months.
~*~
“Where’s Nancy?”
Eddie sighs, but doesn't take his eyes off the Rolling Stone he’s flipping through at the counter. Thank god for whoever’d left it at their table earlier this afternoon.
“Would it hurt you to be polite? What happened to ‘hello’? ‘How are you?’ ‘Could you please tell me where my sister is?’” Eddie says, finally looking up from his magazine to see little Wheeler scowling at him. Mike reaches over to slam his palm against the bell on the counter, something he knows drives Eddie absolutely insane.
“Hi, hello, how are you? Would you be so kind as to tell me where my darling sister is?” Mike responds, tone dripping with sarcasm.
Eddie sighs again, then calls out, “Wheeler, your demon spawn are here.”
Nancy comes shoving through the door to the backroom with clean ice cream scoops in one hand and a box of little pink sample spoons in the other. Her scowl matches Mike’s.
“I’m not letting you use our mall access for another free movie. Grow up, Mike,” she says, before Mike or his friends can even say anything.
“Come on, Nance, please?” Mike whines. “Will wants to see Day of the Dead and you know we can't get tickets for it.”
Eddie’s eyes shift from Mike to Will, who’s making the biggest, sweetest angel eyes over at Nancy. Eddie can’t help but snort; these kids are good.
“Ugh, fine! But this is the last time.” Nancy shoves the ice cream scoops into their slots by the coolers and then slides the box of spoons toward Eddie, who ignores them. Eddie watches as Nancy leads the kids into the back room. He’s flipped through a couple of more pages of his magazine before she’s back.
“You just got played, Wheeler,” he tells her as she opens the spoons Eddie had left untouched.
“Will’s... been through a lot. He deserves to see a damn movie.” Nancy doesn’t seem like she wants to elaborate on what she means by that, so Eddie lets it drop.
“How’d you end up here at Scoops anyway? Doesn’t seem like something Nancy Wheeler of all people would be that in to.”
Nancy sighs. “Thought I was gonna get this perfect internship in Indianapolis, but... I didn’t, obviously. My options were limited by the time school ended.” She works on replacing the spoons for a moment, before she says, “What about you? Red, white, and blue don’t really seem like your colors, no offense.”
“None at all taken, Wheeler,” Eddie smirks. “Let’s just say, I’m not that interested in seeing what the inside of a jail cell looks like right now.”
Nancy hums in response but doesn’t ask him to elaborate. Eddie knows his reputation often precedes him. He’s kind of into that, anyway. 
Nancy rounds the counter with a rag to start cleaning sticky puddles of melted ice cream off the tables and Eddie returns to his magazine. They work in silence for the remainder of their shift.
~*~
Two days later, Eddie’s back behind the counter with that same Rolling Stone he keeps stashed under the cash register. He’s read the damn thing front and back so many times, he’s practically got it memorized.
“Hey, is Nance here?”
Eddie doesn’t have to look up to know who’s asking, but he does anyway. His eyes snap up to meet Steve Harrington’s gaze and he can feel his own heart racing a mile a minute. Of course the first time Eddie sees Steve Harrington after graduation, he’s wearing these stupid fucking sailor shorts. He feels his cheeks burning red.
“Uh, she’s on break. You need something?” Nancy usually takes her break in the back room, but today she’d apparently forgotten to bring her lunch, so she's gone out to the food court.
“Oh, uh. Yeah, just two scoops of strawberry, please? In a cone,” Steve glances to his left and Eddie becomes aware of the girl standing at his side for the first time. He vaguely recognizes her from school, thinks maybe she plays the trombone or the trumpet or something dorky like that. “You want anything?” Steve nudges the girl with her elbow.
“Can I get the Banana Boat with chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry, please? And extra whipped cream,” the girl says.
“That’s for four people,” Eddie tells her, raising his eyebrows.
The girl just smiles and then Steve says, “You've never seen her eat, man, it’s like a snake unhinging its jaw to swallow a baby whole, seriously.” He pulls out his wallet as he speaks. 
Eddie laughs nervously. “I’ll take your word for it. That all?”
Steve smiles, seemingly pleased that Eddie laughed at his joke. “That’s it, man, thanks.”
Eddie tells him the total, takes his money, and then works on the Banana Boat for Robin. He slides it across the counter to her and watches as her eyes light up at the mountain of whipped cream he’d piled on top. Eddie grabs a cone and scoops out some strawberry. And so what if he makes the scoops just a little bigger than he normally would?
Eddie hands the cone to Steve over the counter, their fingertips brushing.
“Thanks,” Steve says, and his pink tongue darts out to catch a piece of ice cream that’s about to fall from the cone. Eddie’s brain short circuits watching him. “Can you tell Nancy we stopped by?”
“Yeah, no problem.” Eddie hopes his voice doesn’t sound as strangled and strained as he thinks it does.
Steve takes another lick from his cone. Eddie’s eyes track the movement hungrily. “Wow, this is great. We’ll definitely be back. See you around?” Steve smiles at him again and Eddie feels like he can’t breathe. He couldn’t speak even if he wanted to, so he just nods and waves, which makes Steve’s smile grow bigger before he’s turning and guiding the girl out of the store and into the busy mall. Eddie watches them go, eyes fixed out the door long after they’ve disappeared from view.
~*~
Nancy sits at the food court and contemplates her life. She’s seventeen years old, working at an ice cream shop, and sneaking her kid brother into R rated movies. How did it all come to this? 
She knew her job at the Hawkins Post had been a dead end. She was supposed to be a journalism intern, but they’d treated her like their own personal assistant and didn’t even allow her to sit in on pitch meetings or read any drafts before they were sent to print. She’d encouraged Jonathan to take on the photography internship and he’d had more access to the actual news writing than she ever had.
Nancy didn’t consider herself a particularly bitter person, but that had left a terrible taste in her mouth. She knew it wasn’t Jonathan’s fault, that it was a flaw in the system not in how Jonathan saw her, but she couldn’t stomach it when he defended the way she was treated. He was always telling her they were interns and they were just lucky to be there. He didn’t get it.
That’s why she hadn’t felt too bad about breaking things off when she’d quit the Post, so sure that she was destined for bigger and better things out in Indianapolis. Nancy loved Jonathan, she really, really did, and they’d been through so much together. But Jonathan’s ambitions had never really matched her own and she couldn’t ask him to wait around for her all summer, not when she wasn't sure she even wanted to come back. Besides, she was seventeen. No one met the love of their life at seventeen.
“Hey, Nance!” Nancy hears someone call to her from across the food court. Her neck snaps up from where she’s been staring at the congealed yellow substance masquerading as cheese on her fries to see Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley walking toward her. Steve’s got a dripping pink cone in his hand and Robin’s got a half eaten Banana Boat. Nancy sighs. She doesn’t like it when people she knows see her in this stupid fucking outfit.
“Hey, Steve,” she says, trying her bast to smile. “How’s it going?”
“Ah, you know, doing this stupid fucking job my dad got me for the summer,” Steve tells her. Nancy had heard something about Steve getting hired at the Post not long after she’d quit. She hadn’t really been able to believe it, but Mr. Harrington pulling some strings for his son made a lot of sense. “This is Robin, she’s another intern there. I think you guys are the same year?”
“Yeah, I know Robin,” Nancy smiles at the girl next to Steve, who seems too preoccupied with the half melted concoction in her hands to really pay attention to Nancy and Steve’s conversation.
“We were just stopping in to Scoops to see you,” Steve tells her. “Thought you were still at the Post, but then Jonathan said you’d quit? Dustin mentioned you were here now.” 
“Yeah, you know, thought I’d get some real-world experience. Make some money. Develop some people skills.” Nancy doesn’t want to admit that she’d made such a huge mistake, doesn't want anyone to know how sure she’d been, only to be shot down in a single phone call. It’s bad enough that Jonathan and Eddie know just how foolish she’d been and she doesn’t even really care what Eddie thinks of her, which is the whole reason she’d even told him in the first place. 
“Right.” Steve gets that little frown line in between his brows that Nancy had once thought was the cutest thing ever, back in another life. “Well, we have to get back so...”
“Yeah, no, me too. Break’s almost over. Can’t leave Munson alone with all that ice cream for too long.” It’s a lame joke. Nancy can relate.
She gathers her half-eaten fast food and heads for the trash can. She tries her hardest not to look back at Steve and Robin as she walks back toward Scoops.
Inspired by this post.
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mrbiglong3000 · 7 months
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some thoughts about the fionna and cake finale
mostly about some character design choices that i really liked
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(spoilers below the cut obv)
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so it’s pretty heavily implied that astrid (the little girl who keeps pestering simon) is the author of the casper and nova game. we see in the epilogue montage that simon has stopped pushing her away and has started spending time with her, and given the story of casper and nova, it seems like he either gave her some incredibly specific advice OR he told her about his relationship with betty outright. given his willingness to gush about her to fionna, i think the latter is more likely
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nova has eyes that heavily resemble golbetty’s, but the upper pair are closed, which implies that rather than golbetty, this character is supposed to represent betty herself. this is reinforced by the story route that shermy!simon follows when playing casper and nova; just like in simon and betty’s relationship, casper dominates the adventure and outright ignores nova’s interests in favor of his own
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given that casper is meant to represent simon, i loooove his design. casper is wearing a blindfold. he’s literally blind to both nova’s obsession with him and the way he’s been steamrolling her for the duration of the game, a direct parallel to simon and betty’s dynamic. and just like casper, simon could have taken off his “blindfold�� and acknowledged his mistakes at any time, but the thought never occurred to him until it was too late. casper’s only options at the end of this route were to save nova at the cost of his memories- a clear reference to simon wearing the crown again and becoming the ice king- or retrieve the crown and sacrifice nova one last time for his own benefit
in summary:
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adam muto why
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neyxmessi · 1 year
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oh i love whoever made this
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lab-trash · 8 months
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Chase: That suit's really work for you.. Kaz: Yeah? Chase: It's working for me, too. Kaz: You’re flirting with me! Chase: Something like that. Kaz: Finally! Do it some more.
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cicada-sized · 1 year
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Mouthplay, but not like nice…. I want bruises from hours on end of chewing… not enough to bleed or cause perminant damage, but bite marks imprinted deep… I want my skin raw from constant licking and pushing against the roof of their mouth as they go about their work, not even thinking twice about the little treat in their mouth.
Maybe open their mouth every so often to allow me to see the outside world, maybe their looking into a mirror, forcing me to see myself struggle against their tongue for their own amusement.
Spit me out and let me freeze out in the cool air, then pop me right back inside so I overheat once again. I’m your personal stress reliever, do what you must
When alls said and done—𝙎𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬.
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fishyfishyfishtimes · 7 months
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Whoops! Got too immersed in writing and... I'm tired. There will most likely not be a fish fact today but I shall get back to you tomorrow!
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