#What would they have lost if they just used the standard font

[builtbybrokenbells]

Picasso

after months of silent pining over the boy across the hall, y/n finds herself face to face with the one person she can’t seem to get off her mind. a friendly dinner and a night spent in the art studio leads to more truth being revealed than either bargained for. a profession of attraction leads to an opportunity for an unconventional hookup, where Sam gets to make her first time unforgettable.

COLLEGE DORM AU

Read aftermath here

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 15.5k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, fingering (f!receiving), oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it, folks), virgin/virginity talk, losing virginity (sam the v card thief 🫣), praise kink, pet names, sexual anxiety/performance anxiety, soft gentle sex (fuck me up fr), fluff, swearing, anxiety, embarrassing crushes, sorry if I miss any!

😮‍💨 sorry this took so long folks. it’s a lengthy one, so prepare yourself. i got a bit carried away. soft Sam fucks me up real bad. hope you enjoy this as much as i loved writing it!! as always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes!!

~

You weren’t sure who he was. You had no idea where he was from, what he was studying, or if he even knew you existed. Still, that didn’t seem to stop the awkward staring, or the blushing cheeks, or even the speeding heart rate every time he came into your line of vision. You hated yourself for the uncontrollable longing you felt for the boy across the hall, knowing that you would forever be too nervous to approach first. The first few months of your university experience were relatively normal; meeting friends, studying relentlessly, and trying to navigate a brand new life that was so foreign from the last. Then, after the novelty of freshman year wore off, and the hallways were routinely more empty than you’d grown used to, you started to run into him.

The first time you saw him, you almost missed him. You only noticed the back of his head as he disappeared around the corner. But, almost as if fate was playing a sick trick on you, he happened to forget something in his room. When he came back around the corner, giving you the opportunity to see his face, it felt as though you’d received a punch to the stomach. Thankfully, he was in too much of a rush to notice your staring. His long, brown hair looked messy, yet perfectly styled around his slender face. His jawline was sharp, angled gracefully into a perfect chin. The space just above held his lips, a permanent upturn in the corner adorned on them, although barely noticeable in passing. His brown eyes looked inviting, a colour you could spend all day lost in. Once he passed you, you knew it was too late; you’d already fallen for him, and there was no escape.

Perhaps it was because you came from a small town, one where all of the boys looked like the same person, just in a different font. You’d never met a boy who caught your eye quite like he did. He had a charming aura without even speaking, which was impossible to attain, according to your standards. You never really wasted time on dating, more or less finding it pointless. You were well aware there was no person to find in your town that would work out long-term. You were never a date for heartbreak type, understanding that there was no need of having a relationship if you start it with a pre-existing condition that it will inevitably end. You had a few bad experiences with the boys you’d given a chance, and never tried again. It wasn’t worth the hurt, or the trouble, so you kept to yourself. But, whatever it was about the boy across the hall, you were certain if you ever got the chance, you’d want it to last a lifetime.

After the initial shock of seeing him, you seemed to notice him everywhere. Every time you left your room, his door was open, or he was in the hallway talking to his friends. He was always running into you at meal hall, taking post in your favourite spots in the library, and even in some of your classes. You had no idea how you’d gone so long without noticing him, because now, he never ceased to exist in your mind and your life. You’d never managed to get the nerve to speak with him, or even muster a wave when he passed by. The most the two of you shared was a smile each morning; which admittedly, made your day a whole lot better every time. As unfortunate as it was, the two of you had mastered the art of remaining strangers despite the constant desire to be more.

You never verbalized your feelings to anyone, not your friends, or even yourself. You thought it was a bit ridiculous to be infatuated with someone solely based on looks. Yet, you found yourself creating a fabricated version of him, one that you deducted based on what you noticed over the passing weeks. One where he was funny, in a sarcastic or a goofy type of way. One where he was very laid back, but very involved in the lives of the people he loved. And the worst one of all; one where he was fantastic in bed. You thought it was alright to daydream, even if you would never know for certain in this lifetime.

Despite your mostly quiet pining, everybody around you was well aware of how you felt about mystery boy. Your friends seemed to take extra measures to point him out in a public setting, or ‘unintentionally’ cross paths with him. They never admitted it, but you knew what they were doing. Instead of fighting about it, which would only give them the answer they so desperately wanted from you, you laughed alongside them at the ‘strange coincidences’. Although, one thing inherently positive that came from the whole ordeal, was that you’d made acquaintance’s with his best friend, Danny. You’d found out that he was also in a few of your classes, and lived on the floor above you.

He occasionally stopped by your room for a quick chat, or some help with projects. He was friendly, and tall, and quite attractive, too. You never mentioned his friend that lived across the hall, and he didn’t, either. As far as you were concerned, your friendship with Danny would remain just as such, with no hidden implications about the beautiful boy he spent most his time with. Never once would you ever want to make him feel like you’d become friends with him just to get closer to his best friend, because you didn’t. Any hello, or how are you, or any of the conversations you’d shared had always been because you wanted to talk to him. You liked him, and just so happened to find it much easier to strike conversations with him, too.

You walked down the hallway, pushing your way through the swarms of people preparing to leave for spring break. That Friday marked the end of classes for a week, meaning that lots of people were either packing up to return home for a few days, or headed somewhere much warmer to drink themselves into oblivion. You had opted to stay for the week, finding no real desire to visit your family, and having no available funds to travel the world. All of your friends were leaving, presenting a fantastic opportunity for you to catch up on some schoolwork. You keyed into your room, dropping your bag on your bed and kicking your shoes off. You threw on your slippers and took your hair down from its clip.

You walked into your bathroom, seeing a note stuck on the mirror. You pulled it off, reading over the scribbled words. Your suite mate had left for the week, wishing you a good time and telling you she’d see you soon. You smiled, slipping it into your pocket to add to your collection of first-year memorabilia. You had an elaborate final project planned for your introductory art class, and you were collecting as many pieces to add to it as possible, wanting nothing more than to make a showstopper. You fixed your makeup in the mirror and combed through your hair with your fingers, trying to sharpen yourself up after a long day of classes. As you returned to your room, you heard a knock on your door.

When you opened it, you saw a familiar, smiling face. “Well hello.” You said, pulling the door open fully.

“Hey, Picasso.” Danny greeted. “What are you up to?”

“Just got back, actually. I stayed late at the studio. Trying to get my practical piece done for my painting class.”

“I see. Have you started the essay for poetry?” You shook your head, stomach sinking at the thought.

“I was going to start that this weekend. I just picked my topic. I’ve got a couple years worth of Shakespeare sonnets to read.” Danny was an English major, and you were an arts major, but your classes seemed to cross due to your minor in writing.

“That’s such a cop out topic,” He teased, leaning against the door frame. “And it’s spring break, aren’t you supposed to be having fun?”

“Fuck you.” You laughed, waving your hand to invite him inside. “Spring break is only fun for rich kids taking business majors.” You joked.

“Us arts kids know how to have fun, too, you know. We don’t have to get on a plane to do that.” He reminded you, walking inside and taking a seat on your bed.

“Well, what about you, then? Any big plans?”

“Frankenmuth.” He said, trying to make it sound more exciting than it was. You raised an eyebrow at him, expecting something more to the statement, but that was all he said.

“Enthralling.” You laughed, taking a seat in your desk chair. You watched the people pass by in the hallway, no real thoughts in your head. “Just you going?” You asked, eyes falling on the door closed just across from yours.

“Yeah, my friends are gonna stay here. Just thought I’d go back and visit the parents for a few days. Don’t think I’m staying the whole week.”

“Nothing wrong with that, Danny boy.” You said, flipping your laptop open that was sitting on your desk. “When are you leaving?”

“Tonight, probably. I like driving at night.” You were okay with that, completely agreeing with his statement. There was something very peaceful about driving in the dark, especially when the roads are mostly barren. It was almost like time stood still. You knew the drive wasn’t too long for him, so you had faith he would be alright. “That’s why I came to see you.”

“You’re so sweet,” you grinned, opening Netflix and throwing on the most recently watched show. “Gonna miss me?”

“Of course, Picasso.” He said as if it were obvious. “Come with me, if you want.” He offered.

“You wouldn’t want me to tag along, your parents might like me too much.” He laughed at your words.

“And that’s a problem?”

“You wanna listen to them ask about me for the rest of your life?” You teased.

“Doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world.” He shrugged.

“You’re too nice for your own good.” You chuckled. “As much as I would love to spend reading week with you, I very much need access to an art studio and shitty, free coffee refills from the library.”

“I know,” he assured you. “If you change your mind, offers there.”

“Thanks, Danny.” You said, more sincerity in your tone than before.

“The reason I came down here though, was to see if you wanted to grab dinner with us before I leave.”

“Us?” You questioned, cocking your head to the side.

“Yeah, me and Sam. I know you told me your friends already left, so I thought maybe you’d like some company.”

“Oh, so it’s a pity invite?” You smirked. He rolled his eyes.

“No, I want you to come. Thought that was kind of obvious.”

“Just pulling your leg.” You assured him. “Uh, who’s Sam?” You laughed, feeling a little ridiculous for not knowing. He watched you with confusion, waiting to see if you were joking.

“Sam? Kiszka? Like, the guy who lives across the hall?” He asked, completely baffled. “You don’t know Sam?”

“Oh!” Your cheeks turned crimson. “Yeah, I know who he is. That’s your best friend, right?” Danny nodded. “Yeah, I know him. Just didn’t know his name. Never really spoke to the guy.” You laughed, trying to pass off the awkwardness.

“Fuck, y/n, I thought you guys knew each other! I’m sorry I didn’t introduce him to you.”

“No! Don’t be sorry, Danny.” You waved it off. “I never brought it up, either.”

“That’s weird though, cause he definitely knows you. He knew who you were when I mentioned we were working together on that last poetry assignment. I was under the impression that you guys were neighbourly.” He shrugged, confusion still lingering in his features.

“Oh, uh… I guess my names on my whiteboard. Maybe that’s why. He’s definitely seen me around. We smile at each other and stuff in the halls, but that’s about it.” Danny eyed you almost as if he didn’t believe you.

“Well, he seems pretty fond of you for someone he only smiles at in the hallway.” You felt the blush rise to your cheeks again, embarrassed even at the thought of him mentioning your name. “You do know him, don’t you?”

“No, I swear I’m telling you the truth.” You raised your hands in defence. He watched you, scanning your face for a hint of a lie. After a second, his expression lit up.

“You have a crush on him!” He bellowed, feeling accomplished for finally solving the mystery. Your head whipped to the open door, making sure nobody was in the hallway.

“Shut up!” You hissed, making a move to shut the door. “I do not!” You said once you protected the privacy.

“That’s a lie, Picasso.” He let out a disapproving tsk.

“I don’t even know the guy.” You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, he’s attractive, but I can’t exactly like someone I don’t know.”

“Sure you can, and you do.” He grinned. “And you’ll like him even more after dinner tonight.” He decided.

“So now I don’t have a choice if I go or not?”

“No, not at all. I’ll leave you to get ready. He should be back around 6.” Danny stood, not willing to hear any protests.

“Danny, if you say anything to him, I swear to god I will kill-“

“Lips are sealed, Picasso. See you at six.” He sent you a wink before disappearing out the door. You felt your stomach twist in knots, nervous that Danny was going to mention something to him.

You distracted yourself by scouring your closet for something acceptable to wear. You cursed him for leaving so soon; he didn’t even tell you where you were going. You had no idea if you should dress nice, or casual. As you checked the time, you decided that somewhere in the middle would be suitable. A nice shirt and a pair of black jeans, just to dress it down a bit. You went to the bathroom and quickly ran your curling iron through your hair with no real effort, just to give it a bit of volume. You brushed your teeth and touched up your makeup again, spritzing on some perfume before you walked back to your room. You threw on some jewelry, deciding if you were going to properly meet mystery boy, or Sam, rather, you were going to make a good first impression.

When the clock struck six, there was an insistent knock on your door. When you opened it, Danny was beaming down at you once more. “You clean up good, Picasso.” He complimented. Rarely did he ever see you out of your studio clothes; you were always covered in paint, or plaster, or some other sort of artistic expression. You spent more time in the studio than you did anywhere else. Of course, the workload was heavy even for first year, but you spent a lot of free time there, too. It was great for your mental health, and aside from your projects, you made smaller pieces to sell on the side. Unlimited access to art tools was a huge benefit to going to the university you chose, and your talent allowed you to make some extra money. Making a living off something you loved to do made your university experience a million times better.

“Thanks, Daniel.” You laughed. “Ready to go?” You asked.

“Yeah, you?” You nodded. You threw on a denim jacket, finishing off the outfit. You joined Danny in the hall, looking around to spot Sam. When you didn’t see him, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of disappointment.

“Where are we going?” You asked, distracting yourself from the feeling.

“There’s this little Italian restaurant downtown. I’ve been meaning to try it, but never got around to it. Figured tonight was as good as any other night. Is that cool with you?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m not picky.” You assured him.

“Awesome.” He breathed, making a move to the other side of the hallway. He stood before Sam’s door, sending a knock echoing through the air. Within a few seconds, the door swung open to reveal the boy you couldn’t seem to get out of your head. His hair was slightly damp, and the smell of his shampoo hit you almost instantly. He pointed at you without a word, causing you to shoot him a nervous look. He got a small laugh at your reaction.

“You copied my outfit.” He accused, a goofy smile etched onto his expression. You looked down at what you were wearing, then back to him. You were both wearing Jean jackets with a black base layer. After a second, you laughed, too.

“Guess so.” You shrugged, trying to ignore the incessant butterflies running rampant in your stomach. “I’m y/n,” you held a hand out to shake.

“Sam.” He said, reciprocating the gesture. “I guess we’ve never properly introduced ourselves.” He noted.

“Not very neighbourly of us, was it?” You chuckled. His eyes lingered over you, taking in the whole sight before humming an agreement. You desperately tried to fight away the blush rising to your cheeks, but failed miserably. You hoped he didn’t notice.

“I hear from Daniel that you’re quite the artist.” He said, the smile never leaving his face. At his words, the redness on your cheeks completely took over, leaving no doubt that he could see it.

“Modern day Picasso, actually.” Danny corrected.

“You’ll have to show me, sometime.” Sam’s tone was soft, no tone of sarcasm present.

“Maybe I can sneak you into the studio someday.” You offered.

“It’s a date, then.” He said it so effortlessly, like the words meant nothing, but it set every nerve in your body on fire.

“G-guess so,” you tried to cover up your stutter, but they certainly noticed. You were thankful they didn’t comment on it. Sam stepped into the hallway, closing his door behind him. The three of you ventured towards the exit of the building without another word.

The evening was cool, but not unbearable. By the time you’d walked to the restaurant, you had managed to shake some of the nervousness off. The small chatter and jokes eased the tension by miles, allowing you to enjoy the company rather than fear embarrassment. Danny went inside first, Sam holding the door open for both of you. You muttered a small thank you, disappearing inside of the building. The smell of the food was fantastic, and the decoration and atmosphere was incredibly inviting. Danny noticed a ‘seat yourself’ sign, taking it open himself to lead the group to a booth. He slid in one side and you sat across from him. Sam looked between the two seats, ultimately deciding to sit next to you. The booth was tiny, and as he settled and got comfortable, his leg was gently resting against yours. You felt your heart speed, trying not to focus on the constant contact.

You all ordered after taking a good look over the menu. As you were waiting, Sam turned to you to speak. “So, Picasso,” he started. You turned your head to look at him, strangely pleased at the way the nickname sounded on his tongue. “Any travel plans for the week?”

“Oh, no.” You shook your head. “Love them, but my family drives me crazy, and I have too much work to get done to go anywhere else.” You admitted. “You?”

“No, I thought it was best to stay, too. I get what you mean about the family thing. Love them to death, but peace and quiet is nice, sometimes.” He chuckled. “Daniel will have to go on the journey alone.”

“So you guys are from the same town?” You looked between the two. They both nodded.

“Yeah, best friends since, what, middle school?” Danny laughed.

“Pretty much.” Sam agreed.

“That’s cool, actually. Nice that you guys have a piece of home here with you.”

“What about you? Any piece of home here?” You shook your head.

“No, and thank god there isn’t. Wanted to get the hell out of my hometown and start over. It’s worked so far.” You explained.

“Where are you from?” Sam asked, now intrigued.

“Arizona. Small town in the middle of nowhere, where everybody looks and acts the same and you get chastised if you’re any different.”

“Mind-numbing.” He replied. You nodded, unable to agree more. “Everybody needs originality.”

“Not them, apparently. I couldn’t wait to leave, and I never want to go back.” You almost shuddered at the thought.

“So where after this?” Sam never let his eyes leave you, as if he wanted to engrave every detail of your face in his mind.

“Uh, wherever, I guess. I haven’t really thought about it. I may travel for a while if I can before I commit to anywhere.”

“Smart woman,” he gave a small smile. “Know your options before you settle down.”

“Yeah, I suppose you could look at it that way.” Your conversation was interrupted by the waitress bringing drinks and setting them in front of you. You sipped from your straw, pondering what to speak about, next. “What are you taking, Sam?” You suddenly remembered you hadn’t asked him, yet.

“Oh, music theory.” He said. You eyed him in shock, not expecting that answer.

“What instrument?”

“Piano, on the paper at least.” He laughed. “I like playing bass and guitar more, but I figured they’d be more likely to accept me with piano as my focus.”

“Smart move.” You pondered the information for a moment. “Listen to this one,” you caught both of their attention. “So, Picasso, Shakespeare and Billy Joel walk into an Italian restaurant,” you started, causing a chorus of laughter from both boys.

“You play a piano once and you can never escape the Billy Joel jokes.” Sam shook his head, ghost of a laugh still lingering on his lips. You couldn’t help but admire him, feeling the overwhelming curiosity of wondering what it would be like to kiss him.

“You’ll be alright, piano man.” Danny assured him.

“Yeah, you can even sing us a song, if you want. That might make you feel better.” He shot you a look of warning, but there was visible humour laced in it. The both of you were feeling the nervous tension melt away more by the second.

The time passed too quickly for your liking; the meal was fantastic and the company was even better. When the time to leave came around, you were begging the clock just for another minute. You had spent the whole night beating yourself up for not getting over your fear and speaking with Sam sooner. Aside from him being incredibly attractive, he was funny, and charming, and quite sweet, too. You felt like you’d missed out on a lot. Even if nothing romantic happened, you’d could consider yourself content just being his friend. When the waitress brought the bills over, Sam took it upon himself to ensure you couldn’t get your hands on the debit machine. As you all filtered back outside into the cool night air, your feeling of nervousness returned. Looking at Sam, how the glow from the street lights casted over his face, how his hair flowed in solidarity, messy but perfect all in one, made you realize that knowing him only made the desire so much stronger.

Somewhere deep down you hoped he was an asshole, so you could finally shake the hopeless feeling of need for him. The more you talked to him, the more you fell for the goofiness of his aura, the humour he wore so proudly, or the kindness permanently anchored behind his words. He was more than just a pretty face, and to you, it was devastating. The last thing you wanted was to fall for someone, but you were well aware that it had happened long before your night of pasta critique. “You headed back to dorm?” Sam asked, his hand on your upper arm breaking you from your thoughts. You swallowed hard, trying to shake off your brains’ incessant reminders of what it felt like to be touched by him.

“Yeah,” you nodded.

“I’m headed out, now, I think.” Danny said, looking between the two of you. “Packed the car earlier, so I should hit the road.”

“Oh,” you breathed, trying to keep your eyes on him, and him only. “Which lot are you parked in?”

“The one by our building. I’ll walk back with you guys.” You nodded at his words, feeling a sudden rush of relief knowing you wouldn’t have to walk alone with Sam. Not that you would mind being alone with him, more of a fear of embarrassing yourself somehow. The three of you started the short walk with few words exchanged in the process. When you reached the entrance to the parking lot, you all stopped to bid a farewell.

Danny pulled you into a quick hug, thanking you for going to dinner. He hugged Sam, letting him know he’d text him when he was back home. “Might text for poetry help.” You smiled at him.

“You could text me just to say hi, too, you know.” Danny reminded.

“That is my way of saying hi.” You laughed. “Too nervous to be upfront.”

“No need for that, Picasso. I’ll see you guys soon.” He promised. You and Sam waved goodbye as he parted from the trio, leaving the two of you to yourselves. You kept your eyes glued to the ground, wanting to look anywhere other than his beautiful face.

“You have anywhere to be?” Sam eventually spoke. You found the courage to meet his eyes, feeling the butterflies erupt in your stomach once more.

“I was thinking about heading to the studio, actually.” You very much enjoyed your 24/7 access to the art building. It made your usually boring weekends a bit more enjoyable.

“Care for some company?” He smiled.

“You trying to get me in trouble, piano man?” You smirked.

“Nobody will ever know I was there.” He promised. You pondered the idea, realizing that it was more than likely nobody would be there, anyway. It was usually quite barren in the evenings, even more so considering the week-long holiday.

“Okay.” You nodded, holding your hand out for him to grab. “Come on.” He wasted no time slipping his hand into yours. You took off in a run back to the dorm with him following closely behind. You both made it to the front entrance of the building, keying in and immediately running to your rooms. “I just have to change.” You told him before disappearing into your room. You quickly changed into your work clothes, realizing how embarrassing the new outfit was. There was old paint stains on the t-shirt and jeans, years worth of artistic memories begging to be washed away. You didn’t waste too much time dwelling, too eager to be back in Sam’s company.

You were nervous to be alone with him, but the thrill of seclusion with him was overshadowing anything else. You thought maybe you’d be able to unravel some of the mystery, to get a chance to hear about his stories and memories that were hidden away. When you went back into the hallway, Sam was waiting for you. He had also changed into different clothes, a pair of sweatpants and a tattered old band shirt with the logo worn down to just a shadow. He had a sly smile graced his lips. “Ready?” You breathed. He gave a nod, silently hoping you’d reach out for his hand again. When you started walking down the hall, he followed after you, only momentary disappointment taking over.

You walked side by side to the art building, buzzing with unspoken excitement. When you reached the doorway, you scanned your access card on the reader and the lock clicked open. As you pulled on the handle, you looked back at him and pressed a finger to your lips, signalling for him to stay quiet, just in case anyone else was around. Regular students were allowed in the art building during office hours, but art students were the only ones granted access outside of normal school times. You were sure you’d only get a slap on the wrist if someone realized he wasn’t an art student, but you still didn’t want to take the chance. He nodded, ensuring he wouldn’t make a peep. You took his hand again, leading him inside and directly to the stairwell to the basement.

You took a sigh of relief when you let the studio door close behind you. You went right to your small locker where you stored your paint supplies and brushes. You unlocked it with a tiny key you kept around your neck. You pulled out your belongings, nodding Sam in the direction of the main room. The bright fluorescent lights were nothing new to you, but it seemed like it almost caught him off guard. You set your stuff down on a desk and grabbed an easel, carrying it over to where you were planning to sit. “I’ll be right back.” You told him, walking off to a side room. You opened the door, flicking the light on in the small storage space. You grabbed your large canvas, careful not to bump the front of it, worried it still may not have completely dried. You took it back out to the main room and propped it up on the easel, pulling a stool in front of it.

Sam moved a second chair over, sitting beside you. His eyes drifted over the artwork, scanning it intently and drinking up every detail like he needed it to survive. “I see why Danny calls you Picasso, now.” He mumbled, still looking over all of the details. You felt the redness creep up on your cheeks again, flattered at his compliment. “This place anything special to you, or just a stock photo?” There was a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Well, the cabin is. It’s my family’s. We spent a lot of time up there when I was a kid. The background is pretty dramatized, cause my inspiration pictures were a little bland.” You chuckled. “We’ve been working on landscapes, so I figured I would paint something meaningful.” The large oil painting had the image of the aforementioned cabin nestled in a plot of trees. The leaves were radiating the colours of autumn, and the neutral mountains in the background made the colours stand out. A small stream flowed through the mountain valley, and birds floated through the air. There were patches of flowery grass and bushes covering the ground. The outline was finished, and you’d been working on the intimate details of the piece. You were estimating only a few more hours of work, eager to have this finished so you could move on to the next project.

“It’s stunning.” He said, moving back to look at you again.

“Thanks,” your voice was soft, full of gratitude.

“Have you always wanted to be an artist?” He asked. You thought about the question, pondering the appropriate answer.

“I always loved art, but don’t think I actually decided to study it until late into high school. I never thought I’d be able to make it, but then I entered a few contests and won, and I guess it kind of kick started the process of getting here. At first, my parents weren’t super supportive of the idea. I think they’d rather me be a doctor or a lawyer, but they knew it would only make me miserable. Now that they see what I’m doing, and how happy it makes me, they’re a bit more on board. Their encouragement really helped me feel like I was supposed to be here.” You explained. “Deep down, I probably always knew I would do art for a living, but I fought it for a long time. It’s not really regarded as a ‘profession’, and I think that discouraged me for a long time.”

“Don’t ever feel that way again.” He shook his head, looking back towards the canvas. “Someone with talent like this should never second guess themselves.” You swallowed hard, having a difficult time digesting such a compliment. “This is the type of stuff to end up in galleries.”

“You’ll have to let me design your album art when you release your EP, then.” You smiled.

“You haven’t even heard me play yet.” He brushed the comment off, a small laugh lingering in his words.

“Don’t have to, I just know.” You said, pulling out your glass palate. You sifted through your bag of paints, choosing the colours carefully. You squeezed small amounts on the surface, looking back towards the large painting. You started to work, unsure of where the conversation would lead to next.

“What music do you like?” He asked, watching your hands as you painted.

“Everything.” You said, never losing your focus. “Not picky.”

“You have to have a favourite.” He inquired. A smile tugged at your lips.

“Well, yeah.” You rolled your eyes.

“What is it, then?” He laughed, eyes moving to your face.

“Guess.” You thought if he wanted to get to know you, he could work for it, first. At least a little bit.

“You’re a classical person, aren’t you?” You looked at him through the corner of your eyes, furrowing your eyebrows slightly.

“Insulting,” you replied. “You think I’m that boring?” You teased.

“Worth a shot.” He shrugged. “Rock?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I like metal, too, but I mostly stick with rock.”

“Never would have guessed the metal part.” His surprise was showing in his expression.

“Yeah, well, I have lots of tricks up my sleeve.” You chuckled, wiping your brush on your apron.

“Can’t wait to figure them out.” His words were smooth, concise, even, as if he was waiting to deliver the line the whole night. Your stomach fluttered with the thought of him wanting to know more about you. You both fell into a silence, eventually playing music off your phone to fill the stale air. You were fine without words exchanged; you enjoyed him sitting with you while you worked. He didn’t seem to mind either, enthralled in your technique. “What’s your favourite thing to paint?” He eventually disturbed the quiet.

“I like nature. It’s always so calming to recreate. So many different options, and imperfections don’t cause an issue, because nature isn’t perfect. I think that’s what makes it beautiful.” You explained. He nodded along, hoping you would keep talking. You noticed, feeling less reserved about your ramblings, realizing you wanted to share them with him. “Nature is the only constant. It was here from the beginning, and it will be here long after we die, even if it’s changed million times. It carries infinite memories from every era, and it’s our only consistency in this lifetime, and the ones previous. I like the idea of a timeless art piece. If someone looks at this a hundred years from now, they’ll be able to appreciate it the same way we can. Nobody will have to wonder about the origins of the picture. People die, animals pass, but the earth always outlives us. When the day comes and it dies, too, we go with it.” He nodded again, studying your face. He had been for a while, although you hadn’t really noticed. He was watching the way your eyes focused when you were doing delicate work, or how your lips pursed when your brush wasn’t doing exactly what you wanted it to. He also noticed every time you let out a minuscule sigh, content with the flow of the paint, or when you smiled when a familiar song came on the shuffle. He’d been studying you just as much as you did, him, admiring you just the same. He was enthralled in your presence, also never expecting to have you this close to him.

The art of your silent admiration had left little room for belief of a chance for it to happen so intimately. He was basking in the moment, in you. The smell of the paint and your perfume was embedding the memory in his brain forever. The beauty in your passion was electrifying, and he was certain he could watch it all day. He also felt the same when he passed you in the hallways, and caught himself peeking into your room when you had the door open. He felt the same fluster when you smiled at him, and awaited the conversations when Danny spoke your name. He also struggled with the idea of talking to you first, worried about rejection or embarrassment. From what he’d seen, you never showed an inkling of interest, and he didn’t want to come off in the wrong way. When Danny brought the idea of inviting you to dinner, he nearly jumped at the opportunity. Sam’s feelings had also remained quite silent, although his childhood best friend was quick to catch on to the situation. Now with a promise to both of you that your emotions would be kept a secret, it was up to both of you to figure things out. All Danny could do was cheer you on from both sides. “You’ve got a beautiful way of seeing the world.” He noted.

“If you don’t love the earth, you can’t expect it to love you back.” You said, finally turning to look over at him. You were caught off guard at his proximity, noticing he had definitely moved closer since you’d started working. He was sitting a little ahead of you, but his body was turned to be angled towards you. When he caught your surprised look, he gave a small smile.

“I thought you wanted to come and see the art, Sam.” You teased, finding the confidence to make a quick pass about his position.

“I’m looking at it.” He quipped back without a moment of hesitation. You opened your mouth to reply, but couldn’t find any words, flustered at the proclamation. Without another word, he turned to look back at the canvas, leaving you to wonder if his words were satire, or if they had meaning. You took a few seconds to recover, but ultimately pushed the statement to the back of your mind. You continued on, dabbing blots of paint onto the picture and blending it gently. “You know, if you’re looking for a customer, I’d be happy to take this off your hands when you’re finished.”

“You couldn’t afford me, Kiszka.” You joked, using the tip of your finger to get a better blend on a saturated area. You fixed it up with a brush afterwards.

“You think so?” He hummed, not bothering to turn and face you.

“I know so.” You told him, wiping your hand on the apron. You weren’t sure if it was the months of tension catching up to you, or the exhaustion, or the smell of his cologne, but you were desperate for him to turn and face you again. “If you want it, it’s yours.” You breathed, deciding to drop the facade. “Once it’s graded, I have nowhere to put it.”

“How much do you want for it?” He asked, still facing away from you.

“Free, for you.” You said softly, a smile creeping up on you.

“Absolutely not.” He turned now, finally meeting your eyes. “You worked hard on it, you used your own materials. I’m giving you something for it.” He said, finality dripping in his tone. You couldn’t help but shift under his gaze, the authority sending a pleasant jolt of electricity through you.

“Think of it as a token of friendship.” You whispered, unable to stop yourself from looking over his features. The admiration in your eyes was impossible to overlook.

“Friendship?” He questioned after a moment of silence, a new sense of confidence washing over him. “Ouch,” he said, the same cocky smirk playing on the corner of his mouth. You bit the inside of your lip, feeling your breath catch in your throat. You weren’t so willing to fall for the idea that he may have felt the same way. Instead of turning away, he watched you, hoping you’d make a notion of reciprocation. After the shock wore off, you started to understand that he was being serious.

“Courtship?” You corrected yourself, feeling your heart drumming against your chest.

“I think I like that better,” he whispered, eyes falling down to your lips for a second before correcting himself. “Do you?”

“I certainly don’t have an issue with it.” You admitted. He watched you carefully, almost as if he was nervous to advance the situation any further. After a moment of deliberation, he reached his hand up and cupped your cheek, using his thumb to wipe off a smudge of paint.

“Some paint,” he informed you.

“Oh,” you breathed, eyes never leaving him. “Did you get it all?” He inspected further, tucking some hair behind your ear as he did so.

“Mm, I think I missed a spot.” He deducted. You set your palate and brush on the table, not wanting to miss a moment of him. He advanced further, but only slightly, pretending to look harder. You couldn’t fight back a smile. “Want me to get it?” He looked back up at your eyes, hand never moving from your cheek.

“Okay,” you nodded, playing into his act.

“You sure?” He asked again, mostly to tease, but he also wanted to ensure you were comfortable.

“Positive.” You promised. Without wasting any more time, he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours.

It was soft, but his lips felt like they were burning into your skin. You reached your own hand out, letting it fall to the back of his neck. You pulled him closer, careful not to get any paint on his clothes in the process. He ran his tongue across your bottom lip, practically begging for more. You were quick to respond, parting your lips and allowing him to deepen the kiss. His other hand slipped to your hip, letting his fingers gently sink into the skin. When he pulled away, you were both breathless and craving more. He let his forehead rest on yours, dreading putting any more distance between your bodies. You gave a smile, unsure of what else you could do to express how you felt. It was like months of torture finally derived into pleasure. No more watching him as he walked past, wondering about his name or what it would be like to say it, or hear him say yours. No more wondering what it felt like to be kissed by him, because now, you knew, and it was way better than you ever imagined. “I’m not sure if I got it.” He admitted, causing a giggle from you. He pulled you in for another kiss, this one shorter and more lighthearted.

“Is it gone?” You asked, intoxicated from the feeling of his lips.

“If I said no, would you believe me?” You could hear his smile in his words.

“Yeah, just because I’d like to kiss you again, though.” His thumb trailed over your cheek as he rested his hand on your jaw. He placed a small peck on your lips, causing you to hum in satisfaction. “I wanted to do that for a really long time.” You said. He pulled back a bit, taking in your expression.

“Me, too.” He chuckled.

“Really?” He gave a nod.

“Since the first time I saw you.”

“Me, too.” You copied his earlier statement. “It’s been a long couple months of admiring you from a distance.”

“Why’d you never say anything?” He questioned, hand still keeping a delicate hold on your face.

“I was scared. Thought maybe you’d think I was weird, or you’d be an asshole. You’re too pretty to be nice, too. It’s not fair.” You laughed. “I didn’t even think you knew I existed.”

“How could I not?” He was almost offended at the thought. You shrugged your shoulders. “You’re the only person I’ve been looking at.” You felt your cheeks heat up again, angry that you couldn’t hide your emotion. “Danny’s been begging me to talk to you for weeks, but I guess I was scared, too.” It clicked in your brain, suddenly making sense why he was so excited when you told him you thought Sam was cute.

“Doesn’t matter,” You told him “We know now.” He nodded, agreeing silently. “Did you want to go back to my room, maybe?” You realized your statement was a bit forward only after you’d said it, but you didn’t really care. You were too caught up in the moment to worry about moving too fast, or any what-if’s. Your small amount of worry was subsided when he immediately stood, holding his hand out to you. You took it, letting him help you stand.

Both of you made quick work at cleaning up the mess you made, buzzing with excitement at the idea of being alone together. Within a few minutes, you had his hand in yours, and you were guiding him back through the unfamiliar building. You checked the main floor before you emerged, making sure there was no security checking out the place. You knew they could be assholes, and almost always asked for an access pass. When you deducted the coast was clear, you pulled him through the lobby and out the front door. You were both in a fit of giggles by the time you reached the dorm building, fumbling with keycards to let yourselves in. The hallways were barren, almost all of the students already gone for their spring trips. It made your journey all the faster, allowing you to make it to your room in record time without any interruption.

You opened the door for him, motioning got him to go inside first. He did so, eyes immediately taking in the sight. He’d caught glimpses of your room, but never got the chance to really see it. There was artwork plastered over the walls, some yours and some from your friends, or even reprints of famous artists. There were ambient lights bordering the ceilings, set to a constant colour. There were paintbrushes and textbooks littering your desk, along with a few empty coffee cups. There were a plethora of Polaroids hung on your bulletin board, a receipt book of memories from the lifetime he wanted to so badly know about. The smell of your perfume lingered in the air and your bed, although messy, looked extraordinarily inviting.

You gave him a small smile, nervous about what he was thinking. “I love it in here.” He said, almost like he could read your mind. You let out a small sigh of relief. His eyes drifted towards the small clay sculptures you’d been messing around with. He leaned closer, smiling at the intricate detail.

“You should come over more often, then.” You smiled.

“I think you’re gonna have a hard time getting rid of me, now.” He laughed. The sound was more beautiful than any you’d heard before.

“Fine by me.” You admitted. “I’m gonna change out of these. Just give me a minute.” He nodded, watching you as you picked some clothes from your closet. You brought them to the bathroom, changing into the shorts and t-shirt. You looked at yourself in the mirror, nearly wincing at the sight. You quickly fixed your makeup with your fingers and brushed your teeth. You sprayed a bit more perfume on the new clothes, and rejoined him. He was still standing awkwardly by your desk, unsure of where to sit. “You can sit on the bed.” You smiled, finding the timidity cute.

“Oh, okay.” He said, looking towards the mattress and sitting down.

“Did you want to watch a movie?” You asked.

“Sure.” He grinned. You went to your laptop, quickly logging in and pulling up Netflix. “I don’t care what we watch.” He admitted. You put on one of the first recommended movies, turning the volume up slightly. You climbed into bed next to him, propping a pillow against the wall and leaning back. He did the same, settling next to you, much closer than anyone else would normally sit.

The intro credits rolled for the movie, giving you a moment to relax from the close proximity. You leaned into him slightly, but not enough to make it obvious. You pulled your comforter over your legs, snuggling into the warmth. You let your hand rest on top of the blanket as you eyed his sitting in his lap. You’d been on dates, but not once since you moved away from your hometown had you felt so adolescent in romance. It felt like you were going through the motions for the first time, completely blind in knowledge. You had no idea how to approach him, how to initiate any of the intimacy you’d been yearning for. You hadn’t noticed you were staring at him, but he certainly did. He looked over to you, giving you a small, soft smile. In response, it made your heart skip a beat.

He took the opportunity to reach over and slip his hand into yours, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. The contact immediately subsided your anxiety, and you finally felt the ability to focus on the screen. After a few moments, you even found the courage to rest your head on his shoulder. The both of you watched the movie in silence, his thumb rubbing small circles over the back of your hand while you did so. As the film progressed, so did your comfortability. By the middle of it, you both had shifted dramatically. He was laying down, and you were resting atop of him, head nestled in his chest. His palm was firmly planted on your lower back, and his other gently tracing shapes into your arm. If you weren’t so energized from being so close to him, you were certain you could fall asleep in that position.

His hand that was on your arm moved to your face, fingers gently pushing your hair away. You closed your eyes, revelling in the feeling. He gently combed through the knots before settling his hand back on your cheek. He guided you to look up at him, sending a smile your way. You returned it, thinking that you would be fine if his face was the only one you could ever see again. “Thanks for inviting me over.” He said, admiring every feature. He knew that you were beautiful from every time he’d seen you before that night, but he realized that he’d been missing out on the best part. Having you laying with him, sleepiness laced in your eyes, made him realize that there was never a time where you were more beautiful. The innocent intimacy was overwhelming in the best possible way, leaving him to believe he could die happy as long as he got to hold you.

“It’s crazy, you know.” You sighed, propping yourself up on your elbow to get a better look at him.

“Hmm?” He replied, fingers dancing in the ends of your hair.

“I spent so long with this stupid little crush. I think because of it, I kind of put you on a pedestal. I forgot you were a person, too. I never believed that I could ever be with you like this. It always felt impossible.”

“I did the same thing.” He admitted, feeling better about it knowing you felt that way, too. “It’s weird. Dating in college is so much different than high school.” He chuckled. You nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly.

“It feels more… adult. In high school, I had to ask my parents permission to go on a date. Now, I can just invite you over whenever I want.” You thought aloud. “But I don’t feel any different. I still feel the same as I did a year ago.”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “It’s strange, knowing that we’re supposed to be adults, now. Especially when I still feel like a kid.”

“I think it’s a good buffer period,” you shrugged. “Pretend to be adults, get the experience, but still be able to make mistakes and learn from them. We get to practice living alone and being responsible, but still get to do stupid shit.” He laughed at your comment, but understood your point.

“I like you, Picasso.” He said, his hand landing on the back of your neck. You smiled at the words.

“I like you, too.” You admitted, eyes trailing over his face in admiration.

“I think it would be cool if we could do stupid shit and learn from our mistakes… together.” He mumbled, gaze focused only on you.

“What are you saying, Billy Joel?” You smirked as he rolled his eyes at the nickname.

“I’m saying,” he paused, eyes flickering down to your lips for a moment. “I would like to do this…. more often.” He articulated his words carefully, a bit nervous to say them.

“I think that would be quite alright.” You deducted. He visibly relaxed at your confirmation. “I… uh, I’m not good at this stuff.” You admitted.

“That’s okay.” He said, tangling his fingers in the hair at the base of your skull. He gently massaged his fingers over your scalp, causing a slight hum of pleasure from you. “That’s part of the making mistakes and learning from them, right?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, entranced in the feeling of him touching you. “I’ve never really had a boyfriend, or anything like that. Been on a few dates, but they ended pretty terribly.” You admitted. He cocked his head to the side, studying you as you spoke. “Like I said before, all of the boys from my hometown are all the same. I learned my lesson, and I realized nothing meaningful would ever come from it, so I just… didn’t.”

“You can talk about it, if you want.” He offered.

“There’s really not much to talk about.” You told him, remembering back to your high school years. “I don’t know if it was just the type of people that lived in the town, or if it was a teenage boy thing, but they just cared about getting laid and nothing more. It was unbearable, and I fell for it a few times, but nobody ever cared about me past the surface. I’ve never met a boy who wanted to know me like you do, or would even admit that they liked me out loud, for that matter. Nobody has ever asked me questions about myself, or my art. It was nice being seen as a person rather than a body.” You muttered the last part, hating saying it aloud.

“They have no idea what they missed out on, then.” He said, bringing you closer and placing a kiss on your forehead. “I’ve only known you, well, really known you, for a day. I already know that I’d be more than lucky to have a chance with you.” Your cheeks turned red, luckily covered by the darkness of the room this time. “They didn’t deserve you. Nobody should make you feel like you can only be loved in privacy. You’re worth more than that.” Your eyes fluttered up to meet his as your brain wondered if the interaction was real, or a grandly fabricated dream. You leaned forward, unable to satiate the need to kiss him again.

He accepted the gesture enthusiastically, using his hands to pull you impossibly closer. You brought your hand to his face, cupping his cheek. After a moment, you couldn’t help but want more. You shifted, trying your best not to break the kiss, placing both of your legs on either side of him. He broke away for a second, just long enough to prop himself up against the wall so you wouldn’t be uncomfortable. He wasted no time, capturing you in another kiss. His hands found your hips, fingers holding you firmly but delicately all at once. You snaked your hand to the back of his neck, holding him like you were scared he would get away from you. When you pulled back, you were both breathless with stars dancing in your eyes.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” He said quickly, mind still occupied with the thought of kissing you. “I’m okay if we just lay here and talk.”

“I want to if you do.” You assured him, finally feeling the months of tension reach the breaking point.

“Are you sure?” He asked, searching your face for an honest answer.

“Positive.” You promised, making sure he saw you were being genuine. “I just… I’ve never…yeah.” You trailed off, suddenly a bit embarrassed. He watched you, trying to piece together what you were saying. “I’ve never had sex.” You blurted out, realizing he wasn’t fully understanding you. “I mean, I’ve done some stuff, but never…” you breathed, your face burning for a whole new reason.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He reached his hand to your face, keeping your head straight so you would look at him. You were a virgin in all technical terms, only having awkward sexual experiences and moments with failed flings in high school. It wasn’t a virtue thing, more of a feeling of never finding the right person. With him, you felt comfortable, and were certain that it would be enjoyable. You didn’t have to have experience to assume that. You could tell just by looking at him, by how he spoke to you. He cared about your comfortability, and that was a major green flag. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” His tone was firm.

“No, I want to.” You said quickly, making sure he knew. “I just… I want you to have a good time, and I’m just nervous, I think. I don’t want to… disappoint.” He let out a chuckle, shaking his head at the blasphemous idea.

“Yeah, that’s not even a possibility.” He shut the fear down almost as soon as it sprouted. “I’m gonna have a good time because I’m with you.” He promised. “I don’t expect anything, or anything like that. I’m more concerned with you having a good time.” He said, bringing your face down to place a soft kiss on your lips. “We’ll take it slow, okay? Make sure you enjoy yourself.” He mumbled, his mouth only millimetres away from your own. “That sound okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, giving a small nod. You could feel his smile from as he kissed you again.

“You can tell me to stop, or slow down, or whatever you need at any point, okay?” He explained when he pulled back. You nodded. “You can tell me what you like, too. Don’t be shy.” You nodded again. “I need to hear the words, baby.”

“Okay.” You verbally confirmed. He tapped your thigh, silently letting you know he wanted you to get up. You did so, allowing him to move over to the side.

“Lay down for me,” he said, his tone had authority but it was incredibly soft, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable. You laid back, eyes locked on his face. You were still anxious, but he was easing it more by the second. He turned onto his side to face you, guiding your face to his once more and connecting your mouths. You kissed him back with more neediness than before, excited by the idea of his hands on you. He slipped his fingers under the hem of your shirt, letting them dance over your skin so you could grow accustom to the feeling.

As he became familiar with the feeling of your body, he took his chance to deepen the kiss. You couldn’t help but let a few small moans of delight out, only fuelling him further. He went slow, working you up to speed. He didn’t want to rush you, or push you too far. He let you take the lead with progressing any further, waiting until you made a move to take an article of clothing away. When you tugged at the hem of his shirt, he moved back from you so he could pull it over his head. You let your eyes fall over his exposed torso, feeling your stomach flutter at the sight. He smiled at your expression, but didn’t say a word in fear of you feeling embarrassed. He made a move towards your waistband, watching your eyes intently as he did so. You gave him a nod of encouragement, letting him know you were okay. He hooked his fingers through the sides and slowly pulled the shorts from your body. You sat up and removed your shirt, too.

His breath caught in his throat at the sight of you in just your undergarments, having to do for a moment just to appreciate the view. “Gorgeous,” he hummed, lowering his head to you once more. He left a trail of gentle kisses across you collarbones, letting his hands trail over your exposed thighs. The minuscule touches were driving you crazy; you had no idea it could feel so good to be admired by someone. His lips moved downward, skipping over your chest and landing on your sternum. He started to get sloppier the further he progressed downwards. By the time he reached your navel, you were practically a mess. He looked up at you, eyelids heavy, taking in every detail of you. The way your chest rose and fell while you breathed, the way your lips stayed slightly parted, the way your hand felt tangled in his hair. It was driving him crazy.

He moved up again, motioning for you to lift your back from the bed. You did as he wanted, allowing him to snake his arms around you and unclasp your bra. He pulled it from your body, discarding it carelessly on the floor. He sucked a sharp breath through his teeth when he finally saw the full view. He was nestled between your legs, one hand planted beside you on the mattress, holding him up upright. His other hand returned to you, resting on your rib cage as light as a feather. He looked to you for permission before doing anything else. “I’m okay, I promise. I’ll tell you if I’m not.” You appreciated his consideration, but you were beginning to feel a bit desperate for more. He didn’t say anything, just brought his hand to your breast and brushed his thumb lightly over your hardened nipple.

The feeling was new, but very welcomed. The small touch sent a jolt of emotion through you. You watched him intently, anticipating his next movement. He brought his mouth to your nipple and pulled it into his mouth. You let out a shaky exhale at the sensation. He flicked his tongue over it a few times, really becoming familiar with you. When he pulled away, you couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed at the loss of contact. He smiled at your sigh of discontent. “Feel good?” He hummed.

“Yeah,” you breathed. He sat upright on his knees, bringing both of his hands to your hips and hooking his fingers through your underwear. You bit the inside of your lip, enthusiastic but still a bit nervous. You lifted your hips from the bed, allowing him to pull them off with ease. He tossed them to the floor, not caring where they landed. He was only concerned with you, now fully naked and laying beneath him. He caught sight of your face, noticing that your eyes were looking away from him.

“Hey,” he whispered. You finally found the courage to look up at him. “You okay, beautiful?” You were glad he disregarded your earlier statement, finding it much easier to communicate with him if he initiated it.

“Yeah, just nervous. It’s nothing you’re doing.” You promised.

“You want to stop?” You shook your head, unable to think of a worse idea. He didn’t immediately jump back to action at the expression, but spoke again after a few moments. “We’ll go slow, okay? This is for you. I wanna give you a good time.” You felt a smile growing on your lips at his words.

“Okay,” you affirmed. He leaned down, placing a soft kiss on your lips. You felt like you could live in that moment forever.

“Don’t have to be shy, or nervous. Promise I’m gonna take care of you.” He said as he pulled away. “Just tell me to stop, or slow down if you need to. You’re in charge.” You managed another nod as he sunk back between your legs. He laid on his stomach, head inches from your heat. You felt the anxiety lingering, but it was rapidly overtaken by excitement. He placed a few kisses on the inside of your thighs, one arm snaked under one of your legs and gently caressing the outside of your thigh. He brought his free hand to your cunt, fingers ghosting over the area. He looked up to you as if to ask permission. You gave him another nod, assuring him it was okay.

He slowly advanced, wanting to give you ample time to change your mind if you needed to. When you stayed quiet, eyes watching him with anticipation, he took it as a good sign. He ran his fingers through your folds, letting you get used to the feeling before doing anything else. You bit into the inside of your lip, trying to wrap your head around the unfamiliar sensation. It was definitely different when someone else was touching you, you noted. He gathered some of your arousal on his fingers. He spread the wetness to your clit, bringing his thumb to the sensitive area and slowly rubbing light circles into it. Your breath caught in your throat, the feeling taking you by surprise. His eyes flickered to your face, feeling a bit of satisfaction at the sound. You looked down at him, meeting his gaze and feeling a different type of pleasure at the sight.

“How’s that?” His voice was quiet, barely noticeable if not for your intent focus on his every action. “Does that feel okay?”

“Yeah,” you said, less enthralled in the movement of his hands than you were at the look on his face. He had a small smile playing on his lips, but the admiration for you he held in his eyes was worth more than words. He didn’t speak again, but kept his focus on the pattern of his thumb. He applied a bit more pressure, watching your face for a reaction. You let in a sharp intake of breath, feeling the sensation change from unfamiliar to pleasurable. His jaw clenched slightly, the sound running straight through him and settling in his bones. It was small, barely there, but it was blissful to his ears.

He worked at you for a few moments, gentle and loving with every move. It felt good, the nervousness almost completely gone, but there was enough there for you to hold yourself back. Your noises were limited, mostly from fear of embarrassment. You were so caught up in the worry of looking dumb that you were almost overlooking the scene before you. It didn’t deter him, though. If anything, it only drove him further. He was aching too hear the beautiful sounds begging to be let out, and he’d be damned if he couldn’t get them out of you. You watched him closely, not wanting to miss a moment of his presence. He leaned forward, letting a line of spit fall from his lips onto his fingers. You swallowed hard, the small action sending a rush of pleasure through you.

He ran his fingers through your cunt again, making sure the lubrication didn’t go to waste. His middle finger slowed and eventually stopped just before your entrance. “Tell me if you’re uncomfortable, okay?” He asked, but his tone was more of a demand. You nodded, too caught up in the idea of his fingers almost inside of you to worry about anything else. After a second, he slowly sunk his finger into you, studying you for any sign of discomfort. When you went without protest, he fully pushed his finger in, letting his thumb fall back on your clit. He continued his circles, now adding the stimulation of pumping his finger into you. You let a breathy moan out, unable to hold it back anymore. “That’s it baby,” he practically groaned, ecstatic to hear the noise. “You’re doing s’good.” The praise, although unexpected, was very well received. Knowing that he was enjoying himself solely by pleasuring you was a fantastic feeling. Knowing that he was only concerned with you feeling good was enough to satiate the anxiety.

He continued his pace for a while, eventually adding another finger when you felt you were ready. You were a mess, caught up in the pleasure but worried, too, because you hadn’t felt the creep of an impending orgasm. His hand was steady, never wavering, and his eyes were locked on you. Every so often, he pressed his lips into the skin on your thighs or your hipbones, just as a small act of affection. “Sam, I-I don’t know if I’m gonna cum.” You admitted, voice shaky and a bit defeated.

“You will,” he promised, unfazed by the statement. “Don’t be nervous.”

“I just…” you let out a sigh, frustrated with yourself. “It’s not you, it’s me.” He pulled back, halting his movements.

“I can stop if that’s what you want, baby.” His words were coated with sincerity. “Or are you just worried you can’t cum?” He inquired.

“I don’t want you to stop, I’m having a good time. I just don’t know if I can.” You explained, feeling embarrassment settle in your chest.

“I’ve got all night.” He said, shrugging off the worry. “Can’t think of anything I’d rather be doing.” He gave you a smile.

“I want you to have a good time, too, though.”

“Oh, I am.” His tone changed from gentle to firm. “Don’t worry about that.” You watched him with uncertainty, but the look in his eye was nothing but affirmative of his statement. “Don’t worry about anything. Just lay there and focus on how it feels, okay?” You nodded. “No worries about if you’re gonna cum or not, no worrying about me having a good time, just relax and enjoy the feeling. If you don’t cum, we’ll try again next time.” Your heard sped at the realization that he was planning on this being more than a one-time thing. It was comforting, knowing that he was learning about you so intimately, but wasn’t planning on running. He didn’t want to get your clothes off and never speak to you again like the majority of boys you’d ever known.

“Y-yeah, okay.” You replied. He cocked his head to the side, wondering why the hesitation was so present. “You, uh… next time?” He couldn’t help but grin at your question.

“I mean, yeah, if you want that, of course.”

“Yeah, I do.” You rushed out, hoping you hadn’t made him feel otherwise.

“Then it’s settled.” He hummed. “Not just the sex part, though. The dinner and the hanging out was great, and I’d very much like to do that, too.” You let out a small giggle at his words, finding the explanation cute.

“Me, too.” You assured him.

“Breakfast tomorrow?” He asked, a smirk on the corner of his lips. He started to move his fingers again, taking you by surprise. You let out a gasp at the suddenness, immediately feeling the pleasure return.

“S-sure,” you breathed, giving him a nod. He decided to stop messing with you, wanting to ensure you were as comfortable as you could be. He worked himself back up to his earlier pace, making it nearly impossible for you to think of anything else. He let another trail of spit fall onto his fingers, making sure it wasn’t too dry for you.

After a few moments, you did start to feel a little less insecure. His eyes were watching you, studying every minute detail. He noticed the rise and fall of your chest speed as he continued pumping his fingers in and out of you, the way you occasionally pulled your bottom lip between your teeth in attempt to silence yourself. He watched how your eyebrows furrowed slightly when he brushed over your clit just right, and how your eyes stayed almost permanently shut. He thought you were the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. Eventually, a blissful moan slipped from your mouth as his fingers hit the perfect spot. His eyes rolled back slightly, soaking up the sound. “That’s it, baby.” He encouraged you, fingers never stopping.

The words of motivation helped ease your tension. Your stiffness dissipated, your shoulders relaxing back on the pillows a bit. Your neck let your head fall back, leaving you completely at ease for the time being. A few more short-lived moans fell from your lips, all hitting him with a stronger force each time. “Doing so good, princess.” He said, noticing the effect his words had on you last time. “Cum for me, baby. You can do it.” He whispered. The demand went straight to your core, and you started to feel a sensation grow in the pit of your stomach. It was a feeling you’d only ever given yourself; it was way more intense when produced by another person.

“Fuck, Sam.” You whimpered, a gentle warning that you were getting closer. His heart drummed against his chest, clearly excited at the obscene proclamation. He took a risk, removing his thumb from your clit and lowering his head until his lips were touching you. You didn’t realize what he was doing until his tongue darted over the sensitive nerves, causing an involuntarily buck of your hips. He used his hand that was hooked under your leg to hold you down on the mattress.

Your fear of not being able to cum was quickly diminished with the new, even more unfamiliar feeling. It was heavenly. You let a low groan out, feeling the knot in your belly tighten. You slipped your hand down and tangling your fingers in the roots of his hair. He pulled his mouth off you only for a second, just to get one more praise in. “Taste so good, princess.” He said, slipping his thumb back in place of his mouth. You could only whimper in response, already missing the feeling of his tongue. “That’s it, baby. Look at you,” he whispered the last part more to himself than anything else. He only let his eyes hover over your expression for a moment longer, returning his tongue to you.

It didn’t take long to get to where he wanted you to be. Within a few minutes, you were gripping at his hair, panting and moaning, your orgasm begging you to let go. His tongue was moving at a steady pace, and his fingers curled with every re-entry, hitting a spot inside you that nothing ever had before. You let your head fall back, feeling the pressure reach its peak. A wave of pleasure overtook you, setting every nerve in your body on fire. You managed his name through the slur of moans, clenching around his fingers as you came. He only tapered his speed when the intensity began to die down. He removed his mouth first, then slowly pulled his fingers from you. His eyes flickered towards your face, lust clouding his eyes as he did so.

He slowly moved upwards, placing a few kisses over your collarbones and up onto your neck. You finally found the strength to open your eyes and look to him. He caught your gaze and gave you a dopey smile, eyelids heavy and your arousal glistening on his lips. “That’s my beautiful girl,” he hummed, wiping his chin with the back of his hand before leaning in for a kiss. “I’m so proud of you.” He whispered as he parted from you. He placed another kiss on your lips, sweet and full of emotion. The anxiety that had been plaguing you on and off was now gone, replaced solely by a desire for him that you’d never felt for another person before. “Did that feel good?”

“So good, Sammy.” You said, your lips still ghosting over his. You could feel his erection straining against his sweatpants, pressing into your leg.

“My name sounds so good when you say it like that.” He sighed, one hand roaming your exposed torso. His touch was light, tickling the sensitive skin over your rib cage as he did so.

“Thank you,” you whispered, resting your cheek against his, basking in the affection.

“Don’t have to thank me, princess.” He replied. “If anything, I should be thanking you.” You let out a small laugh at his words, finding his gratefulness charming. You reached up and cupped his cheek in your hand, lifting your head to pull him into another kiss. He was hesitant to let you go when you pulled away.

“Do you wanna…?” You trailed off, feeling a bit too embarrassed to finish the sentence.

“Do you?” He asked.

“Yeah,” you breathed, never more sure of yourself in your whole life. He gave you a smile, making a move to stand. He undid the drawstring on his pants, then pulled them down, ridding himself of them and leaving himself clad in only his boxers. You couldn’t help but stare at him, eyes wandering but eventually settling on the bulge barely contained by the fabric. He noticed your stare, a smirk making its way back onto his lips.

“Condoms?” He asked, catching your attention. Your eyes widened, realizing that you didn’t have any.

“Oh, I uh- I didn’t really expect… I don’t..”

“That’s okay,” he chuckled. “I have some in my room. I can go get them.” You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy, realizing that he’d been keeping them for a reason. You pushed the thought away, not wanting to focus on the idea of him being with someone else. He was here with you, and that’s what mattered.

“I, uh, I am on birth control, if you’re clean.” You squeaked, slightly embarrassed at the statement.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” He said, his tone firm.

“Yeah, I am.” You assured him. “Like I said, as long as you’re clean.” You repeated the earlier comment, just wanting to be sure.

“I am,” he promised. “It’s been a long time since… yeah.” He let out a small laugh. You couldn’t help but feel better knowing he hadn’t been sleeping around, either.

“Then yeah, I’m okay with it.” He gave a nod, making a move to take off his boxers. You watched in admiration, excited to finally see him the same as he was seeing you. He kicked the fabric with the rest of the growing pile of clothes. He stepped back towards the bed, noticing your eyes never leaving him. “You’re… very pretty.” You whispered, unable to find any better words to describe him.

“I think you’re very pretty, too.” He smiled, nestling back between your legs as he grabbed a pillow from beside you. “Lift your hips up, princess.” You did as he said and he slipped the cushion underneath you. “Should make it a bit more comfortable.”

He guided your legs up slightly, not enough to bend you in an awkward position, but enough to make it easier for both of you. “Will it hurt?” You finally blurted out, the question begging to be spoken all night.

“May be a bit uncomfortable at first, but I’m gonna try my best to make sure it doesn’t.” He said, catching your gaze. “We can take it as slow as you want. If you want me to stop, just tell me.”

“Okay.” You replied, voice quiet. You were nervous, but very aware that you were in good hands. It was his only intention to make sure you enjoyed yourself. You watched as he spit on his hand, rubbing himself for a moment.

“You okay?” He asked, wanting to be sure.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t be scared to talk to me, baby.” He reminded. You nodded, eyes only focused on his hand that was he was stroking himself with. He moved a bit closer, letting the tip of his dick rest against your entrance. He let you get used to the feeling before going any further. “You tell me when you’re ready.”

“I am.” You weren’t lying; the anxiety and nervousness was fully expected, but you were more than ready to have sex with him. You were sure of that before you’d even spoken with him, and it was only solidified further when you saw how accommodating he was being with you. He waited for any hesitation, but when none was given, he slowly pushed his hips forward.

You closed your eyes, trying your best to stay relaxed. He only pushed in a few inches, wanting you to adjust before continuing. “That okay?” He asked. You nodded, reaching out for his hand. He took his own from your leg and accepted the offer, intertwining his fingers with yours. He thrusted forward a bit more, studying your expression for a hint of discomfort. When he bottomed out, you let out a small sigh of relief.

“Not as bad as I thought it would be.” You noted. He laughed quietly, happy you thought so.

“You’re doing so good.” He whispered. “You feel so good.” His words sent a jolt of arousal through you, enjoying the praise more than you imagined you would. He slowly built up a pace, moving his hips with caution. Once you’d fully realized the sensation was less than uncomfortable, you relaxed against him. After a few more moments, you began to enjoy the feeling.

“You can go faster,” you sighed, a ghost of a moan in your words. He was hesitant to do so, but he gradually sped his thrusts, admiring your expression. When he clued in to the fact you were enjoying yourself, he couldn’t help but let a groan escape his lips. Your eyes snapped to his face, thinking that was the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard. His pleasure ridden expression was enough to induce an orgasm on its own, you deducted.

He reached his hand between your legs, letting his thumb find your clit again. He continued his pace, now applying light pressure onto the sensitive bundle of nerves as he circled his thumb. The combined sensations caused a moan from you. Your fingers tightened against his hand, a silent expression of pleasure. “Fuck, Sam.” You sighed, letting your head fall back onto the pillows.

“Look so pretty like this, baby.” He mumbled, trying to keep the speed of his hips and his hand the same. The pet names were unexpected, but you loved hearing them come from his mouth, especially when they sounded like that. “Wish I could have you like this forever.” He sighed, losing himself to the feeling a bit. It didn’t take long for another knot to form in your belly. With the consistency of his movements, it was much easier to get there than it was the first time. Sam noticed the slight change in your demeanour, the increase in the noises you were making. He focused on your face, wanting to watch you this time, feeling a bit cheated out of the moment the first time. “You think you can cum again, princess?” He asked, eyes burning into you.

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered, looking up at him. “Feels so good, Sammy.”

“Come on, baby.” He sounded as if he were begging you. “Doing so good for me.” With his encouragement, you felt your orgasm creep up again. You tried your best to keep your eyes on him, wanting to appreciate him as much as possible. He sped his thumb slightly, causing your breath to catch in your throat. His gaze never wavered, an unspoken plea for you to let go. It only took a moment before you came the second time. Your head fell back again, eyes screwed shut and mouth permanently agape. His jaw was clenched, holding himself back from his own release at the sound of you crying his name. “That’s it,” he moaned, wishing he could engrave the picture in his mind forever. As much as he wanted to cum, too, he was hoping to get one more out of you before the night came to an end.

The pressure from his thumb lightened, but his thrusts sped. You didn’t have time to recover, unlike the first time. The sensitivity was overtaken by the pleasure of him inside you, making it the only thing you could focus on. You looked back at him, realizing your mistake as soon as you did. He was still staring at you, eyes now a bit feral. The muscles in his jaw were taut, and he was quite unfamiliar to you, now. Although different, not in a bad way. It was intense, but far from menacing. You were captivated in the details of his stare, finding yourself unable to look away. He was breathtaking, and you couldn’t believe you were lucky enough to have him in such a way. You couldn’t believe that you had the power to drive him to such a feeling.

“You can give me one more, baby, I know you can.” His motivation was clouded with a bit of dominance, giving you the impression that he wouldn’t be pleased with himself if he couldn’t give you another orgasm.

“I don’t know, Sammy.” You groaned, unsure of yourself but still fully immersed in the feeling of him inside you.

“You can, princess. You can do it.” His chest was heaving with every breath, partially due to his movement, but more to do with desire. There was a glisten of sweat on his forehead, illuminated by the dim light flooding through the window. You didn’t think you’d be able to cum for the first time, let alone a second, or a third. The only anxiety you had left in your body was one fearing you’d leave him disappointed. Rationally, you knew he’d be content with whatever happened, but the louder part of your brain craved to give him exactly what he wanted. It wasn’t out of fear, but solely because you wanted to. From the minute he’d given you that first stupid smile all those months ago, you knew you wanted to be exactly where you were at that moment, and you’d be damned if you didn’t give it your all.

His patience and gentleness with you the whole night was endearing, but for you, the novelty of it being your first time had worn off, and the months of sexual tension was reaching its peak. You were both completely starved for each other in the best way possible, neither of you wanting to disappoint. Sam kept his pace steady, his thumb pressing into your clit again. To both of you, the idea of another orgasm not being reached was out of the question. “I can, but you have to cum with me.” You begged.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he grunted, letting out a long exhale. He knew that wouldn’t be an issue, he’d been holding himself back from the minute you’d started fucking. He rationed with himself as another string of moans left your lips, forcing himself to believe that waiting would be far more satisfactory than finishing before you. “Cum for me, angel.” The new term of endearment was unlike the others; this one hit you violently, such a graceful term for such a filthy display. You let out a cry of pleasure, your third climax hitting you without warning. It washed over you with necessity, as if you needed it to survive. He finally let go of your hand, fingers finding your hips to hold you on him as he came, too.

The room echoed with sounds of pleasure and obscene words, the essence of the moment settling into the walls and solidifying its place. The memory would never leave, and you wouldn’t want it any other way. He let out a sigh, finally losing his composure and resting gently atop of you. He placed tender kisses along your collarbones, small gestures of affection and appreciation to let you know he still meant everything he said to you. After you both came back to reality, he slowly withdrew from you. He tried to keep the mess minimal as he did so, wanting to keep the cleanup simple so he had more time to hold you before the night was through. “You should go pee, don’t want you to get a UTI.” He mumbled. You managed a nod, sleep calling to you like never before. Your mind and body were beyond exhausted, unable to keep up with the whirlwind of events.

He helped you up and to the bathroom, leaving you to your business. You cleaned yourself up and removed what was left of your makeup before returning to him. He gave you a dopey smile and a kiss on the head before going to do the same. You took a seat on the bed, mind still buzzing with excitement at the thought of what happened. When he came back out, he pulled his boxers back on and picked up his t-shirt from the ground. He handed it to you, almost nervous of rejection. You took the piece of clothing and slipped it over your head, more than happy to be wearing his clothes. “Did… did you maybe want to stay with me tonight?” You asked, nervous he’d say no. He took a seat beside you, pulling you into his arms and laying you both down on the mattress.

“Was hoping you’d ask.” He mumbled, pulling your back to his chest. He nuzzled his head into your neck, not caring about the tickle of your hair on his face.

“Thank you,” you finally said after a few long moments of silence.

“What are you thanking me for?”

“I don’t know,” you laughed. “That was… fantastic. You were fantastic.”

“I’m just happy you had a good time. That’s all I wanted.” He hummed, hand snaking under your shirt to rest on your stomach.

“I really did. I.. uh, wanted to do that for a while.” You said, rolling your eyes at your own awkwardness.

“Oh, yeah, me too.” He said, as if it were obvious. “All year I felt like I was in middle school again, crushing on the prettiest girl who didn’t know I existed.”

“I knew you existed.” You whispered, calmed at the knowledge you’d both been feeling the same way. “I thought the same about you.”

“Seems like we were both a bit dumb, then, Picasso.” You could hear his smile in his words.

“Guess so, piano man.” You both fell into a silence again, but like all the other ones, it was nothing short of comfortable. You felt yourself melt into his touch, sleep begging you to close your eyes.

“You’re okay, though? You’re not sore, or anything? You’d tell me if you were, right?”

“Yeah, I am, Sammy. Promise.” You reassured him. He’d done an excellent job at taking care of you and ensuring you were comfortable. It was the best possible scenario you could have imagined for your first time.

“That’s good, I just want to make sure.” He whispered. You settled into the mattress, prepared to go to bed. “So, if we’re talking experience wise, like a three star review?” He broke the quiet once more, causing both of you to fall into a fit of laughter.

“Mmm, I was thinking more of a five star, actually.” You pretended to ponder.

“Don’t stroke my ego, Picasso.” He dismissed the compliment.

“Maybe we’ll have to try it again sometime, then I can give a proper review.” You moved your hand under your shirt, too, resting it on top of his. He laced your fingers together, more than accepting of the contact.

“I think that would be quite alright.” He placed a kiss to your neck, just below your ear. It sent a shiver down your spine. “So it was good enough to make you want to do it again,” he noted. “I’ll have to put that one on my resume.” You laughed, shaking your head at his antics.

“Goodnight, piano man.” You said, finality in your voice. He propped himself up, trying his best to lean over you for another kiss. You turned your head back to meet his lips, much more confident in the action, now.

“Goodnight, Picasso.” He settled back in behind you, closing his eyes, too. “I can’t wait to take you to breakfast in the morning.” No more words were exchanged, but you both fell into a slumber with a permanent smile stuck on your lips.

#greta van fleet #danny gvf #sam gvf #gvf #danny wagner #jake gvf #jake kiszka #josh gvf #sam kiszka #gvf fic #josh kiszka #greta van fleet smut #greta van fleet fluff #greta van fleet imagine #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fanfic #sam kiszka smut #sam kiszka fic #gvf imagine #gvf smut #gvf x reader #sammy gvf #gvf fanfiction #sam kiszka x reader #fic #my fic #my writing #builtbybrokenbells #builtbybrokenbells fic

[carlyraejepsans]

You've mentioned multiple times now Sans canonically switching fonts if I'm not mistaken? What/when are the instances of those?

To be precise, he switches from comic sans to the standard Determined font, so you could also technically call it "turning off his typeface".

there's four notable examples that come to mind

When we first meet him:

he even spaces the letters apart sightly, which implies he's talking slowly and deliberately. this fits two explanations, one doylistic: we don't know him yet, nor do we know the connection between skeletons and fonts so suddenly seeing dialogue in comic sans would break the tension in the scene; and one watsonian: he's trying to scare the crap out of you, so he uses the most terrifying voice he can make.

At the MTT Resort date

Yup. This one pretty much cements the interpretation that he switches fonts to sound scarier. He even does the creepy "music cuts out, speaks slowly and spaces the letters apart for maximum effect" he did in Snowdin Forest. But moving on,

In the Final Hallway

While it's definitely meant to mirror our first meeting, what with the foreground elements hiding his appearance/disappearance, our being backlit throughout the whole scene, and the complete lack of music... there's no way that the player doesn't recognize his silhouette, and knowing the whole speaking in fonts shtick, seeing comic sans shouldn't break the scene anymore.

he's not spacing the letters apart like the previous occasions and he's speaking at normal speed, so I'd rule out that he's trying to sound scary, but he still drops his font in favor of the standard one, right until the moment his actual judgement begins (ie when he checks your EXP and LV). while you could still make a compelling doylistic argument re: comic sans just looks stupid in this scene, i think the font switch makes perfect sense if you read it as sans just being solemn for once. his judgement will inevitably get lighter-hearted*, and he'll go back to his font and soudfont, but it really feels like he wants to open the matter setting a serious tone. this is the end now. enough messing around.

*speaking of the tone of the judgement getting lighter. know what font he uses when it doesn't?

....yeah.

The Lost Soul fight

now THIS. this is an interesting one. because not only does it happen in battle, but there are three VERY big differences when compared to the occasions i listed above:

he's not capitalizing his sentences

he's not silent when he speaks. on the contrary, he's actually using a different soundfont: the standart one you hear with the narrator and secondary NPCs.

his text moves like a wave, much in the same way as napstablook, the heavily depressed ghost who's constantly crying, and the amalgamates (all bar endogeny, who doesn't speak at all) who are... well. you can assume what emotional state they are in.**

honestly I could talk about this detail alone for HOURS, especially when you consider that as soon as his memories are returned, he immediately goes back to his usual font AND soundfont

our friends during the lost souls fight are supposed to be at their lowest, confronting their character flaws and their demons. and considering the nature of what sans says, well... i think it's fair to assume he's either straight up crying or in otherwise extreme emotional distress.

aaaaand that's it! that's all the occasions that come to mind. from what we're shown, we can gather that sans switches off his font for occasions where the mood is far from light, either because it's serious, solemm, scary, or just plain sad.

there's a couple notable occasions that fit these criteria but still use comic sans, such as the "do you wanna have a bad time", threat the "heya. you've been busy, uh?" monologue before the genocide fight, and the genocide fight itself, though all of them can be explained with the fact that the pacing of the dialogue was far too fast for it to be effective.

but yeah. the lost soul segment is the one that makes me tear my hair out. hope this answered your question!

#**..... ALRIGHT ALRIGHT AARON DOES IT TOO. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW??? #and the waterfall monsters. but those are water based monsters the context is different. they clearly don't count #actually. i changed my mind. aaron is just constantly flexing through the tears #THERE #undertale #sans #entry log #answered asks #metanalysis

[chaoticbindery]

Here's Looking at You Kid

By Messermoon(@sophsicle )

"Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world..."

George wanders into a bar. Nothing is ever the same.

Thanks to Soph for accepting a copy of this story. Apologies for the delay and ups being trash 💀

Thanks to @upthehillart for approving my use of their art for this fic.

Special thanks to the @renegadepublishing server for all your support, advice, and encouragement during the making of these books.

To ups, I hope you never feel the gentle touch of a woman, that your child never hugs you again, and that every time you enter a room, you forget the reason you are there.

Below, I will discuss the process, which will include a lot of spoilers. (But also more pics 😈)

When I heard this story was set in the same universe as choices, I lost my shit a little and read it. Slowly, however, this story began to mean a lot more to me than I could put into words. George's grief over the lost of his soul mate, the struggle to find himself, and Blaise's love, passion, kindness, and confidence in himself resonated to me in such a way that I knew I needed to hold it in my greedy little hands.

I started to think about what I wanted to do and how I wanted to bind this story. I struggle a lot from picking the font for the body text to picking the chapter titles. I finally, after fucking around with canva for more time than I'm willing to admit , I was able to come up with these:

(If you would like the files for anything I used, please dm me, and I will send them to you! I will eventually set up a google drive)

In the story, there is this moment where Blaise casts a spell that creates a constellation, of which George got the inspiration to make a mood ring that created a little sky, and depending on your mood the sky changes to reflect how you feel. He gives it to Blaise, and they have a picnic under the sky, indoors, later at Blaise's party they have such a cute moment at night and so I wanted to implant the sky in some way.

I also wanted to use constellations in this bind. I didn't know how or where. I just knew I needed them in my life. So while i mop over my inability to impelent them, I took a break. So one day, I was reading a book with these very cute corners, and then it hit me. (No, I didn't finish the book i was reading. I was busy stalking the internet, trying to find the perfect image)

After that, picking the page breaks was easy. I wanted something simple since I didn't want the typeset to look so busy that it took away from the most important element of the bind, aka the story. I added a few little things for me in Draco and Harry's 2 chapters because I'm weak, and that's for soph to find all on her own 👀

I will put this here, tho.

Lastly, because Tumblr won't let me post more pictures, here are the endpapers I used for 2 of the 3 books.

As some of you may have notice, there are blues, pinks, and whites in this bind. It's a subtle yet very loud depiction of the Trans flag. It was very important to me to show that this story is of a Trans man that, as soph, puts it, saved himself.

I added all the chapter notes, trigger warnings, and more information about this bind on the typeset itself. Ultimately, to me, this is a form of archiving stories I think matter, and if for whatever reason, technology dies on us, this story will still live on.

The info that's only important to the binders 💀:

Materials list:

Bookcloth: Colibri in color Cornflower, this cloth has a silk like finish.

Htv: I used siser's htv easy weed vinyl with a bit of a pinkish undertone to it.

Endpapers: they are from paper tree nook in the uk

Endband: 2 mm 100% leather with blue viscous thread

Textblock: I used standard 20lbs cream color paper. I used toner to print. To sew the textblock, I use blue linen thread and remie bands gifted to me by my friend duranbinding. I painted the edges using golden acrylic paint, and the charm and ribbon are both from Michael's

Typeset:

(I will edit in this bit later since I made so many changes its hard to recall them all)

#hlayk #regulus black #jegulus #draco malfoy #harry potter #george weasley #blaise zabini #choices messermoon #fanbinding #fandom #bookbinding #my first post #blaise zabini x george weasley #draco x harry #colibri #ups sleep with an eye open

[selkies-world]

Sign the petition to demand the creation of a new international law requiring fast-fashion garments to come with a statement of the human cost and environmental harm caused by their creation.

We all know fast fashion is bad for the planet - slave labor, environmental waste, air and water pollution, and unsustainable practices are just a few of the ways they impact our planet, our health and our lives. To date, the fast fashion industry is the 2nd largest consumer of water and is single-handedly responsible for 10% of global carbon emissions (that's more than all international flights and maritime shipping across a year combined). Even the simple act of washing these clothes releases 500,000 tons of microfibers into the ocean each year - that's equal to 50,000 plastic bottles. Fast-fashion is the 3rd leading cause of the climate crises we face, yet is rarely addressed.

Knowing these stats is one thing, and understanding them is important. Being aware of them is somewhat informative. But as long as we keep turning a blind eye to the issue, the stats are only going to get worse, and nothing will change for the better. Ignoring the issue or brushing it under the rug won't help anything. So what if we could see the real-world damage done by each of the garments we buy?

In the same way that cigarette packets have shown the harm their products do to our bodies ("SMOKING KILLS", lung cancer visualizations, etc.), what if fast fashion manufacturers & retailers had to show the harm their products do to our planet?

[Image ID: A type-writer font has been used on a brown craft paper background. The text reads: "32 animals lost their habitat to the field where my crops were planted - 2 of those animals are already endangered species. 2,700 litres of water were used in my production. I was made in a sweatshop enslaving men and women aged 16 - 45, and children aged 6 - 14. I contain 0.22kg of carbon dioxide dye." End ID.]

This is a mock-up of a label / statement for a single T-shirt, with researched statistics and educated estimates for the information I couldn't find a calculated answer for.

Now imagine labels / statements like this for every single piece of clothing: how many toxic chemicals are in those new jeans? How many litres of water did that shirt take to make? How many animals were skinned to make those cute fur-trimmed boots? How many children made that jumper? How many people were forcibly removed from their homes, so production companies could plant crops to grow the materials used in clothes manufacturing? How many families were evicted for no reason other than corporate greed? How many trees were cut down? How many animals were displaced or killed?

Would you really want to buy those items of clothing if the answers to those questions were staring you in the face?

If this information was stated in clear, accessible ways on both the website and the ticket on the actual garment, this would dramatically reduce the number of people buying fast fashion items. It would also reduce the profits being made by fast fashion companies, and could lead to many of them being forced to choose between changing and becoming sustainable, eco-froendly and ethical brands, or shutting down due to being boycotted.

Who would really want to knowingly buy things that are made by slaves, or which cost a family their home, or which contributed to deforestation? Who would continue to buy fast fashion items knowing this is the damage caused by them, when sustainable alternatives are an option?

Whether it's second-hand fashion at affordable prices, or investing more money in sustainable products which were made with high ethical standards and which cost more money due to the fact their price accounts for the time it took a person to make that item... we can say for certain that sustainable shopping is going to become much more popular if people know how important that change is. Sustainable items last much longer than fast-fashion items, which by design are created to self-destruct, as they are made to be worn a few times and then discarded in order to be replaced by the next trend's items - and as trends speed up, these items become weaker and weaker. This then leads to people spending more money in order to keep up with the newest trends, and to keep replacing clothes they throw out after a few washes.

In contrast, buying sustainable items which are designed to last years means people won't have to spend money on new clothes every few weeks, which means they'll ultimately save money in the long term and actually be able to afford those pricier items which will last much, much longer.

Now, despite the amount of harm the fast-fashion industry causes to people and the environment, the last thing we should be doing is getting angry at those who continue to buy them. Being the target of anger doesn't make large populations change their behaviour - even a cursory look through history books will tell us that much. Neither does being the target of resentment or blame.

But guilt? Shame? Those are two of the most powerful emotions to magnify when you want change to happen in waves.

And frankly, if people feel ashamed of buying something, or if buying something makes them feel guilty... they're going to stop buying it.

Those aren't the only emotions that should be felt, though. Because only feeling guilt and shame leads to feeling hopeless, scared, anxious and depressed. And we don't want that. No matter how bad things get... we don't want that.

The only other emotions to provoke are hope and pride.

If there's no hope for the future, how can anyone be expected to imagine a better one?

You wouldn't think it, what with all the climate crises and disasters we experience around the world and the total lack of commitment made by billionaires, multimillion-dollar companies and corporations and politicians.

But it's true. Scientists in Scotland have discovered bacteria which eat plastic and speed up the decomposition of it. ‘Ecocide’ is now punishable by law. Some countries within the EU are already close to meeting their 2030 goals years ahead of schedule! Thanks to scientists and small, individual changes made on a massive scale by ordinary people who are making small adjustments to our everyday choices, we can and are healing most of the ozone layer before 2050. That is something we should all feel incredibly proud of.

So imagine how much we could speed that process up if more people made those changes. Imagine how much sooner we could heal our planet if billions of people made those changes, rather than millions. Imagine how much sooner we could be seeing the effects of a healthier planet if fast fashion companies were forced to choose between going green and transparent, or closing altogether due to a lack of interest from consumers. Imagine the changes we could create if corporations made massive changes in a short amount of time, in order to save their own profits.

Imagine more labels like this, sitting alongside each other on every single piece of fast fashion clothing. A statement like this beneath every item of clothing on fast fashion websites, which transparently states the harm done.

If every single fast-fashion company and store had to display this on their clothing, on their racks, on their websites, and if there were legal punishments for those who tried to evade or lie... fashion would turn a lot greener very quickly. We'd start seeing more and more labels with "I'm made from 6 plastic bottles! I used to be a newspaper! I had 0 pesticides used on me in my production! I only contain natural dye made from berries, beans and sustainably grown flowers. I was made from apple skins and corn! The people who made me get to go home to their families every night, have days off and the adults made £150.35 each in 1 week! The animal who made the wool for me is free-range and well-cared for! I came from a small family farm, and was created with a closed-loop water system!”

That'd be a much better civilisation to shop in, don't you agree?

That is hope for the future.

That is motivation, which can fuel ordinary people to do extraordinary things and create changes they thought were impossible.

If you want to be a part of creating this change, sign the Change.org petition which demands the the creation and implementation of an international law which will require all fast-fashion products to be displayed with a statement which states the harm done to people and the planet by that garment being made & shipped.

#fast fashion #fashion #climate crisis #climate change #climate action #climate catastrophe #environmentalism #environment #environmetalists #enviromental #sustainability #sustainable #economy #ecofriendly #ecosystem #europe #earth #ecommerce #society #socialist #sociology #social justice #social media #slave labor #children #child labor #children's rights #environmental justice #petition #petitions

[shiorinotshiori]

You looked so good in green (Eddie Munson x F!Reader)

Eddie can't help but reminisce the moments you were his. You were only a Sophomore when you met Eddie, you were a freak just like him. But during Junior year, you figured that you wanted a change. Senior year eventually came and that change you had hoped to not affect your relationship, comes back at you when Eddie's insecurities got the best of him.

A fic inspired by the song "Green" by Cavetown

Part 2: Finally Home Req Ending: YCSMNNLYDB

Warnings: ANGST, slight bullying, drugs, mentions of making out???SADFGAHDDD Notes: Bold for lyrics of the song (not in order) Italics for memories / flashbacks Normal font for the present time ' ' means it is the characters' inside thoughts Word count: 5.7k

Things to remember: Eddie's only a year older than reader btwww. I have so many wip fics but this is actually the first one I finished (also my first fic post) shdbhasj sorry for wrong grammars/spellings and if it's a bit confusing and boring but let me know what I can do better!

I don't give permission to repost or translate my work please have mercy

A big fish swims past your rod You can't catch it, it's far too fast It’s been months, months full of regret and guilt for Eddie Munson. It’s been months since he decided to end things with you, because of some stupid shit your supposedly ‘friends’ told him. Not a day goes by that Eddie didn’t think of how you were before you became this big fish he now couldn’t catch. Your relationship was perfect, at least that’s how Eddie wanted to see it until his insecurities got the best of him. He had always known that you deserved better and frankly, up until now, he has no idea how he landed a chance with you to begin with. There had been a lot of times that he couldn’t help but to reminisce some of his favorite moments with you- there were a lot, to be honest. But one of his favorites were the time he first officially met you. It was the day his life begun.

Take care of my shirt Warm and red

It was a normal day in Hawkins, by normal, that meant everything sucks for a loser like (Y/N)- especially when you’re a new student. You have no friends, no place you belong to; unless you’re one of the girls that the popular jocks would automatically try to sleep with. It was Sophomore year when you had no idea how to dress or at least fit in anyone’s standard. You were alone, trying to see among the crowd in the canteen who’s most likely to let you sit with them but, you didn’t think someone will do that for a girl like you. In Hawkins High, it was up to you to decide your social status- if you choose to hang out with the nerds, you’ll be a freak. Join cheerleading? Oh, it’s for sure that they’ll only tolerate their own kind.

“Being new sucks.” You whispered to yourself, standing in the middle of the cafeteria after getting the food provided by the school. You looked like a lost child, wondering where to go while your parents’ not around. Just as you were about to take a step, a body collided with yours. Next thing you knew, your clothes were full with whatever the food was that they served. “Watch where you’re going, freak!” A guy with blonde hair told you, eyeing you up and down. As he walked away, you immediately felt like crying. It’s always been like this for you, even before moving to Hawkins. You had hoped that maybe, just maybe, people were a little bit nicer than where you used to go. But boy, you were so wrong.

You realized that the food’s gonna probably stain your clothes, so instead of going to class- you decided it was better to skip. Who would want to walk in class like that? Not you. Deciding to just throw the food on your tray, you ran towards the exit. You ran and ran and ran until you find yourself lost in the woods.

Thankfully, you did find a bench. Unfortunately, someone was sitting on the desk. A guy with brown curly hair, leather jacket, and somewhat a… club shirt? It says Hellfire club. “You ‘kay?” only then you realized you were kind of staring at him as he smoked. Lost in thoughts. “Uhm… yeah yeah. Just got a little lost.” You forced yourself to let out a chuckle but, you’re still a little bit upset about your shirt. “Well… your shirt’s not.”

“Wow… thanks, I didn’t notice.” You rolled your eyes at the guy, ‘as if I didn’t know’ you continue to stare at the ground- thinking how great it was that you just ran into another student who’ll probably make fun of you too. Unbeknownst to you, the guy who rudely commented on your shirt, started taking off his own. “Here, you look like you need a new one.” Slightly looking up, you saw the guy’s hand offering you the shirt he was just wearing- “Wait! Are you naked right now? Holy shit.” You refused to fully look up, thinking that he’s maybe… topless. You didn’t want to be caught staring again.

“What? No! I have an extra one in our club room. I’ll just go get that, I have my jacket anyway.”

“Then why just not hand me that one? You’re really gonna walk naked in school?!”

“Like I said- I have my jacket, sweetheart. Also, I figured you didn’t want to walk around looking like… that. I’m used to the weird stares, a’ight? Just take it.”

Finally looking up, you saw that he pulled his jacket’s zipper all the way up to cover himself. ‘Oh but how am I gonna get dres-‘ your thoughts were soon interrupted. “Look, if you’re worried about me peeking while you change- I’ll just go ahead and walk away. You’ll have this spot all to yourrrself. No one ever comes out here, you’re safe.” He began to walk but then you remembered you haven’t even thanked him yet. “Wait! Uhm… Thank you-?”

“It’s Eddie… Munson. And noooo problem.” It was the first time, the first time you had seen him smile. Yep, he’s kinda attractive, you couldn’t deny that to yourself plus he’s nice. Before you could even reply, you were alone in the woods.

Tomorrow came and you clutched the newly washed club shirt as you walk into the cafeteria once again. Looking for a mop of brown hair- ‘Oh, there he is.’ You approached what seemed like the Hellfire club, you were not that stupid to not notice they were all wearing the same shirt. Eddie was busy making some kind of dramatic narration when he got cut off. “Hey uh… Eddie?”

Slightly getting annoyed because someone interrupted his usual act, he looked up to see the same girl from yesterday. And just like that, his annoyance was gone. “Oh, hey. What’s up?”

“Uhm, sorry did I interrupt you? Sorry, I just wanted to give you your shirt back.” Now feeling the stares of the other members, you started to feel small. ‘Shit.’

“No, Nope. No need. You can have that, because as you can see, sweetheart- I’m already wearing the same one. You can uh… also, sit with us if you’d like.” At this point, Eddie was really pushing his chances there. It wasn’t like he only noticed you yesterday, he had been eyeing you since school started again- and he also noticed you had no friends, yet (sounds so awful but it was true). A lot of times he did want to offer you to sit with them, it’s just that he had never asked a girl to hangout with them. Having this thought that even though you were alone, most of the time- he figured that maybe you’d still not want to settle with nerds like them. But this was the chance, he couldn’t just let go of it. “Really? O-okay. I’m (Y/N), by the way.” And just like that you finally had a place you belonged to. Especially when Eddie, Gareth, Jeff, as well as the other members of the club never made you feel the opposite. At first, you had no clue what’s the club about- hell, you didn’t even know Dungeons and Dragons existed before meeting them. But as time flies, you finally learned how to play the complicated game and you got yourself a wonderful group of friends. It was also that day that you and Eddie started getting closer and closer until you became his favorite player.

He was so glad that it was his shirt that you wore the day someone spilled their food on you. He was glad that the opportunity to talk to you presented itself to him. He was glad that you accepted his offer. He was glad he got closer to you. He was glad the day came when you became his.

I see your eyes in the flowers I'll pick a bunch for your room Green and blue to match your pictures

Another one of his favorite memory was when he used to give you a bunch of flowers that came from another resident in the trailer park. Up until now the old lady had no idea that Eddie’s been ‘borrowing’ her flowers before. Poor lady was confused to wake up to her dear flowers not as many as before. Eddie surely missed picking them in the middle of the night, when he’s sure that his neighbor’s not awake.

It’s safe to say that Eddie’s rebellious but, he took that up to the next level whenever he has to ‘borrow’ a sweet old lady’s flowers in the trailer park- just so he could give them to you. Not that he would let you know where he picked them.

You were focused studying your lesson when you heard light taps in your window. ‘Must be Eddie’ you thought, it became quite the routine for him to sneak in your room at night- even though your parents were well aware of your relationship with the guy. He once told you that it just felt right sneaking in, living up to his ‘bad boy’ name. You went and let him in thru your window, you saw the man struggling to step in since it was obvious he’s trying to hide something from you- holding whatever it is behind his back.

“Good evening, fair maiden. I, Eddie the Banished, brought you- a gift.” As he said that, he proceeds to give you a bunch of, what it seems like hand-picked flowers. Your heart warmed at the thought, Eddie’s been always sweet but, no matter how many times he did something to make you feel giddy- it will ALWAYS make you feel giddy. “Why thank you, kind sir. To what do I owe this… wonderful gift?” slowly taking the flowers from Eddie who’s bowing with his arm extended and holding the flowers. He’s just dramatic like that, which you love so much.

“Nothing, just wanted to give you something that reminds me of you. You know- green and blue flowers to uhm… match your pictures in your room. I know you’ve always loved trees and the ocean.” There it was, that cute smile you’ll never get tired of. Carefully placing the flowers in an empty vase, you made your way towards Eddie to give him a gift in return. A sweet kiss from a fair maiden.

You lifted a hand and placed them against Eddie’s cheek, leaned in and kissed his lips. It was a quick and tender kiss, just to let your man know how much you appreciate the little things he does. “I love you. You know that, right?”

“Well… I think evidence is lacking, princess. I need more of that kiss.” Let’s just say that you couldn’t continue studying after what Eddie said.

I miss your perfect teeth I was too blunt

He couldn’t help but remember the sweet silly little moments, or that time you told him that his teeth looked cute.

“I’m so jealous of your teeth Eddieeeeee.” That was the first thing you said to him after having a full-blown make out session. You were in his bed, sitting on his lap while having your nail pressed against his tooth. You and Eddie had just finished smoking joint when you both felt like you were not close enough to each other, thus, starting a battle with your tongues.

“Whaaaat? What do you mean, princess? You have the most perfect teeth I’ve seen, trust me.”

“No way Eds, I doubt that. Yours are- uhm… cuter.” You giggled, ‘cuter teeth? Really (Y/N)?’ you thought. Imagine someone telling you that your teeth look cute, weird compliment but it was just like you and Eddie. You liked being weird together, it’s what makes your relationship a thousand times better than everyone else’s.

“Ah, so you’re calling me a liar (Y/N)? hmm?” Eddie tightened his hold on your waist. His back that was resting against the head of his bed, now gone as he started leaning towards you. Almost as if suggesting a war between your tongues to begin again. Which you gladly accepted.

Staring deep in his brown eyes before closing your own, you snaked your hands in his curls, slightly tugging on them while his tongue is moving with yours- yours and Eddie’s lips firmly pressed against each other. You knew Eddie liked it whenever you go rough on his hair during these moments. The first time you did, it shocked him. He was not aware before that he was into that kind of shit but, ever since then, he kept his hair long so you have more of his hair to play with.

You looked so good in green

But his most favorite memory, was the first time he got to you see you in your own element. Eddie will never forget how beautiful you looked that day, not that you were ever ugly, it’s just different seeing you shine for everyone. It was the moment he realized you’re the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

People were not used to seeing THE Eddie Munson in one of Hawkins’ balls in laundry basket games. But now there he was, he would’ve never even thought of going in to one if it wasn’t for you. He knew that this is the first game you’ll be participating in and seeing you so excited, he decided to go even after you told him he didn’t need to. You were well aware that Eddie and the rest of Hawkins High don’t get along so you didn’t want to push him to go, but you gotta admit- you wanted him there. You wanted him to see you shine in front of the whole school for the first time, especially after you started with a rocky reputation. You transferred to Hawkins High during Sophomore year, when you met Eddie. But then Junior year came, you thought you’ve had enough of being a loser. It didn’t have anything to do with the Hellfire club, you reassured Eddie that but- you wanted a change for yourself.

You wanted to stop being the weak (Y/N) everyone knew during Sophomore. You knew you had your talents and you also knew you were great at what you do; so, you decided to try out for cheerleading when you heard one of them quit. They were one member short, routines were hard to change when everyone else in the group already have their own positions. At first, the cheerleaders were hesitant to let you in, knowing you were once the girl they used to ‘bully’. But out of all who attended their tryout, you were the only one who can keep up with them- they were in desperate need.

Along with being accepted, your style also changed. You started minding how you looked, you started to care unlike before. Eddie’s thankful that that’s the only thing you changed about you, your personality never did. The way you treated Hellfire was the same. As much as your new ‘friends’ hated seeing one of their cheerleaders sit with the freaks, they couldn’t do anything to separate you with Eddie. Jocks also started to notice the change in your appearance, guys who used to ignore you, started hitting on you. Eddie hated seeing that but he was too proud of you, and your constant reassurance keeps his insecurities away for a while.

And now, he realized how much you deserved the recognition. The attention you grabbed, he hated and loved it at the same time. He truly believes that you were meant to be in this kind of crowd.

Eddie went in and sat in the front row, nevermind the disgusted stares he was getting- he was there to watch his girl. His big brown eyes sparkling while he watched you cheer your soul away.

The dance ended, oblivious of the fact that your boyfriend’s sitting among the crowd. He saw you jump around and celebrate with your teammates of how well it went. Your jump went into a halt, finally meeting Eddie’s eyes. You wasted no time as you ran towards him, him sitting up and welcoming you into his arms. It’s one of those cliché moments where a guy spins you around while embracing you. “You’re here!” you squealed on the crook of Eddie’s neck, still with your arms wrapped on the same spot. “Course I am. Can’t miss your important day now, can I?” You smiled, the thought of Eddie going to an event he hated with his whole heart, just to see you- makes you wanna marry the man right then and there. “Oh and one more thing-“ Eddie started, retreating from your embrace and gently lifting your chin with his hand; referring to Hawkins High’s cheer uniform, he said “You look so good in green, sweetheart.”

You looked so good in green I hope you're well And you look so good with him And I'm proud of you still

School was ending soon, Eddie couldn’t miss out the last moments you shine- though for him, you always did. The gym is packed, as usual, students are so hyped up for the same event he loathed. He waited until people filled the seats, spotting an unoccupied one in the darkest corner at the top. He doesn’t want you to know but, even after your break up- he still went in every single game just to see you again. Thankfully for Eddie, your vision was not the best; it’s not like you can wear glasses while cheering and you hated wearing contacts. You refuse to wear them since it makes you uncomfortable and your eyes were not THAT bad, it’s just that you won’t be able to see people from far distance especially those who sit in the darkest areas. ‘She still looks good in green’ Eddie told himself, as much as he hates the uniform and the people wearing it, you are an exemption. He always admired you, used to tell you how it fits you perfectly.

Another successful routine, like the other times before, you were jumping and celebrating again. Only this time, Eddie wasn’t prepared for the sight he was about to see. As you were enjoying the time, a guy approached you. One of the basketball players who’s gonna play later, went in and hugged you. Much to Eddie’s disappointment, you hugged the guy back as Eddie was forced to witness the whole exchange between his ex and a jock. Never ending thoughts are running inside his head, thoughts he didn’t want to come back right after regretting what he did. ‘You look so good with him’ he admitted to only himself, almost accepting the fact that maybe you now found someone better than him. He couldn’t help but think that this was his own doing, you’re now with someone because he let you go. No matter how many times he wishes, that he’s the one you should be hugging, he only has himself to blame.

He couldn’t take it anymore, he went to exit the gym, stopping once he reached the doors- looking back at you for the last time “I’m proud of you still.” He whispered to no one.

Little did Eddie know, you just hugged the guy back because, to be honest, he was the only tolerable player you knew. The guy’s been nice to you without any hidden intention, you became close with him but, it’s always gonna end there. You’re not gonna fall for someone, no. Not when Eddie’s still the one in your heart.

Mess in the kitchen I was so disappointed I guess I got to my head

After exiting the gym, he went straight to Hellfire’s club room. Entering, he sees the other members waiting for him, to start the session he had forgotten. But now, he’s really not in the mood to DM anymore, not after what he saw. He just couldn’t find the energy to continue with the day. “Hellfire’s cancelled today.” He didn’t even wait to hear the members complains. Right after cancelling on them, like it wasn’t a big deal, he walked out.

“Dude… Eddie never cancels Hellfire. Something must be so wrong.” Dustin’s voice was the only thing he heard before he was out of earshot. ‘Yes, a lot of things are so wrong right now. Including me.’ He went home feeling defeated. Eddie never got mad, he was not the type. Sure, he threw tantrums every once in a while, but this was different. Eddie’s not that kind of person to throw stuff everywhere, at least not until now. It was all a blur, now that Eddie’s sitting on the couch with his head hung low, he looks over the kitchen. Broken plates, shattered in pieces everywhere. This was a first for him, he’s not a very fortunate kid, he knows that breaking things will only cost him a fortune- but it was too late. The mess in the kitchen is a very big evidence of that.

I get it now that it's too late I never stopped feeling guilty

Upon seeing the mess, another memory came- only this time, it wasn’t that type of memory he wanted to remember. Eddie wanted to erase it in his mind, forget the day he made the biggest mistake of his life. He just wants to go back to the days you were his and he was yours. Guilt will always consume him. It had dawned to him how selfish he was. If only he could turn back time, but it was too late.

As much as Eddie hated being near a party, he had no choice but to go into this specific one because a jock offered him a great deal. A great deal? Yeah right. If he had known that time that this very same party will cost him his ‘perfect’ relationship, he would’ve just ignored the insane amount of money the popular kids had offered him for drugs. It was a big party which means they needed as many drugs as possible, almost everyone was present; except the outcasts and you. You were invited but you went straight home after cheering in the championship game, because it was your mother’s birthday and you couldn’t afford to miss out the party happening at your own house. After handing out drugs, Eddie went to turn away and drive to your house because he promised he would be there after his drug deal. Except, that didn’t happen. As Eddie was turning away, a voice called him. “Hey! Munson.” He looked at the source of the voice, only to notice it didn’t belong to an individual alone. He looked at the group, both eyebrows raised, wrinkling his own forehead.

“What?” Eddie questioned, wondering what the two girls accompanied with Jason Carver, want. He had no drugs left since they bought all of his remaining products. “You’re still with (Y/N), right?” one of the girls he didn’t even know, asked. Eddie just assumed that you might have hung out with the girl before, considering she was wearing Hawkin’s cheer uniform. “Yeah.” He simply replied, not wanting to start an issue if ever he had thrown a snarky remark. All he wanted to do was to drive away and finally spend his time with you, since you’ve been busy with practicing routines and all. “You know, I still have no idea why (Y/N)’s still with you. I mean yeah, we get it. She was a total freak like you before. But good for her for wanting a different crowd. She’s too pretty to be spending all of her time with you losers in your- Hellflyer club.” The girl said crossing her arms.

“It’s Hellfire.” Eddie scoffed, finally deciding that whatever this conversation was, was only wasting his time. He turned away AGAIN, walking towards his van. “Don’t you think she deserves better?” Now, that made Eddie stop. The phrase ‘she deserves better’ had always made him feel something; something he wasn’t supposed to be feeling when all you’ve shown him contradicts with the negative thoughts. But now, now that you were not around to tell him the opposite, he didn’t know what todo but to listen to their shitty comments about your relationship. “Come on, Eddie. Don’t tell us you’ve actually never thought of it? She joined cheerleading to get away from you freaks.” The other girl just spoke. Eddie knew that it wasn’t true, you didn’t join the cheerleaders just to avoid him and the Hellfire, he had known since the beginning of your relationship that it had always been your dream to become one- not to be one of the popular kids but to show people your amazing skills; thus, they accepted you in to their team (even after being labeled a freak), because they couldn’t deny that they needed your talent. He also knew how important him and his friends were to you but at that moment, he couldn’t stop the lingering thought that maybe you were tired of being an outcast.

The last straw was Jason, of course it was Jason. Eddie knew it was the end for him when the jock said the things he was dreading to hear, “You’re only gonna bring her down with you, Munson. She deserves a different life. A life that doesn’t involve a drug dealer who repeated Highschool.” He thought Jason’s done, but no. What he said next decided Eddie’s supposed to be own decision about you. “When we graduate, (Y/N)’s gonna have to move forward, and where does that leave you? You’re just always gonna hold her back. Think about it.” Right then and there, Eddie hated himself. He hated himself for letting people like Jason, add more fuel to the fire that Eddie’s been trying to distinguish for a long time. He hated himself because he knew that he’s emotionally dependent on you, you take away his usual nonchalant behavior with you- now, that you aren’t there to tell him you needed him no matter what, Eddie had finally let the fire consume him whole. With his back still turned from the group, Eddie got up to his van and went straight home. He knew he couldn’t face you after convincing himself that you were better off without him. It was the morning after, he barely got any sleep when he woke up to the sound of loud banging on the trailer’s door. “Edward! I swear to god, wake the fuck up and open this door right now!” hearing his girlfriend’s angry voice, he groaned- not because of annoyance, but because this was the day.

He opened the door where he was greeted with her frown. He hated seeing her frown but, today’s not the day he’ll be helping to turn it upside down. Or maybe it’s gonna be, when he finally lets her go. ‘Maybe she’ll be happier and better without me’, he thought.

“Where the fuck were you? You said you’d be there yesterday, I even told my mother.” Oh right, the party. He couldn’t say anything, still consumed with those stupid words from stupid people; so he just went to the couch and sat down. Your eyes followed him, “You kept me waiting, Eddie. You know how much I hate that.” That should’ve been his sign, his sign of how much you loved him to the point where you’d get upset over this. But instead, he thought the opposite.

Running both of his hands on his face, “(Y/N) I-“ he started, immediately stopping when he felt the lump in his throat. “You’re gonna explain yourself or what?” you didn’t wanna be rude but you were upset and you thought you deserved an explanation. Oblivious to the fact that your boyfriend’s almost as upset as you, maybe even more. But how could you notice? When he couldn’t even look at you.

“Eddie!” (Y/N)’s voice startled him. Only then he realized that he hasn’t uttered even a single sentence to her. “Eddie, please just say something. I’m sorry for yelling and being rude to you okay? I-“ maybe that’s the purest thing about her, even when it was other people’s fault for upsetting her, she just couldn’t hold anger. “I- I think we should break up.” Eddie cut her off. Letting out a humorless laugh, “What?” “We should break up. I’ve been thinking about it.” He tried his best to not let his voice crack. “Wha- why?! Is this about cheerleading? Because I can quit for you Eddie. It’s not a big de-“

“It’s not about that okay? It’s- it’s more than that”

“Then tell me Eddie! What is it? I’m su-sure we can do something about it.” Except, there was nothing you could do. He made up his mind and he’s too blinded to see how much you wanted this conversation to be over. How much you wanted to just crawl on his bed and cuddle with him.

“I just think I’m gonna hold you back, sweetheart. It’s obvious that you’re graduating, and I’m not. Jesus  Christ! I can’t even get a B on Mrs. Click’s class.”

“And so what? I told you Eddie, I’ll wait for you. I’ll stop for a year, help you pass your classes before going to college… so we coul leave this hell together. I already have everything planned I-“

“But that’s what’s wrong (Y/N)! I can’t have you delaying your studies just because I didn’t make an effort in mine.”

“Fuck Eddie! I don’t care! We had this plan- we’ll leave Hawkins, I go to college, you go build up your career with Corroded Coffin! See? It’s that easy.“ This conversation was stressing you the fuck out. You couldn’t stop the tears at this point. You thought you and Eddie had it settled down. You knew he didn’t want to continue with college, considering he got held back in Highschool. Eddie decided with his bandmates that they’ll try to build the Corroded Coffin’s reputation in another state, knowing that those five drunks will get them nowhere.

“After that, then what? I’m just a drug dealer with a band, (Y/N). I’m just a freak and you- you deserve better than me.”

“But-“ you managed to choke out but, after a word, you had a hard time finding your voice again by how much you were crying. “(Y/N)… I’ve already decided, sweetheart. I’m sorry…” Eddie stood up from where he was sitting, seeing you crying, he couldn’t help himself. You had both of your hands covering your face when you felt arms wrapped around you. “I’m sorry, mmkay? But you’ll be fine without me, baby.” He softly whispered. It felt so unfair, it was not up for him to decide if you deserved better. You were the only one who can tell that. But hearing Eddie so sure about it, you now knew that he was beyond saving from the insecurities that corrupted his mind. ‘Maybe if I showed him more, how much I loved him, he wouldn’t have thought about this.’

You retreated your arms and wrapped them around Eddie’s torso. “You’re so unfair, Eddie.” You were now full on sobbing on his shirt, not that Eddie minded. As long as he gets to hold onto you like this for the last time, there’s a whole closet full of his shirt he’d be willing to drench just so you could cry on it.

Both you and Eddie savoured the moment. Just feeling each other’s warmth like you used to. You sure as hell gonna miss moments like these with Eddie, minus of course, the breaking up part. Finally accepting the end of your amazing relationship, you managed to ask him a bold request, knowing that this will be the last chance you’d get. “Eddie?”

“Hmm?” He hummed a response, still with his arms wrapped around your neck. “Can I- can I at least get a goodbye kiss?” you felt him went stiff for a moment, thinking maybe you were pushing your chances to far considering that he literally just broke up with you. But your worries soon deflated when he agreed. “Of course.”

Unwrapping himself, little curls of his hair getting momentarily stuck in yours. You were now face to face with Eddie, also noticing how wet his puppy eyes were. Oh god, how much you’re gonna miss every single part of this man will hurt. They’d always been your favorite feature of his, and soon you won’t get to stare at them for as long as you want. Eddie gently raised both of his hands to touch each side of your cheeks, breathing heavily in doing so. ‘Make every moment count, Eddie. You won’t be kissing those lips anymore’- he had thought. You close your eyes waiting for his lips to just touch yours, and then it happened. Eddie leaned in and your lips touched, it was that kind of kiss that you knew you were saying goodbye to the love of your life. Both of you felt it, it was aggressive in a way that it was also gentle. The kiss was giving you false hopes, hoping that Eddie will realize you needed him as much as he needed you.

But then it ended. He retreated and rested his forehead against yours while his eyes were still closed, breathing in your scent so he could remember having you this close when it’s gone. When you’re gone. “I love you, Eddie. Fuck, I love you so much.” Upon hearing that, he took a deep breath and- “I love you too (Y/N) but… this is for you.”

He was already regretting his own decision but- they were probably right, he thought.

I hope you love yourself Your body and heart I hope you feel happy That's all I want Eddie knows he has no other choice but to think of those memories, he couldn't turn back time. He couldn't get back to you, knowing that your fate with him will still remain the same. Now, he just hopes and pray that you'll continue loving yourself even after he made you feel like it was somewhat your fault why he broke up with you. He hopes that whatever it is in it for you after Highschool, you'll be happy living your life in college. With him, he thinks that he needs to focus on building up his dream. He will not be able to give you a luxurious life, like the one your parents gave you. He’s just a drug dealer in a band with no certain future; maybe Corroded Coffin will fail, or maybe their talent will get its recognition someday, who knows? But until then, he’s letting you go.

AN: OKAY! I'm actually thinking of making a part 2. To whoever gets to read this pls give me any comments, I'll gladly take anything since this is my first time writing SGAHDFHG. Hope you like it!

p.s. I just find it funny how the first fic I posted is literally an angst SHASDHJ considering I hate angsts w no fluff ending.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #reader x eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fics #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson st #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things eddie munson #st eddie munson #stranger things x reader #stranger things season four #stranger things season 4 #stranger things imagine #stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson edit #eddie munson x female reader

[madaboutmunson2]

Dream Weaver - Part 1

Prompt: Dreams are Soulmate's Memories (C2) @eddiemunsonbingo Summary: Eddie begins to get a reoccurring dream, and Wayne advises him of an old bit of folklore he heard once. That some dreams could be the memories of your soulmate. Ever the detective, a young Eddie Munson, sets to documenting these dreams in hopes of gathering the clues of who his soulmate might be. Notes: I wanted this to be a visual as well as just text so below the standard fic text you'll see Eddie's actual diary entries, if you like that sort of thing :) But this is Eddie's diary so expect the language to be less than polite and the doodles may be a little immature let's say 😂 ---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dreaming is free.

Or at least that's what Debbie Harry sings.

You're my official new Dream Diary! Well, first of any diary, really. Nabbed you out of the lost & found when I was skipping class.

You're kinda girly, but you were free, and being girly aint all that bad. That's all patriarchal bullshit, anyway!

Never thought I'd need one of these, but I figure maybe these weird dreams are worth tracking, just in case I do have one. A SOULMATE!!! Christ, that's terrifying!

I was having trouble sleeping, and then I started getting these weird ass dreams. Not like weird-cool, like after too much cheese, chocolate or weed (He’s drawn a picture of a joint here), but like weird, as in they were really fucking normal. I mean normal, like TV family normal, like the Brady bunch, but way less people, not like reality normal.

Well, at least at first. Sometimes they aren't so nice. Sometimes they reminded me of living with my folks, and that FUCKING SUCKED!

Anyway, I told the font of knowledge that is Wayne about these weird dreams and at first, he was like, don't worry about it, but then he told me this bit of folklore and it was something like your dreams are the memories of your soulmate, so I thought I'd start writing them down. Like campaign clues to figure out who it might be? Unless one of their memories is looking in a mirror, I'm gonna need all the clues I can get!

So far, I think that I'm like a little kid, and there are a few people that show up. One is a man who looks real fancy, probably loaded. I guess he’s the Dad? He’s mostly always in a shirt and tie, sometimes one of those Dad polo shirts that he probably wears to golf with his yuppie friends. Well, bad fashion aside, proves one thing at least, being richer wouldn’t have got me a better Dad because the guy is a grade-A star fucking asshole! He’s always holding some object in his hand, a broken picture frame, a Barbie, a book, a glass of whiskey, shoving it towards my face and yelling like I just pissed in his cereal or something. WHAT A DICK! I can feel my soulmate wants to cry but is holding it in. I’m not sure how. Maybe she’s small for her age? The Dad guy is at least 2 feet taller than them. No way someone with that good a life would shout at a kid that way, right? A shitty dad is a pretty sad thing to have in common, but at least it's something because it’s the only thing so far. 

There is a woman in a uniform with an apron, she's nice, and she gives us cookies on the sly, and when the Dad ogre has finished shouting at us, she’s normally the one who turns up just before I wake up.

The last person, I don't know if she’s the Mom or a piano teacher, but she’s way too good-looking to be either. She looks like a movie star and dresses like one too. Velvet Looks like Faye Dunaway in Chinatown, but her eyes slope down, like when she isn’t smiling, they always look sad. But my god, when she smiles and tells me I played something right, I feel like my heart could burst right out of my chest and explode into a million cartoon bluebirds and butterflies or some shit like that. I don't think I've felt that way about anything except my guitar and when a cheerleader smiled at me one time accidentally. Shit what if my soulmate is a cheerleader? Most of them are rich girls, right?

Anyway, that's what I have for now. Until next time Double-D

#eddie munson #eddiemunson #Eddie munson soulmates #Eddie munson dream diary #Eddie munson dream journal #Eddie munson doodles #madaboutmunson #madaboutmunson Dream Weaver #stranger things

[skinsort]

Hello, I've been thinking about code and selling code and sharing code in the rpc because someone posed the question to me of what I'd want to happen if someone was heavily editing a skin I sold, and to be honest, my first instinct was 'take my name off it'. That was met with some surprise, but let me explain why.

Code, to me, is a largely democratic landscape. If you want to learn, hundreds of thousands of people and websites have come together to teach you. Masses of people share open source work on codepen, stack overflow etc. Code as a skill is like assembling an especially abstract puzzle where you can only think about the pieces, not really see them. But most puzzles have similar strategies to solve- start with the corner pieces, then the edges, then the most recognizable patterns etc etc etc working your way down to the more and more difficult details. Most of code- most of my job writing code- involves minimizing the amount of time working on those shared strategies so we can have more time to work on the the interesting bits, the hard bits. the bits that make the site we're working on unique and useful. Frankly, jcink is the easy part of code, by and large. Your data is already structured and provided to you in a very particular way. It is inefficiently, but largely documented. Many other people have solved all the problems you are likely to have trying to build a skin. Skinning is html and css for the vast majority of items. It is the easy stuff. If I sell code, that code is now the property of the person I sold it to. It is not shareable or redistributable. You can't take my code and resell it as your own, but as far as I'm concerned you can do whatever you want with it. If I solved problems that might otherwise feel difficult (accessibility and responsiveness come to mind) cool. You can solve the easy ones, like styling and colors and fonts you like. You can add or subtract things that vibe with what you want that code to do. Once it is sold, it is yours to do with what you like when it comes to personal use. This is true of almost all coding contracts that exist in the entire world. If it weren't, no one would ever hire external contractors to do any work for their company, and I can tell you now, even companies which could fully afford to do all their tech in house absolutely do not in 99% of cases if their business isn't selling their own tech. The rule is generally- you may do anything you like with this, except resell it to someone else. So why take my name off it? I don't endorse how other people code. Even in my professional life, I've taken projects off my portfolio because the client took a project I worked on and broke it (imo), often with other professional developers doing the breaking. If a prospective employer were to go look at it, I'd be embarrassed by what it looks like today. Tell me why I (and my team) created a website that was fully responsive, and they went back to make it adaptive in the year of our lord 2022 because they preferred to have pixel perfect views at 3 specific breakpoints rather than a responsive site. I don't know, it's infuriating. I can't cite that project as an example of my work anymore, because it isn't. I would never leave a site in that state.

So, my first instinct with the idea of people using a skin i sell them as a base is 'take my name off it.' I don't want to be associated if responsive/accessible features are lost due to others working on a skin I wrote. But at the same time, where is the line between using something as a base, and editing a few small features? I certainly don't want to be an arbiter of that, or have to field questions or navigate feelings about it. In fact, personally I would not feel upset at all if someone used a paid for skin as a base, and inviting that kind of discussion is the only way I possibly could get upset since people have weird attitudes about a lot of this stuff. So I think the more practical standard is just to put credit, but make it explicit that the work has been heavily altered. Don't resell or redistribute, and you're golden, imo. Anyway, those are my feelings as someone who writes code for a living. I'm interested to hear counterpoints - constructively of course.

#jcink coding #coding meta #meta #tfw you find out days after posting this take that the original question was asked because of tattler shenanigans lol help me i'm in danger #from a resource server mutual for shame! #i joke but fr tho #I have no interest in The Discourse guys #i mean i have my takes but i don't care if people have different ones #at least not when it comes to code #standard disclaimer about basic decency yadda yadda #pls don't involve me in tattler fights tho it's not my vibe #i don't wanna be positioned as an authority aside from what my own opinions are #i'm just over here playing with my lore and scripts #and i prefer things to stay that way #not deleting because i do think it's a relevant question but adding the tags for posterity lololol #if it is tattler discourse pls just lemme know and if it's an interesting question on it's own terms like this one is I'll answer it in lik #a month or two on the blog #happy to chat in dms as long as we all respect the space I'd wanna take from that messiness lol #no worries tho #i understand why it was asked but rpc catfighting is SO not my special interest it's hard to overstate #okay thank you #and goodnight :)

[minuy600]

Atari 2600 Chronicles 1980 #9 - Dragster

Dragster is interesting, it's a game whose legacy is far more significant than what the title actually has to offer. Todd Rodgers, anyone?

Yeah. The guy who claimed to have popped off hard and 'beat the simulations' back in '82, as he supposedly did with various other Activision games as well. That, he didn't do. As proven by a disassembly of the code that showed that Rodgers' claimed time was a whole 0.06 faster than what was legitemately possible. He was stripped of all his 'achievements' just a couple years back in 2018. Whoops!

The gameplay itself, I kid you not, is nothing more than accelerating, shifting gear on time and MAYBE steering if you have set it to the appropiate setting. That's IT. A round lasts no more than 10 seconds. However, I will maintain, that those 10 seconds are actually really quite fun to get a grasp off. It's immensely satisfying to follow a certain rhythm and shave off a couple more hundreds of a second. This is the kinda time trial I do seriously enjoy, even if it's only a fraction of it's potential that is being utilised here. Gives me memories of when I was trying to be seriously competitive on Mario Kart and F1 2021.

Still, this game was never worth it's original price tag. If you're only gonna make the gameplay loop shallow, at least add some confetti and sprinkles to it in the way of wacky extra modes. Multiplayer and a real-life patch can only get you so far.

The Verdict

Graphics (7): This is a weird one. It's hard to see what the drag racing car is supposed to be since it lacks any and all color, but damn, something about the color scheming otherwise and the subtle animation details is quite satisfying to me. I like it. Obviously, Activision bias applies here, the fonts are also significantly more polished than what Atari was doing.

Sound (7): Hmmm, this is a step up over other 2600 racing games I think. What I like the most about it has gotta be how realistic (for 1980 standards) it is to have to listen to the engine firing up gradually and shifting just as it sounds like it's gonna blow. Would be a little bit before we'd see that properly recreated on a home system once more, I reckon.

Fun Factor (8): As mentioned earlier, this may only be a small smidge of how expansive it could be, but this is a perfect example of how superb it is to learn how to get FAST at a game. Either via a time trial mode or straight up speedrunning. The essentials are all there. Learning the controls > completing a run > getting gradually faster > trying another mode. The controls are not even that easy, you wouldn't know how many times I blew the engine by putting on too much gas or popped the brakes too eary. Thankfully, you're not punished particularly severely if you lose out, so as long as you keep your console close to you. The game is very quick to reset with the flick of the switch, it doesn't hesitate in starting the countdown right as you do so.

As a little side tangent, man, the DualShock 2 feels amazing to use with this game. I know not everything is made equal on Activision Anthology, but this is one of those good ones. Clicky stick, solid X button to press down, the Select button is what functions as a game reset, it's bliss. Definitely a recommendation to play first and foremost if you nab a copy.

Longevity (5): Strictly, and I mean STRICTLY, for those with the patience of a monk and desire to join a site like Twin Galaxies. If you need elaborate mind games and/or external factors to make it worth playing for more than maybe an hour total, you already more or less lost this argument. If you do fit the criteria needed to enjoy the grind, this score can be a little higher. It's one of the very earliest speedrunning games after all. I'm personally quite happy with being in the low 6 seconds territory, but I could be persuaded to get below that milestone.

In Conclusion

#retro gaming #minuy600 #review #sona #atari 2600 #1980 #activision #dragster

[petpromartllc]

Cat Tags in California: Get your companion a Pet Identification Tag

Having proper identification tags for your pets in California and cat tags in California is extremely important for their safety and well-being. California state law requires that all dogs over the age of 4 months must have a license tag affixed to their collar whenever they are in public spaces (California Food and Agriculture Code Section 30951). While cats are not required by law to have identification tags, it is still highly recommended as it will help reunite you with your feline friend if they ever get lost. This article will provide an overview of pet tag requirements in California, the benefits of customized engraving, and where to get personalized dog ID tags in San Jose, made locally.

California Dog License Tags

Dogs over four months of age in California that do not have a valid dog license tag attached to their collar and displayed in an open and visible manner in public are subject to distressing circumstances and a possible ticket. Tagging is the option that your local animal services agency would give you, and the tags prove that your dog’s rabies vaccination record is up-to-date. If you are in dog rescue, having a license tag attached is basically obligatory, as animal control officers could use the number of your license tag to identify your dog and reach you if it ever gets lost. The prices for dog licenses in CA cover a range from $15- $30, or a little more if your dog isn’t spayed/neutered. These permit cards are typically issued using the 1-year and 3-year options.

Strictly in compliance with governing legal requirements, metal license tags for basic purposes are the most commonly used tags by pet owners. However, many people also buy more strong engraved tags in addition to these. The tag becomes a multi-label tag because it will be used as a backup in case of getting detached. The custom tags with engraving will allow them to get in touch if your pet gets lost just by scanning it with your mobile phone. Hence, the custom tags act as helpful contacts to reach you in such a simple way.

Benefits of Custom Engraved Pet Tags

Getting a small pet ID tag branded and personalized for your cat or dog helps you enjoy numerous advantages that usually only big animals like horses and donkeys receive. Some of the top benefits include:

Show your phone number - The person who picked up your pet will have your phone number at hand and give you a call immediately. Most of the standard tags look very simple, and all they show is the registration number, which ought to be read from a database.

Long-lasting materials- Custom tags enable you to source heavy-duty metals that stainless steel cannot be worn down or fall apart easily. Plastic license plates follow this pattern as well. The plates may chip or even fade from exposure to the sun.

The design uniqueness - which allows you to select the font style and in addition to adding images like your pet’s name, a photo, or some emoji icons that you like. This will also Locate precisely to what pet this particular tag belongs to in case it ends up missing.

The feeling of calmness - Having your pet wearing separate ID tags well to both of you’s collar is peace of mind for you as it increases the chance of the loss pet being reunited with you if they accidentally escape the window or door.

With customized pet engraving tags in California, you can include any essential information that you want good Samaritans and shelter employees to instantly know about your beloved cat or dog should they ever lose their way.

#cat tags in California #pet engraving tags in California #personalized dog id tags in San Jose

[boxoftechblog]

The Role of Quality Assurance Testing in Delivering Exceptional User Experiences

Introduction

In today's hyper-competitive digital landscape, delivering exceptional user experiences is paramount for the success of any software application, website, or digital product. User expectations have never been higher, and the margin for error is razor-thin. This is where Quality Assurance (QA) testing steps in as a crucial element of the software development process. In this blog, we will explore the pivotal role of QA testing in ensuring that users have exceptional and frustration-free experiences when interacting with digital products and services.

Understanding User Experience (UX)

Before delving into the role of QA testing, it's important to understand what we mean by "user experience." User experience encompasses all aspects of an end user's interaction with a product, including their impressions, emotions, preferences, and ease of use. It's about more than just aesthetics; it's about how a user feels while using a product and how effectively it helps them achieve their goals.

Identifying and Eliminating Bugs

One of the most direct ways QA testing contributes to exceptional user experiences is by identifying and eliminating bugs and glitches. Bugs can manifest in various forms, from functional errors that prevent users from completing tasks to visual glitches that disrupt the overall design. A single bug can lead to frustration and abandonment of the product. QA testers systematically hunt for these issues, ensuring that the product works as intended.

Imagine a scenario where an e-commerce website has a bug that prevents customers from adding items to their cart. Without effective QA testing, this bug could go unnoticed until it frustrates countless users, leading to lost sales and a tarnished reputation.

Ensuring Functional Consistency

Functional consistency is crucial for providing an exceptional user experience. QA testing ensures that all features and functions of a product work consistently across different devices, browsers, and operating systems. This consistency is essential for users who access the product through various platforms.

For example, a mobile app must function seamlessly on both Android and iOS devices. QA testing identifies any platform-specific issues and ensures that the app behaves consistently, regardless of the device a user chooses.

Optimizing Performance

Exceptional user experiences demand optimal performance. Slow loading times, laggy interactions, and crashes can drive users away faster than anything else. QA testers rigorously test a product's performance under various conditions to identify bottlenecks and areas for improvement.

Performance testing can include load testing to ensure the product can handle a large number of simultaneous users, stress testing to determine how the product behaves under extreme conditions, and responsiveness testing to ensure quick and smooth interactions. By optimizing performance, QA testing contributes directly to a positive user experience.

Validating User Interface (UI) and User Experience (UX) Design

Aesthetics matter, and a well-designed user interface can significantly enhance the overall user experience. QA testers play a role in validating the UI and UX design by ensuring that it aligns with user expectations and usability standards. They check for consistency in design elements, the effectiveness of navigation, and adherence to design principles.

For example, in a mobile app, QA testers would evaluate whether the placement of buttons and menus makes sense from a user's perspective. They might also assess the color scheme and font choices to ensure they are visually appealing and accessible.

Accessibility Testing

Inclusive design is an integral part of delivering exceptional user experiences. QA testing includes accessibility testing to ensure that the product is usable by individuals with disabilities. This involves evaluating whether the product complies with accessibility standards such as WCAG (Web Content Accessibility Guidelines).

Accessibility testing checks for features like screen reader compatibility, keyboard navigation, and alternative text for images. By making digital products accessible to all users, QA testing contributes to a more inclusive and exceptional user experience.

Security and Data Privacy

Security breaches and data leaks can have catastrophic consequences for both users and the reputation of a company. QA testing includes security testing to identify vulnerabilities and weaknesses in the product's code and architecture. It helps ensure that user data is protected and that the product is resilient to cyber threats.

When users trust that their data is safe, they are more likely to have a positive perception of the product and, consequently, a better overall experience.

Cross-Device and Cross-Browser Compatibility

Users access digital products using a wide range of devices and browsers. QA testing plays a vital role in ensuring cross-device and cross-browser compatibility. Testers verify that the product functions and displays correctly on different screen sizes, resolutions, and browsers, reducing the likelihood of user frustration due to compatibility issues.

For example, a responsive website should adapt seamlessly to various screen sizes, from desktop monitors to mobile phones, ensuring that content remains accessible and legible.

User-Centered Feedback Incorporation

QA testing doesn't operate in isolation. It often involves incorporating feedback from real users into the testing process. User feedback is invaluable for understanding how the product performs in real-world scenarios and addressing issues that may not be evident through standard testing procedures.

By integrating user-centered feedback into QA testing, developers and designers can make informed improvements that directly enhance the user experience.

Conclusion

In the digital age, exceptional user experiences are a competitive advantage. Quality Assurance (QA) testing plays a pivotal role in delivering these exceptional experiences by identifying and addressing issues that could frustrate users. From bug hunting to performance optimization, from accessibility testing to cross-device compatibility checks, QA testing is the unsung hero behind the scenes, ensuring that users can enjoy smooth, secure, and satisfying interactions with digital products and services.

Incorporating QA testing as an integral part of the software development process is not just a best practice; it's a strategic imperative for businesses looking to stand out in a crowded marketplace. By investing in QA testing, companies can build trust with their users, foster loyalty, and ultimately achieve sustainable success in an era where user experience reigns supreme.

#manual testing #testing #qa testing #automation testing #software testing #software testing in salem

[krxnapriya]

NM3217 Assignment 3: Infographic

Thought process and my take on the brief:

Infographics aim to disseminate information most efficiently by combining what we have learned from the past two assignments - abstraction and storytelling. With abstraction, we aim to simplify the subject at hand to its most stripped-down, but equally legible version. With storytelling, the visual aesthetics and elements aim to intentionally promote the information and narrative at hand. Combining these two concepts form the backbone of designing an infographic. 

I decided to opt for an informational infographic with light elements of comparison to be able to differentiate the different kinds of products I had, which was tea. I chose to design an infographic on the different types of tea as I felt that the simplicity of a product used on a daily and yet the complexity of a beverage that has an extremely rich history that spans thousands of years ago would prove to aim for abstraction and storytelling at the same time. I also really like drinking tea..(if it wasn’t obvious enough).

Self-Reflection and Rationale:

My learning points while working on this assignment mostly revolved around figuring out how to simplify and effectively visually communicate whole sets of information. Another thing I struggled with was striving to rely almost entirely on design and not words - visually communicating predominantly through illustrations was a harder task than I thought it would be. 

I chose Felix Titling as the font for my heading as it came across as classic and timeless, which is what tea also connotates. As it is also a titling font, it looked clean with a bigger font size. For my color scheme, I decided to stick with pastels, and shades of beige and brown.  I also used the pathfinder option to merge my two shapes to create a temperature icon.

This is also the assignment where I got to play the most with color and experiment with background colors and the primary colors used for the illustrations. I used the pen tool, curved pen tool, and direct selection tool a lot while designing.

While designing the infographic, some critique I’d give myself is that I focused too much on simplicity and lost out on the visual appeal and storytelling aspect of it. There wasn’t a specific visual hook and my hierarchy of information could’ve been much clearer, which was also subsequently brought up during the critique. I also needed to standardize a lot of elements in the infographic and had issues aligning these elements and making the layout clearer. Another suggestion I got was to change my warping text on the teacup or try out other effects because it made the text difficult to read. Additionally, the section where I added the flavor profile of tea was looking less aesthetic and more awkward. My color palette also needed a lot more work, because the yellow I used while illustrating yellow tea looked more fluorescent and less pastel…which was not a good look. I realized after that it didn’t look as terrible on the monitor as it did on the projector, but nevertheless, it did need some tweaking to fit the overall color scheme better.

Improvement post critique

Out of the three assignments so far, I think there has been the most change post-critique for this assignment. First and foremost, I added a visual hook (or attempted to) with text design, whereby I combined the teacup and the word tea. I changed the warping percentage to make it appear more natural and less awkward. I also standardized the font and font size on the teacup, which in my opinion was a better aesthetic choice. Additionally, I added the time and temperature icon to the tea bag so as to cut down on unnecessary words. I tried to cut down further on the words and hence removed ‘flavor profile’ and just left the flavors as I felt it could be inferred based on the title and overall illustrations. Furthermore, I warped the title of each tea, which was something I always intended to do from my first sketch. Finally, I standardized everything and cleaned up the layout more, to make it appear more visually pleasing. 

Overall, it was a great learning journey on learning how to represent different elements intentionally, effectively, and aesthetically, which are concepts that keep being reinforced with each design assignment!

[m39]

Doom WADs’ Roulette (2004): Hell Revealed II

You stand still in your room, with your eyes fully open and with some small fire on your head. You don’t even blink for a while. You’ve just finished playing “Hell Revealed II”.

Twice.

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-

You pass out.

Three days later.

You wake up.

Wh- WHAT?!

...

Oh yeah... this WAD...

G8: Hell Revealed II

Main author(s): Various (project originally led by Jonas Feragen (Chrozoron))

Release date: December 31st, 2003 (original release)

Version played: Final (I guess)        

Required port compatibility: Vanilla

Levels: 32 (classic 30 + 2)

Remember Hell Revealed? You know, the WAD from 1997 that was really hard and had a shit ton of Barons? Well, there is a sequel to it. Not created by the original WAD’s authors, although Yonatan Donner approved this WAD’s creation. This one was made by a group of over 10 creators led by Jonas Feragen, who created the Under the Horizon map for the 10 Sectors contest. This group also included Derek MacDonald (Jägermörder 1), Mike Watson (Void and MassMouth series), and Martin Friberg (Crestfallen) among many other authors that helped with Alien Vendetta.

So how was the development of Hell Revealed II behind the scenes? Well, it all started in 1998. Yes, just around a year later after the release of the original WAD. To put it lightly, this project was a mess. There were two beta versions of this WAD that had 17 maps, both released around February 2000. Surprisingly, Jonas left the project after some time (which considering that he hated the time with this WAD according to the comment on the Dean of Doom video about this WAD, it was a good call that he left), leaving Sam Woodman and Andy Olivera to somehow pull this mess together and release it.

So after all of this chaos, is Hell Revealed II a worthy sequel to the original MegaWAD? Let’s take a look.

And also, my apologies if I end up sounding sour towards this WAD. Two playthroughs can tire a man.

Hell Revealed II looks rather meh. Usually, the maps look rather fine and once in a while you can find something that can be awe for your eyes, but there are also times when a map looks like something out of the mid-1990s.

I know that this WAD focuses on tough battles and most of the maps were theoretically made between 1998 and 2000 by one guy, not even mentioning that it was made with Vanilla standards and restrictions but come on. Alien Vendetta and Scythe prove that you could make maps that were as pretty as they are hard. Even the first Hell Revealed had more interesting-looking maps than this WAD.

The status bar looks better, but I would prefer the numbers to use another font because sometimes I can’t differentiate some of them from each other.

Also, this WAD might like 3D bridges a little bit too much. Sure there is this fun extravaganza in Mind Trap with multiple of these stacked vertically but aside from this part of the WAD, I feel like they were overdone at this point in time. Oh, and you can fall through at least one of these.

Thankfully, the soundtrack is good. Unlike HR1 which had most of the tracks replaced with music from Rise of the Triad, this WAD has its soundtrack created by Sam Woodman (who I mentioned before) and Petter Mårtensen. Thank God it didn’t ruin my mood while playing this WAD, otherwise, I don’t know what would’ve happened.

If I could choose my favorite tracks, I would go with Sweaty Mancubus Armpits (very mature title), The Temple of Judgment, and Remains of War among the ones I liked the most.

...

Why do I feel like the uglier the map, the better the music is?

Most of the time, Hell Revealed II has very simple maps. You would need to have mayo for a brain to get lost in these. There are of course some maps that require some brainstorming but there is nothing going too far.

Like with its predecessor, you can complete this WAD’s maps in no time if there are no monsters enabled, no matter if they are big or small.

There is some interesting stuff in these maps, good and bad. The list will get pretty long so buckle up:

You can finish IGNITION! with one of the three keys required to enter the building.

For some reason, Revival has the blue key hidden behind an unmarked wall near one of the switches. This is not a key to a secret, folks. It is required to finish this map. Is this supposed to be a reference to something from the original Hell Revealed that only Cyb understands? I don’t know.

Base Blaze tricks you with too simple-to-be-true key hunting before revealing its actual guts.

You end up being blown up at the end of Metal Meltdown. Don’t worry you don’t die. You just start the next map with 1% of your health (near a Megasphere, thankfully).

And speaking of the next map, in The Path II you can ignore the Mancubi that are in cages. At the very end of the map, you can squish them with crushers, saving your ammo in the process if you want to.

Also, this map and The Descent II have basically the same way to reach the secret exit AKA finding three switches to get access to the fourth one. The difference is that you need to shoot the switches in the former map while in the latter one, these are behind the Icon of Sin textures.

Conflux has this very funny thing at the beginning where the lights on stairs systematically turn on as you approach them.

Dis 2000 and Beyond the Sea are two oddball maps that were released before HRII was finished. So most of you might be wondering WTF is this? But at least Dis 2000 was created for this WAD. PAG666 released it separately because he thought that the project was abandoned.

Beyond the Sea, though? It was originally MAP06 from the WAD called D2200EP1 that came out in 1998 and Andy Olivera just shoved his map into the MAP28 slot to release this WAD completely!

Oh, by the way, this might be the most tedious map to play in Hell Revealed II. If not straight up the worst. Might as well call it IDCLEV29 in my opinion. In fact, fuck playing this map twice! One time is too much!

Oh yeah, and the last map (Source Control) is yet another shitty Icon of Sin map. Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay...

If you haven’t noticed already, some of the maps are (to some degree) sequels to the ones from the first Hell Revealed, like Resistance Remains, The Path II, and Hardcore. And while I believe that most of these maps do a great job taking the original concept and expanding it and/or sticking rather faithly to it, some of these maps are actually named after maps from WADs that have nothing to do with the original Hell Revealed, like The Inmost Dens III and Not That Simple II to Inmost Dens II and Not That Simple from Memento Mori, and the previously mentioned Dis 2000 to the original Dis from the Inferno episode.

And then there is The Siege II, which doesn’t really feel like a homage to the original Siege but more like to the cage trap from Last Look at Eden! Why Jonas even called this map like that?!

Changing the subject, I feel like Hell Revealed II is basically as hard as the first Hell Revealed. I wouldn’t say it’s easier since this WAD has maps that basically go beyond what HR1 had to offer in 1997. I wouldn’t also say that it’s harder since the experience I gathered from playing WADs (and watching decino’s videos on this WAD) made me somewhat completely numb towards some of the sections that should’ve scared me if they were in HR1. I played worse.

But this WAD feels really tiring to play. My memory of playing Hell Revealed 1 is next to none at this point but I don’t think the maps there felt as completely tiring as here. Just hard. It’s like the map makers, instead of improving on the original WAD’s concept, just shoved as many monsters as possible in like at least one-third of this WAD and said IS HARD!! DONE!!!

I wonder if it was even properly tested for Pistol-starting by looking at other videos dedicated to this WAD. From what I’ve read, Jonas Feragen was more into Deathmatch maps instead of single-player ones. And Andy Olivera had... masochistic tendencies to be nice while contributing to the WAD’s maps.

Remember the Hoovy Trap of Infinite Bullshit from Ascending to the Stars? Well, Hell Revealed II decided to replicate this trap... a couple of times. And everytime it was shit to artificially increase the difficulty of this WAD. Some of the biggest examples are Three Times Ending Fuckery in Reluctant Pain, the Hoovy mosh pit in Mind Trap (the closest one to resemble the original trap), and Four-Way Cow Barrage in The Inmost Dens III (I wonder if someone actually beat this one without a secret Invun).

Just like in my HR1 review, I’ve decided to count how many Barons are in this WAD. Surprisingly, their amount is much smaller, up to over 250 on Hurt Me Plenty, compared to almost 450 of these in the first WAD on the same difficulty level.

But where Hell Revealed II lacks with Barons, it definitely makes up with Arch-viles. Up to 281 on HMP from my calculations. And if you feel masochistic today, don’t worry, Ultra-Violence pumps up almost another 200 of these, making it up to 472.

Guys? You know what? I don’t even want to know what the authors were on while making this WAD.

And let me talk briefly about The Inmost Dens III. MtPain27 might call this map the Doom equivalent of a chastity belt... and he might be right if you Pistol-start it blind on Ultra-Violence. But thankfully it was much more manageable in my case, simply because I wasn’t Pistol-starting this map, nor playing it on UV. It was still hard, but not as much as I thought at first.

Playground on the other hand? Ho boy! Forget about how you play this one. You will get your ass blasted by this map anyway! It’s up to over 1100 demons, and that’s just Hurt Me Plenty people! Ultra-Violence adds another 500! Oh yeah, did I mention it can have up to 88 Martians depending on the difficulty?!

I saw people liking this map. I’m not really one of those people. I feel like it goes too far, and it proves my point on how HRII feels more like a shove as many demons on a map type of sequel WAD instead of improving on an original concept type of one. Sure, it does get better after wiping the floor of the initial demons, but I dare you to tell me if someone actually did it without the secret Invun. Because filling four platforms with as many Arch-viles as possible is such a good idea, right?!

...

Still better than Beyond the Sea. I beat it on my second try. Not gonna come back to this map, however.

Like HR1, this WAD has bugs. Unlike HR1, it doesn’t utilize them and they are all accidental. I can remember at least three instances where there were holes in textures and you could look into the void. Other than that, it’s stuff related to maps having too much stuff in them if you won’t play it on a limit-removing source port (all written in the text file).

So, to ask again after playing Hell Revealed II, does it deserve to be called a worthy sequel to the original WAD? Honestly, I don’t know. I wouldn’t call this WAD terrible but something tells me that most of the authors went too far. Sure, most of the time it was rather fun while playing this WAD, but other times it was tiring due to the problems that I mentioned before.

I’m not gonna play this WAD again for a very long time. One playthrough is enough, but two (even with the knowledge of cheesing some hard moments and where the secrets are) may have a chance to break your mind.

If you want to know more about HRII, then first of all, there is decino’s let’s play series, showing you how to beat it on UV while also Pistol-starting.

Secondly, Dean of Doom’s review on the WAD where he ripped it apart.

phew

Finally, I can have some rest from this WAD. Thankfully the next WAD on the roster is more enjoyable than this one. And it’s the second WAD related to B.P.R.D from 2004. So we are going to expect at least one banger map to play.

See you guys next time.

Bye!

#doom #Doom WAD #review #doom mod #Doom 2 #2004 #cacowards #doom 2004 #hell revealed #hell revealed II #doom hell revealed II #Doom WADs’ Roulette

[inadeeptrance]

Pep Talk

Years later my dad and I would discuss the millions of faceless honest blue collar and white collar workers toiling away in government jobs, in banks, schools; anywhere really where corruption has become the standard modus operandi for not only making progress but also for just plain sustenance. Some like my dad were lucky to have the right mixture of education, integrity and fearlessness that allowed a nomadic lifestyle; a lifestyle that allowed their honesty to prevail and were able to relocate when the opposing forces gained an upper hand. He would rattle off names of ex colleagues who ended their careers in positions lower than their worth by sticking to their principles and also circumstances that prevented them from migrating. My dad found a way to reach out to them and keeping them in good spirits. I found this technique of his quite accidentally. I was in high school and had to buy an academic book that was available only in stores near my Dad's bank. Being a Saturday, both of us had half-days and the plan was for me to take public transport from school, buy the book, go to my Dad's bank and hitch a ride back home with him. I lost my way and didn't reach the bank until something like 3 pm. As I climbed up the stairs, a person was writing a 'Hindi word of the week' on a blackboard using multicolored chalks. The only other person in the rather big circle office was my Dad sitting sage like in his desk and writing something. He correctly guessed that I had lost my way and asked me to wait a few minutes more and went back to his writing. On the ride back I quizzed him what he had been writing back in the office. Just some words for some friends, he said. Want to read? Sure. I fished out a printed copy from his briefcase and started reading. In the colored paper, in the characteristic style of the dot matrix printer font was a single page narrative with the title 'Pep Talk'. Very simple words that included a witty anecdote, some serious words that ended with a pun and some clip art. I loved it. The following Saturday he brought home another edition of 'Pep Talk'. I started looking forward to Saturdays and Pep Talks. He had somehow figured out a way to condense a cohesive narrative into a single page - just the right size to slip under the radar of pesky superiors and reach the intended audience. I borrowed some of his work and started fusing them into the writing and debate competitions that I regularly took part in. While not being preachy, Pep Talk would be written in a cheery note and would find a way to extol a virtue. More often than not that virtue would be honesty. In my mind, Pep Talk was a weekly blockbuster and my dad had a following befitting a superstar. So, I was a little surprised when he told me that he hardly ever got any feedback. He did it without expecting any gratification because he romanticized that through the inter-bank correspondence it reached fellow employees and gave them solace and the power to sustain in an otherwise corrupt world. It was intended for the clerk sitting in his stifling office after yet another defeat to the forces of caste and politics, nursing the semi-cold tea in his glass or steel tumbler, going through the bank correspondence more out of habit than anything else, discovering pep talk and letting out that sigh that pushed him on for the next few days with the comfortable understanding that he was not alone. It was intended also for those that had succumbed to greed but were now trying to regain their conscience. It is quite possible, my dad would say, that Pep Talk didn't change anything and didn't influence even a single person. Well, it influenced one person.

[djarinsbeskar]

PREQUEL ARC: PART 2 - THE HOUK

A/N: Part 2 is here! First and foremost, can I just say thank you so much for the reception Part 1 received and to those who (gasps!) actually want me to tag them for updates??? I don’t know how to react??? I’m so touched??????? It’s so motivating and has reminded me why I love sharing my scribbles!

There’s a greater focus on world/character building in this chapter so if it feels a bit rambling or description heavy, I do apologise! Like I said, I’m trying to build some context to the reader-insert before we get to the smut, and I hope that I’ve kept her general enough that she doesn’t cross the line too much into OC territory and becomes unrelatable. As always, constructive criticism is welcome! My style of writing leaves much to be desired so I would love to know if something doesn’t make sense so I can improve and fix it. But enough of that, on with the show!

Pairing: Din Djarin/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.2k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: Language and slight injury detail.

Plot: You encounter Mando suffering one misfortune after another.

AO3 | Stitches Masterlist | Main Masterlist

8 ABY, Mynock, Dandoran.

The second time you met him, he had dislocated his shoulder after a nasty clash with a Houk.

Your dealing with the Mandalorian on Klatooine had moved to the back of your mind and you rarely, if ever, thought about it. It was merely another encounter with a rough character that needed some medical attention. You wouldn’t have been able to hazard a guess at how many similar characters you saw in a week while you worked at the clinic. Even more so when you’d left Klatooine after becoming disillusioned that the New Republic were actually trying to make a difference.

You had heard stories from the Core and Mid Rim planets. Stories of the investment and progress being made to rebuild after the tyranny of the Empire, of the billions of credits being poured into the development of new ship building centers on Corellia and large, extravagant residencies for government members on Coruscant. Things, you were sure, that were not actually urgent necessities as they were desires. Especially given that the funds you received from that same government to sustain the clinic thinned before drying up completely a few months after your encounter with the Mandalorian.

…Hemorrhaging more credits than is justified for the benefits we’re seeing in return.

The busybody politician with a colorful title and even more colorful robes waxed poetically, hiding the sentiment of disinterest in ways only a politician could. Half-heartedly trying to distract you by his explanations with empty praise and gratitude for your service during the Rebellion and your humanitarian work now, a true embodiment of what the New Republic stands for. He crowed like the colorful bird he looked like, dressed as he was with fine feathers lining the lapels of his robes.

You bristle at the memory of the hologram’s eyes flickering to look at anything besides you, running down the time you had spent weeks trying to get.

That was when the memory of the Mandalorian surfaced, surprisingly. How the day after you treated him you arrived at the medical center and saw  a familiar pouch of credits sitting innocently behind the check-in desk. When you enquired with the receptionist, she told you it was sitting there once she opened up earlier that morning. The only note left being on one of the datapads behind the desk, the scrawling font reading; to help with your work. You had let out a chuckle to yourself as you checked your schedule, wondering if the brutish male you had treated last night really was as cold as he portrayed himself to be.

The memory had incited a righteous anger that a bounty hunter was more willing to support a voluntary clinic than the government that set it up in the first place was.

I thought the Empire were the ones who put a credit limit on what a life is worth. You had hissed in return, interrupting what you were sure was a well-rehearsed and well used speech, before hanging up. You pressed the heel of your hands into your eyes, taking a shuddering breath as you tried not to be nihilistic in thinking that you had spent nearly half your life thinking you could make a difference, when, you were just serving the Empire in different clothing.

It wasn’t a fair comparison; you knew the New Republic was neither as cruel nor as tyrannical and oppressive as it’s predecessor, but you had been made so dreadfully aware that in places like the Outer Rim, people would always be overlooked by those in power because they simply didn’t offer enough to be worth looking at.

The realization was a raw wound to your soul. You had lost brothers and friends to the fight for liberation, but it didn’t seem as though the grass was much greener on the other side. Maybe elsewhere in the galaxy it was, but where you were needed most, the grass was dehydrated and dying under the relentless sun.

With the clinic penniless, your meagre pension from the Rebellion was not nearly enough to keep it functioning. Add to that the reluctance of the other medics to run the clinic alongside you out of their own pocket and the intergalactic beacon for medical aid that alerted anyone in the parsec of where to go being disengaged, traffic stopped. The native Klatooinians preferred their own healers and very rarely, if ever, sought out medics from the New Republic.

For the first time in your life, your path wasn’t clear. If you even had a path anymore.

That was how you found yourself on Dandoran, flying off a week after the last of the medics left Derelkann to the first planet that was habitable to humans. But by the Maker, it was even rougher than Klatooine. The temperate climate and lush greenery were more comfortable for you, but the city you found yourself in, Mynock, was to say the least, undesirable. Having once been Hutt Space, there were still several illegal operations active that kept the city going and you learned early on what areas to avoid and to always carry a blaster with you. But at least where there was activity, there was work for you.

***

You met Biran Sonter the very day you arrived, asking directions to the nearest medical facility, hoping they could use another medic. He was an elderly Mirialan male with a wealth of history behind him, his facial tattoos creased with deep wrinkles and a kindly smile that reminded you of your grandfather.

You were flabbergasted to learn that during the time of the Galactic Republic, he acted as the royal physician to the palace on Naboo.

As you choked on the tea he had kindly made for you at that revelation, you couldn’t ask him quickly enough how he ended up here? On an Outer Rim backwater skughole of a planet and his tale had been sobering. When the Republic first fell, anyone who did not immediately surrender to the rising Empire was terminated. Biran had, at the time, only heard word of the death of the beloved former Queen Amidala and blamed the Empire vehemently. Escaping on one of the last shuttles from the Mid Rim planet before legions of clones descended, he arrived on Dandoran where no one, not even the Hutts cared enough to notice him. All they knew, was that he was an excellent doctor who charged little for his services and kept to himself. That was good enough for them. While he treated a vast number of criminals ranging from thieves to bounty hunters, he was not wholly merciful. He somehow managed to avoid or talk his way out of treating anyone in the organized crime syndicates or known traffickers and killers. It may have gone against a physician’s code to do ones best to save every life, but he like many, made their own code in the Outer Rim.

You fell into a fast and easy friendship with the Mirialan after that, your similar histories of working in the medical field despite being decades apart giving you plenty to talk about. The practice Biran ran in Mynock was always busy and he was only too grateful when you offered to take the weight off his old shoulders and gradually, his clients began to expect to see you most of the day and Biran for a few hours in the early morning. You were never short on work between cantina brawls, accidents and the downright attacks that took place in Mynock and the next eighteen standard months seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, Klatooine a distant memory, as was the Mandalorian you met there.

The night you saw him again, was no different to any other you spent enjoying a quiet drink before heading back to turn in for the night.

You had been in the process of leaving the cantina, recognizing that the later it grew, the rowdier and aggressive the clientele became. You could handle yourself as well as anyone who made their home in Hutt Space, but you knew better than to be blatantly reckless when you were on your own. It wasn’t like you had the squadron you stayed with throughout the Rebellion for backup as you once did, and your closest ally would probably break in half if you pushed him too hard. So no, you were not staying late with Mynocks newest resident of a Houk warlord and the company he seemed to attract.

The Houk in question was a cruel and belligerent brute, a former local warlord by the name of Gappo Teff. His reputation for inflicting punishment disproportionate to any slight committed against him or the Empire was one of the many echoes of the former imperial rule that was still being felt in the galaxy nearly three years after its collapse.

The stories of the chokehold he held over Sullust would make even a hardened soldier’s stomach churn. How he managed to escape the liberation of the planet without being dragged to the noxious surface of Sullust to suffer for the pain he had caused so many, was a mystery. But there he was, sitting like a king in the cantina you found yourself in, bellowing laughter ricocheting obnoxiously throughout the space, not a care in the world that he was a wanted felon.  

It might have been to do with the fact that he was at least seven and a half foot tall, with a mass that could easily fit three of you side by side across him and still not be seen. It might have been to do with the cold, milky blue of his small eyes, sunk into a skull so large it could probably shatter ribs and rupture organs if one were to be headbutted with it. The last thing anyone wanted was those eyes focusing on them. It could have been the heavy artillery modified blaster he kept laying on his lap; the weapon more of a cannon for those of a more regular stature. Whatever the reason, very few bounty hunters and even fewer New Republic guards came to collect him. He was probably one of the most easily found quarries on all Guild registers and New Republic wanted lists and yet, he languished in Mynock as if the Empire had never fallen and his reign was still assured.

Making your way to the entrance, you came up short as someone walked in, your nose coming abruptly close to a reddish-brown durasteel chest-plate. Taking a step back, your eyes did a double take at the familiar unpainted beskar helmet. Subconsciously, you had stepped to the side, the Mandalorian continuing to walk without a word as if you hadn’t nearly walked into him. Mandalorians were a rare sight these days, so you could be forgiven for staring. Though, you were most likely staring for entirely different reasons compared to everyone else in the cantina.

The armor was the same, if not a bit more worn, as was the dark boiled woolen cape and pulse rifle strapped to his back. But it was the gait; how could someone walk both gracefully and arrogantly, almost cocky in his self-assurance that he was in control wherever he went. It explained why he was so determined not to let his injury be known by his walk the last time you saw him. Because you had seen him before, there was no doubt in your mind that this was the same irritable reek of a Mandalorian you met in Derelkann years ago.

He stood in the middle of the cantina, assessing the place as his helmet scanned the area. If you didn’t know any better, you say he was…

“Oh, you gotta be kidding me.” You muttered to yourself when the helmet stopped on Teff. When you said bounty hunters didn’t bother to come after him, you should have been more specific. Smart bounty hunters didn’t bother hunting Gappo Teff, which explained why the one you knew of was right there looking for him.

A choice lay before you. Leave now and lock your doors until morning… or wait. For what, you couldn’t be sure. But if the Mandalorian wasn’t killed tonight by Teff, he was going to wish he was with the injuries he would probably sustain.

You let your head fall back on your shoulders as you exhaled. Why were you so soft for lost causes and wayward souls?

The Houks bodyguards left much to be desired, crumbling to the ground before they had even drawn their blasters, smoke rising from the blaster wounds inflicted effortlessly by Din.

The bodyguards weren’t what worried Din. Their boss hardly needed protecting, and he wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

The groan and screech of the metal table being shoved away by Teff as he stood to his full height made Din grit his teeth, arms open as he boomed, “Ah Mando, I was wondering when you’d try your luck at me. Your reputation is becoming rather infamous throughout the parsec.”

A guttural, wet laugh left the purple skinned quarry as Din remained silent and kept his blaster aimed. Damn, but the piece of bantha crap was big. He quickly scanned his peripheral, but it seemed the residents of Mynock had more self-interest than to trade blaster fire over one warlord, the barkeep casually making his was into the backroom of the bar to keep out of harms way.

“Why don’t you hang up that Guild work and let me make you a better offer.” Teff boomed, taking a swing of his drink, streams of the yellow fluid running down the sides of him mouth as those frosty eyes stayed trained on the bounty hunter.

Din rolled his eyes behind his helmet; negotiations by the quarry were his least favorite reaction to being caught but he knew better than to think he had captured the colossal male yet. Until Teff was either dead or frozen in carbonite, he was a danger. Luckily, the orders were to bring him in dead or alive. Seems the New Republic were fed up with him still breathing. He couldn’t say he blamed them.

“No?” the Houk pushed when Din didn’t respond, “Too bad, you’d have made an excellent addition to my collection.” And with more speed than Din had anticipated from the large male, he charged.

You had the good sense to leave the cantina as soon as the first blaster shot was fired, pulling the hood of your dusty grey jacket over your head while you made your way back to the practice to gather a few things. Things that would be completely obsolete if he died but you wouldn’t think that far. You were a realist, not a pessimist. The Houk might have had the advantage of height and sheer strength, but the Mandalorian was quicker, possibly smarter, and decked with enough firepower to make a starfighter pilot drool.

So, you put the odds about sixty forty in favor of the Mandalorian. Not that you would ever tell him that.

Teff roared in anger as Din rolled out of the way again, shooting his grappling hook to latch onto the Houks shoulder and yanked hard enough to throw the male off balance. Despite his large size however, Teff was able to slide his foot back to catch himself, putting him in direct line with Din.

He was on his feet in no time as the Houk charged at him, lowering his head so that on contact, Din’s left shoulder was thrown back into the wall of the cantina. His breath left him as the impact winded him, a dull but growing pain throbbing from his shoulder before Teff’s vile breath permeated even his helmet and a large hand wrapped around Din’s throat. He could feel his feet leave the floor and the weight of his body pulling downward made the pressure on his windpipe all the heavier.

“Oh well, at least you tried.” Teff gloated, his head leaning closer as if to peer into the visor and that distraction was all Din needed to lift his hand and engage his flamethrower, engulfing the Houk in flames. Din gasped in a breath when he was dropped, the squeals of pain coming from Teff disconcerting as he staggered around the cantina, desperately looking for something to extinguish the inferno his clothing and more vulnerable tissue had become.

Din waited a few more measured breaths before lifting the blaster and shooting the quarry in the vulnerable side of the neck, satisfied with the resounding bang the body made as it fell to the ground, flames still burning bright until he picked up the half-drunk tankard on Teffs table to douse the fire lest he be completely unrecognizable upon delivery.

Din looked around, the cantina was empty; the silence suddenly deafening as he looked back down at the body.

Now, how to get him back to the Razor Crest.

Din sighed.

“We have to stop meeting like this.”

You held up your hands unsurprised when the Mandalorian spun on the ramp of his ship, blaster raised and aimed right at you. He tilted his head slightly, taking you in and you tried not to fidget under the gaze you could feel raking over you despite not being able to see his eyes. What you could see though, was how limp his left arm was hanging to his side.

“The demon medic from Klatooine.” He muttered, finally placing your face and lowering his blaster slowly while you lowered your arms.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” You snorted before nodding to his arm, “And you’ll probably be calling me a lot worse when I tell you that that arm needs tending to.”

He shifted slightly, turning his body so you wouldn’t be able to see. You just crossed your arms across your chest and stared at him pointedly. He held your gaze and was still as a statue. You could play the silence game too if that was how he wanted to do this. It was only a matter of time before one of you broke and you weren’t the one with a dislocated shoulder, so you’d say that the odds were in your favor.

It seemed like time dragged on before, without saying anything, the Mandalorian sighed and turned towards the ship.

You bit down on a smile, but you could still feel it creeping upon your lips as you congratulated yourself on winning. Two nil, you tallied in your head, not bad girl.

The ship… well the ship was a fossil and that was being generous. But it was clean and obviously well taken of, if the tidy hull was anything to go by.

Apart from the charred corpse lying in the middle of course, but those were just details. Easily overlooked. The smell however… that was a different story, but you held back any comments. You still couldn’t fathom how he’d managed to drag a fully grown Houk through the town one-handed, but then you knew that the strength and discipline of the Mandalorians was unrivalled. He could have done it through sheer determination and honestly, you were lucky to have found him at all. But people in Mynock liked to talk, so following the rumors' had let you there relatively easy.

A sigh broke your train of thought, “Let’s get this over with.”

The warrior seemed resigned to his fate as he stepped over the corpse and you followed suit, mind instantly running through the correct procedure and treatment.

“We have to get the bone in the upper arm into the correct position before it slips back into joint, otherwise the force will just break your arm.” You explained as you moved to stand in front of the large warrior when he sat back on one of the many crates pushed against the wall of the ship. You could barely hear the short exhales coming from the modulator and you could only guess that he was holding back speaking, whether in pain or frustration that you had strong-armed him into accepting treatment again.

“But hey, look on the bright side.”

His visor tilted slightly to look at you.

“No droids needed.” You shrugged a shoulder and sent him a grin when he said nothing. When he looked away, you focused your attention back on the problem shoulder; it wasn’t immediately clear that it had been dislocated, the pauldron he wore hiding the jutting ball of the joint that was no doubt pressed uncomfortably against his flesh. What you could see was that his left side was hanging just a bit lower than his right, and the inability to move the arm was a dead giveaway.

“Are you just going to stare at it or actually do what you said you would when you barged onto my ship?” The rasp was closer to you as he turned his head, the rumble of his voice decidedly deeper than you remembered last time. Or perhaps it always had been, and you just hadn’t been paying enough attention, more focused on the very real threat of having a dead body on your hands as the poison spread. You rolled your eyes; or it was all the short and biting commands he only seemed to know how to give as opposed to actually speaking that made you forget the voice. The man could be attractive, if he wasn’t so frustrating.

“I can’t see it properly.” You replied, agitated with him again. He got under your skin too easily, and ruined your cool demeanor.

“You dealt with the problem just fine before.” He snapped back, pain making him cranky.

“You didn’t have a bone out of place last time!” You stopped yourself, sucking in a breath before releasing it to prevent yourself from snapping again.

“At least,” you bartered, “let me remove the pauldron. I can feel around the duraweave to get an idea. I won’t see any more of you than I did last time.”

He didn’t say anything again for a time and honestly, he was the slowest person you’d ever met at receiving emergency medical care. Half the men you treated during the Rebellion would yell until you’d taken care of the worst of their injuries before they even considered if it was what they wanted or not.

“Fine.” Was all he responded, making no move to remove the offending piece so you took that as your cue to feel around the curved metal cautiously, feeling where it attached to his duraweave and releasing it into your hands before placing it down on a separate crate.

“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” A warning growl echoed in the hull, turning you back to your task with a hum.

It seemed the joint had popped forward, no doubt from caving in as Teff collided with Mando’s shoulder. You leaned forward, your fingers feeling around the area as gently as you could while his breathing came out a little shorter. You sent him an apologetic smile.

“I’m going to have to ask you to stay still, okay? Usually I’d have someone to hold—”

“I can keep myself still, just do it.” He snapped finally, turning to look at you before he looked away again. You said nothing more as you took his gloved hand in yours, turning the forearm over and feeling the hand clench in yours when he hissed.

“Shh, nearly there.” You soothed, moving your hand under his elbow to lift it so it was aligned with Mando’s shoulder. You stood, keeping the arm in place and twisting yourself to stand facing his side.

You were definitely out to get him. There was no other explanation for why he only seemed to be seriously injured in your presence. Din tried to tell himself he was being over-dramatic and irrational, that you hadn’t even been on the same planet when he was injured the first time, but then you opened your mouth and he felt justified in his petulant thoughts.

“On three.” He heard you warn and all he could offer was a single nod; the sooner he got this over with the better.

“One…” You jerked the arm forward and slipped the joint back into place quickly with a sickening crack and searing pain took his breath away before it began to ebb immediately.

“DANK…. FERRICK!” Din yelled as his good arm reached across to grip his left, bending forward as he breathed through the flash of pain. You moved out of his way, waiting for him to look back up at you through the helmet, deep pants making his chest heave. You cocked your head to the side when his eyes found yours, a clear question there.

He groaned as he sat back, leaning his head against the hull, “It… doesn’t hurt as much anymore.” He admitted, thinking that the smile you gave him was somewhat worth the knock to his ego at having to admit such a thing in the first place. And like last time, before he could even worry about the concerning direction that thought had led to, you were fluttering about opening crates and bins as if you owned the place.

“What the hell—” he made to stand indignantly.

“Do you have any spare cloth?” You interrupted, “Your arm needs to be bound for a few days. If you have bacta it might reduce the healing time a bit but honestly, I don’t think dislocations can be rushed despite recent studies. Rushing back to heavily lifting or activity for at least six weeks is a sure way to hurt yourself again.”

You were rambling now as you set a pile of disused yet clean cloth you found on your lap, sitting across from him as he just blinked at this enigma of a woman. Giving him orders in his own ship, were you daft?

Your eyes sharpened and shot to his and he was suddenly glad you couldn’t see behind his mask. His eyes had widened guiltily at the thought that you had read his mind.

“You will do what you’re told, understand Mando?” You warned as your fingers tied a loose sling from strips of cloth you’d pulled apart without even having to look at it, deft fingers looping the material and strengthening it with several more layers woven in for good measure.

“If you insist on getting injured so often, you live with the consequences. And the consequences are doing what you’re fucking told and being happy about it, got it? Sulk if you want, so long as you keep the arm bound and don’t take on any jobs for at least two months.”

He opened his mouth a few times at the audacity, did she have a death wish? He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had spoken to him as if he were no more than a child and it made his blood boil. But just as quickly as the anger arose, it simmered as she muttered while watching her fingers tie off the sling,

“You don’t actually seem like a bad guy, and the galaxy can’t afford to lose anymore… not bad guys.” She seemed unsure of giving out even this level of praise but then again, she only had their first encounter to go by.

He grunted; not sure how to respond. And when Din was uncomfortable, he resorted to silence.

You got to your feet once the sling was suitably strong enough to support the weight of his arm without unravelling or breaking and you indicated to him, “May I?”

He jerked his head up in affirmation and you maneuvered the sling to sit correctly under his elbow and forearm, coaxing him to lift it slightly with a tap before you looped the tied end over his helmet, adjusting the length slightly to fit against him.

“You left Klatooine.” the statement rose from the warrior, his tone quieter than you’d heard him all day. Was he... trying to make conversation? Din told himself that it was merely out of curiosity from seeing you by chance on two totally different planets.

Blinking in surprise, you sat back on the crate in front of him, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back on one of your hands, “New Republic stopped funding the clinic and I realized that they’re all the same when it comes to the Outer Rim.”

He snorted in agreement, honestly, he wasn’t surprised to hear the New Republic had cut their losses on charity. It wasn’t in their nature to funnel money away from the Core planets.

“But it’s not all bad,” you continued, “I work with a doctor here. He’s old now so he should be enjoying his retirement. I’m kept busy and…”

He watched you while he waited for you to finish, surely there was more? But when you just shrugged and sent him a tight smile, he felt an uncomfortable niggle at the back of his neck, a familiarity that made him almost want to smile back even if you couldn’t see it. Almost. But not quite. He was unnerved at the… empathy he had for your situation. He too just… kept busy. It wasn’t towards any end beyond supporting the covert and the foundlings there. But for himself, he just kept working towards some translucent, non-existent goal, one job ended, and another began.

Something in your eyes told him you were doing the exact same thing. It unnerved him to think about.

“Echoy’la…” the word left him without knowing and you blinked,

“Hm?”

He shook his head and stood, grunting a bit at the ache in his shoulder when it jostled a bit, “Nothing. It seems I owe you my thanks again, demon medic.”

“I do have a name you know.” You snorted, letting the previous topic go as it seemed to just make him more awkward and grumpy than he already was. You packed away the medikit and replaced the unused cloth back where you found it.

“Somehow I don’t think it’ll be as fitting.”

“Whatever, sunshine.” You looked over your shoulder at him, the sling looking so out of place as he hooked a thumb in the utility belt he wore. It was amazing that he could still look as intimidating as he did. You gathered your things and started down the ramp leisurely. He followed you silently until he was standing at the entrance to the ship.

“Demon or not… thank you.” He called out as your feet hit the dusty ground of Mynock once again. You looked back over your shoulder and gave a single wave, calling something back to him that did make him smile behind his helmet this time.

As you disappeared into the streets of Mynock, he tested the name you had thrown back to him, rolling the syllables, and testing the vowels as he repeated it to himself.

Pity, he thought. He hated being wrong about anything, but somehow, your name was a much better fit than demon medic.

Not that he would ever admit that to you, of course.

Taglist:

@geannad @ayamenimthiriel​ @sarahjkl82-blog​

#the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin fanfic #din djarin fic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x you #mando x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #mando #din djarin #din djarin imagine #mando imagine #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fic

[trivialbob]

Is it OK to freeze candy for next year?

A drawback of working at home is not being able to bring leftover Halloween candy to the office. In years past people did this. Several office denizens eagerly Hoovered up tiny candy bars, Smarties and other treats that covered a breakroom table. It was nature’s way of ensuring no chocolate went to waste.

Recently I picked up some people at the airport. I arrived at the proper door just as they walked out of the terminal. No circling around, no waiting in the cell phone lot. I wish I could be that precise with Halloween candy. It would make me happy as a three-legged man at an ass-kicking contest if the last two pieces of candy went in the last kid’s bucket.

Speaking of working, I have a project manager who takes colors seriously. We had a meeting. Turns out I was using an incorrect shade of blue on one particular font. My use of bold lettering was spot on, but the hue needed adjustment.

I shared my screen so the PM could walk me through it. First thing I did was open Word’s font color menu. There are ten standard colors.

“No, Bob, not those.”

Oh, more nuance. Above the boring standard selections are 50 color choices.

“No, Bob, not those either.”

Ah, we’re going to the More Colors selection. I don’t have the patience to count the selections. They are not in an X-Y grid. I was directed how to move my mouse.

“Over to the right, over more, more, good. Now move your cursor down, down, down. There! That’s the shade we are using in that section of the test script.”

This morning I voted in my local election. I don’t think I’ve ever darkened a circle for any school board candidate before today. I’m curious if the school board races see more voters this year.

For city council we now have ranked choice voting. There were very clear instructions in the newspaper on how to select candidates. I think the poll worker who handed me my ballot was relieved when I said I knew what to do. She didn’t get it though when I asked for a pen in a different shade of black. She wasn’t in my earlier meeting so it was completely lost on her.

#I really didn't mind finding that color #Once you select it it will be easily available for the next change

[misterewrites]

Intro to.....????

Hello everyone! Been awhile. It's been busy and really hot for me so it's hard for me to sit down to write sometimes.

But it's here!

E here with the next chapter and the final intro character chapter! The intro chapters were supposed to introduce everyone to the main and important characters of the story, who will be driving the main plots and stories though sometimes i might use new characters or different background characters. So beyond this chapter will be more worldbuilding, story arcs and oneshots. just stories about this world and its characters. I might even use some of my friends ocs i accidentally convinced them to make for my world. It was so much fun!

Alright that's it for me! Stay safe, wash your hands, wear your masks, take care of your loved ones, get vaccinated if you can, push to release the vaccine worldwide and have a great week! Enjoy! feel free to leave likes, feedback *I love feedback and comments even if it's just a line you liked or a scene you found awesome or funny* reblogs and tell your friends! Promoting myself still feels weird haha. E is out! Byeeeeee

If you want an easier time to read the story and since I’ve been shadow banned from tumblr for like ever now, here’s the newest chapter on ao3 right over here! 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/82583164

If you are interested in my work and want to read from the beginning check it right here  https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/75486005

Interested in my full catalog? https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrE42/works

Summary: Jackdaw is a powerful crime lord in the magical side of Newton Haven. He is feared more than respected and he doesn't care who he has to crush to accomplish his goals. So when his lucrative club is burned to the ground with his guards piled neatly outside, battered broken but alive, he takes it personally. Of course who is crazy enough to burn down a club of a notoriously dangerous crimeboss? A mercenary paid to do so. 

Obviously.

----------

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

The sound of footsteps pacing back and forth thundered throughout the silent room.

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

No one said anything. No one could say anything given the disastrous failure of the night. It hadn’t mattered if they were physically present at the site of offense or that they were scattered across town in one of many locations vital to the boss’s business: Someone hit them and the boss was itching to hit back.

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

“Alright” A voice spoke up, smooth yet cold.

The room was already quiet but now the air filled with a frighten tension.

The boss whirled around from the massive window he’d been staring out of, eyes narrowing on the defeated group of guards who averted their gaze from his.

The few still conscious were in varying states of dishevel and injured: Broke bones, nasty bruises, clothing ruffled and torn in places. Not a single one had gone unscratched from the assault on the club earlier that night.

Jackdaw was not pleased.

No one in the room knew much about their boss despite devoting their lives to his cause: He was in his mid 30’s, his nose uneven after being broken in a fight though no one could agree what he had been fighting. Long wavy raven black hair ran down his shoulders while his dark brown eyes glanced about, icy and piercing.

“I’m a little confused.” Jackdaw said with a menacing drawl as he approached the closest guard “Mind answering a few for me?”

The guard nodded shakily.

Jackdaw smiled, patting the guard’s cheek in a mocking manner “Good, good. Now let me paint the picture: My club is currently a smoky, charred corpse of its former self. Yes?”

The guard gave another timid nod.

Jackdaw puckered his lips thoughtfully “Okay, okay. How many guards on duty?”

“8.” The guard murmured fearfully.

“Okay. How many standing?”

The guard shot a nervous glance to the other three. They found the floor more interesting.

“F-four.”

Crack!

The guard’s limp body tumbled backwards and laid still on the ground.

Jackdaw flexed his fingers “Wrong! I count three. You!”

The next in line flinched but stared their boss in the face “Sir?”

“Since that one.” Jackdaw lazily motioned to the unconscious man “is sleeping on the job, you tell me what happened.”

“O-okay.” The next in line mumbled “Well the night started same as any other….”

----------

The Gray Waves nightclub brought in a decent crowd for a weekday: Dozen or so people lost in the dim shadows with only a disorienting array of ever changing lights for company. Drinks served and the booming, thundering sounds of music set the chaotic mood clubs thrived on.

Nice peaceful night.

Floyd, the current storyteller, had been watching from the second floor landing when he noticed the gathering of guards below. The eight guards on duty were often out and about performing their different duties ranging from gate keeping the door to making sure nothing disturbed the vibe of the club. The fact five of his coworkers were huddled together should’ve been the first red flag.

The group talked in hushed tones despite the deafening bass and techno music the DJ’s speakers blared out. Once or twice, someone glanced to the far end of the club. Floyd looked and found the source of meeting.

Someone in their forties was loudly drinking at the counter tucked in the shadowy part of the club: It was impossible to tell who they were from this distance but they clearly were enjoying themselves: Head tiled back with messy, wavy salt and pepper hair. They gestured to the bartender (A wonderful woman named Carolyn who unfortunately had school debt to pay off and mob work was the best paying.) excitedly as their drink spilled onto the floor. They wore a large, tattered dark green trench coat that had seen better decades with faded worn out blue jeans. Their black boots were caked with grime and dirt that dirtied the floor. The only thing remotely new was their black t-shirt with some words in white font.

Floyd understood what the problem was: Clubs thrived on their popularity and image. People wanted to feel like they were special, all access stars to the hottest place in the city. With such a reputation came a mighty need to uphold said rep. No offense to whoever was having fun over there but with that look, it might send the wrong message and no amount of cash would ever change that.

Evidently a plan was reached as the meeting broke up. Two guards remained behind, returning to watching the room as the pit boss made his way over to the hapless customer, flanked with back up.

It was oddly satisfying watching the pit boss work: He gracefully slid in and out of crowds, slipping through the lost dancers like a snake treading through water. He motioned to the others to wait then made his way to the person.

The person was singing something at the top of his lungs. Drink, clink or something like that. Maybe it was the song playing at the time but Floyd hadn’t been paying attention to that at the time.

Trench Coat slipped Carolyn something and she laid a bottle of alcohol on the counter beside them: Vermouth? Absente? Vodka? One of those probably.

She nodded gratefully and disappeared into the back.

Floyd frowned at the red flag number two he had just seen: Carolyn was a pretty woman and was told more or less to just do as the customer asked be it answering questions or a reasonable request that wasn’t too out of the ordinary. Of course this was with the strict rule of not to leave the counter unattended.

At the time Floyd thought it was weird, not yet realizing what was about to unfold.

The person poured the bottle directly into their mouth, shaking their body to the catchy beat poorly. Whoever they were could not dance to save their life.

The pit boss, Malcolm, closed the distance between himself and his prey. He snuck closer and closer, the unaware customer too lost in their antics to noticed. Malcolm reached out for their shoulder and…

The thud was loud enough to cut through the noisy club and got the attention of everyone present.

Before Malcolm could even tighten his grip, the person struck: They whirled around, grabbing Malcolm’s head and smashing it into the counter. As Malcolm sunk to the floor, limp and unmoving, the person turned to shoot a smug grin towards the guards.

“I’m on the floor, floor! I love to dance!” They sang, one hand outstretched to the sky, the other gripping the bottle upside and draining its contents onto the counter.

The back up drew their weapons, standard issue nightsticks, and made their way forward.

“So give me more, more, till I can’t stand.”

They emptied the bottle, their green eyes never leaving the approaching guards.

“Get on the floor, floor, like it’s your last chance.”

They chucked the empty bottle into the wall of drinks, broken glass and different alcoholic drinks spilling onto the floor and mixing together.

“If you want more, more, then here I am!”

They pulled a match from within their coat pocket and lit it with the backside of their boot. Without looking, they threw the match over their shoulder and smiled as a raging flame broke out behind them.

The club goers were slow to realize what was going on but the remaining guards, Floyd included, mobilized to action.

Before anyone could react, however, an unexpected shrill shrieked throughout the building: The fire alarm designed to be the most annoying and loudest thing you’ve ever heard.

Even though it had been a slow night and only a dozen or so people were here, the customers panicked with a surge of three times that number.

Screams and yells filled the air as bodies shuffled about in a mad dash. The guards were thrown about, tossed this way and that while the lights, alarm and music worked together to confuse everyone.

Luckily the club was deserted within moments, leaving only security and the troublemaker.

The person hadn’t moved an inch despite the increasingly raging blaze behind them.

The back up pair approached carefully, unsure what this person was capable of.

All of them really had no idea.

The person raised their hand to the sky, belting with full force “LET’S DO THIS ONE MORE TIME!”

Without warning, silence and darkness filled the club: The fire alarm and music died suddenly. The lights followed a moment later but the raging flames, growing hungrily, remained. Floyd’s eyes watered with a sharp pain, the stuffy air and sudden shift in lighting too much for him

Floyd paused his story, uneasy growing at the sight of Jackdaw’s tightened jaw. The poor lad could actually see the veins pulsing with barely contained rage on his boss’s forehead.

“And why did the power go out?” Jackdaw asked through clenched teeth “No one was watching the power? Or the fusebox? Not a single person was guarding what I pay them to guard?”

Floyd remained silent, unsure how to answer that. He was just one of the lower rank and file guards: He got told what to do and he did it.

“Well? I’m waiting Floyd my boy! Why did the power go out?”

Floyd felt the beads of sweat run down his neck.

“Umm sir?”

Floyd nearly collapsed as one of Jackdaw’s techies nervously stepped forward, a loaded video on a tablet in hand.

Jackdaw blew a loose strain of hair out of his face and took a moment to slick back his hair. The vain gesture was enough to allow him to regain some level of composure as he snatched the tablet from the techie. With a grunt, he pressed play.

The video was short: It was a camera feed set up to watch over the fusebox to prevent tampering. Two guards were gesturing to the box, idly chatting with somebody in a red jumpsuit with a clipboard in one hand and a toolbox in the other. The back of uniform had the words “Newton Haven City Maintenance” scrawled across it in some rather hard to read font. The guards laughed out loud, jokingly patting the stranger’s shoulder before leaving frame. The city worker opened the fusebox and began tinkering without anyone stopping him.

The tablet crunched nosily as Jackdaw’s grip sent a ripple of cracks across the screen.

He turned to the techie.

“It was a routine check up.” the techie sputtered out “Our guards called it in this afternoon. Said there was an official letter with stamps and signatures and everything!”

“Did you check with me?” Jackdaw snarled “Because I pay the city specifically so they don’t send anyone to the club. Because of my illegal business practices that I perform there.”

Floyd could see the techie’s shoulder slump, whispering quietly “You were in a meeting….”

Jackdaw growled furiously but returned his attention to the nearly broken tablet.

It hadn’t taken more than a few minutes for the mysterious city maintenance worker to finish. They slammed the fusebox closed, doing a little jig before checking the contents of their toolbox and went on their merry little way.

Jackdaw’s blood froze as the figure gave a cheeky wink to the camera, knowing exactly where it was despite the magical wards in place to keep it invisible.

“Savant.”

An eerie emptiness replaced the hostility in the room.

The fight disappeared out of Jackdaw, leaving only an intense sense of dread and paranoia.

All this was lost on Floyd, who saw the troublemaker’s face and couldn’t help but blurt out “That’s them! The one who beat up Malcolm and burned the club down!”

Jackdaw chuckled darkly “Oh. Oh this makes sense. No one wonder you all get your ass kicked six ways to Sunday. Someone sic’d Savant on me. Ya’ll never had a chance against them.”

Floyd shuddered, the memory of how brutal and efficient Savant had been against them: Grown men dragged kicking and screaming into the shadows, the crunchy noises of bones broken, bodies falling down and yells stopped mid-shout. He still remembered Savant standing over him, nightstick in hand, whistling cheerfully as they brought down the weapon and sent him into unconsciousness.

“Alright!” Jackdaw clapped his hands “Lock it down!”

Everyone glanced towards one another, unsure what exactly the boss meant.

“LOCK IT DOWN!” the snarl that escaped Jackdaw’s lips sent goosebumps down everybody’s spine “NOW! I WANT THIS PLACE SEALED UP NICE AND TIGHT!”

“But we’re 14 stories up...”

Techie flinched as Jackdaw whirled around, eyes blazing with unrestrained rage and impatience “You deaf? I said lock down the building or so help me I’m going to use you as a human shield when they start coming for me.”

Techie opened his mouth when an unexpected sound filled the silence: A muffled, cheeky yet tacky melody of a cellphone ringing.

Glances and gazes looked about trying to find the source of the disturbance. Floyd was baffled when he realized it was coming from inside his coat pocket. Nervously, he reached within and slowly pulled out a palm sized flip phone, the kind hadn’t been used in decades.

Jackdaw’s eyes widened with fear and alarm as he snatched the phone from the poor guard with inhuman speed.

“It’s them!” Jackdaw’s voice was manic “IT’S THEM!”

The mobster was torn about what to do next: Answering meant playing right into Savant’s hands and whatever the mercenary had plan. On the other hand, not answering would no doubt annoy them into far worse retaliation.

With a hard shallow, Jackdaw answered with an uncharacteristically shy “Hello?”

He could feel his heart screech to a stop when a bored, almost nonchalant voice replied “S’up.”

Jackdaw threw as much charm and cheer into his voice “Savant, buddy! Pal!”

“Don’t.” the voice sighed tiredly “It’s pathetic when the begging start. You’re a big, bad mob boss. Act like it you dumbass.”

“Fine” Jackdaw let go of any sense of civility “Good old threats: if you so much as show your face around…”

“Ugh too much in the wrong direction” Savant replied, seemingly uninterested in what the mob boss had to said “You people are all the same: False bravado and overcompensating. It’s embarrassing. Just say you’re scared of me and we can move on.”

Despite the severity of the situation, Jackdaw couldn’t help but feel irritated “Oh is that what you want? Get your jollys when powerful people admit they’re afraid of you? You think you can….you can…”

Jackdaw paused, unsure if his ears were working correctly.

“Are you eating?”

“Hmm??” the sound of smacking lips and chewing was the mercenary’s response for a few moments “Oh yeah. Get hungry when working. Normally I’d be all for the theatrics but it’s been a long night what with fucking with your fusebox, burning down your club, planting the phone on a guard. It’s like 3 in the morning dude.”

Jackdaw bit his lip angrily, a single drop of blood running down his chin “It is 3 in the morning and I’m very tired so I’d very much like to conclude our business. How much?”

“To hire me?” more lip smacking “An amount. You could probably afford it.”

Jackdaw let his shoulder’s sag with relief “So it’s agreed? I’ll hire you and we can all be on our merry way.”

“Sure!” Savant said cheerfully.

Bullet dodged.

“You can hire me after I finish this job. By the way did you like the gift I sent you?”

Gift?

Jackdaw was a powerful and feared member of the illicit side of the magical world. He climbed to his position through sheer force of will and power. He left countless of his enemies broken and defeated in his wake.

To see him reduced to a flailing, paranoid mess would be a story no one would believe.

“GIFT?!” Jackdaw screamed, unable to keep the high-pitch whine out of his voice “WHAT GIFT?! SOMEONE FUCKING ANSWER ME!”

The techie was the first to shake off their stupor “Well there was a box that came in today. It was empty and we detected no magic so…”

“Box?!” Jackdaw spat as he wildly searched the room before landing on the seemingly innocent box just sitting on his desk “You brought it the fuck here?”

Everyone backed away.

“I…”

“Wait” Jackdaw cut off the techie’s answer “Maybe they were hoping you’d take it somewhere or get rid of it. No, no this is good. We’re outwitting the fucker.”

“Sir, the box was empty. And you told use you personally wanted to inspect any and all….”

“You hear that asswipe!” Jackdaw grinned ear to ear “My people are the best! We’re ahead of you. Your game is over, you hear me?”

“My man.” Savant’s voice was infuriatingly calm “It’s just a regular old box for a boring ass mobster.”

“Stop lying!” Jackdaw roared angrily, instinctively bringing down his fist on the closet object in the room.

Which of course was the box.

The parcel collapsed under the mobster’s supernatural strength with little effort. As the box was smashed, the two inert glyph drawn in an invisible ink on both ends collided and activated each other.

The room erupted in an array of dazzling, blinding lights.

The light show hadn’t lasted long but no one knew that as they stumbled around, disoriented and lost, the display still burned in their retinas.

Jackdaw howled violently, swiping at the air blindly with long talon-like nails. Any calls for explanations or help were lost under the raging mobster unleashed.

Jackdaw didn’t hear the window break, the sound of glass shattering as it rained upon the floor. He didn’t see the muzzle flash that flared across the street, Savant’s sniping perch. He knew nothing but the sudden searing pain that filled his shoulder without warning.

Everything drained out of him, he slumped to the floor like a doll. He weakly clutched at his shoulder, steam wafting off the wound as the sliver bullet dug itself deep in its new home.

It didn’t matter what kind of werebeast you were: Wolf, bear, rat or even a raven like Jackdaw. All them were deathly weakened by sliver. The mere smell could cause nausea, touch burned worse than third degree burns and any injuries could take weeks, maybe even months to heal.

Jackdaw wheezed, the room spinning in a messy blur.

“Right.” the phone landed by his ear but Savant’s voice sounded far off like it was echoing down a long tunnel “Sorry I got the paper right here.”

Muted sounds of pockets being turned inside out: Scraping of metal on brick, shuffling papers, even rustling fast food wrappers.

“Got it!” Savant beamed “Quinn says stay the fuck off his turf. Mind your lane or the next time he sends me I won’t be aiming for your shoulder.”

“How did you know I was...I was… no one knew...?” Jackdaw murmured incoherently.

“Your heart.” Savant explained “It’ll be your heart. Okay well I gotta go so take these next few months to reflect on any sort of ill advised turf wars, domestic disputes and fighting with your rivals. If you’re still interested in hiring me for revenge or whatever, you call me at my business payphone. Bye little birdy!”

----------

Savant dropped the phone to the floor, crushing it under their boot while rubbing the tension out of their neck. Around them was the standard stakeout gear: high powered and totally illegal sniper rifle, a neatly piled trash heap and a sniping pillow (Sniping’s hard on the stomach and knees.).

They packed away the gun, kicked the trash heap to make it look more like natural rooftop garbage and went downstairs.

Savant yawned tiredly, not at all concerned with the guards that were pouring out of Jackdaw’s hidey hole. They glanced around, trying to get their bearings when they noticed a hot dog vendor across the street.

“I really shouldn’t” they pursed their lips “Especially after paying for someone to set up the pyrotechnics spells. But I am hungry. Stomach wins!”

Savant made their way over, patting their stomach lovingly “One hotdog please. Everything on it.”

“You got it!” The vendor nodded before eyeing the commotion “What’s with that?”

“I don’t talk business.”

“O-kay. Umm here’s your hotdog. That’ll be two bucks.

Savant reached into their pocket and shoved a hundred dollars into the waiting vendor’s hand. Without a second look, Savant gratefully took the hotdog and walked away.

“Hey buddy! BUDDY! You gave me way too much!”

“You too!” Savant replied, took caught up in the rapture that was their meal.

This was a really fucking good hotdog.

#my work #Original Work #original story #my stuff