#couldn’t find this anywhere of course so i’m just going to post it myself….

[cithaerons]

♥️

#couldn’t find this anywhere of course so i’m just going to post it myself…. #kate wolf #old jerome #music #jerome #arizona

[bunni-v1]

Hii! If you request are open can I ask you a headcanon of Vil Schoenheit, from Twisted wonderland, in a romantic relationship with the reader who is a Kpop idol (not a soloist but in a group)?? Preferibly a fem reader. Thank you. Byeee!!

Vil with a K-pop idol partner

Tw: N/A (I think lol)

Info: Headcannons; Fem!Reader; Vil x Reader; Fluff

🍓Hi. This one is short and sweet, I didn’t want to drain myself of motivation to write. Especially since so many people are wanting more parts to my most recent post. Plus, I’m writing two essays for my classes this week, so it’s gonna be a bit rough to keep up that motivation. I really hope everyone enjoys this one, though. It’s always fun to do fluffy Vil content.

Vil Schoenheit

-You likely meet through an acting gig when you’re both freshmen in college. The two of you are cast as lovers, and everyone can feel the chemistry you have.

-Something between you two just clicks! You both lead similar lives and have similar interests. 

-And with the press on the movie and all the time you spend on set, it's inevitable that the two of you become close. 

-You don’t start dating immediately, though. In the world of acting and music, you have to be careful of who you’re dating and when you make that public.

-However, Vil always makes it to any shows you have anywhere near him. He adamantly promotes you and your group's music everywhere and praises any modeling and acting you do on the side.

-Fans speculate you’re together FAR before the two of you actually decide to become an official couple.

-Speaking of, the two of you keep your relationship very private at the start. You each have access to the other schedule and plan dates at least once a week, and they’re always in private places.

-It’s both to protect your reputation and to ensure that your relationship won’t be warped by fans.

-Neither of you announce that you’re a couple until at least four months in, and before that, you don’t even give hints that you two may be together.

-The press has an absolute blast with you two. Finding every thread of evidence of your relationship until the day you both announce it publicly. 

-When you do announce it, your fans gobble it up like crazy. I’m talking edits, fan art, fan accounts, the whole nine yards. 

-But all that aside, what’s your relationship like?

-Simply put: Complex.

-It’s not unhealthy by any means, it’s just very different from a typical relationship you see in day-to-day life.

-Both of you are very busy. You with performing and all that comes with it, and Vil will his college courses at Nightraven.

-It takes a lot more work than the typical relationship, but with Vil’s dedication, it all works out in the end.

-Vil always ensures that he has free time for you. Whether that be visiting you off campus, having private dates in his dorm room, or video calling after a long day of classes.

-He makes the time for you. He has your schedule memorized, and always has a workaround so the two of you can stay in contact as much as possible.

-If and when he is able to, he visits you at your shows.

-His favorite thing to do is surprise you before you go on stage, take over your makeup and dressing team jobs, and pretty you up for the crowd.

-He always says you shine more when he’s the one doing it.

-He’s always in the front row, singing along to the lyrics — even if he can’t understand what they mean.

-He knows every line to every one of your songs, and he listens to and sings them proudly when he’s alone.

-Furthermore, after the two of you go public, he’s even more intense with his promotion of your music.

-He posts himself listening/singing along to your music, buying and wearing your merchandise, and attending the concerts.

-You’d think he might be a little jealous of your popularity, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

-He always says that you’re one of his greatest inspirations, and how proud he is to call himself your partner.

-In fact, your performances were actually a huge inspiration for the VDC, and he asked you and your group for help with the choreography and lyrics.

-Speaking of your group, he makes sure he has a great relationship with each and every one of your group members. 

-If one of them is bothering you, he’ll be sure to say something, but for the most part, all of your friends really like him.

-It’s honestly not all that different from a normal relationship with him, just a little more work to keep in touch with him.

-He’s honestly your biggest fan, and he adores you and every single thing you do wholeheartedly.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader

[ambrossart]

Post Prom

summary: after leaving prom, you and eddie go to the hideout to reminisce and listen to music. one thing leads to another, and you end up going back to his trailer.

pairing: eddie munson x dwm!reader word count: 6,320 warnings: sfw, new relationship, eddie being awkward, eddie being adorable, eddie being romantic, eddie being obsessed with his guitar, lots of fluff, two-part story

This short story is the epilogue to Dancing with Myself. For proper context, I highly suggest you read that before reading this. It's 10 chapters long and a fairly quick read.

The stars had never shone as brightly as they did that night.

You couldn’t stop staring at them as you walked out of the banquet hall with Eddie by your side, with his suit jacket draped over your bare shoulders, feeling more and more like it was always meant to be there.

“This looks better on you anyway,” Eddie had said as he offered it to you. “Just don’t get it dirty, ‘kay, or else Wayne’ll kill me. It’s his one good suit.”

“I’ll guard it with my life,” you promised, only half joking. 

And while you thought about this, while you traced your thumb along the silk lining of Wayne Munson’s one good suit jacket, while you walked and talked and stole glimpses of Eddie’s face when he wasn’t looking, you couldn’t help but smile and say to yourself,

I’m in a dream, aren’t I?

Yeah, you had to be. The stars were far too bright, and the night too calm. Cars drove up and down the road and passed by without a sound. In the wet, wet grass, crickets chirped and a single sprinkler was still sputtering with life, hissing in the dark with a quiet shhhh-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick. You could hear it so clearly as you and Eddie strolled down the covered footpath together, your shadows illuminated by the soft orange glow of the street lights overhead. Eddie had a ring of keys in his right hand. They jingled as he tossed them up, caught them, and twirled them around his index finger.

I’m in a dream, you thought, and tomorrow morning I’m gonna wake up in my bedroom, alone, with that dusty old journal sprawled open in front of me.

And this made you withdraw into yourself and go silent for a minute. Your steps got slower and slower. Your smile slipped and collapsed into a troubled frown that deepened the further you got from the banquet hall. Eddie glanced over his shoulder, saw you falling behind, then slid his keys back into his pocket.

“Buyer’s remorse?” he said with a chuckle, but there was no humor in his voice, none at all. He turned and stepped in front of you, blocking your path with his body. “Hey, y’know we don’t have to go anywhere, right? I mean, we can always go back inside or… or I can just take you home, if you want.”

Eddie muttered the last part under his breath, wincing as he did. His dark brown eyes pierced into yours, nervous and a little afraid, afraid that if he said goodbye to you right now, if he took you home, kissed you goodnight, and watched you walk through that front door, there was a small chance he might never see you again.

And you supposed that was partly your fault, so you put your hand on his chest and gave him a reassuring smile.

“No, that’s not it,” you said. “I was just thinking.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows at you. “You were just… thinking?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Yeah, I was just thinking.”

If this really is a dream, please, please, please don’t wake me up.

You motioned toward the parking lot. “Lead the way, sir.”

Eddie cracked a small smile. “All right,” he said, and backed away from you with a little bounce in his step. “I’m, uhh, over here, so…”

You weaved through the crowded parking lot and found Eddie’s 1979 Chevy Nomad parked alone on the west end between a dying tree and a flickering lamppost. You held in a laugh. Oh jeez, you thought, of course he parks in the sketchiest spot he can find. If Ted Bundy had a reserved parking space in Hawkins, this would be it. It practically screamed, Yeah, you’re about to get napped.

Eddie seemed to notice this, too. He lingered by your side for a minute, then reached up to scratch his head. “Uhhh… there were other cars around when I parked here, just for the record.”

You looked up at him, fighting back a smile. “I wasn’t gonna say anything…”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed into a playful glare. “Yeah, you were.”

He went and opened the passenger-side door, and you busted out laughing when you saw his guitar case propped neatly against the front seat. This didn’t shock you nearly as much as it should have. If anything, you were more surprised that Eddie hadn’t strapped it safely into place with a seatbelt.

“So you let your guitar ride shotgun, huh?”

“Well, she is a lady,” Eddie replied, making you giggle.

“So, what, should I go sit in the back like cargo? Or do you wanna just rope me to the hood like a Christmas tree?”

Eddie leaned against the side of his van. “No, I’d never do that to you…” Then, with a self-amused smirk: “You can just hold her on your lap.”

Your eyes flattened into a hard line. Very funny, your eyes said.

Eddie chuckled quietly to himself, then stepped away from the van. “Just kidding, I’ll move her.”

Effortlessly, he lifted the guitar out of the front seat and put it in the back with the rest of his equipment, setting the instrument down on the floor with great care. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he said while stroking the top of its case. “You’re still my number one girl, okay?”

You rolled your eyes and climbed into the front seat. As soon as you sat down, something small poked your butt, making you jump up in surprise. It was a guitar pick, one of many scattered about Eddie’s van. You were finding them everywhere: under your feet, on the dashboard, in the ashtray, even wedged in the crack of the center console. You dug one out with your fingernail and threw it into the glove compartment.

“You know, you really need to clean out your van,” you said to Eddie as he slid into the driver’s seat.

“Uhh, yeah,” he said, “I’ve been meaning to get to that for about two years now.”

He closed the door and flashed you a charming smile.

“So… where would you like to go?”

“You didn’t have a place in mind when you asked me?”

“Honestly? No… I was kinda expecting you to say no.”

You both laughed. Then you looked away and caught your reflection in the side-view mirror. It felt so strange, being there. You had fantasized about sitting in this van at least a hundred times. Now here you were, digging plastic guitar picks out of your seat (you found another one and flicked it away). It was even better than you imagined.

“Well, it doesn’t really matter,” you said, giving Eddie a shy smile. “You can pretty much take me anywhere.”

“Anywhere,” Eddie repeated slowly, his brown eyes locked with yours. “That’s… very unhelpful.”

Smiling, he leaned back in his seat and thought about it for a minute. His right hand went up to rest on the steering wheel. His index finger started tapping rhythmically against it. In the silence, you were swiveling around in your chair. Eddie caught you out of the corner of his eye and laughed.

“Having fun over there?”

“Yeah,” you said while moving back and forth. “I like the swivel.”

“The swivel is fun,” Eddie said. “The swivel is fun…”

Then, slowly, his whole face lit up.

“I got it,” he said. “I know where we can go.”

He started the van and put it in reverse.

Soon after, Eddie was pulling up in front of the old auto parts store on the corner of Main and Oak.

The building was basically dilapidated at this point. The grass along the side was patchy and full of weeds. The blue exterior was badly faded, chipped, and covered with graffiti. In the large storefront window, beneath a tattered and weather-worn awning, a marquee reader board was still advertising a sale on tires from 1966. If not for the row of cars and motorcycles parked along the curb, if not for the music pouring out onto the street, you would have thought this was just another abandoned building.

Eddie got out first, walked around the front of the van, then opened the passenger-side door.

“Ready?” he said to you, his eyes shimmering with childlike excitement.

You went inside and were instantly transported to the 1950s… or at least Cliff Kozack’s twisted, apocalyptic vision of the 1950s. Old Halloween decorations lined the shelves: coffins, skulls, cobwebs (those were real, though; Cliff kept them because they matched his aesthetic—or he was just too lazy to dust). Guitars hung from the ceiling and fell occasionally, landing behind unsuspecting patrons with a startling thwack! Famous faces were plastered across the walls: Elvis Presley, Connie Francis, Chuck Berry, Buddy Holly, Sam Cooke, Ritchie Valens. All the chrome finishes were dull and rusted in the corners. The black-and-white checkered floor was grimy and sticky with spilled beer that nobody had ever bothered to mop up. In the corner, propped beside a dusty, broken jukebox that only played one song: “Rockin’ Robin” by Bobby Day (and God help you if you played that song), a skeleton dressed in a leather jacket was gesturing toward a sign that spelled out the night’s drink specials.

Except there were no drink specials, just cheap beer and booze.

Cliff poured a beer, slid it across the bar, and then saw you and Eddie walk in through the front door. His eyes widened in horror.

“Quick,” he said to one of his bartenders, “what day is it today?”

“Uhh… Saturday.”

“Saturday.” Cliff closed his eyes and breathed a heavy sigh. “God, I was really hoping I got my days mixed up.”

Then he poured himself a shot of bourbon.

Two, actually.

One for you and one for Eddie.

He slammed them back in two gulps.

Meanwhile, you and Eddie were heading into the lounge just off the main bar, where a psychobilly trio called the Killer Elvises was performing on stage. Their hair was greased and styled into matching pompadours. The lead singer plucked an upright double bass that was almost as tall as he was. And they played the kind of snarling, thrashing music that made you want to get up and punch someone in the face for no reason at all. You had been there for less than a minute and Eddie was already getting revved up.

“God, I love these guys,” he said, shouting over the music.

You two were making your way to a table in the back. It was your table, the one you sat at every Tuesday night. Eddie wanted to sit there specifically. He insisted on it.

“Y’know the lead singer used to only play classical music? Wasn’t even allowed to listen to anything else. Yeah, I guess his parents were like these super-religious zealots or something.”

You looked toward the stage, where the lead singer was currently singing about drinking blood under the full moon and having sex with a werewolf.

“Well, I’m sure his parents are very proud of him now.”

Eddie glanced back at you, a smile crawling up the side of his face. “Yeah. Probably.”

Then he pointed toward a table tucked away in the corner of the lounge, half hidden behind a massive stone pillar. From the stage, you could barely even see it.

“That it?” Eddie asked. You nodded and said it was.

You sat down and made yourself comfortable while Eddie stole the seat across from you. Then he propped his elbow on the table and laid his chin on his palm, gazing at you with his big brown eyes.

“So, uh, this is your table, huh? And, what, you would sit in that spot?”

You looked around you. “Uhh, yeah, pretty much… I mean, it’s not the exact spot, but—”

“Well, hold on,” Eddie said, “I’m pretty sure I asked for the full experience, so…”

He made a "go on" motion with his hand. In return, you made a funny face.

“Seriously?” you said.

Eddie nodded, his eyes soft and affectionate. “C’mon, humor me.”

You looked away, feeling all the blood rush to your face, then slowly got up and dragged your stool a couple more inches to the right. When you sat down again and turned your body ever so slightly, you had a completely unobstructed view of the stage.

“There,” you said in a flustered voice. “Happy now?”

But Eddie didn’t answer you, not for a long while. He kept staring at you, then at the stage, then back at you, his eyes darkening more and more with each pass. During this time, the Killer Elvises had transitioned to a slower, almost bluesy style. You were thankful for that. Otherwise, you might not have heard Eddie when he said,

“Hey, how many times did you come here?”

You shrugged. “I dunno.”

“Guess.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. Eddie’s abruptness made you a little uneasy.

“I dunno,” you said. “Twenty, maybe thirty times.”

Eddie dropped his head into his hand and cursed.

Your eyes widened. “What?” you said. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

Eddie rubbed his face in frustration. “Yeah, well, it’s a pretty big goddamn deal to me,” he said, sounding angry, but not at you. “Thirty times, Y/N, and that’s probably a modest estimate. You came to watch me thirty times, and I never noticed you. Never. Not once. How the hell did I not notice you?”

You shrugged your shoulders again. This time, they felt a little heavy.

“I guess you just weren’t looking,” you said, and Eddie stared at you with a guilty, helpless expression.

“Yeah, I was,” he said under his breath.

Then—

WHAM!

Two huge fists slammed onto the table, making you both jump.

“Well, well, well,” said Cliff, bringing his face down to your level, “look who’s here…”

“Hi, Cliff,” you said. “Hey, congratulations, by the way. You’ve got a real packed house tonight. I think there’s like fifty people here.”

Cliff’s lips curled into a hard, unamused smile.

“Hey, man, I keep telling you to get a sign for this place—”

“I don’t want a sign,” Cliff said to you. “Signs attract pests, and I’m still trying to get rid of the two I currently have.”

His eyes went to you, then to Eddie, then back to you.

“Hey, we’re like your only regulars… us and the guy that likes to sleep in that booth over there.” You gestured toward him with your chin. “You know, someone should really check on him soon ‘cause I haven’t seen him move in a while.”

“No, I kicked him a few minutes ago. He’s fine.” Then to Eddie, Cliff said, “I see you finally found your number-one fan. You know, she comes in here every Tuesday. Every Tuesday. The other night, I thought she was gonna start a bar fight.”

“Really?” Eddie gave you an impressed look that made you feel embarrassed.

You put both your hands on the table and sat up as tall as you could. “Hey, that’s… that’s not even…” With a huff, you sank back down and muttered under your breath, “I was trying to listen to the music. They wouldn’t stop talking.”

Cliff’s chest rose and fell with hearty laughter. “You hear that?” he said, clapping Eddie on the shoulder. “She was trying to listen to the music,” and for some reason that made Eddie smile and chuckle to himself.

Once Cliff returned to the bar, you turned to Eddie and said, “What, is that like an inside joke or something?”

Eddie was still smiling. “No, it’s just…” He pointed across the lounge. “You see that table over there?”

“Yeah… What about it?”

“When I was younger, my dad used to bring me here a lot. Yeah, he would, uhh, just drop me off here while he went and did… well… whatever he did.” He shrugged it off like it didn’t matter. “Anyway, I’d sit at that table… at that table… for hours and hours, just watching these guys play and wishing I could be as good as them one day. And, yeah, I would get really annoyed whenever people talked during my favorite parts.”

Now you were smiling, too. “That’s… really cute, actually,” and you both went quiet and listened to the band play for a while.

Halfway through the fourth song, while you watched the musician’s tattooed fingers fly across the frets of his hollow-body guitar, you couldn’t help but say, “He’s really good.”

Eddie said, “He’s very good…”

You glanced to your left and caught him watching the guitarist in silent awe, his mouth hanging open, eyes racing to keep up with every movement of the man’s fretting hand.

Stifling a giggle, you said, “You are green with envy right now.”

“I am…”

“You’re gonna go home and practice for like three hours, aren’t you?”

“Oh, at least,” Eddie said, giving you an adorable smile.

That’s when Cliff’s partner decided to drop by for a friendly little chitchat. The buxom brunette strutted up to your table with an empty drink tray and pressed it against her chest while she observed you and Eddie with a tender, motherly expression.

“Awww, well aren’t you two just the sweetest thing, sitting here all cozied up and adorable… I feel like I’ve been waiting half my life for this day to come.”

Cleo tossed you a girlish, not-so-well-hidden smile (Wow, you thought, it’s a miracle my secret lasted this long), then turned to Eddie and said, “You know, she’s been coming here every Tuesday for the last… God, I don’t even know… probably about three ye—”

Panic seized you. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Eddie’s lips twitch upwards, curling into a cocky smile.

You squeezed your eyes shut and blurted out, “Yeah, he knows, Cleo! He knows. How ‘bout you go get us some drinks?”

Cleo brushed you off with a laugh. “Oh fine, oh fine…” She lowered the tray to her side. “What can I get you two lovebirds?”

Eddie said, “I’ll just have a beer.”

And you said, “I’ll have a rum and Coke, with muddled cherries, garnished with cherries and some sugar around the rim. Make sure Cliff really grinds those suckers down, too. I don’t wanna see a bunch of cherry chunks floating around my glass.”

Cleo looked at you both tiredly, her lips gathering into a tight, uncomfortable smile. “Yeah… that’s gonna get old real quick.” Then she sighed and went back to the bar.

As soon as she was gone, Eddie looked at you and said, “Three years? Did I hear that right?”

You shook your head. “No, not three years. Nowhere near three years.”

There were, you were fairly sure, at least two occasions where you chose to stay home.

Because you were sick.

You immediately changed the subject: “So, anyway, when are you guys getting a new lead singer?”

“Nice segue,” Eddie said. Then: “Shit, I dunno, man… after Scottie got locked up, it just didn’t feel right to replace him. Plus we couldn’t find anyone, so…”

“I’ll do it,” you said. 

Eddie squinted at you. “Can you sing?”

“No… but neither can Scottie.”

Eddie laughed. “Fair enough.”

Then you leaned onto your elbows and said, “Any idea when he’s getting out?”

“Uhh…” Eddie stretched out his arms while he thought about it, rolled some of the tightness out of his neck and shoulders. “I think he gets released in like three months.”

“Damn,” you said. “Hard to believe it’s almost been a year.”

You suddenly remembered the last time you saw Scott Sloman. It was a few months before he graduated. Scottie came up to you after school and said he needed a favor.

God, he’s an idiot…

Who?

No one. Never mind.

You shook the memory away. “Shit, man, let that be a lesson: don’t go speeding through a school zone with a bunch of pot in your car. What the hell was he thinking, anyway?”

Eddie nodded slowly, his eyes taking on a distant sheen. “Yeah…”

And now, as you looked at him, a terrifying thought crossed your mind. It made your heart sick with dread. 

“That could’ve been you,” you said, and Eddie’s gaze plummeted to the floor.

Just then, a shiver rolled through you. You pulled Wayne's jacket tighter against you and tried not to think about that anymore.

“Okay, sweeties,” said Cleo as she returned with a tray of drinks. “I have one Shirley Temple with a side of maraschino cherries.” She set down a highball and a shot glass, then reached for the last glass on her tray. “And for you, sir… one Coke. Can I get you anything else?”

Eddie scowled at his beverage. “Where’s my beer?”

“Uhh, waiting for you to turn twenty-one.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and brought the glass to his lips. “Like I don’t drink already…”

And Cleo said, “Not in my bar, you don’t.”

She turned and walked away, but before she got too far, Eddie called out to her again: “Hey, Cleo, can we get some wings?”

Cleo looked back at him and sneered. “Is that supposed to be funny?”

Meanwhile, you chucked a maraschino cherry at Eddie’s head.

“What?” Eddie said to you with a mischievous smirk. “I just want some wings…” and he tipped his head to the side, dodging the next cherry you fired his way. “Hey, where’d you come up with that, anyway?”

“I dunno, I panicked,” you said. “I thought I’d been found out, and I needed to throw you off my scent.”

“With blueberry wings?”

“Blueberry barbecue wings, actually.”

“Yeah, what is that? Is that a real flavor or did you just make that up?”

“No, it’s real… I think.” You seriously considered it for a minute, then shrugged. “Yeah, I imagine it having this smoky-sweet kinda flavor. I’ve never had it before, but I feel like it’d be really delicious… that or really disgusting. Either way, I’d like to try it once before I die.”

“Noted,” Eddie said, and reached into your shot glass full of cherries.

Your jaw dropped as you watched him put the fruit between his teeth and gently, so gently, pluck it off the stem.

“Hey, you know how they say, umm, people who can tie cherry stems with their tongues are automatically good kissers? Yeah, turns out there is zero evidence to support any kind of correlation between the two. I mean, obviously, you must have pretty good muscle coordination to tie a cherry stem with only your tongue, but that says very little about how good you are at kissing. Yeah, it really just means you have a skilled…”

You closed your mouth, snatched your drink, and washed the rest of that sentence down your throat.

Eddie watched you, a smile tugging at his lips. “Makes sense,” he said. Then, in a low voice: “Can you do it?”

You set down your glass and wiped your lips. “Do what?”

“Tie a cherry stem with your tongue.”

You gulped. “Umm… I’ve never really tried, honestly, but probably not. I’m very not very coordinated in general, so I wouldn’t expect that skill to transfer.”

Eddie nodded. “I see,” he said while stealing another cherry from your glass. Before popping it into his mouth, he looked right at you and said, “Well, I can.”

Your whole body flushed. “H’okay…” you said as your mind raced with a million unbidden thoughts. You reached for your glass again and—“Hey, here’s a fun fact: did you know that grenadine isn’t actually made from cherries? It’s made from pomegranates.”

“That is a fun fact,” Eddie replied with an amused smile. “You wanna hear another fun fact?”

“Tell me.”

“Your face is about as red as your drink right now.” Eddie propped his chin on his fist and raised his eyebrows suggestively. “Fun fact.”

Your blush deepened. “Oh,” you said.

Then you looked down at the table and thought, God strike me down, I’m a filthy fucking pervert.

The band stopped playing around twelve-thirty. Afterward, the members packed up their instruments and returned to the lounge to drink and play cards with a few of Cliff’s off-the-clock employees. By then, most of the Saturday night crowd had already moved on, leaving only Cliff’s regular clientele: some college kids, a couple bikers, but mostly just a bunch of old guys that wanted to drink quietly at the bar and be left alone. Those were Cliff’s favorite kind of people. He kept their glasses full and they kept to themselves. They were the perfect patrons.

Then there was the Munson kid.

“Hey…” Eddie came up to the bar and started drumming his hands on the counter. “Just outta curiosity, who do you have up next?”

“Nobody,” Cliff said while he cleaned the soda gun. “Nobody else signed up.”

“Interesting,” said Eddie. He reached into his pocket and slammed two twenty-dollar bills on the counter. “How much time will that get me?”

Cliff glanced at the meager offering. “Five minutes.”

“Five minutes?” God, that greedy bastard. Eddie threw his head back and groaned an all-too-familiar groan. “C’mon, man, I’m trying to impress a girl here.”

In response, Cliff pressed his massive palms onto the counter, leaned forward, and gave Eddie an intense, unblinking stare.

“You’re trying to impress a girl?”

“Yep.”

“That girl?”

“Mhm.”

Cliff exhaled deeply through his nose. “Okay, kid, lemme tell you a little something about that girl. She comes in here every Tuesday just to watch your shitty band play shitty music. When you guys suck, she gives me hell for it. She says I need to invest in a better sound system.”

“Well,” Eddie muttered under his breath, “you do need a better sound system. That thing’s a piece of shit.”

Cliff arched his eyebrow, daring him to continue. Eddie waved his hands in surrender and stopped talking.

“What I’m saying is… I dunno how the hell you did it, kid, but clearly you’ve already done enough to impress her.”

Cliff’s words sank in deep, making Eddie’s heart feel warm and full. He leaned against the bar and observed you for a moment, while you sat and sipped your drink at the table (and probably, secretly, tried to tie a few cherry stems with your tongue, just to see if you could do it). Then he turned back to Cliff with a huge smile.

“Yeah, but I still kinda wanna do it, so…” Eddie placed his finger on the stack of paper bills and slid it further across the counter. “How much?”

Cliff sighed and slapped his hand over the cash. “Okay, Romeo, you’ve got twenty minutes.”

Eddie pumped his fist in victory, spun around, and went marching back to your table.

“Hey,” he said once he reached you, “wanna be my roadie?”

Your eyes were skeptical, but also curious. “Sure.”

And now Eddie was dragging the guitar strap over his head while you sat on the stage with your legs dangling over the edge, barefooted, your heels resting beside you. He switched on his amp and reached into his back pocket, pulling out yet another plastic guitar pick. It thrummed gently against the steel strings as he played a few random chords, making sure his instrument was still in tune.

“Just out of curiosity,” you said, “how many guitar picks do you have on you at any given time?”

“Uhh, at least two,” Eddie replied with his head bent over his guitar. “Yeah, never know when I’m gonna need one.”

“Right,” you said, “I guess you never know when someone’s gonna ask you to bust out a wicked guitar solo.”

Eddie chuckled a little at that. “Well, it hasn’t happened yet, but…” He looked over at you and smiled a sweet smile. “All right, crazy, name your song.”

“Any song?”

“Any song.”

Wow, talk about pressure. You clapped your hands together and brought them to your lips in thought.

And you thought.

And you thought.

And you thought some more.

Finally, after a minute of silence, Eddie leaned over and said, “Okay, remember we’ve only got twenty minutes here.”

“Fifteen now,” Cliff hollered from the bar, and Eddie gave you a look that said, Hurry up.

“Okay, okay,” you said. “Ummm… Oh—”

“Can’t do ‘Free Bird.’”

Your mouth snapped shut, and you frowned. “Why? You can’t play it?”

“No,” said Eddie, a little insulted by your accusation. “No, I can definitely play it. Easily, actually. I’m just not allowed to play it. That’s the problem.” He started scratching his chin, a nostalgic smile consuming his face. “See, uhhh, when I first learned that song, I played it nonstop for like three weeks straight, drove everyone here crazy… so, yeah, if I play that song right now, Cliff’s gonna throw us both out.”

You laughed. “Okay, then—”

“Same goes for ‘Stairway to Heaven.’”

“Wow,” you said. “Way to ruin every good guitar song for me, Munson.”

“Hey, trust me, there are plenty of better guitar songs out there. You just have terrible taste in music.”

“I do not have terrible taste in music!”

“Well, your favorite band’s Journey, so…”

You made a sharp, stabbing motion with your finger. “Hey, watch it, pal. If you’re gonna turn this into another Journey hatefest, then I’m just gonna…” but you couldn’t bring yourself to finish that sentence, not while Eddie was staring at you like that, his eyes practically sparkling under the stage lights.

You turned around and laid your hands on your lap. Then, after a brief moment of careful deliberation, you said, “I wanna hear ‘Hotel California,’ and I want you to put some soul into it, Munson.”

When Eddie didn’t answer, you looked over your shoulder and saw him rubbing the back of his neck in contemplation.

You sighed, dejected. “What, you’re not allowed to play that song, either?”

Eddie shook his head. “No, no… just, uhhh, gimme a second, okay? It’s been a couple years since I played that one.”

He put his guitar pick between his lips and thought hard about it for a moment, humming the melody under his breath, miming the chord progressions with his fingers until they felt just right. Once he finally had it, he took the pick out of his mouth and positioned it over the strings.

“Okay,” he said to you, “get ready.”

“Oh, I’m ready,” you said… and your mouth fell open as soon as Eddie strummed the first chord, his fingers gliding effortlessly across the strings.

The slow, haunting twang of his electric guitar sent chills down your spine and made your skin prickle with goosebumps. All of a sudden, you were twelve again, sitting alone in a dark and crowded auditorium while some strange boy played a terrible cover of Judas Priest’s “Rock Forever.”

The kid sucked. God, did he suck. And, worst of all, he didn’t even seem to realize it. He was playing like he was the headlining act on a rock ‘n’ roll tour, like everyone in the audience had paid hundreds of dollars just to watch him perform. You could hardly contain your laughter. It was cracking you up all night: while Chrissy’s dad drove you home, while you gave your parents a painfully descriptive play-by-play in the living room, while you tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep because you couldn’t stop thinking about that hilariously awful performance.

Except by then you weren’t laughing anymore. You were too busy picturing that boy’s face, and his eyes… mostly his eyes… those deep, deep brown eyes, the brownest eyes you had ever seen. Every time he played his guitar, they took on this focused yet far-off look, like he was a million miles away.

Those deep, distant brown eyes left you speechless even now.

“Wow, Munson,” you said when he was finished, “you’re like my own personal jukebox.”

It was a silly throwaway joke, not even remotely funny, but for some reason it made Eddie stop everything he was doing and stare at you for a moment, his eyes dazed and blinking, as if he suddenly couldn’t remember where he was.

“What?” you said.

“Uhh, nothing,” Eddie replied, “just a little déjà vu, I guess.”

He gave his head a couple quick shakes and raised his guitar again, his movements awkward and clumsy as his hands struggled to find their natural grip. “Uhh… next song? This one’ll probably be the last, so think carefully, okay? You really gotta make this one count.”

“Okay,” you said, but you already knew what song you were choosing. Yeah, you had made that decision about four nights ago when Cliff cruelly pulled the plug on Eddie’s Tuesday night performance.

You stole one glimpse of his shirt and said with the brightest smile, “‘Prowler’ - Iron Maiden.”

Eddie closed his eyes and sighed deeply, blissfully, then turned to you with an adoring look on his face.

“You’re welcome,” you said. “Have fun, sir.”

You were both smiling as you and Eddie left the bar together, the night sky hovering high above you, twinkling with a thousand stars.

Eddie carried his guitar and his amp and hauled them into his van. Then he reached back for the small bundle of cords you held in your arms.

“So, did you have a good time?” he asked.

“I did,” you said. “Yeah, it’s always fun pissing off Cliff.”

“Yeah…” Eddie glanced back at you. “Yeah, he’s a good guy.”

Then he pulled the sliding door closed and leaned against it, staring at you with a gentle expression that made your heart speed up a little. You wondered when Eddie was going to make a move. You wondered if he was going to make a move. You wondered if you were being too presumptuous in assuming that he was going to make a move. Then you wondered if you were wondering about this too much and finally slumped down beside him, your back squeaking against the filthy van door.

“Shit,” you said, “I definitely just got this jacket dirty.”

You peeled away from the van and turned around, guiltily displaying your back to Eddie. 

“Is it bad?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, it’s pretty bad.”

Great, you thought, and leaned against the van again.

“I’ll pay to have it dry cleaned.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it,” Eddie said. “I’ll take all the blame… Yeah, I don’t want Wayne hating you before he even meets you.”

And that made you grin—a stupid, happy grin.

“I think he’ll really like you, by the way.”

You looked up at him in surprise. “Really?”

“No,” Eddie replied dully. “No, he'll definitely think you're annoying.”

For that, you clobbered his shoulder with your fist. Eddie absorbed the blow, laughing as he did.

“God, always so violent,” he said, pretending to rub the pain out of his shoulder. “You know, if you’re looking for an excuse to touch me, you can just…”

Eddie closed his mouth and looked away, then started pensively clucking his tongue behind his teeth: click, cluck, click, cluck.

The sound reminded you of a ticking clock steadily counting down the minutes.

One-o-eight.

One-o-nine.

One-ten.

The night was finally nearing its end. Now you and Eddie were standing at a literal and metaphorical crossroads, its intersection marked with a tiny green sign. It sat smugly on a rusted metal pole and presented you with two options: you could keep going straight down Main Street or make a sharp right turn onto Oak.

Main Street was the logical and more dependable choice. The road was recently paved and brightly lit, dotted with all kinds of trees, flowers, shrubs, and these cozy little wooden benches that sat so neatly on the freshly cut grass. It was a nice road, a scenic road, a road that gradually led onto Cherry Street, then Maple Street, and finally, safely, brought you to your house. You and Eddie would sit in his van for a few minutes, enjoying the awkward yet wonderful silence, and then he would lean across the seat and give you a kiss—a chaste, gentleman’s kiss.

All in all, not a bad way to end prom night. In fact, you thought it sounded rather romantic.

Sweet.

Innocent.

Then there was the other street: Oak Street. Oak, with that hard, hard K. You couldn’t see all the way down that street, not from where you were standing, but you knew it eventually turned into Cornwallis. And you knew Cornwallis… yeah, you knew that road very well. That road was older, cracked and covered with potholes. It was the road where your tire had blown out while you were driving back from a party at Sattler’s Quarry. You and Chrissy had to hike a mile to Benny’s Burgers and ask Benny to borrow his phone. And the whole time you kept thinking, I’m never, ever driving on this road again.

Yeah, Cornwallis was a bad road, a dangerous road. It went on for miles and miles, winding through steep hills and giant pockets of dark, dense forest. And if you weren’t very careful, you might accidentally… inevitably… make a wrong turn and find yourself flying straight down Kerley Road.

… towards the Forest Hills Trailer Park.

Oh shit, you thought. That is a very tempting road.

You sucked in a shaky breath as your knees trembled with indecision.

Meanwhile, Eddie had pushed off the side of the van and went reaching into his pocket for his keys.

“It’s getting late,” he said, his voice husky with regret. “I should probably—”

You put your hand on Eddie’s heart and felt it jump at your touch.

“I don’t wanna go home,” you said, “not yet.”

Eddie’s eyes widened for a second, then softened with a warm, hazy glow. He leaned into your palm, into you, and murmured against your lips,  

“I don’t wanna take you home.” 

⏩ part two

DWM MASTERPOST

MASTERLIST

#stranger things #fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x dwm!reader #dwm short #dancing with myself #dwm #ambrossart

[luckypoppymilliemama]

I am seriously so saddened to realize people have used my name and my cat to steal money from some of you. This is crazy, never, ever did I think that my Poppy would be used negatively.

Let’s give a little rundown of who we are. I’m Michelle, a 30-something year old married mama to 3 skin kittens, and 3 fuzzy kittens. One of my skin kittens is an adult, the other two are rapidly approaching attempting to leave the nest. I am disabled, physically and mentally which leads to emotionally, too. My fuzzy kittens help a lot with that.

2 summers ago, a friend texted me asking if I wanted a kitten. Of course I did. Then I found out she was a feral kitten that her mama had left behind because her one back leg was missing a foot, so she couldn’t climb and jump like the rest of the kittens were, and she was getting too heavy to carry in her mouth. That kitten now only have 3 legs, and is my Lucky baby.

Come early February of the next year, I saw on a friend’s aunts rescue site two of the most gorgeous little calico kittens I had ever seen. I claimed them before Valentine’s Day, even though I wouldn’t be able to get them until after Mother’s Day since they were slow to grow. They were attached at the hip, there was no way I could get one and not the other. Those were my Poppy girl and Millie moon.

That’s how I ended up with my fuzzy kittens. They are the best fuzzy kittens I have ever met. All 3 of them have a different job in calming me and my middle daughter down while in emotional crisis. Poppy is and has always been that calming rumble that you try to concentrate on instead of everything else that is happening. And it works more than anyone would believe.

Poppy is sick. My go fund me has all the explanations and updates you could ever need; I even have to add the email with the vet when she gets a chance to email back to me. I have endless pictures and videos to show she is my little love.

Please, if you can, share this post anywhere and everywhere, across all forms of social media. My follower numbers are so low, I’m surprised it’s not a negative number. I know a bunch of you got scammed, and I’m sorry. I really am. If I could make it better, I would.

Myself, I’ve even cut back some of my less essential but still needed medications so I have the money to get Poppy the treatment she deserves. I just need my baby girl to be better. It’s time sensitive because we honestly don’t know how much time she has left with her red blood cell count being in the low 10s percent wise (I think it was 13-14% last time, and it should be above 35). I am extremely transparent in what I show you all because if you are helping pay for it, I figure you have a right to see where the care is going and what it’s being used for.

We are trying to get the maximum amount of funding so we can get all the testing done because the liver and spleen are just as important as the bone marrow biopsy, but we will not look a gift horse in the mouth. Whatever we get it, it’s another cent that we didn’t have to scrounge around to find, another minute off the ever clicking clock.

Best ways to donate: to the hospital itself:

Philadelphia Animal Specialty and Emergency

Dial 267-727-3738, press 2, ask to place a credit on Poppy Riggs account, #FE22554C. All of this info is able to be found on the images in the gofundme.

The Gofundme. It is the *only* go fund me I have up. Anything else is a scam.

These account below are the only official ways to donate outside of the gofundme.

My email is listed below, and I am willing to answer any and all questions via email or on here, your choice.

Thank you so much for helping. It means everything to us.

#gofundme #go fund me #cats #cat #sick cat #sick cats #mutual aid #mutualaid #pretty cats #cats of tumblr #cats of instagram #cats of the day #cute cats #calico #calico cats #long post #longpost #disabled #mental heath issues #mental heath support #emotional support cat #emotional #support cat #doctor cat #therapy cat #donate #will the real poppy please stand up #please save poppy #real Poppy #please donate

[ilycorisradiata]

Scaramouche Part 2 👀

his report pt. 2

ಌ his report: scaramouche x male!reader

ಌ theme: he'd warned you about doing it in the office next, but you didn't think he had meant it so soon

ಌ cw: 18+ NSFW, amab reader, dom!scara, office sex, masturbation, oral (scara receiving), exhibitionism(is that the word? 6am brain go poop !), sex up against a meeting room window hehe, some degrading names said by scara, a certain ginger catches you maybe sorta, solo edited + solo read, cross-posted on ao3

ಌ wc: 2.1k

ಌ notes: [link to part 1] hi anon !! ask and you shall receive >:) this one is longer than pt. 1 since it originally was just a drabble (i got a bit carried away...) hope you enjoy ! (sorry... only one update this weekend, will post more fics soon)

“That concludes this meeting. Please send me those documents once you are finished with the processing, and I’ll get them approved right away.” All colleagues in the room stand from their seats, including you, gathering everything to leave your boss to his devices in the meeting room. Scaramouche made his way to the main desk, his desk, in the meeting room. Just as you were about to leave, he stops you.

“Ah, Y/N, stay here. I want a word with you.” Stopping in your tracks, sweat trickling down the back of your neck, shutting the door behind your colleagues with a click. He’s quick to be behind you, pulling you away from the door by your wrist and bringing you back over to the meeting table.

He didn’t speak to you in this moment, and it made you more nervous than before. A bubbling panic. What could have possibly ticked him off in the meeting, or anywhere for that matter? He spoke eloquently during the meeting, not a single thing to announce he was annoyed or upset with the outcome. His words had flown smoothly, well-spoken.

“A-ah, Scara– I mean, Boss, what did you need from me?”

“Strip.”

“What?”

“Didn’t you hear me? Strip. Now.”

Looking at him; his face forming a dangerous look, and the glow in his eyes almost light up the room slightly. It was a different look. Never having seen this before, especially at your workplace, you couldn’t question him. He had an authority over you, in more ways than one and it would be wrong to disobey him now. You, of course, wanted this just as much as he did. It only surprised you because it was so soon… So, you strip. Every last piece of your work uniform is in a pile on the floor, and you hadn’t even heard the fact that Scaramouche had actually locked the door to the meeting room before walking slowly back toward you. You were too embarrassed to remove every article from your body… So, you stood embarrassed in nothing but your boxers. He stares you down, noticing your hesitation to remove everything

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” A scowl adorned his face, arms folded over his chest and a finger taps impatiently on his clothed bicep. Slipping your thumbs under the waistband, you pull them down slowly. Your heart was hammering in your ribcage, that fear of someone walking in with you completely in the nude, at work, with your boss in front of you… What would they even think of this situation? A hand flies to your jaw, holding your face up with some force so you would finally look at him, and you could do nothing but stare back in awe. You wanted to curse yourself for finding that arousing, cock twitching to life. Previous anxious thoughts were out of the window… And all you could concentrate on was your boss in front of you. Letting go of your jaw, he steps closer to you and breathes down your neck, into your ear.

“I want you to prepare yourself in front of me. Show me how you pleasure yourself when I’m not there, hmm?” He steps back, enough to give you some room. His instructions were absolute, and you weren’t risking the fact of getting embarrassed in front of your colleagues. Squatting down, you spit into your hand and palm away at your half erect cock. You hear him blow a long and low whistle, stepping back to watch every expression you pull on your face. Hot. Everywhere felt hot. You couldn’t tell if it was from shyness, or if it was because his eyes were burning holes into your face, your body. With the other hand you suck on two fingers, and you look up, hoping to entice him. He looks at you, unbothered. No matter the number of little moans around your fingers had given you the reaction you had thought for, and he was glaring at you. Releasing both fingers, you circle your hole. Plunging one in, you whimper, wishing it was his instead of your own. To be honest, it wasn’t even embarrassing to admit to yourself anymore… That the only way to get off was with the image of your boss.

“Hah… You’re thinking of me, aren’t you? Fucking pervert.” Looking up at him through foggy eyes, you couldn’t actually tell if he was enjoying the display and he continued to keep a bored expression on. He shuffles toward you again, looking at you with expectant eyes and you knew what he wanted. Continuing to work yourself up, you nudge your nose against his groin. You hadn’t even realised he was sporting an erection… Too busy with your own thoughts, clearly. He chuffs through his nose, pleased that you were finally getting the gist when you nudged your way to his zipper and pulled it down with your teeth. He had sighed, but you were too busy with trying to please him, and yourself, of course.

You kissed and licked the fabric, paying special attention to the groan that you managed to pull from his throat. He pulled it out, tapping it on your lips to get you to do your work, and you did just that. Running your tongue up and down his shaft like it was the best dessert you’d ever had, sucking and licking the head. Spit and precum bubbled at the corners of your mouth when you took him in, tongue flat against the underside whilst slowly sinking halfway and then pulling yourself back up fully, planting a small kiss to the head. Looking up at him through your eyelashes, you see that strange glint in his eye again. Frightening. Nothing indicated if he was actually enjoying this, and you started to doubt yourself. Surely, he was… Right? I mean he’s hard, so you were doing something right… You went to take him in again, but he hated how slow you were taking things, so he thrusted forward harshly. Gagging around him, tears threatening to spill at any moment as he did it again and again, your hand that previously held your front flying up to grab onto his trousers. Trying to find balance again, opening yourself up diligently below for him despite feeling like you could topple over at any moment. The noises coming from you were a delight to him, watching as you try to suck any drool that tries to escape. Scaramouche starts fumbling slightly, slowing his onslaught in your mouth. He removes a shoe of his with his other foot, but because you couldn’t see exactly what he was doing, you were in for a surprise. He pressed his foot against your cock, thrusting it harshly upwards with your own precum spreading everywhere.

“That’s it… There you go. You’ve learnt well, slut.” Pulling out of your mouth and dragging you to your feet, he tells you to stand in front of the glass and you immediately hesitate. If you stood any closer to the glass, you were sure someone would see you. You stand still. Unmoving. This ticks Scaramouche off, and he storms to the desk, throwing open a drawer and taking a bottle out from it. He’s quick to come back, other shoe kicked off, bottle in his pocket, and he grabs the back of your neck to press you up against the glass. Coating his fingers in the bottle’s liquid, he’s quick to plunge them into you, making sure you had properly worked yourself open. He pulled them out just as quickly as he had put them in, lining himself up.

“I told you I would do this, but I bet you didn’t think it would be so soon… Especially since this meeting had something to do with your report for me, huh?” He’s agonisingly slow, pushing into you as if he had the entire time in the world to do so. Hissing into your neck when he finally bottomed out, he bit and licked everywhere around your neck, distracting you from him pulling all the way out.

“You better be quiet, or someone will walk past and see you pressed up against this glass… Wouldn’t want them seeing you from the hallway, bubbling out how much of a whore you are, considering you’re also doing it with someone in the meeting room everyone in this department was just in not too long ago...” That was the only warning he gave, quick to snap his hips back into you and relishing in the way you squeezed around him every time he pulled back out to the tip. You could hardly keep yourself together, mentally and physically. With the thought of being caught in this vulnerable position, and the fact your cock was rubbing deliciously against the glass windows. His hands were bruising themselves into your skin around your waist, pulling you into him in time with his thrusts. It was dizzying. He’d called you every vulgar name under the sun at this point, spooking you every now and again about someone walking past. Anyone could walk in, at least that was what you thought.

You could see into the hall, especially the backs of people working away in the distance as they did their work that he had requested. That was until someone had actually tried the door, and you reached behind you to grab onto Scaramouche for dear life. You were scared. If you were caught like this, it would be you who got into trouble… And not him. They knocked not once, but thrice. With no answer, and Scaramouche still pounding into you like the animal he was, the person outside definitely knew someone was in the meeting room. You watched as they came closer to the glass, two hands cupping around their eyes to try and peak into the glass window. One arm wraps itself around you to keep you balanced, whilst his other hand covers where the person’s eyes were. Letting out a cry when he rammed into you and the other person still trying to look in, you smack a hand over your mouth to muffle any moans that dare slip out. Not that it mattered, considering all that filled your ears were his heavy breathing and the sound of skin slapping against skin.

“You tightened up when they looked in… Is it that exciting to have someone peak at us doing this at work? Maybe I should have done it in the hall, right in front of all of them.” His words were nothing but a whisper, as the person stepped away from the glass and walked down the hallway away from the meeting room. You couldn’t contain yourself much longer, and Scaramouche was very much at his limit as well.

“Make a mess then… I know you want to.” You were exactly on cue, almost trapping him inside you, splattering cum all other the glass. He tried to push himself even more impossibly further into you, releasing into you and grunting out indecipherable words. The only thing filling the room was now both of your breathing, but Scaramouche was always the first one to make a move in the end. He pulled you both away from the windows, pulling out of you momentarily before slamming you onto your back on his desk. A couple of knocks were heard on the glass, someone leaning their back against the pane. Shock filled your features, the colour orange the first thing you recognise with a slightly muffled voice that came shortly after.

“Scaramouche, I think you’ve used this room for long enough.” Recognising the voice, your neck snaps to look at the growing irritation spreading across Scaramouche’s features. He looks at you with dangerous eyes, as if it were your fault. He clicks his tongue, grabbing tissues to clean you up briefly before rushing to your uniform to help you dress. By the time you were dressed, and Scaramouche had cleaned up the mess you both made, he grabbed your hand and dragged you out of the meeting room. You stumbled after him, struggling to keep up with his long, quick strides. It didn’t take long to end up in the parking lot, with him practically throwing you into the car. Childe having made an appearance, definitely knowing what you two had done in the meeting room, had ticked him off. Scaramouche was muttering a plethora of insults under his breath.

“That stupid fucking ginger prick…”

“He kinda had a point though… ‘zushi.”

“Mmh… But I wanted to soil that entire room with us. It was thrilling, no, probably much more than that.”

“No further words to describe it then?”

“I can describe it better with actions, I’m not satisfied with just that. I’m spoiling you when we’re home.”

#genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin fic #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader smut #scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi #balladeer genshin #scaramouche x you #x male reader #scaramouche x male reader

[luminouslotuses]

i tried writing out and planning a post but i couldn’t. i can’t fully articulate my feelings right now but i’ll try!! i’m so happy jaiden decided to quit once she realized that qsmp was too much. the last thing i would’ve wanted her to do was to continue while being burnt out, overwhelmed or unhappy. i’m so so excited for what she has in store for the future and i know she’ll be fucking amazing at whatever she wants to do.

but. Yeah. i’m devastated. i’m not good at putting things into words on the spot like this but jaiden and her qsmp character meant so much to me. i loved her interactions with others on the server, her lore/rp moments, and hell even the chill streams when she was simply just building and talking to chat. i’m gonna miss her dynamics with so many of the members, roier, baghera, cellbit, foolish, mouse, just to name a few. even though it’s over for her, their friendships are all legitimately so beautiful and i hope they stay in touch with one another. (i’m sure they will. this is qsmp they care about one another on a level so deep i can’t put it into words)

and i’m gonna be transparent for a moment– when jaiden took a break from qsmp, i also kind of.. began drifting away, a little bit? not completely of course. i can’t find it in myself to do that lmaoo i’m in too deep at this point and i adore this server. but now that she’s gone i feel. a little lost and unsure of what to do. i’m not going anywhere, that’s for sure. i think i just need to eventually adjust and fully come to terms with the fact that. jaiden’s not coming back. typing that out feels surreal wow but yeah, i’m gonna miss her on the qsmp. so fucking much. o7 qjaiden

#qsmp #jaiden animations #she was my main pov for the entirety of the server and pretty much the main reason (other than it being quackity’s project ofc lol) that i #got into qsmp #god it’s embarrassing how crushed i am by this but. i figured i should be honest i mean a rather large percentage of my blog was #about jaiden whether it be her cubito or cc. i’m going to miss her so much but i can’t wait for what she’ll do next #my ted talk

[seresinhangmanjake]

Beyond the Hills: Part 3

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x female!reader (College AU)

Summary: Technically, you and Jake Seresin have known each other for twelve years. All throughout your childhood education, you and Jake shared classes, lunch periods, homeroom teachers. It seemed if the opportunity for you to be in the same space arose, the universe made it happen. But you were not friends. Not enemies, either. Not much of anything to one another outside of the occasional class project partners. When high school ended you assumed you wouldn’t be seeing him any time soon, but then you find yourselves at the same college, and once again, forced together. It seems no matter where you go, Jake Seresin is there. But you are not the shy girl you were in your youth. You want to try things now; party, have fun, do things you’ve never done before, and suddenly, for reasons you don’t understand, Jake seems to take issue with your new choices.

Notes/Warnings: 18+, just to be safe. Minors DNI. underage drinking (depending on your country, but I’m in the US). I’d bet on typos, kind of my thing, as I learn after I’ve posted. I don’t have a beta reader, sooo…just me, myself, and I, and sometimes that does not cut it for editing purposes. Smut-ish.

Words: 2591

Masterlist / Main Masterlist

-----

He'd decided the night after the first meeting that he wanted to get to know you. The need took root in his chest and he couldn’t shake it. But was he making progress? He didn't know. The second meeting you were paired with Ellen and he with some new addition named Maria. Rooster hadn't shown. Didn't need to now that he'd gotten his foot in the door with your friend. Jake didn't care. He cared about the fact that you clearly were fine with being someone else's partner that Tuesday when he certainly wasn't feeling the same. But if there was a silver lining—he got to watch you laugh and smile, he got to see your eyes shine, and he didn't have to worry about what you'd think because you weren't paying him an ounce of attention. Silver lining to the core. He'd prefer the attention. 

The third week was a little better. He'd given extra consideration to Pride and Prejudice, staying up late to finish the book and form his opinions. He didn't so much enjoy the story, but he did enjoy the idea of appearing smart in front of you. So when the TA told them to pair off, he practically snatched you up and did his best to prove he had a decent head on his shoulders. Maybe he got you to believe it, too, at least by the time the meeting was over. 

Progress. Right? Right?

He sighed as he opened his room's door, hoping he was right. The thought was consuming him, so much so that he didn't hear the mix of moans and groans and the squeaks of an ancient mattress.

"Fuck, baby."

Those were the words that drew Jake back to the present. 

He grimaced. "Oh, what the actual fuck."

Lydia yelped on Rooster's lap and whipped her head Jake's way, letting out an "Oh my god" as his roommate pulled her chest flush against his to shield some of her bare body. 

"Hey, man," Rooster chuckled, grabbing the blanket from behind him and wrapping it around them both. "We were just—"

"I think I can guess," Jake snapped as he gestured his hand at the scene before him. "How about a text next time? Or a note slapped on the door?"

"That's fair."

"Thank you," Jake huffed. He ran a hand through his hair. A handful of beats passed as they all looked anywhere but at each other. "And how are you, Lydia?" It seemed polite to ask, albeit with a little irritation in his tone. 

"Good, thanks." She smiled, all awkwardness fading once the shock of his presence wore off. Of course she was as confident as his roommate. Entirely unbothered. She shifted slightly on Rooster’s lap and the man groaned in response, biting into her neck. "Oh hey, by the way, Y/N is coming with us to the bar tonight if you want to go. It's the one on Lake that doesn't ask ages."

Jake's eyes narrowed into a glare. His arms crossed over his chest. "You told her?"

Rooster shrugged. "It was a bonding moment. Right, baby?" He said as he brushed some of the wild platinum hair behind Lydia's ear.

She wrapped her arms tighter around his neck, hummed in agreement, and leaned in to give him a quick kiss. Something in Jake ached at the sight—the tenderness. Rooster had known Lydia for weeks and he already had more with her than Jake did with a girl he'd known for years. 

He didn't like you. Those thoughts just crossed his mind every once in a while, completely out of his control. But he'd find a way to bury them because he did want to be your friend, at the very least. Fighting that was out the window. 

Jake looked back at the two sitting atop the bed, still intertwined, still holding each other, still giving one another little kisses as if he wasn't there. "Goddamn you move fast," he said. 

With reluctance, his roommate pulled back slightly from the woman in his arms. "Yea, and we'd like to move a little faster, so can we maybe talk some more about this when I’m, uh, not hard and buried deep in—"

"Stop."

"Unless you want to watch?"

Jake was already shaking his head before he said, "Absolutely not."

Rooster winked. "We'll be quick."

—--

You couldn't decide if you were comfortable or not, cramped in the tight space, shuffling through a sea of bodies just to get from one end of the bar to the other. You were leaning more towards uncomfortable until you finally saw Lydia waving at you from the entrance, her hand clasped in Bradley's and dragging him along. You took a breath and a sip of your drink but it almost sputtered at your lips when you saw Jake following behind the two. 

Shit. What the hell was wrong with your friend? Your first one in forever and she'd already betrayed you. You couldn't fully relax if he was here, and while you hadn't told Lydia a damn thing about the confusing thoughts in your head about him, you had a suspicion she was catching on. 

You took another drink, a long one, emptying the rest of your glass.

"Hi, hon," she said, taking the seat opposite you in the booth and dragging her—boyfriend? Sex partner? you didn't know what they were—down beside her. 

It left you with no choice but to make room for the blond, who plopped down in the space you had occupied. He was close. So close you couldn't tell if the warmth of your body was from the alcohol or his own heat enveloping you. Either way, it wasn't…unpleasant.

"Hi," you finally remembered to say. 

—--

Your voice was unsteady on that word as much as his heartbeat was inside his body. Both were clear and unmistakable, yet unstable. Irregular. If he spoke, his words would’ve sounded the same, and he wondered if your heartbeat was currently as wild as his. Maybe you were a perfect match. What a dangerous thought. 

Ok, maybe he liked you. Just a bit. 

Fuck.

"So," Lydia began, and Jake suddenly decided he had never liked the girl better. Her drawn-out syllable was a crack in the walls of silence that encased the four of you. A sweet smile split her face. "Have you guys seen anyone else from home walking around?"

Your head shook in his peripherals and Jake remained silent, watching as Lydia glanced nervously at Rooster. He gave her a nod, urging her to continue. It didn't fool Jake in the slightest. They were trying to get him to talk to you in some way that wasn't about books, but their conversation starters were lousy and you weren't biting. 

"Well, I saw Cooper Michaels today," she said.

—--

Jake stiffened beside you—spine suddenly rigid while his neck muscles strained from his clenching jaw. His thumbnail started to scrape up and down the side of his curled-in middle finger and his other hand began balling up one of the napkins the bar used as a sorry excuse for coasters. 

"Really?" You asked. You knew Cooper, in a way. Nearly everyone from your high school did, regardless of year. But it was simply a matter of recognizing his name and being able to put it to his face if the situation called for it. Nothing more.

"Yea, he transferred from a different school already. Said it wasn't a good fit." Lydia paused, clearly waiting for something more from either you or Jake, but she wasn’t going to get it; not from you because you didn’t care much about anyone from high school, and not from Jake for, well, some reason. Not until Lydia said "I invited him tonight” did Jake finally look up at her again. 

His brow was drawn tight and his next word he practically spat at your friend. "Why?"

"Dude,” Bradley snapped, but Jake’s attitude didn’t phase Lydia; likely because of her four brothers and their natural moodiness—something she claimed Bradley was already terrified at the thought of. 

"Because he just got here and he doesn't know anyone else,” Lydia said, giving back a minute degree of sass that was just enough to spread an ashamed look across Jake’s face. "Wasn't he your friend?" 

Jake mumbled something under his breath, then, "Not really."

"Oh. Well, he said he was glad he was going to get to see you tonight."

His mouth was sealed shut, face devoid of emotion. He looked…blank. Not all there. And then he was gone, out of the booth and disappearing into the crowd. 

—--

He wanted to shatter his own reflection—just to relieve some of the tension in his body, to expel some energy, maybe feel something other than irritation at his own bad luck, even if that feeling was sharp pain from glass shards buried into the skin of his knuckles. 

He couldn’t catch a damn break. Wrapping his head around you, picking at his brain with a needle to try and figure out why he felt what he felt, was enough to occupy him. Enough to disrupt his sleep, as the bathroom mirror reminded him. He didn’t need more. He didn’t need the return of an intentionally neglected memory. 

Cooper fucking Michaels. 

Maybe he’d never see him again after the night was over. The school was big enough. But could he really wake up tomorrow and pretend one half of a destroyed friendship wasn’t within a mile radius at all times? He doubted the other half would. Cooper hated him, and that wasn’t going away any time soon. 

Jake twisted the knob on the sink and gathered some of the cool water in his palm to run over his face. He needed to get himself together; to walk back out there, sit down beside you, and remain calm. He might not even show, he told himself as he dried his face. He could have had something better to do.

He shoved the door open and stepped into the liquor-scented air, making it all of five paces before your face filled his vision. You stared up at him, and he down at you. Then your mouth opened and Jake waited patiently for the words you were going to gift him. 

“Are–Are you ok?” you shouted over the music booming through the speakers that were set up in nearly every corner of the room. “Lydia and Bradley asked me to come chec—” 

A body shoved yours forward, directly into his. A harsh collision, but Jake welcomed it, savored it. You huddled a little closer to him as the rest of the moving group of people passed, and his hands instinctively went to wrap around your upper arms. 

Tingles, zaps, shocks. Whatever you wanted to call them, Jake got them just by brushing his fingers over some bare skin—your bare skin. And he finally knew what those meant. His thumbs began to slowly stroke back and forth along your biceps but he couldn't say if you noticed. Your attention was still on the migrating group. 

Soft. So fucking soft. And warm. And right in front of him. 

He whispered your name before he could stop himself, and as if you'd heard him, you turned your head, your eyes widening when they connected with his. His chest rose and fell, pressing against yours with each inhale as he gathered the realization of his sudden desire. 

He wanted you. He wanted this mouth on yours. He wanted his hands dipping into your clothes. He wanted more of your skin. 

Jake blinked hard to break his stare and shook his head. "I, um—"

"This your girl, Seresin?"

Pure ice shot through his body, solidifying the blood in his veins and stopping his heart mid-thump.

He'd know that voice from a mile away; could pick out its specific notes and tone in the sea of mindless chattering. Never would he forget the voice of the man who cursed his name and told him in about ten different ways to fuck off and go to hell. Not even in his nightmares did the memory fade, despite his best effort.

An ocean-blue gaze landed on your face as Jake dropped his hands back to his sides, and it took everything in him not to block that look with his body. It was too suggestive, too bold, but that was signature for the man he used to call his friend. Flirting was in his nature—was once in Jake’s nature, too; deeply embedded in the wiring of his brain. That is, until he fucked up under the influence of that flirty nature mixed with an abundance of alcohol. 

"I'm Cooper," he said, his lips thinning into a smirk. He winked and took a sip from the beer bottle in his hand. 

"I know. We went to the same high school." You replied without skipping a beat. 

Jake’s brow furrowed at your words and the pang in his chest that followed them. How many times in your life had you reminded people of who you were? To the idiots who could somehow find you so unimportant as to forget your face. He couldn’t blur the image of your face if he tried, and he had tried, relentlessly, for years. That determination had only increased when he saw you walk into his class, but you returned with a vengeance; the center of his dreams. 

"You sure?” Copper asked. “I'd think I would've remembered a girl like you."

You smiled a tad awkwardly, your head falling forward, eyes landing at your shoes. He wanted to hold you. Wrap his arms back around you. Protect you. Save you from the discomfort that you never should’ve had to go through. He’d failed you countless times before, without you even knowing it. He could have done those things in school. He’d certainly felt the pull, and yet he didn’t. He kept away as best he could. Now, the instinct was thick and wild and it was a sickening struggle to restrain his limbs from reaching out. But he did. The possible repercussions of acting in this moment would tear him apart. 

"I'm sure," you replied, looking back up. You briefly met Cooper’s eyes, but shifted them to Jake as you said, "I'm going to head back."

Best fucking thing he’d heard all night. Get away from Cooper ran through his head. Good girl. Even if it meant also walking away from Jake, he needed you to go. 

Jake nodded, watching you turn and weave back through body after body until he lost sight of you. 

"You never answered my question." All flirtiness gone. A tenseness turning that tone to stone.

"She's no one,” Jake said, his gaze still locked in the direction you had gone, though you were far from his area of vision. “Just in my class."

Cooper hummed. "Just in your class, huh?" His wide shoulder rammed into Jake’s as he passed him to make his way to the booth where you sat with Rooster and his girlfriend. Cooper glanced over that shoulder, his strawberry blond hair—the hair that had won him the attention of numerous girls for years—shifting in the act, and said "Somehow I doubt that."

------

Tags: @marvel-ousnesss @thespeeder @nobody7102 @marrianena @fangirlingoverfangirls @blue-aconite @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @dempy @chaoticassidy @alana4610 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @dracosluvbot @smoothdogsgirl @smit41 @wkndwlff @rileyloves5 @gigisimsonmars @hangmanbrainrot @withakindheartx @teacupsandtopgun @himbos-on-ice @xoxabs88xox @happypopcornprincess @violyn20 @jordanturpen @nagygreta @rintheemolion @coldmuffinbanditshoe @avengersgirllorianna @oliviah-25 @talkfastromance4 @ysl-bby @chibijusstuff @kmsryles343 @sometimesicryintheshower @cookielovesbook-akie @yanna-banana @taylahk109 @buxkybarnez @elijahmikaelsonbitch @ravenhood2792 @potato-girl99981 @eccentricnos @kembry107 @pono-pura-vida @topguncultleader @v0id-chaos @scrappybear89 @stiles-banshees @audri_janis @jake-seresins-girl @caidi-paris @sass-masterkittenmama @mlibbydp @abaker74 @blackwidownat2814 @llymoonie @caitsymichelle13 @zbeez-outlet @ahintofstrawberry-blog @djs8891 @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @themusingofagothicsoul @taytaylala12 @appledressing @boltgirl426​ @atarmychick007 @winterrebel04 @alldaysdreamers @lelapine @darkheartcherry 

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfic #top gun maverick #top gun hangman #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x female!reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin au #top gun au #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin angst #jake seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin fanfic #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x female!reader

[yourlastbraincell-kiwi]

hii! Can you do a part two of your Carl x fem!reader where she got taken by the saviors instead of daryl??

A/N: Thanks for the ask, and of course I can! I didn’t think people like this one, but it makes me happy that you want a part 2. Also sorry if it seemed rushed in the middle, I really wanted to get it out.

P.S: Also, it swaps from the reader to Carl talking, it only does it once then the rest is all Carl!

Pairing: Carl Grimes x Captured!Reader

Hope you like it!

—————

“Carl! Carl, hey! What the hell are doing?” Michonne asked, forcefully grabbing my arm to make me look at her.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m packing my shit.”

“You are not going over to the Saviors, Carl.” She said, and I ignored her and kept on packing.

“So this is it, huh? This is your bright idea? Does it even have a plan or are you going in blind and guns blazing?”

“If I need to, then so be it.”

“Carl, there are more people in there than you have bullets. You will be torn to shreds. You are not going anywhere.” I roll my eyes and let my bag drop to the floor in front of my feet. “We’ll find a way in and out of that place without losing anyone. Okay?” I nod and Michonne leans in to give me a hug, before walking out of the room.

————

“(Y/N)?” I heard someone call out to me. Then I heard metal scraping along the door of my enclosure. “(Y/N)? You awake in there, pumpkin?”

I wrapped my arms around myself tighter, hoping he’d give up and walk away from the door. But I would’ve been asking for a miracle, for that to happen.

I squinted and I shielded my face from the light the creeped from around the corner of the now open door. “Hey, pumpkin. Today’s special, look at what I brought ya.”

He lifted the dome of the platter to reveal waffles with blueberries on top, with a side of bacon and orange juice.

I stared down at the plate of food, it was almost like it had been a fever dream of some sort. With how long all of us have been in this post-apocalyptic world that’s happening, having a warm breakfast and fresh orange juice was something a lot of us yearned for.

But this had to be some sort of trick, the blueberries had to be poisoned or old or something.

“You know, you’ve been staring at the food for a while now. If you don’t want it you could’ve just said so..” He stood up, not forgetting to take the plate with him, and I was quick to call out to him.

“Wait!” I called out, hating myself for doing it— for calling out to the devil, showing how desperate I was, but I couldn’t go one more day without real food.

He swiftly turned on his heel and handed me the plate. “Atta’ girl.” He smiled and watched as I ate.

“I’m going to leave this door unlocked, you have the choice to leave and join the Saviors or stay and rot for who knows how long?”

As soon as he said ‘join’ the Saviors, I stopped eating and pushed the plate away. “No, no, no, that’s not how this works; you made your choice, you ate our food, you become one of us? Or I’ll make sure you and Lucille get real acquainted.” He said with a laugh before leaving the room and he left the door unlocked, just like he said.

And now I had a decision to make.

Stay in this room or Join the Saviors.

The choice was mine..

—————

“Come on! We don’t have much time!” I shouted in a whispering tone.

“Okay, first slow down! Carl, slow down-”

“No! I brought you with me cause I thought you wouldn’t slow me down. Turns out you’re just another dead weight.” I huffed and turned around to keep trudging through the forest trying to find the Saviors hide out.

“Carl, why are you acting like this?”

“I need to save her! And you’re slowing me down!” I exclaimed, as Enid shushed me and grabbed my arm and brought us behind a bush.

“What are you doing?” I exclaimed and Enid put a hand over my mouth, trying to shush me as a couple walkers walked by. I rolled my eyes and took her hand off my mouth.

“They’re gone, let’s go now.” I stood up and Enid immediately brought me back down to her level.

“Not before you tell me.”

“Look, I promise to tell you, but not now, okay?” I said as Enid sighed and I stood back up and continued looking for the Saviors hideout.

—————

We looked for a while it was nearing sunrise, and we finally saw the base. With a fence that had walkers inside.

I crept up closer before triggering a trap that was well hiding in the bushes. Enid tried to help me out of it, but I shushed her and told her no to come closer.

“Oh boy, now what do we have here? A rat caught in a trap?” Simon said, and I furrowed my brows in anger.

“You must want something. Cause no one in their right mind would waltz on over here, like they got a stick up their ass.” He said, and one of the Saviors laughed, causing him to turn around wordlessly tell them to shut up.

“But I don’t have something of yours do I? Oh, no, wait. That’s definitely not true. I do have something of yours. In fact that something is a someone, correct?”

“You better answer me, you little shit.” He said and I turned my face up and spit in his face. He closed his eyes and wiped his face before, slapping me across the face.

He was going to reach down and do it again, but was stopped by Negan walking out with (Y/N).

“Woah, there Simon. This ain’t how we treat our guests, ‘specially him. Why don’t you come inside? Take a load off-”

“I’m not coming inside, I’m here to get (Y/N) back. I don’t give a shit about your hospitality.”

“Oh? That’s all you wanted? Well, then I’ll give her back, if she wants to. We’re fair people. Now, sweetheart, do you want to go with him or stay with me?” He said, and (Y/N) stood there and thought about it.

“Remember that nice breakfast you had this morning? Remember how I gave you those clothes you’re wearing?” Negan said trying to persuade her.

“(Y/N), please. Come with me-” I begged not caring how crazy it sounded or made me look.

“Oh! And how you don’t have to lift a finger when you’re with me and the Saviors?” Negan exclaimed shouting over me. “Just reminding her of a few things. Take your time, honey.”

It took a while for her to answer, but she eventually respond; “I am Negan.”

“No..”

“Well, shit! Hot damn! Don’t that just hurt, that little heart of yours? You knew it was going to happen, don’t even know why you tried, kid.”

“No. This isn’t supposed to..”

“Happen? Well, it did. And she’s staying with us, kid. Look I like you kid, but you’re gonna have get a move on, I’ve got some serious shit going on and we do not need you getting in the way o’ things.” He said and I remained silent, and he rolled his eyes and told everyone to wrap it up and head inside.

I stood up and started heading back in the direction of Alexandria. Enid tried comforting me, but I didn’t listen, I couldn’t listen.

The only thing that could be heard was (Y/N) saying those three words we promised each other we’d never say.

“I am Negan.”

#x reader #angst #carl grimes #carl grimes x reader #twist ending #wattpad #twd negan #twd #twd x reader

[thestarkerisobvious]

We’re All Mad Here

a

production.

Chapter 1 Is Here

----------------------------------------------------------------------

“‘A frumious band of raths,’ how delightful.”

The voice was calm.  Low.  Sincere.  But it took Prince Peter by surprise.  He had finally found a rose-garden where no flowers remained awake.  The smell of the newly-painted flowers was not pleasant, but at least it was quiet.  So he had returned to reading his failed poem out loud in the silence.

But, it seemed, he had a human audience.

“Of course… a rath could be frumious, I suppose.  If they were to be defending their territory… I have read that they are territorial.  At home.  Presuming they can ever find their home.  I’ve only ever seen them lost I’m afraid…”

Peter 

looked up at the handsome stranger and gaped.  The man had appeared out of nowhere… but he clearly wasn’t a gardener.  In fact, he appeared to be…

“Are you… are you the…?” the gaping Peter asked.

It would be frightfully bad manners to say it.  But this handsome man was a stranger, and Peter knew everyone in his father’s castle.  He made it his business to know it.  He was going to be a knight someday, and he was determined to practice his knightley manners on everyone.  (He hadn’t started yet.  He preferred to remain silent for now.  But he was practicing in his head.)

But this striking man was unknown to him.  And there was only one new arrival at his father’s castle, and that was…

“The hatter?”  the man replied, looking up at the black silk sitting on top of his head.  It seemed to amuse him.  “Why, yes, I suppose I am…”

The man was stunning.  At least, Peter was certainly stunned.  He had dark, captivating eyes, and Peter was most certainly captivated.  His heart pounded as the handsome man drew nearer.

“...and perchance a bit of a poet myself, and I must say  I did enjoy your verses…” The man continued to speak easily as he drew nearer to the prince.  As if he could not hear the pounding of Peter’s heart in his ears, as if he could not feel the heat that was now coloring Peter’s face.

“...and I do think it fitting.  Uffish, but fitting.  For someone should mourn them.  The monsters that never grew to be frumious.  The terrors that never grew to be terrible at all.”

Stunning, just how handsome the strange man was.  Peter’s heart continued to pound.  Still, he tried to be polite when he spoke.  Proper manners should always come first (he WAS going to be a knight some day!!)  He knew whatever came out of his mouth had to be very proper.

“But… if you are a hatter… doesn’t that mean you are mad?”

Wait - that didn’t sound proper at all.

But the handsome man wasn’t offended.  In fact, he only seemed amused.  He threw back his head and laughed and, in relief, Peter found himself laughing with him.  And then they were both laughing - as if it were the most natural thing in the whole world… just as natural as shaking a stranger’s hand and then finding yourself in a frenetic dance.  Two men, both currently mourning the death of jabberwocks, suddenly laughing.

A sound from the other side of the gate startled them.  Peter gasped as if he had been caught… but caught doing what?  He couldn’t say, exactly.  He had only been laughing with his father’s hatter in a garden… yet he found himself looking for an escape, as skittish as a wary tove on the edge of a hunter’s net.  He looked above him at the rose trees frantically.  The paint was still drying, but were they all painted?  Was there still work for the gardeners to do?

The hatter reached out with one black-gloved hand and, taking Peter by the elbow, nodded toward an open gate at the bottom of the garden.  Silently, Peter followed him.  Swiftly, quietly, they fled the garden and slipped into the hedge maze beyond it.   

It never occurred to Peter to question why they moved so quickly, or where they were going.  He only knew that when that man touched his elbow with that black gloved hand?  He would have followed that stranger anywhere...

----------------------------------------------

Amazing art by @mrstarksbaby​

Chapter 3 to be posted this week!

Follow the tag #MrStarksBabyIsObvious series to keep up on ALL our current projects.  

#MrStarksBabyIsObvious Series #ben's moodboards #TheWitchwayWritesStuff #Starker #Peter Parker/Tony Stark #tony stark/peter parker/bucky barnes

[nicosraf]

sorry if this has been asked before—it probably has—but what was the publishing process for abm?

It hasn’t been asked before! It’s actually kind of strange to me how the majority of my followers now weren’t here for when ABM was being queried and then me discussing how I was gonna publish it. (I’m not sure why it freaks me out; I think I was less of an author then, I was just a guy who wrote a book, and now I’m an “author” and I’m not comfy adjusting).

But basically, Angels Before Man was published through Amazon KDP (and briefly B&N Press but that’s an unresolved long story); it went through a line editor and proofreader that I hired first, and then I paid a cover artist, bought formatting software (Vellum), and posted it. That was it. I did it all pretty quickly too. Not in a sloppy way; indie publishing just goes a million times faster because there’s less people to wait on, and there’s pressure to get things done quickly.

Before self-publishing though, I was querying (sending an email or application with a pitch letter and the first couple chapters of the manuscript) to literary agents with the hopes of getting it traditionally published. During that, I got mostly rejections, but some interested agents and requests for the full book. I joined writing twitter and started posting about ABM and it got quite a bit of attention on there (this will be relevant). I started to get really disillusioned with traditional publishing though; if you want to know why, you can pick up Yellowface by RF Kuang or just spend more than 3 minutes on writing twitter. I realized that ABM, even if it got picked up, would probably get censored, and that I had heavily self-censored myself to try and appeal to agent and editor sensitivities. I was worried it would take several years for ABM to ever get on a bookshelf. There was a lot of talk about debuts not finding their book stocked anywhere, and I realized that ABM might never end up on a bookshelf at all. Authors are being asked to do their own promotion these days; big publishers just say “go viral on Booktok” and throw them to the wolves. I worried about my anonymity.

And maybe this is a stereotypical reason but ABM is very personal, and I knew that it would become an impersonal product the moment I handed it away. I started imagining the marketing they’d do, the things they’d make me say, the cuts they’d make me write. And it’s not that I think I’m a perfect writer who refuses to edit, (I like working with editors), but that I feared they’d turn the book into something else altogether - a husk of itself. So I decided I didn’t want to have a “professional, real, traditional book” and I emailed the agents who had ABM that I would no longer be considering traditional publishing. At this point, I had three options: forget about publishing ABM at all, post ABM on archiveofourown/Wattpad/etc for free, or put in the work and make it an indie book.

I couldn’t forget ABM, because the story wasn’t really over to me (the sequels) but more importantly because people on Twitter and friends wanted it. I considered posting it online for free somewhere, but I had written ABM to be a book. I wanted to see it properly formatted and bound with a pretty cover. I had acquaintances who self-published successfully (Freydis Moon, Kellen Graves), and so I decided to give it a (terrified) shot.

I made a lot of mistakes though. (Distribution for ABM has been a nightmare). I remember in a previous post, I gave the advice that, if you’re interested in self-publishing, you should look into D2D and I stand by that. I’m available for any very specific questions you have! I still love indie publishing and heavily dislike traditional and I love supporting indie authors. Reach out if you need any help with anything!

The publishing process isn’t really over for ABM, of course, given… developments but right now nothing is for sure. (Will ABM get picked up by traditional publishers? Maybe. But maybe not). But this is how things have worked out. Again, let me know if you have any specific questions!! I’m always happy to help.

#will anyone be brave enough to to pick up abm? who knows #but i wish they’d hurry up deciding skskks #but yes ABM was literally self published from tiny apartment at my university at like 2 am in Novemeber #well i announced it and set up preorders a month in advance of the release #but that is all #?? i think #mine #ask #angels before man #i figure ill add this to the tag

[rgenvs3000f23]

Blog 10

Describe your personal ethic as you develop as a nature interpreter. What beliefs do you bring? What responsibilities do you have? What approaches are most suitable for you as an individual?

Hey! For our final blog post, we were asked to write about our personal ethic as we develop as nature interpreters.

I’m currently in my final year of university, and I’m beginning to look for jobs. And for the first time in my life, I’m looking for career jobs, instead of part-time of summer positions. So needless to say I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about what jobs I ideally want, what jobs I’m willing to do, and what jobs I’m not willing to do. Our course readings for this week mentioned a fear of a desk job being a potential motivating factor for pursuing a career related to environmental interpretation. That one did admittedly resonate with me a bit. My last job was more or less of a desk job, where I worked as a research assistant in a lab. And even though, on paper, it was closer to what I want to do as a career, I didn’t enjoy it very much. I missed working in the service industry, I missed the high-energy, social atmosphere, I missed getting to work with my hands and see the results right in front of me. Spending most of my working hours not only indoors, but in a dim lab staring at a laptop just made me irritable. So I’d love to find a job in the sciences that’s more hands-on and active, but I’ve realized I’d happily move away from research if I can’t find a job in that field that lets me move around.

Every week or so I get an email from the university describing job opportunities. It hasn’t been very useful in finding jobs, but it sure has been useful in helping me figure out exactly what place/companies/fields I am not willing to work for. There’s always plenty of decently paying opportunities working for mega-corporations like PepsiCo, and the like, as well as their countless subsidiaries. I know now that I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I worked for a place like that. I would much rather go just about anywhere else, including back to the service industry. I might have a less prestigious career, but I care about having a job that I enjoy doing and that I see as important. During my last job, it was difficult to get up and go to the lab in the morning when I couldn’t really see the effects and importance of the research that was being done. I know that whatever I end up doing, it needs to be relatively active, and even better if I get to spend time outdoors as part of it. As long as I’m still able to spend my free time outside, that much is negotiable.

I wanted to go into more details about my beliefs/motivations/self-assigned responsibilities. First, the rather apparent role of nature in mental health and our current culture around it. Not that I have enough space to go into all of my thoughts on that, but I’d like to include a few of them here. One, on mental health being treated like an individual problem, when it really should be recognized as a systemic one. Even if people admit that it’s systemic, the “solutions” and treatments that are currently popular tend to be highly individual. Take mood-regulating medication, go to eternal therapy, isolate yourself from others in the name of self-improvement. In general, mental health has been both commercialized and capitalized upon. Like I mentioned, I don’t have the adequate space to go through my thoughts on the systemic causes of mental lack-of-wellness. But as I’m sure many of us are aware, spending time outside and spending time with other people (or even both at the same time!) have been shown time and time again to be beneficial to human well-being. Honestly, I don’t think we need more research in that area. We already know, and as much as I like numbers, more statistics aren’t going to save us.

So for me personally, all that means that I don’t want to have a job that drags down the health of other people, or my own. I would love to have a job that helps remove some of the barriers that have been put up between nature and people, which I don’t think should belong in different categories in the first place. But an important caveat for me is that I don’t want my career to be a constant fight. I’m quite tired of war analogies. There’s less of a point in destroying something if there’s nothing better to work towards. I don’t want to dedicate my life to fighting climate change, because I’ll make myself miserable and make everyone around me a little less happy. That’s not to say I don’t care, but I do think that a bunch of sad and lonely people aren’t going to bring about much positive change. Like the video with David Suzuki and Richard Louv mentioned (I think it was Richard Louv who mentioned it), it’s hard to make change if people don’t have any sort of positive idea of a future to look forwards to.

So to summarize as neatly as I can: If I end up doing something related to nature interpretation, I want it to get people excited and help people feel more connected to the world around them.

Picture: One of the Arboretum gardens after a snowstorm

On the same note as working towards something rather than solely working against, I have a book recommendation for anyone looking for a sci-fi story with a positive outlook: Monk and Robot by Becky Chambers (and its sequel)

Thanks for reading!

[xluciifer]

Read you post about internet relationships that become romantic. I agree with it wholeheartedly that it’s more likely to end in heartache. I feel like sharing a tiny bit of my heart that hasn’t fully healed yet. (Tw for disappearance/possible loss)

I met someone online, 13hrs apart. Both of us literally on opposite sides of the world. It was here on tumblr and we met through a fandom. Over the course of a year our mutual standing became more than that. We’d call on discord and video chat, send each other the sappiest messages to wake up to. This online dating lasted 2 delightful years. Until one day, they never logged back on anywhere. None of our friend group nor their followers heard from them or saw them on any other media sites. It was like they vanished off the face of the earth and none of us knew why. I couldn’t even properly look up news reports to find out if something happened. It’s been 3 years, I’m finally allowing myself to be open to finding a relationship in-person. But a large piece of my heart went with them and I’ll never know what happened to take them from me.

My apologies for this super sad and personal story. Your warning about relationships online I felt this may offer another example of caution.

Aww! 🥺 I'm glad you felt comfortable enough sharing your story with me. And I'm really sorry. I resonate with this story a lot because something kind of similar happened to me? Not the part of them never logging back on and disappearing off the face of the planet - but something similar. When I was 16-17ish, I roleplayed in the Kingdom Hearts fandom with friends on FB. We all grew super close the 4 of us, I was the only girl of the group. And I got really close to one of them, we'd talk all the time, roleplay and ship together, call on the phone, everything.

Then one day, I still remember it and have the message. He said he was going somewhere with his dad and he was drunk and his dad insisted that he'd come with and help. That's the last I ever heard from him. We may have dated a year give or take; didn't hear from him in days and a friend from the group messaged me and gave me the hard news. His dad hit head on with a tree and my boyfriend died on impact but his father lived. This happened back in 2011. It's been 13 years - and I'm just realizing that now. He was so young and I think fondly of him often, even if he isn't here anymore. The friend group don't talk to each other like we used to, but every other year or so we reach out to one another again.

So, keep your head up and your heart safe, think fondly of them always. ❤️

#sinner questions. #ooc ; out of heaven

[trenchcoatsbi]

yoo could i ask for a playlist for a tallulah qsmp fictive mayhaps? she has an insatiable hunger for music it's frightening (/silly) ,, she likes soundtracks (child of light is her current fav), stuff like the oh hellos/cavetown/bears in trees, and generally cozy sorta feeling songs, plus anything lullaby-ey if that makes sense :] hope u guys are well! sorry this is a tad long or vague hhaha -–🔉🌠

hello! Admittedly I rushed this a bit I’m not as sure about these as I was about 🌾🪶 Phil’s but I took a swing we’ll see if I missed later I guess. I tried to include as many artists as possible so you have plenty of people to look through since you said she was a bit insatiable when it came to music! I did phone in the last few songs like the lullaby-eque ones. yeah again this was a bit of a mess on my end. Though I have been writing down songs for this for a while I didn't have an easy time narrowing down things as to what I wanted to include so at this point I've just thrown my hands in the air and declared it done now. Sorry if the playlist is messy or unsatisfactory.

Art used is by @/sallomezz on tumblr and can be found here!

Hope you find something to enjoy on the playlist or in my bonus ramblings below! -phil

okay so I kinda cheated my self imposed rule of one song per artist but in my defense I couldn’t choose between Moonlight and Paperwork… They’re my two favorite Fish in a Birdcage songs and I thought both were kinda fitting so oh well both of them are there.

Anywho I could go on and on and on about how I was this close to fighting myself to the death (<- hyperbolic) over this. Let's just get to other recommendations I didn't put on for one reason or another.

Starting with musicians I put on there but didn't include a song from for whatever reason:

Myxrite! My personal favorite song Now and Again doesn't look like its on Spotify at all so uh yeah I'm linking it here because I like it a lot.

Bug Hunter is on there too but he's currently in the top ten of my favorite musicians so yeah here's more suggestions! Go With The Flow and Listen to Your Mom pretty high up there in terms of my favorite songs. Making Up Words is one of my favorites lyrically (though I must say that Disco in the Panic Room is up there too), and of course I have to mention Try My Best and Slow Burn because I keep using lyrics from them to inspire drawings (that I'll never post anywhere online). Okay fuck I need to move on before I link literally every single one of his songs lol

Same as Bug Hunter, The Narcissist Cookbook is up there in terms of my favorite musician + he put the MOTH album (one of his old ones that wasn't on on youtube yet) on youtube recently so he's been in my head a lot. Ghost Stories and UNWELCOME GUESTS (warning: unwelcome guests starts with a phone ringing noise idk my friends always get surprised by it so I'm just gonna mention it in case) are rahgjagh they are so good they exist in my head rent free

Madilyn Mei has been on loop in my head cause a friend of mine. Anyway Six Legs (tippy tappy toes) and Sleeping in the Kitchen. just live in my brain now because of them lol

The actual recommendations that aren't just more songs from folk on the playlist already:

I Fight Dragons! I fucking love them! Their music tends to have techy/8-bit noises and they're a bit more on the rock side of things but their stuff is really good! Good Morning Sunlight and Oh The Places You'll Go... They are the most <3 to me forever... Sunny Afternoon too... God I love IFD I need to make my friends listen to them with me more

If you like IFD you may also like Jonathan Coulton or the portal song guy as my friends know him lol. Nobody Loves You Like Me or Now I Am an Arsonist or really anything from the Artificial Heart Album is always my go to for showing people besides the songs from Portal (Still Alive and Want You Gone) that my friends know.

Similar to IFD, a lot of Going Spaceward's songs have techy noise in the like proper releases, but his youtube has a lot of acoustic versions of his songs that don't have those. His covers are good but really most of his music is just funky. Uh since I will absolutely not narrow this down in any timely fashion I'm just going to link the entire Can You Hear It Album and uh Count Past 23.

Joseph Dubay is a musician I only got into like a few months ago but I really like his stuff, kinda similar vibes to what i was going for with this playlist but a lot of his songs just didnt fit the vibe so I didn't feel like adding them. That being said I am obliged to tell absolutely everyone I talk about music with to listen to Pastel Goth and 4evr so yeah.

Completely different vibe but San Fermin may be of interest to y'all! Astronaut and The Woods are the ones I listen to most from them but everything about their music just scratches the brain itch for me. Their stuff is indie rock which is kinda in the genres of the bands you mentioned!

A bit of a different suggestion but since you mentioned her liking soundtracks AZALI might be a cool youtube channel to check out! They make short songs in FL Studio and idk I'll be honest I don't listen to soundtracks or things like you mentioned in that part of your ask but I do listen to every upload AZALI makes and I think they're all pretty neat. The songs are all like a minute or two long but I like to just put them on loop when I'm writing. Truth, Violence, Warmth is my go to for writing for this specific project, but Mechanical God was how I found their channel and I'm just fond of City of Shattered Glass so there those three are my suggestions.

#phil posts #sbi asks #playlists #qsmp fictive #tallulah fictive #🔉🌠 anon #somethings might be a bit messed up wrote this while half asleep haha #if anything is messed up I'll fix it when I wake up -phil

[ksolars-kreative-korner]

Silver Shield - Part 1

So I saw a prompt somewhere (don't have the reference anymore) where it was like "villain gives hero a drug that paralyzes them but they're still aware and hands them over to sidekick who just thinks they're unconscious, what does sidekick do? help them? betray them?" so I took that and kinda put my own spin on it. I think it turned out pretty okay and didn't know where to post it so I thought I'd drop it here. Also if I should tag anything else let me know! Hope you enjoy!

Part 2 Part 3

“It’s in here somewhere, I’m sure of it,” Gecko said frantically, weaving their way around the boxes littering the warehouse floor.

“I trust you, Gecko,” Silver Shield reassured. “You know that, right? If you say Viktorai is hiding here, I believe you.” They continued on, and after a brief silence Silver spoke up again. “We should split up. This place is huge, and if we’re looking for a secret entrance it could take us a while. Stay in contact with the comms at all times. Viktorai could be anywhere, so be on your guard. And Gecko?” he said, grasping their shoulder and turning them to face him. “Don’t do anything stupid, okay?” Gecko gave a sheepish grin and rubbed the back of their neck.

“I won’t,” they said. Underneath their embarrassment, Silver could see how nervous they were. That was understandable. If they were right, this might be the end of it, once and for all. He gave a confirming nod and a comforting squeeze to their shoulder.

“I’ll go left, you go right, we’ll meet at the back,” he said before slipping off between the walls of crates.

The boxes had been arranged in odd clusters and patterns, more a maze than easy rows, so it took about two seconds before Silver couldn’t see Gecko anymore. He made his way carefully, quietly, always on the lookout for trouble, whispering into his comm and listening for his sidekick’s response. A staticky, garbled voice hissed inside his ear, punctuated by heavy breaths.

“Silver, I think – I think I found it! It’s over by the – wait, it’s opening… it’s him, it’s Vik—” The comms cut off.

There was a scream from across the room.

Throwing caution out the window, Silver rushed around the crates, trying to find his way towards the sound of his sidekick in danger. He finally made it to a small clearing in the endless walls of boxes, and the sight of the limp form in the middle made his blood run cold.

“Gecko,” he gasped, lunging forwards to drop to their side. “Gecko, are you okay? Please be okay, come on, you can’t do this to me now.” He was so focused on his sidekick that he never heard the soft footsteps coming up behind him. The cold pinprick of the needle in his neck was the only warning he had that someone else was there. Silver spun around and came face to face with Viktorai. He growled and tried to leap up at the villain, but his limbs didn’t respond like they usually did. They felt heavy and awkward, and try as he might Silver couldn’t control them. Soon enough, he was lying on the floor, gasping for breath.

I’m sorry, Gecko, he thought. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry I failed.

Viktorai stood above him, laughing at his feeble struggles. “I wouldn’t fight it too much, if I were you,” he said. “The sedative will put you out quickly, no matter what you do. I engineered it myself.” He suddenly grinned. “But of course, I never would have captured you if it weren’t for my loyal assistant Dagger. I suppose you’d know them better by a different name, though, wouldn’t you? What was it you called them? Oh, yes. Gecko.”  

No. No, it couldn’t be. But there they were, standing beside Viktorai, looking down at him with no emotion. Silver tried to speak, but all that came out was a groan. His eyes were closing against his will and he finally gave himself over to the sedative, head lolling to rest on the ground. Gecko worked for Viktorai. He couldn’t believe that, couldn’t believe that his sidekick of three years, three years, would do this. How could he not have seen this coming? And wasn’t he supposed to be unconscious right now? Though Silver couldn’t move, he could still feel the cold floor under him and hear the villains’ voices.

“Good work, Dagger. You did well.”

“Thank you, master.” A moment’s pause.

“I have a gift for you that I think you’ll like.” Silver could hear the smirk in Viktorai’s voice. “You get to kill him.” Another silence.

“Are you sure, master? You’ve waited a long time to get him in your power. You’re willing to let me deal the final blow?”

“Oh, yes. I think you deserve it after spending so much time with the wretch. It must’ve been torture, always having to ‘do the right thing’ and ‘stand up for the good of the people.’ Ugh. Just, do something terrible to him for me, alright? Cut his fingers off or gouge out his eyes or something. Other than that, as long as he’s dead I’m happy. He’ll wake up in about eight hours, but I’ll give you the whole day off so you can do whatever you like to him. Be back at the lab tomorrow evening. The city is almost ours, Dagger, and no one can stop us now! Now, go grab what you need and get him out of here,” Viktorai finished, chuckling a little to himself. Gecko’s – no, Dagger’s – footsteps echoed around the chamber as they left to go get who-knows-what kind of torture tools. Silver felt Viktorai still above him, and suddenly a voice hissed in his ear.

“I know you’re still aware, hero.” He spat the last word out like a curse. “I engineered the serum myself, remember? A mix of muscle relaxants, paralytics, and a few other choice ingredients. Dagger gets the pleasure of killing you, but I get the pleasure of knowing you’ll feel every last bit of pain. I wonder how they’ll go about it. Torture? Drowning? Maybe just a simple bullet to the head. Whatever they do, you’ll know you died at the hands of your most trusted friend. How does that feel?” Viktorai caressed Silver’s cheek with a cold hand. “Goodbye forever, Silver Shield. I’ll be sure to raise a statue in your honour when I rule the city.” He drew his hand back, and Silver was left alone on the floor of the warehouse, helpless, unable to move or make a sound.

#hero #villain #sidekick #superheroes #writing #ocs #cliffhanger #there's more parts coming #like two more #if people like this #also probably if they don't like it #ignore the names i got them from a name generator cuz naming things is hard #silver shield #tw drugs #needles #betrayal #tw drugging #whump #kind of

[deancasbigbang]

Title: The Shadow of Mount Seelie

Author: butterflyslinky

Artist: lotrspnfangirl

Rating: Mature

Pairings: Dean/Cas, Past Dean/Lydia, Implied Cas/Lilith

Length: 38000

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Implied Rape/Noncon Past Minor Character Death, Domestic Violence, Torture, Murder

Tags: Single Father Dean Winchester, Fairy Tales and Folklore, Mild Sexual Content, Fairy Castiel

Posting Date: November 9, 2022

Summary: Dean and his daughter Emma have moved to the peaceful village of Mount Seelie, where everyone gets whatever they want. Dean soon finds that the villagers are hiding something that seems to center on the odd but handsome local handyman, Castiel.

Excerpt: “Hello, Dean.” Cas looked awkward, but happy. “Thank you for inviting me.” “Yeah, of course.” Dean led Cas inside. “Sorry if I’m a little in and out, I’m working on this single-handed.” “I can help,” Cas offered. “No, you’re a guest.” Cas shrugged. “I hate not working when someone else is. Besides, I’ve observed a certain camaraderie is formed when cooking a meal together. I would like to share that with you, if it’s all right.” Dean just stared at him for a moment. “Um…okay,” he said. “I could use some help, yeah.” Cas smiled and followed Dean to the kitchen. Dean was still trying to sort out what kind of camaraderie Cas could be looking for. Sure, Dean knew that women formed close bonds in the kitchen, but he didn’t know any men who had. Then again, Dean hadn’t exactly grown up in the sort of family where men helped in the kitchen, or indeed, the sort of lifestyle that involved a kitchen at all. Luckily, Cas seemed to be as handy with food as he was with everything else. He chopped vegetables efficiently, had a good mastery of pastry dough, and a good knack for measuring even though Dean’s measuring cup was very worn and hard to read. “Is there anything you can’t do?” Dean jokingly asked. “A few things,” Cas said, his voice and face completely serious. “Though nothing that would generally be a problem in daily life.” “Must have lived an interesting life to have that many skills.” Cas stared straight ahead for a long minute. “More than you can imagine,” he said. They were silent for a moment. “Were you born in Mount Seelie?” Dean asked. He realized that he knew very little about his guest, but he desperately wanted to know more. “No,” Cas said. “I was born in Scotland. But I was brought over a very long time ago and I’ve been here ever since.” “Your family bring you?” “Yes. But they’re all dead now.” “But…” Dean was trying to work it out. “How did you end up…?” Cas studied him for a moment. “How did I end up what?” “Homeless. Wasn’t there a house for you to inherit?” “The house is gone, and it wasn’t home without my family anyway. I couldn’t stay on the property, so now I don’t stay anywhere.” “Do you want to?” Maybe Dean had gotten it wrong. Maybe Cas was happy as a drifter; Dean had met enough men like that in his life to understand at least a little. Hell, Dean’s father had been a man like that. “I do miss having a place to go every night,” Cas said. “And I miss having a family. But right now, I’m just grateful I can stay in town and make myself useful.” “Well, you’re welcome to come here any time,” Dean said. “And stay as long as you need.” Cas looked at him, and Dean thought he might cry. “Thank you, Dean,” he said. “That means a lot to me.”

DCBB 2022 Posting Schedule

#dcbb 2022 #fic preview #2022 promo #deancas #destiel

[ecm-writes-sometimes]

Shorts and Scraps: On Love, Part 1

[Shorts and Scraps are comprised of short stories that wouldn’t fit anywhere else, or scrapped scenes that I have yet to find a place for]

Table of Contents

- Parallel Lines Who Meet (33 words)

- Always and Forever (553 words)

Parallel Lines Who Meet

The first time I saw her, the words left me.

The last time I saw her, the words left me.

Maybe someday, I’ll see her again, and

The words will leave me again.

---

Always and Forever

[Bruch Romanze in Fmaj for Viola and Orchestra, Op. 85]

Sitting on a bench with her beside me, my stomach was filled with butterflies. I don’t know when I realized it, but once I did, the stars themselves paled in comparison to the light in her eyes, the sunshine of her smile, the sweet song of her voice. As she talked about her day, I got lost in her eyes, the amber glow of the setting summer sun reflected in her eyes like dark chocolate.

She turned to me and smirked. “You’re not even listening, are you?”

I felt my ears turn red. “N-No, of course I was. Something about a new piece you were learning?”

She smiled again and exhaled out of her nose. “Yeah. The Bruch Romanze. I started learning it because you suggested it, you know. I really like it so far.”

I perked up slightly, excited. “Really? You do? I-I’m glad, usually my suggestions fall flat with people.” I turned my face away for a second, as I calmed back down. At least on the outside, anyway. I felt like fireworks were going off in my head. “Does this mean that we’ll be able to play it together soon?”

“About that....” She looked at me, and I could see pity in her eyes. I began to dread whatever she was going to say next. “I..I’m leaving tomorrow. For Europe. I don’t know how long I’ll be there.” She looked at me again, the smile fading from her face. “To be honest...I don’t know if I’ll be coming back here at all.”

Butterflies turned to knots. “Oh.”

We sat in silence for a while, interrupted only by the occasional rustling of the trees. I impulsively tapped my foot against the pavement of the sidewalk, restless, heart racing.

“Before I forget. I have something for you.” She looked through her bag, then extended her arm out, hand closed. “Hold out your hand.” She held my open palm, and opened hers. “I hope you like it.”

I looked at what she had put in my hand. An origami turtle. It was sturdy glossy paper, but in that moment, it was as fragile as memory itself. I stared down at it, and read the words, written in her rounded lettering, the words in neat, centered lines, black ink prominent against the yellow-green paper:

Some souls just understand each other upon meeting.

I held the turtle in both hands, taking in the words. Silence again, but only for a few seconds this time. I looked up, and our eyes met.

“...Thank you. I really appreciate this.”

She smiled again: the pink clouds reflected in her eyes, but even those felt tinged with blue. “Something to remember me by.”

More silence.

A car rolled up to the sidewalk, the rumble of its engine drowning out my jumbled-up thoughts. She stood. “This is me, then.”

I couldn’t bring myself to make eye contact. I had so much to say, and yet, no way to say it in the little time we had left.

She started to walk towards the car, but paused, turning back towards me. “You will remember me? Even if I never see you again?”

Finally, the words came to me, and I looked at her one last time. “...Yes. Of course I will.”

“Promise?”

I stood and swallowed. “I promise. Always and forever.”

---

Author Note: Let me know what y’all think of me posting Shorts and Scraps like these; there’s a lot of stuff that I have tucked away but have never found a good place for, so I’d be willing to post different things to fill the space in between long chapters (that I’m still having trouble writing) and to explore different subjects! Cheers.

#shortsscraps