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ghostchems · 7 months

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infernal - terzo x f!reader - part two

art by the lovely @stainedlilac

author’s note: part two is here! been stewing on this for about a month now. 18+! mdni! i just think that infernal terzo is so pathetic and delicious, i want to eat him up. part one is here. ao3 link. about 5.4k words :) let me know what you think! this really feels like it is something special to me.

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You didn’t sleep well the night before. Maybe the satanic imagery you had been sifting through or Mr. Golden Bachelor’s general creepiness had gotten to you. Or maybe it was the constant flow of ideas and plans that flooded your brain on how to fix up his dismal mansion. It had so much potential. Whatever the true reason was, you spent most of the night tossing and turning, unable to get comfortable or relaxed enough to get deep sleep. Then again, at least it was different from your nightly twelve hour depression sleep. You aren’t sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

The drive back to his house goes rather quick and even though you have only driven there once, you feel as though you are on autopilot until you reach the end of his driveway. You can’t help but feel anxious. This is your first full day as his employee and you don’t even know what to expect. There is still the uncertainty creeping up into your thoughts that this might not work out anyway. If anything, it makes you feel just a tiny bit less nervous. Just a tiny bit. You grab your back from the front seat and sling it over your shoulder, taking a moment to stare at the quiet, foreboding home in front of you.

The door is unlocked. You take a short moment to decide whether or not you should knock but since you are an employee, you decide to walk right in. The house seems more quiet than the day before and for a moment you wonder if Terzo is even awake. Then you hear soft sounds coming from next to the sitting room. You make sure to stay silent as you walk toward the sounds, keeping your bag slung close to you so it doesn’t make any noise.

“I miss you… you know that, right?” There is a hint of sadness in his soft voice.

You quickly determine that whatever conversation he is having is private and you definitely do not want to listen to more of it, especially since you don’t know him that well. You try not to make a sound as you take a few steps backward, then you turn fully around scurry on to the dining room.

Terzo doesn’t remember Hell. He gets flashes of images and gut feelings of pain every so often but other than that it is a big black hole in his memory. When he first arrived at this house, though, he noticed a peculiar rotary phone in what is now his office. He assumed it came with the house… until it started ringing. After initially ignoring the calls, he eventually picked up only to hear shrieks and growls, sounds that brought back the hazy memories of hell to the forefront of his mind. He began to grow bored of the calls but the voices started to grow clearer over time.

One of the voices ended up being Omega’s.

Omega had been banished to Hell by the Clergy for being a distraction. Little did they know, the ghoul had been the one who held Terzo back from complete insubordination. Once he was gone, Terzo went off the deep end, becoming more and more disobedient to the higher ups in the clergy, ultimately ending with him being dragged off stage and removed from power.

He was unsure if they came into contact while he was briefly deceased. Omega wouldn’t give him a straight answer on the subject no matter how much he pressed. He also would not explain to him what the hellphone is for. Even with Omega not really giving him any answers, he was always glad to hear from him, even if sometimes it hurts.

“It’s not the same without you here. It hasn’t been.” Terzo leans back in his chair and props his feet up on his desk, toying with the phone cord.

“I know.” Omega’s true voice is much different than his earthly one. It’s low and barely perceivable by the human ear and yet it stings.

“I have hired someone, though — an assistant. I think maybe they will help spruce this place up.” Terzo pauses for a moment, then gives a soft sigh. “And maybe be fun to play with.”

“You must be lonely, bello.” Omega rumbles and Terzo can’t help but offer a quiet groan. It has been a while since he’s heard any kind of compliment, let alone one from Omega, his former flame.

Terzo hums in response then lets comfortable silence fall over the conversation. He always hoped when he would pick up the phone it would be Omega but every time it was… well, difficult to find topics of conversation. They are both stuck in their own personal purgatory. Which only leads to one place in Terzo’s mind…

“So…ehhh, what are you wearing?” He purrs into the receiver and is met with more silence followed by a “click”, disconnecting the call. Terzo slams the phone down on the receiver with a growl. The nerve of Omega to hang up.

He leans back in his chair, the sound of the leather squeaking beneath him until his eyes fall upon a lone joint right next to his computer. He smiles widely at it as he snatches it up, lights it with the tip of his finger and brings it to his lips. The smoke fills his lungs as he inhales deeply and holds it there in his chest. Terzo has always been an advocate for the Devil’s lettuce but he definitely uses it more now that he has been forcibly retired — mainly because there isn’t much else for him to do.

The familiar haze begins to fall over him, a nice feeling of relaxation and sleepiness causing him to rest his head against his desk for just a moment…

The next thing he knows, he’s waking up with his cheek smushed against the top of his desk. Terzo groans quietly, rubbing his head before he realizes it is now the afternoon and he hasn’t seen you yet today. He lazily climbs to his feet and shrugs off his robe, leaving him in his sweats. He figures it’s high time the boss made an appearance but hesitates for a moment as he eyes the half-smoked joint.

You’ve spent the morning organizing and packing up the many odd books in his collection. There is one that has caught your attention, though. When moving some things around it dropped and opened, your eyes immediately snapping to it as if it was calling out to you. Your hand hovers over the page, eyes focused on the image on it. A man with his face painted and similar robes to the ones you’ve seen on the photos you’ve gone through stares back at you. He looks angry. You let your fingers brush over the text beneath the portrait.

Papa Emeritus the Second took the Ghost Project soaring to new heights. Despite this, he was still removed due to failing to overthrow governments and churches. His younger brother (by three months) took over after him.

You lift the book and walk back to the table, waiting to sit down before turning the next page. His eyes stare back at you, familiar mischief shining behind them.

“Naughty girl.” Terzo purrs from the doorframe, a sleepy smirk stretching across his face. His cheeks are flushed and the whites of his eyes are bloodshot. His smell is distinct and your brain crashes once you realize that he is stoned. You take in his messy hair and half-lidded eyes before your eyes drift to scar on his neck. It’s jagged, the scarred skin raised in a pronounced way and it is a lighter color than his olive skin. You don’t want to stare but an overwhelming feeling of despair creeps up your spine. There is something wrong with the scar. It looks deep and like whatever kind of wound it came from was incredibly painful. You almost ask what happened but then your gaze drops–

His gray sweatpants barely hang onto his hips and it’s obvious he has gone without underwear today. You would feel like this is incredibly inappropriate if he wasn’t looking at you with such a seductive grin and all thought of his scar has now vacated your mind. Terzo lazily strolls up to the table and snags the book out from in front of you. He claps it shut and tosses it to the other side of the room.

“You are not here to be nosy, puffetta.” He purrs as he leans against the side of the table, his eye fixated on you. “You are here to organize and ehhh, be tidy.” Terzo giggles then takes a seat on top of the table in front of you.

“I wasn’t being nosy, I was being curious.” You quip but immediately feel some anxiety — you still don’t know Terzo that well and talking back to your boss isn’t something you wanted to do on your second day. The anxiety fades as he dramatically rolls his eyes and scoffs but he can’t hide his smile. “Besides, a lot of these books have a distinct look to them… kind of hard not to be curious.” You push one of the leather bound books in his direction. Terzo scoops it up and then leans back on the table until he is laying down, his hairy chest just in front of you. He opens the book to look at the title page.

“Satan and YOU: A guide to converting to a blah blah blah…” He snores and drops the open book on his face, pretending to be asleep. You blink at him but find yourself grinning; this man is a goof. Terzo peeks at you from over the top of the book, his mismatched eyes looking right through you.

“Okay, okay. They at least look cool. You could always display them, you know.”

“Display?” He slips the book off of his face, placing it on the table next to him and brings his hands up to rest underneath his head.

“Yeah, do you have any bookcases or shelves or—“

“I’ll think about it, mio toppolino.” Terzo muses then slowly sits up and gazes down at you. “Let us see what snacks I have.” He swings his legs over the edge of the table and hops down to his feet, a hand resting on your shoulder and then tugging lightly at your shirt to follow him. You get up and follow close behind him, your eyes fixed on his strong back and shoulders, admiring the proportions of them to his waist.

Still, your gaze starts to drift back to the scar. How is a scar like that even possible? It’s evenly spread along his neck, fully connected even though it is jagged. What could have caused it? The more you look at it, the more you think maybe it’s some kind of edgy tattoo. He was the lead singer of a dramatic rock band, after all. All of your thoughts fade when he turns his head, looking back at you to make sure you are there and gives you a smoldering glance.

Where was this charm yesterday? Maybe it’s related to the weed.

“Do you smoke, puffetta?” He purrs as he starts to open cabinets above the counter, one after another with most of them being empty. You settle yourself against one of the counters.

“Sometimes.”

“Want some now?”

You raise your eyebrows slowly at him. You are on the clock and he is offering you marijuana. Sure, this has happened to you in a corporate setting but it was more like “here, have some edibles to take when you get home”, not while on the clock.

“I’m okay, thanks.”

Terzo gives a small shrug then continues to go through his cabinets before finding a lone box of cheerios. He stuffs his hand into the box and starts to munch on them while he stares off in your direction. It’s awkward but you are grateful to spend some time “getting to know him” even if he is high out of his mind. Your initial assessment of him still stands though — he is a mess.

“Do you need groceries? I can put in an order to be delivered.” You pull out your phone.

“Oh, si!” He hops off the counter and hurries over to you, box of cheerios in hand. “Could you get me some doritos?” Terzo is right next to you now, his chest nearly pressing against your shoulder as he peers at your phone screen. You open the app and hand it to him.

“Pick what you want but… I mean, I guess you should pick some actual food and healthy stuff, not just snacks.”

Oh, how cute. Terzo’s eyes widen, his cheeks turning red and he has the overwhelming urge to grab you and pull you in close to him, to tell you that you’re his now, that he’s never letting you go. He knows he can’t, it would be too much too soon but he wants you so badly. And how adorable is it that you are concerned with him eating healthy? It’s only the second day and he can’t get enough of you.

“I will be sure to get some… strawberries.” Terzo says with a giggle and starts to scroll through the local grocery store’s offerings. He focuses on the screen in front of him and the pictures of potential snacks while you wander away from the counter. The kitchen is a dark teal with light marble counters but barely anything on them. There is a small bar area with stools that look like they would fall apart if you sat on them. You figure he doesn’t do much cooking or entertaining guests. A large bay window captures your attention, showing the sad state of the backyard.

The yard is covered in brush and fallen branches, the grass overgrown and dead. Brick walls line the yard with a short iron fence along the top of. Both could use some attention.

“You have a pretty big yard.”

“Mmm?” Terzo looks up at you with wide eyes, the corner of his credit card in his mouth. He quickly finishes typing in his credit card information into the phone, keeping his eyes on the screen. “Whaff?”

“Your yard, it’s nice. Have you thought about getting a landscaper to fix it up?” You lean against the side of the window. Terzo’s gaze flits up to you and he messes with the phone in his hand.

“I believe this is why I hired you, eh?” He saunters towards you, wiggling your phone in his hands. “To help make this place live-able.” Terzo stops just in front of you and hands you your phone, his fingers lingering on yours.

“But don’t you have any ideas for what you want? Like a garden or something?”

Terzo visibly recoils, his brows knotting and his lips pressing into a thin line. “A garden.” He whispers then gazes out of the window for a moment. “My older brother was more of the gardening type. I ehhh… don’t have much of a green thumb.” He holds up his thumb and smiles weakly. How badly he wants to take his thumb and press it inside your mouth while he forces you to your knees in front of him and —

“Well, we can always start small with some tomatoes or something.” You give him a kind smile and he all but melts. He hums in agreement and steps in closer, hovering just beside you, your hands nearly touching as he gazes out into his overgrown yard. Never has the thought even crossed his mind to go outside let alone having a garden. But having a garden with someone? Terzo brushes his arm against yours, trying to be slick about it but failing. He hadn’t realized how touch starved he is until he feels your warm skin against his.

“I should get back to it. Uhh… your food should be in, like, twenty minutes, Mr. Emeritus..” You say after checking your phone, eyes flitting up to his as you take a step back. He is squinting at you, the corner of his lip twitching. “Mr. Papa?” You try again and he audibly groans.

“No, no. Call me Terzo, per favore.”

“Okay, Terzo. Food will be here soon.” You walk back into the dining room, leaving him alone in the kitchen. Something is buzzing inside you. Curiosity, you think, or at least that’s what you’re telling yourself. Were you flirting back with him? Yes, the answer is yes. The vibes are certainly different than those you were hit with the day before. You are no stranger to getting some attention on the job, having work crushes in the past that never really amounted to anything (by design, of course), but this is different. The setting is so intimate and half the time so far he is hardly wearing clothes.

Unpredictable. He is unpredictable.

The rest of the day is smooth with Terzo floating around the house, always making sure to stay somewhat close to you to see what you’re doing. He has a different snack each time and offers you some which you politely decline. By the time the end of the day rolls around he’s gone, probably asleep somewhere.

You feel it was a productive day. Leaves crunch beneath your feet as you walk from the porch back to your car, your backpack slung across your shoulder. There is still some stress bubbling up in your stomach. You think about how you’ve seen so many colors of him already and it’s only the second day.

You wonder what Terzo you’ll be getting tomorrow.

***

Terzo can’t get enough. His face is buried between your legs, his mouth and tongue working you over as he groans and pushes further into you. He digs his fingers into your thighs and ruts his hips against the mattress. The taste… your taste makes him moan, nearly whining for more and more, his cock leaking and pulsing with each lap of his tongue. He feels invigorated, finally tasting you and putting his expert skills to good use pleasing you.

He is hardly holding on, his cock throbbing and he frantically grinds against the mattress and sheets, the tension building in his abdomen and leg muscles. Terzo swipes his tongue sloppily along your folds, desperate for you and your taste. He tries to stay composed, to stay in control but it’s all too much and he comes undone, your name on his lips —-

Terzo’s eyes open and he realizes that he’s been sloppily sucking on the corner of his pillow. He lifts his head and eyes the damp pillow, then rolls over to find that he came in his paints. A guttural growl rips from his lips as his fingers dig into his sheets, then angrily tears right through them with his sharp nails. He is so impatient, so needy for you even his dreams are cutting to the chase.

But he knows he still needs to bide his time. It’ll be all the more delicious that way. Doesn’t mean that he can’t be a little bit cranky about it, though.

Terzo peels off his briefs and tosses them across the room, landing in a pile of dirty clothes off to the corner. He lays in bed naked for a moment, his mind wandering back to what his mornings used to look like. They weren’t so different than now, starting off with him alone in his room but he would at least have people fawning over him and following him around all throughout breakfast and his duties. He used to enjoy the quiet time on his own when he could get it but now…

But now all he has is you.

He swings his legs off the bed and slowly pushes himself to his feet, shuffling toward the bathroom. The bathroom is black marble throughout with a shower and bath in one corner and another clawed, golden bathtub in the center of the room. He turns the hot water on for the bathtub, and only the hot water. Ever since he came back from Hell, he could withstand scalding heat and is unable to enjoy his baths any other way. Terzo skims his hand along the surface of the hot water, his thoughts far away as he watches the tub fill.

Him and Omega used to take baths together. Sometimes they ended up being a couple of goofs, playing around with bubble bath and other times, it was the start of a rather long night for the both of them.

He slips into the tub and sinks down into the scalding water until everything is fully submerged except the top half of his face. Terzo glares over the still water, his gaze settling on the golden faucet. Anger and frustration bubbles up inside of him, the overwhelming feeling of being so isolated taking its toll on him.

It’s not fair. He did more for the Ghost Project than any of his brothers. As if the power didn’t go to their heads at all… as if the power isn’t going to il Cardinale’s head right now, and yet Terzo was the one who was punished and humiliated for it. He growls from beneath the surface of the water and his hands drift up to grip onto the sides of the tub.

At least he isn’t dead.

Terzo tries to remind himself of this but sometimes he thinks maybe he would be better off reaping the benefits of being the Morningstar’s mouthpiece in Hell with his brothers. Maybe he would be able to see Omega and the other ghouls that were banished after he was removed.

His eyes refocus on the bath and he notices that water bath water is now boiling around him. Terzo yelps and scrambles out of the tub, slipping a few times before making it onto the cool marbles floor. He looks down at himself, water droplets glistening on his perfect skin and he is shocked to see that he is totally fine. His eyes drift back to the tub, the water now still but murky. He grabs a towel and dries himself off, keeping a watery eye on the tub as he makes his way to the bathroom mirror to embark on his usual morning routine.

Moisturize. Apply face paint. Stare at himself while naked. He flexes his muscles, his gaze falling over his body as he moves to highlight each area. He’s grown a bit of a pouch of a stomach but it doesn’t bother him too much — he’s not twirling or running around on stage anymore, he’s earned a little bit of pudge. Terzo can’t help but slip his hand down to give himself a few lazy strokes, the thought crossing his mind of you seeing him naked for the first time, as if you haven’t seen enough already.

He runs his free hand through his soft, damp hair. Terzo has been lazy lately, letting his hair dry however it feels like. Sometimes it came out in nice waves but most of the time it stuck up in all directions and also somehow fell into his face. He feels different about today, though. He grabs his product and starts to style it, taking the time to make sure it’s perfect. His hair has grown longer than he’s used to with it curling behind his ears and at the top of his neck. He does it best to smooth it down.

His reflection looks weary but reminiscent of how he used to appear onstage during the beginning of his reign. Terzo’s grip on his half hard cock tightens, a grunt spilling from his lips before he tears his eyes away from the mirror and lets himself go. He strides out of the bathroom and slips on a fresh pair of briefs.

Terzo is feeling a certain way today. He wants to look good… maybe because of you. He saw the way you looked at him yesterday, how your eyes wandered over his body and your cheeks grew rosy. His lips quirk into a grin as he thinks about it. Or maybe he wants to look good because he wants to feel good. He opens his vintage armoire, his gaze flitting over The fanciest loungewear he has and he’ll wear it for you, a plush black smoking jacket with a golden collar and gold detail that goes down to his knees.

He ends up back in front of his mirror, admiring himself in his smoking jacket. Despite being pleased with his appearance, the anger and frustration still boils deep inside him. The hoops he had to go through just to get attention these days… the way he now has to tiptoe around getting what he really wants from you when before he could just have it. He is touch-starved and hasn’t fucked in quite some time, the fact he was buzzing just from brushing his arm against yours, that ever since you started (two DAYS ago) he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about taking you, tasting you, fucking you, to the point that he came in his sleep.

It’s pathetic.

Another growl rumbles up from his chest and he finally leaves his bedroom, assuming that you should be here by now.

His assumption is correct. It is nearly lunchtime now and you’ve been diligently cataloging and boxing up the remaining memorabilia for most of the morning. You feel a little bit lighter, a little bit more comfortable in the job, even though you know your responsibilities will most likely change once you are done with the dining room. And from what happened yesterday… you are looking forward to seeing Terzo and wonder where he must be. Maybe still sleeping?

When you arrived that morning, a piece of paper was left on the dining room table. It was your resume with incredibly beautiful script scribbled on the back of it: your job offer in writing with a higher salary than was mentioned in the past. You can’t help but wonder if it’s because of how things went yesterday, how you two had flirted and talked for the first time.

You would hate to admit it but he was the last thing you thought about before falling asleep last night. It was the most restful sleep you’ve gotten in a long time.

Maybe this is where you’re meant to be. Still though, you think about the deal you made with yourself a few days ago – sticking around until the first paycheck and then re-evaluating. You had good days at your previous job but that didn’t make you hate it overall any less.

Critical thoughts dissipate as he enters the dining room, your face going blank as you take in what he’s wearing. He looks dapper – put together even! You blink a few times then clear your throat.

“Good morning.” You croak, realizing that you haven’t spoken for the better part of the morning. Terzo gives a soft grunt in response and he offers a tight lipped smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I see you have made great progress.” He hums as he stalks around the dining room, examining the boxes and the neatly printed sheets of paper taped to them with the contents of each listed out.

“Yeah, almost done.” You smile brightly at him, feeling yourself start to warm up just from him being in the same room as you. “Have you given any more thought on which of your books you want displayed?”

Uncomfortable silence fills the room as you watch Terzo’s face turn from indifferent to twisted anger.

“I DON’T WANT THEM DISPLAYED, I WANT THEM GONE!”

You are knocked back into your seat from the volume of his voice. His teeth are bared and sharp canines almost hang over his lower lip, deep snarls ripping from his throat as he glares at you from across the table.

“The entire reason I hired you is so you would do what I say and get this shit out of my SIGHT!” Terzo hisses as he slams his fist down on the table, one of the dim bulbs illuminating the room shatters from the mere strength of his voice. You are frozen, seated at the dining room table that is nearly clear of his memorabilia now, your eyes glued to his fiery ones. He leaves you, the door slamming behind him and it feels like the entire house shakes from it.

You look down at your hands which are laid out on the table, watching them tremble. His voice was so strong, so much so that you thought you could feel it booming in your own chest. It’s terrifying that he has that sort of power and that his mood could switch on a dime just like that. So angry and over what? A question? Still though… you can’t ignore the throbbing ache between your legs. Usually being yelled at terrified you, having been afraid of making mistakes or getting in trouble from a young age, but you’ve never felt this before.

You clear your throat again, trying to calm yourself down but your cheeks are on fire. He looked at you like he wanted to devour you, like he wanted to punish you. You wet your lips and suck in a deep, shaky breath. Your thighs press together and you squirm in your seat as you try to get back to work, organizing a few different variations of white gloves. The thought comes to your mind about what it would feel like if he spanked you wearing a pair of these gloves.

You drop the pair and bury your flushed face into your hands, incredibly embarrassed by the thought.

Maybe you like it when he’s angry.

Meanwhile, Terzo spends the rest of his afternoon pacing in his office in a panic. He’s afraid he’s ruined everything now. You certainly weren’t going to stick around after he yelled at you like that and he wouldn’t blame you. Sure, there were moments when he was Papa that he was prone to having angry outbursts. Usually Omega would be the one to bring him back down to Earth or if it occurred after he had gone… well, Terzo ended up feeling justified for the behavior, being Papa and all.

But this isn’t the clergy. He has no protection. He only has you and he could have fucked it all up. Terzo didn’t want to start the process over again of finding someone to help. He only wants you now. He sits on top of his desk and runs his hands through his hair, strands having fallen out of place due to his outburst.

You have gathered up your things and start to make your way to the front door when the door to his office opens and he steps out. Terzo fiddles with his hands, staying silent until he is closer to you, his eyes focused on the ground before drifting up to your gaze.

“I am so very sorry, mio toppolino.” He sounds quiet, heartbroken, even. “That was inappropriate of me.”

“Oh.” Your grip on your backpack tightens, a blush rising across your cheeks. “It’s okay. Really.”

“No, it is not. It is unacceptable.”

“Terzo, it is really okay. I mean it.” The blush only spreads, covering your cheeks and moves up to the tips of your ears. Your eyes are wide and you can’t control yourself from giggling, trying to cover it up with a couch. You feel insane.

He is staring at you, really staring at you, and his eyebrows knot in confusion. Then, it hits him. You want to play with him. Terzo’s lips stretch into a cat-lick grin, his eyes turning seductive. This is quite the development. He feels his cock jump in his briefs but he remains collected.

“Since you don’t want your stuff displayed, maybe think about if there’s anything you would want in your office. Looks kinda sad without any stuff in there.” You quip before turning to the front door and leaving him standing in the sitting room, watching you go as his hand slips into his jacket and then down his briefs.

#papa emeritus iii x reader #papa emeritus x reader #papa emeritus iii #terzo #terzo x reader #ghost fanfic #ghost fanfiction #ghost fanfics

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reticent-writer · 1 year

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Blood demon art: Plants P1, P2, P3, P4, P5(current), P6,

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　

Rengoku gave you a ticket as the man approached. You gave it to him to punch.

'Somethings wrong.' you thought as you smelt the newly punched ticket. Its faint but you can definitely smell lower moon Enmu. The lights started flickering and suddenly you were back at the infinity castle. In your father's experiment room.

'this can't be right.' you looked around to find something- anything out of place. Nothing.

You could hear footsteps approach the room.

The door opened.

"Papa!" You ran up to him as he kneeled getting himself ready for impact as your body hugged him, a near bone crushing hug if he was human.

"I'm sorry papa, I only wanted to see the flowers I never wanted to cause you trouble." You sobbed into his shoulder as he comforted you.

"What are you talking about, Y/n? What flowers, you have a flower garden in here?"

"Oh right my flower garden. Can we go there I wanna show you something." You pretended to be confused, You realized this was a dream. You didn't wan to wake up.

--------

"Ah little Y/n your father is worried to death over you, let's get you home yeah." Enmu said from the first car.

He sent a child to bring you to him.

It's uncommon for a demon to sleep as soundly as you but it was also hard for you face reality. You caused many problems for your father and against his wishes. However, you weren't guilty of it. In fact your glad that you were able to see the outside world and meet so many people... The same people who want to kill demons.

You want everyone to get along but it's not that simple. You'd rather not think about it.

What a mess, a sad tragedy.

"Did I do good?" The child brought you laid you in front of Enmu.

"Yes you did, A wonderful dream awaits you."

The poor girl fell to the ground. dead.

"Y/n~ I would what you could be dreaming about." Enmu pet your head. "I would've never thought my little spell would work on you."

--------

*back in the dream*

Dragging him to your flower garden you sat him down it the center.

"Blood demon art: Botanical Communication." (name is a work in progress)

As your demon art activated the flowers around started to dance and change color creating a beautiful display of mesmerizing imagery. You danced with the moving flowers as they formed each image. Muzan clapped and encouraged you to continue.

The images you made mimicked the things that you have seen on your time outside of the castle.

This might be a dream but It's the happiest you've been in a long time.

'I should wake up now... I should- shouldn't I'

--------

The train has now been completely taken over by Enmu. You were in his 'head' with the conductor to watch over you. It wasn't long before Hanafuda and the boar man to know that and start attacking it.

They successfully killed the lower moon and broke the spell on you.

You woke up in tear on the ground. Looking around you see the derailed train behind you. You try and push you self up failing to see you right arm and leg have been broken.

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　

Tag list: @american-idiot21, @unhappy-filling

Y'all ready to see Akaza. I'm making a poll in the next one. You decided how the story will turn after that.

#male reader #female reader #gn reader #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #child reader #x child reader #muzan x child reader #demon slayer x child reader #kny x child reader #reticent writes #reticent writer

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madokamagicasecrets · 8 months

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I have some thoughts about the potential direction of Walpurgisnacht Rising after sitting on it for a while and watching the speculation on the part of Madoka fans.

I have a strong feeling that when Homura changes the universe at the end of Rebellion that my old theory has been confirmed, namely that she's only been able to create a pocket in the universe where things are dictated by her. We see this radius of influence when the corruption from her hostile takeover spreads across multiple star systems until solidifying into a sphere.

This frame of the "mystery girl" also hides an extra detail which may point in that direction, namely a barrier composed of the lizard sigil that represents devil Homura. We already know that Madoka's arrows pierced the veil of the incubation field. Perhaps she's trying to do the same?

Another odd detail is the presence of 2 Homuras. I don't necessarily think this is literal, though. It's possible that a second Homura does actually exist, but most likely only because much like the incubation field Homura's world is shaped based upon her desires and cognition, and this second Homura may be trying to say something about her. But what, exactly? Well, we know that this decision was really hard for Homura, in fact Rebellion implies that she's bordering on suicidal as a result of it. I posit that the second Homura represents her mental conflicts. She loves Madoka and wants to protect her and knows that what she's doing is selfish and that she's imprisoning someone she loves. It's the war that's being waged in her own mind that I think these 2 versions of her represent. I think that's who she's talking to on the phone, in a metaphorical way that's being represented quite literally. Note the way that the voice on the phone implores her to "bring hope" and "release that girl".

Another point of interest for me is the role of incubators in Homura's world. At the end of Rebellion she very openly states that she still relies on incubators as a system, but she's definitely very resentful towards them and is seen abusing one near the end of the film. One detail about the movie that I think is important is the recurring imagery of Kyubey's eyes. Throughout the majority of the film Kyubey is totally silent and we see repeated shots of his glassy, detailed eye. However, when being tormented at the end of the movie the art style changes into something more cloudy and abstract. I've wondered for a while if this would be the start of an incubators developing emotions and potentially contracting itself. I can't say for certain right now if that's the case, given we don't see incubators in the trailer at all, but given they all seem to be trapped in Homura's world with her, we may see something like that emerge in the plot.

Speaking of the incubators, some have brought up the possibility that the contract system now flows through Homura herself instead of Kyubey. It's hard to really verify this yet, but we do have some evidence pointing in that direction, mostly in the form of parallels. Homura's new world is very similar to the incubation field. It even shares some similar golden clockwork aesthetics with it. Note the way the moon is represented split down the middle with clockwork components apparent in the new trailer. I think that this new world is being run much like the incubators did, with Homura in charge of the "experiment". Has Homura become the monster she once hated as a result of her selfishness, trapping Madoka in the very same prison that she was tormented in?

It's also potentially significant to mention what the phone Homura uses in the trailer morphs out of: the same salamander seen in Rebellion that is squashed when she turns into Homulilly, except now instead of the typical purple and black tones, it's a bright red. Does this signal a potential rising frustration and anger, perhaps at herself for the reasons I listed above?

The version of Homura that we see in the trailer has a black hairband. Given she answers the phone and seems very confrontational with the person on the other end of the line, we have to assume that the other Homura has the red hair tie that she wore in Rebellion. This is significant because this hair tie belonged to Madoka and she puts it back in her hair near the end of the movie. The ribbon is her only physical memento from Madoka's existence before she became the law of cycles, and if you've read wraith arc you know that Homura has a significant crisis slowly forming that crescendos in Rebellion where she can't prove that Madoka ever existed. This is exemplified by her new memory manipulation magic rather than time manipulation. Remember, she doesn't have time magic anymore. She only had it in Rebellion because the incubation field caused her to develop a world based upon her memories.

So, if you didn't want to read any of what I wrote above, here's my primary hypothesis for what this movie is gonna be about.

Homura knows that this experiment is deeply flawed and as such her psyche has manifested a second version of her, a more sentimental version that wants this whole thing to come crumbling down and let goddess Madoka take her. In this sense it's quite a bit like Homura trying to figure out the truth behind the incubation field and Madoka and the girls trying to rescue her. But now it's Homura fighting against herself. The black hairband Homura is in charge and the red hairband one takes up the challenge of trying to overthrow her. The mystery girl on the trailer could be Homura. The lighting and framing make her appearance a bit ambiguous, but she has a bow. Many point towards Madoka on that front but Homura also had a bow, featured at the end of the original series. We've just gotten so used to her return to scavenged weapons in Rebellion that this detail has been forgotten. I also feel as though the Walpurgisnacht imagery may be literal in the sense that Homura's imagination may conjure up a transformation, but I think it's intended to be more of a metaphor. Homura's world harkens back to a longstanding theme in the shoe of incredibly powerful beings trying to escape despair through false realities. Homura is the stage master now, whose nature is helplessness (trapped by her own selfishness), and has in a way become the monster she faced so many times. And now she has to stop herself. It may even be possible that the other girls with their altered outfits are allying with this renegade Homura to help her stop herself, much like time loops past. I don't think this will manifest as a time loop where Homura becomes Walpurgisnacht because her existence was represented by a gramophone in Rebellion, aka a broken record. And at the end of the movie it literally explodes because she's shattered literally any chance of this loop happening again. This is the end for all of them.

I think this hypothesis is headed in the right direction but ir definitely neglects some details in the trailer, such as the finer points of the girls and their altered designs, the mystery girl, the role of the incubators and the second Homura, as well as if these signs that I've taken as metaphor may be more literal than I assume. I'm hoping that others can help fill in these gaps for me. Maybe by the time the movie releases we'll have predicted the entire meat of it, lol.

#madoka magica #pmmm #puella magi madoka magica #madoka magica rebellion #walpurgis no kaiten #walpurgisnacht rising

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q-theeccentric · 11 months

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Sampo Koski Lore Notes

Because we love our HSR conman, Trailblazers all over the internet have begun to form many theories surrounding our beloved scammer. There are a lot of details about this man that are peculiar, and for those like me who love to overanalyze their favorite characters and how they contribute to the lore, I have created a list of notes about Sampo that point to him being downright suspicious.

Warning: Very, very long post ahead.

He is has a lot of intel apparently... where does he get them from?

Knowledge Voiceline: "Come on, how did you guys end up in the middle of the Snow Plains? UFO? Let me guess, you took a train, haha. Seriously though."

About Natasha Voiceline: He's not from the Underworld.

He loves money; money is considered to be a form of pleasure; does this refer to the Masked Fools being hedonists?

Turn Begins 1: "We're just having fun." Elation??

Hit by Heavy Attack: "Hey! W-watch the face!" Sampo is not really the type to be narcissistic… unless this is a pleasure-related matter…

Ultimate: Unleash: "Betraying the king" is often seen in literary works and other similar fictional media, and these types of things are often used for pleasure and entertainment

Return to Battle, Health Recovery, Natasha's About Sampo Voicelines: He's also… altruistic?

Hook's About Sampo Voiceline: He can be everywhere

Character Story: Part I: He slips away easily

Character Story: He is good at disguises, as if he's an actor… as if he were wearing a mask… because actors and masks and roles… Masked Fools foreshadowing?

Character Story: Why did they choose this specific story to be the one in his profile? The tale seems so random… or is it?

Character Story: Everything is purely dialogue… almost as if it were a script. If we compare it to the others, they have character stories that match them well, such as Bailu, whose character story is in the format of a prescription because she is a doctor.

Light Cone - Eyes of the Prey: "In reality most prety don't realize when danger is encroaching. This one's no exception." After reading the description, it may seem weird since Sampo noticed the sniper BUT what if the sniper is the REAL prey?

Light Cone - Eyes of the Prey: "So that's what greed looks like. That amount is equal to several of my contracts already… No wonder someone wants him dead." Another reference to money being a form of pleasure.

Light Cone - Eyes of the Prey: "As if these thoughts were broadcasted out loud, the an in the scope turns his head, looking straight into the eyes of the sniper. 'I've been waiting for you. Would this much be enough for you to hear me out?'" The EYES of the PREY refers to the SCOPE of the SNIPER. The light cone depicts Sampo from the EYES of the PREY.

Splash Art: The city in the background is likely NOT on Jarilo VI

Splash Art: It looks like he's jumping off a ledge or something similar

Design: @littlekiara96 noticed that his design refers to death a little too much due to the amount of skeleton imagery on him…

Kit: His technique is to blind enemies, which may call back to the fact that he slips away easily without anyone noticing

Kit: Why are his weapons blades that turn into boomerangs and not anything related to his obvious line of work?

Kit: His basic attack is called "Dazzling Blades"; I might be overthinking but the word "dazzling" is something I would hear when one describes an actor…

Kit: His skill is called "Ricochet Love"; "ricochet" often refers to projectiles bouncing more than once off of a surface (verb) or a shot that bounces more than once off of a surface (noun)---so where does the "love" come into all this? Love is another form of pleasure; I don't know but this skill reminds me of the Masked Fools again just because of all the bouncing more than once off of a surface and the love thing..

Kit: His ultimate is called "Surprise Present"; Sampo can be called a master of the element of surprise as he often appears suddenly without anyone suspecting him to---the present can also be something unexpected and weird (like a RICKROLL) which gives off MAJOR Masked Fools vibes…

Kit: Why is his element Wind?

Kit: Why is his path Nihility? @gachagen pointed out that Nihility characters hide secrets (Welt, Pela, Silver Wolf, Kafka). For my own observation, Nihility states that the universe is meaningless while Elation states that the universe is one big joke; both paths seem to infer that the universe has little meaning…

Kit: Half his Eidolons are about his scamming business and the other half are about… love and enthusiasm; both aforementioned concepts seem to call back to the Masked Fools and Aha the Elation…

Achievements: Versatile Joker is a hidden achievement until it is unlocked… does this fact and the achievement itself indirectly infer to Sampo's secret connection to the Masked Fools and Aha the Elation?

Missions: Besides Pela, Sampo is the only other 4-star character from Jarilo VI who does not have a companion mission yet

Character Traits: He BOWS like an actor (as seen in the Jarilo VI Trailblaze Mission), as if he is bowing for his PERFORMANCE

Character Traits: If I had a penny for every time Sampo was aware that he was being watched like how Aha did in the Simulated Universe (Jarilo VI quest conclusion, Eyes of the Prey light cone), I'd have two pennies… which isn't much but it's weird that it happened twice…

And that's pretty much it! Feel free to add more observations in the replies, or reblog too.

#sampo #hsr sampo #sampo koski #honkai star rail sampo #honkai sampo #sampo honkai #honkai star rail #star rail #hsr lore #hsr theory #cw long post #cueue's other thoughts #cueue's eccentric theories

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wavesoutbeingtossed · 3 months

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Screaming from the crypt (or how the past haunts the present on Midnights)

I know it's been discussed so much since Midnights came out but just.

I love how there is such a clear narrative throughout the album (and perhaps especially on the 3am/Vault tracks). About questioning and regret and choices and coming to terms with all of it. It is one long story about how we're all a mosaic of the choices we make, each one taking something from us and leaving something else in its place.

(And now a disclaimer: I'm looking at this mostly through a narrator/subject lens, and trying not to dive too deeply into real-life events or speculation except for in a general sense. For this purpose I like to look at the body of work as art, like literature, because I find it makes it easier to see the common threads in the different songs and cohesion in the narrative.)

In looking at the 3am+ tracks in particular, it's fascinating how some turns of phrases or themes repeat themselves in different songs, in different contexts. (I'm only focusing on the non-standard tracks because there are too many songs and I'd be here all day but I bet I could do a part two lol.) I know many people have pointed out the parallels throughout her discography already and I’m not saying anything groundbreaking by writing this, but I love how these parallels run through in the same album, because it makes it seem like it's one long story, or at least, one long rumination on many different stories that are coalescing into a single narrative.

Battle (let’s go)

For instance, the one that jumped out at me when I started writing this post the other week was, "Tore your banners down, took the battle underground," in The Great War and "If clarity's in death, then why won't this die? Years of tearing down our banners, you and I," in Would've, Could've Should've. It's a story about staying stuck in the same cycle of reliving trauma and coping mechanisms and bad habits over and over again and fantasizing about how taking the “antagonist” out and gaining the upper hand for good would bring closure (WCS), but the truth is that nothing ever will. All that cycle does, though, is repeat itself in other situations, and in this case pushes someone away the narrator cares for (TGW). The difference is that the imagined battle in WCS is a two-way street in her mind (that is ultimately unwinnable because it was never a fair fight), but in TGW it's one-sided -- she's the one fighting dirty, taking shots, the way she'd been doing in her imagination (or nightmares) all these years. But the person in front of her isn't fighting back the way the person in her mind in WCS would, because their intentions are honourable instead of exploitative.

And that's paralleled in another pair of lyrics from the two songs, "And maybe it's the past talking, screaming from the crypt, telling me to punish you for things you never did," (in TGW) and "The tomb won't close, I fight with you in my sleep," (in WCS). In both cases, the funeral imagery makes it seem like this past event should be dead and buried in WCS, but it keeps rising from the dead, haunting her no matter what she does and in TGW, another (or perhaps the same?) tomb that won't close keeps unleashing new ways to hurt her and in turn the new person in her life. In other words, the trauma from the past continues to bleed into the present.

(Again from a literary point of view, I'm not saying the events of the two songs are linked IRL, but they're fascinating textual parallels on the album as a string of chapters, which is why Dear Reader is so compelling, but that's a whole other essay.)

To keep the battle motif going, there’s yet another parallel, this time between TGW’s "[You were a] soldier down on that icy ground, looked up at me with honor and truth," and You’re Losing Me’s "All I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier, fighting in only your army.” In the former, the subject is laying down his armour in the war she’s projecting onto him, waving the white flag, and she realizes that she’s about to destroy something if she doesn’t put her sword down too. By the time we get to YLM, the roles are almost reversed; at the very least they’re supposed to be on the same team, but in this case she’s doing all the heavy lifting, fighting for their relationship in contrast to his apathy killing it. It’s also pretty interesting (if not outright intentional) that one of the 3am+ editions of the albums starts with The Great War, where they find themselves in conflict (even if it’s in her head) that ends in a truce, and ends with You’re Losing Me signalling the end of the relationship, evidence that the resolution in the first song wasn’t an ending but merely a ceasefire before the last battle.

Putting the rest under a cut because this is waaaaay too long now ⤵️

(There’s also another metaphor there in The Great War with its battle imagery: World War I, aka The Great War, was supposed to be the war to end all wars, because loss on its scale was never seen before and when it ended, most thought never again would the world embroil itself in such battle, the horrors and implications were so devastating. Two decades later, the world found itself in WWII, with an even larger scope and more horrific consequences, the intervening time between the two a period of festering conflicts and resentment leading to some of the worst acts the world would see. Bringing real life into it for a second, there’s something a little poetic, though sad, about The Great War the song being about a fight that could have ended the relationship that they ultimately resolved and was meant to be evidence of the strength of their love, but so too did it end up being a period of détente, the greater battle coming for them years later. But that is not the point of this post.)

If one thing had been different

Another major theme in these editions is pondering the "what ifs?" of life, but I think it takes on even more significance in the broader context of the album in the lyrics of "I'm never gonna meet what could've been, would've been, should've been you," in Bigger than the Whole Sky and the repetition of would've/could've in Would've, Could've, Should've (I would've looked away at the first glance, I would've stayed on my knees, I would've gone along with the righteous, I could've gone on as I was, would've could've should've if I'd only played it safe, etc.) In both songs, the narrator is mourning an alternate course their life could have taken* and questioning what they could have done differently, in the aftermath of trauma and loss, and the regret that comes with that loss, and with the loss of agency in the situation because ultimately it was never in their hands. In an album full of questions, wondering about the path not taken, or the forks in the road that have led to a different version of your life, it's digging deeper into the contrast of choice vs. fate, action vs. reaction, dwelling on the past vs. moving on. When you're supposed to let go of the past, what do you do when it is holding your future hostage?

(*I know there are different interpretations/speculation about BTTWS which I am not getting into on main. I'm just saying that whatever the song is about, it's grieving something that never came to be. The literal origin of the song is less important to the album than the sense of loss it portrays. Whatever the inspiration is, it's crafted to tell part of the story of Midnights of ruminating over how, to borrow from her previous work, if one thing had been different, would everything be different?)

(Also I was today years old when I realized that the words are inverted in the two songs. Apparently I've been hearing BTTWS wrong this whole time.)

There's also an interesting tangent in the role of faith in both songs: in WCS, the events of the story cause her to lose her faith (e.g. "All I used to do was pray," "you're a crisis of my faith,") and question all the things she felt had been unquestionable until that point in her life (e.g. "I could have gone along with the righteous"), whereas in BTTWS, she questions whether that very lack of faith is to blame for the loss in that song ("did some force take you because I didn't pray? [...] It's not meant to be, so I'll say words I don't believe"). It's like pinpointing the moment her life changed and upended her beliefs (WCS), but as a result then leaving her unmoored in times of crisis because ultimately there's no explanation or comfort to be taken from what she used to hold true before that (BTTWS). The words she once relied upon to guide her have long since lost their meaning, but in times of trouble it leaves her wondering if that faith she once held then lost could have prevented this pain.

(Shoutout to WCS for being Catholic guilt personified lol.)

To keep on with the vaguely faith-y notions, an obvious parallel is the line in Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve about, “I damn sure never would've danced with the devil at nineteen,” and, "When you aim at the devil, make sure you don't miss," in Dear Reader. All of WCS is about her fighting with an antagonist who haunts her, with whom she wholly regrets ever becoming involved. DR could be seen as a reflection on that fall from grace, warning the audience that if you choose to go after the person (or thing) haunting you, make sure you do so clearheaded enough to be decisive. Again, these “devils” may not be related in real life: the IRL devil in DR could be speaking about her naysayers, or Kim*ye, or Scott & Scooter B, etc., meaning not to cross your enemies until you know you can win. But taking real life out of it and looking at it textually, I am intrigued by the link between WCS and DR, so that’s what I’m going with here. And perhaps that’s even the point in a wider sense; there will be multiple “devils” in your life, or threats to your well-being. If you’re going to commit to taking them down — whether it’s an actual person, or the demons inside you that refuse to let you go — make sure you have the right ammo so that they can no longer hurt you. (Of course, one lesson from these experiences is that sometimes you can’t win, and you have to live with the fallout.)

(Sidebar: I know that “dancing with the devil” is a turn of phrase that means being led into temptation and engaging in risky behaviour, as opposed to describing the actual person. Given the religious metaphors in the song, that could very well be/is the intention, particularly when it’s preceded by, “I would have stayed on my knees” as in she would have continued to follow her faith — in whatever sense that means — had she never met this person, which could also be a more eloquent way of saying she would have continued to be live her life in a way that was righteous (even naive) and seen the world in black and white. Either way, it’s a force she wholly rejects. Like I said, multiple devils, same fight.)

Regret comes up too: in WCS, she says, "I regret you all the time," obviously directed at the person who manipulated her and led to her perceived downfall, citing him as the one impulse she wished she'd never followed, because it won't leave her no matter how hard she’s tried. In High Infidelity, she tells the person to, "put on your records and regret me," and on the surface, it’s like she’s turning the tables, painting herself as the one now causing the regret in someone else, the one inflicting the pain this time. Yet the verse preceding it and the lines following it in the chorus depict a partner who is also emotionally manipulative and vindictive like in WCS (“you said I was freeloading, I didn’t know you were keeping count,” “put on your headphones and burn my city,”). It’s not so much that she’s intentionally harming the person (the way the person in WCS does to her), but rather that the venom in the subject’s feelings towards her seeps through; she’s imagining the way he’s going to feel about her when she leaves, hating her just for by being who she is. (There could be another tangent about how in both songs she’s there to be a “token” in a game for both of the men, who play her for their own purposes.) The regret is dripping with disdain. It’s as though she’s picturing how the person is going to hate her for doing what she’s thinking of doing the way she hates the person who first hurt her.

Sadness, unsurprisingly, shows up in a few lyrics. In BTTWS, “Everything I touch becomes sick with sadness,” sets the scene of a person so overcome with grief that it permeates everything around them; they cannot see their way out of it and feel like the fog will never lift. In Hits Different, it’s, “My sadness is contagious,” the result of a breakup where the person’s grief again touches everything and everyone around them, pushing them further in their despair and loneliness. The reason behind the grief in either case may vary, but regardless of the source, the feeling is overpowering and isolating. They may be different chapters in the story, but the devastation is hauntingly familiar. (As is a recurring theme in Midnights as a whole: there are situations and feelings that present themselves at different points in her journey and colour in the lines in different ways along the road. Like revisiting an old vice and realizing the hit isn’t quite the same as it was in the past.)

Death by a thousand cuts

She also writes about wounds on this album, which isn't surprising I suppose given that the whole conceit is that these are things that have kept her up at night over the years. WCS is perhaps the driving narrative on this never ending hurt when she sings, “The wound won't close, I keep on waiting for a sign, I regret you all the time,” suggesting that no matter what she does, the pain of this experience has permeated everything she’s done afterwards. (Not unlike the overwhelming grief in BTTWS, for instance.) Elsewhere, in High Infidelity she sings, "Lock broken, slur spoken, wound open, game token," and in Hits Different, "Make it make some sense why the wound is still bleeding.” Again I'm not suggesting they're about the same events; the line in HI is about a situation where a partner crosses a boundary, hits below the belt, picks at an insecurity (or creates a new one) and treats the relationship like it's transactional, opening the floodgates in turn. In HD, the wound seems to be more self-inflicted, where she's pushed the person away. (Over a situation real or imagined she feels she needs distance from.) But again, something has picked at her like a raw nerve, and just like in the past, she's hurting, even in a different time and place and person. Almost like the wounds of the past break open over and over again to create new scars. If one were to extrapolate further, it wouldn’t be the biggest leap to wonder if the wound open in WCS, then torn apart in HI makes the one in HD hurt even more.

(I once wrote a post about how I think as time goes on, WCS is going to turn into one of those songs that will be found to drive so much of her work, because it’s just… kind of the unsaid thesis statement of so much of her songwriting.)

Another repeated theme is that of the empty home and loneliness. In High Infidelity, she sings, "At the house lonely, good money I'd pay if you just know me, seemed like the right thing at the time," painting a picture of someone who may have everything they'd want to the outside world, but in reality feels metaphorically trapped in their home (or at least alone amidst abundance), a symbol of a relationship gone sour and a failure to build connection. She just wants someone to understand her, want her for her, but as she's written earlier in the song, she's just a pawn in the game, a trophy from the hunt. Home, in this case, is lonely, isolated, an emblem of her fears. In Dear Reader, she continues this thread, then singing, "You wouldn't take my word for it if you knew who was talking, if you knew where I was walking, to a house not a home, all alone 'cause nobody's there, where I pace in my pen and my friends found friends who care, no one sees you lose when you're playing solitaire." It's the same idea, admitting to listeners that the gilded cage she lived in kept her distanced from her loved ones and real connection, keeping her struggles close to the vest but feeling desperately lonely amidst her crowning success. She's pushed people away and it may have felt like the right thing at the time, but in the end maybe felt like she was trapped. And when you push people away, eventually they take you at your word and stop pushing back; you’re a victim of your own success at isolating yourself. What starts out of self-preservation then further perpetuates the underlying problems.

(There's another interesting link about "home" also feeling unsafe with HI's "Your picket fence is sharp as knives," which further leads into the theme of marriage/domesticity feeling dangerous, which is a whole other thing I won't get into here because it's another discussion and may derail this already gargantuan word salad.)

In a slightly similar vein, we have the metaphor of bad weather for a rocky road or unstable relationship, in High Infidelity again with, "Storm coming, good husband, bad omen, dragged my feet right down the aisle" and You’re Losing Me’s "every morning I glared at you with storms in my eyes.” They aren’t speaking of the same situation or even same kind of breakdown, but it is pretty interesting how the idea of clouds/storms/floods/etc. play such a role in Taylor’s music to signal depression, apprehension, fear, uncertainty, etc. In HI, I think the “storm” coming is the looming threat of commitment to a partner who makes the narrator uneasy (if not fearful). In this case, the idea of making a life with this person is not one that incites joy or comfort, but instead makes the narrator feel that dark times are ahead if she continues down this path. Perhaps in some way, the “storms” in YLM have made good on the threat in HI in a different way; it’s a different home, a different relationship, but the clouds have settled in regardless, and some of her fears have come to fruition in ways she did not expect. The person she once trusted no longer sees her or her struggles (or worse, doesn’t care), and the resentment and pain build with each passing day.

Coming back to heartbreak, one of the obvious "full circle" moments is the beginning of a relationship in Paris, where she says that, "I'm so in love that I might stop breathing," clearly enthralled in a new love that allows her to shut the world out and grow in private, capturing the all-encompassing nature of the relationship. This infatuation has consumed her in the most wonderful way (in contrast to the sorrow of some of the previous songs), and it feels like a life-altering (or even life-sustaining?) force that is so strong she may forget what it’s like to breathe. (Metaphorically speaking, of course.) By the end of the album, though, in You're Losing Me, that heart-stopping love has become a threat: "my heart won't start anymore for you." In the former, her racing heart is full of excitement, but by the latter, her heart has given out completely under the weight of the pain she bears. (YLM is full of death/illness imagery which I already wrote about awhile ago so I won't hear, but needless to say that song deserves its own essay for so many reasons.) She's gone from the unbridled joy of the beginnings of a relationship to the unrelenting sorrow of its end, two sides of the same coin.

Love as death appears elsewhere in the music too, for instance, in High Infidelity’s, “You know there's many different ways that you can kill the one you love, the slowest way is never loving them enough" and You’re Losing Me’s “How can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dying? […] My face was gray, but you wouldn't admit that we were sick.” Though not completely analogous situations, they both tell the tale of one partner’s apathy (or at least denial) destroying the other. In the former, the partner’s actions (or inaction) are more insidious, if not sinister; in the latter, the lack of momentum (or admission of a problem) is passive. In both cases, the end result is the narrator’s demise; it’s a drawn out affair that chips away at her morale and her health and her sense of self. (Breaking my own rule about bringing in alleged actual events into the discussion, but the idea that the relationship in High Infidelity, which was obviously fraught with unease and even fear, ended in a similarly excruciatingly slow and hurtful death by a thousand cuts as the relationship in You’re Losing Me almost did at that time must have been so painful. It almost feels like YLM is wondering why what used to be a source of light in her life was mirroring a situation that caused her such pain in the past.)

From the same little breaks in your soul

I said early on that part of what is so compelling about Midnights is that it feels like an album about ruminating — on choices, on events, on people — and the two final “bonus” tracks of the album depict that as well. In Hits Different, she sings that, “they say if it’s right, you know,” an ode to the confusion of a breakup and struggling with the aftermath of calling it quits. It’s a line that has always intrigued me, because the typical use of the phrase is in the sense of, “you’ll know when you meet the one,” but here it seems to have a double meaning, a reassurance perhaps from the friends (who later on tell her that "love is a lie") that she’ll know if she’s made the right decision in calling it off, but could also be her wondering if the relationship is right, she’ll know, and want to reconcile. In the final bonus track, You’re Losing Me, she sings, “now I just sit in the dark and wonder if it’s time,” this time leaving no doubt about the dilemma she faces, though it’s no less fraught. She’s wondering, perhaps for the last time, if now is finally the moment to end the relationship for good. They say that if it’s right she’ll know, and now she’s wondering if that feeling inside her (that once told her her partner was the one, which is why it hit differently), is telling her that it’s time to go for good. Wait Alexa play “It’s Time To Go.” These are not only the things that keep her up at night, but the things that play over in her mind like a film reel in her waking hours.

Midnights as a whole is a deeply personal album, as is most of Taylor's work, but the 3am+ edition tracks seem to dig even deeper to a lot of the issues raised on the standard album. Almost like the standard tracks are the things she wonders about on sleepless nights, but the bonus tracks are the things that haunt her in the aftermath. The regret, anger, sadness, grief, relief, even joy— they’re the price she pays for the memories she keeps reliving. Midnights might be the most cohesive narrative of all her albums, and really does feel like we’re watching someone work through her journal over time, stopping short of outright naming those giant fears and intrusive thoughts (except for when she does) but making them plain as day when you connect the songs together, and perhaps never more clearly than in the expanded album. It’s incredible how the songs stand on their own to relay a specific moment in time, but that they are also self-referential to each other (whether thematically or overtly) to weave a larger web over the entire work. We’re so lucky as fans to have these stories and to keep peeling back these layers as time passes. (And my literature-analysis-loving ass loves her even more for it.)

This is obviously by no means an exhaustive list, and I know there are more parallels and probably even stronger links (particularly when you add the standard version into the mix), but these were the ones that particularly struck me and I’m just glad I’ve had a chance to sit with this and think it through. ❤️

#writing letters addressed to the fire #me thinking too hard about taylor lyrics #taylor swift #midnights #long post #lyrics analysis #song parallels #Gabby this one is for you friend <3 #here goes nothing #Happy Friday or something idk!#(also i know i said there are things i wouldn’t discuss on main but my dms are open lol)#this is not as structured or well plotted out as I wanted it to be #and turned out to be more stream of consciousness than legit essay #but whatever at least i got my thoughts out there and it can release some plot of land in my brain for other stuff to think over lol #If anyone ever reads this thank you! And I’m sorry?#The best compliment i ever got in school #was when we were doing an analysis of a poem in English lit in college #And i brought something up casually #and my prof went ‘I’ve been teaching this class for eight years and that’s the first time anyone’s ever brought it up like that’#’and that just blew my mind’#and i was like ‘who me?’#so that’s all you need to know about me lol #Midnights: The Great War #Bigger than the whole sky #bttws #Midnights: Paris #Midnights: high infidelity #would’ve could’ve should’ve #Midnights: dear reader #midnights: bigger than the whole sky

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chronicbeans · 1 year

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Wally Darling with a Restoration Project Reader (part 3)

It's been a few weeks, now... You feel like something is wrong...

TW: Mentions of Hacking, Scopophobia/Eye Imagery

🗞️ Daniel has been having more and more mail sent his way. The time you all spend in Finn's house, restoring Welcome Home merchandise and media, is getting longer and longer. Your mother has been getting more and more snippy about it all.

🗞️ You grab an old book titled "Happy Birthday, Barnaby!" Opening it up reveals how it's Barnaby's birthday and Wally, Julie, and Sally are all planning to throw a surprise party for him. What you have found with almost every single item that has Wally in it is that he is, most of the time, looking at you. Well, the person looking at the material. Even on the page where everyone is telling Barnaby happy birthday. The rest of the neighbors are all looking at Barnaby, smiling and clapping as he blows out some birthday candles. Wally, however, is looking at you. His body is turned to face Barnaby, but his head is turned towards you, his eyes locked onto you.

🗞️ You put the book down, asking the rest of the group "Wally seems rather odd, huh? He's like... my favorite, but he is very eerie. Do you have any theories as to why he stares at us?" Amy makes a face of concentration, before saying "Well, Wally is meant to make a connection with the children watching the show. It is probably because they want to emphasize that connection, or make it stronger through eye contact." She then clasps her hands together, continuing "I really wish they did that with Julie! She is so cute!" "HOLY-! WHAT?!"

🗞️ Everyone looks over to Finn, who has been looking at the Welcome Home Restoration Project blog on his laptop. His eyes grow wide as he says "Y'all, I think someone has hacked us or something! Look! I found this link beneath the Wally character file on the neighborhood page! It leads to... this..."

🗞️ He turns the laptop around, showing you all a dark page. After a few moments, an image fades in of Wally, sketched in red, facing one of Home's windows. Home's large eye shakes, with red seemingly leaking from it. Wally's kneeling down, his left arm outstretched.

🗞️ You can't help but watch and think. Why is Wally kneeling like that? Why is Home watching Wally so intently? Is Wally inside or outside of Home? Why is it so dark? You ask Finn "Was there anything else odd on our blog?" Finn nods "A bunch of out of place letters."

🗞️ Daniel looks around, before saying "I'll check it out. Maybe this could be the work of whoever is sending us this stuff? The letters could mean something. Amy, you continue working on restoring the art. (Y/N), you can manage the guestbook. We can all work together to try to figure out what this all means."

🗞️ Amy tilts her head, before asking "Should we all like... I don't know... pick a set of characters to research? I feel like it would be difficult for any of us to remember so much about every character when we are learning about them through little dribbles of content. We might get confused and mix them up with one another." Daniel thinks about it, before looking over to you. "What do you think about that idea? I don't want to just say yes to it. This is all very interesting, so I don't know if focusing on a couple characters will make some of us feel left out..."

🗞️ You find yourself immediately responding. It is almost as if it were an instinctual reaction. "I will focus on Wally, Home, and Barnaby." Daniel's eyes widen a bit at how blunt and quickly you responded to his question. He slowly nods "Alright... I'll focus on Frank, Howdy, and Eddie..." Amy decides to focus on Julie, Sally, and Poppy. Finn shrugs, saying that he will just stick with the blog, and that any remaining characters you all find out about will fall onto him.

🗞️ You take some of the restored media with you when you go home. It is all about Wally, Home, and/or Barnaby. Your mother seems to have already gone to bed by the time you get to the house.

🗞️ Quietly stepping up the stairs, you enter your room. It's a bit of a mess, due to how you spend all your free time at Finn's house these days. You keep forgetting to clean it. Placing the pile of papers and books onto your desk, you get a text from Daniel. It simply reads, in all capitals, "GO TO THE NEIGHBORHOOD PAGE ON YOUR PHONE."

🗞️ You quickly do so, the unspoken rule between the group being that texts in all capitals conveys an extreme seriousness that must not be ignored. In cases like these, it is the equivalent of STAT.

🗞️ You go to the neighborhood page on the blog. You are shocked to find that every link is messed up, almost as if they were moved upwards. The image of Home, as well, has been moved to reveal a dark void either behind or beneath the red house. Within that void is a small, white spiral.

🗞️ You don't know why, but you feel a chill looking at it. You can't look away, either. It's kind of like it has infected your brain, causing your mind to spiral, as well. Thoughts and questions fill it to the brim. It is so hard to do so, but after a few minutes, you manage to break yourself away from the void, and go to bed.

#Welcome Home #welcome home arg #wally darling #wally darling x reader

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munsonsreputation · 1 year

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Thinking Of You

eddie munson x fem!reader

inspired by "Thinking Of You" by Katy Perry

word count: [14.6k]

warnings: no use of y/n, angst (a lot of it), yearning for one another, cursing, a tiny bit of physical violence at the end (like two bits), fluff ending (i don't do sad ending here...i'm not sane enough, sorry).

summary: breakups were never easy, especially when you knew that eddie was your soulmate. even when you get a new boyfriend you can't help but think about eddie every time you're with him. so you write a song dedicated to eddie, based on flashbacks comparing your relationships, but not realizing he's there listening...along with your current boyfriend.

“Thank you, everyone!”

The youthful girl's squeaky voice pitching through the exceedingly powerful microphone and its speakers jerking you out of your blank stare at the stage.

Hands naturally clapping as did everyone else who watched her wave and exit the stage through the back, then come down and take her seat somewhere in the front row.

This afternoon was Hawkins High’s annual song contest. Few participated due to the particular criteria that the board of administrators created, but those who did had a chance at winning a five hundred dollar scholarship to use towards any college tuition.

Something you needed. Especially knowing that you wanted to get into a music art school out of state.

But just thinking about where you found your passion for music and the reason why you were here made your heartbreak a little. Or more like a lot.

Eddie Munson.

The metal head with agile fingers striking over the guitar strings and its frets to Metallica or Ozzy was the whole reason you were here in the first place.

He was the one who helped turn your love of writing into music.

“You could make this into a song you know?” He had said to you, passing back your peer reviewed poem to you with his red markings on the page.

But really, they were all just compliments in the margins. Commending your use of metaphors and imagery, writing devices he knew made a good writing and even better songwriter.

Somehow that afternoon, after creative writing class you two found yourself in the drama room, him teaching you how to pick at the strings on the acoustic guitar and coming up with notes and melodies that matched your poem.

It was love, instantly.

The way he’s fawned while you played the guitar and sung out the pure lyrics to him that came to you out of now where throughout the day, every afternoon.

In his bedroom.

In your garden.

In the drama room.

Over the phone.

Your music had no confines and his joy for listening to you, became joy for talking to you, laughing with you, stuttering over notes with you, to being with you wholeheartedly, and thinking of you constantly.

And so it wasn’t unforeseen when he asked you to be his girl by writing you a song. Lyrics laced with pledges of forever and how he’d write songs with you for the rest of his life if it meant spending restless mornings and nights trying to come up with a catchy song together.

You wanted nothing more than that. Finding comfort in doing the simplest things with him, even if it was just scribbling lyrics into a mangled up journal and fumbling around guitar stings until your fingertips bled.

But just like every other love story, there always seemed to be something that would spoil the love that you thought you’d never lose.

“Hey honey.” You shivered, fingers gripping the arm rests when you shifted your head around and spotted the eyes of your current boyfriend Don along with some of his friends who were sitting nearby in empty seats in the small auditorium.

“What are you doing here?” You quietly hissed harsher than called for, palpable disturbance covering the looks of his friends and specifically your boyfriend, who tilted his head at your remark.

“To support you! That’s what a good boyfriend is supposed to do, right?” He claimed, as if that would make you feel any better and forget about the agreement you made them make, which was now broken.

You hadn’t wanted any of them to show up and especially not Don, because the original song you had written for the contest was far from nice towards him.

In fact, it did nothing but smear his name with the notion that he was second best and was always going to be in your eyes.

Disenchantment spread on your face, narrowing your eyes at him, “You promised me, Don—you all promised me.”

“I came all this way to support you and now you’re acting out.” He tried to look even more hurt than you, but you knew it wasn’t right for him to lie and break the one thing he was supposed to keep.

You were going to counter, to snap back and tell him you didn’t want his support and nor did you ask for it, but your name being announced interrupted you.

Only giving him a stern look before you stood up, your voice telling him no lies, “Leave before you get your feelings hurt.”

Eddie sat in the far corner of the auditorium with his legs hiked up on his chair. A hat covering his head and for once his distinct leather jacket in the middle of summer now traded in for a flannel he had borrowed from Wayne—trying to blend into the rest of the audience who were watching in on the open event.

Before the two of you had separated last summer, you went on to tell him about how during your senior year you were going to take part in the song contest so that you could use the money towards your tuition if you had gotten accepted into your dream school. Sure, it wasn’t no Juilliard, but it was something…something you could afford even if you didn’t end up winning the song contest.

“Well, that didn’t look too good.” Max muttered faintly, separating her eyes away from you and Don on the other side of the room where you looked rather agitated.

Her best friend El bowed wistfully and propped her cheek on Max’s shoulder, peeking over at Eddie, who looked tense. Following you walk up the stage with your guitar in hand.

The one and only guitar you had owned.

The one Eddie had gifted to you with your name carved on the back along with butterflies and flowers. The mahogany wood he could never mistake and especially the bright colors of your guitar strap that you had picked up with him at a garage sale. The leather material seeping with nature’s creatures, bumblebees, fireflies, and a whole species of different bugs.

“M-maybe we should leave.” Eddie considered, swinging his head at the thought of him throwing you off your game if you had caught him here, not knowing if it was ok for him to even be here even if it was a public event.

He was about to stand up, try his very best to secretly leave without making any large movements or sounds, but El and Max, both reached out and placed a hand on top of his that rested on torn up velour upholstery, “Stay.”

Eddie gulped, seeing you finally take the stage, settling onto the stool and adjusting the mic stand to your height, “O-okay.”

You cleared your throat, beaming mildly at the three judges who sat in a row with clipboards and pens in their hands. The women who seemed like the less intimidating one, returned a smile after she had written your name on her piece of paper and reached for her mic sitting on the table.

“Thank you for participating, dear…why don’t you tell us a little about your song?”

Feeling less nervous than before, you tried to organize a mental outline of what you would say, despite realizing that your boyfriend was going to hear just a smidge of what the song actually meant.

“I wrote this song actually, just a few days ago…y’know breakups are hard and it’s even more difficult when we know that we lost someone who we couldn’t imagine life without. And, umm, I guess, we kinda all have that one person that we’re never really over, and they’re never really over us too, because there’s always going to be something between you guys.”

Eddie felt his heart spur, the murmurs of El and Max’s voices dying on his deaf ears as he proceeded to listen to you speak.

“Holy shit, she’s talking about you.” Max pinched Eddie’s side, but he never tore his eyes away from you, shaking his head in disbelief.

“No…no she isn’t, she’s not.”

El groaned, giving Max a roll of her eyes towards Eddie who didn’t seem to catch it, as he was too busy listening. You swallowed, pursing your lips and shaking your head to yourself, a habit that you did when you were having trouble trying to find the right words.

He knew you only needed a few seconds.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

“An—and you’re always thinking of them, no matter who you’re with…romantically or platonically. It’s like this pain and reminder that never goes away and no one can ever take away, because you—you just know that they’re the only one for you…and sometimes it’s better to be alone just thinking of them instead of being with someone else who you know will never be them…you’re kinda just holding out this hope that the one you’re thinking of will find their way back to you.”

You were rambling at this point and maybe even over sharing, but the judges seemed to like the vulnerability, nodding their heads as they looked down and wrote…good things, hopefully.

For the first time since you took the stage, did you meet eyes with Don, his friends murmuring to themselves behind him where he sat, hands intertwined together and resting in his lap. Not sure what he was thinking. Perhaps a mixture of confusion and discomfort…but you tried to warn him.

“…anyway, umm, yeah, this is my song, “thinking of you.”

Comparisons are easily made once you’ve had a taste of perfection.

Two knocks bellowed against the wooden door, your head turning to see who it was, “Busy?”

You nodded apologetically, but gestured him in, planting your guitar off to the side when he came close and pressed a kiss to your lips, “How’s writing going?”

“Still nothing. My brain must be racked or something.” You replied tiredly, drawing open your notebook and handing it over to him.

The pages filled with sentences, and words that had been crossed off and scribbled over. A case of writer’s block that wasn’t new but absolutely troubling when the song contest was only a week away.

“Maybe I can help?” He offered with a gracious grin, picking up a pen, tapping the butt of it against his chin, thinking.

“You can write about me and how great of a boyfriend I am?”

Maybe Don was joking, and you were taking it out of context, but he was far from the greatest boyfriend you’ve ever had.

You knew deep down who that title belonged to and how if he were here right now, he’d offer to take you on a crusade around town to get your mind off of writing.

Eddie knew you the way Don didn’t.

“Hey, c’mon don’t worry, it’ll come to you in no time…let’s just take a break and go for a ride. No music. Just the two of us talking with the windows down, yeah?”

Eddie was excellent at just knowing what you needed without every trying to pry or offer resolutions that would only leave you feeling more perplexed and frustrated.

How he could just tell what gears were turning in your head as he stole glances at you throughout the car ride. How you’d stare at the lump of grey clouds and stars in the sky, making himself to slow down so you could build a mental picture to look back on and write about by the time you got back home.

It was something so special that Don could never achieve. Not the level of perfection that Eddie ever was to you. No matter how generous or thoughtful Don thought he was being, it would never measure up to Eddie.

Like an apple hanging from a tree, I picked the ripest one. I still got the seed.

It wasn’t like you weren’t attracted to Don the first time you had saw him or even when you started dating. But it was never entirely about looks when it came to you.

Don attracted many women in Roane county and here in Hawkins when he started coming for you, but you were never affected by the adoring eyes that swept over him. Strangers coming up to tell you how lucky you were to have such a good-looking man all to yourself. That you had picked the most perfect boy and that they would die to have him like you did.

You never understood that logic because while yes, Don was a handsome man, it didn’t mean you were satisfied being with him. Instead, it only endorsed the conclusion that you had picked the most perfect boy in the eyes of the others, yet you ended everyday feeling empty and alone.

Nothing but a pit of loneliness.

And the pathetic part about recognizing this was knowing that no matter who you chose, whether it would be after Eddie or before him, that there was no one in this town, this state, and even in the entire universe that could fill that pit of uncomfortable solitude.

You said move on, where do I go?

You and Eddie weren’t perfect by any means. You’d both argue; shout a little too loudly at each other or just not talk at all. But that was life and it was normal for couples to go through minor bumps like this—if anything every fight made you and Eddie stronger.

But it was only a matter of time before strength became weakness.

“So that’s it?” You stood in front of him with your hands held out, practically gesturing for him to give you something.

Anything.

His face was buried in his palms, his back hunched where he sat at the foot of his bed with a million thoughts spiraling in his head.

“I-I don’t know…I don’t know, alright!” He exclaimed, mopping his dry hands across his face and turning his eyes back up at you.

Yours were bloodshot from the crying, and you looked a wreck. Tears staining the collar and sleeves of your shirt that you had used as a tissue and exhaustion in your limbs when you felt like sinking to your knees and bawling on the trailer floor until you had to be carried out.

“How can you not know? I—I don’t even know where this is all coming from…I thought that you said we were going to figure things out when the time came and—and now you just change your mind out of nowhere.”

Eddie wasn’t a stranger to your aspirations. Dream of which were bigger than this small town, passions that were far too massive to ever stay bound in this state. He knew that were dead-set on moving out of Hawkins as soon as you had that diploma in your hands and an acceptance letter from Cleveland.

You promised him that you two were going to figure out plans. If Eddie could stay with you a couple months out of the semester and you two could head back to Hawkins to stay with Wayne and Eddie when you had a breaks. You weren’t going to just leave Eddie behind in the dust. There was no way you could do that to him, and you never wanted your heart to go through that type of suffering.

Eddie stood up, prompting you to step back and give him space, “Figuring it out later isn’t realistic….we need to figure it out now!”

You furrowed your brows, stepping back into his space. “And who said that? Who made the rules, Eddie?”

“I did, alright! I did because I know that you’re going to hold yourself back if you stay with me any longer.” He shouted, brushing past you and leaving his room.

You followed right behind him, tugging at your scalp, trying to get through to him, “Who said anything about me holding myself back? The only person who can make that decision is me!”

Wayne rose up from his place on the couch where he was watching television on his only day off that week, just to be disturbed by the sudden invasion of his nephew and you, “Hey, hey, come on now…settle down, you two.”

He got between the both of you, looking at Eddie calmly telling him to cool down, “You tell her that! She doesn’t understand where I’m coming from!”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, tugging on Wayne’s arm so you could get a clear view of Eddie, “You’re right! I don’t understand because if you loved me, then this isn’t how you would get about the situation.”

Tears began rushing down your cheeks while the yelling and argument persisted through the turmoil. Wayne did not know the full story, yet trying his best to diffuse the situation, draping his arms around you in a hug, seeing as though you were hysterical, not hearing any of Eddie’s comments.

“Stay inside, Eddie!” Wayne hollered, leading the both of you out of the trailer door and onto the porch where you cried into his shoulder, his uncle rubbing your back comfortingly.

“I—I just don’t…don’t understand.” You told him through harsh sobs, throwing your head against his shoulder where you were sure his shirt was now soaked with tears.

Wayne didn’t speak for a few minutes, tuning in to your cries in one ear then Eddie’s frustrated shouts from the inside of the trailer.

“What…what am I s-supposed to do? Where do I go from h-here?”

You couldn’t move on. Not this easily and not this abruptly.

But you knew Eddie. He was headstrong. When he made up his mind about something, there was a tough time trying to change it. So you forced yourself to leave without ever going back inside and talking to Eddie one last time.

I guess second best is all I will know

Days were lonely without Eddie. Months were even more brutal knowing you couldn’t pick up the phone and call him to save your gloom. But the new record store that opened in town seemed to fix some issues you’d been having. Killing most of your time there browsing through vinyls and looking for new records to add to your collection that Eddie had started for you.

ABBA, Bon Jovi, and even a few Metallica records he picked up for your birthday a few months prior. All of them now sitting on a shelf with dust collecting on the outer sleeves, as you couldn’t find it in yourself to enjoy those records that you and he used to play together.

It hurt too much to listen to.

“Is this band any good?”

“Huh?” You peered up and across from you was the boy whom you picked to be your next boyfriend, Don, holding up the new KISS record that was released early that year…you hadn’t had the chance to listen to it yet, but you knew it must have been good if Eddie liked the band.

You smiled apologetically and nodded, reaching for the same record and reviewing the tracklist on the back of the cover, “Oh, yeah, KISS is great…my ex boy—an old friend of mine really likes that band.”

Catching yourself already bringing Eddie up, you cursed silently to yourself, placing the record back on the shelf and stepping away from the metal section of music that you had mindlessly found yourself in for the last twenty minutes.

Don was intrigued by you, leaving the KISS vinyl behind and following you into the next shelves into a different genre of music, “I wasn’t actually interested in KISS…I just needed an excuse to talk to you.”

Looking over your shoulder, there the man was, stiffly holding himself up against the racks with a sheepish smile on his face. He was far off from a metal head. He actually looked quite preppy, sporting khaki slacks with sneakers that definitely didn’t match his outfit, nor were dinged up from wearing them for so long, and an oversized sweatshirt with the bright geometric shapes stamped across the material.

You laughed, “Well, it’s nice to meet you…stranger?” holding out your hand for him to shake and so he did, keeping your hands together for a few more seconds before he finally let his hand fall back to his side.

“Don, you can call me Don.” He finally told you his name, urging you to do the same. Him making a corny joke about how it was such a coincidence that a pretty girl like you would have a pretty name to fit.

Such a typical flirt.

“So are you from Hawkins?” He asked you, eyeing the green and orange lanyard hanging around your neck where your keys and small collections of charms dangled.

You followed his eyes down your chest and nodded, drawing up the jumbled mess and rattling it. “Yeah, I’m going to be a senior next school year. Are you from here too? I’ve never seen you around school before.”

Maybe it was a fucked up thing to do, but you practically knew every person at Hawkins High because you and Eddie would make fun of all the stuck up and preppy students who stuck their noses up at you two. Surely Don looked to be a part of that crowd, yet you never saw his face in the halls or in the yearbook.

He shook his head, pointing out the window of the store where his car was parked with some of his friends lingering around chatting, “Me and my friends drove up from Roane. Wanted to check out the store since I saw the grand opening ad in the paper last week.”

“Oh, cool! Well, it was umm, nice to meet you, but I’ve actually got to head out so—“

You gestured your thumbs behind you where the exit door was, not really up for anymore conversation and actually needing to go run errands for the rest of the day, “Maybe you’d like to go out sometime?”

Gulping you stopped mid-sentence getting cut off by his sudden proposition and hesitated for a bit, “I actually just got out…of a really long-term relationship so maybe not—I don’t think right now is a good time.”

He looked disappointed, but still confident, “We don’t have to go out go out…we could just like, see each other casually? If you’re up for that.”

A hookup basically.

You groaned, pursing your lips and shaking your head no, “Nope, not interested…goodbye.”

Turning on your heel, you were striding out of there as hurriedly as possible, having a sense that he was still trailing behind you by the sounds of the footsteps, “Ok, I’m sorry! That came out weird…I swear I’m not a tool!”

You rolled your eyes, not answering him as you pushed the door open and walked to your car, parked a few stalls away from where he pointed at his. Fingers instantly clicking the unlock button on your key fob, almost nearing your vehicle when you felt a hand reach out and seize your shoulder, ordering you to turn around and push Don with full force, nearly knocking him over.

“Look, I don’t know who you think you are, but don’t put your fucking hands on me!” You shouted furiously, with your finger pointed at him sharply.

He held his hands up in defense, looking around to see if anyone had noticed the commotion, and thankfully bystanders were too immersed up in their own lives and conversations to notice the slight disturbance.

“I’m sorry! Sorry! I just—I didn’t mean to insinuate that we could hook up. God, that was stupid of me to say in there,” He shut his eyes rigidly, opening them back up to your still livid face, “Really, I’m really sorry…I’m an asshole and I should’ve just passed you my number then this could have been avoided.”

You furrowed your brows, shaking your own head, following his hands that went into his pocket and pulled out a yellow post-it note with blue ink scribbled down on it. He fiddled with it between his fingers before holding it out to you.

Sighing, you took it, unfolding the paper and reading the ten digits that were written, “It’s my number…if you’d ever like to give me a call, and maybe I could make it up to you or something—again, I’m sorry…for saying dumb shit in there and grabbing you.”

You looked up at him for a second, raising one of your brows highly as you examined his remorseful expression, before crumpling the paper in your palm, “Yeah…whatever, goodbye, Don.”

He slumped his shoulders, watching you get into your car and drive off without batting another glance at him. Leaving him behind in the parking lot to thinking about how he just possibly screwed up on the girl who caught his eye.

Eddie would never do such a thing like that to you even if he was interested.

If you had told him no, it meant for him to back off and let you be. He was always great at respecting your boundaries that you created and he knew it wasn’t anything personal, it just was something that you established because you wanted to get to know him first.

So Eddie didn’t go into guitar lessons with you with any gleam of hope that he would be yours and you would be his. When he offered to help you get better at songwriting and playing the guitar, he did it because he knew you were something special.

It was just that simple.

He never pushed the idea of a relationship towards you, nor did he ever make a move on you until you both were on the same page that a relationship was something that you wanted. And to be quite honest, the connection that you and Eddie shared was deep-rooted—you had spent time with him, each talking about your lives and your friends before even plunging into the relationship thing headfirst.

You liked it that way because it gave you a reason to really appreciate Eddie for not only a man that you were beginning to fall in love with, but just on that human level where vulnerability and empathy was laid out for the both of you to notice.

There was never a guy like that out there for you anymore, so for some reason you settled for Don. You called Don on that same day, later in the night, accepting that there was no man out there willing to show you his true colors like Eddie did. And definitely no man stronger enough than Eddie to hold the weight of your deepest fears and insecurities.

‘Cause when I’m with him, I am thinking of you

You tried to not look so uptight in the candlelit restaurant where classical music played softly in the background while waiters in suits walked around with large silver platters in their hands—but this wasn’t something you usually did on a Friday night.

“Do you like the food?”

Your fork twirling the pasta around the tongs, while you seemed rather distant worried Don. But only momentarily as you snapped out of the uncomfortable stare of your dish and looked up at him with a small grin, bending your head convincedly, “Y-yeah, sorry, just didn’t expect you to take me here.”

He frowned, setting his fork down and resting a hand against your wrist that laid flat against the white tablecloth, “Hey, you deserve the best. If I have to take you to a fancy restaurant every weekend to show you how much you’re worth it, then I will.”

You did your best to smile, nodding your head and mouthing a thank you before you two proceeded to eat the pricey food that didn’t nearly fill up like the burgers and fries at Benny’s did.

Eddie would have known not to bring you to a place like this for a date. He knew how much you hated all things formal.

For Valentines one year he tried to take you to Enzo’s after hearing how much all the girls loved getting taken out for a date there to spend the 14th of February. He caught on right away when you kept fidgeting in your seat, apologizing for brushing the fork and knife too roughly against the porcelain dishes making a high-pitched scratching noise that echoed throughout the restaurant, and how you, like the night you and Don went to that upscale restaurant, barely spoke a word to him.

“Are you sure you like your food?” Eddie confided, leaning closer towards you as you exhaled, giving him a sorrowful look and shaking your head.

Eddie’s expression fell, dropping his hands under the table to hold your hands where you had been fiddling with the stupid lace of the table runner. His thumbs smoothing across your knuckles, “You can have mine if you want, baby…or you can order something new. Whatever you want, sweets. Not gonna force you to eat something you don’t like.”

It was an encouraging and comforting smile he sent your way, never making you feel bad for not liking what you had ordered or worrying about what you two would be charged at the end of the night. He just wanted you to have a good time.

“It’s not the food, Eds.” You told him, squeezing his hands as you relaxed your eyes and skimmed around, assuming he was following, “I feel weird…like I don’t belong—don’t get me wrong, it’s beautiful in here, but I just, I feel like I’m fucking up this whole night—“

He shushed you lightly, shaking his head with a relatively affectionate expression laid out right in front of you, “Let’s get the rest to go then, we can even get a slice of cake or something, then we can eat the rest at Lover’s Lake.”

You laughed gently, a relaxed sigh leaving you, noticing his hands squeeze yours now, “I wish you would’ve told me sooner…don’t want to make you stay when you feel uncomfortable.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” You apologized, slanting forward the rest of the way to peck his lips kindly, “I just knew that this probably took a lot for you to plan out and everything and I just didn’t want to throw all that out because I’m in a mood.”

He pecked you again, an “uh uh,” crooned out on your lips before he drew away and smiled, “You’re not in a mood, baby. And don’t you dare feel bad—as long as we’re both together having a good time, I don’t care where we are, alright?”

“Alright.” You assured him, smiling as he let go of your hands and called the waiter to your table, asking for the check, take out boxes, and a slice of their famous berry cake with mascarpone and extra whipped cream on the side.

You shouldn’t have been thinking of your ex-boyfriend as you sat across from your current one, but in hindsight you’d had to accept the fact that Eddie would never leave your mind. He was always the top tier, exemplary, example of the expectations you were looking for in a relationship. His ability to read you like the back of his hand and express a profound semblance of understanding that could never be replicated.

You were always thinking of Eddie when you were with Don.

What you would do if you were the one who was spending the night?

Lover’s Lake wasn’t as nearly a popular hook up spot as Skull Rock was but there was no doubt that there were going to be couples having more than enough fun in the back of their cars on this valentines day night. But nevertheless, Eddie drove round and round and round until he found an empty spot, parking his van and helping you out of the passenger seat.

The two of you finished the rest of your dinner in the back of his van, giggling as the ducks in the lake quacked noisily, demanding more of Eddie’s garlic bread that he had been tearing and tossing into the water. Feeding them despite the sign that was posted that highly discouraged the act.

“But what if their duck family doesn’t have any food to eat!” Eddie questioned, still throwing what was left of the baked dough into the pond until he had no more left to give.

You giggled, at how ludicrous yet understandable Eddie’s argument was, his genuine care of nature and their creatures you found something so attractive.

“Should we stay here or do you want to head over to mine and you could spend the night?”

Eddie had never spent the night at your house. It wasn’t because your parents were strict or anything; it was just the fact that you both preferred the privacy of Eddie’s trailer knowing that Wayne wasn’t home to tell you two that it was too late to be up cooking a whole meal or bugging you both about being careful…but Eddie and you had both gotten that talk already.

He scooted closer to you, covering you up in his arms while he pushed kisses in random sequences across your shoulder and arms. “I’ve never spent the night at yours before.”

“Yeah,” You nodded knowingly, snaking your hands up to push his curly hair back behind his ear, giving you ample space to kiss his cheeks, “I figured you’d want to come over ‘cause my parents aren’t home, but we can go to yours too, but like, we don’t even have to do anything…sexual y’know, that’s not the reason why I want us to go to mine because—“

He scrunched his face, brushing nose against yours. An abrupt laugh coming from him, making you feel relieved that he wasn’t weirded out by your ramble, “Baby, you know I don’t expect you to spend the night or ask me to spend the night just for sex, right? I want to be with you because I enjoy being around you…I feel like I’ve told you this before.”

Eddie squeezed his arms tighter around you, pushing his face in the crook of your neck, causing you to snicker, “Mmmm Eddie! You’re gonna squish me!”

“Squish you with love and kisses,” He added, slacking his arms giving you enough room to pull him away from where he was hiding and press your forehead together. “What a way to die, huh? Make sure you put that on my death certificate.”

He closed his eyes, basking in the feeling of you so close to him, “Shut up, you’re not dying anytime soon, dummy—If anything I demand that I go first!”

You laughed harder, finally connecting your lips in a kiss. His hands covering your back, pulling you into him closer, wanting nothing more than to stay in this moment forever like this, even if it meant the stupid metal part from his trunk poking into his side.

But he knew eventually he’d have to pull away, longing to breathe you, memorize how the moon shone against your skin and take a mental picture to look back on every night before he went to bed with or without you laying next to him. Though he definitely preferred when you spent the night as opposed to going home and waiting until the next morning to feel you again.

He loved passing the late hours doing anything with you.

Watching reruns of sitcoms that were definitely more of a sleep aid than a laugh fest. Looking through your childhood photo albums and making fun of the missing teeth little you. Strumming the guitar while you read him lyrics. Hell, he wasn’t going to lie…sex with you was amazing, the best he ever had and the only one he wanted for the rest of his life. But his all-time favorite was just the purity of you laying your head on his chest while he watched you sleep.

The two of you finally began the drive back to your house, the soft engine roaring from the outside of the car. You watched pedestrians cross the streets every time you came to a red light, yearning to know if what they were going through in their lives. If somehow by chance, anyone of these innocent passersby felt the same way you were feeling and lived their lives the way you were.

Quietness wasn’t necessarily a bad thing on this drive home, and you were pleased that it was. It gave you time to reflect, think about something other than what was happening in your life, especially when you could never seem to do that.

And so when your house came into view, you were relived, craving nothing more than to get into bed and dream the night away, “Here we are.”

He announced with a merry tone, parking outside your home where the porch light was flickering yellow with a few moths swarming around its candescent, hoping to ward off any predators that maybe tracking them.

You unbuckled your belt, nodding your head towards the driver’s side with a look of sincerity, “Yeah…thanks for tonight, again.”

“Of course. I can’t wait to see you again.” He said, resting his forearms on the steering wheel, leaning forward with flushed cheeks when he turned your way.

“M-me too,” you agreed less assuringly, hand reaching over for the door handle so you could exit, but the hand coming down to squeeze your knee told you otherwise.

“Mind if I came in?”

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes, swallowing and finally finding it in yourself to shift back towards him. When you opened them, he was already staring at you, an intense and subdued gaze coating his eyes.

You shook your head, peering back at the living room window where light waded through the curtains and blinds, “My parents are home…so probably not.”

“Oh,” He said saddened, nodding his head understandingly, “Well, next time maybe?”

You only shrugged, bottom lip cover the top, as you weren’t sure if you ever wanted him to spend the night with you, “G’night, Don.”

Giving him no time to even ask or try to kiss you, you opened the door, flinging it shut and rushing to find the keys in your bag to unlock the door. Not even glancing back at him to wave him goodnight, just walking through into the four walls and slamming the heavy wooden door shut.

Spending that night, and every other night alone, wondering what could have been.

Oh, I wish that I was looking into your eyes.

Maybe it was your way of trying to not let the uneasiness and shame bleed into your soul while you were up on that stage, focusing on two things; singing and strumming the guitar.

But your eyes had avoided two spots in the crowd…the judges’ table and where Don was sitting.

You just couldn’t help yourself, nor avoid it, while your eyes sailed over to different people. It was obvious the Don was realizing what you were singing about, his face hidden in his hands while one of his buds took a seat beside him, lying a hand on his shoulder, buzzing something in his ear that you were too busy to make out.

The judges’ table actually was less daunting than you had expected. When you stole a glance at them during the pre-chorus, they had smiles on their faces, even one of them tapping their foot to the beat of the song.

At least you felt like something was going right.

And so now with a quarter of the student body sitting the crowd, you had many people to let your eyes drift over for what was left of the song, knowing that all of them were complete strangers you’d never see again after you graduated, so they didn’t really make you any more nervous that you already were.

But blindsided you were when you saw that familiar face in the left corner of the crowd, wholly staring at you. Actually, there in front of your eyes, hearing the song that you had written about him.

He was all face. His hair pulled back into a bun with a hat onto of his head. He wasn’t wearing anything from his wardrobe it looked like—and if you weren’t looking hard enough, you probably would never be able to tell it was him.

But you’d never mistake Eddie and those captivating eyes that were burnt images that you saw every time you closed yours.

Yet now it wasn’t imaginary.

Eddie swallowed, quietly clearing his dry throat when he knew he had been found by you. The way that your eyes remained on him a little too long and stared too passionately. How he could literally see your feet, pressing into the support legs of the stool, trying to keep your cool.

He was supposed to be subtle, keeping his hat low to conceal his face, but he couldn’t. Not when you were here singing to him and he knew it. You wanted to break the eye contact, to dart your eyes to the other side of the crowd where one of the students were nearly falling asleep, hoping maybe it would make you forget that Eddie was here.

Deep down, you were terrified that Eddie would’ve gotten up and left the second he got spotted, and you prayed on everything that he didn’t. All that you ever wished was to look into his eyes once again, and so you kept them there.

Not only singing about him, but singing to him.

He didn’t leave, and he never broke eyes with you, only you doing so every so often to look at the frets you were changing over before quickly finding him again.

Signing to him everything that you remembered about him that you could never bear to forget.

You’re like an Indian summer in the middle of winter...Like a hard candy with a surprise center.

When you had first met Eddie, you knew that he was a bit of a guarded individual, for good and personal reasons that you respected, of course. He always claimed that life was better, having no friends at all if it meant that no one he let into his life was making him feel like shit, and you understood that.

Eddie didn’t have friends…he had family, or at least one that he claimed as his own.

Hellfire, the little group that caused a lot of talks in the halls were essentially Eddie’s close circle of people. All the upperclassmen in his club were a part of his band, Corroded Coffin, one that you saw being advertised on flyers taped on road signs and restaurant windows. He also took the freshman in his club, as well as their friends under his wing, offering them a seat at his lunch table when it seemed like no one else would.

Eddie just had this extraordinarily welcoming quality to him, that only a few would know if they dared to step into his life. So many people perceived the wrong things about Eddie based on what he enjoyed and what he dressed like. These attitudes spoiling everyone’s opportunity to have an actual conversation with him to learn how pleasant and imaginative he actually was.

That the strange boy covered in patchwork tattoos, leather jackets, and ripped denim wasn’t all mean and scary like everyone had thought. Beneath that, he was like a teddy bear with actual capabilities of making you feel like being different wasn’t such a bad thing, because it wasn’t.

“Why’re you shaking?” Eddie inquired, contemplating your bouncing knee that braced on the chair in the drama room.

You stopped your leg’s movement, peering over at him where he sat on his throne, organizing the papers in his binder before his attention was captured on you, “Nothing…just a habit.” You waved off with what you attempted to be a convincing smile.

“Hey, c’mon.” He spoke gingerly, setting his binder down on the table in front of him, and leaning over to wrap his ringed fingers around the leg of your chair, dragging you closer to him, “What’s going on in that head of yours, babe?”

“I don’t know,” you replied, picking at the underside of your nails and flicking the debris off, only to feel Eddie reach for your arm and guiding you up and into his lap.

Your legs slung over his thighs, getting comfortable with your side dipping into the left side of his body. You could feel his breathing now fanning over your face when he nudged your chin to meet his, “You ought to know, sweets…just lay it on me, don’t be shy.”

Flinging your hands back into your lap defeatedly you groaned, “I just hope they like me, I mean they mean a lot to you, and just by the way you talk to me about them, I know that they really look up to you and everything like that and so I just hope I make a good impression.”

His alleviating palm traveling up and down your arm, along with his chuckle let you know that you more than ok, and you were just too much in your head about it, “Baby, they’re gonna love you…and if they don’t they can suck it.”

That’s all that you needed to know and hear that made you feel like everything was going to be ok. He always had that weirdly insane intuitive way about him—how even in your most uncertain moments, he was able to make you feel certain. He was always sincere and comforting, that homey feeling that could insulate your worrying your little heart and thoughts, attacking off the chill.

You poked his side, muttering into his neck where you found yourself slotted comfortably once again, “Where are they? Didn’t you said it starts at three?”

As if his friends had impeccable timing, before Eddie could glance down at his wristwatch, the door to the drama room bursted open with a group of people that you knew were Eddie’s friends. They were wearing thick jackets and boots to fight the winter cold and teeny flecks of white dredged on their shoulders and hair.

Pulling yourself away from where your face was buried, you and Eddie both sat up, your arms swathed around his neck and his arms caging your body still close to him.

“It’s snowing!” Dustin Henderson the curly-headed boy quipped, approaching you and Eddie with a palm full of snow in his hands.

You screeched, forgetting that this was your first time meeting them all, and absolutely fascinated by the ice crystals, moving out to touch it, “Oh my gosh!”

Another boy stepped forward, Lucas Sinclair, who was bundled up from head to toe, “Max and El are outside. That’s why we were late, they dragged up to help them make snowmen and angels.”

“There’s gotta be like twelve inches of snow out there! No one can drive or bike, so we all walked here.” Will Byers animatedly spoke, bringing his hands up and down to estimate the amount that had accumulated.

Another excited squeal left you, shaking Eddie’s upper half with eagerness. “We’ve got to go and see the snow Eds!”

He let out a bogus fuss, “We see snow all the time.”

Eddie was undoubtedly right, it snowed like hell during the winter, but most times all the white fluff either melted away before anyone could jump around and freeze their asses off having fun in it or it just became pure ice that was too hard to sculpt.

“But this snow snow! Like actual snow, c’mon, pleaseeee.” Your doe eyed pleading expression along with your hands clasped together with your bottom lip jutted out was just for theatrics. You both knew that Eddie wasn’t going to turn this down.

“Yeah Eddie,” Mike Wheeler snorted, making kissy faces towards the both of you, altering your attention to him where you giggled and Eddie flipped him off, patting your thigh, “Shut up Wheeler…everyone meet my girl.”

You stood up, smoothing your hands down the front of your pants, before sticking your hand out to meet theirs. “Nice to meet you all by the way…sorry for the PDA you walked into.”

Dustin dropped the snow at his feet, realizing for your hand first, the frosty cool skin brushing yours making you flinch a bit before laughing, “Eddie tells us great things about you…we almost thought you weren’t real until he showed us a photo of you two!”

As you continued meeting them, along with hearing why the upperclassmen weren’t present because they didn’t want to trudge through the snow on a Saturday—Eddie had swept the snow that the little shit Dustin dropped, not wanting to hear it from the drama teacher who graciously gave him the keys to the classroom for weekend campaigns even if it was prohibited.

Now he had somehow found himself sifting through the trunk of clothes used in past plays, searching for the thickets jackets to cover you up with, realizing that the sweater you had on now wouldn’t keep you from freezing to death.

He found one, a fuzzy army green zip up, many many sizes too big for you, but it would work, “Put this on, please.”

You paused your conversation with Will, peeking back over your shoulder to where Eddie was holding the jacket out for you. Your limbs extending themselves as he fitted the garment over your body and reached forward to zip it up for you.

“If any of you catch hypothermia, I’m not responsible.” He joked, grasping your hand as you all made your way out of the classroom and out the double glass doors of Hawkins High where you could see two figures in the distance, throwing snow up in the air and jumping.

The brisk air roused over your face, much crisper than hours ago when you and Eddie walked through the same parking lot, thought then, only a few inches of snow were already beginning to melt on the sidewalk. Now there were piles and piles of it. Eddie’s van sprinkled with the white flecks, probably going to be an inconvenience later on, but right now Eddie wasn’t focused on that.

“Eddie look!” The ginger yelled out as you all got closer, her finger pointing to the right where a snowman stood unbalanced, but still a snowman nevertheless.

Eddie snickered, nodding his head and squeezing your hand. “Red! Brunette! This is my girlfriend.”

With your freehand you shook theirs, beaming at their rosy flushed snouts and cheeks, plus their deep breaths that were fogging in the air.

“Nice to meet you!” You shook hands enthusiastically.

The dark-haired girl who Eddie had described to you as timid but clever smiled broadly, then looking up at your boyfriend, “She’s beautiful. How did you get her?”

You stifled your laugh, swaying your head, as Eddie, El, and Max bantered like brother and sisters for a bit, no malice in their words but only pure laughter as the three poked fun at each other.

“Here,” Eddie stated, sticking his hand into his pocket where he had crammed two beanies he found in the classroom. He held it out for the girls, asking them to put them on, “You’ll freeze your brains if you don’t cover up.”

You didn’t have much time to stare at admiration for his thoughtfulness, as he had bent down to pick up a wad of snow, chucking it delicately into your abdomen, making you whoop.

A snowball fight ensued. You, him, and his friends, racing around the parking lot like lunatics, trying not to get hit by the snowy spheres hurling your way. The campaign was now long forgotten by everyone, just basking in the Indiana sleet, and glee that sweltered through the frosty air.

Eddie stuck by your side, trucing his promise that he wouldn’t throw anymore snowballs at you, just wanting to stay close and near. To feel your breathing and to have your voice hit his ears in proximity like it was the sacred sounds of his favorite song. You were his favorite song, his favorite voice, his favorite type of laughter—his favorite everything. Even if meant being yanked through the cold or the midsummer heat, he’d happily follow wherever you strayed.

How do I get better once I’ve had the best?

Eventually, you all were convinced, by Eddie of course, to head over to Mike’s house to spend the rest of the afternoon drinking hot cocoa and warming up. The campaign would have to wait until tomorrow or at least until the snow stopped, and he’d come by the put back to borrowed garments and retrieve his van.

“Mike, are sure your parents won’t mind?” You proposed again for the millionth time during the walk over to his home.

You had just met the kid, and you didn’t want to seem like you were invading his space just because your were the girlfriend of his friend, but nevertheless he responded, politely, “I’m sure dude…Nancy’s friends are over too, maybe you know them.”

Steve. Robin. And her boyfriend Jonathan.

You knew about them because Eddie was also friends with them, plus you had shared a few classes with Nancy and Robin but had yet to have an actual conversation with them. The other two, Steve and Jonathan, you hadn’t met yet, only hearing stories from Eddie about them from time to time.

When the young boy unlocked the door, hailing out to his parents that his friends were staying over for a while, he led you to his basement, everyone already knowing that’s where they were going. And the noises of the rickety wooden stairs leading you down, notified the older teens who were sitting on the couch watching an old VHS.

“Oh, geez, come on here, take this blanket.” His older sister, the one that you knew got up immediately, flinging the blanket off of herself and enveloping it over your body that was attached to Eddie’s side.

“Guys, this is my girlfriend—“

The boy sitting beside Robin with gelled hair spoke, “The one you won’t shut up about?”

“Who else you dingus!” Robin and who you assumed was Jonathan smacked his arm, a repentant look on their face when they turned to you, “Sorry about him, he was dropped many times as a baby.”

She was more than delighted to greet you, rising and sweeping past Eddie to give you a hug, one that you weren’t expecting, but gratefully returned.

“Come sit. Jonathan and I will get some more blankets upstairs.” Nancy suggested, caressing your shoulder as she pulled her boyfriend off the couch and jogged back up the stairs.

The kids had settled on the floor, instantly ejecting the VHS tape despite Steve’s protests and plugging in their gaming console where they all fought for a turn. Eventually, Steve had properly introduced himself to you, apologizing for his joke at the beginning, which you never really took with animosity, just assuring him that it was all jokes and fun.

When Nancy and Jonathan returned with a handful of blankets and warm cups of cocoa in their hands, you were already getting to know more about Eddie’s friends. Robin reminding her friend about the class that you three all shared together back in sophomore year before any of you knew who you were. Jonathan and Steve, pulling Eddie into their own conversation, something about his next performance at the Hideout and if he would be able to get them free drinks throughout the night.

Soon enough, it was just you and the girls, plus the kids who were still busy with the game left in the basement. Eddie and the two other guys headed out with shovels and mittens in hand, hoping to get Eddie’s van out of the school parking lot before any staff would get suspicious of the lonely vehicle parked there or worse, towed.

You beamed when Nancy, refreshed your cup with the rich liquid, toasting up your hands when Eddie wasn’t here to warm them up himself, “Eddie really loves you, you know…he literally doesn’t shut up about you.” she smirked cheekily, observing the way your eyes twinkled at the mention of his name.

“I’m just as head over heels in love with him as he is with me…he’s the best.”

The two girls met eyes with each other, smiling giddily at hearing that admission. They knew that Eddie was truly content with you, like a sudden wave just washed up over him once the two of you started dating. He became softer, not in a whipped way, which he totally was for you anyway, but he was just different. A more peaceful and together version of himself.

He talked highly of you before he introduced you to them. Telling them all about this mystery girl, who was in fact real, and enjoyed the time you had spent together. Talking about the many songs you had written, so enthralled by your ability to paint a picture with just a few words and how the guitar was just an accessory to what you were singing.

They were happy for their friend, even more so happy for you for meeting someone you knew was the best person who you deserved.

But that was before you had lost the best you’d ever know.

You said, there’s tons of fish in the water, so the waters I will test.

Robin’s hand reached for your shoulder, shaking it mildly. “Are you ok?” she asked with troubled eyes at your quietness.

You snapped out of the memory, blinking slowly as you found yourself standing in front of a rack of clothes in The Gap store, while Nancy and Robin conversated among themselves before noting your absent state. Now the both of them standing on either of your sides, watching you slowly come back with a heavy sigh brewing in your chest.

“Y-yeah…sorry, just thinking.” You waved off, shaking your head, and raking back over the hangers, not at all interested in the clothes that were displayed there.

Nancy looked over at Robin, her eyes quietly indicating worry while you were too busy trying to act like you were fine. Her delicate hand coming to stop your movement, pulling your eyes to hers again. “You know you can talk to us right? Even though we’re Eddie’s friends, we’re also your friends…we care about you.”

It had been months since you and Eddie had officially broken up. You had already begun seeing Don, and you had fully expected that Eddie’s friends would stop speaking to you even casually if they had found out. After all, they were all Eddie’s friends before they were yours. Despite how close you got to them throughout you and Eddie’s relationship, their loyalty laid first with Eddie—you understood and respected that.

However, they had other plans, continuing to call and check up on you after hearing the news from Eddie himself. Robin and Nancy were specifically supportive, always taking you up on the opportunity to go out to get your mind off of things and to keep up with what was going on in your life now that you didn’t spend every weekend in the Wheeler basement just hanging around.

It was harder on the younger kids. Max and Dustin liked to joke and say, “We’re children of divorce,” knowing that their favorite couple had split suddenly in the middle of the year. They did their best to hang out with you too, tagging along with Robin and Nance when they’d say they were heading over to your place or over to Benny’s meeting you for lunch.

Clearing your throat, you ground your lips together and peeped at Nance and Robin, “H-how is he? Eddie, I mean.. Has he been taking care of himself?”

They each took a deep breath, side eyeing one another, then nodding at you. This was the first time in a long time that you had asked about Eddie. He was a sensitive topic that no one brought up if you were in listening distance, knowing it could trigger you. You didn’t want to seem bitter, to act as if you didn’t care about Eddie anymore, because quite honestly that wasn’t possible for you to ever feel.

You loved Eddie with your whole existence, but you just couldn’t face the fact that you were living life without knowing it wasn’t beside him anymore. And you definitely didn’t want to hear if he had another woman already taking your place…even if that made you a hypocrite.

“He’s umm, he’s good actually…on track to graduate, thank god.” Nancy told you freely, giving you a thumbs up that you accepted with a nod.

Eddie wasn’t dumb, far from it. He just didn’t have a lot of discipline when it came to school. You had helped him through that, encouraging him to find more time to study and take notes so that he could take tests and pass with flying colors.

It worked.

Somehow he learned to enjoy sitting with you in the library, a comforting silence between you two as you read your textbooks and he would look over notes from class. You’d do anything if it meant helping Eddie get out of this hellhole of a school where he was trapped in for far too long.

Robin spoke next, bouncing on the heels of her foot up and down, while she bit her lip, “He heard that you’re going out with Don now. He’s happy for you.”

You knew Eddie was bound to find out sooner or late. It wasn’t hard to spot the preppy car and pretty boy to match it, coming into Hawkins more and more the longer you two started seeing each other.

“Oh…” your heart shook, forehead wrinkled up as you learned about Eddie’s new knowledge about your life and how he still wished you well.

Nance tilted her head to the side, seeking to detect what you were feeling—a mix between confusion and discontent, she supposed.

“But—but you know, he also said that he umm, that he wants you to search the whole pond.” She inadequately tried to explain, nudging Robin for help.

You looked up at them plainly perplexed at what the older girl was trying to explain. Thankfully, Robin stepped forward, “Yeah the pond! You know…there’s so many guys out there, and he wants you to really search it and find someone you deserve!”

Deep down, you didn’t even want to dip your toes in that stupid pond they and Eddie were talking about.

To you it wasn’t about searching because it was useless to do so. There couldn’t possibly be anyone out there that could have been more perfect for you than Eddie. You didn’t care about money, status, or looks…any of that materialistic and superficial bullshit that everyone wanted for notoriety.

You wanted Eddie, but you settled…you barely even searched that pond before testing out the second best you found.

He kissed my lips, I taste your mouth

Nancy and Robin tugged you out of The Gap store, the three of you visiting a few more shops that were on the second floor before taking the escalator back down to visiting the food court. With summer approaching, the shopping center was packed with students getting a head start on basking in on the freedom and fun that came with the semester coming to a close. So it wasn’t surprising to find Max and El sitting at a table all by themselves, talking amongst one another.

“Heeey chicas!” Robin singsonged, knocking her fist on the metal table, grabbing the young girl’s attention causing them to smile and stand up.

Immediately they went to hug you three, urging you to take the empty seats beside them, “We missed you!” They both directed it to you specifically, resting their chins on their fists.

You nodded, rolling your eyes as you caught up with them, “School and life are just a lot right now—I’m telling you, don’t take freshman year for granted because upperclass will kick your ass.”

They laughed, while the older two girls agreed with you, noting how much grades and extracurricular meant to your record, which would ultimately decide if you were going to get into college or not

“Where’s Lucas and Mike?” Nancy sought, looking around and not seeing them anywhere in sight.

El giggled, shrugging her shoulder, while Max smirked, crossing her arms over her chest as she looked up the figure behind you, ignoring the question.

“A strawberry snow-cone for the prettiest girl in Hawkins?”

Hands were now covering your eyes, feeling the cold rings resting on the bridge of your nose and the high points of your cheeks. The laughter surrounded you and the voice who spoke made it obvious who it was, “Eddie, you dork!”

“Awww you caught me sweets!” He bubbled, withdrawing his hands from your eyes and you immediately tilted your head back, seeing an upside-down version of him.

He was wearing the same t-shirt that you saw him in before you left his trailer that morning. And now he traded his basketball shorts for the classic black denim that he said matched everything in his closet.

The smell of yesterday’s blunt still lingering on him from where you cuddled into his side, and kept him company while he smoked and you freely wrote in your journal, outside on the porch chair.

You felt his hand guide your neck back up slowly. The chair beside you being dragged out where he sat and placed down the sweet treat in front of you, “I thought you had a campaign today?”

You stuck the spoon into the red painted snow, taking a bite as you watched him watch you eat, “Yeah, but these dweebs wouldn’t stop bugging me about the mall.”

He ruffled the hair on Max and El’s heads, causing them to scowl, hitting his hand away jokingly as they fixed it back into place.

“Well, shit Mr. Charming, you got her a snow-cone but not us?” Robin tsked playfully, rolling her eyes along with the other girls for dramatics.

You giggled at their antics, watching Eddie cackled and reach into his pocket, tossing them a $10, producing a round of ovations to erupt from the four girls who gave up on their act.

Robin instantly palmed it, mouthing a thank you to Eddie who pretended to roll his eyes, shooing them away to give you two privacy.

“C’mere.” He grinned, repeating your favorite simple action of him pulling your chair closer to his, knees just about hitting each other now and shoulders pressed together.

You blushed, hiding your cheek in his shoulder, pushing the bowl and spoon towards him to take a bite, which he happily did.

“When did you find me here?” You proposed, eyelashes flutter up at him, watching him chew the icy snow and swallow before responding to you.

He intertwined your hands together and then spoke, “I was gonna get a corn dog, but then I noticed the girls talk to some people and I saw you and I wanted to surprise ya!”

You melted, aweing up at his sweet gesture, kissing the skin below his jaw, “Well, consider me surprised.” You told him, wringing his hands appreciatively.

“Can I get a proper kiss?” He radiated, eyes clouded over with longing, knowing it had been hours since he last got to kiss you.

Your eyes drifted up, bluffing to think for a few moments, a silly game you liked to play with him to keep him on his toes, though he always knew it was just a facade too, “I suppose you do deserve a kiss.”

Eddie crinkled his nose, a content, “yes!” spewing from him as if you’d ever decline him a smooch.

“Lay it on me, pretty.” He puckered his lips, making you giggled, wanting to pinch him and tell him to kiss you right, but any kiss from Eddie was good enough from you.

Your lips planting against his slightly chapped ones that you had tried to coat in your chapstick, yet he hated the feel of the product, unless it was transferred from yours to his. You could still smell the blunt he had been smoking before you left—a hint of earthy. Yet notes of sweetness, the artificial kind from the strawberry syrup that coated the shaved ice and his mouth. But every kiss was swarming with Eddie—just him. The way you wanted every kiss to feel and taste like.

But this kiss wasn’t Eddie.

“Oookaay, wow, hello!”

You pushed at the chest in front of you, breaking your lips apart embarrassingly quick and seeing Nancy and Robin holding the snow cone you had asked them to order for you while you took a breather and sat down alone at the table.

But that was before Don had taken it upon himself to surprise you, greeting you with a too loud of a hello and laying an unexpected kiss on your mouth before you had gotten the chance to say hi.

You stood up, pushing your chair out, “I’m sorry! Guys umm…this is Don. Don, these are my friends Robin and Nancy.”

Stiffly you gestured between them, your two friends, passing him a half smile that didn’t look at all convincing to anyone, but Don was too caught up to think otherwise.

“Cool…here’s your, uh, strawberry cone.” Nancy handed over your small bowl, keeping her eye on you and never towards Don.

“Thanks.” You muttered, before you all took a seat, waiting to see who was going to speak first.

It was Don. It was obviously going to be him.

They tried, they really really tried to like him for the sake of you. But it was blatantly obvious how different Don was from you and how he made you feel. You were reserved when you were with him. You barely put a word into the conversation, instead you kept your eyes on your snow cone, not wanting to feel the eyes of your friends silently asking you what you saw in him.

The comparisons they were making between Don and Eddie were coursing through their heads, and you could feel that. You knew that you weren’t the only one who would do such a thing. It might have been wrong to hold that expectation over Don’s head, but it wasn’t something that you were ready to compromise with.

You weren’t sure if you were ever going to be able to live seeing and feeling everything that Don wasn’t when you were with him because you’d only ever want Eddie.

He pulled me in, I was disgusted with myself

Uncomfortably, the conversation between your new boyfriend and your friends went on for a while—mostly from Don’s side. Him telling the girls about his life in Roane county, asking if any of them wanted to meet his friends in hopes of snagging themselves a boyfriend like you had…as if Nancy and Robin didn’t already have someone special in their lives.

It was obvious that you were entirely done for the day, not having much more social battery left in you to shop in anymore stores or talk about life. You just really wanted a break from life if you were being honest with yourself.

“You guys wouldn’t mind if I headed home early, right?” You asked them gently, pushing aside your now finished treat and looking across the table at them.

Nancy and Robin both shook their heads, smiling tightly at you, “No, yeah, that’s fine…are you ok?”

You genuinely smiled when Robin and Nance both placed a hand onto yours at the same time, obviously concerned, “Yeah, I just feel a little tired and I actually need to work on the song contest thing.”

“Don, do you think you could give me a ride home?” You peered over at him and he nodded, smirking and already standing up.

You shimmied your hands from under your friends, now placing yours onto of theirs and giving them a consoling squeeze, “Have fun you two, I’ll see you later.”

With that, you stood up, grabbing the two shopping bags you had and looping them over your wrists. They waved goodbye to you, watching as you and Don walked side by side towards the exit of the mall, not a single reach of your hand trying to find his, but only his arm draping over your shoulders by the time you had walked through the double glass doors.

A small crowd of people sitting on the concrete benches next to the bike rack caught your eye. And for obvious reason, because you knew it was the kids. Their bicycles were never hard to miss with the plethora of stickers that were stuck onto the metal tubes and they’re even more bright colored clothes that they sported.

You felt like you were in a movie; the scene happening in slow motion while they followed you pass by with a guy that was not Eddie hanging over your shoulder. The man you were thinking about sat between Dustin and Will, the cigarette that was hanging from his fingertips, dropping to the floor where his foot immediately stomped it out.

Eddie went pale, despite the slight tan he had developed from being dragged outside by his friends these days. The curses and whispers coming from the young teens echoing in his ear, as he monitored your figure. Watching the way you twisted your head to try to avoid him, something he was going to do as well, to pretend he didn’t see you, possibly make up a lie and say that it wasn’t you.

Maybe your doppelgänger.

But he could never mistake the way your hair fell over your back, and how you took each step from heel to toe like some sort of model…a joke he like to make because it made you blush every time he brought it up.

And most importantly, he knew your face from every angle. Having woken up beside you every morning and falling asleep next to you every night. To having you staring him deeply in the eyes right in front of him, and you throwing your head back to look at him with a dopey smile upside down.

He knew it was you no matter what illusions his brain was trying to make up, his eyes did not deceive him.

They sure as hell didn’t deceive the way that Don pulled you into him closer, saying something funny that made himself laugh before you, then kissing your lips.

God, you felt sick.

It was horrible enough that this was the way that you and Eddie had to finally see each other after doing so well at dodging one another at school. But this was a whole other feeling of disgust. Revulsion at yourself for being in this situation and having the guts to walk around with a man you knew didn’t deserve you. How could you be so naïve to think that the feeling would go away? Like you’d wake up one morning and forget everything that you and Eddie had…now that truly made you sick.

And yes, I do regret how I could let myself let you go

Subtleness was never your forte. If anything, you prided yourself on being easy to ready, especially by Eddie. So it was no surprise when you were singing on the stage that you had gradually been breaking down with each verse. Your eyes welling with salty tears that traveled across your cheeks every time you wrung them shut, looking back on memories of you and Eddie that brought you here.

Part of Eddie wondered what would have happened if you would’ve just stayed at the trailer a little longer that afternoon. Or if he called you and asked to speak about what had happened. Or just maybe if he would’ve gone about the situation differently. To tell you, he was terrified at the fact that you were so sure of hightailing it out of Hawkins after graduation.

That he didn’t know if he was bold enough to follow you. If he’d drag you down or hold you back from your big dreams. That maybe Hawkins was really all he had to give his life to, afraid of what else the world had to offer. If outside of this town that he was already accustomed to scrutinizing him, would be the only one he could ever get used to.

That maybe, just maybe, if you could at least be happy without him with only your dreams in sight, that he would be able to live the rest of his life soundly, in this town forever, knowing at least you made it out and did something for yourself.

At the end of the day, it was selfish—a selfish decision that led to so much heartache and longing for one another. Never being able to keep your sights off of one another, just hoping that either one of you would burst through the door and take all the pain away. No more mistakes or being apart. That’s all you both ever dreamed of at the end of the day.

Now, now the lesson’s learned, I touched it, I was burned.

You could have accepted everything for what it was, all that surface level shit that went down between you and Eddie. And you had tried your very best to forget him. To clear your slate, and start from scratch when it came time for Don to enter your life, but that just wasn’t practical nor realistic.

You had spent every waking moment thinking about Eddie, comparing Don to Eddie, dreaming about Eddie, crying about Eddie, damn near dying over the fact that you didn’t have Eddie anymore.

You tried, and it hurt. It hurt too much to ever think that Eddie was just some random boy you fell in love with one day and could forget in a snap of your fingers. Eddie was this burning everlasting light that would never be blown out, not by you, not by Don, and not by any other man.

Oh, I think you should know…

By now, you could tell you were a mess. You could sense the tears crashing on thighs where they fell from your eyes, rolled down your cheeks, and dripped off your jaw and chin. The crowd watching was now more awake than ever, sitting forward to legitimately listen in on what you were saying and how passionately you were singing the words. Thinking that it was just because it was a really meaningful song for you, but they didn’t quite understand that the meaning was sitting in the room with you.

When I’m with him, I am thinking of you

Finally, you looked at Don. He was impassive, hands covering his mouth as he glared at you, but only before your eyes went back to Eddie’s.

The words dripping off your tongue, when he knew that you were really trying to talk to him in this moment. To make him understand all the things you had been feeling for him and never stopped feeling for him since the day you broke up.

You’d been a constant thought in his head throughout those grueling months, yet he was too scared to ever talk to you, let alone write you a song, but here you were, doing it.

Cause in your eyes, I’d like to stay.

The strumming of your guitar deliberately died with your last whisper like word. Eyes never threatening to shut, even with the cloudiness of tears that obscured the sight of Eddie standing up and being the first person to clap his hands together, followed by the rest of the crowd who did the same. Don and his friends were the only ones still seated in the crowd, but you didn’t care, not anymore.

Wiping your hands across your cheeks, you stood, lowering your head in gratefulness by the kind gesture of these stranger and most notably the person who the song was about. The judges also clapped, but tried to be unbiased, not standing up and instead, letting the same woman who greeted you speak.

“Thank you dear…that was beautiful, really. Thank you.”

You nodded your head at the judges as everyone began to settle and sit back in their chairs, while you walked off the stage and back up the ramp where you unwrapped your guitar from across your body, placing it on your chair. Don’s hand didn’t waste anytime, snatching at your wrist, and hauling you outside of the auditorium where all shit was going to hit the fan.

Your back was against the rugged wall, watching Don pace back and forth in front of you. His hands pulling at one another, huffing obscenities under his breath that you knew were directed towards you. He eventually ceased, keeping his distance from you on the other side of the wall, looking into your eyes.

“I don’t understand…wha—what does Eddie have that I don’t?”

You felt almost sorry for him, the fact that he was questioning his worth rather than just understanding that it had nothing to do with him and entirely everything to do with the person you wanted.

“Everything.” You swallowed thickly, sniffling softly and tearing your eyes away from his serious gaze, know you shouldn’t even be looking at him after the cruel words you had sung his way.

He tried to approach you, his arms held out, like he wanted to give you a hug or something, but you stepped aside, moving against the wall, adjacent towards the auditorium doors, “Stop it, Don…you already know what this means.”

You and him were over.

There was no way that Don could still possibly want to be with you after you had just publicly broken his heart and confessed your undying love for your ex-boyfriend that he didn’t even know was in the crowd watching.

“But I just—I thought you said you liked me!” He lost it, roaring it out vulgarly, forcing you flinch with every word that emerged.

Liked.

Not loved.

Not the way you love still loved Eddie.

Your arms bound around yourself, demanding the guarantee to feel like you were going to be ok, when he turned and punched the bulletin board on the wall in front of you, “I don’t get it!”

“I—I never stopped loving Eddie, Don! I’m sorry, but I can’t help the way I feel…the things I feel for Eddie, the only person who made me feel that way—Ow! Stop it! Let me go!”

The next performance hadn’t even started yet.

The auditorium was dead silent, faces turned towards the door where they could hear the screaming match happening between you and Don, though nobody knew that except his friends, Eddie, El, and Max. The judges weren’t even quite sure if there should be another performance after the one you had put on—no one showed as much emotion and vulnerability when it came to their original song like you did.

Nevertheless, they sat, a little guilty eavesdropping, as the man’s shouts were more clearly discernible than your muffled replies. Not before you were screaming in pain, that is.

On instinct, Eddie had shot out of his chair the moment he hard you say “ow!” Not caring if he was stepping on other people’s toes and feet when he stumbled his way through the cramped rows, and rushing up the slender ramp to thrust the door open. Looking right and left… to only seeing Don holding your arms against the brick wall. Based on the way his muscle bulged while he had his hands on you, let him know that Don was being more than rough with you.

“Get your fucking hands off of her!” His feet took him directly beside the two of you, shoving at Don’s arm, forcing him to release the forceful grip he had on your wrists.

You found yourself behind Eddie, fingers twisting the material of his flannel, wanting nothing bad to happen to him, “I see,” Don snorted numbly, clenching hos jaw, “Of course he’s fucking here to save you…did you guys plan this or something?”

“Leave.” Eddie spoke seriously, pointing out the door when he knew that getting into a fight with this boy wasn’t something he was looking for at all. It was making sure that you were ok and not hurt.

Don just grunted, trying to look past Eddie’s figure to see you, but he didn’t allow it, not even a shred of you to be seen or touched by him ever again. Using his arms to create a barrier between you and the guy, you felt safe knowing that Eddie wasn’t going to let anything happen to you.

The poor guy just huffed out an even heavier breath than before when his friends finally walked through the doors with him. Never looking back at you and Eddie.

Once you two were in the clear, he turned around, bending to your level to see your face clearly, “H-hey, are you ok?”

He was hesitant to put his hands on you.

To hold your cheeks in his hands like he did many times in the past when you were feeling too sad. Or even just giving you a hug. He didn’t know if he was allowed to do any of those things anymore, not if he didn’t know if you wanted him to.

So when your arms instantly reached out to wrap around his body and your face buried in his chest, he knew that everything was going to be ok. His arms tucked around your body, securely holding you close, feeling your tears seep through the fabric of his shirt and press into the bare skin underneath. Your breaths warming the skin where you breathed into him. His heart thumping against your ear, the only heartbeat you were longing to feel for so long this close again.

You two weren’t just thinking of each other anymore.

“I missed you…s-so much.” Your voice broke finally splitting away from his chest and looking into his eyes.

He smiled, a sad yet hopeful smile, nodding his head, “I missed you too…I’m sorry for everything.”

You closed your eyes, letting the tears run again, relishing in the feeling when he finally moved his hand away from your back to brush the drops aside with his thumbs. A peaceful smile on your face despite the contrast of your crying…fortunate that you were here with Eddie even if it meant crying pathetically like this.

“Can—can we talk about what h-happened?”

You hoped he would say yes, to finally work things out and maybe rekindle everything that you two still had.

He hummed, “Yes,” with a sniffle, thumbs still working the waterworks falling until you opened your eyes.

Looking straight into him with distractions around anymore.

His orbs were like freshly melted chocolate with pebbles from Lover’s Lake surrounding the iris.

His cheeks flushed the same berry red as the snow day you shared together a few Decembers ago.

His warmth that radiated off onto your body like the summer he was to your winter.

His gentleness with you never faltering like you never had spent time apart at all.

The pit in your stomach slowly dying from where you had thought you were to be stuck with the second best who could never amount to the perfection that Eddie was.

And when his lips finally came down to yours, the disgust you’d been punishing yourself with leaving the moment you tasted your favorite after smoke of a blunt, combination of phoney strawberry—and Eddie.

The lost time you had spent away thinking about one another now replaced with the reality that you no longer had to solely daydream or spend the hours reminiscing about each other and your love. It was now about making it right, standing here and not taking a damn second for granted ever again.

You both pulled away, lips swollen and cheeks just as flushed, still staring with no words spoken, not before the auditorium doors freed with El and Max standing there with a smile, “You won!”

Now you just needed to win someone.

A/N: all credits to katy perry for writing this beautifully heartbreaking song. I shed a few tears writing this...maybe this was a bit of a projection thing, but I was able to write this in two days without stopping. craaaazy right. anyways, please let me know what you guys think...i hope the flashbacks weren't too confusing, but if it is just inbox me and i'll be more than happy to explain!!

taglist (if you would like to be added just leave a comment!): @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world

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alpaca-clouds · 1 month

Text

How Capitalism turned AI into something bad

AI "Art" sucks. AI "writing" sucks. Chat GPT sucks. All those fancy versions of "fancy predictive text" and "fancy predictive image generation" actually do suck a lot. Because they are bad at what they do - and they take jobs away from people, who would actually be good at them.

But at the same time I am also thinking about what kind of fucking dystopia we live in, that this had to turn out that way.

You know... I am an autistic guy, who has studied computer science for quite a while now. I have read a lot of papers and essays in my day about the development of AI and deep learning and what not. And I can tell you: There is stuff that AI is really good and helpful for.

Currently I am working a lot with the evaluation of satellite imagery and I can tell you: AI is making my job a ton easier. Sure, I could do that stuff manually, but it would be very boring and mind numbing. So, yeah, preprocessing the images with AI so that I just gotta look over the results the AI put out and confirm them? Much easier. Even though at times it means that my workday looks like this: I get to work, start the process on 50GB worth of satellite data, and then go look at tumblr for the rest of the day or do university stuff.

But the thing is that... You know. Creative stuff is actually not boring, manial stuff where folks are happy to have the work taken off their hands. Creative work is among those jobs that a lot of people find fulfilling. But from the feeling of fulfillment you cannot eat. But now AI is being used to push down the money folks in creative jobs can make.

I think movie and TV writing is a great example. When AI puts out a script, that script is barely sensible. Yet, the folks who actually make something useful out of it get paid less than they would, if they did it on their own.

Sure, in the US the WGA made it clear that they would not work with studios doing something like that - but the US is not the whole world. And in other countries it will definitely happen.

And that... kinda sucks.

And of course even outside of creative fields... There is definitely jobs that are going to get replaced by automation and artificial intelligence.

The irony is that once upon a time folks like Keynes were like: "OMG, we will get there one day and it is going to be great, because a machine is going to do your work, and you are gonna get paid for it." But the reality obviously is that: "A machine is going to do the work and the CEO is going to get an even bigger bonus, while you sleep on the streets, where police will then violate you for being homeless."

You know, looking at this from the point of view of Solarpunk: I absolutely think that there is a place in a Solarpunk future for AI. Even for some creative AI. But all under the assumption that first we are going to erradicate fucking capitalism. Because this does not work together with capitalism. We need to get rid of capitalism first. And no, I do not know how to start.

#artificial intelligence #fuck ai art #fuck ai writing #fuck chatgpt #fuck midjourney #fuck capitalism #anti capitalism #solarpunk #lunarpunk #capitalism sucks #late stage capitalism

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herotome · 5 months

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hello :) i'm planning on making my own short visual novel and it got me thinking about the development stage of games i like! if it's okay, i wanted to ask how long has the herotome idea and its characters been floating around in your head, and what was the process of starting to turn it into reality? with my own projects i find i usually have a strong concept/feel/imagery that feels hard to pin down/expand upon and actually make practical haha. thank you!

Oh boy!! I love questions like this, but at the same time... my condolences lol, it's gonna be quite the hike

I first had the idea for Herotome back in... 2017. I guess 6 years ago now - and I've been working on it pretty much nonstop (aside from a... 1-2 year break back in 2018 or so).

I have tried to work with a lot of different team members who flaked, ghosted, fell through, or had some other manner of false start that ended up contributing very little to the game (but still cost me money ;;;)

I still had to keep going despite that.

I'd decided early on that I would be the "heart" of the game, and as long as I was still beating away, it didn't matter if other parts fell through. I would keep going.

I learned to write renpy code by myself, started doing all the writing by myself, did all the concept art...

Renpy code was the trickiest one - while it's not difficult to learn, it does take time to get familiar with if you've never coded before. I got code practice in with a game jam in 2019, wherein I made a short game and got to experiment more with variables and if/else conditions.

Ideas are very, very easy to have; my recommendation would be to start looking at your actual, practical skillsets - for example, if you enjoy writing, then start writing and keep at it! "Keeping at it" is perhaps the most challenging part, but I promise you it DOES start to take shape.

Alternatively, if you feel like you don't have any applicable skillsets (as most people do): start learning something. I had pretty much zero background in code, but I still did it myself because I had no one else to do it for me.

All this being said - you also need to have the determination to take breaks and not work yourself into burnout; because if you burnout real bad then the idea and the project dies. Might be resurrected if you're able to perk back up, but it's way, way better not to burnout in the first place.

Keep going in moderation. But keep going.

#herotome ask #I can go more into other aspects like... taking inspiration from outside media and researching story beats and such but I'll stop here for #now #I find that most people starting out will have problems with motivation #I certainly did!!!! I had many failed projects before Herotome #this was just the first idea I REALLY decided to absolutely commit to #I decided I would love and cherish and marry Herotome itself #and thats kept me going a great deal

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thecameronchronicles · 2 years

Text

Breaking and Entering

TW: Extreme smut and degrading language. Gunplay. Language. Violence.

Be prepared to sweat ;)

SUMMARY: Overhearing the Pogues discuss how there is gold at Tannyhill, you believe this is a godsend to your problems. But when you try to take a piece, you find the house isn't as empty as you thought and its resident is looking for a specific sort of arrangement....

WORD COUNT: 3500

Breaking and Entering

You had spent the last two days in observation of Tannyhill in preparation for tonight. Kissed by the shadows of your chosen cover aided by the shield of well trimmed shrubs, you pulled yourself beyond the antebellum architecture and before the set of French doors before pausing. The words overheard between JJ Maybank and Kiara Carrera having reminded you why you were about to commit a felony.

"400 million in gold..." Of course you wouldn't try for it all as it would be reckless, greedy, and impossible. But the thought of just a handful of those bronzed bars would erase your financial tribulations.

No more double shifts at the wreck just to still fall short every month. No more cocked brows from Kooks or whispers of your soiled reputation from parents who had you too young and expected too much. All you had to do was findfinf the gold and leave before anyone came back home. It should have been rather simple as you knew for certain that the entire Cameron clan had been present at a fundraiser for the evening as you had even watched them leave half an hour prior. But as you stood at the door, contemplating if it would be worth it, the sight of such gaudy imagery before you in the form of marble statues and priceless paintings made visible by the lights from generators The Cut still couldn't afford, you pulled the bobby pin from your hair and bent it to commit to your crime.

Following a few tries, you heard a satisfying click that left a cushion of arrogance to your self inflating ego in pride, having only ever done this to your diary when you'd lost the key. But now, it gave you access to what could be the cessation to all of your problems. Your dead end job. Your shitty home life. Your lack of a childhood ruined by negligence and gaslighting. All of it was at the edge of dissipation, prompting you forward through the plantation.

Without the need of a flashlight as a few corridor lights were left in illumination for when they'd come home, you crept through the estate room-by-room, unsure exactly what it was you were in search of. You wondered if the gold had been in duffle bags like in the movies had done with cash in cliche hand offs or maybe even in crates in preparation to be shipped. Either way, you were well aware it would be stored in something quite obvious and so you continued to search.

It would take the better part of an hour to walk the extent of the rooms, finding each one more lavish than the last. Decorations making you scoff as you traced your fingers on the flawless statuettes or the golden frames, disgusted at how 'the other half' spent their money. As you could imagine just one piece of art being enough to supply electricity to the Cut, the sound of a gun cocking behind you brought your feet rooted to the floor.

"Something I can help you with?" You recognized the tone at your back as having belonged to the eldest Cameron, Rafe. You knew it well as it frequented The Wreck along with fellow kooks for the Carrera's homestyle favorites, but he made it his sole mission to taunt anything below a six figure income. And yet, a portion of him always mystified you for the darkness held behind such stunning eyes-that did nothing to make up for his misogynistic and cruel personality.

"Both hands..." He demanded as you obliged, well aware Rafe Cameron may just be psychotic enough to pull the trigger for you simply being in the way. The thought made you acquiesce against your usual natural desire for a rebuttal as you obeyed with momentary hesitance.

"Turn around-slowly!" He corrected, dominance dripping behind his honeyed tone cracked with a vague southern drawl behind specific words of his low cadence.

But once you did, his brows lifted into amusement.

"Another dirty Pogue trying to take something that doesn't belong to them? What is it? Huh?" He began moving towards you, gun kept towards you as if it was nothing more than a weightless boost to his ego.

"My sister's clothes? My father's watches? The keys to The My Druthers?" He teased, listing the things you 'pogues' only dreamed of owning. But in the time his taunting had been uttered, your eyes found a secondary exit that sent you barreling towards the route before feeling him apprehend you. He was expectedly rough, one hand remaining on the butt of his glock as the other took you by your waist until you were pinned just beside the door.

"So, tell me...what was it you were here for? Maybe we can work something out-" He teased, eyes falling down the dip of your tee shirt cropped by a pair of scissors to amend this summer's specific heat. His gaze continued to the jean skirt wrapped by a roped belt and the curves of your hips left exposed to what you believed would only be the nighttime air.

But when he took the gun to further reveal you to him, you pulled every ounce of spit you could in such a short collection of time, before sending it in his direction. His second hand now came to your jaw, forcing you to collide harshly to the panel at your back as he lifted the gun to your jaw.

Once your eyes found him beyond attempts to evade, you noticed a sense of hesitancy or maybe even regret in those damned blue irises. You decided to play this to your strengths as you were certain he wouldn't let you leave anyhow.

"Are you gonna do it, Rafe?" His jaw clenched as his grip loosened on your chin when addressing him. "You gonna pull that trigger?"

"You don't think I will?" He spat behind his teeth tensing that much tighter.

"Go ahead then-" He was taken aback by your request, almost taking a literal step in retraction to your words.

"We both know you won't let me just leave...not that I have anything to go back TO so do it...You'd be doing me a favor-" You called his bluff as his expression fixated on you as if suddenly became the most interesting specimen ever presented to him. Because of this, his tongue separated his lips in a pensive pause before he slowly nodded.

"I don't want to hurt you-" You didn't care to hide your bewilderment as he bowed over you, gun falling between your thighs.

"But I do want to make you scream..." The cold metal of the weapon brought your skin to react in an immediate chill, born out of both fear and exhilaration-the latter rejected by any fragment of your common sense.

"Go to hell-" You charged at him, being forced back against the wall, knee moving higher to keep you in place.

"Unless...there was another reason I shouldn't call the police...I'm sure they'd love having a smart assed pogue to entertain them tonight..." You sharpened your glare at him as the thoughts of the consequences of your actions. The bruises you just had fade following the last time you faced your father's disappointment. The tears nearly drowning you to sleep and the immediate envy that came from people like Rafe never knowing these kinds of troubles. At least you assumed so…

"Just let me go-" You grunted, your pleas seemingly ignored, if not endorsing his amusement as his grin widened against you. The snicker setting his otherwise aesthetically pleasing features into a twist only kept your attention for a second as your eyes scanned for an alternative exit. But between the gun, his threats, and his grip, you were at his mercy.

"Ah ah! Don't even think about it-" He warned once, noticing the shift behind your eyes.

"I think we can have a bit of fun-" His head came to a cock as he continued to trace your exposed skin with the nuzzle of the weapon, returning you to stiffen at the danger waged against you.

"Since you don't want to talk..." He led the weapon against your lips, drawing them to part with the gun's edge before widening his grin.

"Suck." His command forced your eyes to widen. When your lips remained tight, he forced them apart with his thumb, slipping the gun between your reserved part.

"Suck." He ordered again, forcing it throughout your mouth more than basking in your acceptance of it, before now leading it between your legs. The tip fondling your folds to which you allowed between curiosity and fear, made you repress a shudder as you didn't want to offer him the satisfaction.

"Shit...You're a dirty little slut aren't you-"

"I'm not a slut!"

"Only sluts get wet from guns..." He explained, showcasing your slick on the edge of the weapon.

"This turns you on? Yeah?" He set it back between your lower lips, finding it to glide easily between your thighs by your hesitant consent as his eyes bloomed in awe.

"Nobody fucking you right on The Cut?" You turned your face away from him, hoping it would be enough to hide the blush from your cheeks. In truth, it has been far too long since you were appreciated as a woman, finding your only release to be rather anticlimactic at the end of your own tiring fingertips. You convinced yourself this was why you allowed this, but if you were honest, a part of you was always curious to be with Rafe in this way. If not for his muscles you couldn't help but notice flex quite naturally, then maybe in the way he was confident with fearlessness. It was annoying but enough to allow him more than what he deserved.

"Slutty little pogue thinks she can come in here and steal and there won't be consequences?" He tsked his tongue.

"Stupid girl." His hand was now harshly in your hair, the gun pushing your panties to the side, teasing your opening. The ridge from the gun made you clench immediately as it was used to tease you, your eyes closing in anticipation as he forced your head further back by his grip.

"Did you come here for this?" He taunted, fingers finding your panties, pulling them aside, and producing a series of tentative circles to your aching clit. You wanted to push him away, to yell, to hit him-but your body betrayed these attempts. His fingertips were eager in a way you had never felt from another man, but also gentle, an adjective that seemed wrong when describing him, and yet, true.

"I could make you cum so hard that they'll hear you back at the cut..." His fingers suddenly withdrew, replaced by the weapon once again.

"But you're being less than accommodating..." You were left irritated and breathless from a touch you didn't want to believe you needed. And yet, you dripped for it-for him...the sociopath holding a gun to you! And yet it was a detail that only seemed to excite you at the thought.

"Unbuckle me." Your eyes fell to the belt I question as you refused, grip tightening and gun pressed harder into you, making you wince to its threat to penetrate you.

"I want those dirty little hands around my cock, convincing me you're better suited here than in jail for the night...go on pogue...convince me..." He spoke with a chuckle as you only glared, objectivism sending you into a further rebellion.

"Or I could make sure your life becomes real hard-" His promised grievance set your fingers directly into his pants, bypassing the pleasantries of a slow burn. Instead, you optioned for the shock factor, but it would backfire as you were almost eager to feel him. Too eager.

He was impressive in his makeup, making you throb at how he would feel inside of you, the guilt for wanting him for even a second deepening as you began to stroke him.

The way his eyes rolled into a close set your pulse unsteadily erratic as you continued to pump him into pleasure. Twisting and squeezing, it was just the distraction needed to suddenly gain the upper hand. Much to his dismay, this trained wrist brought him to an edge only you could offer before you stunned him by using it to take hold of the weapon. His eyes blew wide, expressing those lust-lorn irises as if he was deserving of this, whether you were to pull the trigger or not. It was this very look that you realized he hid behind his arrogance as he was truly a fractured soul. A twin flame to your own emotional decay.

Understanding things would never be the same either way, you found the way he watched you, a mix between awe and anticipation, that you decided to ride the wave of your want. Pointing the edge of the gun at his chest, the rage of his heart in an unusual pattern, both aroused and alarmed, you now made demands of your own.

"Get on your knees, Rafe Cameron." The devilish smirk widened across his face as your fingers teased your thigh, hinting at what you wanted.

Prior to now, you held no knowledge of Rafe's sexual past as you rarely saw him with any girl aside from his sister, and that was usually for appearances or tension. But you were too curious, too deprived, and too exhilarated to ignore this need, borderline obsessive, throbbing against your sense of reason.

"Such a pretty mouth...know how to use it?" You taunted, tone cold, but eyes on fire for what you craved. He obliged, lowering to his knees before escorting one of your own at rest over his shoulder. Silently, he pulled your panties to the side to expose your soaked core, reservation in protest proving futile to your natural instinct.

"Mmm..." You hummed at the skill of his tongue, greedy yet thorough to you. He was just as much a giver as a receiver, eyes excitable at the thought of either, as his gaze remained to you, your body relaxed at the surge of pleasure gifted by him. Your mind berated you but became silenced by your hips rocking into him. Rather quickly however, he pulled his arm across your waist to keep you flat, carrying his thumbs into a set comfort to divide your folds to him. The flicks produced by his tongue left you manic, lips parted in pant, chest rising in uneven patterns, eyes rolling only to shoot open in the times he teased your clit with a cruel bite or sudden suck.

But just as you had done to him, he only acquiesced to gain the upper hand. Yet, he didn't regain control of the gun to use it against you. Instead, he threw it out of view and turned you against the wall. In seconds, your skirt was around your ankles and the chime of his buckle informed you of his own undressing.

"Nobody can hear you...but I want to-" He took hold of his rigidity, a sudden pressure splitting feeling as if it would tear you apart. You grinned at the idea of him existing so arrogant because of this, a 'this' whose extent bottomed out within you and forced a wince.

"Yeah, you like that, pogue? Huh?" He took hold of your hair, using this grip to force you to look at him.

"You're gonna take all of me like a good little slut...Every. Fucking. Inch." He delivered harder thrusts with each word, making you cling onto the frame of the door in desperation.

"If you cum, I'm gonna force you on your knees and finish in that smartass mouth of yours-Got it?" When you whimpered, he pulled you even further against him. "Answer me, bitch-" Your lips parted.

"Okay!"

"Good girl-" He nearly purred into your ear, your eyes rolling into a close.

"Rafe...Rafe please!" Your pleas were only fuel to his arrogance as he chuckled behind you.

"That's right. Beg me. Fucking slut...MY slut." This possession left you to groan, something about it driving you deeper into your descent into carnality.

"You wanna cum? You know I could make you...yeah?"

"Yes Rafe! Please! It feels so fucking good-"

"Does it?" He teased, sucking in a sharp breath as you moved against him, purposely clenching around him to try and torment him as he did to you. But when he only pushed you harder into the wall in deeper thrusts, your fingers dove to your throbbing clit as his hand moved into his possession in a quick grasp.

"You are such a greedy little thing aren't you? You know...patience is a virtue, baby....But you just can't wait...can you?"

"No! Please!" Tears began a crusade down your cheeks, desperation making you nearly limp.

"You don't deserve to feel me. I'm gonna finish in your mouth. Do a good job, maybe I'll let you cum..." Just the idea of a release sent you to obey as your hair was granted reprieve from his harsh grip before he pushed you down in guidance to your shoulders.

"You try anything and you'll be sorry, yeah?" You didn't agree or disagree, just simply took him within your mouth. Nearly pornographic moans left behind his breathing, your throat never really growing accustomed to him as he trusted within you. Fingers exchanging between your hair and your neck, you continued to pump him from the reaction of his body. When he quickened, you slowed and vice versa, all to bring him to that precipice in withdrawal.

"Get up!" He ordered, leading you against him, half bent in his arms as one hand dove between your legs and the other kept you to him with a hand around your throat.

"I'm gonna make you so sore. For lying to me. For denying me- for being so fucking needy and impatient-"

His fingers to your clit were merciless, painful in the best way, as you allowed him to abuse your desperate cunt. Removing his touch from this stimulation to penetrate you once again, he returned his fingers to your clit, quick whisps of ovals made against you.

"Gonna beg for me you little pogue slut? Gonna let me cum inside this tight little pussy to make it up to me?"

You could only nod, his hand around your throat tightening from your silence.

"You feel so fucking tight...been needing this, huh?" He teased as you bobbed again, this time, feeling his hand lower from your throat and onto your breast.

"Fuck..." He clenched a painful grip onto your chest, in what would leave bruising, as he wrestled his lips to your ear.

"You should thank me for being so nice...You don't deserve this. You're greedy. You're needy. You're not even worth a conversation. But you are gonna take it. All of it-all of me-"

"Yes!" You belted out your first orgasm tearing through his penetration and allowing him even easier access within you. The reservation of a tense pussy now eased by this orgasm, coursed the overstimulation of your clit. Your hand quickly wrapped around his wrist.

"It's It's much!"

"I don't care." He confessed. "I'm not done-" He continued, never faltering in his fingers or his dirty words as they only continued to fuel you as well.

"Earn this cum, baby...clench around me-" You obeyed, between needing another release or granting him his so he would stop.

"That's it...my good little whore with this tight little pussy gonna make me cum...right?"

"Yes, Rafe!"

"Yeah, yeah-like that...take it bitch..." He grunted.

"More!" He was brought to the edge from your words as your fingers wrapped around to his ass.

"Ugh!" He breathed behind you, his hand extending to the table lining the nearby wall to steady himself.

"Im gonna you're making me- fuck fuck fuck! Shit!" He expelled his load, bringing your release along with him. His sudden neglect to hold you sent you into the table as you held yourself up with shaking legs, feeling synonymous to jelly.

"Rafe..." You breathed in confusion as he now held the gun under your chin, second hand in a grip in your hair.

"Please...I'll go...I won't say anything," He only scoffed at your teary eyed plea.

"I don't think so..." He grinned. "I think I'll keep you for a bit..." His words exhilarated you, despite the ache still present between your thighs.

"Come on-" He pulled you into the direction of the steps.

"Where...where are we going?" He hesitated for a second, handing you your panties.

"You said it yourself, you have nothing here...So you're gonna keep me entertained in Barbados-"

"Barbados?!"

"Going for business, but you're coming for my pleasure..."

And you were.

Willingly.

Excitedly.

Eagerly.

His...

Taglist: @hopebaker

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