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munsonthings86 · 2 months

Text

we've been celestial even before this

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: after she has a particularly rough day, steve takes his girl stargazing

warnings: cursing, fluff, soft!steve, established relationship (but still fairly new), oversimplified summary, reader depicted to be nineteen, these two being the biggest lovesick idiots for each other

an: i've been having a lot of fun writing about these two. they own my entire heart. hope you guys enjoy this one * don't copy my work *

wc: 6.1k

steve and sunshine's timeline

The trembling flame of the Coffee House scented candle illuminated your messy bedroom in a flickering, warm, honey light. The smell of the candle resembled nothing of coffee, more like hot cocoa or caramel you thought, but it did its job of calming your rattled nerves, nonetheless. Most of your wooden floor was hidden beneath neglected pieces of clothing that you'd pulled from your closet in a hopeless attempt to string together a decent outfit that morning. I'll tidy up tomorrow, you shrugged, though knowing you, there was a high possibility that "tomorrow" would turn into next week.

Procrastination was a terrible habit of yours, and the tension that the day left you with was doing very little to diminish it. Your early morning shift at Family Video was borderline torturous; Keith saw to that when he scheduled you sans Steve and Robin and had two inept new hires shadow you. Sure they were nice and all, from what you can recall anyway, but you were too out of it to bestow on them the patience you typically had.

Once the stint came to its much desired end, a dreadful date at the Indiana Bureau of Motor Vehicles awaited you. In your venture to become more of an independent and responsible "adult" (being merely nineteen, the word made your blood run cold), the goal of obtaining your permit was set in stone. The written test was passed with flying colors, but like any classic BMV nightmare, you'd forgotten a required document to actually get the damn permit.

Nearly plunging to your knees, you begged the grumpy old woman behind the counter to let you run back to your apartment that was “just down the street”. Truthfully, it was a thirty minute trip on foot, but she didn't need to know that. If you ran, you could make it back in twenty.

But, again, like any classic BMV nightmare, all she left you with was a hardly sympathetic, "Sorry ma'am, but if you don't have all the required documents, I'm afraid you'll have to come back tomorrow. The office closes in fifteen minutes." Through clenched teeth, you thanked her for her time, though she neglected to return the gesture, squawking "Next in line!" in a tone that was poles apart from her customer service voice.

Mercifully, your day wasn't all terrible. On the way back home, you stopped by the library to return a week's long overdue book and, instead of crucifying you for it, the lovely librarian recommended a novel she thought you'd appreciate. Rose in Splendor by Laura Parker. Unbeknownst to her, you'd been dying to read it ever since it was published last year. The grouch over at the BMV could definitely take a page out of her book. No pun intended.

Curled into bed and tucked under your beloved ivory crotched blanket, you thumbed along the pages through gravelly, blurry eyes. You kept promising yourself "one more page", but that was well over ten pages ago.

The male love interest was recounted having perfectly tousled brown hair with a body to die for, and you couldn't help but to think of your Steve. You missed him terribly in that moment and the one thing that kept your woe at bay was the anticipation of you two's nightly phone call. It was the selling point of all your days spent without him, truth be told.

The chime of the landline in the hallway between your kitchen and bedroom pierced through the otherwise silence of your apartment, prompting you to glance at the clock on your wall. 9:32 p.m.

Speak of the devil.

Folding a little doggy ear onto the page to preserve your place, the blanket keeping your legs warm was tossed among your strewn out clothes as you nearly slipped, scurrying to answer the phone. You couldn't bite back your smile as you pressed the receiving end against your ear, hearing the music that was Steve's voice, fill your mind.

"Hi, sunshine."

A breath that was unknowingly caged, freed itself at the sound. "You're nearly on time," you teased, referring to earlier today when Steve promised to call you at 9:30 sharp tonight. Usually, he called you earlier than this, but he was jammed with babysitting duties for the six kids you were considering adopting for yourself at this point.

"I know, I'm sorry," he chuckled. "They finally fixed that game at the arcade that's been down for the past few weeks. Gaga, I think it's called."

"Galaga," you corrected, giggling to yourself. It wasn't a rare occurrence whenever the kids would drag you along on one of their many hangouts, so you were rather well-versed in their nerdy recreations. "Yeah, that's the one. I could barely pry their grubby little hands off the thing. Especially Dustin."

Based on his tone, the roll of Steve's eyes as he spoke was nearly audible. As much as he complained about constantly having to be the one to look after the party, there was a part of him that covertly loved the fact that they depended on him so much. Not only was it somewhat of an ego boost, but he's always dreamed of having little nuggets of his own to protect and guide and treasure.

The daydream of Steve being the ideal father, unlike his own dad ever was, reeled your bottom lip between your teeth as the cord of the landline fell into the trap of your twirling fingers. It was so vivid; a shirtless Steve wearing blue jeans that hugged his bottom so perfectly, driving a rackety lawn mower along the wild grass of the front yard to the house you may or may not have pictured the pair of you living in.

In that utopia, the children that you may or may not have pictured parenting with Steve, sat behind the lemonade stand that was built by their father, giggling and toying with a leaky hose as they awaited customers. You'd be watching your little family from the boxy window of the kitchen, fixing them an afternoon snack, unable to contain your laugh when the hose goes haywire, soaking your lover from head to toe.

The imagery made you giggle out loud, head falling against the wall as your stomach cramped. "What?" Steve asked, laughing along with you though it's purely out of instinct, because of course he didn't know what you were laughing about. But hearing your audible delight was contagious. He couldn't help it.

"It's nothing," you assured, smiling softly before continuing, "just hoping your day was better than mine was."

"Well I don't like the sound of that," he frowned, sneakers squeaking against his floor as he shifted his weight onto his other leg. He watched as the days worth of dirt that'd found solace on his shoes, abandon patterned scuffs on the wood. Memories of the pointed sound of his mothers voice demanding no shoes in the house rang through his head like a siren at the sight. He would've ditched his footwear at the door, but he knew he was running late for his phone date.

"What happened?"

Commencing your response with a weary sigh, you shrugged, laughing dryly, "A lot. It's not even funny how exhausted I am right now."

Steve's chest tightened. He hated when you had a bad day; it left a bad taste in his mouth. Even worse, whenever Steve would make an effort to get to the bottom of what ailed his girl, he had a less than impressive success rate, seeing as vulnerability was one of your shortcomings. Steve knew better than to pry. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to do his damnedest to make these final hours of the day your best.

"I'm sorry to hear that, honey," he lowered his head, offering a comforting smile that though you couldn't see, you could hear in his voice. "'S alright," he heard you murmur.

It fell silent for a beat before Steve inquired, "When are you comin' home?", to which you furrowed your eyebrows, letting out a confused chuckle. "Uh, I am home."

Jokingly, the boy scanned his apartment and though he saw some of your forgotten belongings from previous visits, he couldn't seem to pinpoint you. "That's weird, I don't see ya. You hiding somewhere?"

The laugh that erupts from your core at your sappy boyfriend is inescapable. Your shoulders quake as you snicker and Steve's never heard a sound so sweet. Mission accomplished. For now, anyway. "You're an idiot."

"For you, yeah," he retorts, "thought we already established that." The apples of your cheeks are growing sore as Steve's honeyed words denies your smile the chance to falter. Any inconvenience that was precedent to this very moment was long forgotten by virtue of the prince charming that was your boyfriend.

"I'll come see you soon, lover boy," you quipped.

"You makin' fun of me?" He was completely unoffended. Prior to the few weeks of you dating, Steve spent the better part of the past decade containing his cascading love for you behind the dire dam of the friendzone. Despite delay, the dam was broken and there was no playing "Mr. Cool Guy". Steve was crazy about you. And he'd be even crazier to not show it.

"I wouldn't be me if I didn't," you teased. "I'm gonna head to bed, though. I have another shift in the mornin'. That damn Keith," you rolled your eyes, groaning as Steve laughed through his nose.

"Alright, sunshine, I'll see you later, okay?"

"Okay," you glowed. "G'night, Stevie." You waited for him to respond with a "goodnight" of his own before returning the phone back to its base, already pining for your boyfriend's presence again. Though you poked fun at it, what Steve said about you not being "home" wasn't just him being sappy. You were feeling the same way.

No matter where you were, whether it was school, work, the arcade, shit, you could be in the Upside Down, but as long as Steve was there, you felt at home. It made you reflect on the times where you'd be lying in bed, unable to slip into a slumber as you couldn't shake the feeling of wanting to go home, though geographically, that's exactly where you were. It was because you missed Steve. And any place where he was absent, was no home of yours.

Sauntering back into your bedroom and kicking away garments to clear a path, you cocooned your body into the blanket that was now stained with the scent of your burning candle, and continued from where you left off in your book. You figured you'd make some decent progress to hopefully avoid another late fee at the library.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

It'd been forty minutes later, give or take, when you stood on sore legs, cleansing and moisturizing your face before calling it a night. Your dull eyes wore dark and heavy circles like a hideous skirt, a clear manifestation of the fatigue you were weathering. You rubbed at them unkindly with the hopes of looking even a little more lively, but to no avail.

The bulb of the bathroom went out like a flame once you flicked the switch off, and you abandoned the journey back to your room at the sound of a series of knocks to the front door. Clasping the opening of your robe with shaky hands, you wondered who could be here at this hour. You weren't expecting any visitors. Approaching the door with hushed footsteps, a miniscule view of none other than Steve Harrington could be seen through the peephole of your door.

The tension in your shoulders dissipated, ribs doing their best to cage your fluttering heart. You squealed, fingers fumbling with the lock and you could swear the metal thing had something against you, the way it stalled to unlatch. Steve smiled from the other side of the door as he watched the knob twist and jangle, warmed to know that you were just as eager to see him as he was to see you.

The brown lettering that labeled the white entryway '2F' swung out of view and Steve made eye contact with you for a split second before stumbling back a bit when you threw yourself into him.

Elevating yourself with the tips of your toes to reach him, you trapped his neck between your arms as he returned your hug with one arm, the other remaining properly tucked behind his back. "Hello to you too," he laughed breathlessly before briefly stamping a kiss to your shoulder.

"What're you doing here?" you buzzed, pressing little pecks to as much of his dotted skin as you could. You were suddenly a ball of energy. Finally at home. "When you said later, I thought you meant, like, tomorrow or something."

"Well, I missed you," a kiss to the corner of your mouth, "Wanted to come see ya."

The smile he wore carved thin lines into his cheeks as he spoke, walking your tangled bodies back into the quietude of your apartment. He stopped at your cutesy welcome mat, kicking his shoes off before revealing his arm that held a bouquet of just about the prettiest flowers you'd ever seen.

"Steve," you pouted, releasing your hold on his shoulders, "they're gorgeous." Cradling the peach hued roses dressed in a newspaper-style wrapping paper, your eyebrows scrunched together as you reminded yourself of the time. "What florist is open at 10 p.m.?"

The boy chuckled, locking the door behind him. The plaid pajama pants he wore swung loosely on his legs as he approached you. "There isn't," he ran fingers through his disheveled hair that was long overdue for a trim, "I saw them while I was out with the kids and I thought of you, so I got 'em." He shrugged like it was nothing.

"I was gonna surprise you with them at work tomorrow, but I figured I'd just give 'em to you now, ya' know, all things considered."

Heat rushed to your chest and face as you ogled him, filled with an overwhelming sense of luck to be his. Your feelings toward him felt so immense that at times, you could barely articulate yourself. Words of love and adoration raced through your mind a million miles a second yet you always found yourself terribly speechless.

Steve was so open with his affection for you. It’s a love people pray to experience at least once in their lifetime. And what a heaven-sent gift it was to earn that kind of love from Steve.

These would look perfect by the living room, you thought, turning to the kitchen to retrieve a vase after slipping him a fleeting kiss.

Scouring the white cabinets, you almost failed to remember that you didn't particularly own a vase, given the fact that you'd never actually received flowers before. The realization dejected you a bit.

Steve trailed behind you mindlessly, a frown weighing on his lips as he watched your shoulders droop. Leaning against the space on the counter next to you, he slid down a little, leveling with you, "What's wrong, honey?"

A mumbled, "I've never gotten flowers before," left a pang in his chest, your eyes never leaving the shelves of your cluttered cupboard. "Never needed a vase before."

It was now Steve's turn to slump his shoulders while he gazed at you with sad eyes. How could someone so lovely, so divine as you, not be treated the way you deserved? He would buy you flowers every day if you wanted and he had to bite his tongue when he almost cursed himself for not doing it already. But it's okay. He was here now.

Luring your waist into his body with those burly hands of his, he spoke with assurance laced in his voice, "Well, that's okay," he cooed. "Here, use one of these for now," he pulled a mug that you would've otherwise had trouble reaching, as it sat on the very top shelf, "and tomorrow we'll pick out a nice pretty vase for ya'."

Filling the black cup with water, he planted the roses down as neatly as he could. The flowers sat in the mug awkwardly, all splayed out with the stems way too long for your liking. But somehow, it still managed to be nothing short of perfect. "Cute, a little weird," you shrugged, a smile teasing your mouth, "but cute."

Steve chuckled lowly, situating himself between your legs once you sat on the surface of the tile countertop. "That's funny."

"What is?"

"I said the same about you when I first met you," he laughed, unable to contain his smile before getting the joke out. The face you made didn't help. "Shut up, Harrington," you jab at his shoulder softly, cracking a smile of your own.

Though there was a newfound romance, the typical banter that was mutually exchanged wasn't going anywhere. You were glad that nothing changed between you when you started dating.

Toying with the drawstrings on Steve's Gap hoodie, you began zoning out, the thought of going to bed while cuddled up with your boyfriend, sounding all too alluring. Looking up at him, he was already intently staring at you with painfully adoring eyes and you couldn't help but melt under his heated gaze. "Hi," you muttered, shyness clouding you.

"Hi, sunshine," he smiled, adjusting the collar of your robe with careful fingers. "I'm sorry your day sucked."

"It doesn't, anymore," you replied, sincerely. Steve's eyes lit up at that. It wasn't a secret to anyone that his presence alone seemed to be the antidote for some of your worst days. You'd even admitted it yourself, once or twice. But it never failed to ignite the nerves in Steve's body with fervor.

Although you were completely honest that your mood had gone up about ten octaves since he'd been there, Steve didn't want to just be there. He wanted to do more. It was what you deserved.

"You up for a little adventure?"

"Depends," you squinted. "What kinda adventure are we talking about?" He shifted his weight onto his other leg as his eyes veered off to the ceiling, thinking.

Steve happened to have a few tricks up his sleeve.

"There's somewhere I wanna take you," he drummed a rhythmless beat on your thigh with his fingers. The sneaky expression on Steve's face told you everything you needed to know. He was up to no good. As much as you wanted to go on a late night escapade with your boyfriend, you had to be somewhat, even a little, responsible.

"Steve, it's late and we both have work in the morning," you huffed, losing your grip on the strings you'd been distracting yourself with.

Steve playfully rolled his eyes, flinging his body out of your clutches dramatically. He was going to get you to cave. Whether you already knew it or not. "Alright, grandma, I promise to have you back home at a reasonable hour. Deal?"

The internal battle on whether you should stay or go was evident in your features, though, realistically you had already come to the conclusion that you'd humor him. The "grandma" bit is what really did it for you.

"This is a dumb idea."

"I'll be waiting by the car," he smiled an accomplished smile before leaving the kitchen. Letting out another sharp exhale, you hauled your body off the counter and headed towards your bedroom, discerning that a robe probably wasn't the dress code for wherever it was Steve was taking you.

Concealing your underlying tank top with a hoodie almost similar to Steve's, you threw on some sneakers before snuffing out the diminishing candle. Giving your appearance a once-over in the mirror, you wondered what you'd just gotten yourself into. Though any time with Steve was time well spent, you couldn't help but to look at your bed longingly as you shut off the lights to your apartment, meeting Steve outside.

He stood by the passenger side of the car, fiddling with a loose thread by the end of his sleeve. The fall season brought a night frigid breeze that blew his hair over his eyes like a curtain, making him pout. You hugged your body as you neared him, brushing his brown tresses from his face, though the wind reversed your efforts in no time.

He pressed a kiss to your palm as he became a puddle under your touch, appreciating the way your toasty hand felt against his icy skin. Steve took his own turn rubbing at your arms when he saw you visibly shiver, teeth nearly chattering. "You wanna tell me where we're goin'?" Misty clouds left short-lived trails in the air between the two of you when you spoke.

"Now where's the fun in spoiling the surprise now?" He opened the car door to punctuate his sentence, gesturing you inside. You could only rebut with a roll of your eyes as you entered, though you and Steve both knew you were loving every bit of this. It warmed your heart knowing he was so keen on saving your day from the horror it started it out to be.

Digging through the glove compartment, you sifted through old receipts and other rubbish that really needed to be thrown away, searching for the mixtape you and Steve made for little times like these. Moments that may now seem small, but would soon become memories that you'd cherish for years to come. It served as a little time capsule; hearing the songs you two carefully picked, easily transporting you to these times even when you'd become gray and old.

As Steve began driving off, your fingers found the sneaky cassette that was scribbled with yours and Steve's initials along with doodles of suns, to represent you, and poorly drawn anchors in honor of Steve's Scoop Ahoy era, to represent him.

Regardless of Steve's slight disdain for that period of time, it was one of your favorites and obviously that was due to the fact that the uniform he wore, showed off his legs in the best way possible. It was the perfect eye candy that summer.

The low sound of Bob Marley singing Could You Be Loved floated through the quietness of the car, easing away any tension within you that might've still been trapped. You admired the way the town was so still. The time was hardly 11 p.m., yet there wasn't a soul to be seen; only lonely litter that drifted through the breeze, aimlessly. It was a stark difference from just a few hours ago when you had to dodge shoulders as you cut through the crowded streets on your way home.

The sky was dark and empty apart from the glowing crescent moon that seemed to be chasing you as you drove. It was the only light source you had aside from the street lights that lined the sidewalks. You started counting them and even got to as far as nineteen, but soon lost count once Steve picked up his speed a bit.

Your eyelids threatened to close as the calming drive coupled with the music, fought to lull you to sleep. But instead, bright neon lights stung your sensitive eyes that grew accustomed to the darkness. Squinting, you read the colorful sign labeled "Darling's Diner", and nostalgia strikes you. It had been years. Too many years since you and Steve had been here last.

"Holy shit," you glimmered, hurriedly unbuckling your seatbelt. Steve's hand that found comfort on your thigh during the ride gave it a squeeze before he put the car in park, rushing over to open your car door. He took your hand in his, adoring the way your stunned face gleamed under the glow of the pink and blue neon bulbs. "Surprise," he cheered in a low tone, lightly bumping his shoulder against yours.

The smile you had burned your cheeks but the elation you felt made it all too easy to ignore. The feeling you got whenever you came to Darling's was something indescribable. There were countless fond memories attached to this place and it left you all soft and gooey inside to know that Steve planned on making more with you here. Instinctively, you practically dragged Steve behind you as you rushed inside, the homey scent of burgers, fries, and shakes wafting to your nose.

The floors were still the black and white checkered tiles you remembered them to be; stained with drops of grease and sprinkled with deserted fries. Walls were not much neater, though they were messy with posters and vinyl records instead.

"Want the usual?" Your nod was immediate and shortly after, Steve approached the busy woman impatiently pressing buttons on the register. Wisps of hair fell out of her ponytail and clung onto the film of sweat developing across her forehead. She visibly shrunk into herself as she heard the bell above the door ring, signaling new customers. It was a much busier night than usual.

Regardless of the surge of patrons, the booth you and Steve usually sat in once upon a time, wasn't occupied. The wears and tears corroding the red leather almost served as a name tag, assigning the seat for you two. It was impossible to forget the days Steve came here with you after school, carelessly doing homework while listening to whatever song played on the jukebox.

The table was tidy apart from laminated menus and coloring sheets scattered across the surface. You smirked thinking of the times you and Steve swore you could be the next Picassos, the way you took those things so seriously. As if they'd be hung in museums, you did your best to color them, but not without the added challenge of switching papers with Steve every few minutes. A fun little game you played.

Colored pencils sat by the condiments and you made yourself busy adding hue to the Back to the Future poster, sliding Steve a sheet with some random sports car you didn't know the name of, when he made his way over. He traded you with a cup of hot cocoa with jumbo marshmallows that threatened to abandon ship. "Thanks, Stevie."

"Anytime," he smiled, biting at the cherry that was kissed with a touch of the whipped cream that sat atop of his strawberry milkshake. His long legs brushed against yours as he sat next to you, knees finding mutual rest against each other.

A waitress on pink roller skates offered a kind smile as she brought over a basket of fries that Steve and you snacked on while you chatted and giggled, coloring your own and each other's papers as time seemingly flew by.

"How long has it been since we've last been here?"

"I couldn't tell you. Anything before senior year is such a blur," you responded, adding finishing touches to Steve's car before taking the last sip of your now barely hot, hot chocolate. "I'm just sad we stopped coming here."

"Me too," he swung an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in for an apologetic kiss to your temple. "But I promise to bring you a little more often. It was our spot when we were kids and it'll be our spot now."

You looked at him with bright eyes while hugging his torso, despite the awkward position. Trying to understand what you did to deserve someone like Steve was a dead mission, as you could never fully wrap your head around it. How does one try to understand why they've gotten so lucky?

He kissed away the marshmallow mustache idling on your upper lip before tapping your leg twice, "C'mon, we've got one more stop to make."

The spot he sat in was quickly losing its fever as he stood, holding a hand out for you to take, but you just stared at him with a face that was an odd marriage of scolding and amusement. "Steve," you warned.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, you can yell at me about it later. But I promise you'll love it." Waving his hand to urge yours into his, you accepted it with little hesitation at his grin. You wished the woman at the front a good night as you left the bistro, while Steve dropped a tip in the jar next to her.

He didn't let your hand go until you were sat in the passenger seat, subsequently getting behind the steering wheel, inserting the key in the ignition. You could tell Steve was tired too, the way he full-body stretched as he yawned, rubbing at his eyes that were getting a bit red from fatigue. He wanted to go to bed and cuddle and forget about the world just as much as you did. So why were you still out there?

"What's all this for, Harrington?"

He answered your question with another one of his own, "What's all of what for?"

"Tonight. Everything. The flowers, the diner, and now something else. I'm really grateful for it, don't get me wrong," you warmed his hand when you held it, "but why so much?"

Steve shrugged, averting his gaze to the gear shift sitting between you two. He softly rubbed at your knuckles while he gathered his thoughts.

"Well, you told me that you had a shit day. Just wanted to change that. I like when you're happy."

Your throat felt like it was closing in on itself and your chest stung when tears pricked at your eyes. Steve looked back at you affectionately, the voice of his eyes telling you just how much he cared for you. It made your heart so full. It was too much to handle sometimes.

"I like when you're happy too, Stevie," you beamed, blinking away the pool by your bottom eyelashes. Cupping his cheek, you pushed your plump lips against his that were a little chapped, though you didn't seem to mind at all. Reluctantly, you pull away and Steve doesn't think it was nearly long enough as he sneaks in a few extra pecks.

The drive to wherever on Earth it was that Steve was taking you, was much different compared to the one prior. It almost didn't look like Hawkins. For the past couple miles, Steve's burgundy BMW had been the only car on the road. The trees were taller, a darker green and stronger in numbers than the ones you were used to. The street lamps were less abundant and dimmer than usual, and the animal crossing signs told you that you were more than just a little ways from home.

You had almost said something until Steve pulled off to the side, parking the car on an empty hill just off the road that overlooked Hawkins and the neighboring city. It looked so small from here. Steve smirked at the puzzled expression you threw his way as you removed your seatbelt.

"Before you ask, just come outside. There's something I wanna show you."

You didn't bother waiting for Steve to open the door for you, as you stepped out, attempting to conjure up what he could possibly be wanting to show you out here. There was nothing to be seen but dirt and fallen leaves and branches. "What exactly am I supposed to be looking at?"

"Look up," he responded, leaning against the hood of the car.

Your furrowed eyebrows relaxed as a gasp fell from your lips at the sight of the cloudless sky, lighting up with numerous twinkling stars, an image you could only dream of seeing for yourself since you were a little girl. The mighty city that sat so close to Hawkins fostered light pollution that made it nearly impossible to see the stars at night. If you were lucky, you were only able to make out about one or two, though you weren't sure if they had been stars or planets, instead. Either way, it ignited your soul to be able to see such a bright and beautiful piece of the universe, making you feel so small in the best way possible.

That didn't nearly amount to this very moment though, where there were more stars that you could count, sitting so prettily in the midnight sky.

Mouth still agape, you utter, "Steve, it's beautiful," and other than that, you were rendered speechless. You couldn't dare to tear your eyes from it, worried that if you did, it would all disappear, proving to be a mere hallucination from your tiredness. Steve adored the way you stared at the heavens, noticing the way it was the same way you looked at him. All he could see was a clear reflection of the stars in your eyes, and it perfectly spoke to the way he felt about you.

He saw everything when he looked at you. The sun, the moon, the stars, the universe, even the galaxy. His past, his present, his future. All of it. To him, you encompassed everything beautiful and divine. He was convinced you were too good for this planet. Too extraordinary. How did he get so lucky?

"Look," you pointed at two stars that sat close to one another, shining impossibly brighter than the others, "do you think that's us in another universe?"

Steve smiled at your question, cherishing how whimsical you could be sometimes. Your voice was soft and full of wonder and he couldn't be more content in this moment. "Yeah," he nodded at you, "I'm yours in every universe, sunshine." He kissed the back of your hand, holding your intertwined hands against his chest.

"Y'know I was thinking to myself the other day about how weird relationships are," he stated, looking down at his feet. You peeled your eyes away from the sky, gazing at your boyfriend for the first time since you stepped out of the car. "Weird, how?"

"I don't know, like how you randomly meet someone and get to know them really well and one day just decide, 'I like this human. I'm gonna spend all my time with them and take care of them.' Maybe weird isn't the word, but it's definitely interesting," he rambled, talking with his hands, even the one that was still laced through yours.

You nodded along, understanding where he was coming from. It was something you'd thought about yourself. He continued, "Like, I look at us and how far we've come and it scares me a little 'cause I see how my parents are now. They were best friends before they got married and now I can count on only one hand the amount of times I've seen them hug or kiss. Freaks me out."

This was one of the few times Steve spilled what was weighing on his mind. You could always tell when something bothered him and though he'd give you bits and pieces when you asked what was wrong, it was never anything as nuanced as this. It made you proud to see him develop so much.

"We're not them, Steve. It's like you said, I'm yours in every universe. Maybe they aren't each others every universe," you sighed, "We won't end up like them, I promise"

You always knew how to reassure him. It was one of the things Steve loved so much about you; your way with words. Nothing sort of a poet, he thought. He engulfed your face with his palms, kissing you with every ounce of passion he had.

Lowly in the background, you could hear the song Just the Two of Us by Grover Washington, as the mixtape was still playing in his car. "It's our song," you smiled against his lips when you pulled away. You took his hands from your face, grasping them when you asked him, "Dance with me?"

He nodded, holding your body against his as your head fell against his chest, looking down at the sleeping town that felt so far away. You swayed back and forth, finding comfort in the near silence, listening to the rhythmic beating of Steve's heart. "Thank you for this, Steve," you whispered. "I'm lucky to be yours."

"Even if you weren't, I'd still do it for you," he admitted, running hand across your back, tenderly.

The little sentence made you think. Steve has been in your life for well over a decade now and he never failed to be there for you even when you didn't know how to ask for it. He was the one who took care of you whenever you found it a little difficult to take care of yourself. The one who never dared to leave your side.

You and Steve were in love even before you were. You'd been celestial even before this.

"I love you, sunshine," he murmured, head resting on top of yours.

"I love you back, Stevie."

💌 1 new message from jojo: pls pls pls comment/reblog (or both teehee) if you enjoyed, it means a lot! inbox is open!

#steve harrington #steve and sunshine #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x black!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x poc!reader #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington headcanon #soft!steve harrington #joe keery #stranger things

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 6 months

Note

I request a Reader who helps Kinger stay sane for a few moments before he goes back to being insane. Basically Reader would be Kinger's anchor in the circus's reality

I see "anchor" and I raise you: a Reader who's also a chess piece like him--except they're a small Pawn (since pawns are the first line of defense)

......

"Kinger? Why don't you come on out of there?"

"H-Huh...?" Nervously peeking out from behind the safety of his pillow fort, Kinger gazed up at your extended hand. Already he was feeling stressed out, wondering what your intentions were. "Why? Is Caine calling us? Did Pomni talk about an exit again?? Is somebody abstracting???"

He took a deep breath, before staring at you intensely, eyeballs trembling. "Are YOU abstracting???"

"No, no, no, and..definitely no." You calmly answered him. "I was just thinking we could get some fresh air outside."

"..l-like out into the grounds?"

"Perhaps by the digital lake. It's quiet and away from all of this...mess. I think it'll be good for both of us."

".....are you sure?"

"I'm sure. I'll keep you safe, Your Majesty."

"Y-Your Majesty?" Kinger repeated, blinking a few times. "Oh my, haven't heard that one in a long time.....but yes, we can certainly go [y/n]. It would be good for us to get out."

You smiled, noticing how there was a lot less edge to his voice now, a sign he had regained some lucidity and calmness--two things he has lacked in recent years.

As you helped him out of the fortress, you realized his hands weren't even shaking anymore. And that was a huge sigh of relief.

"Thank you again for shooing away Jax, by the way. T-Today is...definitely not a good day for him to prank me. I wasn't in the mood."

"Of course." You nodded in understanding. "A pawn's gotta protect their king."

There were rare times where Kinger was calm and composed--and those times became even rarer ever since Queener abstracted. You were a small yet loyal protector of the duo, but when you failed to keep his wife from going insane...you made an oath to ensure your king didn't fall down the same path.

Because if he ever abstracted, too, you didn't know what you were going to do with yourself..

You may as well ask Caine to throw you down into the cellar.

Even so, this momentous task didn't come without its challenges: Pomni's unexpected arrival, Kaufmo's abstraction, and the entire Gloink situation genuinely left him feeling stressed out for a while, making him more paranoid over abandoning his "sanctuary".

Fortunately, you were able to snap him out of that mindset, as you two were currently on your way to the Grounds--specifically where the waterpark was.

But you weren't planning on riding the twisty and colorful slides. Not today, at least.

Rather, you sought out a quiet place to sit and gaze up at the cloudy sky, not caring whether it was day or night out (although you're glad it's currently the daytime, as you'd rather not hear the Moon gush about her crush on Caine).

Eventually, you found a spot and sat together in the grass. "This is nice." You hummed.

"It sure is." Nodding, Kinger allowed himself to relax, gloved fingers gently stroking the thin strands of green that surrounded him. "You know..it's funny how you chose this particular spot."

"How so, my king?" You looked to him, curious.

"..I remember she..and I...well....she took me to this exact same place when I needed to get away from everybody." He recounted. "I know we were on opposite sides of the board, but..we never let that stop us from being together, of course." A soft chuckle left him, and he sighed longingly. "It did feel like it was us against the world, [y/n].."

"Mhm." You nodded, remaining quiet and admiring the low-poly count seagulls that flew by.

"She believed our fates were "intertwined"..and as cheesy as it sounded, I wanted to believe that. Perhaps we did meet outside of this world...and have simply fallen in love a the second time."

"That may be possible. It's like you're both..destined to be together no matter what or where you are."

"...maybe that's why she abstracted."

"..what?" Looking to Kinger, you noticed he was now grabbing onto fistfuls of grass, and you began to realize something was wrong.

"I have not told you the whole story, but Queener was....desperate to know of our connection outside of this place. Her and I wanted to know what we lost....were we ever married? Engaged? Neither of us could recall, and...i-it kept us up all night." His voice began to waver with growing anxiety.

"Kinger-"

"She wanted to remember so badly and began looking for exits, e-even though I warned her that Caine wouldn't like that. She didn't care. She was a tough cookie, never liked being told what to do. But god...I should have done more to stop her."

"Kin-"

"Now she's in that dark cellar with Kaufmo, cold and alone...oh no.." He put his hands to his head. "She'll never see such beautiful sights such as this again! Only darkness and-!"

"Kinger!" You firmly spoke up, stopping his ramblings as he stared back at you with bloodshot eyes. "Listen, nothing she did was your fault. I know it's easy to blame yourself, but-"

All of the sudden, he screamed in fear, which caused you to flinch away. But then he blinked a few times, recognizing your face.

"O-Oh goodness..it's you, [y/n].." Putting a hand to his chest, he exhaled a shaky breath, before abruptly standing up. "I'm sorry, I've said too much. I...I-I don't think I want to be here anymore.." He anxiously brushed the dirt particles off his robe.

You stood as well, realizing that his brief moment of lucidity had passed. Although short-lived, you were grateful for the time it did allow you to spend together, enabling him to reminisce.

Yet deep down you felt a little guilty for bringing him to the digital lake. It wasn't your intention to remind him of what him and Queener could no longer share.

But perhaps...you shouldn't take him out here anymore. For his sanity's sake.

"That's okay, my lord. We'll...head back to the tent and you can rest up."

Kinger nodded in agreement with your suggestion, allowing you to lead him back into the tent, returning him to the safety of his fortress.

While he huddled away inside like a bear going into hibernation, blocking the entrance with a pillow, you stood on-guard with a foam sword.

At some point, Jax passed by, asking you if Kinger was still mad at him for earlier. But you just sent him a cold glare and threatened to cut his ear off if he dared step any closer.

The rabbit just rolled his eyes, knowing you couldn't actually harm anyone with that weapon even if you tried, although he left you alone.

'Hmph, good riddance.'

If he was smart, he'd know better than to disturb your king.

It's your sworn duty to protect him, after all.

#clanask #the amazing digital circus x reader #tadc x reader #tadc kinger #platonic #hurt/comfort

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hbyrde36 · 24 days

Text

Chapter 2: Into My Heart

Written for the @strangerthingsreversebigbang

Art below and here by @glitterfang

Beta'd by @penny00dreadful

Rating: E | WC: 4371 | Chapters: 2/2 | AO3 Link

CW: Smut

Eddie tucked the bottle of whiskey, concealed in its nondescript brown paper bag, under his arm—freeing his hands to unlock the apartment door. Wine just wasn’t going to cut it tonight, he’d decided on his way home. Disappointment to this degree called for something stronger, and as luck would have it the liquor store was a convenient stop on his way.

“Honey! I'm home!” He called out, kicking the door closed behind him hard enough to shake the walls.

Chrissy startled, jumping about a foot in the air from her seat on the sofa. “Do you have to do that every time?”

He grinned, tossing his keys on the little table they kept by the door.

She flipped him off.

Their apartment was small, its entrance, living room, and kitchen all essentially one big room, and he could feel her eyes tracking his every movement as he crossed the space. Wordlessly he took a rocks glass out of the cabinet and sloshed about a shot and a half's worth of amber liquid into it from his newly acquired bottle, and downed it all in one go.

Could he have just used a shot glass? Probably. But this way was classier, and he liked the feel of the heavy bottomed cup in his hand. He’d drink the second one a little slower, maybe even add some ice.

“Well, that’s not a good sign. Hard session?” Chrissy asked.

Hard.

A manic laugh bubbled up from his throat as he thought back to the beginning of his appointment with Steve. “You could say that.”

“That’s… concerning.” She mumbled, upending her wine glass to catch the final drops before setting it down on the table. “Might as well just bring yourself and that bottle over here. Come sit, tell me all about it.”

Eddie was too keyed up to sit. He paced back and forth in front of the couch as he went through the whole thing detail by detail. He wasn’t sure what the ethics were of recounting the entire interaction for her, particularly the sensitive bits—about Steve's sensitive bits, but he supposed there was no such thing as tattooist/client confidentiality.

“Maybe she’s just like, a really close friend?” Chrissy said when he was done.

“No, Chris. I'm telling you, he basically called her his soulmate. You should have seen the way he glowed when he talked about her. It was like his whole stupidly-fucking-pretty face lit up from the inside.”

Chrissy groaned, taking a swig directly from his bottle, like a heathen, and slumped down in her seat.

“I want thaaaaat.” She whined.

Eddie plopped down hard next to her, heaving a sigh. “Don’t we all.”

In an attempt to put it all out of his mind and enjoy what was left of his Friday night in peace–-without being plagued by thoughts of cute little moles and dazzling hazel eyes, Eddie changed into comfy clothes, queued up the next episode in their Drag Race rewatch, and cuddled up next to Chrissy. Unfortunately, as hard as he tried to concentrate on the queens and the drama unfolding on the screen in front of him, he couldn't stop thinking about Steve. Not even the Snatch Game could hold his attention.

Apologies to you Jinkx Monsoon, Eddie mused regretfully. It’s not you, it’s me. You were wonderful.

After much hemming and hawing, and one too many woe-is-me sighs from his side of the couch, Chrissy yanked the remote out of his hand and hit pause.

Rude.

“Did you have something you needed to say, princess?”

Eddie grumbled. “I just wish I didn't have to see him again.”

“That’s dramatic.”

“What if you did it for me?”

“What? The tattoo?!”

“Come on, I'll owe you one—a big one. Just, I dunno, we'll let Steve show up for his appointment and then you’ll tell him I’ve got, like, food poisoning or whatever, and didn’t want to have to cancel on him at the last minute, so you’re going to finish up his color. I’ll show you the sketches—It’ll be great. It's more your style than mine anyway.”

Chrissy raised both eyebrows, crossing her arms over her chest. “Sounds like you’ve got it all worked out, Munson.”

“So you’ll do it?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on.” Eddie slid down to the floor, falling to his knees in front of her and lifting his hands in prayer. “Please?”

“No! This is ridiculous, Eddie! I can’t believe you’re even considering… What's the big deal anyway? So you thought he was cute, you both flirted a little, so what? Now you can’t even face the guy?”

She narrowed her eyes, staring down at his, admittedly, pathetic display. “You didn't do something embarrassing did you? Is there more to this story than you're telling me?”

“No.” Eddie reared back, giving up his wide-eyed begging which was clearly not working on her—damn lesbians and their immunity to his boyish charms—and pulled himself back up into his seat.

She hummed suspiciously.

“You don’t understand. He’s like, perfect.”

“Aww,” She cooed, wrapping him up in a one-armed hug. “You really have it bad for him don’t you?”

Eddie leaned into her, pouting. He couldn’t even argue.

She flicked his bottom lip. He flinched away.

“Ow!”

“No pouting!”

She huffed a laugh, but when he didn’t crack her mouth turned down into a sympathetic frown. “Are you absolutely sure there’s no hope?”

“Chris, he’s covering up one woman's name with a bird to represent another. He’s taken—and an idiot. A very hot, very sweet, kind to kids and old ladies, idiot. It’s over, that’s it, no chance.”

As if to mock the way he was dreading their upcoming appointment, the next six weeks flew by for Eddie in a blur, and before he knew it the day had arrived. It was another Friday afternoon appointment, apparently the only time Steve was available between his work schedule, spending time with his D&D loving adoptive brother, and whatever other altruistic endeavors he got up to in his daylight hours. Probably saving kittens from trees and shit.

At least he wouldn’t have to go through it alone this time, Chrissy had promised to stick around whether she had a client or not, though, he wasn't naive enough to think she was doing it solely out of the kindness of her heart. Oh no, she wanted to get a look at Steve with her own eyes and see what all the fuss was about.

Eddie paced back and forth in his studio, arranging and rearranging his supplies and setup as he watched the clock tick down to Steve’s arrival.

“Oh my god, since when did you become so high strung?” Chrissy gaped at him from the doorway.

He wondered how long she’d been watching him freak out.

“I don’t fucking know, alright?!” Eddie hissed, sitting down heavily in his desk chair. He picked up the color mock up of Steve’s tattoo, the one he’d be using as a reference, and ran a finger along the edge. “He just… I dunno, he weaseled his way inside me and now I can’t shake him.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Gross.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

The bell above the front door dinged, the sound carrying into his room, and Eddie peered back at the clock. Ten minutes early—the boy was punctual, he’d give him that.

Chrissy smiled mischievously, darting back out to the lobby. Eddie raced along behind trying to catch up, knowing full well it would be a bad idea to leave her alone with Steve for any length of time. She’d probably try to interrogate him or something.

Eddie locked eyes with the man of the hour the moment he slid around the corner, his shoes squeaking on the linoleum. An easy smile spread across Steve's face. He looked genuinely happy to see him, but that was probably due to the prospect of finally getting his tattoo finished.

“Eddie,” Steve released his name like a sigh of relief. “It’s good to see you.”

It sounded like he meant it, and If Eddie didn’t know better he’d think Steve had also spent the last 6 weeks pining, and thinking of their time together obsessively.

Until this moment he had held out hope that maybe somehow this time would be different. That maybe going into it knowing that Steve wasn’t available would make it easier to deny the pull he felt, but then he cast his eyes down and realized Steve was wearing those same fucking Levi’s again.

It’d been weeks. It could easily have been a coincidence, just the next clean pair of pants in his rotation, but there was no way Steve didn’t know what he looked like in those unholy jeans. Had he done this on purpose?

Either way, Eddie didn't know whether to be grateful for the view, or throw himself out the window into oncoming traffic.

Chrissy cleared her throat loudly.

Shit. He’d been staring too long again.

Eddie shook himself mentally. “Steve, this is Chrissy.”

“Nice to put a face to the name.” She said, giving a little wave.

Steve's eyes slid briefly to Eddie, narrowed and curious. Probably wondering why he’d told her about him at all.

He was gonna kill her.

“You too.” Steve said with a quirk of his brow. “Eddie told me how you two met and opened this place together. Must be great to get to work with your best friend everyday.”

“Could be worse I guess.”

Eddie cut her a hard look. “Don’t you have some cleaning to do?”

With a smirk, Chrissy winked at Steve, then mercifully did head off towards her own studio.

“We should go get started.” Eddie said, leading the way to the back to his room. “Sorry about her.”

Steve chuckled. “She seems nice. I think Robin would like her.”

Eddie clenched his jaw, turning away to hide his scowl. “I’m sure she would.”

Steve knew the drill now and took off his shirt without being asked, getting comfortable in the chair while Eddie slipped a pair of gloves on and pulled his stool over, examining the healed lines of the half-finished tattoo.

He hummed, impressed. “You did a good job taking care of it.”

Steve shrugged, but Eddie noticed the way he preened a little at the praise. “I did exactly what you told me to do.”

Fuck.

There was just something about a man who followed directions.

Eddie took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly through his nose. He was going to give himself whiplash at this rate.

He prepped Steve’s skin in silence and got right to his task, trying to focus on the thrumming of the machine, instead of the rise and fall of the other man’s chest under his gloved hands—thankful that Steve didn’t seem to be having the same reaction to the initial pain that he had before.

“I told Dustin about you.” Steve blurted out after a while.

The sudden sound of his voice, as well as the words themselves caught Eddie off guard.

“What?”

Steve’s body flushed and Eddie flicked his eyes up, finding a matching shade of pink spreading over his face. “Yeah, I'm pretty sure he thinks you're the coolest guy in the world now. A tattoo artist and you play D&D? I had no chance.”

“Oh.”

Eddie went quiet, not sure what he was supposed to do with that—with any of this. He got back to work, hoping Steve would leave it there. He didn’t want to be rude, but he also didn’t want to play whatever game this was anymore.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked. “You seem… I don't know… different today?”

Eddie could have said, how would you know, you’ve only met me once? Or, we spent a few hours together, why do you care? Or something else equally passive aggressive, but… Steve wasn’t wrong and Eddie wasn’t in the business of gaslighting people.

Telling a little white lie though? That was fair game.

“I have a headache, that’s all. It’s fine.”

It was fine. He just needed to do his job and get this over with.

But of course, Steve had to be perfect and sweet about that too.

“I’m sorry. I get migraines sometimes, so I get it. Doc says it’s from getting knocked in the head one too many times playing high school sports. I was very dedicated.”

Steve laughed a little at himself, and Eddie couldn't help but look up again to see the way his eyes crinkled with it. Steve tilted his head, mouth turned up at the corners as he gazed down at Eddie. “Doesn’t seem worth it, in hindsight.”

Despite trying not to, Eddie smiled back and could feel himself getting drawn in again.

He forced himself to turn away.

“Are you sure you're alright, though?” Steve continued. “If you're not feeling well–”

“I’m fine. I'm not going to mess your ink up or anything, don’t worry.”

“Hey,” Steve said tenderly, waiting until Eddie had stilled the machine again to lay a tentative hand on his upper arm. “I wasn't worried about that.”

“Oh.” Eddie swallowed a gasp, feeling like his skin was on fire under the touch.

“We can reschedule if you need to, it’s okay.”

Fuck, Steve was entirely too thoughtful.

And what was Eddie even doing? Trying to be cold and aloof, pretending to have a headache to explain why he wasn’t talking? It wasn’t fair to the guy. It wasn’t Steve’s fault he’d developed an extremely inconvenient crush—that he couldn’t handle a little innocent friendly flirtiness without losing his mind.

“No. I promise I'm–”

I’m just an idiot.

“I, uh, took some ibuprofen before you got here. I’m already feeling better.”

Finally, Steve let it go, allowing Eddie to get back to work without disturbing the quiet between them again. At least now the silence was almost comfortable.

Art by Glitterfang

The time went by quickly. Eddie did glance up every so often to make sure Steve was okay, always surprised to find the other man’s eyes fixed on his face, rather than the tattoo, making Eddie’s stomach flip each time.

The finished piece was beautiful, and honestly Eddie thought it might be some of his best work, even if it wasn’t his usual style. After a thorough cleaning he held a mirror up so Steve could see it better. He teared up a bit as he inspected his reflection.

“It's even better than I could have imagined.” Steve turned away from the mirror to face him, smiling and looking so sincere it made Eddie’s heart ache. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome. I’m really glad you’re happy with it.” Eddie bit at his bottom lip. “Well, you already know your care instructions, so i’ll get this wrapped up and you’ll be good to–”

Steve cut him off abruptly. “Do you… um, I mean, could I get your number?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Steve.” Eddie said, heart hammering in his chest. He couldn't do this. He didn’t want to only be Steve’s friend, and if somehow the other man wanted his number for more than that, well, he didn’t want to be a homewrecker either.

Steve deflated, looking hurt, which was a little ridiculous considering he was the one with a whole-ass girlfriend. “But I thought maybe… since we’re done now, and I’m not a client anymore–”

“Look,” Eddie interrupted. “It’s sweet that you want to be friends or whatever, but–”

“No, I–”

“Knock-knock” Chrissy sing-songed, appearing in the doorway rapping her knuckles on its frame. “There’s someone here to see Steve.”

Saved by the bell.

“We’re about done if you want to tell them to just–”

“Great, I'll send her in!”

Her?

Eddie was gonna kill Chrissy, for real this time.

Worst. Friend. Ever.

A very cute girl with a chin length bob bounced into the room. Eddie got as far as noticing the spray of freckles across her nose and cheeks before he had to look away, using cutting down a square of Saniderm to the correct size as an excuse.

She wasn’t quite what Eddie had pictured as the girlfriend of a gym bro—okay, Steve wasn’t exactly a gym bro but Eddie was allowed to be salty about it in his own mind if he wanted to—but to his dismay, they made a nice looking couple.

“Hey Dingus, how’s it going?” She said.

Odd term of endearment, but okay.

“Eddie, this is Robin.” Steve said.

“Yeah I figured that one out all on my own, thanks.” Eddie muttered, rolling back up to Steve on his chair with the bandage in hand.

Steve furrowed his brow, staring from Eddie over to Robin and back again. Suddenly his eyes went wide. “My roommate, Robin.”

“O… kay?” Eddie shrugged, ducking his head to start covering the tattoo. Weird fucking way to refer to your live-in girlfriend, but whatever. He was over it. He just wanted to get the happy couple out of his tattoo shop so he could go home and–

Eddie sucked in a breath as Steve lightly gripped his arm again. He looked up, ready to be annoyed—the audacity of this guy to keep flirting with him, right in front of his girlfriend, but stopped short when he saw the soft pleading look in Steve’s eyes.

“My best friend, platonic with-a-capital-p, lesbian roomate, Robin.”

Wait, what?

“Wait, what?!” Eddie nearly shouted.

He whipped his head around to look at Robin again. He’d only glanced at her before, not noticing much more than her hair and denim jacket, but on closer inspection he saw her neatly trimmed manicure, and the fact that she was wearing men’s jeans with a carabiner holding her keys hanging from one of the belt loops.

None of those things were a guarantee of course, plenty of straight women also kept short nails and had masculine leaning senses of style, but when he spotted the pink, white, and orange stripes of the lesbian flag stitched into her lapel, he figured that was as sure a sign as any.

“Oh.” Eddie breathed, turning back to Steve.

“Yeah, oh.” Steve parroted back softly, his mouth spreading into a tentative smile.

“B- but I thought… and the tattoo!” Eddie stuttered.

“Is that why you were acting so weird? Because you thought Robin was my–” Steve shook his head as if that very idea were unthinkable. “You thought that I was covering up my ex's name with a new girlfriend?”

Eddie squirmed. “...No.”

“Eddie?”

“Well, what was I supposed to think?!”

“Oh shit, were you jealous?!” Robin blurted out.

“Robin!” Steve hissed.

“Oh I'm sorry,” she said, tilting her head side-to-side, the words absolutely dripping with sarcasm. “Was I supposed to pretend the tension in here wasn’t thick enough to choke on?”

Eddie bit his tongue, locking eyes with Steve. Steve broke first, letting out a loud but very adorable snort of laughter.

Robin’s face went bright red, realizing what she’d said.

“Birdie, can you just give us a minute?” Steve asked her, when he’d regained control of himself.

“Fine,” She sighed. “But I'm only going because Chrissy said she’d pierce my nose for free.”

“Slut.”

“Shut up.”

Robin moved to leave but paused on the threshold, looking back at them over her shoulder. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” She called out, taking hold of the knob and pulling the door to his studio shut behind her.

Eddie wasn’t sure it’d ever been closed before.

“So, when you asked me for my number?”

Steve nodded. “It was because I wanted to ask you out.”

“I’m such an idiot.”

Steve reached out to tuck a stray curl behind Eddie’s ear. “Does that mean maybe you’ve changed your mind about me calling you?”

Eddie eyed up the now closed door and let himself do what he’d wanted to since the first time Steve sat shirtless in his chair, and climbed up onto it, straddling the other man’s lap.

“Is this okay?” He asked, hovering his mouth over Steve’s, close enough that a hard thought would have their lips brushing.

“Yes.” Steve whispered, leaning in to close the almost non-existent space between them.

It was tentative and unsure at first, the way Steve’s lips moved against his own, testing—tasting, but then he whined, a high-pitched and needy sound deep in his throat that went straight to Eddie’s dick, and opened his mouth wide.

Eddie took it for the invitation it was and licked inside, their tongues sliding together as their bodies did the same, grinding and making out like a couple of teenagers in the backseat of a car, both growing hard.

Suddenly Steve broke the kiss, panting, “Wait, wait, wait.”

“Shit. Sorry, I shouldn’t have–” Eddie tried to climb off but found himself held firmly in place by Steve’s broad hands on his waist.

“No, please. I just need to know… is this only a hookup for you?” Steve asked once he’d caught his breath. “It’s okay if it is,” he added quickly. “I just hoped–”

The rest of Steve’s words were lost to a gasp as Eddie ran fingers through his hair, gently tilting his head to the side for better access to the other man’s speckled neck. Eddie scraped his teeth gently over Steve’s pulse point, licking up the column of his throat to speak low and close to his ear. “While I do fully intend on sucking your dick here and now, if you’ll let me–”

Steve whined again, hips thrusting up and into Eddie of their own accord.

Eddie shuddered, pressing a kiss to the skin just behind Steve's ear and finally sat back, looking him in the eye. “I’m not really into hookups, not anymore, and I would love to take you out after.”

Steve's eyes fluttered, watching heavy-lidded and open mouthed as Eddie slid down his body until he was eye level with the obvious bulge in his pants, nosing over it.

“Not before?” Steve croaked out, struggling to speak as Eddie teased him mercilessly.

Eddie rested his cheek against Steve’s denim covered cock, looking up at him through the thick curtain of his lashes. “Sweetheart, I've been dying to get my lips wrapped around you since the first time you got hard in my chair. If it’s alright with you, dinner can wait.”

“Fuck.” Steve bit down on his bottom lip and wound a hand into Eddie’s messy bun, nails scratching at his scalp.

“So, what do you say?” Eddie asked, smoothing his hands up Steve’s luscious thighs, resting them on either side of his fly as he waited for an answer.

Steve brought his other hand down to cup Eddie’s face running a thumb over his cheek. “It’s a date.”

Eddie grinned, making quick work of Steve's button and zipper, working his pants and underwear down just enough to let his hard length spring free.

Fuck it was pretty.

Not that that was a surprise. Everything about Steve was pretty.

Eddie flicked his tongue out, tasting the tip of him, dipping his tongue into the slit to capture a bit of precum that had spilled out.

“I’m not going to last very long.” Steve rasped.

“How long has it been since someone touched you?” Eddie asked, pressing an open mouthed kiss to the pink head of his cock.

Steve whimpered. “Too long.”

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll fix that. Just sit back and let me take care of you, okay?”

As much as he wanted to take his time and enjoy the feel of Steve sitting heavy on his tongue, for hours or days, those thighs pressing in on either side of him, Eddie was acutely aware that Robin and Chrissy were within earshot, and the door Robin had so helpfully closed did not have a lock. Quick and dirty was probably for the best.

Hopefully he would have many more opportunities to enjoy Steve at his leisure, assuming their date went well.

Eddie sank down, keeping his lips tight around Steve’s shaft as he took inch after inch of him inside, until he was nose deep in coarse curly hair.

It’d been a while for Eddie too, since he’d been with anyone like this, but it was like riding a bike, once you’ve mastered the art of taking a cock down your throat—you never forget.

Steve gripped the back of his head harder, not quite holding him down the way Eddie really wanted him to, but enough to let him know he was there. Eddie moaned around him as he began to bob his head, setting a rough pace that had Steve making the most debauched sounds above him.

“God, m’so close already, Eddie.” Steve cried out in warning, taking his hand away to give him the option of moving back. As if he’d waste the opportunity to taste him.

Eddie doubled his efforts, nearly choking himself for how deep he took Steve down, swallowing around him over and over again until finally he came—hot and thick and a little bitter, but oh so wonderful.

He didn’t pull off until Steve was soft in his mouth and writhing from oversensitivity.

Steve immediately pulled him back up into his lap, crashing their mouths together, moaning into the kiss when he undoubtedly caught a taste of himself on Eddie’s tongue.

Eventually Eddie broke the kiss, helping Steve tuck himself away and wiggle back into his jeans. He ignored his own arousal, content with this moment being all about Steve, anxious to keep his promise about taking the other man out on a real date.

“So, where would you like to go? What’s your favorite restaurant in the city?” He asked, settling himself back down into Steve’s lap once his clothing was back in place.

“What if instead we went back to my place,” Steve began, pulling him in close, dragging his lips over Eddie’s collarbone as he spoke. “I cook for us, you let me return the favor, and you can take me out to dinner next time.”

Eddie sucked in a sharp breath as Steve palmed him where he was already so painfully hard in his own jeans. “Already planning a second date?”

“And a third and a fourth. Is that okay?”

“Sounds perfect.”

#steddie fanfic #stranger things reverse big bang #tattoo artist eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #steddie fic #chrissy cunningham #robin buckley #strbb

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super-ion · 2 months

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Red & Wolf

(remaster - chapter 1)

Chapter 2: Wolf

It turned out that Loup’s grandmother's house was a surprisingly cozy looking cottage nestled deep in the woods.

The old woman herself was waiting for them at the door as if she were expecting them. Red didn't know her real name, it had always just been Grandmother. The grizzled old woman was studying them now, her face unreadable. She had always been kind to Red, more understanding than most, but there had always been a hard edged wariness to her.

Red swallowed a knot of apprehension, remembering how Loup told her how she had been forbidden from responding to Red's letters. It was a lot of her to ask for sanctuary here.

"Grandmother," Loup called,"you remember Red don't you?"

Grandmother studied Red with a neutral expression.

"I ran into her yesterday,” Loup continued with a defiant tone. “She was being pursued by agents of the queen."

Grandmother sighed.

"No one's ever accused me of being inhospitable and I'm not about to let anyone start," she huffed. "Come in, child. You'll be safe here."

Loup was helping herself to a second bowl of stew when Grandmother sat down across from her.

Red had recounted her tale to Grandmother as she wolfed down her own bowl of stew, eating so voraciously that Loup wondered when she had last eaten.

And now that Red had retired to the bathhouse for a well deserved soak, Grandmother was studying Loup intensely over steepled fingers.

"I know what you're going to say," Loup said sullenly around a mouthful of stew.

“Do you now?” Grandmother replied in her creaky voice.

“What was I supposed to do?” Loup argued back. “Was I supposed to just leave her there to get caught or worse?”

Grandmother sighed.

"Despite what you may think, I do care for that girl. I kept her away for her own protection as much as yours."

Loup's appetite vanished and she stirred idly, not meeting Grandmother's eyes.

"There are only five nights until the full moon, child. Does she know what you are yet?"

"No… I mean, I don't think so"

"And what do you plan on telling her when she starts asking questions?"

"I don't know," Loup muttered miserably.

After a long soak and what might have been the best sleep of her life, Red was feeling very much refreshed and more herself than she had felt in a very long time.

Loup however was uncharacteristically subdued and reticent, which sent unbidden panic through Red.

Had she done something wrong? Was this fragile renewed friendship doomed to falter now after they had only just found each other?

“Would you show me some of the forest?” she asked finally when she could bear it no longer.

Loup’s eyes brightened at that, but she hesitated in her reply.

“You sure?” she asked. “You're not worried about running into trouble again?”

“I thought you were the most dangerous thing in this forest,” Red replied with a forced laugh. “I trust you to keep me safe.”

Loup grinned even as a shadow flickered across her face. It was only when Grandmother threw up her hands in exasperation and shooed the two of them out of the house, that Loup finally relented.

But once back in her element Loup was fully recovered, revealing the side of herself that Red had so desperately missed over the last five years. She bounded ahead of Red, excitedly pointing out all of the different birds and wildflowers they passed.

They finally reached a clearing, completely non descript except for an ancient looking ring of stones and the tinkle of running water somewhere nearby.

“You remember how to start a fire?” Loup asked as she dug in her pockets for flint and steel that she tossed to Red.

“I'm… out of practice. Why?”

Loup flashed a lopsided smile that made Red's chest flutter.

“The best trout in the entire forest live in the stream near here. Get a fire going, maybe I'll share some with you."

Red grinned and Loup gave her a wink and trotted off. She busied herself, gathering sticks and clearing a space for a fire.

It had been quite a while, but Loup herself had taught her.

A twig snapped nearby. Red looked up and froze.

The queen's huntsman, Maximilian, was stalking towards her, watching the trees warily.

Red stood warily, ready to bolt.

The huntsman raised his hands in a half hearted gesture of placation.

"My… my lady," he began, stumbling over the title in a way that made Red's hackles rise, "please don't run. I have orders to bring you home. I wish you no harm, but I have no intention of leaving empty handed."

"No harm?" Red spat, with a mirthless laugh. "What do you think will happen to me when I return to the castle?"

The huntsman said nothing as he crept closer.

Red's heart was pounding now. He was stronger and faster than her. If she ran, if she fought, she would certainly end up in his grasp. It had been blind luck that had landed her in Loup's arms in the first place. She needed Loup, only together would they be enough to best him.

"Let me guess," she said, trying to stall him, "the queen realized that pig's heart was a fake and she sent you back after me."

He froze, his jaw clenching.

"Lady Antonia thought that if the queen believed you dead, she would call off the hunt."

Antonia… Red should have known her step sister had gotten her fingers into this mess. She was just as ruthless as her mother and twice as cunning.

“It didn't work did it? You tried to fool a witch and you've been given one last shot at success. What exactly did her ladyship, my stepsister, promise you? It must have been quite the reward if you were willing to go against the queen."

The huntsman's mouth twisted as the barb landed. Red had a pretty good idea of what Antonia had promised, an illicit relationship between her and the huntsman was an ever present topic of rumor among the palace staff.

He was too close now, almost within lunging distance. Red took a step back and readied a scream.

Before she could open her mouth, a blur of motion caught Red's attention. A hunting knife embedded itself in a tree just past them with a dull thud.

"Get away from her," Loup growled, as she drew a second knife from her belt.

Loup didn't dare take her eyes off the huntsman as Red scrambled to get behind her.

"You…" he said warily, somehow recognizing her.

How much about the conditions of her exile did he know?

"Red, run."

Her blood was roaring in her ears. The beast within was desperate to be free.

"But-"

"Go!" Loup snapped as she flung a handful of pebbles at the huntsman’s face.

He yelped in alarm, but she didn't spare him a backwards glance as she sprinted after Red.

Together they ran through the woods, dodging past trees and over logs. But just as she was beginning to believe they would make it, Red's ankle rolled. She let out a yelp of pain and collapsed to the ground.

Loup was at Red's side in an instant. In contrast to Red's heavy panting, Loup was barely winded. It was too close to the full moon and she was pushing herself dangerously close to the point of no return.

She didn't care. The only thing that mattered was keeping Red safe.

"Red! Are you okay? Can you get up?"

"I… I don't-"

Something struck Loup in the shoulder, spinning her. The air was knocked out of her lungs as her back slammed into the ground. She was distantly aware of someone screaming as searing pain and warm wetness were spreading from her shoulder.

The sharp scent of blood hit her as she became aware of the arrow protruding from her shoulder.

She painfully dragged herself to sitting and stared at the alarming amount of blood leaking from her body.

Whoever was screaming hadn't stopped. Loup looked up to see Red kicking and thrashing against the huntsman, who had a handful of her hair in his grip.

The caged thing inside her broke loose fully. Before she could think, she was on her feet and barreling towards them. She let out a wordless sound between a shout and a howl as she slammed into the huntsman with her uninjured shoulder.

He staggered back several steps and she positioned herself between him and Red.

"I said. Get. The hell. Away. From. Her." She said with her teeth barred.

She tore the arrow from her shoulder. The tip of it ripped her flesh and blood poured freely, but the wound was already stitching itself closed and she barely felt the pain any more.

The huntsman took another step back in shock, eyes widening with horror.

She tossed the arrow aside and snarled at him, more animal than human.

He mouthed a word, two syllables that sent an icy shard of fear that pierced through her rage.

He knew what she was. If he hadn't before, he certainly knew now.

He turned and fled as if the devil were chasing him.

She watched him go, but the roar in her veins didn't abate. Her teeth were too sharp against her tongue. The colors of the forest were muted but the shadows were sharper. She could hear every bird and every creature in the forest.

The full moon was still a few nights away, but still soon enough that the stress and blood loss were enough to trigger the change.

She tried to take a steadying breath though she knew it would prove futile. A familiar fever was taking root, with its aching muscles and crawling skin. She felt a stab of pain in her gut as her muscles cramped and she collapsed to her knees.

There was nothing she could do to stop it now.

"Loup!"

Loup curled up her hands as Red arrived at her side, but not before Red saw a flash of claws.

"Red, you need to run," Loup hissed.

"No, you're injured. You need-"

But Loup wasn't bleeding any more. Through the smear of blood, the injury was gone, replaced by a faded scar.

"What?" Red gasped.

Loup's hand shot out to grasp Red's wrist with an iron grip, inhumanly strong. She did indeed have claws now.

Red looked into Loup's face and was shocked to discover that the light brown eyes that reminded her of autumn had brightened to a startling gold. Those eyes were desperate, pleading, terrified.

Loup grunted again in pain and grimaced, flashing teeth that were now too long, too sharp to be human.

"Red," she gasped through the pain. "It's not safe. Run."

"I don't understand…"

But realization was already dawning on Red. The eyes, the teeth… Loup had lied when she said the Wolf was just a story. The creature was very much real and lay before her.

A voice in Red's head told her to run.

But Loup was her friend, her oldest friend… her only friend, if she was being truthful.

"Loup. I'm not leaving you"

"What? No, you can't stay! I don't want to hurt you!"

"I don't believe you will."

Loup's eyes snapped back to Red and for a moment she thought she saw a glimmer of hope.

Whatever Loup was about to say next was lost as she let out a sharp moan of pain and collapsed on her side. Red wanted to go to her, comfort her somehow, but the sounds of Loup's discomfort were sounding less and less human.

Instead she sank to her knees and watched in fascinated horror.

Loup tore off her jacket and cast it aside, revealing a sweat soaked shirt and roiling muscle beneath. Her claws lengthened and fur spread across her arms. She collapsed to all fours, shedding the remnants of shredded clothes. There were a few sickening pops and snaps as the bones in her feet rearranged and a furry tail emerged from her backside. Her face contorted, lengthening into a lupine snout and she let out a low howl.

The wolf shakes her head. The transformation is disorienting. She sniffs at the air, taking stock off her surroundings.

She is not alone.

She sees the human girl nearby. Her first instinct is to flee. She lays back her ears and curls her tail under her. The human girl is alone, but humans always mean trouble.

The human girl stinks of terror, but she remains still, watching the wolf.

"Loup?"

The wolf knows that voice. Her ears perk up and she cocks her head.

The human girl smiles softly and says something the wolf cannot quite understand.

The human girl holds out her hand. She is terrified, but her body language is composed and inviting. She is safe.

The wolf lays her ears back in submission and cautiously approaches. The human girl does not move as the wolf sniffs her hand curiously.

Satisfied, the wolf presses her forehead into the human girl’s palm.

"Good girl"

The wolf grins and wags her tail at those words. She will recall this moment in the morning with mild mortification, but for right now, the wolf is pleased.

Loup awoke painfully and groggily. The morning after a transformation was always terrible. Every single time, without fail, her head throbbed and her entire body ached worse than any hangover. The worst part was she usually woke up alone in the woods, cold and hungry and miles from home.

This time wasn't too bad. There was a comforting warmth pressed into her back that kept lulling her back to sleep. She dozed in and out of awareness, dreaming of arms wrapped around her and soft breathing against her neck.

She shifted slightly and the arm around her waist shifted with her. The breath murmured something drowsily.

Loup's eyes shot open and she immediately became aware of two things.

First, it was Red's body pressed into her back. It was Red's arm that was wrapped around her. It was Red’s breath that tickled her neck.

Second, she was naked. Very naked.

She made a panicked noise and scrambled to her feet.

"Whu-?" Red asked muzzily.

Loup glanced at Red who was blinking at her in sleepy confusion. A moment later, Red's eyes widened and she blushed furiously.

"Your… um… your clothes are over…"

Red gestured helplessly at the corner of the cave as she scrambled to turn her back on Loup and give her a modicum of privacy.

"Thanks," Loup replied, her own face burning.

Through the embarrassment, Loup realized a third thing.

Red had stayed.

Hazy memories of the night bubbled to the surface. Despite everything that happened, despite knowing what Loup was, Red had stayed.

They picked their way carefully back through the forest. Loup's boots had miraculously survived and her jacket was mostly unscathed save the arrow hole and the smear of dried blood. Everything else was a complete loss. She salvaged enough scraps to tie a makeshift bandeau around her chest and Red lent her leggings, which were far too tight in a way that Red could not stop staring at when she thought Loup wasn't looking.

Red's ankle still throbbed with dull pain as they made their way slowly back to the cottage. Loup remained quiet and pensive all morning until Red couldn't stand it any longer.

"So… um… about last night"

Loup's head snapped around, a flicker of panic on her face.

"What about it?" she asked cautiously.

"Well, you did transform into a wolf," Red replied.

Loup swallowed and nodded.

"So you're a werewolf?"

"Yes," Loup replied, looking away again.

Red's heart lurched at the expression of miserable resignation on her friend's face. Loup was supposed to be the strong one, the confident one. It tore Red apart to see her like this.

"Hey," she said and she grabbed Loup's arm. "It's okay, I'm here. I'm still your friend."

Loup's eyes were shining and her breath hitched a little.

"Thank you," she replied softly.

"How long? If you don't mind me asking," Red asked.

Loup looked away and wiped at her eyes.

"My whole life"

"Oh…"

Certain details of their childhood suddenly made a lot more sense to Red.

"And your grandmother, is she also… you know?" Red asked after some time.

"No, she's human," Loup replied. "Well, mostly. She is a witch after all. She isn't even really my grandmother. My mother was pregnant with me when she was turned. She had nowhere else to go and Grandmother took us in. My mother… she asked her to take care of me if anything ever happened."

Something flashed in Loup's eyes, the dull pain of loss that had never quite healed. It was a feeling that Red was familiar with.

"People like me," Loup continued. "We mostly just want to live our lives in peace, but people fear what they don't understand. Every terrible story and legend about us has a grain of truth in it. Every so often there's a bad wolf that makes fear curdle into hate.”

Loup sat heavily on a nearby log and let out a long sigh.

"I was five when they came for my mother,” she continued. “She bought us time to run. I don't know what happened to her, but I never saw her again. And then when I was fourteen, I got careless. I got caught and someone tried to hurt me and I defended myself. That's the real reason we left."

Loup sniffed and wiped tears from her cheek.

"I'm so tired of running. I'm tired of being a monster."

"Loup," Red said softly as she sat next to her. "Do you know why I stayed yesterday?"

Loup shook her head.

"I stayed because you are my friend. I know you and I know you would never hurt me. You are not a monster."

Red took her in a tight embrace.

"I'm glad you fell back into my life," Loup whispered.

Red released her and smiled up at Loup, who was looking at her with something like wonder.

Seized by a sudden impulse, Red brushed a lock of Loup's hair behind her ear and Loup gasped slightly as Red's fingers brushed her cheek.

Red's pulse quickened, suddenly aware of how close they were.

Loup's eyes were so bright with need, but there was that subtle, ever present glint of fear in her face. Red realized that even after everything, Loup was still afraid. She was still afraid that Red would see her as a monster and run.

But Red wasn't afraid. She knew what she wanted. She had wanted it since Loup crashed back into her life.

She closed the gap and their lips met. Loup's eyes widened in surprise as Red wrapped her arms around her, but after a moment of hesitation, she melted into the kiss.

#my writing #lesbian #transgender #writers on tumblr #fantasy #fantasy lesbians #transgender fairy tale #lgbtq fantasy #lgbtq fairy tail

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brighteststar707 · 5 months

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I was digging through my drafts last night and found this drabble from sometime last year. It's a little reset theory idea I was playing around with that ended with me writing the 'Tell Me A Story' short. I was inspired at the time by both Hadestown (the cyclical nature of the tragedy) and the Howl's moving castle film (when Sophie meets Howl in the past and asks her to wait for him).

I'm not sure if I'll ever flesh out this idea entirely so I thought I'd release this (unedited!) instead of leaving it to gather dust in my folder.

You already know how it ends. You’ve walked down this road so many times before.

A few months ago, you held Saeyoung in your arms as he drifted off to sleep. Usually you’re the one to fall asleep first. He always teases you about it. Tonight, though, you want to be awake for as long as possible.

You gently caress his head and whisper against his skin “Wait for me.”

As you feel the darkness wrap around you, heavier than sleep, you wonder if he heard you. If, somewhere in his dreams, he hears your voice echoing. Wait for me.

What a cruel request. If only you were selfless enough to let him forget you.

But you’re not. Which is why, tonight, you find yourself out late at night, staring at your phone screen waiting for it to hit midnight. When you close your eyes, you can still see the lock screen image flashing at you. The numbers, stubbornly stuck at 11:58PM.

Tonight, it’s cold. It’s been a while since you’ve experienced a winter here. Last time, you managed to spend a full year with him, August to August. Ironically, your least favourite time of year. Your memories are full of unforgiving heat. Nights where you pulled him outside with you, filled with a giddy childlike joy.

You have to work to keep the memories of each trip separate. To not let them bleed together. They all differ from each other slightly. The time of year, the persona you wore. The only thing that remained the same was the ending.

Finally, you feel your phone buzz with a message.

Unknown: …Hello…?

And finally, it begins. There’s always something magical about your first conversation with everyone.

You step into the apartment and resist the urge to look up at the security camera you know is pointed at you. Then, you turn around and give it a big smile and wave anyway. You imagine him watching you from his dark desk. Does he feel a small spark of recognition? Does he hear your voice, as if from a dream, begging him to wait for you?

You’re antsy. Desperate, even.

The first time he calls you, the air is electric. It’s like your whole being has been waiting to hear him again. You feel a warmth spreading through your fingertips.

You have to act startled, like a stranger. You shouldn’t make him suspicious.

Shouldn’t.

To pass the time, you let yourself imagine doing all the things you shouldn’t be doing.

In your dreams, you leave the apartment and go to his house. You’ve picked up enough Arabic to get past the security system (sometimes, in your more self-indulgent fantasies, it recognizes you and lets you in without a fuss; we’ve been waiting for you). All the lights are off, you find him sitting at his desk.

He turns around (he was expecting Vanderwood). You grab him by the shoulders and make him look at your face. You look into his eyes and will him to remember.

Sometimes he remembers. His expression softens into a smile and he holds you in his arms. He kisses every part of your face and tells you that he’s missed you.

In the more realistic fantasy, the Saeyoung you find is guarded. He is hostile and scared. He doesn’t know how to hope yet. You beg him to remember, recount memories of days together. tell him stories of two people so deeply in love that they’d cross time over and over again to be together.

He doesn’t believe you, and you already feel your heart shatter.

“You’re telling me stories. Fairy tales.”

“They’re memories. Yours and mine.”

Then it stops.

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger saeyoung #mystic messenger 707 #mystic messenger saeyoung choi #mystic messenger seven #mysme seven #mysme 707 #mysme luciel choi #mysme saeyoung choi #my writing

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randomvarious · 2 months

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Today's compilation:

Atlantic Rhythm & Blues 1947-1974 - Japanese Edition 2012 R&B / Doo Wop / Soul / Rock & Roll / Funk / Jazz / Blues / Pop

Alright, well, I had originally planned for this post to dovetail quite nicely with the end of Black History Month, but when you get a virus, it has a way of setting things back a bit. But then again, Black History should obviously be celebrated in every month, so either way, without further ado, here's a massive end to my foray into the history of Atlantic Records: a deeply comprehensive recounting of its first 27 years in the record business called Atlantic Rhythm & Blues: 1947-1974.

Now, maybe because of how this label is currently constituted, you think of Atlantic as being among the amorphous blob of major record labels whose fingers are seemingly in the pies of every popular genre, and the quality of the output is barely distinguishable from its other competitors. Like, who cares who's on Atlantic these days, right? A major label is a major label is a major label. They all basically feel indistinguishable from one another at this point, don't they?

But here's what you may not know about Atlantic in particular. For about two decades, until they started signing rock bands like Led Zeppelin, they were almost exclusively dedicated to nothing but secular, black-made music. And that's originally how they ended up making a name for themselves, as an independent label for black musicians that actually had a reputation for usually compensating their artists fairly.

So in 1985, the first iteration of Atlantic Rhythm & Blues 1947-1974 hit the shelves. It consisted of a whopping *186 songs*, chronologically spread across 14 separate records or 7 cassettes. And then in '91, it was reissued on CD in an 8-disc set, with an extra 17 songs mixed within.

But this edition that I have for you all today is a much, much rarer one that was issued exclusively in Japan in 2012. And what it consists of is the same eight discs from the 1991 reissue, plus two more, which have songs on it that were handpicked by Japan's own super selector, Keishi Suzuki, who ends up supplying 52 more songs—a lot of them rarities—bringing the total amount of tracks within the release to a grand total of *255*! 😯

Now, obviously, that is a whole lot of music, and I'm not gonna write an ungodly amount of paragraphs to cover it all, but regarding the first discs in this box set, what I'll say is this: these are must-listens for any old school r&b/soul/doo wop novice or junkie out there. These CDs do a wonderful job of allowing you to take a bird's eye view of this label that managed to develop itself into an indefatigable powerhouse for popular black music. From its earliest days of jazzy and jump-bluesy instrumentals, to its deeper endeavors into soul, you can trace this label's contours and get a feel for just how eminent its entire existence has been upon the history of popular music writ large. From its first star Ruth Brown—who helped earn the label its clever, Yankee Stadium-inspired nickname of 'The House That Ruth Built'—to Ray Charles, to The Drifters, to Otis Redding, to Wilson Pickett, and to the Queen of Soul herself, Aretha Franklin; it's all in those first 8 discs.

But those final two Keishi Suzuki-curated CDs are the ones I'm here to write about especially today, because a whole bunch of these total obscurities are, really, absolutely phenomenal.

Like, maybe you're familiar with 60s soul-man Don Covay, who had a solid number of Billboard Hot 100 and R&B chart hits in his career, and also penned Aretha Franklin's own mega hit, "Chain of Fools." But did you know that Covay actually started out under the name of 'Pretty Boy' and performed with a raucous Little Richard-esque rock & roll flair? Suzuki provides "Bip Bop Bip" here, an energetic tune with scratchy, throaty shouts, mashing hi-hats, and an electrifying saxophone solo. And it was actually produced by Little Richard himself!

Then there's Lawrence & The Arabians (what a fucking name, man), a short-lived all-white group, who in 1967 released the outstanding "I'll Try Harder," a fully uptempo and poppy piece of horn-heavy blue-eyed soul that sounds partially cut from some type of Motown cloth. Delightful gem right there.

And lastly, we have Peggy Scott, a pretty well-known southern soul and R&B entity in her own right who managed to make the American top 40 thrice in the late 60s. But after she stopped charting, Scott ended up releasing just one single on Atlantic—through their Atco sublabel—and in 1972, on that single's B-side, she showed that she could still more than hack it with the fantastic "One Night Is All I Need," on which her voice is striking all throughout, but is especially so whenever she goes for that gravelly passion 😌.

And these final two discs in this set have more underappreciated stunners on them too, but we're done here. This is such an excellent release that I shelled out a pretty pretty penny for, and I'm ultimately glad I did, because while the easier-to-find editions of this thing are cheaper and deeply satisfying themselves, nothing beats the thrill of being exposed to underheard gems that not very many other people know about. And in that regard, Keishi Suzuki knocked his task way out of the park.

A magnificent album, both for its extensive chronologizing of one of the most important labels in the history of popular music, as well as its extra 50+ songs that get some much needed light shone upon them too.

Highlights:

CD1:

Ruth Brown - "So Long" Joe Morris - "Anytime, Anyplace, Anywhere" Ruth Brown - "Tear Drops From My Eyes" Joe Turner - "The Chill Is On" Joe Turner - "Sweet Sixteen" Willis Jackson - "Gator's Groove"

CD2:

Ruth Brown - "Mama He Treats Your Daughter Mean" Ruth Brown - "Wild Wild Young Men" Ray Charles - "Mess Around" Joe Turner - "Honey Hush" LaVern Baker - "Soul On Fire" Professor Longhair - "Tipitina" The Drifters - 'White Christmas" The Drifters - "Whatcha Gonna Do" Joe Turner - "Shake, Rattle and Roll" Tommy Ridgley - "Jam Up" Al Hibbler - "After the Lights Go Down Low" Ray Charles - "I Got a Woman" Ray Charles - "Greenbacks"

CD3:

Ray Charles - "A Fool for You" Ray Charles - "This Little Girl of Mine" The Robins - "Smokey Joe's Cafe" The Drifters - "Ruby Baby" The Cookies - "In Paradise" Ray Charles - "Drown In My Own Tears" The Coasters - "Down In Mexico" Ray Charles - "Lonely Avenue" Clyde McPhatter - "Without Love" Chuck Willis - "C.C. Rider"

CD4:

Chuck Willis - "Hang Up My Rock and Roll Shoes" The Coasters - "Yakety Yak" Ray Charles - "Night Time Is the Right Time" The Coasters - "Charlie Brown" Ray Charles - "What'd I Say" The Drifters - "There Goes My Baby" Ray Charles - "Let the Good Times Roll" The Coasters - "Poison Ivy" Ben E. King - "Stand by Me" LaVern Baker - "Saved"

CD5:

The Mar-Keys - "Last Night" The Falcons - "I Found a Love" Ben E. King - "Don't Play That Song (You Lied)" Booker T. & The MG's - "Green Onions" Doris Troy - "Just One Look" Esther Phillips - "Release Me" The Drifters - "Under the Boardwalk"

CD6:

Otis Redding - "I've Been Loving You Too Long" Wilson Pickett - "In the Midnight Hour" Otis Redding - "Respect" Percy Sledge - "When a Man Loves a Woman" Wilson Pickett - "634-5789" Sam & Dave - "Hold On, I'm Coming" The Capitols - "Cool Jerk" Wilson Pickett - "Land of 1000 Dances" Eddie Floyd - "Knock On Wood" Otis Redding - "Try a Little Tenderness" Wilson Pickett - "Mustang Sally" Sam & Dave - "When Something Is Wrong With My Baby" Arthur Conley - "Sweet Soul Music" Aretha Franklin - "I Never Loved a Man the Way I Love You" Aretha Franklin - "Do Right Woman, Do Right Man" Otis & Carla - "Tramp" Wilson Pickett - "Funky Broadway" Booker T. & The MG's - "Hip-Hug-Her" Sam & Dave - "Soul Man"

CD7:

Aretha Franklin - "Respect" Aretha Franklin - "(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman" The Bar-Kays - "Soul Finger" Aretha Franklin - "Baby, I Love You" Aretha Franklin - "Chain of Fools" Wilson Pickett - "I'm in Love" King Curtis - "Memphis Soul Stew" Aretha Franklin - "(Sweet Sweet Baby) Since You've Been Gone" Otis Redding - "(Sittin' On) The Dock of the Bay" Archie Bell & The Drells - "Tighten Up" Clarence Carter - "Slip Away" Aretha Franklin - "Think" Clarence Carter - "Too Weak to Fight" Donny Hathaway - "The Ghetto" Tyrone Davis - "Turn Back the Hands of Time" Les McCann & Eddie Harris - "Compared to What" Aretha Franklin - "Call Me"

CD8:

Aretha Franklin - "Don't Play That Song (You Lied)" King Floyd - "Groove Me" Clarence Carter - "Patches" Wilson Pickett - "Don't Knock My Love" The Beginning of the End - "Funky Nassau (Parts 1 & 2)" Persuaders - "Thin Line Between Love and Hate" Aretha Franklin - "Rock Steady" Aretha Franklin - "Day Dreaming" Roberta Flack & Donny Hathaway - "You've Got a Friend" Betty Wright - "Clean Up Woman" The Spinners - "Could It Be I'm Falling in Love" Roberta Flack - "Killing Me Softly With His Song" Roberta Flack & Donny Hathaway - "Where Is the Love" The Spinners - "I'll Be Around" Roberta Flack - "Feel Like Makin' Love" The Spinners - "One of a Kind (Love Affair)" Blue Magic - "Sideshow" The Spinners - "Mighty Love"

apparently you can have too many hyperlinks in a post...will include the rest in a reblog...

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dxxxth · 8 days

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The days I spent chronicling my encounters on Tumblr for a handful of followers who likely doubted my stories—well, who could blame them? I was a teenage enthusiast of all things paranormal and horror, and that passion has stayed with me to this day. If you catch me out in public, I'll be the one clad entirely in black, regardless of the weather, with a trusty black hoodie and a beanie. My friends have always called me mysterious, and I've navigated much of my life by living day-to-day through various online personas, concealing my true identity. The thought of anyone truly knowing who I am triggers my anxiety, which has often led me to seek refuge indoors.

Much of my adult life has been overshadowed by a persistent battle with depression and anxiety, often seeking solace at the bottom of a bottle to numb the overwhelming symptoms. There have been days when even the simplest tasks felt insurmountable. The origins of my struggles remain elusive—perhaps rooted in childhood trauma or simply the relentless demands of existence, where even financial comfort fails to purchase happiness.

I found myself spending the majority of my time indoors, unsure whether it was my anxiety holding me back or a pervasive sense of not fitting into society's mold. Unusual occurrences became a hallmark of my life, and I devoted countless hours to recounting these eerie experiences, sharing stories that many dismissed as mere campfire tales. But to me, they were undeniably real, etching themselves into the fabric of my existence.

True companions were scarce in my everyday life; most of my connections were forged online, often with an older crowd. I vividly recall the days of playing Call of Duty 4 as a young teenager, enduring jests from grown men about being a middle-aged recluse in my mother's basement. Life seemed simpler back then. However, as I matured, life hurled increasingly complex challenges my way—far beyond the typical burdens of a seventeen-year-old.

It was around seventeen that my skepticism gave way to a sober acknowledgment that something peculiar was unfolding around me. I'd find items missing or my chair mysteriously relocated overnight. I vividly recall overhearing my parents argue about misplaced keys, a blame game I found myself unwittingly embroiled in—until the day the keys were inexplicably found on the floor in my absence. From that day onward, the topic was never broached again, almost as if my parents had finally acknowledged what I had long suspected.

One fateful movie night, I convinced my mother to indulge in a horror film—The Exorcist, if memory serves me right. Mind you, my mother had neither seen the movie nor expressed any inclination toward such films. As we settled in for the frightful experience, the atmosphere grew tense, and I found myself hoping I wouldn't be plagued by nightmares later. Just as the movie began to hit its stride, the screen inexplicably paused. My cousin and I turned in astonishment to see my mother clutching the remote, her first words tinged with alarm: "Do you smell something burning?" The subsequent moments played out like a scene from the movie itself, as we hastily checked the stove burners—already switched off. Despite our inability to detect any odor, the tension in the air was palpable.

Our unease only intensified when, mere minutes later, the movie depicted a character waking at 3 a.m. to the unmistakable scent of something burning. My cousin and I exchanged anxious glances, convinced that my mother had surreptitiously seen the movie before. To our bewilderment, she vehemently denied it, requesting that we switch to a comedy instead. To this day, that incident remains etched in my mother's memory, forever dissuading her from indulging in scary movies.

As I turned eighteen, the burden of my parents' discord and the enigmatic occurrences within our home became too much to bear. I sought refuge with my cousins, abandoning the oppressive atmosphere that had suffused my childhood. While the new environment seemed devoid of any overtly bizarre happenings, my fascination with the unknown persisted.

During this period, I lacked a conventional job but found fulfillment in creating content for YouTube—a burgeoning platform where I shared my stories, gaining a modest yet dedicated audience. The platform's evolution, marked by the integration of advertisements and growing mainstream appeal, facilitated my engagement with a receptive audience hungry for tales of the supernatural.

However, the precarious tranquility of my new living arrangement was shattered one fateful evening when I found myself home alone, recording a video. A persistent knocking reverberated through the house, igniting a growing sense of dread within me. The unsettling cacophony reached a crescendo with what sounded like hurried footsteps ascending the staircase. Gripped by fear, I yanked off my headphones, straining to discern any subsequent sound, only to be met by an ominous silence.

The unsettling episode culminated with the unmistakable sound of an object hitting the floor. I cautiously rose from my seat, heart pounding, and ventured out into the hallway, where my gaze alighted upon an unfamiliar object—a Hobo nickel—resting on the ground. Bewildered and unnerved, I scoured the internet in vain for answers, grappling with the unsettling realization that whatever had haunted my parents' home had now followed me.

Terrified at the prospect of encountering an intruder or confronting an otherworldly presence, I retreated to the safety of my room, wrestling with unanswerable questions. How had the coin materialized in my hallway? What—or who—had ascended the staircase in such haste? Was I in the throes of a shared hallucination, or was a sinister force at play?

As I continue to navigate the enigmatic realm of the paranormal, my experiences have become an indelible part of my identity. I chronicle my encounters not merely as entertainment but as a testament to the inexplicable forces that shape our existence. Through my online endeavors, whether on Tumblr or other platforms, I strive to connect with fellow seekers of the supernatural, offering solace and camaraderie in a world often defined by skepticism.

In retracing the tumultuous trajectory of my life, I've come to view my affinity for the paranormal not merely as a curiosity but as a coping mechanism—an enduring source of strength and resilience. As I embark on this perpetual quest for understanding, I find myself donning the cloak of mystery not to conceal but to illuminate—the ineffable truths that lie just beyond the veil of perception.

#my story #ghost #book blog #alternative

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latibvles · 1 year

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SAD, BEAUTIFUL, TRAGIC.

beautiful, tragic // onward, beside you.

as the world comes to an end, i'll be here to hold your hand.

masterlist | gallery | taglist

TAGLIST: @liebgotts-lovergirl , @softguarnere , @brassknucklespeirs , @monalisastwin , @mads-weasley , @eugene-emt-roe

SUMMARY: Morning comes and Easy Company moves out — but Mourmelon will have to wait after all.

WARNINGS: none

NOTES: temporarily, SBT updates are going to be limited to just Sundays. This is mostly because I have a heavy workload this semester, so I'm giving myself more leeway and time to get things done with this story and my other projects. thank you for understanding!!

He’s pretty in the morning.

Sleep relaxes the muscles of his face in a way that makes him look way younger — the straight-laced accountant of nearly three years ago, untouched by war, no matter what the slowly growing beard and dark circles might suggest.

Light leaks in through the one window in the room — pale and white from the snow outside. It’s quiet too, and she can hear the gentle puffs of breath coming from him that she doesn’t want to disrupt at all, so she says nothing of it. What she does do is drink in the sight before her — the softer lines of him, his lashes and the upturn to his nose. Pretty.

“You’re staring.” His voice cuts through the quiet, thick and rough with sleep as he barely opens one eye.

“I can look away if you’re shy. Cover my eyes, maybe.” With his lips curling into a grin, his arm wrapping around her a little tighter, she hears the low rumble of a chuckle vibrate through his chest.

“Mm. Full of ideas, aren’t you?” He muses with a hefty sigh.

“What can I say? I’m pretty smart.” Opening his eyes further, the grin turns into a smirk of sorts.

“I just said ideas, not good ideas.” Daisy rolls her eyes at the remark, his fingers going to twirl one of the few strands of hair that isn’t a tangled mess around his fingers.

“Pot calling the kettle black,” She murmurs, and he raises a brow, curious. “Even if I didn’t see you run through the German line, it’s all the men have been talking about since Foy. I just didn’t blow my lid ‘cause I had a job to do at the time,” Ron nods, slowly, like he’s trying to recount what he did, like he doesn’t remember — she doesn’t push it further than that, propping herself up to kiss his nose. “The men are gonna be looking for you.”

Ron unwraps from around her, sitting up with a quiet heave.

“Sick of me already?” He goes to stroke her cheek and she smiles, rolling her eyes.

“If I was anymore selfish I’d keep you here all day and have you to myself,” She leans in, kissing him briefly and she watches him break out into another grin. “Unfortunately one of us has to be the sensible one, and I think the sister who sleeps here is going to want her bed back.”

She lets her fingers once again trail over the planes of his face, his lips, eyes falling on the bruises on his collarbone and her face flushes as she goes to button his shirt. There are probably similar spots on her hips that she just hasn’t seen yet. Still, Daisy doesn’t miss how his grin once again turns into a smirk, which is a bit more flustering the morning after. She opens her mouth to speak again when there’s a sharp knock at the door, and Daisy snaps her head to it.

“You up, Clarke?” It’s Lip’s muffled voice through the door. Daisy clears her throat, straightening up as though Lip could see through the door.

“I… I am now. Did you need something?” There’s nowhere for Ron to hide that would be out of view of the Sergeant, and so she’s entirely banking on Lipton’s respect for her privacy.

“No I was just… making sure. If you see Lieutenant Speirs on your way out, would you tell him Captain Winters is looking for him?” Daisy looks at Ron, who looks wholly entertained at their current predicament. She rolls her eyes.

“Yeah Lip, you got it,” She waits for the sound of retreating footsteps, before reaching back to promptly swat at him. “This is the part where I kick you out, Lieutenant.” Ron doesn’t do anything to mask his snickering as he stands up, pulling on his jacket and his scarf, snapping the webbing into its place.

Daisy rises shortly after that, makes her way to the door, and pokes her head out to ensure the hallway is clear before looking back to him. He pokes his head out quickly, then turns to her.

The kiss he gives her is long, but soft, tilting her chin to meet him. The kind that’s sure to leave her breathless and thoroughly flustered. He pulls away and looks her up and down once.

“See you in a minute.” He mutters.

“If you don’t get out of here I might actually keep you in that bed all day.” Ron grins at that, but pulls himself away, walking down the hall and leaving Daisy leaning against the doorway with flushed cheeks and a contained smile.

Hageneu is no Mourmelon.

Hageneu is… gray, doubly so with the men’s despondent morale and Lipton’s hacking still loud in her ears despite herself and Eugene branching off from the others to poke around the bombed out buildings. It’s still cold, the ground is wet from the melted snow, and just across the river there are Germans waiting patiently to strike at any time. As she and Eugene approach the bombed out ghost of an old storefront, they exchange bewildered looks.

As selfish as it might be, she really can’t wait to slink back into the slightly-warmer CP.

“Find anything over there, Gene?” she calls to the man searching behind the counter as she combs through the shelves. There are discarded cans and tins, some burst or otherwise open. Others are still shut, but she finds a blue container and while she doesn’t speak French, she recognizes the tea leaf design on the label and immediately snatches it, turning to show off her find. “Think First Sergeant Lipton could use this.”

Gene pokes his head up from the counter in a way that reminds her a little bit of a rabbit, before nodding his head.

“Got uh… couple’a bandages, they cleaned out here pretty quick.” Daisy looks at the spots where there are marks in the dust, freshly looted material, and she can’t help but roll her eyes, half-annoyed and half-fond.

“You’re all terrible.”

“I haven’t done anything.” Gene refutes as he rounds the counter.

“Really? So if I write Vera right now and ask if she’s gotten any new silver candleholders or forks and spoons she’s gonna call me crazy?” Eugene just smiles and shrugs, which is all the confirmation she needs. “Like I said, you’re all terrible.” They walk out of the store front.

“Gonna make a stop at OP three. I didn’t like how McClung’s cough was sounding.” Eugene informs and Daisy nods, watching him break off as she continues her hurried walk to Company CP.

She’d been lucky not to be on the business end of a sniper, or be blown up by a mortar, and she isn’t trying to test that luck.

The ride to Hageneu had been quick in comparison to the ride into Bastogne — although similar in that they were packed like sardines in that deuce-and-a-half. She would’ve felt a little bad, leaning on Lipton and dozing off, if he hadn’t all but passed out on the hours-long ride too.

Familiar and yet different, it made her heart ache.

Daisy steps into the CP, into a tentative sort of quiet, met with the back of a dark-haired man’s head, a boyish looking Lieutenant sitting on one of the couches, and most importantly, Sergeant Lipton half laid out on the couch with a blanket over him and a report in hand. Daisy huffs, and points an accusatory finger at him.

“You are impossible, y’know that?” She scolds, and the man with his back to her jumps before turning his head. Webster, from Holland — Rita complained about him a couple times and how he talked too much. “Y’know when three medics order you on bed rest that means rest. In a bed. Like the ones in the back with the actual sheets.”

Lipton opens his mouth to say something but it’s caught in another hefty cough. Daisy sighs, reaching down to pat his back for a moment until the fit passes.

“Lieutenant Clarke this is… Lieutenant Jones,” Lipton gestures and Daisy finally looks over to the one on the couch. “Lieutenant Jones, this is our combat nurse.” George doesn’t throw in one of his playful warnings, and Webster just stares at her. She gives Jones a curt nod, but little more than that, then looks back at Lipton. He looks less like a Sergeant and more like a kicked puppy, holding his canteen full of coffee between frigid fingers.

“You need to go lie down, in a spot where your legs actually fit—”

“Captain Speirs, sir, this is Lieutenant Jones,” she knows it’s half to stop her second reprimand and partially to do his job, but she hears Ron’s grunt behind her and knows he isn’t out of it yet.

“Listen, for Christ’s sake would you go in the back and sack out!? There’s beds back there with fresh sheets.” Daisy looks back at Ron, who’s got his fingers curled around a trophy. He catches her gaze and they stare at each other for a moment in acknowledgment before he reverts his attention. Lipton sighs, squinting, like it’s too bright out for his bleary eyes.

“I will, sir, just wanted to make myself useful, sir.”

“Listen up.” All the men in the room snap to attention, sans Lipton, as Dick and Nixon walk into the room next.

There’s a patrol tonight, fifteen men for Ron to pick and judging by his face the gears are slowly but certainly turning. He’s tired. They all are. It’s just rare to see it on his face as he nods and affirms Dick’s orders, making his way across the room while Lipton cranes his neck and sips his coffee. Dick, briefly, shifts his attention to her.

“Clarke, how are the medics on supplies?” She rises to her feet, dusting off her pants.

“We’re fine on bandages and… basic stuff. More couldn’t hurt. And penicillin would be useful, for Sergeant Lipton’s pneumonia. I think a flu might be going around. A few men in third platoon aren’t feeling too well and Roe’s looking over them.” Dick nods at that.

“We’ll get a jeep for you tomorrow and head to the field hospital further in town. That sound good?”

“Yes, sir.”

And she watches for a few, slightly embarrassing moments as Lieutenant Jones volunteers himself for the patrol, and Dick all but avoids his question, before excusing herself to get Lipton some hot water from the cookhouse. She doesn’t miss how Jones asks again moments later, as she’s leaving, and hears Ron’s gruff and firm denial.

Keeping herself busy isn’t especially hard — she returns when Lip’s finished his coffee and helps him to his feet, just to bring him to the back where he and Ron were bunked and make him lay down again while she takes the hot water and the scavenged tea, offering it to him with a gentler smile (accompanied by another threat of dragging him back to bed kicking and screaming, if she has to). He all but passes out as afternoon creeps in, and she takes that opportunity to snatch a room in this bombed out house for herself.

Inside is warmer than outside, even if the difference isn’t by a lot. Upstairs there’s a room closest to the stairwell that looks wholly unoccupied, with a bed with sheets too, which is always a nice commodity.

Daisy has such little on her person, but even shedding the fraying scarf and placing it on the bed gives her a sense of ownership she’s missed, in some respect.

She takes a look in the mirror — it’s cracked a little, spindly lines spiderwebbing across the surface but she can still make out her own slightly jagged reflection. Daisy shudders at the sight, her skin taking on a slightly-yellow hue from the cold, her face notably thinner and her hair a tangled mess. From her neck hangs the cross she’d been sent (which still didn’t feel right) and on top of it, Laura’s coin (which brought with it both an ache and an inexplicable comfort).

There’s a knock on the doorframe and she snaps her attention to it.

Ron leans against the doorway, looking her up and down for a moment.

“They’ve got showers. Waited for the men to clear out to tell you,” She nods, her gaze reverting back to her own reflection in the mirror, scrunching her nose at the sight. “You alright?” She makes a vague gesture to her tangled braid.

“I’ve gotta comb this out first. Probably gonna hurt like a bitch.”

“You need help?”

“You don’t have somewhere to be?” He walks in fully, and shuts the door behind him, leaning against it.

“Captain Nixon’s getting the boats, I’ve got a meeting in an hour with the patrol group and Captain Winters,” he makes his way over to her. “Plus I’m keeping an eye on the showers. Make sure no one tries anything.”

“Ah, guard duty then?” He exhales sharply through the noise, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly with the smile he’s trying to fight against.

“Yeah, sure, we’ll call it guard duty.” It probably wouldn’t be as necessary if the other nurses were with her, but given she’s the only one here — she can’t exactly blame them for the precaution.

She fishes through her bag for the comb (admittedly one of her own trinkets that she fished from Noville), and holds it out to him. He takes it and she goes to sit on the bed, with him on his knees behind her.

When they were children, she used to sit on the ottoman in their living room, her mother running a comb through her hair while Ron and James laid sprawled out on the floor playing with jacks and marbles and wrinkling their Sunday best, much to their mothers’ detriment every single Easter. They’d make her giggle with their competitiveness and in turn her mother would scold her from moving her head too much. The middle-part to her braids always ended up slightly eschew, and James always won marbles, because Mrs. Speirs would make Ron stand up so she could lint-roll his shirt one last time.

The thought makes her smile, even when the comb snags on knots and tangles that make her wince otherwise.

“What’re you thinking about?” Ron asks, and her smile immediately turns teasing, glancing up towards the shattered mirror to look him in the eye as best she can.

“You losing at scatter jacks.” He rolls his eyes, running the comb from the crown of her head to a bit past her shoulder blade.

“Keep being so nice to me and someone might think you have a thing for me.”

“Perish the thought, Ronald,” He responds with a very light tap to the side of her head with the comb, and she snickers in response as she takes it from him, standing up and staring at herself a moment longer. She could braid it later, after showering. “I’ll be with Lip tonight, see if his symptoms get any worse in the night. And you’ll be…” He rises, letting his fingers graze her neck for a moment.

“On the line, waiting for the patrol to get back.” She nods, reaching up to grab the hand ghosting over her neck and shoulder, bringing it towards her and pressing a kiss to the cracked knuckles. Ron’s eyebrows raise and she smiles a bit.

“Try to squeeze in some sleep, if you can. You look tired.”

“Pot calling the kettle black.”

It’s her turn to roll her eyes, lacing their fingers for a moment to squeeze his hand.

“Whatever you say, Captain Speirs. Now come play guard so I can shower in peace.” Daisy doesn’t miss the way his lip seems to curl at the use of his title, but she lets go of his hand and makes her way out the door, suppressing her grin as she hears Ron’s slightly more quickened footsteps behind her.

#fic // sad beautiful tragic #ronald speirs x oc #ronald speirs x ofc #band of brothers oc #band of brothers fic #hbo war fic #hbo war oc #hbo war ofc

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bromineiscandy · 2 months

Text

[Video Attachment:

The video is far more stable than when Null's filming, and shows a conversation between two kindred.

Null is sitting at a table across from a tall, lanky person, freshly dressed in a fine suit and cape, though it seems far out-of-date in terms of fashion, better suited to the 1600's. They're almost gaunt, their skin nearly a dark gray, tinged with brown. They have abandoned a more human appearance in favor of two sets of eyes that reflect a bright green in the light, their nose gone entirely apart from a slight ridge and the slitted nostrils, and chitinous growths along their upper lip that appear as a second pair of fangs. They smile at Null as the two converse, idly toying with a spider that crawls along their spindly fingers.

A loc shifts to fall behind them as they turn their head to the camera, likewise catching Null's attention who straightens up just a bit to address the audience.

"Aha! There we are. Hello dear listeners! It is a pleasure to introduce an old friend, whom you may address as Aldous! We unearthed them not but a handful of hours ago! Ha!"

Aldous settles their spindly hand against their chest as a sign of gratitude towards Null, and gives a slight flourish of a half-bow to the camera before slipping their arm beneath their cloak to be hidden.

Their voice is almost hollow, dusty, deeper than Null's, with an almost rhythmic cadence, "Hail, unseen comrades of Null. I trust the night bestows upon thee the same bounties it hath graciously bestowed upon me."

They turn their smile to Null again as a very determined spider begins creating a web along the collar of their cloak.

"Doth thy specter conjure one of those moving images thou hast recounted? How thrilling, my dearest comrade."

"Ha! Yes, Ripper is quite adept with handling these modern machineries. I do so enjoy the things they show me. Ah yes, I'll have to show you this webbed sight they call a YouTube."

The taller of the two looms over the table with interest as Null takes out a rather well-protected phone, presumably to show off videos before the recording cuts.]

#video logs

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karlrose · 6 months

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I've been working really hard to write the second chapter to the thing I started writing and I was hoping to have Chapter 2 done by the 30th. That is not happening because I'm, at best, halfway through and stuck in a Ladynoir scene I'm struggling to finish. I didn't realize how hard writing them would be for me until I had to do it. Ladynoir, in my opinion, is the most complex corner of the love square and I overthink every interaction they have. My husband read what I have so far and said that I get poetic and metaphysical when I write Ladynoir, making it harder to keep the scene moving fluidly. And then the special melted the rest of my brain so... Here's a preview of what I have finished so far

-Chapter 2- PREVIEW

Adrien was floating on air as he left the bakery, a bag of chouquettes in one arm and a baguette nestled in the crook of his other arm. Part of him couldn't believe it had gone so well and was convinced that he must have dreamed it.

He stopped walking as the thought settled in his mind like a sinking ship... then spun on his heel and started back towards the bakery.

“Kid,” Plagg flew out of his pocket to rest on his shoulder. “Where ya going?”

“I have to go back.”

Plagg sighed out of exasperation and annoyance, “You already asked her.”

Adrien stopped walking again. “And she-”

“She said yes,” Plagg responded with a whine. “Can we go home now? I want time to digest my food before you run off to see Ladybug.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” he sighed in relief as he spun back around to head towards his home. “Because I thought I might have-”

“Blacked out, made up an entire conversation in your head, and left... like a crazy person?” Adrien glared at Plagg who retorted with, “Yeah, you've been known to do that.”

“What would I do without your overwhelming understanding, sensitivity and tact?” he laughed, giving the top of Plagg's head a little scratch.

“Well, you'd make a fool out of yourself way more often. I know that!”

“Thanks, Plagg. You're the best,” he genuinely meant the words, but delivered them with sarcasm, the way Plagg would prefer the exchange of emotions he deemed 'sappy'.

He was an interesting and complex being of pure, concentrated destruction.

“And we have plenty of time for you to eat before patrol. It's only...” Adrien pulled his phone out of his pocket to glance at the screen. “... a bit later than I thought... and I have a missed call, but still... plenty of time.” He pushed the call back button and waited as it rang out the other end.

“Hello, Sunshine,” Luka's voice rang out from the receiver. “How's Marinette?”

“How did you know-”

“It's a Sunday afternoon, you weren't home, and you're a creature of habit,” he recounted casually with a pleasant laugh. “So, how is she?”

“I can hear you laughing,” Adrien started with mock annoyance. “What did Felix say to you?”

“He said I would find you drowning down by the Seine,” Luka answered, letting the giggles out freely now.

“I'll have you know that I am an excellent swimmer,” he retorted with confidence. “And I am in no way drowning. Because of my incredible swimming capabilities.”

“Uh-huh,” he could hear the smile in his voice. “It sounds like you're drowning now, pretty boy.”

“Why don't you say that to my pretty face, music man?” he challenged, a lopsided smirk spreading across his face. It was replaced with a look of confusion when the dial tone met his ear. Plagg burst out laughing in his other ear as he held his phone in front of him, staring in disbelief at the screen.

Then a very familiar bike bell rang behind him, causing him to jump and release a noise somewhere between a scream and a squeal as he whipped around to face him, scrambling to keep hold of his bags of baked goods.

Luka leaned on the handlebars, a knowing smirk curling his lip as he held Adrien's eyes in his own. Luka had a thing for eye contact and the intensity of his stare almost seemed to demand it of him. Everything about Luka was a contradictory blend of intensity and tranquility.

He realized that he had once again been captivated when Luka started to giggle at him and stated with more than a little sass, “You're drowning, pretty boy.”

He sputtered, grasping for sounds that might string together to form words as he felt the bridge of his nose turn pink. Failing to speak, he pouted indignantly, turning his head to avoid being captured in his gaze again.

“Can't handle someone sneaking up on you, huh, big cat?”

“Well, no one's ever prepared for a snake in the grass, are they?”

“Spicy,” Luka quipped, pulling his bike forward, offering the bike basket for his bags. “Need a ride?”

“You'd like that, wouldn't you?” Adrien returned with his own sass, leaning himself under his face.

Luka caught his eyes in his own again and leaned down until, close enough to feel their breath mix, he whispered, “You're going to be late.”

“I remember when you were fun,” Adrien glared at him with a pout before closing the distance between them with a quick peck, placing his shopping in the basket, and sitting on the bike. “And I have plenty of time.”

“You had plenty of time,” Luka stated as he began to pedal the bike. “Now, by the time we get to the Liberty and Plagg finishes his meal, you'll be about five minutes late.”

“I'm not late until m'lady calls and asks why I'm not there yet,” he responded. “So I'll actually have ten minutes to spare.”

“I remember when you took your job seriously,” Luka said with a smirk, glancing back at him. “Honestly, I'm kind of disappointed in you.”

“Don't you come for me, blue jay,” Adrien shot back playfully. “I've got your number, too.”

“Are you ever going to answer my question?” he asked with a voice laced with mirth.

“Um... I missed it,” Adrien admitted with some embarrassment. “What was the question?”

“How is Marinette?” Luka enunciated to be sure he wouldn't miss the question a third time.

He felt him lean his face into his back and take a deep breath before speaking, “She's good. Working herself into an early grave while pretending she has plenty of free time, as usual.” He lifted his head to continue with a livelier tone, “But that all changes soon. She agreed to move in with me. Now Felix can work into an early grave which, while also sad, I'm less upset about.”

“Congratulations,” he praised genuinely before following up with a jovial tone, “How'd you manage to get that to happen?”

“With your amazing advice; Open and honest communication,” Adrien said with pride before Plagg laughed hard at his statement. “Ignore the demon in my pocket. He thrives on chaos and lives to destroy my ego.”

“Well, someone has to chip away at that monstrosity,” Luka responded with a lighthearted chuckle. “It's starting to get in the way of your sparkling personality.”

“You're extra snarky today.”

“I'm simply returning the energy you're giving me, sunshine.”

“I'm gonna tell Marinette you were mean to me,” Adrien whined, placing his chin on his shoulder to be sure he'd hear him over the wind rushing past them. “She'll be so disappointed. She thought you were so nice. She was deceived by the kindness in your eyes, unaware that under that facade lives a venomous serpent. She deserves to know the truth.”

“Well, we can't leave the princess in the dark, can we?” Luka responded teasingly. “For the sake of honesty, I should tell her that you're a vindictive drama queen and an incorrigible flirt.”

“She is already very aware of both of those things,” he stated as a matter of fact. “You're losing your edge, snakebite.”

“Get off my bike before I bite you, kit-cat.”

“Really?” Adrien asked with a drawl. He couldn't see it, but Luka could tell by the lilt of his tone that he had a Chat smile stretched across his face.

“No, Adrien. We're here,” he said with an eye roll as he stopped the bike and gestured towards the water where the Liberty floated. “Now get off my bike, feed your pocket demon, and get to work before you orchestrate more distractions for yourself.”

He stuck his tongue out at him, hopped off the bike, and ran down the dock onto the ship to toast some cheese on baguette slices for Plagg while Luka carried the bike in behind him, humming a tune as he went.

Everything was so easy with Luka. He didn't have to pretend to be something he wasn't or lie about half of who he was.

Where Marinette was exciting, managing to constantly surprise him with how amazing she was, Luka represented safety and security, being someone he could confide in without fear.

When he had started noticing feelings for him, he had felt horrible about it, seeing it as a betrayal of Marinette, but when he talked to her about it, she repeated the words he had once heard from her mother, that he should never apologize for his feelings, and then she asked him two questions; Did his feelings for Luka change his feelings for her and did he promise to always be honest with her about his feelings. Since the answer to the first question was no and the answer to the second was yes, she said there was no problem, that it would only be cheating if he lied about it or tried to hide it. Then she went on a bit of a speech about love and it's complexities and lack of limits. It was actually really cute and reassuring until she confided in him her feelings for Chat Noir. That was when things got awkward, mostly because he had just promised to be honest about his feelings to her and now had to pretend that this information was news to him.

Sometimes being a superhero sucked. Most of the time, it was absolutely amazing, but when it came to talking about Chat Noir with Marinette, it sucked.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfiction #ladynoir #miraculous fanfic #lukadrien #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #miraculous #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #miraculoustalesofladybugandchatnoir #mlb fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #Vellus Aureum #polyamory

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istherewifiinhell · 2 years

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Five song otp play list, tagged by @palms-upturned (last week lol) tagging @joelleity @deadgrantaires@paradoxgavel and anyone else whod wants to!

My brain is a bit too soup to make a playlist, right now, and I don't have any OTPS one in the can (If i were to do one it would be dokhyuk and it would consist entirely of garages songs tho). So im just gonna grab the what i think are the strongest 5 songs from my wip HDB playlist.

Someone's Yearning feat: Jock Scott (Live at The Barbican

This isn't technically a sea power song so... So there. Also. Are there no lyrics available for it anywhere? Have to do everything myself (i guess hmu if u want the full lyrics ive. just typed up for this?)

Now, once more I'm on my own again / Conceding(?) romantic bufoon / The dishes pile up in the sink / I must tide up my room / As I ignore time, the damn stuff runs out / Just as well there's no one else about

If anyone calls I say uh "I'm fine" / Relieved that there are no witnesses to my sad decline / I may regroup and try again in a year or 2

The Fly, Cosmo Sheldrake

the. the whole lyrics of the song but... (Which. im learning just now is also a poem to music...)

Little fly, thy summer's play / My thoughtless hand has brushed away / Am I not a fly like thee? / Or art thou not a man like me?

For I dance and drink and sing / Till some blind hand shall brush my wing / If thought is life and strength and breath / And the want of thought is death

Then I am a happy fly / If I live or if I die

Grounds for Divorce, Elbow.

This broke my all bandcamp link streak... anyway GUITAR.

There'll be twisted karaoke at the Aniseed Lounge / And I'd bring you further roses but it does you no good / And it does me no good / And it does you no good

There's a hole in my neighborhood / Down which of late I cannot help but fall

Aquamarine, O'o

Not. Ostentatious Orchestrations. but still. (again this is like the whole song but... cmon.)

Pain is creeping, seeping / Words are sleeping, weeping / Through her liquid thoughts / Bubbling shaming noughts / And nullifying crosses / Can only count her losses / Alone, well out of earshot / Recounting the unwritten plot / Re-enacting the lovey-dovey dove / And her useless drowning love / Sudden springs of spite swelled up / Soon waves of rage welled up / Now helpless / She soaks in pain, in vain, and sinks x4

Brain drain x4

The washed up by a tidal bore / Waking up on a lonely shore of rippling sand / Hangover, hangover (hung, hung, hungover) x2

Dirty Imbecile The Happy Fits

Sure they messed me up but that is / Voices that they left inside of my head / Darling, dearest, don't you see / I'm tough, I'm smart, I'm bourgeoisie? / And I'll play out this lie until we're all dead

Count my little scars, I've got dozens down inside (Am I good? Is all I could) / I come complete and invincible behind my dirty imbecile (enough for you?) / All these things I've tried, boy (I'm so scared of) / Be cute, be dumb, be wise, be young (when and where I'll find the truth) / So don't tell me what to fear in the darkness of this atmosphere

#some shit #i need a music tag. oh god okay.#sad.fm #my brain is made of goo and my toe of. bad.#have been meaning to do this every day i wasnt working since u tagged me sorry lol. and for breaking the. prompt but #i imagine these in hdb life chronological order of. dirty imbecile. someones yearning. aquamarine. grounds for divorce. the fly. btw.

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charlesdesvoeux · 2 months

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terror rewatch time!!! i'll be using this post to comment on ep. 8 "terror camp clear" block the tag terrorwatch2 if you'd like :-)

fitzier drinking out of the same canteen. closest they've come to kissing (so far)

id forgotten jfj calls francis "brother" first, as he starts to recount his family story. also how crozier counters him saying he's a fake by saying that biographers could tally up his acts of valor.... but it's not about that, it's not about the Official History, it's not about the things the great men write in the memoirs- it's about the truth, and the memoirs written by men like john ross are about performance and conforming to certain expectations, not about Truth. They're about spinning a narrative. James has been spinning a narrative about himself his entire adult life, and as he lies agonizing in the edge of life, in the edge of "civilization", he's tired of lies.

"james fitzjames. like a bad pun" I love you forever.

obviously they're suffering. like. a lot. but if they hadn't reached that distance from "civilization" perhaps jfj would never have confronted himself with the truth of his shame and vanity. we need all these trappings of "respectable" society to be washed away before we can reach a fundamental truth about ourselves. you know. "we have reached the end of vanity" "then you are free"

"irving and farr's bodies were put through something I can't even find English words for" so of course- the evil savages must be blamed. but no, lieutenant hodgson- this was a crime done by English hands.

hickey SPINNING A WHOLE YARN which he used to commit an act of unspeakable cruelty towards the inuit family...... man you should've been an actor. also the clear anger on his face when jopson interrupts him and the way he TRIES TO SPIN THE CAPTAIN'S SUMMONING as something he was already gonna do anyway..... you're so fucking terrible.

"they're going to build a proper perimeter with or without us" poor ned being caught between a rock and a hard place. "they ARE us edward" no they're not..... they've never been.... you've never acted like they were.... and sergeant tozer needs to keep his men safe....

bridglar :-(((( clinging desperately to the idea that each will be fine....

the scene with the netsilik party is so heartbreaking. nive nielsen is outstanding.

des voeux you are such an insane despicable little shithead. also easily my favorite terror tertiary character. transparent fucking liar.

sol's smile bc its just such a blatant lie and then "damn it all". yes sol you just did.

hodgson being like "well maybe I fucked it up. maybe I just helped to kill a bunch of innocent people" i mean yes hodge you did. also "all we have are our instincts and training" is imo a line that tells us a lot about ned. and then he relays the story about like his relative and the supposed attack by the "savage" comanche as a way to reassure himself.

and poor ned. they're already armed, they're not gonna fucking relinquish their weapons. all he can do is kinda sign off on it to preserve some sense of order- a SENSE of order, but no, not actual order- that was long gone.

when collins is high walking through the camp he reaches out to hug another guy.... I feel like he's so desperate for a chance to connect with another human being, to feel fully human again :-(

goodsir and silna.... goodsir desperately clinging the idea that this isn't who they are, this isn't what they are.....

billy is already looking half fucking dead here. "you'll have the entire rest of your long lives...." but I mean. do we think at this point billy was already aware that he wasn't long for this world? like. his symptoms were only really REALLY bad later but he was clearly already sick. and they hadn't planned on taking goodsir afaik. or were they already sure they'd kidnap him?

godddd hodge and little during irving's autopsy. and I must once again advance my idea that there's a parallel between "worst kind of sorry" and "worst kind of second"

"put one of the mates in charge of the armory" and jfj instantly going "des voeux" like. there was some trust there!!!! and oh boy it was entirely unearned. I mean. maybe not entirely but at that point charles was NOT IT.

HICKEY JUST LYING THERE WITH HIS HAND ALMOST REACHING INTO HIS PRICK AND HIS ARM CUSHIONING HIS HEAD LIKE HES SOME KIND OF PLAYBOY COVER GIRL. BEATIFIC SMILE AND FUCKY EYES. SORRY HE JUST SERVES TOO MUCH CUNT.

"He would have burned through you like fuel, lied to you and used you to your last muscle" and well. turns out crozier was right.

the expression on sol's face when they realize actually hickey killed irving. very interesting. but it's kind of a sunken cost fallacy right??? he's already invested too much on this damn mutiny to back off now. and besides- if he stays there, he'll be executed. so yeah this guy you trusted just killed two other guys in cold blood but you can't back out now so.

E.C'S SHITTY LITTLE IRISH ACCENT OH MY GOD. HE SAID I NEED TO SERVE CUNT IN MY EXECUTION AND HE DID.

"edward, that's your name, isn't it? edward" aaaaaaa this is so cool and so important. ranks don't matter anything now. not a goddamn thing. also tommy saving his love ❤️

the look of terror on sol's face as he watches collins' soul be consumed by tuunbaq. DAVID WALMSLEY THE ACTOR THAT YOU ARE

#terrorwatch2

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yzxsn · 1 year

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070223

| so we meet again.

approximately a year past dropping out of gifudai. an almost completed library of games. sena had found herself being busy one moment, and then not the next. a part of her questioned if she was doing the right thing, or otherwise. surely, it must've been, because it felt a little relieving seperating herself from kodaka. less stifling to have seen him ignore her, time and time again.

though she herself was superhuman, she found herself still too big for the pond that her prefecture had trapped her in.

at stella's behest, they would travel over to tokyo-u to apply for the admissions process. sena would admit she didn't take well to the suggestion at first, until the topic of visiting yozora came up. then, slowly, she warmed up to it.

(stella would recount how, upon first entering the neighbours club, yozora was all the young mistress could concievably think about. obsessed with her first friend then, yes, so the opportunity presenting itself now was worth more than any guy, any heartbreak that life would serve her way.)

it must've been some time before christmas that sena arrived in tokyo. she'd been there before, of course -- back a year ago when life at gifudai still seemed to be fine. but unlike the last, she decided not to crash at yozora's place first.

for some reason, this meeting felt a little more significant, the more sena reviewed her plans in the desolate and lone rented apartment. if she'd succeeded, this meant joining her best friend for years to come in the heart of japan -- because she knew that yozora wouldn't allow romance to come between herself and her dreams, if she was still chasing kodaka. and, considering how between the two, sena had the better odds and failed, what good would the would-be master of the house be against a dense man like that?

sena took a deep breath, examining the messages on her phone. laid in bed, salt aside. she wanted to consider where she should surprise yozora on a visit.

so it was on her birthday that yozora was asked to come out to the city. on her birthday that, by nature, yozora hadn't made plans for, because she hadn't considered it to be an important occasion. sena would be lying if she'd said she'd known and accounted for it -- in truth, the girl was nervous about the possibility of being replaced. it had happened once with her old crush, it could happen again.

it didn't, when yozora showed up alone. somewhere in shibuya, sena had caught her friend entirely by surprise with a hug attack from behind, and a high-pitched laughter, causing a brief scene in the middle of the crowd.

"haha, got you~!"

"h-hey!! you imbecile, don't do that!"

dragged into an izakaya nearby, both red in the face from laughter, anger and the cold, the duo had placed their orders for a light meal. and the gift that sena slid over the table in their booth was a reminder of their friendship, and a promise of the future that kept yozora feeling on her toes.

see, alcohol was a kashiwazaki family tradition, according to her father. and over the years, sena wasn't certain if yozora had been out drinking yet, though the uncertain look in the birthday girl's eyes as she examined her gift had spelled out an obvious 'no' to the gifter. that was fine.

"you can keep it for important guests that visit your place next time then," sena reasoned, waving a hand, as though to ward off the uneasiness of having a gift poorly received after the decent presents in the past. but yozora shook her head, with a hint of conviction in the force she used to close the box's lid.

"no, i'll… have some. not here, but tonight, when i get back. i'll need to do so some day, anyway… for social gatherings."

the alcohol had been a hibiki, a suggestion from stella as she was sending sena off at the train station. its bright orange hues were almost a call to action, effective to yozora, as she thumbed the cloth cover of the gift box in hesitation.

when yozora was quiet, sena was rarely able to tell what she was thinking. darting eyes, a tight-lipped expression, and the latter found herself better off thinking about when their skewers were about to arrive. her attention finally turned back to the prospecting giftee as the box was slid over to the side of the table.

"you should join me. tonight. not that you need to come over or anything. i just figured you should have a taste yourself, since you got it for me after all--" and yozora tucked a lock of hair behind her ears. "-- otherwise, it would be a waste of an opportunity for good alcohol."

now, sena had tried drinking before, and found that she could hold her own (a trait she must've gotten from her mother, she realized). part of her had remembered how it felt to have started to do so on her own, the other half recalling seeing a message shown to her by kodaka once, about her attendance at some of their meetings back when they were in saint chronica. so the habit (read: cover up) was a little more obvious, by now.

when yozora opened her mouth to speak once more, just as their skewer platters were being served, sena had the great opportunity of interrupting their server with a lean forward, and a squeak of earnesty --

"sure! i would love to."

…

the bottle of japanese harmony was meant to be enjoyed in sips. poured into tiny glasses, sena contemplated this, watching her friend indulge herself when they were back at the apartment, yozora insisting she not only learned how to drink it, but serve it as well. either it was butler training, or a necessity for her career in the future -- yozora had always been a schemer, but how far into the future her plans entailed, sena couldn't tell.

so cup after cup was poured -- more for sena, with yozora's count lagging behind.

sena also couldn't tell why, after several years of distrust between them, yozora was willing to allow sena to drink with her. yozora had always been adamant about sena's horrible track record towards her own demeanor. and they were friends, yes. close friends, perhaps; rivals, almost. but surely, the woman who preferred to keep all at a distance would've chosen to do things on her own, just as she usually did. it was evident, back then, during her stay in kashiwazaki residence especially.

it was when yozora leaned her head against sena's shoulder, at some point during their lounge, that the woman started to put the pieces together. her guess towards fear had been right, of being alone when it came to the drink. but aside from that, the whiskey had tasted especially delicious that night -- its usual sweetness enhanced by something or other. was it the winter chill? the toll of the bells on the midnight of christmas eve?

the realization struck her like a supernova, as sena set down her cup. yozora had looked upon her with an expression of queasiness mixed with aggravation -- and that had meant she didn't take kindly to the whiskey.

sena sought forgiveness for the infliction on inebrieation in those addled steps her friend took, as she guided yozora to bed. and her guest abided by it, going no further, deciding to sleep in the hall on the couch. it would be a good idea to ask about her past setup when daylight came for them later.

she wondered, too, if yozora, known for holding grudges, had forgiven her for anything else.

the miracle of christmas, that supernova from earlier, had been simple. past, present and future had all culminated in a single moment of vulnerability, reflected in her best friend's eyes. and though she was not expecting a gift from her visit, what she got out of her exchange was thus:

kashiwazaki sena may have been in love with her best friend the entire time.

and, in this hunt, she was determined that she was not going to lose.

#haganai #femslash february #yozora/sena

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cavalier-of-the-ninth · 2 years

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I shall always regret the day I said to my then gf, sure, invite them over.

It was the worse decision I EVER made. I let a monster into the house and into my life.

I didn't believe that I could personally let someone into my life - let alone love - someone who didn't have any meaningful redeeming qualities. It's a challenging concept because I just don't see people that way by nature. But experience, and the knowledge that she's more or less proud of being a malicious narcissist and general POS is.. special, in my experience. (And I was raised by a fairly dangerous narcissist as a matter of fact.)

I want peace. I want to be left alone.

I've informed people about what you've been doing.

It's one thing to occasionally banter by post with your fake blogs about the occasional sentiment, or engage in semi ridiculous mutual negging - since apparently you really like to bring it there; I mean, how dare I not want you?

I hoped to never say such awful things ever to anyone I cared about, hell, I don't say them to strangers. It's the very definition of language meant to rip and tear, like WMD with letters. It might be a reflex for you; it is not for me.

I do what I must do. Nothing less and nothing more, even when it makes me wince.

I get that that is not something you can feel about your behavior; I understand your mental world to some extent - probably more than most. I've studied you as you have me during the course of this 'game' you like to play for a long, long time now. The game has lasted somewhat longer than our direct presence in each other's lives. But that was lived during one the most intense moments in modern human history when the presence of a human and the bond of friendship was like a literal lifeline, it was 'everything'. It made for very intense bonding.

(I recall you calling me 'everything' - that along with 'favorite person', 'best friend', and 'soulmate', along with a whole host of nonsense.)

If someone had told me then what you would do and how you would do it, that the whole thing would amount to exactly nothing - other than to be an absolute scourge on my life - I would have argued. I would not have budged about defending you to anyone. And I didn't. I was still arguing with my ex and one of your former friends along the lines of, 'no, that's ridiculous. she may be xyz but she is NOT that' less than 2 months ago.

And damn. Were they ever 100 percent right.

Once I'm talking to my ex again, I'm going to tell her that she was right about the stuff that even I was skeptical about.

I'll probably recount the facts for my own sanity and posterity here - at some point, now that I've reconstructed some of what was going on even while we were together and just before. I remember an extensive amount; remembering details is my thing. There were some explanations that didn't make sense, and some trends that didn't make sense. I wish all of this was entirely in terms of your ex, but I'm thinking there was more going on there than just that.

(But not soon. I honestly don't have the mental energy.)

And the blogs: You've had those for years and years even though you lied about not being on Tumblr much when we first talked about it and began following each other.

You've even pretended to benother people and interacted with me as such - even by DM - long before I was aware you had other blogs or how many, before I saw the masks, the fake personas there. I only worked out who those early fake profiles were after reviewing the list of people I was following in the last 48 hours.

( I used to gaslight myself about the other blogs all the time; I figured I was the paranoid one and reading into things. It's so predictable now that at least one of my friends can tell it's you at a glance because she's seen enough of them.)

Who knew, right?

And you're proud of it. I don't have words for that.

We've been in cycles of love, hate, and who knows what for a long time now; you're like my own shadow in some ways, not quite silent and always watching. Always there.

It's been 2 YEARS of that, of being in each other's lives in some way and living next to each other. 2 YEARS. It has taken so much of my life and energy. What a fucking waste.

I'll never get that time back.

I don't care what you do. I don't want you. The more vicious you are, the more repulsive you are to me. (And you always find ways to outdo yourself, to find another low.)

I don't care about your existence in the upper class heterosexual world and how many wondrous advantages that offers to someone focused on status and money. You probably belong there.

I don't want you over here. You couldn't pull it off if you tried now anyway.

Stay out of my life and we'll be good to go. Talking would only ever happen now if you contacted me directly outside of social media, in public and with witnesses. I believed you last night bcs it's hard to remember or believe that people would keep pushing the envelope of vicious behavior like that. It's just something that is hard to really to wrap my head around - still.

I also supect others are involved in this - possibly. If that is so, you'd better hope never to give them reason to turn on you. Anyone involved doesn't even know me and even then, 90% of people would find the shit you get up to where I'm concerned to be stomach turning. Folks wouldn't even think to pull this kind of shit if I were, in fact, a crazy ex making up stories; regular people have limits about certain things, a squeamishness about intentionally attempting to torment people. (Emphasis on 'attempting'.) So if you have a willing participant, just know that could very well get turned on you someday and is quite likely to happen - as it's strong evidence of Dark Triad personality characteristics.

It's amazing to me that you people don't get that somehow.

I'm gonna wrap this up now - your piece of things anyway. Anything else I post today is probably not going to be about you.

Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Stop trying to trick me. Stop embarrassing yourself. Leave me alone.

I don't care about the rest. I don't want you. I don't respect you. I don't want to be your friend. Go live your life over there and leave me to mine.

Say what you gotta say like a grownup, or get out of my face on Tumblr hiding like a child behind a computer. I will be perfectly fine if you say nothing at all and frankly, it would make things more peaceful.

Hope this is clear.

Go away.

#psa #diary #personal diary

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amaya-chwan · 3 years

Text

Takeaways from Therapy Game: Restart Chapter 13 (and some Therapy Game news!)

Hello everyone! I hope you've all been well these past two months and taken care of yourselves! 💜

Before we get into our takeaways for chapter 13, I saw some news from Hinohara-sensei's Official Twitter that I would like to share with you all!

First piece of news: Therapy Game re:start volume 2 will be released on 1st June 2021! 🎉

Second: in conjunction with the release of the second volume, Sensei will have an in-person fan signing event at the Ikebukuro Animate store (animate honten) AND will have a special limited time shop featuring goods of our favourite dorks! This shop will be opened 6th-20th June! 🎉🎉

Image from Sensei's Official Twitter post! ❤️💛💜❤️

Now, what does the second piece of news mean for us not living in Japan (such as myself)? 🤔 Well, one of two things could happen:

We could see the merch on Sensei's Twitter and wish we could buy them one day 😭 OR

Animate could "potentially" release this merch for online order!

I'm not trying to get anyone's hopes up, but when I saw Animate open a special Yuri!!! on Ice shop last year, I didn't think they'd release merch online. But they did, for a very, very short period of time only! So my only hope is that they do that again for Hinohara-sensei! 🤞

Here's the special website from Sensei's twitter that has information about the fan signing event and limited time shop! It seems they'll show what merch will be available in the shop when it's all been finalised.

If I spot anymore updates about that, I'll try to post about it here! ❤️💛

Alright, down to business as usual! Let's get into our takeaways~ Thank you for being so patient with me! Life has been a little busy this year with juggling work and social life! So I really appreciate your patience! 💜

Here are our takeaways for this chapter:

Loving the brotherly love we see in this chapter! Warms my heart to no end! ❤️💛💜❤️

Minato, bb, you are growing up a lot! I am proud of you! 😭

Did I ever tell you guys that I really love Mito-san too? No? Well now I have ahah! He is just amazing and I love the energy he has--cool and lovable, yet smooth and sexy! Loving the domestic vibes I'm getting! 😍😍

AHHH SHIZUMA! Your smile is too pure, it's blinding! 🥰

Just couple goals from Shizuma and Minato, AND from Mito-san and Shouhei! (Why I don't call Mito-san Itsuki, I'll never know ahah I blame Shouhei! XDDD) ❤️💛💜❤️

The younger sibling moments in this chapter are so relatable! (I am that younger sibling ahahah!) 🤣🤣🤣

I honestly don't know what to think of Onodera at this point in time? 🤔

The (supposed) date time with Shizuma and Minato went from adorable anticipation to steamy relations in a split second, but not NSFW! 😲

And that’s it for this chapter’s takeaways! For a more detailed breakdown/summary of this chapter, please continue after the cut! Since it's been a while since the last chapter, I threw in some extra surprises in this summary, so keep reading if you want to see~ 😉✨

Our chapter begins with an image of Mito-san and Minato, with Minato's cheek leaning on Mito-san's shoulder. The dialogue reads: When it seems like my overflowing emotions are about to burst from the seams, I really do yearn for this back (i.e. something familiar he can always lean on).

We see Minato spaced out on a sofa, being called by Itsuki. Itsuki tells Minato to go home if he's just going to sit there like that since he is very busy cleaning his entire home for when Shouhei moves in with him! Minato gets up, understands the situation, and helps Itsuki out.

Itsuki, knowing something has happened between Shizuma and Minato, asks Minato directly since he only goes to Itsuki's place when he is troubled, and he must be troubled by something related to Shizuma. He also says that Shizuma is worried about Minato, especially since Itsuki lied to him about Minato's whereabouts.

Minato brushes it off, saying that it's nothing big. He talks about the time when they had to drop by Shizuma's workplace, he saw a woman/Onodera (not knowing she's Shizuma's director) and that Shizuma made an very adorable face while talking to her.

Minato stops talking, so Itsuki asks if that is all to the story. Minato then says yes, so Itsuki deduces that Minato is ignoring Shizuma because he happily spoke with that woman (Onodera) and confirms with Minato, who then agrees. Itsuki blames himself for raising Minato like this and apologises to Shizuma in his inner monologue.

Minato defensively says he's told Shizuma not to do that, yet he still does. Minato's monologue says that this Shizuma--who is talking to someone unknown to him, about a story he doesn't know, in a place he doesn't know about--seems like a distant person to him.

He realises that even though he and Shizuma are together, he cannot monopolise him, and that it annoys him. So rather than tell him not to speak with others, he has chosen not to see Shizuma until he calms down. Suddenly, a handyman appears at Itsuki's home to beginning furniture installations.

Image translated from Sensei’s Twitter post here!

Minato is surprised Itsuki replaced a lot of his furniture, to which Itsuki replies: "I wonder if Shouhei-kun prefers the new ones too." Minato says Shouhei would freeze from this "surprise" and imagines Shouhei asking how much it cost!

Itsuki, still in his happy bubble, says he wants Shouhei to also select some household furniture and accessories, so they'll go shopping together next time. Minato is happy for them since their house-moving plans are going well. Itsuki goes back to their previous topic of conversation, and says how Shizuma and Shouhei both are very charming. He recounts how Shouhei would handle different kinds of customers, from the difficult to the sad ones, how his charms and personable skills would change their mood completely, and calls him a genius who has a knack for calming customers.

Minato asks if Itsuki dislikes that, since he himself doesn't know what to think of Shizuma showing his charm and friendliness to others and that some misunderstandings would arise eventually.

Itsuki then reminds Minato that out of all the people in the world, Shizuma asked Minato to live with him, and that thought alone must've made him happy.

Minato does agree, yet it doesn't change the fact that he is unaware of what Shizuma does outside of the home. Itsuki is then suspicious that Minato and Shizuma are going to move in together too.

Minato panics, and says he just meant that from Itsuki's point of view since he's moving in with Shouhei. Just as Minato thinks he's almost let the secret slip, he gets a phone call. Itsuki tells Minato that it's Shizuma, but Minato refuses to pick it up as he is "still cleaning"--the real reason is that Minato told Shizuma he wouldn't forgive him if they speak before Minato gave the OK to talk again.

Itsuki, being the older brother, answers the phone and slides it on the desk near Minato and leaves him to talk with Shizuma, even putting it on loud speaker since Minato is preoccupied.

Shizuma is frantically trying to get a response from Minato, to which Minato responds with a simple: “What... I can hear you.” The first thing Shizuma asks is where Minato is at this present moment, fearing that he might be at a suspicious place. Minato says he isn't and is in fact in the neighbourhood doing some errands. Shizuma breathes a sigh of relief and is thankful his call finally reached Minato as no one he asked knew where Minato was, and because Shizuma was overthinking things, he was just about to go searching for him.

Minato tells him that he doesn't need to go to such lengths and make such a big fuss about it, but Shizuma tells him that he will always make a big fuss about it since it's about Minato. To avoid such a thing happening again, Shizuma tells Minato not to make him worry. Then these pages happen:

Just as their talk of their brothers' moving into together comes to an end, Shizuma gets all excited to go apartment hunting with Minato again and reminds him, not knowing that Itsuki is also listening. The Mito brothers freeze in surprise, with Itsuki soon confirming his earlier suspicions with Minato--his eyes and aura going all kira kira (i.e. sparkly). Minato tries to reprimand him for bringing it up now, but Shizuma continues on, saying he's found a few places he likes and they should start inspecting prospective apartments soon before they're overwhelmed by it all.

Minato hastily agrees to it all, and Shizuma smirks on the other end of the phone, asking Minato when they can see each other. Shizuma suggests Friday if he is too busy at the present moment, and just as Minato gives work as an excuse not to see him on that day, Itsuki jumps in and says he can go see Shizuma.

Shizuma, very surprised by the fact Itsuki overheard their conversation, says his name aloud, and Shouhei overhears him. Itsuki thanks Shizuma for letting him overhear such an adorable story featuring Shouhei. And then this happens:

Still very flustered, Minato quickly agrees to seeing Shizuma on Friday and promptly ends the call before Shizuma can even finish saying "Wait!" Itsuki happily approaches Minato and asks to hear more of their apartment hunting adventures, to which Minato replies that nothing is final yet!

We change locations, and Minato is now on the balcony scrubbing the floor. Minato recalls how he wanted to tell Itsuki about his and Shizuma's plans to move in together further down the track. He then is overjoyed at the thought that Shizuma missed him and wanted to see him. While he awaits Friday, he remembers and is embarrassed by how furious he was the last time they saw each other. He plans to start a skin routine to care for his face and to get his hair done.

Just as he thinks this, he is called out by none other than Shizuma, who is on the ground floor outside. Minato, visibly surprised, asks Shizuma why he’s here. Shizuma tells him that the shop is close to his home. Minato knows this, but is more curious as to why he is here since they just agreed to see each other on Friday. Shizuma is taken aback for a moment, before saying:

While Minato hides away from Shizuma and quickly tries to style his hair, Itsuki overhears a ruckus on his balcony and goes to investigate. We then find out that Shouhei accompanied Shizuma. Shouhei calls out to Itsuki and asks why he didn't tell him that he was cleaning the whole house. The Ikushima brothers offer to help out with the cleaning, with Shizuma joining in because his younger brother will be under Itsuki's care soon. Itsuki happily agrees, saying that he wouldn't be able to fully clean the place if only Minato were there.

As the Ikushima brothers are getting ready to go upstairs to help, Itsuki says the brothers are indeed good, endearing people, and their charming personalities would probably make Minato and Itsuki anxious at times. Minato agrees. Itsuki then continues to say that while Shizuma and Shouhei charm those around them, the only ones who can make them smile the way they do are themselves. Minato is concerned about a possible intruder in their relationship, and Itsuki provides some brotherly advice.

We change scenes to Onodera, smoking on the clinic rooftop and thinking about Shizuma's smiling face.

We change scenes again to Minato, waiting for Shizuma at a predetermined location since it is now Friday. Happy with his new hairdo, Minato reminds himself not to get angry, to sort out the current situation they're in (i.e. Minato's one-sided anger at Shizuma), and to be calm and collected.

Shizuma then gets out of a car across the road, and looks around for Minato. Minato, who can see him very clearly, smiles happily and decides to let Shizuma look for him a little longer. A few more moments pass by, and Shizuma spots Minato and then waves happily to him. However, there is a slight problem.

Minato sees “the woman from last time” (Onodera) driving the car who then passes Shizuma his phone, with him smiling awkwardly at her. He recalls Itsuki's brotherly advice. Minato had actually asked Itsuki a follow-up question: "You say ‘just don't lose,’ but what should I actually do?" Itsuki tells him that it's something he has to figure out for himself.

Shizuma runs to Minato, apologising for making Minato wait. He explains that he was running late due to various issues, and he seemed to have dropped his phone in the car of the person who dropped him off. Before he could even tell Minato that it's his director who dropped him off, Minato says he doesn't need to say anything else and to just go out with him.

We see that Shizuma and Minato are now at a hotel, with Minato quickly pushing Shizuma onto the bed. Shizuma is annoyed at himself for letting Minato see such a scene that would cause a misunderstanding. Before heading over to the bed, Minato closes the door, turns to face Shizuma, and grins. He crawls onto the bed and immediately kisses Shizuma. He calls out Shizuma's name before asking him:

He softly pleads with Shizuma, asking for a quick response. Shizuma wonders if Minato's jealously is making him want to be held right now. He thinks Minato is really, really adorable, but also realises this isn't the right time to be thinking this. So Shizuma does tell Minato he loves him, that it's obvious he loves him very much. He apologises for causing him to worry and that he never once intended to do so. Minato cuts him off, saying that he understands and that it's okay.

Despite saying so, Shizuma notices the atmosphere is a little different than usual. Minato then tells Shizuma that he's been thinking of a way to ensure he doesn't lose Shizuma to anyone or lets anyone take him. The final page shows us this:

Again, THANK YOU FOR READING THIS FAR! 💜 📢 As always, please support Hinohara-sensei by purchasing her books and CDs! 📢

And that’s it for this chapter! 😲 Another cliffhanger here, and ngl that was a little (SFW-ish) steamy? I honestly do not know what to expect in the next chapter!! Dominant Minato????? But I hope you enjoyed the few extra panels in this summary! 💜 My laptop struggled to keep up, so I will go back to only showing a handful of panels in future summaries. Please also refrain from resharing these translations and images outside of this post! Thank you for understanding! ❤️💛

The next chapter will be in next month's Dear+, so the wait isn't too much longer! So I shall see you all next month for our next set of takeaways to find out what happens next!

As always, stay safe during these turbulent times and look out for each other and for your loved ones! 💜❤️💛

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