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#winter percussion
beardedmrbean · 1 month
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Rad
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SHORT HIATUS!!!
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Hello! Apologies for the inactivity for the past couple of days, it’s been a SUPER busy April for me! And of course, it’s about to get even busier!
That’s why I am announcing today that I will be taking a short hiatus from this blog for a very important reason: I Will Be Attending WGI FINALS FOR INDOOR PERCUSSION IN DAYTON!!!
The percussion group I’m in have been working their asses off to get our show to the level of clarity and quality we need it to be at, and we are all super excited to be taking this show to the finals!!! I will be abroad from Tuesday, April 16th to Tuesday, April 23rd, and intend to put all of my time and energy into performing our very best, so I won’t have any time to post new things for this blog. However, I thought I’d share this with you guys since it is sorta related to marching band :) Thank you all for your wonderful support on my first 3 posts to this blog! I can’t wait to see what I do with it in the near future :)
I’ll see you all in a week! And hey if you’re attending WGI too, come say hi! I don’t bite!
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jdoesnothing · 2 months
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man i love being a marching cymbal in winter perc. The only thing the music judge said about us was "haha cymbals haha" :)
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kisses0 · 2 months
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HILY SHIT
Holyyyyyy
AHHH THE WINTER PERCUSSIN ID FOING A DJOW ON 1984 BY GEORGE PRWELLL PLSSSIFIWOFKNWND
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jargop-doe · 1 year
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Update on winter/indoor percussion:
I love this and you can pry it away from my cold, dead hands.
Also: Cymbals are a lot more arm work than I expected, and I'm very lucky my left thumb is double-jointed. Because there have been a few occasions where I would have had some serious problems if it was not.
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soleioux · 1 year
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Something for AP art!
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geodethecrow · 3 months
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mimba . . .
i don't mimber how to play . . .
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shitpostingsystem · 4 months
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i love working off debt
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scattered-winter · 7 months
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the kon news has me listening to black panther on repeat this is what it's done to me
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jdoesnothing · 5 months
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SO MARCHING BAND CHAMPS HAPPENED...
MY BAND GOT 3rd PLACE WITH A SCORE OF 79.2 FOR SCSBOA. ITS BEEN A WEEK BUT IM STILL CONFLICTED ON HOW I SHOULD FEEL. (marching season over??? how??? why???) VERY HAPPY VERY SAD VERY CONFUSED OVERALL
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klaus-lippitsch · 1 year
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Konzert am Feuerberg und erstes Konzert im neuen Jahr #gerlitzen #feuerberg #concert #ethno #hammereddulcimer #vocal #guitar #percussion #mountain #air #snow #winter #newyear https://www.instagram.com/p/CnAyq3jNOPs/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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gumycandyyy · 8 months
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୨♡ Winter King HCS ♡୧
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I am ashamed of tumblr for not making more fanfic of this funky fruit.
We got some general HCS and then some romantic ones under the cut! (I went a little overboard with the romantic ones, hehe!)
Gender-neutral
୨♡ General ♡୧
-Man's self care routine is off the charts
-I'm serious, he has like- 80 different bubble bath concoctions.
-Smells like mint
-or some kind of cold scent.
-I feel like he loves dressing up fancy, so he has a closet full of sparkly suits
-maybe even some dresses if he's feeling special.
-Doesn't actually need to wear glasses, he just likes how they look.
-While he loves his winter wonder world, I feel like he'd enjoy rainy weather more than snow.
-He got rid of all his madness and sadness, yes, but I think he'd cry at something especially cute. Happy tears, y'know?
"Why are you crying, sir? Are you okay?" "Oh, it's nothing. *sniff* Just those two rabbits that are cuddling."
-He is really bad at any percussion instrument
-like.. REALLY bad.
-His hands are too delicate for such a garish instrument as the drums!
-He loves playing duets on the piano, but rarely has anyone to play with.
-I mean, he could always concoct up an ice creature to play piano with him, but that's honestly quite dull.
-His favorite movie would probably be an old Christmas movie, like It's a Wonderful Life.
-He gets kidnapped by the Candy Queen so often, that occasionally he brings a book or something snuggly to help him wait for his ice scouts to rescue him.
-He once got so bored while kidnapped that he tried to read to some of the mutilated candy people
-That was the last time he saw his favorite book.
-Safe to say he doesn't bring his favorites anymore.
୨♡ Romantic ♡୧
-Will literally spoil his love interest rotten.
-You want that thing you saw earlier?
-Consider it yours
-You'd like for it to snow outside?
-A sprinkle or a blizzard?
-Literally anything, this man will go to the ends of the universe to get you what you'd like.
-Love languages are definitely gift giving and physical touch
-probably acts of service too.
-Loves dancing.
-Loves dancing.
-Whether it be a slow dance or ice-skating, he will take every opportunity to dance with you!
-He adores short people.
-Good, because he's tall as a giant.
-if you're shorter than him, he will no doubt use you as an armrest.
-He always makes remarks on how cute you are.
-Even if you're only two inches shorter than him.
-If you're taller...
-hoo boy.
-Expect him to be all over you.
-figuratively and literally.
-Will want you to carry him everywhere, sit in your lap, rest against you, whatever.
-Just let him touch you.
-He'll talk about how strong you are, how you'd be the perfect chair, etc. etc.
-He does the stupid "How's the weather up there?" jokes.
-Loves your body, no matter what it looks like.
-You're skinny?
-You're easy to carry around and dance with.
-You're chubby or fat?
-Literally will always be holding onto or resting on part of you. He loves squishy people.
-Somewhere in the middle?
-He could not care less. He loves you regardless of what you look like.
-And he makes sure to emphasize his point by complimenting you endlessly.
-He will never leave your side.
-Even if you need space, he doesn't.
-So why wouldn't you?
-Back to our regularly scheduled fluff-
-Candy Queen hates your guts.
-She thinks you're an obstacle, keeping her from the Winter King.
-No doubt tries to kill you.
-Multiple times. a day
-Her plans are always foiled, but if she gets too close to genuinely hurting you, Winter will be so upset.
"Oh, Dearest, please tell me you're okay!" "You are?" "Phew. I don't know what I'd do if you were hurt in any way."
-His petnames for you are probably
-Darling,
-Dearest,
-My love,
-There are a lot more, but those are the main ones.
-LOVES kissing you.
-Anytime, any way.
-He finds it adorable when his nose bumps your face.
-Favorite place to kiss would probably be the back of your hand.
-He is a gentleman after all.
-Overall, he just adores you.
-And he sincerely hopes you love him just as much as he does you.
Headcanon requests are open for Winter King! Don't be afraid to send an ask, and be shameless! I know I am! (No smut tho. Some spice is okay, however.)
Have some free WK art for coming this far!
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reblog for a beginner writer?
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radioactiveparker · 22 days
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The Breakfast Club - Eddie Munson X F!Cheerleader!Reader
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Part Two - Low Tolerance For Dehydration
Chapter Summary - We begin to learn the truth about why these kids are the way they are. (A retelling of The Breakfast Club, written and directed by John Hughes.)
Chapter Warnings - Characters are all 18+ / Strong Language / Illusions to Abuse/ Abusive Relationship / Dysfunctional Families / Kleptomania / References to Religious Beliefs / Sexual References / Drug References / Stereotyping / Angst
Word Count - 7.2k
(Series Masterlist) (Masterlist)
(Part One)
-----
Saturday.
October 25th, 1984.
Hawkins High Library.
10:30am.
~~~~~
After that rather thrilling event courtesy of Eddie Munson and Principal Higgins, the next two hours went on forever.
The grinding of gears, the hum of the electric motor, and the movement of the clock's hands invaded the silence. The second hand made a rapid clicking sound. You counted each one. At twenty-second intervals, the minute hand squeaked. The clock sounds became the percussion for a lullaby that almost lulled you to sleep.
Eddie remained seated next to you, spending the better part of an hour sulking that he had just wrecked the rest of his winter. The rest of the time, he spent scratching markings into the table with his car keys (which you immediately told him to stop out of annoyance. He ignored you, of course) and counting all the pictures he can see in the medullary rays of the wood. In his mind, he connected the lines and dots. Before his eyes, they formed the crude outline of a shapely woman with her legs rudely spread apart. He used the notebook paper to cover it up. He did not want to spend the next five and a half hours with a boner he couldn't get rid of. Especially one given to him by something as ridiculous as an imaginary table lady.
Steve was lazily picking off the fuzz of a tennis ball that he found in the lost and found box behind the front desk, piling it up in a small illuminous heap. The bald patches reminded him of principal Higgin's round, balding head. He picked at it harder, really digging his fingernails into the stringy felt like it had personally offended him.
Nancy was trying to write her paper. Normally, the undisturbed silence would be prime time to work on an essay, but she began staring off into space, her mind wondering. All she had managed to write was a title 'Who Am I?', her name, the date, and the time. Each time she would bring herself back to reality, she would check her watch, then erase the time and write the new one. 
Robin was hunched over, hidden in her hair as she scribbled over her cherry red converse. She wrote whatever came to mind; her name, milk duds, a drawing of the top half of a naked woman, a copy of her fingerprint. She kept going until the red had almost disappeared.
You rested your head in your palms, eyes looking up as you counted the tiles on the ceiling. You got to thirty eight when Eddie nudged you. You opened your mouth to scold him for making you lose count, when he slid a sheet of paper over to you. He'd drawn a tic-tac-toe grid and placed an X in the centre square. You grabbed a pencil and drew a circle in the top right corner, deciding to keep him entertained before he starts causing more trouble. He smiled cutely when you slid the paper back to him. 
The two of you played until both sides looked like a gingham tea towel. Much to your distaste, you lost 38 - 43. Eddie pulled tongues as the victor and you decided then to never play tic-tac-toe with Eddie again; you didn't want his head getting bigger than it already was.
The library door swung open and Principal Higgins stood with a scowling face.
"All right. Who has to go to the rest room?"
All hands shot up. 
Higgins gave a single nod, signalling that everyone could get out of their seats. You groaned in relief when your spine cracked, though you still had pins and needles in your left foot and your butt was numb from sitting on it for too long. The Principal lead you all down the hall to the restrooms, where he unlocked them with a jingling of keys.
"Two minutes for the boys. Three minutes for the girls." He stared at his watch like he was already starting the count down.
"How come they get an extra minute?" Eddie complained, pointing at the group of girl who all had their arms crossed, looking at him like the answer was obvious.
"Try and remember your biology, Munson." Principal Higgins rolled his eyes, still staring at his watch.
"Oh, right. Does that mean Harrington gets another minute?"
Annoyed, Steve pushed through into the bathroom. Eddie followed behind, laughing manically. 
The two of them rarely used the schools restroom, even for Eddie who was kind of a slob, they were too disgusting. Students only ever really used them to hide when skipping classes. The walls were covered in graffiti and a few of the tiles were cracked, and there was always something on the floor that made the bottom of their shoes sticky. They didn't even want to try to guess what it was. Steve stood in front of the urinal and unzipped his jeans. Eddie hopped onto the countertop and fished through his hair to retrieve the cigarette from behind his ear.
"You want one?"
Steve took a peek behind him. "Oh yeah, ten of 'em please. I need to prove I'm a man."
"Whatever man." That was the last time Eddie would offer Steve anything ever again.
He fumbled in his pocket, took out a lighter and lit his cigarette.
Meanwhile, the state of the girls bathroom wasn't much better. The floors were less sticky, but there was always tissue all over the place, and a funny smell in the air.
"Is this a drag, or what?" You looked at your tired eyes in the reflection and started complaining about them to the girls. 
Nancy rummaged through her purse, pulling out perfume bottles, make-up, compacts, brushes; an incredible amount of things that she probably didn't need. Nancy very helpfully let you borrow the make-up out of her bag. You were looking as good as new in no time.
"You want one?" Robin pulled out a pack of spearmint gum and stuck one in her mouth.
You looked at her repulsed. "Robin, you can't eat in the bathroom. What if you get VD of the mouth or something!"
She paused like she hadn't thought about that. She quickly walked to the sink and washed her hands. She grabbed a paper towel to dry them and then used it to open the door. She held the door open with her foot, wadded up the paper towel and made a three pointer into the waste bin. A shot that even Steve would find impressive, even if she did surprise herself making it in the first place. She didn't show that though. 
"You're into washing your hands, but you eat inches away from a live toilet?" 
She gave you an offended glare her, and left the bathroom, letting the door close on you and Nancy. You turned to Nancy and gave her a look that said 'I'm not crazy for thinking that am I?'. 
"I mean that was a little disgusting, but you could have worded it a bit nicer."
She walked out, leaving you wondering whose side she was on.
"I didn't mean to upset you." You called after Robin. "I was just reacting to something I thought was seriously weird. I mean, I'll listen if you needed some one to talk to about it." 
Robin didn't give you the time of day, just rolled her eyes to herself. She didn't appreciate the way you worded your apology; like she was the one with the problem.
"Let's go. Shake it off!" Higgins called into the boys bathroom.
Even with the extra minute you were given, the girls still managed to be done before the boys. Eddie opened the door, smelling strongly of tobacco.
"Where's Harrington?"
"Drowned." Eddie said bluntly.
The Principal crossed to the door and peaked his head in. "Alright, Harrington, c'mon. Lets go!"
Steve made a few final adjustments to his hair, raking his fingers through it to position his chestnut curls perfectly on his head. Principal Higgins dragged him out before he could finish.
~~~~~
11:30am
~~~~~
You laid across three chairs as some sort of make shift bed and tucked your coat underneath your head for a pillow. You had planned to take a nap, but Nancy had decided to sharpen her pencil. The winding and grinding of the sharpener grated your ears. She knew she was making a lot of noise, but she couldn't seem to get a good point on her pencil. She took it out of the sharpener, blew the dust from the tip, and examined it before shoving it back in. She had three quarters left of her pencil.
Steve had a straight leg on the front table and reached over to touch his toes, stretching his hamstring. How he did it in those jeans was beyond you. His little grunts of effort and heavy breaths as he switched legs annoyed you almost as much as Nancy's sharpening. Robin was in her same seat, picking at her black, chipped nails in her lap and chewing her gum loudly out of spite. How you had gone from sitting in hours of silence, to a sudden ruckus when you wanted to sleep was just your luck. 
Eddie had chosen to sit in front of you on the table, ripping out pages of textbooks from the history section. 
Nancy winced at each tear. "What are you doing?"
"What does it look like I'm doing, Princess? I'm vandalising public property." He said it like it was obvious, loudly ripping another page to emphasise his point. "You get off on being stupid, or something?"
"You're such a waste."
Eddie placed the book gently on the table, giving it a few taps for good measure. He sat up straight, hands on his knees like a teachers pet. He nodded sarcastically in agreement. "You're absolutely right. It's wrong to destroy literature. It's such fun."
He jumped down off the desk, kicking up loose pages as he stalked over to his next victim: the card files. He pulls out the entire draw completely and lugged it back over to his spot on the desk. The unexpected slam of it on the table startled you, and you sat up with a huff. There was no way you were getting sleep any time soon.
Nancy scoffed as he began yanking the catalogue cards out and putting them back in a random order, creating a horrible mess for someone to sort out later. She continued to grind the sharpener.
"Big deal." You mocked her, she and the sharpener were really starting to get on your nerves. "It's not like there's anything better to do."
Eddie was impressed. He turned to you. "You grounded tonight?" 
His question threw you off, but you knew there was definitely more to it. "No, why?"
He looked surprised that you weren't, but he didn't know that your parents weren't even aware you were here in the first place. "Reefer Rick is throwing a Halloween party down by Lover's Lake tonight. Wanna come?"
Apparently, all it took was a few games of tic-tac-toe to get into Eddie's good books. There was a part of you that wanted to go. It was another excuse to get away from your parents, but you didn't want to imagine the shit you would get from Carol if she found out you had gone to a party with Eddie 'The Freak' Munson. Then Billy crept back into your mind. Your blood went cold at the thought. You knew he wasn't here, but you expected him to come charging through the doors any second now. You had to make sure he knew you weren't interested in Eddie. You didn't want another repeat of this morning.
"Why would I want to go to that crackhead's place? I'll probably catch a disease."
Eddie looked a little disappointed and a little offended that you had insulted his friend, but he hid it well. So why did you feel kind of bad?
You looked up at him with big eyes. "I mean, my mom doesn't like me going to parties anyway."
"What about your dad?"
"If I do what my mom doesn't want me to it's because my dad says it's okay.  And if I do what my dad doesn't want me to it's because my mom says it's okay. It's like this whole big monster deal. It lasts forever and it's a total drag. It's like any minute: divorce." You hated talking about your parents, but I felt good to get off your chest. Carol and Tommy never cared to ask.
"Who do you like better?"
"Huh?"
"You like your old man better than your mom?"
"They're both screwed." You sighed. You didn't like where this conversation was headed anymore. Nancy had stopped sharpening her pencil and you could feel everyone listening in.
"If you had to pick?"
"I don't know. I mean, they must have loved each other at some point, but I guess I wasn't around for that part. So I don't think any of them really care about me either. They just use me as ammunition in their little wars."
"HA!" Your response had provoked a laugh from Robin. A laugh that let you know she thought you deserved it. She was more offended by that comment in the bathroom than you had thought.
"You're just feeling sorry for yourself." Steve added, shaking out his legs.
You didn't find it very fair that they were ganging up on you all of a sudden. "If I didn't, nobody else would."
"Oh, you're breaking my heart." But Steve didn't sound sincere at all. You weren't enjoying this side of Steve one bit. And it was all because of Billy. 
"Do you get along with your parents?" Eddie sided with you.
"If I say, yes, I'm a real idiot, right?"
"I think you're an idiot anyway. But if you say you get along with your parents, you'll be a liar, too."
"You know something, I've just about had it with you. If we weren't in school, man, I'd wail all over you. They'd have to pick you up with tweezers."
Eddie didn't seem fazed. Eddie got threats like this all the time, it wasn't anything he hadn't already heard before. 
"I don't really get along with my parents." Nancy piped up, trying to get the boys attention away from each other so there wasn't a brawl in the middle of the library.
"Yeah right, you're every parent's wet dream."
"That's the problem." She paused, you saw her eyes glaze over then looked at you. "I don't think my parents ever loved each other either."
Everyone was silent, looking at her like they were waiting for her to burst into tears. She regretted bring it up.
"They must have married for some reason?" Steve asked. Whether it was because he was being nosey, or he was concerned for her, you couldn't tell.
"My mom was younger. My dad was older, but he had a cushy job, money, came from a good family. So they bought a nice house at the end of the cul-de-sac and started their nuclear family."
"Screw that."
"Yeah, screw that."
"I could see you not liking them for making you wear those kind of clothes, but, shit, what else would you be doing if you weren't busy making yourself a better citizen?" Eddie clearly hadn't read the room.
"Why do you have to insult everybody?" Eddie was really pushing Steve's limits. You noticed it happened especially when it came to Nancy.
"I'm being honest, asshole. I'd expect you to know the difference." He said it like he had had a similar argument with Steve in the past.
Nancy raised her middle finger at him. 
"Whoa, obscene gestures from such a pristine girl."
"I'm not that pristine." Nancy argued, though she regretted it almost immediately.
She cleared her throat and make her way back to her seat. 
"Are you a virgin?" She caught Steve's eye, they shared a look, but Eddie missed it. "I'll bet you a million dollars that you are."
"Would you take that bet, Robin?"
"Not really."
"That's the last time I call you 'Robin', Buckley."
He continued. "Have you ever been felt up? Over the bra, under the blouse, shoes off...hoping to God your parents don't walk in?" 
Nancy was getting upset. "Do you want me to puke?"
"Over the panties, no bra, blouse unbuttoned, Calvin's in a ball on the front seat past eleven on a school night?"
You squeezed your thighs together. His voice was deep and masculine, sending you off into an alluring day dream. You found yourself in the back seat of a car, a strong man towering over you, rough hands caressing your soft skin. He takes off your bra, exposing your breasts to the cold air of the night, nipples hardening. He's groping them, kissing them, loving on them. Your moaning and he's trailing his lips lower. Your hands thread themselves in his brown, wavy hair. He's pulling your panties down with his teeth, looking up at you with those big brown eyes of his. And suddenly you were in the back of his van, pulling off his patched, demin jacket until he's leaning over you completely naked. He put his lips to your ear, whispering --
"Hey, why don't you leave her alone!" Steve breaks you out of your imagination.
"You gonna make me?"
"Yeah."
"You and whose army?"
"Just me and five of my fingers. I hit you. You hitting floor. Anytime you're ready."
Eddie realised that Steve was being serious, but doesn't believe he is quite capable of making good on his threat. 
"Yeah? You want a black eye to go with that split lip? You couldn't fight Billy Hargrove, what makes you think you can beat me?"
Your chest tightened at his name and your eyes darted to the door. They stayed shut. It calmed you a little, but your heart was still beating against your ribcage. You placed a hand there in case it burst out. You wondered how Eddie knew about the fight at the party, you hadn't seen him there. But then again, word travels fast around Hawkins High. Your breathing became heavy. All this arguing was making you dizzy. You could do without a repeat of last Thursday.
"Try me."
"Eddie." You pleaded him not to retaliate, swallowing down your pride for a second of peace.
He looked at you, and suddenly Eddie was not in the mood to fight Steve. The fear in your eyes scared him a little. You were serious about them not fighting. But luckily for you, Eddie knew when to stop. Besides, there were ladies present, and he was a gentleman.
To some extent.
 "Whatever man, I'm not getting into this with you."
"Why not?"
"Why not?" He paused. He wasn't going to tell Steve he did it for you. "'Cause I'd kill you. It's real simple, you'd die and your fucking parents would sue me and It'd be a big mess and I don't care enough about you to bother. So drop it."
"Chicken."
"You know, you should see a doctor. I think those steroids are frying your brain."
Steve just laughed him off, believing that he had scared Eddie into yielding and he was just giving one last dig to preserve his pride. Eddie looked a Nancy, but she was already staring at him. 
"What is it that makes you act like such a fool?"
"I'm not getting enough vitamin B."
Steve fumed. He wanted his fist to connect with that smartass mouth of his. "Let's end this right now. You don't talk to her...you don't look at her and you don't even think about her! You understand me?"
"I'm trying to help her." He said it like it was as plain as a pikestaff.
"Help me?" Nancy was insulted. "Why don't you work on yourself?"
"I did. I finished last Tuesday. Now I'm working on the rest of the world." He pointed at Steve, who looked about ready to swing. "I could help you, big boy."
"Spare me."
"I can help a lot of people, all they have to do is ask nicely."
"I'll kill you." Steve threatened with a clenched fist.
Eddie looked unmoved. He heard threats like that at least five times a day. "Well, I should just let you and everyone else who wants to kill me fight for the privilege."
There was a rumbling from beyond the library door. In a flurry of panic, everyone got themselves into position, acting like they hadn't moved an inch away from their seats. Eddie sat next to you again, accidently kicking your foot under the table. You kicked it back in annoyance. He did it again, only on purpose this time. 'What a child' you thought. You put your coat on the back of your chair and sat up straight, expecting Principal Higgins to come storming in.
Everybody visibly relaxed when Carl, the janitor, came rumbling in with his music playing quietly from his radio, dragging his cart behind him. He had a face you didn't quite know how to take; he looked friendly enough, but could turn at the snap of your fingers. He was skinny and stood at a height of 5"8, with a limp of a man who worked hard for his living. He smiled everyone, but the only one who seems the acknowledge him was Robin. She returned the smile and gave him a small wave, in hopes of being nice but not letting the others see. He went into the librarians office and grabbed the waste basket.
"Hey Sweetheart, your dad's here." 
You gave him an unamused smile and kicked his shin under the desk once more.
Carl came out of the office and dumped the basket on his cart. He left his cart in the main library and walked down the pathway to grab another trash bin at the back of the room. 
"Hey, Carl?"
Carl paused in surprise that any student here, with the exception of Robin, would talk to him. He turned around, but Eddie still remained facing the front, putting his back to him. 
"How does one become a janitor."
Everyone supressed a giggle, even Steve despite his dislike for Eddie. Only Robin remained silent. She didn't find it very funny.
"You want to become a janitor?" Carl raised an eyebrow.
"No I just wanna know how one becomes a janitor because Steve here, is very interested in perusing a career in the custodial arts."
Steve stopped laughing at that. Carl scratched his head. He knew that they were making fun of him. But Carl wasn't one someone should mess with. He turned off his radio, pulled off his rubber gloves and shoved them in his back pocket.
"You guys think I'm just a lowly janitor. Some fucking untouchable peasant. Maybe so, but following a broom around after shitheads like you for five years, I've learned a few things. I read your notes, I go through your letters. I listen to your conversations. I am the eyes and ears of this institution. I know where you are now and I know where you'll be in the future."
Everyone exchanged worried looks as Carl moved to tower in front of Eddie. "You got ten years, max. Drugs. Rundown trailer in West Texas. Whore wife takes the baby, you shoot a fatal dose. Probable? Maybe not. Possible? Think so."
He turned to you. "You get married to a guy with lots of material success. Corporate position. Big bucks. Black Jag. You have three kids, nobody gives a shit. You get divorced and have a big fuckin' heart attack at thirty-eight, thirty-nine."
Steve was next. "District sales manager for a golf club manufacturer. Shitty little compact company car, twenty-two five a year and a wife as big as a boxcar."
Finally, Nancy. "Six face-lifts and two boob jobs by forty and a husband with more girlfriends than anniversaries."
He stepped back and put on his gloves. The stunned reaction on everybody's faces made him smile. "But I'm just a janitor." He shrugged.
And with that, he grabbed his cart, wheeled it around and headed out. He paused at the door and looked at the clock. 
"By the way, that thing's twenty minutes slow." He winked as he left and everybody groaned. 
~~~~~
12:30pm
~~~~~
Everybody was bored out of their skulls after the shock of Carl's speech had worn off. You took the time to think about what he had said. He had tried to put a downer on you, but the life he had predicted for you sounded like paradise, compared to now. Even if you did only have twenty years left to live. As crazy as it sounded, it gave you a bit of hope. There was a chance that you could work up the courage to leave Billy and meet someone nice, or at least wealthy. You had never given any thought about having kids, especially not with Billy, but now, maybe you could see yourself with a kid. You'd want a boy, and he'd look just like his father; Curly brown hair, big russet eyes, and a toothy smile. What would you name him? Would you name him after his father? Maybe Michael, or Christopher, James. Edward? You liked that name. 
Your eyes flashed to the door as it opened. Principal Higgins strolled in with a frown of his face, even though no one had done anything to upset him yet.
Yet.
"Thirty minutes for lunch." He declared.
"Excuse me Sir, I think the cafeteria would be a more suitable place to eat lunch."
"I don't care what you think, Harrington." 
Steve sunk back into his seat.
"Uh, Dick?" Eddie cleared his throat. "Sorry, Richard. Will milk be made available to us? Someone like Steve could choke to death on a dry sandwich."
"I have a low tolerance for dehydration, Sir." Robin added.
"I've seen her dehydrated, Sir." Steve sat up again. "It's pretty gross."
You wondered if that was true, or if he was just playing along. The things he said about her, you wondered if they knew each other. Probably not, you brushed off the thought. They were on complete opposite ends of the spectrum, there was no way they knew each other.
Principal Higgins scowled.
Eddie stood and raised his hands like he was trying to calm a wild animal. "Relax, I'll get it."
"Ah,ah,ah. Grab some wood there, Munson. You think I was born yesterday? You don't fool me for one minute. I'm not having you roaming these halls."
Eddie plopped back into his seat with a defeated sigh. It was worth a shot.
"You." He pointed at Steve. 
He eyed up the other students, skipping over Eddie as he decided who else was most suitable to leave. You sank into your seat. You did not fancy having some alone time with Steve. Steve stared directly at the Principal before darting his eyes to the right where Nancy was sat, signalling for him to pick her. She sat up to make herself more evident. 
Higgins ignored them and pointed a finger at you. "And you. There's a soft drinks machine in the faculty lunch room."
You broke into a cold sweat. This was going to be the most awkward ten minutes of your life. Either Steve was just going to pretend you didn't exist, or he was going to absolutely grill you. You hoped for the former. 
As you reluctantly got out of your seat, Steve held out a hand to the others for money. Nancy took out a change purse from her bag and handed him fifty cents. Robin does the same with the loose change in her jeans pocket. Eddie fished through his coat pockets. He found some assorted change, crumpled gum wrappers, some loose tobacco and a screw. He handed it all to Steve. 
Steve made his way out, not even looking to see if you're following him. You do, of course, but you lagged behind him, not feeling particularly comfortable being alone with him. You counted your steps as you walked, fiddling with the delicate chain around your neck. It was a simple design: just your name written with gold, cursive lettering. But it was the only jewellery you never took off. Your parents had bought it for you when you had started cheerleading at eight years old. It was a reminder of when life was much more simple, when you believed that your parents actually loved each other, that they loved you. 
A minute passed and you already couldn't stand the silence. You dreaded it, but you knew this would probably be the only opportunity you would get to hash out your grievances.
"Why do you hate me?" A forward start, but at least it's a start.
"You know why."
"Look, what Billy did wasn't my fault --"
"Of course it is. If you hadn't been there in the first place he wouldn't've showed up."
"Hey, I didn't even tell him I was going to that stupid party. He was there anyway. If you hadn't come over and butted into our argument, maybe you wouldn't have that split lip."
"My parties aren't stupid."
"Is that seriously all you took from that?"
"No..." He paused. After hearing your side of the story, he was beginning to feel like a fool. "What were you guys even arguing about?"
You sighed. "Billy and I had plans to go to this drive in movie theatre. I don't think he wanted to watch a movie though, I think he was just hoping to get lucky." The two of you had stopped walking. Steve looked at you intently, encouraging you to carry on. You shifted on your feet. "If I'm being completely honest I didn't really want to go, but then Carol asked me to go to your party and I took it as an excuse not to go with Billy. I knew he would be angry if I cancelled our plans last minute, so I told him I was sick. Biggest fucking mistake of my life."
"So you went to the party and Billy caught you out in your lie."
"Yeah. Turns out one of his friends had asked him to go but he'd declined 'cause we were going on a date. He accepted the offer once I'd cancelled our plans."
Steve started walking again. You followed next to him this time. "I know Billy is a bit of a shitbag, but why didn't you want to go on your date? I mean, it seemed like a good time."
There was no such thing as a 'good time' with Billy. He had his moments, sure, but he was as cranky as a wet hen. Time with him was like trying to swim with rocks on your back. He sucked all the fun out of everything until you started drowning. You didn't tell Steve that though. 
"I just wasn't in the mood to be around him, is all." You brushed him off. "But he's bringing it up all the time, and were arguing all of the time. Even in school."
"Is that why you're here today?"
His question made you pause. He stopped a couple of steps ahead of you and turned around when he saw you weren't next to him anymore. You played it off like you were itching your leg and jogged up to him. The two of you made it to the teacher's lounge. 
The first thing you noticed was that it was very brown. The floor and ceiling had the same white speckled tile that ran throughout the entire school, but everything else was just ... brown. Brown wallpaper, brown leather sofas, brown table, brown countertop. Even the fridge was brown. The vending machine was in the far corner.
"Why are you here?" You asked Steve, hoping he hadn't realised that you hadn't answered his question. 
"Me? I'm here because my father and my coach don't want me to blow my ride." He started feeding the change into the machine. "They think my intensity's for shit. You see, I have a different set of standards. I get treated different because Coach thinks I'm a star. So does my old man. But you know what? I don't care. I'm not a star because I want to be a star, I'm a star because I got good legs and reflexes. I'm like a racehorse. That's about how involved I am in what's happening to me."
You nodded, but you had a suspicion that that wasn't the whole truth. "Yeah, so why are you really here?"
Steve was annoyed that he hadn't managed to persuade you. "Forget it."
You studied the set of lockers on the other side of the room. You walked over to them out of curiosity, trying your luck with one of the doors. To your surprise it opened. 
Steve caught you out of the corner of his eye. "You really shouldn't be doing that."
Inside lay a set of keys attached to a green Hawkins High lanyard, a pack of cigarettes, a 'thank you teacher' mug, and a Prince's Purple Rain album on vinyl. Steve came up behind you, looking inside and letting the soda cans thunk loudly at the bottom of the vending machine.  
"This is a teacher's stuff?" He asked surprised.
"Yeah. Does this mean that they're actually human?" You laughed together for the first time.
Daringly, you pocketed the pack of cigarettes in your cardigan pocket and took the record. 
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. No, put them back." 
"C'mon Steve, when are you ever going into the teacher's lounge again? Besides, it'll give us something to do while were stuck in that god damned library."
You shut the locker door and brushed past him. You gathered up the soda cans, giving Steve his share to carry and made your way back to the library.
"It was pretty strange looking at teacher's personal shit, huh?" You said, examining the purple record sleeve.
Steve shrugged, he'd seen stranger things. "I went over to Coach's house for dinner once during the summer. It was really weird to see how he lives."
He paused, anticipating a question, but you just looked at him to carry on.
"His wife was fat. And one of his kids was in a wheelchair. It was kinda sad. He was a nice kid."
"If he invites you over to his house, why does he shit on you?" 
"He and my old man are working to get me a scholarship. It's not an economic issue. Scholarships make the newspaper. They think I have a shot at a full ride. They think I deserve a Big Ten school."
You simply nodded and walked through the library doors. The others were gathered in the corner by the comfy chairs. Eddie was holding a book opened to a page displaying a man with elephantitus to the nuts like he was reading children a bedtime story.
"How do you suppose he rides a bike?"
The clattering of soda cans on the table drew their attention away. They all walked over to grab a can. Before the others could take one, Eddie reached out and shook one furiously.
You look at him like he was crazy. Perhaps he was. "That's going to spray all over you."
"Not necessarily."
He put the drink back with the others and moved the cans around so than no one would know which was was shook up. 
"You're such a dingus." Robin bravely took a can first.
Everyone else followed before taking their seats and pulling out their lunches. You simply took out an apple, loosing your appetite after seeing a man with elephantitus to the nuts. You noticed Eddie didn't have any lunch as he surveyed everyone else's. 
"Where's your lunch?"
"You're wearing it." He winked. 
You curled your lip in disgust, but felt about as red as your apple. 
"You're nauseating." Nancy complained, opening her lunch.
"Look who's talking. You don't care what you put in your mouth." He eyed Nancy's lunch like she had just shown him a plate full of snails. "What is that?"
"Sushi."
"Sushi?"
"Rice, raw fish, and seaweed."
"You wont accept a guys tongue in your mouth, but you'll eat that?"
She scoffed impatiently. "Can I eat?"
"I don't know, give it a try."
The room went silent as everybody watched Steve pull out his lunch from a large brown grocery bag; three sandwiches, a family-sized bag of chips, an apple, a banana, a bag of cookies and a carton of milk.
"Are you really going to eat all that?" Robin asked in shock.
"No, I'm only going to eat half."
"What are you going to do with the other half?"
"Shoving it up Eddie's ass."
How charming. He reached for his can and everybody shrunk away, thinking it might explode. He cracked the tab. 
Nothing happened.
Robin took out a sandwich covered in saran wrap. She unwrapped it and pulled the bread apart, starting to work on it like a mad scientist. She tossed the meat away, blindly whipping it to the side. It slapped on the wall and stuck there. She reached into her sweater pocket and pulled out a bag of chocolate M&M's. She tore the bag open and dumped all of it on the buttered bread. Out of her coat pocket she pulled out a little baggie filled with Captain crunch cereal and sprinkled it over the M&M's. She closed the mess of a sandwich and took a huge bite. She noticed that everyone was watching her. 
"You are bizarre." Eddie thought Steve's lunch was bad.
She reached for her Pepsi to wash it all down. She put it to her mouth and popped it. The soda sprayed cleanly into her mouth. 
After the fizz was gone, she smirked at Eddie. "Nice try, dingus."
"What do you have?" He turned to you, watching take a bite into your apple.
You handed your bag over to him, rather than speaking with a full mouth. He started pulling things out. He pulled out a sandwich, a thermos of soup, which he opened and give a big whiff, and a bottle of water.
"Well Sweetheart, this is a very nutritious lunch. All the food groups are represented. Did your mom marry Mr. Rodgers?"
Eddie stood so he was front and centre of the room, all eyes on him. 
"This is my impression of life at our darling Sweetheart's house." He gestured to you and your face flushed.
"Hello, dear. I'm home from the coalmine." Eddie impersonated your father.
Eddie quickly played your mother. "Oh, hello, sweetie pie. Dinner's almost ready. I'm serving stuffing instead of potatoes." 
"My favourite!" 
His voice turned high and shrill, playing you. "Hi, Dad! Yippee, you're home! I danced in a skimpy skirt in front of hundreds of people today. I went to church and I wrote Grandma a letter. Now can I have a pen pal?"
"Dear, isn't our daughter swell?" 
Quiet and motherly. "Yes Dear, isn't life swell?" 
Eddie mimed your mother kissing your father, then father kissing mother, and then your father punching your mother in the face. Suddenly it was not so funny anymore. 
Your eyes were wet. You hated how much that hurt. It wasn't his words that hurt you, it was how much you wished it were true. 
You bravely stood up. "No, it's more like --"
"Dad? Is it okay if I shoot heroin?"
You lowered your voice, playing your father. You held an imaginary newspaper in your hands, not taking your eyes off it and pretending that you weren't paying attention. "If it'll make you happy, pumpkin." 
You extended your fingers and blew on them, doing your mother and her fresh nail polish. "What are you talking about, Frank?! How's she going to wear her Sunday dress with holes in her arms? We are going to church aren't we?
"It's okay. Never mind. I won't be a junkie." You said sadly.
"Now, just wait a minute. If you want to be a junkie--" 
"I'm not going to be the only woman at the congregation with a junkie daughter. Now what about church?" Your mother said.
"Go by yourself!" Said your father.
"With pleasure! I'm taking Y/N." 
"Over my dead body!"
"I love her more than you do!"
"Go to hell!"
Everyone looks at you with a hint of sympathy. Even Eddie.
"Do you wish they'd get a divorce?" He asked.
"No."
"Why not?" 
"I'd have to live with one or the other. And I don't know which one is worse." You laughed, but there was no humour behind it.
"Whose next?" Eddie ask, like he didn't already know he was going to single out Steve. Eddie pointed at him. "You're next."
"Yeah, no thanks."
"You an orphan?"
"I don't need to dump on my parents. Especially when they're not here to defend themselves." Eddie gave him a look like he was being chicken.
"What about your family?" Steve asked Eddie. He wanted him to have a taste of his own medicine.
"Mine? Real simple, pal."
He climbed onto the table, really setting the stage and getting himself into character. His eyelids lowered and his body moved clumsily, like he was drunk. "Stupid, worthless, no good, goddamn freeloading, son of a bitch, big mouth, know-it-all, asshole, jerk!"
He stands up straight, crossing his arms and raising the pitch of his voice. "You forgot ugly, lazy and disrespectful." His mother said.
"Shut up bitch!" He smacked the air, hitting his invisible mother. He yelled it so loud you were worried Higgins was about to storm through the door.
As his father, he threw a punch. Eddie dramatically dropped from the table and fell to the ground. He stood up, brushed himself off and took a bow. The show was over. 
"Then they make me work to pay off the dentist for the teeth he busts."
"Is that for real?" Nancy looks like she's going to start crying for him. 
"You wanna come over some time?"
She didn't want to believe that something like that could happen to anyone. Even someone as vexing as Eddie. Nancy decided then to never complain about her parents again.
"That's part of your image. I don't believe a word." Steve brushed him off. His re-enactment hadn't moved him at all. 
You wondered if he was right. You had been so truthful about yours, you would feel ashamed if he had lied about his.
Eddie actually looked hurt. "You don't believe it, huh?" 
He whipped off his red shirt and pulled up the sleeve of his black t-shirt. He shoved his arm in Steve's face, displaying a grotesque purple scar. Steve recoiled away from it, but Eddie forced him to look at it. You subtly tugged at the sleeve of your cardigan. You could feel the bruises of Billy's fingers purpling on your wrist.
"You believe that? It's about the size of a cigar." Eddie spoke through gritted teeth. "That's what you get in my house when you spill paint in the garage."
Eddie was breathless with anger. His muscles were tensed up so tightly he thought he was going to give himself a full-body cramp. He needed something to calm himself down. Luckily, he knew just the thing.
~~~~~
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~~~~~
Taglist: @cruwushes @the-ch0sen-on3 @namelesshumanperson @ali-r3n @cadence73 @munsonssweets @ahoyyharrington @mewchiili @yourdailymemedelivery @httpsunflowers @b-irock @coolglittercornbae @sav12321 @cumslutforaemond @siriuslysmoking @learninglinesintherainn @peaches-roses-sins @lodeddiperrodrick @catherinnn @lilocapoca @minniedreamers @melaninjhs
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ddejavvu · 4 months
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pairing: daniel x reader (love actually)
summary: your neighbor is very enthusiastic about his new hobby, and you're tired.
a/n: there is no last name that i could find for daniel which really sucks </3 anyways i want to smooch him
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You're going to kill them. You're actually going to commit homicide, perhaps you'll even take one of those damn drumsticks and use it as the murder weapon. One through the eye would be a good start, right? You'll stick the other one where the sun doesn't shine.
Your slippers scratch noisily against the pavement leading up to your neighbors' front door, and you hear the incessant drumming grow louder the closer you get to their house. Finally you're on the porch, and you think something in your ears may have ruptured by now.
You raise a fist to the door, but quiet, polite knocking won't be heard over the racket inside. You have to pound against it instead, and you'd cringe at the aggression if it weren't necessary.
Ten seconds pass, and you're almost convinced that you've gone unheard despite your frantic knocking. The chilly winter air stings your ankles where your pajama pants have rucked up near your thighs, and you shimmy them back down your legs to rid your skin of goosebumps. Your sleep shirt is warm but not snow-worthy, and you seriously consider giving up to dive back into your warm bed. But sleep won't come unless the drums cease, and you're determined to get your rest.
You're nearing the twenty second mark, close to driving your car straight through their front door just to be heard, but you hear the soft click of a lock, almost inaudible over the drumming, and the door swings open. A rush of warm air hits you and your bones ache with cold, but you're quickly distracted from any trivial concerns such as hypothermia when you see the man standing in front of you.
He's nearly as tall as the doorframe, but he's got an air about him that's so gentle you'd have expected him to be a mouse in a kids' cartoon. His face is kind and his smile only helps, a soft, welcoming curve that feels just as cozy as the inside of his home.
Suddenly, the drumming doesn't seem so bad.
"Hello," He greets, his voice a deep timbre that carries warmth but not heat, a lilt to it that's not common in your region, "Can I help you?"
If you'd known you would be faced with the human embodiment of a crackling fireplace, gentle and cozy and irresistible, you might have chosen more respectable attire than pajamas. As it stands, you're on his front porch in slippers and flannel pants, so you inhale and square your shoulders, powering on regardless.
"Hello," You return the formality, desperately searching for some of the guiding fury you'd felt only seconds ago, "I know it's broad daylight, but I worked the night shift last night, and- well, I was trying to get some sleep. I was wondering if the aspiring musician could postpone their practice for a little while?"
When you get to the point of your visit the man's face drops, his lips turning down and his eyes glinting with something akin to worry. It's sweet and undeserving of the rage you'd wanted to inflict on him when you'd first set out, and you tamp down guilt that tries stabbing at your heart.
"Uh, give me just a moment," He chuckles weakly, still supported by background percussion, "I'd call for him to stop but he wouldn't hear me. Wait, uh- y'can step in if you'd like," He steps away from the door, holding it open for you. You feel awkward accepting the invitation, but you'd feel worse declining it, so you let him usher you inside, relishing the warmth that surrounds you as he shuts the door on the cold outside.
He starts down the hallway and you linger in the entryway, stuck between looking around and keeping to yourself. You finally give and glance to your left, catching sight of a framed picture on a table in front of a trinket tray.
"Sam-o," The man calls, but despite being right outside his door, the drummer doesn't hear him, "Sam! I'll-" He turns back towards you, a sheepish grimace on his face, "I'll go in."
"Right," You nod, happy to turn back towards the photo you'd seen earlier while he wrangles who you're sure is a very surly, very rebellious teenager in the midst of his rock 'n' roll phase.
The picture is of the man and a little boy, presumably his son, taken on a dock overlooking a lake. The boy is holding a fish that's almost too small to be seen, but his grin is wide, making up for the less-than-impressive catch. He's clearly proud of himself, and the man looks to be as well, holding him up with an equally large smile.
They look like a very happy family, and your heart beats faster at the endearing display. The drums cease from the other room, and you hear muffled voices take their place.
You notice more photos of the boy scattered around, but no other children; perhaps he's an only child. You don't have time to evaluate much more, though, because the man returns, and tucked beneath his arm is the boy from the pictures.
Where you were expecting a jaded seventeen-year-old rockstar, you see a four-foot batman, the black-and-grey hoodie zipped up over blue jeans. His apologetic grin is very unlike the surly protector of Gotham, though, and you consider telling his father to buy him a CareBears sweatshirt next time.
"Hello," He nods, voice soft but polite as his dad stands beside him, "I'm sorry my drumming woke you."
"He's practicing for a big showcase," His dad informs you, a large hand squeezing the boy's shoulder encouragingly, "But he can practice tomorrow."
"Oh," You're nearly lost for words, caught in a whirlwind of unexpected fondness for the pair, "I- I don't mean to slow you down, I'm sorry. It's just that the Christmas season is very busy at work, and I need to be in tomorrow morning. So- uh, my schedule is a little thrown off."
"It's alright," The man smiles, kindness etched into every crease of his face, "Sam has plenty of other opportunities to practice. And I'm- Daniel, by the way."
Daniel holds his free hand out, the other still comfortingly closed around Sam's shoulder. You're quick to join them and the handshake is firm, Daniel's hand much larger than your own, and much warmer to boot.
"My goodness, you're frozen," He chuckles sympathetically, a chill surely lingering on his skin the same way his warmth does on yours, "Would you like a cup of tea? I can brew chamomile, it'll make you sleepy."
Basic etiquette would be to kindly refuse, to not overstay your welcome, and to thank the boy for postponing his drum practice. But your still-racing heart is not one to listen to logic or etiquette, and you find yourself bashfully accepting his offer.
"Oh- um, if it's no trouble. Chamomile sounds nice."
"No trouble at all," He smiles, patting Sam on the shoulder, "Would you like some tea, Sam-o?"
The boy's button nose scrunches, and he shakes his head, "No thanks. I'll be in my room."
Daniel chuckles, and you find yourself grinning with shared amusement as the boy retreats.
"No drumming!" Daniel calls after him, and Sam turns in the doorway, teasing exasperation on his features.
"Alright, no drumming. Y'know, I'm trying to get a girl to fall in love with me," Sam informs you, speaking with the matter-of-factness that you'd expect from a professor, not an elementary schooler, "But I think learning to play the drums was a waste of time."
Daniel's brow furrows, probably lamenting the hours of noise he'd endured for nothing "Oh, why?"
"I could have just offered her tea instead," The boy grins, slipping into his room before either of you can stop him.
His childishly brazen comment leaves you and Daniel stiff with awkwardness, and you feel his eyes upon you. You meet his incredulous gaze with one of your own, and a breathy laugh escapes from his lips as he lingers near the kitchen.
"Well. Perhaps I've shown him Titanic one too many times as of late. But if you're going to fall in love with me, I think I should know your name first."
His smile is cheeky and you run with it, letting him lead you to a kitchen island. You sit at one of the stools as he occupies himself with a kettle, retrieving a box of chamomile tea from a nearby cupboard.
"I'm Y/N," You laugh, "And if you're able to help me get some sleep before work in the morning, there's a very good chance that I will fall in love with you."
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geodethecrow · 3 months
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its probably bad that i want to go sit in the corner of the guard room and cry for old times sake
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teamdarkweek · 5 months
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Add E-123 Omega to your Medieval AU - he could be a possessed suit of armour, which is fabulously gothic.
Add E-123 Omega to your Rock Band AU - he can be the percussionist and the percussion instruments. He would love the gong. He coulr fire rounds of bullets and drum very fast.
Add E-123 Omega to your High Fantasy magic world - animated rockforms, statues and carvings for benevolent or malicious deeds are myths across the world.
Add E-123 Omega to your hearty winter stew - he is rich in iron, especially handy for the plant-based stock, and he imparts a rust-ic flavour.
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