#like a guestbook for your life

[starleska]

stop all this wholesome >:( I wanna know your hcs on Dark!Wally. Explore how evil he is. What kinda horrible agenda he has goin on. Your choice if its still a x reader im just curious how you'd interpret it- ... Dont feel forced to do so btw feel free to ignore this if it aint yer cup of tea ToT

hahahaha, this gave me a great laugh!! you've caught me, anon - i am very much a fan of evil, devious, villainous, morally bereft and just plain dreadful characters. you'll see from my f/o tracker that i'm quite the bad guy connoisseur - i just haven't explored that with Wally yet because we know so little about what his agenda is!! it's Wally's ambiguity that makes him so fun to play with;;;

i'd love to fill this out with some potential theories, if you'll humour me 😉 gonna pop this under a spoiler tag as well just in case this speculation turns out correct, and for the warnings!!

content warnings for potential Welcome Home spoilers, scopophobia, stalking, murder, cannibalism, and cults:

Dark!Wally (or potentially, just Wally) Darling headcanons:

⭐ Wally is using us as food. ever since we found out about Wally eating with his eyes, i haven't been able to get this idea out of my head. everything from everyone looking up at the tracker on the website, to Wally watching us from the other side of the screen, has me wondering exactly why he loves us so much, and why he seems happy to engage with all of us pouring in to look at the site. i'm wondering if Wally is something of a psychic cannibal - someone who is able to devour essence through attention, particularly through eye contact. there is something he's getting from us interacting with him on the website, and i feel like his love is of the possessive variety...he needs us for something that we don't understand yet. ⭐ Wally 'fed' his neighbourhood friends to his Home, and is play-acting as if his friends are still alive by interacting with us. some eagle-eyed fans noticed recently that in one image, Wally's armchair has a stitched-on patch that looks suspiciously like Barnaby's skin. likewise, there's a very strange file name on one of the drawings Wally did on the Guestbook, in a comment talking about Eddie, where he says he 'runs too much'. we know that Home is alive, and that Wally talks to Home. we also don't know why Wally's house is the only one with apparent sentience. my question is...how is Home fuelled? and why is Wally the only one talking to us through the Guestbook if his puppet-self is alive - where is everyone else? my (very thin) speculation is that Wally may have sacrificed his friends to keep Home alive, but suffered a mental breakdown as a result, and wants to preserve their old life through the website as if nothing is wrong. ⭐ Wally is a vain attention hog who wants to be back in the spotlight. this one is bare-bones, but hear me out - this can go a couple of ways! if we choose to believe the Wally speaking from within the website is, somehow, a sentient puppet (or his consciousness is infused with the website), we could also believe that he may miss his apparently peaceful, love-filled life from another time. perhaps Wally was alive during the original run of Welcome Home, and somehow remained alive following its cancellation. perhaps he feels spurned now he's no longer the friendly neighbourhood host of the television show long-forgotten to the public...where better to try and gain a new audience than online, under the guise of a restoration project? we could even make a potential cult leader argument here... again, this is all pure speculation!! we have no idea at all what Wally's agenda is at this stage, and that's a good thing;; it's going to be loads of fun learning more about Wally and what his intentions are. i'd love to hear people's theories 😉

#wally darling #welcome home #welcome home arg #welcome home spoilers #welcome home theories #tw: scopophobia #tw: stalking #tw: murder #tw: cannibalism #tw: cults #starleskasks #starleskawrites #starleskatalks

[butternaife]

no time at all!-- PILOT

Welcome Home + reader

warnings: derealisation, could cause paranoia, not proofread lmao

notes: so here's the first little drabble of the story I'd mentioned earlier! I'm not new at all to writing, but please keep in mind this is the first story I've posted to Tumblr, so the formatting could suck really bad. 

I have SO many ideas for what I want to continue this with, please tell me if you want to see more. thanks for reading!!  please please please rb if you're able :3

part 2 is posted!

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The sounds of the coffee shop around you filled the room; the everyday hustle and bustle of footsteps, casual chatter, and the clinking of porcelain cups were a familiar comfort, and god knows you needed it right now.

The face of the website you'd had open for several days now stared at you (through you?), the direct eye contact of the cartoon puppet mascots making you squirm in your seat.

Welcome Home! It said in bright pastel letters and a font you didn't recognize, though it sparked a deep sense of nostalgia in you; the whole concept did. In fact, that was the whole reason you’d found yourself falling down this rabbit hole of researching, trying any kind of letter combinations in the web address, scrolling through every page you could access with all the text highlighted.

You knew the secrets: the hidden messages, the png title responses in the guestbook, the audio mp4… and it thrilled you.

You hadn't grown up watching the infamous puppet show, of course, you doubt anyone has. Hell, part of you agreed with the people saying it didn't ever exist and all of this was just some online creepy pasta goosechase. Even though, it was so fun to play along, right? To be part of the community, or to be part of the joke, it didn't matter at the end of the day.

Whatever circumstances brought you to wherever you were mentally, and here to this cafe physically, this puppet show had you wrapped around its finger; you didn't really know if you loved the mascots, with their fun, bright designs and their bubbly personalities; something akin to what you'd grown up with, like you'd known them your entire life– or if they terrified you. The same traits that had made them so endearing made them so devoid of life, so lonely and cold when you’d think about it too long. Made to be loved by an audience just to be erased from history entirely- all to be excavated now, alongside these grotesque secrets and mysteries… like it was hidden for a reason. (Exciting, right?)

You scrolled absent-mindedly through the Neighborhood page, looking through all the biographies of the characters, picking apart the text in any ways you could, though you can only command-all and highlight for so long before it’s just a desperate attempt made in vain.

you already knew all the secrets

Home is where the heart is and Welcome Home's residents are the heart of the neighborhood. Even if you don't live there, you're still one of its most important denizens! But don't worry, with the help of this colorful array of neighbors, it'll feel just like home in no time at all!

Yeah, yeah, whatever, they love me.

What used to put a pit in your stomach didn't really do all too much now. The immersiveness wears off after a while. It used to fill you with questions: “am i important to them as the viewer? Are they sentient enough to understand? If they are… how do they feel about it? About me?”

Losing yourself in the story was easy initially, but the meandering possibilities became meaningless prompts. It was just a slogan now.

Your cursor hovers over the titular Home, a second delay in hesitation. Even if nothing else sent a chill down your spine, Home would never fail to unnerve you.

You click.

You're greeted by Wally, the PNG of him painting, the one you see plastered over every blog or post regarding Welcome Home. it was silly of you to expect anything else.

You felt yourself ease back into your chair; there aren't any more secrets to discover until the website is next updated.

As you half-heartedly scroll to click on the Good Bye!, a mystery in itself, you saw it.

Wally’s eyes had just followed your mouse, even by just half an inch, you Swear To God you saw them move.

An overwhelming tremor of sudden panic took over your body; you felt your heart fall deep into your stomach. With a loud thunk, you slammed your laptop closed. You felt the stares of concern burn into your back from the other patrons of the coffee shop, but you didn't care. Hoisting yourself up, laptop in tow, you hurry out through the door, only the greeting bell breaking the apprehensive silence youd left behind you.

Its nothing, you were just staring too long,

you'd thought, though partially drowned out by the sound of your footsteps and the deafening beating of your heart.

Of course you got freaked out, you were looking to be scared, so you came up with something to be scared of. That's all it is; made up.

It didn't really happen.

You had to tell yourself this several times as you walked to your car, trying to shake the image out of your head.

It's not real.

#welcome home #welcome home fanfic #welcome home x reader #wally darling x reader #wally darling #welcome home arg #no time at all!

[curiositydooropened]

My Whole Life, Too

Seven years after you've left Hawkins, a beautiful day for a wedding in New Mexico brings up old feelings. You're hoping to make the most of it with the comfort of best friends.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader, previous Steve Harrington x Reader

Wordcount: 8,419

Warnings: smut & smut adjacent (minors DNI, thanks!), angst, lots of gushy friendship talk, weddings, drinking, mentions of drugs and cigarettes, so much guilt, Steve Harrington slander, lovin' both the boys, fluff, oh and Jancy

Navigation • Masterlist

---

January 1994 - Albuquerque, NM

The pale blue chiffon of your dress wrinkled in the car, and your mouth tasted of wax from when the peachy pink lipstick clipped your teeth and smeared over your chin a few minutes earlier. You’d scrubbed at it with a wet forefinger, scrutinizing your reflection in an oblong mirror beside the gift table, but you couldn’t help but lick at your front two teeth self-consciously.

You ankles ached under your weight in your new heels, and each burst of winter, mountain air prickled the stubble beneath your nylons, but you were rooted to your spot in the lobby, nearest the guest book, making eye contact with each and every wedding guest as they entered through the chapel doors. 

So far, several little old ladies in lace collared dresses eyed you up, and several families with too-many kids stumbled in from the cold. You hadn’t seen a familiar face since you arrived, and you couldn’t decide if that was a blessing or a curse.

From this vantage, you could barely see out into the parking lot, where snow was packed along the curve and inside oversized planters and the afternoon sun was just starting to dip low beneath the mountains, kissing everything in golds and roses. It was a beautiful day for a wedding.

Three teenagers entered, all three of them ducked over handheld video games, and just beyond you saw the swoosh of impeccable brown hair. Your heart thundered in your ears, mouth gone fully dry. You flattened clammy hands to the midsection of your dress and stood at full height to greet Steve Harrington.

Though, suddenly all of your rehearsed greetings had flown out of your mind. The only thing you could think of were the last things he said to you, the hurt blurring those big doe eyes, his mouth slightly agape, his fingertips grasping at your t-shirt as you released his shoulders and said goodbye. Well those things and Elvis’s Can’t Help Falling in Love, which had been playing on loop in this little lobby since you’d arrived.

A woman excused you out of her elbow-range as she signed the guestbook, sending you a little off-kilter and almost into a stunning satin-decked wreath, but you managed to catch yourself on the windowsill, cooling your palms as your prints came back fogged over. You ran a chilled hand over your face and released a breath you’d been holding for minutes and hoped to God this wasn’t a dry wedding.

That’s when you heard the familiar scold of a best friend. “Eddie, top-button. Robin, no more singing. Honestly, how old are you two?”

Nancy Wheeler entered looking tighter-wound than she was a month ago, when you’d last seen her. Her bangs were cut short, hair black, thin fingers busying themselves with Eddie Munson’s bolo tie. Eddie looked miffed by the action, like a school boy embarrassed by his mom, but he daren’t move a muscle lest he get smacked. Beside them, Robin Buckley adjusted a tie of her own, flattened the lapels of her velvet blazer against her chest. 

And it was just them, just the three, alone in the entryway, Nancy fussing over their appearances before perfectly manicured nails went to ensure her oversized earrings were still clipped to her lobes. You glanced around one last time for Steve, but found a parking lot full of old people and void of any handsome young men whose hearts you’d broken. With a deep breath, and a clench of your shaking fists, you took a step toward them.

“Hey, strangers.” 

Robin let out a shriek that sent a pen flying from gasps at the guest book, and when Nancy shushed her, she snickered and wrapped her long arms around you to breathe a greeting into your ear, all clove cigarettes and patchouli. “Hey, stunner. Missed you.” 

“You too,” you smiled and let her rock you into her hug. You were almost her height in your heels.

She released you, her hair sticking to your lipstick, and you reached out to melt the wax off the strands with your fingertips. 

“Have you seen him?” Nancy asked, slipping in between you to give you the tightest hug you’d ever received. 

Your heart jolted a little in alarm, glancing over her head to the parking lot beyond. Still no Steve. When you pulled away, you noticed Nancy stood on the toes of her own high heels, stretched to get a good view of the chapel behind you, and you realized she wasn’t talking about the same person. “I’m sure Jonathan’s getting ready with the other groomsmen. He hasn’t been out this way.” 

Nancy’s gaze met yours then, a harsh glare in blue, but you saw the fear in her eyes, wondered if your stare mimicked her own. She squeezed your forearm and shrugged, as though she could care less, as though she didn’t sit in your apartment last month downing glasses of wine and confessing her and Jonathan had had a Thanksgiving tryst for the first time in seven years. “Oh well,” she nodded toward the hall where the guests had begun to funnel. “Shall we?” 

Another gust of wind fanned your hair, ruffled your skirt, and you glanced one last time at the nearly vacant lot before a scraggly head of hair blurred your view. You blinked until Eddie’s smile came into focus, head tilted to meet your gaze. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” 

You breathed a nervous laugh and allowed his arms to envelope you in a hug. He was warm and a little damp under the arms, but distinctly Eddie, all murmured chuckles and cigarette smoke. But with your face buried into his hair, you sensed something else that made your heart stop, something familiar, something Steve.

“How long’s it been? Two years?” He asked, pulling away. He tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, and you noticed the purple scarring that etched his throat, just beyond too tight of a collar. He must have seen your gaze, because he reached up to unbutton the top button and loosen the tie, two strands of leather and a carved silver demon’s face. You snorted.

“Yeah, just about.” The last time you’d seen Eddie had been on a New Years ski trip to the Harrington’s time share. Your memories of that trip were fogged with White Russians and too much time in a hot tub. You remembered Eddie’s bare ass, stark white, when he’d been dared to make a snow angel.

“You look beautiful as ever,” he flashed you those sharp canines. 

“You don’t clean up bad yourself,” you smiled, though his compliment had fallen a bit on deaf ears. You hadn’t dressed up for him. 

“Hey, don’t sound so shocked.” He scoffed, adjusting the lapels of an old blazer. It looked a bit small for his shoulders, a bit tight, and you swallowed. Maybe that’s why he smelled of Steve, maybe he’d borrowed it.

A groan sounded from behind you, and you pulled your attention from Eddie’s shoulders to see Nancy impatiently tapping her clutch to her hip, just outside the chapel door. She gestured for the two of you to hurry, and you felt Eddie’s hand on the small of your back to follow you inside. 

Robin had already shuffled into a pew near the back and was thumbing through a hymn book. Nancy shoved you out of the way before shuffling in beside her. 

“Wheeler said Robin and I aren’t allowed to sit next to each other,” Eddie mumbled just over your right ear, and you snorted before pulling yourself into the seat beside Nancy. He followed.

She snatched the hymn book out of Robin’s hand and tucked it back in its pocket. “Could you sit still for like two seconds?” 

“Could you?” Robin snapped. “Jesus, Nance, how much coke did you do this morning?” 

Appalled, Nancy shushed her. You snickered. Eddie wrapped his arm over your shoulder to lean in. “You have coke? And you aren’t sharing?” 

“I knew I should have left you in Hawkins,” she reached past you to tighten his tie again.

You leaned back against his arm to make eye contact with with Robin, who flashed you a goofy grin, and for just a moment, you felt at peace. You didn’t need Steve to fall back into the chaos of this friendship. You didn’t need stolen moments of romance, you needed Robin’s raspy laughter and Nancy’s neurosis to keep you grounded, to remind you why you agreed to go in the first place.

“So how are you?” Robin asked, propping her elbow to the back of pew. 

Eddie reached his fingers to tickle her, and you smiled, shrugged.

“Heard you had a good time in Louisville,” she waggled her eyebrows and your heart sank to your knees. 

“Robin,” Nancy hissed. She knew the whole story, from your perspective. You’d gone to Louisville for a conference, invited Steve to join you for the weekend, didn’t expect him to say what he’d said, to request what he did. You hadn’t had a chance to talk to Robin about it. You should have known Steve would get to her first. 

“Steve says he’s sorry he couldn’t make it, by the way,” Eddie pitched in from beside you. 

You felt your entire body heat with embarrassment, and you turned to face a Cheshire grin. Did everyone know?

“Jesus Fuck, you two!” Nancy squealed, and a woman in front of you turned to shush you all loudly, covering the ears of a little boy. 

With a groan, you buried your face in your hands and accepted the squeeze and shake of Eddie’s arm around your shoulder, the vibration of his chuckle against your right arm. 

Nancy’s apology was cut short by the chime of the organ, and the shuffle of guests in their seats. You craned to see the minister at the podium, a man with a swoosh of brown hair that had you letting out a frustrated exhale. He wouldn’t be here, but apparently he’d haunt you.

The groom entered first, linked arms with his mother, and you almost didn’t recognize him. Argyle was tightly pressed into a handsome sky blue tuxedo, luxurious hair pulled back into a low pony tail. A handlebar mustache traced his upper lip, and you half-expected it to fall off when he bent down to plant a kiss to his mother’s cheek. She was crying already.

“If it’s any consolation, he told me he was staying home in solidarity with Dustin,” came a whisper to your temple. 

“What?” You turned to see Eddie frowning back to you, face the most serious you’d seen it in years. 

Eddie nodded sideways to the bridesmaids and groomsmen that had begun to file in two-by-two, arms linked and sleeves ruffled. You watched head after head of beautiful brunette women glide by in lavender. “Since Dustin and Suzie broke up.” Eddie explained into your hair.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe he didn’t shave for his best friend’s wedding.” Nancy scoffed under her breath beside you. 

Jonathan stood beside Argyle, warm smile stretched across his boyish features, just beneath the ghost of a mustache. It was clear he couldn’t quite grow one like the groom, tried as he might. He looked more like a French waiter in baby blue. You watched his eyes scan the crowd, and saw the smile widen when he spotted the four of you, and you joined Eddie in waggling your fingers his direction.

“Stop it,” Nancy snapped beside you, and you dropped your hand to your lap reflexively. 

You felt Eddie’s chuckle beside you again, warm, welcome. You turned to flash him a smile, and he winked. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, please rise.” The minister announced, and you all shuffled your bags to your seats to stand. 

You wobbled a little, sandwiched tightly between Nancy and Eddie, and you groped for his hand for balance until his grasp tightened around yours, firm and unyielding, another safe space.

The music changed tempo, and the organ sounded the first few chords of Elvis Presley’s Can’t Help Falling in Love. You heard humming in front of you, felt the thrumming of fingers against the back of your hand, and you smiled at your friends’ inability to keep quiet. A few notes in, the bride entered. 

Eden was a vision in white, hidden beneath a massive veil and more rhinestones than you’d ever seen. She waltzed in on her father’s arm, a portly man who looked like he’d been sucking on a lemon. He also donned a mustache. The detail made you smile, made you think of your own father, made you imagine yourself slow-stepping to the alter.

“Shit,” Nancy hissed from behind you, and you glanced to see her mopping at the tears forming in the corners of her eyes. You laughed and were glad to see Robin reaching around to envelope Nancy in a side hug.

Nancy didn’t do well at weddings. Not since her almost nuptials four years ago in Boston. She’d been a month out, crying mascara stains into steamed linens while you and Robin called florists and caterers and DJs. Pete was a nice guy, but he wasn’t the one. She couldn’t be the hard-hitting journalist she was with a mousy man like him under her thumb. It was right to set him free, and she knew it. 

You knew the feeling. You released a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, and the minister asked for you all to be seated. 

Eddie released your hand and slung his arm over your shoulders again to jostle Nancy. She sniffled and patted his hand. You gave a squeeze to the soft skin of her knee where her skirt split and exposed her nylons. 

“This better not be a dry wedding,” she muttered under her breath, and you laughed at the reflection of your own thoughts while the minister began reciting scriptures about love. 

—

You made it through the ceremony and down to the reception hall relatively unscathed, catching up with old friends and grateful to find many men behind an open bar. In fact, you were a whole three bites into your salad (and one glass of champagne in) before Eleven mentioned his name. 

“Where’s Steve?” 

A cherry tomato evaded your fork and bounced off rose colored linens. 

“Back in Hawkins like a loser,” Robin explained, crunching down on a crouton.

You tried and failed to do anything but stare at the food on your plate. 

“You guys are living together, right Eddie?” Will asked from across the table.

That caught your attention. You gaze shot to Eddie, who was already watching you, a sheepish look across wolfish features. He nodded and tongued at something in his molars, reaching for the beer bottle in front of him. “Uh, yeah. Since June.” He sipped. You watched the bubbles fizz in the amber liquid.

You supposed it had been an easy detail to miss in Louisville, what with all of the other ludicrous things Steve had spouted. 

“Get any time in the bathroom?” Mike snickered behind his own beer. 

Eddie smiled, shrugged. “Not really, but hey, beats paying out my ass in rent. You of all people should know that teachers don’t make dick for a salary, and turns out, neither do janitors, so…” He glanced sideways at you again before turning back to the salad in front of him. 

“Yeah, but I have a girlfriend who works for the government,” Mike concluded, tugging Eleven tighter under his arm. She rolled her eyes, but seemed pleased to belong to someone. 

You felt your own cheeks heat, and you went back to staring at your plate.

“Gross,” Robin managed between mouthfuls. 

“Are you and Steve…?” Eleven started, and panic rose in your chest, constricting your airflow, until you looked up and realized the girl was asking Eddie. He nearly choked on his own tomato, slamming his fist to his chest while Robin barked a laugh that stirred the attention of several tables nearby. 

“No, no,” Eddie wheezed, taking a chug of his beer. His hair shook around his face, and you noticed the shy smile building on the corners of his lips. “No, I’m not exactly Harrington’s type.” 

“Too emotionally available?” Nancy snipped from beside her brother. You shot her wide eyes, and she just shrugged, forking her own crouton between thin lips. Champagne made her bitchy. 

“Alright, enough about Dingus. He isn’t even here to defend himself.” Robin sighed, taking a sip from her own flute. 

You felt Eddie’s arm drape over the back of your chair again, the warmth of him mixing with the champagne that had begun to tingle the apples of your cheeks. “What about you, Robin? Any prospects?”

She sighed from your other side. “I have been talking to a girl in the Peace Corps.” There was trepidation to her tone.

“…but?” 

She glanced your direction and flashed a cheeky grin. “I, too, am into emotionally unavailable women.”

You picked up your rogue tomato and tossed her direction. She squawked and dodged it, and it rolled somewhere far off to be squished beneath a heel or kicked across the dance floor. 

“Hey, guys!” A cheerful greeting announced Jonathan’s arrival, and the man placed his hands on his younger brother’s broad shoulders. The table chorused a “Hello, Jonathan,” in greeting. Everyone but Nancy, you noticed. You made eyes at her, and she shot you a dirty look. 

“Dig the mustache, dude,” Eddie grinned, and you held back a snicker as Jonathan’s eyebrows raised.

He brought a hand up to scratch at the atrocity, and you noticed his gaze flicker toward Nancy. She remained stoic and focused on her first course. “Yeah? Argyle wanted us all to have a stache. He thought it’d be cool for pictures or something.”

“Yeah, man. It’s sick. I’ve been thinking about growing one myself,” Eddie scratched at the smooth skin above his upper lip, silver rings glinting in the center piece’s candlelight. You hadn’t noticed how full his lips were before, supple beneath a broad nose. He’d arrived clean shaven, boyish face carved away in harsh edges since you were kids. Now he was all strong jaw and defined cheekbones and full lips, a sparkle in his brown eyes. 

You must have made a face because he flashed you his canines again. “What? You don’t think so?” 

You shrugged. “I think it’d throw off your,” you gestured to his being with your champagne flute. “Vibe.” 

“Yeah,” Robin nodded. “Too Mercury. You’re much more of a Brian May.” 

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just compare me to the members of Queen,” Eddie grimaced and lifted his bottle to clink rims with your glass.

“Shit, that reminds me. I have to make a toast.” Jonathan groped for the breast pocket of his jacket, pulling out folded pieces of paper. 

“Where are the bride and groom?”

You all glanced around. The happy couple seemed to be anywhere but the close quarters of the reception hall. 

“I believe they’re consummating their vows,” Jonathan flashed a shy smile. 

Eddie clinked his glass to yours again, and you laughed before taking another sip. Will, Mike, and Eleven groaned. 

“Cheers to the happy couple.” Robin raised her own glass, which again drew the attention from several tables. 

Jonathan rolled his eyes. “Guess I better find them. I’ll catch up with you guys later, yeah?” And you waved him off. He left with the soft graze of his hand to Nancy’s shoulder. When you met her gaze, you notice her face had flushed a deep pink, and she fought back a smile with an eye roll.

—

The band tapped out the rhythm to a soft jazz tune for all the happy old couples in the room, and Mike and Eleven. You watched her curly head pressed to his gangly chest and wondered if that ought to have been you. If things were different, if you hadn’t have panicked, if Steve had showed. You could still smell him, close, warm, a ghost that lingered. 

With a sigh, you opened your eyes back to the harsh lighting and glanced sideways at Eddie’s jacket on the chair beside you. You were tempted to check the inner pocket, to look for some sort of monogram, proof that it was Steve’s. Eddie had slipped out the side door with the bride and groom and the Byers boys. He mentioned something about a wedding present, and flashed you the fattest joint you’d seen in years.

 You resisted the pull of the jacket and sipped from your water glass, a vain attempt to curb the steadfast champagne hangover.

“Will that ever be me?” Nancy lamented from beneath her own champagne flute, sunk back into her chair with slumped shoulders and crossed arms, far past the rigidity of the afternoon. Glazed eyes stared longingly onto the dance floor. Robin warmed her bicep with a soft hand. 

“Of course it will, Nance,” you sat forward in your chair to comfort her. “You’re brilliant and beautiful, and you’ll make someone the perfect wife someday.” 

She offered the softest smile on the corners of her pink lips. 

“After all, you’re emotionally available,” you compared with a pointed finger. 

Robin groaned and took another sip of her drink, something chock full of cherries. “Both of you are catches, damnit, and I will not sit here and let you talk shit about my friends in this way.” She prodded each of you until smiles cracked on all three of your faces and you let out soft laughs. 

The song ended in a burst of applause from dancers who shared sweet kisses and evacuated the dance floor. Mike and Eleven approached with blushed cheeks and smiles they couldn’t wipe off their faces, and the next song really picked up its tempo. Eleven found her seat again, but Mike stood beside his sister with an outstretched hand.

“Come on, Nance. I’m sick of watching you get bitchier and bitchier.” He offered with that signature Wheeler smirk.

“Fuck off,” Nancy shot, but she gripped his fingers and allowed him to pull her to the dance floor. 

You watched them with a laugh until you felt a hand wrap around the backside of you chair. Robin had leaned closer. She watched you with sad eyes, big and blue, something mischievous in them. “What?” You narrowed your gaze. 

“Steve’s an idiot.” She commented easily, as though his name didn’t feel like a direct hit every time. 

You sighed. “Robin.”��

“No, I’m serious. He’s cocky, and he’ll never learn. Of course you weren’t going to uproot your life for him.” 

You sucked in your cheeks to avoid the panic slamming behind your ribcage. Steve had told her everything, and for some reason, you felt like a bad friend from keeping it from her. Maybe you worried she’d take his side. 

“And he’s not here because he’s a chicken. So there’s no reason you shouldn’t be having any fun.” She pried the water glass from your hand and set it beside your empty flute. “Can’t feel hungover if you keep drinking.” 

You laughed and watched Eleven’s fervent agreement, brown eyes glowing. “This is a party.”

“What’re you drinking?” Robin prodded you with a long finger again, swishing her glass your direction. 

You crinkled your nose, watching the ice melt droplets to the side of her glass, which beaded and splattered, darkening the tabletop beneath each shake. You chewed through her words, realizing that she was right. Steve had chosen to bail. You were the better person here, showing up for your friend despite your worry, your anxieties. Sure, you had wanted to see him, hoped to patch things up, silently prayed for a heated makeup in a coat closet or your themed hotel room. But he wasn’t here, and you were. 

You straightened your posture, gave Robin a firm nod. “Dirty Shirley, please.” 

“Atta girl,” Robin grinned and pushed off from her seat to head to the bar. Eleven yelled for her to wait up and traipsed behind her, leaving you alone at the table with half-drank glasses and Eddie’s suit jacket. 

You stared at the black lapel, wondering if it looked familiar. You glanced upward at Mike and Nancy, laughing with each swing of their arms over their heads. You swallowed and trailed your fingers along the hem, gripped at the shoulder pad. You stared back at the soft material, albeit a bit tattered. Maybe it wasn’t Steve’s. Maybe it was just secondhand. You made to flip the left side over, to look for an inscription, when a voice startled your hand away. 

“Dance with me.” 

You clutched at your chest, attempted to calm your breath, and spun to see Eddie with an outstretched hand and a wide grin. “When did you get back?” 

“Two seconds ago,” he shrugged, waggled his fingers your direction. “Get up. I want to dance.” 

There’s no reason you shouldn’t be having fun. A smile tugging at your cheeks, you slipped your hand into his and allowed him to pull you to the dance floor. Only, when you reached the spot beside Nancy and Mike, the song ended and the tempo slowed again, something sweet and soft. Mike and Nancy High-fived. 

“Aw man, I was hoping for the fast one.” Eddie groaned, but he pressed a soft hand to the small of your waist and tucked you in tight, cheek pressed to your temple as you began an awkward, off-kilter sway, a bit too dramatic, outrageous. It made you laugh, and you felt his chuckle bubble against your chest. 

He was warm, but damp. His hair had been pulled back, low and loose at the base of his neck. Wet curls lined his cheeks and your own. He smelled of cigarettes and spearmint, and you pulled back to get a good look at his brown eyes, wide, but not blood shot.

“I thought you were going for a smoke,” you commented. 

He flashed a canine, shrugged. “I did. Nasty habit.” 

You cocked a brow. “I thought you were going to smoke.” You reiterated, glancing around the room to ensure the other guests hadn’t caught the inflection in your voice. You were pleasantly surprised to find Nancy tucked into Will’s chest. The poor boy’s eyes were bloodshot, and he had a slaphappy smile etched over his features. Nancy rolled her eyes at you, but she was smiling too.

“I let them have all the fun,” Eddie explained, his voice a low rumble against your chest.

You smiled, allowed yourself to drape a little closer, your own hand warm in his. “Why? This is a party, after all.”

His shoulder raised in a shrug under your palm. “Guess I’m growing up.” 

You pulled back again to see the sly smile carving into his cheeks, and you both laughed again before he tucked you back under his chin. 

—

You were swung around for six full songs, pink vodka and Sprite splashing the dance floor, and abdomen in stitches from raucous laughter, before you groaned about sore ankles and were all but carried back to your seat. You set your drink next to your discarded purse on the tabletop and slumped into your seat, cheeks flushed and aching. You hadn’t had that much fun in ages.

“So much for keeping your top-button done,” Robin commented as you approached.

You followed her point to Eddie’s bare chest. You hadn’t realized his bolo Demon had nearly slid off, buttons undone to expose a litany of scars around a smattering of dark curls. A few faded tattoos lended to the chaos, shiny. 

“It’s freaking hot.” He excused himself, slumping into the seat beside you, that taunting jacket swaying under his weight.   

“Eddie, I didn’t know you were such a voracious dancer,” Nancy waggled her eyebrows over her own drink. 

Eddie flashed his signature grin and pointed a finger her direction. “You’re next, Wheeler. After I catch my breath.” His chest was heaving. The last number was upbeat, somewhat of a swing, and he definitely prided himself in attempting to throw you around. It was sloppy, to say the least, but fun. 

“Watch your legs, Nance,” you rubbed at a Charlie horse smarting at your calf from your heels. “He’s a kicker.” 

“I am not!” Eddie gawped, and you squealed when he reached to encircle your ankle and pull it into his lap. Surprisingly agile fingers pulled your strap from its buckle, and he slipped your shoe to the ground, relief flooding swollen toes. You rolled your ankle in his grasp, and strong hands melted the muscles of your calf, coaxing out the tight knot that resided there. 

You were a little light-headed, and the buzz of alcohol made it difficult to contain a sound of delight. You clenched to stop yourself from moaning, and hissed when your calf tightened further.

“Relax, will you?” Eddie mumbled, all tease. 

You laughed and settled your shoulders, slid further down the cool metal chair.

He released one leg and tapped the other, and you complied, trying to ignore the prickle of gooseflesh beneath his knuckles as they grazed your ankle. 

You hadn’t been pampered like this in months, not since Steve offered you an early morning favor you couldn’t refused. You felt your cheeks warm, and you licked the cherry from your bottom lip, watching the glint off Eddie’s rings with each stroke, eyes unfocused. It was definitely the alcohol talking, but you’d always felt safe in Eddie’s hands, cared for, well-looked after. 

He tilted his head to face you, curls falling around his face. He shook them out of big, brown eyes, cheeks creasing in a smile. “Better?” 

You hummed a thanks and tucked your toes back around the leg of your chair, out of his grasp. 

You watched, breathless, as his eyes raked your form, his own cheeks flushing, before he slapped his hands to his knees and huffed a breath. “Ready, Nance?”

Nancy groaned, but pushed herself to her feet, downing the rest of her cup before she allowed Eddie to drag her out onto the dance floor. You never noticed how tall he was, slender yet firm, dwarfing Nancy’s tiny frame as he took her petite hand into his, his other hand wide against her lower back. 

“Feeling better?” Robin pulled your attention. She had mischief in her eyes, and she jiggled her glass in the air between you. 

She was feeling toasty, you could tell by the rouge of her cheeks, the stained of her lips. Mike and Eleven spoke in giggles behind hands, playing Will at a game of Go-Fish with hole-punched cards he’d procured at some point. Jonathan sat beside them, stoned as all Hell, with a silly grin just beneath that God awful mustache. You felt warm, you felt at home. And for the first time in seven years, that feeling didn’t require Steve. 

You released a shy smile, unable to hide it, and lifted your glass to clink with her own. “Much. Thank you.”

—

The bride and groom left in a flurry of sparklers, tucked into a bright yellow van, waving their goodbyes with blown kisses and dazed looks on their faces. The guests made their exits into breath-steaming cold, and you found yourself against the frigid hood of your car, sipping a stolen Dirty Shirley with Eddie’s jacket thrown over your shoulders. Grenadine dripped from a maraschino cherry, sticky-sweet, as Eddie lifted it from your glass and popped it between plump lips. It burst between his molars, and he procured the stem from between his front teeth. 

“Can you tie it into a knot?”

His brows furrowed into the most dramatic scold you’d ever seen, and he tossed the stem to the ground between your feet. “I’m not giving away all of my secrets.” 

You warmed at the insinuation and fingered around melting ice for the second cherry, avoiding his gaze. When you grasped the stem, he elbowed your side, almost causing you to fling it from the cup. He chuckled at the indignant noise that fell from between your lips. 

“Sorry,” he grinned, and you noticed his eyes lingered on your lips when you put the cherry in your mouth. 

You both looked away, facing out at the winter night. The stars were brighter here, sky bigger. Shirley had warmed your insides, and Eddie’s jacket had warmed you out. You placed cold fingertips to the embroidered letters on the inside pocket, pretended you couldn’t feel a cursive SFH. 

“So,” Eddie mumbled, reaching into the jacket pocket at your hip. You jumped under his touch, and he procured a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, shaking it your direction. “Want a smoke?” 

You declined the offer, tossing your cherry stem into your glass while the fruit popped syrupy sweet between your teeth, soaked with the sting of vodka. 

“Alright, I’ll be right back though.” He nodded off toward the side building, courteous. Before he stepped away, though, he turned to face you, scratching at the back of his neck. You noticed a soft blush burning at his cheeks, the cold having already nipped his nose a soft pink. “Hey so, would you maybe want to come back to my room with me?”

You buzzed on his words, the softest he’d spoken, the smallest he seemed. You chewed on the cherry and swallowed with a smile, but before you could respond, he clarified. 

“I mean, you know because I have that fridge full of mini-bottles of alcohol and peanuts, and the room’s on Harrington’s card, so we really can’t let that go to waste.”

You hoped your face didn’t falter from the sound of his name, his ever-presence. You swallowed again, took a the final few sips of your drink, watered down, and shrugged. “Sure, Eddie.” 

“Great,” he breathed, all fog. “See you in a minute?” 

You nodded. “I’ll be here.” And he disappeared around the corner, pulling a cigarette between his lips. Maybe you should have joined him, you could have used the nicotine to calm your sudden nerves. You dumped your ice beside you, water splashing your nylons and crossed your arms over your chest, one again feeling for the soft embroidered letters. You closed your eyes and tipped your head back.

Had he been there, you might be doing the same right now, hunkered under his jacket, waiting for a quick smoke before he took you back to his room. Steve had always been warm hands and lingered kisses, flirtation, toeing the line. With Steve it was always about not getting caught, but not caring if you did. It was young and reckless, and now you were older and more responsible, and terrified of settling down. 

“Hey, babe. Will and I are tucking in for the night,” Robin approached with Will linked to her arm. He looked exhausted, shoulders slumped, pupils still slightly blown.

You raised your brows at Robin. “And Nancy?” 

Robin cracked a sly smile. Will groaned in disgust. 

“Good for her,” you snorted. 

Robin nodded, pushing Will in the direction of her car with the promise of pizza. She turned to you with an arm outstretched, ready to accept your tight hug. “Will I see you soon?” 

“I hope,” you shrugged. “Come see me for your birthday?” 

“Hawkins,” she sighed into your ear, squeezing you tight. All warm and patchouli and Robin. “But I’ll be in DC around Easter. Can we meet then?” 

You were that age, where you scheduled time with your friends, where you didn’t have fun anymore, where life had begun to slow down. You swallowed and pulled away, holding her padded shoulders at arm’s length. “Robin?” Your pulse began to quicken.

“Yeah, babe?” 

You glanced over her shoulder at a skyward billow of smoke. “I’m going back to Eddie’s room with him.” 

Her eyes widened, and you worried it might be judgement, disappointment, until her lips cracked into a grin. “Holy shit.” She laughed. 

You nodded. “Holy shit.” 

“Tell me every gory detail, please? Call me the moment you get home.”

Your heart fluttered at the idea of details, of Eddie’s rumbled voice, of cigarettes and spearmint and cherry. Your ankles wobbled and Robin caught you with a laugh.

“You good to drive?”

Eddie was. You didn’t think you saw him drink anything after the beer. He toasted with water.

You tightened the jacket around yourself, thumbing at the letters on the inside pocket. “Robin, do you think…” You weren’t even sure what you were asking. “I mean, they’re roommates.” You huffed, gesturing off in Eddie’s direction. 

Robin rolled her eyes, gave your wrists a tight squeeze. “The three of you are consenting adults,” her voice rasped with exhaustion, the end of a great night. “You asked Steve to come, and he didn’t. That’s on him.”

You felt your cheeks warm. Steve really did tell her everything. 

“Tell me something.”

You hummed, glancing over her shoulder at Eddie’s approaching frame.

“Do you want to marry Steve?” 

That familiar panic clawed at your chest, and you staggered further into her, the mountain air creating static cling between your nylons and the chiffon of your skirt. It had been a question you’d been asking yourself over and over again for months now, a question that provided you with nothing but hurt, confusion, a question for people your age. 

You grit your teeth, stood up straight, shook your head. “No. At least, not right now.” 

She smiled at that, another sweet, unexpected smile, one bathed in mischief. “Good. It’s important to have fun while you’re still young.” 

—

Eddie lead you into his room in a flurry of apologies, lifting an explosion of clothes off various pieces of furniture to shove into his suitcase. The room was large, too opulent for Eddie’s taste, with pastel wallpaper and a balcony overlooking snow-topped mountains. Or, you’d assumed it would in daylight. Currently, honeyed street lamps glowed at gauzy curtains, the city was pitch black beyond and below.

The thing that struck you the most was the double beds, one pristine and pressed, the other haphazardly shoved together, a crease where Eddie’s body had lain the night before. Steve had booked the room for two. You wondered how long ago, and at what point he changed his mind. 

“Ta-da,” Eddie gestured to the open space before giving the grand tour. “Bathroom,” all peach marble and gold fixtures. “Television, with pay-per-view.” He waggled his eyebrows. “And… snacks.” He swung open the door to the mini fridge and reached in to pull out a few mini bottles of vodka. They clinked against his silver rings. 

Anxiety bubbled in you, that familiar precipice of a storm. It tingled in your fingertips, thundered your heartbeat in your ears. It was electric like static shock clinging to your nylons. You took a few uneasy steps forward, coughed a laugh. 

Eddie tossed the liquor bottles to the unmade bed and tugged at the Demon medallion around his neck. It was barely on by now, scooped neck of a white tank top visible low on his chest. Eddie was rough around the edges, sticky, stretched like taffy over wiry limbs. He moved with umph, a cartoon character. He pulled his bolo tie over his head and deposited it to the bedside table nearest a phone, a lamp, a pad of paper with the hotel’s logo. 

“Good for Nancy and Jonathan, huh?” He commented, stirring your attention back to the present, back to the fun evening you had, removing the pressure of it all. 

You laughed, tossed your clutch to a side table, leaned against a wall to unbuckle shoes and release your aching toes. “I know, right? She needed it.”

“Did you know they hooked up over Thanksgiving?” Eddie offered like a secret, rolling his sleeves and unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way. The tank top beneath clung to bits of him that sweat through, see-through, exposing bits of purpled flesh, like Steve’s.

You sucked in your cheeks and wiggled your toes against the carpet, strode to the mini fridge to find a bag of M&Ms. “Yeah, I’m sure I’ll here about tonight for the next three months.” You shook the bag his direction, and when he held his hands out to catch it, you tossed and grabbed yourself another bag. 

“What? You don’t think they’ll be together forever after this?” Eddie snickered, tearing open his bag from the center. The plastic split and a few candy-coated chocolates pelted the carpet, but he kicked them under the unmade bed and threw himself onto it with all of the flair for dramatics he was famous for. The comforter sighed under him.

You snorted, shrugged, tore open the corner of your own bag, and crawled to rest against the headboard beside him. You popped a green one into your mouth, and a brown. They tasted a bit stale, and odd refrigerated, but the crunch between your teeth was satisfying enough.

“Hey, so,” Eddie pulled himself upward and shifted onto his side to face you, all long limbs and chocolate breath, and you turned to catch watchful brown eyes. “I know I’m a thousand percent going to regret asking this,” he licked the corner of his plump, pink lips. “But what exactly happened in Louisville?” 

You nearly choked. Eddie laughed as you sputtered, and he darted from his spot with an apology on his lips to pull a sealed plastic water bottle from the fridge. You laughed with him, tears forming at your eyes while you twisted the cap off and sat up for a drink and a gasp of fresh air. 

“That bad, huh?” He settled beside you again, his surprisingly weight teetering you on your side. 

“Steve didn’t tell you?” You sipped, licked chocolate from your teeth. 

Eddie’s eyes were soft, innocent, head tilted to yours as he shook the curls from his eyelashes. “He didn’t say much, just came back grumpier than usual. Robin yelled at him the other day because every time we mention you, he gets all… weird. Quiet. Obnoxious.” His lips split in a grin, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He was concerned, concerned for his friend, for you too.

You took a deep breath, acknowledged the idea of a sullen Steve, moping around at your expense. You thought back to that blessed weekend, boring conference room meetings anxiously awaiting 5 o’clock when you could stumble back into a hotel room, not unlike this one, unzipping your dress and soaking in Steve Harrington’s all-encompassing affection. All weekend, he had been soft words and sweet sounds and roaming hands, until the end.

And then you fought. God, you’d never fought anyone like that. 

“Steve asked me to marry him.” 

It was Eddie’s turn to choke. “I’m sorry?” 

You shrugged, tugged at a run in the chiffon of your pleated skirt. “Well, he more told me to marry him than asked. There wasn’t a ring or anything.” You groaned and slammed your head back into the padded headboard. “He wanted to try long distance, and when I said no, he told me to marry him, told me to move to Hawkins, promised to take care of me. And Jesus, Eddie, no offense to Hawkins or its residence, but you know I can’t do that. I mean, after the Earthquake? After all that happened?” You were rambling, but you hadn’t talked about it. Not since you spewed to Nancy, and that was months ago.

“No, I get it,” Eddie sighed, tugging his hair tie from his end to run his fingers through scraggly hair. “I’m only there for Wayne, and half the time, I think he’s staying for me. Hawkins is like a black hole.” 

“Exactly!” You poured a few more M&Ms into your hand and ate them one-by-one. “And like, I obviously like Steve. I mean, he was my first kiss, my prom date. We have history, you know? I think that’s why I know him so well.”

Eddie hummed in response, settled back down beside you, shoulder to shoulder. He tossed a candy, missed his mouth. It settled somewhere between you. 

“Steve needs the nuclear family. He needs a stay-at-home wife and six kids, a golden retriever out back.” You mused. You almost hated that you saw yourself in the role, could see yourself melding perfectly into it, had been imagining it for months and months. 

Eddie just let you speak, continued to shuffle chocolate into his hand and down it. 

You elbowed him. “What, no input here?” 

He crunched a few bites, mouth full, and shrugged. He pulled your water bottle from your hand to chase the chocolate coating his mouth, and took a minute to compose his thoughts before he said. “Can I be totally honest with you?”

“Please,” you nodded, tilting yourself to face him. 

He glanced your direction for a split second, but looked outward, gesturing to the room, to his invisible audience. “I mean, I obviously want you both to be happy. He’s one of my best friends. We share a toilet, for Christ’s sake.” 

You chuckled at the visual.

The corners of his mouth turned up into a smile, and he glanced back at you again. You watched his Adam’s apple bob. “But uh… I’m feeling really selfish tonight.” 

You felt it again at his words, that buzz of electricity to your fingertips. “Yeah?” Was all you could manage. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, looked away, gestured out to the neatly pressed bed to your right. “I mean, he’s not here. He could have fought for you, and he chose to be a coward and stay home, and I feel like kind of a dick because I’m just so grateful I finally have you to myself.” 

You watched the steady rise and fall of his chest before he turned to face you again, his eyes big and brown and watching you watch him. 

“Because honestly? It’s been killing me to fight for your attention when Harrington’s around. I mean, I’ve been wanting to kiss you since you offered to tutor me sophomore year.”

You licked the crease between your lips, saw it catch his gaze, watched him do the same. A shiver slipped down your spine. “You could try now. If you want.” 

A soft sound spilled from his mouth, and his brows furrowed neatly. “Are you sure?” 

You smiled, leaned back against the headboard, and whispered, “Kiss me, Eddie.” 

His lips were soft, pillowy, all-encompassing. He overtook your space, crowded you with a cascade of curls and a firm hand to the headboard above your head, his other grazing your ribcage, and you leaned into the taste of chocolate and spearmint. He was gentle, timid, a stark polar opposite from the dramatic flair of the man you’d grown accustomed to, a facade, perhaps. 

His nose nuzzled your own, and your cheek, and you breathed a warm smile to his temple when his lips found the hollow at your ear. “Can I?” He whispered, and you muttered an allowance before feeling warm, soft kisses down the plane of your throat to the dips of your clavicle. 

You pushed at his shoulders, unraveling the collar of his shirt until he was pulling away to yank folded sleeves down his forearms. His lean frame was sinew and faded ink and a smattering of scars that matched a few of your own.

He pulled his tank over his head next, not one to waste time, and you trailed your fingers along tight flesh from ribcage to hipbones, leaving a trail of goosebumps along pale skin. With a groan, he dipped back to capture your lips in a kiss again. You heard the scatter of M&Ms across the side table, felt the shift of the bed as he gripped your hips and pulled you downward until your head rested on a cotton pillowcase. 

“I meant it when I told you you were beautiful,” he muttered to your lips, hands ghosting your thighs as he made for the waist band of your nylons beneath your dress. 

You felt self-conscious about the creases left to your skin there, but nimble fingers rolled the thin material down past your knees, and you watched it waft to the floor. Firm hands quickly replaced it, kneading at aching leg muscles, pinching the meat of your thighs between ringed fingers. You moaned into an open mouth. 

“You deserve to be worshipped.” He sighed into your shoulder.

He was right. You deserved to have fun, to enjoy your friend’s wedding, to party, to live a little. You deserved to not worry about the ever-present stress of adulthood. You deserved to sink into a cushy mattress and clutch curls as a man buried his face into you, as a man praised you, as a man pleased you. 

You held chiffon pleats to your thighs, wished you’d shaved, felt pillowy lips to the crux of your hips, tried not to compare calloused hands to smooth ones. You saw stars, eyes and jaw slammed shut, and tried not to compare a round-tipped nose to a flat one. You allowed Eddie to kiss you, lips tacky, breath hot, and tried not to compare sweet sounds to filthy ones. 

Eddie was all lips, where Steve was all hands. Eddie was strong shoulders, nimble fingers, and Steve was rhythm and hips and thighs. Eddie was whispered truths and damp and sticky sweet, and Steve was furrowed brow and grit teeth, determined. Eddie let you pin him, hair splayed across a creased pillowcase, your small hands pressed to the faded ink on his chest, tracing lines with manicured fingertips. Steve would have pinned you wrists over your head. 

“Can I hold you?” Eddie asked, when you were all spent and sweating and breathless, curls stuck to his temples, eyelids heavy.

You sunk into spindly arms, your legs tangled but spread wide across an uneven bedspread. You dress has been discarded beneath the side table. The soft lamplight accentuated the shadows, a honeyed glow pooling in from the patio beyond. 

Something heavy rattled in you, guilt perhaps, and you released a shaky breath. 

“Need a smoke?” Eddie breathed into your neck, that warm chuckle, friendly, like he understood, that safe space to bring you back to Earth. 

You tucked his hand tighter into your ribcage beneath your breasts, a buoy tying you to the reality of the day, of your life, to the consequences of your actions. 

You fell asleep to the low, rumbling hum of Elvis Presley’s Can’t Help Falling In Love. 

---

A/N: This has been floating around my head for ages, and for some reason, it chose this week to finally come out, and it's so vastly different from what I had planned. Listen, I'm a Steve girl, trust me. I know it may not seem like it, but I'm really, really a Steve girl. But Eddie's just so... I just love him sometimes, okay?

Also I just really felt like this was so about the friendship between them all. If you can't tell, I think I'm in love with Robin and Nancy. Let me know what you think. Love you forever and ever. xo Amanda

#stranger things fic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #jancy #jonathan byers #robin buckley #argyle and eden

[fbczine]

Hello agents! 

As work begins on the Oceanview Guestbook zine, the Admin Team would like to offer a quick update on the zine’s progress. 

Our first check-in is right around the corner on April 15th! We’re so excited to see our contributors’ pieces begin to take shape and come to life!  

Mod Introductions will also be taking place later this month. 

Thank you for your continued interest and support for the zine. We’re thrilled to be underway with our second project. Follow our socials to stay tuned for future updates!  

📌 https://fbczine.carrd.co 📌 https://twitter.com/FBCzine

– The Admin Team

#control #control 2019 #remedy control #alan wake #alan wake 2 #remedy entertainment #video game zine #zine #fanzine #fbc zine #mod post #fbc zine 2024

[ink-flavored]

Slow-Down Announcement

Hey everyone! Thank you so much for your patience during my break, my move, and through the holidays. It means a lot that you’d all be so generous as to keep paying me while you wait. In general, your continued support is incredibly important to me. And as much as I appreciate it, I will have to ask you for a bit more patience.

Ko-Fi was an experiment I started to see if it was practical for me. I was excited about the response my AUgust 2022 prompts had gotten, and I wanted to see how my audience would respond to access to more of my writing and more of my process. I was also curious to see if I could use Ko-Fi to grow my audience, or supplement my writing career. Building a brand online is difficult, but I couldn’t let an opportunity like this slip by me.

After about 15 months, I can say I’ve had a lot of fun on Ko-Fi. I love Magnet Mondays, I like sharing what happens behind-the-scenes, and giving you all sneak peaks of what’s to come. Like I said, I’m forever grateful you thought my art to be worth paying monthly for in the first place, it’s not something I ever dreamed people would do for me. Unfortunately, posting on Ko-Fi as regularly as I wanted has become impractical for my schedule and mental health.

Keeping up with the rate of posting I promised—weekly, biweekly, and monthly, over my various categories—isn’t sustainable in my current environment. If I had the opportunity to do nothing but write for 8-hours a day, 5-days a week, it would be easy! I would have plenty of time to share my writing with you, continue my personal projects, and maintain a healthy work-life balance. Sadly, my writing schedule is not so generous. My full-time office job cuts into my creative time a lot, and stacking the self-imposed obligations of my Ko-Fi schedule on top of that means that I’m “at work” a lot more than I otherwise would be.

Long story short, I’m getting fatigued trying to keep pace with Ko-Fi updates. I’m going to be slowing down my activity here, and prioritize what I can do without burning myself out. I have a flexible plan that I’ve been developing, so you know where you can find me outside of Ko-Fi if you’d still like to follow my work elsewhere.

Keep Reading below here or on Ko-Fi

First, Magnet Mondays are sticking around, but this time for free. Polls are easier than counting comments, so I’ll be hosting the weekly vote and the poems on my ink-flavored Tumblr account. I really don’t want to give up doing Magnet Mondays, since it was a lot of fun for me (and for you all too, I hope). The first poll will go up this Sunday (January 7th) and the first poem will go up the next Monday (January 15th), so I hope I’ll see you all on Tumblr! I’ll still post the final poems here on Ko-Fi for organization's sake.

Second, one of my goals for 2024 is to be more active on my new Neocities website. The freedom of having my own writing website where I can post whatever I want without the need to be overly professional like a portfolio, and no risk of getting my content reported like on social media, means that I can share a lot more of what I write. Please do check it out, and feel free to sign the guestbook while you’re there!

More generally, I want to migrate some of the Typewriter-tier behind-the-scenes posts to Tumblr and Neocities, so more people can see what goes on under the hood when I write. I don’t have imminent plans to share the exclusive content on Saturdays anywhere else—save for things like AUgust, which are already all free—but I won’t write it off.

Finally, as for the fate of this Ko-Fi account, I’ll be reworking the tiers a bit. Magnet Mondays will be free, so it can’t be a perk, and my plan is to post behind-the-scenes or exclusives sporadically, whenever I feel like I have something to share. I’ll keep the BTS to Wednesdays and the exclusives to Saturdays, but that will be the only consistency in scheduling. Nothing from the Manuscript tier needs to change, since I don’t plan on halting commissions.

Thank you all for being so understanding, and for being so generous this past year and a bit. I’m happy I even had the opportunity to try this out, and it would have been over before it started if I didn’t have people like you.

#annika talks

[feline-evil]

HEY HI HELLO

M'names Jay, i'm the dude/cat-thing who blogs nonsense on here and who you may have seen the work of if you're in The Hotel Fandom (i do graphic design for The pinup calendar and The guestbook zine!!), and i'm here to make a very different post than my usual!

THAT'S RIGHT FOLKS, I'M HERE TO TALK ABOUT MONEY

TLDR: CLICK HERE TO HELP ME MAKE BACK MY LIFE SAVINGS SO I CAN AFFORD TO MEET MY LONG DISTANCE BOYFRIEND MORE OFTEN!!

REBLOGS/SIGNAL BOOSTS MASSIVELY APPRECIATED!!

But read on for full details and for information on a commission type i'm also open for! :D

Recently i got to meet my long distance boyfriend for the first time and it was the best time of my life!! I would like to be able to meet him in person many more times! Now, of course the thing is this costs MONEY, and i spent my life savings on accommodation for us this last trip; i do not currently have a standard job, i have been an artist since i was 18 but my own health issues mean i cannot really work like i used to, so making that life savings back is! A big task for me! To cut a long story short i have permanent damage/a strain in my dominant hand that means i cannot draw as much as i used to, and i deal with general pain and fatigue issues that also impact me; so it's a big ol' tricky situation! WHICH IS WHERE THIS POST COMES IN.

I would like to make back my life savings if i can, i would like to save to help with the financial costs of seeing my boyfriend again, maybe even more often, i would like to in general be able to save for and afford a better life in many regards!! So if you are willing and able to do so, i have a ko-fi goal you can pop a few quid towards! Its a £500 goal, which covers my life savings; consider this like a tip jar, if you've ever enjoyed my work- be it my art or graphic design work- and you've wanted to drop me a lil somethin', here's where to do it!

-> CLICK HERE TO GO TO THE TIP JAR <-

And while i can't take on full comms due to the condition of my arm and fatigue i can do these little chibi comms if you'd prefer to commission than donate!! £10 GBP each for these, can do anthro, human, closed species, p much anything you want!!

(And psst, hey for £5 extra i'll render your chibi like this!)

-> CLICK HERE TO COMMISSION A CHIBI!!!! <-

If you read this far thank you so so much!! :D I hope to keep working on cool stuff both in my independant projects and my fanworks, and i truly appreciate any all all support no matter if it's tossing a few quid my way or just reblogging and signal boosting!! THANK YE THANK YE!!

#jay talkin #my art #DONT RLLY KNOW WHAT TO TAG THIS WITH TBH #BUT YAH IF U WANNA HELP A GAYBOY KISS HIS FELLOW GAYBOY DO PLS READ

[mischief-and-tea-by-the-sea]

Autumn Asks

frost, lantern, bonfire

frost - if you could give some advice to your younger self, what would you say?

1. Let Mom teach you how to dance. It's not silly, she knew what she was doing, and you would probably have felt far more confident on the dancefloor and not as insecure about dancing now.

2. Tell your aunts and your cousin to go fuck themselves and to get the hell out of your house (when they came to stay while Mom was in the hospital) when you were 17. Ignore Mom's need for peace and 'getting along and staying quiet to keep the peace' because she was in the hospital as it was, not at the house dealing with their cunt-ass attitude, and they needed to be told off. This will teach you to set boundaries that will save your life and your self esteem in years to come.

3. Fuck high school. Drop out, get your GED, find a job you enjoy, and skip college for a year or two while you're figuring out what you want to do.

4. While you're at it, push for your sister to sell the house and move the hell out of Texas before 1993. First off, you'll be the hell far away from Texas and won't ever have to live there again, and second, you'll still have your brother around.

5. Granted, you'll hopefully be out of Texas by this point, but if not (or even if you are), do NOT go out with this one dude EVER. Don't date him, don't live with him, don't marry him. Use those boundaries you figured out with your relatives to tell that gaslighting narcissist to fuck off and die.

6. Don't be an English major if you do go to college. Definitely take creative writing workshops and classes, but don't major in literature. You can happily keep reading whatever you want without having to write dumbass papers that are nothing more than vomiting up other people's theories to back your own up. Fuck that. Go into parapsychology and creative writing. Or fuck academia altogether and just get your career as a tarot reader going from an earlier point. Take creative writing classes for fun.

lantern - how did you meet your best friend? What were your first impressions of each other?

I have a few best friends, and we each met in different ways.

First best friend was childhood best friend who is still a friend but less 'best' now than before. Still, we met through two of our brothers, and I was like...5 or 6, so I think my first impression was that she was cool as hell, but I'm not sure what her impression of me was.

Best friend that lives on the East Coast - we met through a now-defunct site called WitchVox. She emailed me because of the group/coven listing I had up and asked me questions. We emailed back and forth for a week or two, and then we met for coffee at Kettle. She was married at the time, I was married at the time, and our dudes turned out to be douchebags. We kept each other as besties in the divorces. I know one of my first impressions of her was that "Holy fuck, she's tall!" And she reminded me a lot of my mom but with a much more in your face bitch attitude. I'm not sure what her first impression of me was.

Welsh Bestie - We met through the guestbook (yes we're old) of Isaac Bonewits' website because I saw that he called himself a chaotician, so I messaged him. We emailed and IMed, and we've been friends since January of 1999. Haven't met face to face yet. My first impression was that he was cool. Not sure what his first impression was of me. @chaotic-hypnotic-erotic

Jewish Michigan suburb bestie - We met through the Jay and Silent Bob slash yahoo group back in like...what? 2000? 2001? We read each other's fics first, chatted, I'm sure, through the actual groups, and then one night, @kleenexwoman IMed me because I was awake. I thought she was a weird and fun little 18 year old, and I gave her all manner of advice on how to hoard as much food from the student center as she could in her dorm since the student center closed at a certain time of night. She didn't have a car at the time to leave campus, and being stuck in a dorm that didn't allow hot plates, I made suggestions on how she could keep snack type food around. Eventually, I sent her an electric kettle because she could have that, and she could make ramen or mac and cheese in it as well as heat up water for tea. I know I liked her a lot and thought she was weird and funny and fun. No idea what her first impression of me was. I've talked to her on the phone in the past but still haven't met face to face.

Bestie that I run three bingos with - I think we met through here/AO3 (fics and comments), and right away, I liked @scottxlogan because she's sassy and funny and creative and imaginative. We share fandoms and cheerleader each other on through writing and life's bullshit. Still not sure what her first impression of me was, but mine was that she was awesome, and I have a blast running the bingos with her. We make a really good team, and I can't wait to meet her in person because I think we'll get into some really weird but creative trouble together.

Bestie who spent far too long holding the bowl for a dick who didn't appreciate her the way she deserved - I met @raevynlokidottir through LJ way the hell back, and I can't even remember what community it was through. Firefly, maybe? Some pagan community? But that was probably getting close to 20 years ago maybe. Maybe not quite that long, but it's been a long time. It took a little bit to get the engines really revved on the friendship, but she was there for me through the divorce, and by the time I graduated grad school, her daughter was calling me Aunt T, and we were pretty much family. First impressions fuzzy because it was so long ago, and I've slept since then. If my sister and I can get the fuck out of Texas, we'll get to meet because she relocated to a state close to the one we're going to live in.

Work Sister-Bestie - I met her last year when I went to work at a small retail food-new age shop here in the small-ass town I live in. I worked closer to full-time, and she worked two days a week for three hours a day. She'd been working there longer than me, but from the moment I started, we hit it off so much that, aside from actually having to work, we talked from the moment she walked through the door to the moment she left, and we text quite a bit, too. The job was great (aside from not paying quite enough) - how often can you say that you love 99.9% of your customers in retail? Not often. But out of all of that really awesome experience, she is by far the BEST thing to come out of that job. I know that my first impression of her was that she was nothing like I thought she'd be when I first started working with her and that she's so far away from being as conservative as she looks. @missrobbie73 swears and has one of the best dirtiest minds. I think her first impression of me was that she thought I might not like her because I was loud and weird and that I might not get her at first. (She's not active on Tumblr most of the time, but I talked her into joining because I fun that stone blog on here.)

bonfire - describe your dream house.

Dream house would either be on the beach or within a short walk to the beach - obviously not in Texas. Preferably east-northeast. Single story, as I'm getting older and stairs can be a bitch on my knees and ankle. Big wrap-around porch with one part of it facing the beach if possible. 3-4 bedrooms, 2-2 1/2 bathrooms. Big bedrooms, bathrooms, big ass kitchen - maybe open concept kitchen-livingroom-dining room. Tile floors. Living room doesn't have to be huge but cozy enough for guests. I've actually dreamt about this house (or ones like it) for shit...30 years maybe? Wouldn't need a pool but a hot tub would be nice. Maybe a nice outdoor kitchen as well as the big indoor one? Definitely plenty of space to grill and have a firepit on the beach. Doesn't need to be fancy but nice, cozy, sweet. A haven.

Autumnal Asks.

#Autumnal Asks #chaoticgardenbread #Thank you for the asks!

[rustbeltjessie]

You Might Be An Xennial If...

you don't even (whatever whatever what-ever) care that you'll never recover from the recession

Empire Records was your favorite film & like, who needs a job with a decent paycheck & benefits when you can be a tattooed gum-chewing freak forever?

damn the man!

you remember dial-up modems, AOL chat rooms, web page guestbooks

you ever made mix tapes (& later made the transition to mix CDs but some long nights you long for those days spent pressing record & play.)

you grew up playing Oregon Trail & part of you can't help but think your demise will arrive like death did in that game, driving an 8bit Conestoga, telling you: you have died of cholera, you have died of dysentery.

you have died of exhaustion.

no one wants to claim you once you were a Gen-Xer but they kicked you out & you know you're not a Millenial cuz, like, you still use soap & napkins & drink beer, & go to Applebee's once or twice a year.

New Kids on the Block was your boy band & you came of age during the heyday of third-wave ska, learned to skank at summer camp after a few sweaty rounds of spin-the-bottle & from them on got sorta turned on every time you heard

pick it up! pick it up! pick it up!

you wonder at the ways of the younger generations, so many of them eschew sex & cars, but back in your day, there was no greater insult than you're a virgin who can't drive

you heard a lot of whispered innuendo when Clinton was prez, adults snickering about what happened under that table when they thought you weren't listening like you didn't know what a blowjob was? like you'd never been asked

spit or swallow?

you gave your first blowjob at twelve bestowed the back of your throat to an older boy hoping he'd splatter his coolness back onto you; twelve was the age you developed a taste for several oral fixations—cocks & tongues, joints & cigarettes

you had a lot of firsts at twelve, like, that was the year you wrote your first zine, the year you first tried suicide, yeah there were enough things making you feel so shitty you wanted to die, even when you were twelve

the year punk broke (your heart)

you were too young to see most of the cool '90s bands live, but old enough to be devastated when their lead singers killed themselves or o.d.'d—you had your first cigarette the day Kurt died, stood huddled in mourning

outside your school with all the other weirdos with their black clothes & nicotine haloes, someone passed a cigarette to you & you smoked it while a boy you knew bloodied his knuckles on the brick wall while muttering fuck you fuck you fuck you & the world was ending

Y2K was your armageddon, you were eighteen, so full of whitehot fury you wanted to see the world all burning skies & shattering glass, but nothing happened so you shot up & passed out in your boyfriend's bed

the world has been ending ever since you were born, & you spent so many years trying to end your life in both direct & oblique ways, you never thought you'd live past twenty-one, & maybe what really defines your generation

is that self-destructive impulse, cuz your heroes were suicidal rockstars & you grew up aware of chemical warfare & species extinction & your own downward mobility & your older siblings raised you on the gospel of Gen X slackerdom, so, like, whenever an adult asked what you were going to do with your lives you responded in unison

planning for the future? ugh, as if!

—Jessie Lynn McMains, from forget the fuck away from me (Bone & Ink Press, 2019)

#jessie lynn mcmains #poetry #poets on tumblr #xennial #pop culture references #gallows humor #general cw #because there is too much to really tag it all #my writing #forget the fuck away from me

[bluntfish]

Press-Me-Not, Gilded Anemone (Part II - Warm Greetings)

Is it hard to ask for a date with an elusive man in the snow fields?

This Part: Lunch date? Lunch Date.

Feat. Zhong Nan + Li Guang (flashback)

Also posted on AO3. 🐟

The next day, you’re making your way past the business district in your town. Danny's is a far cry from the floral shop, which you sometimes frequent as you walk by the storefronts. Flowers are a rarity in Raine so the influx of customers tends to come and go. Either to observe the fleeting beauty of the blossoms or to buy a bouquet on display for special occasions. 

Occasionally, you often read gardening magazines on the news racks when you visit. One section from the articles you refer to was about anemones. These windflowers follow the breeze with their petals and come in a variety of colors. There were also little blurbs for each color's meaning. Shades of red represent varying scales of love forgot. Violet as a symbol of perseverance. White is also a common one; sincerity is its usual meaning. The call for spring, ill wills, and anticipation of the rain were some of the other general representations of this fragile flower. Yet, as the more you think about it, you couldn’t happen to make that association to–

“Aurelius?”

He’s scurrying himself over a crosswalk after the green light. The people in town were bustling over. It was particularly busy, even at the edge of town. And yet, you witness this bulking man clumsily swerving his body akin to rusted gears against a belt grinder. You couldn’t help but stare making his way toward you like his life depended on it. His figure is getting closer as you turn your head, averting your sights.

“(Y/N)! Hey!” he shouted, “Sorry to keep you waiting!”

“You’re alright! I’m glad you made it on time,” you joyously said while staring at your feet. Your cheeks are warm.

“I like…your outfit,” he remarks. 

“Thank you. I don’t think I’ve seen you wear that coat before,” you noted.

“Oh, this?” he said with his hand pulling on his coat collar, “It's nothing. I wore it often when I was in my hometown.”

“Looks good on you. Well, let's get warmed up.” 

The two of you entered the restaurant. Aurelius froze. People are packed into booths and tables. It is very crowded. He often visits this diner near the dead hours of the night, sometimes reconnecting with his former friend from his past. He doesn’t spot him from the masses. Comfort is far from him, as Aurelius makes a hesitant step with you. But you reassure him by squeezing his hand slightly.

The host welcomes the two of you. They have a wing hanging out of their left side. Aurelius did a curt greeting while you requested to get your reservation checked. A booth for two under your name. They turned the pages of their guestbook and directed you to your spot. You specifically asked for a far corner of the restaurant, tucked away from the occupants past the bar. You had some slight stares from its patrons. They looked away when Aurelius made his heavy footsteps, quickly meeting any with a leer without reason.

Aurelius slides himself to his seat while you shimmy through yours. The host leaves, calling upon a waiter to take care of your table. In the meanwhile, you turn to Aurelius who is looking at some side condiments and a smaller menu for desserts. Some of the names he flipped through he recognized, mostly from the smells he waffled from his formative years. He sets it aside and then looks over to the people enjoying their meal, occupied in their bubbles. With a sigh, he looks at his hands and shoves his gloves into his pockets. His glasses are folded and slipped into the front of his coat. The scar dashed across his nose makes him look particular. Handsome even.

“This is the first time I’ve sat here during the day. I often drink with a friend of mine here,” he says.

“Who exactly?”  you curiously asked.

“The Marshal, Zhong Nan. We knew each other way back when I was a kid.”

“He’s a very nice guy when he comes around to the lumber yard. How did you two meet?”

“It's complicated,” Aurelius quietly hums as he’s looking through the menu. “Is it happy hour? You mentioned it in your messages before I got here.”

“Oh yeah, it is! The Raine Special’s pretty good. I recommend the barbecue rack.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Reminds me of your skewerless-skewers,” you laughed. “But enough about food. Do you travel often?”

“Oh yeah, for my bounty hunting. A month ago, I was in Gyrate for a job. City life is a lot different here. I was able to see the beach for the first time in a long while.”

“Ah, the beach! I miss those sights too! What’s the job if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I was there to report how many Miramon I took down for a month. Usually, you send a form and document the type of Miramon but the last few I dealt with were a new type…”

As Aurelius continues to talk about the intricacies of his occupation, your mind wanders elsewhere. Somewhere sandy. Imagine yourself on the beach where you view the ocean waves foam towards the shoreline. And Aurelius is there, relaxing in the water. You assume he has some swim trunks lying about, but that is not the most distracting feature. Your attention is drawn to his arms. Maybe his chest. His behind isn’t that impressive, but you’re fine taking the view in front.  Oh, you can feel he could run for days carrying you across the sea.

“(Y/N)? Was it too difficult to understand?”

The spell has been broken. Reality rushes back to your consciousness. Aurelius leans over with a quick wave of his hand. And quickly, you cover up your daze with a little white lie.

“I’m just…thinking where our menus are going to be here.”

“Oh,” he says, softly pulling himself back to his seat, “hopefully soon.”

A waiter approaches your table with a couple of menus and a small checkbook.

“Sorry for the wait,” he rambled about, “My name is Bob. May I get you two started with something to drink? I also have to inform you we’re currently under happy hour so any of the Raine Specials we have are ten percent off. Plus a bonus deal for couples so take your time to look through.”

Aurelius blooms into a blush after hearing that last statement.

“...does he know?”

“I don’t think so,” you whispered back.

You turn to the waiter after glancing over the menu for a second.

“I’ll take water for now,” you said.

“Make that two, a-also a draft beer along with it,” Aurelius added with hesitation.

“Do you have your ID, sir?”

Aurelius whips out his card. You have never observed a man reveal such a gloomy expression in a photo till now.

“Alright. Thank you,” the waiter robotically responded, “I’ll be back with your drinks.”

The waiter leaves in a rush as Aurelius scans through the items presented at the restaurant. He flips through mindlessly, unsure what he'll be getting. You didn’t have to look at the menu at all. You have an idea of what you want to eat and it's the usual you get every time. You’re just people-watching while peeking through your phone. 

Your friends constantly message you about your date, and you try your best to ignore it. Though it’s harder to ignore when they’re sending you a variety of embarrassing emojis describing your situation after your luncheon. Trying to be sly, you slip your phone under the table to quickly send:

“Can you guys not? I’m busy.”

“Busy kissing that is? Hmm?” one of your friends responded within a few seconds.

You groaned. Aurelius noticed the change of mood and shortly prompted himself to speak up.

“(Y/N),” Aurelius calls out to you, “Have you done anything fun this week?”

You uttered a confused hum in your wavering, stoic persona.

“Not really, other than last night after dropping you off.”

“Oh?”

“I was…well, fixing the other broken ATV we had. The one you found last time. It’s working but some kinks need to be ironed out.”

“That’s good to hear,” he says, fumbling with his menu.

“But otherwise, I was taking care of the lumber shop. Had a lot of customers asking me for firewood or some projects like making a chair. But nothing of note. Did I mention it before?”

“Not at all,” he says with a smile, “I like hearing you talk about your life.”

You forgot the things that Aurelius does daily are anything but normal. The mundane talk of your life unassuming suggests a cushion from his mental strain. Life on the tundra is still rough as ever, and he’s willing to take any chance to lessen the blow of wilderness. Even with a small whisper, like that night long ago. Small whispers. Things like asking for water occasionally.

“Your waters. And your beer, sir?”

You turn to your left. The waiter appeared right in front of you and set down two glasses of water. The two of you were engrossed in your conversation that his presence was ignored completely. Till now. His appearance startled Aurelius slightly, not to the point of him jumping from his seat. But he did jolt for a second.

“Are you two ready to order? Or do you need a little more time?” the waiter continues, unfazed by the reactions.

Sweat beads on Aurelius’s forehead. One glance and you know this man didn’t decide what he wanted.

“Do you want me to order for you?” you quietly asked him.

“It’s fine. I-I uh–”

He stares intensely at one part of the menu and points it out with such vigor. You sat in silence with the waiter till Aurelius opened his mouth.

“I’ll take this. The b-barbecue rack special. Is that alright?”

“Sure thing, sir. I’ll write that down. And for you?”

You filled him your order by a reflex. The waiter nods as his pen traces your voice on paper.

“You two enjoy your conversation,” while he trails off towards the kitchen.

Aurelius releases the tension from his shoulders and sinks into his seat. His head rolls against the headboard and his eyes are drawn over to your hands resting on the table, peeking through the desert menu.

“Sorry, I feel like an idiot,” he murmurs.

“You’re not. You’re trying.”

“If you say so,” he wheezes anxiously while scratching the back of his head before continuing his thoughts. “Sometimes I hate being nervous like this. Especially with people around me. I feel uncool.”

“Uncool? If you’re so uncool, care to explain what happened earlier this week? With that girl?”

“You mean the adventurer I came across?”

“Yeah. I was wondering what you were doing with her. You didn’t give much detail after you said you went to the mountains with some kid.”

Aurelius immediately sits up. 

“...did you think I went on a date with her first?”

“Obviously not,” you said, folding your arms, “I was curious. Because it sounds cool. I couldn’t climb that high I think.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone. It was actually dangerous.”

“Why is that?”

Aurelius takes a breath before calling upon his memories of the encounter. A few days prior, the man was returning from a failed hunt in the snowfields. It was then he heard a girl’s voice piping under a pile of snow. First, he ignored it. Then her arm reaches out to his foot which startled Aurelius into his fight-flight response. Soon, a pause. He pulled the lass up out of the snowdrift and dusted the snow off her orange get-up. Her name was Li Guang, an esper of the Vermilion Bird and a well-traveled explorer investigating the Raine Tundra. Aurelius suggests that she return to safety outside and is willing to guide her promptly. But she refuses.

“I came to the snowfields to find treasure,” she smiled, “It’s somewhere here but I have to climb.”

“Where?”

She points to the highest summit, a far distance from the Raine Wall. The mountain stood as the wind was blowing at a reasonable speed. Aurelius begrudgingly heaves a sigh. Out of his own volition, he accompanies her. Not for the sense of adventure, but the overt dread of a teenager risking her life over the most dangerous parts of the tundra. This man has seen death countless times. He was there to ensure safety. It unsettles him if no one else is there to ensure her safety. Someone he wished he had when the things he loved were taken from him.

They walked, scaled, and climbed upon the rocky peaks. Aurelius treads carefully as Li Guang joyfully races to the top. From there, she hands him a rope tether as she descends to the cliffside. Every minute, every second of his body shakes against his steeled determination. The wind’s breeze invokes the howling cold, nearly knocking the girl out. And Aurelius hears this. From her sudden plea, he rapidly uses the power of Ullr as support. Till he hears another shout hoisting her up in relief.

He wrapped his retelling with the photo Li Guang took. A picture of a snow lotus growing on the crevices. He showed this image from his phone where you gawk in awe. The texture of the flowers appears feathery upon husks of greens radiating around the blooms.

“That’s beautiful.”

“I thought about raising some myself, but I think they’re better where they are.”

“She would’ve been stuck under the snow if you weren’t there,” you claimed.

“Speaking from experience?” he replies with an eyebrow raised.

“Oh hush,” you softly laughed. “You’re fine Aurelius. You’re just looking out for her.”

“I guess,” he mutters. “What surprised me the most after the fact… she told me the snowfields are her favorite location so far.”

“There are perks to living in such an icy land. For example, meeting you.”

His ears turn red, along with his timid expression drawn all over his eyes and lips. Unable to meet your gaze, Aurelius gulps down his drink as his hands withdraw to himself. He couldn’t help but chuckle at your flirty comment.

“Wish I went to the mountains with you. Overlooking Raine at such a distance sounds wonderful,” you continued.

“Well,” he mused, “if you’re with me, I’ll take you anywhere. As long it's not endangering the both of us.”

“Oh wow, Mr. Marksman? Trying to set me up on a tour?”

“Not just a tour. An expedition.”

“To where?”

“Do you want to start here?” he confidently grins, pointing to himself.

You can feel the heat of your cheekbones hurting. Aurelius is satisfied.

“Pretty smooth. You win this time,” you said, admitting your defeat.

“What’s my reward?” he teased.

“Quality time with yours truly.”

“Fair trade,” he snorts.

“Do you feel better now?”

“Better?” he repeated, “You mean our conversation?”

“Helps drown out the noise.” You winked at him.

He responds by gulping his beer in contentment. In the corner of your eye, light snowfall flutters about from the restaurant window. The sight calms you. You silently wish this day lasts longer, a bit more with the white-haired hunter.

“Living here isn’t so bad, now thinking about it. When you told me you’re not a native, I thought it was weird you want to make Raine your home. Not a lot of travelers come by because of the cold weather, I assume.”

“At least it’s bearable… quiet. I can hear my thoughts walking on the snow when I want to be alone,” Aurelius says after taking a sip of his beer.

“I wonder why I can’t pinpoint what got me so drawn to you,” you frankly questioned yourself.

His eyes perked as he took another sip. His glass settles gently on the table as he leans in.

“There’s a lot of things, I think,” you pondered.

“What could you possibly see in me?” he eagerly questioned.

You glance at him, with a very quiet smile.

“A lot of things. But the first thing that came to mind is that you’re pretty dorkish.”

The table lifted a few centimeters after the slight impact of Aurelius’ fist against the surface.

“D-Dorkish?! I’m not! Where did you get that idea?”

The patrons turn their heads to Aurelius’s table, wondering where the source of the sound was coming from. But Aurelius is wrapped up with your claim that you can feel the heat of his body won’t contain his esper powers any longer. It stirred something inside of him, another side you didn’t think you’ll be discovering now. In public no less.

“Aurelius, calm down,” you giggled sheepishly, “I mean it in a cute way.”

“Cute?! Are you making fun of me?” he retorts.

“No, no! I’m not. Listen to me.”

You grabbed his hand. Naturally, he relaxes. You feel the fuming energy leaving him.

“I’m saying that because that’s just you. You’re just being yourself and I like that!” you confessed in a harsh whisper.

The man’s voice shriveled inside. His sweat beads and beads down to his chin. Upon the realization, there were a bunch of eyes on him. He’s ignoring that now. He stares at his draft beer. Unmoving. He takes another sip. At that moment Aurelius wanted to die a painful, slow death. A death he’s unable to achieve. The sheer embarrassment of himself getting riled up from your measly remark was enough entertainment for you and some of the patrons noticing your antics. Yet, you couldn’t help that you’re also partly guilty for getting him like this.

“...you like me for what I am?” he spoke after calming himself down.

“I do. Sorry for getting you heated.”

“No, it’s my fault. I should’ve thought about it more before I said anything,” Aurelius groans.

“Maybe you should process your thoughts more before speaking, diner patron. You’re disturbing the peace,” a deep voice calls out to him from afar.

Aurelius' eyes nearly bulge out, as if he knows. You instantly look behind his shoulder. A blue-haired man wearing a bucket hat is emerging from his bar seat and walking towards your booth. Metal footsteps echo. A shrug of a red, long coat draped around the shoulders. Wisps follow him like children’s balloons ever so drifting from his position. You recognize his expression from a mile away, along with the ghosts who accompany him.

“M-Mr. Zhong. Hello!”

“I was wondering what’s with the noise. I didn’t think it could be from my dear friend, Aurelius,” the man spoke.

“…hey Nan,” the white-haired man mumbled, greeting him with a weak wave.

After clearing his throat, Aurelius sits upright. Awkwardly, he raises his hand toward you as if he’s making an offer or seeking parental approval.

“This is (Y/N), my date.”

“Hm? Your date?” 

Zhong Nan is the marshal in charge of the jurisdiction of Raine. He oversees the Raine Wall, a formidable area to deter the constant onslaught of the untamed frontier beyond the tundra. It is his sworn duty to protect the inhabitants from any threats permeating across the border. And he does this alone. As such, he takes complaints from anyone but he extends an invitation to chat sometimes. Just like the lone wanderer who sits across from you. However, like Aurelius, you can feel a sense of longing for his homeland as he wishfully turns his gaze to the window a few times, then scans over your frame. Immediately, he recognizes you.

“Oh, we’ve met. Your father helped install the new table at my station.”

You nodded along. Unknowingly, Aurelius gulps his draft beer again.

“Is there anything else we could do for you, Mr. Zhong?” you asked if you were back at home.

“Not at all. I’m enjoying the current furnishings. If I need more, I’ll commission your family again.”

You give your respects with a simple bow, while the ghostly-riddled man shrugs it off.

“Forget the formalities. This is a light-hearted affair.”

He turns to Aurelius, patting his shoulder like an older brother to his younger sibling.

“Is this the person you were talking about a few nights before?”

Aurelius sputtered in mid-drink. “I-I mean yes but–”

“Such a lucky fellow. You should hear him rambling about you when he is down for a few drinks. He’s a total riot.”

Aurelius’s face gradually— No, immediately turned beet red. He’s morphing into a clam, chucked in the coldest waters several miles away. Unable to hold on to his glass, he shrinks to the corner of the booth. Zhong Nan continues with his expression speaking of hidden mischief.

“He can get pretty chatty once he’s loosened up. He went on and on about how he misses you like a boy lost in love for the first time in forever.”

“What did he say? Was it sweet?” you proposed.

“Ask him yourself. I can’t articulate his proclamations.”

Zhong’s smirk cemented the feelings you had suspected. The fondness of this man. He went out of his way to acclaim his affections to a friend. Hearing that made you happy. But Aurelius… his response was different. He was silently loud. The ghastly man felt the soft blow of a fist towards his arm. His eyes glance over to the marksman and couldn’t help but just belt out a slow, awkward chuckle.

“I’ll tell you when we get to your place. It’s a lot,” the hunter shyly admits with a tear down his cheek.

“Hah! I’ll leave you be. And (Y/N), don’t be a stranger. Join us for drinks next time.”

“Thanks for the offer. I will when I can.”

“Catch you later, Marshal,” Aurelius says in a muffled voice.

“Will do, old friend.”

Zhong Nan nods off tipping his hat and returns to his spot. 

Aurelius uttered a breath barely escaping his teeth.“...sorry about yelling at you earlier. And with him. I’m not like that at all… when I’m just…”

“I know,” you assured him with your fingers dancing on his palm. 

His mind drifts. The sensation of your fingertips in his hand. He gently does the same in return. He wants to lock the scene in his mind. Replaying it for hours on end. Then you two remembered you were in a space. A public space where you receive substance. The waiter saw everything as he set his pull-out tray. He pretends he saw nothing. You both shy away from your affections as your plates are presented in front of you.

Your food is the same as ever, but the flavor is a lot more punchy. Maybe your senses have heightened since the Marshal’s encounter. It’s also your first time witnessing Aurelius handling barbeque. The sauce smeared against his lips. You laughed as you brought up a napkin to his mouth, and he thanked you promptly before cleaning out a rack. 

Time goes by. You forget the people in the restaurant. Your bill comes through soon after. You split a portion of your luncheon with Aurelius. Though he insists on paying for everything, you declined. You rather let him pay when you’re out drinking instead, which he laughs at for the high tabs he’ll rack in your presence. You sat another thirty minutes, chatting away whatever comes to mind. Foliage is the subject of your conversation.

“(Y/N), you’re knowledgeable about trees. Do you spend time on hobbies other than your family business? I don’t remember if you raised any plants or…”

Your palms get sweaty. You never mention your hobbies to him since it’s something you kept to yourself mostly. As you’re building his confidence to speak, you are also trying something in motion too. You slowly pulled your phone out and slid it to Aurelius after unlocking the screen. He squints, bringing the phone to his view. His eyes glimmer.

“Wait– Is this what I think it is?”

He zooms in on some of the details of your sketches. Small buds, fragile leaves, and bundles of stalk over twine. The composition was arranged in a way that you focused the attention on the buds more than the other parts of the plants. Aurelius immediately recognizes what you’ve drawn. The packaged flowers he delivered to you before.

“...you kept it the entire time?”

“Why would I throw it away? I told you I would cherish it,” you meekly replied.

“...wow, I-I uh. I’m surprised you kept it. It’s cool. Really cool.”

You mutually relate his bashfulness at this note. You kept going, talking about yourself and the things you like. He doesn’t bat an eye, completely engrossed in your passions, your thoughts. He enjoys hearing you speak about what you love. And in turn, you found common ground with Aurelius. Writing isn’t his strong suit, but you gave him some advice about your favorite genres. Including poetry.

“It’s nice to figure out a stanza pattern and try to make something out of it.”

He disagrees. “Seems complex.”

“It’s easier to put my thoughts on paper than saying it out, as you could tell.”

“I get it. Could you share some with me?”

“R-Really?”

“Maybe have some of your drawings on my walls too, on top of that,” he contemplated.

“O-Oh I’m not that good! It's just what I do for fun.”

“If you enjoy it, what’s stopping you?” he questioned, “it’s good work. If it makes you happy, you should continue doing it.”

You didn’t bother to protest. Being complimented about your work feels nice. Makes you warm and fuzzy. Your overall appearance softens under his kind words.

“Maybe when we get back to my place, I can show you my sketchbook. There’s a lot more in there.”

Sounds like it’s the cue to leave. The two of you depart from the restaurant. It’s still late afternoon. Your hands are occupied leading Aurelius through the many storefronts in town. On the way to your place, Aurelius stops in his tracks in front of the floral shop. He notes the amount of flora beyond the window. You tugged his jacket.

“Planning to buy some?”

“Someday. In the future,” he ponders.

Your conversations with the white-haired hunter continued during your walk. Plants, nature, whatever comes to mind. He seems to take it well though the moments of silence were appreciated. Aurelius isn’t much of a conversationalist, though being comfortable with you proved that he does see you as company. Good company you desired. If your final days were marked with this man, then you hope it's just like this. Hoping anything else could make this day even brighter.

#dislyte aurelius #dislyte aurelius x reader #dislyte fanfiction #dislyte #written by bluntfish #Same vibes: pure endearing awk lmao #accidently posted this one early so had to repost it sorry dfjakfdj #dislyte x reader

[sweetdreamsofgelato]

Question about reader in Midsummer Misadventures if thats allowed (please disregard if its not, but I miss the story and think about it a lot lol)...What does she think of his love of warhammer and general nerdiness? Does she mercilessly tease him while secretly thinking its cute? Does she just roll her eyes and wish he'd stop talking about it? Is she into all of that too?

My dear Bonnie Nonnie,

Questions are ALWAYS welcome. I adore getting them because I love rambling about my characters but also because more often than not it forces me to sit down and think...and then hopefully write. 😅

Honestly, I miss my story too and I'm so sorry it consistently takes forever to update. Writing has mostly been on the back burner lately because, of the many things going on in my life, over the last few months I've been knee-deep in the process of moving house. It's not gone smoothly at all so that's been fun, but things are starting to settle now. Hopefully, I will be able to return to something approximating a normal routine, but that said, a normal routine for me is typically just barely contained chaos. 😂

Sorry for rambling! Onto your question:

I think I answered something similar to this in this ask, but for the record, Reader would absolutely roast him mercilessly for it, and he would give back just as much with her guilty pleasures because that is their love language. 😂 There is definitely potential for Reader to find his nerdiness endearing, not necessarily because she also enjoys such things (though she theoretically could), but rather because I think she is attracted to that undercurrent of passion that Henry carries for his interests (though she loathes to admit it).

I think I've mentioned before that I see Reader as being fairly neutral on nerdiness. While RI naturally requires one to suspend disbelief to a certain degree, I've purposely tried to leave some things vague or open for interpretation to keep Reader as RI-friendly as possible. Sometimes I feel I've failed magnificently at that but there it is.

For your patience, here's a little sneaky peek!

You bowed over him and jammed a finger in the centre of his chest, forcing him to lean back even further. Your whisper was sharp and low. “It’s the only reason I’ve not gone home and left you here to sort out your own mess.”

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

“Where was this concern when you signed that bloody guestbook or when you threw me over your shoulder like a neanderthal?” Contrition flashed across his face, but your satisfaction was short-lived. The memory brought a fresh rush of heat to your already temper-inflamed skin. “Do not pretend that you’re doing this for any reason other than to protect your precious image, and don’t you dare impugn my integrity!” 

His gaze quickly flicked from yours down to his chest, and then made a lazy ascent once again. His eyebrow ticked up as he sat straight and slowly, purposefully leaned into your finger. 

A direct challenge. 

“Our mess,” Henry corrected heatedly, “and I’m sure the money has absolutely nothing to do with why you’re still here.” 

There was bitterness in his tone that felt undeserved. “You would hold a business agreement—one you approached me with— against me?”

“No, but perhaps you ought to be honest about your motivations before vilifying mine.”

#anon asks #sweetdreamsofgelato answers #fic: midsummer misadventures #sneak peek

[skekteksfurby]

So apparently this isn't really a thing outside of certain catholic countries/areas (specifically the European Alps) but it's very common in, for example, Austria, for most/all mountains to have a large cross on the highest peak! Like this:

Usually there's like a little guestbook at the cross where you can leave your name and a message, and the height is usually marked down somewhere as well. I've been on a LOT of vacations to the Alps all my life (about 90% of my vacation trips have been to there, about 80% of which are to Austria) and due to me having completed so many walks/climbs to these summit crosses I just...kinda assumed they were a thing in most other western countries with mountains but apparently they're not lmao

I kinda wondered why I never saw any of them on my trips to the mountainous areas of the USA/Canada

I've just had so many times where me and my folks start out in the morning with a walk/climb and then we have our lunch at the summit cross before going down. Nice tradition I've gotten really used to haha.

#tekrim text #the more you know

[bestvacationspots2024]

Discover the Art of Vacation Rental Management in Scottsdale

Hey, Tumblr folks! Let's dive into the world of vacation rental management right here in sunny Scottsdale, Arizona. Managing vacation rentals isn't just about giving travelers a place to crash. It's about creating those unforgettable experiences that make a getaway truly special.

Why Scottsdale?

Scottsdale isn't just about stunning desert landscapes and golf courses. It's a place where every vacation rental property tells a story. Imagine providing a cozy condo where artists find their muse or a luxurious villa where families reunite and create memories.

A Day in the Life

Ever wonder what a day managing vacation properties looks like? It's a mix of the glamorous and the nitty-gritty. One minute you're selecting the perfect local art for the walls, and the next you're troubleshooting an unexpected issue to ensure guests have the stay of their dreams.

Visual Stories

I'll be sharing snapshots of our gorgeous properties and the hidden gems around town. Expect lots of sun-soaked patios, eclectic decor, and the kind of views that make you want to stay forever.

Local Love

As part of managing these spots, I get to be part of the local tour guide. I'll spill on the must-visit cafes, the best trails for sunrise views, and where to find the tastiest margaritas in town.

From Our Guests

And what’s managing rentals without our guests? I’ll share heartwarming guest stories and the funny, quirky requests that come along. Plus, peeks into our guestbook that’s filled with doodles and thanks from around the world.

Join the Adventure

Interested in knowing more about vacation rental management? Maybe you're even thinking about booking a stay? Drop your thoughts, questions, or dream vacation ideas in the comments or hit up our DMs. Let’s make your next vacation or venture into rental management as magical as the Scottsdale sunset!

There you have it—a little window into the vibrant world of vacation rental management. Stay tuned for more stories and tips right here on Tumblr. Can’t wait to share this adventure with you all! 🌵✨

You Can Also Contact Us Here:

Cactus Vacation Rentals

[email protected]

480-666-1337

#scottsdale #vacation rentals

[rijallaw]

Green Card Through Spouse: Prep Help With Documents, The Interview, And More

Have you and your spouse discussed getting a green card? Do you want to get a green card through your spouse and want to give yourself the best possible chance of success? Here at the Rijal Law Firm, we have helped so many to do exactly that. If you and the love of your life want to live in America, we very well may be able to help you to do exactly that. There are certain requirements that you will have to meet and actions you will have to take. However, by working with an experienced attorney who knows exactly what the USCIS is looking for, we can help you every step of the way, from the free initial case evaluation through a successful resolution.

What Documents Are Required? Everyone’s case is different. Your relationship and your immigration path will be different from anyone else’s. That having been said, we can tell you, based on our experience, that many of our clients have needed to provide their birth certificate, marriage certificate, proof of your sponsor’s citizenship/lawful permanence residence, your m medical examination results, tax returns, bank statements, and more. Depending on your life and the life of your love, then you may also need to provide a police clearance certificate, death certificates/divorce decrees, military records, and others.

What to Remember About Petitioning to Get a Green Card Through Spouse

You may look at those and think: “Wow, those sure are a lot of documents.” They’re actually just the basic documents, some of what you may need. Remember: the government wants to make sure that you’re not scamming them, that you and your beloved really are truly in love and planning on being together, etc. So, you’ll also need to make a strong case for that, too. This can require a whole other set of documentation that’s very different from what’s mentioned above. For example, it can help your case to have photos that you’ve taken as a couple, proof that you went on trips together/have been together, a lease with both of your names on it, and so forth. “Joint” documents can also be very useful. Those include joint tax returns, bank statements for joint accounts, joint utility bills, and so forth. In many cases, the more wedding information, the better. Yes, photos from the wedding are great, but you can also boost your candidacy with invitations, guestbooks, and more. When you reach out to us, we can go over your case. During that, we’ll let you know exactly which documents can best serve your case, to make the most compelling petition on your behalf. Then, we’ll work with you to put all of that together.

What’s the Interview Like?

It may sound a bit odd, but, typically, the final stage in this process is to have an interview with an official from the USCIS. Here, too, their purpose is to make sure that your relationship is legitimate, that you two plan on doing what you say you’ll do. We can prepare you for this interview. As you might imagine, every interview is different. At the end of the day, the USCIS interviewer will ask any question that they believe will help to determine, one way or another, if your relationship is bona fide. Some of the questions our clients have been asked in the past can be answered factually, such as when/where you met, you/your spouse’s birthday, where did you go on your honeymoon, how many people were at your wedding, etc. Some of these questions, on the other hand, can be about the future. You might get asked if you plan on having kids, that kind of thing. In fact, in some cases, you could even potentially have what’s called a “Stokes” interview. That’s one where the USCIS will put you and your spouse in separate rooms, trying to see if your stories match up. We understand that the idea of an interview about your relationship can be stressful, frustrating, and the like. Before you and yours go into the interview, we can make sure that you’re as prepared and comfortable as possible.

Multiple Ways to Come to America to Live the Life You Want Getting a green card through your spouse is a fine way to immigrate to America, a path that we have helped many to take over the years. That having been said, it’s just one of the ways that we can help you to immigrate to this country. If you want to immigrate to the United States, we encourage you to reach out to us. Whether you know how you would like to do so or if you would like to know more about your options, you can reach us through our site or by giving us a call.

[sepanbanquet]

Where Wedding Dreams Meet Luxury at Banquet Halls in Glendale

Welcome to the world of platinum weddings, where the most amazing combinations of luxury and love are found. Sepan Banquet Hall is a location that perfectly captures this grandeur in the heart of Glendale, which is well known for its beauty and elegance. It’s a location where aspirations are vividly brought to life rather than merely imagined. Let’s travel through this magical world of banquet halls in Glendale, where elegance and extravagance permeate every corner.

Platinum Planning Tips Arranging a high-end wedding in Los Angeles is a skill that requires a careful balancing act between extravagance and minute attention to detail. A platinum wedding’s distinctiveness and customization are the keys to success.

Themes and Decor: When choosing a theme, think timeless elegance meets modern luxury. . Whether it’s a modern, stylish affair or a timeless romance from a fairy tale, the theme should represent your own journey. Think of elegant color schemes, large-scale flower arrangements, and custom installations for décor that make an impact. Personal Touches: A platinum wedding is elevated by the little details. A touch of exclusivity is added with personalized stationery, monogrammed invitations, and distinctive guest goodies for family and family. From a spectacular entrance to a memorable send-off, consider crafting an immersive experience for your guests. Each moment should seem like a celebration of your special love story. Latest Tech: A platinum wedding may also be made even more spectacular by incorporating technology. Think of innovative ideas like digital guestbooks where guests can leave heartfelt video messages, or live streaming services for loved ones who can’t attend in person. At Sepan Banquet Hall, we make sure that these technologies are seamlessly included, enhancing the event without detracting from its elegant nature. These contemporary elements appeal to modern couples who want to combine innovation and tradition for their wedding. Gourmet Delights The culinary arts are at the forefront of any memorable wedding experience. A cuisine fit for a platinum wedding needs to be both delicious and elegant.

Outstanding Cuisine: Offering a diverse range of flavors, the culinary crew at our hall specializes in Mediterranean, International, and Mexican cuisines. Every meal, from sophisticated canapés to decadent main dishes, is expertly prepared using only the best ingredients and presented in a polished manner.

Bespoke Menus: Sepan Banquet Hall provides the option to design custom menus since our team understands that your culinary tastes are as distinctive as your love tale. The staff at Sepan collaborates with you to create a culinary experience that matches your preferences and wows your guests, whether you’re thinking of serving a gourmet multi-course meal or an exquisite buffet.

Venue Highlight Sepan Banquet Hall, one of the top banquet halls in Glendale, is the height of elegance for your golden wedding. Its adaptability is what truly sets it apart from other options, giving it the ideal canvas for your upscale party.

Luxurious Spaces: With its opulent ballrooms and chic decor, Sepan Banquet Hall provides an ambiance of sophistication. For your big day, the hall’s lofty ceilings, crystal chandeliers, and exquisite furniture create a grand atmosphere. Versatility for Your Vision: Sepan’s adaptable venues can be customized to match your vision, whether it’s an intimate gathering or a grand soiree. The versatile nature of our venues makes it the top choice among couples seeking a one-of-a-kind wedding venue in Glendale. Lightning and Acoustics: The lighting and acoustic features of Sepan Banquet Hall are yet another unique feature. Whether you want a bright, lively environment or a delicate, romantic glow, the appropriate lighting can completely change a room and create an ambiance that goes with your chosen theme. Our cutting-edge sound system makes sure that every note, whether it’s from a DJ, a live band, or the exchanging of vows, sounds clear and unique. These technical aspects are handled with precision and attention to keep the atmosphere as elegant as the rest of your platinum wedding.

The Sepan Difference When it comes to Glendale banquet halls, Sepan Banquet Hall really stands out for its dedication to providing an unmatched wedding experience.

Attention to Detail: Our staff at Sepan are experts in luxury events.. Their meticulous attention to detail guarantees a stress-free and perfect wedding day from the very beginning of preparation to the very end.

Personalized Service: Every couple at Sepan is special, and so ought to be their wedding. In order to make sure that your wedding is more than simply an occasion but rather a representation of your own style and love tale, the team goes above and beyond to offer tailored services.

Sepan’s Signature Touch on Your Special Day The selection you make about the location of your ideal platinum wedding in Glendale will impact the atmosphere of the whole event. Sepan Banquet Hall is unquestionably the best option in banquet halls in Glendale for anyone looking for style, sophistication, and a personalized experience.

In the hands of Sepan’s experienced team, your wedding day will be more than just an event; it will be a lasting memory, a celebration of love at its most luxurious. At Sepan Banquet Hall, we don’t just host weddings; we craft experiences that are as unforgettable as they are luxurious.

[eternal3d2d]

#3dArt #3dartgalleries #LifeCelebration #VirtualFuneral

[photoboothla]

The Importance of Photo Booths in LA Weddings

In the city of angels, where every moment is a potential Instagram-worthy snapshot, incorporating a photo booth into your LA wedding can elevate the celebration to new heights. Here's a closer look at the importance of photo booths in LA weddings:

1. Memorable Keepsakes:

Instant Prints: Photo Booth LA offer instant gratification with on-the-spot prints. Guests can take home tangible, personalized mementos from your special day, creating lasting memories of your wedding.

2. Entertainment Factor:

Interactive Fun: LA is known for its lively and entertainment-centric atmosphere. Photo booths provide an interactive and enjoyable element, keeping guests engaged and creating a fun atmosphere throughout the event.

3. Celebrity-Style Experience:

Red Carpet Vibes: LA weddings often embrace a touch of celebrity glamour. A photo booth with a red carpet backdrop and props allows guests to experience a taste of the Hollywood lifestyle, making them feel like stars attending a premiere.

4. Unique Guestbook Alternative:

Personalized Guestbook: The photos captured in the booth can be incorporated into a unique guestbook. Instead of traditional signatures, guests can leave heartfelt messages alongside their photo strips, creating a personalized keepsake for the couple.

5. Customization for Themes:

Themed Backdrops and Props: LA weddings often follow unique themes. Photo booths allow you to customize backdrops and props to align with your theme, whether it's a beachside celebration, a Hollywood-inspired event, or a chic urban soirée.

6. Social Media Sharing:

Instant Social Media Sharing: In a city where social media is a way of life, photo booths offer the perfect opportunity for instant sharing. Guests can upload their photos directly to social platforms, creating a real-time buzz around your wedding.

7. Candid Moments and Expressions:

Capture the Unscripted: Professional photographers capture planned moments, but photo booths catch the unscripted, candid expressions of joy, laughter, and love. These moments are often the most cherished.

Conclusion

In a city known for its creativity and celebration, photo booths have become an integral part of the modern LA wedding experience. Photo Booth LA provides a dynamic and entertaining element that aligns perfectly with the city's vibrant and diverse wedding culture, ensuring that every guest leaves with not only memories but tangible tokens of the joyous occasion.

#Photo Booth LA