#I hope that version of me gets my good vibes through the time line or something

[xpeachesncream]

seven with you | bands drabble (jjk)

↳ drabbles masterlist

yours (ft. the bands!couple) | drabble seven: it’s time for jungkook’s solo debut and you have a few feelings about it.

word count: 2.9k

warnings: cussing, mature language, oc experiencing jealousy and insecurity, oc is very supportive but inevitably feels insecure and scared, kook being protective of his family as always, soft and sweet unprotected sex, cowgirl 🤠, making out, neck kisses, sprinkle of breast play, pls excuse any errors as i quickly whipped this up!

a/n: anon, this is for you! 💞 ironically this is my 7th drabble for the couple 😅 hehe coming back to continue feeding into all the thoughts, fantasies, etc etc because of seven promotions. much love, hope you enjoy! so sorry if i missed anyone on my perm taglist, its been so long! i’ll be back again soon 🥰

"So, what's hyung doing? Is he still at rehearsal?" Kai asks on the other line as you sit on the hotel bed, scrolling through your laptop.

"Yeah, he's still rehearsing for tomorrow."

"Do you know anything about the video?" You chuckle a bit and shake your head as if your little brother can see you.

"Mm, no.. besides who's involved. He wanted to keep it a surprise."

"Interesting." Kai laughs. "You're going in blindly with everyone else."

"I sure am." You laugh. "But, it'll be good! I'll get to experience this with everyone. I know it'll be amazing no matter what."

"How come you didn't wanna be in the video?"

"It's not that, I just always told Kook that he shouldn't let me hinder his process. If he wants me involved, then he can get me involved. If not and he chooses to do his own thing, then I'll sit back and support as I always do."

"Truthfully, did you want to be in the video?"

"I mean.." You hum as you tilt your head to the side. "It would've been cute."

"Then, why did you say no?"

"Kai. I just.. didn't want him to feel obligated. Plus, to be frank, I wasn't even sure if I was comfortable. I think Kook could tell, and he didn't wanna force it after that. Or, maybe he just had a revelation and thought it’d be better off not involving me.” You joke.

"Nothing is better off without you, you know that. But, of course. I get everything else that you’re saying.”

"I trust his process, though. I always do."

"True." He laughs. "Okay, shoot. It's about to release." You keep your eyes on the laptop as the music video starts, keeping your brother on the line as he promised he'd watch with you. He was currently at the Choi residence while you ventured out to New York with Jungkook— supporting him from the sidelines for the beginning of his 'Seven' promotions.

You smile as you see Jungkook and Han So Hee together at the table, praising her for being so beautiful and flawless. You giggle every now and then at Jungkook, but then you start to fix on the little details;

The chase.

His effort— though a bit much that it makes you giggle, the effort is there.

The way he looks at her, waits for her at the end.

Holds her hand and walks along her side.

Maybe you should've said yes to being in the video in the first place, then you wouldn't be in this predicament. Though, she fits well. The vibe is immaculate.

Their dynamic? Strong.

Let's take a moment to be real: part of you felt a little jealous at her flawless execution, a little insecure observing how perfect she is. It seems a bit silly if you generally look at it since Jungkook was Jungkook. But, you couldn't help it. You still weren't used to it, even if you reminded yourself every day that your man was Jeon Jungkook.

Even if you reminded yourself of your story with Jeon Jungkook.

Kai is still on the phone, slightly pulling you back to reality with his comments about how 'good hyung looked in the video' and how 'they worked well together.' He must have been tiptoeing with his words, especially when he quickly flips the script and starts to mention the explicit version that still needed to be listened to.

You follow the lead, playing it on your computer while Kai sat on speaker phone. You can hear the audible gasps coming from his end, your own eyes widening at the switch in the lyrics, the sudden shift of the entire song.

Although you were incredibly proud of Jungkook for continuing to step out of his comfort zone, you felt yourself shrinking and shrinking—

Falling into the never-ending pit of insecurity, jealousy, assumptions, what if's, etc etc.,

It was past midnight. Why was rehearsal taking forever?

Felt like hours, and hours.

"The explicit version— I— Wow. There is a lot to unpack here. But, I can't even say that I'm surprised. Hyung pulls it off well. Wanna be like him some day. He just doesn't care what anybody thinks, and he's so cool." Kai laughs with Yeonjun in the background as they continue to listen to the explicit version with you. You hear a faint 'I don't think this version was meant for us' coming from Yeonjun, a small giggle leaving your lips at their commentary.

"Stop." You say just as Jungkook gives three light knocks on the door before tapping the key against the reader and swinging it open. "Hey, I'll call you back later okay? Jungkook just got back."

"Okay! Tell hyung congrats on the solo debut and that we really liked it!"

"I will. Love you."

"Love you too!" He says as he hangs up the call. Jungkook strolls in with a big smile on his face as he types away at his phone, small giggles leaving his lips as he approaches you on the bed.

"Babygirl." He smiles at and you places a quick kiss on your lips. "Was that Kai?"

"Yeah, it was." You give him a tiny, pursed smile. "He said congrats on the solo debut and that him and his friends really liked everything." Jungkook pauses before he responds because he's typing another message before shoving his phone back into his pocket.

"Aw, thanks. That's my guy. Can always count on him." You let out a tiny laugh before avoiding his eyes, silently looking down at your laptop and letting your finger swipe across the trackpad. "You didn't have to wait up, love."

"Of course I did. I needed to catch it at release." You look up at him briefly. "How was rehearsal?"

"Fucking tiring, but we got through it. I'm excited for everyone to see the performances." He smiles and sits next to you. "So, what'd you think?"

"You two were great together, Kook. It was great.” You simply state.

"We were, weren't we? She was so helpful. And I felt at ease, like I didn't have to try much. She was such a natural at everything, it made things go by a lot smoother.”

"I can tell." You respond softly— probably a little too softly because Jungkook's smile slightly fades. Then, the thoughts start to swarm again just as you look at him. You quickly divert your attention by subtly biting onto your bottom lip, looking towards the hotel window when cars are honking their horns out on the street.

Of course, they were assumptions.

But of course, they were stupid, silly little thoughts stemming from your insecurity; occupying every corner of your brain, making you believe this skewed perception, this-whole-thing-that-is-a-thing-but-not-really-a-thing-because-there-aren't-any-facts-to-back-it-up—

"Hey." He pulls you out of your thoughts by taking your chin and making your eyes meet his own deep, brown orbs. "Talk to me, baby. I can hear you thinking. D-did you not like it? It's okay if not, you know? You can tell me. I value your opinion more than anything"

"What, no!" You shake your head. "I mean, no, of course I loved it. I loved every bit of it. It's amazing, and you know you always blow me away with everything you do." You cup his cheeks and let out a soft sigh. "I really do think you're amazing. I just.. maybe part of me kind of regrets not doing this with you?" He lets out a small breath before taking your hands in his and placing a gentle kiss on your palm.

"Are you saying that just because you saw her in the video?"

"Maybe? And, it did look easy. Everything looked so natural, especially for her. You two meshed well. I—I don’t know. I’m not really sure where I’m going with this anymore."

"Hm." He hums before tapping your thigh and bringing you onto his lap. You brush the hair out of his face while he wraps his arm around your waist, laying a gentle kiss on your cheek. "Baby, you know when I told you about it, I could tell you weren't comfortable with the idea. The last thing I wanna do is make you uncomfortable or unhappy."

"No, I know, Kook. It's not your fault. Trust me. It was beautiful and I really enjoyed it. I just.. felt a bit insecure especially since you didn't push on it. I thought you realized I wouldn’t work. She was way better and you totally saw that. You had this vision with her, and the thought made me feel a bit jealous too. I guess."

"I know this is easier said than done, but don't be. I love you." He brushes the hair away from your face this time. "You don't have to go out of your way to stand out or catch my attention. You don't have to prove anything to me, anyone. Plus, part of me felt kinda dumb for implying the idea knowing how it'd make you feel and how much attention it'd bring."

"What do you mean?"

"I realized it was probably better off this way simply because I didn't want people to paint this picture about us, or to assume our relationship was a certain way. I know there's already lots of things to be said about the video or the song itself, about our story— but at the end of the day, they don't know us like we know us and I'd prefer to keep it that way."

Because even though the relationship is out there, it's not out there. Jungkook tries to keep things balanced, keeping things private as much as possible out of safety— to create boundaries between his professional and private life. He would always put you and Kai first, keeping your safety, your comfortability and your happiness a priority.

Over everything, anything.

The moment he felt your uneasiness while mentioning the video, he retracted. He never wanted to force you, or make you do something that was too out of your comfort zone. He didn't want to cross that line of putting too much out there because he was happy with how things were. It was enough, just enough. And that's all he needed.

You were happy, Kai was happy.

Why would he ever push and ruin that?

"You're right. I understand."

"I hope that helps put you at ease a bit, princess. You can always talk to me about it. There was really no other reason behind me not pushing the idea." He caresses your cheek. "Okay? Nothing else." He kisses your cheek, before your lips. He gently taps the side of your hips before adjusting you on his lap and having you straddle him full on. You wrap your arms around his neck while he stares at you in pure adoration, a smile painted across his lips before he speaks again— "You're my muse. You're in everything that I do, bits of you are sprinkled everywhere. Everywhere that I go, songs that I've created, lyrics scribbled on paper, doodles on my notebook— everything." His hands travel up your sides, giving them a tiny squeeze as he lets out a small exhale against your lips. "You will always be my muse."

"I'm sorry, Jungkook."

"Don't be sorry." He chuckles a bit. "Everything you felt was valid, and I always want you to come to me about these things." You rest your forehead against his.

"I really did enjoy it, though. You always blow me away with everything you do." You kiss him just as you wrap your arms tightly around his neck.

"Yeah?" He chases after your lips, large hands grazing your back as he holds you close to him.

"Mhm." You giggle before poking the tip of his nose. "And uh, the explicit version of the song— we listened to it right before you walked in."

"Cool, huh?" You laugh and shake your head.

"You're crazy."

"You know.." He smirks before biting onto his bottom lip. "Think there's a little bit more explaining I can do for that one. But, I think it'd be better if I showed you."

"Oh?" You watch as Jungkook tears his beanie off and tosses it aside. "I think that'd be good." He leans forward for another kiss— but this time, it's deep. Deep enough for Jungkook to take in a strong inhale through his nose, shakily letting out an exhale once he parts from your lips. He doesn't waste any time before he's kissing you again, tongue swiping against your bottom lip before easing it in. His fingers trace your bare skin underneath your shirt, tips digging into your sides again when he feels you slowly rock against him— his length growing incredibly hard beneath you.

"Yeah, it would be good. Right?" He lets out a small moan in between kisses, hissing when he feels your lips make their way down to his jaw, neck. His hands travel to the hem of the shirt you're wearing, slowly prying it off and tossing it aside. He continues to sit on the edge of the bed while you straddle him, your hands now fiddling with his shirt before he pulls it over his head and joins yours off to the side.

"You aren't tired?" You lay some lazy kisses along his throat, sucking and nipping gently on the surface while his fingers tug at the fabric of your panties.

"Nope, not anymore." You make your way back up to his lips, relishing in every kiss, every squeeze— every bit of Jungkook. Midway, he finally helps you out of your panties before shifting his sweats and boxers down enough to let his cock spring free.  

"You sure?" You tease as you waste no time wrapping your hand around his member, pumping him a few times while listening to him let out a few moans.

"Positive, baby. Need you." He mutters as he signals for you to sink down his length. You do as told, slowly, easily, sinking down until he completely fills you up and bites his bottom lip. "Just like that. Right where you should be."

"Feel so full already, Kook." He chuckles as he adjusts himself better on the bed, tattooed hands traveling up your back, caressing your body, as he showers your tits with kisses. He takes a nipple into his mouth, tongue circling around the hardened peak before pulling back with a pop. Just as you continue to roll against him, he takes the other— giving his tongue a little more freedom to explore before sucking and giving it a quick pop. He continues to shower your chest with feathery kisses, moving to your shoulders and arms while you continue to set the tempo.

"So good— fuck." He moans. "You're doing so good, baby." He tightens his grip around your hips as he continues to praise you. "Just like that." He repeats. You whine, lips grazing his as you work him, ride him— feeling every inch of Jungkook inside of you. The way that your walls engulf him— squeeze him— with every roll of your hips makes it hard for him to hold on. Though, he can tell you're slowly tipping over the edge.

It's the way your face contorts in pleasure.

Your inaudible, silent moans.

The way your body stiffens when you work against him, relishing every bit of his cock before repeating the rhythm.

And he's right, you are close. So close. Jungkook pulls you into a sloppy, wet kiss before he slightly backs away to observe your face, you. He chases after your lips once more, biting onto your bottom lip and making you let out a moan that sounds like music to his ears.

The chase.

His effort.

The way he looks at you in pure adoration, easing you to the edge to see you in pure ecstasy.

Holding you close, keeping his hands on you at all times.

You continue picking up the pace a bit, causing enough friction against your heat. Jungkook calls your name, whispering sweet nothings against your lips as his hand rests on the nape of your neck— the other hand still on your hip. He starts to match your rhythm, your tone, thrusting upwards into you to fully tip you over the edge.

"Kook, I'm— I'm gonna— fuck." You whine as you become desperate, feeling the high settle into the pit of your gut. Finally, you tremble against him and moan loudly against him; hand squeezing his tattooed bicep, the other tangled in his black locks.

"That's it. Good girl." He caresses your back, continuing to thrust himself into you even as you try to come back down from your high. But now, he's there, and he's desperate for his own release. "You're my babygirl. You're everything to me. Everything." You moan loudly with him as he gives you one, two, powerful thrusts. "Everything that I do, everywhere I go. You're my muse. You're mine." He says against your ear, panting as he snaps his hips against you at a faster pace while holding you close; the sound of flesh against flesh filling the room. It's not long before Jungkook is coming undone, the aftershocks still rippling through your body. His cheek is pressed against yours as he pants and lets out a few whines, your walls milking every last bit of him until the very end.

"Kook." You whisper. "I love you. I'm so proud of you and I love you." He laughs lazily as he rubs at your hips.

"I love you too, princess. Good enough explanation for that?"

"Maybe." You giggle as you hop off and scurry off to the bathroom for a quick shower.

"I mean.. we can do more—" He trails behind you and welcomes himself into the shower.

"Jungkook, you need to be up in 3 hours." Your voice echoes in the shower and Jungkook scrunches his nose.

"And?" He laughs. "Running on no sleep is how I work."

"You're too much." You giggle when Jungkook turns you around and wraps his arms around you.

"Baby, baby, baby." He says smugly. "There's more that I'll need to show you, especially for the album."

"Jungkook." You try to scold him but you squeal when he has you wrap your legs around him and presses your back against the tiled wall— the night only leading to more sweet nothings, praises and genuine love. Jungkook loving on you, just as you with him.

Because, you are his muse. You are in everything he does, bits of you sprinkled in everything.

No matter the circumstance. No matter the day, time, year.

You will always be his muse.

permanent taglist: @spideyjimin​ @miinoongi​ @thebeebi​ @ggukkieland​ @bluesharksandfish​ @unicornbabylover​ @preciouschimine​ @codeinebelle​ @shesoldbutcute​ @jikookiekosmos​ @awhnamjoon​ @namjooningelsewhere​ @bunnybearrj​ @babycoffeefire​ @bri-mal​ @sintaethick​ @taejkjoons​ @love2luvya-blog​ @pb-n-juju​ @dianaxnyc​ @fan-ati--c​ @jungjoonie​ @jcsmae​ @favouritesblog​ @ppeachyttae​ @awseokjin​ @jjk1iscoming​ @moonchild1​ @vantxx95​ @genzslayer @knjeuphoria​ @jksjx​ @oogawooga222​ @yoonqki @halesandy​ @chimchimmarie​ @chimsworldsstuff​ @persphonesorchid​

#bts #bts fanfiction #bts scenarios #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #jk x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bands couple #bts fluff #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook fluff #jk fluff #jk smut #xpeachesncream

[theerurishipper]

Welcome to me watching the Paris special, this time with commentary! I watched the special and wrote down everything here as I watched it and forgot to post it cause I'm a dumbass. Also, this is long asf, in fact, it's so long that I had to make a Part 2.

Okay here goes!

Ah, the Gabriel version of the theme. This really took me by surprise. It's fire tho.

Straight into the action, I like it.

Max and Markov aren't different people in this?

That's some entrance from Shady and Claw, really ups the stakes. Makes you wonder why Nino tried to fight them with a nerf gun.

Ubiquity is so pretty.

I might be the only one who liked the Gabe scene we got.

Feeling some nostalgia for the candy cane cosplay ngl.

And we get a good scene with Adrien and Plagg. I liked the advice Plagg gave about how not all destruction is bad. Neat.

Some Alya and Marinette. Marinette is going through some tough times and is in need of support, and Tikki takes this opportunity to escape from her and steal macaroons. No hate tho, you do you Tikki.

Though she does react to the people of Paris cheering for Ladybug. That was sweet.

Alya turns into Ubiquity, and then we get... Betterfly.

Betterfly? Seriously? Coulda just gone with Hesperia.

"I'm not sure there's anything to hope for from Ladybug." My poor baby!

Love the look of absolute confusion on Alya's face.

Hesperia's confusion about his evil counterpart is really funny ngl.

SHADYBUG

"There, you can have your boyfriend back~" love the delivery on that line lmao.

But also, CLAW NOIR

Not her just stealing his belt immediately.

Marinette hates Adrien Agreste. This truly is the reverse world.

But also, I love Claw Noir pretending to be his own fan to impress Shadybug.

Claw Noir sure does love using that Cataclysm.

For someone who just woke up to see her friend gone and a hole in the wall, Alya collected herself pretty damn quick. I would be freaking the fuck out in her position. Just another reason she's the best.

RIP Alya's phone. Gabe really did a number on you.

Shadybug makes a butterfly tracker, proving that she ain't no Gabe.

Hesperia is befuddled by our world, Part 2.

It's always gotta be the Eiffel Tower, doesn't it.

Claw Noir's pulling a Chat Blanc?? Hello??

Hesperia (I'm not gonna call him Betterfly) is apparently a gentleman. It's almost disturbing after 5 seasons of Gabe being the worst piece of shit to grace our screens.

I guess no matter the universe and moral alignment, it's Gabriel's fate to get beaten up by teenagers.

Not Tikki loredumping about parallel universes right now lmao

Times like this remind me that Tikki is, for all intents and purposes, a god.

"You'd die before I could ever explain all this to you," is actually a pretty valid (and disturbingly hilarious) justification for not having bothered to bring any of this up before.

The Supreme is someone I'd like to learn more about. I've narrowed the suspects down to either Fu or Su-Han. Watch it be Lila instead if we ever get that info.

I feel like the info about the timers is something we should have gotten way, way earlier. Like, a few seasons ago.

Ladybug's triumphant entrance!

"Whatever, pest." Queen.

I love Claw Noir's staff.

Shadybug took no prisoners at all.

CHAT NOIR

Destruction vibes, and right after that incident too.

Claw Noir is unhinged.

Claw Noir just fucking cataclysmed himself??? Guess Adrien is always gonna be self-destructive in every universe huh?

Welp, looks like Chat Noir is officially re-traumatized.

I want y'all to remember that this boy went through the whole special with a cataclysm wound on his person and did not falter once. Mad respect.

Chat Noir got tossed. Chat Blanc call back number 2.

Obsessed with the way Bryce Papenbrook pronounces "cockroach."

Finally, a villain who actually gets rid of the Lucky Charm. Hawkie, take notes.

"Who the cat are you?"

So Shadybug can create whatever Lucky Charm she wants, huh?

Someone's been listening to the fandom.

Not the time freezing lmfao

I don't like that Gabe is turning Adrien into an angel, even if this is a good version. Anyway, Chat Blanc call back 3.

"Kitty catty" "Later loser!" I love her.

Of course, not all bugs can fly.

He moved out of the way.

I fucking love Claw Noir so much you guys, he's so funny.

Well, he tried. Shadybug's just better than him ig.

Hesperia stores his butterfly in his cane. So it's just our Gabe that tries to keep multiple butterflies, I guess.

I think they should kiss.

So they're doing this in hopes that The Supreme spares them? Interesting, and pretty sad.

They're so scared of the Akuma lmfao

If I was Alya, I'd have given myself away by now. Actually, I wouldn't have had the presence of mind to even hide.

Guess the counterparts are from some dystopian world ruled by The Supreme. It tracks with the look we got at it in the opening.

"In order to get something I wanted." We saw the Peacock Miraculous in the opening too, and also Emilie died. So I guess Adrien is a Sentimonster in the other reality too. Damn it.

I guess this Gabe realized his mistake instead of descending into madness like ours.

She just broke Marinette's box like it was nothing. So much for that.

Claw Noir lounges around playing with dolls and mocks Shadybug for being lazy while she does all the work and he lazes around. Have I mentioned yet that I love him?

Also I am glad they stayed true to Adrien's character and had him play with dolls.

The whole part about Chat Noir... be still my Ladynoir heart.

Love how they incorporated the webisodes into this. About time those had relevance.

Shadybug really "hates" Claw Noir.

Marinette's having doubts, my poor baby girl.

Shadybug and Claw Noir have power, but not their strength. That's a really good line.

She's reading the diary and crying... baby.

This is such a touching scene. I don't say that lightly, but it really is.

SHE FOUND THE WISH

Marinette really wrote down every single world ending secret in this one poorly protected diary huh.

She literally took him down in 2 seconds. Bruh.

IDENTITY REVEAL! THIS IS NOT A DRILL, I REPEAT, THIS IS NOT A DRILL

Shadybug managed to achieve in 2 seconds what Marinette and Adrien have not achieved after 5 seasons of Love Square drama which I admittedly enjoy but that's not the point.

Those strange... marks? Cracks? Scars?

Blots off... I'm dying y'all.

Reverse Love Square? Hello??? HELLO???

She literally just beat his ass, tied him up and took his Miraculous and this is his reaction once he realizes who she is.

He's down so bad.

They should have played Careless Whisper here.

CUTIE PIE, MY SON

The Supreme is such a fucking asshole, he gagged the Kwamis.

Emonette wants our Marinette's life? She doesn't know the half of what she's getting into.

The Supreme got to the wish somehow? What the fuck?

"Reality is The Supreme." I don't know who this guy is, but he is DELULU.

This shot... masterfully done. My poor baby girl.

These kids are not okay. My poor sweet babies.

Daggers out. Seriously, stop it, you two.

He's trying to comfort her. They're just... I'm in pain. I'm so sad for them y'all.

Gabe in his prototype Monarch outfit.

Good thing (for him at least) he had the Ox, or else this would be his second cataclysm of the day.

Ladybug and Chat Noir are back in action, baby.

I'm sorry, I would not be able to say Betterfly unironically without bursting into laughter.

AFTER 5 SEASONS, WE FINALLY GET TO SEE CHAT NOIR'S NIGHT VISION AGAIN

Not that they needed it lmao

Alya coming in clutch with the recording. Queen.

LADYNOIR LADYNOIR LADYNOIR

It's so so so nice to see Ladynoir on screen again after Season 5 killed it.

Hit the word limit, so continued here.

#MLB #Miraculous Ladybug #Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain Cheng #Gabriel Agreste #Alya Cesaire #Ladybug #Shadybug #Chat Noir #Cat Noir #Claw Noir #Toxinelle #Griffe Noire #Ubiquity #Hesperia #Monarch #Hawkmoth #Betterfly #Miraculous World #ML Paris Special #My meta #ML Spoilers #ML Paris Spoilers #Shadyclaw #Ladynoir #Adrienette #Meta

[fariesoiree]

caution! mdni 13k wrdz, best friend's bother!hobie x black fem! reader, hobie is twenty one, reader is 19, small town in the country, everyone knows everyone, a very brief moment of angst, reader is jealous, misunderstanding troupe (?) but quickly resolved, crybaby reader, kitchen sex w/people in the house, unprotected sex, fingering, handjob, cunnilingus, p in v sex, unprotected sex, facial, cum eating, open ending

miffy's note! this took me like two weeks to write which is so much faster than every other fic i’ve written in a while. i knowwww she has a lot of words but she is my baby and I hope everyone loves her as much as I do. enjoy <3 pls do not spam like my blog if you enjoyed it, feel free to tell me in the reblogs

there’s a waxy smell in the freshly opened soda shop, one that reminds you of the shiny tiles that line the floor of the high school you graduated from, the high school most people graduated from.

highbury high, smack dab in the middle of highbury hills. it’s the only high school for miles, operating on a set curriculum and generic uniforms. fits right in with the small town vibe.

“do you know what you want?” your long-time friend, maise, glances over at you. she’s a darling thing, curly hair braided into pigtails and tied with two white ribbons. her arms are crossed over her stomach, clothed in a white tank top just barely cropped. “there’s so many options, i can’t decide.”

you sniff, eyes glazing over the yellow tinted menu. your tongue skims over your lips, getting a taste of the vanilla flavored lip gloss. “i dunno. i don’t even think i want anything. i’m too nervous, like i’m gonna throw up.”

maise’s deer shaped eyes find yours in sympathetic understanding. “aw, honey. it’ll be okay. it’s been years, now. i doubt he even remembers.” her hands massage the kinks out your tense shoulders in a tight grip. “you were a kid, anyway.”

“yeah, maybe.” you offer a small smile in return. you find you’re disinterested in the menu, stomach rolling in its queasiness for the anticipated scenario. “i still don’t think i want anything. i don’t think i could keep it down.”

maise just shrugs and orders a rootbeer float for herself. she gets your anxiety but she’s never been the best at helping you through your emotions, even more so when she can’t relate. maise doesn’t have an older brother, not one with an attractive best friend that she used to have a crush on as a child.

with the acrylic, milkshake cup settled between the fingers of your friend, you both move towards the booths surrounding the perimeter of the retro-styled shop.

it’s really, very cute. quaint with pop music softly wafting from the speakers and a red, white, and blue theme consistent throughout. america’s sweetheart is what this place is known as, although you prefer to think it’s talking about a better, more ethical version of the country.

“you have to admit it’s kind of exciting, though.” despite your claims, maise still pops a second straw into the float and settles the cup between you. “i mean, your brother and hobie are coming home today and you haven’t seen hobie in like, two years. the last time anyone saw him was on graduation day, right? and then he packed up and left town. and your brother! he kept contact this whole time and didn’t tell anyone? doesn’t that bother you a little bit?”

you wait until she’s retreated to grab the straw between your thumb and pointer finger and tap a long, drawn out sip. the sugary sweetness does nothing to quell your nerves but it gives you time to come up with a response. “mm, not really. hobie is quen’s friend. plus, everyone knew he was gonna skip town. he didn’t like it here and he made that very clear.”

although your words convey otherwise, there’s a small seed of discomfort in your tummy. it would have been nice to keep you in loop, especially since you were under the impression that you and hobie were somewhat acquainted with each other. after all, he’s been good friends with quentin since elementary school and has known you for just about the same amount of time.

“okay but you’re not even curious? not even a little?” maise tilts her head inquisitively, lips drawn in a pout. “hobie is coming home after being gone for two whole years and you don’t care at all.”

“i didn't say i don’t care, mai. i do care and it's nice that he’s stopping by for a visit but let’s be serious, it’s hobie. in all the years we’ve known him, when has he ever committed to anything?” you turn your gaze towards your baby pink nails, shiny and just long enough to clack against your phone when you text. “i don’t want you to get excited over a summer romance that hasn’t even happened and won’t happen. we’re friends and barely that. his loyalty is with quen.”

you can feel the change in the atmosphere the longer you sit in silence. you’re hesitant to look her in the eyes and find a sudden interest in the condensation trickling down the side of the glass.

“uh huh. so if you feel all of that, why are you nervous? you don’t like hobie anymore, and he owes you nothing. what’s the problem then?” she rests her cheek in the palm of her hand, supported by the elbow resting on the table.

instead of answering her question, your hand smacks down against the table. it echoes in the empty room, filled by only you two and mr. terry, the owner of the shop.

“you know what, i have to go. it’s almost three and quen should be home soon. you know how punctual he is.” you grab your purse and sling the strap over your shoulder.

“chicken!” maise points a finger at you. she’s glowing with a toothy grin while watching you prepare to bolt for the door. “you can’t avoid it forever, honey.”

you brush off her comment with a hug and a wave. “whatever. love you. i’ll call you tonight with the details, maybe. bye!”

you all but run out of the shop, white sundress blowing with the opposing force of your movement. it’s not quite three o’clock yet but leaving is better than letting maise interrogate you further. she’s a riot but she got you pinned up against the wall and there’s nothing fun about being forced to answer her questions and face the music you’ve been tuning out for weeks. at least now you’d have some time to freshen up before the great arrival.

by the time you’re finished primping and set the hot curler down to refresh your styled silk press, you can hear the engine of your brother's lexus rolling into the driveway.

you lean forward and tug the curtains back in a firm grip to peak out into the driveway. between you and quentin, you received the larger room with the connected bathroom and it offered a perfect view of the front yard. said view is particularly handy for times like these.

you watch the driver door pop open, breath hitched in your throat and refuse to make any movements until you get the answers you're looking for.

a polished sneaker makes its appearance and becomes stationed on the white pavement. a body follows, tall and stocky and unlike the statuesque frame you’re subconsciously excited about.

pushing yourself even more to your feet and across the expanse of your vanity, you flick the latch of your window until it clicks to signal its unlocked. you push it up with such force that it soars much farther than you anticipated but that’s the least of your concerns right now.

“quentin!” you yell from your bedroom with a wide smile and a vigorous wave at your older brother below you.

your voice gets his attention and he snaps his head in your direction. “ ☆ !” he mirrors your expression, arms open wide in a hug as if he expected you to fly down into his embrace. he bumps the car door closed with his side. “i’m coming up.”

quentin’s words don’t stop you from flinging your door open, running down the stairs, fingertips grazing the wooden railing as you go. to some it may seem odd to be so cheery over the reappearance of your sibling but he’s your best friend, a staple part of your life to which you’d be lost without. if you aren’t running to the front door to see him, then there’s clearly a problem.

he’s already in the entryway, though, and peeling off his jacket to hang in the coat closet. the pittering of your feet long alerted quentin of your presence so he’s not shocked when you’re throwing yourself at him. “jeez, girl. did you eat a whole cow? you’re strong as shit.” his arm comes to wrap around your back and become settled between your shoulder blades.

“shut up,” you roll your eyes in return and separate yourself from him. you give him a once over, from the two strand twists at the top of his head, across the gray nike tech, and to the pristine white laces of his shoes. “wow, you really don’t look like you belong here anymore. that’s crazy, quen. you’re all grown up.”

“yeah well,” he pushes the closet door closed, waiting for its creaking hinges to silence before continuing his sentence, “gotta get out of this town someday. not you, though. you can stay. it suits you.” quentin’s eyes are filled with a brotherly fondness while giving you a similar once over. “where’s ma?”

you follow him to the bathroom to watch him wash his hands. “at work. dad, too. told me to text them when you get home but, uh, where’s all your stuff?”

quentin flicks his wrists into the sink and side-steps you. he rounds the corner to enter the kitchen, making a beeline for the fridge and popping it open. “oh, it’s at hobie’s place. i figured i’d leave the extra shit there since he has his own crib. do you know what mom’s making for dinner?”

you’re still trailing behind him, now leaned against the countertop with your arms crossed over your chest. when you’re face to face with the source of your turmoil, it’s hard to pretend it doesn’t exist. “so he really is back in town, huh.” it's not a question with the way you say it, staring at your fluffy sandals designated for wearing inside the house.

“mhm. forgot how talkative people here are. news spreads fast.” he pulls out a container of last night's leftovers and sets it beside you, already closing the fridge and moving on to find a plate. when his eyes find their way back to you, he’s surprised to see you glaring at him. “why are you looking at me like that?”

“because i’m a little upset that you didn’t tell me he was coming home. i get it if he didn’t want to draw attention to himself but it’s just me. i thought we were all cool.”

“we are all cool. it just slipped my mind, swear.” quentin bounces around the kitchen. he’s still engaged in your conversation though his sole focus is getting some food in his system but every now and then, he’ll glance at you while scooping fried rice onto a plate. “i didn’t intentionally not tell you. i just had a lot to do with the packing and the whole coming home thing. plus, you just finished your first year of college so i didn’t think you’d care so much. which you also still have to tell me how it went,” he puts the fork in his mouth and sticks the plate in the microwave.

“quentin,” you’re tempted to stomp your foot, no matter how childish it will come across.

“i didn’t exclude you on purpose, ☆ . i forgot and i’m sorry. next time, i’ll tell you as soon as i know.”

you’re somewhat pacified with his response, tossing his words over and over in your head until your concerns are soothed and the gloomy feeling dissipates. “fine but you have no idea what i had to go through with maise today. i swear she had all these theories and speculations about what its going to be like that i could have avoided if you told me.”

the microwave beeps, ringing its alarm that the timer has finished all throughout the kitchen. quentin is quick to take out his steaming plate and make his way towards the table with you still in tow. “oh, maise! how is she? i haven’t seen her in a minute.”

“she’s good. good grades, likes her college, majoring in child development. who cares, though. i want to know about hobie. it’s been two years.” you sit next to him, even going as far as pushing the chairs closer as if the topic needed it, as if hobie is a taboo subject.

“he’s great. he’ll be by later, said he wanted to stop by and see you and then he has to make his rounds.” quen shovels a forkful of food into his mouth. he’s eyeing his plate with an almost blank stare. you’re too close for him to feel comfortable looking at you, expectantly. as if he’s going to drop some big news about hobie’s return.

he's not an idiot. he knows, knew, about your crush on his best friend. it was obvious watching you go through all the childish phases, giggling to clinging onto to him to trying to play it cool. quentin has seen it all and he doesn’t think he can handle watching your excitement grow and dull when hobie ultimately makes his decision to leave. “he’s got that place he rents out when he’s not here. don’t know how long he plans on staying, though. when i asked, hobie said two months so i guess we’ll see.”

you’re blissfully unaware of the idea that quentin’s words are for your sanity, to calm the budding excitement as you gather strands of your hair between the tips of your fingers and stare at the freshly trimmed ends. “that’s nice. maybe he’ll come to the summer festival in a few days.”

that elicits a scoff out of your brother. “fat chance. hobie brown? he’s not showing his face at those things. he thinks they’re capitalistic holidays that prey on children. personally, i think he just really hates this town and is coming up with a bullshit excuse not to go.”

you let the bundle of hair between your fingers go and it drops back towards your shoulder in a soft heap. “did he say that or are you speaking for him?”

“he doesn’t have to say it, stupid. i just know.” quentin points his fork at you, flinging grains of cooked rice in your direction. despite the gross reaction that flashes across your face, all he does is laugh. genuine laughter with his head tilted back, clearly delighted to have bothered his dear sister. “it was an accident. i didn’t mean to.”

“get away from me.” you scrunch your face in disgust and shove the chair away from the table. it screeches against the floorboards with each movement. “you don’t point your fork at someone, dumbass. that’s fucking gross.” you say as you rise to your feet and make your exit, rolling your eyes on the way out.

it’s futile to pretend you aren’t looking forward to hobie pulling into the driveway. behind the closed door of your room, you barely watch the virgin suicides. the volume to the movie is turned down so low, you can almost hear your neighbor’s dog trotting on the pavement enjoying its walk. you’ve even gone as far as to open your window just in case you’d be too preoccupied to hear him as is.

you haven’t bothered to change out of the pretty dress, wanting to give off the best first impression you possibly could. after all these years have passed, it’s nearly critical that hobie sees you as you are, an adult. not because you still harbor feelings for him, but because that’s what you are now. you’re all grown up, just as he is.

quentin’s asleep in his room and offering you no answers as to when his friend is actually arriving nor did he request you to wake up when he does so. it’s only right to assume he’d rather stay asleep when hobie arrives then, isn’t it? especially after such a long trip.

hence why when the sound of hobie’s motorcycle reverberates through the glass pane of your window, you roll off your bed and to your feet with a sudden quickness. contrary to the excitement you greeted your brother with from your upstairs bedroom, you close the window the moment you reach it.

as soon as the white latch clinks shut, you’re flying out the door and down the stairs. the tips of your fingers graze the railing, only truly grasping it when you find yourself losing your balance at the speed you’re moving. if only maise could see you now.

you pull the front door open before hobie has a chance to ring the doorbell with such force, he flinches. there’s still a finger hanging in the air, adorned in silver rings and what seems to be a hand tattoo. that same hand is connected to a body, just as tall as you remember. your eyes trail as far as his shoulders, gaze already tilted upwards and too nervous to continue. it never occurred to you what being face to face with hobie would mean, would entail.

you didn’t think about him and his pine scent, paired with the natural musk of being outside. not once did you even think about the possible changes he’d go through within the past two years. even without looking at his face, you can already point out differences. he’s leaner, more muscles protruding from his tank top. grungier too, with dark wash baggy jorts sitting so low on his waist, you can see the calvin klein boxers peeking through the bottom. if you thought seeing hobie show off his toned stomach was a lot, the sight of the ink on his arm has you at a loss for words. a full sleeve of various line art and doodles.

you’re sick to your stomach.

“you’re back in town!” you finally gain the courage to look him in his eyes and nearly fall to your knees. “and you pierced your face!” your eyes dart between the nose piercing, the lip piercing, and the eyebrow piercing. slowly, you soak it all in, including the shoulder length locs tied into a ponytail. only after all of that do you look him in his eyes, filled with the same warmth and wonder as they were two years ago.

“ ☆ !” hobie’s face lights up with the same childlike glee as before, too. it’s like nothing has changed when he throws his arms around you to envelop you into a tight hug. “you noticed, did you?” he chuckles, deep and smooth right in your ear. unfortunately for you, it sends spirals into your stomach.

“do you like them? i want to get my tongue pierced this summer, too.” he finally pulls away and reveals his toothy grin, full of dazzling white teeth that can only come from regularly visiting a dentist. “but how have you been? i haven’t seen you in forever. you’re so . . .” he gives you his own once-over, much shorter than the one you gave him, “not a little kid anymore.”

you aren’t too sure what to make of that but you step aside anyway to welcome him into your home. suddenly, you’re far more nervous than you were at the mere thought of hobie coming over. he was intimidating just as a concept but in person? he’s even worse. he’s too pretty and composed. “i’m so not a little kid anymore?” you try to offset your awkwardness by turning the situation back to him.

“yeah. i mean, you look nice, ☆ .” hobie stands with his hands in his pockets and a lazy smile. there’s not one ounce of embarrassment or hesitation written on his face. however, it oozes out of you. “so, where’s your brother at? he’s supposed to be going around town with me. it makes it less weird if we’re both there.”

“oh, quen fell asleep a few minutes ago.” you say with your back to hobie, disguising your reluctance as a sudden interest in turning the lock rather slowly. “you’re welcome to wait until he wakes up but he’s out cold.”

hobie clicks his tongue with a sigh, eyeing the walls of your childhood home. it’s still lined with the same family portraits and kindergarten crafts. there’s even his own graduation picture on the mantle, sandwiched between yours and quentin’s. he snorts at the sight, dressed in the same black graduation cap and gown but missing some of the cords adorned by the others. not only was hobie not too involved in the community, but he merely did what he had to in school with the exception of a few clubs and hobbies. “no, he’ll probably be knocked for a while. i’ll just do it later, i guess.”

you nod, hugging yourself in a tight grip. your act to self soothe during your one-on-one isn’t very effective. the air feels thick with tension. you have the impression that it’s one-sided because hobie turns to face you. 

“how about you come with me instead? we can ride around and go to that one park we used to go to as kids.”

for a moment, your heart drops to your feet. staring into his eyes does nothing good for your nervous system. as much as you attempted to convince both maise and yourself that you harbor no feelings towards hobie at all, everything in you is screaming otherwise.

your eyes settle on the floorboards and you sniff. “i don’t know. i don’t think i’d feel comfortable on your bike. don’t you have to wear gear and stuff?”

“well, yeah i’m supposed to.” he shrugs. his head is tilted to one side. “i don’t, though. not here at least. if i’m on the highway or in a big city then yeah but not here. nothing ever happens here.”  parts of the hobie you subconsciously fear appear as a shadow on his face. the corners of his mouth twitch downwards and his eyes become clouded, but only for a second. “we can take your car if you’d like. i saw it in the driveway. it’s cute.”

he’s referring to the little volkswagen beetle parked just outside with a tan exterior and a decorated interior. it’s full of flower vent clips, pink seat covers, and scented with gain car air freshener.

“um,” you busy yourself by smoothing your hands over the skirt of your dress. suddenly, you’re reflecting on the fact that you are somewhat dressed up. sure, you curl your hair and wear cute dresses on the regular but never have you worn a cute dress, curled your hair, waited for someone to come over, and beat them to the door before they could announce their arrival. “sure. i guess we can do that. i don’t want you to think you have to, though. you came for quentin and he’s asleep so don’t force yourself.”

you’re surprised when hobie laughs, nose wrinkling with genuine enjoyment. he shakes his head and places his hand on your shoulder. it engulfs your skin like a warm blanket and gives you a squeeze. “never change, okay? you’re so sweet. get your keys and let’s go.”

there’s a strawberry field just across the park guarded by a wire fence. some kids gather around the edges and pluck the berries off the overgrown branches that poke just close enough for them to reach with their little fingers.

the breeze carries the sounds of high-pitched laughter and squeals from the children running about. with school just recently letting out, the park is well occupied. it’s a surprise to no one to see a crowd of elementary schoolers running around the slides and pushing each other on the swing.

you sit at a bench. the metal is warmed from the sunlight beaming down. you have your phone in your hand, pumping out back to back texts to maise filled with terrible grammar and even worse spelling. to say you're panicked would be an understatement. you’re more than panicked. you feel so wrong about being here, more or less alone with your brother’s best friend. the same best friend that you’ve had the biggest crush on for years, only for him to disappear and for you to assume everything you’ve ever felt and thought would be gone with him. the same best friend who’s return brought back the juvenile feelings from your youth.

he’s gone to the ice cream truck parked in the parking lot to buy you both popsicles and therefore, giving you about five minutes to figure out your game plan. maise is no help. most her texts consist of “i told you so” and laughing at your inevitable demise. you feel just about ready to melt into the pavement and through your phone across the park, in no particular order. your nails just might break your screen with the amount of force between each push.

“are you mad at someone?”

you're quick to turn your phone off in the amount of time it takes for you to look up at hobie, standing in front of you with two popsicles, one in each hand. “huh? oh, no. it’s just maise. she’s being so stupid.” the frustration has yet to dissipate and your face shows it, huffing a breath of annoyance. “you’d think you ask someone for advice and they’d actually give it to you instead of making fun of you.”

“mm,” hobie has a seat next to you. he hands you the powerpuff girls popsicle, very obviously supposed to be styled after bubbles. its still in it’s wrapper and it’s a good thing at that. already the popsicle began to get a little soft in the summer heat. “advice about what?” he, himself, holds one of those spongebob ones that never come out right. for a moment, you consider that perhaps he’s reminiscing about the days where you, quentin, and hobie would run out at the sound of the ice cream truck and get the silly cartoon popsicles, only to compare who’s looks the worst.

“oh, just about my classes. i don’t know if i want to take one of my electives or not.” you spit out the lie faster than you can really process it. you peel the wrapper off the popsicle and stick it in your mouth to give you an excuse not to speak.

“i definitely can’t help you with that. i didn’t go to college so i really wouldn’t know.” for a brief moment, hobie finds humor in the distorted face of his spongebob popsicle before taking a small bite of the cold corner. “what’s it like? do you like it?”

the question makes you sigh. there really is no response you can give him that would push the conversation forward, especially when you have been asked the very same thing so many times by almost every adult in your life. “um, it’s okay. it’s hard, y’know, to find the motivation to make myself go to class and there’s always some sort of drama going on between someone and someone else.” you reminisce on the boy and friend drama you’ve both witnessed and experienced from a bittersweet perspective.

hobie nods, watching a group of giggling ten year olds run by. they seem to be participating in a game of tag, their cheeks rosy and eyes glistening with what can only be found in childhood. “can’t believe you’re in college now. that used to be us, playing at the park and then going to your house to have dinner.”

you don’t mention that hobie didn’t come to your graduation. instead, you kick a rock by your foot and change the topic of the conversation. “so, if you don't go to college, what do you do?”

“i’m a server at a restaurant. it makes pretty good money, actually. i can afford a one bedroom apartment in the city so i don’t mind. i’m in a band now too and sometimes i make stuff to sell.” he pulls out his phone for a split second to check the notification that vibrated in his phone before sliding it back into his pocket.

you’re grateful that he doesn’t outright tell you what he makes so you’re able to participate in the conversation and ask him, “what kind of stuff?”

“oh, like paintings, crochet stuff, stuff like that. arts and crafts that people like to buy. it does pretty well since that kind of thing is trending.” 

the conversation falls a bit flat after that. you fault yourself, too self conscious to relax around him. a part of you is overjoyed to have him back and another part of you feels like a neglected afterthought. all this time, hobie was doing just fine. he was living his life and choosing who to keep contact with. it hurts your heart that he didn’t consider you at all but is so comfortable with returning and acting like nothing has changed. perhaps he didn’t take you as seriously as you would like.

“oh, that’s cool.” you try not to sound too sour when you say it. “it’s great that you made a life you enjoy.” you watch a blue drop of melted popsicle roll down and drip onto the white plastic gripped between your fingers. gravity continues to pull the droplet down towards the stick and it stains the wood blue.

hobie glances at you, eyebrows knitted together. he takes in your expression and the subtext behind it. it’s obvious what he’s doing behind his scrutinizing gaze. “yeah? you can be honest. you know that, right?”

“mhm,” you nod with a hum. you’re not interested in engaging any further with the topic. instead, you eye a ladybug crawling on the bench armrest. it’s not like you planned on discussing your deep emotional feelings with him anyway, especially not here. “i’m happy for you, really.”

you can still feel hobie’s eyes boring into the side of your face but the feeling does nothing to capture your attention and turn your head back towards him. instead, you nearly praise whatever higher power caused your conversation to be interrupted by an onlooker.

“oh my gosh, hobie brown!”

you both turn your head to the perpetrator. hobie is just as surprised as you are to see magnolia, from high school, walking up to you both. you don’t know her very well considering she was in the same graduating class as your brother but you’re aware of her.

truthfully, you’ve never liked her very much during your younger years. you despised the way she’d cling onto hobie and quentin, often forcing her way into their circle. at least, you’d consider it forcing. quentin always told you not to worry about it.

here she is again, forcing herself into your hangout with your supposed friend who’s there with you. she’s grinning as she walks up to you both, hands planted on her waist. you so badly want to judge her for her outfit choice but you know you can’t. it’s not like you don’t know what type of person magnolia is and how much she pushes the social standards most people operate with. still, something vile twists inside you and even more so when you catch hobie’s eyes wandering across her body.

that is also no surprise because you know their history. of course hobie wouldn’t be able to deny himself from staring at magnolia like this when she’s wearing daisy dukes, a tiny shirt, and so ready to reopen the book of their past.

“look at you. can’t believe you didn’t come by the moment you got back,” she teasingly smacks his arm with a tinkling laugh. her eyes briefly drift to your direction and she smiles out of politeness. “oh hey, sugar. tell your brother i said hi, would you?”

you nod and pull your lips tight. suddenly, what interest you did have died a painful death and you turn back to the ladybug as your only comfort. unfortunately, that too is gone and you’re left with nothing but the ability to listen in on a conversation you want nothing to do with.

“aw, maggie. don’t worry, i’m still planning on it. you’ll get a very special and personal visit, just for you.”

“promise?”

you nearly choke, face scrunching up in disgust. you’re not five and can read between the very obvious lines. you feel the need to remind them that you are quite literally right there and swallow the green monster making a nice home in your heart. “i don’t mean to interrupt but i have to get home and get ready for dinner. do you want me to give you a ride, hobie, or are you good?”

you try to hide your disappointment before hobie can say anything. you can tell by his hesitation and expression what decision he’s going to make, glancing between both you and magnolia. he’s going to spend some quality time with her. “i think i’m good but you should get back. drive safe, okay? text me when you get home.”

“okay. then, i’ll see you later.” you rise to your feet and dig your hand into your purse, searching for the keys to your car. “bye magnolia. it was nice seeing you again.” her words of the returned gesture fall on deaf ears as you turn and head back to the parking lot. there’s a frown etched on your face and you dump the mostly-eaten popsicle into the trash.

it never crossed your mind that you’re not the only one who is looking forward to hobie back around. you’ve been so used to viewing yourself as the center of the universe that not once did you think about literally anyone else who has been involved in hobie’s past.

you pull the door open of your car and get inside, staring out of the windshield. you feel so teenage girl romcom movie but you don’t know what to do about it. one half of you wants to sob and rot in your bed and claim your heart is broken and the other part of you just wants to go home, eat dinner, and call maise.

you sit there like that for a few minutes before eventually turning on your car and starting the drive home. sza blares through the radio and is your only solace on your lonely drive home.

“no! and then she just shows up and takes him?” maise pulls out two small boxes of sour patch kids out of the plastic grocery bags on the counter. her eyes are wide and she’s hanging on to every part of your story.

it’s been about a week and a half since that time in the park with hobie and you’re still reveling in the emotions of it. you have yet to make a decision on how to conduct yourself around him and as a result, have begun to avoid him. you find it’s better not to be near him at all than to stand there and know that he wanted you to leave him so he could probably have mind blowing sex with his small-town fling.

“she just walks right over and he basically starts drooling.” you’re also unloading various snacks and a liter of soda from the grocery bags. tonight, you both plan to watch movies and eat junk food until your tummies are threatening to burst and you’re both ready to pass out from exhaustion. “i’m so stupid. i should have known. we weren’t even in the same crowd back then. why did i think anything would be different now?”

maise pities you just a bit. she sympathetically presses her lips into a pouty frown and reaches over the counter to grab your hand. “poor baby. in your defense, you have more of a southern belle, sweetest girl in town thing going for you and hobie is the exact opposite. it makes sense why he’d go for magnolia. you two have nothing in common and you’re virtually inexperienced.”

“i have experience!” you begin to pile the various snacks into the bin you brought down from your room just for the special occasion. “i have plenty of experience.”

“you had one situationship for half of your first year of college that treated you like shit. that’s not experience, babe. that’s trauma.”

you whip your head to give maise a pointed glare at bringing up what you’re trying so hard to forget. that chapter of your life is over and it died the moment the academic year ended. “okay but the point is, i am not a baby and i bet i could fuck just as good as she can. he just sees me as a little girl and i can never change that.”

“so what are you going to do?” your friend leans against the counter on the opposing side of you. she crosses her arms over her chest after adjusting her black leggings as they have risen above her ankles.

“nothing,” you say with a sigh. you grab the basket and hoist it onto your hips. “like i said, he sees me as a child. i’m just going to do what i’ve been doing, nothing. ignore him. just keep my distance until he goes home and forget all about him.”

what you don’t tell maise is that magnolia isn’t the only one. sometimes, the habits from your childhood return and you sit yourself at quentin’s door with your ear pressed up against the wood. you listen to his conversations with hobie, sometimes on the phone and sometimes in person, about his recent endeavors with the locals in town. so far, there has been at least one other girl since magnolia. whether he bounces between spending his nights with the two, you’re unsure and you don’t think you even want to know.

maise begins to open her mouth to say something but snaps it shut at the sound of the front door opening. there’s an irregular pattern that comes from two people coming through the door and for a moment, your face flashes with panic.

“i’m beginning to hate going out with you. every single time there’s always some girl ready to — oh hey.” quentin stops in the middle of his sentence as soon as he spots you standing in the kitchen. he jumps a bit, not having expected to see both you girls watching him walk into the house. “what are you doing here, maise?”

“we’re having a movie night.”she rises to standing and positions herself at your side.

“the sun is still out.” quentin lifts a finger to point to the window with the blinds open. sunlight streams through the trees of your backyard and reaches the living room.

“yeah. we just came back from the store and now we’re pregaming by talking shit.” she throws an arm around your shoulder, taking notice of your silence and lack of movement. it’s almost like you’re not breathing and it’s definitely because hobie is standing right there in all his glory, smiling right at you. maise using her grip on you to subtly nudge some sort of humanity back in you.

“anyway,” you clear your throat and take a sudden interest in reorganizing the bin of snacks, “we’re going to get going. we have a lot of girl stuff to talk about so see you later.” you take maise’s hand and take the lead in walking past the two and up the stairs of your house. you don’t miss the quizzical looks from both men at your hastiness to get out of being around them.

frankly, this isn’t the first time you’ve made a bolt to get out of being in the same room as them, but only when hobie is around. however, no one makes a move to question it and lets you do as you please. to quentin, it’s a sign you’re no longer hung up over his best friend and is far better than getting your hopes up for nothing. to hobie, you’re abhorrently avoiding him for some reason and he can’t stand it at all.

it makes him antsy, as if there’s some big impending doom coming that he won’t be able to stop. it makes him uncomfortable to see you get along so well with others and flee the moment he steps into the room and oddly enough, it’s only ever started happening since that one day. was it something he said or did? surely it can’t be because he didn’t accompany you back home. after all, you did text him to let him know you made it safely like he requested so he thought everything was fine. what is going on with you?

it’s somewhere between the hours of two and three am when you make the decision to trek downstairs for a cold glass of water. maise had fallen asleep on the left side of your bed a half hour ago and you had beaten her. you won by staying out longer than she did and decide to reward yourself with a neutral drink to wash the syrupy taste out your mouth.

the house feels awfully cold during such hours of the night and you regret leaving the warmth of your room in your oversized shirt and little pink shorts. both of your parents came home hours ago, wished you a fun night and retired to their beds in preparation for work the next day. you’re assuming no one else is awake with the only other options being quentin and hobie, if hobie is even here.

you sniff and rub your hands along your arms as you round the corner and enter the catch. in the darkness of night and with your squinting eyes, you use what spatial awareness you have to guide your way to the glasses in the cabinet.

you just manage to wrap your fingers around it before there’s some sort of shuffling behind you. you’re unnerved, almost dropping the glass in the time it takes you to look over your shoulder at the perpetrator. “hello?” you try to make out the form in the dark and find purchase in the knife drawer in front of you.

“it’s just me.” the voice is gruff and familiar and washes over you like a relaxing wave of warm water. “sorry, i wasn’t trying to scare you.”

“hobie?” you lean towards him to make out his figure in the shadows. the moonlight does little to aid in visibility. there is only a pale light struggling to come through the window. you have to reach over and turn on the stove light just to see him since your eyes have yet to adjust. “i thought you went home?”

“i did. i went to see my parents and it went just about as well as i thought.” hobie takes a seat at the bar stools behind the aisle. he seems strained, running his hand over his face with a sigh. “so i came back because i like it here more.”

“why didn’t you just go to your own house?” you feel a little underdressed in your attire all of the sudden. sure, you are preparing to go to sleep and in the comfort of your own house but you’d hate to give off the impression that you’re walking around without pants on.

“because i like it here more. pretty sure i said that,” now he’s rubbing his eyes, sitting up to lean against the back of the chair. “if you’re getting a glass of water, can you get me one too?” hobie’s lips turn up into a small, sad smile. his eyes look tired, worn out from whatever went down at his parents’ house.

you forgot all about the glass in your hand, looking down at it as if it’s appeared from the ether. “oh, you can just have mine. i’m probably going to go back to bed.” you’re still dead set on ignoring hobie. for one,  it makes it so much easier to get used to the feeling of disappointment that he doesn’t see you when you literally don’t have to see him. not to mention, it’s difficult enough to look him in his eyes but to be alone with him and look him in the eyes? you have to go.

you set the glass down on the island and slide it over to him, prepared to take a quick and silent walk back to the safety of your room and your best friend asleep on your bed. “goodnight, hobie.”

you don’t make it very far before hobie is speaking to you, again. his gaze is following your attempt at escaping him and it’s annoying him that this is probably the thousandth time you’ve evaded him. “what is up with you? i’m clearly going through something and would benefit from talking about it with someone. i literally just left your house and showed up again and you’re not even going to ask me how i got in?”

you try to not huff when you turn to face him with an eyebrow quirked. “what are you talking about?” you clench your hands into small fists, only to flex them and release what tension you carry.

“what am i talking about? you speak like, five words to me now. i don’t know what i did to make this happen and i’m sorry but you’re literally avoiding me. you came down here for what, a glass of water? you gave me yours before you even got one and now you’re going back upstairs so you don’t have to talk to me. what did i do?”

you shake your head at his words. he’s not wrong. you have been avoiding him and looking for any way out not to speak or be around him more than you need to. still, hobie doesn’t have to bring it up. he shouldn't have brought it up. what are you going to do now? “i still don’t know what you’re talking about. i haven’t done anything to avoid you. i just don’t want water anymore and i want to go back to sleep.”

hobie presses his lips together. he’s doing his best not to stare at you with hardened eyes so he turns away, looking at the countertop instead. his frustration is palpable but he’s sensible enough to restrain himself, to keep himself from turning it into an argument. “okay, go to sleep then. goodnight.” he taps his nails against the side of the glass, listening to the little plinks ro distract himself from the unrest in his soul.

you stand there, staring at the back of hobie’s head even though he’s dismissed you. you’re free to go with no repercussions but the guilt from doing so while knowing he wanted to talk about whatever is plaguing him is too much to handle. “oh my god, fine. what is it? what happened at your parents'?”

your feet drag all the way towards the island and you sit on the bench beside him. you rest your hands in your lap and stare at the numbers reading back the time on the stove. they’re green and a great source of something to look at that isn’t hobie.

“no, it’s okay. you don’t want to hear about my problems because it’s such an inconvenience to you. i’m just going to sit here and mope, maybe cry, and go home.”

“don’t piss me off.” you tsk, picking a strand of string off your shirt. your eyes cut to him in a sideways glare, urging him to talk and quickly before you change your mind. “what’s wrong? what happened?”

hobie pokes his cheek with his tongue. he stares at the ceiling before slowly closing his eyes. “i dunno, man. it was so bad. they think i’m a disappointment or somethin’. it’s written all over their faces.”

“that’s not true. they probably were just overwhelmed that you came home.” you do your best to reassure him but even you know that’s probably a lie. hobie’s parents disapprove of him, everyone knows it. they’re embarrassed their only son turned out to be some sort of punk neanderthal and actively denounce him in public.

“don’t kid yourself, dove. my parents hate me and you know it. we all know it. i went over and they practically screamed it in my face. we had dinner for five seconds and got into a screamin’ match about how i let everyone down by runnin’ wild in the streets.” he’s squinting now. “when have i ever run wild in the streets?”

you can only shrug, unable to give him a response. you don’t know what to say to him. there is no denying what he experienced. all you can do is listen and shrug. “i’m sorry about that. you’re not a disappointment. they just can’t understand why they like it here so much and why you don’t. that can’t be easy to understand.”

“yeah well, i’ll get over it. i’ll just stay away from them and they can stay away from me and we can all pretend we aren’t related.” hobie doesn’t sound bitter, he sounds defeated. he sounds like he’s been down this road many times before and expected an outcome no different than before. however, it’s only natural for a child to wish for their parents to understand them. “anyway . . .,” his head lolls to the side until he’s looking at you, staring at you, “why are you avoiding’ me?”

your lips curl into themselves and you feel the need to excuse yourself. “i’m not avoiding you. if you’re done with your rant, i’m going to go to sleep now.” you go to rise to your feet but your attempt is short-lived when hobie catches you with his hands on your shoulders.

“yes, you are. look. you’re trying to do it right now. you’re tryin’ to leave because i’m confrontin’ you about it. i’m not going to stop pressin’ you about it until you tell me.”

one look in his eyes and you can tell he’s serious. hobie has caught you alone in the dead of night. he’s got you face-to-face and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it but lie or tell the truth, neither of which would work here.

“i’m not avoiding you, hobie. i just –,” you avert your gaze until you’re looking at literally anything else, “– i just think it’s best if we keep a distance and remain cordial. we don’t have to be friends because you're friends with quentin. you don’t have to feel like you have to be friends with me.”

“what?” the man lets you go. his arms drop back into his lap and he’s looking at you as if you’ve just proclaimed your undying love for present day denzel washington. “where is this coming from? you’ve always been a friend of mine. we grew up together. just because i’m closer to quentin doesn’t mean we aren’t close at all.”

you rack your brain to find a way around the real reason by cherry picking the words until they form a sentence that makes sense. “well, yes but i’m not like you. i don’t think there’s anything you – i just – we aren’t the same. we’re in very different crowds and i don’t want you to force yourself to get along with me.”

“okay, we’re in different crowds. what’s that supposed to mean? i’m friends with you because you are different from me. if i didn’t want to be around you or anyone who isn’t the exact same as me, i wouldn’t have come home. you’ve never been insecure about our friendship before so what’s going on?”

you’ve just about reached the end of the line. you’re frazzled and unable to keep pumping out excuses. he’s just going to disprove every single one and deny you a reason to run away. he doesn’t get it and he won’t get it. there’s only one option left to do. every ounce of your soul is screaming at you not to, already burning from the humiliation but as far as you’re concerned, you have no other option. “you don’t get it. jeez, hobie, you’re so stupid. obviously, i’m avoiding you because i have feelings for you and you don’t feel the same. i don’t want to be around you when i know you’re just going to go out and fuck every girl in town.”

your little spiel is followed by silence. while what weight was lifted off your chest, your hands are beginning to sweat from the anxiousness. still, you’ve already said it and you can’t back down so you sit firm in your decision. your eyes still begin to water from the overwhelming emotion that comes with speaking your mind like that and being met with absolutely nothing.

finally, hobie tilts his head. “fuck every girl in town? what are you talking about? is that what people are saying about me?”

you burst into tears, partly because you took that as rejection and partly because you think he doesn’t care. he just brushed off everything you said to talk about his sexual endeavors. “you’re so mean. you’re so mean and you hate me and you want me to die,” you blubber through a watery gargle. your hands are unable to keep up with the tears that stream down your face. by the time you brush one away, there’s another one that takes its place.

“oh my god.” hobie’s eyes widened in shock at your immediate reaction. it happened faster than he can blink and he’s terrified that someone is going to wake up, find you crying, and blame it all on him. “why are you crying?” he pulls you into an embrace, tucking your head beneath his chin and into his chest. despite what many would think, his skin is awfully warm to the touch and it would have been comforting if he didn’t stomp on your heart.

“because i just spilled my deepest, darkest secret to you and you don’t care. you’re bragging about how many times you got laid instead of having human emotions.” you only sob louder as he runs his fingers along your spine in what’s supposed to be a soothing manner.

“i’m not bragging about anything. i haven’t even fucked anyone since i’ve been here. where are you getting your information from?” hobie can’t decide whether or not he’s concerned or humored. he lifts your head, but only briefly, to wipe the tears on your cheeks. the moment he sees your lip tremble, he allows you to go back into the comfort of hiding against him.

“i don’t have to get my information from someone. i just know. you literally left me for magnolia and i know that you’ve been seeing some other girl. plus, quen was saying something about every girl and you when you walked in.” your words are muffled in his shirt. you feel a little guilty because of how wet it is but then you think about how hobie wronged you and wish you soaked it with your sobs.

“okay, first of all, i did not fuck magnolia. i’d have to bash my head with a brick to consider doing that. second of all, i’m not seeing anyone. i’m trying to get a temporary job while i’m still here and i have to suck up to the manager because she doesn’t like me. and why is it my fault that people like me? i can’t stop them from liking me and i can’t stop someone else from talking about it. you’ve misunderstood every single thing and now you’re yelling at me.”

you sniffle and tilt your head up. there is suspicion and doubt written all over your face. “so if you don’t like magnolia like that, then why were you looking at her like that? like you were thinking about taking her clothes off.”

hobie reels his head back, giving you a similar mystified expression. “girl, what are you talking about? if i was looking at her any sort of way it was probably because she was standing in front of the actual sun and I couldn't see. i wear contacts and i forgot to put them in. you know i wear contacts so now i’m confused.”

for a moment, you don’t say anything. you sit there and replay his explanations over and over again, searching for any holes in his story. you slowly run your tongue over your lip as the embarrassment slowly sets in. he’s right, he does wear contacts. he got them senior year of high school and you suppose you just forgot. you forgot and cried and went on him for no reason.

hobie watches you come to the realization. he can tell it’s dawning on you when your face relaxes and forms into one of mortification. this is where he decides it’s humorous to him. it’s even more hilarious when he adds the cherry on top. “and your deepest, darkest secret? i already knew. it’s not really a secret if everyone knows.”

that brings you an entire new wave of waterworks but instead, they build and build in your waterline until they eventually spill over in an occasional spill. “so you knew this whole time and let me embarrass myself? and you’re rejecting me?”

hobie reaches off and tears a paper towel square off the roll. he shakes his head, bending the square into a smaller one. he uses it to dab your cheek with a tut of his tongue. “you have to stop crying. i can’t talk to you when you’re refusing to listen to me. at least cry silently or ask questions that i can actually answer.”

“no,” you take the square from his fingers. really, you snatch it and use it to clean your dribbling nose. “i’m so mad at you. i don’t want to talk anymore.” you take this chance to get off the bar stool and move towards the trash can. you’re still sniffling and occasionally gasping for air while you clean yourself up. “you knew this entire time and didn’t say anything? i’d rather you turn me down from the beginning than give me this false sense of security. you led me on.”

“no. no, i didn’t.” hobie watches you rinse your face with water. hearing his denial just makes you angrier.

“yes you did. you knew and you said nothing.”

“no i did not. you didn’t even ask me –”

“i don’t have to ask you because i already know. you’re the worst person alive and you only care about yourself –”

“ ☆ , listen. you’ve been assuming things for weeks and look where that got you. just, stop talking and let me speak, please.” his firm tone knocks any thought out of your brain and gets you to tighten up, real quick.

you look over your shoulder, not yet ready to look at him but finally ready to accept that you just might be wrong. you lift the neckline of your shirt over your face and use it as a method to dry it.

“in order for me to have led you on, you’d have to actually confess your feelings to me. at what point do you think i should have just walked up to you and say ‘hey, i know you have feelings for me that you aren’t ready to talk about yet but i just wanted to let you know that i’m not interested’? why do you assume that i don’t feel anything towards you, anyway? maybe i do but i don’t say anything because i know it’s not going to work. let’s think about it, i rarely ever come into town. you love town. at what point would i ever come along and see you?”

“you would get your ass on your bike and drive here like you did this time,” you mumble under your breath. you stand by the sink for a moment to gather your thoughts. you’re gaining clarity through the fog but now you’re drained. you’re tired and you don’t have the energy to feel displeased over whatever he has to say. it doesn’t matter what he has to say because in the end, it’s all going to be a no. “but whatever you say. we don’t work, okay. you’re leaving soon, okay. if that’s all, i’d like to go to bed now.”

“are you mad at me?” he asks from behind you, softly. he almost purrs it and it tugs at your will. you want so badly to let him in but he doesn’t want that and so you must persevere.

you shake your head with a breath. “no. i’m not mad at you. you’re entitled to your own opinion.” you put on the blankest expression you can manage and turn to face him. you cross your arms over your chest and manage to maintain what little composure you have.

he quips a brow at you, obviously not believing your claim and even more so when you don’t say anything to confirm it. “come here for a second.”

you shift your weight until your weight is all on your right side and your hip is popped. “hobie . . .”

“just for a second,” he outstretched his hand as an offer for you.

reluctantly, you take it and give no resistance when hobie pulls you into his personal space. his hands find your cheeks and squish them together until your lips are forced into a pout. “be honest with me, baby. are you mad at me?”

he doesn’t act surprised when you pause before nodding in response. “are you still going to be mad at me if i kiss you?”

hobie watches the thought go through your mind. you consider it and the consequences that come with it. it’s going to be a meaningless kiss because hobie has drawn the line. he can’t be attached to anything from this town and you know that. still, it’s an incredible opportunity to just pass up because of morality.

you shake your head.

hobie’s lips are soft against yours. there’s a subtly sweet taste but it’s possible you’re high off  oxytocin. again, you clench your hands into fists but this time it’s to restrain yourself from holding onto him and pulling him tighter. you have to keep reminding yourself that it’s a meaningless kiss.

it’s even harder to maintain that thought when hobie’s mouth fits so perfectly against yours. he doesn’t move his hands from your cheeks but the kiss grows heated, regardless. his tongue, wet and warm, runs over the expanse of your bottom lip before worming its way into your mouth.

you mewl when it finds yours and sucks. you have to tuck your hands behind your back to hold onto your composure. your feet betray you, though, by bringing you even closer into him and in turn, into his lips.

“are you done cryin’?” he kisses the corner of your mouth and jumps to the skin along your jawline. like before, he kisses and sucks the trail of skin from there to your neck. “because it wouldn’t be right if i just left you here.”

you squirm in your spot and do your best to conceal the whines that threaten to bubble up out of your throat. “hobie, you said – you –” you finally rested your hands on the tops of his thighs. the voice in the back of your head telling you to give in is getting more and more convincing with each passing second.

“what did i say?” he pauses his ministrations to catch his breath and give you a second to find yours. he isn’t sure how the conversation took this turn but he isn’t complaining. if anything, he’s hoping it’ll never end.

you stare at him in the yellow light from the stove. there’s still a chill in the air but you’re buzzed with need. suddenly, you’re hot. it’s sweltering even without the heat being on. you need to find a solution to your lust and quick. you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him back into you, deciding the solution right there in the moment.

your lips crash against each other with a burning passion. hobie stands up out of the bar stool, his hands circling around your waist. he takes steps forward and forces you back against the counter across from you. you don’t mind, entangling your hands within his scalp. you’re willing to let him do whatever he wants to you and it shows.

hobie turns you around and presses his hardening cock against the plumpness of your ass. you gasp at the feeling of him rutting against you with his breath fanning over your shoulder, warm and sticky. there’s something that takes over, a horny little monster that throws all your inhibitions out the window. you’re equally as turned on, rolling your hips back on his in tandem with him.

“fuck, okay. don’t get too loud.” he whispers under the sound of the fabrics moving together. out of he corner of your eye, you barely get a glimpse of him shoving his fingers in his mouth before sliding underneath your clothing. he pulls your shirt up in a balled up fist and watches his hand disappear beneath the waistband of your shorts and elastic of your panties.

they waste no time finding your clit, sticky and growing swollen from your insatiable desire. “already so fuckin’ wet.” he rubs the nub in little circles, growing accustomed to your body and what you like most. occasionally, his fingers slip and unintentionally fall too close to your entrance.

your mouth falls open in a tiny “o”. you throw your head back onto his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut and grinding against both his dick and his fingers. you’re sandwiched between pleasure and doing your best to keep your moans limited to a whisper. you grip the edge of the counter and you’re actually grateful for it. it’s the solace that’s keeping you grounded to reality because without it, you’re sure you would have soared to the sky. “d – don’t tease,” you pant. you reach behind you searching for hobie’s dick and you find it easily. it’s hard to miss with the hard feeling of it against your skin and you swear you feel it grow harder when you wrap your fingers around it, still clothed over his sweats.

“sorry, dove. whatever you want,” hobie flattens his palm against your pussy. his middle finger prod at your sticky entrance to test your reaction but it slips right in, much to your pleasure. he has to take it slow with your sensitivity but hobie savors every moment. he’s not in a rush, especially when your fingers squeeze and rub at his clothed cock. he’s ready to stick it in now if he truly wanted but hobie wants this moment to last. he wants to burn the memory into his head and stain his life with whatever effects you have on him.

“mmm,” you hum, spreading your legs farther to accommodate his size. just one of his fingers could make you feel so full that you’re nearly satisfied like this. you have to close your lips and run your tongue along the inside of your cheeks to wet them again. “that feels so good.”

“yeah?” hobie asks. he’s so focused on you, he doesn’t notice how you’ve also managed to get your hand under the waistband of his boxers. he only realized what’s happening when your hand brushes against the stubble of his pubes and wraps around his shaft. “oh baby,” he whines in your ear. you can feel his dick twitch and jump at the tightness of your palm. he nearly falls over your frame when your thumb begins to circle around his tip.

hobie’s fingers stutter inside you. they push farther, deeper, making contact with your g-spot accidentally. he hasn’t gotten a chance to stick another finger in before you’re whimpering and nearly finger fucking yourself with his hand. “oh my gosh, right there. right there, right there!”

if hobie could have laughed at you, he would have. however, he has better things to worry about. like how your voice is beginning to rise in volume and he just cannot have that happen. “shhh,” is all he can manage throughout his full-body shudders. he uses his other hand to drop your shirt and instead stick his fingers in your mouth. they serve the purpose he intended, muffling your noises. he didn’t anticipate for you to suckle on them as if it’s the last thing you’d ever have in your mouth.

that, paired with the handjob and your gushing pussy around his fingers, he could have came right then and there. he could have exploded in his pants and made you cum and end it there but he didn’t. instead, he forces himself to pay attention to you. he puts his pleasure on the back burner and pushes his finger deeper, even going as far as to stretch you farther by adding a second one.

with his fingers deep in your throat and drool pouring out the corner of your mouth, your legs begin to shake. your chest rises and falls with each heaved breath. if you weren’t forced into somewhat silence, you’re sure you would have been calling out hobie’s name, drunk of him and him alone.

he has no idea what words you’re gurgling but unless you’re chanting about how you’re on the verge of cumming, he doesn’t care. luckily for him, it’s almost certain that you were and it’s evident with how your body falls slack in his arms and your cunt spasms around his fingers. the sight is an ultimate turn on.

hobie pulls his fingers out of your mouth and wipes the saliva over your cheek. he takes the opportunity to yank your bottoms down until they’re confined to your ankles. you step out of them and turn around, reconnecting your lips with his.

once again, you’re kissing hobie as an act of hunger, pushing your lips so hard together that they nearly swell. you cup the back of his head to draw him in. you’re delighted to feel his hands on the globes on your cheeks and set you onto the counter. it’s cold on your skin and so you flinch but it becomes a faint thought when hobie’s hands are anchored on the backs of your thighs. he pushes them back until your feet are flat on the counter and your glistening pussy is all on display, still creamy from your recent orgasm.

“just gotta get a taste,” he mumbles, mostly to himself as he eyes the shining cunt open and throbbing for him. he wastes no time wrapping his lips around your puffy clit, slurping at your slick. he enjoys the sapidity that’s unique to you, tangy and a bit sweet, like a refreshing dessert he could eat for the rest of his life.

he can feel the juices drip down his chin and coat the lower half of his face but that doesn’t stop him from eating your pussy like a starved man. you have to bring a hand up to your mouth to muffle the moans, watching the hobie lick between your folds and lap at your clit. your eyes are ready to roll back when hobie’s tongue pokes at your entrance. you want so badly to scream, to pull hobie’s head even closer to your aching pussy but you can’t. you can’t risk moving your hand off your mouth, knowing that the moment you do, you’ll wake up the whole house.

you compromise by using your other hand to support your weight and shift toward, putting yourself a little more onto your toes. in this new position, you’re able to move your cunt along his face. you push farther, going as far as to brush your clit along hobie’s nose.

his response is to tug your body to the edge of the counter and wrap your legs over his shoulders. your lower body is solely held up by him, his shoulder, and his hands. he swallows every ounce of your slick and sears your clit with a kiss.

it doesn’t take long before you’re finding yourself closer to the edge of a second orgasm. you ball your shirt up and shove the jumbled mess into your own mouth. your brain is foggy. you can’t think of a single thought that isn’t full of hobie, the pleasure, and the need to cum, immediately. 

“mmmf,” you wrap your legs around his neck. dig your fingers into his hair, and tug just in time for another gush of cum to come flowing out of your pussy. every muscle in your body has relaxed and become putty by now. you’re at hobie’s disposal and you love that.

“you’re so perfect, i’m devastated.” he kisses your inner thigh, continuing to trail those kisses up your stomach, between your tits, and onto your lips. he doesn’t wipe the cum off his face as he does it. instead, he makes you taste it, wrapping his tongue around yours and wetting your cheeks with the stickiness as your arousal as he does it.

“no you’re not. you won’t stay for me.” you whisper between kisses, running your hands along his bare chest under his shirt. you grab the hem and pull it up until hobie inevitably allows you to pull it off. it’s discarded and tossed onto the floor.

“i won’t stay for anyone. you know this.” he disconnects from the kiss, but only for a moment. during this time, he drops his pants to pull out his cock, raging from watching you cum not once, but twice. in the darkness, you can make out an outline of it, long and skinny with a mushroom tip and bulging veins. he’s been straining this whole time but hadn’t complained at all, loving every second of pleasing you. he could do it for hours if he had the time.

you resort to pouting as hobie sets your feet back onto the ground. with his hands on his hips, he turns you back around until your back is pressed against his chest, once again. “just say you hate me.”

“keep saying that and i’ll shove my dick in your mouth.” he says, aligning his tip with his sticky entrance. you don’t mention how his threat holds no weight if you’d enjoy it. instead, you play into it and huff, resting your hands flat on the counter.

you brace yourself when hobie begins to push deep into you. the stretch is painful at first, enough that you have to grit your teeth and will yourself to relax through the shallow thrusts to ease his way into you. it only takes a few seconds before the pain is blooming into satisfaction.

he fits so well inside you, filling you as if he was created solely for this purpose. you reach up, resting your hand on his cheek for a source of intimacy in the slow thrusts. you use the leverage of the counter to push your ass back to meet his thrusts.

you don’t know how much willpower you have to continue standing on your own when hobie is doing such a good job of fucking you dumb. even with the slow pace, you have to give in, leaning over the counter. to hobie, this is leverage for him to take control of the situation. he slots a large hand over your mouth and the other rests on the small of your back.

almost instantly, his thrusts increase tenfold. you’re certain if this was done on a bed, it would have been rocking with such an intensity against the wall. you grasp his hand covering your mouth with yours, almost screaming into his hand.

“shh, you’ll w – wake someone u – up.” he leans over you. hobie doesn’t compensate for the sound of skin slapping against each other by speaking louder. instead, he gets closer to you and because of that, angles his dick deeper into your cunt.

in this new state, you can hear every soft moan and whimper that leaves his mouth. he’s not rough about it, almost singing in your ear. his breath feels moist on your skin and adds to the fire burning in your core. “just t – take it, baby.”

you almost sob, rising onto your toes and writhe underneath him. it didn’t occur to you that you’d be overstimulated by the time you’ve reached this point. as much of your fault as it is, you like to blame most of it on hobie for pushing it this far. you wouldn’t be tempted to push him away, feeling as though he would be forcing another one out of you, if he didn’t.

you’re still, almost stuck in place. he’s too good at delivering. your body craves more and less of him at the same time. you’re certain you can feel him in your throat, ready to pop out the other side and through your mouth if this continues long enough. it’s driving you crazy, so crazy you squeeze your legs together.

it doesn’t last long because coincidentally, hobie hooks his hand under your leg and pushes it onto the counter. your cunt squelches as it swallows his size greedily. he’s obsessed with watching his length disappear inside you and the white sheen that surrounds the base. “shit, you’re gettin’ tight. gonna make me cum.”

you can only wail at his words and press your forehead against the granite. your legs have begun to quiver for the second time that night and you’re almost certain your insides are about to explode. you’re unsure what is building up inside you but it’s drawing from somewhere deep in the pits of your stomach and you’re getting nervous. there’s not much you can do about it, nor can you think about it too much because hobie’s fingers are rolling your clit between them.

the bud is all swollen and practically hot to the touch. you’re dripping down your own thighs at this point. there’s a musk that accompanies sex in the air, thick and sending you into a daze. your eyes flutter closed before they roll back. you let loose, weak streams of squirt falling into the floor beneath you.

“holy fuckin’ shit,” hobie pulls out of you so fast, you whine and crumple onto the floor. he, as the kind gentleman he is, don’t force your weak body to move positions again. instead, he steps to your side and turns your head with a hand under your chin. “open your mouth for me. atta’ girl.”

you watch him through half lidded eyes jerk his swollen cock in front of your face until he’s spurting cum all over it. your tongue dangles open and catches what remnants dribble downwards into your mouth.

hobie’s equally sensitive body stands there for a moment to catch his breath. he slowly lowers himself onto the ground until he’s able to run his thumb over your cum-covered face to collect some of it on the pad of his finger and swipe it over your tongue. “how do you feel? want water or something?”

you wordlessly shake your head and crawl into his arms, despite the fact that your face is ultimately covered in his nut. you don’t mention that what you really want to know is what happens now. “just want to shower and sleep.”

he looks at you, half asleep against him, and then around the kitchen and the few pieces of evidence left behind. for one, the scent has got to go. “i’ll get you into the bath and i’ll handle the cleanup, okay? you just rest your pretty little head.”

you’ve already beat him to it, humming in response and envisioning the comfort of your queen sized bed. if you considered things awkward before, just what until you see how you try to navigate it in the morning.

#ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝔀𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓪𝔀𝓪𝔂 #hobie x black!reader #hobie smut #hobie brown #x black fem reader #astv hobie #x black reader #x reader #hobie x reader #hobie x y/n

[vaguely-concerned]

Thoughts upon finishing Master and Apprentice! A good double read with Padawan; the ending of that leaving Obi-Wan slightly hopeful about his relationship to Qui-Gon makes for a very sad yet hilarious ‘Local Padawan loses last little bit of hope he didn’t even know he still had’ sort of vibe to the beginning of this one, which is set one (1) year later and Obi-Wan is So Done with Qui-Gon’s whole deal by this point (correctly btw). Also if you can’t tell already I will not be objective or free from bias in this because I love Obi-Wan so much and some of the stuff Qui-Gon pulled made me incandescent with rage on his behalf <3 let’s go

- 'oh obi-wan, you're so mature for your age, I keep forgetting you're only seventeen years old,' qui-gon says, word for word, repeatedly, in master and apprentice, apparently willfully deaf to the industrial-sized warning bells about their relationship dynamic that should probably be setting off in his head. qui-gon believes in vibing with the living force and being in the moment right up until the moment requires him to pay attention to the kid he's raising for more than oh, one and a half minutes of self-effacing inner monologue and then he's like 'well unfortunately there is simply no time for that right now there are prophecies to be pondered'. (the fact that the admission that obi-wan has essentially been left to raise himself emotionally and the resigned reframing of that as 'and maybe that is a good thing!' is part of the olive branch they extend to each other towards the end... will my sadness never end)

- most of all it's so heartbreaking to me that qui-gon seemingly never understands just how much obi-wan as a person is rooted deeply in shame. I don't think that's a feeling that's particularly prevalent in qui-gon's own inner world so he doesn't recognize how central it is in obi-wan's psychology and completely misunderstands and misaligns with him again and again and again and then gets annoyed with obi-wan for that, thus making the shame even deeper. doubly painful because he does see the way rael lives so much of his life out of shame now and feels sad about it, but can't see the way he's contributing to obi-wan doing so. this is what fucks me up so bad about the generational trauma in star wars -- no one here meant to be cruel. for all his faults I do think qui-gon does love obi-wan and doesn't mean to hurt him. but the original sin of the prequels as far as I'm concerned is qui-gon tenderly drying away obi-wan's tears as he's dying even while completely failing to see him, his eyes too fixed on anakin's future to actually be with obi-wan, who's there right now and needs him.

these are simply very different people trying and failing to understand each other, and the harm that can still happen in that… 'if you love me, you don't love me in a way I understand', all the way through the disaster line, even when the love is there, it is there, that’s what hurts the most, it just doesn’t reach where it’s needed, there’s a connection that doesn’t happen. (ironically I think ahsoka doesn't doubt that anakin loves her, it's just uh everything else that went down. so y'know family curse broken! new even more fucked up curse achieved now with more child murder. I mean there already was some child murder in this family but anakin upped the game exponentially) 

- a lil guy who's basically tarzan except the gorillas are replaced with protocol droids and then he becomes a jewel thief is one of the funniest star wars concepts I've ever heard and I hope pax and rahara get to pop up in more star wars media, they’re great fun. (also an idea I think would be super fun to make a character/campaign around in Edge of the Empire or something, everyone playing different droids and then one person being robo-parented lol) 

- was not prepared to have rael posit a theory of what essentially seems to be the jedi version of predestination in his despair, but I do love to see it haha. especially interesting since he, qui-gon and dooku must be among the people alive who've studied the prophecies in most depth, and they've all reached different conclusions -- dooku decides to join the war of light and dark on the side of dark for some reason, qui-gon (possibly the stubbornest fucker the jedi order ever produced) 'turns towards the light not to win some great cosmic game, but because it is the light', and rael in the middle falls into the depressed apathy of 'it doesn't matter what we do here, the outcome is already decided; for there to be true balance there has to be as much dark as light in the world so we're fucked'. but in the end he does take qui-gon's words to heart and turns towards the light rather than accepting dooku's offer, even if he might not believe it makes a difference in the long run. man I love rael. hobo-looking sonofabitch living in a castle for eight years will just suddenly fling out some deep jedi theology huh

- master rael 'I'm gonna make up for the big terrible mistake I made on accident by making an even bigger more premeditated mistake on purpose' averross (affectionate)

- the added layer to dooku’s fascination with prophecy after reading dooku: jedi lost — that his best friend in the world was a seer who couldn’t turn it off and it destroyed him……….. dooku you’re not getting him back if you just understand what he saw you know that right

- the more I read of master and apprentice the more I realize that the reason yoda and qui-gon don't get along is that they're two of the judgiest bitches the jedi order ever produced. They’re like two cats scowling judgmentally at each other from opposite sides of the room pretending to live and let live while going ‘you’re wrong tho’ internally. 

- I dunk on him constantly (not entirely without affection, however grudging), but Qui-Gon is genuinely a really interesting character. He’s so… he’s so. He’s infuriating but he’s infuriating in an equidistant sort of way. You feel me. He’s pissing everyone off equally and he just doesn’t care because again, he’s the stubbornest judgiest bitch around and thinks he’s right all the time. I would be free to just enjoy his ornery ‘no actually I’m right about this’ ass and the chaos he wreaks so much more if Obi-Wan didn’t have to live with the emotional consequences of it lol. 

- poor rael closing in on fifty with his puriteen middle-aged little brother clutching pearls about his getting laid once in a blue moon fhdskjahfas. again a really interesting insight into different ways of interpreting the jedi code, though, I love seeing the jedi not be an ideological monolith. to be fair to rael, having sex sometimes does seem to be the indulgence he has that causes the least conflict with his principles or loyalties so you know what honestly force speed you my friend why not. (and then there's qui-gon 'noooo sex is only okay if you're In Love (implied: like I was)!!!' jinn lmao. I wonder what he'd think of anakin and padme's relationship, would that pass the 'being sufficiently purely in love' test for him) I do like how consistently it’s shown that rael doesn’t mean to be cruel or unkind in anything he says, he always notices something landing too close to home and then pulls carefully back from it instead of pushing on. He seems to be the emotional intelligence powerhouse in this lineage (as long as he doesn���t have his feelings too tangled up in something, at least). 

Dooku: jedi lost also shows us that dooku absolutely knows rael is out there in the galaxy laying pipe and is, at worst, softly amused by it. So in this little family unit it’s only qui-gon losing his mind over it fjsdkafa I’m so used to having qui-gon be the wild card maverick compared to obi-wan ‘*in tears* but what are the RULES master’ kenobi, it’s so fucking funny that within the context that raised him he’s the stick in the mud 

I guess. the book also had a plot and it was not bad! some interesting insights about how the republic interacted with the big corporations and just how fucked everything already was by this point. I'm a pretty character-driven reader so that's what sticks with me for the most part

- obi-wan’s big teenage rebellion here being that sometimes. Occasionally. When he really loses his temper and gets hot under the collar. He’ll say something slightly passive aggressive out loud instead of keeping it contained inside his head. And qui-gon still can’t handle that gracefully AT ALL he snaps right back fdjskfhas. (I guess he also snitches on qui-gon to the council but well, you know, qui-gon was breaking republic law pretty brazenly at that point I think that moves beyond teenage angst and into ‘...master that’s a wholeass felony’ territory). Obi-Wan does go for a couple of low blows, but like. Nothing that’s not actually true, is the thing. And mostly he blames himself for not being good enough, because surely if he were qui gon wouldn’t treat him like this. Augh. hngh. Pain. suffering. 

- I am not one of the people who think everything would have automatically been just hunky-dory if only qui-gon lived and could have been anakin's master (in fact I would have given it a 50/50 chance of going exponentially worse way faster; being more similar as people is not always a guarantee that a relationship will go smoother and qui-gon is an incredibly difficult man to be close to for any length of time), but the way this book basically presents how the dynamic between dooku, rael and qui-gon could have gone on in the next generation too... it would have been incredibly unfair to obi-wan (as always I think that's just an universal constant lmao) but I think the odds of it turning out okay would have been better if you had him in the mix to run crisis control for both qui-gon and anakin, as he does for each of them individually as best he can anyway. at least he could have been free to be anakin's brother and friend purely in that scenario, without all the added mess of grief and having to take on a parental role there so young. he does basically fill that role in ahsoka's apprenticeship, after all.

- qui-gon finally hugging rael before he leaves the planet (and especially since when they were younger he wanted to, but held himself back from it)... that's still his big brother even with all the shit that's happened since ;_____; when someone teaches you how to swim (literally and symbolically) that shit stays with you I suppose

Relatedly: DOOKU getting hugged, and gladly. What the fuck. Are you all seeing this shit. I’m gonna cry or laugh I’m not sure which one why am I emotionally invested in the galaxy's most problematic grandpa now this sucks

#and that's the power of star wars baybey #star wars #master and apprentice #obi wan kenobi #qui gon jin #rael averross #count dooku #star wars meta

[99corentine]

Afterword: Will there be a sequel to GHD?

After almost four years, GOL HAH DOV is finally a finished project. 50 chapters, just shy of 375K words (about 4-5 full novels’ worth of writing) and I don’t want to know how many hours of furiously typing, here we are at the finish line. As we started getting near the end a few people asked whether I was going to write a sequel, but the answer was too complex to put in an author’s note, so I thought I’d discuss it in more detail here.

Unfortunately, the short version of this is probably not, but let me explain why.

So, there are many things that could go in a sequel. Off the top of my head, I’ve yet to write about: the events of the Dawnguard DLC. The truth about Chrysanthe’s past. How they contend with Hermaeus Mora, who is still gunning for them. How the civil war unfolds when the First Dragonborn looks at both the Empire and Stormcloaks and says ‘nah, I’ll make my own faction’. How the Thalmor react to this. Miraak’s rise to power when he’s not allowed to use his mind control powers, and Chrysanthe’s general struggle to keep Miraak on a morally good path.

All of this could definitely make for another longfic but what I don’t have is any sort of romantic development. The trouble with writing a soulmates fic is that once the couple have overcome their personal issues, there’s very little further tension. Chrysanthe and Miraak actually got together very early in the fic (about chapter 12 out of 50) and the rest has been about them learning each other, becoming more intertwined… but I’m not really sure how they can get more intertwined, after the events of GHD. There are many external points of tension (politics, Thalmor, daedra) but there’s nothing internal - only Miraak’s dubious morality, but we already know that he’ll change his course for Chrysanthe, so what else is there to add?

Essentially, I can’t see how to further develop the relationship, and to me the romantic tension is what makes a fic worth writing. Without it, I just know that even if I started a GHD sequel, I wouldn’t have the enthusiasm to see it through to the end. Now that may change, and I might think of something new… but for the time being, I’m going to put GHD down and focus on other things.

Those other things are: 1) The Tav/Astarion Baldur’s Gate 3 longfic I’ve started, Tooth for a Tooth, which has all my attention at the minute. It’s darker than GHD but the protagonist has the same steely-stoic paladin vibe, so if you liked Chrysanthe you might like him too 2) A while ago I posted a fic idea in which the Last Dragonborn (Chrysanthe, or a totally new character) ends up in the past with pre-Apocrypha Miraak. Again this is a longfic that I’m not sure I really have the spoons for, but I’d say I’m more likely to write this than a GHD sequel 3) Various other bits and pieces, unfinished oldfics, etc.

I know that might be disappointing for some to read, but I hope my reasons make sense at least! And I hope that you still enjoy GOL HAH DOV as its own piece of work, and come back to read anything else that I might write in the future. Thank you again for coming on this Skyrim adventure with me!

#gol hah dov

[broadwayfangirl222]

Addict VS Poison

Now this this isn't gonna be a "Which is better" comparison, they're both awesome to me. Plus that kinda comparison feels kinda...boring and could easily turn mean. I wanted to focus on how while they basically tackle the same topics/themes, with the same character, they end up having this different vibe to them. Let's start with the OG

(FYI I'm not gonna use any of the animation in addict as part of this character analysis since the other one doesn't have that yet and that changes quite a bit here)

Addict:

I'd say a decent chunk of this song can be summarized as "denial and distraction" Not actual denial though, but the kind of denial where you're aware but you just really, really don't want to, or you can't, actually deal the issue so you just distract yourself.

Despite having overdosed / And ending up comatose / I don't give a damn / I've let my emotions go / Fuck being a sober hoe / This is the mantra / This is my life you're playing with now / 'Til the end of the night / Surrounded by fire, the passion ignites

Angel here is basically going "fuck it, we party" He's decided to fully block out the lows, no matter how bad those lows are, and only embrace the highs. He wants squeeze every last ounce of fun and enjoyment he can out of his horrible situation. The most obvious moment of Angel completely addressing his feelings and isn't hiding behind this care free party persona is the reprise

I'm addicted to the sorrow / When the buzz ends by tomorrow / There's another rush of poison flowing into my veins / Giving me a dose of pleasure that resides by the pain / I'm addicted, I'm dependent / Looking awesome, feeling helpless

He admits he's feeling helpless and hurting and struggling here. And I don't want to mispeak on a topic like this so if i'm off on this please feel free to correct me. But the more I read this reprise the more I feel like this reprise also is kind of an admittance to this being a form of self harm too.

Now Cherri adds an interesting element to this. Even without seeing the animation you do get the impression she's by his side, she's sees what he's going through and wants to support him. One of her lines is basically offering her friendship and help

So, come if you're feelin' brave, and fancy yourself a mate / You want it, I got it / See what you like? / We could have it all by the end of the night

Without the animation this part I can see Cherri literally reaching out her hand to Angel in this part. He isn't alone here. He has someone by his side. Someone he can share the fun with and someone to commiserate with. This fact kinda gives it this hopeful tone to it despite the more negative lyrics and implications in parts. The reprise has this too with him saying maybe the hotel won't be terrible. He has this tentative hope for the future here for the first time.

Poison:

This one right off the bat this song has this frustration to it. Frustration for his situation as a whole, frustration at Valentino for putting him through all this, frustration at himself for fully knowing this is all toxic and terrible for him but still "falling for it" anyway (even thought it's obviously not his fault.) Again just purely from the lyrics and tone, this version of Angel feels like he's long past that denial and distraction. He's not distracting himself anymore. Any shred of fun and enjoyment he could have from this is just long since dead. He's completely aware here: He knows that he's trapped in a toxic cycle, fully aware it'll absolutely kill him one day. Part of the chorus is flat out "YEAH I KNOW, (it's/you're) poison" but despite that awareness, he's still stuck in this 'cause of Valentino.

Any way you want me, baby / That's the way you got me, I'll be yours / My story's gonna end with me dead from your poison / I got so good at bein' untrue / I got so good at tellin' you what you wanna hear / I disassociate, disappear / Yeah, yeah, yeah

He still has to be whatever Valentino wants and tell him whatever he wants to hear. The lyrics explicitly sate he completely detaches and simply plays the part he's supposed to. At this point there's no more denying or masking the situation to himself. Angel just sees it as pure survival now.

It's also interesting to note that it's only Angel here. There's no Cherri, or anyone, by his side in this song. He's isolated and desperate and hurt here. It feels like he's more at the end of his rope and just so lost on what to do. This is such a low point for him and his (after) life and he clearly doesn't see any out.

TLDR: Addict has this vibe of Angel wanting to embrace the chaos, the vices, the fun so he doesn't have to think on the bad. And that there's this shred of hope for the future at the end, like it might be possible for him to get out of this. Meanwhile Poison is him fully aware of his situation. He's frustrated, hurt and desperate to get out of this toxic cycle of abuse but he doesn't see how so he's just doing anything and everything he can to survive

#this feels like such a basic analysis but i wanted to share #shut up me #might delete later #hazbin hotel #Hazbin hotel meta #meta #abuse mention #hope someone enjoys my ramblings #Spotify

[sunmoonstarsflowers]

Intuitive Reading: What makes you a Badass?

[ I hope you'd resonate with my message and if you don't, it's alright, perhaps there's another message coming for you.,

I'm not a professional and this is strictly for entertainment purposes, please don't use it as an alternative to any kind of professional advice. If you're actually going through something, it would be better to contact a professional.]

Choose a gif that really attracts you or calls to you:

Pile 1 Pile 2

Pile 3 Pile 4

Pile 1

You're elegant and the biggest strength is that you believe in yourself even after phases of self doubt. It's builds up and it gets better everytime you feel like you're falling. Someone who'd look deep into your eyes would be able to tell that you're fearless. Again, you might fall but you stand up again and you stand up stronger. Do you have Saturn in 5th or Chiron in 5th? You give me 5th house vibes and also, Libra and venus. You should believe more in your beauty. You're crazy beautiful and talented. Moreover, if you don't believe in your talents and beauty, I know you have great potential to build your confidence in them and to enhance them. Also, sometimes people might doubt you, which would make you doubt yourself. I get that's your energy right now. You'll start feeling like the gif I used for Pile 1 after some time, like a month. You should be focusing on yourself, your hobbies, things you've been putting off since some time. Do what you were once good at and believe in that version of yourself. You'll regain your confidence and will definitely feel invincible then. ❤️

Pile 2

I think you're someone who's fun and quirky and being who you are, you have, in a way, learnt how to not care about what most people say. You've learnt to believe in yourself. And this is such a rare thing to be honest. You've learnt how to believe in yourself and its an unfathomable task for a lot of people. You have learnt the difference what it means to be wary of an instinct and confident of another. To know when your mistake is gonna put you in a path you don't wanna take and to know what mistakes are important for you to grow and learn or just simply enjoying your time in the world. You're also focused. You're focused but on the things that the world considers comparatively useless, but you stand your ground, even if it isn't a conventional thing. Also, do you like color blue? Or yellow? It feels like you might have phases where sometimes you have high confidence while sometimes you get low confidence. Don't let the lower times get you. You have to potential to genuinely, from your deepest point, to be a truly confident person. Embrace your imperfections, struggles, as well as talents and wins. ❤️

Pile 3

Waah Pile 3, you're savage. Like you may or may not say it in words or show it on the surface but your savage. You have that 'I'm the boss' mentality and its not ignorant, it's rightful and well deserved. You have been through such phases and cycles which had made you very resilient, things touch you but can never break you. I wish, you guys, accept love, don't be too hard on yourself. You're keen and you don't trust anyone easily, so you might have surveyed people and thier actions enough until now, so learn to melt for the right ones. I know its scary, but learn to soften, it won't hurt you because you aren't a kind of person who lets go of thier boundaries. Your life built your confidence and resilience the hard way. You're strong, you're fire. When you walk, you walk with purpose. This was about the greater energy you embody but remember to soften yourself. You might have your weapons and armours on most of the time, and you don't wanna end up as a mighty but lonely castle. If you don't give time and if you don't put your weapons down on your allies and friends, you might lose them. And trust me, in the end you'll appreciate thier presence more than anything. ❤️ Check the line with highlighted 3 in pile 4.

Pile 4

You're serene. You're empathetic and caring. You're calm when there's chaos around. Not that calm though, but you function at much calmer vibe than most around you. What actually makes you Badass is that you don't let things get to you. You and pile 3 have this in common, that you don't let things cross that door in your heart and rob you off of peace. But you two have very different ways of handling that discomfort. Pile 3 attacks while you, pile 4 defend. You aren't really fighting against each other, I feel you're more likely to be friends, but that's how you act when someone or something attacks you. And you protect too. You're an earthly energy, elder sibling vibes. Another thing that makes you a Badass is that you're adamant, you don't let go of your beliefs, you question them but you don't abandon them. You think in the terms of your family or community. You don't neglect yourself but your major focus is on the whole community. And actually, another badass thing about you is that you really care for yourself, I feel that you never miss your skincare routine, am I right? Apart from that you might have some rituals for yourself that you always fulfill no matter what. These traits make you incredibly amazing. ❤️

Thank you so much. Your feedback is appreciated. ✨

#astro notes #intuitive readings #intutition #pick a card #pick a card reading #pick a pile #Pac #pac reading

[tomorrowxtogether]

TOMORROW X TOGETHER’s playlist

Songs for young people taking on the real world

2023.10.17

The five boys of TOMORROW X TOGETHER have overcome the sweet temptations in front of them to step into reality and into free fall. They’ve mustered up their courage and are facing the inevitable aches and pains that come with growing up in this world head-on. In this playlist, TOMORROW X TOGETHER tells us about some of the songs off The Name Chapter: FREEFALL, the group’s third studio album, where the idols come to terms with their fate and get ready to sprint from a new starting line—as well as some of the songs they’re listening to as they grow up.

TOMORROW X TOGETHER - ​“Chasing That Feeling”

SOOBIN: This is a really catchy song that’ll get stuck in your head fast. I hope you watch us dance along to it!

YEONJUN: I think this song really highlights every one of our voices and shows off what we’re good at. The way the chorus repeats is catchy so I think people will really like it.

BEOMGYU: Make sure to pay attention to the catchy melody and the synths. Just one listen and you won’t be able to get it out of your head!

TAEHYUN: This song’s about young people dealing with the real world. It’s not dreamlike or paradise. Still, I think a lot of people will relate to the idea of knowing what you want right now and pursuing that. 

HUENINGKAI: This song’s all about boys leaving paradise to take on the real world. The longing in our vocals worked really well with the beat and the vibe.

TOMORROW X TOGETHER, Anitta - ​“Back for More”

SOOBIN: Everything’s great about this song, including the choreography. There’s several different versions and I hope you listen to them all.

YEONJUN: Everything about this song, from the beat to the singing and dancing, is so cool and impactful. It really gives you a sense of how TOMORROW X TOGETHER has a dandy vibe but a sexy vibe at the same time. It’s all of our favorites!

BEOMGYU: The instant I heard this song, I thought, “This is the one.” It’s an amazing song, and it makes you feel confident and strong.

TAEHYUN: This song’s just great from start to finish. You’ll feel like the star of your own movie when you hear it!

HUENINGKAI: This is a really impactful song. The music and choreography both turned out really cool. I feel a rush of confidence whenever I dance to this song with the other members.

HANRORO - “Let Me Love My Youth”

SOOBIN: HANRORO wrote my favorite song off our new album, “Skipping Stones,” and this is the song I first found out about her through. It’s a beautiful, warm-hearted song. I hope MOA can stand strong, just like it says in this song.

Akina Nakamori - ​“OH NO, OH YES!”

YEONJUN: I’ve been really into Japanese city pop lately, so this has been my go-to song. It makes me feel chill and slip into my memories anytime I listen to it.

Yorushika - “Left-Right Confusion”

BEOMGYU: This was on the soundtrack to a movie I saw recently. I’m recommending this because the vocals and whole sound are fantastic!

Justin Bieber - ​“Bad Day”

TAEHYUN: I feel the ability to overcome something starts with acknowledgement, so when I don’t feel good, I like to listen to something that matches what’s going on rather than something exciting and upbeat. That’s why I listen to this song at night when I’ve been having a day that hasn’t gone my way.

Tom Misch - ​“It Runs Through Me” feat. De La Soul 

HUENINGKAI: The bass in this song is amazing and I’m completely blown away by the rhythm and how it can be so good when it’s all low notes with nothing high-pitched! This song’s just really cool—that’s why I’m recommending it.

SOOBIN’s Recommendation: easy life - “nightmares” / TOMORROW X TOGETHER - “Skipping Stones”

YEONJUN’s Recommendation: TOMORROW X TOGETHER - “Growing Pain” / WILLOW - “t r a n s p a r e n t s o u l (Feat. Travis Barker)”

BEOMGYU’s Recommendation: TOMORROW X TOGETHER - “Skipping Stones” / Post Malone - “Overdrive”

TAEHYUN’s Recommendation: Frank Ocean - “Self Control” / TOMORROW X TOGETHER - “Happily Ever After”

HUENINGKAI’s Recommendation: MAX - “Love Me Less (Feat. Quinn XCII)” / Bruno Mars - “Talking To The moon” 

#txt #tomorrow x together #231017 #weverse magazine #soobin #yeonjun #beomgyu #taehyun #hueningkai #playlist #weverse

[frenzyarts]

Could you talk a bit about how you design your OCs from a visual level? I really love their designs. Only if you have the time and energy of course <3

Thank you so much omg 💕 I was trying to think of a good way to answer this question, but the truth is my methods are very nebulous and hard to define! I’ll do my best though 🥳

Some characters come to me very easily, some go through a few revisions, and some go through a meat grinder of revisions lol. Rune was easy, her design was just in my head right off the bat from years of drawing/thinking about demons. Yorick was a little different. Awhile back I played a ttrpg and designed this character:

Look familiar? This is prototype Yorick!! (I have this on my portfolio at a higher res if you wanna zoom in or something idk) She was a character who was kind of elfin and was a clown who controlled shadows. When I started pinning down the stories and characters of A Slowly Beating Heart I KNEW I had to put a demonic clown in there, and I thought of this design.

A phase I go through when designing characters when im not sure how they’re gonna look is doing a bunch of iterations based on vibes. Here’s some of the earliest Yorick sketches I could find, you can see how they don’t quite look “right” yet:

Like the vibes were there but that’s not our Yorick! Here’s what I think might be the first or second sketch I did where they look right:

I used the old Yorick I had designed but finally modified the outfit and design in a way that pleased me. I went with this design, and went through some minor edits with the colors, and boom, the demon clown was born! (Though even in this image they aren’t quite right, in the final comic I got rid of the lines on their horns and saturated the green parts of their eyes):

Melody is another story. Versions of Melody had also been living in my mind for almost as long as Rune, but never as a solid design. I have a zillion sketches of Melody that don’t look at all like how she looks now. It wasn’t until right before her appearance in the comic that I actually decided to refine her character design. Since I had never quite solidified how she looked in my mind, getting her on paper was quite the task. Her hairstyle was already on my mind, but I did a bunch of different versions of her halo and outfits. I put a bunch of designs together and sent them out to my friends to ask them to vote on their favorite outfit to help me decide 😂:

In the end Melody’s outfit didn’t quite look like any of these, because they’re all somewhat complex, and I need things to stay really simple for comics. Once I had designed the outfit the struggle still wasn’t over, cause now I had to do colors. Here’s just a small sampling of the color pallets I went through:

I guess if I was gonna break down my process into steps, it would be like this:

1. Sketch a bunch of ideas based on vibes

2. Choose my fav and then refine it further by tweaking the outfit/hair ect

3. Try out a lot of different colors and keep adjusting them until they look right

4. Give birth to my Art Child 💃✨🙌

I don’t always do all that, and some of the design processes for certain characters happen a little differently. But that’s basically it! Sorry this was super long, I hope it helped!!

#my art #character design #art tutorial #tutorial #original character #Yorick #melody #a slowly beating heart #asbh #frenzy post

[feiandart]

This is something people asked me more than a couple times until now in the comments, both in the Italian version of Sugar and in the English one. I often answer this with a couple paragraphs of light explanations, but you know what? Have a seat, I'll actually talk about this in a proper way and this may be a very long ride.

I warn you: I'm writing this from my mobile in my free time. This means early in the morning or late at night after a whole day doing things. My brain is shit in those moments so you could find a lot of errors. I'm sorry if my English will be poor, I'm not really able to correct anything. (Also, I prefer to give you my honest flow without corrections. That may actually help getting the right vibe from all of this? I hope so).

But let's go to the proper answer.

I've been asked: "how much of your life do you process through words?"

There is no easy way to say this, no way to avoid being honest here. The reality is that I put all of my life into this story. There might be a lot of differences in the events, but the feelings, all the traumas I talk about, things the characters say, think or do, all of that is mine. I could literally take pieces from all the chapters and give all of them deep explanations on how those are not just mine, but me. I am between the lines, hidden inside all the metaphors, stuck under the weight of the baddest chapters, trying to breathe after writing the most emotional ones.

I know it's a fanfiction. I know the story is not perfect, that there may be holes in the plot and the characters may seem badly shaped, rough, not real. I know, I am not a professional writer, I might make mistakes. This is no excuse, mind me, but not everything in life is coherent or logical as we often see in the media. We can spend hours or a lifetime creating the perfect story with everything perfectly crafted but that doesn't make it real, because incoherence is a huge part of the human experience. And that is what I want Sugar to be: human, not perfect. Realistic when it comes to emotions and relationships, not necessarily in its plot or events. I want it to be a trip into the deep abyss of an injured mind, trying to hold on with a broken heart, not three unicorns running to Candy Mountain. I want to break you into pieces and slowly help to put everything back together.

Look guys, I get it as much as I get that is not actually a story for everyone. You open it expecting another plot and I give you a bad time instead. You think it's something about a sugar babe and his daddy and I give you traumas and none of that. You come for the smut and I put old wounds and control needs over that too, also denying it for a whole half of the story. Truth is, I am a scammer. You come for a Good Omens fanfiction and I break the characters apart, twisting them to the point they might be the same to the very core, but nothing like it on the outside. You have to dive deep to find them.

My God, what am I even doing?

They asked me, "do you choose your words with care, don't you?"

Oh, dear Lord, I am so sorry because maybe people really think I plot all the metaphors, I think properly of all the dialogues, but what if I don't? Most of the time I don't, really. I just put my hands on the keyboard and let them free to go wherever they want. I type whole pages and emerge right after without having the faintest clue of what I wrote. I need to come back multiple times to check if I got what I wanted in the correct way. Hopefully, it does almost all the time. I know where I start and I know where I want to be in the end, the middle of it is pure instinct and emotions. I know how my characters would behave and play them like a TV show in my mind, while describing scenes on the screen.

( There might be some kind of light spoilers from now on. Mind how you go! )

I know I am using Crowley as the raw essence of a damaged mind and heart. He uses crude metaphors, always talks with anger and uses blood and storms in his speech, because he is instinct, he's a tide, he's greed personified and wants everything he could get cause he truly got nothing in his life. He is the passion who can't be contained, he uses art to process his emotions, he uses music to lose himself in something familiar, hoping someone else could help him find his way back home. He uses gardening to grow things because in his life nothing seems to last long. He can't look at tomorrow without fear, but grows things he hopes will last more than him. Life was not good with him, but he wasn't good with his life either. He did nothing, letting time pass without actually building anything, living the days as they come, drowning his pain in wine or between someone else's legs. He knows most of what he is, most of what he's done, is not healthy. But he never really cared before.

And then there is Aziraphale, which apparently is a walking red flag, traumas personified on two working legs, scared of everything hiding outside his door. He got everything. He has money, a big house, books, some people working with him, and is content. So content his heart yells and cries because he's lonely. So content he can't really control his whole life because he is his own antagonist. So content he's not really scared of what hides outside the door, because what's inside is worst. He uses the softest metaphors, he uses his books to tell stories and talk about himself, he can't really speak is mind and talks, talks, talks so much! He wins arguments because he drags his opponents into exhaustion. He talks them to death, using whole paragraphs of elegant, perfectly crafted phrases and quotes he can shield himself with. He's not like Crowley, just getting started on this new channel of communication, no, Aziraphale is well trained. He has thousands of books he can use to get where he wants and still use his experience poorly because he thinks people are just like the books and guess what? That's not true. People are something else.

It's actually funny how I just condensate two parts of me into two different characters.

Crowley holds my outside, and this is why you have his POV for the entire story. You see the world with his distorted, unreliable vision, you see raw desire to be accepted, the need to be truly seen by someone, big pieces of his mind, his dissociations, his fear, his low self esteem, the thousands of radios turned on in his mind, his incapability to let things truly go, is head full of canvases he never finish. And then you see his rage and you're not sure how much that will last. Yeah, that is me. Welcome to myself.

Aziraphale holds my inside. This is why we never get his POV. Too easy, too deep, too much. He is scared. He needs control. He wants and can't get. He hopes and does nothing. He's stuck in his home, with his books, and finds himself at ease there. He thinks he's safe but he's not. He's a living contradiction and at the same time he's not.

God, what was the question again?

Maybe I wrote too much. Maybe this is not enough. All I can say is that there's something really important in this story, and that is Crowley asking Aziraphale to "look at him", 'cause all he wants is to bee seen.

But in the end, what is happening here is you looking at me. And it's strange to get so naked in front of so many strangers. But it's also good and positive to me to be seen, for once.

So, thank you. Really, thank you. 'cause with every chapter you allow me to express myself in a way I never did in 30 years. Thank you so much.

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #sugar #deep down fei's heart #fanfiction #fanfiction writer #there's something deep down you need to understand to be truly free #thank you so much for helping me express myself #this is extremely personal so don't read if you don't care

[fluentmoviequoter]

okaaaay, first of all i just wanted to say that i've been OBSESSED with your writing and your fics about victor vale lately. it's just SO good???? just know you're changing lives out here

second of all, my request was yet another angst w victor (maybe with a fluffy ending??), but sort of inspired by the grudge by miss olivia rodrigo? i was just listening to this song rn and then this thought came to my mind all of a sudden 😭 idk if you're gonna like the idea, but if you don't, that's absolutely ok ❤️

Oh my gosh, thank you so much!! Changing lives? You're too kind. I absolutely love this idea; I don't listen to Olivia but I actually really like this song! It definitely gives Victor Vale vibes! I hope this is along the lines of what you wanted and please let me know what you think!! (PS, you said 'another' angst to fluff, did you request one of the others? If so, thank you for coming back and did you like it?)🤍

Warnings: ANGST, gets a little fluffy toward the end, spoilers for Vicious. 1.8k+ words

"The Grudge" by Olivia Rodrigo (explicit version)

Like a Grudge

The phone rings, and a rare photo of Victor smiling at you lights up the screen. Your day brightens as you answer. Summer is approaching quickly, but Victor promised to spend extra time with you on Fridays.

“Hey, Vic,” you greet, smiling at the flowers he sent you this morning.

“I’m leaving,” he interrupts, out of breath but emotionless.

“What do you mean?” you ask, sitting up.

“I have to leave. And I am never coming back.”

“You’re leaving school?”

“I’m leaving everything.”

“Why?” you whisper, remembering his promise from a few weeks ago. He said he’d be by your side through anything and protect you, hurt people before they could hurt you. And now, he’s doing the very thing he promised to protect you from.

“Angie.”

Your world shatters around you as the call ends. Victor chooses Angie.

✯✯✯✯✯

You sit up with a choked gasp, your sheets tangled around your legs as you wipe your hand harshly across your cheeks. Victor chose Angie like he always does. The memory of Victor betraying your trust, leaving you, and then hanging up on you still confuses you. Victor was your entire world, and he left, crushing your happiness between his fingers. Life without Victor is different than you expected, and the ghost of him haunts you every week.

The dead flowers on your desk are the only physical reminder of Victor, yet he never leaves your mind. Staring at them, you imagine Victor sleeping peacefully, unaware of the pain you’re experiencing, even years after losing him. You doubt he ever thinks about the damage that he did. Every single detail of the day Victor left you is vivid, but the slow, love-filled moments from before fade more each day. You cling to the memory of him, his voice choosing Angie, and the lack of care he ever had for you. 

You kick your sheets off as your heart rate slows, pulling your knees to your chest. Part of you, deep down, wonders what it would be like to wake up beside Victor, leaving this nightmare you call life behind. You know what you’d say. Despite what he did, you still love Victor Vale with a deep, undying love that you hold to like a grudge. As his voice fades, the nightmare returning to its waiting place in your mind, you stand from your bed, passing the flowers on your way to another day filled with distractions.

Since Victor chose Angie, his voice has been ever-present in your mind. It morphs daily; his simple answer of “Angie” becomes “I chose someone better” when you feel like you aren’t enough. Angie Knight was a part of Victor’s life, but he was yours. Or, at least, you thought he was. You had never worried about him finding someone better and leaving you, and it came out of nowhere, changing your life forever.

✯✯✯✯✯

“What is taking you so long?” your best friend huffs, pushing your door open.

You stare at the flowers, and the pile of dead petals at the bottom of the glass directly mirrors your shattered heart.

“That boy did some damage.”

You shake your head, trying to be tough. “I don’t care. I’m completely fine.”

“Then why keep them?”

“Let’s call it a reminder of my past mistakes,” you answer, brushing past her as you struggle not to scream.

Your act that everything is fine, that you learned from the break-up and got over it quickly, is a failing façade. Under the fake walls you’ve built, you are utterly broken. The tough exterior hides the pain and tears threatening to spill over at any moment, but it doesn't make you feel any better. Victor made leaving you for Angie look easy, with no emotion in his voice as he said goodbye (though, you didn’t even get that, just "Angie"). If Victor made that look easy, you can make moving on look easy, even if it’s impossible.

Walking into the restaurant, you hope your friends celebrate the weekend without asking about your nightmares. You’ve regretted confiding that information to them since the night you called. You just didn’t want to feel alone, but the Victor-sized hole in your heart can’t be filled by gossip and perfume-coated hugs from girls who will never understand what you’re dealing with.

“How are you?” someone whispers.

You pick up your glass, taking a quick drink before raising it slightly.

“To cursed memories,” you say, deflecting from answering.

In your effort to forget him and block the memories out, Victor is the only thing on your mind. He never leaves, and for some forsaken reason, you don’t want him to.

“You should forgive him and forget him!” someone cheers.

“Then move on to the next!” your best friend adds.

Smiling, you wish you were strong enough to do that. Maybe desperation could force it, too, but you need Victor’s memory, or you’ll have nothing to live for.

✯✯✯✯✯

The first breath you take after getting in your car is cleansing. Your friends try to cheer you up and give decent advice, but it doesn’t help. Nothing short of finding out why Victor chose Angie will cure you.

Looking at your reflection in the rearview mirror, you go return to Lockland.

“I’m leaving. Angie.”

Right now, sitting in your car, you hate Victor, and you’re prepared to argue. It happens often: arguing with a ghost in your head, in your car, and in the mirror before bed.

There are hundreds of things you could have said instead of the tear-strained “Why?” you managed. When you picture winning, you lie about cheating on Victor or tell him you won’t miss him, anything to make him feel an ounce of the pain you did.

Winning in your mind is cathartic, especially when Victor falls to his knees, clutching your hands to his chest as he begs you not to go. Fantasising about when he’s sorry is fun at the moment, but when the nightmare returns and you remember the truth, it’s like you’re back in that moment.

There should have been a sign, a clue of some sort, that Victor was unhappy with you and looking for something new, different, or better. As you try to understand why he would do all this to you, you often wonder what you did to deserve it. Could you have saved everything by being less like yourself and more like Angie? Would calling Victor and telling him you loved him a few minutes earlier have changed anything? Victor had to have been unhappy and insecure, because you know in your heart that hurt people hurt people. Had you realized how hurt he was, you would have done everything in your power to heal him, to make him invincible.

“You hurt him too,” you whisper to yourself in the mirror.

It was never intentional, but Victor Vale was easy to hurt. You weren’t always there for him, didn’t notice when he needed to talk, or, evidently, when things were too much for him. You both drew blood, but those cuts were never equal. The scrapes you left on Victor will never hold a candle to the fatal stab wounds he gave you, and they still hurt.

✯✯✯✯✯

The flowers really need to be thrown away. Cleaning your room, you keep stopping to look at them. It’s been years, but moving on seems impossible. 

“Coming!” you yell, snapped out of your thoughts by a heavy-handed knock.

Opening the door, you freeze. You should slam it, throw the vase, do anything to keep space between you. But you can’t move.

“It’s been a while,” Victor says, his hands in the pockets of his trench coat. “I- I just needed to check on you.”

“You needed to check on me?” you repeat quietly, holding the doorknob with white knuckles as you look anywhere but at Victor’s face.

“A lot has happened, and Eli,” Victor begins, but you don’t want to hear it.

“So now I deserve your pity and care? Last I checked, I didn’t.”

“You- can I come in? For just a minute, and if you want me to leave after sixty seconds, I will.”

You clench your jaw as you step back, counting in your mind as he begins talking.

“Your flowers are dead,” he points out.

“Your flowers,” you correct.

“Mine- those are from ten years ago?”

“Yeah, apparently vitriol makes flowers live longer,” you snap. “You’re wasting your minute.”

Victor’s brows furrow as he says, “I tried to be there for you, but when everything happened-“

“You tried to be there for me? You built me up to watch me fall, Victor.”

“I was trying to protect you.”

“From what? You?”

“Yes!” Victor shouts, his hands raising and falling. “Look, everything fell apart, and I didn’t want to drag you down with me. I know that I should have gone about it better, but I was running out of time and your safety was more important than answers or explanations. That’s what I thought, at least.”

“You betrayed me for my safety. That’s an interesting approach, Victor,” you say, crossing your arms across your chest.

“You don’t believe me, I get it. But we were in Merit - for Eli - and things started looking better, and being this close? I couldn’t pass the chance to check on you.”

“We?”

Victor falters slightly before saying, “Yeah. My, uh, my friends Mitch and Sydney.”

You nod, glad that he has everything but wants more.

“Well, your minute has been up for a while, so you can go.”

Trying to be tough, to be mean, you’re disappointed when the comment doesn’t come out as sharply as you intended. You haven’t looked at Victor yet because your eyes will betray your emotions. They will show that you still love him.

“I know you don’t care, I guess that’s fine,” you add, walking toward the door.

“It takes strength to forgive, but I’m not sure we’re there yet,” Victor says, cutting you off.

“You moved on, Victor,” you reply, missing the flinch at your continued use of his full name. He wants to ask what happened to ‘Vic,’ but you continue, “How is Angie?”

Glancing over your shoulder, you watch Victor’s eyes widen as he asks, “You think I left to be with Angie?”

“What else was I supposed to think?”

“I left because I killed her.”

You fall silent, a wave of memories crashing over you. The EO topic was a joke as far as you were concerned, but it explains the sudden changes in Victor and Eli and their subsequent departures. Looking up at Victor, you remain in place, unmoving and failing to find something to say.

“Why’d you keep the flowers?” he asks, cutting through the tension.

He confessed something, so you decide it’s only fair to do the same. “Even after all this, you’re still everything to me, Vic,” you whisper.

Victor's shoulders fall slightly before he looks over your shoulder to the window behind your table. Hearing a giggle, you turn quickly and see a hand retract into the bushes outside as the dead flowers turn green, blooming again.

#victor vale x reader #victor vale #vicious #vicious ve schwab #requests

[takemebackto-eden]

EM ‘Hey Stranger’ • Chapter Twenty Six - Euclid

Chapter summary: Here comes Vecna.

content warnings: mentions of mental health (depression), mentions of suicidal thoughts, mentions of parental abuse / PTSD.

A/N: this chapter might be a bit confusing as its in two different locations (regular Hawkins trailer park and the upside down version of the trailer park) so I hope it makes sense!!! Also, the song isn't from the 80's but fuck it fits perfectly with the scene, its also my favourite song atm and would 100% bring me back from the upside down if I heard it lmao.

I really recommend listening to the song at the same time when reading this chapter so you get a feel for the vibe I'm going for but its totally optional! Any excuse for me to talk about Sleep Token lol.

link to song: Youtube link to Sleep Token - Euclid / can also be found at the Hey Stranger Playlist (which contains all the songs used in this series! :)

Friday / 1pm / Eddie’s trailer / 4 days left 

Nina: “Can Ozzy and Garfield stay with Sheryl, Robin and I  for a while?” 

Eddie: [confused] “Sure, why?” 

Nina: [muttering quietly] “Vecna might get them if they stay here.” 

Eddie: [amused] “Don’t think Vecna feasts on kittens, sweetheart.” 

Nina: [blushing, cute] “Just to be on the safe side.” [she picks them up and puts them in their carrier] “Don’t want anything bad happening to the children.”

Eddie: [looking at Nina fondly, amused] “So it’s fine if Vecna takes your soul and snaps your bones like a twig, but kittens are where you draw the line?” 

Nina: [tickling Garfield’s chin] “They’re our boys!” [looking at Eddie, smiling] “I just want to make sure they’re safe.” [teasingly] “Glad to see you’ve got your sense of humour back, you had me worried for a while there.” 

Eddie: [rolling his eyes, voice soft] “They’re going to be fine, and you’re going to be fine.” 

Nina: [unsure] “I know. Just to be on the safe side.” 

Eddie: [sighing] “All packed?” 

Nina: [going through her draw in Eddie’s dresser] “Nearly, yeah. I’m sorry about this, Eddie.” 

Eddie: “Don’t apologise, I want you to feel safe. It’s not safe here for you at the moment.” 

Nina: [shy] “Funny, this is usually my safe place.” [cautiously] “You’re gonna stay with me, right?” 

Eddie: “Always.” 

Nina: [picking up a tape from the drawer] “What’s this?”

Eddie: [blushing] “Erm, that was meant to be a surprise. I was making you a mixed tape. It’s not finished yet.”

Nina: [grinning] “You always said you were going to make me one.” [teasing] “I can’t wait to hear it.” [joking] “If it’s finished before my bones get crumpled like a piece of paper.” 

Eddie: [grinning] “See, we’re both making jokes about it now.” [Nina smiles at him] “That means that we’re definitely going to beat Vecna.” 

Nina: [sarcastically, bitter] “Actually it means we both have really healthy coping mechanisms and good luck in our lives.” 

Eddie: [wrapping his arms around her waist from behind] “My luck has turned I’ll have you know, the day I met you.” 

Steve: “Ugh, get a room honestly, Hawkins is about to get blown to smithereens and Nina crinkled like a leaf and you’re both still groping each other.” 

Eddie: [grinning] “See, even Steve’s got a sense of humour about it.” [Nina rolls her eyes] 

Nancy: “You guys find anything?” 

Nina: “Nah, nothing. Just packing some stuff to take home.” 

Eddie: “I’ll take them to the car.” [he picks up Nina’s bags, kisses her cheek and leaves the room] 

Robin: “You okay, honey?” 

Nina: [solemn] “Yeah, I guess.” [frustrated] “Just wish we knew what we were up against.” 

Robin: “I know.” [wrapping an arm around her, resting her head on Nina’s shoulder] “Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out.” 

Eddie: “Ready to go?” 

Nina: “Yup! Oh wait, I forgot to get something from the bathroom.” 

Eddie: “You can say condoms, Nina, we’re all adults here!” 

Nina: [appalled] “Eddie! What the hell!” [muttering to herself] “And why would anyone keep condoms in the bathroom? Dumbass.” 

Jonathan: “Why are you talking about condoms- Nina? Are you okay?” 

Nina is looking at the mirror in the bathroom. 

Nina: [cautiously, afraid] “Can- Can you guys see that?” 

Robin: [coming to Nina’s side] “See what?” [looking in the mirror] “There’s nothing there.” 

Nina: [pointing at the mirror] “There’s something in the mirror.” 

Nancy: “There’s nothing in the mirror, Nina.” 

The lights in the bathroom begin to flicker and the group gasps, the flickering lights now spreading to the whole trailer. The lightbulbs begin buzzing and the electronics turning on and off; the microwave pinging, television crackling static and Eddie’s amp whining. 

Nina: [going pale] “I can see it, he’s right there.” [turning to Eddie who is stood facing her] “Eddie, can you see-“ 

Eddie’s hand reaches out to touch Nina, and as his hand rests on her arm, Eddie’s body disappears in a puff of dark smoke, as does Robin’s, Steve’s, Nancy and Jonathan’s. The trailer begins to swirl and furniture evaporates into dusty black clouds, Nina falls backwards in fright. Where Eddie once stood now stands the black figure from the mirror, it’s long claws reaching out for her. 

Vecna: “Nina….” 

Nina screams and scrambles on the floor, desperately trying to skate away from the tall figure looming before her. 

Eddie: [worried] “Nina, what’s wrong?” [he goes to reach for her again and she shuffles back in fright, he looks around at everyone, scared] “Guys, what’s happening?” 

Steve: “It’s happening again, he’s here.” [looking around, frantic] “We need music!” 

Robin: “Nina, can you hear us? We’re here, don’t worry, we’ll get you out of there!” [She reaches to touch Nina and Nina screams, backing away on the floor, hitting her head off the wall as she presses herself against it] “Somebody find some god damn music!” 

Eddie: [rushing around the trailer] “Damn it Wayne, why yesterday of all days did you decide to tidy?!” 

Nina: [blinking furiously, shaking] “Stop, make it stop!” 

The figure transforms into Nina’s Mom and she walks slowly towards Nina, crouching down to her height. 

Nina’s Mom: “Going somewhere, Nina?” 

Nina: [frightened] “Oh god, please no!” 

Robin: [shaking Nina’s shoulders] “Nina! Wake up, wake up!” [she clicks her fingers in front of Nina’s face, Nina looks straight through her, staring at nothing in the middle of the living room] 

Nina’s Mom extends her hand to stroke Nina’s hair, Nina flinches with fright. 

Nina’s Mom: “No need to be scared, it’s just me, your mom, Nina.” 

Nina: [whimpering] “Leave me alone!” 

Eddie: [pained] “Nina, can you hear me? It’s me, it’s Eddie!”

Nina’s Mom’s hand leaves her hair to wrap around Nina’s throat, Nina panics. 

Nina: “Not again, please, no!” [Nina stands and runs, hurtling fiercely out of the trailer door, tripping over her feet and landing on the wet ground with a thump] “Please, not now!” 

Eddie runs after Nina as she sprints out the door. 

Eddie: “Nina! Nina, wait, it’s just us, Nina!” [he catches up with her as she is standing motionless on the grass outside the trailer, her back to Eddie] “Nina?” [he grabs her shoulder] “Nina?” [he moves to stand in front of her and he pales] “It's happening again. Oh fuck, it’s happening again! Guys!” 

Nina is standing completely still, her eyes white and bloodshot, her body and mind unresponsive. 

In Nina’s mind it is just her and Vecna; the trailer park she’s stood in now dark and cold, the only light shining from the moon. The trailer park is deserted, the howling of the wind the only noise in their encounter. 

Venca: “I’ve been waiting for you, Nina.” 

Nina: [in the upside down] “Let me out of here, please, I don’t want to be here!” 

Vecna: [approaching her] “You can’t run from me.” 

Nina: [muttering to herself] “I’m gonna fucking try.” [she begins to sprint in the other direction, carefully weaving in between the trailers] 

Vecna: “You’re good at running, aren’t you Nina?” [Nina continues to run, turning her head occasionally in fear to see Vecna creeping slowly behind her] “Running from your feelings like you did in the woods that day,” [Nina remembers running in the forest, when Eddie found her bloody and crying] “Running from your mom in California,” [Nina remembers sitting in the airport for hours, watching the minutes on the clock tick by] “Running from letting Eddie and Robin into your life.” [Nina stops in her tracks, stunned] “But you can’t outrun this.” 

Nina: “I’m not like that anymore.” [her bottom lip quivers] “I’m better, I’m fixed now. I’m not running anymore.”  

Vecna: [bitter, venomous] “Fixed? How could you be fixed?” [condescending] “Deep down you’re still that broken little girl who cries herself to sleep at night.” [walking towards her menacingly] “You think that I don’t see you? See your pain?” 

Nina: “Stop.” 

Eddie: [shouting back to the trailer] “Get me some fucking music, now!” [looking at Nina, terrified] “Please don’t go, Nina.” 

Vecna: “It could be so easy Nina, just take my hand and I’ll make it all go away.” [Nina begins to tear up] “You think I don’t see how you hid in your room, praying it all would end-“ 

Nina: “Stop, please!” 

Vecna: “-Praying that one day your mother would push you just that little bit harder, hurt you that little bit more-“ 

Nina: [desperate] “Please! I don’t want this!” 

Vecna: “-So that she’d put you out of your misery-“ 

Nina: [clutching her chest, squeezing her eyes closed] “Stop it, get out of my head!” 

Vecna: “- So that you wouldn’t have to do the inevitable-“ 

Nina: [panicking] “It wasn’t like that, I-“ 

Robin: “Something! Anything that plays music! Right fucking now!” 

Steve and Jonathan are rushing around the trailer looking for anything to play music on, a radio, Eddie’s record player, but their minds and hands are shaking with fear. Nancy stands next to Robin, both of them watching Nina as she hangs lifelessly in the air. 

Steve pulls the stereo off the wall in the living room, chipping the wallpaper and breaking the power socket in the process, and plugs the stereo in in the nearest plug socket by the open front door. He turns the volume up full but no sound comes out. 

Back in regular Hawkins, Nina’s feet lift off the ground; her body now at least twenty feet in the air, arms spread out. 

Eddie: [pained, reaching for Nina; fingertips only inches away from her foot as she levitates above him] “Nina! Nina, please! Come back to me!” 

Steve: [slapping the stereo angrily] “Why isn’t it fucking working?” 

Nancy: “Give it here!” [She fiddles with the buttons, with the switch, no sound comes out] 

Steve: [sarcastically] “Oh yeah Nance, I forgot about your ability to manipulate electricity!” 

Eddie: “Hurry up guys!” [to himself, watching Nina] “Holy shit.” 

Nancy: [thinking out loud] “The electricity… he’s manipulating the electricity.” 

Vecna: “Nobody knows how long you lay there on your surfboard, praying nobody would find you, hoping you’d float out to sea and be done with it.” 

Nina: [screaming, distressed] “it wasn’t like that! I can’t do this! Get out, get out!” 

Vecna: “I could make it so easy for you Nina, it’d be like floating right up to heaven. We both know you’ve thought about it.” 

Nina: [screaming] “Get out of my head!” 

Robin: [watching helplessly as Nina floats in the air, her helplessness turning into determination] “Oh, fuck this!” [Robin storms into the trailer, rummaging through the clutter on the sides, finding a mixtape on Eddie’s desk] 

Robin runs back to the living room and puts the mixtape in the wireless battery radio from the kitchen and turns the volume up to the max. 

Eddie: “Robin! That’s not finished yet! I-“ 

Robin: [shouting] “I don’t care! We need music!” [Robin pushes play on the player] 

Dreams by Fleetwood Mac begins playing on the speaker. 

Eddie: [running to Robin’s side] “Wait, not that one!”  

Robin: [stressed, exasperated] “Eddie! I don’t think which song matters right now! I’m trying to save my best friend's life!” 

Eddie: “That song makes her sad, not that one!” [Eddie takes the player and skips a few songs] “This one, trust me!” [to himself] “This will bring her back.” 

Euclid by Sleep Token begins playing on the speaker, Eddie holds it in his hands like a boombox and raises it in the air. 

Nina crouches on the floor, hands over her ears and eyes closed tightly shut when she begins to hear music. 

Just run it back, give me five more minutes, 

I am thick tar on the inside burning. 

Nina: [softly] “Eddie.” [she opens her eyes] “Eddie? Robin?” [peering around] “Guys?” 

Robin: [shouting in the distance] “Nina! Come back to us! Follow the music!” 

I got a ghost in the hallway grinning and a heavy head that won’t stop turning. 

Nina: [standing up, looking around desperately] “Where are you guys? I can’t see you!” 

Vecna: [approaching her] “You won’t get away Nina-“ [Nina begins to run] “Nina!” 

If my fate is a bad collision and my mind is an open highway, 

Give me the twilight two-way vision, 

Give me one last ride on a sunset skylane. 

Nina: [sprinting, out of breath] “I’m coming! I’m coming guys! Where are you? Wait for me!” 

Call me when you get the chance, 

I can feel the walls around me closing in. 

As Nina runs through the trailer park, ghostly figures of people from her past stand in her way. 

Nina’s Mom: “You can’t run away forever, Nina.” 

Nina: [pushing the figure out the way, it dissolves in her hands] “Go away!” 

Carly: “You were a terrible friend, Nina.” 

Jessie: “I only stayed with you because I felt bad for you.” 

Nina: [annoyed, still searching for the gateway] “Oh, fuck off!” 

Just running forward, a life like wires, 

I see the past on the empty ceiling. 

Robin: [faintly] “Nina! We’re right here!” 

Steve: “Come on Nina!” 

Eddie: [pleading] “Baby, please, I love you, don’t leave me now.” 

I play along with the life signs anyway, 

But hope to god you don’t know this feeling. 

Nina’s Mom: “You were a mistake, a constant disappointment.” 

Jessie: “You are unlovable, Nina. Who would want you?” 

Yet in reverse you were all my symmetry, 

A parallel I would lay my life on, 

So if your wings won’t find you heaven, 

I will bring it down like an ancient bygone. 

Nina whimpers as she runs, running in circles at this point, running away from Vecna. She stops to catch her breath. 

Vecna: “You can’t leave us Nina, we’re a part of you now.” 

Nina turns around startled, seeing Vecna’s tall figure stand before her. 

Vecna: [raising his hand to her face, making her squirm and fight] “Join us Nina, we’ll make you whole.” 

Call me when you get the time, 

I just need to leave this part of me behind. 

Nina: [crying, desperate] “This isn’t how it’s supposed to end, please! Let me go!” 

Eddie: [faintly] “Nina! Nina please, I’m right here!” 

Nina: [finally seeing the gateway behind Vecna, eyelids fluttering with emotion, whispered] “I tried, Eddie, I’m so sorry.” 

Do you remember me, when the rain gathers? 

And do you still believe that nothing else matters?

Nina remembers lying on the couch with Eddie on the stormy night after his gig at the Hideout, how safe and peaceful she felt. 

She remembers playing in her welly boots in overflowing puddles with Robin in the summer. 

Vecna: “They’re better off without you Nina, give in to me.” 

Nina: [softly] “It’s not enough.” [looking at Vecna] “It’s not enough.” 

Vecna: [proudly] “That’s it Nina, join us, and soon you’ll be free.” 

For me, it’s still the autumn leaves, 

These ancient canopies we used to lay beneath. 

Nina is reminded of the gang carving pumpkins before Halloween, of her and Eddie watching Ozzy and Garfield play in the piles of orange leaves in the trailer park, of cosying on the couch with Eddie and the gang on their weekly movie nights. 

Nina: [being raised from the ground, tears flowing down her cheeks]  “Just a glimpse of them is not enough.” 

By now, the night belongs to you, 

This bough has broken through, 

And I must be someone new. 

Nina is reminded of the night in the caravan with Eddie, the song they danced to, the flicker of the fairy lights and the twinkle of the stars and meteors above, the way he looked at her with so much love and devotion. 

Vecna: [claw-like fingers only inches from her face] “You’re mine now.” 

Nina: [looking at the gateway] “It’s not enough.” [determined, kicking back against Vecna] “Fuck this!” [Vecna tumbled backwards, dropping Nina to the floor] “I’m coming!” 

No, for me, (just run it back give me five whole minutes, I am thick tar on the inside burning) 

Vecna: “No!”

Nina: [scrambling to her feet] “I’m coming!” 

It’s still the autumn leaves (I’ve got a ghost in the hallway grinning and a heavy head that won’t stop turning) 

Eddie: “Nina! I’m right here baby!” 

These ancient canopies (if my fate is a bad collision and my mind is an open highway) 

Robin: “Nina! We’re waiting for you! We’re right here!” 

We used to lay beneath (give me the twilight two-way vision, give me one last ride on a sunset skylane) 

Nina: [hurtling towards the gateway] “I’m coming, Robin!” 

(Just running forward, a life like wires, 

As I see the past on an empty ceiling) 

Jonathan: “You can do it Nina!” 

Nancy: “Come back to us!” 

The night belongs to you, 

Eddie: “Please baby, please. Come home.”  

(I play along with the lies and anyway, 

But hope to god you don’t know this feeling) 

Nina: “I’m coming!” 

This bough has broken through, 

Vecna watches Nina as she races through the dark trailer park.

Yet I’m reverse you were all my symmetry, a parallel I would lay my life on, 

Nina crashes through the gateway. 

I must be someone new, 

Nina’s body lets out a loud gasp as she drops from the sky to the floor. 

So if your wings won’t find you heaven, 

I will bring it down like an ancient bygone. 

Eddie: [pulling Nina’s weak, shaking body onto his lap] “Nina? Nina, can you hear me?” 

The whites of your eyes turn black in the low light, 

Nina: [softly] “Eddie…” 

In turning devine, we tangle endlessly, 

Eddie: [crying] “Oh, Nina!” [he pulls her tightly into him, his face in her neck] 

Like lovers entwined, 

Eddie: [choked] “I thought I lost you.” 

I know for the last time, 

Nina: [breathless, panting, pale] “Not getting rid of me that easily, Munson.” 

You will not be mine, 

Eddie: [clutching her desperately] “I hope not.” 

So give me the night, the night, the night.

Comment to be added to tag list, please leave a comment if you liked this chapter! :)

➡️ Chapter Twenty Seven - Follow You

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddiemunson #eddie fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddiemunsonstrangerthings #eddie munson fluff #stranger things eddie #eddie munson angst #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson fic #eddie munson lives #eddie munson series #eddie munson stranger things #eddie smut #eddie my beloved #eddie the banished #eddie the freak munson #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson smut virginity #eddie munson smut #stranger things smut

[ephhemeralite]

Since you came to ask for my process, I'd like to come over here and ask about yours!! I see you also do drafts, and I'd love to hear how that looks for you 👀

There is no pressure to go as in depth as I did for mine though!!! And there is no rush <333

I hope your writing is going well!!!

hello!! i have written, honestly, so much in response to this. thank you very, very much for asking, because i love to talk about writing!! maybe more than i enjoy writing, even. lord.

one caveat about me and prose: my thing is very, very definitely poetry. i write poetry about every other day and i have done for years. i adore fanfiction -- to write it, to talk about it, to brainstorm about it, to help edit my friends'. i love how collaborative it is, i love its unique sets of tropes, i love when people talk to me about my fics and their own. i LOVE fic. i do not adore writing it the same way. sometimes, i think of it as a means to an end (having a fic i would like to read and am proud to have written). the way that i go about writing fics reflects this, i think.

my process is pretty shaky and i can be bad about sticking to it (i try to 'trick' my brain out of needing the things it needs to complete longform writing. like a FOOL). the general shape of my process is: an inciting idea (a song lyric, a poem, another fic, a tumblr post, "wouldn't it be cool if [blank] happened in a fic?") -> an actual concept (what would actually have to go on in a fic to make [blank] plausible) -> first draft (me telling the story to myself, ugly) -> second draft (rewrite with a lot of influence from the first draft but, like, good to look at). all throughout this process, i tend to take the time to line edit when my brain gets too overwhelmed with the actual writing, since i find editing to be leagues easier. it's a good way to take a break while still working on the fic, but it is deeply inefficient from every other angle. but, hey, the first rule of fic is to have fun and be yourself.

i'm going to go into detail under the cut bc no one's dash deserves what i've done to this ask.

warning (?) for the fact that the fic i'm currently writing is hockey rpf.

i usually start out with rambling to my friends, too! when my hrpf first possessed me, i sent about 15 messages to my friend cara (who doesn't give a shit about hockey or hrpf) that outlined the (hrpf-specific) trope i liked, what fic inspired me (x), and the goal of my own fic. an abbreviated snippet of that:

it could be interesting to play with the two ways the trope manifests (violent/aggressive and protective) (needing to be taken care of/reassured by teammates) via having them both nest. it has the potential to be so tender . . . i have this mental image of ullmark, who is spacy (clue that he's due for nesting on his own) at practice doing drills or smth when he hears swayman yell/yelp/smth (depends on what sets him into nesting, hurt/confronted/whatever) and goes to check on him only to be met with a fully nesting goalie. while trying to calm him down, he ends up nesting, too.

i imagined this as a oneshot with an extended version of this scene and, perhaps, another. i knew what vibe i was shooting for and what content might pair with it. i skipped the concept step, because i am a fool and i hoped it might be short enough to get through writing it with momentum. i did not do that. more on this later.

what an idea turning into a concept should look like:

i want to write a version of the batfamily/white collar crossover that deals with all related topics the way that //i// think they should be handled

into

a two-chaptered fic, heavy on parallels, split between peter and dick's povs. lots of unreliable narration where the parallels draw attention to how unreliable everything is. both chapters should include the same or similar scenes with the characters' first impressions of each other, moments when they clash (insert scene ideas where dick loses agency, peter invades his privacy, a major plotpoint from the show, etc), how that results in a rise in tension, and when that tension breaks in the climax (burning building?? dick fakes his death???), and closing scenes. dick's pov is going to include a lot more family stuff, focus on the issues of the fic, etc, while peter's pov obscures the issues and completely misses the presence of dick's family.

this is only a recreation of what my 'acquainted with the saint of never getting it right' fic's concept would have looked like, since i've lost all of this since i drafted it two years ago, but the thought stands. it's really sparse -- less than your zero draft, even, but the next step in my process is more than a zero draft, so i'd say they hold the same place in my process. i might include references to ideas i have for scenes if i have them, but they're usually few-word clues like "sketchbook" or "peter in apartment for coffee."

since i like to swim without a paddle, my next step is draft one. my goal is to get it down; if the details feel good and come easy, i will include them, but i don't let them trip me up. it's easier to add shit into the next draft than it is for this one to go uncompleted, basically. some word choices from this draft might remain in the final piece, but rarely does sentence structure or much else.

Sway is growling from deep in his chest, projecting the sound out across the ice. The rest of the team is inching away from Sway’s crease and towards Linus, which upsets something in the back of his mind — Sway should have the team around if he's upset. Clearly, with the growling, he doesn't want them close, but that doesn't mean that they should leave him, either. Once he settles down, he's going to want them. Linus knows, he'd had his fair share of triggered nesting episodes when he was younger. Unless there was something specific that’d set him off — then things would be different, according to what he needed — but Linus doubts that. It was mostly likely that this was just a simple rough start and Sway could get into proper nesting the moment he settled down and relaxed in the net. He could show Sway that easily, Linus thinks. His drifting forward comes to a gentle stop near the front of the pack of teammates and coaching staff carefully not crowding Swayman. He registers, in a distant way, that what's happening right now is going to cause a heaping helping of issues for somebody, but he's also not worried about it. At all.  What he's worried about is how Sway needs to feel safe right now and how he doesn't. Linus knows that he's never felt safer than while nesting for this team and that he could give Sway that, if he tried. He just has to get Sway to a nest. All he needs to do is tell Sway that and Sway will surely listen. He lets out a loud chirp, cutting off whatever the head and goalie coaches were trying to say to Swayman. Usually, he'd feel pretty guilty about interrupting, but it's alright. He's going to fix the issue; they'll understand. Sway moves from eyeing up the coaches to staring straight at him so fast that Linus worries about him pulling something; all of the more reason to get him safe and tucked away, somewhere where they can both relax. The growl dies abruptly in his throat, which makes Linus want to preen. Clearly he knows his teammates best. Linus chirps again, eager to get this moving along. Eyes locked onto him, Sway chirps back.

this is a pretty long excerpt, sorry, but a lot happens between the first and second draft and this has plenty left unworked.

the first paragraph is alright -- some imagery i like (the growling and the team's movement), linus' thought process toes the line between coherent and incoherent the way i'd like it to (might lift that, wholesale, to the second draft), although the phrasing "which upsets something in the back of his mind" is... eugh.

the second, third, and fourth paragraphs' main use is to outline where linus' mindset is going, although it's clunky and off-target. i just need the reminder to write his mindset in and its vague shape, for this draft, though. if i kept any of this, the phrasing/sentence structure would need to be changed, but it's more likely that i'd scatter it through the movement and description i'd add into the second draft. my first drafts tend to be either all-internal or all-external, so my second drafts act as the equalizer.

beyond that, my second drafts also make everything... longer. so much longer. it helps me move everything from a barebones "this is what probably happens" to "this is what experts call a nice reading experience," you know? plus, i can move forward with draft one with questions still unanswered, like: i haven't actually decided how i want the narration to refer to these characters, yet. the first name vs last name vs nickname and WHEN debate is an important one, but if i got hung up on that first, i'd never actually write the damn fic itself. instead, we can get it moving.

the difference between a first and second draft might look like this for me:

Nile is in the desert.  Her boots are stiff with sand, her hands grasping her rifle, her body weary under her gear. She's marching. On the back of her tongue, she tastes blood. There's not another person around for miles. No squadmates, no commander. No civilians, no insurgents. The sun beats down on her from its place at perfect zenith. Nile stumbles to a stop, heaving for the heat. She casts about for her water, but it's not where it should be or anywhere it shouldn't be, either.

vs

Nile is never going to get out of the desert. That’s most of what she knows. There are other things, like: her boots are stiff with sand, her hands are grasping a rifle, her body is weary under her gear. She’s marching. On the back of her tongue, she tastes blood. She’s alone. From horizon to horizon, the terrain is empty of everything but herself. Her squadmates are missing, her commander absent. There are no civilians, no insurgents.  The sun beats down on her from its place at perfect zenith, millions of miles away. She stumbles to a stop, heaving for the heat. She wishes, desperate beyond words, for water, but her bottle is missing. It’s not hooked onto her vest or around her hips; she’s never spent a moment more aware of each of the trillion grains of sand that surround her, dry as dust, as in this moment.

(this fic, even the sun knows where you sleep, has been languishing as a half-finished second draft since may of last year. it's a crossover between the old guard and the sandman, where nile has a series of dreams influenced by morpheus. this is one of them) the first draft of this fic is about 5k, but the finished second draft could end up around 15k. long as hell, by my poet standards.

this second draft is lacking line edits, but bloop (my beloved sister, muah, ily, etc) helped me comb through it months ago so the proposed changes are available. the phrasing is prettier, the structure less repetitive, the imagery and setting clearer. the parts of this that are written are just a stone's throw away from being of posting quality. unfortunately, i'm also of the camp no-posting-before-completed, so it won't be.

i have a gomens fic sitting unfinished on my account because i lost steam and interest before i finished the second draft of its last chapter, which is just... so unfortunate. i'd love to finish it, and eventually i might, but i've acquired a bit of distaste for gomens in the meantime and (in the spirit of being myself and having fun) i'm not beating myself up about it. but, like, lesson learned.

back to the point: sometimes, the second draft can change more of a fic (warning for non-graphic violence):

Nile is standing at the window at the top of Merrick's skyscraper, Andy's labrys in hand.  The window is shattered again, though there's no other proof of their battle that Nile can sense. Andy is nowhere to be seen, nor is Merrick. Nile doesn't look down through the window, but she knows there's no crushed car or mutilated body, either. There is Nile, standing at the shattered edge, weathering the sharp breeze snapping against her. There is the ax in her hand, the wooden handle rough. Grainy. It hasn't been smoothed by use or through craftsmanship and Nile can feel splinters bite into her grip.  The wood is hot, she realizes suddenly – not skin-warm, but the type of hot that comes from holding something porous as it burns and vents heat through places yet untouched by the flame. In panic, she raises her head to find the source and is blinded, completely. The shock of it is such that she stops moving entirely and blinks, uncomprehending – the sun.

vs

Nile is standing in the moment before the fall. The precipice.  She’s at the top of Merrick’s tower again. Behind her lies a cold and empty room, made more of shadow than substance. She knows that she is supposed to continue through – see the moment to its end – but she has been given the opportunity to pause, as time comes to a standstill. Some things have changed; Andy and Merrick are missing. The evidence of their fighting is gone, except that the window is already shattered. A cold wind rushes through the absence, knocking sharp teeth against her body, frozen in its lunge forward toward empty space. In her fist is the labrys that should be cutting into the meat of Merrick’s shoulder. Nile can feel the tackiness of blood in her grip on the wooden handle. She wonders at the grainy texture caught beneath it, surprised that time nor craftsmanship hasn’t smoothed it over, before she understands that this is not Andy’s handle. Instead, the roughly-hewn lumber extends from the floor to a place over her head to become a sort of halberd, its point on the floor supporting most of her weight.  It's hot, too – not skin-warmth, but the type of heat that comes from holding a porous item as it’s being consumed by fire, venting heat out through places yet untouched by flame. Nile isn’t injured by the blister of it, but the sensation of burning without pain unnerves her and she raises her gaze to find the blade and the flame. Only, she doesn’t make it that far. Lifting her face out of her hunched position brings it to look toward the window, where she discovers the opposite of Merrick’s abyssal building as it inundates her: an immense deluge of light.

there's a lot more definitive changes to structure, phrasing, and imagery here than in my last snippet. i do, in a literal sense, go through and rewrite each word of my fic between drafts, but how many of those words are carried over from the first to the second can vary depending on the quality of the draft. it's way easier for me to rework a pre-existing piece than make something, wholesale, which i'm well aware of and try to cater to. this is the method that's seen my writing improve the most, even though i think it's wildly impractical and unwieldy. i've even done it with this exact post, which part of why it's taking me so long to finish it!

i'm trying something new with the process on the hrpf, since it's been giving me so much trouble. the theme's changed a bit, with a wider scope and something specific to say, but i also want to incorporate a social media/journalism/outsider's perspective element, which will let me move around outside of the characters' narrations while establishing the wider world of the au. this new step is as close to a zero-draft as i've gotten, even though it's still way less detailed. it looks like this:

MOST VIOLENT VS MOST AMIABLE GOALIES TO NEST IN THE NHL listicle Sway and Linus discuss nesting, Linus has settled into a pattern Could gentle-nester ullmark be a calming influence over swayman or will he dull his edge? speculative piece, focus more on the first option maybe to contrast the move towards understanding anger. Bruins vs buffalo, ullmark in net (dec. 7 game? If the timeline for that works), linus is upset at the loss/it goes bad somehow. Sway is supportive in a more assertive way than typical. It doesn’t start here but it turns here Can’t decide if tweets or something would be good here Internal, staff-only memo advising to keep sway away from linus when he’s feeling broody.

each line represents a separate 'chunk' of the fic. with the added elements, i need to know what will go where so that i can make sure the storytelling tracks throughout. i'm still on this part of the draft, but i'm having a good time with it again which is what i think is most important.

anyway, thank you for asking!! i definitely love to talk about writing! i'm always sooo down to chat, too, except for maybe right now because i am going to pass out asleep i think. <3!!!!!!

#answered ask #experiencing the horrors of this british literature class but we keep going!!!! #<- this was uhm ten hours ago i am in bed now. #sorry if you didn't want to hear about rpf. that's where im at tho

[mathiwrites]

20 Fic Questions

This seems fun. Thanks to @angelosearch for tagging me in this one. Tagging some usual suspects and anyone else who wants to give it a go - @achaotichuman @goldheartedchaoticdisaster @songofthesibyl

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 8!

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 165,248

3. What fandoms do you write for? DC Comics & ACOTAR, currently.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Justice League's Moms' Book Club's Guide to Vampire Slaying (DC Comics)

Wildflowers (ACOTAR)

The Lighthouse (DC Comics)

Anthophile (ACOTAR)

Five Years (DC Comics)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I always respond to comments. I appreciate them so much and I want to show how much I value comments by always answering them as much as possible.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? It's a toss up between Wildflowers since it's part 1 of 2, but I have a Jason/Kori oneshot that is just angst all the way through.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? It's not complete yet, but in terms of vibes, it's probably gonna be the Moms fic (bc I can't hurt our moms!!) or the lighthouse. It was meant to be slice of life/happy.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not yet, and fingers crossed not ever. I just want people to enjoy what I've written and if it's not for them, that they do find a fic that is up their alley! Positivity all around.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? So far, only angsty smut has been posted, but kinky smut is coming right up 👌

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? I do, but it isn't posted. It's a private work. It's a Diablo 4, Witcher and JJK crossover with a dash of Star Wars and Tokyo Ghoul LMAOOOO

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? God, I hope not!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope, but I have considered translating it.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes! Five years is co-written. I have an Erwin x Levi fic that's co-written but I need to edit.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship? It's a toss up between Orm x Clark, Superbats (and/or Superwetbats) and Barry x Hal x Kom.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? I like to hope that all my WIPs will be finished one day.

16. What are your writing strengths? Based on what I've been told, imagery is my strength and tying visual with sensations. Sometimes, I drop BOMB ASS lines that I forgot I wrote until my betas tell me that the sentence gave them shivers.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Currently, I've got major pacing issues for some fics I'm posting as the muse comes a long. I do think my smut needs improvement, but you know, I should actually go practice instead of wishing I was good.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? It irks me when writers use google translate, so I wouldn't do it myself. I am bilingual in English and French, with some very formal Spanish, so those would be the only three you'll catch me writing. Otherwise, I'll just use italics and say it's in another language.

19. First fandom you wrote for? ✨Neopets✨

20. Favourite fic you've ever written? I'm so, so soft for anything that involves the supermoms. I'm on an Atlanna kick right now, so definitely The Lighthouse or JL's Mom's BC's Guide to Vampire Slaying. Ugh, wait I also love writing kid versions of characters so maybe Wildflowers too AHHHHH

#writing #ao3 #dc comics #fanfiction #dc fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #about me #tag games

[withasideofshakespeare]

We all know that I am First Quarto Hamlet’s number one fan (and I’m probably the only one who thinks I don’t talk about it enough...) so I thought it was time I write out my thoughts on staging Q1′s version of act 3, scene 4, how it affects the plot, and how I understand the odd choices made by its players. Before we begin, here is a rundown on what Q1 is for the uninitiated: https://www.tumblr.com/withasideofshakespeare/704686395278622720/a-rundown-on-the-absolute-chaos-that-is-first?source=share

Another quick note: I will not be adjusting Q1 spelling for this so if it’s in quotes, the spelling errors are some dead guy’s fault. Now, here’s how I’d stage this scene! (Below the cut for your sake)

TW for murder and mention of sexual assault (mentioned by the quarto, not me!)

The first major change I’d make would be tonal. A lot of typical Hamlet productions tend to make this scene angry for Hamlet and terrifying for Gertrude, but I find that the overall tone of Q1 is more subdued. Sorry, Branagh, but no one’s screaming at each other in this production. There’s a quieter horror here. Hamlet enters Gertrude’s chamber calling to her: “Mother, mother, O are you here? How i'st with you mother?” This is significant because it almost seems like he’s let down his guard for a moment. Q1 Hamlet almost never refers to Gertrude as “mother,” only “madam,” and I like the interpretation that Claudius is behind this- Q1 Claudius has the vibes of a step-father who demands that his new wife’s kid refers to his parents as “sir” and “ma’am.” I’d want Hamlet’s tone to be familiar here. He trusts that he’s out of Claudius’s earshot and puts enough hope in Gertrude to assume she won’t rat him out. Upon arriving in her chamber, it should be clear to the audience that Hamlet has an uncanny sensation that he’s being watched. He already knows what he’s going to tell Gertrude (or at least the gist of it) and he knows that being overheard is extremely dangerous. He’s pretty frantic by this point in the play, so we get the line:  “I'le tell you, but first weele make all safe.”

He seems to weigh his options through the next few lines. He looks back at the arras and guides Gertrude away from it, towards her bed. He takes a breath and draws his dagger. He has no intention to hurt his mother, but he is hoping that this half-threat will provoke any onlooker to come forward. Polonius (Corambis, whatever.) cries out from behind the arras and Hamlet whirls around and stabs him through the fabric. There’s no confusion in Hamlet’s next lines as we get in the later versions of the play, so I believe Polonius (Corambis... ugh) either falls forward and Hamlet sees his face or he manages to deduce who it is given that he just saw Claudius in another room.

Gertrude panics and tries to get up. Hamlet knows he only just has time to get a few words in to subdue her so he says the infamous “Not so much harme, good mother, As to kill a king, and marry with his brother.” She sits down again. 

“How! kill a king!“

Hamlet seems to steel his nerves and carries on, his dagger sheathed. He takes down a portrait from the wall: the royal family before things went awry. He ignores his younger self smiling back up at him and turns the painting to his mother. “Why this I meane, see here, behold this picture, It is the portraiture, of your deceased husband, See here a face, to outface Mars himselfe, An eye, at which his foes did tremble at, A front wherin all vertues are set downe For to adorne a king, and guild his crowne, Whose heart went hand in hand euen with that vow, He made to you in marriage, and he is dead. Murdred, damnably murdred”

He watches her intently, gauging her reaction just as he’d instructed Horatio to do at the play. If she’d shrunk away from her now-murderer son before, now she listens intently. He carries on, taking a gamble:

“Looke you now, here is your husband, With a face like Vulcan. A looke fit for a murder and a rape”

He isn’t entirely sure what he intends to imply, but somewhere, subconsciously, he feels he’s right. Gertrude doesn’t want Claudius. (And I think in the context of the First Quarto, he’s right.)

She pleads with him to stop. Maybe she’d suspected Claudius, maybe not. Either way, now she has to keep quiet and pretend everything’s normal with confirmation that Claudius is a killer (and so too is her son...)

The ghost appears. Gertrude shivers. She can’t see or hear it, but she feels it. Hamlet drops the painting and leaps to his feet, torn between attentiveness and terror. Guilt crashes over him. He has failed to kill Claudius. He has killed an innocent man. Hamlet tries to conceal his sobs. The ghost steps towards him, its back to the audience. Hamlet is trembling, but we can’t see his face.

The ghost steps away as instructs him to comfort his mother and we see Hamlet pressed against the wall, tears in his eyes. He turns to Gertrude, mirroring the ghost’s motion, and chokes out  “How i'st with you Lady?”

She responds: “Nay, how i'st with you That thus you bend your eyes on vacancie, And holde discourse with nothing but with ayre?”

It hits him all at once. She can’t see it, she can’t hear it, it can’t vouch for him. His tears spill over. 

He prays he’s wrong. 

“Why doe you nothing heare?” 

“Not I.”

“Nor doe you nothing see?”

Gertrude isn’t sure what to think. If the mad prince tells her to believe that Claudius killed her first husband, does she dare listen?

She responds, shakily: “No neither.”

“No, why see the king my father, my father...” Hamlet reaches out as if to touch the ghost, but it only looks back, sorrowful, and strides away, vanishing into the air.

She says he is mad. She doesn’t know if she believes it. She doesn’t know what to believe. 

Hamlet returns to her side and frantically places her fingers over his wrist. His heart still beats, doesn’t it?

“Idle, no mother, my pulse doth beate like yours, It is not madnesse that possesseth Hamlet.”

He isn’t sure whether he’s convincing her or himself. Gertrude pulls him into her arms. She can’t help it. She feels the blood on his hands, sticky against her dress. She pulls him closer.

He eventually pulls away and implores her on his knees:

“O mother, if euer you did my deare father loue...” He echoes the ghost’s if thou didst ever thy dear father love... half-intentionally. If the ghost cannot speak to her, he will. He must.

“Forbeare the adulterous bed to night, And win your selfe by little as you may, In time it may be you wil lothe him quite: And mother, but assist mee in reuenge, And in his death your infamy shall die.”

The ghost asked him to leave her to heaven. He fears what her judgment might bring. He loves her. He needs her. He can’t do this alone. He’s so scared and he just wants his mother’s affirmation that everything will be alright, that she will support him, that somehow, their family can be saved. He knows he’s lying to himself, but he can’t stop.

They make eye contact. Gertrude takes a moment before nodding and longer before she speaks, but she agrees.

“Hamlet, I vow by that maiesty, That knowes our thoughts, and lookes into our hearts, I will conceale, consent, and doe my best, What stratagem soe're thou shalt deuise.”

She holds his hands for a while, but her eyes drift towards Polonius’s (Corambis’s ARGH) body and Hamlet, who was facing away from it, suddenly realizes what he’s done all over again. He scrambles to his feet and wraps it in the arras before frantically dragging it out of the room and off stage.

Gertrude doesn’t move. She sits on her bed, breathing heavily, her head still turned towards the door. The pause feels long and drawn out. Too long. She stands very suddenly and grabs a rug, placing it over the bloodstains on the floor. She hangs up the painting and as she’s centering it, Claudius enters.  (The Q1 cue is:  “Exit Hamlet with the dead body. Enter the King and Lordes.”  There is, notably, no exit cue for Gertrude. He comes to her, not the other way around.) She turns to face him. He greets her:

“Now Gertred, what sayes our sonne-”

He notices the blood on her dress. He looks down. The rug he’s standing on is soaking through with blood. 

“How... how doe you finde him?”

She stands with her back to the audience, facing him, hardly moving. The panic and shock and horror hit her all over again and she reveals all: 

“Alas my lord, as raging as the sea: Whenas he came, I first bespake him faire, But then he throwes and tosses me about, As one forgetting that I was his mother: At last I call'd for help: and as I cried, Corambis Call'd, which Hamlet no sooner heard, but whips me Out his rapier, and cries, a Rat, a Rat, and in his rage The good olde man he killes.”

What else is she supposed to do in her bloodstained dress, the carpet sticky with gore, and her portrait hung sideways on the wall? Something is rotten in the state of Denmark and Claudius can’t suspect it’s her. Not yet.

#hamlet #shakespeare #first quarto hamlet #q1 hamlet #she follows through on her promise when she drinks the poison in act 5 #she knows. #she'd rather it be her than hamlet #q1 KILLS me #every time. #ALFLHSLFLFSGHLSFLSFK #and uh. that's how i'd do 3.4 Q1-style

[softlyapocalytpic]

Deacon

My interpretation of Deacon is very much in the camp of, “every good lie has a seed of truth”. Got no idea if that what makes a good lie, but I think it’s a fun story telling device so idc. I never want to take away from him being a liar because it feels like it’d be a disservice to his character, but from his dialogue it feels like there’s always that grain of truth. Rather than just flat out lies, he twists the truth. The only time it ever feels flat out is when you’re supposed to doubt him, (like that he’s been to Greenland or played cards with Mr. House). It’s wacky, outlandish, and he plays it straight because that’s apart of the joke.

Because at his heart he’s a goofball! I think that Deacon shows more of who he truly is than he realizes by the mere fact that he doesn’t really know who that is anymore. If you spend sometime time as the lie, when does it become the truth?

He’s so edgy in own head, but I think that his true colors show from his actions which are usually spent either a) protecting the people he loves, or b) keeping their spirits high. He may be cynical, but he doesn’t want to be. He admires optimism and hope and surrounds himself in it, and I think some of it rubs off on him when he isn’t looking.

How can he not? The way that I can hear his voice SPARKLE after you blow up the Institute… Like the whole world has just taken on a new brighter shade. But also the way that he fights, and he fights, and he fights even in the darkest hours of the Railroad. At times I think he feels beaten down and broken, like he couldn’t get up again, but then he looks at these beacons of hope like Dez, Glory, and everyone else and he can’t help it! While he definitely has the “man loses last bit hope he didn’t know he had” moment, he doesn’t stay in the darkness. He’s magnetized to the light. Something something a lantern in the dark hehe.

Piper

I’ve fallen in love a little bit with almost all of the Fallout 4 companions, and Piper is the latest 💞. I made a conscious effort to spend more time with her on my survival play through and she’s just so charming. Bethesda knew what they were doing and they got my pansexual ass hook, line, and sinker. She’s sweet, and awkward, and passionate, and quirky, and goofy, and driven. What’s there not love?

I think my Piper is definitely a reflection of what I’m feeling like in my early twenties, except a more fantasized “country girl in the big apple vibes” version. Life is an adventure, and oh fuck being an adult with responsibility is difficult. I care so much about my community yet feel so isolated for one reason or the other. She’s fighting for justice but doesn’t have it all together yet. She trips, stumbles, and is learning.

I think the biggest roadblock for loving her character had been the contradiction of being ostensibly pro-synth but also lambasting McDonough for being a synth publicly. However, when I took a look at that as a character arc I really began to appreciate her!

Piper’s point was never to promote synth hate, and I’m so compelled by her grappling and dealing with the fact that she did. That her constant strive to deliver the unabashed truth, along with her (rightful) disdain of McDonough as a person meant that she helped the paranoia. That she made synths the bad guys rather than the Institute at large. Her seeing the toll of a full out war with propaganda from all sides, and developing another layer to her belief system. An awareness of her words and how they effect people.

Cait

I know that for some character arcs it’s about learning to be okay in your own body, on your own, but it’s SO important to me that Cait ends her story with someone absolutely smitten for her. It doesn’t matter the gender (although I’m personally partial to a girlfriend for her), she needs someone to hold her. To be patient with her. To call her out on her shit when she’s being dumb, and stand by her through the roughest parts of her journey. I want her to feel warm, and safe, and held and to be surrounded by people who love and appreciate her.

Also want her to have a complicated relationship with drugs that isn’t easy, but that she feels like she has agency and choice over. That she doesn’t need to feel ashamed for her drug use! That sure she’s got baggage but she’s so worth carrying it. I want Cait to live an easy breezy life where she’s surrounded by laughter.

(Man I guess this was less meta and more me wanting to give Cait nice things lmao).

In such a bad mood after reading something that I won’t say more about because I don’t care for engaging in internet discourse! So instead I wanna post something positive! These are just some thoughts on a couple of the companions. Definitely not the full breadth of my thoughts, but I’m kinda just not in the mood to be critical right now. Just need something good to cheer me up. Hope it can do the same for you!

My interpretations generally tend towards the sweeter more optimistic end, and I’m aware of that. But I stand by them none-the-less. I want the wasteland to become a softer place, not a harder one, and I think that while characters start out in dark places they can be lifted out of that. Fallout already spends so much time really showing off the depths of the horrors of humanity and I think that it needs to foster hope. Hope and growth give meaning to the struggle. The violence may be pointless but then we can choose to be different. Idk y’all it’s nearly two in the morning and I just want some feel goods after being absolutely STEAMED.

If you wanna join in on the fun and add your own thoughts I’d love to hear them. About these guys or any others. I just picked a random three myself. It can be angsty! I just ask to keep things respectful and compassionate in how you talk about it.

#fallout 4 #fallout 4 deacon #fallout 4 cait #piper wright #headcanons #meta #my hopes and dreams