#like i so badly want to create and create something beautiful but sometimes it all feels like a fat joke

[secondbeatsongs]

as a bi person, the bisexual flag brings me infinite joy and always puts a smile on my face, however as a person who has a Passion for Graphic Design, that undersaturated shade of purple infuriates me when it's used digitally

like, on an actual flag - which was its original purpose - it looks great!

those look fine! lovely, even! with the semi-transparent fabric, the way it catches the sunlight, it looks beautiful!

but now look at how it looks digitally

the pink and blue are so vibrant compared to the sad, lonely lavender!

and let's look at this statement from Michael Page, the creator of the bi flag:

(sidenote: he created this flag in 1998, so if his takes on bisexuality is different from yours, it's okay to notice that! a lot has changed since the 90s when it comes to lived experiences and the way we describe them. but, it's also important to respect his thoughts about this and the way he presented them, even if today, we'd probably not say that bi people "blend unnoticeably into both the gay/lesbian and straight communities.")

so in pantone colors, the pink is 226 C, the blue is 286 C, and the purple of the flag is 258 C.

but...here's the deal

Michael talks here about how the key to understanding the symbolism is to know that the purple blends into both the pink and blue. and on a physical flag, I think you can see that!

but digitally, it absolutely does not blend. it clashes badly, and looks oddly separate from the other two colors.

which got me wondering...what purple do you get if you actually blend 226 C and 286 C?

oh! oh, my god.

look at that! look at how nicely it fits between those colors!

look at it next to the original color scheme! look at how much more vibrant the purple is!

and friends. this is just blending through rgb! you get even more purple variations when you use other color spaces!

let's compare all of them:

(top: original, lab. middle: lrgb, lch. bottom: rgb, hsl)

look at all of the different purple options you can get just by combining these two colors!

if you want almost too-vibrant saturation, you can go hsl, if you want something more relaxed that's closer to the original, you can go lab or lrgb. and if you want to split the difference, lch is bright and violet, while rgb is there with its saturated but darker purple.

anyway, I guess I don't really have a point here? this isn't so much an informational post as it is Me Getting Weird About Colors, but I think it is a useful lesson about how colors look very different on screens compared to how they look on objects in real life.

and sometimes, I think it's okay to compensate for that.

out of all of these, this is my favorite bi flag:

it's the one where the colors were blended in lab color space. for me, the lighter, softer purple is close enough to the original bi flag purple, while also feeling like a smoother blend of the blue and pink

but that's just me! and it might not even look the same to you, since every screen is different, because technology is a nightmare!

anyway, thank you for coming with me on this colorful journey! I will now retreat back to inkscape and make pained sounds about inkstitch gradients until something tangible pulls me back into reality

#bi #bisexual #bisexuality #bi flag #bisexual flag #sbs rambles #graphic design is my passion #id in alt text #but #the ids are probably deeply unhelpful for the different variations of flags #in the alt text of the six flags all grouped together #I just put what method the purples were blended with #and then tried to describe them more in the paragraph below #but this is an inherently visual post #so if you're reading it with a screen reader I am sorry :(

[galedekarios]

thinking about how gale's love language is acts of service.

people have talked at length about how he cooks for everyone at camp.

"the hand that feeds is the hand that's loved. it'll never leave your side now."

but that's not all of it, and it's a red thread that weaves itself through almost all his interactions throughout the game.

"magic is... my life. i've been in touch with the weave for as long as I can remember. would you like to experience this?"

gale shows the protag his world, his life, trying to connect them to the weave as he had once been, when he was still a chosen, still an archmage. it's not quite the same, it doesn't come quite as easy. still.

"i'm so very glad you came. to share this with me. i know this is all unreal, but i created it for you. you must know that you're... that you're very special to me. if things were different, if we were home, i'd have taken time to do things properly. to say it all better. but time is short. i'm in love with you."

gale knew he was living on borrowed, he knew it would run out eventually, even well before elminster came to deliver mystra's instructions.

he can't give the protag something different and they aren't home and they're not going to go home at the end of this. he knows this. time that once seemed so infinite when he was young is now whittled down to a single last night.

a last night that he uses to turn a dark and cursed land into a beautiful forest, northern lights dancing across a starry sky. he can't go home, he can't take the protag home, but he can give them an illusion of the centre of his universe, with all the well-loved things in it. there's no pretention here. books strewn across the floor, across the desk. sculptures, paintings, music. a view of home. the smell of the sea breeze.

baring his heart as well his soul in the little time he still has left to use how he sees fit.

"let me show you more. when you wake, it will be back in our small, dirty, bloody patch of existence. but stay with me now. there are endless worlds out there. countless ways to declare love. infinite ways to express it. too much for one night... but we shall try."

let me show you waterdeep, let me show you my home, my universe. let me show you how it would have been, could have been, if i did have time. let me show you more. let me show you how much i love you in the one night we may have left together.

let me give my soul to you, in confidence.

"i'd actually been thinking of introducing the two of you anyway. over a sumptuous home-cooked meal, if that sounds at all to your taste? i make it to my mother's recipe."

he wants to give the protag a chance to get to know tara, the one constant in his life, the one who became his only friend, his safe haven in the storm, the one that bore witness to his greatest triumphs and most abject failures. he wants to cook for them. he wants to take them home so very badly—

and yet he knows he won't make the date.

"then have me, but have the best possible version of me. [...] think of what i offer: the vastness of eternity to explore, the weave at our fingertips... you would really prefer me as i am?"

he could be more for the protag, if they wish him to be. could be more, could be better.

without all the flaws, without all the things that make gale only who he is. the things that sometimes simply aren't enough. he could be everything that plain old gale dekarios, that even the wizarding prodigy gale of waterdeep, could never be.

#thinking many thoughts #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #gale x tav #tav x gale #otp: a soul that steels my own #ch: gale dekarios #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #meta: mybg3

[aajjks]

I love you (m)

synopsis. He is so in love with you and it’s about time he let you know that.

warning. FLÜFF, lövèsïck töjï, hè ïs sö ïn lövê wïth yöü, kïssïng, än ädöräblê cönfêssïön, cöök!töji, FLÜFF FLÜFF FLÜFF! Söft!töjï. Böyfrǐěnd!töjï.

Toji is really learning to appreciate the little things whenever he’s with you.

No, you’re just so sweet and kind, even to someone like him, he’s definitely problematic and complicated, but you still keep up with him despite everything? Why? He wants to ask you but he never has enough courage to.

Funny right? That a shameless man like him feels too shy to ask his girlfriend a question that’s so simple and easy? You make him a different Man.

How? He’s always a smiling man whenever you’re around and he almost cries when he sees you crying over a sad movie that you two watch together sometimes. Or the fact that he wants to spoil you like you’re his everything, every penny he earns? He wants to give it you.

When he’s passing by a mall- he’s got this urge to go inside and buy you a nice present or some makeup supplies because he knows how much you love it.

You’re his princess and he’s your protector because the murderous urges he gets whenever you two are out and he sees multiple creeps staring at you like you’re some kind of a wonder-

Which you are, but only for Toji to look at and smile.

He’s definitely overly posessive and protective about you, you’ve been dating for what? Six or seven months but he already feels himself falling for you deeper and deeper for you.

So tonight, he’s finally going to say it- he knows that you want to hear him say it so badly, whenever a character on screen says ‘I love you’ to their female lead, your eyes are on him every time.

He’s waiting for you to come to his house, he did message you to meet at him at his place, you should be here soon- he’s eagerly waiting for you because he wants to surprise you.

Yeah, he doesn’t cook often at all? It’s all you, who’s always feeding your big guy with delicious meals and frankly he’s addicted to your cooking.

You’re giving his mama tough competition.

Toji did everything right, he’s kind of a perfectionist, especially when it comes to impressing you, everything has to be perfect.

The scented candles he got for this occasion are the perfect scent because they are exactly the ones you like, he noticed them in your home.

And the flowers are also your favorite, tulips. They’re your lock screen too that’s how obsessed you are with them, he can’t help but notice the littlest things about you.

It’s almost creepy.

And the food- oh he’s so proud of himself for cooking it- he was at it since the early morning honestly, but he’s not going to tell you about that.

In short, you’re going to love everything tonight.

Toji doesn’t flinch when he hears the door unlocking, his heartbeat flutters however, when he realizes that you’re here.

“Yn, princess you’re here.” He whispers as your scent immediately goes to his nostrils, and he inhales the sweet smell.

“Yeah, baby I missed you.” You walk over to him and he’s in the dining hall right past his living room, and when you’re back hug him, he feels his heart melting because you’re shorter compared to him and he’s big muscular and tall, you barely reach his shoulders- so instead, you wrap your arms around his muscular arms.

And then, when you finally notice something you gasp.

Toji smirks.

“Toji… don’t tell me you did all of this for me.” How do you have the most adorable voice in the whole universe? “Yes I did, honey.” Don’t blame him because you’re too adorable, and he has a habit of calling you every single nickname in the relationship book.

“Now come on and sit on the dining table, I bet you’re hungry.” He smiles, turning his back so he can look at your face.

And God knows you have the most beautiful face.

God definitely took time creating you- and he’s so glad.

With the most minimal make up on your face and with your hair down, he loves it when your hair is down, you pay so much attention to his likes and dislikes that just makes him love you even more.

Yes, he loves you and he’s going to tell you that officially tonight.

“Mhmm it smells so good and I noticed you got tulips and my favorite scented candles lit up.. your house always smells amazing.” You press a kiss right behind his ear before he pulls out your chair for you.

See now normally he doesn’t do these romantic things. He doesn’t remember the last time he did this. so he feels a little awkward doing this, but it doesn’t feel weird.

“Sit.” He then goes to his kitchen to grab the dishes. Some of them are traditional Japanese dishes because that’s all he really knows how to cook but don’t worry he got your favorite too.

You clap like a little girl when he puts the delicious food on the table for you, and it just makes his heart clench in his chest because you’re so sweet.

Toji sits right beside you, and before you can grab your plate and take the food yourself, he beats you to it because he wants to do it for you.

“Ahh yn let me do it.”

You give him a look and he continues with his work, “now eat, my love.” And just like that you both begin eating. Your occasional moans from the taste of the food Definitely distract him because he choked on his food for a good three times.

“D-Do you need water? I’m sorry but the food is just so delicious…. Can’t help it.” You say, as you stare at the curry in front of you.

“N-No yn just continue eating I’m sorry” he laughs, before diving in once again.

like the sweet girl that you really are you ask him about his day, even though he didn’t leave for work today he took the day off.

And then you start telling him about your day, and he loves to listen to your little rants. Your eyes get wide, and you make the most adorable expressions.

Just like that an hour goes by and you’re still sitting at the dining table when he’s picking up the dirty dishes, and yes, he insisted for you to get up and help him because this is not for you to do.

And he’s so glad that you loved his food because you keep on praising him and stop it before he blushes. “Ugh…” after he comes back from the kitchen after putting the dirty dishes in his dishwasher, toji takes your hand and guides you to the couch in the living room.

“Yn I have to tell you something.” And he’s nervous all over again. You look at him all look confused, “what is it babe?” There is honestly nothing for you to be concerned about so he should just say it before you get worried.

“Yn… I..I..” he’s stutters like the helpless man he is. You don’t speak you just not and look at him with love. And that gives him a little bit of motivation.

Come on, just say it, Toji!

before he can chicken out, you grab his hand and squeeze it, you know him so well, he inhales before taking a few seconds to compose himself and he looks into your eyes.

“I..I love you yn.” And now his heart feels so light, Toji doesn’t care if you’re not going to say it back, it’s okay, he’s a mature man- he can wait.

no please just say it back yn!

He is not looking at you anymore because as soon as the words leave his mouth, he tries to avert his eyes from you but you grab his face and now you’re making him look at you.

He’s sure you can feel the freshly shaved skin of his chin, you like the feeling a lot. Toji is silent, “I-It’s okay yn you don’t have-” but before he can complete his sentence, you kiss him.

And he cannot help but be surprised because he’s always the one that kisses you first, you’ve taken a lead this time and he’s amazed.

He kisses you back eagerly and you’re still grabbing his face so he settles his hands on your shoulders, and you both have the most romantic and passionate kiss ever.

He doesn’t want you to pull away, but to his dismay, you pull away after a few minutes, he just wants to bask in the feeling of your lips on his, you can never get enough of kissing you.

Before he can whine about the lack of contact, you push your head against his. You’re breathing loudly, he is panting, it is safe to say you left him speechless, and breathless.

“I always wanted to hear you say it and… I love you too.. I love you so much, Toji.”

He doesn’t believe the words that come out of your mouth because what the fuck. Toji’s can’t help but stare at you with his wide eyes. “Y-Yn do you really mean it? I..I.”

Once again, he’s speechless.

You smile at him before caressing his cheek.

“Of course silly. I just wanted you to say it first.” You give him a small kiss once more and he closes his eyes, thinking to himself that he’s so lucky man alive and he’s never going to let you go.

He won’t give you a chance to because he’ll make you so happy.

#jjk smut #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #toji smut #yandere toji #toji fushiguro #toji fushigro x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #yandere au #smut #yandere x reader #jjk x yn #toji x you #toji x yn #toji x reader #toji fluff #jjk toji #yandere x you #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut

[ioniansunsets]

✖ Hwei Painting Reader ✖

✖ Hwei Painting Reader ✖

✖ Word Count: 1.5k

✖ Tags: Established R/S

✖ A/N: I've seen all the voicelines and read his content we ARE HWEI LUKAI SIMPS NOW LETS GO BABES!!!!!!!! I still can't believe this took 3 days to write because I kept re-reading and re-writing things to try to make it less OOC.

I also super kin him as a college student in an arts school. Yes my love, lets stay up to 11am rushing an uninspired assignment together surviving off coffee and instant noodles. Oh no am I triggering a school au thought for Hwei.....maybe......

Oh more art student thoughts, I headcanon his paintings to be like Henri Matisse! He is a Fauvist! I know for a fact !This man will use every single color that exists to paint his world just as he imagines it, who cares what his teachers say! That green stripe on his lover's forehead is meant to be there! Fuck the critics!

----

You had been sitting here for an hour by now, Hwei telling you how badly he wanted to- No. Needed to capture your beauty in the orange hues of the setting sun.

How inspired he was seeing you walk past the window in his studio as you two returned from a walk. The way the light glows as it hit your hair, how your body silhouetted against the glass, the way the shadows cast on the floor just was so perfect in framing sanctity of the moment.

Slowly Hwei walks over, hands soft as they feel your face. Gently, the tips of his fingers trail down from your eyes to your cheeks and finally stopping at your lips. His three favorite parts of your face, all so important in showing him your emotions.  An almost lamentable smile crossing his face as he looks down and walks back to the canvas situated slightly further away. You could usually understand him but, sometimes you wish you could understand what darkness held him back.

" I'm always blessed to have such a masterpiece like you love me. How such beauty flourishes besides my despair."

Hwei pauses, thinking of the right words. His hand rising to rest on his chin as he looks around, everywhere but you.

" It eludes me. Yet, it fills me with such honor at the same time."

Hwei speaks to you soft, voice trailing off as he thinks, slowly nodding. The lightest of pink undertones suddenly rising to his cheeks as he thinks again about what he just said.

Oh how he so dearly appreciates your bright existence in his life. Eyes not daring to meet your own for his heart is already threatening to explode just from that brief touch earlier. Emotions were always such an important part of art, he cherishes how you inspire him this way, just seeing your beauty in the world fills him with image after image to paint and bring to life.

You however, notice anyway, his feelings that he tries to hide away from you. The way the colors in his eyes change, another telltale sign of the way you affect him. Your own cheeks now dusted with the same soft pink on his.

You smile, sitting still on the window sill, a soft glow from the setting sun illuminating you from behind as you watch your lover paint. A sight that never stops amazing you, the way his magic throws colors onto the canvas, mixing together to create such visually stunning images, you were so sure those purples and greens don't exist in shadows yet somehow you know he would make it look like the rainbows were there all along.

" You know I only shine this bright because you care for me so, Hwei."

" Ah... Don't flatter me this way, your beauty is your own. I can never make something that really captures your brilliance on a canvas like this. But alas, I believe I have the skills to at least capture my emotions for you down in this one."

You watch on, another hour had passed. The sun had long set, instead, the moonlight and soft glow of the lamp overhead lights up your partner's features as the corners of his lips curl up into a smile. Unable to hold back his excitement as the empty canvas slowly fills up with color and form. His hands gracefully gliding across the scene, you watch how his clothes move around him, how the shadows move on his exposed collar as his arm raises to work. His hair bouncing behind him as he paces around, making sure he views you from every angle, catching all the important details to this moment. His eyes darting back and forth from your form to his canvas. After a while, the finishing touches finally placed, he steps back and gives a relieved sigh. He was usually so hard on himself to create perfection, but when it comes to a portraiture of you, he can't help but agree he made a masterpiece. You were stunning, so anything made in your image was stunning to him too.

" Take a look."

Hwei walks to your side, hand out for support as you held onto it and hopped off the windowsill. He guides you to the canvas, hand gently resting on the dip of your lower back. Eventually he moves to stand behind you, resting his head on your shoulder, arms now around you in a hug from behind. You can feel his anxiety, the silence in the air heavy as you carefully consider his work, a slight tremble in his grip around your waist. Of course, you only have good things to say about it, he's an art prodigy if you've ever seen one. Avant Garde work but undeniably breathtaking. As you finally look at the completed work in front of you, you were pleasantly surprised to see how once again, he left your breathless with just how he sees you.

" I can't lie Hwei, this is amazing. Everything you make is amazing to me I could never wield colors the way you do. To think that this was how you saw me."

As you speak you can feel him heat up against your back, his head slowly tilting down as he hides his face into the crook of your neck. His art of you was just one of the small ways he tries to show you his love.

" Thank you."

He whispers softly into your skin. You giggle softly, reaching up to rest your hand against his. After placing a soft kiss on the corner where your clothes meet your skin, he pulls away to stand in front of you, eyes finally meeting yours as you catch sight of gold flecks floating across his irises. He was so visibly happy to just be here, to see you happy with his work. Hwei takes a deep breath. Calming himself as he looks at you, taking in the sight of you in front of him, you can tell how his thoughts were flooding him as the two of you stood there in comfortable silence before he finally speaks.

" My dear, you bring out the light in me no matter how much it dims.

How you seem to quell that darkness is beyond me. I see so many colors when I'm with you...

The reds of your passionate love, the soft yellow of your happiness when were together, the lingering orange of comfort that you have around me all the time. And that is not even touching the blues and purples when you watch me work with amazement."

Hwei reaches out to you, one hand caressing your cheek while the other reaches around your waist to pull you in. You laugh, watching how his eyes swirl, reds fading into yellows briefly before oranges transform before your eyes into cool blues and purples as he describes you, his usually melancholic smile warping into a warm bright one.

Your heart begins to race, something about how the shadows on his face visibly lighten with his smile, paired with the excitement bubbling out of him as he exposes his precious thoughts to you. How you wish you had a way to capture this moment just as he did by painting you.

He leans forward slowly, resting his forehead against yours as his gaze casts downwards, watching your lips, taking in the curve, the way it moves as they part to breathe. He was just so taken in by you.

" May I kiss you?"

He asks, barely a whisper, somehow still seemingly uncertain in this partnership that you two have had for so long. His gaze slowly moving back up to your eyes as he awaits your answer.

" I am forever baffled by how you always ask first. You know I'd always welcome your love."

You offer him a soft chuckle, the sparkle in your eyes further reassuring him of your sentiments.

You could never say no to his sweet affections, he was always so careful with you, so gentle, so soft. You were but the most precious thing in his life after all, a blindingly bright beacon of hope in his darkest hours. A stunning jewel of ever changing colors in the light of his mundane existence. If the painting that sits at arms length from you is a testament to anything, you knew he was oh so in love with you.

Hwei lets out a small laugh of his own.

" I just like the reassuring comfort of your answer."

As he finishes his sentence, he leans forward, closing that tiny gap between your lips. You smile into the kiss, you can't help it, the feeling of his dry, chapped lips against yours was so endearing. You note to remind him to hydrate later, almost forgetting how he just spent two hours non-stop painting you with fervent passion.

As he pulls away, Hwei holds you closer to him, pressing your body against his in a tight hug. A satisfied sigh escaping him.

" I love you."

" I love you too."

#IonianSunsets #Hwei Lukai #Lukai Hwei #I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM #lets love him together xoxo #Hwei x Reader #Hwei League of Legends #SCENARIOS #so soft so soft i love him #Hwei LoL #Hwei League #I WILL GO BACK TO ANSWERING ASKS #just needed to get the brainrot out #give thsi sweet little man a little kith #i couldnt sleep and had to get up and write this its 11am now LMFAO im so hungry #same hwei i kin u teehee #Hwei

[inklore]

Tell me a bed time story about the things javi g would be into 😩😩 need that man like I need air

it’s 2am so i apologize for my incoherent typing and thoughts ok, that is a warning!!

sorry to the girlies who are dying on the hill of ‘he’s a sub’, i strongly strongly disagree. and i’m not just saying this because he’s my fav ok, i’m saying this because it’s true. i could write a three part essay on it but: he is not strictly a sub. switch? absolutely.

now with the above stated let’s get into the nitty gritty here, i have two words: high sex. high. sex.

this man will get you stoned out of your mind and spend the next two hours going down on you until you’re pulling at his curls, over sensitive and needing more. he’ll happily oblige of course, crawling up your body and pushing into you in one fluid motion. thrusts slow and languid. mouth all over your neck, jawline, collarbones. it’d feel like he’s been fucking you for hours with how much sweat has accumulated on your bodies, the summer breeze from the open windows your only cool relief.

roleplay. like come on he loves movies, cinema! he loves creating! scripting. like expect the two of you to act out the most intense scene of build up and then fucking on the nearest surface CONSTANTLY.

he’s a giver, but in a greedy way. meaning that if you asked him to do something, try something new (choking, spanking, whatever you desire) he’s going to do it. and he’s going to do it right to the point of him bringing you to the brink from it and then stopping just when you’re about to topple over just so he can hear the deliriously beautiful moans and mewls you make into his mouth.

fucking in the pool? of course. on the balcony in the early morning sun? clearly. bending you over the dining room table because you kept making eyes at him while he was trying to eat? accurate for both breakfast, lunch, and dinner. coming on the boat? tricky but he loves a challenge. on the trail? by the beach? he wants you everywhere!

he’s a begger. sometimes in a whiney way if he’s had a long frustrating day. but mostly in a ‘i need you to give me all of you because you have all of me’ way. the way that has him saying things like “just give me one more, one more and i’ll give you what you need” + “thought about making you come all day, can you come for me, please” + “say you want it, tell me, tell me how badly you want it”.

cock warming and blowjobs during movies are a guilty pleasure of his, for sure.

remember that scene in the movie where he got like super angry? yeah, you cannot convince me that the makeup sex, and or ‘angry sex’ with him would not be absolutely divine. because you know afterward he’s going to press the softest kisses into your shoulder, he’s going to make sure he didn’t hurt you. but the love marks on your neck definitely do something for him.

#javi is my everything ok i know him #javi gutierrez x reader #javi gutierrez smut #javi gutierrez #javi gutierrez x you #javi gutierrez headcanons #▸ laur answers #/ sil my soulmate #thots !

[eddiesghxst]

ALL I WANTED

part one | part two | part three

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x rockstar!reader

summary: your band, Daughters of Vampira, and Corroded Coffin hate each other and are struggling to keep a clean image in the media; so, in an attempt to solve the issue, your managers try to come up with a solution.

contains: enemies to lovers trope, alcohol consumption, smoking, cheating (reader is cheated on by her fiancé), themes of misogyny/sexism, and eddie being a dick <3

word count: 12.9k

| Daughters of Vampira setlist | Corroded Coffin setlist |

-story masterlist- | -main masterlist-

You were a musician. A rockstar. On your way to being one of the greats. Your band, Daughters of Vampira, was a small, feminist rock band out of Hawkins, Indiana. You created this band with your friends, Robin, Nancy, and Max, an outlet the four of you used to sing and write your little hearts out. You hit it big when you all moved to Los Angeles, playing at some lame bar when a producer walked up to you after the show, saying she wanted to see more, handing you a business card. 

Then boom. 

Everything was up from there. You got signed onto a record deal– played shows, signed autographs, walked carpets, and did interviews. Your wallet was a bottomless pit. En route to being wed, you got engaged to your production assistant turned bassist, and all was well— until about five minutes ago.

You came home from a day at the studio with your band, crafting a new song, playing with guitar riffs, and imagining lyrics. This track was going to be big; a song about your love for your fiance, a tale of how magnetic and beautiful every second was and will be.

You unlocked the door to your shared apartment, kicking off your sneakers, when you noticed a pair of red heels, which is weird because you hate heels. Maybe they were your friend Angie’s shoes; she knows where you hide your spare key and sometimes sneaks in when you’re not home. Furrowing a brow, you cautiously set your bag and keys down, looking around you for any more clues— her bag or her keys, anything. Your socked feet softly pad across your cold, wooden floors as you walk into the apartment's threshold, glancing into the kitchen. Nothing. You turned to the living room, unknowingly holding your breath—still nothing. Suspicion itches in your mind as you take in the space around you. You turn the corner to your bedroom and see the door left ajar. 

You almost think nothing of it; you wouldn’t be mad at Angie taking a nap in your room; she’s your childhood best friend, but then you hear it— the two voices. The first voice is your fiance, Scott, and the second is an unknown woman.

They’re laughing. They’re whispering about something you can’t hear either because they’re either speaking too quietly or your sudden rage is filling out the space in your ears; you’re not sure which it is. You quickly glance back towards the door, eyeing the heels for the second time— your heart drops.

It was Angie. Those were her heels; you helped her pick them out, for fucks sake. You storm up to the door and swing it open without a second thought, and your eyes widen at the sight before you. You had so badly wished your mind was playing some sick trick on you, and you were just hearing things. You were wrong.

Your fiance and childhood best friend, Angie, are sprawled out in your white-sheeted bed, heads laid on your pillows tousled, under your roof— and both incredibly naked. 

Despite the anger, your eyes quickly fill with tears, salty pools of resentment and betrayal threatening to spill over. Scott sees you in the doorway and scrambles out of bed, hastily grabbing a pair of boxers to pull over his bare hips. You can hear him sputtering out excuses, apologies, and reasons through the fog— so many words that sound like nothing but white noise to you. 

He stumbles his way over to you, hands reaching out to grasp you and raising in surrender when you yank away from him. You can hardly think; a cloudy moment where you feel as if the floor has been wiped from below you and you’re free-falling in some shitty excuse of a dream. 

“Sweetheart, please just listen–” He didn’t get to finish his sentence; the palm of your hand cracked down against his cheek to stop whatever bullshit excuse was coming. Angie shrieked, jumping out of bed, still with no clothes on, as she hurried to his side, an obvious two-against-one— that’s clarified when she shoots you a pointed look, fire building up in her eyes— and you can’t believe the audacity. 

Scott looks back at you, cheek red with the sting of your rage as he points a finger at you, “Don’t you dare fucking touch her,” he scolds as if you were a child, warning you to leave the cookie jar alone. You scoff, your mouth falling agape as you laugh humorlessly. “Me? Touch her?” You point to the naked girl. Your neck heats in fury as you shake your head, “That is rich, Scott.” 

You step back, eyeing both of them and ignoring the lump in your throat as you speak, “So, how long has this been going on?” They stare at you like they’re fucking clueless, and it ticks you off to no end, “In my own fucking bed? With my best friend?” Your tears are hot as they begin streaming down your cheeks, and the harsh swipe of your wrist to wipe them away stings, but you refuse to let them see you cry. Your mind is cluttered with questions, but they come out like bullets, firing round after round. 

Angie takes to answering you, saying your name to halt your questions, “We– we’re in love, and… and he doesn’t..” She looks to Scott for guidance, her eyes pleading for him to help her. Your fingers shake in anger.

“I want to call the wedding off,” Scott says, looking you in the eyes while he and your best friend link fingers. They look fucking stupid, standing there naked and feigning unity– you almost want to laugh. You scoff again, folding your arms over your chest like that would hide your pain from them, despite the evident ghost of tears still clinging to your skin. 

You glance around the room, around at the life you had planned for yourself, for him. Pictures of your engagement day, the closet you two shared, the fucking bed you shared, the life the two of you shared. More tears fall, and you don’t bother brushing them away this time. You nod, defeated.  “Yeah, that’s– yeah, we can… we can do that.” You wipe at your tears, fingers shaking with agony as you swallow the words. 

Your ex-fiance reaches out for your arm, and you back away, like he’s contagious– like his touch carries the heat of the sun. “Don’t touch me,” you snarled, watery gaze boring into his brown eyes. 

“The wedding’s off, so… Take your shit and,” you look at your childhood best friend— your ex-childhood best friend, and your heart aches. This fucking hurts. Your teeth dig into your lower lip as you dismissively wave your hand towards the clothes strewn across the floor, “And take her shit and get the fuck out.” You turn to leave but stop when Scott speaks, “I can’t just do that; I–” He stutters at the stab of your glare, “I need to call a truck so I can carry everything.” 

You laugh, tilting your head, “Nah, don’t worry, I can help you with that.”

You pace to your apartment window, swinging it open and ignoring the confused voices behind you when you start picking up various items. Scott’s eyes widen as he watches you storm over to the window, a heap of his things in your arms. He scrambles to you, yelling as you toss his stuff out the window. He’s looking out the window, watching them fall, “Get. The. Fuck. Out.” You shriek after every item you throw: his computer, acoustic guitar, books on Logistics, and How To Save Money Like A Businessman. 

You flutter about the room, shaking Angie off when she tries to grab you, ignoring her when she falls to the floor in a heap of naked limbs. You pick up a pricey statue that was Scott’s, ignoring his protests, courteously tossing it out the window to join his items. 

You storm out of the room, glancing around for any of Scott’s stuff. Yes, this was your apartment, but you were working on sharing it— sharing it with him. Your fiance. Ex-fiance. You skirt out to the living room, the two lovebirds hot on your tail and begging you to stop. You walk over to the balcony doors, pushing them open and ignoring the sound of the doors cracking against the wall, some picture frames falling to the floor. 

Pictures of you and him. 

You pick them up and toss them over the balcony, looking around for any other fallen pieces. You thoroughly sweep your apartment— as thoroughly as you can through your tears of rage, gathering jackets, shirts, and shoes and carelessly tossing them over the balcony. You ignore them as they hastily put on their clothes, brushing past them to pace to the door.

Your gaze is hot and heavy on Angie’s heels. Those shiny, blood-red, smooth pumps. They oozed sex appeal and smirked at you, asking, daring, challenging you. Angie scrambles to you, yelling for you to put them down, yelling that they were Jimmy Choos, that they were expensive— like you would care. 

You shrug her off as you walk back to the balcony, hanging them over the ledge and turning to gaze at her as she watches with tears brimming. Pathetic. You look into her eyes and drop them— one by one, “Fetch,” you whisper hoarsely.

Angie begins to cry, turning and running to Scott, who points an accusatory finger at you, “You’re a fucking crazy bitch. You couldn’t just end things like a civilized human fucking being?” He exclaims, “You are fucking insane!” He grits out, holding Angie by the waist. “I’ll be back tomorrow, and you better have my shit,” he says scathingly.

When they both have an appropriate amount of clothes on— Angie settling for one of his oversized shirts and panties, him with sweats— Scott hastily searches for his keys. You watch them both, numb and unmoving, and it feels like your body is vibrating in a storm of emotions. Scott finds his keys and wallet, yanking Angie by the hand and hauling her out the door, but not before he shoots you a glare— a look that tells you it’s over. Completely done with no room for redemption— you don’t care either way.

The door slams shut, and silence fills the space. You stand there for what seems like eons, basking in the fizzling heat of your emotions before shuffling towards your bag near the door and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. You search for your lighter, growing irritated when it seems to be missing. You toss your bag to the floor with a curse and walk to the gas stove, turning the knob until a rim of flames arises. You slip the cigarette between your snot-slick lips, ducking your head towards the stove top and watching the cancerous stick catch fire. 

You stand upright, inhaling and puffing out the smoke. You grab your flip phone, shuffling towards the balcony for fresh air while you make a call, but to your dismay, a crowd is gathered below your building, watching and taking pictures. At closer glance, you realize these people are none other than paparazzi— the very bane of your existence. They’re already recording; you can hear them chattering about what they suspect is happening, making up stories for the cameras and soon-to-come tabloids. 

Then, to make matters worse, Scott and Angie skirt out from the building entrance and start picking some items up, the paparazzi asking various intruding questions. Scott has enough grace and respect for you to deny a comment, opting for catching a taxi with Angie instead. With a roll of your eyes, you walk back into your apartment and busy yourself doing a shitty job clearing the mess you’d made. However, like clockwork, your phone rings.

You know it’s Miss Sinclair; well, Erica, as she always corrects you. Your music manager, a firecracker, that one, but overall a good friend on your side. 

You answer, taking a drag from the cigarette as you step onto your terrace again, breathing out a cloud of smoke. “What?” You ask snappily into the phone, glancing down at the crowd of people taking pictures of you. Assholes.

”What? What do you mean, what?” Erica hisses through the speaker. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Tiger?” A nickname she has for you that originated from God knows where. “Yeah, like… what’s up?” You play dumb, smiling sarcastically and waving innocently to the cameras below you.

“Why the hell do I have people blowing my line asking me why you’re tossing shit onto the streets of Los Angeles like it’s a goddamn Goodwill?” She impatiently asks.

You shrug, even though she can’t see you, “Dunno. See you tomorrow at the studio.” You pull the phone away from your ear, hearing her shriek and yell at you, commanding you not to hang up. You slap the flip phone closed, ending the call; her words cut off. You take another drag of the cigarette before flicking the bud off the balcony at the intruders, watching them back away to glare at you, yelling a few curses. You flip them two middle fingers in response before turning to walk back into your apartment, closing the doors behind you. 

You’re going to write a song. A kickass song.

“And then I threw all his shit out the fucking window,” you chuckle, retelling the story to your drinking companion, Robin Buckley, the drummer of your band. She smirks and downs another shot of vodka, “Yeah.. you uh,” she grimaces and smacks her lips at the bitter drink, “you created quite the stir earlier today,” She points at you and winks, picking up her forgotten glass of whiskey beside her and holding it out to you, in cheers. 

You sigh and smile, and inevitably you clink your whiskey-filled glass against hers as she says, “To shitty men and new beginnings— preferably with women,” she winks again, laughing along with you as you lighten up from her joke. You down the rest of your drink and put your glass down, sucking your teeth before rolling your lips inward as you stare thoughtlessly, the whiskey leaving burning kisses in your throat. 

The loud, underground celebrity-only bar drowns out behind you. What were you going to do? You had so much planned with Scott, an entire fucking wedding, a home, maybe even kids. And as if that’s not enough, you wrote an entire song about him. You were almost finished with it, so close to recording it and putting it out, maybe with tour dates to match. 

Now it's gone. Dead and buried. 

A whole song, written in 4 weeks, about your love, the love of your life, your supposed forever person, and he threw it all away. You knew love wasn’t easy. It never was, especially not after your rise to fame. It was hard to find time for date nights, for sex, for just seeing each other and talking. But you would’ve never imagined this to be how it ended.

You can’t help but feel as though this might have been your fault. Some small, pessimistic, mean part of you nagging that you could’ve prevented this if you had just changed. You tried to make time for Scott, you really did, but you got caught up in the music— the music for him. You worked tirelessly at it. For Scott to hear this song and immediately know it’s about him. You wanted it to be a wedding gift, maybe, to play it at your wedding for everyone to hear your love. You had never been so soft in a song, so open and disgustingly lovesick, and you wasted it all on him. Maybe it was your fault; perhaps it was for the better—

“Hey, you okay?” Robin cuts through your thoughts, “You went a little quiet there,” she smiles softly, playfully nudging her shoulder against yours. “Yeah,” you nod, “I-I’m good. Great.” You nod along with your words, trying fiercely to believe them.

You were not good, nor were you great. You were, to put it nicely, fucking wrecked. You were humiliated. How could anyone be okay after something like this? It was bad enough he cheated in the first place but with your best friend? You lost two of your closest people within the blink of an eye. It hurts more that they got each other while you got nothing but ghosts and memories. Scott was there for everything, your first real concert, the after-parties, the carpets. He was there for all of it. And he won’t be there anymore, and that hurts.

You shrug, laughing nervously and rubbing the bridge of your nose in distress, “I just can’t help but think that— that maybe this–” You motion your hands uselessly. Robin quickly interrupts you before you can finish your thought, “No. Do not go there. Are you insane? This,” she motions lazily over your figure, copying you, “was not your fault.” She shakes her head, sincerity laced within her voice and gaze. “Believe me when I say that— I would tell you if you were a crazy bitch, trust.” She smiles and nudges you again with her shoulder, pulling a laugh from you. 

You sigh, rotating your neck to stretch it out, rolling your shoulders, “So, like, what’s up with you?” You ask to lighten the mood, leaning on the bar counter with your elbows. It works because she laughs and nods, looking down at the glasses of whiskey as the bartender wordlessly fills them back up. She traces her finger around the rim of it, still nodding, “I-I’ve been good, you know,” she glances at you and shyly looks away when you begin to smirk, “Just sorta.. Hangin’ out, I guess. Shootin’ the shit,” she shrugs, and you laugh. “Yeah, so when did you guys hook up?” You say over your glass rim innocently, laughing even harder when the girl turns red in the face and sputters over her drink. 

“We did not hook up!” She exclaims, wiping the drink from her lips. “Me and Nance,” she shakes her head, “we just… We, like, hung out, you know?” She shrugged. You mockingly raise an eyebrow as she keeps talking, “And like smoked a bit and maybe drank and then like, there was a movie involved, and then she kissed me and—” You interrupt her rambling with a wave of your hand, “Alright, no more details. You totally hooked up,” you laugh, and she blushes harder, laughing and shaking her head, “Definitely did not.” she scoffs.

“You definitely did.” You challenge.

“Did not.” She shoots back.

“Did.”

She groans and shakes you, “If I pay for your tab, will you shut up?” she offers. You pretend to think dramatically for a moment before giving in and nodding, laughing when she slams a one hundred dollar bill on the counter and gets up, picking her leather jacket from behind her chair. “God, you are so annoying,” she complains, shucking her coat over her Daughters of Vampira band t-shirt. 

You get up, shrugging your leather jacket on and snickering, “Nah, you love me,” you teasingly say, shoving at her shoulder. She smirks and shakes her head, heading for the exit, “Yeah, you wish,” She pushes the door open and steps outside into the chilly Los Angeles night, immediately shoving her hands into her pockets. 

You opt for taking the damaged, smashed pack of cigarettes out of your pocket and pulling a matching lighter out. The lighter has a siren with long, blonde locks and a green, shimmery mermaid tail. You pull out a cigarette and stick it between your lips, igniting the flame and holding it up to the end of the cigarette. You bask in the warmth emanating from the flame, a soft heat kissing your nose. You pull the lighter away and puff, blowing the tobacco back out.

“Man, all I wanted was a peaceful drink, and I got verbally berated instead,” Robin jokes.  You laugh, blowing smoke in her face before stopping, looking ahead. You freeze, and not because of the air; the cogs in your brain start moving, fired up with the fuel of alcohol and the lightheaded buzz of nicotine. You still your movements, looking at your friend, “What did you say?” you ask slowly, pulling your gaze from the busy car-filled street. 

Her face heats up, eyes widening and hands flying from her pockets to raise in defense, “No, I mean, like— I was kidding. I wasn’t being serious—” you interrupt her by waving your hand hastily that was holding a cigarette, before looking at it and tossing it carelessly to the side. You aimlessly shake your hands at her, “No, what did you just say?” You stare into her eyes, watching as she tries to connect the dots. 

She raises her eyebrows in confusion, shrugging before saying slowly, “All I wanted—” You stop her, snapping and pointing, walking away and walking back, obviously pacing. “Yes! Yes— that. It’s perfect.” You stop pacing for a second, standing with your hands on your hips. Robin laughs nervously, fiddling with her zipper jacket, “Uh, what is happening right now? Am I in trouble?” she jokes anxiously, but you ignore her. 

You were thinking. Thinking hard. 

All I wanted. All you wanted? All I wanted. 

You repeat it to her, mumbling the words, gaze still focused on the ground, “All I wanted.” You say, pulling your eyes back up to hers. “Uh.. yeah– All I wanted…was a drink,” she parrots back, nodding dumbly, placating you like a small child doing a math equation. 

You smile mischievously, “Robin, you’re a fucking genius!” You all but shriek, earning some glances from the sidewalk. You pay no attention to them, but Robin does, grabbing your shoulder and pushing you into a walk, looking around her to not draw attention to the both of you, but it’s difficult when you’re wildly smiling and humming out a guitar tempo. 

“Dude, what are you talking about?” She stresses, “Please tell me what’s happening; I have no idea what is socially acceptable to say right now,” she explains nervously, hand moving to grasp at your elbow, keeping you in motion. “Robin, we have to go to the studio right now,” you beg, looking her in her eyes, your gaze shining in inspiration. “What? No, what? Why?” She steps in front of you and halts your walking, “What is happening?” she pleads, leaning forward and pressing her palms together in a praying motion— silently asking you to please elaborate. You move past her, still walking, still thinking. 

Robin jogs to catch up to you, “Tell me what you’re thinking, please,” she begs. You look at her and smirk, “I have an idea for a song,” you conclude. Upon hearing this, Robin smiles like the fucking Cheshire cat.

“Hit me, Tiger.”

Eddie can’t help but laugh when his friend tells him what happened. He pauses for a moment, staring at Scott and waiting for him to say it was just a joke, but he never does, and Eddie nearly dies of laughter, the rest of the band along with him.

“Holy shit,” Eddie gasps between laughter. Gareth snorts, raising his eyebrow in shock as he speaks, “She threw your shit out the window?” 

Scott rolls his eyes, flipping the brown-haired boy off, sipping his beer, and leaning back into the red leather couch. Eddie shakes his head as he swivels around in his chair to mess with the studio soundboard, “That’s what you get when you fuck crazy bitches, man,” Eddie laughs, glancing up to watch Jeff mess around with chords in the sound booth. He listens as he speaks, “I mean, sure, she was hot,” He shrugs, reaching over for his box of cigarettes, “Insane tits or whatever, but at what cost?” He snorts. 

Scott shrugs, downing the rest of his beer and tossing the bottle into the small trash bin near the soundboard. 

“I mean, the sex was definitely good, but she just— I dunno, man,” he shakes his head and dismissively waves his hand, “She’s too much of a firecracker. Angie is way more docile,” he concludes. He snickers as he thinks it over, “Easier to deal with,” he smirks, reaching down to the floor to pick up another beer. Gareth snickers and Eddie grimaces with a shake of his head; he then smirks as he slides a cigarette between his lips, “Nah, the firecrackers are the fun ones, man.” he speaks around the paper as he lights the cancerous stick, sucking and blowing out the smoke. “So, what now?” Gareth asks, taking a swig of his drink as he looks at Scott. 

Scott shrugs, opening the glass bottle of beer and sipping it, “Yeah, y’know… no wedding, I’m with Angie, whatever,” he says, and Eddie chuckles, glancing over his shoulder for a moment, “Yeah, I get it,” he nods, taking another drag off his cigarette, lost in his thoughts. You’re a crazy bitch, but you fuck so good… A lightbulb goes off in his head. 

“Wait, guys,” he swivels around in his chair to face Gareth and Scott. The two boys look up at him as Eddie speaks, “We’ve all had crazy girlfriends, right?” His gaze bounces between the boys as he puffs on the cigarette before standing up and pushing the bud of it into Gareth’s bottle, much to his dismay. He ignores Gareth’s complaints, ignoring the boys laughing at him, pacing the room, mind swirling to the sound of Jeff’s guitar. 

Through the fog of chords and lyrics, Eddie continues speaking, “All of our ex-girlfriends— and ex-fiances,” he blindly points to Scott as he paces, ignoring when Scott scoffs, “are crazy bitches,” he points out, looking back at the group. “I mean, I can’t remember the last time I had a normal fucking girlfriend,” he snickers. The boys look at Eddie as if they’re concerned, confusion written across their faces that Eddie could care less to ease, “This is fucking inspiration, boys! Let’s write this shit down,” He leans on the soundboard, “Let’s expose this chick,” He snickers.

He walks into the sound booth and grabs his guitar from the stand, pulling the strap over his neck as he nods toward Jeff, “Keep playing that,” he orders. Despite his masked confusion, Jeff continues to play the riff he’d been tweaking. Eddie steps up to the mic in the middle of the sound booth, reaching for the headphones to slip them over his head, leaving one ear uncovered. He gestures to Gareth through the glass, motioning for him to tag along.

Gareth puts his beer down and walks in, glancing at Eddie in confusion, “You gonna tell us what we’re playing or?” He sits behind his drums as Eddie tweaks the strings on his guitar. “Just follow along, man.” Eddie distractedly mumbles. Gareth and Jeff glance at one another— Eddie often has moments like this, and they have yet to get used to it. Gareth shrugs, picking up his deeply mangled drumsticks and tapping a beat to Jeff’s strings.

Eddie mumbles to himself, fingers ghosting chords over the frets as he nods his head to the beat. He picks up with Gareth and Jeff’s sound, shredding along to create a fuller sound, the images of the music he’d composed in his mind coming to life just below his fingertips. Scott watches from outside the sound booth, standing up to lean over the soundboard. He watches, intrigued, as they play together, wordlessly tweaking until they all compliment each other. Scott reaches over with a smirk and hits the record button just in time for Eddie to chime in on the mic, finally spitting out the lyrics they’d all be waiting to hear.

And it’s fucking good. 

“Alllriiight!”

It’s raunchy, unhinged, and all things dirty. On top of that, it’s a massive fuck you to Scott’s ex, and Scott can’t keep the grin off his face as he adds the bass to the track, snickering at the words Eddie sings. They work on the song all day, throwing in new verses and tweaks until they feel satisfied for the time being. They sit outside the sound booth and nurse a round of beers as they play the song, listening to what they have so far, grinning and nodding along to the beat, laughing at the absurdity of the lyrics.

“Hey, you’re a crazy bitch, but you fuck so good, I’m on top of it.”

“It’s good… as much as I hate to say it, it’s good.” Scott laughs, rolling his eyes when the boys cheer. Sitting on the swivel chair in front of the soundboard, Eddie reaches out and nudges Scott's foot with his own, “You might get a few slashed tires when she hears this, you know.” He snickers over the rim of his beer bottle.

Scott laughs and shrugs, “Can’t be any worse than what she’s already done.” He jokes. The boys all laugh, watching Jeff as he raises his beer in the gesture of a toast, “To crazy bitches.” The boys all raise their beers in unity, parroting back, “To crazy bitches!” They clink their drinks and laugh, taking sips.

“You’re crazy, but I like the way you fuck me.”

“Think of me when you’re out, when you’re out there,

I’ll beg you nice from my knees.

And when the world treats you way too fairly,

Well, it’s a shame, I’m a dream,”

Your voice filters through the speakers, thick studio headphones skewed on your head as you fiddle with the soundboard knobs and buttons. You sigh and push the headphones to rest around your neck, rubbing your hands tiredly over your face. You take a glance at the clock— 4:34 AM. Goddamn. You had truly been here all night. After your night out with Robin, drinking your feelings away, and your quick epiphany moment, you guys caught a taxi straight here and got to business. That was at 10:46 PM. 

Poor Robin, you put the girl through the wringer. Making her drum out new beats, forcing her to pluck out a bass riff to the best of her abilities. The rest of your band was, without a doubt, asleep, and you didn’t want to bother them with your antics. And, of course, you all were close, but it was just different with you and Robin. You guys could be together for hours and never tire of one another. You just clicked. 

Maybe it was also the fact that you didn’t want to face whatever awkward encounter was bound to happen between Robin and Nancy, opting to wait until the morning to see them face one another. Robin was fully asleep underneath the sound booth, using both of your jackets as a pillow. Her fingers are wrapped around the beer she’d been drinking; hand cuddled up to her face. You pull out your cigarettes from your pocket, pulling one stick out and sliding it between your lips. You light it up and puff on the cigarette, glancing at Robin beneath the table before reaching down and carefully snagging her beer. You take a quick swig, quietly listening to the song. 

“All I wanted was you,

All I wanted was you.”

The guitar that comes in right after is powerful. It’s beautiful; it showcases your anger, your betrayal, your heart that still aches. This was supposed to be a love song for Scott, but after tweaking a few lyrics, it quickly became a song laced with hatred and resentment— a piece of heartbreak and anguish you’re still clearly sorting through. But that’s all that love is, right? Just two people fighting and slashing at each other until one inevitably gives in and waves a white flag? 

You down the rest of your stolen beer, still taking drags of the cigarette and blowing it back out. It wasn’t unusual for you to be the only one here at ungodly hours of the night, but it was one of the first times you were here with your friend and bandmate. Knowing she was here for you after such a chaotic, hectic day, supporting you even at unreasonable hours, was nice.

You replay the lyrics repeatedly, playing with the weak bass Robin was barely able to play. You should go home; you know you should, given how late it is and the dryness that begins to seep through your eyes, but you hate the feeling that runs through your bones when you think about what used to be your and Scott’s home. You don’t want to go home. Home is where everything ended. Home is no longer home— not after what happened. Home is where you’ll go to relieve the day over and over again until you get tired enough to pass out. 

And then it hits you; lyrics, more heartache hits you. The song was initially titled The Only Exception, but the words changed after playing around for several hours. You stuff the cigarette bud in the beer bottle, letting it fizzle out as you get up from your swivel chair to try and find a notebook— a notepad, napkins, or something, but you only find a pen. Frustrated with your lack of writing materials, you look at your surroundings hungrily before your eyes land on Robin’s bare arm. 

You pace back to the soundboard and reach underneath to yank on Robin’s arm, waking her up for a split second. You ignore Robin’s grumbly and slurred “What the fuck?” and proceed with your task as she inevitably falls back asleep. You yank the pen cap off with your teeth and begin jotting down lyrics on Robin’s pale, freckled, tattooed arm. 

“I think I’ll pace my apartment a few times,

And fall asleep on the couch. 

Wake up early to black-and-white reruns,

That escape from my mouth.”

Scott and your favorite thing to do was watch old 1950s classic films. You guys watched them so much, watched so many of them, over and over again, that you could quote them to one another. Tears begin to well up in your eyes as you write these lyrics down, some falling on Robin’s arm and smudging the ink. You curse and press your palm to the running ink to dry whatever can be salvaged from your sloppy work. You drop her arm to the ground and hear her briefly groan as you pace back into the sound booth, picking up your black guitar from the stand and pulling the strap over your upper body. 

You move your headphones around your neck to sit over your ears, waiting for your next move. You start strumming out a guitar riff, basking in the glory of the echoing sounds and its full, tough ring. You push your lips to the microphone and begin mumbling, playing with more lyrics in your head before you sing.

“I could follow you to the beginning,

Just to relive the start.

And maybe then, we’d remember to slow down.

At all of our favorite parts.”

The tears are freefalling now; the dark eyeliner you’d spent the past hours smudging leaves roads of sorrow against your skin. You and Scott were together for seven magical months. Yeah, it was quick— pathetic in a different light, but you’d been mindlessly in love. And fuck, would it have been a mistake if you did end up marrying him. He was a production assistant and a bassist with no new lines of work coming, opting to freeload off his friend’s band, Corroded Coffin, playing with them at shows whenever they needed him. 

And it’s working for him so far— until it doesn’t. As much as you hate to admit, Scott is talented. He’s good with his instrument and has a good ear for sound, but despite his talent, he has no real drive— no actual want to succeed and be at the top of the music pyramid with you. As you continue to play with the guitar, you stop for a second to wipe your eyes, thoroughly smudging your makeup now and probably making you look insane. 

Scott had good moments, though. When it was good, it was good— spontaneous nights out, making out in alleyways like lovesick teenagers, and every second feeling like a movie until the credits rolled— but when it was bad, it was really fucking bad. Fights, stupid arguments, bickering, breaking expensive items, and threatening to leave each other until he makes it up to you with mediocre sex and breakfast in bed the next day. You loved him, you did, and you believe he loved you too, but you just can’t pinpoint where it all went wrong. 

You stop strumming the guitar and huff waterily, setting the guitar back on the stand and ripping your headphones off your head before tossing them to the ground. You sit on a metal, foldable chair beside you and lean forward to push your head into your hands. 

You really blew the fuck up on him. Did you overreact? Did you honestly act like a crazy bitch? Fuck, maybe you should apologize. 

You can hear Robin in the back of your head, nagging and begging you to stop thinking self-destructive thoughts like this, telling you you’re insane for even thinking of apologizing, but you just can’t help it. You venture down the deep, dark, but welcoming rabbit hole of psycho-analyzing every romantic relationship you’ve ever had. None of your relationships have lasted— the ones in high school, obviously, but you’ve been out of that shit hole for years now, yet you’re still playing the never-ending game of kiss and tell.

Life in Hawkins was a weird, dull one. All the boys you brought home never shared the same interests as you and certainly did not like that you had a mind of your own. They didn’t like the clothes you wore, or the makeup you did, or the music you listened to. They thought you and the rest of the band were stupid and wasting your lives trying to be something big with the weird sound you carried. Nothing about you or the people you hung out with fit the cookie-cutter shape of Hawkins, and you learned that the hard way. 

You were more of a dirty secret for boys in your school. Nobody wanted to express their love or attraction to you openly, but they sure as hell did so behind closed doors. Your first boyfriend, Brady, was a star on the wrestling team; he didn’t mind showing you off much because nobody had the guts to talk shit about him— too scared to get sucker punched. Brady lasted a few months before you eventually cut ties with each other. 

There were a few others after Brady, all meeting the same dead end you’re so familiar with. Although there was one guy— Eddie Munson— people believed you would be perfect for each other. You liked the same music, dressed relatively the same, and had shitty high school bands nobody wanted to listen to. Logistically, it was a perfect match; the only problem was Eddie Munson is an asshole. 

Scum of the earth, piece of shit, grade-A asshole.

Scott was friends with him, and on occasion, you would sometimes cross paths at parties or hangouts with mutual friends; and every single run-in you’ve had with the man left you with a splitting migraine and an itching impulse to smash his head through a window. He’s awful; he doesn’t respect you or any woman for that matter, he acts like he’s a living god, and he and his shitty band won (stole) that fucking music contest in Hawkins back in ‘87, and you’ll never forget it. That’s how you met him, and your guys’ race to the top hasn’t let up since.

And now that you think of it, it’s not surprising that Eddie and Scott get along so well— they’re both sexist assholes. 

You’re milling in your thoughts for what seems like hours, tears dried and itching against your skin. You’re not sure how long you sit in the sound booth, but before you know it, Robin’s hoarse voice is cracking through the speakers of the sound booth, “As much as I think you’re a musical genius and love the way you work in mysterious ways, it’s extremely late, and we both need to catch some sleep before tomorrow.”

Your face twists in confusion, “Tomorrow? What’s special about tomorrow?” You ask, your voice cracking. Robin shifts on her feet, brows furrowing at your confusion, “We’re meeting with the record label. Remember we’re playing them our new album?”

Fuck. You completely forgot about that, and all of those songs, except for maybe three, are based around your stupid ex-fiance that just dumped you for your best friend. You sigh, dropping your head in your hands and running your palms over your face. You let out a long groan into your hands, not even hearing Robin opening the door to the sound booth and walking up to you. Her chilled fingers wrap around your wrists to pull your hands away from your face. Her blue eyes are tired and full of love and warmth as she squats before you to gaze at you, “Talk to me.”

Tears brim your eyes at her soft voice, and you wince— you really wish you could stop fucking crying. You rub at your teary eyes and shake your head, “It’s just—” you sigh and blearily blink down at Robin, “they’re all about him, Rob.” You frown.

Robin patiently waits for you to find the words, comfortingly squeezing your tear-dampened fingers. “Every song on the album is about him and I… I really don’t wanna spend an entire tour singing about him.” You softly speak, avoiding her gaze.

The brown-haired girl shuffles closer to you, ducking into your gaze and shrugging, “That’s okay,” she shakes her head, “We can scrap it. I mean, the label might be a little pissed, but just… play them what we did tonight, and I guarantee you they’ll extend our time.”

You furrow your brows and shake your head, “What? No. Robin, the song’s not finished—” “We don’t get another chance with this, Tiger. We either play them what we did tonight or give them the album.”

And you know Robin is right; she does not want to give you an ultimatum, but it’s the inevitable truth. You can either play the song and hope it’s the best thing the label has ever heard, or you suck it up and play them the album full of bittersweet words that leave a sticky residue clogging your throat.

You look at Robin, her patient and tired gaze locked on your face. You chew on the inside of your cheek, thinking it over for a moment— and it could work. The new song you’d just recorded is insane— nothing you’ve ever done before and, without a doubt, has a groundbreaking sound. It could work.

Max and Nancy are going to kill you tomorrow.

You nod your head, “Okay,” you breathe. Robin’s lips slowly stretch into a smile, “I’m gonna play it for them.” You nod. Robin shoots up to her feet with a cheer.

“Perfect! Now wipe those tears, and let's get the fuck out of here.”

You and Robin look like hell. You’re sporting heavy undereye bags with dark circles, while Robin opted to cover her evident lack of sleep with a pair of dark shades. Nancy and Max look concerned when they see you both sitting in the lobby of your label’s building. Nancy, of course, chastised you for your lateness while Max just snickered in the corner. Max suddenly makes a face as she speaks, “Why do you guys look like you’ve been hit by a bus?”

Robin tiredly groans, shifting in her seat with a yawn, “Stayed at the studio late.” She mumbles. Nancy’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, “Why? I thought we had everything ready for today.” She points out, obviously concerned. Nothing would ever get done if you didn’t have Nancy in the band. Now that you look at her, she has a manila folder in her hands, most likely stuffed with questions, comments, concerns, budgets, and more. She was more like Erica’s assistant than your bass player. But fuck, could her skilled fingers pluck out a riff.

You suck in a breath through your teeth, glancing over at Robin, who seems to be now passed out behind her glasses, offering you no help. You scoff. Of course. You mentally punch Robin in the face. You fidget with the rings on your fingers as you begin to explain. “So, basically,” you start, “I came home yesterday and found Scott and Angie fucking in my bed, so I threw their shit out the window and then called Robin,” you barely pay attention to Nancy and Max’s widening eyes as you spew out the events of yesterday. You knew they already knew, probably from Erica or the fucking tabloids. Hell, the whole fucking world knew, but they acted like this was their first time hearing about it. 

You ramble on about the events, telling them about you finding inspiration and dragging Robin to the studio, drunk, only to decide to scrap the album you’d all been working on for the past few months. 

That last bit of information didn’t go so well, however. 

“You what?”

You wince at Max’s sneering tone, glancing at Nancy to try and get a read on her expressionless face. “Please tell me you’re joking,” Max says, voice teetering on the precipice of panic. You wish Robin would wake the fuck up. “I… I know I’m really taking a leap of faith here, but I need you guys to trust me on this,” you plead, gaze hopefully bouncing between the two women, “Please.”

Max folds her arms across her chest, tongue rolling against the inside of her cheek before she shakes her head, “I swear if this fucks us over, you’ll never hear the end of it from me.” She breaks, and you’re just thankful she agrees to follow your and Robin’s plan. She turns around and walks over to plop into the seat on the other side of the lobby, glancing at you before speaking, “Sorry about Scott, by the way…” she mumbles. “Maybe it’s a good thing; I never liked all those love songs anyways…” She smiles apologetically, and you huff out a chuckle.

Nancy nudges her foot against your leather boot, “You were out of his league anyway. He was dumber than a rock.” She adds to Max’s apology. You snicker and thank them for their condolences. Nancy sits on the chair next to Max and sighs heavily, “Did you tell Erica about the change?” she asks, already flipping through her folder. You pretended you didn’t hear the question, which was not a good idea. 

The two girls begin to panic at your eerie silence. Nancy’s face falls, and Robin fucking snores, “You did tell Erica, right?” She presses. Your silence says enough.

Max groans, leaning forward to sink her head into the palm of her hands, “We’re so fucked.”

And when the time comes, you’re not exactly sure what the label is thinking. All the board members wear the same unwavering expression as they listen to All I Wanted. You glance at Nancy and Max, who are both visibly shaken with nerves; Max’s leg bouncing at an ungodly rate beneath the table, and Nancy’s poor fingers picked to shreds. Robin, who’s now awake, is busying herself with doodling random sketches on the napkin in front of her, and you’re— well, you’re hardly breathing. 

Erica looks thoroughly pissed; you don’t doubt she’d thought about strangling you the second you announced you were scraping the album. You could tell she was itching to make some phone calls as her stone-hard gaze stayed on you throughout the whole listening session. You pretended you didn’t notice her.

When the demo ends, a thick silence settles over the room, and you lean forward, pressing pause on the track to prevent the CD from repeating. You awkwardly scratch the side of your neck, “I-It’s not done; I’m still working on it, but um—” You glance at the table of faces and gulp. You haven’t been this nervous in longer than you can remember. “I know it can be something. Something big.”

James, the CEO of the record label, clears his throat and leans forward, pressing his elbows onto the thick wooden table. A burning cigarette hangs between his fingers as he points to the middle of the table where the CD player sits, “This is about Scott, yes?”

All eyes are on you, and you have no choice but to nod yes. James takes a drag of his cigarette, eyebrows furrowing as he silently thinks. You glance at your friends, a wave of nerves washing through your body at the anticipation. “What happened yesterday can never happen again. You almost ruined your image. Almost.” He finally speaks, his stern gaze locked in on you. You almost want to shrink in your seat, feeling like a child being scolded in the principal's office as he continues to speak. “You're a good talent, but if you don't know how to act like a grown woman, you won’t have a place here.” 

You scoff and open your mouth, a smart response on the tip of your tongue, until Robin harshly kicks the heel of her leather boot into your ankle. You hiss in pain, sucking on your teeth to poorly conceal it. You relent and nod your head, “I understand.”

James nods and flicks the ashes of his cigarette into the ashtray beside him, leaning back in his chair with a heavy sigh, “Now,” his lips split into a smug grin, a grin that tells you that you won, “Get this track finished by the end of the week. I want it on air by Monday morning.”

Monday morning, Eddie is hauling ass down I-405, without a doubt breaking many traffic laws he could care less about, given he’s late to his studio session with the band. When is he not late? He’s got a cigarette hanging from his lips and the smell of last night's alcohol on his clothes. As he meticulously swerves and weaves in and out of LA traffic, he jams his finger to turn his radio on, flipping through static, noise, ads, shitty pop music, and landing on a seemingly decent Rock station. 

He takes his cigarette out of his mouth and puffs the rest before tossing it out of the open window. His hair tousles from the wind, and he bats the curly strands away whenever they fly into his view. His ringed fingers grip the steering wheel, swerving out of the way of a truck before honking and throwing up a middle finger. What he misses during that exchange is the introduction of the song.

“Next up is a new hit single named All I Wanted by Daughters of Vampira! Daughters of Vampira will be going on tour soon; stay tuned for details!”

Then, the music starts when he finally starts to slow down after narrowly missing the truck.

“Think of me when you’re out, when you’re out there,

I’ll beg you nice from my knees.

And when the world treats you way too fairly,

Well, it’s a shame, I’m a dream.”

Your voice filters through his car stereo, unbeknownst to Eddie, and he glances down at his music console. He slowly turns the volume dial up, intrigued by the sound and wanting to know where it’s leading. When the ferocious guitar shred comes in, his face twists in approval, turning the volume even louder as he bobs his head to the tune. Whoever’s band this was, is fucking good. It’s not every day you hear a good Rock song sung by a woman, he thinks.

“All I wanted was you, oh,

All I wanted was you, oh!”

Eddie’s not sure why it takes him so long to realize the voice playing through his speakers is none other than the lead singer of that stupid fucking feminazi band Daughters of Vampira. He nearly chokes when he realizes it’s your voice, turning the volume up to max and listening to the words.

It’s… sad. The lyrics are like the gut-wrenching heartbreak you see in movies, aching and drenched with the grief of a love that was supposed to be great. And your voice is so fucking raw, so angry, and filled with pain that it brings Eddie to a stand-still, the skin on his arms raising in tiny bumps at the sheer emotion. Eddie almost forgets he’s in his car until he hears the car behind him honking, the man behind the wheel yelling at him to go now that the traffic light has turned green. He doesn’t move an inch, afraid he’ll miss a beat of this slice of heartache.

The song ends, and Eddie turns off his radio, choosing to spend the rest of his ride in silence as the gnawing feeling of guilt settles in his gut. By the sound of it, Scott really did a fucking number on you— tore your heart out, chewed it up, spit it out, and stepped on it like a spider on a sidewalk— and Eddie knows what that feels like; he’s had his heart broken before so he knows what it feels like to be so angry at the love you had for a person. It’s a shitty feeling.

So, Eddie’s not sure why he decides to be an asshole and tell the boys about your new song, but he does. The second he enters the studio, he tells Gareth to turn on the radio.

“...Why?” Gareth questions with a tone of suspicion. Eddie brushes his question off and walks to lean over the desk, turning the radio on and beginning to switch through the stations. “Uh, Eddie… we’ve got some work to do, man, we don’t have time for—” “Shh, just give me a second,” Eddie snaps. 

“It’s gotta be playing somewhere.” Eddie mumbles, eyebrows furrowed, ringed finger going overtime on the dial, abruptly stopping when he finally hears it. “This is it! This is it; just listen.” Eddie turns the volume up and stands up to his full height, hands on his hips, and chews on his lip as they silently listen to the song.

Jeff is the first to speak through the sound of drums and intense chords, “Why are we listening to this?” Eddie waves him off, telling him just to wait— just wait until the verse.

“I think I’ll pace my apartment a few times,

And fall asleep on the couch. 

Wake up early to black-and-white reruns,

That escape from my mouth.”

Scott’s eyes widen, striding over to Eddie’s side and gazing at the boombox in shock, “No fuckin’ way.” He breathes. Eddie looks at Scott as he reaches over to increase the volume. Gareth twirls his drumstick between his knuckles and deeply sighs as he leans back in his chair and kicks his feet up onto the soundboard, “Dude, no offense, but why are we listening to this shit?” He asks. Scott turns to the boys and points back to the radio, “That’s my fucking bitch ex singing about me.”

Jeff and Gareth’s eyes widen, both boys leaning forward in their seats to listen to the lyrics. Scott curses and reaches over to shut the radio off, letting a thick silence fall over the room. Jeff is the first to break and nervously laugh, and Eddie grins, Gareth falling into a fit of laughter behind Jeff’s. “Why the fuck are you guys laughing?” Scott sneers.

Eddie chuckles, reaching out to rest his hands on Scott’s shoulders and turn him to face each other, “You don’t get it, man,” Eddie begins. Scott’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, and Eddie smiles mischievously, “This is the perfect time to drop Crazy Bitch.”

You nearly blow a gasket when you first hear Corroded Coffin’s new song. Nancy did quite a good job of bringing you down to somewhat of a levelheaded state and getting you to understand that killing Scott or slashing his tires wouldn’t be the wisest of decisions to make. You still aren’t convinced.

You try your best to ignore the song, switching the radio to a different station whenever it plays, but it seems like that fucking track follows you wherever you go. A week after the song's release, you’re walking down the street with Robin, browsing the stores that catch your eye and chatting about whatever comes to mind.

You hardly notice the crowd gathered outside the store you are in until Robin points it out, nudging your side and nodding towards the window, “Looks like we’ve got company today.” she mumbles. You curse, shelving the shirt you’d been looking at as you grumble to Robin, “Seriously, how the fuck did they find us?”

You suppose the rest of your day out won’t last much longer, so you and Robin decide to make your way home, stepping out into the crowd and shoving through a sea of flashing bulbs. 

Over time, you’ve mustered up the strength to ignore the questions paparazzi throw at you; questions about who you’re dating, your sexuality, your political beliefs— questions of generally no substance or anything to do with your music. You’ve become numb to the reality of your life being plastered on tabloids and riddled with lies; it doesn’t really hurt you anymore. 

However, you’re still a human being, and you have moments where you crack, and today seems to be one of those moments when a man yells out, “You were seen dumping your ex-fiance Scott's items into the street! So is the song true? Did you and Eddie Munson have an affair? Is that why you and Scott broke up?” 

Robin tenses, glancing at you and silently pleading for you to just keep walking. Ignore, ignore, ignore.

You glare but smile at the man, flashing your white, shark-like teeth, “If you wanna know so bad, why don’t you ask Scott and Angie yourself?” You sneer. 

A few of the men snicker, one whistling and commenting about you being feisty, but you ignore it and continue as you and Robin finally reach your car, “And for the record, I wouldn’t touch that asshole with a ten-inch pole. His dick is small.” You grin sarcastically, opening your car door and getting in without another word. You hear the crowd erupt in more questions outside your car, some scribbling stuff down on their notepads and some laughing.

You groan in annoyance, buckling yourself in and starting the car as Robin settles in the passenger seat. You don’t miss the chance to flip the mob of men off when you drive off, leaving them behind with screeching tires. It’s silent until Robin chuckles, and you glance at her, “What’s so funny?”

Robin shrugs and shakes her head, “Nothing,” she says, “Just that Erica’s gonna murder you.” You roll your eyes and slide a pair of shades on. “When is she not wanting to murder me?” 

The media erupted after your comment about womanizer and rockstar Eddie Munson. Many fans came to your aid, voicing the truth of the breakup and defending you and your band. In contrast, many other fans— Corroded Coffin’s cult of assholes— came to Eddie’s defense, stating that he was only doing charity work to get your name in the papers. That you were fucking your way to the top of the music industry and much, much more deeply misogynistic statements. 

You didn’t care for any of it. You, your friends, your family, and your band knew what actually happened. The best part is that Scott knew the truth, and he was a shit fucking liar. He couldn’t cover up what happened if his life depended on it. It made you think of how he could lie about the affair for as long as he did. You don’t dwell on that thought for too long, growing tired of digging deeper into the pit of despair Scott had so happily tossed you into.

At the end of the day, your image is in shambles, and if your image is fucked, then so is the bands. Daughters of Vampira wasn’t booking anything; shows, meet-and-greets, autograph signings— nothing. Even though All I Wanted was an enormous hit and ended up in the charts, people couldn’t get over the fact that you, the lead singer, tend to be explosive. You would’ve felt bad about this if Eddie’s image hadn’t suffered the same fate. 

Eddie and his band immediately stopped booking shows after their song Crazy Bitch. Of course, it was a big success, but only because the drama fueled it. Young women stopped throwing themselves at the band and instead opted for screaming, “Woman haters!” and “Sexist pigs!” at them whenever they were out. It had been fucking rough, and it only got worse after Eddie commented to the paparazzi while he was out on a coffee run in the streets of Los Angeles.

“How the fuck do they always find me?” Eddie grumbles to himself, putting on a fake smile for the group.

Eddie was rocking a pair of shades, thinking of ways to quickly escape the mob, when a young boy approached him from the crowd. He had a Corroded Coffin shirt on with a photograph of Eddie clenched to his chest as he kindly asked for an autograph. 

“Sure, kid,” Eddie crouches down to the boy’s height and gently takes the photograph and Sharpie, "who am I signing it for?” He smiles softly at the boy, “For Thomas, sir!” The boy politely says, his eyes shining in excitement. “Thomas, sick name, man.” Eddie compliments, yanking the cap off with his teeth. He signs his name with a Let’s fuckin’ ROCK! in the corner, putting the lid back and handing the photo back to the boy. 

He smiles when the boy squeals in excitement and offers him a fist bump before standing up to his full height. “Thank you, Mr. Munson!” Eddie snickers and nods, “‘Course, but hey, don’t call me Munson; call me Ed,” He smirks, and the kid laughs. “Mr. Muns– Ed, I have a question for you,” the kid shyly asks. 

Eddie’s heart implodes at the cuteness of this little shithead and chuckles as he responds, “Shoot, kid, I’m all ears,” Eddie ignores the flashes from the cameras, taking photos of this pure and innocent moment. He ignores the coos from the women, from the kid’s parents, all of it, just zoned in on this small child meeting his hero. Him.

“Ed, is it true that you hate girls?”

And just like that, the moment is over.

Eddie turns red in the face and forces a harsh but nervous laugh. The crowd closes in upon hearing the exchange and begins asking a multitude of questions. The parents snag their son away and start expressing profuse apologies that Eddie waves off. “Nah, nah, the kid’s fine. But uh, to answer your question, no, that isn’t true, Tommy boy,” he says, looking at the child standing beside his mother’s legs. He takes out a pack of smokes and opens it, sliding a cigarette between his lips as he adds, “I am a really big fan of girls,” he flashes a dazzling smile around the stick and does finger guns at the small kid before he turns and begins to walk away. 

He’s forgotten all about his coffee, and now all he wants is to get the fuck outta there. 

He lights the cigarette up and ignores the crowd of paparazzi following him, cameras still in motion. He rolls his eyes, body buzzing in annoyance from the kid's question and the crowd. He continues walking the street as more questions and fans approach him. As Eddie signs a woman’s photograph, a cigarette hanging from his lips, an interviewer comments with a camera already zoned in and recording Eddie’s face. No doubt this will be on MTV tonight. No doubt he won’t hear the end of it from Dustin and Steve.

“Eddie, did you hear what the frontwoman of Daughters of Vampira has said about you? Can we get a response?” He shoves the mic into Eddie’s face.

Eddie’s lips break into a grin, but he doesn’t look up from the autograph he’s signing. “Yeah… yeah, I heard, and y’know what? She can come find out herself if it’s small or not,” He looks up and smirks right at the camera, “Have a nice day.” He smiles tightly at the interviewer and hastily flags down a taxi, hopping in and yelling at the driver to step on it. He watches as the crowd grows smaller and smaller with distance, his heart thundering in his chest. He takes deep breaths to slow his pulse down, to stop thinking of you. 

It never seems to slow as his mind can’t move on from you or that damn song.

Both the managers of Corroded Coffin and Daughters of Vampira are pushed to the limit with you and Eddie. Dustin Henderson and Steve Harrington are co-managers of Corroded Coffin, mainly because Steve has the money and Dustin has the brains to man the operation. All Steve really does is cut the checks and warn the team when to cut back on the extracurriculars. 

Erica, Steve, and Dustin are all from Hawkins and are quite familiar with each other due to living in a small town where everyone knows everybody. They, along with all members of Corroded Coffin and Daughters of Vampira, all sort of grew up with one another in the 80s and have always been on this whimsical journey together. As the years went by, you all drifted, more so because of the competition, but aside from the band, the managers stayed relatively civil with one another. Erica, Steve, and Dustin stayed in touch because sometimes they couldn’t handle the two bands, which is why Erica summoned the two boys to a bar in downtown LA.

Erica Sinclair is seemingly always tested by you and has no idea where to go or what her next move should be. She has times when she feels like a single mother dealing with an angsty teen, and when those moments teeter on disastrous, she makes calls— the call.

“I mean, I have just had it up to here,” Erica moves her hand up in the air to emphasize her annoyance, “with these girls, I mean, my god!” She shakes her head as she sips her red wine, the two boys nodding from across from her. “Trust me,” Steve scoffs, “we get it.” 

Dustin nods, taking a sip of his Shirley Temple and smacking his lips before adding, “We’re in the same boat too— with Eddie,” Dustin starts, drinking his Shirley Temple out of a bendy straw. 

“Yeah, he’s always been a pain in the ass, ever since high school,” Steve continues, sharing a look with Dustin, who tiredly nods, “But it has never been this bad. Normally we can get a hold on him running his mouth, but it’s just been…” Steve falters and trails off, struggling to grasp the words to explain Eddie’s childlike behavior. Erica nods, “I know what you mean,” She makes a face and holds her wine glass out to cheer with them. Dustin clinks his Shirley Temple, and Steve clinks his beer, them all taking a sip.

“Both band’s images are terrible. It won’t be long till we’re losing more money,” Steve grumbles, taking another swig of his beer. “I think we should just lock them all in a room together till they get along,” Erica jokes, earning a chortle from Steve and a cackle from Dustin. They all sigh in unison, a comfortable silence falling over them. 

Suddenly, Dustin sits up straight, aggressively snapping his fingers before pointing to Erica.

Steve jumps and makes a face at Dustin, grumbling about how annoying Dustin’s theatrics are. Erica rolls her eyes, already used to the boy’s antics. “Well? Are you gonna tell us about your nerdy little lightbulb moment or keep making a scene?” She sneers over her wine glass rim, taking a sip. Dustin looks back from Steve’s annoyed face to Erica’s tired one, basking in the dramatics.

“Why don’t we do just that?” He finally says.

Steve and Erica share a look. Typically, Dustin has these moments, and Steve and Erica have to entertain them, but Erica thinks Henderson might be onto something. Steve scoffs and leans back in his chair, “I doubt they’d last a week locked in a house before one kills the other.” Steve mumbles, clearly missing Dustin’s case in point.

Erica, however, knows just where Dustin’s mind has gone— to the motherland of brilliant-fucking-idea. Erica puts her glass down and leans her elbows on the table, resting her chin on the backs of her folded hands. “When you say just that, you mean…?” She looks at the boy quizzically, praying he means what she thinks he means. Steve puts his hand on the back of Dustin’s chair and leans forward, “I’m not really picking up on this guys,” He uses his other hand to lazily gesture. Dustin ignores Steve and nods slowly, “Oh hell yeah, I mean that.” He says, smirking mischievously. Erica and Dustin share a grin, a playful gleam in their eyes. Steve groans on the side in annoyance.

“Let’s book a fuckin’ tour bus, boys,” Erica concludes, and Dustin erupts in cheers, the two of them clinking their drinks. Steve finally understands, and his eyes widen, “Oh! Holy shit, that’s fucking genius.”

Erica laughs and finishes off the last of her wine. “Tiger is gonna kill me.” She smirks and shakes her head, sighing. Dustin and Steve share a look and chuckle a little bit, “Her reaction won’t be as bad as Munson’s. He’s gonna fuckin’ lose it.” Dustin says, slurping on his straw.

A few weeks pass before Erica, Steve, and Dustin manage to rally both bands in a conference room. The tension in the room is almost unbearable. For the most part, the band members seem more interested in knowing why they’ve been summoned together— the real tension is at the end of the table, where you and Eddie sit across from each other. Eddie wears a snickering grin to go along with his darkened shades, and you— well, if looks could kill, everybody in this room would be six feet under and crossing into the afterlife. 

You’re pissed. Annoyed that you’re being forced to breathe the same air as that fuckface Eddie Munson, and Eddie could not be more pleased with himself. Eddie gazes at each of the girls across from him; Max, who’s glaring at your managers and bouncing her knee in evident impatience, Nancy, who couldn’t look more uninterested if she tried; and Robin, who seems more intrigued with the wood paneling of the wall to look at anything else. He makes the mistake of looking at you, earning him a nicely silver-wrapped middle finger which he winks at.

“If you two are done acting like children down there, we’d like to get this meeting started,” Erica announces from her seat at the head of the table. All eyes turn to her, and she sarcastically smiles, opening her mouth to begin speaking until you cut her off, “Whatever fucking bullshit you three have planned, I won’t be a part of it. Not with this asshole.” You gesture to the curly-haired boy across from you.

Gareth and Jeff snicker, and you glare at them, ignoring Robin’s elbow jabbing into your side. “It’s funny that you think you have a choice, Tiger,” Erica says, tilting her head with a grin. You begin to bounce your leg impatiently, jaw clenching as the ticking time bomb in your mind begins to speed up. 

Dustin clears his throat and stands up, gathering everyone's attention as he clasps his hands. “Let’s cut straight to the chase,” he begins, “Your music careers are fucked.”

Jeff breathily laughs to the side, and Erica glares at him, quickly diminishing his obvious amusement. “Somehow, the seven of you have managed to obliterate your band's image in less than a month,” Dustin points out, picking up a stack of magazines before him and walking calmly about the room. He tosses a magazine out into the middle of the table, “Misogynists,” another magazine, “Anti-feminist,” another magazine, “Chauvinists,” another magazine— the final one, “Woman-haters.”

You all look at the magazines silently until you mumble, “Sounds about right,” causing Eddie to scoff and roll his eyes beneath his shades. “What? You’re mad the media is finally realizing how full of shit you all are?” You prod with a tilt of your head. “At least nobody’s saying I should be sent to a fucking ward.”

Your eyes narrow, and you begin to form a response, but Erica rises from her seat loudly, startling the room as her loud voice booms through the space, “The media is tearing both of you to shreds,” she leans forward to press her palms against the cool wooden table, heated gaze darting between you and Eddie.

“Both of your bands aren’t booking gigs, and you're losing money faster than you earn it,” she points out, watching as you all cower from the truth. She waves a manicured finger between both sides of the table, “This stupid little fucking back and forth you’ve created either ends here or on the road.”

Robin’s face twists in confusion, a raspy voice speaking up for the first time, “On the road?”

Steve turns to her and grins, “Yes. On the road. Together.”

Gareth leans forward in his chair, confused as he speaks, “What, like a retreat type deal?” He questions. Dustin slaps a paper down in front of him, “No. Tour. Nine months, ninety-two shows.”

Gareth doesn’t get much time to take in the information on the paper before Eddie snatches it out of his hands, shades pushed up into his hair as he leans in to gape at it. A list of tour dates, an ongoing and never-ending fucking list.

“You’re not serious.” He says. Steve chuckles at the end of the table, nodding his head, “As serious as a heart attack.”

You’re next to snatch the paper away for a gander, ignoring the rest of the room as everyone erupts in a fit of protest. You stand with your back to the table as you gaze through each date, your neck heating up with anger as your fingers crease the paper. You turn around, face twisted in rage, wrinkling the paper in your shaking fist as you storm up to where Erica stands, waiting for you to say your piece with an unwavering impression.

You hold the crinkled paper up as you stand before her, “You’ve lost your fucking mind if you think I’m doing shows with these pieces of shits.” You sneer, tossing the paper onto the table. Erica raises an eyebrow, looking at you as if you’ve gone off the deep end. The room enters a thick silence at your outburst, all eyes on the standoff between you and Erica. “Call the tour off, or I’m out.”

“What?” Robin leans forward to gaze at you, eyes widened in shock at your words, “You’re not leaving the band, Y/N, you— you can’t.”

You ignore Robin and step closer to Erica, eyes burning into her gaze as you speak, and Erica has never seen you this angry in all her years of knowing you. “Call it off.”

Erica will let you believe you have the upper hand for your peace of mind, but when it comes down to reality, you both know you don’t stand a chance against her force of nature. Erica is calm and uncannily patient as she speaks to you, “You’re at a dead-end street, Tiger,” she starts, “You either make a way, or you go back to Hawkins with your tail between your legs like everyone expected.” 

Erica sits back in her chair, not even bothering to look at you as she busies herself with the paperwork before her when she adds, “You make the call.”

You glare down at her, throat closing in anger and betrayal. You don’t say another word as you storm out, leaving the room with a booming echo of the heavy glass door slamming shut. Erica sighs, settling back in her chair and gazing at the rest of the band members, who are all silently fuming in anger. “Now, does anyone else have something to say or something of substance to add, or are we done here?” Eddie rises from his seat with clear annoyance, “This is bullshit,” the force of his movement sends his chair back to the wall as he walks out of the room, just as angrily as you had previously done.

The remaining band members sit in silence, avoiding each other's gaze, and Steve breathily laughs, “Well, Dustin, you were wrong,” he teases, smirking when Dustin and Erica turn to him. “Eddie took that pretty well.”

The band members glance at the managers, and Dustin sighs as he leans back in his chair, twisting his mouth in thought and tapping his pen against the table.

“This is gonna be more work than I thought.”

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a/n: AHHH, YOU'VE MADE IT TO THE END!!! WE HOPE YOU LIKED THIS AND LOVE THEM SO FAR; more to come sooonnnn <3

————

teeny taglist: @tommyvelvet @oeuryale

#WOOOOO #ENJOYYY #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson au #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x rockstar!reader #drabble #eddie x you #eddie x y/n #eddie munson blurb #eddie x fem!reader #stranger things au

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

The Haircut

This will fill the "Stop moving! I'm almost done." space on my @jacklesversebingo card. The prompt will be bolded.

Summary: Y/N is trying to Dean a favor. How can he repay her?

Warnings/Explicit 18+: None really. Kissing. Slightly pouty/adorable Dean. Pretty much all fluff.

Pairings: Dean x Y/N

Word Count: 977

A/N: I got a request from the lovely @k-slla:

Hey, you asked if we get ideas with your bingo card, to let you know😊. I saw that one was "Stop moving, I'm almost done". Can you maybe do this either Dean W/ Ben fic where reader cuts his hair and he can't stop fidgeting?

I went with Dean. 😊 Loved the idea, hope you like the result my dear! And if anyone has any other requests for the remaining prompts on the card above, please message me or send me an ask. ❤️

The beautiful dividers both below and at the bottom were created by @saradika

Dean’s neck was scrunched into his shoulders as he heard Y/N’s scissors snipping away at the back of his head. Y/N paused briefly to cuff him lightly on the ear. 

“Good god, you’re such a baby. What do you think I’m doing back here?”

Dean straightened up on the wooden chair that Y/N had dragged into the kitchen to perform the task of trimming Dean’s slightly overgrown, light brown hair. He grunted softly and shrugged. 

“I dunno.” He mumbled like a petulant little boy. “Could be doing anything.”

Y/N rolled her eyes so hard she knew Dean could see it, even facing away from her. Without commenting she returned to her careful cutting. As the minutes passed, going from five to ten to fifteen, Dean began shifting more and more, boredom setting in.

“Oh for pete’s sake!” Y/N admonished him, setting the scissors on the table behind her and slamming her hands down onto his broad shoulders. “Sit still, and stop moving! I’m almost done.”

A decidedly whiny grumble left Dean’s lips and Y/N had to stop herself from laughing. He was such a child sometimes, a very badly behaved child. She took up her scissors and began again. His usual haircut was simple, and it didn’t take her long to finish. But even once she was done, she pretended she wasn’t, just so she could keep her fingers running through his thick, soft locks. 

Finally she set her scissors down for the last time and then played at fussing with his hair, running her fingers through it more, and “styling” it, even though it fell naturally into his usual style. But she found whatever excuse she could, wanting to keep the chore going. She was enjoying having a reason to stand so close to him, to let his spicy scent drift up to her nose, letting her breathe him in deeply.

Finally she took off the kitchen towel she’d wrapped around his neck to try and catch stray hairs. After removing it, she began to brush away the short hairs that still stuck to Dean’s neck. They clung stubbornly, so Y/N leaned down and blew across his skin to get rid of the pesky bits that wouldn’t let go.

Dean shuddered and Y/N watched gooseflesh appear on his neck and over the part of his chest she could see as she peered down the front of his v-neck t-shirt. She felt her lower belly clench as she watched his muscles flex and release, as his chest began to rise and fall a little faster.

Was his reaction simply natural; just a normal response to the light air she’d blown across his skin? Or was it an indication of something more? She blew on him again to check, and a soft groan escaped Dean’s lips this time, giving her the answer. She walked slowly in front of him and quirked her head to the side.

“What was that, Winchester?” She asked, trying to keep her tone light and teasing in case she was reading way too much into this.

Dean licked his lips and shrugged, a sheepish grin splitting his handsome features. “I dunno.”

Y/N chuckled and put her hands on her hips. “Is that all you can say tonight? Got nothing else for me?”

Leaning forward suddenly, Dean yanked on Y/N’s arm, and pulled her easily into his lap. She squeaked slightly and then laughed breathlessly. Her laugh turned to a gasp as Dean’s big hand squeezed her upper thigh, burning her skin through the denim of her jeans.

“Actually, I got lots for you, sweetheart, if you want me to show you.” His smile was devilish, but she saw the slight fear of rejection behind the teasing in his sparkling emerald eyes.

She pushed her hands through his hair, scraping her nails against his scalp, and he shivered again. “Well, you do owe me for this amazing haircut.”

Dean laughed and his relief was obvious in the warm sound. His eyes softened as he moved to press his mouth gently to the underside of her jaw; Y/N’s pulse picked up. 

He slid his silky lips across her cheek, then over the bridge of her nose and down to the other side of her jaw, before he pressed his mouth firmly against her slightly trembling lips. He moved to sip at her top lip before beginning to nibble on the bottom one, licking at the corners of her mouth until she opened for him, anxious to taste him.

He swept inside her like an invasion, and she moaned into his open mouth. He tasted just how she knew he would, like something smoky and sweet at the same time. She tilted her head so he could reach further into her, and then groaned deep and rough as he took up her invitation.

Dean finally pulled out of the kiss, panting for air, and started to kiss up and down her neck. But Y/N wasn’t done with feeling his lips move on hers, so she pulled him back up to kiss him harder, rougher, their tongues battling more, teeth bumping.

After a few minutes, Dean pulled back again, this time moving to nibble on her earlobe. Feeling his teeth scrape against the velvety skin there made Y/N’s breath catch, but she still wasn’t done kissing him. So, she pulled his head up once again and repeated her admonishment from earlier in the evening. 

“Stop moving! I’m almost done.” She said with a cheeky grin.

Dean’s smile was filled with delight and his eyes danced merrily. “Okay, sweetheart, you just let me know when you’re done with me.”

Y/N ran her hands over his scruffy cheeks and leaned into his hard, wide chest. “Never.” She whispered against his lips. “I’ll never be done with you, Winchester.”

1 - Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays. @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @impalaslytherin @maggiegirl17 @akshi8278 @candy-coated-misery0731 @deanswaywardgirl @slytherinlyn314 @globetrotter28 @jensensgirl @perpetualabsurdity @tristanrosspada-ackles @djs8891 @muhahaha303 @kayyay1219 @emily-winchester @recoveringpastaaddict @maximumkillshot @mimaria420 @sacriceria @envyaurora95 @lacilou @jc-winchester @spnwoman @mimi-luvzyu @jackles010378

2 - Dean Winchester Fics Only. @carryonwaywardgirl

3 - Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.) @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @alexxavicry @nancymcl @spalady26

4 - Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well) @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @maliburenee @supernatural4life2022 @spn730015 @kickingitwithkirk @waywardbaby @foxyjwls007 @deanwanddamons @deandreamernp @deanwithscissors @myloversgone @snowlovespie @leigh70 @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @charred-angelwings @hopefuldreamers-world @jensensgotyoudean @thoughts-and-funnies @magssteenkamp @princessmisery666 @eevvvaa @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @bernasaurus @jensenslady79 @courtn92 @avanatural @ellie-andthemachine @this-is-me19 @roseblue373 @katbratsupernaturalwhore @fanfic-n-tabulous @k-slla

#dean x y/n #dean x reader #dean winchester fluff #jacklesversebingo23 #dean winchester fan fic

[eternal-kosmo-ghoul]

*°:⋆ₓₒ day 10. toys

.｡❅*⋆⍋*∞*｡ “festive little fantasies”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — ❤︎ your gift for copia surely got him excited….

pairing: papa copia x afab!reader

a/n: day 10!!!! i wrote this at a restaurant lmao

cw: nsfw content. vibrator. oral sex (f receiving). cunnilingus. edging.

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“… color me surprised, dolcezza. you sure know how to get a man going.” —❤︎

┅✦┅

“merry christmas, darling!”

“… what exactly are you beholding?”

your cheerful, beaming smile turned into a more deadpanned look as you heard a certain papa give you his usual sarcastic quip.

“it’s a present..?” you state in a rather sassy tone, holding the beautifully wrapped present out in your palms for him to see. “y’know, the shit you get on christmas?”

copia eyes the gift in your hands, and he just chuckles. “i know, amore. i’m just messing with you.”

your blank stare quickly morphed back into your excited, playful grin, and handed the box to copia, which he gladly took. it was a rather neatly wrapped gift. a medium sized box wrapped in glittery, red paper with cute snowflake patterns printed all over it. of course, you couldn’t forget the deep green laced bow on top of it, adding holiday charm to the present.

copia gave one of his usual half smiles and tapped the bow on top of the gift, the bow springing a little from the contact. “you surely outdid yourself on the wrapping with this one.”

“yeah, i did. i know i’m great, thank you very much.” you spoke while putting your hands on your hip and flicking your hair dramatically, taking pride in your excellent work.

copia rolled his eyes at you.

“you’re so dramatic sometimes.” he rebuked playfully, and you huffed while keeping your arms crossed.

“well i’m soooo sorry you can’t handle me and my glamorous personality.”

“you sure? i can definitely handle you well in bed—“

“just shut up and open the gift.”

copia laughed heartily, before sitting down in the edge of the bed and unwrapping the present carefully, the paper tears creating satisfying sounds. copia was slowly unraveling the box of its colorful wrapping, and he lifted the lid off of the box to expose… the prize.

his eyes widened a bit as he looked at the intriguing shape of the gift, the mere sight of it coloring his cheeks a hue of scarlet red. however, copia let out a soft, hearty chuckle, before smirking and pulling out the object you had nearly wrapped for him, cradling it with two hands to show it off to you.

“really?” he asked with an authoritative tone, but he was mostly joking. “you got me something that’ll help yourself.”

“heyyy it can help you too!” you exclaimed with a giggle. “help me, help you. mi casa es tu casa.”

“not sure if that’s the right analogy, darling. but whatever floats your boat.”

the gift you had gotten copia was rather… extravagant and sexual. a vibrator, to put it bluntly. however, it was one of the nicer and more high quality ones instead of the shitty porno vibrators you find at the back of a dusty attic. the color was rather beautiful too, a seductive deep shade of red with intricate, satanic-esque black designs that made it look like it was the toy of the devil himself. but the most striking thing about the vibrator, was copia’s name ingrained in beautiful calligraphy handwriting at the base of the toy.

copia looked at you, and you just gave him a mischievous, almost evil looking grin. what crafty little scamp you were.

“custom made just for you, babe.” you smirked, moving to sit next to copia and tapping your fingers on his shoulder in a ‘walking’ motion.

“… color me surprised, dolcezza. you sure know how to get a man going.”

“do you like it?”

“fuck. like is an understatement.”

copia’s gloved fingers gently grasped your chin and tilted your head upwards to make you look at him.

“you have no idea how badly i want to use this bad boy on you.” copia practically pants out, lust lacing his voice.

you groan and whisper in his ear. “then what are we waiting for?”

it didn’t take long before the two of you started to make out furiously. clothed came off in a heated frenzy as you both found yourselves tangled up in the bed, with nothing but your underwear on. copia just panted heavily as he separated his mouth from yours, a glimmering trail of saliva connecting to your guys’ mouths.

copia let out a grunt and buried his head between your legs. using his teeth, he caught the delicate fabric of your panties between them, before using his teeth to pull up your panties, flicking it off of your legs. he cursed at the sight of your dripping wet pussy.

“you look so appetizing.” copia breathed out. you were about to speak, but was quickly cut off with a loud moan when copia started to lap at your clit hungrily.

“oh fuuuck..” you cursed lowly, moaning and spreading your legs a little more as you felt copia eating you out like it’s his last meal, prepping you for the main event.

his tongue worked skillfully around the snensirive bundle of nerves, dripping his saliva all over your slickness and fucking you with his tongue real good. heavenly and airy moans escaped your lips, gripping onto copia’s hair like your life depended on it as you bucked your hips into his face, desperate to feel more of that pleasure.

copia grinned into your glittering cunt and delved his tongue deeper into your folds, moaning at the sweet taste of your nectar. “lucifer, you taste so good.”

after eating you out for a decent amount of time, copia drew his tongue away from your puffy cunt, before he reached his hand to the vibrator that was sitting on the quilt of your sheets. he shimmied himself behind you, that way your back was against his chest and his arm was wrapped around your middle. you moaned and teasingly ground your ass against his dick, making him let out a sharp gasp.

“you little tease.” copia jeered, and you just grinned.

“can’t help it.” you spoke.

copia just sighed and click the vibrator on, feeling it buzz in his hands for a bit. he then grinned before bringing it down between your legs, letting the head of it press against your already stimulated pussy. the pleasurable vibrations only made your legs jolt with pleasure, and you cried out in pure euphoria.

“a-ahh!”

“shhh… that’s it baby.. relax…”

he massaged the sex toy all over your aching red folds, watching you squirm in his grasp as you felt an intense amount of pleasure from the vibrator. copia got more bold and turned up the intensity of the vibrations slowly, before it was at max. you cried out loudly, feeling incredibly overwhelmed by pleasure, the vibrator making your puffy cunt flutter around the head of it, and making it super wet.

“you’re doing so good..” copia praised, his lips nibbling at your earlobe while he massaged the vibrator into your pussy. the feeling of pleasure was so intense.

you were close.

“f-fuck! copia! i need to cum!” you shrieked, voice high pitched and blissed out from how good you felt.

your orgasm was dangerously close, that edge of pleasure you needed to reach to feel fulfilled. you were getting closer.. and closer.. and closer…

… until the pleasure stopped.

looking behind you to see that copia turned off the vibrator, you whined in protest. copia didn’t say a word until he turned on the vibrator again and shoved the toy inside of you, making you shriek with pleasured-pain.

“i’m not going to let you cum until i say so. for now, just sit there like a good little fuck doll and let me play with your pussy.”

you just whimpered mindlessly, too focused on the vibrator fucking you to fully comprehend his words.

“alright then.. now.. take it, cara.”

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#holiday hoes event #ghost bc #papa copia x reader #papa copia #copia smut #copia x reader #the band ghost #the band ghost smut #ghost bc smut #ghost bc x reader #papa emeritus smut #papa emeritus iv #papa emeritus iv x reader #smutty drabble #christmas #christmas prompts

[invidiia]

❐ - yandere!dazai comforting his darling who's afraid of thunderstorms

note ; hey florida weather, what the fuck?? what happened to our sunny summer?? anyway, it's thundering here pretty badly and scaring my dog and i, so let's do this!! short cause my brain went sooo blank, i think i'll do a chuuya version sometime soon thoughh

warning ; soft-ish!yandere!!! implied kidnapped reader 🥹 so sorry to anyone who was hoping for normal hcs about this LOL!! i condone NONE of this irl.

masterlist - rules - previous

dazai often kept you home while he worked late. it was unusual, actually - he normally came home as soon as possible, even trying to get off work early because he has something else to do.. but he really just wants to see your face.

it was a bad night, really, he was kept inside the agency building while rain poured down roughly on the sidewalks. with just an umbrella, dazai tried to get to his place the fastest he could while you were curled up in a blanket waiting for the loud thunder to subside.

the thunderstorms in yokohama weren't terrible, but this one in particular made you just want to crawl under the tables and not come out until it was over.

so when dazai unlocked the door and opened it, he half expected you to run to him because he knew that the loud, inconvenient noises of the thunder bothered you, which was why he always tried not to make loud noises when he was with you.

he understood, too - he wasn't the biggest fan of thunder, but he didn't mind it. the only other reason he didn't like it was because it scared you. dazai would do something about the weather if he could, he'd do it in a heartbeat - but he couldn't, so he could try to console you instead.

dazai entered his home slowly, closing the door quickly behind him and locking it, just to be safe. he didn't full trust you, after all.

but he was quick to notice how instead of doing anything, you were on the sofa in the corner, curled in a blanket while covering your ears. usually, you'd hear when dazai came home, but this time, you only realized he was there because the door opened next to you.

"my dear, what's wrong? i'm here, the thunder can't hurt you.. what? don't look at me like that. nothing can possibly stain your beauty.. but i can't stand to see you upset, belladonna. i just love you!"

dazai was right, thunder couldn't harm you.. i mean, lightning could, but that wasn't really the issue at hand. the taller man bent down, grabbing your chin and pinching your face with his other hand. he thought you were just so cute when you were scared.

you did try to evade his touch - but lightning struck again, and seconds later, you heard a loud bang. dazai took his hands off your face and reached to hug you, but the thunder had shaken you up, causing you to jerk forward and into his arms. correction.. his chest, since he was taller, and standing up.

"ah, you're hugging me, darling, i thought this day would never come-!" dazai laughed, wrapping his arms around your frame and holding you closer, even while you tried to pull back after realizing that you were hugging him.

you wanted to yell at him to shut up - but another lightning bolt had struck, creating another loud noise. maybe it was nice, being held like this. it caused you to just hug him tighter. dazai just laughed at you, kissing the top of your head before sitting down next to you, pulling you down a bit so you could lay in his lap. he hadn't bothered taking his coat off, but it wasn't an issue.

he didn't do anything else.. he just sat there. his touch wasn't awful. maybe it wasn't that bad.

you and dazai sat there in silence. he would have commented on how you didn't do anything to get out of his hold, but he didn't want to spoil the moment. he didn't, and neither did you. it was somewhat comforting.

a/n: my mind went sooo blank after this, please forgive mee

#tw yandere #tw kidnapping #klya..writes #bsd x reader #yandere bsd x reader #yandere bungo stray dogs x reader #yandere dazai #yandere dazai x reader #yandere osamu dazai #dazai x reader

[hwalilac]

Ateez Kinks

⇴ a/n: I do not know Atz personally, nor am I trying to say that any of this is truthful. I am only guessing based off their personality, and my experiences with them and their content.

Hongjoong

Exhib: Although he’s possessive of his lover, he also loves the idea of one of his members walking in on you two having intimacy. Mostly because he loves showing off that you’re only his to touch, the boys can look but not touch. However, part of him just likes being watched, knowing how powerful he is, loving intimidating those who watch.

Sp*nking: He adores disciplining you. Loves when you act like a privileged little brat so he can get it out of you. He’ll drag you over his lap, make sure your ass is bare so you’ll feel every slap, and make your ass tomato red. He especially loves pairing it with dirty talk, so once he’s done, he’ll find you soaking wet and leaking all over his thigh.

Seonghwa

DD /LG: Nothing to do with age, but more so taking care of his lover, sexually and romantically. He also gets off on being called “daddy”, though I think he would be okay with “mommy” as well. He’s also very good with his lovers that fall into sub space, treating them well and appropriately.

Impreg: Something about thinking of your tits filled with milk, stomach round and big, it makes him harder than he’s ever been before. Part of him wants to be a dad so badly, so there’s definitely a romantic part of the kink. However, he also just likes how hot you’d like being pregnant. Especially when he thinks about how you wouldn’t be very active when close to labor, so you’d just lay there and be ready for intimacy most of the time.

Yunho

Bo//ndage: He loves having complete and total power over you. The way you struggle getting out… it makes him hard instantly. Sometimes he’ll just leave you there, often with a vibrator attached to your clit, and have a camera recording you. He’ll also sit in a chair in the corner of the room, where the light doesn’t reach, watching to beg for him to touch you.

Sensory Deprivation: He loves putting a blindfold over your eyes. He loves the trust you put in him, to be able to control your body and senses. He’s often gentle when doing this kink, as to not overwhelm you too quickly. He mostly just lightly touches you, or uses a toy, but nothing serious. Sometimes he includes earbuds with music, but it’s not often.

Predator/Prey: Yunho feeds off of the power and dominance you give him. He loves playing hide and seek, especially at night. He always knows where you hide, but it’s fun to play regardless. Especially when you try running from him. He loves to catch you more than anything, pinning you down and taking you right where he finds you. You can resist all you want, but when he finds you, you’ll take what he gives you (unless you say your safe word, which Yunho would probably take a safe word the most seriously out of anyone)

Yeosang

Manhandling: I truly think he likes showing off his strength. Something about the way you check out his muscles, touching and squeezing his body. He loves impressing his lover. Then again, he also loves you being helpless, flailing around in his arms as he carry’s you into your bedroom only to ruin you. He loves the dominance he feels when you’re helpless like that, but he always checks in on you to see if you’re okay.

Voyeur: He often likes to watch or listen to other members fucking their lovers. He really doesn’t want to be creepy, but something about watching the dynamic of two lovers, especially when it’s dom/sub stuff, he just gets so turned on. He’ll be standing outside of Seonghwa or Hongjoong’s doors, quietly groaning with his hand on his hard on.

San

Shibari: Not only does he loves creating art, but he just loves watching you struggle in the ropes once you’re too turned on. Loves pressing a vibrating wand against you and watch you squirm. But the art… there’s nothing like finishing a difficult, yet beautiful piece on you. And then he’ll take a picture to get off to later on.

Edging: He LOVES edging his lover. It’s like a game to him, something he needs to win. This man will edge you for hours upon hours. However, he’s very careful not to push you too far. He’s not too rough on you. But once you cum, you practically black out, your orgasm being so powerful. He knows how to get you there in seconds, but also in hours.

Mingi

Oral: Not exactly a kink, but he gets off on it like a kink. He loves burying his face in your cunt, sloppily licking and sucking. He practically gets drunk on cunt. It makes him so painfully hard, he ends up rutting on the bed while trying to get you to your orgasm. He doesn’t tease though, knowing you would whine or just shove his face back in your core.

Overstim: He loves having your hand wrapped around his cock, pumping him until he can’t cum anymore. He loves putting his trust in someone else, and being taken care of. He can often go for a long time, but needs breaks. He usually gets so sleepy that he needs a lot of aftercare.

Wooyoung

Overstim: Same with Mingi, he loves having the sensation overwhelm him to the point where he’s begging and almost crying. Sometimes he’ll even do it to himself, legs shaking violently at the pleasure and pain. He’ll usually do it until he ends up with over three orgasms.

Edging: Wooyoung also loves teasing his lover. Sometimes he takes you to the very edge, loving the way you cry and beg for his mercy. Unlike San, he’s not as careful. He’s quite mean in bed, not only edging you physically, but patronizing you verbally. His dirty talk certainly helps get you there, but he’s genius at knowing when you’re about to cum.

Roleplay: He just loves thinking of the most fun, yet weird scenarios to try out. His favorite is always being a CEO, who fucks their secretary. He’s always wanting to try something new, up to most scenarios. Not very into pet play, although he will play the owner if his lover wants to be his little slutty kitten or puppy.

Jongho

Manhandling: Jongho can’t help but dig his hands into a pair of thick thighs, lift his lover up and through them onto the bed. Couch, even. He always makes sure you’re safe, though. But there’s nothing like showing off his amazing strength, and watching your tits bounce after you land. He loves exuding power over you, and his strength is one of the ways to remain on top and be dominant.

Breath Play/Choking: Again, something about the power you give him, the dominance he uses to not only pleasure you, but to love and protect you. If you want to be choked, he’d do it in a heartbeat, staying up all night finding the safest yet most pleasurable way to do it. His hand on your neck, he loves fucking you while doing it. Loves bringing you to the edge, so your orgasm is even more powerful and overwhelming.

I do not give permission for anyone to repost my work

#ateez smut #ateez #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez reactions #ateez fic #ateez suggestive #kpop smut #seonghwa #Hongjoong #yeosang #Yunho #Choi San #mingi #Wooyoung #Jongho

[seresinhangmanjake]

What Once He Had

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x female reader

Summary: Jake finally gets to be with you, and the two of you have been doing pretty well for a month. Great, actually, despite not being an official couple. But then he wakes one day and you’re gone. 

Notes: Can definitely be read alone, but it’s also another prequel-type thing for the Dad!Jake fic Oh, Baby.  Fluffy, angsty. Jakey-boy is super duper in love. full Oh, Baby chronology in Masterlist.

Warnings: 18 + MDNI, smut, oral (female receiving), p in v (please wear condoms), cursing. Uhhhh that might be it :)

Words: 1340

Oh, Baby Masterlist / Masterlist

Prequel Part 1, Prequel Part 3

----

When he thought about loving you, he thought about the past; all the moments you’d given him that led to his eventual descent—that deep well of his feelings for you that he never cared to crawl his way out of. He liked loving you. He liked the touches and whispers and the glint that took root in your eye whenever he called you Honey. He liked your moans and whimpers that burst through your lips from his carefully placed fingers and tongue. He liked knowing exactly what to do to make you feel good; bringing life to your body as you did for his. 

But out of his control was his love. His love for you. His love for making love to you. He needed it and craved it and couldn’t stop his desperation. And when he couldn’t control his own love, of course, he couldn’t control yours. But he didn’t think he needed to. He thought he already had it. 

Thought. Believed. Wanted it so badly that he convinced himself something was there which was not. And you proved it when you left him without a trace, punching a gaping hole through his heart and out the back of his body as if it were the simplest of acts. You were gone so fast, in such a wraith-like manner that on certain nights, the darkest of them, he wondered if you even existed at all. 

—--

Before: 

“Rooster was right. You are a princess,” he spoke through raspy breaths, calling on the nickname his friend had given you in a drunken haze a month prior. “My needy princess.”

You whimpered when his tongue once again slid through your folds, flicking at your clit before repeating the movement again and again and again until your back was creating a beautiful arch and tears were starting to steam down your flushed cheeks. 

“I could have you all day. Stay right between these pretty thighs.”

Those whimpers developed into cries, sharp and biting through the wet sounds of his mouth at your core when he stretched you with two thick fingers. They worked you, in and out at an even pace as his other hand pressed down on your lower belly. 

“I–I can’t a-again.”

He barely heard it. It was a whisper as much as a plea for relief, for freedom. 

“You can,” he growled, his lips grazing over you, each word a puff of soft heat caressing sensitive flesh. “And you will.”

“Jake, pl–” You choked on the word when his fingers curled just right. He knew the spot, could find it in a half-second if he needed to, but sometimes he liked playing. He too much enjoyed pulling the pleasure out of you slowly, savoring the feel of you clenching around him. First his fingers. Then his cock. “Please just—”

He sucked the breath from your lungs in time with his sucking on your clit, his lips wrapped around your little bud, tongue swirling, tasting, falling deeper in love with your pussy just as he had fallen for your face, your voice, your soul, your heart. 

This was the fourth time you’d found yourselves in bed together and with each chance you gave him, he did his best to prove himself, to be better than anyone else you let have a piece of your body. You liked having one another this way—that was undeniable—and in the beginning, he never wanted to allow the assumption that it was permanent to weasel its way into his brain. But this wasn’t the beginning anymore. A month had passed, and those crafted dirty thoughts of you he had stroked himself to for over a year were now backed with living proof. He was addicted. He was in love with you. So how could he ever give you up?

That wasn’t a question he entertained. There wasn’t a point. It had one answer—such a solid one—with no room for negotiation. And he didn’t plan on ever facing a day when that question would matter anyway. He had his woman. You were it for him, and he knew that if you just kept going the way you were, you’d make him your man. 

“W-Wait,” you muttered, your hand tugging harder at his mussed hair until he stopped. “Jake. Inside.”

He quirked a brow. “Yea, Honey?”

Your eyes were still screwed shut when he began to crawl up your body. He untangled your fingers from his hair and brought your palm to his mouth to kiss before helping you wrap your arm around his neck. 

Drawing a trail of short licks and kisses up your throat to your chin, he mumbled, “Say it again.”

Your eyelids slowly blinked open, your gaze locking onto his. “I want you inside me, Jake.”

A smile spread across his face and he leaned down to press his lips to your forehead, then your nose. “Well aren’t you sweet,” he whispered as he trapped your bottom lip between his, lightly nibbling. 

And he was right. You were fucking sweet. Every bit of you. 

Reaching an arm down, he tucked his hand under your knee and folded your leg forward, giving him the perfect angle to shove himself deep inside you the way you liked. The way he liked. Your curse mingled with his, and Jake stilled to let you adjust to his size as he got used to the tightness of your walls. Tried to, that is. Nothing else felt like you, and he wasn’t sure getting used to you was possible.

You know I love you—that’s what he wanted to say. I love you and I'm here and I’ll always be here. It was practically clawing at his throat for release, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. It was too soon. 

“Can I move, Honey?” 

You answered him by tightening your arms around his neck and cinching your legs around his waist. 

He lightly chuckled against the line of your jaw. Then he shifted his hips back before driving forward again. 

—--

Waking without you by his side felt like a joke. You were usually snuggled into his chest with one of his arms draped over your waist and the other tucked under your head as a pillow, slowly forcing it into numbness. Your exhales always tickled his chest hairs and your legs woven with his upped his body temperature by five degrees, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. And before this morning, it hadn’t been any other way. 

Thinking hard, he vaguely recalled opening his eyes in the night to find the bathroom light on. He thought he’d heard you getting sick, but when he called your name you’d told him to go back to sleep. The water ran, the sound of you spitting into the sink following shortly after. He wanted to check on you, but he’d been too out of it, too fuzzy-brained from your sex, and you had sworn you were fine. Within moments, you were back in his arms and all was right again. He didn’t question it. 

He should’ve questioned it. 

Your clothes that had carpeted his bedroom floor were gone; your phone was no longer on the nightstand beside his. He almost feared getting out of bed, knowing that if he did, he’d have to go downstairs to where you might not be. If he stayed under the duvet he could pretend you were in the kitchen making coffee, buttoned up in his shirt and waiting for him to join you.

He didn’t find you, though. He didn’t get to ask, or kiss you once you explained.

But inside, he knew. You were gone, and it didn’t make sense. That wasn’t how the two of you worked, but it would be fine because he was going to find you and ask you what happened and kiss you over the silly misunderstanding. 

He wasn’t given that chance.

A/N: To anyone who hasn’t read Oh, Baby, I’d suggest doing so for a happier ending :) Hope you enjoyed anyway!

tags: @nobody7102​ @fangirlingoverfangirls @blue-aconite @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @dempy @chaoticassidy @alana4610 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @dracosluvbot @smoothdogsgirl @smit41 @wkndwlff @rileyloves5 @gigisimsonmars @hangmanbrainrot @withakindheartx @teacupsandtopgun @himbos-on-ice @xoxabs88xox @happypopcornprincess @violyn20 @jordanturpen @buckymcu12 @jerseybagel @nagygreta @rintheemolion @coldmuffinbanditshoe @avengersgirllorianna @oliviah-25 @talkfastromance4 @ysl-bby @chibijusstuff @kmsryles343 @sometimesicryintheshower @cookielovesbook-akie @yanna-banana @taylahk109 @buxkybarnez @elijahmikaelsonbitch @ravenhood2792 @potato-girl99981 @eccentricnos @kembry107 @pono-pura-vida @topguncultleader @v0id-chaos @scrappybear89 @stiles-banshees @audri_janis @jake-seresins-girl @caidi-paris @sass-masterkittenmama @phantom_xoxo @dpaccione @blueoorchid 

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x female!reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun maverick #top gun hangman #top gun fanfic #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick hangman #glen powell #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin angst #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman #jake hangman x reader #tgm

[i-want-my-iwtv]

I will be delusional as I want BUT I'll pretend that tom cruise going back to Warner Bros means we'll finally get the deleted scenes from the iwtv please please manifesting

🙏🙏🙏 Anon, embrace being delusional! I wish! If anyone's connected with Warner Bros please please tell them we want the deleted scenes!

Anyway since we're on the topic... over the years I've talked about wanting the cut scenes, and I wanted to reflect for a moment on why we want them. I think we want them because, like a delicious cake, once it's all consumed, we still look at the serving plate, hoping we can still lick the icing off the knife, or maybe the baker has some leftover cake back in the kitchen?? Or maybe they can tell us that the secret ingredient to intensifying the chocolate is ESPRESSO... We just want another taste so badly! We want to know the secret ingredients that set it apart from other cakes. And some filmmakers know that, and sometimes they're happy to share the cut scenes on a DVD release, maybe with commentary as to why the scenes were cut, like:

"Here's a scene were Louis kills a priest and ultimately we had an overall run time limit of 2 hours, but it was otherwise a perfectly good scene."

"Here's part of a set of scenes we shot early on where Lestat shows mortal Louis what killing entails, and although we loved it, we ended up improving the Lestat makeup & hair a few weeks later, and for the sake of continuity we had to cut it bc we couldn't go back to that location to reshoot, or it would have taken too much time to fix in post, etc."

Giving over the cut scenes is a little like an artist showing the scrapped versions of a painting composition, and that's fine when the creator wants to invite the viewers into their artistic process, but I think the IWTV filmmakers at the time (and for years after) really wanted the '94 movie to be serious* to the point that releasing cut scenes could have undermined their overall vision... maybe they simply didn't want to invite the audience into their creative process.

(*Serious, BUT there was certainly plenty of beauty, charm, dark humor, intimacy, desire, so much more! Maybe the filmmakers cut scenes that THEY felt didn't mesh well with the overall story they wanted to tell, like putting together an outfit and choosing accessories that go better rather than others... you know?)

WITH THAT SAID... What cut scenes would you have liked to see? That's what fanfic and fanart are for, so tell us and maybe someone will be inspired to create it for all of us 💝

IF Tom was still part of VC at all... one of my personal fantasy casting ideas was to have Tom play the Marquis in TVL, and now he's really old enough to do it! 😅 Can you imagine?? Tom playing his own horrible father! Cast younger actors to play kid!Lestat, teen!Lestat, etc.?? Tom!Marquis showing obvious preference for his two older brothers and being horrible to Gabrielle... it could be amazing.

Obviously it wouldn't be adorable like this but... I've always loved Tom Cruise characters when he interacts with kids and teens, he's always seemed very in touch with his inner child, even when that inner child is more of a 12 yo brat. Whole novels could be written on his layered performances with child and teen actors, but for now, just a few thoughts...

^From Jerry Maguire. I can't quite articulate why this was so compelling... iirc, maybe because his character is really frustrated/demoralized in this scene, and there's something comforting about a kid naively telling you that "the human head weighs 8 pounds," as if to say, "Your problems are not really as big a deal as you think they are; live in the present moment." And Tom in this character seems to absorb that deeper meaning and it gives him some relief, it's a step towards his character's growth.

When Tom played Ray in War of the Worlds, he had a teenage son, and there was a heartbreaking scene where Ray had to choose between protecting his son or his daughter. From That Moment In:

Desperate to keep his family together, Ray is forced to leave the terrified Rachel alone for a moment as he puts his weight on Robbie and forces him to the ground as the air around them lights up with smoke and tracer fire. Meanwhile, another couple, fleeing the madness, sees Rachel standing by herself and attempt to rescue her, not knowing that her father is nearby. Looking back, Ray sees this and becomes torn between his children, not wanting to lose either but forced to choose. Robbie assures his father that this is what he wants, “I want to see this,” and to please let him go, which Ray finally, achingly, submits to, seeing that Rachel is being whisked away. Father and son say goodbye as Robbie runs over the crest and Ray rushes down to get his daughter as a hellfire of explosion overtake the hills, giving us the impression Robbie has met his end.

I just love the idea of Tom playing the very character that had caused so much pain for Lestat, that Lestat was always on defense from that man, looooong after he died. Despite all the torment the Marquis inflicted on Lestat, Lestat still gave him a comfortable place to live out his last few years, the roles pretty much reversed as happens with aging parents, Lestat actually nurturing this man (not always in the kindest way but still!) in his feeble old age... and couldn't bring himself to even kill him out of mercy.

Nature & Nurture, Lestat was damaged by his father genetically and emotionally in his formative years, and so much of Lestat's bravado and verbal attacks seem to be a shield for the awful feelings of growing up unloved, unwanted, and beaten for expressing his own desires. So much so that even in canon he often expresses the intensity of his desires far more eloquently and frequently in the narration than he's able to do verbally, even with the characters he cherishes the most. Because to express his love exposed himself to losing it.

Tom could for sure pull off a performance that would capture the Marquis, because he essentially played Lestat with the qualities of a victim perpetuating some of the abuse he suffered from the man who was supposed to be (and was!) his role model for becoming the man he became. 😭

#vampire chronicles #marquis de lioncourt #anon #cut scenes #vc casting #tom cruise #i love him your honor #war of the worlds #ray ferrier #robbie ferrier #That Moment In #iwantmyiwtv has opinions #meta analysis #not really but kinda sorta #Jerry Maguire #on ACTING #ask #aw that was fun to answer an ask again maybe I'll do some more #lestat #lestat de lioncourt #the vampire lestat #smtg smtg the act of Lestat restoring and updating the castle years later smtg smtg about how he didn't turn into his father smtg smtg

[electrosweaters-arts]

PLEASE- PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD GIVE ME YOUR HYDE X ADAM HEADCANONS! I HAVE BEEN OBSESSED WOTH THIS WEIRD CRACKSHIP FOREVER SO PLZ GIVE ME YOUR HEADCANONS

FINALLY THE PEOPLE UNDERSTAND HOW PERFECT THEY ARE FOR EACH OTHER <3 GAHHH I TALK ABOUT THEM SO MUCH ITS HARD TO EVEN THINK OF WHAT HEADCANONS TO TALK ABOUT

Fucked up that you can get banned from tumblr for saying what Adam and Hyde are doing to each other but I will try

First of all, their ship name is Creationshipping <3 @lonely-space-egg came up with it and I'm obsessed with it thank you Peri

They're in an open/polyamorous relationship and Hyde is also dating Utterson, hi Utterson \O. Adam and Utterson are very good friends <3

Hyde loves when Adam holds him but usually he won't ask to be and will instead just start trying to climb up Adam until he picks him up.

Adam is incredibly encouraging of all Hyde's indulgences, they both encourage each other to act without worrying what others think and to Adam? Hyde can commit a few felonies, as a treat. It's cute

Hyde initially avoided telling Adam that he was a scientist since he was afraid Adam would take it badly due to his relationship with Victor

Adam loves animals but animals HATE Hyde so he makes sure to keep them away from him for both their safety. He tried to keep a pet rabbit once and Hyde had to get 30 stitches

Adam is one of the only people Hyde has spilled his entire life story to, along with all the trauma of his childhood has Jekyll and nuances of his relationships with his family and friends, and all the pressure and stress and guilt that lead up to him creating Hyde in the first place. He actually surprised himself with how quickly he opened up to Adam but he just seemed like he could understand on a level no one else could, and he did <3

Hyde has a constant fear of abandonment and sneaks some of Adam's clothing out with him whenever he leaves so he can sniff it if he's feeling lonely. Adam noticed and started leaving out gym clothes for him.

Adam sometimes bends down to Hyde's level in public and whispers something that makes Hyde burst out laughing, falling on the ground and everything, making a scene.

Hyde has trouble sleeping because his form causes him to have a ton of increased adrenaline at all times, but Adam's tired he lets him hold him while he sleeps and Hyde spends pretty much the entire time awake and wide-eyed staring at the wall.

When Hyde does sleep he is a BED HOG, he somehow takes up more space than an 8 foot tall man and sleeps with all of his limbs out. He also takes all the blankets only to then ball them up underneath his feet.

Sometimes Hyde just wordlessly plops his entire body weight onto Adam and they lay like that for hours not saying a word

Hyde was a bit uneasy at first finding out about Adam's interest in religion but he actually ended up being an incredibly good source of comfort whenever Hyde would spiral due to his religious trauma

Adam likes to sing little songs to Hyde when they're alone <3

Usually when they fight it's a result of Hyde getting too riled up or overwhelmed and he storms off somewhere, only to come back later once he's calmed down and plonk down like this so they can actually talk about it (doodle by @internetwerewolf )

More specific to CC but Hyde buys all of Adam's clothes for him and pays for pretty much anything he needs, partly just to treat him right and partly just because he doesn't want him leaving to go work all the time

And some for Jekyll-sided Creationshipping <3

Jekyll likes to trace his fingers along Adam's stitching, usually he does it absentmindedly while theyre just cuddling/talking but sometimes he gets completely lost in thought studying them. He finds them beautiful and they're one of Adam's biggest insecurities but he's allowed to touch them <3

Adam teases Jekyll way more than he does Hyde, he likes how overblown his reactions get to it

Jekyll really likes the deep pressure stim Adam holding him gives when he's having a meltdown. they are so autism4autism

^ also Hyde does this.

#im literally right on all of these by the way and no one is allowed to tell me otherwise #i know about them #edward hyde #mr hyde #adam frankenstein #the creature #frankenstein #creationshiipping #hyde x the creature #hyde x adam #jekyll and hyde #dr jekyll and mr hyde #cryptid college stuff #asks

[monstersinthecosmos]

20 Qs for fic writers

Tagged by @jacqulinetan

1. How many works do you have on A03? 46 public, 3 private, 2 anon.

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 692, 623!

3. What fandoms do you write for? VC and Sheith with a few YOI fics thrown in. 😊

4. What are your top five fics by kudos? Star Eater, THE FRONT, Tonight the Stars Revolt!, Wayfinder, and Zero Hour!

5. Do you respond to comments? YES! I only share fics because I want comments lmfao. I want to talk to you!!! Sometimes I do like a quarterly roundup so I let them pile up and then answer them all every 3 months lol but I do try to reply to everybody!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I think for Sheith it’s C O A G V L A and for VC it’s The Lotus Eater or Gallows Bird? (The Lotus Eater and Gallows Bird have the Armand & Marius versions of the same ending bc Gallows Bird was a TLE remix LOL) Sfaíra Ti̱s Fo̱tiás also has a really bleak ending but it’s a PWP so it doesn’t hurt me as bad LOL.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? For Sheith it’s THE FRONT I think? For VC idk maybe Right Where it Belongs or In the Trials of the Heart?

8. Do you get hate on fics? I’ve gotten a lot of hate in fandom at large but never really got flagrant hate in an AO3 comment. I do occasionally get a rude unsolicited critique and I like to use that as an opportunity to write meta about why my decision was correct LOL

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I only write smut, thanks! WHAT KIND? idk I lean into BDSM but there's a few that aren't BDSM. I also write canon-compliant VC smut so it's either a vampire servicing a human or me trying to make blood drinking sound as horny as possible.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? I used to when I was a teenager on my old accounts but it doesn’t really interest me anymore outside of like maybe a cute lil homage Easter Egg or something.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? I don’t think so!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? No!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? I haven’t co-written in a long time but I used to! One of my fav fics from high school was written with my best friend where we alternated chapters and it was so much fun!  

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? Sheith and Marius/Armand and Armand/Daniel and Marius/Pandora !!!!!!!!!!!!!! Those are my fav ships to WRITE, I don’t really read a lot of VC though. I have lots of other fav ships to read.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I don’t start stuff that I won’t finish adsgjl when I was in high school my FFnet page was a DISASTER just like 60 fics, none of them finished, and so when I returned to fic writing using AO3 I promise myself not to post stuff that I wasn’t confident I’d finish. Ideally I don’t even begin sharing something until it’s finished but TTSR was an exception bc it started as a PWP and got out of hand.

16. What are your writing strengths? I get complimented the most on tension and pacing! Also on emotional meta like characters' behavior around trauma.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I really wish I was better at writing long fics. It’s been a goal of mine forever and I’ve gotten a little better but I’m not where I want to be.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? Gjkaldsg I don’t think it’s necessary and often comes off as cheesy unless it serves a real purpose. I've seen it done really well before! (Clap When You Land by Elizabeth Acevedo came to mind!) And I think we’ve all seen this done badly enough in fanfic to kind of learn what not to do. I think there are times when the beauty and cadence of another language can add texture or say something that you simply can’t say in the default language, I also think it can be used to create a distance between the characters, even between the reader and the character. I used a lot of Latin in So Falls the World for example, because Marius and Pandora are reciting an ancient poem to each other, and it was important to me to leave it in Latin because I wanted to communicate their age, that they’re clinging to something archaic because it’s familiar to them, when it’s incongruous to the world around them and also the text around them. Same with the misinterpretation of silence and its disastrous consequences, where Louis is reciting a French poem. I mean do we assume that Louis and Lestat speak French to each other at home anyway? But putting the poem in the original language AT LEAST FOR ME created a sense that Louis is playing a role, that it’s something outside of himself. Basically I think media does this all the time and we are smart enough to know that the language we’re consuming might not be the language the characters are actually speaking, we all know that! So the question is, when people sprinkle random words into their stories or dialogue, I ask: What purpose did this serve? Is this how bilingual people actually talk? Is it written for bilingual readers as a shared experience or is it meant to confuse monolingual readers for effect? Is it used sparingly to add texture, is it just a fun word that you want to use? Do whatever you want but I think we need to ask ourselves these questions before writing something that’s a sloppy mess at best, and a racist caricature at worst!

19. First fandom you wrote for? Pro wrestling =P

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? Tonight the Stars Revolt! is my fav Sheith fic, it’s like my magnus opus that I do all my meta work for, everything I’ve thought deeply about was ultimately for this fic, I HAVENT UPDATED IT IN ALMOST 2 YEARS IM REALLY SORRY LIFE KINDA GOT AWAY FROM ME IT’S BEEN HECTIC but I think about it constantly, more than you know, I have 3 playlists for it that I listen to all the time, it’s just always on my mind. For VC it used to be So Falls the World but now that I wrote Gallows Bird I think it’s that, too. I can’t tell if it’s because Gallows Bird is just newer and less sloppy LOL but jkdlhakjgsd I THINK I AVOIDED WRITING MARIUS FIC FOR A LONG TIME BC I WAS INTIMIDATED BUT THE TIMES I DO WRITE HIM I HAVE SUCH A BLAST and I just love him so much!

TAGGING: @hekateinhell @apoptoses @mothmage @nothing-but-paisley @covenofthearticulate @lovevamp @bubblegum-blackwood & EVERYONE ELSE

#stuff i wrote

[helluva-dump]

You know despite doing things with Adam and Lucy… I’ve grown to really enjoy writing stuff with another broken relationship.😂

Because I’ve been invested with the Bible folklore (mainly angelnology and demonology), I read more things about Ariel as well as Mammon that gave me an idea. Since Ariel not only is the Angel of nature but she’s also an Angel of prosperity where Mammon is the sin of Greed… and I thought “oooo what if she was his ex gf”

That Ariel and Mammon used to be lovers at one point when God first created the angels. Now in my headcanon, not all of the Helluva boss sins are arch angels… I think some were just regular angels like Mammon. Though in the vibe folklore it varies, but I had this thought he was just a regular Angel that went through struggles.

And when Ariel met him, she really felt so bad and offered some of her prosperity to help him get basic needs, like food, clothes, and shelter. The two of them start to hit it off and developed romantic feelings for each other.

Though God didn’t approve their relationship since he could sense something off with Mammon… Mainly anytime he is around the riches of gold they offer to help others… Mammon consumed more and more where it started to slowly corrupt him… he would always guilt trip Ariel and pressure her to grant him more of her wealth for “self love and comfort” because he’s depressed.

At one point, when she granted some wealth to poor angels and those that are struggling, Mammon WAS SO FURIOUS. He was so angry that she gave most of the wealth to those below them that he just BADLY wanted it all to himself. And they got into heated arguments over it to the point where Ariel banished him from the holy treasure, due to how it corrupted him.

And of course he got so angry and bitter that to prove he wants a selfish greedy sinner… He used that gold to make her a beautiful treasure as his offer in marriage… the only thing she had to do was join his rebellion with Lucifer to rebel against God and grant him more riches.

And we all know how that worked out at the end 😂 Ariel was too kind and compassionate to ever even stoop his low of hoarding money he didn’t need. And this lead to a massive fallout with them both, but it lead to consequences of the future of churches and Christians.

You know how sadly some preachers end up being greedy and use charity money for yatches and other things? Or why there’s so many republicans in Christianity? Let’s say because Ariel has romance with Mammon, the greed badly tainted her prosperity. Which lead to the downfall of humans being trained with greed, even in Christian spaces.

Like Azreal, Ariel too made a mistake. And she had to pay the price for this mistake she caused. God was stern with her and wasn’t happy about her affair, but she did promise him to face consequences for her actions. And that is paying a lot of of taxes for working angels and giving wealth to those charities. And somehow it did help her heal, she even went to confession and did things to help her heal from that tainted relationship.

Where Mammon on the other hand, still whines and bitches about Ariel to this day. He made up a false narrative how she BANNED him from Heaven and threw him under the bus. And how she “screw him over” all because she rejected his proposal, offer, and no longer wanted to grant him riches.

Since the show shows how misogynistic Mammon is, I headcanon he thinks less of women all because of Ariel. Especially after Ariel felt comfortable being trans, she used to make jokes before while taking a jab at greedy people and Mammon took it as a personal attack. (Much like how Contrapoints would make funny skits to de radicalize alt righters, that’s what I imagine Ariel doing with some male angels )

They sometimes counter each other over big events such as nature protests, or if they need Ariel to purge sinners that caused damage to environments for greed.

So what Lilith was to Adam, Ariel is to Mammon.

#hazbin hotel #helluva boss #Hazbin hotel ocs #helluva boss ocs #mammon #mammon helluva boss #oc x canon #we’ll kind of oc x canon but they’re exes #they’ll never get back together #my art #my artworks

[butch-reidentified]

There are many great things about being a woman. Woman have a lot more value than just being weaker men, which is what the media of today seems to be telling us to be, with a few exceptions. But we've actually got something unique and important to offer the world that men do not have, and we can do things that they cannot do or would do very badly.

Femininity is the ability to create nurture life, at least in the vast majority of cases. Femininity exists in the first place to be able to grow something and care for it until it becomes beautiful. This expresses itself in a multitude of ways and not just with women, unless of course you're talking about childbirth. But apart from that femininity is not exclusively a female thing, though there is a heavy correlation.

Before I move onto the next bit of what I want to say, I want to define the word desecration. Desecration is the act of depriving something of its sacred character or the disrespectful contemptuous or destructive treatment of that which is held to be sacred.

The desecration of motherhood and femininity that is common place today is disgusting. It's like the world is spitting at the vulnerability that motherhood and femininity require, calling it weak and silly.

Vulnerability is not the same as weakness. It requires immense courage to be vulnerable because it is terrifying.

Woman are naturally more vulnerable than men for obvious reasons. Sometimes woman have to willingly make themselves vulnerable in a way that men never have to do. Pregnancy would be one of those times, but not the only time.

Vulnerability can be incredibly powerful, it doesn't just require courage to do, it can also be powerful in of itself. It can completely take the wind out of someone's sails in a way approaching them combatively may not have done, and you have to be brave in the first place because you're accepting you might get hurt and just having faith that you won't be.

You can't nurture something without being vulnerable because nurturing requires openness which requires which requires vulnerability which requires courage. It's not weakness because weakness is cowardice. Weakness is useless, vulnerability is not useless, it's necessary, that makes it not weak. The ability to nurture something is valuable, because without it there would be no life without it.

Growing something requires subtlety and intuition, you can't just go hammering at it. That would be silly, which is why femininity is better suited to those purposes.

The ability to create and nurture life is so important because there would be no life without it. Beauty is life and life is beautiful.

Medicine, law, business and engineering. These are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life, but poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. Isn't beauty just life celebrating itself?

You shouldn't feel weak or lesser because you feel you're naturally feminine, and you do not have to become masculine in order to be valuable or worthy or strong. If you don't fit into the masculine idea of strength or success or power, that does not make you lesser.

If you can grow and sustain life and care for things, that is valuable and important and you must treasure it. Being feminine doesn't mean you have to keep your head down and be meek and sweet and let people walk all over you.

Womanhood generally involves a lot of blood and pain even if or before you give birth, and none of that is weakness. Growing things is panful and requires sacrifice and strength as much as softness. You'll grow something weak if you're not strong and you don't have some grit about you. You can't grow a strong upright tree on earth that crumbles

this better be one of those anons that gets spammed to a bunch of ppl bc i don't see how this remotely applies to me or anything I've said on here.

also. what are you even saying? this is all over the place

#mine #ask #anon ask #anon