thinking fondly about ywbk distant future where hyj and ymw are pals with mha (all happy to have friends closer in age than the Old Man Brigade and the Baby Brigade) and mha and hyj gang up on ymw and beg him to make all sorts of weird items with random effects when he complains about only making weapons or armor all the time. he made mha a really sturdy tennis racket once at her request but they did not get a similarly reinforced ball so when she swung the racket at speed to hit a ball the strings sliced the ball into chunks and hyj who was watching from the sidelines lost his shit laughing so hard that he fell over
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Today’s vibe is strange. Maybe it’s just the January. January is like that.
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do you think i could get them to let me take the tests/books home and check them and bring them back before its time for those classes in the afternoon without having to like. Go to work for the whole day
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i really want to write a song one day
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i am now entering finals mode so very sorry i’m gonna be dead for approximately 12 days
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o.s. fresh, unwilting daisies
summary: carmen gets possessive after your ex boyfriend stops by and leaves you a bouquet of daisies (carmen berzatto x afab!reader)
reflection: wrote this yesterday and edited it today. i have received a few requests in my inbox if anyone is interested in leaving me some more, i'll get to those as soon as i can. let's relish in the collective carmy brain rot together <3 please enjoy and feedback is always appreciated!
warnings: cursing, cynicism, reader has an ex boyfriend, inner monologue, carmen's pov, filth, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, possessive!carmen, jealous!carmen, praise, multiple orgasms, use of "sweet girl," reader doesn't like daisies (they're pretty, let's pretend, sorry to all the daisy lovers), past relationship, donna mention, office setting, p in v sex, dom!carmen (please let me know if there are other warnings i need to add)
word count: 1,750
Stupid.
Stupid, stupid, stupid motherfucker. Who does he think he is? Waltzing into Carmen’s restaurant, the cuffs of his dirt infested denim jeans dragging over Carmen’s pristine floor, said denim jeans hanging low on his hips like an asshole who can’t even present himself to you as an individual who actually gives a fuck. Grant didn’t hold the common courtesy to put on a belt, and Carmen doesn’t believe the man owns one, but if he’s going to saunter in and try and request time with you, Carmen’s girlfriend, then he should at least be decent and dress like he’s attempting to win you back and not as if he just got home after a hard day’s work of laying down brick. Grant doesn’t have a job so that explanation for his asshole outfit and his asshole beanie and his asshole demeanor is not worth excusing him, especially not as he smugly leaned over Carmen’s counter and let his jacket covered elbows smear his Grant-ness all over the surface. Carmen had no choice but to wipe it down with high-grade sanitizer, scrubbing away as if he could scrub away Grant completely out of your and Carmen’s life, since they’re entangled with one another now whether Grant likes it or not.
Carmen shifts his tongue within you utilizing a bit more pressure, undulating the pink muscle in and out until he forms the shape of a well to scoop your slick and curl it into his fervent, perpetual mouth. He gulps you down into the back of his throat, exhaling against your folds at the satisfying, addicting drink equivalent to a desert traveler’s first and desperate swallow of refreshing water. Carmen breathes your scent since it permeates throughout his office space and your wetness coats his cheeks and the tip of his nose, inhaling and exhaling air that causes your thighs to twitch in his hands at the sensation. He ought to be kinder to you, you’re sensitive from the two orgasms he’s endlessly worked out of your cunt, and it’s not your fault Grant continues to be an annoying fixture in your atmosphere having denied his pleas time and time again, but every time Carmen locks eyes with Grant’s lazy, complacent gaze, Carmen feels a surge of jealousy within him compelling him to mark his territory and reinforce the notion of you being his and his alone. Sure, you dated Grant first, but in Carmen’s eyes, you belong to him like you’ve never belonged to anyone.
“Mine,” he utters, slipping his tongue out to lick his puffy, swollen lips clean, exposing his line of thinking as he presses a kiss to your clit, growling and slightly smirking to find the little button still pulsing for him with need. His fingernails dig into the meat of your thighs as you attempt to clamp them around his head, and normally he would let you, but he holds them spread and open for him so he can continue to lap you into the whining mess you’re becoming atop his desk. The downside is how each of those adoring and pleasant sounds are muffled due to your palm actively pressing down against your lips, “good girl” muttered because that’s what he told you to do for him when you started and you’ve done an excellent job of quieting yourself while he practically drowns himself in your cunt. He doesn’t miss the whimper you reward him with at the praise, his right hand generously kneading the flesh of your thigh as a sign that he’s almost done, to just hang on a touch longer and allow him his fill.
“One more,” he promises, “just one more for me, sweet girl, one more,” Carmen litters your pussy and inner thighs with kiss after kiss, stamps of pure affection to calm you down and ready you for his next onslaught. He peers up at you, noticing how your body is trembling just as much as your thighs are, half your ass hanging off the edge of his desk, your upper shoulders slumping partially into the wall behind. Poor thing. Close to sobbing, your eyes glassy from the tears of pleasure that never fall from them, your shirt riding up your stomach since he only bothered to take your pants off in his rush to have you when you came in to check up on him. You deserve his fingers, and he plays around with the idea of sliding them inside you, drumming them against your skin as he thinks about stuffing you with them as his mouth closes over your clit. He’s done it in the past, he knows it would drive you to that climax he currently craves in an instant, but from scanning your disheveled features and writhing frame, his crystal blues eventually attach to the vase of daisies at the side of the two of you, taunting him as they have this entire time.
The notecard sticking out flashes Grant’s name. You don’t even like daisies, you’ve told Carmen, but Grant used to get them for you when he fucked up numerous times throughout your relationship. No matter how much you hated to accept them and therefore reinforced the habit, you would always vase them and frown as they started to immediately die the next morning. That’s who Grant is. He didn’t bother to at least buy you fresh and lively daisies, but the ones right on the verge of dying. Today, months and months into your and Carmen’s relationship, Grant stopped by with vased daisies under the intent of getting you back and they’re actually fucking beautiful, Carmen admits, but they’re pissing him the fuck off. Every glance to them sitting there has brought about this carnal desire to part your legs further for him. The flowers are taunting him, milky and lemony, an assorted arrangement plopped into a blaring, golden vase that Carmen’s mother would definitely keep if she had been gifted it herself, muttering something about hidden treasures, son while storing it away in her cabinet’s hoarding of dishes and “fine china” she gathered from the thrift store. They’re nice. Too nice. Carmen should get you some flowers, he decides to himself, flowers that you would actually like without some underlying motive, simply because he cares about you and because he wants to see your smile light up when he personally hand delivers them.
Fucking Grant. His fucking daisies are taking up too much fucking space on Carmen’s desk and he hates it, he hates that he had to move them from the front of the restaurant into his office so they wouldn’t obstruct the customers, he hates the contents of the notecard begging you to be Grant’s again as if you were ever his in the first place.
“Mine,” Carmen grunts again, lapping up your slit with the full flat of his tongue, dragging it to relish in your taste, in the moan you choke out against your hand, his nose catching between your folds. He glances up at the flowers, the line “want you to be mine again” ringing in his ears from when you read the note aloud to him. Well, fuck you, Grant, he thinks, it’s his tongue and mouth on your cunt and it’s his cock that’s going to be plunging in and out of you tonight on his couch, in his bed, in the shower as you brace yourself with your hands planted on his tile walls.
Fucking cry over it, motherfucker. Fuck your flowers. I’m the one fucking her.
And something… miraculous(?) happens. A single petal falls from the flowers as Carmen licks at you. He watches it swish and sway through the air, descending down until it lands right next to his hand, right on top of your thigh, his thigh.
He pushes his head in further, yanking you by your (his) thighs to meet his mouth as he simultaneously swipes away the petal like it burned you. You squeak out in surprise, your opposite hand flying down to grip the curls in his hair as you sputter above him. Carmen seals his mouth over your clit, done with the teasing, done with his thoughts, and all he wants is to send you over that blissful edge he’s pushed you towards already, stroking you with rolls of his tongue and strong suckles of his suctioned lips. You don’t even last a minute, swaddled pleas of something resembling his name being cried out into your hand, your head bumping into the wall behind as you cream around nothing. He glances down, petting your cunt with merciful, languid brushes of his tongue, in awe of the mess you’re soaking out onto his desk. He drops his jaw lower to catch all of it, close to licking your essence right off the surface if it weren’t for how you’re currently teetering on it. Carmen stands up, unbuckling his belt hurriedly as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, your cunt’s release once on his lips and chin now transferred to the digits and knife tattooed over it.
“Wha-… Carmy?” You ask as you sit up, only for him to pull you by your hips back into position for him. You look so dazed, fucked out beyond belief, and as he manhandles you to spreading your thighs all over again, his elbow knocks the vase of daisies with enough force to send them crashing down to the floor. The glass breaks into scattered shards, causing you to jump, but Carmen doesn’t seem to have noticed. He’s just lining himself up and pushing straight through your walls, well lubricated with his spit and your cum, having been loved on long enough for your shared coworkers to begin questioning your and his whereabouts. You actually yelp this time, grasping at his broad shoulders as you adjust and clench around him. He latches his lips to yours to mute your noises, thrusting away, pounding the cunt belonging to him and no one else, growling as he bites at your bottom lip.
As he steps his feet apart from one another to open your knees up for extra access, glass crunches under his shoe, water splashing under the sole of the other, and a few daisies are crushed as he fucks you with a quickening pace. He’s not worried about it. He’ll get you some tulips or maybe some sunflowers, something pretty for you to look at as he has you bent over the kitchen table tomorrow morning.
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A Lick and a Promise
Chapter 1
Outlaw!Ghost x Female Reader x Outlaw!Soap
You let devils into your home. But why were they kinder than the saints in your town?
Warnings: MDNI, Arson, crude historical language (not by Ghoap), objectification (not by Ghoap), religious themes, small bit of fluff, period typical misogyny, kidnapping, implied physical abuse, sad backstory, implied theft, sorry if I missed any.
A Lick and a Promise Masterlist
Masterlist
Words: 2.5k
Fire…there was fire engulfing the town you were meant to call home. Flames erupted from the trees like the gates of hell had been opened. From where you are, you see the flames lick and dance around the wooden buildings as the horses race away from the chaos that was unfolding. The smell of fiery damnation was cementing itself into your mind, it engraved itself onto your skin like a branding. Everything hurt…
Hot air whipped against your bruised and beaten flesh while you continued to struggle on the horse you were forced on. The smoke stings. You hear their screams in the growing distance as the mayor's home is surrounded by dark clouds of smoke. Why? Why was this happening? Why did they take it so far?
You keep twisting your head back to watch from you were forced to ride with the men you foolishly helped the week prior. You continue watching as tears stream down your face. His arms are as tight as a vice despite you pounding your hands back on his thighs. He doesn't let go, he doesn't even flinch no matter how many times you scream, beg or hit him. Your small home grows further away by the second. The little life you built for yourself shattered in the time it takes to saddle a horse with stolen goods. The fast movements of the horse jerks you uncomfortably as you clench onto whatever you can to steady yourself. Everything was becoming too much, the screams, the fire, the smell of burning, the pain, your pain. Your eyes burn into the back of the man with the skull face. Never in your life have you seen a man beat another bloody like he had. The worst part was you felt relieved when it had happened. You felt safe with them even if that feeling only lasted briefly. But why did they want to protect you? Why did they care?
You had let devils enter your home. But these devils were kinder than the saints in town, yet you were deceived by their kindness. They took you without remorse. You don't know why you thought just because these two men were soft to each other that perhaps they'd be good people, perhaps they wouldn't hurt you like everyone else did. You should never have helped them. You should have told them to leave the second they had awoken. Look at where your kindness has gotten you. Kidnapped and probably on the road to your demise. You've become an outlaw by association. What were they going to do with you? Whore you out for money? Sell you to a ranch? Have their fun with you only to leave you drowned in a stream? Was their kindness just a ruse so you'd agree to help them in return for safety?
But in the back of your mind you wanted to believe they had your best interest at heart, that they weren't going to hurt you. That they were too kind to do that. Yet you'd be foolish to trust outlaws on the run again. They had dragged you to damnation with them. Now the whole town hates you even more than before. It won't be long until your face begins being printed on wanted posters…
-The week prior
The blazing sun was gradually making its way further up from the horizon. The sunshine beamed down on the river, making the blue water glitter and gleam on the surface as you watched on. The birds chirped as you enjoyed the warmth of the weather bestowed upon you.
Cold water prickles your hands as you tug the rope to gather the fish traps you had laid in the river yesterday. Thankfully it seemed heavy this time around. You’ll be able to make something for the poor men burning with fevers on your mattress. You hadn't wanted to leave them alone but you had work to do. You needed to gather water for their horses and collect your traps. The small vegetable patch also needed watering so you'd probably have to make another trip round to the river.
Once the dripping basket is in your hands you haul it to the riverbed, struggling as the fish jump around in the woven material. It takes a couple minutes for the movement to finally stop. You deposit all of your catch which consists of a handful of freshwater prawn, three haddock and some anchovies. You gut the fish using the river water to clean off the blood. You hated doing this part but it wasn't like you had anyone to help you anymore.
You missed your parents dearly. Well your mother was dead there's no bringing her back but you wished your daddy would find his way back home to clear his name. That he’ll explain that everything was a misunderstanding and he didn't take anyone's money. He wasn't that kind of man you knew that. He always taught you how to work for an honest living. He lived like that for as long as you can remember. There was no way he ran off with the mayor's money. Yet you had no way to prove his innocence since he disappeared.
Once you're done you place everything in a bucket and carry both the fish and the water back to your little home. You've been struggling to gather game for a couple weeks now, the majority of the traps you'd set were often tampered with or stolen by the time you got back to them. You've resorted to fishing for the time being. You wished the townspeople wouldn't hate you so much. They had already kicked you out of your town home. And returning to your old town was out of the question. It was miles away and you didn't trust anyone in town to take you there, you also didn't have the money to pay them. And you were still hopeful your daddy would return one day.
You're deep in thought on how you're going to prepare for the coming winter when two horses race by you. You halt in fear as you try to make sense of what was happening while trying to clear your vision of dirt. When the dust finally settles your met with two piercing eyes of what looks to be a sheriff of a different town. His uniform is pristine, his bright badge gleams in the morning sun almost blinding you. He has a stern look to him. By the looks of his white hair you'd think he's much older than he is.
“Little lady you shouldn't be out so far out of town by yourself! There's two outlaws on the loose, haven't you heard!?”, you take in his stern tone, your mind racing with the information he's just given you. But before you can answer the older gentleman the person beside him speaks up. The voice is jarring as it cuts through your eardrums, bringing back awful memories. It belonged to a man you so unfortunately recognised.
“Don't bother with her sheriff, she's a twofer (loose women). You couldn't make an honest woman out of her even if you tried. She's better off dealing with outlaws by her own self”, all you can do is glare as you take in the hardened face of the mayor's brother. You hadn't realised that he had become a deputy. It's been so long since he's come bothering you, you'd hope he had died of dysentery. You feel bad for the woman in his town. He's probably already abusing the authority he's been given. The sheriff is stunned into silence but before you can defend yourself from the now balding Calvin, he opens his big mouth again.
“I wouldn't be surprised if she was stealing from the town again, just like her old man eh. Did he ever come back darlin’ or is he still on the run? Have ye resorted to selling your backside for some extra dollars? I wouldn't be surprised if you did”, he lets out a boastful laugh eyeing your patched up dress.
“I told you you'll regret rejecting my marriage proposal. Wouldn't marrying me have been better than trying to become my brothers left handed wife (mistress) eh? What? I didn't have enough money to satisfy you? You're no better than a trug (low class prostitute). Won't be long until I see you working at the bed-house. I might even take pity on you and try you out for night”, he smirks down at you from his horse as you try to avoid his leering gaze.
Tears obstruct your vision but you try to keep them at bay. You wanted to call him every name in the book for saying all these baseless accusations about you. But he was a beef headed ten cent man who enjoyed tormenting women, especially those who reject his advances. You weren't the first and you wouldn't be the last to deal with his god awful lecherous behaviour.
“Pull in your horns Calvin! That's no way to talk to a lady!”, the sheriff buts in.
“She's no lady sheriff, a trat (pretty girl) maybe but she's a filthy con. One that likes to toll (to entice) men for money”, Calvin continues his rant in spite.
“Stop airin’ your lungs. Excuse us ma’am we'll be on our way then”, though the sheriff was polite you could see the look of what seemed to be distaste in his eyes as he took in your figure and worn out clothing before leaving. They quickly turn their horses in the direction of the town with Calvin mirthfully laughing along the way.
You're left standing there as you try to collect yourself before returning home.
-at the house
"urgh!...", Simon woke in a fright, sweat was pooling from every pore in his body. He frantically looked around the room trying to figure out where he was. It took a while for his memories of the night before to return. His muscles screamed in pain as he fought to try to move them but they weren't cooperating. His body felt hot and sweaty, like his skin was sunburnt. The sun was setting, his eyes squinted as the dwindling sunshine streamed down from the only window. Damn they were meant to leave before dawn. A whole day had gone by. He feels around his face making sure his bandana was still on before looking over at Johnny. His bandana was still on too. You hadn't tried taking it off. The only difference was that two wet cloths were placed on both of their foreheads and a chipped bowl full of water next to the mattress on the floor. Had you nursed them all day? Where were you now?
"Johnny?... Johnny wake up....", Simon sat up with difficulty calling out Johnny's name but he stayed asleep. Simon felt his forehead before ringing out the cloth and dipping it in the water to reapply. This wasn't good. He's burning up… He needed to get up to look for some yarrow Simon thought to himself. It'll help reduce their fever and then they'll be able to leave as soon as possible. The sheriff might have already made it into town. Simon prayed you hadn't met him. This puts them in a very dangerous situation. Simon sits up with great difficulty as the wound on his arm flairs up with pain. But before he can attempt to stand the door opens gingerly. He freezes when he sees you.
Your eyes meet each other and Simon is too stunned to speak. Your eyes are swollen and red, like you've been crying for some time now. He watches you try to hide the tears by looking away and wiping them hastily. A sudden surge of worry and anger fills his body. Who? Who made you cry? Who dared to hurt you?
Yet when he opens his mouth to demand a name the smell of something delicious wafts through the air making his stomach growl unintentionally. You speak up in a whisper before he can, now fully facing him again with a small smile.
“Food is almost ready, I found some yarrow to help with the fever too. I hope your okay with some fish and vegetable soup. I'm sorry I know it isn't much. But it was the best I could do. I'll make you some tea with the yarrow after you finish eating.” Simon hadn't noticed but you carried a small bundle of yarrow in your fidgety hands as you continued whispering trying to not to wake Johnny or possibly trying to prevent him from asking about why you were crying. He'll find out anyway even if it wasn't going to be from your mouth. Why would anyone hurt someone as sweet as you? You almost seemed too good to be true.
“Yes, thank you. Any food is much appreciated, we aren't picky eaters. This is way more than we deserve”, Simon watches you smile so genuinely at his response that it baffles him. All he did was speak politely to you yet you smile like he had plucked stars from the sky. The thing he didn't know was that no one in town has spoken kindly to you in a very long time. So anyone talking to you even if it was normally was something you cherished greatly.
“It'll be done soon. I just needed to grab some salt. Oh.. and I gave your horses some water I hope you don’t mind that I went near them”
“That's offly kind of you. I'm more surprised they let you near”, Simon grunts as he watches you grab what you need. That being some salt and another pot probably to boil the tea for later. Your dress had patches all over it, probably from you fixing it with whatever fabric you had laying around. The more he looked at you the more he realised how much you were struggling to obtain the bare necessities for living. Yet you remained so kind and generous. Why?...
“Ah it's no trouble at all, they let me pet them so I'm happy with that…Oh! we'll have to patch your wounds again. Let me go get some sterilised water for you!”, you say gazing at his now bloody arm. The stitches must have opened up while he was trying to move. You smile at him on your way out. You could definitely use some more meat on your bones. You really weren't living a good life out here. Yet you were so kind to feed them and their horses. They'd make sure to leave you behind enough money to sustain you for a couple years. It's the least they could do after all you've done for them.
That reminds Simon he needs to do a parameter check on your house. He'll have to ask you about the sheriff too. But it looked like you were isolated from the town. It was either this or that you rarely went into town for your own reasons. News travels fast, especially in frontier towns. Though it seemed like this was one of the bigger ones. He was glad you would probably be the last person to receive the news. That just meant they could spend a couple days with you without you being afraid of them. And they could leave before you were even given a chance to report them to the sheriff.
Copyright © by ethereal-night-fairy. 2024. All Rights Reserved. Writing not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or to use with AI technologies.
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— JANUARY 2024.
accomplishments.
i meant to write this yesterday. and the day before. and, well, yes, also the whole weekend. it's not much of a monthly update when we're already a week into february, but we're ignoring it. time flies; it's so crazy.
i hate to admit it but january was not a good month for me in terms of writing. i really thought my last semester at school would be easy (ha) so i was overestimating how much i could get done. the truth is, i haven't touched when twilight strikes for a while. and it pains me heavily. i wish i was working on that rather than my essays (boooo!!!) but i can't afford a fail when i'm so close to graduating. so, reluctant priorities. in an ideal world, chapter eleven would come out this month. in reality, i have no date. i would love march, but my progress has been so slow i can't guarantee it.
to speak on the little i have written, though, i think it's going really well. i'm diving into some complicated things and while it's challenging, it's also been super fun. i might have mentioned this last month but a lot of things are reaching a culminating point. because of that, the chapter is definitely more plot-driven than fluff, but (don't worry!) at the same time, it's still very character-driven. i don't think it'd be a 'me' chapter if it wasn't. Blane, K and Rylan have whole scenes (K and Rylan are in one scene together, Blane is on their own; i've yet to decide how or if I'm doing it for A and N). i'm really excited for you to read them.
finally, as some of you may know, February is also the month of my anniversary. it'll be three years since i posted my intro post here on tumblr and damn, like i said, time flies. it's funny because i thought it'd be done by now, but hey, here i still am, writing chapter eleven and *struggling* with it. usually, i post some sort of anniversary special, but since i'm so behind this year, i haven't been able to get a start on it. i'm really sorry about this—i was so excited about it too because i know exactly what i want to do. i still plan for it to be released, but just not on the deadline of the actual day, unfortunately. so if anyone was looking forward to that, you'll have to wait.
on a lighter note, i hope you're all doing well! hopefully, february will be kinder to me in terms of assignments <3
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Always & Forever || JJ Maybank
Summary: Request - Hii. Love your work. It's so good. I'm feeling a good hurt comfort fic with the obx cast. Could I get a JJ Maybank x reader (maybe john b's younger sister?) where she's lost everything after they assume John B and Sarah are lost at sea... Read Rest Here
A/N - Ohhh this was kinda hard to write. Being sad is a bitch. Please let somebody know if you're sad/getting sad. People love you! Always remember that <3
Pairing: JJ Maybank x Y/N
Word Count: 2.3+
TW: Talks of depression, being sad, not eating etc.
You barely heard the soft knocks on your bedroom door. Currently, you were huddled underneath the comforter of your missing older brother just hoping and praying he was okay. They’d officially called it. Lost at sea. Presumed deceased. Dead. Just like your fucking father. How was this your life? Two years ago, you had the world with the two coolest guys on the earth. And now? Now you were alone. Utterly fucking alone. It’d only been three damn days, but they gave up. There was no funding for a poor pogue boy from the wrong part of the island. Sherriff Peterman just gave you a sad look when she broke the news to you a few days prior. Or it could’ve been yesterday. Time didn’t matter anymore. Nothing really mattered anymore. You were a sixteen-year-old girl alone as fuck in this cold ass world.
“Hey little Rout.” You heard JJ’s kinder than usual voice from the other side of the door, “You need to open this door or I’m going to have to pick the lock. Need to see if you’re okay. You haven’t been at school and Mrs. Smith is getting worries, she said she’s going to report you.” You heard the soft sigh of utter defeat as he waited for a moment for you to respond. To do anything. You didn’t have the energy to respond so instead you just laid there.
“Come on kid.” You rolled your eyes at the nickname he’d long since used on you, “You need to come out. Get some fresh air. You can’t stay in there forever.”
Nothing. You just couldn’t. Depression was a hell of a thing. You just couldn’t fathom getting up and unlocking that door. Your brain knew you should. But the actual thought of moving seemed like a foreign concept you weren’t ready for sure yet.
He didn’t give you much else of a choice as you heard the lock click. You knew it wouldn’t take him much effort to get it but alas, you just couldn’t care. It didn’t seem to matter. Nothing else mattered. John B was all you had left and now you sat here empty and void.
“Oh Y/N…” His voice trailed off as he spotted you withering away underneath a mass of blankets. A blank stare on your face. You couldn’t bear to meet his eyes feeling grossly ashamed you let it get this kind of bad.
“I just…” Your voice croaked out as it hadn’t been used in while, how long you hadn’t used it you really didn’t have a clue.
He shook his head kneeling down beside your bed, “It’s alright mins.” His head was close as he smiled at you with a smile that never reached his eyes. A smile he was putting on for you. He took his hand brushing your knotted hair away from your sunken face.
Mins. You wanted to laugh. It was the first good emotion you had felt in a while. Mins was your current nickname of quite the long line of ever evolving nicknames from the blonde-haired boy. First it was mini-Routledge, then it was mini-JB, then mini and now mins. He didn’t use it all too often anymore, only when he thought you needed it. And you needed it more than ever now. All his love and everything he could give to you.
JJ knew just how much John B meant to you. He was your best friend. The two of you did everything together, practically inseparable. Even when JB met JJ they still included you in on everything. You were his shadow. That didn’t change as you got older. You just had to play it off as something different.
“I’m tired JJ.” You sighed letting your eyes close in front of him. The effort to keep them open was beginning to become too much.
He frowned deeply. This wasn’t like you. You were usually so full of life. The one who wanted to go and do things. The one who called him lame when he didn’t want to try something new with you. You were the one that kept the group going. And now it felt like everything was falling apart. The pogues were without their people and they needed you back.
This was your way of shutting down and he knew it.
“When was the last time you ate honey?” He asked while trying to brush the knots out of the hair he could get to. You were never particular about your hair, but JJ knew how badly knots hurt to get out. He remembered that one time when the both of you were younger, you crying when your dad tried to brush out some gnarly knots after JJ and JB tried to teach you how to surf one afternoon. It broke his heart even as a twelve-year-old boy. He had that same protective love that JB had over you.
You sighed trying to remember, “Before we found out he was missing I guess.”
JJ’s eyes bugged. He knew he should’ve checked in on you sooner. Damn the pogues who told him to leave you alone. That you needed space. You clearly didn’t need space. You needed help.
“That was three days ago Y/N.” His blood felt like it was running cold. How could he let you lay here for three entire days? JB would fucking murder him if he found out. Some friend he was.
You hummed in acknowledgement, “I’ve had some water though. Haven’t been hungry.” You admitted to your concerned friend. Your voice finally started sounding more like your own after the hoarseness had worked its way out.
“Well, that’s a start mins.” He sighed brushing his overgrown golden hair away from his eyes, “Can you get up for me? Get you some soup downstairs or something?”
“JJ.” You whined not feeling up to the task, “I’m too tired. I don’t feel like it.”
He took you hand in his and wanted to cry from how cold it was. You weren’t right. No, you were suffering, and they just let you. He felt nothing more than a piece of shit seeing you so broken, “I’ll carry you. I just need you to eat something honey. John B would be sick with worry if he knew you were starving away.”
“Don’t talk about him.” You turned away from JJ feeling your own blood run cold at the mention of your missing older brothers name. You couldn’t fucking believe he chose to leave you. Fuck, you couldn’t believe he’d ever put Sarah in that position either. It all felt like a fever dream you had to wake up from. But you weren’t waking up which meant this was a sick and twisted reality that you didn’t want to participate in anymore.
“Y/N…”
You shook your head on your pillow, “Please JJ. Don’t talk about him. I can’t take it. Not yet.” You felt the tears that had long since dried up come flowing back in an instant. Why in the hell did he bring out these feelings in you so effortlessly? Leave it to your older brothers cute as hell best friend that was certainly off limits. JJ would never, ever feel that way for you anyway.
“Alright honey.” Honey. That was a new one. You’d heard him use it sparingly on girls in the past, but it certainly was never used for you. But he’d used it a few times in the last few sentences sending your overly tired mind reeling in another direction. He was just being kind, that was all. After all, your older brother did just fucking vanish into thin air, “Can you please get up for me? Please mins? I need you to eat something. Whatever you what. Please?” He added one last please to let you know how dire he felt.
You rolled back over to him exerting far too much effort in doing so, “I don’t think I can.” You sounded defeated as the tears started once more, “I’m so tired J.” You whispered trying to contain the sob that wanted to escape from your throat.
“Cause you need to eat honey.” He spoke with nothing but concern on his face, “Let me take you downstairs? You need to move. Need to be somewhere new. Need to get some calories in your body.” He said so matter of factly you weren’t sure if it was JJ in front of you. But then again, for as much as a mess the boy normally was he thrived in crises situations such as these. He always seemed to know exactly what to do.
“Yeah, that’s fine JJ.” You knew he’d win eventually so it might be best to just give it up.
He let out a subtle breath of sure-fire relief as he scooped you up into his arms. You were light. Far too fucking light. God, he was such an idiot. He knew you better than any of the other pogues. Of course, you needed help.
He set you down at the messy table filled with whatever shit JB had likely left there the week prior. You grew tired of always cleaning so you just started leaving it. Your eyes scanned the table full of junk. A sad smile formed seeing his homework scattered about with an unpaid parking ticket next to it all. He’d never get to finish that homework. Never would have to lie his way out of that ticket. Why him? Why your JB?
“What do you want to eat honey?” He asking running a hand up and down your arm. Attempting any form of comfort for you. He saw the sad look in your eyes as they scanned the table. He had to get your mind off of JB in any way he could.
“Why are you calling me that?” You asked instead of answering him. It was driving you nuts, and you had to know. In your right mind you’d never
“Honey?” He asked, a bit taken aback by your sudden brazenness. The you he knew would never have asked him that. Instead, you would’ve asked JB. Something you couldn’t do anymore.
You nodded in confirmation feeling your eyes droop and your mouth open to yawn. JJ cursed internally making the decision of canned soup for you knowing you needed to eat as soon as possible. Light and easy and calories. That’s exactly what you needed.
“I don’t know mins.” He admitted while heating up your food, “It just felt, feels right. I can stop saying it if you’d like.”
“I didn’t say that.” You spoke back in almost a whisper.
“Honey it is.” He grinned while putting your warm, not overly hot, soup in a bowl. He set it down in front of you waiting for you to eat.
“I still like mins too.” You added admitting to him just how much you did like the nickname. He’d stopped using it as much now that the two of you had gotten older. You’d forgotten just how much you’d liked the nickname. Probably because it was a nickname only you could have. A special one from the boy you surely loved but vehemently denied.
“Noted, now eat mins.” He grinned pointing to the bowl.
You nodded not really sure if your hands would agree with your brain. You were so utterly fucking exhausted. Turns out you did need to eat if you wanted to be able to function. Because it felt like a task you’d never be able to start. As much as you tried your arm just wouldn’t cooperate.
“Mins?” He asked seeing you not really making a move for it.
“I can’t JJ. It’s too much.” You hated to admit how disgustingly useless you felt. Yet here you were.
He nodded in understanding, “Here, let me.” He took the spoon from the bowl and held it front of your face. For the first time in three days, you relished in the taste of food. It did taste really good. And damn, you were a lot hungrier than you realized. Before you knew it the bowl was gone, and you were entirely full.
“Thank you J.” You let your eyes close once more feeling the outright exhaustion of the situation come down over you.
“Anytime mins.” Seeing your eyes close he noted your fatigue, “Why don’t we sit on the couch and watch a movie?” He suggested hoping you’d agree.
“That sounds nice J, I may need your help again.” You let out a frustrated sigh at the state of your condition. You did start feeling a bit better but the thought of walking or even crawling made you shudder.
He shot up from his seat to get you up. He picked you up like it was nothing, “I got you hon. I always do and always will. Remember that alright?” You nodded in his chest doing your best to fight off the sleep that wanted to take you.
“Thank you J.” You whispered into his chest. He set you down right next to him, letting your head fall into his side.
He wrapped an arm around your torso letting you know you were safe and secure. He wasn’t planning on going anywhere without you anymore. Running his hand through your hair he felt a shiver knowing you liked exactly what he was doing, “Always mins. Now, let yourself sleep. We’ll deal with all this shit when you wake up. Together.”
You nodded letting the darkness take over, “Promise?”
“Always and forever.” He gave your head a soft and gentle kiss before the soft snoozes overcame you. He decided he was going to watch you sleep, for however long that was. You were his everything too. He was only just beginning to realize that now. Always and forever. It had a nice ring to it. Forever with you was a life he would dream about. Maybe one day. Maybe after he sorted you through this mess. Maybe just maybe.
Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891
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Treat You 5
Warnings: dark elements, noncon, violence, abuse, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (Tall!reader)
Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.
Part of The Club AU
When you go home, your father is still angry. You barely get past him to lock yourself in your room before he’s hollering and crashing around again. You clean up the mess he left of your things but find much of it unsalvagable. You don’t have much as it is. Just books, really.
You huff as you lay on your bed and mope. Your laptop is broken. You don’t know what to do about that. If you lose your job because of it, you can’t imagine your father would be any kinder.
You wallow in self-pity, flinching every time your father bangs or shouts. He doesn’t stop until well after midnight. Your stomach hurts as it shrivels hungrily. Even if you could leave your room, it’s not like there’s much to eat.
You get about an hour’s sleep before you relent and give in to another day. You fish your library card out of your drawer and leave the broken laptop behind. You could see if you could sell it for parts.
You emerge from your room cautiously. You tiptoe down to the front room and peek inside. Your father isn’t there but several empties remain in his stead. You gather the empty bottle and carefully take them into the kitchen and arrange them in a box. It’s not much over a dollar’s worth for the dozen.
You leave the box by the front door and go back down the hall. You dip into the bathroom and clean up in the sink, brushing your teeth quickly as your ears prick at every noise. You finish up and carry your shoes from your room to the door.
You hook your bag across your body, another bag in your hand. You take the box of beer bottles with you into the hall and ease the door shut. You lock it and set off towards the rear entrance of the building. Your skin sets on fire as you approach the recycling bins and sift through them.
It’s embarrassing but you have no other way to pay for the computer time at the library. You fill the bag with empties, spilling stale dregs on yourself here and there, then sling the strap over your shoulder before reclaiming the clanging box of bottles. You set off, keeping your head down as your muscles burn from the extra weight.
You wait an hour outside the beer store for opening time. You carry in your haul and get your change. Three bucks and some change. That’s about two hours of PC time. You want to cry but you hold it back. You’ll just have to get lots of work done.
At the library, you hand over all but seventy-five cents to sit at one of the computers. You’re dizzy from the long walk and your lack of breakfast. Before you log in and start the time, you go out to the water fountain in the lobby and take a long drink. You feel a bit better even if your stomach only screams louder with hunger.
You type in your library card number and the code they wrote down and start the session. You sign in to the transcription portal and start the first job that comes up. If you can keep on track, you can get almost fifty dollars added to your next pay out.
🪻
On Friday, you’re back at the library. You’ve collected enough empties through the week to get between two to three hours at a PC each day. You even managed to find a few dimes on the couch while your dad wasn’t looking.
Your session times out at two and you pack up. Yesterday you accidentally fell asleep on one of the chairs in the mystery section. The librarian gave you a warning but otherwise let you be.
You hike your bag up and wander the aisles. You know you’re supposed to be meeting Peter. You’ve been dreading it but you didn't have a way or the nerve to cancel on him. Deep down you have to admit you’re excited to try a video game. The closest you ever got were the educational spelling and math games in grade school.
You make yourself leave the library and walk down to the cafe. You stand outside as you find the door locked. Your heart drops. It’s closed.
You hang your head and take a step back. Oh, it must’ve been a joke after all. Why would he want you around? He just had you walk all the way down here as a prank. Just like grade school when those girls invited you to that sleepover and drew all over your face.
You wince and turn away, arms crossed as your shoulders slump. You can’t believe you fell for it. You’re so stupid.
“Hey,” a voice calls and you look up to see Peter waving his hand as he runs across the street. You gape at him in surprise, “hey, uh, sorry, I think–” He hops up on the curb and checks his watch. It’s fancy, one of those digital fitness ones. “I’m on time.”
“I thought…” you look back at the cafe, “you were working?”
“Supposed to but owner didn’t show up. Or the keyholder so… no shift.”
“Oh, I thought…”
“You thought what?” His forehead wrinkles, “that I ditched you? Nope. I didn’t have any way to contact you so I just figured I’d come back and meet you like we planned. Video games are still on.”
“Right,” you nod glumly, “it’s okay if you changed your mind.”
“Do you think I’m lying?” He challenges, not harshly, rather sounding hurt.
You shake your head, “I’m not… I don’t think that but I don’t know.”
“Do you still want to come?” He asks uneasily, “I kinda… kinda been looking forward to this but I wouldn’t want you to feel forced.”
“I…” you blink and rub your neck, “I do.” You raise your head resolutely, neck still slightly bent to look him in the eye, “I just…” you bite your lip and shrug, “I guess I’m not good with people so…” you sway back and forth nervously, “I’m scared.”
“Scared? Don’t be. I’ll be right there with you,” he assures and his whole face brightens as he smiles. “If anyone gives you a hard time, you tell me, alright?”
“Okay,” your murmur.
“Well, let’s go,” he says, “Aunt May gave me the car so we can stop and grab snacks.”
“Oh, that’s… cool.”
“Promise I won’t speed,” he chuckles, “precious cargo and all.”
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somethin’ stupid
☾ ft. chuuya nakahara
☾ lately, chuuya hasn’t been able to resist his bluntness.
inspired by the song “somethin’ stupid” <3
“I love you.”
These evenings were perfect, Chuuya thought, and he hoped you shared his sentiment. Evenings spent filling the gaps in your time together, fragmented by streams of work, appreciating the nighttime Yokohama scenery as you walked to the bar you frequented after enjoying a luxurious dinner (funded, of course, by Chuuya’s wallet), and indulging in the satisfying burn of whatever drink you decided on that night as it slipped down your throats.
There was never a dull moment in the Port Mafia, always something in need of attention. You especially, as an intelligence officer, would be buried knee deep in either some external affairs or paperwork that made you want to suffocate yourself in its depth. It wasn’t often that your schedule aligned with Chuuya’s. He’d always wait patiently in line with your other duties until you’d finally have time to spend an evening with him.
In his drunken state, he would ramble on about whatever emotion had been overtaking him. For some time it was anger, and for a long while the topic of his drunken rambles was his annoyance over his former partner. But when the two of you were alone together, another emotion captivated him, though it wasn’t any kinder on his heart nor any more soothing on his mind.
It was a gentleness you could only imagine few in the Port Mafia being exposed to, an intimacy reserved only for you on the nights the two of you would slip into your usual bar making easy conversation, laughing lightheartedly about whatever topic of conversation you were discussing. Only when he is with you, when the stars turn red and when your perfume intermingled with the fog in his already hazy head from the drink he swirls around in his glass does his inability to express himself tenderly finally drift away with the fog. Only then can he say the words that always linger in the back of his mind. Words so simple, so cliché, so right--
“I love you.”
He says it quieter this time, processing through the haze that your silence wasn’t necessarily good reception to his confession. Through the fog he can still observe the emotion in your eyes, those beautiful vibrant eyes of yours. It was familiar; he had seen it through the fog yesterday too. Annoyance? Anger? It was hard to name. But your eyes welled with it, staring at him with your mouth curled ever so slightly in distaste.
He had said the words the night before as well, under the exact same circumstances. After dropping into the same bar with you, exchanging laughs and anecdotes, and having his drink seize his mind and emotions. Your face was different tonight, however. Last night, Chuuya remembers through the haze, your eyes were wide and shimmered with that undetectable emotion, your mouth agape and sitting straight. Tonight however, your body stiffened upon processing the words- words that were no different than last nights, hunched over your drink as you stared at him.
To you, it was just a line. People say all sorts of things when they're intoxicated. But the words have never felt so right to Chuuya when he says them to you.
He’s never been the type to outright confess to anything he feels, but he’s always trying to be clever with his actions, always trying to make his feelings go through to you in the ways he knows how. Always a simple call away when you’d need anything at all, letting friendly touches linger just a second longer, the care in his eyes when he looked at you. Never quite being able to hold himself back from getting involved when it came to you, always treating your affairs as if they were his, your emotions his own. Whether you liked it or not, he was by your side, doing anything and everything to support you.
Yet still, these sorts of things were typical of Chuuya- typical of the Port Mafia- and so the message never quite reached you. In the evenings, however, he couldn’t restrain his bluntness. Instead of taking in the night scenery on his walk to the bar, bathing in the yellow glow of street-lamps, he’s admiring your face illuminated by the silver rays of the moonlight, the feelings bubbling up as he basked in your laughter, hands suddenly hot under his gloves (which have only ever posed as a constraint when you were around) when you stared at him with that ever attentive gaze of yours, head tilted to the side. It was no wonder the words just tumbled out when he was doing everything in his power to bite them back sober, so simple but so right. They felt good on his tongue, knowing that you were on the receiving end of them. And so he says it again, even quieter.
“I love you.”
You're searching his face and he’s still gazing into your eyes under the blurry counter lights, focusing on your face in order to try and fix his cloudy vision. By tomorrow, he’ll probably forget the words he spoke, and of course, you won’t bring them up, just like you had done before in order to maintain your current relationship. He’d hate himself if he knew, always so gentlemanly and courteous with you that acting so insensitively and out of character would only leave him to marvel over his inappropriate behavior in agony. And that patience and kindness of yours Chuuya just adored would make sure that such a thing didn’t happen. You were mature enough to handle the situation with grace. There was no reason to inconvenience him when they were nothing but words.
With how many times he repeats them, however, you would think it were a chant, a spell he’s casting to try to convince you the words meant more than your hurt expression was telling him. It was unlike him to be so quiet, known for his expressiveness especially when under the influence. It was as if his mind had only a single thought that he urgently needed to get through.
They do say drunk words are sober thoughts.
His vision tunnels and his eyes slowly shrink, but Chuuya still manages to mumble out the line one final time before the grip on his glass loosens and he passes out with his head tilted sideways.
“I love you.”
🏷️ tags: @sunslept because she told me to post
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thinking idly about ywbk gang and realizing that while yoohyun and yerim will constantly be at each other's throats over Fairness and Equality in the classic manner of siblings everywhere, the rest of the family consists of:
han hyunjae, known sucker for his babiest brother and therefore probably not too concerned with squabbling over minor stuff like who got the bigger half of this chocolate bar because he'd give the whole thing to yoohyun
han yoojin, same issue as above
kwon jiyeon, only child
lee hohyoung, only child
yoo myeongwoo, littlest sibling to noonas much older than him who largely ignored and excluded him when not treating him as a servant
none of these bitches are going to fucking understand what is happening with their youngest two huh.
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I`ve been rewatching the car scene from episode 4 and there`s that moment just after “Alone And Forsaken” starts to play when Joels face changes completely. There is something so soft about this expression, he`s not quite smiling, but his face relaxes, he closes his eyes and he looks like he got lost in a memory. And you can see it’s a good one, a safe one. To me that would suggest that it was something from way before.
Because thats a face of a person that got reminded of something from his childhood. Something half-forgotten until someone brings it up and you remember it as vividly as if it was yesterday. Every texture, every sound and every smell. And you can’t help, but smile, cause it was so long ego, but also not really, you`re still the same person. And music is like magic, it`s the only time machine we have, works every time!
And that got me thinking! If this music is from before Joel`s time, is it possible it`s something his father used to listen to? His favorite road trip music maybe? And Joel was the one in the backseat, just like Ellie is now, going crazy from boredom, asking a million questions, waving at the passing cars or making crazy faces and then hiding? And then when Tommy was old enough was it both of them playing or fighting and driving their father mad in a process?
It breaks my heart in the best way because this is just the beginning of Joels journey and hes changed so much already, to the point hes able to access this small part of himself and it makes him feel soft, even if just for a second. Makes him think about a time everything was simpler, sweeter, kinder? Somehow those memories survived all those years completely unscathed, as if they`ve existed in a protective bubble untouched by anything that came after. They`ve formed their own little universe where Joel`s small hands knew nothing of violence or survival yet, just toys and ice cream cones. Nothing of the nightmares to come, just a moving car, his dad`s favorite song and his little brother annoying the hell out of him.
A small moment preserved forever on the Hank Williams cassette tape.
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Some crossover silliness
Both I and @cosmica-galaxy write Skibidi Toilet fanfic (as in it's a thing that each of us does, not as in we do it together) about a human reader who is presumed to be the last of their kind and lives/works in the Alliance main base, so the stories presumably can't take place in the same universe.
I remembered that @gamie99 has drawn us some lovely crossover art of our humans (post 1 / post 2), and it set me thinking: what if they both exist but by cartoonishly hilarious and convoluted circumstances they've never been in the same room at the same time? And hardwares can't tell humans apart that well at a distance, so they don't realise they've actually got 2 humans? Some of the hardwares were around when C-Human (Cosmica's human) joined the Alliance and some were around when L-Human (mine) joined, and it was close enough in time that when anyone mentions 'the human', any hardwares present assume it refers to whichever human they first encountered.
(Yeah, there's all manner of in-story reasons and common-sense reasons why this is implausible, but I am being silly on purpose for fun.)
It would cause all manner of confusion for the two humans and the hardwares! I get the impression that C-Human is generally kinder and nicer than L-Human, who is probably more sarcastic.
Hardwares encountering C-Human thinking it's L-Human: "You're being suspiciously nice today..." or "Why were you so rude to me yesterday?!"
C-Human: [was just being normal and is now confused and hurt]
---
Hardwares encountering L-Human thinking it's C-Human: "How are the mimics?"
L-Human: "How are the what?"
Hardware: "...The mimics? The shapeshifting creatures you tamed and hang out with?"
L-Human: "...You mean the darkling beetle farm I started?"
Hardware: "What?"
L-Human: "What?"
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Steve was bored.
Like, it was about to become a problem type of bored. He was practically falling asleep at his desk and he was already on warning after being late to work. You’d think his boss would be a little kinder for something as simple as sleeping through an alarm, but noooooo. She had to ‘make an example’, apparently. What a bitch. Instant written warning, no second chances.
Great.
It didn’t even happen for a good reason anyway. He binged some dumb Netflix show and kept hitting ‘Next Episode’ until 4am. It wasn’t even well written. So now here he was with a weight behind his eyes and half a mind to write a strongly worded letter to find out what the hell the writers were thinking with that ending.
He would have called out entirely if it wasn’t Wednesday. Steve’s favourite day of the week, because Wednesday was the day the interns from the business campus across town came in.
They were all Steve’s age or thereabouts, his status as a nepo baby securing his less-than-desirable spot in his father’s business behind this stupid desk, and under the watchful eye of Diane, right out of highschool. He envied how the students came in, sat in the corner of meetings and took frantic notes, before going off in a great big gaggle for lunch together while Steve ate a foil wrapped ham and cheese sandwich alone in the staff break room.
So Wednesday meant interns, meant crowded meetings, meant loud discussions of how to split a deli tab, meant Eddie.
Eddie.
Steve could barely keep his eyes off him any time he paraded through the office. His grey slacks were on the borderline of being too baggy for dress code, his white shirt was never tucked in but it was fitted to the point of maybe it was just a size too small, so it didn’t matter anyway. Even his slim black tie, flying around as Eddie bounced through the office, gave an extra endearing quality to the man. And the mop of curly hair, haphazardly thrown up into a bun on top of his head? Don’t get Steve started.
Steve had been looking for an ‘in’ for months now. Time was running out, the internship programme would be ending soon and Wednesday would go back to being just a regular day. No students, no Eddie. Steve tried once or twice to say hi when they passed in the parking lot but Eddie only ever offered a distracted smile before going back to whatever he was doing on his phone. He never even took out his headphones.
It wasn’t until Steve was sitting in the break room one Thursday, forcing himself to chew through stale bread and ham that had smelled better yesterday, that he finally got a chance. He was silently stewing at the fact Diane was forcing him to reenter a huge data sheet of figures later on that day. He fucking hated reentries, and she knew it.
“Hey,” said Eddie, standing at the door before sitting across from Steve at the table.
Steve realised he’d gone too long without replying when Eddie’s eyebrows quirked inwards.
“Hey, hi, yeah…. Hey,” said Steve quickly. He was suddenly very aware of how bland his grey shirt/navy sweater combo looked in comparison to Eddie’s….everything. It didn’t matter that Eddie was dressed in monotone greys today, it was just him.
“You’re not usually here on Thursdays,” said Steve, aiming for casual.
Eddie smirked.
“Yeah well,” he said, leaning back heavily in his chair. “I messed up some figures yesterday so I offered to come in today to fix it. No classes in the afternoon so, made sense,”
Eddie finished with a shrug. Steve had no idea what he’d just said because this was actually the first time he’d heard Eddie’s voice without the buzz of the entire office in the background and he felt like he wanted to swim in it.
“Cool, cool,” said Steve, hoping that was an appropriate response.
Eddie nodded and regarded Steve carefully, eyes dragging over the parts of him that weren’t hidden by the table.
“You take a lot of notice when I’m here….?” began Eddie, leaning forward and motioning for Steve to fill in the blank.
“Oh, S-Stephen, Steve, uh, Steve,” he stammered, clearing his throat.
“Steve,” repeated Eddie slowly. “I’m Eddie,”
Steve knew his name. Had made a mission of finding it out. Broke six different company policies on privacy to find it after the first week.
Steve just nodded, shy now.
“So tell me, Steve,” said Eddie, dragging his teeth over his lip when he said Steve’s name. “Do you always notice when I’m not here?”
“It’s…It’s intern day, Wednesdays,” floundered Steve. “You’re an intern. Wednesday is your day. To be here, I mean, and this is…Thursday, so…”
Eddie’s eye narrowed as a grin tugged on the edge of his mouth.
“Desk 405, right?” asked Eddie, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket. “Third cubicle past the bathrooms, right next to the cooler?”
Steve’s mouth dropped open.
“Yeah, yes, uh, how did…” Steve cleared his throat again. “Why do you know where my desk is?”
Eddie stood, pocketing the paper again.
“You’re the one who’s going to help me fix my mistake,” said Eddie, rapping his knuckles on the table, calling over his shoulder as he left. “Thank Diane, she said you love data reentry,”
Steve did always like Diane.
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📩 Simblr question of the day: Who's your biggest inspiration/s on Simblr? Mention them! Tell us why you like them!
honestly probably could've made an 800 page essay on people who inspire me on simblr, but these are my BIGGEST biggest inspirations :P
@minimooberry : Honestly, she's the reason why I even pursued rendering in blender and her stuff is probably the only reason why I even joined Simblr to begin with 🥹
@stellarfalls : Bree, the LEGEND, has inspired me in a lot of ways but the biggest one was her GIFS... I remember seeing her post of Rohan and Hana's first meeting and that sparked a light in my chest... I wanted oh so badly to make Gifs as good as her... I'm getting there but we all have different styles so it'll never be exact and I know my gifs will be good in their own way 🫶
@birdietrait : Their overall sim style just... idk its so good and loved it when I first saw their posts 🥹
@groovetrys : Her general editing style was a HUGE inspiration for me, I can't quite explain or pinpoint it but I LOVE her editing its sooo aesthetically pleasing
@slightly-ludic : This is a bit of a smaller detail, but I just LOVE how Jade edits her globetrotter screenshots, I love the sort of narrator perspective in the text and I've started to try and do something similar in Make the Most of It :)
@mattodore : So i've always loved being passionate about my characters (hence why Roo still exists 5 years later), but seeing River's blog and how IN DEPTH they go for Theo and Matthias (and their other OCs ofc) and how much passion they have for their characters inspired me to get more into the blood and guts of my characters, I don't think I'll ever get there exactly cuz I feel like u could ask River what Theo was doing on February 9th 2018 and they'd have an answer and I would not LMFAOO
@rebouks : I am just overall VERY inspired by Becca, but she's one of the people who got me inspired to start making more poses (albeit I was already into making my own poses, she definitely bumped that inspo) and I'm very inspired by her storytelling, its SO good and feels soooooo human
@buttertrait @miralure @acuar-io : squishing these three together because all their vibes just make me so happy and inspired or at least allowed me to feel like I can be myself in this community (mainly cuz their vibes are similar to the vibes of people I like and am friends with irl)
@torissims : her whole aesthetic is just something that I ASPIRE to have... like the vibes of her yesterday save posts are just MWAH chefs kiss man
@missatan : (nat getting all my love today damn LMAO) I don't think my renders will ever be as 8K ultra HD 5 billion pixel quality as hers, but the symbolism behind them and just how good they look have inspired me to at least WANT to do/get better at rendering
some of these might not really be classified as "inspirations" but I still felt like sharing my adoration for these people - There's SO many more people I could've @'d but felt these were my very VERY best inspirations.
I should mention that all my mutuals inspire me one way or another, the community as a whole has inspired me to be kinder and inspired me to just spout my adoration for peoples' work
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