#•miscellaneous piece of whatever•

[chuitu]

᯽ WAYPOINTS ᯽

Please refer to these quick access points;

Important-ish thingy:

> My card!

> CHUITNIVERSARY DTIYS

> "Magic" sigils (EU7H1MIA DRIVE)

> Discontinued AO3 but the lore there matters (kinda???)

> What happens after "Clouds //ACT 2//" in 30 minutes!

> What happens to Yeva before "Season 1"?

> What happens to Yeva before "Season 1"?《Pt. 2》

[My AUs]

◇ RE:scriptedAU

(When the tides of destiny bend to another)

Nierko Zikloa

>> Overview

>> All Archived Files (Incomplete/Ongoing)

Rienko Zikloa

>> Overview (TBA)

◇ RE:scriptedTWICE!

(Oc and Oc interactions, inter-AU shit, great stuff)

A. Sirin is Un-Retired

B. An Almost Impossible Ending

C. Cold brew and Cinnamon

D. Gunships and Endworld

[Main/Sub Ocs]

[Main]

◇Yeva Ivanova Tereshkov Moon

[Sub-main/s]

◇Murata Seiren/Sirin

◇Murata Salli

[A.E.G Agents]

◇Kallen Langley Faro

◇Phoebe Liesolette Grey

◇Yú Jiǎo

◇Jíangguō Tianhong

◇Jíangguō Guizhong

◇Zhan Haewon (Bort)

◇Zhan Sooyeon (Cinnabar)

◇Zhan Youngmin (Rutile)

[Misc.]

◇Kafka Reighley

◇Shinomiya Hikaru

◇Shinomiya Hikari

◇Yury Huo Tereshkov

◇Rozalyn Liu Tereskhov

◇Ilia Wei Tereshkov

◇Ivan Wu Tershkov

◇Murata Sigmund

◇Murata Seirin

◇Murata Caspian

◇Murata Ciero

P.S: Dividers used are from @sister-lucifer !

As for hashtags! A little quick rundown will do yeah?

Character tags (ocs and not ocs?):

#oc; yeva moon , #oc; jiangguo tianhong , #oc; maximilian donesca , #oc; zhan cinnabar , #oc; zhan rutile , #oc; jiangguo guizhong , #oc; robin grey , #oc; yu jiao , #oc; kallen faro , #oc; murata salli , #lmk rembara

Au related tags:

#•rescripted lore• #lmk rescripted au #•peppermint• (Yeva x RS) #yeva qna #•nierko zikloa• #•rienko zikloa•

Miscellaneous tags:

#•chuitrambles• #•miscellaneous piece of whatever• #•chuit designs things• #chuitqna

[riwrite]

pros of living with another cosplayer: enables and encourages each other to work on our costumes and has fun doing it together cons of living with another cosplayer: forget to do my other hobbies

[lovebugism]

could I request maybe shy!reader trying to play dnd with eddie but she's suuuuuuper nervous and confused and internally panicking about him not liking her anymore if she can't get into it?? Or if you wanna change it up please do!! love you!!

love you! hope you like it! — you get insecure about not liking d&d when a girl joins hellfire (shy!fem!r, hurt/comfort ish, established relationship, 1.4k)

The Hellfire room is void of the boyish bodies that usually fill it. The abandoned classroom, turned freak sanctuary, is now littered with pieces the rogues, clerics, and bards left behind — in half-empty soda cans and crumbled-up bags of potato chips.

While Eddie packs up his binder, filled to the brim with miscellaneous papers, you wander around the long table with a trashcan in hand. The wild-haired boy squints when you chuck Dustin’s crushed Pepsi in the bin. “You don’t have to do that, you know?”

“It’s okay,” you shrug. “I don’t mind.”

Eddie huffs through his nose, feeling too exhausted now to argue. He slides his binder into his bag and watches you rake Gareth’s chip crumbs into the trashcan. The urge to stop you becomes unignorable then. 

“Okay, well, you know what? I mind—” the boy retorts, striding the very short distance to you and snatching the bin from your grip. He smiles a crooked grin and continues in a fantastical accent. “—‘Cause the Dungeon Master’s queen shouldn’t have to clean up after a bunch of lowborns, alright?”

You roll your eyes with a subdued giggle. “Someone’s gotta do it, Eds,” you insist as you reach for the plastic container he took. You exhale sharply when he hides it further behind him, pulling it further out of your way. “I wanna be of some use around here!”

Eddie’s face twists. “Don’t say that.”

You cower beneath his stare. “Well… It’s not like I actually play or anything. I just kinda… sit around… And watch you guys do everything…”

“Well, why would you play?” he laughs. “You don’t even like D&D.”

Something in the way he says it makes you ache. You’ve always felt distantly horrible about it — failing to take interest in something he holds so close to his heart. Hearing him reiterate that fact twists the knife lodged in your chest.

“That doesn’t bother you?” you wonder, impossibly shy. “That I don’t play?”

Eddie shrugs and sits the bin down again. “Why would that bother me?” he scoffs.

“I don’t know… ‘Cause you like it. And it’s your favorite thing to do in the whole world.”

“Well… Maybe not my favorite thing,” he croons with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Your nose scrunches in disdain. His laughter fills the empty room as his ringed hands spread warm along your sides. “I just feel bad,” you confess, gaze averted to the scuffed tile beneath your feet. “You know, that I can’t get into or whatever.”

Eddie meets your subtle pout with an unbothered grin. “There’s nothing to feel bad about. People like different things, babe. That’s life,” he assures you, squeezing softly at your sides. “I mean, it’s no different than me hating The Smiths, right? I still let you play their cassettes in the van, and you still sit in on all my campaigns— and that, sweetheart, is the meaning of true love…”

Unswayed, you jerk softly back when he leans down to kiss you. You frown up at him with your arms crossed between your bodies. “But Rory loves D&D. And she’s super pretty…”

Aurora Edwards was the newest edition to the Hellfire gang. She goes by Rory for short, though, ‘cause she’s cool like that and everything. Her dyed blonde hair is as wild as Eddie’s, cut into a makeshift mullet that sits sort of shaggy on her head — intentionally messy in a way only she can pull off. 

She likes cool music and cool clothes and cool hobbies — because everything she does seems to have some sort of subverted flair to it. She’s smart and she’s nerdy and she’s beautiful. None of which seem fair. You’ve been stirring with feelings of inadequacy since you met her. 

And Eddie doesn’t seem to get any of it. His brows furrow at your words, like none of them have any sort of meaning to him.

“She’s way more your type than I am,” you blurt.

A laugh sputters from his plush mouth. “You think my love for you is contingent on some stupid game?” he chuckles.

The way he says it makes you shrink. You feel sort of stupid about it now. “I don’t know…”

“Well, then, I have done a very shit job of being your boyfriend.”

Your chest stings. “No, you haven’t, Eddie—”

“Mm,” he hums, half playful, as he tilts his pretty head to his shoulder. “I have, though. ‘Cause if you think some other girl liking Dungeons and Dragons is gonna make me love you any less, then I have done something horribly, horribly wrong.”

You bite back a smile at his words, pursing your lips to the side of your mouth until the beam becomes impossible to ignore.

“‘Cause you’re kinda stuck with me, turns out,” the boy continues. “Unfortunately for you.”

“Unfortunately?” you echo with a scoff.

“Yeah. ‘Cause if some other schmuck comes around who likes listening to The Smiths and sitting in the sunshine, he’s gonna have to go through me.”

You breathe sharply through your nose in place of a laugh. “I don’t want another guy, Eds…” you confess, going shy all over again.

His nose scrunches as he plays coy. “Even if he doesn’t smoke?” he wonders in a sheepish murmur.

“Even if he doesn’t smoke.”

“Good,” he beams, pulling you into him by your belt loops. His breath fans over your jaw in a minty-nicotine concoction as he ducks his face closer to yours. “‘Cause I don’t want anyone else, either, alright? Even if they are almost as good as me at D&D… Actually, it’s kinda a turn-off, now that I’m thinking about it…”

“Is it?”

“Yeah… ‘Cause, like, I love teaching you about it and everything.”

“Even when I have no idea what you’re talking about?”

“Especially when you have no idea what I’m talking about,” he laughs, smiling so hard his cheeks speckle pink. “‘Cause you know how much I like it, so… You let me talk all the shit I want.”

“’S just because you’re so pretty when you talk about things you like,” you confess.

His face twists. “Am I?”

“Well, you’re pretty all the time, but…”

“You flatter me,” he huffs and pulls you closer. He smirks and goes quieter when he says, “And flattery goes a long way with me.”

“Does it?” you hum with a sunshine-coated giggle.

Eddie doesn’t answer you with words. He just presses his lips to your mouth and hopes you get the gist. His tongue swipes against yours, soft and sudden, as he guides you towards the table. You run into a rogue chair before he can get you on top of it. It screeches against the linoleum tile. 

With his face in your hands, you giggle against his mouth. His denim-clad knee slips between your thighs.

The door squeaks softly open then. Rory enters, swift and unthinking. You and Eddie pull apart — one looking much more horrified than the other — as the blonde girl stands frozen in the doorway. Drowning in her sweatshirt and baggy jeans, she points a lanky finger towards the table.

“Sorry,” she apologizes, voice gritty and deep. “I just left my girlfriend’s jacket here, and she doesn’t know I stole it, so… She’d definitely kill me if I forgot it.”

“That’s okay. Come in,” Eddie shrugs with a tightlipped smile, nodding his head in a silent invitation. When Rory plucks the coat from the back of her chair, he says, “Tell Jess I said hi, yeah?”

The girl scoffs as she heads back towards the door again, leaving just as quickly as she came. “She still hates you, you know that, right?” she laughs. ‘Cause Jess was a cheerleader — pretty and sometimes kind, but dreadfully conservative. Her uptight nature often clashed with Eddie’s much more chaotic one. 

“Well, tell her to get in line,” Eddie chuckles.

Before Rory leaves the room, she glances at the two of you over her shoulder. She winks with an eye smudged with black liner. “Have fun, you two,” she croons in a pretty voice before shutting the door behind her.

You stand, still and silent in place, wringing your anxious hands into a knot. Feeling like a total idiot, you refuse to meet Eddie’s gaze. You know he’s got a smug look on his face. You can hear the smirk in his voice when he says, “See? Not my type at all.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

miscellaneous fellow honest headcanons

These aren't following any prompt in particular, these are just thoughts I had when I saw the guy hammin' it up and then turning on us.

Some of these headcanons are informed by fan art I've seen and discussions I've had with friends, while others are purely me.

Curiouser and Curiouser...

He calls people “little lads” and “little ladies”.

Fellow has a very noticeable laugh. Like, he grunts and snorts and has tears rolling down his cheeks. (He tends to laugh at others’ misery, thinking of it as “retribution” or “payback” for the injustices he has suffered himself.)

Bro shaves using a knife (yes, he shaves because he is a grown ass man) because razors are hella expensive.

He uses that cheap cologne and cakes it on THICK. This, in his mind, gives off the impression that he’s a well-off and put-together individual you should tooootally trust.

Also the type of person that lays it on thick with his words. If he’s trying to impress a date or something, he’ll shower them with so many compliments it almost seems fake. But no, he’s just the type to simp hard when he happens to be genuine 💀 most of the time he’s faking it though—

He’s very street smart, but in a way where he confuses hostile people by talking over them and acting overly friendly. They usually stuns them long enough for him and Gidel to skedaddle.

If he gets dumped, he'd be the pathetic whimpering boyfriend that begs for his ex to take him back. When they inevitably don't, he mopes all day about it.

He chain smokes and aggressively drinks as a coping mechanism on his bad days 😔 and sometimes he gambles (like, on those scratch-off cards) hoping that he'll strike it rich and buy him and Gidel a better life...

Basically, he generally does not have his shit together but tries his best to pass like someone who does (and usually succeeds at it).

Fellow appears in public wearing his full suit, but at home (ie whatever ratty temporary housing their boss found for them before they move on to the next place) he just wears a T-shirt and lounges around in boxers (and sometimes socks with holes in them).

He uses those disposable eyeshadow wands that snap in half at the slightest bit of too much pressure. Fellow acts like the Claire’s kid makeup he uses is the luxury stuff, but Vil can tell the pigmentation isn’t all there and there’s MAD fallout.

He may be broke AF and have his moments of emotional spiraling, but he has pretty decent budgeting skills. Fellow lives for sales and does extreme couponing to stretch their money as far as it will go.

He invests in other cost-saving methods like wearing shoes until the sole is literally flopping off and just adding water to residual soap in a pump bottle to make the soap "last longer".

Fellow is really good at cutting food (bread, beans) thin to conserve it. Yes, this is a reference to an old Mickey Mouse cartoon—

When he was younger, he had dreams of being an actor (and, more specifically, starring in musicals). That's why he's often humming, swinging around his cane, and/or whistling as he's on the prowl for idiots to sucker—they're remainders of his thespian days before his dreams were crushed into itty bitty pieces.

Man looks like he'd be great at tap dancing.

Before his current gig, he tried a bunch of other scams including a MLM at one point to get by. His signature spell came in pretty clutch in those days too.

Fellow’s not that good at reading or spelling—in fact, he was never a particularly strong student. (“I didn’t fail school!! The schools failed ME!!”) He’s easily frustrated by academics and thinks there should be more hands-on and practical skills taught in learning institutions.

I think it's a given that he and Ruggie would be besties since they both want to eat the rich but I also think Fellow would kiss ass to Azul and then rage about how shitty + entitled Azul is (Azul reminds Fellow of his boss)💀 Scammers hate other scammers because they're both competing to scam the same people--

Even though Fellow is an asshole to most others (well, when he’s not flattering them to lure them into a trap), he’s always nice to Gidel and puts him first. If there’s ever a situation where they’re short on something (clothes, food, etc), Gidel gets priority. This is why Gidel has a full outfit (even if parts are patches or mismatched) whereas Fellow himself has a glove that is so worn out there’s a hole in one of the pinkie fingers.

Fellow may not be blessed with a bounty of magic, but he’s quick on his feet and good with words. Because of these skills, he’s talented at spinning bedtime stories, which he often tells to Gidel to help him fall asleep on nights that are particularly cold and nasty.

Gidel still believes in Santy Claws and wishing upon stars, and Fellow doesn’t have the heart to tell him the truth. He’ll figure it out on his own one day, Fellow thinks. He just doesn’t want to be the one to ruin those childhood joys for him.

Playing pretend is another shared past time of theirs. It helps Fellow get into character before he goes off to swindle people, and it gives Gidel a way to express himself in spite of being mute. They have a routine they do together where Fellow pretends to be a doctor diagnosing a patient and Gidel takes down notes for him as his medical scribe. Yes, this is a Pinocchio reference—

They actually have many more games they play (mainly because they cannot afford other forms of entertainment). Some of the games are clever ruses conjured by Fellow to teach Gidel survival tips and tricks: the who-can-make-their-piece-of-bread-last-longer game, hide-and-seek (from the authorities), etc.

For special occasions, Fellow saves up some money on the side to grant Gidel little luxuries, like a box of crayons to doodle with.

Gidel hugs Fellow’s leg or waist to cheer him up when he’s upset. He also hides behind Fellow when he’s scared or feeling shy.

He’s just really attached to Gidel cuz they have no one else in this cruel world, just them against the world 😔 He sees a lot of his younger self in the little boy… the opportunities lost because of their circumstances… “It’s alright, Gidel. Leave it to Fellow-sama.”

[sang-i-fetge]

List of Jason Todd/Red Hood's weapons/gadgets/touys

Note: This is mostly from comics written by Winick, as I refuse to acknowledge most of n52. Feel free to add more, though!

Note2: This post was originally formatted in a different way, as I foolishly forgot about the image limit.

Blades

1— His iconic dagger!

Can cut through stone, and most of Batman's gear. It's been heavily debated what kind of knife it is; wether a kris, a parrying dagger, or a third secret thing.

2— The blades he gives Mia to defend herself!

I'm not sure what kind of blade they are, they vaguely look like wakizashis? Their size varies from panel to panel so idk😔

3— The katana for the 'duel' with Oliver!

4— And to link with the next section, the exploding katana!

Yes, it's a katana that explodes. Jason baits Oliver into holding it.

Explosives

— First of all, he blows up many many things and it's not specified what exactly he uses. So the unspecified explosives that only appear as a cool fireball panel get a bullet point.

5— The jumble of explosives in the Final Confrontation™️, we can see some dynamite, C4...

6— Bomb in a crate

7— Small bomb. Not lethal!

8— Bigger bomb. Yes lethal.

9— Continuing with this absolute icon: the bomb under the Batmobile (should I capitalize that?)

10— Small Rocket, used against Brick

11— Grenade?

12— Small, cylinder-shaped explosives. Detonated upon impact?

13— Small explosive that attaches to flat surfaces, used against Dr Freeze

14— Grenade.

15— Molotov Cocktail

16— Enough C4 to destroy a whole building, modded so it explodes if its temperature reaches one point, countering Batman's method of freezing bombs.

17— My absolute favorite, the exploding helmet!

Even if it's listed under 'explosives', it's also an important piece of technology in the Red Hood's arsenal.

Firearms

18, 19— The guns in the wall from Annual #25, there's surely more.

20— Machine guns hidden in crates!

21— Machine guns hidden in cars!

22— Rocket launcher, used against Black Mask

23— Even more hidden machine guns! This time in an electricity pole.

24— Machine gun (also hidden, but surprisingly not attached to anything)

25— Handgun👍

26— AK-47, you know the panel from where it's from

27— Submachine guns, I think 🙂

28— When out of ammo he uses his guns as blunt weapons, which I wanted to note

Tasers

29— The nazi-killing taser

30— The reason for the creation of this post! The grapple line taser! Attach it to a grapple line and it will shock whoever is connected to it. Noticed it in a reread of utrh and needed people to see it

31— Bonus: the bat-symbol taser. Iconic enough to be here.

Tech & Surveillance

32— Monitor and microphone?

33, 34— cameras :)

35— thing to see the feed of the cameras

36, 37— phones :)

38— his little tech den in #650

39, 40— computers :)

41— whatever this thing is

42— The surveillance device that looks like he taped a canon camera to his face

43— Wiretaps!

44— Bugs!

He also has his evil lair in B&R2009 bugged.

Miscellaneous

45— Does his crowbar count

46— smoke bomb!!

47— Injectable adrenaline. He just has that in his utility belt.

48— His batmobile-evade suit.

49— Is saying his belt buckle mean

50— Unspecified poison! Goodbye Egon

51— This thing that attaches to its target and launches them off

Not pictured:

The fancy weapon dressing he gives onyx to patch up the shoulder wound he inflicted (I forgot to screenshot 💔)

Also, he has this whole hq-ish thing in Annual #25

(Edit: That rectangle in the gun wall kinda looks like an anti-drone gun now that I think abt it)

It has a murder board, which I think is cute.

[hacksawing]

hello tumblr i haven’t been dead whatever do you mean!!! art blast GO💥💥💥

au rocket where he stayed in playground! probably got caught up in gang violence rest in pieces

buster design is for flipside :] I LOVE FLIPSIDESMP

aand a couple miscellaneous doodles

mega charizard x buster

[romanoffsbish]

Could you do prompts 4, 14, & 20 with Wanda? Thank you!! <3

An Alluring Touch

Wanda Maximoff x F!R

Smut Prompts | WC: 1,665 Words

Meddling friends, and drunken games…

Smut: Mommy(W) | Thigh Riding (R) | Choking | Strap(R) | Jealousy | Soft

18+ — Minors DNI — Labeled

"Shall we play a game Romanoff?" Natasha rolled her eyes but turned to face the arrogant man anyways. The party had long since lost the appeal that the early hours carry, so she was just bored enough to humor him. "Depends. What do you propose we arrange Stark?"

The redhead saw his gaze float over to you, who was sat alone on a couch nursing a glass of wine, bored and completely unaware of the eyes around the room observing you. His focus then moved on to the witch a few paces behind with her heart eyes set on your beautiful face.

Natasha smirked at the notion. "Oh, I'm in."

——

Tony beamed, slammed the rest of his scotch, then clapped to get the entire room's attention. Everyone grumbled knowingly. "Now, now, don't get too excited," he taunted, "Everyone meet in the middle, it's time to play a game."

"What game?" Maria asked as she plopped onto a couch, a smile graced her face as Nat settled atop of her lap as it was her rightful spot. Her question was answered in a hush against her lips, she hummed in amusement, and leaned back into the couch with her lover.

"Well Hill, I decided the sexual tension in the room wasn't settling on its own," he teased, catching Wanda's glare with a returned smirk. "So, I've had Friday create an algorithm for a few random rounds of seven minutes in heaven. All of us with partners were spared."

Friday immediately followed him up with a textbook definition of the party game, many of the men in the room shifted at the raunchy end of her description. Then she called out: "The first participant will be, Y/N Y/L/N."

Wanda saw Bucky's eyes light up when your name was called and she clenched her fists. Tony and Natasha shared a humored glance, then as if Friday was in on the joke she stalled before deciding your fate: "Wanda Maximoff."

The witch sent Bucky a triumphant smile, then confidently made her way over to you. With each click of her heels on the ground your heart would skip, and when her hand was palm up before your face it had practically stopped. It took a second, but you softly accepted the gesture, and let her pull you up off the couch.

Wanda guided you away, the sounds of wolf whistles ignored as she took you off to the neighboring room, and guided you into the supply closet full of miscellaneous objects.

For an entire minute you just sat on a shelf and stared at your fiddling fingers. Wanda kept her eyes on you, trailing over your shy form while you were none the wiser. Until you finally had the courage to spare her a glance, catching on to her darkened gaze. You could feel your heart beating in your core at the implications. Wanda bit her lip, and decided to move in for the kill.

"Can I touch you?" Wanda watched you toy with the idea, then in a bold move you got up and straddled her lap. “Do whatever you want.”

Wanda’s eyes lit up, neither of you expected such a response, but being confined in a small space made you acutely aware of the tension. It was unbearable, especially when you could now piece together every other time you’d not seen the clear adoration. Your eyes fell to the way Wanda’s tongue darted out, preparing her lips for what was to come. Lids encased your shiny orbs, and your mind went fuzzy as you melted into the embrace of her plump lips with yours.

Wanda’s hands gripped your waist, holding you up as she moved her left leg between yours, there was nothing to hold her back from claiming and destroying you now, you were hers. You groaned in anticipated shock as your puffy folds dripping with arousal, thinly covered in white lace, brushed against the gruff feel of her favored corduroys.

The witch watched with her mouth agape, labored breaths following the opening as she was privileged enough to see your eyes cross and to feel your body shiver, with your pulse now drumming erratically beneath her fingers as she suddenly wrapped them around your throat, and pulled you in for a rough kiss.

Your bodies buzzed in sync, you were well on your way to climaxing, and the thought of your slick being so abundant that it would seep through the thick material encasing her leg made her pace brutal as she sought to prolong the high she had already become addicted to.

Wanda couldn’t think of anything else besides you as she swirled her tongue around your mouth and blocked the moans from leaving. Nothing else mattered. Not even your friends just around the corner. Or the anger she felt for Natasha and Tony manufacturing this first that she dreamed will be many’s afterwards.

You too dreamed of that as you screamed into the crook of her neck as you felt the unending heat between your legs from the friction of the contradictory fabrics brushing against your greatest sensitivity. Wanda was moaning too, and you just pictured her powers likely being used to stimulate her because she just couldn’t help it but to get off at the same time with you.

Nothing else mattered to you either. No one else. Wanda was all you had the room to know.

That knowledge of their existence had honestly slipped your mind after the kiss. Wanda had initially caught all of your whorish moans with her lips. But then she pulled away to kiss down the expanse of your throat, feeling the vibrations of the glorious sounds you were releasing as she nipped at the veiled muscle. Her core throbbed at the way you reacted to her thigh rubbing against you—she imagined just how much louder you’d be riding her strap, her heart felt purposeful; it’s oddly romantic.

"Tell me how it feels. It doesn't hurt does it?" You shook your head with a sideways grin that she felt against her skin as you’d just burrowed into her neck, your mind too far gone to process much of a coherent response at the moment. “Fuck Y/N, you’re just so beautiful, I am on the verge of falling apart, let mommy see you detka, please.”

You felt your walls shudder, physically and metaphorically as you pulled away with a shy glance up before your once trembling lower lip was caught between your grinding teeth. The pace had slowed significantly, your glossed eyes found her nervous pair. You offered her a confused smile, and she chuckled softly.

Wanda smiled, and began to pepper your collar with firm kisses, sucking and nipping at the skin every once in awhile to keep you on the edge as she’d only briefly tease your breasts.

"You're more than just a fling, my love." Wanda quelled your obvious fears with absolution, her hand briefly brought yours up to her lips, where she gently kissed your knuckles before she dropped it over her heart. “This only beats for you my dear, I adore you.”

Your body took that as permission to finally let go, and you slammed your lips into hers, teeth knocking as you silently screamed her praises. Her lips tore from yours a second later as her eyes desperately sought to see you losing it.

She wasn’t disappointed as she watched your chest rise and fall in stuttered ways. You were cursing softly as she kept rubbing you against her to prolong the ecstasy for you both. She could now feel your sticky warmth, and her heart beamed with unbreakable pride.

“Fuck, that was so hot Y/N,” she couldn’t hide the excitement, and you mirrored it. Wanda wanted to say so much more, but she heard the purposeful sounds of an assassin’s footsteps.

“Let's continue this in my room..." You nodded without hesitation and she pressed a soft kiss to your cheek just before the calvary arrived.

Natasha swung the doors open with a smug smirk at the sight of your disheveled forms. Wanda's hair was no longer pristine, but instead it laid over her shoulders in a messy set of waves, and your shirt was no longer tucked into your skirt, the collar was stained with red

“Once you two get settled, consider giving Maria and I a ring,” the redhead winked, then walked away with a red tint to her skin that caused the both of you to giggle affectionately.

“I’m not a fan of sharing,” you admitted with a pout on your face. Wanda’s gaze softened and she pressed her lips to the crease between your brows. “Me either detka,” she said as her lips pressed against yours in a slow, steady kiss.

“What the hell is taking you girls so long?” Bucky asked just before shrieking, the man with military traumas was mortified into flushing bright red and vacating the room.

Wanda chuckled hot breath against the curve of your ear, her hands gripped your hips possessively as she whispered: “I’m glad he understands his place now; you’re mine.”

You whimpered, and your legs clamped around her thigh. Wanda kissed your cheek, then swirled her hand until you were sat in her bed. Hovering her lap in nothing, your needy hole that dripped the evidence onto her milky thighs just out of reach of the thick strap she wore.

“Ride me like a good girl who’s desperate for…”

“Her mommy,” you cut her off with glee. The woman gasped, her ego inflated and within an instant she had flipped positions. “On second thought, I think mommy will just fuck you into the mattress until your begging me to stop!”

You screamed in pure joy as her strap filled you in one thrust. Then the world faded to static as her hips bumped into yours, likely to bruise with the sheer force she was putting into her thrusts. With her you’d finally found nirvana.

——

[zuccnini]

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☆ Commissions: Ko-fi │ Etsy [ Commissions are open on a revolving basis I tend to only accept 2 commissions at a time, when those are complete I re-open them ]

Mini Painting [Pokemon] │ Mini Sculptures │Sketch/Watercolor

Other places to find me:

Twitter(inactive) │ IG (Inactive) │ Blusky │ Cara

Craft Blog @zuccninis │ Sketch Blog @squashni

Miscellaneous info below (Mediums, Contact, etc):

Mediums: I'm a traditional artist and my main medium is watercolor.

I'm not being paid to promote any specific brand, if your looking to start out use what is accessible and affordable to you! With that said here is what I use:

Watercolor: Renesans Half pans, Holbein watercolor tubes, Winsor & Newton Professional, and Daniel Smith Extra Fine Watercolor.

Watercolor inks: Dr. Ph Martins Radiant Concentrated watercolor and Ecoline Liquid Water Colour (These are why some of my watercolor pieces are so vibrant.)

Brushes: 0.5, 1 & 2 Foldable travel watercolor brushes, and those waterfilled brushes.

Paper: Fabriano Hot Pressed Watercolor paper, I usually bind these into my own books.

Other Mediums: Microns, Prismacolor Color Pencils, Posca Wax pastels, Paint markers, Tombow water based markers, Ballpoint pens, Acryla Gouache, and Crayola crayons.

If you are looking to get into watercolor my best advice is to invest in actual watercolor paper. For watercolor the most important thing is the paper, nice paper can make even crayola look beautiful. 300 Gsm is ideal.

For Mini Paintings:

Liquitex Acrylic Gouache and Golden SoFlat Acrylics

Mini Canvases (3x3in)

Mini Easels (5in)

Clear Gesso

Small paintbrushes, brand does not matter I tend to buy whatever is tiny and is a reasonable price. I use Synthetic brushes.

It should be noted that I do scan in all my artwork, I use a epson perfection v370, I've had this scanner for years and it works pretty well, you just need to mess around with the settings. I edit all my art in Clip Studio Paint to remove any lint or dust and to fix up colors.

[Traditional art can be pretty expensive so I recommend if your looking to try any medium to buy a little bit at a time and buy things piecemeal.]

Other Info:

Business Contact: zuccnini@gmail.com [Don't send me unsolicited trash]

If you wish to contact me for other matters most of my DM's are closed, Best places to contact me is Etsy for order issues, or Ko-Fi. (Don't ask me for my Discord that's for friends only.)

If You see my art getting reposted/re-uploaded, report it, the only accounts I post on are included above. Anywhere else I'm being impersonated. Please don't support low quality repost accounts that steal art from actual artists. Many times these accounts screw over actual artists since they love to monetize and sell stolen work.

I schedule posts on here on all my accounts! Schedule is Mon-Wed-Friday on Zuccnini, Bonus posts/Reblogs are Tues-Thurs and Saturday-Sunday.

Dont tag my OC / Original Character art with "pokemon" or any other fandom tags, This is NOT a pokemon blog this is my illustration blog.

As for Fanart: People are free to draw and commission art of my OCs, feel free to tag me in it! I do ask no nsfw without my permission.

That's most of the info I can think to include for this.

-

Extra-Curricular art:

[18+ Obviously]

nsfw twitter │ NSFW Bluesky

[psyknight72]

A miscellaneous Ecological Similar Pokémon idea for Cacnea and Cacturne, based on corals

Coracnea (Water) “With a body able to retain water without issue, much like Cacnea, Coracnea is able to stand out of water without difficulties. While it usually remains underwater, when it comes out of it, it uses its vivid colors to get the attention of other Pokémon to predate on them, using its hard coral branches”

Coracturne (Water/Ghost) “Upon evolving, Coracturne body becomes more demanding regarding nutrients, to the point of ending up bleached and forcing it to predate in land more often. During the day it remains motionless on the floor, just as if it was a beached piece of dead coral, but during the night it will impale mercilessly whatever other living being that it finds to suck it dry”

[endereies]

HAIR TIE - MS

No Nut November - Day 19

NNN Masterlist...

-➤ Matt learns how to braid his daughters hair

Taking care of an adorable baby girl was always Matt’s dream, he had always practiced how to take care of a baby. All their requirements, meanings of behaviour, that man could write an essay. One thing that he hadn’t prepared for was his child growing up. Their characteristics started to change and meanings had been rewritten. He felt almost inadequate.

Mila would reach up into your arms and would simultaneously cower from his. She hadn’t meant it of course. Mothers have a natural connection to their child; they supply them with everything they need. All he wanted was to be included.

When you went on a trip with one of your friends, Matt was prepared. He knew the routine you had begun with Mila, waking her up, having breakfast and then getting her ready for the day.

Breakfast was easy enough. A slice to toast was cut into little strips with a boiled egg that was still runny inside. Matt typically made breakfast, so this was an easy feat. But when it came to getting Mila ready, his confidence was struck.

“Which outfit today, baby? We have Bluey and black leggings or…Peppa Pig and pink leggings.” He held up the pair of outfits to either side of his body, letting her see them first hand.”

“Bluey!” She practically jumped at and down at the reminder of her favourite show, even Matt wasn’t surprised that it was the choice.

Mila lifted up her arms so that the shirt could be placed over her head. When it was one, she was sure to pull it into her eyesight, giggling as she named each the characters.

“Sweetie how do you want your hair done today?” His daughter tapped her chin as she pondered slightly “Braids please.”

Shit. That was the one style Matt prayed she wouldn’t utter. He had tried continuously to attempt the style, knowing it was Mila’s favourite and yet he couldn’t grasp it. The hair never twisted right and it looked a mess most of the time. With you no longer there to aid him, he felt a tighten in his chest. “Of course, just sit there m’kay?”

Mila nodded exaggeratedly before bringing her attention to the miscellaneous items displayed over the vanity. He wasn’t about to say no to his daughter and YouTube was the first thing he pulled up. Every other time he had tried to braid was through your own voiced aid, this was his next best shot.

The video played on a low volume and he watched intently as he brushed through her hair. Following the instructions, he parted her hair evenly down the centre which created two even sections. To simplify things further, he tied a small band around the bunch of hair, hoping that he wouldn’t get confused.

Over. Under. Over. Matt repeated it like a mantra, chanting with the video so he didn’t get lost. Thankfully, her hair wasn’t insanely long or thick which aided the trial and error. His fingers twiddled the piece of hair and when the band was wrapped around whatever was left, he admired it. Sure, it wasn’t perfect, the odd strand poking out but it was a braid.

With astound confidence, he moved swiftly onto the next braid. Matt backtracked the video and tried again, remembering to tighten how he held the strands so that it wasn’t fall like the other. It was progress and he couldn’t ask for anything else.

“There you go, look good?”

“Yes! Thanks daddy!” Her words were joyous as she picked each of his accomplishments up and looked down at them with crossed eyes.

“Anything for you, baby…”

@melliflws @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @bueckerrss @worldlxvlys @raysmayhem-72 @patscorner @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @luverboychris @jnkvivi @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @shorthairchris @colorthecosmos444 @anabethinking @zay-sturns @anyaa2s @emilyfaith2003 @jassturn @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @sturniolosiphone @ribread03 @slutf4rmatt @spaghetti835928383 @flouvela

© ENDEREIES 2024

[valsverse]

"here comes the sun."

synopsis: a son of poseidon and a child of apollo is quite an interesting combination. pairing: percy jackson x gn child of apollo reader headcanons. word count: 0.8k

• First of all, absolute power couple.

• Percy's expertise in water-based activities and your talents in archery and healing provides a unique balance and synergy in your relationship. Together, you're a powerhouse of skill and talent. You'd both be able to play off each other's strengths and cover each other's weaknesses very well, with your different skills being an advantage. (everybody knows this. you two aren't allowed to be on the same team of Capture the Flag anymore because in no world would that be a fair game.)

• Percy is absolutely in awe of you. He thinks you're the coolest person in the world and he's especially enamored with your musical talent. He feels a deep sense of pride whenever you perform because not only is he amazed by your abilities and dedication but also, you're this talented??? How??? Like, you're gorgeous, intelligent, skillful, AND you can shred on the guitar?? Leave some for the rest of us, damn.

• Painting dates!! Sort of. Most of the time they consist of Percy doodling on the side of your canvas while you actually paint, but neither of you mind. Percy's drawings are — in your opinion — the highlight of the entire date. Some of your favorite doodles of his include stick figure drawings of you and him, copies of whatever you're painting, and random water buffalos for literally no reason whatsoever… but they're kinda cute though.

• Jam sessions in music stores aren't uncommon when the two of you are on break. They usually consist of you trying out different instruments while Percy trails behind you, asking the most miscellaneous questions.

"What's this thing?" Percy asks, holding up a device that he found while you were browsing. "It's a capo," you respond, checking the price tag on a lyre you've had your eye on. "It's used to raise the pitch of the strings on a guitar by clamping onto the head." "Why's it look like a laundry clip?" "Some questions are better left unanswered, Percy."

• Percy is big on quality time and he loves partaking in your interests. He never really bothered to improve at archery, but if you're practicing it then he's going with you, even if he's not very good at it. He doesn't even particularly mind when you chide him for messing up because he can tell by your smile that you're not really mad at him and — okay, he's not exactly trusted around your guitar anymore either, but it's the thought that counts.

• Your boyfriend loves, loves, LOVES when you show off your artistic abilities. Just when he thought you couldn't get more talented, he sees you working on a painting and, gosh, it's like he fell in love all over again. He just finds it so impressive how you can tell so many stories through your art, and he most definitely has a few of your pieces framed. He lets you draw on his personal belongings all the time. His sneakers, skateboard, you get the point. And he always stares at them whenever he starts to miss you too. Hell, he'll even let you doodle on his arm if you want to. (he traces over your doodles when they start to fade.)

• One of Percy's love languages is definitely physical touch. Whether it's a hand around your waist or an arm slung around your shoulder, he's always touching you in one way or another. He also shows his physical affection with smaller gestures, such as linking pinkies, leaning his knee against yours, playing with your fingers, etc. Also, hand kisses. A lot of them. I'm talking Jane Austen style, warm kisses to each of your fingers before parting.

• Matching jewelry!! A while back, you gifted him a sun necklace, which he proudly wears around the camp. In return, he bought you an ocean charm for your charm bracelet.

"So we can match!" Explained Percy, clipping on the charm to your bracelet as you held out your hand for him. "And look," He said once it was secured. Percy flipped over the charm to reveal your initials and his, joined with a plus sign engraved on the back. The charm jingles around whenever you two hold hands, which causes both of you to smile. ( + percy runs his fingers over the necklace you gifted him whenever he starts to miss you :( )

• Percy often collects things that remind him of you. Lemon-flavored candy, sunflowers, heart-shaped rocks, you name it. He keeps them all arranged neatly on his desk, right next to the origami hippocampi you made for him.

• You two are so in sync with each other, it's crazy. If you're ever in a "don't laugh." situation, do NOT look over at Percy because the second you two make eye contact, you'll be laughing up a storm.

• Your personalities complement each other so well; your presence being a soothing balance to Percy's sometimes impulsive and unpredictable personality. You're the light of his life and he wouldn't have it any other way.

a/n

thank u for all the requests, but i decided to go with this one!! requests are still open tho cuz im in desperate need of inspo. (ik it says requests open for riodanverse but i mainly write for just percy now.)

okok see u next time!!

xx, val.

[karlachismylife]

Don't You Forget About Me

Since @killerpancakeburger already had the most perfect Soap idea with this prompt, I decided to sit and think: what would be the situation where Soap actually didn't wanna kiss? Mission imposible?

Well, I might've found the solution.

CW: reader is Soap's mother (literally), so (potentially bad) Scottish yelling and scolding, very silly and unserious, not even pretending to be realistic.

(Title fom a song by Simple Minds)

You were going to give him a piece of your mind alright. He had always been a troublemaker, the sole source of white and grey peppered in your respectable hairbun, but the bare minumum you expected from your eejit of a son was to take your words seriously when you asked not to go to that mission. That one mission, mind you, out of every crazy and dangerous endeavour your Johnny got up to since before he could walk properly (although he skipped the phase entirely, immediately opting to run) - you always supported him and tried to be understanding.

You flicked his nose when he came home dirty after playing football in the rain and prepared warm dinner while he cleaned himself and washed his own clothes like a good boy. You sighed and ruffled what was left of his hair the day he returned with that moronic haircut, beaming like the sun itself. You slapped upside his head and scolded him before pulling out his favourite out of the oven after he was kicked out from whatever military base he tried to sneak into to be like his cousin.

Johnny could call you strict, scary and warn all his mates of you with a shit-eating grin all he wanted, but you were sure you had never given him a reason to believe you would worry over nothing.

"Dinnae fash yersel, Mam," was all you got after a hearfelt and arguemented plea to stay away from trouble this time, along with a kiss on a cheek, and there he went.

Not so fast, John MacTavish.

Of course he got his stubborness and determination to get whatever he wanted from you. The amount of times he ran off before he was of age just to try his luck and get enlisted? The clenching of his proud Scottish jaw as he pushed himself to do better, lift heavier, shoot sharper, run faster? Once Johnny was set on something, he went all-in. Too bad sitting still and quiet in school never got to be one of his priorities even for a week. But that's how you raised him, and if anyone could match him, it was you.

You were suprised how easy it was to bully and bribe your way into the base. Just an unthreatening older woman with some home-cooked pie, already sliced up for the sweet, sweet boys at the entrance.

Och, yer Ma' usually bakes these too? 'N' wi' some carrot? Ye should ask her fur a recipe, leannan, Ah will lea' ye mines sae we can exchange. Ah actually hae mah laddie right there oan th' base, he's a sergeant, aye, mah muckle laddie. Ah wanted tae surprise him wi' his fave', bit didnae ken tis sae secreteve 'ere… Mibbie ye could pass it tae him? Och but it'll get cauld 'n' nasty… Och, ye will let me in fur a few minutes? Well aren't ye th' sweetest wee jimmies. Yer Mams must be proud o' ye, Ah ken Ah'm, knowing such mighty lads are protecting us.

Breaching the first line of defence was a piece of cake - well, pie. The second went even smoother, no one paying attention to you as you simply floated along the perimeter, avoiding miscellaneous looks from busy officers and privates bustling about their day. Hiding in plane sight, not even trying to blend in - you minced in your old trusty shoes up to the big area with several aircrafts scattered around.

Aha. That's your goal. You adjusted your purse on your shoulder and moved to continue your way, when someone finally noticed your unwanted presence.

"Is that a... who the hell let a civilian in the landing zone? Oi! M'am! M'am, stop! M'am, you're not supposed to be here!"

Hearing someone's heavy steps picking up behind your back, you kept your steady stride for a few more moments, eyes scanning the vast plane of the zone, determined to find at least someone you knew - and they you hit jackpot. Loud thumping of helicopter blades, distant at first, grew rapidly, almost deafening at the point when someone's heavy hand grabbed your elbow.

"M'am, are you lost? It's dangerous here! DAN-GE-ROUS!" The officer yelled into your ear, probably both hoping to overpower the landing helicopter and thinking you were old, frail and deaf.

Such a naive lad.

That metal bird barely stopped chirping before you wriggled out of the officer's grasp and sprinted towards several tall figures unloading from the helo. Your target stood straight, big headphones denting his ruffled mohawk, already up for a trimming. He definitely heard the officer's loud yelling, turned around, curious as ever, and locked eyes with you - all laughter wiped off his face immediately, baby blues he inherited from you round and popping out of their sockets.

"Mam?! Wha' are ye doin'-" - "JOHN MACTAVISH! Dinnae "mam" me, ye reckless bampot! Ah didnae raise ye tae be a sleekit potatoe waving yer own mother off!"

You jumped away from the officer who almost caught up with you and used your purse to shield yourself from him, never losing pale and positively terrified and dumbfounded Johnny out of sight.

"Get awa' from me, ye eejit, that's mah son 'n' Ah'm talking tae him! Look at me, Johnny!" You finally reached him and tilted your stern face up, glaring at yout sheepish son. His eyes stopped darting around and snapped directly at you. Still a good boy, after all. "Dae ye hae any idea how worried Ah was? Come 'ere now or Ah will drag ye by yer scruff, Ah swear. Come 'ere!"

You reached up to cup hus face, noticing a fresh bruise and a split brow, your motherly heart aching, but still proud that your wee boy came back from a dangerous operation alive. With teary eyes, you tried to pull him in for a big forgiving smooch, but he finally unfroze and pulled back, slowly starting to go red in his cheeks - so his ears must have been burning for some time already. Still, you looked at him, outraged, and huffed, propping one hand on your hip.

"What? Ah wanntae kiss mah laddie!" You could see Johnny's face flush brighter, mortified expression cut into his pleading eyebrows. He shouldn't have been doing that, that nasty scar was bleeding hardeer, your poor wee boy.

"''ere?! Richt naew?!" Before you could even start scolding him for denying his own mother such a simple thing, someone else's rich voice cut in through barely suppressed laughter.

"Come on, Johnny, tha's no way to talk to your mother. Be a good boy 'n' give 'er a big kiss." Recognizing Ghost from your laddie's tales wasn't hard at all - you met his dark, hooded eyes and gave him a firm, grateful nod, which he reciprocated with a gruff chuckle.

Defeated, Johnny leaned down, sliding his headphones down to his neck, and didn't even hiss as you yanked him by his ear lower to give him a loud, loving smooch on his cheek.

On the way out they sourced four big lads to escort you. As if the whole army would be able to stop you if you decided to give your son a proper whooping.

[steviewashere]

Perfect Timing

Rating: General CW: References to Sex Tags: Established Relationship, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Marriage Proposals, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Future Fic, Dialogue Heavy

For the @steddielovemonth prompt: "Love is having hope for the future together."

💕—————💕

Steve was sitting at the dining table, hands spread out on the surface, staring down at a piece of mail when he heard Eddie clamber through the front door. Based on the string of things being dropped and Eddie not reacting negatively, just sighing a little bit and picking things up, must mean he was having a good day.

It’s funny, Steve thinks, that he knows the way in which Eddie’s emotions express when he comes through the front door of their shared space. They began renting an apartment in Chicago just a year or so after getting together. Tail end of 1986 meant sharing a bed and house by August of 1987. And it’s theirs. Filled with miscellaneous clutter—a bookshelf brimmed with books, coffee table layered with Sports Illustrated and Heavy Metal magazines, dice and keys and Topps baseball cards, and picture frames they dust and drawings from Eddie’s sketchbooks and ‘failed’ art projects of Steve’s that Eddie thought were masterpieces. Point is, they’ve made it their home. And they started their lives with a breath of fresh air.

And now it’s 1995, depending on one another’s reactions, this all may just crumble at their feet.

See, Eddie was out playing a demo tape for a small record company based here in Chicago. A little indie place that’s been looking to expand their music catalogue from contemporary to a broader lick of alternative genres. Which, it turns out, includes thrash and heavy metal. Which, Steve adores, Eddie is amazing at performing.

But, Steve? He’s been anxiously waiting all day for the mail to arrive. Biting down on his fingernails, chewing them up so much they bleed and he has to run his fingertips under lukewarm water. Pacing the carpet of the living room. Pushing down and peering through the eggshell blinds. Biting his fingernails, again. And then it came and now he’s at their dining table and now he’s waiting for Eddie to careen around the corner and kiss his hair and ask in his greeting Steve voice, “What’s this, baby?”

“What’s this, baby?” Steve hears from above him. He jumps a little bit. Maybe he should have put on music or something, try to get himself to stay grounded in the present. “Stevie?” Eddie calls.

“Oh, uh,” Steve stutters. “It’s a letter I got in the mail, but I—I wanna hear about your demo tape.” Eddie gives him a sidelong glance. A little furrow to his eyebrows, a frown. “The letter isn’t anything bad, I read it already. But I don’t know how you’ll feel about it.”

Eddie hums, nodding in slow understanding. He slides into the dining seat across from Steve. Mirroring his position. Then, he realizes, based on whatever face Steve makes, that it’s only anxiety inducing. He sets his chin in his right palm, stretching the other onto the table for Steve to take. Waiting patiently. And says, when Steve actually grabs back, “It went really well, sweetheart. They offered me a contract.”

“That’s great news, Eds! What did—Did you sign it? Please tell me you signed it.”

Then, Eddie sighs. And Steve shrinks a little. “I did,” he tells slowly, as if testing the words for the first time. “I signed it. They’re keeping me based here. I’ll start recording next Saturday.” He squeezes at Steve’s hand.

“What’s the long face for, then?”

“I’m not making a face,” Eddie feebly argues.

“You are!” And Steve mocks him. Frowning, eyes distant to the surface of the table, bunching his eyebrows impossibly farther down his face. His shoulders slump. “That’s what you did! What happened? Were they pieces of shit to you or something? Did they like—Are they underselling your music prowess or something? Do I need to kick their—“

Eddie chuckles. His laughter like honey. “Babe, breathe for me,” he whispers. “My only issue is that—“ But he cuts himself off there. He leans in across the table. Eyes down at the letter in front of Steve. “That’s a letter from the community college, isn’t it?”

Steve pulls his hands back, laying them palm down on the paper. He swallows thickly. “It is. Why?”

“Did you get in?”

“I’m not telling you until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“You telling me determines whether or not I have a genuine problem. So…Did you get into the college that you’ve been looking at forlorn every time we drive by it? Or did you not and I need to go kick some old people ass?” His eyes are large in earnest. Grinning like the Cheshire Cat. His hair curtaining his face, making his facial features impossibly darker, shadowed by something tricky.

Steve chews on his lip. “I got in,” he mutters. “I got into their English literature program. And once I’m done with that, I transfer. And once I transfer, I start classes at a four year. I’ll be studying English literature and secondary education,” he rambles. His fingers tap over the letter. “Is that…Does that ruin your whole music dream? I don’t want to be the reason that you chase something else.”

For a moment, the room goes scary still and silent. Eddie’s facial features soften. And Steve’s heart rabbits against his ribcage. Hard enough that he slides a palm over his t-shirt, massaging at the rapid beating, hoping that he doesn’t have a heart attack on the third floor of their complex. That would suck, he thinks bitterly. And my future would be done for.

He sits back in his chair. Anxiety thrumming under his skin when Eddie still doesn’t say anything. Just keeps looking at him like he’s…Like he’s planning an entire five lifetimes with Steve. Like he’s about to sweep Steve off his feet, chuck him over the side of their mattress, give him hickeys until he’s a mottled lovesick mess, and then get down on one knee and surrender his heart to Steve’s hands. Like he’s gonna propose something wonderful like marriage. And, maybe, Steve lets himself believe something crazy like that.

“Remember when I told you that I consider marriage as a possibility?” Eddie asks abruptly.

And, goddamnit, if Eddie does something crazy and stupid like propose right now, Steve may just throw up out of excitement. How embarrassing, he thinks. And he chuckles despite that.

“I do,” he finds himself whispering. “What does this—“

“And I considered it with you. And I held you close and you cried against my lips and we made love like we were the only people in the universe? Remember all the times that you’d lay on top of me out of contentment? All the times I’d hold you close to my chest? All the times you kissed over my heart, like it was the only thing keeping us tethered to the moment?”

Nervously, Steve laughs. “Yes, Eddie. Yes, I remember all that. What is your point with—“

“Fucking margarita nights. You’re a sweet drunk, d’you know that? Like almost unbearably sweet.” Eddie scoots his chair around the table. Setting it next to Steve, on his left. And his hands come into Steve’s field of view. Gathering Steve’s palms in his, squeezing and caressing the skin. “All the times in which we thought that this apartment was all that we had.” He shakes his head, smirking, snickering like this intense reaction he’s having is something funny to Steve.

Fact of the matter, Steve is scared shitless right now. What if this is his way of breaking up, he can’t help himself from wondering. Cruel. He swallows against the lump in his throat. Words escaping him.

“I want to marry you so bad,” Eddie swears. “Wanna do the whole ceremony. And the paper signing. And the honeymoon, but in some little cabin on a mountain. Where we load the fireplace with wood and we huddle in for warmth and we sip at rich cups of Uncle Wayne’s hot chocolate. And then, in a few years time, when we’ve financially recovered from the wedding, we’ll buy a house.

“We’ll buy a house and paint it yellow,” he promises. Steve begins to cry, something silent, but can’t pinch his nose to stop himself. “It’ll be yellow because that’s your favorite color. With white shutters. And a big backyard for a dog or two. Wrap around porch so that we can sit and watch the sunrises and sunsets.” He takes a deep breath that sounds a little nasally. “I’ll make you breakfast every morning,” he continues, “serve you a fresh bowl of strawberries, ones that you grow under the big front window of our house. I’ll kiss you all over the face, like I do now, and you’ll grumble that it’s too early and then you’ll smell the bacon and you’ll give me your stupid sleepy smile that makes my heart do funny little flips and you’ll kiss me on the mouth and it’ll be disgusting because you haven’t brushed your teeth.

“And I’ll be a very happy man.” Eddie’s breath trembles in his chest. He swallows hard. Steve wonders if he can hear his own shaky breath. Or if he’s too involved in whatever this is. “I’ll be so happy,” he whispers, “And I’ll find myself thinking, how did I ever get so lucky? But it isn’t luck. And it isn’t fate. It was trauma that forced us together and I’ll laugh about it. But then I’ll sigh because who the fuck cares how we started all of this?

“You’ll be a funky middle school English teacher. With your nicely done hair and a sweater vest and some khakis. I’ll be a musician, hopefully. But, every day you’ll have a small lunch; an orange that I made you peel but I removed the pulp from, a tuna salad sandwich because you’re my fish loving dork, and a bottle of water. I’ll leave you a note everyday telling you how proud I am because I’ve never stopped being proud of you.

“I’m proud of you, Steve, d’you know that? So much.” He laughs wetly. His eyes staring down at their interlocked hands. “All this to say that I’m proud of you. That I’m happy. We’ve got a future, sweetheart. And I want to be your husband. Will you—“ He swallows once more, thick and heavy and almost painful looking. Can love hurt when it’s this sweet?

Eddie finally looks up. His eyes glistening and his cheeks wet and his skin tinted pink. His eyelashes stuck together. Nose dripping only slightly. He’s a messy crier, but Steve doesn’t fare any better. “Will you marry me, Steve? Stay by my side and we’ll accomplish our dreams together?” His voice is soft. Enamored.

Unbelievable, Steve swallows back. Because how did he get somebody like Eddie in his life? How did he manage to find love and have it promised back at him?

“Yes, Eddie,” he gasps out. “God, holy shit.” He drops his hands from Eddie’s hold, instead wrapping them around his torso. Muffled into Eddie’s shoulder, “All this just because I’m finally figuring my shit out? God.”

Eddie cackles, burying his own face in Steve’s hair. They sway a little. “I just—“ Eddie begins whispering. “I don’t know. I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while. Every time seemed right, but this one? Baby, this one was perfect.”

Steve sighs into the embrace. Content to not say anything else. Except, “I’m proud of you, too, honey. I love you so much and I’m so proud of you.”

“I love you too, love bug. God, Steve, I love you, too.”

For the first time since 1983, Steve allows himself to truly settle in for a future. A future, he knows, he’ll be especially proud of.

💕—————💕 Fun fact, I accidentally deleted this whole ficlet when I was copying and pasting. Hit the spacebar and watched it disappear in front of my eyes. But I figured out how to get it back, not before almost throwing up on myself out of anger. Love y'all <3

[marlynnofmany]

Squishy Cybernetics

“Hello!” I said. “Where would you like this?” I waved an arm at the large pallet of boxes, bags, and miscellaneous other packaging. It was on one of our biggest hoversleds, and accompanied by some of the biggest crewmates.

The Waterwill at the loading gate burbled thoughtfully, sounding like a water jug given sentience. She extended what passed for an arm of her own and pointed indoors. “You’d better bring it all the way in. Over here.” She glided inward, moving in that mysterious way I’d never figured out. Someone shaped like a column of jello had no business scooting forward that quickly, no matter how much their lower end rippled against the floor.

But I didn’t have time for galaxy-gazing; I had to help steer the hoversled. Regulations said we needed someone on all four sides for a load this big, just in case of antigrav mishaps. Didn’t want it slamming into something breakable at this client’s facility — or slamming into anything at all, really, but this place was some sort of high-tech manufacturing plant, and I didn’t want to think about what kind of damage a crash could do.

No mishaps today, though. The Frillian twins paced along on either side, all muscles and tight clothes (they’d left the flowy silks behind today; a solid choice). I couldn’t see Zhee in the back, but I heard the quiet click of his bug feet. My own feet were silent in proper Earth shoes as I tugged the steering handle and followed the Waterwill.

I thought we’d just take the thing to the far side of the big loading dock, unload it in an out-of-the-way spot to be unpacked later. But the Waterwill kept going. We passed hovercars and wheeled carts, storage cabinets and bins, along with a baffling arrangement of pipes along one wall. Windows showed glimpses of the busy manufacturing facility. I had no idea what they were making. Maybe I’d get a better look on the way back out.

Oh hey, a human, I thought in surprise as I passed a bigger window. With a Strongarm on his back? What in the world are they making together? I was already moving past, and could only speculate about intricate manufacturing projects that needed hands and tentacles at the same time.

I was still wondering why the Strongarm hadn’t just pulled up a chair next to the human when the Waterwill signalled me to stop. “Stopping,” I announced for Zhee’s benefit. We all came to a halt, and nobody crashed into anything. Hallelujah.

“Here, please,” the Waterwill said. She stretched her arm out into a long tendril to pick up a scrap of something blue that had fallen on the floor, and pointed at an empty space near several foam-topped tables. “I’m needed out front. Heeme, can you oversee?”

“Sure thing,” said a voice from nowhere, then a Strongarm climbed out from under one of the tables. “Found the last of the broken bits, by the way.” Two of his tentacles were curled around pieces of the same blue stuff the Waterwill had picked up. The blue stood out against the dark red of his skin, but not as much as the four mismatched tentacles on other side did. They were a transparent blue-green much like the Waterwill’s own tendrils. I tried not to stare, and failed.

“Thank you,” the Waterwill said. “I’ll be back in a bit.” She set her broken piece of whatever on the nearest table, then scooted through a door that was apparently soundproofed, because a cacophony of whirs and whooshes filled the air until it closed.

“Right,” I said. “Over here, then.” I steered the hoversled into position, then we all worked together to guide the detachable gravity platform onto the ground. That part always made me nervous, since it looked like the giant pallet that could crush me was floating through the air with just a touch of technological magic to make it go. I understand other models of industrial-sized hoversleds have more mechanical-looking gravity platforms, or regular forklift arms. Ours was the glowy magic kind, and it deposited the giant stack of objects with all the precision of the best fairytale enchantment.

“Perfect,” said the Strongarm. “We’ll unpack it from here. Thanks.”

“Our pleasure,” I said.

Zhee, finally able to see over the hoversled, got a good look at who I was talking to. “Oh, I’m sure you’re fast at unpacking,” he said, pointing with his pincher arm. “Does that model form into blades?”

“Sure does!” the Strongarm said, holding up a see-through tentacle that instantly flattened into a shape like a steak knife. “Good for packaging, stubborn latches, and all manner of other things.”

“And stabbing!” Blop put in, to be immediately shushed by his sister.

“No stabbing on the job,” she told him.

The Strongarm laughed. “Yeah, just respectable tool use. They don’t give these out to anyone who’s going to do violence with them.”

I asked, “Is that Waterwill tech? I haven’t seen one before.”

“Yup.” He turned the knife back into a tentacle, then into a variety of other shapes. “One of the perks of working here, for sure. They’re cagey about sharing tech. This is the best prosthesis I’ve ever encountered.”

I thought of the hard metal-and-plastic replacement limbs that were standard on Earth. They would be wildly out of place on this guy’s squishy octopus body. And no amount of interchangeable attachments would be able to beat this kind of easy shapeshifting. I said, “That looks really useful.”

“It is!”

The loud door opened to admit a wall of sound, along with the human-and-Strongarm pair. Which I realized with a start was actually just a human wearing more transparent tentacles on his back.

“Here’s the new set,” he said to the Strongarm, placing a clear box on the table that was full of a stack of more flat blue things. They appeared to be cut into very specific shapes. I might have been curious about what they were for if not for the much more interesting thing to be curious about.

“Hello,” I said. “Does everyone who works here get extra limbs?”

The tan human grinned. “If they want ‘em! And they pass the screening, of course. But you’ve got to leave them here each day if they’re the bonus kind, as opposed to replacements.”

The Strongarm wiggled his tentacles in a taunting manner. “I can open packages and slice food so easily at home.”

The human made a face and wiggled the tentacles on his back. “Yeah yeah, we’re all jealous. Someday I’ll convince the bosses that there’s an actual market for these, and I’ll be the first in line to buy my own.”

“They think there isn’t?” I asked in shock. “Those look so useful! I can’t list the number of times I’ve wished for more hands. Using teeth and feet only goes so far.”

Zhee made a disparaging hiss. “You have that many fingers, and still want more? Greedy.”

“I’m just saying that re-weaving a cargo net would go much faster if I could hold all of the fibers at once,” I told him, then turned to the Frillians. “Back me up. Two arms just isn’t enough sometimes, right?”

Blip and Blop looked at each other and shrugged. “I guess?” Blip said. “But that’s just when it’s time to get another person to help.”

Zhee clicked a pincher. “Exactly so. Or approach the problem differently.”

The human told me, “I’ve had this conversation more than once. Apparently not all species grow up imagining what it’s like to have bird wings or monkey tails or whatnot.”

“Surely other people want to fly,” I said. The expressions around me were dishearteningly blank. “Surely!”

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” the human said. “See why I couldn’t convince the bosses?”

“But even on a practicality standpoint!” I exclaimed. “They have you using them here; why wouldn’t they think you’d want to use them at home?”

He shrugged, moving the tentacles in a graceful wave as he did. “Alien brains. I’ve given up trying to fully understand.”

The Strongarm spoke up. “If there are actually a large number of humans who would buy these, then it couldn’t hurt to put together a request from outside sources. The bosses don’t listen to random employees who are probably biased, but they might take an interest in actual buyers.”

I shook my head slowly. “Our courier ship isn’t going to be that kind of buyer, especially not at the scale they’d probably need.”

“What about big human ships?” Blip asked. “We could suggest it to the next one we meet.”

“Or human colonies,” Blop said. “Or large groups at space stations.”

Zhee said, “I heard Captain Sunlight talking about a delivery to Basal Station soon. There are plenty of humans there. You could suggest it to them, if you think this is really that widespread an interest.”

“It couldn’t hurt,” I said, thinking. There was indeed a significant human population on that space station, which might even include the crew I’d met from the droid jousting ship Hold My Beer. They were definitely the type to appreciate some extra arms. Both for working on finicky electronics and general slapfight shenanigans.

“Here, we should have something with the contact information,” said the Strongarm. “Jon, is there a notepad over there?”

“Yeah, got it.” The human leaned over a table and used his tentacles to lift a stack of books so he could pull out the small notepad at the bottom. That may have been showing off. “Here you go!” He handed it to me with his regular hand.

“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll see if I can find the right ears to whisper into.”

“Best of luck!” he said. “My partner has asked me no less than half a dozen times if I could sneak my set home to play around with, but I’m not gonna risk the job.”

I laughed, hoping I wasn’t blushing. “Oh man, I wasn’t even going to mention the bedroom applications.”

Of course Zhee had to ask, tilting his head with faceted eyes shining. “The what?”

“Remember how most humans find tentacles a little creepy?” I asked him, pocketing the notepad.

“I recall. It makes this insistence all the stranger.”

“Well, some humans aren’t creeped out at all. Kind of the opposite. They like them a lot. In a, uh, private fashion.”

Jon the human spelled it out for him. “Mating rituals.”

Zhee’s antennae did a complicated dance, then settled in something that looked like disgust. “I was about to ask why, but I’ve decided I don’t want to know.”

“Yeah, best not to,” I agreed. “Anyway! Very useful extra arms. Good for a wide variety of activities. Other humans will likely be interested.”

“Very likely,” Jon agreed.

I activated the hovercart with a nod, and we said our goodbyes. The employees wished me luck. They returned to work while we headed back toward our ship.

Zhee grumbled disparaging things about my species the whole way, but that was nothing new.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

PS: the story with the good ship Hold My Beer is here, if you're wondering about that. It's fun.

[lowkeyrobin]

hiya :D could you maybe make a MCYT + Cellbit preference list with a SO who like to make jewlery like bracelets and stuff? specifically like knadi bracelts and such. like making bracelets with the streamer's name on it or like things that match their brand/theme!!

oooo yeah sure!!! ; also I'm a kandi kid (kinda I can only rlly do singles... embarassing) but I know what I'm talking about for once lmaooo ; thanks for requesting, hope u enjoy!

MCYT ; kandi kid

includes ; tommyinnit, ranboo, badlinu, maxggs, quackity & cellbit

warnings ; language

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

absolutely adores everything you make for him

there's one with "tommyinnit" and two red and white smiley faces on the side, white beads on the left of his name and red on the right, and another smiley face in the back where you tied it off

there's another that's just 1-1 red and white with a little customized bead on it (a plain letter that he drew a red star on both sides)

and there's like circular rubbery beads that are red and white tie dye

he wears them literally everyday and always brags about you when someone points them out / asks him about them

"oh yeah, my partner made them for me 😊"

he lovesss watching you make like anything other than singles cause he has no idea how you do it

he's got a whole collection of lizards you made for him atp

RANBOO

cherishes everything you make them

there's one that's half blue half purple, separated by a yellow star on both sides where the colors seperate

there's a similar one that just says "ranboo" with some fun star beads and stuff

helps you make cuffs / watches you show them but is still struggling a bit on learning how to do the pattern n stuff

"can you make me this?" and it's a bunch of 3d stars that would take maybe 7 mins to make like yeah ofc bro

he's got so many singles from you that he rotates them around and matches them with his outfits

you made him some little rotating ones too

THEYRE OBSESSED.

FREDDIE BADLINU

mostly only wears 3 on each at most

there's one that's orange, red, purple and pink in a pattern (to match the colors he's dyed his hair)

there's another that says "internet superstar badlinu" on 3 layers, the main is plain black with some decorative beads n stuff

there's also a bi flag one

and some miscellaneous 2d keychains and a couple little 3d desk decorations

he loves showing off the stuff you make when it's just randomly left nearby or you give it to him or whatever

you've given him a lot of singles over time so some get worn more than others, you don't really care

everytime there's a new one he'll be fixated on it for like a week and not wanna take it off

ALEX QUACKITY

you'll walk in when he's doing shit w a handful of bracelets

"omg thank you!!!"

he puts them all on, arms covered in plastic

there's some music themed ones, others matching his brand, others being just color schemes that would match outfits

he actually adores everything you make for him, even the funny ones

"omg this one is weed!!" he shows off a green one w "leaf" beads on it

he wears them outside too, like his wrists are pale glowing white while the rest of him tans 😭

you made him a rotating cuff of a duck in water and he's so obsessed with it but scared to wear it cause he's worried he'd break it

there's also one that says "ur gay" and it's obnoxiously rainbow lol

it's on his key lanyard trust

CELLBIT

literally so grateful and thankful for everything you make for him

and so fascinated cause you make everything look so cool

from singles to 3d pieces, he's literally just 🤩🤩🤩 lol

always showing off the new stuff you'd made him online

always asking "can you make me this?" and sending you pinterest and tiktok inspo

there's a single that says "cellbit" in block letters and its a grey-green color, the beads are both barrels and some square ones you found cause... cellbit? pixels? no? anyone?

also likes helping you organize the beads and set them into small bowls while you work

it's like your bonding time lol

[writingonleaves]

were you sent by someone who wanted me dead? (did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed?) - jeremy swayman

pairing: jeremy swayman x original female character

warnings: swearing, pretty angsty. hopeful ish ending because i can't do sad endings, very personal but i think many can relate in their own way, cliche ish, barely proofread

inspired by + title: "the smallest man who ever lived" by taylor swift

word count: 5.6k

author's note: i'd argue almost every piece any author writes is personal, because it has their life interspersed through the words. but this one really is, because a majority of this is the exact same words i wrote years ago after a break-up. heard the bridge to this song and immediately knew i had to write something inspired by it. also trying a new format of sorts (maybe a bit meta??), so i hope you enjoy and lmk what you think!!

~*~*~

When Noelle Betsko walked away from Jeremy Swayman, holding back tears until the call dropped, she knew it was going to be a tough time for the foreseeable future. 

It didn’t matter that the pandemic had forced them apart. She knew she would still feel him for months to come.

She did the only thing she knows how to do when trying to deal with things. The one thing she always resorts to as an aspiring novelist. Sometimes on her laptop when the words were spilling out too quickly for her brain to catch up, tears littering the keyboard. Usually in her old beat-up journal, scribbling in the cursive that Jeremy claimed he always loved (“It makes your handwriting unique”) with the pens he had gifted her just a few months prior. 

At the age of 21, Noelle got her heart broken for the first time. At the age of 26, she’s about to publish her first poetry collection of sorts, all of the poems modeled after journal entries written throughout her life. So not really poetry, though her mother would say otherwise. 

She swallows as she thumbs through the middle part of the first known and binded copy of “miscellaneous.” There are only eight entries in the whole collection that are taken verbatim from her past writing. These are the eight.

May 13, 2020 (three days post-breakup, crying in my childhood bedroom)

I don’t even recognize who I was and who you were in those writings before these pages filled with love and hope and happiness. I can’t even summon up those feelings anymore that I knew existed at one point. Those feelings of complete bliss and love for someone so deep you can’t explain it. 

I’m mad at myself for not being able to conjure those feelings, because at one point, I did love you. How could something that was part of my daily life for over two years just disappear so quickly? 

But now, I’m not mad at myself. I’m mad, but I don’t know where to direct that anger to. I feel a bit empty sometimes, but then frustrated the next. Sometimes I get sad, but not so much compared to the other feelings. I spent enough time being sad during our relationship.

When we broke up, on an annoyingly beautiful Tuesday in May — over the damn phone, mind you, which whatever, it’s COVID. Fine — You told me you felt like you had been putting more effort into us. 

At the time, I didn’t react, but I’ve been thinking about how angry that statement made me. Makes me, actually. I was always very open with how much I gave to that relationship. How much it meant to me. How much it affected me. But I understand that with some people, sharing everything too much equates to things not meaning anything anymore. But you out of all people should’ve known that I mean everything I say.

I felt like I gave so much. I know I gave so much. When I told you I loved you, I always meant it. Every single time. When I told you I missed you, I always meant it. I wished you were right next to me at that moment. I mentally gave so much, because to me, I wanted to. You were always on my mind, always high up on my list of priorities. I never took us for granted.

I’ve been questioning if that was the same for you. Did you start becoming complacent?

The second thing you said that day that hasn’t left my head is that you knew me pretty well. And initially, I remember not thinking much of it. So I don’t doubt that; you always knew right when I was about to cry, even over the phone. You often knew when I was mad or upset, but when I look back now, you never pushed. Which is a good thing, to an extent. But it was a bad thing sometimes too. I knew you often wanted to give me space, but sometimes I didn’t want space. I wanted you to push. To try to understand. Maybe that’s unfair of me; it probably is. I should just say I want to talk about it more, right? 

But if you genuinely knew me, you would’ve known.

After two years, seven months and 12 days,  I still feel like I didn’t know you. Did I ever know you at all?

When people talked shit about you, I always defended you. And I still would defend you now. But lately, I've questioned what I’m even defending. All those good qualities that I thought you had, were they even real? Of course, I know some of them were, to a certain extent. But as I look back on us, there’s a lot of doubt about whether I even knew the person I called my boyfriend for so long. I know there was a point where you cared about me, but I can’t remember when. 

I often felt like I was letting you know so much about my life, but you didn’t do the same. I get that sometimes a person just wants to forget about the bad and focus on the good with a person you like for awhile. I get that. But once that was happening every damn time? That should’ve been a red flag. 

June 7, 2020 (twenty eight days post break-up, outside my childhood room on the deck) 

I don’t understand how you can give so much to something or someone and have it not be recognized or appreciated or enough. If I wasn’t enough for you, how will I be enough for anyone?

I hope one day you’ll truly understand how much this hurt. Not just the breakup, but feeling like I was always being pulled in a direction I didn’t always want to be pulled in. Feeling I was stuck between a rock and a hard place and never ever being able to win. I hate that I settled so much in the last year. Because I should’ve demanded more, even though deep down I knew you were never going to be able to give it to me.

I think back to our past daily texts, and I just don’t get it. At one point, we both meant the things we said to each other. 

Yet we still hurt each other. 

This fucking hurts.

You’ve hurt me so much, but most of it wasn’t intentional, which I think is somewhat even worse. Because I’m not totally mad at you for causing the pain. You never did anything outright to cause me pain, but I still feel like you did. 

Unintentional pain almost stings more than intentional. 

When I asked you out that night after we were both on an emotional high, I took a chance. For once in my life, I took the leap, knowing that I could get humiliated or hurt or just straight up shot down. 

Where did it all go wrong? Or, more realistically, how did we think that we could go through the wrong when it was there at the start?

I’m trying not to blame myself too much. Trying not to tell myself that I should’ve known better. 

All those times, especially at the start, when I would ask you if you genuinely liked me, you always thought I was just trying to be annoying. But you never understood that I genuinely thought that way. My self confidence from the start was lacking, and you didn’t try to understand that, because I come across to everyone as confident and self-assured. 

It hurt, when you would brush things off like that. I felt like you didn’t care.

And then, it got to the point where I stopped asking that question. Part of that is because I did become more confident and you did show that you cared, and part of that was because I knew it would piss you off.

The amount of things I was scared to talk about with you because I knew it would piss you off? I don’t wish that feeling on anybody.

I shouldn’t have been scared. I shouldn’t have been uncomfortable. But I was. And if you did notice like sometimes you claimed to, why didn’t you make it more comfortable for me? Was that too much to ask for? 

So larger than life that at the end, you faded into just the smallest man who ever lived. Fuck you.

Was it too much to ask for when I just wanted to know why you were upset? You didn’t have to ever tell me the full story (lord knows there were times I didn’t), but was it too much to ask for something? You told me once that I’m the person you’ve told the most to. How? You barely told me anything. And when I wanted to talk to you, whether it was about growing up in Alaska or why you were in a bad mood last night, you always brushed it off. Always. 

So I don’t feel so bad about feeling like I gave more effort. I gave so much of myself to you. If you really cared about me like you claimed you did, why couldn’t you show even just 1% of that care back? Or just meet me in the middle?

I could’ve tried harder to meet you in the middle, I’ll admit that. But you didn’t even give me a map or a clue how to. 

I felt so fucking left in the dark. I felt left in the dark about my own fucking relationship, something that I should be completely sure about. If you really love someone and care about them, how can you leave them in the dark? How could you not even see that I was struggling to find a flashlight?

You did care about me. I know that. To some extent and at some point in time, you did care about me. But caring about someone and their well-being isn’t always enough.

Why couldn’t you have worked with me? When I was extending my hand out, why didn’t you reach for it? How can someone just be so blind? I mean, I’m practically always spelling it out for you. 

Maybe I am being selfish. But fuck, I just wanted to be happy. At some point, you made me happy. When did I start making you feel like I wasn’t enough? Why wasn’t I enough for you?

It’s useless, in a way, to keep going about this. Because I know I deserve better. And we’ll both find people who are better for us. We just couldn’t be that person to each other.

I fucking loved you.

I wish it ended differently.

July 8, 2020 (fifty nine days post-breakup, in front of the lake)

I really really fucking miss you. 

I do. 

I miss being able to text you that i love you and not necessarily expecting a response until the next morning. I miss knowing that as soon as you wake up, you’ll text me back and assure me that yeah, you love me too. 

I’m left feeling bittersweet as I look back on memories that are just splashes and not definite strokes on the canvas that used to be us.

I miss having you as a friend. 

I’ve been having more urges lately to want to text you. And it isn’t even anything important. Just moments I experience throughout the day.

Do you get the urge to do the same?

July 19, 2020 (seventy days post-breakup, still in the same damn house)

It’s hard. It really is. And it kinda just hits you at random parts of the day. Sometimes I wake up from a dream that you were in and have to remind myself that it didn’t happen. 

Sometimes it physically aches when I realize that you won’t ever help me put on my jacket again, or complain that my hair is in your face when we’re lying on the couch watching Brooklyn Nine Nine, or groan when I drag you up to dance with me (which you never improved on, no matter how many times I tried to teach you basic rhythm). I can’t view our song the same way anymore, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to. 

The other day, I read some simple thing on Twitter. I don’t even remember what it was, but I do remember that for a split second, I could see your smile in my mind. But it wasn’t just any smile. It was the smile you gave me when you took me ice skating that first time. I remember asking you what you were smiling at, and you said that you just were taking in this moment. I don’t know if you took a mental picture that day, but I know I did. That day seems so long ago now. 

In almost anything I do, you somehow pop into my mind or into the conversation. And it’s not even in a harmful way either. It’s because you were part of my life for so long. I see a dog on the street, and it reminds me of how you always stopped to pet every single one we’s see I write something in my messy handwriting, and I remember how you always used to complain that you couldn’t read the notes I’d occasionally leave around your place when you went away. I went to the doctor’s the other day, and they said I was 5 feet and 3 inches, which is just definitely not true, and I almost reached for my phone to text you, because you would’ve cackled and insisted that no, I’m 5 feet 2 inches and it wouldn’t even matter because I’ll always be shorter than you. It’s simple and minute things that make me miss you that much more.

I still can’t listen to some songs the same way anymore, but I can at least listen to them now, which is a feat in itself. I was unpacking from college and found the teddy bear you sent me the first extended time we had to be apart and had to immediately put that out of my sight. From those boxes also came photos that I had decorated my dorm room with, and to be honest, I’m glad now that I let you keep our best one. I deal with all my emotions, besides writing, by making Spotify playlists, and I made a new one earlier this week. I think it’s helping. It’s a slow process, this whole moving on thing, but it’s one that I’m trying to be grateful for, because like most things in life, you just don’t truly know until you go through it.

Sometimes, I find myself wondering how you are and how you’re healing. But, even though we’ve both changed since the day we met, if there’s one thing I know, it’s that you’re incredibly strong and stubborn. I hope that you’re finding some growth in this process too. 

October 17, 2020 (one hundred fifty seven days post-break up, apartment in orono)

It’s been almost 5 months, and you still cross my mind everyday. 

Why wasn’t I enough for you? Why didn’t you fucking tell me what you were thinking? Why was I the one who had to approach you just because I was just so done with the silent treatment?

But I’m not mad at you. Not anymore. The mad phase passed ages ago. 

Closure is a fake word. Even a breakup as mutual and smooth as ours was still left me with so many questions that will probably never be answered. 

Any breakup fucks you up to some extent. I knew it was going to mess me up even back when we were together. But not like this. Never like this. 

But like anything in life, I guess you can never really prepare for what you think you might feel, because most of the time, you discover a whole new side of you that you never thought existed. 

I don’t miss you. I don’t. I don’t feel that love in any way anymore. 

But I did once.

You did too, right?

November 15, 2020 (one hundred eighty six days post break-up, fogler library)

I hate Halloween. 

Though, it did bring me to you three years ago. I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you right then and there. 

Three years later, you texted me on Halloween, five months after our breakup. The universe really, really wanted to fuck with me. 

It was a tough night for you. I knew that. Because I know how you are after losing a game you should’ve won. But that didn’t mean that I owed you anything and had to respond. 

We agreed on no contact if we ever wanted to stay friends. Clearly, friends is out of the picture now, but come on. A vulnerable text after a bad night because you know I would feel bad for you?

Fuck, you know how much I would hate that. You had to have known. 

Just because we’re not dating anymore doesn’t mean that everything about you just disappears. I still know your tendencies. I still know exactly how my head burrows into your chest during a hug. I still know the actions I used to do that would be followed by you attacking me with a hug. I still could point you out in a crowd. 

I looked for you in every crowd for years. 

That stuff doesn’t just go away, no matter how much I want it to. But fuck. Fuck. Why did you text me? 

I don’t regret how I handled it. I probably would’ve responded months ago. But just like you, I’ve grown these last couple of months. 

It was comforting, for a split second, to know that maybe, just maybe, these past couple of months have been hard for you too. It makes me feel human. It makes me feel like I’m not crazy.

I’m glad you texted me. You gave me another level of closure I hadn’t known that I needed until then. 

But fuck, dude. You know me better than that. You should know me better than that. 

I hate Halloween.

November 26, 2020 (one hundred ninety seven days, at the coffee shop i brought you to when you came home with me two years ago)

I don’t regret loving you, but I hate you for what you did to me. 

Or maybe not. 

I hate knowing that even though we haven’t been in a relationship in a bit, it feels like sometimes, you’re on my mind the exact same amount when we were dating. I hate knowing that I gave so much of myself and my love to you, and it always felt unrecognized. 

Fuck, will it ever stop hurting? Will I ever be able to have to stop myself from thinking about you? Will it ever stop?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

Happy birthday. I hope you enjoy it.

June 12, 2021 (three hundred ninety five days post-break up, in boston, visiting a friend)

Tonight, when a friend asked me about you and how I felt about how we ended, I was able to articulate my thoughts clearly. I’m really proud of myself for getting to a point where I can take the lessons I learned the few months after we broke up and acknowledge them in a succinct way without breaking down into tears. Just watery eyes and the occasional voice crack 

I’m also proud that I can say that when we were dating, I lost a bit of myself. For months, it was really hard to admit out loud.

I’m proud of how far I’ve come. Sometimes, I wish I could call or text you about it, because I think you’d be proud too. And I know I’d be proud of you. I am, to be honest. I do break resolve once in awhile and check on you through various avenues.

I still haven’t seen you in person since the last time COVID made us say goodbye. Maybe I never will again. But day by day, I’m starting to accept that and be okay with it. I’m accepting that memories that used to be so painted in my mind are blurry or almost completely erased now. But that’s okay. Honestly, it’s probably for the best. 

I wonder, when you think about it, if you think about different moments that I do. That’s the thing when something ends. You have to be okay with letting go of those moments and realizing that just because you forget them, doesn’t mean they weren’t important. 

I don’t think I miss you. I hesitate in saying that. Because I’ve moved on and handled the aftermath of it better than I think both of us ever thought I could. When you hung up the phone for the last time, I proved to myself again that I’m stronger than I give myself credit for. I think we all are. But we don’t realize it until we’re thrown into a situation that we think we’ll never be able to overcome. 

But we do. Whether it’s because we’re forced to because there’s no other option, it doesn’t matter. Because we get through. We move on. 

I hope you're moving on. 

And then it goes into other topics, graduating during a pandemic specifically and losing what’s supposed to be your last year of no responsibilities before adulthood. There are other poems in here that reference a past relationship, but not as much as these eight. 

If there’s one thing that Noelle did change, it was taking out the details. Jeremy may have hurt her, but he doesn’t deserve someone possibly making a connection between these poems and their shared background. She’s not a famous author by any means, but she wanted to be careful.

Not that she makes that part of her life publicly known. People don’t need to know that her brother was Jeremy’s captain for two years at Maine and that’s how they met. 

Noelle grew up going to rinks. She hasn’t gone to one since they broke up. 

But also, what the fuck? It’s been five years since she’s dated the guy. She really is over it by now, even if his rise to stardom in the Bruins flittering on her social media feeds still sometimes has her swallowing a bit before she can continue with her day. 

Brooklyn is far enough from Boston. But sometimes it feels like it’s right outside her door. 

She’s proud of her first published work. She really is. People believed in her and after numerous notes swapped back and forth with her editor, she did it. She always knew she wanted to work in publishing. She never knew she herself would publish anything.

And here she is now, two weeks after the book release, in Boston, about to do a q&a and a signing. Apparently, “miscellaneous” has been on top of numerous lists and it’s flying off the shelves. Noelle can’t really believe it and tries not to think about it too much, trusting her agent with all of that. 

She’s happy to talk about her work and process though. That she can handle. And she’s grateful for all the love.

After a signing at a local bookstore, she decides to walk the 20 minutes home in the Boston fall. It’s a bit brisk, but she doesn’t mind and she just wanders, belly filled with delicious sushi she inhaled for dinner with an old friend.

Of course it happens the one time during her walk when she doesn’t avoid eye contact with someone. The song playing in her earbuds fade out of her focus and she almost stumbles. 

Jeremy’s eyes were always Noelle’s favorite thing about him. She thought she would’ve forgotten what they looked like by now. But clearly she hasn’t. 

Her eyes quickly cast to the person next to him. It’s definitely a girl. They’re a bit too far away for Noelle to pick out details. But it’s enough. He’s walking on the side closest to the street. It’s a Friday Night in a bustling part of the city. 

It hurts. She wishes it didn’t.

Even from far away, she sees his eyes blink in recognition. Noelle puts her head back down and walks faster. 

(She cries in the shower when she gets back to the hotel. She had debated feeling super sorry for herself and going to the hotel bar but refrained)

She has a few free days in Boston before flying back to New York. When she wakes up the next morning, she debates on going home early. But no, she won’t let a three second glance at someone ruin her time here. She used to occasionally come here during her college days. She loves this city. 

The city may be Jeremy’s, but she can make space for herself here too. 

She takes her time at a cafe, people watching and eating some breakfast. As she takes her coffee to-go, she looks out the window at the bookstore she was in the night before for the signing. She almost drops her coffee. 

Jeremy walks into the book store. 

Now, Noelle is debating her options. What she should do is continue with her day and walk in the opposite direction. But she’s always been too nosy for her own good. And maybe a bit self destructive. She decides to leave the cafe and cross the street immediately, so impatient to where she’s almost tapping her foot as the pedestrian signal stays red. 

As a writer, she’s no stranger to movie moments. The scenes written in books or movies where the timing is too accurate to be real. The situation too good to be true. But after a car speeds through an orange and she can finally walk, she stops in her tracks instead, feet glued down to the sidewalk.

Because Jeremy is right in front of her on the other side of the street. Her book in his hand. And he’s looking right at her. 

The first feeling she can recognize in herself is anger. Anger at the way their relationship panned out. Anger at the way they ended. Anger at the radio silence the years following. Anger at him for everything. Angry at herself for everything. 

The second feeling is, weirdly, shame, which she’s embarrassed by. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. But she feels it anyways. 

The third, and perhaps the most prominent, is emptiness. Five fucking years later, and she’s brought back to the emptiness she felt immediately after they broke up. The emptiness that the person you loved isn’t yours anymore — who maybe wasn’t ever yours to begin with. 

Before she can run, he’s already crossed the street to her. He looks naturally different as someone who you haven’t seen in five years would. But he also heartbreakingly looks the same. 

“We should get out of people’s way,” Noelle manages to chokes out. 

Jeremy laughs a bit. Her heart lurches. “Yeah.” He starts walking and she follows him wordlessly. This is his city after all. 

He leads them to a bench under a tree with beautiful fall foliage. She puts at least a foot between them as they both sit down, staring out at the people passing. She can’t take the silence. 

“I see you bought my book.”

“I did,” he replies evenly. “Congratulations. I always knew you would do it.”

She squeezes her eyes shut. Maybe if she squeezes hard enough she’ll forget when she originally pitched Jeremy the bare bones idea of the exact same book that’s currently in his hand. “Thank you. Congratulations to you too. On everything.”

“You’ve been watching?”

She shakes her head. “No. But, you know Seth and…yeah. It comes up during family calls sometimes.”

“Why didn’t you say hi last night?”

She looks pointedly at a couple walking their dog. “You seemed busy.”

“She wasn’t-that-it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Oh. Because that makes me feel so much better,” she spits out, before taking a deep breath. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. We broke up ages ago.”

“I’m sorry,” she gives him a look and is slightly proud of how he seems to shrink into himself a bit. “I-I know it’s five years too late. I know I didn’t handle it as well as I should’ve. But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

The thing is, Noelle always thought that maybe hearing an apology someday would make her feel better. But now that’s heard it, she’s not sure she does. 

She swallows. “I appreciate that.”

“I’ve already read it, you know.”

“Read what?”

Jeremy runs a hand through his hair. “Your book. One of my teammate’s girlfriend recommended it and I asked to borrow it. It’s fantastic,” He looks down at the book in his hand. It’s like the cover is taunting her. “I wanted my own copy.”

“Oh.” 

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me off the hook with the poems I know were about me,” he scoffs, shaking his head at himself. “You could’ve written way worse.”

She can’t help but let out a chuckle. “I thought I was pretty mean.”

“Your definition of ‘pretty mean’ is tame compared to a lot of people,” he says, mindlessly flipping through the pages of the book. “You were always the kindest person, even when you shouldn’t have been..” 

He puts his hand out in her direction, the hand with the book in it. She furrows her eyebrows. “What-”

“Could I get a signed copy?”

“Jeremy. What do you want from me?”

He sighs, taking his hand back. “A chance to apologize?”

“You’ve already done that.”

“Not in the way I want to and what you deserve.”

She lets out a sigh, turning to face him fully. “I don’t know if that would be worth my time or yours. I know the book just came out, but that was five years ago. I’m over it. Forgive and forget, right?”

“But do you?” Jeremy counters back. “Clearly, you don’t forget, which I deserve. But forgive?” 

“We’re just going in circles now.”

“No we’re not,” he says firmly. “You’re just shutting me down because you don’t want to talk about it. I’ve had five years to prepare what I would say to you if I saw you again. You’re telling me you haven’t?”

“Of course I have,” Noelle tips her head back. “But also, what’s the point?”

“The point, is that I still love you.”

“Fuck you,” she says in a strained voice. “You can’t just-you can’t just throw that shit out there. Fuck you.”

He bites his lip, and to her annoyance, he laughs. But she listens more carefully, and it sounds very self deprecating. “I deserved that.”

“Yeah,” Noelle looks down at her feet. “So…what? You still love me?”

“I do.”

“And what are you going to do about that?”

“What are you going to let me do?”

“I live in Brooklyn.”

“I know,” she whips her head up. Jeremy looks sheepish, which she didn’t even think was something he knew how to do. “Seth mentioned it when we caught up a bit ago. I also still follow you on Instagram.”

She tries again. “It’s been five years.”

“And I’m here sitting with you and still feel the exact same way I did back then. Even more, to be honest.” He eyes her pointedly. “Any more excuses?”

Her voice softens. “You really hurt me.”

“I know. And I’m so sorry, Noelle.”

“I hurt you too.”

He shrugs. “We were young and stupid.”

“And we’re still not?” Noelle says with a snort before swallowing. “I’m not the same person you fell in love with.”

“I’m sure I’m not either. But I don’t know if there’s a world where I don’t love every version of you.”

“Even after reading the book?”

“Especially after reading the book,” he sighs. “Noelle, I know this is unfair of me. All of this. And I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to reach out. But I always intended to. And then you’re here? And I see you twice in two days? I’d be an idiot to not try. More of an idiot than I am, anyways.”

“Try for what?”

“A second chance? To be friends? Whatever you want.” He suddenly deflates. “Even if you don’t want anything to do with me. At least I’ll know.”

“Why did you never text me?”

“I thought about it a lot,” he admits. “I tried once, actually, after the high of a really good win. But it didn’t go through. I got the message.”

“The message?”

“You blocked me, right?”

Oh. “Yeah,” she lies. “I did.” She reaches into her bag for a pen and gestures for the book, which he gives to her, a curious gleam in his eyes. “I’m in Boston for two more days, including today.”

He takes the hint immediately. Eagerly. “I have a game tonight, but I’m free tomorrow.”

“Who are you guys playing?”

“Toronto. And I’m starting. Should be a good one.”

She hums non-committedly, scribbling on the inside of the front cover. She hands it back to him with a small, close-lipped smile. She nods at him to read the message.

to my first fan, 

i still love you too. 

xxx-xxx-xxxx

yours, 

noelle

He looks up, eyes shining but a bit confused. 

“I never blocked you. I just changed my number.”

“Oh.”

“And even if I still love you, I’m still mad at you.”

“I know. I’d be more surprised if you weren’t.”

She stands up, adjusting the bag on her shoulder and putting her sunglasses on. “Text me?”

His mouth splits wide into a grin. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

She backs away with one last attempt at a smile before turning down the street.