#and we were still doing practices at MY apartment with MY piano

[daisydisciple]

ok so I'm the new choir director in my ysa ward and we sang today and it turned out really good and a bunch of people came up to me (both in the choir and not) and thanked me for putting it together and the bishop texted me and thanked me and ✨💕✨🌸🎵✨ anyway it's just nice to be appreciated bc I did put in a lot of effort and it didn't feel so much like pulling teeth getting people to come like last time I was choir director in my last ward and like. yeah just doing my calling I'm happy to do it but everyone was being so nice to me :)

[steddieas-shegoes]

Steve grows up playing piano, absolutely hates it, but is so good at it. His parents aren’t around enough by the time he’s a teen to force him to his practices, so he slowly stops going.

His music teacher happens to be Robin’s mom, who studied at Juilliard, and traveled for nearly a decade with various orchestras and bands before settling down with her husband in Hawkins.

She can see what’s going on with Steve from day one, but knows better than to interfere.

Until he quits.

She can’t stand by and let someone so musically gifted give it up.

She shows up at his house with a violin, her own violin that she hadn’t used in years.

He’s hesitant at first, but decides to give it a try as long as she doesn’t tell his parents. The last thing he wants is for them to find out he picked up a new instrument.

She can’t give him official lessons, so she shows up to his house twice a week and hopes that he practices in his own time.

He’s a natural.

He takes to it like a duck to water.

She encourages him to perform in a local talent show, all kids under 18, most of them not half as talented as he is.

He only agrees when she says she’ll be front row.

And sure enough, for once in his life, someone shows up when they say they will. She’s sitting front row with her husband on one side and her daughter on the other. She smiles as he takes the stage, nervous about people who know him seeing him and reporting back to his parents.

He performs with heart, something he lacked with the piano. He performs with talent, something he may have with any instrument he picks up.

But most importantly, he plays with a smile. He’s having fun.

He sticks around to watch some of the other people performing: Tammy Thompson singing a very out of tune rendition of America The Beautiful, some kid from one of his classes playing piano miserably, and some band performing very loud, very angry music.

Steve wins, and for once, it feels better than when he wins at a swim meet or basketball game.

He spends the next three years secretly practicing, only performing in shows out of town, never saying anything to his parents.

He doesn’t want them to ruin this for him.

He applies to Juilliard, not thinking he has a chance in hell, not with his academic grades.

Luckily, they see that he’s “exceptional with the strings” and “plays with emotion that can’t be trained.”

He gets in.

He goes.

He thinks he may actually be able to do this, use a gift he has to make his life better.

His parents even find it acceptable, mostly because he got into the best school he could have. They still don’t bother showing up for his shows, but Mrs. Buckley always finds a way.

In his sophomore year, Robin gets in, and they both move into a small apartment off campus together. He promised to look out for her.

She tells him that music wasn’t really her passion, she was just good with a trumpet. She really wanted to be an engineer.

In his junior year, Robin transfers to Columbia, starts doing what she really wanted to do from the start. He’s proud of her, but misses having someone on campus during the day to have lunch with.

Until he stumbles, literally, into someone vaguely familiar.

“Sorry, man. Running late.”

Steve pats the man on the shoulder and turns to get to his class when the man stops him.

“Harrington? You’re a student here?”

He turns back and finally recognizes the man in front of him.

“Munson? When did you get here?”

“I got in this year. Kinda fucked up my first audition last year and they were kind enough to give me another shot.” Eddie smiled. “What on earth are you here for?”

“Violin. You?”

“Guitar and songwriting.”

“That’s great, man. I’m just really running late. Catch up soon?”

Soon was two weeks later, when Steve ran into Eddie again while leaving class.

“We should probably stop running into each other like this,” Eddie smirked. “The universe is trying to tell us something.”

“What’s it trying to tell us?”

“Not sure. Maybe we should go grab dinner and find out.”

“Now?”

“Why not? Got better plans?”

Steve thought about how Robin was barely at the apartment due to studying for midterms. He thought about how his only other friend from here was busy rehearsing for their senior showcase.

“Nah. Let me bring this home first,” he held up his violin case. “Actually.”

Steve was on a budget. His parents gave him money, sure, but they thought he was living on campus so the money they sent covered rent and groceries and nothing else.

“I could make dinner. If you want?”

“Steve Harrington cooks? And plays violin?” Eddie fake swooned. “Be still my beating heart. How will I not be seduced?”

Steve rolled his eyes. He remembered Eddie’s dramatics from school and knew better than to feed into them.

“I can make some spaghetti. Nothing fancy.”

“Spaghetti sounds great,” Eddie’s fake swoon turned to a soft smile. “You want some help?”

Steve didn’t need help, usually didn’t even want any.

But something about the way his stomach dipped when Eddie stepped closer, and the way he thought about having Eddie in his apartment, made him agree.

“Sure.”

They walked to Steve’s apartment in a comfortable silence, though Eddie kept tapping the back of his fingers against Steve’s hand.

Eddie fit next to Steve. They cooked together, they ate together, they even managed to clean up together. It was easy to find something to talk about. He’d never clicked with anyone like this, not even Robin.

By the time Robin came home, Steve and Eddie were both passed out on the couch, fingers laced together as if they hadn’t been brave enough to do anything more before they fell asleep.

By morning, Steve’s head was on Eddie’s shoulder, Eddie’s arm wrapped around him loosely.

Waking up to a soft kiss on his lips was something Steve couldn’t have imagined when he first ran into Eddie, but he was pretty glad it was how he started his day.

And almost every day after that, whether he woke up to a kiss, or met up with Eddie on campus for a kiss, he started his day with love on his lips.

[cherryswisherz]

KARMIC BALANCE ✷ CHAPTER I

✷WARNINGS cursing, unrequited love, shitty parents

✷NIYAH SPEAKS #justice4farrah yall should know this is a slow burn

✦✦✦✦

SENIOR YEAR

In theory, coming home for Thanksgiving is supposed to be a relief. I’m supposed to bask in the free washing machine and dryer.

But in actuality, nothing is free. Not in my house. 

While I don’t actually pay for the washer and dryer with USD, I pay in silent tears and withheld remarks. 

Y’know how in the movies, the wealthy family is actually really chill and has to pretend to be prim and proper in front of company? Well, in the Johnson household, we actually are prim and proper. 

Even though no one but me and my parents are here, I have to keep my tattoos covered, my piercings hidden and my locs are braided down and a quick-weave is flowing a little past my shoulders. 

My room is still disgustingly monochromatic with every piece of furniture being the same shade of blue as my walls and bedspread. The rest of the house is just as basic with a black and silver theme.  It’s nothing like Jane and I’s apartment, where there’s yellows and greens and oranges everywhere. 

Last night, when I called Jane to check on her and see how well Yanna was blending in with her family, she told me that she loved being home, and she never wanted to go back to Storrs. She told me that they loved Yanna and that they made humiliating jokes about her height. She told me that they got her case for not introducing her sooner and that she’d better keep her. 

I fucking hate being at home. Every time I come here, I’m overwhelmed with the judgment. I’d never invite my friends from college to come with me for a break and I sure as shit I couldn’t imagine ever bringing a girlfriend here to introduce her to my parents.

“Anita, come make sure the piano is tuned for tonight.” I cringe at the use of my middle name.

Mom’s always called me Anita instead of Xavia because that’s what she wanted to name me.

Dad always wanted a boy so he could have a junior and name him Xavier, but by the time they found out I was a girl, Mom had already decided that she was never doing the pregnancy thing again, so they just made Xavier into Xavia and that was that. 

 “Okay give me two seconds to get dressed.” I shout so she can hear me through the door. 

My parents never really supported the whole ‘there’s no privacy in this house’ thing. They allowed me to close and lock my door as I pleased, which I’m grateful for in this moment because if Mom saw me with this Backwoods bonnet on she would lose her fucking mind. 

After looking in the mirror and deciding I’m Parental-Unit-Presentable, I make my way down the stairs and sit on the piano bench. 

Mom wanted to name me Anita, after Anita Baker, because she wanted my voice to be as beautiful as hers, but I can’t even describe the hurt displayed on her face when she learned that I can’t sing. So she put me in private piano lessons when I was six and I’ve been playing at every party they’ve hosted since then. 

I’m actually really good at piano. I just hate playing for my parents’ events because everyone always stops to watch me play. They always have this impressed look on their face, like they’re more amazed by the person playing the music, rather than the music itself. 

Ripped from my thoughts, I answer the FaceTime from Jane and smile when I see her and Yanna cuddled up in a hammock. 

Jane and Ayanna have been together since freshman year when we stayed in the dorms. The day after the party that they were introduced at, Yanna dm’d Jane and asked if she wanted to get hangover smoothies with her and the rest was history. They’re sickeningly in love, and Jane is for sure going to get her league babies. 

“Hey Xavi, whatcha doin’? Jane asks. 

“Practicing piano for the annual Johnson Thanksgiving party, what about you?” 

“Uh, we’re in the hammock in my backyard, but forget that. Why have I never known that you play piano?” 

“Because it’s never been relevant to any conversation we’ve had.” 

“Bro you could have played for Geno’s fundraiser!” Yanna butts in. 

“Yeah I’m not doing that but do you wanna hear me play something?” I asked, trying to change the subject. Playing at events like that is the exact setting I hate playing at. 

“Of course!” Jane squeals- literally squeals- with excitement. 

As I play the song, my mind travels to an alternate reality. 

If I’d stayed in Storrs like I’d wanted, Jane and I would be at the UCONN women’s basketball team’s house tonight. Having Friendsgiving and enjoying each other. Jane and Yanna would be attached at the hip, KK would tell us all that she’s thankful for us in the most sarcastic way, we’d all talk about how much we miss Nika and Aaliyah, Farrah would say how thankful she is for Paige, and Paige would awkwardly smile and try to hide how much she hates her girlfriend. 

Let me rephrase: she doesn’t hate Farrah, she just hates dating her. She’s never said this but if you asked me, to Paige, Farrah is a spectacle. The pretty girl that wears her jersey at games and jumps into her arms after a big win. She doesn’t actually love her. Hell, she doesn’t even like her. But Paige has the mindset of every serious athlete.  She needs a pretty girl on her arm so that her image looks a certain way. 

By the time the song is over and Jane and I have gossiped about which side of her family is bringing the mac and cheese, I have an hour to get ready for the party. So I take my shower and do my make-up and squeeze myself into the dress Mom bought for this specific occasion. 

And when I’m all dolled up and ready for high society, I walk downstairs and greet the guests before assuming my position on the piano. 

The night goes by smoothly. I smile in between songs, and close my eyes when I’m actually playing. I take requests for Christmas songs, even though it’s Thanksgiving and decline tip offers that people make because they think I’m hired help, rather than the daughter of the hosts. 

At the end of it all, I stalk back to my room, exhausted and ready to sleep. I check my socials and see that Jane and Yanna are already on a flight back to Storrs and make a mental note to set my alarm so I can be at LAX by 9 in the morning. I see KK’s close friend's story, showcasing her new tattoo. I see that Farrah and Paige went to Farrahs for the break. 

I swallow the part of me that yearns to be the one hanging on Paige’s arms and instead focus on the part of me that wishes I was having a good time at home.

Everyone is enjoying being at home, surrounded by family and friends. Meanwhile, I’m miserable and avoid my parents at all costs. 

God, I fucking hate being home. 

“What about you Paige? What are you thankful for?”

Farrah’s mom sits at one end of the table and her dad sits at the other. Her siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins and even a few family friends are all staring at me, waiting for me to say what I’m thankful for. I feel like I’m at a fucking press conferance right now and anything I say can be used against me. 

“Um- I’m thankful for my family, my team and my friends.” I say and go back to picking at the plate in front of me. The way I see it, the less I talk the better. 

“And of course Farrah, right?” Mr. Musa speaks in the most chill voice ever, but still, my heart stops. 

“Oh- Yeah of course! Always thankful for my girl!” I rev up the cheer and sling my arm around Farrah, planting a kiss on her cheek. 

“AWWW!” Mrs. Musa gushes, “How sweet!”

Good fucking save, P.

When Farrah and I return to her childhood bedroom, the look on her face tells me that even though I fooled her parents, I wasn’t off the hook. 

“You couldn’t remember to say my name for Thanksgiving?” I think she’s trying to sound mad, but I know her feelings are hurt. “We’ve been together for almost five years, and you couldn’t say my name at the table?” 

I can’t even really be mad at her. If I was her, I’d be pissed. 

“Faye, it was an accident.” I say, going to my duffel bag to get my clothes and bathroom necessities. I just want this day to be over. “You know how grateful I am for you.” When I get to the bathroom, I lock the door and look in the mirror. 

You probably think I’m a horrible person, and you may not be wrong in your assumption. I met Farrah freshman year, and we were friends for a solid two weeks before I asked her to be my girlfriend. I really did have feelings for her at the time, but after about six months, the feelings faded. By that time, the internet had become enveloped in our relationship. She was the topic of every interview, every DM, every comment. They loved us. My agent's exact words were, “You’re the internet's parents.”

So I couldn’t leave her. It would have been too messy and hurt the way the media viewed me. 

So here we are, four years later. I’m on my last chance at a national championship, and Farrah is in her masters program. Almost five years and we have nothing to show for it; haven’t moved in together, gotten promise rings or matching tattoos, or any real sign of our commitment to each other. Each public display of attachment made me sick, sex felt like a chore, even coming to her parents house, felt completely unnecessary. 

In the shower, I wash the day away under the burning water. I mentally prepare myself for an even more emotional Farrah as I dry off. I think of a gameplan on the way back to her room. 

And when I get there, I see Farrah, just as I’d expected. Tears streaking down her face, hands shaking, and leg tapping at a demonic speed. 

“Faye what’s going on?” Faking oblivion was the best route. 

“I just-” She sucks in a breath and pushed the hair out of her face. When her eyes meet mine, I turn to put my things away. “I just can’t believe that you didn’t say my name.” I turn around to find her right behind me with her hands on her hips. “Are you not thankful for me? Are you mad at me? Are you not happy in the relationship?” 

Some caged, suppressed part of me bangs at its enclosure and screams TELL HER THE TRUTH YOU ASSHOLE! THIS IS YOUR CHANCE!” 

But I step into her space and grab Farrah’s waist, pulling her to me, fighting off the grimace that threatens to take over my face. In this moment, telling her what she wants to hear is the only way to fix this. 

When her hands grip my sides, mine grab her face. I make a show of looking her in the eyes and say, “Farrah Musa. You have idea how fucking grateful I am for you. I wouldn’t be where I am without you. You make my life so much easier on a daily basis. You’re funny and sweet and I’m grateful that you choose to share yourself with me.”

It’s not even a lie. Like I said, Farrah was my friend before any of this, and she really is a funny and kind person. We’d be great friends if I hadn’t royally complicated things between us. And she does make my life easier. Without her, I wouldn’t have gained the attention I have, and therefore I wouldn’t have accomplished all that I have.

She tries to fight the smile, but it’s plastered on her face before she can remember what she was even mad about. 

“I love you, Paigey.” 

“I love you too Faye.” That’s the lie. “Now come on, let’s lay down.”

Twenty minutes later, I’m scrolling on my phone with my back to Farrah. I’ve never been a cuddler. I know she’s still awake, because I can hear her nails tap on her phone every time she swipes. 

On Instagram, I slide up and yell at KK for not telling me that she was getting a tattoo. I like Yannas story of her and Jane in turkey onesies. I debate asking Xavia about the picture of her hand on a piano, but decide against it. 

She liked the story I posted of Farrah and I with our plates, which threw me off because Xavia is the only one, besides Azzi, who can tell that I’m dying in this relationship. 

She’s always making weird faces when Farrah and I hold hands or kiss, and she’s never tried to get to know Farrah, which of course bothers the fuck out of her because she wants everyone to like her.  Xavia’s never flat out said anything, but I always get the vibe that she knows something is up. 

I wonder what she’s doing right now. I know her parents are like- filthy rich- but she’s never said anything about them. She does have an ‘eat the rich’ sticker on her laptop, but I think that’s an old artifact from her teenage rebellion. 

She’s always so happy, and preaches about doing good deeds and being good to others so others will be good to you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her cry, and even when she’s upset, she’s never gone below the belt. When I think of Xavia, I think of the hippy family member that genuinely strives for world peace.

She’s a really good friend to Jane and she’s just become a part of the family over the years. But she’s also a mystery to me. She never talks about herself, always counselling everyone else. 

I’m pulled out of my thoughts but Azzi FaceTiming me. Making sure Farrah is asleep by now, I creep down the hall to the bathroom and answer. 

“Yo,” 

“How was your Thanksgiving loser?” She’s flossing her teeth. 

“Uh- It was fine…”

“What did you do, Paige?” she deadpans and looks at her phone.

“Bro why do you always think I did something?”

“Because you’re always fucking doing something.” She’s got a point.

“I forgot to say her name when we were saying what we’re thankful for.” Azzi’s jaw drops like she’s a cartoon character. “But don’t even worry! I fixed it, we’re good now.”

“No! You’re not ‘good’, Paige!” Judging by the look on her face, and the tone in her voice, I know I’m about to get a world class Azzi Fudd lecture. “You can’t keep doing this to Farrah. She’s a really good girl, and the longer you string her along, the more it’s gonna hurt her when you eventually can’t lie to her anymore and that’s gonna come back to bite you in the ass.”

I sigh at her dramatics but she nips that in the bud quickly. 

“Don’t fucking dismiss me Paige.” she wags her finger at me like an old woman. “Hell hath no fury, like a woman scorned.”

I don’t think she understands that I don’t want to be doing this. I don’t wanna be this  ‘ asshole who lies to everyone. But I don’t have a choice. 

When I go to sleep, I think about how much different my life would be if I’d never asked Farrah out that day. Yeah, I wouldn’t be as fortunate, but I’d probably still have a fucking soul.

✷TAGLIST @patscorner @riyahtheballer @mattslolita @thaatdigitaldiary @janaelalfysblunt @mrsengstler @kmoneymartini @sageworld

@darkskinchristiandiorpostergirl @justliketoreadsowhat @pb524830 @dnftpn @sierrale8ne @numberonepartyanth3m

@pppaaiiiggggeeeeee @uwupaige @paigeluvvr @colorthecosmos444 @authentic-girl03 @makethemhoesmad @lovegalor333

@sellasstories @heart4caitlin @avvwritesstufff @st4rrzynight @bueckersstrap @paxaz535

@mrsarnold @thelightknight21 @bueckersp @ellapurnellmybeloved @darcyemmasgf @cbfj177

[ratedfleur]

… prince!jake who took a liking into the head guard’s daughter who recently became a maid for his sister..

jake knew it was practically impossible to be able to have even a brief moment with you when he knew that you were like his sister’s tail, so he quickly formulated a plan that he wish he could execute well.

waltzing through the halls, jake walked gracefully with a hum accompanying him, smile gently placed on his face as he greeted those maids and palace guards that he passed by as he made his way towards his little sister’s piano room.

he didn’t bother to knock and instead he quickly and quietly slipped into the room like a mice looking for cheese, and alas, you were right there standing prettily by the wall as his sister, julie, was gracefully playing the piano.

julie's fingers came crashing down when she caught a whiff of jake’s wood-like perfume when he tried to walk past her, an array of notes came when her fingers harshly pressed the piano keys, “oppa, why are you here?” julie says, face stoic as she turned her head to look at jake who cheekily smiled at her, clearly caught in the act as he stood straight with his hands clasped together.

“oh nothing, can’t i just hang with you? i mean, you have a few weeks before you’re to be sent off to london, can’t i bond with my baby sister?” jake asks, eyes clearly pure and innocent as he spoke to julie. 

furrowing her brows at him, she dismisses him with a wave of the hand before she turned her head to face the piano once more, “i suppose you could stay.. oppa, please just don’t interrupt me while i play this last song then i guess we could hang.” she says while making air quotations.

smiling triumphantly, jake quickly makes his way beside you who let out a little sound when he stood beside you, merely a few inches apart from you.

you knew you couldn’t look jake straight in the eye when he turned his head to look at you, you simply kept your head down, eyes fixated on the ground as your hands fiddled around with themselves despite seeing jake’s feet turn to face you.

“you are permitted to look at me, you know? i don’t bite unlike that little dragon over there.” jake jokes, making you purse your lips into a line as you turned your head as you looked up at jake, eyes innocently looking at jake’s sharp ones that curve into a smile when he meets eyes with you.

seeing that you were shy, jake turns back to avoid your gaze, hearing you take a little breath of relief when he does turn away from you. you kept your eyes fixated on your master who continued to gracefully play the piano, a soft melody emitting from the piano which echoed all over the piano room.

now that you’ve seen jake a little up close, you noticed how your young master had the same features as the man, she had puppy like features, much like an angrier and fiercer version of jake’s softer ones.

despite nearly resembling each other, their personalities were far from the same. just like their different features, it was exactly the same as their personalities. jake had the puppy-like and friendly personality whilst your young master was blunt and stoic.

lost in your own thoughts, you didn’t notice how jake was quietly speaking to you, “… here?” jake asks, head slightly turned to look at you.

flustered, you turned your body to face him before you bowed as an apology, “apologies, my lord.. could you repeat that? i wasn’t paying attention..” you say shyly, eyes still avoiding jake’s who had his eyes curled up into a smile as he chuckled.

“i said, how are you liking it here? it hasn’t been long since you moved to the palace, am i mistaken?” jake asks once more, eyes twinkling when you do nod because he made sure that your stay in the palace is well, always reminding his maid to take care of you in his behalf.

silence blankets itself over you both, making jake's eyes dart from all over the room as he thought of another topic, clearly i didn't think this through, jake thought to himself.

"have you seen the new garden? aren't the new flowers marvelous?" jake asks, pointing over to the window where the garden could be seen.

your eyes twinkle, making jake smile when you ramble about the new flowers you’ve planted for the dear queen a few weeks ago.

"i just think the garden looks breathtaking with the new peruvian lilies– were.. were you listening?" you ask as you turned your head to look at jake who seemed uninterested in your ramble, his eyes were empty before he blinked at you.

"you're pretty." jake says blankly before your cheeks flush red when jake's own cheeks mirror your own, his eyes avoid yours as he looks on the ground before the huge doors push open, revealing the king who's eyes immediately land on jake's guilty ones.

"jake, come along. do remember not to bother julie when she's making use of her practice time." the king's voice booms in the room as jake sheepishly smiles at you, bidding his goodbyes before leaving alongside the king.

[hyukalyptus]

txt proposal headcanons!

cw. gn!reader, slightly smutty in yj's but every other one is fluffy and sfw, mention of hiking and food in beomgyu's, reader is a pianist in kai's, kissing, "i love you". notes. 2 fics in 2 days from hp???? OMG!! just wanted to do something quick and fun.

yeonjun - it's early on a sunday. he woke up way too early but could not get back to sleep and instead got started on making sure everything was absolutely perfect. his rubs your upper arm to wake you gently. ur blurry vision clears up to be welcomed by the sight of his pretty makeup-free face. but looking around, the room's full of candles and rose petals. and he says, "good morning, my love." he takes your hands, takes a deep breath and says, "you are so beautiful." tears prick his eyes but you still have no idea what's going on. "you're everything i've ever wanted. you're perfect." then he pulls out a black ring box and you gasp, covering your mouth. "jjun, are you—" "will you marry me?" after an obvious yes and lots of tears, you can't think of any other way to express your love for each apart from making incredible, passionate love. hands all over bodies. shared breath between each other.

soobin - rents a room at a museum for the night and creates his own little exhibit of all the pictures you've taken together over the years. as you walk in the room and take a look around, you can't help but let tears flow down your cheeks. pictures of the first six months of ur relationship all shy and still awkward, then photos of trips you took together, anniversaries, every moment he insisted on capturing. and ur so thankful he did. you're taking everything in—your favorite song playing over a room full of your favorite pictures—and then you turn around to see soobin on one knee, holding out a ring. before he can even speak, u drop to ur knees, wrapping ur arms around his neck, whispering "yes, yes, yes" and "i love you, i love you, i love you." he giggles, "i haven't even asked yet!" you laugh, resting back on ur knees, holding his free hand with both of yours. and finally, a simple, "will you marry me?"

beomgyu - packs a picnic and makes you hike up a mountain in the middle of the night. usually, he'd be groaning and grumpy all the way up but this time, it's you. "gyu...why are we even hiking at 1am?" and he keeps smugly saying, "you'll see!" but you just assume he's being annoying and messing with you. when you get to the top and look up at the gorgeous stars in the sky, you gasp and look over at him, looking back at you like i told you so. you go in for a hug and "i'm sorry i whined the whole time....." and y'all can't stop giggling. spreading out a blanket, you snuggle into each other, staring up at the sky. right as a shooting star goes by, he watches ur face, thinking ur so much prettier. he whispers his proposal and you think ur dreaming. but you simply turn ur head and say, "of course i'll marry you."

taehyun - takes you to a gorgeous, gorgeous garden, pergolas dripping in vines and florals. a tiny waterfall nearby. he didn't make a big deal about it that day. just asked to take you somewhere pretty. he did make sure to get your favorite drink and snacks. and you spend so much time walking around, being clingy, holding hands, kissing. he's so complimentary the whole time, but you don't think much of it. that's how he always is, to be fair. finally, he brings you to the most secluded corner of the garden. and he gives the sweetest speech you've ever heard. about how much he loves you, how he knew you were the one the moment he met you, how much you mean to him, how he wants to grow old with you. then, he pulls out a stunning ring and asks you to marry him.

hueningkai - both of you are musicians and it's common for you to be each other's page turners when practicing piano. one of you sits in a chair near the piano bench, following along with the music and turning the pages when it's time. and today, he asks you to do just that. but today's special. he wrote a song for you. "will you turn the pages for me please?' he asks sweetly, kissing your cheek. you listen intently, being sure to keep up with the notes while appreciating the gorgeous song for what it is. a few pages in, you flip a page and written in his messy handwriting, it says, "will you marry me?" it takes a second to process, but once you do, you're giggling, wrapping ur arms around him, kissing his cheek, saying "yes, yes! ohmygosh, yes!!"

[spiderceo]

− ⌗ vaudeville vows pt.2 ⊹.∿

summary; alastor shows up to ruin your evening in his own fun little way.

tags; gender-neutral reader, reader can play piano and sing, reader gets used to alastor surprisingly fast and he (definitely) doesn’t like that, sugary sweet manipulation, scopophobia (fear of being watched or stared at), alastor’s stupid mangled body

word count; 2.2k

pairing; alastor x reader

a/n; i plan to make chapters longer in the future so hopefully you enjoy that kind of thing. i also have proof-read this. as usual, reposts are greatly appreciated <3

tag list; @chewbrry @zatrinaxxx

master post | part one

Days passed since your first encounter with Alastor. He hadn’t shown his face again in your apartment which you were extremely happy for. But even though he wasn’t there physically, there was always this awful feeling of being watched no matter where you went. It was that bad that you struggled to even go for a shower or get changed for work in the mornings.

The whole while this was happening, you couldn’t shake the idea of the demon’s proposal. The allure of fame and fortune continued to tug at your thoughts every time you passed by your piano. The instrument now served as a reminder of what you could have had. Having someone like Alastor to guide you to your full potential would mean you could have so many great things. It was a tantalising dream that seemed just out of reach.

The days turned into weeks and still you remained steadfast in your decision against accepting the deal. Life had gone back to normal and the staring had reduced in its intensity. Whenever you got home from work, you managed to sit down at your piano and get some practice in. Part of you wanted to prove you didn’t need to make a deal with a demon to achieve what you wanted.

However, fate works in mysterious ways and we don’t always get what we want.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the city was bathed in the soft glow of twilight, you found yourself lost in your music once more. The melody flowed smoothly from your fingertips, weaving a tapestry of sound that filled the room with warmth and light. You sung along quietly with a content smile on your face. This had been your calmest night by far, until an awful feeling washed over you.

A chill ran down your spine as you looked around the room. The sensation of hundreds of little eyes watching you made your skin crawl as the temperature dropped. The lights in your apartment dimmed and flickered and your hands shakily slid away from the piano keys. Your eyes landed on a dark corner of the room where a lanky shadow stood. Eyes with a familiar shade of carmine pierced your soul and you couldn’t help but keep your body completely still.

He hadn’t moved from his spot, just tilted his head as if to tell you to continue what you were doing. If he hadn’t been a scary looking creature that wanted your soul, you probably would have found this gesture cute. Alastor’s eyes carried a look of amusement in them as he waited for you to do something.

Should you continue playing? Is that what he wanted?

You carefully turned your back to him and felt your hands tremble as they went back to their positions on the piano. With uncertainty, you pressed the keys and began to play a different song from before. This one was a bit more well known despite it’s age, and had also featured a lot in your grandad’s record collection.

‘Anything Goes’ by Cole Porter.

The beginning of the tune rung out and was immediately halted by Alastor’s presence reappearing on your left. “My dear musician,” he addressed you as if you were old friends, his voice exaggerated as always. “Your playing is splendid, but I feel that something is missing.”

You tensed at his words, unsure of what he meant. Before you could respond, Alastor took a step forward with his wicked grin becoming slightly smaller — he looked less like he was straining. This was how his expression usually sat, you guessed. But smiling constantly must be painful, right? Perhaps demons didn’t feel that type of pain.

“Why don’t you sing with me, my dear?” his gaze never left yours as you could feel your heart ready to beat out of your chest. A mix of excitement and trepidation coursed through your veins at the thought of singing with Alastor. Sharing a duet with a devil wasn’t something you got to do everyday. “Sing with you?” you queried, not quite sure if he was joking or not behind that talk-show voice of his. The idea of the duet was both thrilling and terrifying in equal measure. Sharing the stage with a demonic being was definitely something you could tell the grandkids one day.

“Why, of course! I wouldn’t pass up the chance to perform with a talent such as yourself, now would I?” Alastor sure knew how to sweet talk his way into getting what he wanted. You glanced at the piano, its keys beckoning you to return your hands to them. You knew you couldn’t resist this time, and decided it wouldn’t hurt to entertain Alastor just this once.

With a weary smile, you began to play once more, letting the melody of the song flow with effortless grace. And as you finished the intro, your voice began to accompany your playing. It was trembling, unlike when you were alone. Alastor’s overbearing presence was making it hard to focus on the words. It wasn’t until radio crackles filled the room and more instruments joined in. Along with them came the demon’s familiar accented voice.

Your singing quietened as you listened to the creature sing. His voice was pleasing to the ear and with the added effect of a vintage radio, it reminded you of home — listening to your grandad’s records play as you ran around his garden and he sat in his rocking chair on the porch. The pleasant memories brought a bigger smile to your face as you forgot all about the fact that who you were singing with was trying to capture your soul.

For a moment, you and Alastor were united in a devil’s duet. Your singing was more confident as the demon leaned against your piano casually. Even when he sung, his toothy smile never ceased. And as the music eventually faded back to static, you met his gaze that was just as oppressive as it had always been. A glimmer of approval appeared in them as he moved to pace behind you. You turned to watch him as his boots clicked against the floor and he twirled a cane behind his back.

“Marvellous, my dear! Simply marvellous!” he praised, coming to a stop and stretching his arms out wide with great exaggeration (You hadn’t noticed just how lanky his limbs were until now). His tone was dripping with satisfaction and you couldn’t help but feel a tinge of pride at the fact you had impressed him. Your subconscious was whispering to you that maybe taking his deal wouldn’t be so bad if these were the emotions you got out of it. It had been so long since you showed your music to anyone and his reaction was slowly pulling you towards his clutches.

As you pondered your next move, Alastor’s stare was unwavering. He had moved into a more relaxed position with his arms back behind him, still holding that cane of his. The demon’s presence was a reminder of the choice that lay before you. No matter what choice you made, there was always the certainty that Alastor would continue to be a pest in your life. If you refused his deal then there was nothing stopping him from sticking around until you finally caved or he came up with another proposition.

Exhaustion hit you like a brick wall when your eyes caught sight of the clock on the wall. It was almost two in the morning and you had work later in the day. You groaned and made a move to get up. “Leaving so soon?” the demon didn’t sound the least bit concerned about where you were going. His tone hinted at a secret plan to simply annoy you.

“The night is still young and I’d like another song.” Alastor requested, switching places with you. He now sat at your piano while you stood glaring at him through half-lidded eyes. “I need to get ready for bed,” you sighed, desperately trying to find words as to not offend him. Having an angry demon on your hands sounded worse than giving away your soul at the moment. “I have an early start tomorrow.” you tried to justify yourself.

Instead of a response, Alastor simply slipped away into shadows. You stared confused at the spot where he once sat. That was odd…not a single goodbye or comment. You tried not to linger on it too much and left to do your nightly routine.

The fluorescent light in your bathroom made a light buzzing sound as you turned it on. The tiles were cold on your feet as you shuffled in and grabbed your toothbrush. You knew you were alone now but that all familiar feeling of being watched remained persistent. Glancing nervously in the mirror, you half-expected to see Alastor’s sinister grin staring back at you. All that appeared, however, was your own tired visage which donned bags under its eyes.

After you finished, you left the bathroom and immediately went to change. You grabbed the first set of pyjamas out your drawers and slipped into them with haste. Crawling into bed, you made yourself comfortable and turned out the lamp on your side table. You tried to ignore the creaks of the floorboards and the uncharacteristic cold in the room but it was bothering you too much.

“Still awake there?” came Alastor’s voice from somewhere in the room. You rolled face first into one of your pillows sleepily. You knew he hadn’t left altogether. “Go away, Alastor,” your voice was muffled by fabric as you willed it not to shake. He still made you uneasy but you could manage it as long as you didn’t look him in the eye. “I just want to sleep.” you squeezed your eyes shut tighter and mentally hoped he would take the hint and go.

But Alastor was tenacious, his laughter that filled the room was accompanied by a faint laugh track. “But where’s the fun in that?” he teased, his voice coming from multiple directions at once. “Surely you wouldn’t deny me the pleasure of your company?”

You grit your teeth. Trying to ignore him was almost impossible as his voice bounced off the walls of your room. You tried to block out the sound with your pillow but even that did nothing to muffle it. No matter how hard you tried, sleep remained elusive as your new pest continued to ask you numerous questions purely for his own entertainment.

His insidious whispers penetrated your mind, you could feel them twisting and coiling like serpents, their venomous words seeping into every crevice of your consciousness. With a surge of frustration and fear, you bolted upright, your gaze fixating on the ghastly figure perched at the foot of your bed.

His form was twisted and contorted, limbs elongated and skeletal, like some grotesque parody of the human form. Antlers sprouted from his skull, their jagged points piercing through the walls and ceiling of your room. The glow of his eyes illuminated the darkness, casting an unearthly green hue that seemed to dance with malevolent intent as radio dials ticked within them.

But it was his grin that sent a shiver down your spine, a macabre smile stitched together with glowing green threads that threatened to unravel at any moment. Each stitch seemed to pulse with a sickly light, as if straining against the weight of the demon’s own malevolence.

You narrowed your eyes, your resolve hardening in the face of his unsettling presence. You craved sleep more than anything and if it meant scolding a demon to get it, then so be it. Despite the fear gnawing at the edges of your mind, you refused to cower before this twisted abomination. Your voice was filled with steely determination as you met his gaze and spoke.

“Leave me alone, Alastor.” you commanded, your tone ringing with defiance. The dead serious expression on your face was almost laughable. For a moment, Alastor’s smile faltered and his form shrunk down. A low chuckle crackled from his chest as he disappeared into the darkness, leaving your alone with only the memory of what you saw.

Now that he was gone, you let out the gasping breath you didn’t realise you were holding in. You tried to steady your racing heart as you placed a hand to your chest. With trembling hands, you reached for the lamp on your bedside table, casting a warm glow across the room that banished the shadows to the corners. But even in the soft light, you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that clung to the air like a suffocating fog.

As you lay back against the pillows, exhaustion weighing heavy on your limbs, you couldn’t help but wonder: Was this only a temporary reprieve? The idea left a nagging sense of dread that picked away at your conscious. If he was like this now, you hated to see what he would pull later on. A demon like him was hound to have more tricks up his sleeve than just shapeshifting.

You were baffled that he even listened to you. Something told you that he was limited to what he could and couldn’t do without a contract between you both. You knew he could probably cause you physical harm given the way he could interact with your environment. So maybe it wasn’t what he could do to you, but rather how much time he had with you. You pushed the thoughts aside for the night and pulled yourself back under the covers.

Lingering fear aside, sleep eventually claimed you, dragging you down into the depths of unconsciousness where dreams and nightmares intertwined in a tangled web of darkness.

[bitchinbarzal]

Here’s an angst idea

After having Wyatt, Mama B, and Mat decided that it was best if Mama B stepped back from her job so that someone could care for their kids 24/7.

Once Hockey season resumes, the weight of everything started to fall on Mama B a lot. 4 kids, and you’re practically a single mother. You have 2 kids in school with active hobbies, a clingy two-year-old and a newborn.

Her husband? He’s either on a roadie or going home late after celebratory drinks.

Then, they had a big fight one night. Mean things were said but Mama B’s stand is “You get to enjoy your life and career while I have to sacrifice mine. I love the kids but isn’t fair and I fear I’m losing my self of identity.”

After Wyatt was born, you’d decided to take the same six month break you’d taken with all of the other kids but as the time went on you felt like you should stay home and be with the kids.

So, you decided to take a leave of absence from the team indefinitely.

In the beginning, it was all fine. You were soaking up the newborn phase and then the off season came around so you didn’t feel any different.

When the season started back up again, Mat would come home telling you all about his day at the rink and you couldn’t help but become sort of jealous. You wondered what your boys were doing, how were the new guys getting on?

You loved Wyatt, this wasn’t about her. It was about feeling isolated from your friends, work and social life.

You sat at home alone watching stories of the devils on road trips, of your husband out drinking with his friends while you were surrounded by your sleeping kids.

During the day, you felt like you didn’t get a moment to breathe. Ryder had hockey practice almost every single night and Ivy was doing something if it was dancing, piano lessons or something. Along with the fact that the kids were still taking ASL lessons on top of all of that.

On Sunday Mat had an afternoon game and by the time he’d returned home you had already made the kids dinner and cleaned up, everything Mat promised to help with.

He walks in and the house is silent, apart from Wyatt’s gurgling.

When he enters the kids playroom he sees them all, you included having a conversation solely in sign language.

He frowns, not being able to depict the whole sentence only a few words.

“What you guys talking about?”

You all turn to look at him, you bounce wyatt in your arms.

“We’re telling Bailey a bedtime story!” Ivy announces proudly.

“You are?” He asks, walking in and picking Bailey up into his lap.

Bailey begins signing to Mat but his dad only frowns “I-I’m sorry bud I don’t know what you’re saying”

“Mat, he can’t hear you” you grumble “He’s not got his cochlear in”

Before Mat can defend himself, try and sign something to Bailey you take the toddler and mumble something about putting him to bed.

When you come back down, Mat has sent the two older kids to the playroom to watch a movie while Wyatt sleeps soundly in her bassinet by the couch.

You begin pottering around, cleaning the kids mess when Mat speaks “What did you get up to today?”

You don’t look up when you say “Same shit, different day”

He chuckles softly “they can be a little much huh?”

You scowl “and how would you know?”

Mat looks taken a back at your tone “what?”

“How would you know, Mat? How would you know what our kids are like; it’s not like you’re ever around”

You drop the rag in your hand and stare at him wildly “Well?”

He stutters “What is wrong with you?”

You let out a loud and tired sigh “What is wrong with me, Mathew is that I am tired! I’m so tired, I’ve never stopped all day since the day we brought Wyatt home and now you’re telling me you know what our kids are like as if you’re ever around!”

“I’m around-“ you laugh at that, laughing so hard you need to hold your stomach.

Mat stands there, looking like Bailey does when he’s in trouble until you stop “Oh sorry, that was a funny joke”

“It wasn’t a joke”

You point “no, you see it was a huge joke just like you Mat”

“You’re being so rude right now” is all he says and you pout, somewhat mocking him

“You know what’s rude Mat? The fact you can’t even speak to your own son” you shrug “because you’re not home to take the lessons that we agreed we would all take for Bailey!”

“I’m busy at the-“

“At the rink yes I know! I know Mat, because I wish I was at the rink, I wish I was with my team, I wish I was still at work!” You cried, angry tears lining your eyes.

He gapes “You’re mad I’m doing my job?”

“No!” You almost scream “I am not mad at you for doing your job, I’m mad at you because you stopped me from doing mine!”

“The NHL was my childhood dream y/n!”

You sob “It was mine too, Mat”

Both of your chests are rising with rapids breaths “I-I love you, Mathew and I love our kids. We have four beautiful babies here with us, but I cannot keep playing a backup role in the Mat show. I won’t do it”

Mat stands up straighter “The Mat show” he mocks “Like I haven’t always done the things you wanted, we moved house because you needed to work in jersey instead of New York, I gave up so much time chasing you while I was a rookie, everything-“

It hurt hearing that, that he felt like winning you over was an inconvenience.

“I never wanted you to chase me mat, and if you’re so resentful of it then maybe we would’ve been better of if you hadn’t tried”

His heart breaks a little, your suggestion that life would be better if you weren’t together definitely stung.

“You get to enjoy your life and career while I have to sacrifice mine, Mathew. I love the kids and I love you but all of this isn’t fair and I fear I’m losing my self of identity”

Mat is rendered speechless, he’s not sure what to say so he asks “Well What do we do now?”

You shrug “I don’t know, I’m going to put the kids to bed”

A little over an hour later you reappear at the kitchen door and he’s sitting with his hands grasping his hair waiting for you. When he hears you his head shoots up to look at you, eyes falling on the bag in your hand.

“Where are You going?”

You shake your head “Not me, you. I think it’s best if you find somewhere else to live for a little while Mat, give us some space”

“You don’t mean that, we can talk about this” he is almost begging and you.

You drop the bag on the floor and sigh “Please Mat, don’t make this harder than it needs to be”

“It should be hard! We need to fight for our marriage y/n”

“No, Mathew we don’t. Text me your training schedule for the next week and we can sort something out with the kids, Wyatt won’t be able to stay over night because she’s breastfeeding but the rest of them are fine”

Mat doesn’t know what to say, he’s at a loss for words this wasn’t angry words you were saying you were calm, collected and thinking this all through.

He was standing right in front of you. His fingers ghosted over your cheeks and he could feel your tears.

“Baby-“

“Please” you whispered “Please just go, I can’t do this”

So he did, and it hurt him so much to go but if that’s what you wanted he would do it. He went into the kids rooms and kissed them all goodnight before he left, residing at an Airbnb that he managed to find on such short notice.

he spent the entire night awake, looking through your Facebook at your wedding photos, you babies pictures all through tears he watched as his family slowly slipped further away from him and he wasn’t sure he could get a grasp on them again.

[canirove]

My neighbour Rúben | Chapter 2

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Masterlist

His name was Rúben. But not Rubén with the accent mark on the e, no. His name had it on the u. And I learnt about it by making a fool of myself. As usual.

I had been working for Lucy for a month, doing it more as a nanny than just a piano teacher. Each day I would pick Julia up from school, take her home, practice for a while, eat something, and play with her until Lucy was back. Some days I would even have dinner with her and put her to bed. It all depended on her mum's schedule.

We were eating some cookies to celebrate that Julia had received a medal at school for winning a race, when someone rang the bell.

"Who is it?" Julia asked.

"I don't know. We aren't expecting anyone and your mum isn't coming until dinner time" I said, getting up from my chair and walking towards the door. When I opened it, there he was. My Chris Evans. He was the last person I was expecting to see.

"Hello again" he said with a big smile.

"Hi" I muttered, already feeling my brain starting to shut down, my jaw slowly falling to the floor.

"Is Lucy home?"

"Rúben!" Julia screamed, jumping at his arms.

"Hello, Julia" he said, picking her up as if she weighed nothing. "What is that?"

"It is a medal! I won a race at school today."

"Congratulations! High five" he said, lifting a huge hand. Julia's next to it was tiny, but I even mine would have looked small. "Is your mum home?"

"Mami is still at work."

"Oh, I see. Is she your nanny?" he said, nodding towards me.

"She teaches me piano but also stays with me if mami has to work. She's my guardian angel."

"Lucky you" Ruben smiled. "I think I'm gonna need one too, because I forgot my keys. Again."

"Oh, silly Rúben" she giggled. 

"Julia, I think you are saying his name wrong. Shouldn't it be Rubén with the accent on the e?" I asked, my brain deciding to work again. It had been too busy looking at that gorgeous man being all cute with her.

"That's on Spanish. I'm Portuguese."

"Oh." That's all I was able to say. Oh. I had tried to look intelligent like, look at me, I know languages. But I ended up making a fool of myself in front of him. Again. 

"It's ok, don't worry. The same happened to Lucy the first time" he said with a charming smile. "Are you also from Spain?" 

"What?" I said. My brain had frozen again after that smile, not being able to process anything else. 

"I asked if you also are from Spain. Like Lucy."

Dear God. He must have thought I was an idiot after having to repeat things twice for me to get them. 

"Oh, no. No, no, no. No." Too many no? Definitely. "I'm from here. Not from Manchester. From London. But from here. England." 

"I figured. You don't have their accent." How was he able to tell, when I had only been able to properly say three words in front of him, still remains a mystery. "Anyway, do you think you could give me the spare key Lucy keeps for me? It's on that drawer over there" he said, putting Julia down. 

"Sure" I replied, moving to pick it. "I guess it is this one? It has your name on it. And with the accent on the u."

"That's the one. I would have asked Roger for his copy, but he was busy."

"No problem" I said while handing him the key, our fingers slightly touching but being enough to make my cheeks feel very warm.

"I guess I'll be seeing you around if you are now Julia's teacher."

"Yep."

"I live on apartment A, so if you ever need anything..." 

I think that my answer was a nod. Or something like that. My brain was, once again, too busy thinking about other things. Like about something I needed and that he could give me. While being naked. Both of us. On his bed. Or his sofa. Or even the floor, to be honest. 

"See you around, neighbours."

"Bye!" Julia replied, closing the door. "Angel, are you ok?"

"Uh?" 

"You look... Weird. Did you not like Rúben?"

"Oh, no. I did." I liked him very much, Julia. Very, very much. "I was just thinking about our cookies. Should we leave one for when your mum comes back from work?"

"Yes!" she said, running towards the kitchen while I just took a big breath, trying to forget about the thoughts going through my mind. And I managed to do it. Though only until I fell asleep that night, when I started having the most pornographic dreams of my life with the hot Portuguese neighbour. With Rúben.

[finchesslingshott]

me and @coffeeistired went on a whole rant together about modern!finch + modern!race and their bestie lore so here you go enjoy

they met each other in an adoption centre and when they went to the same middle school and found each other in class (my brain says like 6th grade when they met) they both got so excited (race/finch creds)

they were practically attached at the hip all through middle and high school, but they had a phase right after they graduated where they both got rlly busy and drifted apart and panicked and finch called race at like two a.m. in tears one night and was like "WE'RE STILL BEST FRIENDS RIGHT YOU DONT HATE ME???" (finch creds)

race reassured him, they had a good talk, and fell asleep on call together (finch creds)

THEY MET UP THE NEXT DAY AT BAR AND FINCH’S DUMB ASS CRASHED ON THE DRIVE HOME 😒 (he has never been able to live this down) (race creds)

finch and buttons were alr dating by then and buttons found finch waiting in the hospital (race broke his arm or smth) and smacked finch upside the head then kissed him (finch creds)

Race used to jokingly guilt trips Finch over that….”what do you meannn ya don’t wanna go to the pet shelter with me? Ya broke my arm! I’m trying to cheer myself up, I don’t wannna go aloneeee :(“ but he stopped after a month or two after he realized Finch might geuninely feel bad (race creds)

and finch did feel bad. immensely. finch literally wouldnt even touch a bottle of beer or smth for literal months and cried so many times over it, he was so scared to lose his and race's friendship because it meant the entire world and then some to him (finch creds)

Right now, Modern!Race is in collage to be an aerospace engineer, he has an internship at a space station(which is how he makes a good portion of his money- using that to pay off collage) and he’s an assistant teacher for the local middle/elmentray school’s special education program, he goes down once or twice a week. He doesn’t tell people his job because he thinks they won’t beilve him since he’s…”too dumb” (race creds)

a lot of race's little students he helps out with take piano lessons (some take voice and/or dance) from finch and finch reports to race what they say about him (finch creds)

BONUS —

in my mind finch is the shortest and he and buttons take the crud out of finch for being small (a mere 5'6") (finch creds)

"we shoulda nicknamed you smalls instead of finch-" "SHUT YOUR MOUTH." (finch creds)

Race has no room to talk he’s short too/J (5’7 1/2) (race creds)

"RACE YOURE AN INCH AND A HALF TALLER THAN ME SHUT YOUR TRAP" “I CANT HEAR YOU FROM DOWN THERE” "I HATE YOU" (finch/race creds)

Meanwhile, Buttons grinning evilly in the background with his 1/2 an inch over Race (buttons creds @thegreatbuttoneer)

"BUTTONS BABY I LOVE YOU BUT NO ONE ASKED ALR???" "youre just mad you have to get on tiptoe to kiss me" "i'm divorcing you" "WE ARENT EVEN MARRIED YET FINCH" (finch creds)

anyways i'm back in my own house so expect a lot of random drabble as we continue the binch revolution, love you guys <333

[where-are-the-spooky-gays-2]

they meet up for lunch, in one of the dozens of little mostly-private alcoves at school (neither of them can be bothered to go further than the cafeteria to get food). Virgil splits his brownie with Remus, and Remus lets him steal fries.

"would you still love me if i was a worm" Remus asks, leaning into its boyfriend, and Virgil snorts, shoving it off his shoulder.

"don’t think we’d’ve met if you were a worm, Re."

"but if I turned into one, like right now."

Virgil thinks, and then something crosses his mind.

"Is today a ‘turning into a worm’ day?" Remus has those, sometimes, where she feels like her body is corrupting into something inhuman. it makes lu floaty and gives ly a headache, some days. some days are dragon days, where he feels like he’s better than everyone else, on top of the world. those days are okay, but still not as nice as xer human days.

"nah," Remus says, leaning back into Virgil, knocking xer green chucks into Virgil’s combat boots, "my skin fits okay today. jus’ wondering."

"okay," Virgil says, "then probably? as long as I knew it was you. I wouldn’t keep you though. I’d put you in the soil, so you could be a happy worm."

"what if I was like. a worm on a string. but alive." Remus leans over further, and twists so it’s lying with its head in Virgil’s lap.

"new pet." Virgil says, grinning down at em.

"I thought you were my pet," Remus pouts, lifting ver arm to hook ver fingers into Virgil’s spiked choker.

"not at school I’m not," Virgil says, pulling Remus’s hand of his neck and intertwining their fingers.

"no? not even if we went to that little janitor’s closet like last week? or an empty music room, like in Heartstopper?"

"I’m not making out with you in a closet again, that shit was uncomfortable. practice room… maybe. if it gets you to actually practice your percussion."

"hey, I practice," Remus says, fake-offended.

"you practice snare drum and bass drum and that’s it. I bet you don’t even know how to read music."

"like you do???"

"a) don’t shame me for being an art kid. b) I played piano for three years!!!"

"and you don’t remember any of it," Remus says, smugly, squeezing Virgil’s hand.

"and I don’t remember any of it," Virgil laughs, carding his other hand through Remus’s hair. Remus melts under the attention, the sqabble forgotten.

"really though," they say, eyes closed, "I could get a practice room for us. today, even. those jeans make you look even hotter, gotta get me a piece ‘a that."

"or we could just—" Virgil folds over, making Remus reach up into the kiss. they break apart, and Remus quickly sits up and rearranges aerself to sit in Virgil’s lap properly. ae cups Virgil’s face in aer hands and kisses him soft and quick. there’s no one around, not within view of them, anyways. they can make out for a couple minutes before heading to next period. they can be seventeen and stupid.

"you’re pretty," Virgil murmurs, knocking their foreheads together.

"you’re prettier," Remus counters, kissing him again, "we should do this a whole lot more."

"yeah," Virgil says—well, mumbles, really. it’s hard to talk with Remus’s lips so close to his. "maybe not at school though."

"not our best idea," Remus agrees, and then kisses Virgil harder, pushing him back against the wall.

"not fair," Virgil complains, when he gets a chance to breathe. "you can’t acknowledge that this is a terrible idea and then keep doing it, that’s not allowed."

"this is a very good idea then," Remus says, kissing Virgil with nok mouth open, knocking ny teeth against his, messy and perfect. and, well, obviously Virgil has to retaliate, so he tangles his fingers in the back of Remus’s mullet and kisses her with tongue.

from there it doesn’t turn quite as filthy as Remus would like, they are still at school after all, but it’s something that Remus would be very happy to continue in Virgil’s bedroom later.

the lunch-end bell rings, and they pull apart, flushed and mussed up. they scramble to clean up the remainder of their food, and split apart, Virgil to English and Remus to math.

(Remus kisses Virgil one last time, on the cheek. they’ll see each other for last period, but until then, parting is such sweet sorrow)

Gay people <3

[agaypanic]

Heyy can i request a reese wilkerson imagine? making out 😓

Caught (Reese Wilkerson X Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Reese and Y/n get caught making out.

A/N: i love how the emoji makes it seem like anon is stressed about them making out lol also i got stressed about them making out bc writing kissing scenes are hard

***

When Reese invited you to come over, you didn’t think much of it. You two hung out at his house all the time, usually helping him with schoolwork at Lois’ request or eating something he made while watching a show. But you started to realize that he might have had secret motives as you got closer to the Wilkerson house. Reaching the yard, you saw that neither Lois nor Hal were home because the driveway was empty.

“Home sweet home.” Reese sighed contently as he opened the door for you, closing it as you dropped your bag off and went to the kitchen for something to snack on.

“Where is everyone?” You asked, noting the unusual silence in the house. Malcolm usually walked home with you two or was right behind you. And Dewey should have been home because the middle school got out before the high school. But it seemed that you and Reese were the only ones here.

“Looks like it’s just us, Babe.” You could feel the smirk on Reese’s face as he came up behind you, wrapping his arms around you.

“Did you plan this or something?” You turned around in his hold to face him, not really surprised at the thought of him getting his brothers to stay out of the house for a few hours for some alone time. But what did surprise you was instead of him responding, Reese leaned forward to kiss you.

The kiss quickly turned heated. Reese gripped your hips, pushing you against the fridge. Some of the shitty magnets fell off the refrigerator as you ran your fingers through his hair, pulling at the hairs at the nape of his neck. He moaned into your mouth at the feeling, sliding a hand up to cup your cheek.

“Bedroom?” He barely parted from you to speak, going straight back into kissing you. You nodded, realizing that it probably wasn’t best to make out with your boyfriend in the middle of his kitchen.

“Bedroom.” You confirmed, and Reese pulled away to drag you to his room. You giggled at his eagerness, quickly being cut off by his lips on yours again once you got to the door. With one hand on your waist to guide you, he used his free hand to push the door to his room open. He pulled you in, shutting the door with his foot before pushing you against it.

“Thank God no one’s home.” You sighed as Reese parted his lips from yours to start kissing your neck.

“I get you all to myself.” You could feel his smirk on your skin before he started to leave what would soon be dark hickies on you.

“You guys are disgusting.” The sudden monotone voice startled the two of you. You jumped apart before the person could see anything else.

“Dewey, what the hell are you doing here? I thought you had piano practice!” Reese yelled at his younger brother, who stared at the two of you unamusedly. It looked like he had come out from the bathroom connected to the boys’ room, which was why you two didn’t seem to notice him.

“That’s on Wednesdays,” Dewey said nonchalantly, grabbing a random magazine on one of the desks before jumping to sit on his bed.

“Oh my god.” You muttered, leaning your head back against the door. Your boyfriend’s younger brother catching you two making out was embarrassing enough. But the fact that he acted like it was nothing somehow made it worse.

“Dewey, get out,” Reese demanded, staring holes into the back of his head.

“Reese, it’s fine; we can just watch a movie or something.” You said, trying to ease the tension. “I’m honestly not in the mood anymore.”

Reese turned to you, somewhat sad from what you said. You gulped, looking at him. His hair was disheveled, his cheeks were a bright pink, and his lips seemed bruised, all from your previous activities.

“Dewey, get out.” You said, still staring at Reese, who started to smile.

“But-”

“I’ll give you ten bucks; just go anywhere else that’s not here.”

[sepdet]

Have you SEEN the original moon landing feed, especially the scary bit near the end?

Now stay with me. I grew up hearing about these few minutes from my parents (in fact I took the TV they watched it on to grad school; DS9 and Babylon5 worked well in b&w).

This is even crazier than it looks like.

My parents were both scientists, my grandmother a planetarium director, and my dad was just about to land his job at a rocket company that built 95 small rockets that were part of the UpGoer Saturn V. (Yeah. Just the small ones. Saturn V was a BEAST.)

So my parents had a fair idea how dangerous this was, how Neil going manual was a bad sign, and just how close he was to running empty and crashing. They knew the problem that every ounce of fuel you carry requires even more fuel to lift off, so the Eagle was built light, carrying no excess weight even in fuel (it had to lift off the Moon with no rocket, after all).

But they didn't learn until years later just how jury-rigged and bespoke Apollo technology was. Every vehicle and part was designed like a Mythbusters build: extremely customized for the procedures it had to accomplish, using parts and even technology invented for specific mission tasks.

rope memory, predecessor to modern silicon chips: 1s and 0s woven by women (of course) at a Massachusetts textile plant

At the time, computers were the size of rooms and very touchy. Apollo's computer memory was core rope memory, never used before or since, to save space. The read/write guidance computer, too, was woven: physical media could better survive the rigors of space travel. (I suspect even my parents don't know it also used some of the very first integrated circuits, soldered by hand under a microscope by Navajo women).

Spacesuits were (and still are) designed and hand-stitched by Playtex bramakers. The lunar rovers' wheels were titanium meshes woven with piano wire to let dust through, and even had a clever navigation system despite no GPS or magnetic north.

They couldn't test these rigs with computer modeling. They didn't know for sure what the moon's surface would be like, apart from basic parameters like low gravity and near vacuum and a temperature ranging from 250°F in the sun to -250° in the shade. And it was nearly impossible to test for or practice in those conditions on Earth.

And then there were the unknowns. A massive solar flare between Apollo 16 and 17 might have killed or sickened them too much to operate their ship.

While the spacesuit and to some extent the rover design carried on, a lot of these hacks were so unusual that they might as well be alien tech. (I'm sorry woven technology fell out of vogue for several decades.) That goes some way towards explaining why humans haven't left Earth orbit since I was two.

The other problem, of course, is expense. Tech for human space exploration requires as much R&D and testing as fighter planes, which have developed through a century of multiple countries' military budgets. Human space programs are lucky to last two presidents; the next president usually doesn't think giving glory to his predecessor is a good use of money.

So for 40 years, NASA has mostly worked with other countries on human spaceflight or built robot explorers that can be launched in 3-4 years before Congress or the president can axe the program. They're less likely to shut down a mission when 99.99% of the money's been spent, and all that's left to do is download data and uplink occasional instructions.

TL:DR; Congress and the White House keep flashing the equivalent of that computer error message, every time NASA gets ready to send humans into space again. Overload. Abort mission.

Unless, you know, American citizens start saying Go. Go. Go. Go. We have some pretty important priorities down here on Earth (which Amazon and Disney and oil companies should be footing the bill for, though they try not to), but I bet the military can cough up the cost of a few fighter jets.

[notsocheezy]

Brain Curd #128 - Twenty-Minute Tuesday #14

Brain Curds are lightly edited flash fiction - practically first drafts - posted daily (haven't missed one yet!) and sometimes written with the express intention of being terrible… but, you know, in an endearing way. Please like and reblog if you enjoy - the notes keep me going!

I said it was getting easier, but I suppose I lied. Nothing could make it any easier, seeing you drift away into the currents, sitting powerless on the beach covered in sweat and sand and flakes of dry kelp. A sand flea jumps onto my legs and I brush it off. I want to see you for as long as I can. But my glasses are smudged and you are far away. I take a handful of sand and it is warm like you were. We never had a chance.

You float over the horizon. Gone. I let the tears out now, but I stifle my sobbing. This is not my beach. I don’t belong here. I will not sour this day for anyone else. I wipe away what I can with the back of my wrist - I don’t want sand in my eyes, don’t want this beach to become a part of me. I don’t want this to be my life, staring at sand and saltwater searching for you in everything I see, wishing you were here.

But oh, I already do. And for so long I already have. I have seen you in every flower, every painting, every note on my piano or my guitar, and there is no rest for the woozy when I take another hit to sleep. I’m off-beat, off-rhythm, off-gassing, decaying, and why is that when I am the one who’s still here?

Rip me apart like one of your French crullers, consume me, I want to be part of you; if you are gone then I am, too. The stream bends from my consciousness and I drift off from your memory, laughing at the tragedies on TV until this waking presence escapes me and I forget for a moment what I am: pathetic; the one who wanted to save the world and failed to save you.

[bi-lavelent]

Lone Wolf (Quinn Fabray x Fem-Reader part 7)

Warning: Fluff, Angst, Cussing, Bullying, Smut

We were all sat in the auditorium. Everybody except for me was watching Sue and Mr.Schue fight. I needed to talk to Sue after practice she needed to take the glee club down and I was ready to help. You see since the other day Quinn still has not talked to me. I overheard that she giving the baby to Terry. This highschool had never been this dramatic til now. It may or may have not also been the fact that I haven’t gotten layed recently. With glee I didn’t have time to go Cruising lately so I had to stay on home turf. Which wouldn’t had been an issue my freshman year when I was I had more confidence or any of the other years when there was ladies willing to do a little lady on top of lady stuff. But instead I’ve had to use my message gun and my fingers. It’s not the same I understand why Sue is always angry. I have gone full out against the glee club not only due to me not having friends except for the freshman. I’ve got nothing Santana won’t even flirt with me anymore. Which she started freshman year before all this Glee club shit. Sue had decided to turn the minorities against the others. As the meeting ended I ran up to Sue

“Hay sue” I said

“Yes Y/N” Sue said

“Can we talk in you office” I asked

“Sure” Sue said

As we both walked to her office together

“I can help you destroy Glee club. But you have to promise me two things one you won’t get kick Quinn off the Cheerios and two you’ll protect me if they come after me.” I said

“What do you got?” Sue asked

“I got things that will tear each of them apart. I’m tired of them bashing kids with special needs.” I told her.

The next day, I was sitting in the choir room as everybody entered. As Sue called out the names for her special club. Called Sues Special kids

“K just take the football players and your Cheerios” Mr.Schue said

“K when you hear your name cross over to my side of the black shiny thing.” Sue said

“That’s called the piano Sue.” Schue said

“Santana, Wheels, Gay kid, Asian, other Asian, Arthea, Shaft and Y/n” Sue said

As I was sitting in the glee room waiting for sue Santana came in.

“Hey” I said

“Don’t talk to me” Santana said

“Look I know we were never friends. But we at-least talked. We were becoming friends.” I said

“Okay than what’s going on with you and Puck.” She said

“Nothings going on I’m not flirting with him I’m mad at him. He got Quinn kicked off the Cheerios cause he blabbed to coach Sue about her pregnancy.” I said

“Why would he care? Why would either of you care?” she asked

“Because Finn isn’t the father he is she felt shitty about herself and he got her extremely drunk and took advantage of her. Oh yeah all of this was while you two were together.” I said

“Okay that does not answer why you’re helping Quinn.” She said

“What I’m about to tell you only two people in this school know. Sue and Quinn and know you. Freshman year I went worlds on the schools boxing team I was dating a Lacrosse, football player who was a senior. I got pregnant 6 months before school ended. The dad left for college I have never seen him since I then had the baby all alone no one was there for me. Because I had pushed everyone I cared about away. My daughter lives on a farm in Kansas. It was an open adoption so she can find me when she turns 18. But that’s why helping Quinn I was Quinn. I was popular I wasn’t a cheerleader I’m not hot or sexy enough to be one. But I was popular I lost everything so since Puck told Sue I’ve been trying everything to save Quinn’s reputation at this school. I even agreed to help you guys destroy Glee club. I care okay.” I said

“Wait that’s actually really nice.” Santana said “Wait do you think I’m hot?”

“Maybe I guess you will never know” I said

“Look When Sue told me to take glee club down. She also said that if I needed to get credit for a source to take you guys down too.” I said

“Of course she did” she said

“I really like you guys, you’re nice to my sister. I’m glad she has you guys as friends.” I said

“Thanks your not to bad yourself and hey I won’t get offended when you come at us. You’re actually kinda nice. This doesn't make us friends though” She said

“Oh trust me we will be friends one day.” I said

“Okay when pigs fly.” She said

As everyone else came in including sue went to sit next to each other she sprawled out on two chairs her head was on my feet as I was also sprawled out on two chairs.

Me and Santana sat up and danced together and sang along to song that Sue had chosen. What apparently connected to us being minorities.

The next day in glee we all were sat in there singing rid with me

Where they at? Where they at? Where they at? Where they at? Where they at? Where they at? Where they at? Where they at? (Come on, now)

If you want to go and take a ride with me We 3-wheeling in the fo' with the gold D's Oh, why do I live this way? (Hey, must be the money) If you wanna go and get high with me Smoke a L in the back of the Benz-E Oh, why must I feel this way? (Hey, must be the money)

In the club on the late night, feeling right Looking, trying to spot something real nice Looking for a little shorty I noticed so that I can take home (I can take home) She can be 18 (18) with an attitude Or 19, kinda snotty, acting real rude But as long as you a thicky-thicky-thick girl You know that it's on (you know that it's on)

I peep something coming towards me on the dance floor Sexy and real slow Saying she was peeping and I dig the last video "So when Nelly, can we go?" How could I tell her no? Her measurements were 36-25-34 "I like the way you brush your hair And I like those stylish clothes you wear I like the way the light hit the ice and glare And I can see you, boo, from way over there"

If you want to go and take a ride with me We 3-wheeling in the fo' with the gold D's Oh, why do I live this way? (Hey, must be the money) If you wanna go and get high with me Smoke a L in the back of the Benz-E Oh, why must I feel this way? (Hey, must be the money)

Face and body Frontenac, don't know how to act Without no vouchers on her boots she's bringing nothing back You should feel the impact, shop on plastic When the sky's the limit and them haters can't get past that Watch me as I gas that 4 dot 6 Range Watch the candy paint change, every time I switch lanes It feel strange now Making a living off my brain, instead of 'caine now I got the title from my momma, put the whip in my own name now Damn, shit done changed now Running credit checks with no shame now I feel the fame now (come on), I can't complain now (no more) Shit, I'm the mayne now, in and out my own town I'm getting pages out of New Jersey from Courtney B Telling me about a party up in NYC And can I make it? Damn right, I be on the next flight Paying cash, first class, sitting next to Vanna White, c'mon

If you want to go and take a ride with me We 3-wheeling in the fo' with the gold D's Oh, why do I live this way? (Hey, must be the money) If you wanna go and get high with me Smoke a L in the back of the Benz-E Oh, why must I feel this way? (Hey, must be the money)

If you want to go and take a ride with me We 3-wheeling in the fo' with the gold D's Oh, why do I live this way? (Hey, must be the money) If you wanna go and get high with me Smoke a L in the back of the Benz-E Oh, why must I feel this way? (Hey, must be the money)

Check, check, yo, I know something you don't know And I've got something to tell ya You won't believe how many people straight doubted the flow Most said that I was a failure But now the same motherfuckers asking me for dough And I'm yelling, "I can't help ya" "But Nelly can we get tickets to the next show?" Hell no (what's witchyou?), you for real?

Hey yo, now that I'm a fly guy, and I fly high Niggas want to know why, why I fly by But yo, it's all good, Range Rover all wood Do me like you should, fuck me good, suck me good We be them stud niggas, 'wishing you was' niggas Popping like we drug dealers, sipping Crissy, bubb' macking Honey in the club, me in the Benz Icy grip, telling me to leave with you and your friends

So if shorty wanna knock, we knocking to this And if shorty wanna rock, we rocking to this And if shorty wanna pop, we popping the Crist' Shorty wanna see the ice, then I ice the wrist City talk, Nelly listen, Nelly talk, city listen When I fuck fly bitches, when I walk pay attention See the ice and the glist', niggas staring, know they diss Honies looking all "They wish, " come on boo, gimme kiss, c'mon

If you want to go and take a ride with me We 3-wheeling in the fo' with the gold D's Oh, why do I live this way? (Hey, must be the money) If you wanna go and get high with me Smoke a L in the back of the Benz-E Oh, why must I feel this way? (Hey, must be the money)

If you want to go and take a ride with me We 3-wheeling in the fo' with the gold D's Oh, why do I live this way? (Hey, must be the money) If you wanna go and get high with me Smoke a L in the back of the Benz-E Oh, why must I feel this way? (Hey, must be the money)

Hey, must be the money Hey, must be the money Hey, must be the money Must be the money

If you want to go and take a ride with me We 3-wheeling in the fo' with the gold D's Oh, why do I live this way? (Hey, must be the money) If you wanna go and get high with me Smoke a L in the back of the Benz-E Oh, why must I feel this-

After the song ended

Rachel said “I miss us all being together”

“I hope we don’t get in trouble for our covert jam session” Artie said

we all laughed

“If sue catches us mingling we’re cooked. She told me if I even talked to one of Mr.Schues kid that she would shave my head and I just can’t rock that look. Even Justin Timberlake is growing his frow back.” Kurt said

“Well we gotta go you guys Mrs.Sylvester is expecting us in ten minutes. In the dance studio.” Mercedes said

I started to walk down and waited for Santana to finish her hug with Brittnay.

we all said bye and left

“Bye white people” Artie said

“hey what are you guys doing here” Mr.Schue said

“oh we’re just stopping bye to say hello.” Tina said

“Hey at-least I still get you Freshman” I said after we had left

“Hey what minority are you?” Matt asked

“yeah” everyone said

“I’ll tell you guys just not right now okay. Let’s go get to Sue before she yells at us for being late.” I said

I wrapped my arms around Mercedes and Kurt shoulders as we walked to the classroom.

Two days later in glee club. We all got sat down after Mr.Schue

“You’ll all minorities cause your in the glee club now there’s only 14 of you so it doesn’t matter that Rachel is Jewish or that Finn is” Mr.schue said

“unable to tell my rights from my lefts” Finn said

we all laugh

“or that Santana is Latina or that Quinn is” Mr. Schue says

“pregnant” Sue said

“Sorry Q it will be all over the blogosphere this afternoon. Now everybody knows. Including me.” Sue said

I meet Jacob leaving school. “Jacob no I don’t care what Sue made you do. I told you not to run that story. Hell Rachael even gave you her underwear. I gave you everything you wanted. One day you’re going to have to realize that the things you write can destroy peoples lives. Your not a journalists Jacob you’re a nerd who’s a bully. You just ruined Quinn’s life and she needs friends right now so I’m not gonna hurt you. But if you ever come after someone in Glee again and destroy their life I will burn your house down and kill you. Do you understand me.” I asked

“yes can I go know” he asked running off

[fuckmeyer]

I’m certain this is over 500 words but I am dying to hear more about all of this. I genuinely tried to cut but I could not make up my mind - silk tie anon (still workshopping the name here, not sure I want to be know for Edward’s clothing/buns all that bad):

Edward had threaded one hand through my hair and was mindlessly curling strands around his finger, sweeping them off my shoulder, bringing them to his lips. My nails traced mindless patterns on his other hand wrapped around my waist.

The intimacy and burn of his fingers on my skin made me remember with striking emotion how much I missed him touching me, how starved I was.

We breathed in unison. Every other moment, a faint static would pulse down my body. At first, I thought it was him flinching, but it was rhythmic and soft. Like was responding to me. Like our bodies were syncing up. In a good way.

I sighed. “I wish it could be like this all the time.”

He caught my hand in his and brought the back of it to his lips.

“Em’s obsessed with carbon-neutral cabins now,” said Edward. “I should ask him to build us one.”

I could practically hear the smile on him.

Usually, I would balk and respond along the lines of No way, Jose.

Cactus Bella would’ve, anyway.

“That’d be nice,” I said. Edward hmm’d in response, just as surprised by my reaction as I was. “We could watch the sunset every night. It’d have to have a tiny art studio, though. With a view.”

“Yes. Art studio in the attic, recording studio in the basement.”

“And a library.”

“The rest of the house is a library. Every room has at least one floor-to-ceiling bookshelf.”

“And we could decorate and hang up pictures. And we’d never pay rent.”

“And I would make tea for you every morning and dinner for you every night. We would stay there for weeks at a time.”

“Months.”

“Years.”

“Forever.”

“Forever,” he echoed. It sounded off.

The sun dropped into the horizon.

“Twilight, again,” I remembered him saying at prom. “No matter how perfect the day is, it always has to end….”

At prom, it had sounded romantic.

Here, it haunted me.

We didn’t speak. Only dying birdsongs and classical music filled the silence.

Before he could wallow in his forever comment, I asked, “So what's on the menu for tonight?” gesturing with my head to the tiny stereo. “Wagner, to celebrate my being done reading that freak Nietzsche?”

“Hah hah. As if this was remotely Wagnerian.” For a moment he tensed underneath me; his faltering chuckle returned. “I was wondering when you’d say something. What do you think?”

It was the smoothest-sounding music I’d ever heard—that’s what I thought. Every note was correct and on key and on beat and every instrument played with exact preciseness. It felt more like the whole song was just one fluid, resonating harmonic note to the next. A dream. A fantasy.

What set it apart were the colors. They jumped off the track. Purples and orangey-yellows, mostly, but the piano sounded like the greenest grass Forks had ever grown.

“Unedited thoughts only,” he warned me.

“You know what it reminds me of?” I said, patting his knee. “Debussy. With a little Emile Pandolfi zhuzh to it. Or like if Rachmaninov woke up one day and decided to write something a little more understated.”

“Classical influences with modern touches.”

“Exactly.”

“Dramatic?”

“In good way. Y’know? Not so cloying and loud.”

“Calmer.”

“Yeah. Less struggle. If that makes sense.”

“Interesting.” He tried keeping an even face but his eyes lit up. He nuzzled his face into my collar. “But the real question: do you like it?”

“Hell yeah. That’s my biased opinion. You know I like your recs.”

“Except Bobby Vinton.”

“Fifties trash,” I said with a dismissive shrug, “what can you say?”

“I’d say your taste in men is better than your taste in music, and that’s not saying much.”

His voice was jovial—and false.

—No, not false.

Shaken with a sheepish nervousness. Embarrassment?

I laid back against his chest. Puzzle pieces assembled in my head, so loud and clear I would assume he could hear me coming to my conclusions.

Edward was nervous.

All night, he’d been nervous.

The good kind of nervous.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll bite. Tell me.”

Laying against him, I could feel excitement coursing through him.

“Hm?”

“There’s a speech you’re not telling me,” I said. Edward broke into a smile but looked down so I wouldn’t see it. The anticipation he carried with him felt like live wires on my skin. “You’re dying to say it. Mhm. Something overwrought. Or some super nerdy, esoteric lecture, I bet. Yeah. The blues speech. The classical music. There’s a theme going on here.” He laughed. “Tell me. Who’s this dead guy and why do I care?”

“The tongue on you.” His lips kissed my temple, tickled the shell of my ear when he spoke. “That dead guy is me, thank you very much.”

“Huh?” I whipped around to face him with an open-mouthed smile. “No way.”

“Yes, way. Wrote and performed.”

“This? Really? You wrote this? Really?” As I talked, I moved to straddle him, my hands on his shoulders, the side of his neck. Brassy golds and jewel-toned purples swirled through the music drifting between us. “That’s so cool!”

This, like everything else about Edward, seemed otherworldly in its grace and beauty. It felt like listening to the future of music—refined to an even higher degree of perfection.

Of course this was his.

“Is it so hard to believe?”

Now my hands played nervously with the locks of his hair that sat at the nape of his neck. “No, it’s just, you said you hadn't written anything since the 70s, and the colors are just—I mean it’s perfect, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but, just—wow."

"Eloquent as always."

"This is amazing work. Wow!” It felt like I radiated so much joy, my cheeks burned. “Congratulations, oh my god. It’s great. It’s brilliant. I take back all the ‘dead guy, don’t care’ stuff. Lecture me up.”

“You assume I have more to say?”

I snickered, raking my hand through his hair and pulling on it. He purred. “Six words? You? Please,” I said, and he laughed. “What d’you got for me? Historical context? Music theory? Behind-the-scenes anecdote? You gotta unedit, y’know.”

Getting Edward to share any of his compositions had been, up until now, impossible. He had informed me several times he hadn’t written anything since the 1970s. Any time I’d ask, he’d just come up with some medley of songs by others, or he’d improvise.

“It’s a lullaby.” Beat. “Your lullaby.” Another beat. “I wrote it for you.”

I blinked. Stilled.

“For me?” My hand fell back to his chest, leaving his hair a wild, sculpted mess. Edward watched my face fall and eyes drift toward the speaker; his brows knit. “A lullaby? For me?”

Edward laughed, nervous, and pressed a button on the stereo.

"Happy birthday," he murmured to me.

Instruments jumped into that first note, springing to life with a harmonized breathlessness that reminded me of sky blue, lavender, spots of gold, and brown. An overwhelming, bright, vibrant first measure calmed into a languid, inquisitive piano.

Oftentimes, a song would have competing colors, for better or for worse. Anything I wanted to paint would require several relistenings and a full-on moodboard before the oil would ever hit the canvas.

Art supplies were expensive—you had to be sure of your vision.

But this. This was gorgeous. Like it had been written with the intention of being ready for the canvas.

For me.

“It’s been in my mind for a while now. At first, they were just bits of melodies you’ve given me from our time together. The happy, sunny times.”

“Like a tapestry of little memories?” I joked, voice thick with emotion.

“In the middle of the night, if you start tossing, I hum it to you. I think you like it. It calms you down.” He grinned. “You stop trying to kick me, anyway.”

“Which memories did you use?”

“G-minor, when you first spoke to me—that was the first measure. The first night I stayed over. Picking wild blackberries for you on the way to the meadow. And— Do you remember the second time we took the truck to that forest a couple miles north of Goat Rocks?” I frowned. “In July? We played Nickel Nock in the truckbed? You were asking about the—"

“Fireflies,” we finished in unison. I laughed. “Duh!” I told him it’d been the first time I’d seen one in person. Edward turned off the lamp and caught one for me in his hands just so I could see it up close. I smiled wide. “The little chimes in background. Is that them? The fireflies?”

“Perceptive.”

Tears threatened to spill over; I wiped one away from the corner with my thumb.

hey Silk Buns anon, you can choose your own nickname as far as i'm concerned. i love you

COME NIGHTFALL CHAPTER 3: DATE - DVD COMMENTARY

[i haven't read this chapter since i posted it lmao OOP-]

Edward had threaded one hand through my hair and was mindlessly curling strands around his finger, sweeping them off my shoulder, bringing them to his lips. My nails traced mindless patterns on his other hand wrapped around my waist.

The intimacy and burn of his fingers on my skin made me remember with striking emotion how much I missed him touching me, how starved I was.

We breathed in unison [ok but fr breathing in unison w/ ur partner is relaxing as fuck]. Every other moment, a faint static would pulse down my body. At first, I thought it was him flinching, but it was rhythmic and soft. Like was responding to me. Like our bodies were syncing up. In a good way.

[it's wild how many hints i dropped about the mating bond. i was resolved to put it in the fic because it was an unexplored part of smeyer's lore & an interesting creative challenge (much like imprinting, although that's more about fixing mistakes than fleshing out a concept). but i didn't have the mechanics of mating hammered out at all. details like this are fun to come back to because they ended up fitting perfectly.]

I sighed. “I wish it could be like this all the time.”

He caught my hand in his and brought the back of it to his lips.

“Em’s obsessed with carbon-neutral cabins now,” said Edward. “I should ask him to build us one.” [something something By Starlight Chapter 9: Envoy]

I could practically hear the smile on him.

Usually, I would balk and respond along the lines of No way, Jose.

Cactus Bella would’ve, anyway. [Cactus Bella should have come back]

“That’d be nice,” I said. Edward hmm’d in response, just as surprised by my reaction as I was. “We could watch the sunset every night. It’d have to have a tiny art studio, though. With a view.” [this would be in the attic]

“Yes. Art studio in the attic [HEY!!!!], recording studio in the basement.”

“And a library.” [i picture them having a tiny cabin with a loft, lots of plants, artwork, cozy chairs, one of those little roller ladders for their library, & tons of windows that overlook the forest below. i'm projecting my own desires btw]

“The rest of the house is a library. Every room has at least one floor-to-ceiling bookshelf.” [get you a fanfic Edward Cullen who says "YES, AND"!!!]

“And we could decorate and hang up pictures. And we’d never pay rent.” [i can't imagine how much Bella hates dealing with landlords. from her describing her experiences delivering Renee's late rent to telling Phil to pay rent early to "get the landlord off Renee's back" to her doing DIY plumbing repairs, it feels like she does everything in her power to avoid getting a landlord in her hair. honestly, mood.]

“And I would make tea for you every morning and dinner for you every night. We would stay there for weeks at a time.”

“Months.”

“Years.”

“Forever.”

“Forever,” he echoed. It sounded off.

The sun dropped into the horizon.

“Twilight, again,” I remembered him saying at prom. “No matter how perfect the day is, it always has to end….”

[so interesting, this shift we see in Edward by the end of Come Nightfall/beginning of By Starlight. in ITA he insists there is an end to all things (especially the self). contrast this with BS Chapter 1: Ultimatum where he insists Bella isn't terminal. he's able to rationalize that he can't keep Bella, but the more he falls in love with her, the less he wants to stand by his assertion that there is an end to all things...]

At prom, it had sounded romantic.

Here, it haunted me.

We didn’t speak. Only dying birdsongs and classical music filled the silence.

Before he could wallow in his forever comment, I asked, “So what's on the menu for tonight?” gesturing with my head to the tiny stereo. “Wagner, to celebrate my being done reading that freak Nietzsche?” [i was reading The Gay Science at the time. sadly, the book does not cover homosexuality]

“Hah hah. As if this was remotely Wagnerian.” For a moment he tensed underneath me; his faltering chuckle returned. “I was wondering when you’d say something. What do you think?”

It was the smoothest-sounding music I’d ever heard—that’s what I thought. Every note was correct and on key and on beat and every instrument played with exact preciseness. It felt more like the whole song was just one fluid, resonating harmonic note to the next. A dream. A fantasy.

[in the early stages of drafting these fics, i list bullet points of things that i think would be cool to write. at the climax of New Moon, instead of exposing himself to humans, i thought it'd be fun if Edward had turned Bella's lullaby into an anti-Volturi operatic work that he would play throughout Volterra on St Marcus' Day. not all ideas are good ideas]

What set it apart were the colors. They jumped off the track. Purples and orangey-yellows, mostly, but the piano sounded like the greenest grass Forks had ever grown. [Bella has chromesthesia. light spoilers?, this comes back later]

“Unedited thoughts only,” he warned me.

“You know what it reminds me of?” I said, patting his knee. “Debussy. With a little Emile Pandolfi zhuzh to it. Or like if Rachmaninov woke up one day and decided to write something a little more understated.”

“Classical influences with modern touches.”

“Exactly.”

“Dramatic?”

“In good way. Y’know? Not so cloying and loud.”

“Calmer.”

“Yeah. Less struggle. If that makes sense.”

“Interesting.” He tried keeping an even face but his eyes lit up. He nuzzled his face into my collar. “But the real question: do you like it?”

“Hell yeah. That’s my biased opinion. You know I like your recs.”

“Except Bobby Vinton.” [deleted a whole scene about Bella and Edward arguing over how much Bobby Vinton sucks, so this was my compromise]

“Fifties trash,” I said with a dismissive shrug, “what can you say?” [SO true bestie]

“I’d say your taste in men is better than your taste in music, and that’s not saying much.” [HEY!]

His voice was jovial—and false.

—No, not false.

Shaken with a sheepish nervousness. Embarrassment?

I laid back against his chest. Puzzle pieces assembled in my head, so loud and clear I would assume he could hear me coming to my conclusions.

Edward was nervous.

All night, he’d been nervous.

The good kind of nervous.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll bite. Tell me.”

Laying against him, I could feel excitement coursing through him.

“Hm?”

“There’s a speech you’re not telling me,” I said. Edward broke into a smile but looked down so I wouldn’t see it. The anticipation he carried with him felt like live wires on my skin. “You’re dying to say it. Mhm. Something overwrought. Or some super nerdy, esoteric lecture, I bet. Yeah. The blues speech. The classical music. There’s a theme going on here.” He laughed. “Tell me. Who’s this dead guy and why do I care?” [this Eleanor Shellstrop-ass line]

“The tongue on you.” His lips kissed my temple, tickled the shell of my ear when he spoke. “That dead guy is me, thank you very much.”

“Huh?” I whipped around to face him with an open-mouthed smile. “No way.”

“Yes, way. Wrote and performed.”

“This? Really? You wrote this? Really?” As I talked, I moved to straddle him, my hands on his shoulders, the side of his neck. Brassy golds and jewel-toned purples swirled through the music drifting between us. “That’s so cool!”

This, like everything else about Edward, seemed otherworldly in its grace and beauty. It felt like listening to the future of music—refined to an even higher degree of perfection.

Of course this was his.

“Is it so hard to believe?”

Now my hands played nervously with the locks of his hair that sat at the nape of his neck. “No, it’s just, you said you hadn't written anything since the 70s, and the colors are just—I mean it’s perfect, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but, just—wow." [Edward likely doesn't know she has synesthesia, considering how much of herself she's hidden from him pre-breakup.]

"Eloquent as always."

"This is amazing work. Wow!” It felt like I radiated so much joy, my cheeks burned. “Congratulations, oh my god. It’s great. It’s brilliant. I take back all the ‘dead guy, don’t care’ stuff. Lecture me up.”

“You assume I have more to say?”

I snickered, raking my hand through his hair and pulling on it. He purred. “Six words? You? Please,” I said, and he laughed. “What d’you got for me? Historical context? Music theory? Behind-the-scenes anecdote? You gotta unedit, y’know.” [it's crazy to go back to these earlier scenes and hear this Bella talk. there's such a stark difference imo between pre- & post-breakup Bella. in By Starlight, she's sounds more mature, somber, careful with her words, closer to canon. i can def see why readers abandon these works lmao]

Getting Edward to share any of his compositions had been, up until now, impossible. He had informed me several times he hadn’t written anything since the 1970s. Any time I’d ask, he’d just come up with some medley of songs by others, or he’d improvise.

“It’s a lullaby.” Beat. “Your lullaby.” Another beat. “I wrote it for you.”

I blinked. Stilled.

“For me?” My hand fell back to his chest, leaving his hair a wild, sculpted mess. Edward watched my face fall and eyes drift toward the speaker; his brows knit. “A lullaby? For me?”

Edward laughed, nervous, and pressed a button on the stereo.

"Happy birthday," he murmured to me.

Instruments jumped into that first note, springing to life with a harmonized breathlessness that reminded me of sky blue, lavender, spots of gold, and brown. An overwhelming, bright, vibrant first measure calmed into a languid, inquisitive piano.

Oftentimes, a song would have competing colors, for better or for worse. Anything I wanted to paint would require several relistenings and a full-on moodboard before the oil would ever hit the canvas.

Art supplies were expensive—you had to be sure of your vision.

But this. This was gorgeous. Like it had been written with the intention of being ready for the canvas.

For me.

“It’s been in my mind for a while now. At first, they were just bits of melodies you’ve given me from our time together. The happy, sunny times.”

“Like a tapestry of little memories?” I joked, voice thick with emotion.

“In the middle of the night, if you start tossing, I hum it to you. I think you like it. It calms you down.” He grinned. “You stop trying to kick me, anyway.”

“Which memories did you use?”

“G-minor, when you first spoke to me—that was the first measure. The first night I stayed over. Picking wild blackberries for you on the way to the meadow. [i've always thought this Edward had some crow-ass behavior going on. like he'll just show up at Bella's window with a handful of berries or a shiny pebble or a tiny flower and be like, "i come bearing gifts (caw)"] And— Do you remember the second time we took the truck to that forest a couple miles north of Goat Rocks?” I frowned. “In July? We played Nickel Nock in the truckbed? You were asking about the—"

“Fireflies,” we finished in unison. I laughed. “Duh!” I told him it’d been the first time I’d seen one in person. Edward turned off the lamp and caught one for me in his hands just so I could see it up close. I smiled wide. “The little chimes in background [WINDCHIMES BAYBEEE]. Is that them? The fireflies?”

“Perceptive.”

Tears threatened to spill over; I wiped one away from the corner with my thumb.

send me 500 words of my fanfic & i will give you the equivalent of a DVD commentary on that snippet

[welcometolansstudy]

25 oct 2024 - friday, 03:30

how was your thursday?

me and my boyfriend were on call and we both wanted to take a nap so we said 30 minutes, till 22:00. we both set alarms and went to take a nap but i guess we were both really tired since neither of us woke up 😭 i just suddenly woke up right now because my head decided to think "what time is it rn and what time do i have to start my shift" and i panicked, thinking it was day time already. when i woke up, my big lamp was still on and all (i turned on my big lamp bc i thought it'd make it easier for me to wake up - didn't help in the end). the process of one of us (or us both) taking a nap, not waking up when we said we would, and sleeping till 5 or 6 in the morning has repeated 3 TIMES IN A ROW NOW like ??? were we that sleep deprived? is it because it gets dark soon? i mean we've been sleeping as little as we always have, there's not really been a change in our sleeping schedule lately

anyway, the goals of yesterday that i completed were practicing piano, taking out the trash, have proper breakfast (carbonara buldak noodles). i didn't study in the end (i was planning on, after waking up from my nap at 22:00 ....), and instead of drawing, i tried air dry clay that i bought wednesday!

made something for my good friend because he moved into an apartment and i thought it'd be nice to give him a house warming gift!! i can't attend his actual house warming celebration bc i've got work that day and they didn't give me the day off :'). i made an incense holder and an ash tray! planning on adding navy details around the edges, and putting a "C" for his name on it. he's quite minimalistic so i think he'd like that type of decoration

i hope you had a good day! sleep well, and i'll see you tomorrow <333