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nahoney22 · 2 years ago

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Outcast (part 2/2)

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙

Ebenezer Scrooge X F!Reader

word count: 4.5k

•gif is mine, please credit if used•

With you never seeming to leave his mind, what happens when his irritable nephew comes by and offers company for a dinner party this Christmas. Will he accept and will he pick you as a date?

Masterlist

Warnings: none, fluff. Scrooge still a little bit of an arse but we love that for him. Quite a heated 😚, not really happy how it turned out ngl I was rushing towards the end. Not proofread.

Part one | Part two

Never had Scrooge been so perplexed about his own feelings before.

The ounce of kindness he had shown last week was playing on his mind both for the good and bad. Good in the sense that it made him feel positive to do something for another yet, the outcome was not at all what he expected.

As you kissed his cheek, clearly overcome with joy in that moment, Scrooge felt sickened soon after. He let his guard down so quickly, something he had never done before in many years. Though, he did replay the moment you had leaned into him and placed your soft lips to his cheek. It sent waves of butterflies in his stomach whenever he thought about it or glanced in your direction.

He simply refused to let something or someone like that get to him again. He’s adamant about that, so certain never to feel that weakness… until you walked into his office.

“Sir?”

As he was scribbling furiously, just thinking about you and the little peck on his cheek, the point of his quill almost pierced the parchment on his desk as he gazed up at you - heart aflame.

“Y-yes?” He clears his throat, sitting up straight and pushing his messy work to the side. “What is it?”

You enter, closing the door behind you. “There is an issue with one of these logs you filled out last week.” You say, a little nervous as correcting your boss was something you never wanted to do and even felt a little out of turn in doing so.

His eyes narrow and holds out his hand, gesturing for the book to which you hand over. A small shuddering breath escapes him however as the touch of your fingers briefly touches his own but you don’t seem to have noticed. Good.

As he checks everything over, he’s almost horrified to see that indeed, there was a mistake. It was only a minor error, a simple misplacement of a decimal point but that is besides the point. He never made mistakes.

Eyes glancing down at the date, he cringes mentally to see it was the exact date he had succumbed to some good in his life. “Ah,” he tenses, fingers flexing against his desk as he suddenly finds it hard to look up at you, “I see.”

You nod slowly, feeling quite a little tense yourself. You wouldn’t particularly say that Ebenezer went back to his old ways, but he had been fairly distant with you. Perhaps you hugging him and giving a small kiss on the cheek was out of line. Though, you believed he would have addressed it, surely? So for now, you kept quiet just as he had been.

“It has been corrected.” He notes, making the necessary changes to the book before sliding it towards you, finally glancing up in your direction. Had your skin always glowed that certain way? Subconsciously he swallows the saliva that built in his throat, wiping his sweaty palms on his suit pants under the desk. “Is there… is there anything else I should be aware of?”

You shake your head. “No. That will be all.” Swiping up the book, you turn to leave but stop as an abrupt noise of a chair scraping across the wooden floor caught your attention. Looking over your shoulder, you raise a brow to see Scrooge standing straight, looking at you but his face reads confusion and nervousness. “Is everything the matter?”

“Yes, I uh,” he struggles to find a reason for his sudden burst of bizzare behaviour, “I saw a spider on my desk.”

“Oh,” you begin to walk back towards his desk to deal with the pesky critter but he quickly moves round the front of his desk and holds his hands up.

“That is quite alright. I can deal with it.” His arm extends, a gesture for you to head towards the door and get back to work.

You’re quick to notice his tone seemed different. There was no anger, no snarky comments he just seemed… peculiar. “Well if you insist.” He walks with you to the door, his hand grasping the handle.

“Indeed I do.” He nods firmly but when you smile at him, his knees go weak and he finds himself smiling too. A rare but handsome sight.

You’re both staring at each other, breaths both a little shaky as clearly you both think about the elephant in the room. If you took one step closer to him, you’re bound to be chest to chest and although you find yourself tempted, you know in your mind that it would be foolish. However, you were unaware that he was thinking the same. He could cloud your senses in a matter of moments, he could take you in his arms and tell you that you’re special for making him feel this way. Subtly, his eyes flicker to your lips…He could perhaps kiss you too if you would allow him.

But, before he could open his mouth (if anything was going to be said anyway) the door bursts wide open sending you tumbling onto the ground upon impact.

“UNCLE EBENEZ- oh dear, are you quite alright?”

You’re rubbing the back of your neck as you sit up to see what could have possibly made you fall so much. Vision blurred briefly, you squinted to see two men looking down at you, seemingly worried glances on their faces.

“What do you think you are doing? Barging in here without invitation?” Your boss snaps at the younger gentleman who has now crouched down in front of you, extending his hand to you.

A look of apology plasters the man’s face, once you sit up and get your bearings. “I was just so excited to see you Uncle and to share my exciting news! Now help me first with this pretty creature I clumsily sent flying.”

Scrooge was shooting flames through his eyes at the back of his nephew's head and a wave of jealousy overpowered him just for a brief second. He thought you were pretty? Bah! Only he can express those secret feelings.

Oh, so he knew you were pretty. Dare he say he also thought you were positively enchanting too. He sighs mentally, that simply did not help his case in trying to get this feeble feeling inside him about you to fade.

Both gentlemen take a hold of your arms and in a matter of seconds, you’re hoisted straight onto your feet. One of the men lets you go and you lose your footing just slightly as you didn’t prepare yourself for such a quick helping. Something wraps around your waist and you’re pulled into something tall and slender. Oh yes, your boss.

Eyes widening, you glance up towards Scrooge and are surprised to see how red his face had gotten. You suspected it could be one of three things. One, there’s a window open and a very cold draft has blistered in. Two, the clear anger he had towards this other gentleman or three, the proximity between the two of you. Oddly enough, you wish it to be the third.

Your face cringes a little at your thoughts and you could almost slap the back of your hand for thinking that way about your boss. But dare you admit he had been on your mind an awful lot?

“There! No harm done. Apologies Miss….?” The young man politely asks for your name to which you give it, standing straighter but for some reason, Scrooge’s arm still held you rather close in case you were going to slip if he let go.

“A very beautiful name may I say.” He charmed with a beaming and rather infectious smile. He then looked between the two of you and a curious brow was raised. “Now then Uncle, I was not aware you were courting someone?”

Both of your bodies stiffen and you’re blushing ridiculously. So doing what you think is the right thing, you step out of his grasp and give him a small nod and then turn to his supposed nephew. “N-no it is not like that. I am merely just one of his workers.” You gush quickly, self-consciously straightening out the skirt to your dress.

Harry’s mouth falls into a small ‘o’ shape and then looks to his Uncle again. “Oh that’s a shame as I was wondering if you and my loving Uncle here,” he grins at Scrooge whose face shows nothing but irritance, “would like to come to a Christmas party I am hosting tonight! Well, I say me but it is really Hela.”

“Hela? Who is that?”

“My wife. I suppose you would know that if you had shown up to my wedding last spring.” The tension was a little too thick for your liking. So quietly, you excused yourself and swiftly left Ebenezer’s office.

The pair of them watch you leave and once Scrooge has closed the door behind you, he is already practically growling at his ‘foolish’ nephew.

“She seems nice, Uncle.” He hints a little too playfully for his liking, making the man scoff and move back to his desk and sit back down.

“What is it you want?” He sighed miserably, picking up his quill and getting back to business.

Harry places his hands on the desk, leaning a little down towards his Uncle as if to get his full attention. “I already stated. You, maybe that rather attractive lady you have working for you, my home for a Christmas party tonight!”

Ebenezer pauses for a second and checks a small Callander to his left before returning his gaze back to his work. “Christmas is not for another seven days.”

“It’s an early party! Oh come on, Uncle please? I never see you and Hela is more than thrilled at the thought of you finally making your acquaintance with her.

The older man lets out an obvious heavy sigh and places his quill down. “I think you and I are both aware that my presence is not tolerable, Harry.” He leans back, folds his hands together over his chest and ever so slightly gazes to the window where he saw you. “Besides I also do not think that she will appreciate my company either for the evening.”

There was a doubtful glance on Harry’s face as he looked towards you and then to his Uncle. “I would not be too sure about that…”

Scrooge was quick to pick up on his meaning and merely scoffed once more but it did pique his curiosity. “How so?”

Harry smirks just a tad. “Well, before I interrupted you both I did see the way you were looking at one another.”

He narrows his eyes. “Which is how?”

“You will see.”

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙

He did not how he managed to lure Scrooge into his plan for the evening but he did. And how Scrooge even managed to convince you to come with him was a miracle all by itself.

Alas however, he stood in front of his old and badly cared for mirror as he straightened out his old dresswear and dusted off his shoulders. It was a little looser than he remembered from around twenty years back when he had a more muscular build to him but, he had nothing else. Although critical of others, he’s surprisingly a critical of himself.

He found himself once more, as usual nowadays, scoffing to himself at the thought of trying to impress another but as he grabs his cane and hat, he takes a steady breath and makes way towards your home.

One step, then another and another he feels nerves tingle in his belly as he tries to think of any good conversation starters or anything that isn’t remotely work related too.

Perhaps he could make a comment about the music that will be played. No doubt it will be joyful and full of cheer that already seemed to be giving him a headache before even stepping foot into his nephews home. Or maybe he could compliment her appearance? His eyes widen at the thought, would he even dare? Would it be out of turn for him to do so? As he walked up the cobbled path to your little humble home, he clears his mind, takes a deep breath and knocks on the door.

There is some silent cursing from behind the door as you hurried to get your shoes on and wrap a scarf round your neck for the winter season. With everything you needed, you yourself inhaled a deep breath and opened the door to see a pink-cheeked Ebenezer.

“Good evening,” you say softly, steppping out and locking the door behind you before you turn to ace him once more, “you look… very smart, Sir.”

He’s truly blown away by what he sees. Your hair is styled to almost perfection aside from the stray piece of hair that dangled down the side of your cheek. You’re sporting a simple yet elegant looking gown that made you look effortlessly beautiful and there was only a simple slither of makeup on your cheeks. You looked beautiful before in his eyes but now he was a little breath taken.

Your shy yet awkward smile was enough to signal that he had just been stood gawping at you rather than address you so he quickly clears his throat, gives a little stomp of his cane and raises his head. “Thank you ma’am, you too look, uh, quite devine.”

He extends his arm to you, knowing this was probably an okay move to make and his throw was correct once you link your arm though his and make haste.

The walk there is silent, a little awkward at first until Harry’s house came into view. “I was not aware you had a nephew, Sir.”

The topic is a little sensitive for him as it would be for most but your curiosity was not at all one of malice. “I thought I told you that you’re allowed to call me by my name and not Sir.” He replies to you with a pointed expression yet there was flicker of a smile hindering on his face somewhere. “But to answer your question, he is the son of my late sister.”

Your face drops but you do slowly start to remember that there is a picture on hiw desk of him as a young boy with a young girl. There is an ache in your heart and as you begin to apologise he holds up his hand to stop you.

“No need for that. Although I found him barely tolerable, he is still my nephew if that did mean the loss of my sister. Alas, we move forward.” He grumbles the last part. Gods, he really is getting a little soft if he now thinks of Harry as ‘barely tolerbale’ rather than intolerable.

When you both entered Harry’s home, you both had never felt so much like outcasts in your lives. Although your dress was nice it was nothing compared to the gowns that the other ladies were wearing and Scrooge, obviously, stuck out like a sore thumb and folk seemed to avoid him like the plague.

Your coat is removed by one of the servers that Harry must have hired for the evening and even though you protest a little, it was still taken from your shoulders as did your scarf, Scrooge’s hat, coat and cane as well.

“Uncle, Ma’am! How lovely it is to see you both here. Thank you for coming.” Harry yells over the crowd, some odd glances being tossed in your direction. You grow a little self conscious, wrapping your arms around yourself whilst trying to show somewhat dignity. With many prying eyes, looking you up and down the company you’re keeping is not the most favorable. Which is a shame since you did not seem to mind that part.

“This is a lovely… home you have.” Scrooge says through slightly gritted teeth, well out of his comfort zone as he gazed up to the large sparkling chandelier above the pair of you. As expected, the music was terribly cheerful for his taste but from the corner of his eye he sees you humming gently to the music. Maybe the difference in music tastes was enough for him to try and dislike you less which was seemingly starting to feel impossible. Especially when he sees how calm and talkative you are with Hela who comes over.

“It is a pleasure to finally meet the man who likes to hide away from us.” Hela had teased playfully, earning a hearty laugh from her husband and even a small one from you.

Scrooge releases a strained breath, trying to hold in any rude comment he had the desire to make. “Pleasure’s all mine though please, do not get used to it…”

He felt a small nudge to his side and he glanced down at you, a dubious look on his face as you gave him a stern glance. “You have a lovely home.” You beam at Hela, turning your attention back to her. “I’d be glad to come and visit again and I’m sure Ebenezer would too.”

Hela leans into her husband, smiling fondly at the two of you as she swirls the contents in her glass around. “Say, how long have you two been married?”

It was a good job you weren’t drinking tonight because otherwise whatever you had consumed would have been spluttered all over the floor. With a deep inhale of a sharp breath, you felt rather confound. This is the second time this has happened in the space of very few hours and if it were to happen a third, you would feel compelled to say just under a year.

“Not married. She is,” Scrooge clears the thick tension, clearing his throat and holding his chin high, “too good for me.”

Your heart swells a little at his words though there is a small pang of empathy in your mind. Behind the tough exterior, you had definitely seen his soft side and therefore you knew there was good in him. Good enough for you at least.

Before Hela could speak up, seeing the abashed look on your face, the music swells into a more slow-tempered melody. “This song is my favorite.” Harry chimes, taking his wife’s hand in his and leading her to the open floor.

The two of you stand back, watching couple join together in a dance and if you didn’t feel out of place before, you certainly did now.

For some reason, your mouth decides to speak for you before your mind could process. “Do you dance, Ebenezer?”

“Not if I can help it.” He quips without a second thought but when he does think, he looks down to you. “D-do you?”

You don’t meet his gaze, instead smile a little at his stutter. “No.”

As you turn your head, you’re almost breath taken as his eyes bore into your own. They’re intense but not ones that will make you shake in fear - instead - they were ones that caused a bonfire in your heart. “Would you like to go somewhere quieter? The music is a little too loud for me.” You suggest, giving a little white lie in the process.

His heartbeat quickens and although this mind was screaming no, his heart was saying yes. He nods and the two of you quietly leave the room and decide to slip into an unoccupied drawing-room.

When the door closes, you're both alone. The sound of music from the other room does resound off the walls but it was quite nice. Though, you could hear your heartbeat strumming in your ear.

You walk towards the center, hands clasped together at your front as he takes in the architecture. “Your nephew's home really is lovely. He must have done well for himself.”

“Yes, well I would like to imagine that my brother-in-law had sought him in the right direction after mine and my sister's upbringing.” There was a bitterness in his tone, taking a walk round the room and subtly admiring the large pairings and portraits along the walls.

“Life was rough for you?” You question, watching him as he traced a delicate finger along the mantle above the fireplace, expecting dirt but nothing to show.

“Quite. My father was not a kind man and was not a good role model to have.” His shoulders slump slightly as he heads towards one of the many large windows, eyes casting out towards the downward snow. “I had to provide mostly for my sister and mother because although he was a rich man he spent his way into debtor’s prison.” He seethed, closing his eyes tightly as a wave of memories flashed before his eyes.

You watched him and there was a temptation tingling in your fingers to reach out and place a comforting arm to his shoulder but you held back as something didn't seem quite right with you. “Ebenezer, forgive me if I am out of turn to speak this way but you speak ill of your father and his debts. Yet, many people owe you debts.”

Slowly, he turns his head to look at you. As you stand there, twiddling your fingers he understands what you are getting at but was certainly not ready to have his pride shot down by your truthful words. “That is the career path I chose and if people choose to ask for money, I will loan it. If they can not pay me back then I either double it or they themselves can be sent straight to debtors prison too. And owe me debts you say? I like to believe that you are also part of this job are you not? As well as Bob?”

His words were rather high strung, wanting to catch you out as if he should argue with you, as if it would break the mold forming between you two. Though, you raised a brow and gave him an almost disappointed look. “I am merely someone who checks the logs and stacks shelves. I do not communicate with your clients as that is your role. I chose this job as I wanted to do just something no matter how undignified it may seem to others. To do something that was not expected of me.” You speak proud and true, not falling for whatever it was he was trying to insinuate.

“I saw kindness in you Ebenezer. I know deep down you do not want these poor folk we have to end up just like your father did.”

There’s a sting in your words but so painfully true. And that sealed it for him, it was impossible to dislike you. You spoke freely and were not hesitant in your words with him. There was no shying away and the fact you saw the good in him rather than the blackness of his heart meant that he too could believe he was good.

So, he chuckles. A true hearty one at that.

“What is so funny?” You quiz, unsure whether to be offended or not as he approaches you.

When he stops in front of you, he is merely inches away from his chest pressing to yours. “I am amused as to how a lady like you can see so much positivity in someone so cold.” Words just above a whisper, you’re entranced by your boss and you audibly gasped as his hands take hold of your own and he slowly brings them up. “Your hands are rather cold too.”

Jittering breaths, you look down at the hands that held your own and bravely close the gap between you two with just a step closer. “Perhaps you could keep them warm for me?” There’s teasing in your voice and he falters just for a second. His mouth instantly waters and you see his Adam’s apple bop up and down at your proposition.

“I would be g-glad to.” He nods, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips and before you know it, your hands are being raised towards his lips and a warm blow of his breath cascades over your knuckles.

His eyes flicker up at you as he does this, seeing your eyelids flutter close as you bask in the warmth of his breath warms your soft hands. Daringly, damned to hell with how inappropriate it was being intimate with his colleague, his lips graze over one knuckle. Then the next. And then the rest.

“S-Sir, what if someone sees us?”

There’s a low chuckle from him that sends vibrations over your body. “I told you not to call me that.”

You hum in slight amusement though you were a little light-headed at the current events. “That did not answer my question.”

“Then,” he pulls his lips away from your last knuckle on your right hand and moves his gaze to the door and then to you, “they will pity you for being seen with a man like me.” For a second there’s a glimmer of sadness in his eyes and so you release one of your hands from his embrace and carefully place it on his cheek.

“Do you know what else is cold?” You say quietly, trying to keep your breath as steady and not unwavered as possible.

“I am unaware. What is?”

In for a shilling, in for a pound.

“My lips.”

His eyes widened at your indirect proposal but your face showed nothing but sincerity. So, he did the thing that he tried so hard not to even think about doing and leans into your touch, arm snaking around your waist until you’re flushed against him. “Is this what you desire? I… I am not a good man.”

With a wry smile you softly nod your head. “Yes, and you are a good man even if you do not see it yet.”

Overcome with the emotion of being wanted, his free hand moves to the back of your head and nestles in your hair as he captures your lips in a somewhat desperate and needy kiss.

You’re almost knocked off your feet as his lips descended on yours, his eyes tightly shut as if he were to open them for it all to be a dream. When you reciprocate, even beginning to move his lips along his, he relaxes.

You could feel your heartbeat speeding up, your other hand placing it to his chest to see if you could feel his; and you can. His head tips, welcoming the feeling of warm and soft lips but he almost faints as your tongue brushes against his lips yet he welcomes the foreign yet exciting new sensation.

Both of your breathing gets a little heavy, fingers tightening on your waist and you gasp as you’re moved back, back pressing to the wall.

Nothing could have expected you for this moment, nothing at all. Although as your tongues probe at one another, swallowing each other’s soft and welcoming moans, you’re completely blown away at how assertive and dominant he became. Especially when one of his hands travels up the bodice of your dress and presses to the side of your neck. His lips leave your now slightly plump ones and you’re shivering in ecstasy as his lips instead caress at your cheek, then your jaw and soon found home on your neck.

Maybe, you both should take this back to his place before you could spoil both of your reputations.

tags for those who wanted a part 2: @8e-h-e8 @simp123321 @jazz-53 @xxsapphire14 @chocotacobread

Masterlist

#ebenezer scrooge x reader #Scrooge x reader #Scrooge x you #scrooge a christmas carol #ebenezer scrooge #Scrooge #not sw related

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a-short-alien · 8 months ago

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Hiiii! First ever post! I wanted to start off by introducing my cringe self insert. I made him at first just cause I like clowns and wanted to make an OC to date Nightwing, but like many of my cringe self inserts I overdeveloped his story and accidentally made a whole AU centered around him. I’ll make more posts about the cannon characters soon, but enjoy his backstory :3

Joker was looking for a new plan that would hopefully both prove his “love” to Harley and finally get him even with the Batman. The Batman had recently started working with his first ever Robin, eight year old Dick Grayson. To the Joker, this was unfair, so he decided to get his own child sidekick. Joker made his way to the broken down apartments surrounding crime alley and after finding a neglected little seven year old kid alone in their apartment he made the next logical move, waited for their parents to come home, murdered them and took the kid home. He decided on the name Clown, telling Harley they were their new son! Of course the Joker did a number of unethical things, like never taking the kid to a single school building for any reason that wasn't for a plot, trying to bleach his skin (he was stopped by Batman on multiple occasions but Clown always ran back to his father), and training him specifically for the purpose of one upping Robin. There were times he was good, or well, bare minimum. He was accepting when Clown came out as trans at the age of 9 (he hadn’t even realized Clown was AFAB in the first place), he fed him proper meals most days, ensured he wasn’t thrown in Arkham (much easier considering he was a minor), ensured he wasn't homeless (at least not for log periods of time) and even provided some emotional support (though poor) when needed. But like a lot of Jokers plans, it wasn’t as effective as he had wished, no matter what he did, Robin was always better than his Clown, so he scrapped the idea. He didn’t kill Clown, he had become oddly attached to him and liked keeping around someone eternally loyal to him, just stopped paying attention. Clown continued pursuing Robin though, in an attempt to prove to his father he was worth the attention but ended up just creating a secret friendship with him, even learning his secret identity at some point (Bruce will not learn this until far later he simply thinks Clown is just friends with both Dick Grayson and Robin and is HEAVILY against it for obvious reasons). Clown sort of filled his days with spending time with Harley, the Hyenas, and sneaking out to go see Dick whenever he could. After Harley left, taking the dogs he picked up hobbies like painting or writing, slowly seeing Dick less and less until he had left to become Nightwing. In the period of years Dick had “died” and done all of his antics with Spiral and the court of Owls Clown ended up moving from home. He stayed with Harley some days, sometimes stole some money for a hotel for a few days until one day (at around 22) he started this odd love/hate relationship with the Riddler (only about a year or two older than Clown and Dick in this AU). They lived together for a while and were pretty on and off until Nightwing was back, Clown left Eddy to move to Blüdhaven and start following Dick around again. He stole the occasional wallet from tourists and managed to scrape together enough money to rent a pretty shitty apartment. He spends his time now just bothering Dick both on and off the Hero clock. They eventually developed a small tradition where Dick buys Clown dinner just as a way to ensure he eats at least once a day. This went on for a year or two until slowly Dick began to realize how Clown was struggling (could barely pay rent, no heating/AC, very little food, ect.). After one night in winter where Clown nearly froze to death and had to be taken back to stay at his apartment, Nightwing very slowly moved Clown's things into his apartment by trying to get him to stay more and more overtime. Eventually Clown had just fully moved in and after a few emotional conversations about their childhoods, what they missed in those years apart and Clown's admission that he didn't like doing his father's bidding (was always clear to Dick anyway), the two slowly began to start a relationship together. They now live together in his Blüdhaven apartment and are currently working on trying to track down Clown's legal documentation and get him a normal life.

#art #batman #batfam #nightwing #oc #batmanoc #joker #jokeroc #selfinsert #au #batmanau #DC #dickgrayson #comics #batfamily

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katyawriteswhump · 9 months ago

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the power of love pt 4 (steddie, stobin, steve whump fic)

Steve has a habit of surviving near death experiences then getting sick for no reason. And Eddie and those fatal bat bites? After an impossible feat of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Steve, he’s mysteriously fixed. So, Eddie’s back to being banished, this time with Steve and Robin in tow. Eddie’s healing, but Steve isn’t… and life gets even more confusing, when Eddie develops feelings for Steve, which aren’t entirely unrequited.

Part one Part two Part three Part five Part six Part seven Part eight Part Nine Part Ten Part 11 Part 12

Chapter Four

Steve POV

1978

Steve carves his way across Lover’s Lake with an energetic front crawl. Okay, he’s got to admit—it’s a bit bigger than he judged.

He’s getting tired, though he can still make it. After all, he’s eleven years old, and the best swimmer in his grade. He reckons he could beat half the kids in the High School swim squad. What’s a puny lake to Steve Harrington?

The waters grow thick and deadly heavy. Soon, his arms flounder and his legs splash uselessly. He glances up to figure how far the bank is, mistimes his stroke, gulps a mouthful of water.

He chokes, swallows, discovers he’s no clue in which direction he should go. He swipes wet hair from his eyes and realizes he can’t see his parents. Can’t see anybody. Yeah, he’d deliberately swum off to prove his father wrong, because he’d said Steve couldn’t cross the lake, but… Oh crap!

He sinks, pulls upward with all he’s got left, and bursts through the surface, screaming: “Dad! Mom! Dad? I’m… lost… Heeeelp!” His legs have gone weak, and he doesn’t know what to do with his arms, whether to wave them or try to swim or… “Mommy? Da-ad? Daddy!”

His final efforts fail, and the dark waters suck him deep, closing seamlessly above his head.

1986

The scary dreams fade to nothingness, and Steve begins to wake. His head aches, and his bat bites manage to throb, itch and burn all at once. He opens his eyes, with a weary sense of having been through all this before, far too many times.

However, he isn’t in his parents’ living room, which is the last thing he remembers. He’s not a clue where he is. It looks like some dingy log cabin, and a stale tobacco stench catches in his throat. Robin’s nowhere to be seen, which alarms him further. Eddie paces the creaking floor, flexing and cracking his fingers.

“Eddie?”

Eddie’s hand flies to his chest. Then that electric smile that Steve’s getting way too fond of returns: “Hey, big boy. How ya doing?”

“Oh, never better.” Steve coughs. He doesn’t even try to rise from the lumpy old camp bed he’s lying on. “My body feels like goddamn heavy metal… and, uh, not the sort you dig.”

“Seen bodies I like less, Harrington.” Eddie smirks then cringes; Steve’s not gotten a clue how to read that. “Look, you've been asleep for nearly twenty-four hours.” He grabs a bottle of water. “You have to drink. Or we’re gonna have to get you to a doctor, and Buckley’s gonna ride my ass.”

“I’ll give it a shot.” Trouble is, Steve knows that Eddie will have to help, and it’s dead awkward. He does his best to sit, while Eddie plumps the pillows and helps support him. Eddie’s hair gets everywhere, way worse than Steve’s. Then Steve’s hand trembles so bad, Eddie has to guide the bottle to his lips. Even then, half the water dribbles down Steve’s chin, and it barely wets his parched lips. After a couple of slurps, his stomach performs an unpleasant flip. “Had enough, man.”

“Ooookay. We’ll try again later, huh?”

“Yeah, if you want me to vomit all over your… Hey, is that my Hugo Boss t-shirt?”

“Don’t worry, Harrington. It’ll look waaay better when I daub it with the sacred Hellfire Club logo.”

Steve’s beyond caring about that kinda stuff. What he really wants to say, but won’t, is that it looks great on Eddie. The short sleeves afford sizzling glimpses of Eddie’s tats.

Christ, get over it, Harrington.

He concentrates on what Eddie is telling him. Turns out, the three of them have escaped Hawkins, though not travelled far: “We’re in a deserted cabin, about twenty miles out. Robin can cycle back and get into radio contact with Dustin and the others, which is where she is now. They can sort out supplies, give us updates. It’s still total chaos in town, which has bought us time.”

“You need to keep moving, man,” murmurs Steve. “I know I said don’t go without me, but… Jesus, I’m slowing you down.”

Eddie gives a casual shrug. “Nah. We can wait for ya, Stevie.”

Stevie?!?

Steve snorts with laughter, then he sinks again fast. He’s so stupidly tired. God knows how long passes before Robin’s voice revives him. “Steve? Steve! Try to wake up. Please?”

He does. For her. His eyes are watery, and it takes a moment to focus. Then he sees her eyes are watery, pink-ish too. “Rob? W-What’s wrong?”

“Thank God, you’re back.” She leans close, attempts a clumsy approximation of a hug. When she pulls away, she unleashes way too many words for him to cope with. Dustin has updated her on tons. Max is hurt, and it’s really bad, and then she talks about Hopper.

Hopper’s alive?

Steve raises a shaky hand to veil his eyes. “Hey, slow down. Max is gonna be okay, right?”

He peeps between his fingers. The look that passes between Robin and Eddie all but chokes him. He disguises a sniffle beneath another cough.

“Hop’s coming back, and that’s good news, right?” says Robin. “Maybe he can get you two off the hook. Although, right now, I believe we’re among the missing, presumed dead. Yay?” She underlines her false cheer with a tremulous smile. That’s when Steve notices the baggy yellow top she’s wearing:

“Hey, that top is mine! You’re both wearing my clothes?”

Eddie leans coolly against the wall. “Badge of ownership, huh?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asks Steve. “Who owns whose ass?”

Eddie grins and… was that a twitch of his eyelid or a wink?!? Either way, it dizzies Steve. “Whichever way round you want, baby,” says Eddie.

“Ooookay.” Robin giggles, sounding as jittery as Steve feels. “Uh, Steve. We should probably check your bandages.”

He’s genuinely relieved when Eddie wanders off. He lifts his t-shirt and hisses as she pries the dressing from his scabbed blood. “Is it bad?”

“You’re not all stinky and septic, nor leaking Upside Down black goop, so… No, I’d say good. Does it hurt much?”

“Not as bad as it did.”

“You still seem a bit fever-y.” She gingerly drifts the back of her hand across his brow. “Not so gross and sticky as you were, though.”

“Lucky for you,” he snarks. He actually finds feeling so sick and weak far more intolerable than the pain. It reminds him of when he travelled with his parents, when he was much younger. And when he always got sick. A splash of ice bites deep. “Ow!”

Robin assaults him with an antiseptic spray. “Sorry!”

“Don’t go into medicine, Rob.”

“Wasn’t planning on it. Uh, Steve. One question.”

“Shoot.”

“Why did you ask us to leave town via Lover’s Lake?”

“Wha—” Steve blinks. His brain strains to retrieve whatever the hell she’s talking about and draws a blank. “I have zero memory of saying that. I mean, why the heck would I?”

“Oookay. You were probably raving.” That nervous laugh returns. “You sure you’re sure you’ve no idea?”

He blinks at her again. He really hasn’t.

He’s always loved swimming in Lover’s Lake. Then again, he likes swimming pretty much everywhere, particularly in open water. It gives him a rush, a sense of control that’s proven so difficult to grasp in pretty much every other area of his life. Okay, there was that one time he nearly drowned in Lover's Lake as a kid. Even that didn’t put him off for long. In fact, it fired him to get stronger, better, to learn lifesaving and CPR.

Robin’s brows are raised, as if she expects some bombshell revelation. “What do you want me to say?” he answers. “I haven’t a goddamn clue.”

She lets it drop. He fears he hasn’t heard the last of whatever’s bugging her. Perhaps, despite her protestations otherwise, she’s still fretting about rabies. “Hey, Eddie,” she yells, “stop skulking and come and help, will you?”

Robin and Eddie finish patching him up, and Steve struggles not to whimper like a candy-ass wuss. Then, as he feels too crappy to sleep, his mood plummets even lower. He can’t stop thinking about Max, and how he’d failed to save her. Maybe if he’d been there, he could’ve found a way, like he did when he saved Eddie?

That he was otherwise occupied feels like an excuse. He should’ve protected the kids better, and… Ugh, he detests being THIS DAMN PATHETIC, a total wimpezoid. He despises being seen like this, even by Robin, and she’s seen him brought low before, when they were captured by the Soviets. Plus, she’s his best friend. Steve Harrington is the big guy, the protector. Without that…

…I’m nothing. Eddie Munson’s gonna see that pretty quick. Uh… Why the Hell should I care so much about that?

His miserable thoughts drain him. He tries curling onto his good side, just as Robin comes at him with a bowl of cereal. “Get lost,” he mutters, and finally drifts back to a sick-feeling sleep.

Later, when he awakes, the fuss remains excruciating. Eddie props him up on more pillows and tucks up the blankets. Robin menaces him with the cereal again, and this time, he chokes down a few mouthfuls. Eddie checks Steve’s wounds, and wipes him down with a cloth, dabbing his scarred torso, hands and face.

Steve refuses to look Eddie in the eye, and chews his lip ragged. He waits till Robin goes outside then asks the question that is literally gonna kill him: “Eddie, I need the bathroom.”

“Oh.” Eddie palpably tenses. “Uh, pretty sure I saw a bucket somewhere.”

Steve groans. “Isn’t there plumbing inside this dump?”

“Noooot as such. There’s literally a brick shithouse outside. Reckon you can make it?”

“Sure,” says Steve, trying to sound casual rather than terrified he’s absolutely not gonna make it.

He manages to sit, and then Eddie helps him to his feet. They start off, with Steve leaning heavily against Eddie. To be fair, it goes better than expected. Steve’s dizzy and slightly nauseous, but the cereal stays down. While his legs are basically jello, they don’t give out completely.

Not until the way back, at any rate.

One of his knees buckles beneath his weight, and he flops into Eddie. He winds up clinging around Eddie’s neck, one foot sliding as if on ice, and staring up into Eddie’s dark, soulful eyes. Losing himself in them, like they’d drugged him or something; even giggling, and wondering fleetingly if that fizzle of attraction might still be real, despite his wretched state.

“I gotcha, Stevie.”

Stevie… again?

The pulsing veins on Eddie’s face betray his strain in keeping Steve from falling. He’s also wearing a faintly amused smile, which touches Steve somewhere tender and deep.

But Eddie’s laughing at him, not with him, right? “Bet I’m hilarious,” mumbles Steve. “I guess with no TV you get your kicks where you can.”

“I don’t watch much TV,” says Eddie, placid enough. “Sure miss my Ghetto Blaster.”

“There was one in my room. If you were dumb enough not to bag it, that’s your loss.”

While bitching, Steve finds his footing again. Eddie helps him back toward the camp bed. When, finally, Steve’s butt lands heavily on it, he’s still hugging around Eddie’s neck, so he tugs Eddie down with him. He slithers his arms free and shivers. He actually wishes he could keep clinging rather than go back to lying alone, feeling horrible. Christ, he’s hopeless.

He rolls to face the wall. Eddie pokes him. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” snaps Steve, the heat of his temper warming him. “I made it to the outhouse and back, didn’t I? If you two morons quit stalling, we can get moving again right away.”

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part Ten Part Twelve

...

tags: estrellami1 (thank you, thank you, thank you!) If anybody else would like to be tagged on this fic or any of my writing, please let me know :) Reblogs, comments and likes also very much appreciated :) Thank you for reading so far :)

(also part of my steve whump fic series on AO3)

#steddie #steve harrington whump #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steddie fanfic #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington #stobin fic #platonic stobin #stobin friendship #steve and robin #steve harrington x eddie munson #stobin #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington hurt/comfort

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goodluckclove · 4 months ago

Text

An Interview Series

Stop Two: A Private Room with @cssnder

When i thought to do this, Cassander Di Angelo was one of the first people I knew would make for good conversation. What resulted was something far more vulnerable on my end than I ever expected. She was kind, insightful, and intelligent as always, but I had to wait a few extra days before posting the log from this stop on my journey.

Join us as we discuss the nuance of identity in person, online, and on the page, and the reasons for why we do what we do.

If you want a closer look into Cassander's fascinating voice, I highly suggest signing up for her Substack. It's free, and you'll get direct access to her writing once it's developed! Now join us on this stop as we meet Cass somewhere quiet and secluded.

Now Playing: You Want it Darker by Leonard Cohen

It was a small, private, room of a quite picturesque sort. No bed, no television. There was a green sofa (one of those hideous things one could only find on sale the day following the death of an elderly, the kind you'd think smell of death but for whatever reason your girlfriend loves it), an antic wooden desk that stood grotesquely in the middle of the room, and an innumerable number of bookshelves. It wasn't much, and yet, the room seemed full.

The most interesting part was not so much the furnitures dressing the room but rather the few other details that were not of real interest when taken separately but created a striking picture when assembled together: the half-played game of solitaire spread on the floor, a selection of colourful ties hanging from the back of the sofa, papers all over the desk and piles of books everywhere but on the shelves.

The window was left open. And, in the morning fog, the sky turned into a pious white while the earthy smell of oak trees filled the cold November air. Melancholic, like a sad tune sang among magnolias.

where are we right now?

In a nameless town where no one knows me.

it's certainly a literary environment. i read through your entire blog so far while i was waiting to talk to you.

I used to be much more active on other platforms — Twitter, mainly. But as time went by, I learnt to love privacy and staying away from social medias. I think Tumblr is the platform I am the most active on, if that says anything about my relationship with the internet.

i have some mixed feelings on your content that i think would make for good conversation if you're open to it.

Sure, tell me.

so we've both been writing for a decade or longer. it's been fourteen years for me, and i think you said it was ten or more for you. would you say your practice up until now has also been very solitary? Yes, definitely.

i got the feeling. i can't cite the exact post, but i read something where you dove into your style of observational nuance, the aspects of strangers you take note of. And i immediately related, as someone who works the same way by instinct, but i found myself cringing. it felt like you were describing something deeply intimate about the creative process that you weren't supposed to put to paper. What I suppose i mean to say is that, after ten years of writing alone, how much do you still work to be understood by others? And to what extent?

Quite frankly, there are times where I feel like I don't really understand myself — maybe it's because I am only twenty-three, perhaps I haven't been human long enough yet to feel too sure on my feet. And I suppose, because of that, I do not expect anyone to understand me.

God, am I aware how it sounds so pessimistic but you know I do not mean it that way. I simply do not want to put unfair expectations on people simply because, in my mind, I was sure they, this person specifically, would understand me. If that makes sense? Plus, there are so many sides of us. I don't think we ever understand ourselves a hundred percent. So how could other people?

it's a strange juxtaposition to have that mindset and also be a writer and actor. someone might assume those are two mediums where the person is a vessel meant to relay an intent of some kind. to be comprehended, so to speak.

I think I do not necessarily want to be comprehended but rather offer something to other people — a minute of distraction, them feeling seen, or simply some inspiration. It's not to much about me but rather about them?

I remember something Margaret Atwood said in one videos. I saw it a long time ago so it's not verbatim, of course. But she said that once a book is out in the world, it's not yours anymore. No matter the message you put in it, everyone will interpret it as they want. Of course, it's better if they get what's written as you've written it. But you also have to accept that, most of the time, everyone will take what they want and leave the rest.

are you lonely? creating art as just an offering to the world sounds to me like the objective of someone who's either fulfilled in separate relationships or so lonely they've given up on escaping the feeling.

What other reason do people have to create art?

to be seen to some extent. to share a message that's important to them. to release something from within themselves. to process a color they're worried only they can see. or to just give a story to the world. no reason is better than the other.

I'm not lonely. But I do feel bored and stuck, though. Like I'm not living enough.

you do seem to cultivate some sort of Life Aesthetic from how you describe things. you know, black coffee and earl grey tea. classic music on a record player. violin and card games. russian literature, possibly in dog-eared paperback. the kids online would call it “dark academia”.

Yes, I love those and while I suppose what you say is true to a certain extent — I do love aesthetics as long as I make the rules for my own — I do not want to feel stuck in it. It would be hell, and it shouldn't be so serious. I love a variety of things — Nu metal, black leather, Barbie movies and animes like My Hero Academia.

it's odd how we only show certain parts of ourselves in different spaces. i don't think anyone reading your blog would peg you as a nu metal fan. i feel like i just uncovered a major scoop.

I supposed many of us feel like they need to have a more distinct aesthetic or some sort of brand. Even subconsciously so. I think, even if I didn't want to, there would always be different versions of me in my novels because I base everything on my feelings, me, places I've seen, people I've known. Oliver and his melancholy and need to live something, anything, is one version of me. If I were to write a book about a wanna be singer, it would also be a version of me, little me from the past who wanted to be a singer too. I think the version of me I put the most is my emotional self more than an aesthetic.

can you describe your emotional self?

Intense. Very often, I feel like my heart is too big for my body, you know. But it's also very important for me. If there's one thing that would make me more unhappy than to be overwhelmed by emotions, it's apathy. [Laughs] God, you must wonder what kind of weirdo you're interviewing.

no i'm actually quietly having an existential crisis in my discord server. this is very enlightening. is that something you think is present in the current novel you're developing?

Oh, definitely. I am really into stories fueled by the characters' emotional worlds. Oliver is a mess of self-doubts, of pressure to live something and feeling scared he'll never get to, of wanting to please at all costs. Wilhelm is apathy and the secret desire to let loose just to see what happens. It is safe to say I've always prioritized the emotional quality over the plots and events themselves.

i was supposed to have you introduce yourself. do you think you could maybe pitch your novel for new people?

My novel Thus Saith The Lord is set in Prague, in 1987. The story focused on a young student named Oliver, who's bored of his life and wishes for more in some sort of Bovary-way. He drops out and flees his monotonous home town in the countryside to move to a big city and finally live his life. Unfortunately, things do not turn out the way he hoped. Eventually, he ends up practically poor there and lonely and despises his new way of life. However, he goes on to befriend a guy who, with his connections, helps him integrate his Catholic school, thus pushing him to continue his studies. Once there, Oliver becomes morbidly fascinated by one of his classmates. What started out as a simple friendship quickly turns into obsession and desperation as the lines of morality become blurred.

As for me introducing myself: My name is Cassander, I am a twenty- three year old writer and aspiring actress from France.

assuming this draws a new audience to your blog and substack, what could they expect to see from you?

Anything in terms of medium — novels, poetry, short stories. Quite frankly, there's a melancholy feeling that permeates almost all my work. They can expect that already. As well as stories with immoral and horrible characters, intense emotions, terrible decisions, and existential themes. Do not expect anything tender or joyful, I've never been good for that sort of things.

and since you claimed you'd give yourself 10 years to write thus saith the lord, i feel like people are in for a pretty intense journey.

that's all i have to talk about. i could speak for much longer but i don't want to take up too much of your space. mind narrating my exit from this little room to close us out?

The teas had been drunk, and the conversation had died. Not an unpleasant silent, but rather the sort of satisfied ending, like after a good meal.

Clove got up. “That's all I have to talk about. I could speak for much longer but I don't want to take up too much of your space." They said.

A kind and polite ending to our conversation. Although it wasn't like I had plenty of people waiting at my door or a full schedule. I nodded, before walking them to the door. We exchanged our goodbyes, and as they walked away, I remembered these words by Shakespeare that I knew by heart:

“And whether we shall meet again I know not. Therefore our everlasting farewell take: For ever, and for ever, farewell, [trustees]! If we do meet again, why, we shall smile; If not, why then, this parting was well made.”

previous stop

#writeblr #writing community #indie authors #authors of tumblr #writers refuge interviews

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lilac-hecox · 1 year ago

Note

If you're still accepting Damien fic requests, maybe a camp au with a puppy love crush on one of the counselors (Ian or Anthony) and/or having a reciprocated crush on Shayne

I wrote this in the camp au that was written by @wow-ihateithere

Damien/Anthony and Damien/Shayne - Summer Camp

“You’re acting like one of your kids,” Angela says with a grin.

“Huh?” Damien says, coming back to his senses, turning his gaze away from where he had been watching Anthony animatedly eating with his campers.

“You’re staring at Anthony like a thirteen-year-old with a crush,” she adds, mimicking a love sick expression.

“Stop!” Damien says, feeling his face get hot. “I am not.”

“You are!” Angela says around giggles. “I hang out with the same age, but the girl version. I can spot a crush a mile away.”

Damien scoffs. That absolutely wasn’t true because if it were Angela would know that Amanda’s been into her since the beginning of summer, instead of being utterly oblivious.

“I don’t have a crush on Anthony,” Damien says more firmly, but his face gets red.

“Okay,” Angela says in a sing-song voice, going back to eating her lunch.

Okay, so, maybe Damien did have a small crush, but it’s small! It’s manageable! He just thinks Anthony is cute and funny. He’s good with the kids too. Damien finally accepts the crush on Anthony when he watches Anthony strip off his colorful camp shirt and toss it on the grass up beyond the shore. Anthony is muscled and lean and gorgeous in the bright light of the warm summer day. Damien watches as water splashes on to Anthony as he begins to wade into the lake, Anthony letting out a shriek as the cold-water splashes on him, Ian laughing from where he had committed the crime and swimming away before Anthony could retaliate.

“Mr. Damien! Come on!” one of his students yells from the water. “We need you for chicken!”

Damien smiles and peels off his own t-shirt as he wades into the cool water of the lake.

Damien catches Ian and Anthony kissing after one of the staff bonfires in the deep warm night of summer. They are sat together on the same log, Ian’s hands in Anthony’s hair and Anthony’s hands on Ian’s waist. They kiss urgently and fervently in the night, the warm glow of the fire illuminating them.

Damien isn’t crushed. He didn’t need Angela’s supposed ability to see crushes developing to realize that the two counselors liked each other, to see the momentum between them building like an unstoppable freight train where they were always meant to collide.

He vows to let go of his crush that day out of respect for both of the other counselors.

What takes him by surprise is when they do the camp talent show Shayne sits next to him while they watch the acts. How whenever Shayne laughs it is so bright and cheery and how more often than not, he’s looking at Damien to see if he’s laughing too.

Damien and Shayne’s talent is performing an improv skit together. They make it cheesy, making the younger kids laugh and the older kids roll their eyes and “die of cringe.” At the end of the skit Shayne gets down on one knee and then offers Damien a plastic flower, declaring his love.

The younger kids giggle, the older one’s groan, the other counselors crack up laughing. Damien accepts the plastic flower, and he sees Shayne smile with bright blue eyes crinkling in the corner, a big cheesy grin on his face. What takes Damien by surprise is the fondness in his heart, the way it speeds up when Shayne pretends to plant a kiss on his cheek, big, wet, and sloppy.

Angela gives him a knowing look from the stands and Damien pointedly ignores her.

It’s August when Shayne presses Damien against the side of the staff log cabin and kisses him in the darkness of the night. When he presses his nose against Damien’s and says, “I’ve been waiting all summer to do that.”

There are fireflies all around as Damien leans in and kisses him back.

#antmien #ianthony #shaymien #summer camp au #my writing #my fic #my fics #fluff #polysmosh #smoshships #damien bday prompts #summer love #camp counselor au #blink and you'll miss it amangela

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biolizardboils · 4 months ago

Text

Hey again.

I was saving this for when I'd wrapped some other stuff up, but it's taking too long. I'm just gonna say it while the words are fresh in my head.

The two-month break I've been on? I think I'm gonna stay on it. As in, stay logged off except on special occasions.

There's still things I want to finish here. I will answer what's left at @ask-the-all-consuming-void and bring it to a proper ending; The Secret Thing it was gonna segue into will go up, even if only as sketches and drafts; And there's another project I'm still helping with behind the scenes. But aside from those… I want to maintain my internet presence a lot less.

I've learned a lot about myself since I left: most importantly the hyper-empathy, compassion fatigue thing, and that being terminally online probably does more harm than help. There's trying to be a good, vigilant person, and then there's overwhelming oneself about things they can't control, with info that isn't always accurate. I've been doing the latter in different ways for years; late April/early May was a big wake-up call. Lesson learned: I've got to find balance, and I won't find it here.

The second-most important thing I learned is that… the reason I "joined" the internet in the first place? It's pretty much been fulfilled. Has been for a few years now, actually.

I made this tumblr in 2015, but I got my real start on deviantART and WordPress in 2011. Don't expect links; what people post in their preteens can stay between them and God lol. But I'll tell you what got me to make accounts: my confusion as a new Sonic fan. The way people talked about them, the way they talked to each other… it hurt to see.

I got it in my preteen head to set a better example. To not let my love for something become disdain for others of its kind. To explain instead of assume. And to assure anyone who'd listen that it's not shameful to like Sonic, that those who do deserve better, and that they could still have it better someday.

And now, 13 years later… we do. The hurtful stuff I saw back then is nearly gone now. When it does pop up, it's easier to counteract than ever. People realize how silly and petty and wrong it was, and can call it out accordingly. People can live a little truer to themselves, now that that shit isn't everywhere anymore.

I think that, specifically, is all I really wanted. Everything else—the reinvigoration of the characters and their world, the downpour in avenues once closed off by "cringe" and "not enough interest"—have been wonderful byproducts. I've been gassing up Sonic Movie 3 as the final step, but it's really more of a victory lap.

After realizing that, I just… don't feel the need to post so much here anymore. My self-worth and sense of morality shouldn't rely on what I do or don't type. I don't need to document every thought or choice I make and why.

The cause I've performed for since middle school no longer needs my time and energy, if it ever even did. I can just enjoy things in relative silence, and spend myself in other ways. Ways I've taken too long to get around.

Sonic Unleashed is what set me down this path. I watched it go from rejected at launch, to just divisive, to respected and beloved. I still wonder if, had it gotten a fairer chance, the current Sonic renaissance could've happened sooner.

But dwelling on that won't change anything. I'd rather dwell on how, this year, I got to scream Endless Possibility with hundreds of other people, loudly and proudly. No fear of who's watching, no need to self-sabotage. It meant the world to me.

There was a con in my area on June 23rd. I wasn't planning on doing anything that day until I heard about it. There was someone in attendance who helped me put a symbolic bow on this part of my life.

I think he did a wonderful job :)

I have one last thing to say before I go. That'll be its own post, so I can put it in the public Sonic tags.

Again, the stuff I've left hanging here will get finished eventually. But for now, this is goodbye.

Moots, followers: thank you so much. I will quite literally remember you all in therapy.

--BiolizardBoils

#me talking #fav #reminder #long #💙💙💙💙💙

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mins-fins · 6 months ago

Text

EPISODE 2 ❛ meliora ❜

𖥻 meliora.. is a latin adjective meaning "better", or a noun meaning "better things", "always better", or "for the pursuit of the better", it's first known use is from 1851 word count 0.7k

"I'm not trying to nag but can you like, speed up the process a bit?"

"You are nagging, shut up and be patient".

Minsu drops his arms to his sides, letting out a gasp as offense as Haru rolls his eyes at his misery, he would give a shit if he wasn't busy trying to force his way into the prinicpal's account. He has to find a way to make sure all of their information is altered, just so nothing from their previous case in Taiwan comes crawling back to them.

"You took less time hacking into that high end security database back in Tsuen Wan!"

"Forgive me for being tired" Haru snaps, his tongue poking against his inner cheek as he stares at his computer, when he hears another snappy remark from Minsu, he sticks his tongue out at him, giving him another eye roll.

"This would be much easier if we had just been given aliases like at the last university we went to.." Huifen walks over and places his chin on the older's shoulder, blinking at the log in page presented on the computer screen. "You try guessing the password?"

The question is a teasing one, Huifen trying to poke at the older by inquiring dumbly like how Minsu does. Haru sucks his teeth, gently pushing the grinning Huang away. "Of course I've tried that! But it's hard to guess what kind of password a grown man is going to have!"

"Do we know his name?"

The hacker leans back in his chair, humming at Siwon's question. "Lee Huicheol, he's been running the place for about fifteen years, took the position of principal after the former principal quit under mysterious circumstances" Haru makes sure to do air quotes when saying the last two words, he earns a few weird sounds from his teammates, who are clearly confused by what those last words are supposed to mean.

"Mysterious circumstances?"

"That's just what I heard, nothing else was said".

Yunseo narrows his eyes. "That's oddly suspicious".

"Uh huh" Haru turns back in his chair, cracking his knuckles out of anxiousness as he prepares to take another hundred guesses at his password before fully hacking into the system. "I'm about to smash this computer to smithereens" He mutters.

"Don't get worked up over some technology, Haru".

"That's kind of like.. my job".

Yunseo lets out a laugh at the joke, and the fourth eldest focused on his goal of hacking into the account.

"Try something weird like.. uh— sexy babes".

Haru cringes at the words from Ren, only deadpanning at him through his peripheral vision, he presses down onto the spacebar excessively in annoyance. "You're so weird".

"What? Some guys have strange passwords like that".

"Think you might be snitching on yourself there" Nicholas yells from another part of the dormitory, a shout which Ren is quick to respond to with his usual angry rebuttal.

"You wanna die, Pham?"

Huang Huifen watches as his fellow same aged teammates begin wrestling around the floor, trying their best to claw each other's eyes out. It's a callback to their old training, these two have always been much more into it than they should've been. "What are you doing?" Siwon deadpans at the sight, Minsu trying to hide his snickers behind his hand, clearly failing.

"Anyway.. they're not gonna figure out anything, right?"

Haru ignores the playfighting going on between his same aged friends, turning to the worried looking youngest, who is rocking back and forth on his heels as he looks over his shoulder. "How long have we been doing this? No serious authorities have seemed to be catching on, yet".

"And what if they do?"

Haru finds the question baffling, yeah Yunseo has always been the most sensitive of the team, but the inquiry is enough to have him furrowing his eyebrows. The youngest quickly notices his heavy stare, because he's quick to continue with sputtering words. "I mean like— what happens if they do find out about us?"

"We all go to jail, duh".

The blunt answer gives Yunseo just a little bit of a shock, but Haru doesn't spend enough time staring at him to see the look cross his features, he has no time for that.

"Pick up the pace Luther!"

All Haru does as a response is flip off his yelling teammate.

previous masterlist next

taglist 𓏧 ↳ @junjiie

#[ 🎬 ] SIGNED AGENT ZERO !#nct dream #nct dream au #nct dream x oc #nct dream imagines #nct dream drabbles #nct dream series #mark lee #huang renjun #lee jeno #lee donghyuck #na jaemin #zhong chenle #park jisung #original characters #male oc #𑁍 ࣪˖ 𓂃 isa's works!

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yueisyum · 2 years ago

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You and jeno?

Note: any questions? Lmk!!! Any suggestions?? Lmk! Any mistakes? Act like you don’t see them! 😚

“Have you ever noticed that mr bluck, never blows his nose? He just sniffs into his mic.” The voice came from next to you, taking your focus from your notes. You turn your head to a tall, keen boy, who’s placing his belongings down and going through his bag. He hasn’t looked at you but you know his statement was directed towards you. He’s been out for a while, so his presence shocked you. Especially since you two have never actually talked.

“What?” you question. Peering at him with the most confused face you could muster up. “Mr bluck? Our professor?” he reminds with a soft chuckle.

“No right, yeah, but… why bring it up?”

You realize a little to late that your words may have come off a bit offensive.

If they did, he wasn’t showing it on his face. “Just wanna make conversation.” He finished unpacking his things before turning his body towards you fully. “I cringe every time I hear him swallow his boogers-“ “-ew” you make an face that causes him to laugh. You shake your head, in attempt to redirect your mind back to the boy.

“Sorry, it was not my intention to put that image into your head” he continues to laugh at when your noes scrunches and your eyes narrow towards the professor, who’s taking a sip of his coffee. You both laugh in unison, causing other students to glare at you two.

“So since I’ve made you laugh, you’ll help me catch up on the week I’ve missed?”

“oh Is that what this is? Just needed the notes?” You ask teasingly, hoping he doesn’t think you’re actually offended. “No, not at all. I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while, I just finally had an excuse” he corrected, shrugging his shoulders, trying to act nonchalant. You watch as he looks away to open his laptop. And to hide his face from you.

“A while? How long is a while?” You ask, now turning your whole body to face him.

“Since you cursed that kid out in the beginning of the semester” he logs into his computer and turns back to you.

“That long?” You hold an exaggerated face.

“That long.” he confirms with a smile.

You to stare at each other for a moment. The silence was about to get awkward when he broke it.

“I have an idea”

“Really what’s that?” You peak at the clock, noting class was about to begin, you keep your attention directed towards him while opening your own laptop. “Me and my Friends have a study night every Wednesday, you should come, and you could catch me up on the book and notes there.”

“No way! I don’t even know your name, how do I know your not a serial killer?” You expressed, bringing your knees up to your chest in ‘fear’. He rolls his eyes and chuckles. You watch him ponder for a moment, but he keeps his gaze on you. “My names Jeno, and If I promise not to kill you, would you come?”

Jeno

It’s your turn to ponder. He’s definitely not a serial killer, and he seems nice…

“Pinky promise?” You tease once agaIn. Earning another laugh from him. “Pinky promise” he holds his pinky out towards you and you giggle. Placing your feet back to the ground, leaning forward to seal the deal. “Can you give me your number? I’ll text you the details” he suggested with his finger still intertwined with yours.

“Sure” you wear a bright smile on your face, it was contagious. The sun from outside was making him feel warmer then he already was. it almost felt like he was in a movie, or a book written by some lonely 22 year old. He leans back in his chair after you added your number to his phone.

You two make small talk the rest of the lecture and he was glad he finally found the courage to talk to you. What was he so scared of anyway?

•••

You triple checked the dorm number before knocking. Your bag in hand and your nicest comfortable clothes on your back. Your not sweating because your nervous, it’s definitely just because it’s hot in the mens building.

When the door opens you look to find a different boy then the one you saw in class. But you know this boy, your friends with him, you were surprised to see a friends face at the door.

Not jeno. But Johnny.

“Hey! Y/n? What the heck are you doing here?”

He questions. “Me? What are you doing here, this isn’t your dorm” you fire back. You drop your shoulders, now feeling more relaxed to see a familiar face. “Yeah? Well this isn’t your building!” He argues but his face full of playfulness. “Wait are you… the girl Jeno invited from his class? I didn’t know it was YOU” he makes a face, and you roll your eyes, failing to bite back a smile.

“Ha, and I didn’t know you study” you point to his chest. “I’ll have you know-“

“-hey! Y/n you made it!” Johnny turns to jeno behind him. “Do you two know each other?” He asks, looking between you two, your finger still at Johnny’s chest. “We’re family friends” Johnny answered, finally moving to the side to allow you into the dorm. “Oh really? Well I’m glad you’re already familiar with somone in the group” jeno smiles to you and you reciprocate.

“Yejuns here too” you hear Johnny inform from behind you, as you make your way into the hallway.

•••

He was glad you where here, he really was. But he hated that your eyes were trained into Haechan after introducing everyone. You barley even talked to him, you just watched him and looked at him. Even laughing at all his jokes.

He wasn’t jealous

He just wanted to study… yeah… yeah just that.

•••

He’s not bothered when Haechan told Jeno that he likes her after everyone left.

He’s doesn’t care that you two started spending a lot of time together. Even if it seemed like you two where always arguing, he could see the way you two look at each other.

He’s happy for you two, not jealous. Jeno doesn’t like you like that- does he?

It doesn’t matter because it’s obvious that you feel the same way about haechan, as he does about you. So for now he will remain your friend. That’s what he wanted anyway. Just to be your friend…

Note: want to see more into jenos mind? Or more about their friendship? Let me know!!

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ell-vellan · 1 year ago

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You know what I miss?

(I'm gonna show my age here with this very specific and niche memory but bear with me. Or don't, whatever!)

Back when I was a kid, middle/high school ish, I frequented Gaia Online. I'm not even sure how to really describe that site (if you remember it, help me out here) but it was mainly an anime-esque forums where people could make different communities about a million different things, but it wasn't just forums. You had an anime avatar that followed you around the site, a currency you used to buy dress up items for your avatar, mini games and a a marketplace. Pretty sure there was some kind of stock market.

This was my online home for years.

I landed, somehow, on the Adoptables forums. Shops, technically, for people to "adopt" pets and then roleplay with them together. Some were original make believe worlds - one of the more popular I can remember was a world of wolf packs with their own lore and setting.

Specifically I remember being active on the Lion King RP forums called I think Shadows of Africa? The artists who ran them would sell colored lineart of lions in the style of the movie, with a little info card that displayed their name and the owner (you).

You couldn't roleplay with other people until you officially had a character through purchase, gift, or contest prize.

Each lion was unique and people gave them names from African languages (that was a rule). People formed entire prides and had special forums just for them, with rosters of who had what character, where you could "hang out" with others in your pride. Your lion would be able to age from cub to teen to adult after you had roleplayed a certain amount of time and applied for it with the artists. Your characters could find mates and breed and the artists would (for Gaia currency) remix the "DNA" of your two characters and you'd get a random number of cubs you could "give away" to friends or even hold contests for others who wanted to play.

I was just thinking about these communities and how much I loved everyone there. How much work these artists put into these communities, often without any real compensation except for pretend money. How elaborate they were. Giant games of pretend with strangers online. I did SO much writing on those RP forums, I actually feel in retrospect like it was a safe place to cut my teeth on writing and it was literally from the point of view from an OC Lion King character.

And there were so many shops like this.

I'm sure there was toxicity in some aspects of these communities, but I don't remember it, at least not to the level of toxicity the Internet gets to now. Maybe it's my rose colored glasses.

But every Christmas, these Adoptables shops would open up for people to Secret Santa gifts to your friends: a randomly colored gift, the .jpg or whatever sent to your inbox, that you could post in your profile or your journal. And on Christmas day, the artists would update all those images, and the wrapped gift would be replaced by a unique pet, randomly created for you by whatever colorists were working for the shop.

Like YES okay I understand how very childish it sounds now. Maybe even cringe.

But I've never found another sort of community like it. (Maybe discord, idk, I was too old and busy to get into discord when it came out.) So many artists doing so much work, just for others to play with pretend pets with their online friends and write silly stories about them together. These were people making dozens, hundreds of unique designs by hand, as far as I'm aware. Their workload had to be stressful. They were probably doing this in between studying or working real jobs.

But to this day, every Christmas, I think about those Secret Santa gifts. And every year I miss that excitement of logging in first thing to see all your gifts 'magically' hatch into adorable little creatures that were unique and yours.

This post doesn't have a point except I'm in my mid-30s and I still miss my online friends that I used to play pretend lions with in middle school. And nothing else has quite matched the very specific excitement of those secret Santa gifts becoming 'real' on Christmas.

And I'm so, so thankful to all the people - likely college students and adults - who did all this work just for fun. And I wanted to share this memory of some old communities that I still think back on fondly. I hope they're doing well in life, wherever they are.

#sorry it's holiday season and I'm nostalgic #i realize gaia online still exists but it's not the same :/#you cant ever go home again really #gaia online #just millennial things lol #if you have any idea what im talking about PLEASE tell me bc sometimes it feels like a fever dream

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tpato · 3 months ago

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Old piece of writing that I dug up and thought it was deserving of a new life. I’m so in love with my yellow lab irl, so here’s my homage to my living and thriving little bestie. Enjoy, despite the cringe.

As I walked down the deserted highway, I was hyper-aware of every sound. I'd grown accustom to the faint pounding of my own two feet, as well as the tip-tap of the four dog paws that trailed me everywhere. I'd gotten used to the whistling of the wind in the empty, empty silence that usually filled the world around me. But I knew better than to let my guard down.

It's been a year since the official start to the apocalypse. It's been nine months since I've seen my family. Six months since I found out everyone I loved was either dead, or the living-dead.

Well, almost everyone.

The only thing keeping me company anymore was my little fury companion. This dog has brought me protection, comfort, entertainment, and a will to live. I have no idea what the infection would do to an animal, but I do not want to have to find out. I plan to protect this little guy as much as he protects me.

That is why, as I make my weekly trip into town, with him in tow, I'm paying attention to everything around me. I learned the hard way that it would be deadly to assume the creatures with the infection are stupid. They are not the most prime strategists, but they are not stupid. They will sneak up on you. And they know very well how to kill you.

It's still very worth the risk to venture into the deserted town for a clean slate of supplies. Even if they tend to conjugate there. So I slip into an abandoned gas station for what feels like the millionth time, and my heart pounds for what feels like the billionth time. I hate being trapped up in this small space. I make as quick work of this as I can.

I shove as many water bottles as I can carry in my bag, then I take some of the jerky from a shelf on my left. It was when I turned the corner to keep searching quickly for anything that could benefit me that my guardian sniffed the air hard and let out a soft growl. And that was my que.

I shoved everything that was in my hands into my bag, looked at my little follower to make sure he was with me, and ran out the door of the gas station, just to slam it right in the face of one of the more hideous of the creatures that I'd seen. I had rarely been more thankful for a companion with a keen sense of smell then I was in that moment. But we were far from safe.

I figured any commotion would've alerted all near-by creatures, so I took off running and didn't stop when I heard the reassuring sound of the four little paw pads. When I was sure we weren't being followed, I slowed down to a speed walk, and made our way back to "camp."

It was really just a makeshift tent made of a tarp and some string. I had two changes of clothes for myself, dry fire wood kept safely under the tarp, and three thin blankets. I used to have a small supply of food and water, but I seemed only to have replenished half of what I'd sent out to. I would have to venture back into town tomorrow.

Two of my three blankets were stretched across the grassy ground. I sat down on them and stacked a few logs into a small fire, while my furry friend curled up in my lap. I started a fire when the sun had almost finished setting. I was exhausted from my run all the way from town, so I get ready to tuck in early.

I sprawled across the blankets on the ground. The little animal assumed his place by my head, and I gently laid my head on his stomach. I curled up under the singular blanket left and slowly pet my guardian until he fell asleep. I cuddled him close and followed suit soon after.

#og writing #apocalypse #dog story #kinda cringe idk yall send help

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letmereadherbertwestfics · 1 year ago

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Combstober Day 8

Prompt: Campfire

Character: Mr. Brooks (I Still Know What You Did Last Summer)

Warnings: None

You had never understood why people liked to travel alone. Really, the idea terrified you. Being in an unfamiliar place with nobody else to share the experience with? What was so great about that?

But that was before this trip.

At the last minute, your friend got a violent case of food poisoning and had to cancel your trip to The Bahamas. While your friend had no choice but to not go, you couldn't afford to pay the fee it took to cancel your flight, and had been looking forward to the trip for so long that you couldn't bring yourself to cancel it. So, leaving your friend behind, you took the trip by yourself. And you had a fantastic time.

You still did everything that you and your friend had planned to do together, except without the stress and annoyance of having to drag someone else along with you. Sure, it was scary being alone at first, but after a night of hanging out at a poolside bar and then not having a wasted friend to drag back to your hotel room, your fears quieted down a bit.

And now it was your second to last night at the resort, and you were dreading the journey home. Not only because of all of the packing and preparation and the god awful boat and plane rides back to back, but just because you didn't want to leave. Not when you still hadn't gotten to talk to the mystery man behind the check in desk.

He was a few years older than you, cold and slightly rude, from what you could tell he was your average 'manager who hates his job but still runs the establishment like it's the Navy' types. And his name tag read Jay Brooks. And in your week and a half here, that was all the information you got out of him.

The two of you had exchanged nothing but casualties and a room key when you checked in, aside from his brief questioning of why the booking was listed as for two and you were only one, and whenever you smiled at him on your way to the pool he would react with either a dismissive stare or even an eye roll. But that didn't sway your interest in him in the slightest. If anything it only encouraged you to keep being pleasant towards him. Maybe before you left he would crack a smile. Or maybe not. Either way, you weren't going to be giving up.

Today the hotel had banners and fliers put up all over, advertising a bonfire out on the beach. There was going to be music, sparklers, and free drinks. It sounded like the perfect opportunity to waste an hour or two before heading back to your room, so you decided to go.

When you got to the beach you were only half surprised to see that it was thirty minutes past when the bonfire was supposed to happen and nobody had shown up. If there was one thing you noticed about the guests at this resort, it was that they kept to themselves. The karaoke machine at the bar remained untouched, and the pool was almost as silent as a library aside from the occasional drunk or unruly child. Finding out nobody else had decided to attend this party wasn't too surprising when you thought about it.

You were about to turn around and head back to your room when you realized there was someone sitting by the bonfire. And it only took a few more seconds for you to recognize the suffocatingly neat dress shirt and tie, and the annoyed scowl of Jay Brooks. This realization made your heart skip a beat, and you approached the bonfire a bit faster than before.

"Am I late to the party?" You asked, immediately cringing at how your voice sounded. Brooks looked up at the sound of a voice, looking you up and down before his gaze returned to the fire.

"Can't be late when there isn't an event." He said bluntly. You slowly lowered yourself onto the log across from Brooks, the bonfire separating the two of you.

There was an awkward yet slightly serene silence, the only sounds being the crackling of the fire and the crash of the waves. Brooks continued to stare into the fire while you stared at him, thinking you were going unnoticed until he interrupted your thoughts with a stern look in your direction.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer."

Though Brooks didn't look like he was joking when he said this, you couldn't help but crack a smile. You shifted your gaze to the sand, tucking your hands in your pockets.

"Sorry." You muttered. Brooks sighed, unsurprisingly going back to looking at the flaming logs.

"You're the one staying in the Junior Suite?" Brooks asked suddenly, making your head snap up. Before you could ask him how he remembered, he gave you a nervous, almost shy smile and explained without being questioned. "You're the first guest to smile at me in weeks. That made you memorable."

His words made your smile widen. Was Brooks, the mysteriously cold resort manager, actually being nice to you? He actually noticed your acknowledgement instead of brushing you off? The realization that you had read him all wrong made your heart beat just a bit faster.

Relax, Y/N. You don't even know the guy.

But you wanted to. That was enough to get you to push any anxiety or insecurity out of your mind and get you to move one log over, closer to Brooks. Once the two of you were sitting directly across from each other, you held out your hand.

#jeffrey combs #i still know what you did last summer #jay brooks #mr brooks #i will finish this #combstober is alive and well

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