#dance lesson videos for adults

[humanityinahandbag]

Steddie Modern AU: TikTok

Steve would absolutely be that guy who would not understand TikTok. He and Eddie are older by the time it comes out, and most of the content there is of young kids going completely buck wild. Steve of course disapproves, hands on his hips, huffing about no supervision these days even though he was absolutely a terror in high school.

Eddie, rock star that he is, gets it to an extent. "They're expressing themselves!" he'd say.

Steve would only shake his phone around and point aggressively to a video playing on loop of a young man dancing along to some new trendy song, trying his hardest to seem cool and popular. "This isn't expression," he'd say, mother hen voice at top volume. "This is them trying to peacock to the world!"

"You did that once, too, Stevie."

"Yeah, and I was a little shit!"

And so Steve, in an effort to curb the young teenage population and keep them from making his mistakes (mostly due to parental neglect and hopeless, crushing self deprivation), would start his own TikTok channel.

"Hey there," he says into the camera, because for all the pride around his good looks, he has zero clue how to record a video of himself. "My names Steve, and I've been noticing a bunch of you on here who are out of control! Listen to me, alright? You need to dial it back. All that shit in high school is completely null and void when you're an adult. Trust me. From a former popular asshole, there's better shit you could be doing. Now let me show you how to scramble an egg."

His videos mostly consist of simple lessons. Giving out little pieces of advice. Teaching them basic life skills he had to learn on his own. How to cook. How to clean. How to iron a polo shirt. How to style your hair. How to do laundry. How to do basic first aid.

He often becomes transparent, telling them about his own childhood.

Sometimes he brings Eddie into his videos.

"This is my husband's favorite," he says, by way of explanation as he shows TikTok how to make pasta sauce from scratch. "He used to eat spaghetti out of a can. A fucking can!"

Despite his posturing on stage, Eddie becomes shy whenever a camera is in his face, and ducks his head away, smiling quietly towards the camera. "It's not that bad," he says.

"Not that- The sodium in that could kill an elephant!" Steve laughs.

"Yeah, well... I don't want you doing too much for me."

"I like doing things for you."

Eddie flushes and ducks his head, hiding his face away behind a curtain of curls.

Steve leans over a kisses his temple, pushing him gently out of frame where he'll be more comfortable, before turning back to the camera. "Anyway, this recipe is great if you're on your own for long periods of time. Especially because you can freeze some for later. Now the trick here is garlic. Let me show you how to peel it without making a huge mess!"

It's a month later where Dustin shows up at their door and shoves his phone into Steve's face. "Why the fuck," he'd snap, "are you trending?"

It turns out, the tiny community that Steve had been lecturing to wasn't as small as he originally thought.

There are so many kids out there desperate for parental affection, and they look to Steve, feeding off his pride, his kindness, his stories, his advice. Not only that but the fact that they get to see a former bully, a former popular kid, a man who grew up from neglect, become someone happy and married?

That's just... so wonderful.

"I've been on TikTok from the beginning and I only have, like, two thousand followers."

"So what? I don't have that many."

"You've got three million, Steve," said Dustin. Steve was not expecting that, squinting at the phone screen in his face. "Three fucking million! People are stitching your videos saying you guys are their new dads," Dustin squawked. "How did you not know you were this popular!?"

"I didn't know how to check my follower count!" Steve said, sincerely. It wasn't like he actually checked the thing! He just enjoyed making videos.

"You're so old."

"Hey," said Eddie from the kitchen, "don't talk about your mother that way."

"Yeah!" agreed Steve. "Don't talk to me that way! Now get into my next video so I can introduce you to your three million siblings."

And that is why I firmly believe that, if given the chance, Steve (and subsequently, Eddie) would absolutely become the internet's favorite parental figure(s).

[biteofcherry]

Oooooooo! ✨The Babe Lottery ✨ so I'm gonna say Lloyd and hope I'll get someone I actually like 😉

✨✨✨

With one last deep breath of self-encouragement, you finally stepped into the large room lined with mirrors and bars.

People were already stretching and quiet conversation flowed, but none of it made it much easier for you.

It was your first time.

Ballet lessons for adults. Beginners level. Which should be less intimidating than it was. Perhaps, it would be, if you managed to secure a spot in the other teacher's classes.

From what you read online (and watched in a few tiktok videos), Natasha Romanoff's classes were a challenge, but she approached each participant with patience and near soft understanding.

Unfortunately, you were out of luck and the only spot left for this year was in Lloyd Hansen's group. As distracting his ass was in the tight dancing pants he wore, he presented a scary tendency of snapping from encouraging, bordering on inappropriate praise, to cutting mockery.

Still, trying out was something you've always wanted, but only recently found the courage to finally do it.

Sharing a nervous smile with another participant, you plopped down on the floor to do some basic stretching from the video you were sent after you applied.

A few minutes later your anxious heart found itself flushed with another spike of the bitter cortisol-adrenaline cocktail, as a voice cold like a bite of cracking ice speared through the air.

"Up and in position!"

You lifted your head, as did the others, watching a stranger stride into the dance studio with lethal grace.

But he lacked that suave cockiness Hansen seemed to oozed. He didn't need it to appear intimidating. An air of coiled danger surrounded him.

His eyes were a striking hue of blue sky drowning in grey. Locks of dark hair pulled back into a bun at his nape. His all black attire made the boldly colored tattoo on his left arm stand out more.

A star broken in half. One half a garish red, the other a white shining with silver glow.

"I'm James Barnes." He introduced himself sharply. "You may address me as Mr Barnes, and Mr Barnes only."

[dumbslxtclub]

you're on your own, kid | e.m - part twelve

eddie munson x singlemom!reader

summary: set after the events of season four, Steve has disappeared and is presumed dead in the upside down. broken and now left to deal with your pregnancy alone, Eddie takes it upon himself to support you to the best of his abilities in Steve’s absence.

chapter summary: as your relationship with eddie blossoms, the weight of truth reaches it's breaking point.

content warnings: fem!reader, adult language, adult themes, unplanned pregnancy, angst, hurt/comfort, some canon divergence/au, mentions of death, reader is 20, anxiety, heavy angst, fluff, no use of y/n, slow burn, brief mention of vomiting

word count: 10.8k+

a/n: some of this was inspired was inspired by the poem ‘i wish i were two dogs then i could play with me’ by anne carson. I apologise for the long absence, life has been crazy but I’m very proud of this chapter and I hope you enjoy! sorry in advance for the angst it’s about to get real. as always, shoutout to @dickfics69 for helping me xx

taglist: @lezzy-bennet @harrypotteranna23-blog  @reidstea @sashaphantomhive  @bexreadstoomuch @audhd-dragonaut @littlepotatobeansworld @ches-86  @tlclick73 @fckyeahlames @gnocchey @astrolockley @sidthedollface2 @micheledawn1975  @3rd-conchord @eddiesbabe95 @taintedcigs @harry-bowie-mercury @micheledawn1975​

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Part Twelve: Lovely To Sit Between Comfort and Chaos

Who knew scanning video tape barcodes could be so fun? An inherently arduous task made tolerable thanks to the warming weather, every monotonous motion laced with sun-soaked dopamine. The stale interior of Family Video is washed in a stream of sunlight, the clear sky leaving no interruption for the desired warmth.

The chill of winter has all but dissolved, the new season budding in blossoms dancing in lush trees and children without jackets in the park. But, beneath the surface, something more has begun mingling in your blood. Your veins are laced with the giddy joy of a new beginning, something fresh and exciting. Like the first pages of a good book, popping open a fresh bottle of wine. As with all beginnings, they have their own tonality, an addictive vibrancy that makes them so elusively special. Ebbing with firsts, ‘what ifs’ and unadulterated hope. Leaving you behind the store counter with a schoolgirl grin, completing the most mundane of tasks with enthusiasm. With every video returned into the system, another mountain forms as Robin returns to the front desk. She picks up the two latest additions from the pile, examining them with scrutiny.

“Woof. 9 ½ Weeks AND Body Heat? Someone had a big weekend.” She places them onto the steel rolling shelves, beginning to categorize the sections. Monotonous doesn’t even begin to describe the store’s activities, Robin falling especially victim to their dullness today. “Speaking of, did you get up to anything interesting?”

“Well, Audrey’s learnt how to chuck her bottles across the room. So I guess you could say things were pretty wild around my neck of the woods.”

“Guess I’ll cancel her pee-wee baseball lessons then.” She quips back, busying herself with the tapes. 

It’s a funny thing, dishonesty. How it sits on the roof of your stomach, digging its heels into your gut whenever it sees fit. You’ve elected not to tell Robin about your date with Eddie, nor your second kiss, for a myriad of reasons. As your closest friend, you understand that she is just looking out for you, protecting your vulnerable heartspace. With your connection to Eddie growing, complication is bound to follow. And in such a budding stage, it just doesn’t make sense to make a mountain out of a molehill. 

When you’d first approached her about your potential date with Andy, she’d responded in a similar manner, driven by protectiveness. But you knew, she could see an innate craving for something more than she could provide. It was only natural. Your new identity was tied to being a mother, full stop. It had been a long time since you felt wanted, attractive, desired. A longing to be wined and dined, treated like so much more than milk-providing breasts on legs. And she wanted you to get back out there, into the real world and away from your comfortable nest of motherhood. You are strong, Robin is well aware of this, fighting the urge to protect you and Audrey from the big bad world. Of course, hindsight is a funny thing, and she should have ripped Andy a new one before he had the chance to do anything stupid. To assume he was capable of being a decent human being for an evening was clearly expecting too much.

But with Eddie, it’s so different. Comfortable in ways you couldn’t articulate, you felt a sense of consistent safety you hadn’t experienced in a long time. Life has just become easier with him around, day to day tasks much more enjoyable in his company. And so, you’ve resolved to just dip your toes into the idea of it evolving into something more. It’s not so much lying as it is withholding the truth. 

With the final tape scanned in, you toss it onto the shelf, nearly bowling over Robin’s efforts in the process. She shoots you a warning glare before sighing, glancing melancholically at the clock.

“Ah, all that stands between me and a turkey sandwich is…” She picks up a video at random and glances down at it. “... Xanadu?! Oh my god-”

She drives the cart around the corner, cussing out the poor customer's choice in film. Smiling at her antics, you busy yourself tidying the cluttered desk. Taped to the monitor is a curated collection of film pictures Robin had Jonathan develop. The ultrasound photo still sits in prime position, with a copy of the hospital image below it. Another picture is tacked to the corner of the screen showing you and Robin cuddled up in bed with Audrey sandwiched between you, all in accidentally coordinating shades of blue. You remember that night, Eddie had dropped by after work and lost it laughing at the three of you perched in bed like the grandparents in Willy Wonka, quickly racing to the kitchen to retrieve Jonathan’s camera. Moments immortalized in stillness, energetic happiness radiating out of them.

So lost in the memory, you barely register the sound of the bell above the front door ringing.

“Late return charges got you grinning like that, sweetheart?” Averting your gaze, you watch as your babysitter of choice enters the store. Eddie shoots you a warm smile, one hand gently supporting the black carrier strapped to his chest. Audrey, pacifier in mouth, faces outwards with limbs dangling aimlessly in the confines of the holder. It’s hard to miss the small purple bow clipped to the crown of her head, something that was not part of her ensemble when you dressed her this morning. Like maneuvering his own personal puppet, Eddie picks up her limp wrist to wave it in your direction. The docile baby glances up at the metalhead with curiosity, seeking out the phantom manipulating her arm.

“I can’t rent you R-rated films with a minor present, I’m afraid.” You quip with a smile, pressing your palms into the counter.

“Shit.” Eddie points to the door, backtracking a step and glancing down at Audrey. “Let me just go and tie her up out front real quick, alright?”

“Please don’t tie my daughter up on the street like a dog.”

“Oh, I wasn’t talking about her.” Eddie grins. “But maybe we should lock in that date before we break out the ropes and collars, hm?”

His comment immediately causes your cheeks to flush, suddenly feeling stifled in your sickly green vest. Images of compromising positions flood your mind, notably featuring the handcuffs strung up in Eddie’s bedroom. An awkward chuckle escapes your throat, Eddie’s smile faltering at the sight.

“I- I mean… fuck, oh-” His hands quickly fly to Audrey’s ears, protecting her from his cursing. “- just, pretend I never said that, okay?”

“Not a chance. You’re never living that one down, Munson.” Your melodious laughter sets Eddie free. “Where’ve you two been today?”

“Y’know, just all of her favorite places. Had to head into the shop to pick up my paycheck, the guys couldn’t get enough of her. ‘Specially Bob, or Ed, I forget- he’s been going on about her for weeks so I thought if she visited he might shut up about it.”

“Using my daughter as bait? Classy.”

“You know me all too well, sweetheart.” He’s quick to catch the pacifier as it tumbles out of Audrey’s mouth, her face screwing up in disgust while he tries to feed it back to her. “Oh, and she met a dog today. It was a beast of a thing, a Rottweiler or something. Don’t think I’ve ever seen her so excited, she grabbed its ears and everything. Thought it might bite her head off. It did lick her on the face though, but I suppose that’s good for her immune system.”

“Sounds like you two have been on quite an adventure.” With Audrey now within arms reach, you lean over the counter to give her a kiss on the forehead. Her eyes light up at the sight of you, giving Eddie enough time to quickly shove the pacifier back into her mouth.

“Speaking of which… what are the chances of you getting work off this Friday afternoon?” His voice is hushed, and laced with an edge of the cheekiness you’ve come to adore. With a quick survey around the shop, you inspect to make sure Robin is out of earshot.

“I think I could pull some strings.”

“Good, good. I might have something fun planned for us.” Eddie smiles sheepishly, readjusting the weight of the carrier. “And, as much as I hate to admit it, I think Henderson might finally be ready to go solo with Squid.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah, I mean- I didn’t see anyone chewing on the electrical cords so that’s an A in my books.”

“Glad to see you’ve got high standards.” You tease, the grin on Eddie’s face only growing..

“I sure do.” 

-

Quick question, what the hell does one wear on a date? For your outing with Andy, Robin took charge of your wardrobe and crafted an outfit with complete ease. The stakes were lower, you suppose, not overly concerned with your appearance. But for today’s mystery date with Eddie, you’re finding yourself digging into the deepest crevices of your wardrobe for something that screams I’m trying, but not too hard. And, as fate would have it, nothing is jumping out at you. That shirt? Too old. These pants? Don’t fit anymore. Those socks? They’re Audrey’s, not sure how they got in here…

Huffing, you plant yourself on the floor in a nest of unacceptable garments. Your daughter sits peacefully in her bouncing recliner, gaze contently following your every move while she gums at her caterpillars antennae. Grabbing two half decent short-sleeve tops, you hold them up in the baby’s direction.

“What do you think, little miss?” Audrey continues her chomping assault, not at all interested in your predicament. You sigh, tossing the shirts into the pile of mediocrity. “God, it’s easy for you. You look cute in everything.”

Articulating your last word with a tickle, you drink in the way her mouth spreads into a toothless smile. She’s really beginning to grow into her own looks, her features forming beyond the universal blob baby look. Her hair is getting a slight wave to it, still comedically thick on her head. Pouty lips combined with her chubby cheeks give her maximum squishability factor. And as you look down at the mess of clothes covering the floor, you can’t help but cast your mind 16 years into the future. Rummaging through your daughter’s wardrobe in search of the perfect first date outfit, taking her to the mall just outside of town hunting down the dreamiest of prom dresses. It’s all racing by before your eyes. A spiral begins to form if you think about it for too long, so you quickly dedicate yourself to the task at hand.

In the end, you decide to keep it simple. A boxy button-up paired with some acid-wash mom jeans and a leather belt. Your hair is on its last legs before wash-day, so you elect to tame it with a bandana wrapped at the nape of your neck to hide the greasy mess. And Converse to complete the ensemble, because, you know, you don’t have all day. Your babysitter will be here any minute.

Dustin is smilier than usual, if that’s even possible. Grinning from ear to ear, watching you dart across the room with his hands on his hips. Making no effort to help you find your keys, but rather engaged watching your one-man Monty Python sketch.

“All ready for your big date?” The teenager articulates the last word with a suggestive raise of his eyebrows. It stops you in your tracks, shooting daggers his way and doing little to wipe his smile away. 

“For the last time, it’s not a date!” You lie through your teeth back to him. “I told you, we’re just going to hang out as friends. Adult friends. You know, without the presence of a baby.”

“Sure, sure. So, you got all glammed up for nothing?”

“Oh my god, I am not glammed up!” Glancing down at your outfit, you subtly worry that you may come off as trying too hard.

“I’m just saying…” Dustin throws his hands up defensively, the traces of a smile still playing on the corner of his mouth. “... you do look really nice, though.”

A humble grin makes itself known, abandoning your fruitless search to cross over to the younger boy. With figures like Steve and Eddie in his life, it’s easy to see where Dustin gets his chivalrous manners from. 

“Aw, thanks, Dusty.” Flinging your arms around his shoulders, you pull him in for a tight squeeze with the explicit purpose of embarrassing him. The teenager relents quickly, giving your back a firm pat as you hold him to you in a vice grip. Giggling at the way he squirms in your arms, you take a few wobbly steps to keep him locked into place.

Burrowing your face into his mess of curls, you allow yourself to indulge in the comfort of his embrace. He’s always been a cuddly kid, and perhaps you weren’t aware of how much you needed this until now. The pair of you stand there for a beat, allowing the moment to morph from playful teasing into genuine support. Two kids, sharing a history of pain, guilt and loss. Finding solace in one another, the older enveloping the younger and soothing whatever lingering ache burns beneath their collective sorrow. He misses Steve. God, how he misses him. 

It seeps through the pores of his fingertips, gently caressing your spine in small circles. As if, if you were to listen closely, beyond the dull hum of the refrigerator and the scattered bird calls outside, you could hear it. The tiniest voice, buried beneath unkempt curls, asking will it ever go away? And you both know the answer. It won’t, but you’ll learn to live with it. Together.

Biting back the swell of tears wetting your tongue, threatening to make themselves known, you refuse to crumble before him. Not today. Not on a day as happy as this. 

If it’s true that Eddie has little experience with dating, he sure as hell masks it well. With a handful of daisies clutched in his fist, he’s the epitome of confidence as he raps on your door three times. Claiming the flowers were for Audrey (and definitely not for you), he quickly shuts down Dustin’s insinuations before shuttling you out the front door to his chariot. He always opens the door for you, but the small gesture makes you giddy with girlish excitement. And as soon as he joins you in the dingy interior, positive the pair of you are out of Dustin’s prying eyeline, he leans over the center console to press a chaste kiss to your cheek. The brief contact causes your heart to skip, chapped lips meeting soft skin so casually it’s disarming. A calloused thumb brushing your chin, edging your face in the direction of him, drinking in every imperfection dancing across your skin in the fading afternoon light. Noses lingering inches from one another, wrinkles forming at the edges of his eyes preceding a Cheshire-cat grin.

“Ready for our next adventure?”

With a nod, clicking the gears into drive, the van rolls out of the sun-bathed trailer park and onto the winding roads out of town. It’s easy, the silence that exists between you while you tune out to the sound of whatever metal cassette is shoved into the car’s stereo. Pulling further and further out of the small town, away from the noise. The bustle of life, the judgemental whispers. To some unknown destination, where the two of you will be free to just be.

It comes into view around half an hour into the drive, sticking out like a sore thumb against the lush forest surrounding you. A kitschy, neglected sign with what appears to be a beaver toothily smiling down at you, waving its unoiled, mechanical arm at passers-by. Silly Putter Mini Golf. Pulling into the tiny parking lot, you study the loud canary yellow clubhouse building while Eddie clambours out of the driver’s side. It’s totally cheesy, down to the pathetically flickering lightbulb on the welcome sign. And you couldn’t love it more.

Swinging the passenger side door open, your date extends his ringed hand outward.

“Ready to get your putt on?”

With utmost ease, Eddie sinks the ball on his second shot. You could be mad at his seemingly god-given talent, but it’s hard to stay upset watching his hips sway like that in those dark jeans. Even at a children’s putt-putt course, he’s shown no interest in dressing more family friendly. Under your breath, you mutter praise to the inventor of muscle tank tops, now privy to the way his sinewy muscles flex with each stroke of the golf club. Occasionally, the handle of the club would clink against his wallet chain draped out of his pocket, drawing your attention back to his narrow hips. As far as you were concerned, you were a winner tonight, regardless of the scores.

“Yes! Gotta catch up, sweetheart. I’m beating you by…” He pulls the small scorecard out of his back pocket and grins. “... five points.”

Shooting a distrusting look in his direction, you pace to meet him on the prickly astroturf. 

“What?! I thought you said it was three?” 

Snatching the page away, Eddie holds it tauntingly above your head. He swings it around like a kite, mocking your stature while the only other family here passes by you with milkshakes in hand.

“That was before you hit the windmill twice on the last hole. Bit embarrassing, if you ask me.” He pokes, a shit-eating grin still plastered on his face. “Tell you what. You make this in less than two shots, I’ll call it even. Even throw in some fries afterwards, as a sign of good showmanship.”

A competitive energy charges through your body, a daring smirk playing on your face. Through your lashes, you challenge the metalhead’s smug demeanor, flirting with the notion of friendly competition.

“Deal.”

With a newly confident stride, you make your way to the fluorescent pink tee you’d picked out for yourself, placing the equally obnoxious green ball atop it. It’s a fairly easy set up, two small hills creating a valley that would lead you straight to the hole. A mechanical crocodile snaps out of the wall sporadically, directly in line to your goal, hinges chomping at nothing. You assume the stance, needing to bend over slightly to accommodate the child-sized putter you were gripping. The crocodile seems to be popping out every five seconds, and so you brace yourself until it begins its certain retreat. Drawing your putter back, you hear it click against the ball, knowing immediately you overshot it. The ball rolls over one of the bumps in the turf, into a direct line with the crocodiles elongated snout, sending it back in your direction with a pathetic tumble. 

“Shit.” You groan, attempting to tune out the smug laughter behind you. A tattooed arm comes into view over your left shoulder, pointing to the red flag sticking out of the ground.

“The holes over there, sweetheart.” Eddie quips matter-of-factly.

“Gee, thanks. What would I do without you?” Shooting daggers at your entirely too-smug date, you elbow him in the ribs before setting off in the direction of the ball. It seems your jab did little to quell Eddie’s laughter, who quickly catches up to you.

“Think you need to work on your form.”

“There’s a form needed for mini-golf?”

“Mhm, form I possess by the bucketful.” God, he’s a smug little shit sometimes.

Incredulous, you welcome his challenge with wide-open arms. “Alright then, genius. Enlighten me. Show me how it's done.”

Eyebrows disappearing into his messy bangs, Eddie’s doe eyes twinkle with boyish mischief, a prominent dimple playing deep into his cheek.

“Here.” Placing his hands on your shoulders, he maneuvers you in the direction of your goal, now partially obstructed by the protruding crocodile snout. “Line ‘er up.”

He angles himself around you, back pressed to abdomen, warmth emanating from the thin cotton of his shirt against yours. His feet shuffle to either side of yours, boxing you into his cradling hold. Snaking his bare arms along yours, starting at your elbow, each finger wrapping gently around the girth of your forearm. He lingers a moment too long, you don’t complain. Slowly working his way down to your wrists, locking his digits around the boney flesh. Breath on the nape of your neck, adrenaline pumping too fast for you to look anywhere but the lime-green golf ball at your feet. 

“That’s it…” His chest rumbles against your ribcage, coaxing vibrations of praise causing your fingertips to go numb. “Nice and gentle, okay?”

One slow nod is all you manage, feeling his gaze burning into your profile. You watch as the rusting reptile makes itself known against the fake grass, gaping jaws ready to foil your next putt. As it begins its retreat, you take a deep inhale, feeling your ribs expand against the comfort of Eddie’s sternum.

“Go.” Barely a whisper is required, his lips so close to your ear you can practically feel their plush sanctuary. In tandem, Eddie gently pulls your wrists sideways before encouraging you forward with perfect momentum. Metal meets plastic with a firm thud, propelling the ball forward. It rolls, and a collective breath is held. As if the future of the world hinges on this single stroke. Picking up sand and debris along the way, the bright sphere travels across the turf towards its goal. It hits the lip of the hole before tumbling in with a clatter, sending your arms skyward in celebration as you discard the putter.

“Yes!” Gleaming with joy, you spin on your heels to press a firm finger into Eddie’s chest. “In your smug, stupid face, Muns-”

Victory is swiftly cut short as an arm wraps around your hip, grip settling in the groove of your waist. You slot perfectly into the crook of his lean body, softness meeting strength entirely channeled into closing the gap between you. The sheer momentum of it knocks a sigh loose from your chest, clinging to the anchor of his chest with bunched fists entangled in his shirt. His free hand nestles beneath your chin, a firm thumb pressing and guiding your eyeline up to his. Eddie shines with pride. Smiling from ear to ear, shaking his head at your antics with pure amusement, feeling the contagion of your joy. 

Angling your chin slightly higher, Eddie presses his lips down onto yours with fervor. A blend of your two previous encounters, it’s passionate yet careful, a marriage of wanton desire and delicate care. You lean into it, drawing him closer by the cloth adorning his torso, chasing the taste of his kiss. As if to commit it to memory, to learn how it sits in your mouth and if the needy aftertaste ever dissipates. Muscles not just for decoration, but with the greater use of keeping you pressed intimately to his body. His thumb brushes against the groove of your jawline, dancing across the expanse of skin he is yet to be acquainted with. But there will be time for that later. Eddie is the one to pull away, a proud grin still plastered on his face.

“Good job, sweetheart. Ready for your prize?”

Food always tastes better when someone else is paying for it. The fries have the perfect crunch to them, the outer a golden brown against the fluffy white potato now filling your mouth rapidly. Eddie claims that they only came in a package deal with two cans of soda, but you have an inkling he may be lying about that. Your date watches as you shove the greasy food into your mouth, taking a long sip of his Coke.

“Looks like you’re enjoying your winnings over there.”

“Mmm-“ You mumble through a mouthful of starch. “Feels like there’s a birthday party in my mouth.”

Eddie’s brows furrow with amusement at your choice of words, shaking his mane of curls.

“Shit, actually, there’s something I don’t know about you. When is your birthday?”

Swallowing the thick mass of carbs, you slyly redirect your gaze to the quickly-emptying plastic basket before you, picking at a few deep-fried crumbs.

“Next week…” You pray to the heavens your admission was mumbled low enough for Eddie to catch it as some ambiguous month in the distant future. But it seems the years of heavy metal assaulting his ear drums has done little to subdue his sense of hearing.

“Next week?!” Theatrically, Eddie slams his soda down on the picnic table, likely taking off some of the tragic peeling paint in the process. He looks positively incredulous, brows raised to maximum height behind his bangs. “And you’ve been keeping this a secret, why?”

“I wasn’t keeping it a secret! I just didn’t think it was that big of a deal-“

“Not that big of a-“ Fingers splayed on the periwinkle blue wood, he braces himself forward with a deep inhale. “Sweetheart, now I’m gonna have to plan a big bash in less than a week. How could you do this to me?”

As if it’s the biggest inconvenience he’s ever encountered. Chuckling nervously, you wave your hands in a flurry before his deadpan expression.

“Oh no, absolutely not. Uh-uh, not happening.”

“But-”

“Eddie.” Your tone is firm, gaze boring into his. “I’m turning twenty, it’s not even an exciting number. Plus, I have a baby, in case you forgot. Not sure how many nightclubs would let the pair of us in. If it means that much to you, I’ll have you and some of the kids over for a movie. That’s my limit, though.”

Eddie huffs, resolving himself to defeat. “Fine. No strippers, then.”

“Oh, now that you mention strippers…” A grin takes over your face as you waggle a fry in his face, likely sending salt fragments onto Eddie’s shirt. Before you can bring it to your awaiting mouth, he swats the perfectly good fast food out of your hand, sending it catapulting to the ground for some poor, underpaid teenager to clean up later.

“Party in your mouth, huh?” He quips, stealing the larger of the two potato sticks stuck to the paper lining the basket. He pops it into his mouth with a grin, shooting you a suggestive look.

“You’re the worst.”

“I know.”

The energy between the two of you is so, so easy. You sip your cool soda, indulging in the sugary carbonation clinging to your teeth. Eddie does the same, studying a terribly constructed pyramid situated on one of the holes. No pressure to speak, or not speak, just basking in the glow of one another’s company. The air is cool under the downlights, a mild spring evening setting the scene for what a true date night should look like.

“I’ve gotta ask-” You begin through a mouthful of food, somewhat unceremoniously. “- how’d you get so good at mini golf? I just wouldn’t expect you to be the kind of guy to spend his free time at a place like this.”

“Ooft, judging a book by its cover, are we?” Eddie places his drink back on the picnic table, grinning beneath the fluorescent snack bar sign. 

“Oh, never. Heavy metal and putt-putt go hand in hand, as far as I’m concerned.”

Eddie shakes his head, grinning while he peers down at the condensation accumulating on the metal can.

“I, uh- I used to bring Dustin out here.”

“Dustin? Really?”

“Yep.” There’s a loaded silence between the pair of you, something that isn’t uncommon as you exchange stories of your past. “After, um- y’know, everything happened. He kind of… shut down. A bit like you did, for a while. Didn’t want to play DnD, or see anybody, really. So this one day, I just drove over to his place and dragged him out of bed saying ‘C’mon, butthead. I’m taking you outta town’. He kicked up a bit of a fuss, but I just sort of army-marched him out the front door. We drove around for a while, not really talking and stumbled on this place. He shot me that stupid grin of his for the first time in forever, so we came in. It sort of became a weekly thing after that, and I hate to admit that I actually enjoyed it after a while.”

Swirling a fry around in too much ketchup, your meal is all but forgotten as you find yourself enthralled by Eddie’s recollection. That all too familiar pang of sadness returns, regret manifesting quickly in your body. You wish you were there for Dustin. You should have been. You wish you were stronger earlier, able to provide him with the care he so desperately needed. In the past few months, you’ve watched the teenager really step up, busying himself with baby books in order to be the best ‘uncle’ he could be. He’s a close second behind Eddie when it comes to making Audrey smile, lapping up every second he gets with her. God, Steve would be so proud of him.

“He’s a good kid, even if he’s an annoying little shit sometimes. And Steve…” His thought trails off, running his finger around the edge of the soda can. “... Steve was good for him. Gave him someone to look up to, a role model sort-of. Almost like a big brother, I guess. So I didn’t mind running around a shitty mini-golf course with a creepy beaver sign if it made him happy.”

Abandoning your meal, you reach across the table to take Eddie’s hand in yours. The tips of his fingers are cold from the refrigerated beverage, and you wrap your palm around the icy skin with warm reassurance. 

“You’re a good man, Eddie.”

Eddie’s lips curve into the most imperceptible smile, humble and felt almost entirely inward. For a fleeting second, he wonders if that could be true. 

Eddie was meant to drive you straight home. The roads were quiet at this time of night, no traffic bar the occasional truck making its way in the opposite direction of the small town he unfortunately called home. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this full. Not literally, of course, given you guzzled down the majority of hot food before he had a chance to get to it. But it didn’t matter, not the slightest. 

He felt proud. 

Proud while he watched you dig through the bucket of tees, looking for the perfect Barbie pink one that wasn’t chipped or dirty. Proud of his excellent golfing form, thankful for all the practice he’d gotten through restless evenings with Henderson. Proud of the way you jumped up and down, hands raised to the heavens as you sank your shot in half the time it had taken you on every other hole. Proud of how he scooped you into his arms, like every cheesy rom-com he’d had the displeasure of watching. Proud of the part he had to play in your happiness. Proud to be seen with you.

He was meant to drive you straight home.

He had every intention of doing so. 

Satiated with pride, he could resolve to spend the remainder of his evening grinning stupidly to himself in the isolation of his room. The humble home across the trailer park suddenly feels closer, anyway. Until, your hand snaked its way across the center console onto his thigh, your touch feather light but the weight heavy. For a brief moment, he wonders if you reached for something but overshot, a simple mistake. And then, you linger. Fingernails scratching the course denim clinging to his legs, shockwaves sent down his skin with every delicate stroke. Absent-minded. Loaded.

He knew the stakes had just been raised.

The two of you had been close like this dozens of times before, particularly in your pregnancy. Eddie never saw the need for one of those pregnancy pillows advertised on late-night infomercials, when you apparently saw him as the perfect substitute. Back then, those exchanges meant almost nothing. A tiny back scratch here and there, drawing small circles on your forearm while you dozed off with your entire body weight pressed to his shoulder. Thoughtless interactions, designed purely to comfort and set you at ease. The familiarity that has perhaps always existed between the pair of you, now morphing into something new.

Thumb smoothing the faded-black material, tiny rotations etched over and over.

Hypnotic.

The bravery that overtook him was phantom, ghostly desire edging his knee ever so slightly further in your direction. As if to say please, don’t stop. I’m right here. His eyes remain firmly locked onto the dark road, using only the occasional streetlight to guide his path. Besides, he doesn’t need to look at you to feel your gaze on his cheek. Not that he could bring himself to, if he tried. He wonders if he blacked out earlier. Got hit in the head with a rogue club and passed out, ascending to a heaven in which he would be fortunate enough to experience such a sensation. Heart pounding in his chest, he lets out an unsteady exhale as your fingers snake deeper into the groove, caressing at more sensitive flesh. Inward, where the skin is far more sensitive. 

Eddie isn’t a greedy man.

Until he is.

“Baby…” The foreign pet name slips out as a moan, barely perceivable beneath the soft hum of the cassette’s tune filling the car at a low volume. Somehow, in those two syllables alone, he crosses a line. Bares his soul to the wolves, knowing well the potential ramifications, the bloodshed that follows vulnerability.

The digging of your fingernails into the meaty flesh at his utterance is his breaking point. The green light he sought out. With cautious fervourency, he pulls off the road quickly, wheels clattering along the asphalt excuse for a truck stop. The car is quickly clicked into park before the metalhead can cognise it, tearing the constricting seatbelt off his body. Your hand never leaves its spot.

Turning to you, wide-eyed with want, he pauses. Gives himself whiplash from the flurry of activity leading to the sudden stillness. It’s intrinsic, no need for words anymore. Redundant wastes of breath.

His lungs hitch, adrenaline pulsing in the tips of his fingers. 

Can we?

Lips parted ever so slightly, a rise of your chest and dazed fluttering of eyelids answers.

Yes.

It’s not clear who lunges first. What is clear is how your bodies instinctively shape around one another, quick to absolve the space between you. Lips collide with lips, desperately seeking respite. Wanton moans are pulled effortlessly, fistfuls of hair tangled in clammy fingers drawing the two of you impossibly close. Imperfect fumblings as shirts are clutched desperately, fueling the fire burning in the pits of Eddie’s stomach. The pace is entirely unsteady, soft brushes bleeding into firm tugs of teeth piercing tender flesh with just the right amount of force. Embarrassing, unadulterated need at the forefront of every motion, and neither of you cared. God, it’s almost perverse. How Eddie corrupts something so soft, so sweet, with every fevered kiss. Like he’s tainting you with his taste, as if he could lap enough of you up and absolve his unworthiness. The likelihood of that working is slim, but god damn Eddie is willing to try. 

It’s still not enough. 

The plastic console separating you is driving him mad. He needs to be able to grab, clutch, caress every square inch of you with no obstructions. You make him bold. 

Bold enough to slip his wandering hand beneath your far thigh, the smallest hithering motion enough to feel the weight shift above his palm. Unceremoniously, you clamber over the glove box after unclipping your seatbelt, haphazardly swinging your foot into the horn. The beep echoes through the isolated rest stop, a mumbled apology being quickly swallowed by Eddie’s lips. Blindly guided, he directs your knees to either side of his hips, showing no qualms with the limited driver’s side legroom. His hands find your hips, tentatively hovering above his lap, shaky thighs taking the brunt of your weight. With small, caressing circles of your hip bone, he soothes you as he always has. Encourages you to share the pressure, begging to be the bearer of it. No wrong answer, only whatever you’re comfortable with. Perfect the way you are. 

Ringed fingers press gently into the small of your waist, drawing you closer still to his body. This seems to encourage you to relent to your tiring muscles, finding solace on Eddie’s tense thighs. A safe distance, but so close to danger. To unbridled want. Neither of you care.

Eddie’s eyes flutter shut as you speckle kisses along his cheek, dancing down his jawline and finding sanctuary on his neck. Nipping slightly at his pulse point, he can’t help but squeeze a bit tighter. Relishing in your exploration, mentally mumbling Hail Mary’s for his good deeds from past lives that lead him to this euphoria. A gasp escapes his throat as you latch onto a particularly sensitive spot, causing his hands to seek refuge on the meat of your hips. He squeezes, eliciting a similar wanton moan that vibrates against his stubbled skin.

“Is- is this good?” A sentence loaded with various meanings tumbles out, his grip loosening slightly. 

“Mmm.” You murmur, tracing the familiar trail back along his jaw and to his aching lips. “So good. So good to me, always.”

A knot forms in the pit of Eddie’s stomach. So good. So good. For you. That’s all he’s ever wanted to be. It fucking underscores every day, trying to do right by you. Constantly trying. He lives for it. For the smiles, the exhales of safety, the reassurance, the comfort…

It’s gotten him more hooked than a drug ever could.

So why. 

Why can’t he accept it?

The praise, the love, everything you dish out effortlessly. But to want and to deserve are very different things, the latter being something that Eddie factually knows he is not entitled to. 

It returns, a tidal wave of despair crashing over his heart, encasing it in a riptide of emotional debris and darkness. The taunting ticking of the second hand that haunts him constantly, the grip on his happiness slipping…

“Hey.” He gasps out, ringed fingers grazing your cheek as he pulls away. So close still he can see the flushed-red outline of your lips, the blissed out expression in your eyes quickly morphing to concern.

“Shit, you okay?” You pull back, brushing a loose curl out of the frame of his face.

“Yeah, ‘m fine.” A stabilizing breath does little to quell the erratic beating of his heart. “Just- maybe we should, like, take things a bit slower? I- I just don’t want all this to be too much, too fast.”

Brows furrowing slightly, it’s hard to miss the minute disappointment reflected across your face.

“Oh. No, yeah, of course.” Letting out an awkward chuckle, your unoccupied hands take to fidgeting with your now-loose blouse. “Sorry, didn’t mean to get carried away…”

“No, no-” Eddie reassures, a smile growing on his sore lips despite the gnawing ache in his chest. “Fuck, you were- it was perfect.”

A bashful grin cuts through the nerves etched into your skin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” God, you make him too bold. Cradling your chin between his thumb and forefinger, he dips forward to steal another miss from you. “Just want to do things right. Be a gentleman and all that.”

“You? A gentleman? Since when?” You poke.

“Since always.” The tone returns to easy as always, if not charged with a certain afterglow of electricity.

“So, what’s the next step in the courting ritual then?”

“Dunno. Guess I’ll have to pull off a grand gesture of some kind.”

Thursday afternoon, counting down the minutes until the clock strikes 5pm and frees you from this grind. Happy fucking birthday to you. 

Robin has been fussing over you non-stop for the past 24 hours. Apparently, a little birdie told her about your upcoming birthday (something you’d diligently kept private), sending her into a frenzy. She insisted on at least taking you out for dinner to celebrate your birthday at Benny’s, and practically stuffed her version of appropriate birthday attire into a duffle bag this morning for you to change into post-shift. In all her festive glory, she returned from her lunch break with a pink-frosting covered cupcake and tried to involve no less than three customers in a group rendition of Happy Birthday that was less than successful. And despite the unwarranted theatrics, you can’t deny your gratitude. Seeing how she dotes on you, dedicating her every movement that day to your happiness. And frankly, it’s not dissimilar to every other day. The love, the care that the two of you feel for eachother simply heightened for your first day of your twenties. Luck has never been a word you’d use to describe your life, but today, it feels fitting.

Keith has been goaded into closing the shop up solo tonight, Robin sparing no detail of the utmost importance to this diner dinner. She’d also arranged for Eddie to bring Audrey along, clocking in around 12 total hours of unpaid babysitting and a bushel of brownie points. Then, once the grown-ups have hung out, some of the younger kids will bike to the trailer park for a late-night movie. Spending the remaining hours of your birthday with everyone you love.

The small bathroom cubicle adjoining the workroom is cluttered with makeup and clothes, the two of you primping yourself in privacy. Tonight’s outfit of choice appears to be a band tee, tied at the waist with a flowing maxi-skirt, clashing in your mind but makes sense to Robin, apparently. To level the playing field, she dug out some of your nicer boots for the occasion. Internally, you worry for Audrey, and how it’ll be once Robin realizes she has two life-sized Barbie dolls to dress up. But secretly, you like it. It feels very you, whatever that means now. Comfort meets expression, an identity crafted beyond Mom.

Smiling at yourself through the rusty bathroom mirror, Robin swipes on her mascara.

“How do you feel? Older and wiser yet?” Robin asks, eyes bugged out in concentration.

“More of the former, I’d say.” You chuckle.

“What about the outfit? I felt pretty proud of it, very rocker-chic meets fairy princess.”

“It’s great, Rob. All of it.” Lips pursing together in an emotional smile, you drink in the image before you. You look your age. No dark circles or fine lines present, concealed under just the right amount of makeup. Hair just the way you like it, not confined to a three-day-old ponytail. You recognise her, from another life. The girl you used to be. And she’s so happy to see you.

Robin shoves the mascara tube into her tote bag, throwing it over her shoulder. “Ready to hit the road?”

With a nod, you hold the door open for her, the imposing fluorescents of the video store coming back into view. 

“Oh, nearly forgot. We’ve gotta make a pit stop along the way, if that’s alright with you?” Following her trail, the two of you burst out the front doors and into the brisk evening towards your Pinto.

“Sure.” You reply. “Just lead the way.”

“Robin, where the hell are we?” Glancing around one of the seedier streets of Hawkins, you shrug your handbag a little closer under your armpit and remind yourself that you did, in fact, lock your car. It’s fairly innocuous, an assortment of goods shops and a vintage record store, but you’ve never ventured this far into the heartland. Robin is a few paces before you, studying the signs of various closed businesses along the road. Her face lights up as you approach one particular building. 

“Bada-boom.” She announces with a proud grin, stopping in front of a large, black building. The paint is sun-faded, lined with scratched-off band posters graffitied with lewd scribbles. Against the dark sky, your only indication of the name etched into the doorway awning comes in the form of a passing car blaring its lights.

“The Hideout?” It rang a bell, yet you could not work out for the life of you what the two of you were doing here. “Dude, is this a nightclub? It’s a Thursday!”

“Not exactly…” Her brazen smile makes you slightly nervous. “More of a live music venue. I’ve just gotta pick something up from here, then we’ll be off to dinner. ‘Kay?”

“Alright, maybe I’ll just wait outside-” “No!” Robin quickly clears her throat. “I mean- I’m not leaving you out here on these mean street all alone without me to protect you.”

Shooting you a bright smile, you have to take at face value that she’s being entirely serious right now. Locking her arm through yours, she urges your unwilling feet further to the entrance.

“Is it even-” Answering your half-finished question, Robin pushes open the door to the venue, the interior pitch-black. “Are we even allowed to be here?”

“Yes, dingus! Just c’mon…” Once again, you’re placing literal blind faith into your closest friend. She might as well have tied Eddie’s bandana over your eyes as she did at Christmas, nothing but the slightly sticky floor beneath you to guide you forwards into oblivion. Her arm is your liferaft, swimming through pitch-black waters towards god knows what. In the distance, you hear a strange scuffling of feet, not belonging to either you or your co-worker. It sends chills down your spine, suddenly feeling very out of your depth. It’s disorienting, and totally alien.

“Seriously, Robin. Can we-” Your hushed tone is directed to the girl beside you, who stops in her tracks. You plant yourself beside her, the strangest feeling of being able to make a figure out through the void before you. A fleeting moment of movement, another shuffle of shoes on tacky wood ground. 

And in the flash of an eye, brightness burns your retinas, momentarily blinding you. It forces you to squint, a desperate attempt to identify these unfamiliar surroundings. A spotlight of sorts bears down on you before Robin quickly releases you from her vice grip and jumps to the side. But as one sense is returned, another is quickly abused, a raucous sound brutalizing your eardrums.

“Surprise!” Numerous voices call out at the top of their voices, unable to be individually dissected amongst the barrage of confetti poppers bursting into the sky. As your eyes grow accustomed to the warm spotlights around the venue, you make out familiar shapes. A mess of scruffy curls buried beneath a baseball cap. Two young boys with arms slung around one another jumping up and down, perfectly manicured bangs flinging haphazardly. The flash of a camera you’d borrowed months ago. There’s only a few of them, but their energy fills the space tenfold. 

And, at the center, you see a lean figure with a Kirk Hamlett haircut raise a squirming lump high above his head, not unlike a certain Disney movie that wouldn’t come out for another good eight or so years. Eddie, in what can only be described as his best cut-off band tee, proudly holds Audrey high above the group, her chunky legs bunched up to her body as she looks around entirely confused. As the last syllable of their celebration dies off, as if on cue, Audrey’s face screws up in a dramatic pout, a loud cry echoing through the venue at a volume the others only could hope to have achieved. Eddie’s face quickly transforms to worry, eyes squinting with embarrassment.

“Oh, fu-” Eddie quickly lowers her, cradling her head towards his collarbone. “Shit, didn’t mean to scare you, Squid.” 

Shushing her and pacing a step towards you, he bounces your baby from side to side. Her cries begin to lull, her fist tucked tightly at his clavicle for emotional support. Likely giving his neck a few scratches from her razor-sharp fingernails, she clings to the neckline of his shirt like a spider monkey, pulling it down with a subdued whimper and revealing one of his tattoos.

“Eddie? What-” You’re stunned. Shell-shocked from the sudden onslaught of sensation and attention, closing the space between you and the metalhead.

“How’s this for a grand gesture?” Spinning on his heel, Dustin rushes over to present a frosting-covered monstrosity on the bar. The icing is baby pink, with large globs that could be letters on top, with a handful of mismatched candles shoved into the floury concoction.

“Ta-da!” The younger boy grins, fixing one of the especially lop-sided candles. “Sorry it’s nothing special, I didn’t have much time to work on it…”

“You- you threw me a birthday party?” You ask, wide-eyed to Eddie.

“Ah-” He raises a finger, readjusting the subdued baby in his arms. “A surprise birthday party. In case you missed the keyword over the little hellraiser's scene-stealing cry.”

That familiar feeling returns. Overwhelmed by love and eyes solely on you. A small pile of presents sits on one of the bar tables, along with a few cards. Far more modest than the endowment you received from the group months earlier. Smiling faces, slightly tentative as they attempt to interpret your expression. But that thumping in your chest is not from anxiety this time. It’s from an overflowing sense of gratitude. 

A teary smile takes over your face, rushing to embrace Eddie and Audrey in a tight bear hug. The baby nestled between you burbles and squirms, and you raise your lips to the shell of Eddie’s ear to whisper a heartfelt “thank-you”.

The party is in full swing. Of the faces huddled in groups around the intimate venue, you initially only recognise half of them. Mike, Lucas and Will order root beer from the bar under Eddie’s strict supervision, not wanting any wasted minors on his track record. Dustin and Erica are engaged in a heated conversation with a few older boys, each of them wearing shirts printed with the name Corroded Coffin. You’d only crossed paths with them a handful of times at campaign nights, but they shared Eddie’s welcoming nature, trying to involve you in their conversation about elves or something. Nancy and Robin were trying to liven up the dance floor, which mostly involved Nancy swaying to the beat and Robin putting on a full-scale musical number around her. With Audrey not in the arms of any of her allocated babysitter’s arms, there was only one place left to search. Jonathan was taking a picture of the group in the adjacent booth, El and Max grinning either side of an unfamiliar face. His long, dark hair proved most entertaining for the infant on his lap, a glazed-over expression dancing in his red-rimmed eyes. 

“Woah, woah! That’s not for playing with, little dudette. Try this instead, I know it keeps me entertained.” From his Hawaiian shirt pocket, he pulls out a small set of keys, passing them to Audrey’s greedy fingers. She squeals, flinging the keys up and down in delight.

“God, she’s so cute.” El gushes, smoothing her pint-sized overalls over her legs.

“I know, right. She looks so much like Steve, it’s insane.” Max affirms. “Alright, Argyle. Quit hogging her.”

The redhead scoops her hands around Audrey’s waist, bringing her up to eye level with a cooing expression. 

“You know they’re born without kneecaps? How gnarly is that?” Argyle states, turning to El with complete sincerity.

“No way that’s true.” Max shoots the older boy a signature dead-pan look, readjusting Audrey in her arms, who is now getting a good amount of drool on the keychain.

“Swear on my life! I read it somewhere, they’re born without propellers.”

“You mean patellas?” El corrects.

“Yeah, that’s the one! Or maybe it’s dogs I’m thinking of…”

It’s beautiful, watching over your own party as a voyeur. An event that has brought together all of the closest people in your life, the common thread being you. It makes you sick with love.

“How’re you enjoying the event, sweetheart?” Eddie’s voice reaches you before he does, a glass of tan-colored liquid in hand.

“It’s perfect, really.” You reply with a grin. “All that’s missing are the Jell-o shots.”

“Gonna treat us to another Flashdance number?” Cheeks flushing over his statement, you stammer a response.

“How- how did you…”

“Don’t think I’d forget a spectacle like that.” He winks, a devilish grin spread across his lips. “Livened up that night’s dealings, that’s for sure.”

It’s strange, remembering a time before this. A time when Eddie was just a face in the crowd, Steve the undisputed King of Hawkins, and you with no clue what the coming years held in store. It feels like a lifetime ago, and simultaneously feels like an eternity you’ve spent with this eclectic family by your side.

“Getting on the beers tonight, Munson?” You tap a nail against the edge of his glass teasingly.

“Nah, confiscated Henderson’s root beer for my own selfish purposes.”

“You’re not gonna have a celebratory drink with me tonight?” Eddie shakes his head.

“Don’t think so, sweetheart. Sounds a bit cliche, but I feel weird drinking around Squid. Just don’t want to be the kind of guy who does that around a baby, makes me feel like my dad or something.”

You swear your heart swells to three times its normal size. He might be the most considerate man you’ve ever met.

“Besides…” Eddie continues, pointing to the Hellfire boys. “... don’t want to be a mess on stage for the grand finale of the night.”

You gasp, mock excitement written all over your expression. “Strippers?!”

Eddie shakes his head with a laugh, wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

“Maybe later, if you ask nicely.”

He did it.

Eddie pulled it off. From the house-shaking rendition of Happy Birthday, to the (in his humble opinion) absolutely killer set courtesy of Corroded Coffin, to shuttling the younger kids home before the bar opened to the public. He fucking did it. He did good.

The dingy bar is now filled with the usual patrons, the bouncers not bothering to check the ID’s of the occupants inside who could pass for being over 21. Last he saw you, you were dancing arm in arm with Robin and Nancy, screaming Everybody Wants to Rule The World at the top of your lungs. He’d never seen you so free, so vibrant. Moving like no one was watching, twirling and laughing and holding your friends. Just as you deserved to be. A twenty-year-old for one night, before another 364 days devoted to being a mom.

The cool breeze is welcoming, soothing his warm skin under the clear night sky. Stars swimming in the endless expanse of night, delicate kisses of light kissing the pitch-black veil. He can breathe. It used to be suffocating, looking up at the infinite nothing. It would clog Eddie’s throat, choking him in bleak nothingness. Wrap him in a coat of terror, a black mirror designed to play back every fateful mistake of his miserable life. Now, it welcomes him. And he isn’t afraid to embrace it. Baby steps, learning to love the dark parts of his being.

In his arms, he rocks Squid back and forth gently. She’s long since dozed off, the burden of being the life of the party clearly hung too heavy on her tiny shoulders. On her ears sit the smallest fluffy earmuffs, an investment courtesy of Dustin just for tonight. She was the best little groupie he could have asked for. At one point, Robin brought her onstage and placed her feet on the ground, bopping her up and down to the music. The crowd roared, and she giggled and squealed like she was the headliner act. Might have shown the band up, honestly. Eddie didn’t mind.

He’s getting better at stealing moments with her. Giving into his need to dote on her unabashedly. He could stare at her for a lifetime, and that wouldn’t be enough. He needs to imprint in his mind the way her eyelids flutter when she sleeps, commit to memory the O-shape of her mouth when she lets out a sleepy yawn. He wants to record her laugh, keep it forever. He wants every waking second to be dedicated to her.

“Have a good night, Squid?” He mumbles, lightly stroking the bridge of her nose. “Not bad for your first party, eh? Just you wait until your birthday. All of this will look like child’s play.”

Squid wriggles restlessly, burrowing into Eddie’s chest. Against his sternum, he can feel the rhythmic rise and fall of her breath, the tiny grunts of sleep deep in her lungs. It makes him grin like a mad-man.

“Y’know, I’m gonna let you in on a secret.” He readjusts her carefully in his arms, hushing his tone slightly. “I think- I think you and your mom are the best things that have ever happened to me.”

His words hang heavy in the still air, the empty alleyway the only recipient to his confession.

“Can you believe I was scared of you? Of these tiny hands-” He tickles her palm with his pointer finger, the baby clasping around it instinctually with unbridled strength. “- and these little feet. God, I’m pretty stupid, aren’t I? You can tell me, I won’t be offended. But, I’ll tell you something, just between you and me. There are much scarier things out there. And I’m not talking about monsters or alternate dimensions, although I do promise to protect you from that, cross my heart.” He raises his free hand to his heart, as if the sleeping infant would know any different.

“In this big, bad world, I think the scariest thing is to be alone. And I’m gonna make sure you never feel that way, if I can help it.”

Eddie is rambling, word vomit spilling past his lips faster than he can contain it. No scapegoat of weed or alcohol to blame his honesty on. He gently rocks Squid back and forth, the motion soothing both of them. 

“Y’know, I know you’re not mine. But-” Teeth bite down on the inside of his cheek, fingers pulling down her overalls. “- I dunno, it kinda feels like you’re mine in my heart.”

With a deep exhale, Eddie allows his honesty to wash over him in all its brutal glory. Knee-buckingly raw, and he leans into it, for once. Allows the love to pump through his veins with every beat of his cynical heart, waking up parts of him he thought were gone for good. But the moment of solitude doesn’t last long before Robin comes barreling out of the back door, almost crashing into the nearby trash cans.

“Shit, sorry. Did I wake her?” She apologizes, sloshing her half-finished gin and tonic onto the pavement.

“Nah, you’re in luck. Squid’s out like a light.” He pulls out another milk crate, beckoning the tipsy liability over. “Having fun in there?”

“Yeah, yeah- I am.” It’s a half thought, words dancing on the tip of her tongue not ready to be spoken yet. “The kids get home alright?”

“Eventually, had to drag most of them out by the end. Henderson wanted to hide in the bathroom and then ‘blend in with the older crowd’.”

“Wonder where he learnt that one from.” Robin smiles, nudging the metalhead.

“Hey, don’t look at me. Wasn’t my doing, for once…”

“Mmm…” She replies, taking a swig of her mixed spirit. Staring down at the lime slice, she swishes the glass around as if deep in thought. Glazed eyes laced with melancholy, radiating off her being.

“Something on your mind?” Eddie asks, angling his body more in her direction.

Robin’s mouth screws up as if she’s tasted something bitter, unable to bring her gaze to meet the man before her. But he doesn’t need to look her in the eyes to see the tears swelling on her waterline, quivering with her next sentence. 

“We have to tell her…” Her voice is barely louder than a whisper, suppressed anxiety trickling in with every syllable. 

Eddie feels his blood run cold, the familiar pang of dread hanging low in his stomach. He shakes his head defiantly.

“Not tonight, Rob. Please…” The plea is firm, fraying at the edges. Not ready to face the inevitable.

“No, no. Not tonight, but it needs to be soon.”

“Can we please not do this right now?” Eddie doesn’t mean to be so forceful with his words, but fear is a powerful thing. It poisons his blood, pushed further through his system with every erratic beat of his heart.

Robin’s eyes continue to well up with stinging tears, her grip on the glass tightening. “The guilt is eating me alive, Eddie. I just… I don’t know how to do it.”

Eddie sighs, desperate to keep what little control he possesses. 

“We need to do it the right way, got it? You, me, Henderson and her. We can all sit down and…” Robin runs her hand through her hair with exasperation at Eddie’s suggestion. Even the gentlest of options sounds like a monumental task. “Just give it a bit more time…”

“There is no more time!” She retorts, her volume loud enough for her to quickly glance down at the sleeping baby to make sure she didn’t wake her.

Eddie stands up, readjusting Squid in his arms. He’s doing his best to stay calm, and not let the inevitable spiral begin, a fruitless battle. “I’m not doing this right now, okay?”

The liquid courage is working wonders on Robin right now, standing up to face the metalhead eye-to-eye. “Don’t act like you don’t feel the same way, Eddie. You know as well as I do that she has a right to know.”

Eddie’s mouth is open and ready to voice another stern reply, when it’s interrupted by a meek voice behind him. The soft tone does little to soothe the ache growing in his abdomen, not daring to look over his shoulder at the source. 

“I have a right to know what?”

Haze. 

Disorder. 

Stumbling your way through the overbearing smog flooding your consciousness. Gripping to the worn sofa in your living room like it’s a buoy, the only thing grounding you in painful reality.

It’s fragmented, the onslaught of new information cluttering your mind, unable to be sifted through logically.

Owens.

Lowering yourself to the ground, you’ve lost all faith in your legs to keep you upright. Sea legs giving out beneath you, collapsing under the weight of a burdened mind. You quickly put Audrey in her bassinet the second you arrived home, stepping back from her small body like she was made of fire. Delicate, precious, amidst the crumbling ruins of life.

Found.

No. 

No, you need someone to cling onto. Polyester beneath your fingernails can never compare to flesh and blood, pumping with life and hope and comfort. Oh god. Craving arms, muscle and sinew engulfing your body, soothing and shushing like you’ve done with your baby countless times. Desperate for the luxury of kindness.

No one to dote. 

No one to care. 

No one to witness the mortifying pain of existence. 

No one to observe the torment they cursed you with in the first place.

Steve.

Crawling up your throat like bile, burning your esophagus as hot lava. You’d welcome the respite of vomit, the substance of it, the satisfaction of exorcism. But no, the painful tar claws its way through your tract, bringing biting tears to your eyes. Hell manifesting in your being. Truth collapsing with a heavy hearted I’m so sorry, bouncing off the walls of the narrow alleyway while you retreated. Words spilling out helplessly from your loose tongue, rage of betrayal driving every consonant and syllable. To never see you again, let alone speak to you. 

The loss of everyone, everyone. Robin, Dustin, Nancy, fuck- Eddie. They all knew. They coaxed you through the loss, never allowing for hope to breed. Lies built on mountains of lies, a shamble foundation of friendship. Arms that held your daughter with gentleness and altruism, seemingly all fabricated. Tainting her with every touch, every smile, tongues bleeding as they bit back the truth. Too numb to cry, to even indulge in the agony of feeling.

Beginnings are special, because most of them are fake. Artificial and man-made, entirely composed of brain chemistry and justifications. The person you become after your first glass of wine was already there, fretting below the surface of your facade, chipping away at the mask you present to the world. They never left.

You are at the end of beginning.

[riotouseaterofflesh]

You can wave a white flag; you can be an old woman or a newborn baby or someone else who visibly poses no threat whatsoever; you can be an Israeli hostage calling for help—if they see you, they will try to kill you. The five-month massacre in Gaza is not collateral damage, or an unfortunate side effect of the war against Hamas. There is no war against Hamas. Just this. The only military objective is to kill piano teachers and poets.

What I find really unbearable, though, what sticks in my throat like a clammy marble of rage, is the combination of mass murder and smugness. Israeli soldiers keep filming themselves committing smug atrocities. There’s one video I can’t stop thinking about: not even close to the worst thing the IDF has done, but maybe the most galling. An Israeli soldier stands in the ruins of a classroom in Gaza. He pulls a framed certificate off the wall and smashes it. He takes the time to erase the lessons from the chalkboard. Big man! How brave, this soldier encrusted in body armour and grenades! How heroically you defend yourself against a room where young children learn to read! But that really is exactly what he thinks. He thinks he’s being brave. Standing up against the oppressors of the Jewish people. Refusing to walk meekly into the gas chambers. He even writes it on the now-erased board: עם ישראל לא לפחד; the people of Israel aren’t afraid. Elsewhere Israeli soldiers posed in Gaza’s parliament building, grinning like they’d just taken the Reichstag. What a victory! This murderous ratissage into a city that’s been under Israeli occupation their entire lives, and their parents’ entire lives too. Then they planted dynamite around the building and blew it up. The entire country is mad off this stuff, and I do mean mad: saucer-eyed, loony. Israel’s foreign ministry shrieks like a funeral drunk whenever any government dares to raise an objection to its killing spree. Spain is Hamas! Ireland is ISIS! The whole world is made of Hitler! They also think they’re being brave. A lonely voice for justice. Confronting a cruel world with its complicity. At the Kerem Shalom crossing, protesters draped in the Israeli flag dance and sing and block aid shipments from entering Gaza. More famine! More disease! More stillborn children! They think they’re being brave too. The arctic glint of righteousness in their eyes. Even the more liberal sectors of Israeli society are getting in on it. Someone who was in Tel Aviv recently told me that most liberal Israelis don’t really have the emotional bandwidth at the moment to care too much about Palestinian suffering. They know what’s happening just down the coast from Tel Aviv, but it doesn’t register. They’re still in shock after October 7th, still worried sick for the hostages, still mourning the dead. It’s too early to worry or mourn for anyone else. The person who told me this didn’t think this Zone of Interest-style sociopathy was a bad thing. He didn’t understand why I found it so hideous. In a way, it’s also brave. It takes courage to let yourself really feel what you’re feeling, to sit with your grief, to admit that you hurt. It takes courage to be so emotionally complex. Not like the barbarians on the other side of the fence.

This madness is not limited to Israel. Everyone remembers being bullied at school. Even celebs, film stars, supermodels, beautiful and charismatic people, all seem to have had a hard time of it when they were kids. Some people build the entire foundation of their adult life on having been bullied as a child. You were such a misfit, you were so interesting and different… But nobody seems to remember being the bully, and I promise you that at some point in your life, you were also the bully. I certainly was. I couldn’t comprehend the senseless sadism of the kids who’d gang up on me, back when I was seven years old with dyspraxia and a speech impediment. What had I ever done to them? How could anyone bear to be so cruel? But somehow, all that stuff went out the window as soon as I encountered anyone lower down the totem pole than I was. My cruelty wasn’t senseless. Other people had been cruel to me, which made me a victim: anything I did was, by definition, fighting back, being brave. After all I’d been through, didn’t I deserve to experience the joys of power? Just a little? As a treat?

[adaine-party-wizard]

so i teach at an adult dance studio but sometimes we’ll accept private lesson requests for minors (if the instructor is okay with it and the parent is there to supervise), anyways im probably gonna be giving private lessons to this 14 year old who’s in Glee and wants to get better at dance for those sections of the show and i looked up videos (to get a better sense of what the choreo they do is and what she’s maybe aspiring to) and like. my heart is so full. its so cute seeing these teenagers just so earnestly giving it their all. i remember being a teen and irony and being too cool for things was all the rage and like here’s a bunch of teens who aren’t too cool for glee and i love it so much

[444m777]

29 things I love about Michael: Day 29

Where do I even start?

Well first things first HAPPY BIRTHDAY MICHAEL!

I spent the majority of the day watching a bunch of MJ videos, edits, performances and I got the bright idea to read several MJ books at the same time🙃 so in between switching from my phone to books I’ve been also crying and wishing he was still here not for the fans but for his children so he could physically be there for them and watch as they grow older and more into who they’ve always been but as an adult. My heart goes out to his kids and family.

So on the 29th day (and I missed so many days after the 19th or 20th) I want to say that his essence is what I love about him. Everyone’s essence is unique to them. Some try to copy but we can tell when someone’s trying to be someone they’re not. Which is why he cannot be replicated. And he shouldn’t be. What we are left with is his legacy and as fans we must preserve it in its entirety. Not just the music and dancing but also who Michael was as person. A true humanitarian who wanted to protect children all over the world. Providing a space(s) of comfort for everyone. Reminding people that they’re not alone and that together we can truly make changes in our own communities and the WHOLE world.

To make up for the days that I didn’t get to post brief sentences on why I love Michael for the days I didn’t get to post

Day 20: he was vegetarian but he loved him some KFC. I myself have dabbled in veganism/vegetarianism throughout my adult life but CHICKEN when fried oefff… that’s tough to let go completely haha

Day 21: his complicated relationship with dogs… I know he didn’t like dogs because they turned on him and some dogs bite etc. but I just love how he loved his half wolf half german shepard dog called Black Girl. She was abused by her previous owner and Michael and Janet tried their best to be gentle and gave Black Girl lots of hugs and kisses when they were younger. I’m a dog person so I was a bit sad he mentioned being afraid of dogs and mentioned dogs turning on him BUT Black Girl was sweet and gentle and Michael made sure to take care not to trigger her (unlike other people like his Father who used to point his gun at the dog—yikes!).

Day 22: also love that he was so curious about the universe and why things (meaning a leaf, space, insects etc.) were the way they were. I want to go more in depth about this at one point because he was just naturally curious as most kids are and he continued to indulge that curiosity as an adult. He asked a LOT of questions. Something I used to get told as a kid “that’s just the way it is!” but I didn’t let that stop me. Reading/researching truly keeps me going for hours and hours. You just get lost at every new bit of information and he was huge on that. We truly can learn so much from his approach to life

Day 23: I’m also reading a book about Prince lol and of courseeeeee I’d find Michael in it. Long story short in the introduction Prince mentions how he wants his memoir to be written and doesn’t want to use the word magic to describe him/his music. He said “just look at a word and see if it’s one I would use. Because MAGIC isn’t one I’d use. Magic is Michael’s word. That’s what his music was about”. It’s true. It truly is Michael’s word.

Day 24: I’ve been struggling with my drawing. Like my lessons are going fine but when it comes to drawing Michael I’ve had really nice moments and other WHO TF IS THAT!? moments xD and i came across a video that showed roughly 200 drawings Michael did. There were I think about 10 ish drawings I haven’t seen before. And I noticed he would do light sketches and go into realism to more abstract and self potraits. Not everything was perfect. And by perfect I mean like super clean. I struggle with that at the moment and I love that his drawings reminded me that I’m doing this for fun. And to trust that when I draw something I’m proud of I should rejoice and when I draw something I’m not too happy about it then I can try again another time. He’s re-drawn so many of the same characters in varying styles over and over again. I mean he’s been sketching for DECADES so I've only been drawing for what 10 days🙃 it was a nice reminder to gently tell me to chill out haha.

Day 25: I love how big of fanboy Michael is when it comes to his idols and the greats he learned from and also having the chance to meet some of them. I’ve been thrusted down a small hole and have been busy collecting info regarding his idols. Seeing the patterns, the inspirations and just trying to get a feel for what fascinated him so much. Aside from their great talents/showmanship you are also expressing one of your highest forms of yourself so I want to see more of what he saw in them the same way I see and feel about him.

Day 26: this one is a bit sad as I really feel he was snubbed from acting. It’s very clear that becoming an actor was the next step in his plans. From a very young age. It’s sad roles were promised then suddenly given to someone else. Audition tapes not considered and even having a shitty meeting with the person who’s going to play the character you were promised to play just to get some sort of rise out of him. At least that’s why I think that person did that and set that meeting up. Anyways I’m just so happy that he chose to invest his own money in Moonwalker and made it happen. I always thought I’d see more of him on screen and we were robbed by a lot of jealous people and people who felt he wouldn’t add anything aside from the fact that he’s famous. He still continued to pursue it in smaller ways and I hope in the next lifetime he’s able to be the full fledged actor he’s always wanted to be and directing and writing movies left and right!

Day 27: his music is truly healing and positively affirms a lot of great things. I’ve kept track of affirmations in his music from the Jackons up until Invincible. I struggle with anxiety and would repeat some of the affirmations throughout the day or when I wake up in the morning. I make sure to be grateful and I affirm a good and positive day with one his lyric affirmations. I’ve used affirmations before but THESE stick with me because it’s Michael lol but he truly was ahead of his time in so many subjects that people would and WILL be baffled when they find out. He was a SMART, curious man. And very big on positive thinking and positively manipulating the subconscious mind.

Day 28: I love how he was pro-Black. His message was very much UNITY of all races, backgrounds etc. but he reminded people that he was proud to be BLACK. People love to forget that part.

[rainisawriter]

Dragophire Empire – S.W.O.R.D (ITYc1)

༻ITYC Ficography༺ ༻ITYC Tag༺

Genre: Comedy, friendship, slice of life -> fantasy au

Word Count: 4,581

Pairing: None

World: High&Low

A/N: So, I wasn’t sure how to write this and I’m not sure if I’m happy with it, but I hope it makes someone laugh or smile, at least haha I may expand on this later, who knows. Written for the @itropeyou challenge.

I Trope You! Challenge #: 1 – Genre Shift

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Murayama entered the gym of Oya Kou, beelining for the stage that sat at the back of the room. He hopped up before falling onto the sofa beside me, excitement dancing in his dark eyes. “Guess what?”

“You finally decided to be an adult, get a job and leave Oya Kou?” I quirked a brow at him and he pouted. 

“Not even close.”

“Yeah, something like that would never happen,” I snickered. “You’ll be at this school even as an old man.”

“So will you!”

“Yeah probably.”

A moment of silence passed by as we stared at each other blankly.

Finally, I scowled. “Are you gonna tell me or nah?”

“You broke first, I win!”

“I’m leaving.” I started to get up off the couch but he grabbed the back of my shirt, yanking me back down. Before I could insult him, he finally answered.

“I found a really cool video game store during my walk today.”

“A game store?” My brow furrowed. “Those still exist? Don’t most people just buy their stuff online these days?”

“Mostly, yeah, but you’re missing out on some great titles that way,” he clicked his tongue, waving his finger at me. “Listen up, kid.”

“I’m older than you.”

He ignored the comment. “There are a lot of gems out there that can’t be bought online because they no longer exist.”

“If they no longer existed, they wouldn’t be at the store, either.” I pointed out, making him scowl.

“Yah, I’m trying to teach you a lesson.”

“Your lessons are shit. That’s why everyone at Oya is dumb as hell.”

“Oi!” Nakazono glanced up from where he was sitting below the stage, a scowl on his lips. “We’re not all dumb, ya know.”

“You’re right,” I agreed, taking in the satisfied look on his face before adding, “Todoroki is pretty damn smart.”

His expression fell to a displeased scowl again and I snickered, proud of myself.

“You’re such an ass.”

“If you’re not an ass, are you even an Oya student?”

His lips parted to retort but then he paused, thought about it for a minute and nodded. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

It was Murayama’s turn to scowl now, smacking my shoulder. “Will you focus for two minutes, please? This is important.”

“How is it important?” I leaned back against the couch, arms folded over my chest.

“Because we can find a new game to play that no one else is playing.” He paused, turning his head away and mumbling under his breath. “I was hoping it could be our special thing.“

My heart warmed at the words. He and I have been best friends for years, connecting after he and Cobra first fought. He was my brother at this point, but we didn’t spend as much time together as we could. He was always busy dealing with Oya drama and keeping the younger ones out of trouble.

Meanwhile, I’ve been working a lot lately so I could keep my apartment and still offer money to the Oya kiddos so they could get things they wanted. Admittedly, we haven’t been spending much time together lately, so it makes sense he would come up with something like this.

I knew I wasn’t meant to hear the last bit so I sighed dramatically, pretending to be annoyed. “Fine, I’ll go with you.”

He grinned, eyes lighting up.

“But you’re paying.”

He clicked his tongue, folding his arm over his chest. “Fine.”

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It was mid-autumn, the temperature dropping with each day that passed by. There weren’t many trees within the city, but the few that had been planted were already bare, their colorful leaves pooled at the bottom of their trunks. The world felt more alive, more magical during the fall season and I absolutely adored it.

I couldn’t wait for Halloween, especially since Daruma’s Halloween festival was always top tier.

I pulled my jacket tighter around my body as I headed in the direction of the store. Murayama was already waiting outside, nearly bouncing on the balls of his feet as he peered through the glass.

“It’s about time,” he scowled at me, not waiting for a response before he darted into the store.

“And I thought I was impatient,” I scoffed, following after him.

No one was inside the store so it was eerily quiet. It reminded me of those old movie rental stores but, instead of movies, it was all video games for varying consoles, many of which I had never even heard of before. Murayama had been right when he said these things were gems that couldn’t be bought online.

A lot of my free time was spent browsing game lists, looking for interesting titles to save up for. Though I was picky and didn’t have a large library, I could name a lot of games simply by the description or by screenshots, but these games? I had never heard of any of them.

I hummed as I scanned the shelves, looking for anything that caught my eye though nothing did. Some of these names were insane, too.

Rocket Sizzlin’.

Killa Y.Q.Q.

Woman the Beaver.

Teenage Direction.

The Marvelous Enigmas.

Okay, that last one wasn’t bad. Feeling curious, I picked it up and turned it over. It was a pixel game about these sentient blobs of slime trying to pass for normal human beings. My nose wrinkled and I returned it to the shelf.

I wasn’t a big fan of older games and I don’t like pixel games. I prefer games with amazing graphics that make you feel as if you can jump through the screen and enter it. I like worlds that are so rich, you get lost in them, feel as if you’re part of them. Games that make you forget about the boring, mundane life you actually lead.

“If that’s what you’re looking for, child, I have the perfect game for you.”

I blinked in confusion at the old man standing a few feet away. He was short, the upper half of his body hunched over a cane as if it were the only thing keeping him on his feet. His head was mostly bald, with just a few strands of thin white hair placed at random spots. His mustache and beard was long but the hair was thin.

Where the hell had he come from? Why hadn’t I heard him? And how the hell did he know what I was thinking?

“Did I… say all that out loud?” I wondered, though I was sure I hadn’t. 

“Part of it, yes,” he chuckled, peering at me through small, dark eyes. “You were mumbling to yourself. A bad habit, I might add.”

“Oh,” I frowned, rubbing the back of my neck.

“Come, child. Allow me to show you the game you desire.” He waved his hand at me before slowly turning and hobbling away.

I highly doubted he would give me a game I enjoyed but I didn’t want to be rude so I followed him. He was so slow, though, taking five minutes just to make it to the other side of the small store.

Murayama poked his head around one of the shelves and snickered, clearly enjoying my annoyance. I flicked him off and he faked an offended look before disappearing again.

The man took a title off the shelf with a shaky hand, holding it out to me. I couldn’t help but notice how boney his fingers were, as if there was barely any skin left to cover them. “I believe you will enjoy this.”

I took it from him carefully, reading the title. “The Five Grim Kings.” Okay, not a bad title at all. I hummed, flipping it over to read the description. “‘The Dragophire Kingdom was once a prosperous nation united under one banner, but peace can not last forever.'”

He nodded, closing his eyes.

“‘The nation started to fight itself, splitting into five different factions, all of whom were vying for power and control. While they threaten to destroy themselves from within, a new power has risen from the darkness with the intent to destroy all of them.’ Huh, that sounds strangely familiar.”

The man nodded again, a frown on his lips. “They fail to realize that they are stronger together. It is your job to unite the five factions and destroy Kaxarene.”

I hummed with interest. It didn’t look like it was that old, either, the graphics looking pretty decent on the case. It was hard to believe that it was a PlayStation 4 game. Why wasn’t this listed on the website? I bet loads of people would enjoy this.

The game was ripped from my hand by Murayama who wrinkled his nose when he looked at the cover. “I didn’t know you were into medieval RPGs.”

I shrugged a shoulder, snatching it back from him. “They’re fun to play sometimes.”

“I found something better,” he grinned, holding up two copies of a game called Cosplay Rubber Duckies.

“You have got to be kidding me…” I deadpanned, making him scowl.

“Don’t look at me like that! It’s a really complex battle royale MMO where you fight against others to take control of the mind stone and rule the world.”

“The mind stone? Isn’t that a Marvel thing?”

“They don’t own the term, idiot.”

“You’re the only idiot here, idiot.”

The old man chuckled, a twinkle in his eye. “Will you be purchasing the game, then?”

I considered it for a moment before nodding. “Sure, it sounds interesting. I’m not paying for it anyway so I have nothing to lose.”

Murayama scowled, remembering that he had agreed to pay. “It better not be expensive.”

“Doesn’t matter. Oya Kou’s leader can’t go back on his word.” I snickered, shoving the game against his chest before approaching the counter.

He clicked his tongue in disapproval as he followed after me. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Lucky? I think you mean unlucky. You’re a pain in the ass.”

“And you’re rude as hell. It balances out.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.”

The old man finally appeared behind the counter, slowly ringing up the purchase. When placed my game in a separate bag, slowly sliding it toward me. “Do be careful, child.”

My brow furrowed in confusion at the warning, a strange feeling of doom settling in my gut. Before I could question it, though, Murayama threw his arm around my neck and started to drag me from the store, complaining about how hungry he was.

━━━━━━༻🕯༺━━━━━━

“Mother fucker,” I muttered under my breath, scowling at the TV screen. I was never good at battle royale games and I rarely made it into the top ten. “I died, you’re on your own.”

Murayama clicked his tongue, the sound barely picked up by his microphone. “At least you survived longer than last time. A whole minute and a half! You should be proud.”

I scoffed at his teasing tone. “I hope that duck with the Mohawk murders you and consumes your corpse.”

“Wow, that’s a bit drama – shit!”

I burst out laughing when said duck slaughtered him without much effort.

“You jinxed me!” He complained. “I lost because of you.”

“Tsk, tsk, Shiki. You shouldn’t blame others for your own shortcomings. You gotta own up to that shit.”

“One v one me.”

“Hell no. I’m dumb but not that dumb.”

“Liar.”

“I don’t even know how to respond to that so I’m just gonna switch games.”

“Don’t you dare.”

I hummed, grabbing The Five Grim Kings from its case. “Too late. I’m removing the disc.”

“I’ll kick your ass,” he threatened, but it lacked any real malice.

“Please, you could never beat me.”

Which was, technically, the truth. Both of you were on the same level and when you fought seriously, it ended in a tie every single time. He couldn’t beat me and I could never beat him. It’s super frustrating, but it is what it is.

“Oh no, I’m taking the disc out of the console.”

“Oi, get your ass back here and be my distraction.”

I pretended to think about it for a moment. “Nah. We’ve been playing for five hours, bro, I need a break.”

“Five hours?” He replied in surprise. “No way, it’s been like five minutes.”

“We started at noon. It’s almost 5:30.”

“Your clock is just wrong.” There was the sound of movement over the headset, followed by a moment of silence. “Oh…”

I snorted. “Dumbass.”

He clicked his tongue. “You’re so mean to me. It’s hurtful.”

“Uh huh, sure. You want me to stream this or nah?”

“Absolutely.”

“Alright, gimme a minute.”

I was just about to insert the disc when my phone started to buzz from beside me. I muted my mic, removing one side of the headset so I could answer Yamato’s call. “What’s up, boss?”

“There’s been an emergency,” he grunted, sounding tired. “I need you to come in.“

“Seriously?” I groaned, leaning back against the coffee table. “Today’s my day off and it’s late. Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

“No. The client is paying big money for this and we both could use the extra funds. Get your ass down here.” He ended the call.

“For fuck’s sake,” I muttered, turning the mic back on. “Oi, I gotta go. Got called into work.”

“Eh~? Just ignore it.”

“Can’t. Yamato would actually fire me this time.”

“Man, imagine having your wealth in someone else’s hands. Couldn’t be me.”

“Because you’re useless,” I snickered. “Later.”

“Don’t kill anyone.”

I left the party, setting my headset on the TV stand. I considered putting the disc back in its case but it was already out so I figured I would save future me the trouble. I popped it into the console before standing up and grabbing my shit, heading out into the cool afternoon.

━━━━━━༻🕯༺━━━━━━

I let out a huff as I fell onto the bar stool, scowling at Odake-san. “The usual, please.”

A smile tugged at her lips as she started to prepare my drink. “Long day, hun?”

“The longest,” I sighed out, hanging my head. “This job is kicking my ass.”

She hummed as she set down a glass of chocolate milk before leaning her arms on the bar. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

I grabbed the glass, taking a large gulp before slamming it back on the counter. “My boss is running me ragged, Odake-san! As soon as I get back from one errand, he’s sending me off on another! He also complains that I take too long despite going there and straight back. He’s a tyrant.”

“Who’s a tyrant?”

I stiffened, straightening my back and looking fearfully at Odake before whispering, “He’s right behind me, isn’t he?”

She giggled with a nod, standing up to start preparing his drink.

I slowly turned on my stool, offering him a grin. “Hey, Yamato. How’s it going? How much did you hear, my guy?”

The tall man rolled his eyes before settling down beside me. “All of it.”

“Ouch.”

“I should fire you.”

“But you’re not gonna because you love me, right?” I grinned, nudging his shoulder.

He sent me a look but didn’t reply, choosing instead to thank Odake for the alcohol. 

I resisted the urge to click my tongue, downing the last of my drink. “Can I get another?”

“Coming right up!”

Yamato shook his head. “I can’t believe you come to a bar to order chocolate milk. You’re an actual child.”

“If I was a child, I wouldn’t be allowed inside the bar.”

“You know what I meant.” He sent me a look. “If Naomi finds out, she’s gonna be upset.”

“Don’t you dare tell her,” I hissed, smacking his shoulder. “It’s nothing personal, I just… the bar has a different vibe and sometimes I just need time away from Sannoh.”

“If Cobra hears that, he’s gonna be -“

“Really?” I deadpanned, making him snicker behind the glass.

“Don’t tease her too much,” chuckled Odake as she set another glass on the counter. “I like her company.”

“I like yours, too,” I nodded, taking the cool glass in my hand. “Thank you, Odake-san.”

She gave me a motherly smile, patting my arm. “Any time.”

After finishing my second glass, I said my goodbyes to the two and headed out into the night, ready to return home and get some sleep. I yawned loudly, rolling my neck. It had been a long day and Yamato expected me at the garage first thing in the morning to meet with a customer, so I couldn’t stay up too late or I’d end up oversleeping. 

Something caught my eye and I paused, taking a step back to get a better look. Whatever it was, it was catching the light of the street lamp, glinting softly. I approached it, glancing around for anyone who may have dropped it but the street was completely empty.

I kneeled down, fingers wrapping around the ice-cold metal so I could inspect it closer. It was a ring made of stainless steel, a black dragon inlaid across the length of it. In the dragon’s claws was a large orb made of sapphire. The blue seemed vibrant against the muted tones of the metal.

“Beautiful,” I breathed out, thumb rubbing gently over the orb. I glanced around again to ensure that no one was around before I slipped it onto my middle finger. The orb started to glow,  the metal growing warm against my skin. “What the -“

A circular wave of blue energy shot out from the ring, the world around me rippling like the surface of water after being disturbed. I prepared myself for what was to come next, but nothing happened. The world returned to normal, the night silent.

“I need sleep,” I muttered, rubbing my eyes.

When I returned to my apartment, I went straight to the bed, flopping onto it and cuddling the soft blanket Cobra had given me for my birthday. As tired as I was, I figured I could fall asleep pretty easily, but I found myself lying there for over an hour, unable to sleep.

I scowled in annoyance as I pushed myself up, grabbing a soda from the fridge. Caffeine definitely wasn’t something to drink when you wanted to sleep but something told me sleep wasn’t gonna come for me any time soon. Might as well enjoy it.

I plopped down in front of the TV, grabbing the controller. Pressing the home button woke up the TV, showing the title screen of The Five Grim Kings. Murayama would probably bitch about not waiting for him but I was too tired to care. I’d just buy him some ramen and he’d forget about it.

As soon as I pressed the start button, the ring started to glow again. Rather than the warmth I felt before, it felt as if it were on fire and I hissed, trying to tug it off but it was too hot to touch. “The hell?”

The lights started to flicker, the TV screen glitching out. One second, the intro cinematic was clear and, the next, it was so blurry I couldn’t even see what was happening. I shot up with a frown, looking for something I could use to pull the ring off. I settled for the blanket, wrapping it around my finger and tugging hard but it wouldn’t budge. It was as if my finger had swollen, trapping the ring in place.

When I removed the blanket, a beam of light shot from the ring’s orb and into the TV. “What the fu -“

The light exploded, blinding me as it threw me backward. I don’t know what I hit, but it knocked the wind from my lungs, my vision blurring. As I slid down to the ground, my vision dotted with black, my consciousness slipping from my grasp.

━━━━━━༻🕯༺━━━━━━

A groan passed my lips as pain shot through my skull. What the hell happened? Why does my body feel so sore?

“Hey, you. You’re finally awake.”

My body tensed as I shot up, wide eyes looking around frantically. “Oh my god, I’m in Skyrim?!”

“What is that?”

I looked at the large man sitting across from me, dirt covering his skin and his wrists bound with rope in front of him. I blinked dumbly a few times, slowly looking around. I was in the back of a horse-drawn cart, sure, but the guy sitting up front was no Imperial soldier.

Instead of armor, he was wearing a black robe and rather than being surrounded by trees, we were surrounded by an endless sea of yellow grass.

“I am so confused.”

“Did you hit your head or somethin’?” questioned the man, leaning forward.

“I think so.” I reached up to my head only to realize my wrists were bound, too. “What the fuck is this shit? Why am I tied up?”

“You got caught in Kaxa territory.”

“Kaxa?”

“Kaxarene.”

I stared at him, waiting for him to continue but he just stared back. “Thank you for clarifying, that definitely clears things up.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I was being sarcastic!”

His brow furrowed. “Sar… castic? What’s that?”

“S… Sarcasm doesn’t exist here? Oh god, I’m gonna die!” I cried dramatically, standing up and trying to yank my hands free. “Let me off this damn thing!”

“Sit down, now!” Snapped the driver, eyes narrowed at me. 

“I refuse! I have rights, ya know!”

“Please sit down, friend! You’re gonna get yourself killed.”

“I refuse! Try and kill me, I dare y -” I cried out when the cart came to an abrupt stop, making me lose my balance. The man tried to grab me but he wasn’t fast enough and I fell over the side, landing on the dirt path with an oof.

The driver jumped down, pulling a sword from within his robe. “I’ll save the hangman the trouble with you.”

I scrambled back as best as I could, scowling at him. “Stay away from me! You have no idea what I’m capable of! I’m warning you, man!”

But he didn’t stop advancing, lifting the sword above his head. 

The sound of hoofs pounding the ground made him pause, his eyes lifting to something behind me. I refused to check because I wanted to be able to dodge if he swung the sword at me. The man cursed, turning and rushing back to the cart, slapping the reins as he yelled at the horse to move.

It neighed loudly, taking off like a rocket. 

Horses raced past me after them, kicking up a cloud of dust that had me coughing. 

“Hey, are you okay?” A horse came to a stop in front of me, the man jumping off its back to kneel in front of me. The lower half of his face was covered by a red bandana yet he felt familiar to me. He pulled a knife from his belt, flipping it in his hand before reaching for me.

I scrambled backward until I hit something solid. Looking up, I realized it was the legs of a massive man also wearing a black bandana over his face. He, too, seemed oddly familiar.

“Ah, I’m not going to hurt you, I swear!” replied the first guy, holding his hands up. “I’m just gonna cut the rope.”

The second man reached down, grabbing my shoulder with one hand and easily hoisting me to my feet. “We don’t know who she is. She could be with Kaxa.”

“But she’s tied up. Why would they tie up one of their own?”

“To keep their identity hidden.”

My eyes snapped to the side as a third man appeared, blonde hair covering his forehead and dark eyes. I knew that voice well. “Cobra?”

His eyes widened in surprise before narrowing suspiciously. “Who are you? How do you know my name?”

“The hell are you talking about?” I scowled. “It’s me. Is this some kind of prank or something because it’s super elaborate and I hate it.”

“Be quiet,” hissed the second man, gripping my shoulder tightly.

“That fuckin’ hurts, bro, damn.” I tried to pull away but his grip was like iron. Wait a minute… I looked at him, squinting at his half covered face. It took a moment for it to click in my brain. “Yamato?”

“Don’t act like you know me,” he hissed, ripping the bandana down to his neck.

“Wait, then that means…” My eyes fell on the first guy, still holding the knife. “Chiharu?”

Chiharu tugged down the bandana, looking confused. “How do you know me?”

“Chiharu only just joined us,” Yamato muttered, sending the blonde a look. “No one should know him unless…”

“They’re from Oya Lions,” finished Cobra, closing the distance between us.

“Oya Lions?” My brow furrowed. Did that idiot go and change the name of the school without telling me? I shook my head, lifting my hands. “Look, I’m not sure what’s going on but I am not your enemy, Cobra. I would never betray you!”

“Cobra look.” Yamato grabbed my wrist, showing off the ring.

“That’s…” Cobra’s eyes widened and he tugged down the bandana. “Where did you get that?”

“I found it on the street. Thought it was cool but now I can’t get the damn thing off.”

“She’s… she’s the chosen one!” whispered Chiharu, looking at me with wonder.

“Chosen one?” I laughed, shaking my head. “Nah, fam. If I’m your chosen one, you’re all fucked. There’s no way anyone would be dumb enough to make me someone that important.”

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong.”

My head snapped to the side, growing wide. It was the only man from the game store, but he looked different. He was taller, for one, his back straight. Luscious white locks flowered from his head, falling to his shoulders. Standing on either side of him were Kohaku and Tsukumo.

“You,” I breathed out, my brain slowly piecing it together. I scowled, rushing toward him. “You did this, didn’t you?!”

Kohaku stepped forward, brandishing a sharp looking sword that made me stop dead in my tracks. “Not another step.”

“Does everyone in this damn world have a sword?” I complained, glaring at the old man. “Oi, what the hell is going on? What did you do to me?”

“I merely opened the portal to get you here,” explained the man as he stepped closer, patting Kohaku on the shoulder. He instantly relaxed, though his gaze did not leave me. “The ring chose you.”

“Well, I don’t choose it. Get this damn thing off me and send me home!”

“You can’t go!” cried Chiharu, rushing up to my side and giving me a pleading look. “Please, chosen one. If you don’t help us, the Kaxarene will destroy everything!”

Yamato scoffed, folding his arms over his chest. “We’re doing fine without her. We don’t need the help.”

“Oh, but you do, my boy,” stated the old man with a frown. “You’ve no idea the darkness that’s coming.”

“What do you mean, Niramo?” Cobra took a step toward him, his brow furrowed in concern. “What aren’t you telling us?”

“I’m afraid I cannot say.” Niramo lowered his head in apology before his gaze landed on me. “However, I can tell you that this one is the one who will help bring light back to Dragophire. It will never be whole again, but it can be healed by the one who possesses the power of the King’s Ring.”

Everyone looked at me expectantly and I swallowed nervously. “You guys are so fucked…”

━━━━━━༻🕯༺━━━━━━

-> High&Low/Rampage Taglist: @kiraaaeon, @simpforchuchu, @star2fishmeg, @thatpoindexterpixy -> General Taglist: @asterhaze, @mrskenpachizaraki

I think I got everyone that wanted on the taglist, let me know if I missed anyone!

[savagewildnerness]

I keep seeing your violin videos in my recommendations and I just wanted to say that you're really talented! How long have you been playing?

Hello Anon ☺️,

That’s so kind of you. Thank you so much! I don’t consider myself a musician, so it really means a lot.

I started playing violin when I was 8 years old. I only ever had free violin lessons in school. When we were 8, a violin teacher came to my primary school & we were told if we wanted to learn violin, we could “audition” (they were just testing for musical aptitude as we obviously couldn’t play yet!) & 4 of us were chosen. I just walked out of school one day with a (school lent us instruments for the first few years) violin, as I hadn’t told any of my friends or my parents they’d chosen me as I as worried my friends would be sad they weren’t picked.

I had violin lessons till I was 18, just under 10 years, just in term time. As I went through school, most children who had had free music lessons eventually gave up sooner or later. Or their parents could afford private lessons too. But I would just miss lessons for my 15 minute violin lessons once a week.

In my secondary school there were two sisters - one 3 years older than me & the other a year younger who were magnificent violinists (one ended up a conductor, the other a violist in an orchestra.) Their parents were musicians too (nobody in my family plays an instrument), they’d played since they were 3 & they were confident & really talented. The girl nearer my age always bullied & hated me & as a quiet child I always felt lucky not to be bullied more. But she did it. I never understood why she hated me. I still don’t understand why she hated me so much. She was way more popular than me & way more talented. Anyway, she was still an incredible musician.

I did get as far as grade 8 violin & my violin teacher told me she’d never got another student who had never had a private music lesson to grade 8, so I suppose it was something. But I always felt (& was) inferior.

When I was 12 (old for this!) I began private piano lessons outside school. My piano teacher taught those 2 girls too! When I was 13 she was going to reduce the number of pupils she taught, semi-retiring & since I hadn’t played long, she told my Mum I’d have to stop piano lessons. But then I had my piano lesson that day. I was still a beginner of course, but she said I played with such feeling that she couldn’t stop teaching me. I only got up to Grade 6 piano, but I enjoy playing piano too.

Anyway, I don’t know whether my violin tags just found you randomly (sorry!), but in case it’s via vampire chronicles (which inspire the improvisations here): I first read them around when I began piano lessons & always associated with Nicolas - as a child who played violin & knew I would never be as good as even others in my tiny school, let alone as good as people in the wide world. And yet, occasionally people said some nice thing about my playing. It didn’t seem to mean much, but it mattered still, because I loved music & I felt music & it meant a lot to me. I felt like Nicolas: like I could never be good enough, but I’d always felt deeply from & deeply connected to music. (I also danced as a child, so I felt music in how I moved to it long before I played violin.)

I am actually now a music therapist & though I still do not consider myself a musician (& there will always be way better music therapists than me too), I am lucky to be able to use my music, though it’s a lot of bashing cymbals & drums & singing silly sounds to tell the truth 😁😂😅. I work in different workplaces, with children & adults with disabilities. I work a lot with children who are nonverbal - some with profound & multiple disabilities, some with visual impairments, a lot who are autistic & well… a wide range. I am so lucky to be able to do what I do & work with the incredible people I work with - each so unique that my work is always so different & often very fun (& funny! Humour, as music is beyond words!) But I have never done anything at all personally creative, so sometimes it’s nice to do that, just for me, hence improvising.

As a child I was a horrible perfectionist too, but life taught me, perfection is impossible. You will never be the best at any thing & you likely won’t be even ‘very good’, let alone ‘great’ at much, or likely any thing either. However, what we can all be is: free.

So this longer answer than you wanted for sure is to say - may we all do whatever little thing, whenever we are able to to feel that little more free! 🥰 I wish that for everyone who may read this.

And - do things you’re bad at too! Sometimes I like to paint or draw & I have the same skill at drawing as I did when I was 7 (0 skill!) yet it can be more fun as there is no expectation of yourself, so you can actually be free like you were as a child. (Well, I wasn’t very free as a child! But you get the gist! 😂)

Thank you again for your question & for your kindness! And sorry for my longer-than-you-could-ever-have-wanted answer! 😇🎻

Do other people play instruments? I bet loads of you are incredible musicians, way, way better than silly me. I always wanted to play cello, saxophone & (random) piccolo too! But I can’t play any of those! 😅 I’d give cello a good try if cellos weren’t too expensive to own a cello when you’re not a cellist! 😂 That’s why I like my nice extra deep C string on my 5 stringed violin. That, and having that extra string can help if I’m working with someone who loves deeper sounds, or just in general - to have that extra range. ☺️

[simplysummers]

what's one of your favorite headcanons for your meerkat?

Okay so the lovely Meg sent me the exact same ask a while ago, and so I think I'm going to reserve my top favourite Sebastian headcanon for that post, just because it may be easier to find since it came from an account, and the headcanon I'm going to talk about is very special to me, and I'm super duper proud of it.

So for this ask instead, I've decided I'm going to list a few of my fave Sebastian hcs that I have! Some may be general, some are unique that I came up with, but either way I've realised that I tend to talk about my version of Sebastian a lot of discord, but not so much on here! So let's introduce you all to him.

Sebastian headcanons:

In my mind Sebastian is an only child, and a miracle child at that. For those who do not know, a miracle child is a surprise baby conceived and carried to term by a couple who were told having a baby would be borderline impossible. I think this hugely contributes as to why Sebastian is so spoiled, it's extremely hard not to melt over the son his parents never expected to have, and considering they have the funds to do so, they do exactly that.

(Have this from an edit video I made about Sebastian to fully explain what I mean 🙂)

In my mind Sebastian is an only child, and a miracle child at that. For those who do not know, a miracle child is a surprise baby conceived and carried to term by a couple who were told having a baby would be borderline impossible. I think this hugely contributes as to why Sebastian is so spoiled, it’s extremely hard not to melt over the son his parents never expected to have, and considering they have the funds to do so, they do exactly that.

(Oh I dubbed his parents Nathaniel Smythe, and Gabrielle (née Alarie) Smythe. We know his father’s canon job is a states attorney (and according to me, formally an international lawyer flitting between the Columbus and Parisian firm, where he specialised in finance) and I’ve always thought his mother to be a surgeon.)

I think Sebastian gets a lot of his mannerisms from his mother, his cold shoulder, his snark, his passive aggressiveness, it all comes from her. And always has. (They both find it comical when Sebastian is an adult, but as a child/teenager, they could argue about anything due to clash of personalities.)

His parents appreciate his talent in the arts, and made sure he explored all aspects of the craft at a young age. He took multiple styles of dance, had singing lessons weekly, and was even forced into learning an instrument (the violin) from a young age (the last of which he wasn’t very fond of.)

Growing up in Paris, while having family in the states, Sebastian struggled a lot with his childhood bilingualism. As a child he was merely upset by the prospect that he couldn’t hold a conversation with people in his family and their dislike for his bad communication skills, but as a preteen he would instead obsess over every little pronunciation when speaking in English, just to make sure it was absolutely perfect and he wouldn’t have to feel so degraded for something so basic. (I have an unpublished fic about this if anybody would like to read it.)

Equally, music and dance helped Sebastian a lot with his bilingual struggles, which is another reason he is so passionate about the hobby. It helped shape him in so many different way.

Sebastian’s favourite childhood TV show was Disneys ‘the house of mouse’, and he would always, without fail sing along, to the theme song.

When Smythe’s moved back to America indefinitely, Nate bought Seb a car because Seb was really upset and he wanted to make his son’s sadness disappear :( (Gabi’s like “girl what- 🤔🫣”

They 👏 love 👏 Kurt

Gabrielle warms up to Kurt a lot quicker than Nate does because he’s a protective father who doesn’t want Sebastian to get hurt (because he knows deep down Seb is a good person), whereas Jeff and Nick are like “what’re you talking about? Mr Smythe is lovely” to Kurt, who is petrified of.

Kurt has a clothing line named after Sebastian called ‘Simply Sebastian’ and yes that’s a nod to my old username. His little logo is an embroidered meerkat.

If anyone steals my headcanons I’m going to personally put baked beans in your shoes

[froggyplushy]

Xiao x Reader x Wanderer platonic headcanons

I have far too much love for these two. Someone please stop me. Also, I call the Wanderer 'Kunikuzushi/Kuni'.

• You and Kunikuzushi were practically joined at the hip as kids.

• Daily playdates, constant sleepovers, and ice cream cones every Saturday were staples in your life, made possible mostly due to the fact that Kuni's mom was never around to say no to you kidnaping your neighbor.

• Kuni was rude and sulky, but he let you taste his ice cream if you asked, and always panicked and apologized if he was too grumpy and you started crying, so you didn't mind too much. Plus, you did had the habit of poking his cheeks or stealing his favorite hat if he ticked you off as vengeance.

• And then, just before middle school, the unthinkable happened: you moved away.

• Luckily, you were able to write letters to each other, but it still sucked. Without Kuni, who's ice cream could you steal?

• The universe answered this question with Xiao.

• You met Xiao in the snow. One moment you're making a snowman, the next you're having a stare-down with a kid who you accidently tripped over.

• (To be fair, he was lying on the ground, so he was asking for it.)

• Eventually, to get the kid to stop staring into your soul (and because it was Saturday) you invite him to get some ice cream. He called you an idiot for eating ice cream in winter and went with you anyway, and thus was born a beautiful friendship.

• Xiao didn't go to school with you, he couldn't play every day, and he didn't like sleepovers, so it was strange at first. After all, Kuni did all those things with you, so why couldn't Xiao? But Xiao grew on you in his own way.

• He'd share his video games with you, exchange favorite songs, and go on the sacred Saturday ice cream trips (but if you tried to eat his ice cream, he'd turn bright red and start stuttering). He liked animals, took dance lessons every Tuesday and Thursday, and never shouted at you.

• During all this time, you were still constantly exchanging letters with Kuni. You mentioned Xiao once, but Kuni wrote a very long rant about how you were replacing him so you didn't do it again. Instead you told him that you were pretty sure you were taller than him now.

• Eventually you got a cellphone and started relentlessly pestering both Kuni and Xiao on a daily basis.

• And then life tore you from all that you held dear once more, by you changing homes again.

• All of highschool was spent apart from Kuni and Xiao. You still texted them all the time, and even started a group chat between the three of you. (You did so without warning, so Kuni and Xiao were super awkward around each other for a couple months.)

• Kuni and Xiao eventually started getting along, bonding over a shared love of the first-person shooters, coffee, and complaining talking about your bizarre habits.

• You three probably start meeting up as adults, getting ice cream or coffee, playing games together, trying to one-up each other in cooking (Xiao and Kuni were unfairly good cooks), and just hanging out in general. Kuni and Xiao lived together and would most likely invite you to move in as well.

• Kuni worked in childcare now (much to both your and Xiao's amusement), being surprisingly good with young children. He was still rather rude and he'd sulk if you teased him too much, but he was a lot more calm. He'd still share his ice cream and poke fun at you, but he'd also clean a whole apartment faster than anyone you'd ever seen and nag you if you weren't eating properly.

• Xiao was majoring in dance while working part-time at a small coffeeshop. He had a pet cat named Bao, lived primarily off of almond milk, and now sported some very cool tattoos and piercings. He'd still get embarrassed if you ate his ice cream, but now he'd get back at you by not telling you about how you got some on your face.

• Kuni and Xiao had gotten closer as well. Kuni was a mother hen towards Xiao, and Xiao would stop Kuni from murdering his stupid ginger coworker. They'd also take turns making coffee for each other.

• All in all, a very lovely friendship.

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Saturday, June 29

BUFFY: My sister's about to go to the same high school that tried to kill me for three years. I can't change districts, I can't afford private school, and I can't begin to prepare for what could possibly come out of there. So, peachy with a side of keen, that would be me.

~~BtVS 7x01 “Lessons”~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

we don't have to dance (Angel/Cordelia, G) by eagle_eyes

[Chaptered Fiction]

Recompense, Chapter 4 (Buffy/Faith, M) by Moonkid10

In the Dark of the Night, Chapter 13/? (Buffy/Spike, M) by norik23

Highlands and Tropical Islands, Chapter 11/? (Buffy/Faith, M) by QuillBard

In the Company of Witches and Slayers:, Chapters 83-84/200 (Willow/Tara, E) by VladimirHarkonnen (TheLightdancer)

The Yellowstone: A Safe Harbor, Chapter 7/? (Ensemble, Yellowstone xover, G) by Buffyworldbuilder

Omission, Chapter 12/? (Spike/Riley, Buffy/Riley, E) by toutes_les_routes

I hate the way, Chapter 30/? (Buffy/Giles, E) by DancingAngel0013

[French Language] Do as Romans do, Chapter 35 (Dawn/Spike, T) by OldGirl-NoraArlani

A Twist Of Fate, Chapter 65 COMPLETE! (Xander/Cordelia, M) by Jennifer Schumacher

Lover's Labyrinth, Chapter 13 (Xander, Buffy, Willow, M) by Spooksdarkhero

Bounties and Bullets, Chapter 10 (Buffy/Faith, M) by alwynjaegar

Lie to Me, Chapter 31 (Buffy/Spike, Adult Only) by In Mortal

The Watcher, Chapter 14 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by In Mortal

Exquisite Chaos: Part 2, Chapter 5 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Kanita, fortes775, Kanita, SzmattyCat, simmony, MillennialCryBaby, Maxine Eden

School of Hard Knocks, Chapter 5 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Melme1325

Love Lives Here, Chapter 81 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Passion4Spike

Lie to Me, Chapter 31 (Buffy/Spike, Adult Only) by In Mortal

The Watcher, Chapter 14 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by In Mortal

Love Lives Here, Chapter 81 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Passion4Spike

Bruises, Chapter 29 (Buffy/Spike, Adult Only) by hulettwyo

Sand 2: Realizations (Buffy/Spike, T) by myrabeth

[Images, Audio & Video]

Wallpaper: Prophecy Girl (Buffy, The Master, worksafe) by revello-drive-1630

Gifset: [Buffy/Spike with poem on screen: Twilight by Ruby Archer] (slightly NSFW) by ladyverdance

[Reviews & Recaps]

PODCAST: That Rat Shop Hotel (S4E12) by It Stakes Two

[Fandom Discussions]

when people who dislike angel claim that angel likes to pretend he and angelus are totally different people by moistvonlipwig

buffy the vampire slayer au where giles has a thick new york accent by joe-spookyy

what would happen if late S3 Faith met vamp!Willow? by juanabaloo

faith and willow are kind of foils in a way by lesbianmarrow

that line in btvs 3x15 “consequences” where angel makes a joke about safewords by lesbianmarrow

i’m so fascinated by this scene in btvs 3x15 “consequences”, when buffy comes to confess to willow how she’s been hiding that faith accidentally killed a man by lesbianmarrow

I know why they had the actor that plays Giles leave for almost of season 6 but I feel like they could have done a better job story wise by there-are-many-ways-to-smile

BtVS - What’s in a name? by lierdumoa

when they had riley cheat on buffy because of his chauvinist hang-ups and then basically said oh it’s actually buffy’s fault by cuntylestat

i’m genuinely so surprised that in all of btvs there’s never a slayer that got vamped by yellowjckets

I love the things that feel sorta incoherent between Buffy and Angel having their own shows by badwolfwho1

ok but we seriously needed more episodes about versions of the main characters as vampires by hauntedorpheum

willow looking so much more turned on when she’s being threatened by her evil dominatrix vampire self by lesbianmarrow

canon spuffy reads so much like fanfiction it’s actually kind of crazy by silvermars

Dana’s attitude towards Slaying vs Buffy’s continued by multiple posters

What if...a vampire tried to turn Oz? by Guilty-Tie164

Why wasn't another slayer called after Buffy died (for the second time)? by rosehathaway13

If Buffy wasn't set in Sunnydale, what real town in California could you see the show set in? by jdpm1991

Watching Angel in Parallel w/ Buffy? by Apprehensive-Ice9481

What are your thoughts about Connor and Cordelia in Season 4? by OptionNo1672

The First as Willow by Amazing-Intention292

The first evil is a baby compared to Angelus. by FoxIndependent4310

The trio, underrated villains. by FoxIndependent4310

How do you think Kendra felt during the hypnosis? by hypngirl

Buffybot is all of us by b04carpediem

[Articles, Interviews, and Other News]

CONVENTION: James Marsters to Attend Huntington Comic & Toy Con 10-11 August 2024 | ConHuntington by James Marsters News

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Join the editor team :)

[museenkuss]

Hello! 🤍 I hope you have a great start to the week. I was wondering if you had any beginner ballet workout recommendations that are friendly for people with absolutely nonexistent turnout? My hips and feet just don’t go these ways and my butt refuses to stay in one line with my spine whenever there’s any pliés 🥴

Hi lovely!! I can relate to the no-turnout problem, mine is small as well - but you don't have to force your feet to turn wider! Maybe you've had in-person ballet lessons and remember this part, but I've also found that youtube ballet courses can mess with you in that regard, because they (obviously) can't correct you. So I hope you don’t take it as patronising when I tell you something you already know! :) it’s just a reminder <3

In that sense, i tried to find videos that explain turnouts a little more — I’ve noticed ballet instructors specifically on YouTube have a tendency to underexplain? I feel like every ballet video should be small turnout friendly, and if it doesn’t feel that way, someone is not doing what they should be.

A tip that helped me: To find our turnout (in an adult ballet class), my teacher had us stand tall, thighs and feet touching and sliding both feet open, flat on the ground, kind of like opening a fan. It's one swift move, without lifting the heels or bending back, and where your feet land naturally, that's your natural turnout - it's where your toes point while doing a Tendu or Plié, and there's nothing wrong with it! Forcing it wider can lock up your hip and mess with your balance - maybe that's what you've been experiencing as well?

I started looking for videos on technique & I found this one really helpful! The idea of moving your heels was new and exciting, and I really like the way she explained how much work goes into your thighs at all times. I feel like many youtube dance teachers don't always remember that those things don't come naturally to beginners. It was also encouraging to know that turnout can improve with time!

I've been looking through plié videos as well and in the end I came back to Alessia. Her absolute beginner's class does mention the turnout part during the plié, which I found really helpful (and it's a good lesson altogether imo). Her first lesson on feet/hands/posture also goes through it (the whole series is really helpful). What also helped me in class was the idea that while you sink down, you're imagining that your thighs are actively turning out. This article that I really enjoyed and found very helpful explained it really well - a jar unscrewing, a rose blooming.

Additionally, the video or hers I used to do regularly is this one!

This got really long and I hope it was at least a little helpful :’) in short: there is nothing wrong with your small turnout! Don’t force it, you’re doing great! Happy dancing to us both 🩰🎠✨

[dreamboundedstar]

Low-Fli Ship Questions are finally here!

PRE-RELATIONSHIP

How did they first meet? Willow was out looking for a date for a bratty family member’s wedding so she doesn’t look pathetic not having a plus one. She’s really bad at starting conversations with random people though. So she almost considers paying a stripper at Pickles to be a temporary, pretend date. The Belcher kids and Linda spot her before she could build up the courage to go through with her terrible plan. Linda immediately decides to (force) help Willow to build her confidence in asking people out. After a few failed attempts at the mall and one anxiety cool down in the bathroom later, Linda decides to do a mini speed dating session for Willow at Bob’s Burgers. That way Linda can pick out the options and take some of the stress off of Willow when trying to start conversations. When Linda dragged Willow out of the mall, they passed Flips Whitefudge. Flips did a double take while walking when he first laid his eyes on Willow. He was distracted by the beauty of her backside and what little of her side profile he was able to glance at. He tried to find the Belchers and Willow to show her some of his dance moves as if he were a bird of paradise doing a courtship dance ritual. Unfortunately, he lost sight of them in the mall crowd. Not wanting to dwell on feeling blue of not being able to show off some dance moves to a cute girl, he moved on and continued to what he was originally doing. The speed dating idea at Bob’s Burgers did not go well for Willow. After she spent so many hours with failed attempt after failed attempt, she had become jaded and gave up. It was just a stupid wedding for a person she didn’t even like that much anyway. She decided she was just not fit for dating and she would go to the wedding alone. So the next day she decided to look up some waltz tutorial videos just in case maybe a cousin would want to dance with her or something. Unfortunately, the internet was down at the worst possible time in her apartment. So, against her better judgment and her roommate’s suggestion, she goes to the “I Want to Dance with My Body” studio to do waltz lessons before the event. She yet again had hit another hurdle when the studio still hadn’t found a new dancing teacher for waltzing. Willow was going to leave depressed until Flips slides on the counter to Willow immediately telling her he can help her out. Shocked at some random guy that slid his booty on a counter and almost crashed into her, she had several questions. The most important one being, how was this 90s kidz bop reject going to teach her waltz? Flips told her not to let looks deceive her and reassured her that he knew more about dancing than just hip-hop. He was lying through his braces. Willow was very suspicious, she was desperate though and had taken what she could get. Flips had told her to come back later when it was less busy and then he spent all his free time watching waltz videos so he could make what he said less of a lie. With bare minimum knowledge and the dance steps drawn on the back of his hands, he was ready. Ready to crash and burn! Willow had noticed the pen marks on the back of his hand immediately and Flips admitted to her his intentions. Willow was touched and surprised by the reason why Flips had done what he had done. No guy had put this much effort to get to know her before and to her surprise, it made her want to stay. To even more her surprise, she asked him to be her wedding date on a whim. Surprised, be excitedly he accepts the offer. So together, they both watch waltz videos and continue practicing. However, Willow made it clear not to add any hip-hop. She didn’t want to stand out and doing hip-hop at a wedding would do exactly that. Willow was very lucky that Flips found her cute.

What was their first impression of each other?

He was allured at first sight to Willow’s beauty (not full-on love yet). Willow was surprised to find an adult more cringe fail than her, that’s saying a lot with her social anxiety.

Did any of their friends or family want them to get together? Shelly was super supportive of Flips’ feelings for Willow as soon as she saw him desperately do whatever it took to get to know Willow more. Sam and Bridget strongly believe Willow can do better than Flips, but are okay with him as long as Willow is happy. Flips is embarrassing as all heck, but at least he’s not a deadbeat or abusive. That’s what Willow’s parents tell themselves at least. Willow's roommate, Anna didn’t care who Willow dated as long as they did their “business” when she was not around, didn’t steal anything, or trash the place.

Who felt romantic feelings first?

Flips, he fell for Willow the moment she did an arm wave during their waltz to signal to him that he has permission to be himself. Thus they perform a hip-hop waltz fusion dance at Willow’s bratty family member’s wedding.

Did either of them try to resist their feelings?

Willow did initially. She didn’t want to admit to herself that she could fall for someone that has such a one-track mind like Flips. She wasn’t the biggest fan of hip hop and thought she would go insane if she heard about “hip hop this” and “hip hop that” every single day for the rest of her life. He was just supposed to be her wedding date and then they would never speak to each other again. However, after they left the reception, Willow laments how sweet Flips had been and wasn’t ready to say goodbye to him. Flips stayed the night at Willow’s apartment. Nothing happens between them except them holding each other to sleep on the couch. Willow realized how pretentious to Flips she had been in her mind and she was disgusted with herself. She’s spent years never being in a real relationship all because of her vitiligo and social anxiety. Here comes a sweet guy who genuinely likes her and she’s judging him just because he loves hip-hop and is not ashamed of how it makes him look. She’s no better than the people that judged or bullied her and she doesn’t want to be that way. So she officially stops seeing herself as above Flips and admitted to herself that he finds him very sexy in a suit and even likes his stupid haircut. No matter what happened next, she wanted to see this relationship through.

If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think?

Flips: *wolf whistles* woo, damn! I gotta find my boom box.

Willow: Figures, 7.888 billion people in the world and I get the one with saggy jeans. I guess it’s better than being boring, I suppose.

What would their lives be like if they had never met?

For Willow, life would be boring and lonely. For Flips, life would be aimless. He would be content where he is but he would have no long-term goals to strive for.

GENERAL

Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?

Technically Flips is the one that got the ball rolling. Willow was the first to ask him out for just one date when she saw all the effort he put in just to spend time with her. She was desperate at the time and figured might as well go with the guy that seemed to really like her. It went better than expected after a metaphorical fiery exit from the wedding reception. Flips did everything he could to make Willow feel better after she was trying to hide her triggered feelings of being called an old, mean name from her childhood (birch and cow for example). Willow realizes how much she actually values Flips’ company and doesn’t want him to leave yet. So she set aside her original plan and decided to see where the relationship will take her.

Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?

Flips and Willow both agreed to not count the wedding date as their official, first date and decided to go on a real one asap. On their official, first date they just go around the city taking pictures of graffiti before it gets cleaned off, eat at Bob’s Burgers, back to the apartment for a private dance session (not an innuendo people!), and watch a bit of anime while cuddling together on the couch.

What was their first kiss like?

The kiss was a very heat-of-the-moment type of thing that Willow felt guilty about rushing after the fact. She deeply needed to feel like she was wanted and not alone after being called an old, mean name she hasn’t been called in years. Willow felt like she used Flips for self-gratification when she never intended for them to go past a kiss. She never realized how selfish and manipulative she was and she didn’t like that. Even so, Flips didn’t let the first kiss stop at one in that moment and Willow didn’t push him away. After they took a breather, Willow admits to him that she was not ready to say goodbye. So Flips stayed over at Willow’s apartment to hold each other and talked until they both fell asleep on the couch. They didn’t continue kissing at that moment because Willow lamented how she treated Flips. Meanwhile, Flips just sort of had a feeling something was up with her, something they could discuss in the morning. They work it out in the morning and Willow is reassured by Flips that she’s too hard on herself and they are cool.

Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?

Flips and Willow kissed other people before they kissed each other. However Flips is Willow’s first, real relationship and everything else. Flips has had more dating experience than Willow but never anything long-term. He definitely gives me talks a big game but still virgin boy vibes (nothing wrong with being a virgin but still) so I don’t think he ever got all the way with any of his dates whenever he miraculously landed them with his “mad dance skills”.

What’s their height difference? Age difference?

Flips is 5’9” and 29 going on 30 soon. Willow is 28 and 5’6”.

What’s their relationship with each other’s families? Do they share a friend group?

Shelly adores Willow and thinks she’s the most precious thing to ever grace her and Flips’ life. Willow is flattered by Shelly’s affection but it can be a bit much for her at times given her introverted nature.

Sam and Bridget don’t hate Flips. They’re glad he and their daughter are happy together. They just really don’t know what to make of him, mostly Sam. Sam doesn’t know whether to laugh or feel offended by the persona Flips’ presents himself as. They both know he’s harmless though and the world’s least threatening gangsta. Both Sam and Bridget are both introverts and find Flips’ extroverted personality very exhausting to be around. So they’re content with just seeing him on holidays and special events.

Willow doesn’t really have that many friends. She’s not close to the people she works with at Wagstaff and can’t really stand some of them. Even the roommate she’s known for 4 years she’s not close with because they just never really thought to be more than people that just help each other pay expensive rent. Though, through Flips’ natural extroversion, Willow and Anna eventually decided to hang out more because it’s kind of weird that they didn’t in the first place.

The closest thing Willow has to a friend is Linda when she forced her help onto her. Flips hang around people that also love the culture of hip-hop. Despite being great at starting conversations with random people and being unapologetically himself, he doesn’t really have any steady friends. The people he tried to hang out with think he’s a joke and pretty much ditch him when they can. Not until Willow and Anna does he have an official steady friend group.

Who takes the lead in social situations?

Flips being the more extroverted of the two generally is the one to start conversations first. It gives mixed results, especially when they are at a more serious event. Oh well, at least it’s never boring.

Who gets jealous easier?

The two are pretty neutral levels of jealousy. Honestly, Willow is probably more jealous of Flips being able to become friends with her roommate faster than her than him getting with her roommate. She’s known Anna for 4 years and she’s still just Anna’s acquaintance that peacefully co-exists with her and sometimes uses her as a guinea pig for food recipes she needs reviews on for her internet video cooking/ukulele song cover series.

Once Flips realizes Willow has probably seen tons of live, nude models for her art education, he becomes more insecure than actually jealous. It immediately gets dropped though when Willow points out that some of the hip-hop music videos he’s seen are way more sexualized than her drawings of nude models she had no interest in.

Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear?

Flips, especially since his boo’s name is Willow. It’s practically gift-wrapped for him. Dirty jokes aren’t really Willow’s thing so it can be a bit annoying sometimes. Though, when she’s feeling particularly flirty she responds with a meow or purr just to see Flips be caught off guard.

LOVE

Who said “I love you” first? Flips. It was out of the blue, way too soon, and Willow was not ready for it.

What are their primary love languages?

Quality time, physical, and words of affirmation.

Who uses cheesy pick-up lines?

Flips, to no one’s surprise. Willow loves cheese though.

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?

Flips’ most common form of PDA for Willow is to rub her back as if it was a record on a turntable or hold her hand just in case for whenever he gets excited and wants to twirl her around or pull her close to dance. Willow’s cuddling is usually reserved for the privacy of her apartment or just anywhere where no one can gawk at them.

When they are alone it gets more intimate such as Flips kissing specifically on her vitiligo patterns. For Willow it’s either lots of hugging, rubbing back while hugging, kissing cheeks, and most intimately, her fingers playfully circling around Flips’ Adam’s apple slowly.

Who initiates kisses? Despite Willow being the one to start it, Flips is the one that initiates the majority of the kisses.

Who’s the big and little spoon? Flips is the big spoon and Willow is the little spoon. Though they switch up every once in a while for funsies.

What are their favorite things to do together?

Since Flips is an extrovert and Willow is an introvert, it can be a balancing act for them to figure out what to do together that won’t drain them too quickly. Flips loves anything involved with the hip-hop culture and Willow loves anything involving some form of art and people expressing different types of creativity. So they do a lot of compromising and try to do a mix of both of those things. Some of the examples are watching rap/dance battles (and watching Flips participate in them), checking out new graffiti, going to dinner theater, check out new, off-Broadway musicals.

Flips would go to more nightclubs with Willow if he had it completely his way while Willow wishes they would go to Art Crawl or art museums in general more.

Though, when they just stay home they enjoy playing some videos games/board games/cards (sometimes with Anna), binging some shows or anime, freestyle song-making sessions with Anna (once Willow and she finally decided to actually hang out more), Flips being her model as she practices her 5/10/30 minute sketches, and making out. (XD)

Who’s better at comforting the other?

I think they both equally do well at comforting each other but Flips would say Willow just to make her feel good because of her originally wanting to be an art therapist.

Who’s more protective?

Depending on the situation, they can be equally protective of each other. Though Flips slightly more so because of him being on “The streets” more.

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

Even though at the start, Willow was very touch-starved she actually values verbal affection a little more. Flips is all about physical affection but would never turn down some verbal affection.

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

I have a whole playlist dedicated to them XD!

What kind of nicknames do they call each other?

Flips calls her boo, bae, babe, Willz, Low-fi, and his abstract beauty. It’s an uphill battle for Willow to come up with nicknames for Flips Whitefudge, so she mostly just calls him Flips. Though the best attempts she tried to make were Flip, Flip Flop, Flying Flips, and probably the best one, her snickety snack.

Who remembers the little things?

Willow tries her best to because getting to see the look on Flips’ face when he receives a gift from her that is only possible because she remembered offhand things Flips said brings her joy. She values her quality time with Flips and tries to show it by remembering the small things.

Flips tries to as well, but he isn’t as good at it as Willow.

DOMESTIC LIFE

If they get married, who proposes?

Flips moves in with Willow and Anna for a bit before Willow and he gets married. Flips is the first to propose, but it went badly because he did it post-sex and no ring (or at least anything to symbolize one). Thankfully, it didn’t end the relationship and Willow just wanted more effort for next time. Anna gave Flips a lot of ribbing for his blunder. He did better on the second attempt and Willow said yes. The second attempt took so long that Willow was the one that almost proposed to him.

What’s the wedding like? Who attends?

Small wedding with just close friends and family. Anna and her family and the Belchers duel cater it. However, Anna’s family has a bit more responsibilities (which is fine for the Belchers given the last wedding they catered to). Shelly and Willow’s parents are of course there.

The only thing I’m not sure about is whether I want a surprise guest appearance from Flips' estranged dad for the wedding or not, you know for the angsty drama. I’m honestly still debating on whether I want Flips’ dad to be dead or just a deadbeat that left him and Shelly when he was 11 ½.

How many kids do they have, if any? What are they like?

They want kids eventually but aren’t in a rush to have them. They are mostly waiting until they have their own place and not needing to room with Anna anymore. I’m not sure how many yet when they do have them though. I’m thinking either one or twins (one for hip and one for hop XD).

Do they have any pets?

No pets are allowed in the apartment they live with Anna. Flips joked about getting a cat before (because of Willow’s name), he never committed to it though. They eventually get an American fuzzy lop rabbit named Disco and a Lionhead rabbit named Snoopy.

Who’s the stricter parent?

Willow, she’s an art teacher so she has to have some strictness in her.

Who worries the most?

Definitely, Willow is more outwardly a worrywart.

Who kills the bugs in the house?

When they live with Anna, it’s Anna. When they get their own place, Flips takes the job, sees the size of the bug, and immediately calls his mom to deal with it. Only for the really big ones though! XD

How do they celebrate holidays?

They mostly visit in-laws for the holidays. Shelly and Flips usually go singing hip-hop versions of Christmas carols to their neighbors around Christmas time while Willow is dragged along too. It’s mostly traditional at the Hughes residence during the holidays. Big holiday dinners, watching holiday specials, catching up on everything with each other, and playing holiday-based trivia games.

When they don’t visit the in-laws, they keep it casual, order some pizza instead of having a big holiday meal, watch holiday specials, play some games, and sing hip-hop versions of holiday songs (though thankfully, no forcing Willow to sing them outside in the cold).

Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?

Probably Willow because it doesn’t take too much to convince Flips to stay in bed. Meanwhile, it takes more convincing for Willow to stay, though not by much because they both are very bad at resisting more sleep.

Who’s the better cook?

They both are pretty average at cooking and would rather have anyone else cook for them instead. Though Willow takes longer in the kitchen than Flips does for his food because she really values the presentation of her food as an artist, even if it’s still mid in the end.

Who likes to dance?

Do I really need to say it, you all know who this answer is for?!

As for Willow, she was never much of a dancer before Flips. After Flips, she’s still not as active of a dancer as Flips, but she’s gotten more comfortable with how she looks when dancing and does her best no matter how bad she is at it. Her favorite dance move is to be twirled around. Spinny dance moves are just really fun to her.

[walkedlegacy-closed]

verse - competitive dancer.

from a young age anya wanted to be just like her mother. when her mother and father met , she had been a dancer , and stayed that way even after having the twins. luckily having the kids at the same time allowed her to get back to competing with her long time best friend. bucky was happy to stay with the kids and support her from the side. but as anya grew from baby to little girl , watching her mother , bucky could see that she was going to be just like her.

sure enough she told her mother at the age of five she wanted to be a dancer like her. natalia couldn't be happier , and she started her on ballet lessons that year. knowing that would weed out the fad if that's what it was , she loved it , and as she grew , they added more styles so she could find her own way.

anya found contemporary dance soon enough and fell in love with it. the tricks she was allowed to do , mixed with the emotionality of it. just like her mother , she was an absolute vision on stage , and never looked back when it came to dance. she loved the art , she loved competing , and she loved the friends she had made along the way. while there was competition , there was something to be said about the support fellow dancers gave one another through hard times.

now in her young adult years. she's still competing , both solo and with her long time dance partner since childhood. when she's not on the stage competing professionally , she likes to teach dance and also likes to film fun how to videos on beginning dance moves for people to try and home.

[didee-anne]

Photo dump and update from the last week. Leavenworth last Wednesday was fun! The concert we were going to attend got cancelled and we ended up leaving before it got dark and the lights really popped, but we all had a good time anyway. Thursday was Rory’s work’s Christmas dinner and after that he surprised me with a hotel stay! Friday was a low key day at home and we made a bunch of fudge. Saturday we had a couple different friends over and worked on a puzzle. The kids all helped for a bit before they lost interest and us adults ended up finishing it. Christmas Eve was busy. We had church that morning and then I ran out to my BIL and SIL’s place to drop off a gift for the family gift exchange that we do with them every year. Got home in time to grab the kids and head back to church for choir practice in preparation for the candlelight service. The service went well. The tech had some issues with the music but it got sorted out. We came home and while Ror was finishing dinner prep his youngest brother and his wife stopped by to drop off a gift for the exchange and my sibling and their wife came over to join us for dinner! For dinner Ror made prime rib. I didn’t get any before pics but I did snag an after picture lol. After dinner the kids opened their gifts from the aunties and then we watched my all time absolute favorite Christmas movie; It’s a Wonderful Life. Since we started the movie late the kids got to stay up late and then after they were in bed Ror and I got the presents set out under the tree and stockings taken care of. My oldest Jennifer does a scavenger hunt for us to find our presents from her so in order to give her time to hide all the clues she’s the only one allowed out of her room before 8:30am. It’s so nice knowing we won’t be up at a stupid early hour. We did the scavenger hunt, the kids opened their stockings, and then everyone opened their gifts. After presents I gathered everyone for our annual family picture in our matching jammies and then we spent the rest of the morning dancing along to just dance videos. It’s ridiculous how good my big girls are at that! I’ve never done it before but lots of laughs were had and that’s all that matters to me. Late morning we had a zoom call with Rory’s side of the family and we did our gift exchange. Sometime after lunch we played Fluxx with the kids. I bought the Jumanji version and the Marvel one is on its way. The kids enjoyed it and Nikki won. I got Nikki some heartless hair curlers in her stocking and the results are THE CUTEST!!! I didn’t think Nikki could get any cuter and I was wrong! Anyway, Tuesday I had my weekly coffee date with Lori and gym date with Ror. Jennifer and her boyfriend went to the fabric store and bought some material to make blankets and while they waited for the fabric to be washed and dried they used my old dance lesson videos and spent a couple hours swing dancing. They’re so stinking cute together it’s ridiculous. While they were dancing I finally got around to cutting out my rainbow window cling and getting the designs put up! The monstera leaves took forever to cut out but they’re my favorite and I’m glad it’s finally done. Today I had a breakfast date with my SIL and then met up with Ror at the gym for a workout. We worked shoulders and now it’s a challenge lifting my arms 😂. It’s been a lovely busy week. This next week won’t be _as_ busy but it will be busy. I’ve got Nikki’s 15th birthday this Friday and then our 17th annual NYE LOTR marathon. 🥳🥳 it’s one of my favorite days of the year!

[disreputes]

𓏲  *   ( darren  barnet,  cis  man,  he & his  )   ⸺   pictures  of  JAIME  BLUE  ‘JB’  LINCOLN,  the  thirty-one  year  old  musician, has  been  showing  up  all  over  my  feed,  and  considering  the  last  time  they  were  #trending,  it  was  due  to  the  rumours  of  his  former  boy  band  reuniting  -  i’m  not  likely  to  unfollow  anytime  soon.  with  their  levi’s  sherpa-lined  demin  jacket,   grey  plaid  flannel  shirt,  black  comme  des  garcons  homme  tailored  trousers,  and  a  pair  of  scuffed  off-white  sneakers,  they’ve  managed  to  garner  a  reputation  for  being  more  mature  than  stubborn. their  critics  say  they’re  more  unstable  than  conscientious when  they  aren’t  too  busy  focusing  on  his  overflowing  and  coffee-stained  song-writing book  ;  late-night  shows  in  seedy  underground  bars  ;  and  a  calm  morning  spent  in  the  middle  of  nowhere.  reputation.com  has  taken  to  calling  them  THE LEADER in  order  to  avoid  a  lawsuit  (  again  ).

basic information

FULL NAME: jaime blue lincoln NICKNAME: JB AGE & DATE OF BIRTH: thirty-one & december 24th (sagittarius) GENDER & PRONOUNS: cis-man & he/his BIRTHPLACE: maryland, usa OCCUPATION: singer-songwriter FACECLAIM: darren barnet CHARACTER PARALLELS: michael bluth (arrested development), frankie bergstein (grace and frankie), mother's milk (the boys), chase dreams (the other two), natalie (yellowjackets)

biography

tw addiction

PART ONE.

some people were always meant to be famous. there are countless home videos of a young jaime blue lincoln singing and dancing along to the "beat it" that proved just as much. what began as living room performances and talent show stages quickly turned into appearances on maryland's daytime talk shows. jb was a local celebrity before even hitting the fourth grade—not that he ever really went to school. what's the use of learning cursive when you've already perfected the art of signing your autograph for adoring fans?

a wedding performance of a stevie wonder song here and a rendition of the national anthem there soon caught the attention of agents eager to sign jb onto their label. while his mother was skeptical of letting her son join the music industry, years spent on vocal lessons and dance rehearsals made it clear that their family was in no position to turn down a contract. at 14, jb became the breadwinner for his family of five as an up-and-coming popstar

that was, until, his debut album came and went without so much as a blip on the radar. his once-promising career was met with a lukewarm reception and was quickly swept under the rug for bigger and better things. his rising star faded away into obscurity, barely making its way past state lines

so, life went back to normal for jb—whatever that looked like. while he still did the occasional gig, he ignored the voice in the back of his head goading him into trying one more time. no, he'd shoved the thought of it away alongside the unsold copies of his album

as the years went by, jb having prepared for college at that point, it was a surprise to everyone when he heard from his old manager. that he was putting a group together and jb was on the shortlist. he didn't think it would amount to anything, but could a few auditions really hurt? the voice, the one he spent so much time ignoring, was deafening now. a few months later, jb traded in his college dorm for an apartment paid for on management's dime

PART TWO.

things moved quickly after that. their debut appearance on the today show, unpolished as it was, garnered a following for the band. this support helped skyrocket their lead single “what makes you beautiful” to the top of the charts. truth be told, overnight success was an understatement. they landed a record deal, a debut studio album, and an ellen show performance all within the span of a few months. jb, barely an adult, found himself headlining a national tour—finally living out the fantasy he’d imagined as a kid

the album cycle was endless. they’d step foot out of their tour bus just to end up at yet another recording session or award show. as much as it excited jb, he couldn’t wait until he got to sleep in a bed that actually belonged to him. but when the dust finally settled, going back to his hometown felt more foreign to him than being on the road. the call came for the boys to return to california and jb couldn’t get out of maryland fast enough

“treasure” hit number one globally and their second studio album came out just shy of a year from their first. the pressure was mounting from all sides and jb found himself putting out fires both in and outside of the group. spending hours cooped up in a tour bus with four random strangers would do that to a guy. he put it upon himself to look out for the other boys, stubborn as he was, and made sure to lend a shoulder to lean on when times got tough. jb might not have known it then, but he did his best to keep the group in one piece

and so it went. a third record-breaking album and international tour was nothing if not expected. could anyone really blame them for their egos when they had the numbers to back it up? could anyone blame him for the partying when he’d spent the rest of the time working his ass off? looking after the band despite the mounting tension that had started to get to him. jb didn’t know when the drugs and drinking got to be a problem—only that he had to do a damn good job of keeping it under wraps

for the first time in his life, jb had an honest-to-god writing credit to his name with their fourth album. tired of the bubblegum pop and r&b, the group’s musical direction had been toned down. as proud as he was for his involvement in the music, jb barely remembered those moments. his addiction had taken a toll and was only made worse by the overwhelming pressure for the group to somehow surpass the achievements they had broken. the voice in the back of his head that had always told him to go after more was now louder than ever

“you’re out of the band”—the words jb never thought he would hear. his manager had brought the boys into a meeting to let them know that jb would be leaving, that his problems with drugs and alcohol would only bring the rest of them down. he should have seen it coming in hindsight, but the news hit him like a runaway train. jb was gutted. just as they were getting ready to announce his departure, THE BAD BOY had gone ahead and stated that he would be leaving the group in the middle of their fourth tour. with the constant infighting and burnout over the years, no one put it against him

of course that meant jb wasn’t going anywhere. they continued the tour as a four-piece set and released their fifth and final album after having edited their former member out. devastating millions of teenagers around the world, the band announced a hiatus when their tour ended. jb took the break-up as if he had caused it himself—who’s to say he didn’t? his addiction got the better of him. finally free for once in his life, he wanted nothing more than someone to tell him what to do

PART THREE.

sobering up was a near-impossible feat. every milestone he reached was reported on by the tabloids and every visit he made to his counselor was tweeted out as if it were breaking news. he never was the most famous member of the band, but they followed him as if his life was on display 

while everyone else began working on their solo careers, jb moved out to tennessee to focus on his sobriety. there, he jumped headfirst into songwriting as a distraction. it allowed him to figure out what kind of music he wanted to make now that he was out of the spotlight 

he quietly released two albums since the break-up, mostly about his struggles with addiction and fame. the seedy bars and venues he plays now are ant hills compared to the arenas he toured, but he loves his following nonetheless 

jb heard the rumours circulating about the reunion and found himself at a crossroads. though he’s sober and holds no ill will towards the other members, there’s still the risk of falling into old habits and ruining the quiet life he nurtured for himself. the stress alone might just kill him this time around. but, funds are running low—funding your own musical ventures and taking care of your family doesn’t come cheap. that voice? the one in the back of his head? it’s been a long time since he’s listened to it, but he’d be lying if he said that he shut it up for good