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flaneur001 · 1 month ago

Text

One step Closer

Pairings- Sylus x Fem!Reader

Tags- Fluff

Word count- 1700

Sylus had never seen you cry before. There were moments. Of raw emotion splitting through your anger and brimming like dark clouds, a rumbling oncoming storm, reflected in your eyes. Yet it never followed by rain as he expected.

You would excuse yourself and hide away until the storm passed. Not letting him have the satisfaction of seeing you at your lowest. And that always left Sylus reeling. Making him feel a dull twinge in his chest, knowing that you don’t trust him enough to touch that vulnerable part of yours. Not yet.

But he left you be. His snarky kitten, licking her wounds in private. And when you returned, emotionally recharged, with that cheeky biting facade, he welcomed you back. Never addressing what had passed. It was an unspoken agreement between you and him. And he respected that.

Besides, Sylus was never one to hit where it hurts.

Where’s the fun in messing with the weak?

If he wanted to fight, he needed his kitten to give back in equal measure. With her claws out and her hackles raised.

One late evening, he barged in his mansion. Waves of frustration and anger rippled through him. He made quick work of his jacket, shrugging it off his shoulders, nimble fingers undoing the first three buttons of his shirt, as he bounded towards the bar in his study. His head throbbed just thinking about the mess that the deal had turned out to be.

Gods, He needed a drink.

The hue of his decor reflected on the floor to ceiling window, painting the city outside crimson. He stood before it, taking in the signs of life spread like little shiny dots lining across the streets, meditating, a soft calm washing over his senses with each sip of the whiskey burning down his throat.

When the last notes of the song playing on his vinyl crescendoed, he put his glass down. Suddenly noticing the silence in the mansion. You were staying over this weekend, and while Sylus loved the company of his own thoughts, and the voice of solitude, his curiosity piqued. For as much as you’d like to think that you were the picture of poise, he knew what you really were. A radiant ball of energy. A noisy little Kitten.

Folding his sleeves up to his forearms, he refilled his glass. The amber liquid sloshed, faintly splishling onto his slender fingers, as he pushed open his study door and strained his ears for any sign of chaos in his house.

Nothing. He could’ve dropped a pin and would still hear it echo in this moment. This made him nervous. He methodically checked every nook and cranny until he stopped outside your bedroom.

Well, it was his guest bedroom, but he liked to think of it as yours. It was full of your belongings, and spare clothes. And he would never admit it, but some days when you weren’t able to visit the N109 zone, he would quietly slip in your room and spend the evening there. Placating himself with the soft scent of your perfume lingering in the sheets.

In his mind he had given you a place to come back to. A home away from home.

Dull chatter reached his ears, followed by occasional sniffles and sobs. He stood straighter, a faint crease pinching his brows, his shoulders squared, getting instantly on guard. Fingers clenching around the glass, he hesitantly pushed open the door. A sliver. Just enough to make sure you were okay. But he simply wasn’t prepared for the sight before him.

Three heads, huddled together on the couch. The room was swathed in pitch darkness, save for the flickering, colorful glare of the TV illuminating the occupants.

He relaxed, rolling his eyes in an I-can’t-believe-what-I’m-seeing manner. An amused curiosity translated into a feline-like grin on his lips and he watched, leaning on the doorframe, taking leisurely sips of his drink.

You were sat in the centre, sandwiched between Luke and Kieran on either side, holding a big popcorn bucket on your lap. Three hands blindly groped in the bucket for the salty treat, munching and mumbling, quiet comments about the movie playing on the screen.

By the looks of it, Sylus guessed it was a typical romantic tragedy. And he had walked in during the climax. The hero was laid across the heroine’s lap, bruised, coughing blood, muttering his final dying words and you choked, crying up a river as Luke and Kieran consoled you with wads of tissues and coos of “there-there” complete with soothing pats on the back.

It was certainly…something

Being the character he is, Sylus sneaked up, tiptoeing towards the couch. He was giddy. Or maybe it was the alcohol in his system, but suddenly he had this urge. Of picking you up and spinning you around. To press kisses onto those tear stained cheeks.

He had missed you.

“Never thought I’d see the day when I catch the brave hunter crying over…fiction” He drawled.

His chin was placed on your shoulder, subtly breathing in gulps of your scent. Nose occasionally pressing against your pulse, which was going crazy under the vibrations of his deep baritone.

You flinched, almost toppling the bucket of popcorn on the floor. Bless Kieran, for the last minute save.

Luke paused the movie and the trio turned around with sheepish sputtered greetings.

“Hey-hey Boss—”

“Didn’t expect you home so early—”

“We were just killing time—”

“Hush” He intoned, eyes piercing straight into yours as wispy tendrils of his evol snatched the remote from the coffee table and turned off the TV.

All he needed was a sharp raise of his brow for Luke and Kieran to go scampering out the room, letting the heavy set door shut close behind them.

The room was bathed in complete darkness now. You stood there hugging yourself, suddenly very self conscious about the tears still wet on your cheeks.

“Sylus…”

“Yes, Sweetie?”

He stepped closer, not needing any light to sense your presence. He was comfortable in the dark.

You stepped back, until your legs hit the couch, effectively cornered. You chewed at your bottom lip, feeling him close the distance between you. His arms came to rest on either side of you, caging you, holding the back of the couch as he leaned down. His presence today was vivid. Strong. Masculine. A heady mix of Alcohol, sweat, and his cologne.

You gulped, as you felt his fingers trail down your arm in a slow caress. His face was nestled into the crook of your neck again. Breathing, soft puffs of whiskey warm breaths across your hypersensitive skin, leaving prickles of goosebumps in its wake.

Your eyelids fluttered, head ever so subtly craning to allow him better access, when your eyes snapped open. He had entwined your hands, threading his fingers in that very Sylus manner. But what made a soft laugh of disbelief escape your lips, were the wads of tissues he was pressing into your palm.

“I could most certainly help, but…” He trailed off.

He didn’t need to finish his sentence for you to know what he was implying. He knew.

Months of this game of cat and mouse and he had read you like an open book. He had caught onto your discomfort about crying in front of him. Your hesitance about sharing your weak side with him.

He had witnessed your anger, red hot and destructive. Your laughter, dipped in shades of soft pastel hues. Your sadness, crippling, veiled under the gossamer glooms of blue. You had shared too much already. Given away bits of yourself too easily.

But your tears? He wasn’t allowed to see them. Not yet.

Why?

Because you weren’t ready.

To be so honest with him. To give away that last piece that would chain you to him. Because if he left, wouldn’t that leave you empty?

You would be colorless. Dull. Meaningless.

For in the end, they all leave. What makes him any different?

He left your embrace. Putting a little distance between your bodies, not far, but not too close either. In the dark you could faintly see the outline of his head turn away. And your heart jolted.

Picking up the rhythm in a mad dance. It thumped harshly across your chest, making you worry that he’d be able to listen to it in the silence enveloping the room.

In his rough but clumsy manner he was giving you space. Handing you the reins to control whatever this was that you shared with him. He was allowing you to hide your emotions in the dark while he waited. A show of patience, so unlike him.

You wiped your cheeks. Glad for the darkness, hiding the stupid smile refusing to leave your face, and the flush crawling up your neck. He was dangerous for your weak heart.

After a moment of awkward shuffling, Sylus turned around, heading towards the door. Feeling the dull staccato of rejection ringing in his ears he was about to pull the door open—when he felt two arms snake around his waist.

You rested your head on his broad back and held him. Nuzzling, breathing in his cologne and listening to his sharp breaths, you stayed like that. Quiet and content in the dark.

“Sylus…”

“Yes, Kitten?” He husked, voice scratchy and deep.

“Thank you…”

“Well, if you really are that thankful, there are other ways of showing your gratitude” He teased, and you could picture his typical smirk, and playful red eyes, blinking up a storm of quick excited swoops in your belly.

“Don’t push it” You tightened your hold around his waist in an empty threat. A smile blossoming across your cheeks, after the soft shower of rain.

“Alright” he put his hand over yours and sighed.

Basking in this simple moment, his earlier sour mood long forgotten, he stood grinning. No amount of great deals would ever stand close to this little victory.

One day you will let him see every single aspect of you. Let him collect the pieces to the puzzle named you. One day he will have you…the complete you.

And when he does, he will never let go.

#flâneur✨#ashewrites📝#my words💜#lnds sylus #lnds #love and deep space #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x mc #sylus love and deepspace #qin che love and deepspace #sylus lads #lads sylus

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kaleidoscopewritings19 · 25 days ago

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Bruce Wayne x Bat!Mom

Title: Please Come Home for Christmas

Warning(s): NONE

Character(s): Bruce Wayne, f!x reader/Batmom, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth

Prompts used are in bold and italicized; italicized paragraphs are flashbacks/memories; song used is Please Come Home For Christmas (words are in red/italicized.)

SONG CAN BE PLAYED AT THIS SYMBOL 🎵 and the song should end about the time the last verse has been typed out. Song will be linked at that music note for your convenience. But here’s the link to song

MY WORKS ARE NOT TO BE TRANSLATED OR POSTED ANYWHERE ELSE! ©️

______

Christmas was your favorite holiday; the Christmas lights, the ambiance, the decorations, and being surrounded by your family made you feel complete.

The boys were in charge of decorating the seven foot Christmas tree. It was the first year you and Bruce had decided to let them take over putting up the tree and decorating it. While the boys decorated the tree in the living room, you were in the kitchen baking sugar cookies with the assistance of Bruce, while Alfred instructed the boys.

Bruce was going through the box of cookie cutters, “Seriously? You have a Batman cookie cutter?” He asked and you smiled, while pouring the two of you a glass of wine. “Of course. I figured we could do a Batman Christmas themed cookie.” Bruce rolled his eyes, and found the ziploc bag full of the normal Christmas cookie cutters.

As the two of you rolled out the cookie dough and began cutting out the festive shapes, the boys could be heard arguing in the living room. You wiped your hands on your apron, and Bruce followed quietly behind you.

Jason and Dick were trying to pull the Christmas tree out of the box, with Damian instructing them. “You have to shimmy it!” He yelled at his two older brothers. “SHIMMY!…. SHIMMY!….. SHIMMY!!”

“SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!” Jason yelled. Alfred walked over to the credenza and poured himself a glass of bourbon before downing it in one gulp. Tim was in the corner testing the lights, and Damian turned to look over at you and Bruce. “Don’t we have people to do this?” He asked and Bruce shook his head.

“No. Since your mom and I got married, we always decorated the interior of the house. You don’t need hired help for everything, Damian.” He said, and Damian flung back on to the couch.

You walked over to the couch and ruffled Damian’s hair, “These type of things take time. Decorating is supposed to be fun, and not a chore. So c’mon. Get up. Dad and I can help get the tree out of the box.”

You and Bruce helped get the tree out of the box and then fluffed out the branches. “There, now all you boys have to do is decorate it.” You stood up from the floor, and the tone in the room seemed more bright.

Alfred walked over to the record player and put on an old Christmas record, “It wouldn’t be Christmas decorating if we didn’t have on a record.”

The boys agreed with him simultaneously, and then got to work sorting out the different ornaments. Bruce followed you back into the kitchen, and continued to cut out and bake the remainder of the cookie dough. When you had placed the last sheet of cookies into the oven, Bruce pressed a kiss to your lips. “I’ll be right back.”

You sipped from your glass of wine, and Bruce brought a smaller record player into the kitchen. He delicately placed a vinyl down, and music filled the kitchen.

The all too familiar tune of Please Come Home for Christmas filled your ears- the voices of the Eagles (one of your favorite bands) sang the first lyric. You smiled at Bruce, and he walked around the kitchen island.

He took the glass of wine from your hands and sat it down on the marble counter top. “May I have this dance, Mrs. Wayne?” He asked and you pulled his body into yours. “Always.”

He held your hips firmly and you wrapped your arms around his neck.

My baby’s gone, I have no friends

To wish me greetings once again..

His forehead leaned against yours, and the two of you swayed to the music. Unbeknownst to you, Alfred and the boys watched from the pass-through window, but the two of you were too lost in each other to notice. “Why are they dancing to a sad song?” Jason asked and Alfred watched the two of you in awe.

“Let me tell you a story.” Alfred started and the boys turned their attention to Alfred. “Your parents had married on December 15th— this year will be their 15th wedding anniversary. Your mum was 22 years of age and your father 25. They had decided they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together.” The boys listened intently,

“Your father, had just become the Batman, and didn’t want to take a break from it. Even if it was taking time from them celebrating this new adventure in life. Your mum had left, because he decided that being Batman was far more important than staying home for a couple of weeks.”

You and Bruce had insisted on Alfred taking the night off so the two of you could celebrate your honeymoon, and decorate the Christmas tree alone. Bora Bora was the plan, but you had wanted to celebrate Christmas at home, and Bruce agreed. You were sitting on the floor next to Bruce as he opened a box of Christmas tree lights. “I don’t care what the box says, these lights are definitely not untangled.” Bruce mumbled, and you smiled.

“There’s glitter in my hair, on my clothes, and somehow, in my coffee. This is chaos.” You replied and Bruce pressed a kiss to your temple. “Well, you look hot covered in glitter.”

The two of you helped each other decorate the tree, and shared kisses in between. Wayne Manor was being filled with Christmas music, laughter, and lots of love.

The Christmas tree was big, bright, and beautiful. It lit up the entire room, and the fire crackling set the perfect ambiance. Bruce laid out blankets and pillows in front of the fireplace, and he convinced you that instead of sleeping in the bed, the two of you could sleep in front of the fireplace.

The two of you had fallen asleep in each other’s arms, wrapped up in nothing but the blankets. When you had woken up, your watch read 11:47 PM, and Bruce was no where to be found.

You had checked the bedroom, bathroom, the study, and even the garage. Then it had dawned on you; he was probably down in the batcave. You slipped on your silk robe, and pressed the keys on the piano, and the bookcase had opened, revealing the long, dark cave entrance.

The cool air nipped at your skin, and sure enough, there was Bruce on the platform in the middle of the water. He was pulling on his armor, and you started to walk across the short bridge; the sound of the waterfall covering the sounds of your feet.

“Bruce, what are you doing?” You asked and he jumped a little.

“Well, I decided to patrol. There’s a lot of criminal activity tonight.” He said as he turned around in the chair to face you.

You stepped in front of him; his hands traced up your bare leg, then pulling you closer to his body. You looked down at him, your fingers running through his hair, “I thought we had agreed that you wouldn’t patrol for two weeks. That we would enjoy our honeymoon, and Christmas together.”

He stood up from the chair and he sat his cowl on the desk. “It will just be tonight, baby.” He said as his fingers combed through your hair.

His eyes were your weakness, and he knew you would break underneath his gaze, “I promise it will just be for tonight.“ he whispered, and you loosened the tie to your robe, revealing your naked frame to him. A smirk worked its way across his face, and he pulled you closer to him, “When I get home, I’ll make it up to you Mrs. Wayne.”

Bruce pressed a kiss to your neck, and you sighed while covering up your body. “Fine. But only for tonight.”

But ‘only for tonight’ turned into a week. He went out every night that week, and you had decided enough was enough. One night, when Bruce had left, you packed a suitcase and booked a trip to London. If you were going to spend your honeymoon alone, you were going to have fun alone- in a different country.

“So your mum left the country and went to London. Your father, of course, did not notice she was gone until the afternoon of the next day.” Alfred stated, and he brought the boys to the living room to finish telling the story.

“Master B called me in a panic, and I came home straightaway. I feared that one of the adversaries had figured out who the Batman was, and took Miss Y/N.” Alfred pulled a piece a paper from the display books on the coffee table. “I found this note on this very coffee table, explaining where she was. Your father back then… He could be quite oblivious to these sort of things.”

~~~~~~~~~

Dearest Bruce,

I love you with all of my heart, but spending these nights alone made me realize that maybe I wasn’t meant to be the wife of the Batman. I married you, Bruce. I find it tough to share you with the people of Gotham. Deep down, I know this city needs you- desperately. But I need you too. I am going to London for the remainder of our honeymoon, and I promise I will come back to Gotham so we can sort all of this out.

With love,

Y/N

~~~~~~~~~

The boys passed the letter around, “Why didn’t she just stay and tell him?” Jason asked and Alfred shrugged his shoulders.

“Your father could hear words, but he never truly listened. They were young, Jason. Communicating is something that is learned throughout the course of marriage. It’s not always easy, and it takes two to learn, grow, and adapt with one another. Luckily, your parents worked through it, and learned.” Alfred stated and no one noticed you and Bruce standing in the doorway.

“Well, what happened next?” Tim asked and Bruce answered.

“When Alfred found the note, I read it. I realized I promised to take time off from Batman and spend time with my wife. And I didn’t keep that promise.” Bruce sat down in the recliner, and you sat down on the arm of the chair.

His hand rested on your lower back, “I didn’t know how to distribute my time- she was my girlfriend when I started Batman. She had her own life, and it wasn’t until after she left I realized that she gave up a part of her life to create one with me. She couldn’t do that alone.”

You turned to look at Bruce, “I went after her, and the entire trip there, all I could think about was the promise I made and didn’t keep. Most people wouldn’t see it as a big deal, but I made a commitment to you. A life long commitment- and if I didn’t keep my promise for those two weeks like you had asked, how would you ever trust my future promises, or the promises I made when we exchanged our vows?” He spoke to you directly now.

Bruce stared up into your eyes, and he pulled you down to his lap, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. “Going after you, was the best decision I ever made.” He pressed a kiss to your lips, and the boys made gagging sounds.

“Ew! Please stop!”

“Get a room!”

“Wait- what did them dancing to that sad song have anything to do with their marital problem?” Damian asked, and you turned to look at them.

You looked at Bruce for confirmation to finish the story. Bruce nodded and his cheeks turned red, “Well, I left the 22nd, and he didn’t find out where I was until the afternoon of the 23rd. Then it took him until the 24th to find pilots to fly the Wayne jet, and that night he arrived in London.” You smiled at Bruce. “So on the night of Christmas Eve, I decided to have dinner in the hotel’s restaurant. I wore my best dress, and strange enough, there was no one else in the dining hall. The lights were dimmed, and the waiter took me to a table in the middle of the room.”

Alfred took a seat on the couch, and smiled. “There was a candle, and two wine glasses and a bottle of my favorite red wine. I turned to the waiter and explained that it was just me, but he pushed my chair in and walked away.”

Bruce hid his face in your hair, “The stage lights turned on, and there was a group of men on the stage, and the opening notes to Please Come Home for Christmas started to play. 🎵

When my eyes had adjusted to these lights, lo and behold, the Eagles, were standing in front of me.”

“Bells will be ringin' the sad, sad news

Oh, what a Christmas to have the blues

My baby's gone, I have no friends

To wish me greetings once again”

You sat there in shock, and then through the corner of your eye, Bruce was standing at the edge of the stage. Slowly, you stood up and Bruce walked over to you; he was wearing his best suit and tie. All you could do was stare at him and then back at the stage, “You did this?” You asked and Bruce nodded.

“May I have this dance?” He asked and you gave him your hand.

Bruce pulled you into his body, his right hand held your waist, and his left hand met your right hand. You stared up into his eyes, and he leaned his forehead against yours. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, as he spun you out away from him, and then he pulled you back into his strong embrace. “I didn’t keep my promise. I feel terrible about it. But I feel even worse that it took you leaving for me to notice the broken promise.”

“Sure as the stars shine above

But this is Christmas, yes, Christmas, my dear

It’s the time of year to be with the one you love.”

“Will you forgive me, Y/N? There is no one else I would rather solve problems with, or experience life with. I only want you. Please come home for Christmas.” He whispered in your ear, and you pulled away from him.

All you could say was “Yes.” And Bruce’s hand held the back of your head as he pressed a kiss to your lips.

“There'll be no more sorrow, no grief and pain

And I'll be happy, happy once again.”

When he pulled away you pulled him back and pressed a long, needed kiss to his lips. “Thank you for coming after me.” You said against his lips, and then you smiled. “I guess there was a less dramatic way to discuss this. I’m sorry.”

Bruce shook his head, “Thank you for leaving. Otherwise, I don’t think I would have realized the error I made. I tend to hear, but not actually listen.” He said as he kissed your forehead.

“Ooh, there'll be no more sorrow, no grief and pain

And I'll be happy, Christmas once again.”

The final piano notes of the song played and you turned to Bruce, “How did you manage to get the Eagles to sing in a hotel restaurant? And why is there no one else here?” You asked and Bruce smiled as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I bought the restaurant. And as for them, I bought out an entire concert to get them here, plus some since it was Christmas.”

Bruce pulled you into a hug, and he waved for the band to play the song again.

_________

“He paid a for an entire concert? To play one song?” Dick asked and you smiled.

“No, they played their whole set list, and we had dinner with them. But it was after all of that, that meant the most to me.” You said as you looked at Bruce.”

“Ew, mom, we don’t want to hear this.” Jason said as he buried his face into a throw pillow. “Not that, Jason.” You stood up and picked up a small Big Ben ornament. Bruce stood up and followed you to tree, and his hand wrapped around yours, and he helped place the ornament on a branch in the middle.

“The clock is set to the time that your father and I kissed at our wedding, after saying I do.” You said and Bruce pulled you into a hug.

The boys surrounded the two of you, and even Alfred joined in on the hug. “So that’s why we take off from December 15th until the 29th.” Tim said and you smiled.

“Unless Gotham is in dire need of its Dark Knight. I too, have learned sometimes the city needs him more than I need him. But he somehow manages to be there for both.” You say, and Bruce pulls you into another breath taking kiss.

“Shall we go ahead and take our annual Christmas photo?” Alfred asks and you smile.

All of you gathered around the tree, and Alfred set the camera’s timer. He raced over and straightened out his suit and tie, “Everyone say SHIMMY!” Alfred shouted and everyone burst into laughter.

“SHIMMY!” Everyone exclaimed and the camera flash went off. In the photo, Damian’s mouth was agape, and he looked over at Jason who was laughing.

Then the fire alarm started blaring in the kitchen, “THE COOKIES!” You and Bruce screamed, and the two of you raced into the kitchen.

Bruce opened the smoke filled oven, and pulled out the cookie sheet with a dish towel. He dropped the pan into the sink, and after the smoke had cleared, everyone had a clear view of the cookies.

They were completely burned. All everyone could do was laugh, “They’re cookies are as hard as hockey pucks!” Jason said as he banged them in the counter. “I wonder if a bullet would go through them?” He asked out loud.

Bruce pulled you into his body and pressed a kiss to your lips. After what Jason had said processed, you looked at him, “Don’t you even think about it! No guns in the kitchen, and not shooting at the cookies!”

That night after cleaning the kitchen, the seven of you sat in the living room enjoying sugar cookies in front of the fireplace, and enjoying the view of the tree, all while playing some Wayne Family Christmas Games.

The End!

Authors Note:

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this! Comments, likes, and reblog are always appreciated. Please let me know what you thought!

xoxo

#bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x batmom #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne #batman x reader #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #tim drake #batmom #alfred pennyworth

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plor-bindery · 5 months ago

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Bound: Long Haul by @wolfpants

As a writer, I often am fondest of my shorter stories, but these fics are not the obvious choice for binding because they're so little. I actually started setting this story a while ago but put the typeset aside when I realized it was going to be such a low page count.

But more recently, I have been experimenting with a pamphlet bind to see if short stories and/or text blocks can be bound to my satisfaction, and yep! They can!

I love this short story by wolfpants and I have read it often enough that it deserved to be bound and put in my library. The story contains lovely delicious smut and (as you'd expect from wolf) excellent character-building, dialogue, and just exactly the right amount of realism. Wolf writes true adult characters and I adore this about their writing.

More about process and materials under the cut!

Materials: This is a quarto letter pamphlet bind using letter-sized 24# paper. The end papers are chiyogami acquired in Montreal. Book boards are actually cut from matte board that came in some packet of supplies or another, about 1 mm thickness and quite a bit bendier than my usual 2 mm book board, but worked nicely and feels appropriate for this little baby.

Book cloth is wooqu off Amazon as per. I sewed the pamphlet using three strands of waxed embroidery floss. Spine is strengthened with mull and a little strip of the same paper as the text block. Cover decoration is HTV vinyl. A few titles are foiled with toner-activated foil and a laminator. (Big shout-out to @sits-bound for technical assistance with figuring out that process!)

Process: This is a sewn 64-page/16 sheet quarto. I followed DAS Bookbinding's YouTube video here pretty closely except (as you can see) I went for a full cloth bind. I also added the paper layer on the spine before wrapping in cloth. I did this because I found mull alone — at least my cheap-ass mull — was not making for a smooth spine. The paper was a huge help on this front.

This is actually my third attempt at this style of binding (not counting the versions I did in class under adult supervision) so please do not be too impressed, lol.

The whole thing is held together by 50/50 corn starch/PVA mix (as well as the thread.)

I trimmed the tail twice by accident so then I had to trim the head twice too, and so that's why my margins are slender. :D

The HTV decoration was designed by yours truly (if you look at it for very long you'll be like "oh yeah I can see that" ahahaha) but I was really pleased with how it came out. I think I'm FINALLY finding my successful approaches for applying HTV. And yes, it was a monumental pain in my ass to weed. Worth it!

Peep the grease mark on the front title page. Sexy. No idea where it's from but yowza.

Bind short fic! Short fic also deserves binding! *steps off soapbox*

#bookbinding #pamphlet binding #fanbinding #wolfpants #drarry

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notgilderoylockhart · 4 months ago

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Interview with the Vampire | faux rebind

When my copies of Interview with the Vampire, The Vampire Lestat and Queen of the Damned arrived I was shocked to discover that every single one had a sticker on the cover. Except it wasn't a sticker. It was PRINTED on the cover. Who does that?

And after finishing the first book I wanted them to match the vibe of the show. So I do what I always do when I love a book. I rebind it. Not a full rebind, I still wanted to preserve the cover after all, but a faux rebind, a protective book jacket that would look great on my shelf and keep the book from getting even more roughed up. I'm using the tutorial made by bindrebindery on TikTok or on Instagram . I love her work, she's incredible.

The first thing we gotta do is measure our book. It needs to be extremely exact, since we'll be working with millimeters here. The width of my copy is 10.4cm, and its height is 17.5cm. As per bindrebindery's tutorial we'll subtract 5mm from our width measurement and then add 3mm.

10.4 - 0.5 + 0.3 = 10.2cm

For the height we'll just add 3mm to the bottom and the top, so 6mm each

17.5 + 0.3 + 0.3 = 18.1cm

And for the back, we just copy the height measurement of 18.1cm and simply measure the width of the back which for my copy was 2.3cm.

I'm using 2.5mm thick cardboard and I would also suggest investing in a box cutter and a self-healing mat to not damage any of your surfaces. Now that we've got our pieces cut out, we can draw where we want to glue them to the book cloth. The space for the hinge in between the cardboard pieces depends on how thick your cardboard is. It's the width of the cardboard times 2 plus 5mm.

2.5mm x 2 + 5mm = 10mm

So the gap in between is 1cm wide.

We're also leaving a 2cm gap all around. I also like to invert-round the corners, to make it easier for me to fold it down later, but it's also possible to just trim off the excess on a straight line.

Now it's time to cut and glue everything down. I'm using bookbinder's glue for this and folding down the long pieces first. While the glue is drying I'm cutting out 2 more pieces with the measurements of our cover. These will be the sleeves that will hold our book in place.

I'm folding it and making sure it's not too tight on the book so it can slide in and out easily and then I'm cutting off the excess, a little more than 2cm in this case.

I also spent a hot minute designing a few embellishments. I got a few sheets of vinyl to play around with, to test my new cricut and ironed them onto the velvet, which worked fine for the bigger pieces, but those pesky little letters just did not want to stick. It took me a hot minute to iron each letter on individually. But it was totally worth it, I think. I love the look of it.

Look at that shine. Gorgeous.

Now all that's left is glue on some decorative endpaper, turn it over and go over the hinges with something (I like to use the bow handles of my scissors) and add our sleeve-pieces. I also like to slide in some paper just to make sure the glue dries properly and doesn't seep out and (God forbid) glues the sleeves shut. And that's it.

#amc iwtv #iwtv #interview with the vampire #iwtv amc #interview with the vampire amc #daniel molloy #iwtv fanart #book binding #bookbinding #book #books #bookblr #booklr #iwtv louis #louis de pointe du lac #amc lestat #lestat de lioncourt #lestat #iwtv lestat

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mrkis · 1 year ago

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⛧ this is apart of my ‘MARK BDAY REQUEST SPECIAL’ event that i will be doing for his bday (wednesday-sunday). requests are OPEN for this.

REQUEST: ⇢ showing up to ex fwb!mark’s bday party and forgetting a present so he asks you to stay back when everyone else leaves 🫣🫣

⛧ WARNINGS: 18+ content. ex fwb!mark, make outs, fingering, dry humping, unprotected sex,

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

( “You’re here?” Mark’s brows raise in surprise at your arrival, but it doesn’t stop him from throwing one arm around your shoulder to coax you into a hug that you immediately return, your hands rubbing his back and feeling the warmth beneath your palms. “I didn’t, like, expect you to be here”

“I’m not going to miss your birthday” You tell him with a light laugh, pulling back from the embrace to look at him with a sheepish smile. “Although, I forgot to buy a birthday present on my way here… I’m sorry”

“No, it’s cool, don’t worry about it” Mark dismisses it with a wave of his hand before he scratches the back of his neck. “The party is about to end soon though… Do you, like, mind if you stay behind when everyone leaves or something?”

“Sure” You nod, “I’ll go wait in your room” )

You’ve been waiting for fifteen minutes for Mark to bid everyone goodbye and thank them for coming to his birthday party, hearing his laughter from the living room as you mindlessly walk around his bedroom, capturing small details of the space that hasn’t been changed since you last were in here.

His walls are still white, decorated with a few random posters of his favourite artists. His vinyl collection is still stacked in the corner of the room, untouched and in pristine condition. His favourite guitar was tucked away in a case that leaned against his wardrobe, stickers of Spider-Man and the Canadian flags plastered across the black case.

His bed sheets are still blue—so are the covers—and it’s freshly made, familiar with how he doesn’t allow himself to begin his day without making his bed the second he gets out of it. He still has the miniature Spider-Man plush that you bought him for his last birthday (and you’d be lying if you said you still didn’t have your Spider-Gwen plush underneath the covers of your own bed which, funnily enough, he bought you for your birthday).

He also still has a few photo frames sitting on his desk next to his computer and your fingers ghost of the ones of him and his friends, his family and others that hold a lot of memory due to their locations. But you pause when the tips of your fingers touch a photo that you were sure Mark wouldn’t have kept and your heart swells in your chest.

It’s of you and him at a carnival, silly headbands on your head with goofy smiles on your faces, Mark standing behind you with his arms loosely wrapping around your shoulders and cheek pressed against yours with your one hand resting on his arm while the other shows a peace sign.

You gut swirls with regret as you take a step back, suddenly feeling guilty for showing up at his birthday after you were the one that decided to call it quits on your odd situation.

You and Mark were friends with benefits, the situation lasting a lot longer than you both originally had planned. You were hooking up to satisfy your needs, fucking each other when you were frustrated or in need of a release or were just bored. It was only supposed to be for a month, but a month lead into two months which lead into five, and the five lead to a year which eventually ended up being almost two and a half years.

The predicament wasn’t good for both of you. Feelings were spiralling and even close friends were pointing out how strangely long it had been happening for and it made you feel terrible when a girl had walked up to you in a bar and told you that she liked Mark and wanted to ask him out but couldn’t due to you both being so close, and her being unsure of what you both really were.

You explained it to Mark that night—saying that maybe you had both dragged this out longer than you should’ve and were stopping each other from meeting other people. Mark was hesitant, but he agreed, leaving you both to shake on it as you ended your friends with benefits situation.

It’s been two months since that happened and truthfully, you both struggled to keep in contact with each other without things seeming awkward and being reminded that you’ve seen each other naked every time you shared eye contact. It left a dent in your friendship, but you were desperate to still keep him as a close friend as he previously was, which is why you showed up tonight.

“Sorry for making you wait for so long” You hear Mark apologise behind you and you jump at the sudden voice, peering over your shoulder to see Mark closing his bedroom door behind himself with a sheepish smile on his face. “Haechan and Chenle didn’t want to leave”

“Should’ve let them stay” You tell him with a kind smile, “Then you wouldn’t be alone for the night on your birthday”

“Well, I, uh, you know, I was hoping you would stay with me tonight” Mark admits with an awkward laugh, patting down the back of his hair, a little nervous habit you picked up during your time together. “Since we, like, haven’t been able to spend time together”

“I get it” You say in understanding, wanting nothing more than to spend time with him too and catch up on all the things you’ve missed. Even being in his presence is making you feel happy and content. “I’m still sorry about not getting you a birthday present, by the way”

“You can still give me one…” Mark speaks softly as he takes a step forward and your eyes widen slightly, immediately recognising what he’s hinting at as you feel his hands come up to touch your cheeks, his thumb pulling at your bottom lip. “You can give me you, you know”

“Mark,” You warn him, curling your fingers around his wrists but not pulling his hands away.

“You don’t miss it?” Mark questions you and you get surprised, watching as his teeth bites down on his bottom lip when he stands closer to you. “I miss it, a lot—more than I’d like to admit, actually”

“I do,” You admit quietly. “But that doesn’t mean we should”

“We enjoyed ourselves” He states, giving your lips a quick kiss that has you almost yanking him down for another. “That’s all that matters, right? We were happy. Who cares what others think? I’d never want them like I want you… Don’t you want me too?”

“You talk too much” You sigh, fisting the collar of his shirt and pulling him in for another kiss, deeper and more hungry than the first and Mark reciprocates almost immediately, not giving either of you a chance to breathe as he’s licking inside your mouth and kissing your lips raw.

Nimble fingers are tugging down the zipper of your jeans and you gasp when you feel his hand slip inside your pants, pressing his fingers to your folds and rubbing your clit in circular motions that has you whining, baffled by the fact he still knows your body so well.

He’s laying you down on his bed, hovering over you and resting one hand by the side of your head as the other plays with your pussy, the kiss hot and heavy as his fingers slip inside your pussy, curling them and grazing the spot that has your thighs clenching around his hand.

Mark’s drinking up your moans, panting in your mouth as he rubs his confined cock on your thigh while bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm, smiling against your lips as you’re embarrassingly quick to cum over his fingers, the wet sounds echoing throughout the quietness of his room and you wail as his thumb rubs your clit to ride out the pleasure.

“That’s it” He sighs over your mouth. “That’s my girl… good”

Neither of you give yourself time to calm down as he’s already leaning back to get pull his pants and boxers down to his thighs, not wanting to waste any time in taking off his clothes fully and you do the same, lifting your hips to pull down your own jeans and underwear, cursing under your breath as they get stuck on your shoes and Mark laughs, helping you yank off your shoes to leave your bottom half bare for him.

Mark resumes his position above you, guiding himself to your slick pussy and stroking the tip between your folds, gathering your arousal for an easy slip in and you wrap your thighs around his waist as he does so, the feeling of being full with his cock leaves you a moaning miss already, gripping at his shoulders as he thrusts, grunting with each deep stroke.

“Mark” You moan his name loudly and he smiles, slotting his lips with yours as his cock pounds relentlessly into your pussy, skin slapping against skin. He’s not letting up, his pace even quickens when he feels your fingers dig into his shoulders and tastes the salty tears that slip down your cheeks from the pleasure and sensitivity of not being fucked in so long.

“You’re so pretty, baby” He compliments you when he pulls back from your lips, admiring you beneath him and you grow flustered. His eyes dart above your head, staring at the Spider-Man plush that rests against his pillows before he looks back down at you, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. “You’re definitely my favourite birthday present”

©mrkis

#mark lee smut #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #mark lee x reader #[ mark bday special ! ]

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madelynraemunson · 1 year ago

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CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen's Club series)

strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!reader

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ MDNI

Chapter 015: Eddie, Do You Copy?

Learning about, understanding, and loving all parts of Eddie.

* = somewhat smut

** = smut

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014**, 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020*

word count: 5.8k words

disclaimers — fluff, grief, flight of icarus easter eggs bc of eddie’s mom, ANGST, talks of childhood abuse/negligence/foster care, implied domestic violence, homicide, cancer, mentions of suicide, mentions of underaged drinking/drug use if you squint, lil modern-nostaglia moment btwn eddie and the boys (as a treat ✨), erica and wayne cameo yayyy

author's note: eddie is so boyfriend in this chapter 🫠 happy holidays, you filthy animals ♥️

“I put the record on, wait till I hear our song. Every night I’m dancing with your ghost.”

♡

Your eyes accommodate the first beacon of light as thirst creeps its way into your system.

6:38 AM.

Quietly chucking the covers off, you find yourself hobbling over Eddie in attempts to get to the kitchen. You can only hope that it doesn’t wake him.

Eddie responds with a low grumble. Followed by some mumbling and flailing. And then you watch as he shifts around, doing his best to return to the state of comfort he was in before his sleep was interrupted.

But if he’s anything like you — which you know for a fact he is — his cranky self is most likely awake by now and just pretending to be unconscious to avoid early morning conversation.

To put it to the test, you press a soft kiss onto Eddie’s forehead. He smiles.

You smile to yourself. Called it.

When you get to the kitchen, you seek out Eddie’s Garfield mug for your reservoir of choice. And as it fills with water, the bedroom adjacent from his captures your attention.

Steve’s door is open. A huge indicator that he’s still not home.

Judging by the energy levels of everyone last night, you assume it’s because they were still out partying. And for Steve’s sake, a part of you hopes it’s also because he went home with somebody.

Once you’ve got your water, you sneak back into Eddie’s room, using the newfound, natural light to really study it.

You would’ve thought it was an extension of Steve’s room, not Eddie’s. Everything’s a posh navy blue, something Eddie wouldn’t be caught dead in if he had been anywhere else.

But the corner of his room is more like him, decorated with vinyls and a Crosley just like your sister’s. There were records of his favorite metal bands: Sabbath and Maiden. Anthrax, Metallica, and Judas Priest. And the unsuspecting like Elvis, The Doors, and Pink Floyd. Even country — both old and new, Johnny Cash and Chris Young — followed by a wide selection of Chicago blues and bluegrass.

The rest of his personality could be found on the bulletin board sitting on his desk.

Hand soap, dryer sheets, FUCKING DO PAYROLL

Eddie’s to-do list. You let out a soft chuckle.

Familiar faces canvas the board. There’s photos of Eddie, Jeff, Gareth, and Grant. A picture of him with his uncle — Young Eddie with his hair buzzed and Uncle Wayne’s a subtle gray, most likely Eddie’s doing.

There’s a photo of Steve and Eddie at a Colt’s game. Eddie and Dustin. And Eddie with Will at what looked to be a D&D convention of sorts.

But one photo catches your eye the most.

‘MOMMY & ME: LIZ + EDDIE , 1994’

His mom’s name was Liz. You graze the picture of Liz holding a baby Eddie in her arms. On her face was a dimpled smile like no other, the love-filled look in her eyes having been shielded by her thick wavy brown hair.

But you didn’t need to see her eyes to know how much she loved Eddie. You see it in how she’s holding him, gently pressed to her chest while she supports his neck, his beady brown eyes staring at her with the same amount of adoration.

It all reminds you of Mom. You’re almost certain there’s a picture of you two like that, but it’s back home with Billy… evidently a forbidden turf to trek.

At least there’s still the memory of it. But like the bond with your twin, it’s also growing to be distant.

Your eyes and tears trickle down to another picture of her on Eddie’s bulletin board.

It’s of Toddler Eddie now with Liz in what looks like a kitchen. He’s standing on her feet and, judging by the motion of the picture, is dancing along to a song that was probably playing on the stereo. Behind the two of them sat piles and piles of CDs, all of which were all of the blues.

“She was pretty, wasn’t she?”

Eddie is behind you now. He smiles at you with a dreamy gaze, beaming at the mere fact that the two women who made him happiest could be visually processed in the same frame.

You gulp.

“Really, really pretty,” you insist. “You have her smile. A-and her hair.”

"Yeah, I look a lot like her," Eddie chuckles with a hint of pride. He grazes the photos of her in the same way you did. "She’s influenced me a lot growing up. Bet that's why my sperm donor can't stand me."

You carefully dissect his choice of words. There’s a lot of resent for Alan Munson on Eddie’s part. You don’t blame him, if what Billy discovered had been true. It’s the same reason you and him resent Dad.

Eddie fixates on the expression on your face. He knows why this is so moving for you.

“It never gets easier, does it?” he questions, hinting at your own ongoing struggle with grief.

You cross your arms and shake your head. Softly you mutter, “Never.”

You feel stupid. Eddie’s doing his best to navigate his own baggage, yet you still found a way to make it about yourself.

He pulls you close and wraps his arms tenderly around your waist. Eddie doesn’t have to say it to reassure you that your burdens are safe in his presence. You can just feel it. Two traumatized individuals understand each other in a way others can’t.

“Time just keeps going,” you speak again. “Everyone moves on and you’re kinda just…stuck in place.”

“World just keeps going. Grief doesn’t care about your plans when it blindsides you, taking you for everything you’ve got.”

You swallow hard as Eddie’s words sink into you.

Tragedy just feels so non-consensual. No one ever asks for it to happen.

You and Billy can’t even go surfing without thinking about Mom. Whenever you try you both always end up fighting. That’s why Max tends to go alone or with her own friends.

“I have to stay away from a whole genre of music because I’ll burst into tears,” you scoff in agony. “Billy and I can’t even listen to Iration without thinking of our mom.”

“Can’t listen to Muddy Waters without thinking of mine.”

You and Eddie sway in place to the tandem of your beating hearts. It’s a breath of fresh air knowing you have each other now.

After a while, he ruffles your hair and spins you around so that you can face him.

"But enough about that," Eddie attempts a smile. He rubs your shoulders and you hum in awe. "This is supposed to be a happy time."

"Happiness and despair can coexist," you sniff. “Duality, remember?”

Eddie smiles. It's a you're right kind of smile. "I was yesterday years old when I learned that."

He kisses your forehead and soon you two are in the shower, rinsing up and mentally preparing for the long day of errands ahead.

You’re the first to hop out and get dressed, eager to devour a bowl of oatmeal before tackling the day.

"Hey… babe?" Eddie calls out to you from his closet.

The pet name almost sounds too natural rolling off his tongue. But then again he is the owner of a strip club, and was married for a few years before meeting you.

“Yeah?” you call back, heart skipping a beat.

“Can you make me a coffee while you’re out there?” he requests. “The usual black drip coffee with some hazelnut? Please and thank you.”

“Of course, hun.”

You can get used to this.

So you make your way back out into the living room and kitchen shortly after, practically skipping. But the person you see in the kitchen — with tired eyes and a bowl of his own oatmeal in hand — stops you in your tracks.

"Morning, Hargrove," Steve responds.

You're so dumb. You've gotta start realizing that when you sleep with one of them, the other may pop in at any minute. After all, it’s their townhouse.

As frozen in place as you are, you do your best to shoot Steve a shy little wave. Again, the look on his face indecipherable.

"Morning..." you pathetically respond.

Steve eventually grants you a wave back. He pokes around at his oatmeal while you make your way over to the fridge, your cheeks flushing a timid red as you do so.

You move in a way that seems like you were way too conscious of your actions. Even Steve notices. But he keeps trying to eat, his spoon clinking against his bowl as he intermittently clears his throat, all an attempt to fill the void of silence.

"Did you have a fun night?" you question. "You know... bar-hopping."

"Yeah, I did," he replies. "Argyle had to get cut off cuz he was being real extra with it."

"Oh geez."

"I know."

“How was Max?”

“She was fine,” Steve shrugs. “The bars use the same 21+ wristbands Hellfire does so we were able to sneak her in no problem. Chrissy made sure she got home safe. The girls were just stoked they finally got to have a carefree night.”

“That’s so good,” you breathe a sigh of relief. “I’m so happy for them.”

“Yeah,” he nods in agreement. “I’m really happy for them too. Seems like they needed it.”

Finally, your friend decides to address the elephant in the room.

"We uhh..." he begins. "We should probably end what we have going on here. Just so no one gets hurt."

“I think that’s a smart idea too,” you mumble as you nod.

You make your way over to Steve, stunned that he doesn’t shy away from you when you invade his personal space. Instead he leans into you, opening up his lap so you can maneuver between his legs.

You know, like how friends usually talk.

“It was fun while it lasted…”

"I know. I just feel so bad..." you choke, rubbing his arm softly. "I’ve wasted your time."

"I wouldn't say that," Steve refuses, shaking his head rapidly. He touches you back, running his hand across your arm. "I've thoroughly enjoyed your company."

Eventually his hand intertwines with yours.

There’s a heaviness in the room and something tells you that Eddie is near, looming at the foot of his room so that your business with Steve remains uninterrupted. He knows there’s some dust that still needs to settle. And he will linger until it does.

"You helped me get out of a really dark place," Steve admits. "And Eds too, I'm sure."

You look back towards Eddie's room.

“It wasn’t my intention to fall for him,” you say. “It just…happened. The connection, i-it’s...”

“I know…” Steve soothes you. “Been pickin’ up on that for a while. If you think I’m blaming you, I’m not.”

Steve urges you to meet his gaze again. And when a teardrop falls from your eye, he uses his thumb to wipe it away. Tells you to stop, before he too starts crying.

"This is... a huge step for him," Steve manages a grin. “I don’t think you realize, Shy Girl.”

"Yeah, I bet," you nod. "After Isabelle..."

"Yeah, Isabelle and everything else that dude's got going on," he confirms. "This is really good for Eddie. I can tell. It’s why I think it’s best that we part ways.”

Steve eventually does cry too, but it’s a rather suppressed one. The both of you take turns wiping each other’s tears, embracing the presence of each other for just a short while longer before needing to distance yourselves indefinitely.

You’re never going to forget Steve Harrington. His charm. His integrity. His everlasting devotion to the ones he loves most, and how he’d — time and time again — go to the ends of the earth for them. A noble soul in the highest regard. A true king.

“Thank you for being so kind,” you say to him. “You made my first week in Indiana a lot less intimidating. I hope you’ll still be around.”

“Of course I’ll still be around,” Steve chuckles. “Look at our friend group. Look at where I live.”

You share a laugh with him again.

“Ain’t no getting rid of me that easy, Hargrove.”

“I can sure try though, right?”

“Now why would you do that?” he banters sarcastically, chuckling into you.

He kisses your cheek softly one last time. Finally, Eddie’s door swings open, prompting you and Steve to asunder from one another.

“RISE AND FUCKING SHINE!” Eddie announces his entrance. “Both my soul and thine.”

You get out of Eddie’s way so he can go over and hug Steve good morning. Eddie then breaks the hug with a peck on the cheek and rough slap to Steve’s ass. Steve winces but you can tell he enjoys it.

“Mwah!” Eddie cheers. “Love you, babyboy. What you got going on today?”

“Oh, just gonna work on the online biz for a bit,” Steve mumbles as he ushers his hands through some paper. “Then ’m gonna start recruiting peeps for my other new job.”

“I forgot you dropship now,” Eddie says. “How’s that going?”

“Really fucking good,” Steve smiles. “I shouldn’t count on it too much though. It’s why I also have Newby’s. Speaking of which…”

Steve hands you a flyer. You take it from his hands.

NEWBY’S COFFEE ROASTERS: Even Superheroes Need Coffee!

Steve explains to you that a new coffee shop is taking over Family Video’s old suite. The owner grows his own coffee beans and all syrups are organically made from Hawkins locals. And since they’re a Mom and Pop shop, they were really going to need some help.

“If Maxine is still looking for a job, she’s more than welcome to apply,” Steve says. “We’re gonna need baristas. And we’ll be coworkers so whenever she’s on, I can drive her to work.”

“That sounds like an awesome gig for her!” Eddie pitches in. “Free coffee for employees too, I’m guessing.”

Steve nods at Eddie’s remark.

“That’d be amazing,” you blush. “Thank you, Stevie.”

“Thank you, Stevie,” Eddie parrots you. You elbow him playfully.

“Yeah, anything for you guys. I’ll put in a good word for her to Bob. He’s the owner. Great guy.”

“And what about this owner, huh?” Eddie chimes in. “Hope you can pull some strings and snag me some of those magic beans as well. I’m gonna need it. I also don’t mind paying full price cuz it’s goin’ to Newbs.”

“T’yeah with your job? You can have all the beans you want.”

“Mm, speaking of which,” Eddie scoffs as he stares at the time on his Apple Watch. “It’s almost time.”

Steve imitates Eddie’s gesture. Your eyes dart between the two of them, confused about the context of the whole ordeal.

“What are you guys-” you begin.

“Ah, buh-buh!” Steve stops you. “Wait for it…”

You look at the time on your phone to feel some sort of involvement as well.

7:59 —> 8:00

Eddie’s phone rings.

"An everyday thing," Steve tsks, shaking his head, resuming his breakfast as he does so.

"First problem of the day," Eddie looks at you. "It’s always something with Hellfire. From the moment the day begins...Yello?"

It’s Lucas. Sinclair never really calls unless it’s a dire situation, so you listen closely, doing your best to make out what he’s saying on the other line.

"I can't come in tonight,” is what it sounds like.

"Uh, why the fuck not?" your man demands. He places a sassy hand on his hip. "We need you for front of the house."

"Erica's sick and my car is in the shop."

"I'll pay for your Uber, you're coming in."

"I think it's covid. I don't wanna spread it to anyone if l've been exposed."

"It's not fucking covid, you guys have been jabbed more times than I can count for school."

The two continue to bicker back and forth like they’re brothers. Steve excuses himself from the narrative, going over to the kitchen sink to wash the dishes.

You watch Eddie as he lights up a pre-roll, taking a frustrated drag from it while he listens to Lucas’s, probably bullshit, excuse.

Eventually there’s a scuffle on the other line. Something something, “GIMME THE DAMN PHONE” followed by a “NO” followed by a “PHONE. NOW”. Eddie’s drags from his blunt grow increasingly slower.

Then another person speaks. The voice belongs to a girl. She sounds slightly younger than Lucas. And she sounds sick. And angry.

"Listen here, Ed-NERD Alan Munson," the girl hisses sassily. " I KNOW I did not just hear you tell my brother that he is coming in even when HE TOLD YOU why he can't. It's giving desperate. It's giving exploitation of your employees. If you want my brother to come in for a half shift at your stupid gentlemen's club then you best pull up to our residence, YOURSELF, with them spicy chicken wings level Creeping. Death. My tongue? It needs to be on FIRE. My eyes? They need to be burning from the temperature and sauce. My sinuses? BOYYY, you better be-LIEVE they oughta be SO CLEAR, I could cough up a loogie, SPIT IT OUT THE WINDOW, and have it smack you RIGHT UPSIDE THE HEAD SO HARD you won’t even THINK about forcing my brother to do something he isn’t comfortable doing again. Keep trying me, motherfucker. THE FUCK WRONG WITCHU."

Steve is flabbergasted. Eddie's mouth is wide open. You would’ve thought Lucas’s sister was on speakerphone but she wasn’t.

You're scared of Erica Sinclair. And so is Eddie, the way his eyes widen at her spiel. If Lucas's sister ever got into a heated argument with Billy, Billy would go home crying.

“And some sweet potato fries," she adds softly. "Please. Do we have a deal?"

"At your service," Eddie deals her a salute through the phone, even though she can't see it. "Anything Applejack wants, she gets. I'll be over after my Meijer run."

"As you should, sir."

Eddie turns to you after he hangs up the phone. "Don't ever own a business."

——————— 🛒—————

“WE GROW UP AND MOVE AWAY... The seasons pass, but the monsters stay.”

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

Hellfire is Eddie’s baby. The man lives and breathes that strip club.

As much as you’ve already harbored that suspicion, you didn’t realize his work-life balance was practically non-existent. Running errands. Frequent call-outs. Always having to prepare for the unexpected. But that’s the price one pays for owning a business. It also only seems to get harder and harder when you’re a handsome business man like Eddie, someone with the drawing power like that of a 13,000 gauss magnet.

“Mike to Munson, do you copy?”

You and Eddie have hit the road now, ready to start your errands run before your shift begins. As Eddie drives, he has you hold his phone up for him while he speaks to the boys in their group FaceTime call.

“Copy,” Eddie responds. “Thank you for covering ground, dear Paladin. It is because of you we are no longer… short staffed.”

God, they’re such dorks. You’d cringe if Eddie didn’t have the sex appeal of a Roman god.

“It’s the least I can do,” Mike insists. “Taking inventory as we speak. We need more ground chili and pop cans. Cola and Fanta, please. When you go to Meijer.”

“Done deal,” Eds nods. “Who’s doing side quests?”

“Me!” Will chimes in. “Doing silverware, stainless steel, and just helping Jonathan open up the bar.”

“Thank you, Byers-squared.”

“And I’ll sweep and do windows,” Dustin adds. “We’ll figure out the front house situation as it unfolds. Gonna be a little late. Getting gas.”

Eddie places a firm palm over your hand. He smiles at you when you look over.

“Running errands with Shy Girl, we’ll see you soon.”

“Pulling in now. Over.”

“Us too. Over.”

“Over and out, boys.”

————- 🚐———-

After your Meijer run, you and Eddie stop by CVS for Wayne’s medications and the ‘morning after’ pill. And shortly after that, you two haul ass to the other side of town to scoop up Nina.

Eddie gives the young dancer a ride to work almost every day. He also smokes her out before the shift, evident by her waltzing in stoned out of her mind all the time. It brings you peace knowing the whole story now, and that there truly is nothing more to it than that.

“Your boyfriend really needs a new car,” Eddie huffs to Nina as she climbs into the backseat. “Been telling him that shit’s on it’s last good tire.”

Figuratively and literally. The 90s Buick that you caught sight of shortly before Nina shuffled in can only be described as a lost cause. Nina knows it too, the way she scowls at the thing.

She tsks as she clicks her seatbelt in place.

“Duh, Eds. What do you think I’m saving up for?”

Eddie holds up an eighth.

“I can think of a few things,” he chuckles. “I take it you’re a fan of all things eco mode.”

“Hey, it’s 2022, of course we’re going green.”

Eddie grins. “I like how you think, sweetheart.”

Nina looks over to see who’s in the front seat. Her eyes glimmer when she realizes it’s you.

“Oh, hey Shy Girl!” she cheers.

You smile at her contently. Securely.

“Hey, Neens.”

Eddie starts up his van once again.

“Alright everyone,” he says as he shifts gears. “Hold onto something. We’re on a tight schedule so expect some Eddie Stops.”

“Not this again,” Nina mutters.

“Oh boy…” you add.

SKRRRT!

———— 🏠 ————

After dropping both Nina and the groceries off at Hellfire, you and Eddie set out to Forest Hills Trailer Park to visit his infamous Uncle Wayne.

“Wayne’s the man,” Eddie boasts as he drives on. “Taught me how to fish. Somehow taught me how to drive. Automatic and stick.”

He laughs at that one.

“Even took me out of the foster care system when I was 16. I lived in his old room for years while he took the pull-out couch in the living room.”

“Foster care?” you echo as he nods. “He was tired of you jumping from home to home?”

“Nah, I just kept running away,” Eddie cackles. “If a kid was ever in the police station for something, nine times out of 10 it was probably me. I was stressing way too many people out, Uncs probably felt bad for them.”

“But he also loves you, I bet,” you grin. “You’re his nephew, Eddie.”

Eddie smiles too. “Yeah, somethin’ like that.”

Eddie pulls into an empty dirt road just yards from the estate. You two climb out of the van together, slamming the doors in unison.

Eddie leads you up the stairs by the hand, then uses his other one to wave at old neighbors close by.

“Hey y’all! How ya doin’?” he exclaims. He lowers his voice when he speaks to you. “Those are the Johnsons. Their sons were frequent customers of mine in high school.”

Your eyes widen in shock. Eddie waves to another pair of neighbors.

“And those are the Jacobsons. I bought their sons alcohol their senior year for homecoming. Buncha lightweights though. Wouldn’t recommend.”

“Well aren’t you a hero,” you jest.

“Hey, someone’s gotta pay the bills,” Eddie shrugs, half-jokingly. “You would think 40 years at The Plant gave you a decent insurance plan but that wasn’t the case. Had to help Wayne out for a fat minute. Still do every now and then.”

Eddie shifts closer to the door and gives it a couple knocks. He leans his head towards the doorframe, placing his lips just inches away from the chipped, painted wood.

“Wayne Munson,” Eddie bellows in his playful, deep voice. “It’s your friendly neighborhood pharmacist here. I’ve come with your percs, your piss pill, and your Motrin.”

Percocet and Motrin.

Two very strong pain killers. Hearing those names send chills down your spine. Those are the same meds Mom overdosed on when Billy found her.

But given Wayne’s circumstances, it’s not too much of a concern. According to what Eddie has told you, his uncle had just retired and is very frail. Heavy machinery and long hours can do that to someone. Just constant, chronic pain.

The door swings open and you hear Eddie greet Wayne like a grateful man would greet his dad. “Hey, Old Man! How are you?”

“Hello, there my boy. Agh, watch it. ‘s hurtin’ again.”

It didn't seem like anyone was at the door when you look over. But that was because you were looking about two feet too high.

Your eyes travel to the level at which Eddie bends down and there you see Uncle Wayne, having wheeled himself to the door to greet Eddie with a warm hug.

Oh this goes deeper than you thought.

A nose cannula. Yellow grippy socks. The wheelchair that housed his thin, fragile body. The navy blue Pacers beanie that concealed the fact that the man had very little hair.

Wayne’s face was extremely chiseled in, deeming him malnourished and underweight. The bags under his eyes that drooped heavily against his sockets took up a good portion of his face — nearly half.

You look at the place behind him. His trailer had lots of rails installed, Ensure protein shakes for adequate nutrition, and the pull out couch was set up to look like a bedroom, with a collapsible dresser right beside it that was nearly lost in a sea of orange medicine bottles.

The realization nearly knocks the wind out of you.

Wayne is sick. He almost looks terminal.

It feels like the ground had opened up and swallowed you whole. Your knees feel wobbly like gelatin, but Eddie is too busy reuniting with his father figure to notice. When he turns back around, he pulls you into him, with the biggest smile on his face.

“There’s uh, someone I want you to meet,” Eddie says to Wayne, his cheeks now a deep shade of pink. “This is Shy Girl.”

“Shy Girl,” Wayne smiles the same bright smile that Eddie has. “So you’re the THEE Shy Girl that my Eddie’s been rambling to me about. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, sweetheart.”

You meet Wayne where he’s at, shaking his cold hand at eye level and giving him the warmest smile you can.

“It’s nice to meet you as well, Mr. Munson.”

“Mr. Munson,” Wayne smirks cheekily. There’s a hint of who he used to be when he does that. He was most likely a firecracker just like Eddie, evident by how the two start poking at each other in a teasing manner. “Didn’t realize we were at a business meeting. In that case, we shall not waste any time. You and Eddie can come on in now, Miss Hargrove.”

Butterflies form in your stomach. You never told Wayne your last name.

And soon you’re in Wayne’s trailer, Eddie’s old home before he grew his wings and left the nest. A bittersweet energy floods the room. It only becomes more prominent when you see Eddie and Wayne holding hands as they make their way inside.

“Welcome to my office,” Wayne proceeds, carrying on with the banter. “I’ve got some tea in the cupboards, as well as some stale saltines because this one over here thinks I should watch my sodium intake. You’re more than welcome to help yourself.”

“Thank you so much,” is all you’re able to say.

“No worries, doll.”

Wayne darts his gaze back over to Eddie. “Anywho. Now that the formalities are over… son, I need to take a shit.”

The same dry humor too. You giggle and glance over at Eddie while he grimaces at Wayne in annoyance. But, since it’s not his first rodeo, he obliges, unlocking Wayne’s wheelchair to wheel him over to the commode that was concealed behind a DIY curtain.

“Did you do your exercises today?” you hear Eddie ask him.

"I tried. Got tired ‘bout halfway through.”

“What are your oxygen levels looking like?”

“Satting 88 percent without my oxygen. 93 percent on three liters.”

“That’s what we like to see. Good job, baby. I’m proud of you.”

You stand off to the side, giving Wayne as much privacy and dignity you can throughout this very intimate ordeal.

While Eddie is away with him, you keep yourself distracted with Wayne’s mug collection, as well as the array of trucker hats that decorated one of the four walls. You take a look at what’s on the TV: The Price is Right is just about to go on a commercial break. And on the coffee table rested an assortment of dated magazines, all going back to as early as 2008. Ah yes, recession core.

Within a few short moments, Eddie comes back out. You study him as he makes his way to the kitchen to wash his hands, making faces at the friendly neighborhood cats who liked to make themselves at home on the porch.

“Anyways!” Eddie exclaims. “I’m gonna start making Erica’s wings cuz we got everything here.”

He starts back over to you.

“But before I do, want me to show you my old room? It’s like a huge time capsule. Wayne hasn’t touched it since I left.”

You can barely meet his eyes. Eddie is acting way too normal about this. Or maybe you’re too dramatic.

He sees you frowning, thinking.

“…You okay?” he attempts with you.

"Eds... I didn't know," you whisper softly.

But Eddie smiles a bit. "That's okay. I initially didn't want you to know."

"How bad is it?"

"Stage 3. Lung cancer."

"How long has he had it?"

"Siiiince… March of 2020?” Eddie recalls. "We initially thought it was covid because of all the pulmonary stuff..."

He gestures around his own lungs.

"So what started out as a — rather intimate — nose swab turned into a biopsy that turned into getting a team of specialists….”

He glances over at Wayne to make sure he’s still okay.

“To having uncomfortable talks with the case worker about...exploring other options... And then to me being his full-time caregiver."

"March of 2020..." you recall. "Isn't that the same time you and Isabelle got divorced?"

"We were finalizing it..." Eddie corrects you. “But that’s neither here or there.”

“And Hellfire?”

“We were struggling for a bit not gonna lie,” Eddie chuckles. “It was during the start of covid and no one wanted to leave the house. Even when the babes were smoking hot.”

Holding up a palm, you stop him from explaining any further.

“So let me get this straight,” you state. “Your piece of shit dad UNALIVED your mom in cold blood when you were a kid, your father figure has cancer. You somehow manage to care for him full-time all while basically living at Hellfire, your business that your ex wife tried to SABOTAGE; which led to you getting arrested and released on bail up until your trial where you were then proven NOT GUILTY. But even then, your reputation still remains slightly tainted because almost everyone in Hawkins is a narrow-minded, self-righteous prick who weaponizes religion to get an upper hand? And they know you’re an easy target so that’s exactly what they did in this case, making your life and Wayne’s a living hell when it was the last thing you two needed at the time?”

“It be like that sometimes.”

Eddie flashes you a sarcastic, ‘I’m alive’ peace sign. He’s not helping.

Your heart just about shatters.

Eddie has suffered so much. But he hides it so well with his never-ending sarcasm and Munson magic.

And to think all of this — Hellfire, Wayne, and divorcing Isabelle — went down a couple years ago. He still had his childhood to sort through. If that's even plausible.

“It’s also kinda why Chrissy and I were screwing around,” Eddie adds, snapping you out of your thinking. “Apparently I was constantly depressed and she wanted to keep me distracted and all. Again, fun. But very short-lived.”

You fall into him and squeeze him tight. Eddie is almost taken aback by it. But nevertheless, he returns the favor.

"Are you alright?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" you demand. "You have all of this going on and you're asking me if I'm alright?"

Oh, how lonely Eddie must’ve felt through all of this. You just want to hold him. Take away all of his pain.

It’s always the angels on earth who get sent to hell and back. Eddie deserves the world, and you’re going to go your best to give it to him.

"Are we alright?" you question him.

"Of course we're alright," Eddie insists, ruffling your hair like it’s the silliest thing you’ve ever asked him.

He pulls away from you. Rubs your back delicately as you soak in all of this new information.

“You sure you want to sign up for all of this?”

You are absolutely more than sure.

“Now why would you even ask that?” you choke. “You know my stubborn ass. I’m not backing down without a fight.”

“Yeaaah,” Eddie squints. “I guess you are pretty stubborn.”

You fall into one another again, kissing each other like it’s the air you need to breathe. Eddie delicately cups your face with his hands, relishing in the last couple of smooches before he pulls away.

“I like stubborn though.”

“You and me, Eddie.”

“You and me, sweetheart.”

“Eddie!” Wayne calls, innocently interrupting the moment. “I’m done, boy, now come help me get up.”

“Comin’!” Eddie cranes his neck, shouting in Wayne’s general direction. He kisses you one more time on the forehead before excusing himself. “Be right back, babe.”

You and Eddie leave for Hellfire shortly after spending a little bit more time with Wayne.

The entire ride there, you let Eddie talk about his memories with his uncle… how he’s attended homecoming rallies, talent shows, graduations, and the less-than-celebratory court hearings — loving Eddie unconditionally through thick and thin. He was there for Eddie’s senior prom, snapping photos of him with the boys and his date Ronnie, who was also his best friend at the time.

Wayne was also there for Eddie’s wedding, even though he didn’t particularly like Isabelle. Again, every milestone, Wayne was there for.

You fawn over Eddie as he continues to talk, the spark in his eyes never leaving for as long as it’s about his loved ones. You can only hope he talks to Wayne and the others about you in the same way.

You can’t believe this is real life.

From here on out, it’s going to be you and Eddie. And you’re going to be by his side no matter what, because he’s proven to you that he is committed to doing the same.

From here on out, it’s going to be Shy Girl and Eddie… and nothing… NOTHING will ever change your mind or get in the way of that.

🏷️ tag list: @chrrymunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n , @corrodedcoffincumslut , @bebe07011 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @chelebelletx , @imonhereforareasonsadly , @eddies-trailer-babe @hideoutside , @motherfckerr , @jxpsi , @lindseyj23, @sidthedollface2 , @manda-panda-monium , @elvendria , @micheledawn1975 , @hereforshmut , @siriuslysmoking , @nymphetkoo , @m-chmcl-rmnc , @justinelittlewoodsworld , @ahoyyharrington , @keepittoyourselftellnobodyelse @kellyxo1 @emsgoodthinkin @winchester-angel @chloe-6123 , @redbarn1995 @angietherose @kiyastrf94 , @purplewitchcauldron @kellsck @joyfulfxckery @munsons-mayhem28 @dragonfire @emma77645 @drivelikenina @livosssblog @thinkingth0ts @hugdealer @ellielunamckay

#eddie munson #joseph quinn #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #joe quinn #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #Spotify

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calamansi-town · 18 days ago

Text

✿ January ✿

Hello Everyone!

Welcome to Calamansi Town, a growing and bustling forest town full of friendly animals ♡

Please make sure you stop by our Visitors Center to obtain a travel ID photo taken with a cute Picrew!

Calamansi Town originally started as a small farming town. The weather here is actually perfect for growing the tastiest strawberries! One of our founding members, Mallow, started a strawberry farm here and began holding weekly farmers markers in the summer months. The export of Mallow's strawberries and busy farmers markets helped Calamansi Town grow to the lively metropolis it is today!

Along with this thriving fruit market, we also started with a small flowershop, a cafe, and a bakery. Today, Calamansi Town is home to many shops, cafes, restaurants, and even a theme park! We have prepared some souvenirs for you to take home to commemorate your first visit!

4x6" vinyl sticker sheet featuring some popular souvenirs such as a Calamansi Float, strawberry chiffon cake, and commemorative Calamansi Town mug ♡

2x3: mini decorative (non-vinyl) sticker sheet with me, the assistant mayor Clover!

A bonus 1.3" clear circle stamp-style sticker with your arrival date

A physical Calamansi Town ID card for you to fill out! (this item will be available to all new patrons in the mailable rewards tier)

We hope you'll enjoy the rest of your visit as well as all the attractions, delicious foods, and fun times we have to offer. Have a wonderful time!

With love,

Clover 🍀

#monthly log

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whole-circus · 2 years ago

Note

hi! since your requests are open, could I ask for some room hdc?? with characters of your choice 🧎‍♀️

please take care of yourself and take your time!!

Creepypastas room headcanons!

➥ Jeff the Killer, Homicidal Liu, Eyeless Jack, Ben Drowned, Clockwork and Hobo Heart

Oh hi and thank you!! Here you go sweetie! If you wanted someone more then feel free to uptade!! :33

.•┈••✦ 🖤 ✦••┈•.

☆ Jeff the Killer

What a stinky men. Im sorry but his room is messy for sure and you can't convince me otherwise! Dirty clothes, empty cans, leftovers, stains..man, hire him a maid or something. Some dead plants and messy grafitties, stolen traffic signs and construction boards! Propably never in his life made bed, and his sheets aren't changed often.

Definitely has many band posters on his walls too! Maybe some vinyls too?? Mostly the black, red and grey colours can be seen. Hates the big light, so usually sits in dark or with small lamp. His drapes 24/7 covered. He is emo and plays loud music.

Smells like cigarettes and like room that hadn't been aired for long time.

☆ Homicidal Liu

Pretty, clean and organized room! The only 'messy' thing could be mugs he forgot to clean (same tho). Im sure he has gramophone and listen some of this old, silly, romantic songs! Also - a lot of plants, maybe even lego flowers? Couple of this aesthetic posters, some gobelins, small paintings. Photos with his friends, S/O! His bed is almost always well made. He have many books, and an easel (what an art hoe of him).

Mostly green, brown and beige colours. He loves natural light and candles, and if the weather is nice then his windows are open.

His room smells like cleaning detergents, soil and candles (usually the flower ones).

☆ Eyeless Jack

Soo..his room is not as clean, but its caused by his wild side. On his walls and furnitures are many straches from his hands (or even teeth!). Otherwise? You don't have to worry about surviving visiting his room, you have high chance to not caught anything! I would say his room is pretty dark, only becasue his walls are in gloomy colours - maybe not black, but gray, green or navy blue (all in dark shades).

Let's pretend that he actually was into medicine before all his tragic events..pls? Propably has some decorations, like skeleton, anatomy-related posters! Also likes to keep his blinds shut, he is pretty hypersensitive in terms to hearing, sight, smell. And maybe..he would have this small, funny fridge in his room, you know - to keep his..food..fresh!

About the smell..maybe a bit of blood? And something rotten? But its not that strong tho!

☆ Ben Drowned

Musty, dusty and rusty room, but we still love him! He would clean once in a while, and he do that very solid..but that doesn't last long - his room gets messy very easly. When he isnt gaming then he is sleeping..pretty productive, huh? Bed is never made, lots of junk food wrappers, empty (or not) cans..

LED lights 25/8! His room is pretty dark, propably never seen the sun. On his walls are posters from movies, anime and games. Has pretty professional gaming set when it comes to computer (I would describe it but i only know that computer need screen and keybord lol). High chance of having some psp gaming corner! Like bean bag pouffe, TV and stuff. Also! Collects figures like funko pops, anime figures, nendoroids. Ben have pretty nice Lego collection too!

His room smells like sweat and energy drinks.

☆ Clockwork

A bit messy, but in this aesthetic way - in other way, chaos under control! You know, some clothes at the floor or on chair..some dirty mugs..and her trash can is a bit too full..but as I said - everything looks pretty planed..! She has many blankets and plushies (she would never admit to that tho) on her bed.

In her room dominates mostly shades of dark green and white! Has many fun stuff in her room - rocks, animal skulls..sorry fellow animal lovers, promise they were found! But also a guitar! Full jewelry holder - and they are all well made! Thats why they are a bit too messy.. And she keeps many fake plants, she sucks at taking care of them. Clockwork has many string lights in various shapes!

Dunno, but I cant really assign smell of her room! Maybe something like dust and coffee?

☆ Hobo Heart

Ahh I miss this pretty boy to be honest! His room is clean, end of the sentence, thats it. I also think that he would have some pet in terrarium or aquarium - lizard, frog or just some fishes. Even if they are small, he treat them with proper respect and like the family members!

Has white walls with paintings and photos of his friends/SO, but most of the decorations are in shade of red. Also vinyls as decorations and posters of his favorite singers/bands (m sorry but he totally looks like somoene listening to Lana Del Ray vibes T^T) - all in this 'aesthetic way'! Simple light bed sheets, and when his bed is made (which is pretty often) he put pillows that have this silly shapes. Like to keep his room natural lightened and loves candles!

His room smells pretty like vanilia, but its not a strong scent.

.•┈••✦ 🖤 ✦••┈•.

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miasmaghoul · 3 months ago

Note

Swisstom monster au

maybe Phantom/Aeon is the ghost haunting the house Swiss just bought and they have to figure shit out cus Swiss is NOT leaving

He's tried everything. Rearranging the furniture, making the walls bleed, possessing a suspiciously well-worn teddy bear - none of it has worked, and to call Aeon frustrated would be an understatement.

He hovers over his home's new owner, scowling at his sleeping face. He's spalyed out on his back, one hand in his boxers and snoring like a lumberjack. Aeon pokes two ghostly fingers into his mouth just because he can. It doesn't do much, but he imagines the guy gagging and it makes him feel marginally better.

"What's your thing, huh?" He floats around the sparsely decorated bedroom, its walls still lined with half-unpacked boxes. "Disembodied voices, maybe? Spooky kids at the end of a long hallway? That one took care of the last guy..."

Aeon grumbles to himself, peering into a box that seems to be full of vinyls and shifting its contents while he considers his options. He's too caught up in thoughts of turning the guy's bathwater to ice with him still in it to notice the rustle of sheets. So imagine his surprise when he hears a tired chuckle just over his shoulder.

"You gotta do better than that," Swiss tuts, reaching right through his phantasmic form to shut the box Aeon's been pawing through. Obviously he remains unseen, but seeing an arm poke through his chest still isn't the nicest thing. "You're not gonna disorganize me outta here, spook. I watch the Paranormal Activity movies for fun."

Aeon may have been dead for damn near twenty years now, but he can still pout with the best of them.

#miasma's work #ask games #trick or treat aus #thia is so dumb im sorry #aeon ghoul #swiss ghoul #phantom ghoul

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ireallyliketalldarksultrymen · 2 months ago

Note

for writing stuff, lizzie & mumbo perhaos? i think they'd be a silly duo (ooh if u want maybe as a hypothetical double life pair?) /vnf

lizzie and mumbo are such sillies <333 (you can find this fic here on ao3!)

—

Never in all his years did Mumbo imagine him and Lizzie having a sleepover—Void, he never expected them to be friends. Their personalities clashed, practically worlds apart; while she was outgoing and effortlessly warm, Mumbo tended to be reserved, fading into the background at times. He’d long assumed friendship between them would be improbable, if not impossible.

Yet here Mumbo was, hands folded politely as he sat on Lizzie’s bed, cross-legged atop hot pink sheets. Lizzie herself was at the vanity in front of him, chatting animatedly as she rummaged through her drawers. Her space buns bobbed with her words, and Mumbo watched, almost mesmerized.

As he listens to her ramble, loud and clear over the song humming on the record player, Mumbo’s allows for his eyes to drift around the room, taking a moment to admire her decor.

Joel didn’t exaggerate when he told him her bedroom was pink—in fact, he downplayed it. The walls, the drapes, the lamp, they were shades from chewed bubblegum to carnations. The latter so happened to rest in a rose pink clay pot on the windowsill.

There are few contrasts to the rest of the room; stood inches from her dresser was a bookshelf, which barely held novels. Sea shells and rocks painted in their own ways sat on the ledge, detailed in acrylic paints. Vinyl records lined the remaining shelves in a rainbow gradient, dark reds bleeding into deeper violets. Mumbo makes a mental note to ask her about her favorite artist.

Right of the windowsill is a poster of band he’d always be familiar with. Gem, Impulse, and Scott were posed with their instruments on the stage of their very first venue, sporting shirts tailored to their favorite colors, accompanied by embroidered initials.

When Mumbo squints hard enough, he can make out the cursive written in Sharpie on the top corner, which is marked with three different signatures that vary in neatness.

A platter of what were formerly cookies was put aside at the foot of her bed, crumbs and chocolate chunks its only remains. Mumbo’s only a tiny bit embarrassed to admit to scarfing down the cookies after the first bite.

Without warning, the bed dips as Lizzie plops down beside him, carefully balancing a handful of nail polish bottles. She grins, simping the assortment between them. “Alright!” she exclaims, looking excited. “What color are we going for?”

Mumbo glances down at the small, powerful army spread out across the blanket and realizes he has absolutely no idea where to start.

After a moment’s hesitation, he thinks he’s settled on a shade, from his peripheral catches his eye, so Mumbo’s positive he’ll settle on that one—but, no, turns out there’s a whole other color that suits him better and, oh, he’s lost.

At this point, his hand hovers over one bottle before he snatches it back, repeating the gesture with the caution of someone touching a hot stove.

Finally, he groans, pulling his hands over his face. “Sorry, I just—“

“It’s okay!” Lizzie’s voice is warm and steady, coaxing Mumbo to pull away his hands away from his face.

He looks up and her smiling at him with a reassuring glint her eyes, full of understanding. “Here, let me see if…”

Lizzie starts to rifle through the pile, nose scrunched as her eyes carefully examines each bottle, and moment Mumbo feels ridiculous, fully convinced they wouldn’t be able to find the right color for him, but the gasp Lizzie lets grasps his attention.

“A-ha!” She triumphantly holds up a bottle, brandishing it like a prized trophy. “Looks like we’ve found your match!”

Lizzie brings up her other hand, placing her nails and the bottle side by-side. “It’s the shade I’m wearing!” she explains, grinning.

Mumbo tilts his head, studying the polish in her hand. The bottle was half-filled with a rose-gold paint, which shimmer slightly with glitter. He feels a smile tug at his lips. “It’s…perfect.”

Lizzie lets out a cheer, raising her arms in victory. The sight of her happy makes a sense of pride coil in Mumbo’s stomach.

Once her enthusiasm settles, she reaches over and gently presses her and Mumbo’s palms together. “See? Now we can even be matching!”

Mumbo looks at the hands, grinning at the sight of her painted nails against his plain ones. He can’t help but feel a flutter of excitement. So towards the end of the night, when the lamp on the bedside table is turned off and the sound of crickets chirping can be heard beyond the window, Mumbo settles in his sleeping bag, admiring his nails as they glow in moonlight.

#fics #requests #ldshadowlady #lizzie ldshadowlady #mumbo jumbo #trafficblr #i heard they’re called detective duo #but if they’re called smth else please lmk!!#detective duo

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xfandom-fairyx · 2 months ago

Text

marching band au

bakugo fic

here goes nothing..

—————————————————

My car slowed as I turned the corner onto the road that held the dorm house I would be staying in for the next 4 years of my life. The sun was already going down, not quite setting, but the sky was already turning pinkish orange, rays of golden light peeking through the trees that were scattered amongst the houses I passed by. I took a deep breath, trying not to gape at the building at the end of the cul de sac, as I pulled up the cement driveway— where no other cars were parked. I sighed thankfully. Being the first person here meant I got first dibs on the bedrooms, the thought alone sending a wave of excitement through me. The house was gorgeous, and freaking huge. (How many roommates was I supposed to have, again?..)

Double checking I had the correct address from the email in my phone, I pulled my keys from the ignition, fumbling to find the key to the front door. The heat outside was suffocating compared to the cool AC from my car, making me want to quicken my pace a bit to get inside. Deciding to grab the rest of my luggage after a quick look around and picking my room, I grabbed my backpack and purse before heading up the stairs to the front door. The entrance was framed by a beautiful wrap around porch, a few chairs, benches, and a porch swing adorning the wooden planks on each side of the door. Gently swinging the painted blue door open, I took my first steps inside my new (temporary) home, my chest tight with emotion.

The foyer was a bright space, a few meters wide, but felt cozy. Along the wall to the left was a deep blue, cubby-like bench with coat hooks, cabinets and a shoe rack, while the right wall had an oak table with a beautiful crystal decorative bowl, a fake potted plant and a circular mirror. Placed on the table beside the bowl was a slip of paper that had a list of utilities with passwords, app suggestions, and numbers for the local emergency services since we lived off campus. I quickly snapped a picture of and saved it to my favorites album, a subtle reminder to download the security app for the house, and a separate app for the security cameras. I moved to the left again and placed my keys on the cubby hook on the far right, kicking my slides off to set them on the shelf below my keys, my fingers gently grazing the navy stained wood. I was in no real rush as I stepped to the end of the foyer, taking it all in.

“Holy shit.. wow..” was all I could muster in my awe. The house smelled like oak wood and vanilla— the sweet woody combination fit just right in my head and sent me reeling to see the rest of the place I would call home. The bottom floor had a completely open floor plan where I could see everything from almost every angle across the house. To my right, a deep sectional sofa fit for 10 sat in a semi U shape, a chaise piece attached to run parallel with the longest side of the sofa, the whole thing facing a wall with a 75” flat screen, and a decent sized electric fireplace below it. Sat in the corner about 10 feet away from the sofa was a sleek, black grand piano, surrounded by a corner bookshelf that was full of sheet music, vinyl records, CD’s and memorabilia. My eyes flickered to the other side of the space to a grand kitchen, granite countertops, a huge island with a second barn sink, beautifully crafted cabinets, stainless steel appliances (which were huge, by the way! An 8 range stove?? A fridge big enough to hold food for a football team?! Christ!), and a walk-in pantry to top it off? I was in absolute heaven, daydreaming of the cooking and baking I would have so much fun doing in this kitchen.

I made my way to the left, because behind the formal dining table that sat 6 feet from the giant island in the kitchen, was a wide staircase leading upstairs to a loft area, where I assumed the bedrooms were also. There were a few more doors that I would get to later, assuming one was another bathroom or bedroom, and at least one of them led to the garage.

The loft area sat mostly above the kitchen, dining room and above the piano, leaving a full view of the living room area, and the ability to see at least half of the kitchen and dining room from the side opposite the stairs, and the hardwood floors throughout the entirety of the main and second floors. The loft itself had a study area with a few desks lined against the wall; all 4 of them fit at least two chairs, a work lamp on each surface, and a table in the corner that had a computer with a printer, which I quickly assumed was going to be strictly for homework.

As I made my way down the hallway to our bedrooms, I opened each door to peek inside and see which room I would like most. There were 2 spare bathrooms and 8 bedrooms total on this floor, with the two at the very end of the hallway having their doors 45° angled into the hallway. I opened the bedroom to the right first, and immediately fell in love with the wide space, huge windows, walk-in closet, and a third door that I could only guess was my own bathroom. Giddiness flooded my system as I opened the door and saw I was right. I set my bag on the queen sized bed in the space I couldn’t wait to decorate, and decided I should go get the rest of my stuff and start unpacking. It was dusk now, which meant I didn’t have much more time to get my stuff before night fell over the house, so I slipped downstairs and back into my sandals, flicking the porch light on.

The first load I needed to bring upstairs was my bedding, and if I had enough hands, I could grab my laundry bag. I still didn’t have a clue where the laundry room was, but I figured I would figure that out later. Getting back upstairs and to the end of the hallway had my lungs and legs burning, and I groaned out loud at the several other trips down and back up those stairs I would have to make tonight.

“Ugghhh, fuck!” I groaned, pulling my shirt away from my body rapidly, trying to fan myself. By the 5th trip to my car, I was sticky from sweat, out of breath, red in the face and regretting life, but it was my last load to carry before I could stay inside and relish the cool air of the central cooling system. My last suitcase of clothes and a medium sized box that had my favorite dog’s ashes amongst other sentimental items were in my arms as a big black truck came down the road and to a stop in the driveway next to my Camry. I looked away, trying to juggle the box and suitcase around so I could shut the door of my car, the box slipping from my grasp. Just as I was about to drop that super important box, a second pair of hands reached out to help.

“Woah! Careful! Do you need some help?” A voice asked. My panicked eyes met kind vermillion, that gentle tenor voice belonging to a boy with long red hair that was tied back, a touch of black at his roots. His smile was just as sweet as it lit up his face.

“Yeah,” I said breathlessly, “some help would be great!” He grinned wider, gesturing for me to go ahead of him.

“Lead the way, pretty lady,” he charmed. As if my cheeks weren’t red enough from the exertion, more heat crept up my neck and bloomed in my face. I huffed out a giggle, making my way around the car, leading the redhead up the steps and through the house to my room. I opened the door for him to come in and set the box on my bed, and he let out a low whistle.

“Nice space, can’t wait to see what you do with it,” he commented, a cheeky grin plastered on his face.

“Oi, Shitty Hair, you gonna get your shit out of my car or what? Stop flirting, you just met her,” a voice came from behind him. I peeked around the redhead’s shoulders to catch a glimpse at what looked like Adonis himself. A tall, sculpted blonde with gorgeous ruby eyes was scowling in our direction, his gaze narrowing as he saw me.

Shaking the scrutiny from his gaze off my shoulders, I turned my attention back to the redhead in front of me, trying not to let my gaze wander to his bare arms that were shown off from his cut off t-shirt.

“I’m y/n, by the way. Thank you for helping me with my stuff,” I grinned, holding my hand out for a handshake. He grinned back widely, but instead of shaking my hand, he held his arms out and pulled me into a hug, shocking me at first, but I absolutely hugged back. He felt so warm and his chest was cushioned, (not to mention he smelled amazing! Like marine moss, citrus and driftwood..)

“Name’s Eijiro, but you can call me Kiri, if you want,” he said over my shoulder, giving me a gentle squeeze before letting go, turning to head back downstairs. As I stepped into the hallway to follow him, two more boys came sauntering into view, one with sunny blonde hair and a black streak in it, the other with raven black hair. They were laughing and giggling at the top of the stairs, trying to trip each other to get to their rooms first, but stopped in their tracks as soon as they saw me. Eijiro chuckled and went around them to get back downstairs. The blonde one dropped all his bags, holding up hand to point a finger at me before shouting,

“GIRL! THERE’S A GIRL IN THE HOUSE!” Like I was some kind of 1600’s witch. The raven-haired boy cracked up, and I could hear Eijiro cackling from downstairs. The ash blonde was coming out of his room from behind me, coming to a halt a few inches from where I stood. I could feel his body heat radiating off of him, the smell of warm honey and sea salt floating to my nostrils.

“Yeah, Sparkplug, she’s a fucking girl. Stop ogling and get back to getting your shit out of my truck.” He said gruffly, grumbling out, “fucking idiot” as he passed us all on his way back downstairs.

Snapping out of my trance, I looked between the new boys in front of me, offering a small smile.

“Anyone up for some pizza and we can do introductions when it gets here?” I suggested, making them grin widely.

I got a, “for sure, man,” from the ravenette, and a, “heelll yeah, brother,” from the new blonde to cement my decision, and I grabbed my phone to open up the Domino’s app.

. • ° * ° • . … . • ° * ° • .

A/N: first part might be a bit awkward, I haven’t written in a while. (Help me out with tags?) Next part is in the works, hopefully as I get back into it, I’ll be more comfortable and it’ll get better. I can come back and edit later if I feel like it’s missing something. Hope you enjoy 🤍

#bakugou x reader #bnha #katsuki bakugo

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skele-bunny · 6 months ago

Note

*angsts your Special and Cowbell*

You did this to yourself 🫵 (I cried a lil writing this sjdjdj) also ignore the timeline fuckery, I wanted to have his family involved.

In Memory of Our Beloved. (CW)

CW - Death, medium/heavy description of demise

Tags: Heavy angst/light comfort, funeral setting, loss of a family member

Characters: Special, Cowbell, Doves, Sister Imperator, Papas, Misc.

(Divider by @ wrathofrats )

Sunday, May 14th, 2022.

The abbey felt dark. Like they forgot to pay the electric bill, and the company had placed a heavy sheet over the buildings. Over the sun. Clouds threatened rain for the melancholy feeling. Not only that, but it was quiet in the den. The sound of a vinyl playing was gone, no checklist being read aloud, and no one dared to speak. Not even Cowbell, who's eyes laid dark, lost in dissociation as Iris carefully brushed his hair to fix with his suit. Even the Doves had changed to their formal wear of robes decorated in medals and religious pins.

He felt Iris pull his curling locks into a small ponytail, resting against his neck, collar being adjusted. He wasn't focused in on his mate as Iris move around and knelt down to begin placing pins on Bell's tux, adjusting his flower in the breast pocket.

They were precise, careful at each movement. They needed to look their best. After all, they had Phil's funeral to attend.

No words were spoken between the two once Iris finished, gently pressing a kiss to his mate's cheek and standing up to finish helping the others. Bell kept staring out the window as very slowly, rain droplets began to hit the stained glass.

"Hey, Bell." Phil whispered, holding his brother tightly as they stared outside the window.

The tween looked over, their tails intertwined. "Hmm?"

"Do you think it rains for the entire world at the same time, or on certain days?"

Bluebell thought harder, her brows creasing as she tried to figure out the question. "I think... All over the world!"

"Ohh," Phil looked back outside. "I hope Canada isn't flooding. Mother has to fly there soon."

Cowbell felt his hand being squeezed, coming back to reality and noticing they were now outside, somehow he was walking. Black umbrellas and uniforms lined the outside, Bell looking around more and spotting his family ahead once they got inside again. Even they were dressed in their best, Papa Nihil and his brothers in their papal robes. Sister turned, her face puffy from crying and meeting Bell halfway, reaching up and hugging her other son tightly.

"My Bell... Oh, my sweet Bluebell." She cried, holding him even tighter.

He simply hugged back, remaining silent and squeezing. They stood for a moment before more arms joined, his brothers finding a strange comfort between one another. It was strange. They didn't like hugging each other, Sister especially despised hugs. Yet, here they were, huddled together with their Father to the side. Bell gently butted his horns against his mother, the woman stepping back and using her tissue to wipe her eyes, sniffling again.

"We have to start soon... Are you going to be okay?" Primo asked, his hand on Bell's back.

The ghoul simply nodded, fiddling with his fingers. There was no other discussion as they got in formation. Funerals weren't anything new to the ministry, but they were to Bell. The formation was meant to represent the ones left behind by the deceased, ranging from family first with parents in front, to lovers if unmarried. The Doves were married to Special, but opted staying in the back to let the family first.

Papa Nihil and Sister stood in front, Cowbell by himself in the middle, the three retired and one current Papas next, then the Doves.

There was one last whisper of confirmation before they began to walk, a duo of siblings opening the door for them to the chapel. As they arrived, those in the pews, loft, and altar stood to face them. Bell could feel himself choke, stumbling over his own legs that felt too awkward all of a sudden. There was... So many people. Ghouls and siblings he recognized, most he didn't, higher-ups and those from other ministries that came to pay respects. It was the moment he walked past the previous band packs that he really wished he turned his hearing aids off.

The second era was never kind, that was a fact. They despised the Null's once they retired. Yet, Bell couldn't ignore their heavy demeanors and sad eyes, bowing in sync to the family to show their respects. Mist never cried. Yet, there she stood in the arms of Delta sobbing uncontrollably, Zephyr still sat in the aisle with xer chair, unable to control themselves as well. The next forward pews were worse. The current band ghouls were all full of wet eyes and sobs, Dewdrop breaking regulation as he couldn't even look up, face hidden in Aether's chest while his mate did his best to comfort the fire ghoul.

Turning away, Bell couldn't bare to look at anyone else but his view was met with a clear casket. The sides full of floral arrangements and religious items. Candles lined at the floor and curled around the altar, with a few photo stands of the departed in various situations. A single portrait that the entire Emeritus' family had gotten done, one of childhood of Phil's first Halloween, even his wedding photo tossing a bouquet over his head. Each one he was smiling.

It looked off to see his body without one.

Sister and Nihil moved to the alter, while Bell turned off to sit in the very first, empty pew. His brothers followed to the alter as well, Doves sitting next to him. The sound of the organ playing tried to drown out the cries, Bell's eyes locked onto his brother's body.

Repetitive tapping against skin made the eldest groan, sitting up and pushing up his eye mask. He tiredly eyed Cowbell standing hesitantly at his bedside, eyes glancing to the alarm clock that read 4 a.m. He didn't yell, nor give any sign he was angry at the disruption. Instead, he opened his blanket, Bell slowly climbing in. Phil yawned and placed his chin between Bell's horns as he got comfortable again, holding each other close. Bluebell let out a purr, exhaling as he could practically feel his anxiety melt away as he knew he was safe.

Phil looked like he was sleeping.

"Members of the clergy, siblings, ghouls, and those alike. Today, we both honor and remember one of our own for his life and sacrifice. Phil "Special" Emeritus." Papa Nihil spoke, his voice wavering some as he spoke into the small microphone. "Many of you knew him, some even getting the joys to be permanent parts of his life. I, am one of those."

Cowbell tilted his head as he kept staring at the casket, trying to understand how exactly it was put together. Was it placed over Phil? Did the top open? The sides?

"Phil was the first ghoul to be summoned under the ministry here. Many seen him as a standing beacon, a trusted friend, a doctor, or simply family." Nihil looked down at his open book, sniffling just a tiny bit. "Death is something we are not to be afraid of. Rather, welcomed as our unholy father brings us into his arms for eternal rest. He, our savior, can abruptly take those from us. Their lives completed, fulfilled, and task entrusted to them finished—Shall return to our father when he's ready to take them back. Phil has done just that."

Moving his view, Bell noticed a few archbishops, cardinals, and other priests across the row. Did they always wear those silly hats everywhere? His eyes turned further, making eventual eye contact with Sunshine who sadly blew a kiss towards him. He just turned back around after that.

Bluebell slowly began to sway his hooves, looking down at the marble floor as he could see his toes and sole's reflection. His nose wiggled as a clawed hand carefully rested on his knee, looking up at Sarra who was seated next to him. His masked face stayed forwards, but Bell could see the tears in his eyes. Sarra didn't like showing his 'weaker' emotions, but it seemed even he couldn't control himself. Bell watched as Sarra and the others bowed their head, acknowledging his father praying for the mass. The null simply kept his head up.

There was a choir of 'nema', and Papa Nihil had stepped back. Their mother stood forwards. Her eyes were red, and surely must've startled a few of the onlookers. Sister Imperator was a show of strength and determination, never showing any signs of weakness. She was power. To see such a strong woman a bit disheveled was unheard of.

"When I was entrusted with Papa Nihil to summon the clergy's first ghoul of this region, I was over the moon. I hadn't expected what lied ahead of me, however. Years of laughter as I raised a kit. My child. Phil was summoned mistakenly. But he never truly was a mistake to me, or many others. To me, he was my son who had this high pitch laugh that could make your own smile appear. He was a boy who had so much interest in the world, and how his eyes would sparkle learning more and more every day. He was a boy who had terrible acne for his first school dance." She laughed a bit, a small wave of chuckles from the crowd as well.

She continued, "Phil was an older brother who adored his siblings more than anything in this world, he was a son that cared so deeply for his parents, and a husband who loved his spouses with his whole heart."

Was that Agni who sobbed? Bell didn't know.

"He loved everyone in his own unique way. He loved so much, he chose to sacrifice himself in the moment of danger to save the abbey from an attack."

To be truthful, Cowbell didn't know how Special died, yet at the same time he did. He watched it. Papa Copia and a few of them were summoned by a higher-up to attempt a new type of summoning ritual. Special was always included in these things as the eldest and most knowledgeable. Bell had simply stood in the back, still unsure why he was there in the first place.

As the portal engulfed in flames and began to pull, something came out that shouldn't have. There were only two Doves who accompanied, watching as an abomination crawled out with such unearthly screams. Bell remembered fear soaring through his body, grabbing Copia's arm as the wind picked up. The gust had forced the summoning book away, Phil chasing after it while the Doves attempted to either subdue the monster that threatened them.

The abomination had turned, swiping the Doves off their feet. It was just a split second—it felt like—as Special dived for the book, shouting the Latin words to begin closing it. The abomination thrashing harder as it was slowly sucked back in, arm reaching out. It's claws swiped directly for Sarra, and then it made impact with something else.

Bell wanted to think he couldn't remember anything after that. But he could.

The portal closed, the clawed hand severed and was left in a pile of blood. It was quiet as everyone tried to get their bearings, Bluebell watching as Phil laid limp against the portal. Sarra noticed and quickly scrambled over, turning his mate over. He expected sighs of relief. But there was distressed screaming, panic set through instead.

It wasn't painful. Multiple, deep wounds to the carotid and jugular was quick when you accounted for an almost severed head.

But, Bell didn't know that. That's what he wanted to think, wasn't it?

"I'll allow this time for those who wish to speak on the departed for memoriam."

Sister stepped away from the podium, but quickly replaced by Papa Terzo. He didn't even bother hiding his tears, wiping his eyes frantically as he tried to regain himself.

After that, Primo, then Secondo. Even the Doves. Some that worked in the infirmary. Old and current band ghouls, reminiscing when Phil traveled with them and the pure delight they all had. Some he didn't even know.

All but Cowbell.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, looking over to see Sarra giving him a gentle look. "Do you want to go up?" He whispered. "You don't have to."

The null turned to see a Sister of Sin stepping down, guilt flooding his mind and uncertainty. Bell was terrible at public speaking. But he had turned back, looking at his own mate.

"Go with me?"

So, he did. Cowbell held tightly onto Sarra's hand, minding each step as they approached the podium. Licking his lips, Bell kept his eyes down at the wood and closed bible. He couldn't look up. There was just silence before Sarra moved to rub his back encouragingly.

"Hello..." Bell spoke softly, clearing his throat and trying to understand what else to do.

"I'm... Cowbell, or Bluebell to my family." Obviously. "I—"

His tail began to flick erratically, looking at Sarra for guidance. He felt a calm wave of quintessence take over him, Sarra leaning down to whisper.

"Take your time. Everyone understands."

Did they, though?

Sucking in a breath, Bell nodded, turning back. His eyes caught the casket below, Phil's resting face bringing him a bit more comfort despite the situation.

"Just look at me when you do your presentation!" Phil smiled as they walked to class, respectively holding their projects. "That way, you don't have to worry about anyone else. It'll be just me and you!"

Bell kept his eyes locked onto his brother. "Special was older than me by just a few months, but sometimes it felt like a few years. He always carried himself so nicely, was responsible, and succeeded so much... But he was a dummy, too."

Laughter started somewhat. "Our mother never knew this, neither did our father, but we used to sneak out so much to join sibling parties. Hehe, and one time Phil stole Father's car and hit a mailbox with it. We ended up telling him that the dent had always been there, and he somehow believed us!"

Laughter from behind came, Bell turning with a smile to see Nihil laughing, his younger brothers following. His eyes went back to Special's casket.

"He had such a strong love for the music we grew up with. I'm sure the team in the OR know just how much that was. Always having a vinyl on and maybe dancing a bit while he was in the middle of a surgery... Sometimes in the den, he'd just put a record on and pull the nearest person up to dance with."

The tail that had curled up between his legs had begun to wag, smile never leaving. "Oh, Satanas, don't get me started about our childhood. We loved following fashion trends. He had a mullet one time, never again." Bell laughed, shaking his head. "Worst decision."

And he rambled. He rambled on, and on, and on. No one minded. No one interrupted. Bell picked at his own nail as he calmed down his laughter from telling the story of when Special quite literally slipped on a banana peel from Sarra and broke his wing. Even Sarra was laughing.

He calmed down, eyes going soft. "I love my brother... He was—He is the best thing that's ever happened to me... Part of me doesn't want to accept he's gone. That when we get back to the den, The Temptations will be on the record player, and he'll be singing while reading. But the other part of me likes to think he's in paradise, with his wings full and the biggest horns, just sleeping in Greece like he always dreamt about."

"Then there's the tiniest part, where I think he's still here in his own way." He continued, looking at Sarra's hand, rubbing over the wedding ring the dove shared with Phil. "That he's still wandering the halls, still watching over my shoulder, and keeping me safe like he always used to do."

For the first time since five days ago, Bell had started to cry. His ears drooped, shoulders shaking as his mind processed just what exactly the body in front of him meant.

"If he c-can hear me. I want him to know how much I love him. How much I'll miss him. And just... Thank you. For being my brother and my safe space for all these years." Bell stepped back a bit, turning to hide in Sarra's chest. He was held tightly, carefully led back down and sat between him and Aqua that hugged him.

"Do you think we're brothers in every universe?" Bell mumbled, laying against the abbeys roof next to Special.

"I'd like to think so." Phil turned to smile. "Life would be pretty boring without you."

He cried as the ceremony finished.

Phil sang loudly, Bell following, to Dancing Queen as they rolled down the corridor. Phil wearing his roller skates, dragging Bell on his sitting scooter. Was this allowed? Absolutely not.

He cried against Secondo's shoulder as he watched the Doves be pallbearers, leading the mass outside.

When they were kits, Sister and Nihil were uncertain how they'd react to one another. Carefully, they had been laid next to each other on the bed, watching as the two infants whined and wiggled at the new scent of the other. Bluebell squirmed, hand touching Phil's cheek and almost immediately, their little tails linked together and they began to purr. Phil managed to roll to his side, pushing his face against Bluebell's cheek, silently chirping even though Bell couldn't hear him.

He cried as his legs gave out while Special was placed beneath the abbeys only Willow tree that he helped plant.

Sitting at the kitchen table coloring, Phil put down his crayon. "We would make a promise!"

Bluebell held so tightly onto his mother as he hunched over, pressed against her neck and soaking her shirt.

"What kinda promise?" Bell never looked up from her page of strawberry shortcake that he was making green.

"You're okay, you're okay..." She desperately whispered, her nails raking through his hair. "I'm right here."

"Promise that if we ever get split up, like a big tornado! Just boom!" Phil slid his book and crayon two separate ways. "We're apart!" He couldn't stop giggling. "That we'll always find each other again."

More bodies pressed close, Bell opening his eyes a little to stare at the birthmark he and Special shared. In honesty, it was a scar from their summoning. But, they liked it as their birthmark instead.

Bluebell just giggled too, finally looking up from her book to nod. "Okay! I like that. How will we find each other?"

Primo grabbed his hand, squeezing tight and gently kissing his knuckle.

"Oh... Uhm..." Phil thought for a moment, his eyebrows furrowing. He stuck his tongue out as he thought harder before gasping. "We can play mommy's record!"

"The music?"

"Yeah! The music!"

Bell clung to Agni as he was lifted bridal style, hiding his face into his mate's neck. He was up high enough to see the willow tree becoming farther and farther away, whimpering and clinging tighter to the robes he was pressed against.

"We'll put the music on high and just carry it around! So we can hear each other's song and find each other again!"

Bell giggled at the thought again, nodding. "Okay! We'll have to tell mommy to get another one."

"We'll tell her it's for safety!! So we never get separated!"

As they entered the den, Agni carefully placed Bell down into his bed, whispering promises to be right back as he left to get water and comfortable clothes for the null.

Bell sniffed hard, wiping his dirty face on his sleeve. He looked around before getting up, his legs rejecting the activity but he pushed. He opened the record player top, then crouched down to the shelf, flicking through the multiple collections they had grown over the years. His hand stopped on a tricolored case, pulling the vinyl out and delicately placing it down. He turned the player on and sat the needle down as Chet Baker began to play.

He moved and opened the window, facing the record player towards it, and simply stood. His ear flicked expectantly, hands gripping the shelf as he waited for an echo in the distance that would never come.

The identical, second vinyl stayed in the shelf. Untouched. Unopened.

#the band ghost #ghost band #rabrev writing #special ghoul #cowbell ghoul #dove ghouls #cw death #cw death description

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