#i think you posted this weeks ago but I forgot to read it until now

[exopelagic]

WHY DID NOBODY TELL ME BURROWS END WASNT FREE

[lovebugism]

Hi I am begging on my knees for more of your steddie x reader it’s so good I’m crying

BIZARRE LOVE TRIANGLE | baby fever

summary: steve's got a bad case of baby fever. it's not so bad until you start getting sick with it too. eddie has to come up with a solution before all of you fall ill.

pairing: steve harrington / f!reader / eddie munson

a/n: i just realized i haven't posted anything steddie related in almost three months. i am so sorry. this is a total travesty. please enjoy this 3k blurb and find it in your heart to forgive me <3

You squint at the grocery list scribbled on a bright blue sticky note. It’s a mish-mash of all your different handwritings. Some are certainly neater than others. “This just says crabs… I think...”

“It doesn’t say crabs, you loon,” Eddie laughs from where he mans the shopping cart beside you. He’s steering the thing about as well as his van. “It says cereals.”

“No, it says a bunch of gibberish that no one can read but you,” you retort with a giggle of your own as you follow him down the breakfast aisle. “And we just need one box of cereal, alright? Singular.”

He turns to you with a cartoonish pout on his lips. “But why?”

“Because you’re like a kid, Eds. You eat the entire thing in one sitting, and then you’re absolutely haywire for the rest of the day.”

And, just like a child, the boy stands in front of the vibrantly colored boxes of cereal with a wide grin on his face.

The local grocery store was smaller compared to the others in town, but they had every brand of the breakfast food known to man, stacked in neat rows from the floor to ceiling. 

Eddie’s got a twinkle in his eye as his gaze runs over them all. And even though you think it’s all boyish and hilarious, you let him have his fun. 

He grew up unable to enjoy all the goodness of overly sweet cereal because bills and food with actual sustenance were always more important. Now, he’s got a halfway stable job with Wayne at the car shop, and he’s living at his own place with his boyfriend and girlfriend, and he can buy whatever the hell kind of cereal he wants. 

So, as far as he’s concerned, everyone who said he’d never amount to much can suck it. 

And you know you’ll let him buy the whole damn grocery store out of their cereal if that’s what he wants. It’s the least you can do for the world’s best boyfriend — a title he begrudgingly shares with Steve The Hair Harrington.

You’d give him the world if you could, but for now you’ll have to settle for a couple of boxes of Lucky Charms.

“Okay, so the OJ’s we got last time tasted like absolute shit,” Eddie mutters, mostly to himself as he crouches to peer at the lower shelves. “I saw a commercial for Waffle-O’s this morning, and they looked pretty good. But I know you like Breakfast With Barbie and Steve ate a bowl of C3PO’s every day for, like, two weeks, so…”

You stand by the cart and laugh at his rambling. You turn to look behind you with a lighthearted joke sitting on the edge of your tongue. It dissipates when you realize Steve isn’t next to you. 

Instead, he’s still standing at the end of the aisle with his back to you and Eddie — like his feet forgot how to work when he caught sight of the family across the store. It’s a mother and a father, dressed in their mid-weekday finest, with a baby swaddled at their chest and a toddler bouncing in the seat of the shopping cart. 

And you know it’s got the boy totally lost in his own head. You know he's picturing you and him and Eddie as that happy family — the one fills every store you walk into with baby babbles and bubbly laughter. 

Steve told you his senior year of high school he wanted a baby, that he wanted six of them, and that he wanted them all with you. And you were just a stupid seventeen-year-old girl who would’ve done anything he asked you to, though you definitely drew the line at babies. 

But you’re older now, and far more settled than you had been all that time ago. Steve’s ready for a family, but you don’t think you’re anywhere close.

“How about we just compromise and get all three?” Eddie finally concludes with the boxes already in his arms. He dumps them into the cart and notices that your attention is elsewhere. He realizes then that Steve’s gone too because his attention is stuck on a nice family minding their own business. 

“Not again…” he murmurs to himself while you go rescue the boy.

“I’ve never seen someone so sick with baby fever in my life,” you laugh as you drag Steve back to the cart by his wrist.

“I can’t help it!” he defends weakly. “They were so cute! They were all matching and I couldn’t stop thinking about how I can’t wait to coordinate outfits with our baby. Doesn’t that sound like the cutest fucking thing ever?”

“It sounds very adorable, Stevie,” you nod understandingly and try to ignore the way your stomach twists at the thought of him and his baby girl wearing matching pastels every time they step out of the house. “And we can be just like them in five years—”

“Five years?” he gapes.

“Maybe even ten,” Eddie shrugs and nonchalantly tosses a box of Count Chocula into the cart.

“Ten years— You guys are insane if you think I’m waiting ten years to have a kid!” Steve protests with a pair of buff arms crossed boyishly over his chest. “I’m not getting any younger over here, you know that, right?”

“You’re twenty-five, Steve, stop being so dramatic. We’re just now trying to get settled. I’m still in school, you’re still working at Family Video, Eddie’s still… Eddie. Don’t you think we should have actual careers before we have a kid?”

Steve huffs and rolls his eyes, feigning annoyance even though he knows you’re right.

It’s not like he wants to keep working at the stupid store on Main Street. He keeps putting off the conversation with his dad about another job, because he puts off every conversation with his dad. He’s scared of what asking for a position at his firm will do to his pride.

“She’s right, and you know it, Steven,” Eddie tells him, then scoffs. “I mean, can you really imagine me with a baby strapped to my chest on tour?”

You and Steve both pause and tilt your heads to the side as you picture the sight, terribly in sync as always. You can imagine it, quite perfectly actually, tangible enough to touch.

“Well—”

“That’s the cutest thing I think I’ve ever heard,” Steve finishes your thought for you.

Eddie cowers at the sudden attention. “Okay, stop looking at me like I’m a piece of meat, alright? We are not having a kid right now. There’s no fucking way.”

Steve all but deflates at the rejection as Eddie pushes the cart down the aisle, desperate to escape the bubble of tension the conversation had created in the cereal section.

You smile sheepishly over at Steve and wrap your arms through the crook of his elbow, standing on the tips of your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “He’s being grumpy about it, but he’s right… It’s just not a good idea right now— but it will be, okay? One day. Just not… to-day.”

┄

The day, for you, comes exactly seven of them later. 

You accompany Steve on his morning run and his routine stop for coffee. You’re not quite sure how he’s still mobile because your muscles are screaming, even after the warm shower you took to soothe them.

You left him alone for all of half a second to use the bathroom while he ordered drinks for him and you, and something extra for Eddie for when the boy decides to roll out of bed.

When you return, you find him bouncing a baby on his hip — a young thing, maybe three if you had to guess, with two buns in her hair like bunny ears and a sparkly pink dress to match the bows she wears in them.

Steve smiles down at her, talking to her in a baby voice and saying something you can’t hear because you’re frozen in place. You resemble him at the grocery store a week ago, when he was thrown into a daydream so suddenly that his body all but shut down. 

You look at him now, tickling the baby’s sides just to hear her giggle, and you see him with your firstborn — sleep deprived, covered in spit-up, and still the most beautiful human you’d ever seen.

You have to shake your head to remove the thought before it ruins you entirely. 

Freshly jostled from your stupor, you walk over to him. “Steve… Please tell me you didn’t steal someone’s baby.”

He laughs. “What? No! She was just a little fussy, and I offered to take her while her mom looked for something,” the boy explains. You look just behind him to see the woman bent over at one of the smaller tables, sifting vigorously through a large baby bag.

“She doesn’t seem very fussy now,” you observe, eyes flitting between his and the child's and noticing they’ve both got matching grins.

“She doesn’t, does she?” he smiles, softly scratching at her sides again to make her laugh. And she does, most enthusiastically so, tilting her head back and letting the giggles spill from an open mouth.

He turns back to you, with wide eyes and raised brows and a bemused grin. “I like she likes me.”

“Of course, she does,” you scoff. “Babies always like you.”

The mom returns with a snack in hand and a relieved smile. Steve passes the baby back to her with little effort. She whines at the loss of him, though the brightly packaged treat is quick to quell her sorrow. 

“Thanks for taking her,” the mother's grateful smile falters with exhaustion. “If I don’t give her the same snack at exactly the same time every day, she tends to go a little nuts.” 

Steve tells her that it’s no problem, that he was a part-time babysitter at one point in his life, and that her kid was better than those little shits combined. He censors himself before the swear slips out, though.

You go your separate ways when the barista calls out your drink orders and walk hand in hand back to your place.

“Did you get their names?” you ask him before taking a sip of your latte.

“The mom’s name was Maeve and the kid’s name was Harper—”

“Holy shit,” you mutter.

Steve snaps his head over to you because he thinks you’ve burnt your mouth. Instead, he finds you with a distant smile on your face.

“Those are the cutest names I’ve ever heard. It sounds like something out of a fucking cartoon or something.”

“Yeah…” is all he can say because his mind is preoccupied with a million other thoughts. He doesn’t tell you them, obviously, but you know they’re there. The sly smile pulling at his lips makes it obvious.

“…Why are you looking at me like that.”

“Because I’m totally gonna wear you down,” he grins and brings his coffee to his mouth, sipping through his smirk.

You only scoff in response. “Never.”

┄

It doesn’t take you very long to realize that Steve was right.

You spend the rest of the day thinking about it — about him with a baby and how perfect he'd be as a dad. The thoughts plague you far more than they usually do. They take up the entire frontal cortex of your brain and make it nearly impossible to think about anything else.

You’re self-aware enough to beat yourself up about it. 

You were just telling him that it wasn’t time yet, and you knew you were right. As far as you’re concerned, you still have another few good years before you’re ready to even start seriously considering it. 

But here you are, having to calm yourself down every time the thought of Steve Harrington with a baby, your baby, crosses your mind.

You wait until the boy heads to bed to talk to Eddie about it. You find him in the kitchen, eating handfuls of Breakfast with Barbie like a maniac. You’re too preoccupied to make a snarky comment about it.

“Steve wasn’t lying,” you warn him.

“..About what?” he wonders through the mouthful.

“About him not waiting ten years to have a baby! He wants one now!” you explain through a yell-whisper hybrid. “And he told me he was going to wear me down, and he was right.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide too, like he’s just learned you caught some sort of plague. You have. It’s called baby fever, and it’s only a matter of time before the entire house is afflicted. “Shit…”

“So you have to be the strong one, Eddie.”

“Oh, god,” he whines with pinched brows. “Why does it have to be me?”

“Because I saw him hold a baby today.”

“…And this is a bad thing?”

“Of course, it’s a bad thing! My hormones went crazy, okay? It’s like my brain stopped functioning, and I started thinking with my ovaries or something! All human instinct told me to lay down and procreate the second we got home!”

Eddie laughs to himself. “Are you sure it was human instinct, or was it just you on a normal Wednesday?”

“I’m being serious, Eddie,” you tell him, a sudden solemnity to your features. “You have to put your foot down whenever Steve talks about it because I will cave.”

“Alright, alright, have some Barbie cereal and settle down,” he tells you with a playful grin.

He offers you the box and you pout for a moment before sticking your hand into it and pulling out several red and purple butterfly pieces.

The boy wraps an arm around you with his free hand. He pulls you closer and noses at the crown of your head. You sigh as you relax into him. 

“I’ll take care of it, okay? I actually have the perfect idea.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” you waver through a mouthful of cereal.

“Don’t worry about it,” he lilts with a grin, smacking a kiss to your forehead. “Let me take care of it.”

┄

You and Steve are tangled in bedsheets, both slowly rousing but trying desperately to go back to sleep. 

You’re laying on your stomach, face smushed into the pillow you clutch to your head. Steve lays halfway on top of you — his legs knotted with yours, arm splayed over your back, and softly snoring in your ear. 

Both of you noticed the lack of Eddie’s presence, but chose not to linger on it too much, figuring he must’ve gone for a breakfast run. 

He returns hardly a moment after the thought of him crosses your mind. You hear the door open and shut again, then the shouts of your names entwined with a muffled barking.

You groan at the intrusion on your sleep.

Steve huffs and shifts against you, voice gruff with fatigue as he wonders: “Why do I hear a dog?”

The mixture of confusion and subtle knowing has you both shuffling out of the bedroom and trudging into the living room.

You round the corner and find Eddie standing by the door with a rowdy goldendoodle bouncing at his feet. He’s trying hopelessly to undo its leash when the thing starts to squirm at the sight of you and Steve.

Eddie’s eyes flit to the both of you when he notices you standing across the room. A smile bursts like early morning sunshine on his face. “Surprise!” he beams.

The metal of the leash clicks when he finally gets it unbuckled. The dog dashes your way, all but jumping into Steve and then spinning in circles with excitement as it tries to figure out who to accept attention from. 

“You got us a dog?” the boy wonders, head cocked back to dodge the thing as it licks at his chin.

“You said you wanted a baby,” Eddie shrugs. “So, I got you a baby.”

“This is so not what a meant,” the boy grouses in response, though he’s got his arms wrapped around the dog like he’s hugging it. “I mean, it’s not even a baby— it’s huge.”

“The woman at the shelter said he was eight months old. And he is a he, so stop calling him it.”

You crouch beside Steve, scratching the dog behind his ear. He pants with his tongue sticking out, almost looking like he’s smiling. It makes you smile too. 

“We don’t even have dog food. Or toys. Or a bed,” you stress. “What are we even gonna name it?”

“Well, I took care of exactly one of those things,” Eddie lilts with a grin. “They only had that gross artificial shit at the grocery store, but they did have some badass collars and an engraving machine, so…”

You and Steve peek through the dog’s golden curls and find a black band with silver spikes dotted around the neck. “Super metal, huh?” you hear himEdiejoke as you reach for the dangled heart pendant handing around the collar.

“…Ozzy?” you recite.

“See what I mean?” he beams. “Metal.”

[fcthots]

Hello!

I'm new to all this, I just downloaded tumblr a week ago, but I spent my entire day reading most of your posts!

I absolutely adore your personification of Jason, and was thinking, could you maybe write a little teeth rotting fluff fic about reader having a migrane and Jason just caring for them.

I'm projecting here because I've been sick for a week and I'm just thinking of big Jason Todd walking up to me, putting his hands on my neck and telling me I have a fever, then giving me tea and cuddling with me because he's like a Teddy bear and I need him 🫠

(Also, could I maybe get an emoji)

Thx so much! You're so talented with writing!!!!

I know this is like months late but i dub thee 🪅 bc i thinks its cool!! Anyway, thank you for the love 🥰

You fell asleep early the night before. You mostly ignored Jason's looks of concern and "are you sure you're ok?"s. You were fine. Just tired.

Until you woke up.

You don't immediately open your eyes. Your eyes and throat somewhat burned. Unusual. And now that you think about it, the rest of your body feels like it's freezing. Your head feels like it's tumbling stones in a washing machine and that doesn't even make sense, but you want to cry.

You try to open your eyes but the light from the window forces you to immediately close them. You're so cold, but your arms are too heavy to move. Your headache is pounding and you're freezing and you're whole body aches and a million other things. Thinking about it doesn't help and you can't help the pitiful sound that escapes you. It sounds more like a cry than anything else. You feel something move and the bed next to you and it makes you dizzy. For a moment, you can't register anything other than your discomfort.

The next thing you know, Jason is leaning over you. His hand rubs gentle circles over the small of your back.

"Shh. You're ok. You're alright."

You don't know how you forgot that Jason was here. Your head is just so fuzzy and everything hurts. Another whine escapes and you almost shed a tear at the nausea.

His other hand comes up to sweep your hair to the side. He presses his lips to your forehead on a chaste kiss. "Sugar, you're burning up." His warmth leaves you as you hear him move around the apartment. He can't have been gone for more than a minute, but you swear the noise the opening and closing of the cabinets lasts for hours.

You feel his lovely warmth back at your side soon enough. A hand slips underneath you and you think he's just going to keep rubbing your back, but the other hand goes to your waist and together they push you up and you think you might die. "Sit up for me. C'mon. There you go." His hands steal their warmth back and you'd curse them if you could, but in the next second a pill is being pressed to your lips. "Take this for me." You don't even have it in you to think of protesting. You take the pill in your mouth and then he presses a cool bottle to your lips. "We have to wash it down." You try to bring your hand up to help him but you're too weak to hold the drink up alone. "I gotcha. There you go." He takes the drink back and you mourn its absence, but that doesn't last long before his arms draw you close to his body. Your head rests against his stomach as he asks "are you cold?"

You make a sound that is supposed to be affirmative and he curses.

"Shit. I told you you were getting sick." Its aimed more at himself than you and even if you did want to object, you couldn't get the words out. "Do you think you could keep down something down?" You shake your head no against his stomach. "Ok. Can I make you something just in case?"

"Don' leave."

He sighs and runs his fingers through your hair.

[iridescentparkers]

vanilla palm trees → four - salted caramel kisses

vanilla palm trees → four - salted caramel kisses

summary ⇢ it’s been years, he should get over it, right? but, peter just can’t. he looks up, he sees her. he goes to bed, he dreams of her. he wakes up, he can smell her. he goes out one night and he sees…her. no, not gwen but his ticket to stop moping around on the anniversary of her death. what is meant to be one quick night of putting sadness on the back burner, is now a blossoming new love that feels all too perfect for peter. was this new woman in his life meant to be? or was this just another set of poorly dealt cards that would leave him walking away empty handed. all or nothing, right? ↝ college!au ↝ one night stand gone wrong trope | masterlist

parings ⇢ tasm!peter parker x female reader

warnings ⇢ alcohol use, lots of mentions of death, sexual themes

a/n ⇢ this one is long - 2.5k words, but i think its my favorite so far!!!!! also please lmk what you guys think in my inbox!

“YOU’RE GLOWING,” Harry teased as Peter shut their apartment door last weekend.

Peter Parker found himself slightly swooned by his evening guest. Days would pass, and Peter would find himself daydreaming like a schoolgirl about when he would see her again. The only problem was he forgot to get her number.

Shit. 

He would sit on his couch and open his laptop, watching as the search engine glared back at him. Think, what would be the best place to start? 

The Trenton! 

That has to be her last name. Duh! And what do you know, a Y/N Trenton does exist! Thousands of results show up. You name it, it's there. Even old news articles.

Should he message her on Facebook? No, she’s older but not 40.

Instagram. Great. On his computer, he sees that she has 10k followers and 162 posts. 

Wow. She’s stunning. He shouldn’t, but he scrolls a bit, finding some old photos. Dozens from her USC days where she had blunt bangs and florescent pink lip color. 

Scrolling down, he clicked on one of her at a college party. He scrolled through the page to see the five other pictures on the post until he eventually stopped. The photos were covered in a golden filter, with Y/N practically devouring this one dude's face. 

Maybe not devouring, but she looks pretty happy kissing his face. He was blonde, with light eyes, nothing like Peter. It stung a bit, but it was from 6 years ago. It couldn’t mean anything now. 

But what in the world was he going to say to her? Peter was so lost, he never had to slide into a girl's DM’s. Eww, it was so odd to think about that. 

“Hey,” he typed out before deleting it, maybe three times with varying amounts of y’s and e’s. 

Then there was “Hi,” or “Hiiiiiii,” or “Sup girl.” No, please do not think like Harry. 

“Hi, Y/N. Remember me? Would you like to meet up for lunch this Thursday?”

“That seemed relatively normal. Right?” He murmured under his breath but, he scratched his head as the pondering developed into pure confusion.

“And, send,” Harry announced after hovering over the couch and Peter’s shoulder to send the DM. 

“Harry!” Peter shouted. “Why the hell would you send that?”

Harry grabbed the laptop after hopping over the couch and Peter snarled as he sat by him. 

“I’m just doing you a favor?”

“Really? First, you tell me to put myself out there, which I do. Next, you butt into my personal life, sending messages that I have no idea were a good idea or not! I mean, why can’t you just leave me alone? What if she doesn’t want to see me again!”

“I don’t think that’s true.” Harry smiled, watching the screen from his lap.

“How the hell would you know?”

“Just see for yourself,” he announced as he turned the laptop around. There sat a reply, 2 seconds ago from Y/N.

“I’d love to.” It read, and Peter smiled to himself for his sweet date this week.  

“You’re welcome.”

“HOW’S SCHOOL?” Y/N asked, walking down the New York City street.

“Hard,” Peter informed, walking alongside her. “Finals are coming up before the break, so I’m studying as much as I can before the weekend is over.”

She nodded, turning her body sideways as she slid between moving bodies. 

“Wow, this is so cool!” She smiled, running up to the nearby paper stands. “The new Spiderman comics. My brother loves them, but I have never seen them in person.”

Peter giggles at her fascination with the book, watching as she flips through the colorful pages. “I never read them, but I always see them on the corner.” 

Peter raised his brows as he gazed at the array of colorful printed books, “Wow, there are hundreds of them.”

“I know, but he always gets them as soon as they come out, or they sell out quickly.” She informed as she closed the book. “I’m talking like he’s a 10-year-old kid. He's a little older than you.” 

He laughed, pulled out his wallet, and gave the cashier some change. Her mouth gaped as he executed the gesture, Peter then putting a small hand in front of her. "I insist. What do you think about Spiderman?”

Y/N looked between Peter and the book, her brows furrowing as she looked at Peter, “I think the work he does is cool. I don’t know much about him, but people love him.” 

"Mostly."

"Yeah, but I feel like those who dislike him are just mad at the fact that they don't have super cool web lasers that shoot from their arms," she laughed, making arm gestures to imitate the hero with her hands, and Peter then laughed. "He's making an impact on the city."  

Y/N gestured towards the printed comic in hand, looking at Peter’s expression, “Like at The Trenton, a local artist is doing a sculpture of multiple 3D spiderwebs layered with these comics and Spiderman newspapers.”

“I’d love to see it.” 

“You can. The only thing is, it won't be ready for another 3 weeks. I can take you to the opening,” she informed. “I will say, I think a lot about who he is. Is he a rogue cop? Some sort of scrawny underdog?” 

She spoke as she began putting the book in her bag as Peter paid the cashier. “Whoever he is, I think he’s a hero.” 

He felt a bit flattered at her sentiment, smiling as he listened to her interest in him as what she called “a hero.” Those words left the mouths of few but when they did, Peter filled with gratitude.

The phone in his pocket began to buzz, and Peter lifted it into his palm, “Damn it.” 

"What time is it?"

"A little past one." 

“What’s wrong?”

“I need to make this cake for a friend, and my Aunt says she can’t come over to help me later.” He informed. 

“I could help.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, placing his phone back in his pocket as he hesitated, “Sure.” 

THEY FOUND THEIR WAY BACK TO PETER’S APARTMENT, Y/N giggling as she placed her bag down. “And you thought that was okay?”

Peter rubbed his nose, curling his lips as breathy chuckles fearfully left his lips, “I was 14 and thought the frosted tips were a ‘look.’” 

“It was definitely... a look.” She said, widening her eyes, moving them across the apartment  “Last time we were here, we uh…”

“Yeah,” he laughed, his eyes squinting as they met hers and laughed in a delightful unison. “I could use a drink. Beer?”

“You have nothing else in this house to drink?” She laughed, “College boys, I swear.”

“What can I say?” He shrugged, walking over and opening the door to his fridge.

“I’ll take one.”

“And I’ll get this recipe open. Feel free to look around.” 

Y/N moved around the apartment, looking at shelves and trinkets of stored memories between Peter and his roommate. Some shared, and others individualized. She moved to one of their bookshelves, grazing her fingers along the spines of varying albums and books on their shelf. She stopped at the one bright pink book, resting in the corner and drowning in the bland sea of book covers. 

The hot pink album was coated with foam stickers and glitter, some getting on the shelf and Y/N’s hands as she opened the book. 

Flipping to the first page, there sat a picture of Peter receiving a kiss from a girl with platinum blond bangs and pale skin, her fingers painted a baby pink nail color. 

“Who’s this?” 

Peter swallowed, as he placed two beers on the counter. “Gwen.”

“Why do you have this album with her in it?” 

Her tone wasn’t mad, more curious for his answer, “She made it for me when we were together.”

“And you still have it?”

“She passed,” he informed, raising his brows as his hands slid into his front pockets. “Around 6 years ago.”

“Oh.”

“Oh.” He repeated, looking at the book in her hands. 

“I overstepped.” She stated, closing the book and placing it back on the shelf. 

He shrugged as his lips began to curl further inward on his mouth, “I said you could look around.”

It remained silent as Peter settled more ingredients on his center kitchen aisle, Y/N creeping closer in delicate footsteps, careful in their newfound silence. She sat on the barstool in his kitchen, folding her hands carefully into a neat knot in front of her.

Peter reaches for and guzzles his open beer. He locks his eyes on the ingredients, his long lashes fluttering as the cold liquid slides down his throat. Peter places the empty bottle on his counter, speaking softly as the beer bubbles build in his chest. “Why don’t we make a cake?”

“Okay,” she nods, revealing her smile as she moves to Peter’s side. “What kind?”

“It’s weird, I know, but salted caramel.” He stated, and she jutted her neck backward. “Exactly.”

“Where should I start?”

Peter swiftly travels to the speaker on his bookshelf, blasting rock music and nodding as the beats echo inside his apartment. Y/N’s head finds the beat as the song rushes beats over her stance. 

They whisk themselves around the kitchen, taking turns putting ingredients in the wet and dry bowls as the rhythm picks up under them. Peter reaches for three more drinks, the bottles clinking as they pile up in his trash can, and he wipes his lips free of the smeared alcohol. 

“I didn’t take you for a dancer?" She chuckled as he shook his head on her face, his brown locks tickling her features. 

“Me neither,” he yelled, lifting his head as his words fought with the blasting music. 

With each bottle, his moves got sloppier, and Y/N laughed each time a new move developed in his repertoire. Smiling, his eyes crinkled as he jounced his chest to the down beats of the song. Y/N laughs at his lack of rhythm, and Peter pulls her by her arm to his chest. He whisked Y/N to the kitchen island, swirling her in the air, and settling her down next to the now-panned cake batter. 

He leaned in close, kissing her lips, the wheaty beer taste sizzling on her lips. The kiss was sloppy but sensual as his tongue dipped into her mouth. He pulled her in deeper as his hand slung down to her lower waist, Y/N then pulled away as the oven beeped behind them. 

“The oven,” Y/N whispered as she pulled away. “You should put the cake in.” 

“Right, the cake.”

“WATER?” Peter asked, throwing his body next to Y/N on the couch.

She gave him a knowing look, playfully shoving him as he sat, “You first.”

“Pfft,” he waved, sinking his body on the furniture. “I’m fine.”

His words slurred as his drunken eyes wandered to Y/N’s figure. ”Peter, are sure?” 

He huffed, pointing a finger to his bookcase, “That girl, Gwen. The one you saw earlier in the scrapbook…”

“Her favorite was salted caramel...everything. Salted caramel coffee, salted caramel chocolate, salted caramel ice cream, and especially salted caramel cake. She had it for her birthday every year.” 

“And when is her birthday?”

“Tomorrow.” 

Her lips formed a thin line as she scratched the open part of her chest. She immediately nodded as she pushed her legs from her chest, Peter moving his eyes down her body.  “I don’t want your pity.” 

She raised her brows as she chuckled, the air seeping through her teeth, “I wasn’t going to give you any. Why would you think that?”

“Everyone does.” He wavered. “They all want to tell me where I need to be, when to go out, when to...date. When to talk about her, when not to talk about her.” 

“I mean this, truly, in the nicest way.” She began, placing a hand on his leg. “You said it's been 6 years? Why do you still care about what others think?”

“Because I don’t have much family left,” he informed, slurring his words as he flailed his loose arms in the air. “I need to make them happy.”

“You don’t need to, you want to.” She corrected. “And if they truly loved you, as long as you are happy, they wouldn’t care. At all.” 

“You’re right.” he trailed, “But, I’m not happy. You’re the first date I’ve had in 6 years.”

“You were in high school!” Y/N exclaimed, hitting the back of her hand gently on his shoulder. 

He shrugged,  “I still could have put myself out there in college.”

“Not everyone finds the love of their life in high school and college. Believe me.”

“What does that mean?”

Y/N pursed her lips as she looked towards her feet, “Nothing.”

Peter put a hand on her knee, leaning closer to her figure, “Tell me.”

“I was engaged to a man I met in college,” she began, glancing vaguely at the left hand in her lap. “About three months ago, he died in a car crash.”

Was it the guy from her pictures?

Peter’s expression softened as he reached for her hand, pulling it to his. “M’Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” she began, her voice softening as she avoided eye contact “I found out, the day I met you, he was having an affair with his secretary. And now, she’s asking for some of his things because she claims, 'he loved her too.'” 

 “Y/N”

“Like you said, I don’t want your pity. I’m okay.” 

“I’m too drunk to give pity,” he slurred, drooping his head to her knees, inhaling as he leaned on her body, forcing her to drop her knees, and his head fell in her lap. She ran a gentle hand along his head, rubbing it slowly along his head.

He lazed in the physical contact, before grabbing her hand from his head. He pulled it to his chest, moving it to the cadence of his soft speech, “Vanilla.” 

“What?” she questioned. 

“You smell like her. Gwen,” he began, raising her hand to his nose and inhaling her scent, “Gwen used to wear some perfume. I forgot the name. I think it was like Vanilla Palm Tree or some sugary scent. I only remember she always smelt like Vanilla mixed with…beach.”

She chuckled awkwardly, letting go of his grasp, “Vanilla mixed with beach? Peter, you are drunk.”

“No no,” he assured as his eyes fluttered shut. “It’s… It’s Vanilla Palm Tree.”

“I should leave.”

“It’s why I stayed and brought you home from the bar…”

Y/N felt as the smoke smell rushed through her airways, “You don’t smell that?”

“Smell…smell what..” he muttered as his limbs went limp.

“Peter!” 

Grey lines of smoke trailed the ceiling of his apartment, and Y/N shot up to Peter’s kitchen, “Lightweight...”

[blue--ingenue]

"Evasive Maneuvers" - Part 4

Read the next part

Summary: You've been in love with Sebastian since the moment you knocked him on his arse on your first day. Entering your sixth year, you finally begin working up the courage to confess your feelings when he suddenly becomes the best Beater Hogwarts has seen in decades - and subsequently becomes the school's most eligible bachelor.

Author's Notes: sorry for the little cliffhanger/teaser a few days ago hehe. i've been really excited to post this chapter and wanted to give you a sneak peek. anyway, seb is a mess, but i promise he gets better at expressing his feelings :) (i forgot to mention in previous parts, but all characters in this fic are aged 18+)

Sebastian cursed as his shoe caught on a loose floor tile, nearly stumbling down the short flight of steps leading to the Potions classroom. He’d woken up on the wrong side of the bed and everything else had gone downhill from there. He’d arrived at morning quidditch practice to an onslaught of rain. Despite the wind and near-torrential downpour, Imelda had insisted they run drills until their allotted hour on the pitch was up. It was their final practice before their match against Gryffindor. Not only was it one of the most anticipated matches of the season, but Madam Kogawa had also chosen this particular match to evaluate the two houses’ players for a chance to represent the school at the Championships. Sebastian barely had time to cast a half-arsed drying charm over his robes before realizing Potions had started ten minutes ago. Now he was barreling through the halls, irritated and hoping that his tardiness wouldn’t affect his partner’s grade as well as his own.

Remembering that his best friend stood just beyond the door in front of him, he paused to run a hand through his unruly curls and adjust his tie. He hadn’t abandoned all decorum in his tardiness, thank you very much. For some reason she was the only one he cared to check his appearance for. The whole world could think him a rumpled, muddy mess, but as long as he maintained his dashing charm in front of her, he was content. This was, of course, all due to the fact that she was his best chum. That was the only reason he could think of. She was a fixture in his life, occupying more space in his heart and his head than he had the words to describe. So it naturally followed that her opinion would matter above the rest. It had been like this for as long as he could remember. Just last week he’d spent the galleons he’d been saving for some new quidditch gloves on a lovely necklace for her. He told her he’d come across it just as he was leaving Honeydukes. In truth, he’d spotted it at Gladrags a week before the start of term and knew it would look perfect on her. He’d only visited the sweetshop after he had acquired the necklace. He decided to downplay his enthusiasm for her gift, just in case she got the wrong idea. 

Sebastian was no fool to the nuances of courtship. Ominis had approached him over the summer to ask him for his blessing about courting Anne. Solomon, who had always had a soft spot for the Gaunt boy, and encouraged his endeavor with uncharacteristic enthusiasm. Both boys knew that Anne was her own woman and that asking for his blessing was a mere formality, but Ominis insisted on speaking to both of her remaining family members just in case. He knew what it was like to lose family and he didn’t want to risk causing a rift between any of the Sallows. 

Sebastian’s feelings toward his Gryffindor weren’t similar in the least. He’d seen witches and wizards fawning over one another as they walked arm-in-arm at Hogsmeade. He knew how ridiculous his classmates would act when the object of their affections glanced their way. Sebastian Sallow had never acted that way with her a day in his life. Sure, her presence left him invariably flustered, but that was simply because they were the closest of friends. He didn’t know how to put a name to the feelings she roused within him, but calling it something as trivial as “infatuation” seemed nothing less than insulting. No, she was far too extraordinary for that.

He was looking forward to putting this mess of a morning behind him. Spending time with her never failed to lift his spirits - which is why it hurt twice as hard when he stepped into the classroom and saw a familiar ginger nuisance standing in his spot. He was rooted to the spot, incredulous and fuming. He’d never taken issue with Weasley in any year previous, but since the start of term he seemed to be in the one place that was rightfully Sebastian’s - by his Gryffindor’s side. 

“Ah, Mr. Sallow. Good of you to finally join us,” Professor Sharp drawled from the front of the classroom. “If you’d like to avoid losing Slytherin any house points for today I’d recommend finding a seat. There seems to be an open stool next to Mr. Clopton.”

Begrudgingly Sebastian stalked over to Everett’s workbench and dropped his books onto the table with far more force than necessary. From across the room his Gryffindor shot him a sympathetic smile. It was like the first rays of sun had disintegrated the clouds from this morning’s offending storm. Looking around, she hastily scribbled a note onto a spare bit of parchment before waving her wand over it. With a soft pop the note appeared next to him. He smiled and snatched it from the table, unfurling it with speed. 

Sorry, Garreth volunteered to take your place when Sharp noticed you hadn’t yet arrived. Catch you after class?

He let the note fall to the table and plastered on a nonchalant smile. She seemed relieved, and for some reason that only seemed to irritate him further. Did being his partner mean so little to her that she was already content to continue on? To add insult to injury he was now forced to spend the next hour with Clopton. He was an alright bloke, but his obsession with quidditch meant that he was one of Sebastian’s biggest fans. He felt flattered, truly, but Everett’s presence began grating on his nerves once he started butting into the rare free time he spent with his Gryffindor. Seeking out a distraction from the hornet’s nest of feelings trapped within his head he turned to Everett to ask how far along they were in the potion recipe.

The Ravenclaw stood stock-still, as though he couldn’t believe Sebastian was actually talking to him after nearly a month of dismissed conversations. 

“Everett?” he prompted, exhaustion leeching the annoyance from his tone. He seemed to come to his senses at last and fumbled for the open potion book propped up against their cauldron. 

“Just here,” he replied, pointing to the second step. “I’ve already gathered the necessary ingredients, so we can just carry on with the chopping.” Sebastian thought he sounded far too enthusiastic for their first class of the day, but obliged. He’d just finished crushing the last bit of moonstone when Everett piped up. Unsurprisingly, and much to his dismay, he began prodding Sebastian about his broom skills. Sebastian gave a few obliging nods as he tuned out the boy’s rambling, intent on finishing their brew as quickly as he could. 

“The maneuvers you pull during practice are incredible! And on a school-issued broom, no less!” He carried on. Haughtily he added, “Of course, my broom is one of the fastest on the market. Begged my parents for one of those models for a year. A newer model was close to being released by the time they finally caved.”

Sebastian gave a noncommittal hum and focussed on listening in on the couple occupying his usual station. His hand stilled over the cutting board. Couple? He wondered. When had that word popped into his head? She and Weasley were hardly a couple. She was his best friend, and he was sure that he’d be the first one to know if she were even remotely interested in courting someone. To prove it, he looked up from his slicing to affirm their mutual distaste.

Only it didn’t look like distaste at all. She stood as she always did, elbows on the stained wood as she ran down the ingredient list with the tip of her wand. Weasley towered over her, reading over her shoulder with one arm supporting his weight atop the table. His attention caught on the boy’s face. He was smiling. It was soft and fond and trained entirely on her. Sebastian seethed. He didn’t know why this small act of affection lit a fire in his veins, but it just felt innately wrong, like stretching a muscle just a tad further than it was meant to bend. She was none the wiser as his larger hand brushed against hers in his attempt to turn the page. She turned her head then, realizing for the first time how close they were and blushed. This was ludicrous. Any closer and he’d practically have her pressed against the table. And what if he leaned down? What if he held her impossibly closer and pressed his lips against hers? Would she kiss him back? Sebastian wondered if she’d tug on his tie, pull him down and tangle a fist in his curls. 

This was ridiculous. Unbelievable. The whole bloody world was spinning off its axis and Sebastian was the only one who seemed to notice. If anyone should be kissing her, it should be him. He was supposed to be the only one to- 

Oh. 

Oh, dear. 

The world was no longer spinning off its axis. In fact, it wasn’t spinning at all. Everything and everyone was frozen and Sebastian was left to feel all these feelings in painful crystal clarity. He’d read about romance in the muggle novellas Anne had teased him for buying, but on paper everything was straightforward. The hero knew he loved the girl, and the girl loved him right back. In all the books he’d read the couples were inseparable. There was never a question of whether they loved each other, not one true doubt to be found. From Prologue to Epilogue he felt safe knowing that the couple would ultimately get their ‘happily ever after.’ Things were different once the books were back on their shelves. Happy endings were rare, if they even existed at all. His parents were kindred spirits, their love for one another so powerful that it flowed into every nook and cranny of their home. His mother used to tuck them in and say that she loved their father so much, the world decided they needed two children to carry it all. Those happy honeyed years were tucked safely away in his mind, where the memories of his parents’ demise and the rest of reality couldn’t touch them. 

Love was soft and sweet, and the world was a sharp and insatiable thing. The years following their move to Feldcroft were a special type of purgatory. The memories of his beloved childhood swirled cruelly in his mind’s eye each night, just vivid enough to remember yet just out of reach. A shard of fear pierced his chest. He couldn’t bear to lose her like that. He didn’t think he could stand getting so close to another person only to have them inevitably ripped away. Sebastian Sallow yearned for fairy tale endings, but he didn’t know if he believed in them anymore. 

A high-pitched hissing tore his focus away from his epiphany and the world spun on as if he hadn’t just realized something beautiful and horrible and terrifying. It intensified and he realized the noise was coming from Weasley’s cauldron. He could only watch on as it erupted, sending metal shards and acidic splatters every which way. Garreth tackled his Gryffindor to the floor, shielding her with his own body while the failed potion smoked and ate through his robes. She frantically tore the tattered robe from his body before it could make contact with the rest of him and the two froze. Although he couldn’t hear them over the chaos the rest of the room had erupted into, he knew she was asking if he was alright. He nodded and Sebastian saw red as he brushed her hair back to look at a nasty cut on her forehead. Garreth’s discarded robe smoked behind him, his shirt torn in a few places, and gently held her face in his hands as he checked for more cuts. He only barely registered Sharp dismissing the class for the day before he was grabbing his things and slipping out of the classroom.

.

.

.

.

.

Taglist: @snickette, @findingtruenorth23, @plooloo, @paganicher, @smilesworldsposts, @snoozebun, @crazyllamasurfer, @pixie-dustss, @margottheviking, @lollife1617, @tired-meg, @somethingiswrongwithme

[shatterinseconds]

Hoverbike

Inspired by @froopa-coopa’s art from a few months ago

After three years stuck in space, and another two roaming the galaxy leading the Blade of Marmora on relief missions, Keith’s hoverbike fell into major disrepair. The hot desert air and sand gunked the machine enough for it to spit black fumes when Keith tried to kickstart it again. That had been a week ago, where after visiting Lance’s family in Cuba for a month they decided to head to Keith’s shack for some needed alone time, but the new parts finally arrived, and Lance was unfortunately jostled awake way too early in the morning to “help.”

He sits cross legged on top of the hoverbike while Keith works underneath. They trade short conversations back and forth, mostly Lance guiding them. But a large part is spent in silence, knowing that the other is there in close range being enough for them. Lance doesn’t mind. He gets to enjoy the warm sun on face and think of his family and realize how glad he is to be back on Earth for an indefinite stay this time. 

Keith slides out with grease smeared on his cheek and hair bunched up from welding goggles. It’s a super cute look. Too bad Lance’s phone is charging inside. Keith stretches up his hand above, waving it around a bit, wordlessly.

“What do you want, Mullet?” Lance leans forward, bracing his hands on the leather seat so he doesn’t fall off accidentally.

“Over there. Tool box,” Keith finally uses his words, a bit exasperated, which causes Lance to roll his eyes. It’s not Lance’s fault they never met an alien race that could grant them mind reading powers—which would have been so cool.

Instead, he mumbles, “I don’t speak mechanic.” But he still digs around in the tool box, having a vague idea after watching Hunk for years and Keith more recently. A note of triumph echoes in the back of his throat as he finds the potential tool. “This?” he asks as he leans over the bike, Spiderman style, staring at Keith upside down. He holds out what he thinks is a screwdriver but with an odd shaped head. 

“Yeah.” Keith grabs the screwdriver without so much as an ounce of gratitude but Lance doesn’t care. He huffs a laugh until Keith pops back out, remembering himself. “Thanks.”

Lance grins and taps his lips. “You forgot something else.”

“I smell like motor oil. You don’t want a kiss.”

“I always want a kiss, Mullet,” Lance says with ease. His smile grows, almost starting to stretch wide enough to hurt. “If I can soldier through your bad morning breath, I can handle this.”

Keith grumbles something unintelligible but sits up enough that he and Lance are mere inches away now. “You have the bad morning breath,” he mumbles as he pulls Lance towards him. A grimy hand gently cups his face. The smell of sweat, hard work, and engine grease scratch the inside of Lance’s nose. And yet, it’s in his top five of Keith kisses—right up there with their first kiss, their post-sex kisses, and that time Keith caught him by surprise during a Coalition banquet because jealousy had started to get the better of him.

Lance digs his hands into Keith’s tangled hair, pushing back the goggles, and deepens the kiss. Keith’s free hand slides to Lance’s waist, stabilizing him so they don’t both crash to the ground. Every place Keith touches buzzes from the warm contact. Those fingerless gloves brush over a smooth patch of skin, exposed by his shirt falling forward and catching under his armpits. Keith pulls on his lower lip before separating, biting down in a way that causes Lance to mutter a curse and for Keith to break out into a pleased grin.

“See,” Lance says as he knocks his forehead against Keith’s. His chest heaves from the lack of air. Keith always makes him breathless, quite literally most of the time. “You almost missed out on that.”

Shaking his head, Keith laughs. “I’m glad I didn’t.” He pecks Lance’s lips one more time before he disappears under the bike again and Lance returns to lying on top, very content.

[theleastprofessionalchef]

Ah jeez, I started making this post end of May and saved it as a draft so I could come back with the recipe, and fully forgot to do that for uh. Yeah. A long time. I've since made a few more batches of successful mead, and have a couple more fermenting right now! I'll reblog with pics of them later.

Well! better late than never. Leaving what I'd written initially unchanged, so-

-

Two months apart - start and end - my first successful batch of mead! I've tried a handful of times over the years, but had an unfortunate habit of doing... SOMETHING wrong each time that resulted in lightly sweetened cleaning alcohol 😅

But finally, a success! Real mead! Sweet, but not too sweet, and boozy enough without being straight up moonshine

Recipe:

Roughly three pounds of honey

3? 4? Of those little mandarin oranges, quartered

1 packet ale yeast, I used this

Various whole mulling spices, I used a stick of cinnamon and a few cloves this time, but I've also tossed in cardamom pods and anise occasionally, maybe a couple peppercorns. Go wild

So much filtered/distilled water. So much. Like two gallons?

I'll be real folks, I used a cheap shitty online guide that I don't remember the link for, that said it was a good basic way to learn how to make garbage mead and that any brewer worth their salt would cringe at. It is also coincidentally the same guide I used years ago in the aforementioned cleaning alcohol incident; I haven't changed what I used or did, so I honestly don't know why that came out bad and this good. Shrugs! Yeast can't read.

Dissolve the honey in warm/hot water. Not boiling- you don't want to kill the yeast when you add it in. Think a nice, warm shower. Stir it well, add the oranges and spices, and mix in the yeast until also dissolved.

Load it all up into a large glass container like the one pictured. I ordered a carboy online for this, which is the 'proper' thing to use, but you can honestly get away with an old milk jug you've thoroughly cleaned and sanitized, if you again, don't care about it being the highest quality. Carboys come with the fermentation/filtration Thing on it to let gases out and nothing in (the little doohicky plugged into the top of the lid) but you can also get away with stretching the mouth of a balloon over where the lid would go and poke a teensy hole in it with a needle. The goal is to let the gases that build up during fermentation escape the container, but not to let outside air in.

Fill the container the rest of the way up with water, but leave a couple inches of space on top. This thang's gonna bubble like crazy once the yeast start feeding, and you don't want it to overflow and make a mess of your cupboard.

Put it in a dark, cool space, and wait a few days!

It'll bubble a lot those first days; DON'T mess with it. Leave her be. Let her have her hot girl summer. After a few days, maybe a week, it'll calm down a bit; now you can top off the water supply.

Fast forward uhhhh two months or so, and it's done! There's a more legit way to know for sure when it's done that involves watching the tiny bubbles that form near the top as part of the fermentation process, and figuring out when they'll stop, but I'm impatient and don't know jack and am here for a good time not a long time.

Enjoy mead! And maybe do some better research than I did if you want something fancy.

OH AND FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, DO NOT STIR IT WHEN YOU GO TO DRINK THE FINISHED STUFF

You'll want to scoop the fruits and spices off the top and then siphon it off into another container, or do what we did and simply ladle it off the top (because on a ship of 10-13 sailors, 1 1/2-2 gallons of mead won't last longer than an off day), and NOT drink the detritus off the bottom. You can kinda see it in the picture above. It is not like unfiltered apple cider. That stuff tastes gnarly.

Do not shake the mead before drinking.

[louroth]

Hello everyone :> 

It's been a month! it's incredible how much my life has changed- while I'm still adjusting I'm just...still walking on clouds. it feels unreal. the patreon took off and I can almost make a living wage on it which is frankly fucking insane, and the discord is so vibrant it scared me for a moment (not anymore- shooting the shit with the people there is the favorite part of my day, even if I sometimes just leave a trail of emotes lskjdhajksdhkjasd.) I couldn't have asked for a better community. YES I am crying about it. Thank you, so, so much. I am cradling your face in my hands. crying.

But as always, enough of my bleeding heart. Let's get to it!

The first two weeks after posting the update, I took a sort of quasi vacation and only wrote a handful of story-words each day, and spent some time fooling around in the discord + brushed off my smut archive to refine for Patreon. There are already 4 stories up, and a new one coming tomorrow- though I haven't decided yet whether it will be possessive/jealous L sfw short or one very nasty short where you come across a particularly insistent species of vines while trekking the forest. hehe. we'll see. >:3

But, even though I had to rest not to combust after work, I am very pleased to say that the next chapter is coming along great, with the skeleton finished for its entirety, and about 45% and some change already written (it's very hard to gauge because I jump around a lot when I write.) This is the final chapter before the forest, filled with action and the heart wrenching drama of offering tenderness to a certain someone, and deciding for your hunter when enough is truly enough. I have teared up writing certain scenes and I genuinely cannot wait for you to experience this next part yourselves. 

It is so funny reading things I wrote for this chapter six months ago, or longer, because I knew exactly what emotions I wanted to bake in and couldn't really nail it, but now it is coming together beautifully! Sure, it will still be wonky first draft writing, but the core is there and that is all that matters for now. I'm saying soon™ for the update for now, because I am allowing myself to adapt to writing full time- I didn't quit my job to become my own nightmare boss, and I truly want to enjoy this process. I think, in the long run, it will result in a better story. Patience is my mantra. All in due time- I cannot force quality creative work. But by everything wretched and sinful, I cannot wait to share this next part with you!!! I'm frothing at the mouth!!!

In other news, y'all. I need to get organized. I get heartburn thinking about all the different variations of files and notes and notebooks and scraps of paper and variables and branches of plot and just generally, the things to keep track of is getting to the point of a dragon hoard of scary 'oh no I forgot about that part'. I'm gritting my teeth through it until this chapter is out, but after it, I am going to spend some time to

 1) get my shit together in gorgeous, beautiful spreadsheets

2) get serious about finding beta- and proofreaders. (me @ u: 🥺)

But that's it, my friends! I scrapped an entire progress report because I started sounded corporate and listing points which was just... sad. I really hope I evolve into writing these in a more fun way, which would make them more fun for you to read too! But for now, I think this will do. I hope you have a beautiful day/night, and if you would like to see more in depth dev-logs of my writing life, or random sneak peeks, I post those weekly on patreon!

Or join our discord, which. It's just the nicest place, I can't even come up with words that do it justice. It's my favorite daily newspaper.

Until next time! x

[joeshiestyslover]

i hate u

pairing: lsu!fratboy!joe burrow x volleyballplayer!reader

summary: you and joe were together before he transferred to lsu, when he broke your heart, but what happens when you end up transferring to the same college?

warnings: language, angst, joe’s an asshole

a/n: i got some inspo from a request and tied in a sza song bc i love her. also there will be a part 2

lowercase intended

masterlist

today’s the day your entire life changes, but little do you know, in more ways than one. a couple months ago just before your junior year ended, you were offered an athletic scholarship to play volleyball for lsu instead of ohio state. you immediately accepted because as much as you love your home state, you were tired of sitting on the bench waiting to finally play on the court. lsu offered you a starting position, so you would’ve been crazy to not say yes. 

you’re ready to leave ohio behind and forget the bad memories, well one bad memory in particular. you began dating your childhood best friend in college, after waiting for him to love you back your entire childhood. ever since you met, you both were inseparable, doing absolutely everything together, including college when you both were accepted to ohio state. the moment you started dating, you were the happiest you had been in a long time, and that happiness you thought would last forever, it only lasted three years. 

he decided to transfer from ohio state to lsu to play football because he was never given the chance to be starting quarterback, and lsu just happened to give him that chance. you were worried at first because he was going to be the furthest away that he had ever been, but he was quick to reassure you everything was going to be fine and that he was never going to forget about you or neglect you. 

oh, how you wish you never believed his bullshit lies.

after a couple weeks of him being in louisiana, he started to call less, basically ignoring your entire existence. you had planned to talk to him about it one night over facetime, but that morning you received a text from him that simply read, i think we need to take a break. you texted and called himnumerous times, trying to get him to explain, but he never responded or picked up your calls. after hundreds of unread texts and voicemails, you gave up. you still tried to keep up with him, looking at his social media accounts, until one day, when you checked a post he was tagged in, you saw him at a party making out with a girl that was perched on his lap. your heart broke, and you decided to block him on everything so you could move on; something that he had clearly already done. 

you are currently carrying the last of your boxes into your dorm room, chatting with your new roommate, eve. “so, why’d you transfer here again?” she asks you. “volleyball. i was tired of sitting on the bench all season.” you respond. “all season? damn.” “yeah i know. it fucking sucked, but that’s why i’m here now.” you tell eve. you finally finish carrying your boxes, and you decide to unpack tomorrow. you lie down onto your bed with a huff, “i forgot how much i hate moving.” you joke. suddenly, you hear a knock at your door, and eve jumps up to answer it. as she opens the door, she exclaims, “joe!”

no. it can’t be.

“oh my god, you have to meet my new roommate. y/n! come over here and meet joe!” you stand up, and slowly start to make your way towards the door. you look at the man in front of you, and make eye contact with him. “y/n!” joe exclaims. “it’s good to see you!” you only offer a small smile in return. “wait, do you two know each other?” eve questions, looking between you and joe. “umm just in passing.” you say, and joe gives you a confused look. “okay? me and joe are going to a party, so i probably won’t be back until after you fall asleep; so i’ll see you later, alright?” eve says. “yeah okay.” you reply as she walks out with joe. as you shut the door, you lean your back against it. “oh my fucking god this can’t be happening to me.” you say quietly to yourself. 

the next few days go by relatively smooth, with you finding your way around, getting your jersey along with your practice schedule, and adjusting to your new classes. you even were able to make a friend in your econ class, ja’marr. ja’marr told you that he’s a wide receiver for the football team, so you knew that he knows joe as well. about a week later, your roommate asks you the question you’ve been dreading. “how do you really know joe because the way he looked at you made it seem there’s more to the two of you than you let on.” you didn’t know how to answer her. you want to tell the truth, but do you want to trust someone you barely know with one of your worst memories? 

“if i tell you this, you cannot tell anyone, okay?” you tell her seriously. she nods, waiting for you to continue. “so, joe and i sorta dated back when we both went to ohio state.” “oh my god really?” she asks, shocked. “wait, there’s more. not only did we date, we were best friends since like childhood. he was literally my next-door neighbor.” eve’s jaw drops. “what happened between you two?” she inquires. “he broke up with me a couple weeks after he transferred here, over text.” “no! over text?! what a douche!” she exclaims. “i know, but after a while, i got over it, and now i’m here.” you say to her. “holy shit. that’s so fucked up, and i promise i won’t tell anyone.” “thank you eve.” you tell her. “but i am going to give you my honest opinion. i think you should talk to joe.” “no.” you have no interest in talking to that sleazeball. “why not? you two can finally clear the air and move on! don’t you want that?” eve tries to reason. “if he wanted to clear the air, he would have done that when he first broke up with me instead of being a coward and not responding to my texts or calls.” you state. 

almost on cue, you hear a knock at the door, maybe it’s one of eve’s friends. you really hope so. “oh hi joe. can you give me and y/n a sec? thanks.” she shuts the door, and you stand up from your bed. “do not tell me you brought him here eve!” you raise your voice slightly. “listen i had no idea about your history with him, so i invited him over here yesterday to watch a movie. i’m so sorry!” eve apologizes. “it’s fine. i’ll just go. text me when he leaves.” “come on, y/n! i think he actually wants to see you!” she says. “well, tough because i don’t want to see him.” you begin to walk towards the door. “please! just stay for a little while! if it gets too much for you, i’ll ask him to leave. please stay.” eve begs. “fine, but you owe me big time.”

eve opens the door, and there stands the boy you fell in love with almost twenty years ago. you briefly make eye contact before looking back at your roommate. “okay joe, come on in. i’ll put on the movie.” you try your best not to look at his face as you both sit down on the beanbags on your floor. the awkward silence deafening until joe speaks up, “so y/n, how have you been?” “umm since you broke my heart, then ran off like a coward? oh i’m just peachy keen!” you say back to him sarcastically, not bothering to make eye contact with him. your remark seems to shut him up until eve comes back over to the both of you after starting the movie.

all throughout the movie, you notice joe stealing glances at you every so often, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t doing the same. once the movie’s over, you’re waiting for eve to kick his sorry ass out of your dorm. for some reason, he isn’t leaving, and you try to get eve’s attention, but she’s too caught up in some conversation with joe. finally, eve walks over to you, and joe is still not leaving. “so umm, i know i said i would tell him to leave, but he wants to talk to you.” she says sheepishly. you sigh, knowing how stubborn joe can be. “five minutes. that’s it.” you tell her. she nods and walks back over to joe, and he looks back at you with a look in his eyes that you can’t quite pinpoint. “i’ll be back guys. y/n, please try not to murder him.” eve calls out to the both of you. 

“so what do you want to talk about?” you ask, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “i just wanted to tell you that i’m so sorry for what i did to you. i was an asshole and you didn’t deserve it. i just want you to know i never fell out of love with you. hell, i still love you, but-” “joe, stop.” you cut him off. “you don’t get to say you’re sorry because you sure as hell weren’t sorry when you broke my heart a year ago.” you say, coldly. “i know that i can never change what i did to you, but i just want you to know that i really am sorry, even if you don’t believe me.” you can’t believe what you’re hearing. “i thought you loved me joe.” you say, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes. “i did love you! i still do!” he starts to raise his voice. “bullshit joe! you’re so fucking selfish! i don’t know why you give a shit all of a sudden! is it because you feel guilty? or do you just feel sorry for me?” you yell. “y/n-” “i don’t care anymore joe! you know why? it’s because you are not the person i fell in love with years ago!” you seethe. “i know, y/n. i know. it wasn’t fair for me to do that to you.” he tells you, looking at his shoes. “you can’t even look at me joe! i mean, did you ever realize you were hurting me? or did you just not care?” “y/n please-” “shut up joe! i hate you! it was so shitty of you to make me feel like that! god, what i would do to make you feel the way i did when you ripped out my heart and stomped on it!” your tears are falling down your face, stalling at your chin, and you don’t even bother to wipe them off. “y/n, just let me explain.” he begs you. “no! you had your chance to explain while you were off fucking random girls last year! you know what joe? fuck you!” a silence takes over the room, and you decide that you’re done with this conversation and joe. “get out.” you say calmly, looking him straight in the eye. “what?” joe’s voice wavers slightly. “you heard me. i said five minutes and it’s been five minutes. it’s time for you to leave.” “okay i understand.” he begins to walk towards you door, but stops to tell you, “just so you know, it has always been you, y/n. i never stopped loving you.”, his voice breaking on the last word, but you just give him a slight nod before he walks out of your dorm.

you walk over to your bed and sit down, staring at the ground. a wave of emotion washes over you, and you start to sob uncontrollably, your chest heaving, feeling as if you can’t breathe. you don’t notice eve being in the room until you feel you bed dip next to you, and her arms wrap around you. you lean into her as she comforts you and tries to calm you down. you don’t know when you could ever forgive joe for what he did to you, but it certainly isn’t now.

a/n: i kinda hate this but oh well

[makuro-ua]

Wally Darling x GN! reader — PART 1

“Smile for me, won’t you?”

Warnings : None

{——————————————————}

You slam the door behind you and slouched against it, crying. 

You just got fired from your favorite job, and not only that— you no longer have a source of income. Out of all the work youve been in, that job had the highest pay.

Now everything was gone.

You wiped your tears, and tried to take a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm yourself down.

Once you did calm down, you looked at your apartment wall for a few minutes, thinking about what to do now.

Oh, right.

Maybe looking at a few pictures of your favorite show would help. Although that… favorite show was old, it still felt nostalgic because that was the show you grew up with. But it suddenly stopped producing, and once it did— it flew over your head and you forgot about it.

Until a few weeks ago, you found pictures of Wally Darling as you were scrolling through the internet. You thought he looked familiar, and it was proven correct when the person who posted those pictures stated that they found a website trying to revive an old puppet show.

The moment you clicked the link to the website, your heart ached. You looked at the website, dug deeper in it, and felt a wave of nostalgia overcome your senses. 

It was if you were a child again.

The art of your favorite characters, that colorful yet warm color palette it had— not too vivid nor too dull. It felt perfect. 

Due to the show flying over your head as a child, you could only remember small fragments of the episodes and the main cast. You almost forgot that Julie had a family in the show until you looked at the website.

Thinking about the show calmed you down. Oh, right… you were gonna look at pictures of them.

You stood up and walked to your room, booting up your computer and heading to the website.

You looked at the character art once again, and wished you actually lived in the neighborhood.

That way, you’d have fun.

You never really had attachments in your life, really. Your friends moved on, your family drifted from you the moment you became a fully grown adult.

You head over to the ‘neighborhood’ page and clicked on Wally’s house.

You stared at him for a bit, eye-to-eye.

“I wish I’d live in the neighborhood with all of you.”

Your eyebrows scrunched together and you looked down your desk. You put your palms over your eyes and began crying.

Laying your head down, you began slowly drifting to sleep.

As you were about to sleep, you felt someone hug you from behind. However, you shook it off as your imagination.

You woke up.

But something… was different. Your desk looked much vivid, similar to ‘Welcome Home’s color palette.

No, your whole room was different. It was much organized and much to your liking. Accessories and decorations you wanted your room to have was there. 

However, your computer was replaced with a box of crocheting materials and a few books.

You squint your eyes and pinched yourself.

Ouch.

Where were you?

You stood up and walked around your house. It was the same thing, things you wished to have were there. It was if you were in your dream home.

But, when you saw yourself in the bathroom mirror, your heart dropped.

You were a puppet.

Similar to the ones in ‘Welcome Home’.

Were you?…

No, that couldn’t be, right?

You rushed out your house and your eyes widened.

You were just near the neighborhood. A bit far from the other’s houses, but you were mostly hidden in the forest.

You walked to the neighborhood. 

A few moments later, it felt like someone was watching you.

“Hello, friend.”

{——————————————————}

A/N : if this gets enough attention i might post a part 2 wahaha. Thank you for reading!

[matcha-kathrin]

STRANGERS - Chapter 2

Summary: You can’t seem to get a night all to yourself, can you?

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x reader. Again, until they share names ya’ll can picture whomever.

Word Count: 2.5k

Notes/Warnings: Surprise suprise no warnings. Light flirting, a bit of anxiety mixed with anticipation. I’m very happy so many of you enjoyed yesterday’s first part! I had this already ready to go so I couldn’t wait to post it, part three may take a while so stay tuned for the next update!

Please read Strangers - Chapter One before this one. Thank you.

~*~

STRANGERS – Chapter Two

As most sudden meetings go you soon forgot about the stranger you met one late night at the speakeasy bar of your street. Even though every time you’d pass by your now favorite bar you couldn’t help but feel a tang of sorrow in your chest, mixed with something else. Was it expectation? You sometimes would look through the windows of the place and wonder if he was in there, searching for him before you could realize what you were doing. You huffed at yourself in amusement when you caught yourself. What did you expect? You knew that if the two of you were ever to meet again the fantasy would be broken, the moment you shared no longer a special memory. So, in fear of losing such a memory you soon distracted yourself with other things.

But sometimes, when you sat on the small fire escape outside your window to enjoy a small smoke break, the chilly air and soft noise of the streets would lead your mind right back to him. His tired posture, his brown eyes that looked at you from underneath those sunglasses. And his low voice, a voice that was getting harder and harder to recall as time passed.

Such was life. A blissful torture made of a string of encounters, each one beautiful and unique in their own way. Each one leaving you always craving for more. But it never came. And you were fine with that, sometimes you had to get out of your head. Those moments were nice, but what were they really? They weren’t real, they were the moments poets would write about, moments where the world didn’t exist, and two individuals shared a common thought. Beautiful, torturous moments.

It was better this way; you would think to yourself. It’s what you thought every time it happened, even if it had happened only a handful of times. You remember the one time you had tried hard to find one of your encounters, and you did, but it was all wrong. The magic of it all had…left. Your encounter had changed, the person no longer the one you had shared such a fond moment with, and inevitably the memory was ruined. You’d be damned if you’d let it happen again.

Unfortunately, many things were ultimately out of your control, as you so tried to explain to the stranger you had met weeks ago. Most of the time things happen with no reason and no explanation, and even before you realize what situation you’re in it’s too late. It was, once again, inevitable.

So, as you sat comfortably at a small table with mismatched chairs of yet another bar, watching the band that was playing in what you figured was only the best seat in the whole place, you sighed. Content.

You didn’t necessarily make it a habit of going out alone, god forbid you tried asking the few friends you had actually made in this hectic city to join you, but you failed. People had lives, priorities. No one could fault them for that, much less you. What were you to do? Not go out? Just because you were alone didn’t mean you couldn’t keep your own company, and the air was right.

Your feet had led you to the bar you were sitting in almost by their own will. And there you were, smiling happily as you watched the band play, tapping your foot lightly on the ground to keep tempo. And soon enough the song came to an end, breaking the unity that was suspended in the bar as people clapped, and chatter overlapped almost immediately. It was the noisy breaks that interested you the most, how people laughed, how the band took a few minutes to sip their beers and drinks, sweat on their foreheads glistening under the colored spotlights. And there you sat, taking it all in.

“Are you waiting for someone?” A voice asked from above you, you turned your head to the chair in front of you, not looking up at the man whose hands were on it.

“Oh, no I’m not. You can take it.” You smiled, looking up politely. But you stopped, your smile instantly dropping. Being met with brown eyes you thought you’d never see again.

“I was actually thinking of joining you, may I?” He asked, a small smile playing on his lips as he watched your surprised expression.

“I-” you stuttered, the words not seeming to form on your lips “sure, I wouldn’t mind the company.”

There he was; the stranger. Dressed much similarly to when you two first met. Only this time instead of a plain loose shirt he had a buttoned one, still loose. You were starting to see a pattern in his choice of clothes. Loose, comfortable, always paired with jeans and his leather jacket, which he hung at the back of the chair before sitting in front of you. And of course, his ridiculous sunglasses. It was already quite dark in the bar; you wondered if he could even see anything at all. For a moment there was silence, and you just looked at each other. It seemed eternal, but it was more of a split second than anything. Then the music started back up again, and you were awoken from your trance.

“How did you even recognize me with those things?” You laughed finally, not being able to contain your amusement at how weird he looked with such dark shades. He frowned, feigning offense.

“I happen to be used to them, thank you. I can see you just fine.” You were already feeling a warm buzz when he sat down, but now that he was leaned in front of you, his elbows on the table, telling you how he could see you clearly you couldn’t help but feel the creeping nervousness make its way up your neck. Oh, how you wished you were slightly tipsier. In fact, you replied by just picking up your drink and taking a sip, trying to hide your face as you did.

“I’ve never seen you here before, did you get bored of our special place already?” He flirted, and it took every ounce of self-control in your body not to sputter in your glass. Why was he here? Why was he flirting?

“If I told you the places I frequent we wouldn’t be strangers now would we?” you lulled “Besides, what’s so wrong with this place?” You continued, looking around as if trying to find fault in the perfectly quaint bar you were sitting in. He didn’t follow your gaze, just kept his eyes on you. Much to your nervousness.

“Nothing, I just grew fond of the other one that’s all.”

“I can imagine.”

“Can you?”

“So, what’s in store for you tonight then, hmm?” You quickly changed the subject. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the way he was talking to you, his voice loud enough for you to hear him, but not as loud for others to hear. And his voice. It was better, better than what you remembered. And it terrified you.

He seemed…scruffier than the last time you saw him, his patchy beard unkept, his hair tousled messily and well…his sunglasses were dark sure but that didn’t seem to hide the bags under his eyes as he sighed.

“I was hoping for another break…you see I’ve had a lot going on in my mind since…” He hesitated, looking between you and the table between the two of you “since the last time we spoke. I guess I still have to get better at…getting unstuck.”

It seemed like you kept getting closer to figuring out where you had seen him. Was he a model? Some sort of social sensation? He definitely had the looks for it, but for some reason each time you got closer to figuring out where you had seen him your mind just froze and you lost it. Maybe it was the drink you kept sipping or the warm air between you. Or maybe it was the way he kept looking at you. A way strangers would never look at one another. You snapped yourself back to reality, you didn’t know this man, didn’t know his name. You couldn’t deny the blatant chemistry between you but again…he was a stranger. And he was to remain as such.

“Don’t you think maybe you’re expecting too much of yourself?” You quietly asked as he had waited for your answer. He looked up at you again, as if in a daze, as if you could have said anything in the world and he would still be in awe.

“We have certain expectations of ourselves,” you continued, a small smile forming as you saw his stupor “we have to learn when to say no. You keep talking about being stuck- and tired, but I wonder if you’re not just doing too much? Maybe you’re mixing others expectations of you with your own, maybe you just don’t know how to put yourself first for once.”

He was lost in you, listening to your every word as if hungry, as if deprived of the sound of your voice. Mistaking it for distraction you placed your hand on his gently, making him freeze beneath you. Until he eased completely under your touch. “You have to take time for yourself, it’s okay to say no. It’s okay to disappoint others if it means you get to be happy.” You don’t know if the words you were speaking were for him or more for yourself, but his skin was feverishly hot under your fingertips, it was the best feeling in the world. His warm, tan skin, all to yourself.

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as he so often did. You wondered if it meant he was nervous. “You…” he started, looking at you from underneath his glasses as he did the first night you met, and you could feel your heart in your throat “How do you know what to say even though I gave you nothing to go on?”

“Who knows,” you lifted your hand from his, seeing a small flash of disappointment in him as you did “maybe we’re not so different.”

“Oh, I believe we are.” His tone was playful, but you were anything but amused, his eyes…were really getting to you.

“Stop…looking at me like that.” The words came out of you before you could stop yourself. For a split second his brows furrowed, probably wondering if he had done something wrong, but he wasn’t blind, he saw how your cheeks were flushed. Maybe he was just kidding himself, maybe it was the heat of the stuffy bar or the alcohol in your drink.

Or maybe he was the one who had that effect on you.

“Looking at you like what?” He teased, but there was no smirk, no smile. The stranger was dead serious.

“Like…like that. It makes me- it makes me nervous.” You swallowed, you had been so calm, so confident. And suddenly you were a nervous wreck. He liked that he had that effect on you. Shutting it off you straightened your back, picking up your drink and swirling a few times before speaking. “Or don’t, I’ll get used to it either way.”

“Not so easily defeated, are you?”

“You thought that was enough to take me down?”

“I don’t know, did you think placing your hand on mine would be enough?”

You shut up at that. Narrowing your eyes at him in amusement. He gave a small laugh, feeling like he finally cornered you.

“That’s not fair, I wasn’t trying.” You quipped, sipping your drink. He hesitated, you weren’t trying? What were you like when you were trying? This was already more than enough for him, but he would never let you know.

“I was serious, about taking time for yourself. I don’t know what you do or why it’s got you so hung up, but I know a people pleaser when I see one.” You added, trying to get the sentiment through, of course you knew what people pleasers were like, you had been one for a while. It was terrible. Trying to appease everyone, trying to make everyone happy even if it meant you were miserable.

His smile fell, it seemed like you hit dead center. Seeing his expression drop made your chest tighten slightly. “But then again…I don’t know you. You’re the only person who knows what’s best for you. Don’t let some girl you met twice tell you how to live your life.” You laughed it off, trying to ease a bit of the tension that had formed. You wanted him to still think he could have his breaks with you, you wanted it to be light and fun. As it was in your first meeting.

Fuck. You knew it was going to be ruined. You should just get up, say your goodbyes and avoid him if you ever saw him on the street-

“You know me better than the majority of the people in my life.”

“Don’t lie.”

“Okay fine you don’t know me. But you…have a way of- listening to me for a few minutes and understanding me without me having to explain anything.”

“As I said,” you got up, drowning the last of the drink before putting your coat on “I don’t think we’re all that different. I know you all too well, because I’m just like you.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Of course I am, the more we talk the more we’ll know remember?” There you went again, hiding yourself behind a game you so desperately wanted to play out. A game he had no say in, but you wouldn’t let him. You didn’t know what scared you so much. He…had issues. That much you could tell. What scared you was the fact that even though you could see him coming from a mile away, you were still drawn to him. Dangerously so. The whole conversation was proof of it. You said nothing and everything, all he had to do was look at you with that look you couldn’t quite decipher, and you were sent into factory settings.

It was too risky.

“Maybe next time we’ll have a chance to share a smoke break again.” You whispered to him, placing your hand on his shoulder for a moment before leaving the bar. Not daring to look back.

He watched you leave, and he couldn’t do anything about it. Again.

You had such a finality when you spoke. As if once you decided to leave there was nothing that could sway you. He thought maybe this time he could keep you for longer, but he ultimately failed.

Ultimately, inevitably, failed.

“I’m nothing like you.” He whispered, taking his glasses off and rubbing the bridge of his nose after seeing you disappear through the windows of the bar.

[12connect]

a quick drabble!!

Hi guysss, this is my first little drabble that i will be posting so i hope yall like it! Just remember this is all fiction and pure imagination. Let me know if i should write the whole story. Have fun!!!!

You just finished high school and you're now packing for college when suddenly your mom entered the room. "Y/N, Y/N!!!!!! Guess who's back from Korea to study at the same college as you?" You looked at her dumbfounded not knowing who she meant. "How could you not know? JUNGWON IS COMING BACK!!'' (Jungwon was your childhood best friend until he moved to Korea 4 years ago.) ''Oh, that's so exciting....uhm I should continue packing now. Bye mom.'' "You didn't know....Anyways, bye sweetie!!" With that your mom left the room, off to making dinner.

You grew up with Jungwon as your neighbour. HE was sweet, kind, adorable and your best friend for 10 years. He moved away with his parents to Korea when we were both 12 years old. We stayed in touch for a few months after that but one day he just stopped texting, so i did too. When i heard the news about Jungwon coming back to study at the same college i was going to study at i was scared. Growing up Jungwon was always the sporty, handsome, popular guy and i was...well, me. I hope he will still remember me when i see him in college. But the real question is. How could Jungwon not tell me he was coming back after 4 years?! Why did he just shut me off after 10 long years of being friends. Are we still friends? Are we just strangers to each other now? What are we?

I was so lost in thoughts that i didn't notice my mom standing in my room, again. "Hello, Y/N?? Are you okay? Earth to Y/N??" "Sorry mom i was just thinking bout something. What's up?" "I forgot to mention that Jungwon, his parents and his sister were coming for dinner today. Isn't that exciting, you'll be the first one to see him back in America! So, go get ready and help me with the food please, mwah. Bye honey!" Once again she left your room and left you being stressed out. HE'S COMING OVER FOR DINNER, TONIGHT. WHAT DO I DO?!?!?!?!? You stood up and went to the bathroom to take a shower while still thinking about what could possibly happen tonight.

I hope you guys liked reading this little bit. Tell me if i should write the whole thing. If so there will be smut included and some other stuff. I hope to write new chapters every week or twice a week or maybe even more, who knows. Also tell me what i could improve for this story. I have some great things in mind so i hope yall will like it as much as i do!

*remember this is fully fictional and none of the things mentioned are real just imagination*

Bye bye loves ❤️

[keineahnung-ichhalt]

Tatort Saarbrücken/Ace Attorney parallels

To celebrate less than two weeks until FdG airs, I finally took the time to proofread this text about parallels between Ace Attorney and Tatort Saarbrücken that I wrote almost a year ago and then somehow forgot to post. Enjoy!

I have recently noticed that there are a lot of parallels between the relationship between Miles Edgeworth and Phoenix Wright, and the story of Adam Schürk and Leo Hölzer, so I decided to write them down. I have no idea if there is any overlap between these fandoms at all, so probably no one else will care about this but whatever. This should go without saying, but this has spoilers for the first Ace Attorney game, and the first three episodes of Tatort Saarbrücken. I’m also aware that all of these overlaps are most likely a coincidence, but I wanted to compile them anyway, because I thought that it was really interesting, and maybe someone else will think so, too.

You may ask: Who are these people? I will try to summarise their stories first, and I will go into more detail later:

Let’s start with Phoenix and Miles: They were in the same class when they were nine years old and became friends after Phoenix was accused of stealing someone’s lunch money, when Miles was the first one (and together with Larry the only one) to stand up for him and defended him in the subsequent class trial. A few months after that, Miles’ father Gregory, a defense attorney, is murdered and Miles vanishes (he is adopted by Manfred von Karma and presumably moved to Germany, but Phoenix doesn’t know that). Years later, Phoenix reads a newspaper article about Miles becoming a prosecutor, and he decides to become a defense attorney to meet him and find out what happened to him.

They meet again when Miles prosecutes Phoenix’s second case as a defense attorney after not having seen each other for 15 years. After working two cases together, Miles is arrested as a murder suspect, and Phoenix defends him in court, even though no one else wants to defend him and he is almost the only one who is on his side. In this trial, he finds out that Manfred von Karma, the prosecutor in the current case, murdered Miles’ father 15 years ago after he got a penalty because of him. Then, he decided to adopt and mentor Miles, only to frame him for murder 15 years later as an elaborate revenge on Miles’ father. By uncovering this, Phoenix saves Miles from being convicted for murder.

Now to Adam and Leo: They became friends after Adam defended Leo from bullies at school. Adam’s father was physically abusive towards him and beat him regularly. One day, he catches Adam and Leo hanging out together and beats Adam up so badly that Leo thinks that he’s going to kill him, and decides to step in by hitting him on the head with a spade. Adam’s father falls into a coma, and Leo and Adam burn the garage to hide the crime. A few months after that, Adam vanishes, apparently leaving Leo to think that he has died.

Later, they both become police officers, Adam in Berlin and Leo in Saarbrücken. Adam returns to Saarbrücken, and they reunite after 15 years. After they worked on two cases together, Adam is arrested because he is suspected of murdering his father. Leo works hard to investigate his case, even though he technically isn’t allowed to, with their colleagues refusing to help him at one point and maybe even believe that Adam really is guilty. In the end, Leo manages to prove that Adam’s father killed himself and disguised his suicide as a murder to take revenge on Adam and Leo for putting him into a coma 15 years ago.

Sounds familiar? Here are all of the parallels and overlaps between those two stories that I can think of, maybe there are even more that I didn’t catch:

They met and became friends in school. Both pairs only became friends after one defended the other from bullies.

Shortly after something happens to his father, one of them disappears suddenly. Incidentally, in both cases, the one who disappears is the one who saved the other one from bullies.

Adam and Miles disappear after something happens to their father; Adams father falls in a coma, and Miles’ father is murdered

They both reappear after 15 years, during which the other one didn’t know anything about their whereabouts (Phoenix knew that Miles had become a prosecutor, but only a few years before they meet again).

Phoenix and Adam both altered their careers to see the other again; Phoenix starts studying to be a defense attorney after he learnt that Miles became a prosecutor s that they could meet again in the courtroom, and Adam accepted a transfer request back to Saarbrücken.

Both pairs meet again in their workplace, though Adam and Leo work together now, whereas Phoenix and Miles stand on opposite sides of the courtroom.

Not long after they reappear, both Adam and Miles are framed for murder by their abusive father.

The other one fights for them, even though they are (almost) the only person on their side, and everyone else is against them.

Both Adam’s father and Manfred von Karma have committed crimes in the past and framed someone else for it: Manfred killed Miles’ father and both framed the bailiff for it and manipulated Miles to blame himself; Adam’s father robbed banks with a friend, and one of them shot someone in one of these robberies. Said friend took the blame for both the robbing and the shooting, and never revealed the identity of his accomplice to the police.

Tatort Saarbrücken episode 3 is literally Turnabout Goodbyes, the fourth case in the first Ace Attorney game. Miles and Adam are both framed for murder by their father figure as revenge for something that happened in the past. Their respective partner takes their side and fights for them, ultimately revealing their innocence.

They are also both happen after they worked together for two cases.

Again, do I think any of this matters? No, but I realised that these parallels exist and had to get this out of my system. And I had fun writing this. If you notice even more parallels, please share them!

[i-care-bout-things-too]

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

❌ What's a trope you will never write?

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

🎢 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

Love you babe!! I know the answer to some of these but 🫶

Wheezing so hard rn kitty cat you sent like 1/3 the list

Okay so—

👀: I started a Jon/Dami civilian au FOREVER ago, and it’s *this* close to being finished. I really can’t wait to post it because it’s a fun mix of fluffy and angsty (the latter is my specialty), where Jon/Dami have a very unusual first meeting when Damian walks into the veterinarians office Jon works at concussed, bleeding, and cuddling an inured raccoon.

“I am fine.” He says, resisting Jon’s attempts to be seated. He ignores Jon’s bewildered look as well and proffers up the raccoon he’s swaddled and had up to that point been practically cuddling. “Help him. I have grievously injured him and I am at fault.”

While admirable, Jon really wants to point out that he also looks pretty injured and also needs help. “Sir,” He replies calmly, even though this guy can’t be too much older than him. “You’re bleeding. I will help both of you, but we need to call 911 now and get your head checked. If I give you the phone and take the raccoon, could you describe the situation to an operator and explain what happened?”

To Jon’s horror, tears well up in the man’s green eyes. “You’re right. We should call the police, I need to be arrested for taking his life.”

❌: hmmm, now this is a bit of a hard one, I tend to write across a bunch of tropes and don’t really judge people for indulging in theirs… I genuinely can’t think of an answer, you’ll have to tell me something I forgot after I post this.

🎶: I’m always listening to music while I write. My music varies heavily month to months. I tend to find a new batch of songs and listen to them on loop while I write until it’s done or I get sick of them. As you know, I listened to Stranger by Thomas Day for the second chapter of the fic I gifted you, Rook, which is about very sad, angsty stuff centered around Tim and Damian. Click the fic name to end up on ao3!

✨: I actually love my own work sometimes, maybe not *always*, but there are fics I’m especially proud of. I’ll recommend (myself, yes!) Leave a Message, which is a civilian au fic about Damian celebrating his second Christmas ever, while really missing Dick who’s driving a taxi around Bludhaven unable to remember his family who’s waiting for him to come home. Trust me on this one, read it, I won’t let you down.

🛒: Damian running away. It’s a staple in a decent number of my fics, possibly because he does it A LOT in canon too. If I counted the number of fics where Damian was running away from his family or his problems, I think I’d be counting a majority of my fics.

🎢: This…okay look, I’m answering these like I’ve only ever written Batfam fic, which isn’t true, but we’re going to pretend it is to persevere some of my dignity. ANYWAY, definitely going to point a finger at Unimportant and Like We Were Then. Unimportant has spiralled beyond my control, and there are characters and things going on in it that I wasn’t planning for or expecting. Meanwhile, LWWT went from a 5+1 to a 33k word monstrosity with a plot that wasn’t planned either, but I’m actually quite proud of. Hoping to get the epilogue up soon ♥️

🤡: Basically the entirety of I Think I Have A Ghost in which Jason can’t remember his time in the league, and there’s a small child sized wraith who’s been following him around for weeks. These things are not unrelated. I’m proud of both works in the series, but particularly:

He drops a bag of tea in each mug, sits on one of a few stools around the kitchen island, and slides one of the mugs across the table to the side opposite of him.

He waits for the presence to decide what it wants to do.

“It’s going to over steep.” He tries.

It shouldn’t work. What ghost drinks tea?

Apparently, his.

The kid, because it really is an actual child, on silent feet, steps through the doorway to the kitchen and scales the stool in front of the steeping tea. All of this is done without a sound or any indication that this whole situation is really bizarre.

Jason raises a brow at the kid, and takes a sip of his tea. The kid copies the motion, only making the slightest face of distaste.

So not only is he not a ghost, Jason decides, he’s a posh not-a-ghost.

“Cool.” Jason says. “Wanna explain whatever this—” He motions between them, “—Is, kid?

The kid takes a longer sip.

Okay then.

Thank you for asking all these, Kat ♥️

[vicious-daughter-of-zeus]

ooc post

TW: SA

hello! so I uh wasn’t originally going to say anything about the @/demigod-jack-hearth situation (since it’s started to make me feel highly uncomfortable), but I feel a need to talk about seeing as Elektra is/was very close with Jack/Jack’s character.

and for anyone who would like to talk about this to me, my main is @daonedaonlyskh dm me or send me an ask.

and shout out to @unhinged-waterlilly for inspiring me to say something when I’m not sure if I would have otherwise. They probably would have just been quietly removed from all of my accounts and I would just never interact with them again, but I’ve never been one to not say something.

and Jack if you see this, I don’t wanna talk to you right now. I can’t talk to you right now. Or probably ever. Im not sure what to do right now, but I don’t wanna be related to you in any way.

So up until maybe a week ago I hadn’t known about any of this. I remember when the first apology came out, I had just gotten home from school and had overall skimmed it, I can’t remember if I just didn’t care enough to read it at the time and then forgot to do more research latter, or if I did read a little bit more into it later and just wanted to believe that Jack was fine, seeing as I had rp’ed with him so often and I had really looked up to him when I first got into pjo rp. But when he had another apology today it just…kinda irked me? It just seemed a little half-assed in my opinion. I understand he said that he is addicted to tumblr and to rp’ing in general, I think that I am too, but I’m just saying that if I fucked up this bad I think I would straight up delete my account and never come back to tumblr, but maybe that’s just me.

Ive had minimal conversations with Jack outside of rp. I’ve never dm’ed with them before, but I have had full conversations. I don’t feel entirely qualified to make a comment on their need for help, but I’m going to go out on a limb here and say they are a mentally disturbed individual who should be seeking professional help. I understand how hard it can be how bad it can be to admit you need help, and then to actually try to get it —believe me, I’m trying so hard to gain the courage to ask my parents about therapy— but if you are acting like this, you should be seeking help.

I’ve never been SA’d before. It’s one of my biggest fears, if not my biggest. My heart goes out to all victims of SA. I may not be a victim, but now that I’ve looked more into this situation, I can say with full confidence how triggering and offensive this was. Men can absolutely be victims of SA, in fact one of my own OC’s for my novel idea is. If I do decide to properly write that novel, I promise you (and myself) that I will be doing tons and tons I research to accurately portray the aftermath of being SA’d. But going back to Jack.

I can’t tell if his apology is genuine. I’d like to believe it is, but I could never be sure. Unless something drastically changes in the future (like them properly getting the professional help they need, for example), I don’t think I’ll be interacting with them again. None of my ocs will.

not sure if I should tag anyone but yeah that’s just what I wanted to say.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Pierre Novellie's 2022 stand-up show, Why Can't I Just Enjoy Things, has just appeared on YouTube for free, which is awesome. This show was what inspired his book of the same name, also recently released. Basically the events described at the end of this show inspired him to write a book, and now he's released the book and a video of the show at the same time.

I heard this show about a year and a half ago and enjoyed it, and then heard his 2023 show, Why Are You Laughing?, and thought that was amazing, a step above the decently high bar set by his previous stuff that I knew of (Why Can't I Just Enjoy Things and Quiet Ones, also on YouTube), which means I pretty much forgot about this previous one. But I watched this video this afternoon and was reminded that this show was also very entertaining. I think he was first introduced to me as an observational comedian for people who aren't into observational comedy, which is pretty accurate. A lot of his topics are well-trodden ground for stand-up (though not all his topics are), but he does them really well. I highly recommend this video if you want to hear a man observe how irritating it is when people do life wrong.

I had no idea he was releasing a film of this show, so it was a nice surprise when that appeared on YouTube this week. We've had a few announcements of upcoming ones recently, though. There's a release date for John Kearns' The Varnishing Days, his 2023 show and somehow his first filmed stand-up special (though he did release that one show on vinyl that was lovely). I think it's a parenthood show and those don't tend to be my thing, but I make exceptions for very very good ones, and this one is supposed to be very very good, so I'm looking forward to its release. August 31, apparently.

They've also just announced that on September 10, Ahir Shah's Ends is coming to Netflix. Fair warning to everyone who follows me on Tumblr, that is going to be a big one where I will not rest until I've made everyone I've ever met watch it. That show was absolutely brilliant.

I'm currently doing my Edinburgh Fringe Festival 2024 comedy admin, and having a fantastic time, as I put together a spreadsheet with all the shows I've seen so far. Will of course add more as I get them in from NextUp and anywhere else. I'm formatting my spreadsheet the same way I formatted the spreadsheet I did for the 2023 Edinburgh Festival, with the date and comedian and venue and show title and rating out of 10, but actually out of 40 because I include half points and quarter points, so I can sort them by that and see my favourites. I ended up with 40 shows on my Edinburgh 2023 spreadsheet, and of all those, Pierre Novellie's Why Are You Laughing? came in second as the only 9.5, and Ahir Shah's was the only 9.75. I made those rankings shortly before the award winners were announced, and was reading people on message boards talking about what will likely win the best show award and they were debating about all these shows that I either hadn't heard or hadn't found all that impressive, and I kept wondering if I had somehow misunderstood all of comedy for the fact that my pick for the best show I'd heard wasn't even getting mentioned by the people speculating (same with my pick for second-best, I do think it was an oversight that Pierre Novellie didn't get nominated for those awards last year), but then they announced the awards and Ahir Shah won and I cheered like my favourite sports team had just won the championship. I knew it! I knew that I'd ranked them correctly! I was right and the awards confirmed it! Obviously if a show that I'd seen and thought was shit had won, I'd have said that awards are the bullshit idea that a few people's opinions of a subjective medium count for anything, and they shouldn't exist.

Anyway, I needed to do a brief detour in this post to say "just so everyone knows, I called something correctly once", because I really like being right and think people show know when it happens, but the main point there isn't that I was right, it's that Ahir Shah's Ends won Champion of Edinburgh last year and entirely deserved it, it was brilliant. It's rare that a show can make me laugh that hard, that consistently, and also make me cry by the end. Usually you get emotional shows that are pretty funny or very funny shows that focus entirely on that. Ahir Shah had it nailed across the board. I am so pleased that I will soon be able to force everyone I know to watch it. And good for him, getting as big a platform as Netflix. Those awards are supposed to translate into further career success, aren't they? Sam Campbell won it, and the next year, he got a Taskmaster spot. Ahir Shah won it and the next year he got a Netflix special (and a Bugle debut, very important), which is awesome, but it would be great if we could tack a Taskmaster spot onto that soon, as well.

And in even more stand-up special release date news, this week we finally got an email from John Robins' mailing list that lets us know Howl will be out on audio on September 6. He said in January that it would be out around March or April, but realistically, September was always more likely. I can't blame him. I respect that he's going to the DIY route on stand-up releasing, editing the thing himself and sticking it on Bandcamp. Doing that with this show, given its topic, has to be emotionally difficult to listen to it over and over, as well as taking time and normal editing efforts, so I'm just glad he's releasing it at all, as part of me had a feeling he'd back out of that. I'm looking forward to hearing this one a lot, obviously.

We also got an email this week from Grace Petrie's mailing list, and I was disappointed that it didn't contain updates about the second filming of Butch Ado About Nothing, which I'd thought was happening this summer and supposed to appear on NextUp (on the subject of stand-up shows that have made me cry - I swear it doesn't happen all that often, I think Grace Petrie and Ahir Shah are the only two who did it in 2023). Hopefully that's still happening. It did mention coming to Canada, though. Only Western Canada, but it mentioned the possibility of further dates, so I'll keep an eye on that, in case she moves more central. (Though any Tumblr people in Western Canada, and I know there's at least one of you - I cannot recommend enough going to see Grace Petrie live, I got to last year and it was amazing.)

All this has also reminded me that I read months ago that Marjolein Robertson was filming her 2023 show Marj. I got to see her follow-up, O, in Edinburgh last week, absolutely loved it, which inspired me to look up whether the video of Marj ever appeared anywhere, and it seems like it hasn't yet. There's another thing to watch.

Okay, I think those are the major updates in terms of new recorded stand-up hours that I'm looking out for right now. Everyone watch that Pierre Novellie video, it'll be a good time.