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cocomanga · 27 days ago

Text

To DeServe You. - Ch.01

Pairing: Choso Camo x Fem!Reader,

CW: JJK AU, Angst, Good Boy Kink, Praise Kink, Size Kink, Oral, BDSM, Unprotected Sex, Edging, Drunk Sex, Aggressive Sex, Overstimulation, Yan(dear)y Choso🖤

Note: please block me if my work is not your cup-o-tea. I do not own any of the character art. Please respect my blog art.

Total WC : 9.6K

TDY Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | Playlist

Synopsis: Reader is working hard, meeting new people in a new town, and runs into someone she never thought she'd see again. After she left an impression on him that he never forgot, he vows to do anything he can to solidify a connection between them that will cause her to stay by his side for good.

So.... OMG y'all... I decided to just let it go. lol I would have edited, and edited, and edited until I made myself an entirely different story😩 I hope you guys enjoy. 😊

..... Minors: You have no business here. Love you, but please don't ....

▶TDY Playlist

Ch.01 - Unexpected

↞ ··· ↠

There he was again.

That guy, “Mr. Kamo,” in the same spot.

Curiosity bloomed more inside you every time you walked by and saw him sitting there. He sat alone, as always, nestled at a table in the corner of this fine dining restaurant.

It’s been nearly four months and he never missed an opportunity to show up, the light gleaming onto his face from his laptop as he sat comfortably in what appeared to be gray designer medical scrubs and black Pumas.

He ordered a light meal since it was late evening, just as he did every week: a Hibachi Steak appetizer, a side spinach salad, and a Hennessy XO.

He seemed to be a considerably quiet man: kept to himself, and was always polite and respectful to the staff and other customers. Yet, though the walls of the front half of the restaurant were lined with windows at each table, he made sure to sit at that one, specifically. Your table, every time he arrived.

At this point in the night your body was really starting to hurt. Two doubles, twelve hours each, and it felt like you’d been on your feet, shocking them with pressure from each step on the cement tile every second of each day.

“Girl, your table is ready to leave,” Shoko muttered, rushing past you.

“Okay, thanks! I’m bringing them their check now,” you replied with a quick huff, as you ripped the receipt from the printer at the computer and grabbed one of the puffy checkbooks from the stack next to it.

Finally, I can get out of here.

You whined to yourself as you rushed over with the thin piece of inked paper in your hand, along with the hope of receiving a fat tip.

“Hey! When do we get our dessert?!”Your customer at the last table yelled. They’d ordered it less than two minutes ago.

Two tables left in your section, and you, Shoko and Yuki were the last three on the shift. You turn to your frustrated customer, apologetic since you knew desserts were made-to-order. Like they care.

“I’m so sorry for the wait. It’ll be out in just a moment, sir,” you replied, hoping they’d calm down.

“My dude... relax. She’s working on it.” A kind and familiar voice is offered up as you set the book with the check down on the customer’s table.

You look over to see your regular, the handsome “Mr. Kamo”, addressing the customer in an attempt to correct their rude behavior.

You were surprised to hear him speak that way, since he was usually so quiet and reserved.

“That’s not my problem!” The customer griped.

“It kinda is your problem, though,” Mr. Kamo advised as he sat back in his chair, legs stretched out, feet firmly planted flat on the ground as he spoke with his hands. “You asked for a made-to-order dessert. So yeah, waiting for it to be made is part of the process, right?” He continued.

You smirked in his direction, appreciative of him sticking up for you.

Shoko then emerges from the kitchen with his plate. You breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks,” you said gratefully as you took the plate from her hand and set it in front of the customer.

“No problem girl. Done and done,” she mumbled under her breath, rolling her eyes toward the table as she handed you a new check without the dessert on it.

“Tough night again, right?” Mr. Kamo muttered, his voice as deep and buttery as always as he tucked his signed credit card slip in his book, handing it over to you. No doubt with another large tip scribbled onto the total in chicken scratches.

“Yeah. You know how it gets around here when there’s a concert downtown. It’s always good to see you though, Mr. Kamo,” you reply, accepting the book from his outstretched hand.

“Just ‘Choso’. I’m sure we’re about the same age right?” He said, smirking as he glanced up at you from his laptop.

You’d never seen a man up close so beautiful and mysterious. His layered, jet-black hair was thick and healthy, hanging past his large eyes in long strands, the sides and back stopping just at his shoulders.

He’s pretty tall, with a perfect athletic build, solid and noticeable even with his baggy clothing. As gorgeous as he was, he had ... a scar... on his face, stretching clear across the bridge of his nose, a scar that oddly intensified his appearance, making him even more of an enigma and, somehow, even more attractive. You glanced down at his bare ring finger, wondering what his story was.

“Here you go,” you turned to slide the dessert guy’s new check to him. “Thank you so much for waiting, sir. Your dessert’s on the house. ““

He huffed as he snatched the checkbook from your hand.

You turned to see Choso glaring at the customer. If looks could kill, the guy would legitimately be dead.

Hot and protective sure is a hell of a combo. You lock eyes with Choso, flashing him a warm smile with a blush, mouthing a ‘thank you’ for helping make your night at least a little better.

A smile curled up into the corner of his full lips as he asked, “Got big plans after work?

“Uh... Well, I can’t say yet,” you reply with a sigh, “since my girls usually have what we’re doing in mind already by the time I finish my shifts.”

You shoot a quick glance up at him from the money you’re counting after you’ve pried it from the pocket of your apron, and notice he’s watching you intently with his hands interlocked in front of his mouth.

His intense gaze often puzzled you. Possibly making you a bit ... uneasy? Though, you couldn’t pinpoint exactly why. He was a stunning man. And seemingly as sweet as they come, but there was something so familiar about him... A familiarity that seemed to cause a shyness to creep up into your belly in the form of butterflies.

You began folding the cash, stuffing it back into your pockets as you glanced toward him again, “My back and feet are really killing me so I may just ... go home.” You sighed as you sat down at his table, crossing your foot over your knee.

It was common for him to sit there for a bit after most of the customers had gone home. You’d make small talk with him, mostly about random nonsense, and he’d close down the place with the last stragglers, the regulars that received free drinks here and there.

As a result, you, and a few of the employees got to know him a little, though he rarely, if ever, offered much personal info about himself. Most of the time, your collective questions were met with just “yes” or “no” answers.

“You should do some stretches before you go to bed tonight,” he advised as his eyes traveled up and down your presence.

You frowned as you squeezed your foot through your non-slip shoe. “You think so? I try to do them in the mornings.” You muttered through gritted teeth as you pressed on a particularly painful area.

“That’s good too, but considering how hard you work here, and the pain you mentioned, stretching before bed will help with blood flow and relax your muscles. Might also help you get some better sleep,” he continued, observing your tired, glazed over eyes.

“Oh, okay,” you frowned, cocking your head to the side. “I hadn’t considered that, especially since I’m usually so exhausted by the time I go to bed. At that point, all I can think about is sleep...Thanks. I’ll try it tonight,” you said, as your smile spreads a little wider across your face.

If you didn’t know any better, you might have thought you’d seen him blush a bit as he averted his eyes back down toward his computer.

“So... I’ve been kinda curious about you,” you prompted, “What do you do, Choso? I see you come here in scrubs most of the time,” you inquire, genuinely interested.

“They’re actually Masseuse tunics,” he replied, glancing down at his clothes, then back up at you, resting his cheek in his hand.

Your eyes brightened at the information you’d gained, “Really? Are you a Massage Therapist?”

“Hey!” Shoko interrupted, yelling across the empty restaurant toward your table. “Are you gonna get clocked out or are you staying here to lock up?”

She turned her attention to Choso, “Mr. Kamo, we’re trying to get outta here!” She whined.

He chuckled, looking over to you. “Guess we both better go huh?”

“Yeah,” you turned back toward him with an apologetic smile as you raised your index finger to Shoko, gesturing to her to give you a minute.

Choso closed his laptop and grabbed his things from under the table. “You guys working tomorrow?” He asked, standing tall as he whipped his bag over his shoulder.

“Actually, no. Thank God,” you rolled your eyes, “I can’t imagine being here again tomorrow. I’m off from both of my jobs for the next couple days.”

“Both jobs? You have another one?” He quizzed, surprised.

“Yuuup. Well, most of us here are working toward other things. Shoko’s in medical school, Yuki’s training to be a mechanic, and I’m a social worker at a non-profit nearby.”

“Wow. That’s... amazing. And a lot,” he says with his eyebrows raised.

“Well, this place is a damn good side hustle,” you chuckled as you stood with him.

“Seems like it,” he uttered, appearing intrigued by your words as he smiled, his gaze softening.

His anxious eyes traveled over to where Shoko stood, quickly averted to the floor, then back up to meet yours. “So... I'm uh... I'm having people over tomorrow night. You think maybe you'd wanna come by?” he offers.

Your head snapped up to face him as a wrinkle formed between your eyebrows and your lips flattened into a hard line. You slowed your pace to nearly a halt, as you walked him toward the front. “That's different... you've never invited any of us out...”

“Yeah, I know...” he muttered shyly. “But since I've been coming here, I noticed you seem to be a pretty chill group of girls. Believe it or not, I've been wanting to for a while.”

“Really?” You asked, curious what kind of gathering he had in mind.

“Yeah. You, Shoko and Yuki,” he shrugged, “it'll be just a handful of friends. Nothing crazy. A few people, a few drinks.”

You take but a moment to deliberate. You figured you'd seen him and chatted with him more than enough times to accept his invitation, and the idea of being that much closer to him seemed to flare a spark inside you.

“Sure.” you shrugged. “Why not? I'm in. I'll ask the girls if they wanna come.”

He nods, a shy smile gracing his face, “Cool. Why don't you plug your info in my phone? We'll keep in touch.”

You paused for a moment, taken aback by the idea of exchanging info with him suddenly as he passed his unlocked phone over to you. You always wanted to, but it never dawned on you that he'd actually initiate it so casually.

“Um... Okay...” You take his phone gently and add your info, handing it back as your eyes travel up toward his face, his hooded gaze and vacant expression locked on to you as you place the device back into his hand.

Your big eyes glanced up at him and back down to the phone in intervals as your lips disappeared into your mouth and blood flooded your cheeks.

His eyes seemed to survey every one of your features before he finally spoke. “See you later then?” He asks with a subtle smirk as he moves toward the door, pressing in the golden handle to leave as he waved back toward Shoko's agitated glare.

You walked over to her with a wry smile on your face as you approached.

“What were you guys over there talking about for so long?” She asks as you follow her out the back door for her end-of-shift smoke.

“He was inviting us out tomorrow night.”

“Really?” Her face mimicked the same confusion yours did. “Out where?”

“His place, apparently,” you shrugged, shaking your head, “said he's having people over and wants us to come by.”

“Wow. Sounds cool. Seems like a great guy, too,” she lights up and takes a puff as she finds her stool she kept outside to sit on. “'Cept I think he's just trying to get you over there.”

“Huh?” You uttered, “What makes you think it's just me?”

“What do you mean?” She huffed, “He's been sitting in your section every week, consistently, for the past few months. You're telling me you haven't noticed he's into you?” She asks, as she takes another drag of her already half gone Newport.

“Oh come on. I mean, for all I know he just likes the window seat,” you shrugged. “It'd be kinda arrogant for me to assume he's just there for me.”

“Tch... How much did he tip you?” She asked, with her eyebrows raised.

“Oh, damn I didn't even see. You called me over before I could look at his check,” you dug inside your apron and grabbed the last black book you had inside and opened it.

Your lips parted slightly mimicking a jaw drop when you saw the number. “Shoko...” you said, as you looked over at her, wide-eyed.

She glanced over your shoulder at the check. “Are you kidding me?!” Shoko chuckled, nearly choking on her cigarette as she saw his tip was two-hundred dollars, on top of the mere eighty-five bucks he'd spent on food.

“What the hell?” You said, frowning as you slapped the book shut.

Shoko giggled, “That's damn near five-hundred dollars he's spent on you this month, just coming to eat at your restaurant,” she murmured.

“He tipped you too, when he first started coming here!” You whined, a poor excuse to justify your position.

“Girl, please,” he gave me like forty bucks that night, and it was only because you weren't here!” She retorted, laughing. “Meanwhile, he's made you a regular monthly expense.”

You sat there in shock, realizing she's probably right, but not understanding what the hell he's doing. “Who does this? And … If that's the case, why hasn't he just asked me out? It's been nearly four months.”

“He just did, right?”

“Yeah, but after that long? I don't get it,” you said, completely perplexed.

“Look, let's just show up tomorrow night and see how it goes. Maybe you'll get some answers then,” she opened the back door, staring with raised brows, holding it open for you.

“Just exactly how long did you plan to have me waiting in here?” Yuki asked as she saw the two of you coming back in from the rear patio.

“My bad, Yuki. You know, you could've just come outside with us.” Shoko grumbled.

“And end up smelling like cigarettes? No thanks,” she retorted. “Can we please get out of here, I don't like hanging out where I get paid.”

Shoko huffed, “Oh my god, woman, alright. Let's get home.”

↞ ··· ↠

“Are you sure this is the place?” You asked Shoko as she drove down the dark road full of trees.

“That’s what’s in the GPS...” she said, frowning. “Unless he gave you shit for directions.” She let her window down a bit as she lit another cigarette.

“It’s awfully dark back here,” Yuki complained, with a turned-up nose, barely making out the trees whooshing past the window though the pitch black.

“Yeah it is...” Shoko squints through her smoke and the faint glow the headlights provided, regardless of the brights.

“Looks like we’re finally close at least,” Yuki interjected, peering at what was a glimpse of a few lights in a house at the end of the road as she rolled her window completely down. “Shoko, God. I really don’t wanna smell like cigarettes when we get there.”

“Oh, be quiet, you’ll live,” Shoko retorted.

“Oh ... my god,” you replied, picking up on what Yuki saw, the building finally coming into view. “Looks like we’re ... here?”

Shoko was seemingly just as shocked as you. ”Whoa,” She muttered.

As the headlights of the car illuminate the property, you pull up to a beautiful, eclectic, mini-mansion nestled away in the middle of this thick forest. The wheels of the car rumble softly as you roll up onto the smooth bound resin driveway of a three car garage.

“What does he do again?” Yuki asked, her brow furrowed in confusion. “You said he was a massage therapist?”

“Well, we were getting to that part but...” you started, as you shook your head, your eyes darting every direction, taking in the beautiful surroundings.

Shoko shifted the car into park, then turned it off. You all paused, gawking at each other, ears perked as you made out distant sounds.

“Hmm, I hear music... let’s go in. I’m a hell of a lot more curious now.” Shoko grins as she makes her way out of the car.

You all exited the vehicle, then walked slowly up the stairs to the front door as the tall glass windows displayed a perfect view inside the house.

An adorable young guy with pink hair flung the door open, wafting the cool air around as it seemed to pull you in. “Hey, what’s up? You guys friends of Cho’s?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Shoko says as she introduces all of you.

“I’m Itadori, Cho’s younger brother. Come on in,” he said with a bright smile as he stepped aside to let you through the door.

One of the first things you notice is the scent. It was a fresh, yet herbal aroma with a hint of dark musk. Strong enough to be obvious, but not overwhelming; lightly overpowered by the smell of the food.

You step into a huge room, onto the beautifully finished hardwood floors of a space so vast and open, you could see straight back into the kitchen, and beyond to more large windows connected to a door leading to the back of the house.

The second floor was also visible from there, and as your eyes traveled upward, you notice a huge, wooden, intricately carved chandelier fixture mimicking tree branches, hanging from the ceiling, it’s lights brightening the entire space.

There were plants everywhere. Hanging plants, potted ones on the surfaces and a few large houseplants strategically placed about, a couple of them mini trees, stretching up nearly ten feet. There were even dried herbs hanging in the open kitchen.

The place was lit dimly but sufficiently, as the bulbs from the chandelier reflected beautifully off the windows. The entrance opened to the living room. A staircase along the exposed brick wall to the right of the door lead up to the next floor, the wall adorned with a few abstract paintings.

The kitchen, where Choso stood talking to two handsome guys, was full of modern stainless steel appliances, and every area was spotless. The taller guy was making drinks with a huge smile on his face.

The atmosphere was breathtaking. Warm, and inviting. You’d only just arrived and already didn’t want to leave.

“That’s Todo and Ino in the kitchen with Cho,” Itadori said as he locked up the front door behind you. “Make yourselves at home.” he walked over toward the quartz top island bar in the kitchen where the boys stood.

“Holy sh-...” Shoko mouthed to you, amazement plastered on her face as she looked around. “Let’s see how these drinks taste,” she says, smiling widely.

The three of you wander over to join them. You’d never seen Choso this way before. He looked so happy and relaxed in his element.

“He seems a little different here, right?” Yuki whispered to you.

“Yeah,” you agreed.

“Hey girls. Thanks for coming,” Choso’s face seemed to light up as he popped what appeared to be a piece of dark chocolate into his mouth.

That smile, though small, formed a tiny dimple between his cheek and his mouth. You didn’t see that often, if ever, considering his usually quite stoic expression. But you sure as hell wouldn’t mind seeing more of it.

“Thanks for the invite,” Yuki said cheerfully. “This place is gorgeous.”

“Thanks,” Choso replied. “Did you find it okay?”

“We did, though we were a little worried when we realized it was back here in the trees,” Shoko jokes.

He chuckled under his breath. “Yeah, sorry about that. It can be a little confusing. Especially in the dark.” He looked over to you, his eyes slightly hooded, piercing. His smirk still playing at his lips as he leaned against the counter. “You want a drink?”

“Sure,” you answered, trying hard not to keep gazing curiously at him as if you’d never seen him before. He somehow felt even more familiar now that you were in his space. You really did feel almost at home.

His eyes softened even more, blinking once sleepily as he spoke. “What do you drink?”

Gah... that face would surely be the death of you.

“Uh... I guess it depends. I should probably take it easy though, since I didn’t really eat much for dinner.”

“Hmm...” he said, contemplating as he finished his chocolate. “Ok... one Bloody Mary, coming right up. I’ll even add a celery stalk.” He said, his eyes almost refusing to tear away from you as he turned to make it.

You pressed your smile in, flattening your lips into a thin line. Fine and clever. “That’s actually perfect. Thank you”.

“Of course. I hope you can relax while you’re here.” His demeanor emitted a quiet confidence, but was contradicted by the slightest bit of timidity, making him all the more beautiful.

You tried focusing your attention toward your friends, yet Shoko and Yuki had already become preoccupied with talking to the other guys. It was becoming a little more obvious that Shoko was right.

You watched as he meticulously crafted your drink in a metal shaker first, then poured it into a small mason jar with a handle, adding a salt mix to the rim, then dropping in a celery stalk and ... a skewer... with food on it?

You frowned in confusion, having never seen anyone make a bloody mary look so ... delicious. He added chicken breast cubes, black olives, and cheese from the snack plates he had out. It was crazy.

“Wow. How did you learn to do that?” You asked, fascinated by his ease.

“My mom,” he responded with a small sigh, “she’s brilliant in the kitchen.” He’s quiet for a beat, then asks, “Come outside with me?” as he nodded toward the back door.

He grabs both glasses and walks toward the door behind the kitchen, which led out to his enormous fenced backyard, the entire area surrounded by even more lush green land.

On your way out, you eyeballed the girls so they’d have an idea of where you were headed. “So... I’m more curious than ever now, Choso. What is it that you do again?”

“Yeah, we didn’t exactly get to finish that conversation, did we?” He blushed as he looked down at the drinks in his hand, passing one to you.

You shook your head, taking a sip. Your eyes brightened, brows furrowing as the flavor hit your tastebuds. “Wow, that’s good. Even a little spicy. Yum...!” You giggled, sipping more.

“Thanks. I’m glad you like it,” he said with a grin, obviously pleased with his handiwork.

He sits down on one of the chairs in front of a crackling fire pit. You sit at an angle next to him on another chair. He took a sip of his drink, minus the food.

“So... I actually have a doctorate in Hematology and own a Massage Clinic.”

Your eyes grew wide as you sipped. “What?” Surprise and genuine interest gracing your voice. “Wow... Y-You own one?” One of your eyebrows shot up. “Well, that explains the sound advice you gave me before,” you huffed, smiling brightly.

“Yeah.” He chuckled. “I worked pretty hard in college. Nothing mattered to me more than getting out on my own to make enough to take care of my mother.”

“Your mother?” You echoed, curiosity growing behind your eyes and voice. “Where is she now?”

“Well, she and my father separated when I was in college. Things were... difficult. But she’s doing well now. I actually got this place relatively cheap off of her. It belonged to both my parents. She moved back home and didn’t want to sell it outside of the family,” he explains to you.

You nod slowly as he elaborates and you hum, “I’m glad she’s well now. This house...it’s immaculate. Looks like they put a lot of work into it. But so did you, right? Now that I know what you do, it definitely suits you.”

He looked up at you with a warm smile, “Thanks. It’s pretty convenient for work. A lot of the herbs I use for tinctures and aromatherapy are here on this land. I even work from here when offering services to some of my VIP’s.”

You raise your brows, intrigued, “VIP’s, huh?” It was proving to be exciting getting to know him. Turns out he was far more interesting than you thought, but you wanted to know more.

“Yeah, some of my clients I went to school with, and some I met at events. Business just grew from word of mouth. I can’t say I’m good at networking.” He looked up at you after a pause. “But...I’m actually curious about you, too. How did you end up getting into social work?”

“Well, after I finally chose a major at college, I studied for the degree, then received an opportunity here in this city to work at a great place.” Another smile spread across your face as you looked out into the dark green of his vast backyard. You took a deep breath and continued, “It’s good money for the time I’m there, but I’m not as often as I’d like to be. I do love it, though.”

“So, at your part time job you help people, and at your full-time job you serve people?” Choso asked, his lips turning up in one corner.

You glanced down into your glass with a huff, “Yeah. I guess I do.”

“Who’s serving you?” He asked, his eyes burrowing into yours as he peers up at you from his position in his chair, one eyebrow raised.

You return a shy glance in his direction, your brow furrowing a bit, eyes fluttering as you search your brain for what felt like an answer to a trick question.

“I uh... I dunno,” you sighed, and silence falls between you. “I suppose I could ask you the same thing, ’Doctor’.”

“Touché,” he murmured, letting out a small chuckle.

You laugh softly at his reply. “But... there’s something else that I don’t understand. I mean, you’ve been visiting us nearly four months now, and never invited us out. Why tonight?” You squinted, “And ... What’s with the crazy tips?”

He smiled, looking down at his drink, his feet planted flat on the ground, resting his elbows at his knees. He took a deep breath and looked up at you as if you already had the answer.

Your head cocked to the side, curiosity obvious on your face, not to mention, your apparently very strong drink was starting to kick in.

“What’s a guy like you doing coming to a restaurant on a weekly basis, just to drop large bills on a woman you just met?” You press further.

He continued to hold his head down toward his drink as you spoke, swirling it around in his hand. His eyes flick up suddenly towards you. “Tch... You’re just as fiery and tenacious as always.”

“Always?” You echo; the buzz in your head created by that delicious drink traveling quickly through your system, the smell of it, even the fragrant greenery outside complimented it.

The more you relaxed in that atmosphere, the more you noticed about him, his features grew more attractive to you by the second.

Aside from the effects of the alcohol, a warm feeling washed over you. It was as if his meticulously curated environment had created a sense of relaxation that enveloped you. Clearly, he’s good at his job.

“Yeah,” he says, eyebrows raised, nodding. “Do you recall your last year of college?”

“Mmm...” you hummed, taking another sip. “Yeah. Well, most of it. I dealt with a complicated situation back then.”

“What kind of situation? If I could ask,” he requests gently.

You let out a soft sigh, strangely not finding it hard to open up at this moment, “I ended up in a coma for three months of it,” your brows formed a hard line in the center, “I really don’t even recall the reason. I just know I ... woke up in the hospital after having been out of it for that long.”

Choso frowned as he turned his gaze toward to you. “I’m sorry something like that happened to you,” he said as he looked out into the lush yard in the back of his house. “How badly were you hurt?”

“Well ... I had a concussion, a broken leg, and a fracture in my ribcage,” you tell him. As you took a breath, the aroma of burning wood blended in with the fragrance of herbs and the taste of fresh tomato, basil, and ... something else on your tongue. “According to my mother, I had been... attacked... by some of my classmates.”

“Attacked,” Choso uttered, still peering out into the yard, the word reverberating much more like an echo as opposed to a question.

“That’s ... awful,” he frowned, “You’re okay now though, right?” He asked, his gaze now raking over you as if searching your body for wounds.

“So far so good... I have a few scars though, of course,” you huffed.

He paused, slowly nodding. “Did uh... did you have a lot of friends back then?” his voice, lower and softer than before.

“I’d say I had a few. One in particular that I was really close to: Utahime. She’s still living in my hometown. I did have one other ... acquaintance ... of sorts. But... before we could get close, we kind of separated.”

“What do you mean ‘separated’?” He asks. You’re too buzzed to notice how seemingly interested he is in this topic with the endless questions.

“Well, he was a shy guy. Super smart and a bit of a mess. Wore glasses... He took a class with me, Psychology, but was one grade below me. I tried talking to him from time to time when I’d see him around since he was alone so often. I even tried helping him once. But it didn’t go well.”

“What happened?” He inquires almost immediately.

“Uh...” you frowned, sighing, lips scrunched up in one corner. “It’s kind of a blur...” you said, squinting as you shook your head. “I can’t even remember his name at this point. I don’t remember much at all about him except that I felt so...” you looked over at Choso, “comfortable with him.”

Your eyes darted back out into the yard, your expression softening as you spoke, thinking about this old friend of yours as you sigh softly. “He was brilliant, too. And quiet. I remember admiring how well he grasped the material.”

You stirred the remainder of your drink with your bamboo straw, continuing on, your frown deepening as you remembered the not so pretty parts of college...

”Some guys with a fraternity...ugh, they were such jerks... ridiculed him all the time. Masked it as joking around,” you scoffed quietly, shaking your head, “They kept taking his glasses, mocking him... It was so childish. I remember they broke a pair. It pissed me off ‘cause he never bothered anyone. I reported them but it was brushed off.”

Choso’s eyebrows jumped as he rolled his eyes. “Yeah... it was kind of a mess there,” he grumbled.

Your eyes flicked in his direction as he sat on the chair, “Did I tell you what school I attended?” You asked, now swaying a bit as you peered at him. Maybe you mentioned it in passing, but you didn’t recall doing so.

The crackling of the fire rang louder than his voice in your ears. He prompted you to continue. “But ... What happened to him after that?” He asked, taking another sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving your face.

You cocked your head to the side, “I don’t remember,” you said, as you ripped your gaze away, turning it toward the floor, in hopes that the blank canvas would help refocus your mind and maybe trigger a memory.

It’s silent for a beat, as your gaze trails over the floor, then back up to the vast forest ahead. He does the same, both of you just basking in the silence of the surrounding nature. Fragrances and flavors seemed to come to life in you senses, a tinge of particular floral and musky aromas surfacing in your palate.

You sit with your last sentence for a moment, thinking about how people come and go in life, the alcohol really making you dwell on it, and you bring your gaze to him.

As you begin to speak, he looks back to you curiously, “Isn’t it both beautiful and heartbreaking how people can come and go in your life? How they exit after they have fulfilled their purpose? Kind of like... hah, like a theater stage being life. And they exit the stage once they have finished their role, and you don’t see them until the credits - the credits being when you die, but even then, you probably won’t acknowledge them if the font is tiiiiiny,” you squish your thumb and index finger together with a little giggle, but Choso doesn’t share your humor in the matter.

He looks hurt. Pained, even.

“I’m sorry,” Choso says quietly.

“What?” You said, squinting in his direction. “That was so long ago. It’s really nothing to be concerned about now. Thank you, though.”

Choso put his glass down and stood, walking over to you, stopping a foot in front of you. “No, I mean, I’m sorry,” he said firmly, staring into your eyes with an intensity you hadn’t seen before.

“I um ...” you looked up, gazing at his concerned face. “It’s okay. Seriously. It’s ... not that big a deal anymore...” you breathed, wondering why or how this conversation suddenly became so much heavier.

“I’m sorry I did nothing,” Choso grimaced a bit as he spoke, cringing at his own admission. “I was a coward,” he held his head down in shame, as if in confession, as if spilling secrets that had been hidden, concealed in dark places within his heart.

“What?” You whispered again, gawking at his face - that pretty face - and your head tilted slightly, “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“You were so good to me,” he says, his eyes moving to meet yours. “Those assholes... they called me ‘So-So’. Tch. After everything, I really worried about you when you didn’t come back to school.”

You peered at him through your lashes for what felt like far too long. He holds your gaze, and you can see fear, hope, and regret swirling in those dark eyes of his.

What does he mean? He sees your internal battle, and he breaks the eye contact, casually looking down to his shirt where there were a pair of glasses sat snugly over the first fastened button.

You blink, slowly, the expression on your face morphing into one of shock.” Oh my god,” you gasped, unable to believe what... who you’re seeing.

Choso remained frozen in front of you, a slight hunch in his back, his eyes surveying your features which finally appeared... scared? Or just confused.

At that moment, it was impossible to know what to say. You found it very strange that you hadn’t registered the fact that a pair of glasses had been present there the entire time, though you acknowledged that your attention was drawn mostly toward his face since you’d arrived. Had he ever worn those to the restaurant?

It was as if you’d been under a light form of hypnosis, a daze of sorts that you’d somehow found comfort in. Though somewhere deep inside you, you were relieved the familiarity you felt toward him could now be traced back to a source.

“It’s been a really long time. I know,” he spoke softly as he hovered, no, towered over you. “I’m really sorry... for what happened.”

You were stunned, yet tipsy as you stood there, letting the revelation stew inside you of just exactly who had been sitting so close to you, having conversations with you, practically just paying you for the past few months.

Your breaths passed through your lungs much faster now as your eyes widened, taking in each part of his face, his body, his appearance, not knowing whether to be pissed, or to ask him how he’s been and be happy you could see him again.

The fact that your perception of him had completely shifted, that he’s now an entirely different person, someone you vaguely knew, weighing a thousand pounds on your chest as you took in this, “glowed-up” version of him.

“You asked me a question earlier,” Choso says, “That’s um...” his lips flattened into a thin line, “one ... of the reasons I’d been going to the restaurant. I came to see you every week because... I wanted to repay you.”

“Repay me?” You stood, staring, completely taken aback. “For what?”

“I feel... responsible,” he said as he straightened up. “Responsible for what you went through...for what happened.”

“How are you responsible?” You ask, heart hammering in your chest.

“It’s my fault. If you hadn’t been friends with me...” he shook his head. “I just have to make it right.”

“Friends with you?” Your face contorted in confusion. “You think that somehow caused a problem?”

Choso kept his head down, the look on his face a mix of sadness and frustration.

“Choso, I don’t even remember what actually happened. There were witnesses, but... It could’ve been a complete misunderstanding. Or even a total accident. To be honest, it’s a lot to rehash. Based on what I do know, I don’t understand your ... perception.”

The tipsiness in your body had numbed the feeling of revisiting this topic somewhat, and it hits you all of a sudden. You looked around, beginning to feel slightly dizzy, but very confused, not realizing you’d allowed a couple of tears to fall from your face.

“I um... I have to go,” you finally manage to get out.

You looked around for somewhere to put your glass down as you stood, shocked it wasn’t already shattered on the ground.

Choso stepped toward you, “Please–”

“No, it’s okay,” you interrupted, your hand raised as a silent request for him to keep his distance. “I just... I need to leave,” you tell him, shuddering as you exhale.

Your eyes darted back and forth as you attempted to gather your thoughts, remembering that Shoko and Yuki were inside. You turn to grab the handle of the door and push it open, walking straight past the four souls in the living room who now had terribly worried looks on their faces once they processed the look on yours.

“Shoko... um... will you...” you swallow thickly, “will you please take me home?” Your voice quivered as you worked to keep your flushed, teary expression to yourself.

Shoko panics a little, confused as you cross the room to the front door where she follows you, “Of course.”

Both her and Yuki’s attention turn to Choso, his expression pained as he stands at a ‘safe’ distance from you, yet making sure you get out okay.

“Is everything alright?” Yuki asks, obviously worried.

“Fine,” you nodded, “Totally fine. I just need to go,” you said, forcing a smile as you headed toward the door, both of your friends in tow.

Choso nods gently at her and Yuki, averting his eyes downward, then toward his friends. He walks over to the front door and locks it as he watches you get into the car and disappear back through the woods heading home.

↞ ··· ↠

You had actually lost sleep last night. Your brain was riddled with thoughts that kept churning repeatedly in what felt like an endless loop.

You never imagined running into anyone from your past, and of all people, him. Especially after having moved to an entirely different city. You had all but forgotten the heartache that came with that experience and now...

It happened a long time ago. Nearly ten years. But the PTS attached to it took years to shake, especially since there really wasn’t much closure, only questions and confusion.

No one had ever bothered to apologize for what happened, and up till now, the only ones who acknowledged it were your parents and the police who had investigated based on eyewitness testimonies and hunches.

Not to mention your hospital bills and time lost, having to retake missed classes, and the embarrassment of having gone through something so horrible. And since you transferred schools immediately after that, you never imagined anyone from there would be back within your proximity, and such close proximity, at that.

How did he even know where I was? I’ve been here over a year.

You couldn’t make sense of why this was happening. As you completed your morning rituals, your phone rang. A call from Yuki.

As you answered, you noticed a single text message from Choso.

Choso: ”Please forgive me.”

Your heart thumped once, heavily in your chest. I can’t believe this.

You answered the call from Yuki. “Hey.”

You had briefly yet vaguely explained things to the girls in the car on your way home last night.

“Good morning, how are you feeling?”

“You know, I really don’t know?” you huffed, staring at the message he sent. “He texted me this morning. This feels so strange. I thought that whole experience was far behind me.”

“What did he say?” She asked.

“‘Please forgive me’. That’s all.”

“What is he asking you to forgive him for?”

You let out a heavy sigh as you processed that. “I really don’t understand it myself. And to be honest I’m not sure I wanna know.”

“Why?”

“Well, I don’t recall why things happened the way they did. After what it took for me to get past the stress of it, I can’t say I have the desire to dig it all back up again. I don’t get why after all this time he’d show up here.”

“Is your gut telling you something’s wrong?”

You took a moment to consider it, “Actually, no. I don’t remember ever having a single negative feeling around him during school.”

“Well, he’s been pouring money into you for a while now, do you think he has an ulterior motive or something?” She inquires.

“I truly have no idea,” you sigh.

“Maybe just talk to him a bit more? Find out what he wants. That’ll give you some more answers at least. Then you can decide whether to cut ties if necessary.”

“Yeah. I guess that makes sense. I mean, it’d be great to know that much.”

“I’m curious what the hell was going on with the fraternity. Were they really so wild at this university that this behavior was blatantly ignored?”

“Well, he definitely wasn’t the only person to experience them, they were just meatheads being assholes as far as I know. It was frustrating, though. That’s one of the reasons I bothered to intervene. Even I got tired of it.”

“Yeah. Can’t say I blame you for that. I would, too. But look, don’t allow yourself to feel pressured to deal with it all right now, though. Just...take your time and handle it the way that’s best for you,” she says gently.

“I’ll do my best not to wrack my brain over it.”

“Will I see you tomorrow at work?”

“Yeah, but only tomorrow night. I’ll be at the center in the morning.”

“Alright. Relax ok? Make sure you sort out exactly how you feel first.”

“I will. Thanks, Yuki.”

You bid each other goodbye and hung up. Your eyes flicked around a bit as the wheels in your head turned, already neglecting to keep your promise to Yuki not to worry. You gripped your coffee by the handle of your favorite mug, curling your legs up on the couch as you stared at his text.

You: When I was hospitalized, why didn’t you come to see me?

Choso: ...

It took a while for him to answer, you watched him type, then delete, then type, then delete again, evidenced by the bubble appearing and disappearing. You weren’t sure if he was making up an excuse, or actually having a hard time with the question.

Choso: I couldn’t face you.

Choso: Not after everything. Not until I could repay you.

You feel your heart clench and start to beat faster as you read his messages, and you type your response quickly with the first thought that comes to mind.

You: It happened long ago. The damage is done.

Choso: And it’s my fault. I’m sorry.

Choso: I’ll work to make things right. As long as it takes.

Choso: I could never make it up to you but please let me try.

Choso: Please.

The more honest you were with yourself, the more you were able to simply admit that you weren’t quite sure how to navigate this situation.

You: Why did you take so long to tell me? At the restaurant...

Choso: I wanted to talk privately.

Choso: In a better environment. & I didn’t want to scare you.

You sit and stare at your phone, and then up into space as you visualize his face in your head. It’s so crazy that it’s really him.

The guy you helped gather his things after he fumbled his books. The one who sat at the library studying alone only to be harassed by a group of random students with apparently nothing better to do.

What happened to him was pretty fucked up. He didn’t deserve that.

But of course, neither did you.

Who is he now?

He’s older, maybe wiser, but ... what could you expect from him?

He’s been to the restaurant many times, and was never stand offish, or fearful... not to mention his appearance. He was practically unrecognizable as your old classmate.

But... he was still warm. Still sweet. Still brilliant.

It was just so strange seeing him again. Being in contact with him again. And it seemed that you’d spoken more in these few months than you had the entire time you were acquainted with him during college.

Choso: I just want to do right by you.

You: ... I gtg for now Choso. Ttyl ok?

Choso: Ok.

↞ ··· ↠

You were already tired by the time you went back to work the next day. You suspect it was mental exhaustion. You had talked to a few kids at the Center earlier in the day, and they had actually lifted your spirits, but you couldn’t help how difficult it felt to just get back to normal.

After a few hours there, you had finally made it to the restaurant, walking in through the back door, just in time to pick up a full section of four tables.

“I’m sorry about this,” Shoko apologized as you were wrapping your apron around your waist. “Mahito is an asshole. He talked to the customers at the door and sat them all at your tables even though we told him you weren’t here yet.”

“Ugh! What the hell is his problem?” You griped.

“I wish we knew,” Yuki answers, “Don’t worry though, we got all of their drink orders. We’ll just transfer all of the checks to you when you’re ready.”

“Oh, I have the best friends everrrrr! Thank you!” You gave them a grateful look and smiled softly as you grabbed a checkbook from her.

“You’d better remember that when it’s time to pool tips,” Yuki quipped.

“Ha,” Shoko laughed, eyeing you playfully, “For real.”

“Oh don’t worry I won’t forget!” You called out as you rushed toward the front. You were already a little tired from having worked that morning, but your second wind was coming on.

You check yourself in the mirror in the doorway to be sure you’re straight before you head to your section, scraping any lint from your crisp uniform and apron. You saunter over to your section, and...lo and behold.

A familiar face sitting at your corner window table.

He was breaking his routine.

He had just been there a few days ago and wasn’t scheduled for at least until the rest of the week was over.

Yuki walks by you, raising her eyebrows as she heads to her tables and mouths, telling you with her eyes as well, “Talk to him.”

Neither of your friends had bothered mentioning that he was there.

You quickly cut your eyes at her before you approach him, your smile fading as you drew closer. “Ahem ...” You clear your throat as his head is buried in his laptop. He was wearing all black today, relaxed and casual with black combat boots and a hoodie, hair down, looking particularly ravishing.

“What can I get you tonight?”

“I don’t need anything else but this right now,” he says as he nods toward his Hennessy, his dark locks falling over his face, quickly swiped behind his ear as he stares up at you.

“Okay,” you reply, turning away. “I’ll be back in a few min–”

“Except...” he grabs your arm to stop you, “you can tell me what I can do for you.”

“Um...” you laugh nervously as you look down at his strong hand wrapped completely around your tiny wrist. “Choso... come on... I’m a little busy right now.”

“Okay, okay. I know. But if you’d just tell me real quick, I’ll be cool,” he says, taking a sip of his drink, using his free hand, his eyes raking over your form.

“We’re ready to order,” another table calls over to you.

You glance over to them before turning back to Choso. “I have to go...”

“Alright,” he says, slowly releasing your arm, causing your hand to slide through his, his fingers tracing your palm as you pull away.

Choso sat there. All night. Just as he had the last time he was there.

Ironically, his presence made your night easier, considering you didn’t get other customers sat in that spot.

You were finished with work by 9:30, feeling completely drained as you cashed out. You walked toward the front to leave, only to see Choso sitting at a table close to the door, waiting.

Your stride slowed as you approached, “You know you could just text me, right?” You mumbled.

“Obviously. But why, when I can see you in person?” He stood up from the chair, causing you to look up at him as he slipped the strap of his bag over his shoulder, both of you, just standing there for a moment.

“Come to my house. Have dinner with me.” He paused, “I just wanna... talk,” he gazed down at you through his darkened eyes, taking in your form and your sweet face as his eyes landed on your lips.

“It’s late,” you sighed, averting your gaze down to the floor as you tried to hide the heat rising in your cheeks from his intense stare, “And I’m tired.”

“This weekend, when you’re off,” he suggests.

You took a deep breath, figuring you may as well hear him out. You nod once and exhale slowly, “Okay.”

Choso nods, towering over you, savoring your presence one last time with a hint of satisfaction on his face. “Cool. Friday night then,” he says, his smile warming your heart as he disappears through the double doors.

“That looked like a positive interaction,” Shoko jokes as she heads toward the front door to take you home.

“Well, we’ll see about that. I have no idea what to expect from him honestly. Besides more apologies,” you laugh a little, making light of the situation.

“That’s a start, right? I mean, he’s been on your ass for months now,” she teases, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. He’s definitely persistent. I’ll give him that,” you mumble, watching him through the windows as he hops in his car and pulls off.

Shoko chuckles at you, an unlit fresh cigarette between her lips, “Alright. let’s go.”

↞ ··· ↠

Choso picked you up in his deep green Rivian. As he opened the door for you, he had to help you to hop up inside. Another pleasing aroma, cedarwood, perhaps?, filled the space of the ride, the lights softly illuminating the interior against the dark of the night, the soft music adding a sweet touch to the atmosphere.

After you’d settled into your seat, he closes your door and walks around to his side and climbs in, looking as amazing as always, his glasses tucked in a black henley with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and gray sweatpants.

His hair was down, his tattoo peeking out from under the sleeve of his right arm, his muscles flexing as you watched him shift the truck’s gears. The way he lit up your insides, you’d definitely call him hot. But, you remembered, that wasn’t always so.

However, he was always sweet, making his sexiness even more attractive now.

You tried keeping your eyes on the road, stealing glances at him every so often as he took control of the car, and of where you were going. There seemed to be a sense of comfort and relaxation that came with that, which you loved.

You glanced down at his legs as they stretched out underneath the dash, one knee waving back and forth as he kept his right hand on the wheel, the other pressed against his pretty lips, his focus straight ahead.

If only things weren’t so complicated.

You arrived at his home, and as you walked into the beautiful foyer, you could already smell some of the food he’d begun to prepare.

“Dinner will be ready in a minute. Make yourself comfortable.”

“Thanks” you replied, following him through the main room to his grey quartz island as you sat on the opposite side, observing him closely while he made his way around his kitchen.

As beautiful and strong as he was, Choso had a grace about him that was almost mesmerizing. Every movement, intentional. Every intention, deliberate. He lifted each vegetable up to take in it’s aroma before cutting, as if the fragrance was the final quality assurance test it was required to pass before use.

His tendons flexed clearly against his muscles as he carefully chopped each one, their juices barely spilling onto the cutting board by way of his razor sharp knife. Choso calculated every motion, and savored every moment as he moved, as if the journey toward the end of his process was equally as pleasing as the reward he would receive for the final result.

He served the plates on the corner of the island, as he sat across from you. “Enjoy.” he prompted.

He’d prepared a perfect Kobe steak, medium rare, with seasonal veggies and truffle mac and cheese. And boy, was it divine. The steak practically melted in your mouth, seasoned perfectly with herbs, the veggies were crisp and fresh as if he’d picked them himself, and the mac and cheese was decadent and rich.

“That was ... so good.” you raved, one eyebrow hiked up. “Did your mother influence your cooking skills also?” You ask him as you finish the last of your drink and set the cup down gently.

He smiles softly, his gaze traveling up to yours, “Yeah. She told me, ‘A man’s gotta know his way around his own home’. I learned plants from her, too.”

“She seems like a wonderful woman,” you reply, the tender look of nostalgia on his face making your heart skip a beat, and his deep voice vibrating you to your core.

“I’m glad you agreed to come,” he murmurs, that beautiful smile peeking again.

“Yet ... I really am still wondering why you invited me,” you tell him, “Choso, I hate to sound too... forward. But...is there something you want from me? I’ve been trying to figure it out, and I just ... can’t.”

He glanced up, locking eyes with you for just a moment, looking away quickly as if the contact had somehow triggered him.

“Look... I know I can’t change the past. And I’m actually genuinely happy that ... despite how fucked up everything was back then, we’re in good places in life. I just... I can’t help but feel like I’m indebted to you.”

“Indebted?” You shook your head, rolling your eyes in a huff, upset that he feels so much guilt still, “Choso, I’ll admit. I was shocked when you told me who you are. It really threw me off. I spent a lot of time getting over what went down back then. So yeah, seeing you here, now... it was... debilitating. I don’t know. Maybe I realized I needed something...some kind of closure? But you’ve apologized... for whatever it is you think you’ve done. We can leave it at that.”

He leaned against the island, his body facing in your direction, his eyes studying your face, following your every gesture, his gaze sorrowful. “I really am sorry. I wish you could understand how sorry. I regret not standing up to them on my own to begin with, but I regret even more that I wasn’t there for you.”

You purse your lips for a moment and let out a soft sigh, and he continues.

“It’s crazy how this kinda shit follows you into adulthood. For a long time, I let what they said about me shape who I was. And not being who I wanted to be made it worse. I was fucked up. For many reasons.”

He stood from his chair and walked over to you, and you feel your breath hitch as the distance between you grows shorter. “You don’t know this … because I never told you. But... your presence in my life meant … the world to me.”

You turn the stool and your body toward him, your legs propped up by your feet as you observed his expressions. His sincerity remained at the forefront as he spoke, sparking memories of the sweet guy you were once so kind to.

“You were one of the only people who made me feel like myself. Like someone who mattered. Like who I was meant something. All I want now, is to repay you for what you were for me. I’d like to do the same for you.”

Your heart clenches and you swallow as your brain processes his words.

He stepped closer, “You were always sweet. Always helping. Always kind. Even now. You haven’t changed. After everything that’s happened to you.”

You blink, your eyes glassy as tears cloud them for a moment.

“But...Choso, what have you been doing all this time?” You think aloud, your eyes shrinking into a squint, “You created a great career, a home...why haven’t you put this behind you?”

He shrugged, lips curling downwards a little, “I found out that you’d moved here after I started my practice. My mother had already been planning to move out of this house for a while.” he spoke softly, “I got busy focusing on my work, building this life,” his eyes scanned the room.

“I came here...” he continued, “hoping to be closer to you.”

↞ ··· ↠

Special thanks to the lovely @ashasdiary for not only beta reading for me, but for her wonderful support and helpful notes that pushed me to take this story to the direction I'm currently so in love with! 🥰😘 .

. Thanks for reading! ✨🩸✨

M.List | Ch.02 (Coming Soon) ↠

Notes: As always, I welcome any and all critiques, suggestions, and comments regarding my work, since I truly feel all of those may make me a much better writer! I sincerely appreciate you taking the time to read my little stories, and if you'd like to be tagged in releases, don't hesitate to comment below! 😊💖

©cocomanga 2024 | Please do not plagiarize, copy, or distribute my work.

Fanart by: @Arekushisu11 Ombre Caution/DNI & Animated lines: Courtesy of @CafeKitsune Additional dividers by @CocoManga

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reputationmunson · 2 years ago

Text

The Stars Align | Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

Summary: Your hopeless crush on Eddie Munson might not be so hopeless after all thanks to a trip to family video

Content: fluff, Steve has a little crush on you but you’re into eddie, swearing, making out, mentions of bullying, she/her pronouns, reader is a year younger than Eddie

Word Count: 3.1K

a/n: i haven’t posted a fic in so long i’m so happy i was actually able to finish something! i hope you all enjoy :)

divider by @firefly-in-darkness

“Oh my god, Robin, she’s here! How does my hair look?” Steve asks frantically as he sees your car pull into family video. “Who is it this week?” She sighs, growing tired of seeing Steve strike out again and again.

“You already know who it is. I’ve been using my best work for weeks and…nothing” he groans. “Really? Telling her about the time you had a dental emergency due to milk duds is your best work?”

Before Steve can respond, the bell above the door rings and you walk in, looking as pretty as ever.

“H-hey! Haven’t seen you in a while. I hope you aren’t cheating on us with blockbuster” Steve says when you approach the counter and Robin cringes so much that she has to walk away.

“Nope” you say with a laugh “I’ve just been busy, but I finally have a night to myself. Can you check if you have a movie for me?”

“yeah, anything for you- I mean, um anything for a loyal customer not like I’d do anything for you. Well, I might, but not in a weird way-”

“Steve” you chuckle “I didn’t think it was anything weird. Until now”

“Right, yeah. Sorry. Anyways, what movie are ya lookin’ for?” He sits at the computer to pull up the movies on file. “Nightmare on Elm Street”

“Actually, my friend, Eddie, rented that yesterday, but I can see if he’s watched it yet so he can bring it back for you?” he suggests

“Eddie munson? You’re friends with him?”

“Oh, yeah, but don’t worry he doesn’t actually worship the devil he’s just like this huge nerd with a weird taste in music”

“No, I know. I just, uh, think he’s really cute”

“Oh” he says in a bit of disbelief. he’s been trying to ask you out for weeks and this whole time you’ve had the hots for Eddie. “You think he’s cute?” Robin asks, appearing out of nowhere with a big smile on her face.

“y-yeah. there’s something about the big brown eyes and long hair, i guess” you sigh, dreamily while Steve thinks hey, i’m a guy with brown eyes and a lot of hair.

“Ya know what, feel free to look around and we’ll take care of something real quick” Robin says and you wander off to the horror section.

“Call Eddie” She tells Steve.

“What? Why?”

“This is fate, Steve. She wants to rent the same movie Eddie just rented and she also happens to be, like, totally in love with him” She states and he rolls his eyes. “In love, Robin? She said he was cute because he has eyes and hair.”

“Aw, you’re jealous.” she teases. “Well, kinda. I wanted to ask her out and I haven’t had any luck in months with anyone.” Steve whines

“Think about it. Do you really wanna ask a girl out who’s into one of your closest friends? That’s obviously a recipe for disaster, so call him” Robin says and Steve groans. He hates when she’s right, but he picks up the phone and dials anyway.

“Hey, munson. Have you watched Nightmare on Elm Street yet?”

“I got it yesterday, Steve, what’s the rush?”

“There’s a pretty girl here who wants to rent it”

“And what do I have to do with that?” Eddie asks, thinking Steve is just trying to use his ‘position of power’ (Steve’s words, literally no one else's) to try and impress any cute girl that walks through the door.

“Well, somehow the universe keeps finding ways to laugh at me because when I told her my friend Eddie has it she said you were cute or something” you can overhear Steve and you could die of embarrassment. You had flashbacks to middle school when your best friend told your crush that you liked him and he made fun of you for the rest of the school year.

“I am cute, Harrington and you know it. Who is she?”

Steve tells him your name and Eddie's heart practically stops for a second. He can’t believe the pretty girl he’s had a crush on for years thinks he’s cute.

“I’ll be right there” Eddie says before hanging up and sprinting out the door with Nightmare on Elm Street in hand.

“Welcome to Fam- Oh, it’s just you. She’s in the horror section” Steve grumbles when Eddie walks in. “Why do you have that look on your face?” Eddie asks Robin. Her eyes are big, smile even bigger with a hint of her ‘I just came up with a master plan’ look. “No reason, just go find your girl”

Eddie strolls over to find you and you look as gorgeous as always. You’re wearing a dress that stops halfway down your thighs, leaving your beautiful legs exposed, your lips shimmer from the gloss you put on, and you have an adorable look of concentration on your face as you look through the movie selection.

“Hey, you must be the pretty girl who’s just dying to watch this movie” He finally speaks up after admiring you. You turn to him and smile “you brought this back for me? you didn’t have to do that. did you at least get a chance to watch it?” You walk closer to him and the smell of your perfume makes him crazy. Everything about you just gets better and better.

“No, but it’s alright. I saw it in theaters, so it’s no biggie”

“Now I feel bad. You obviously wanted to watch it again and i’m only renting it because I’m like the only person who hasn’t seen it yet”

“You haven’t seen this masterpiece yet? It came out four years ago” he gasps and holds up the movie, making you giggle. Music to his ears.“I know. I’m lame”

There’s a beat of silence and if anyone were to look at Eddie, they could practically see the wheels turning in his head. For years, he’s been trying to find a way to work up the courage to just talk to you and now it feels like he’s been presented with the opportunity of a lifetime.

“Maybe we could watch it together” he suggests and feels like he’s stopped breathing until you give him an answer. You look up at him with your captivating eyes and nervously fiddle with your hands. “Yeah, I’d really like that” you respond and Eddie feels like he could do ten cartwheels right here in the middle of the isle. Little does he know you feel the same way.

“Yeah? Are you free tonight around eight?’’ He asks and you nod. “Can I get your address?”

Luckily, you had a scrap piece of paper and a pen in your purse and you write down his address with shaky hands due to the nerves from being asked on by the guy you’ve been hopelessly pining after for years.

“So, I’ll see you tonight?” He asks as you both walk over to the door. Steve and Robin are watching you both like hawks, but quickly act like they are working when Eddie shoots them a glare.

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” you promise and he flashes his million dollar smile. “Me too. I mean, of course I will, it’s my house so why wouldn’t I be there, um, anyways I’m gonna go before I say something stupid again” He chuckles, nervously.

“I should go too. Thank you for bringing that movie back” You touch his arm in appreciation and his head spins at the feeling of your touch. “No problem. Plus, this movie might be too scary for you to watch alone”

“Yeah? Are you gonna protect me?’’ you step closer to him, hand still on his arm.

“With my life, sweetheart”

Ten minutes before eight, you park outside of Eddie’s trailer. You couldn’t believe this was finally happening after wanting this for as long as you can remember.

You had transferred to Hawkins High your junior year, which was Eddie’s first senior year and you’d been smitten since. On your first day, he had one of his infamous outbursts in the cafeteria, and while everyone else was mortified, you couldn’t help but be intrigued at his passion. He was always loud and never let anyone’s opinions of him change who he was. It was admirable

The two of you never had many interactions besides when you’d let him borrow a pen in science class. You were always too afraid to ever say anything to him about the way you felt, and when you graduated while he stayed behind, you’d thought your chance had passed you by. Now, three years after you graduated, you’re standing outside his front door about to watch a movie with him. Life is funny like that.

“Hey- fuck, you look good” Eddie’s words slip out before he can process that he said it out loud and you chuckle “Really? I just threw on some comfy clothes, but thank you”

“You always look good. Anyways, welcome to my humble abode” He bows and motions for you to come inside. You look around once you're inside, taking in your surroundings. You’re in Eddie Munson’s living room and you know it’s silly, but it feels like things are finally falling into place.

“Make yourself at home, I’m gonna get the popcorn. Do you want anything to drink? I got some coke it you want one”

“Yeah, that’d be great” you answer as you sit on the couch. He puts the popcorn in a bowl and pours you both a drink. You take note of the Garfield mug he’s put his drink in and you smile at how adorable he is.

“Lights on or off?” he asks after he puts the movie in. “Off, obviously. Gotta have the whole experience, right” He nods in agreement, turning off all the lights until the tv is the only illuminations. When he sits on the couch, he sits right next to you leaving no space and you couldn’t be happier about it.

Eddie’s confidence seems to grow in the dark. He does that cheesy thing where he pretends to yawn and stretch so he can put his arm around you. It’s cliche, but it makes both of you smile, nonetheless.

As you sense a jumpscare approaching, you nestle closer to his side and hide your face in his neck. He can feel your breath fanning on his skin and he can’t seem to think straight. When you hear a scream from the television, you jump a little and he chuckles. “This coming from the girl who wanted to turn the lights off” he jokes

“Hey, don’t make fun of me. I was promised protection and that’s supposed to come without torment” You move your head to look at him and when he looks back at you, your faces are so close together your noses are almost touching. You’re about to put your lips on his until another scream comes from the movie, causing you to jump again.

“Can I tell you something?” he asks in a whisper. “yeah, anything” you move to position yourself more comfortably, but still close to him.

“I’ve had the biggest, most embarrassing crush on you since high school” he confesses and your eyes widen in surprise. “you have not”

“Cross my heart. You were the only person to smile at me when I’d pass you in the halls. You weren’t afraid of me like everyone else.”

“Why would I be afraid of you? You’ve always seemed like a teddy bear wrapped in leather to me.” You think it sounds too cheesy when you hear it out loud, but Eddie thinks it makes you even sweeter.

“Teddy bear, huh? I didn’t work this hard for my bad boy image to be compared to a stuffed animal” he jokes. “Bad boy image?” you scoff “You’re drinking out of a garfield mug”

“Alright, you got me there, but Garfield is a total badass”

“If you say so. Can I tell you something now?” you ask and he lets out an mhmm before you continue. “I’ve had a crush on you since highschool, too.”

“No shit? I mean Steve told me you thought I was cute but I thought he was just fucking with me” Eddie seems to be playing it cool at your confession, but he’s screaming on the inside.

“It was my first day at Hawkins and you were hard to not take notice of after one your cafeteria spiels. I remember everyone thinking you were obnoxious or a freak, but I was just enamored with you.”

“You never thought I was some satanist sacrificing children? I think you were the only one” he huffs out a laugh. Eddie’s life has been easier since high school. He still gets some weird looks every now and then, but things have calmed down. Although he always put on a brave face, some of those days were harder than others. It’s nice to know that you never thought he could be capable of doing those things he was accused of.

“I always felt guilty that I never stood up for you. I hated watching them berate you and what I hated even more is that I was too scared to ever say anything to them” you say, looking down at your lap to avoid eye contact.

“Don’t feel guilty about that. They wouldn’t have stopped anyways” he places his hand on your thigh and you turn your head to look at him. He has a look of appreciation in his eyes, like he’s trying to let you know that you didn’t need to say anything to those assholes. Just you being thoughtful for him is enough.

“I even left a note in your locker one day. It was when one of those idiots tore pages out of your campaign notebook and I guess I just wanted you to know that there was someone on your side”

“That was you? It’s been driving me crazy for years trying to figure out who that was!”

“you got it?” your eyes light up.

“I did. Still have it, too. This is probably embarrassing, but I’d read it whenever I had a bad day. I guess I didn’t want anyone to know that anything ever got to me and that I was above it all” He sighs. Eddie likes that he can be vulnerable with you. He hardly ever opens up to anyone about anything, but there’s just something about you that makes him comfortable. He feels like he could tell you anything and you wouldn’t judge him for a second.

“Do you still have it? The note?” you ask and he scurries to his room to rummage through his nightstand where he keeps it.

“Closest thing I’ve ever gotten to a love letter” he says before handing you the piece of paper that reads:

Eddie,

Sorry if this is weird, but I just wanted to say I’m sorry for how they treat you. I think you’re awesome and I hope you think that too. This town is a little less shitty with you in it. Never change

P.s. you look really good with long hair please don’t cut it

You chuckle when you read the last line. “I can’t believe you kept it. I knew I was right when I called you a teddy bear. You’re secretly a big softie, huh?”

“The softest. But only for you, yeah?”

“So that crush on me you had in high school… do you still have it?”

“It never went away, but now it’s even bigger than some teenage puppy dog shit”

Everything around you seems to drown out. You’re too focused on how close Eddie’s face is to your own. His lips look so soft and pillowy, the perfect shade of pink. You scan over the rest of his face, entranced with his beauty. His eyes are even prettier up close. You could count his eyelashes with how little distance there is between the two of you and you think that one day you will.

Right now, the one thing you’ve wanted the most is quite literally staring you right in the face. Not a loud sound from the movie, or even if the end of the world was happening right outside could take you away from this moment.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers, hand coming up to cradle your face. “Please” you barely get out.

Eddie gently places his lips on yours and it feels like this weight you’d be carrying around had been lifted from your body. Nothing in your life has felt more right than this kiss.

You’re kissing Eddie Munson. The boy from the hallway that always gave you a kind smile and made you weak in the knees. The boy from your science class who never had a pen. The boy who you’ve wanted since you were 17. You always criticized yourself for never getting over what you thought was just a silly little crush, but it’s always been more than that. Every moment leading up to this has been worth it and you’d do it all over again if it meant you got to kiss him.

You instantly miss his lips on yours when he pulls away and you can barely stand it, so you pull him back in. This kiss is more intense. You melt when his tongue glides into your mouth and his hand moves to hold your waist. You both put all of your feelings and passion into this kiss. It’s pure electricity.

You wish you didn’t need oxygen to breathe. You wish you could live forever in this position, but unfortunately that isn’t the case, so you both slowly break apart but not without him giving you a few pecks before fully pulling back.

His pupils are blown wide and his cheeks are flushed. His hair is a little messy due to you threading your hands through his soft curls. He’s never looked more beautiful.

“So, I know this was only our first time hanging out, but- uh- do you want to be my girlfriend?” he asks, nervously and you smile so big that it causes your eyes to wrinkle.

“I’d love to” you simply answer.

“Yeah? You wanna be mine?’’ he smiles as relief washes over him.

“I’ve always been yours”

Nightmare on Elm Street has been long forgotten. Eddie restarted it twice, but each time you both end up in deep conversation and he’s kissed you more times than you can count. Maybe one day you’ll watch it, but today isn’t that day. Not when you’re sitting next to the most kissable person on earth.

The End

#eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson on #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things fic

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odinsblog · 7 months ago

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Have you ever been over something, and then years later, someone, out of the blue, brings it up and it really just knocks the wind out of you?

Okay, so this is about high school. I’m nearly 40, so that’s multiple lifetimes ago, right?

I’m pretty sure that I’ve posted about this here at least once, but I can’t find the post to link to it

Here’s the deal

In high school I wasn’t …. hmm …. Idk exactly how to describe it. I played sports (track, football, swimming), but I wasn’t POPULAR popular, right? But I also wasn’t NOT popular

My high school (in Florida) hadn’t been desegregated for very long, and there weren’t a LOT of Black students but there was enough of us so that we felt as comfortable as you possibly could given the circumstances

But I was like a universal joint: I played well with others and I fit in well with almost everyone, and if you don’t include some of the overtly racist teachers, I had almost no enemies (don’t get me wrong, I definitely had my share of fights with school bullies, but after you win enough of those, they kinda stop trying you)

Anyway,

I cannot even tell you why, but for some reason in senior year I decided to run for president of the student class

Wild, right?

So after all of the preliminary votes, it narrowed down to two people (I was more surprised than anyone that I actually made it that far - I guess bc I never really expected to win, maybe running for student class president was kinda like a high school bucket list thing for me?)

Anyway, my final opponent was a white guy named Bill. I knew Bill because in high school somewhere along the way, it was impressed on me that I should participate in as many non-athletic extracurricular activities as possible, to make me a better rounded person, and I was in the SUPER FUCKING RACIST Interact Club with Bill. How racist was Interact, you ask? Well, you had to “apply” for membership to Interact. When I applied, I had no idea what it was. I just knew that my student counselor had suggested it to me, and why not ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(my graduating class was 2,500 students large, so it wasn’t as big as some of the schools I had attended up north, but it was “big” for Florida)

A teacher was responsible for actually running Interact, but the students really RAN it, know what I mean? Even though I had been working since I was 10yrs old, my Interact Club interview was probably my first real interview. It was kind of a big deal. Like, you had to schedule it and dress up for it and everything. And if you got accepted, your name got put up on a placard, prominently located on one of the main halls of our school

My first interview question, from the teacher in charge of the “club,” was: “Can you take racist jokes against Black people without getting angry?”

WTF??

To say the least, I was 100% completely caught off guard—I knew what racism was, and I definitely knew that it was present in my school, because I’d experienced it firsthand from other students and teachers, but for some reason I wasn’t expecting it to happen at Interact Club. Silly me

I suddenly became acutely aware that I was the only Black person in a room full of white people: the teacher/advisor, about 10 students who were already members of Interact, and mf Bill. Because OF COURSE Bill was already in Interact, and he was just grinning from ear to ear as I sat there in front of the classroom in this fucking “interview” from hell

BUT…! Anyone who knows me knows that one of my core personality traits is, if I get hit—no matter how hard—I always always always hit back. After a moment or two, my response was: “Yeah, can YOU take racist jokes about crackers?”

NGL, I’m not known for my quick wit, or always having the deftest or best clapbacks, but I surprised myself. I really patted myself on the back for that one

Nobody said a word for what seemed like an eternity. It was enough time that I still remember wondering if I might get detention or suspended or something

Finally, the teacher just said, “Okay. You’re in” and he got up, and quietly left the room. Leaving me alone with Bill and 10 not very amused white boys. Bill wasn’t grinning anymore

One or two of the guys got up (I was fully ready to fight, and I was cocky enough to believe that I could take them all down), but they just shook my hand, congratulated me and then they all left the room too

I would later learn that I was the first Black student in my county to get (“accepted”) into the Interact Club. This motif of, “first Black person to…” would follow me around in a lot of aspects in life, until my late 20s

Now, fast forward to the day before Election Day for student body president. It was my very first time giving a public speech. To a crowded auditorium full of my classmates. It was a little bit nerve wracking, but once I got into it, it was easy peasy. Enough so that I actually remember relaxing on stage and even ad libbing a few jokes into my speech. All in all, it wasn’t a bad experience. In fact, I kinda enjoyed it

Lmao, I made a shit ton of promises that I had no idea how I would keep, like getting the school to play music from the local Black radio station in the cafeteria during lunch—and the auditorium exploded in cheers and applause with this impromptu commitment of mine. Like I said, it was a good experience

Bill gave his speech, but I remember it being flat, bland and boring (kinda like Bill) and there was a smattering of claps here and there, and I distinctly recall thinking, “Is Bill really bombing here?” It surprised me because I was like, he had home field advantage, right? I mean, I could count on the Black students to vote for me, but collectively we didn’t account for more than about 15% of my student body class. We had to be bussed in. Bill shoulda been killing it. He had home field advantage, right??

The day after our speeches, was voting day. The principal told Bill and I that we would each be given the results in person before last period, and then the winner would be announced via intercom at the end of the school day. The principal made it clear that the loser would be expected to gracefully accept the outcome and shake hands with the winner. He was looking directly at me as he said this, but it didn’t bother me that much because I never really expected to win. I was outnumbered, but I was proud of myself for making it this far. And everyone who I passed in the hallways was telling me, “Don’t worry, O, I voted for you. You got this in the bag.” A surprising number of white kids were saying this to me. The football team, cheerleaders,… like … a lot of white kids. Hmm… interesting

Weirdly, the closer that me winning seemed like a real possibility, the more I wanted it. But there was no fucking way that I was going to actually win

In the middle of that day, announcement day, I was called to the principal’s office via the p.a. system. I was shaking walking down to the office

I made my way into the office and the school secretary smiled at me and told me to go to another room down the hall where “they” were all waiting for me

And now I’M SUPER NERVOUS

I get to the closed door of the room, take a deep breath, gather my nerves, open the door and go in

And the ONLY people in that room are Bill and that fucking Interact Club teacher, and a few members of the Interact Club. Bill is wearing this giant smirk on his face, and the teacher is smiling. “You lost,” the teacher bluntly told me. “Now shake hands with Bill”

And I start to shake hands, because all of the wind is rapidly leaving my sails, and I’m literally deflating in front of everyone, but just before my hand meets with Bill’s hand, I pause and ask, “How much did I lose by?”

This wasn’t me trying to buy time or anything, I genuinely wanted to know. I was just curious. The teacher looked like this question caught him off guard, and he looked back at two of the students, and then they looked at each other, and they whispered to each other, and then one of them raised one finger, and the Interact teacher said, “You lost by one vote”

Somehow, that was even worse than losing by a hundred votes

And Idk where this presence of mind came from, but I asked if I could get a recount (losing by one vote wasn’t sitting right with me)

The Interact teacher said he didn’t think that was allowed, but he must have seen the look on my face (I was definitely going to go ask the principal) and he gave me a disapproving sigh and said, “Okay, we’ll do the recount. Come back in an hour.”

And I was like, “WHO will do the recount?” and he gestures to the Interact Club members and himself

Oh. Okay.

I just walked out without saying anything. Bill and his friends and the racist teacher were in charge of the vote counting. Great. Fine. Whatever

Needless to say, when the “recount” was done, I still “lost” but this time, I was told that I lost by 2 votes

So yeah, it wasn’t thee worst thing to ever happen to me, but it left a really bad taste in my mouth, ya know? After it was announced to the entire school, everyone was coming up to me for days afterwards telling me that they voted for me and they couldn’t believe that I didn’t win

I always believed that I had won, but it was high school. Whatchagonnado? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

It wasn’t a life defining moment or anything, it was just something that happened, but it’s not lost on me that I still recall everything as if it happened last week

But I did let it go and I moved on

It’s something that I haven’t thought about literally in years. Decades, in fact

Until recently

I was out running one morning and a guy was going in the opposite direction and he kinda stared at me as I went around him. And then he yells, “Hey, is your name Odin?” and I stop and go back and tell him yes, and we start talking, and it turns out that he went to my high school. I completely do not remember him, but whatever. It’s always kinda nice to see old faces from old places

So after a few minutes we do the obligatory, “hey let’s exchange phone numbers and keep in touch” thing, but even though I gave him my phone number, I had absolutely no intention of ever contacting him. I’m busy. I got shit to do

Maybe a month later, I get a phone call and it’s the dude who I bumped into who knew me from high school. So in real time, it’s last week

We’re talking and I’m ready to hang up after about 30 seconds, but I don’t want to be rude so I let him keep talking and waited for the right moment to jump in and throw in an excuse to end the call

He’s going on and on and says, “I know you didn’t recognize me that day, but I was trying to talk to you and tell you something, but you seemed like you were in a rush…” and I’m thinking to myself, yeah, much like right now, and for some reason I get unusually blunt (in social settings I’m normally more patient and accommodating, but something felt off, and I really was busy)

Then he says, “I need to tell you something, but I …”

Long silence

Look, man, whatever it is just say it

“Thanks, I just never thought I’d … I want to get it off my … (long sigh)”

Just say it

“You won that election back in high school. I was one of the people counting the votes. You won. You won by a lot. We gave it to Bill”

……

#and i havent stopped thinking about it since last week #it feels like i *just now* lost something physically #a post about me #im not surprised but still #i feel silly for letting this bug me still

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wouldntyou-liketoknow · 4 months ago

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Comparing Killers

I sent an ask to my buddy @insane4fandoms a few days ago, and in their reply, they mentioned potentially doing a character analysis for both MadPat and my very own fanmade cannibal EgoPat Caliban in the future.

(This stemmed from one of their latest drawings. Again, thanks so much for remembering my scrunglies, friendo ❤️)

SO, being the way I am, I took some random inspiration and now I'm going through with that exact analysis myself! Just following my instincts as a writer and all that stuff.

___

MadPat:

Now, just to get this out of the way because I have a sneaking suspicion that someone’s gonna read this and automatically assume I’m being stuck-up: I really like Mad as a character. Matt has done an amazing job portraying him. . .though, Matt just has a knack for unhinged characters in general, lol.

And thanks to Matt's acting skills, Mad is an enjoyable villain. He’s cluster of chaotic problems shaped like a man in his thirties, and we all love him for it. (Honestly, I kinda see Mad’s behavior as similar to that of The Actor from all of Mark’s projects. Comedically evil with a tendency to throw tantrums when things don’t go his way.)

The FNAF Musicals have made many slight tweaks to the lore of the games to not completely plagiarize the story. So, of course, Mad is a slightly-tweaked version of William Afton: it’s made very clear that his crimes include murdering kids. On top of that, he has no problem playing long-cons with pizzeria employees before eventually killing them, too.

We’ve seen plenty of times that Mad is pretty much never afraid to get violent. Oh sure, he tries to put a mask on when he needs to, but it’s easy to see all his urges beneath that mask. (And again, much like Actor!Mark, Mad ain’t too shy about being callous and hostile to almost everyone around him.) He’s very quick to anger. To make things worse, he’s also quick to desperation.

While Mad is too smart for everyone else’s good, he’s still pretty damn impulsive/irresponsible. His crimes were all concentrated on the pizzeria; it didn’t take very long at all for the disappearances to pile up and gain unwanted attention. Now, a bunch of missing-person-cases are one thing, but leaving evidence is quite another.

Hell, in the beginning scene of Web of Lies, the wacko-in-a-bearsuit himself literally said, “Every INCH of this place is INCRIMINATING! Ten minutes of poking around this place and they’ll discover what I did. . !”

If Mad were to hear of Caliban's work, he'd probably be impressed at first and automatically assume that Caliban is just like him, just with more people-eating. However, if Mad were to actually meet Caliban and get a better read on his personality, Mad would likely end up insulting him one way or another. He'd see Caliban's professionalism as tedious.

___

Caliban Crawford:

Though I've made it pretty obvious that he's my special boi, Caliban is an objectively bad person. He may be insane, but he’s not delusional enough to deny that. Whenever his and/or Murdock's targets happen to be alive when they’re dragged to his den, he can be very, VERY sadistic throughout the butchering process. (Especially if the target has done something to personally affect him, Azalea, or any of his other peers.)

Sure, he doesn’t complain about working with dead bodies, but having a live meal is quite a special occasion. In such cases, he enjoys watching the unfortunate soul in question squirm and listening to them scream/beg. Taunting, dragging things out, making morbid puns all over the place, the works.

Despite all this, I’ve specifically crafted Caliban to be an extremely morally-gray character. (To be honest, the only fanmade ego of mine who’s full-on evil is LeviathanPat.) He’s still able to be logical/rational when he needs to. He takes pride in his self-control; yes, he has cravings for human flesh, but he knows he can’t afford to just attack any person he sees whenever he gets hungry. He knows he has to be EXTREMELY CAREFUL in order to keep his business away from the authorities. So, he only eats those he and his peers (Murdock, Azalea, etc.) are hired/paid to bump off.

On top of that, Caliban still has some humanity left. While he’s obviously nowhere close to a perfect angel, he’s still able to form genuine relationships and treat those in his circle with kindness/respect. Get on his good side, and you'll have quite a strong ally.

Though his morals are limited, one of the biggest differences between him and Mad is the fact that Caliban would never, NEVER stoop so low as to harm a child. In fact, he tends to avoid children altogether due to his own childhood trauma. (Totally not me projecting because I grew up in a dysfunctional family with verbal/emotional/psychological abuse.)

Getting back to the juicy stuff: Caliban is smart and efficient with his work. He prides himself on not leaving any evidence behind. (Yes, he still makes occasional mistakes, but even then, the aforementioned evidence still comes in very tiny amounts.) That's why he and Murdock became friends and started working together in the first place: since Caliban divides up which parts can be cooked/eaten and which parts can be sold on the Black Market, it really is easy for targets to just seemingly vanish into thin air.

Though my stories involving Caliban probably show him acting calm (despite his pun-addiction, lol), please, PLEASE don't be fooled. He's got just as much unhinged energy as Mad. He just happens to hide it a bit more often. But he definitely has his chaotic moments; half of the time it's out of unhinged joy, and the other half of the time it's because an enemy pissed him off enough to get their skin privileges revoked. (Basically, it's not that much of a stretch to see Caliban as a combination of The Hermit and Mack.)

Now, if you've seen @insane4fandoms artwork of him, then it's pretty clear that some inspiration was taken from Hannibal Lecter. And while I definitely appreciate references like that. . .well, that inspiration is mainly just for Caliban's appearance. I've said before that Caliban is nowhere near as arrogant as Hannibal. Even so, if Caliban were to see/hear about all of Mad's shenanigans, he'd write Mad off as being sloppy and unimpressive. If he were to actually meet Mad, his opinion would just get worse; he'd see Mad as a fair bit annoying and bratty.

___

@sammys-magical-au @b-is-in-the-closet @im-a-weird0 @themarpsimp @lexusinsannus @crazy-obsessed-enby @rozeliyawashereyall @gaymingintrovert @lampsforsocks @forestcouncil @x-hotrose-x @v1rus-seal

#my writing #insane4fandoms #friendship #my fanegos #fanmade egos #caliban #caliban the cannibal #madpat #aftonpat #matpat #egopats #matthew patrick

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reina-tries-2-write · 2 months ago

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The Space Between Sounds

Chapter 7: The Library

SYNOPSIS: Toge catches you in the library one day and the two of you begin to have study sessions regularly, getting to know the other a bit better.

WC: 1.7K

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The classwork wasn’t like you expected it to be and your struggles didn’t get any easier as time passed. If anything, it just got harder the more material you missed. You didn’t have an interpreter or friends to take notes for you like you did back in high school which made everything harder. Gojo did his best to make sure you were understanding everything but had a tendency to turn his back to you while he was still speaking so you couldn’t read his lips.

You found yourself spending a lot of time in the library, relying heavily on your textbooks that you actually purchased so you could write in them. You annotated the shit out of every single page you read over and did your best to fill in the gaps in your notes.

It was pleasantly quiet there too and you would even come to decompress sometimes, taking the occasional nap in a study room or just watching things on your laptop. It was a nice space for you to get away from all the noise of campus and really focus on something.

On occasion you would see Toge in the library with you, doing his own studying. The two of you wouldn’t interact but he would give you a quick smile and wave in greeting.

Except that changed today.

You were in your usual spot, working intently on your notes and textbook annotations when you saw Toge walk in. He gave you his usual smile and wave but instead of going off to his spot, he came over and sat down across from you.

You gave him a particularly wide smile, happy to have him around and to let him know he was welcome to sit with you. He looks down at your open textbook that is now bright and colorful due to the highlighting and sticky notes plastered all over it, before he pulled out his phone and typed to you as always, turning it around for you to read.

—You’re certainly dedicated—

—I try. Kinda gotta teach myself some of the stuff—

—Wym?—

—Gojo turns his back a lot when he teaches so I don’t catch everything he says. Gotta fill in the gaps—

—He turns his back a ton! Why haven’t you said anything?—

—I dunno. Used to teaching myself stuff I guess—

—Well if you ever need notes, I got you—

—Thanks. I appreciate that—

—Ofc. Whatchya workin on?—

You turn your textbook around to show him the page and he nods as he scans the text.

—You mind if I join? I kinda need to work on that too—

You nod and give him a thumbs up before you pat the space on the table next to you, indicating to him to come sit next to you so you can share the textbook.

He moves seats and pulls out his own notebook, reading over your annotations in you book and comparing them to his notes.

—Maybe I need to get notes from you. This is really good—

—You’re welcome to study with me anytime you want—

—I might take you up on that—

—Well you can come join anytime you see me or come get me from my room—

—I actually wanted to ask you about that. I know I can’t exactly knock so how do I get your attention through the door?—

—Oh, I probably should have explained this to everyone. I leave my door unlocked so you can just crack it open and flick the lights a few times until I come over. But if there’s an emergency, you can literally just barge in lol. I’m thinking about getting a light doorbell for you guys to use though—

—That’s honestly pretty genius. I’ll do that if I need ya—

—Thx. Gotta find workarounds yk?—

—I’m genuinely impressed, I’ll give you that—

—Well thx. Is there anything else you wanna work on or just whatever after this?—

—Whatever you need to work on—

—Works for me. Lmk if you can’t read my handwriting lol—

He gives you a thumbs up and the two of you begin to study, typing back and forth when necessary but mostly getting by on pointing to words or scrawling something down on sticky note.

*****************************************

I had noticed Y/N spending a lot of time in the library in our down time and I pieced together that she was probably struggling with the classwork still. I didn’t really want to interrupt her studying but I still wanted to let her know I was here outside of training too.

So I sat down across from her today and she offered to let me study with her. I originally thought I would be helping her most of the time but her notes and textbook annotations were extremely thorough and she ended up teaching me just as much as I taught her. I helped her fill in the gaps in her notes and she helped me with fully understanding some theoretical concepts. Those were pretty difficult for me. I’m a pretty hands on, practical kinda guy and theory is out of my grasp sometimes.

But she was patient with me, as much as I had been with her, and she was actually really good at teaching without needing to use words. Sure we were scribbling things down on sticky notes to communicate but most of her teaching was pointing and showing me her notes.

I loved how proud she looked when I actually grasped a concept, particularly if I had really been struggling with it. She seemed more than happy to help me and I realized this might be her way of paying me back for training so to speak. Like it felt more equal to her.

I benefited from our study session and it began to be a regular thing with us, mostly on weekends but I’d catch her on the occasional weekday if I was really confused about something or she was particularly lost.

I found myself really looking forward to our study sessions and she made the classwork actually enjoyable which was a welcome difference for me. Along with looking forward to spending time with her, I noticed she seemed to be getting more comfortable with physical touch. Sure she relied on it but that didn’t mean she liked it. I understood that much.

But over time, my heart would start to race when our fingers touched or her gaze lingered. I’d honestly get a little flustered, very unusual for me, when she’d give me certain expressions. Pride, understanding, thanks. She started to be more expressive around me which I loved.

****************************************

After getting through all the material you could manage today, you typed a bit with Toge for some decompression time.

—Oh, btw, can I get ur number so we don’t have to share a phone to type on lol—

—Ofc! 987-654-3210—

You handed him his phone back, your fingers brushing across the other’s, and pulled yours out, ready for his text and to save his number.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TOGE:

Hey! thx, this is so much easier lol

YOU:

def lol

TOGE:

so, tell me more abt u

YOU:

well, whatchya wanna kno?

TOGE:

i dunno. like what ur life was like before here?

YOU:

pretty boring ngl. I have like two whole friends and that’s abt it. and as much as I love them, I’m a third wheel lol. but they’re cute together so idc

TOGE:

oof lol

YOU:

yeahhhh. tell me abt u

TOGE:

wellllll um, I never really had friends cause of the whole not talking thing and not going to public school but everyone here is nice and it’s a good change of pace for me.

YOU:

glad to hear that. sry we gotta type all the gd time btw. its better than nothing tho

TOGE:

dw, I’m super used to it.

YOU:

same unfortunately. I hate it tbh. just feels really impersonal yk?

TOGE:

I def get that. like where’s the tone and expression and everything?

YOU:

right?! like u mad or just being simple or fast or smthn?

TOGE:

Ik! hate that shit. at least I can convey tone and shit with onigiri ingredients but it still doesn’t work very well hence the gesturing which im sure u get

YOU:

for sure lol. I’m just glad I learned to read lips otherwise I’d be fucked

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The two of you end up spending quite a lot of time in the library, texting back and forth and having a generally good time.

This became a routine pretty quickly and the two of you would compare notes in the library on Sunday’s to make sure you were studying the right material and that he was fully understanding it.

Your grades started to improve thanks to Toge filling in the gaps for you and you were actually pretty proud of your improvements so far.

In exchange for the study sessions, he started bringing lunch for the two of you. You felt a little bad since he was helping you just as much as you were helping him but he insisted it was fine and that he wanted to. Most of the time it was onigiri unsurprisingly but they were always really good so you had no complaints.

You really liked your weekly study sessions with him and slowly getting to know him a bit better but you really disliked having to type. You weren’t the biggest fan of it in general, particularly when you were talking to someone new. It just felt really impersonal even though it was the most practical way for you to communicate aside from sign. You obviously preferred sign but you never asked anyone to learn the language and you never used it around people who wouldn’t understand. What was the point? Plus it just made you stick out even more.

Unfortunately it was the only way for you and Toge to communicate so you obviously still typed to him but you did your best to hide your occasional frustrations. Words on a screen could only say so much you know?

You still enjoyed communicating with him however you could though so it wasn’t as bad as it was with most people. You really love talking to him.

#jjk #toge inumaki #inumaki toge #jjk x y/n #toge x reader #toge x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #deaf!reader #deaf #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen

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everyonewooeverywhere · 4 months ago

Note

Good morning babygirl 💗💗💗

(This is him when you two walk home from classes together, stop at a park, and end up going to your dorm to play animal crossing together)

How was your day lovely?

good morning my love 💗💗

(and then he takes you out the next day)

my day was ok! i obviously finished the tapestry~ and i spent most of my day doing that honestly 😭 i also played “dress to impress” for about an hour as well.

and then my friend asked if i wanted to hang out so we made a quick little target run together and that was nice because i ran out of the cold brew i like. overall a pretty decent day.

still pretty stressed about my grandpa and kinda bracing myself at this point, but i’m trying to also enjoy the rest of my summer as well (like planning my birthday next week 😊)

how are you my love?? 💗

#⋆.ೃ࿔*✉️:･ just chatting #·˚ ༘ 🤍✧.* moots : kiki

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nyaagolor · 1 year ago

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How would you rank all the Ace Attorney games you’ve played from favorite to least favorite? You seemed to enjoy all of them, to varying degrees.

So this is actually kind of hard for me to answer depending on whether you base your metric on “how much fun were they to play” “how much do I think to explore the themes / writing / think about the game in general” or “how well written do you think they are”. I’m gonna do all of them and prolly talk a lot so yeehaw. Under the cut bc. surprise surprise! I got long winded

Quick disclaimer: Not including DLC cases or spin off games because if I did we’d be here all day

“How much fun did I have playing through the actual game”

Phoenix Wright Ace Attorney

Trials and Tribulations

Apollo Justice Ace Attorney

Justice for All

Dual Destinies

Spirit of Justice

This might be kinda surprising to some people considering what I talk about on this blog, but honestly my opinions on these games changed drastically after I had time to ruminate on them. Here’s some explanations if you’re curious!

AA1 very well could be at the top because it was the first game in the series and I was going in fresh— while Turnabout Samurai was a bit of a slog, I managed to get through all of these cases in a day each and just could not put down Turnabout Goodbyes. I don’t think about it as much anymore because it was so foundational and all the things it introduced have been explored by other games, but this game really is the reason I fell into this series with such ferocity.

AA3 was much of the same, and I don’t think I had as much fun with a tutorial case as I did with Turnabout Beginnings. The characterization present in this games and the nonlinearity of the narrative is genuinely fantastic, and my opinion of it has only increased over time.

AA4 is ranked a little lower because I actually wasn’t vibing with the game when I first played it— it was only after Turnabout Succession that everything fell into place and the game skyrocketed up my favorites list. Once I’m finished with all the spinoffs and have some time to chill I actually plan on revisiting it with fresh eyes because I think a second playthrough has the potential to be soooo much better than the first. Also APOLLOOOOOOO he’s my little guy :)

I thought justice for all was fine, but boring. Big Top made me feel some emotions that were less than positive, but generally speaking all the cases were fine but didn’t leave a big impression on me. Also I don’t like Farewell My Turnabout nearly as much as other people— I still like it but it didn’t totally blow me away or anything. Game is still like an 8/10, but it didn’t leave a huge impression on me.

Dual Destinies was confusing as hell timeline wise and it made it kinda difficult to figure out what was even happening, and for that same reason I struggled to attach myself to the plot. The game had some moments that really were stellar but the sheer length and layout of the cases kinda made me wanna cry

I literally only finished this game so I could get to Investigations. Characters were great but it was so. Damn. long.

“How much do I like thinking about the games, its writing, and its themes”

Dual Destinies

Apollo Justice Ace Attorney

Trials and Tribulations

Phoenix Wright Ace Attorney

Spirit of Justice

Justice for All

This part of the list actually has very little to do with how good I think the games are or how much I like them, but sometimes a game’s themes just Captivate you.

If you’re reading this you’ve probably seen this blog, and you know how I feel about Dual Destinies. I am OBSESSED with this game. I love the characters, I love the themes, and I am fascinated by every part of the writing process and how the game ended up the way it did. I think about this game an unhealthy amount actually. Don’t let my complaining make you think I don’t love this game to pieces. Bc I do. So much.

I love expanding on things. The media I blog about? KIrby and Pokemon, stories that practically beg for you to fill in the gaps and work with their vagueness. So when Takumi handed me a game with half a dozen hanging plot threads and massive time gaps just begging to be filled? You can bet I would never shut the fuck up about it. AJAA my absolute beloved

I could probably talk about Miego for hours. This game is incredible I think about it on the regular. Ough.

This game slams but all the ideas introduced by it have been expanded on and talked about and worked with in a hundred different ways so it’s hard to me to really go back other than to say “wow Turnabout Goodbyes was so fucking good”

Literally the only context in which I think about this game is “this should have been a spinoff” but honestly it barely crosses my mind except when I purposefully try to ignore it

JFA is good and makes me feel absolutely nothing

“How well-written do I think the games are”

Phoenix Wright Ace Attorney

Trials and Tribulations

Apollo Justice Ace Attorney

Justice for All

Spirit of Justice

Dual Destinies

These are suuuuuper close so this list is a lil shakier than the others but explanations are below as usual!

Ok this is really REALLY tough because I think AA1 and AA3 are tied. They both have their moments and I think the themes are incredible, but for the purposes of this list I’m putting AA1 above AA3 because BttT is a little bit absolutely batshit insane? Turnabout Goodbyes is TIGHT. Sorry Godot you’re still my favorite prosecutor ily kitten

See above

I’ve never seen an AA game whose final cases elevates the entire game quite like AA4. I thought the game was good, but the Turnabout Succession hit and oh my GOD. I think about this game constantly it’s so, SO good. Also helps that Apollo really shakes up the series, he’s my favorite species of insect

These cases were fine, Franziska is a solid prosecutor, the whole “chooses death” thing was fresh, and Farewell was some of the best character writing this series has seen. I don’t honestly have much to even say about it bc it’s super solid

The difference between DD and SOJ is that I think DD had a really good story that it failed to tell effectively while SOJ succeeded in telling its story but that story fucking sucks. Jokes aside I don’t like SOJ but the story is cohesive at least. It had a plot. It was Fine. DD failed miserably but oh my god what you could have been. Ily. Mwah.

See above

Sorry this wasn’t a clear ranking / favorites list, hope you enjoyed regardless!!

#mod vex #ask #ace attorney #heheheeee I love AA asks I love talking about it

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kolbisneat · 11 months ago

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MONTHLY MEDIA: December 2023

And so the year draws to a close! Big movie month and hoping to carry that over into the new year.

……….FILM……….

Turning Red (2022) Late to the game on this but it’s so great! When they talk about the ritual and that the words to the music don’t matter, I knew it was gonna lead to 4*Town playing a key role, but what they did on top of that was a genuine surprise and what takes this to the next level: they embrace the obvious setups but add an extra twist to the payoffs. So great.

The Fate of the Furious (2017) Okay I really love the idea of evil Dom so this movie moooooostly works. I’m still getting caught up on the series but even knowing that Han is alive, it’s still baffling that Shaw is embraced by the crew. He killed that whole hospital wing!

Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone (2001) These are of course Christmas films and I’ve noticed a transition in myself having not seen them for many years. I once liked the earlier movies for how faithful they were to recreating the books, but I now see how that the accuracy is at the expense of the movie’s pacing. Still really impressed with how well cast the core trio is even at this age.

The Santa Clause (1994) Nostalgia overwhelms my perspective on this but, as far as I can tell, this holds up pretty well. Starting Scott off as just...kinda the worst makes his transition all the better and I think is where Tim Allen is at his best. Plus a lot of really great sight gags which I don’t really see anymore (like the Denny’s full of sad dads).

Confess, Fletch (2022) Fun and the sort of movie I wish got made more often. Not all of the humour really landed but the characters were engaging and the mystery lead to a lot of fun. Perfectly decent rainy day watch.

The Night Before (2015) A lot of ups and downs with this one. At it’s best it’s very funny but when it slows down it really grinds to a halt. I wonder if the hangover movies have the same challenge. Also 100% thought the steroid injection was insulin.

Frosty the Snowman (1969) and Santa Claus is Comin' to Town (1970) Two Rankin Bass classics that really highlight the best that this production company could do.

No Hard Feelings (2023) and Easy A (2010) The former was a pretty fun comedy that didn’t have a lot of comedy and the later was a comedy that I remember loving when it came out but not really connecting upon rewatch. Would I still recommend both? I think so, but only lightly.

……….TELEVISION……….

Blue Eye Samurai (Episode 1.01 to 1.04) A good chunk into the season and really digging it. The characters are rich and layered and the show is doing a good job of exploring those layers in an engaging story. Plus the setting/time period allows for a lot of really great visuals. Definitely making the most out of the premise and stoked for the rest of the season.

Poker Face (Episode 1.08 to 1.10) Such a satisfying series. The majority of the episodes stand on their own but the bigger picture occasionally pops up, until the end of the season where it becomes the main focus. Just like TV used to be! Really beautiful wardrobe and set design, all the actors seem to be having a great time, and each episode feels thoroughly realized. Big fan can’t recommend enough.

Scott Pilgrim Takes Off (Episode 1.07 to 1.08) Came into it expecting something else and it’s gonna take some time to adjust to what it was. Gotta rewatch but really no complaints!

……….YOUTUBE……….

Plagiarism and You(Tube) by hbomberguy Yes I did watch a 4 hour video on plagiarism and you should too. VIDEO

when the director is overqualified for the job by CinemaStix I never really considered how similar the early Harry Potter movies but it all makes sense. VIDEO

Stop Taking ANY Advice From TikTok by Extranet Shaquille A quick and light reminder that social media isn’t worried about truth or accuracy in any way. VIDEO

The Marvelization of Cinema by Stories of Old This succinctly explains (to me, at least) why some modern remakes/sequels/reimaginings land and some don’t. In short you gotta ask if it’s purpose is to tell a story or maintain a brand. VIDEO

……….READING……….

There is a Tide aka Taken at the Flood by Agatha Christie (Page 122 of 224) Picked up a bunch of old Agatha Christie books at a thrift store (partly because of the cool covers, partly cause I like mystery as a genre but never read it). Turns out this is EXACTLY what I needed right now. It’s been a while since I was this stoked to keep going with a story and this specific story feels like a great influence on the first Knives Out movie in that it’s centred around a lot of family drama vying for control of a deceased benefactor’s money. So stoked and gonna grab more of these when I can. Hey do you have old DELL copies of Christie novels you don’t want? Lemme know.

Tiger in the Stars by Zach Hughes (Complete) Okay so I picked this up while thrifting. There were DOZENS of these Laser Books and figured I’d try one and see what they were like. Turns out...not that great. Some fun ideas but moved at a snail’s pace and felt like there was a lot of padding. Something like this feels like a Goosebumps book (short, quick output, somewhat formulaic) but in comparison, I think I’d prefer R. L. Stein.

Delicious in Dungeon Vol. 2 by Ryoko Kui (Complete) Again rereading as the series draws to a close and it’s still such a joy. These characters are fully formed right from the beginning and it’s such a good study in dramatic escalation as right now it still feels light and fun and I love it.

The Michael Moorcock Library: The Chronicles of Corum Vol. 1: The Knight of Swords by Mike Baron, Mike Mignola, Rick Burchett, & Kelly Jones (Complete) Love these illustrated retellings of the old pulp fantasy novels. Sometimes the limited page count leads to pacing that feels rushed and a scale that feels smaller than the grandiosity of the subject matter, but every adaptation requires sacrifice. Gonna keep going with this series and also try to find the original books!

……….AUDIO……….

Cold & Blue All Over (Demo) by Blue Freezie (2023) A little punk, a little surf rock, a little rockabilly, and all a good time. Big fan of this album and hoping there’s more to come.

……….GAMING……….

Neverland: A Fantasy Role-Playing Setting (Andrews McMeel Publishing) The Tuesday D&D crew is back in Neverland and sorting out this Elf problem! They’ve killed one and are on their way to killing some more. It’s more nuanced than that and you can read all about it here.

Oz: A Fantasy Role-Playing Setting (Andrews McMeel Publishing) The Mof1 D&D crew just robbed a funeral and started a riot! Who knows what’s gonna happen next.

And that’s it. See you in January!

#Monthly Media #Kolbisneat #Andrew Kolb

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ofmermaidstories · 1 year ago

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I totally agree with you on not liking the current, "you must reblog or don't read it" mentality. While it's great to support fanfic writers if you're comfortable with it, there are a lot of reasons why someone may not feel comfortable reblogging a particular fic (for me personally my social anxiety sometimes gets the best of me and I simply cannot handle the idea of being perceived). I think the problem comes when people don't interact with fics and then start to ask for more content from the author (which I suspect is only a few people but it's enough to give some writers a really bad impression). I used to write for a very small fandom and even I had several experiences of people asking for part 2s or updates when the original fic had very little interaction and I was most definitely not a request blog. I've personally never written fanfiction to get comments but stuff like that made me feel used and I even had one interaction that toed the line of emotional blackmail and put me off writing for that fandom altogether so I can definitely see why some authors end up so jaded that they block anyone who doesn't interact positively (even if it's not something I really agree with). So yeah, I really don't think there's anything wrong with genuine lurkers but I fear sadly they've been given a bad name by the few people who do treat fanfic authors as content machines.

Anyway, I hope I haven't rambled too much and that you're having a good day Merms!

Oh yeah, absolutely!!! Like, true entitlement is such a problem that genuine lurkers are getting murked for; which is unfair because it makes a scapegoat out of them and doesn’t solve the real problem at all. And I say “true entitlement” because there’s a difference between a comment that’s like, “will there be a part 2? 🥺” and “part 2” LOL, which is my personal pet peeve, like—what happened to hi?? hello??? how are you??? 💀 I’m not a chat AI, you don’t get to input demands. 🤖📖🚫

Idk—I try not to be mean about even that, tho, because I suspect a lot of this behaviour is indicative of younger readers, but then it just circles back to the problem of like, how do we correct it on a community-wide scale? Because sure, entitlement like that might be coming from a younger reader, but it might just as easily be coming from an asshole LMAO. The only “quick” solution that I can see for it is directly addressing it when it happens. 🥺 And again I wanna emphasise that there’s a clear difference between a genuine enquiry and a throwaway demand!! Like, personally, I don’t mind people asking when I might update or whatnot, because I don’t hold myself to a schedule and my updates are haphazard. But if you’re a more structured and dependable writer (like andypants, for example!) then maybe it’s a different story idk idk. It’s literally case-by-case—which is how it should be, because we’re all individual people writing different things.

I’m sorry your other fandom experience was kinda soured for you though, Anon. 🥺 I would feel used too! I’ve actually come to really dislike writing generic, non-bigger-fic related drabbles because they’re always the pieces that attract the worst of the entitlement. 💀 I say that like it’s a plague of demands lmfao, it’s not, but it happens often enough that it’s noticeable—and I guess it’s just the nature of them being easily digestible without needing like 100k+ of backstory to get into it, but….. idk idk. It’s startling! 😦 And I think the only action we can take that’s even close to a solution is just gently addressing it whenever it pops up. 😔 Or blocking ig if that’s how u roll, LOL.

#ofmermaidstories-asks #the reblog thing—discourse #scheduled smeduled bc i am eebing snore snore snore 😴

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balcon1es · 2 years ago

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wip

The newest batch of recruits had that callous, definitely ex-military vibe Raph didn’t like.

The alliance told him to expect at least fifty-two men, but by the time they crossed the desert on foot they’d dwindled to twenty-seven, and didn’t seem too happy to know firsthand the rumors were true—that there was an occupied base three thousand miles south, where a fatal wind carved away time and memory, a no-man’s zone even the Kraang didn’t want.

That, and a mutant was leading it. And he was barely twenty; kid had a shell, was bald, and walked around with fingerless gloves and dual swords like someone’s kid from Comic-Con.

“Katana, to be specific,” Leo interrupted. Twenty-one grimy blonde heads turned. God; Raph was going to wring his neck. Normally Raph left his brother’s cringefail antics well alone, but these were not normal affairs. Now was not the time for another bad first impression.

Leo brandished his twin blades, like this was show and tell. “See?” The one in his right, he twirled towards the half-circle the men had formed. “So….” he began, pulling the vowel taut like taffy. One of the soldiers—couldn’t have been older than twenty himself—had a revolver pointed at his own head. He flinched when Leo addressed him; his legs quaked so badly Raph was surprised they couldn’t hear his bones rattling like toothpicks. “...What’s all this? Kinda culty, if I do say so myself. You know we don’t haze our rookies here, right?”

“What the fuck,” someone cried, “he’s green!”

“Uh, yeah.” Leo scratched his neck. “Thought we’d established the whole mutant situation by now. Hi? I go by Leo, Leon, Nardo, Big Blue. 6”1, black eyes—but a lovely hazel in the light—what else? I’m an Aquarius, surprisingly…” he trailed off.

A hulking man made his way towards them. Raph thought he looked like a Craig. Or something cool, like Scar. Either way, he made Raph stand up a little straighter. “You the chief?” he asked Leo.

“Nothing official yet,” Raph said in a rush.

“Yep,” Leo said, popping the P. “Looking at ‘im!”

Wordlessly, the man’s gaze darted between him and Raph. Then he turned, where twenty-seven men looked back stunned. Then twenty-seven men broke into laughter.

Raph felt his face go white-hot. Leo's face barely flickered.

quick wip from ch3 of my from scratch gdoc which is simultaneously haunting me and is haunted by me (<- fic writer avoiding their wips)

#sorry for the lack of fic i've been ridiculously busy with original stuff but #more fic soon hopefully dsfsf #ive got mutant mayhem on the brain its gonna power me THRU #rottmnt #bigdamnher0 #rottmnt fic #obsessed with thinking abt the resistance in its earlier stages & barely adult freshly grieving leo #LIKE that is the worst combination to have in one person #especially someone who's supposed to lead?? yeah he's Unwell

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madcatdaderpydrawer-blog · 2 years ago

Note

I’m not saying Swap Lunar didn’t snap and kill Swap Killcode. Swap Sun wouldn’t have moved out if Swap Lunar didn’t snap at him, unless he was the one who did it. But Swap Lunar definitely couldn’t have gone hunting for Swap Moon. Swap Eclipse and Swap Lunar both made it very clear that they were under the impression that Swap Moon was incredibly dead. Which means Swap Lunar never had reason to believe he was alive and hunt him down.

Which makes sense, because, from how Swap Lunar was acting, the DCAs do still have the same basic personalities, and our Killcode was a quick learner and much more subtle than our Bloodmoon, so Swap Killcode figuring out how to shapeshift quickly might not have been that strange.

This also makes sense because our Eclipse was the one who came up with the magic solution to the Killcode problem, so Swap Eclipse coming up with the same solution to Swap Bloodmoon on his own, or helped by Swap Moon pretending to be Swap Computer, isn’t that different.

Swap Moon doing similar things to our Eclipse in spite of the same base personality as ours also makes sense, because our Eclipse was our Moon at one point, before all the isolation and trauma and absorbing Sun’s repressed emotions. So, Swap Moon turning out the similar under the same conditions makes sense.

Ah so you’re saying he killed swap killcode and snapped at swap sun but didn’t go on the rampage. That would make a bit more sense ig, idk it’s all kinda confusing. I’m generally just assuming due to the parallels that things went the same in that dimension except swap moon hasn’t taken the star yet to save myself the headache.

#sams au #sams spoilers

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tessbev · 10 months ago

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Okay!

It’s been awhile!!! I’ll just jump straight into it. I got sick while on the boat and even though it was only a 24 hour thing it stuck with me longer than expecting. It seemed to just be a bout of gastrointestinal something but I was having issues up until this past week and was feeling pretty off for over a full week. I’m feeling back to normal now. Luckily I had my bad day on an overcast day on the boat. I had the air conditioned room to myself and a nice big bed to pass away in. The next day we were leaving Hanoi and flying to da nang. We rented an airbnb in between da nang and hoi an for 4 nights. Hoi an is basically the tailored clothing capital of the world. Having clothing made is kinda the thing to get done when you’re visiting because it’s so quick and such a cool process, I’ll run you through my/our experience with it.

It was about 1130am, it was a scorching day and there are tailor shops everywhere (just like the 7/11s in Thailand). Choosing a place was the first battle. I had heard of a couple places on the internet so I had some names in the back of my mind. One of them being “Yaly couture” sure enough we find it and go inside and are greeted instantly by a lady asking us what we’re looking for. Now I’ve been preparing for this for months so I had photos of things I’ve been wanting that were either super expensive or pictures of clothes I’d seen someone wear but couldn’t find. I showed the lady a picture and asked if she could make it and she said yes and took me right to the fabric wall to pick fabric. I was a little taken aback at how confident she was she could make the dress (I’ll post a picture) but I went with it. At this point Jenna and gabi decided to check out another tailor spot we had heard of because they hadn’t seen any patterns they were too keen on and it was the first place we went into so they wanted to shop around a bit. The shop seemed impressive enough to me and the lady (her name was Melinda, we became close) asked what else I was looking for. Sure enough I show her everything and she takes me through all the different materials and patterns I can choose. Once the hard part of deciding fabric was done she sat me down and I sent her all the photo references for each piece. She drew out the pieces and we talked about the fit, the length, the waist band thickness, zipper no zipper, pockets etc etc she covered everything. Then she measured every thing she needed, wrote it all down and told me to come back at 430 to try it all on. The same day. Under 5 hours to have it made I was gobsmacked. Feeling euphoric and like I had drank 16 cups of coffee I strolled to meet up with the girls who had found another shop to get things made. And wow what a difference in shops. It was utter chaos. First off it was huge. Massive. Like a warehouse and there were people yelling over each other in Vietnamese there were thousands of materials and the girls were in a fluster bartering and figuring out patterns. The place I had gone didn’t have one of the patterns I had wanted for a skirt so I thought I’d get one thing made here and all I can say is it was so chaotic. Especially coming from yaly couture where it was so composed and tranquil. Anyway I joined in the chaos and got my measurements taken and picked out a pattern after the woman was barking at me to hurry up lol. After we left that place the girls were super on edge and stressed out and didn’t feel like they got what they were after so I brought them right back to my girl Melinda. She greeted me with a nice smile asking if I wanted more and I told her I brought my two friends because my experience had been so lovely so far. Sure enough they too were given a much more enjoyable experience and were also on the shopping high I was riding. Then Nick and Paige met up with us because they had spent the morning securing us scooters. Neither of them were too fussed about getting clothes made but they felt our buzzing energy and I told them how cool the experience was for us and they had to do it. So I brought them back to Melinda who was overjoyed with the extra business. Nick really wanted a suit made and it was so fun picking out the fabric and the lining and watching him actually enjoy shopping. By the end of it he was kicking himself that he didn’t get more because everything turned out incredible but we’ll get to that I’m getting ahead of myself.

We went and got lunch while our clothes were made and did a bit more street shopping. Vietnam is so affordable and everyone is willing to barter so you can get things for such a steal. I miss Vietnam already.

430 rolls around and we go back for our first fitting. Everything needed a slight adjustment but the fact the clothing was done was mind blowing. Same thing for the chaotic place too, but I’m gonna focus more on Yaly lol. We came back a bit later in the evening for a second fitting and any final tweeks before we could pick it up tomorrow. Everyone was ecstatic and in awe of how beautiful the clothing was and how quick!!

Quick sidebar about the pricing. Here it was fair, it wasnt “cheap” or standard Vietnam prices but it was way less than you’d get from home or buying in store and it was tailored to all our bodies so 100% worth it. From yaly I got a formal long dress, a short skirt, a short skirt and tank top set and a long skirt and matching top. Before I tell you the price I want to preface that the dress I showed a photo of was 450 USD from the store. And everything all together was 320 USD. From the other store the skirt I got (she actually convinced me to get a matching tank top cause I’m weak) was 75 Canadian. I may have also gotten a couple leather bags and a duffle bag to die for because I needed extra space for all the clothes!! And when you see the bags you’re gonna be shocked I got for 150 Canadian. Did I blow my entire Vietnam budget in one day? Yes. Would I do it again? Yes. We have been so under budget throughout Thailand and Vietnam so really i just evened it all out.

We all came back the next day for our final fitting, had some lunch and then got to pick up everything a few hours later. Melinda gave me a couple hugs and because she has all my measurements she told me I can message her from home with clothing orders and she can mail it to me now that she has my measurements. Like what?! That is the coolest thing ever I can get tailored made clothing from Vietnam and I don’t even need to be in Vietnam. Mind blowing. If ever I were to win the lottery and say I’m getting married one day I’m bringing my whole family and whole bridal party to Melinda and we’re all getting gowns and suits made and spending a week in Hoi An. If you’re reading this that includes you.

Okay here are the reference pictures for the styles

And here are the results (I haven’t tried the blue one on again since my final fitting because it was SO hot and sweaty trying to get it on and I haven’t wanted to go through that again. Also they packed them up so nicely individually into little bags so I didn’t wanna unwrap it but this is a screenshot from a video)

(The red and blue flowery one is the one from the chaotic hectic place)

This is my baby duffle

And this is my favourite of them all

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themostop · 1 year ago

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Y’know, the really fun thing about “AI”s like ChatGPT is that they’re free, easily accessible, and interactive. Like, I’ve had a lot of fun messing around with them and writing stories with them, but I wouldn’t really want to share most of the stuff I’ve made because a lot of it is just wish fulfillment/fan fiction stuff that I know I’m not gonna get anywhere else. And even then I end up having to just mentally ignore a lot of what the ai writes anyway. I basically just use it either to flesh out a few story ideas I have, write something quick but stupid to get it out of my head, or just have it do a bit of the leg work of getting started writing something when I’m too lazy to start writing myself. But none of its really that good. What I’m trying to say is, I wouldn’t want to pay money for it, at least not the price of movie ticket or streaming service subscription. Maybe, like, ten dollars fifteen tops if it had a lot of cool features. But even then, the fun comes from being able to push the story in whatever direction you want. It’s like if your action figures could move on their own, but just a little bit. I certainly wouldn’t want to pay money to see what someone else wrote with ai. Like, it’s already just okay and kinda cool, but the main appeal to me at least is being able to interact with it and make the story go the way I want it to go. If you take that away, why the heck would I pay money for it? Even if the ai improves and the quality of the writing goes up… it’s just not impressive. Like, I’d know (hopefully if we can get some proper laws and regulations in place) if it was written by ai that it didn’t cost that much time or money to produce. So why would I ever pay any amount of money to see it. At least when I go to see a Disney movie or watch a Netflix show I know there were some people who worked hard on it and my money is going to them. (Yeah yeah, I know a lot ends up in the higher ups pockets, but do you at least get the point I’m trying to make?)

The few times I do enjoy seeing what other people make with ai, like on YouTube and stuff, it’s with the older models that aren’t as good. The entertainment comes from how bad it is. And I still wouldn’t want to pay money for it. I’m only enjoying it because it’s free.

The point I’m trying to get at here is that even if movie and television companies tried to replace their writers with ai… why would we have any reason to support them. The biggest reason not to pirate something is so that the people who worked hard on it get paid, but if barely anyone worked on it and the work that was done was minimal… why bother paying for it? My real worry is that companies will start making ai written stuff but not say it’s ai written and then sell it at full price. But I hope people would still quickly notice something wrong with the credits or the money balancing or something, you know? And then people just would stop trusting companies. And besides, why go see Disney’s ai written remake of frozen 2 with deep faked cgi humans played by text-to-speech… when you can already make that yourself and better yet have it play out the way you want it to? Or even better, watch the free version someone uploaded to YouTube that’s written by someone who’s not afraid to write it for a queer audience.

I think the best way for a company to make a product out of ai that they can actually sell would be to make sort of curated ais that have been trained on a ton of works that all take place in the same fantasy/sci-fi realm and then you can write any story you want within that world. That might be something I’m will to pay a bit for. But even then, you’d still need writers to make all the works it’s trained on.

Now all of this is naturally assuming we get laws and regulations in place regarding ai. If something is made by ai, it should need to be stated clearly and plainly. AIs like Open AI’s ChatGPT should stay free for everyone. YOU SHOULD NEED TO GET PERMISSION TO USE SOMEONE’S WORK TO TRAIN AN AI AND YOU SHOULD HAVE TO PAY THEM FOR IT. And a lot of this (from what I understand) is part of what the writer’s strike is about. I’m only throwing this on in case you somehow thought I was saying that I think the writers strike is for nothing. I don’t think that. I fully support the writers strike. The point of this post is just to call out how unprofitable ai should be for companies. The only way they’re gonna be able to make money off of it is if they trick you into thinking it’s worth the same prices or more than a non-ai movie (don’t fall for it) sell lots of them at a cheep but still marked up price (once again, don’t fall for it. Think about who your money would even be going to), or the force you with no other options but to buy things that way because they make ai no longer publicly accessible and make it so that and independent writers can’t compete with their prices (don’t let them. Support indis if you can, pirate if you can’t.)

So yeah, I just don’t see how companies plan on profiting from ai when the largest appeal of it is it’s freedom both in terms of price and use. (Once again, unless they “cheat.”)

#long post #long post tw #ai #writers strike #ai writing #cw controversial topics

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belabellissima · 11 months ago

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OKAY I"M HOMEEEE IM SO READY TO READ THIS

🌌 I had this whole spiel planned about how I was a mastermind who assigned myself as your secret santa as part of an elaborate scheme to seduce you into being my friend, but actually I think between us you might be the mastermind???

💭 WHAT IF I TOLD YOU NONE OF IT WAS ACCIDENTAL????? We really were both playing 4D chess with each other to make friends 😂

ngl though actually going back and rereading all the secret santa messages I can totally tell its you now... like it sounds like your online voice and im kinda like How did I not pick up on this?????? Also not me throwing hints that I had an anonymous fic in one of my responses to you (I was literally like.... don't be suspicious.... don't be suspicious... you can say you've written a modern fic but don't elaborate....)

🌌 And while she might have been foolish enough to stray closer to the Wall, even she understood there was no chance of besting a wolf in the dark. Or, gods-forbid, one of the faeries that lived in the Northern parts of their land.

💭 The double meaning here though!!!! Northern could be both spring which is just… north, Or it could be the ✨ Night Court!!!!! ✨

🌌 Mesmerizing—the lethal, gentle beauty of the snow. She should hate it, but maybe that would feel too close to hating herself.

💭 The quick 180 this hit me with emotionally, going from beautiful imagery to sobbing 😭🥺

🌌 Her fingers trembled. So much food—such salvation.

💭 Me: it’s a serious scene and a tense moment, don’t laugh

Also me:

🌌 He was enormous. The village hunters had said as much about the wolves that prowled in the northern territory, had spoken of animals large as ponies with an unrivaled stealth. She’d assumed their stories were embellished. No animal that massive could be so quiet.

💭 Andras my love I adore you but also this is what I always imagine:

🌌 Yes, that instinctual voice agreed. The fae are dangerous. The fae are merciless. End him now and save your village from slaughter.

A prickling sensation along her back struck Feyre with a new fear—that he wasn’t alone. But she couldn’t hazard a glance over her shoulder to be sure, not without taking her eyes off the wolf.

💭 IS RHYS THERE COAXING HER???????? IM!!!!!!!!!

🌌 She stared at him until that coat of charcoal and obsidian and ivory ceased rising and falling.

💭 ☹️😭 rip andras you were a real one

🌌 And though nothing emerged from the trees on the other side of the clearing, she swore something in the vacant space stared back. Curious. Patient.

💭 Oh yeah Rhys is sooo there and already in love (unless….👀)

🌌 Fine. She slid her eyes past them dismissively, searching the crowd for unfamiliar faces, someone who might be inclined to buy a wolf hide. Like the tall, raven-haired man sitting on the lip of the broken square fountain, without any cart or stall, but looking like he was holding court nonetheless.

💭 HES HERE😍

🌌 He was handsome, ungodly so, and smiling to himself like he knew it.

💭 Of course he does girl!!!! He can hear you think it too! Also having Rhys be THE mercenary!!!!!! Galaxy brain take right there!!🤯

🌌 No,” Feyre said. “I’m just curious. I’ve never seen you here before.”

I would have noticed you, she thought.

💭 Rhys has to be so smug right now

🌌 As he contemplated her response, his gaze snagged on her arm and his smile faltered. “Are you a painter?”

💭Oh the way this made me feel like Amarantha sent him to find who killed the wolf and he was not expecting it to be his painter🥲

🌌 “I hail from Illyria,” he said. At her blank look, he added, “A tribe of people nestled in the steppes of a far-away mountain range.”

On the continent, she filled in.

💭 I love a good misdirect through omission it’s just so satisfying

🌌 Things look promising from where I’m sitting.” Was he… flirting with her?

💭 Leave it to Rhys to start flirting immediately😂 love that for him

🌌 Impressive kill, little huntress. You must be a good shot.”

“If I weren’t, I’d be dead.”

💭 AAAAYYYYYEEE THERES A LINE I KNOW!!!

🌌 She let him count, her mind far away while she plotted their different options of escape, including the scenarios where she had to drag her sisters kicking and screaming from their beds. It was preferable to a vengeful faerie doing the same.

💭 Oh the dramatic irony!!

🌌More of that wicked amusement spread over Rhys’s face. “Friend of yours?”

💭Isaac/Rhys interactions are always so fun!!!! Rhys trying trying so hard to be chill and not reveal jealousy, Isaac like “who tf are you???” Ahhhh 💯

Also Isaac saying he’s getting married only to be the one trying to stop Feyre meeting new people…. Side eye my guy

Also I’m sobbing bc this was where I fell asleep still reading😭 phone still in hand when I woke up, so close to the end, wondering why I couldn’t remember how it ended before I realized 🤦🏼‍♀️

🌌 And as she walked, she found herself thinking about Rhys, unflinching at the bite of winter. And how, for that short time she’d been drenched in the heat of his gaze, his eyes the first vibrant color she’d seen since winter had overtaken the village, she’d forgotten what it was to be cold.

💭🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

OKAY I FINISHED AND I LOVED IT HOLY SHIT IT WAS BEAUTIFUL RHYS WAS AMAZING FEYRE WAS HEARTBREAKING AND BRAVE AND I LOVE THEM BOTH AND YOU!!!!!!!!! THIS GIFT IS SO PERFECT 💝💝💝💝💝💝

We Bleed the Same - An ACOTAR retelling

The forest was a labyrinth of snow and ice... The beginning to a story we know, unfolded a little bit differently.

HO, HO, HOHMYGOD, plot twists upon plot twists! This is dedicated to my @acotargiftexchange giftee turned anon I've been secretly in love with for... years??? For @belabellissima I really hope you enjoy this, and I'm hoping my mastermind plan to seduce you worked now that we've both unveiled our secret identities

Read on AO3

The forest was a labyrinth of snow and ice.

Feyre had been monitoring the parameters of the thicket for the better part of an hour, but with the angle of the sun lowering past the horizon and the gusting wind blowing the tracks of any potential quarry, her vantage point in the crook of a tree branch had turned useless. Not that there was much quarry to begin with. For years, the hunters have been saying that the animals were pulling back, going deeper into the woods than most humans were willing to pursue. Even today, Feyre had ventured further than she usually risked.

She’d woken that morning to the sounds of her sisters’ growling stomachs, and she couldn’t bear meeting the hollow stare in Elain’s once bright eyes to tell her that they would spend another day without eating. Desperation had dragged her closer to the Wall than any human should dare—not just because of the faeries who lurked on the other side of the invisible barrier, but because she was now edging into wolf territory. The town hunters had warned her that they were on the prowl again in numbers. But Feyre reasoned that if the wolves hung near, it surely meant there was nearby prey to keep them fed. Unless wolf prey was the very thing she was becoming, delivering herself at their feet as she eased off the tree and stretched her stiff limbs with a restrained groan.

The icy snow crunched under her fraying boots. What little snowfall had melted already seeped through the worn leather, dampening her thin socks, but like many things, Feyre had long become numb to the cold. She wiped her ungloved fingers over her eyes, brushing away the flakes clinging to her lashes. In the woods, there wasn’t time to be cold or hungry. Even as exhaustion gnawed at her, she shoved it away, focusing on her surroundings, on the task ahead. That was all she could do, all she’d been able to do for years: focus on surviving the week, the day, the hour ahead.

Only a few hours of daylight remained. Given how deep Feyre had ventured, if she didn’t leave soon, she would have to navigate her way home in the dark. And while she might have been foolish enough to stray closer to the Wall, even she understood there was no chance of besting a wolf in the dark. Or, gods-forbid, one of the faeries that lived in the Northern parts of their land.

Whispers were becoming commonplace on market days—tales of strange folk spotted in the area, tall and eerie and deadly. Traveling peddlers had begun sharing accounts of distant border towns, left in splinters and cindered bones. In the eight years Feyre’s family had lived in the village, they’d never witnessed such an attack. But if a faerie did decide to soothe its immortal boredom by playing with one of the townsfolk, it would need to cross through these very woods to fulfill that whim, and Feyre would be the first to cross its path. Even so, she couldn’t go home. Not yet.

After a few minutes of careful searching, Feyre crouched in a cluster of snow-heavy brambles. Through the thorns, she had a half-decent view of a clearing and the small brook flowing through it. A few holes in the ice suggested it was still frequently used. Hopefully, something would come by. Hopefully.

Her family wouldn’t last another week without food. She wore that knowledge in the weight of the quiver looped over her back. Each of the arrows was a reminder that if she failed, if she missed or came home empty-handed, then Nesta or Elain or their injured father might not survive the winter. And she would break the promise she made to her mother all those years ago.

Feyre sighed through her nose and eased into a more comfortable position, calming her breathing as she strained to listen to the forest over the wind. The snow fell and fell, dancing and curling like sparkling spindrifts, the white fresh and clean against the brown and gray of the world. Once, it had been second nature to savor the contrast of new grass against the dark, tilled soil; once, she’d dreamed and breathed and thought in color and light and shape.

Feyre couldn’t remember the last time she’d done it—bothered to notice anything lovely or interesting. Stolen hours in a decrepit barn with Isaac Hale didn’t count; those times were hungry and empty and sometimes cruel, but never lovely. She went into the barn to forget, to lose herself for a few hours in the feeling of another living, breathing being. To remind herself that something existed beyond the perpetual numb.

But it never mattered how long she stayed in that barn. The cold always seeped back, and Feyre was no longer convinced it wasn’t a part of her. How else could she be crouched in the center of the lethal winter and find herself struck by its beauty? The snow fell lazily now, in big, fat clumps that gathered along every nook and bump of the trees. Mesmerizing—the lethal, gentle beauty of the snow. She should hate it, but maybe that would feel too close to hating herself.

The howling wind eased into a soft sigh. Soon, she’d have to return to the muddy, frozen roads of the village, to the cramped heat of the decrepit cottage where her sisters waited for their next meal. Some small, fragmented part of her recoiled at the thought of returning.

Then, a pair of bushes rustled across the clearing.

Drawing her bow was a matter of instinct. Feyre peered through the thorns, and her breath caught. Less than thirty paces away stood a small doe, not yet too scrawny from winter but desperate enough to wrench bark from a tree in the clearing. A deer like that could feed her family for a week or more. Feyre’s mouth watered.

Quiet as the wind hissing through dead leaves, she took aim. The doe continued tearing off strips of bark, chewing slowly, utterly unaware that her death waited yards away.

Feyre was already contemplating how she could dry half the meat, and they could immediately eat the rest—stews, pies … the skin could be sold or perhaps turned into clothing for one of them. Feyre needed new boots, but Elain needed a new cloak, and Nesta was prone to crave anything someone else possessed.

Her fingers trembled. So much food—such salvation. She took a steadying breath, double-checking her aim.

But there was a pair of golden eyes shining from the adjacent brush.

Feyre stilled.

The forest was silent. She hadn’t realized how unsettling the quiet had grown until the wind died, and the snow paused, and even the trees seemed to hold their breath, a riveted audience as the wolf inched closer from the brush.

He was enormous. The village hunters had said as much about the wolves that prowled in the northern territory, had spoken of animals large as ponies with an unrivaled stealth. She’d assumed their stories were embellished. No animal that massive could be so quiet.

Now, she witnessed it stalk forward, unheard, unspotted by the doe. His gaze was set on her, a sentience behind those glowing eyes that caused her mouth to dry. Her lips began shaping a wordless prayer to a nameless god, begging mercy from whatever divine power might be watching this clearing.

The voice that whispered to her was innate. He looked like a wolf, moved like a wolf. Yet she knew no animal of the mortal realm could possess such stillness, such intelligence. But a faerie could. Was it paranoia, her fears becoming unbridled and taking hold? Or was that voice in her mind the work of some primal, long-forgotten instinct remaining from the days when her people were kept as slaves?

Fae, the voice whispered. Not a wolf, a faerie.

She found herself reaching over her shoulder for her heaviest and longest arrow. An arrow carved from mountain ash, armed with an iron head. She’d purchased it from a traveling peddler during a summer when she’d had enough spare copper for extra luxuries. If legend were true, the ash wood could deal a mortal wound to the otherwise invulnerable fae.

The only proof humans had of the ash’s effectiveness was its sheer rarity. The High Fae had supposedly burned all the trees long ago. So few remained, most of them small and sickly and hidden by the nobility within high-walled groves.

For three years, the ash arrow had sat unused in her quiver while Feyre deliberated whether the overpriced wood had been a waste of money. Now she drew it, praying that the rumors were true, that she wasn’t staking her life on fiction.

Faerie or not, there would be no outrunning him. She could let him kill the doe and sneak away while he was distracted, but then she would be returning to her family empty-handed. This was winter, where ruthlessness was all she could afford.

And if it was indeed a faerie’s heart pounding under that fur, then good riddance. Good riddance, after all their kind had done to humans. If she let him live, then she risked him creeping into the village to butcher and maim and torment.

She would be glad to end him.

Yes, that instinctual voice agreed. The fae are dangerous. The fae are merciless. End him now and save your village from slaughter.

A prickling sensation along her back struck Feyre with a new fear—that he wasn’t alone. But she couldn’t hazard a glance over her shoulder to be sure, not without taking her eyes off the wolf. Feyre gripped her bow and drew the string back, training the arrow on his powerful, silver body. She had only one ash arrow, which meant she couldn’t afford to miss.

The wolf sank onto his haunches, preparing to strike. There was no time to second guess. He shot from the brush in a flash of gray and white and black, yellow fangs gleaming as they wrapped around the doe’s neck.

Feyre fired the ash arrow.

She swore the ground shuddered as the arrow found its mark in his side. He barked in pain, releasing the doe as his blood sprayed onto the snow—so ruby bright, not any different than her own. He whirled towards her, those yellow eyes wide, hackles raised. His growl reverberated in the empty pit of her stomach as she surged to her feet, snow crunching beneath her, another arrow drawn.

The wolf merely stared, his maw stained with blood, the ash arrow protruding so vulgarly from his side. The snow began falling again, and he looked at her with the sort of awareness that made her fire a second arrow. Just in case—just in case that intelligence was of the immortal, wicked sort.

He didn’t try to dodge the arrow as it went clean through his wide yellow eye.

Only once he collapsed to the ground, legs twitching, did Feyre notch another arrow and turn towards the thicket at her back. Her eyes anchored on the point of the arrowhead as she swept her aim blindly between the trees for any sign of that looming presence she’d sensed.

There was only slow-drifting snow, skeletal trees, and the soft whine of the dying wolf.

Alone, that residual intuition told her. Safe.

Feyre eased the arrow off the bow before turning to face the carnage. Her hands shook at the sight of the blood gushing from the wounds she’d given him, staining the snow crimson. He pawed at the ground, his breathing already slowing. The snow swirled around them, merciless as the arrow through his eye, almost to the goose fletching. She stared at him until that coat of charcoal and obsidian and ivory ceased rising and falling.

A wolf, she told herself. Only a wolf, despite his size.

Still, she couldn’t shake the creeping sensation of being watched as she crouched beside both animals. If nothing else, it encouraged her to work quickly. She couldn’t carry both animals back to the village—even the doe alone would be a struggle. But it was a shame to leave the wolf. His pelt would fetch decent coin or at least make for a nice cloak to fight off the winter chill.

Though it wasted precious minutes—minutes during which any predator could smell the fresh blood, if there wasn’t already one circling—Feyre skinned him and cleaned her arrow as best she could.

When she was finished, she wrapped the bloody side of the pelt around the doe’s death wound before hoisting the deer across her shoulders. Grunting against the weight, Feyre grasped the legs of the deer and spared a final glance over her shoulder, past the steaming carcass of the wolf to the forest beyond. Wind whistled against the hollow branches, obscuring any sound of nearby creatures.

And though nothing emerged from the trees on the other side of the clearing, she swore something in the vacant space stared back. Curious. Patient.

Feyre swallowed before sparing one last glance at the bloodied snow. Maybe she was unsettled by the gore, by how little remorse she felt for the dead thing. Grief was too heavy to hold with a doe around her shoulders and several miles separating Feyre from her cottage. Maybe she told herself something was watching so it could bear that burden in her place.

And maybe a creature so capable of mourning would be equally capable of forgiveness, so that when Death inevitably arrived on her doorstep—be it days or months or years—maybe the eyes that fell at her back would mourn for her, too.

The trampled snow coating the road into the village was speckled with brown and black mud from passing carts and horses. Elain and Nesta did their best to dodge the particularly disgusting parts as the three of them trekked their way along it.

Feyre was aware that her sisters had only decided to accompany her because she’d be selling the hides today. It was market day, which meant that the meager square in the center of town would be full of whatever vendors had braved the brisk morning. The snow had cleared some in the night, leaving Feyre hopeful that traveling peddlers had gambled the journey. She found they usually offered her a better price than the local merchants.

From a block away, the scent of hot food wafted towards them—spices that tugged on the edge of her memory, beckoning. Elain let out a low moan behind her, and Feyre’s mouth watered. Spices, salts, and sugars were rare commodities for most of the villagers. It had been a long while since Feyre and her sisters had eaten anything besides bread and game meat.

She fought the temptation to stare too long at the food vendors as they strode into the busy market square. Spring was still a long way off, and the forest had been particularly unforgiving this year. They needed to be smart with any excess coin, even if the scent of fresh tarts drifted towards her from the doors of the passing bakery. They were luxuries of a time before.

“I’ll meet you here in an hour,” Feyre said to her sisters, not giving them a chance to respond before she slipped away into the crowd.

Feyre took her time to assess her options. There were her usual buyers: the weathered cobbler and the sharp-eyed clothier who came to the market from a nearby town. She could feel the eyes of the cobbler and clothier on her, sense their feigned disinterest as they took in the satchel she bore.

Fine. She slid her eyes past them dismissively, searching the crowd for unfamiliar faces, someone who might be inclined to buy a wolf hide. Like the tall, raven-haired man sitting on the lip of the broken square fountain, without any cart or stall, but looking like he was holding court nonetheless.

It was hard to place him at first. He was handsome, ungodly so, and smiling to himself like he knew it. She might have pinned him as a lord’s son for the swaggering arrogance that radiated from him, but the clothes were off. He bore well-made leathers and a fur cloak. Not the finery of a lord, but from his full cheeks and glowing skin, he didn’t strike her as someone scraping for his next meal, either. He turned, and the pommel of the sword strapped across his back answered her question. A mercenary.

It wasn’t his sword that stilled her approach, though its silver scabbard was polished with enough care that it reflected light even with the overcast sky. It was his eyes, turning to meet hers. Such an interesting color—not quite blue, but a deeper shade, almost violet, and like his sword they were brighter than seemed possible in the bleak winter. They twinkled with amusement as he beheld her.

Feyre’s mood immediately soured. She didn’t have the patience for condescension today. She might have turned around, but he’d already seen her, and the coin purse strapped to his weapons belt looked heavy enough that she decided to stay. Mercenaries were well-paid in this territory.

“Well met,” he said, nodding his head in a gesture of greeting as equally foreign as the lilt to his voice.

She pegged him as anywhere between twenty-five to thirty years of age. His sensual, swaggering grace spoke of youth. But there was a hardened edge to him, one that said he’d been in this trade long enough to expertly wield the sword at his back, and to adequately punish anyone who made an inconvenience of themselves.

Feyre didn’t want to linger and find herself on the opposite end of that sword, especially before knowing if he was interested in buying from her. She sucked in a breath to offer her pitch and found herself blurting, “Where do you hail from?”

His brows raised. She suppressed an exhale of relief that it was intrigue sparking in his eyes, and not disapproval for wasting his time. “That depends.” Feyre couldn’t draw her attention away from his violet stare, even as it flitted over her shoulder, making a quick assessment of the passing villagers trying their best not to gawk. “Will my answer impact your willingness to do business with me?”

She supposed that meant others in the village had turned him away already. A surprise, given his exceptional beauty, but she supposed that amounted to little in the face of prejudice. Feyre knew well enough that a person’s circumstances didn’t define them, and that the judgment cast by the village was harsh on its best days. With the added rumors of neighboring villages being ransacked, she could imagine the wariness they might pay a stranger with a sword. Even a beautiful one.

“No,” Feyre said. “I’m just curious. I’ve never seen you here before.”

I would have noticed you, she thought.

In part because he was massive, even sitting down. A mark of the trade, she supposed. No one would hire a mercenary who looked like her—gangly from hunger and drowning in her layers. Unlike her withering figure, he was broad and well-muscled. Strong. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt that way.

As he contemplated her response, his gaze snagged on her arm and his smile faltered. “Are you a painter?”

The question caught her so off guard that she bristled, her weight shifting onto her back foot in case she needed to cut and run. The mercenary laughed, softly, and nodded at the fleck of paint on the sleeve of her tunic. Paint that had to have been there from three summers ago, damning evidence that this tunic was old and rarely washed.

She swallowed, apprehensive at his observation. Why it was relevant to someone like him. “I like to paint,” she said, because she wouldn’t go as far to call herself a painter. Her skills were rudimentary, at best. “Does it matter?”

An odd look crossed his face, as though he was retreating to some distant memory. Then he offered another of those arrogant smiles and mimicked, “No, I’m just curious.”

Fair enough. One personal question in exchange for another.

“I hail from Illyria,” he said. At her blank look, he added, “A tribe of people nestled in the steppes of a far-away mountain range.”

On the continent, she filled in. There was nothing like that here, at least not on this side of the Wall. When the land was divided all those centuries ago, the faeries had allocated a slim strip of plains and woodlands to the humans. Anything so majestic as a mountain range was left to the fae above the Wall, but at least these lands were hospitable without magic.

“No wonder the winter doesn’t phase you,” she said, gesturing to his cheeks and nose, which lacked the rosy flush that was surely painted on her own. “This weather must feel mild in comparison.”

“It’s been many years since I’ve returned to the Illyrian Mountains,” he said. He kept his voice light, but Feyre sensed they were treading towards unwelcome territory. “And the conditions in these lands have been harsh, but they may be letting up soon.”

Feyre frowned, glancing toward the sky. “You think so?”

There were at least two months remaining before winter yielded to spring. But perhaps wherever he came from, the weather changed sooner.

When she glanced back at the mercenary, he was staring at her, a smile playing on his full lips. “Things look promising from where I’m sitting.” Was he… flirting with her? Feyre must have spent too long debating it, because the mercenary drew her out of the thought by nodding at her satchel. “What business does a pretty thing like you have with a mercenary like me?”

It was absurd to feel flattered by his words. Feyre couldn’t remember the last time someone had bothered to pay her that sort of compliment. Certainly not Issac, who was inclined not to speak a word during those moments she found herself undressed beneath him. That was perfectly fine with Feyre. She preferred silence over a lie.

She fought to hide her scowl, but from his laugh, she thought it was unsuccessful. Pushing aside her rising ire, she said, “I have a wolf pelt and a doe hide for sale. I thought you might be interested in purchasing them.”

He ran those remarkable eyes down her again. Feyre coaxed herself to remain steady, to lift her chin as he crooned, “Does that make you a huntress or a thief?”

It was difficult to determine which would be more impressive to him. Feyre held his stare as she answered, “I hunted them myself. I swear it.”

He would not understand what it meant to her, that vow. After their world had been cleaved by the fae, humans had deserted their religions and holidays. In Faerie, they relied on magic to bind a person to their word, but they had no such tools here, no Cauldron or Mother or any other deities to swear upon. Here, a person was only as good as their word. To Feyre, and to many of the villagers, a vow was sacred. But if he fashioned her a thief, he may not consider her word as bond.

“A huntress then,” he purred. His attention fixed on her satchel. “Let me see.”

Feyre pulled out the carefully folded hides. “I was only after the doe, to feed my family. But the wolf got to her first. And I made sure I was the one who left the clearing alive.”

The mercenary gave a low whistle as he examined the hides with an expert eye, running his hands over and under. She expected to be met with incredulity, but she marked awe in his voice as he praised, “Impressive kill, little huntress. You must be a good shot.”

“If I weren’t, I’d be dead.”

That truth sobered him. Sobered them both. He assessed her for a long moment, then lifted his gaze over her shoulder, where Nesta and Elain were doing their best to eavesdrop without being spotted.

He pursed his lips. “I’ll take them,” he said, before naming a price that would have sent her staggering if she didn’t keep a tight grip on her composure. He was grossly overpaying.

Feyre leveled her shoulders. “I don’t need your pity.”

“No,” he agreed, eyes darkening. “But you need to stay out of those woods, and I know you won’t keep out of them if your family is starving.” The question must have been plain on her face. He pitched his voice lower. “I think you know that this wasn’t any ordinary wolf. It won’t take long for its kind to come sniffing, and you may end up leading them right to those sisters of yours.”

She refused to glance over her shoulder and offer merit to the fear he was trying to churn in her gut. He wanted her to look at her sisters and see their slight figures, so fragile and defenseless against a creature like the one she’d encountered yesterday morning. Her stomach roiled despite her efforts. “Are you trying to scare me so that I hand the coin right back to hire your protection?”

The mercenary chuckled, but it lacked any warmth. “My services have already been bought by a local lord. I’m just trying to warn you, from one hunter to another. You go back into those woods, and you’ll be courting your death.”

She wasn’t brave enough to ask if he was speaking from experience, if he’d once been hunted by the fae after killing their kin. If she was smart, she’d heed his words and use his coin to get her family on a boat headed south, somewhere far away from the Wall. But would they believe her, would they be willing to go?

“Think on it,” he said, as if she wasn’t already. She held perfectly still as he reached into his heavy cloak to withdraw his coin pouch. She let him count, her mind far away while she plotted their different options of escape, including the scenarios where she had to drag her sisters kicking and screaming from their beds. It was preferable to a vengeful faerie doing the same.

Maybe it was for the better. The land left for the humans in this realm had always been an afterthought, and the governing queens had never paid much attention to this small colony of villages. She’d heard things were better on the continent, the land warmer and more fertile. Elain could garden, and Feyre could learn to make paints from the petals. It was a nice thought, a comfort against the more dangerous one—if she didn’t convince her sisters to leave, a faerie might come seeking revenge for the one she felled.

Feyre’s awareness was jolted back into the cold market square by the press of metal against her palm. She blinked, and violet eyes filled her vision, creased in feint amusement.

“What’s your name?” He asked.

The weight of the coins felt heavy. She knew if she glanced at her sisters, she’d find them drawing closer, sensing the transaction was over. What would he do with her name if she gave it to him? She couldn’t imagine anything good could come of it.

“Tell me yours first,” She countered.

That errant smile grew. And she understood why he had chosen to become a mercenary. Feyre only hunted in the woods out of necessity. If tomorrow she discovered she would never need to raise her bow against another breathing creature, she would feel relieved. But from the way his eyes sparked, fascinated at this new game afoot, she knew that he was the kind of man who hunted for thrill. That this information, basic and inconsequential as it may be to the rest of the world, had become his new quarry.

He raised a hand, offering it into the space between them.

“Rhys,” he said.

Wind played at his raven hair, swiping pieces across his forehead. Feyre stared at his outstretched hand. Broad and flecked with the odd scar, his hands were more elegant than she’d expect of a mercenary. They wouldn’t have looked out of place against the ivory keys of a pianoforte or gripping fine cutlery at a Lord’s dining table. Maybe that was the danger of him—the charming smile and the clever eyes. Perhaps his foes saw a pretty face and underestimated what he could do with that sword. Maybe the poor mercenary was one littered with scars, whereas Rhys walked away from his battles unscathed.

“No family name?” she pressed.

“They’re not needed in my trade.” Rhys leaned forward, flexing his fingers in invitation. “And you, little huntress? What name might I inquire after to ensure you’re still alive in a week’s time?”

Rhys. She had no way of verifying if that was his true name. Maybe he changed it every place he went, never assuming the same identity, never leaving a trail. If a faerie found him one day and demanded to know where that wolf pelt had come from, what would stop Rhys from revealing her name? Especially if it could spare his own life.

He wouldn’t ask if he didn’t think it would be useful to him one day. She wouldn’t delude herself by buying into his purred words and bedroom eyes. Feyre took a step back, steadying herself.

“There’s only one huntress in this village,” she said. “They’ll know who you mean.”

The mercenary lowered his hand, slipping it casually into his pocket. “I told you mine.” Velvet as the melted chocolate being sold by the cup two stalls away, Rhys leaned closer and whispered, “That makes our debt uneven, love. I may seek payment for it one day.”

A shiver crept down her spine, though she couldn’t determine if it was from the threat of the words or the sultry promise in his voice. Feyre curled her hand around the strap of her satchel, fingers tightening over the worn leather like she didn’t trust he wouldn’t try to snatch it from her. “I have to go,” she said, her tongue feeling thick. From the cold, she reasoned.

He waved a hand over her shoulder, smirking at whatever caught his eye. “I wish you luck, then.”

Feyre turned, expecting to find that Nesta finally summoned the courage to yank her away. But the mercenary’s lazy smile wasn’t directed towards Nesta and Elain, ducked conspicuously behind the clothier’s wagon. It was aimed across the square. Where, leaning against a building, arms crossed over his chest, Isaac Hale watched their interaction through raised brows.

More of that wicked amusement spread over Rhys’s face. “Friend of yours?”

Friend was both an understatement and too generous of a word. They’d vaguely known each other since Feyre’s family had moved to the village, and one afternoon they wound up walking down the main road together. Their conversation had been inane and perhaps a bit awkward, but a week later, she’d pulled him into a decrepit barn. He’d been her first and only lover in the two years since.

Their trysts were erratic and haphazard; sometimes they’d meet every night for a week, others they’d go a month without seeing each other. If recollection served, it had been almost six weeks since that last frantic shedding of clothes and shared breaths. He has grown lean since the last time she saw him, his brown hair a bit shaggier.

There was no love between them. There never had been. But the last time she’d seen him, Isaac told her he’d soon be married. A piece of her heart had sunk at the news, and she’d avoided seeing him since. Now, she weighed the apprehension in her chest against the reprieve of company, that bit of selfishness that made their bleak and wretched lives more bearable.

Feyre blew out a breath, watching Issac incline his head in a familiar gesture and amble off down the street—out of town and to the ancient barn, where he would be waiting if she decided to join him.

“Yeah,” Feyre said. “A friend.”

If he believed her answer, he didn’t press. She didn’t imagine her pathetic love life would be of much interest to someone like him. There was no room for wives and children in his lifestyle. Perhaps the occasional love affair, though he likely didn’t stay in the same place for very long. Maybe that was why there was understanding in the way he nodded. Like he, too, needed the occasional warm body to remind himself that there was life outside of the daily horrors.

“Just try to stay out of trouble.” His eyes gleamed in a way that suggested staying out of trouble meant staying far, far away from him.

She didn’t get a chance to respond before a slender hand clamped onto Feyre’s forearm, dragging her away. Elain waited beside the clothier’s wagon, shivering despite her cloak as she watched Nesta pull Feyre away from the mercenary.

“Mercenaries are dangerous,” Nesta hissed, fingers digging into Feyre’s arm. Even Elain’s face had gone pale and tight. “Don’t go near them again.”

“He was fine,” Feyre said, yanking herself free. “Generous, even.”

“They’re brutes, and will take any copper they can get, even if it’s by force.”

The silver coins in her pocket said otherwise. Feyre glanced at Rhys, still sitting on the fountain. He hadn’t taken his eyes off her. She glanced away, feeling her cheeks warm, knowing she’d made it obvious they were talking about him.

She shoved a hand in her pocket, suddenly desperate to escape this market and those piercing violet eyes. She pushed a twenty-mark copper towards Elain, not bothering to look at either of them as she said, “I’ll see you at home.”

They didn’t protest. Feyre thought it was miraculous how swiftly a mercenary’s business became acceptable if it meant a new pair of boots, but she held back the sharp words on her tongue. Her sisters wandered off, already whispering about what they should buy.

Like an arrow trained at her back, she could feel the mercenary’s gaze tracking her as she wove through the market stalls, not even bothering with subtlety in those rare moments when she gathered the courage to glance over her shoulder. He merely grinned at her, shameless.

She intentionally left down the same street as Isaac, just so Rhys might assume she was on her way to meet the farmboy. And think twice about following her. When she reached the ancient barn, she paused. Isaac would be waiting to undress her on the other side of the splintered and peeling wood. She could already feel the hot breath on her spine, the hay straws biting into her palm, her knees. Maybe it was better to see him in case Rhys didn’t think twice about following her. And maybe because she could feel a pit in her chest yawning open, and she thought Isaac’s strong, work-roughened hands might be able to hold it closed for just a little longer.

Just enough to feel warm again, for an afternoon. Before she returned to the cottage and remembered that she killed a faerie yesterday. And might very well have put a price on her head—on her family’s head—because of it.

He’s married, a small, rational voice reminded her. Maybe it’s time to move on.

Besides, the last thing she wanted was to get him killed.

Feyre walked past the barn. She ought to feel proud of her dignity, but it didn’t soothe the pit in her chest, a tempest of ice and darkness that slowly seeped out with every step along the frozen path back to the cottage. No amount of stuffing her fingers into her armpits could banish the cold. It was here, it was her.

She sighed, watching the breath expel in a cloud of frosty air. There had always been an undercurrent of darkness that drew her and Isaac to each other, but now she wondered if she was too frozen, too hollow, even for him.

And as she walked, she found herself thinking about Rhys, unflinching at the bite of winter. And how, for that short time she’d been drenched in the heat of his gaze, his eyes the first vibrant color she’d seen since winter had overtaken the village, she’d forgotten what it was to be cold.

Hours later, after another dinner of venison, Feyre’s family gathered around the fire for the quiet hour before bed. She watched the flames flicker in the fireplace, absently bathing in the precious heat before she and her sisters would retreat into the bedroom, where they’d huddle together for warmth beneath threadbare blankets.

Nesta and Elain whispered and laughed together about some encounter they’d had with a handsome apprentice in the marketplace. There was the odd lull in laughter, in which Nesta would slide her eyes to Feyre as if daring her to make some comment about Tomas Mandray, a woodcutter’s second son who would allegedly be proposing to her any day now. They’d fought about it the day prior, but it felt like centuries ago.

All evening, she’d been trying to summon the courage to admit to her family where that wolf’s pelt had truly come from. What it had come from. She wasn’t certain how they would react or if they would even take the warning of the mercenary seriously. Father might. He’d once traded one of his wood carvings for the wards etched around their cottage’s threshold, supposedly meant to protect their home against faerie harm. It was one of the few things he’d bothered to do for them. If the fae scared him enough that he’d barter with a charlatan for those useless engravings, maybe the threat would be enough to rattle him into action again.

Except he was dozing in his chair, his cane laid across his gnarled knee. And she suspected she would get nowhere with her sisters without his aid. He had no sway with Nesta, but Elain would listen to him. And wherever Elain went, Nesta would follow.

Tomorrow, then. She would speak privately with her father and worry about convincing her sisters later.

Tomorrow was a nice idea.

But then a roar cleaved through the still night. The cottage door burst into splinters. And her sisters screamed as snow flooded into the room, flurrying around the enormous, growling shape that appeared in the doorway.

#FOR ME??? PERFECTION FOR ME????🥹🥹🥹#secret santa #I will be rereading this so often

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