#out of the blue;; mun things

[endl3ss-blu3]

4: Is there anything enjoyable about writing your muse?

8: If you knew your muse in RL would you be friends or enemies?

for thresh?

{ Munday Ooc Questions \\ Open! }

(( Hm, the most enjoyable things is exploring new themes I don't get to write often.

I don't usually write things that are angsty or has a lot of uh suffering???Like, a lot of rp history is mostly happy characters and silly stupid shit for the lols so this is a nice change. I'm still getting the hang of it tho >> ))

((If I knew Thresh IRL I'm not sure we would be friends. Maybe bby Thresh sure but older one is a bit of a yikes with how deeply hes trying to convince himself.

That's the biggest mental break down waiting to happen and it's not gonna be a pretty one.))

[munmun]

love languages

happy valentine’s day

[epitomees]

((This is where my descent into madness P3 era begins.))

[aftonenterprise-moved]

levi jordan has been like my biggest and newest blorbo for months that no one knows bc i only p[ost about him on a secret blog because iof how triggering fear and hunger can be but oh my god i am crazy about him hes such a weird little puppy. HE MAKES ME CRY. i dont know if anyone in the rpc has played fear and hunger other than like 1 person but im crazy about it it makes me go nuts. levi is my little dog i feed treats out of my hand. he is everything to me

[galaxofmuses]

[rcseadorned]

how to explain sofi's eyes cause it's not apparent somethings up with 'em. under normal lighting and circumstances, her eyes look normal. they might be like more gem like bright blue but that's about it. it's when a light source hits it directly that they look funky and the iris detail and pupil reflect the light back and disappear. but because eyes are always moving around, it's hard to notice.

[caeca-iustitia]

Okay so... After literally 2 days I am finally happy with this!

This is an outfit that Vincent wears when hanging around with their daughters- a casual look if you will.

Also! Just so you know, it's the same kind of flower that Aerith wears in her hair in the remake's red dress. Vincent doesn't wear the ribbon like the others do on their day-to-day outfit ('cause of their prosthetic arm) so they opt to wrap it around their hair tie in their casual attire and represent Aerith with a flower instead.

Pose By: BasakTinli

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Current obsession - the updates and changes to the Diaz house!!

Eddie has a new painting over the mantle

and a new one next to the front door in red and blue. The fire engine/truck on its side on the table has me feeling a certain type of way - it feels like a nod to the ladder truck explosion that crushed Bucks leg, but it could also be foreshadowing for this season as well - we'll have to wait and see how things shake out!

The water painting has moved again - its now on the wall next to Christophers room ----------------------------------------------------vvv

and these have appeared on the sitting room wall where that water painting has been seen previously - are they making you scream??

what if I showed you this picture from 4x14

are you screaming like I am now?? Becasue I am very very feral about that picture appearing - pennyfarthing megaphone mans megaphone is pointing right at Eddie nad Bucks ears ini these scenes - saying ... at the top of ones voice - the universe is screaming at you and you refuse to listen!!!!

There are new band posters in Christophers room - the Lunadeers one under the solar system mobile. The name Lunadeers is a fun one - its obviously a play on the band the Lumineers - a made up name, but is a play on the concept of illuminating something - the idea of lighting the way in the darkness - illuminating is also the idea of becoming enlightened and seeing things differently or in a new light.

Luna = moon and is obviously connected to the space theming, but there is also the deers part of the name - deers are crepuscular animals - they are more active at night - in the darkness - under the moon

I'm also clowning is a reference to Buddie because the 'mun' in Edmundo is pronounced moon and a male deer is a Buck - so moon-deer - Eddie and Buck - a nod to Christophers two fathers rom the set and props departments!

Then there is also the Violet Brothers poster on the back of his door - heavily leaning wards the yellow and blue colour ways, there is also the fact that violet is a really interesting colour - it represents future hopes and dreams, imagination and sensitivity!

Not to mention all the watery themes things I've already spotted - mostly what seem to be camp stickers on his wardrobe and the pinboard

theres also a 'boom' sticker - which I love as a possible nod to Christophers roast of Buck in 6x01, but also as a nod to the explosives buck and Eddie have dealt with as part of their job - the grenade and the rocket from this episode plus the foreshadowing of the ship going boom!

The cool cool cool sticker is giving me Abed from community vibes (a queer coded character in his own right!)

and Christophers room has now gained a plant - it moves around a bit - its on the table next to the lamp by the window, then its in a basket next to the table, but its possibly a nod to Christopher growing up!

[endl3ss-blu3]

💗 :3

yall killing me

thank you so much!!!!

[formosusiniquis]

have your cake

So way back in August 2023 the steddiemicrofic challenge was Cake and 311 words, my head empty brain came up with one thought and it was Steve Munson having a bakery called Mun's Buns and so many months later I finally got around to finishing my vision

Ships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson; Tommy Hagan/Carol Perkins; implied/past Tommy Hagan/Steve Harrington/Carol Perkins WC: 6408 | T | tags: Future Fic, the lightest of post homoerotic friendship breakup angst, fluff, Tommy POV AO3

The bakery has a stupid name, is the first thing Tommy thinks when Carol tells him where he's supposed to meet her on his lunch break. He’s still thinking that, when he sees the place for the first time through his rain speckled windshield. It's a modest storefront, small for what Carol says is a booming business, tucked in next to a used bookstore and a music shop. There's a baby yellow awning hanging from the front just underneath a sign lettered in soft blue that reads Mun's Buns.

He's late, is the second thing he thinks after pulling up. Caught up in some stupid bullshit for his dad he hadn't managed to slip away until 12:30. Even then it had only been because Tommy had told him he was going to be late for their cake tasting. He'd rolled his eyes when his father and Greg, a guy that Tommy only considers a co-worker in the sense that they are technically on the same payroll since Greg in every other aspect is incompetent and an idiot, had winced. Shooing him away like a kid who'd just admitted that he's already twenty minutes past curfew. But catching sight of the way Carol has her arms crossed, tapping her foot fast enough to kickstart a motor, while her hair hangs limp in a way that it hadn’t this morning a third thought crosses his mind: maybe he should have been a little more worried.

Waiting isn’t going to make things any better. So he steps out of the car, let’s the misty damp cling to him in a way that makes his dress pants and button down feel like a poorly tailored second skin, and takes his licks like a man. "Late, thirty minutes late. Christ, it's the only thing I've asked from you Tommy." Her right hook stings just as badly as it did sophomore year when she punched him for asking out Erin Murphy instead of her.

Shit like that is probably why no one expected them to make it this long or this far.

When they went away to college; different schools, hours apart. His parents had been gleeful as they'd warned him that high school relationships didn't always last. That he should keep his options open, he didn't want to miss out on the love of his life just because of comfort. He didn't get offered the family ring when he decided to propose right after graduation. Carol has always been particular. Wanted the house to come back to before the wedding could happen, wanted a long honeymoon. That meant saving, a lot of it. Tommy knew and Carol did too, they'd overheard his mother and aunt gossiping in too loud voices after too much wine that they hoped the long engagement meant they were both trying to figure out a good way to break it off with one another. 

Still, over the course of their now five year engagement no one's asked once if they wanted to trade for it.

Carol thought it was horrendous anyway. She’d had her ring picked out since ‘85, styled her class ring so it would look like the oval cut diamond she wanted. Had him slide it on her finger the second it came in.

Cause in the politest of terms, Carol could be a raging bitch. She was Tommy's favorite person in the entire world.

There’s going to be a bruise on his shoulder tomorrow, even if she’s guiltily smoothing a hand down his arm now. Thrust toward the door first in offering, Carol is sorry she hit him but she’s not apologetic. “I’m serious, Tom, if we lose this appointment and have to go with Sweet Treats for our cake I'll- I'll-"

Whatever threat she was preparing is drowned out and then cut off by the echoing TONG of the door chime. A light in the back shifts color for a second, out of place enough that he wonders if he even really saw it. Head tilting toward Carol, his question catches in his throat when he notices her pinched off appraising. Better not to add to the ammunition she might already be building.

And if Carol is looking he better do it too. She'll want to debrief when they're having dinner tonight, just like they did with the florist, the caterer, the three wedding planners they'd met with, and each of the venues that they'd visited. And it wasnt because she was demanding, fuck you Greg. It wasn't because she was being nitpick-y, alright it was a little bit because she was but he liked being particular with her. He liked being involved in his wedding.

So he looked around.

The way they utilized their space -- a building that big and there's barely enough room to stand, we want someone who knows how to work with limited space for the venues we're looking at -- was the reason their first wedding planner hadn't gotten hired. Small, but not cramped. There are a handful of tables scattered in the open space in front of the counter. It’s the kind of small town cozy that Hawkins had tried for and he doesn’t see very often anymore now that they’ve moved out to Indianapolis.

It’s lunchtime, still too early for people to be seeking out the rows of deserts in their neat glass counter and too late for the breakfast crowd. But one of the tables is occupied by a teenager with long, black braids scribbling in a notebook while a slice of ice cream cake melts on a plate by her elbow. 

Everything was neat, organized, and compliant with health code regulations -- they hadn’t even made it in the door of the first caterer’s when she noticed a trail of ants and roaches marching into the open kitchen door.

Carol had always been quick when she was making up her mind about something. Like those Sherlock Holmes stories they’d had to read in school, in a couple of seconds she could spot everything she needed to make a decision. After a decade Tommy still couldn’t keep up; but he was always best at following someone else’s lead.

The smile she’s got frosted across her face is as sugary and fake as the roses on the cupcakes he can see behind the low topped counters as she approaches the only visible staff member. A girl, young in the way that nebulous way anyone younger than him was now, with thick squared glasses that magnified two distressingly blue eyes. The counters looked like they were designed to sit low enough that she could easily see over the top while in her wheelchair.

“Welcome to,” her customer service tone borders on bored. Two words into a clear script and she sighs, as if saying the name physically pains her, “Mun’s Buns. We’ve got a special series of summer flavors: Strawberry Lemonade, Lavender Mint, Chocolate Fudgsicle, and,” she sighs again, “for the grownups a boozy Blue Moon with orange zest.”

“How about a wedding cake.” He’s impressed. Carol made it through the speech without interrupting.

“Do you have an appointment?” the girl raises her voice, enough to make them both flinch back. Customer service isn’t a requirement for this part of the job necessarily, but Carol had bailed on two venues because the staff hadn’t been polite enough.

Her smile doesn’t crack though, “Yes.”

Even though he’s pretty sure this girl has to be basically blind with the inch thick frames, she levels Carol with a lethal stare. “Not you.”

From the open entryway behind her Tommy had been able to make out what sounded like the highlights of yesterday’s game. He assumed that space had to be the kitchen where these rows of deserts were made. He’s still surprised when a guy’s voice is shouting back, “I don't know, Max, do I? Why don't you check?”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Max shouts back, glowering at then in stand in for her mystery boss.

“With your finger, asshole. It's in braille. When I gave you this job you said you were actually gonna work.”

“Douchebag." Her eyes never leave them, while her hands rummage around in a space beneath the counter where the cash register sits. Max offers no explanation or apology for her shouting or for her boss. A large red appointment book gets slammed down on the nearest counter, making Carol jump but the neat two by twos of chocolate frosted cupcakes don't budge. He watches, a little fascinated by the way her finger scans the page before slowing. "Did you write this or did Dustin?"

Carol has always valued gossip over professionalism, he thinks that’s why she’s done so well as a hairdresser even though she was always awful at chemistry. It’s also why he’s held off from pointing out that they could solve this a lot faster if this guy would come out from the back. "Why?" 

“Cause one of you can't spell and one of you is trying to invent braille shorthand. So I'm not really sure what to do with TomGan Wed.”

“It might be Thomas and Wedding.” Carol leans over the appointment book as she says it, using a tone of voice he has never once heard her use in the entire time he’s known her. He thinks it’s supposed to be helpful.

“Wedding sampler.” The girl calls toward the back, “It's getting late.”

“I’ve got it,” the voice from the back shouts back.There’s an effortless assurance Tommy can hear from where he’s standing. It hits him with a wave of nostalgia so strong he grabs Carol’s arm on instinct.

“Really,” she says, cutting her gaze over to him. He’s not sure what she sees. “If we could hurry this along, it's just we've only got an hour.”

“You're late.” The glare she gets shuts Carol down faster than he’s ever seen.

“Right.”

“Okay I've got it.” The voice from the back is now the voice in the doorway. Hidden for a second by a serving tray loaded with samples of rich looking cake, it’s the first time since arriving that Tommy has actually wanted to be here. Not just because he can make out strong shoulders and a body of a man that’s still very fit but clearly enjoys his work too; the hint of love handles above strong thighs. Only then that tray dips, and for the first time since 1985 Tommy finds himself looking at the shocked hazel eyes of Steve Harrington. “Oh.”

Carol reacts for him, taking in a breath sharp enough she might puncture a lung. They’ll both wind up suffocated on the floor of this stupid bakery with an awful name, because Tommy can’t manage to breathe at all looking at Steve. Still unfairly handsome, faintly pink at the shock of seeing them too he imagined.

His hair is long, is the first real thought his half fried brain manages to put together. Soft looking even where it’s damp at the temples where sweat has pooled. He has it pulled back with a couple of the same butterfly clips that Carol likes to use.

His second, somehow more hysterical thought: this wasn’t how Steve Harrington was supposed to be included in his wedding.

Tommy was six years old and knew he wanted to marry Steve. When he’d told his mom -- to ask for her ring, Steve thought it was romantic like princes and princesses that they had a special ring that they got married with -- she’d grabbed by his arm so hard it’d left finger shaped bruises. So he’d held that certainty quiet in his heart until he was ten, and suddenly it was okay to want to play with girls on the playground -- he thinks it’s because Steve got tired of there never being an even number when they tried to play kickball, he had a way of making everyone want to do the thing he was. Carol wasn’t afraid to tell Tommy C. that he was dumb or to tell Mark L. that he hadn’t actually made it to the base, Steve liked her fast. Too fast, and Tommy had to tell her that one day he was going to be able to keep Steve all to himself. But he knew that it wasn’t right to say that now, even if he wasn’t all the way sure why it wasn’t. He was ten, but he would be eleven soon, and he took this part of him that he’d kept secret for so long and he whispered it to Carol under the slide while Steve tried to convince Brad P. that he could too pick two people for his kickball team first.

He was ten and Carol said they could share. Boys can’t marry boys, but girls can. So they could both marry her and live together forever.

It became a joke when they finally shared it with Steve, thirteen and boys going out with girls wasn’t funny the way it used to be. Sarah Jane asked Carol if she had a chance at going steady with Steve. She told Tommy about it later and they both told Steve that he was too good to date any of the girls in their grade. “Well I’ve got you guys,” his voice cracked when he said it, throwing an arm around both of them. Carol didn’t care as much, but even she’d noticed the way Steve was changing from boyish to handsome.

They were sixteen and disaster was just around the corner, not that he knew that. Steve dated around but he always came back to them. The head, the heart, the body. They don’t feel complete without each other -- at least Tommy doesn’t. Mr. Kripke, who was hungover more often than he wasn't, passed out ten minutes into study hall. Carol didn’t even wait to see if he’d wake back up before she left her assigned table for theirs. She smoothed out a lined piece of notebook paper for them, and Tommy scoffed like he was supposed to. “Aren’t we a little old to be playing MASH?”

“It’s dirty MASH, and I thought you’d think it was funny.”

“I think it’s funny,” Steve had said, “that you’re getting eiffel towered on your wedding night. Who else is joining in, Carrie?”

“We couldn’t agree on who got you for their side of the aisle. So we’re taking you to bed instead.”

He was sixteen and the way that the two of them looked when they shared a joke was the hottest thing in the world. The way their smiles mirror when they turned to him, sharp and ready to flay open the softest parts of him.

Tommy’s two days older when Steve lets him kiss the taste of Carol out of his mouth.

It was three days after he turned seventeen and he had to pretend he didn't want to die when he saw how Steve looked at Nancy Wheeler. Like he didn’t want to rip his hair out because Steve was fucking infatuated with this mousy little teacher’s pet and wouldn’t even look at him anymore.

He still doesn’t like to think about the breakup. He pokes it like a fresh bruise. Less often now, but when he does he digs his fingers in. Baits Carol into fights he doesn’t mean just so he can pretend like he hasn’t lost something that hurts like a limb.

Steve Harrington turns twenty-eight next week, and he’s standing in front of them both holding pieces of what might turn into their wedding cake.

“Wow I can’t believe you’re in Indy!” False excitement grates, but at least Carol has gotten herself together enough to speak. He thought he’d have at least another few months to prepare for the thought of seeing Steve, by their ten year reunion he was going to be married and happy and over it.

“Yeah, this is- Married, wow! I kinda can’t believe you haven’t already.” He says it to Carol, his platitudes had always been for Carol, but his eyes find Tommy. 

While Carol chatters at them and for them both, nervous, he knows she’s nervous. The situation is sudden and strange and fraught. But Tommy just looks at Steve, who looks at him. He’s getting married in three months, one week, and two days from now and for the first time in eleven years Steve is looking at him.

"Takes a while to save up for when you want the best of everything. Dad's still the skinflint he always was, I think he'd pay me less than minimum wage if he could get away with it."

And those soft brown eyes look so sad, looking at him. Sometimes he thinks no one will ever understand him the way that Steve did.

"There's nothing wrong with wanting the best, or having a long engagement." Carol defends. It's the same line she's been giving everyone. Defensive of him and herself and the choices they've been making. He can't believe Steve is someone she thinks they have to defend against.

“I really hope you're happy, man," he says, and the sincerity is a balm on the sting of this conversation. He pushes his hair back from his face, the way he always has when he's uncomfortable and trying not to make it obvious. And there's a fresh new hurt when Tommy catches sight of a plain gold band on Steve's finger, shining bright between the golden highlights of his hair.

“I’m happy about this,” he can say honestly. Carol is one of the only things he’s ever been sure about. She held him steady as she could when his other sure thing left him with a cracked foundation in a convenience store parking lot. “What about you? How long after meeting the future Mrs. Harrington did you wait to put a ring on her finger?”

“Tommy,” Carol chides as the teen in the corner snorts. To anyone else it would sound like a reprimand for being nosy, he, and he suspects Steve, knows she’s telling him to stop worrying a scab that has no hope of healing right.

Married and they didn’t know. Wouldn’t have found out until the reunion. It’s not like he expected an invitation, maybe an engagement announcement sent to their parents’ houses. They’d sent one to Loch Nora when the real ring had finally made it to Carrie’s finger. It was equal parts olive branch and offering. They’d gotten it back return to sender with no forwarding address.

The bell above the door tongs again, loud enough to make Carol jump. The platter of cakes doesn't shift at all in Steve’s hand. His arm shows no sign of fatigue. It’s almost distracting enough that he misses the obvious. The bell signals someone is coming into the store.

“Sorry, Sweetheart. I know I said I wasn't gonna be late but Mike…” There just inside the door is the Freak. Undeniable even with his head down as he digs through his shoulder bag. From the riot of poorly maintained tangles that still hang around his shoulders to the expanded mess of tacky ink on his arms. The only thing that’s changed is the age in his face and the band on his shirt.

“Munson?” Carol has the reflexes and the personal grace to address him first. Shock more than the disgust it might have been when they were still kids.

Tommy feels like a kid still. Looks to Steve in an instinct he’d thought he’d stamped out years ago, only to be met with wide eyes and teeth grit tight enough to draw out the square line of his jaw.

“Christ, I still get nightmares that start like this.” Munson says, eye darting between the three of them. “Max, am I naked?”

“Don't know, don't wanna know.”

“I thought you'd be able to tell by the energy in the room.” He wiggles his fingers, still bedecked in silver, like they can divine the vibrations or some witchy shit.

That’s enough to make Steve break just a little. A soft, exhaling scoff before he finally starts to move out from the counter. Tommy catches, and he doubts Carol misses it either, how Steve passes the closer tables to set his tray down between them and Munson.

“I can tell I don't want to be here for this.” Their redheaded audience member says, “I'm taking my 15.”

“Don't go harass Mike, he's finally working,” Munson says.

“Will and El are on shift on the other side,” Steve calls out, not looking at any of them as he moves cakes from his tray to the table. A deliberate selection he seems to be making.

“Whatever, I’m gonna call Lucas and break up with him so he can play better or whatever.”

“Don’t be too harsh,” Munson calls out, “I’ve only got him on a five point spread.”

If Carol’s nails break from how hard they’re digging into his arm, somehow it’ll be Tommy’s fault. Not the fact that they’ve advanced the worst part of their ten year reunion by months, and also Munson is here and knows shit about basketball.

“Sorry, think my hearing’s going, sounded like you said you want him to lose and he’s getting kicked from the next one shot. I’ll let him know.”

“She gets that from you,” Steve and Munson say in sync. Glaring playfully at one another the way Steve used to with Carol.

“I’ll tell Robin you were-”

“Do not sick Buckley on me, Max made the deaf joke not me.”

“Weird, that’s not what I heard.” Steve has always claimed his hair as his best feature. It isn’t -- Carrie liked his eyes, Tommy his hands -- but it’s hard to deny that it doesn’t look good, flipping over his shoulder. His smile is private, just for Munson, soft the way he got whenever he picked up a new girl. Carrie taps the back of his hand, two sharp smacks, their signal for years that he needed to pay attention and notice something she had. Wide, nervous eyes dart to Steve -- like he hadn’t already been looking at Steve -- so he does his best to assess the way Carol would.

Jealous, viciously, Steve had been theirs in every way that mattered since they were ten years old and Carol had never liked sharing her toys with anyone but them. She watched his face for any sign of unhappiness anytime a new girlfriend came along, and when she found one she passed it along to him. So he could pick and joke until Steve was all theirs again.

So he checked the face. Tried to ignore the way Steve was lit up from the inside out with a joy he could barely remember, and then he saw the hearing aid.

He tapped back, three times. O.M.G.

“The 1985 Homecoming court here to reveal that this has all been a long con, Stevie?”

“Yeah I faked the name change paperwork and picked up a fake ID, sorry I took my business somewhere else.” Steve says it with the sincerity he’s always made those kind of jokes with, his strange sense of humor never coming across when he always sounded so serious. 

Munson gets it though, snorts loud and ugly, before a smile pulls wide across half his face the otherside taught with a gnarly scar. “Now I know why my fake ID business went belly up when we got to the city, not like I only sold three in high school.”  He gestures to the three of them in a wide arc.

Sophomores, they had decided it was time to throw their first real party now that Steve’s parents had moved out of Hawkins in all but name. Steve was a latchkey kid of new proportions and took to self sufficiency in a way that had seemed adult to him then; and in hindsight looked more like a child fighting for his life. Steve bragged how he’d been saving up the weekly checks they’d sent to ‘sustain him’ while they worked in the city during the week. His contribution to Tommy and Carol’s vague plan to throw a kegger by the pool. When they’d floundered, immediately, with the hows, Steve had been the one to suggest going to Munson.

“Love this preview of the reunion,” Carol cuts in, there’s no bite but Munson bristles anyway like she’s being rude for reminding them that there are customers present. “Steve?”

It’s funny, Tommy thinks, the way Steve still straightens his back at Carol’s tone. All this time and he can’t fight the old ingrained instincts either.

“Dustin made the appointment,” Steve apologizes, even as he’s posture perfect and preparing his pastries. The unsaid, ‘I definitely wouldn’t have’ doesn’t go unheard and it doesn’t sting any less even this far from their last interaction.

“Munson could join us,” Tommy offers, a new olive branch since their last one was never seen. Even if it does raise three sets of brows and makes Carrie’s nervous smile tighten even more in the corner of her mouth.

“Well at least one of us has to,” Munson, Eddie, says. Just says, tone like it was meant to be something said under his breath.

He's grown up a lot since high school, they both have. Still, he's only got twenty minutes left on his lunch break and it's been a long day. "God, is that why it's called that?" Growth, he doesn't say that Steve Munson sounds a lot dumber than Steve Harrington.

"It's charming," Carol and Steve both say. Though Carrie is definitely lying and Steve barely gets it out from between his gritted teeth, a sore spot. He's always been good at finding Steve's bruises.

"It's charming," Tommy agrees, like he always did when he was out voted.

Eddie has a smirk spread across his face and a ‘too proud of himself’ look in his eyes. Mouth open to make some quip that Tommy is going to pretend is funny, for Steve’s sake. Now that they’re here, he’s going to do something to show that they could talk to one another again. Steve clicks his tongue, taps his index and middle finger down to his thumb two quick times before he can.

He turns to the girl in the corner, "Erica, scram, go help Robin and the kids with the new donation that just came in."

The teen continues to scribble in the notebook in front of her, bulky headphones over her ears, she makes no sign that Tommy can see that she's heard Steve speak. "Erica, go, or I'll tell your mother you moved out of the dorms. You're 20, it's not child labor, and you've got a timecard."

She sighs and wordlessly packs up her things, she gives Steve a scathing look that takes Tommy back to high school. The withering eyebrow and rolled eyes would have been just at home on Steve’s own face in 1985, but she marches behind the counter, the sound of her dish rattling in the sink before she disappears out the same door that the redhead had gone out.

Now that the room has been cleared, an awkward silence has found the space to squeeze in. Munson, the original, still standing in the doorway and Steve standing between his unlawfully wedded husband and the two people who had lost their chance at him years ago.

The wedding and the reunion both on the horizon had dredged up a nostalgia that Tommy and Carol had been dealing with in their own ways. Dredging up old yearbooks, Carol had found a shoebox of old notes that she’d kept. Conversations written in three different inks by three different hands, nonsensical after all this time. Tommy woke up from dreams that he hadn’t had in years. Always of Steve and Carol, a study in opposites, but similar where it mattered.

“Well,” Steve says, taking charge of the situation like he always would when the other two faltered, “you’re here for a reason. We might as well get started on it.”

Steve’s fingerprints are still on them, just like he’d noticed theirs on him, molded as they were together. They’ve always bowed to his expectations, and his whims. When he ushers them to the table with a spread hand, Tommy and Carol go where they’re beckoned.

And so does Munson.

They keep an empty chair between them, an artificial divide for Tommy’s sanity, but with the sprawl of Munson’s legs their knees still occasionally brush together. Carol had taken the spot closest to Steve, who has stayed standing. He is their gracious host, marking the head of the round table.

“I pulled out the full sampler before I realized it was you,” Steve says. Even with as off balance as the interaction has felt, Tommy doesn’t feel his hackles raising. While it’s possible he’s gotten more subtle with his digs, Steve’s vicious tongue was usually unmistakable. “I can tell you about as many of them as you want though if you want to pretend like we don’t already know what I’ll be making you. I’m sure neither of you have eaten lunch yet.”

“You are going to take us on?” Carol asks. Shock always gives her tone an extra edge, defensive and catty, even if she’s really just waiting to see if another shoe will drop.

“Obviously,” Steve says, placing a faintly orange square of cake in front of her. He slaps Eddie’s hand away from another piece without looking away from either of them. “That’s as far as I’ll be going in participation though.”

He doesn’t miss the way Steve’s mouth twitches up with the joke, a filthy smirk that leaves Tommy flushing hot. Too warm to not be a bright and obvious red at the acknowledgment of that old private in-joke.

It doesn’t get better when Carol moans, “Oh my god, Steve!” Even if it is about the cake.

He laughs, and Tommy suspects the two are actually trying to kill him. He chances a glance over at Munson who looks like he doesn’t care at all that his husband has made Tommy’s fiance moan. He is watching Tommy though, an inquisitive look like the one Carol gets when she happens to catch a nature documentary.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees with Carol, “I’ll do something small with that citrus cake for you and Tom so you’ve got something you’ll actually eat on your wedding, maybe a pineapple buttercream on top like that nasty Juicy Fruit gum you like so much.”

“I mean it’s really crazy how you’re so good at this when you’ve never had any taste,” Carol compliments, she never did learn how to be nice.

He could probably count Steve’s teeth in the answering smile. Tommy can feel it like an ache in his chest how much he missed this. He snatches another cube of cake off the tray just so has something else to focus on.

“That’s the fancy one for the people who hate their guests,” Munson says as the cake has settled on the flat of Tommy’s tongue.

“It’s lavender,” Steve corrects, and the floral flavor is lodged in the back of his throat at least gives him a reason now to feel so choked up. “And it is for a particular sort of bride.”

“Are you saying I’m not fancy and particular, Munson?” Carol asks. 

She’s obviously talking to Eddie Munson, who lifts his hands up in answer. But it’s Steve who says, “If you tried to feed that to Gail she would leave the reception bitching the whole time.”

“Well go on,” Tommy finds himself goading now that he’s swallowed, “finish calling your shot, Stevie. You said you knew what we were walking out of here with.”

Carol reaches across the table, locking eyes with Eddie as she snags the piece closest to him. The one his fingers had been inching toward like he thought Steve wouldn’t notice him trying to take it.

“I’ll make a small citrus cake for you, Carrie, we’ll hide it in the back of the larger cake so you can get the pictures of you cutting it and smashing into each other's faces-”

“We will not be doing that,” she interrupts, the warning for him and also unnecessary. He already knows how she feels about being embarrassed in public.

“Then the big cake for your guests will be a chocolate cake, I can cover it in a buttercream or a fondant icing also chocolate, because it’s the only kind of cake the Hagan family will eat. Even though I’m sure John hasn’t given you a dime for the wedding, he’ll complain until Hannah gets married if he doesn’t like the cake.”

“Really,” Steve continues, “the only thing up in the air is how many people you were able to get away with not inviting, Care.”

The two of them start talking actual wedding logistics, and as Tommy grabs another bite of cake -- this one looks like it might be a normal flavor -- he figures the real show of good faith would be talking to the only other person at the table while he eats what Steve correctly dubbed his lunch.

“Y’know he never actually answered me,” he says in an undertone.

Munson seems surprised at being spoken to, only widens his eyes in response to Tommy’s unasked question.

“I asked Steve how soon after the first date he proposed, he never actually answered.”

Eddie softens at the edges before he can even say anything. Steve had a way of doing that, bringing out the romantic in a person. He loved with a passion that demanded it be matched. “Technically I proposed to him, but he says it doesn’t count because we weren’t together and I was high on morphine after a major surgery and thought he was Apollo, come to whisk me away.” The smile on Munson’s face looks dopey and drugged up now, like the very memory of whatever hospital stay is so ingrained in his mind he can feel the high now.

“But,” he goes on, “he told me we were getting married whether it was legal or not about three months after he got legally married to another woman.”

“Stop,” Steve has always been able to sense when he’s about to be the butt of the joke. He has a finger pointed at Eddie like a teacher delivering a lecture. “You can’t tell people that. It was for tax reasons, I’m not cheating on my wife.”

“You say tomato, I say whichever one of us is your least favorite has to be the extramarital affair.”

“I say, you’re the most obnoxious person I’ve ever met.” Tommy can hear the warm affection behind the insult, the way their picking is a safer way to express their passion for one another.

He thought he would be jealous of whoever finally managed to reel in Steve Harrington for good, and he is. The emotion is there, present in the snarling tangle of emotions that this encounter has left in him. One that he and Carol will have to slowly tease and pick out tonight when they’re home in bed. Trying to make sense of what each thread is and what it means for them. But the one bright pulsing thread he can make sense of is happiness. He’s happy for Steve, happy that he gets to see an old friend so at ease and obviously cared for.

And he’s sad that his time is up, his lunch hour so close to an end he’ll be late getting back to the office. Something he can already hear his Dad and fucking Greg giving him shit for. Which means they have to end their time here.

Steve walks them to the door, flips the sign to mark them closed for lunch.

“Congratulations again, you two,” he says, “I really am happy I can get to be a part of this with you all. Even if it’s a little different than we used to imagine.”

Carol reaches out for the both of them, puts her hand on his arm. Tommy finds that he’s the one who actually says, “We’re glad you found someone who makes you this happy, dude. You deserve it.”

“Yeah, he’s alright most of the time.” It's said with such fondness it becomes a declaration. It’s hard to imagine how they thought they could ever be the something that could make Steve this happy. But maybe in a different life, under different circumstances it could have been.

There’s a minute where they all stand in the doorway. He wonders if they’re all afraid that this might be the last time they see each other, speak to one another, until Steve is delivering the cake on the day of the wedding. Maybe it’s just him, he was the one who pushed back the hardest after things ended.

Someone finally gives in and pushes the door open. It’s TONG a death toll for their current conversation. But it also sends a jolt through Steve, he straightens to his full height like a shock has gone through him. “Here,” he says, “here, um.” He digs around in his apron until he finds a pen and a receipt pad. Jots down something before tearing it off and putting it in Tommy’s hands, “It's our home number, in case you have any cake emergencies or something.”

They really can’t stay any longer.

Carol takes the note, better at keeping track of these things than Tommy is. It’s hard to know if they’ll actually use it, maybe after they talk about it, but if they do she’ll be the one to do it. She’s always been braver than him.

There’s no way of guaranteeing anything but the fact that they’ll have a cake on the table on their wedding day. But he hopes that Steve might stay for the ceremony once he brings it, he can even bring Eddie if that’s what gets him there. 

Alone in his car, Tommy lets himself take a minute to think about Steve Harrington one last time. He isn’t going to get what he wanted as a kid. Doubts that he’ll ever be as close to Steve as he’d been in childhood, too much time has passed and too much has changed.

But there’s an opportunity to get to know Steve Munson, and he isn't going to pass it up. Even if he doesn’t know how to name a bakery.

[desiresloki]

hello, sexies!!! soft!Billy hargrove yet again. This might be a little OOC of him but I'm just brainrotting. I need something soft. This is part two of robbers. Initially, this was named “Robbers : 2.” a part two to my previous drabble ( here ) but whilst writing somewhere down the line, I wrote something similar to a lyric from cinnamon girl and I went “😯” SO TADAAA!!! ( totally sooooooo original ) I just wanna be loved. I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. p.s thank you to all of my friends <3

trigger warnings: alcohol. No smut in this one, sexies </3 . fluff fluff, and a lil bit angst? lots of fluff because I'm a fluffy person. smoking. ( idk y'all )

Cinnamon girl

The sky was dark blue, a hint of grey and faintly thunderous. Perhaps, the thunder was from her beating heart when she left the motel bed, picked up her scattered clothes, wore them quietly and hesitantly as he was in deep slumber. He didn’t look like an asshole, but she knew better than to stay here and hand her heart over to him on a silver platter. She took one more glance at him and thanked god silently that he was facing her. The flimsy blanket covered the lower half of his body, as he hugged a pillow; dreaming of her. She admired the messy blonde curls falling over his forehead, like a beach wave for how curly they were. His mouth slightly agape, inhaling and exhaling air. He looked like a dream and for that, she cannot stay. Her soul begged her to stay, but by then she had already left the motel and from afar, she could see the sun peeking from the horizon and it painted the sky in beautiful orange hues. At first, she didn’t move, she stood there and wondered. She hoped things would be different the moment he pulled her in his embrace, and she stayed there to relish the feeling of his arm around her waist, holding her as though she was glass, gently but then harsh to indulge himself in her scent, Let her be glass, let her break in his very soul, and he’s still hold her just as fiercely. Let her hurt him because if that’s the only way they’ll have this then so be it. That’s what his affection felt like. Painfully pleasant.

She got home as quickly as she could, thanking the gods that the motel wasn’t too far away from her house and lucky her that this was a small town. Still, she made sure that no one saw her for Billy’s sake, knowing how brash Neil could get and she wouldn’t wish anything bad upon Billy. She sneaked into her house quietly, and got into her bedroom. She took off her clothes, knowing it’s a good idea to get rid of the cheap motel smell, and sex, mostly his cologne that lingers around her being and she couldn’t hate it. She tried when she showered but there were still remnants of it when she stepped out and she missed him then. She missed him when she stepped out of that room but her pride was important. It must be an expensive cologne. She thought. She got dressed, ignored this gnawing feeling in her stomach as she rode her bike to school. When she reached school, Steve was there at the entrance, he saw her and jogged towards her. The boy furrowed his eyebrows.

“Where’s Billy?”

“Home.”

“You didn’t call me?”

“I knew you’d be here already.” She shrugged her shoulders, and Steve knew better than to push the situation out of her. It won’t do him any good because this girl could really hold it in, though she was bound to break when the time comes. They walked into school together before parting their ways with small goodbyes when the bell rang, they both had different classes throughout the day unlike her and Billy, where they shared two classes. History and maths. She waited for him at her locker, pretending to check her schedules, but he didn’t walk in. Did it anger him that much?

She shut her lockers, walking towards her class with the thoughts of him lingering in the back of her mind. She remembered the day she found him behind the school building, leaning against the tree and smoking the weed that Eddie Munson sold around school. She didn't judge the metalhead, people do what they gotta do to survive.

“Hey there, doll.”

She only narrowed her eyes at him as a response before walking to the other side to smoke her cigarette. Back then, she found his presence terribly annoying. His voice was like chalk scratching against the blackboard and she also constantly got into arguments with him regarding his behaviour towards her dear friend.

Unknowingly to her, her soul had found something she didn't know she needed. Serenity. When in secret, when no one is around, Billy has a different side of him. It took some time for that side to resurface but the first time she saw it was when he brought out his “Tears For Fears” cassette in the car. She pressed her lips to conceal her laughter, he glanced at her and rolled his eyes then.

“what?”

“what, what?”

“you tell no one.”

She told no one about it. ( Steve doesn't count. )

The memories vanished when his laugh entered the packed classroom, with one annoyed teacher at how late everyone was.

She looked away from the window when he walked into history. They held eye contact for a millisecond but felt as though it was more than that. It felt like the world slowed momentarily, everything else drowned in the background and all she could hear was the whispers of her heart to go to him and engulf him in the hug she yearns for but she sat there without so much as moving an inch. He didn’t want to look away from her just yet but a friend patted his back. He blinked, going to his seat. A table away from her. She inhaled shakily and brought her attention to their teacher. She puts up that facade again, a stoic face throughout the whole day unless she was with her best friend, Steve Harrington.

That only fuels Billy’s confusion since he woke up alone in the motel room. He woke up shortly after she left, he wore his jeans before opening the door to an empty road. The sun was shining brightly, he was late. Evidently late to school as well, but luckily he got there before Neil woke up. Max knew, but she didn’t say anything. If anyone saw anything first, it was Max. She saw his friendship with their neighbour blossoming. Like a moonflower because every night, he’d go to her porch and smoke a cigarette or two as they talk about whatever that is on their mind and for the first time in a long, long time, Max saw a smile form on his lips. It was faint, you’d have to squint to see it properly. She also knew that none of them would ever admit it because of the fear of the unknown.

Billy himself refuses to acknowledge it. He buried those feelings deep within himself when his mother abandoned him. When he called her and pleaded for her to come back but she left him in the dirt. What once was a boy with a tender heart hardened gradually, layer by layer. All he was capable of was resentment. No one taught him what love was, he didn’t know it existed until he found himself drawn to her, but all of it vanished as quickly as it appeared before his eyes, as though he was seeing a fleeting shadow, or perhaps a glimpse of what could’ve been. Therefore, none of them would give their hearts to each other even if their souls weeped for it. The loneliness of both worlds consumed them leisurely. They got used to it whilst playing a character, but beneath the masks they wear, there lingers a girl with sunlight in her eyes and a boy who dreams of california beach. Unbeknownst to them that both were what their souls were yearning for, last night was proof enough but neither listened to their hearts until the night that unfurls above these two lost souls.

She sat outside on her porch in her pyjamas with a cup of tea beside her on the wooden plank. She had a lit up cigarette between her forefinger and middle. It’s not always her to come out for a smoke but she seemed to need it today because she may have lost a dear friend with one drunken move. She brought the cigarette to her lips and inhaled the nicotine before exhaling it through her nose. Nights like this, he would come out to drink a beer or so with her. Her mother didn’t mind Billy, she was quite fond of the curly haired boy. But he didn’t come out of his house. She sat there, watching his house in front of her and she made peace with it. It was supposed to happen, so she thought. The door opened, he stood there with two bottles of beer in one hand. Her heart would've jumped out, she swore. He was in his usual white sleeveless top, and black shorts. He looked like a mess, quite literally. His hair was sticking out in places she had never seen before, his eyes once filled with cockiness were replaced with sadness, and a hint of hope. Her eyes travelled down and there was a tent in his pocket. A pack of cigarette, and that very sight made her heart leap out of relief. A second chance.

She blinked her eyes when he closed the door, ( as gently, to not wake his father. ) and her breath left her lungs when he walked towards her. Just like every time, he took them away selfishly, that bastard.

She gulped her saliva when he extended his hand out, giving her a bottle. Her confused eyes never left his dull ones. Her eyebrows pressed together, silently begging him to leave her but at the same time to goddamn hold her without hurting her very soul. His eyes held promises, they held the stars that he'd give her if he wasn't such a fuck up.

“I couldn't sleep,” Hargrove spoke softly, his voice cracked lightly and she smiled faintly.

“Sit with me then, hargrove?” she asked — begged. Who was Billy to deny such a pretty girl? He sat down beside her after she took her bottle and they didn't say anything else. You can never deny what your heart wants, no soul is ever that strong.

“I won't hurt you, you know?” The boy spoke, and she giggled softly.

“How do you know that I won't hurt you?”

“you like me too much,”

“get over yourself, bee.”

He smirked, she rolled her eyes and then they faced each other. Each back resting on the wooden rail. She dropped her cigarette bud into her cup and sipped her beer, looking up at the stars, and he simply looked at her. He never cracked before a girl, but she brought out sides of him that were locked away.

“Don't leave next time?” Billy tilted his head, trying to read the pretty girl. He's done it last night, and he wants to do it again. She was far from him just as she is close to him at this very moment. The girl sighed, the faint smile still on her lips as she looked back at him. Then she realised something that made her heart cry, and her smile falters. The boy before her was wholly different, he was vulnerable and just as lost as she is. His eyes brighter than ever, his face softer, and his body timid. In ways she had never seen him, not even last night. He was the young boy that called for his mother, and the same very boy was calling for her.

She scoot closer to him, and she could hear the slight shudder of his breath escaping his lips. Her gentle hand raised up, brushing a strand of his hair and tucks it behind his ear. He seemed almost scared but not of her, of what will happen next. His eyes never left hers since he arrived and he wasn't planning to look away any time soon. How could she be so blind? It was him all along, the boy that had given his heart over to her on a silver platter, the same very boy that never asked for much but just not to leave.

Billy sat forward and he took her hand that was previously on his cheek and then he brought them to his lips, giving her a chaste kiss before she gave herself to him. Be damned if this isn't right, but it felt right. His lips against hers, it felt like she had the stars in the palm of her hands.

[slytherinshua]

+1 CUTENESS

genre. fluff warnings. none. pairing. so mun x fem!reader. wc. 612. a/n. from this req by @blue-jisungs!!

“What are you doing?”

“Shh, just focus on the movie.” You smiled, turning So Mun’s head to look back at the TV screen. You were situated in his lap, but instead of paying attention to the movie currently playing, you were more engrossed in Mun’s curly hair. 

You had probably spent dozens of hours playing with it, just running your fingers through the soft curls. But you could never get over it. So Mun was just so pretty, and that especially included his hair. It smelled like his shampoo and framed his face so perfectly. You had no idea how it was so soft all the time— maybe it was a counter thing?

So Mun had let you put his hair in a ponytail in the past, and even braid it when you begged him enough, but today you had a different plan. You had been recently trying different hair accessories and had impulsively bought a pack of little colourful butterfly clips. You couldn’t lie and say that your intention of this movie night had been to actually watch the movie— no, you were desperate to see how cute Mun would look with colourful clips in his hair.

You had already snuck one into his hair, almost catching his attention. But he seemed completely relaxed now, and utterly unaware of your masterplan. You gently clipped a blue butterfly to one of his curls, squinting to see what the best placement for a pink one would be.

“Y/n.”

“Hm?”

“You’re not even paying attention to the movie anymore.” So Mun pointed out, a small pout forming on his face.

“I was!” You insisted.

Mun raised an eyebrow, “Really? What’s the last thing that happened?” 

Ah, so this is where he would catch you in your act…

“Okay, maybe I wasn’t paying full attention to it.” You mumbled.

So Mun giggled, “You could’ve just said if you weren’t interested in watching.”

“Well, it’s not that I’m uninterested in watching, but…”

“But?”

You held out your hand, one red and one yellow butterfly clip still resting in your palm, the last two that you hadn’t been able to sneak into his hair in time.

“I got these last week, but everything always looks better on you than it does on me, so…” You trailed off, giving him a guilty smile. He stared at you for a few seconds before raking a hand up to his hair and feeling around for the clips.

“Cute.” He whispered.

Minutes later, the movie had been turned off and the lights turned back on (which helped immensely for figuring out the proper placement of the butterflies). So Mun sat across from you as you took out the awkwardly placed clips and repositioned them to better spots. You couldn’t help but blush as you did it— Mun seemed to be so content to stare at you as you worked.

“Stop staring.” You muttered.

A smile crept onto his face, “But I like you.”

“Is that why you’re letting me put clips in your hair?” You asked with flushed cheeks, placing the last butterfly in his hair as he hummed approvingly. “All done.” You grabbed your hand mirror and held it up for him to look.

He giggled, “I look ridiculous.”

“You look cute!” You countered, but stopped when you caught Mun’s gaze again. “Why are you staring again? I feel self-conscious.” You complained half-jokingly. 

“I’m trying to see who’s cuter.” He said simply, eyes squinting between you and the mirror.

“You have plus 1 cuteness for the clips, but who wins?”

“You.”

Your cheeks turned a brighter shade of pink at the comment, “Why?”

“Plus 3 cuteness for the blush.”

↳ k-drama taglist: @yeonjuns-redhair,, @wolfmoonmusic,, @cha3w0n-hearts (abp & tuc only),, @tempobaekh (tuc only),, @edensgardenn

[songsofbat]

what's the use of feeling what's the use of feeling oh what's the use of feeling blue (or, mun feels like writing corus but they're already in a roleplay..)

There's someone in their mind.

Corus-Calla-Corvus is... aware of that. There's something wrong and they can feel themselves flicker in and out of consciousness.

It's their minds eye that leads them onwards, stumbling blindly so they can grip onto hand rails and get rid of their mistakes.

Their flaws.

But every now and then they sort of...stop.

Stare at their phone. Or the wall. Not quite the wall. The emotions on it- crawling, crawling, ever crawling. A web.

They track their hand over twisting strands.

They're so tired.

There's so much to do.

Poda's going to make sure Signal doesn't... stop them, they suppose. So at least they won't have to worry about that.

"I don't understand." says the thing that sounds like a funeral dirge. "Why are you checking on people? The only one who wants you around is the white haired child. He doesn't seem to need you around."

It doesn't say Ceph doesn't care, at least. Maybe ignoring its words and burning it had given it the hint.

Their body flicks through different screens. The other people who went by Corvid. Vice. The bats. Carnival. Morgan? No, the same. The same.

"You're quite odd," it continues, and there's an upturned quality to its face, a vague widening to the eyes that almost seems like genuine interest. Maybe it is. Maybe it's not.

Emotions around it are.. faint. Hard to feel.

"You do not interact with her because she does not want you around. Yet, you watch over her. What exactly do you gain from this? You clearly have no intentions of interfering." They want to throttle it.

So they do.

It stares at them with eyes red like (her) hair.

It doesn't stop.

It won't shut up.

"You're the same as I am," it prattles on. "Wouldn't it be logical for you to either not care about her entirely, or do something about it?"

Why can't the dirge be playing for it?

"It's quite easy to change people's minds, you know!"

Disgusting.

She doesn't want me around, they say, perhaps. Their mouth isn't moving. I'm not like... (Jacyn? Not like you? Not like some obsessed stalker? ) I'll respect that.

I annoy her, they continue. She was tolerating me. I should not disturb her.

...somehow, those emotionless red eyes feel judgemental.

They don't know why they're talking to it.

...maybe because it looks like them. Corus-Calla-Corvus-Corvid, shifted off.

Red eyes. White skirt. Not quite them.

Requiem's fragment stares.

Not quite a fragment.

Something worse, perhaps. Sinking into their consciousness and refusing to leave.

Poda says it refuses to be removed- but that's okay. When they do a proper fixing this time- they'll drag it down with them.

It's okay to talk to it. It's okay to humour it.

It's just... keeping it occupied. Until Poda can get Signal to leave. Until they finally get to fix this mess of a mind.

"You're being quite illogical."

How so.

"You aren't friends."

...and?

"You wish to be friends with her."

Selfish.

"But you want, anyway."

Doesn't mean they have to act on it.

"You wish to be friends. It is causing you...quite some despair. Would it not be easier to simply cut off those feelings?"

If they cut off emotions for other people, they wouldn't be able to protect them.

"Your friendship with her was detrimental to you."

Scroll, scroll. They don't care.

"Forgetting her entirely would be wise. She doesn't care for you, after all."

No more forgetting. No more running. The truth burns, and they'll let it.

"Are you harming yourself?"

The truth is needed. It allows them to make the best possible decisions.

"Are you harming yourself?"

The truth is useful. They can shut off the emotions when they've fixed themselves.

"Are you hurt-"

Shut up.

"Are-"

Shut up.

" Shut

up.

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

Corus-Calla-Corvus-Corvid doesn't deserve to exist.

They're doing what they must.

They're not going to run from the truth.

Gotham doesn't need Corvid as a hero.

Gotham needs tools. Weapons. Shields.

Useful things.

( Once upon a time, there was a Gala. And you learnt how to smile just right, even if you didn't mean it. Once upon the time there were galas. You learnt how to be soft around the edges, pleasant and good. Once upon a time, there was an actor. They were capable of convincing people to not waste their time on them. )

" ?", it asks, and the question sounds unreal.

Because you never hear anybody asking that question in real life.

[aeongstarss]

a cherry petal / somun x fem!reader

a/n: hi again! this is my second fic I've written! this one is more of a one shot. I hope you all enjoy! comments and requests are open!

warnings: none

genre/type: fluff, y/n, fast pace, unexpected first date

wc: 1k

title track: no problem - dvwn

You wake up from your deep sleep and look out the window. It’s a bright day. The sun is out, the sky is a vibrant blue and birds are singing. You reach for your phone to remind your friend, Hana, about your day at the aquarium together. 

“Hana! Today is the aquarium! Are you getting ready?” 

No answer after 10 minutes. You jump in the shower assuming she hasn’t woken up yet. After your shower you check your phone once more and see her notification. 

“Y/N. I’m really sorry but I woke up this morning with a pounding headache. I don’t think I’ll be able to make it.” 

You sigh at the lit-up screen and set your phone down. You check your tickets to see if they’re refundable. They’re not. You spent $35 each on these tickets, you’re just not not gonna go. You throw on some light makeup and an outfit to match the weather. The aquarium is about a 45-minute bus ride away. So you grab your purse and head out the door, without Hana by your side. 

You reach the bus stop, you look up and see the bus doors hissing open and you stand to go find a seat. You step up the steep stairs and find that the bus is packed. You find the closest open seat you can. You sit down and throw your head back, looking out the window, preparing to put in your headphones. Just then, you feel a weight sit beside you and hear a man's voice yelling in a whisper shout. 

“Are you canceling on me? I’m already on the bus!” silence follows “Alright, I understand. I hope you feel better.” the voice says. You think to yourself, "wow is everyone getting sick and avoiding the aquarium today?" You notice an obvious annoyment in the man's loud sigh. You turn to him, in an attempt to start small talk over your similar situation. “Friend cancel?” you speak up. The man jerks his neck towards you and nods with his eyes looking down. “Me too. She said she had a headache this morning.” His eyes look up and widen, “My friend said the exact same thing! Maybe there’s a virus going around.” You laugh, “I was just thinking that.”

The 45 minute bus ride passes and you arrive at the aquarium. You step off the bus, and the man steps off behind you. “Well, it was nice to meet you! Uh..” He giggles, “Somun. You can call me Mun.” he says. You smile, “Mun... I’m Y/N. I hope you have a good time while you're here! These tickets weren’t cheap.” you say. Somun lets out an awkward laugh and looks at the ground, “Well uhm… since both of our friends canceled. I was wondering if you maybe… wanted to go together?” he says shyly. Your face grows pink and you pause for a moment. You eventually nod with a smile. Somun smiles and motions for you two to walk to the entrance. 

After about 2 hours of walking around the huge aquarium; you two reach his favorite exhibit, the jellyfish. While walking beside you, he points at the glowing jellyfish. You must admit, they are beautiful. He smiles at them and you two walk side by side admiring them. As you walk, you feel a brush against your hand. It took you by surprise and you look down and see his hand brushing yours. Your face grows pink once again. You return the action to him, hoping he takes the hint. He stops in his tracks, and looks at you with his hand out. You look at his open hand and slowly intertwine your fingers with his. You smile while thinking to yourself “Thank you Hana for getting a sudden headache.” curling in your lips on excitement.

As the trip comes to an end, you are at the main attraction. Outside, there is a extravegant garden and waterfall, along with a 75 foot tall cherry blossom tree. You and Somun walk hand in hand to the tree and admire the spring decorations placed upon the exhibit. You stare at the trees' beauty in awe with glistening eyes. You turn to Somun and smile and sigh. “Thank you Mun. Maybe our friends canceling on us was supposed to happen.” you say through a laugh. He smiles and nods in agreement. You two lock eye contact while standing under the large tree. He lets go of your grasp and moves his hand to your face, closing his eyes. You reciprocate his action and close your eyes, leaning in. Your lips clash, sharing a soft, passionate kiss. The wind blows, making the petals fall atop you. You pull away for a moment to smile, but before you get the chance, Somun pulls you back to him. 

You two pull away and laugh. Somun grabs your hand and guides you back towards the entrance of the garden. 

You and Somun get off at your stop and exchange numbers. You smile at him, and hug him goodbye. You wave him goodbye and start to walk away. About 30 seconds into your walk you hear footsteps running behind you. You turn around and suddenly feel Somun’s arms wrapped around you, clashing his lips with yours. You pull away and laugh. “I just wanted to kiss you again.” Somun says. You roll your eyes playfully and smack his chest. “Goodnight Somun.” you say. He laughs, “Goodnight, Y/N.” You smile and make your way back to your apartment. 

You enter the apartment and take off your makeup while slipping into comfortable pajamas. You plop onto your bed, reaching your phone to text Hana. 

“Hana.. Thank you for having a headache. I just had the best first date.”

You sigh, but this time out of happiness and excitement. You put your phone down for about a second until you hear it vibrate. You turn your head to look at it and see a text from Somun. "Coffee tomorrow?"

[blueharborhq]

Hello, Blue Harbor! Happy Monday, and more importantly, happy ( almost ) fall! As you may have already noticed, with the changing of the seasons, us admins have decided to do some housekeeping on the main. Over the weekend, we installed a brand new theme with matching graphics to better represent the time of year! We think this is a wonderful idea to keep things fresh, not only for us but for you all as well, so do expect similar updates every few months or so moving forward. For now, have a look around the new blog! If there's any questions about where a specific page is located, don't hesitate to reach out and we'll point you in the right direction! That's not all, though! Alongside this housekeeping, we also figured that it was an excellent time to do some general maintenance, including but not limited to: updating our guidelines, reorganizing the news blog, adding fresh locations, and more! We ask that you please continue to read through this post in its entirety to familiarize yourself with all that may have changed.

GUIDELINE ADJUSTMENTS —

Starting on Sunday, September 22nd, we will no longer be accepting hiatus requests on the day of activity checks. While generally we have considered ourselves to be pretty lenient with hiatus requests, as we completely understand that this group is a hobby and should come secondary to real life commitments, we also understand that it may be unfair to other members if we continue to allow hiatus requests at the last minute. This is not to say that we will be striking the hammer down completely on this, since sometimes unexpected circumstances lead to dips in our online presence, but we simply ask that you uphold communication with us if you find yourself needing a hiatus, activity extension, etc! We're still here to help, and are more than willing to come to a solution so long as we're kept in the loop!

Additionally, we will no longer be allowing members to take up multiple ( 2+ ) wanted connections for the same mun. This does not apply for connections that currently exist within the game, but rather for character applications moving forward. We absolutely love that everyone is so interested in connections — to be entirely honest, we've never seen a group so eager to snatch them up, and we couldn't be more thankful for it — but in an effort to move forward with our inclusivity expectations, we'd like to implement this rule to further incentivize all members to branch out of their comfort zones!

OPERATION ADJUSTMENTS —

In regards to the Blue News blog, the weekly column will instead shift to the monthly column, posting on the first of every month. This ensures that we as admins can take the time to cook up new ideas and keep things fun and fresh for everyone, quality over quantity! This also gives you guys, our members, more freedom to make submissions of your own. If you have any submissions that you would like to make throughout the month, do not hesitate to fill out the form and it will be included in the next issue!

The weekly radio playlists will return, but biweekly, starting today! No big spiel on this, we simply have regained the time to put them together! The link to the playlist can be found here if you'd like to listen.

MISCELLENIOUS ADJUSTMENTS —

We've added four new locations! Including a lover's lane, country club, an impending multicultural institute and the renovation of one of Blue Harbor's favorites ...

Ahead of the last announcement, we have decided to re-enable the anonymous feature. However, please continue to be mindful. Questions and comments are perfectly acceptable, but outright rude messages will not be tolerated. Both of us continue to be open to kind and constructive conversation, but still withhold the right to disable the feature in the future if need be. We deeply appreciate your patience and understanding!

We have also decided that there will be a temporary ban on two careers: lawyers and writers, due to overabundance. This change will be listed on our application for future reference, and will be announced once it's taken off.

Last, but certainly not least, we will be expanding our mun count to 35! We are so honored and grateful to have kept up with being at full capacity for this long, and thought it'd be best to open a few spots to introduce new players to our lovely little community!

Thank you all so much for your patience and understanding, once again, as we implement these updates. Please toss this post a like after you've read it, and as usual, if there are any questions, comments or concerns, you're more than welcome to address them to the main.

[ofliterarynature]

TBR TAKEDOWN: Week 1 (June 2)

TLDR: I have too many unread books, and I’m asking tumblr to help me downsize. Pick one or none, we are keeping it simple and friendly! Book descriptions below the cut, see my pinned post for more info. Comments and questions welcome!

A collection of blue covers to start us off!

The Language of Thorns by Leigh Bardugo

Tbh I’ve kind of given up on Bardugo at this point, especially the grishaverse, but I like myths/folktales.

Love speaks in flowers. Truth requires thorns.

Travel to a world of dark bargains struck by moonlight, of haunted towns and hungry woods, of talking beasts and gingerbread golems, where a young mermaid's voice can summon deadly storms and where a river might do a lovestruck boy's bidding but only for a terrible price.

Inspired by myth, fairy tale, and folklore, #1 New York Times—bestselling author Leigh Bardugo has crafted a deliciously atmospheric collection of short stories filled with betrayals, revenge, sacrifice, and love.

Perfect for new readers and dedicated fans, these tales will transport you to lands both familiar and strange—to a fully realized world of dangerous magic that millions have visited through the novels of the Grishaverse.

When I’m Gone Look for Me in the East by Quan Barry

I really enjoyed the author’s first book! I admit I’m less drawn to this one based just on the description, but not uninterested. The most recent addition to my shelves this week.

From the acclaimed author of We Ride Upon Sticks comes a luminous novel that moves across a windswept Mongolia, as estranged twin brothers make a journey of duty, conflict, and renewed understanding.

Tasked with finding the reincarnation of a great lama—a spiritual teacher who may have been born anywhere in the vast Mongolian landscape—the young monk Chuluun sets out with his identical twin, Mun, who has rejected the monastic life they once shared. Their relationship will be tested on this journey through their homeland as each possesses the ability to hear the other’s thoughts.

Proving once again that she is a writer of immense range and imagination, Quan Barry carries us across a terrain as unforgiving as it is beautiful and culturally varied, from the western Altai mountains to the eerie starkness of the Gobi Desert to the ancient capital of Chinggis Khaan. As their country stretches before them, questions of faith—along with more earthly matters of love and brotherhood—haunt the twins.

Are our lives our own, or do we belong to something larger? When I’m Gone, Look for Me in the East is a stunningly far-flung examination of our individual struggle to retain our convictions and discover meaning in a fast-changing world, as well as a meditation on accepting what simply is.

The Assassin’s Curse by Cassandra Rose Clarke

I don’t know? I’ve had these for so long. But it’s got sailing ships, pirates, and assassins, so…

Ananna of the Tanarau abandons ship when her parents try to marry her off to an allying pirate clan: she wants to captain her own boat, not serve as second-in-command to her handsome yet clueless fiance. But her escape has dire consequences when she learns the scorned clan has sent an assassin after her. And when the assassin, Naji, finally catches up with her, things get even worse. Ananna inadvertently triggers a nasty curse -- with a life-altering result. Now Ananna and Naji are forced to become uneasy allies as they work together to break the curse and return their lives back to normal. Or at least as normal as the lives of a pirate and an assassin can be.