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ellethespaceunicorn · 8 months

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Something Old, Something New

Title: Something Old, Something New

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Nick Fowler x Reader

Fandom: The 355

Word Count: 9.5K (whoopsie)

Summary: Your childhood best friend invites you to your old vacation spot for her wedding, and you have been catching up with your first crush: her recently divorced big brother Nick.

Warnings: infidelity, divorce, recreational drug use (marijuana), drinking, mutual pining, pet names (Gumdrop, baby), praise kink, cunnilingus, unprotected p-in-v sex, mention of bodily fluids (creampie), public sex, if I forgot anything please tell me

A/N1: My tiles for @thebasementspouses VOTM Nick Fowler BINGO were: divorced, best friend’s brother, writer’s choice(prompt #802 from @creativepromptsforwriting), drunken confession, public sex. BINGO card at end of story.

A/N2: I have been working on this story for weeks and I really hope I have done the Nick Fowler fandom justice. It's my first time, and hopefully not the last time, writing for Nick. I thoroughly enjoyed writing him. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

Three Months Ago

The cardstock was rigid in your hands, the envelope discarded seconds ago. The confetti in the envelope litters around your Chucks as you bring your attention to the words embossed upon the invitation. You had been waiting for this day ever since you received the Save the Date announcement.

You ran your finger over the pretty lettering, its raised borders were a nice tactile touch. The peaceful pink, whispered white, and mellow merlot of the flowers against a hint of golden accents was a beautiful choice. Not too feminine, nor too masculine.

Turning the invitation over, you found more information.

‘Accommodations will be completely covered for your 8-night stay at The Ocracoke Harbor Inn by the family of the Bride. You will be staying in the fully-furnished Treasure Chest Cottage. Amenities include full-service linens, complimentary wireless Internet, and guest boat docking. Guests have access to a sound-side beach. Password for WI-FI given upon check-in. Nonsmoking, no pets.’

Leave it to the Fowlers to go nuts and rent out the entire inn for their only daughter’s wedding, you thought to yourself. You were not surprised at all, growing up as a rich girl’s best friend had its perks.

As if on cue, your phone started to play the opening notes of Losing You by Solange to signal an incoming call. Pulling your phone out, you smiled seeing Deanne’s name. You clicked Accept and raised the phone to your ear.

“Hello to the future Mrs. Alexander!” Your cheery demeanor not letting on how jealous you were of your friend’s impending nuptials.

Euphonious laughter rings through the earpiece and you can’t help but join in.

“Girl, can you believe it? I am about to tie the knot, be off the market, and settle down. I’m only 12% nervous about everything so I’m doing great,” she snorted, and suddenly you were a bit less jealous if this kind of anxiety is what she had to deal with, “Anyway, um, I was giving you a call because I wanted to ask if you got your invitation and I also wanted to see if I could save myself time in waiting for your R.S.V.P. and bug and pester you until you agree to let my parents pay for you to come spend a week with us and come to my wedding and–”

“Deanne! Stop with the run-on sentence, doll. Did you think I was gonna pass up this opportunity? God, I love that you chose Ocracoke as your wedding destination. So many vacations were spent getting into all kinds of trouble,” you recalled, images of splashing in the water as kids and lounging on the beach as teens replayed in your mind.

“Yeah. Hey, when we were little girls planning our dream weddings, I was serious when I said I wanted it on the beach on Ocracoke Island. But not in the summer because of bugs and heat, but in the winter so we get that beautiful off-season fresh air,” Deanne mused.

“Dee, it’s gonna be gorgeous. I cannot wait to see you in your stunning dress walking down that aisle. Just know that since I am your oldest friend, you pretty much owe me the bouquet,” you laughed, only half-joking.

“As far as I’m concerned, it’s already yours,” she bantered, clearing her throat before speaking again, “So, I also called because I wanted to vent a little, if that’s okay?”

“It’s always okay. You doing alright?” you asked, now worried that your friend was in trouble.

“Yeah, no, I’m fine. I have an update on Nick and Tori, though,” she paused, allowing your mind to wander.

The mention of your first crush’s name sent a shiver down your back. Many a moment had been wasted thinking about his pretty smile and grayish-blue eyes. You’d liked Nick before you knew you even liked boys. He was the heartthrob that trumped every teen dream of every other girl in America’s heart. In your mind, he was the closest to perfect you could imagine.

You responded, “Oh?”

“So, their divorce is finalized. My big brother is officially a divorcé. I would have thought that a man who was with someone for so long might be partying it up right now. But he says he’s focusing on work and, I don’t know. I just want him to be happy. And like, he’s getting divorced as I’m getting married and it feels so weird. It doesn’t seem fair,” she lamented.

“Dee, come on. You know Nicky wouldn’t want you to think like that. He loves you. You’re his favorite sibling,” you jested, trying to lighten the mood.

“Ha ha. I’m his only sibling. I better be his favorite,” Dee chuckled, happy to be distracted, “So that brings me to you, Miss Missy. Last I heard, you were dating some engineer guy? Do I get to meet him soon?”

You inwardly cringed, hopes dashed of being able to avoid the topic of your relationship status. Things with Curtis kind of fizzled out when you found his tongue down an intern’s throat. You had been bringing him dinner since he’d complained about the late nights at the office.

Turns out he was hungry for more than your baked ziti.

You explained all this to Dee, remembering the look on Curtis’ face when you poured the prepared food into his lap. He was so shook, it was beautiful.

“I didn’t want to waste all that food but he looked wonderful with my pasta all over his shirt and pants. He honestly deserved it. It was his favorite shirt too. I hope those stains never come out,” you huffed, feeling like you were right back in that office again.

“I have never been so proud of you. I wish I could put hot sauce in his underwear for hurting my girl. I’m sure if I just had a few minutes, I could come up with something more diabolical than that. But it’s what I have at a moment’s notice,” she retorted.

One thing you could always count on Dee for? Getting angry for you and using her beautiful and educated mind to come up with some way to make the person who slighted you pay for their misdeeds. It was both adorable and super embarrassing to have her tiny frame looking up into some bully’s face pointing her finger at them.

“Well, I appreciate your offer, but he is so not worth the energy. You have much better things to think about, like your wedding day. This is your cue to stop worrying about me, Dee,” you advised, a stern tone coloring your words.

“Fine, I will stop worrying about you out loud. You got it, girl. Anyway, I won’t hold you. Talk soon, ok? I miss you,” she said, and you could envision her getting bleary-eyed.

“I miss you too, Dee. We’ll get together soon, I promise,” you sighed, feeling guilty for letting your friendship dwindle over the years.

“I’ll hold you to it. Bye, babe,” she hummed.

“Bye.” You hang up the phone and close your eyes. Visions of what Dee will look like in her wedding dress cloud your thoughts. Little snippets of grayish-blue eyes and dark brown hair seep in and you can almost hear his laugh again. You open your eyes, blinking away the mental images that brought you joy for a moment.

‘This is fine,’ you thought to yourself. Yeah, totally. You’re only going to see your best friend from childhood get married, effectively ending your childhood with a pretty bow on top. You also were only going to be with the biggest crush you ever had for like, an entire week.

And he’s single.

And probably needy.

And...you had better get your jaw up off the floor if you were going to get anything done.

Three months is enough time to get your brain, your body, and your emotions in check before you make a fool out of yourself in front of your second family.

Right?

January 20th, 2024 – Day One

Standing on the deck of the Hatteras Ferry, you watch as Ocracoke Island comes into view. The sun is at its highest and you are thankful for your sunglasses shielding the the bright sunlight bouncing off the crystal clear waters. You can taste the salty air and you are instantly transported to memories of running around the decks of this ferry with Deanne and Nick while your mothers tried in vain to wrangle you all.

The island comes into view and you search the docks for a familiar face. Dee promised to meet you at the docks, but when you approach them she is nowhere to be found. You pull your luggage behind you as your shoulder bag decides to slide off.

Before it can hit the ground, it’s caught by the strap by a strong hand at the same time you reach out to grab it. You thank the kind stranger as you both stand to your full height and you are face-to-face with a grown-ass Nicholas Fowler. He says something and you don’t hear hide nor hair of what the hell he just said, you look at him and break into a smile and he chuckles and speaks again.

“I hope you don’t mind Dee got me to pick you up. She had some wedding stuff to do. I wasn’t listening,” he explains, adjusting his sunglasses and putting your bag on his shoulder. He gestures over to his black Lamborghini Urus.

Once you walk over, he puts your shoulder bag in the back seat. You step closer to him to hand him your rolling luggage. You are mesmerized as his strong forearms flex when he puts everything in the SUV.

You clear your throat and look around when he looks back at you, catching you watching him. He closes the back door and guides you to the passenger side, opening your door for you.

“Oh, you’re a full-service driver today, huh?” you joke, stepping past him. Your platform espadrilles clacking on the asphalt. Adjusting your strapless sundress, you climb in.

“Whatever service you require, Gumdrop,” he replies with a smile, making sure you are comfortable before closing your door.

That fucking nickname… He would call you gumdrop instead of your name more often than not. That’s all, he didn’t mean anything by it, right?

When you are both buckled in, you start the drive across the island. Comfortable conversation is easy between you two. It’s like you fall back into a safe space with him. You talk about old vacations, funny moments, and what you both are up to these days. Neither of you mentions either of your failed relationships and you can’t keep the smile off of your face.

“Hey, we still have an hour until check-in. You wanna grab a bite or go to the beach or something?” he suggests.

“Are you sure they’re not waiting for us?” you counter, wondering if it’s a good idea to have a little moment with Nick all to yourself.

“I’d rather ask for forgiveness than permission. No pressure, just a suggestion,” he presses, taking a second to look over at you and smile that smile that has had you in a chokehold most of your life.

After thinking about it for all of five seconds, you agree to have lunch at Plum Pointe Kitchen. You enjoy a generous helping of Drunken Chicken nachos while Nick gets the VooDoo Shrimp PO’Boy. You share half of your meal, and Nick refuses to let you pay for anything.

Making your way to the Ocracoke Harbor Inn after lunch, you finally meet up with everyone. Dee is in mid-conversation with someone when she sees you and Nick pull up into the parking lot. She walks over to you and pulls you into a very tight embrace. It’s like everything was chaos before you got here.

“Oh my goodness, I am so glad you are here. How was the trip? Did you eat? Did Nick bore you? I’m sorry that I couldn’t come and meet you, but we had a little mishap with the reservation for the hotel and then I thought I left my wedding dress at home, and then we–”

You cut off Dee before she can work herself into a frenzy again, “Dee! Breathe. You’re gonna be fine, I promise. And is that Matthew? Introduce me already, would you?” you encourage, trying to get your friend’s mind off of the previous debacle and onto the man walking over.

Dee introduces you to Matthew and he charms you with the way he dotes on Dee. He seems like the type to be able to handle her rambling and intense emotions. How he looks at her while she speaks makes you miss having someone look at you like that.

“Well, it’s just about 3 o’clock now. Let’s get checked in and settled, then we can get together later?” Matthew chimes in.

“Sounds good,” Nick agrees, turning to you, “Go ahead and leave your stuff in my car. I’ll take you to your cottage after we are all checked in.” You nod, trying to hide your excitement.

Once you are done with the receptionist, you get your key and the wifi password to your cottage. While waiting for everyone else to get done, you fiddle on your phone until Nick’s shadow looms over you. Looking up, you are greeted with his eyes no longer shielded by his sunglasses in the dim lobby.

“You ready, Gumdrop? We still have some time before Mom and Dad show up. And I think I remember Dee saying she would call when she was ready to go out,” he concludes, putting his hands in his pockets and rocking on his heels.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was nervous about something. But you don’t push.

“All set,” you say, smiling up at him feeling bold enough to wrap your arm around his while you walk out of the lobby.

Dee shouts after you to behave yourselves and tense up a bit while Nick chuckles, seemingly amused by his sister’s thinly veiled comment on two single adults being close. Damn them.

Nick opens the passenger side door for you again, closing it once you are safely inside. He drives to the Margaritaville Cottage where he will stay with his parents during the trip. He instructs you to stay in the car while he just drops his bags off and is back outside in a few minutes.

The next stop is your cottage, called the Treasure Chest. You snicker at the name, thinking it sounded more like a pirate-themed strip joint. When Nick asks what you’re laughing about, you tell him your thoughts on the name of where you are staying. The slow smile that spreads on his face makes you involuntarily clench your thighs, wondering what his days-old stubble would feel like between your legs.

He tilts his head just slightly at you, then turns back to the road, smile still intact. Luckily the drive is short as the cottages are fairly close to one another. Nick parks in the driveway and you both get out and stretch your legs. He comes around and grabs your shoulder bag and luggage, motioning for you to lead the way.

Walking up the steps to the door, you unlock it and are welcomed by the scent of fresh linen. The central air of the cottage is just this side of perfect and you drop your purse on the dining room table. Turning around, you see Nick walking into a room off of the living room.

“Holy shit, you got a King-sized bed,” he shouts from the bedroom.

Walking in, you sit at the foot of the bed next to Nick and start to untie your shoes. He follows suit and turns to you biting his lip, a question at the tip of his tongue.

Facing him, you ask, “What? Do I have something on my face?”

“No. I, uh...I’m surprised you haven’t asked yet,” he notes. At your confusion, he holds up his left ring finger. A band of untanned skin around the base clues you in that he’s talking about his divorce.

“Nicky, I would never make you talk about it. It can’t be easy in that situation. I mean, I only broke up with Curtis a few months ago and we were only together for six months. I couldn’t imagine how a divorce feels after how long you and Tori were together,” you insist, placing a hand on his knee.

He covers your hand with his and nods. “Mom and Dad are pretty good about it. They don’t ask me how I’m doing with that sad look in their eyes anymore. But Dee? Jesus, when I told her about the incident, she was out for blood. I had to end up calming her down. All because someone broke her big bro’s heart. Love her, but she can get a little carried away,” he finishes.

“This is not to make you feel like you need to share, but you mentioned “the incident” and now I’m curious. Feel free to tell me to shut the fuck up. But I caught Curtis with his tongue down another woman’s throat. I don’t know for sure how long it had been going on or if they had done anything else together, but I knew at that moment that I was done. I am worth more than that. And so are you, Nicky,” you encourage, feeling a bit of weight lift off your shoulders after finally talking about your breakup.

“My situation was similar. Tori had been cheating on me for the last two years of our marriage with her boss. I had a feeling something was up, just didn’t want to believe it was something like this,” he reveals, continuing, “But I am moving on, so to speak. I’m not holding out anymore for her to come crawling back to me with a sad story and all that. Even though I hope that she falls in a sinkhole.”

You both laugh and continue talking, taking your minds off of your breakups. You reminisce about all of the times you’ve stayed on the island during vacations. You giggle over dumb stories of you all as teens in high school, hiding weed from your parents and drinking on the beach til it was time to sneak back into the hotel.

You get an idea and you tell Nick to give you a minute before you go back into the living room to retrieve your purse. Coming back into the bedroom, you pull out a vape pen and wiggle it in front of Nick’s face, a devilish smirk on your lips.

“We’ll just take one hit each and we will be fine. Just a bit more mellow,” you offer, pulling him to the balcony off of the living room. You each occupy a wicker chair and you hand over the device.

“Gumdrop, you little devil,” he takes the pen from you and inhales, closing his eyes and holding the smoke in his lungs before letting it out. The smoke dissipates quickly and you can see the weight lift off of his shoulders. Handing it back to you, he exhales loudly and leans back in his chair.

Putting the tip in your mouth, you hit the button and inhale. Warm vapor fills you and you release the button, holding in the smoke for a beat and then letting it out toward the sky. You put the pen down on the table between you and fold your legs under you, letting your dress cascade down.

Sitting in companionable silence with Nick feels great. Neither of you feels the need to talk while you listen to the sounds of nature around you. People walking around the cottages, cars driving by, and the distant waves from Pamlico Sound make you wish you had gone to the beach earlier.

“Fuck, that was only one hit and I feel like my bones are made of jelly,” you remark, swaying to a song that isn’t playing with your eyes closed.

Nick looks over to you and smiles, “Must be jelly ‘cause jam don’t shake like that.”

You open your eyes and turn to him, your mouth twitches before you break out into uncontrollable laughter. Nick soon follows and you both are taken over by the giggles. You settle down soon enough, still feeling the buzzing calmness of being high.

“The world needs more people like you,” you beam.

“Nah, I like being unique,” he replies, his phone chiming. Picking up a video call from Dee, “Hey Sis.”

“Hey, me and Matt were gonna go for dinner and drinks, you in?” she asks.

“Yeah, that sounds...good,” Nick answers for himself while looking at you to get your answer.

“Ok, well get ready and meet us at Oyster Company. And tell my best friend that she is coming, no ifs, ands, or buts. See you both soon!” With that, she ends the call.

“So...our decision has been made for us. Do you need to change or anything?” Nick wonders, gesturing to your traveling attire.

“If I take this dress off, I am not going out. Besides, I like this dress. I think I look positively adorable. But I will change my shoes to something more comfortable,” you finish before Nick can comment on how he also likes your dress. You pick up the vape pen, make your way back to your luggage, and pull out some flat sandals.

Once you are ready, you make your way back outside and are surprised to see Dee and Matt parked on the street outside of your cottage. “We decided to pick you up. Matt is DD tonight, so we can all get a little loosey-goosey. Plus, I can always tell when Nick is high, so get in losers!”

Nick snorts, and you are mortified to be found out, but you quickly get over it once you are in the backseat of Matt’s Audi Q4. The short ride to the restaurant was spent with Nick’s left leg brushing against your right leg. He was either manspreading or he wanted to touch you and wanted to keep it under the radar.

Either way, you were excited to feel his warmth next to you.

When you make it to the restaurant, you sit at a high table and it almost feels like a double date. Especially when your waitress congratulates Dee and Matt on their wedding while remarking that you and Nick make a cute couple as well. Your face warms up and you suddenly feel like every eye is on you.

Nick comes to your rescue, answering the waitress with a smile, “My girl’s a bit shy, is all. Can we get a pitcher of beer for the table to start? And also two shots of Crown Royal Vanilla for me and the little lady. Thanks.”

If it was possible, you would have melted through the floor and evaporated, but instead, you just hide behind the menu until Nick pokes his head in.

“That wasn’t to embarrass you, I swear. But I got nervous that she was gonna try and flirt with me, so I dragged you under the proverbial bus with me,” he admits, his lopsided smile only making you want him more.

“Fine. You’ll just have to make it up to me,” you warn, a devious grin appearing on your face.

You put down your menu just as the waitress comes back with the drinks. Taking both shots, you hand one to Nick. Staring in each other’s eyes, you clink your shot glasses and then tap them on the table before taking the shot. The sweet burn of the liquor warms you from within while Nick’s eyes on you melt whatever nerves you had previously.

A cleared throat breaks your trance, your focus changing from Nick to Dee.

“I talked to Mom and Dad and they won’t get here ‘til Friday afternoon with the rest of the guests. Dad said he had a few things to take care of and not to worry. Of course, I worry tenfold because he told me not to,” Dee interjects, busying herself with pouring beer into her frosted glass.

“Baby, they’ll be here as soon as they can. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about anything,” Matt insists, moving a strand of hair away from Dee’s face before kissing her.

“Promise to keep me occupied?” she requests, a sinful smile on her face.

“I do,” he jokes, clearly proud of himself for making his fiancée blush.

“First of all, how dare you? Secondly, that was almost too cute so watch yourself,” she laughs.

You roll your eyes at the happy couple and smile, going back to looking over the menu. The waitress comes back to the table and takes your orders. Over the meal, you get to know Matt a bit more and you can see how Dee fell in love with him. He’s intelligent, funny, and charismatic. The way he talks about and to her makes you so happy to know your friend found love.

When they turn to talk to each other, you and Nick spark up a conversation about work. He tells you what he can about working for the government, keeping the specific details to himself. You regale him with stories of your time as a freelance writer. You’ve written for dozens of publications, but you just want to get your original works out there for people to enjoy.

After mentioning a few pieces you wrote for GQ, Nick expressed interest in reading your articles. You try and downplay your skills, but he presses you for the links. Taking out your phone, you realize that you don’t have his number.

While you exchange digits with Nick, you are too busy to notice Dee casting a sidelong glance and smiling to herself. You ramble on as you send him link after link of some of your favorites. With your face in your phone, you don’t notice the way Nick looks at you with a mix of pride and hunger.

“Well, I am ready to call it a night,” Dee yawns, getting everyone’s attention, “But I could use a nightcap. Who’s up for a trip to the ABC Store? We can make it before they close.”

Everyone agrees and after the check is paid, you all pile into Matt’s SUV for the quick drive to the liquor store. You browse the aisles for a bit by yourself. Filling up your basket with a bottle of wine, some whiskey, and a six-pack of hard seltzers, you surmise that this will sustain you for the week ahead and go in search of the others.

You find Nick in front of the beer cooler, hard at work trying to decide between a 12-pack of Sam Adams’ Cold Snap and Harpoon’s Long Thaw. You suggest he get both and he agrees.

Meeting Dee and Matt up at the front of the store, you stand next to Nick in line and he laughs at the contents of your shopping basket. He puts his beer up for the cashier to scan and has you do the same, paying for your items.

A little piece of you feels taken care of and you thank him while continuing to tell him he doesn’t have to. He just shushes you and says you can make it up to him later. Before your mind can think about what that might entail, the sale is rung and bagged. Nick picks up the beer and you grab the bag of your things.

Nick asks Matt to just drop him off at your cottage since he left his car there. His cottage is literally next door, but you’re not exactly gonna deny yourself the company. Dee and Matt drive away and you turn back to Nick. You both laugh nervously and you surprise yourself by speaking up.

“So, um. I was gonna have a weed and whiskey moment to myself, but I’d be willing to share if you’re interested,” you hint, watching as he weighs his options.

“Lead the way, Gumdrop,” he replies.

He follows you in, closing the door behind him. He puts his beer into the fridge along with your hard seltzer. You put the wine on the counter and take out the whiskey while Nick finds two short glasses in the cabinet. Pouring a generous amount in each one, he offers you a drink and you take a sip of the amber liquid.

Letting the whiskey sit in your mouth, you savor the hints of vanilla and spice. You reach in your purse for your vape pen and take a hit of it before offering it to Nick. Taking a long pull off of the pen, he exhales and you watch as his shoulders relax. You both take another sip of whiskey and revel in the dual flavors of the weed and whiskey.

You take your glass and the bottle, moving onto the patio off of the living room, and sit down in one of the wicker chairs while Nick takes the other. The conversation comes easily enough. Mostly high thoughts and random memories come to mind. After a while, you put on some music and when 6 Underground by Sneaker Pimps comes on, you can’t help but dance in your chair.

Nick stares while you close your eyes and move your hands to the trip-hop classic. You spend the entire song moving to the downtempo beat and enjoying your crossfade. The trance you were under slowly dissipates as the song ends and Pendulum by FKA Twigs starts.

When you open your eyes, Nick is pulling you to stand up. You’re lost as to what he is doing until his hands go to yours, pulling them to rest around his neck while he holds your hips. As the song continues, you follow his slow lead and sway to the intimate and mesmerizing indie hit.

🎶

You're younger than I am broken

I dance feelings like they're spoken

So my conversation's not enough

So lonely trying to be yours

Running through sliding doors

So lonely trying to be yours

When you're looking for so much more

🎶

By the time the song ends, the heat between you is unmistakable. Your hand tangles in his hair when he pulls you impossibly closer. Mere centimeters separate your lips. All you would need is to lean just one step closer and you’d finally get to taste his kiss.

Nick beats you to it and his hands pull your face to his, crashing your lips together. You can’t hold back the moan that escapes your lips and he swallows it adding in his own grunts and groans. Kiss after kiss, you radiate carnality and passion.

Breaking the kiss, you watch as he licks his puffy bottom lip. You take in a breath of air and prepare to dive back in but Nick voices his thoughts.

“You are gonna be the death of me, Gumdrop,” he sighs, and at your brows furrowing he continues, “You’ve only been back in my life for a day and I’m already thinking of ways to keep you in it. Don’t hate me, but I think we should chill out, just for tonight. I swear, if you still want this by tomorrow night, I am all yours. But you better be all mine. Please, tell me you can wait for me?”

“Tomorrow night and you’re all mine?” you plead, and he nods.

“Less than 24 hours, baby. Show me that these feelings aren’t just from the substances in our system,” he insists, and you wanna fuck him even more now after he says that.

You nod and he speaks up, “Need to hear your words, baby, like a big girl.”

“Fuck...yes, I can wait. I can wait for you, Nicky,” you whimper and he rests his forehead against yours.

“That’s my good girl,” he praises, lifting his head from yours, “Now, why don’t we call it a night before I go back on my word? You look so good in this dress and I really wanna be good.”

Agreeing with him, you clean up your empty glasses and move the bottle to the counter next to the wine. Nick pulls you into him one last time, snaking a hand down to your ass and grabbing a hefty portion of it before a hardy slap lands on your left cheek. He only snickers at your yelp and nibbles on your bottom lip.

“Keep that same energy for me because tomorrow I’m not holding back,” he vows, and if you weren’t leaning into him, your legs would’ve surely buckled. If he notices the tremble go through your body, he makes no mention of it and for that you are grateful.

“Goodnight, Nicky,” you hum.

“Sleep tight, Gumdrop. And do me a favor?” he challenges, at your nod he continues, “Save it for me. I’m gonna take care of you tomorrow, so no need to touch that kitty tonight, right?”

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, “Right.”

He leaves and once the door is closed, you lean back against it, your hand going to your neck where your pulse is playing a sick beat against your skin.

Less than 24 hours, you think. You got this.

That night, you dream of grayish-blue eyes and large hands roaming your body.

January 21st, 2024 – Day Two

You wake just before 10:30 am and are greeted with a good morning text from Nick. He lets you know that he is taking you out, just the two of you. Since Dee and Matt are enjoying a couple’s spa package, he figures it would only be right to hit some of your favorite places on the island.

You are dressed and out the door by noon. Nick takes you to pick up lunch at Taqueria 504 Suazo’s and you drive out to rent a Jeep Gladiator at for a few hours to drive on the beach. One of the best things about this island is that everything is so close. After 5 minutes, you are at your destination.

Nick drives out a ways past the other people enjoying the off-season and stops about a minute after the last two fishermen you see. Guess he wanted a secluded spot, you think to yourself. While you get the food, Nick grabs the beach chairs and umbrella that he rented. The ocean breeze is agreeable enough, but you are glad that you brought a thin sweater to keep the chill off.

Once you sit down, you hand over Nick’s food and he digs into his burrito while you munch on your fish tacos. When your meal is finished, Nick puts your leftovers in the Gladiator and lets down the truck bed. He beckons you over and helps you sit on the edge and he climbs up and sits next to you while you both look at the water.

“Ya know, the last time we came out here I was just finishing my third year at Virginia Tech. You and Dee were seniors. I remember hoping upon hope that you would apply to VT and I remember you telling me you were accepting a scholarship from Princeton. I just sucked it up and congratulated you. Even though I was hoping you would understand why I wanted you close, I was so proud of you for venturing off on your own. You were always one to go after what you wanted. I just couldn’t stop wanting to be what you wanted,” he confesses, looking off into the water.

“I wanted you, Nicky. Trust me, I did. But I was so afraid that I had a dumb little crush on someone who would never see me as someone other than his little sister’s best friend. The last time I saw you, I thought it was right to push away the idea of you ever having feelings for me. I also may have been afraid of what Dee would say. She’s kind of protective over both of us, ya know?” you finish.

“That girl can be a vicious little thing when she wants to,” he chuckles, shaking his head, “But don’t you think it’s kind of a sign that she had me pick you up from the ferry? And how suddenly today, we have a free schedule to do whatever we want together? I know my sister, and she’s done this before. She matched me up with my high school girlfriend, Beth.”

“Ugh, Beth with the braces and bangs. I used to call her Triple B behind your back. I hated her so much,” you mutter, trying to push the image of them kissing out of your mind.

“Yeah, well. I knew you hated her, but me being an idiot teenager didn’t exactly know that meant you liked me. I just thought you didn’t like her because she was kind of a bitch. She was plenty nice to me, but she could be...a little scary, at times,” he laughs, surprising himself.

“So...you think Dee would be ok with...this?” you say, gesturing between the two of you.

“I just think there is no way she would let us be alone together if she wasn’t halfway hoping it would work out,” he guesses, “Plus, honestly? We’re adults. We’re allowed to go after what makes us happy.”

A slow smile spreads across your face and you pull Nick in for a kiss. You don’t want to jinx it but he makes you happy too. The way he looks at you like you hung the moon, the way he listens to you and asks questions and the way he kisses you?

It just has to be real.

Packing up your beach equipment, you head back to drop off everything. Getting back into his SUV, you head around the island and view some of the sights. You go shopping and pick up some new knick knacks to take home. Visiting the lighthouse, you take some photos and make sure to bring Dee and Matt here before you leave the island.

Since most of the island’s restaurants are closed on Sundays, you venture to Ocracoke Variety Store and opt for cooking dinner together. After you have all the ingredients you need for a simple fish fry, you head back to your cottage and you and Nick get your hands dirty.

You have him cutting up potatoes for steak fries while you are preparing the batter for the fish. When dinner is ready, you sit at the dining room table with soft music playing in the background. While Nick wanted to take you out for your first date, he could appreciate the quiet setting with just the two of you enjoying each other’s company.

Finishing your meal, Nick takes your hand and kisses your knuckles. You smile and warmth radiates in your cheeks. You hate to admit it, but you wish you had a little liquid courage right now. But the nerves you feel only cement that this is happening.

He pulls you up from your seat, the hunger in his eyes evident from his blown-wide pupils. Leading you into the bedroom, he stops just short of the end of the bed. Standing behind you as you face the bed, he runs his hands down your bare arms and whispers in your ear.

“I cannot wait to take you apart, Gumdrop. But,” he starts, turning you around to face him, “First, I just want to take my time and worship this beautiful body I know you’re hiding from me.”

If he wasn’t holding you up, you would have melted into the carpet. But he’s there with firm hands and a gentle grip. Helping you out of your dress, he lays it on the chair in the corner. Coming back, he admires the white lace bra and panty set that accentuates your body shape.

His lips come back to yours, tasting your desire and wantonness with every kiss. Wrapping an arm around you, he guides you to lay back on the bed while maintaining the liplock. He kisses down your neck and across your collarbone while his hand unclasps your bra and removes it from your body.

Laying a kiss between your breasts draws a quick inhale from you. You can tell he’s proud of himself when he looks up at you while he licks one pert nipple, the other between his thumb and forefinger. He sucks on it as if he could siphon gold from your tits. Switching to the other, he gives it the same attention.

The noises that come from him as he plays with your breasts are enough to make you shiver. He whimpers when you moan and throw your head back. He groans when he kisses down your belly, stopping to look up at you before he plants a quick kiss upon your covered mound.

He pulls down your panties at such an agonizing speed. Nick has to squeeze his dick through his pants when a string of your wetness stretches from your pussy to your underwear. Spreading your legs apart, he feasts on the view of your lips opening like a flower before him.

He wanted to go slow, he really did. But once he flattens his tongue and licks up from your entrance to your swollen nub, he is mesmerized by the taste of you. He goes back and forth between sucking on your button and lapping up whatever nectar drips from you. You can feel yourself inching toward the finish line, and he is right there to talk you through it.

“Fuck...you taste like Heaven...that’s right, baby...let go and cum for me like a good girl,” he commands between licks and kisses.

You’re nothing if not a good listener and seconds later, your walls are clamping around his fingers. You’ve never cum like this before and it washes over you like a warm waterfall. He removes his fingers from your wet opening and sucks them clean before moving up the bed to kiss you.

Tasting yourself on his tongue, you are beyond turned on. You tug at the hem of his shirt and he sits up to pull it off. Running your hands over his chest, you pull at the button of his pants.

“Use your words,” he urges, his hands stopping yours from moving further.

“Need to feel you, Nick. Please fuck me,” you beg, all thoughts gone from your head.

“There’s my good girl,” he replies, standing up from the bed to undress fully. Climbing back on the bed, he kneels between your legs. He strokes himself slowly, eight inches of uncut cock staring you in the face. He squeezes the base and you can tell he is just as excited as you are.

You crook a finger at him and once again, he is on top of you. With nothing between you, you’re impossibly close and you only want to get closer. Your hand soon finds his erection and he hisses at the contact, groaning when you stroke him.

He leans on one forearm while his other hand guides his tip between your lips, gathering some of your slick before entering you. You both groan loudly once he is fully settled inside you.

“You good, baby?” he asks, anxious to start moving his hips.

“God, yes. Fuck me, Nicky,” you plead, feeling so full when you arch your back.

Foregoing words, Nick retracts his hips and thrusts into you. The wet squelch as he fucks you is music to your ears, just like the way he tells you how beautiful you are in between kisses. He uses your breasts as handholds while he pummels your snatch.

The way he looks into your eyes while he plunges inside you excites you so much that you don’t even notice when a tear escapes your eye. He kisses it away, trailing his lips to your neck where he sucks at your pulse point. At this point, you couldn't care less about a hickey. You just want to be his.

Your next orgasm surprises you and you squeeze his cock from the inside, coating him in your cream.

“Good girl, coming all over my fucking dick. Feels so fucking good when you tighten around me like that. You are taking me so well, Gumdrop. Yes. You. Are,” he grunts, punctuating the last three words with deep thrusts inside you.

Flipping you over so you are on top, Nick grabs your hips and you start to ride him. You bounce on his cock like it’s the last time you get to fuck. By the mewls coming from him, you are doing it just right.

You feel another climax on its way, slowly building up in your core. Nick swats your hand away when you go to rub your clit. He licks his thumb and massages your neglected pearl until you are unable to hold it in any longer. The dual stimulation is too much and you gush, soaking Nick’s abdomen and your thighs.

“Oh fuck, baby. Such a good fucking girl for me. You must want my cum inside you with the way you’re...riding my dick. Shit, baby, I’m gonna blow. Where do you want it, baby?” he asks, you reply by doubling down on your hip motions.

“Right there, Nicky. Cum inside me, please,” you implore breathlessly.

“Yes, baby. Gonna cum for you, gonna fill you up so good. Ugh, fuck, here it comes,” he whimpers, his hold on your hips so tight to keep you close to him.

You feel every twitch of his cock, his muscles pulling taut across his arms and chest as he floods your canal. Your name on his lips as he comes down is a badge of honor. Yes, you did that shit.

He pulls you down to kiss him, shallow thrusts keeping him semi-hard before he pulls out. He lays you down next to him, cuddling you close and kissing your forehead. You start to fall asleep but you can feel Nick moving off the bed. Your hand shoots out to grab for him, but he shushes you.

He goes into the bathroom and you hear the faucet running before he comes out with a wet washcloth. Wiping down your sensitive folds, he takes care of you so well. Putting the washcloth back in the bathroom, he comes back and helps you get under the covers and he snuggles in with you.

With your arms and legs entangled in one another, you drift off peacefully.

January 22nd – January 26th 2024

The days before the wedding are spent enjoying the island with Nick, Dee, and Matt before the other guests arrive. More than once, Dee has cornered both you and Nick, asking embarrassing questions. You both say nothing, feigning ignorance even though Nick has moved into your cottage over the week, abandoning the cottage that he was supposed to share with his parents.

That being said, once his parents do finally make it to the island, he doesn’t even try and act like he isn’t staying with you. The smile on his father’s face says it all, he approves. His mother is far too preoccupied with getting everyone together for the wedding rehearsal to notice anything.

That is until she catches you and Nick making heart eyes at each other as you stand in for the Bride and Groom in rehearsal. Yes, it was a bit too soon to be playing Wedding Day with a man whose divorce is less than 100 days old.

But when you know, you know.

At dinner, you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom and you don’t notice Nick following after you. Before you can enter the ladies’ room, a hand on your arm pulls you into the nearby gender-neutral bathroom.

You turn around and are met with hungry eyes before he descends upon you. Turning you around to face the mirror, he puts your hands on the sink and sinks to his knees, his hands roaming under your dress and up your legs until he pulls down your panties. He pulls out his already hard dick and pumps himself a few times before sliding inside you.

“Don’t fucking move, baby. Keep looking at yourself in the mirror, and your hands stay right where they are. You thought you could get away with teasing me in this tight fucking dress,” he breathes, “I want you to watch yourself while I fuck you til you’re dripping for me like the good girl I know you can be.”

When he places his hands on your hips, he begins a steady pace. He watches you in the mirror as your orgasm takes you over without warning. You squeeze him, your walls fluttering and coaxing him to follow you when you cover him in your juices.

But he surprises you when he pulls out and pulls your panties back up. When you turn around to ask why, he only kisses you and whispers in your ear, “I’ll get mine later, don’t you worry.” That only fills you with a little dread, your legs still wobbly as Nick tucks himself away and straightens his outfit. “Can’t have them knowing I just got my dick wet, right baby? See you back out there.”

He exits the bathroom and leaves you with slick running down your legs and your brain falling out of your ears. And he’s worried about you being the death of him?

You straighten yourself and use the bathroom for its intended purpose. Once back in the banquet hall, you pray to any god who will listen that you don’t look like you just got some dick. You see Nick and Matt in a conversation like he’d been here the whole time. When Dee asks why you look flustered, you lie and say you’re just a bit tired.

Nick overhears you talking to Dee and interjects himself into the conversation, “Why don’t we go get some fresh air? Don’t worry, Sis, I’ll take care of her.” Helping you out of your chair, you both say goodnight to those at dinner.

Nick takes you back to the cottage, pulling you behind him as he walks out onto the balcony. Crashing his lips to yours, his hands scrunch up the fabric of your dress until you feel the night air chill your skin.

“Hands on the railing, baby,” he says, peeling your soaked panties from you.

Nick’s pushing inside you in the next breath and it’s like he belonged there all along. Holding onto your hips, he begins his onslaught. All you can do is hold yourself up and be happy that no one is walking down this road because fuck they would be able to see you getting absolutely railed without abandon.

Your grip on the railing is faltering as he slams into you and he takes pity on you. He uses the grip on your hips to pull you back so you sit on his lap while he sits in the wicker chair. He moves you up and down on his dick while saying the filthiest things to you.

Once your climax hits, his pace falters and he thrusts up into you. His tip hits your cervix as he pumps you full. He holds you against him and kisses up your neck as you lay back on his chest. For a few moments, all you both can do is breathe and caress each other.

His dick slips free of you and you feel his load dripping from your thoroughly used hole.

“Come with me back to Virginia,” he whispers, surprising both of you, “Don’t say no just yet. Think about it. We don’t leave for a couple of days. I have not been this happy in a very long while and I think I make you happy too. Just think about it, Gumdrop.”

A million things go through your head at the thought of giving up your life in New Jersey. This was a big step after only a week of playing house. Your brain comes up with so many what-ifs and reasons to not leap. But then one thought sticks, and you smile.

When you know, you know.

January 27th, 2024 – Wedding Day

You were never a big crier, but you shed many tears watching your childhood best friend marry the love of her life. It fills you with hope that everything does happen for a reason. While listening to their vows, you wonder if you could ever make that type of commitment. At that moment, Nick squeezes your hand and you smile up at him. Like he could read your mind, he seems to always know what to do to give you comfort.

Then again, he has known you most of his life. And when you think about it, it has always been him. A distant memory replays in your head of him simply putting a band-aid on your skinned knee when you were nine and he was twelve. Even then, he was there for you with a smile and a friendly hug.

The wedding reception is an all-out party but you expect nothing less from the Fowlers. The music, the food, and the atmosphere are perfect. Dee enjoys herself and is just happy to be married to Matt. And you are so happy for her, to see her without a care in the world.

Nick focuses on you the entire night, making sure you are comfortable and that you have everything you need. You sit in his lap, effectively confirming any rumors that may have spread about you two. His hand on your knee is warm and you want to sneak out of here and take him to the nearest closet. But he doesn’t let you move an inch once he has you in his clutches.

The wedding photographer snaps a pic of you squealing when Nick plants a sloppy kiss on your cheek. The guests around you simultaneously swoon and groan, depending on their relationship status. Not that you care, you had your man. That’s all that matters.

After the wedding, you and Nick sneak off to a secluded area of the beach to look up at the stars. Taking off your shoes, you don’t mind the sand between your toes. You spend most of the night on the beach, just enjoying each other’s company under the moon.

You are lucky enough to see a few shooting stars, and you can’t stop yourself from making a wish or two. Wondering if Nick made a wish, you open your mouth to ask him but close it just as quickly. You know his wish already and only you could make it come true.

Coming back to the cottage is bittersweet. The last night of your vacation is spent lying naked with Nick. No sex, just intimate cuddling. You loved how safe you felt in his arms, and you couldn’t deny yourself this feeling.

January 28th, 2024

You’re nervous all morning and Nick tries his best to keep your mind off leaving the island. But all you want to do is spend all day in bed with him.

Saying goodbye to Dee that day is full of teary-eyed hand-holding, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You hug her mother and father and thank them for inviting you.

Nick drives you to the ferry, thinking for all the world that this is the last time he will see you. But like you continue to do, you surprise him when he’s helping you with your bags.

“So, I have some things to clear up in Jersey, but I was thinking Valentine’s Day is just a couple of weeks away. You can come to my place and we can spend some time together. I may not be ready to move 7 hours away just yet. But I know that I am not ready to be without you. I want you to know that I want this, whatever this is,” you admit, gesturing between the two of you.

“I can be amenable to that. On one condition,” he offers, taking your hands in his.

“And what is that one condition, Nicky?” you press, wondering what else he could want or if your terms weren’t enough.

“When we are with each other again, I get to call you my girl. That’s it. Be mine, and all that?” he laughs, watching as the frown lines on your forehead disappear and a smile grows on your face.

“You had me for a second, Nicky. But, why wait? I’m all yours already. Plus, I’ve already planted my flag in your back pocket,” you tease, snaking your hand around to goose him.

“So that would make me your man, then? And you’re my girl. Makes me wanna ask what made you decide to try this with me?” he hesitates, half wanting an answer and the other half just happy that you said yes.

“Hey, like I always say,” you start, wrapping your arms around his neck, “When you know, you know.”

END…?

A/N: All of the places in this story are real, this is not an advertisement for Ocracoke Island, NC btw. I just loved vacationing here so much, that I wanted to use it in a story lol.

**Tag List** (since I never wrote for Nick, I didn't know who else to tag)

@gummydummy19 @blackwood4stucky

Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁

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ilys00ga · 7 months

Text

𝐒𝐞𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐞.

➞ pair: yoongi x female reader.

➞ word count: 4k

➞ synopsis: buying a pretty vase from an antiques shop can't be that bad of an idea, can it?

➞ genre: fantasy, some angst, bitter sweetness is good for our hearts, fluff, hurt/comfort, cursed ghost!yoongi...

➞ A/N: So, this isn't the fic I talked about before, but I still wanted to post something while I take my time to figure out what the hell I wanted the other fic to be. this is purely inspired by a random prompt I found on a random website, and I wanted to give it a try. I hope u like it <3

ps. PLEASEEEE !!!!!!! do not hesitate to send me ur feedback (comments, asks, reblogs... whatever u want) !!!!!! just give me ur opinions. I'd love to hear it all :,)

★ MASTERLIST.

ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

The tips of my fingers meticulously traced the lines and patterns that coated the vase between my hands. A gorgeous ceramic vase that came with an even more gorgeous lid I had come upon at the small antiques store a few hours earlier, which—in my honest, humble opinion—was poorly and deficiently frequented given the amount of goodness it vends.

It was one that I’ve passed by many times on my way to work before, located in an old street busy with other art stores. Each time I’d stopped at it, fascinated by the items I could see through colorless glass, I’d get that strange desire to enter and discover what it had to offer me, but it wasn’t strong enough to pull me inside.

Broken or not, there’s magic hidden in those old items. Stories and emotions traveling from the past all the way to my heart.

Until one day, I decided to surrender to those powerful items and made my way through the front door. It was indeed a dusty magic shop.

I put the vase on the table with extra care and opened the lid, my dog running around somewhere in the other room. A quick look inside the vase, however, had my brows rising.

"Is this.. powder?" I asked myself.

Back in the shop, nothing hinted that the vase contained anything, nor did the owner utter a single word about it. She, in fact, didn't even seem to be that interested in her very few customers, if I were to be honest. The newspaper she was reading throughout all that short period of time I was in there had her eyes fixed on it, for the most part.

I swallowed hard, feeling like my heart had been ripped off my chest and drowned in icy cold water with the thought of getting unknowingly tangled in some illegal activities.

Loud barks, then the crashing of something cut my new overwhelming awareness short, and I sprinted in search of my hyper dog.

"What did you break this time, Holly?" I made quick work of cleaning the mess Holly had made, giving him some treats because he looked so cute nonetheless then returned to what I had decided to call a cursed beauty later on.

Upon entering the room, the sight of a man looking through my limited collection of vinyls with his back facing me made my legs freeze in their place, and my heart almost slipped out of my mouth in another alert panic.

"What the hell?!" my lips shouted before I could even think of finding something to defend myself in the face of that stranger.

The man dropped the disk in his hands and faced me with wide eyes. His startled expression quickly snapped into a kind smile, and he spoke, "Hey, are you the one who opened the urn?"

"Who the hell are you? How did you get in here?!!" my heart was pounding in my ears. I quickly went through the details from the moment I walked into the apartment to that of when I came back to the room, checking if I missed any hints of somebody breaking in or not.

The stranger started walking towards me with an arm stretched out, and I quickly backed away, looking around before grabbing the first hard object I could find within my sight line, "Stay away from me!"

"Relax, I'm not here to hurt you." He stopped in his tracks and raised his hands in the air, "I'm Yoongi, Min Yoongi, and you just set me free from that damn urn. Thank you, by the way."

The more he talked, the colder my blood was running in my veins and the slippier the object was becoming as I gripped it with sweating hands for dear life. Nothing he said made any sense. All I could do was shout in frustration, "What the hell are you talking about?!"

The patter of paws slapped across the corridor floor, and Holly came running into the living room. The dog started barking when he saw the stranger, but the latter didn’t even flinch. Instead, he sighed, breathing heavily through his nose, and then looked back up at me. But before he could say anything more, I huffed.

"Are you a serial killer?" I wanted to cry. Actually, he looked too pretty to be that coldhearted. I figured that maybe if I cried, he'd feel bad and leave me alone. Or maybe, if I took the chance to launch at him first, right then and there, that'd do something.

I could either die an honorable death, attempting to fighting back, or lay myself bare skinned for my predator, and no one would be a witness outside of the walls of the room that were only getting colder and colder by the ticking seconds.

Well, maybe Holly would, but he’s busy barking, not moving from his place at all.

"Look, I really don't know how you ended up here. I-I don't want to know, yeah? I will even let you go and not speak a single word about this. Just please don't kill me. Yeah? I'd do anything you want, just- please?" I began to plead, sweating like crazy even though the room around felt too icy.

The man didn’t reply, crouching down to lure my dog over. Holly’s small head cocked to the side before slowly moving closer to him. If I weren't busy trying to steady my breathing while simultaneously making sense of whatever was going on in the middle of my living room, I would’ve palmed my face.

"I told you, I'm Yoongi and I'm not a serial killer. This thing you have here, the one you just opened," he explained, nodding towards the open ceramic vase on the table, "I, my soul was trapped in there."

I blinked, a beat or two slipped through my lips, then muttered, “You’re being serious?”

“Why would I lie about something like this?” he retorted, hands petting the pet on his lap, and added in a softer voice, “I understand how crazy this sounds, but in simpler words, I was trapped inside and once the lid was lifted, which is what you have done, I was able to get out.”

“Oh, so you say once the vase is shut again you’ll go back there, is that it?” I breathed out, picking my words cautiously.

He hummed and nodded, still focused on the dog he was playing with. Taking my chance, I rushed towards the table. With trembling hands, I grabbed the lid and screwed the vase shut.

"No, wait! Don't clo-"

Silence…

The familiar sound of multiple clocks ticking together, hand in hand and almost perfectly at the same time, welcomed me into the antiques shop.

The shop was practically empty. No customers were in sight. My only audience was the oil paintings hanging on the walls, the lamps and the crystal chandeliers dangling from the ceiling, the tables and the surfaces that displayed everything: from old jewelry to dolls and collectible plates and cups, the sculptures in different shapes and sizes scattered everywhere, the old books, cameras, vases and musical instruments…

They all stared at me and the vase I was holding tightly to my chest.

Walking ahead, I reached the front counter where the same old woman stood reading some newspaper. Despite the clearly audible bell that rang every time the door was swung open, she didn't seem to be recognizing my entrance. I cleared my throat in an attempt to grab her attention, but it fell on blinded ears.

Sighing, I put the vase on the counter with a thud and declared my aimed objective, "I'm here to return this."

"No exchange, no refund." The woman finally, but dryly, replied.

"You have to understand, I can't keep this anymore." I insisted.

"No exchange, no refund!" She repeated in a stern tone, looking up and meeting my eyes.

"Fine," I took a deep, long breath in, "you're the owner, tell me what do I do with it then."

"Its colors go very well with any kind of furniture, but I'd say keep it on a shelf amidst other decorations." The contrast between the way she spoke so friendly and the tight smile she had on her lips poked at my nerves.

"Are you kidding me? I just said I don't want this cursed thing anywhere near me! It has a weird powder in it! and-" I paused, lowering my voice despite the fact that the shop was empty—minus me, its owner and its goods, "some weird ghost appeared out of it!"

The antiquarian silently folded her newspaper, put it on the counter in front of her, and stayed silent for a while, staring deeply into my eyes.

"Use the ashes and break the curse." She mumbled.

"Ashes…? What?"

"You heard me. Break the curse and save the dead." She didn't say anything further, busying herself with the newspaper again, and that was my key to leave.

"Next time, don't sell cursed stuff to innocent people who don't have enough time on their hands." I turned on my heels and stomped out of the shop with the vase between my hands.

Three days later:

“Alright, talk to you later.”

Stepping into the apartment, I hung up the phone and put it on the small coffee table. Holly was curled up on the sofa with his nose tucked under his tail. My body naturally bent down, and I pecked the pup’s head affectionately.

It had been exactly three days since I came back from the small antiques shop, put the vase on the shelf, and never dared to touch it again. Every morning and every night, I’d stared at it and contemplated whether I ought to open it and investigate what the hell was going on or not. The shop owner’s words never left my ears, ‘break the curse and save the soul.’

Three days had passed, and I still hadn’t made my mind up or got to any simple conclusion whatsoever. The thought of having somebody else’s ashes in my house made my stomach twist in ways, yet somehow I couldn't find the courage to empty the urn.

Well, at least it wasn't coke or something of the kind. That thought floated in my head as I lay on my bed the same night I’d come back from the shop.

Stuck in a quandary between the fear of what could be awaiting me and the burden that was unceasingly weighing both my heart and mind, I knew that having a staring contest with that damn container day and night wasn’t going to do me any good.

After yet another fruitless debate between me and my conscious mind, I slowly walked towards the shelf, carefully put my hand over the lid, lifted it up and stared at the powder—the ashes inside.

I waited, nothing happened. Looked around the room, nothing happened.

For a moment, I could feel a scoff bubbling its way up my throat. It was ridiculous, I felt ridiculous for expecting something, for believing that something would happen and that all of that madness was real.

How could a tale about the soul of a cursed, handsome man popping out of an ancient vase be real?

But then again, I recalled the thing the old woman had said to me, as well as that encounter I had with the strange man. Very vividly clear. I remembered it, it happened, it was real.

"You didn't throw it away." A low voice came from behind and made me jolt in surprise.

There he was, the strange man—Yoongi leaning on the doorframe with both of his hands tucked in his pockets.

Part of me was grateful he was there because I didn't have to worry about my mental well-being deteriorating. But the other one shivered, creeped out by his presence, by the whole situation.

"Thank you." Why is he so polite? "I was scared you too would throw me away." Oh?

I lightly shook my head, trying to find the proper words to express myself, and I said, "Listen, I need answers."

“I figured. What is it that you want to know?”

"I-I talked to the person that sold this thing to me, and she said that I need to use these… ashes to break a curse.” Somehow, my brain was more than aware of the fact that the man standing a few steps away from me was most probably not human.

“yeah…?” He mumbled back, “didn’t she say how to do that?”

I shook my head ‘no’, and if his disappointed, broken look surprised me, I tried my best not to make it visibly noticeable.

“What the hell are you exactly?” I asked. I wasn't sure what emotion(s) I was feeling at that very moment exactly. I couldn’t put a name to it to save my life. But I surely didn’t mean to sound as exasperated as my voice made me out to be. I could see his throat work as he gulped, eyes averting from mine to look down at the floor for a moment before looking up again.

"I died a hundred years ago. A witch attempted to kill me, and she did, before casting a curse and trapping me inside that thing over there." he pointed towards the antique vase behind me, then added, "in my ashes. I've been trapped there for years. Some people did stumble upon me when they opened it over the years. Just like you did. But they never gave me one chance to even speak, and they threw it out immediately."

“But why? What did you do to deserve all of this?”

A gloom overcame his eyes, yet his voice was steady and deep as his lips stretched into a smile that only the word ‘sour’ could do its description justice.

"That's what happens when one falls in love with a witch.” He replied, “anyways, that’s all I know. I've been trying to figure out how to break the curse, but being stuck in a jar serves for nothing.”

Neither of us spoke for a while, him standing amidst the echoes of his past and my voice trying to find its way through the strangled words stuck in my throat.

“I’ll help you.” I spoke, breaking the heavy silence.

“Really?” His face was so full of hope it sent my heart clenching between my ribs.

“Yeah. This is making me anxious as well, I have no other choice.” I answered, brushing it off with a shrug.

“What brings you back here?” said the antiquarian who was busy polishing some old pocket watches, her glaces hanging low on the tip of her nose.

“I- We need some help.” I answered, and her head snapped up to find me and Yoongi staring back at her at the front counter.

“How could an old antiques shop owner possibly be of any help to you youngsters?” She asked again.

“I assure you that I’m not younger than you.” came a comment from Yoongi.

She stared at him, her relaxed expression turning tense, and then she looked at me again. Instead of providing an answer, I put the open vase in front of her. She gave it a quick look and then looked back into my eyes. “You are one stubborn young woman.”

“I’m not here to return it.” I cut her off to explain myself, “I’m here to know how to break the curse and release his soul.”

“I see you let him walk around freely.”

“Why is that a problem?” I asked with furrowed brows.

“Why wouldn’t a wandering dead be a problem to the living?” Her brows rose just as she gestured with her head towards Yoongi, as if stating the most obvious scientific fact, “anyhow, you want to know what to do next, don’t you?”

I hummed.

“All you need to do is throw the ashes into the ocean, let it dissolve and become one with the salt water. Tomorrow, when the sun sets.”

“Why specifically tomorrow?” I asked.

“Full moon. Or else your efforts will go down the drain. Do not let that happen” She emphasized on the last part through gritted teeth.

“How do you know so much?” Yoongi was the one to ask.

“I am nothing but a mere shop owner. Buying old stuff and selling them, that’s what I do.”

“You must be a special kind, then.” He bantered.

She shrugged and replied, “I study my products. We’re talking about items that date back to hundreds of years ago.”

She handed me a small pouch bag and told me to put the ashes in there, saying that it would be easier than carrying an open urn around. She seemed displeased with Yoongi’s presence, which was quite understandable, but it didn’t phase him as he was more interested in the shop around him. Walking around with curious eyes.

“Do not spend too much time out there.” was the last thing she addressed to Yoongi before we walked out of the shop.

“You think there’s more cursed things in that shop?” he asked.

“I do not want to think about it.” He chuckled at my response, then I added, “Full moon is tomorrow night.. Do you want to spend one last day with me?"

"Sorry?"

"I think you deserve one last good day before.. resting."

I watched him give my offer a thought as we walked down the street, then he broke into a wide smile, "You mean it?"

“Of course! You’re new here. We can't do much in less than a day, but we can do things around the town. And then we’ll go to the beach before the sun sets, do what we need to do…”

“That sounds way too good to be true.”

“We'll make it true.” I reassured him with a nod.

The next morning, I found Yoongi sitting with a book I could easily recognize from my own collection resting in his hands. He had told me that since he doesn’t sleep, he spent the night reading from my bookshelf. After a few minutes of me listening as he talked so passionately, impressed by everything he’d read, I decided it was time to commence my mission of granting the man his most merited happy day.

It started with a short trip to a well-known bakery, where I made him try whatever his heart—and stomach—desired of baked goods. I bought him wine to taste, and he said it bore no resemblance to that of ancient times. That's how we found ourselves running a taste test on a bunch of beverage bottles, and he had the same reaction to all of them. I also ended up getting him some soda cans to try, and he liked them.

I rented two bikes. It took some time for him to adjust, whining about being confined inside a jar for a hundred years. But once he got the hang of it, we went wandering around the streets of the city with the breeze kissing our cheeks.

I then brought him to a park, one he later said he really liked. We walked between the trees and let the grass tickle our toes. Sat between colorful flowers, redolent with the scent of an early spring. He made a crown and insisted on taking a picture of me with it. He later revealed that he used to love nature the most when he was still alive, and talked about the days he’d spent in the green despite his father’s constant insistence on marriage and building a family of his very own.

I asked him how old he was when he died, he said twenty-eight. And suddenly, his appearance made sense after that. Too young and too handsome, how could the world still let go of him?

He laughed when I made a comment about that and joked, saying that apparently his past lover didn’t want him to live past twenty-eight. I could feel the heavy pain in that joke slicing at my neck, stinging, and I swallowed it down.

He stopped to pet every dog and cat that crossed our path. I couldn’t help but take a picture or two, though the camera never caught his reflection in its frame.

I made sure to drag him towards the kid’s section of the park, where I taught him how to play in the slides and the swings and spring riders. Two grown-ups playing around in a kids’ playground had its fair amount of questioning stares, but hearing him giggle and seeing his wide grin was more than worth it.

We kept on talking nonstop about the differences between our timelines. We made it to a bridge that looked over a lake, the clouds above reflected on the water surface, glowing with the sun behind them. Yoongi started throwing small pieces of bread for the floating ducks, and I just stood there, observing.

“What other place do you want to go to?”

“The beach.” He answered, not looking up from his task. “My favorite place.”

It was a couple of hours before the sunset when we finally made it to the beach. There was a chill in the air that evening, the sand wasn’t as burning as it probably was when the sun was still up high in the sky, beaming. I let my lungs sip on the fresh scent of the ocean as I took a deep breath in, watching Yoongi approach the water with distant eyes.

He let the foamy edge climb its way to his toes, dipping his ankles and then retreating to the sea. He sat on the sand and I did the same.

We didn’t talk. We just sat there and watched the waves dancing with the wind as the sun sank to meet the horizon.

It wasn’t until shades of blue, orange and red blended, interwoven as they painted the breathtaking scenery before us that he spoke in a hushed voice, as though he’d startle the sun and make it rush to hide under the ocean if he spoke any louder, “Thank you for everything, really. No one has ever been this nice to me, even when I was still alive. This meant the most to me.”

I smiled.

“You know, if I were still alive, or if we had met sometime in my lifetime, I would’ve done everything I could to keep you by my side.” I could see him scratch at the back of his head from the corner of my eye, and I turned to see his giddy smile.

“you shouldn’t say things like this ‘cause I’m going to be thinking about it for the rest of my life.” I said, sheepishly.

His smile grew bigger, “Sounds superb. At least someone will remember me.”

My heart clenched.

“You deserve to be remembered.” I said.

“I really don’t.” I could see tears pricking his eyes as they turned a faint red. I had so much to ask at that moment, but I couldn’t. Words were stuck behind my teeth, and I just turned my head to face the horizon again.

“It’s time.” He noted, standing up and offering his hand to me. I took it in mine and stood on my feet, gripping the pouch between my fingers. We marched deeper into the sea, deep enough that the water reached our knees.

“ready?” I asked one last time, and he nodded, his smile never fading away.

The pouch felt so heavy as I untied its drawstring, carefully emptying its content into the water. Yoongi stood behind me, and I didn’t have the heart to look over my shoulder.

It took everything in me to turn around, and when I did, he was no longer there. Breeze blew in my face, and I swear I could feel warmth touching my skin for a moment, or two.

Whether I’d want to visit that antique shop again or not was something I still can’t put my finger on, but somewhere, somehow, deep down I knew I was thankful for it guided the vase– the urn to my hands.

And I whispered prayers of him resting at peace ever after as I looked up at the glowing moon above and the sparkling stars that swimmed all around it.

Grieving a person I never knew, but had the chance to cross paths with, at last.

#yoongi #bts #yoongi scenarios #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #yoongi drabble #bts scenarios #bts yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi angst #yoongi gif #bts imagines #bts fic

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angelheaven7 · 2 months

Text

OK IM GONNA TALK ABOUT ASPIDIMORPHA MILIARIS BECAUSE OH MY GOD THEYRE SO PRETTY

They have that artsy look like the Dynastes tityus beetle but while the Dynastes tityus has a more older artsy look, the Aspidimorpha miliaris reminds me of modern abstract art

And also the bright warm yellow color underneath this sick ass COMPLETELY CLEAR ELYTRON WITH BLACK SPOTS LIKE COMMON

Its so fascinating how one type of beetle can look beautiful like old porcelain and another beetle can look like an abstract painting

The Aspidimorpha miliaris, also called a spotted tortoise beetle, is a type of Asian lady beetle that def deserves more recognition, ive been noticing how much hate Asian lady beetles have been getting lately and it’s driving me crazy, like I get it’s mostly people who aren’t really into insects thinking that they found a lady bug and when they find out it’s an Asian lady beetle they go “oh…🫤🫤” like I get it but jeez 😭

Like it might just be an entomologist thing or a me thing but whenever I find an insect I don’t care what type or species it is I’m just happy as shit that I found a bug of any kind in the first place

Like I’ve sat for hours staring at a single ant I found on the ground 😭 like beetles might be my favorite species of insect but I really have a passion for all insects and I love every single one of them even the aggressive and smelly Asian lady beetles

Even those fuck ass Asian hornets

And obv I’m not trying to shame anyone who’s into bugs but not every single one like I am ‼️ like you do you I don’t care , I’m just expressing my perspective on the whole thing ‼️ I’m just sad as someone who likes Asian lady beetles is all😭

Also thank u guys for all the support and reblogs on my first post!!! It means a lot to me as someone who’s slowly getting more comfortable with unmasking and letting myself info dump about bugs🥹

#asian lady beetle #Aspidimorpha miliaris #bugs #insects #special interest #entomology

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caligvlasaqvarivm · 4 months

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I know you've touched on it in your Gamzee Essay/general alternative timeline post but may I hear some more about your ideas regarding GamTav (or only Tavros)? You get these two in a way the broader fandom doesn't (which is fine, I'll still reblog even the most vanilla ooc art of them) so I'd really love hearing more of your thoughts:3

Ok, I think this is going to be someeewhat controversial, but I think they're destined for pale together, despite Gamzee's initial flushed flirting. I did in fact reread ALL of Tavros's logs for this.

I think the first thing we need to establish is that Tavros actually feels really shitty about himself. It's obvious that his problem is "self-esteem," since he's constantly prattling on about it, but there's a bit he says as Tavrossprite that's pretty enlightening as to where his actions stem from:

TAVROSPRITE: i SYMPATHIZE ENTIRELY WITH YOUR SOCIAL IMPASSE, cAUSING NOT GOOD REFLECTIONS ABOUT YOURSELF, tHAT MAYBE ALSO DOUBLE AS LIBERATING STUFF ABOUT YOU THAT YOU RANDOMLY DECIDE IS FINE SUDDENLY, TAVROSPRITE: oLD ACQUAINTANCES, aND GUYS YOU ONCE CALLED FRIENDS, TAVROSPRITE: tHOSE ARE VERY HARD, TAVROSPRITE: bECAUSE OVER TIME THEY GET EXPOSED TOO MUCH, tO ALL MY FLAWS AND INSECURITIES, TAVROSPRITE: aND THEY START LIKING ME LESS BECAUSE OF THAT, TAVROSPRITE: aT LEAST, tHAT'S HOW THE TRUTH FEELS, iN MY BRAIN, TAVROSPRITE: sO i START THINKING, mAYBE THEY CAN'T BE THAT IMPORTANT TO ME, aFTER ALL, iF i'M GOING TO WANT TO FEEL NOT SAD ABOUT MYSELF ALL THE TIME,

He has a mixture of self-loathing and social anxiety, the latter of which exacerbates the former, as his mind tells him that his friends secretly hate him. However, his real problem is what he then does with those feelings - he avoids them and the situations that cause them. This causes two major knock-on effects: the first is that he actively ends up distancing himself from people who ARE nice to him and DO care about him, only adventuring with Vriska because he's a pushover and she's very pushy (he adventures completely alone up until that point, and winds up sleeping almost all the time afterwards); the second being that, because he refuses to actually sit with and address his negative feelings about himself (or anything else), he's never able to fix them, or remove himself from shitty situations.

Something consistent with Tavros is that every time he tries to make a decision before his death and Vriska-prototyping, it's by trying to rely on something external - whether that's his imaginary friend, his robot legs, or the story of Pupa Pan... or relying on advice from Kanaya, or seeking approval and forgiveness from Vriska, or earning flushed interest from Jade. He believes himself to be deeply flawed and untrustworthy, so he allows other people to make his decisions, and when relationships do get intimate enough that someone might get him vulnerable, he peaces out. Even his ill-fated attempt to kill Vriska is heavily encouraged by Vriska herself:

AT: aND THAT BEING THE CASE, AT: eVEN THOUGH i'M TERRIFIED OF YOU, AT: aND nOT AS STRONG, AT: oR REAL CONFIDENT, AT: oNLY MOSTLY FAKE CONFIDENT, AG: Yeeeeeeees? AG: Go on. AT: i THINK, AT: i AM GOING TO HAVE TO STOP YOU, AG: Yeah! That's the spirit. AG: Pretty weakslime threat there, 8ut it's a start. AG: Tell you what. AG: If you can find me in this la8, you can have at me. AG: I'll even give you a free shot! No funny 8usiness or anything. AT: oK, AT: tHEN, AT: hERE i COME, AG: I'll 8e w8ing. <3

As we see with Jade, whom he's attempting to flirt with flushed, he's actively trying to impress her using "self-esteems" explicitly gained from "fake" things he's acknowledging as fake - that is, refusing to be genuine and vulnerable with her, because he doesn't believe anyone would like him the way he actually is.

AT: bUT WHAT ABOUT, AT: mY ATTRACTIVE BRAVADO, AT: aND IGNORING MY INSTINCTUAL COWARDICE HARD ENOUGH TO SAY THAT i LIKE YOU, AT: iSN'T THAT, AT: sUPPOSED TO BE VERY ATTRACTIVE, aND ENCOURAGE THE MAJOR HAVING OF FLUSHED FEELINGS IN OTHERS, AT: i GUESS WHAT i MEAN IS, wHAT ABOUT ALL MY CONFIDENCE, AT: wHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT THAT,

His "dating" Vriska in the dream bubbles is also dubious and one-sided at best, as John calls him out for faking it and Tavros isn't willing to bring up wanting the Ring of Life because he was planning to propose to Vriska. Thus, once more, he's attempting to use something disingenuous (in this case, a human proposal) to win another person's affection, which he believes would be a symbol of actualizing his "self-esteem".

We also literally see him do the "deciding someone wasn't actually important to you after all, so it hurts less when you cut them off before they can hurt you emotionally by noticing your flaws" thing with Nepeta - he actually quite likes Nepeta, and would certainly have enjoyed having her play the game with him, but he assures her that it's not a big deal basically immediately, and insists he'll just find someone else:

AC: :33 < tavros im sorry i cant be on your team :(( AC: :33 < im not allowed AT: oH, AT: tHAT'S OKAY, AT: tHEN i GUESS HE SAID NO, tHEN, ... AC: :33 < hmm purrhaps AC: :33 < but i still f33l bad AT: i'LL FIND ANOTHER PLAYER, iT'S NOT A BIG DEAL, AT: gOOD LUCK, bEING, AT: oN THE BLUE TEAM, AC: :33 < ok thanks :((

But, perhaps most strikingly, is the way he leaves his good friend Gamzee on read after Gamzee suggests... gasp... intimacy.

TC: WhEn wE Up aNd sTaRt tO KiCk aT ThIs rEd TeAm NoIsE, TC: YoU ShOuLd mAkE YoUr wAy tO GeT YoUr hAnG On aT My hIvE. AT: oH, yES, tOTALLY, TC: We cOuLd sPlIt a tIn oF ThE PiMpEsT SnEeZe i gOt oN HaNd, BaKeD Up aLl sPeCiAl fOr yOu. TC: AnD ThEn mAyBe mAkE OuT A LiTtLe. AT: uH, TC: ;o) AT: , AT: ,,

It freaks him out, and he's never seen hanging with Gamzee again. And this is a huge shame, because not only is Tavros one of the only people who is nice to Gamzee and appreciates his religious beliefs, but Gamzee is one of the only people who hears out Tavros's genuine insecurities and desires without making fun of him:

AT: tHE ONLY THING MORE FLY THAN THE RHYMES, AT: i'M SAYING TO EXPRESS ALL MY MALICES, AT: iS THE ABILITY HE HAD i WISH WAS MINE, AT: iNSTEAD OF i GUESS, THIS EXCESSIVE PARALYSIS, TC: (lOoK OuT FoR ThE HoOk bRo!!!) TC: GeT OfFa tHoSe wHeElS, gEt oFfA ThOsE WhEeLs. TC: If mIrAcLeS ArEn't fAkE He'lL GeT OfFa tHoSe wHeElS! AT: bUT HIGH, iN THIS CASE, hAS DOUBLE THE MEANING, AT: iT MEANS HE CAN FLY, pLUS DOES HIGH SELF ESTEEMING, AT: tHAT'S TWO THINGS HE HAS, tHAT i'D RATHER WERE MINE, AT: hIS TWO FLAPPY WINGS, aND hIS BIG HEALTHY SPINE, AT: oOPS, AT: tHAT'S THREE THINGS,,, TC: GeT OfFa tHoSe wHeElS, gEt oFfA ThOsE WhEeLs. TC: If mIrAcLeS ArEn't fAkE He'lL GeT OfFa tHoSe wHeElS!

(Compare:)

PAT: i'M SORT OF, lYING ON vRISKA'S FLOOR RIGHT NOW, PAT: lIKE, iN HER BLOCK, PAT: lYING DOWN, PAT: uHH, yOU KNOW, bECAUSE i CAN'T WALK, CCG: OH NO SHIT REALLY??? CCG: YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS, WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN.

He isn't able to do a REAL self-confidence at least until he gives Vriska the bird and flies away, for the first time asserting that he thinks she's an asshole and doesn't actually want or need her validation or approval. After that, he's able to convince a ghost army to follow him using friendship and asking and niceness. Breath powers! Also Page powers! Also actual self-esteems! Although I don't personally hold anything after Game Over as anything more than soft canon, I think we can still see a fairly straightforward character arc reach a natural conclusion there.

But as to why I specifically think him and Gamzee are destined for pale, despite what appears to be flushed leanings from Gamzee's end, and despite the fact that I usually believe what the comic tells me, is because what brief few interactions we see between them are very much pale in nature, and it would be kind of narratively bizarre if Gamzee were set up to have a failed moirallegiance - the quadrant described as "soul mates" - without managing to find his real soul mate after. And who's it going to be? Equius? Or the guy that Gamzee literally says he feels "at chill with" talking to?

Gamzee kissing Tavros's corpse is often used as evidence for his desire for flushed, but I disagree - however Gamzee feels about Tavros romantically, kissing a dead player is how you revive them, so it reads to me - especially given how sad Gamzee is about Tavros dying - more like a desperate act to bring him back. Lest we forget, Terezi also gives it a try, and Karkat kisses Kanaya for the same reason - the reality that their extra lives are gone hasn't sunk in yet for these 13 year old kids, so they must try revival even if they know it won't work.

Moreover, Gamzee indirectly describes Tavros as his "best friend," after having called Karkat that through most of the game, and having an implied pale crush on Karkat during that time.

TC: YOU MOTHER FUCKING KNOW, BROTHER. TC: its the fuckin puppet. TC: THE ONE THAT'S ALL GOT TO BE MY BEST FUCKING FRIEND I GOT NOW. TC: now that my other buddy managed to be having his head chopped off. :oC

Moreover moreover, what Karkat cites as being the cause of their moirallegiance's failure is Gamzee's religious beliefs:

KARKAT: HE STARTED GETTING SO UNBELIEVABLY SELF SATISFIED AND PIOUS, LIKE WAY MORE THAN HE EVER WAS BEFORE. KARKAT: LIKE HE'S JUST SO COMPLETELY CONVINCED HE'S FOUND HIS CALLING, THAT THIS SESSION IS THE GATEWAY TO THE PROMISED LAND WHERE HE'LL FULFILL HIS DESTINY. KARKAT: HE'S SO CAUGHT UP IN HIS IDIOTIC SCHEMES HE COULDN'T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT ME ANYMORE.

Which are explicitly what Tavros invites Gamzee to speak on, and appreciates:

AT: yEAHHH, yOU CAN TALK ABOUT THE CLOWN THINGS, wHICH, AT: i DON'T REALLY UNDERSTAND EVER, bUT THAT'S OKAY, AT: bECAUSE IT'S KIND OF FUNNY, AT: wHEREAS, i'LL ADDRESS SOME TOPICS PERTAINING TO MY INTERESTS, AT: aND i GUESS, pERSONAL MOTIFS, TC: YeAh! FuCk YeAh, ThAt Be HoW sHiT's AlL uSuAlLy Up AnD fUcKiN lOcKeD bRo. ... AT: dO YOU HAVE TIME FOR, mY MIRACLES, rELIGIOUS FRIEND, }:) TC: Do yOu gEt yOuR NoTiCe oN Of tHe mIrAcLeS AT: sO MANY, uH, gRATUITOUS EXPLETIVE, mIRACLES, tHE MAGIC MOTHER, aLSO eXPLETIVE, mIRACLES, TC: FuCk yEs, HeReS WhErE ThE SlAm tUrNs tO NoThIn bUt hOnKs... TC: HoNk hOnK HoNk hOnK HoNk hOnK HoNk TC: HoNk hOnK HoNk hOnK HoNk hOnK HoNk AT: HONK, TC: FuUuUuUuUuUuUuUuUuCk! AT: iT'S LESS APPROPRIATE FOR ME TO DO THE HONKS, tHAN YOU, bUT THAT WAS STILL GREAT, TC: YeAh, BrO. yEaH!!! AT: tHE SLAMS WERE TRULY PRIME, aND, AT: yOUR RELIGIOUS VIEWS, tHOUGH i DON'T SHARE THEM, aRE, AT: rEASONABLY INSPIRATIONAL, AT: i THINK i'M IN THE PROCESS OF RELEASING AT LEAST ONE TEAR,

But also in Tavros's single conversation with Gamzee, we see Tavros stand up to a highblood:

TC: :o) HoNkHoNkHoNkHoNkHoNk AT: }:o), hEH, TC: hAhAh FuUuUuCk, YoU sToLe My FuCkIn NoSe BrO! TC: WhAt GoT yOu EvEn Up ThE gUmPtIoN tO aLl FuCkIn Do ThE sHiT lIkE tHaT? AT: eRR, i DON'T KNOW, iT'S JUST, AT: kIND OF THE OBVIOUS THING TO DO, AT: sTICK THE CIRCLE IN FRONT OF THE DOTS, aND, bEHIND THE BENDY ONE, AT: pLUS, oH YEAH, mY HORNS, TC: hAhAhAhA. AT: mAYBE WE CAN SLAM ABOUT IT, ... TC: fUuUuCk, So FuCkIn FrEsH. TC: YoU nEeD tO bE sLaPpEd FuCkIn SiLlY wItH a MoUtH lIkE tHaT! hAhA. AT: aND, iF YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH IT, AT: tHEN i SUGGEST YOU GO AND RAP IT DUDE,

He feels safe with Gamzee, enough to take a bit of an attitude with him, enough to open up about his insecurities about his disability and how much he wishes he was like Pupa Pan, and Gamzee explicitly states he feels calm when he talks to Tavros, which is the stated function of a moirallegiance.

TC: Me tOo, BrO, yOu mOtHeR FuCkIn kNoW ThErE Be sOmE Of mY EyE's RoYaL JeLlY To gO WiTh yOuR EmOtIoNaL pEaNuT BuTtEr. AT: wHOA, aHA, hA, TC: ThIs iS BeAuTiFuL, dUdE, i fEeL So aT ChIlL WiTh yOu. AT: yEAH, fRIENDLINESS WITH YOU IS, pRETTY MUCH ALWAYS NICE, aND FUN TO HAVE,

And the thing is, trolls are constantly getting into moirallegiances when they want to be flushed (Eridan, Kanaya), having palecrushes when they want to be friends (Gamzee), and winding up flushed with their moirail (pale solfef is forshadowed in the same breath as pale erikar, and they don't seem to confirm a matespritship until after Sollux's actual flushed crush, Aradia, explodes). Especially for Gamzee, who was neglected by his lusus and struggles with social interaction to the point where he feels like he has to hide his real self (casteist beliefs, constant talk of religion and murder, which, by the way, come out when he talks to Tavros), it'd be easy for him to mistake the "instinctive attraction" of moirallegiance for the passions of matespritship.

These thoughts are all pretty disorganized - I'm really sorry, it's super late/early for me and I'm exhausted for other reasons - but I hope that that . was what you wanted? hahah

#homestuck #gamzee makara #tavros nitram #gamtav

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chronically-ghosted · 3 months

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i totally agree that it’s ridiculous for people to write fics for films that haven’t been released yet, but the problem isn’t the smut itself. people have every right to write porn if that scratches the itch.

i think your main point is the most important: it’s impossible to write a thoughtful, inspired fic when we don’t even know the story it’s based on. no one knows who this character is or what he’s like.

at this point, everyone should just call a spade a spade and write pedro rpf. all they care about is seeing his face in different situations.

so my earlier post was not so much a statement on Pedro Pascal Character fanfiction/porn, but the commercialization of art and I interpreted the thoughts and opinions of others through the lens of the medium I most often express myself with, which is fanfiction.

let me be clear: i have no problem with smut - pwp or otherwise. people are allowed to write whatever they want, about whoever they want, with whatever tropes make them happy.

my overall focus (and granted it was probably very muddled by the end of those - what, like three reblogs?) was an interrogation of fanfiction as art, and the state of art in this modern era. and after doing some more thinking and listening to more people much smarter than me (thank you to everyone who dm-ed me directly to talk further about this), my opinion is thus: the creation of content (not art) is more ubiquitous today is not because we are getting more stupid as a society, not because of our failing attention spans, not because we are on the brink of moral collapse but because we physically do not have the mental strength to be intellectually curious as a direct result of constant, distracting, emotionally-draining stimuli.

i can explain what i mean below the cut with two primary examples, specifically regarding the shift in fanfiction cult, and yes, the prominence of smutty oneshots in the pedro pascal character fandom of which this blog is a part of.

I have been in various fandoms for almost twenty years. I have been writing fanfiction for almost that same amount of time. In recent years, I've noticed two trends that initially discouraged me, but that I now believe is a symptom of our adjustment to a modern, constantly online era.

A severe lack of engagement within the artistic artifacts of a fandom

The quality of the fanfiction itself (because yes I do consider fanfiction to be an artform) has gone down hill - mostly.

Lack of engagement:

Art is inherently created to be shared. This is especially true for fandom because the community lives or dies by how many people are interacting with each other and sharing ideas (news, theories, fanart, fanfic, etc). If you say a fandom is dead, it means there haven't been any new posts or fic about it in years. So I don't wanna hear it when people say, "oh write for yourself, you shouldn't be chasing engagement" because that is antithetical to the very concept of fanfiction.

In recent years, I have seen and experienced myself engagement in my work only so far as a like or kudo. This is not how it used to be. Message boards (yes I am that old) and niche fandom sites were constantly abuzz with media sharing and excitement, and everyone enjoyed some version of praise (unless you got hit by the antis but they're never fun anyway). Initially I blamed this drop in engagement on laziness: people just want the next thing, they can't be bothered to appreciate the hard work writers put in and they just see content and art as the same thing - stuff to consume.

But I myself am GUILTY of minimal reblogs and comments and I LOVE what I'm writing - the impact certain works leave me with is long, long lasting but for some goddamn reason, I can't sit down and praise the author's works. Am I lazy? Possibly, but this is also not an isolated behavior and it's on the rise: people do not have time to engage with fandom/fanfic like they used to. Most people I know have worked at least two or three jobs at some point in their lives to just to make rent. This gen z is the first generation in DECADES to be worse off economically than their parents. With an interest rate at 8%, who the fuck can afford the security of a home anymore? We work ourselves to the bone for scraps and the realization that The Dream has officially died. And so what do we want to do in the free time we do have? Engage with the very bare minimum. We want to read things that we can at best skim, things we don't have to think about or engage with in any meaningful way. We want a way to turn off the noise of the next apocalypse and sometimes the best we can do is the tap of a thumb.

Which brings me to my next point: what the fuck happened to thoughtful fanfiction?

But this question is inextricably linked to the points above: oneshots are easier to write, faster to write, and if you write fic that is basically "Mad libs porn" (without ever engaging in the actual medium because it is literally not released yet), you are doing the most minimal work for the most amount of engagement. But I can't fault ANYONE for doing that. It feels good to be told your smut is "so hot" or "this exploded my panties" and in this era where the time available to create is so fucking small and minimized of course you're going to write for the most popular character, whether or not you're interested in the source material because we want our art to matter to someone. Intellectual pundits loooove to lambast our "shorter attention spans" but fuck, when are we allowed the time to think - in between this "100 year storm" that's happened twice in the past five years, or the global pandemic that turned millions of deaths into a political punching bag, or the next video of a white woman crying wolf to the police over an innocent black man, or - or - or - or

In a day where reality and the world as we know seems to be holding onto a thread, we turn to comfort: comforting tropes (dbf to rape/kidnap fantasies), comforting fanfic (pwp), and comforting ways to engage with fandom. There is nothing wrong with wanting your art to be appreciated and there's nothing wrong with inherently wrong with pwp - but I do believe its symptomatic of a MUCH larger and more sinister movement within ALL art right now.

I come from the generation who banished fanfic authors for scrubbing off the filing numbers to their fics and publishing it as original content because, in our communities, they were selling out. Fanfiction is inherently an act of rebellion. Every time you write fanfiction you break canon, an established structure with its own rules and boundaries. So by trying to appeal to the masses, to curb your own writing to fit whatever is mainstream, you are doing a disservice to yourself AND to the art of fanfiction. If something you write becomes popular, wonderful, great, you are very lucky and there is nothing wrong with that either. But do not sell out your 13 beloved fans who WILL take the time to leave a comment, who WILL take the time to reblog because your weird little fic spoke to them on a fundamental level and now is with them for the rest of their lives - in favor of a 100 thumb taps.

If you've made it here, thank you very much for reading. I've added some links to some additional references to see how this concept of "populist" art is having a serious negative down turn in the quality of art, but is also not any one individuals personal failings:

Why the world is addicted to background tv by Kayleigh Day

How Modern Audience are failing cinema by Like Stories of Old

Rupi Kaur episode of Rehash podcast

I'm always here to talk fic and art and what makes you excited about your writing. Much love and please rest. We need you here.

#fandom #fandom thoughts #ppcu #populism #fanfiction #the state of art #the discussion of accessibility to art as form of intellectual gatekeeping was fucking fascinating on that podcast episode #rehash

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larytello · 5 months

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I find it funny and sad how Tumblr users are SO CONDITIONED to English language as default they will just NOT interact with posts in other languages whatsoever, no matter how cool the thing is - not even a like and reblog without adding comments or tags to it

Small rant ahead with something that happened this week AND I SHOULD POST IT IN MY OWN LANGUAGE TO PROVE A POINT but I won't and it'll still prove a point.

I have a Paw Patrol sideblog. It's a very active blog where I post, reblog, receive lots of asks constantly, I post my art there, etc. I got more active followers there than here on my personal blog and that's saying something (my personal has over 10x more followers than the Paw Patrol one AND STILL that one is more active lmao). People are always liking the posts/reblogs, always adding a comment, always reblogging with comments and/or nice/funny tags, sending asks. Literally it's very active.

Last week I reblogged there a post I found, it was a video of a mom and her daughter playing together with Paw Patrol toys and a handcrafted Lookout Tower made out of cardboard. THAT TOWER LOOKS SO COOL. It's amazing and the mom made it herself for her daughter and they were playing together so happily. Naturally this reblog should get a lot of likes and some reblogs, right?

It didn't get any. It's the only reblog so far there that didn't get a single bit of interaction.

Do you know why?

The mom and daughter are Brazilians. They speak Brazilian Portuguese. The text in the post is in Brazilian Portuguese. I added a long comment myself ALSO in Brazilian Portuguese (it is my first language as I'm Brazilian too) saying how cool it was, joking about the prices of official Lookout Tower toys (absurdly expensive around here) and that I've been planning myself to also build the Lookout Tower and the Paw Patroller with cardboard as well but I'm still in the first sketching stages, but seeing her project really inspired me to go ahead and continue working on my own.

I even followed her blog and she followed me back too. She posts a bunch of cool stuff and toys and games she creates with her kids, it's really AWESOME. I could spend HOURS looking at their posts.

But as she posted in Brazilian Portuguese and I commented also in Brazilian Portuguese and added tags ALSO in Brazilian Portuguese, it looks like NO ONE BATTED AN EYE AT IT.

What, are y'all afraid of using GOOGLE TRANSLATE???? How the fuck do you think I learned English ON MY OWN to interact with people on the internet in the first place when I was like 13, 14 years old??? I didn't even have English teachers at school and high school, I legit learned on my own because the world wasn't interested in trying to communicate with me, I was the one who had to adapt to communicate with it all.

Also I'd just like to say I love Tumblr community but y'all are SERIOUSLY LOSING INTERACTION POINTS to fucking DEVIANTART LMFAOOOOOO AT LEAST THERE PEOPLE KEEP MAKING AN EFFORT TO TRANSLATE MY OLD POSTS IN PORTUGUESE EVEN NOWADAYS XDDDD

You don't even need to learn another language like I did! YOU HAVE ONLINE TRANSLATORS. Back in my time, Google Translate was ABSURDLY AWFUL when translating anything to Brazilian Portuguese and vice-versa (it still is, but way less awful now over the years it took to better itself about it).

I USED TO TRANSLATE STUFF LITERALLY MANUALLY USING A DICTIONARY. You have the instant translation technology, FUCKING USE IT, YOU COWARDS

#Literally NO ONE INTERACTED #NOT EVEN A LIKE #ISTG

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theresthesnitch · 3 months

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It's about community, y'all.

I’ve found myself recently in a fandom interaction that has left me feeling very uncomfortable, and I want to talk about it.

I will not be sharing usernames or fic names, so please do not publicly mention who they are if you figure out who this is.

About a month ago, I was messaged by an account that doesn’t follow me, asking me to read their friend’s fic. The initial message was very flattering–their friend was a big fan of my work, and it would be so nice for them to get a comment from me on it. Honestly, it was such a sweet message, and I said I was busy right then, but I’d make time to read it.

When I opened the fic, it was a username that I didn’t recognize. Which is not terribly surprising, but I do recognize and notice regular commenters and people who regularly interact with me on Tumblr. (Which, by the way, is a good thing. These people all have a special place in my heart, and I love seeing their interactions.) This person also had no other fics published to AO3, and no bookmarks on their account.

I am an email hoarder, which means that every comment, kudo, and tumblr follow I get an email notification for is still stored in my email. I searched my inbox for the writer’s username, and nothing came up. I don’t mean nothing significant, I mean not one single comment, kudos, or follow from the account. I searched the account who messaged me, and got the same result. No one single comment, kudo, or follow.

The thing that may not be immediately obvious from the outside is that many writers connect with each other as well. We share fic recs, snippets, and plot bunnies. We also talk about comments that we love, fans that we enjoy seeing in our notes, and significant interactions.

Which is to say that the first thing I did was drop this fic with an explanation of what happened into the “fic recs” channel of our discord. Immediately, I find out that this is not a unique situation. Many of the writers in that discord were also approached, either by the actual writer or a friend, and asked to read it.

I messaged the account again and asked if their friend was operating under a new username because I didn’t recognize them. Which is valid and I know people change their usernames sometimes. The friend responded that they did, but that the friend wouldn’t like them sharing it. I looked into the tumblr that messaged me then, and the account had been set up one singular day before they messaged me, with nothing more than a few art reblogs on their blog.

At this point, I’m getting a really weird feeling from this, and I decide to just not respond anymore. I’m not going to call them out, but I’m also not going to engage.

Yesterday, the “friend’s” account sent me another message, asking if I’d read it and telling me again that they can give their friend’s old account name if I really want it. They also mention that their friend read through and commented on a bunch of my older fics–which they did. Between May 24 and June 1, they left 17 comments on some of the very first fics I ever wrote and published. However, the way she tells me this feels very much like a quid pro quo - I commented, now where’s yours?

I jumped back into the discords of some of my mutuals, and asked about this again. It turns out that all of us have gotten a weird vibe from them, and that this all feels like such a manipulative, creepy way to ask for exposure on your fic.

And, because I’m me and needed more information, I went back to their fic and looked through the comments and bookmarks.

There’s an ongoing discussion in many writer’s circles about interactions being lower, particularly comments, which you’ve probably seen crop up around Tumblr as well. While I don’t want to rehash this discussion here, the basic consensus is that most established writers are seeing fewer comments than ever, even when there’s a significant number of kudos.

This fic has a not insignificant number of kudos, but a surprisingly large amount of comments and bookmarks, comparatively. Enough that just seeing the stats shocked me. I looked through the comments and saw lots of well known fandom writers, as well as some otherwise blank accounts. It strikes me as very odd–especially from a new, blank account and for a one shot without chapters to build up an audience.

I jumped back in the discord and asked my mutuals about this again. Several people described really weird interactions with this individual. I heard stories about this person being really flattering when they initially reached out, vaguely complimenting the writer, then completely ghosting after the writer comments on their fics.

I’ve debated for a bit about whether to post on this or not. The entire interaction has left such a bad taste in my mouth. I’ve no doubt that the writer and their friend are the same person, and I suspect some of their comments are fabricated as well. It’s elaborate, to a weird degree, and I feel so uncomfortable by it.

The thing is, I love talking to people who have read my work. I love getting sent a fic rec. I read so little at this point just due to life and limited time that basically everything I read is something a mutual wrote or something recommended to me. I also really love the “it would mean so much to me if you read this” message, but only if it’s genuine. I have read first fics of new writers who sent me their own work, with their name attached, and asked me to.

Fandom writing is a community, and that works best when we have a little give and take. But when you’re out there manipulating interactions, building up fake flattery to only not follow through, that breaks down our community. It’s unfortunate, manipulative, and honestly, a bit creepy.

I don’t know if they just thought we (the writing community) wouldn’t notice, but we did. I’ve talked to other writers about this, and if any of my mutuals had a similar experience, I’d love to hear about it.

To my “friend” who wrote this fic, I know you’re proud of your fic, but you’re not doing yourself any favors with this behavior. I will not be reading it. I also will not be responding to you or “your friend” any further. I wish you luck, and I hope you find what you’re looking for.

#fandom etiquette #fandom writing community #fandom interaction

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ofsappho · 27 days

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HOW BADLY DO *YOU* WANT A HEARTLESS UPDATE?

Because I’ve got one that I’m working on…. BUT

(Inspired by @cuckoo-on-a-string )

I want to make art that helps do good. I want my fic to be a haven for the underrepresented, the marginalized, fat people, queer people, disabled people, people of color.

But making art isn’t enough. So I offer a proposition: I will complete and post this chapter of Heartless IF AND ONLY IF Heartless readers collectively donate FIFTY ($50) USD to this gofundme for my friend Lina

Lina is an incredibly brave and strong young woman. She’s a 25 year old woman from Gaza and a new mother. I first got to know Lina when I started donating and boosting the gofundme she made when she was NINE MONTHS PREGNANT to help evacuate her and her husband to Egypt, so she could safely deliver her son Omar.

Remember that miscarriages are up over 300% in Gaza. Remember that tens of thousands of babies, some born and some still in their mothers’ wombs, have been bombed, starved to death, torn into pieces, died from illness, all because of the illegal Israeli occupation and genocide against Palestinians.

We refused to let Lina and her son Omar and her husband Yousef become another family exterminated by Israel. We raised enough money for Lina and her husband to get through the Rafah Crossing into Egypt, where Lina had Omar in a hospital, with anesthesia, antibiotics, doctors tending to her. Not a tent in a bombed refugee camp with no food, water, or medicine.

Now Lina is raising money to help get her family out of Gaza, along with the money necessary to help sustain her and her husband + son’s life in Egypt. Her brother is a heroic paramedic who helped saved countless Gazan lives in the past months of the genocide until he was too injured to help any longer.

I myself have already donated a lot of money towards her cause (I mean in the hundreds). But I can do more and we can do more. If even TEN Heartless readers give $5 USD, we’ll have hit the goal and I will update AS SOON AS HUMANLY POSSIBLE.

How does this work? Send me proof that you’ve donated (whatever amount you can) via my ask inbox or my direct messages, I will reblog this post to let everyone know how close we are to our goal + check with Lina to make sure she’s got the donations, and that’s it! Easy peasy.

Every dollar counts. You can also share her gofundme with YOUR friends and family, ask them to donate. If they do, send me the same proof and I’ll count it towards our goal!!!

Through collective people power, we saved Omar. He and Lina would’ve died in Gaza if Lina had to give birth there. He is an innocent baby boy who has the right to grow up in a peaceful, loving, healthy environment with his family. He deserves that.

Please only give what you are able to. If you can’t give anything, share Lina’s gofundme with anyone who can give. Help us save Lina’s family and give baby Omar the chance to grow up, and get some fic out of it.

#heartless #call of duty #cod #ghost Riley #Simon Riley #ghost cod #cod ghost #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #Simon Riley x you #Simon Riley x reader #cod mw #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #call of duty modern warfare 3 #call of duty modern warfare 2

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lttleghostlemon · 3 months

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Putting in my two cents for anyone who follows me, and in the future will see my posts. On the topic of fandom such as Coraline or Good Omens, I am going to continue enjoying them. I already own the books of both, and also dvds of both, so I won’t be giving him money by watching either. Both of these pieces of media are a huge part of myself that I cannot simply do away with. However, I can do away with the creator. In this situation it’s a “guilty until proven innocent” thing. Not the other way around.

I’ve loved the Coraline movie before I even knew who Neil was. I am not going to throw it out because yes, I would be throwing out NG, but also the 500 people, who spent 4 years of their life working on the beautiful stop motion within the movie. Throwing out Good Omens gets rid of Neil, but also the countless amount of film crew, animators, editors, actors, background actors. And also Terry Pratchett.

I am going to continue to appreciation these works for the other people involved. However I will no longer be supporting Neil himself. He is guilty until proven innocent because what he did is disgusting. I mainly am fixation on BBC Ghosts at the moment, but if I post about Good Omens or Coraline again in the future, this is my stance. *Edit 2 days after posting. I did not say I WOULD be posting about this content anytime soon, since my fixations lay elsewhere atm. But any future reblogs fit with my statement. That I continue to enjoy the media, and will forever deeply hate the artist. Because hes 1: a zionist, 2: supported CP. and 3: a rapist. I will probably no longer post any art since I would loved to not be mauled by 30 yr olds on tumblr. So yes, I will enjoy Coraline, I will enjoy Good Omens, though more privately with friends now rather than tumblr or insta. However I will forever bring up how disgusting this man is.

#good omens #good omens 2 #neil gaiman #coraline #coraline laika

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yogurtkags · 2 months

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❝ IF NOT FOR YOU ❞ — semi eita

— prologue. bloom

"when the evening pulls the sun down, and the day is almost through, oh, the whole world, it is sleeping, but my world is you"

series masterlist

semi started playing the guitar when he was 12. it was his grandfather’s old rosewood acoustic guitar, carefully propped up on his lap and hilariously disproportionate with his little body. it was definitely much too large for him, but he was very insistent on making it work, small hands attempting to play his very first chord.

his sudden interest in music came as a surprise to his family, he always was more into sports as most boys his age were. when asked what brought it on, he would rub the back of his neck and avoid eye contact, shyly mumbling under his breath, “do i need a reason to?”

truth be told, it was because of you.

your parents on the other hand, were not as open minded about your dabble into the performing arts, more focused on your academic prowess and book smarts. they emphasised that you should lean into it and avoid distractions, filling your schedule with tutoring and extra-curriculars. as much as you craved to, learning to play an instrument was out of the question.

free time only came in the evenings, when your mother would allow you two hours to do whatever you wanted, so long as you were within the vicinity and told her where exactly you’d be.

regardless of how exhausted you were by the end of your studies, without fail, you’d find yourself knocking on your neighbour’s door. the semi’s.

the two of you were best friends, having lived in the same neighbourhood since birth and gone to the same elementary school and junior high — you were always orbiting around his solar system, constellations intertwined.

you both loved music, and to sing, god you loved to sing. draped blankets and hushed vocalisation could only do so much to stifle the projection of your voice, to satiate your passion within the confines of the four walls in your bedroom.

the pages of your journal were filled with scribbled lyrics, little doodles of music notes scattered along the empty corners like stars peeking through the cloudy midnight sky. the contents were, well, a little superficial, for a little tween girl with problems no bigger than familial academic pressure, but it was what made you happy, and that’s all that mattered.

semi was always content with just listening to you, bright eyes sparkling in awe at the way you effortlessly carried tunes and melodies. as a young boy, he wanted nothing more than for the world to hear you, committing all the power in myself into becoming better, and being a vessel to bring your music to life.

there and then, both of you made a promise to each other — he’d one day become the best guitarist and you, the best singer, and together you’d play the best music the world has ever heard.

just like clockwork, everyday as the sun dipped below the horizon, you’d gather at the foot of the maple tree in his backyard. this very tree, a safe haven of carved initials and music notes, a little bubble carrying the innocent hopes and dreams of two children, a lifelong promise.

taglist. open (send an ask / comment to be added!) @wyrcan @froyaoya @cheesypuffkins87

reblogs & interactions are always appreciated !

#ᯓ★ : written in the stars !#semi eita #semi x reader #semi eita x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu #hq #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #dividers: @/roseraris

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maximilliansblog · 8 months

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Welcome Home Hyacinth Theory 🏠🪻🐛

Hello Tumblr! Most Welcome Home theories are just little bits and pieces or “Wally is evil, guys look!”/”Wally is not evil! He is a goober!” etc.

This theory is fully fledged and provides a plot and evidence. I call it the Welcome Home “Hyacinth” theory, after the myth that it is based on. This will be a very long post so here is a TLDR: Julie kills Eddie while they are playing croquette-bowling out of jealousy because he is getting too close to Frank, who is supposed to be her boyfriend/best friend within the show. Either just Eddie or everyone involved gets replaced, except for Wally, who witnessed everything. This is why we have all of those videos of Wally dissociating.

I have been sitting around in my toom rambling to myself about this theory like a madman for over a week so I decided to share it.

Please reference this post from @/partycoffin (the creator of Welcome Home) when discussing Welcome Home and be respectful in the comments and reblogs.

Extra information from @theneighborhoodwatch:

Welcome Home Observation Document

Welcome Home Livestream Trivia

Welcome Home Archive Links + Backup Screenshots

Fanmade Welcome Home Wiki (I don't recommend the Fandom wiki)

Extra information on exploring the website from @angel-lyah:

Welcome Home Website Secrets

Alright, let’s get into it! I have evidence to back up every single one of those claims, and I will include it in this post.

I want to be very thorough with explaining this. I’ll start by establishing that there are three main plots within Welcome Home (that I have noticed, anyways):

The plot of the late 60’s - early 70’s TV show, Welcome Home - only related to published episodes, books, audios, etc. that would have been shown to the public at the time of airing Welcome Home

“Behind the show” - feelings and actions of the puppets outside of the show (such as Frank and Eddie being a couple, or Frank being nonbinary)

The Welcome Home Restoration Project - people working to restore the TV show, Welcome Home, and find any and all information related to it and who made it

Okay so for the rest of this essay, when I mention BtS, it is related to the “behind the show” plot. I will color these things blue. When I write WtS, it is related to the “within the show” plot. I will color these things green. When I write WHRP, it is related to the Welcome Home Restoration Project. I will color these things pink. I will also mention things that have been said either on Clown’s Tumblr blog, Clown’s Twitter, or old streams. I will say CS, meaning “Clown source” to denote these things and color them orange. Clown source and behind the show areas often overlap, so Clown source information is dominant over behind the show information (if it is both I will just color it orange). Good? Good.

Now let’s establish our characters (only the ones related to this theory) and their relationships to one another. We’ll go alphabetically, starting with Eddie, then moving onto Frank, Julie, and Wally.

I’m going to assume that if you are reading this, you have already visited the website (clownillustration.com) and have a basic understanding of who Eddie is. So I will only focus on the elements of his character that will be relevant in this theory.

Eddie (WtS) is clumsy and overworks himself. He is often dragged into Julie’s games. His house (post office) looks like this:

Note the hyacinth flowers and the butterfly. Eddie (BtS) loves Frank. (CS) He is married to Frank in one art on Clown’s Tumblr. BY THE WAY IT TOOK FOREVER TO FIND THIS IMAGE!!!! THEY ARE IN THE BOTTOM LEFT CORNER!!

Frank (WtS) is Julie’s boyfriend as it is implied that they are a couple within the show (I know a lot of us don’t like hearing this, but remember the three plots) (also for everyone that is going to argue with me on this, go look on their little profiles in the neighborhood section of the website and come back to me) and best friend. His house looks like this:

Note the sunflowers. Frank (BtS) loves Eddie.

(CS) As I said before, in one art on Clown’s Tumblr, Eddie and Frank are married (you can tell by the rings on their fingers in that image) . Frank is nonbinary but uses he/him pronouns (Clown refers to Frank on his blog with only he/him pronouns, so that is what I will use. Nonbinary people do not have to use they/them pronouns! Pronouns are not equal to gender!)

(WtS) Julie is a rainbow monster. Her thing is that she likes to make up and play games. She seems to be very strong (perhaps related to her being a rainbow monster), as she can easily lift Wally and is indirectly referenced to [throw a baseball very well] by Barnaby in the Live Interview audio. She also incorporates bowling into a lot of games where it is unnecessary. She seems to be immature, which is usually used to make her a playful character. Her and Frank are a couple. In several arts, her horns are different shapes or even nonexistent, implying that she has some ability to change her form. Her house looks like this:

Note the heart motif throughout the design. (BtS) Julie is best friends with Frank. (CS) She is genderfluid (she is only referred to using she/her pronouns on Clown’s blog, so that is what I will use).

(WtS) Wally is the main character in Welcome Home. His house is alive and is named Home. Home is often considered to be a ninth neighbor. Wally often communicates for Home. (WHRP) Wally signs Home’s name in the guestbook (as Home does not have hands) (please stop with the tentacles I have seen the art please stop for the love of god where did that even come from). (WtS) The other neighbors frequently ignore and talk over Wally, but he doesn’t seem to mind, saying that he loves all of his friends in the live interview audio.

Okay so now that that is established, let’s look at some promotional art. Promotional art is not necessarily canon and may contain outdated designs, but may hint at the plot of Welcome Home.

There is one more artwork that I would like to add, but it is on Clown’s KoFi. Here is a link to it that you can look at if you are subscribed to Clown’s KoFi:

[link to Clown’s KoFi here]

I won’t describe the image because some of you may not be subscribed to Clown’s KoFi. But if you are, you will see that the image supports my theory.

While we are discussing that image, I would also like to say that I believe that the puppets are some kind of biological organisms. I don’t have much evidence for this right now, but I may make a theory in the future.

We will come back to those promotional arts soon. Right now, let’s look at Frank and Eddie’s houses and discuss some symbolism and mythology.

Frank’s house has sunflowers outside of it. Sunflowers are a symbol of Apollo. Eddie has hyacinths outside of his post office, obviously a symbol of Hyacinthus. Hyacinthus and Apollo were lovers, but Hyacinthus tragically died. Let me tell the story so we have context. (I am really into Greek mythology by the way, it’s always been a special interest since middle school but I am also a Hellenic pagan, you should follow my witchcraft and paganism blog, creatively named @maxiswitchcraftandpaganblog)

So Apollo, god of the sun, art, archery, and LOTS of various other things, loved Hyacinthus, who was a mortal Spartan man. And Hyacinthus loved him too, by the way. The god of the (west? don’t feel like googling it) wind, Zephyrus, was jealous of Hyacinthus, because he also loved Apollo.

One day, Apollo and Hyacinthus were playing discus (like frisbee but the frisbee is giant and made of metal, kind of like a shield). Apollo threw the discus to Hyacinthus, but Zephyrus blew the discus off course with the wind, causing it to hit Hyacinthus in the head and kill him. Apollo created the hyacinth flower from Hyacinthus’ blood as he died, but in some myths made him a god. (read more on Apollo and Hyacinthus here)

I’m going to draw some parallels here. Frank = Apollo, Eddie = Hyacinthus, Julie = Zephyrus. Now Frank’s and Eddie’s parallels make sense because of the flowers, but where did I get Julie=Zephyrus from? Recall that (WtS) Julie and Frank are supposed to be a couple. Now, (BtS) Julie may or may not like Frank in that way, but she certainly enjoys being close to him as his best friend. Since she is already established as an immature character, it would make sense that she would be jealous seeing Frank get closer to Eddie.

Pause. So WtS, Frank and Julie are together. BtS, Frank and Eddie are together. If these are separate, then what is Julie jealous about? (WtS) Frank has been seen getting closer to Eddie even in the official material of the show. An example of this is him telling Eddie that he works too hard at the end of the “Eddie’s Big Lift” storybook record. So his BtS love for Eddie is leaking into the WtS canon. That is a problem for Julie, who is supposed to be Frank’s girlfriend WtS. So she comes up with an idea to fix this, much like the jealous god, Zephyrus.

So what does she do? Let’s turn our attention to the “Just So” song demo. This song was never finished with instrumentals, and for a reason. The puppets function as actors in the show, as it is obvious that they have their own free will, and Julie does something that the writers do not expect later in this episode. So the song was never finished because the episode was ruined.

In the “Just So” song demo, Frank and Julie are about to play croquette bowling. It was supposed to be just croquette, as Frank put on his croquette bow tie, but last minute, Julie added bowling to the mix.

Wally knocks on the door and interrupts their song, saying that Home wants to play croquette bowling too. This implies that Julie told someone else that they would be playing croquette bowling after she added bowling. I feel like Wally and Home overheard Julie telling Eddie that they would be playing croquette bowling. This would make sense, as Wally often stands by and listens while the other neighbors talk. It is not unusual for Eddie to participate in Julie’s games, either, as we see from Julie playing “business woman in the big city” with him. [add a photo]

The song recording ends before we see them playing croquette bowling together. But I have a piece of evidence to tell us how it ends. Look at this promotional art again.

You probably assumed that the figure in the back was holding a hammer, but that could actually be a croquette mallet!

It’s covered in some gory-looking stuff, probably from Eddie. Now look at the flower. Whose eyes look like that? Almond-shaped, round pupils. Only one character: Wally. Wally was a witness, which would make sense for him, since he often watches on as the other neighbors do things.

Julie is holding the flower in front of her, looking innocent. This is a stretch, but I think that this might be symbolism for her saying that she didn’t do it on purpose, Wally saw the whole thing, ask him! And Wally doesn’t know what to do. I don’t know what he does from there.

Maybe this image is a clue? I genuinely don’t know. Once again, promotional art is not necessarily canon, but we can use the concepts from it in theories.

This next part is also a bit of a stretch. The neighbors having a memory of something like that happening would ruin their “acting” (I think they are just being recorded as they do what they would naturally do). The show can’t have that. The solution? Replace everyone involved.

Now go back and look in the promotional art section and look at that art of Frank. It looks like Frank is laying among extra puppet parts. They have extras!

And this is why Wally is dissociating in the videos we see when we click on the bugs. They did not replace him, because like the neighbors, they didn’t even notice he was there.

Okay yeah that’s the theory. It was really hard to get this into a coherent Google Doc and gather all the links. I was just rambling to myself about this in my room over and over pacing around for like a week. But yeah here you go, hope it's a good theory, sorry if it's not lol please be nice to me

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