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gay-dorito-dust · 2 months

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How’d they react to finding you sleeping anywhere but the bed…

Dick: sharing the dog bed with Hayley (fail):

At first he thought something was wrong when he didn’t hear you or Hayley greet him home and soon began to search the spy for you both.

So the moment he finds you fast asleep on Hayley’s dog bed with Hayley tucked closely into your chest, head resting underneath your chin. His heart immeditly melted and his phone was out and taking photos nearly every 0.5 seconds, only until he was forced to stop due to how much storage they took up but he didn’t regret it.

Not one bit. He even has one printed out that he kept on him to look at whenever he felt as though he needed to be reminded of how he had waiting back home for him.

You both were effortlessly cute to Dick, he couldn’t help it but feel a little left out as he then tries to join you in the dog bed, only to almost ends up capsizing the three of you and waking both you and Hayley, who began licking his face as her tail smacks you in the arm repeatedly.

‘What were you trying to do?’ You asked Dick, sitting up.

Dick pouted. ‘Join in the fun.’

‘We were sleeping in a dog bed, how’s that fun.’ You said, not bothering to add the fact that you had accidentally fell asleep on Hayley’s dog bed because you were waiting up for him but failed.

‘Fun to me is wherever you and Hayley are.’ Dick answered truthfully.

You smiled as you kissed his cheek. ‘You’re such a dork, you know that right.’ You told him.

‘Yes. And?’ He says cheekily, more than happy to be home with his little family.

Bruce: in the Batmobile:

Alfred told him where you were and that you best be moved to a more comfortable place then the passenger seat of the Batmobile.

How you got in there was a mystery to both men but what was more impressive was how you could possibly sleep against those hard rich leather seats in the first place.

Bruce couldn’t blow but let out a little chuckle when he opened the side door, just to see you with your face half pressed against the seats before jolting yourself awake.

‘Wha- I didn’t do nothing officer it was the dog.’ You said groggily as you tried to blink the sleep from your eyes as they tried to bring reality into focus.

‘Have a good nap did we?’ Bruce asks, finding some amusement in your half asleep nonsense.

‘Why, who’s asking?’ You replied.

‘Your consciousness.’ Bruce joked sarcastically. ‘Come on let’s get you to bed before you develop a-‘

‘Ow my neck.’ You groaned as you held a hand to your neck the moment you tried to move it.

‘-Crooked neck.’ Bruce sighs as he offers you a hand. ‘Come on, let’s go find Alfred so that we can alleviate you of this pain.’ You pouted as you grabbed onto his hand and letting him pull you out of the Batmobile. ‘Alfred is going to scold me isn’t he?’ You asked. ‘Yes, I’m afraid so.’ Bruce answered as he helps guide you out of the Batcave.

Alfred’s scoldings were nothing to scoff at, and Bruce would know as he’s been on the receiving end of a few before in the past. After all getting scolded by Alfred was enough to set a stubborn man straight.

‘Damn.’ You muttered.

Damian: in the barn, on top of Goliath:

He didn’t have to look far, he knew you’d be in the barn but what he wasn’t expecting was for you to be fast asleep on top of his demonic dragon bat, whom had draped a protective wing over you as though it were swaddling you in an extremely warm blanket.

He had told you about the story of how he met Goliath and took him home on more then one occasion, as it was secretly his favourite story because it helped him with his own internal struggles on who he should be, and also how his past doesn’t define him, but what he chooses to do in the future does.

So seeing you cuddled up to Goliath without an ounce of care made him smile a little to himself at the prospect of you accepting him for who he was truly, rather than believe what other people viewed him as. You stood out of the crowd rather than follow it and Damian couldn’t be more grateful for you sticking by him, even through the extremely tough times where even he thought he went too far with his outbursts towards you.

‘Tt. Idiot.’ He says affectionately as he walks further into the barn, stopping along the way to pet BatCow and Jerry the Turkey. ‘Aren’t they?’ He asks both animals who only blinked at him as they mindlessly chewed on their food. Damian hums. ‘You’re right, they may be an idiot but they’re still my idiot at the end of the day.’

Damian ends up falling asleep against BatCow’s side as Jerry the Turkey made himself comfortable on his lap.

Jason: kitchen counter:

Him and Roy have a bet on where Jason would find you asleep next.

It had happened way too often for them that they’d hates themselves forever for not making a game out of it at any point in their lives.

This time Roy betted that you’d fall asleep on the kitchen counter, whereas Jason believes you’ll fall asleep against the window sill.

So when Jason got back home late one night after patrol, he immeditly went to look for you at the window sill. Nothing. ‘Damn it Roy.’ He cursed under his breath as he then walked into the kitchen, praying that he wouldn’t have to tell his friend that he won the bet for the eighth consecutive time.

Only for you to be fast asleep on the fucking kitchen counter, just as Roy predicted you would. Jason felt as though his friend was cheating somehow because it didn’t make sense for him to have correctly predicted where you’d be found sleeping as often as he did. Unfortunately for Jason, he couldn’t back up his claim as to why he thought Roy cheated, for there wasn’t any substantial evidence to prove that Roy was cheating.

And so with a heavy heart, Jason walked over and pressed a kiss to your forehead before pulling out his phone to text Roy that he has won…again, and pocketing his phone as he carried you off to your shared room. ‘I love you chipmunk but you’ve got to start sleeping in places where I’ll surefire win the bet against Roy next time okay?’ He says against your head, kissing it.

‘Okay. I’ll try.’ You murmured.

‘That’s my baby.’ Jason said as he tucked you into bed before following suit.

The next day, Roy was smirking like a Cheshire Cat as he talked about his eighth consecutive victory, whereas Jason looked about ready to strangle the next person who looked at him funny.

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convolutedblasphemy · 3 months

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Cursed Idea: Hazbin Hotel as an open world RPG with romance options

The only characters you can't romance at all are Charlie, Vaggie, Alastor and Vox (because he's just too fixated on Alastor)

You can start a QPR with Alastor but this is insanely hard and only works if you (1) never upset him or Rosie on that route, (2) your choices fall at least 80% in line with his twisted moral compass that you have no idea what it is, (3) you freed him and (4) you keep offering him dishes you cooked with the cannibal cookbook (obtainable from the 666 news studio) from "ingredients" you looted from enemies you killed. This only works if you chose a melee type weapon. Alternatively you can buy the ingredients from Rosie's Emporium but they're pretty expensive.

Lvl 10 friendship with Alastor rewards you by letting you scritch his ears and gives you a tail you can equip on him if he is in your party.

You can kill every sinner in hell as long as you own an angelic weapon, except for the overlords. The exception to this is Valentino, whom you can kill whenever as long as your level is high enough. He is the only boss fight that is not level- or story-locked.

You can be redeemed and go to heaven if you get 10000 heaven points by doing good deeds and helping people. If your first boss fight is Valentino, you win and choose to kill him, you get 1000 heaven points

Spending 50k at the Hellmart gets you Alastor's cane to equip on your character. If you destroy every TV at the Hellmart, you unlock a special achievement titled "Radio killed the Video Star" but it also deducts 3 friendship levels from your bond with Vox.

You can pick a romantic and sexual orientation for your character and there's an achievement called "unbridled asexual rage" that you get if you consistently murder the first 30 people who hit on you. If your character is male, this includes Angel Dust who hits on you in the tutorial.

Every story-relevant character you kill prematurely gets replaced by an egg boi. This makes the cutscenes very interesting.

Killing both Valentino and Angel Dust is recommended for players who might be triggered by the Valentino and Angel Dust questline, as they will both be replaced by egg bois with limited animation.

Romancing Valentino locks your heaven points bar until you decide to kill him.

You can get kicked out of heaven again if you commit crimes. You can make soul deals in heaven. Every soul you have comes with you to hell. Bringing Alastor's mother to hell deducts 5 friendship levels from your bond with him but unlocks a heartfelt cutscene where they reunite.

You cannot bring Emily, Sera, Adam or Lute to hell with you. Adam respawns in hell if you kill him though. Then you can forge a soul deal with him if you're smart about it.

Killing Lilith before the story forces you to do her boss fight replaces her with a giant egg boi.

Killing Lilith frees Alastor and raises your approval rating with him significantly.

Killing Rosie or his mum permanently makes Alastor hate you

One of the first dialogue options you get with Adam is (Bite him...) where you violently chomp down on his arm and he screams like a little girl

Other characters the game lets you violently bite include: Angel Dust, Sir Pentious, Vox, Valentino, Lucifer and St. Peter.

Weapons are customizable in appearance. Notable skins for weapons include: severed arm, radio on a stick, wet fish (with sound effects!), angelic spear, Cherri's bombs, Adam's axe and many more

Marrying and immediately divorcing Lucifer will lower your approval rating with Charlie

You can customize your room at the hotel. Divorcing Lucifer unlocks a special crying Lucifer-esque rubber duck that you can put on your shelf.

If your approval rating with Husk is high enough, he will keep bringing dead mice to your doorstep that you can either throw away or feed to Alastor

You can pretty much feed any being to Alastor whether raw or cooked, as long as you have it in your inventory.

Obtaining enough souls will give you access to the overlord meeting room in Carmilla's house where you can obtain "rotting severed angel head", which you can use as a special ingredient in the Jambalaya recipe from the cannibal cookbook

You can enter Vox's room during your stealth mission in the V Tower, which lets you steal several Alastor-themed decorations for your own room including the Alastor body pillow, 3 Alastor posters including the beach art of him, an Alastor figurine and a cursed cat Alastor plushie.

Every character at the hotel has one of those figurines. Collecting them gives you rewards and if you put all of them on your shelf you get a "Found Family" achievement.

You can burn Valentino's studio down during the V Tower stealth mission. Angel Dust's figurine is in his room so be sure to grab that before you burn the studio.

Other locations for the figurines include: Charlie's room (Charlie), Hotel Room in Heaven (Vaggie), Casino (Husk), Utility Closet at the "Consent" club (Niffty), nest of giant hell chicken (Pentious) and Duck Pond (Lucifer)

There's a Voxtagram function in your phone where you periodically receive new posts from the characters with comment options that they reply to. You can repeatedly be mean to Vox online. This is a running gag and Vox eventually complains on TV about getting cyberbullied.

You can turn on the little radio in the hotel lobby or get a customizable radio as a gift from Alastor that you can put in your room. You can select between playing Alastor's radio show, Alastor's radio show from when he was alive, the Hazbin Hotel soundtrack, screams and Mimzy's singing.

Achieving lvl 10 friendship with Alastor also unlocks camera mode for him. Now he no longer glitches out on photos as long as you equip an old-fashioned camera.

Romancing St. Peter lets you persuade him to smuggle you into heaven whenever you want to go.

There's a billboard near the V Tower that displays a slideshow of Vivziepop tweets where she engages in her own fandom discourse

If you keep walking ahead in the swamp in Alastor's room you eventually fall out of the map and respawn at the nearest unlocked waypoint.

You can adopt a little fawn from Alastor's swamp and a rabid raccoon you can find in a trashcan behind the hotel. If you do not take the raccoon to the vet first, there is a rabies breakout at the hotel.

You can interact with the alcohol bottles at the hotel bar and pour them down the sink. This lowers Husk's approval rating with you.

Might make a part 2 of this

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steveyockey · 3 days

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To be aware you might be trans but unwilling to do anything about it is to create endlessly bigger boxes within which to contain yourself. When you are a child, that box might encompass only yourself and your parents. By the time you are a gainfully employed adult, that box will contain multitudes, and the thought of disrupting it will grow ever more unthinkable. So you cease to think of yourself as a person on some level; you think not of what you want but what everybody expects from you. You do your best not to make waves, and you apologize, if only implicitly, for existing. You stop being real and start being a construct, and eventually, you decide the construct is just who you are, and you swaddle yourself up in it, and maybe you die there. There is still time until there isn’t.

This reading of TV Glow’s deliberately anticlimactic, noncathartic ending cuts against the transition narrative you typically see in movies and TV, in which a trans person self-accepts, transitions, and lives a happier life. Owen gets trapped in a space where he knows what he must do to live an authentic life but simply refuses to take those steps because, well, burying yourself alive is a terrifying thing to do. The transition narrative posits a trans existence as, effectively, a binary switch between “man” and “woman” that gets flipped one way or another, but to make our lives so binary is to miss how trans existences possess an inherent liminality.

Humans’ lives unfold in a constant state of becoming until death, but trans people are uniquely keyed in to what this means thanks to the simple fact of our identities. You can get lost in that liminality, too, forever trapped in a midnight realm of your own making, stuck between what you believe is true (I am a nice man with a good family and a good job, and I love my life) and what you know, deep in your most terrified heart of hearts, is real (I am a girl suffocating in a box).

And yet if you want to read the film as being about the dangerous allure of nostalgia, you’re not wrong. I Saw the TV Glow totally supports that interpretation, too! But in tempting you with that reading, the film creates a trap for cis viewers that will be all too familiar to trans viewers. Somewhere in the middle of Maddy’s story about The Pink Opaque being real, you will make a choice between “This kid has lost it!” and “No. Go with her, Owen,” and in asking you to make that choice, TV Glow is simulating the act of self-accepting a trans identity.

See, the grimmer read of the film’s ending truly is a nihilistic one. It leaves no hope, no potential for growth, no exit. Yet you must actively choose to read that ending as nihilistic. If you are cis and the end of I Saw the TV Glow left you with a gnawing sense of dissatisfaction, a weird but hard-to-pin-down feeling that something had broken, and a melancholy bordering on horror — congratulations, this movie gave you contact-high gender dysphoria.

In an infinite number of possible universes, there is at least one where I am still living “as a man,” embracing my fictionality, avoiding looking at how much more raw and real I feel when I “pretend” to be a woman. I think about that guy sometimes. I hope he’s okay.

Consider, then, my cis reader, that TV Glow is for both you and me, but it is maybe most of all for him. I hope he sees it. I hope he breaks down crying in the bathroom afterward. I hope he, after so many years locked inside himself, hears the promise of more life through the hiss of TV static.

Emily St. James, “I Saw the TV Glow’s Ending Is Full of Hope, If You Want It to Be,” Vulture. June 4, 2024.

#i saw the tv glow #jane schoenbrun #isttvg #isttvg spoilers #i saw the tv glow spoilers #reading #emily st james

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starsworldd · 7 months

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐮𝐬-𝐒𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐢𝐨 𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬

PLEASE READ:

long post - thank you for 2k! i apologize for the wait but this took me a longggg time to prepare.

it’s also important to note that planets in taurus/scorpio will effect how you resonate with the interpretations below

reminder that readings are open! i’m now selling persona chart readings of planets/angles as well

take with a grain of salt

1st (scorpio) - 7th (taurus)❤️: relationships are a source of comfort and wisdom. scorpio risings’ experience of reality has to do with trust, hard truths, and taking back your power but their relations with others often bring a sense of peace and value into their lives. people may perceive you to be useful and smart in these similar qualities as well. your partnerships help to balance out the chaos and even insecurity you face at times with your identity and precense in the world

2nd (scorpio) - 8th (taurus) ❤️‍🔥: you are powerful in your resources/skills and in the way you support yourself overall. in this lifetime, how you find worth and appreciation for yourself and what you have (skills, physical resources, etc…). you may feel suppressed or face much controversy for what you value or for how you choose to support yourself monetary-wise or as a person. your biggest comeback story in life may have to do with self-esteem and with how you accumulate worth and value (physical or moral/mental) into your life and goals.

although there may be much turbulence and important realizations/truths that are found in how you support yourself and your goals, the transformations and scary things you face in life ironically enough can bring you lots of support if you choose to make good use out of it (which taurus is naturally good at). of course, this is the house of fears and traumas so a big part of your life story may include building your own sense of independence by learning from times of distress.

3rd (scorpio) - 9th (taurus) 💋: you could be especially sensitive to input from others and be able to pick up undertones and double meanings from others easily. communication, creativity (especially having to do with hands or written words), is your superpower. you grab others’ attention easily with your stories and artistic output when you learn to harness your fears/limitations effectively. this also makes you very intelligent of your community + gossip because scorpio rules over extremes as well

while in your everyday communication and daily life you may uncover and discuss skeleton’s in other people’s closet and may be doing a lot of activities that use a lot of your energy (scorpio is ruled by mars, planet of action), this makes you very comfortable (taurus) in being able to adapt to different environments and perspectives (9th house). having taurus in this house can make someone very wise because they find value and meaning in variety.

4th (scorpio) - 10th (taurus) 💄: people with scorpio in this house have usually had some sort of significant event or trauma regarding their family or childhood or may have regrets as to their actions in the past. these people could be born out of either extreme poverty or wealth too. these people’s sense of safety/privacy can be very important to them or they could feel like this aspect of their life is being compromised often (mars = conflict) but you could also find safety/comfort in curiousity or things that are “off-limits”.

if the private/emotional life of the native is exacerbated and transformative for them the career and reputation for the native is where they feel appreciated and most creative. having these signs in this house-axis can be indicative of a strong comeback story (extreme poverty to extreme wealth or even the other way around). the career-field can be very fulfilling (emotionally or monetary wise) and where you are grateful or feel lucky for the events your work presents.

5th (scorpio) - 11th (taurus) 🌹: feelings of creativity, romance, and happiness are taken to extreme lows and highs throughout life. if you’re a cancer rising, i believe this is where the “moody” reputation for us comes from. like leo rising, there could have been significant changes or revelations during childhood that changed your way of deriving happiness and familial support. these people may crave for luxury and overindulgence and can do so by turning their pain into power. scorpio in this house can make someone very grateful as well.

if our sense of happiness and luck undergoes significant change and gives us our “comebacks” throughout life, the 11th house is where we have already found peace and prosperity with our place in society. we encounter valuable experiences when polishing our individualism (5th) within our community (11th). we can find personal contentment and growth in accepting our individual, unique role amongst the people around us. you may like to surround yourself with confident people as well.

6th (scorpio) - 12th (taurus) 👠: these people can feel very unlucky or trapped throughout life, with the 6h ruling bad luck + burdens and scorpio relating to extremes. scorpio is a smart zodiac i’ve noticed as well, so these people usually have a certain way (especially that requires much energy) of doing their work and job that could defy others’ expectations. extreme focus on a certain obstacle or insecurities is also possible and can take awhile to finally figure out what makes you feel secure and satisfied with how you manage your burdens.

if your everyday burdens and responsibilities test your strength to the max in this lifetime, your imagination, creativity and solitude is where you find peace. it could also be that these people do unusual things to satisfy their need for pleasure and wholeness, because the 12th house is where we are easily misled. these people are internally comfortable with their thoughts and ideas, regardless of how odd they may be because it takes them to a place of stability from their scorpio 6h.

7th (scorpio) - 1st (taurus) 🍒: these natives’ partnerships/commitments make the native have to look more deeply into their underlying intentions or feelings with said partnerships/commitment. this can bring a lot of disturbing but also very eye-opening and insightful experiences that affects the native’s identity and ambitions going forth. scorpio can also be a curious sign so there can be a little bit of investigative or persistent approach to your partnerships and this is where your power can derive from.

it may seem like your partnerships “destroy” parts of your identity, because you approach the world from a sense of wholeness and peace. at least, these are circumstances that you are ambitious to achieve in your life. pleasure and steadiness are big life themes and at first it may seem like life is rather dull or boring, but similar to scorpio in its opposite function, taurus asks us to dig a little deeper into the simpler things in life and to find enjoyment.

8th (scorpio) - 2nd (taurus) 🍫: when dealing with other people’s problems (financially, intimate connection, debts, etc…) it brings about experiences that require you to fix what’s wrong or holding you back in life in rather uncomfortable ways. this can indicate someone who is afraid to acknowledge psychological blockages or who lacks the necessary bravery/instincts to attack underlying problems. you could earn valuable assets (tangible or not) from others when you engage with activities that are “gross” but healing/heroic.

this native survives on feeling complete. having a sense of wholeness is very important to these people and makes these people very resourceful because they are able to make the seemingly mundane valuable and able to work in their favor. these people are good at feeling in control of their life, future, and choices because they are committed and secure in their abilities. these people place much importance on authenticity, diversity, and self-sufficiency.

9th (scorpio) - 3rd (taurus) ❤️: when achieving mastery/global knowledge, and self-discovery it may have to do with bringing up topics that you ignored or swept under the rug especially having to do with your identity/precense (in context of the world and society). your global approach and experiences have to do with dealing uncomfortable topics in order to achieve better awareness and understanding of all aspects of the world. how you navigate foreign environments and your sense of flexibility is your strength.

if foreign experiences provide you with strength through perseverance, your intuition and familiar environments provide you with strength through growth (tangible or not). although it may seem like the everyday social rituals and ideas (including intuition), can appear mundane, this setup of houses gives an opportunity to grow a garden that provides roots, beauty, and good taste in the way you perceive and express yourself local environments.

10th (scorpio) - 4th (taurus) 🪭: these people have to have a ton of intiative when working in their career and towards their big goals in life. it may feel as though these people have to start from a bad hand of cards (compared to everybody else) in order to make it to the top or that their working conditions and/or responsibilities throughout life may feel difficult to complete or deals with high stakes/status. but even though there are difficult tasks they have to be done and you have drive/resourcefulness to do it!!

if the workplace is where you see the thorns in your garden (where you have to get rid of them) your home life and condition is where you see the roses. taurus is good at being able to attract good circumstances for themselves because taurus is very representative of wholeness and the feeling of completion. there’s probably more opportunities for you to setup and manage your domestic life the way you like. wisdom may be found through your domestic life too.

11th (scorpio) - 5th (taurus) 🧨: your surrounding communities/people who support you seem to try to pick you apart. you may feel as if the people who you’re around with don’t actually support you or that there’s something incomplete or “wrong” with the circumstances and people that made you successful, imposter syndrome possibly? your supporters/friends could show you things you couldn’t see before, likely for the better although they may reveal this in dramatic or difficult circumstances.

if you feel incomplete about the people/circumstances that support your public achievements, your creativity and lust for life is where you find contentment. these people feel most stable and appreciated for their talents and way of enjoying themselves. for these people, they find stability, growth, and satisfaction when they engage with activities that bring them happiness. they find beauty and appreciation from others for their self-expression/creatvity.

12th (scorpio) - 6th (taurus) ♠️: your drive to feel complete is what can you mislead you in life. this may be because you feel as if there’s always something missing or not being to shown to you but you are persistent in finding what that something is. this same energy can make the native very wise because they have to overcome their demons over and over again throughout life. but at the same time, you could also feel like your sense of resourcefulness and strength fails to manifest in reality.

if there’s conflict/determination in trying to protect yourself from things that induce bad energy, then there’s likely to be tranquility and acceptance in doing activities that can put your life back on track. the 6h is known as the house of bad fortune in astrology so these people are good at being able to find the most reliable way out of a difficult situation. and while these natives could be good at finding solutions, slacking off and overindulgence can lead to oversight with tasks.

once again thank you for 2k!

hope you enjoyed🥰

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myfandomrealitea · 2 months

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With my recent Harry Potter posts gaining traction, I just want to make an important note:

You are not a bad person for having enjoyed Harry Potter. You are not a bad person for finding it hard to let go of something so ingrained into your life. You are not a bad person for enjoying the overall story of Harry Potter despite the bigotry JK Rowling managed to smatter into it.

Nobody should be telling you that you are. Your past relationship with Harry Potter is not the issue.

The issue is what you and we all do moving forward with the new information and facts that we know.

And the facts are that JK Rowling is a rampant and proud bigot who is hellbent on using the fortune Harry Potter made her to actively pursue the entire trans community with hostile intent.

And she does not care. She is happy that she is doing it. She is happy that people oppose her because it gives her an excuse to play victim and paint trans people who oppose her as violent, aggressive and evil.

This is not about how you engaged with Harry Potter in the past. Or even how you engage with it privately. This is about whether or not you choose to contribute toward her mission and towards the persecution of trans people right now.

Because when you buy that licensed merch in the store, she gets part of the profit. When you go to Harry Potter World, she gets part of the profit. When you buy the Harry Potter game, she gets part of the profit.

And all of those things result in three consequences:

It shows the marketing departments that Harry Potter is still a cashcow.

It shows JK Rowling that she can say and do whatever the hell she wants and nothing is going to stop that money rolling in.

She is given a steady cashflow which she uses to bankroll anti-trans movements and spokespeople and government petitions.

That is the reality of your choice from here on out. That is why people are asking you to set aside what you once had with Harry Potter and to stand with the people she has made it her life's mission to destroy.

You don't even have to let go of it completely. Just let go of the interactions that directly fund JK Rowling. Just cut off the cashflow she's using to ruin the lives of people she's never even met.

Buy fanmade merchandise or learn how to make your own. If you're cosplaying? Buy unofficial cosplays or buy second-hand off resale websites. Same with other merchandise.

If you want to watch Harry Potter, there are hundreds of non-licensed steaming websites showing it which do not contribute royalty income to JK Rowling.

If you're writing Harry Potter fanfiction, use a site like AO3 which will defend you tooth and claw if she gets desperate and starts coming after fan creators.

Harry Potter might be the comforting memories of your childhood, but JK Rowling is an active threat to the literal livelihood of trans people. People who could lose legal rights and protections simply because of one vicious woman with a bigoted agenda and deep pockets.

All we're asking is that you compare your reasons for enjoying Harry Potter with the facts of why you should make a few simple, easy choices to avoid bankrolling her and determine which is more important.

Or rather, which one should be more important.

And make the right choice.

#myfandomrealitea #sephiroth speaks #reality #proship #proshipping #harry potter #anti harry potter #jk rowling #anti jk rowling #trans rights #queer rights #lgbt

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carolmunson · 5 months

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i'm the best thing at this party | e.m.

up and coming rockstar!eddie munson x girlfriend!reader (is that a picture of slash? sure, but we can pretend it isn't.) aka the first time carol ever wrote a fic based off a taylor song. but in my defense, it was a chase petra cover of 'you're losing me' that inspired it. this is not connected to my rockstar!eddie x actress!reader storyline, this is it's own oneshot in a separate story.

in the early 90s, when your boyfriend's band starts to make it in the big leagues, you start to come to terms with the fact that he might not want or need a small town player anymore. eighteen plus. established relationship. angst. hurt/no comfort-ish. open ending.

"and i'm fading, thinkin': 'do something, babe. say somethin'. lose somethin' babe, risk something. choose somethin' babe. i got nothin' to believe, unless you're choosing me.'"

The Hideout was hot with all the bodies packed in like sardines; stark contrast to the icy chill of winter outside. Glowing on the screen was The Tonight Show, everyone’s eyes glued to it while Corroded Coffin made their first national televised debut.

No one’s totally sure how their manager Richie was able to finesse this slot – but they went to New York to film earlier in the week and didn’t ask any questions. With Richie, it's better to not ask questions and just let it happen. Eddie came home with an adrenaline rush so intense that he barely slept for three days. No matter how much you tried to keep him in bed and tire him out.

And sure, it was hard to have him be gone while you drove out to Indy and took a friend to see the new graffiti art exhibit that came in from LA when it was supposed to be with him. It was hard to have him miss a lot of things. His return from the city only started another big talk about it, one you've been having every few months the last two years. Even so, you couldn’t help but be proud of him, proud of all of them. Remembering that just four years ago they were barely getting fifteen people in here to see them play when you first started dating.

The crowd erupts when the camera comes off of the band on the stage and back to Leno at his desk, the boys in real life all standing on the bar. You look up at Ed and smile, he finally did it, he’s doing it. The contracts are signed, the people saw him, he’s gonna make it. He’s making it.

You duck out of the way when they start to spray champagne over everyone by the bar, “Not my hair, babe!”

The two bartenders pour shots of Jameson and flutes of Prosecco while the show cuts to commercial and it’s not long before you feel the sticky chest of your boyfriend up against your shoulder, “It was good? I did good?”

“Ed you’re…you’re fuckin’ famous,” you grin, “You’re fuckin’ famous!”

You follow while he leads you through the crowd, settled in near the back where the stage doors lead to the dressing room and out into the parking lot. He looks over his shoulder twice before he sneaks you both behind the amps; heart pounding when he leans you up against the painted cinder block walls, noses mashing when he takes your lips in his. It’s feverish, desperate when he pulls at your hips, one arm wrapped around your mid back to keep you steady up against him.

“Lemme – mmm – lemme take you to the green room,” he breathes between kisses, moving your hand toward the bulge in his jeans, “C’mon I wan–”

“The interview’s up!” Jeff calls from on top of the bar.

“Where’s Ed? ED? Come on! The interview’s up!” Gareth calls, the crowd erupting in a cheer of ‘Edd-ie, Edd-ie, Edd-ie!’

“Come on, come on!” you squeal, pulling away to pull him toward the front of the bar again, “You said they were gonna cut it!”

“It’s stupid, babe,” he assures, “It’s so dumb.”

“Ed, you’re being interviewed by Leno, this isn’t stupid,” you urge, “This is like – this is it.”

“It’s literally like two minutes, it’s not special,” he doesn’t move when you pull him along with you, a frown pulling on your lips.

“Eddie,” your voice raises an octave, tugging on his hand – he lets go.

“I’m gonna take a leak,” he shrugs, heading toward the green room while you watch him disappear behind the door. Your brows furrow slightly, but it doesn’t stop you from making your way back to the edge of the bar where everyone’s eyes are glued to the medium sized screen in the corner.

The crowd cheers again while the band is re-introduced, Eddie and Jeff sitting on the chairs with Gareth and Grant standing behind them. You admire the way your boyfriend looks post performance, nearly glittering with sweat but glowing with pride – with accomplishment. You look over your shoulder to see if he’s back from the bathroom yet, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

“So we got a group of some – what looks like – nice, respectable hard core guys,” Jay smiles.

“I don’t know about respectable,” Eddie scrunches his nose back at the host.

“I don’t know about nice, either,” Jeff jokes. You marvel at how relaxed and natural they all look on camera, cracking wise and getting laughs from the audience. They talk about the album briefly, and the front cover which has all four boys in caskets with a red kiss print on their cheeks.

“So, the debut is self titled, Corroded Coffin – but it looks like you all got a coffin kiss here,” he points out, “These from anyone special? You got the girls going crazy.” The audience erupts in cheers and screams, a bra finding its way flung into the sound stage. You giggle when Gareth and Grant hold it up, making them both blush pink on the screen.

“Well I got a girl at home, so, I don’t hear any screamin’ if it’s not her cheering for me,” Jeff’s smile is bright when the camera focuses on him and he winks into the lens. Sasha, Jeff’s girlfriend, screeches in the crowd of The Hideout.

“You didn’t tell me you were gonna do that!” she beams, and your heart thunders while you watch them kiss on the bar. The promise ring that he gave her back in ‘88 shines on her ring finger, awaiting something much more flashy when that first big rockstar payday hits.

“It’s definitely a change of pace,” Grant nods on the screen, “Definitely wasn’t getting a lot of girls in high school.”

“It’s wild,” Gare laughs.

“And what about you, Munson,” Jay asks, “Frontman like you’s gotta be beating them off with a stick.”

The camera focuses on him, his pink lips and smart grin, a flash of teeth before he starts talking. He’s so handsome, you feel your fingers and toes start to tingle when he opens his mouth.You weren’t expecting to hear your name on national television, or be alluded to. You’d never really prepared yourself for something like this. To be declared to thousands, maybe millions, as a rockstar girlfriend.

You swallow the nervous spit pooling in your mouth, heart pattering while you run through all of the scenarios of the outcome of being ‘announced’ in your head.

“I don’t kiss and tell, Jay,” he smirks.

Oh.

Your hearing clouds and your vision blurs – unsure of what you just heard. If maybe you imagined it, but that proves to be untrue when you feel a few sets of eyes on you. A moment of silent confusion lulls on the crowd at the bar.

You swallow the lump in your throat, fingers and toes cold now while the blood rushes to your heart and head, to your lungs which suddenly forgot how to work. Through teary eyes you look around, drowned out by the cheers of the bar when Jay announces when the album will release. You sniffle, trying to hold it back – but there he is in the back of the crowd now, eyes rounded; pleading, looking straight at you.

The tears spill over and you try to catch your breath as you make your way through the bodies on your way to the front door. You hear Gareth call after you, hearing him stumble over the barstools while he hops off the counter. Another ragged intake of breath shakes through you while you get closer to the sticker covered door, pushing through the first set and then the other into the dark blue night. Your breath puffs white in front of you, coat abandoned somewhere back inside The Hideout while you walk across the street to your car.

You fumble with the keys, blubbering while you get the engine started and the radio blares Al Green’s Let’s Stay Together part way through the song. In the rear view you see him hustle out of the bar to search for you, catching the start of your car and getting to the passenger window before you can pull away.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he strains, his fingers hanging on the edge of the half open glass, “I promise it’s not what you think. Richie asked me to answer like that, it wasn’t on purpose.”

You press slightly on the gas, making the car lurch forward and inch.

“Wait! Please don’t – don’t just go,” he begs, voice breaking with desperation, “We can talk about it.”

You look at him through wet eyes, the street lights haloing behind his head to feign his innocence. He can talk himself out of anything.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you rasp out quietly, “We’ve done enough talking.”

“I can…please don’t go,” he says again, “Not with you crying like this, c’mon. Don’t leave.”

“I’m gonna go home, Ed,” you sniffle, “J-just go h-have fun inside. S’too cold to be out here.”

“You don’t have your coat,” he states, “Come back in and get it. We can talk in the back, please.”

“I don’t need my coat,” you garble out, “I’m going h-home.”

“Well I’ll – I’ll bring it to you tomorrow morning,” he nods needily, “Okay? Is that okay?”

You let out a shaky breath, fogging again against your windshield, “F-fine.”

Eddie cracks a weak but winning smile, “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“I love you,” he adds. It tastes like ash in your mouth. You pull away before you feel compelled to say it back.

Eddie show’s up in the morning with coffee and your coat, a small carton of donut holes for you both to share. He’s all smiles, seeing you in the kitchenette cleaning out the coffee pot that you now no longer have to fill.

“Morning, baby,” he grins, “I brought your coat.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, keeping your eyes on the droplets of water that race down the side of the glass pout, “You can just hang it on the hook.”

“Are you…are you still upset with me?” his voice is airy, surprised while he makes his way behind you. Calloused hands reach around to pull your back in his chest, nose nuzzling against your cheek. Your stomach rolls, bile inching up the base of your throat.

“Enough, Ed,” you sigh, pulling out of his hold.

“Sweetheart, c’mon,” he huffs, “I told you already. I didn’t want to say that. But you know how Richie is! He just wants what’s best for the band and so do I! Don’t you? I thought you’d understand.”

“Jeff had no problem talking about Sasha,” you do your best to measure your tone, too early to start yelling.

“Jeff has the wholesome thing going for him; plus – you know his family isn’t for him being considered like, a rogue or whatever. He’s already in a metal band,” Eddie explains, like this is a totally normal conversation, “Richie even said this morning that he was getting a lot of calls.” “Okay,” you nod, sitting down at the small table in your kitchen where your coffee sits.

“And like, a lot of people wanna do interviews with us and get hype up for the release,” he half smiles, sitting down across from you, “I told you, it was…it was a good thing. They were saying y’know like, mysterious bad boy front man is a good angle.”

“Great.”

“It doesn’t…babe, it doesn’t mean we can’t be together,” he leans forward, hand reaching out to touch yours. His shoulders sulk when you put them both under the table.

“Ed I –” you let out a breath, eyes tracing a pattern on the waxed canvas tablecloth, “I can’t even look at you right now. And you wanna tell me we can still be together?”

“What like it’s…some consolation prize?” you choke out, “You made a fool out of me. The looks I got?”

“I know, I know, but it was for the band. You know how I feel abo—“

“How you feel about me?” you hold back a bitter laugh.

“Ed, the last year or so we have kept having the same conversation over and over again. You are so, so caught up in Corroded and making it and getting there and trust me I am so proud of you. If there is anyone on the planet who is more proud than me maybe it’s Wayne, but – this is just like, this is kind of it. We have nowhere to go from here.”

He’s quiet for a moment, his brown eyes rounding and brows tilting slightly when he realizes what you’re really saying, “What do you mean no where to go? Are you not listening? I said we can still be together, just like befo–”

“Before? Before when?” you get up and pace back to the kitchen where he can still see you, “Before when you would cancel dates to go practice? When you missed my awards night for work because you wanted to fill in guitar for a gig in Ohio? When you didn’t come to my poetry reading with the guys like you said you would and instead got plastered at The Hideout after rehearsal?”

“Well I apologized for all that, that was all in the past couple years and I – look, I said I was sorry and you accepted that,” his voice raises slightly, he stands up to full height with defense evident in his stance, “You can’t just throw it back in my face.”

“When you were gone weeks at a time for mini tours, for opening for bands on the East Coast – god, all the work I took off to make sure I was there for you? When you canceled our three year anniversary dinner, without my knowledge, because you got a call for discounted studio time on the same night,” you manage to get out, the tears inching toward the edge of your lash line, “And I sat there at the table in my new dress and everyone looked at me the same way they looked at me last night. Poor girl. Must’ve got stood up. What an idiot.”

“Yeah well that studio time is why we were on fuckin’ LENO, babe!” he pleads, “Don’t you get that? It’s for us!”

“It’s for you!” you break, the shrill frustration coming out with your voice, “It’s always just been for you. It’s always about Eddie and the guys. I have done nothing but make sacrifice after sacrifice, excuse after excuse to play the part of perfect, understanding, cool, laidback girlfriend but like fuck Ed, when is it gonna be about me, huh?” He stands there, unsure, cheeks sucking in between his teeth.

“And what’s on the docket for you on Friday? Have any plans?” you ask, your voice softening while you cross your arms over your chest. You lean the small of your back against the counter while you watch him. He clears his throat, hands finding their way into the back pockets of his jeans.

“Um, we have some meetings in the morning in Indy. And then um, we’re gonna take a late flight out to LA. The label’s excited – they’re really excited,” he breathes out, eyes finding the floor and your sock covered feet.

“Oh, that’s interesting,” you nod, voice still measured, “Since we’ve had the tickets for my niece’s winter school concert on the fridge for over a month. I guess I’ll have to tell her that her favorite bonus teacher couldn’t make it.”

“Fuck,” Eddie’s eyes shut, pulling his lips in to run his tongue across them while he thinks of what to say next. Your heart thrums in your chest, throat getting tighter and tighter while you hold back a cry – this was just another thing to add to the list.

“I can make it up to her, I promise,” his raspy nicotine voice becoming garbled with desperation, “I can make this all up to you, too. I swear. I wish you had just told me about all of this.”

“I have, Ed. We are always having the same conversation. I’m tired of having it. I’m so tired of this. Make it up to me? How do you make up for it?”

“I…” he chokes on his words, ringed fingers running over his face and reaching to pull his hair back off his neck.

“Go ahead,” you encourage angrily, “What’re you gonna do? Say something. Fucking, do something, Ed!”

“Baby, I don’t know what to…” he swallows, tears pooling in shiny wells over his eyes, “What do you want me to do? I’ll do it. I’ll do anything.”

You take a breath through your nose and let it out through your mouth, taking the three steps it takes to get to him. Your hands fall from being crossed, reaching up to cup each of his cheeks. Your thumbs run over the apples and drag softly over the stubble left over from the night before.

His eyes shut while he keens into your touch, his rough hands covering yours. Calloused fingertips coasting delicately over your knuckles. You know what you have to do, even if his touch makes you want to do the opposite.

“Go be famous,” you shrug, smiling weakly, “Go be the big rockstar I know you are. Like how you wanted. Go play The Garden and live in LA.”

Your hands slide down his face, tears falling after them, “Go do all that, and just, um – just leave me alone. Please.”

“But I don’t–” he starts, pulling in a sharp breath while a cry leaks out of him, “I don’t wanna lose you.”

“Oh, Ed,” you shake your head while the ache spills over into your own leveled sob, “I’m already lost.”

“No, please,” he begs, trying to catch your hands as they make it back to your sides, “Please, baby, I’ll fix it. I pro-promise.”

“There’s nothing left to fix,” you whisper in finality, “You should go.”

“I don’t want to,” Eddie’s soft pink lips quiver while he speaks, “Please. Please. I can fix it, the next interview, anything, it’ll be all you. I swear I can…I can…”

When your face doesn’t change he knows there’s no way to pull you from your stance, voice trailing off in defeat. You watch as he rips open your storm door and goes to his van, his chest and back shaking with sobs that make the hardware on his jacket cry with him.

A year passes and you are not surprised when you find out that Corroded Coffin has made the cover of Rolling Stone. Wayne bought every copy from the gas station at the end of the road and put them in every mailbox early that morning. You don’t think there’s been a day in the last year that Wayne wasn’t seen beaming ear to ear; his boy finally getting everything he wanted.

Life had gotten easier now that you weren’t regularly expecting disappointment. You went on few dates here and there, just trying to navigate your life after spending four years sharing it with someone else. Some nights were colder than others, but it was better than the frigidness you felt that night at the bar.

You did your best to avoid the tabloids – Eddie was certainly doing just fine navigating his life as a bachelor; some new model or actress on his arm every other month it seemed. Hardrock’s Resident Playboy. It stung the first time you saw it, and a little less each time after – heart breaker to the core; you would know, you were the blueprint.

In the same cold that matched the night at The Hideout a year prior; you sat on your steps wrapped in a robe – morning cigarette between your fingers.

“Morning,” Wayne’s voice is gravelly when it sounds over you, still soaked with left over sleep.

“Mornin’ Wayne,” you smile, taking a sip of the steaming cup of coffee in your other hand.

“Wanted to uh, to let you know that the guys are playin’ a show in the city tonight. I could uh – I could get you a ticket if y–”

“That’s sweet of you Wayne,” you smile tightly, “But I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“He might like to see you,” he shrugs. He hadn’t quite gotten over the break up the way you and Eddie had, convinced that this was the real deal – that he was watching young love flourish into something bigger.

“He’s seeing someone, Wayne,” you take a drag of your cigarette, “Why would he want to see his ex-girlfriend who still lives in Hawkins? He’s got some actress girl now, right?”

Wayne shrugs again, scratching at the back of his neck, “I never know what that boy’s got goin’ on in California outside of shows and gettin’ into trouble. Maybe he is seeing some girl but, y’know, seein’ an old friend could be good for him.”

“He’s still got plenty of friends here he can see,” you let the smoke out to drift off in the gentle wind rustling through the line of trailers and mobile homes, “I don’t think I need to be one of them.”

“Well, they’re gonna have a small after party at The Hideout tomorrow,” he offers, “Even if you just wanna do somethin’ fun. I never see you goin’ out anymore.”

You laugh, “You work at night, what do you mean you don’t see me goin’ out anymore? I go out plenty.”

His eyes linger on you, enough to encourage a thoughtful sigh – you might as well humor him.

“I’ll think about it, okay?” you toss your half finished cigarette onto the browned grass before looking back up at him.

“Okay,” he smiles, eyes sparkling as he makes his way back inside.

You spend the next day deliberating between making it to the bar or not, putting in the effort to get ready and showing up. Why bother? Just to sit awkwardly in the corner while everyone flocks to the boys and tells them how great they are? They already know they’re great, they’re crawling higher and higher up the ladder.

You haven’t even talked to Eddie since the morning he left your trailer, and Wayne knows that. He knows how bad you hurt his nephew because he came over to talk to you a week after Eddie went to California and stayed for good. ‘So why should I show my face there? So I can relive the moment he made a fool of me over again?’ You think while the hot water of the shower glides over your shoulders and down your chest.

‘Maybe it’ll be good to make amends or something, I at least owe it to the guys,’ you figure silently while you slather on some moisturizer at the bathroom sink. And you did – not seeing Eddie meant not seeing the rest of the band. Gareth, Jeff, and Grant were your friends too, and you sort of broke up with them in the same instance. Sasha moved out to California with them soon after – it would be nice to catch up at least. You hadn’t seen her since that night.

‘But why would I want to bother? So I can see that engagement ring on her finger and hear her talk about her wedding plans?’ you swallow sourly while you use a touch of your lipstick as blush on the apples of your cheeks. ‘Remember all the times you thought you and Ed were gonna get married? Hilarious.’

Before you know it, it’s 11:30 and you’re standing outside of the sticky and stickered covered door of The Hideout. Even from where you’re standing the bar is a buzz like a hive, energy inside like a livewire when you get into the entryway, showing your ID to the bouncer at the inside door.

‘Small after party my ass, Wayne,’ you think to yourself when you get in, shrugging off your coat. There was barely room to move and most of the lights were off or dimmed aside from the small stage in the back. By the looks of it, they must’ve played a small set – an intimate ‘home base’ concert for the real hometown fans. You push through some of the crowd, acrid smoke haze hovering over the room. A single bar stool sits empty at the end of the counter close to the wall and before you can think about it, you beeline straight there before someone else can grab it. Not that anyone would be able to see it through the six couples making out to Slayer blasting through the speakers.

The bar tender notices you soon after, coming over to get your order while his two cohorts speedily pour shots and mix drinks. You almost don’t want to get anything just to make the night easier, but opt for a beer instead.

“How much?” you ask over the music.

“WHAT?” the bartender shouts, holding a hand to his ear.

“HOW MUCH?” you yell back.

“ON THE HOUSE. BAND IS COVERING DRINKS,” he shouts back. You take a few dollars out while he pours your beer anyway, sliding it across the bar with a smile. He smiles back, pocketing the ones with a wink before helping another person leaning over the bar.

The TV takes your attention, a tape of their recent interviews and music videos playing on a loop with no sound. The beer is almost comforting as it passes over your tongue, it’s been some time since you just sat in a busy bar – and for the most part, no one here even knows you. For the most part.

A call of your name snaps you back to reality, looking around to see exactly who you thought you would. Sasha. And low and behold a ring sparkles bright on her finger, a breathtakingly big diamond glittering in the neon lights behind the bar.

“Hey!” you call back with a smile, sick crawling up your throat. You watch as she fights the crowd to get over to you, wrapping you in a tight hug while you stay seated on the stool.

“How have you been? You look gorgeous,” Sasha’s tan skin glows back orange in green while the lights change, tight dark curls bouncing prettily around her face.

“I’ve been good!” you nod, your voice hardly sounds like your own, “Y’know just – hanging around Hawkins. How’s LA? How’ that ring?!”

She holds her hand out so you can really see it, her skin is warm in yours while you take her fingers. It’s more beautiful up close, the marquise diamond flanked by two smaller triangles in perfect harmony.

“He did so good, Sash,” you giggle.

“I slapped his arm so hard when I saw it,” she laughs, “I said, ‘Jeff we could’ve bought a freakin’ house!’ but you know how he is.”

“I do, I do,” you nod, “Did you set a date?”

“Probably not for another year or so if we do a big wedding,” she shrugs, “Maybe a little longer? We think it’s smart to actually buy a house first – with this kind of money coming in. And y’know, the industry is, uh, well, it can be wishy washy. What’s in today could be out tomorrow. We wanna be smart.”

“Well thank god he’s marrying someone like you then,” you tease.

“That’s true,” she beams, “Do the guys know you’re here? I can go grab J–”

“No, no, they don’t,” you interrupt, taking her arm gently while she turns to leave, “You don’t have to tell them I’m here. I’ll go find them, I promise.”

Sasha gives you a half hearted smile, “Okay. Well – We’re sitting over by the stage if you wanna come say hi to the guys. Gareth would lose his mind, and Grant brought his new girl with him, she’s so cool. They met in LA and she’s like, got the sickest punky-goth type of thing about her.”

“I love that he’s in love,” you gush.

“Me too,” she nods, “The girls are obsessed with him out there.”

There’s a silence, but it’s knowing – still one person yet to have been mentioned but you both seem to understand it’s not worth bringing it up. Sasha reminds you that they’re by the stage, giving her a wave while she disappears in the throngs of people in the crowd.

Half way through your second beer and a couple of random conversations with people later, you see him in glimpses while people pass by. You can tell by the smirk on his face that he’s flirting, and when more people move and re-disperse, settling, you see glimpses of her, too. Some cute young looking thing, you wouldn’t be surprised if it was her twenty-first birthday. All doe eyed and giggly while he leans over her against the wall near the booths. I guess whoever he’s seeing in California isn’t too important.

He looks good, healthy, you can tell his clothes are tailored now – sort of comical that a tailor would fit and adjust ripped jeans and an old leather jacket. Not that he has to know you think it’s funny.

Eddie leans forward and lets his finger tap her on the nose, a tell-tale sign of his that they’ll kiss later. He’s used that move on you more times than you can count. He did it the night you met, tipsy at a party at Gareth’s – tapped you on the nose, making you scrunch it.

‘Aw, if I knew you’d make a face like that I would’ve booped you way earlier.’

‘What do you mean? What face?’ You scrunch again.

‘That face,’ he bites his lower lip, blush on his cheeks, ‘It’s a cute face.’

You expected it to hurt more, to watch him active in his element; but it doesn’t. You know the motions, you know his tells, he next move. You can see it in the way he leans into her and then leans away – almost kissing her, but leaving her wanting more. You smirk into your next sip, counting down the moments until he puts their conversation on pause to do their rounds and finding her again later. Gotta keep her yearning, you guess. He certainly was always good at things like that.

You don’t see their reunion, you assume it was somewhere near the stage where the band and Sasha were. At the end of the night, the boys play a goodnight mini-set, just three songs. You’d never seen Ed so in his zone in your life, fully basking in the glow of upcoming stardom. Every chord and every lyric punching out of him like the sweat pouring from his hairline and chest. This was what you wanted, what you told him to do.

Go be famous. And here he was. Famous. Just like you said he would be.

Water takes the place of your beer while they play; and you know better than to get up and join the crowd. Much happier sitting at the end of the now more empty bar just listening instead of getting potentially punched or tussled with amongst the bodies.

People take their time leaving when the set is over, shrugging on their coats to brave the cold weather.

‘Thanks for comin’ out to celebrate with us – now get the fuck out so our buddies at the bar can go home before four!’

You savor the conversations and music settling down to a much quieter murmur while you sketch on a napkin. A few people you shared niceties with tap your shoulder to say goodbye, new friends you’ll never see again. On the other end of the bar you hear Grant and his girl order a round of shots. Your head almost pops up at the sound of his voice, but that might bring attention to you that you don’t think you really want. Now that the night is over, you’re glad you came. If anything, just to see that they were making it just fine – and they would have with or without you.

With less people in the bar you can hear Sasha’s laugh in the back where the stage is, and you laugh into your napkin turned sketchpad. Her laugh was always infectious, enough to make the crowd follow suit. You grab a fresh napkin from the pile next to you and start to doodle again while you figure out how to best leave without anyone catching wise that you’re here. Out of the last twenty people left at the bar, a little more than half knew who you were.

The tap of the pen on the bar top while you think blends in with the tinkling of hardware that gets a little louder the closer it gets to you. A squish of leather and drag of a barstool later makes you privy that someone’s next to you. Spiced cologne and sweat sheened skin.

“You come here often?”

Slowly, you turn your head – level with brown eyes you haven’t looked in for a year, just in the glossy pages of magazines you’d leave behind at the grocery store or Melvald’s.

“I used to,” you offer a quiet tired smile, leaning your chin on your hand on the bar, “It’s been a while.”

Eddie smiles back, soft, cautious, “Yeah, same for me.”

You both don’t speak for a moment, adjusting yourselves on the barstools while a few more people head out to leave. The jingle of the door fades out, crunches of the parting patrons’ sneakers and boots in the snow sound outside.

He clears his throat, bringing your attention back to him – the curls of his hair, the slight stubble on his jaw and cheeks. His bottom lip tucks between his teeth for a moment before he turns his chest toward you.

“Can I uh, can I get you a drink?”

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midnightorchids · 2 months

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I am kinda curious

What would Jason be like if the coffee Cafe owner!reader built in a small library in her Cafe just for him,like she saw he liked reading and went like 'yup. I am building a small library for him'

This is such a fun idea, but omg please forgive me, I went a little overboard. Once I figured out what to write, I couldn’t stop. I apologize for how long it is. Also, this is completely gender neutral, so anyone can read!

But omg also, I was literally kicking my feet and giggling writing the end lol, Anyways enjoy!

Owning a cafe was a difficult job, there was always much to do— customers to attend to, drinks to make, and maintenance to do. You were always busy, but you loved your job.

You had spent a lot of time curating the perfect atmosphere for your beloved customers. The lighting was warm, with fairy lights and lanterns dangling from the ceiling. There was wooden furniture and two old couches that sat by the glass windows. The tiny space smelled of freshly brewed coffee and sweet bread. The cafe was always inviting.

You had many regulars at the coffee shop, each one with their own story, a different purpose.

For the past six months, twice a week, every Thursday and Saturday morning, a tall man walked in. Jason, you recalled his name from the many times you prepared his drinks. He’d order the same thing every time, a small London fog and a walnut banana bread.

He’d sit at the table nearest to the entrance, his back never towards the door.

Every morning, he’d come in with a new book. You had seen him read Franz Kafka, Oscar Wilde and Jane Austen; he’d read a lot of Austen.

He was a mystery and you wanted to know more.

You found Jason quite handsome. His skin was scattered with scars and you often found yourself staring at the permanent wound near his lips. You wanted to run your fingers along it, to trace it, to kiss it.

His eyes were always kind, a deep shade of green, forest-like you’d think to yourself.

He spoke with kindness. His voice velvety and rich, much like the espresso you’d brew everyday, except his voice was never bitter, almost always doused with honey.

Sometimes you’d catch him looking over at the counter, at you, you’d hoped.

Your coworkers were afraid of him, telling you to stay away, but you couldn’t help yourself. He was like an enticing book, waiting to be read. They’d warn you, “do not engage in too much conversation with the strange man.” But it was as if they were talking to a small child, their words would go in one ear and out the other.

“Strange,” you would never use that word to describe him.

From the small talk you had with him, to his choice in books, to even his taste in tea, you’d never describe him as strange.

Gentle was the word you’d choose.

He was huge, all height and muscle, terrifying to most, however to you, he was everything but that. You saw an angel and you didn’t even know him… yet, you’d tell yourself.

There were days, where you almost gained the courage to ask for his number, maybe ask for small detail, perhaps get a glimpse of his life. But each attempt was futile. Why was it so hard to speak to him for more than five minutes, you’d curse your inability to speak to attractive men.

You were beginning to give up on your dreams of getting to know the beautiful stranger, when he walked in through door.

The conversation began as per usual.

“Morning Jason, what can I grab you today,” you asked politely. He smiled softly in return and you stare at the scar by his lip as he begins to speak.

“Uhh surprise me,” you look at him confused, he’s never done that before and he finds himself smiling harder. “Just kidding, I’ll just the take the usual please,” he says as he places his copy of Jane Eyre on the counter to take out his wallet.

“Brontë, why am I not surprised,” you reply, gazing at the book. You take the cash from his hands and your heart drops. Shades of purple and crimson coat his skin. They’re bruised, again.

“What can I say, I’m a man of taste,” he smirks. You roll your eyes and giggle.

“Now who told you that,” and he shrugs. Then there’s a lull, you don’t know what to say now. It isn’t awkward, but you find yourself starting feeling a little uneasy. God, if you only you could come up with something else to say. You shake your head slightly and begin to warm up his banana bread.

You turn around and wait for him to leave, but he doesn’t walk away to his usual table this time, instead he takes a seat next to the counter. Odd, you thought.

Jason’s gaze doesn’t leave you for a second, he watches you in admiration, you don’t quite catch on.

If you thought Jason was handsome, then he thought you belonged in a museum. You were a work of art in his eyes. The kind of beauty they wrote poetry about. Absolutely stunning.

He wanted to get to know you, speak to you, but he was afraid. If you didn’t reciprocate his feelings, then he may never be able to see you again. The trips to the cafe would no longer be necessary and he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

However today, Jason pushes his fears aside, he feels bold. He finds his confidence and he speaks.

“Do you read much,” he asks suddenly. You place his cup of tea and bread in front of him, and nod your head.

“I do, but not what you read,” you reply and he stares into your eyes, curious. “I mostly read magazines, you know Vogue and stuff,” his smile drops a little, he’s trying really hard to not look judgemental. Cute, you think. “Kidding, I read fantasy mostly,” and his face lights up again.

“So like J.K. Rowling,” he questions.

“No, Harry Potter’s good, but I’m not really a fan of her, you know as a person. I’ve been reading a lot Neil Gaiman recently though,” you say.

“Oh fuck, yeah, she’s said some pretty crazy stuff huh,” and you nod again. “Gaiman though, I don’t think I’ve ever read his stuff before, he any good,” he asks and your eyes go wide, you’re excited.

You spend the next hour of his visit speaking to him about books, about the things that you both like.

You only part from the conversation when there was a customer.

You’ve never felt this way before, all the assumptions you made about him were true. He was an angel, a kind and gentle one.

A month goes by and you notice your relationship with Jason change. Now, instead of sitting by the entrance of the cafe, he sits near you, back against the door. A sign of trust, you assumed. He smiled more, he showed his teeth and he laughed, hard. You loved the sound of his laugh. His eyes looked brighter, greener, emerald-like. He still walked in with a new book, but when the conversation began, it was long forgotten.

You watched his bruises heal and you watched new ones appear, you were always curious, but never had the courage to ask. He’d tell you when he was ready.

As time went by, you found yourself wanting to do something for him, you wanted him to know that you cared. You thought that if your words were going to fail you, then maybe your actions would prove otherwise.

Working a closing shift at the cafe on a gloomy Tuesday evening, you find yourself thinking of different gestures you could do.

Ideas came and left, nothing felt good enough. He deserved the best. Trying to busy your mind elsewhere, you begin to sweep the floors and that’s when inspiration hits you.

There, in the coffee shop, lies an empty corner. An odd spot, not necessarily small, but also not large enough either.

A perfect fit for a decently sized bookshelf. A library, for the community, but most importantly for Jason. You smile to yourself, proud at the thought. He’d love this, you knew he would.

The next morning you find yourself drilling holes into the pale walls of the cafe, trying attach the large shelf you lugged down to the shop.

Once everything was fixed into its rightful place, you begin adding the books, by genre and then by the authors’ last names. You add many of Jason’s favourites, multiple copies of Austen. You add children’s books, comics and something for yourself.

The shelf fits right into the ambiance of the cafe, elevating it honestly. The corner looked cosy and you found yourself wanting to sit by one of the couches with a book and a cup of hot chocolate.

You stare at the shelf once more, proud. Now, you just had to wait.

Jason walks into the cafe the next day, he’s late. He arrives near closing time. It’s just you and him in the cafe, most of your staff left for the day and not many people stayed this late. It’s quiet, the only sound coming from the machines on your side of the counter. He’s holding another book in his hand, but he has no intention of reading tonight.

His hair is slicked back, and there’s a small cut on his forehead. He’s dressed in a white dress shirt and black pants. He looks like he’s coming back from a big event or maybe he’s going to one later. Either way, he looks pretty like this, his arms look more defined and you can make out the muscles on his back when he walks around the room, waiting for his drink.

His eyes wander around the cafe before settling on the bookshelf nestled in the odd corner. His eyes soften, he’s never noticed that before, it must be new, he thinks.

“When’d you get this,” he asks, his fingers running along the spines of the books. He’s smiling, there’s so many books.

“Yesterday, it’s for you,” you say, holding your breath. This is it, the moment you’ve been preparing for.

“For me,” he looks over at you as you settle his tea on the counter. You begin walking over to his side, slowly, riddled with nerves.

“Yes, since you’re always here, I thought you’d like having a book shelf here. It’s like a library, you take a book and then you-“ he cuts you off suddenly.

“You made a library for me in your cafe, are you serious,” he’s trying to hold back a smile, you can tell. His scar gets more prominent when he does that. “Why,” he as asks, his voice is soft, it feels like warm milk with honey, comforting.

“You’re gonna make me say it,” you can’t see your face, but it feels hot, you can tell you’re blushing.

“Yeah, say it. Why is there a library in your cafe for me,” he says, enunciating the words “your” and “for me.” He’s smirking now. He knows the answer, he just wants to hear it from you.

The point of the library was to not have to say anything, for your actions to speak for you, but here you are. Ears burning and palms clammy.

“I…,” you trail off, you look around the room, anywhere but his face. He notices and walks closer, his hands gently make their way around your waist.

“Say it,” he exclaims, it’s not forceful, he’s smiling and shades of pink dust his cheeks.

You close your eyes shut, fuck, you’re going to have to say it.

“I really like you jas-,” and with that, his lips find their way to your own. You move in harmony, much like matcha and oat milk. His lips are sweet, he tastes like the banana bread, he decided to eat while pacing around the cafe. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, you pull back and smile. You peck his lips. Once where the scar is and once more on the centre. He grins.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear that from you,” he mumbles against your lips, waiting for you to kiss him again.

And you do, you kiss him again and again.

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