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hitomisuzuya · 2 days ago

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Hey hey Suzuuuu

I hope you can see this request..

It’s a nsfw

I would like to request Wanderer x shy fem reader at Sumeru Akademiya, a new student came in and its reader who is shy to introduce herself. And the teacher told the new student to sit next to Wanderer and Wanderer finds it annoying when he preferred to be alone.

At some time, Wanderer becomes like a bully when he likes to tease and make fun of fem reader only to see her reactions, and it makes him like want to corrupt her innocence.

wanderer (scaramouche) x fem!reader. smut corruption. fingering. bullying. minor degradation.

i want to sincerely thank everyone for letting me take my time and go through requests at my own pace 😭🥺 i feel bad, though.

wanderer only went to class that day because nahida insisted on walking him there. if she hadn't, he would gone right out into the forest to hide and maybe nap in a tree for awhile. a more valuable use of his time, in his opinion, but nahida insisted that the akademiya would be good for him.

he could practically taste your innocence the moment you walked through the lecture hall door. it was pure in a way he hadn't considered still existed. through his sheer annoyance at you being seated next to him (his table was the only empty seat. he could totally see why), he shot you a glare that sent an unexpected shiver up your spine.

"don't think we are going to be friends because you are sitting next to me," he wanted to level with you right here and now. "99% of the time, i won't even be here."

"oh, that's fine," you replied, organizing your books and tucking some hair behind your ear. "i'm not here to make friends. i am here to learn," you pursed your lips, and offered him a soft smile, "my family also has high expectations of me."

"i didn't ask," wanderer replied, crossing his arms and finding a spot to fixate on and stare at for the rest of the class. chances are he knew more things politically than the professor. the asshole who wrote that essay about what he thought happened on tatarasuna sure thought he knew everything.

still though, as much as he hates it, he kept looking at you from the corner of his eye. it was easy for him to tell what kind of girl you are in these moments. you certainly had no issue sitting there, looking pretty while you listened with such foolish intent. you even took notes on the smallest, most useless things.

did you think this knowledge may come in use later?

judging from your explanation earlier, wanderer knew exactly what to capitalize on and take advantage of.

he didn't expect you to have the most interesting reactions when he bullied you.

"it must be so hard for you," wanderer cooed condescendingly, watching you survey the mess he made by knocking all your books out of your hands. "always being a goody goody. doing your homework on time, never missing class," sighing, he kicked one of notebooks out of the way as you reached down to pick it up. "you have be getting crushed under the weight."

"i..i am just so clumsy," you stumbled over your words a little, clearly flustered. wanderer licked his lips. you are just so interesting. he'd just been so mean to you. anyone should've snapped or fought back. but not you. you had the shyest flush on your cheeks. were you enjoying this?

as for you, you are. the more interactions you have with wanderer bullying you, with his enchanting electric eyes and condescending purr to his voice, the wetter you got. it was embarrassing to you. a fact that you had a hard time coming to terms with. at first.

he even used a small gust of anemo to knock your water bottle out of your hand one day, tossing water all over your shirt (it was to see your nipples harden in your bra from cold the water was), but you only looked at him with further adoration.

but his bullying just felt so good. you couldn't possibly tell him that you often fingered yourself until you were a wet, twitching mess at night after classes.

in wanderer's still very twisted mind, corrupting you would be helping you. he didn't even know when he started coming to class everyday, but you were starting to look like you weren't sleeping well. your hands shook while you took tests.

the moment you felt wanderer's hand dip into your panties for the first time, parting your folds and grazing your clit, your hips immediately jerked up to grind on his fingers. fingers that you always thought are so ungodly beautiful it should be considered a crime.

a moan you didn't even mean to let out sounded from you. the more those beautiful fingers stroked your pussy, the more it throbbed and clenched. your eyes widened in an aroused desperation, your hole clenching around the tips of his fingers as he prodded them teasingly at your entrance.

"you poor thing," wanderer cooed, "this is probably the best you have felt ever," he slowly wagged the pads of his fingers on your clit, tearing mewls from you as he just as teasingly pinched your clit. "you are so fucking wet, your cunt will suck my fingers in."

your clit throbbed, feeling shamelessly compelled to rub your soaking pussy on his fingers. "i thought you had to get to class?" he continued. your eyes widened as he started to take his hand out of your panties. "do you know how foolish it is to try and please everyone all the time?"

your hand shot out to grasp his wrist. "no, please. i don't want to go anywhere. i want to stay right here with you," you urged his hand between your legs again. "please," your eyes watered in desperation.

wanderer chuckled. did you have an idea how much of a turn on you are in general? you, the good and innocent girl was begging to skip class and stay with him with your legs spread on his bed. fuck, you deserve to have your pretty pussy stuffed full with his fingers. "who knew you are really such a slut?"

you are breaking so well under the weight of his corruption. you couldn't think about anything other than the need to feel his fingers fucking into you. thoughts you'd never had before about anyone. until wanderer.

"good girl," he tuggedyour panties off, his cock straining from watching the soaked material peel off your pussy. "moan for me while i break you. it's what you want the most, no?" he pushed two fingers inside of you, stretching you apart and hooking them to the knuckle into your sweet spot.

you nodded, jolts of pleasure crackling through you. your eyes nearly rolled closed in pleasure as he started pumping his fingers. they would've had he not put a hand on your jaw. "no, no, kitten. i wanna see those pretty eyes of yours while i make you cum," he gently squeezed your jaw to remind you of your place.

it is erotic to him how some of your moans even had a tinge of shock in them. you are coming apart so fast, your body only relaxing and submitting to him. he was devouring you, and nothing has ever felt better in your whole life.

the pumps of his fingers grew more aggressive with your consistent moans. he stretched your pussy apart so perfectly, sussing out every sensitive spot between your walls effortlessly. "a third finger, please," you moan, rocking your hips up extra to convey your plea.

wanderer was more than happy to oblige you. he abruptly added a third finger, bullying it against your sweet spot. a near scream of pleasure tore from your throat. "are you feeling good, slut?" his cock pulsed as your walls snapped tighter around his fingers. you obviously enjoy being degraded. "you'll tend to my cock next, yes?"

you struggled to even nod, your cheeks flushed with adoration. "yes! i want to more than anything!" you cried out, stroking his wrist in appreciation as your orgasm curled tighter, your juices frothing and gathering on the insides of your thighs.

"oh? more than going to class or pleasing your family?" wanderer couldn't wait for your inevitable response. a response that would no doubt make him want to impale you on his cock even more. he couldn't break you too fast.

could he?

"yes, yes please! so much more than..than.." your words fell away, the knot of your orgasm building and tightening to an almost overwhelming degree. "anything!" you barely managed to cry out, twitching and writhing as you scrambled to chase the wonderful high unlike any other that he was providing.

wanderer couldn't help but laugh shakily, slowly stroking his cock. you look more beautiful breaking than he imagined. he knew he didn't have to keep his hand on your chin anymore. you couldn't and wouldn't dream of taking your eyes off. not when he'd demanded you to keep looking at him while you cum.

#genshin impact #genshin smut #fem!reader #genshin imagines #scaramouche #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you #wanderer #wanderer smut #wanderer x y/n #wanderer x you #wanderer x reader #tw bullying

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cobragardens · 1 year ago

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My Favorite Good Omens Moment:

An Essay on Why It Is Cool and Rad (Part 1)

There's this moment in Good Omens that makes me cackle every time I see it and leaves me full of warmth, so here's an essay on its context and meaning, because explication and analysis are how I show love. I will try to keep my thoughts as tight as possible, but they do have a tendency to spiral outwards, and I am very stoned. Come, sistren, and get nerdy with me.

My favorite moment in the series so far occurs in 1601. To approach it we will first need an assload of context. There's a TL;DR in bold at the end of the Context if you don't fancy reading the whole assload. Key arguments are in italics and bold throughout.

David Tennant gives Crowley a very consistent facial expression every time Aziraphale says something so outlandish Crowley can't quite believe he's hearing it. It's this one:

Chronologically, we see the Eyebrows of Disbelief twice before my fave moment in 1601: once (above left) in that scene on the Garden Wall that familiarizes the audience with Crowley's face before adding the dark glasses, when Aziraphale admits he's given away his sword; once when Aziraphale tells Bildad the Shuhite that he, Aziraphale, has Fallen because he lied to the angels to save Job's children.

The Eyebows of Disbelief always signal surprise and amusement with something Aziraphale has said or done. This amusement is sometimes at Aziraphale's expense and sometimes not.

In the gifs above, Crowley is laughing because what Aziraphale has just admitted to doing is fantastic and unexpected and frankly pretty gd punk rock. He's not laughing at Aziraphale, he's laughing because he is delighted with him. The only record we have thus far of Crowley laughing at Aziraphale is this one:

Crowley laughs when Aziraphale informs him--him, a demon who has personally been through the process of Falling--that Aziraphale is Fallen and must be a demon now. As though of the two of them Aziraphale is the expert on how and under what circumstances this occurs.

And yet when Crowley sees Aziraphale's distress--not his fear of being taken to Hell, but his heartbreak and lostness over the fact that his conscience has diverged from God's stated will--Crowley stops laughing, and instead he acts very kindly towards Aziraphale. He validates the gravity of what Aziraphale has done and assures him he won't turn him in. He sits with him so Aziraphale isn't totally alone (like Crowley probably was) as he goes through the loneliest moments of his existence to that point and picks himself up newly weighted with the secret he must now bear.

And after this scene (in canon as it stands thus far), we don't see Crowley laugh at anything Aziraphale says or does again.

And he really has to work for it sometimes. We talk a lot about the things Michael Sheen is able to convey with his face in Good Omens, and absolutely rightly so; David Tennant earns a chunk of his paycheck in this regard as well. If you haven't given yourself the treat yet, rewatch the scene in Will Goldstone's magic shop in 1941 and focus on Crowley's reactions:

youtube

Tennant takes great care to show, with precision, that Crowley is expending effort not to react to Aziraphale's nervous chaos Muppetry and lack of self-awareness. Crowley is self- and socially and contextually aware enough that he knows (better than Aziraphale, at least, which is not a high bar to clear) what's cringe, what's funny, what's ridiculous, how to behave. But whenever Aziraphale crosses a boundary of normalcy, or even sanity, and there is opportunity to laugh at him, Crowley very carefully doesn't react. He doesn't interrupt him, he doesn't try to correct him, he doesn't make fun of him, he doesn't even smirk; he just watches him, as stone-faced as he can manage, no matter how bizarre Aziraphale becomes.

We should be reading this lack of reaction to Aziraphale's social and rational transgressions as powerful positive action. Go watch the Doctor Who episode "Human Nature," or literally any episode of The Inbetweeners, or read or watch Regeneration, and reflect on what it shows you about English masculinity; then consider again the depth of significance in how English- and male-coded character Crowley treats English- and male-coded character Aziraphale in an England created by an English and male-codedpresenting author based off a book written by himself and another male-presenting author. Within its context of English masculinity, Crowley's lack of reaction is not a neutral stance; it is a very fucking loud show of support.

This is not even an inference; it's stated outright in the show. Crowley himself puts it into words 422 years after my favorite moment:

You know how Crowley calls Aziraphale "angel" because the factuality of the descriptor offers him plausible deniability to any Heavenly or Infernal agents who might be listening? Remember how Crowley is a great equivocator? Crowley is equivocating here, too: he's using the cover of what Maggie and Nina will take as a disparaging joke at Aziraphale's expense in order to make a perfectly sincere statement. This is his genuine perception of one of the relationship dynamics he has with Aziraphale and how he feels about that dynamic. Crowley thinks he himself is quite witty (an accurate assessment), Crowley thinks Aziraphale isn't sufficiently self- or contextually aware to hide how strange he is and therefore frequently says and does mad things (also an accurate assessment), and Crowley is Into. That. Shit.

Okay. Now let's look at 1601.

Chronologically it's been almost 1,000 years since we last saw Aziraphale and Crowley. In 537, Aziraphale isn't willing even to consider a labor-saving working arrangement with Crowley of fucking off home out of the damp of Arthurian Wessex; but by 1601, he's worked (and met, and Arranged) with Crowley "dozens of times now," Crowley says, and Azirapahle does not correct him.

In that millienium, Aziraphale has grown to care deeply about Crowley:

In fact he may be somewhat smitten with him:

Seriously, go back and watch Aziraphale here as Crowley approaches and starts speaking to him: he doesn't start smiling until he recognizes that the person speaking to him is Crowley (but he only smiles at Crowley while Crowley's not looking at him).

And Crowley is definitely become smitten with Aziraphale:

Our man(-shaped entity) is so allergic to work he sets up a meeting to weasel, cajole, or (as it happens) cheat a coin toss to get Aziraphale to do an easy temptation for him in Edinburgh, and then in the same conversation agrees to miracle a play into success because Aziraphale gives him a single hopeful look. Crowley's got it bad.

TL;DR: The Eyebrows of Disbelief happen when Crowley is surprised and amused by something Aziraphale has said or done. Sometimes that amusement is delight with Aziraphale; sometimes it is at Aziraphale's expense. Crowley is aware of this distinction, and when his amusement is at Aziraphale's expense, he suppresses it, even when it takes some effort on his own part, and remains stocially composed. This is equivocation on his part: to Celestial/Infernal operatives lacking knowledge of the intricacies of human behavior, this non-reaction would seem like neutrality; to Aziraphale, who shares with Crowley and the audience the contextual knowledge of English masculinity's utter viciousness, this non-reaction is a profound show of support; and in the safety of support from Crowley, Aziraphale lets his weirdness blossom.

As another meta points out [link if I find it again], we also see in Aziraphale's wordless request about Hamlet and Crowley's immediate understanding of it that by 1601 Aziraphale and Crowley have developed an unspoken, coded method of communication with each other.

Now that we have all of that in mind, here's my favorite moment in Good Omens:

Ixi of Fuck Yeah Good Omens has even kindly archived a closeup of the aftermath, for Crowley, of "Buck up!" In gif 4, above, you can see that the tiny smile is an involuntary reaction that happens as Crowley's eyes widen: for a fraction of a second, he's caught off-guard. In the closeup it's easier to see that he suppresses the smile and gives a tiny shake of his head, Eyebrows of Disbelief heading for his hairline.

There are a number of things Crowley's reaction could mean and what messages it could communicate (we'll get to that in a sec), but regardless, his reaction is, unquestionably, one of surprise and suppressed amusement. This is an aspect of Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship and characters that I like very much, viz., that one of the reasons Crowley likes Aziraphale (though Aziraphale is judgy and occasionally, unintentionally, horrifyingly cruel) is that in addition to being one of the kindest and most courageous beings in existence, Aziraphale is mad as a bag of frogs. Crowley does not know what is going to come out of Aziraphale's lovely mouth next, but Crowley does know there's a good chance he will struggle to believe he's hearing it, and Crowley likes that.

That's what makes this my favorite moment. What makes this moment so cool and rad, though, is its ineffability. We know from the Eyebrows of Disbelief that Crowley is surprised and amused, but any of several things could be read in that almost imperceptible headshake. Like:

What are you doing? or

Why are you like this? or

How can you be aware that you say these things out loud and yet still say them out loud? or

How has my existence come to this? this moment of listening to such insanity?

each of which is a fair and just feeling to have/message to communicate to a man(-shaped entity) who is yelling "Buck up!" at Hamlet.

But that's only if we read Crowley's amusement as being at Aziraphale's expense. And I don't think we should. Because watch Aziraphale here:

He's doing it on purpose. He is shouting a hilariously inappropriate, 100% authentic Aziraphale-brand thing over arguably the gloomiest passage of Shakespeare's famously gloomy play--right after Crowley complains about its gloominess--and he is watching Crowley as he does it. Look at his smile! He knows he's being Deeply Uncool, and he is doing it literally right into Crowley's face.

Remember that we just talked about how by this point in the chronology Crowley and Aziraphale have learned to communicate with each other nonverbally through facial expression? So what does it mean when Aziraphale responds to Crowley's grumbling about Hamlet's gloominess by smiling his minxious Mona Lisa Aziraphale smile, looking right into Crowley's face, and yelling at Hamlet to buck up? Aziraphale, in a carefully coded, carefully Aziraphale way, is joking with Crowley. His silliness in this moment is for Crowley.

So with aaaaaaallllll of this essay in mind, what does it mean that Crowley's reaction to "Come on, Hamlet! Buck up!" is widening eyes, an involuntary twitch of his mouth toward a smile, and then, his eyebrows still showing surprise and amusement, a tiny shake of his head?

Once more, with inferences:

I do propose, y'all, on the basis of this web of evidence I submit for consideration, that what we are seeing here in my favorite moment of Good Omens is the ineffable equivalent of Aziraphale and Crowley sharing a laugh.

Crowley's amusement here isn't at Aziraphale, because Aziraphale is eliciting that amusement consciously and deliberately. Aziraphale, in good spirits and happy to see Crowley, uses his Aziraphaleness to offers Crowley not only an opportunity for amusement, but the opportunity to be in agreement with him about what in this situation is funny. They're on the same side of this joke.

And his humor lands just as he wants it to: Crowley, just for a moment, is caught off-guard, and tickled--

But remember, Crowley is worried in this scene about being surveilled ("I thought you said we'd be inconspicuous here"), and he worries about audio surveillance a lot ("Walls have ears"; "Don't say that. If my lot hear [etc.]," etc.), so he's very limited in what reactions he can show or voice. Aziraphale knows Crowley must be perceived by anyone watching or listening to disapprove of his, Aziraphale's, behavior (just as he must be perceived to disapprove vociferously of Crowley's). Both of them know this.

--so Crowley suppresses the smile almost successfully, and shakes his head at Aziraphale, minutely, to say Stop. What you're doing is working, you're close to making me laugh, and if I show how much you have just delighted me, it will blow our cover of "just an Arrangement."

I offer three final data points in advancing my argument that what we see in my favorite Good Omens moment is Aziraphale successfully attempting to joke with Crowley and Crowley recognizing that overture from Aziraphale and being momentarily surprised into a reaction of genuine delight before pulling his face back under control and indicating to Aziraphale that he must stop:

Datum 1. Nothing going on with Crowley's face in this moment is accidental. We know for sure we're not seeing David Tennant react to Michael Sheen here not only because of literally every other point of Tennant's and Sheen's performances in the show, but because Tennant is wearing opaque contacts and sunglasses under film lighting and therefore cannot be reacting to anything more compelling than a level-10-lift blur because Tennant cannot see shit. Crowley's reaction is a deliberate and careful performance choice on Tennant's part, and it's underscored by director Douglas Mackinnon's choice to film Tennant in 1/2 profile to keep Crowley's eyes visible and face readable to the audience. This reaction is supposed to be there and supposed to be meaningful.

Datum 2. The husbands in 1601 is not the only moment in Good Omens when we may be seeing an angel and a demon communicate the message Stop doing that, it makes us look too familiar between themselves with a little headshake:

Datum 3: There is another moment in Good Omens when Aziraphale offers Crowley the opportunity to enjoy a joke with him. There, too, his humor lands just as he intends, so we can use this other moment as a comparison to our 1601 moment. I don't have gifs for it, but go back and watch it, S1E6 49:27-42. Snips below.

Aziraphale says something that surprises and amuses Crowley (he asked Hell for a rubber duck while he was sloshing around in the holy water)--

--but what Aziraphale says makes Crowley smile long before it makes him laugh.

In fact, his laugh, though a genuine cackle, is quite delayed, and he laughs only after Aziraphale starts laughing too.

In other words, Crowley's reaction to Aziraphale offering him amusement they're both on the same side of is exactly the same as his reaction to "Come on, Hamlet! Buck up!" right up until he laughs instead of shaking his head. Here, after Armageddidn't, Crowley doesn't have to suppress his reaction, so he can let the smile bloom; he doesn't have to control his response, so, although it takes him a few extra seconds, he lets the smile turn into a laugh.

But in 1601, it's not safe to laugh at Aziraphale's humor. It's not safe even to smile at him. A single piece of evidence or eye/earwitness testimony that he and Crowley have anything more friendly than the most passing and acrimonious of professional relationships could mean death to either or both of them, and depending on what Falling is like, maybe something worse than death for Aziraphale.

But Aziraphale is so funny, so effervescent for Crowley, at Crowley, that it catches Crowley just for a moment. Crowley's eyes widen and the corner of his mouth twitches toward a smile.

And that's dangerous. If Aziraphale keeps acting so charmingly mad, Crowley is going to laugh, and they can't afford that risk, so he shakes his head at Aziraphale. Stop, or I won't be able to keep a straight face around you.

And Aziraphale apparently receives that message, because he immediately eases off. Less than 60 seconds later we learn that he's deeply concerned for Crowley's safety--and that it's not so much that Aziraphale has Crowley wrapped around his little finger as it is that Crowley has wrapped himself around Aziraphale's little finger like a snake arranging itself on the tree branch it calls home.

UPDATE 14/10/23: HOLY SHIT Y'ALL IT GETS EVEN BETTER! THERE IS A SEQUEL!

#good omens #good omens meta #good omens 1601 #good omens microexpressions #good omens headshake #angelfish #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #good omens fanalysis

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ghost-proofbaby · 2 years ago

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twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR ELEVEN

in which a line is crossed, and a lie is told.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, smut, upside down does not exist, fingering, oral (m receiving, allusions to f receiving), p in v (be like eddie and r! use protection!), use of mean nicknames (slut), ass slapping, hair pulling, minors dni

→ wc: 7.5k+

→ a/n: the smut has arrived! shout out to @abibliophobiaa and @myosotisa my loves for helping me, but also horny hours in general haha. the pep talks were very much needed and very appreciated.

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

11:00 ──────ㅇ─────────── 24:00

SIX MONTHS EARLIER

A drink. What you need is a drink.

The moment Robin and Steve brought up the small get together, you’d agreed instinctually. It had been a long month, hard and full of life throwing unexpected punches your way, and the only way you could think to soothe it was with terrible mixed drinks in your friend’s kitchen.

First, it had been the tire on your bike popping. Which in itself wasn’t a catastrophe, but you realized very quickly that going out and about around campus was nearly impossible on foot. You’d shown up to most classes late, not adjusting for the fact you were far slower when walking across campus than you were riding. And then it was your classes; the teachers were already upset as it was in your smaller classes regarding your perpetual tardiness, but to top it all off, every assignment seemed to not be enough. No matter what you submitted, what changes you made to essays sent back to you, it was becoming more impossible to maintain a resemblance of a respectable GPA. You’d nearly flunked a test in your humanities class, when you’d asked for a professor to go back a slide for notes they’d glared and refused the reasonable request. When you’d not understood a question on your literature homework and sent an email plenty of days in advance, the teacher only got back to you once the due date had passed.

And the dates. The terrible, terrible dates of the month.

There was the first guy, who had been kind enough. A simple meeting over coffee and by the time the lattes were cold, you knew there’d be no second date. That was fine. You could live with that.

The second guy had more potential. A first date in a bar was almost a red flag, but after a fun game of pool, you’d agreed to meet again. The second date was at a restaurant that you learned he’d taken his ex-girlfriend to; actually, you’d learned a bit too much about his ex-girlfriend that night. She was the only thing he could talk about, and when you’d later explained that over text for being your reason against a third date, he’d called you every crude name in the book.

And the final guy. A guy you’d really liked, that you’d been messaging back and forth since a month before. He was a busy guy, a bartender and full time student, and you understood – you really did. But he was charismatic and lured you in over the phone, and you hadn’t been so giddy for a date in a while. It felt like there were sparks, like he might be the one.

He didn’t show up. Last night, you’d sat like a fool at the restaurant you two agreed upon for two hours before realizing he wasn’t showing. Sipped your way through two ciders, even picked on an appetizer of fries, telling yourself he’d show up. He was just busy. He’d show up.

He never showed up. He didn’t even text you. The waiter had waived your bill for the night, but his look of pity only made your stomach twist worse.

Pathetic. You felt pathetic.

“We’re all getting together at my place tonight,” Steve had whispered to you during class that morning as you two were packing up things as the lecture ended, “Everyone’s just going to hang out, drink, let loose. You should come.”

And so you came, overly optimistic about the entire idea. You didn’t even think to ask if Eddie was going to be here – even he couldn’t dampen your excitement at a break after the month you’d had, even with his recent mean streak.

Mean. You’d never thought after that first night you’d be able to describe him that way. Cold, sure. Callous, perhaps. Indifferent, of course. But mean? Mean didn’t seem like something others saw Eddie as genuinely capable of. Steve always ranted about how good of a guy he was, Robin would tell fun stories of nights out with him and how much of a good time he was, Nancy considered the guy her best friend. You knew your new friends, and you didn’t take them as being the type to befriend someone so unkind.

But you didn’t see the good guy, the fun guy, the best friend. Whenever Eddie Munson was around you, his guard was up and his words were sharp. They cut through your unbridled disappointment with ease, reminding you that you were not his friend. You weren’t even sure if you were an acquaintance.

And sure, you took it too far at the diner. You could admit that, even before Robin scolded you. But to see him sitting with someone not from your friend group, to see him being so kind and endearing to someone new, had burned you with fury like no other. If he could treat some blonde he’d surely matched with on a dating app so sweetly, why couldn’t he afford you the same warmth? Someone he saw nearly weekly?

So you went for blood. Except, you were the only one wounded in the end, after the silent treatment you’d had to endure as you watched Eddie clench his jaw and pretend you didn’t exist.

“What are you drinking tonight?” Steve smiles when you enter his kitchen, brows still furrowed in careful thought over your miserable month, “I’m guessing something strong?”

“The strongest thing you’ve got, Harrington,” you reply, trying to shake back into excitement. It was going to be fun. You were going to drink with friends, partake in silly conversations no one would remember come morning, and you were going to have fun.

Steve holds up a bottle of vodka, a name brand you don’t care to acknowledge, along with a 2-liter of Coke, “Think this’ll work?”

You nod, and he pours. When he hands you the crystal cup reeking of overpoured alcohol, you take a sip and nod.

Oh, yeah. Two of these and I won’t even remember Mr. Stood-Me-Up.

“I heard about your date,” Steve means well, but the reminder is the exact opposite of what you want. You’re quick to glare at Robin, who throws her hands up in defense.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you quip, taking a larger second sip. If you weren’t trying to pace yourself, you’d probably chug the entire thing, “Not much to talk about, anyways. Got some free food and alcohol out of it, at least.”

“That’s good! I bet you dodged a bullet.”

I probably didn’t. “We can only hope.”

Steve pours himself a drink as well as Robin, and you can hear Nancy and Jonathan already chattering in the living room. No sign of Eddie so far. Maybe he wasn’t coming, and you’d finally caught a break.

“To forgetting the names of men who suck,” Steve chides as he raises his glass, and Robin mirrors him. You hesitate for a moment, a fraction of a second.

You were starting to believe it wasn’t them, it was you. You were the common denominator of all the terrible dates. Did sparks not fly with the Coffee Boy because you dampened the fuse? Was two-date-chump only talking to you about his exes because you didn’t provide anything interesting enough to take his mind off them? Surely, it had to be your fault that you were stood up the night before. Surely.

You pull from your pity party, and nimbly raise your glass. The rim hardly brushes that of your friends’ cups, but you all throw back your poisons of choice regardless. They don’t seem to notice the way you’ve begun to float within your head, the way you’re crashing through violent waves of pathetic self-hatred.

It was you. You’re the problem, and you’re the only one who can solve it. Eventually.

Robin is dramatically gagging on what you think might be redbull and vodka as Steve silently grimaces at his straight whiskey, clearing his throat before he says, “Okay, I know you don’t want to talk about last night, but Robin mentioned you’ve had a few dates this last month. Anything worth sharing? Any luck?”

There’s a snappy remark of clearly not on the tip of your tongue when the doorbell rings down the hall, and the three of you all turn your heads as Nancy calls out that she’s got it.

—

HOUR ELEVEN - 2:00 AM

Once Eddie starts kissing you, he can’t stop.

It isn’t soft, nor caring – the moment his hands meet the flesh of your hips, it’s bruising. He doesn’t even break for air as he fumbles with the knob blindly, giving a final twist of his keys before the door swings open behind you and the two of you stumble backwards into the sanctuary of his apartment. It’s all teeth, it’s all desperation, it’s the accumulation of a year of snide remarks and low-blow insults all coming to head as he kicks the door shut behind you and spins so that your back meets the wood.

Your hands are tangled in the curls at the nape of his neck and– oh God, when did you reach up and grab at his hair in the first place?

He groans at the force of your fist, and it suddenly doesn’t matter. You don’t care how they got there – you only care to keep them there.

He finally breaks the kiss, spit trailing between your lips as you both gasp out breaths, “You-” he dives back in, capturing your lips between his in a harsh and quick action before another break, “fucking-” another break, another gasp. He remains close enough that each harsh exhale flows right into your mouth, down your throat and into your lungs, “infuriate-” this time, he pauses, not moving back in for another kiss as his forehead is pressed hard against yours, eyes wide open and boring into yours, “me.”

The venom that laces the words don’t scare you. It’s all verbal aposematism, rehearsed and practiced hatred that bears no weight, not anymore. Not as his hips are digging into yours and another tug of his hair has him putty in your hands.

You know the dance well. You know the next step.

“Good.”

His next kiss is even more vicious, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip and making you whine into him, one hand finally unraveling from his curls to find purchase in fisting the leather of his jacket. There’s a fine line that neither of you are daring to cross, only toeing as teeth and tongues clash.

This time, when he pulls away, you’re the one chasing after him. You don’t care about breathing; you care about his lips on yours, sucking all the smoke and oxygen from your lungs.

He’s the one to finally cross the line. A hand comes up to your throat, not nearly as rough as it should be, as he keeps you in place with the back of your head pressed to his front door. A pleading mewl leaves your lips of its own accord.

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t be so desperate.”

The line’s been crossed, the chords all snapping between you two. There are no invisible strings tying you to the man before you, the man that has you aching between your trembling thighs and erratic breaths. Only gravity.

“Me? Desperate?” your voice nearly fails you as you lean into his touch surrounding your throat, preening forward so that your lips brush his, “I’m not the one fucking off to porn magazines that look like you, pretty boy.”

You’re both on the same side of the line now as you watch his eyes darken. It’s a sensitive topic, a bruise you’ve chosen to prod out in the hopes that he’ll break at the same alarming rate as you.

You need him to fuck you. You need him to use you, to throw any caution or revelations to the wind. You want him to push you so far you can’t remember your own name, let alone all the emotions that travel the channels between you.

“Think you can do any better than my hand, baby?” he questions as he buries his head into the crook of your shoulder, breath and lips leaving a buzz along the skin he comes in contact with. His fingers tighten ever so slightly, and your head rushes with a weightless bliss.

Your pulse is against his thumb, drumming beneath the pressure of it as you reply, “Do you think you can do any better than mine?”

A dozen insinuations layer the words, and he catches every single one. Your lashes flutter into your eyesight, lids growing heavy as he lifts his face from your shoulder and looks at you wickedly, grin spreading treacherously.

“Are you trying to tell me you touch yourself to me?” he taunts, pressing closer, “You thinkin’ of me at night when you get lonely, all desperate and pathetic, wrapped up in your own sheets? Do you wish it was my fingers, and not yours?”

Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying. “In your dreams, Munson.”

“Of course,” he chuckles, “I thought that was a given. Don’t tell me you’re so dumb you’ve figured out I get myself off to your lookalikes, but not that I dream about you, sweetheart.”

The thought of it makes your stomach flutter, your thighs clench. He’s quick to shove his knee between your legs, letting you drop so that your crotch nearly brushes his thigh. But the distance remains and no relief from friction comes, he makes sure of it as his fingers finally lift slightly, letting the blood rush back to your head and into your cheeks.

“Is that what you were thinking about in the bathroom?”

His movements finally falter. You almost have the upperhand again, you almost have him back in your palms, back down to your height in cockiness.

You take his silence in stride, a smirk gracing your own face, “Oh, you were, weren’t you?” you pause, and drop a hand to his torso, nails raking over his shirt and making him suck in a sharp breath, “You thought I wouldn’t hear? You were being so awfully loud, y’know. Surprised you didn’t say my name.”

He breathes back to life, hand unwrapping from your throat to grip your chin, his thumb just barely making contact with your bottom lip as he tugs softly, “You would have fuckin’ liked that, wouldn’t you? As if I didn’t feel you get so hot and bothered by me on the bike,” it’s your turn to freeze, realizing your fears were valid, and he laughs lowly, “Oh, yeah, baby. I felt that. Hard to miss when you were clinging to me like I was your goddamn savior. What were you thinking about, hm? I bet you were thinkin’ about just that – me moaning for you, cumming for you. I bet it drove you fucking crazy, didn’t it?”

“What were you thinking about in the bathroom?” you whisper as his thumb presses harder into your lip, “Show me yours, I’ll show you mine.”

Your hand finally drops to its destination, cupping him through his sweatpants, wrapping around his girth.

He’s big. Bigger than you had expected, and he knows you’re shocked by the way you still once more, cocking his head at you with the utmost confidence.

He’s fucking lucky to be packing. It’d be a shame to be such an asshole and not have the ability to back up all his talk.

“You want me to be honest right now?” he asks, a thread of seriousness binding his words. You don’t hesitate to nod, even with his grip on your chin, “I was thinking about your mouth. Thinking about those pretty lips wrapped around my cock. I was thinking about you on your knees and those eyes looking up at me, all teary as I fucked your mouth.”

Your grip on him tightens, and you make the daring move to suck the tip of his thumb into your mouth, making eye contact as your tongue swirls around it.

“Fuck me,” he groans, throwing his head back, his grip immediately falling slack on your face. You see the opportunity and take it, surging forward to latch your lips onto his exposed neck. You start with light kisses, pressing them in rapid succession down the vein that lays poorly hidden by the stretched skin, pausing once you get closer to where the expanse meets his jaw.

“I’m trying to,” you taunt before sucking hard.

He moans loudly, echoing off the walls of his apartment, the hand still on your waist turning into an even more impossibly tight grip. The hand that once held your face has come up to tangle in your hair, gripping you by the roots and pulling you away just as the blood vessels on the surface have burst and bloomed in full shades of red and pink.

Your scalp burns as he pulls you to be face to face with him, eyes hard as you keep your hand on his clothed dick. You can feel him twitch as your palm at him, no longer caring about being desperate. You were desperate. You wanted him to give up the game, set aside the chase, and ruin you. You wanted his neighbors to hear as you chanted his name like a prayer, as every memory of every reason as to why you resented him fled your system with each thrust of his hips that could pin you to the wall.

“Is that what you want?” he’s no longer teasing you, his tone sounding as if he were asking for permission now rather than taunting you any further, “You want me to ruin you, sweetheart?”

The chase is nearing its end, and you nearly shatter with anticipation.

With one last trick up your sleeve, one last attempt to break him, you shrug as if you aren’t flushed and terribly flustered to the point of no return, “I guess. That’s one way to pass the time.”

When he breaks, it is sudden, and it is unkind. One moment, your break is aching from being pressed against wood, and your core is throbbing as you consider dropping to his thigh to find your own relief. The next, he’s throwing you around carelessly as his mouth slots to yours once more.

Just as it doesn’t matter how your hands found their way into his hair, it doesn’t matter how he pulls you from the door and navigates you to his couch. Your mind isn’t focused on where your body ends up, it’s focused on the feeling of his lips, chapped and pressing to yours eagerly. It’s focused on the way that the weight of his hands pressed tightly to your lower back feels. It’s focused on the overwhelming spice of his cologne, the smell of the night air still clinging to his cheek, the taste of his salt water as you dive under and let yourself begin to drown.

He’s consuming you, lungs and all. Limbs and all. Mind and all.

It’s a bad decision. This is going to be both of your downfalls, and you should stop before it goes too far.

You don’t stop it. Neither does he. All he does is throw you down to sit on his couch as he falls to his knees in front of you, bringing a palm to each knee and spreading your legs as he settles between them.

He’s the prettiest you’ve seen him yet. Even prettier than the first night. His lips are swollen pink, puffy and still lingering with your spit. Your mark on him, the first of many you need to leave, right along with the bruise on his neck. You wonder how hard you’d have to bite to bring blood tonight, you wonder which other spots on his neck would make him melt against you as you explored him fervently and left a whole collection of bruises that spell out your message very clearly – he’s mine for tonight.

His chest heaves as his eyes stare up into yours, hands gripping each of your knees. Even through the cotton, your skin is burning from his touch, your wildfire still thriving as you navigate this ocean he’s thrown the two of you into. A man-made river, more like it. It was made by his hand, it was created treacherously and with purpose against you, and yet you’re still here wading in it, also by his hand.

“Tell me to stop,” he begs, unexpected as his hands squeeze you, his eyes zeroing in on his palms as they travel up to your thighs, pulling you closer and making your back slide down the cushion from the position you’re seated in, “Tell me you hate me.”

For a second, you almost tell him you can’t. You can’t tell him to stop. Not as your leg lifts and his shoulder fits perfectly into the ditch of your knee, not as his hands creep further up to the band of the borrowed sweatpants. And once his fingers curl into the waist, knuckles pressing to your soft skin, you know you won’t.

“Don’t stop,” you whisper, making his eyes shoot up to meet yours again, “I hate you, but don’t you fucking dare stop.”

Quickly, at an almost impossible rate of speed, he yanks the sweats down off of you. They’re tossed behind him into a pile on his living room floor, uncared for and quickly forgotten.

Once your skin is exposed to him, he’s planting messy kisses linearly up your shin, over your inner knee, until he reaches your thighs. Marks are left in his wake, shades of deep maroon fading lilac as he nips and sucks against them just as you had to his neck.

“Show me yours,” he mumbles into your skin, fingertips pressing indents as he openly mouths over the hickies left behind.

“What?”

“I showed you mine, now show me yours,” he insists with wild eyes, hair hardly contained by the bun that once contained the curls, “When you touch yourself, what do you think about?”

“You,” you sigh out as he presses another kiss to you, even higher up now, growing dangerously close to your cunt.

“What about me?” he pushes, staring up as he removes contact, “Use your words, baby.”

“I-” you can’t think clearly, mind muddled with smoke and the image of him there before you, on his knees, “I think about your fingers instead of mine. How thick they are, how they’d feel.”

His smile shows little satiation, “Go on.”

You’re so focused on getting the words out, you nearly don’t notice a hand loosening its grip on your thigh, inching up to your panties, playing with the lace edges.

“I think about how deep you’d go, how you’d curl your fingers just- fuck,” you cut off with a gasp when his fingers slide beneath cotton, brushing over your wet folds.

“Just fuck?” he mimics, pouting slightly, “Afraid I’ve never heard that one before. Might need you to demonstrate for me. How do I curl my fingers just fuck?”

“Fuck you,” you whine, writhing beneath his touch as your ankles lock behind his head.

“I’m trying to,” he pitches his voice to mock your own, and you regret ever saying the words to him. He clicks his tongue against his teeth, shaking his head, “God, you want me to fuck you so bad, it’s making you stupid.”

His fingers stop teasing you as he finds your entrance, circling only the tip of his pointer finger to gather the slickness. Your hips buck, the desperation clawing its way through your entire body now, leaving ash and destruction in its path before Eddie brings an arm across your waist to hold you down to the couch firmly.

“Beg for it,” he commands, voice shooting straight into your chest, “Be a good girl and say please, yeah?”

His finger still circles your entrance, teasing but never quite pressing in, leaving you a whimpering mess. You begin to wonder if there will be any sign of how hard his forearm is pinned against you.

A battle of both your prides. He can feel you burning up now, he sees the flames dancing and he’s willing to play with them rather than give in to you.

You have to bite your lip to avoid letting the please on the tip of your tongue slip out for him. You’re still fighting him, still defying him.

“I have been far nicer to you than you deserve,” he continues his taunts, a grin growing when he catches the way you’re physically holding back, “We both know it, so just say it. Say the word, and I’ll keep playing nice.”

His finger breeches your entrance slightly, and you gasp, head thrown back immediately, “When have you ever been nice?”

He tsks, removing the tip of his finger, letting it glide up between your folds before it stops just short of your clit, “Oh, I’m always nice. You just never seem to notice.”

You think about it again. All the acts of kindness that went under the radar, all the times you’d buried in an effort to continue to harbor detestation for the man before you. He’s right – he probably doesn’t realize it, but he’s far more correct than you’d give him credit for at this moment.

“Please fuck me,” you whisper to the ceiling, before swallowing hard and leaning your chin back down, looking him in his eyes as you decide to give him more than he asked for, “Please ruin me.”

You’ve watched a mirage of emotions flush across his face on every possible occasion. Anger, distaste, aggression, laughter, annoyance. But you’ve never seen want quite like this grace his features.

“Gladly.”

His fingertip circles your clit, once, twice, three times, applying the perfect amount of pressure to have you crying out before he’s removing his forearm and nearly tearing your underwear to move it to the side and thrusting two fingers into your desperate cunt immediately.

You sob out and nearly double over, the sting and stretch making you keen as he wastes no time. You’ve said the magic word, you’ve played his game, and now, he’s returning the favor.

He’s playing nice. And, God, is nice quite the word to describe what he’s doing to you as he pumps his fingers into you, thrusting them in as deep as his knuckles allow before he curls them and brushes the spot that could make you scream with the right skill set.

He has the skill set. He notes your clenching on his fingers, and he curls again, with more intent this time.

Maybe the thin walls only apply to the inside of his apartment, if you’re lucky.

“Is this what you want?” he questions, leaning in so close to you that you feel his breath wash over you, “Is this what you meant by ruining you?”

You nod, finding it becoming increasingly harder to speak as you gasp, “Y- Oh, fuck. Yes. Ple- fuck. Please.”

He pauses, and you nearly scream out in frustration and protest before he rips your underwear off of you, dragging it down your legs and forcing your ankle to unlock from behind his head as he fights with the flimsy piece of cotton. You expect him to throw it, to let it join the sweats, but instead, he brings them to his face. He’s wolfish as he looks up at you, taking a deep breath in with the cotton pressed to his nose, not saying a word but watching you clench around nothing as he finally tosses the panties over his shoulder.

You see them catch on the coffee table, nowhere near the sweats.

“Smell so sweet, baby,” he coos, bringing his fingers back to you, his tongue peeking out to lick his lips, “I might just have to tast-”

A phone ringing cuts him off. The trill cuts through the silence, piercing both your ears, making you look at each other in fright.

“Don’t answer it,” the words burst out before you think them over. You don’t care about your friends right now. You don’t care about the bet.

You care about his fingers back inside you, curling and hitting that spot you’ve spent endless nights fighting to find without success. You care about getting his clothes off of him, of your eyes tracing over his skin and the ink you’ve yet to see. You care about his cock, springing to attention, before he’s sheathing it inside of you and bringing you both to utter bliss.

A phone call is at the bottom of your priorities right now. You just don’t care.

“It’s your phone,” he counters, glancing behind the two of you to where your phone is buried in the heap of black clothing, “I’m not answering it. But…”

“I’m not answering it, either.”

“If we don’t answer-”

“Eddie, I could fucking care less,” you sit up roughly, leaning in as close as you can in the compromising position, “We’re not answering it.”

The phone continues to ring, and he looks between you and it in clear confusion, “They’ll just keep calling-”

“Let them,” you insist, “If you don’t get your dick in me within the next minute, I’ll call this entire thing off,” you add on the last part as you reach out and your legs fall off his shoulders, hands replacing where your knees once rested as you bring his lips into yours.

Teeth, tongue, salt water, ash. It drowns out the final few rings as you continue to tug on Eddie feverishly, forcing him to rise from his position on the ground and kneel on the edge of the couch, a hand balancing him upright by gripping the back of the couch. Your kiss is all the convincing he needs.

“Fuck, fine, fine, I-” he cuts off, removing himself from you long enough to shrug off his leather jacket, to reach up and grab the collar of his shirt, yanking it over his head. The bun has officially unraveled to completion, curls flowing down over his collarbones and shoulders. You can’t keep your hands off him, fingertips immediately pressing into the exposed skin, “Just give me a second.”

He stands, and you whine, making him snicker as he kicks off the grey sweatpants.

“So impatient,” he teases, and you watch his face light up in delight as you can only bite your tongue in response. There’s something more there, something to be considered later. Later, when you aren’t aching for him. Later, when the moment of desperation has passed, when his waves retreat from your shores and you find yourself capable of breathing fresh air once more.

Later is not now.

The moment he’s down to just his boxers, you’re done waiting, doing as he had for you and dropping your knees to the carpet below.

“Hey, what are you doin-” he’s interrupted by you leaning forward, looking up at him intently as you kiss the tip of his dick through his boxers. Your lips come in contact with the wet spot clearly forming, and you can see the shiver roll down his spine, “Oh, fuck. What the Hell happened to me… me getting… me getting my dick in you…” He’s trailing off, unable to focus as your fingers slip beneath the waistband and tug down, his dick slapping against his exposed stomach.

“It still counts if you fuck my mouth,” is all you say as his boxers pool at his ankles, and you don’t even wait for him to step out of them.

Your phone is ringing again. You can feel the vibrations through the floor as you wrap a hand around his base, as you lean forward and place a proper kiss to his leaking tip, swirling your tongue in the precum.

This time, the two of you don’t argue about answering it. It’s hard to as your mouth is full of him, and his is full of curses.

“Jesus Christ, I- Fuck, right there,” he’s gasping as you wrap your lips around the tip fully, just as you’d done with his thumb, sucking gently and making his hand fly down to rest on the back of your head.

You bob down a few times, hollowing your cheeks and taking him deeper and deeper until your nose presses into the coarse hairs resting at the base. You pause, letting your nose press into him as you breathe deeply, feeling him hit the back of your throat. Your eyes water, just as he described, and you take pride in the way he can’t even look at you now.

You pull back, letting him drop from your mouth, smiling widely, “Better than your hand, right?”

“Fuck off,” his hand rest at the back of your head grips the hair there, tangling up as he shoots you a glare.

“Say it’s better than your hand, and I’ll fuck you off,” you press, letting a hand travel to fondle his balls, pinching the skin delicately, watching his reaction roll through him like waves.

“I- Fucking obviously,” he hisses as you smile, leaning down and pressing kisses along the shaft, “God, of course your mouth is better than my fucking hand. Of course it fucking is.”

“It better be,” you goad before taking him back into your mouth. This time, you suck harder, and his grip on your hair is painful once more.

“Shit.”

He’s at a loss for words, devolving into guttural groans and babbling moans as you quicken your pace, determined now.

You wanted to ruin him. After a year of his bullshit, after suffering through every fight and every argument, every passive glare and every turbulent comment, you want to make them man standing over you crumble to pieces.

Except he wasn’t just crumbling, he was shattering. Splintering apart as his hips started to thrust to meet your mouth, as you choked around him and refused to let up, resorting to stuttering inhales through your nose as you pressed your face back to his pubes, swallowing accidentally and making him nearly scream.

“Shit. Shit- stop. I’m going to f-fucking cum, stop,” he’s pulling you off of him suddenly, gasping for breath, not letting you refuse and push him over the edge.

You’re smug as you lean onto your heels, wiping your mouth clean of the spit that strings from your bottom lip to his red tip with the back of your hand.

“I think I win,” you state plainly, as if you weren’t currently taking heaving breaths, desperate to catch your breath and have his hands back on you.

“Win? Wh- It’s not a fucking competition,” he scowls, raking a hand down over his face, chest flush.

“It is, and I fucking won.”

“Yeah? You think you won, baby?”He recovers quickly, you’ll give him that. He goes from a complete mess to a force to be reckoned with in an absolute instant, stepping out of his boxers and kicking them from his warpath before he reaches down to tug you to your feet, “In that case, if this is a competition, I think I deserve a second chance.”

You open your mouth to be a smart ass, to say something cruel or something mean, but he steps back before you have the chance.

The look of want has turned stormy, confident and eliciting. A hurricane beckoning to you as he snaps his fingers.

“Take your fucking shirt off, and get on the couch, all fours.”

“I-”

“Now.”

There’s no more fires, no more oceans, and no more petty arguments left in you. You listen to him.

You throw off the sweatshirt, his sweatshirt, as he goes to one of the tables beside the couch and opens a drawer roughly.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, unhooking your bra as well, fully naked and aware that his eyes weren’t on you yet, “You just keep fucking condoms in your living room?”

“Who said I was looking for fucking condoms?”

“Oh, my bad. I just assumed. Should have known you were getting me naked just to go searching for fucking Narnia in your drawers.”

You were wrong. He was looking at you, and you’re only made aware by the sharp slap across your bare ass at the comment. It makes you spin quickly, looking at him and his set jaw.

“Couch. All fours. Now.”

“You’re such a sore loser,” you snark, taking a few steps back, trying to ignore the way the sting on your backside has your clit throbbing.

“You have no idea, baby,” he says without a hint of joking, looking back down into the drawer and continuing to dig as you turn away from him again.

Despite feeling exposed, you do as you’re told – you get onto the couch on all fours as he requested, knees digging into a surprisingly soft cushion that surely hadn’t felt that way earlier in the night when you’d attempted to sleep on the piece of furniture. You don’t dare to glance back at him over your shoulder when the drawer finally slams shut, hearing his heavy breathing as he returns to you being enough to force you to shut your eyes and take in a sharp gasp.

“Still feeling like a winner?” his voice winds around you, nearly choking you as you feel a feathering fingertip trail across your lower back.

“Always,” you lie breathily, voice betraying you as it shakes.

You feel the couch dip from behind you, legs spreading as Eddie fits himself between your calves, one hand latching onto your hip.

“God, I can’t wait to fuck the brat out of you.”

Without warning, he’s lining himself up with your entrance and pushing in, taking all the breath from your lungs as you collapse down onto your elbows and your cheek brushes the cushion of the couch.

It burns, his cock forcing you to stretch and accommodate you, filling you at an unbelievable rate.

You knew he was fucking big, but you hadn’t considered the consequences until this moment, as he truly feels as if he’s just begun his ruining of you.

“Fu-” the curse is lost in your throat, a small gasp as you press yourself down even further into the couch, mind swimming.

“Oh, no,” he tuts, sounding completely unaffected until he leans down over you as he bottoms out. When he gets closer, you catch it – the hitch in his breath, the way he pauses before he can speak, “That won’t do, sweetheart.”

He brings a hand back to your throat, just as he had when you two first entered the apartment, when the fight for dominance first began. It’s more from the pressure of his forearm across your chest, but the pressure is still applied on both sides as he guides you to straighten up your body against him, making him hit new angles that have you hissing out.

“I said on all fours, not just waving your ass in the air like some slut,” you clench around him at his words, and he chuckles breathlessly, “You like that, don’t you? You like being my fucking slut.”

You can only moan in response as he slowly pulls back his hips, feeling every inch of him beginning to retreat from you at an agonizing pace.

“You’re pitiful,” he groans into your ear, pressing his thumb further against your throat, cutting off the circulation for only a moment. Just long enough to send a rush to your head, “You say you hate me, say you can’t fucking stand me, but get cock drunk just from me putting it in. I’m only getting started and you’re speechless.”

You can only continue your pathetic whimpers, reaching back to grasp onto him before he tuts once more.

“Pathetic, baby.”

He slams back in, letting you drop forward. This time, you keep yourself up on your hands, letting out more small gasps, all of the noises getting half stuck on your tongue.

“But you’re winning, right?” he taunts, accentuating each word with a thrust as he begins to pick up his pace, “You’re the winner here, right?”

You don’t answer him, nearly drooling when he reaches forward and grabs up your hair, curling it around his wrist carefully before he pulls. It hurts, it makes you clench down on him, it has you babbling out nonsense you’re completely unaware of.

Each time he snaps his hips forward, his skin collides with yours, ricocheting off the walls around the two of you. Your arms shake, but you stay steady, refusing to collapse beneath him and the euphoria that scathes you.

He pulls your hair harder this time, making you arch your back into him, “Tell me you hate me.”

You cry out, feeling him hit even deeper as his free hand forces your hips to meet every thrust.

“Say it, baby. Tell me just how much you hate me,” he huffs out, clearly barrelling as quickly to his own release as you are, “Say you hate my guts,” another sharp thrust, and his balls slap against you, catching your clit and making your knees shake, “Say you can’t stand me. Go ahead, baby, say it.”

“I hate you,” you weakly respond, eyes tearing up as you feel your gut twist. Your fire, your blooms, his ocean. He’s making good on his promise – he’s ruining you, and you’re reveling in the wake of it all. Embers char you from the inside out, and your brain fogs over in pleasure.

“Say it like you mean it.”

“I m-mean it,” you gasp when he reaches around, chest pressing to your back, finger hovering over your clit, “Fuck, right there, please. I mean it. Please, please-”

“Say it again, like you really mean it this time, and I’ll let you cum.”

He stills, deep inside you, waiting with bated breath as his chin ghosts over the back of your shoulder. You stare straight ahead. If you glance down, you’d find your hands turned to fists, his ring still glittering on your finger.

He’s destroyed you. To unimaginable levels. You can’t comply with his request, not without becoming a liar, because it occurs to you that the man currently wrecking you is not a man you’re capable of hating. You hated the situation the two of you were in, you hated the year wasted, you hated the looming pressure of your friends awaiting a return call, you hated the words exchanged between the two of you with the intention of cutting deep. You hated many things surrounding him, but you didn’t hate him.

At Eddie’s core, he is still the man you first met. He’s finally drowned you, dragged you to the bottom of his ocean, and you can see that now. The man that first reeled you in at the bar never left, simply shrank away, hid himself away from you for some unknown reason that you hate. The man that dazzled you, enticed you, provided you with the opportunity of safety still exists.

“I hate you,” you grit out, fisting at the cover of the cushions, your entire body on edge. From him, from revelations, from a build of hate that had been misdirected for far too long.

“Good,” he gasps out, mouth falling open and against your skin, teeth grazing you, “Then this changes nothing.”

You don’t have time to ponder, or wonder why he didn’t mention the feeling being mutual. Once the words leave both of you, his finger connects with your clit, working an expert pattern that has you preening as his vigorous thrusting returns. It’s harsher than before, pain and pleasure blurring together as your scalp aches, your vines tighten, and your flames erupt.

Your vision whites out, and you don’t hear your screams of relief as much as you feel them. Your throat is hoarse, tears leak from the corners of your eyes, and the tension vanishes from your muscles.

Your arms collapse finally, and you don’t fight the way your cheek presses against rough fabric as his hips begin to stutter, his own ecstasy flooding over him before he’s crashing with you.

The two of you stay that way for a second, skin on skin, words lingering in the air, threatening to vanish. You don’t care – you match your breathing to his as he doesn’t pull out immediately.

A vibrating comes from the floor amongst the shared bliss, both of you too fucked out to move to go answer the phone. The money doesn’t matter anymore, not to you.

Everything aches. You come to realize just how rough the two of you had treated each other, pains ringing out from your throat, from your ass, from your abused cunt. Your knees are surely marked from the couch and floor alike, your scalp is screaming in relief without Eddie’s grip against it.

You don’t regret it. You don’t regret any of it, except a singular lie.

I hate you.

What a brilliant, foolish, laughable, bullshit attempt at a lie.

taglist: @catherinnn @haylaansmi @gaysludge @paprikaquinn @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @amira0303 @blushingquincy @hellkaisersangel @eddieslittlewh0re @ajkamins @prettyboy200 @munsonzzgf @blue-eyed-lion @digwhatudug @madaboutjoe @wickedslashdivine @sweet-villain @somespicystuff @big-ope-vibes @jadequeen88 @sylviin @emma77645 @notbeforelong @lolalanaie @lo-siento-ama @happy-and-alone @micheledawn1975 @aysheashea @moon-huny @munsonswrld @bambipowerblueaddition @averagestudent03 @bakugouswh0r3 @mattefic @mxcheese @bietchz @nativity-in-black @tlclick73 @stezzil @vngelis @coley0823 @folklorebau @luvmunson86 @theherothesavior @keene200213 @hargrovesswifee @m-chmcl-rmnc @cherrymedicine13 @iunaelumen777

taglist is now closed.

#twenty four hours #my writing #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #very terrified because i feel like expectations are so high #please be kind i'm gonna have a PANIC ATTACK #i didn't read this back :) if you see mistakes don't @ me #let's hope for the best smut is between yall and god

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kikokus · 8 months ago

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Lucci and Kaku: An Analysis

I haven’t done long analysis/meta/essay-style posts in a while, but after seeing a comment that amounted to “every time Lucci’s shown an interest in something that doesn’t have to do with killing, Kaku’s involved” it made me think about whether or not that's true and, more specifically, whether or not there’s been sufficient build-up to justify what happens in Chapter 1111.

So let’s explore, shall we?

First of all, basic disclaimer that I’ve been heavily into One Piece since 2008 and Water 7 has been my favorite arc since the first time I read it that summer. Kaku, in turn, has always been one of my top characters in the entire series for various reasons…but this isn’t about him (at least, not entirely), so all of that is just to say that I’ve thought about these characters a lot over the years.

And I think what always struck me about them is that not only are they so fundamentally different, but that realistically Lucci should not tolerate Kaku at all. He’s pretty much everything Lucci’s not, and they’re more-or-less a perfect example of the ‘someone will die…of fun!’ meme in a lot of ways (and honestly it’s what I think of every time I see this card, but I digress):

At the same time, what happened in the latest chapter didn’t surprise me, because there’s been hints all along, and I’ve personally been waiting years for it to pay off…even though part of me thought it never would, or at least not in the way it did!

Still, how did we get here?

But First, A Bit About 相棒

So. Why is the fact that Lucci calls Kaku his “相棒” (aibou) so significant? Mostly because of the…individualistic meaning of the word. It literally translates to ‘partner’, but not in a romantic/life-partner way (not to say that it has never been used like that, but it’s not the inherent meaning of the word).

Unlike words such as 友人 (yuujin), 友達 (tomodachi), and of course, with Luffy, 仲間 (nakama), aibou generally only refers to one person. You can have many friends, teammates, crew members…but only one aibou. So by calling Kaku that, Lucci’s already placing him on a different level to anyone else in CP9 or CP0 and acknowledging openly that Kaku’s important enough to him to have earned that distinction.

Which is why a lot of us were very excited about it, since this is not a common occurrence where Lucci’s concerned.

That aside, let’s get to the actual canon content.

Water 7

Obviously at the beginning we find out they both work at the shipyard, but that in and of itself isn’t entirely significant…until you consider that, since Kalifa is pretty much with Iceburg all the time and Blueno’s running the bar, the two of them are working in much closer proximity to each other than to the other CP9 members in the city.

The first real indication we get regarding their comfort level with each other comes in chapter 327 when Kaku gets back from examining the Merry and goes to sit down to explain what he’s discovered. Paulie’s the closest to him, but he actually ends up stepping past both him and Lucci in order to sit directly beside Lucci on the same level.

It’s quite a while before we see the two of them alone again, and it doesn’t happen until chapter 339 when they’re speaking with Robin. Of course at the time we’re not supposed to know it’s them, but there’s really nobody else it can be since this is happening at the exact same time that Blueno’s talking with Franky and Kokoro at the bar. So, as will become fairly common, the two of them are again acting as a unit of their own within the larger group.

And then, of course, we get the infiltration of the mansion prior to The Big Reveal (which I’ve spoken about before because for me it’s still the single greatest reveal in the entire manga because of how carefully crafted it is, right down to Kaku’s limited dialogue in this section being completely devoid of his usual speech quirks in the original Japanese text). Once again, Blueno and Kalifa are doing their own things while these two are working together.

This panel has always been interesting to me because immediately prior to this Lucci says he can’t let Paulie live, and then he decides to just restrain him instead. In Luffy’s case it makes sense because they gave their word to Robin not to harm the Strawhats, but he has absolutely no reason to spare Paulie, and the little lines of shock/surprise beside Kaku imply that he hadn’t expected Lucci to do that, either. The ‘why’ is still unclear, but it’s interesting nonetheless, and it’s also…noteworthy that it’s the only thing Lucci asks Kaku to do. All of the actual damage Paulie takes comes from Lucci and he never asks for or expects Kaku to harm him.

I never connected these two panels before but it’s obviously very deliberate to have Lucci telling Iceburg that feeling emotions is a sign of humanity followed immediately by Kaku…demonstrating exactly that and thanking Iceburg. It’s important to establish that part of Kaku’s character, but keep in mind Lucci’s lack of a reaction here because it’ll come back later.

Again, very tiny moment, but there’s a lot of examples of Lucci deferring to Kaku or letting him take the lead without any hesitation, and I like this because Kaku’s noticed something that Lucci hasn’t and Lucci just goes with it immediately.

I’d forgotten about this but Kaku’s also the one that decides to take Usopp with them, first by recognizing him as one of the Strawhats and then going through with it even after finding out he doesn’t consider himself a part of them anymore. And Lucci just…stands back and lets him give out orders to the others while doing so.

Okay so this is what I was referencing earlier. Kaku shows actual emotions with Iceburg and Lucci’s silent, but the moment Kalifa gets even slightly happy about completing the mission he’s berating her instantly. Kaku’s expression here is interesting too because he looks absolutely haunted and it’s very telling.

And also another visual representation of Lucci and Kaku being equal to/on the same level as each other.

I didn’t include the panel but Kaku was ‘sleeping’ when Corgi was giving them all of the information about Nero while Lucci was (seemingly) wide awake, and yet Lucci has no idea who he is and relies on Kaku to have all the information. Which he does.

Kaku being the one to take charge again and direct the others even though Lucci’s standing right there. They do this more than I’d realized at first, especially since Lucci always seems to be looked at as the unofficial ‘leader’ of CP9.

Enies Lobby

We’ve made it to Enies Lobby, which is the first glimpse we get of these two interacting with the full CP9 group outside of any sort of ‘mission’ environment.

Mostly it entails Lucci being more combative (especially with Jabra) and Kaku being more annoyed, but again I can’t really imagine anyone else taking this tone with Lucci and getting away with it while Kaku does it fairly often and Lucci never retorts or gets angry with him.

And while Kaku’s not immune to taking Jabra’s bait in the right circumstances, his typical tendency is to de-escalate situations if he can and here he’s refusing to engage despite being deliberately called out…and Lucci, without being asked, immediately takes his side and defends his choice.

This is practically the next panel and while both Lucci and Jabra are kind of equally at fault for this little display, Kaku only berates Jabra for it while Kalifa’s directing her comments at both of them.

Now that I’m actually looking for these sorts of things it’s becoming more obvious, but again we have Lucci and Kaku in an equal position to each other at the front of CP9.

This isn’t just to Kaku since Kalifa’s there as well, but Lucci’s still encouraging them to eat the fruits and I have to believe it’s coming from a place of good faith because he’d know whether or not being able to swim is that big an issue in their profession. I also want to note that Kaku echoes Lucci’s ‘it’ll be fun’ line when he actually does eat his fruit, so obviously that resonated with him.

I’ve put these two together because they both highlight the same thing, that being in both of these sequences we get almost all of CP9 giving out their individual thoughts/comments on what’s happening but Kaku’s statement both times is a direct reply to what Lucci says, so again the two of them are paired off in a way that doesn’t include anyone else there.

The only other thing of note in this section is that while Robin’s talking about what happened during the Buster Call on Ohara, Kaku and Lucci are the only CP9 members to kind of…break formation and actually look at her while she’s speaking, which is interesting.

And for the rest of Enies Lobby they aren’t together so there’s not too much more to say here other than Kaku of course being the one to have the actual key to Robin’s cuffs, but it’s never made explicit who came up with that plan or handed out the keys so…if I ever actually do the thing and write a full analysis of Kaku’s character we can talk about it then Lark you’ve been saying you’ll do this for years IF I EVER--

Interlude - CP9’s Independent Report

Besides the fact that this is still one of my favorite cover stories, there’s a couple of noteworthy things here, the first of which is that Kaku again is taking the lead. Even though he’s the only other CP9 member other than Lucci to be injured badly enough that he can’t walk on his own, he’s still the one directing them where to go.

Other than that, I love seeing all of them just…interacting like friends and being very relaxed and casual, and pretty much every panel where Kaku and Lucci are together they’re directly beside each other so I’ve included a bunch of those here.

Dressrosa & Egghead

The next time we see Lucci and Kaku is at the end of Dressrosa, where they’ve been promoted to CP0 Oda can we please get some explanation of how this happened and let me tell you, I remember this vividly because the spoilers at the time just said that Lucci was talking to ‘someone’ and when the raws came out you can bet I went right to the dialogue to see if it was Kaku because his way of speaking is so telling.

But even in this little scene, we can see they’re having an equal conversation and there’s a major difference between how Lucci’s speaking with Kaku and how he addresses Spandam mere seconds later.

After this we have the Reverie/Levely/what-even-is-this-thing-called arc where they get all of a single panel together and while it’s the first time we actually ‘see’ Kaku after the time-skip, nothing really interesting regarding their relationship happens, so let’s move on to…

The end of the colored manga! And Egghead.

We start with a very familiar situation: Lucci asking Kaku what’s going on, and while Kaku this entire arc seems more outwardly annoyed with Lucci than he ever was in the past (which is never really explained but then again, Lucci spends a lot of the arc doing things he’s specifically been told not to do, so maybe it’s understandable…), he still has all the information and relays it.

Though Kaku’s also much more comfortable letting his real personality show despite them being on a mission while before he was always completely serious after the Water 7 reveal, especially around Lucci. It came through with Zoro and Jabra but during the cover story he’s smiling and laughing a lot with Lucci right there so it makes sense he’d be more willing to let his guard down even ‘on the job’ by now.

So here’s the first real instance of Lucci showing concern for Kaku, something which escalates pretty quickly throughout the arc. It’s subtle, and though he’s framing it as a suggestion to Stussy, if he didn’t care at all he wouldn’t have said anything.

At this point it’s fairly obvious that Lucci and Kaku don’t really have any authority difference between them and Kaku spends a lot of time in this chapter especially telling Lucci to Not Do The Thing. Anyone that’s ever lived with a cat knows how well this works.

I’ve always found this bit of dialogue particularly interesting because Kaku’s very openly…praising Sentomaru for choosing his loyalty to Vegapunk over assisting the government, and there’s no way Lucci doesn’t hear him say this but he doesn’t say anything in return. There’s no real evidence that Lucci knows about Kaku willingly giving up the key to Zoro or how conflicted he was about Paulie and everyone else, but this seems to imply that at the very least, even if he doesn’t share those sentiments, he wouldn’t think less of Kaku because of it.

Putting these two together since they’re in the same scene but at this point it’s not even subtle concern anymore, Lucci’s genuinely worried for Kaku and you can tell this caught him off-guard.

Kaku’s the first one to suggest working together but Lucci immediately backs him up and goes with the idea. It’s logical in the sense that it’ll give them the biggest chance to survive, but willingly working with pirates isn’t exactly the sort of thing that Lucci, especially in the past, would have so easily done regardless of the situation.

So at this point it’s becoming clear that this whole 4-v-2 section is supposed to be the most…light-hearted thing going on right now and a lot of it is played to be comedic, including Lucci’s inability to lie, but yet again there’s almost nobody else that could get away with scolding him the way Kaku’s doing here.

…And then we skip ahead a day and things happen that I really hope get explained at some point because they seem important, but while Lucci’s never going to have impeccable bedside manner, he’s very concerned with getting Kaku to rest and while Kaku’s trying to justify what happened Lucci really doesn’t seem to care about that. It’s a big departure from him being willing to write off anyone he deems ‘too weak’ and it’s a nice character moment.

I’d mentioned on my liveblog that some of the things Lucci was doing after this point were confusing, but if you look at them through the lens of him wanting to protect Kaku, it makes a lot more sense. Yes, he’s deliberately keeping him out of the loop, but Lucci I think has decided that he’s going to throw caution to the wind and act alone since if Kaku can’t prove he knew about the plan, he’s probably safer being left with the Strawhats, and if the Marines show up he should be safe anyway or so Lucci thinks…

When this chapter came out, I’d said something about Lucci being a hypocrite considering what the rest of CP9 did for him when they could have easily just left him at Enies Lobby, but given what happens almost directly after and likely what he’s trying to do with this entire fight, these words feel even less genuine…

And that brings us to this. The moment that I’ve been thinking about for almost an entire week now. The moment that, looking back at…oh, wow…almost 3000 words of analysis maybe shouldn’t be as surprising as it was for most of us, but it does feel like the payoff for a long, long buildup that’s taken nearly twenty years to reach. Because really, there’s no other way to describe them other than ‘partners’, and probably hasn’t been for a long time…and I’m so glad that Lucci acknowledged it.

To summarize, I think what surprised me most about re-visiting all of this is how much the manga has framed them as equals since the beginning even though it was never explicitly stated between the characters themselves. Lucci’s always been far more lenient with Kaku than with anyone else, and Kaku in turn has never had any fear of Lucci even if he wasn’t really expressing his true self with him for a long time.

The cover story being the turning point makes perfect sense, and the progression throughout Egghead of Lucci being more outwardly willing to show his concern and Kaku not hiding his emotions at all seems like a natural progression of their relationship and their level of comfort around each other.

And the fact that Oda is never really…hitting us over the head with any of it until that final moment when Lucci says everything so plainly because Kaku’s life is the most important thing to him even when faced with a literal monster… It’s so effective.

I don’t know where we go from here. To be honest, I’m kind of scared of where we go from here. But regardless of the outcome, I hope this little essay has been at the very least interesting and perhaps allowed you to look at these two in a different light.

Thanks for reading.

#one piece #opspoilers #rob lucci #kaku #meta #analysis #i forgot about the 30 photo limit so I had to get creative here but #3k words of me examining their relationship sure happened

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octopotto · 1 year ago

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Brain Rot: TWST Cast with Saitama! Reader

OCTO NOTE: College has been absolutely brutal. These headcanons were worked on bit by bit these past few months :(

I saw some TWST fics that used pre-exsiting characters to based the MC off of and I wanted to try w/ one of my favourite characters.

WARNINGS: NOT PROOF-READ, OOC Behaviour, this is so cringe but very self-indulgent, mc is the most sane person in this universe, you decide if mc is bald or not, yandere if you squint hard enough.

SPOILERS FOR: TWISTED WONDERLAND

**The reader will ALWAYS be Gender-Neutral!

———————————-••———————————

Life at Night Raven College would be much more peaceful if MC had Saitama’s strength lol

Problems would've been solved quicker as well.

At first glance, you don’t seem to be a threat.

To most, you look like a regular, magic-less human on the outside.

And that’s what makes you so dangerous.

Don’t fuck around and overblot unless you have a death wish.

The Overblot crew definitely had one when MC swung their fist at them.

The whole prologue would be shortened.

Fun fact: You accidentally put too much force on the coffin door to get out, thus smashing Grim in the process while he was prying it open :D

Grim, the Ramshackle ghost, and Crowley were the first group to witness your impressive strength.

And by impressive, they mean terrifying.

To Crowley and Grim at least.

The ghost were shocked but very much amused after a couple moments.

God knows how the Ramshackle Dorm was still in one piece after that.

Grim is very happy to have a strong minion to protect him

Just don’t hurt him like you did with the ghost pls. And the door lol

Crowley would be most likely absolutely be afraid and made a mental note to keep track of you.

Especially since you were almost successful to killing him in his ghost form. He’s making sure that Ramshackle gets fixed quicker.

Crowley: “Great Sevens… How do they have such monstrous strength... This stowaway is just a magicaless human! My…what have I gotten myself into?? *sobs* OH IF I WASN’T SUCH A KIND AND GENEROUS SOUL I WOULD NOT LET THIS TYPE OF BEHAVIOUR BE PRESENT ON MY CAMPUS” *more obnoxious sobbing*

You and Grim: 😶😐????

Despite scaring and almost killing the shit out of the Headmaster, you still start off as a janitor lol.

Fast forward to the Mine Incident with Ace, Deuce, and Grim—

You basically massacred that monster.

A monster that probably injured many Mages and Wizards

You destroyed it in one punch.

On that day, Ace reminded himself to never piss you off again. Ever.

He loves cherry pie, but would rather not become the filling itself, thanks.

Deuce probably was gawking at you after the shock.

Not in a bad way

But in a good way y'know?

But he’s too shy to ask for advice for now.

This is basically the start of Deuce idolizing you and your strength.

Brain Rot:

Ace, Deuce and Grim are your self-proclaimed bodyguards.

At least THEY like to think that they are.

Listen, they know that you are MORE THE CAPABLE protecting yourself in fights or in any physical confrontations.

But that’s it.

You’re basically shit at everything else.

From completing your assignments to even showing up to class, it seems like in the trio's eyes that you NEED THEM to take care of you. You all are like family now!

So they all make an effort to help you out when you need it.

No really, if you keep forgetting to submit that one potion essay that Crewel keeps smacking your shiny ass head to complete, you’re going to get left behind.

They’re more like secretaries than bodyguards lol.

The post-overblot Spelldrive tournament was an absolute nightmare.

Well, at least for everyone but Ace, Deuce, and Grim.

They were GLOATING about how they were in the lead and challenged anyone to try and top them like the smug, over-confident assholes they are.

The only reason why they were in the lead was because of you. Simple as that.

The Savannaclaw gang put up a good fight

For the first 10 minutes in the match.

All Leona could do at that moment was strategize how not to get his and his teammate’s heads chopped off by the disc you kept throwing at them.

You are quite fond of Ruggie

More specifically: you were fond of Ruggie’s haggling skills.

If were had a choice to trade your god-like strength for his haggling skills and techniques, you wouldn’t hesitate one bit.

And y’know it wouldn’t be Ruggie if he didn’t take advantage of this. He would offer you advice and tell you if theres a huge sale going on at a near-by grocery store if you promise to lend him a hand whenever he needed it.

You were so tempted to say no

Not because he was shady and overall untrustworthy

You’re just lazy

This is his way to spend more time with you but he would never admit that out-loud.

If your MC is bald, instead of Floyd squeezing you, he will smack and ‘dribble’ your head as if it was basketball.

Jamil and Ace especially are amused.

God forbid you ever get a bad tan on the top of your scalp

You will NEVER hear to end of it.

Floyd also is your biggest bully.

jk but not really

Yeah he knows that you could probably kill him with a gentle tap

But when did that ever stop him?

He mainly does it because he wants to see your reactions

You’re so plain looking and your nonchalant voice and facial expressions do not help as well.

But remember only Floyd HIMSELF can do those things to you, okay? Only him.

If he ever finds out that some random NPC student was doing the same thing to you, You’re going to be finding that NPC tossed in a corner somewhere with almost all their joints mangled.

You like how generous Kalim is.

You probably helped him fan the fire off his ass in the ceremony

He’s was incredibly thankful and was able to remember what you looked like.

I mean, you literally saved him!

How could he not remember you?

You don't remember him but let’s not go there lol

Because you saved Kalim from being cooked, he always makes sure that you had enough food for the month!

He would practically beg, like BEG Jamil to make extras so you won’t go hungry.

Especially after experiencing what type of living conditions you were dealing with in Book 5.

Poor Jamil, not only is he working overtime for Kalim, but technically serving food for the person who ruined his plans back in Book 4.

Jamil packing food for you by Kalim’s request: 😡😡😡

totally did not try to poison your food on several occasions

Kalim also begs Jamil to let him deliver the food to you.

He can’t help it! He really enjoys seeing you happy when you receive something from him and Jamil.

You never complain about.

Free food = Saving money.

I mean, if you're being gifted something, why be rude and deny it?

Some students say that you were taking advantage of Kalim because of how easily you accept his gifts without anything in return.

And y'know they could be right

But Kalim doesn't mind.

As long as you're happy, he's happy :)

In Vil’s eyes, you are an enigma.

It’s like he can’t wrap his pretty little head around on how he feels about you.

On one hand, other than your god-like strength, you’re nothing special. When he first saw you he only disregarded you as another potato that’s not worth his precious time and effort on.

But on the other hand, Vil sees you as a blank slate. Something that ASKING for him to put his smooth and perfectly manicured fingers on. Someone that needs his guidance and skills.

He doesn’t care if you’re bald or have hair, it doesn’t derail him from the fact that despite you sticking out like a sore-thumb, you’re still so…plain looking.

You probably said some off-hand comment about how ‘Beauty is in the eye of the beholder’ to Vil and just walked off.

It might not meant anything to you

But it meant a lot to Vil.

When it came to the overblots and eventually Book 5, he felt as though he was in a spiral of questions that he himself must find the answers for.

And what were the questions that caused Vil’s current state of disarray about? You obviously.

He’s going mad

He can’t stand it.

You said that beauty is in the eye of the holder? Fine then.

He knows that he could do something for you.

Something marvellous, something beautiful.

For you and himself.

You had a new nickname for Malleus every time you guys end up running into eachother.

Malleus would always look forward to meeting you solely for the nicknames.

I believe that Saitama genuinely does not care enough to remember other people’s names that much

So that will be a trait for MC in this.

Malleus probably thinks this is a way humans show affection to each other.

In reality, you cannot for the life of you remember that weirdo's name.

Malleus: *Appears out of thin air in front of the MC*

Malleus: Greetings, Child of Man *smiles*

MC Thinking: ‘Why does this rando keep coming back? What was his name again?’

Malleus: *Anticipating their response with excitement*

MC: Uhhhh..

MC: Wassup…Horton? :D

Malleus: *Smiles at his new nickname*

It took a while for you to come up with a permanent nickname for him but he doesn't mind

In his eyes, it's your way of showing him how much you wanted to become closer companions.

Jack and Epel are always on your ass about “How to become stronger” and when you actually tell them the routine that you did at the beginning of your journey, they literally fell in disbelief.

They couldn’t believe it.

It was basically a simple workout routine

Both still believe that you’re hiding the secret of how you got to your level of strength.

Thus, joint workouts became also a thing within the NRC Campus and you are the leader.

Not by choice however.

Jack, Epel, and everyone else involved were really curious as to how you train.

I mean, look at what you can do! And you’re not even a Mage!

The first meeting was terrible due to the fact you almost obliterated the school.

One flick and the gym could’ve been in shambles.

That’s why Jack and Epel made sure to do it somewhere far and secluded.

And even then, you still created a lot of damage with minimal effort.

It’s incredible to those who look up to you.

Throughout the story, you gained some admiration and recognition along the way.

From Heartslaybul to Diasomnia, you unknowingly grab the admiration of those who either want to become stronger or see you as a hero.

Some might say that they see you as the messiah who was sent to protect the school.

But let’s not go that far.

You wouldn’t notice anyways

In your eyes they're all a bunch of weirdos.

———————————-••———————————

OCTO NOTE: Hopefully you guys enjoyed these very terrible brain-rot headcanons. I always found Saitama’s character interesting so I wanted to try out something new.

Again, I’ve been very busy so I can’t promise anything BUT I can say that there will be more Yandere FF7 fics coming soon! ;)

Thank you to everyone who enjoys my low-quality works! Hope you look forward to my new ones ❤️❤️

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tiredsmashbros · 12 days ago

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY NEO !!!!

all what blud is pondering + yapping bout smh @neo91502 🍔💛

credits to nxva on the tsmg4 fanart LMAO

this is my bday gift to the blue canine with wings nothing crazy underneath nooooo nope nope nopity nope :) shhhh

and now for my essay speech bc that's becoming my trademark now other than being comic ceo of smg34 apparently LMAO

neo, you already got my lil emotional yap thru dms bout ur "loyal lettuce" role, but ong i'm boutta give another sappy essay for you to use ur big pikmin brain to read: once again, thank you, for wanting to talk to me, hang out with me, and just yap about shared interests. it takes a lot for me to open my shell due to past experiences with folks its hard to even open myself to making friends at times,,, yet never did i expect anyone to know or like EPIC: the musical as much as i did nor even WANT to go forth the idea of a smg4 au for fun. i'll admit i was very nervous being invited to the private dms to yap bout it and a part of me from bad habits wanted to run away, but your understanding and providing ways to help so i didn't feel excluded made me feel so relieved and welcomed. as i already told you, it's been a VERY long time i got to really yap my love for musicals in this way in depth and getting to know even more folks from that outburst {lookin at you knightmare and lore 💛} has genuinely made me so much happy. i love musicals in a very deep level and finally getting that opportunity to talk to others just has been the greatest ever /gen /srs.

other than musicals, FINALLY i have met someone who loves isaacwhy too hELLO????? like i've gotten very few people irl to show them clips but none have either really stuck into watching or liking them as much as me. so getting that opportunity to watch LTLVC with you and nova was SO FUN {despite my stream quality was laggy and slow} i enjoyed it so much and finally i can reference the jokes so much BC GOD I USED TO DO THEM SM IRL U HAVE NO IDEA HAHAHAHHAHAH TYUFGHEDCSXYUIGJHEFDC

another big factor was just being so surprised and shock you had a fursona!!! neo!!!! it just made me so happy GENUINELY bringing me back to my furry home adobe and knowing the fact i could draw other's fursonas and even my own and being welcomed about that idea just made me explode /pos. even more when i got to watch you DRAW TOMMY.... like at that point i finally got over my fear and confidently pressed that follow.

you are such an awesome guy neo. you're really fun to yap with and never once had i had any second doubts other than being afraid i would embarrass myself ITYGJHFCDSX i still remember almost vividly the first time we aCTUALLY talked when i was doing thumbnail sketches of my final comic assignment, with the "typer" joke YOU CHOCKED FROM LAUGHTER HAHAHAY89IUTGYFUEHJDSX TO THE NEXT DAY ANDER AND I TALKED BOUT IT AGAIN HAHAHAHA still one of my fav vc's ever. thank you so much for being a fan, joining my server, and joining vc to us being friends. you mean so much to me, thank you for being your silly self, i srsly look forward to yapping to you every day.

and good gOD i will continue that binge on getting into the pikmin lore TRUST..... 💛🍔

BTW, THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO ATTENDED NEO'S BIRTHDAY PARTY EVENT IN THE TSB SERVER !!!! whether it was just for a bit or the whole event, THANK YOU. /gen

i don't plan on doing much birthday vc events unfortunately, but i def wanted to do one {and using neo as a guinea pig once again} since this silly man had impacted me so much i wanted to give him the best bday he could have. even if it got really chaotic several times YOU GUYS ARE CRAZY OH MY FUKIN GOD HAHAHHAHAA and no im not sorry for being absent the first 40 mins my stephen king fixiation is a priority /j

#tsb official #neo #smg4 #smg4 oc #happy birthday #birthday #birthday post #smg4 smg3 #smg3 #smg3 plush

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verdemoun · 3 months ago

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Fun fact, Kieran may have been originally supposed to live longer, at least judging by his many unused voice lines (found on YouTube) and a longer hairstyle which I actually think looks better for him (found on rdr wiki of cut content). Maybe he was supposed to go to Guarma? The voice lines to me suggested going on hunting missions with him but I’m not too sure.

spoilers. obviously

fun fact i have listened to the 2+ hours of Kieran's cut voice lines so many times even my housemates know it and groan when they walk in and i'm listening to it. Did you know one of his cut voice lines for a near miss in a shootout is 'whoo, nearly took my head off!' to foreshadow his eventual demise? And he has several variations of lines telling Arthur to rest with the gentlest tone suggesting he would have been one of the few characters to show concern for Arthur's illness in later chapters? And slightly less relevant but there is a cut interaction in where he asks Jack to sneak him some food only for Arthur to threaten to kill him BUT CALLING HIMSELF UNCLE KIERAN???

screenshots by cad5150

About Guarma, all but confirmed. Here is one of his cut outfits, which I think very obviously suits the vibe of what most of the gang wore in Guarma like compare it to Micah's Guarma outfit in particular. Additionally he has this hood as an outfit accessory: some people think it was intended that when he rides into camp Horsemen Apocalypse there's a moment of the hood being taken off and then the characters having a much more visceral reaction to his eyes being gauged out but personally I think it makes way more sense that he was meant to be in Banking, the Old American Art 'replacing' Sean as an extra gun. Which would have been really cool because I would have loved a conversation where they bring up they're a gun short and it spiral into more reflection on how they're not just a gun short, they're a man down, they lost the 'joy in their lives' Sean Macguire and they were still hurting instead of just NEVER MENTIONING HIM AGAIN other than a few rare character lines.

Side tangent also his scarf is different in his guarma outfit which is it's own essay because if you're going off the blue high honor red low honor theory this so strong implies we could have seen some really cool character development. looking at what the gang were wearing in banking and then in guarma there's no obvious explanation as to where he got it. how cute would it have been if we got a scene where mary-beth gifted him a scarf?? but the also terrifying implication that we might see kieran become less high honour good boy blorbo to someone a bit more morally ambiguous?

I think the question really is how he would have fit in in Guarma, which of course we will never know and considering how much cut content there is about Guarma. Like everyone else in Guarma makes sense: Dutch's descent into immorality being so clear even Arthur questions it, Bill being the one trusted to look after Javier following his rescue, supporting their friendship in rdr1, Micah reaffirming his position as an actual piece of shit in his lines responding to Hosea and Lenny's deaths and complete lack of empathy. Maybe a kieran who is slightly more ruthless and active in shootouts in guarma but also shows compassion for arthur as arthur gets sick? Maybe the attack on Hanging Dog Ranch was meant to be more a revenge for Kieran's death assuming he was taken and killed similarly to his death in chapter 4 (given how much much foreshadowing there is for his death), but just another misery in chapter 6 that hits harder because we have more time to grow attached and see him develop?

Except. Except then we get to cut outfit kieran.

first. hellooooo sailor. but who is this man. who is this man who looks older. and wears a very, very low honour red scarf. and is obviously dressed still as an outlaw, and didn't go live a happy life with mary-beth. is it. is it possible. kieran was not always meant to be doomed by the narrative??

is it possible we would have seen kieran become more loyal to dutch and micah, true to his army abandoning, gang jumping, choosing to ride with the o'driscolls rather than die, immediately 'loyal' to the vdls despite torture because being alone meant certain death, coward nature? or would he have just been a character john could encounter in the epilogue? perhaps shaken by knowing arthur, as one of his very, very few friends, died trying to be a better person and abandoned any effort to be more than an outlaw?

but. but kieran. shirt all buttoned up. scarf on. thick coat. hair slightly feral and wild. why does it looked like you're all dressed up for the cold, buddy? like- like you might have been hiding out up mount hagen.

#kieran duffy #my blorbo my love my whole heart #rdr2 spoilers

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twistedlily · 4 months ago

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Crackpot Theory: Five and Viktor are the Beginning and End to Everything

A friend told me months ago to write an essay after hearing my crackpot theory about this show that is my Joker, so here I am, doing just what I was told. (Yes, I know this won't come true. That's why it's a crackpot theory. I'm only writing this for fun and to get this idea out of my head before S4 drops tomorrow. Anyway!)

Disclaimer: I will be using Vanya and she/her pronouns to refer to the comics character, and to the show character in S1 and S2, and Viktor and he/him pronouns for S3. I am doing this for the sake of more easily understanding which seasons in the show I am referring to when I mention my points.

Anyway, without further ado...

I am putting too much faith in the show's writing here and am convinced that the show is hinting that Five and Vanya/Viktor are the key to everything.

Here is why:

In S1, we see quite clearly that Five meant something to Vanya. She tells Pogo in the first episode that "You know what's stupid? I used to leave the lights on for him. ... Every night I'd leave a little snack and make sure the lights were on." Following that, we also see Five return, looking exactly the way he did when he left, and one of the first things he does is make himself a peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich, which is the very snack that Vanya would continually make for him when he was gone.

Later on in the episode, we see him get attacked by the Temps Commission, and after said attack, the place he goes to for safety is—Vanya’s apartment. There, we get to see her patching him up, get to see them talk and in turn have a better understanding of their particular dynamic. Vanya asks him why he’s at her apartment. He says, “I’ve decided you’re the only one I can trust.” She asks him why he’s opening up to her specifically, and at first, he says, “Because you’re ordinary.” Of course, those words sting with her, and it shows on her face. So he amends his statement shortly thereafter, with a “Because you’ll listen.” The show quickly establishes that Vanya found Five important in her life, and in turn, affirms that he finds her meaningful as well.

Unfortunately, as the first season continues, we don’t get Five and Vanya interacting together as much, if at all. The second episode features Vanya managing to briefly stop Five in his tracks after he declares she’s too young and he made a mistake in trusting her, saying she “hasn’t seen him in a long time” and that she “doesn’t want to lose [him] again.” But then he leaves her apartment, and he makes little to no effort to contact her for the rest of the first season until it becomes apparent that she is far more important to the end of the world than he initially believed.

However, we do see more of their intriguing bond in the moments we’re shown of their shared past and younger years, with how Vanya shaking her head gave him genuine pause before Five’s impulsive decision to leave and perform spatial jumps in defiance of Hargreeves. Additionally, her name was the first Five called after landing in the apocalypse, and as we are made aware in the first episode, he found her book and read it while away. In said book, she writes that he "was [her] sole confidante." He even writes in the book, and continues to do so upon returning to 2019.

(A little note on something I found fascinating that may be something, or may be nothing: when drunk, Five tells Diego that he’s “the Four frickin’ Horsemen.” Traditionally, the Four Horsemen signify the bringing of the Apocalypse to the world, hence the tale of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Now, in the show, if Five is the Four Horsemen, and Vanya is the Apocalypse... does that not mean they’re inextricably connected?

Again, this could mean something, or it could be me seeing things where things were not meant to be seen.)

I will also note that their bond in the show does not, in fact, come from the comics. The comics feature a Vanya who is emotionally linked to Diego, and the Five we see in the comics is far colder than the one in the show. He even tells Vanya outright at the end of the Apocalypse Suite arc that he “never liked [her].” So this shift in relationship dynamics does exist purely in the show, which I personally find works in its favour due to its character-driven nature.

Anyway, let us move onto S2 and how it too shows their bond, and we start off with Five insisting that Elliot search for sound waves as he tries to prevent a second apocalypse via the Cold War, given Vanya’s sound manipulation power. Does that explicitly show their bond at all? Granted, no, but what happens later on when Five manages to find Vanya does—he finds her in a cornfield and gives her a rather soft smile as he introduces himself as her brother. He then proceeds to inform her (over a cup of coffee) of what happened in S1, but notably pauses and swallows when she asks what caused the apocalypse. He then states, “Asteroid impact,” and omits her role entirely, because he cares enough to not want to hurt her, which exists in contrast to how he acts around every other member of their so-called family, i.e. constantly insulting them and threatening to harm them.

This is also seen in how Five firmly insists they "need to stick together," and how he would, most likely, blink into the car when Vanya plans to drive away from him if it were anyone else, but instead takes a breath and knocks on the window to get her attention. It may be because she’s a bomb that he doesn’t want to set off, but given his behaviour around her even in S1 before she’s revealed to have powers, we get to know that he is and always has been patient with her, and impatient with everyone else. He even mumbles to himself later on about how "she'll come around. I know she will."

Also noteworthy is how his old body self learns from Luther that Vanya is the reason for the apocalypse, and in response to this news, all he does is shrug and say, “Fair enough.” It is remarkable how the very thing that he obsessed over for decades upon decades in the apocalypse is set aside with a simple acknowledgement of its cause being his closest adopted sibling.

(Another thing that I find most intriguing is how in the comics, Five’s calculations to return to his timeline and escape the apocalypse are not, in fact, bungled when he finally attempts to jump again. He realises through Dolores that he “forgot to subtract the two from the one” and only fails in his goal when the Temps Aeternalis pulls him out of the time stream against his will. In contrast, the show has Five arguing with his old body self, and the apparent solution to his calculations is a misplaced decimal point—“It’s 0.57, not 5.7!” which may be me reading into it too much, again, but if not, then an argument can be made that Five and Vanya (Number Seven) are meant to work together and stay together, instead of being placed apart due to circumstances beyond their control.)

Moving onto S3, there is the same issue as present in S1 wherein Five and Viktor rarely get to talk to one another. The only instances of their relationship coming into play are when Five runs back to ensure Vanya/Viktor is okay when they’re being attacked by the Sparrows, the easy acceptance of Viktor changing his name and beginning to transition, and of course, the talk they have near the end of the season. The talk in which Five is caring and vulnerable enough in his lecturing about powerful people and ants to tell Viktor, “If you ever need anything, I’m always here for you. But lie to us again... Viktor, I’ll kill you myself.”

There is, too, the fact that they share a long look at the end of the season before walking off in different directions, yet again separated instead of going off together.

The trailer for S4 revealed that this time, Ben is the cause of the end of the world, and it seems the show is gearing up to explore the Jennifer Incident and Ben’s death in detail (which, alongside the Sparrow Academy, the comics have yet to touch upon fully). While I am aware this show emphasizes that this so-called family is stronger together than apart, and I don’t mean to undermine their marketing with this essay, I do find this message does not yet work unless every member of the Academy is willing to work together and stay connected. Obviously, this includes Five and Viktor especially, seeing as Five set out to save the world from the apocalypse at the beginning of the show, and Viktor was the cause then and continues to cause problems for everyone.

In conclusion, I (most likely falsely) believe that the show is pointing at a resolution for its “oh no the world is ending” plot that torments each season via the full reconciliation of Five and Vanya/Viktor’s bond and that ultimately, these two teaming up and properly communicating with each other will be the way to get to a timeline where the world doesn’t end for once and happy lives can be had for all.

If you’ve read all of this, I thank you for sitting through it. If you disagree with it, that's totally fair, and I welcome you to keep scrolling and ignore this post entirely.

#tua #tua s4 #the umbrella academy #number five #vanya hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #fiveya #fiktor #tv: the umbrella academy #five hargreeves | number five #vanya hargreeves | number seven #vanya/viktor hargreeves | number seven #mine

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bao3bei4 · 1 year ago

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why zines? how zines?

i was on a panel at fanworks con 2023 about zines today. it was a lot of fun! i decided to turn my portion of the talk into a post for my friends who couldn’t make it to the panel.

this post includes my thoughts on:

why make a zine

how to generate ideas for zines

how to finish your zines

how to build an audience for your zines

so why zines? what are they? [ZEENS, rhymes with beans], pronounced that way because it’s a shortened form of the word magazine, are basically just that: self published magazines. but why make a zine over, say, a blog post? or any other piece of art.

i have basically three reasons. the first is that making little books is cool. it’s genuinely awesome to make physical zines and have the product of your labor in your hand. it’s a great feeling to finish a project and feel a concrete reward, and a lot of times we don’t get that in our lives.

the second reason is that zines give you absolute editorial control. you can put anything you want on a page. whatever layout, whatever order, whatever fold, whatever content. you name it, you can do it. this is something other venues rarely give you. for artists, it’s phenomenal. and for the rest of us, it gives us the ability to become artists for a little bit, as we lay things out.

the third reason is that zines can be absolute shit. in fact, the more shit they are, the more diy and punk they are. they have an incredible lineage of stolen copy paper and anarchist politics. all that to say, is that there are no standards. the zine ethos is say what you wanna say. it’s tremendously freeing to go fuck polish and respectability, i’m making my project.

because of these three reasons, i want to encourage you to get started making zines by describing common challenges and worries and giving you several practical tips for each on working past them. so, in order, they’re “i don’t know what to make a zine about,” “i struggle to finish projects,” and “no one will read my zines.” let’s get into it.

first up, “i don’t know what to make a zine about.” i think this one is pretty common, even for experienced zine creators. sometimes you’re in the mood to make things but you have no clue what. a lot of people suggest to just go with random words or whatever pops into your head, but i’m picky! i find that unsatisfying! so here are some tips for people in the same boat.

ONE: what’s distracting you? work with it. because anything can be a zine, let the things you’ve already done serve as inspiration. photos you’ve taken can be formatted into a zine. is there a game sucking up your attention? make a zine about it. the song stuck in your head can turn into a lyricbook, forgotten works in progress or sketches can be resurrected, cannibalized, or even published as incomplete zines. if you’ve been busy with real life, maybe the recipes you’ve been making—even if, especially if, they’re struggle meals, can turn into zines. interview your most interesting friend. summarize a book you read recently. even if you’ve just been doomscrolling, that’s a zine too! i got a zine last weekend called bay area newsreel which was collecting recent articles about local news from leftist perspectives gathered up into a handy volume. your attention is a gift, so look at what zine fodder it’s accumulated for you naturally.

SECOND: add a twist. sometimes i have an idea but it isn’t quite right. it just seems too straightforward. so i try to develop along a single axis of content or form. what this means is basically go against your instincts, or rather, your first impulse. that first idea is very hard to walk away from, but doing so often gives you an idea that gets you unstuck. so for content, add a different perspective. for me this is often a theoretical approach. when i was stuck on my scum villain zine, turning it into freud zine let the words start flowing. next, on form: present it differently than your first instinct is to. if my first thought is “essay,” i try to figure out how to chunk out the information into modules or how to add interactivity or what kind of illustrations to add. if my first thought is “this could be a fic or comic,” i try turning it into an essay. saying things a different way often gives you a new perspective on the content as well.

THIRD: copy! make your take on the same thing as someone else. it’s not stealing—well, ideally it isn’t. make your original take and give credit where credit is due and ask permission if necessary. but engage with the medium!!! making zines without reading zines is the same thing as trying to write a paper without citing sources, or a novel without reading your contemporaries. that is, you can do it, but it’s hard. zines are a genre into themselves so figure out how to situate yourself in their ongoing dialogue. an example of this from my own practice is that i own a zine about queer gods and mythological creatures from chinese history. reading it i was like. why don’t they talk about this. why don’t they talk about that. and that became the basis for my own zine, guaitai the strange and the queer which focused on queer chinese history and literature instead. different zine, same inspiration.

all of my ideas suppose you have SOMETHING going on. what if you truly have nothing. my advice? adapted from my “how to write an essay” blog post, is to read a book. read an article. read something. and then post about it. and then turn your posts into a zine. don’t start entirely from scratch — give yourself a scaffolding. so first. read something and tell someone about it. i wasn’t lying about calling myself a consummate poster. it’s a big part of my thought process.

second up, what if “i struggle to finish projects.” i’m no stranger to having a bunch of half finished half started projects lying around. but here are some zine-specific tips i have for addressing that.

FIRST! go smaller; go shittier. reduce the scope of your projects. make one pagers, lists. once when i was feeling stymied, i made a physical zine about movies i’d watched that month, just listing them with a couple bullet points on each film. i eventually turned it into a bigger digital zine where i listed movies i’d watched over the past several months with more thoughts on them, and nicely formatted. but that was something that came out of reducing my scope from “i need to write a manifesto on a movie i’ve watched recently” to “well i can just tell people about it” to “i can say two things about it.” and something actually got finished.

SECOND. your friends are a great tool for accountability. something i like to do is zine jams with my friends. nothing fancy, it’s just we’ll sit down for an hour and go we’re going to make something in this hour. or, for a bigger scope, we might work separately but commit to making a zine that weekend. it’s nice to have community and it’s nice to feel a little bit of a friendly deadline. i recommend this even if you DON’T have problems finishing zines. it’s a good time.

THIRD. a lot of times if the words aren’t coming easily, it’s because i’m not trying to say the right thing. keep in mind that your zines don’t have to be “content.” this little paper zine i made about movies wasn’t made to share online; in fact, it’s not available online. i didn’t make it according to what other people would see or be interested in. you can and will burn out on making “marketable” content. corollary to this: sometimes what i have to say is something i DON’T want to share online. it might not be that it’s boring, it might be that it’s too personal. and i share a lot online, i write personal essays after all. but some projects i stall on because they’re really just for me, and i’m again, focused on making content. so this piece of advice is about rejecting the tyranny of the imaginary audience.

and the next challenge is about embracing that audience! what if no one reads your zines, something that’s entirely possible. well there’s plenty you can do about that.

FIRST. cultivate zine community. read other people’s zines! talk to them about their zines! this greatly increases the chance that they will do the same for you. don’t go in expecting reciprocity; do it for its own sake, but it’s a great place to start. try asking people at zine fests if they’d be willing to trade with you, for instance.

SECOND. write for yourself. it’s cheesy but it’s true. you really have to. if you’re not proud and happy with what you’re making on its own merits, what’s the point. now because this is a cop out tip, i’m not counting it as a tip on its own.

so SECOND PART TWO. make your zines more accessible. if they’re not free, make them free—yes, you deserve to be compensated for your work, but it’s up to you to decide if you want a bigger audience first. if your zines aren’t short, make them shorter. make them short enough that you can post their entirety on social media or something else easy for your audience to consume. it’s a big ask sometimes to get someone to download your pdf! if they’re physical, hand them out to people you meet. remove all the barriers to entry.

THIRD. related to this, change medium. if you’re not making physical zines, try printing them out. if you’re not making digital zines, try digitizing them. both of these offer access to new audiences and new people who might be more interested in one form than another.

i hope these thoughts encourage you to make a zine! if you do, please let me see it. i love reading zines.

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