#I'm rambling but ya know

[scrivellc]

Deep in my feels about Alive!Verse Orin and Audrey and their weird potential as exes who have to keep interacting with each other because I've decided Jason still exists in this AU, and Orin wants to be involved in his son's life, and Audrey is tentatively okay with this as long as Orin is kept on a short leash and is not allowed in her home. There's just so much meat there. Also the idea of Orin finally taking time to deal with his shit after almost dying and being dumped for the guy who only decided not to let him die at the last second. He's reading self help books and maybe going to a lil therapy and trying to figure out what kind of a dad he wants to be but also he's not the one who's "dad" to Jason most of the time and he feels more like an uncle to his own kid. And he's reconnecting with some old friends maybe since he knows he really can't rely on Audrey and her family for support since he knows he fucked up bad with her and just hopes to at least come to a truce at some point. And who knows? Maybe eventually he'll be allowed to go in the house but he's on thin ice and Audrey let's him know it which like, totally very fair. But it's a work in progress and they have so much history and a kid so they can never totally divorce themselves from each other even though they both understand they are never going to be a thing again. And Jason is just excited to have twice the amount of dads, one of which is very invested to making sure he sees him as fun and a positive presence.

[ghost-proofbaby]

It's summer for you, winter for me. Warm me up with strawberry fluff! As always, my muse, your muse, the one and only, Eddie.

Midsummer's night, because I don't have a lot to inspire you with. I'm thinking something cute but weird? Maybe some human body softness where Eddie is a bit of a freak and we love him for it. And we're told our bodies are lovely, even when they're doing weird shit.

I lalalove youuuuu. xo Rhi

RHI!!!! <3 i adore you. thank you for this prompt - i had far too many ideas for it, but ended up on settling for this one, which coincidentally feels like the most subtle of them all? either way, it definitely turned out being the softest. give me an eddie munson who just wants to sniff me like a dog. this definitely got a bit long but i hope you enjoy, my dear <3

the smell of you

warnings: weirdos in love? idk. i have a skewed sense of what is actually weird i think. mentions of death and coffins jokingly. eddie 'manhandles' reader sort of. not edited.

wc: 2.2k+

come enjoy a sweet summer treat with me <3

“Eddie?”

The entire apartment is quiet – too quiet – as you drop your keys into the old crystal bowl on the counter. The clink resonates through the air, louder than the soft murmur of the stereo static you can hear from down the hall. 

“You dead?” you call out again, slipping off your running shoes and tossing down your headphones onto the counter as well now, “Do I need to call the coroner?” 

Your tone is lilted, teasing with airiness as you continue to wander deeper into the apartment and head straight for the room you know Eddie has to be in. Like the waves pulled by the moon, there’s an incessant string tied around one end of your soul that connects you to his, and you follow it all the way down the hallway. The bedroom door is wide open, and you can hear his mumbled yell of a response without clarity before you even cross the threshold. 

You wouldn’t have even needed him to verbally respond to find him in this tiny apartment. You two could get separated on the streets of a bustling city, of a buzzing New York sidewalk, and you still wouldn’t properly lose him. It’s more than just soul ties and his gravity that keeps you pulled to him. 

Something unspoken. Something homely. 

“Sorry, what was that?” you hum as you spy him face-down in the bed, pillow muting him by the mouthful, “Say it one more time, and this time not into the pillow.” 

When he finally properly turns over, he’s a vision. Sleep lines folded into his skin and a bit of drool in the corner of his mouth, eyes squinting in irritation not at you but the sunlight flooding in through the bedroom window. Messy hair, messy shirt, messy everything. A kind of mess you just want to collapse into currently, curling up in all that he is from the day’s exhaustion. 

He’d mentioned wanting to take a nap before you’d left for the gym. Something about the summer heat draining him, trailing off as he’d rambled about how he’d probably thrive as a vampire. 

“I said,” he huffs, sitting up, the frizz of his hair becoming a makeshift halo, “If you call the coroner, request the comfiest coffin possible.”

“Why do you need a comfy coffin if you’re already dead?” 

“You dare deny me of being buried in tempurpedic memory foam? In my hour of need?” 

You roll your eyes as you huff out a little laugh, forcing yourself to turn away from him long enough to strip out of your socks. But just as you reach down for the pieces of clothing, you catch sight of the source of that stereo static flooding the room. 

Your shared record player, spinning a blood red pressing of one of your more recent vinyl purchases. The album has been played through, but the player no longer had an automatic stop mechanism, probably from years of use. 

The center of the record is probably scratched, and Eddie knows it, from how sheepish he looks when you glance over your shoulder at him. 

“Speaking of death,” you walk over quickly, purposefully, before carefully lifting the needle and cutting the static finally, “Care to explain why you’re burning scratches into my Momento Mori vinyl?” 

“I’m sorry,” he quickly apologizes, nearly flinging himself off the bed as he scooches quickly to the end, clearly fully awake now, “I put it on and thought I’d just lay down for a quick second, but then the bed was so comfy, and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick nap, and then…” he trails off, looking up at you through his lashes with big eyes already pleading for forgiveness, “I’ll buy you a new one. Swear it.” 

It’s impossible to be mad at him when he’s looking like this, inhumanely soft and easily forgiven, “You’re lucky you’re cute, or you really would be dead.” 

He doesn’t respond with words, but instead the outstretch of his hands, fingers flexing as he beckons to you. The needle rests on its perch, the vinyl left behind to gather dust for a few extra moments, as you go straight to him. 

When his palms slip beneath your old t-shirt and meet your skin, they’re pleasantly warm. 

“You were right,” you admit as his knees spread, delegating even more room for you to stand in front of him as your hand wanders to cradle the side of his face, fingers tangling in sweaty curls from his rest. Your thumb mimics his on your own skin instinctively, tracing a large arch right up over his cheekbone, “It’s hot as balls outside.” 

“Told you so,” he murmurs, smiling softly in satisfaction as he leans lazily into your touch. 

“You did,” you agree quietly, half-entranced by his relaxed face, no sight of pride in the room currently. 

He resembles a cat as he continues to preen under your gentle hand, and you almost expect him to start purring right before you find the strength to pull away, removing his hands from where they'd wandered to your lower back. 

One swipe of his finger along your sweaty spine, and you’d remembered what your original intentions had been immediately upon getting home. 

“Wai- Where are you going?” he’s seemingly brought back down to Earth the moment he loses the pattern your thumb had been tracing, the press of your fingertips into his scalp. When he reaches back out to latch onto you again, you take a step back, “Get back here-”

“I need to shower,” you laugh, shaking your head and smacking his hands away as he continues to barter, “I’m all sweaty and smelly, let me go clean up and then we can nap togeth-” 

“You can shower after we nap,” he nearly whines, finally catching your shirt between his fingers and tugging, uncaring for if he stretches the fabric. A small price to pay to have you close to him, “C’mon, sweetheart. I know you’re just as exhausted as I am.” 

You swear you meant to take another step backwards, but somehow, you end up back between his knees, “Did you not hear me, Munson? I stink.”

“Good.” 

He doesn’t give you any time to react – in an instant, he’s throwing his face forward, burying it against your stomach as you let out a gasp and immediately try to pry him away with far too gentle of hands in his hair. 

“Eddie!”

If it were anyone else, you’d probably be mortified. But Eddie just takes a dramatic deep breath in, nose buried just shy of your belly button, and when his shoulders start to shake with muted laughter, you can’t stop the smile from breaking. Your fingers are still twisted in his hair, still pulling back in an attempt to get him away from you, but he’s resilient. 

And all your faux resistance is weak in comparison. Soon enough, you’re back to melting into him. 

Only once you’re relaxed once more, no sign of trying to pull away again any time soon as his hands once more evade the space beneath your shirt to wander up and down your sticky skin without a care in the world, does he lift his face away from you long enough to breathe and speak, “I’ll have you know – I love your stink.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious.” 

“You’re an idiot.” 

“I’m your idiot.” 

The game of banter is cut short when he goes back to pressing his nose into your clothes that surely can’t smell good. No amount of deodorant or perfume could erase that underlying stench of sweat. Hell, the shirt is still a bit moist from it all: from the walk to the gym, from your workout itself, from the walk home. It’d been through the ringer, and you’re back to tugging him away from you. 

“I refuse to believe you like how gross I smell right now,” you reinforce, eyes darting towards the bathroom connected to your master bedroom, “I promise I’ll be quick with the shower.” 

“Baby,” he fights back, wrapping his arms around you securely, no intention of losing this battle, “You remember that time we went to the fair, and you were complaining about how you were sweating, so I tried to lick your face?” 

Your nose scrunches quickly at the memory, “I do, unfortunately.”

“You really think I’d be willing to lick the sweat off your body but be afraid of you smelling a little bad while we cuddle?” his shoulders drop as he looks up at you, head tilted, almost as if amused with the conversation, “What kind of man do you take me for?” 

“The kind that gets off on annoying me.” 

His jaw drops, putting on a fake look of offense before he dramatically throws himself back onto the bed, laying flat as he makes a fist to mimic stabbing his chest, “You wound me.”

You’ve heard those words a thousand times in a hundred different ridiculous voices. You’ve seen this scene enough to have it mesmerized at this point, down to the over-exaggerated pout of his lips and the lingering of the fist against his sternum. 

You never grow tired of it. You never will. 

“Need me to kiss it better?” you joke as you prop a knee up on the bed, following the same script as always. 

And he hits his queue perfectly when he lifts his head eagerly at the expected response, wiggling his brows a bit. “Absolutely. Doctor’s orders, in fact.” 

“Great,” you see an opportunity, and take it, “I’ll get right to it, after my showe-” 

You don’t even get the final syllable of the word off your tongue before he’s clenching his thighs around your own, knees pressing hard before he wraps his legs the rest of the way around your waist to pull you in. A squeak of surprise leaves your lips as you begin to fall forward, but Eddie is quick to break the fall with ease. Catching you with his eager hands, maneuvering for you to half drop to the mattress while some of you still lands atop of him. 

He has you right where he wants you, turning his head to be face to face with you, noses nearly brushing, “Unfortunately, the doc said you have to kiss it better now, or else you’ll be comfy coffin shopping.” 

“A fatal wound?” you gasp, nearly mocking him. It doesn’t offend him – if anything, his boyish grin only grows wider, “First, I’m smelly-”

“Again, I like when you’re smelly.”

“-And then I inflict a fatal wound upon my lover? Oh, how dare I.”

Slowly, all your insecurity of how you currently smell is simply fading. The entire ordeal has become an art of childlike, whimsical jokes – and Eddie is an artist. A professional at the dance, locked and loaded with his incomparable skill set equipped for disarming you this way. The ability to make someone feel loved, imperfections and weirdness aside. 

He likes you, even when you claim you don’t smell your best. And you like him, even when his hair is tangled beyond recognition and one of his socks is half-hanging off his foot from a nap.

You like him when he’s embarrassing you in public, tongue chasing after you with the threat of licking your sweat away, and he likes you when all you can do in response is a weak palm to his chest (that isn’t even making an effort to push him away) as you giggle relentlessly. 

You like each other on the good days, the bad days, the weird days. 

Disarmed entirely, you don’t even notice when his face conveniently slots itself far too close to your armpit as you two scooch further up into the bed. You’re more occupied with the way your legs tangle up, toeing each other’s socks off properly as he slings a heavy arm across your torso. 

“We’re gonna have to wash the sheets,” you mumble, exhaustion catching up as the two of you finally settle. 

He hums absentmindedly, nuzzling into your skin a bit further as he makes himself comfortable. “And wash away your sweet, sweet stink? I don’t think so, sweetheart.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” you laugh, unbothered as your fingers start to trail up and down his back over the t-shirt, smoothing out wrinkles along the way, “I’m serious. We need to change them soon anyways, I think I got crumbs in the bed the other night with those crackers.” 

“Bury me in the crumbs of all your midnight snacks,” he almost slurs, clearly drifting back off. 

You snort in response, relaxing and letting your own eyes shut. Matching all your deep breaths with his own, a million different last words crossing your mind to whisper to the boy you’re sure is once again asleep. 

I love you.

I adore you. 

I would like to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me. 

And maybe some of those unspoken thoughts slip out without you realizing, because he squeezes you just a little bit tighter, presses his face just a little bit deeper into your skin as his scruff tickles you. 

The only actual thought you can know for certain that you say, though, is, “Do you think they actually make coffins with memory foam inside?” 

To your surprise, even despite the almost-snores that had been escaping him, he answers in a heartbeat. 

“Oh, definitely. We’ll order two.”

[razmerry]

this is a genuinely vulnerable, touching, and emotionally powerful moment of seeking out connection from jason to dick until you remember that being "all back to normal" refers to when jason got digested by an alien, trapped in a goo egg, and then turned into a tentacle monster that ate people

[secondlina]

hi! I just got my crow plush and it is the cutest, softest lil guy. I'm so glad I was able to snag one! your crow time comic is one of my favorite comics to read and follow!

I'm popping in to ask you if I could draw the crows from six of crows in the style of how you draw your crows. with proper credit, of course.

this may be obvious, but absolutely no worries if you say no! thanks!

I haven't read Six of Crows yet! I've been meaning to. I actually bought the first book last year and then straight up lost it on the subway lol. I did see a part of the tv series but I'm told it's a mish mash of several books so I'm not sure who the actual crows are. That sounds like a really cute idea for after I read it.

Thanks for buying a boi!!!

EDIT: I totally misread that, I thought you were asking me to draw them. Anybody can draw them! Go for it.

[bluepandadraws-log]

Me: Oh boy 7pm! Time to go on tumblr and see the reactions to my comic- *Most recent notes say "Eww what the fuck" and the other says "I had a stroke trying to read this"*

Me: Oh damn okay, more Sesbian Lex in a few weeks then gotcha

[cottoncandysprite]

Was complaining about how weird it is that my LGBTQ lit professor used books from every era and facet of queer history except AIDS and one of my underclassmen classmates genuinely asked me why AIDS is a queer issue OPEN THE SCHOOLS OH MY GOD

[krazys-ass-emporium]

This is absolutely "two guys stay 5 feet apart because they aren't gay" vibes pfft.

[phtalogreenpoison]

self care is such a sisyphean task. man i'm doing it but ugh it's hard.

[dootznbootz]

Why is one of Odysseus' epithets "Godlike"? Epithets usually say something about the person. But Godlike is so... vague??? I mean most other epithets lets you know about the person.

"Swift-footed"? Fast as fuck. Eat their dust, slowpoke.

"Loud of Warcry"? Can speak at max volume. Who needs a fire alarm when you have this guy?

"Breaker of Horses"? Horse girl™

But what about Odysseus specifically makes him godlike??? While he is a descendant of Hermes, he is not a demigod like, for example, Achilles. He's a favorite of Athena but he's not the only person favored by a god.

Is it because he's "as wise as Zeus"? Is it because he's a pretty boy with hair like hyacinths in full bloom and fine thighs? Is it because he's unpredictable af in everything other than his family?

Idk I just think it's neat to think about.

[raccoon-crown]

I'm getting the feeling that there would be a fourth movie of Sonic and that it may involve Sonic Heroes mixed with Sonic CD.

Like, Eggman finally creates Metal Sonic, and the story of how it kidnaped Amy and Sonic destroys it comes to live, but without Little Planet being involved and only taking a portion of the movie. (Also I think Amy could end in earth very much like how she ended in Little Planet in the game, she follows the cards and ends up traveling to our Planet)

Then Metal Sonic gets frustrated by failing his purpose to defeat the Hedgehog from the beginning and the Neo Metal Sonic arc starts, He kidnaps Eggman and the only one that dramatically scaped was Agent Stone.

Agent Stone would leave clues for Sonic and company like Eggman did with the Chaotix but this time for team Sonic.

In the Mean time, there's someone that crossed another ring at the time, looking for the Chaos emeralds for her collection, since maybe it's being known that they're on earth. That how Rouge enters the story and looking in some abandoned Eggman Bases ends up finding an unknown hedgehog in stasis: Shadow.

She doesn't know him, and doesn't care at the start, but since he is amnesic she think it could prove to be useful, also he was helpful to save her from a Mad robot that was guarding him, also convincing the robot to join her cause.

And... well, that's as far as I can get for now!!

[kyunsies]

guys idk who needs to hear this but the production on the 'fatal love' album was like ............. insane like how tf did mx do that

[smoozie]

Grian and Martyn's dynamic to me is the main character vs the guy who should be the main character

[misteria247]

WILD LINK'S LOOK OF MURDEROUS RAGE

SOMEONE'S GONNA DIE TODAY AND ALL I GOTTA SAY IS TEAR THAT BITCH APART MY SON

[tigeristired]

chat how would we feel if I posted the poem about creative burnout I wrote for a class and fell in love with?

[kxkarot]

[impala-dreamer]

is this too romantic? am I going too far? is there any other way to write romance than all in, all encompassing, perfectly magical? no. this is fine.