#also this is how I discovered heathers

[audreyscribes]

Ω PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS: ☀ APOLLO: God of Archery, Art, Music, & Poetry, Prophecy, Light & Sun, Healing & Plagues, Truth 🎶

author's note: I had a sudden idea about writing some headcanons Camp Halfblood demigods being claimed and what it's like for each respective god and cabin, followed by a small blurb afterwards. Thank you for reading and please like and reblog! The order is not in order of the cabin numbers. [PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS MASTERLIST]

When you get claimed, you're graced with a light haloing over you. It's so bright yet soft. You also feel warm but you somehow feel like its a warm hug and its Apollo secretly giving you a hug.

The Apollo cabin welcomes you happily and they all gather around, singing you a welcome song. Some of them break out into an Acapella, while some whip out their instruments out of thin air. You find yourself at least humming to the song and maybe even singing along, the words just coming to you naturally. 

 You’re shown the sleeping quarters that are nice and warm, and when you press your nose against them, you can smell the sun on them. 

You’re also shown the ropes of the place, but most importantly where they treat the sick and injured. As children of Apollo, your natural gifts are used almost daily. If you’re not that hyped about seeing blood or the like, you’re moved away from the rotation and help out with other things: changing sheets, disinfecting, checking stock and getting stock, and so forth. 

You’re still required to learn how to do First Aid though. Even if your godly parent is the god of Healing, you’re still going to have to learn how to do the mundane medical methods. Better learn how to do proper CPR just in case. Sure, you could heal any damages but it's better not let it happen anyway. 

You just have candy in your pockets. You might think its odd but when you see a small camper hurt their knee and one of your siblings whip out a lollipop after patching it up, you realise you’re not just there to soothe physical wounds. 

Plus, you have candy. What’s not to love?

Though, speaking of Candy, you didn’t know you had to help out in sorting candy and inspecting it. Especially any red candy or specific dyes used in them. You learn immediately that once ago, there was a period of time that the campers acted very intensely, and after an intense lava wall incident and an almost burnt down pegasus stall, it was discovered that some people had consumed certain candies containing Red dye 40 and was affecting the ADHD.

The Apollo cabin is the place to be for entertainment. There’s constantly music and art being produced. There are even beat poetry nights. 

So many rap battles. 

The Apollo cabin often has collaborative efforts with the Hephatesus Athena,Dionysus cabin. There’s always some big project happening and it’s always a treat.

Hamilition. Cats. Hadestown. Heathers. Highschool Musical- all the broadway shows and musicals you can think of, the Apollo cabin have it down pat. Along with the Dionysus cabin, you just perform and break out in song. Eventually Mr. D and Chiron let you guys perform actual broadway musicals or general theatre because there were too many impromptu moments that broke through the entire camp. No one has recovered from the D's (Mr. D, the Dionysus, and Demeter cabin) and the Giant Strawberry incident.

When you get claimed, light envelops you with a soft mysterious song playing. It was warm and you swore you could imagine arms hugging you lovingly. You’d imagine Apollo used the claim to at least give his children a hug. You hugged back and you felt the faintest squeeze back. Before you could dwell on it later, the light disappears leaving a faint glow on your skin. 

The song you had heard had also drifted off as well, but it had spoken to your soul. Like it had been chosen for you. You saw a bunch of other campers stand around and begin going into verse, a choir of campers singing a song before you realized it was the same song from before. More and more people began to join in, singing in acapella, instruments being played, and people clapping along for the beat. You watched in excitement and you felt their music resonate with you, it went through your body, up your throat and before you knew it, you were singing along, leading it. 

When the song came to an end, the singers cheered and clapped before you saw a boy with curly blonde hair step up, giving you a beaming smile. You thought he looked like a golden retriever. 

“Hi! You definitely have the chords of a child of Apollo” he complimented, holding out his hand. You took his hand as you shook, “My name is Will Solace, and I’m the cabin leader of Cabin 7. Welcome to the Apollo cabin!”

[raziiyah]

hey! this is actually something i've thought about quite a lot before so here's how i see it:

since monsters are so diverse in the monster world, there are a vast amount of factors that are considered beautiful. some monsters may like 1 eye, some like 3 eyes and some like 8. some like feathers, scales, or fur. it just comes down to preference. but for monsters, generally, scary = beautiful

firstly, for the teeth thing, i imagined that just like human beauty standards, monster beauty standards can change. perhaps yellow teeth used to be the standard, but then it was discovered that whiter teeth made them more visible and gave them a scarier appearance. also, maybe they discovered that poor dental health caused monsters to lose their teeth sooner, which is a problem if you rely on them for scaring. proper dental care allowed you to stay healthy and kept your teeth in good condition, keeping you in the scaring career for longer. like when sulley is brushing his teeth in mi, mike really emphasizes getting rid of plaque

this change could also be why randall's teeth in mi are visibly whiter than they were in mu

as for female monsters, i see it sorta like how jessica rabbit from who framed roger rabbit is in toon town. she's regarded as very beautiful, but not as desireable or successful (to other toons) as roger rabbit, someone more cartoony and goofy looking

so though the more humanoid looking monsters could be considered beautiful, since being a scarer is known as the biggest achievement a monster could have, if you're scary, you're considered beautiful on a whole other level.

another idea i had is that scaring could be considered as a male dominated career, so the scary/beauty standards for female monsters aren't as scrutinized as much as male monsters. this could be why there are more female monsters that aren't necessarily as "scary looking"

this could also play a role into why the pnk's are so cutthroat- with a more conventionally beautiful appearance, they might not be considered the most successful in monster society. sure they could be models and movie stars

(though i can still see """scary/conventionally unattractive""" monsters being just as viable as models and moviestars in the monster world, maybe even more so),

but since scarers are the creme de la creme, "prettier" monsters could sometimes be seen as beautiful but maybe not typically the image of someone "successful" or "desireable" (my oc lia is a scarer and has a body type similar to the pnks so i made this an insecurity of hers hehe)

but monsters can combat this by showing their scariness through their glowing eyes, teeth, claws, etc. this could be valuable as well as there's a scary/surprising factor to appearing "innocent" at first, which could be advantageous in scaring, if you know how to use it (like the pnk's in the toxicity challenge or terri and terry in the scare simulator)

also considering the movie poster seen in maw; it's about monsters in space, likely referring to aliens. humans could be considered aliens/alien-looking to monsters because they come from another world, and heather has a more humanoid appearance

on the other hand, hss is more favored as "one of the most powerful, scary monsters in campus, and they have a more traditionally "scary" appearance. and in monsters at work, of the female monsters in the mu sororities, rosie levin was the one who made it to the same scare/(laugh) floor that sulley/(mike) are/(were) on, at monsters inc.

so really i think beauty is subjective in the monster world since everyone is so different. conventionally beautiful monsters are still beautiful, maybe even some monster's preference, but scary monsters are generally favored most, because of how much monster society is centered around scaring. after all, "scariness is the true measure of a monster."

@moonlight-monster @randall-simp-nadt88

[adventuresofalgy]

The weather birds had promised Algy a brief respite from the drenching Scotch mist, and he was gratified to discover that for once their forecast was correct, for the next morning was decidedly brighter, and although the rain – and no doubt the mist too – would surely return, it was pleasant to see the world again, and to be able to relax without having to shake the water off one's feathers every few seconds…

Flying back to the edge of the peat bog, Algy settled down on a convenient bank of heather, which bordered one of the many small pools to be found scattered across the treacherous marsh. Leaning back happily on the accommodating wee bushes, he pondered the mysteries of the wild west Highland weather, and thought how very much more agreeable it was not to be soaking wet… If only it could last!

But for now he was both dry and comfortable, and so – forgetting about his recent drenching and the dreariness of the short, dark days – Algy turned his thoughts instead to his human friends who were beset by quite different concerns and miseries. He knew that many were greatly worried about the human conduct of the world, and some were perhaps even falling victim to its excesses.

Reclining in the tranquillity of a wilderness where "the great heron feeds", Algy recalled a particularly apposite poem, and he very much hoped that those of his friends who were troubled or distressed would also be able to come into the peace of wild things and rest for a while…

When despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I come into the presence of still water. And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light. For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

[Algy is quoting the poem The Peace of Wild Things by the contemporary American writer Wendell Berry.]

[ssseashell]

my newtmas headcanons (because i saw some people posting their own hc's and had to share mine)

these are mostly based on a modern setting scenario, but some can be pictured in canon aswell ^__^ 🐈🐈‍⬛

thomas has dimples, newt has freckles

thomas has brown hazel-ish eyes, newt has dark brown eyes

thomas’ cheeks are naturally red and newt’s cheeks are pale and, sometimes, they turn pink

newt collects vinyls and books, thomas collects comic books and mini figures

thomas’ love language is ‘physical touch’, so he’s always touching newt; holding his hands, massaging his back, playing with the lobe of his ear, temple kisses, love bites, whatever.

newt’s love language is ‘words of affirmation’, so thomas receives ‘i love you’s and any other sweet words like 50 times a day (he also makes sure he says it a lot)

eye contact, lots of eye contact. especially before they were together

small touches

arms brushing against one another

fingers rushing against one another

thomas still is determined to count every freckle newt has in his face

kisses. all types of kisses. smiles between kisses / slow kisses / messy kisses / following a kiss on the lips with a series of kisses down the neck / kisses that were meant to be gentle, ending up in devout passion / long kisses that leave them breathless and flustered

hugs. a lot of hugs. all types of hugs.

they know everything about each other

newt loves playing with thomas’ hair. he cut his hair once. never again

thomas has terrible memory, newt remembers everything

newt likes to draw and paint, thomas likes to make music (he knows how to play the guitar)

newt’s fav color is green, thomas’ fav color is red

they read together sometimes, each with their own book – but thomas is usually the one to get bored first, so he just lays on newt’s lap while newt plays with his hair and reads his book aloud for him

thomas likes to run late at night and when he’s back he just wants to sleep and cuddle, but newt won’t touch him until he’s showered

sometimes thomas comes home with some cut or injury from running and newt takes care of him every time

newt gets sick easily, so thomas had to learn how to take care of him. newt: don’t touch me, i’m all sick / thomas: i don’t care

newt, to thomas: if i hear you sing to heathers in the shower again i’ll join you just to drown you

every time they kiss in a stairwell, thomas makes sure he’s on a higher step so, for some seconds, he’s taller than newt

newt makes thomas trade their food when he likes the brunet’s better

thomas, when cuddling: “i’m hungry” / newt: “i’m not moving”

thomas had this bad habit of biting into his nails when he’s anxious or stressed, newt hates it

when newt is crying because of stress or anger, thomas licks his cheeks to catch his tears and never fails to make the blond chuckle

newt discovered he loves thomas on a random tuesday night. they were dancing and singing with their friends and thomas slipped on air and fell on his butt, and newt was like yeah, he’s so dumb. i do love him

they like to bake their friends’ birthday cakes together as part of their present (thomas is awful at the kitchen, so all he does is basically put the candles on top of the cake once it’s done

thomas is that person to be excitedly yapping in bed about his day and then, in two seconds, is falling asleep mid sentence because he’s so tired. and newt just giggles every time it happens, and kisses his forehead passionately before also falling asleep

sometimes newt feels so homesick it hurts, so thomas does all he can to cheer him up with silly little things, like watching newt’s favorite english movies or listening to songs he listened to when he was a kid, or having a tea party playdate where they pretend they are from the english royalty (yes, it’s so stupid

thomas: damn, it’s like my mom likes you better than me

thomas’ hand is smaller

they both love all rom coms, romantic comedies and christmas classics so, every week precisely, they buy all the sweet treats they want and make popcorn and choose something to watch together (even if it’s not christmas, even if it’s something they’d watched 1000 times already

[candlelightreader]

I was just listening to the DVD commentary on the Snakes episode and I know Grissom and Sara's scene (the only scene they're present in this Nick-centric ep) is big--obviously shipper nirvana--but the commentary by George Eads and the rest (I think one of the writers and either a director or producer) added so much weight that I'd never considered before!

So, Eads remarks on how Sara is the only one who ever talks to Grissom that way. This is, as she really dials up the husky, soft voice she adopts with Grissom. Eads also observes that Grissom is always himself with her, i.e. more of a nerd and rather stripped bare in a way he never is with anyone else. They all make comments on how emotional the scene is and how revealing it is of their relationship because, as always, Sara is 'putting it [her attraction and ongoing interest] out there'. She is never shy about wanting him. (I really need to transcribe the commentaries.)

But Eads keeps coming back to the idea that Grissom is more Grissom or is more himself with her than with any of the others. I'd add that it is not only the fact of their professional position that makes him freeze with her--I think Grissom is talking about himself when he asserts that some men are intimidated by beauty.

You know what magic, Grissom!

Anyways, something I hadn't thought of is that Grissom almost says something back, such as "Let’s go to dinner." But, of course, Sara overtalks and halts his momentum such as it were. But even more, it made me realize how pivotal this scene is, even compared to the Nesting Dolls reveal of her childhood trauma, because this is the moment when Grissom knows 100% that he isn't too late. The flirting takes on a different dimension after this. The looks become more meaningful.

This is especially significant when you consider that ealier in the season, the writers and producers are talking about the explicit intro of Sofia as a romantic interest for Grissom. She was there to create tension and her chemistry with Grissom was very much not subtext. So the decision to make 'this thing' with Sara more solid in the presence of this new love interest adds to the dynamic more than ever. Because the chemistry with Sofia is too easy and too simple. He's too smooth with her. He knows what to say to her at a given moment, because he has no interest in Sofia romantically and doesn't feel threatened by her. She really is just a colleague he doesn't hate. Ultimately, Sofia doesn't leave him speechless the way Sara does. He is not 'himself' when he is with her. Sara, on the other hand, always renders him vulnerable, which of course is why he distanced himself from her in season three, as he realized in four.

And we can see how Sara's effect on him is unique when looking at his other love interests: he does have speechless moments with Terri but by the end, no so much--perhaps there is a sense that while he is attracted intellectually, and somewhat sexually, there is no sentiment after all. With Heather, he never is at a loss for words, which leaves me to lean towards the notion that he was indeed never involved with her romantically--but, perhaps, it is her who makes him discover that sex without love makes him sad whether through conversation or more... In other words, grissom is typically putting on an air with other people. He's fully insulated against them and can act out the persona of an assured, curated Grissom, the bossman, the tin man, the nerd, the professor, the mentor, the father figure, etc.

But with Sara, he is exposed.

[heatherchasesyou]

Weird SH3 dream I had + a sketch page to illustrate some bit of it

pls read this u wont regret xd

OK SO I don't even know how to start it because it's always hard to tell when dream stories start 😭😭 but I can only remember of a BIG and WIDE library scenery. I felt very surprised because something told me it was a whole new "story expansion" that went in the SH3 HD collection (how specific of my brain, never played that version if u wanna know) almost like a discovered secret (so discovered that I remember coming to Twitter shouting like "WDYM THERE WAS A GODDAMN STORY EXPANSION IN AN HD COLLECTION HOW DIDN'T I KNOW THAT WTF". All of this in the dream, with the whole emotion LOL).

The funniest and weirdest point of the story in the game is the characters, more specifically Heather, Claudia n Vincent, the three fuckers were all in the same room aka the big library, but something about their interactions was very… different.

More specifically towards Vincent, dude was ABSOLUTELY STRESSED, he wasn't being the same slightly passive-aggressive he was with Claudia in the real game, or doing his common gaslight with his stable and concentrated voice tone, nah dude, he was COMPLETELY MAD, idk why, idk who hurt him but bro kgkgkfjgkgj he had no patience while taking to both Heather and Claudia, y'know that scene where Heather is about to get out of the same room as Vincent in their first meet and he shouts "WAIT, I'M NOT FINISHED TALKING"? It sounded pretty arrogant and aggressive, right? Now imagine it multiplied by 10 and we have Vincent having the worst day of his life, don't talk to him or else you die.

As a result, both Heather n Claudia was becoming as stressed as he was, mainly Heather in this case, dude was getting so arrogant that she had enough of that shit, she literally THREW HIM ON THE FLOOR, LITERALLY PICKING HIM ON THE ARMS AND SHIRT COLLAR N THROWING HIM ON THE FLOOR LIKE A… IDK LIKE A JUDO WRESTLER??? ISTG IT LOOKED SO FUNNY YET SO UNCANNY, IMAGINE HEATHER BEATING THE SHIT OUT OF HIM, THAT'S WHAT HAPPENED (y'know that eerie feeling when you see irl ppl fighting and you're like "omg why are they doing this pls STOP", that's how I felt on the dream seeing such scenery, but as we speak now I can't help but LAUGH LOUD like kdjfksjsek I LOVE REMEMBERING THIS, I LOVE 2 SEE MY MAN GETTING BULLIED IDK WHY).

There was also that confusing information that was inserted into my brain that the story was actually a SEQUEL of the events like??? Vincent received the backstab but didn't rlly die??? Neither Claudia??? But they were in there… As if nothing happened (maybe that was the reason Vincent was so distressed, he couldn't believe such a thing happened LOL). After Vinny got completely ROASTED by Heather, he was there on the floor trying to get up, he was as mad as before but he couldn't do a thing, only look at Heather with his eyebrows working the RAGE that was inside of him.

Jeez, I loved that dream, hope I can have more of this in my future nights 🤣

[total-drama-brainrot]

This Alenoaheather AU is bringing me an unholy amount of serotonin and I love it- I’m still just now discovering it and I wish I knew about it sooner😭😭 But question if I may!

So, by the time Noah gets eliminated, where would you say his relationship lies with Alejandro and Heather? Like, does he leave the competition like, “You both tried to play each other, but I ended up playing the both of you, L” Like does he just think that Alejandro and Heather only romantically like each other, and he was just their attempt at emotionally manipulating one another, or does he at least have an idea that they potentially may feel romantically towards him? Honestly I’m just curious about how his elimination would play out between the three of them-

I'm glad other people are enjoying this AU as much as I am. Me and Perp are slowly spreading our Alenoaheather propaganda and it's working.

It's been established that Noah's elimination in this AU will take place at some point in the early post-merge game, probably either China or the Serengeti (though Niagara Falls might work too. We haven't exactly touched on how each challenge can/will play out since this whole concept has been put on the backburner), which gives his dynamic with Heather and Alejandro time to blossom from the initial double fake dating ploy into something more genuine.

Well before his elimination, Noah's been caught in his double-crossing ways; or to be more accurate triple-crossing, since Noah initially decided to play along with both Heather and Alejandro's schemes with the intention of throwing them both under the bus (or at least reaping all of the benefits for himself). But, by the time his ploy is figured out, the three of them have developed genuine feelings for each other.

As such, Heather and Alejandro are hesitant to have him eliminated; sure Noah somehow managing to pull the wool over their eyes for as long as he did was infuriating, but it was also impressive. Like recognises like, and the two biggest schemers in the game can appreciate when they've been outplayed, aggravating as it is, especially when the person who bested them essentially used their own trickery against them. Also, though the two of them would never admit it, both Heather and Alejandro know that they'd honestly miss Noah's caustic company.

Of course, at this point in the competition Heather and Alejandro are still deep in their "rivalry" phase, so it takes the two of them a very convoluted and overcomplicated conversation to figure out that they both share the same sentiment concerning a certain cynic- since every encounter they have with each other is practically a game of backhanded compliments and dancing around the true meaning of their words. It takes even longer for them to come to an agreement, given how stubborn the both of them can be, but eventually they manage to co-operate.

Which is what leads to The Confrontation, the point in the story where the two fake dating plots merge into Heather and Alejandro putting aside their differences to rule the game together, utilizing Noah as their shared right hand man since he's shown a knack for strategy and subterfuge. After all, why would they want to get rid of the one person on the jet who's able to go toe-to-toe with them in terms of scheming, when they can instead keep him around as an accomplice?

At least, that's the excuse they both use. But the two of them internally can't deny that, even if it was all pretend, Noah wasn't a bad "boyfriend" by any means, and they genuinely enjoy his company. In turn, Noah's accepted that neither Heather nor Alejandro are as insufferable as he initially assumed, and that playing along with their grand plots is actually really fun. (And maybe he also likes the two of them, but Noah would never admit that.)

But there's a a whole cast's worth of people on the jet who the trio also have to consider in their plans; it would be super suspicious of all three of them if the flirting and Aleheather's animosity suddenly ceased. No matter how oblivious the rest of the competitors are, a sudden public change in their dynamic would be the equivalent of waving a huge red flag and screaming "hey, we're in an alliance, vote us out!" Very counterintuitive to their goal of winning the competition.

So the three of them resolve to act as they have been during challenges, and sneak off to the confessional when it's most convenient/feasible to do so, where they can plot and scheme away from the rest of the cast.

This means that, at least to everyone else in the game, Noah's still in this weird grey area where he's actively flirting with both Heather and Alejandro. Or, well, "flirting", since I imagine most of the advances would be initiated by the other party and Noah would play the part of the blushing damsel- or more accurately the begrudging but highly amused recipient, since I just can't conceptualise snarky, stoic Noah being the type to get flustered easily.

I imagine The Confrontation would happen somewhere around London timeline wise (it just feels like the most appropriate place to have a major shift in the plot happen, for obvious reasons), which would give the initial fake dating aspect of the AU time to run it's course without getting stale, and allow the three of them to establish their dynamic as a trio before the merge hits. It'd give Alenoaheather around five or six episodes worth of time to grow closer as a trio (from Greece's Pieces to Niagara Brawls, at least) and have their feelings grow and develop at a natural pace, to the point where they acknowledge that, perhaps, not all of the romantic tension between them is fake.

And then, of course, the Fake Cheating Arc happens. Noah's elimination is the catalyst for this section of the plot, which Perp and myself touched on pretty heavily in one of our reblog chains, and at this point in the story Alenoaheather are in a sort of vague kind-of-dating situation; the three of them know there's feelings there, but they're all more invested in the competition (and their manipulation of such) than trying to figure out what exactly is going on between them. Plus, World Tour takes place in 2010- concepts like polyamory weren't exactly common knowledge back then, so the three of them wouldn't have any basis of comparison for what their dynamic is/would be.

That, and the three of them are all fairly emotionally closed off, so getting them to admit genuine feelings for each other and show vulnerableness to anyone would be like pulling teeth. As it stands, they're fairly content to continue acting as a Trickster Trio, contented to leave whatever's going on between them unlabelled for the time being in favour of focusing their time and energy on winning the million. There's an unspoken understanding between the three of them; what they have is special, inconceptual and indescribable by mere words... which is mostly just an excuse for the three of them not to breach the subject, since they have the collective emotional intelligence of a spork.

That doesn't mean they don't love each other. Because they do, even if some of them (Heather and Alejandro) aren't exactly familiar with concepts like "unconditional love" and "loyalty/compassion for someone besides yourself" and "lowering your emotional walls and being the most genuine version of yourself in front of the people who care about you". It's a steep learning curve, but they're doing their best.

But that's besides the point; at this point in the plot, the trio are essentially a throuple in all but name at the point of Noah's elimination.

That's why his suggestion of playing off of his "cheating" is initially met with hesitance on Aleheather's part- they don't want the one person on the jet (besides each other) they actually care about to risk his reputation, but they also know that it's a strategically sound idea. There's a conflict of interest between their desire to win the competition by any means necessary, and the budding sense of empathy they've both began to develop as a result of their situationship.

Of course, they eventually agree to his plan, and then the whole Cheating Arc plays out as it's been explored previously.

Which means Noah's actual elimination ceremony is a very tense affair.

He's intentionally playing himself up as kind of a scumbag during it, since he wants both Heather and Alejandro to appear as sympathetic as possible to the remaining competitors, so the three of them stage an altercation during that day's challenge where Noah's caught out in his "cheating", and consequently "admits" that he's been playing the two of them and it's all ingenuine on his part, to direct the majority vote against him. It'd kill two birds with one stone that way; Noah gets himself eliminated without having to do much out of the ordinary, since he's already kind of an asshole so all he really has to do is play up that aspect of himself a little and lie about manipulating his partners, meanwhile Heather and Alejandro can reap the benefits of whatever brownie points they gain from being his "victims" by using their own manipulative prowess to adopt the role of the ex-villains, redeemed by their shared heartbreak. Or something equally melodramatic.

Noah doesn't really care about the specifics of it, he'll be long gone before his partners can start playing up their "betrayal and heartbreak", and then soon enough one of them will win the competition. And spoil him rotten with their money.

So, during the actual ceremony, Noah becomes persona non grata. No one wants to sit anywhere near him on the benches, and the remaining cast members form a protective wall between him and a distraught Heather, who sniffles back quiet tears every time her eyes wander too close to the cynic's slouching, impassive frame, and Alejandro who's sat eerily still and taut with disgraced fury, who's fiery green eyes haven't strayed from the burning glare he's shooting towards the bookworm.

Not that Noah's a stranger to receiving glares; the rest of the cast are also shooting him some downright murderous looks. Though he is impressed by his partners' acting abilities. He's also physically biting back pearls of laughter- the gritting of his teeth only serves to make him look unapologetically indignant, and thus more irredeemable in the eyes of their company- because every time Alejandro knows that no one's focus is on him, he sends his cerebral partner a cheeky wink and a smirk. The smug bastard.

Unsurprisingly, the vote is fairly unanimous. Chris doesn't even bother trying to raise suspense or tension by counting the votes, since the result is inevitable. That, and the atmosphere is already so tense and dramatic, the host is revelling in it. Chris even goes so far as complimenting Noah for outshining Duncan's cheating fiasco, showing the audience "what real relationship drama looks like", and maybe even congratulating Noah on almost being as heartless as he is.

He's escorted to the Drop of Shame, parachute backpack in tow, but before he can take the plunge he glances back at his audience. A raging sea of hostility greets him, but within the depths of animosity two shining beacons of light greet him. Alejandro and Heather shoot him a fleeting wave, the ghosts of smiles flickering across their features before they continue their flawless acts, but it's enough to reassure Noah that everything will be fine.

(Spoiler alert, things don't end up being fine for Noah.)

Of course this is all just an idea I'm spewing out. Nothing in this AU is set in concrete and it's always open to peer review or change. That's the beauty of public AUs; you can do whatever you want with them!

[toomuchracket]

i picture bday party girlie as being like Dramatically hot like the kind of hot where you can literally see heads turning when she walks past… so hot that everyone is like how did He bag Her???

and then flatmate is a girl next door kind of vibe like definitely gorgeous but where hot wouldn’t necessarily be the first descriptor until you see her let loose and you’re suddenly like i would kill myself for one night with her lol.

d word… drop-dead. like ur a goner the second you lay eyes on her. she gives cunty miniskirt and sunglasses strutting through london with her obsessed bf on her arm vibes.

office girlie i think i would beg her to be mean to me and i would like it but also she’d be my best friend. sheer tights and thick thighs and a leather blazer ohh i need her

barista girlie hallway crush… girl you get obsessed with because you always see her around and you can’t believe someone’s that gorgeous but you never go up to her

this didn’t really answer your question bc i think they’re all incredibly hot in different ways but if i Had to pick i think d word is the hottest <3

- heather 🫶

long post we r discussing everyone

the thing about bday party girly is that getting to that level of hotness was a gradual thing - not full ugly duckling transformation, because you were always pretty, but just finding your way in terms of fashion and beauty and discovering the styles you liked best and that suited you really well, and that did wonders for your confidence (which i think is like half the battle of hotness). but it still wavers, and you have a hard time with comparison to others (specifically, the girls you see matty with before you get together) and believing in yourself in regard to anything that isn't your writing ability; this is a leftover from your teenage years, where you'd only ever really get complimented on your brain and your writing and never on your looks, which you know isn't a big deal and it's nice people think you're smart but also... sometimes, when you're 16, you need to hear from someone that isn't your mum or your girls that you look nice lol. but you persevered with both writing and the style search, and it worked out well - one of the first things matty said when you guys were first introduced was "i've read your work! and i don't think it's fair that writing so good can come from someone so attractive. not fair at all", and when you realised that there was no punchline, that he actually meant it (he really did. he thought you were gorgeous)... yeah. we know what happened next

flatmate YES ok like you really are just so pretty and (as we know from pre dating flatmate era) a lot of people think that as is and they fancy you BUT like you said it isn't until you loosen up or you get kinda animated that it really sinks in how sexy you actually are. like, matty's already excited to be sat next to you the first time you meet, but it isn't until you roll your eyes and say something sarky and smirk that he properly becomes enamoured; when you're yapping with some other people during a break and you start ripping into a boy who said something really stupid or mean or whatever... yeah, matty's a goner (he really would kill himself for one night with you lol). such a fun couple, the two of you, because you're both aware of how hot you are - i mean, you both have your moments of insecurity, we all do, but you're generally very self-assured. and it's hot to see. very

d word... so fucking true. and you don't know it! you're too busy doing 5 million things at once to pay attention to people Wanting you, and all your self-care beauty regimes/pilates/buying nice clothes is really for nobody but yourself, because - eldest daughters rise up - you're really the only person who takes care of you. and then matty happens, and you like him so much you let your guard down a bit and relax, and suddenly you have someone else who takes care of you so naturally it's kinda overwhelming, someone else who makes a point of proving to you just how beautiful you are, someone else you want to look nice for, someone else who loves you and appreciates you and is almost unhealthily obsessed with you; he's never not clinging to you, as if you'll disappear the second he lets you go, and never not looking at you like you're the most precious thing in the world. you kinda are, to him, though

office girly - coolest person alive i fear. kinda like flatmate in that you know you're hot, even without the myriad of incredible outfits you've painstakingly put together; i do think you're the best dressed of the tmr girls, actually. anyway! THE body - soft curves, long legs (thick thighs save lives), hips that matty wants to (and has, actually) take a bite of, possibly the best arse in london, and we've all read tiny bikini so we know what your boyfriend thinks about your tits lol. there's a running joke in your relationship that the reason matty (art critic) fancies you is because you're built like the girls in Classical art, which he denies like "not true! you have nicer boobs" lmfao little freak. people are a little bit surprised when the two of you get together, because he's so shy and quiet and weird and you aren't, but holy shit do you look good together - i think you skew slightly on the edgy side of the fashion scale, so literally you and matty (when he loses the cardigans) are kinda the hot alt couple everyone dreams about. also yes heather she would be your best friend she's so sound!!

barista girly is very reminiscent of the girl who got on the same tube as me at westminster station a year ago and had a striped shirt tucked into flared jeans and pointed stilettos on and the most flawless straightened ponytail i have ever seen - chic as fuck, and you see her on public transport ONCE and think about her forever. intimidating, but so alluring, and if anyone actually plucked up the courage to talk to you they would learn you're lovely and also kinda a massive flirt; that is, until you meet someone you really REALLY like (matty) and you get really quite shy and soft. that said, before you meet him, you do Fuck (people of all genders), and actually you (and your strap) are responsible for a really quite massive amount of Best Sexual Encounter stories, so you're very known for being sexy lol - incredible energy matching going on between you and matty, actually. like, it should technically be a sad day for everyone else when you and matty get together, but you just work so well and look so incredible together that everyone's like. yeah ok this makes sense. yeah, you're gorgeous

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 1 Pt. 1 (Meet the Founder!)

When you play a challenge in The Sims 4 that ignites your imagination but is supposed to be fun (so why am I plotting generations like this is a real novel?!), you figure out how to use Tumblr to share it because you've officially put in too much effort for it to be a little word doc on your laptop and you actually can't get over how pretty this game is, even with the most basic graphics card on earth.

Gen 1 is a breeze compared to Gen 2, so enjoy the casual fun gameplay while it lasts... (And no, I'm not great at gameplay screenshots, thanks in advance for not caring! It gets better by Gen 2 but not incredible or anything.)

Generation One (Founder): Daisy Lea Darden Clumsy, Cheerful, Loves Outdoors Gardener (Botanist) Favourite Colours: yellow, white Favourite Drink: Apple Nectar Favourite Music: Cottagecore

Daisy Darden took some time after high school to decide what she wanted to do with her life. She ultimately chose to return to the home she lived in before her grandmother's death – a quaint village cottage at 5 Cobblebottom Street in Henford-on-Bagley. Raised by the old woman after her parents were killed in a car crash when she was a baby, Daisy was young when her grandmother died too, tossed into the foster system with nowhere to call home.

But the deed was still in the family name and Daisy was the only descendant. She hoped to find success as a gardener in one of the greenest towns in Simlandia, but more than anything she wanted to find the family she was robbed of as a little girl.

Despite everything she’d been through, she was optimistic and smiled when she thought about her future.

Not long after her arrival, she met Henford civil designer Neal Nesbitt, who made her feel things she'd never felt for a man before. He thought she was beautiful, and they loved spending time together outdoors, commiserating over Henford's often-rainy weather. Their connection was deep and immediate, and a daytrip to the city for a comedy festival let Neal see his cheerful girl in her element.

Already stressed by political red-tape at work, then the roof burst at his cottage north of town. During the repair, Daisy let him stay with her. Content to be alone after the shock death of his parents to a pandemic flu when he was just out of high school, Daisy made Neal feel at ease. He never wanted to leave, and he moved in for good before the repairs on his house were complete. That's when Daisy discovered his parents had been well off, leaving them more than enough to live comfortably as they began their life together. Daisy never cared about money, but she was grateful not to have to struggle after so many years of hardship.

To cope with her years in the foster system, Daisy had taken up meditation as a teen, guiding her mind to a place of calm despite the tumult in her life. It also helped her find literal balance, as she’d always been a bit clumsy. She stocked her kitchen with the cheapest dishes imaginable because she was always breaking them in the sink! When she wasn't tending to Henford's many beautiful green gardens, including her own, she was helping residents from Henford and beyond with guided meditation sessions in-person and online.

Neal and Daisy found themselves expecting after just a few months, but a blissful babymoon in Granite Falls convinced Neal he'd met the woman he wanted to spend his life with. He and Daisy were young but determined to make a good life for themselves and their child. They eloped in Oasis Springs on the way home, just months before the birth of their daughter, Heather. Even though she had to be induced and it went against Daisy's hopes for a natural home birth, that Heather was healthy was all that mattered.

Dog-lover Neal brought home a rescue, but even with the chaos of new parenthood, the smart, friendly sheepdog named Ralph fit with their little family perfectly.

How would a baby change life in Henford for lovebirds Daisy and Neal? ->

WCIF Neal Nesbitt + 5 Cobblebottom Street lot in the gallery.

[manicpixiedreamcurl]

The More You Give ❧ (Part V)

Pairing | Eddie x reader

Warnings | 18+ minors and blank blogs don’t interact, bullying, friendship comes and goes, discussions of anxiety, discussions of virginity, discussions of sex shaming, frottage (PUSSYJOB), everyone’s very vulnerable.

Word count | ~11,800

A/N | Oooh, mama. It’s been a while. I hope most of the people who like this fic are still around.

Taglist

Previous Chapter

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You like calling Eddie, the sound of his voice over the phone. The way he answers it differently each time:

“This is Eddie Munson, lead guitarist of Corroded Coffin; available for christenings, bar mitzvahs and weddings.”

“Munson residence. The old guy’s out so if you’re looking to buy a collection of novelty mugs now’s the time.”

“You’ve reached the church of Satan; Abaddon the Destroyer speaking. For your free introductory handbook on summoning circles just dial six-six-six.”

And then there’s the happy rise in his tone when he hears it’s you on the other side, the surprised laugh at the sound of your soft hi, Eddie even when he’d asked you to call. The crackle of his breath through the receiver, the way conversations with him are easy however they happen. With anyone else, phone calls feel stilted and awkward, but Eddie talks as if you’re sitting right in front of him. 

It makes you warm all over to think about. Eddie wants to see you and kiss you and touch you, but he’s also happy to sit on his couch miles away and speak to you, listen in return to everything you can bring yourself to say.

You have taken to dragging a chair from the kitchen and sitting by the hallway table to talk to him like this whenever you don’t see him in the evening. You spend an hour or two at a time smiling at your mom’s address book, twirling the coiled cord of the phone around your finger while Eddie talks about this day, asks about yours, explains why he’s really into this new Swedish black metal band he’s discovered, checks what you’re reading, shares an idea he has for Hellfire, plans your next date.

Today is no exception. Your dad has walked past muttering about the phone bill twice. Your mom, as usual, has stationed herself in the kitchen within earshot, but what exactly she gets out of hearing the low buzz of Eddie’s voice and your laughter, you don’t know.

"And you're sure you don't wanna come, sweet girl?" 

"Yeah, I-" You hesitate, playing with a rose petal from the bowl of potpourri that sits by the phone. "I think I should stay here. Just in case." 

In truth, you don't have much hope that May will call, but imagining that she does and you aren’t here to receive it fills you with worry. The last thing you want is to make things any worse between you after you messed up so badly. 

It’s not unusual for you to feel this type of regret. When overthinking something delays your actions until it’s too late. You worried so much about how to tell May about Eddie that you left it too long. You should have told her the day you kissed him, should have phoned when you got back from your first date. Instead, you spent your time imagining the conversation, and let your best friend find out something important through somebody else. 

You hurt her. She is wounded enough that she really has given up defending you. When Caroline remarks on your silence now, May doesn't attempt to fill the emptiness your lumping throat leaves. 

"She's just shy," May used to say, waving her hand. Her embarrassment over your stumbled words and fidgeting hands was clear, then, but you knew she felt for you, even if she didn't understand why she had to. Now she just looks at you expectedly like everyone else, pulls awkward, embarrassed faces when you stumble and fidget through a non-answer.

You had taken to spending more of your lunches helping Heather with her new responsibilities as class president, sitting quietly at debate club and nodding along to her speeches, taking the role of a small country at her model UN meetings. But you are starting to feel her frustration with you, too. 

“You don’t have to come to every meeting if you don’t enjoy it.” She said to you after the last UN encounter you’d sat through without uttering a word.

“It’s just, I don’t really know much about Anguilla. But I like hearing you speak.”

Heather smiled with her lips closed. “That’s not what it’s for, though. I think maybe you’d prefer having lunch with May and the cheerleading girls again.”

You felt your cheeks burning, pulled the sleeves of your cardigan down over your hands and fiddled with the woollen edges. “Oh. Okay. Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Sometimes you think about sitting at Eddie’s table instead. To have another hour of him every day. The picture is nice on its own. Talking to him, to Jeff, even the freshmen Eddie has adopted since the beginning of the year. But then the image zooms out; you at the Hellfire table, May with the cheerleaders, Heather at her clubs, and your chest aches. You don’t know when it happened, when you had to start holding on this tight, digging your nails into them. You only know you’ll leave claw marks on your friendship before you let it go easy.

And while you can never get enough Eddie, you aren’t normally deprived of him outside of the school walls. With anyone else, you might have worried about suffocating him, being clingy. But Eddie makes it clear at every turn how much he wants to be around you. His grin in the mornings when you climb into his van. The way he leans into your space, hair tickling your cheeks, and asks all soft and earnest if you want to go home with him. Some days, he invites you into the trailer to touch and taste you. Others, to sit on his couch or his bed and talk. Or to just spend hours just breathing the same air as him, listening to him scribble in his D&D notebook or strum at his guitar while you read or do your homework. 

But you won't see him tonight. Eddie is going to see Fright Night with most of the boys in his club, and it's all he's talked about the past week. He'd asked you to come, all wide brown eyes and dimples, and your stomach had twisted. 

"Normally May and I do something around this time each month." You hadn't been able to look him in the eye when you said it, fiddling with his hands instead. You'd rubbed the softness of your thumb over the callused pads of his fingers, knowing he had that look he'd been getting whenever you found yourself bringing your friend up. A little sad, guilt he shouldn't be feeling. Irritation, at you or at her you're not brave enough to ask. 

"You sure?" He asks over the phone now. "It'd be pretty easy for me to pick you up. I'm giving Wheeler a ride. He's just down the street from your place." 

You feel a wave of fondness for him, for the lie he’s just told. He isn’t aware that you know exactly where Mike Wheeler lives. You’ve babysat Holly since you were sixteen, and the route to her home takes half an hour in your dad's car. 

"I'm sure," you say, trying to sound firm. "But I hope you like the movie."

"If it's good, maybe we can see it together another time." 

"You wouldn't mind going twice?" 

"I'd watch the same movie twenty times in a row if you promised to come to the last one." He laughs, sounding enough like he means it that your smile hurts your cheeks. 

"That might be a touch excessive," you murmur. "Twice sounds like enough."

"How about tomorrow? We could get dinner first, make a real date out of it." 

Your face heats up like the first time Eddie asked you out. You touch your toe to your ankle, winding the cord of the phone tight around your finger. You whisper. "Okay."

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah." You press your knees together. "That sounds nice."

"Unless the movie's shit, then we'll have to call the whole thing off." You laugh down the phone, imagining the tease in Eddie’s smile. "I'll have a review for you by tomorrow, sweet thing."

"Okay, Eddie."

"And I'm not leaving for another ten minutes. If you change your mind, just call, okay?"

"Okay, Eddie," you repeat. "Have a nice time."

"See you soon, beautiful." 

Your toes curl. "See you soon." 

When he's gone and the phone is back in its holder, you have to sit tense and still for a second to avoid making some kind of happy squeal, settling for curling your fingers into your skirt and tapping your heels wildly against the floor. 

You still feel a little dizzy with the thought of him when you pull the chair back into the kitchen, enough that you jump when your mom speaks. "That Eddie on the phone?" 

You fix her with a look, because she knows exactly who you were talking to, and she gives you a mock innocent smile that shifts into a real one. 

“You were laughing a lot.”

Her hands drip soapy water from the kitchen sink, finishing up the dishes that would have been done ten minutes ago if she hadn't dragged it out for an excuse to stay where she could hear you. You chew the inside of your lip while you take the next freshly cleaned plate from her. Grabbing a dry dish cloth to drag across the ceramic, you shrug one shoulder. 

“He’s funny.”

“And you like that about him?”

“Mom.”

“Just a question!” She says, holding her hands up, before grabbing the dish towel from you to wipe her wet hands. “You talk more, when it’s him on the phone. Did you know that?”

“You listen to all my conversations?”

“I’m your mother,” she laughs, bumping your hip with hers. “And I’ve never heard you so chatty.” You give her another look and she reconsiders. "Chatty for you. There's been times I've rounded that corner surprised you were even on the phone, you're so quiet. I mean, with that last boy-” She hums a disapproving tone, reaches out to fix the collar of your cardigan. "I swear you'd sit there and not say anything at all."

“It's easier to talk to Eddie,” you admit, thinking about how pleased he looks when you ramble about what you're reading, the last kid you babysat, even the new eyeshadow palette you’d saved up for and felt a touch immature being so excited about. All his encouraging nods, all the questions and affirmations afterwards. "He's…" 

He’s a million good things. Too many to name, too many to put in order. You glance at her to the side, raising one shoulder. 

"I like him," she declares. "I think he's good for you." 

Your face is hot and uncomfortable, but it still feels nice to agree. "I think so, too." 

When the dishes are away and your mom is settled on the couch with your dad watching Quincy reruns, you walk slowly upstairs, hoping that the phone will ring again before your door closes. 

You make a bet with yourself in your head. If it rings before I get to my room, it’ll be May. It’ll be May and she’ll want to be friends again and everything will be alright. You reach the top, spy the door the end of the hall. Any time after, it’ll be somebody else; a sales call, a chatty relative. 

All you hear as you pad across the landing is your parents laughing at the TV. 

With your door closed, your heart sore, you glance at your desk on the other side of the room, the cork pin board behind it decorated with memories. There is your first concert ticket, next to a postcard from the first time you left this country by plane. An askew origami frog that a boy you used to babysit made for you. A pom-pom that detached from the winter hat you wore from October to March three years running in middle school. 

There is Heather. One photo as she is now, smiling at you over a yellow smoothie. Another couple from your first years together, at the edge of womanhood. Her in braces and her mother's lipstick, the aquamarine taffeta dress she wore to your first high school prom. 

And there is May. She is everywhere, over and over again, in all the stages of her life since you met. She is in pigtails, her small hand in yours, her gap toothed grin next to your close lipped smile. She is in this room, with sparkling eyelids, the earliest and most keen model for your interest. She is at the Spring fair of 1979, holding cotton candy you'd shared soon after the photo was taken. She is at that first concert, decked out in Wham! merchandise. Swim meets and cheer competitions. A line of photo booth strips. You are there with her; both giggling, eyes crossed and tongues rolled. 

May has been a constant in your life, but now your life has shifted. Maybe you have to accept that she doesn’t want to shift with it. 

The phone rings downstairs. 

You hear your dad huff, the sound of your mom rising from the couch and heading through the hall. You hold your breath, listen to the buzz of her landline specific voice, all breezy politeness. Then she calls your name.

You practically throw yourself down the stairs, slipping at the last couple in your socks. You have to hold yourself back from grabbing the phone from her. Taking just a second to glance over your shoulder to check that she's actually walking away, you whisper into the phone. “Hello?”

"Where are you? I rented Footloose." Tears prick in your eyes at the sound of May’s voice. You look up to the ceiling, silent for too long. “You still there?”

“Yes,” you breathe.

“Where are you?” She repeats. “Second Friday of the month. It’s movie night.”

“I didn’t-” You swallow, blinking tears away as they rise and trying not to sniffle. “I thought maybe you didn’t want to see me.”

"Of course I want to see you,” she answers. “You're my best friend."

You feel your bottom lip shaking, can’t fight the sniffles this time. You drag the sleeve of your cardigan across your eyes, voice cracking when you speak next. "You really mean it, May?"

"I’m inviting you round, aren’t I?” She says, sharp tone softened by a sigh crackling in your ear through the receiver. “Of course I mean it.” You hum a high sound, a stifled sob of relief, eyes squeezed shut. “Now, come watch Kevin Bacon shake his ass with me." 

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You are warm under the silken soft quilt pulled from May’s bed. Your stomach is heavy with buttered popcorn and gummy worms. Your skin is soft from the homemade face masks you made in her kitchen, singing along to Cyndi Lauper and listening to May read the recipe aloud from the newest YM magazine dropped on her doorstep just this morning.

Stirring oatmeal and yoghurt together like a potion, you felt a pang of nostalgia. For a second, you were seven years old, standing with May over a muddy puddle, your makeshift cauldron brimming with gathered leaves, stones, and red berries. You’d mix it up with long, gnarled twigs and cackle together like the witches. The mucky water wasn’t just mud, then. It was poison, it was love potion. It was magic, made together. 

Today, at eighteen, you glanced up at May’s concentrated face while she attempted to separate egg whites from yolks, and let yourself be soothed by the thought that maybe some things are still as they were. 

Footloose was abandoned after Kevin Bacon finished throwing himself rhythmically around an empty warehouse, May’s interest in it vanishing swiftly after that. You found yourself on the couch talking while the film played on in the background until the popcorn was finished and the oats could be washed from your face. 

Then May led you up to her room, almost as familiar to you as your own. 

The cream lambskin rug, still matted and stained in one corner from that time you’d spilt nail polish over it. Terrified you might not be allowed to come over anymore, May told her mom it was her, and she was grounded for a week. 

You bought her those fairy lights, the ones that hang above her bed. Last year, you wrapped them in pink tissue paper, felt the satisfying swell of a present well chosen when she’d hugged you tight with the box still in her hand. 

May has her own cork board. Amongst plastic medals and concert tickets, there is you at that fair, you and Heather at prom, the second strip from the photo booth. 

“And it’s like, when was it decided that we had to pick our whole future at eighteen, anyway?” May asks, eyebrows twitching like she wants to furrow them. She fights through it, keeping them high on her forehead to let you smooth powder over her lids. “Here I am, barely out of the cradle!” You snort, and her mouth tilts a touch. “Feels like I started walking last week, and now it’s all, what do you mean you don’t have a clue what you want to do with your life? It just feels crazy to me.”

“It is.” You shift forward on the soft shag carpet, your knees bumping hers under the throw keeping your legs warm. 

“Right? I mean, you know that your brain doesn’t even really mature until you’re, like, twenty-five? So I am close enough to a child that I really shouldn’t have this responsibility.”

Humming in agreement, you rub your thumb at the corner of her eye, smudging the edge of the lilac eyeshadow there. 

“At least I have an idea where I’m going. Indiana State, here I come. You’re still applying for NYU, right?”

“Mm. Maybe,”

“Oh, come on, you have to apply at least!” She insists, eyelids twitching. “It’s the place to be, for your poetry, right?”

You hum. “I might still do Chemistry.”

“Chemis- absolutely not!” Her eyes fly open, and you make a noise of protest.

“I’m not done!”

“You are not doing Chemistry.” May says, a comic picture with one eye bordered by soft pastel tones, the other bare of colour, while she looks at you sternly. “You don’t enjoy it!”

“But I could get a job at the end,” you reason. 

May snorts, eyes closing gently, chin peaking out to let you get back into it as though she’s already won the argument. “Job schmob,” she says. “When you’re in New York, you can find a rich man to worry about that.” You frown, and like she senses it, the eye you’re not working on opens again. “Or find a rich man for me. He has to be really rolling in it though, so he can look after us both.”

You hear Eddie’s voice in your ear like he’s in the room with you. Just wait, I’ll look after you. 

“Think you can do that?” May asks. “Keep an eye out for me, when you’re making all your arty, interesting friends in New York?”

You swallow, tuning back into the conversation. “I don’t think really want me to find you a man.”

“Mmph. The way my love life is going, I’ll need whatever help I can get.” She moves a little then, a slight tilt of her head that would be imperceptible to anyone but you, who's seen every degree of emotion on May’s face. You know she’s going to drop something serious before she even opens her mouth. “I saw Liam last week.”

You fight through the temptation to stop blending the eyeshadow on her lids, keeping your tone as even as possible. “Oh?”

“When I was in Indianapolis with the girls?” Those trips with the cheerleaders you avoid desperately. The thought of being stuck in a car with Caroline on the way there and back can make you break out in a cold sweat. “He was at one of the bars. He apologised, said he wanted to maybe go out again.”

“Mm.”

“Oh, don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything-”

“That was your judgy mmmh,” she says, batting your hand away from her face to look at you straight. “Last time I heard it was when I showed you that top I bought last month.”

Despite yourself, you crack at the memory of the flouncy pink thing she’d shown you with an awkward, self-aware smile. You’d been working out how to gently tell her to burn it when she’d figured out the tone of your hum and thrown it off in front of you with a whispered, “what was I thinking?” 

Now, your tilted lips turn down at May’s solemn expression, her eyes shiny. 

You shuffle closer, tucking the blanket around the both of you gently, cocooning your legs in together. “He hurt you, last time. Used you.” 

She chews her lip. “That’s what boys do.”

“May-”

“I know you think what happened with Andy was bad, but you’ll learn, that’s just how they are. They need a little more forgiveness than girls, and some of them are worth it.”

You feel the beginning of the argument she might not be quite past. “Andy didn’t really like me, May. He only wanted-”

“The same thing they all want. The only thing they all want.”

Your heart aches for her. “That’s not true.”

“You think it’s not true right now, but when you hold out on Munson the way you did with Andy, you’ll see that it is.”

You fiddle with your fingers then, wondering if you should tell her. The guilt of not sharing that you’d started seeing Eddie prickles along the back of your neck. Your knee starts to bounce, and May blinks at you, just as attune to the meaning of your expressions. “Well, with Eddie-”

“Please, please, tell me you haven’t fucked Eddie Munson.”

“No. I mean, not yet but,” you begin, fiddling with your skirt. “Like, we’ve done, y’know, other stuff.” You glance at her shocked face, worry rising. “Don’t tell anyone. Please.”

“Why would I tell anyone something that would literally ruin what’s little is left of your reputation? You wouldn’t let Andy do anything but you’ve been seeing the freak for a few weeks and you’re, what, sitting in his dirty van giving him hand jobs?”

“Oh my god, May!”

“What? What am I supposed to think?”

You shake your head, tense your hands in your clothes. “It’s not like that with Eddie.” Your mind is awash with shiny brown eyes, soft pink cheeks, Eddie’s voice tickling your neck. “I don’t worry about anything, with him. It’s fun.”

“It’s fun.”

“It’s like, I thought sex was something a boy would do to me, something I’d have to let him do. With Andy, it was like if he took me on dates, it was what he would get in return,” you say, fiddling with the blanket. “But with Eddie it’s like,” you hum, hating how awkward this all sounds, so unused to talking about sex yourself, so used to hearing it from other, experienced, confident people. “We go on dates together, and talk together. And then with the, y’know, sexual stuff, we’re doing it…together.”

“But not really doing it, right?”

“No. But my point is,” you continue, grabbing her hand, clasping it in both of yours. “I know I don’t really know anything about boys, and I know you’re not Eddie’s biggest fan. But even though it’s not been long, I think he’s proof that, maybe, sometimes, boys aren’t what either of us thought. And if you really like Liam, then maybe he deserves your forgiveness. But I really, really don’t think he does if he hasn’t made you think twice about what all boys want. And maybe if you found somebody like Eddie-” She makes a face, but you ignore it. “I mean, somebody who doesn’t ask you to forgive them all the time. I think that would be better.”

“Well, I can tell you right now, I don’t want an Eddie.” You press your lips together, listen to her sigh. “But you’re also…probably, maybe right about Liam.”

“He doesn’t deserve you, May. I mean, to apologise when you happened to be at the same bar! If he was really sorry, he should have come to see you with flowers and everything. He probably just saw you, all pretty, and realised what a dunce he’d been.”

She smiles a little at the vitriol in your voice, usually so soft and quiet. “I missed you.”

You almost flinch. “I’ve been here.”

“You stopped sitting with me at lunch.” 

“I…” You close your mouth, shrug instead. 

“I know it’s partly my fault. I was angry, so I stopped defending you. But then, I mean, you just gave up.” 

“I just- Some of the cheer girls are so intimidating, I never know what to say to them.”

“But you don’t try.” Your heart is sore, the guilt of knowing you’ve made life a little more difficult for her. “Listen, if you want to date Eddie Munson, I can be okay with that. I am okay with that.” She nods, seemingly trying to convince herself. “But will you just try, a little more, with the cheer girls? You don’t have to defend your relationship all the time, but maybe just try talking to them about something else? You could come on our next trip!” 

Your toes curl at the thought. “I don’t know.” 

“Please? We can’t let a boy come between us.” You wonder what she’d say if she knew how hard Eddie seems to try not to come between you. “I like Heather, even though she abandoned us. And I like the cheer girls. But I love you. You’re my best friend.”

“I love you, May. It won’t change.”

“So you’ll try?”

You chew the inside of your lip, give her a little nod that has her breaking out into a smile. “Okay. Okay, great.”

You try not to think about exactly what you’ve just compromised on while you finish her make up. May sits, silent and smiling while you sweep dark eyeliner across her lids, brush mascara over her long lashes.

“There, all done.” You love this bit. May turns to the floor length mirror beside you and grins at her reflection, her pretty eyes bordered by soft pastels from your new palette. It sends a warmth through you that you’d never admit to. Knowing you’re good at this, that even the cheer girls who think you’re weird admire the way you’ll do their make up at competitions. “It’s cool, right?”

“I love it,” she breathes, shifting closer to the mirror enough that the warm throw pulls from the tops of your legs, leaving your thighs chilly. “Just one last question. You’re not gonna play that Satanist game, right?”

Your brain short circuits, having thought you’d just agreed that you wouldn’t have to explain yourself. “Um, It’s really not what you think.” 

The scene plays out in your mind. Eddie, his lips on yours, your hands tangled in his hair, letting you tilt your hips to rub yourself over his thigh, suddenly pulled away from you with a gasp. He’d thrown himself from the bed dramatically, holding his open jeans up by the waistband. You’d watched him, breathless and warm, while he scrambled for a pen before writing in his D&D notebook and looking up at you in excitement. “I just thought of a really cool way to lure them into this whole cave thing I’ve been planning. Shit. They’re so fucked.” Before you could consider being offended that that’s what he’d been thinking about while kissing you, your legs were over his shoulders, his lips were smiling at your thigh. 

You can’t help your fond laugh. “Eddie’s such a dork about it. Last week-” You pause at her expression, realising that May probably doesn’t want to hear that story. You clear your throat. “They just pretend to be fantasy characters.” Witches over a cauldron, Princesses sharing a Kingdom. “Like we used to do, sorta.”

“Yeah, when we were kids.”

You have to swallow the lump that brings up to your throat. To hear her dismissal of the time you’ve been daydreaming about since you walked through her front door. “It’s not Satanist.”

“But you’re still not going to play it, right?”

“No,” you say, feeling cold. “I don’t think I’d be very good at it, anyway.”

She watches you for a second, but says nothing before grabbing the eyeshadow palette from the floor beside you. “Let me try, then. Get you all glammed up for making s’mores later.”

You smile with closed lips, let your eyes fall shut. You have to ignore the pang in your heart, the reminder that some things are entirely different from when you were seven. 

❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦

“You know, I kinda thought there’d be more trembling.” Eddie’s breath tickles your ear as he whispers, again when he blows cool air on your neck just to see you wriggle a little while you look up at him, wide eyed. His pale face is illuminated only by the screen at the front of the room, but you can still see the mischief in his eyes, in the barely there turn of his smile. “I was told that taking a pretty girl to a scary movie would have you grabbing my thigh in pure terror. That you’d need me to comfort you with my masculinity.” 

You just about fight off the laugh, still glad that you are sequestered together in the back row when a soft amused noise escapes your throat. On screen, the newly transformed and aptly named Evil Ed laughs maniacally. The special effects and practical make up are impressive, but the whole thing has enough of a teen movie vibe that you’ve been about as scared as you were watching Kevin Bacon stuck on a tractor yesterday. 

“You and your masculinity should have picked a scarier movie.” You feel the flutter of nerves that accompanies teasing Eddie back, still always a little worried that it will come out wrong. The answer of Eddie stifling his laughter, eyes crinkling at the sides, has the butterflies scattering. 

“Noted,” Eddie whispers, cheeks dimpled. It strikes you how close he is now, his breath spreading over your cheeks. He leans down more, his nose at your temple, his lips pressing soft to the skin beside your eye. You shut both, breath shaking as Eddie’s mouth leaves a handful of kisses down your cheek to the corner of your mouth. There, he feels you twitch, and his eyes open to find you tense in your seat, fingers curled in your sleeves. 

You are fighting the urge to turn and check the rest of the row, the whole room, to make sure nobody is watching. The image of an attendant appearing with a flashlight taunts you, the thought of being escorted out of the theatre in shame. You open your mouth, trying to work out what to say, but Eddie just smiles at you. His hand finds yours, fingers tangling together in a gentle squeeze. 

“Sorry,” he whispers, licking his lips quickly. “M’sorry, baby.” 

You watch him lean back in his seat, face set in contentment to be sitting with you and feeling your palm against his. You’d been worried for a second there, that he might be angry with you, or that you might have to explain your worries until he understood. But it’s Eddie. 

You stare at his profile, the soft curls the brush his face, his pouty lips, and find you really, really want to kiss him, here and now. Eddie’s your boyfriend, you remind yourself with a shiver of happiness. Teenage girls have been kissing their boyfriends in the backs of movie theatres since the projector was invented, so why, why, shouldn’t you kiss yours?

You rub at the sleeve of your cardigan with your free hand, letting yourself have the comfort of looking around you quickly to make sure there really isn’t anyone else in this row, or even the one in front. With your eyes closed tight, you remind yourself that the boy who ripped your tickets looked about fifteen, not quite dedicated enough to this job to search the rows looking for kissing teenagers with an invasive flashlight. 

Pressing your knees together, you cuddle into Eddie’s side, smell his two-in-one shampoo and his aftershave and his skin. You press a kiss to his cheek, feel a little scratch of early stubble against your lips. His head turns, eyes scanning over your face. “We don’t have to, sweet thing.”

“I know.” You nod, tilting your chin up in petition. “Please?”

Eddie watches you for a second, giving you time to back out before he leans down to press his lips to yours. It’s a chaste thing; so quick that he has your mouth following him when he pulls away to make sure you’re still happy to kiss him here. Eddie breathes a soft laugh that has your stomach twisting, then his hand is covering your cheek. You feel his breath, your eyes close, and he’s kissing you. 

Eddie’s mouth is warm, but it tastes like blue raspberry slushy; sweet and sharp. At the first lick of his tongue against your lips, you feel a soft noise wanting to escape your throat, but it’s beaten back swiftly by the remaining fear that has your heart racing even as Eddie’s thumb smooths a gentle caress over your cheek. Underneath that is a new giddiness. The feeling that you’ve pushed past something, overcome a fear, however small. And to be doing this, making out with your boyfriend at the back of a movie theatre, like other girls have done.

Your arms find his shoulders, hands clasped together behind him, and Eddie smiles to your lips, just barely pulls away. His thumb stretches to rub your swollen bottom lip. “My brave girl.”

You shiver when he kisses you again, your toes curling in your sneakers. You think you could live on Eddie’s praise. Every pretty girl, smart girl, good girl he gives feels like it’s designed to leave you wanting to crawl onto his thighs, or else sit between them. Eddie’s mouth, intent on yours, wet enough that it feels like the start of something he definitely won’t finish in the back row of screen three, has you remembering how free he can be with his praise when your mouth is on him.

You weren’t expecting to like it so much, but thinking about the weight and taste of him in your mouth makes you squirm as much as the thought of his own tongue where you are most sensitive. You’ve enjoyed it every time since the first moment you spent looking up at him from between his thighs. Watching Eddie fight to keep his eyes on you, mess his own hair up when he forces himself not to take yours in his fist and push you down. His voice, desperate and breathy, coaxing you to try and take him just a little deeper, sweet thing. The quick hot flash of degradation when he taps his cock against your cheek or your tongue before pressing inside.

There is even something pleasant about the lasting ache in your jaw afterwards. The feeling that you’re willing and wanting to do something that hurts to make Eddie feel good is a sick satisfaction you're not yet used to.  

Cinema speakers fill the room with a swelling, dramatic soundtrack. A girl screams, a monster cries out in pain, no doubt making everyone else in the room jump in terror and shake with anticipation for how the whole thing will end. You can hear it, but only just, so firmly in the world of Eddie-Eddie-Eddie. 

Eddie has the beats of the movie memorised already, pulling away from you with a soft gasp just as the opening notes of the music over the end credits begin, a little line of spit connecting your lips until Eddie makes one last move to lick it away. 

The lights come up seconds later, the first groups of people standing to leave. They walk past you and Eddie, both breathless and dishevelled, without a second glance. Under the new lighting, Eddie’s cheeks are now clearly pink. It warms you from the inside out to know that you did that.

You feel the need to be close to Eddie as you leave, grasping onto his hand with both of yours when your jackets are on and he’s guiding you from the theatre. “How’d you like the movie?” He asks in the parking lot, dimples deep in his cheeks.

You hide your face in his arm, feeling that strange new embarrassment crawling up your spine. You mumble into the leather of his sleeve. “I hope nobody asks me how it ends.”

“Yeah, hadn’t thought about that.” Eddie opens the door to his van, holding your hand to help you up until you’re settled in the front seat. He leans in through the door with wide eyes. “Hey, maybe we could see it again next weekend?” 

You chew the inside of your lip. “Would I really see the end if we did?” 

His head falls forward, hair following in a wave. When his head tilts back up, one of his eyes is closed. “You figured me out that easy, huh?”

You smile at each other, Eddie looking over your face as you look over his. His big eyes, dark eyelashes, light freckles, sweet nose, plush pink lips. You’ve never seen another boy you could so comfortably describe as pretty.

You think he might walk round to his side, but instead you feel Eddie’s palm, warm at your knee. “So, uh, the thing is,” he rubs a circle with his thumb at the bottom of your thigh. “It’s Wayne’s day off, and most likely if we go to my place he’ll be in the living room watching MacGyver.”

“Oh.”

You feel guilty for being disappointed. Wayne is always polite, never breathes a word of complaint at the fact you seem to be in his home most days. The only inkling of irritation you get is never at you or Eddie. Instead, there is something in the way he drags himself from the trailer every evening, ready to stay up all night at the factory. When you’d asked where he slept, realising that the only bedroom in the trailer was the one decked out with posters and amps, Eddie had shown you the fold out bed in the living room with a close lipped smile. 

He is, more than anyone, due a day off. But you were gearing yourself up for being in Eddie’s bed tonight, trying to prepare the least awkward way of asking him. 

“And I’m happy to just hang out with you, sweet thing, you know that.” His hand squeezes, even the metal of his rings warm from his skin. “So we can go back to mine and watch MacGyver with the old man, or I could try to teach you some guitar again?” 

That’s tempting, certainly. You doubt sitting between Eddie’s legs with his arms around you, guiding your hands over his acoustic guitar was the most effective teaching method, but you certainly preferred it to any alternative. 

“But if you wanted,” Eddie continues. “Only if you wanted, I could maybe drive us to the quarry or something?” Eddie blinks, tucks some of his hair behind his ear with his free hand. “It’s, uh, quiet.”

Your heart beats a little faster, you can hear the sudden rush of it in your ears. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He asks, in that sweet way of his, wanting to make sure you’re not just acquiescing to everything he suggests. 

“Sounds good, I mean.”

“Okay,” he nods. “Belt on, sweet thing.” He gives your knee one last squeeze while you pull the belt over your front, then pushes away from the frame of the door. He taps a quick rhythm under the window when it’s closed, grins at you through the glass. You watch him jog round to the other side, hair flying out behind him, and wonder if every single thing he does will make you want him more. 

You sit in companionable silence while Eddie drives, feeling that soft comfort you only get with a few people, knowing that he’s not waiting for you to speak. You look out the window, watch the shops and gas stations disperse into houses which in turn give way to trees. All of them appear more as streaks of colour than clear pictures with the way Eddie drives, like he’s being judged on time. 

“Hey, can I play you something?” 

You turn from the window, taking a second to fully register the question before you hum a positive noise. Eddie’s right hand reaches out to turn on the stereo, the sudden attack to your ears of wailing guitar making you jump until he turns it down all the way with a sheepish smile, a murmured, “sorry.”

You watch Eddie’s hand, pale and lithe, as he skips through tracks. The metal chain that adorns his wrist is twisted a little at the leather clasp, and you reach to straighten it out with your thumb and first finger. When he’s found the right track, he turns it back up a touch, wiggles his fingers until you grab his hand. An urgent rhythm fills the van, the tell-tale guitars of all Eddie’s music, and he sighs, leaning back into his seat with a grin. 

“Hear the rime of the ancient mariner, see his eye as he stops one of three, mesmerises one of the wedding guests. Stay here and listen to the nightmares of the sea.”

Something clicks.

“Oh, that’s a Coleridge poem!” You lean forward to turn it up further with your free hand, trying to concentrate on the words. It tells the whole story from the lyrical poem you’ve had a copy of since you took an interest in the romantics when you were fifteen; a mariner who kills an albatross and is blamed for the resulting misfortune by everyone on his ship. 

“I knew you’d know it. My smart girl.” Eddie is the picture of pride, eyes crinkled at the sides. “I was reading a Steve Harris interview - he, uh, writes most of Iron Maiden’s songs? And he mentioned the reference and I just thought, you know, you might think it was cool.”

“I do.” You picture Eddie, soft and comfy in his bed, flicking through a magazine. You imagine him reading about his favourite thing, and a spark lighting in his head relating to you. Something that made him excited to share it with you. “Thank you, Eddie.”

He shrugs, like it doesn’t mean anything, but his cheeks are blooming with pink. You can’t say anything else, for fear of blurting out every thought running through your head. 

You listen in silence, trying to decide how you want to ask him. Every way to say it feels awkward and wrong. Fuck me, take me, have sex with me. You picture asking Eddie to make love and feel a mix of yearning and nausea. By the time you reach the quarry, you have been playing with the ring on Eddie’s right hand, feeling the smooth stone, twisting it round his finger, for a good five minutes.

Eddie steals his hand from you while he parks by the trees opposite the quarry, pulling the keys from the ignition and throwing them on the dashboard before reaching out to let you take hold of his hand again. The easy quiet is gone. You can feel him waiting for you to speak. Your mind screams at you to remain silent, hating the thought that you might risk humiliation with Eddie. 

“Will you look at me, baby?” Eddie pulls your hands from between you. You follow it with your gaze, watch him press a kiss to your knuckles before you meet his eyes. "I really didn't mean to, you know, imply anything by bringing you here."

You shake your head emphatically. “I know. You’d never.”

Eddie breathes a little sigh from his nose, looking relieved. You think he has to be the sweetest boy ever born, and then you can’t help yourself. Eddie makes a soft happy noise when you bring your face to his, lets you kiss his soft bottom lip. He licks softly at yours, so you open your mouth to let him in, holding back a whine and reaching up to play with the collar of his denim vest; the material rough and familiar in your fingers. 

Eddie pulls from you, licks his lips, and breathes, "I can't get enough of that." 

"Mm?"

"The way you grab at me when you get a little shy."

Your eyes widen, processing the reminder that your silly little habits are not as inconspicuous as you might wish to believe. Of course Eddie has noticed the way you fiddle with his hands, his rings, his hair, his clothes, the second you feel an uptick in the pace of your heart. But then, Eddie just said he likes it. 

"S'not annoying?" 

“Not for me! They call me Eddie the stress toy, you know. People used to come for miles around to give me a squeeze."

You laugh at his attempt at an earnest face. "Used to?" 

"Yeah, well, you got exclusive rights, these days." Eddie says, tilting his head with a touch of endearing shyness. “What kinda idiot would I have to be, not to like my girl touching me all over?”

You want him, want him, want him.

You press your heated face to his shoulder, still playing with the frayed denim of his collar while you mumble into the vest. “Eddie?” You feel the vibration of his answering hum against your cheek. “I want-” You shake your head, as if you could bury yourself into his clothes. “Can we-” You turn your face, looking at the seat behind, all the space there. 

Eddie strokes at your waist. “You wanna, uh, get in the back?”

At your quick nod, Eddie clasps your cheek with his warm hand. He tilts your head, kisses you soundly. “Stay right there.” 

Eddie jumps from the van, legs swinging, and jogs round to your side to open the door for you. “Princess,” he says, offering you his hand with a flourish. You giggle, jumping down towards him and letting him lead you round to the back of his van like a gentleman. Still keeping up the routine, he opens the back door and gestures with a bow before helping you up. 

The back is a scene of amps and wires, a bass drum with CORRODED COFFIN scrawled over the skin. Luckily there is space enough for the two of you, so you settle yourself in the middle, surrounded by enough little pieces of Eddie that the back of this van feels a little like home. When you look up, Eddie’s still outside, staring in at you.  

You press your knees together, turn them to the side. “Eddie?”

“Yeah-” his voice breaks. He tries to hide it with a cough, clearing his throat and giving his chest a couple taps with the side of his fist. “Yeah,” he repeats, deeper now, as he climbs up after you. When the doors are closed, Eddie shuffles towards you, half squatting. “So, you’re happy with the carriage, Princess?” You nod, throat tight when Eddie kneels down in front of you. “That’s good.” Something in his face changes, a spark of excitement in his dark eyes. “You wanna lay back for me?” 

The space between your legs pulses. “Mm.”

“Here,” he says, pulling off his jacket and rolling it up into a makeshift pillow. You lean back and he leans in to place it below your head, face above yours while you settle into the soft leather. His hair tickles your cheeks until he tucks it back, staring down at you. Your heart, your body, screams at you, ask him, ask him, ask him. Eddie kisses your neck quickly, shakes his head like he’s emptying out a thought. “Fuck, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had this dream.”

Again, ask him, ask him, ask him.

“Eddie,” you start, mind caught between the worry of how this will go and giving in to the gentle fuzziness of Eddie’s hands rubbing gently at your waist. You swallow, look to his eyes, then his forehead. “Will you-” The words catch, leaving you with a warm face and eyes squeezed closed in embarrassment. 

Eddie hums, gifts your cheeks his lips. His nose brushes the side of your face, and he murmurs. “Anything you want, pretty. Let me hear it, mm? ”

It’s Eddie, you tell yourself. From the first time you spoke to him, he’s never judged you for anything. He won’t judge you now. It’s Eddie, you repeat in your head. My Eddie. 

“I’ve never, um-” Your toes curl at the clear nerves in your voice, the beating of your heart that you swear he must be able to hear. “Nobody’s ever- Mmh.” 

“It’s just me,” Eddie says, thumb at your cheek. “It’s only me, sweet girl. Wanna know what you’re thinking.”

“I think,” you sigh, let some of the nerves out with it. “I think you’re beautiful, Eddie.” He blinks, surprised, but gives you a sweet smile when you touch gently at his pink cheek, feel the beginning of bristle under your finger. “And I want you. I mean, I want you to be first.” And second, and third, and every time after.

You stare at each other, breath heavy in your chest. Eddie’s eyes shine until he blinks it away. “Come- come here,” Even though he says it, he’s the one to lean down to you, giving you a chaste kiss that turns desperate when you reach up to play with his curls. 

Your head swims, relief and anticipation swirling together. A quiet moan escapes you when Eddie’s mouth moves to your jaw, down your neck. “Do you, um, have, like, protection?”

Eddie freezes. His face comes into view, brows furrowed. “Wait. You want me to fuck you right now?”

Oh. You hear the rush of blood in your ears, a ringing noise. You pull your hands from his hair, fingers curling, hands tucked to your chest. You suddenly wish he wasn’t on top of you, wish you could hide your face from him. Your head starts working overtime, supplying all the things he’s no doubt thinking about you now. You think of Erin, writing on the bathroom wall. Slut. Desperate. Whore.

“Hey,” he says, voice soft. Eddie presses his pointer finger to your temple, gives it a playful rub. “Are you doing that thing you said you do? Lying there convincing yourself you’ve fucked something up?”

A little part of you resents that he nailed it down so quickly, but you nod, blinking away the first bubbling tears, staring at the collar of his Metallica shirt rather than his face. “I just thought you’d want to.”

Eddie makes a soft noise at the back of his throat. “C’mere.” He pushes himself up from the floor of the van, grabs your hand to pull you with him. You end up curled at his side, knees just resting on the side of his thigh, his arm tucked around your shoulder as he leans you both against the back of the seats. You pull your sleeves over your hands, fidgety even as Eddie is rubbing at your shoulder softly. 

“Course I want to,” he says, leaning into you. “I wanted you on that picnic table. I want you all the time.”

That soothes you a little, enough that your right hand peeks out from your sleeve to play with the hem of his shirt. But your sensitive heart still throbs, tentative and sore. “So, why…?”

“I- Shit. Give me a minute.” Eddie hugs you tight for a second, then shuffles across the floor of the van, practically launching himself out of the back doors with a practised ease that makes you smile despite yourself. You can’t see him from here, but you hear him outside, the passenger door opening and closing behind you. When he returns, he’s got that metal lunch box he carries around with him. A different kind of confusion blooms when he sits next to you and opens it, rummaging through the little plastic bags of illicit substances. He pulls out a wad of rolled bills, a little chunkier than when you’d bought weed from him in the woods that first day.

“Wanna know what this is for?” Eddie asks, looking unusually serious when you glance at him. He opens his mouth then closes it again, eyes fixing on where he is thumbing at the band holding the bills together. “I thought you might ask me, eventually. Hoped you would, at least.” He breathes a laugh, pings the elastic. “So I’ve been saving up, you know?”

“Saving up?”

Eddie nods, turns his wide gaze to you with a tilted head. “Wanted to take you somewhere nice. Buy you dinner, something other than a burger or a pizza slice. Get a room at a hotel, with a big comfy bed. Thought I could show you-” He twitches, eyes flickering away from your face and back again. He swallows, shrugs. “S’like I said. I wanna deserve you.”

Your tense shoulders slump. Your chest aches. “Eddie,” you whisper, shaking your head. Trying again to blink away tears, you grab the roll of dollars from him, throw it back into that dumb obvious lunchbox. You climb up into his lap and wrap your arms around his shoulders. Your wet eyes meet his. “You don’t have to prove anything. You deserve-” Me, whatever you want, everything. Your fingers twitch. You close your eyes tight, ashamed you can’t look at him when you say it. “I think, all the time, about how much I wish I knew you earlier. It’s like, before, I just spent the whole time missing you.” You find it in you to look at him then, gaze at his pretty face; pink, lightly freckled, shiny under his eyes. “I want you, Eddie. I want to be with you wherever you are.”

You stare at each other, listening to the steady rhythm of your breaths until they move in sequence, chests expanding and contracting together. You get that same feeling you got when Eddie held your hand after touching you for the first time, how he listened when you told him about how you blow out of proportion in your head, the way he was angry for you when you recounted how Andy treated you. When Eddie told you that he couldn’t understand you liking him, that people have held him at arm's length for being too much, that he refuses to give up on school, believes wholeheartedly in his dreams. One moment at a time, you are peeling back layers, exposing soft tissue. You are offering each other all your hidden parts, whispering, please look after this with every squeezed hand and kissed cheek. 

Eddie sniffs, wipes his eyes. Seeing his shaky smile, hearing his wet laugh, is better than any soft bed in any hotel.

“That’s good, cause, uh, I really hadn’t saved that much.” You giggle together through lumped throats. “At the rate I was going, you were gonna be waiting till you were forty-five.” You shake your head at him fondly, reaching up to play with the feathers of hair that brush the side of his face. Eddie pulls you in closer, ducks his chin. “But I still can’t take your virginity in the back of my van, sweet thing,” he says. “It just wouldn’t be right. You should be in a bed, at least. And if you’re happy for it to be mine? I’ll just make sure my sheets are washed.”

You rub the soft ends of his hair between your fingers. “That sounds nice.”

“Yeah?” His hand comes to your cheek, helping you look at him. He must be able to feel the warmth of your face in his hand, but you lean into his palm anyway. When Eddie kisses you, it’s a gentle thing, a promise. 

When his tongue peeks out to lick into your mouth, it’s a request you’re happy to fulfil. Eddie groans at the taste of you, the sound of it registering across your whole body. Your hips roll subtly, and you feel the quirk of his lips. 

Eddie sighs into your mouth. “My pretty girl wants me to fuck her in my bed, mm?” 

The increasingly familiar zing of pleasurable shame zips up your spine. The air around you shifts, crackling like the split second of awareness before an electric shock. “Yeah, Eddie.” 

“But you need to be touched right now. So desperate,” he murmurs, the word that had mocked you minutes ago, now a warm tease. “So desperate you wanted to take my cock for the first time right here. In my van, parked by the side of the road.”

You shake your head, because you’re not really at the side of the road. Eddie was right when he said it’s quiet; nobody comes here. You’re about as likely to be found by the quarry as you are in his room. Eddie’s eyes light up with dark amusement, his hand drifting to the back of your neck. The pressure of his fingers there makes your hips twitch, your body recognising the signs, the promise of what’s to come when Eddie’s palm starts holding your head up. 

“No?” He asks, tilting his head, a teasing pout finding his pink lips. “You sayin’ I didn’t hear your right?”

Your toes curl. “No.”

The lines that run from the sides of Eddie’s nose to the corners of his lips deepen. “No, I did hear you right?”

“Eddie,”

“Ahh, yeah,” he breathes, wrapping an arm around your waist to help you lie back. He reaches out for his jacket, still rolled up on the floor, and places it back under your head. “That’s the good stuff.” You open your legs for him, let him settle his body on top of you, feeling the hardening length of him through denim and cotton at the apex of your thighs. Eddie licks his lips, tucks his hair back with a breathy laugh. “Shit. You got me thinking about it, now.”

Eddie sinks his face to your neck, the warm sting of his tongue making the mess between your legs increasingly hard to ignore. His big hand pulls at the hem of your skirt, lifting it up to your tummy. He glances down your body, eyes closing tight at the pale blue cotton cupping your mound, dark and sticky where it’s soaked up your wetness. “Wanna feel your little pussy on my cock so fucking bad. I can’t tell you how-” He cuts off a groan at the first run of his fingers over the wet material. “Christ. How many times I’ve thought about it.” 

You blink at him slowly, mind drifting into the calm of knowing Eddie’s going to make sure you both feel good. Your hips tilt naturally, helping him rub the curve of his finger over your clit through soaked cotton, then wiggling to help him more when his fingers hook into the elastic to pull them down your legs. Once they’re past your sneakers, he holds them in his hand for a second, rubbing his thumb along their centre. When you tilt your hips, pussy barely catching the rough denim over his crotch, his nostrils flare. “Don’t distract me, I’m holding precious cargo.”

He seems to settle on where to put them, draping the cotton over the top of one of the amps rather than letting them touch the floor. You giggle at his careful consideration, and Eddie’s dimples press into flushed cheeks. 

“You thought about it?” Eddie asks, watching your face when his thumb sweeps over your clit, noting the sensitivity before he starts up with tight circles that have you keening. “Thought about me inside you?”

He has to feel the new wetness between your legs that comes with your desperate nod. In truth, you’ve thought about it almost endlessly. You know it can hurt, have heard enough stories of virginity loss from the girls at the cheer table to know that it probably will. But when you imagine being close to Eddie that way, the only thing you can conjure up is the feeling of his fingers inside, how much further you’d have to stretch to take Eddie’s cock, the one that makes your jaw ache. Maybe the prospect should give you pause, but thinking about how Eddie would guide you through it sends excited shivers down your spine.

“Yes, Eddie.”

“You wanna feel my cock now?” He breathes, watching confusion flicker over your blissed face. “Know you like riding your pillow, sweet thing,” he says, your face hot at the memory of telling him how you masturbate. “But I think you might like rubbing up on me a little better.” 

Your clit twitches. You clench inside. Eddie either feels or sees the reaction of your body because he’s humming in excitement the next second, leaning down to kiss you, press his tongue to yours until you’re groaning into his mouth. He looks a little manic when he pulls away, hands scrambling with his belt when he throws himself to the side, lying on his back, ready for you to climb up on him. 

Without thinking, your hands catch his, stopping him from pulling at the loop. You squeeze his palms. “Let me?”

In answer, he moves his hands from his jeans, letting them rest flat across his stomach. You bite your lip, fighting the urge to sit on his thigh and grind against the denim just to get some instant relief. You reach out to the side of his head, grab his jacket and slide it to the back of his head. Eddie tilts his head up, lets you position it just so. You check, “comfy?” and he nods. 

Satisfied, you return to Eddie’s belt. The action of pulling at the leather is excitingly familiar to you now. The button of his jeans comes next, then his zip humming as you pull it down. His boxers are a soft check, the waistband positioned just under the first tufts of dark hair that lead to where Eddie is filling out the material. You think about his hands teasing your clit through your panties, mimicking him by brushing a knuckle over the mound peeking out from his zipper. It’s enough to make Eddie’s eyes squeeze shut, his fingers twitch. 

You hook your fingers into the elastic, start pulling them down. Eddie sighs in relief when his cock meets the air, hard enough to rise from his underwear the second he’s free. You imagine the stretch of him again, and clench down on emptiness. Eddie’s cock is a pretty pink all over. The furled skin at the top is a little shiny, and you know if you grasped his cock and pulled that skin back, his head would be wet with excitement. 

The thought strikes to just lean down and take him in your mouth, surprised to find that that’s already something of a comfort zone for you. But your clit throbs like it’s protesting, so you shuffle on your knees, feeling the sticky spread of your cunt when you open your legs to bracket his hips. You reach down, let yourself stroke Eddie’s cock just to hear the soft noise it draws out from his throat. You rub your thumb over that sensitive spot below his head, press his cock down until his length rests over the hair above it and the bottom of his soft tummy. 

With your free hand, you drift your hand between your legs, letting your fingers drift over your clit. You make a V with your fingers at the top, splitting your cunt open for him and feel a bone deep certainty that Eddie is the only person who could watch you doing this without real shame casting its shadow. 

“C’mon,” Eddie says, getting impatient. “Sit on it, use my cock how you want, just let me feel you.” 

Nodding, body instinctively wanting to follow his direction, you settle yourself on his cock. Eddie groans at the warm slick that surrounds him, hands immediately moving to your hips to help guide you. Your entrance flexes at the base of him, and he tries to pull you straight down like he could find more space between your lips for his girth. “Jesus Chri-”

Eddie’s words cut off with a choke when you glide yourself forward, hearing your wetness spread along his dick. You whine at the feeling, Eddie’s cock stimulating not just your twitchy button but your soft, clenching hole. Shifting back, your legs twitch when his head, exposed as the surrounding skin is pulled back by the clasp of your lips, catches just right against your clit. A few more blissful drags, and you are whining, hands flat against Eddie’s chest, fingers pulling at the softness of his shirt. 

You wiggle your hips, close to hysteria at how good it feels to have Eddie this close. Eddie grins up at you, the pride on his face making you all the more desperate. He looks overwhelmingly pretty like this, hair fanned out across his jacket, lips wet and swollen from his constant licking and your own kisses. His neck, as blushed as his face and his cock, is exposed and tense. His dark eyelashes that flutter every time his head drags over your clit and emerges from between your lips. His eyes, dark in the centre where his pupils have swallowed up mahogany, flicker back and forth between your face and where his cock vanishes and appears again, enveloped and released by the wet split of your pussy.

“You feel me now, mm?” He says, sounding hurried like he’s trying to get it out before his voice is swallowed up by groans. “Haven’t even taken three of my fingers, but you thought you could just lie back and take my cock?” You bounce a little when his head flicks your clit this time, torturing the swollen button with him a little longer. “Couldn’t’ve done it right, not how my desperate girl needs it. Just wanna make you feel good, you know?” 

“Feels good,” you murmur, wiggling your hips to feel his cock flex and shift over all the tender skin where you are most sensitive. “You always feel so good, Eddie.”

“Yeah? That’s it, that’s it.” Eddie’s fingers dig into your hips, no doubt leaving you with marks that will be satisfyingly tender by morning. “Fuck. Fuck, baby, I love you-r pretty voice.” He swallows, eyes now fixed on your pleasured face. “Love when you talk to me.” 

“Eddie, m’gonna-” You start to shake, and his hands grab at your hips, helping you keep moving along him even as the stimulation edges towards painful. 

“That’s it, cum on me. Let me feel it.”

Your body spasms, letting yourself move only with Eddie’s pushing and pulling as the throb of your clit spreads through your body, sends tingles up your spine. You feel your clit numb for a second, know enough now about your own body what that means for the intensity of your orgasm. You sit on that precipice, gasping in air. 

Pleasure bursts, has you shaking and moaning and, unbeknownst to you, repeating, “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” while the boy beneath you chases his own high, wanting to finish before you’re too oversensitive to keep your perfect warm pussy on him. 

Bending his knees, he grinds up into you, helping you slide along him. When he pulls your hips just so, and the tip of him barely catches the soft entrance of your cunt, Eddie finally cries out beneath you. The almost violent twitch of his cock between your legs makes you squirm, picturing that happening inside you. Eddie’s cum, thick and white, lands across his stomach in droplets, the last rope clinging to the tip of his cock in a way that, shamefully, makes your mouth water.

Sensitive, twitching, you rise from his body. Your shaking thighs fail you almost immediately, and you fall back on your butt between his open legs, a hand coming to cover your stimulated pussy like it needs protection. Eddie sits up, wipes his own hand across his stomach and draws his cum into his mouth with an ease that might surprise you if you hadn’t seen Eddie casually taste his own cum just about every time he’s orgasmed in front of you. 

This is what you meant, when you told May that being with Eddie is fun. Sex has always been something with disclaimers attached. Something to be enjoyed, but not too much. Something to get lost in, but not enough that you cross the line into acting slutty. It seemed to you like a tightrope nobody had shown you how to walk. 

And then there’s Eddie, who just watched you cum so hard on top of him that you immediately fell on your ass, and he’s grinning at you like he’s never been so proud of anyone in his life. “Now tell me that wasn’t way better than your pillow.” He reaches out for you, and you let him pull you into his arms, rest your head against his chest. You watch, warm in your face, while he tucks his softening cock, still covered in you, back into his boxers. “You feel okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod, tracing the blue lines of lightning on his shirt with your finger. Your thighs twitch again, and you laugh together, soft and breathless. You settle into that post high afterglow, letting yourself be comforted by how surrounded by Eddie you are. His arm around you, his chest under your head. You can hear the way his heartbeat shifts from an intense rhythm to a steady beat under your ear. There’s another sudden uptick just before he speaks.

“I was missing you, too.”

You shift, look up at him from his chest, find him staring at the ceiling. 

“Sometimes my life has felt like being dealt one bad hand after another.” His gaze shifts then, eyes finding yours. “Now, I think, maybe I was saving up for something really good without realising.” 

Eddie Munson; town freak, rumoured Satanist, bad news for sweet girls like you, on the floor of his van, arms wrapped tight around you, says; “You’re a lifetime of good luck, sweetheart.”

And then you know. 

Next Part

[toyybox]

Spiderwebs #41: Magnum Opus

Masterlist

content: lab whump, needles (blood draw), immortal whumpee

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

“I’m certain that, with a few more years of research, I could discover why your body doesn’t kill it off. If I figure that out—“ She didn't finish that thought. “But there’s no guarantee. That’s only if everything goes according to plan.”

“I’m sure it will,” he said.

They were in the laboratory again. He was sitting in her office chair, as he always did, and she brought a folding chair up from the kitchen. There were peaches for breakfast. Jackie mentioned that he wanted to eat them a few days ago. He was surprised that she remembered. It snowed again the night before, and the morning was less sunny than usual. Gray clouds painted the sky instead. He wondered if it would storm.

“I should write a paper about this,” she said suddenly. “I will write a paper. These notes are practically incoherent.”

"You can’t publish it, though, can you?”

“I can’t publish it. It would be nice if I could, but I would also have to explain how I met you.”

Yes, that little detail. “What are you going to name it?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I always get someone else to come up with the titles. I suppose we’ll need to name the organism, too. You should name it.”

“I don't have any ideas."

“Neither do I. We can think of one later. I’ll start writing soon. Though, I do want to ask you a few questions first.” Hence, Heather was holding her journal and a pen. “Have you ever experienced issues with your immune system?”

“No.”

“Do you recall anything abnormal about your birth? Anything at all? Even if it seems small, tell me. We’re grasping at straws here.”

“No, it was normal.” 

She wrote these findings down. “And I assume you never experienced any sort of… I don’t know, rare event? Nothing in your life that could have caused this?”

“Not really.”

“Then I presume it’s an innate condition, ever since you were born.” She set the journal and pen down on a table. “But you can’t be the only person with this organism. The species couldn’t possibly become this far developed in a single host. There must be other immortals out there, somewhere, whether they’re aware of it or not.”

"If you're right about the parasite thing, then I guess it’s possible. Maybe we’ll find someone like that."

“I wouldn’t mind having a larger control group. By the way, I did a complete blood count…” Her tone shifted to an air of professional curiosity, and Jackie recognized that she was about to lecture him about some new discovery she found. “On the blood samples from when you were starving. I noticed average levels of red blood cells and hemoglobin, but the platelet levels were slightly higher than normal. Platelets are there to—“

“Wait, I know this one. They clot blood.”

“Exactly.” She nodded. “They create clotting. But I barely saw any white blood cells. Even in healthy samples, oddly enough. There’s more organisms in your bloodstream instead. They take the job of killing infections, like I told you. I also noticed what seemed to be eggs in your veins.”

“Really? Eggs?” Though Jackie had mostly detached himself from all these biological miracles, he still felt some discomfort at this idea.

“It’s what’s keeping you alive, so I suppose it can’t be helped. There was an excessive number of organisms, actually. They reproduce faster when the host is unhealthy. I believe that’s what gave your blood that dark, viscous quality.”

“There’s really no way to get them out?”

“If you find one, let me know.” Out of the blue, she picked her journal up again, clicked her pen open. “Actually, I wanted to ask—have you ever donated blood before?”

“No.”

“Interesting.” She wrote this down. “Your blood is O positive. I tested it earlier. You could hypothetically transfer it to about seventy percent of the population. The organism doesn’t survive in foreign organic matter, so there’s no adverse effects. It would be worthwhile to test it in a living human body, though. My blood is B negative, unfortunately, so I haven’t been able to try it out.”

“And B negative doesn’t mix with the positive types, right? That’s why you can’t test it?”

“Right.”

He remembered that much from his scarce education, if nothing else. Jackie always felt a little lost when she spoke of such concepts. What a complete blood count was, he had no idea. He didn’t want to ask her and interrupt.

“It’s honestly absurd,” she continued. “It’s such an extreme case of specialization. As far as I’ve seen, at least. I still don’t know how it would react to dehydration…”

“I would rather not,” he interrupted. “If that’s possible.”

“No, it’s alright. I understand if you’re not up for it. I…” She closed the journal, gently. “I feel like these tests are too harsh, sometimes. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, but…”

"I'm okay. It's for science."

“That’s good to hear.” Her conflicted expression was gone at once. 

And he was okay. He had been allowed everything he could ever want… well, almost everything, with some heavy restrictions, but he could settle for that. There wasn't any reason to rock the boat. It had been a peaceful few weeks, all things considered.

Heather glanced at her watch. "Would you look at that? You've been here for an hour, and you're still alive. It appears that my experiment is going very well."

Jackie was, in fact, currently hooked up to a blood bag in Heather’s laboratory. A needle inserted into his arm drained his blood through a clear, thin tube. The sight of so much of his own blood would have made him nauseous, once, but this rich scarlet was now a familiar color. It was a more sanitary method of bloodshed, at least, and relatively painless. 

So far, he had filled up about nine bags. Jackie was not a scientist, but he was fairly certain that wasn’t a normal amount of blood to extract. The bags were arranged on the table, weighed down by the gravity of all that heavy red liquid, entire pints of it sagging at the seams. Heather set about removing the tenth one.

“How many liters is that, doc?” He asked.

“About five.” She slid the needle out of his arm, before applying a band-aid over the gap left behind. “Most people would have died by now.”

He watched her unhook the bag from its thin steel stand. “What are you going to do with all that blood?”

“It’s too complicated to explain.” She forced a juice box into his hand. “Drink that. Your blood sugar must be through the floor. Are you feeling lightheaded?”

“A little.”

She forced a package of biscuits into his other hand. “Nauseous?”

“No.” He regarded the biscuits with suspicion. “I’m not hungry.”

“Keep it, at least. Eat when you feel up to it.” She placed the tenth blood bag onto the table. “You know, you don’t have much of an appetite lately.”

“I guess.” Hunger was a point of contention. But he was starting to feel thirsty, oddly enough. He stabbed the plastic straw through the juice box. 

“Yes, ever since…” She paused. But she carried on without a second thought, as if she had never mentioned it at all. “I do wonder where all this blood is coming from.”

Now that his arm wasn’t attached to the needle, he could move it freely. He shook his wrist out for a few seconds. “Hey, where’d you learn all this stuff, anyway? Harvard?”

He said it as a joke, but she replied, “Harvard? Don’t insult me like that. I studied somewhere reputable, thank you.” 

“Somewhere reputable.” He wasn’t sure what that would even entail. Nicer jars for their organ collections, maybe. “What did you get? A PhD?”

“Yes, a doctorate. Did you study anywhere?”

“Nowhere, really. I graduated high school, but I didn’t do anything after that. I just started working.” 

He had never seen his education as a priority. When the police took him in... anyway, they had him in and out of the hospital, then sent him to a couple different homes, and that didn't leave any time for him to care about school. He wanted to study language, if he could, but he didn't think that was possible anymore.

Besides, it was expensive. He could barely scrape together the cash for rent. Getting work as a waiter had been incredibly lucky, in hindsight.

“So you didn't receive further education,” she said. “I assumed as much.”

“You assumed right. I’m not that smart.”

“Well, I don’t know about that. I’ve taught you a few things.” She leaned back in her chair. “Natural talent doesn’t count for anything, you know. There’s a brilliant mind born every day that goes to waste. That’s not enough to get you anywhere. It’s about perseverance and discipline, in the end.”

And a lot of money, he thought tartly. That wasn't Heather's fault, though, and she really was good at what she did. He decided to just let her talk. She could be quite talkative, actually, once she got started.

"I can tell you’re irritated,” Heather said.

“I’m not,” he said. “Continue, please.”

“You don’t have to lie. It's obvious. You should know I appreciate your presence. Even if I don’t express it very well.”

“Yeah, you don’t.”

“I don’t. I can be… harsh. But I meant it. I just can’t say it like you do. I’m terrible at that.”

That was true, despite all her other talents.

“You're my crowning jewel,” she said. “My—my magnum opus, even. But you’re also my friend. You’re the only person I care about.” 

“I know that.”

And he couldn’t hold grudges, when she spoke that way. It was all so stilted, so artlessly sincere. For once, the words were slow and careful, purely meant for him. He had already forgotten the rest of their conversation.

She fell silent. It seemed as though she had been distracted by something.

He looked up at her. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you ever want to leave?” she asked.

"Do I have a choice?"

“No.” She searched his expression intently. "You don't."

He stared back with the same intensity. "Then stop asking me stupid questions."

She didn’t move away, and for a moment she was completely still. Her gaze lingered, as dark as night, burning like distant fires. Maybe that was the wrong thing to say. 

It didn’t matter. She knew he wasn’t going anywhere. Perhaps that was for the best. His circumstances had always been difficult, but he used the cards he was given the best he could. He would be happier this way. Playing his role until the bitter end.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Taglist:

@theelvishcowgirl @lthrboy @whumpy-wyrms

@yassifiedinformation @creppersfunpalooza

@vidawhump @dont-look-me-in-the-eye

[nayanogs]

mha boys and their singing voices! includes: tenya iida, denki kaminari, hanta sero, hitoshi shinsou, neito monoma tw: none requested: no a/n: anddd we're back! prob gonna post every 3-4 days depending on requests, speaking of requests THEY ARE ALWAYS OPENNN

tenya iida is.. what everyone expects? - another uncontrollable vibrato person smh (I hate baritones) - it doesn't sound BAD it's just.. why are you singing anaconda with a full chest belt and hand signals - JK.. but in all seriousness he's very.. stuck? with his voice. - never tries riffs or anything that is in the higher or lower part of his range. probably doesn't even know what his range is because he never pushes himself - which is CRAZYYY bc he is literally mister pusher.. but when it comes to singing he unintentionally shuts himself in a box - with all that being said he's definitely a joy to have around during karaoke because he WILL give the performance of his life whilst throwing up his choppy hand signals like gang signs. denki kaminari is like the bi male chappell roan or something - tenor through and through but was too embarrassed to sing high and then decided that life is short and shame is stupid - SCREECHES. - he has SO MUCH POTENTIAL but doesn't take singing seriously at all (unless it's anything to do with jiro) - he really just likes to make people laugh and if he did theatre he'd probably end up with some funny role - discovered vibrato and thought he was dying and went to recovery girl, came back and told everyone he was diagnosed with talent - nobody laughed - range is more high since he talks like a gay pop icon (SORRY) and is OBSESSED with growling but always fails and has a voice crack hanta sero does NOT sing in Spanish and if you think that ihy - i'm a proud hater of the hispanic sero thing.. nah that boy is italian through and through and we can fight to the death idc - you know that song "i'm dreeeaming of a whiiite christmass" he sings that song at literally any opportunity and he's SO GOOD AT IT?? - weirdly obsessed with holiday songs.. and it's the only ones he's good at too LMAO - never belts and always uses chest voice.. one time he hit the top of his register and accidentally switched to falsetto and thought he had a voice crack - sings with MINIMAL vibrato all the time. you can BARELY hear it and he has no idea he's doing it - his range isn't anything crazy but he also doesn't sound like you can just define him as a tenor or a baritone or bass.. he's kinda good doing anything - not any insane high notes like midoriya. he has legit walked out on a duet with him because he was NOT about to embarrass himself hitoshi shinsou nervously laughs and pushes away the mic when it's shoved toward him, but when he finally picks it up.. - doesn't really like singing any particular genre but his voice is like.. - ryan mccartan.. as JD in heathers.. THAT'S how he sings - it's kinda comical because he adds all these little sassy facial expressions but he sings about death or quirk discrimination and then everyone gets all sad - seems like he has performance anxiety but really doesn't give a fuuuck - pretty decent at riffing but hates doing it because denki cheers extra loud and it embarrasses him - STRONGGG falsetto, he plays guitar in his bedroom and all bedroom guitar players have a strong falsetto - never ever practices ever bc he truly dgaf (unbothered king) - range DEF on the lower side, like on the line of baritone and bass which sounds SO good when he plays guitar UGHSDKFJ i bet y'all thought i was gonna forget neito monoma... - this man is a STARR - DEFINITELY was a theatre kid (he literally wanted to do a musical/play for the festival) so he's got those vocals downn - absolutely refuses to use falsetto because his is super weak and just sounds a little funky from all of his belting - the facial expressions, the body language.. he puts his whole monussy into this shit.. - him and midoriya would be SUCHH a power duo during karaoke but that never happens LMAO he's too up in his head about himself - high

[ezziefae]

Thoughts on Chap 2 of The Prisoner's Throne.

"Oak takes the stairs, careful now. He has the surreal feeling of being in a video game. He played enough of them, sitting on Vivi’s couch. Creeping through pixelated rooms that had more of the appearance of Madoc’s stronghold where he grew up than anywhere they went in the mortal world. Leaning on Heather’s shoulder, controller in his hands. Killing people. Hiding the bodies."

Okay, starting off strong already. I squealed when I read the part where Oak has his head leaning on Heather's shoulder. The "Killing people. Hiding the bodies" part was an obvious reference to Oak's blood thirst.

This is a stupid, ugly, violent game, Vivi said. Life isn’t like that. And Jude, who was visiting, raised her eyebrows and said nothing.

JUDEEEEEE

a few selkies hang around at the edges, no doubt gathering news of a rising power to take back to the Undersea.

These selkies are snitches. Holly did confirm that we were gonna see many familar faces from TFOTA, so I am definitely expecting to see Nicasia or Orlagh.

But after he and Vivi and Heather had to carry bags of laundry to the basement of their apartment building and feed quarters into a machine, along with detergent and fabric softener, he realized that someone must have been performing a related service for him in Faerie.

AWEEEE! how humble Oak has become. I'm so happy we're not only getting more Jude and Cardan but also Vivi and Heather.

He feels a bit foolish as he wades into a vat, naked. Should he be discovered, he will doubtless have to play the silly, carefree prince, so vain that he escaped his prison for a bath. It would be a crowning achievement of embarrassment.

LMAO! I can just imagine how hilarious this would be.

Oak knows it’s ridiculous, and yet he can’t help feeling as though they have an understanding of each other

Oak had the bridle placed on him, he was imprisoned for three weeks, he was starved and neglected, and he still thinks this way of Wren. This boy is soooo in love.

Nor is he sure what it means about him that he finds hope in the fact that Wren has kept him. Fine, not everyone would see being thrown into a dungeon as a romantic gesture, but he’s choosing to at least consider the possibility that she put him there because she wants something more from him.

Oak is absolutely DELUSIONAL, DE LU LUUU. LIKE BOY FINDS BEING IMPRISIONED A ROMANTIC GESTURE. THAT IS VERY CONCERNING. IM CRYING

since Hyacinthe was the one who stole Damsel Fly

NO! NOT DAMSEL FLY TOOO! Oh a war is definitely coming.

Hyacinthe is now Wren’s second-in-command

oh this will not be a fun discovery for Tiernan.

Either way, he’d be free. Free to not need rescuing. Free to attempt to talk his sister out of whatever homicidal plan she might foment against the Citadel. Free to return home and go back to performing fecklessness, back to sharing the bed of anyone he thought might be planning a political coup, back to being an heir who never wants to inherit.

The way Oak believes he can talk Jude out of battling with Wren. Like does he not know his sister?

"Back to sharing the bed of anyone he thought might be planning a political coup" WHATTT!!! okay this is a huge deal, Oak has been sleeping with people to find out if they are a threat to him or elfhame. My poor boy, does oriona not watch over him??? or jude?? how did it get so bad that he had to start doing that???

Not that he knows how to stop either of them if he remains here. He’s not sure anyone knows how to stop Jude. And Wren has the power of annihilation. She can break curses and tear spells to pieces with barely any effort. She took apart Lady Nore as though she were a stick creature and spread her insides over the snow.

Yeah so when I finished The Stolen Heir, I feared for Jude and Cardan. Oak is right, Jude is dangerous and she will try to fight ANYTHING that gets in her way, but Wren is horrifically dangerous as well. I fear for both Jude and Wren. This is gonna be chaos.

Then he sees Wren, and longing shoots through him like a kick to the gut. He forgets about risk. Forgets about schemes.

OH OAKKK STOPPPPP.

“Not my future.” There is a hollowness to Wren’s cheeks, Oak notices. She’s thinner than she was, and her eyes shine with a feverish brightness. Has she been ill? Is this because of the wound in her side when she was struck by an arrow?

Oh no.

Bogdana does not contradict her this time. “You have need of my strength. And you have need of my companions if you hope to continue as you are.” Oak stiffens at those words, wondering at their meaning.

so wren is not doing so well, and bogdana hope she listens and gets help from her companions. the real question here is what is the problem?????

Mother Marrow does not seem discomfited in the least. She walks to Wren and deposits the white walnut in her hand. “Remember these words, then. To conjure it, say: We are weary and wish to rest our bones. Broken shell, bring me a cottage of stones.”

So wren can make a cottage appear and dissaper with the shell she received from mother marrow. Im assuming that this shell will be used in the story somehow. But what would get to that point? wren already lives in a palace of her own, so why give her a shell that can make a cottage house appear? will Oak use it when he escapes? will wren run away and use it???? im guessing this cottage house will be used significantly.

And yet, Oak notices that she sways a little before gripping the arm of her throne. Forcing herself upright. Something is very wrong.

Yikes.

The man steps forward. “Though I do not like to be outdone, I have nothing so fine to give you. But Bogdana summoned me here to see if I can undo what—”

So from what I'm getting, there's something more about wren we don't know about. something that's hurting her or affecting her deeply. Her power? stress and anxiety? I might need some time to crack this one.

Her eyes move restlessly under their lids, as though she doesn’t even feel safe in dreams. Her skin has a glassy quality, as though from sweat or possibly ice. What has she been doing to herself ?

I'm starting to feel very overprotective of Wren. With Jude and Cardan coming to the citadel to save Oak I fear for both sides.

But as though she can sense him, Wren opens her eyes.

SERIOUSLY THIS IS HOW THE CHAPTER ENDS??? At this point Oak is asking to be killed, he could've had the oppurtunity to escape, yet he chose to follow wren to her room. This chapter made me feel very empathetic of Wren, she looks like a villain, but she's really not. She has been betrayed, tortured, abused, neglected for many years, her actions of becoming queen and imprisoning Oak all come from hurt.

[perpetualexistence]

Total Drama Fic Rec Week Day 6: Favorite Romance

It's time for romance! Many in fact because I'm horrible at chosing specific ones I like! Trust me though, this is my abridged version of favorites.

Most of it is variations of Alenoaheather because I'm going to spread my agenda one way or another. But hey, I put a Zemma fic in there to mix things up!

I'm also still one for dark fics, in this case toxic relationships. I've included them but once more I've separated them in case that doesn't suit your fancy.

Definite Proof by courtney-deserved-better: Zee is finally ready to confess to Emma, but first has to find her. It's part of a Reboot cast High school AU, though reading the other parts aren't necessary. Though I do highly recommend it. Also, the summary contains the phrase 'And Axel has been waiting for someone to let her use them as a human javelin.' What more could you want?

c'mon, c'mon and love me normally by alphaclown @xxalphaclownxx: A Noaheather oneshot where Noah and Heather dance in a masked masquerade. It does a phenomenal job of setting up an atmosphere of teasing and getting caught in the moment with little dialogue needing to be said.

Astronomy in Reverse; It Was Me Who Was Discovered by HenkePenke: An astronomer Noah catches the eye of two minor gods. Alenoaheather that's a god AU, which I don't think there's enough of in the TD fandom.

Meet-Ugly by HenkePenke: Noah goes on a walk with his dog and runs into two new people. Literally. Alenoaheather first meeting fluff featuring Noah's dog being a matchmaker.

Toxic Relationship Fics

The Clearing by cloudyskiies: Noah stumbles into a circle of mushrooms and meets a guy who's off putting, though he can't quite figure out how. Has Alejandro as an old school fae. Think a Meet-Cute gone horribly wrong. It's a great premise and a fascinating read. Contains obsession and possessiveness.

breathe you in my lungs and make you mine by @kijosakka: An Alenoaheather oneshot where Noah's ability to pick apart Alejandro and Heather has them become very interested in him. Obsessively so. It's a riveting exploration of what it would take to lead people to the point of obsession. It's got obsession, possession, and oh so much codependency.

@totaldramaficrecweek

[tropical-lycan]

The Foxhole Camp (All for the Game slasher movie AU)

BIG UPDATE : Some concepts art are out you can find them on my Tumblr account! ALSO CHAPTER 1 IS OUT

AND WE GOT AN OFFICIAL PLAYLIST

WARNING -> Spoilers for All for the Game trilogy and dark themes (horror)

I GOT SO INSPIRED BY THIS FANART BY @kururusti, the horror atmosphere coming from that fanart gave me literal chills, I love it.

I just had a crazy idea : what if AFTG wasn't about sports and mafia, but was a 1980s/90s slasher horror movie?

I thought of this because when I was younger I went to a French Summer Camp called "La Renardière" (literally meaning something close to "The Foxhole") and also because I'm a big fan of classic horror movies taking place in summer camps, such as Friday the 13th and Sleepaway Camp.

So, my plot idea is that in this universe, all of the Foxes are not sports player, but summer camp councelors, and they have to take care of kids. And Neil's dad is a slasher coming after them (let's keep his nickname "The Butcher", it's perfect for a slasher).

My plot idea is that Neil is the son of a murderous man (who is not a mafia boss in this version, he's just some crazy dude with an axe) and he ran away with his mother because the Butcher tried to kill them (think of movies like The Shining). They're still on the run because the Butcher really wants to finish the job (not sure why tho I have to think more about it). Like in the original story, Neil's mother gets killed and he is still chased by Nathan. One day the Butcher attacks him in the forest and leaves him to die (well I guess Nathan thought he had killed Neil or something like that, but he was just badly injured and survived). The councelors of the Foxhole Camp find him wounded in the forest while doing camp activities with the kids and decide to take care of him. Wymack who is the person running the camp offers him a job there after he recovers from his injuries (and I 100% imagine Andrew taking care of his wounds ❤️‍🩹). The Butcher will somehow discover that Neil isn't dead and he will try to murder all of them.

Now I'll do a quick summary of how I imagine each character's role with pictures from horror movies to illustrate the vibe (I might do my own concept arts later!!).

Note that the gifs I picked are NOT actor headcanons, it's mostly characters or concepts that inspired my ideas. I'll give the name of each movie/TV show if you're interested.

Also, I forgot to mention, but I imagine this AU taking place in the 80s, with a similar vibe/aesthetic to Stranger Things.

NEIL JOSTEN

(gif is Tommy Jarvis from Friday the 13th)

As I said, the Butcher was originally after Neil, meaning that in that AU he has the role of the Final Girl. Well...Final boy? Let's say final babygirl. He is the character who knows the killer personaly and has a deep childhood history with them (like Laurie Strode from the Halloween saga). Like in the original, he is very secretive and pretends to be someone else because he is afraid his father might find out that he is still alive. He becomes a camp councelor with the other Foxes and loves to play Exy with the kids (Exy still exists in that AU as part of the camp activities). I also imagine that he has no clue how to take care of kids and is still oblivious af. I mean...imagine that guy looking after children it's the funniest thing ever. I'm sure a lot of them ask him about how he got his scars.

At first he doesn't tell the Foxes what really happened to him and pretends he was attacked by a wild animal.

ANDREW & AARON MINYARD

(gif is JD from the Heathers movie, and yes...Heathers kinda is a horror movie???)

Okay maybe I was wrong when I said Neil taking care of kids would be the funniest thing...ANDREW DOING THAT IS EVEN FUNNIER. I kinda imagine him to be like a councelor helping Abby Winfield in the Infirmary (and yeah he steals meds and alcohol). He still has his dark and mysterious vibe (and I kinda imagine him dressing in a similar fashion to JD from Heathers, hence my gif choice). He would also be the guy suspected to be the killer (like Eddie Munson in Stranger Things 4), because he still has his mental health issue in that version. I also think it would be interesting to keep the backstory he has with Aaron and their mother, except they end up in a summer camp and not in an Exy team (it makes even more sense for people to think that he is the killer because of the rumors he killed his mom). Most of the kids find him terrifying, but i'm sure most of them see him as a rockstar or living urban legend. As in the books, he really doesn't give a fuck about his job. He will also be the one to discover Neil's secret, and I want a scene where he directly fights with the Butcher. I also imagine a cute romantic scene where Neil and him will go swimming in the lake at night (i'll probably make a fanart of this <3).

Aaron wouldn't change much compared to the books, I just think he would be really pissed when people accuse his brother of being the killer (while not being sure himself that he isn't). He would often leave the camp without telling people in order to see Kathy (who doesn't work there at all), leading people to believe at some point that he might be dead. I also want a scene where he pretends to be Andrew (who is chased by people who think he is the killer) in order to save him.

Drake, who knows that Andrew is working at a camp councelor, will try to trespass the camp at night in order to get to Andrew. And well...I guess Aaron will kill him as well and it will add more tension within the group (as if there was not enough murders happening there).

NICKY HEMMICK

(gif is Xavier from American Horror story season 9 : Camp Redwood)

Nicky would stay true to himself: proud to be gay and flirty with the male councelors, even though it must be harder for him since this AU takes place in the 80s. I imagine to be the funny guy of the bunch, throwing one-liners at the killer. I think that he would be more invested in the job than Andrew and Aaron.

ALLISON REYNOLDS + SETH GORDON

(I almost wanted to put a gif of Allison Reynolds from Breakfast Club as a joke but well...It's Chris from Carrie, I'd love to see Allison with that haircut)

She would be the stereotypical bimbo, but with more personality when you get to know her. I think Seth would be the first one to die and it would impact her character development and make her wanna take revenge on the Butcher. I imagine Seth to be like the stereotypical jock, still a jerk. This time he is killed by Nathan's axe and not because of Riko. I don't have much more ideas for them yet, but I love to imagine that Allison starts as a typical bitch and then she learns how to survive and becomes a badass character (like Emma Mountebank from the horror game The Quarry).

I think that Seth would be killed while the two of them are...Well...Doing... what camp councelor couples do in 80s horror movies... Allison somehow manages to escape the Butcher and to tell the others that Seth died.

RENEE WALKER

(gif is Robin Buckley from Stranger Things)

I don't have much ideas for Reenee yet but I'm open for suggestions if you guys have ideas. I think her story would stay similar to the original books as well. I just love to imagine that she tries to teach Andrew how to act more friendly with the kids, and making fun of him when as fails miserably to be a sociable human being (come on Andrew, the kids are freaked out by your crazy medicated smile). I also think that in their freetime they like to hang out and throw knives on the camp's archery targets. She is probably one of the most loved councelors.

DAN WILDS

(gif is Deena Johnson from Fear Street)

Dan is trying to do what's best for the kids. Her group would still be divided with the monsters on the other side because she is part of the ones who believe that Andrew might be the killer. She is sceptical when Neil tries to tell the Foxes that there is a murderer running around. Wymack puts her in charge when he has to leave the camp (not knowing that Kevin...well, you know their secret) and she takes that role very seriously, as the leader of the gang and "the rational one".

MATT BOYD

(gif is Chris Washington from Get Out)

I think that Matt would often try to play the role of the hero, fighting the Butcher many times to protect his friends. I don't have much ideas for him either but I'm open for suggestions!

KEVIN DAY + THE RAVENS

(gif is Kurt from Fear Street)

In this version I think that Kevin has something to do with the Butcher too. I'm not sure what, but I'd like to keep the idea that he knows Neil from his former life as well. Maybe he was another victim that survived, or one of his relatives was killed by the Butcher in front of his eyes. In this AU the Ravens are camp councelors from a rival Summer Camp (Evermore Camp). Kevin used to be part of them but he ran away because they have questionable methods when it comes to taking care of the kids (Riko put that fucking knife down, will ya?). Riko would be a psycho bully and a minor antagonist. He would also attack the Foxes and use the Butcher's murders as a cover-up.

Kevin and Riko take the rivalry between the Foxhole Camp and Evermore Camp very seriously. They often battle against each other in events such as Exy competitions and Capture the flag. The Foxhole Camp is considered to be a shitty and dangerous summer camp while Evermore Camp is for rich kids (in a similar vibe to the rivalry between Shadyside and Sunnyvale kids in Fear Street).

THE BUTCHER A.K NATHAN WESNINSKI

Our slasher!! As I said before he would be obsessed with the idea of killing Neil and the Foxes in the most gruesome way possible. The chemestry between the two will be very personal, like most killer vs final girl dynamic in slasher movies. I'm sure he will have some second winds... As for how he will look I don't know for sure? I like the idea that he is wearing an Exy helmet, in a similar fashion to Jason Voorheese's iconic hockey mask.

So yeah that's my idea for this AU. If you guys want to add ideas you can always contact me!! It'd be so cool to see what you think of it :D

I will do fanarts based on that AU if you're interested enough 🫵🫵🫵 I mean we need Neil and Andrew in summer camp staff uniforms...

[cosmiccdivinityy]

The way I was obsessed with enemies to lovers/rivals to lovers as a kid 😭😭😭 my top pairings growing up ranked. Canon/Fanon included.

Can you tell I’ve been on a nostalgic rewatch.

1. Logan/Quinn from Zoey 101. The OG teenbop enemies to lovers omg I stan. When they pronounced their love for each other at the season finale at the prom, screaming crying throwing up. The way they get together is so random lmao he calls her hot and they kiss then Michael rides by on a horse like what? But the pay off and ending was so *chefs kiss*

2. Courtney/Duncan from TDI. They were everything to me and Cartoon Network ruined it. First season the bantering, the flirting. When I tell you I was hooked. The scream I scrumpt when they finally kissed (also me didn’t she just throw up but whatever I guess) then she left and it was all downhill from there.

3. Rose/Jake from ADJL. The Romeo and Juliet of this paring needs to be studied. They were so down bad for each other. When Jake found out she was huntsgirl then when she found out. Their first kiss being right before she had to ‘kill’ him for sport in an arena. Her giving up her life to keep him and his family safe, him giving up her to keep her safe. 😭😭😭 they don’t make em like they used too

4. Draco/Harry from HP. The ship that started it all. Before this I’d never read a slash fic before is it even still called that. Anyways this right here is my longest going ship I’m still into only reason it’s not higher is that I love the other ones more. You get so many variations of this, from the super toxic fic, to the I’ve always secretly loved you, to the meet up after the war is over and so on and so forth. Ugh I love it. There’s like 50,000 fics of them on a03 and I know I’ve read like half at least 🤣

5. Zuko/Katara from Avatar. My second non canon ship on here. When I tell you I was obsessed with them. Sigh then I discovered other fandoms and by the time I came back to them I was just done. Which I think comes fromm just not being as much of a Zuko fan anymore. This ship was gold, tho, I mean come on I’ll save you from the pirates how can I not. The way he jumped in front of her (obviously he’d do the same for everyone but like listen it ate down bad) the whole crystal caverns episode was fuel to the fire, the writers/creators knew what they were doing

6. Jake/Miley from Hannah Montana. Another OG omg she hated him so much. The flirty the snark then they had to kiss and both of em were like oh hot damn. They were so cute together and I will forever hate Disney for making her choose Jake just for him to cheat on her like what was the reason. What was the reason 😭😭

7. Alejandro/Heather from TDI. Woo child buckle up. This is one of those slowburns cause it’s not until like a quarter in to the season you’re like hold up. Are they going where I think they’re going and then they did. I don’t like the ending cause seriously wtf was the point. But the lead up and bruh the stuck in a hole song I still sing that on a daily. They were literally made for each other.

8. Chad/Sonny from Sonny with a Chance: one thing about Disney they ate down when it comes to enemies to lovers, or annoyance to like, whatever you wanna call it. Chad Dylan Cooper and Sonny omg the drama was beautiful, they hated each other so much and when they started dating I bout passed out. Lol they were so hilarious together I miss it.

9. Raven/Beastboy from TT. This and next two aren’t super enemies to lovers, more live annoyances or belligerent sexual tension. But I really was obsessed with this, like I was the girl reading Terra bashing fics 😭😭 they were so cute, the Beast Within was ship gold, Nevermore, the fact that she holds onto to the penny he gives her when she ‘dies’ and oh he only turns into the Beast again to protect her from Slade and never again. Beautiful

10. Jimmy/Cindy from JN. They may have only been nine but sheesh the rivalry to lovers or in this case crushes was intense. Cindy was down bad since day one but she hid that shit so well. The Valentine’s Day episode still makes me giggle like a kid. And the last episode where they’re legit just straight up flirting with each other I can not. When she almost confesses when he’s the orange hulk. So cute.

Honarary mentions:

Jinx/Kid Flash from TT. They were cute but I hated it solely for the fact that it shoulda been me 😭😭🤧🤧

Sam/Freddie from icarly. Ok so I used to love this one and as I got older, Sam was just so fucking mean that I couldn’t ship like damn. At some point it’s not cute anymore, it’s just down right abusive, early seasons yes, later seasons where they’re actually together no.

Bakugo/Deku simply cause some days I think it’s cute other days I hate it

Mindy and Josh from Drake and Josh. Cute and amusing but didn’t care for em much.

Bailey and Code from Suite Life on Deck see above.