#at first I thought it was like just one guy but no there's a community for it

[dior-luxury]

Can we get some headcanons for Deuce when he gets a girlfriend for the first time?

New Boyfriend Deuce HC'S

( ✧ ) ────── boyfriend stories . fluff - she/her .

- [𝐜𝐡.] deuce spade

- [𝐩:𝐬] deuce being the best boyfriend ever. Fluff-heavy romance . Mild secondhand embarrassment . Emotional vulnerability .

Note: Guys... I got a LITTLE too carried away with these headcanons (ღ˘⌣˘ღ) Anyways these headcanons are so cute like- ahahsiken. Let me know if you guys would want more characters!

Deuce never thought he’d have a girlfriend in Night Raven College — he was too busy trying to be an honor student, avoid trouble, and stay on Crowley's good side. But when he meets you, something shifts. You're kind, but not a pushover. You encourage him to study but also tease him when he gets too serious. You’re not loud, but somehow, when you're in a room, he feels it. His heart jumps a little whenever you laugh. At first, he writes it off as admiration. Just friends. That’s all. But then he finds himself lingering in the hallway, hoping to catch a glimpse of you between classes. He starts sitting in spots where you’ll pass by. His cheeks flush whenever you smile at him for no reason. He realizes it when Ace smirks one day and goes, “You’re seriously down bad for her, huh?”

Confessing is a nightmare and a half. He doesn’t want to mess it up. Deuce goes full-on prep mode like he’s cramming for a Spelldrive match and a pop quiz at the same time. He practices what to say in front of the mirror, muttering lines like: "Would you maybe want to—uh—do the thing—no, wait, not like that—"

He’s red as a tomato by the end of it.

He writes you a letter. Handwritten. Old-fashioned. Filled with crossed-out words and nervous little doodles in the margins. It ends with: “I think you’re amazing and I want to be someone you can count on. If you want… would you go out with me?” When he hands it to you, he bolts. Just. Takes off. Won’t even look you in the eye until the next day.

When you say yes, he’s stunned into silence. Then his face lights up like fireworks and he gives you the most genuine, pure smile you’ve ever seen. "R-Really?! I mean, I’m really happy. I’ll do my best—I mean, I’ll be the best boyfriend I can!”

Deuce is so earnest it hurts. He Googles “how to be a good boyfriend” and takes notes. He shows up to your hangouts with little things you mentioned once in passing. If you said your favorite color was lilac? Expect him to wear a tie in that color next week. You mentioned you liked strawberry tarts once? He’ll try to bake them (and ends up covered in flour, calling his mom mid-way for help).

He’s not very smooth, and it shows. One time, he tried to do the whole "cool guy leaning against the locker" thing and misjudged the angle, falling sideways into the wall. He laughed it off awkwardly, ears pink. “Nailed it,” he said. You giggled, and he practically melted.

He tries to play it cool around others, but Ace teases the hell out of him. “There’s your girlfriend, Deuce! Go get her a flower or something!” “I-I was going to anyway! Shut up, Ace!”

He loves walking you back to your dorm. It becomes a quiet, meaningful routine. He listens intently when you talk about your day, and he’ll offer to carry your books even if you insist he doesn’t have to. He’s not touchy at first — not because he doesn’t want to be, but because he’s terrified of doing something you’re uncomfortable with. The first time you held his hand, he short-circuited. Just blinked down at your interlocked fingers and looked like he was trying not to pass out from happiness.

Being with you pushes him to grow. He starts reflecting on how he communicates, how he reacts when he’s upset, how he can show love without overwhelming you. You catch glimpses of the rougher Deuce sometimes — the one who’s a little hot-headed, a little impulsive. But he’s learning. With you, he wants to be the version of himself that he's proud of.

One time, he got into an argument with another student who disrespected you, and he was this close to throwing a punch. But then he remembered what you’d say. He breathed. He walked away. Later, he apologized to you, looking like a kicked puppy. “I just… I don’t want you to be disappointed in me.”

You tell him you’re proud of how far he’s come. His voice catches when he answers. “That means a lot. I… I used to think I had to fight to prove myself. But now, I want to grow for real. Not just for me. For us.”

He takes you on a “date” to the botanical gardens on campus, and it’s surprisingly lovely. He’s not great at planning fancy things, but he puts in so much heart. He brings a picnic lunch he made (not bad, actually!) and sets it all up under a tree blooming with pastel flowers. “I wanted you to have something peaceful. You always make me feel calm, you know?” he admits.

On your birthday, Deuce panics about what gift to get you. In the end, he hand-crafts a small charm — something simple, with your initials and a lucky star bead from his hometown. “It’s not perfect, but I wanted you to have something that’d protect you.”

Rainy days are his favorite because you’ll let him lend you his jacket — which is oversized, warm, and smells like the citrus soap he uses. You wear it and tease him: “Boyfriend privileges.” He blushes but beams. “I’ll give you all the privileges you want.”

Deuce might act tough sometimes, but he’s soft when it comes to you. He’s the type to text you “Did you eat today?” or bring you your favorite snack after a long class. If you’re ever sad, he listens. Doesn’t always know what to say, but he sits beside you, lets you vent, and quietly offers his hand to hold.

He’s so gentle when he’s with you. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Smiling nervously before pressing a kiss to your forehead. His affection is shy but real.

One night, you two stayed up late talking — about dreams, the future, things that scare you, things you hope for. Deuce looked at you and whispered: “I never thought I’d be lucky enough to have someone like you. I don’t wanna take it for granted.”

[mallory524]

Hii can I request John Walker (or Thunderbolts if u dont write for him) with a reader who like passes out if they overuse their powers?

tyy love ur headcanons!!

(I LOVE THIS!!)

always there for you

john walker x reader

tags- losing consciousness, canon level action/violence, teammates to lovers, comfort, implied no olivia (doesn't affect anything)

word count- 1020

notes- I am a proud John Walker girl and i straight up giggled when i saw I’d gotten a request for him😭(also you’re so sweet!! thanks!!)

The first time it happened during a mission, John thought you DIED. Even days later, he was still thinking about the moment he saw you collapse to the ground. He had rushed to your side in the midst of all the chaos and started frantically trying to find your pulse. Yelena had to tell him repeatedly that this happens to you sometimes, and that you just overdid it and you were fine. John figured she'd laugh at him for "overreacting", but she didn't. Yelena understood, and neither of them ever addressed the tears that had been in his eyes.

That whole incident forced John to address the very real feelings for you that he’d started to develop. You're so attractive and smart, and every time you use your powers, John's just mesmerized by how cool you look. He thought about you all the time, and those 40 seconds he was convinced he had lost you were terrifying. He didn't want you pushing yourself too hard like that again.

He kept worrying that all the energy you were exerting was hurting you. Whenever you guys were on missions, he’d be constantly glancing over at you to make sure you were doing okay. Sometimes he'd step in to help if he felt like you were trying to take on too much at once, even if you were handling things just fine.

As helpful as that all was, you misinterpreted it as John making fun of you. One night while putting your gear away, you noticed him closely watching you, like he was ready for you to collapse at any moment.

"Oh, cut it out, Walker."

"What are you talking-"

"I'm sorry I slowed us down that one time, it won't happen again. Geez," you had said. When you turned to meet his eyes, though, you were floored by the amount of real concern in them.

Instead of arguing back like he always does, John just sort of wearily throws his hands up in surrender. "Sorry. I know you know what you're doing."

Things were different after that. You were both terrible at communicating with one another about your feelings. About 3 months later, you actually started being honest with each other and a relationship started!

Now, you don't feel like you always have to hide your affection or your concern for one another, because it's all out there in the open.

John is way more comfortable letting you know he worries about you than he was before. He has trouble with the words sometimes, but he shows it in little ways.

He washes your suit, awkwardly folds it, and leaves it on your bed the night before a mission. He fills up your water bottle and he makes sure you're getting enough to eat. He knows that if you overuse your powers, you'll pass out anyway and a balanced meal probably won't change that, but he figures it can't hurt. He's your biggest cheerleader, and everyone jokes that he's the one running the fan account they found that posts clips of you from the news and other public appearances. John says that “obviously” he doesn’t have time to run a fan account, but he does at least follow it.

Despite his constant reminders not to overdo it, it still happens. John’s always there to carefully scoop you up and take care of you for the rest of the day.

One night, you guys are way outnumbered, and John's trying to fight this guy who’s definitely been enhanced in some way.

John might be doing okay now, but he's getting tired and the man's started to get the better of him. He's far away from you, and this man is obviously powerful, so you're really going to need a lot of energy to hurl this guy out of the way. That's energy you don't really have.

More people are closing in on you and that man is starting to pummel John and the rest of your friends are getting ambushed too- it's too much. You know you’re running out of steam and now you're getting overwhelmed. You take a deep breath in, try to steady yourself, and you finish this. Your moves are intentional and carefully aimed in many directions, but anyone watching would just see one big burst of light that illuminates the dark street and ends the entire fight. When the dust settles, all of your adversaries are down, but so are you. You don't do that kind of thing often; it's too much at once, and it's too much on your body.

When you wake up, you're in the car, and John is tending to your injuries and Alexei high fives you, saying you did a great job.

You're injured, you can feel that, but you notice John's pretty roughed up, himself. "Are you okay?" you ask him quietly through a yawn.

"Oh yeah. I heal quickly, you know. That guy was just really strong. You're a lot stronger than I think you realize, too."

You wince upon hearing that, even though John's softly smiling at you and clearly not mad. "Yikes, sorry. I was hoping you wouldn't get caught in the crossfire."

He just kisses your forehead.

"Don't apologize. But stop overworking yourself... and don't do that move again, it was terrifying."

"Well, stop trying to take on the scariest people we run into, that's terrifying," you say as you reach for the first aid kit to patch up a long cut on John's face, but he gently swats your hand away.

"No, get more rest. I'm fine. Lay back down. It's a long drive."

You don't even try to argue with him on this one. You're exhausted.

You know how the rest of tonight will go, too. John will make sure no one wakes you up again for the rest of the car ride, and then he'll carry you back into the tower and gently set you down on your bed. He'll be there for you in the morning to help you with anything you might need help with. He'll always be there for you. No matter what.

[captain-huggy-bear]

"Please don't leave me like that ever again. It scared me." x clayton keller. maybe after a fight with reader?

Oh, this was angsty but I love me a man who loves you so much he worries for your safety even when you're probably fine. 1000 Followers Celly Finished Requests are currently closed while I work through current ones <3 Writing Masterlist

"Don't walk out, please, baby!" He's following you to the front door, you're not even dressed, pajamas on, slippers on your feet and keys in your hand. You don't even have your phone on you.

"Just leave me alone, Clay! I need to think!" You're not thinking rationally. Just angry, upset. You feel like you might cry and maybe it's silly, maybe it's stupid but all you'd ever asked of Clay was for him to communicate with you, to keep you in the loop.

"Baby..." He follows you out into the street, barefoot not even thinking about grabbing shoes. It's midnight and the last thing he wants is for you to be out alone, wandering around in your pajamas all because he didn't let you know he'd be home late, all because he'd strolled in at 10 minutes to midnight while you'd been waiting up for him...and he gets it. God, he gets it. He should have text you. He normally would have, he just got so caught up in drinking with the guys, playing a round of pool, that he forgot...and he knows that's not a good excuse.

"Leave me alone, Clay."

He stops in the street and watches you walk away...long enough for you to disappear around a corner, long enough for him to swear to himself, disappearing into the house for his keys and phone, shoving his feet into a pair of slides before rushing after you.

Except when he turns the corner you're not there, he can't see you at all. It's like you've disappeared completely, it sets a panic through Clayton. The sort of panic that has him feeling sick to the stomach, calling out your name even though he knows his neighbours are going to hate him, heck they might even call the cops, but he doesn't care.

He takes every logical turn, maybe you went down this street? You always pet the cat on that one and what about down here where Mrs Norris, the nice 93 year old you bring cookies, lives? By the time he circles back to the street your house is on he's sweating, panicked, so worried that he's about ready to phone the cops even though it's been at most an hour.

Except you're there, sat on the porch steps, head in your hands and it's like he physically deflates, shoulders dropping, all that fear, all that worry draining out of him.

"Fuck..." You look up when you hear him, standing, bottom lip shaking a little because you know you overreacted and you're sorry and even an hour away from him felt like crap.

Clay rushes to you like you've been gone years, hands cupping your face, forehead pressing into yours with an urgency that almost scares you because he seems so panicked, so different from his usual calm, collected self.

"Please don't leave me like that ever again. It scared me...fuck, I thought..." His nostrils flare, a deep breath in as he tries to calm himself down, trying not to clutch at you too hard. Your hands reach for his forearms, rubbing up and down in soothing motions, fingers gripping him as if to say 'i'm right here.'

"I'm okay, Clay..." He's practically shaking underneath your hands, adrenaline wearing off and for the first time you really understand just how much Clayton cares about you, loves you. For the first time you really understand that when he told you not to walk off, it wasn't because he wanted to keep arguing or because he wanted to control you, it was because he was worried something might happen...that he wanted you safe. You're almost certain he would have offered to leave the house instead, so long as you were safe inside it.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I should have text you I was going to be home late..." His fingers are almost urgent, petting back your hair, tracing over your skin, trying to reassure himself that you're there, you're real, you're okay. He can't explain it really, the way his stomach had dropped when he first realised he couldn't see you anymore, how that deep well of dread had formed inside him...

"It's okay...I'm sorry that I walked off, that I made you worry, I'm okay. I promise." You've both made mistakes tonight, done things you regret, done things in ways that should have been done differently. What remaining frustration you hold is gone, replaced by a deep, deep desire to comfort Clay.

"Fuck...sweet girl, I thought something had happened to you..."

"I'm okay...let's go inside, yeah?" You urge him towards the door as you take a step backwards, he follows like being parted from you is painful as you ease him closer to the house.

"Yeah...yeah."

In that moment you vow to never walk out into the middle of the night alone again because the sight of him like that is too much.

[miyasmagnolias]

𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 ⭑.ᐟ

miya atsumu x f!reader

atsumu catches you dancing in your bedroom to a certain viral song.

part five of the in close quarters series, a friends-to-lovers college au featuring you, atsumu, and the ten months you spend living together senior year.

a/n: this is a very unserious drabble you guys. i needed something lighthearted and fluffy to get me through the work week! ( ╥ ᴗ ╥)

You didn't even like the song at first.

A couple girls in your university dance troupe were gushing over the music video before practice the other day, crowding around someone's laptop like fraternity boys did for playoff sports games.

"I can't believe they switched up their style so quickly," one of them lamented. "Their last song was better. Much easier on the ears."

"I dunno. I kinda dig it," another argued. "Sure, the lyrics are a little unhinged — but people don't make this kind of music to wax poetic. They do it so they can shake ass."

"Oh, this dance is going viral for sure," a third agreed.

"What are we watching?" you asked her, slinging your dance bag on the studio floor. You were 99% sure her name was Mina.

"Gnarly by Katseye! Have you heard it yet, Y/N?"

“I haven’t. Is it new?”

“They just released it yesterday,” Mina replied, scooting over on the hardwood floors to make room for you to sit. “The Internet is going wild about it.”

"I see," you murmured, squatting beside her as each member of the global girl group started twerking onscreen in perfect unison. Frowning, you asked, "Why are they holding sandwiches?"

"Couldn't tell you. But it's making me hungry," Mina mumbled. "Anyone wanna grab McDonald's before we start?"

That was two days ago — and you hadn't been able to get the song out of your head ever since. It was everywhere: your TikTok feed, other people's Instagram stories. You'd even heard it at the damn grocery store.

Now, as you sat at your desk trying to analyze the lines of a Shakespearian sonnet, you couldn't help but mumble the words to Katseye's Gnarly instead.

The inner English major in you was livid. Out of all the poetic compositions in the world, you had to be fixated on the Internet's most unserious song? Virginia Woolf would be rolling in her grave right now.

Tossing the book of sonnets onto your bed and opening your laptop, you pulled up the music video on YouTube and cranked the volume up. Maybe if you listened to it enough times, you would finally get it out of your system. Maybe if you overplayed it to death, you could finally focus.

You had never been more wrong.

Meanwhile, Atsumu had just returned home from his evening run, keys jangling as he let himself in and kicked his shoes off by the front door. He heard the deep bass thrumming from your bedroom, and for a second, he thought he was back at the fraternity house.

"Y/N?" he called out to you over the music, taking his AirPods out and peeling off his sweaty t-shirt. He flung the latter onto the couch, making a mental note to pick it up before you had the chance to kill him. "Y/N! What the hell are ya listening to?"

He ambled over to your side of the apartment and rapped twice on your ajar bedroom door. When it was clear you hadn't heard him, he opened it just enough to poke his head through.

His jaw went slack.

Now, Atsumu knew you'd taken dance classes in the past, had even encouraged you to audition for a university dance troupe so you could meet more likeminded people. He knew how formative it would be for you to find community in something you clearly loved to do, just as he'd found his community in volleyball.

What he hadn't known was just how good you were.

In fact, as Atsumu watched you flip your hair and body roll in beat to the most heinous song he'd ever heard, he started questioning whether he knew you at all.

He pushed the door fully open and leaned his bare shoulder against the doorframe, smiling lazily as you performed your heart out in the middle of your bedroom. You were ridiculously cute, what with your tousled hair and confident facials and the way you spun around in your socks —

"Fuck!" you reeled back, the sight of your half-naked roommate nearly sending you into cardiac arrest.

You hit the space bar on the performance video you'd been dancing to for the past twenty minutes. The silence that followed was deafening. Chest heaving, you pressed your hand to your now-racing heart and shot Atsumu the most offended glare of all time.

"Why are you shirtless?"

"Why are you gyratin'?" he asked in an equal amount of disbelief.

You crossed your arms. "I'm taking a study break."

"And what the hell is this song?" Atsumu performed a deep lunge so he could take a closer look at your screen. "Gnarly by Katseye..."

"It's just this silly viral song that's been stuck in my head," you said, collapsing onto your bed. Face pressed into the mattress, you mumbled, "I swear, I don't like it."

"Well, ya liked it an awful lot just a second ago," Atsumu replied amusedly. You peeled your face from the comforter just in time to see his smile turn saccharine. "Where'd ya learn to twerk like that?"

You shucked a pillow at his face.

"What?" he cackled, catching it with ease. Atsumu laughed the same way the sun burst through a dense billow of clouds — warmly and unapologetically. "Ya sure as hell didn't learn it from those damn books of yours."

"None of your business," you quipped, staring daggers at him from across the room. "Shouldn't you be out on a run or something?

"I ran fast," he chirped. As if his sweaty, frustratingly chiseled physique weren't enough of an indicator. "And I'm so glad I did."

"We are never talking about this again."

"Fine by me," he drawled, tossing your pillow back. It hit you with a pathetic thud. He was already halfway out the door before saying, "Oh, and Y/N?"

Your jaw tensed. "What."

He flicked his sweaty hair out of his eyes and shot you his signature shit-eating grin. "Just for the record, I think yer way hotter than a bag of Takis."

Great, he was quoting lyrics now. This was worse than him reading your smutty short stories.

"Out," you growled behind bared teeth, curling into a fetal position as Atsumu's retreating laugh engulfed you like a seismic wave. "And put a shirt on!"

Once you heard the door to his room slam shut, you turned onto your back and unleashed a whimpering sigh.

Atsumu had seen you dance.

To add insult to injury, he'd seen you throw it back.

Fuck. You squeezed your eyes shut and felt your face flush.

You were never going to live this down.

Two days later, Atsumu ran into his teammate at the student rec center.

"Sakusa," he said, dumbfounded. "The hell ya doing here?"

The wing spiker perked up at Atsumu from where he was furiously disinfecting his press machine with a Clorox wipe.

"Atsumu," he started, glancing between the setter and the piece of gym equipment. Almost as if he'd been caught red-handed.

"Flu outbreak on the team?" Atsumu guessed. His teammate's shoulders slumped.

"The student athlete gym is disgusting," he grumbled honestly. "Everyone keeps coughing. At least here, there's room to breathe."

"Fair," Atsumu admitted, setting his stuff down and taking the press machine next to Sakusa's. Beside him, Sakusa eyed him carefully.

"How are you doing?" he asked, his voice tense. Tentative. "You ready to come back next week?"

Atsumu paused. It had been three weeks since his coach had put him on mental health leave, and while Atsumu had done all the perfunctory steps — sticking to his gym routine, getting enough sleep — a small part of him wondered if he'd lost his spark. If that fierce, relentless flame of his that only ignited on the volleyball court was forever extinguished by what had happened to him.

"To be completely honest? I don't know," Atsumu admitted, looking around at the student rec center he'd been banished to for the past month. He once thought it sad, borderline plebeian of him to work out anywhere but the student athlete gym. Now, he found himself here every day.

Sakusa considered him for a moment.

"If you're embarrassed about being kicked out for a month, don't be," he said matter-of-factly. He may as well have dumped scathing hot water down Atsumu's back. Softening, he added, "The team's got your back."

Shoulders relaxing, Atsumu said, "Thanks, Sakusa."

His teammate fiddled with the Clorox wipe in his hands. "The team also sucks without you, so you better come back ten times better. Else your leave of absence would have been for nothing."

At that, Atsumu chuckled. "Don't stroke my ego too much."

Shoving an AirPod into each ear, Atsumu pulled up his workout playlist on his phone and hit play. Little did he know his Bluetooth hadn't connected yet. His music blared from his phone speaker like a fire alarm.

"Hottie, hottie! Like a bag of Takis, I'm the shit! I'm the shit — !"

Atsumu slammed his finger into the pause button.

The silence that followed was deafening. A couple girls on the stair masters snickered. Meanwhile, Sakusa shot him the most judgmental glare he'd ever seen.

After a moment, Atsumu said, "Please don't tell anyone."

"Hey, whatever it takes for you to heal, man," Sakusa said, though his lips frowned in displeasure. After finishing his sets, he stood from the press machine, wiped it down, and said, "See you next week?"

"Yeah, man," Atsumu sniffled, trying to act like he wasn't just caught listening to the world's most viral girl group. "See ya."

Once Sakusa was out of his line of sight, Atsumu mouthed a silent 'FUCK' and hid his face in his hands.

He hadn't meant to get addicted to the song, but after catching you dancing to it the other day, he started listening to it out of morbid curiosity. On his runs. During his workouts. Hell, he even listened to it in the shower when you weren't home. He knew he wouldn't hear the end of it if you found out.

Still, it didn't stop him from hitting rewind once his AirPods reconnected.

"They could describe everything with one single word..."

He bobbed his head to the beat as he gripped the handlebars of the press machine and began his set.

If anything, the song had given him the unexpected confidence boost he needed before his return to volleyball.

And if he had even a shred of the confidence you had when you danced, that would be more than enough.

@miyasmagnolias, 2025

[highprincessofthenightcourt]

RANT FOR AZRIEL

(Disclaimer , this isn’t for the girlies peacefully enjoying their headcanons or favorite characters. This is for the hostile, demonizing posts I keep seeing against Azriel lately. And let me be clear, shipping whoever you want is fun and totally valid. This isn’t about that. This is about people villainizing others for not liking what they like and twisting canon to suit their narrative and I just needed to rant.)

It pisses me off that people act like Azriel doesn’t truly see or value Elain just because he didn’t tell Rhysand about it in the bonus chapter. The thing is, Az had no plans for a future with her because he was doing everything in his power to stay away—he believes he’s unworthy of her, he knows she was given a mate, and he wants her to have a choice.

So, he stayed away. He tried to do what he thought was right—to give her the chance to be with the guy she was “supposed” to be with. He accepted that, even though we saw how much it pained him. And this is just another example of Azriel caring about Elain. He was putting his feelings aside because she is important to him. Even the fact that he almost gave in to her on Solstice was because he finally knew she wanted him. He was overwhelmed and dazed and hadn’t thought anything through in that moment—but he knew she felt for him as he did for her, and that’s what mattered to him.

Azriel has shown us, time and time again, how much he cares for Elain. From the very beginning, when he tried to appear harmless because she was scared of fae, to being the one who wanted to show her the garden and give her a safe space in this strange land. From being the one who noticed she was a seer, thus saving her from being trapped in her own mind, to being the one who immediately realized she was missing when Hybern took her—and had zero second thoughts about risking his life to get her back. From not spying on Lucien out of respect for Elain’s privacy, to finding the perfect necklace that represented her secret lovely beauty and the roses she lovingly tends to. Azriel has been there. He sees her, just as she sees him and all the times he rubs his temples.

Now, I do have my little personal quibble with Lucien for not being a better friend to Feyre, but that’s beside the point and it really isn’t the reason I don’t ship him with Elain. He’s had good moments, and I get why some people might want to see him as a MMC in the next book.

But Lucien is the one who has been written to see Elain superficially. Their first real interaction, where she asks if he can hear her heart and he says he can’t…it tells you everything. He’s the one having sexual thoughts about her without knowing or even really liking her—not Azriel.

Az is the one who yearns for her so deeply that it pains him to even see her near someone else, to the point where he needs to stay near exits so he can leave if it gets too unbearable.

This is not unintentional, guys. SJM even had Nesta, who was obsessed with Elain, tell Azriel he would die if he tried to save her—that’s how badly she needed to communicate to us that Az would do anything for Elain, including die.

And one last thing: Azriel is not a pervert for being turned on by a very attractive woman who, mind you, wants to fuck him back. Not even Lucien is a pervert for wanting her. Elain is hot, it’s not their fault. Plus, these fae are all horny as hell—the Spring Court needs literal orgies to generate magic. Maybe go deal with that instead, lol.

[obsessingonthevalley]

The Story and The Engine - no no cause why it ate tho

4 bangers back to back. Piss off, Russell, did you hear me last year. Cheeky sod. Actually, such a brilliant episode, the only issues I have are that I'm a bit slow so I don't get some of it.

Sorry, I was late. By the way, A-levels are actually way scarier than I thought. Just came out of my first exam. Guys. ah hah. Excited for tomorrow's episode, you will get a post immediately, trust.

I love these two. Can we start there? Of course, we can. I'm writing this. They are so pookie core. If this were still the kind of blog where I spoke about my personal life, I could talk about these two for hours! But I don't, so I won't.

They're dynamic this episode was built so effortlessly, I shed the tear the doctor didn't. Belinda backstory was so not expected that it genuinely hit me, she's so mundane its elegant, she is legitimately just a woman and it's so real and I don't think we've really had that done this well ever other than Bill Potts and Rose, both children, or young adults, my b.

Loved how Belinda wasn't ignored, I had that worry but when she joined everyone else, and played an active role that didn't feel forced, my heart melted. It was pure magic. I also enjoyed the barbershop as a set so much.

As said, the backdrop is a barbershop because the writer, Inua Ellams, recognised it as a place that people go to feel comfortable and have a sense of community, especially as a person of colour. A haven for the doctor, incredible, accurate. I definitely felt a connection to my hairdressers as a kid, it was one of the only places you could go and feel connected to others, yeah, I could go to Rush, or that gora on the corner, but I don't know where his clippers have been. Yeah, my girl wasn't the best at her job always, but I always felt welcome, I knew about her life and goals, and family, she knew mine. You don't get that at a SuperCuts. Doubled down upon by the fact that afro-textured hair is something that isn't taught in hairdressing courses, so is inherently cultural, obviously this is Lagos, but this is a BBC show. So.

OH MY GOD. The fugitive Doctor, Jo Martin, is the love of my life. Give me 50 more guest appearances right now, I don't care. So unexpected, a little confusing why Fifteenth can remember the memories from fugitive, I'm not gonna ask though, because I like it too much. And Abena man, doctor didn't cry (thank god) I defo did tho (not actually.)

The story of the gods, but not directly pantheon related, not a pantheon episode. Yes, loved that. I know a lot of people expected it to be one. So that was lovely. The Barber as a character, incredible, saddening, and gorgeous ending. I loved how every character ended in the episode. Which is never expected in a Doctor Who episode, so glad it could happen *cough cough* Kerblam *cough cough*

Overall, loved it. Genuinely loved it. Thought some of the god stugg, nexus stuff, and the baby was confusing, choosing to ignore it, though. So guess we'll never know what that was about.

I really can't believe every episode gets better and better. I have a sneaky suspicion that the Interstellar Song Contest is going to break that streak, overinvolvement of Mrs. Flood, seemingly, a bit gimmicky and not really in a fun-looking way. We will have to see, though, of course. On my knees for VerilyBitchie to cover it if possible.

Okay, see you sooner than what happened here...

[hbyrde36]

Steddie | R: Explicit | WC:5877 | Ch 4/8 | AO3

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 <-

Chapter 4: The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak

For the next few days, Robin’s words continued to echo through Eddie’s mind. 

“I don’t know what is or isn’t going on between you two, but be careful with Steve, I don’t want to see him get hurt again.”

That wasn’t all she’d said, but it was the part that struck him most.

While he was stuck combining forces with her to make Steve stay in bed resting and healing, as best they could without direct communication anyway, Eddie tried to be angry that she had essentially given the shovel talk to a dead guy, which felt a little insensitive, and more than a little fucked up. But, the longer he thought about it, he had to admit she kinda had a point. 

He was a ghost.

Probably. 

There was no version of his story that included a happy ending, and he didn’t want to trap Steve in a horror flick when he deserved nothing less than a fairytale romance and a happily ever after.

In death was a hell of a time to find out that the ‘straight’ guy he’d been crushing on and flirting with the entire time they'd been preparing for battle with Vecna was not as straight as previous estimation. And, sure, Eddie’d had his suspicions before. It’d been hard not to wonder when Steve couldn’t seem to stop staring at his mouth when they were talking in those creepy woods, or think twice about the way Steve had started to reach for him in moments of pain or joy, almost as much as Eddie had done the same, relying on one another like they’d known each other better, and for far longer, than they really had. 

If only he’d known then that he actually had a chance, before those fucking devil bats had gone to town on his flesh and ruined everything. He would have risked it all for one kiss from Steve to bring with him to the afterlife. 

Taking Robin’s words to heart, for his own sake and sanity as well as Steve’s, Eddie tried to keep a little distance. It wasn’t all that hard at first, with Steve sleeping so many hours of the day and night. He still spent more time than was probably healthy lying in bed next to Steve’s sleeping form, but from shovel talk on, Eddie made himself scarce whenever Steve began to stir.

Naturally though, there came a point where he and Robin could no longer keep Steve contained. Steve was feeling better, stronger, and even Robin couldn’t argue that his wounds were finally on their way to mending.

Eddie stuck close that first day when Steve was up and about, though he kept quiet—by Munson standards—feeling a bit unsure of how to act around the other boy now. Nothing had changed exactly, but also, everything had changed. He was happy enough to stay a shadow for now, letting Robin and her motormouth take the lead on convincing Steve to take it slow and let the ghost research go for one more day. 

Unfortunately for Eddie and his plan to suffer in silence, a frantic phone call from Robin’s parents was about to leave him alone with Steve for the first time since Robin had all but confirmed that Steve was into him.

Shit.

As soon as she hung up the phone, she whirled on Steve with narrowed eyes. “I swear on Dustin’s mother, if you so much as look at that attic door before I come back here tomorrow morning, you’ll be sorry.”

“Are you really threatening me with bodily harm when I just got out of the hospital?” Steve asked, looking unimpressed as he leaned against the kitchen door frame.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, pursing her lips, tapping them as if she were deep in thought. “I was thinking more like telling Munson something embarrassing. Your middle name maybe? Or—ooh! How when you found out your precious Farrah Fawcett hairspray had been discontinued you cried like a ba—”

Steve lunged forward to slap a hand over her mouth, the tips of his ears burning pink as he began to walk her forcefully towards the front door. “Oookay, you better hurry home before your mom sends Powell and Callahan after me.”

Eddie stifled a giggle, following along at a safe distance behind them.

“Where is Casper anyway?” Robin asked.

Steve hitched a thumb in Eddie’s direction, turning to catch his eye. 

It was the first time all day that Eddie didn’t avoid Steve’s direct gaze, stomach fluttering traitorously at the sight of those gorgeous hazel eyes.

Robin turned too, facing the general area Steve had pointed and glaring at a spot roughly a foot to Eddie’s left. “I’m counting on you to keep him from doing anything stupid.”

“And how exactly do you expect me to do that?!” Eddie quipped, for whatever good it would do, and glared right back at her.

A heavy pause and a sideways glance later, Steve relayed what he’d said to Robin.

“Use your words, Mr. Dungeon Master!” She shot back with an attitude and air quotes.

“First of all,” Eddie sucked in a loud, sharp, affronted breath. “Watch your tone when you’re talking about my life’s work, Buckley. Second of all, what makes you think he’ll listen to me?”

“Can you both stop talking about me like I'm a child?!” Steve snapped. “It’s extra insulting when you figure I have to translate for one of you.”

In an impressive act of synchronicity considering the circumstances, Eddie and Robin swung their gazes around as one to look at Steve, wearing matching raised eyebrows.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve muttered quietly, pressing two fingers hard against the bridge of his nose. “Look, my only plans for the night are to finally take a shower, and go to bed. Scouts honor.”

“Fiiine,” Robin ground out.

Meanwhile Eddie could only grimace at the implications. “Please tell me you weren’t really a boy scout.”

Seriously, the polos were one thing, but to have a crush on a former badge collecting goody-two-shoes?

Steve rolled his eyes. “Of course not. I used to be cool, remember?”

Robin looked between Steve’s face, the air Eddie’s form occupied, and back again, before bursting out in the most obnoxious laughter imaginable.

“Thanks, Rob.” Steve deadpanned.

“You’re welcome!” she chirped cheerfully, finally pulling the front open and stepping out. “I’ll see you both in the morning. Well, I’ll see Steve in the morning, and I’ll just assume the ghost of Christmas past is floating around somewhere too.”

“I don’t float,” Eddie grumbled in reflex, only realizing what she’d actually said after she was gone. He quickly rounded on Steve, mouth agape. “Wait, can I float? Have I been out here walking around like an idiot and missing out on all the fun parts of being a ghost?!”

Steve grinned wide enough to make his eyes sparkle, and suddenly it dawned on Eddie that his buffer had just left for the night. He looked away abruptly, an awkward tension, completely of his own making, pulling taut now that they were unsupervised. 

“N-nevermind,” Eddie mumbled, before Steve even had a chance to reply, keeping his head down as he stepped wide around him, “I-I just remembered I don’t like heights anyway, so—”

“Eddie, wait—” Steve called out.

Though every instinct in Eddie’s body shouted at him to run, his traitorous, unbeating heart could hear the sad and timid quality of Steve’s voice peeking out from behind those two words, giving him no choice but to stop and face his friend.

“I’m sorry if I-I said or did something to make you uncomfortable. I thought…” Steve paused, giving a little shake of his head. “It doesn’t matter what I thought, but iIt feels like you’ve been avoiding me and considering the fact that I’m the only person who can see and talk to you, I figure that means I must have fucked up pretty badly.” 

And, god, that wasn’t what Eddie wanted at all. 

He knew he was doing the right thing here. For both of them. For himself, who didn’t need to go into whatever eternity he faced with a dinged-up heart, and for Steve, who had his whole life ahead of him. But he couldn’t bring himself to let Steve go on thinking he’d done something wrong when that was the furthest thing from the truth.

Eddie’s shoulders sagged, and he started and stopped half a dozen times before the words finally came out. “You’re… amazing.”

Steve raised a perfectly arched brow.

Okay, not what Eddie’d meant to say, even if it was the truth. He cleared his throat, and tried again. “I mean, you didn’t fuck anything up, Steve. And I don’t know exactly what you thought, but if it’s what I think you thought, you weren’t wrong.”

Jesus Christ… did that even make sense?

“Um, what?” Steve asked.

Right.

“I like you,” Eddie pushed on, figuring the direct approach was his best course of action here. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure for a while if you even realized I was flirting with you while all this shit has been happening. If I was the only one feeling like there was something between us. I mean, after shoving a broken bottle up to your neck, it would have been fair if you hated me.”

Steve tilted his head thoughtfully. “For the record, hate is definitely not what I was feeling at the time.”

Fuck. 

He should have known Steve wasn’t going to make this easy.

Eddie pulled at his shirt collar. Was it getting warm in here? Could ghosts even feel room temperature? “Noted,” he choked out.

“So—that moment we had the other day, when we almost…” Steve took a few careful steps closer as he trailed off. 

“Kissed?” Eddie breathed, finishing Steve’s sentence, fighting both the instinct to back up and meet him halfway.

Steve nodded. “Yeah.”

It’d been such an almost… normal—for lack of a better word—moment, between two people who were growing closer, getting comfortable with each other and opening up. There’d been heartbeat there, the briefest of seconds when Eddie realized they were both leaning in, where he forgot he was dead. He was just a guy and his crush, about to share their first kiss.

Until they weren’t.

Though Eddie technically managed to stand his ground, with Robin’s warning stuck in his ear, running still won out. Just, not with his feet. “I’m dead, Steve. You, more than anyone, should understand what that means.” 

Steve’s gaze dropped, so many different warring emotions dancing across his pretty face before he finally looked back up. Eddie desperately wanted to know every single one, but he stayed quiet.

“I think that’s the first time you’ve said it like you believe it,” Steve said eventually, a small, sad smile curving his lips.

Eddie shrugged, trying so hard to smile back but he couldn’t seem to make it reach his eyes. “Well, I guess I'm starting to.”

For someone who’d been trying to convince him of the reality of his existence from the moment he’d appeared, Steve sure didn’t look happy about his sudden willingness to accept it. Eddie wasn’t thrilled with it either, particularly given his recent realizations, but there was no use in fighting the truth.

It wouldn’t change anything.

“Look, I wish things were different but they’re not and we just—we can’t go there, okay?” Eddie sighed, backing his way towards the hall, desperately needing to be anywhere but here, at least for a while. 

Standing there, looking into Steve’s wide puppy-dog eyes begging him to stay, was torture of the worst kind. It was also a foolproof recipe for surrender to this thing between them, and he couldn’t risk giving in no matter how much he wanted to. What could he even offer Steve like this?  Yes they could talk, and he would always be there for Steve in that way, or for however long he was allowed to haunt the guy, but there were some needs, and wants, that required more… right? 

Steve had to realize that.

“Besides, Big Boy,” Eddie said as he turned, unable to stop the frown that was tugging at his lips. “What would be the point?”

This time when he walked away, Steve let him go.

Steve took his time in the shower, letting the warm water run over his body long after he was clean, as if the spray alone could ease the disappointment that had settled into his bones. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about the sad, resigned look on Eddie’s face when he’d said it.

‘What would be the point?’

Steve had wanted to scream.

Everything?

Nothing?

What was the point of any of this bullshit if they were just going to roll over and give up when something good actually presented itself, without even trying to take it!

Inevitably, the hot water ran out and Steve had no choice but to leave the comfort and safety of his shower, carefully drying himself off and taping new clean bandages to his healing wounds.

He slipped on a pair of clean boxers and nothing else before falling into bed, more tired than he felt like he should be when all he’d done that day was walk around the house and argue with Robin, but he supposed that was what he got for not taking care of himself. He was leaning over to switch the bedside lamp off when Eddie appeared in his open doorway, left so out of habit and maybe a small spark of hope that Eddie might have a change of heart and seek him out.

“Hey,” Steve said, sinking back down into his bed and pulling the covers up higher on his chest. If by chance they were about to rehash the conversation from downstairs again, he didn’t really feel like being so exposed when Eddie doubled down on his rejection. 

“Can I come in?” Eddie said, the first time he’d actually asked permission to do anything since his arrival.

It didn’t feel like a good sign, but Steve grit his teeth and nodded.

“I, um…” Eddie stepped over the threshold and into the room, but hovered an awkward distance away from Steve and the bed, eyeing it cautiously. “I don’t—uh—I didn’t really like the way we left things earlier.”

Steve snorted, giving him half an eye roll. “I wasn’t a big fan either.”

“I’m sorry, okay?” Eddie pleaded, taking a few slow steps closer. “But you know I'm right. I mean, this whole thing is ridiculous anyway. Don’t we have bigger, much more important things to worry about than having stupid crushes on each other?!”

By the end of his brief speech Eddie was practically shouting, and Steve tried and failed to stifle a grin. It was so obviously taking all of Eddie’s self control not to stamp his feet.

“I don't recall actually admitting—”Steve began, but was quickly cut off.

“Harrington—” Eddie growled, glaring with all the fierceness of an especially adorable house cat as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

Steve couldn't resist copying him, sitting up to cross his own arms and pitch his voice as low as possible. “Munson—”

Eddie let out an exasperated sigh, raking a hand roughly over his face before stumbling closer, falling to his knees next to the bed. 

“Look, Eddie,” Steve said gently, something tight in his chest releasing as he scooched himself towards the edge. “If there's one thing I've learned in the last three years, it’s that there’s always going to be something else to worry about. But I’m done waiting to live my life when I know full well It could end with a snap of Vecna’s disgusting fingers. None of us knows how much time we’ve got left, and if all I have are these stolen moments between world ending disasters, then so be it. We’ll deal with Vecna when the time comes, but until then…” 

Steve trailed off, trying to find the words to explain to Eddie that he wanted this, that he’d already fought through his own worry and doubt, weighing the pros and cons as he rotted away in sleep for the last few days, but Eddie was already shaking his head.

“But I’m—”

“A ghost, yeah, I know,” Steve spat, cutting him off with a wave of his hand, and went on to say the single last sentence he ever thought he’d utter aloud and truly mean it. “It’s a good thing I was born a Harrington then, isn’t it.” 

Eddie said nothing, his jaw tightening, and his gaze remaining set on the comforter below.

“Unless…” Steve mumbled, worried now that maybe he’d misjudged. Maybe Eddie was trying to let him down easy, when really he just wasn’t all that interested. “Unless you don’t want—”

“Oh, I want,” Eddie blurted out, raising his head, his eyes burning with enough open, naked desire that it lit Steve’s skin on fire and burned away the last of his uncertainty. “More than what I ever thought was realistic to hope for. But you deserve better than what I could give you like this. I'd be happy enough to just be your platonic invisible friend for the rest of your life. What if we try this and you regret it, and then you're stuck with the ghost of your ex hanging around?”

Steve sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. It was a fair thought, and this was uncharted territory, but even if it was just a crush, as Eddie had called it, even if they got together and one day it fizzled out, Steve couldn’t imagine regretting any time spent with Eddie. 

“The only thing I regret is not getting to know you better when you were alive. Not being able to touch you now? Yeah, it kills me. And I know we could never have a normal relationship, that it’ll never be real, but I want this, you, in whatever way I can.”

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, scrunching them tight, the faintest hint of a whine escaping him as he let his chin fall to his chest.

Steve worried at his bottom lip, letting the silence stretch on in hopes that Eddie would say something, anything.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Eddie finally whispered as he raised his head again, a new resolve  reaching out to hover his hand just above Steve’s cheek, warming it, and making the rest of his body shudder, suddenly aching with need. “Just because we can't touch the usual way, why would that ever mean it wasn’t real?”

The impulse to surge forward and capture Eddie’s lips was intense, but Steve managed to hold back. This would be a delicate dance to learn, but he was sure they could figure it out together.

“Tell me,” Steve purred, letting all the longing he felt leak into his tone, just as he would have made Eddie feel it through his kiss if he could have. Gathering his old confidence, he tossed the covers aside, revealing his mostly naked body, save for the thin white briefs he wore and the fresh gauze at his sides. “Talk me through it, Eddie. What would you do to me right now, if you could?”

Eddie’s eyes raked up and down his body hungrily, a low groan emanating from deep in his throat like a warning, “Steve.”

“Tell me,” Steve said again, quiet as a whisper, as he let his fingers play along the hair on his lower stomach. He felt so exposed, but so safe at the same time under Eddie’s reverent, watchful gaze. “Please?”

“Fuuuck,” Eddie cursed softly, raising himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. “Okay, yes, I…”

A thrill ran up Steve’s spine, anticipation already making him reach for the waistband of his underwear until Eddie’s voice, deeper than he’d ever heard it, made him freeze.

“Wait.”

For one frightening moment he thought Eddie was changing his mind, calling it off, and he almost reached for the covers in embarrassment, but then Eddie spoke again, leaning over his body with shining, eager eyes. 

“I wouldn’t rush it if I had my way with you, Steve,” Eddie said softly, running his tongue along his bottom lip. “I’d start with that lovely mouth of yours. I’d spend hours memorizing the feel of your lips against mine, and the taste of them, if you’d let me.”

Steve slowly raised his hand to his face, running the tips of his fingers softly over his lips as he met Eddie’s eyes, wishing it was the real thing.

“Close your eyes,” Eddie whispered.

Without hesitation Steve complied, pursing his lips again to kiss the pads of his fingers and found it really was easier this way. Easy to pretend he could taste Eddie’s mouth. Lips dry, but soft. Sweet with a hint of cigarette. He imagined the scents that would fill his nose as they made out in the backseat of his car, hairspray and smoke, the warm earthy smell of leather as he grabbed Eddie by the collar of his jacket and pulled him in impossibly closer.

“Only when we’re both panting and desperate for air would I stop, giving your swollen lips a rest while I kiss down your neck.”

Steve pressed his lips to his fingers one last time before running his tongue over them, trailing the wet touch down his chin and over his throat.

“Would you let me mark you there, sweetheart? Suck a bruise into your skin where everyone could see it?”

The possessive bite to Eddie’s otherwise softly spoken question was enough to have Steve already whimpering pathetically. “Yes,” he gasped, hardly able to recognize the wanton, breathy sound as his own voice. “Please, Eddie.”

“So pretty when you beg for it.” 

This time Eddie’s words were spoken right next to his ear, so close to where his own fingers were pressed. Close enough for him to feel a bit of the warm aura that surrounded Eddie’s form, like it was Eddie’s real hot breath washing over his skin. His cock twitched for it, filling out and straining against the tight fabric of his briefs, a sensation so similar to that of a hand palming him that his hips bucked, searching out a deeper friction.

“Needy boy,” Eddie murmured. “I’d make my way to your chest next.”

Steve sucked in a breath, forcing his hips to still as he ran both of his hands down to his chest without needing to be told.

“So good for me.” Eddie’s voice trembled, a strained quality to it that told Steve without a doubt that this was all affecting Eddie just as much as it was him. 

“Do you have any idea how long I've wanted this?” Eddie went on at a whisper, the sound moving lower just as Steve’s hands had. “To rest my hands against that chest of yours, rake my fingers through all the thick hair. I almost lost my mind when you took your shirt off on that little boat, and not out of fear.”

Steve remembered the moment well. The terror of knowing what he was likely to find at the bottom of the lake, the fear that nothing they did would make a difference in the end anyway. A fear that had partially come to pass, but he wasn’t thinking about that now. Instead he recalled the way he’d looked back to see Eddie staring at him openly, those big brown doe eyes catching the moonlight almost as well as they’d caught Steve’s attention. It was far from the first time he’d noticed Eddie in that way, but it was the first time he realized the attraction might be mutual. So, he’d smirked, and he’d thrown his sweater into Eddie’s stunned arms for safekeeping, a subtle attempt at flirting, but an attempt nonetheless.

“I would have let you,” Steve said with a grin. He kept his eyes shut tight but it was easy to hear the answering smile in Eddie’s voice when he huffed a laugh.

“I can see that now.”

Picturing ringed hands in place of his own, Steve could almost feel the cool metal gliding over his skin when he ran his fingers through the thatch of hair on his chest. He paused, taking a handful and gripping it tight, giving it a light tug. He hissed at the sharp feel of it, pulling harder and arching his back as he moaned. 

“That’s it,” Eddie cooed softly. “I had a feeling you’d like a little pain with your pleasure.”

Eddie wasn’t wrong. Steve had often longed for a rougher hand, and maybe some other things, in the bedroom, but hadn’t quite known how to ask any of the girls he’d been with for what he wanted, even if they’d have been willing to give it to him. With Eddie though, he was starting to get the most wonderful feeling that he wouldn’t have to ask at all.

“Mustn’t neglect the most sensitive part of your chest, hmm?” Eddie hummed. “I’d keep playing with your chest hair, teasing little pulls that are never quite enough to reach that sting you’re craving, until I take one of your nipples into my mouth, rolling my tongue around the edge until it pebbles up, and finally biting down.”

Though his dick was screaming for attention, Steve obeyed, performing the torturous touch to himself with one hand just as Eddie had described, using his other, and the light touch of a fingertip, to circle his already pert nipple before pinching it as hard as he dared.

Lightning shot down his spine, while a high-pitched whine was forced from his lips. It wasn’t until he let go, fighting to catch his breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, that he felt the small wet spot in his underwear, the almost cold feel of the cotton pressing back against him. 

He was dripping. 

Eddie was taking him apart piece by piece with nothing but his voice and his words. He was harder than he’d ever been in his life, leaking precome, and his briefs hadn’t even come off yet.

“You’re so fucking hot like this, all laid out for me like a banquet, letting me do whatever I want with you.”

“Anything… everything. Just, please… don’t stop.”

“Anything, huh?” Eddie mused. “So if I kissed a line down the center of your chest and ran my tongue along the length of your delectable happy trail, only to stop cold at the waistband of your underwear, you’d just lay there and take it?”

Steve’s hands moved to comply of their own volition, even as he pleaded for more.

“Please, Eddie. I need… I need…”

Eddie shushed him quietly. “I know, baby, I’ve got you. I’m gonna make you feel so good, I promise. I just prefer to open my gifts carefully, that’s all. I would take that bit of fabric between my teeth and slowly pull them down your hips, your thighs, and all the way to your ankles and off so I could spread your legs as wide as I like.”

With shaking fingers, Steve finally took hold of his briefs, tugging them down bit by bit until his cock was freed, slapping against his lower stomach with a light smack. He had to tuck his legs up to finish stripping them off, but he didn’t let that take him out of the fantasy, and when he was finally laid bare he placed a hand on each of his knees, pushing them apart wide until he heard Eddie choke on air.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect.” 

As much as the compliments and praise were doing for him, and they really were doing it for him, Steve felt like he was on the verge of losing his sanity. 

Thankfully, Eddie seemed to be of the same mind.

“Lovely as it is to torture both of us, I wouldn’t be able to resist wrapping my lips around you immediately, letting your cock fill my mouth until my spit pooled at the base of it, taking it all the way to the back of my throat until I choked.”

Just being surrounded by the husky sound of Eddie's voice, hearing him explain in detail how he’d work him over with that clever mouth had Steve ready to blow, and it almost had him hesitating to take himself in hand.

Almost.

His need for relief, for release, won out over his worry of ending their fun too soon. Besides, if this experience they were sharing now meant what he desperately hoped it meant, then there would be other opportunities to expand their play in the future.

Still, he started slow, taking only the head of his cock in his palm at first, smearing around the precome that had been steadily leaking from his slit this entire time, and envisioning Eddie’s tongue circling before his lips closed tightly around his shaft. He groaned at the sight in his mind’s eye, gripping himself tighter and letting more of his cock slide through his fist as he thought of the way Eddie’s eyes might begin to water when he took the full length to the back of his throat.

“Has anyone ever explored this tight little hole of yours?”

There was no mistaking it, Eddie’s voice came from directly between Steve’s legs. He really was laying there, probably spread out on his stomach, his face inches from Steve’s most intimate parts.

Steve’s breath hitched, speeding up the pace of his hand as he jerked himself off. “No, but I–I want you to. Want you to be the first,” he choked out.

In truth he had attempted to finger himself once or twice, but no one else had ever touched him there. He never managed to get the right angle to find his prostate, but the feeling of being entered, that fullness, had still helped him come in record time.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie cursed, sounding as wrecked as Steve felt. “You’re a dream, sweetheart, I can’t believe I get to have you like this. I’m gonna need you to wet my fingers for me, since my mouth is a little busy elsewhere. Do you think you can do that?”

Steve nodded, too lost in the heady cocktail of lust and desire running through him to form any more words, the lines between fantasy and reality blurring as two fingers were shoved into his mouth. He moaned around the intrusion, nearly gagging himself as he took the digits deeper, wanting to make sure he did the job thoroughly for Eddie.

“Good fucking boy,” Eddie crooned, a deep rumbling bass. ��I think you’re ready for me now.”

While one hand still bobbed up and down his length, Steve reached under his raised leg with the other until he found his rim, circling, spreading the spit around the edge of his hole. He tried to push the tip of one finger inside, gently at first but the resistance was too much and he was too keyed up to wait or relax. He pressed in hard, a loud, piteous whine forcing its way out of his throat when it finally popped inside. The burning stretch was small, fading too quickly for Steve to really enjoy and he was quickly begging for more. 

“Another,” Steve gasped, working the finger in and out of his hole until it slid easily, down to the knuckle. “Please, Eddie, I need more.”

“Okay, baby. If you're sure.”

God, Eddie was going to ruin him with all these pet names just as sure as he was ruining him with the rest of it. Every baby, every sweetheart, had his heart filling dangerously close to the brim.

“I’m sure… need you.”

Steve’s mouth dropped open as he worked his middle finger in next to the first, and quickly got what he’d been wanting, that intense pressure bordering on pain, the incredible feeling of being stuffed full. As he fucked himself in earnest, caught between bucking his hips up to drive his cock into his fist, and wriggling down to meet the thrusting of his hand, he lost control of himself completely, loud cries of pleasure falling from his lips near constantly.

“You close, baby?” Eddie asked, voice gone taut, strained as though he were the one balancing on the edge of the most intense orgasm of his life.

“So close. I’m—” was all Steve could manage in reply as he felt his length suddenly being engulfed by Eddie’s unique effervescent warmth. It was such a surprise that he couldn’t help finally snapping his eyes open, seeing Eddie’s translucent fist hovering around his own as he rabbited up into the clutch of them together. The sight alone was more than enough to send him hurtling over that last breathtaking cliff.

He came with Eddie's name on his lips, looking deep into Eddie’s eyes and it made all the pretending, all the imagining feel so fucking real. His orgasm seemed to go on forever, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over him as his dick pulsed in his grip, coating his hand and dripping down his inner thigh.

“Kiss me!” Steve cried, forgetting for a split second that they couldn’t. 

But he didnt take it back. It didn’t matter that it wouldn’t feel the same, the phantom brush of Eddie’s mouth on his would be better than a normal kiss from anyone else. He was absolutely sure of it.

Eddie crawled up higher on the bed, and as if he too had forgotten his limitations brought his mouth crashing down onto Steve’s without hesitation.

The first touch was indeed warm, as all Eddie’s touches were, but it was also firm and real. Eddie’s lips were plush, as soft as they looked, a perfect compliment to the light scratch of stubble as they both leaned in, deepening the kiss. For a solid minute Eddie licked into his mouth, and it tasted exactly as Steve had imagined, but better. 

Because it was really him.

All too soon the feeling was gone, whatever connection they had that allowed for such things failing in an instant.

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbled, pulling back, as if it were his fault.

Steve wasn’t so sure it was, but hopefully their research tomorrow would help shed some light on it all. “Don’t be sorry, it was perfect,” he said with a small shake of his head. “You were perfect.”

Reluctantly Steve slid off the bed, knowing he had to clean up before the sticky mess he’d made spread any more and got on his clean bandages. He plucked his still damp towel from the hamper and gave himself a quick wipe down before climbing back into bed, next to a now pensive looking Eddie. 

“Lay with me?” Steve asked through a yawn.

Without a word Eddie laid down facing him, and after only a second’s hesitation slid his arms around and sort-of through Steve’s body. 

It made for an unusual sight but it was everything Steve wanted, and needed, in that moment, caring, comfortable, warm. He let out a contented sigh, feeling his body go boneless as he relaxed into the sheets, and was asleep before he even registered that his eyes had closed.

Thanks as always to @penny00dreadful for being the best beta and an absolutely amazing cheerleader!

Permanent taglist (open): @penny00dreadful @pearynice @hitlikehammers @sidekick-hero @firefly-party

@bookworm0690 @wonderland-girl143-blog  @goodolefashionedloverboi @themagicalari @awkwardgravity1

@rocknrollsalad @eternal-sunflowers @cringe-culture-is-dead-99 @estrellami-1 @theintrovertedintrovert

Fic taglist (open): @geekymagicalpotato

[charliegyrth]

My Former Best Friend - Part 1 of 5

Landon Reenters My Life

I was home alone, watching Drag Race and snacking on popcorn, when my doorbell rang.

“One second!” I called.

It was just past 11:00, too late for any surprise visitors. I assumed my neighbor Dani had locked herself out of her house again.

I didn’t bother brushing down my unruly curls or washing off my face mask or even pulling pants over my boxer briefs. Dani didn’t care what I looked like.

But when I opened the door, I jerked backward and my hands immediately covered my crotch. “Landon?!”

Before he could say anything, I raced into my bedroom and pulled on my sweatpants. Then I used my bathroom to wash the hardened green pore-cleaner from my face.

“Um? Can I come in?” Landon called from the doorway.

“One second!” I ran back out, looking slightly more presentable. Now that I was a little bit calmer, I invited him inside and led him into the living room.

He dragged a suitcase behind him.

I hadn’t seen Landon in six years, not since high school. In that time, he’d buzzed off his red hair (I think he gotten a bald spot like his dad) and he’d filled out with a bit more muscle, especially around the chest. Otherwise, he looked exactly the same.

He sat awkwardly on my recliner.

I sat on the end table, as far away from him as possible without being rude.

“So. It’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” I said coldly. (Okay, I wanted to be a little rude.)

“Look, I know you probably don’t want to see me, but I’m… pretty desperate. My wife just kicked me out and all my friends have… Well, none of them will let me crash at their place. I don’t have anywhere else to go, and I thought that, you know, we used to be best friends. That should count for something, right?”

I cut to the chase. “You need a place to stay.”

“Yeah.”

“Kay. Let me guess what happened. Your wife kicked you out because you did something awful. I’m guessing… adultery.” (He looked away. I was on the right track.) “And you asked all your friends and family, but everyone said no. So I’m your dead-last choice. You came here, without calling first, and expect me to let you in.”

He nodded.

“You could’ve warned me.”

“If I did, would you have said yes?”

“Definitely not.”

I took a long look at him. He was still handsome in that frat-dude kind of way. But despite his wide frame and athletic body, he looked vulnerable and small.

On some level, I felt sorry for him. I thought back to all the good times we had together as kids, back when he was the always-loyal boy-next-door.

I couldn’t forget the other stuff, though. The betrayal. The abandonment. The bullying.

Sophomore year, he was the first person I came out to. I was so freaking nervous, but I knew that out of anyone, Landon would have my back. He didn’t. He stopped returning my calls, avoided me at school, and straight-up ignored me when I saw him outside his house.

Worse, he got a bunch of new friends. Popular jock friends who bullied me nonstop. At first, he just ignored the bullying and let them taunt me. Then he started laughing along with them. And by senior year, he had become the instigator. The head bully. The guy who ruined my prom tux with pink spray paint and then got away with it because his dad was friends with the principal.

I knew that a lot of his actions had to do with his own insecurities. His oldest friend was gay, and in order to prove that he wasn’t like me, that he was manly and normal, he’d turned into my biggest nightmare. But that’s no excuse! That just makes it worse.

He was the reason I barely said a word my senior year, just keeping my head down and trying to survive until college.

I’d kept tabs on him over the years. (We’d friended each other on Facebook, back when that was still a thing.) We never communicated, of course, but I checked in every once in a while to see what had happened to my former friend.

Not surprisingly, he’d gone to college, joined a frat, married his bitchy-looking girlfriend, and started work at LA Fitness. Living the stereotype, I guess.

It had been a couple years since I’d bothered to check up on him. I’d fully and completely moved on from my terrible adolescence.

And now here he was. I felt a nice bit of schadenfreude knowing that his life had fallen apart. (And a bit more schadenfreude knowing that he’d started losing his hair in the last couple years.) But I had a bunch of other emotions rushing through me, too. Sadness. Sympathy. Anger. Surprise.

“So?” he asked, waiting for my answer. “Can I crash here for a bit?”

“Yeah,” I said.

His eyes widened. He wasn’t expecting that. Well, maybe he was. He’d brought his suitcase.

“If you apologize first.”

“Oh.”

“If that’s a dealbreaker, then you need to leave.”

“No. I just… Can we do that later? I have this whole speech planned.”

“Save your speech. Just think about high school, and list off everything you’re sorry for.”

“A list?”

I stared at him, waiting. There was nothing more I could say.

He took a breath. “I’m sorry for everything.”

“Be more specific.”

He shifted in his seat. He really didn’t want to confess to anything, but I wouldn’t let him stay here unless he did.

“I’m sorry for abandoning you. For defacing your locker. For calling you names...”

“What names?” I pushed. “Jog my memory.”

He spewed out a disgusting stream of homophobic slurs (some I didn’t even remember) and he looked so uncomfortable doing it. Each word hurt to hear, but they seemed to hurt him even more.

“Go on.”

“I’m sorry for ruining your prom. I’m sorry for posting those photos. I’m sorry for convincing Mr. Diehl to make you read that poem in class.”

He kept going, listing off the thousand ways that he’d made my life miserable. Most of what he said was seared into my memory. Some things I’d completely blocked out. A few things I didn’t remember at all.

When he was done, he whispered one final, “I’m sorry.” He was crying.

It was the most cathartic five minutes of my life.

“Thank you,” I said. I didn’t say that I forgave him, because I didn’t. I walked over, pulled him to his feet, and hugged him. He felt warm in my arms.

That hug was more for me than him, another step toward getting over the past. But as I held him, I could feel his body relax inside my arms. A weight was lifting off his shoulders, still there but much less crushing.

I left him standing there and headed into the kitchen. I came back with two beers and a plate of cheesecake that I was saving for my Oscars party next week. I think we both needed it.

As we drank, I told Landon the rules of the house. He could use the guest room. We were going to share a bathroom, so he had to keep his stuff out of my way. He’d need to buy his own food.

Stuff like that.

He said he’d only stay here a month before he could find a cheap apartment. And he kept thanking me over and over.

Once we got all that out of the way, I had one final rule. The biggest one. “You still know that I’m gay, right? And I’m happy with myself. If you’re living here, I don’t want any more comments. Or bullying. I don’t want to be reminded of any of the shit you pulled in high school. Especially if I bring a guy over. If you break that rule, I will throw you out immediately. No second chances. Got it?”

“Joey.”

“Got it?” I said more forcefully.

“Yes. I got it. But…”

“No buts,” I shouted. “Unless I’m f*cking them.” I said that last part just to make him uncomfortable.

It did, but not in the way I intended.

“Joey, listen.”

“It’s Joe now.”

“Joe. I’m not going to hurt you again. I promise.” He took a big bite of cheesecake as a way to… What? Stall for time? Build up confidence? “The reason Trish left me and all my friends won’t talk to me… is because…”

“Because you cheated.”

“With my coworker Paul.”

I took a bite of cheesecake, too. Definitely to stall for time. “What?”

“I was in the closet, Joey… Joe. Sorry… I, um…” He was straight-up sobbing now. He took the entire container of cheesecake and started shoveling it into his mouth. Just eating and crying.

This made me reevaluate everything. Our entire past had just changed, and all his horrible actions took on completely new shapes.

I wanted to hold him. I really did. But instead, I wordlessly stood up and left the room.

He kept eating by himself.

Read Part 2 here. You can find all my stories here.

[yama-uba]

Guys, it can't be that I'm the only one who thought about what analogues of the camping van the Snipers of the other teams have.

If you haven't thought about it, then I present to your attention a small piece of my headcanon:

As we all know, our druid-assassin (who is not a crazy shooter who has pissed all over New Mexico) is a nomad in his 1960s Land Rover Series II "Defender". It fits in well with the "down-to-earth" style of the Redmonds corporation, but at the same time retains part of the "romantic roads" vibe from motoboho in the form of ethnicity, massive choppers and a dusty hot road, going somewhere beyond the horizon.

If you are interested or need it for a fanfic, then this is a Pickup truck, produced in the period 1958 - 1971 J-class with all-wheel drive, a four-speed manual transmission, a gasoline engine with a capacity of 52 horsepower. It is noteworthy that the car is left-hand drive.

In that small tent-extension in the back of this model, many ficwriters manage to fit: a full-fledged kitchen (with a refrigerator, an cabinet, and a gas stove), a "guest" and sometimes even a full-fledged bathroom (with a separate sink and a stationary shower), sometimes a TV, a full-fledged dining table with two sofas (sometimes it can be transformed into an additional "guest" sexodrome), two people are able to move around this space, and sometimes Mick or his guest literally "walk back and forth" thinking about something in this camper. To top it all off, there is a bed on the second tier, capable of accommodating two (sometimes more than two) adult men. I will tell you that this is not an error in the perception of space, no, my dears, it's just that the fancanon implies that the Australians are at such a level of technological development that they are beginning the gradual introduction of multidimensional systems for storing and compressing baryonic matter in everyday items of mass consumption.

Well, this Kemp, loaded with "knives", rifles, telescopic sights and lead of various calibers, knew more love than the average hippiemobile.

Blue Sniper - of course it's water. I used to think of a houseboat that could be loaded onto a trailer behind an Engineer's pickup truck or something. But then I thought that would be too restrictive for a nomadic, free-spirited person. But a hovercraft is a new level of freedom both on land and on water. And to me it's very Australian

The AP1-88 is a multi-purpose hovercraft, produced around the early 1960s in Britain, the size of a full-size bus (30 meters long and 12 wide from the tips of the "skirt"), 2 diesel engines for lifting and 2 for driving, each with over 900 horsepower, up to 23 tons for loading and a displacement of over 60 tons. Welcome to the "Glamping" level.

Well, it's quite a "floating apartment", if not a full-fledged micro-house with 1.5 bathrooms, two bedrooms, a kitchen-living room and a pantry. However, this "crocodile" still prefers to store his "sink" in the garage and live on the base during working hours. However, even on vacation, he can often be found "meditating" on the float of his fishing rod somewhere on the local reservoir not far from civilization, as opposed to Mundy. "Sniper #2" of these deadly lands keeps close to his "pack" of poms, as if guarding them, but he keeps his distance from strangers.

Yellow Sniper is definitely the opposite of Mick Mundy in his non-serious attitude to work (he is quite happy with the title of the first from the end shooter in all of New Mexico, since he views work simply as a source of money, and he works in the style of "Italian strike"), and he is also an ossified extrovert (in fact, he began his journey from his native continent precisely because he likes to get to know and communicate with alien "poms civilizations"). Therefore, his elements are the sky and water, away from asphalt and dust. The water plane also fits perfectly into the industrial port theme of the Yellow Team.

DHC-2 "Beaver" is a single-engine light aircraft with short takeoff and landing, designed for wilderness areas, circa 1960s, Canadian production. Length is about 10 meters, wingspan is 15 meters, takeoff weight is 2.5 tons, holds 6 passengers and almost a ton of cargo. Modification: on an amphibious float chassis.

In my opinion, an excellent option for replacing a canvas tent, especially at sunset somewhere in the middle of Lake Chad, or at dawn in the heart of the Everglades or somewhere on a noisy night at the port fish market in Singapore. This is a different, but equally exciting romance of a wild endless journey.

It seems we forgot someone. Green Sniper, in principle, like his entire team, are quite mysterious and not so much because their team is based in the thicket of a forest that is unexpected for New Mexico and that their de facto leader is their Spy. The fact is that none of the mercenaries from other teams have seen his camp, and maybe not even his own team too. However, everyone is sure that this is all somehow connected with the spot of dry gravel that always remains near the sawmill after the rain. And the fact that this spot has a fanciful silhouette like the shadow of some unknown animal or alien ship… which is always under an active invisibility field of enormous size…

Well, what are your versions of this?

[freddleafton12345-blog]

Enderman x reader hc's, fluff and nsfw! MINORS DNI

- the Endermen are very tall beings. So when you guys first meet, he has to crouch down to get a better look at you

- this one didn't seem to mind eye contact, which baffled you. But, you got even more confused when he started walking and looked back for you to follow. When you did, he brought you to a diamond ore!

- since then, your new friend was a big help! And you really enjoyed having his company, even if it was quite odd

- yes, he couldn't speak, but! He taught you the language of the Endermen, so you could communicate!

- you sat beside him and wrote down notes in your journal as he drew out the alphabet for you. You were shocked he could write at all, but it was quite useful

- he often collected blocks for you and set them outside your door, then vanished. So when you exit your house, there's random blocks there

- the 1st time physical touch happened was sort of cute. Dare I say, romantic. You were out hunting when a huge storm hit. You ran through the woods, hoping to hurry home before you would get drenched. But then, bam! You're suddenly underneath a huge tree, pulled up against someone's chest

- it was your friend! He seemed concerned about you, and so he sat down and hugged you. He was trying to keep you warm!

- after getting over internal thoughts that won't be discussed, (not yet anyway) you snuggled into his chest, then fell asleep

- when you woke up, you were in your bed, at home, with the Enderman standing right beside the bed

- you thanked him for his generosity, and he nodded. Then you managed to speak to him with his language. "Why did you help?"

- "...because...you're...mine..."

- well that shocked the fuck out of you- he saw you as his mate? Well he's sort of human so hey! Might as well give it a shot, no?

- cuddles are fun. He's always the big spoon and demands he gets to cradle you. Especially during rainy days

- he can't cook, but he will go out and mark the best spots for fishing and hunting so you know where to go (he gags along to protect you)

- since he can't stand the water, you have a different method of getting him nice and clean. Damp towels! It's enough water to remove dirt, and it doesn't seem to be so much water that'll cause him pain!

- he doesn't understand what "I love you" means at 1st because his kind just gift each other blocks as a sign of courtship. So he slowly starts learning to say it to you everyday

- he's got sharp fangs, no lips really. So kisses are rare at 1st until you grow used to it, and it doesn't bug you at all

- I feel like the Endermen are sort of warm to the touch. It doesn't hurt at all, it's just like human body heat, just a tiny bit hotter! So when it snows, feel free to cuddle in his lap!

- if another Enderman sees you and tries hurting you, they are DEAD in mere seconds-

, you ended up making him a dark purple cloak with an EnderPearl pendant clip, and he never takes it off. It's his most cherished gift from you

- if you try climbing trees or high spots in cliffs, he either holds you up so you can climb better, or he teleports you

- he didn't really sleep because he's nocturnal. Even during the day, he only took short minutes to rest his body, not his eyes or mind. So he struggles to actually sleep, but with you beside him in a nice, warm bed, he learned how to sleep fairly fast

- pepper him in kisses, rub his shoulders, run lines along his chest, and he starts making low appreciative growls

- he reciprocates this by gently running his hands up and down your arms or your back, maybe even your hips

Nsfw

- when you 1st tried cleaning his body with a damp towel, you ran your hands down to his legs, then that's when you felt it. Something poking your forehead-

- it was about 3ft long and purple, almost like a tentacle of sorts

- your lover made embarrassed sounds and looked away, like he felt bad about the situation

- but you could tell he was probably struggling to hold back, and how could you leave him to suffer?

- "hey, it's okay. You just have urges, like everybody else. No big deal! I can help you!" You told him

- "help...me..." He sounded so desperate

- so you began sucking and licking the tip, occasionally gagging because of the tendril-like member moving on its own down your throat

- the Enderman groaned and gently grabbed your hair, slowly thrusting into your mouth. He enjoyed that his mate was willing to help him out

- now, I hc an Enderman is very protective over their mates, and they mate for life. So he cherishes every sex moment with you as much as possible. It means you really trust him!

- he's got a long, purple tongue, so kisses are steamy mwehehe

- he often is the top, only because, as the male, he's more dominant. You figured male Endermen are usually that way, so you didn't mind

- his tentacle d!ck felt so amazing when it was thrusted into your body at inhuman speeds, and he goes fast and hard

- when he's close to cumming, he gently bites your shoulder or neck and hugs you as close to him as possible

- he prefers dog style because it's easier for him, but if you help him learn new positions, he's willing to try!

- he definitely eats you out in the best ways possible

- you tasted so sweet and good, he couldn't stop himself from eating you like he's been starved for weeks

- you're always welcome to suck him off too!

- he doesn't enjoy any pain kinks because he's scared to hurt you. He prefers fast and hard, but not too over the top

- aftercare? He isn't sure what that is. All he does is cuddle you, but if you teach him what aftercare is, he's sure to get it down soon

- his sex drive isn't super huge. I'd say it happens either once or twice a month, and he does have heat seasons. When he's in heat, his sex drive lasts for about 3-4 days

Hah I got carried away writing this garbage reblog if u want :'D))

[thistle--bug]

Watching KinnPorsche for the first time

I finally ended the semester so I am buckling in and watching KinnPorche for the first time (and rambling about it here). I have heard very mixed feedback on it and thought I'd finally watch it to have my own opinion. I honestly have no idea whether I'll like it or hate it but let's go!

Episode 1:

Not that I know much about it, but right off the bat the cinematography is really good. I love all the colorful lighting and wide shots.

Italian mafia is involved I guess?

That intro where we cut back and forth between Kinn and Porsche is *chef's kiss*

Porsche is well established as a character from the start and as cliche as it is, I love when a character's motivation is their sibling :,)

They are very dear to me!

The fight scenes feel well choreographed and exciting to me

Sidenote; Kinn dons truly impressive eyebrows. I keep getting distracted because I'm staring at them in awe

Kinn feels so genuinely threatening in the bar scene where he kidnaps Porsche

I wonder if the show will ever go into classism...probably not but there's a lot of material to work with

Man fuck the uncle. Your nephew works his ass off to pay off a debt and pay for his brothers education and you spend it all? Bitch

Okay initial thoughts: This is really immersive. Kinn so far is kind of just hot-tempered and arrogant, so I'm interested to learn more about him. The tension was really convincing and I wanted to mention the music too! The intro slaps of course, but the background music is chosen very well and adds to the immersion

Episode 2:

Okay what the hell. The first episode had some elements of humor but was very much not a comedy and felt more serious and tense. This is straight up a comedy now and I'm not really about it

Like Porsche did not want to do this job at all because his morals don't align with it, and I would have liked to see him grapple with that more. We saw how panicked he was after he escaped Kinn in the first episode and how he immediately told Porchay to pack his bags and how much he cares about him....and in this episode he doesn't even mention Porchay? He must be worried sick about his brother and it's killing him not to be able to communicate with him. Can we SEE THAT maybe?? And he was so antsy around guns in the first episode that you think he'd struggle with it instead of being like "wow this is just like james bond :D" idk. Maybe I'm nitpicking but his character feels so reduced in this episode.

Oh hi Pete from tumblr gifs :) Glad Porsche at least has a friend who can help him out

Again, did not match the tone AT ALL but I do like Tankhun

Like this was funny but it's just such an INSANE tone shift from episode one. Like it just felt like a gag reel

The minor family is very interested in Porsche for some reason idk, HOWEVER I do recognize Vegas also from tumblr gifs >:)

Anyways. Weird ass episode. I wouldn't mind this if episode one was also like a weird gag reel but it wasn't. I wish they would actually go into the stuff they had set up.

Episode 3:

You know what, good for Tankhun, he needed to go out lol. Curious about the kidnapping when he was younger? Will it be elaborated on?

Oh a fashion icon

Last episode Pete said something about Kinn being kind before something happened, and now Kinn is beating up a guy for embezzling and selling his secret. Curious once again about this guys backstory

Ok we're back to taking Porsche seriously let's go! We're actually addressing his conflicted feelings and how he's essentially doing the same job as the people who hurt him and his family when they couldn't pay their debt on time. And delving into Kinn being more bothered about his job than we thought

GIVE IT UP FOR WOUND TENDING

JEFF SATUR😭💝🥰💓😍💗😚💕

Ok way better than episode 2. We are back on track

Episode 4:

Poor Macau lmao??? Tankhun was like thank you Porsche for hitting him he deserved that and you are now my hero and now Vegas is like yeah sometimes I wanna beat his ass too. This poor kid

"You're afraid that when you open your heart, you will be hurt again?" Damn Vegas. The vibe between these two is rancid. What is their DEAL with each other...

"How did you not know Kinn was gay?" you're kind of right Pete

Kim having a giant portrait of himself framed in his house...iconic. And his crimeboard???

Porsche I'm so sorry :( Will they take him being raped seriously? Probably not

Hm.

I bet Kim is "suddenly" going to offer Porchay guitar lessons after all because he suspects him for...something idk. Whatever the crimeboard is about

[shalom-iamcominghome]

hey, shalom! so i'm looking to convert and i sent an email to a local shul explaining that i'm interested in converting and that i'd like to start attending services (their website asks that you send them an email beforehand if you're gonna be attending and haven't before) but they haven't gotten back to me yet. it's only been a few days but i'm now worried they're not gonna get back to me and idk don't like me based off my email (silly i know). how much time do you think has to have passed before i should assume the email has gotten lost and i need to send a follow up email or call them? i don't want to pester them obviously and of course i understand they might be busy. i was assuming 2-3 weeks? i think i'm mostly looking for reassurance that they will get back to me in time and i have no reason to worry about it

I definitely empathize with you; I think what helps is remembering that many shuls are either small enough that it's only one person operating the domain, or they're cautious and it isn't about you, but moreso about ensuring the safety of the community.

I sent an email to the shul I go to, and it took a bit for them to get back to me. As it turns out, only one person operates the domain and is incredibly busy all the time with improving the shul, the cemetery, and organizing. I ended up getting a call from him personally where I discussed a bit of my background, which I think can be very helpful.

Because of how close shabbos is right now (I'm reading this on a friday afternoon), it might also be a conflict. You may not have sent the email anywhere near shabbos, but l-rd knows how hard it is to read email every day (one of my toxic traits, and I know it permeates a good chunk of the jewish community 😭). I'm so psyched for you, and I'm sure you're full of nerves, but it'll work out! I'd say that you are correct; sending a follow-up email after a few weeks could be a good reminder, but just know that it can sometimes just be a matter of time. I hope you hear back soon🩵🩵

[broken-clover]

I have a deep (if slightly confused) sense of respect for the Honsim enjoyers solely on the metric that they saw all of those conventionally attractive prettyboys getting paired with one another, then looked at the two resident old dudes and went 'yeah, them. I want those ones.'

[martinskiseyes]

.

[nexus-nebulae]

thinking about when i had such intense phantom limbs as a kid i told my math teacher about it

[bangcakes]

.