#but I gotta be in a space to sit down and actually write the poetry. so

[candaru]

I will not change myself to be who you want me to be.

[bettsfic]

betts i want to get back into writing but i find my ideas so stupid and unoriginal and i think I've lost touch with what im trying to say or what i naturally used to gravitate towards before trying to make myself more palatable to others

it sounds like you've hit a writing ceiling, anon.

i think when you get better at something, progress doesn't happen at a slow, even pace. you work at one level for a long time and then suddenly you're ready to level up, and it can happen so fast that it's disorienting. sometimes there's not even a reason for it. your brain is just, "bored now, let's gooooo," like a kid tugging your arm desperate to get out of there.

but there's kind of an awkward elevator period too, where you're on your way to the next level but not on the floor of the previous one. it's a very frustrating space to be, because all you can do is wait for the doors to open, and you never know how long it's going to take.

it sounds like if you're coming back to writing from a long time away, you're visiting the floor you were on the last time you wrote, when you really belong on the next. you're bringing a new lens to old work. so you've gotta find the elevator or a stairwell or a jetpack or whatever to get you to the next floor.

ultimately what i think is stupid and unoriginal might be life-changing for someone else. and what i think is important and profound, someone else might find trite and meaningless. i try to make myself actually shape those two people in my mind. maybe some 21 year old fanperson who has no idea if they'll ever make it as a writer will read my stuff and go, "if she can do this, i can do this." (to which i say, yes you can!) and maybe a well-meaning 60 year old man will read my stuff and go, "the hell even is this? what am i reading?" both perspectives are equally valid, because once my work is being read it is no longer about me. it's about the reader who is bringing their entire life to each of my sentences, and reading it for their own personal benefit. your work will never benefit everyone, but it will benefit a few, and you can focus on writing to the eager younger person who needs to hear what you have to say, and not the middle aged man who has to get his daughter to reboot his phone. that man has tom clancy to read. but that eager younger person has you.

what sucks about being on the elevator is that it's made of glass and you're looking down on the floor you just came from. you're seeing the work of your past self from the audience of your present self. and all you can do is wave goodbye to that last floor and look up to the next one. sometimes that takes some searching. for me, it often takes simple patience and a chosen mindset that i need to be paying close attention to the things the world is trying to tell me, because those are the things that will get me off this stupid elevator.

and while you're waiting for that, if you still want to be generating words, focus on mechanics, craft techniques, really nitty gritty tedious stuff that's hard to focus on when you're in a high inspiration state. do research. read as much as you possibly can and set down anything that doesn't keep your attention. try creative stuff that isn't writing, like poetry or drawing. if you do all that stuff with the knowledge that you're about to set off into something new, every single crumb of it will inform your future work. it's like getting the nursery ready for a baby. i know i say "there's no writing wasted" a lot but it goes beyond that--there's nothing wasted. every single thing you encounter has the opportunity to offer inspiration that might help you get to that next floor.

so if you're looking for something to try, my advice is just to listen. don't form thoughts or opinions of your work while you're in the elevator. play and discover and experiment. focus on process, not product. really sit in the physical act of writing. sit in your sentences. pay close attention to everything that isn't the floor you were just on.

and if you're not looking for something to try, know that i can definitely relate to the struggle, and i hope your elevator ride is swift.

[jonesaf]

OU MY GOD… OH MY GOD…. AN AMEIRE SHIPPER!?!?!?!?!?!? feel like I just struck gold, I DIDN’T THINK THERE WAS ANOTHER ONE OF US OUT THERE…..

HEY HI HELLO THERE so sorry I didn't see this til today but YES absolutely been rotating them around in my mind for the last little while! I found out Ire was finally canon and 1. I am Delighted I actually love his design he's so cute, and 2. immediately went on the hunt for content and realized there's like. Nothing??? For ameire??? (Or canon Ire in general it seems???) Which surprised me tbh like Alfred is shipped with almost everybody and there's such a big Irish diaspora in the US, plus I just feel like they'd get on well personality wise? But I guess a lot of people lean into the father/son dynamic for Alfred and Arthur so Ire is almost always depicted as an aunt/uncle, which I personally don't vibe with as much but hey, to each their own.

Have a small handful of assorted (human au) headcanons to water your crops:

Ire (Aidan Kelly is the name I have for him) likes to write and has absolutely written poetry about Alfred. Can't decide if he actually shares it with Al or not but I reckon he's building up quite the collection

Does share at least some of his work with Al, and I like to imagine Alfred coming up with tunes on the guitar to match Aidan's poems sometimes - or vice versa, Aidan coming up with words to Alfred's music - just for fun

I get very touchy-feely vibes for them honestly? Not like, excessive PDA necessarily, but like. Standing/sitting close, little touches on the arms or shoulders, if they're at home one of them is probably draped over the other in some manner, forehead/nose/cheek kisses - just generally in each other's space

Took them a while to figure out how to sleep comfortably in the same bed - Aidan's all long lanky limbs taking up the whole bed and Alfred is no better TBH. They've both ended up on the floor at least once, not to mention all the accidental kicking/smacking each other.

Spooning is one of their solutions to this. As for who's the big/little spoon...I think they switch it up a fair bit BUT I also feel like Aidan would like being the little spoon a bit more tbh??

Classic "one runs cold and the other runs hot" pair with Aidan being the cold one (his hands in particular) while Al is always warm. Good for snuggles.

(Aidan will absolutely put his cold ass hands/feet on Alfred when he's not expecting it tho)

Aidan is a certified Sweater Thief. "Hey Aidan have you seen that red hoodie with the-" he's wearing it.

Both are big animal lovers - can't imagine them without at least 1 pet tbh. A cat I think, either Alfred's (or Aidan's) that he's had for years or a shelter cat they adopted together. Maybe a big dog later down the line too. (Irish setter/golden retriever mix perhaps? 👀)

So Much Banter - I like the hc that Ire likes people who can keep up with him and his wit and I think Alfred totally can, lots of banter and long discussions/debates and light hearted bickering with these two

Alfred struggles with reading books for fun bc he's very ADHD, but he loooves when Aidan (massive bookworm that he is) reads to him - it's a common pre-bedtime ritual for them

gotta stop here bc I have to go to bed rip BUT pls don't be afraid to send more asks if you wanna chat/share your hcs/ask me for more!! :D

[peachcitt]

I would like to participate in peachcitt appreciation day :)

one thing I think is so special about your writing is that you seem to say as much between the lines as you do with the actual words. does that even make sense? Like, you write such beautiful things, but it’s not just beautiful because of what it says—it’s beautiful because of what it makes me feel and think about, which you didn’t necessarily say outright but you said what you said in such a perfect way that it demands for the reader to ponder it a little deeper and explore those ideas. so much of your writing feels like an irresistible Invitation to just like sit with the story and think about it and feel things. Sometimes when I read one of ur fics I gotta just stop in the middle and stare out the window and have a little emotional journey moment before I can go on lol. I feel like you have such a good knack for putting the exact right amount of weight on an idea or description so that you feel the significance but it’s not overbearing. Like really beautiful and emotional poetry but written with a lighter hand so it doesn’t come off as overwrought. and apart from your wonderful use of language I also think you are just such a good storyteller! great at keeping the plot moving to keep interest but also at slowing down when space is needed. you write the characters in such a real and compelling way and ugh when you put it all together it’s just magical 🥰 and so sticky!! like i just think about your fics sometimes. double dare and hey you and those benevolent stars and the sun and all its poetry and that ladynoir one whose name I forgot but it was written all snippet-y with an outside POV like you’re watching a play or something and and and etc etc. They all stick in my brain so much!! even if it’s not Deep and it’s really just adrien wearing lipstick and making out with marinette it just deserves to be thought about for a long time. lol. and man this is only like 1% of peachcitt fics too like maybe before i die I’ll finally read ur entire body of work bc wow I am impressed by how much you manage to put out and how quickly you can write while also maintaining such a high quality level wtf it honestly makes me a little bit scared of/intimidated by you and I hope that sounds complimentary bc that’s how I intend it dhsjdk

Also you have such a cute art style! I really like seeing your art whenever you post it 💜

aaaaaa thank you so much!! some of my favorite type of writing is the simpler styles that still have so much inside of them; im not the type of writer who can really go on and describe feelings in detail because emotion is something that i find on some level indescribable. so i try to just. show it. in the simplest of ways, but sometimes i become afraid that im not clear enough - and sometimes i like being unclear because that opens up work to be interpreted in the way the reader wants it to. also thanks for complimenting my plots as well !! sndjdjskk in terms of things im good at, i don’t count plots to be one of them, but it’s good to see that they’re still effective in the ways i want them to be.

and !! thanks!! i will say that writing quickly is something that comes with practice. once you have a clear voice and style, all that’s left is finding the time and motivation! when i try new styles, i often see that i take a longer time since im doing something that’s not as natural to me, but i find those times extremely valuable. i also used to write and post so so often, but i found that wasn’t healthy for me so ive been trying to slow down dnfndj i admire people who really take the time to sit with a work, and now that im doing so with one of my current big wips, im really enjoying the experience!!

thank you so much for reading and for always being so nice to me :”)

[writer-k-pop]

Study Dates - Performance

Description: It’s finals week and you join them on a study date. Warnings: Swearing Genre: Fluff

Seventeen Masterlist | Masterlists

Jun

You sigh and run your hands through your hair in frustration. These ethics review notes are taking your mind on a rollercoaster through confusion, clarity, and, after a ninety-degree downwards turn, back into confusion.

“Why can’t I remember what this principle was about?” You groan frustrated at yourself but you don’t give into peeking at previous lecture notes because you’re determined to do this on your own.

Jun notices your frustration and looks up from the book he’s reading for his book report/final that’s due in three days. He procrastinates. A lot. 

“Whatcha workin’ on?” He asks and leans over the table to look at your notes and study materials.

“Just my ethics review.” You answer him, tapping your pen against your cheek.

“Ethics?” Jun repeats the subject and peers at the concept that you’re stuck on. “Huh.” 

“Yeah. So much fun.” You let the sarcasm drip from your lips and return to wracking through your brain for the one principle you’re being asked about in the current slide.

“Huh.” Jun repeats his sound and you look up to find him still leaning over the table.

“What are you doing, Jun?” You ask him with a questioning look.

“Hold on.” Jun says, straining as his body tires out from the odd position he’s in. “Andddddddddd, done. Wow, that’s a complicated question.”

You glance down at your materials and then back up at Jun, “You were reading the question this entire time?”

“Uh, yeah.” Jun scrunches his face up into a ‘duh’ expression, “I was curious. And, for your information, reading upside down is extremely difficult.”

“Did you come up with an answer?” You ask, smiling at his silliness. However, Jun just shakes his head while letting out a dramatic sigh.

Hoshi/Soonyoung

“Okay, okay. I got this. I got this.” Hoshi hypes himself up as you shuffle the flashcards and prepare to quiz him. 

“Match the person off of their description.” You tell him and his face falls.

“Ugh, that’s so much harder!” He complains.

You shrug, not really caring, before reading off the first description. “This person was the last queen of France. She was only 14 when she was married. She is famous for saying ‘let them eat cake.’” 

“Marie Antoinette!” Hoshi exclaims excitedly.

“Correct!” You start a ‘correct answer’ pile before moving onto the next person, “This person ruled in Russia and was 26 when he took the throne. Their reign saw events like Bloody Sunday of 1905 and World War I.”

“Uh, uh...” Hoshi stutters, searching his brain for the answer. “OH! Nicholas the second!”

“Nice!” You smile with pride as he aces another question. “Okay, next one. This person was a French military and political leader. He fought in the French Revolution and lost the battle at Waterloo in 1815.”

Hoshi’s face stills as he muddles over the information you’ve given him. His eyes widen and narrow repeatedly as he thinks about who the person could be. You wait patiently and hope he guesses the answer correctly and goes 3 for 3.

After a few seconds, Hoshi looks up at you with a shy smile and pokes his cheeks.

“You don’t know?” You ask him and he widens his shy smile. Laughing and shaking your head, you tell him the answer, “Napoleon Bonaparte.”

Hoshi snaps his fingers in shame, “I should’ve know. Ugh, he was even one of the ones I considered! Ugh, how could I have missed that?”

You shrug and place the card in the incorrect pile. “I don’t know, but you gotta study up.”

The8/Minghao

You’ve been at the library for hours and you’re still not done studying. The to-do list that sits next to you stares at you, sitting there and reminding you that you still have a boat load of studying to do to be prepared for finals. A groan escapes from your lips as your head lowers to rest against the stiff open spine of your textbook.

“You good?” Minghao asks, peering up from his book to eye you suspiciously.

You hold up a thumbs up and give him a short groan before dramatically lifting your head and taking in a deep breath. “I don’t think I can study anymore for the day.” You declare.

“Oh, come on. Just a little more?” Minghao coaxes you.

“Minghao.” You deadpan at him, “My brain feels like mush and I’m pretty sure I’m writing in old latin.”

“30 more minutes and then we can leave.” He bargains with you.

“You’re not even studying any more.” You state and nod towards his poetry book still in his hands. “I just wanna go ho-”

“Ah, 30 more minutes and we can go.” Minghao interrupts you.

You pout, “But-”

“No, but’s. 30 minutes.” He cuts you off and buries his head back into his book without another word.

Sighing, you pick up your pen again and refocus on the text in front of you.

A few minutes later, you notice Minghao rummaging through his bag. Looking up, you see him pull out a small polaroid camera and begin to take pictures of himself.

“Wha-?” You aren’t able to finish the word because of how confused and shocked you are.

“I’m done studying.” Minghao states a-matter-of-factly, “And this library backdrop is aesthetic.” 

Dino/Chan

“They only had orange juice downstairs.” Dino says, returning to the table with a large-ish bottle of orange juice and two clear cups. 

“Well, sugar is sugar, no matter what form it comes in.” You shrug, a little tired from all the studying you’ve been doing.

Dino sits down in his chair before opening the bottle and pouring some juice out for the both of you. “Your sugar fix.” He says and slides a cup closer to you.

You nod, acknowledging the drink but your eyes are focused on the page in front of you. Dino takes a slow sip and just watches you for a couple seconds. He takes in the way your hand grips your hair in concentration and the way your lips form the silent words of your textbook.

“Hey, do you think aliens exist?” You randomly ask Dino and the question takes him by slight surprise.

“Uh...” He pauses to think of how to phrase his next thought, “Why?”

You shrug, “My mind wandered and ended up at aliens. Do you think they exist? Cause like they could, right?” You launch yourself into a mini distraction while Dino listens amused. “The Egyptian Pyramids could’ve been made by aliens but at the same time we have documented record of people making them. And, and like folklore. What if folklore were real aliens on this planet that ancient people deemed gods and what not.” You take a breath and your eyes shine with excited curiosity, “And if they’re real, what language would they speak? Would they be friendly? They’d have to be like super technologically advanced to travel through space like that. I wonder what they look like. Do you wonder what they look like?” You turn your excited gaze to Dino as he brings his drink up to his lips.

He pauses for a second then squints his eyes and gives a light chuckle while nodding his head in agreement, “It’d be interesting if they actually existed.” He sets down his cup as you pick up yours. “Curious though, what caused that tangent?”

You point down at your next and though he can’t really see it, your finger is underneath a word. “I read the phrase ‘technologically advanced’ and poof.” 

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves]

Scenario to get creative with: Skyquake taking Dreadwing to brothel to "get loose" a bit. ;)

So I found this buried in my asks, and I’m shook because this is actually a VERY fun idea, so let’s fucking go, let’s get carried away with this fuckin idea.

“Ah ah ah, optics closed, brother.”

Dreadwing was usually the one in charge of their creation day celebrations,  but this year, Skyquake wanted to take the reigns. Dreadwing, being a bit of a pushover for his little brother, allowed him to take this one. He knew Cybertron better than he did, so he was expecting something new, something exciting, especially given his tone. Dreadwing allowed his little brother to guide him, optics offline and walking to Primus knows where. Then he finally stopped.

“Okay, open!”

Dreadwing looked around. A bit of an odd building. It didn’t have anything on the outside, apart from a glowing neon sign, depicting a fem blowing a kiss. Dreadwing raised a brow.

“Okay, you got me. What is this?”

“The one thing that makes this place a million times better than Caminus.”

Skyquake paused, clearly wanting his brother to take a moment to think. It then clicked.

“Brother! Are you telling me we’re at a BROTHEL? That’s not even legal-”

“On CAMINUS. Here in Cyberton, they’re quite popular, and this one is the best of the best.”

“Primus sake, how many of these have you seen?”

“I’m not flinging myself at any pretty fem I see, brother. I just like supporting local businesses. Besides, you’ve been so tense with work lately, you deserve just one night to relax. Come on, you trust your brother, do you not?”

Dreadwing hesitated. Skyquake had promised he was going to pay for the evening, and his intentions seemed honest. It felt rude to say no, as uncomfortable as he was. He sighed.

“Fine. Just, make this easy for me, and...be in a different room when you do your thing.”

“Because you need to see my aft when I’m giving it to a fem.”

“Brother.”

“Sorry, sorry, just trying to ease the mood. Come on, follow me.”

Skyquake pushed past the front door, and were met with mechs and fems alike, greeting them loudly. Dreadwing let his brother walk up to the counter as he looked around. There was quite a pretty bunch of mechs and fems around. Freshly waxed and painted, some in the laps of paying customers, some bringing out drinks, and quite a few giving him the optic.

“So, in short, we’re here to celebrate!”

Dreadwing just tuned in to what Skyquake was saying. He was talking to an older fem, who was quite fetching herself. Claws that looked like daggers, and optics that glistened in greed, she looked like she’d have her fair share of prey. She gave him a look over, and chuckled.

“Mmm. Handsome thing, that one is. First time in here, darling?”

“Yes, ma’am. We’re from Caminus, so this is...different.”

“Ah yes, these kinds of places are a big no no there, if I recall. Anyhow, don’t you worry, we’ll take good care of you both. A friend of Skyquake’s is a friend of ours, afterall.”

Skyquake shrugged as his brother gave him the side optic. While there was nothing wrong about visiting this place, Dreadwing was still kink shaming. Skyquake chuckled.

“Don’t look so nervous. They’re all quite kind, I assure you. Now, I’m paying for everything afterwards, I don’t want him to see just how much this is. He’s nosey like that.”

Dreadwing turned his helm away, a bit flustered to be caught in the act of peeking.

“I’m not nosey. I’m...observant.”

“Uh huh. Anyway, Is Maxima here tonight?”

“Yep, you’re lucky, she JUST got in. I’ll see if she’s willing to see you.”

“Maxima?”

Dreadwing found it odd that he was so specific on this particular fem. Skyquake scoffed.

“She’s just a fem. Don’t read too much into it.”

“You mentioned her by name, a bit late for that.”

The fem behind the counter chuckled, seeming to type something on her data pad, before leaning over at Dreadwing.

“Okay handsome, what do YOU like? You lookin’ for a wine and dine type, or a wham bam thank you ma’am?”

Dreadwing stammered. What a question to be asked. Skyquake snorted.

“We can’t afford taking ANYONE out tonight, so tell Cheesecake we gotta pass on that front. Just let him meet a few, see who he clicks with.”

“Can do. And Maxima just told me she’s got time to see you, so head to room one fifteen, you know where that is. Big blue, you’re with me.”

“Please don’t leave me alone. Not that you’re uh, not good company ma’am.”

Skyquake rolled his optics, patting his brother on his shoulder.

“If I didn’t trust them, we wouldn’t be here.”

Dreadwing sighed, before nodding. Skyquake left him to Primus knows where, and Dreadwing followed the fem ahead of him. She opened the door to a reasonable sized room, and the large couches signified it was meant as a sort of waiting room.

“Now, take a seat, we’ll have a few girls and boys pop in, see who you like. Once you find someone, you just come and give me a holler outside. Don’t be nervous, now.”

Dreadwing sat down, and let her leave. He was alone in this room now, and he felt tense. He had the occasional bout of intercourse, but that was SO long ago. Relationships of any sort just felt...odd to him now, as if the only other bot he could interact with, was his own brother. It was a bit sad, if he thought about it for too long. Enough so, that meeting all these mechs and fems did nothing for him. Some of the fems were pretty and sweet, some of the mechs were charming and handsome, but none of them really caught his optics. He was about ready to call it quits, when one remained.

“Hello. I’m Orion Pax.”

He was a small, cute little thing. Amongst the shiny paint jobs, fresh wax, and fish nets, he stuck out like a sore servo. Dreadwing couldn’t help but look at him up and down, perplexed.

“I’m sorry, you...work here?”

“As a part time job, yes. It’s nice to have a little extra credits to spend on the weekends. May I sit next to you?”

All the other’s did the same thing, but for some reason, this made him...nervous. He nodded however, scooting a bit to allow him to sit.

“Everyone is talking about how difficult you are to please. I take it you aren’t quite like your brother.”

“Primus I should hope not.”

That made little Orion chuckle. He pulled out a data pad from his sub space.

“You seem a bit tense. Poetry always relaxes me, personally. Would It help to read you something I wrote?”

“Please, I do love my fair share of poetry.”

The little bot cleared his vocal processor.

“Migrating answers

Beast of love discovers all

Bargain intertwined.”

“That’s...rather lovely. Did you write that?”

“Yes actually. I dabble in poetry in my free time, and more often than not, my sweetspark double checks my work.”

“Does...your sweetspark know you do this?”

“Of course. And he’s fine with it. He isn’t...around a lot, and sometimes you just need a big mech to-”

His face suddenly flared, and he hid it past his data pad.

“I..shouldn’t have said that, ignore it.”

Dreadwing chuckled, pushing the data pad down. What pretty optics, this little bot has.

“There’s...nothing really wrong with that, honestly. You like big mechs, and I like...well, you quite frankly.”

There was an odd moment of silence between them, before Dreadwing pressed his lips against his. There was no resistance, no uncomfortable tension. Dreadwing wanted him, and he clearly felt the exact same. Orion pulled away, cheeks still aflame. Even if this was just some kind of act to draw in more customers, Dreadwing didn’t care. It FELT honest, and the shy little poet angle was adorable. He was cute, innocent, and Dreadwing wanted to frag him till his processor malfunctioned. Orion clearly felt the same way, given how he lingered for a moment, before tapping his servo.

“I...have to go. Don’t forget my name.”

Dreadwing wanted to just take him here and now, but he was not the kind of mech to break etiquette, especially in new places. He waited for little Orion to walk out of the room, waited a moment, and the fem from before popped her helm in.

“So, you got your pick of the litter. Anyone-”

“Orion Pax. The small fellow.”

Realizing he sounded a bit too eager, he cleared his vocal processor. How desperate was he? Not even letting her finish her sentence. She chuckled, before motioning him to follow her once again.

“Let’s get you a room big guy. Feel like if I keep you two apart any longer, you’ll start breaking doors down.”

Dreadwing slipped past the other mechs and fems, and was brought to another room. It felt so much more intimate in here than the previous room. A nice, soft looking berth, soft music being played in the background, and the best part? A little Orion Pax. Standing there, in a rather thin looking night gown. The fem chuckled, nudging his side.

“Don’t let his size fool you. He’s sturdy.”

She slipped out, and Orion groaned in humiliation.

“I’m sorry about that, she uh, has no idea what she’s talking about.”

“Are you saying you’re NOT sturdy?”

Dreadwing had no idea where that question came from. He delivered it so eagerly, it made BOTH of their faces feel flushed. Orion rubbed the back of his helm, finally putting his gaze back upon him.

“I...I mean, I wouldn’t say THAT…”

Dreadwing had no idea he’d be so easily wooed by someone so small. Orion gestured to the berth.

“Do you uh, want a massage? We usually do that to kinda ease customers into it.”

“I don’t need easing in, to be frank.”

Dreadwing had no idea what came over him. He was on Orion like some hound dog, lifting him off the floor, and practically flinging him onto berth. He pressed his lips against his, and Orion did nothing to fight it. His little servos ran across his chest, dipped in between those nooks and crannies of his armor. Dreadwing savored those touches. Savored the way he groaned into his lips, savored the way he smelled even. Orion pulled away, servos lightly caressing his face. 

“You...should open your spike panel. A big mech like you needs to be taken care of.”

It might have been just sweet talk, but Primus this little one had such a way with words. Dreadwing pushed off of him, popping open his spike panel. He was almost embarrassed, how pressurized his spike was already. There was greed in his optics, and he sat up, using his little servos to grab and stroke his girth.

“Something...tells me you aren’t as innocent as I thought previously.”

Orion chuckled, rubbing his cheek against the thick, eager spike.

“I...just like big mechs. And you’re as big as they come. You deserve to feel SO good.”

Orion pushed the tip past his lips, and Dreadwing felt himself tense up. Such a little mouth, with such a wanting, skilled glossa. His glossa was small, just like the rest of him, but with the way it circled around him, the way he let the drool dribble down his base. Dreadwing couldn’t help but have his helm toss back as the little mech only took him further. This wasn’t the first time he took a spike that size, he doubted it’d be the last. After a good, solid moment of lubing up his spike, Orion pulled away. Orion laid on his back, opening both his legs, and his valve panel. He made quite the show; playing and kneading at his already soaked folds. Dreadwing couldn’t help but stroke himself, and that seemed to only egg on the little bot.

“If I can be lewd for a moment...I want you to frag me as hard as you can. I want to feel that big, throbbing spike inside of me. And YOU want my little valve.”

He was right. Dreadwing leaned forward, putting his servo over his little chest, as if he’d try to run away from him.

“When you say as hard as you can, I do hope you understand I do not take that lightly.”

“Oh trust me, I know what I’m asking for. Come on big mech. Give it to me. Use me. Fuck me.”

Such pretty words, they could be poetry in itself. Dreadwing no longer hesitated. He pushed himself past the lips, and instead of taking it slowly, Dreadwing just stuffed himself right inside, fully and totally. Orion threw his helm back, little servos clinging to his back desperately.

“Are you hurt? Should I-”

“Don’t you pull out. Don’t you dare.”

That was all the permission Dreadwing needed. He was done being nice. He started thrusting into him, his hips clanging against his own. Dreadwing wasn’t merciful; having enough force in his thrust to move the berth itself. Orion’s mouth was a tool for evil, first being used to charm him into this berth, now using it to arouse him further. The way he cried out for him, the way he cried for more, the way he screamed, as if for mercy. Dreadwing kept his face shoved into that sweet, soft neck of his, and the little one wasn’t even spared his bites. Orion’s breath was hot, husky in his audial.

“You can bite me harder, big boy. Take a bite out of me, like I know you want.”

A good, harsh bite not only made his neck bleed, but made Orion squeal in ecstasy. Dreadwing knew he wasn’t going to last very long, not with a tight valve like this, not with a mech so hungry for his touch. When Orion grabbed fist fulls of his aft (with a rather surprising grip), he was forced into an overload. He panicked, realizing he was still inside, before he pulled out. He ended up showering the little mech in his pink, hot load. The sight of the little mech bathed in the afterglow, was enough to make Dreadwing want him yet again. Orion wiped his face with his servo, and licked it off, sighing in content.

“You...REALLY needed that, didn’t you?”

“More...than I thought, honestly. I apologize, I don’t know what’s the polite thing to do from here. Am I supposed to...give you a tip, or-”

“You gave me a LOT more than a tip, big mech.”

Orion chuckled, one hand leaning down to help ease fluids out of his gaping valve. This little mech was so quick witted, so eager to pull him further into affection. Dreadwing was about to go for a second round, when there was a knock at their door.

“Time’s up you two. Everything alright?”

“Just fine! He was just saying he wants to buy more time.”

Dreadwing was about to speak against that, as he said no such thing, until Orion held onto his helm, taking a nip out of his chin. Dreadwing lightly gulped.

“I...suppose I could use more time. It IS my creation day, after all.”

“Good to hear! Go on you two, I’ll check in later!”

As the voice left, Orion chuckled.

“Now that we have just a little more time...how do you feel about letting me at YOUR valve?”

-------------------------------------------

Dreadwing lost track of time as he walked out of that room. His brother had been waiting there for what seemed like a while, given the relief on his face.

“Primus sake, there you are! You were in there for SO long, thought someone was killing you or something.”

“I...apologize. I lost track of time.”

Skyquake chuckled, shaking his helm.

“Alright, let’s see the damage here…”

Skyquake handled the final bill for them both, and Dreadwing was too lost in his thoughts to peek over his shoulder. He did some rather...embarrassing things in there. Sure he liked it all, but he didn’t like figuring out all these secret kinks he seemed to have. No matter.

What were the odds he was going to see him again, anyway?

[grapesodatozier]

Dreamboat

summary: Richie’s his pining mess self, and it only gets worse when he has sex dreams about Eddie every night for a week. Eddie asks him why he’s been avoiding him all week, love confessions and smut ensues~

tags/warnings: pining-typical angst and guilt in the beginning, but it’s all resolved by the end! also, this is top!eddie/bottom!richie bc i haven’t written that dynamic in forever, gotta balance the scales lol

this didn’t need to be 7k words, but it is lmao enjoy

(also, if you wanna be taken off or added to my taglist, lmk! i have one for reddie fics and one for all of my fics, so please specify which one you’d like to be added to. thanks!)

read on ao3 or below!

notsfw below the cut!

Richie could not believe this was happening a-fucking-gain. This was the fourth time this week that he’d woken up hard after a dream about Eddie. He ran his hands over his face and groaned, his skin burning from his face down his chest. Guilt sank low in his stomach as he shut off his alarm and stared up at the ceiling of his dorm room. 

Guilt, and a sizable helping of heartbreak.

It had felt so real. He could still feel dream-Eddie’s fingertips ghosting over his skin. He could feel his tongue teasing over Richie’s own, so soft and warm and the perfect balance of rough and smooth. He could feel Eddie grinding against him. He could picture so vividly Eddie dropping to his knees, a sweet smirk on his face as he—

No. Fuck, fuck, no. Richie breathed in sharply through his nose and scrunched his eyes shut, willing his aching boner to go down. The emotional come down helped, realizing he would never get to touch Eddie like that, would never get to know what he felt like, how he liked to be touched. He tried to ignore it, he really did, he’d been trying to get over it for years. But how was he supposed to get over someone like Eddie? Richie had never felt his heart flip like it did around Eddie. He’d realized one day in the seventh grade that Eddie’s laugh made him feel different than anyone else’s, warmer. He wanted to know that Eddie was okay all the time, and he selfishly wanted to be the one to make him happy. His heart sang every time Eddie chose to sit next to him. The first time Eddie rested his head on his shoulder Richie thought he was gonna vomit. But, like, in a good way. 

So yeah, being in love with Eddie was par for the course. It was a part of Richie as much as his freckles and knobby elbows. But these dreams… He’d had a few before, scattered here and there across the years, but he’d managed to black them out. One or two flukes was okay, right? He’d had a sex dream or two about Bill before. Hell, he’d had sex dreams about a cashier he saw once at a Burger King. It was fine. The mind was a weird thing.

But four in a week? That was different. It made him feel like a fucking creep; he made his own skin crawl. And they were so vivid. How could he look at Eddie now? How could he let Eddie touch him, not knowing what Richie had dreamt of those hands doing? 

He bit his lip as he thought about it, the most confusing mix of arousal and shame blooming in his chest. He only came back to his senses when he tasted copper on his tongue. He did his best to shove the thoughts aside as he swung his legs over the side of his bed, halfheartedly tossing his comforter back toward the top of his bed before deciding to smooth it down more neatly. He took another deep breath and ran his hand through his hair, trying to collect himself enough to pick out an outfit for the day. He just needed to locate a shirt, boxers, and pants. And socks. God, why did that feel difficult?

Showering didn’t help clear his mind. Cocoa puffs didn’t help. Not even his acting class could help; his teacher just had them lying on yoga mats that smelled like disinfectant and stale rubber doing breathing exercises for the first half of class, which did absolutely nothing to calm him down or take his mind off of the fact that it was Friday, which meant movie night in Bill and Mike’s room. Nights when Richie and Eddie “fought” over who got to sit on the giant Yogibo before settling into it together, nice and dizzyingly close. 

He managed to avoid sitting next to Eddie at lunch just by luck of the draw. But Eddie was still there laughing harder than anyone else at Richie’s jokes and trying to toss things into Richie’s cup without him noticing, and it still made Richie glow, he still pretended to not notice who was throwing things at him, playing along with Eddie’s innocent shrugs and smiles until he “finally” caught him, which in turn made Eddie burst into giggles that were so precious they made Richie want to cry. And then after lunch Eddie came up to Richie and touched him on the arm, making him jump like he’d touched a hot stove. 

“Jesus, you good?” Eddie asked with a confused smile.

“Yeah, must be the static electricity,” Richie said, fumbling over his words, “or the fluorescents.” 

Eddie gave him a look, but he was still smiling. “Okay, that was bad, even for you.” Richie gave a small laugh. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. “Do you wanna go to the Auburn to study? This stupid fucking poetry class is melting my brain, so I think you owe me a scone as compensation for making me sign up for it.”

Richie’s heart ached. There was nothing he wanted more than to fuck around with Eddie at one of the too-small tables at their favorite little coffee shop downtown. But then he was looking at Eddie’s lips and the guilt was rising in him again like bile. Or maybe it was actual bile. Richie clicked his tongue. “Sorry, you know I’d love to treat my little muffin to a scone, but I’ve got a paper to write and you know they turn the wifi off Friday to Sunday.” 

The disappointment on Eddie’s face made Richie’s chest ache. “Okay, well, I’ll see you tonight then.” 

“Wear those panties I like,” he winked, his mouth getting ahead of him as usual. God, Richie wanted to kick himself. And maybe puke. But Eddie left him with a smile and a playful shove, so Richie figured he wasn’t in too much trouble. 

Richie, Stan, and Patty had been tasked with getting the pizza that night, so the three of them showed up to Bill and Mike’s after everyone else. Richie’s heart did flips when he saw Eddie lying sprawled across the giant bean bag, just like he always did when he beat Richie to it. He blushed when Eddie met his eyes and beamed, leaping up and bounding over to him. He nearly choked on his tongue when Eddie draped himself over his arm, having to get up on his tiptoes to rest his chin on Richie’s shoulder. Richie instinctively crouched down a bit to accommodate him. 

“Did you get barbecue chicken?” Eddie asked, batting his eyes.

“I’m offended you would even have to ask,” Richie grinned as he opened the box. The others were scrambling around the boxes, trying to get slices of their choice, but Richie’s long arms gave him an advantage.

“Will you get me a slice?” Eddie asked.

“And let you get to the Yogibo first? I may be pretty but I’m not stupid.” Richie grinned as he lifted his plate far above Eddie’s head and spun around, finally able to breathe once he no longer had to worry about the electric feeling of Eddie leaning against him.

“You’re gonna regret that, Tozier,” Eddie huffed, but he could never hide his smile. 

“Ooh, last names,” Richie grinned as he plopped himself down on the beanbag, fully spread eagle. “I’m scared now.”

Eddie stuck his tongue out at him before ducking under Bill’s arm to get at the pizza he was going for. Richie really tried not to linger on how cute that was. 

However, it was becoming quickly apparent that Richie was not going to be able to avoid those thoughts, as well as his less savory ones. As soon as Eddie got his pizza, he was standing over Richie with one hand on his hip. Richie made sure to look at his face and not his thighs, which his movie night sleep shorts left on full display. Richie didn’t dare let himself look down, because right then he was wondering if he’d be able to see up Eddie’s shorts from this angle. God, he bet he could. “I was sitting there,” Eddie groused. 

Normally Richie would’ve replied with something crude, would’ve grabbed his crotch with an obnoxious wink and said, “I’ve got a seat all warmed up for you right here, baby.” But now his stomach twisted at that, and when Richie managed to stop himself from saying something he struggled to come up with something else. So all he could manage was a halfheartedly sarcastic, “Here?” 

He pointed to what he thought was the beanbag, but Eddie apparently had something else in mind. “Yeah,” he smiled before dropping himself into Richie’s lap with a grace and bounce that left Richie breathless. “Right here.” 

Eddie looked so smug, and he was on Richie’s lap, and Richie could feel the situation getting real bad for him real fast. So, setting the slices of pizza aside so as to not earn himself any disappointed looks or lectures from Bill and Mike about respecting and maintaining the cleanliness of their space, he grabbed Eddie by the waist, doing his best to ignore his own rushing blood and the amused look on Eddie’s face. “Alright, short stack, you ever try asking a guy to move over?” With Eddie lifted, Richie scooted over to one side of the bean bag, then plopped Eddie on the other. Richie couldn’t decipher the look Eddie was giving him, but it somehow was making him even hotter under the collar than Eddie sitting in his lap had. 

Richie thought he was safe when Eddie huffed and grabbed his pizza, but he barely had three seconds to breathe before Eddie was wriggling his way across the bean bag to press himself against Richie. “You’re taking up the whole thing,” he grumbled as he tucked himself against Richie. Richie could not have been closer to the edge of the bean bag, but he didn’t have the breath in his lungs to say that. Every time he breathed he could smell Eddie’s shampoo, clean and fresh and somewhat minty. Richie shovelled his pizza into his mouth so he wouldn’t have to respond. And to give himself something to do with his arms other than wrapping them around Eddie and pulling him closer. 

Richie could not for the life of him focus on the movie. He felt like he was dropping on a rollercoaster, but it had been twenty minutes and the feeling hadn’t stopped. Eddie kept shifting, but never away from him, and Richie was going to lose his mind. Then, Eddie leaned up to whisper something to Richie, and he couldn’t even process what he was saying, just that the feeling of Eddie’s breath warm and soft on his neck was going to make him pop a boner. Eddie’s face was so close to his, and his hand was on Richie’s chest, and Richie couldn’t stop seeing his dreams playing on repeat. 

Eddie’s tongue in his mouth.

Eddie’s hands running down from his chest, to his stomach, lower…

Eddie on his knees, Eddie in Richie’s lap, Eddie on top of him, inside—

“Well!” Richie exclaimed, rolling off the Yogibo with the grace of a newborn calf, popping up to the fond annoyance of his friends, “I do say, nature calls, so pip pip and tally-ho, off I must go to the loo.”

“Seriously?” Eddie groaned.

“Hey, you’re the one who’s always telling me to stay hydrated!” Richie retorted. “You’ve only got yourself to blame for this waterfall.” Really? he thought to himself. Yeah, that’s gonna get him to like you. Nice one, dumbass.

“You know you really don’t have to announce that,” Bev snickered, throwing Mike and Ikes at him until he reached the door.

“Alright, alright, tough crowd. Try not to miss me too much.”

He could hear Stan yelling something about not getting lost on his way back as he closed the door, finding himself alone in the hallway of Bill and Mike’s dorm.

God, fuck, he was so fucked. He had to take himself on a walk up and down the hallway just to calm himself down. Eddie made him so hot, like he was burning up. And he’d thought his feelings were messy before he started having the dreams. Eddie whispering to him like that, touching him like that… He knew when he got back in the room that he couldn’t do it. He felt a guilt heavy in his stomach when he plopped down next to Bill, squeezing himself in obnoxiously, but he knew he couldn’t be next to Eddie just then, not without crawling out of his skin. 

He ignored the weird look Bill gave him, the weird looks everyone gave him. He ignored the way Eddie kept glancing over at him, looking so small sitting on the bean bag by himself. He ignored the aching in his chest when Eddie asked Ben and Bev to walk him home instead of Richie. He told himself this was better as he walked home alone, that yeah, he missed Eddie’s banter, he missed the sleepy way he would bump into Richie, but it was better this way, better to get some distance and let the dreams peter out. Maybe if he didn’t touch Eddie, maybe if he didn’t see him for a few days he’d get his lips out of his mind, maybe he could forget the way Eddie’s skin felt against his own, and then the dreams would stop. Things could go back to normal if he could just stay away for a bit.

But that night only brought another dream, one filled with moans and giggles and Eddie’s hands and tongue all over him, inside of him. Another dream that had his blood rushing to his cock. 

He woke up hard and grinding against his mattress. His mind still lingering in the dream, the sensations still fresh in his mind, warming his skin, Richie rolled over onto his back and desperately shoved his hands down his boxers. He stroked himself tight and fast and came into his fist in under a minute, his toes curling and his breath coming out in gasping moans. It took a minute for his mind to clear. Once it did, his blissful haze shattered pretty abruptly. “Fuck,” he muttered, reaching for the roll of toilet paper on his desk to wipe his hand off with. He tossed the wad at his trash can with way more force than necessary before angrily throwing his sheets and comforter off of himself. He needed a fucking shower. A cold one. 

He didn’t get why the fuck this kept happening. Like, fuck, the dreams were amazing, sure. But Eddie was never gonna touch him like that. He could dream and fantasize all he wanted, but that was all he was ever gonna get.

He dodged Saturday brunch, grabbing a cinnamon roll from the dining hall and eating it in his room alone. He ignored Bill’s text asking if he wanted to talk about the night before. He holed up in his room and threw himself into the essay he had to write, hoping that that would be enough to make him forget. But finding quotes didn’t exactly scratch the same itch, and his mind kept drifting to Eddie, always Eddie, whispering in his ear, touching his chest on the bean bag the night before. There was no song he could blast loud enough to get it out of his mind.

It was around three when Richie heard an insistent knocking at his door. He paused the music and groaned, figuring Bill had come by to talk to him. But when he opened the door, Eddie was standing there with his arms crossed. Richie’s heart stopped. “Hey,” he said, “wasn’t expecting you. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

But Eddie was already pushing past him into his room. Richie closed the door; the pout on Eddie’s face made him figure this was about to be a door closed kind of conversation. Which made him want to vomit, but here they were. Eddie took a breath, paused, then finally blurted out, “Did I do something wrong?”

Richie’s head was spinning. “What?”

“You’ve been weird all week.” Shitshitshitshit. “You didn’t wanna study together, you sat next to Bill last night, you haven’t called me Eds in days—” Eddie cut himself, his voice breaking and eyes falling to the floor. Richie’s heart was beating so hard he was pretty sure he’d be able to see bruises on his chest in a few hours. “So, what, are you mad at me? ‘Cause whatever I did, I’m sorry, but I don’t know what I did, I don’t know why you’re avoiding me like this.”

“Eddie,” Richie started, stepping toward him. He reached his hand out, but let it drop. He was so torn. Eddie looked so small, so sad and confused, all Richie wanted to do was scoop him up into his arms and make everything better. But how could he touch him? How could he make this better? How could he explain what was wrong without scaring Eddie off? “Fuck, Eddie, I don’t know what to tell you.”

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because Eddie’s eyes started filling with tears. “So, what? You just don’t like me anymore?”

“What? No, fuck no, Eddie, jesus, I love you!” Richie blurted. Every nerve in his body was screaming at him to run out the door, to get the fuck out of there, to not say anything more. But fuck it, he couldn’t see Eddie cry and do nothing. Grossing him out was better than hurting him, right? Eddie didn’t say anything, but he wiped a tear away and stood up a little taller, his eyes wide, urging Richie to go on. Richie took a tentative step closer before deciding against it and leaning against his bed. “Fuck, this is so awkward. Um. So, okay, so I’ve been acting weird.”

“Yeah?” Eddie prompted, turning toward him. He started to move closer, then apparently thought better of it. 

“And I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” Richie ran his hands over his face, pushing his glasses up then readjusting them. “Fuck,” he said with a humorless laugh. “So um. So you’ve kinda been livin’ rent free in my dreams this week.”

Eddie gave him a confused look. 

God he was gonna have to spell it out, wasn’t he? “Like…” Richie mimed jerking himself off. Eddie raised his eyebrows. “Like, every fucking night this week.”

“Oh.” Eddie’s cheeks were pink.

“Yeah. So, you know. Kinda makes it hard to be around you knowing I’m such a fucking creep.” Richie gave a sheepish smile. 

Eddie gave him a long suffering look.

“Sorry, that was supposed to come out a lot funnier than it sounded—”

“Richie,” Eddie sighed, walking over to him. Richie straightened up, his heart in his throat as Eddie stood right in front of him. “You’re not a creep for having some wet dreams.” He gave him a smile and smacked him playfully on the chest. “I can’t believe that’s the whole reason you’ve been a dick this week.”

“Yeah, but it’s different,” Richie said before he could stop himself, thoughts flooding out on their own. 

“Why? Because we’re friends? I mean, sure, maybe every night for a week is kind of a lot, but I can’t say I’m not flattered.” He smiled then, but it softened, and he took Richie’s hand in his, running his thumb comfortingly over Richie’s skin. “I’m definitely not creeped out.”

You have to tell him, Richie’s mind screamed at him. You have to fucking tell him. If you don’t tell him now you never will. “Not just because we’re friends,” he whispered, his voice shaking. He tried to slip his hand out of Eddie’s, but Eddie just held him tighter as he looked into Richie’s eyes, waiting for more of an explanation. “I’m kinda, like… in love with you.” He waved his free hand in a ta-da motion, hoping to god that he could joke his way into making this less painful for both of them. Eddie’s eyes widened, but he didn’t let go, he didn’t move or say anything, and fuck, what was Richie supposed to with that? Fill the fucking silence was his go-to, so he started rambling, but nothing that came out was funny. “So, it’s like, the dreams are shit I’ve thought of, y’know? And I feel really fucking gross, because like, I’d do it. And I didn’t want you to find that out and think that I was taking advantage of you or whatever by letting you cuddle me and shit, because, fuck, when you were whispering to me last night, and pressing against me, I want that, y’know? You were gonna give me a fucking heart attack, and that’s weird, that’s gross, and I didn’t want you to be mad, or to leave me—” He broke on that and had to bite his lip to keep himself from crying.

“Richie,” Eddie sighed, pulling him down into his arms. Richie collected himself as Eddie held him, slowly bringing his arms around Eddie, trying to process what was happening. 

“You’re not mad?” he asked as he pulled away. Eddie cupped his face, and Richie couldn’t help but lean into his hand.

“Why would I be mad? All you’ve done is love me back.”

Richie’s eyebrows lifted hopefully. “Back?”

“Yes, back,” Eddie grinned. “I love you, too. I’m in love with you, too.”

“Fuck, for real?”

Eddie giggled and leaned up on his toes, bringing his lips to Richie’s. Richie placed his hands lightly on Eddie’s waist, kissing him back softly, making sure this was all happening, that touching him like this was okay. Once he was sure he wasn’t being pranked, he wrapped his arms around Eddie and pulled him closer, kissing him deeply, hungrily. God, he’d needed this for so many years, but he never could’ve prepared himself for how amazing it would feel. Eddie’s lips were so soft, so intentional with every move, and Richie could feel him smiling as he pulled him closer into him. Eddie’s arms were wrapped around his neck, their chests were pressed together, still Richie needed more, needed him closer. He needed to satiate the years and years of pining. 

“God, Eddie, Eds, my love, I love you so much.” He felt breathless and giddy to finally say it.

“I love you, too, Rich,” Eddie beamed, kissing the corner of Richie’s mouth, then his cheek, then his jaw. Richie moaned as Eddie pressed a kiss to the pulse point where Richie’s jaw met his neck and ran his hand over Richie’s chest, just like he had the night before. “So these dreams… what happened in them?” Richie shuddered at how low Eddie’s voice had gotten. “What was I doing in them?”

“Shit, what weren’t you doing?” Richie laughed breathlessly. “Sucking me off on your knees, stroking me and kissing my neck, fingering me, fucking me…”

“Yeah?” Eddie asked, his eyes sparkling. Richie gasped as Eddie’s hand travelled lower, teasing over Richie’s belt. “You want me to fuck you?” 

“Fuck, yes.” Richie’s breath trembled over the words. He had to grab the bed behind him to steady himself when Eddie’s palm pressed against Richie’s cock, which was quickly growing hard under his touch. At the same time, Eddie nuzzled his face against Richie’s neck, kissing the sensitive skin there. RIchie couldn’t help but moan and roll his hips into Eddie’s hand. “Eds, fuck…” he groaned. Eddie kept kissing his neck, his lips wet and warm and soft, and he tightened his grip on Richie a bit, the outline of Richie’s hard cock clear through his jeans by this point. 

“Is this what you want, baby?” Eddie murmured against his skin. Before Richie could gather himself to respond, Eddie was swiftly dropping to his knees. His brown eyes were wide and full of faux innocence, glittering with mischief as he looked up at Richie. “Is this what you dreamt about?”

“Yes, fuck, oh my god,” Richie whined, his voice thin and already so desperate as Eddie rubbed his face against the tent in Richie’s jeans. “Please, please, will you suck me, baby?”

“Wow, you’re so polite when you’re turned on,” Eddie mused. Then, with a wink, “I’ll keep that in mind.” God, Richie was excited to find out what Eddie meant by that, but for now he was fully occupied with watching Eddie undo his belt, then the button on his jeans, then his zipper. Richie got with the program as Eddie tugged his jeans down and stripped his shirt off, tossing it aside as he stepped out of his jeans, leaving him in his boxer briefs. He giggled at the exasperated look on Eddie’s face. “Where the fuck did you find Hello Kitty boxers?”

“What, like it’s hard?” Richie said. “You can find anything on the internet, my love.”

Eddie shook his head, but he was smiling. “I really love you,” he sighed, leaning in and pressing kisses to Richie’s stomach. He took his time trailing his lips down. “God, you’re so hot,” Eddie murmured against his skin, nuzzling into the patch of dark hair just above his waistband. “Every time your fucking shirt rides up I get half hard, can’t believe I’m finally getting my mouth on you.” Richie cursed as Eddie ran his lips over the outline of Richie’s cock. 

“Fuck, Eds, please.” Richie had one hand still supporting himself on his bed, but the other was now in Eddie’s hair. “I need you so fucking bad.” Richie felt his breath being knocked out of his chest when Eddie looked up and met his gaze as he sucked on the head of his cock through the fabric. But this time it was a fun breathlessness, the best kind of breathlessness. Feeling himself leaking, his cock throbbing, Richie let out another, “Eddie baby, please,” genuinely whining.

Eddie gave him a satisfied grin as he finally pulled Richie’s boxers down and let his cock bob up against his stomach. “Fuck, you have such a nice cock,” Eddie marvelled. Richie gasped as Eddie wrapped his fingers around him, stroking him. “Did you touch yourself after your dreams? Did you make yourself come while thinking about me?” Richie couldn’t believe Eddie, his Eddie Kaspbrak was talking to him like this. It made his head spin.

“Yes, oh fuck,” Richie groaned as Eddie lapped at the head of his cock, his tongue all pink and warm and wet. He pressed it flat against the base of Richie’s shaft and licked him all the way to the tip, never breaking eye contact as he did. “God, it feels so much better when you do it.”

“I know, baby,” Eddie purred. Richie let out a strangled moan as Eddie tongued at the sensitive bundle of nerves under the head of Richie’s cock. “Gonna make you feel so good.”

Richie had barely gotten out another, “Please,” when Eddie wrapped his lips around him and bobbed his head forward. Taking him in his mouth. Sucking on the head, making his knees shake. “Eds, fuck, oh my god,” Richie moaned. His eyes fluttered shut as Eddie took him further down his throat, but he didn’t wanna miss this. He’d already messed up Eddie’s hair, and his cheeks were pink and hollowed as he ran his tongue along Richie’s shaft, as he moved his lips over him. Eddie looked him in the eyes as he slid off with a popping sound, clearly happy with himself as he swirled his tongue around the head of Richie’s cock. To Eddie’s credit, the triumphant smirk was well-earned; Richie was already a whimpering mess, his knees trembling. “Eds, want you, please.”

“What do you want, baby?” Eddie asked. His voice was soft as he covered Richie’s cock in kisses that were so sweet in the filthiest way. 

“Wanna touch you,” Richie breathed. “Please, I need to feel you.”

Eddie groaned and pressed one more heated, sloppy kiss to Richie’s hip before standing up and bringing their lips together. Richie leaned into it, happily pliant in Eddie’s hands. He was still chasing the feeling of Eddie’s lips against his own when Eddie pulled back to pull his shirt off over his head.

“Oh fuck,” Richie muttered, staring at Eddie’s chest. Richie’s entire body burned as he drank in Eddie’s skin, the toned muscles underneath. Was he really allowed to look at him like this? Was he really allowed to let his gaze linger as long as he wanted?

His hesitation must have shown on his face. Softly, Eddie said, “Touch me.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Richie joked, but his voice shook, and his movements were slow as he brought his hands to Eddie’s chest, sliding them down to his waist and pulling him in. He saw Eddie grin, then felt it against his lips. Richie melted into it. God, Eddie’s chest felt so nice pressed against his own. He was so warm, his heartbeat right against Richie’s. As much as Richie’s heart was racing, he felt so incredibly safe. And that safety and warmth flooded into heat as Eddie shifted Richie’s hands down, guiding them to his belt. “Fuck,” Richie shuddered, fumbling to undo Eddie’s belt. He couldn’t get his hands to stop shaking.

“I got it,” Eddie giggled, gently pushing Richie’s hands away. Richie watched in awe as Eddie rid himself of his jeans, leaving himself in tented Calvin Klein boxer briefs. 

The fumbling and giggling actually helped Richie relax—enough to laugh as he pressed his lips to Eddie’s neck and palmed him through the black fabric. “You are such a brand whore.”

“Fuck you,” Eddie laughed breathlessly, bucking into Richie’s touch.

“Oh, you better, Mr. Gucci,” Richie winked. Eddie shook his head and brought his lips to Richie’s. He slid one hand down and took a hold of Richie’s wrist, guiding his movements. 

“Don’t worry, baby, we’ll get there.” Richie groaned at the low tone in Eddie’s voice; he had no idea he could sound like that. He dipped his hand past Eddie’s waistband and wrapped his hand around Eddie’s cock, unable to wait any longer. He moaned as soon as he felt him, his cock hard and smooth and warm in his hand. Kissing his neck, he stroked Eddie slowly, running his fingers over him. “Fuck, that feels so good,” Eddie moaned. “Just like that, baby, yes, fuck.” While Eddie pushed his boxers down and stepped out of them, Richie spit into his palm, wrapping it around Eddie’s cock as soon as he was ready, getting it wet. They both groaned at the slick, smooth way Richie’s hand slid over Eddie. Richie’s chest bloomed with warmth as Eddie leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Richie’s shoulder, pressing kisses to Richie’s chest. 

“You are so fucking hot,” Richie said, pressing kisses to Eddie’s hair. Then, feeling emboldened by the way Eddie moaned and rocked his hips into his fist, he continued, “Can’t fucking wait to feel you inside of me.” 

“Fuck, I love you,” Eddie groaned. He pulled Richie into him, kissing him deeply, messily, desperately. Stroking him faster, Richie kissed back, matching his passion. “Oh my god, fuck, Richie, get on the bed.”

“Holy shit, yeah, okay,” Richie breathed, scrambling to do as Eddie said. At first he sat up, unsure where to put himself. But Eddie made it clear what he wanted as he climbed between Richie’s legs and pressed his hand against Richie’s chest, guiding him to lie back. With the way Eddie draped himself over Richie’s body and brought their lips together, running his hands over Richie’s thighs, he really truly could not believe this was his life. He moaned into Eddie’s mouth as their cocks rubbed together. “I love you,” he panted as Eddie kissed down his neck. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Eddie looked up at him and gave him a smile, pressing a kiss to his lips, one much softer than his previous ones. “So have I.”. Running his hands appreciatively over Richie’s body, he asked, “You sure about this?”

“Fuck yes,” Richie said, nodding enthusiastically. 

Eddie giggled and kissed him again. “Do you have lube and condoms?” 

“Top drawer of my desk.” As Eddie leaned over to grab them, Richie said, “God, this is actually happening, wow, okay, fuck. I’m clean by the way, like STD-free and everything, and also in the shower earlier—”

“Hey.” Richie shut up as Eddie stroked his hair. “Relax, okay? I’m gonna take care of you. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.” Richie nodded, but that wasn’t why he’d been rambling. Luckily, Eddie knew him, and he pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to Richie’s lips and told him, “You’re my best friend, you know that?” Richie let out a small breath as Eddie kissed the corner of his mouth, then his jaw, then his chest. “You are so gorgeous.”

Richie grinned. “So what you’re saying is you only like me because I’m hot?”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Yes.” He cut off any response by spreading Richie’s legs. 

“Oh, fuck,” Richie moaned, happily going where Eddie guided him. The satisfied smirk on Eddie’s face made Richie glow. 

He watched, enraptured, as Eddie poured the lube onto his fingers and spread it around. He watched Eddie’s eyes track his own movements as he brought his fingers down between Richie’s legs before looking up at him. “You ready?”

“Hell yeah,” Richie said, his grin wobbly from how breathless Eddie already had him. Eddie snickered at that before circling Richie’s entrance and slowly pressing his finger inside of him. Richie gasped, his head falling back to the pillow with a broken moan. He tensed at first, but soon relaxed as he felt Eddie work him open.

“You look so good,” Eddie murmured, almost as if to himself. It made Richie blush. He really wants this, he thought to himself, He really wants me. He settled comfortably into that reassurance as Eddie pressed kisses to Richie’s thighs and hips as he worked him open, thrusting his finger in and out gently. When Richie began rocking his hips with Eddie’s movements, seeking more, Eddie complied and thrust into him faster, soon adding a second finger. Richie moaned at the stretch and spread his legs wider. “Do you like that?” Eddie asked. 

Richie could tell from his voice that he knew the answer. Still, he breathed a blissed out, “Yes,” and groaned as Eddie thrust even deeper inside of him. It felt so amazing, Eddie’s fingers filling him up, sliding in and out of him. Just as he was settling into the rhythm, his mind pleasantly warm and fuzzy, Eddie curled his fingers, sending waves of electric pleasure through Richie. “Oh my fuck—” Richie cried, arching off the bed. He twisted his fingers in the sheets as Eddie’s fingers continued to graze over his prostate, making him buzz, the pleasure so deep and so intense.

And Eddie had the nerve to fucking giggle. “What? Does that feel good?”

“God, yes, yes, oh my god, oh my fucking god, fuck,” Richie answered, his words a string of broken whimpers. As he continued massaging that sweet spot, Eddie leaned forward and licked a stripe up the underside of Richie’s cock, making him practically scream. “Eds! Fuck, fuck, not gonna—shit oh my god, I’m not gonna last if you keep doing that.” 

Eddie looked up at him, feigning innocence. “You want me to stop?” Richie was so conflicted as Eddie licked the tip of his cock in short, light strokes, making his cock throb as he lapped up the precome dripping down the head. It was fucking heaven, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out if Eddie kept going, and he needed to feel Eddie inside of him. So, reluctantly, he nodded. “Why? What do you want?”

“God, fuck me, please,” Richie whined, shamelessly impatient and petulant. 

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Eddie said. He pressed slow kisses to Richie’s hip as he slowly pulled his fingers out. Richie sat up on his elbows to watch as Eddie rolled the condom onto his cock.

“Now that’s hot,” Richie said as Eddie poured lube onto his cock and stroked it, spreading the lube around. Eddie grinned and leaned down to kiss him. Richie ran his fingers through Eddie’s hair, holding him close a moment, really feeling his lips, the way he kissed him. He melted when Eddie pulled back and nuzzled his nose against Richie’s. He straightened up a bit then and lined his cock up with Richie’s hole. Eddie gently took Richie’s chin in his hands, guiding his gaze up to meet his.

“Are you ready?”

Looking into Eddie’s eyes, warm and brown and more familiar than the back of his own hand, Richie had never been more ready for anything in his life. “Eddie, my love, I’ve been ready for this for years.” His voice was soft as he reached out and stroked Eddie’s arm. “I am so in love with you and so, so, very horny.” 

“Richie,” Eddie sighed, an exasperated but amused grin on his face. “I love you, too.” Any other words Richie might’ve said died on his tongue as he felt the head of Eddie’s cock begin to stretch him open. He held Richie’s hips still with one hand and intertwined his fingers with Richie’s with the other. “Tell me if it’s too much, or if there’s anything you don’t like, okay?” Richie nodded, squeezing Eddie’s hand. He took a deep breath as Eddie moved his hips forward, going slow, letting Richie adjust. He needed a few moments to even out his breathing and get used to the sensation; as amazing as it felt, it was a lot. Soon, however, he was pressing his lips to Eddie’s knuckles and asking him to move. He gasped as Eddie pulled his hips back, but all of the tension flowed out of his body as Eddie pushed back in. It felt so natural, having Eddie inside of him, being connected like this. He could feel every nerve in his body sighing out a finally. “How does it feel?” Eddie asked. His voice was soft as he slowly, shallowly rocked his hips. 

With a lovestruck grin on his face, Richie answered, “Perfect.” 

A look crossed Eddie’s face then, one full of love and overflowing feelings. Richie only had a second to commit it to memory before Eddie leaned down and kissed him, kissed him like he wanted to press all of those feelings into Richie’s lips to make him understand them. Richie had a feeling he would never forget what Eddie looked like in that moment, how it felt when he kissed him like that. 

He whimpered when he felt Eddie tease his tongue over his, somehow gentle and so, so dirty at the same time. Eddie groaned and leaned in further, deepening the kiss and pressing his cock even deeper into Richie. Richie moaned at how good that felt; it was so much, almost too much, but he needed more. He rolled his hips as Eddie kissed him, pressing small moans into Eddie’s mouth every time his cock brushed against Eddie’s toned stomach. Searching for something to hold onto, something to ground him, his hands ran up and down Eddie’s back, gripped at his shoulders. It felt so amazing to have him so close, to be able to linger and really appreciate the feeling of Eddie’s soft, warm skin under his hands. “I’ve wanted to hear you moan like that for me for so long,” Eddie murmured, kissing along Richie’s neck, making him shudder. 

“Feels so good,” Richie breathed, his ability to string a complete sentence together already faltering.

“Yeah?” Eddie said, smirk evident in his voice. Richie moaned and threw his head back as Eddie picked up the pace of his thrusts. Hands sliding down to Richie’s hips, holding him up a bit as he fucked him harder, Eddie told him, “Fuck, you look so good like this. You feel so amazing.” Richie’s skin burned under the praise. He went to cover his face with his arm, not used to being complimented like that, but Eddie caught him by the arm and brought his lips to the inside of Richie’s wrist. He couldn’t believe how good such a simple touch felt. It had him bucking his hips into the air, his cock begging for attention as pleasure bloomed deep inside of him. It had him whimpering for more.

“Harder,” he begged. “Please, please fuck me.” With a hungry look, Eddie leaned over and pinned Richie’s wrist above his head and began fucking Richie hard and deep and fast, just like he’d asked for. Richie’s eyes went wide as he let out a broken, “Yes.” He threw his head back and screwed his eyes shut, really feeling every thrust. Eddie was fucking him so good, filling his room with the sound of skin on skin and Richie’s desperate moans of yesyesyesrightthereohfuckyesyesfuckyes. As he opened his eyes to find Eddie’s hooded and trained on his face, Richie couldn’t help but let out a dreamy, “I love you.”

Eddie groaned and pressed himself against Richie, chest to chest, his face buried in Richie’s neck. “I love you so much.” Richie wrapped his arms and legs around Eddie and held him tight. Eddie rolled his hips, burying his cock so deep inside Richie before pounding into him hard and fast again. With the way Eddie was fucking him, Richie’s cock sliding between them where they pressed against one another, Richie was getting close fast. It was all so much in the best way. He buried his face in Eddie’s shoulder, biting down. His muffled moans were punctuated by every thrust. He raked his nails down Eddie’s back as he felt his pleasure building, coiling within him. He was right on the edge, and he wanted to live in that intensity forever. Sinking further into his desperate haze, he rocked his hips, making his cock throb. 

“Eds,” he panted, throwing his head back, “‘m close, fuck, oh my god, I’m so close.”

Eddie sat up then, and Richie let his legs fall back to the bed, spread open wide. He cried out when Eddie wrapped his hand around Richie’s cock. He arched into Eddie’s touch, his hands gripping the sheets tight. “Come for me, baby,” Eddie moaned. “Fuck, I’m so close too, wanna watch you come on my cock.”

“Oh, fuck!” Richie cried. “I’m coming, I’m coming, fuck, fuck, yes,” he moaned, his eyes screwed shut and words slurring into moans as he came, his pleasure crashing over him like a wave, engulfing him entirely. All he could feel, all he could think was Eddie. Eddie, inside of him, touching him, making him feel like this. It made it so much better than it had ever felt, knowing it was Eddie holding him, that it was his Eddie looking at him, fucking into him, telling him:

“Rich, baby, I’m coming.” Richie was still catching his breath and coming down when he felt Eddie still his hips, burying his face in his neck, biting down and sucking hard as he groaned and gasped. Richie held him and stroked his hair as he came, barely believing he was making Eddie make those noises, that he made Eddie shake like that. Once he felt Eddie relax against him, pressing light kisses to Richie’s skin, Richie held him tight and buried his face in his hair. 

“Fuck,” he laughed, kissing Eddie wherever he could reach.

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed breathlessly. “That was… wow, that was amazing.” He rearranged himself so his head rested on Richie’s chest and smiled up at him. 

“Tell me about it.” Richie kissed his nose, then delighted in the adorable way Eddie scrunched up his face.

Eddie’s eyes searched Richie’s for a moment before he said softly, “I really love you. A lot.”

Richie melted; for a second he thought he might actually cry. “Eds, you’re the fucking light of my life,” he said, barely able to finish his sentence before he was bringing his lips to Eddie’s. “I love you so much.” He knew in that moment that he would never get tired of feeling Eddie smiling against his lips. 

Eddie pressed a kiss to Richie’s cheek before saying, “I’m gonna pull out, okay?” He giggled when Richie whined.

“Just a little longer?” he pouted. Eddie kissed it right away.

“As long as you want. I could stay like this forever.”

Richie snuggled into him, taking a moment to bask in the glow before saying, his voice smug and full of love, “I knew you’ve always liked it when I call you Eds.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Eddie giggled before attacking Richie with kisses.

taglist: @clouded-eyes-and-salty-tears @eddieeatsass @deadlighturis @constantreaderfool @reddieloserz @jessicaheartsderry @vegetarian-avocado @tinyarmedtrex @sml1104 @thelazyeye @itfandomprompts @montconde @fizzylemones @lexinatorwrites @scribbles-solo @nancythebisexualslutwheeler @cutedubutokki @peachcartoon123

[lovelylunarwriting]

Haechan Soulmate!AU

The first words your soulmate says to you are the words tattooed on your wrist.

Ever since you transferred from your old high school to this new one, all you've tried to do is not draw too much attention to yourself. 

The first couple days after you transferred in the middle of the year, you made a few friends and called it quits as far as climbing any social ladders goes. It's just not something that interested you. 

There is, however, someone who is interested in you. And his name is Jaemin. 

By some stroke of luck (to him), Jaemin managed to have almost every class with you. The only class he doesn’t have with you is fourth period history, the final class period of the day. 

You don't really know Jaemin, but it seems that trouble follows him everywhere. 

Trouble being his entourage of friends who are probably some of the most chaotic people you've ever encountered. 

Your last school was a lot more boring than this, so at least these boys keep you entertained. And generally speaking they keep the entire class entertained. 

They're all just so loud and not very low-key about their antics. 

Which is funny most of the time but can get annoying if done too often. 

Back to Jaemin though.

Jaemin has been obsessed with you ever since you transferred but is too nervous to talk to you- let alone ask you out. 

Some of his friends however, are astonishingly bold. One of these friends being Haechan.

And Haechan (along with most of Jaemin’s friends) is absolutely tired of him moping around all the time wondering if you’re his soulmate or not.

Renjun: “Dude just talk to them. Then you’ll know”

Jaemin: “Respectfully- no thanks”

Jisung: “Fine but if you don’t do anything you’re not allowed to whine about it”

Haechan: “I second that”

Jaemin: “Ugh but it’s bothering me! They could be my soulmate and I can’t know unless I talk to them but I can’t taLK to them?? Ya know??”

Renjun: “No we don’t know, just do it. Even if you’re nervous”

Jaemin: “But what if they’re not my soulmate?”

Jisung: “True, what if they’re MY soulmate?”

Chenle: “Oooo plot twist…”

Jaemin: “They’re not your soulmate, Jisung. You don’t suit them at all”

Jisung:”Oh and YOU do?”

Jaemin: “I could!!”

Jeno: “This isn’t helping! If Jaemin wants to talk to them then he will”

Jaemin: “Thank you, Jeno”

Jeno: “...but also could you talk about something (other) than them sometimes? It's getting old”

The next day Jaemin runs into the school building early, and up to the third floor staircase, where the boys usually hang out before the bell rings. 

He goes on this entire rant about how life’s too short and he’s gonna finally talk to you and confess his feelings.

The boys nod along and try to encourage him but… deep down they all know he’s not gonna do it.

Jaemin explains his plan to the eager listeners:

He’s gonna pass you a note during third period, since that’s the last class of the day he has with you.

Because then he doesn’t actually have to talk and risk saying something dumb. His logic is, that if you are his soulmate and he says something stupid, you might be pissed at him because that’s tattooed on you forever.

In his words, “I gotta make it count!”

Everyone agrees that this is an okay plan (Renjun claimed to have a better one but was quickly hushed), and that Jaemin should meet up with them after fourth period (the last class of the day), and tell them how it goes.

Jaemin agrees, the bell rings, and everyone goes their separate ways.

Jaemin spends the next five hours regretting his life decisions and desperately trying to refrain from nervous-puking up his breakfast (and later lunch).

Finally, third period arrives and as Jaemin walks in, you meet his gaze.

You think literally nothing of it, because you are more focused on cramming for the history quiz you’re gonna have to take next class period.

Why must you know every president and their political party? Because fuck you, that’s why.

Or at least that’s the thought that runs through your head almost the entire class because they’re going over Shakespeare and some other boring poetry stuff.

Jaemin though…. Jaemin is s w e a t i n g. Clammy palms, moist back, the whole package.

He asks the teacher if he can go to the bathroom (as an excuse but also because he feels like he might throw up his lunch after all), and slides the note onto your desk while you’re turned talking to your friend about how next period is gonna s u c k.

Jaemin leaves the room, and you lean back against your desk, unknowingly knocking the note onto the floor.

When he comes back inside (after like fifteen minutes of pacing in the bathroom and trying to not be anxious), Jaemin walks back to his seat but slows down when he passes you, giving you a chance to respond.

You though, have no idea of this boy and his well-meant schemes, so you just ask “You good, Jaemin?” as he hovers around your desk.

Jaemin blinks a few times, looks at his wrist, and sadly sighs. 

“Yeah… I’m fine”, he says, and plops down in his seat.

He traces the words “Wait- if it’s not butter, then what is it?” on his wrist with his finger, feeling stupid that he thought you might say that to him.

The context wasn’t right at all, but wishful thinking got the best of him.

He thought about texting the group chat and letting them know that you weren’t the one, but decided it was too embarrassing of an event to have to write out over text.

You on the other hand, still blissfully unaware of the shenanigans going on around you, head to your last class.

Dreading the quiz to come, you glue your nose to your textbook until the very last second.

The bell rings, the teacher hands out the quiz, and you write down everything you just spent the past hour cramming so you don’t forget it.

You finish early enough, and walk up to the teacher’s desk to turn in your paper.

The whole way there, you feel like someone’s watching you. And when you turn around to make your way back to your seat, you lock eyes with one of Jaemin’s friends, Haechan.

Sitting down, you space out and think about if maybe that Jaemin is the Jaemin your tattoo is referring to.

Your soulmate tattoo mentions the name Jaemin, but you never bothered talking to the boy because it wouldn’t make sense for him to talk about himself in the third person.

Plus, Jaemin is a pretty common name. If you jumped up every time you heard the name, you’d never sit down.

Something snaps you out of your thoughts. It’s that feeling again, like you’re being stared at.

You glance over and see Haechan looking at you again. He mouths something to you, but you can’t make out what he’s saying.

The only word you think you see is “soulmate”.

Maybe he saw your wrist and thinks Jaemin is your soulmate?? But you’ve already talked to Jaemin before, just last period. And it wasn’t him.

When the final bell rings, before you can get out of your seat, Haechan glides over to the front of your desk, slamming his palms on top of it.

Haechan: “You know Jaemin has a big ol’ crush on you, right? It’s so obvious”

You: “I guess I do now, since you just told me, but I don’t see it going anywhere if I’m being honest”

Haechan: “Is he not your-”, he starts but stops abruptly.

Haechan stares at you, wide-eyed, and then power walks out of the room.

You sit there with your mouth agape, looking back and forth from your wrist to the door he stormed out of.

“You know Jaemin has a big ol’ crush on you, right?”

It- you didn’t think it would be about this Jaemin. He was always so quiet around you and you literally hadn’t spoken to him until today.

As a kid you used to get your hopes up every time you met someone named Jaemin, thinking someone they knew was your soulmate, but after the fifth or sixth Jaemin it became too exhausting.

You’d honestly low-key forgotten about it by now… because the stress of school kind of gets in the way of life.

BUT NOW WE’VE GOT A LOT TO UNPACK BECAUSE JAEMIN HAS A CRUSH ON YOU BUT HAECHAN IS YOUR SOULMATE.

Loud, boisterous, diva, Haechan.

Speaking of Haechan though, he’s trying to figure out what the hell to do now.

Does he tell Jaemin? Or should he just not say anything?

Luckily, by the time Haechan meets up with the boys outside the school, Jaemin hasn’t shown up yet.

Haechan: “Okay I have bad news and good news and I don’t know which to say first”

Jeno: “Then just say both at once”

Haechan: “Okay well uh Y/N isn’t Jaemin’s soulmate”

Chenle: “Yeah I didn’t think so because of the butter thing, but how do you know?”

Haechan: “Because I talked to them and they’re my soulmate”

Jaemin: “They’re what?”

Jaemin had just gotten close enough to hear the conversation, but he heard every word.

Dead silence fell upon the group, Haechan not daring to make eye contact with Jaemin.

Jaemin: “Honestly Haechan… congrats”

Haechan: “What?”

Jaemin: “They’re not my soulmate and I’ve known that since third period. That’s what I came to tell you guys, but I guess you beat me to it. I’m not mad at you, it’s not like you could help it”

A collective sigh of relief and some quick banter, then the boys head their separate ways home.

Jaemin’s relieved to finally know one way or the other, and Haechan is now the one who gets to be a nervous wreck.

He’s not nearly as bad as Jaemin was though. He’s overthinking for about half an hour, and then just mildly jittery until he sees you tomorrow in fourth period.

Before you can say anything, Haechan repeats his routine of walking right up to you and planting his hands on your desk.

Haechan: “Hi so apparently we’re soulmates but I don’t know you very well but I want to and I don’t know if you’re busy or like boba but on Fridays we go get boba and play board games and it’s Friday so I thought you might-”

You: “I love boba. And board games. What time?”

Haechan: “O- oh. I thought I was going to have to convince you. Right after school we head across the street to that new boba place. It’s usually just me, Jisung, Chenle, and Jeno”

You: “Okay, then I’ll just walk with you after this class, right?”

Haechan: “...right. Shouldn’t you be more careful? I’m inviting you to go hang out with a bunch of guys you don’t know”

You: “You’re my soulmate. And I don’t know you very well, but you seem like a really sweet person”

This sends Haechan into a blushing frenzy, and it's all he can do to not sneak glances at you for the rest of fourth period.

He collects himself a bit, and when the bell rings he escorts you to the courtyard where you see three mildly familiar boys.

You think one of them is in your grade, but the other two look younger.

After Haechan introduces you and each boy briefly introduces themselves, the awkward politeness fades away and what replaces it can only be described as anarchy.

“Did you know Haechan fell asleep during our choir concert while some girl was doing a solo and he snored so loud she shushed him?”

“Yeah and Haechan can be dramatic at times so if he’s being too extra just let us know and we’ll keep him in check”

“Oh remember that time when we were long-boarding and the path flooded but Haechan tried to cross it anyway? Legend says the board is still floating down the creek to this day….”

It became a shit show of “who can embarrass Haechan the most”, but after a lot of complaining from Haechan and threats to do this to them when they found their soulmate, the boys managed to stop themselves.

Everyone orders their boba, and you all play uno, jenga, and other games until it becomes dark out.

Jisung: “Shit guys, it’s getting late. I don’t wanna miss the train”

You: “Yeah and I hate walking alone in the dark. I should probably go soon”

Haechan: “It’s fine, I’ll walk you home”

You: “Really? I was right, you are sweet~”

Chenle: “What but Haechan you usually walk with me! Now I’m gonna have to walk alone!”

Haechan: “Go spend the night at Jeno’s then! Walk home with him!”

Jeno: “Yeah let’s have a sleepover~”

Chenle: “Fine but we’re playing mario kart”

The boys disperse, and you lead Haechan down the street towards your house, chit chatting the whole way.

Even though it’s been a short amount of time, you and Haechan kind of just…  click together.

But that’s the whole point of soulmates, so you’re not that surprised.

He drops you off, but not before you ask for his number.

Haechan: “Wh- why?”

You: “So you can text me when you get home. I want to make sure you get there safe”

Haechan: “o- oh…”

You: “And so I can text you in general, of course”

Haechan seems to lighten up at this.

You head inside and immediately go to sleep, dreaming of the future you would have with that boy from your history class.

Oh and also Haechan failed the history quiz from the day before

34%. Rest in rip.

[mychemicalaromanticism]

things ive already established r on this post

besties this got so fucking long but heres a giant ramble about cherri

okay so. there are huge differences betwn cherri as a hyperviolent drac hunter and cherri as a friend of the four and cherri as the girls mentor. with the first one he was 17 and desperate to distance himself from his upbringing so he went all in on Being A Killjoy. he was always one of the first ppl to rush into a fight and he fought hard. he blew up his fuckin hand with that attitude. and all the while he was just racking up more unaddressed trauma and eventually he ran away from that, too. giving himself radiation poisoning was more appealing than facing his problems.

so as a teenager/young adult hes kind of constantly in a panicked state. hes scared the people from his past are going to find him and drag him back with them. so he lashes out and he runs away over and over again.

i said in another post that he has some past life shit goin on which usually would give him a connection to the witch that manifests early in life, but with all the stuff hes gone through he has been Preoccupied. he can become oblivious to almost anything that doesnt apply to whatever hes focused on. not in a hyperfocus way its likeeeeee. when u live on survival mode during prolonged periods of stress. hes immune to magic bullshit bc hes too tired and scared.

anyways around his mid-20s he finally has a little more stability (as much as the average person living in the zones can have, that is) and he finally notices that Weird Stuff happens around him. basically: out of my list of Powers People Connected To The Witch Have he has the prophetic dreams/enhanced intuition as well as a form of sensing ghosts where he can see auras and kind of like, echoes of past events in ppls lives. that look like auras. itz complicated and not of utmost importance so im leaving it at that.

anyways thats what makes him start writing poetry. just 4 funsies he'll describe his weird experiences and embellish them to make em pretty. just as a casual hobby n all that.

he would forget fun ghoul in between the times they ran into each other but its pretty easy to be reminded of who fun ghoul is. the most insane 10 year old cherri has ever met. cherri isnt a brother figure to ghoul. hes just. his friend that happens to be more than twice his age. its whatever lmao

to cherri, ghoul is kinda like a stray animal he keeps seeing. which is hilarious. ghoul actually goes and finds him to introduce him to jet when they start running together, and cherri meets party and kobra (spark and birdie at the time) when he drives the four of them to a party. because he has a truck hell yeah. so now instead of one stray animal he has, like, a feral cat colony that he drives around occasionally. i have no real-life human relationship equivalent to them because irl if some guy that is not related to any of you and isnt even a childhood or family friend and theyre hanging out with you? they are usually not a safe person lmao. but this is my fantasy land and im too stubborn to change anyones birth years even though ghoul being born in 2004 makes everything really hard to make not creepy.

so yeah hes a casual somewhat friend of the fab four. hed probably get more and more concerned as they got famous. the beginnings of any sort of protective feelings, awww :) that sets him up for becoming the girls mentor.

OH FUCK. THE GIRL..... i think if i was in my late 20s and i heard that the gang of 13-17 year olds had adopted a 5 year old kid i would go bananas. what the fuck. it is a LONG while before cherri meets her. but he has the strongest affection for ghoul (if you could even call it that) and ghoul absolutely adores the girl and swings her around under her arms like a cat to show her off to cherri and its very endearing and the girl is sweet and funny so its easy to be around her. and (unfortunately) she is somewhat used to interacting with weird easily agitated people so she kinda gives him space. cherri isnt quite the uncle figure the fandom usually makes him (i luv uncle cherri sm but he simply cannot exist in the universe ive created, f), but hes a little similar.

and then the four had to go and pretend to die. lol.

when the girl was kidnapped, fucking everyone who knew her was ready to storm the city then and there. like regardless of how little you knew her, if you had ever met her you would fucking die for her. she is pure childish charisma and shes precious. i love the girl. so cherris immediately on board with whatever plan the four make to get her back. ive already talked abt how it fucked up the girl tho; there was no way to tell her that the four werent actually dead, she sees the building collapse and she shuts down. and cherri has to fight against his instinct to leave the radio station and never come back when he sees an eight year old girl sitting dissociated on the couch. that fucks everyone up.

i just realized i havent talked about literally anyone else at the radio station. i think cherri started lingering around the station bc it was safe and sheltered while also not being a popular spot. there are less kids there (people pass through but its not a hangout spot). he was kind of just hanging around to get away from the heat and noise and dr d took notice. because that man can see ur soul and no one knows if thats literal or not. so theyd chat a few times a day and show pony was the one 2 get him out of his shell a little and also was the first one he mentioned his poetry hobby to. im making this all up right now as im writing bc i dont know anything about LITERALLY any of the ppl associated w the radio like im not even going 2 try with chimp n newsie i do not have the willpower to tackle all that. justttt. cherri pony n D become bros and live 2gether there.

back 2 the regular timeline. the rescue mission happens in 2019. the girl lives at the station until 2023. during that time she is very much depressed and withdrawn and is only happy when the four come to visit. none of the Adults know how to help her so they just keep her safe and cared for and hope she'll open up to them.

she does not. she takes the weird cat thats been hanging around and she runs away.

cherri does not see her for three years. shes still worse for wear in the mental health department and he can see all kinds of visions of what shes been through since the last time he saw her and he fucking hates the ultra vs bc they remind him of his past. he does not want her going down that path but its obvious that she isnt crazy abt the ultraviolence thing either so thats a relief.

they have a kind of tense relationship throughout the comics. he feels like he failed her and that spirals into feeling like he failed the four for not being a good adult to them and fun ghoul for not helping enough when his commune was bombed and all kinds of shit and that irrational thinking mixed with plain old, yknow, caring about the girl, is what makes him take a bullet (laser. whatever) for her.

i was trying to figure out the timing of each of their ghost experiences, but i want both of them to talk to the witch and im just gonna make it like dreams where a whole buncha stuff happens but irl its been like seconds. so its like barely a second while the girl has her Witch Convo and cherri FINALLY gets a straight answer, yes there is weird shit going on with him having powers. he doesnt have any story-significant past lives because im lazy, hes just an old soul. like really fuckin old. the amount of latent life experience and stuff his soul/energy/whatever has picked up along the way makes him VERY noticeable to gods n stuff. he fuckin lights up all the alarms like what the FUCK is that over there. she wasnt rly able to get to him or even properly notice him while he was a kid and a young adult so shes happy to finally see him again. he has a STRONG sense of familiarity with her. they know each other on a wild ass level that he cant really comprehend.

welp thats some more lore I'll have 2 think abt. anywayz

post canon is when he and val get to have the most awkward spiderman meme moment of realizing that they have the same trauma SOOOOO thatz fun lol /s sorry kings i thought it would be fun to give u something fucked up to bond over <3

not much changes in his personality. he has a better understanding of Weird Magic and delights in freaking out the ultra vs but for the most part he returns to his life at the radio station. i love him

THIS GOT SO CRAZY LONG I DID NOT MEAN 2 GO THROUGH EVERY PART OF HIS LIFE LIKE SOME WEIRD CHARACTER STUDY but here we are. this is basically a first draft like almost all of this is subject to change but u gotta start somewhere. so heres my start i love this guy. its probably obvious but i have not read ANY twitterverse killjoys stuff </3 maybe i will someday idk

[bluejeanlouis]

COMING SOON: The Yellow Roof, 1970s AU by kiddle

Louis is a gifted musician spending his days on the wrong side of a drive-thru window. Harry is the lead singer of a band in need of a little talent. Their big break is a thousand miles away. 

Preview under the cut:

With a deep sigh, Louis leaned his chair on its back two legs, propping one of his feet up next to the till in front of him. The sun was blinding between the trees of the neighbourhood across the street, striking his eyes through the drive-thru window. He yanked the blind closed even though he wasn’t supposed to when the Fotomat was open. But there was no one around and his ability to give a shit had decreased significantly today. Slurping on the can of Coke he brought with him, he pulled out his lyric book.

Louis was not a poet. In fact, the pretentious and dull poetry class he took in his second semester at college was detrimental in his decision to drop out a year later. He didn’t like the confusion of poetry and the rules despite being an art form that claimed to be free of them. Don’t get him wrong, he was confident in his own writing, he just didn’t want to be taught how to do it.

But one look under the cover of that notebook would reveal pages and pages of poetic garbage. Some of it was great, and a couple had even ended up as actual songs back when Louis was performing solo at bars before he gave up on that too. Most of it was scribbled chicken scratch. That was just his process.

He held the notebook against his knees, tracing dark lines across the last words he wrote last night with his pen. It was some bullshit angsty heartbreak harnessed from his high school first love mixed with the anger of being sacked from a band that he was the best instrumentalist in. Sometimes that kind of emotion makes for a perfect writing session, and sometimes it’s a diary entry you never want to see the light of day.

Louis bit the end of his pen, rereading the words on his page. ‘Heart’ had to be the most overused word in love songs, and he had it down in every verse and the chorus. Love songs weren’t even what he wanted to write about. It wasn’t the only feeling out there. It sure as hell wasn’t the most predominant one in his mind.

A loud and abrupt knock on the window made Louis nearly leap out of his seat. His notebook and pen tumbled to the ground as he dropped his feet from the desk. He yanked on the string to make the blind spring back up, knocking his Coke over in the process. He picked it up just as quick, groaning at the mess it made. All the commotion caused the stack of pickup envelopes next to the widow to splay out over the desk in front of him. Now that the customer could see him, he tried to push him all out of the way before he slid the window open.

“Hi, welcome to— Shit!”

One of the envelopes had landed in the small puddle of spilled Coke. He tried to wipe it off on his jeans as quickly as he could before returning it to the scattered pile with the others. Once he finally composed himself, he tried to greet the customer properly.

But then his face fell to disgust.

“What are you doing here?”

“You left so quickly yesterday, we didn’t have the chance to talk,” said Harry, the lead singer of Louis’ former going-nowhere band. Harry had one hand casually rested on the steering wheel, the other elbow poking out the window, and sunglasses sitting low on his nose. Louis hated how effortlessly cool he could always look. It made him the perfect goddamn lead singer.

Louis rolled his eyes. “What did you want me to do? Beg for you to let me stay? ‘You’re out of the band’ was pretty loud and clear.”

“I mean, I thought we could have a discussion about it.”

“So you showed up to my work to have a discussion about it?” He hunched over so just his head was sticking out the window, his fist squished into his cheek to hold his head up.

“You wouldn’t answer the phone last night.”

“Take a hint,” he snapped, then slid the window shut with enough force to make it bounce halfway open again. He pushed it the rest of the way closed in a huff.

But Harry hadn’t driven away yet, so Louis slumped over in his chair and refused to look in his direction. Why the hell would he show up here? Just to rub it in his face? The new guy always loses the band argument. Louis was over it, and he had the faint remnants of a hangover to prove it.

He took a swig of his Coke that was now almost empty. No one ever left any napkins around here, but a few tissues seemed to do the trick to sop up that puddle. As he tried to avoid getting sticky hands, Louis could see Harry getting out of his car in the bottom corner of his eye. Then he heard the window opening again.

“Louis, listen to me,” Harry pressed. He had his hand in the way so Louis couldn’t shut it, but it did cross Louis’ mind to crush his fingers just to get him out of here.

“Go away,” he stated, pulling the roller blind between them. If only it was soundproof.

The blind sprung up again, revealing a wildly frustrated Harry on one side and an indifferent Louis on the other. He was pretending to read a copy of Vogue that one of the girls from the after-school shift left behind last night.

“We have a meeting with a record company in L.A. and they’re expecting a four-piece to show up. There’s no time to find a new bassist, so you’re back in the band.”

Louis folded down one corner and peeked his eye over Carrie Fisher’s head.

“How’d you get a meeting? The band sucks.”

Harry stared at him, angrily chewing on his lip, then turned around with a huff. “Fuck you,” he muttered, opening his car door.

Louis waited for him to start the engine and leave, but then the words “L.A.” and “record company” flashed with lights and sirens in his mind, and he imagined this opportunity driving off and never looking back.

“Wait!” Louis called out, tossing the magazine to the side and launching himself out the back door. He ran across the front of the car and slammed his hands on the hood so Harry couldn’t move the car an inch further. They eyed each other, and when Louis trusted that Harry wouldn’t speed off the moment he moved, Louis ran around to the passenger seat and got in.

Harry shook his head, both hands gripped tight on the steering wheel. “I’ve been dealing with your bullshit for ten years, man,” he said.

So maybe Louis wasn’t being totally truthful about what happened with the band.

Louis met Harry in his first year of middle school. They ended up in the same gym class, which was hell for every twelve-year-old, but for people like Louis and Harry, it was just a little too much to bear. They found skillful ways to ditch whenever possible, especially when it came to running the mile. Sometimes they’d hang out near the back of the group when everyone was filling out the gym doors, then slip out the side and circle the building before the teacher saw. The equipment closet was full of plenty of hiding spaces that begged to be taken advantage of. The best days were when they had a substitute who wouldn’t even notice that they never came back from a bathroom break in the change room.

In high school, they drifted, hanging out in the same group of freaks and burnouts, but not often with each other. They’d find themselves at the same parties and bickering in the same cars full of friends, but that initial bond had faded. Once college rolled around, they weren’t surprised to find out they’d be going to the same state school, but discovering their dorms were across the hall from each other was quite the shock.

They had become inseparable again, except for the inevitable monthly fights that left them not speaking to each other for days at a time. That went on for about two years until Louis dropped out and Harry continued with his literature degree. During that time, they hardly saw each other at all. Louis began to wonder if their friendship had only ever been one of convenience. But just as the year of 1972 was beginning, Louis got a phone call from that on-and-off best friend of his asking if he wanted to join his band.  

Harry and Louis fought from day one, but just as much as they hated each other’s guts, they loved each other too. Louis would still consider Harry his friend, but he would have no problem telling him what an insufferable bastard he was right to his face. It was a brotherly bond. Sort of.

“How’d you get the meeting?” Louis asked, turning sideways in his seat. “When is it?”

“We sent in our demo and they want to talk to us. That’s it,” he said. “The meeting is next week and they want all of us there.”

“Me included?”

“You’re on the demo.”

The demo was pretty shit if you asked Louis, but he decided to keep that to himself. They recorded it at their old college in the crummy basement studio run by students, and you could guess that by the first listen. Louis looked out at the empty parking lot ahead of them. He had memorized every detail of this parking lot. It had become the scenery for his life. He couldn’t wait until he never had to look at it again.

“Do you actually want me back in the band?” Louis wondered, sincerity in his voice for once.

“I—” Harry started, but didn’t look him in the eye. “I want to be at a place where you could be in the band without the two of us constantly at each other’s necks.”

“That would be nice, yeah,” Louis sighed.

They sat in silence, Louis weighing his options and Harry wondering if he really should’ve taken that ignored phone call as a hint.

“So, what, is this to discuss an album deal?” Louis asked, hoping more detail might help his decision.

“It’s to discuss our potential. They didn’t tell me a whole lot, but if they want to spend their time on us then they gotta have some hope.”

A car horn blared loudly behind them, an impatient customer waiting his turn to desperately develop the photos from his five-year-old’s birthday party, surely. It startled them, but that was Louis’ cue to get back to work, he supposed.

“Can I think about it?” Louis asked. He was already halfway out the door.

“Not for too long. We meet them next week.”

The horn blared again.

“One second!” Louis called out. The guy in the car flipped him the bird and Louis wasn’t hesitant to send him one right back.

“What’s the label?”

“CBS,” Harry said.

Shit, Louis thought. CBS was no joke.

“Move your fucking car!” the guy behind them hollered out his window.

Harry glanced at the angry face in his rear-view mirror, then ignored it completely. Louis looked like he was about to leave, but Harry grabbed his arm to stop him. “Before you go, take this.” He dropped a roll of film into Louis’ open palm.

Louis looked at it curiously, his other hand on the door handle. “What’s this?”

Harry laughed. “Photos I need to get developed. This is a Fotomat, is it not?”

“It is,” Louis said slowly.

“I’ll be back in twenty-four hours,” Harry said, plucking his sunglasses off the dash and sliding them onto his face. “For those photos and for an answer.”

[tfwhynoy]

Mtmte Megatron with a soon to be s/o who’s a newbie (?) at poetry and isn’t very confident in her works? Maybe some fluff and a confession? If not I understand, and while I’ve only read a bit of your work I believe I can say you have some writing talent!! (Sorry if it seems like I’m trying to get on your good side to do this more (?) not my intention!) (( and sorry do that was worded weird I’m rambling on text yay!!))

I’m never good at fic endings rip. I hope you like it though!

It was just poetry, some random form of art like anything else. It’s something almost ingrained in humans like song or dance. There was no such thing as a bad poem! Art isn’t something you can be ’bad’ at.

Still, as you read over your most recent haiku you couldn’t help the feeling of shame build up. It felt too short and poorly put together. Each word was stretched to fit together into a cobbled mess only the poorly read could even consider poem.

Crossing out the whole thing you tried to move on and think of something else. Most people wrote about love or sadness, right? But you had already tried that and all it came across as was some highschooler’s cheesy love poem or ‘deep’ tweet.

Hell, you didn’t even know the basic terms anyone who knows anything about poetry did. The fuck is a sonnet? Literally everyone else but you knows! How can you even think you could make something decent?

You thought about asking for some help. Magnus was a living dictionary who loved anything word related; he wrote plenty of his own and had a particular love of poetry. 

It’d be a cold day in hell before you genuinely considered that an option though. Asking him for assistance on anything had him correcting you on the right use of ‘can’ and ‘may’, let alone in when he held a day to lecture you on ‘too’ vs ‘to’ and ‘effect’ vs ‘affect’ in your reports. You go to him and he’d just belittling you for each mistake or typo. You sure as hell weren’t in the mood for more nagging about how you spoke.

You jumped out of your seat at the sound of your habsuit door opening. Quickly you set a datapad over the old notepad you had been working on. Yes ociffer, paperwork on a weekend is your faaavorite.

“You’ve been busy I see,” You turned as Megatron walked in. You hadn’t realized it was six o’clock.

As usual, he came with a small box for you to take from his fingertips, within was your dinner. He sat beside your small working platform, carefully placing the box beside where you are sitting.

You open the box and retrieve the silver ready-made tray of dinner. Some alien language you haven’t seen is scrawled across it. The writing almost forms what looks like a mutant strawberry. It’s highly unlikely but you can’t help the small bit of hope that whatever food you got may just taste like it too.

You go to move the stuff on your desk but pause. Paper was a peculiar thing to be writing on since it wasn’t exactly common in the middle of buttfuck nowhere space. You preferred the more tactile writing of a physical copy so you had been using it for your poetry. You’d rather not get Megatron questioning about it though.

“Is something the matter?” Apparently, you had taken a noticeable enough pause for him to notice.

“Na, just a little scatterbrained today,” You reply in an all too chipper tune.

You ignore his raised eyebrow and set the tray on the datapads. You’re always so careful with these things, treating them the same as the fragile tablets on Earth. You still feel odd doing this, your back is somewhat stiff as you carefully peel the silver topping off the tray.

“Are you sure nothing is wrong?” You ignore him, you’ve already opened this can of worms, now you gotta lay in ’em.

“Liaison?” His tone was firm. The particular word was abrasive as a pineapple to the face coming from him. You hated it when he called you that. Hadn’t the two of you moved passe passed all that formality after the universe jump?

“Yes?” 

“Is something the matter?” Megatron seemed genuinely concerned. How had you let some stupid poems rock you so much?

“It’s nothing.”

He looked at you from the corner of his optic for a moment. “You sure? You seem rather tense for a weekend. Is something upsetting you?”

You grimace. No point in drawing out this stupid point langer than necessary. 

“It’s just a shitty poem I wrote. Wasn’t satisfied and you didn’t exactly give me the chance to prevent it from ever reaching the light of day.”

A raised eyebrow and your immediately turning back to dinner.

“Something as small as a poem doesn’t seem big enough to upset you so much. There’s more going on isn’t there? ” The concern and care he had towards you at the moment almost pissed you off more than the fact he was right.

You had just hoped to try and write something for him. You expected something a bit cheesy but you refused to consider giving him the roses are red or some shitty haiku poems you kept making. Sadly that was all you really knew how to write.

“I just…” the smell of seafood wafted from your fork as you took a bite. If you tried hard enough you could almost believe it was just the fishy oyster smell turning your stomach to knots.

“I wanted to make something of worth. Not perfection, just something worth the half a minute it took to read it.”

“Why are you so focused on a good result?” You held back a scoff. How could you not? What would the point of writing shit be?

“I had someone in mind when writing it” you set the food on the desk with a huff, “I wrote from the heart and put all my mushy-gushy feeling into it. I tried following the rules then tried fucking them up. Everything turned out even worse than the last.”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.” 

You snort, “You haven’t read it.”

“If you let me read it I may be able to help. I’m not the best with romance but I can try to help.” 

“Ya, no,” You take another bite.

You silently scoff at the idea of him helping, “Like I’d ask someone for help on a poem I want to give to them,” 

Fuck

A small glance at Megatron to see him almost frozen staring at you. 

“Did I say that out loud?” you squeak. 

His eyes narrowed, “Why would you stress over something for me?” Megatron seemed more suspicious than anything.  

Sinking slightly in your seat you struggled to find something for your eyes to focus on. “Uuuh…” Another glance and he was completely focused on you. A mix of suspicion and hurt was painted across his face. You couldn’t figure out why that was but you weren’t happy about it.

“I’ve just been trying to find a good way to say I love you..” you mumbled.

You don’t have to look ate Megatron to see he’s flabergasted, the loud sound of shifting metal as he lurches back. You sink furth into your chair, pushing the tray of food back. Your biggest worry about telling Megatron how you felt seems to be coming to life.

“Let’s just forget this okay. I know it’s a bad idea, sorry.”

The silence is thick in the air for a minute before Megatron speaks again. “I… Why don’t we talk about this,” a glum look at him and he’s focused on the floor while he talks, “I do love you. We don’t need to worry about Earth or anything like that now since you aren’t actually Earth’s liaison now,” he turns and you two make cautious eye contact, “If we are to have a relationship we need to sot down and have a serious discussion about this.”

You’re quite as the gears in your head start turning. “Seriously?”

He nods, “Of course.”

You take a deep breath to steady yourself, “Ya okay. I can do that.”

[pumpkinofthedale]

hi, i just want to say that your cronus takes?? *chefs kiss* your cronus art???? *chefs kiss* thAT SNIPPET OF THE CRONUS FIC YOURE WRITING?????? *CHEFS KISS!!!!!!!!* youre the only person who ive seen put out good cronus takes on a regular basis and i want to thank you for that!!!! ps. speaking of that cronus fic, PLEASE tell me its almost finished. im starving for quality cronus fics

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1

aodufij[0ot4[oqieg’oklheg[982afkjadf;klaslfehi

I uh... i love you??? Very much anon

it’s about halfway done (The first chapter at least) (I plan for it to be two chapters) (It’s... it’s over 8000 words rn.... it’ll probably end up like 20k because I haven’t seen any good reader inserts for cronus in like... almost ever. People tend to either write him as an extreme asshole or like a wooby romantic without finding a good balance or addressing some of the serious psychological issues that come from extreme feelings of isolation)

ANYWAYS!

Here have another excerpt ;3c

(bc i love you)

“That’s very nice, Eridan. I’m glad you’re so passionate about your rivalry, but we still gotta make sure you finish up your homework.” You patiently replied.

He just groaned in response.

“Can’t you just do it for me or somefin?”

“Nope.” You made the mistake of looking up, catching sight of Cronus watching you both from the sofa in the other room. He smirked at you, and you rolled your eyes, turning back to look at the almost blank sheet of paper. “C’mon, these proofs aren’t going to do themselves.”

But it was almost useless as your pupil just stared off into space, drumming his fingers on the table with a determined little smile on his face.

“I can think of a couple things I wouldn’t mind watching do themselves.” Cronus said from his position on the couch. You glared at him. “If you know what-”

“Everyone knows what you mean, Cronus. You’re as subtle as a cannon.”

He just grinned, sharp teeth gleaming in the light. “I’ll show you my cannon anytime, kitten.”

You’re pretty sure you might actually end up murdering him.

“Don’t you have like… actual things to do? Like anywhere else? Ever?”

“And miss this view?” He gave you an overly suggestive wink. “You coming to the Crisp-mas party, kitten? It’s not just gonna be Danny-boy and his wiggler friends. There’s gonna be other adults and booze and stuff. It’ll be fun. Some of my other friends’ll be there too.”

You had to admit it did sound a lot better than sitting alone in your apartment getting sad drunk and crying yourself to sleep to the backdrop of hallmark movies.

“You could even bring your boyfriend that you talk about so much.” That sent a pang through your chest that you did your best to ignore. “Maybe even have a threesome because you know I’m down for that. Like not even just a little down, like super down. Damn, babe, that sounds hot. You’ve convinced me. You, me, him, let’s make a fucking Cronus sandwich. Damn that’s a good line, I gotta write that down. That’s so going into my next song.”

He hopped over the couch to the table to snag a pencil and piece of stationary, writing his lyrical masterpiece down.

“That’s going to be a hard pass. Phil and I are not looking for a unicorn and if we were you definitely would not meet the criteria.” You snorted, looking over to see Eridan just doodling a picture of him and who you guessed was John, kissing under some mistletoe but also somehow looking incredibly mad while doing it. God was romance the only thing this entire household thought about?

“I guess that’s what a guy gets for trying to be inclusive and sex positive in this world.” Cronus pouted. “I go ahead and put myself out there over and over again and everyone just steps all over my poor little pump biscuit. Every single time…. And all I ever want to do is be sensitive and listen and write poetry about them. But no, no one wants a sweet, nice guy.” He hurled himself dramatically onto the couch. “It’s like I have to broken to get some attention,” (You were at least ninety five percent sure at least part of him was broken). “No one understands the soul of a tortured artist. Being deep is hard. It’s hard and nobody understands.”

“You’re not deep, you’re just desperate. Get over yourself.”

You’re pretty sure you heard him mutter, “no one understands” into one of the many nautically themed couch pillows, but he had stopped bothering you, and it was clear that Eridan was not in the right head space for proofs. Maybe it would be best if you were to cut the session short…. You had a lot of lab journals to grade anyway.

But as you stood up, Eridan turned to you, a thoughtful look on his face as though doing some sort of mental calculation. He wore his heart on his sleeve, and his internal monologues were pretty easy to decipher just by watching his face. Finally he came to rest at a pout, cheeks sort of puffed out while he looked to the side, his hands clenching and unclenching. “Teach me how to make those cookies… so I can rub John’s stupid face in how talented I am.”

[twilightofthe]

In celebration of Mutual Acquaintances.. Satine: 5, 6, 7, 8, 28, 31, 42, 47, 48; Obi-Wan: 7, 8, 12, 14, 27, 31, 33, 47, 48; Padmé: 4, 6, 7, 8, 12, 18, 19, 28, 33, 34, 39, 42; The Disaster Boi: 10, 12, 14, 18, 20, 22, 28, 29, 31, 33 and bc we all need more sexuality headcanons, 13 for ALL of them

Whooo-WEE here we go, thank you!  Get ready for VERY VERY LONG Rambling!

SATINE

(5) Cleanliness habits: Oh, she’s a total neat freak.  Everything in her office is minimalist style and organized to a T.  If someone moved something even an inch, she’ll be hounding everyone about who was messing with her stuff.  Constantly washing hands, very clean, doesn’t like dust on stuff at all (has a bit of a dust allergy, actually.  Lily pollen getting everywhere is a Problem for her).  She’s practical, however, and if she HAS to get down and dirty, she will-- of course not without a suitable amount of icky faces made plus a side of complaints xD

(6) Eating habits and sample daily menu: Ok so we’ve got canon showing her eating meat, but don’t tell me Super Pacifism Lady wouldn’t IRL be that one ubervegan friend of yours on Facebook who’s constantly posting weird things about it and you gotta be like “aight Katie chill”.  ANYWAY, so I’d say Satine in canon eats healthy-ish?  She’s not the biggest fan of breakfast foods and is always up in the morning doing stuff, so she sometimes forgets to have anything besides black coffee.  She’s not a particularly picky eater so she’ll eat whatever the cook is serving that day, but she prefers simpler meals, and can cook for herself (which came in handy during the Year On The Run because neither Obi Wan nor Qui Gon can cook for shit (my canon is no one in that line besides Anakin can cook and I’ll die with it) and eventually Satine was like “guys, I’m sorry, but no, u can’t try and protect me and then poison me at dinnertime.  I’ll cook”).  She does like to pair her evening meals with whatever drink she’s having that night.  I also h/c her as a functioning alcoholic, so she’s always got SOMETHING to drink, but she is trying to work on restraint and control because when she was younger it got... Not Good at one point.  She also has a sweet tooth though, and she really likes chocolate!

(7) Fave way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time: Satine is a... twitchy.... individual with a stressful job, so she is kinda conditioned into stressing the heck out if she’s got too much free time.  Therefore, a lot of her free time is spent trying to relax.  Cleaning is theraputic for her, so she does clean (yes, there is a cleaning droid but it is nOT GOOD ENOUGH) when she can.  She likes that Mando sword box game we saw Sabine and Fenn Rau playing in Rebels, it clears her head and lets her practice problem solving.  She likes going for walks too.  She’ll sneak down to the kitchens and just make a bunch of sandwiches.  She does enjoy beautiful things, so I’d say shopping for dresses or browsing art galleries is good too.  I also think she’d be the type to read and write poetry, then save bits she likes.

(8) Indulgences: Look, Satine likes Nice Things, ok?  She does consider fancy wardrobe and buying nice paintings a bit of an indulgence, but she adores color so she excuses that as promoting happiness for the people. As so she does a fancy ship and other fancy trinkets around the house. She’s not a huge fan of most people touching her, but she allowed a massage once... she would be amendable to perhaps another in the future.........  Scented candles are nice too, clears the head.  She refuses to consider chocolate an indulgence because it is obviously the gods’ gift to humanity, excuse you.  Are we calling lusting over her secret forbidden boyfriend an indulgence????

(28) Who is their best friend?  Their worst enemy?  The sad thing about Satine Kryze is that canon wise, she is extremely lonely.  Literally everyone she trusts betrays her at some point-- which also makes worst enemy pretty hard too.  In my verse, this has led to her kind of shutting away from friends because people always leave her-- though I’d say she’s always been close with Padmé; she sent aid to Naboo after the Federation Blockade and got to know and became extremely impressed with the young Queen, and they kept in touch afterwards.  Whether they could be together or not, I’d always say Obi Wan was her best friend too because that’s ALWAYS necessary in a relationship, and they clearly stayed in contact and knew each other like the back of their hands.  I’d honestly say her worst enemy is herself, cliché as it is, because girlie makes a LOT of mistakes-- and then never learns from them or even acknowledges they exist besides an “oh whoops, that happened, we fixed it, everyone as you were”.  I get it wasn’t meant that way, but she legit committed ethnic cleansing against her political opponents.  I hate to say it, but there are very valid reasons for a lot of people to Not Like Her (none of the guys who attack her on the show count because they’re literally all douchecanoes fuck them), and she kind of shoots herself in the foot trying to fix the problem but making it worse.  I h/c her as having a lot of self-loathing problems because she is trying to fix things but nothing ever works and that must be her problem so she must try harder without ever confronting what exactly her problem is.

(31) Most prized possession: Woah, never really thought of that.  As much as I want to say “pressed flower from Obi Wan”, that’s a little too sappy.  I’m going to go with this.  There is a famous Mandalore version of The Art of War, and Satine has an uber-extremely-rare first edition copy given to her from her father, who was a master strategist and had the wealth and power to collect nice things like that.  Satine may be a pacifist, but she has her family’s warrior’s spirit, and she enjoys adapting the book’s battle strategies to her own political fights and how she shapes her own life.  It’s an actual old paper book, so she keeps it in a locked box under her bed and only ever reads it by candlelight with special gloves on to protect the pages.

(42) Hobbies: Like I said before, cleaning, writing poetry, the occasional cooking.  Oh!  Whenever she has Korkie over, she lets them pick the activity they do.  This may or may not lead to Duchess Satine Kryze of Mandalore getting very invested in Space Mario Kart.  She’s good at it too!  So yes, gamer girl, and she also likes looking at art and she’s also also pretty good at dancing and yoga, which she does a bit of both for exercise.  She also enjoys watching shows at the theater, but she’s weird in the way where she refuses to watch TV or movies because they’re “not as good”.

(47) If they were to fall in love, who or what is their ideal:  I’d say trust is the most important thing for her, given how many things go wrong in her life.  Someone she can trust to be herself around instead of The Duchess and can both support her when she’s falling but also call her on her bullshit (or try to, anyway) when needed.  Again, she likes nice things, so she tends to fall for super attractive people lol.  Another thing is, she likes to feel safe.  She goes for the protectors, those who fight for everyone and can come back and hold her tight in a hug if she feels like she’ll fall apart because she sometimes needs someone to protect her too.  They also have to be as smart as she is (only smarter if they’re not a dick about it) so she can have intellectual conversations (indignant yelling matches), and she needs someone who can match the firecracker she can tend to be, someone who can jump right in after her.  Not a weakling, basically xD

(48) How do they express love: She just says it (”I love you”), if they’ll let her.  If they don’t let her or she can’t for some reason (*coughOBIcoughcough*), she becomes frustrated because she isn’t always the best, emotion-wise, and she worries she’ll make the wrong gesture or do something to mess up, so frustration can build towards the other person so she can also be very snappy at them.  In general though, familial or romantic or platonic, it’s just lots of soft smiles that no one else sees, letting them see her in casual clothing, teasing them or telling jokes, trusting them enough to tell them about the confusion and stress inside her head.

OBI WAN

(7) Fave way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time:  Obi Wan is of the opinion that time enjoyed is never wasted, so he only views wasted time as exactly that: time that could be spent doing something but is instead being wasted not doing anything or doing something he doesn’t like.  His favorite things to do when he has time to himself are read (he’s not picky, he’ll read most things with an interesting plot, though he does enjoy a good mystery or historical nonfiction), watch trashy tv shows (he’s only watching them to judge how bad they are, it’s Anakin’s fault, really, he watched them first, and Obi Wan just needs to know what happens next--), sketch random objects (he’s a pretty good artist, and it’s relaxing), do research on stuff because he is a NERD, go bug Anakin and/or Ahsoka because he honestly delights just sitting in their company and hear them talk about their day, drink with friends, spar (with Anakin, preferably, he’s the most of a challenge because he knows him so well, and he’s the only one who doesn’t hold back at all), sit in the Temple gardens and check on Qui Gon’s favorite flowers he planted there and bask in the serenity of it all.

(8) Indulgences: Ooooohhhh this is hard because Obi Wan is so Obi Wan about that sort of stuff, it can be difficult to read what he would do xD  I’ll say he indulges in food?  That while Jedi probs have a pretty strict health food diet, on the weekends or once a weekday he indulges in getting nice stuff for breakfast, ice cream for dessert, fried food at Dex’s because why not, it tastes good and Anakin did a good job today or he did a good job today and that deserves something, so oh well, he’ll just work out harder tomorrow.  He’s also has some very nice old teas he saved from Qui Gon The Absolute Tea Snob he’ll have when he feels he needs it, and he’s got a cabinet with like four bottles of different really good, expensive alcohols that he’ll drink when he REALLY feels he needs it.  I’ll also say this, boi is vain about his hair.  Will never admit it in a million years, but he is, so he’s probs got at least some sort of haircare products that aren’t exactly necessary, ya know xD.  He also does like his creature comforts when available, so I’d say he’s got a couple super fluffy blankets and maybe the thread count in his sheets are a bit higher than average cuz hey, soft things are nice.  He also indulges in being lovey and mushy to the people he cares about 

(12) Favorite book genre: Hey, I kinda talked about that!  So yeah, I’d say he’ll probs try anything, but he likes mysteries and thrillers since with a book the Force can’t give you any Bad Feelings about anyone, so the surprises are genuine surprises.  He also likes historical nonfiction because he is a NERD, but he’ll absolutely pick up whatever’s at the top of the Galactic Times Bestseller’s List if it’s there and give it a chance

(14) Physical abnormalities (including injuries/disabilities, illnesses, allergies): His right hip acts up in the cold from an old slug wound there (Anakin does indeed tease him about being an old man), over half of his teeth are fake or replaced because come on, have y’all seen how often he’s been hit in the face?  Scars literally everywhere because everyone and everything has tried to murder him at some point or another.  I h/c him with ADD, depression, anxiety, and dyscalcula (he had to really work to be good with numbers) as well as PTSD because basically all of the Jedi do at some point (someone HELP THEM).  He also has TMJ, which I also have and I project my issues.  It gets worse when you’re stressed and grind teeth, so it’s valid.  Idk whether it’s canon or fanon that he has some food allergies, but I am ALL FOR IT with him just... forgetting about them???  And then eating some food and be like “hwoops I’m dying lol” while Anakin is like seriously Master again? and legit ends up the Mom friend with a list of foods like “is there gonna be this food in it?  Cuz he can’t eat it” and then he’ll eat it anyway cuz it looks good and Anakin is all “what do you have in your MOUTH” and he’ll be like “uh” and yeah, that sounds funny

(27) Biggest regret: WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS.  ok so we all know how literally everything about Obi Wan’s life is a mcfreaking nightmare.  We ALSO know he blames himself for literally everything.  So yea, he’s got a looooot of regrets.  I’d say his biggest though is not being a good enough Jedi (in his opinion) to save those he cared about (Qui, Satine, Anakin, Pads, the entire dang Jedi Order, etc.).  Maybe just not a good enough person, in his eyes.  If he hadn’t screwed up somehow, everyone would still be here and fine and omg someone help him

(31) Most prized possession: Luke Skywalker.  Ok, not actually, but y’all can’t deny Luke was Obi Wan’s greatest treasure.  I’d say actually tho it’s holos, of people he loves and cares about, in a kind of album he keeps to himself.  He hates having his own picture taken, but he loves seeing the smiling, laughing faces of everyone he knows (and is reminded of them when they’re no longer here).

(33) Concept of home and family: He always feels like other people overcomplicate this.  Home is where you feel safe to always return, where you belong, and family is those you love and wish to spend your life with.  Now, the fact that he only really allows himself to acknowledge the Jedi as a whole as his family and doesn’t exactly allow himself to dwell on specifics like what Anakin means exactly to him, what Ahsoka means, what Qui Gon meant, because he does love everyone as a family, why does he have to define it?  That’s a whole ‘nother basket of his issues lol

(47) If they were to fall in love, who or what is their ideal:  Obi Wan Kenobi has always been attracted to chaos and danger like a moth to a flame, so anyone he loves is gonna be a whirlwind of an individual.  He likes someone who can challenge him, who can test him.  He likes someone who’s loud and bright, the stars at the center of solar systems that everyone else can’t resist orbiting around and Obi Wan is no different.  He likes snappy humor and the amusement he can get from playfully bugging them into hissing at him.  They have to match him as a team, they have to be able to work with him (and he knows he’s not always the easiest to work with) and have his back.  He likes passion, he likes dramatics, he likes the kind of strange ones that other people find a bit hard to get along with, but he couldn’t love them any different from themselves.

(48) How do they express love:

PADMÉ

(4) What would they do if they needed to make dinner but the kitchen was busy:  Assuming the people in the kitchen were not making food, Padmé would fix them with a firm Senatorial Scolding Face and ask them politely if they could move it somewhere else.  She can easily outargue any protests;  the kitchen is for cooking and she needs to make dinner!  If ppl were making food in the kitchen, Pads would roll up her sleeves and ask what she could do to help so it would be done faster and she could get started.  She grew up with her mother insisting her and Sola help out with all the household chores, kitchen duty included, so she’s a fine cook.  Anakin learned to cook from his mother too, so sometimes their husband/wife bonding time will include just making dinner together and enjoying each others’ company.  In an OT4 situation with Obes and Satine, Obi Wan is the only one out of the four of them who Cannot Cook and is legit banished from the kitchen except for making drinks/certain desserts, so it ends up with Anakin, Padmé, and Satine all talking and laughing while preparing food while Obi Wan pouts sits in the doorway and talks from there

(6) Eating habits and sample daily menu:  Ok, so you know how I said Satine can sometimes get distracted by work and skip breakfast?  Well Padmé is like that but worse.  She gets so busy with duties, she just forgets to eat for very long periods of time, and then she’ll be doing something and be like “woah, I’m hungry, I don’t think I’ve eaten today,” and Sabé/Anakin/Bail/whoever she’s with will just be like padmé nO.  When she does eat, however, she is one of those crazy people who Does Not Like Sweets.  Like, at all, they just don’t agree with her.  Anakin is scandalized.  Satine is scandalized.  Everyone is.  She just doesn’t like them.  She’ll eat fruit, but that’s as sweet as it gets.  So when she does remember to eat, or if she’s going out for a dinner, it’s usually something pretty healthy-- though Pads will confess to a weakness for nice cheeses.  There’s also this one really greasy bad fried chip thing that she’s got a secret weakness for.  Padmé’s also not a huge alcohol person; like, she’ll drink when others do, she’s not a lightweight or anything, but she won’t seek it out herself, just, something about the taste, and she doesn’t like not being in control of her head.

(7) Fave way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time: Honey, Padmé is from Naboo.  The luxury planet.  They know how to lazily waste time in style.  She loves long baths and listening to classical music, walking in nature (she loves flowers), practicing new hair styles, facials and manicures.  She also reads the gossip columns (no she doesn’t, you never heard that) because she needs the tea.  She just do.  She likes to read and study new languages (because she is Queen Overachiever) or just add to her bucket list of Ways To Improve The Galaxy.  Padmé totally has a Space Pinterest.  In reality, she trained herself from a young age how to relax so being a teenager in planetary politics didn’t literally kill her.  

(12) Favorite book genre: ROMANCE!  It’s canon that Pads is just such an ushy, gushy romantic of a person, so she likes stuff like Space Jane Austen and all the other romantic books.  She refuses to associate with Anakin’s trashy dollar romances, she thinks they’re bad writing.  He does not agree.  He also called one of her faves boring once.  They do not discuss books.  But also Padmé likes political history and civilization books cuz politician, and she’s pretty into the mysteries like Obi Wan is.  She likes religious texts too, learning about different ones, she finds it interesting.  Reading can be hard for her because I h/c her as dyslexic, but she loves it too much.

(18) Favorite beverage: Spiced cider.  She could get it homemade back on Naboo; cool and refreshing when iced but warm and tangy and perfect when heated.

(19) What do they think about before falling asleep at night: If Anakin’s not with her, she always thinks about him not being there.  She can’t help it.  If he is with her, she thinks about how much she loves him.  She also tends to do a mental to do list every night of what she needed to do before bed and if she’s gonna allow herself to sleep now or not.  She also has another mental to do list so she knows what she’s gonna do when she wakes up in the morning.  With the damned war dragging on, more and more nights are spent going to bed troubled and worried for the future. She also daydreams, though, of what she can do after.  Her happily ever after.

(28) Who is their best friend?  Their worst enemy?:  This is hard because Pads is so friendly with everyone!!!  Queen’s Shadow really made me fall in love with Padmé and Sabé, but I’ll always be a sucker for the canon and fanon where Padmé’s best friend is Bail Organa.  I’m sorry, but Bail is just a cinnamon roll of a human being, and he’s such a calm, levelheaded friend for Pads where she can be a bit overeager and chomping at the bit sometimes, but he’s also ALWAYS got her back and she can talk to him about stuff and ahhhhh and he literally raises her daughter as his own and gahhhhhh.  Is it messed up if I almost want to say Padmé’s worst enemy is Anakin?  I mean to be more general: her worst enemy is the Sith, as they destroyed the Republic and her entire life’s work and corrupted her husband and depending on if you believe the “draining life forces” theory (which I do) they killed her.  But Anakin was the one who got past her defences, took her by surprise, and unknowingly ended up playing the most active role in her destruction, which is immensely tragic for both of them because all he ever wanted to do was love her (*crying*).

(33) Concept of home and family:  For Padmé, home isn’t so much a place, but an idea of where you can feel closest and most at one with those you’ve decided to share your life with.  Yeah, she’ll always love Naboo, but you saw how choked up she got in that TCW episode where Anakin called her Coruscant apartment “home”; for her, home is a state of mind.  Family is a bit different; she’ll always have a bit of an idealization towards her own parents’ marriage and how she’s seen Sola’s, and how families developed from that.  Canon shows she’s envious because she can’t have that, the 2.5 kids and a dog with a white picket fence outside and a large backyard mentality.  She has issues over being separated from family; she had to drop the Naberrie name to go into politics, so I’m guessing there’s some distance felt there, and she can’t even publicly acknowledge her own husband as her husband, so she’ll cling to the idea of a “perfect” family as a someday, as a maybe, and working towards that someday and the long goal she can forget just how complicated and messy her real family-- her parents and sister, her husband, her husband’s new adoptive sister, her husband’s boyfriend, his weird side of the family --is.  It’s even more pronounced when everything is falling apart in Revenge of the Sith and it’s obviously falling apart and Anakin is obviously Not Fine, she tries to retreat and take her comfort in “oh but when the baby comes and we can be a Family, things will all work out perfect!  It’ll be okay!!!”

(34) Thoughts on privacy (are they a private person, or are they prone to TMI):  Padmé is an extremely private person.  She’s been in the public spotlight since she was thirteen years old.  Everyone’s always staring at her, what she’s wearing, what her opinions are, how she acts, who she’s with.  Padmé has nearly nothing she doesn’t have to share with the public eye, so what she does have to herself she tends to hoard and not show anyone except for those she implicitly trusts.  Now, whether she’s any good at keeping secrets is a whole other story, but she certainly tries!!! xD

(39) What recharges them when they’re feeling drained: Anakin can make things better or worse for her depending on the mood he’s in and the mood she’s in, but he usually makes her feel better just by showing up and being a dork.  She likes her greasy chip snacks and a good book, but she’s a sucker for a good spa day complete with fluffy, comfortable clothing.  Also, Padmé loves cat naps, and is the queen of setting an alarm and taking short power naps that actually have her waking up refreshed.

(42) Hobbies:  Is creating new outfit designs via Space Pinterest a hobby?  Because Padmé does that.  Padmé is also the type of person to have a Space Candy Crush problem, and I completely believe that Satine got her into Space Mario Kart (Satine’s actually pretty good at it and Pads isn’t good at it at all, so it’s in no way fair, but they have fun xD).  Padmé loves creating flower arrangements too, just creating beautiful things makes her happy.  She loves calling one of her handmaidens over and having martial arts practices because she needs to stay ready to defend herself, but also it’s just fun and she’s a good fighter.  Padmé’s also into scrapbooking, she makes a bunch of adorable books she puts together, and she gave one to Anakin on their first anniversary and he cried (she hides them, don’t worry).  

AHHHNAKIN...

(10) Neuroses:  Hooo boy, there’s a lot!  Okay, so Anakin is a very handsy person.  When he’s nervous or uncomfortable or stressed, he’ll always need something to do with his hands, whether that be fiddling with his clothes, tugging at his hair, messing with the digits on his mechanohand, poking at the wall patterns or other objects.  In general, he hates sitting still and has a tendency to fidget if he has to for too long.  He will also either stare you directly in the eye or dislike making eye contact at all, depending on his mood.  Fiddling with machine parts gives him something to focus his mind and his hands on, so that’s a real big help for him if they’re available, often times he just keeps scraps in his pockets for specifically this purpose.  He’s sort of aware he does this, but he doesn’t like to think about it much because that would mean thinking why, and if you try and point any of them out to him he’ll get embarrassed and probs just snap at you.

(12) Favorite book genre:  Anakin really isn’t much of a book person.  It has to do with his focus issues (I h/c him as ADHD), they just aren’t really able to draw him in enough to keep his attention.  It frustrates him because that’s another reason why ppl imply he isn’t smart, which is dumb, he can read just fine, he just doesn’t like to.  He does like the trashy penny romances I mentioned before.  What can he say?  He’s a sucker for the drama and swooning and Epic Proclamations of Love.  He’ll read books about the latest ships and speeder models too, because he’s interested in that.  He’ll also read tactical strategy books too, because of the war and all.  It’s just not his go-to form of entertainment.

(14) Physical abnormalities (including injuries/disabilities, illnesses, allergies):  Metal hand.  Eye scar.  At one point is one big giant asthmatic burn scar who’s like 80% robot.  But we’ll focus on Anakin as of now.  When he was a child, some brute in the market cracked him hard across the back with something heavy.  It damaged his spine, and Shmi was terrified for a while he’d never walk.  Thankfully, he recovered, but now his spine is funny as in it is super flexible.  Like backbends where it looks like he’s snapped in half, that flexible.  It gives him fantastic advantages in acrobatics and combat, but it also means he can do that creepy walk the girl from The Ring can do.  He has managed to successfully scare the living piss out of Obi Wan, Padmé, Ahsoka, Rex, and multiple others on different occasions by emerging from the shadows in the middle of the night doing the Ring walk.  No one was pleased.  Yoda thinks it’s hilarious though.  Anakin gets hit in the face just as much Obi Wan does, so he also only has like less than half of his real teeth still in his mouth.  Is also covered in various scars from people trying to kill him dead.  In total, I project many mental illnesses onto him, so I say he has anxiety, ADHD, BPD, and PTSD.  His super strongness in the Force means he is a complete lightweight, so alcohol is an uh oh for him; the only positive is that he never gets hangovers.  It also means that Force sensitive objects may suddenly go flying at his head when he’s just trying to casually stroll through a creepy old temple.  I also h/c that Anakin is allergic to tookas/lothcats.  No other animals, just them.  And it’s hilarious when on one occasion some kittens made their way into a briefing room and he just bursts into a sneezing fit, which, why are you all laughing at me? and then Rex points out the little kitten just perched on the top of his head.  Poor baby actually does chafe pretty badly from sand too, so his hatred isn’t completely unwarranted.

(18) Favorite beverage: Coffee with a gazillion lumps of sugar in it, protein powder because he’s all about the grind, a hint of space chili pepper, and like a dozen other ingredients that should Not Go In Coffee (one of the ingredients Is Bugs).  Obi Wan claims he tasted the concoction once and had hallucinations.  Ahsoka says she saw a drop melt the edge of the tabletop.  Padmé won’t go anywhere near it.  Anakin says they’re all cowards; it’s the only thing that can get him up and focused in the morning.

(20) Childhood illnesses?  Any interesting stories behind them?: I h/c that amongst the slaves, Shmi was the local medicine woman.  Therefore, Anakin as a child was constantly getting first exposure to all the local sicknesses and building up immunity, so besides one bout of food poisoning, he never got sick as a kid.  Once he got to the Temple... well, he was past the age where all the other kids had gotten vaccinations, Obi Wan, bless him, hates dealing with medical and was distracted by everything else and kind of forgot to make sure Anakin was up to date with everything, so he caught EVERYTHING.  EVERY LITTLE THING WOULD MAKE HIM SICK.  HE HATED IT.  OBI WAN HATED IT BECAUSE THE ONLY SICK PATIENT WORSE THAN ANAKIN IS HIMSELF.  IT NEVER ENDS.  ANAKIN IS TWENTY TWO YEARS OLD AND STILL CATCHING SHIT LIKE THE SPACE CHICKEN POX.  THIS ISN’T FAIR.

(22) Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?: Lots of writings of stuff like “Padmé Skywalker” or “Anakin Kenobi” cuz Ani is at heart a 12 year old girl.  Ok ok ok, but actually, there would be lots of different stuff on the page.  Mathematical calculations for ships and designs because he is a canon engineering nerd and I h/c he’s a whiz at math.  Also little doodles.  Anakin’s not a bad artist himself; his style is much more cartoonish than Obi Wan’s, but it means he can do cool little actions scenes of different ships or pods, him being a badass, Yoda getting attacked by space seagulls, etc.  Maybe designs for another japoor carving (I h/c he keeps the hobby).  Or, the page might be folded up as Anakin turned it into either a boat or a hat or an airplane that actually flies, or just a ball of paper he set on fire because he was bored.

(28) Who is their best friend?  Their worst enemy?:  OBI WAN KENOBI FOR BOTH OF THEM DAMMIT ANAKIN WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS.  Alright, alright, in reality, his worst enemy is probably more of a combination of himself and his own fears, Sidious for being an evil, manipulative asshole, and society for creating his fears and traumatizing him (though mostly it’s himself because he absolutely had the choice to do the right thing, but he didn’t).  Obi Wan is absolutely his best friend though.  No competition.

(29) Reaction to extrapersonal disaster (eg Oh no, the house is on fire!  What do we do?): For Anakin “I burned down the Republic because you left for an afternoon and I panicked” Skywalker?  “Ok, no problem, I got this.  I’ve got this.  No, wait, I don’t got this.  I defiNITELY DO NOT GOT THIS, I MADE IT WORSE, HOLY SHIT, NO ONE PANIC, I NEED AN ADULT-- (Ahsoka: You are an adult) --I NEED AN ADULTIER ADULT.”

(31) Most prized possession: His loved ones ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  And we’ve got at least six movies and a tv show telling us exactly how that did Not Go Well For Anyone

(33) Concept of home and family: Hmmm.  I’d say where he feels safe and comfortable.  Again, it’s stated in the show he feels at home at Padmé’s, but honestly?  He refuses to acknowledge Tatooine cuz ya know, the slavery, so he never really had a strong childhood home, and while I want to say he considered the Temple home at one point, , I’m not sure he does because I feel he’s always on red alert for things to get worse so he never really lets himself get comfortable anywhere-- not even Padmé’s.  Family is a bit easier for him; a group of people who love each other-- and for Anakin, it doesn’t have to be blood relations but if you ARE related by blood, you’re a family member by default and he will be Very Offended by blood relations who cut away from their families because he feels if you’re connected like that, you should love each other.

[orangeflavoryawp]

Writing tips? ANY writing tips. Please. I'm literally begging you to bring me out of my hiatus

Alright, anon, I sat on this ask for a bit because I’ll be honest, I wasn’t sure you were going to like what I had to say.  But here goes.

First of all, thank you for the faith in me, and for valuing my input.  I don’t consider myself an authority on writing at all.  But I’ve been doing it for as long as I could read, and it’s an important part of my life.  So I’ll share what I’ve gleaned over the years.

And here’s the part you’re not gonna like:

Just write.  

Write a sentence, or a scene, or a line, or an idea.  Write two hundred words, or five thousand.  Write on your lunch break, or just when you wake up, or after that third glass of wine after work.  Write when it feels like pulling teeth, and write when you absolute cannot go another second without it.  But just, write.  That’s the only way I’ve ever gotten over a slump.

I’ve had burnout, for sure, and I had to take a break here and there, but I was still always pursing some creative endeavor if it wasn’t writing, and even then, I didn’t go long before I was back to the page.  Because if you sit on it long enough, it becomes even more daunting a task.  Just to pick it up and start anew.  Think of it like exercising.  So many of us hate it, but we get better at keeping it routine once we actually start it.  And that’s what you gotta do with writing.  Just get your ass in the seat and start it.

Does that mean you have to write that WIP you’ve been neglecting for a year?  No.  It can be anything.  It can be an OC you’ve never written for before.  It can be a conversation you’ll never be able to forget.  Hell, it can be a retelling of your day.  But it’s gotta be something.  It’s gotta be words to the page, somehow.  Even if all you’re writing is ‘I’m trying.  This sucks, but I’m trying.  Fuck you, blank page.  Don’t give me that face.’

Figure out the environment that works best for you.  Is it at night, or during the day?  Music or no?  Tea?  Alcohol?  A cat curled up beside you?  Your dog at your feet?  Outside on the porch?  Huddled under blankets in your bed?  Your partner in the room?  At a busy coffee shop?  Or your favorite sushi bar?  In PJs?  With bare feet?  In your twenty year old college sweatshirt?  With the lights dimmed down?  For short, twenty minute sprints?  For hours and hours?  

Figure that shit out.  Get comfy.  Be where is best for you.  Make sure that space doesn’t get intruded on.  And then sit down and hold yourself accountable.  Don’t restrict yourself simply to what you should write.  Write what you want to write.  And in the worst case scenario, write simply what you can write.

Even if it’s just an answer to a tumblr ask.

But in the end, it’s just that - you gotta write.

If you have any particular questions - tone, dialogue, getting in a character’s head, smut, word choice, editing techniques, analogies, discerning the important from the unnecessary in your scenes, prose versus poetry, fight scenes, grammar and structure, narrative sculpting, mannerisms, anything really - please, just pop that question on into my askbox and I will do my best to help you with what I know.

I know this probably isn’t what you want to hear to get out of a hiatus, but it’s the best I got.  I struggle to live by it myself - every day.  But writing’s in my bones at this point.  I’m going to be ninety and toothless and still writing, simple as that, but believe me when I tell you that it’ll still be an uphill battle sometimes, even then.  Because anyone that tells you passions should be easy, is a liar.

It’s okay.for it to be hard.  Forgive yourself.  Understand that loving something sometimes means struggling with it.  Keep loving it anyway.

Now get your ass in that seat and write.

[skrrt-skrrt-cp]

how to know a pasta enjoys your company/likes you (platonic or crush works!)?

I’ll do crush, just for the fluff since people really like to see these killers as lovable sometimes! I don’t blame ‘em tbh

(Also holy hhhhhecc I went to a different app and tumblr decided to get rid of my writing when I had three pastas done smh)

——————

Slenderman- slendy would totally be more open to you than the other pastas. He’d share his issues, and encourage you to share your own with him. He’d most definitely enjoy your company around the woods, or mansion, and would make sure you’re always comfortable in his presence.

Zalgo- this is a Yikes. He would try his best not to get so angry at you, and would give you small little pet names such as ‘princess’ or ‘darling’. Zalgo would also change his physical appearance in front of you, because he would honestly get a bit self conscious being around you in his normal demon form, yet, he might slowly learn that your accepting of his appearance no matter what and would actually get mad at you for being so friendly towards him.

Jeff- he wouldn’t be as harsh and rude to you..maybe. He might tone it down a bit, Jeff’s just a lovable asshole. He’d use to vent and strongly encourge you to wear his hoodie, even if you aren’t cold (Jesus Christ man), mainly because he’d like how it looks on you. Jeff would also go out of his way to threaten and/or hurt anyone who messes with you.

Jane- Jane would feel more comfortable around you and show you her true appearance without her mask or black wig, as she trusts you’ll still be kind and supportive. Finding out you are alright with her true appearance, whenever you and Jane have your private little hangout times she’ll show her true self to you, maybe even explain her past to you about Jeff.

Nina- when you first started out as friends she would not. shut. up. about. Jeff. Yeah she’s that type of person, yet you tolerated that and got use to her fantasizing. After a while of you two knowing each other, and Nina developing feelings towards you, she’d probably get more quiet around you, and a bit more awkward in your presence as she’s nervous around you. Jeff is already annoyed by her, so she doesn’t want to mess up with you.

Dr. Smiley- he’d go out of his way to make sure you’re always in good health, mentally and physically, and would always scold you if you injured yourself. As his lover interesting, his main goal is to make sure you’re always safe and out of harms way, as well as him regularly sharing details about his most recent ‘operations’ as he believes you’ll be comfortable with it. Let’s hope you’re ready to hear every detail.

Bloody Painter- if you even managed to get Helen to trust you in the first place you get a cookie, he’s always so closed off. His main signs will be preferring to be around you a lot, brushing his hand against yours, asking to draw you, getting a bit flustered whenever you laugh or smile, and just staring at you (not in the creepy way). He may even crack a smile near you and would probably share about his childhood.

Kagekao- honestly this guy is so open he’ll straight up drop the most obvious signs. He’ll flirt with you, play with your hair, be really touchy..you get the gist. He’s very affectionate with you after developing his crush, hell he might even following you around a bit and if you ever manage to spot him he always manages to find an excuse. Not saying it’s a good one, but it’s an excuse.

Zero- panda child? This’ll be fun. Zero, like Kagekao, will be a bit open with her feelings, but not as obvious like the wine demon. She would probably do small little things like hold your hand, ask you how your day was, and if you’re ever sad she will go out her way to hold you close and comfort you the best she can. She is a bit good with emotions, as she remembered how sad Alice would get, so she has some experience with that and would cheer you up.

Nathan- he would try his best to act sane in front of you, maybe even block out his sister’s homicidal thoughts whenever you two are around each other. Nathan would give you small gifts such as necklaces or bracelets, and, like Helen, get a bit of a red face whenever he sees your shining smile. After what happened to his sister, seeing how close they were, he would do his best to keep you out of harm and make sure you’re always safe by sending you texts about how you’re doing. If you don’t answer in about- probably five minutes- he’ll start getting worried and try to call you.

Clockwork- she’d try to deny her feelings at first, seeing as her last relationship went with her boyfriend. After finally accepting she had romantic feelings towards you, her main question to you would always be ‘you like my drawings, right? You don’t find them creepy??’ Clock would also offer to draw you some pictures that aren’t always so gore filled if you don’t like that. Your comfort and thoughts are most important to her.

Pup- poetry, songs, he’s probably the most romantic out of them all. He would always like being around you, and from his past relationship with Emra, he’d always ask you if you’ll leave him. You aren’t dating, correct, but the paranoia still gets to him that he might lose the love of his life again. He’d always second guess his word choice to you to you and keep in mind what would make you uncomfortable.

EJ- Jack would try to drop his cannabalistic acts in front of you and would always keep your comfort in his mind. He might be a bit touchy, like holding your hand, playing with your hair, or just wrapping his arms around you and simply play it off as ‘he’s just cold’. Honestly he doesn’t get cold, at all, but it’s a good excuse to hold you in his arms. He might even unmask himself in your presence as he’s confident you won’t judge his appearance.

Judge Angels- She was already sweet with you when you first started being friends, but as she developed feelings, her actions changed. Dina would often fiddle with her hands, space out a bit, and awkwardly laugh at any questions you have about her behavior. As time goes on she may get a bit more comfortable about your presence and may even give you hugs at random times and just brush it off as she needed a hug.

Jason- being as creative as he is, Jason would probably make small little toys or stuffed animals for you, and would ask for your assistance. He would try to get more used to your hobbies, and might even try them just so he can get to know you even more than he already does. As his hair is long, he might even let you play with it as you please, it’s honestly soothing to him whenever he needs to relax.

Ben: if you’re playing video games with him, he just might let you win on purpose because he loves how excited you get when you beat him, buuuut he would also be willing to kick your ass since your pouty face is also down right adorable. He’d also do the cheesiest thing ever like moving his bed in Minecraft next to yours and probably do some hacks to get your Minecraft dog back from the dead. Smh we gotta love him 😔👊

The Rake- Rake would spend as much time with you as possible whenever you enter the woods. It’s like he can sense you. Whenever you set foot in the forest he always comes running over to you and just sits their, enjoying your company in silence as he doesn’t much prefer to talk. He might get a slight bit physical by resting his head on your arm or shoulder and will just listen to you speak, he may even fall asleep by hearing your soothing voice.

Toby- tobers would constantly be by your side and chatting with you, as he loves to hear your talk and see you light up with excitement whenever you discuss a topic of interest with him. He would try his best to control his tics and stutters, though it wouldn’t work and he’d clearly get frustrated, and embarrassed whenever he would stutter or twitch in front of you. His favorite thing to do with you as you are the love of his life would be to take strolls through parks or in the forest, as walks are always a nice way for him to clear his head and he loves the comfortable silence between you and him.

Rouge- she’d be very reluctant with her first feelings towards you, as her last relationship with her fiancé ended up with him dying. She doesn’t want her significant other leaving her like that again, so she may avoid you for some time. After finally getting some guts and accepting her feelings, she might give it a go with being around you would drop a few hints such as asking you if you want to star gaze, if there’s anything hurting or bothering you, and she’d even offer up her jacket to you if you get cold.

Kate- with how kate is, she’d deny every bit of love she feels. She may even act a bit rude towards you at first. After a week or so, she’d realize her mistakes and get really clingy with you and would just repeatedly apologize by just saying sorry, or she may get you a few gifts. It won’t take her long to finally confess her feelings to you though, as she hates just being near your presence, unable to hold you and have you not question it. (She tried it once and was awkward about making an excuse. It was a terrible one.)

Marble Hornets

Right off the bat, all four of them would avoid you because they don’t want you to get exposed to slender or get tangled in the mess.

Brian- Yes he’d be pushing you away a bit, but that wouldn’t stop him from expressing how he feels. He might send you cute little text messages or call you to check up on you. Rarely, he will stop by and visit, take you out for dinner, and maybe drop a few flirts. It’s hard for him though, as your safety is everything.

Tim- he wouldn’t spend his entire time avoiding you, though he would take caution with you. Like Brian, you’re important to him. Tim and you would probably go out for drives every so often, just to relax and escape reality for a bit, and to chat. He might even bring his ukulele along so he can play some music if you both decide to share no words at all. He might even try to teach you a bit and if you struggle, he’d just find it adorable at how hard you’re trying to learn.

Jay- he’d be the most distant of them all. And after several texts and phone calls to him, trying to find out what was wrong, he eventually just opened up about everything in his life, which he’s glad you‘re supportive and try to help. He might spend the night with you once he finally decides to make contact with you (for cuddles, or so he feels a bit more safer), he’ll go for walks around the park, and might get a bit nervous near you as he’s scared he’ll screw up with some speech or something. He might even let you wear his hat, or jacket if you ask. He’d honestly have a difficult time saying no to you. As your happiness gives him hope in the world.

Alex- he’d have more patiences with you, and might actually be more comfortable with having you close to him after a few days of completely avoiding you. Alex would show you how his camera works, and might even let you record somethings on it. He’d often give you small compliments like how amazing you are, and how sweet you act towards him, and will also get defensive to people if they give you weird looks and such.

[poetic-beats]

You'll be ok. If you feel your not, You can talk to me. Take care of yourself.

Thank you so much <3  I am just overwhelmed by everything right now.  Like my partner having no job by January. My mental health. My physical health like this year so far I’ve been told I have CNS dysfunction and FGID. I am being tested for Celiac. Oh and they found cysts on my ovaries then they tested and said it wasn’t what it could’ve been and now because of issues I’ve had my female GP who handles my contraception which is due up in January wants me to have another uhh thing to check the cysts and have another blood test because turns out I could actually have it..and it could affect my chances to have children naturally - I know what it was like for my mum she has the same condition and so if i have it I’m scared even though things are different now they know more and have better options its still like D: It is like seriously though I’ve got two new things wrong with me although they havent yet like found the cause of the CNS dysfunction all the specialist could say is I hit some markers for Fibromyalgia but not enough but in her medical professional opinion I do have some form of CNS dysfunction but just not likely fibromyalgia my mum took me to see this specialist first purely because she has Fibro herself so she thought well lets start with an appointment with a rheumatologist who would like be able to check for fibro and a few other condtions. So I kinda need to like now see I think the next step is a neuropsychologist but like I’ve been so stressed and ill right now trying to fight for my mental health treatment/therapy so I’ve not been like exactly thinking about making appointments for the CNS stuff. But it is impacting me it makes me get involuntary like twitches/jerks it feels like a jolt like a little electric jolt i guess down my body but not painful as such but it just makes my body go like suddenly my arms jerked to the left or Ive thrown the food in my hand across the room because my arm/wrist/hand w/e has suddenly twitched or w/e but sometimes i get the like electric like w/e feeling its hard to explain it like across my whole body from my head to my toes and at that point it can lead to me just sort of on and off twitching a bit more like less aggressively but more often in a space of time i usually end up sleeping it off so idk really I pretty much just always pass out asleep when I get that kind of feeling. And like I wanna do stuff to like help ease his worries about money and the burden on him to support us financially and support me emotionally. But I’m not fit to work like not even a minor part time job really because I’d be so unreliable with the way my body is. I am also affected by sensory issues and other things so it’s just not I couldnt realistically right now engage in work for someone.  So I am trying to do like online things but I don’t...I...just I am getting kinda overwhelmed by that too. Cos I dont know where to start what to do. Like I do but I dont you know? I mean...idk...Ive sold 3 pairs of sloth socks which was cool in the past like 2 weeks or is it 3 now since like i started like really seriously uploading to redbubble like before that I kept like uploading then removing my designs trying out different sites and so on I was trying to figure it out but I do now have it kinda figured out so that’s something. But now its like I’ve gotta get people to my freakin’ redbubble and its hard cos how an earth do i drive people to check out my store from the millions of others on the site. But also like I dont wanna like.. Idk I feel like and even though I have explained my situation on here I still kinda feel like I try to do it in a like not serious asking for help way in that i dont want it to come off as idk like I dont wanna be that person where its like i dont wanna be coming off as oh please help me feel sympathy towards me and feel sorry for me or pity me bs. I dont wanna be like appearing to be all I’m in desperate need pls help signal boost or buy to support me. Cos I’m not you know I have my parents to help we’ll be moving back in hopefully before xmas where I won’t have to pay rent. For me this is more about you know when my parents aren’t there I need to have an income for me and my partner hes disabled too...so full time jobs for the both of us is not likely especially if his EDS (edlher danlos syndrome) gets worse ya know?  So I suppose my worries arent like of imminent threat of anything but more like in the future we’ll be fucked if i cant set down the foundations now for the potential for a long term income from various online strategies. But just even thinking about the future and that far ahead fucking terrifies me.  Not only because of all this but because I never really thought about the future I didnt see one for myself as far as I was concerned I’d be dead or I’d be just...idk I couldnt even imagine a future or if I thought I’d make it I wouldnt really care you know because I didnt have like that light in me to want to live so it wasnt like I wanted to survive and thrive and i couldnt see a ‘happy ending’ for myself and now i can and I want to make that come true but of course its a bit hard to envisage a nice happy future with Kade when literally everything depends on having money to eat and have a roof over our heads etc and its just..UGH

I feel like trash too because I feel like my worth is valued by my output/labour and at the moment my output isn’t really bringing in cash right now so my output wouldnt exactly be deemed as ‘good’ idk its just weird its not like an I feel worthless thing like depression low self esteeem shit its more just a sort of social cultural consensus/belief that is ingrained that we are not really worth anything unless we’re contributing to society i.e working , paying taxes and buying things to reinvest in our economy etc etc..everything is about how much a human is worth in value of £ssss to big corporations and governments and rich people and idk its just like...they do have a point you know i cant just sit around and not do anything to contribute..because..then i feel like you know im not ‘sick enough’ to warrant that so im just in this limbo i guess completely self enforced by my mind which just makes it all the stupider but it is what it is. Venting this out has helped clear my mind some cos i mean at least its now out there in this void than just bouncing around my brain. Its why i write poetry too I guess idk why I just feel a release less tension SOMETIMES not all the time but sometimes it can help ease even if only slightly the chaos of my mind to just get it out there whether by chatting in person or writing it out like this just having it out there venting to someone or on a blog where people will read knowing like its not isolated within you still its relieving sometimes. So thanks for messaging me!  I hope you are having a good day so far! Idk timezones or where u r so it could be early there for you maybe your day is just starting..who knows! Its 2:37pm where I am right now though so I need to work  or try to...(yet again me feeling if i dont work constantly I be like failing at life) lol