#but jfc i was not expecting what we got

[haughttopics]

i've been down bad for kathryn hahn and aubrey plaza for years. when i tell you i did not survive agatha all along 😩

[genericpuff]

hate to be cynical on main but it really do be like this every single time a new "not like social media" art platform comes out of the woodwork and then people migrate to it in droves just to find out the only other people using it are other artists that they're competing with for any scrape of viewership from an increasingly oversaturated internet that didn't exist when we were teenagers in 2009

[badolmen]

I can fix him*

*bad writing, underutilized gameplay mechanics, characters with unfulfilled potential, funded by bootlickers

[swan-orpheus]

THAT"S HOW IT ENDS?? OMFG. THE MUSIC. I HAVE CHILLS.

[lesbiansanemi]

And when I thought things were finally fine and had calmed down my roommate starts sending me shelters because he wants me to get rid of my cat 🙃🙃🙃

[charmac]

X

[hp-hcs]

Reader (male preferably) x T.N and M.R

Where reader gets into fights a lot. Like a lot. Almost double the amount that Theo and Matt get in combined in just a week. The only reason Dumbledore lets him stay at Hogwarts is because he’s top of every class. What bugs a lot of his peers is the fact that he doesn’t try. He doesn’t study, he just gets it straight up, he barely shows up to class, he fights everyone and anything that speaks bad about the slytherin house, and he’s got the face every guys jealous of. Reader is just made to make people mad, is how he’d be described. But he’s not aggressive. He doesn’t lose his temper easy, it’s just when his house or Theo and Matt are mentioned that he loses it. It’s like a trigger going off in his brain, to protect what’s his. And Merlin does that turn them on.

NSFW (optional)

Reader loves to mark them as his. To have everyone be able to see the dark hickeys or slowly healing bite marks. To display a type of claim over the two. They’re his. And he knows exactly how to make them feel good. Make them writhe for him. Degrading Mattheo while edging Theodore, wrapping his bloodied hands around their throats while he pushes them up against the wall. Fuck and when he’s all beaten up after a fight? They can’t fucking resist him.

• smut • bloody knuckles — poly! sub! sweetie pie! theodore nott x poly! sub! brat! mattheo riddle x gn! poly! dom! reader

❕no pronouns or gender/assigned sex markers of any kind!❕

warnings: SMUT MDNI, BLOOD KINK JFC IS THERE A GODDAMN BLOOD KINK IN HERE, same with degradation holy fuck, pain(?) kink, violence, mild descriptions of gore/wounds, usage of the word ‘blood’ or ‘bloody’ approximately 12000000 times, THE BOYS ARE ROMANTICALLY & SEXUALLY INVOLVED WITH EACH OTHER, some pretty aggressive dom/sub roles for ya silly little deviants

i don’t know why i gave the boys pure opposite personalities. the dichotomy of man, i guess.

this is quite easily the filthiest fucking thing i’ve ever written, and i was too embarrassed to let my allosexual boyfie edit/help with this one so it’s real bad 😬 enjoy your asexual-written smut? ig? i did my best, anon, i’m so sorry

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Seamus Finnegan was not expecting to start off his Monday morning with a broken nose.

To be fair though, it was kind of his fault. I mean, six years of school together and the boy still decided to run his mouth without a single care in the world.

“Heard Riddle’s a slut. That true?”

Your head snapped up and a furious look crossed your face. “What?”

“Hot though,” Seamus shrugged. “‘s why y’keep ‘im ‘round, yeah?”

Your hands clenched into fists down by your sides.

“He a good fuck, at least?” Seamus asked carelessly, seemingly unaware of your brewing anger. “I bet ‘e is. Think ‘e’d put out?”

Before anyone could even blink, you had Finnegan down on the ground. His face quickly became the victim of your furious fists.

He tried to shove you off, but you just smacked his hands away and got a solid hit to the center of his face, punctuated by the sound of snapping cartilage.

Blood rushed in your ears and the crowds fell away as you focused solely on Make him pay. Make him pay. Make him pay.

You were abruptly brought out of your bloodthirsty rage by a pair of arms wrapping themselves around your torso and yanking you off of Seamus.

You spun around in anger, the question of who the fuck-? dying on your lips when you saw the concerned face of Theodore Nott, and the bright red face of Mattheo Riddle.

~~~

“Darling-”

“Shut up, it’s my love language,” you pouted.

Theo rolled his eyes fondly, leading you by your shoulders into their dorm’s bathroom. “You know we can handle ourselves, love. You’ve met both of our fathers; we’ve had much worse than some Irish pipsqueak theorizing about our sex lives.”

“Well, I thought it was hot.” Mattheo interrupted with a cheeky grin. “Our badass lover who’s willing to throw down with a Gryffindor to protect our honor? Proof that chivalry isn’t dead.”

“Well, I just don’t want other people talking about you like that,” you scowled.

“We know, love,” Theo grinned, crouching down to dig the first aid kit out from under the sink, patting your thigh in a patronizingly reassuring gesture. “Now, lemme see how bad it is.”

You huffed in faux annoyance, holding out your bloody hands in front of you and lifting your chin so he could see the state of your face.

Theo sighed and began his millionth lecture of the day as he started dabbing antiseptic ointment on the few small scrapes scattered across your face.

Mattheo was unusually quiet, adding nothing to the playful bickering between you and Theo.

You glanced over at him, only to find that he was practically enraptured, staring at your hands. His eyes followed a single bead of blood’s meandering path down your knuckles and fingers, watching as it dripped off the tip of your index finger and splattered onto the tile floor.

You could’ve sworn you saw him lick his lips.

You traded a knowing look with Theo before speaking. “Whatcha looking at, Matty?”

His cheeks flushed red and his gaze snapped back up to your eyes. “Nothing!”

You took a step forward. He took a step back.

“Oh, really?”

He gulped.

You reached forward to rest a hand on his shoulder, gently pressing him up against the wall. “A blood kink, huh? Shit, you really are a slut, love.”

Mattheo looked down, cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

You gripped his chin and forced his head up to look at you. His eyes widened in surprise at the firmness of your grasp.

You pressed two blood-streaked fingers against his lips, groaning at the sight of his tongue instinctively darting out to kitten-lick them.

“Shit, Matty,” Theo whispered from behind you.

You trailed your fingers down his jaw and the side of his neck before loosely wrapping your hand around his throat.

He gasped and his eyes rolled back in his head. “Y-Y/n-”

“You like this? Hm?” You crooned as the blood on your hand smeared onto the skin of his neck.

Mattheo nodded frantically—as much as he could with the limited range of motion.

“That’s fucking disgusting, Riddle. What a filthy fucking boy.”

(He whimpered. He fucking loved it when you called him by his last name.)

You let go of his neck, stepping back and leaving him with a pleading whine caught in his throat as you turned to your other boyfriend.

“And Theodore, my pretty little angel,” you cooed softly, running your fingers through his hair and cupping his cheek. “How’s my little lovebug doing?”

He watched you with wide eyes, his tongue darting out to lick his chapped lips. “Y-Y/n…”

You ran your thumb over his cheekbone, smiling softly. “Answer my question, pretty boy.”

“I-I’m doing good, love,” Theo whispered, his voice cracking as you trailed your thumb down the side of his neck and swept it across his collarbone.

You abruptly pulled your hand away, spinning on your heel and leaving the en-suite without another word.

Your boys followed you into the dorm room like lost puppies, trailing after you with confused and needy expressions.

You sat down on one of the beds, lying back against the pillows with a relaxed and unbothered expression on your face. “Teddy, over here. Matty, go sit in the chair.” You waved your hand towards the desk chair, lazily motioning for Theodore to take off his shirt and join you on the bed.

Mattheo pouted and whined. “What? But- darlin’, I’ve been-”

“A greedy bitch,” you scoff as you yanked off Theo’s trousers and boxers in one swift motion, rolling him over onto his back. “Now sit down and wait your damn turn. Don’t you dare touch yourself. You’d better keep your hands where I can fucking see them.”

Without waiting for a reply, you turned back to your other lover. You ignored Mattheo’s protesting whines in favor of wrapping your fingers around Theo’s dick, appreciating the way Theo’s hips jerked up with a startled moan and his hands scrabbled for anything to hold onto as you did so.

“Riddle. I changed my mind. Get the fuck over here.” You snap, narrowing your eyes at the boy wiggling uncomfortably in his seat. “Hold Teddy’s hand.”

He jumped into action, quickly clambering onto the bed next to the pair of you and scooping up one of Theo’s hands in his.

You nodded, pleased at his cooperation, and slowly started jerking Theo off.

“Pretty, isn’t he, Matty?”

You expected him to say something in agreement, or tease Theo lightly, but your question was met with silence.

You glanced over, curious as to what caught his attention. Mattheo’s eyes were laser focused on Theo’s lower half. You followed his line of sight, confused as to what he was looking at, when you realized.

The blood from your busted knuckles had smeared itself all over Theo’s cock.

“Suck Teddy off.” The demand left your lips before you could even fully think it through.

Neither boy seemed disinterested in your proposition, if the way Mattheo all but scrambled down the bed as he leapt onto your boyfriend was any indication.

Mattheo kneeled between Theo’s thighs and pinned down his hips, practically drooling at the perverse sight in front of him.

Theo moaned brokenly as he felt Mattheo’s tongue lick a long stripe up his dick before taking him fully into his mouth. You hummed appreciatively at the gorgeous view in front of you, reaching out to stroke your hand along Theo’s hip and thigh.

The dorm was quickly filled with the sweet sounds of Theodore’s little moans and sighs, and the filthy wet sounds of Mattheo’s mouth.

He drew Theo closer and closer to his release. But right as your sweetest lover’s body began to shake, you caught sight of one of your brat’s hands subtly sneaking between his legs. You growled, tightening your grip in his hair to warn him to pull off.

As soon as Mattheo pulled off of Theo’s cock, panting for air, you harshly grabbed his jaw and yanked his head up to face you.

“Greedy fucking whore,” you sneered, “I told you not to touch yourself. Apologize to Theo for being such a self-centered brat.”

“S-sorry! So-sorry! I-I’m sorry, T-Theo!”

“Good boy,” you murmur, petting his hair and lightly scratching his scalp with your nails. “Good, love. Continue.”

Mattheo let out a shaky breath, still reeling from the whiplash of your sudden gentleness as he leaned back down to continue his earlier ministrations.

He quickly realized why you’d been so suddenly sweet when he felt your hand start roughly palming him through his trousers. He whined around Theo’s cock, which in turn made Theodore gasp and moan loudly.

You grinned at your boys’ reactions as you leaned down to murmur in Mattheo’s ear, “You can cum if you get Teddy off, alright sweetheart?”

Sparked with renewed interest at the incentive, Mattheo resumed sucking off Theo with vigor. Theo’s thighs shook as he babbled incoherently, a mix of “Fuck!”s, “Merlin-”s, and “Y/n!”s.

“Good boys, that’s it,” you cooed sweetly, brushing sweaty curls off of Theo’s forehead. “You’re just so close, aren’t you, my love?”

Theo sobbed pitifully and nodded. “Pl-please- Y/n- please!”

“Go ahead,” you whispered, stroking his cheek with your thumb.

With your permission, Theo fell apart with a loud moan, his entire body shaking and spasming. You continued palming Mattheo, intent on keeping good on your promise.

“Come whenever you’re ready, Riddle,” you murmured. He had pulled off of Theo by now, and stared up at you with wide, glazed-over eyes. You wiped a smear of cum from the corner of his lips with your thumb, grinning teasingly at the pair of them as you promptly stuck it in your mouth and swirled your tongue around the digit.

With one final moan, Mattheo’s body stiffened up and broke down into shudders as he was wracked with the force of his orgasm. His arms gave out and he collapsed onto the bed, tucking his face into the hollow where Theo’s thigh met his pelvis.

You gave both of your boys a minute to collect themselves, murmuring gentle praise as you littered their faces with soft kisses. “Both so good for me, my best boys. So perfect.”

You sat in a contented quiet for a few more minutes, just caressing them gently. But once their breathings had steadied out, they startled you by sharing a look and abruptly tugging you down and rolling over on top of you.

“Your turn now, love.”

[drenched-in-sunlight]

"Marika becomes the sum of all the Fromsoft girlies" is nice but you forgot Nashandra who actually has parallels with Marika! Recommending to check it out, she's cool!

let’s get this out of the way now… I love DS2, I think the vibe and gameplay is immaculate and I’ll defend it as a whimsical and enjoyable videogame experience till the end of time.

But my god, I hate how they handle female characters in that one 💀

In fact, I don’t like how they handle female characters in DS franchise in general. It got a bit better in Bloodborne and Sekiro and especially AC6, but overall ever since I started playing Fromsoft game in 2020, my main gripe with them is they only have 2 tropes to shoehorn their female character into: helpless victim of a system that would mangle and exploit them OR serious sword lady. And if I’m being real, it’s the main gripe I have with Elden Ring base game too?

I didn’t discuss it on tumblr because back then I were still trying to keep this blog art-focused, but when the game came out in 2022, I did express my concern on twitter that I found the female characters cast… strangely lacking. Because I went into the game expecting Ema-level of writing (literally Sekiro’s Ema is one of the best female characters Fromsoft has ever written to this day I could and have talked ppl’s ears off about her. And I’m glad she on her own is very different from Marika. That means they could at least write 2 more types of female characters now the bar is on the floor but I’ll take it and cherish what I have), but it felt like they got reset back to DS franchise with ER base game.

(This has an added layer of me being a girl born, raised and lived in a Sinosphere country that is entrenched in Confucius values just like Japan, so yes I do understand and experience firsthand the underlying culture values that shapes their writing. Hell, I live and study postgraduate in Japan for 2 years too).

But we are going off track, this is about DS2. Now, my problem with DS2 is, see, with 1 or 3, the female characters either have very little agency or no agency at all. And it just…. be like that. The male characters are somewhat the same, so it really doesn’t bother me that much. The cool, unique, not sexualized design is enough. But 2?

2 has a lot of female characters…. who either play no role in the world setting or sinister figures that charm men and bring ruins to kingdoms? What?

(Before anyone says “but Lucatiel—” Lucatiel is the beacon of light in that game, yes, but at the same time her purpose centering around her brother is… also a problem I have with the way they handle Malenia’s story. My Fromsoft experience has lore to it as well jfc)

Like, it’s just ??? to me half of those women have no agency or backstory whatsoever apart from being the Dark’s daughters that would bring doom everywhere they go??? You can say everything wrong in DS2 world is their fault and I actually wouldn’t have much to argue. Actually, it’s interesting you bring up Nashandra because I do think Nashandra has parallel in Elden Ring. But not to Marika.

Nanaya.

That’s who reminds me of Nashandra in Elden Ring. Literally the mysterious, lowkey nefarious lady and her old man husband with questionable dynamic DS2 trope 🧍‍♀️ you can actually see that in their name too.

If I have to pick a character in DS franchise specifically to make parallel to Marika, it’ll always be Gwynevere. Because I honestly think it’s amazing they took a character that has the least amount of agency they’ve ever created, and turned the core concept of her (warmth, healing spells, sunlight, mother, daughter, queen, faith) into another character with actual good writing.

That’s why I didn’t include Nashandra in my previous post. Not because I don’t know about her. It’s because I know.

[sapphic-agent]

Let's Talk About Bakugou's Apology

Jfc, I swear this wasn't meant to be an MHA blog but whatever. Let's get into this.

I wanted to give Bakugou stans the benefit of the doubt. I wanted to think that they would only hype something up if it was groundbreaking. I wanted to believe that Horikoshi was a halfway decent writer and would put actual effort into such a pivotal, revered moment in the series.

I was left sorely disappointed for multiple reasons.

1) A List of Excuses To be completely fair to Bakugou, he does take some accountability which was more than I expected. He does acknowledge that what he did was wrong a few times during his little speech. I have to give him credit for that. However, it's overshadowed by the narrative making sure to stress that it was the people around Bakugou who were at fault for that behavior. Which isn't true because even before he got his quirk, he still treated Izuku like garbage. He gave him the name Deku and acted like he was above everyone way before Izuku was deemed quirkless.

(I'd also like to add that the only thing that literal pre-school teacher said was that Bakugou's quirk could make for a fine hero. He was the one who ran with it and decided that it made him better than everyone and that he would be the best)

There's also the fact that every time he does point out what he did was wrong, there's always some kind of justification behind it. "I did... because I felt..." It undermines what's supposed to be a genuine apology because it's not about Bakugou's feelings, he wasn't the one hurt (more on this later).

2) Timing

So many people have brought this up and they're absolutely right; that was the worst possible time for this to happen. Izuku was injured, starving, and dirty. Not to mention his mental state is practically in shambles. He's been isolating himself for weeks in his attempts to walk a selfless, lonely path. The absolute last thing he needed was this shitty apology.

This was supposed to be an effort for Class 1A to show Izuku that they care about him and to convince him to share his burden and come back to UA with them and rest and heal. Instead that genuine effort is highjacked by Bakugou rambling on about something entirely unrelated. He could have done this during the bath scene or even right after that. Instead, it's shoehorned into Izuku's actual friends trying their best to help him.

Iida's words should have been the final ones. They had enough impact and were way more powerful. There was no reason for Bakugou's apology to be the finishing lines.

3) The Insults

It's wild to me that Bakugou apologized for insulting Izuku... right after purposely insulting Izuku.

This is something that has been detrimental to Bakugou's entire character "redemption". "Oh, he's changing!" Except he's still doing the same shit he's always done. It undermines the entire point of redeeming him.

(I hate to be pro Endeavor in any way, but at least when he decided to change he made the genuine effort to stay that way and didn't relapse into old habits)

Not only did him mocking Izuku do absolutely nothing to change his mind, it's just so shitty to do to someone who's clearly struggling. If you are incapable of showing empathy and kindness at a time like this, shut up and sit down because there's no reason for you to open your mouth. You're not helping, you're only making things worse.

And then he says, "I don't expect this to change things between us." Like bro, that's completely on you. All you have to do is not be a dick and act like your apology actually meant something by refraining from hurling insults at someone who did nothing to deserve it. But even after this apology, he continues to yell at and insult Izuku. Sato and Tokoyami even call him out on this, only it's just played for laughs.

Word to the wise kids, an apology means nothing if just keep repeating your bad behavior.

4) No Autonomy for the Victim

Not once do we get to see what Izuku's thinking. Not once do we ever see things from his point of view.

This moment is entirely about Bakugou. It's only a plot device to develop his character and make him come off better. And Izuku who was the victim gets no attention. He doesn't even get to respond, he just faints by the end of it.

In fact, the closest thing we ever get to an insight into Izuku's feelings is All Might saying that he wouldn't hold what Bakugou did against him. That's such a copout considering a) nothing Izuku did ever indicated he felt that way and b) another person is speaking for him. He doesn't even get to say this himself.

Horikoshi does this consistently. Izuku is never allowed to voice how he feels. We never get to see how things are affecting him. The only time he's ever permitted to show strong emotions is when it's in favor of someone else. You would think that by this point in the story that would be rectified. But no, everything has to be about Bakugou. Not even in his own rescue story can Izuku ever be the center of attention. No, it's all about making Bakugou better.

(Again I hate to be pro Endeavor, but at least Shoto, Fuyumi, and Natsu get to respond to Endeavor's attempts at atonement on their own terms. Natsu is allowed to be angry. Fuyumi gets to make the choice to forgive him. Shoto is allowed to ponder the decision. Both cases are terrible abuse narratives, but at least the Todoroki kids have a say in how they feel and are allowed to express it. Izuku doesn't even get that)

It feels like Izuku isn't even allowed to be a victim in any way, shape, or form. He's just there to prop Bakugou

[brewsterispunkk]

THE TUTOR

eddie munson x reader

part 1/4

pairing: eddie munson x f!reader, eddie munson x shy!reader (only one use of y/n and I cringed writing it)

rating: 18+ mature! minors be gone!

summary: reader has had a secret crush on Eddie Munson for months, only she has been too scared to tell him. When she’s forced to tutor him, she lets it slip that she feels like she’s missed out on the normal “high school experience.” Eddie aims to change that.

A/N: this has been in my drafts since LAST MAY!!! & i am just now finishing it jfc. this is part one to a series I’m looking to make three parts! I’ll finish it if it’s the last thing I do!

You hated first period. Always had, ever since sophomore year when you’d had AP literature with the juniors and Carol Perkins had made it her life’s work to make your life a living hell.

You didn’t know exactly what you had done to make her hate you so much, but early on in the year, she’d made it abundantly clear that you were going to be her new target. And you, being the only awkward, braces-faced sophomore in the class, had elected to suck it up and take the bullying.

After all, she was telling you everything you already knew; your hair was frizzy, your teeth were crooked, your acne was ugly and awful. The usual things that you, with the same awful self esteem that was characteristic of every knobby-kneed 14-year-old, had already heard and already believed.

Eventually, when your study-buddy and the only other underclassman in the class, Nancy Wheeler, found out about the full extent of the bullying, she’d done something about it. She had just started dating Steve Harrington at that point, and despite his larger than life hair and not so great reputation, he was nice to you by association. He was the one who got Carol to stop.

Still though, you thought that that god-awful year of excruciating first-period classes had ruined them for you for good; conditioned you somehow into expecting the worst from your first class of the day so that now, as a senior, you still dreaded it.

Today was no different.

You tapped your foot distractedly in the back seat of Steve’s car as he pulled out of your neighborhood.

“For the last time, Robin, no you cannot play the new Clash cassette. Put it away—“

“Oh come on, Harrington. It’s good.” Robin sighed exasperated. She’d been your next door neighbor since you were five, and your best friend ever since.

“Oh, oh! Like the new Madonna album?” Steve asked, eyebrows raised as he looked at Robin in the passenger seat.

“Or the Duran Duran one?” You piped in, biting your nails and looking at her expectantly. Immediately, her head whipped back to you, mouth open in a silent gasp.

“Wha—“ she made a choked sound, looking between you and Steve before bringing her gaze back to you, narrowing her eyes. “Who’s side are you on?”

“Uhm, the side of good music.” You countered, playfully sassing your best friend.

“Wow..” she drawled dramatically, interrupting you.

“And right now,” you continued. “Harrington has the better mixtape. Sorry!” You batted her hand away as she reached back to smack your arm.

“Boom!” Steve declared triumphantly, raising his hands from the wheel for a split-second. “Sorry, Robs, we love you but if I have to listen to one more of your mix tapes, I’m gonna—“

“Yeah, yeah! I get it.” Robin was silent for a moment before turning around to glance between the two of you. “You know, every day I remember how it was me that got this little group together, and every day it comes back to bite me in the ass.”

“Oh right,” Steve scoffed. “You’re forgetting, I’ve known y/n since junior year, and I’ve only known you for like, I don’t know, nine months.”

“Okay, but you two weren’t friends.” She gave Steve a pointed look. “It wasn’t until I convinced her to come work with us at Scoops Ahoy that we all started hanging out. So what I should be hearing is ‘thank you Robin.’”

In the rear view, you saw Steve roll his eyes at her antics, a smirk on his face.

“Actually,” you pointed out. “Steve and i hung out almost every day sophomore year.”

“Yeah,” Robin pressed. “But that was because of miss prissy-pants, Nancy Wheeler, not because you two were friends.”

You bristled a bit at your best friend’s name for Nancy. You knew she probably didn’t mean anything by it, but still. She didn’t know Nancy like you did. And Nancy had been nice to you when you didn’t have many friends besides Robin. She’d made it her problem when you were being bullied and did what she could to stop it, when she didn’t have to.

You and Nancy hadn’t really talked much since she and Steve broke up. Even after the whole ordeal last summer, with the mall “fire,” and Russian agents in Hawkins, you two hadn’t really reconnected. But there was no bad blood there. You wished her the best.

“I don’t know, Robs,” Steve interjected. “I think she gets bragging rights for knowing me longer.”

You laughed at that.

“Oh whatever,” Robin shook her head, leaning her elbow on Steve’s open window, bopping her head to the music pouring through the speakers.

“Good god, I don’t wanna be going back there.” She groaned as Hawkins High came into view. “It’s not too late to skip you know.” She craned her head back to look at you, a hopeful look in her eyes.

“I’m highly considering it.” You bounced your knee, trying to relieve some of the tension in your limbs.

“Ugh, no I can’t.” Robin exasperated. “My moms gonna kill me if she finds out I skipped again.”

There goes my chance, you thought, knowing there’s no way you’d skip without her.

“Yeah, I do not miss this place, gotta say.” Steve mused as he pulled into the parking lot. Robin rolled her eyes at him. You chuckled. They fought like an old married couple.

“I have Ms. Taylor first period,” you groaned at the memory of the stern, mean older woman who you had for home room this semester.

“Oh god,” Steve laughed. You smacked his shoulder. “Well, good luck with that. I’ll see you two at 3.”

You and Robin begrudgingly exited Steve’s car, facing the pit of despair known as Hawkins High School.

Thank god this was your last year, you thought to yourself.

As you eyed down the beige brick building, you could’ve sworn you felt a bit of your soul get sucked out. It may sound dramatic, but it was true. You felt yourself retreat into yourself the closer you got.

Something about Hawkins high just did that to people. Made them retreat and put on whatever mask they had to go get through the day. You were no exception.

“Let’s get this over with,” Robin mumbled beside you, beginning to walk toward the doors.

“Let’s.” You sighed back.

- - - - - -

There was one aspect of first period English with Ms. Taylor that you considered a saving grace—not that you’d ever admit it out loud.

Eddie Munson.

You weren’t sure why it started, if you were honest with yourself.

In fact, at the beginning of the year, you, like everyone else, were actually a little bit terrified of the lanky, tall metalhead that the rest of the school had dubbed “the freak.”

Before this year, you hadn’t really had many encounters with Eddie Munson. You’d known of him, sure, but never really interacted with him. Besides the few random outbursts he’d have in the cafeteria, and one time when you’d given him a pencil in your art elective freshman year, you’d kept your distance. Most of what you’d heard about him came from the kids; which meant they were lies, at worst, and exaggerations at best. You could tell they admired him from the way they spoke of him—Dustin in particular, who had spoken of Eddie in the way he’d only ever spoken of one person before: Steve. But that was the extent of your knowledge.

Eddie had been two years ahead of you technically, although now he was a senior, same as you, and stuck in the same miserable first period English class with Ms. Taylor.

It had started out innocent enough, you liked to tell yourself. You weren’t always swooning over him and his leather jackets or studded rings. It had just snowballed.

It had begun like this: it was the first day of your senior year, and to add to your nerves at a new dreadful year, Ms. Taylor had given you, and all your classmates, assigned seats.

Great, you’d thought. Just great. Now you had to sit next to a complete stranger while also being a complete ball of anxiety all class.

You were early. Much to your chagrin, Steve had insisted on picking you and Robin up earlier than usual because it was your first day, and what if you have trouble finding your classes. Completely ignoring the fact that you and Robin had gone to Hawkins High for three years and knew it like the back of your hand.

Still, it had gotten you here, 15 minutes early to the first bell, trapped in a room with no one other than Ms. Taylor, and Eddie Munson himself.

“You’ll be right there, beside Mr. Munson.” Ms Taylor had drawled monotonously, eyes focused on a stack of papers on her desk.

You froze, looking over at Eddie, who was scribbling down in a notebook in the second to last row of desks from the back. He looked up at you for a moment before going back to his writing.

“Did you hear me?” Ms Taylor said your last name. You snapped out of it, smiling over at her and gripping the strap to your backpack before making your way to the seat.

“Yeah. Sorry, Ms. Taylor.”

You sat down rigidly, looking anywhere but at Eddie. Ms Taylor left the room to refill her coffee cup in the teacher’s lounge, leaving you and him the only people in the room.

You felt your hands begin to shake at the impending doom of first period rolling around. You knew it was dumb; it’d been two years since the first-period-from-hell, and you still couldn’t shake your fear of home room. You clasped them together, folding your fingers on top of each other on the desk, trying to calm your breathing. Your heart pounded in your ears.

“Look, you can relax, okay,” Eddie’s annoyed voice beside you snapped you out of it. “I won’t bite.”

You looked over at him, his face looked impatient, though if you looked closely, you thought you could detect a little bit of hurt there too. Your eyebrows furrowed, before you realized what he must have been thinking.

He thought you were scared of him.

It made sense, though that was far from what was going through your head.

“No,” you began quietly, before clearing your throat. “That’s not what I—that’s not—that’s not it.”

“Whatever you say,” he mumbled, eyebrows raised as he continued writing.

That was the day it started. The watching him.

It’d begun as a way of coping; a way to distract yourself from Ms. Taylor’s droning on about Shakespeare, or the whispers of the two mean girls who sat at the front and liked to glance back at you and snicker.

Your therapist had mentioned the method to you a few months before, a way to maybe cope with your anxiety in anticipation with the upcoming school year. It was a method that your shrink had described as a way of ‘hyper-focusing’, or concentrating on one thing until the anxiety wore away.

And in the haze of your first day, you’d focused on Eddie.

But eventually, as the year wore on, it developed into something different.

You began to notice his hair; how it would fall over his face as he frowned in concentration at whatever he was writing in that book. His hands, big and flanked with gaudy silver rings. You began to wonder how they’d feel on your skin, running through your hair, over your stomach.

It was almost a type of game you played with yourself; a form of escapism. On days your anxiety got too much, the days your hands would sweat and your feet couldn’t cease their tapping, you could look beside you and focus on Eddie. And it would all fall away.

You supposed that’s why you kept your little obsession a secret; it was embarrassing.

Not the fact that you were infatuated with him, but the fact that you’d been using practically a complete stranger to talk yourself down from anxiety attacks. You hadn’t even told Robin, the person you shared everything with. And somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew that this wasn’t some little crush or admiration—it was more than that.

But you refused to admit that to yourself, because there was one huge, glaring problem. That being that Eddie Munson hated you. You were sure of it.

It was as if after the awkward encounter you’d shared at the beginning of the year, he avoided you like the plague. Not looking, talking, or even so much as breathing your way once. And the one time when you’d gotten the nerve to ask him a question, he’d barely grunted out a response before the had rung and he was gone.

That had been the first and last time you’d attempted to talk to Eddie Munson. Your crush was doomed, you knew it. Not only were you convinced he couldn’t stand you, you also were almost positive that he still thought you were scared of him, like he did at the beginning of the year.

Which, to be fair, you were. Just not in that way. As far as Eddie was concerned, you were scared of him in the judgy, superficial, ill-intentioned way that the rest of Hawkins was, not in the butterflies, tongue-tied, make-your-hands-sweat way that you truly were.

Besides, even if you were the most confident person in the world (you were far from it), and if Eddie didn’t, for some inexplicable reason, hate you, you were sure that you would have absolutely no chance with him anyway. Because why would Eddie Munson, all crooked smiles and sure steps and kind eyes, be even the least bit interested in you? It was inconceivable. Because you were shy and scared and binary and everything he was not.

So, you’d deduced that you were doomed to wait out this life-ruining crush the same way you’d been doomed to wait out countless other things in your high school life: silently.

- - - - -

Today was no different than the other nearly insufferable first periods you’d endured this school year, aside from the fact that today was Monday, which brought with it a more tired you, and a much, much more irritable Ms Taylor.

She’d assigned two detentions so far this period, to Bradley Green and Doug Mitchell, two boys from the basketball team that had been throwing spitballs and harassing Eddie, who merely smirked at them in response, effectively egging them on.

You glanced at the clock, tapping your foot subconsciously on the off-white tile below your feet.

5 minutes left, you reminded yourself, watching the clock tick down. Your hands started to clam up. Perfect.

You let out a shaky breath. A few rows in front of you, Pam Simpson and Diana Fiorelli glanced back, eyes zeroing in on you, before Pam snickered and leaned over to whisper into Diana’s ear.

This wasn’t new; they always had some off-color remark or an unnecessary eye-roll to throw at you ever since they found out about your close friendship with Steve Harrington, former king of Hawkins High.

How two nerds like yourself and Robin Buckley had managed to bag someone as popular as Steve the hair Harrington as a best friend seemed to be beyond them, and they sought everyday to punish you for it.

The truth was: Steve had left all of that behind. From the wake-up call that was his break-up with Nancy, to the whole fighting-monsters-from-another-dimension thing, he didn’t really care about it anymore. He’d found better friends in you guys. The whole Russians-in-Hawkins, and Starcourt “fire” helped too.

It was true what they said about trauma: it brought people together.

You tried to ignore their whispering, like Robin had encouraged you.

She was absolutely livid when she’d found out that Diana had “accidentally,” spilled her yogurt parfait over your new blouse last week. It had taken a whole five minutes of both you and Steve talking her down from her stupor to stop her from marching straight to the gymnasium, interrupting cheer practice, and giving Diana a black eye. After though, when you’d managed to calm your best friend down, she’d gone off—trying to convince you to stick up for yourself, to say something. If not to the mean girls themselves, then to Ms Taylor at the very least.

But that was the difference between you and Robin; where she would act, you would listen. Remain passive. It was a trait that served you well when it came to retaining information or solving upside-down-related issues, in situations like these, it kind of screwed you over.

You turned your head from the front of the classroom, blocking out Ms Taylor’s lecture on T. S. Elliot and instead turning your head to the desk beside yours. Eddie’s desk.

He was hunched over, head on his hands, which were crossed and folded on top of the desk in front of him. His chin rested there, and his dark eyes were focused on the board, squinting, as if trying to make out what it said.

He seemed to be trying to pay attention, a stark contrast to how you usually saw him hunched over around his worm notebook, scribbling or drawing.

He wore dark blue jeans today, instead of his usual black ones, and a Quiet Riot band T-shirt . His leather jacket was draped over the chair behind him, as Ms Taylor’s room was hot today. His hair fell messily over his back and in front of his face. His ringed fingers tapped on the desk—he was evidently as anxious for the class to end as you were.

You knew he had trouble focusing. You’d picked up on as much throughout the school year, watching him try and try and try to stay locked in to whatever Ms Taylor was teaching.

So many of your classmates had written him off: cult leader, satanist, idiot, freak, but you saw something different. The Eddie you knew (well, not really knew, more like observed) was none of those things. He was different, yes. Flamboyant, sure. But he was not an idiot. Nor was he evil or freakish or anything of the sort.

The ringing of the bell snapped you from your thoughts. You jerked your head back to your desk as your classmates began to pack up and bustle out to their next classes, the sound of backpacks zipping and chatter filling the classroom.

Per usual, Eddie was the first out of his seat, already packed and ready, before leaving the classroom with long strides, eyes trained on the floor, narrowly avoiding your gaze.

You shoved your notebook into your bag, bending over to zip it up and run like hell out of the classroom. You hoped to avoid any unnecessary contact with Pam and Diane. Ms Taylor cleared her throat, before saying your name.

“I’d like to see you for a moment, please,” she said monotonously, eyes focused on the grade book in front of her. A shot of anxiety spread through your stomach.

“Yes, Ms Taylor?” You asked quietly, noting that you were the only two people left in the classroom.

“You have one of the top grades in the class, second only to Mr. Levy, did you know that?” She asked, still not looking up. You puzzled. So you weren’t in trouble?

“Uh-I-no, I didn’t, actually.” You mumbled, brows furrowed.

“Indeed,” she hummed. “I also have been made aware that you are lacking an extracurricular for graduation, is that correct?”

Shit, you thought. She was right.

Last summer, you’d been set to take a summer gym elective; the ones that the school offered during the school year were too crowded and made your anxiety act up, so you and Robin had both signed up to take summer gym. However, the upside-down and the Russians’ presence in Hawkins at Starcourt had had other plans, so both you and her had failed the class, due to bad attendance. And while Robin had made sure to complete her gym credit last semester, you’d completely forgotten about the whole debacle until now.

“Yeah,” you breathed, in shock that you’d managed to forget about something so important when graduation was only months away. “I-I forgot—“

“I figured as much,” Ms Taylor cut you off, finally looking up at you. “Well, seeing as it’s too late in the semester to sign you up for any electives, it would seem that you’ll be having to repeat your senior year.”

Your breath left your lungs.

No, you thought, no, no, no. The last thing you could handle was another year stuck here. In this high school, in this city. You felt your breathing stutter at the thought.

“Luckily for you,” Ms Taylor continued, refocusing you on the moment. “I have a solution that may just save you from that.”

You blew out a breath between your lips, looking at her anxiously.

“Yes,” you breathed out. “Anything— I completely forgot about—“

“I trust you’re familiar with Mr. Munson?” She interrupted you. Your brows furrowed. What did Eddie have to do with this?

“Yes.”

“Well, then I’m sure you’re aware that this will be his second time repeating his senior year.” Ms Taylor looked up at you now, her beady eyes laser-focused. “If he fails again, the school won’t be giving him another chance. It would seem that this class is one of the only things standing between him and a one-way ticket out of this school.”

“I dont think I follow—“ you began.

“You will tutor Mr Munson.” She clarified, face stoic as ever. “From now until the end of the spring semester. If you do this, and if I see improvement, I will make it count as your extracurricular. You’ll be able to graduate on time, and he will get the hell out of my classroom for good.”

You were stunned—not only by the fact that you’d be forced into proximity Eddie Munson for the rest of the year, but the fact that Ms Taylor would speak so candidly about a student.

“I—I-“ you tried to articulate what to say next, but found you were unable to gather your thoughts.

“I can’t,” you finally managed, dumbly. Ms Taylor raised a thin eyebrow at you.

“Well,” she said. “It seems that unless you want to repeat your senior year, you don’t have much of a choice.”

“But, Ms Taylor, I—“

“Look,” she sighed your name. “You’re a smart girl. Mr Munson may be… a handful, but I promise he’s harmless. You will be fine. You can even meet on the school premises, if you’d feel better about that.”

Dear Lord, you didn’t know how to tell her that the reason why you couldn’t tutor him was not because of his reputation, or that you were scared of him, it was because you could barely form a coherent thought in his presence.

“Are we clear?” She asked, arms crossed. You tried to speak, but your mouth was dry. You just gulped and nodded.

“Good,” she smiled tightly. You sighed, turning to leave, already knowing you’d be late to your next class. She called your name as you began to exit, your hand on the door handle.

“Just know, I will be checking weekly with Mr Munson to see how tutoring is going. So don’t think that if you fail to show up I won’t know.”

You nodded, shutting the door behind you as you left.

Great. No escaping it. What if you embarrassed yourself? What if he really did hate you? What if—

“Hey.”

You jumped, too caught up in your thoughts to even notice the tall, lanky figure leaning up against the lockers next to Ms Taylor’s classroom.

“Jesus, sorry.” Eddie looked at you with wide eyes, an arm coming to steady you on your shoulder. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

When you just stared at him, he cleared his throat, removing his hand from your shoulder. A part of you mourned the loss.

“So, uh,” he began, looking down at his feet as he walked alongside you. You tried not to notice the faint scent of his cologne that sent a thrill through your gut. “So I guess she told you? About the tutoring?”

When his curly head snapped up to meet your eyes, you quickly faced forward, realizing that you’d been ogling his side profile while he was stumbling over his words. You nodded in confirmation.

“Ok,” he said, rubbing his hands on his legs. “Ok,” he repeated, stopping and turning to face you. “I’m just gonna cut the bullshit: I really, really need the help in this class.” His eyes were a bit wild, panicked. Like he thought you were going to run away from him the moment you got a chance. “Like, ‘really,’ as in, if I don’t pass, I don’t graduate. And I know you really don’t wanna do this, and she’s forcing you, and that you hate me, and you’re scared of me, and all that, but if you could please—please— just help me get through this class, I will make it as painless as possible spending all the time with me.”

By the end of his little speech, he looked frantic, like he was pleading—and you suppose he was. And before you could stop yourself, you just nodded, looking at him dumbly, before remembering to speak.

“I’ll help you pass.” Was all you could manage.

He sighed a breath of relief, running a hand down his face.

“Thank you,” he said, and you could’ve sworn it was the most sincere you’d ever heard him. “Thursday after school in the library sound good?”

- - - -

You arrived early, because, of course you did.

To say you were nervous would be an understatement; you were terrified. Mostly of making an even bigger fool of yourself than you had earlier in the week.

You’d spent the better part of the last three days poring over your last interaction with Eddie in the hallway, when he’d begged you to tutor him, and you’d gotten about five words in edgewise.

He’d practically accused you of hating him, and instead of correcting him—like you’d been dying to do for the whole semester—you stood there like an idiot.

You wished you’d told him then and there in that hallway that he was wrong; that you weren’t scared of him, and that you didn’t hate him. That you were just shy and awkward and he unnerved you. So, you decided to do just that.

Last night, while finally talking through the whole situation with Robin, you’d decided that the first words you’d say to him would be: “I’m not scared of you and I don’t hate you.”

It was a bit abrasive and to-the-point, you knew that. But, you also knew that if you let him get a word in before that, you’d lose your nerve. At least this way, you got your point across.

Your eyes ran over the page of your book for what felt like the fiftieth time. You sighed, throwing the worn novel down on the table.

There was no way you’d be able to get any reading done, not with your nerves eating you alive.

The book wasn’t that good anyway. You had no clue what Robin meant when she said Hemingway was ‘profound.’

You sighed again, eyes finding the clock in the library.

He was five minutes late.

You felt something deflate inside you. Maybe he’d been bluffing about the whole thing, or maybe he’d changed his mind and wouldn’t show. Your mind ran with the possibilities.

The library was sparse at this time.

It was just past three, and most students had already rushed out of the building. It was Thursday, which meant that the town was just waking up for the weekend. It wasn’t uncommon for friend groups to have small get-togethers, or even for one of the bigger cliques to throw a party.

In fact, Steve had managed to convince Robin and yourself to attend one later that night. Which was a feat, because you didn’t make a habit of going out.

It was at Darren’s house: one of the few friends from high school that Steve actually kept up with after, y’know, everything.

Robin was hoping Vicky would be there. You were just hoping to let loose a little.

With all this business with Eddie and your impending (maybe) graduation, your nerves had been through the roof. A party was just what you needed to calm down.

“Sorry,” he appeared out of nowhere, and before you could stop yourself, you jumped.

“Sorry!” Eddie rushed out, slumping down in the chair across from you. “Really, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to scare you all the time. Sorry I’m late.”

You stared at him.

God, he was pretty.

His hair was big and frizzy, per usual, and fell around his face as a halo. His brown eyes were wide and almost doe -like, and his cheeks were rosy with exertion.

He must have been running, you thought. But why? He wasn’t that late.

“Were you running?” You blurted before you could think. Your brows furrowed as you looked at him.

“Uhhhh, yeah,” he drawled. “Yeah, I ran into some trouble getting here.”

“What trouble?”

“The usual.” Eddie rubbed his eyes, and for the first time since he’d sat down, you noticed how disheveled he looked.

His white tee shirt was stained on the shoulder with what looked like… fruit?

“Is that… food on your shoulder?”

“Shit,” his gaze snapped to his shoulder. “Yeah, uhm. It’s jello.”

Eddie looked… embarrassed. For the first time in the time you’d known him, he looked sheepish.

“Was it Jason?”

“That obvious?” He laughed mirthlessly. In fact, it was a little menacing.

“He’s a dick.” You said without thinking.

Eddie just nodded, staring down a place on the table.

“Are you okay?”

He looked at you, dark eyes guarded.

He seemed to be sizing you up, eyes following you up and down. But his usual playfulness was gone. Instead, he looked almost… forlorn.

“Uh, yeah.” His lips lifted into a humorless smile. “Just done with this bullshit, I guess.”

“Hmm,” you hummed.

“I’m tired of people looking at me like I’m a freak. I’m tired of not behind able to fucking walk to class in peace, I’m tired of people being fucking,” he slammed his hands on the table in front of you. When you jump, he throws them up. “Scared of me!”

You stay silent for a moment, letting him stew and collect himself. After a few seconds, Eddie sighs.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t—“

“I’m not scared of you, and I don’t hate you.”

“—mean to—what?”

“I’m not scared of you.” You repeated, wiping your clammy hands on your jeans. “And I don’t hate you, like you said on Monday. I’m Im just,” you stopped to take a breath. “It’s just hard for me sometimes. With… new people.”

“You sure? Because you look scared to me.”

“You aren’t helping.”

Eddie shivered, rubbing at the jello-colored stain on his shoulder.

“Do you… want to change?” You asked shakily.

“What?”

“Nevermind,” you rushed out, shaking your head. “It’s nothing. You just—looked cold. I have an extra sweatshirt.”

“And you think it would fit me?”

“I like to wear them a few sizes too big.” You added lamely.

Eddie contemplated you for a moment, before sighing.

“What the hell,” he said half to himself. “Why not?”

After he pulled the lilac crew neck over his head, he smiled.

“Okay,” he chuckled. “I’m sorry. Thank you for doing this. I know it can’t be great for your…image.”

You snorted at that.

“Yeah, my image isn’t exactly suffering.”

“Yeah?” He leaned forward, setting his chin on his fists.

God, his forearms. You forced yourself to look away.

“Yeah. Not exactly prom queen here.”

“Eh, prom queen is overrated.”

You laughed, your own crinkling eyes meeting his. You thought you saw his eyes soften as they looked at you. The vision of him there, in front of you, made your stomach flip.

You cleared your throat, turning to your notes in front of you.

“So,” you straightened your notebook. “Ready to talk about T. S. Elliot?”

- - - -

The party was loud. Mötley Crüe boomed through the speakers that Darren’s rich family had in what seemed like every room.

You silently thanked Darren for having good music taste. The party would have been unbearable otherwise.

You sighed as you walked out the back door of the house. The inside had gotten a bit too stuffy for you, and with Robin trailing after Vickie and Steve reconnecting with one of his old flames, you were flying solo for the time being.

You brushed your jeans with your hands before sitting down on the back step, a lukewarm rum and coke in the solo cup in your hand.

You felt yourself deflate.

As a senior in high school, this was the closest you’d come to actually living.

While Robin had had her fair share of secret flings and parties and Steve had lived a wild four years of high school, you were just… there.

At eighteen years old, you felt like you’d missed out. Been robbed. The Upside Down had something to do with that, you supposed. Fighting for your own and the kids’ lives from Russians and other-worldly demon creatures tends to do that. Still, it didn’t stop your friends from living. You felt like you’d let your teen years pass you by, but mostly, you felt pathetic.

Sure, you had the grades, but rather than that? You had nothing to show for your time at Hawkins High.

“Hey tutor,” the smooth drawl came from the side of the house. You’d know it anywhere.

Eddie rounded the corner of the house, approaching where you were sitting on the back step.

He wore the same black jeans he wore earlier today, but his jello-stained shirt and your lilac crew neck were gone, replaced by a t-shirt with what looked like Judas Priest’s logo. His arms were crossed over his chest, covered by the black leather he wore more often than not.

“Hey,” you offered lamely, rubbing your hands together.

“What ya doing out here all alone?” He came to stop in front of you, his chunky combat boots taking up your line of vision.

“Just…taking a breather.” You smiled up at him, tight-lipped.

“Hmm,” he hummed. “Scoot over, then. It’s a little too… preppy for me in there.”

You obliged, scooting over a few feet so he could sit next to you. As he dropped down on the concrete step next to you, he was close enough that you caught his scent.

It was deep, some kind of cologne, mixed with cigarette smoke and a hint of what you knew was weed.

“So…” Eddie bumped his shoulder into yours. “Thought this wasn’t your crowd?”

“It’s not,” you pressed your hands between your knees. “Robin and Steve dragged me here. I thought it would help me… unwind.”

“Robin… she’s in band right?”

You nodded.

“And Steve… I don’t think I know that one.”

You chuckled.

“You definitely do,” you peeked over at him, eager to see his reaction. “Uh, Steve Harrington?”

Eddie looked at you like you grew a second head.

“The hair?” He asked incredulously.

“The very same,” you nodded.

“God, sweetheart.” Eddie shook his head. “I’m beginning to question the company you keep.”

Your heart leapt at what he called you. Sweetheart.

“I know, I know,” you held out your hands. “He was an asshole. But he’s different now.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“He is!” You turned to Eddie defensively. “I wouldn’t be friends with him if he was still the way he used to be. He isn’t like…”

“Jason?” Eddie raised an eyebrow at you. “Like Pam and Diana?”

“Exactly.” You nodded. “He’s still… peppy. He just lost all the bad parts.”

“Hmm,” he crossed his arms. “I’ll take your word for it.”

A moment of silence passed between the two of you, the only sounds being your breath and the roar of the party inside. Your breaths swirled in the chilly air around you.

“Why are you here?” You spoke finally. “You said this wasn’t your scene.”

“It’s not,” he shrugged, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a little baggy filled with green substance. “I’m, uh, supplying the party favors.”

You snorted at that.

“These things good business?”

“You have no idea.” He nodded to the inside of the house. “A lot of these kids’ allowance is more than what my uncle makes in a week.”

You hummed, content to just sit in silence.

Eddie tilted his head at you, leaning his chin on his hands again like he did earlier in the library. He tilted his cheek toward you, an easy smile on his lips.

“So, why are you really out here, tutor-girl?” He looked at you curiously. “You look upset.”

You drew a heavy breath, before sighing.

“It’s dumb.” You picked at your nails.

“Try me.”

“I feel like..” you looked up, before turning to Eddie. “I feel like I’ve missed out. I’m a senior, I’m graduating this year, and I have done nothing.”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow, but he doesn’t move to interrupt you. He only leans further toward you, spurring you to continue. The alcohol gave you the rest of the confidence you lacked.

“All my friends have had their little rebellions. Their flings, all of it. And I have done nothing, except drink shitty booze and nearly lose my mind.”

You blew a deep breath once you’d finished. Somehow, you felt even worse—more pathetic—now that you’d vocalized it.

But Eddie didn’t look at you like you were pathetic. Instead, he looked pensive, hand on his chin as he contemplated. It was your instinct to backtrack.

You moved to stand

“Sorry. That was a lot. Nevermind. Let’s just forget I—“

“No, no, don’t apologize.” He grabbed your arm and gently pulled you back to sit beside him. “Especially after what I dumped on you earlier.”

Your cheeks were red, you could tell. Whether that be because of the combination of the alcohol and the confession, you couldn’t tell.

“Hmm,” Eddie hummed, still thinking. You snuck a glance over at him and noticed a wry smile on his face. “Let’s fix it then.”

“What?”

“We have til May, don’t we? That’s eight months. Your senior year isn’t over yet.”

You laughed nervously.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that—“

“You’re not! I’m offering. Consider it payback for all the hours you’ll be tutoring me in Taylor’s class.”

“Okay…”

“Okay.” Eddie smiled. “It’s a deal, then .”

[bridgertonbabe]

Could we please get a group chat after the reveal that Phillip is sporting absolute anaconda in his trousers?

BSSG Group Chat

Michael: Hey everyone. I just wanted to take the opportunity to say a BIG FAT MASSIVE hello to my HYUCKING GIANT of a pal @ Phillip

Sophie: ...

Sophie: Okay?

Simon: Could you not just have messaged him separately to say hi?

Kate: Yeah what's with the performance aspect of this specific greeting exactly? 🤨

Penelope: Michael...

Phillip: ...

Phillip: Um hi?

Simon: Do you know wtf he's on about?

Phillip: No?

Michael: Can't a man say a GINORMOUS hello to his ABSOLUTE HULK of a CUMBERSOME buddy without people COCKING their THICKSET eyebrows up with HEAVY suspicion?

Sophie:

Penelope: Michael jfc

Simon: Ah right the first message in isolation just seemed random but now it appears Michael's just being crudely suggestive towards Phil.

Kate: Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Kate: So this was just Michael's immature way of addressing the fact Phil's got a big dick

Sophie: Michael!!!!!!!

Michael: Aw man I've been rumbled.

Penelope: please stop acting like you were being even remotely subtle about it

Michael: Just like Phil has Eloise's bed rumbling from his COLOSSAL RHINO COCK every night.

Sophie: MICHAEL HAMISH STIRLING

Simon: Is nothing sacred?

Penelope:

Phillip: I don't know if I care to have my size being public knowledge.

Simon: Well I definitely don't care for it to be public knowledge.

Michael: Hey Simon, ever heard of the brotherhood of man? Show our dear ol Phillip some respect for his monster cock!

Sophie: 😨

Kate: Can I ask how exactly you know so much about what Phil's working with? You haven't been checking him out at the urinal have you?

Michael: I only know because the only thing bigger than the snake in Phil's pants is Eloise's mouth.

Michael: And just to make it clear everything I've said about Phil's outstanding member has been a direct quote from his shy and retiring fiancee.

Michael: I expect @ Penelope can vouch for me on that.

Penelope: yes I can confirm that El likes to go into graphic detail about her sex life without any prompting whatsoever

Kate: Well that checks out seeing as everything that comes out of Eloise's mouth is unprompted 99% of the time.

Penelope: it's almost impressive the endless ways she's uniquely gone about describing Phil's eye-watering meat wand

Sophie: :(

Michael: She's literally spent the last half an hour talking very loudly at Franny on the subject in the next room.

Michael: Says she's contemplating investing in a cane since a night with Phil always leaves her hobbling around the next day.

Simon has left the chat

[codenamesazanka]

Two things I'm noticing more with the series ending is that the heroes and series have these two very shitty ideas

1 "Actions have consequences but only if the person is labelled a villain,"

Endeavor as a public figure and major player law enforcement has engaged in a list of crimes including: Child neglect, mental & emotional abuse, physical abuse, quirk marriage. To the point his eldest had a mental break when his youngest was born because he was blatantly being replaced, his wife five years later has a mental breakdown and maims the youngest, eldest shortly after has another breakdown and 'dies'. Doesn't need consequences he just needs to give a half ass apology and barely improve over the buried bar he has set.

(from the team up mission side series) Man's quirk dispels a poisonous gas from his mouth, he is not allowed to use it ever as he isn't a hero. The gas builds up leading to a medical emergency, and is no longer able to hold it back. Despite him literally having a medical emergency and being unable to control it, tries to getaway from people. The heroes (Mirko, Deku, and Dynamight, maybe more) assume maliousness and go to attack him. Deku realizes and informs the others what is happening. And at the end Deku informs us, this man who was having a medical emergency from following the law, will get a light sentence.

The violent quirkists who attacked Spinner, Shoji, Himiko's parents, they totally don't need consequences, their victims need to be the ones to inspire them to stop. And if they can't well we can't be expected to hold these poor violent quirkists accountable for their actions

Etc

2 So long as there is one exception to shitty behaviour of heroes & society, nothing needs to be done

I haven't watched the third movie but I have a general idea. Rody has to care for his younger siblings after his dad is kidnapped, heroes, social services, etc do nothing to help this child who is caring for his siblings for years. Deku who isn't even from this country helps once, Heroes are perfect

Deku's a good hero so we don't need to worry about the commission having assassin's

Etc

I'm in a rush but I can probably think of more later

(That Team Up Mission chapter pissed me off so bad!!!! It qualifies as a medical emergency, doesn't it??? He has no control over the poisonous gas build-up in this body! And it destroys his body! But to release the gas is to use his quirk, so he can't, because quirk use is illegal and he'll be arrested as a Villain. Which happens anyways! And in the end, Deku says "when the full story of the day's events hits the news, there's sure to be a petition to lighten his sentence," and while that sounds hopeful, you realize that mercy for this guy is solely on if people know and can offer some sympathy. It's so fucked up.)

I'll also add Iida running off to be a vigilante and kinda ready to murder a guy... but because (he had friends who got there in time to stop the screw up from going FUBAR and) he's promising young student, he's let off the hook. (Meanwhile, Gentle, who tried to help save someone, does fuck up, and iirc is expelled and given criminal charges.)

I think in all the examples you've used, there's also a line between whether quirks were involved or not. Domestic violence, bullying, village blood cleansing (jfc) - No (or technically no) quirk use, so we don't really see those actions resulting in any legal consequences. Heroes' (and the story's) focus is on Villains, so it often feels like they're willing to ignore non-Villain crimes.

So long as there is one exception to shitty behaviour of heroes & society, nothing needs to be done

Oh yeah. This. I hate this.

Man I really hope the epilogue might address this. (said without hope)

Thank you for your observations and sharing them!

[msmarvelouswinchester]

If We Love Again

Summary: Whatever problems we had back then don’t exist anymore. It’s why we have this second chance, and we can’t throw it away. -Michelle Maddow

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Y/N (Reader)

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader

WC: 1942

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending. Post-canon where DEAN IS ALIVE, kinda sappy, body-shaming (not by the boys), hugs and kisses

Square Filled: Your hands are tough, but they are where mine belong ( @taylorswiftbingo )

A/N: Alright. Alright. Hello you people! Jfc, how long has it been? A lot of things happened (personal matters and fandom problems too) so I took a break. Kind of gave up writing for a bit. Then two boys - Alex and Henry (RWRB fandom, I'm looking at you) got me back to writing! And of course I had to write for my baby, Dean Winchester!

And I've also lost my taglist. So sorry for not tagging anyone in this.

Completely unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine.

“What’re you doing here?” The usual routine of the bunker had been thrown off-kilter when Y/N had appeared, looking…frazzled. Maybe a tad smile but her eyes shone with unshed tears. And she was drenched to the bones and panting like she had run a mile to get to the bunker. The man welcomed her inside, saying, “Come in first, you are fucking wet.”

The words slipped and the man’s eyes widened, expecting a snobbish remark from her about the word and its placement in the sentence but soon enough, he frowned because Y/N didn't comment on the…apparent opportunity of turning the entire conversation inappropriate. Like she always did. But today, she wordlessly accepted the man’s gratuitous welcome and headed inside the old establishment.

Once at the end of the stairs, she said, rather whispered, “Hey Dean. Can you do me a favour? I need a hug.” If Dean didn't know what heaven looked like, he would have guessed he had ascended to heaven at Y/N’s request.

Dean, who had sprinted down the steps, looked at her and nodded, opening his arms. Y/N stepped into the hug and wrapped her arms around his torso, hands finding the nape of his neck. Dean’s hands had also instantly found their shelter around her body. They stayed in the position for a while. Y/N inhaled deeply quite a few times. The unforgettable scent of cinnamon and gunpowder hitting her and she let the tears fall as she let her guard down for the first time that night and Dean’s hold around her tightened. The sobs that left her, wrecked his heart. Each wail was like a dagger to his chest. He hated seeing her sad. He rested his chin on the top of her head, the familiar smell of her shampoo gave him whiplash as the memories of…everything queued up inside his head. But he still didn't know what had prompted her to show up at her place. “Y/N, sweetheart, can you look at me? I need you to look at me,” Dean murmured, “please.”

His voice washed over her and the sobbing turned into sniffles. She sniffled against the now wet, snot-covered spot on Dean’s tshirt before her red-rimmed, puffy eyes found his worried green ones. “‘M sorry,” she whimpered.

“Hey, shh, what're you sorry for? For ruining my shirt? Oh, I'll just bribe Sammy to do the laundry,” Dean grinned but the worry never left his eyes.

“I just—Dean, I'm sorry for…s-showing up tonight unannounced…I shouldn't have…what was I even thinkin’? Dean, I’ll—uh…see myself out.” Y/N said, and fidgeted in Dean’s grip but he was reluctant to let go. Not when she had just shown up a few minutes ago and broke down in his arms.

Dean said, “Stop, Y/N. Stop. It's alright. That's what best friends are for.” Nope, not letting you go this time.

“But…” Did you forget the part where we dated and broke up and vowed to never see each other again because it would break our hearts even more?

“No buts,” Dean said, as if he could read the thoughts in her head, “Whatever happened…happened. You were my best friend and you still are. If you need me, in a heartbeat, I'll be there for you. Do you understand that?” He glanced up, Jack if this is your doin’ because I pretty much dreamed about second chances last night then thanks, buddy.

Y/N nodded.

“Now let's go sit down. I'm gonna go find Sam and let him know you're here. And then we can go and kick some asses.” Dean gently guided her to his room in the bunker and sat her down on his bed, asking if she needed anything to drink, water or beer or anything to eat, knowing all they had was pie and a greasy two-days old burger in the freezer. They really needed to stock up their fridge more now they have started to live normal lives.

Y/N, though just asked for water.

Dean winked and said he would be back in a minute. And he was, with Sam in tow who had scooped her up in a giant hug. Oh, she had missed them.

“Hi, Sam. You look…different.” Y/N giggled at Sam in his formal clothes instead of the layers of plaid she was used to seeing on him. She had heard that the Winchesters had retired from hunting but seeing them bask in their post-retirement glory was astonishing.

“Yeah, had a makeover sorta, got myself a job and everything—”

“And a girlfriend,” Dean wiggled his brows and his brother blushed furiously. In between the conversation, Dean had handed Y/N a glass of water and sat down beside her on the bed.

She sipped on the water and hummed thoughtfully, “Who would have thought? Our little Sammy, all grown up!”

And for the first since her alarmingly sudden visit to the bunker, Y/N smiled.

“Oh shut up. Enough about me. Dean said something to me about kicking someone's asses. Do we have to bring out our hunting gear?” Y/N’s eyes widened at the question.

“No! Jesus, no guns. And no violence.” She warned the Winchesters.

“Can’t promise on the violence part, sweetheart!” Dean smirked. “So what happened?”

“Honestly. I think I'm good. It was a moment of…sadness but I'm oka—”

Dean cut her off, saying, “Y/N you were wailing. That was not nothing. Come on, tell us, we swear we'll be good.”

Y/N hesitated and Sam decided to put her out of her misery, “Whatever Dean says, if you don't feel comfortable in telling us. Don't tell.”

“Oh…” Dean sighed, “Yeah, I…I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. You seriously don't have to tell us, if you're not up for it.”

“It's just not that,” she swallowed hard. It should be easy to tell them, right? They were her best friends. She took a deep breath and said, “The guy, I am…or rather was dating—” She felt Dean tense up beside her and Sam side-eyed his brother but she continued “-well, he was an asshole. A dickhead. A fucking son of a bitch.”

Sam chuckled. “That's quite a description.”

“Yeah. So I applied for this job in NYC and well…I got it—” her heart soared in her chest as she watched the brothers’ faces split into a huge grin “-but this moron of my ex-boyfriend decided to throw my insecurities to my face because he didn't want me to go to NYC.”

Now looking back, Y/N didn't know why she was sad. She was angry. No, she was pissed because how dare a pathetic little man order her around about whether or not she should work in New York. “He was worried that I wasn't too pretty for the NYC girls, that I was too soft to survive in a big city like New York—”

This time Dean chuckled. Because Y/N wasn't soft, she was a hunter. Born into a hunter family only to give it all up because she wanted a quieter life. But she knew how to fight, how to wield a gun. And she was pretty. Too pretty and even after four years of breaking up, Dean’s heart still skipped a beat when she called his name, looked at his face and he was still enamoured by her very existence.

“So I told him that I would leave his sorry ass,” Y/N’s lips trembled, “and he said it was going to be the best thing because I wasn't worth enough for him to fight for because I…I am ‘too much’ and I…I don't put an effort into being the woman a man wants, no…needs. And in that moment, I got so sad, I needed to see you. Because I missed you guys so much. I missed this where no one judged me or at least didn't use to until…well, I…yeah. So, this is how I showed up here.”

“You're always welcome here, Y/N. And I'm sorry, things haven't been…good for a few years but don't think for a second we will judge you or not let you back into our lives,” Dean’s hands had snaked back around her waist, pulling her closer while she continued, “Well, he was kinda right. Don't you think? I talk too much. Sometimes I go on a ramble. I don't watch my diet—”

“That son of a bitch body-shamed you?” Dean was seething.

“Yeah. And he said, I was too much of a work to stay with. I have always been told that I'm too much of a work but it still hurts—”

Dean said, “Well the guy is an idiot. You aren't too much of a work, sweetheart.”

Y/N, this ain't gonna work. You want me. I want you but you don't want this hunting life while THIS hunting is my life. This relationship is going to be so much of a work and with Cain on the loose, I don't think I can put that much effort in this. Y/N gave Dean a soft smile, “I don't want to bring up old memories but you also said that, pretty much four years back.”

Sam’s mouth fell open. “What the hell, Dean?”

“W-I? I was under the influence of the mark, Y/N and you knew it. I pushed away so many people. Letting you go was my biggest mistake. And I regret it because I still fucking love yo—” Dean’s mouth snapped shut.

And for the second time, Sam exclaimed, “What the hell, Dean?”

“Yo–love…what?” Y/N whispered.

Dean turned towards his brother, “Sammy.”

“Yeah.” Sam quickly stepped out of the room.

“Y/N. Letting you go was my biggest mistake and never calling you up was my biggest regret. I should have called because I still need you. And now I have this life. You know I start a new job next week? It's a construction but yeah. And it got me thinkin’ about you. Yeah. I was thinking how I fucked us over and never got to tell you the truth. I never got over us, you. I…I never wanted you to go—”

“I remember very clearly you throwing me out of the bunker and telling me never to contact you again. You know what, showing up tonight was my bigges—”

“Son of a bitch, I can't believe I'm fucking doin’ this,” Dean murmured.

“Wha–” The rest of the question turned into a squeak and Dean’s lips crashed into her. And then the thoughts crashed into him. Fuck.

Dean immediately jumped back from her. “I'm so sor—”

“If you dare to say sorry for this, I am telling Sammy to shoot you in your dick, asshole,” Y/N panted, “Fucking come, kiss me, you moron!”

“You sure? You just had a breakup and…”

Y/N looked at Dean, “I know. But Dean, I had kept loving you all along and maybe by some, heaven’s grace—”

“Jack’s grace.”

“Who’s Jack?”

“God. Well, new God. Jack had been living with us…its a long story for another time.”

“Yeah so, by Jack’s grace, maybe it's my second chance at being with you. Loving you.” Dean’s breath hitched at her words, “Your hands are tough, but they are where mine belong.”

So he walked up to her, and pulled her into a loving kiss. It was soft, eager and…just like old times.

They separated but their foreheads touched as they panted for air. “Second chance?” Dean asked

Y/N nodded, “Second chance.”

He smiled, “This time I'll leave no stones unturned to make this work. Because Y/N, sweetheart, you are worth everything.”

Oh boy, I'm kinda rusty XD

Let me know your thoughts! Comments are highly appreciated!

[ladzwriting]

incomplete thoughts about episodes 2 through 6 of House of the Dragon season 2

episode 2!! the acting in this yelling scene after the murder is so fucking good

Otto looks like "the consequences of several poor decisions will now play out in sequence"

Rhaenyra is like, "wow, everyone was right about my unhinged uncle husband, i should've listened" (babe, your husband is a sliding door, no hinges)

Daemon, that's a PRETTY BIG FUCKING MISTAKE, BUDDY

Criston and Alicent match each other's freak (Catholic guilt)

oh is this season going to be the season of mommy kink?? i think this season is going to be the season of mommy kink

Otto "I have made so many mistakes" Hightower: to get fired from a job once is unfortunate, but getting fired from the same position a generation later is quite silly

(no, but seriously what is this man up to? he fucked off from King's Landing and has not been heard from again)

Otto Hightower is the most done man, he is so finished with everyone's bullshit

Mysaria!!!!!! I love her

Alicent "the consequences of several mistakes will now play out in sequence" Hightower

Simon Strong has no desire to throw arms against Daemon, and TO BE FAIR, valid

i got nothing, i just like all the women and the diversity of responsibility bestowed upon them

the peas and poison exchange is good comedy

oh I love Daemon haunted house hours

NEW GIRLFRIEND?!?! (Alys Rivers)

sorry Rhaenyra, you can't yuri your way out of this one

"do you think me capable of such naked deceit?" no, Alicent, but this isn't the first time you've misread a situation

Daemon is too busy being psychologically tortured to send ravens

lamprey pie?!? even Larys is like, "babe, I know you're lying"

Daemon, please don't drink the strange draught from the woman who just told you she's a barn owl...never mind

I think Criston has been dethroned as stupidest man, that award goes to Gwayne now

Vhagar is just a kitten the size of a building

"whose dragon is that??" G W A Y N E JFC

OH DRAGON BLOOD IS HOT?? this fight choreography is so rad

brain is going full "hell yeah monster fight, let's go monsters"

RHAENYS DO NOT JFC

honestly, I'd probably defect if I saw multiple dragons falling out of the goddamn sky, like that should NOT be happening, fuck this entire thing

also no one should be surviving these dragon fire fights, that's too much heat, as fucking metal as they are

hey cole, how are you going to explain that one to your liege? (nice touch having him be really fucked up by what he saw on the battlefield)

yeah, I'm with the smallfolk on this one, fuck that, dragons should NOT be decapitated like that

that canNOT be good for anyone involved

Daemon: "show them your worst"

this is going to go SO WELL (it goes as expected)

Aemond is trying so hard not to volunteer himself for regent, bless him

the currency of orgasms has no place at this council table, much to Alicent's chagrin and disadvantage

"the smallfolk will notice the king's absence"

uh…sure big if true :]

"our fear lies in Vhagar" I DO NOT BLAME THEM

oh my god, they are just straight up eating on a door

idk if they (Daemon and Rhaenyra) are going to finish that last conversation 🥴🥴

I'm so curious what that character returning means for like…anything

I will also point out, it's been like 3 episodes since we heard about the triarchy and that's good, that's when the writing works

the writing works when they're not pretending there's this grand external threat that isn't the madness and ambition within

also it's really cool how most of what's depicted in the opening embroidery has come to pass, I like touches like that

OH I SPOKE TOO SOON ABOUT NOT BRINGING UP THE FUCKING TRIARCHY

I'm going to lose my marbles if it comes down to Caraxes and Vhagar

Alicent earns the restraint MVP award, wow

I was wondering how Daemon chose to remember Viserys, and that's definitely it

Daemon has gone full gothic heroine, full babygirlification

is Alys free on Thursday when I'm free on Thursday so we can hang out when we are both free on Thursday

this liturgical fete for being acknowledged by a dragon is such good worldbuilding

oh this dragon thing is definitely going to go in the same way that like, some kitty tummies are a fucking trap

IT'S A TRAP.gif

MYSARIA I LOVE YOU

"do you take me for a fool?" Aemond, Larys is taking you for a teenager (I typed Varys initially, and man, I miss him)

omg the baby dragons 🥺🥺🥺

I want to go aboard a ship called the Gay Abandon

Rhaenyra deserves to strike whoever she wants tbh

oh I LIKE THIS A LOT (not the part I know is coming, the bit with the provision boats)

whispering who the fuck is Daeron

ok but wouldn't it have been safer to stay in the high sept during the riot???

Rhaenyra, you can become a man if you want to!!

omg of course she goes in for a hug first, USELESS

idk if this is the yuri that will fix Rhaenyra but I'm glad this is the yuri explicit :] :]

I think the thing that keep nagging me about Jacerys Valeryon is that he looks like a thrifted Timothee Chalamet in Dune

all right, onto tomorrow!!

[gabessquishytum]

Another confident-warprize-Hob and shy-king-Dream prompt with a slightly different flavor:

Trans man Hob is a highly sought after courtesan, and he loves his work, which is half of his appeal - he's so enthusiastic and makes it very clear how much he loves what he does. Eventually he ends up gifted to the Dream King, who never has courtesans or warprizes around. He's quiet, and stoic, but seems interested enough in Hob. 

Now the thing is, it's common knowledge that Hob is trans. And he does not tolerate any misgendering or disrespect, but people tend to want to fuck his pussy and he's genuinely fine with that.

So his first night with Dream, he starts off dirty talking about Dream fucking him. And Dream, who was already being pretty shy about the whole situation, is like “Oh. Yeah, of course. :( We can do that.”

And Hob, because he has no fear and likes making people feel good is like “wait, do you not want to?”

“No no, it’s fine, if that’s what you want we can do that I don’t mind.”

And Hob just gapes like “You are the KING and I am your WARPRIZE literally the whole point is we do what YOU want to do jfc what is happening here.”

It’s like pulling teeth, and it takes a lot of persuading that no, really, Hob enjoys all sorts of stuff, Dream won’t be disappointing him (and seriously, what king worries about disappointing his warprize??) but eventually Dream admits that he was sort of maybe hoping Hob would fuck him. He’s got a lovely strap-on, with jewels encrusted on it for texture including some on the interior to rub against the wearer’s clit, that has never been used before. The times he’s been in relationships he’s been expected to top, and he always deferred to his partner’s desires. When he got a warprize, he thought he might finally get to bottom, but when Hob mentioned being fucked he lost his confidence and didn’t want to be inconsiderate. 

Meanwhile, Hob is holding this gorgeous strap-on that’s probably worth more than he used to make in a year and vibrating with excitement. Similarly to Dream, Hob has always been expected to bottom, and he really does enjoy it, but it’s been ages since he got to top and he is ALL ABOUT this.

Dream is still hesitant and unsure, but Hob has enough confidence for both of them, pulling him into bed and giving him everything he can’t bring himself to ask for. They both end up cumming multiple times and by the time they fall asleep they’re both a little bit in love.

(Hob’s goal is to boost Dream’s confidence until he can ride Hob’s cock completely uninhibited, no worries or anxieties, just taking his pleasure until he cums on Hob’s chest.)

-🦇

YES. GIVE THAT MAN A STRAP.

Dream gets out this elaborate box which contains a whole set of beautifully carved, incredible jewel encrusted straps. The harness part is made from the softest leather, and they're obviously the most beautiful objects that Hob has ever seen. He oohs and ahhs over them while Dream sits and blushes and slowly calms down a little bit. He's still shy, but he figures that Hob seems pretty about this turn of events, so maybe it's all ok?

As far as Hob is concerned its more than ok. He picks out a medium sized strap-on from the collection and immediately launches back into the dirty talk while he wiggles into the harness. He tells Dream that he's so good for being honest about what he wanted, and that he's going to make such good use of these pretty toys.

Dream whimpers and wiggles like bait on a hook, almost turned on enough to forget his nervousness. He spreads his legs invitingly and Hob peppers his neck and chest with kisses. The second Hob’s fingers nudge against his hole he just melts, and there's no sign of the cold stoical King left. He's gorgeous, needy, and Hob is absolutely obsessed with him.

The jewelled strap goes down an absolute treat, and Dream writes a letter the very next day to order more toys from the craftsmen who made the original set. When the new toys arrive, Hob takes great delight in slotting a solid ruby plug into his pretty King's hole. He's going to make Dream into a proper little slut and teach him to feel such joy in getting what he wants.

(And if what Dream also wants is to eat Hob out until he cries, well, that's more than ok too. His king deserves a good meal.)

[shehungthemoon]

Just dumping my Ina Paha thoughts here. 🙃

First of all I did NOT know it was the 100th episode going into this, so i was very confused watching the montage at the end lol

I also had to click out and make sure I didn't click the wrong episode when the Pilot started playing at the beginning. When I heard Danny's voice on the phone instead of Hesse's I swear I got whiplash

It's filmed so well (bar where they reshot the pilot where Steve gets Danny on the phone instead of a dead dad, in which they literally forgot to put the same filter over the scene to make the stitching coherent) and I absolutely love the camera work they did with the white-room and the video projections. It felt very much a level above normal network television cinematography, especially the parts where Steve's going in and out of the hallucinations.

Steve finally FINALLY killing Wo-Fat was so cathartic, it should have happened ages ago but I'm willing to look past all the dumb ways he survived just to allow this incredible ending to his story.

Ina Paha gave me Kono doing... this. I owe Grace Park my whole life. Pls costuming department put her in hot pink again 💗

yes, it was a Steve episode. but Danny REALLY shone, first as the only resident Actual Detective figuring out what happened to Steve by the tire-tracks, rampaging through the compound steadily and efficiently and knocking people off without a pause, and then in Steve's mind shooting Hesse's kneecaps off?!?!?! That was CRAZY and probably not suppose to be as hot as it was and definitely made me want an ex-mobster AU immediately. Basically I have a competency kink and really like badass!danny shit 😊

Seeing Chin's long hair again made me swoon

My jaw dropped when I saw Jenna! I think it's really interesting that Steve still thinks of her so much, and I was surprised that she showed up in both the actual dreams and the montage. I definitely underestimated how much she impacted Steve's life, it seems, and I hate that we'll never hear him address that and we'll only know about it inadvertently like this.

(hand over the heart for how lori got like. one team shot. poor girlie.)

⭐I took the montage at the end as being flashbacks and memories that Steve was having as he left the compound. Looking at it through that lens certainly makes one unwell.

Obligatory squeal for Adam appearing just to save the day :))) look below to see the love of my life! :)))))) ⬇⬇⬇

Of course, the obligatory mcdanno bullet(s). It writes itself! The way Danny said Steve's name so small and broken when he found him. The way they look at each other on the ground, the pain their faces. I need an official apology statement from Scott and Alex for it. Can we talk about what flashes by during the montage at the end? (IMO it being Steve's memories.) So much Danny.

The first thing is Danny and Steve's first meeting. Jfc. The showrunners milk it SO MUCH and who's complaining

The big, rocking hug. The hands clasping underground. Gracie of course. And then Danny collapsing from the bioweapon, which to be honest I was NOT expecting to see at all--it felt like a genuinely strange choice to include in there and it really ONLY makes sense if you go along with all that being what Steve's remembering. Even then, I was surprised to see it, so basically this is Hawaii Five-Oh making mcdanno gayer than even I was wanting them to be. Steve still thinks about that? From so long ago? Even with so many other close calls in between then and now? Good fucking lord ok then loverboy that's WILD. Canon accepted ig this show is just pure whump.

Danny goes through all of this just days after losing his brother and killing Reyes. JFC can we please address that. I need a 30k introspection fic to let me into this man's mind rn.

The Wo Fat v.s. Steve fight at the end was INCREDIBLE. I would love to give the choreographer's hand a shake, it's some of the best work I've seen on television in a long time. It was impressive for a procedural like this. It was long and physical and you truly didn't know what the outcome was going to be; it everything that their built-up relationship deserved for a conclusion. It also happening with a Steve coming off of hours of torture and drugging was crazy (guess we finally know who would win a PVP if they were both at full strength!). That being said I was really impressed with Wo Fat's capabilities and physical prowess, I was not expecting it to be so even and close to the line. I actually jumped when Steve LIFTED him up into the lighting fixture. We do not talk about Steve's (Alex's???) raw upper-body strength enough.

Anyway. Electricity in the water play. The physicality hell that this gif below is ⬇. Fire extinguishers and loaded needles. Crazy martial arts. Chair and buckets (holy shit did y'all see the force with which Wo Fat SHOT that bucket?????) flying. All's fair. I loved it.

The shot going right through the forehead, clean. I don't know how to put into words why that's so monumental to me but it is.

The mystery bad lady was SO intriguing, I wish we got more from her... How does she know Wo Fat? Why was she entrusted with all that information on him and Steve and especially Doris? Absolutely where did she come from, what was her name? Why did I have a huge huge hot crush on her? All important questions. (Goes to show that h50 CAN give us some more genuine badass, not just there to date someone women characters, just explicitly choose not to. I'm holding out for Ellie to remain platonic so hard right now.)

Almost forgot Danny in that black Hawaiian shirt. Will be whimpering over that image forever. The whole episode I was trying to focus on the underlining betrayal mystery they were laying out but every time my brain started working too hard Scott with his stupid waist and those flower patterns just started flashing into my head

Again, are you seeing this:

I'm unwell and so so happy.

H50 you're a gem when you want to be.