#but who cares it's definitely python

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

MDZS x Brazil (1985)

(Yes. Real movie dialogue)

[mostlysignssomeportents]

What kind of bubble is AI?

My latest column for Locus Magazine is "What Kind of Bubble is AI?" All economic bubbles are hugely destructive, but some of them leave behind wreckage that can be salvaged for useful purposes, while others leave nothing behind but ashes:

https://locusmag.com/2023/12/commentary-cory-doctorow-what-kind-of-bubble-is-ai/

Think about some 21st century bubbles. The dotcom bubble was a terrible tragedy, one that drained the coffers of pension funds and other institutional investors and wiped out retail investors who were gulled by Superbowl Ads. But there was a lot left behind after the dotcoms were wiped out: cheap servers, office furniture and space, but far more importantly, a generation of young people who'd been trained as web makers, leaving nontechnical degree programs to learn HTML, perl and python. This created a whole cohort of technologists from non-technical backgrounds, a first in technological history. Many of these people became the vanguard of a more inclusive and humane tech development movement, and they were able to make interesting and useful services and products in an environment where raw materials – compute, bandwidth, space and talent – were available at firesale prices.

Contrast this with the crypto bubble. It, too, destroyed the fortunes of institutional and individual investors through fraud and Superbowl Ads. It, too, lured in nontechnical people to learn esoteric disciplines at investor expense. But apart from a smattering of Rust programmers, the main residue of crypto is bad digital art and worse Austrian economics.

Or think of Worldcom vs Enron. Both bubbles were built on pure fraud, but Enron's fraud left nothing behind but a string of suspicious deaths. By contrast, Worldcom's fraud was a Big Store con that required laying a ton of fiber that is still in the ground to this day, and is being bought and used at pennies on the dollar.

AI is definitely a bubble. As I write in the column, if you fly into SFO and rent a car and drive north to San Francisco or south to Silicon Valley, every single billboard is advertising an "AI" startup, many of which are not even using anything that can be remotely characterized as AI. That's amazing, considering what a meaningless buzzword AI already is.

So which kind of bubble is AI? When it pops, will something useful be left behind, or will it go away altogether? To be sure, there's a legion of technologists who are learning Tensorflow and Pytorch. These nominally open source tools are bound, respectively, to Google and Facebook's AI environments:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/18/openwashing/#you-keep-using-that-word-i-do-not-think-it-means-what-you-think-it-means

But if those environments go away, those programming skills become a lot less useful. Live, large-scale Big Tech AI projects are shockingly expensive to run. Some of their costs are fixed – collecting, labeling and processing training data – but the running costs for each query are prodigious. There's a massive primary energy bill for the servers, a nearly as large energy bill for the chillers, and a titanic wage bill for the specialized technical staff involved.

Once investor subsidies dry up, will the real-world, non-hyperbolic applications for AI be enough to cover these running costs? AI applications can be plotted on a 2X2 grid whose axes are "value" (how much customers will pay for them) and "risk tolerance" (how perfect the product needs to be).

Charging teenaged D&D players $10 month for an image generator that creates epic illustrations of their characters fighting monsters is low value and very risk tolerant (teenagers aren't overly worried about six-fingered swordspeople with three pupils in each eye). Charging scammy spamfarms $500/month for a text generator that spits out dull, search-algorithm-pleasing narratives to appear over recipes is likewise low-value and highly risk tolerant (your customer doesn't care if the text is nonsense). Charging visually impaired people $100 month for an app that plays a text-to-speech description of anything they point their cameras at is low-value and moderately risk tolerant ("that's your blue shirt" when it's green is not a big deal, while "the street is safe to cross" when it's not is a much bigger one).

Morganstanley doesn't talk about the trillions the AI industry will be worth some day because of these applications. These are just spinoffs from the main event, a collection of extremely high-value applications. Think of self-driving cars or radiology bots that analyze chest x-rays and characterize masses as cancerous or noncancerous.

These are high value – but only if they are also risk-tolerant. The pitch for self-driving cars is "fire most drivers and replace them with 'humans in the loop' who intervene at critical junctures." That's the risk-tolerant version of self-driving cars, and it's a failure. More than $100b has been incinerated chasing self-driving cars, and cars are nowhere near driving themselves:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/09/herbies-revenge/#100-billion-here-100-billion-there-pretty-soon-youre-talking-real-money

Quite the reverse, in fact. Cruise was just forced to quit the field after one of their cars maimed a woman – a pedestrian who had not opted into being part of a high-risk AI experiment – and dragged her body 20 feet through the streets of San Francisco. Afterwards, it emerged that Cruise had replaced the single low-waged driver who would normally be paid to operate a taxi with 1.5 high-waged skilled technicians who remotely oversaw each of its vehicles:

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/11/03/technology/cruise-general-motors-self-driving-cars.html

The self-driving pitch isn't that your car will correct your own human errors (like an alarm that sounds when you activate your turn signal while someone is in your blind-spot). Self-driving isn't about using automation to augment human skill – it's about replacing humans. There's no business case for spending hundreds of billions on better safety systems for cars (there's a human case for it, though!). The only way the price-tag justifies itself is if paid drivers can be fired and replaced with software that costs less than their wages.

What about radiologists? Radiologists certainly make mistakes from time to time, and if there's a computer vision system that makes different mistakes than the sort that humans make, they could be a cheap way of generating second opinions that trigger re-examination by a human radiologist. But no AI investor thinks their return will come from selling hospitals that reduce the number of X-rays each radiologist processes every day, as a second-opinion-generating system would. Rather, the value of AI radiologists comes from firing most of your human radiologists and replacing them with software whose judgments are cursorily double-checked by a human whose "automation blindness" will turn them into an OK-button-mashing automaton:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/23/automation-blindness/#humans-in-the-loop

The profit-generating pitch for high-value AI applications lies in creating "reverse centaurs": humans who serve as appendages for automation that operates at a speed and scale that is unrelated to the capacity or needs of the worker:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/04/17/revenge-of-the-chickenized-reverse-centaurs/

But unless these high-value applications are intrinsically risk-tolerant, they are poor candidates for automation. Cruise was able to nonconsensually enlist the population of San Francisco in an experimental murderbot development program thanks to the vast sums of money sloshing around the industry. Some of this money funds the inevitabilist narrative that self-driving cars are coming, it's only a matter of when, not if, and so SF had better get in the autonomous vehicle or get run over by the forces of history.

Once the bubble pops (all bubbles pop), AI applications will have to rise or fall on their actual merits, not their promise. The odds are stacked against the long-term survival of high-value, risk-intolerant AI applications.

The problem for AI is that while there are a lot of risk-tolerant applications, they're almost all low-value; while nearly all the high-value applications are risk-intolerant. Once AI has to be profitable – once investors withdraw their subsidies from money-losing ventures – the risk-tolerant applications need to be sufficient to run those tremendously expensive servers in those brutally expensive data-centers tended by exceptionally expensive technical workers.

If they aren't, then the business case for running those servers goes away, and so do the servers – and so do all those risk-tolerant, low-value applications. It doesn't matter if helping blind people make sense of their surroundings is socially beneficial. It doesn't matter if teenaged gamers love their epic character art. It doesn't even matter how horny scammers are for generating AI nonsense SEO websites:

https://twitter.com/jakezward/status/1728032634037567509

These applications are all riding on the coattails of the big AI models that are being built and operated at a loss in order to be profitable. If they remain unprofitable long enough, the private sector will no longer pay to operate them.

Now, there are smaller models, models that stand alone and run on commodity hardware. These would persist even after the AI bubble bursts, because most of their costs are setup costs that have already been borne by the well-funded companies who created them. These models are limited, of course, though the communities that have formed around them have pushed those limits in surprising ways, far beyond their original manufacturers' beliefs about their capacity. These communities will continue to push those limits for as long as they find the models useful.

These standalone, "toy" models are derived from the big models, though. When the AI bubble bursts and the private sector no longer subsidizes mass-scale model creation, it will cease to spin out more sophisticated models that run on commodity hardware (it's possible that Federated learning and other techniques for spreading out the work of making large-scale models will fill the gap).

So what kind of bubble is the AI bubble? What will we salvage from its wreckage? Perhaps the communities who've invested in becoming experts in Pytorch and Tensorflow will wrestle them away from their corporate masters and make them generally useful. Certainly, a lot of people will have gained skills in applying statistical techniques.

But there will also be a lot of unsalvageable wreckage. As big AI models get integrated into the processes of the productive economy, AI becomes a source of systemic risk. The only thing worse than having an automated process that is rendered dangerous or erratic based on AI integration is to have that process fail entirely because the AI suddenly disappeared, a collapse that is too precipitous for former AI customers to engineer a soft landing for their systems.

This is a blind spot in our policymakers debates about AI. The smart policymakers are asking questions about fairness, algorithmic bias, and fraud. The foolish policymakers are ensnared in fantasies about "AI safety," AKA "Will the chatbot become a superintelligence that turns the whole human race into paperclips?"

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/27/10-types-of-people/#taking-up-a-lot-of-space

But no one is asking, "What will we do if" – when – "the AI bubble pops and most of this stuff disappears overnight?"

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/19/bubblenomics/#pop

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

--

tom_bullock (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/tombullock/25173469495/

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

"HALLOWEEN PARTIES"

EXTRA CONTENT- "BEYOND THE HOURS"

→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader → warnings: strong language, mentions of breeding kink, mentions of possible future pregnancy, lots of suggestive conversation and making out. not edited. upside down does not exist, minors dni → wc: 9.9k+ → a/n: @take-everything-you-can plagued me with thoughts of what our idiots would get up to on halloween, and i just couldn't help myself. it definitely spiraled out of control though. my bad. ALSO, QUICK DISCLAIMER: please if you get a snake don't do what reader and eddie did. snakes a homebodies. we are just going to pretend it's okay in this context for the name of fiction, alright? obligatory snake owner ramble over. let's GO.

enjoy the main story's masterlist here

The thumping of the bass was audible before you’d even exited the elevator fully. 

Any other day of the year, you’d assume your group of friends would be earning an instant noise complaint for the volume of the music coming from behind Steve and Robin’s apartment front door. But it wasn’t just any other day – it was Halloween, and somewhere amongst the rhythm of what surely had to be Steve blasting Abba, you could make out fellow neighbors playing music just as loudly. 

If anything, the overly quiet apartments were more concerning than the noisy ones. 

“Do you think Lestat is going to do okay with the music?” Eddie suddenly frets, one hand reaching to tug on what little fabric there was of his costume. It almost made you smile, a reminder of what exactly your usually ‘scary’ boyfriend was donning. 

Britney Spears, circa 2001. One of her most iconic VMA performances. 

He’d decided it the moment you two had come home several months ago with the most important accessory that was draped around his neck – a juvenile ball python named Lestat, who looked surprisingly content as he hung onto Eddie’s shoulders. 

“I don’t know,” you hum, looking over at Eddie, a little bit concerned now that he’d brought it up, “Maybe it’s a bad idea-”

“I’m texting Nance to turn the music down.” 

“What if it freaks him out?” 

“It’ll be fine.” 

“What if he gets stressed and bites you, Eddie?” 

To any onlooker, the sight of you might have been a bit funny. Furrowed brows, arms crossed, sticky blood spread out across your stomach and sternum. 

The theme tonight for the two of you had been iconic performances. Eddie insisted, and part of you knew he was just afraid to dress up so extravagantly all alone when it came to this small get-together, but you hadn’t hesitated to pull together your own version of Lady Gaga’s iconic VMA performance from 2009. If you two were going to commit to a theme this year, you were committing. 

Eddie balances his phone in one hand, typing with a single thumb. Impressive, given his history of ardently avoiding owning a smart phone. His other hand trails up to his collarbone, sneaking a careful finger below Lestat’s head, holding him up and pouting his lip a little, “This little guy? Biting me? He would never.” 

The sight was cute. Obnoxiously, overly, endearingly cute. 

“He’s still a snake,” you try to argue, stopping right outside of apartment 34C. The music was more clear now as it switched from whatever Abba tune had been playing to Maneater by Nelly Furtado, “If he gets scared enough, he might.” 

“I’d hardly call him a snake,” Eddie snorts, shoving his phone back into his pocket, smiling as he tilts his chin to awkwardly stare at the snake now carefully slithering over his knuckles, “Dude misses the mice on his first strike every time we feed him. And if there was ever a time he was going to bite me, it would have been when I was taking that moss out of his mouth as he was eating.”

That earns a huff of a laugh from you as well. The image of Eddie on Monday night, absolutely losing his mind as he’d noticed that Lestat had gotten his mouse entangled in some of the moss decorating his enclosure, not even hesitating to open the tank once more and throw his hand in right along with the tongs to prevent your new ‘son’ from ingesting it, crosses your mind. It hadn’t mattered how much you reassured him that it was probably normal in the wild, that Lestat’s body could certainly handle it. Eddie had been insistent and blinded by what could only be described by paternal instinct. 

If you’d asked yourself last Halloween if that had been where you see your life heading in a year’s time, you would have rolled your eyes. 

“You do realize how dumb that was of you, right?” you insist, remembering your fear and the way your breath had caught in the moment. It was funny now, but you’d never gripped onto Eddie’s shoulder tighter than when he’d recklessly done so. You loved the snake, you really did, but you’d realized in that moment you might still love Eddie just a little bit more. 

The conversation is cut short as it’s clear that Nancy had received Eddie’s text, the music behind the door quieting a bit along with a change of song. 

Your jaw nearly drops, “You did not make Nancy do that.” 

The opening notes of I’m a Slave 4 U were impossible to miss.

“I did.” 

“You’re an idiot.” 

“Are you gonna insult me the entire night, or let me make my iconic entrance?” 

You don’t get a chance to answer, Eddie carefully passing by you, Lestat’s head bouncing a little as it passes a bit closer to your face than you would have been comfortable with a few months ago. 

The snake, funnily enough, had even been your idea to begin with. Your want, your desperate argument you’d wasted countless breaths upon while getting ready for bed with Eddie. 

It’ll be fun, you’d whined to Eddie as you’d both crawled into bed, we even have the space in the living room. 

Sweetheart, you’re fucking terrified of snakes, Eddie had easily rebuttalled. He wasn’t wrong, but it didn’t stop you from huffing like a petulant child. 

That’s an exaggeration, you argued right back.

Your hands had still shook ferociously that first day of bringing home the snake when you’d been the one to move him from the small container the store had placed him and into the full fifty gallon tank now occupying a fairly large chunk of the apartment’s living room. 

You’re still lost in your head as the door swings open for Eddie right as the first chorus of the song begins. He’s dramatic, fully committed, a glimmer of who he must have been in high school shining right through as he struts confidently into your friends’ apartment. 

A version of Eddie you somehow missed despite never having met. You almost wonder if you would have still ended up here if you’d met then; you almost wonder if you would have still ended up at each other’s throats inevitably, even in those days. 

You probably would have. You secretly hope that it all would have still happened exactly as it has. 

“No fucking way!” 

Robin is the first voice you can hear excitedly shriek out a reaction to Eddie, followed by a sharp hush from Nancy. They’re deeper in the apartment, out of your line of sight. You can hear Jonathan’s muttered response lost in the music, and you can smell Argyle’s presence rather than hear or see it. 

Weed had been expected, but Steve and Robin were strict in their rule of only partaking on the balcony. 

“Yes fucking way,” Eddie responds, clearly giddy. You finally trail in behind him, not necessarily shy but certainly not nearly as extravagant as he had been. You hang back a bit, biting back a grin, just admiring your boy.

All warmth, rosey cheeks spread wide in his boyish grin, eyes bright as he wiggles his brows as Robin. 

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” Robin whispers as she rushes forward, glancing over her shoulder, clearly looking for Steve before she leans it a tad bit closer towards Lestat. 

“Mama didn’t raise a bitch,” Eddie snarkily replies, moving to slowly remove the snake from his neck. 

“Language,” you jokingly scold him, reaching out to take the snake from his hands as he brings it to his chest, giving Robin a closer look at the nearly-glimmering pale scales of your pet. Almost instinctively, he starts to pull the animal away, but once he sees the look on your face, he’s quick to hand him over. “No cursing around our son.”

Nancy finally walks up, still no sign of Steve as she joins your side and Lestat wraps his body slowly around your wrist, “Oh my God, don’t tell me you also refer to this thing as your child.” 

“This thing?” Eddie huffs, more offended than you, “Nance, he has a name.” 

Robin has gravitated towards you now, entirely captivated by the ball python, eyes shimmering as she lets out the smallest gasps and squeals under her breath, “What’s his name?” 

“Lestat,” you whisper, watching Nancy and Eddie grow closer and clearly get more immersed in their own private conversation, “But Eddie wanted to name him Frodo.” 

“Frodo,” Robin chuckles a little, looking at you questioningly as she holds out a timid finger. You give her a nod, moving a thicker part of the snake’s body to face her rather than the head, “Sounds like Eddie.” 

It did indeed. Once the bickering of whether or not you two would even get the snake to begin with had faded, the entire argument of what its name would be had started up. Eddie wanted the snake to be named after his favorite books – you wanted to name the snake after your most recent reads. 

You’d clearly won. At the sacrifice of promising the inevitable first of many cats you and Eddie would eventually have be named Frodo instead. But you’d still won. 

Robin’s eyes finally leave the snake long enough to take in your own outfit, and you hadn’t realized it was possible for the girl’s grin to widen, “Wait - are you dressed as Lady Gaga from her Paparazzi performance?” 

“Oh, my dear Birdie,” you coo out the endearment, shivering slightly as the cool body of the snake continues to slither up near your elbow, “This night is just getting started.”

—

You were right. The night had just begun. 

The first few hours pass fairly chaotically. A languid and rapid mixing of everyone excitedly catching up on each other’s lives, various drinks beginning to be concocted. Some delicious, and some spurring gags from others simply from the description of the hard liquor that had gone into them. 

Argyle had managed to lure many of the group out onto the patio at various intervals to partake in the devil’s lettuce, as he had proudly proclaimed it. Nancy and Jonathan had figured out a way to set up a makeshift karaoke party in the living room, lyrics for songs being displayed on the main TV. And Steve, for all his attentive hospitality as the one of the co-hosts of the night, had remained painfully oblivious. 

Eddie had gone behind his back when it came to bringing Lestat. Steve had made it clear when the two of you had purchased the puppy in reptile form that he wanted nothing to do with the python, while the rest of the group had been easily intrigued – especially Robin. And so once Eddie had decided upon his Britney outfit, the next logical step had been securing Lestat’s attendance at the party. He hadn’t texted Steve - or Nancy, as a matter of fact - but rather Robin. 

The girl hadn’t even taken a minute to respond, overly enthusiastic to meet the snake. 

Everyone had slowly become a part of a more silent bet as the night dragged on, and for once, you and Eddie were on the betting side of it all. The drinks were poured, the weed was smoked, the music was sung along to painfully off-key, and Steve never once noticed the snake that was frequently wrapped around various parts of yours and Eddie’s body. 

The quick exchanges probably didn’t help. When Steve needed your help in the kitchen at one point, you’d smoothly handed Lestat over to Eddie in passing. When Eddie had agreed to join Jonathan and Argyle on the balcony at one point, he’d easily and carefully draped the snake across the nape of your neck from behind the couch. Hell, you’d even spent a good five minutes engrossed in a conversation with Steve, all the while Lestat had been comfortably coiled around your bicep opposite the man. 

As the hours passed by, you found yourself wanting to be caught. 

Your phone pings suddenly as you bury yourself deeper into the leather couch, giggling over Steve’s current rendition of What’s New Scooby Doo?. 

You shuffle carefully to pull it from where you’d wedged it against your hip, trapped weakly by your white bottoms speckled with glittery blood.

WORLD’S HOTTEST BOYFRIEND: I want a cigarette :-( 

You do a double take of the contact name, blinking rapidly before you finally connect the dots. 

YOU: when the hell did you change your contact name in my phone?

WORLD’S HOTTEST BOYFRIEND:  Unimportant. 

WORLD’S HOTTEST BOYFRIEND:  Do you think if I hand Lestat off to you right now that Steve would notice? 

Your eyes flick up as the song ends, Robin having jumped up to finish off the performance with Steve, the two of them a mess of flailing limbs clinging to each other and joyful laughter bubbling out of them for unknown reasons. 

Well, partially unknown reasons. One of them was surely the strange concoction the two of them had chugged at some point in the night that had included both watermelon flavored vodka and green apple whiskey. That had been one you’d cringed and stuck your tongue out at. 

YOU: 50/50 chance. And NOT unimportant btw, what’s my name in YOUR phone? 

Just as Eddie exits the bathroom, Steve perks up at the sound of the door and distant flush, removing himself entirely from Robin’s embrace, “Fuckin’ finally! I have to piss.”

Everyone holds their breath as he rushes past Eddie, but he still remains completely unaware of the snake that Eddie is carrying. 

The slam of the door times perfectly with Eddie’s collapse onto the couch next to you, a shy and guilty grin already gracing his face before you even begin bursting at the seams with continuing the text conversation face-to-face. 

“Seriously,” you waste no time, turning to him quickly and your knee easily overlapping his thigh as you shuffle into a more comfortable position, “When did you change your name in my phone, asshole?” 

He takes his time answering, pulling on the ridiculously small jean shorts he wears as his shoulders quiver with the effort of holding in his laughter, “Words hurt, baby.” 

You hate the way nicknames as simple as baby can send still shivers down your spine. 

“You couldn’t have at least been a little more creative? Like, world’s hottest boyfriend? C’mon, you can be more clever than that, surely.” 

It’s easy to do this, to egg him on and prod at his ego in the softest of ways. It’s also always been a dead giveaway to him that he’s gotten under your skin. 

“My name with a pretty black heart next to it just wasn’t cutting it anymore,” he pouts exaggeratedly, leaning into your space a bit, holding the snake a careful distance away as he looks into your eyes and a suspiciously jubilant look crosses his face, “What would you have preferred?” 

“Something shorter,” you breathe out, feeling some of the alcohol coursing through your veins now, making your headswim as you suck in the scent of his cologne heavy in the space between you, “It’s a bit of a mouthful, if I’m being honest.” 

“It is,” he nods, and his lips spread salaciously, pupils growing just a tad bit wider before he delivers a devastating blow, “But we both know you can take it, can’t you, baby?”

Damn him. Fuck him. Send him all the way down to the depths of Hell, for all you care. 

He’s caught on to a clear game he can play now that you’re tipsy, one that he certainly has the upper hand in, and you can’t tell if the night ending in him winning it would actually spell your loss. You swear, you can already feel his hands on your hips, tearing off the costume you’d spent several weeks carefully sewing sequins into, his lips getting sticky with all the fake blood across your torso, his- 

Huh. Never had you realized yourself to be such a horny drunk. 

“Now I need a cigarette,” you grumble, leaning away from him, trying to break whatever spell he was casting. None of your friends’ have even noticed the interaction happening on the couch, saving you from eternal embarrassment. 

If you’d had less pinot noir and shots of Fireball whiskey in your veins, you’d probably still find the decency in you to be self-conscious at toying with these things in public. Maybe scold him, maybe douse out whatever flames he was attempting to ignite. 

Eddie leans back as well, clearly satisfied with himself as he lifts Lestat up to preoccupy himself by pretending to study the lightened coloring of the snake. Mostly white, with splatterings of a traditional morph at random across the body. The woman who had sold the snake to the two of you had referred to it as a piebald. If you had been shopping with an actual breeder rather than a reputable rescue, he would have cost an arm and a leg. 

Luck had been on your side the day you’d stumbled upon the snake. You wish luck was still on your side tonight. 

Eddie sticks out the tip of his tongue to mimic the snake a few times before he focuses on you again, “You know, we could always see if Robin wants to watch him while we both go grab one.”

You have no clue how the girl had heard him from across the living room, but she suddenly appears at his side, just as eager in appearance as her original text giving the blessing to bring Lestat had been. 

“Did someone say I could hold the snake?” she bounces a bit on the balls of her feet, looking down with utter fascination, “Please tell me you guys just said I could hold the little guy. When you first got him, I did a ton of research so I’d know proper handling tips, and also how to know if he gets too stressed. Also I may or may not have been nervous about how often they bite, but I found out that-”

“They don’t bite,” Eddie interrupts with reassurance, offering a small smile as he looks up to her, “At least, not very often. You usually have to aggravate them pretty badly, or catch them on a really shit day for them to strike.” 

It had been a huge selling point in convincing him. Ball pythons were docile in nature, and they’d be quicker to match up to their namesake by balling up than actually strike out at someone. 

Of course, the day you had been informing of this, you had no idea he was already aware of it. He knew they didn’t bite, he knew the specifics of what a habitat for them needed, he knew their dietary needs – he’d already had an Amazon shopping cart filled with supplies after the first time you brought the snake up to him, unbeknownst to you. 

“Yeah,” Robin nods ferociously, hands reaching out carefully, already more than prepared to take the snake, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Now hand over the baby and go do whatever debauchery you two are clearly wanting to get up to.” 

“We aren’t getting up to debauchery!” you try to defend the two of you, watching Eddie carefully uncurl Lestat from his arm to pass him into Robin’s waiting hands, “Eddie just wants a cigarette and-”

“And you want to join him and probably get in some hot and steamy makeout sessions, right?” Robin finishes your sentence for you, quirking an eyebrow for a second before letting out a whisper of a squeal when Lestat takes to her quickly. His tail wraps around the length of her wrist and you’re shocked as you watch him stay just as curious as he had been while held by you and Eddie. A tad bit more reserved, but no sign of balling up any time soon. 

Eddie stands from the couch, patting his largest back pocket to ensure his pack of cigarettes and lighter are still safely tucked into it, and you know it’s useless to keep arguing with Robin. She’s entirely entrapped by the snake in her hands now, whispering in a high-pitched tone that surprisingly doesn’t seem to bother Lestat. All her coos nearly resemble baby-talk. It’s cute – sort of. A direct mirror of how you and Eddie have been acting at home when you handle the ball python. 

You stand slower than Eddie had, hawk eyes still glued to your friend, “Just- Just be careful, okay? Avoid touching his head, and don’t wave your hands around too much while talking, because it can scare him. He also might try and crawl up to your hair because Eddie lets him hide in his at home, and sometimes he’ll pull on it because it sticks to him, so just-”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie stresses, throwing an arm around your shoulders, giving your bicep opposite from him a quick squeeze, “She’ll be fine.” 

Robin nods, clearly only half listening to the debate as she watches Lestat wander up her arm in clear wonder. 

It sort of does feel like Lestat is your actual human child, as though you’re leaving your toddler with a babysitter for the first time. 

Eddie tugs you deeper into his side, musky cinnamon and boyish charm filling your nose as he leans down and murmurs, “C’mon.” 

A Ghost song starts to thump over the speakers as you allow Eddie to guide you over to the sliding door beside the kitchen, the layout different and even a tad bit nicer than your own apartment. It’s odd, the view of the kitchen being clearer than the living room, the exact opposite of how your home is. 

Home. Even in your tipsy state, even after so much time having living with Eddie and even going as far as to now own a pet with him, the notion fills you with warmth. 

Maybe you’re actually a sentimental drunk. 

As the two of you pass by Argyle, he briefly lifts his head, cherry-shaded eyes peering up excitedly until Eddie quickly shakes his head, making the poor man sink back against the loveseat that he occupies with Jonathan and Nancy. You almost feel bad, but it’s clear Argyle is too far gone to even feel disappointment right now. 

“After you, m’lady,” Eddie chivalrously slides the door open for you, half-bowing and putting on a half-assed British accent as he sweeps his arm for you to exit onto the balcony first. 

“It’s Lady Gaga to you,” you snark as you slip out into the crisp Autumn air, cheeks cooling instantly. 

“Oh,” the door slides shut with a soft thud behind Eddie as he joins you, face immediately covered by the shadows of the evening, “My apologies.” 

It’s nice out. Far nicer than any October has been in the city in what feels like years. The air is refreshing, dare you even say sobering, and the city lights below wink at you as you hear all the distant noises of life. Car horns, children’s laughter, music from other parties. It sounds as though one of the neighbors below is blasting heavy rap, and you swear you can hear the trill of a radio pop song from your left. 

Beer, cider, pumpkin spice – it all fills the air. It’s Halloween, and it’s nice. 

The breeze is electric with all the livelihood, sending goosebumps up your arms as you approach the railing, looking out across a night sky painted some sort of faded cross between navy and grey rather than a stark black of midnight. 

It all turns to static the moment Eddie wraps his arms around your waist from behind you, heavy pack of cigarettes in his palm as his lips find solace in one of the few bare patches of skin on your shoulder. 

“God, I love Halloween,” he murmurs against you, his breath hot as it catches across your costume. 

God, I love you.

You can’t help the cheesy thought as a hand comes up to grip Eddie’s forearm, giving three short squeezes, pulling him just a tad bit closer. But it’s true – Halloween was wonderful, you’d always enjoyed any excuse to get together with your friends and family, but it had never felt quite like this. 

Planning cliche dates during the season, movie marathons spent cuddling up with your other half rather than sitting across on a couch from friends. Kisses in the pumpkin patch. Cider on his lips. Putting up decorations and ending up chasing each other around the apartment, landing in a pile of limbs that slot against one another perfectly. Arguing about which decorations should go on the balcony, which garland to line your front door with. 

It wasn’t a replacement for spending time with your friends. And there were still crude jokes, still bickering over timing of plans and locations to visit. It still felt like spending the holiday with friends – it was spending it with your best friend. 

Eddie Munson. Your best friend. Your boyfriend. The sentiment is unexpected to past you, but so entirely welcome by the you currently enveloped in his embrace.

“I used to insist on spending Halloween alone, you know,” you mumble as his chin digs in the point where your shoulder connects to your neck, vision blurring as you continue to stare out at the tiny busy streets, “Just, like, lay around in my dorm. Watch shitty horror movies on my laptop until I got too scared and had to find some dumb comedy to help me sleep. It was the only day of the year where my roommate sort of acknowledged my existence. She was the one who’d go out, and she’d get all this candy and share it with me.” 

You don’t know the point of your rambling, but Eddie is listening intently anyways. 

You turn carefully in his arms, now mesmerized by how his face looks in the warm glow of the seasonal lights Robin and Steve had put up. Shades of orange flickering across his amber eyes, shadows making all his sharpness in his features more prominent. 

“Talking about it now sounds kind of boring,” you muse, laughing a bit dryly, “The most festive thing I would do was going to the Halloween store with Robin and Steve once they opened.”

“Yeah?” he asks softly, arms still tangled around you, grinning gently, “I don’t think that’s too boring.” 

“It was,” you insist, pressing just a little closer to him, “God, it was so boring. Not going to the store with those idiots – I mean, that was pretty fun. But it was nothing compared to setting up a snake habitat, or carving pumpkins with you. Now I can watch whatever slasher you want before bed, and I still sleep just fine, cause I’ve got you to protect me.” 

His smile matches your own – radiant, proud, happy. 

“Oh, definitely,” he nods once, twice. So sure, ego inflated for the bit, “Any scary men with a chainsaw dare to break into our apartment, and I’ve got you, sweetheart.” 

Our apartment. The perfect ring to it. 

“Didn’t you scream about that spider in our apartment yesterday? Like, full on squeal, hopping up onto the couch, begging me to save you-” 

He cuts off all your teasing, even though it was true, with a kiss. Simple, strong, sure. Fingers dancing under your chin to pull you up to him, meeting you halfway and not even hiding his smile at your antics as he effectively shuts you up. 

“We agreed to not talk about that,” he mumbles against your lips, tasting like the last shot of whiskey he took with Nancy. 

“You agreed to not talk about it,” you pester back, trying to pull away from his kiss. But his other hand comes up, trapping your face between both his palms, and it’s a useless effort, “I just promised to not immediately share the photo of you up on the couch with everyone.” 

Half the words are hardly articulate as his lips continue to nip at yours, struggling from your wide smile and the way your entire body is shaking from your giggles. You can feel the cold metal of the railing brushing your exposed lower back, a breeze picking up that can be blamed for the goosebumps racing down your spine rather than Eddie’s wandering hand. It’s not devourment, it’s not desperation, it’s not Earth-shattering. 

It’s something like mending. Something like a promise. 

Living together, celebrating the holidays together, owning a pet together – they were all baby steps leading to something even brighter in the future. An unspoken truth between the both of you. An inevitable crescendo to all that had been built. 

Eddie whines a bit when you pull away again, but this time, your forehead stays pressed to his. A joint effort between the way you tilt your head and the way his hands press you against him.

“Do you remember the last time we were on a balcony together?” you ask in a low whisper, trying to mimic the same suggestive tone that he’s always been able to put on at the drop of a hat.

You’re not quite as talented as him. You’re actually just a giggly drunk.

His brows furrow, “What? This morning?” 

“No.” 

“Two nights ago, when you insisted Lestat needed to see the moon?”

“No.” 

“Are you talking about the afternoon we had a redo of our pumpkin carving contest? Because I still won again, fair and square, ba-”

“I’m talking about the bet, you idiot.” 

His fingertips press a bit deeper into your flesh, his lips forming a wobbly ‘o’ as he stares down at you, “How was I supposed to know you were referring to that? That was definitely not the last time we were on a balcony together-”

You shut him up with the same courtesy as he had done to you, adding in a roll of your eyes before your hands wrap around his neck to pull him into you. This time, you make it hot and heavy. Lips and teeth and tongues, grabby hands from the both of you making their way across all the exposed skin and scraps of costumes you two wear. It takes Eddie aback at first, clearly not expecting the sudden passion, but he recovers quickly. 

He remembers exactly what you’re referring to quickly. 

Your back collides a bit harsher with the railing as he rolls his body up against yours, not a breath of space between the two of you as he wedges his knee between your thighs. You have no idea where his pack of cigarettes has vanished to, but you don’t care. All you really care about is the way he’s holding you, the way he’s suffocating you, the way he’s watering you. 

It’s hard to believe the garden within that he’s nurtured at your side for the last year was ever something broken. That there was once a time it was nothing more than dried vines and pathetic blossoms begging to see the light of day. Now, the warmth of a thousand suns was gifted to you every morning you awoke to his smile. Every joke, every small caring act, every kiss stolen just because one of you felt like it. You two may have accidentally killed that first plant you bought the week you moved in properly with him, but this? 

You can’t imagine a day where the two of you ever might let this die off. 

His lips break from yours, predictably painting a path along your jaw as he murmurs, “I think I do remember. But, just in case – wanna remind me?” 

And for a second, you almost do. 

All your coils are tight across your body, burning in your abdomen and shaking in your knees, but all it takes is the faintest movement of a shadow to remember all your friends inside the apartment still. 

“We can’t,” you whisper, as if they might hear you in the glass, trying to pry yourself away from him just as his teeth start to graze your neck, “Seriously - we can’t.” 

Eddie chuckles lowly against your neck, and you know exactly why. 

You’d started this without even considering the consequences. 

“Started something you can’t finish, didn’t ya, baby?” 

Oh, damn him. That stupid low and teasing tone. That dimple you can feel brush against your skin as he moves his mouth to the other side of your neck. All the heat in your body travels south, pooling between your hips, aching for him to go against your wishes to avoid embarrassment and just finish this. 

He doesn’t, though. You’re starting to believe he’s less drunk than you are, a clearer mind than your own with far more sensibility than he seems capable of most of the time. His lips leave your neck, his hands finding the polite placement of hovering over your hips. The fog is starting to clear, if only just the slightest bit, and-

You were wrong. So, so wrong. 

He’s not sensible. That wicked hand placement was nowhere near polite. In an instant, he’s latched onto you tightly and spun you around, quickly bending you over against the railing so your chest presses into the metal and the cold sends shockwaves across your entire body. Your ass is pressed to his crotch and one hand holds you securely, tight enough that he can be sure you won’t fall, as the other crawls up your back at impeccable speed to press you further down. 

Immediately, you’re squealing, “Eddie!” 

His laughter is just as loud as all your protests as you come face-to-face with the true height of a three-story balcony, knuckles paling from gripping onto the bars. 

You’d hate him for it, but you feel the security of his palm and knuckles around your waist, and you know he’s not letting you go anywhere over that railing. He’s hardly even allowing your head to hang over it. 

The moment you start to lean back up against his hand on your back, he’s allowing it immediately. There’s no friction or fight as you stand up straight once more, back against his chest and your hands already prepared to swing back to smack him before both of his arms come up around your shoulders and cross your chest. 

“You asshole,” you gasp out, flailing hands deciding to grip strongly onto his forearms as he cradles you up in the tight embrace from behind, still chucking in your ear as you both take several steps back. Your heart pounds, and you’re pretty sure your nails are biting into his skin. 

Maybe they’ll leave a mark – you hope they sort of hurt. 

“Just had to make sure you really do remember that night,” he jokes, trying to lean his head far enough over your shoulder to get a good look at your face, “I think the bars would have been a bit more exposing, though, yeah?” 

Your nails dig in deeper, and his grin widens. 

Bastard.

“What if I had fallen?” you snap, finding it hard to be mad at him. Those damned strong arms around you, the thump of his own heart right against the space between your shoulder blades, that fucking dimple. 

“I wouldn’t have let you.”

If the two of you had children some day, would they have his dimples? 

“We’re both drunk-”

“I’m not that drunk.”

“-And I’m pretty sure this balcony isn’t up to OSHA standards-”

“Oh, it definitely isn’t.” 

“-And you almost left our poor son motherless,” you finish off with a forced scowl, shaking off his embrace to face him properly, “Are you prepared for that? Were you prepared to be a single father?” 

God, you hate his fucking smile. God, you hope if you have real kids someday, they have that same shit-eating grin. 

With a pout of his lips, he steps back up to you, looking down tauntingly, “You’re right, baby. I didn’t even think about poor Lestat.”

You hum, standing your ground, but your defenses are quickly crumbling. Your mind is running with too many thoughts, exhausting itself over everything except the residing anger you should feel at your absolute nuisance of a boyfriend. 

The feeling of being held down by him in that position once more. How the heat of his body had warmed you, and you’d only noticed now that the cool air was attacking your exposed back. Swimming in the visions of what color eyes your children might have, pigtail curls of a little girl with Eddie’s defiance or a little boy who wears his shit-eating grin as he exhibits your same unbreakable curiosity. 

You definitely shouldn’t have drank so much tonight. It doesn’t matter what kind of drunk you are – it was a bad idea regardless.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Eddie’s voice takes you out of your thoughts as he slides his arms around your waist, always needing to be touching you, clingy to a ridiculous degree. 

You weren’t complaining, though. How could you? If given the option, you’d make a home out of his bones in a fraction of a heartbeat as well. 

“Nothin’,” you lie through a sigh, head tilted dramatically, much preferring to focus on the ginger contours of Eddie’s cheeks than whatever future Jack Daniels had been painting in your mind. 

“Bullshit,” he doesn’t hesitate to call you out on it. And it’s not the alcohol fueling his boldness – it’s just how he is. He knows you better than the back of his hand, the roof of his mouth, his favorite songs on guitar. He knows you. “You got this dreamy look in your eyes, and you’re staring so hard over my shoulder, I’m almost scared I’ll turn around to see a ghost in the window-” 

Jack Daniels will be your arch nemesis after tonight, the culprit behind the way the words suddenly tumble out of your mouth, “Do you think we’ll have kids someday?” 

You wait for the air to leave the space between the two of you with the same urgency it’s left your lungs. You wait for a crack in the air, a chasm to suddenly appear. It’s heavy – God, it’s a heavy question to suddenly ask your boyfriend of one year at a Halloween party. You’re both drunk on your friends’ balcony, and you were having a perfectly sweet moment, and you’d just gone and ruined it. And to top it all off, Eddie was still just smiling, and- 

Wait. 

Eddie was smiling. 

The air was still there, filling his lungs with calm breaths. No sign of fear within his twinkling eyes. No chasm squeezing between the stitches holding you two together. 

He’s just smiling. 

“Is that really what you were thinking about?” he quietly asks.

You almost don’t want to answer. You almost want to force out cackles of fake laughter, to double over and face the ground rather than his humored expression. 

“Yeah.” 

Maybe he doesn’t believe you yet, maybe he has to double check before he breaks out into his own laughter. Maybe the alcohol in both your veins is just delaying the inevitable that you’d been originally expecting. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe. 

Maybe not. 

Instead of laughter, instead of mocking you, he keeps a cheery expression as he shrugs softly, “I mean, maybe? I sort of hope so. And, don’t get me wrong, I know a kid is a pretty far leap from a snake, but I’d say we make a pretty good team at keeping living things…. Well, living, y’know? Besides, I solemnly swear I won’t try to name our kids after Tolkien. I’ll reserve those names for the pets.” 

All the air leaves your lungs again, but this time, it’s a little less painful, “What?” 

“Annie’s a cute name,” he continues on, completely unphased. It’s nearly impossible to remember that you were the one who had started such a serious conversation about the future, “I also like the name Parker. I remember you mentioned that one once, right? Something about being able to nickname the kid Pac-Man, I’m pretty sure. I think that’d be pretty sick.” 

And oh, was he right. You had mentioned the name Parker once. Just not to him. Not directly, at least.

The entire ridiculous make-believe scenario had come to you during a girls’ night, after one too many glasses of wine and Nancy bringing up the topic. You, her, and Robin had all spent a good hour coming up with names for children and the best nicknames to suit them. Some had been genuine, and some had been for nothing more than shits and giggles. 

Parker, and the nickname Pac-Man, had been serious for you. Parker Anthony. You hadn’t figured out a second middle name to complete the initial acronym of Pac that night, the rosé eventually getting to you, but you had been serious. 

“You were listening that night?” you breathe out, only feeling slightly betrayed, “What the Hell? I thought you said you were going to put your headphones on and listen to some Metallica to unwind after work.”

“I lied,” he cheeses, hot palms against your barren lower back, “I’m nosey. Sue me.” 

“You could have just joined us, Eddie.” 

“And miss the chance to hear you plot out the middle names of our future children?” Eddie snorts, “Not a chance, sweetheart.” 

He says it so casually, you wonder if it’s possible for a heart to burst from optimism. 

“So,” you pause, take a deep breath, feeling the embarrassment creep back up your throat, “Is that, uh…. Is that a yes? That you do think so?”

Why was it so hard to repeat yourself, to just say the words already spoken? 

Eddie had made it clear you had nothing to lose. You two were on the same page. He hadn’t scoffed in your face, he hadn’t even pulled away at the mere mention of the idea. Instead, he had leaned fully into it, head-first as he slid right into the imaginary future with you. He’d given a name to the little girl with his hair and his spunk, to the little boy with his dimples and his mischief. 

Was it still a little too soon, too fast? Was that where the hesitation was born from? 

It just all felt a bit too easy. After the rocky start you two had endured, this entire last year had just felt too simple. 

Of course, even if the hesitation was sitting there in the pit of your stomach alongside all of your anxieties, all of your waiting for the other shoe to drop, Eddie easily soothes it all over as he gives a slow nod and responds, “Yeah. I do – I really do.” 

And you clearly wear your heart on your sleeve, emotions painted across your eyes and cheeks for him to read clear as day, because he notices that catch in your breath.

“Not right now,” he rushes to add on, “I mean, listen, we’re still adjusting to Lestat. I think I’d like to be a cat dad too, before I even think about being a girl dad.” 

“You’re gonna be a girl dad?” you laugh out without thinking, starting to thaw into a conversation that Jack Daniels had begun but you know you can surely finish with Eddie at your side, “That’s… unexpected.” 

His face scrunches for the first time during the entire conversation, “What? You don’t think I’d be a good girl dad? I already deal with my rat’s nest of hair, so I know I’d be at least decent at braiding. And can you imagine getting to take a mini-you to shows, or buying her some cute unicorn helmet once she’s old enough to ride ol’ Nightfury? God, I think I might die from cuteness overload…”

Your cheeks are aching, ears ringing with his words. But all you can do is latch onto one little phrase: mini-you. 

Here you were, picturing duplicates of Eddie bounding around the two of you, and you hadn’t considered what he might be seeing. 

Not a child with his spunk. No, he’s seeing a little girl with your wit. A little boy with your stubbornness. Those eyes of his, nearly resembling heart-shapes at this point, weren’t wanting to see carbon copies of his whiskey irises. He wanted yours to be looking back up at him. 

Hearts clearly can’t burst from an overload of optimism, of happiness. Yours beats wildly as proof, still intact behind your ribs that bloom with rosebuds for the boy pressed to your front. 

“Mini-me?” you murmur, making him trail off, focused entirely on you so sincerely you could choke up. You shake your head, letting out a soft huff of air, smiling down at the ground, “No, I- I think you’ll be an amazing dad, Eddie. I just didn’t…. I just forgot…”

“That I’m with you all the way?” he finishes your sentence for you, one eyebrow arched as he gives a squeeze to one of your hips, “You could decide tomorrow you don’t even want to talk about having a kid ever again, that you’d rather get ten more snakes and live as some sort of cryptic couple somewhere in the Midwest the rest of our lives, and I’d be just as excited. I don’t really care where we end up, sweetheart – I just care that it’s with you,” You can no longer tell if it’s his words or the remnants of alcohol in your system that has you tearing up. All you know is that you are, and it’s ridiculous, but it’s fine, because all you see are dark brown eyes and entire realms of possibility in front of you, “Girl dad, snake dad, cat dad – whatever you need from me, I’m your guy.”

When the first tear falls, you're quick to shoot one hand up to your cheek in order to swipe it away as the other reaches out blindly to smack Eddie softly, “Shut up. Stop being cheesy. I’m too drunk for this.” 

“You’re right,” he nods ferociously, taking over the duty of wiping away your tears without so much as mentioning it, “Wanna make out again instead?” 

You let out a snort, and it eggs him on. 

“Or, hey,” his eyes light up, some of the seriousness of the moment fading naturally, “Maybe we ditch this party and start practicing. You know, in case we still want kids someday.” 

His pupils widen a bit, and you know surely that it’s only half a joke. You don’t miss the way his breathing picks up at the thought.

“Careful, big boy,” you tease, leaning into his feathery touch on your cheek, relishing the way the nickname draws him under your spell even when you aren’t saying it with an ounce of gravity, “It’d be awfully dangerous to get yourself worked up in such short shorts.” 

Saying it outloud almost makes you want to see it, genuinely. 

“Worked up?” he scoffs, backing up a little, caught off-guard, “Who says I’m getting worked up? I’m not getting worked up.” 

It doesn’t matter how many steps back he takes from you, you still follow, your palm still lands dead center on his chest as you roll your eyes, “Right. Because I’m totally meant to believe that the guy who used to jack off to Playboy magazines with girls who looked like me isn’t going to pop a boner at the thought of fucking a baby into me-”

He shuts you up with a kiss. Nearly more resembling a bite, his canines digging right into your bottom lip as he pulls you forward and collapses back against the glass door behind him. 

No words are spoken, no subtle interruptions for this kiss. Toying a dangerous line, dancing along a narrow cliff, and he’s the one who’s decided to drag the two of you off of it. 

You don’t mind. You’d follow him to the ends of the world if he asked you to. 

When one of his hands reaches up to your scalp, tugging at the roots of your hair for no other reason than he can, your mouth opens up into a silent laugh. An invitation, a jeer, a challenge. A quiet whisper of go ahead, do it. Consume me already. 

He’s already everything to you. He’s already a definition of home thinly veiled with skin and bones, a future with a heartbeat. 

His tongue down your throat doesn’t change the matter. Just reclaims it. 

A whine is lost in translation somewhere from the back of your throat and right into his cheeks. His right hand wraps around some of the skin of one of your thighs, encouraging it to lift up to his hip, and you can still feel the memory of his usual rings imprinting into your skin. A permanent tattoo, a ghost of a feeling that’ll haunt you for all time – you love it. You want to live there forever, right here in this haunted house, collecting memories and dust of all that he is. 

Haunted houses are only lonely when you’re left to wander these halls all by yourself, and you think he’d truly cross over into the actual afterlife rather than leave you like that. 

The kiss is almost enough to forget where you are and who’s waiting on you inside the apartment. It’s almost enough to have you recreating that fateful night from over a year ago, to let him bend you back over this balcony railing again, and this time, any squeals you let out won’t be of fear. You’d face that fall head on.

His hot hands on your waist, his tongue in your cheek, his knee once again pressed between your inner thighs. Him, him, him-

A sharp rap sounds on the sliding door behind Eddie, and you’ve never jumped apart faster. 

It’s Robin and Nancy at the door, Lestat happily wrapped around Robin’s forearm as she waves and points eagerly to him and Nancy simply crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow as though she might have been a disappointed mother rather than a friend at the moment. 

You done? Robin mouths, exaggerating her silent enunciation. 

As you nod, Eddie only deeply sighs, throwing his head back against the glass with a soft thump. Nancy is quick to throw out a palm against the glass and tap back at him, mimicking swatting him for his theatrics. 

Eddie pays no mind to Nancy’s retaliation, or maybe he just doesn’t see it, as he whines out, “I didn’t even get my cigarette.”

“Oh, cut it out, drama queen,” you snicker, trying to hide all your breathlessness as you fully pull away, “We’ve left our son alone long enough. You can chainsmoke to your heart’s desire once we get back home.” 

You’re already walking towards the door, Nancy and Robin having retreated further into the kitchen, when he catches your wrist to tug you back close to him. He leans down, deliberate and careful to make sure his lips catch against the lobe of your ear, whispering soft as night, “Can’t chainsmoke if I’m too busy fucking a baby into you, sweetheart.” 

It feels like someone’s poured literal fire across your body. As if flames have been dumped over the crown of your head, and are licking their pathway down your spine. 

“Eddie.” 

If you don’t get inside within the next ten seconds, you’re definitely going to make a decision you regret. 

He’s chuckling the entire time he steps around you, opening the door and waving for you to slip inside in front of him. Your entire body is still burning so violently, you barely register the way his fingers hang at his side and make a point to brush the back of your thigh when you pass him. 

Bastard, you want to snipe, but instead you just smile. 

—

The next morning, you’re awoken by the incessant pinging of your phone. 

You try to ignore it at first, burying your head deeper beneath the covers as a headache pulses at the edges of your mind, but after the fifth ping, it becomes impossible. 

“Who the fuck is texting us this early?” Eddie’s muffled voice complains into his pillow, facedown with one arm thrown across you securely. 

You can even feel him kick his bare legs in a show of defiance next to yours at the edge of the bed. If it wasn’t for the late night prior catching up to you, it’d be something sweet to laugh at. 

“What time is it?” you croak, scooching further up the bed, making Eddie’s arm around you only tighten. As if he can stop you from getting out of bed, or delay the inevitable by resisting you checking the phone, “Is it even early?” 

His free arm that had been tucked below his pillow flings out to the bedside table quickly, grabbing blindly for at least one of your phones. It doesn’t really matter if it’s yours or his; he’s got the password to both. 

“It’s eight in the fucking morning,” he curses, seeming more awake as he notices that he was right in it being early. “How in the fuck is anyone up right now? We didn’t leave until nearly three.”

His arm is finally loose enough for you to sit up properly, tugging the comforter with you to keep your bare chest covered, “Lemme see it.” 

“If it’s Harrington, can you post my bail for murder?” 

“You’re not killing Steve,” you nonchalantly reply as you snatch the phone right out of his hand. It had been yours, unsurprisingly. You don’t even know if Eddie remembered to put his own phone on the charger before the two of you had promptly passed out. You hardly even remember how you managed to do so, “But – yeah, it’s Steve.” 

“Fucking Harringt-”

“And Robin. And Jonathan.” 

“Have I mentioned I hate our friends?” 

The fog of sleep has officially lifted for you, and despite the wave of fatigue and aching joints you’d argue you’re far too young to be experiencing right now, you smile at your grumpy boyfriend. He exchanges his pillow for your stomach, shoving his entire cheek tightly to you as his arms wrap around you slowly. Clinging to you like a child, squinting against what little light pours in through the curtains. 

“You don’t hate them,” you murmur, holding the phone in one hand to get a better look at the phone as the other cards through his curls, “You hate mornings.” 

He hmphs in agreement, relaxing against your makeshift scalp massage. 

DINGUS: WHY THE FUCK IS THERE A PHOTO OF ME WITH A SNAKE IN THIS CHAT? 

BIRDIE: it is too early to be yelling

DINGUS: oh my bad

DINGUS: WHY THE FUCK DID YOU, ROBIN, SEND A PHOTO OF A SNAKE IN THIS FUCKING CHAT? WHO’S FUCKING SNAKE IS THAT?

You can’t help the gasp that leaves your mouth as you begin to see what the entire commotion was, and Eddie is lifting his head immediately.

“What?” he questions, moving to lift himself up and peer over the top of the phone, nosier than ever, “Why did you gasp? Is someone dead?” 

You scroll up, finding the photo being referred to.

“Not yet.” 

Steve, clearly partaking in another round of karaoke. Eyes glazed over, mid stumble based on the blur. 

“What do you mean not yet?” 

Most impressively, most notably, is the snake around his neck. 

Lestat, without a care in the world, his upper body being cradled by Steve’s palm as your drunk friend appears to be serenading the snake. 

You bite back your smile, eyebrows high as you glance down at Eddie, “You remember when we let Steve sing Taylor Swift while holding Lestat? About… two and a half drinks after he finally noticed we had him, and he didn’t flip out courtesy to all that Absolute vodka?” 

“Oh, fuck me.” 

Eddie flings himself back to the edge of the bed in search of his phone just as another notification pings. 

JOHNNY: I’ll do you one better. I have a video.

You don’t know if you’ve ever watched Eddie excitedly type on his phone faster than he does once he’s read that message, already giggling like a fool long before you can see what he’s sent in the chat. 

LOVER BOY: Johnny, my boy, you can’t just say that and NOT send it.

JOHNNY: Unlike you, I don’t have a death wish. 

DINGUS: WHO’S FUCKING SNAKE WAS IT? IS IT EDDIE’S? 

YOU: i will not stand for this erasure of me as lestat’s mother. 

Eddie snorts and looks up at you with glee as he reads your response, “He’s going to kill us, isn’t he?” 

“Can we be buried next to each other?” you respond with a question instead, looking at him lazily, “We could have matching headstones.” 

“Oh, hell yeah,” his grin is worth whatever Hell there may come to pay with Steve and the Lestat debacle last night, “Should we look up designs or-” 

He’s cut off by the trill ringing of his own phone, watching several messages roll into the groupchat in quick succession. 

DINGUS: who the fuck is lestat?

BIRDIE: the snake, dingus. 

NANCE: As someone who has seen the video… I think Jonathan should send it. 

DINGUS: DON’T YOU DARE

You’re a mess of hoarse giggles, hardly able to look at Eddie for the fear of both of you descending right into a madness of laughter. Like two children staying up too late at a sleepover, the room rings out with all your little noises, Eddie propping up his chin to watch you with the widest of smiles. 

Except you’re not children – you’re just two idiots, in your shared apartment, with your shared snake in the living room and your shared friends blowing up both your phones. 

Mornings have never felt quite as sweet as this kind. 

“We’re gonna hear an earful next time he sees us, aren’t we?” Eddie finally sighs wistfully, rolling over flat on his back, head propped up slightly in your lap. 

“Oh, definitely,” you nod, taking to twirling his frizzed curls around your knuckles this time rather than scratching mindlessly at his scalp, “But who cares? You saw how in love with the snake he was after a few drinks. He’ll come around, sober this time.”

Eddie doesn’t reply, eyes fluttering shut. 

You let the two of you sit in the quiet a bit longer, phones still buzzing with new messages, but the chaos can wait. For now, you just want to drink it in. Rays of vivid sunlight, the silence from the lack of the buzzing AC unit, the birds chirping annoyingly outside the window. You have one foot in relaxation, and one foot in the hangover you know you’ll have to battle once you choose to leave this bed. 

“You know what sounds good?” you question, nearly under your breath. You’re really thinking outloud more than anything, but Eddie still entertains you with a hum in his tired state, “Betty’s.” 

He’s the equivalent of a puppy dog who’s heard the word walk. One second, Eddie Munson is seemingly dead to the world, and the next, he’s perked up entirely. If it wasn’t for his nude state, he’d probably already be out the door with his keys in hand, dragging you right along with him. 

His eyes shimmer despite heavy lids as he asks, “Almond croissants?” 

A small nod, an ever present smile. You recall the conversation from the night before as you look into those deep russet eyes, and you see an entire future of late nights and almond croissants reflected back. 

“Almond croissants.”

[mouwrites]

A little short but you all deserve hugs x

Creepypasta/MH - How They Hug You

Characters: Nina the Killer, Jane the Killer, “Ticci” Toby, Tim/Masky

Nina the Killer

She uses hugs mostly as a greeting

She'll run to you at full with arms wide open, a wild grin on her lips

She practically crashes into you, throwing her arms around you tightly

Depending on whether you opened your arms too as she was running to you, she's either got you in a python grip with your arms pinned to your side, or a bear hug that makes her giggle when you squeeze back

With her cheek pressed firmly against your shoulder, she rocks side to side a little while giving a muffled verbal greeting

She might purposefully stand on your feet if she's feeling mischievous (which she usually is)

And when you tell her to get off your toes she just goes "no 😌"

She holds you for a solid few seconds before pulling away with a grin

Her arms will still be around you, she just leans away a little so she can see your face

She'll stare at you with that lovesick grin for a second before actually stepping off your toes away

Then, knowing her, she'll probably take hold of your hand while you guys do whatever it is you met up to do, even if it was just to unwind at the end of a long day

Jane the Killer

Her hugs are a little more reserved

She doesn't give them out to. anyone really.

But you're an exception :)

She'll give one to you whenever you need it, or just whenever she feels like giving you one

Which is surprisingly often, considering the fact that she doesn't hug anyone else

While she does give the occasional quick side-hug, she prefers a soft and warm embrace with her chin on the top of your head

Even in public—if the girl wants a hug, she’s getting one, she doesn’t care who’s watching

She likes to feel your warmth against her, your heartbeat, your soft breathing...

And she'll tuck her nose close to your scalp, breathing in your scent

It's always a very tender moment when you guys hug

She'll plant a kiss atop your head as a signal that she's about to let go

But she won't let go if you don't ;)

“Ticci” Toby

His hugs are a little bit random when it comes to timing

Sometimes he does it on impulse, sometimes he’s just overwhelmed with affection for you…

No matter the case, his method is pretty consistent

He’ll throw one arm around you, pulling you in first before wrapping the other around your back

He buries his nose in your shoulder, holding your head to his shoulder as well

He’ll take in a deep breath, inhaling your scent

Then he’ll sigh, relaxing against you and loosening his muscles

He’ll stay like that for a moment, eyes closed, just totally relaxed

He might rub your back absentmindedly while he does it too :)

Then he’ll take another deep breath, pulling away as he sniffs

He won’t even acknowledge that the hug just happened, he’ll just proceed with whatever he was doing

Even if the thing he was doing was showing affection for you, he’ll just continue on as if the hug hadn’t even happened

He’s definitely tried to gaslight you about it before: “what? A hug?? I think I’d know if we hugged”

Tim/Masky

I feel like he’d only really hug you when he needed comfort

But he does give quick side-hugs more frequently

Like, you’ll be looking absolutely gorgeous (as usual) and he’ll just have to pull you in for a little side-squeeze and a kiss on the temple

And ofc he’ll tell you that you look nice while he’s at it 😌

But as for real hugs, they usually happen late at night when his thoughts are getting to him

He’ll seek you out, a deep frown on his face as he approaches you

He won’t open his arms to signal he’s going in for a hug, he’ll just get as close as possible and press his forehead against you

He’ll feebly bring his hands to hold your upper arms, and it’s only when you put your arms around his neck that he coils his grip under your arms

He doesn’t squeeze tight; he’s too emotionally tired for that :(

He’ll just hold you gently, trying to lose himself in your scent and the feeling of your heartbeat against him

He won’t pull away for a really long time

Honestly he’ll probably find a way to walk over to the sofa while still hugging

And then you guys fall asleep in each other’s arms :,)

Thank you so much for reading!! Take care lovelies <33

(divider by saradika)

[married-to-google-translater]

Can you please do Janil with a reader that have a pet snake? To be more specific a ball python, they instead of attack when they feel threatened they curl up in a ball and they are actually small besides the name python

Jamil Viper

Jamil feels sorry for your snake.

Because it really can't be "normal" at a place like the NRC.

Who knows where you would store it or how you could feed your little one…

Because Crowley wouldn't really pay you enough.

Jamil would definitely help you take care of your snake.

Sometimes Jamil would bring treats for it.

He would know a surprising amount about them and would be a big help.

Your snake would like him too.

Sometimes it feels like your snake likes Jamil more than you.

However, Jamil would not take the snake to the Sacrabia dormitory.

Unfortunately, Kalim would be one big stressor for your snake.

If Grim doesn't count..

Jamil would also be interested in why you wanted a snake.

And why did you choose this one.

[iamrizaka]

Apollo cabin is know for its archers, musicians and healers.

Every kid gets claimed within three days. No one is born during summer. Apollo meets his mortal lovers during summer, and their kids are born max in May.

Being a healer means you sing an anthem for your father and use your energy. You almost never miss.

Lee Fletcher was the best archer and could shoot ten arrows at once, never missing the target. He could play piano, guitar and violin. He was known for being one of the most caring people in the Camp. He looked a lot like Apollo, with blond curls and green eyes.

Michael Yew was different. Along with Lee, he was also the best archer, having to compete with the former multiple times. Unlike Lee, he could play only one instrument, but he still held the title of being the head of infirmary. He was hot-headed, but still kind.

Will Solace is Apollo's every gift and every fear. Will can't use a bow to save a life and has a voice of a dying seagull. He gets easily annoyed, he spent too much time with Hermes cabin and the Stolls and Luke, and is convinced that he would be a bad counselor.

He fights with a sword, with a knife and with his fists and everything in him. He fights fiercely, looking at the opponent with a smirk and Python-like look in his eyes. He definitely feels himself like one, when he knows he's won.

He looks a lot like Apollo, so it was easy to understand why Lee always watched over him. Watching Luke look out for the boy was okay, too, since Will was in his cabin for a long time and also the youngest camper at that time. But when Clarisse decided that yeah, she likes this guy, the Camp fell into a panic mode.

Will was claimed a year later after his arrival, so people were of course confused on what took Apollo so long. In the end, Cabin 7 was happy for their new little brother.

Unlike his many siblings, his birthday was on the last day of summer.

He excelled in medicine, being the best healer in three hundred years on Chiron's memory. The healers were rare, but the ones who could heal without their parent's help was unheard of.

He also, as it turned out much, much later, has a power to glow and to cause plagues of various types. Another interesting thing - he was causing plagues way before he was healing anyone.

[azurlily]

Can I request mary dating hc’s

Yes and for some reason my tumblr us acting weird and not letting me format things normally. This won't have smut unless specificly requested. Idk here you gooo. Completely UNEDITED.

Mary Satome Headcannons

As a partner Mary acts much like she does with Yumeko. Except kinder, or in some cases meaner. When first meeting you she doesn't know how to act, does she like you or hate you? Does her heart beat too fast and she cant look at you? What's wrong with her?!

Mary's love for you is unconditional, and I truly mean unconditional. She's slightly obsessed, she sees you as being able to do no harm. (Even if you're worse than her.)

As a girlfriend, Mary definitely gives you gifts a lot. She feels the need to make up for being mean all the time, and she sees this as a good way. If you're the type to not accept gifts like that, she will pester you until you do.

As a girlfriend, Mary enjoys holding you hand. She doesn't care about the approval of others as much when she's around you. She trusts you not to hurt her, and this us one of her ways of showing trust. She gives you more than she has and never regrets it.

Mary is still rude as a girlfriend, that'll never change. Although she's rude for completely different reasons. If you happen to not be eating, sleeping, or you just aren't taking good care of yourself. Be prepared to get yelled at, she doesn't care who it's in front of.

Mary does enjoy flirting with you, seeing your face get red and seeing you look away gives her a rush. Sometimes she'll just hug you and/or kiss your forehead. Although those are reserved for private time.

Mary hates when Yumeko hugs you. She'll pull the girl off and hug you, it's almost like a python restricting you. She's more touchy than usual, feeling the (unnecessary) need to stake her claim over you.

As a girlfriend, Mary gamble's against you over stupid things. Unlike Yumeko, the stakes aren't stupidly high. No, she just wants to pay for the date, but if you want to pay this time... well she'll make you gamble with her. And when you lose (because let's be honest you're not that good) you have to let her pay, and deal with the shame of losing.

As a girlfriend, Mary also gambles with you. The two of you will sit side by side, while Yumeko and Ryota sit in front of you. Yumeko and Mary joke about how it's a friendly game, but halfway through you're not so sure anymore. In fact you worry about playing against Yumeko at all times.

Mary hates it when the president comes with a 50 foot radius of you. Not even joking, she'd threaten Kirari over you. Of course she'd be scared as hell while doing it, but she isn't letting that bitch anywhere near you. She also hates Ririka coming near you at first too, over time that changes.

"I dont love you, love is a very strong- I'm lying! Dont cry please- my god!"

There has definitely been a time when she's said something along those lines. You cried and her reaction switched up real quick. She was apologizing like never before, and that memory will be ingrained in her mind forever. She hates the idea of you not loving her, and she hates herself for saying that.

Mary takes you on dates like it's nobodies business! That girl would spend every dime she had to make sure you're happy. Then she'd make the money back by gambling with some idiots. Higher stakes probably, and she'd bring Yumeko to watch. She'd bring you too, but that's so you can see her in action.

Speaking of, as a girlfriend, Mary loves your validation. She literally lives for it. If you tell she did anything right, she's thinking about it all day. Sure, she acts like it isn't a big deal, but Mary treasures you more than herself.

So I'm gonna circle back to the being mean thing. So before the two of you dated, Mary wasn't the nicest towards you. She didn't treat you like a house pet, but she was a bully. She'd made you cry at least once, and while she personally couldn't tell how she felt. Mary knew she didn't like seeing you cry.

Of course, because you has to build trust, Mary has to earn it. Mary had visited you in your classroom, giving you small tips on gambling or maybe even just talking to you. She enjoyed her time with you, and would usually leave the classrooms as red as a tomato. It's not her fault you're so kind to her!

Mary definitely made you gamble her and the agreement would be like: 'you have to do whatever she says for a week if you lose and vice versa.' Mary had pretty much forcer you to go on dates with her, and by the end of the week she'd ask you out. She gave you the chance to say no, but you didn't and that made her all the happier.

After that there were many bumps in the road of yalls relationship, just like any other. You two were ready though, and hell you could maybe just imagine marrying this girl. Maybe.

[3liza]

i think the answer to the medical question you see asked a lot about various trending medical conditions like fibromyalgia, autism, and hypermobility, "why does everyone suddenly have this disorder, this seems fake" is that they just arent that rare and conceptualizing them as "rare disorders" was a simple mistake at the time they were defined. and thinking of them as "disorders" is kind of a misnomer, they definitely cause distress in normal modern contexts but they're perfectly suited to all kinds of other situations, situations i've been in! situations where i was the only person able to ignore hunger or hyperfocus on a time-limited task or make rational and calm decisions while being shot at by cops at a protest because my nervous system is a little different.

at the risk of getting essentialist/evopsych for a minute, there are a LOT of evolutionary reasons 5-20% of the population being for lack of a better term, minmaxed for various tasks, is beneficial. yeah my joints are unstable but i also can climb trees, fit into very small areas like a cat, fold up comfortably in a plane seat, etc. my gastroparesis is constant torture but i also only have to eat as much and as often as your average ball python, and i dont starve to death on a caloric intake that would kill anyone with a normal metabolism. it's really easy to imagine scenarios in the history of humanity where famine or other crises were more survivable because my family had "special abilities" that were a pain in the ass during normal times. creaky knees and the occasional hip subluxation was probably a small price to pay for being able to squeeze through a small gap at the right time, survive hunger and cold, eat less than everyone else, or whatever. people with lipidema are, i think, well-represented in the "venus figurine" record and would have lots of advantages in the circumstances in which they lived.

it's a cold take, social species have always had specialization and labor sorting mechanisms, i just have calmed down a lot in my own brain by internalizing the idea that yeah maybe its harder for me to tolerate going to school than a child without autism, but im better at other stuff than they are, and when we're all in the Human Troop together we are both very useful to each other. which is cool.

you dont even have to do anything to bring value to your family, you can just be there. in general, humans have always taken care of our sick and injured and disabled. anyone who has ever been happy to see someone knows why. i mean we kill each other a lot too but that's also just part of being an animal on planet earth. im just thinking out loud idk.

[nkgrimmie]

I'm sobbing - your domesticated cursors are so cute, I love them so much

Do they come in different colors? Patterns like spots or stripes? Please tell me they make little squeaky noises. Can they 'click'/carry small things? (Imagine if Victim's just carried away some important paperwork bc cursors just like to grab and carry things) Do they 'puff up' when they're scared or startled like cats/birds?

I just want to grab one and give it a big squeezy hug. Give it all the pets. Boop it's cute little snooter point. Put tiny little accessories on them.

*sobs* They're just so cute. I love them. I want twenty of them.

hello hi i have no idea who you are but yes they are wonderful i love them. they are perfect little things

okay now to answer your questions (putting this under a read more cause... good lord i talk a lot)

"do they come in different colors? patterns like spots or stripes?"

yes and no! they can come in different colors of course, and their outlines can be multicolored, but markings on the main body of a cursor is actually very rare! typically it's from either scarring, tattoos (some sticks tattoo them), or just a really weird mutation. alternating colors on the outline is the most common way that "stripes" appear on them

leucism in cursors is very common, with melanism being rarer but still prominent. it's very hard to tell the difference between a leucistic cursor and an abino cursor, until you watch the cursor repeatedly fly into walls or ceilings because they can't really see where they're going.

leucistic, melanistic, pastel

the most common appearances, they can be different colors ofc the gray/dark gray/pinks are just placeholders they just generally keep to variations of that. cursor!alan would be an iris-lined leucistic cursor, while little guy would be a blue pastel leucistic cursor

(also fun fact i based their morph names are based off of ball python morph names)

"please tell me they make little squeaky noises"

kinda sorta. i like to imagine that they mainly make clicking or scrolling noises (l-clicks and r-clicks sound different, as do up-scrolls and down-scrolls), with the occasional glass grinding noise when hurt (the best way i can describe the noises alans cursor made when covered in virabots in the Showdown)

maybe if you scared a baby/young one then it would squeak at you. if so, it would probably sound like moth squeaking sounds! so probably not what you imagined, but squeaking nonetheless

"can they 'click'/carry small things? (imagine if Victim's just carried away some important paperwork bc cursors just like to grab and carry things)"

oh yeah of course. that's kinda what cursors are meant for SKDJD domesticated cursors are kinda small though (like the average adult size is about the size of a house cat) so they're not the strongest ^^' if there's like four or five though they could probably pick someone up hehe

grabbing things and stuff like that is actually one of their main forms of play— they love playing things like catch and fetch and stuff

also the thought of victim's cursor doing that is so funny..... they had to chase it around until it got bored and went to go annoy (play with) someone else

"do they 'puff up' when they're scared or startled like cats/birds?"

the babies (EVEN TINIER) have down that's very similar to the down that chicks have, so the babies would definitely puff up like that. not sure on if adult cursors would do the same since i haven't decided the texture of adult cursors yet (i will say that user's cursors probably do have a very different feel to outernet cursors though), but if they had fur/feathers too then they would probably puff up as well

also.. careful! don't hug them too hard! some of them are sharp, ESPECIALLY the wild ones!

god seeing this ask made me so happy i love talking about things...... sorry i couldn't respond to it sooner i was at work </3

^ i drop this at your feet making puppy dog eyes at you

(mandatory "i'm pretty sure i got the idea of outernet cursors from @axyer [don't even remember at this point] i just expanded upon it for my own version" cause if i don't tack this on then i'll get screamed at /j)

[princesssmars]

wildfire

some starmora x reader nsfw headcanons

wc : 1.162

cw : nsfw content! triad poly relationship (fmf). dom!gamora, switch!peter, sub!reader. some sex position links bc i think they're fun. strap-on sex. anal. pda with butt slapping. masturbation.

an : watched gotg 3 and definitely not broken. new gamora is cool but im always gonna miss og gamora so expect more starmora stuff to come bc im bisexual and sad <3

so lets say you joined the guardians early, peter and gamora already have that spark between them and now you've arrived and thrown them for a loop.

while you and gamora are still mostly trying to deal with your romantic feelings, peter is being driven crazy by his sexual ones. he's not stupid enough to jeopardize the budding relationship he has with the both of you by sleeping around.

(not to say he didn't get tempted, there was this one chick with blue skin, big doe eyes and four arms and-)

still. he's not that stupid. but, he does have needs, so he jerks off. a lot. every time he does it he thinks about the both of you. the feel of gamora's skin when his hand brushed against it that morning, the smell of the new shampoo you pick up on the last planet. even just the memory of you two laughing at one of his shitty jokes is enough to make him finish.

not to say gamora doesn't get herself off as well. i don't think she would have that much sexual experience or at least not as much as peter does. just a brief hook-up occasionally to take the edge off. but when you complimented a new armored top she bought that complimented her arms and peter agreed with that stupidly charming yet sleazy smile of his, she couldn't help but lay in her bed that night and rub her puffy clit until she had to bite down on her hand as she came.

it wasn't long after that you all became official.

in the bedroom, gamora is a dom and peter is a switch. to her, there's something about quill commanding the team during missions and casual settings and being reduced to a man on his knees begging for you to touch him anywhere.

but don't for a second think you're off the hook. if you ever get too cocky when she's dominating peter, she won't hesitate to put you in your place. her favorite way to do it was sitting you on a cushion with a direct view of the bed, your hands bound behind your back with a vibrator stuffed inside you as you were left to whimper and beg as she rode peter into oblivion. she keeps eye contact with you while she has her hand around his threat, teasing you about how flustered you look.

gods help you when they're both in a dominating mood. it's mostly after they got roughed up after a mission or the person who hired you was more of an asshole than usual. on those days they don't hesitate to toss you around like a ragdoll and do with you as they please.

one time you were left behind to take care of the ship while they negotiated with the person who hired you, which must have gone wrong with the looks on their faces when they got back. before you know it you're pressed into an arch on your bed, gamora's hands pushing your mouth and tongue deeper inside of her pussy, as peter grabs your hips and helps you throw it back on his dick.

peter would love positions where he can make eye contact, loves the intimacy of it and loves to see the facial expressions you make. doing the counterblow or fireworks in the pilot's seat, a deck chair, or python in bed when your both craving contact. right before you both cum he'll pull away from sucking on your tits or neck to look you in your eyes, whispering "i love you"'s and "cum for me, cum all over me baby"'s as you both reach your highs.

gamora will take you in any position she can. not to say she doesn't love the intimacy occasionally as well. there have been more than a few times where she gently drags you to her room, places you on the bed, and eats you out agonizingly slow for over an hour before crawling on top of you and slotting herself over you, riding your cunt until neither of you can move from overstimulation. her faves would be 69, eagle, plain, and a full nelson if she's feeling pent up.

oh and gods help you when she gets her hands on a strap-on. she found it in a sex shop on a little excursion to a shady planet for rocket to find some rare materials for an invention. quill had seen it first, practically begging the two of you to go inside with him. while he and you were pointing at different beads and gadgets and giggling at the obscenity and absurdity, gamora is busy stalking along a back wall, looking at the different dildos and harnesses with piqued interest.

when she tells you that she booked a hotel room for the three of you for the night, you can't help but get a little giddy at the idea of another night of pleasure with the two of them without having to quiet yourself by biting or gagging. you don't expect gamora to come from the bathroom, a black harness around her hips with a long and thick dark red dildo attached to it. after she gets your consent and gets you prepped, your body is held up and squished between the two as peter thrusts into you from the front while gamora takes the back. you didn't leave the hotel room for two days.

they are very different in how much pda they like to show in public. gamora is more subtle, still wary to let others know how much you really mean to her, plus she likes to keep the romantic and sexual side of her life more private. she'll settle for soft smiles across the room, brushing her hand across yours when she walks by. if she's feeling devious she'll come up behind you while you're doing something under the guise of "helping you", when in reality she's pushing her entire body against yours and maybe throwing a small little thrust in there too. nine times out of ten it will leave you flushed beyond belief and she'll walk away satisfied.

peter is. a whore (affectionate). he is not afraid to be affectionate with you in public. hand holding, hugging, kissing, etc. you already know he's fond of slapping your ass, and will do it every opportunity he gets. if you do it back to him he will literally go like :0. definitely doesn't get a boner.

their aftercare is unparalleled. while you're coming down from your high, peter will rush to get a rag for you all to wash off the liquids and sweat, while gamora will whisper sweet gentle praises while making sure the both of you are hydrated. no matter how rough or quick the sex was. they will always end it with you cuddling in their arms as they whisper to you how much they care about you. <3

[theamazingmaddyas]

I'm not sure how much the Starkid and Percy Jackson fandom intersect, but I was thinking about the different Starkid/TCB musicals, and which songs could alternatively be used to describe Riordanverse characters, and decided to share. This will probably end up being a part 1, since I'll probably end up thinking of more the second I post this, but maybe not. Anyways, here's my first list (and descriptions):

Not Your Seed (The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals) - Luke Castellan

This was the first one I thought of, and reason for this post. Alice is literally singing about how she's been possessed and is no longer her father's kid, and how he'd never noticed her.

Also the lines:Why does it hurt to love you, why am I in pain? Why does it hurt to know you, you let me down again. If I turned my insides out, would you even know that I was there. Why does it hurt to love you? Why does it hurt to love? Is literally Luke's motive in the series, he's resentful of his father, and it hurts to care for him. Also, And if you wonder what led your daughter astray? Well, daddy wasn't here to stay. Do I need to say more?

CaliforMIA (Black Friday) - Luke Castellan, Thalia Grace, and Annabeth Chase

Thalia: Dearest Gods,

It's been real, real bad. I'd say you tried your best, but I'm not a liar

Luke: It's L I E R, Thal

Thalia: We get it, Luke, you're a good speller

We're taking Annabeth as far away as we can get. I'd give you an address, but I don't want to. Don't write, don't IM, don't ask.

Sincerily,

Thalia

That's all I have to say. Also, that Beryl is, in fact, a bitch, an alcoholic, a meloncholic that Thalia kept afloat.

Black Friday (Black Friday) - Bianca di Angelo

This song is so Bianca-coded, as she reflects on her life and on her relationship with Nico in her final moments. The part that's most her, I think is At first I didn't know what she was to me, at first I didn't know why I cared, or why I wanted, to rock her and hold her to sleep. Did I need her more than she needed me? Maybe I'm wrong, she can go on her own, 'cause I'm leaving.

The way this was probably one of her last thoughts has kept me awake at night. Also, there's the toy store/junkyard similarities and that both Lex and Bianca's 'deaths' have to do with a toy.

The Coolest Girl (A Very Potter Sequel)- Annabeth Chase

The Coolest Girl and My Grand Plan are basically the same song, I have no other notes.

Tonight this School is Mine: Reyna Ramirez-Arellano and Octavian

Obviously, this song is Octavian, he has been trying to become praeter since the dawn of time. I wasn't sure who'd 'run' against him per se, but I chose Reyna solely because we know Jason was raised up to Praeter during war, so Octavian couldn't have tried to vie against him. Reyna, on the other hand, she's barely been at camp for a few years and already became praeter? Octavian definitely had something to say about that.

Guys Like Potter (A Very Potter Sequel)- Octavian and Bryce Lawrence

Instead of being about the want for a partner, change the meaning to be the want for power? This is them to the T. It was probably "Guys Like Jackson" because my man has been at camp for 4 days and is already praeter.

Get into My Mouth (A Very Potter Senior Year) - Literally every monster ever

Self-explanatory, I believe.

The Dragon Song (A Very Potter Musical) - Lester Papadoupalus (Apollo)

This is actually how Apollo beat the Python, he told me himself.

So level with me buddy I can't defeat thee So please don't eat me All I can do Is sing this song for you

Also, the Python never asked to be a snake, and Apollo never asked to be turned mortal. We just jumped on the bandwagon, but all we need is guitar jammin'

If I Fail You (Black Friday) - Hermes

This is Hermes to Luke.

If I fail you one more time, the punishment won't match the crime. 'Cause there's no pain that can ever explain how I let you down. If I fail you one more time, the mountain I would have to climb, is so high up that I would have to die. Oh, I. I failed you once, and I will fail again.

That is all.

Doing This (Spies are Forever) - Jason Grace, Piper McLean, and Hera

I had trouble deciding whether Curt's mom would be Hera or Aphrodite because Aphrodite's well, Aphrodite, but Hera literally changed Piper's memories so she thought they were dating, so she ended up getting the honor.

I mean, the plot of the song is literally two characters, one of whom is canonically gay, thinking they have to be in a relationship before realizing they were better off as friends. That's literally Piper and Jason in TOA?

I guess we're doing this, see that look in your eyes, how can I resist, (Piper)I'm a girl, (Jason)I'm a guy. It's meant to be, because we're both spies, time to move in for this kiss. Just go with it and don't ask why. I guess we're doing this... is Heroes of Olympus and It's great to know we don't have to pretend. (Piper)You're cool with me? (Jason)'Till the end. But let's never do this again. Is them in Trials of Apollo.

To Dance Again (A Very Potter Musical) - Lavinia Asimov

As a tap dancer, I can say with certainty that Lavinia did Voldemort's tap dance for the entire legion, and spent hours making sure the fifth cohort could do the kickline properly. I don't make the rules.

The Witch In The Web (Nightmare Time) - Georgina

The "witch" is Trophonius, obviously, guiding Georgie to the cave in the Dark Prophecy. I feel like this one doesn't need much more explanation.

Rogues Are We and Rogues Are We (Reprise): Kronos' Army

Rogues are we!

Luke is Sweet Tooth in the reprise, obviously.

Adore Me (Black Friday) - Octavian

Also self-explanatory I feel like. Specifically, in House of Hades and Blood of Olympus after Reyna leaves, and he tries to make himself praetor.

I will destroy everything And then I will destroy everything I'll guarantee I'll destroy everything In my path Unless I get what I -

Gerald calling is Reyna arriving.

The Web I Spin For You (Nightmare Time) - Arachne

Do I really need to explain this?

Status Quo (Starship) - Percy Jackson

Percy does push the limits a lot, and doesn't except everything at face value, as shown when he make the gods pay child support.

I kick down the walls around me They don't know how strong I am I'm not defined by boundaries

Yeah, that's Percy.

Beauty (Starship) - Grover Underwood

This song is literally about finding beauty in nature, Grover's whole speil.

If you’re preoccupied with what’s on the outside You get lost in the “how it can seem” But open your eyes and you’ll be surprised To find out how much more something different can mean

It's just wonderful, and so Grover.

Backfire (Firebringer)- Leo Valdez

Leo made a schwoopsie when he blew up New Rome.

That's a joke. I know he was possessed, but also I feel like Backfired is how Leo's brain is when he's trying something knew. I also can see Leo being Fire also from Firebringer, or the predecessor to Backfire, which is What if?

If I Believed (Twisted: The Untold Story of the Royal Vizier) - Nico di Angelo

Just like Jafar being in denial about Sherrazade's death, just as Nico is in denial about Bianca's, and is willing to ignore logic and reason in order to get them back.

Science says you’re dead and gone forever Reason says I’m talking to the air But something in my heart Some secret hidden part Illogically insists that you are there Somewhere

It's how King Minos was able to manipulate Nico so easily in Battle of the Labyrinth, and how the villains were able to get Ja'far to join the dark side so easily.

I Steal Everything (Twisted: The Untold Story of the Royal Vizier)- Travis and Connor Stoll

Want food, but got no money? I'm screwed, or so it would seem That's why I came up with this brilliant scheme

Just steal everything!

Okay, Connor and Travis aren't absolute assholes like Aladdan is in this song, but I found it humorous.

[tehamelie]

Various fine opinions on the meaning of life contained in Monty Python's The Meaning of Life:

*Unionize your workplace, alternatively turn it into a pirate ship and take to the high seas. It'll piss off management either way.

*Question everything.

*Look at what you think you know from a different perspective.

*The pursuit of profit at all costs can and will ruin the meaning of any work and also make you worse at it.

*Gender roles are not necessarily assigned at birth.

*The Catholic church is not well.

"God has blessed us so much I can't afford to feed you all any longer."

*Just because you're allowed doesn't mean you should.

*You should not, and will not, die to "keep China British."

*God has many ways to cook you to death, if He wants to.

*Straight sex is so damn boring.

*Don't just stampede towards the clitoris, Watson.

*Sport, like sex, only works between equal parties. Any other way and you invite horror and depravity. (That kid is definitely dead and the upperclassmen are just stomping on him anyway.)

*Actually, getting murdered playing rugby against adults two or three times your size is an excellent way to prepare you for fighting in a war.

*Even a good captain will be hated by their subordinates. This is the burden of command.

"We'll always need an army, and may God strike me down were it to be otherwise." *is immediately struck down by literal the hand of God*

*A fighting force is better served by a single soldier who actually wants to be there than twenty men who doesn't.

*There's a fine line between keeping one's cool in a heated situation and acting like you're on a bloody different planet when people are dying in front of you.

There are less than 4500 wild tigers left in the world. The "A tiger? In Africa?!" bit is less of a joke every year.

*In less than surprising news, killing people is bad for you. (It turns out, for psychologically healthy people, doing violence really hurts you as much as the victim.)

*Where is that fish?

*Theme restaurants could do with a bit of randomly mixed themes.

*Don't be afraid to ask the most idiotic questions about things you don't understand. That's how we learn.

*Oh ho it's the meaning of liver donation I get it now.

*The Galaxy Song is fun and all but don't give in to misanthropy.

*Matter is energy, the human soul grows with care and attention, and people aren't wearing enough hats.

*Actually, the movie makes a staggering point here and buries it with distracting nonsense jokes, while also making the point that we get sidetracked from self-actualization by distracting nonsense jokes. It's a point sandwich with joke filling.

Isn't it awfully nice to have a penis? Shout out to happy penis havers, though I'm not one myself.

*M Creosote shows us that single-minded devotion to one's mission in life (eating an entire upscale French restaurant in one sitting, for example) will leave you unhappy and alone.

*Dunk antisemites in buckets of vomit.

*Gaston, the middle aged waiter, delivers a coherent personal philosophy as he walks us to the cottage where he was born. The significance of this cannot be overestimated. He decided to be a waiter, you see. Because he believes in something. It's a simple belief of giving, of loving people and bringing them joy. But be believes it with all his heart and he'll fight for the right to live the life he chose.

*If you have to die, but can choose the manner of your execution, try being hounded to death by naked women.

*See the world in a grain of sand, or a maple leaf as it were.

*Terry Pratchett was a great man and a great writer, but he's wrong about one thing: Death is relative. No, no, you can't argue away Death or shoot him, but he is subject to the laws of relativity. Consider the stars in the sky; at least one star that's visible to the naked eye I hear may be dead right now - it's 500 light years away and they think it may go supernova at any point within 500 years from now. But here, locally, the star still lives; there's no possible reality where it's gone until the light of its explosion reaches us.

*Heaven is a fantastically cheesy musical theater performance with angel santa claus strippers and a lead singer you just want to punch. Clearly we need to build something better here on Earth.

*Be nice, read books, take a walk sometimes, and try to live together in peace and harmony with people of all creeds and nations. Obviously.

*[The producers] hope that other fish will follow [the example of the movie] so that, in future, fish all over the world will live together in harmony and understanding, and put aside their petty differences, stop hunting and eating each other and live for a brighter, better future for all fish and those who love them. Yes, clearly this is about fish.

[is-the-snake-video-cute]

thank you for responding, i figured tumblr might have trashed my ask. you’ve helped me a few times already, so thank you for your continued patience as we care for our BP coco! we love her so much and she’s always been a moderately active snake, even enjoying warm skin contact or coming out to explore with supervision. however, for the last couple months we’ve seen almost nothing of her! i figured she was going into shed at first so i kicked the humidity up from 50s to 60s. but after all this time we’ve only seen her for her to eat and it never seemed like she was in shed. i’m worried we’re overfeeding her because even though she’s eating like a champ, she doesn’t seem that hungry to me until we give her a f/t rat (then she’s all about it). my husband is very worried she’s going to starve to death in there because she isn’t coming out so we’re still feeding her every few weeks. i’m more personally concerned that i haven’t seen her drinking much at all.

i was worried for her so i pulled the top off of her humidity hide, and this is what i saw:

are those fat rolls or dehydration? i want to do right by this little lady but i’m just not sure what i’m doing wrong :( i’m happy to take her straight to the vet, but if this is normal i wanted to know first.

So sorry to hear Coco hasn't quite been herself!

So, right off the bat, good news and bad news. Good news: she's at no risk of starving in there, and you also don't have to worry if you haven't been seeing her drinking (most bps will drink when we're asleep or otherwise not watching, so it's actually rare to catch them at it). Bad news: she definitely does look to be overweight to me. It probably looks a bit worse than it is in this picture because she is curled up pretty tight, but I am seeing some fat rolls.

Dehydration in ball pythons looks different - you'll see wrinkles, yeah, but they'll look more like the skin is pulling up. Here are some pictures of dehydrated snakes so you can see what I mean:

Any sudden change in activity is enough to get me a little bit worried, so this is one of those cases where I do think a vet visit would be a good idea because it could be down to such a wide variety of things. My hunch is that you're probably overfeeding a bit; the lack of hunting behavior despite a good appetite is a pretty strong clue there, and snakes who are full will tend to spend more time hiding anyway as they digest. In addition, carrying some extra weight can make a snake less active than usual because of the strain on their bodies.

Now, as long as you're not seeing any obvious signs of illness (wheezing, open-mouthed breathing, any noises, etc.), I really don't think this is something you'll need to rush to the emergency vet for, but I think a wellness exam would be a good idea (if only to rule out anything more serious). Any sudden behavior changes always put me on high alert. You know your snake best - if something seems off to you, it's worth checking out, if only for your own piece of mind!

I think your best course of action is probably just going to be to cut down on your feeding frequency and size for a while. Going a size down and spacing your feedings out will help; I rarely ever feed my own ball pythons more often than every three weeks. They're very easy to overfeed, especially if they have good appetites like Coco!

Like I said, I don't think you've got any sort of emergency on your hards, and I think your best option is just going to be feeding less often, but I'd recommend a vet visit just to make sure nothing's up.

All the best to you and sweet Coco!

[chronicowboy]

all you have to do is call my name (i'll be there)

There are thundering footsteps and then the owner of the voice pops around the corner and Eddie. Well, three things happen to Eddie simultaneously: his eyes bug out of his head, he chokes on his own saliva and he almost falls off his stool.

Eddie had heard a lot about Buck. Hen, Karen, Bobby, Athena, May, Carla, even Harry and Denny. They'd all sung the man's praises. He was kind and compassionate, driven and caring, helpful and loyal to a fault, a damn good cook and a cracking coffee dealer, he was, according to the kids, the coolest man alive too. So, Eddie had heard a lot about this mystery diner owner and he'd kind of curated a vague picture of him in his mind. Someone around Bobby's age or, quite possibly, looking very much like Bobby—although, he'll admit, May had corrected him on his assumption that Buck was Bobby's son (he just spoke about Buck so paternally).

Its safe to say, he's not expecting this. Because Buck is... Look, Eddie's never been all that attuned to hotness. Sure, he finds people beautiful. Attraction is different for him, though. He and his ex-wife had started hot and heavy because Shannon was confident and eager in a way that made Eddie's stomach flip. Of course, that had been their downfall in the end. But, the point is, he's not one of those guys who just looks at someone and is like woah. Until now apparently.

Because Buck is an Adonis of a man. And Eddie doesn't use that word lightly, but there's no other way to describe him. He's huge, six foot, definitely got an inch or two on Eddie himself who's a pretty big guy, and buff. So buff. His arms are like fucking pythons, specifically a python that's swallowed a football, and he's wearing a shirt that must be two sizes too small because it leaves nothing to the imagination. Seriously, nothing. Eddie can see his abs from where he sits, but that has nothing to do with the drool pooling in his mouth. He's all legs too. Like literally so much leg. When Eddie looks him up and down, he swears it takes him thirty seconds to reach the man's waist. And, if all that wasn't enough, he's wearing a fucking backwards baseball cap which Eddie didn't know was a Thing for him until right at this moment. It should probably make the guy look douche-y, but the blinding grin on the guy's face is too reminiscent of the way a golden retriever's tongue lolls out of its mouth to do anything but add to the effect of Buck.

Oh, fuck.

"Hey, what can I get you?" Buck asks, pulling a pencil from behind his ear.

"Uh..." Eddie's mouth is suddenly very, very dry. Buck purses his lips and ducks his head, blushing like he knows exactly what Eddie's thinking.

(OR: the gilmore girls au (from before i could be bothered to edit sorry 🫣))

[wronglennon]

need need need to hear what the 1969 era was like in your daemon AU, like what are yoko and lindas daemons, what was the get back era like, what shape does George’s daemon settle into this fic has taken over my brain

hi!! this is so fun im so pleased you’re invested because me and james @menlove (hi james) have been talking about this constantly. i wanna break some stuff down into bulletpoints, and then theres some stuff i wanna keep for later works because i am definitely planning to write a piece set in the get back era and a piece in the 70s (maybe they’ll kind of conjoin into another longform thing but who knows). i fear this is long so im putting it under the cut but should anyone like to read the fic here’s the link (user only im afraid)

george’s daemon (rimbaud) settles as a snake, specifically a burmese python, which i weirdly only settled on yesterday. james and i had liked the idea for his daemon being a snake but i couldn’t decide between something smaller or smth more akin to the burmese python but james pointed out how well the large snake imagery would go with a lot of goerge’s stuff. i mean. i love the image of a huge snake in the grass on the cover of all things must pass, kind of curled next to him.

linda’s daemon is a sun bear called theseus!! i just love the idea of two very earth bound animals for her and paul, especially how connected and enmeshed in nature they become with the farm etc. i think a lot about one of yokos quotes about linda’s smile being like the sun or something similar (paraphrasing) and i think the warmth and also the care and comfort that comes with the association and image of bears is very her, but there’s still a fierceness and protectiveness that feels very necessary. i liked theseus as a name for her as well because of the greek figure that beats the minotaur and finds his way out of the labyrinth (navigating the john paul relationship in the late 60s is incredibly labyrinthian to me) but also because he is the king in a midsummer’s night’s dream that watches the botched performance of pyramus and thisbe! just felt verryyyy pertinent

yoko’s daemon is a dragonfly called rentaro. i also like the idea of both yoko’s and linda’s daemons being male i think there’s something about the identities and the sort of respective queerness in both their relationships but also yoko with john’s many comments of her being like a bloke in drag etc. i love the notion of a dragonfly for her as they’re largely seem to symbolise and change in perspective and a rebirth of sorts which i think is very much what she meant for john, but also what her relationship with john meant for her. plus the kind of graceful, airborne creature matches thisbe in that they’re both creatures of flight. whereas paul and linda are earthbound, there’s something very untied and abstract about john and yoko. plus, his name is rentaro because of yoko’s father being a pianist, and rentarō taki is a rlly interesting japanese pianist from the late 19th century. he has one composition of a piece that translates to ‘moon over the ruined castle’, which brought to mind allusions of the moon and the sea, the tides etc, and how yoko’s name written in kanji reads as ‘ocean child’. its a sort of tenuous link but felt associatively fitting in my mind, with john and yoko alternating as the moon and the ocean in their relationship

the get back era leading into the separation is obviously a veryyy tense time for john and paul but particularly moreso because there are these creatures representative of their souls and their true feelings which they can’t entirely control and so continue to give them away. john’s residual affection towards paul is shown by how thisbe still flocks to him as though he’s this safe space, and john really starts to resent thisbe for it, and pulls away from paul even more to compensate for it. meanwhile, paul obviously can see that john isn’t completely unfeeling where he’s concerned, due to thisbe, but (and james puts this in a way i love) it means very little when he’s making the decision to convey a lack of care with his actions over and over. there may be a love at the core of everything but it doesn’t matter if it’s not able to change anything. there’s one particular incident at the end of the get back sessions that contributes veryyy heavily to the distance between the two and particularly pyramus withdrawing from the relationship which i am very excited to eventually write on because it breaks my heart.

anyways! that’s a lot of information i am always extremely happy to talk about this au seeing as its on my brain always. im so pleased as well that you liked the fic and want to know more!! not sure when i’ll be able to work on more instalments in the universe (i have some other projects on my mind too) but it’s one of my favourite things to talk and think about so thanks so much <33

[noperopesaredope]

My Wild Kratts Villain OC

Rosetta McBest

Absolutely terrible person (derogatory). Just the worst (affectionate). Best of my designs. One of the villains and a very real one at that (I really love making WK villains who are stand-ins for real issues). Rosetta here is an influencer who loves taking pictures with animals and posting them on social media.

Rosetta acts sweet and bubbly on the outside, saying that she "totally looooves animals," but is secretly very self-absorbed and egocentric, not actually caring about animals as much as she pretends to. She sees everything and everyone as potential content and a way to make money. Peak slightly annoying influencer, but not even in an overly stereotypical way. More based on actual problematic influencers and their legitimately toxic and messed up behavior. The ones who act like they care and think they are so charming and silly and likable when it typically comes across as annoying.

She can occasionally come across as charming, especially when she is being a bit more genuine due to excitement. During these moments, she acts very energetic and legitimately bubbly in a authentic way that doesn't come across as performative. She is also very flamboyant. Not quite as much as Donita, but more in a "how to make an entrance/hype something up kind of way. She is a diva of sorts at the end of the day, and it shows in a way that can be silly and goofy. However, when it comes to episodes where she is the main villain, Rosetta is usually very infuriating due to her actions and how much long-term issues they can cause.

She is peak wildlife tourist. If she watched "Tiger King", she would immediately go to a cub petting zoo and take five million pics with it knowing damn well about the truth behind the industry. Rosetta doesn't care. She occasionally engages in performative activism, saying she cares about nature, but then actively and knowingly engaging in harmful practices solely for her own entertainment. Because to her, everything is for her own entertainment. She acts like the world evolves around her, and not even in an unaware way, but in a way that is almost malicious, as though she doesn't even think of the needs of others.

I think her debut episode would be about her trying to steal a coatis to keep it as a pet, while making it extremely obvious she doesn't know anything about them and isn't qualified. She might even try to buy from the illegal pet trade.

At first, the bros may think she actually does care, but by the end of her first episode, they realize that she legit does not care in the slightest. She then becomes one of the antagonists of the series, though she doesn't appear super often. But when she does, she tends to cause a lot of problems, sometimes without even fully realizing it, but in the most obnoxious way ever.

Things she does:

Try to collect animals she has no idea how to care for just because she thought they looked cute and wanted the attention

Gets a bunch of Burmese python, gets tired of them after a short period, and decides to dump them in the Florida everglades (learned about this issue from fishinggarrett)

Might literally go to a cub petting zoo or something similar

Occasionally appears in episodes with Donita to buy clothes from her and whatnot

Disrupts fragile ecosystems by trespassing entering previously undisturbed habitats. All for the sake of some selfies so she can get likes. Honestly probably does stuff like that a lot (trespassing so she can take selfies in places she shouldn't go, thus disturbing the wildlife)

Climbs Mount Everest and litters a lot (not her worst crime and won't be super villainized since most people who do this aren't fully aware of the issue, but will definitely talk about this particular problem)

I'll think of more stuff later.

Basically, just imagine that influencer who apparently likes animals and nature but does the most problematic and harmful things possible. That is Rosetta in a nutshell.