#consider this also a quick update on where those are

[bills-pokedex]

. . . .

. . . .

Lanette? I'm going to need to be restrained.

Locking down your bank account as we speak. —LH

[ribbononline]

New fic by @silverjirachi out wahoo wahoo! Go support it!!

[leikeliscomet]

Asexual theory 101

Right I keep getting asked on most of my asexual posts 'What does this mean OP? Where's the sources?' so imma make a quick ace theory 101 post so if anyone says they don't get it I can say I tried. Let's go:

'What does being ace have to do with race/racism?/There's racism in the ace community???'

Pretty much everything as people of colour experience various forms of sexualisation and desexualisation at the same time, which is why POC are rarely included in asexual representation:

Asexuals of Color Still Seek to Validate Their Asexuality by Ebony Purks

Stereotypes & media about Black masculinity made it harder to come out as asexual by Tyger Songbird

Your Assumptions About Black Queer Masculinity Are Erasing My Asexual Identity by Timinepre Cole

It's Time To Start Celebrating Black Asexuality in Media By Tyger Songbird

Yasmin Benoit: ‘People had a hard time believing that I could be Black and asexual and at Pride’ by Alastair James

Brown and Gray: An Asexual People of Color Zine

'What do TERFS/transphobia have to do with asexuality?'

There's a growing TERF conspiracy theory that asexuality is the side-effect of transitioning. The LGB movement believes the community is exclusively for 'same-sex attracted persons' and so identities that don't involve attraction e.g. the TQIA should be removed. Most backlash towards Yasmin Benoit, aroace activist, is from white TERFs and conservatives:

Acephobic conspiracy theories have transphobic and fascist roots by Sherronda J Brown

'But how can conservatives hate asexuality if they hate sex?'

Because they don't and never did. If the term 'puritan' was used correctly in modern internet discourse, it would be known Christian puritans believe heterosexual sex for reproduction is a gift from god and mandatory so being asexual doesn't exactly fit with that worldview. Their beef is with any form of sex and sexuality that falls outside of cis heterosexual marriage, including asexuality. They're not anti sex but anti sexual autonomy:

"Anti-Sex" and the Real Sexual Politics of the Right by Lee Cicuta (ButchAnarchy)

The religious right is now targeting sexless marriages as “selfishness.” They Want to Ban Those Too by Tyger Songbird

Asexual people targetted by right-wing pundits following landmark report by Harriet Brewis

'What does being ace have to do with gender?'

It's commonly assumed that because patriarchy shames women's sexualities and considers all men's sexuality as biological and unavoidable, that ace women only and exclusively experience dsexualisation whilst ace men only and exclusively are pressured into being sexual beings. This can true as a broad overview but it can vary based on race, disability, class etc. This also becomes complex for asexuals that exist outside the gender binary. This is known as 'gender detachment'.

Impossible for Men, Unremarkable for Women by Canton Winer

My Work on Gender Detachment and Asexuality Strikes a Nerve by Canton Winer

'There's asexual studies now?'

Yup. On the general experiences of asexual people in the UK, including discrimination in education, the workplace and healthcare:

The National LGBT Survey (2018)

Ace in the UK Report (2023)

Specific names:

Asexual theorists: Ianna Hawkins, Michael Paramo, Julia Sondra Decker, Canton Winer (non-ace), Sherronda J Brown, Angela Chen

Asexual activists: Yasmin Benoit, Tyger Songbird, Marshall Blount (TheGentleAce), Kimberly Butler (TheAsexualGoddess)

And I'm gonna update this with more if they're worth adding. I don't wanna hear any excuses anymore or blame towards aces of colour, gay aces or trans aces for not being specific enough anymore. Read!

[the-artist-grimm]

Crimson Angel AU - The Three Remaining Crown Bearers

(Text updated as of Nov 8th, 2024)

More Crimson Angel Lore! This time thinking about some of the previous/current vessels.

(credit to @/waokevale for the inspo! Its from their posts head-cannoning Forneus as a former crown bearer where I got the idea to have her in the lineup!)

Over the course of 1000 years Narinder had in total 13 vessels who bore the red crown, and each were chosen upon their deaths for displaying potential upon arrival into the Gateway. Though the prophecy stated that a lamb would be the final bearer, Narinder did not want to sit idle, and had hoped that others could clear a quicker path for the chosen liberator while he waited. 

Currently named bearers (featuring my SYMBOLISM obsession, deaths/numbers are somewhat related to the character as closely as I manage) 

Forneus - #7 (Lady Luck)

The 7th bearer of the Red Crown, and bared it approximately 300 years ago. Captured by heretics after drawing their attention away from a family in trouble whilst on the road, Forneus caught Narinder’s attention for both her fighting prowess and fierce sense of justice, and proved to be one of his more efficient vessels. Quick-witted and clever, she was a seemingly kind leader to her cult, but a ruthless warrior to all others, with her mission being to decimate the Bishops’ higher-ranking witnesses as opposed to taking them on personally. She also appeared to possess a remarkable amount of luck, hardly ever dying whilst on crusades. Yet despite that her term as vessel only lasted approximately 80 years, whereupon finding herself pregnant via one of her lovers, she willingly relinquished the crown so that she could raise her children in peace, not wanting to put them at risk.

Narinder, though somewhat irked, accepted her choice, as she’d managed to kill enough witnesses to set the Bishops internal hierarchies back by several decades of experience. Unbeknownst to him, however, the very children Forneus relinquished the crown for would join him not long after, with the cat herself being bestowed a golden skull and an open promise of reunion with her children in the distant future by the God of Wisdom and War. 

Forneus died of her heart-in saving those sheep, her heart was cut out during her sacrifice 

7 is considered a lucky number

The Chariot is the 7th Tarot Card, representing triumph through determination, self-control, and overcoming obstacles.

Became vessel at approximately age 20, is now over 400 years old

Ratau- #12 (The Shepherd)

The 12th bearer of the Red Crown, and bared it approximately over 40 years ago. Killed by heretics after refusing to acknowledge the threat they posed to all within the Lands of the Old Faith. Hailing from a village that willfully ignored the lambs and their warnings of slaughter, it was not until heretics arrived to razed the place to the ground that Ratau realized their threat, yet by then it was too late to act as he was slain. Upon his arrival in the gateway Narinder initially had no plans to make him a vessel, yet the rat’s anger towards both himself and the Bishops appeared to make him an easily manipulated enough target to try. And with the dwindling lamb’s population heralding the final liberator’s rise, the death god was desperate to have a vessel prepared to take on the role of mentor. 

Though a remarkably fast learner, Ratau proved inadequate in regards to his ruthlessness, unwilling to push his followers or himself to their limits. And upon being forced to sacrifice a follower following an incident with a mysterious fox, the resulting guilt led to Ratau relinquishing the crown within only a decade, much to Narinder’s frustration. He left the grounds with his disciples and isolated himself to a self-imposed solitude within the woods, only ever visiting his friends from time to time and trying to put his previous cult-life behind him. 

Yet as fate would have it, twenty years later Ratau would chance across a young, newly orphaned lamb within the woods, and though aware of the prophesied fate ahead of them, decided to take the little one in. Fourteen years later, that little lamb would rise as the final vessel.

Ratau died for turning a blind eye to the world around him, and thus, lost his left eye in turn. It was a slash and a stab through which killed him 

12 is considered a number of stability and order, fitting for a mentor

The Hanged Man is the 12th Tarot Card, representing ultimate surrender, sacrifice, and patience.

Became a vessel at age 25, is currently in his mid 60s.

Anthea- #13 (The Lamb/Unlucky Thirteen)

The 13th and final bearer of the Red Crown. Anthea was killed by heretics upon sacrificing herself to save the life of her guardian, Ratau, and had been a willing sacrifice due to a belief that she already lived on borrowed time. Of all prior vessels Anthea was the only one to have worshiped The One Who Waits prior to resurrection and vesselship, and proved to not only be highly devoted, but also far more empathetic and aware of his situation beyond those who came before them. When it came to their interactions with the god, Anthea often expressed a kindness to not just him but his typically overlooked disciples as well, bring them gifts and befriending the three to try and ease their imprisonments. Though coming from a genuine place of care, it was also born from Anthea’s own lack of self, with the lamb preferring to put everyone but themself first. 

It was through aiding The One Who Waits that Anthea’s perspective of self began to change, as Narinder slowly began to challenge their self-sacrificial tendencies the more he got to know them, with the two growing closer and eventually falling in love. Yet it was right before Anthea planned to confess her feelings that The One Who Waits seemingly betrayed them, ordering them to sacrifice themself just as they finally started wanting to live. 

Anthea died for being unable to express their own will beyond giving themself up for others, sticking their neck out so long as it mean someone else benefited from it. Their death was via beheading. 

13 is considered a number of bad luck, yet also of the ending of one cycle and the beginning of another, a transformation 

Death is the 13th Tarot Card, and represents the ending of one phase of a life and the start of another, change, and new beginnings.

Became vessel at age 26, and finished slaying all the bishops in 3 years, making them 29

Trying to go through and whip the game’s admittedly open-ended-ish/slightly vague lore into something more fleshed-out is really fun lol. Might make more vessels but thus far the only three who remain are 7, 12, and 13-which Narinder doesn't even realize that Forneus is till kicking about.

Also Weapons notes!

Forneus gets a hammer because it in a way represents justice (see a court gavel) and though it hits slow it hits HARD. In an RPG its the tank who usually gets it within the party.

Ratau I gave a staff since he's implied to be somewhat cowardly, or at least appears to not like killing to an extent with how he gave up the crown after sacrificing a follower, and since he gives us the curses in-game (yeah they're on Nari's orders but Ratau's the one handing them out), essentially making him a mage seemed fitting-plus in fantasy the mage is usually a mentor. He also has a staff in-game so it maintains that silhouette, albeit I made this one look more like a shepherd's hook considering it's meant to be his weapon as a cult leader.

Anthea, the Lamb, I gave a sword since it's the weapon of a knight in shinning armor, since their personality is that of someone always saving others after all.

And lastly a little doodle of everyone's death scars!

(Also if anyone wants to send asks about the AU or to the characters go ahead hehehe, this AU is taking over my life :3 )

Boarders are by @lambouillet

[lu-is-not-ok]

*rises from the grave*

*trips and falls flat on my face*

Heyyyy, it's ya boy, your favorite chronically exhausted Hong Lu identity that forgor about posting to Tumblr. Hi. Hello.

So. Timekilling Time, huh? Very fun, very exciting, we love focusing on Sinners that are misunderstood both in and out of character. We love Rodya, Hong Lu, and Ryoshu focus. We love Ryoshu's butch mustache swag.

Anyway, allow me yap about it a bit, because I took frame by frame screenshots of the teaser and I haven't yapped on Tumblr in a while. I'll also give a general update on how I've been doing at the end of the post for those who are interested.

The first thing I've noticed in the teaser is Dante actually lays out the exact traits that their choice of Sinners would need. These being (exact wording):

Someone who can support Dante

Someone who can remain laser-focused on the case

Someone who can be free from biased judgement while making rational, quick spur-of-the-moment decisions

In other words, we need Sinners who will help Dante out, are able to stay focused, and who can think on their feet without relying on their own internal biases.

I think it's important to lay those out as clearly as possible, because it makes the selections made by Dante and Verg very interesting, and also kind of funny.

Let's look at Dante's picks - Yi Sang, Meursault, and Faust. These are all, at a surface level, decent general picks, as all three of them are seen as smart and rational. However, if we look at them while keeping the previously mentioned traits in mind, it turns out these three might just be some of the worst picks Dante could ever fucking make.

The biggest issue - none of these bitches can think quickly. Faust is especially notorious for this, as it's consistently pointed out how she always needs a long time to come to a conclusion or otherwise has to pause to come up with answers. We also know Yi Sang is the type of person to get lost in his thoughts and just meander instead of getting to the point. Meursault is a bit of an outlier in that we see that he can think quickly, but if he's not given any orders he's never gonna act on those thoughts. Admittedly, he has been getting better at speaking up over time, but he's still mostly in this "only does what he's told to do" mode of operations.

This is where their issues split up a little bit.

Yi Sang is probably the most likely to be supportive of Dante out of the three - we see that he cares about others and has learned to interfere and give advice when he feels it's necessary (though who knows if he's doing well enough to keep that up after Canto 6, oof). No, rather his other issue lies in the focus department. This is the guy who, as I previously mentioned, meanders all over before getting to the point. Again, like Meursault, he has been getting better at not doing that, but he's still got ways to go.

Faust and Meursault on the other hand have the opposite issue. While they're fairly goot at staying focused on what they have to do, the issue is that they never fucking speak up. They're probbably the furthest from being supportive of Dante. They're most likely to learn info and just keep it to themselves until everyone has wasted way too much fucking time. Hell, Meursault would probably make a decently good detective if allowed to do the case all on his own, but since he's meant to be a part of a group, he's unlikely to help out that much without Dante directly ordering him around.

Now, onto Verg's picks - Rodya, Hong Lu, and Ryoshu. This is where things get really, really interesting. Because we have the reverse situation to Dante's picks - on the surface the choices seem random and counter-intuitive, but if we look deeper, it turns out they all fulfill the requirements surprisingly well.

I'm about to go on a tangent here, but I find it extremely important that we're focusing on this group of Sinners in the first Intervallo between what I consider to be the most thematically different arcs within Limbus. The first half of Inferno has been pretty squarely about confronting one's past, whether learning to face it properly after running away from it (Gregor, Rodya, Sinclair), or learning to move past it after refusing to let go of it (Yi Sang, Ishmael, Heathcliff).

However, looking at the Sinners we have left, it feels like the second half of Inferno might be focused less on the past specifically, but more about the Sinners' general reality. Especially the next upcoming trio of Cantos - Don Quixote, Hong Lu, and Ryoshu - have some heavy thematic focus on the idea of one's perception of reality, especially fitting for the three Sinners with weird eye shit going on.

With Timekilling Time focusing on the Sinners most misinterpreted by others in-character (and out of character), it feels like the perfect intro to this switch in thematic focus - exploring the actual realities of people who are otherwise hard to understand.

Anyway, back to discussing how Rodya, Hong Lu, and Ryoshu fit Dante's requirements.

Supportive of Dante - this is the requirement all three fulfill pretty well. Let me explain.

Rodya is probably the most obvious - she's a hypegirl through and through, and happy to take the reigns in some way or another if nobody else is able to, as we see in Canto 2. She's often one of the first people to point out when someone is not doing well, and shares a lot of her insight if in the mood, but she also knows when discretion is necessary.

Hong Lu is a fun one here - he's extremely perceptive and insightful, often sharing his thoughts with very little prompting. His only issue is that he tends to backpedal when he feels like he said something wrong, or generally just words shit in weird slightly offensive ways. He's supportive, he just doesn't always talk like he is.

Ryoshu is one I find most interesting here, as a lot of people seem to miss this about her character - despite her short temper and peculiar manner of carrying herself, she's actually pretty understanding and helpful towards people she's on amicable terms with. She always explains her acronyms if asked (and when she doesn't it's usually because people stop asking or Sinclair translates instead), she listens when told to stand down or otherwise do something when asked of by Dante or Sinclair, and the reason she tends to stay quiet is because she only speaks when she feels what she has to say is important.

Staying focused - this one is a bit harder to judge, but I'd say the only one who might not fulfill this one is Hong Lu, but only by a margin. Ryoshu is shown to get so focused she gets impatient when she can't get to the point, and Rodya always has her goal in mind even when she might act like she doesn't. Hong Lu is a bit harder to judge, as he seems to be the type to prioritze gathering information and satiating his curiostiy over the main goal, but in a case like this that might just be a massive plus.

Unbiased quick thinking - again, all three fulfill the quick thinking part very well. Rodya shows it constantly throughout Canto 2, Hong Lu shows it best in social interactions, and Ryoshu just doesn't want to waste time and so she naturally thinks quickly as well. It's when we come to the unbiased part that things get extremely interesting.

As individuals, Rodya, Hong Lu, and Ryoshu are all very biased people. Rodya sees the world from the perspective of someone who suffered in the poor Backstreets. Hong Lu sees the world from the perspective of a rich Nest dweller coming from a family of dubious morality. Ryoshu sees the world from the perspective of (probably) an ex-Ring member obsessed with the art that is reality. Their backgrounds color the information they take in a lot.

However... this means that as a group, all three balance each other's biases out. Rodya's cynicism gets balanced out by Hong Lu's idealism, which is balanced by Ryoshu's realism. Their backgrounds couldn't be more different, and thus give the widest possible perspective when put together.

I think this is the point Verg is making with this selection. Dante's selection is the easy way out. It's people that Dante already knows how to deal with, and would rather pick even if their skillsets don't fit the situation. Verg is making Dante learn how to work with Sinners who might be harder to deal with, but have skillsets more fitting for the situation at hand.

Dante can't keep half-assing everything by always turning to the same few people. Every Sinner in the group has their use and are smart in their own unique ways. They have to figure what every Sinner's strong point is, otherwise they'll end up putting everyone in danger by relying on people who are simply not good in a situation while ignoring those who could help.

So... that's what I think.

Anyway, personal general update - I'm still alive! And also very swamped with college and constant exhaustion. So, things will have to change a bit moving forward.

Number one - I will not be returning to old analysis requests. There's too many at this point, and I just don't have the time to sit down and write longass posts whenever I want anymore. However, that isn't to say E.G.O and Sin analyses will never return! I have plaaans for what I want to do with those moving forward, it just may take some time to materialize.

Number two - I'm generally just more active on Discord than on Tumblr. Yapping on Discord feels more natural for me, as it's just... less formal than making a full post I guess. So, if you want to discuss things with me, or if you're on a server that you think would do well with having me yapping in there, feel free to shoot me an invite link in replies (or in DMs if you don't want it to be public)!

Number three - Go check out the Absolute Pride Resonance event on Youtube! I'm not a part of it maybe next time wink wink nudge nudge, but you should still check it out cause it's a bunch of cool people doing very scuffed streams, as is fitting for the scuff Project Moon is known for.

Alright, that's it. I still don't know how to end Tumblr Posts. Bye.

[i-ate-your-dog-srry]

●COMMISSIONS OPEN

ALL OF THE MONEY IS GOING TWARDS A DOG!

Update! The money will no longer be of use for woody. I'm sorry I haven't been taking this well and will be taking some time off for myself. :)

Explanation and more about the commissions ⬇️

Explanation/situation

This is a very complicated situation, sadly! For why I am suddenly in more need of money for the dog will probably get a bit personal.

I have been calling the dog Woody. He is the sweetest boy I have ever met, but sadly, Woody is in a neglectful situation. Borderline animal abuse. The man who currently owns Woody is to put it lightly, a huge piece of shit. Woody is currently starving and malnutritioned. Ontop of that, he has a BAD case of untreated arthritis and fleas. His owner doesn't care about him. He is left outside in cold weather (winter in CANADA). The owner doesn't care about where Woody goes, and he doesn't care to feed Woody. Woody is an old dog who can not care for himself. He is in constant pain/discomfort, and I haven't seen his tail wag ONCE. even at food and attention.

I'll try to make this quick, but it's hard to do so. My apologies in advance.

Woody is currently in my dad's garage. I am a minor, and I don't have much power to help Woody, but I'm doing all I can. I really love him. My dad is not a good person, and I want to take Woody to my mom's and let him live the life he deserves in a warm home with love and food. The garage is not heated, and my dad has no real concern for Woodys life. In order to help Woody, we would need to steal him from his owner. I have considered animal control, but sadly, this is a small, old-fashioned town. There isn't real animal control here. Only a pound, and they will not care. If they do take action (VERY unlikely), it will most likely lead to them putting him down. He deserves to live at least some of his life happily. Back on topic. At my mom's, we already have 4 animals And ontop of all the expenses that those animals come with, we would be adding more. We are not well off. Woody needs medical care for his arthritis and fleas, and we are already drained of extra cash from rescueing one of our other animals (Critter) recently. I don't want Woody to suffer anymore, and vet expenses are high. My mom has agreed to help Woody, but I can't just not help with the money. We are stuck in between a rock and a hard place, and the sooner I have money to help with the sooner, Woody is safe. I can only imagine how the cold temperatures are affecting his arthritis at this moment. I will keep this post updated.

Update/edit: Woody has put on some weight!! He is still underweight non the less but it is small progress! Sadly, I have found his ears are infested, but I am getting this handled! I finally have some pictures of him! <33 he also seems more happy!!! He is standing still more often, and he quite loves the attention.

Another edit/update: he is doing even better!! Even more meat on his bones, and he is so much happier!!! His tail is wagging, and he seems to be in so much less pain!! <3 he's also jogging around and trotting! .. it's still a task to get up the stairs, though...

Commission info

I am a minor!! If this makes you uncomfortable, I completely understand!!! I am a teenager in my much younger years. I just wanted to make that clear <3

A fully rendered art piece: $20.00

A flat colored and hard lined art piece: $15.00

A Hard lined art piece: $10.00

A sketch art piece is: $5.00

Bust, half-body, and full body choices add no charge it's simply an option :)

Adding another character to the art piece will add $10.00 onto the commissions price, and the price can be debated and talked about! :] If you are interested, please send me a DM, or if you have any questions about any of this, you can contact me any way you wish!

I do!

OC's, characters, light gore, Oc/Sona + Character, Oc/Sona x Character, lightly romantic settings/interacts.

I Dont do!

Heavy gore, NSFW, suggestive drawings, humans.

The human rule can be broken, but I can not draw humans well at all. So there is a large chance you will not get a very pretty drawing. I mostly draw things more like monsters/puppets/furrys, etc.

I only use PayPal and e-Transfer . D:

Please contact me in any way if you have any questions whatsoever about what was said or mentioned in this post! :3

Edit: DONT FEEL BAD IF YOU CAN'T DONATE!!! even a like is appreciated!! Thank you guys so SOSOSOSO SO MUCH!!!<3333

[thelov3lybookworm]

Weeping Heart (Part 5)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Summary: panic attacks and tears

•○●⛦●○•

Warnings: the beginnings of a panic attack, cardan being sad and frustrated, though i dont go into details. yn running away again, ig. (the next part will include her getting comforted, dw <3 )

Word Count: 1107

A/n: shes a lil late but shes hereee yayyy 🥳

Imp: the next parts will be either posted on friday or next monday, depending on how quick i write. it will be a double update, so everyone whos on team herb can read the herb x reader part and ones on team cardan can read the cardan x reader part. i will add those links to this part when they are uploaded, so if you choose yes, you read the herb part. if you choose no, you read the cardan part.

anyways, enjoy🥹❣️

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Y/n did not mind mornings. She had come across quite a few humans who insisted mornings were the worst time of the day, about how they preferred night.

Most faeries would agree, considering they slept during the day and worked at night. But Y/n, she loved mornings. She could get some peace to herself, some quiet that seemed to betray her when her soldiers, male and female alike, were awake. It was just quiet chatter, but it still got on her nerves sometimes.

Y/n always got herself up a few hours before sunset to have some time to herself, to practise her fighting skills, to think.

Y/n also knew Cardan liked to sleep. Most of the time, he had no option but to sleep off his hangovers after drinking the whole night, but even when that wasn't the case, he would never wake up while the sun was still out without a reason.

So when Y/n snuck out of Herb’s tent in the afternoon, the sun beating down on her as she went, it was a huge surprise to Y/n to find Cardan sitting on her bed, wide awake.

She paused at the threshold of her tent, the flap fluttering shut behind her as she processed the sight. "Cardan? You’re up early."

He smiled, though it did not reach his eyes. "Yeah. I’ve been up for some time now." He paused, glancing down at Y/n’s boots. It was a thing he used to do, when he was feeling vulnerable but did not want her to see. "Waiting… for you."

Y/n’s blood slowed in her veins before rushing again, and she sighed, stepping forward and making her way towards the chair in the corner.  "I was sleeping, Cardan."

"Where?" His response was quick, sharp, as if he had been thinking of it since he woke up. It made Y/n freeze in her tracks, her eyes growing slightly wide.

"Uh… in a soldier’s tent?"

He stood. "Why?"

Y/n blinked. "What do you mean why? My bed was occupied, so-"

"So now you can’t even stand my presence?" He laughed.

Y/n stared at him, at a loss for words. She looked at him closely, noting the gauntness in his pale cheeks, he shadows under his eyes.

Sure, he had all those before, but the hollows seemed deeper, the shadows darker. "I never said that, Cardan. And I would never be intolerable to your presence."

He scoffed. "Right, that’s why you’ve been running away and avoiding returning to Insmire for so long."

Y/n sighed, rubbing her face. "It’s nothing against you, Cardan-"

"Then why have you been avoiding me since I arrived?! I’ve been trying to talk to you, I’ve tried so many times! Why are you running away from me?!" He snapped, his voice rising.

And Y/n froze completely.

Cardan never yelled. That was something Y/n had grown up with. No matter what, Cardan never yelled. He would drink, he would party, he would revel, hell, he’d bed people just to forget his frustrations. But he never yelled.

And never at Y/n.

It broke her will to care.

"Because if I don’t, I might just kill myself!"

He stilled, his eyes wild as he stared back at her, his chest heaving. Y/n stepped forward, closer and closer to him. His gaze tracked her movements, almost predatory.

"Do you know, Cardan, how much pain I have been in everyday since I realised that you would never look at me like I look at you?" He said nothing, his eyes wide. "Everyday, I’d put on a smile, act like I have not been in love with you since I understood what love was, and watched as you did all that you did, as you revelled and ruined your own reputation, as you acted like you loved all those females you bedded."

Y/n finally stopped a foot from him, jabbing her finger into his chest, fury blazing in her heart. "I was there as you watched your mother ignore you, I was there to comfort you, I was there as you shattered every time after her rejection. I was there when you wanted Jude, I was right there helping you out with her. I listened to every detail you provided of your love life, trying to hold myself together, and you just couldn’t see it."

Y/n shook her head, smiling. "You could never see it, you were too busy making eyes at others to notice me. And yes, if you’re going to ask me if running away was necessary, yes it was. Because I could no longer bear to watch you be in love with Jude while I stared at you like a lovesick puppy. It was eating me alive from the inside. And I couldn’t tell you about it either, because I saw how in love with Jude you were, and I never wanted to get in the way of your happiness. You know why? Because I care about you, Cardan. I care about you."

He stared at Y/n, looking like he was about to cry as she panted, her blood chilling as she realised what she had just done.

"Y/n, I-"

Y/n stumbled back, her heart beating in her throat.

The beating slowed.

Her hearing diminished.

Or maybe the birds stopped chirping. She didn’t know.

She didn’t care.

This was a panic attack, she was sure of it.

This was the first one she was having in years. The last time was when Y/n had realised she loved Cardan and had almost blurted it out at him, but stopped just before he could hear it, and then he had left with a pretty nymph on his arm.

Even back then, he had not paid any attention to her as he led the female away, already beginning to kiss her before they were even out of sight.

And she had made it a mission that she never had any other panic attacks ever again. And if she did, she’d not create a scene, especially not in front of Cardan.

So she took another step back, her heartbeat thudding in her ears, slow, unsteady, and then turned and sprinted out of her tent, her only focus her horse, Toad.

And the moment the horse was in her arms reach, she swung herself onto the mare’s back and rode away, tears beginning to gather in her eyes.

She heard him calling after her.

Maybe Herb would keep Cardan away. Keep him from following her.

But did she want him to?

No.

Yes.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

permanent taglist: @berryzxx @serenescureforboredom @cassie6392 @harrystylesfan2686

Cruel Prince Taglist: @dahliawarner @yucanbmylxdy @lilachaelnut @sheisntyou @kitkatlover015

Cardan Greenbriar Taglist: @kennedy-brooke @hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter

@123345566 @mp-littlebit @tele86 @fauxraven

@fuzzycupcakebeliever @bay7let @yourmomsushi @evanthelibra @dnfhascorruptedme

Taglist: @dreamsarenicer @kennedy-brooke @123345566 @batboygirlie

@btrxbllck @love-bookprincess @kitsunetori @northstar-legolas3

@evanthelibra @lxsis @nana7nana777 @blueberrygeniejam

@selenescribes @jasmineee05 @biscuit-sa @hat3yo0

[genericpuff]

Do you have any big plans for Rekindled this year? Like specific moments/events/developments? Also, would you ever consider going back to a weekly upload schedule?

welllll as for stuff that's like, in the immediate near future, we're gonna be tackling a VERY famous scene in LO that I have some fun ideas for that will hopefully make it feel familiar but with its own twists for y'all to enjoy. Considering the current roadmap the story is on and what's been established over the past few "days" within the story, I'm sure y'all will figure out pretty quick which scene I'm talking about ;333

But in the long-term over the course of this year... I don't wanna speak too soon, but I think this is the year that we're finally gonna enter the biggest turning point of the story, so big that it literally diverts LR's plot away from the blueprint of LO and we end up in truly new territory. Granted, there are still some elements of the original LO present after that point, but what we do with those elements is entirely different. I think it's gonna parallel well, because while LO's S2 era took a massive turn away from everything it had been building up towards throughout S1, LR's "second season" will be taking a massive turn towards those setups and outcomes that were clearly abandoned (or just not thought of entirely, even the stuff that was like... plainly obvious to anyone who was paying attention lmao).

I'm hoping that after we've reached that point, the path that LR walks will feel way more satisfying for the readers like myself who felt that everything beyond S2 of LO was a complete misfire and lost potential. Again, it will hopefully feel familiar to those who remember that era of LO - but still refreshing and interesting to really drive home how this is meant to be an interpretative rewrite of what could have happened if LO hadn't gotten distracted and had actually stuck with its original plotlines and themes. I think the biggest one of those themes that was present in LO but never fully realized will be everything concerning "Persephone" herself, the Act of Wrath, and everything that led up to her moving to Olympus.

It is a little nerve-wracking, because it'll be at that turning point where I truly have to carry this story's progression for real and can't use LO quite as much to guide me through the dark, but I'm also excited because it's where I finally get to loosen a lot of the limitations that were set from the foundation of LO and really go wild with everything that I had been hoping LO would be. It's when I'll really get to write some proper payoffs to the things that I've been building up to from the foundation of the original comic as my starting point. It's where things are really gonna start to feel truly "new", at least in my opinion!

As for what that massive "turning point" is... I'm not gonna say specifically what happens, but you will absolutely know it when you'll see it. Obviously there are already a lot of differences between LR and LO in terms of the plot threads and how everything is being progressed, but this one turning point in particular is a huge one that fundamentally opposes one of the biggest flaws of LO that would define its downhill decline in its storytelling for the rest of its publication.

But for now, until we get there, I'll leave the rest up to your imagination ;3

---

As for the update schedule, I would honestly love to be able to return to the weekly schedule again, but currently my work-life balance is just not gonna allow for it :'0 For those unaware, when I'm not making Rekindled, I'm also working my day job as a contracted tattoo artist which comes with its own load of responsibilities and obligations, many of which are what I need to fulfill in order to do things like pay my rent and, y'know, not die LOL In terms of the work-life balance, even when I'm not working on Rekindled, there's still a lot of work taking up my life LMAO (including a second retail job that I've been doing a seasonal position for, though it's wrapping up at the end of the month~)

While I love making Rekindled and spend as much time as I can each week working on it (and I wish it could be like, the only thing I had to worry about LOL) it is still just a fanfiction project that I create for free, and so it just can't be at the top of my priority list, at least not without sacrifices from those other obligations - but those other obligations are, again, what I need to do in order to not only survive, but to ensure that I can afford to keep making Rekindled, even if it's at a slower pace than I would like.

That said, Rekindled is still a very high priority for me! It's just a matter of balance, and changing to a bi-weekly schedule was part of maintaining that balance. It was either that, or stick to weekly and make the episodes shorter, but I ultimately settled on the former option because it allowed for a healthier work-life balance (which is still not even super healthy but I'm working on it lmao) and because the rhythm of my writing wouldn't have worked as well in shorter doses, especially not with many of the plotlines we've been tackling as of late. It can be a drag to wait every two weeks, but it means I can bring y'all episodes that are fully realized to their full potential, rather than hacking them up into tinier portions that might not read as well and would require a drawing schedule that wouldn't fit well with my current circumstances.

All in all, while I do wish I could be back to making episodes on that weekly schedule, it's really only because I would love to bring you all more of the story more often, because there's a lot that I'm really excited to show you all! But the bi-weekly schedule is currently more viable for both myself, Banshriek, and the comic as a whole, because it means we get the time we really need to make every episode feel special with every update <3

[songoftrillium]

Project Update 09/01/24

Hello, Kinfolks. We're a little under 60 days from releasing Book 1: Cliath, and I wanted to give you all a quick update, provide a few book facts, and hope this lets you share the excitement the rest of us have been feeling!

Book Layout

As you might've seen from our previews, writing is transitioning from writing to copy editing and book layout! If you haven't yet, check it out! The first two chapters are done, and chapter 3 is well underway. Outside of my work on Hearthbound, this is my first major book project, the largest book I've written, and the insights I've gained are ones I think might help future community content partners publishing work on Storyteller's Vault.

On Bluesky, a few months ago, I commented that you should "plan to take as much time doing layout as you do for writing." Even if one writes the book inline right in the desktop publishing program, annotation will still add time. With a WtE book we want to not just provide an adventure and a crash course on the Tellurian, but to also be a roadmap for Storytellers, new and old alike. This has happened on three fronts. The first and most important is we're taking the time to properly index everything in a way that'll let you look up specific book information quickly. The second is how we streamline information through the liberal use of cross-referencing in footnotes. In early chapters, you read truncated summarization, and in the footnotes, you can find book sections that expand on the information you're looking for and let you tune out the things that may not be so important for you to know at the moment. The third and most important feature, however, is where able, we cite our sources for our information. Should a Storyteller wish to learn expanded information on topics, they have a direct book and page citation where they can find deep lore to help construct their chronicles.

Cracking the Bone: now in coloring flats stage

For those that haven't been following, we are returning to old form. The moment you open Book 1, you'll be greeted with a fully illustrated and colored 22-page comic book showcasing life in the Age of Heroes. This story is centered around Dante (he/they,) our protagonist, and his first steps towards his First Change as a Bitten Homid Philodox. Throughout the book, we'll follow his journey towards becoming a Cliath, forming his pack under Earwig and his first mission as a Zedakh in a pack of other Queer Garou. In successive books, you'll see him transition from a scared baby gay Cub to a respected Elder in the Eastern Concordat! We're all absolutely thrilled to follow them on their journey. Illustrating this comic is the highly talented @mekanikaltrifle, who has partnered with us to bring Dante's story to life. I have a single pane I'd like to show you, bearing in mind these are just a first pass!

Book Pricing Information

We've also finalized some of our possible pricing on this book. On Storyteller's Vault, Community Content is priced on a per-page basis. The average is considered to be 12 cents per page. I did some early market work by releasing Hearthbound on a pay-what-you-want model with a recommended pricing of $2.99, totaling roughly 8 cents per page. I advertised exclusively here and on other social media platforms to queer audiences to help gauge a fair price for materials explicitly marketed to that audience. Of those that decided to pay for copies of the book, readers paid an average of 5$ per copy for an average of 14 cents per page. Given the voluntary nature of the release, we on the team have agreed that we'll be charging a rate of 14 cents per page for this release, which puts us on par with pricing for similar releases with a matching pagecount. With layout underway, we're currently looking at a book length of around 200-250 pages. 50% of proceeds go to the publisher, and the remainder will be split equally among all contributors, myself included. I and another artist have pledged to donate the entirety of our shares toward preserving the Kalapuyan language.

Book 1: Cliath releases on Halloween day!

I'd like to give a shout out to @a-boros-named-seamus, @madamebadger, The Bohemian, @peltofash, @ar2456, and Durodragon for supporting me on ko-fi, through yours and the donations of other ko-fi sponsors, we've managed to hire cultural consultants to review about half of what's been written. Because we weren't able to review all of our written words, we've narrowed our focus onto some of our most sensitive subject-matter, and believe that what we have coming out will be the inclusive Werewolf: the Apocalypse Quickstart you've all been waiting for. Thank you! It means so much to us that we have our own sept of Kinfolk out there who believe in this project!

If you'd like to help sponsor this project, subscribe on ko-fi to help us pay Cultural Consultants to work with us! We have some cool perks for subscribing, including access to book and setting previews, the ability to give feedback on game content we're producing, personalized advice for your own tables, and can even get a shoutout right in the book.

[lis-likes-fics]

Princess II

Pairings: Eddie Munson x rich!Reader Word Count: 18k words Warnings: Slow burn, swearing, tooth-rotting fluff, strangers to best friends to lovers... A/N: This was so much fun to write. It took like....over a year to finish this two-parted but it's done and I love them so much. They're literally idiots. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. Thank you! (And a special thanks to my beta reader, you're amazing!)

The months pass smoothly, and soon you've been incorporated into aspects of Eddie's life that you've dreamt of for years.

It started with you ditching the cheerleading squad at lunch to go sit with Eddie and his friends. They were so sweet to you, if not a little flirty. Dustin was always eager to see you at lunch, showing off his intelligence or quick-wit any chance he got. He was all smiles, treating you like his cool aunt who got him just about anything he asked for because you liked to spoil him.

Mike was also excited, but he was also a little more open to accepting gifts and things from you. But he was the middle child in his family, so you kind of expected it.

Gareth, Fred, and Jeff all had similar reactions. Though Fred was more skeptical of having a girl like you in the group, you were easy to warm up to. Gareth and Fred constantly flirted with you, but you suspect they did it more for Eddie's annoyance than yours. You warmed up to them.

But Eddie.

The first day you went to sit with them, he'd made one of his buddies get up and move so you could sit next to him. It was a complete change in fondness, like his comfortability to you had skyrocketed to the other end of his kindness.

He included you in every chat, asked questions that weren't awkward but let him and the group get to know you. You really felt comfortable there, like one of them. You expected to feel a little off, but you didn't. They were so kind.

Everyone sneered for a while. The first couple of days were full of glares and snickers from those of other tables. But the longer you sat there, the less people cared. Whatever. You could do what you want, you're the princess. Eddie's comments on how people pick on him and his friends dwindled, though it never fully disappeared.

The squad wasn't so happy, not that you cared. They talked about it to your face and behind your back. It always got back to you of course, Chrissy kept you updated.

You actually managed to pull Chrissy a couple of times to sit with you and Eddie. She enjoyed it just as much as you.

Soon you started joining them during their campaigns. You just sat out and watched at first, serving as their cheerleader, until Eddie pulled you in by your waist, sat you down next to him like you always do now, and let you join in as any character of your choosing. You were an orc named Bill.

The longer you were friends with Eddie, the closer you got, and you loved every second. You went from sitting at his lunch table to playing campaigns with him to regularly going to his house (to the point where you could walk in and Wayne would wave and point down the hall where Eddie sat in his room) to spending just about every day glued to his side, his inseparable friend.

Eddie had always wanted a friend like that, though he'd never admit it, adamant on maintaining his reputation as a freakish outsider who didn't need anyone, who adopted all the other losers into his band of rejects.

He'd always wanted someone who loved spending that much time with him. He's way more happy than he'd like to admit that you haven't gotten tired of him yet.

Spring break comes and goes. You spend the whole of it with Eddie, except for the one day your parents decided to take you to one of the charity events in town. You spent the whole of it with Chrissy in a pretty dress that Eddie said he liked—considering she was in the same class as you and your parents were close friends.

You learned a lot of things over the time you spent as Eddie's friend.

You learned that every time he's asked what his favorite color is, he says black or red just to be edgy when, really, it's baby blue.

You learned that he loves pizza, he could finish an entire pie by himself in under ten minutes. Then he'd smile at you with his face covered in pizza sauce and you'd feel like you were going to puke, you're so in love.

He claims to be ambidextrous, but you've seen his left-handed penmanship and there's nothing ambidextrous about it. He likes loud, thundering music, but you've seen him turn into a softy from the slow, quiet kinds you never thought he'd be into. He lifts sometimes, revealing to you how lean he actually was when you walked in on him shirtless in his room once with weights in his hands.

You'd left the room to recuperate. He'd teased you about it for weeks.

He's terrible at math but he's a decent writer, he's a nice singer—and you melt every time you hear him sing, no matter the genre—he can draw, he can read three different books in one week, he cannot cook, but he can boil the hell out of some water. Wayne was very happy when you showed up in Eddie's life and started cooking for them.

You watched him learn the entirety of Metallica's new song, Master of Puppets, in under a month.

Choosing to become Eddie's friend was a terrible decision in only one way: every single day, he gives you more and more reason to fall deeper in love with him. Your heart is so full, you think you'll die.

You don't know if Eddie knowing that you like him is better or worse. On one hand, he knows he definitely has the option if he really wants it. On the other, he doesn't know just how much you have fallen and him being him tears you apart from the inside out.

But if this is the closest you'll get to him, you'll gladly burn inside just to get the chance to hold his hand.

~

After pulling up in front of your house, Eddie opens your door like a gentleman so you can make him study for a test he had that you knew he wouldn't do otherwise. He slung your bag over one shoulder, grabbing his own to do on the other side.

"Wait!" you tell him as he's slamming the door. You rush inside, smiling wide as you disappear into the house. Eddie follows you, taking his sweet time about it. You're already running down the stairs as he reaches the door after finally walking the length of your huge driveway.

You come out with your hands behind your back, smiling too big for your face as you look at him. He raises a brow, dropping both your backpacks inside by the door and leaning to the side. His knee pops out, making him look as sassy as he probably feels.

"Another gift?" he asks, almost exasperated as he recognizes that sticky sweet smile on your face. He loves it but the amount of gifts you shower him with is insane sometimes.

"Are you trying to buy my love or something?" he teases. "Is this a bribe, Princess?" He lifts his brow ridiculously high and lowers his voice ridiculously low, as if talking in secret.

You roll your eyes at his theatrics. "Don't be ridiculous," you shake your head. "It's a gift."

He shrugs a shoulder. "Same difference."

You scoff. "Shut up and close your eyes." He makes a teasing snort but does as he's told. You bite the very tip of your lip. "Hold out your hands." He does it.

You pull the long, yellow envelope from behind your back, tied with a thin white ribbon to make the most exaggerated bow he'd ever see. You watch his brows change at the feeling of the paper in his hands, curiosity leaking out.

"Now open."

He does. Looking down at the envelope, he raises a brow and stares at it, as though it would open on command. He fingers the glued down flap of the letter and glances at you with hesitant eyes. "What is this?"

He pulls the glue free and begins to pull out two, just as long, slips of laminated paper. Looking up at you, he can see how bubbly you were with the excitement to show him your latest gifts. Or "bribes", as he liked to call them—all out of good fun!... you think.

The words pour from your lips. "Two backstage tickets to Metallica next week!" You bring it back once the biggest part of the reveal was said. "They're on tour, and I know you like them."

He stares at you with wide eyes, but he doesn't smile. You wait for his grateful reply for a while before what you are met with is a loud, "What?"

Your excitement turns to shivering fear as you stare, worried. "Is it the wrong band?" Suddenly, all the worst scenarios you worried about come to mind. "Shit, did I mess up?" You start mumbling to yourself. "I know I checked and then double checked. Maybe the tickets are wrong. Fuck, what did I do—?"

He stops you with his heavy hands on your shoulders, weighing you down but also providing a lot of comforting warmth as he looks you in the eye with the same level of intensity. "You got me V.I.P. tickets to see Metallica perform?"

"In Indianapolis, yes."

He stares at you a moment longer before he's shoving you to his chest, his arms wrapping around you and keeping you flush against his body. The hug is warm and enveloping and much too close for friendship, and you hug him back just as closely, almost feeling as though you could cry of how wonderful it felt to have his scent all around you, his arms around your waist, his crazy hair tickling your face and shoulders.

After a beat too long, he's hoisting you off your feet and spinning you in a circle that has your body flying for a moment. He sets you down as you're both giggling, and when he pulls back to see you, his lips are set in the biggest smile you have ever seen. The breath is knocked from your lungs as you stare wide-eyed at him, and whatever was left slips out when his thumbs smooth circles along your sides as his hands stay set on your waist.

"You are fucking amazing," he says too fondly.

You gaze warmly at him, feeling your heart skipping too many beats. You need to go to the hospital.

Then his whole demeanor changes once more as his face drops into near frustration. "And extravagant," he adds suddenly. "Why the fuck did you get these for me?"

You honestly expected his hands to leave you by now, but they stayed at your sides with the envelope held between his fingers. You set your hands on his arms, shrugging as you smile earnestly.

"For us," you say, hoping not to scare him away with that. "Because I wanted to do something special for you. You deserve it."

Eddie doesn't know what he's done to deserve something as special as this, but he just smiles down at it with the joy of a little boy getting a dog he's been wanting all his life for his birthday. You hear him curse under his breath.

"I gotta go tell Wayne," he beams. He scoops you into his arms again, squeezing tighter this time as he laughs happily, his elation infecting you. He sets you down, looking over your face. He's moving and speaking faster than you think he thinks he is, but it just makes you smile some more.

"Ah, I fuckin' love you. I'll see you later!" He tears away from you, turning around and sprinting toward his van to drive haphazardly down the road to get back to his uncle. He's waving at you through the window as he pulls away.

Meanwhile, you stand at the door with wide eyes and stilled breath, frozen on the porch. His words replay in your head like a mantra, like a prayer that you've been waiting for as you smile a little.

"He loves me," you sigh. Then you shake your head, hoping not to be as delusional as you feel. "Just a figure of speech..." you chew your lip, "probably..." you furrow your brows, "most likely."

You sigh as you shake and bow your head. "I'm talking to myself again."

You turn on your heel and set a course down the sidewalk, walking a few houses down with fast feet and an even quicker beating heart. Four doors down, you come up the path to Chrissy's house and start repeatedly pounding on the door, because it was more dramatic than letting yourself in.

You hear her as she approaches the door because she yells, "Y/N, I'm coming!"

The door opens and Chrissy stands on the other side with a raised brow and a sigh. She sees you standing there with your conflicted look as she furrows her brow. "What happened?"

You walk past her, venturing into the house and walking right up the stairs as she follows behind you, unphased as she closes the door. "I gave the tickets to Eddie."

"And?" she asks as she follows you up the stairs.

"He loved them," you say over your shoulder, shrugging. "He was, like, super excited."

She smiles wide, her whole face lights up. "That's great!"

You get to the top of the stairs on your way to her room, stopping at one of the doors prior and knocking gently before pushing it open. "Hi, Carter."

The boy looks at you and smiles wide, waving his hand as he returns his greeting. You smile back and close the door, instantly falling back into your contemplation as you burst into Chrissy's room and plopped down at the edge of her bed.

"So," she prompts. "Is it a date?"

You furrow your brow, granting her a confused look. "What? No, don't be ridiculous."

She rolls her eyes, "Right..."

"But he..." you trail off, chewing on your lower lip as you keep thinking to yourself, replaying the moment over and over and over again with the over-analysis of a skilled theorist.

"What?" she asks, urging you to finally spit it out.

"He, like," you look at her and release your lip in favor of speaking as you try and fail not to smile at the memory—as though it was a cherished thing that had been living in your brain for years. She follows the loose narration your hands give as you speak. "He picked me up and spun me around and said something about telling his uncle, and then..."

You hesitate to say it, hiding your face a little behind your hands. Chrissy sighs heavily, playfully impatient with your slowly developing, weird relationship with Eddie. "What? What did he do?"

You blush and smile too wide. Your face hurts. "He said 'I fuckin' love you', and then drove off." You're suddenly really giddy. "He said he fuckin' loves me!" You beam at Chrissy before quickly backtracking. "I know it was probably just a figure of speech or something, right? Like, he doesn't actually love me, he was just super happy. Heat of the moment. Right?"

This left your mouth as a word vomit and, honestly, Chrissy just watched you with a wide range of emotions crossing her face. Confusion, joy, passive frustration, hints of awaiting sarcasm...

She shrugs a shoulder, sitting next to you on the bed and attempting to soothe your scorching nerves. "I mean, probably, but you spend so much time together... who knows," she smiled wide suddenly, "maybe he's coming around."

Your grin is hopeful, your eyes glisten as you smile at her and she smiles wider and chuckles at the look. "You think so?"

"Sure!" she exclaims, eager to get you to the optimistic side of things.

"Maybe you're right," you nod to assure yourself, hoping that saying it out loud will bring it into existence. "Maybe you're right." You breathe in and out and sit up straight, nodding once more before you turn your gaze to Chrissy again. You take her hands in yours and squeeze gently. "The concert's next week, I need you to help me get ready."

"Absolutely," she beams. "You couldn't pay me not to help."

You wrap your arms around her neck and pull her into a bone-crushing hug. Chrissy, a native to your affection, takes it with an excited laugh and no acknowledgement to your strength.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"Of course," she smiles, before pulling out of your arms and waving a playfully scolding finger at your face. "But you owe me."

You shrug. "I always do." You think for a moment. "We'll get lunch and go to the mall. Check out that store you like. An outfit of your choice, my treat."

"Deal," she said immediately. Rolling her eyes and smiling, she sighs dreamily. "I love leeching off rich people."

You roll your own eyes, not as dreamily. "You're also rich, Chris."

She shrugs, letting her shoulders sag lazily at her sides like a ragdoll. "I know, but you're my bitch."

You gasp dramatically. "Christina Elizabeth Cunningham! You watch your language."

She snorts. "Bitch, please."

You shove her back onto the bed and start for her kitchen. You're hungry and you're sure she hasn't eaten yet...

~

You close your locker with a snap. As you look up, you notice Tommy H on the other side, staring you down with an unimpressed look upon his face. You can see the rest of his group surrounding his locker to peer into the conversation, looking like a flock of pigeons—all bulgy eyes and flicking heads.

You sigh internally and turn to him, smiling as sweetly as you always do. "Hey, Tommy." You check your watch quickly.

"Hi," he says back, feeling slick.

You move your bag from your side to place your science books in, glancing at him as you do it. "Is there something I can help you with? I gotta get to class."

He leans his shoulder against the wall, crossing one leg over the other and stuffing his hands in the pockets of his lettermen. He shrugs his shoulders heavily, and your eyes fall on his Class of '85 patch—where it should now read '86 after an unfortunate grade point average in his last, slacked off year.

"You're hanging out with Munson now?" He raises a brow.

You sling your bag back over your shoulder. "Yeah?" You raised your brow, failing to see his point. "Is that supposed to be a problem or something?"

"I mean..." he trails off, laughing lightly like it's obvious. You just stare at him, almost looking clueless as he stumbles over his words to try and come up with an argument. He shrugs, "It's Munson."

You make a face. He scoffs.

"I mean, you seriously blew off a game for him?"

Oh. That makes more sense.

You've been hanging out with Eddie for months, and they haven't commented that much because you could do whatever you wanted because you... well, you're you.

But you did kiss the game last night. It wasn't a really serious one—at least, you don't think it was—and Eddie had a huge campaign he practically begged you to go to, and you accepted because you loved his campaigns way more than a stupid game (that, and the fact that you're head over heels in love with him). You told Chrissy, she covered for you.

You shrug. "We lost the game."

He scrambled for a comeback. "Yeah? Well, maybe we wouldn't have if you had been there. It's called moral support sweetheart."

You straighten your back and try not to make a face, continuing to remain friendly as you close your eyes. "First of all, don't call me that." He shrugs. "Second, there will be more games and more hangouts and whatever else. I'm hanging out with Eddie Munson, so what? He's my friend."

He scowls. "He's Eddie Munson."

You make a face, confusion raising your brow and lip. You pause, waiting for a follow-up. "You say that like it's supposed to prove a point."

Tommy scoffs. "Okay, how about this?" He towers over you, his elbow propped high up on your locker in an attempt to intimidate you. His red-freckled face is stern. "He's a freak."

He nearly spits the word in your face, and he smirks when he does it.

You tilt your head and smile.

"How about this..." You clear your throat and brush imaginary lint from his lettermen. "If you call Eddie a freak one more time," you look up at his face again, smiling a little sweeter and speaking a little slower, "I will personally see to it that my parents stop inviting yours to our parties."

His face pales.

"You'll be moved to our blacklist. From there, people will stop respecting you. And, by then, you'll be scrambling to get back in with us, and you'll look desperate doing it." Your eyes darken but your smile is perfectly intact as you watch his fear overcome him.

"I'll work you so far to the bottom that even the name Munson will hold less disdain in this town than Hagan." Your smile drops. You look cold.

"Do I make myself clear?"

He swallows thickly, finding his voice again after cracking on his first attempt. "Yeah." He clears his throat. "Yes."

"Great!" You clap once as you smile brightly once more. The warning bell cracks loudly, echoing through the halls with a shrill screech. Both you and the bell startle him as he flinches, sighing heavily as you pat your shoulder twice. "Thank you. Don't be late for class."

He hesitates, shaking his head and walking away to rejoin his posse pretending to not have been listening in to the conversation. "Yeah," he mumbles as you watch him leave.

"That was scary."

You turn and smile wide when you see Eddie, leaning on the lockers with an impressed look. "I can be very scary," you joke.

"Tell me about it." He rolls his eyes, and you lightly smack his shoulder at the insinuation. You both start walking down the hall to your shared science class. "What was that about?"

You glance over your shoulder to where Tommy and his friends are walking away, throwing half-hearted scowls at Eddie over their shoulders.

"Oh," you say, smiling to yourself almost maliciously. You shock Eddie for a moment with the brief look. "Just a little... nudge in the right direction."

His whole demeanor changes as he turns his body to face you, walking still as his feet side step to keep up with you. "Did you just threaten Tommy H for me?"

"'Course," you smile. "We're friends, Eddie, and I protect my friends... even if that means destroying social lives forever."

He sighs a laugh. "Startin' to think you like destroying social lives."

You both walk into class together just as the bell rings, moving to your seats as you lean in and whisper dramatically. "Only when they're assholes."

He gasps, clutching his imaginary pearls. "Has her majesty just spoiled her tongue with the dirty language of the peasants?" he exclaims quietly in his best posh, British accent.

"I'm afraid she has," you play along in an accent of your own, though it's not as perfect as his. He's got an impeccable accent. "It can be quite hard to keep one's tongue guarded when met with the incompetence of the lower class, or even that of the upper."

He snorted, "Then, forgive me, my liege. I shall do my best to keep you away from the clutches of the incompetent."

You both laugh quietly amongst yourselves.

"Remind me never to get on your bad side," he snorts again, shaking his head with a seeking shudder.

You wink at him. "Never get on my bad side."

You direct your attention to the teacher. Eddie watches the side of your face and laughs again, shaking his head and readjusting after spending too much time taking in the sight of the side of your face.

You're pretty. He hopes he never gets on your bad side.

~

With Chrissy out with Jason, you have no one to calm your nerves as the time for Eddie to come pick you up grows closer. You've already dressed in the clothes you both picked out, she'd done your makeup before she had to leave, and you're walking around your room in your heels as you await his arrival.

You check yourself in the mirror one last time before the sound of your doorbell echoes through the house. You grab your stuff faster than you've ever done anything in your life, rushing down the stairs dangerously fast in your heels and throwing the front door open before your father's hand can even brush the handle.

Upon seeing you answer, he decides to walk away. Whatever you want...

You open the door and smile wide at Eddie, ignoring how nervous you feel at the sight of yourself. You feel sort of...out of place. This isn't your vibe but you are hoping he likes it anyway.

Eddie's eyes bulge and his mouth drops open.

He takes you in. Dressed head to toe in leather, he eyes your little red skirt and your black bustier top decorated with red roses. It looks so tight, he wonders how you're still able to breathe. You've got a garter belt wrapped tightly around your thigh, just peeking out from under your skirt, in more black leather. In knee high platforms, you've gone up a couple more inches in height. Even your makeup, with sharp wings, a tiny eyeliner heart on the apple of your cheek, and red lipstick a dark shade of blood.

Eddie feels like he just fell fifty feet and smacked his face on concrete, knocking all the air from his lungs and making it impossible to breathe. You are drop dead gorgeous.

"Wow."

You don't take it as well as he expected, nerves sinking in as you look over yourself quickly, wiping your hands down the skirt. "Too much?"

He shakes his head. "You look..." he trails off, lost in thought before shaking his head to bring himself back, "great. Really great."

You take it for what it is and smile. "Thanks," you blush. "Chrissy helped. You don't look half bad yourself."

And you mean it. He's in nearly as much leather as you. With black leather pants that cling to his body like chains, lacing running up the sides that seem to make them even tighter, he looks like a rockstar in his old Metallica muscle tee (the one where the logo is so faded, you can hardly see it).

You're not surprised to see his leather jacket and his battle vest, nor are you to see him wearing his own eyeliner, an extra edge you've seen during his concerts at the Hideout—though yours is admittedly done better. His hair is frizzier than ever, a look you tried to copy as well as you could but believe you fell short on (Eddie thinks your aces).

Eddie shakes his head. "Wow," he mumbles again, more breathless this time.

"You said that already."

"My bad," he says, not meaning it.

You shake your head and smile sweetly. "No, it's nice."

After staring again for too long, he clears his throat and smiles again, returning to his stupid antics that make you laugh constantly, like you've gone insane.

"You ready to go?" he asks.

"Yeah." You turn and yell into the house, cupping your hands around your mouth as you do it. "Bye, Daddy! Bye, Mom!"

Your mother's voice calls back, "Be back by sundown."

"What your mother said," says your father.

You close the door and walk with Eddie. "Uhm," he says. "We will not be back by sundown."

"It doesn't matter," your shrug. "They say it more as a courtesy. They'll forget I'm even gone."

"Ah," he mutters, though you don't seem too fazed by it. Almost like this is the norm for you. Maybe it is...

He takes you to his van, opening your door like a gentleman and loading you in. He hops into his own seat, slamming his door extra hard because it's been pretty stubborn lately.

As soon as he starts the engine, his music blares through the speakers, "Holy Diver" by Dio. You flinch, shocked by the sound but not upset. He immediately goes to turn it down, and once he's dialed it one way, you dial it the other.

Eddie looks over at you, your head already banging to the music as you rock enthusiastically in your seat. He stares at you, his parted lips curling in a grin. He thinks you're amazing.

"Are we going?" you ask half-jokingly when you catch him staring, speaking so loud you nearly blow your vocal chords trying speak over the music. You poke his side.

He over-exaggerates, recoiling in on himself and flailing back against his window like he'd been shot. You roll your eyes. And he lays there for a while, really dragging it out until you lightly smack his shoulder. The music blares.

"Eddie!"

"Ow– Hey!" he exclaims, even though you barely touched him.

You shake your head. "Drive."

"Okay, bossy," he says. He turns the music down just a bit and starts down the road. It's still loud, and your parents might get a complaint, but it's unlikely because the neighbors would be too afraid of offending them.

He nods lightly to the music, turning it down another smudge to ask, "You hungry?" He looks at you with his big doe eyes. He's going to give you a hernia.

"Not much," you shrug. "You?"

He also shrugs, tapping the fingers of his left hand on the wheel. He leans on his right arm rest, glancing over at you. "I'm always down for food," he winks. "But we could probably wait 'til we get there."

"If you wanna eat, we can."

He shakes his head. "Nag, we'll have a shit ton of free time. We'll be, like," he checks the time, "three hours early."

You snort. He's usually three hours late.

"Okay," you nod. You turn to him, smiling. "Oh, we could check out this new place my parent's friend's daughter told me about."

He laughs lightly, "Is she not your friend?"

You shrug a shoulder. As far as your friendships go, you recognize you don't really have many. Chrissy is the love of your life, as you tell her constantly, but she's the only person you've held close to your heart for years.

But your parents are rich. Their friends' kids are supposed to be your friends, but you've never acclimated to that thinking.

"Eh," you mumble. "We don't really consider ourselves friends, we just know each other." Her parents are also rich, and she's within the same category as you.

He hums. "Yeah, we can check it out." He sets his hand closer to yours, his pinky brushing yours. To avoid seeming too intimate, not wanting to complicate the friendship you've created, he wraps his pinky with yours and shakes it around.

Not intimate, just friendly.

"Is it fancy?"

You shake your head. "Not really." I squeeze his finger, grabbing his hand in both yours and forming his to lace your fingers together. "My parents and their rich friends spoil me with expensive stuff all the time, so I like the cheaper stuff a little more."

You purse your lips, looking away from your hands to look at his face. "But I don't like telling people that because I feel like I sound bratty."

He shakes his head. "Nah, you're not bratty." He lets go of your hand and lightly nudges the side of your face with his palm. You snort, swatting his hand away. "You're just bossy."

"Shut up," you laugh.

His face lights up at the proof of him being right. "See?" he laughs. "You're bossy. You're so bossy!"

You roll your eyes at him, "If you weren't driving, I'd hit you."

His eyes widen. "You're violent," he accuses. "You're violent now!"

You groan loudly, turning away from him with the most exaggeration you can manage. He laughs loudly. It's a ridiculous guffaw, and you feel the van swerve a little. You're so used to his driving by now, though, that it doesn't faze you.

When his laughter dies down and you're urge to burst into your own fit of giggles eases with it, he sighs dramatically to announce the end of his joke. "So," he hums, "if I gave you the choice to go someplace fancy with the best steak in town or a McDonald's," he leans toward you, tearing his eyes from the road at a stoplight to look at you, "what are you picking?"

You let a slow smile spread across your lips as you look at his stupid face with his stupid eyes and his stupid nose, and his stupid lips. You chuckle lightly, taking him in some more. "Well, you can't beat those nuggets."

He laughs again, still just as loud and dramatic as the first one. You love it, and you can't help but to laugh with him this time.

"No, you can't." He smiles at you, staring at your face a little longer than he probably should.

Eddie jumps when a loud honk interrupts his examination. Turning to the light, he sees that it is a very bright green. "Shit," he curses under his breath as he steps on the gas.

The van jolts, but your gaze lingered on him too long to notice. A slip of anxiety creeps up on you as a thought flashes behind your eyes. You hook your finger through one of the holes in your fishnets. You lean on your armrest. "Was that your way of asking me out, or am I dreaming?" You say it with enough amusement coloring your voice that it gives you the option to back out of it as a joke as soon as it is required.

And it was required.

"Fast asleep, Princess," he smiles, chuckling lightly as his eyes stay on the road in front of him. You ignore the stutter in your heart, covering your disappointment with a chuckle of your own and roll your eyes.

"Playing hard to get, huh?" you joke, trying not to be too sad about his lack of falling in love with you. You've still got him, even if you don't have him in your arms.

Eddie's fingers reach for the dashboard as he turns up the radio, turning the heavy rock up louder and louder. "What?" he shouts over the music, drowning your giggles in the song (though he can still hear them because he's listening very specifically for them). "I can't hear you over the music. What did you say?"

You smack his shoulder, giddy with his jokes. "Asshole!" you exclaim, crossing your arms in a faux pout. You both laugh out loud, big and dramatic and happy to be there. And as he turns down the radio before he blows your precious eardrums, he finds himself oddly tender with the sound of your joy. His fingers tighten around the steering wheel as he has to breathe a little more to steady his traitor of a heart.

~

You're nearly late, despite arriving there a whole hour early. Eddie had found a McDonald's and got so caught up in taking you that you both lost the time. You were in the middle of wiping Sweet N Sour sauce off his face when you realized it on the hands of your watch.

You almost got pulled over twice.

But you get there just as the lights are dimming. It's a huge opener—guitars and drums and screaming vocals, fans cheering and crying, headbanging and jumping and a couple of already too-drunk patrons puking in the back.

Eddie is ecstatic. He loves every part of it—the screaming, the crying, the puking. He takes it all in stride and stands really close to you as he does it.

He keeps looking at your face. Through the haze of flashing lights and so much excitement his heart might stop, he keeps looking at your face. You're really pretty, dressed in his style, smiling like a maniac, dancing to his music.

He was so scared you would hate it, this scene, his scene. He was scared you were going to show up and stand uncomfortably, smile in that people-pleasing way and bear through it until it was over.

But you don't.

You're beautiful. You glow under the lights, you're wonderful as you dance and sway and headbang to hell.

You keep smiling at him. You keep grabbing his hands and jumping to the beat of the music, and he jumps with you and he holds your hands. He can't help but adore you.

Part of him hopes it doesn't stick. He's not sure he could handle his heart beating this fast.

By the time the concert is over, you're both sweaty and hyped and tired but so happy. You both flash your VIP passes—you more confidently than him—and rush backstage with all the other VIPs.

He's buzzing with excitement as his sweaty hand shakes that of each member of the band. He does it wide-eyed, gleaming and entirely unbelieving. If his other hand was gripping yours, he'd think this was a dream.

A really freaky, amazing dream.

You both get shirts, personal autographs, and a lifelong experience that you load into his van with buzzing and heavy limbs. He helps you in, closing your door like a gentleman, and you slump against your seat.

Eddie gets in, slamming his door shut because it's a little stubborn. He starts the engine and turns the radio down all the way to a gentle background hum.

He doesn't turn his eyes toward you until he's pulled out of the insanity that is leaving the parking lot. When he glances over at you, you're asleep.

He'd wanted to thank you.

You're really pretty like this: eyes delicately closed, lips slightly parted. Granted, you're always pretty.

He has to look away before his chest starts hurting again.

Fuck.

He looks away from you quickly, gripping the wheel to get a handle on himself. He didn't mean to do this, to like you. Being friends was one thing, becoming best friends was another...

But actually starting to like you...

He isn't supposed to. You don't live in his world. He doesn't live in yours. More than that...

Actually, he's not sure. He just knows that... he wasn't supposed to begin liking you. His feelings for you were supposed to remain platonic.

But now he's not so sure.

There are a couple things he's sure of though.

You're beautiful, dressed like a metalhead or a cheerleader, you're beautiful. And he adores you, inside and out. And he wants you to know that.

~

"Hey, Princess."

You turn, giving Eddie a wide smile as he walks up to your locker. He's got his hand behind his back in an obvious, and you laugh at that as you adjust your bag on your shoulder. "Hi, Eddie."

He leans on your locker, nervous and proud at the same time as he smiles. His hair is freshly washed—still damp and curly with conditioner. It'll be fully frizzed by the end of the day, you know it.

"I got you something. Well, I made you something," he says. "Close your eyes." You do as you're told, smiling as you do. "Give me your hand."

You're almost giddy as you lift it, presenting it to him. He sets something in your palm. It's light, your brows furrow.

"Okay, open."

You do, looking at your palm. Your smile falls a little as you look at it. A bracelet made with black leather, braided together with a few little silver beads woven in. You look at the silver charm. A skull with a crown on it.

He made this himself.

"Eddie..." You swallow thickly, blinking quickly so you aren't crying your mascara off. People don't do things like this for you—no one but Chrissy.

"Do you hate it?" There's an anxiety there that kick-starts your heart. He braces himself for a 'yes' before you have to remind him that you're you, and you're deeply in love with him.

"I love it," you urge him, using your best smile to convince him of that fact. "It's beautiful."

Hope sparks in his eyes. He smiles a bit. "Really?"

"Yeah!" you promise. "I'll wear it forever."

You shove it in his hand, and he immediately understands your request without you even having to ask. You hold out your wrist as he fastens the bracelet on. It's a perfect fit.

You coo as you look at it. "I really love this, Eddie..." Then suddenly, "Oh! This reminds me. I got this for you–"

"No, no," he stops you, holding out a hand as you reach into your locker. "This was a gift. I'm gifting this to you."

You slump slightly, your smile falling into a confused frown as you sigh. "But..." you fiddle with the charm, "I wanna pay you back."

He shakes his head, not unkindly. "No need. I technically owe you a lot, I'm sure those tickets were expensive as hell."

You're feeling a little...nervous. No one refuses gifts from you, ever—except Chrissy, when they're really excessive. But this isn't. It's just an Iron Maiden vinyl record, one of those limited addition ones you have to really look for.

Your parents had bought it a while back at an auction because a lot of people were bidding on it. But it just sits in a case in the living room collecting dust—they don't listen to that kind of music. They only got it because a lot of people wanted it.

Eddie would like it. He'd appreciate it...

"But–"

"No buts," he says, his tone final. "Let me do this for you."

You pull your hand away from your locker, sighing. You nod slowly, offering a weak smile. "Okay..."

This isn't the last time that happens. Through the next few weeks, Eddie keeps declining your gifts. You try to give him the record, but before you can even get the words "I got you something" past your lips, he's telling you that you don't need to get him anything and giving you his own gift instead.

You feel like you've done something wrong.

He's giving you a lot of gifts. It's becoming harder and harder to accept them, but you couldn't stand refusing one of the presents he's made specially or used hard-earned money on for you. You couldn't do that to him, it would break his heart. But...

It's a lot of gifts. And he isn't even letting you repay the favor to make it even.

There's a problem. You just don't know what. So you do the only thing you can do.

You ask Chrissy.

You walk up the steps to Chrissy's house, pushing the door open and heading straight up the stairs.

"Hello, Y/N," Chrissy's father calls, not lifting his eyes from his newspaper.

"Hi, Mr. Cunningham." You go down the hall, barging through Chrissy's door and closing it tightly behind you. She steps out of her closet, her brows furrowed as she looks at you. Though she's unsurprised.

She does this to you almost as often as you do to her, though you have admittedly more drama than her. You're more radioactive than she is.

"We have a crisis." You plop down on her bed.

She leans on the frame of her closet door, crossing her arms over her chest. "What crisis?"

You lay down, covering your face with your hands and, in doing so, muffling your words. "I think Eddie's mad at me."

She understands you perfectly. "Why?" she asks as she walks over and sets her hands on your thighs, leaning over you. You look at her. "What happened?"

"He's not taking any of my gifts anymore!" You sit up on your hands, but she doesn't move. "I'm trying to give him stuff 'cause he keeps getting me stuff. I mean, whenever I'm mad at my parents, and they try to bribe me to get over it, I just don't accept their gifts."

She shrugs. "Okay," she thinks. She moves off of you, walking back to her closet. "But why would he give you things if he was mad at you?" She disappears inside. "Besides, what have you done?"

You stand, following her in. She's sifting through her wardrobe, looking for her outfit for tomorrow. She does it every day, usually with your help.

"I don't know!" you sigh, looking through her choice of skirts. "That's why I'm worried. I don't know what I've done, and guys are weird."

She holds up two skirts to show you: one short and flowy pale blue and one bright pink two sizes too small. You hum, picking the blue. The pink doesn't suit her skin anyway.

"Or maybe," you continue, "maybe he thinks I'm mad at him, and that's why he keeps giving me stuff."

She shakes her head. "I think you're reading too much into this, babe."

Your head shake is far more intense than hers. "I am reading perfectly into this. I show my love by buying people things, I gift give! I'm basically Santa as a teenage girl. Here." You pass her a white shirt, long sleeved and pretty.

She takes it. "Thanks." Then she hums. "Interesting analogy."

You shrug, sitting on the little stool in her closet with a sigh. "I mean, how would Santa feel if kids just...stopped taking his gifts and started giving him a whole bunch of them?"

Probably special, Chrissy thinks.

"He'd be frantic!"

Chrissy can't help but giggle lightly at that. She loves you, but you're a little ridiculous sometimes. She shakes her head and turns to you and picks up two pairs of shoes. She holds them up as she kneels in front of you, showing them off. "Have you tried talking to him?"

You choose the white sneakers over the black flats. "I don't want to say something bad and mess this up." You rest your chin in your hand. "We were doing so well."

She sighs, setting both pairs down. "I'm sure it's not as bad as you think."

You sigh. "You're right." And then you stand. "It's worse."

She stands and places her hands on your shoulders, making you sit again. "Okay, maybe you're exaggerating this a little bit."

Your shoulders slump. "Am I?"

"Yes." She laughs lightly to take the weight off it. She breathes in slowly. "Take a breath. Calm down."

She takes your head and takes you back into her bedroom, making you sit on the bed. She sits across from her, her legs crossed as she sways some hair behind her ear. She takes your hands.

"Eddie is not rich, he doesn't have a lot of money like your family," she begins to explain. "People who are not rich don't always enjoy accepting gifts because it makes them feel like they're inconveniencing you."

Your brows pull together, and you frown. "He's not an inconvenience."

"I know," she smiles. It looks beautiful on her. "He's already gotten so much stuff from you, plus those tickets? I'm not surprised he's trying to pay you back. He's not going to let you give him anything else until he feels like he has."

You assume the worst, looking down at your joined hands and sighing. "So that we're even, and he can stop feeling obligated to be friends with me."

"No," she urges. "So he can stop thinking that you might think he's using you for your money." She shrugs, "He probably just feels bad."

You think about her reasoning. Her explanation actually makes way more sense than your own.

"Yeah," she says. "Just talk to him. I'm sure it's just that."

You sigh, covering your face. "This is so weird."

She takes your wrists, pulling them away. Her voice takes on an annoyed tone. You can practically hear her eye rolls. "Because most of the people who are 'friends' with you are only friends because you buy them nice things."

You nod. "Yeah."

"Except for me, of course," she smiles, almost proudly.

You chuckle. "Except for you."

She sighs, letting go of you and shoving you to stand. "Go talk to Eddie."

You take a breath. "Okay..." You give her your best smile. "Thanks, Chris. You're the best." You kiss her cheek on the way out as you turn toward the door.

"I know," she says matter-of-factly. "Love you."

You open her door, peering your head in. You kiss at her. "Love you back."

She begins to stand. "Also," she looks back at you, tilting her head, "tell your bitch mom to stop shrinking your clothes so she can loosen them. She's an ugly old hag–"

"Y/N!"

"–and you're beautiful and perfect, and I love you. I'm serious, I'll beat her ass."

"Leave!" She closes the door in your face, but you know she's laughing on the other side, grateful for your comments.

~

Eddie is sitting on the porch with his acoustic when you drive up. The engine halts when you pull out your key, standing and closing the door behind you. He likes your car. It's sleek and beautiful. Very expensive because your parents bought it for you when you first got your license.

He keeps strumming his guitar as you make your way up the stairs. "Hey, Princess," he greets you.

"Hey," you mutter, the nerves grabbing at your throat as you come to stand next to him. You fidget with your fingers, sitting next to him on the bench.

"Eds, can we talk?"

He hums, still strumming. "About what?" When you don't respond, he looks up at you. He stops, moving his guitar off his lap with furrowed brows.

"Woah," he says, noticing your worried face. "What's wrong?"

You take a moment to think, sighing as you try to figure out what you were going to say. You rehearsed it in the car, thoroughly, and it's all blanking staring at his wide eyes, brown as coffee.

"Are you mad at me?"

He looks confused. "Why would you think that?" He grabs your hand, and you don't know if you're imagining his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

"Because you aren't letting me gift you things."

He doesn't do what you expect—though you're not entirely sure what you were expecting. Eddie smiles, a wide thing that splits his face in two. His eyes almost look like they're shining as he looks at you. You don't feel patronized when he does it, either. It's oddly warming.

"You think I'm mad at you because I'm not letting you gift me things?" he clarifies, almost shocked, though he knows he shouldn't be.

So he's not mad at you? That makes you feel a little better...

"Well," you sigh. "When my parents and I argue, they buy me things to make me feel better. I always say no."

He softens, smiling gently and taking your hand between his. "Sweetheart," he says slowly, "I'm not mad at you. I just don't want you to think I only like you for your money, especially after that concert. That's a huge gesture for someone you only started hanging out with two months ago."

You sigh, looking away from his eyes to think. Chrissy was right, he feels guilty for accepting your gifts. This whole thing is new to you. You're so used up from serving everybody else. Now someone is trying to serve you, and you completely mistook it for anger...

"I'm not used to that," you admit.

"To what?"

You shrug, "People not accepting gifts from me... other than Chrissy." You smile a little, but it falls quickly. Sighing, you look back up at him, squeezing his hands just a slight. "Most of my friends are friends because I bought them their prom tickets last year or invited them to a party or something."

Eddie smiles again. He seems to scoot closer to you, both your thighs squishing together and leaving no space between your bodies. He nudges your shoulder and then pushes you away a bit because he's too affectionate. "I don't like you because you have money and buy me nice things." He chuckles lightly. "Actually, the reason I didn't like you in the first place was because you have money and buy people nice things."

You smile a little and Eddie feels like the special-est person on Earth. He knows it's silly and too affectionate but he can't help it. Eddie's crooked finger hooks underneath your chin and lifts it to look right at him. "I like you for you."

It's moments like these when your love for Eddie can't be measured. It's moments like these when your love for Eddie feels more mature than a schoolgirl crush. It's that moment when you're imagining more than parties or prom or dates or celebrations, when your mind is full of thoughts of sitting quietly in the living room or watching a movie at three o'clock in the afternoon because it's a stay-at-home-day or fixing dinner as he wraps his arms around your waist and sets his chin on your shoulder or reading a book while he scratches his head and files taxes at the kitchen table.

You smile fondly, and Eddie thinks you're the strongest whiskey because he gets dizzy at the sight of you.

"Really?" you mumble, your voice soft and sweet.

"Yeah," he nods. "You're awesome, sweetheart."

You love when Eddie calls you 'Princess' in that funny, affectionate way, but when he calls you 'sweetheart; you lose all your senses in the blink of an eye.

"Really?" It's the only thing you can think to say.

"Absolutely."

"Okay..."

Then you get brave—as brave as you can get. Licking your bottom lip, you look down at your lap and smile nervously. To have to gather the courage to look him in the eye as you smile gently at him. "You know how you can repay me for the concert?"

He laughs, shaking his head. "How?"

You bite the inside of your cheek, another breath for courage—"Go to prom with me?"

Eddie's smile falls. "I-"

"You don't have to go as my date. I just don't want to go alone," you say quickly, trying not to trap him or manipulate him or make him think you're trying to do either. "Chrissy's going with Jason, and I don't want to be a third wheel..." You sigh, looking him in the eyes and feeling your heart palpitating.

"Please?"

You're going to kill him one day, he's sure of it. The way his heart kicks at the sight of your pleading eyes is fatal, and he knows it because he can feel it in his chest. He sighs. It's his own fault. He let you be friends, and now he's head over heels...

"...Sure," he agrees. When you beam at him, the largest grin he's ever seen in his life, it's all worth it, his stupidity. "We'll go together."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he says. "Just two friends...going to prom."

You'll take that. You would take a million "just two friends" over "we don't talk anymore". You'd do anything for him. "Yeah," you smile. "Thanks, Eds."

It's all worth it to see you smile. "No problem."

~

Eddie's nervous. You can tell in the way he keeps bumping into you. You would dismiss it as just the way the place is crowded, stocked to the brim with sweaty bodies, some already drunk in the first hour and others high.

Eddie's been to parties before, obviously. He's done senior year three times, of course he's been to parties.

But he's not used to being around so many people and not being stared at. Almost no one is looking at him.

"Why are we going to this thing again?" he'd asked as you were getting ready.

You shrugged. "It's pre-prom."

"But there's actual prom."

You smoothed out your lipstick before you turned to him. "Yeah, but actual prom is kinda boring 'cause of the family-friendly rules. Pre-prom is hosted by students with no real adult supervision, so...less boring." You shrugged again, turning away to fix a stray hair. "Besides, I have to make an appearance. Me and Chrissy since we're in the running for Prom Queen. Otherwise, we get no votes."

"People'll vote for you anyway," he smiled.

"I always just want a drink or two."

He laughed a little. "We can just go to my place then." When you shook your head and laughed at him, he did the same. "Why am I going?"

"Because you have to. 'Cause you're my date." You turned quickly, eyes wide and hands out, "My plus one." You think about it for a moment. "My friend-date."

"Your date," he agrees, nodding and laughing and hoping you don't freak out because he called himself your date when you're just going as friends. Just friends.

"Yeah, I'll go with you, Princess." He sighs dramatically so he doesn't sound too wistful.

But now he wishes he'd convinced you to just go to his place and lounge on his couch, watching stupid movies and eating popcorn and then throwing popcorn at the screen when they do something stupid.

He holds your hand. You squeeze it, pulling him further inside with you and comforting him with all you have.

It becomes easier when you find Chrissy. Chrissy is very welcoming and helps you help Eddie settle because she's sweet and you're sweet and he loves you—your sweetness—he loves your sweetness.

When he has a beer in his hand—his only beer tonight, he's decided—and your hand in his other, he's laughing and letting you dance around him. Some people get upset with him when he accidentally bumps into them, and others give him dirty looks for the sake of giving dirty looks, but under the light in your eyes, he doesn't care. He doesn't even notice.

He watches your nose scrunch up in that adorable way that means you're truly happy. He keeps looking at you with the fondest eyes and the gentlest touches and the most wonderful smiles. You can't take it—he's so pretty with his doe eyes and smile lines and long lashes and his big nose and crazy hair and plump lips.

"Quit smiling at me," you giggle, pulling on his hand in yours. "I can't focus when you look at me like that."

"Like what?" he laughs. Then he makes a face, his eyes going wide and his smile showing all his teeth and his brows pulling together goofily. "Like this?"

"No, not like that," you laugh, smacking his shoulder lightly. He hears a squeak in your giggle and is thrown into his own fit. All your best laughs have squeaks in them. "Go back to how you were!"

You're both too sweet on each other, and he laces your fingers together to make sure you can't go away—even though you'd never.

"Oh, so now you want me to look at you?" he hums.

"Just not like a crazy person." He pulls you in so you're flat against his chest, and you don't have time to let your breath hitch until he's spinning you out again.

"How does a crazy person look?" He sets his beer down, pushing his hands into his hair and shaking it up. It sticks out all kinds of ways, a total mess.

"Like that," you nod dramatically.

"Like that?"

"Yeah." You add to the madness, your fingers carding through his hair. "Certified insane. It's a good look on you."

He snorts, fixing his hair again, "Yeah, I think so, too." When it's only in slight disarray, he sighs and looks down at you.

Eddie thinks you're beautiful. He likes your hair and your face and your soft hands and your pretty lips and bright eyes. He wants to hug you, but he'll settle for taking your hand when he realizes he's been staring at you for too long.

He starts pulling you with him as he walks. "Come on. I–"

A surprised gasp forces its way from your chest. You don't have time to process what's happening until after it's done. All you know is that it gets really cold and wet, and now your white dress is stained a bright red.

A round of snickering is heard above you. You look up to see a group of boys laughing obnoxiously over the stairs, a large bowl once filled with punch braced in their hands as they do. Everyone stands in shock, all talk ceasing when they see the sight of you drenched in red and these boys cracking up from it. It takes them a moment to catch wise...

Eddie is the first one to snap out of the shock, ignoring his hand, sleeve, and shoes just as wet. He mumbles something under his breath. Even in the relative silence, you don't make out the tiny "baby" that slips from his lips.

He sees your bottom lip tremble, your lashes already clumped with punch now clumping with the oncoming tears. The sudden urge to make everything okay again fills every inch of his bones. And as he looks up at these boys who'd hurt you, he wants nothing more than to let his fist meet pompous cheekbones.

"Tommy?" Your voice is meek, wavering with a brimming sorrow.

The other boys stop laughing immediately, looking down at you as their eyes fill with shock...and even fear. Tommy H, the main culprit, isn't so quick. When he notices their sudden change, he looks down as well.

That was meant for Eddie. Not you.

Now he knows fear.

Eddie watches your face contort even more until you're crying, tears falling down your cheeks and adding to the mess. He reaches out for your face, but you don't seem to notice as you rush past him, sniffles and all.

Eddie doesn't even get to shoot Tommy a threatening glare. He completely forgets about him for the moment in favor of following you through the house and out of the door, his shoes squeak-squeaking behind him.

He guesses you notice him following, because you reach a hand out behind you and catch his as you continue running out. Everyone parts ways, letting you pass without trouble. Eddie hears shouting behind him but keeps after you without a second thought.

You make it all the way to his van, parked outside in the crowded mess of cars and trucks. He opens the back doors for you so you can sit properly. You do, dropping your face in your hands as your chest heaves and you sob.

"Are you okay?" he asks, almost frantically. He runs his hands through your hair and gets you to look up at him so he can see your face clearly. It's covered in tears and punch and running mascara.

That same silent "oh, baby," passes his lips again, but you can hardly see the movement of it through your tears, so it's lost on you once more. Eddie's hands move to cradle your face. You keep sniffling, letting your body shake with shuddering breaths.

A horrible feeling curls in his chest. "Jesus," he mutters ruefully. "I should go back there and beat his ass."

He looks in the direction of the house, but you're already stopping him. "No, wait," you sniff. "It's okay."

But he's pissed. "No, it definitely is not okay–"

He's cut off by the sound of the front door opening forcefully. You both turn to see what's happening. As soon as you see Tommy H's freckled face, you hide in Eddie's chest. His gentle hands keep you there, rubbing and comforting you.

Tommy's running. He and the friends who hadn't escaped bolt from the house faster than Eddie thinks he's ever seen anyone run.

Someone hollers inside, and suddenly the entire football team is chasing after the boys, shouting and whooping and out for blood in the cover of street lamps in the night.

Directly behind them, Chrissy, Steve Harrington, and some brown-haired girl, stand by the door. They look after the boys but ultimately turn toward you. Chrissy doesn't look at all worried.

Eddie's attention is caught by a shouting voice.

"Y/N!" Jason Carver yells. "Do you need a ride home?"

You look up from Eddie's chest, wipe your face a little, and shake your head. "No. Eddie's taking me." You sniffle pitifully, "But thank you, Jason."

He nods, "No problem." Turning to Eddie, he raises his finger in a harsh point. "Take her home safe, Munson, or I'll skin you like a cat." He turns in the direction they're running, still in sight. He shouts loudly. "You better fucking run, you son of a bitch!"

"Hey, it's okay," you say, "You can let Tommy go." Eddie looks at you, obviously disagreeing, but says nothing.

Jason makes a face. "Why would I do that?" Then he's off again, shouting after the team and the runners.

You look toward the figures walking toward you and Eddie. Chrissy shakes her head gently, seemingly amused (only to you) but not smiling. Steve's expression is completely different, as he looks genuinely concerned but ultimately sympathetic. The other girl looks worried.

"Hey, you okay?" Steve asks, setting his hands on his hips and leaning.

You nod, wiping your nose and rubbing your hands on your wet clothes. It's not coming out. "Yeah..." you mumble, squeezing a couple tears out.

He sighs, "Tommy's way outta line for that one. I'm sorry, princess."

Eddie gets jealous for a moment that he's called you by his name for you before he remembers... Everyone calls you princess. It's basically your name.

"S'okay."

You glance at the girl, who gives a small nervous smile. She mouths silently, "I'm Robin." You give her the best smile you can manage. "Hope you're okay," she says gently.

Chrissy nods gently to herself. She shoots you a look, "Don't catch a cold." She looks at Eddie. "Get home safe. Both of you. Bye, babe."

You wave at her, a tiny lift of your hand from your lap. Another tear slips down your cheek.

"Come on, sweetheart."

Eddie braces a hand behind your back and eases you to stand. You do, taking his hand and letting him lead you. Steve pats his back gently before he's stepping away. Eddie closes the back door and opens your own like a gentleman. The three wave their goodbyes and start back toward the house.

He closes your door and goes to his side. The engine roars to life after having to twist the key a couple times. He starts driving. You're really quiet.

Eddie reaches a hand down and sets it gently on your knee, hoping it's not weird but also too worried about you to care. "Are you okay, Princess?"

You nod. "Yeah." You take in a large breath.

He shakes his head, his hand flexing on the wheel. "Why would you want them to let him go?" He hates the idea of someone hurting you and getting away with it. You deserve so much more.

"Hm?" You look at him, wiping the tears in your eyes. "Oh, I don't." You clear your throat and sniff. As you lick your lips, your face scrunches at the taste of alcoholic punch and lipstick. Eddie watches you try to wipe your face clean as best you can with your hands.

Your face scrunches. "Shit, I'm all sticky now."

Eddie's going to get whiplash.

"What?"

"Hm?" you look at him again. All evidence of your crying is gone. Your teary eyes are now only slightly watering, with your face kind of clean, no new fresh tears take their place. The sadness is wiped clean. You look back at him with the least amount of sorrow he's ever seen on you.

When you feel the van turning, you say his name and it swerves back in place. He puts his other hand back on the wheel.

"You were faking it?"

Suddenly, you smile. Eddie can't stand you.

"Of course," you say, shrugging. "It's just punch."

He sighs, feeling a little stupid but mostly just...amused. And really fucking relieved. He hates seeing you cry. You deserve so much more.

"I thought you were upset."

You laugh and he no longer has any reason to be upset. "No," you chuckle, "but Tommy's not happy."

He shakes his head. "I'm so confused."

You smile and sigh gently. "Thomas Hagan just poured a whole punch bowl on me—" you make doe eyes, "—the sweet, innocent princess of Hawkins—and then laughed his ass off like it was the funniest shit in the world." You shake your head, not at all upset. "He's not coming back from that."

Eddie smiles slowly. You're enjoying this. "You little–"

"He'll be blacklisted. No more hangouts, no more parties. He's done."

Eddie can't believe you. "Manipulative."

You pinch your fingers slightly and smile as you look through them. "Just a little."

"You're seriously not upset?" he wonders.

You're drenched head to toe, your hair is clumpy, your skin is sticky, your makeup is running all over your face, and your dress is forever ruined. But you're smiling like all is well with the world.

Again, you shrug. "I'll have to take a long shower now, but I'm okay."

He snorts lightly. "I bet."

You lean in slowly, smirking and bobbing your brows. "Never get on my bad side." A reminder. The one he asked for the last time Tommy had done something unbecoming.

And Eddie laughs. Not because he doesn't take you seriously, but because he just likes you so much. You are... everything to him.

Doing his best to keep his eyes on the road, he laughs loudly and fills the van with the sound of it. You get giddy at accomplishing such a feat and can't help but laugh with him. It's loud and obnoxious and just what you both needed. Warmth blooms in your chest, despite the cold shivers coming in, and you couldn't be happier.

~

Eddie pulls up on the curb, opening your door—like a gentleman—and helping you out. You mumble a quick apology about his sticky seats, to which he replies that those seats have seen worse. You don't know what he means, but you're hoping your idea is wrong.

In the driveway, yours and your dad's cars are parked and idle. Your mother is gone on a business trip—her boss' secretary—so he's probably home alone.

"Play it cool," you whisper to Eddie as you get to the door, messing with your sticky hair to make it look worse than it is. "How do I look?"

"Terrible," he lies.

"Great," you beam. You let your face fall immediately, and you look pitifully pretty.

You take Eddie's hand and let him open the door for you. As he's closing it, you glance around. "Daddy?"

"Yes, honey." You hear his footsteps as he enters the foyer. He turns the corner, "I thought you would be out longer–"

He looks up, stopping abruptly as he realizes what a mess you are. He furrows his brows, walking closer. "What happened to you?" He goes in to hug you, pausing when he sniffs. "Why do you smell like that?"

"Just..." you sniffle and Eddie watches a tear slip down your cheek. He thinks you're ridiculous, and he loves every moment of it. "Something happened at the party."

He picks up your hands and holds them in his palms. "What happened?"

You shake your head, looking down at the buttons of his shirt. Eddie stands close behind you, a hand on your back for support. It's warm, and you like the feeling of it. "Nothing."

"No," your father hums, tilting your chin up to look at him, "tell me."

You take in a big breath and let it out in a sigh. Your bottom lip trembles. "Tommy H," you confess. "He poured punch over my head on top of the stairs." You will more tears from your eyes. Your breath hitches, and you shake your head, "I'm sure it was an accident... He probably didn't mean to do it."

Technically, he didn't. It was meant for Eddie. But that's no better. You did warn him.

He raises a brow. "It looks like he spilled the whole bowl on you." He looks at his hand, red fruit punch staining his palm now.

You nod, a slow up and down that has him frowning deeper.

"Hey," he hums. "He won't mess with you anymore."

"Really?"

He nods, holding your chin. "Of course. No one messes with my little girl and gets away with it. We're cutting him off."

Bingo.

You shake your head, "It's okay. You don't have to do that."

He smiles gently, "But I will." He nudges your chin gently before letting you go. "Go get washed up."

He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and begins wiping his hands clean. "Thank you, Daddy." You would hug him, but you're still sticky. You're sure he wouldn't mind, but you'd rather avoid the mess anyway.

"Of course, honey." You kiss his cheek as you turn toward the stairs with Eddie's hand in yours. As his foot lands on the first stair, your father stops him.

"Hey."

Eddie turns.

"Did you drive her home?"

"Yes, sir."

He grunts. "Did you beat that Tommy kid up?"

Eddie shakes his head. "No, sir. Jockeys had him," he looks at you, spying a gleam in your eyes and smiling a bit. "I was just trying to get her home."

There's a short silence as your father smiles. He gives a firm nod, "Good man."

Relief fills his chest as he nods back. "Thank you, sir." You pull him up the stairs. He takes off his jacket.

You close the door behind him, your smile returning as you kick off your shoes. "Not only did we blacklist Tommy," you turn back to him, "but my dad also loves you now. Congrats."

Eddie furrows his brow as he heads toward your bathroom. "He does?" He turns on the sink, washing his sticky hands.

You nod. "Yeah." You disappear into your closet, coming back a moment later with a towel on your arm. "That's fatherly approval. You defended my honor, my knight in shining armor."

You take his arm and kiss his cheek as you walk past him. He feels giddy. "At least someone's parents love me." He starts taking off his shoes, setting them next to yours. Eddie sits at the edge of your bed.

You snort. "I'm gonna take a shower. Don't be a perv."

He kicks the floor playfully and sighs. "Ruined my whole night."

You point at him threateningly. "I'll tell my dad on you."

"I'll take pictures with me then. To remember you by." He winks.

You return the wink. "I'll make sure to pose for you."

You disappear into the bathroom, closing the door behind you. Eddie sits in your room, smiling pathetically, so happy that you're okay and he's okay and he's your knight in shining armor.

Here he is, smiling like an idiot, surrounded by the scent of you in your room with all your pictures and all your knick-knacks. He slides onto the floor, resting his head back on the mattress. God, he's in trouble.

He's flipping through one of the books on your shelves when you come out, a cloud of steam following you as you dry your hair. He looks over your outfit, smiling but offering you a confused look.

"Is that mine?"

You look down at your shirt, one of his band tees that you'd taken a couple weeks ago. He'd been looking for that. You can keep it.

"Yeah," you nod. "I stole it from your room."

He chuckles. "Well, finders, keepers, I guess."

You smile, walking toward your drawer stocked with VHS tapes. "You wanna watch a movie? I can go make popcorn."

"Sure." He raises his brows. "Can I take a shower? I don't wanna get spiked punch everywhere."

You snort. "Course. There are towels in there, and some of your clothes are in my closet."

He tilts his head, sighing. "How many of my clothes have you stolen?"

You raise your hands in defense. "Just a few shirts and like...one pair of sweatpants."

He shakes his head at you as he goes to get a pair. He closes the bathroom door softly behind him.

He likes your bathroom. It's clean and mostly organized. It smells like lavender and rose, pearly whites and pale blues. He almost expected pink.

~

Eddie appreciated the weight of your body against his as you lean into his side. Labyrinth plays on the TV as the minutes tick by into the night.

He keeps looking at you, your heavy eyes drooping as you struggle to stay awake. It's late. You should be sleeping, but you're staying awake for him. It takes a lot not to turn his head and kiss the top of your own.

"You're warm," you mumble.

He smiles a little. "Yeah?" With the arm thrown over your shoulders, his fingers play with your hair. "You gettin' sleepy?" He knows the answer.

You nod, a sluggish movement against his arm. "Mhm."

He picks up the remote slowly, turning down the TV just a little more. "You should go to sleep then."

Your body becomes a little heavier against him. He takes all your weight, proud to. "Mmm," you slur. "Finish the movie."

A very light chuckle, as light as he can make it, eases from his chest. "We can finish it another time," he says so, so softly.

"No...Watch it now."

He does kiss your hairline this time, leaning his cheek on the top of your head. "Go to sleep, bossy."

He's not sure if you mean to say it, he's not even sure if you know you've said it. But when you whisper that little "love you", he loses his mind.

He smiles so wide, he feels his whole face start to hurt. He hadn't realized it would make him so happy to hear that, to hear your little confession spoken gently into the warmth of his chest. He turns his head so his words go into your hair. "Yeah?"

"Mmm."

He opens his mouth, thinks, and smiles. "I love you, too, baby."

You hum, and then he feels you slump. He doesn't mind. He doesn't mind the way he can't move his arm, he doesn't mind the way your hair gets in his face. He turns off the TV, leans back as slowly as he can, and lays the both of you down against your pillow to sleep.

You love him.

~

The entire day consists of Chrissy at your place getting ready for prom. The music doesn't stop and neither does the energy. You keep her happy and entertained and well-fed and then distracted again with more excitement so she doesn't get self-conscious and start panicking.

You also spend a lot of time keeping all the parents from the room. Your mothers keep trying to "help", and you keep having to kick them out because they're both annoying and overbearing.

Eddie keeps calling you. The walky-talky Dustin gave you both goes off regularly, at least once an hour to ask a question you'd had answered for days now.

"It is red, right? Not blue? It can't be blue; Chrissy's wearing blue." "Which knot are we doing on the bowtie? Wayne only knows the simple one but he's got a magazine with the other ones." "Am I leaving my hair down?" "I drive to your place, and then we take your car, right?"

"Yes, it's red. The whole outfit we picked is right." "Try the simple one. I can fix it if it looks weird, but it shouldn't. I trust you." "Do what makes you comfortable. I'll love it either way." "That's right. I know you really want to drive it." "Eddie, everything's gonna be fine. Don't worry."

"I know," he sighs. "I just don't wanna mess this up for you. I know you've been looking forward to it."

You giggle a bit. "As long as I get to spend time with you, Eds, tonight will be great."

"Such a charmer," he teases.

"It's my natural talent."

You set the device down, taking your spot across from Chrissy once more. She's smiling at you, albeit nervously.

"Are you sure I look okay?"

You smile, pinching her chin before reclaiming the small brush and finishing off the short, sleek wing of her eyeliner, all while holding your breath so you don't accidentally screw up. You draw a tiny heart just above the apple of her cheek.

"You are," you set the eyeliner down, "absolutely beautiful. You always are."

"Are you sure?" she says, a telling hand creeping to her belly.

You take her face in your hands, careful not to screw up her freshly done makeup. "Chrissy," you whisper, "you're perfect. Always, all the time, no matter what. I will never lie to you, and I'll never sugarcoat it. You're amazing, and I love you."

She takes a slow breath in and nods, smiling prettily. "Love you, too." You kiss her forehead.

"Now do my eyes," you smile, handing her a makeup brush. She giggles as she takes it.

And later on, as the night gets closer and the sun is beginning its descent, you and Chrissy are walking down the steps, holding each other's hands.

All the parents are gathered downstairs, smiling as your mothers cling to your fathers' sides. Your father smiles as you come down. "You both look like royalty," he declares, holding his arms open for you. Your mother moves to give you the space.

"Thank you, Daddy," you hum.

He pulls you back to see your face. "Anything for you, princess." He kisses your forehead.

Chrissy's sharing her own hug with her father. "I trust they were the dresses you wanted," he says.

She nods. "They were. Thank you, Daddy."

"Whatever you want, angel." He kisses her cheek.

Your father pats him on the back as they both wander into the kitchen, your mother follows behind them.

You try not to grimace when Laura stays back, looking her daughter up and down with a grimace of her own.

"I still think I should have loosened that dress up a little more." She moves forward, placing her hands on Chrissy's waist and trying to adjust the fabric.

Chrissy tries to smile through her discomfort. She puts a hand over her stomach and you retire your hard side-eye to come to her side. You weave your arm around her as you give her a reassuring grin.

"Well, I think you look beautiful." You nudge her chin, she smiles. "I envy you."

"I don't know," she tsks. "She's a little too big for her dress. Especially around the hips..."

You smile, turning to the side as you mumble under your breath. "Funny how you barely fit in that large sized dress."

Her brows shot up. "What was that?"

"Hm?" you ask, turning back to her. "Nothing. I was just saying you didn't need to stress."

She huffs, "You said something about a large."

Chrissy's head dips, attempting to cover a grin as you loop your arm through her elbow. "I was just...admiring your large heel."

There's silence as she stares at the both of you. Chrissy tries not to laugh at your dangerous idiocy whilst also struggling with not shrinking under her mother's terrible gaze. You have no issue in staring her right back down, your head tilting and your cordial smile held strong on your lips.

"You mean...'high' heel?" she corrects.

The tension in the air is thick. Chrissy finds it difficult to stand still as she shifts from foot to foot, staring down at the floor or the wall or her bracelet. Anything to avoid looking her mother in the eye—or you, for that matter, in fear that she would burst with laughter and build herself her own grave.

You hum and nod. "Of course. High horse—heel. My apologies."

Her hand raises to her chest, seemingly shocked by the blatant 'disrespect'. "You are being very disrespectful, young lady."

You were trying to be subtle but something about Chrissy's mother rips all the subtlety from you as you furrow your brows but continue to smile. "Oh, I wasn't aware decency was considered disrespectful."

Chrissy nudges your side gently, whispering your name in an urgent reprimanding. "What? What did I say?" you wonder.

Laura isn't having it. "Why, I should go tell your mother about your unpleasant behavior."

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. You try to look regretful, but you're sure you're missing the mark by a few hairs. "Oh, forgive me, Ms. Cunningham."

She huffs. "Missus, young lady."

"Right," you nod. "Mrs. Cunningham. I apologize." You tighten your grip on Chrissy's arm just a slight, making it harder for her to keep it together. She loves you, and she thinks you're hilarious. "It's unbecoming of a lady—such as myself—to behave in such a way."

"Yes, it is," she agrees. "One would think a girl like you would behave more appropriately."

You nod firmly. "Of course. I should respect my elders—I apologize, my superiors."

You could gag at the idea of it.

But she can't stand your "disrespect" any more as she huffs and shakes her head, making a various amount of scoffing noises as she begins walking away. "The nerve of children these days."

She leaves the both of you alone. Once you're sure she's out of earshot, Chrissy bends over laughing, covering her mouth and shaking her head to keep quiet.

"You're gonna get in trouble," she whisper-yells. Instead of shoving you away, she tightens her grip to pull you closer. Your foreheads practically touch as the two of you form a conspiring huddle.

You scoff. "I'm Daddy's angel. Doesn't matter what she tells my mom—who will tell my dad—Daddy's angel knows no wrong." It's a truth you repeat often, but it's one of those truths that have always been indisputable.

"Daddy's princess," she corrects you. "I'm the angel."

You shrug, humming. "You're technically the queen."

It's funny. You probably have a higher social standing than Chrissy does, but she was always the Queen of Hawkins while you were simply the princess—not that you minded, you would always support her.

Neither of you are quite sure why that is, but you think it may be because she became a cheerleader before you and then started dating Jason Carver. It doesn't matter. As long as you have her by your side, you would accept being the jester in this high school court of a kingdom.

Chrissy smiles, another giggle rattling her body. "So strange how you don't listen to me then."

You gasp dramatically. "I do! Otherwise I'd be out of the business, Your Highness. We both know I'm a little too dramatic to process common sense sometimes." She rolls her eyes playfully at you. "Exhibit A, Eddie."

She snorts. "Yeah, you were a little confused a couple times there.*

You gasp again, pretending to elbow her in the side. "You're mean!" She giggles again as you call out. "Daddy! Time for pictures."

"Coming, princess," he calls from the kitchen.

Chrissy whispers to you, "You're crazy."

You wink. "Crazy for you."

She rolls her eyes.

All the parents return with a camera. There are a multitude of flashes as they get every possible picture they could need—you and Chrissy, you and your parents, you and your dad, Chrissy and her parents, Chrissy and her dad, Chrissy and her mom (because her mother is insistent). More pictures will be taken when the boyfriends show up.

Jason is the first of the two to show up. As you predicted, there are more pictures. And as soon as those pictures are done, he and Chrissy leave, but not without a pink kiss to your cheek.

Then Eddie shows—without blaring his music through his speakers tonight. He isn't late, in fact he's perfectly on time.

As he walks up the steps to the house, he behaves like a gentleman the whole way. He rings the doorbell, you answer it before your father can, and you give Eddie your best smile.

He looks so handsome. He's in a black tux with a red dress shirt. His black bowtie is perfect, and you're sure it's because he didn't stop until it was. You would have thought he would keep his hair down, but he wants to impress you. His hair is shiny with product and so, so curly. He's got it pulled back in a half-up man bun.

And, of course, his rings are still in place. Shiny, freshly polished. Jesus, you loved him.

"Wow," he sighs at the sight of you. His doe eyes are wide, and his plump lips are parted. He looks starstruck.

"Do you hate it?" you worry, looking down at your dress. The theme is royalty in yours and Chrissy's honors. So, as intended, you look like a princess.

He shakes his head. "No."

You try not to mess with your hair by running your hands through it. "Is it too much?"

Eddie grabs your hand, smiling as he squeezes it gently. "You look fuckin' beautiful."

Your eyes seem to shine, and Eddie thinks you're trying to kill him. "Really?" you smile.

"You look like a princess," he promises, looking at you too closely. You're so, so pretty.

Something hits him, not literally. "Oo!" he exclaims, taking a step back. He turns on his heel with no explanation and rushes back to his van. You watch him, thinking that he's a total dork and that you wanna kiss him silly. There's something about being dressed up like this and being his not-date to prom that makes your feelings for him just that much more potent.

Usually you can get through the first five minutes without imagining your faces squished together in a too-affectionate kiss, but you can't help right now but to be riddled with the fantasy.

He comes back with something uselessly hidden behind his back. "I have this. Close your eyes."

You do as you're told because you trust him, and you would hold a ticking bomb in your palms if he asked you to. You feel him place something on your head—a tiara, you presume.

"Shit," he huffs breathlessly.

You peak your eyes open, raising your hands to feel the tiara with happy fingers. You want to burst. You're so much of a princess to him that he needed to give you a tiara. You're proper royalty now.

"Too much?" you ask.

"Never," he's quick to say. He smiles. "You're perfect."

You don't know what compelled you to say it. "Shit, you might as well kiss me now."

"Huh?" he wonders, as though he wasn't paying attention. You don't think he was.

He was. He definitely was.

"Nothing," you say anyway, covering your words with a grin as you take his hand and pull him inside. "Come on, my mom wants a picture."

He raises a brow, pointing to himself like a dummy. "With me?"

"'Course." You thread your hand through his elbow, and he gladly allows it.

"Seriously?" he asks.

"Yeah," you giggle. "We'll give some to Wayne, too. I'm sure he'd like a picture."

"Yeah," he mutters, fully agreeing but also slightly confused. You like him confused, he's sweet either way.

~

Eddie is a gentleman. As soon as you get to the party, he rushes out of the car just to open your door for you—as he always does. He takes your hand in the crook of his elbow and leads you inside. You smile the whole way, and he tells you that you're pretty when you smile. Your face hurts from smiling so much.

When you're inside, the music is already pounding in the floors and a lot of people are dancing. There are also, however, plenty of people sitting at the sidelines, watching others enjoy their time. People with no dates, people with dates ignoring them, people in friend groups. You notice Tommy H's freckled face hasn't shown up yet. A sly smirk threatens to overtake your warm smile.

You and Eddie spend the first hour dealing with everyone coming up to compliment you. You both expected this. The party's just started, you're running for queen, and...you look beautiful. Eddie does his best to swat away any of the vultures. When you spy Chrissy, you stick next to her and brave the vultures together.

Until Jason pulls her away for punch. She kisses your cheek as she goes, allowing her boyfriend to drag her away again. You don't mind, it gives you time with Eddie and his excited affection.

"Sup, Harrington," he calls when he spots Steve and—the girl you've come to know as—Robin Buckley. "I thought they didn't let old men in here."

Steve rolls his eyes as his palm smacks Eddie's. "You're older than me, Munson."

Eddie shrugs that heavy shouldered shrug and snorts. "By, like, a year."

Steve shakes his head and turns away from him, setting his eyes upon you. With a warm smile, he greets you. "You look great, Y/N."

"Like, drop dead gorgeous. You are stunning," Robin spews, taking in your outfit with plenty of appreciation for your style. A tiny squeal escapes her as she does.

"Thank you," you answer genuinely. You've grown to really like Robin in a short span of time. She's so sweet and geeky, and you love getting to hang out with her and Chrissy on the days where you've kicked the boys out. "You look beautiful, Bobby."

She seems to blush, looking down at her dress and nodding. It's probably too dressy for her, but your compliment makes her feel better. "Yeah, thanks."

She nudges Steve in the side hard enough for him to bring a hand to it and mutter a weak, "Ow."

"Steve wishes he had a date. He couldn't score one," she teases.

The three of you laugh as he rolls his eyes at the abuse. He'd hoped you would at least be nice to him, but it seems you've followed in Eddie's cruel footsteps. "Har, har. Laugh it up."

Robin takes his arm then, her giggles melting into her words as she smiles wide. "Anyway, we should go check out the punch. I heard someone spiked it and now we've got booze!"

Robin starts walking away with Steve, but when he pauses, she doesn't stop to wait for him. Steve sidles up to Eddie, leaning down to whisper in his ear and keep away from your prying ones. "It's now or never, dude. Don't keep making us listen to your gross pining."

Eddie grumbles, masking his anxiety with annoyance as he rolls his eyes. "I don't pine."

Steve scoffs. "Yeah, right."

Eddie pushes him away, to which Steve raises his hands in mock defense as he goes to catch up with Robin. He waves at you on his way. As if on cue, the music changes to something slow and steady, something romantic, and Eddie thinks the world is mocking him. When Eddie turns back to you, you're smiling at a couple who'd come up to say hi. He waits patiently for them to leave before he holds his kind of shaky hand out to you.

"D'you wanna dance?" he asks after clearing his throat a couple times.

You smile that drop-dead smile at him and he finds it a little harder to breathe. You slip your hand into his palm, and he hopes his isn't sweaty. "Yeah," you mumble fondly, standing close as you let him guide you to a spot within the dancing couples. Your heart beats so fast, drowning on his nervous fondness.

He holds you with timid hands, one in your hand and one on your side. You're just familiar enough that his touch does not feel as awkward as you feel. You try not to melt against him, to lay your head upon his chest and close your eyes, to let him sway you with the gentleness he feels swelling in his chest and tingling in his fingers.

He stares at your face, and it feels natural for him to do so. Your hand on his shoulder slides further to wrap around the back of his neck. He smiles at the soft glow in your eyes, the little sparkle of life that erupts every time you look at him.

"You're really pretty," he whispers as his eyes look over all the glorious features of your face: your soft lips, your kind eyes, your plush cheeks, your adorable nose, your fluttering lashes he wants to feel lay little butterfly kisses on his face.

You look down from his eyes momentarily, hoping the warmth in your cheeks and the shortness of your breath isn't too evident. "This dress was really expensive, so I'm glad you think so–"

He doesn't mean to cut you off, but he does. "I'm not talking about the dress." He can't help it when his hand strays from your hand to hold the side of your face, his thumb brushing the gentlest touch against the apple of your cheek. "You're pretty without the dress."

You stare at him with the biggest, shiniest eyes. He loves when you look at him like this.

Then he realizes maybe he weirded you out.

"N-Not, like, naked! I just meant, y'know, even without the fancy dress, just in regular clothes, too. You're just..." he clears his throat pathetically, "you're really pretty."

You tip your head back to laugh sweetly, the one with the squeaks—the one he really likes because of its sincerity. His hand wraps farther around your waist. You respond—seemingly unconsciously—by setting your other arm on his shoulder. He secures both hands at your waist.

"I know what you meant, Eddie," you giggle, giving him one last squeak just to please him—though he knows you didn't do it on purpose.

He nods, letting his own giddy laugh escape him. "Cool."

A chuckle, one of the ones that goes through your nose as you stifle a grin. You move slowly, like you're trying not to startle an animal, as you set your head on his chest. You step just a slight closer, and he graciously lets his hands wrap tighter around you. His head rests against the top of your heart.

It's close and warm and it makes you both smile. He smells nice, familiar, like the cologne you bought him, deodorant, and cigarettes. Under the music and the sound of his clothes brushing your ear, you can hear the faintest beat of his heart. It's quick, heavy. You can feel it against your cheek if you really focus.

You chuckle so lightly. "Eddie, calm down. Your heart is, like, super fast."

He clears his throat, speaking through his fond haze. "My bad."

He's so nervous. Steve's words play over and over again in his mind. "It's now or never, it's now or never, it's now or never, it's now–" and he is so afraid to pick now that all he does is sway and breathe the scent of your soft perfume, and under that, your—supposedly—scentless lotion.

He's so afraid that he's missed his chance. He knows you love him, but he's stuck on the possibility that you don't love him like you did. Maybe now, after having waited so long, you love him like a best friend, you love him like a brother. Maybe now that he's finally fallen for you, you don't have the capacity to stay low with him.

He's so afraid.

You both sway to the music, moving so slowly. There's a pause, it feels like. You feel like something is supposed to be said or done but...no one is doing it. The music changes again, but neither of you have stopped your slow dance. You rue the moment you have to tear away from him.

But there was a pause.

"Do you want to stop?" you ask gently, hoping against hope that he says no.

And he answers your prayer better than you could have asked for. It's a quick, "absolutely not," that leaves no time for any conceived hesitation.

You're so relieved. "Okay..."

His response is just as immediate. "I like you."

You look up at him, smiling gently. The sight of him warms your heart, all the softness in his big features, all the gleaming in his dark eyes. "I like you, too."

"No, like..." he sighs, struggling to say what he wants to say as his hands find firmer purchase at your waist out of nerves. "I really like you."

You're confused as to how to respond. Smiling strangely and furrowing a brow, you chuckle, "Thank you?"

Not quite. "I mean–"

"Eddie," you pause, donning a playful voice. "You're being weird again."

He wants to laugh but his ears are burning. "What I mean to say is..." now or never, "I fuckin' love you."

Your heart leaps to your throat, and you almost choke on it. It's beating so fast, you feel it in every pulse in your body. "Like..." you think quickly, though your thoughts are jumbled. "Like a friend? Like Steve and Robin."

"Not at all."

You shake your head, thinking his not platonic love for you is too good to be true. "I'm confused."

He's already said it, there's no use in being shy. He chuckles, and then takes a deep breath, and then blows it out. You stare up at him, eyes gleaming and lips parted so delicately. He wants to kiss you.

"I'm..." Breathe. "I'm in love with you, Princess." And then your heart stops. You're surprised you haven't fallen in the middle of the dance floor. He holds you up with all the fondness in his heart. "I was trying not to fall for you, I wasn't going to–" he says it with the same resolve as picking up candy at the gas station, like loving you is such an easy thing to do, "–but then we started hanging out, and you ended up being really, really cool. Then, I sort of just..." He sighs, trying to find the words. "I started really liking you. Then I picked you up for that concert, and you were so gorgeous—you always are. And I picked you up tonight and saw you in this...fuckin' awesome dress, and I couldn't breathe because you're just... You're so beautiful, and–"

You shut him up with a kiss. You sit here and listen to his compliments forever, but you couldn't wait any longer to feel his lips on yours. You've wanted this for so long, craved this kind of intimacy with him since you first saw him and thought he was super weird. And he was, you were right. You often are.

His lips are soft and warm, and you love the feeling of kissing him. It sways in your chest and warms the pit of your stomach, and it tingles in your fingers and ears and you just...lean into it like it's such a natural thing. Your hand wraps around the back of his head, tangling in his hair to pull him closer. His hands tighten around your waist and pull you flush against him. Happy hands hold the other, an innocent desperation to be near.

Fuck, you love him and his stupid anxiety. You love him in all his strangeness, his eccentricities, his eager hands and giddy eyes. Kissing him is one of the best decisions you've made, and it's one you hope you can continue to make forever and ever and ever.

When your lips pull apart and you're breathing each other's air, you keep your eyes closed as your lashes flutter. "I love you, too," you whisper, pulling him even closer. Your affection for him had only grown over the last few months, from a swelling warmth to a bursting excitement that grows still with every Eddie-ism.

"Sorry it took so long," he replies, your lips brushing with his words as his hand raises to brush your cheek.

You shrug lazily. "I'm glad it happened at all," you're still so close. You forget the music is still playing, you forget people are dancing to something fast and loud, you forget people are probably staring and talking and laughing and dancing and carrying on while you and Eddie are stuck in your own world, confessing and kissing and loving.

You chuckle, resting your head on his chest for a moment before lifting up again. "Chrissy'll be ecstatic."

He laughs, his hand splayed along your lower back as he rubs the spot affectionately. "Yeah, well... They certainly are."

You look over to where he motions with his head, giggling when you see Steve and Robin beaming and throwing thumbs up at the two of you, as though they were being subtle in their celebration. If you look over just a bit, you can see Chrissy smiling like it was her being kissed and loved on so sweetly. She pulls Jason with her as she joins the other two in your success—which is, in turn, their success.

You snort. "You have weird friends."

"Correction: we have weird friends."

What's mine is yours, what's yours is mine. You're okay with that.

You get giddy all over again looking at his face. "I'm so fuckin' happy right now." You lift up on your toes and kiss him again, drinking in his loving affection. When you pull away, you smile wide.

"Do you wanna go to the movies with me?" he asks, bringing an eager hand up to cup your chin.

You smile, containing your laugh. "You won't stand me up?"

He laughs, a big one that rumbles in his entire body and spreads to your own. "No, I won't stand you up," he says. "I'll open your door like a gentleman, I'll buy your snacks, I'll drive you back home and give you a goodnight kiss."

Your voice is soft, though the music shouldn't permit it to be. "Can we go back to your place?"

"Mine?" he wonders. Yours is probably better, he thinks.

"Yours is better." It's like you've read his mind, and you need to prove him wrong with his own phrasing.

He shrugs, "It's small."

You respond with your own shrug, holding him a little longer. Your thumb rubs against the back of his neck. "It feels like a home."

He hums. "Not very gentlemanly, taking you back to my place."

You snort. "Not like my parents'll notice." The way you say it makes his heart hurt. They wouldn't realize I was gone. "Your house is lived in," you say with a new gentleness. "I want to be with you." And then you get shy, shrugging one shoulder and slanting your chin down to meet it. "And maybe I just want to make out with my boyfriend."

Eddie blushes all over at the word, like he's a school boy flirting with his playground crush. "Right?" you ask quickly. "I can call you that?"

"Please do."

You purse your lips and giggle at his eagerness. You can't help it, you kiss him again. You love the way he kisses, full of smiles and warmth and a hint of desperation.

You pull back, your hand on his chest. "Does this mean you'll let me buy you gifts again?"

He rolls his eyes and laughs lightly, shaking his head before conceding with a grin. "Within reason." He couldn't say no to you, especially not now.

Your hands sit fondly at either side of his face. Your thumbs brush his skin. "I can deal with that."

And this time, he kisses you.

Stranger Things taglist: @activebliss @queermaxwooo @life-on-needs @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen @emmalee-01 @sw34ter-w34ther @gublur @allofmaris @redwineandnicotine @the-cryptid @katsukis1wife @chaoticcancer @papichulo120627 @emistrash @jjmaybankswifes-blog @thegr8estpuff @lover-of-books-and-tea @xxhanililoxx Eddie the Banished taglist: @eddiiiieeee @hb8301 @lovemegood @munsaniac @digital-charlie @eiriancrow @littleblondesoprano @alexxavicry @samz31 @sparkletash @fandomgirl17 @marjoriea13 @akiratoro420 @mewchiili @mischieftom

[anim-ttrpgs]

Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy Itchio Beta Update January 30th 2025

You can now get a much more polished version of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy on itch.io! Payment is optional, but greatly appreciated!

I’m proud of this update despite it not really being quite as extensive as I would’ve liked it to be considering the three months in between the last big public update and now, but as if my some act of God, nearly every single member of our team had some kind of personal life issue (moving, illness, etc.) across all of November and December, which really slowed down our progress on Eureka. We were back full steam ahead in January, and that allowed us to at least push one really big improvement through in time for this update: The mystery-writing guide.

It was important to me to release a big public update this month because January 2025 is when we stated on the Kickstarter that Eureka would be releasing. Well, underestimation and unexpected complications have meant that the game isn’t finished yet as of January 2025, but this big update that you can download and play is us making up for that at least partially, it shows our fans that even though we haven’t met our deadline, we haven’t been slacking off, and we do have a lot to show for it.

In addition to new art, new traits, and rules clarifications, the Eureka rulebook now sports an in-depth mystery writing guide. This comes just in time for those of you participating in our mystery module game jam. (Sign-ups are open now, submissions are open from March to April of 2025.)

In addition to a rulebook update, we have released two previously patron-exclusive Eureka mystery modules, “The Eye of Neptune” and “FORIVA: The Angel Game.” You can find them at this link here. Payment is optional but highly appreciated!

Patreon updates will continue monthly as we work steadily on the project.

Oh and one more thing before we get to the full changelog. As many of you know, we run a “TTRPG Book Club” where the club votes on games to play and then splits off into groups to play them (it’s very schedule-flexible), and discusses them as we go. Well, at the time of writing this, Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy is currently in the lead, which means we are very likely to be playing that next. Join the book club during the sign-up period in the next couple of weeks if you want to play Eureka and discuss it with the developers!

Here’s the full changelog!

Copy-editing Progress: Thoroughly copy-edited up to p. 302. Half-ass copy-edited up to p. 322.

We also released Eureka adventure modules “The Eye of Neptune” and “FORIVA: The Angel Game” into free beta on itch.io. Scroll up to find the link and a game jam!

WHOLE BOOK

CHAPTER 1 

Better clarified Unconsciousness. 

Better clarified the penalty negation of Grievous Wounds, gave guidelines for what aid may negate what Grievous Wounds, and made it so that these aids can stack to a penalty negation of up to 4.

Edited and simplified the travel time math when using Ticks.

Worsened penalty for using Medicine on oneself from -1 to -2.

Added some quick fix patches to the Assistance Roll section to make it more clear when Assistance Rolls should and should not be allowed. May end up completely rewriting some parts of this section in the near future to make it so that the divide is less based on Investigative vs Non-Investigative, but instead provide clearer stipulations. One potential issue is we really have to be careful not to write the rules so that every character assisting with every Investigative Roll is the optimal strategy, because that would make the game less fun. 

CHAPTER 2

New Traits: The Truth Comes Out, Poser

Buffed Believer Trait

Nerfed I’m Okay, You’re Okay Trait

Un-Nerfed I’m Okay, You’re Okay Trait

Made vampires and characters with the Arithmomaniac Trait immune to the “Click” Woo Roll effect

Added Crutches to Item List

More art has been added

Buffed Elementary! Trait

Buffed The Ascot Trait 

Buffed The Other Trait 

Buffed Poser Trait

Added Nobody’s Fool Trait 

Added That’s No Way to Feel Trait

Made some clarifications on Tiers of Fear

Made it so there is a flat PM penalty for investigators that are living out of their vehicles. 

Added RVs/campers/trailers to Homes

Lowered the PM of vans and SUVs

Moved Police from Optional to Mandatory on Tiers of Fear

CHAPTER 3

Added a Compromise Armor attack that is also a Movement and can only be done starting from a Grab

More art has been added

CHAPTER 7

Added “How to Write a Mystery” section, a big step-by-step guide on how to write your very own Eureka mystery module. 

Added “Starting an Adventure with Disaster” section

Added more guidelines for Eureka’s tone, setting, and lore.

CHAPTER 8 

Made it so fairies have to make a reflexes roll to be able to spirit away people with extremely brief contact. 

Better clarified some other things about Spiriting Away and “voluntary” skin-to-skin contact.

Added that a Potion of Healing can also cure non-chronic disease. 

Added that more potions than just the curse potions can be made curative by adding an extra Table 3 ingredient, and that curative potions can be bought with WP just like other potions. 

Clarified that gorgons can’t eat rocks.

Clarified that advanced curses can override each other.

Changed Monsters Eating Monsters section to Monsters vs Monsters and made it a more generalized section about all kinds of edge cases that might come up when monsters interact with each other. The section is kind of disorganized right now but will be cleaned up in copy-editing. 

Clarified that all wolfmen have a human form as one of their three forms.

Redid the hunting tables and added the tables for the Bar/Nightclub, Gay Bar/Nightclub, and Gaming/Hobby Store. They are not fully complete but they are at least functional at this time. 

Vampires now have a chance to start partially phasing through objects when they are at 0 Composure.

Changed the standard Stealth bonus vampires have at max Composure from +3 to +2.

Adjusted the mechanics for how to permanently “kill” a vampire. 

More art has been added

Buffed Learning by Example TFB Ability 

Clarified fairies taking voices 

Clarified the animal options for the Curse of Transformation

[anonymousdisco]

How’d I get Isikiad into Yandere Obey Me Chapter Eleven Part One-Tears, fears, and not so secret discussions

Three important things real quick to make things a bit more clear before we head to the story:

1-) November and December suck up any free time I have. This is due to things I have to do in my personal life that include family, my education, and my work. Because of this updates will be sporadic until mid December with the exception of Christmas. Which is slightly unfortunate because I love writing given it’s my passion.

2-) I’ve avoided using curse words in my writing till now, but I will be holding a poll soon to see if the majority of y’all don’t mind cause I don’t care either way.

3-) Just to let y’all know Reader Cannon Age in the story is going to be 17,998. This is because I headcannon that every thousand years is like one year to immortals, and I want the reader in the story to be just almost an adult which would be at eighteen thousand. But before entering the story the Reader was already an adult for a while so their treatment of her is going to cause her discomfort as someone who is mentally no longer a young almost adult.

The characters ages are as follows:

Barbatos: time itself tbh

Lucifer: 24,331

Diavolo: 24,451 (I feel like he and Lucifer are really close in age given their dynamic with each other, but Diavolo is just slightly older.)

Mammon: 23,302

Leviathan: 22,856

Satan: 22,560

Asmodeus: 21,985

Beelzebub: 21,005

Belphegore: 21,005

Simeon: 24,556

Luke: 10,115

Solomon: He lost track and doesn’t even bother with his age beyond 6000, but he’s considered an adult instead of a 6 year old equivalent given that he’s human and their lifespans aren’t supposed to be that long. He’ll always say he’s 6,000 and holding 😂.

Mephistopheles: 23,334 (he’s around 1,000 years younger than Diavolo because I’m sticking to the canon of him being born to be Diavolo’s friend/playmate for his parents status.)

Thirteen: a lady never tells her age but before she was a grim reaper I headcanon that she died at 25 as a human so still an adult.

Yuki: 16 nearing 17 (Yuki’s appearance btw will be based off of my MC as will her background story which will be revealed later on. I can’t wait to put her in the story cause I thrive on foreshadowing.

It’s also part of my headcanon for immortals like demons and angels to not really care about their age past the thousands part. So if someone asks their age they’ll say 23 instead of 23,560 because to them it makes more sense. Most don’t even celebrate their birthdays every year and only celebrate them when it seems to matter like every thousand years. The only exception to this is when their a figure of importance or of great respect. Then they celebrate every single year. This will be important later on so when introductions are eventually made soon, I hope this clears up any misunderstandings. Have a lovely day and enjoy the story!

(Y/N) POV:

I blinked slowly and struggled to sit up. Barbatos quickly assisted me carefully while chiding me. “Your still a bit weak, My Lady. Be careful.”

“Y-yes, Barbatos.” I stuttered out confused. His behavior was vastly more familiar than before. Just how well did this cliche work?! I told Glitch mentally to prepare a status update for me.

“Where are my Brothers?” I hesitated for a moment acting a bit shy. “Are they… here?” I let my shoulder droop a bit in an act of disappointment not seeing them near.

“Your brothers are nearby. They have taken a moment to rest while waiting for you to wake up. It’s quite late at night.” He gathered a blanket from a linen closet and wrapped it around my shoulders. “Here bundle up, My Lady.” He then walked over to the fireplace checking over the fire.

I sat there staring, just feeling genuinely confused. Those sedatives really did a number on me I suppose since my cognitive ability is still waking up. I could tell I felt stronger though. Where before I felt like glass I now felt more sturdy.

“I will inform the others of your change in condition.” Barbatos bowed before leaving.

“A competent butler is truly something else…” I mumbled. “He knows exactly what to do so fast.” 

“Status update prepared.” Glitch announced popping into existence in front of me.

I read the screen carefully as discreetly as I could. It seems like this worked better than I bargained for. I never realized they had a savior complex. But then again they always seemed to call the player in the game human as if they’re weak no matter how strong they showed they are so I suppose it makes sense. They must need to perceive someone they care about as weaker than them, and it appears I have officially stolen that spot. What will happen to the game timeline now? Did I girl boss my way too close to the sun…?

The uncertainty made me tremble. Till now things have been completely under my control. I knew this was necessary for me to do as a step towards my end goal but still… I felt panic grip my heart. Panic attacks were no stranger to me. Before I died I used to have them all the time. But it felt like ages ago compared to all I had achieved till now.

(Panic attack described below based off of ones I’m used to. Everyone reacts differently to different levels of panic attacks. I’m just going to describe how I’m familiar with one. I want to add a warning in case anyone finds this triggering to not read till my next note.)

I felt like there was cement gripping my heart in my chest shrinking it smaller. My vision felt glassy and my cheeks felt wet. Was I crying? I don’t understand. I feel like I can’t move but I’m clearly shaking. I saw drops of water hitting the blanket I was gripping in a death grip. Ah, so I am crying. Why won’t it stop, why won’t the shaking stop? I want to be small, I feel too big… How’s my mind so calm when I’m freaking out so much?! Why won’t my body listen to me?! I’m still in control so just listen!

I felt someone grip me in a vice grip. Something dark covered my vision. It felt soft and warm. I’m so cold, why am I so cold? I slowly realized I heard sobbing. It sounded like someone was grasping for breath. Was that… me? Why won’t my lungs take in oxygen? I’m telling them to. I clutched whoever was holding me. It felt nice now that I got over the initial shock and fear of being suddenly held. After a while the shaking subsided and I was only hiccuping a bit from all the crying.

(The description is over so it’s safe to read from here if panic attacks being described triggers you. I hope this helped you avoid it if you wanted to.)

Hands stroked my head still slowly as a quite comforting chirp of sorts sounded from whoever it was. I looked up slightly with puffy eyes. “B-big b-brother…?” I gripped him tighter. “Y-your here?” I felt shocked. I hadn’t expected anyone to show up after being updated.

“Yes, I’m here. We all are.” Lucifer lifted his wings from around me as he chirped comfortingly. Cooing to me in reassurement as he held me tighter. “What’s wrong little one? Who scared you?”

“N-no one, Lucifer.” They all gave me doubting looks and I shrunk down a bit.

“It’s okay, you're not in trouble. Just tell us who caused you to have a panic attack. We just want to talk to them.” Satan's smile as he reassured me was scary. It didn’t seem like it’d be a simple talk at all.

I looked down in embarrassment. “No one caused it. I w-was just alone, a-and got scared.” Tears pricked my eyes. Of course I couldn’t tell them the truth. At least Glitch protected me from Diavolo’s gift to see lies. And I wasn’t even really lying, just not telling the whole truth.

“Oh, Darling, don’t worry we’re all here now.” Asmodeus said as he held one of my hands soothingly. “It’s late. Why don’t you cozy up and get comfy. You have a big, big day tomorrow.” His tone was almost patronizing the way he talked as if I was a little kid when I clearly was not. I was too tired after my panic attack to protest though as they all tucked me in.

“I’m sorry, My Lady. I should’ve realized you would be scared to be left alone. I have no words to describe my regret now.” Barbatos apologized, bowing in regret. “My incompetence is unforgivable.”

“It’s alright.” I mumble half asleep. “You didn’t do it on purpose.” I yawned as all my brothers kissed my forehead one by one saying goodnight.

Lucifer POV:

I held (Y/N) in my arms carefully while she slept. A brief argument had broken out in the hall over who would be the one to do so, but I put an end to it immediately. Tomorrow it will be Mammons turn, and it will eventually start over after Belphie’s.

I stroked her hair lightly, still cooing a bit to her in comfort. I can’t believe out of all the things I didn’t notice, I never noticed she suffered from panic attacks. I still remember all the nights I spent helping my brother with their ptsd from the celestial war. Those seven thousand years we spent fighting our own kind only to fail, and end up what we were taught to hate and despise… It messed us up, and we were all adults. What must it have done to a small child?

The pain of the fall, the feeling of being ripped apart and unmade, and the horror of being in what we thought would be a land full of beings who would kill us on sight… Even just the smell of the blood we were drenched in from after the fall. She was three thousand at the time. Did she even know what it all meant?

My grip tightened causing her to shift in her sleep. I shushed her gently back to settling. She must be exhausted from the sedative still.

(Honestly this is the most I can post right now. I really wish I could post more, but my life involves more than writing unfortunately. 😭 Even though it’s Sunday I still have so much left to do today lol.)

Next Chapter:

https://www.tumblr.com/anonymousdisco/768592135177027584/howd-i-get-isikiad-into-yandere-obey-me-chapter?source=share

[loganswdc]

so williams has replaced logan . james made the move , and replaced logan as has been rumoured this whole year .

here are my thoughts .

firstly , i'd like to say that logan never had the opportunity to show his talents . i feel like the first time we truly saw what logan could do was in las vegas last year , when he qualified p7 . that felt like logan , like his true capabilities . since then he hasn't been given the tools necessary to improve or to do well in f1 . in some way , good that they dropped him , because they only kept pushing his head further under the water as the season went on . he's been treated awfully this entire season and i think everyone can see that ,, especially after australia .

secondly , congratulations to franco , though i don't know how good of an idea it was to sign a driver in his rookie year of f2 . i don't know much about fraco , but i do hope this won't be another logan situation .

on that note , i think this was probably the most idiotic move that james could have ever made . replacing logan , who was shoved into f1 way too early , with a driver just halfway through his rookie season in formula 2 isn't going to go well , in my opinion . they're looking for an ollie bearman situation , but the problem is that ollie was driving a ferrari whereas franco will be driving a williams . and williams has such a bad car that it's quite honestly offensive to cars everywhere to call that thing a car .

i was also told by my mom who saw an article about the news that they replaced logan because of the damage costs from crashes , and that updates were constantly behind because of "all the damage logan caused throughout the year" which is funny considering that the majority of damage this year was due to alex's crash in australia and then the crash alex had following that in suzuka with daniel . i love alex so much and i will always root for him but the damages from those two crashes were major . hence , them being behind on the budget because of those two crashes . that's not to say logan didn't crash and add to that , but the majority of the budget problems did come from the crashes in australia and suzuka when you think about it . so to say that they dropped logan because of the crash in the netherlands feels so utterly idiotic to me .

i genuinely feel like this wasn't very well thought out and that , in some way , because mercedes and redbull were so quick to tell james oh yeah we'll give you our reserve drivers then james was under the impression that he should / it's okay for him to replace logan all of the sudden . but the truth is that it isn't okay and the way he's treated logan since the end of last year to now is awful . it's like he only viewed logan as a seat-warmer for the love of his life carlos sainz .

to which i say that i have a lot of thoughts on how james talks about carlos and how weird and absolutely unprofessional it is . like it's genuinely getting so weird how he talks about carlos and the fact james' wife was concerned.... but that's for another post !!

all in all i am absolutely devastated for logan . when i found out i was walking to my next class and started hyperventilating so hard i nearly passed out in the middle of the courtyard 😭 i've been on and off crying literally all day and this news was the worst . and it's literally my birthday tomorrow which made it so much worse . i think that in the end we have to wait and see and perhaps we'll find that this was a good thing for logan , that he'll be able to go somewhere where he is truly appreciated and can show how talented he is .

i don't think logan would see my silly rants on here but if he does for whatever reason then i hope he knows that he's loved and appreciated . that we'll always support him and stand by him . he will forever and always be my favorite driver , no matter where he goes .

i'll still be posting about logan on here , perhaps just news that i find in the coming weeks or when we find out where logan is going then i'll post about that . or i'll just be posting cutie patootie photos of logan i find on pinterest :)

sending love to all my fellow logan fans and my dms are always open to anyone who wants to talk / rant about this <3

hate will not be tolerated in the replies and i will be removing / blocking anyone who sends hateful messages . this is not a time to be a dick , it's a time to show support for a driver who did everything he could with that car .

[stu-dyingstudent]

Sakura fic recs: civilian discrimination/clan politics

Another personal favorite type of read when it comes to Sakura Haruno fanfiction! I think it's reasonable to assume considering the treatment of the branch families in the Hyuga clan that if the series was a little darker/serious, then Sakura, TenTen, and Lee would have definitely been looked down upon for not being from a clan. They don't have the same connections and support that the clan kids do and so I love when fics bring this up and take it further.

Ok, so I've kinda decided to just make this a list for fics with some political focus to them...

Also, check out my list on third war continued/Sakura sent to war prematurely as all of those fics bring up this hierarchy.

Started: 2024.07.23

Last Updated: 2024.12.28

note: feel free to check out my master list which has a bunch of Sakura Haruno fic recs (all organized)!

edit: I am currently reevaluating this list as I feel I can do better!

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A Drop of Poison by Androgyninja || ao3 || gen || M || canon divergent || complete

After being humiliated during a sparring match, Sakura realizes that she no longer wants to base her future on a boy who doesn't even like her. With a newfound sense of determination, she sets off to become a truly terrifying kunoichi, making her fair share of friends and enemies along the way.In other words, Sakura discovers who she really wants to be and fucks shit up along the way. And if she poisons a few important people? Well, that's just collateral damage.Begins during Sakura's final year at the academy and ends right before the canon time skip.

Where the hierarchy of the clans and clanless is more prominent than ever, Sakura comes to the stark realization of her true purpose on team 7. A Drop of Poison is probably the first fic that comes to mind when I think of discrimination and clan politics in Konoha and it's for a good reason. Constant hurdles are thrown Sakura's way because of her lineage and the actions she chooses to take bring ramifications which she'll have to face head first. Also, poison-user! Sakura is such a great idea (I wish this was canon)!

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bite me and see, said the fly to the spider - MirrorImage003 || ao3 || itasaku || T || canon AU || ongoing

In which Sakura is not initially a part of Team 7. In which she wears her failures like armor and brandishes her fears like her most trusted weapons. In which I do what hundreds of other authors have done before me, and rewrite Sakura's story. Non-massacre AU. Canon Divergent. Slow-burn.

Sakura's first team is made up of the "expendables." Placed with a fresh and inexperienced jonin as their sensei, it results in the quick demise of the team. Now slotted into team 7, Sakura has to face the harsh remarks regarding her first major failure as a shinobi and persevere to prove her worth to the village.

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Expedient - SwiftKick || ffn || T || canon AU || complete

Konoha and Iwa sign a truce and agree to an Exchange Program between recently promoted genin to "bolster village relations." Fortunately, if anything were to go wrong, Haruno Sakura was just average enough to risk losing.

From what I remember, Expedient is not very heavy on this dynamic, however, it is a major contributor as to why Sakura was the one sent on the exchange. She was deemed as so average, so unremarkable, that the village could risk her. Even so, Sakura does face a lot of criticism from Iwa shinobi and civilians, marking her as an outsider. I don't really want to spoil anything, but just know that the sensitivity of her position makes it difficult for her both in Konoha and Iwa. This one is an all time favorite of mine and I didn't have high expectations going into it, but this fic is truly great. Deidara is such a fun character and I really enjoyed Sakura's growth.

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The Small Postures - Celenier || ao3 || T || kakasaku || canon divergence || incomplete

Sakura acts as a spy for Tsunade when Danzo takes an interest in her. While earning her place in ANBU Root, she discovers her own path to greatness. She learns grim secrets about how her village operates, makes terrible enemies, and begins to appreciate the extent of her fractured personality.

It's Sakura's more expendable status that results in her being used to infiltrate ROOT. I found this fic kinda a hard read since it's such an ominous story. Anyway, Kakashi, her former sensei, in now her contact and only confident on the matter, but how does this change their relationship? I haven't read far enough for there to be any romance, so no comment, but I imagine it's built off of Sakura's isolation. Great story though.

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Daughter of Fire - justjstuff || ao3 || kakasaku || E || canon divergence || incomplete (maybe ongoing)

Sakura got up and didn’t bother brushing the dirt from her dress. She had a feeling she was about to get even dirtier. She looked at the memorial stone one last time, memorizing the characters without even realizing she was doing it. It would serve from that moment on as a reminder of her determination. She wouldn’t let Naruto and Sasuke join the names carved on that stone. That was her nindo.

Sakura faces discrimination from the council as they are not pleased that she, a civilian born, is to be the one to carry on Tsunade's legacy. I also really appreciate how Sakura's parents were handled in Daughter of Fire as it felt very logical rather than some of the other fics I have read. Her growth throughout this story is great and realistic all while pointing out aspects from the original series which were flawed and dare I say misogynistic.

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Terror feeds the Soul - Pleasedial123 || ao3 || gen || not rated || canon AU || one-shot complete

Sakura is not an idiot. She was praised for her intelligence, reached Top Kunoichi at the Academy for her brains. So it doesn't take her long after being placed on the powder keg that is Team Seven to realize she is going to die. Kakashi, career shinobi since age-six, has no idea what the hell is going on with his little pink-haired student or why there is such fear in her eyes. So he gives her head-pats. That's what you do for scared puppies isn't it?

My poor girl Sakura was STRESSING in Terror Feeds the Soul, but it's for good reason. She has made the stark realization that with no clan ties and no apparent importance to the village, she would be that last on team 7 to be saved. Anyway, there is some pretty cute Kakashi and Sakura bonding here (platonic) that I love.

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The Sixth Shadow - thinknicht || ao3 || kakasaku || M || canon AU - eventual time travel AU || ongoing

No one seemed to find it odd when little Haruno Sakura threw herself smack dab in front of a Chidori and Rasengan. Not even Kakashi stopped to wonder.(He really should have.)

The story of how Sakura came to be the sixth hokage despite all of the challenges thrown her way. Many of the characters are super OOC, but in The Sixth Shadow she faces the ultimate discrimination based off her being civilian born. Through trials of attempted sabotage, classism, and other conflicts Sakura's drive is unwavering. Such an interesting take on how the events of the series could have unfolded and the political aspects are super interesting. However, be warned that Kakashi is an absolute HATER (in the beginning), but he gets better! Also, the fic is super long....

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Got Nothing to Prove (but I'ma show you how I do) - GuardianMars || ao3 || gen || T || mission gone wrong || incomplete

Civilians and orphans are always used as cannon fodder. Sakura’s not sure where she first came by this phrase. Whether she heard it or read it, she can’t quite remember, but it stuck in her head and it stays in the back of her mind whenever Team 7 takes a mission. When Sakura and Tenten get placed on a temporary team looking into a series of kidnappings of local village girls, Sakura is naturally worried. She doesn't want to be cannon fodder. When the mission goes to pot, Sakura and Tenten find themselves far away from home and with only each other to rely on. As it turns out being cannon fodder is the least of their worries.

Sakura and TenTen are chosen specifically for a mission due to their lack of clan affiliation. Things end up taking longer than anticipated and Kakashi and Gai, being the only voices for the girls, decide that it's time to step in. This fic is super interesting because it's actually kind of a mystery. One where we don't truly know what happened on the mission but through multiple different perspectives we slowly find out. Unfortunately, this is incomplete though.

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Loyalty - TrueRadicalDreamer || ffn/ao3 || M || AU || complete

A ten-year-old Haruno Sakura is put in the worst situation of her young life - being forced into working as a spy for an enemy village. As she navigates the mores of her new world, Sakura begins to realize that she is changing as a person and that she may not recognize who it is she is becoming.A story about personal responsibility, about the duties of a ninja to their village, and about the true meaning of loyalty.(Pre-Skip, Unapologetically Sakura-centric, 13 years in the writing)

Ok, a little note here is that this fic is actually being rewritten. I read the old version and loved it (the one I linked), but there is a new one coming out on ao3 although I think it might incomplete. Nonetheless, I HIGHLY recommend this one as I think it's great and pleasantly dark!

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Obito-Sensei - Ser Serendipity || ffn || gen || M || Obito lives AU || ongoing

During the fateful mission to the Kannabi Bridge, Obito is too slow, and Kakashi ends up paying the price with his life. Years later, Elite Jonin Mangekyou no Obito is placed in charge of a very familiar genin team, determined to keep them safe in a world at peace. Or: Obito surviving wrecks everything, in twenty steps or less.

I don't want to say too much to avoid spoiling anything, but there is definitely a gap between Sakura and her other teammates at the beginning. I really love the worldbuilding and Obito is honestly such a good sensei (even though I had to warm up to the idea). Some interesting politics as well!

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Satori (Between the Lines) - Jaylene || ffn || gen || T || academy AU || complete

While attending the Academy, Sakura's field experience assignment with the Konohagakure Intelligence Division ends up being more valuable than she'd ever guess.

Sakura lands herself working in Torture & Intelligence??? From the very beginning Sakura has been pegged as a "paper ninja" where she is constantly praised for her intelligence, so Satori (Between the Lines) is academy Sakura putting these skills to use. Super good read and includes characters we don't normally get to see in fics!

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Hoshigaki - writer168 || ao3 || M || gen || sakura is kisame's daughter AU || complete

When Sakura was three, her father told her he was a criminal. When she was seven, the last thing she saw of him was the sword on his back. When she was eight, she had a friend named Kiba. When they were twelve, they met Shino.And when they were genin, they began to fight for the truth because they could no longer fight for the sake of Konoha.

Perhaps one of the more interesting AUs out there as Sakura is actually the daughter of Kisame! Definitely shines a different light on the village and is such a great story (even has a sequel).

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Snakes are Venomous, Flowers are Poisonous - Omnivorous_Reader || ao3 || M || gen || Orochimaru is good AU || incomplete

It has been years since Orochimaru has taken on a proper apprentice, but when the Fourth Hokage asks him to chose one from the Rookie 12, it’s not surprising he’s the one to find the diamond in the rough

Pretty odd AU, but I guess this is kinda just Orochimaru in Boruto. Anyway, essentially, he's a good guy and loyal to village and Sasuke's a complete dick. He decides to take in another apprentice, which ends up being Sakura. A lot of discrimination towards Sakura in here due to her background and some village politics.

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Rise - wenwen || ao3 || T || gen || missing-nin AU || complete

Seven years after the Kyuubi attack, the Sandaime Hokage’s sudden assassination threw Konoha into chaos, and at the end of the night, two factions arose in its shinobi forces: those who stayed and those who ran. Of those who ran, many were shinobi that the new administration denounced as traitors, deserters, and murderers. Two years later, a ragged group of children who vanished the night of the Sandaime's assassination, who would have been raised in relative peace but instead grew up running, were recruited to fight a war for the homes they barely remembered. In which Kakashi is forced to the forefront of yet another war, Itachi is given to maudlin internal monologues, Shisui alternates between coping and dissociating, and Zabuza wonders why he couldn’t have left the honor to the fucking samurai.

Fair warning, not a Sakura-centric, but she is a main character! Really well written and super interesting story.

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Hokage By Necessity - Evil Is A Relative Term || ffn || T || canon divergence || incomplete

Hokage-it was Naruto's dream, just as Sasuke was his promise. And for a short, glorious time, he had them both. But when tragedy strikes, it is Sakura who must continue to bear the reality of the dream: endless paperwork, bickering Kage, and political factions.

Wow wow wow, so good! Shows the less-than-glamorous reality of what it truly means to be Hokage. Super interesting read that sheds light on the fact that the strongest person isn't always the best leader. Definitely has a heavy focus on politics (and the author clearly thought about said politics).

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Once again, please send me recs of this genre since I'm obsessed!

[fantasy-anatomy-analyst]

quick orc tusk update

(image description: a digital portrait of a very old orcish man, in a side profile bust. His white-gray hair is braided, and he has multiple piercings on his face. His tusks are large and curled into circular shapes, creating a full loop with the tips moving up above his pig-like snout. The tusks have simple metal cuffs around them, connected with short tight chains. end description.)

having done more research, I decided I was being far too tame with my orc tusks. Here's a photo of a real boar tusk with the root intact:

(image description: a photo of a boar tusk that almost forms a full circle. The root is about half the circle, covered in dark lines and much thicker than the tip of the tusk. there is a clear line where the tusk emerged from the gums. end description.)

boars, as in male pigs or hogs, have tusks that grow until they die. and sometimes the tusks are the cause of death, because they will curve back and stab the boar right in the face and keep growing. sows, as in the female pigs/hogs, will have tusks that stop growing in adulthood. frequent fights can break the tusks, and the upper jaw tusks that stay shorter actually keep the lower jaw tusks sharpened. which is cool.

this is why domesticated pigs usually have their tusks removed while they're young. the size of that root would make removal extremely difficult later. if you think a wisdom tooth removal is bad, try having that thing taken out of your jaw. ouch.

I have been drawing my orcs with smaller tusks, tastefully small. just big enough to stand out. But I think from here on out I'm going to draw them much bigger and start adding more interesting dental jewelry to show how they got the tusks to grow in specific directions, like how this old orc's tusks have been manipulated into spirals far enough away from his face to keep them from stabbing him.

Of course, there could also be interesting differences between orc cultures. Those that place more value in people who use their tusks, allowing them to break and grow in more natural ways through fights that are considered honorable, social bonding time, even a form of diplomacy through combat. maybe a great warrior would prove their prowess by keeping their many broken tusk tips as a necklace.

and in other orc cultures, perhaps they place more importance in keeping their tusks long and carefully shaped, considering the long tusks to be a sign of wisdom, of someone who thinks more before acting, rather than recklessly solving their problems by force, or they could be a sign of spiritual power.

Neither option is more correct than the other, it just shows the different ways orcs might build their cultures and make their tusks part of their traditions.

[tssidesfics]

Updates

We've entered the holiday season, which I don't really give two shits about except kinda Halloween and even then I never do anything. But my abusive parents do, and the way they manifest that is, weirdly, by just increasing the abuse for the last three months of the year. I think I'm fine enough, but I'm going to be struggling with depression through the end of the year, meaning I likely won't get much written. It's all tricky writing from here on out with all my series.

Said series are: A Story of a Soul in All Its Stripes (best known: Morality Is Grey, my 100K+ word series about how I think Virgil defected from the Dark Sides including all the episodes written out with minor differences explained by Thomas remembering these conversations back to write the scripts). In All the Fifty-One and a Seventh Realms (uneducated disabled dhampir Virgil, disabled Janus/Remus in an anarchists-with-benefits relationship, namely exemplified by the one where Janus is cursed to be a politician and Remus insists an over-it succubus sex worker's help in saving him). And Superhero Toddler Roman, which speaks for itself, I think it's a pretty original concept. Along with many, many one-shots. Browse my AO3 and see if there's anything you recognize I've worked on. https://archiveofourown.org/users/thein273

If you have some spare money, and my writing has ever touched you in any way, please consider donating to my Paypal. I'm disabled in several ways, I can't work, I have months more at a minimum to wait on disability, and the only source of income I have isn't particularly helpful. I can't afford mentally to really do commissions right now except with very generous donations, but I've written a lot, and I've shared a lot with my communities. If I mean anything to to you as a writer, it would mean a lot to get just a little better of cushioning to get through the holidays, for my safety.

But there are also a lot of people who need the money more than me, so if it's between donating to a Palestinian family or me with your spare five dollars, choose the Palestinian family. Just check yourself so you're not giving money to one of those vile scam artists who are using people's real pain and unimaginable trauma and suffering to fleece well-meaning people out of a quick buck.

One of these days, I'll try to launch and maintain a Patreon, but that's for another day.

paypal.me/everdean03