#debby match up

[togetherhearted]

hi! if its still open, can i get a ror matchup? thank you and take your time!

prominent personality traits: passionate (inwards, only express when some small thing im actually interested in comes up), levelheaded, contemplative (outwardly), opinionated, honest (heart on my sleeve). realistic but optimistic about it. individualistic. im very soft on the inside though

hobbies/talents: i like to read and write and listen to music and taking walks. i'm really good at explaining things in a very cohesive manner. my logic is really good, so my persuasion is extremely good too. im very efficient and creative, which i apply to many things in real life.

love languages: physical touch and quality time.

extra stuff: i usually get taken too seriously a lot. i give good advice too

PS: i want to introduce you to this really nice website called ktestone if you like taking quizzes. they have some really accurate results! heres one of mine that may also help in the matchup

Hi! As you can see it's still open!

I've never heard of this site but as someone who doesn't mind indulge myself with quizzes I will gladly try it out!.

As for the result I match you with sir Jack the Ripper.

What my mind focused on was mostly the love language. As a gentleman quality time and act of services are his way to go. He's still learning about emotions and such so to not let the words betray him he shows,doesn't tell.

I bet Jack would love to spend quite evenings hand in hand with a good book. He would read to you even;giving a bit of flavour in it.

He can see souls so you have his trust. An honest partner puts him at ease.

[whatwouldmickeydo]

say more about the dodgeball i am on my knees begging

Melly can’t you just imagine it so clearly though??

It’s a gorgeous summer day and they’re all congregated in someone’s backyard with the radio blasting and the grill going, kids running all over the place, sun shining overhead. The first time in ages that everyone’s schedule has worked out so all of them can be there together, no work issues, no children’s birthday parties, no one getting sick last minute.

Carl’s there with his new side piece, Debbie’s back together with Sandy for the third or fourth time (no one remembers).

Someone’s digging around in the shed looking for who knows what when a whole bag of random balls accidentally gets loose and out come a heavily deflated soccer ball, a basketball that doesn’t bounce, and two perfectly good dodgeballs.

Mickey’s lounging against the picnic table nursing his third beer when he spots them and elbows Ian as he nods over at the balls.

“Ey, you wanna play? I was the fuckin’ bomb at dodgeball.”

Ian eyes him warily. He has no doubt in his mind Mickey was good at dodgeball, most likely pulling every dirty trick he knows in order to win. And Mickey when he’s given free range to purposely hit people with things? All bets are off.

“Uh, not sure if anyone else is gonna be interested. They probably wanna relax and just hang out and —“

“Yo, Tamietti! You up for dodgeball?”

Ian feels whatever hope of getting out of this shrivel up when he hears her shouting back.

“Hell yeah Milkovich, you on my team?”

The two of them amble off to go round up more people, Ian and Lip staring at each other with dread.

“This isn’t gonna end well, is it?”

“Not for us, man.”

And he’s right. He’s so painfully and impossibly right, he thinks to himself as he shifts the bag of frozen peas further on his head.

He’d expected Mickey to be brutal but had somehow thought Tami being a mom would have mellowed out some of her harsher instincts. Yeah right. The massive bruise forming on his upper arm thanks to a terrifying softball like pitch from her is gonna be ugly as fuck when it starts to heal, he just knows it.

There’s a cackle of glee and a whoop from somewhere off to his left, then a cheer and the sound of someone hitting the ground with a painful groan.

He’d take a look but his whole body hurts and honestly, he’s gotten tired of watching the unholy combo of Mickey and Tami raining terror against almost all the inhabitants of the party (children had been immediately relegated to the sidelines, thank god).

A shadow falls over his face and he squints open the eye not covered by the frozen peas to see his husband staring gleefully down at him, sweaty as fuck and not a scratch on him.

“You alright there, lover?”

“Fuck off.”

Mickey cackles.

“Come on man, lemme get you inside and I’ll give you a nice lil rub down for that stellar effort you made.”

He grunts but allows Mickey to help him up, flipping him off when he’s right side up again.

“You and Tami are an actual nightmare and we are never doing that again,” he grumbles as he limps his way inside, Mickey snickering behind him.

[twicetheheartx2]

“All I ever wanted was Ballerina Barbie, in her pretty pink tutu.”

Debbie Jellinsky (Addams) for Day 2 of Inktober

[scoups4lyfe]

so when i mentioned that it's very important that Michi is not a bull, but a buffalo, Ace's quote in episode 5 is a central part of that. They tease him for being a bull, sure, but his character was never about anger. (also there is an actual bull in the season and she shows up later) "The lone buffalo, too proud to follow the herd." Michi's whole character is about pride and loneliness above all else. Forging your own path both for better and for worse.

That's a recurring thread from episode 1 to now.

👀

the recurring thread of pride and loneliness oooooh.

That's fkin

🔥SPICY🔥

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

ASL brothers HAIKYUU!! AU!!!!!

Day one of Self Indulgent month for me! I love these three, i love haikyuu, i love killer whales!

(The Naval Academy is this au’s version of marines)

For those who dont know, in Haikyuu (and prob in real life too but in my experience its not as important as they make it in the anime) The "Ace" of the team is the person who primarily scores points via spiking. Theyre the Hard Hitter, basically.

Design talk👇

Originally, i was gonna make their school mascot just "The Pirates" but i couldnt figure out a clever pun with the school name so i scrapped it in favor of an animal mascot. I figured I would have a wider range of puns that way.

I landed on Orcas as the mascot because I think they really embody a pirate way of life. Theyre strong, hang out in groups of a mix of found family and their actual family, hate the rich, and theyre fun loving! And also im a bit biased because theyre my favorite animal, but hey, i said its self indulgent month, didnt I?

Their school name is a play on the word for Killer Whale (Shachi シャチ) and the word for 'knowledge' (Chishiki 知識), i just smashed the two words together. I'm very proud of myself for coming up with that given i dont speak japanese at all.

Anyway, with their designs, I was taking inspiration from orcas to match the design themes of haikyuu. Ace's hair is bleached on the underside to look like the underside of an orca's body, I made ace and sabo's eyes look more whale-like, the clip in sabo's hair is meant to resemble to spots behind orca's eyes, and I tried to make luffy's hair look more like it's round and spiking down more than i usually do.

Ace is wearing a ''way of the ace" shirt in the first picture, Luffy is wearing a shirt that just says "VOLLEY BALL" because i think it would be funny if he wore a bunch of those Zero-context-poorly-translated-random-english-words shirts that theres a bunch of in Asia. Sabo dyes his hair like delinquents do, but it doesnt much look delinquent~y because of how soft it looks. He means to do it to make him look like a delinquent though. Sabo still has his scars in this au, but he uses his hair, arm braces, and leg braces to cover them up. LUFFY AND ACE HAVE FUNKY SOCKS BECAUSE NO ONE CAN TELL THEM (or me) THEY CANT. Sabo wears athletic socks though because he's a debbie downer. He defends himself saying “It’s practical” and Ace and luffy call him “practically a Debbie Downer.”

Luffy is very good at receiving from growing up with Sabo and Ace practicing setting and spiking with eachother and assigning Luffy as Ball Boy. So he got the libero position from that cuz sabo and ace put in a good word for him. Nepotism.

I didn't feel like coming up with designs for them, but Zoro and Bepo are also on their team (theyre in the fifth image sitting on the right of the line of students). Koala and nami are student managers, Robin is the teacher manager, and Franky is the coach. all other straw hats/luffy friends, rev army comrades, and whitebeard brethren are in the stands. Im trying to keep the ages consistent with how they are in canon.

I didnt do a very in depth research, but i couldnt find what Japanese schools have as mascot costumes. and given no one wears any costumes in haikyuu for their team, i can kind of assume they dont use them over there. But unfortunately for them, I'm American. And part of the backbone of our schooling system, is Vaguely Unsettling Mascot Costumes. My sister says my design for it looks like its from Club Penguin, and i find that delightful. [moment of silence for my billions of fallen Puffles, taken from me in The Shutdown] Anyway.

I thought I was clever coming up with the equivalent of the Marines in this au being a Naval Academy. And their mascot being Seals, famously the animal that gets the absolute Worst Of It from orcas. Get shit onnnnn

I believe thats about it, thanks for coming to my ted talk :)

[someonegoood]

MY WHOLE LIFE pt. 1 ✫ mason mount

part 1, part 2, final part.

in which you have a fat crush on your brother’s best friend, without getting much success. (brother’s best friends troop).

CONTAINS: brother’s best friend troop, angst & fluff ! age gap, arguments...

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this is my first work here but anyways i hope you guys like it ! maybe I'll do a part 2...

You watch proudly in his shirt as you clap in the game's first minutes, chanting while taking pictures of him.

The first half was pretty equal, with some shots from both teams but neither could score. You could see that Mason was getting nervous. He stopped his movements abruptly when the referee called for a corner and looked at the crowd, his eyes sparkling with tenseness.

He gazed down at where his family (and therefore also yours) was and licked his lips. You couldn't help but wonder what would your brother think of your little —huge— crush on his childhood best friend.

In the 34th minute, he passed the defenders and tried to score with a pass from Ben Chilwell, making the goalkeeper lose his balance and thus scoring.

You celebrated the goal screaming it to your brother's face and he couldn’t help but smile at you, happy that you were having a good time. Your cheeks were red after Mason approached the stands and celebrated the goal, dedicating a kiss to where you were.

And that was the effect that Mason Mount had on people, especially you.

Mason was your brother's best friend, you had known him for years. It was a stupid crush that all your friends grew out of but not you. You had to keep drooling every time he was near you, that being almost every day because your brother had him over to dinner nearly every night.

You remember the day the Mount family moved next to your house, a loud and proud British family— Debbie and Tony, Stacey, Lewis and Mason. The day after they had moved in, Debbie and Tony turned up outside your door, asking if your older brother was interested in playing football with Mason.

It didn’t take long for your brother to become close to Mason, both at the cusp of boyhood. Their friendship only bloomed from there.

After spending almost every weekend watching your brother and Mason training, to spending most afternoons around the Mount house playing, you felt like family.

You always found yourself drawn to the boy next door although he was away a lot of the time, playing different matches and training. Mason’s natural affinity and talent for the game, ensured the quality of his skills.

He was slightly older so no doubt he found you childish and would always moan when his parents made him spend time with you.

—Mom, not again! I don't want to play with her, she's boring! —Mason exclaimed with an expression of obvious annoyance on his face.

Mason's mother was the first to figure out your crush on the boy. She first noticed it when you joined the Mounts at a family dinner when you were around thirteen.

Both families were playing football, as usual, while the adults were preparing supper. When you had the ball you felt your body lean way too far back and Mason tried to act on impulse, stretching his body to catch you in time.

—Hold on to me! —Mason exclaimed, extending his arms towards you. However, the weight of the fall was too much, and in an instant, they were both on the grass, in some sort of mess.

—Mase, God, I'm so sorry! I dragged you with me! —you apologized, feeling the blood rise to your cheeks, turning them crimson red.

He brushed the grass off his jacket with an angry expression. —Well done. First minutes into the game and you're already annoying.

—Thanks for trying! —you laughed, shyly. When there was a long silence, you realized that Mason was not joking and was serious. —Sorry, I…

Debbie looked from afar at the little girl carefully while she kept her eyes glued to her son's. She watched her cute little cheeks tinted red as Mason scoffed and begged you to stay away from him.

Debbie would soon get used to it as she watched you fall in love with her son over the next few years.

Until your first boyfriend. An age difference of three years was not a big deal since it was a common factor among your friend's partners. You had recently turned sixteen years old and you thought that you had met the boy who could take you out of the charm that had her wrapped around Mase.

Lyon was older, he was eighteen years old, like Mason. You had met him at school on a spring afternoon. You walked through the school hallways, books clutched to your chest. A gust of wind caused some of the books to fly out of your hands, scattering them across the hallway floor.

Lyon was passing by and noticed the scene. He approached you with a smile and that is how the story started.

Your brother didn't approve of your new boyfriend. He knew that her sister just wanted to show his best friend that the age difference wasn't that important.

Being with Lyon was great at first. You knew that he was not the love of your life, but for the moment he seemed to play the role quite well, so that was fine with you. It was a Friday night and you and your brother were at a party at the house of one of your brother's friends.

You were downstairs in the kitchen while your friends watched you drink alcohol like there was no tomorrow. They realized something was bothering you, but decided not to mention it.

—Where is the lover boy anyway? —Spoke one of your friends.

Your lack of response was when they realized that Lyon was the reason for the sadness that was painted on their best friend's face. He abandoned you, once again. This seems routine, they thought.

You slammed your empty red glass against the kitchen counter, wiping the drip from your chin as you decided that was enough.

—I'll go look for him.

From the corner of the room, your brother wished you good luck and with courage, you stumbled through the party. The house was huge. Enormous windows covered the entire house. From the kitchen window you could see the river of lights going down to the beach.

And there he sat, on the stairs leading to the illuminated outdoor pool, Lyon. A thin blonde girl was sitting on his lap, probably older than you. She took the cigarette from Lyon's lips and placed it on top of her painted red lips.

Tears welled in your eyes as you returned to the house with your heels in hand. With all the bad luck in the world, as you returned, you heard in the background:

—Baby, relax. —You ignored your boyfriend's call as you made your way through the crowd to return to the kitchen, hoping that your brother was still there.

You made it to the kitchen before your boyfriend grabbed you by the back of your arm and pushed you against the kitchen island.

—Come on, I didn't even do anything—

—She was on your lap.

—It's not that serious, okay?—

—It's a big problem! I'm humiliated! —You shouted back, creating a scene you desperately wanted to avoid. Lyon's grip tightened around your arm as he tried to wriggle out of your grasp.

—Let go of me, you're hurting me. —That only made his grip tighten around your arms.

—Let her go, mate. —Your vision was too blurry to focus on what happened next, but you felt Lyon back away.

—Oh yeah?… and what are you going to do about it, Mount? —That's when the punches were thrown and Lyon was left hunched over holding his split lip. Your now ex-boyfriend was grabbed by someone else before he could lunge at who you assumed was your brother, but when you turned your head you saw Mason shaking your hand out of pain.

His knuckles were red and his eyes were darker than what you were used to.

—Let's go to the car. —Said Mason, you nodding your head. —Get in the car. —He said. His tone was strong, not what she was used to.

Still, the ride to your house was silent, you sitting in the front with Mase, while your brother passed out in the back seat. Faint English music played on the radio as Mason's eyes were firmly fixed on the road.

Mason finally spoke. —You really don't know how to choose them, don’t you? — You could only sob again, unable to answer him mainly because he was right and you were ashamed. When the car stopped, he unbuckled his seat belt and murmured that he would walk you to your door.

Mase rocked on his heels as he watched the moonlight highlight the tear-stained cheeks of his best friend's sister. He thought you looked beautiful that night even though you had been crying for the last half hour, your hair hadn't been brushed, and you were digging through your purse like crazy.

Although he would never admit it.

—I got them! —You laughed, waving your keys in the air before bumping your nose with the keychain. You paused as you pushed the key into the door, turning to look Mason in the eye for the first time since the party.

—Thank you. —Mason didn't want to hear it. You were just her best friend’s sister.

—It's no big deal. —

—No… really thank you, Mason. —you smiled and Mason listened too, mainly because it was probably the first time you had called him Mason and not Mase.

After a moment, you dropped your bag to the floor and wrapped your arms around the boy's waist, your head resting on his chest as he quickly moved his hand and rubbed your back.

—Just... make sure the next one isn't a complete idiot, yeah? —he whispered, his chin resting on the top of your head.

That sentence broke your poor little heart.

[omgthatdress]

To get into the first looks that were made for Barbie, we need to understand the beauty and fashion of 1959.

1950s fashion existed under that shadow of World War II. Women of the war era were hardy, hard-working, and practical. Fashion was also extremely practical, using as little rationed material as possible. The silhouette was boxy, masculine and almost military, with big broad shoulders and knee-length skirts. Rationing and austerity continued in the years immediately following the war, but then in 1947, something miraculous happened:

(The Metropolitan Museum of Art)

Christian Dior created “The New Look.” Now okay, fashion in general had been leaning into this new silhouette and Dior was far from the only designer to be working with it, but his was the most copied and most iconic.

“The New Look” was a call back to the sumptuous femininity of the mid-Victorian era, bringing back tiny waists held in place by impossibly tight corsets and big, full skirts with crinolines and hoops. 

The silhouette was a return to classic femininity, but the materials garments themselves were pure modernity: a practical ensemble for a wealthy woman-on-the-go who was lunching with her friends in Paris.

Looking back at Barbie’s 1959 looks, Christian Dior’s fingerprints are all over them, but I see plenty of other designers in the mix, as well. It’s actually very easy to find near-matches of almost all of Barbie’s 1959 looks with a cover of Vogue from the 1950s. Barbie from the get-go was an idealized woman who existed in a world that was separate from the middle-class American suburbs that the little girls who played with her lived in.

Looking at classic first-run Barbie, there’s honestly not a whole lot to say about the bathing suit look. I mean, yeah, that’s what fashionable women wore to the beach in the 1950s. Her buxom curvy body fit the idealized standards epitomized by Marilyn Monroe.

Her face has the heavy makeup that was worn by French fashion models of the time.

Arched, heavily-styled brows, eyeshadow, slightly winged eyeliner, mascara, and of course perfect red lips with matching mani and pedi. One of my pet peeves about vintage style is when people wear winged eyeliner as “50s housewife glam.” NO. Your average middle class American Mrs. Homemaker was not wearing that kind of makeup. Winged eyeliner in the 50s only had a small wing that accentuated the eyelashes, and was generally only worn by the high-fashion crowd. Maybe on a special extra glamorous date with Mr. Husband, but not to a church potluck. Anyway, end of rant, but you see that’s what Barbie is trying to emulate.

Her hair, however is different: the poodle hairstyle was one favored by teenage girls. Seen here on the squeaky-clean America’s sweetheart, Debbie Reynolds:

The playful, youthful hair pulls her back and keeps her from being *too* grown-up. It’s the first step in the balancing act that Barbie has always pulled off with aplomb: to represent adulthood without being too far out of reach of children’s imaginations.

[libraryofgage]

Addams Family B-Side Four

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually

Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three | Four (you’re here!) Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz) Jedidiah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One

Here it is boys!

Actually, this part was line-jumped on Ko-Fi, which means y'all got it sooner than I originally planned lol

If you want to line jump your favorite series, you can learn more here

Anyway, we have more developments in this chapter! I hope you enjoy them 👀

A meme is at the end for your entertainment too!

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

-------

Eddie has plans for the walk to Steve's house. He's going to compliment the bats on Steve's cropped hoodie. He's going to ask if Steve is aware he's allergic to raspberries. He's going to gently broach the subject of how Steve knows Pubert Addams.

And then, in a moment of cosmic injustice, Pubert fucking Addams is waiting with Steve at the end of the day. Eddie slows some when he sees them, his gaze lingering on Pubert as Steve offers him a thermos to drink from. He passes it back, and Steve looks like he's going to take a sip as well when Eddie calls out, "Stevie!"

Something gratifying and warm floods through him when Steve stops and looks his way. A smile tugs at his lips as Eddie hurries over, relieved to see the thermos being capped and put away. "Hope you didn't wait too long on me," Eddie says.

"We did," Pubert replies, grabbing Steve's hand and dragging him away.

Eddie frowns and catches up. "Why are you here?" he asks.

"Pubert and I walk together," Steve says, easily slipping his hand from Pubert's grip and moving to walk closer to Eddie. Their shoulders brush, Eddie gets another whiff of that cookies and cream scent, and Pubert glares. It's perfect. "Because we live next door to each other."

Eddie blinks, frowning slightly. Before he can say anything, Pubert smirks. "That's right," he says, pulling a cigar from his pocket. "We've known each other all our lives."

He strikes a match against his palm and lights the cigar, passing the match to Steve. When he takes it, Steve just lets the flame burn. Eddie watches as it gets dangerously close to Steve's fingertips, and without thinking, he licks his thumb and forefinger and pinches the flame to put it out.

Steve glances at him, a smile tugging at his lips. "Our parents are r--"

"Rather close," Pubert says, cutting Steve off and making Eddie's eye twitch at how rude it was. "In fact, Steve's parents specially requested I look after him at school."

"Oh," Eddie says, "you're the babysitter."

Pubert blinks and then frowns, looking upset that Eddie isn't more visibly jealous. That's good. That means Eddie is managing to hide his seething anger and envy well.

"So," Eddie says, deciding to steer the conversation away from Pubert. If he does it right, he can even ice him out entirely. "Why'd you transfer here, Stevie?"

"I caused irreparable emotional, psychological, and physical damage to students at my old school," Steve replies, finally passing the burnt match back to Pubert. He smiles lightly and adds, "That's what the police report says, anyway."

Eddie hums softly. "And, uh, why did you do that?"

"They wouldn't go to a museum with me."

"Sounds like they were just dumb, then."

That earns him a bright smile as Steve and Pubert stop outside a two-story home with fountains and cherub statues and an immaculate green lawn. It's surrounded by a white picket fence, the kind Eddie thought only existed in movies and 1950s nuclear family propaganda. Next to this house is a Gothic manor, for lack of a better description. It's dark, jagged, and seems to have clouds hanging over its rusted wrought iron fence.

"This is us," Steve says, gesturing to the Barbie Dreamhouse. "I'll see you tomorrow, Pubert."

With that, Steve grabs Eddie's hand and quickly pulls him through the fence's gate like they can't get inside fast enough. By the time Eddie has blinked, a large door is shutting behind him and he's standing in a foyer. "I'm home!" Steve calls, pulling off his shoes and gesturing for Eddie to do the same.

As he's wobbling to stay balanced while tugging one of his boots off, footsteps echo from the kitchen and a man's voice replies, "Welcome home, Steve!"

Eddie gets his first boot off and looks up as the owner of the voice steps into the foyer. The only thing that keeps him from dropping his shoe at the sight of the man is the unwavering desire to make a good impression on Steve and his parents.

"Father," Steve says, waving the man closer. "This is Eddie. We're going to be working on a project together. Eddie, this is my father, Fester."

Eddie sets his boot down and nods, taking the hand Fester offers. His skin is cold and clammy, probably corpse-like if Eddie had to guess, but he shakes with enthusiasm. Literally. The man's body is practically buzzing. "Great to finally meet you! Welcome to our home. Please make yourself comfortable. We'd love to have you for dinner."

"I thought we were having pot roast," Steve says.

"The oven is big enough for both."

It's a normal enough greeting and joking exchange that Eddie relaxes. He can see some of Steve's energy in Fester, the same wild glint in his eyes, and a similarly overwhelming gaze. Though, it puts him a little on edge when it's coming from Fester. Still. The same.

"Thanks. I, uh, I'll have to check about dinner, I guess, but I'll let you know." Fester drops his hand as he speaks, and Eddie hurries to take off his other boot.

"Of course," Fester says, nodding once. "You two go work. Just scream if you need anything."

"We will," Steve replies, waving for Eddie to follow him up a grand staircase. Literally. Eddie can't think of any other way to describe the marble steps with a polished railing and gilded edges. The whole thing looks like someone from HGTV should be waltzing through a doorway to describe the exact shade of paint they used.

He takes as much of it in as he can, eyes wide as Steve leads him to a balcony that overlooks the foyer. There are only two doors here, both of them across from each other, and Steve leads him to the one on the right. It's painted a soft yellow that reminds Eddie of ducklings.

"Oh," Eddie says, his voice soft and his eyes wide as he realizes just how rich Steve's family is.

The room is practically the size of Eddie's home and sectioned off into different areas. Against the back wall is a dramatic four-poster king-sized bed with one of those gauzy curtains hanging from the ceiling above it. The wall behind it is covered with flowering vines that crawl up and reach outward from behind the bed. A tiny three-step staircase to the left of it leads to what Eddie assumes is the bathroom, considering the edge of a sink that he can see through the crack in the door. To the right is a doorway that leads to a balcony, and Eddie can see a small set of porch furniture through the glass.

To Eddie's immediate left is a whole corner dedicated to a grand piano. Not a mini one, but a full-sized grand piano and its bench. A bookcase pushed against the wall next to it is filled with books of sheet music. To his immediate right is a large work table. Papers are scattered across it, and Eddie wouldn't think anything was wrong if not for the wall of weaponry directly above it. Swords, maces, a few tasers, two spears, and one trident, among others, are carefully arranged on hooks and display pins.

Suddenly, Eddie thinks about that mace Steve pulled out when they first met. He'd told himself that Steve couldn't possibly have been serious about using it, but now he's starting to second guess that assumption.

"Where do you work best?" Steve asks, pulling Eddie from his thoughts about the weaponry wall.

"Oh, uh, on the floor," he says.

Steve smiles and leads Eddie over to the glass balcony doors, sitting directly in a ray of sunshine that makes his hair glow and creates a halo effect. Eddie nervously wipes his palms on his jeans before sitting across from Steve, marveling at how plush the carpet is.

"What did you think of my idea in class?" Steve asks, glancing at Eddie before pulling notebooks and pens out of his bag.

It takes a few seconds for Eddie's brain to catch up. "I like it," he says, hesitating for a moment before asking, "Do you actually find it interesting, though? I mean...you don't really..."

"Look like I know anything about heavy metal?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I think the genre is given a little too much credit for converting people to Satanism. I mean, it's just discounting the work put in by others, you know? As a genre, though, it's pretty revolutionary, right? Like, it was doing and saying stuff nobody had heard before when it first made an appearance."

The more Eddie listens, the more excited he gets. Not only is Steve gorgeous and wild and unpredictable, he also knows a little about heavy metal and doesn't just write it off as unintelligible noise.

"How much of a history lesson are you prepared for, big boy?" Eddie asks, unable to help his grin as he leans forward.

Steve imitates his lean, his own smile a little softer. Eddie misses the way it becomes just a tiny bit smug when he glances down to see Steve's top hanging forward enough to see his chest. He's just about to do something incredibly stupid when Steve says, "As much as you're willing to give me."

Eddie blinks and looks back up, searching Steve's eyes for a few seconds. He doesn't seem sarcastic. In fact, he seems happy to listen to Eddie describe the genre, which only makes his already monumental crush grow three sizes.

--------

Eddie's heavy metal history lesson takes the better part of an hour to get through, and Steve spends the entire time slowly inching his way closer. He crosses the space between them as Eddie describes foundational bands and concept albums and the branching off of heavy metal from the rock 'n' roll genre tree.

By the time Eddie starts to lose steam, his eyes still bright and his face red from barely breathing the entire time, their knees are pressed together, Steve is happily leaning closer to occupy more of his space, and Eddie's hand had gravitated to Steve's calf without permission.

Steve smiles, happily filing away for later the bands Eddie mentioned and the albums he particularly liked. "So," he says, his voice soft but easily getting Eddie's attention, "sounds like we know everything for our presentation."

"You got the perfect partner for this project, sweetheart."

His grin widens, and Steve hums softly, leaning a little closer. This seems like a perfect chance to put one of his mother's lessons into action: ambiguously hint at more but don't follow through. "I'm not doing much work, though," he says, placing his hand on Eddie's knee.

Eddie squirms slightly, glancing down at Steve's hand before looking back up, a blush crawling along his cheeks and reaching for his ears. "You can, uh, design it. Yeah. Design the presentation."

"Is that really all I could do?"

Steve can see the moment Eddie registers his meaning, his eyes widening and the blush officially spreading to his ears and down his neck. He opens his mouth, glances away, and seems to blurt out the first thing he can think of to change the subject. "So, uh, w-what's with the weapons?"

"Doesn't everyone have a weapons wall?"

"Yeah, no. Uh, that might just be you, Stevie."

Steve tilts his head, humming softly as he glances at his weapons. "They're weapons I've won fights with," he says, looking back at Eddie with a bright smile. "I'm the best fighter in the family."

"Oh. Cool. And, who were you...fighting?"

"My cousins. Wednesday is the best opponent. She fights dirty. Pugsley isn't much of a fighter, really. What is much faster than me, but they always trip over their hair. I haven't won against Uncle Gomez just yet, but he has years of practice on me. Aunt Tish says it's just a matter of time, anyway. The trident, though, that was a bar mitzvah gift."

"You're Jewish?"

"On my mother's side."

"Oh," Eddie says, glancing at the wall again. His eyes linger on the trident for a moment before he asks, "And what about your dad's side?"

"I'm an Addams."

"An....Addams?"

Steve knows he's just killed Pubert's fun, but he doesn't care. He wants to see what Eddie looks like when he's angry. He wants to see what Eddie looks like when he's angry for and about Steve. "Fester Addams," he says, "Harrington is just a name of a family friend on my mom's side. She thought it sounded nicer."

Eddie's brain is visibly chugging along, turning this information over until his eyes spark with anger and frustration, his hand on Steve's calf tightening without him realizing. "And Pubert?" he asks, his voice low and more of a growl than anything else.

It sends an excited shiver down Steve's spine, and he suddenly knows Eddie can be mean and vicious and merciless if Steve only nurtured those tendencies with very positive reinforcement. "Pubert's great with explosives, but he's not good at close range fights. He doesn't even protect his kidneys. They're so easy to stab," Steve replies.

"Well, if it's that easy," Eddie mutters.

His words send a thrill down Steve's spine, and he can't help leaning into his space. He places his hands on Eddie's thighs for balance, far above the knee, and only stops when their noses are almost brushing. "I could hold him down for you," he offers, hearing Eddie gulp at their proximity.

"I, uh, might take you up on that," Eddie whispers, glancing down at Steve's mouth and staring at it.

Steve waits a few seconds, but Eddie doesn't do anything more. He internally sighs, lamenting the lack of initiative but happy that he gets to keep teasing, and leans back. "Well, just let me know," he says, his voice light as he shifts out of Eddie's reach.

He picks up his notebook, flipping it open to a blank page, and looks up. Eddie is staring at him like he's just seen Heaven only for the gates to close on him. He looks desperate but confused, and Steve decides it's a very cute look on him. "So, do you want to hear my ideas for the presentation?" he asks, flashing an innocent smile that pulls Eddie back to the present.

"Yeah. Sure. Explain away," Eddie says, his voice a little strained. Pride swells in Steve's chest at having caused the strain, and he pretends not to notice Eddie's attempts to subtly inch closer as he outlines design ideas.

When Eddie is finally close enough for their shoulders to touch, Steve rewards his initiative by leaning against him.

-------

Tag List (there's no more room on the list, so please follow the addams family b-side tag to see updates!)

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And now, two more memes because they're both funny

[gatorbites-imagines]

Hello! I hope you're doing good

I saw your post the other day that you were accepting requests but I don't know if you still are, but if you are, I was wondering if we could get some Nolan Grayson content👉👈

Nolan Grayson NSFW alphabet

I was given the chance to write anything, so alphabet time. This is post season 2 Nolan, cuz hes my bbygirl, and I think hed be a better partner in general.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

I don’t believe viltrumite culture really does aftercare. They sleep together to have offspring, or maybe as a dominance thing, but I can’t see them doing a lot of healthy kink stuff, or just cuddling afterwards. He probably did something akin to it with Debbie, but its only after leaving it all behind after season 1 and getting with you that he would start to see more importance in it, especially when you give him a lot of aftercare whenever you are in charge. Hes not the best at it yet, but he does try.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On his partner, Nolans favorite part would be any muscularity they have, or if you happen to have a beard. If you have neither then its his partners thighs and hands. On himself its his muscles, especially his torso and arms.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

I hope you got a bucket, viltrumites get the kryptonian treatment in this house. Which means, theres so much cum. Nolan produces even more than Mark. Mostly because hes older and is in his “prime” if that makes sense. Unlike Mark though, Nolan doesn’t see the amount he makes as an annoyance, since hes still quite prideful. You do catch him puffing out his chest a little if you mentioned its something you find attractive though.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Has always had fantasies of being dominated or defeated in battle, whereafter the enemy will have their way with him. He has never once acted on these fantasies, but now that he’s with you and has gotten a reality check he might little by little try to step out of his comfort zone. Has had a few fantasies of being defeated, captured, and made into some kind of trophy wife, think like Leia in the slave dress type situation.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Theres no way to know how old Nolan is, but its assumed hes thousands of years old. This doesn’t mean hes got a lot of experience, since like I mentioned before, I believe viltrumites only do it to reproduce or for dominance. Hes probably gotten more game on earth than most of his life up till that point, so theres things you’ll have to teach him.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Any position that puts you above him or has you pinning him in some way, especially loves any position where you choke him in some way, be it your hands or with your arm. When hes feeling more dominant himself you better except him to pull an amazonian position or something like that.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Nolan is serious in most situations, and the bedroom is the same, especially since part of him feels a little strange just doing it for fun like this. But also because Nolan thinks he has to pay attention and learn, to make up for his less stellar experiences in the past.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Nolan doesn’t shave any of the hair on his body, except for his beard to get his usual stache. Viltrumites I believe would take pride in their bodyhair. He does keep it neat and tidy though, kinda like a controlled chaos.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Nolan doesn’t really know how to be way too romantic in the moment, since being in love without a purpose is still so new to him. He has his moments though, where he just kinda looks his partner in the eyes with the most love filled eyes. Saying it, is still difficult though.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)                                                                                                                                       

The normal amount for viltrumites his age, which I believe would be once a day or once every two days, just to keep themselves from backing up too much of it. up until recently hes probably mostly done it for his health, but after getting with you he starts to do it for fun.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Doing it in the suit, or just his cape for that matter.

Strength and power in general.

Blood kink, pain kink, what comes with fighting.

Sparring and training with his partner.

Powerplay

BDSM

Sensory deprivation

Asphyxiation and choking

Edging and overstimulation

Breeding (secretly, on him)

Roleplay (like the slave Leia and owner type roleplay. Getting this from him will be almost impossible though)

Dom/sub or master/slave

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Nolan could honestly do it anywhere, he doesn’t have a preference. That comes with being his age and having an ego like viltrumites tend to do. Hes a preference for doing it on battlefields or wherever you guys spar though.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Its not that hard to get Nolan going, but hes much better at containing it than Mark, but that’s more because of age and life experiences. The easiest way to get him going is to get his adrenaline up, so sparring or even outright fighting. That, or just jerking off somewhere nearby, cuz he will hear and smell it with ease.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Share. Nolan wouldn’t share himself or his partner with anybody, he is very possessive. Especially other viltrumites. It would be like putting to male hamsters together, one of them dies before its over.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Didn’t have much of a preference in the past since it wasn’t really anything he paid too much attention too. But with Debbie he preferred receiving, since it was the more “dominant” role. But with you he learns that he quite likes giving, he just has a hard time in the beginning getting on his knees below you.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on the situation, but most of the time its slow and hard. But if its after you guys have sparred or fought, its faster and even rougher. He loves when you treat him roughly too. But there are times where its more slow lovemaking than anything else.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Nolan doesn’t have anything against quickies, its just not his favorite. If you both are in the mood, sure he enjoys it, but he prefers when you guys can take your time. But this also stems from viltrumites having so much damn stamina that one quickie doesn’t even scratch the itch.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Nolans for trying most things, even more dangerous stuff, unless you are vulnerable like a human or something else in that genre, he wouldn’t want to accidentally crush you with his thighs or anything.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

More stamina than you could imagine, you can’t even dream of keeping up unless you are a fellow viltrumite, like Allen, or some other species like that. Could probably go nonstop for days, if not a couple of weeks without having to slow down. In the end, even If you are a fellow viltrumite, you guys probably just stop more out of boredom or because you have other things to do than exhaustion.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Doesn’t own toys, and doesn’t really see the purpose for the most part. Of course, he still has fantasies where they fit very well, but Nolan won’t admit it even if you can tell hes thought about it from his blush.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Depends on his mood for the most part. If you guys are alone, I could see him getting handsy or mumbling the raunchiest of things. The type to “accidentally” rip your clothes just right, or his own clothes for that matter, just to show off a little. He loves when you tease him too, he’s just still very bad at waiting it out.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not very loud, even if you’ve somehow gotten him deep into subspace. He’s mainly grunts and groans, and he clenches his teeth a lot, meaning you’ll have to put something in his mouth. But if you do put something in his mouth, you might get some gasped moans and whimpers if you’re lucky.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Has written multiple very successful adult novels under a penname when he lived on earth. One happens to be an extremely popular series based around his own most shameful (in his opinion) fantasies, involving a muscular warrior put under the boot of an even bigger and more muscular warrior. He’s not good at it, but Nolan likes to draw. It tends to mainly be doodles, but he’s surprisingly good at vehicles and landscapes.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Very big and thick, like, you are so lucky he turns out to like bottoming the most. How Debbie took it, you’ll never learn, but that woman deserves a damn medal. Both a grower and a shower, you think he’s big when he’s soft, you’ll be in for a surprise when he gets hard. Veiny and uncut.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Its always been quite average for a viltrumite his age and position, meaning he was fine taking care of himself up until now. Now Nolan finds himself fumbling every now and then, because he feels like an uncontrollable animal at times with how much he wants it. Nolan is able to suppress it though, more for his own pride and dignity than anything else.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Nolan doesn’t really fall asleep afterwards on the regular, its only if you’ve really wrung his dry mentally, by for example putting him in subspace or similar. But its almost impossible to get him physically tired enough to sleep. He does like to cuddle afterwards, even if he doesn’t like to admit it.

[mmmichyyy]

40? for the prompt

#40. "am i your husband or your taxi service?"

the first time it happens, mickey doesn't think much of it.

can you pick me up after my shift? too tired to take the L

when mickey is near the station, he parks the van a block away. force of habit from when he and his brothers used to sneak up and collect from people who owed terry money. plus, he doesn't particularly want ian's coworkers to see their stolen ambulance, even though it's completely unrecognizable after debbie helped them revamp the entire thing and paint over it with the logo sandy designed.

here

i don't see you

i'm parked a block away

pick me up at the station

your legs don't work?

i'm tired :(

i drove the van

it's fine no one will be able to tell lol

mickey rolls his eyes and drops his phone in the cupholder. as he pulls up across the street from the station, he sees ian standing on the curb, chatting with someone wearing a matching EMT uniform, a shorter man with tan skin and curly hair.

mickey honks once, a bit impatient since he's hungry as fuck and there's a large pizza he ordered earlier waiting for them at their apartment. ian lifts his head and smiles. as he waves goodbye to his coworker and jogs over to the van, mickey doesn't miss the way the dude is gaping at mickey with wide eyes and a dropped jaw.

the hell is this guy's problem?

"everything okay?" mickey asks, once ian buckles his seatbelt and reclines his seat.

"just tired." ian yawns. "had a long shift today."

"well," mickey puts the van in drive, reaching over the center console to ruffle ian's hair, promptly forgetting ian's weird coworker, "i already ordered a pizza so we can eat then turn in early."

ian smiles sleepily and interlaces his fingers with mickey's. "you're the best husband ever."

mickey shakes his head, biting back a smile. "sappy fucker."

*

after almost two weeks of ian asking to be picked up, mickey suspects something is up. not that he minds or anything, since he makes his own schedule nowadays. after the security business started turning a profit and ian went back to being an emt, he hired a couple of guys to drive the routes so he could work from home and catch up on admin work, freeing up a lot of time in his day to day.

but ian never used to mind the commute. he's the kind of long-legged freak who liked to take the scenic route and go on long runs in the morning, just for fun. absolutely deranged behaviour, in mickey's opinion. but lately, ian has been flashing his kicked-puppy eyes and asking to be chauffeured like a pampered prince and, well. mickey could never resist spending more time with his husband, so he hasn't said anything. not yet, anyway. god he's so whipped.

the excuses ian came up with, however, were more unbelievable as it went on, ranging from the train broke down (mickey knew for a fact it didn't), to spraining his elbow (though he had no problem throwing mickey on the bed later that night with his supposedly injured arm), to how it was going to rain later (it was sunny all day without a cloud in sight).

when mickey tried to call him out on his bullshit, ian either got down on his knees or flipped mickey over and fucked him senseless into the bed, promptly making mickey forget what the hell he was trying to say.

it's gotten to the point where ian stopped making excuses and simply asked mickey to come get him. which truthfully, mickey doesn't mind at all. but he just finds it odd how his beefy athletic husband had gotten so lazy.

"what's with you?" mickey finally asks one day, as ian climbs into the passenger seat.

ian blinks innocently. "what do you mean, dear husband of mine?"

mickey rolls his eyes. "am i your husband or your fuckin' taxi driver? 'cause i've been picking your ass up every day for the past two weeks when you have two perfectly functioning legs."

ian huffs, crossing his arms. "maybe i just want to spend more time with you."

"we live together," mickey points out flatly, "how much more time do you need?"

"i–"

a tap on the glass interrupts them, and mickey turns to see a woman with brown hair tied back in a ponytail, enthusiastically gesturing at him to roll down the window.

"the fuck?" mickey turns to ian, whose face has turned slightly pink. "did you forget something at the station?"

"ah, no." ian scratches his head sheepishly. "sue is just being... sue."

sue waves her hand again and mickey reluctantly lowers the window.

"mickey, this is sue, my supervisor, and sue, this is–"

"the elusive husband." sue grins. "i've heard a lot about you, mickey."

mickey raises his brow. "have you now."

"oh sure," she says, ignoring ian's frantic head shaking, "ian won't shut up about you, yapping on and on about mickey this and mickey that. we're all jealous at the station actually, everyone just complains about their partners while ian keeps gushing about how perfect and amazing his husband is. his words."

"huh." that explains a lot, actually, why there was always someone different waiting with ian every time he came to pick him up, and why they all stared at him like a circus freak. "well, i bet ian didn't tell you the time we stole an ambu–"

"okay," ian cuts in loudly, reaching over to turn the key in the ignition, "we're leaving. i'll see you tomorrow, sue."

"come to the company picnic next month," sue calls out. "it's a potluck and everyone is bringing their family. it'll be fun!"

"uh sure," mickey says, even though a social gathering with ian's nosy coworkers sounds like the least fun thing he's ever heard of. he looks over at ian, slumped in his seat, avoiding mickey's eyes. "I'll check my schedule."

once mickey drives around the corner, he playfully flicks his finger at ian's temple and ian rolls his eyes, shaking his head.

"you yap about me to your coworkers," mickey teases. "you're so fuckin' whipped."

"whatever," ian grumbles. "stupid sue calling me out."

"is that why you keep asking me to pick you up?" mickey asks, amused. "to parade me around like a little show dog?"

"well, eduardo blabbed to everyone he saw you, then everyone kept asking about you and wanted to see you in person, so..."

"hm." mickey reaches over and brushes his thumb over ian's palm. "what do you say about me?"

ian links their fingers together and sighs. "that you're attentive. funny. caring. protective. loyal. the ideal man."

mickey laughs. "you're really overselling me here, gallagher. did you forget i'm an ex-convict, pimp and drug dealer?"

ian waves him off and continues. "kind. loving. perfect in every single way, except when you leave your socks on the floor. oh and that you're hot as hell with an ass that won't quit."

"you talked about my ass?"

"okay, i didn't say the last part," ian amends, "your ass belongs to just me. but i meant everything else i said."

"you really are a sappy fucker."

"you love it."

"i'd love it even more if i didn't have to be your chauffeur every day, at least they get paid to drive back and forth."

"you come with me to the picnic, i'll pay you with favours in bed. i'll even throw in a big tip."

"a big tip, huh..."

[starrclown]

SunBurst duo headcannons that I have but can't explain why I have them but it's special to me.

(Look at them yall <3<3<3)

Before Wukong got comfortable with Pigsy, he was really shy about asking Pigsy to keep his food cool because he can't eat hot food. Mk started to ask for cooler noodles for Wukong.

They switched hair colors once. Wukong had dark brown hair and Mk was ginger. Wukong didn't like it but Mk really liked his. Pigsy made him dye it back because no one got used to ginger Mk.

Mk doesn't like peaches. At all. Wukong tells him it's alright and that he doesn't have to eat them but Mk forces himself to out of respect.

Mk has seen half of Wukong's glamors off. Wukong is still too afraid to let them all drop.

Mk has absolutely dressed up as Wukong for Halloween.

Mk didn't know what grooming was so when Wukong kept trying to mess with his hair, he kept swatting him off. Wukong eventually stopped and didn't attempt again. Mk then later found out monkies groom to show love and he cried. (This actually happened to me! My cousin has a capuchin monkey named Debbie and she did this to me when I was like 8. I didn't get what she was doing so I kept swatting her off. I got SO upset when I found out what she was going.)

Mk is Wukongs emergency contact number in his phone.

Mk knows some of the baby monkies by name. He even got to name a newborn.

Mk and Wukong like to color together. They even made a coloring book together!

Wukong sometimes turns into a small bird or cat and hides in Mks gold cart so he can go on Mk's noodle runs.

Mk just hops on Wukong when he wants a piggy back ride. Wukong started doing I too so now they just piggy back ride on each other.

Mk sometimes has nightmares about Wukong getting possesed or Wukong being trapped in the scrolls. Wukong usually has to comfort him.

Mk gave Wukong his own headband. Wukong uses it as a ponytail holder when his hair gets to long.

Wukong bites everyone as a love language. Not hard, just a little nibble. He first did this to Mk during midway through season 2 and season 3. Mk was confused but kinda rolled with it.

Wukong wakes up and attempts to take care of himself. Brushing his hair, teeth, and getting his clothes. Mk wakes up, puts his headband on and just goes. No thoughts.

Those two watch cartoons for HOURS on end. They have little movie nights :)

Mk was caught so off guard when he found out Redson was Wukong's nephew.

Mk before he knew about glamors, wondered why Wukong didn't look like how he was described (4 foot, red eyes.) but he was to scared to ask.

Mk stills feel bad that he didn't have faith in Wukong when he met Macaque. Wukong doenst hold it against him, he gets it.

Mk sometimes wears gold eyeshadow to match Wukong's blue eyeshadow. Sometimes they switch it up and change colors. (Bai He, Mei, and Redson sometimes join.)

I found this in my drafts and wanted to post it. Live laugh love SunBurst Duo.

(If you like Soysause duo more then GET OUT 😡

/J.) (Kidding)

- ⭐️StarClown⭐️

[s9fti3]

I just speed ran your blog n I love you? LMAO can we please get more Carl Gallagher headcannons? Idc what just whatever your brilliant mind thinks up 🙏💕

YES, OH MY GOSH IVE BEEN OUT

• Seeing Carl with braids was let’s say, an experience. It definitely was weird when you saw it, but you eventually got used to it after time passed.

• Carl is actually so good with kids, it’s crazy. You think it’s so sweet seeing him help Debbie with Franny, hang out with Liam, or if you have younger siblings, him hanging out with them as well.

• If you’re a Latina, trust me babe, he is enjoying that food. Yes he is a white boy, but at least he has taste. He is absolutely munching on empanada while he is high out of his mind.

• He is one of those, “I don’t really listen to music.” Kind of guy. So if you’re obsessed with music just like me, you WILL get him into it. By the time you guys are hitting the 1 year mark if your relationship, he probably knows almost every song from your favorite band.

• Such a sucker for a girl who gets her nails done. He thinks that nails that are just long enough where they feel nice when lightly scratching at his scalp of back are perfect. Adores the color light pink, baby blue, dark red, white, or black on your nails. Also likes French tips as well.

• While shopping at a makeup store, he’ll sit in one of the makeup chairs that aren’t being used and just watch you walk around the store picking up things you would like to buy. He would also 100% swatch lipstick on his arm, putting it in your bag because, “It matches my skin tone. So now when you kiss me it looks even more amazing on me.”

[scoups4lyfe]

#debby-downer here

oh he's much worse i hate the bull

Oh sh*t

Debbie antis take the stand

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

Just wanted to tell you that pitch fefnep is real as fuck and I appreciate you bringing it to my attention.

Are there any other pitch ships you seriously live for?

My big one is Eridan <3< Calliope (#callidan let's make it happen)! There's a lot of karmic stuff linking them together - I'm not going to say it ALL here, but suffice to mention that cherubs are naturally attracted pitch-wise to people who resemble the half they lost in predomination, and Eridan literally made his username "cal" (caligula, so it's even 8 letters, lmao).

Personality-wise, though, fully-character-developed Eridan and Calliope are like a match made in hell. Eridan is violent, obsessed with murder, deliberately likes to style himself as an arrogant, evil despot, says a lot of slurs, is a complete moron who doesn't listen to people but believes in stuff very very strongly anyways, and, assuming he's finished his character arc, somehow still manages to be a force for good. This makes him similar to Caliborn in a lot of ways (Hussie even calls Eridan a sort of proto-Caliborn MULTIPLE times in the book commentary), and Calliope would have a lot to get infuriated by, especially since that last point would give Eridan that "i hate everything about you, BUT..." factor that makes a pitch relationship work.

OTOH, Calliope gets super fucking smug when she starts winning, Eridan would 100% see her as a poser wizard (who needs to load their MAGIC WAND with BULLETS????) as well as a poser troll. She would also definitely adopt a stance of "every life is precious," and already displayed compassion and forgiveness to a dangerous degree wrt Caliborn, and all of this would probably piss Eridan off. Also, Eridan is easy, and the fact that Calliope is actually willing to entertain him in pitch at all is probably enough to get him to date her in blackrom all by itself. LBR, all it really takes to date Eridan is just being willing to date Eridan. This is both a low and high bar to clear.

Given that murdering and genocide-obsessing literally kept his friends alive long enough to play the game, I just can't see Eridan ever becoming a pacifist, or even coming to see murder as a bad thing (even if he'd feel bad about and apologize for murdering his friends specifically).

It'd also be pretty bad if the Hope player (ideals, convictions, faith, and also turning fake stuff real) had wrong beliefs, so Eridan's character arc wouldn't so much see his obsession with murder dropped so much as having it reoriented, his focus becoming "I care about my friends and will do anything to make sure they succeed in creating a better world. I'd kill for them. I will kill for them. I am going to kill for them."

He's still kind of a token evil teammate as a result - the guy who pipes up at every town hall to go, "y'know, murder is on the table. I'm not saying that I want to do it or even that we should, but I'm just reminding you that it's a tool in our arsenal, and something our enemies might resort to" as well as the debbie downer who reminds people that meat comes from animals that used to have families.

Plus, given that his hipster stuff ties in with being a Hope player - the staunch and firm beliefs in there being "better" stuff, the unshakeable conviction and dedication toward being anti-mainstream, and the fact that it's one of his few genuine interests besides magic - that trait actually gets exacerbated in lieu of the fake pro-empire, dualscar-emulating stuff he was doing before.

So, basically, Eridan given the full redemption arc + character development combo would spit out an Eridan that's MORE annoying than he was before? Because, like, not only is he a turbo pretentious hipster now, but he's also the "heartbreaking: the worst person you know just made an excellent point" guy. He's comfortable in his own skin, no longer trying to be something he isn't. Instead, with absolute, non-negotiable, unshakeable faith in himself, he is 100% of what he is.

"What he is," of course, being a neurotic, murder-obsessed, low-empathy lunatic with zero social skills, a pretentious hipster, a cringe-ass wizard who won't shut up about it and has no self-awareness of how cringe he's being, still 100% aggro 100% of the time, and an obsessive simp. In a very leftist/existentialist way, he would fully own up to having done horrible things, and being willing to do them again, should the circumstances call for them. "Shameless" is probably a good word to use, here.

Meanwhile, Calliope is genuinely well-meaning as fuck, even if she doesn't fully grasp things like "humans going trickster mode is bad actually" and that her fascination/obsession with the trolls and kids as "characters" still borders on dehumanizing.

Still, it's clear that she operates from a place of love and admiration, and given a lease on life free from her brother and surrounded by friends, I do genuinely believe Calliope's arc culminates in her being the embodiement of the ideas that we must be good to each other, kind to each other, loving to each other, and trust and care for each other. After all, she has it within her; her alternate self was willing to make the ultimate sacrifice for the good of several universes.

Still, Calliope as this cosmic, karmic force of good - what the comic ultimately exonorates and treats as something worthy of protection and rescue - sets her up against Eridan ideologically really well. Calliope represents "we must do good" in the most optimistic sense - people will be kind back if you are kind to them, and to create a loving society, a caring society, we must care about others, we must believe in others.

Meanwhile, Eridan would represent "we must do good" in the most dark and pessimistic sense - we must be prepared to sacrifice for each other, we hold duties to one another, we must be our best selves because we owe it to each other, we must not accept complacency, we must be ever-vigilant of our worst tendencies, we must take responsibility. No society exists without sacrifice, no revolution is without bloodshed, and nothing is ever worth fighting for that won't eventually need to be fought for - and who will do the fighting? The society that separates its scholars from its warriors will have its thinking done by cowards and its fighting by fools, etc.

Like how pitch FefNep works for me on this axis of pragmatism vs. idealism - Feferi and Nepeta are both fundamentally duking it out over what it means to create and administer a society, with Nepeta representing unbridled freedom, while Feferi brings to the table controlling restraint. Neither is fully correct on their own - Nepeta is anarchic, and so her ideals are inherently unstable, while Feferi is fascistic, which can cause great harm. It's Hegalian dialectics. Thesis, antithesis, and their union/rivalry is the synthesis into a greater nuanced balance between the two.

Callidan works for me in the same way: Calliope and Eridan are both fundamentally aiming to create a world that's good, and Calliope says, we must be kind, while Eridan says, we must be cruel. They're both correct, and both have an ideal that can't stand on its own. Calliope's hardline stance of pure compassion lets bad apples take advantage, while Eridan's hardline stance of sacrifice and personal responsibility leads to misery and unfulfillment. Together, they strike a harmony.

And also they'd be so funny together. Like

UU: i believe that in order to create a kind and beaUtifUl world, we mUst be kind to each other. we mUst believe in each other no matter what. there is no fUtUre if it is not boUnd in love, trUst, and empathy.

CA: yeah fuckin right dont tell me you actually BELIEVVE that codswwallop those ideals sure held up wwhen wwe MURDERED THE EVVER LOVVIN SHIT OUTTA YOUR BROTHER

CA: reality aint so fuckin simple evvery societys got sacrifices need doin evvil bastards need killin and somebodys got to pull the trigger

UU: i swear, speaking with yoU is aboUt as pleasant as a sandpaper facial.

UU: and yet i continUe to do so, and do yoU know why? it's becaUse i do, in fact, believe in what i said, and i will, in fact, continUe to treat yoU with *love and compassion* despite yoUr repeated efforts to throw mine into the bin!!!!!!!!!!!

CA: i nevver asked for your so called lovve and compassion skullhag and i dont bloody need it either

UU: well, that's jUst too bad, isn't it? poor eridan, yoU were treated so poorly on alternia, and now yoU're angry and Upset all the time. my heart aches for yoUr plight!

CA: ill showw you a flippin PLIGHT scumskull meet me at the usual place

UU: <kisses> ~3U

UU's computer exploded!

uranianUmbra [UU] began cheering caligulasAquarium [CA]

UU: STOP DOING THAT.

Also... they're both British... so it's British on British violence... IDK that personally really elevates it for me

[arieswritez]

glad you and this account exist, I feel like there’s a lack of Mark lovers lmao! but omg I can’t stop thinking about him, I feel feral but for the purpose of discussion I have to ask: what do you think his d!ck would look like?

cw; scummy bf!mark x gn!reader, abusive relationships (physical & emotional), angst, stalking, spying, harassment, manipulation, gaslighting.

a/n; i am super late but mark would have tHEE prettiest dick ever !! & i'll prove it!!!! in fact, his dick is SO pretty you'd let him do heinous things if it meant having it in your mouth teehee 🫶🏾🫶🏾 (& because i am not normal: i went on a tangent .. ik ik you didn't ask for this.. lemme alone!!! )

bf! mark who you always wanted to give the benefit of the doubt to. who'd always hide his snide comments under a playful half smile and the guise of it being "just a joke".

bf!mark who'd tell you not to worry about his relationships with other people. who'd say you were just being insecure and that he didn't know how to be with someone that like you. bf!mark who'd always make you cry whenever you voiced your opinions because he always made you feel so stupid, didn't he?

bf! mark who soon turns into exbf!mark because one day he just .. loses it. or at least, that was his excuse.

you've lost your temper many times before. with others. with him. but his anger is much more different than your own.

your anger simmers: the first symptoms of a poison muddying your mind with annoyance. the type that renders you silent with a lump in your throat. your tongue swollen with words unsaid because. . you know better. and your parent(s) had warned you time and time again about being cautious of what you say to those you love.

mark's anger is a roaring boil. explosive with scalding steam.

mark's anger is a burning fire caused by popping oil and you're the water who was naively thrown onto it in order to extinguish it. his anger is just as unpredictable as it is brief. and although you were used to the smallest of inconveniences turning into shouting matches, you thought you had mark all figured out.

plead your case. stand your ground.

wither.

apologize.

admit you were wrong.

even if you were sure you weren't.

it was the only way you could end your arguments. and you were good at playing that game. until you weren't. until the eggshells you were walking on cut the soles of your feet. up until that point, you'd never seen mark's ego so hurt.

and the backhand he gives you sends you to the ground with your right ear ringing.

as soon as you hit the floor, he's on his knees before you, cradling your face, so inconsolable anyone would've thought you hit him.

the soft press of his kisses, peppering across your face contrast with the burning sting of your cheek as he murmurs, "i don't know what got into me! i just get so angry - i swear i didn't mean to hit you that hard!"

and as you stared at him with a blank expression, your mind raced, trying to find an excuse as to what could've warranted that reaction. but for the first time, your mind went blank. and although you nodded along with his apologies and allowed him to wipe the tears from your eyes, you knew there was nothing mark could do to fix it.

you let him think everything was ok. you smile at his jokes and let him cuddle you in his sleep. . even if his hands always found themselves wrapped around your throat.

then, one day, you just. . disappear. block him from everything and register to online classes instead of in person. you stuff his 'borrowed' hoodies and expensive gifts in a garbage bag and leave it in front of his dorm.

you even go as far as to donate all the stuffed animals he gave you.

well. .

almost all.

there is one you specifically like. mostly because debbie was the one who picked it out for you. you always had a soft spot for her.

you still do. so much so that, despite the fact that you want nothing to do with mark - and the fact that you're terrified of him - you find yourself missing her.

so you keep it.

and, sure, you know there's a psychology book somewhere stating it hinders your ability to truly move on. and maybe it's right.

maybe looking at it makes your brain revert back to bittersweet memories of mark and debbie. the way she'd made her home a safe space. you're sure she'd be ashamed to find out of everything mark put you through. but you decide to keep your distance. keep the peace, and all. you couldn't bare telling her why the two of you broke up.

but you still have the text message she sent you.

i'm sorry things didn't work out. you were good for mark. we miss you.

little do you know: the stuffed animal was mark's favorite, too.

but not for the same sappy reason.

& yes, it's because he placed a tiny camera into the cute bear :)

it was a risky move but you were far too predictable. his mother was practically a saint to you. he couldn't imagine you throwing her gift away. after all, what had she ever done to you? thank god for debbie.

now, he doesn't have to be with you to watch you cuddle the stuffed toy. he doesn't have to stand underneath your window to hear you sob into its soft fur. and it's addicting, really, watching you just be in the comfort of your room because you've completely exiled him from your life. and really, who do you think you are? you make him angry enough to hit you and you're the victim?

you didn't know how and when to keep your mouth shut. that's something you should learn. and seeing as how your parent(s) hadn't sat you down and talked to you about it. . mark figured he'd be the one to teach you that lesson.

but you're spoiled.

you're sensitive.

and you obviously don't take kindly to discipline.

and as much as he loves to keep his little secret of watching you on his phone screen. . it kills him to know you won't let him anywhere near you.

but don't forget it: you still belong to him <3 and in any moment that he wants you, he could very easily have you.

one night, with the plushie at the foot of your bed, he watches you squirm. his brows furrow, rolling onto his stomach, getting comfortable as he stares at his phone screen, wondering if you're having a nightmare. the night vision camera captures the way your body moves, every toss and turn. . and then. . every miniscule roll of your hips.

he watches you kick off the blankets and he feels his cock throb in his sweatpants when he sees you aren't wearing any bottoms. . . or underwear. his hands are shaking as he watches you begin to touch yourself. and the sounds you make have him so enraptured that he barely registers when he starts to grind against the bed.

you must feel vulnerable. . watched? . . because you grab the plushie. but you don't just chuck it away. you don't look directly into its eyes and call mark an asshole like he feels you will. no. instead, you hug the stuffed toy to your chest. and even though mark can't see a damn thing anymore - you're covering the camera, fuck - he can hear you perfectly now.

the way your breath hitches and hiccups. your whines, the gasps, the faint whispers he has to strain to listen to. . incoherent whimpers of please and yes, and as he humps his bed. . it's the whisper of his name that throws him over the edge.

a few days later, you receive a message from a strange number with a video attached to it.

in hindsight, you should know better. you've been on the internet long enough to know not everything is meant to be clicked on. but for some reason, you don't think twice to open it.

on the screen, you only see a white light, before you realize it's a flashlight from a phone.

and then a cock comes into view.

you're far too surprised to turn your phone off.

it's so hard it looks painful.

it's thick, thick enough that the fist that comes into view doesn't completely wrap around it. the head an angry red, a drop of pre beading from the tip.

the fist gives a few experimental strokes, then up to the head, where it squeezes, milking, and the drop of precum smudges and dribbles across knuckles. the hand slides down again, and cups the tan, plump, balls at the base.

you hear a groan. and something about it makes you throb. you can't quite put your finger on why. . but you find yourself too transfixed to look away.

you watch as the stranger strokes their cock with growing fervor and the way their hand moves gives you a familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach. there's a small voice in the back of your mind, whispering could it be. your face scrunches up in disgust but you still can't tear your eyes away from your phone screen. nor can you deny the way as your heart picks up speed.

it's only when you hear his voice that your suspicions are confirmed,

"miss you so bad, baby." mark's voice drawls, the breathy words cut off by a groan. "need you here with me again."

you should block him.

you should change your number. your fucking government name and area code if necessary.

you should delete the message, turn off your phone, and be over the whole situation but you don't. his whines and moans arouse you like some sort of fucked up pavlovian response and before you know it, your hands are working along with his.

you'll regret this. the little voice tells you matter-of-factly when you pick up speed the same time he does.

you'll regret this. it hisses when your breath catches in your throat. when your face burns as you close your eyes and work yourself in a frenzy, hips rolling, imagining . . wishing . . mark was there with you, too.

you'll regret this. when you muffle a cry of his name with the palm of your hand when you hear the soft, expletive filled whispers of his orgasm. he sounds so good. so pitiful it reminds you of the first few times the two of you were intimate. times in which mark pretended he was gentle and sweet. when he pretended the hickies he sucked into your neck were purely accidental.

he sounds like your mark.

you'll regret this. this time, the voice sounds tired. like a disappointed friend at their wits end, trying to talk you down from relapsing from an addiction.

the voice goes silent.

obviously tired of you once you save the unknown number into your contacts.

[tonixe]

a/n: Where is the Luke Riordan fanfic?? Like I was shocked cuz where is my sexy flame boy, like come on, you guys are ghosting me with this shit like please more Luke fanfic.

warning: drugs, smut, p in the v, penetrating, protection used, orgasm, hookup implied, protection used, party sex, alcohol mention, some cheating, maybe a rebound (?). *Luke and Cate did break up, so luke baby is alive 💓💗💞.

pairing: Luke Riordan x fem!reader

word counter: 2.2k

Parties weren't my thing, well I would to some of them if my friends asked or were going, but I would be probably just drinking something or on my phone scrolling on my Instagram feed. But, for right now I was dressing up for it, and one of my friends was going. She was pretty popular around campus, she was blonde pretty, with nice brown eyes. Her name was Harper.

I was at my vanity fixing my top, it was a Halloween party. Fixing the top, adjusting the strings, tightening it up. It was a little too tight, looking at the mirror. My bosom was almost spilling out, rubbing my sides. I was thinking of doing some costumes from Legally Blonde. You know when Elle gets tricked into wearing a costume to some party. I was already in the hot pink tights, just missing some bunny ears. I dust some light blush on my cheeks, eyeliner, and some gloss, and put my hair in a half down and half up.

I had some pink high heels in my closet to wear, checking the time it was about 7:50 pm, the party started at 8 and probably would last until the morning hours of 2 or 3 am. I applied some mascara onto my lashes, looking at the mirror and the compact mirror in my hand.

I put my bunny ears on my head, brushed the sides of my hair, and put some red lipstick and some gloss on top. Looking into the mirror, as I tried to pose to be more confident for the party. Harper and I were going to match in some type of way, she was going to be some Playboy costume, so we would have the same bunny aesthetic. Was it too much, I stood up and spun around in my mirror. I didn't want to be a Debbie Downer and change, so I was going to wear it. I walked into my closet, taking out a long pink fluffy jacket to match my outfit, and wearing my heels. Standing a bit taller, it was a lot. I felt some buzzing from my phone, opening it and looking through messages.

Harper: Y/N, I'm at my car right now, you almost done with your costume. - sent

Y/N: Yeah, I'm done, im going to be down in 2 minutes - sent

Harper: Alright - sent

...

I zipped up my jacket, got my dorm keys and my ID into my bag, put it on my shoulder as I opened the door, and walked out. A few people were outside, studying for a bit. I felt a little naked in this costume, crossing my fingers that it wasn't cold outside. I went down the stairs to the Polarity statue, where Harper was sitting in my car, waiting. "Harper!" I yelled, she got off of her phone, and exclaimed back, smiling. "Omg, you actually wore it" She looked at me, "Yeah, It's a little tight but It looks good right," I said

"Of course" She smiled, and to her promise, she was wearing a Playboy costume hers was tighter than mine and revealed more skin, but that was Harper's nature. "Come on, let's go!" She pulled me by my hands and we got into her car and drove off. I was hoping we could get into our dorms without getting into too much trouble. The drive wasn't long, about 20 minutes and we were there at the party. Some sororities house, some red solo cups on the grass, some people already outside making out and whatnot, "Come on, Y/N, don't just stand there" She exclaimed, taking my hand and we walked into the house.

I knew, almost like I predicted it. It smelt like liquor, perfume, sweat, and a bunch of other smells, some people in their costumes, some of the seven, some of Marvel or D.C. superheroes, and others from some horror movies. I turned to my side and Harper was already gone, 'Fuck' I whispered, before walking to some bar in the kitchen and sitting down on the stools. There was a bartender there serving some drinks as people danced away. "Can I get a piña colada?" I asked before the worker left to make the drink, I looked at the dance floor. Bodies rubbed on bodies, it was a scene I guess. Looked like everyone was enjoying themselves except me, but it was just the usual. Hearing the glass on the table, I took it and drank it whole, sitting myself as I listened to my thoughts.

I heard a glass colliding with the wooden counter of the bar and looked to the side to see someone familiar. It would be weird to stare, wouldn't it, but I wore it was someone you knew or saw before.

I tried to peep again but failed to see anything else on the person's face. This was awkward, very awkward. Before I heard the person talk up, "So, what are you doing here?" He asked, looking directly at me.

'Holy Shit' it was Luke, Luke Riordan like the guy who is like the number one. Golden Boy, Golden Boy himself is talking to me, breathing right next to me literally speaking to me. I had a mini fangirl session before I snapped out of it and answered him back, "A friend asked, and I agree, so that's why I'm here" I smiled at him. "Nice costume" my cheek heated up realizing he was looking at me, "I'm Ellie Woods, from legally blonde" I replied, "-And your ghostface, nice" I looked at him, "So..where's your mask?" I tilted my head, "On my belt, just in case" His smile made me have chills down my core.

He looked perfect even in the hot, sweaty environment we were in. I wanted to do something, but I couldn't even do anything. I felt my core getting hotter and my legs getting stickier.

"What's your name?" He asked, "Y/N and I already know you, your Luke right?" I hoped to not sound creepy, that I already knew him. "Yeah, how did you know that?"

"Your really well known, I guess I just picked up on you. You do know your are really easy on the eyes" I tried to flirt with him.

"Hey!" I looked at him, as the bartender came to him, as he ordered something, "Two shots of tequila" Before the bartender poured them out of the clear bottle. As the bartender slid them onto the counter to him, before he offered one to you. "Shots?" He asked, "Hell yeah" I took the shot and gulped it down, as the liquid burned down my throat to my chest, "Fuck that's strong" I heard him groaning out, it made me feel hot. But you knew that you couldn't do it at all, he had a girlfriend.

You weren't an asshole to break up someone's relationship for something petty like a sexual conquest. "Um, why did you really come here to talk to me.." I spoke out, biting my lip. "I thought you were cute" My heart started beating up faster, "Don't you have a girlfriend?" I bit my lip, "Oh, me and Cate..we broke up, she cheated on me with my best friend, pretty shitty isn't it?" He sipped more of the drink, he ordered in his glass cup. "Oh, gosh...I'm so sorry" That was a pretty shitty way to get broken up with, but at least I didn't have the guilt of being a home wrecker.

"I know," He said, rubbing his temples. The scene was awkward, I didn't want to pity him any further, but I was oddly turned on by this. But you didn't want to throw an opportunity away. It would be one in a chance.

"Do you want to feel better, I know a way" I placed his hand on his upper knee, tilting my head, suggestively. I guessed he got the message before I took his hand, and followed me into a random room. I really didn't know my way through the house but I was able to find a free room.

I pushed him onto the bed. I closed the door behind me, before getting on top of him, hooking my hands on his shoulder, and placing my lips on him. I felt his hands on my side, moving lower down to dangerous parts of me. Grinding down on his growing erection, Withdrawing away from the kiss. "Woah" I smiled at his reaction, "How was it" I cocked my head at him, rubbing down at him.

"That was fucking awesome" I pinched his cheek, "Your adorable" I smirk. He rubbed my ass down to my upper thighs. I felt his hands warming up under my tights.

I took my hands off of his shoulder, before losing off the corset that held me in its confined. I felt relief from taking it off, throwing my corset top somewhere else. His eyes darted to my chest, "Like them?" pressing them together, I felt myself getting wetter as he looked at me. Before I felt him flipping me over, feeling my back hitting the bed. My legs crossed each other as I held them up. I turned my head to the side, looking at him, opening my legs.

"Are you hard right now?" I teased, feeling some heart from his hands, melting away my tights. Before I felt him rip them off my legs. The flimsy fabric was ruined, "You ruined them" I faked my sad expression, "I'll replace them" he rubbed the upper parts of my thighs, taking my panties off of me. His hands stretch the lips of cunt, making me moan out. "S-stop, it's embarrassing" I turned my head away from the scene, "Fuck your soaked" He spread me apart, and his fingers slid into me, moaning on impact.

My legs trembling from the intrusion. His fingers curled into me, making me bend back, my hands gripping the sheets, his fingers thrusting into me in a rough motion, "FUCK!" I cried, my chest rising up and down. "Your sensitive, aren't you" He was staring at me, analyzing what I did, making me squeeze down on his finger, making him groan, "Shit, I'm sorry" Before he took his fingers, some clear slick. He licked his fingers clean, I didn't know if this was even real. Luke Riordan literally fingering me and licking my juices. I propped myself on my elbows before looking up at Luke taking off his pants.

His dick leaning onto his stomach, standing up. "Holy Shit" I muttered, it had a red tip and pre-cum leaking out of the tip, and it was bigger than you thought. I felt his hand on my ankle dragging me onto the edge of the bed, spreading my legs apart. "L-luke" I moaned, He had a condom in his hand, taking it out of the golden package, "W-wait, let me put it on" He placed it in my hand. I place it on my lips before taking the shaft and using my mouth to put the condom on.

I leaned back putting my legs up, as he put his hand on my thighs and slid himself into me, I moaned out. His dick abusing my cunt. Tightening against his cock. I heard him groan, The friction made me feel wetter. His hand on my waist, his dick stuffing me full, his hips snapping into me. His hands cupped my chest, playing with them. I felt his mouth on my peaks, making me bend. "Luke" I moaned.

I turned my head to the side, flickering my eyes away from him. My chest heaving, my body is feeling hot, and feeling sticker. I felt his hand roaming on my body, flicking my nipples, making me shiver in pleasure. His hands moved my body to the side, as he lifted my legs onto his shoulder, thrusting into me. Feeling him reaching a deep side of me, I flickered my eyes at him. I felt my abdomen feeling hot and bubbling, tightening against him before he groaned. "Luke..I'm close" I wailed, "Fuck, I'm close too" He rubbed my waist, making me mewl out.

I felt a wave crash down on my body, as I moaned out, gripping down on the sheets. His pace slowed down as he plunged into me, making me twitch. His pelvis collided with mine, as he thrust in, before releasing his load. Before he pulled out of me, before typing it up and throwing away the used condoms.

I was tired and sweaty. I put my hand over my eyes, trying to hide from him. I really didn't realize that it really did happen. Having sex with Luke actually did happen.

Leaning up on your elbows, "You okay" I turned my head at Luke, sitting on the side of the bed. He was still half naked, "Yeah.." I laid back down, "Could I hug you?" He asked, "Um, sure.." I felt the bed dip as he crawled towards me and his arms around my waist, leading to the side of my stomach. It was a little awkward but wholesome, I didn't know what to do but I rubbed his head. It lasted for a few minutes before I closed my eyes and slept off.