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[clarisinne]

i LOOOVE your work (proud patron hehe <3) and characterization of harvey soso much. so i'm not trying to beat a dead horse or smth but...... even if you (hypothetically) only made nsfw from now on... it's not selling out if you enjoy it..? so bc THEY don't like the content, YOU sold out, uh. can we bring back just. not preferring or disliking something instead of immediately beating artists over the head bc you don't like the direction and/or an aspect of their artwork?????? also i can't remember but someone said something about how slow you put stuff out i think??? WHAT THE FUCK that's how you know they're one of those ppl who see artists not as people but as content creator corporate machines who live to serve them. it's so gross i hate it fuck them.

ANYWAY END RANT LOVE YOUR ART LOVE CRINGEFAIL!!! :3

Hi dear <3 thank you so much and THANK YOU for subbing to my Patreon I appreciate it so so much!!!!

I agree with you what can I say! To think that if content doesn't cater to you anymore then the artist is selling out is just wrong lol it's particularly funny to me because.. like, my approach to nsfw is that it's never supposed to gratuitous, it's always supposed to explore their overall dynamic and relationship? I always try to make it feel intimate and wholesome, because that's what makes sense for them

The thing about being slow i think is sortaaa my fault because I used to put out comic updates really fast, like once a day, but I did it because I had a shit ton of parts ready (I think when I started posting I had around 29 tiktoks ready) and I did it so I could grow as quickly as possible to get playlists, but when I was caught up it quickly became draw comic-> post it 10 minutes after it's done so posting everyday became unfeasible :( i do hope one day I will be able to have more comic updates ready but that would require for me to take a break of some sort

[runningupthatvecna]

get the peach(es)

bestfriend!eddie munson x reader

it's the day after chrissy got vecna'd and you and the gang decide to check up on eddie at rick's. he's still in so much distress that you can't help but selflessly stay with your best friend (who you've been harboring a crush on for quite some time) and keep him company. 6k words, not proofread.

cw: the good old friends to lovers trope, eddie is an anxious bean who just needs to be held (by you, ideally), mutual (and not so secret at all) pining, i wrote this with fem!reader in mind (she/her pronouns) but can also be read as gn i guess, fluff, hurt/comfort (for eddie), pet names, mentions of chrissy's death, there shall be kisses and a lot of softness. nothing too explicit but minors are still advised to LEAVE

a/n: totally not self indulgent, that scene of him being so terrified in 4x02 ripped me to shreds so this is my fix-it attempt, trying to still my need to hold him and scratch his head. disclaimer: this piece of writing is based on the ending of that episode, meaning all credits for the setting go to the respective writers. sources to the header images here, here and here. lovely divider by saradika. ok thank you so much for reading byeeee love y'all <3

–––––

The overwhelming need to befriend the satanic metalhead found you at that party at the Wheeler house. You had almost said no to Nancy when she invited you, knowing damn well how the night would end. Steve passed out with a girl on his lap, Robin silently pining after Vickie from some corner of the room while clinging onto the red plastic cup in her hand, Jonathan getting higher than a kite with his old school mates, the younger kids asking you every five minutes if you could give them a ride since you usually were the one staying sober.

Additionally this time, there would be Eddie Munson. This familiar stranger Dustin, Mike and Lucas had met and somehow befriended over the last months, due to them joining his DnD club. "He might come off as a bit intimidating ... but I promise he's super chill and easy going!", Mike had tried to convince his sister, poking the tip of her shoulder repeatedly with a bunch of pleases during lunch break in the editing room of the school's newspaper. Until she rolled her eyes theatrically and agreed to let the ambiguous stranger, which the whole town collectively perceived as not really fitting in (and who you both certainly knew under the not so chill reputation he carried around), attend the celebratory events at Casa Wheeler. Occasion: Karen, Ted and their youngest leaving the house for more than one day, off on vacation.

You'd always kinda stayed out of his ways, used to observe his antics back at school with a silent laugh and this .. intrigue poking at your guts. To you he always stood out, and if anyone asked you'd be hesitant to admit it, but his willingness to go against the flow and not conform to the acceptable standards set by society was honestly impressive. And besides, surely this whole mysterious drug dealer rockstar image must just be a fassade and deep down he's just a dork, right?

His eyes follow you through the living room, an echo of your name crossing his mind repeatedly after having pulled Dustin into a corner for a brief interrogation. He finds it endearing how quickly and almost bashfully you look away every time your curious gaze meets his. As you redirect your focus to the conversation you're becoming engaged in, there's a soft smile creeping onto your lips. Little did he know it would soon start to haunt him in his dreams at night.

"Anything specific you're looking for?"

God, his voice. The close proximity invites your nose to inhale a mix of fresh cigarette smoke, bergamot and sandalwood, allowing you to sense what can only be him standing behind you as you skim through the cabinets of the Wheeler kitchen. You turn your head for your eyes to confirm your assumption and what they find is the deepest brown of round baby cow eyes they've ever met, up so much closer now. The paring of his gaze and plush smile somehow manages to dissolve every little prejudice you've been involuntarily harboring about him. Eddie Munson, the town's freak. Prime reason for the existence of the satanic panic. Drugs. And then you realise that you should probably do the polite thing and give him an answer. "Yeah uh, I was just trying to find the peach syrup", holding his gaze with a small lopsided smile, lost in its warmth which you wouldn't have dared to expect from it, before facing away from him again. He snorts a little, "peach syrup?", pauses to bring a thumb to his upper lip, lightly scratching the skin above as if to wipe something away, before he removes it again and the dimples appear around the corners of his mouth, "that is oddly specific." His response spreads a smile over your face, and the next thing he says widens it, "looks like you have taste though."

You move one step to the side, about to investigate the insides of the next cabinet, the kitchen itself almost empty of people with only three others chatting away in the corner across the island. He follows, undoubtedly trying to stay close, and the heat from the fire he just ignited somewhere inside of you rises to your cheeks. "Thanks, I really like peaches. Especially in my drinks. It adds a little ... kick to my sobriety", you explain, Eddie now quirks an amused eyebrow paired with a lopsided smile at you, and as you get to the last cabinet it dawns on you (and also Eddie) that this household severely lacks peach syrup. An atrocity. Thanks Ted.

After he helped you rummage through the entirety of the kitchen without success but under a lot of small talk, the metalhead vanishes from the function for an hour or so. At least that's what your brain concludes when your vision fails to spot him among the people who are in attendance. Maybe he's selling out of Nancy's bedroom. Maybe he's puking up his insides in the bathroom because he had too much of that weird beer he's been downing all night. Maybe he's banging some random girl in the bathroom upstairs. Or summoning a demon. Or both. At the same time. You once again try focusing your attention back to the conversation you are involved in. Munson already feels so dear to you that the lack of his presence is starting to form an ache in your heart. It's tugging on those strings with how much you already want him near you. Yeah. You're gonna be in trouble with this one.

And then he stumbles into the room from the direction of the front door, an event you're totally unable (and unwilling) to miss. He doesn't look like he just puked, nor sold a whole lot of the stash since you notice it still bulging out the left ass pocket of his black jeans. Instead, as he pushes past the small groups of people socialising – and towards you – while you notice a red net of round fruits dangling from his right hand, and you start to think that his disheveled hair and that rosy tint on his cheeks might actually not be from shagging either. He meets your gaze again as he approaches you with a grin and your heart dares to swell at his attentive gesture (you think you might as well pass away on the spot).

"Have some, peach."

It's not syrup, but you'll take them anyway. And with your next drink, you swallow down not only that peachy sweetness on your tongue, but also whatever this tingly feeling in your chest is.

"Chchhrhch.."

Pause.

"Hey, uh– chrhchhr.."

Silence in your bedroom, the only thing illuminating the space is the moonlight softly falling through the window.

"Chrch– a-are you there?"

You stirr awake from dozing off in your bed, trying to piece together the information your senses are giving you.

Eyes gone dry, you have to blink a few times. Figure out which year it is and so on.

Confusion lies between the static crackle for a moment. That nap after your shift at the diner was necessary. God, you need to fucking quit.

"No I'm sure she'll pick right up, just– hey pleeease b-be awake, goddamn it!–"

Is it already past midnight?

You don't know and you can't tell, the clock on your nightstand still broken. What you do know though is that the familiar voice belongs to your friend Dustin and it's desperately trying to get ahold of you.

They must have found him.

"Dustin? I copy, where are you? What's going on?", you finally grab the device from the nightstand, fully awake and aware of your surroundings now.

You need to know. If he's okay.

There's that all too familiar instant tingle in your chest again, an ache that made itself familiar to you for the first time when he was introduced to you at the one and only Wheeler party several months ago. The dungeon master of Hawkins High's Hellfire club, the lead guitarist of Corroded Coffin and a super chill and easy going guy, to put it in Mike Wheeler's words.

What you didn't expect back then was your heart starting to develop that feeling, that tingle you'd always get to feel when you were in his presence, or like now, when his name is threatening to spill from your friend's lips on the other side of the connection at any moment.

"Aha! See? I told you she'd respond in no time."

You can practically feel Dustin's shit eating grin through the frequency, basking in being correct over Steve Harrington once again. It never gets old between these two.

"Oh my god", Steve's muffled voice is what you can make out vaguely from the off, he's probably palming his face.

"Dustin!", your voice disappears into the device, and your impatience grows with every passing second, hoping he gets the hint.

There's the sound of a door falling shut, leaves rustling under shoes, he must be outside now.

"Alright, okay yeah, so we found him at Rick's and he's really upset and he's been asking for you. I know it's late but can you meet us out here? And maybe, uh, stay with him?"

It's not even worth questioning. You're already wearing shoes. Your biggest hoodie in tow, you stumble into your kitchen with the intention to raid your own snack drawer. Pulling out Eddie's favourite, which you of course had stocked up on ever since hanging out with him at your place had become more of a weekly routine for the both of you.

Ten minutes, you told him. You'd be there in ten.

The drive feels like forever. The longest ten minutes of your life, you think.

You know the route like the back of your hand, having driven along the gravelly road leading from the last intersection before Hawkins' border to the outer world, to the serene woods surrounding Lover's Lake countless times. Eddie would take you here ever so often, for picnics, an occasional smoke after picking up a new delivery from Rick's, cloud or star gazing, listening to Metallica and Tears for Fears on Wayne's old walkman.

The gravel crunches underneath your white reeboks as they land on the ground. You close the door to your car as quietly as possible after you've taken out the bag and your hoodie.

Dustin and Steve are stood outside the boathouse, waving like madmen in the darkness once you come into their periphery.

The younger boy hugs you tightly.

"So glad you could make it", he gets out, the relief palpable through his voice as well as the grip he holds you in for a brief moment.

You look at them both after Steve presses you against him cordially, and breathe out through your nose, making your nostrils flare.

Dustin cracks open the case to you as he starts to ramble about the state in which they found your best friend, "well first he attacked Steve with a broken bottle, we had to put in great effort to convince him that we'd be on his side, and we came to the conclusion that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, basically."

What you want right now goes without saying. Everyone here knows how close you and Eddie are. As friends, of course. No one would think anything different.

Without wasting another second, the boys lead you inside where Max and Robin are knelt on the wooden floor. Heads turning towards the entrance of the room where you're now standing.

The sight of what's offered to your eyes, sitting opposite of them, breaks your heart.

You can see that he's slightly shivering, eyes glassy in the dim lit room. A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips though once his brain grasps your presence, and he can't help anymore but let the water fall once his eyes lock with yours.

The pain that is swimming in those two deep warm brown oceans hits you like a dagger to the chest. Over the months of being friends with him you'd seen him various different states, none of them comparable to this.

"Peach", his shaky voice announces your arrival and the sound of your nickname spilling from his lips cracks through your bones. The bag that's slung around your shoulder drops onto the wood with a dull thud.

Wobbly legs carry him towards you with a gentle shove past Robin and Max. You're once again reminded of your best friend's sheer physical strength as he wraps his arms around you, instantly burying his face into the crook of your neck.

One arm of your own sneaks around his torso, pressing him against you as tightly as your own strength allows you, while your other hand comes up to bury itself underneath the mane and to end up scratching soothingly over the scalp above the nape of his neck.

Eddie lets out a muffled sob, sniffling into the collar of the sweatshirt you threw on in a haste. He doesn't really want anyone to see him like this, certainly not Steve Harrington, so he clutches onto you so tightly that he thinks you might just feel his heavy heart beating anxiously against your chest.

And you do. How could you not with the amount of world he means to you? Like an automatism your other hand rubs slow circles over his back. Comforting him in the best way you could. Not a conscious decision you make.

"Okay so, m'not meaning to ruin the party, in fact I'd love to stay for another round of doom talk, but I really should get home soon, guys", Robin scratches the back of her head after she gets up from her huddled position next to the wooden crate Eddie had been sitting on. Max joins in and agrees, mumbling something about having to move her mom from being passed out on the couch again into her bed.

"Yeah me too, actually. My dad's gonna be fucking pissed. We'll see you tomorrow, yeah?", Steve's voice echoes through the room and you can tell he's already shoved Dustin back outside, itching to drive the kid home.

As Eddie processes having to stay in hiding, added the possibility of everyone leaving without him, his grip on you tightens even more.

"It's okay, Eds", you speak softly, head slightly tilted so your cheek rests on the dark frizzy mop you could call his hair. The skin on his neck and scalp so warm underneath your fingertips as you keep scratching it, emphasizing your presence, "I'll stay."

A soft muffled whimper is what you get as a response, and the way he lets you see him in this state melts your insides to a puddle.

You just need him to be okay.

They wave their goodbyes behind your back, accompanied by mumbles of "see you in the morning", and you can't even bring yourself to turn your head around, fully focused on making the young man in your arms less terrified of the world. A world he was sure was now going to come for him with all its force – in deep conviction of him being responsible for Chrissy's misfortunate end.

The door falls shut and Eddie muffles a quiet thank you into the fabric of your sweatshirt. The skin on your neck is damp with his tears, wet eyelashes tickling every time he blinks.

"It's okay, Eds", you softly keep repeating your words to him while continuously rubbing over the denim of his signature Dio vest in a slow motion, when he feels the urgency to claim the truth into the collar of your sweater about what has happened, "I– I didn't do it, I swear."

As if you would need any convincing.

"Oh no of course you didn't, I know that", you're looking for a way to ease the distress this entire situation is causing him, his quivering voice adding to your desire to soothe him to inner peace, "can I make a suggestion?"

Eddie nods with another sniffle against your collarbone, the round wet tip of his nose brushing against the column of your throat lightly. To his ears, your voice sounds like silk right about now.

"How about we head over to the main house and get ourselves a little more comfortable? Since we're gonna be here for a little longer? My god you probably haven't slept or eaten at all, have you?"

You can feel him nod his head again with a hum this time, and you start to think that the tears might not just be pouring because he just witnessed someone suffer a gruesome death right in front of him, but also due to physical exhaustion.

It makes your heart ache even more, that tingle still present, even more so now. It hurts to see your best friend hurt.

He just needs to be okay. And in that heart of yours there's that little spark of hope that leads you to believe you could be the one helping him with that.

You'd really want that. Be all his to find comfort in, to hold close, to kiss stupid

Stop.

A sigh escapes your lungs at the thought. That tingle, that longing, it's selfish. It familiarly pools in your belly and slowly drips downwards. You push your brain aside. This is about soothing your best friend now.

"C'mon then", you utter softly, encouraging him with your hand to lift his head from where it leans against your shoulder.

For your heart it's almost too much to look at, the hurt still swimming in the glassy big brown irises, his waterline red and puffy. The soft smile returning to his lips causes the wet apples of his cheeks to push up slightly, reflecting the dim light coming from the one torch Robin left you, placed on one of the crates.

He really hadn't been able to close an eye for a single second since he he'd gotten up for school the day prior.

You smile back at him almost bashfully as you slowly create space between your bodies.

Eddie is grateful that it's you who grabs his ringed hand next.

He squeezes yours, hoping to get the message of this meaning something to him across.

And he closely trails behind you as you lead the way.

The house feels empty, like no one's really been here in months. You'd never been inside. The few times you'd accompanied Eddie grabbing stash you'd stayed in his van, waiting. But as far as you now can make out in the darkness, there's a couch with knitted blankets, a little TV with a whole stack of VHS almost rising as high as the screen itself, spilled and spluttered empty cans and papers and wrappings littered all around. Maybe this is why he never let you come inside with him. Keeping you out of this definitely not sterile mess. Along with keeping you out of the business.

In the middle of the living room, you let go of his hand and shuffle one step away from him. He's inside now. Safe. Job done. Doesn't need physical contact. You shouldn't, he's your friend. You feel like something between you would break if you'd go there.

Eddie thinks otherwise, regarding close proximity at least. He promptly follows you into what you believe to be the kitchen where you hope you might find a tea bag or two. He comes up behind you and encases you in his arms as you rummage through the cabinets (feels familiar, hm?), not at all ready to say goodbye to the warmth of your body pressed against his own just yet.

You giggle at the silliness of him putting weight on you just to make it harder for you to reach into the cabinets. It's endearing. And very Eddie.

Twenty minutes later and there's two mugs – cleaned to your best ability – with steaming hot liquid on the sixties wooden coffee table. Next to them a plate filled with the almost equally hot insides of a ravioli in tomato sauce can. Thank Rick for a still functioning microwave.

You drape the knitted blankets over both you and Eddie as you settle into the cushions. The only light existent coming from two lit candles on said coffee table. It wouldn't be too wise setting up the torch you think.

The side of Eddie's face glows in the orange yellow, his wide brown bambi eyes dried after the first grand storm, and there's this tug on the corner of his pink plush lips again. He exchanged his leather jacket for the freshly washed hoodie for comfort and a small part of you hopes he doesn't spill his dinner onto any of it.

You lean back into the backrest of the worn out couch and watch as he eats, a domestic thing you've done a thousand times already, yet you still find comfort in knowing that he's nourishing himself.

Or well, in this case, inhaling the raviolis.

"Thank you Peach", he moves to put the empty plate back on the coffee table and it makes the spoon chink and glide along the edge, "I really needed this."

His voice is a little hoarse, probably from the emotions of the hours behind him. Maybe he has indeed calmed down a little. His hand moves down to your thigh, squeezing.

You give him the most empathetic smile you can bring yourself to display, painfully aware of the blaze that is transpiring through your leggings and seeping into your bones, "it's no big deal, really. I mean it is– uh, being there for you, is."

And he can't bring himself to look up at you. Instead, he stares at the empty plate on that coffee table in front of him.

"And to me as well. It really helps that you're here."

He doesn't bother moving the calloused warmth of his hand from the soft warmth of your thigh. It lights your entire nervous system on fire. In a good way.

And that's when you begin to wonder if everything that has just happened and is still happening right now changes anything.

"I'm so glad it does", is all you're able to get out.

Eddie decides that it's time to lean into your side and wrap his arms around your torso once again, drop his head back to its favourite place with a soft content little hum.

He just needs physical comfort. Of course. Just that. Nothing more, nothing else.

The words are redundant but your mouth articulates them anyway, "try to get some sleep, yeah?"

His back already lifts and falls evenly. You place your hand on the back of his head that rests in the crook of your neck again, scratching through the curls lightly, searching to help him shut off even deeper.

–––––

The candles have gone out by the time your eyelids slowly open. It takes you a moment to recall the location you fell asleep in, and you hope that the nightly darkness the whole room is now filled with hasn't invited any stranger to take advantage of your unconsciousness.

There's a warm hand holding your face, the pad of a thumb tracing over the apple of your cheek softly. It makes its way from the bridge of your nose to the outer corner of your eye, and back. And forth. And back. And forth.

You must have moved to lie down on your back in your sleep, with Eddie's weight still on your body, legs entangled. It's not the first time you've slept like this, there had been movie nights that had ended similarly.

His hand caressing your cheek though, yeah that is new. There's something unspoken in the air this time around. Your stomach is doing flip flops when you realise that he is propped up on his elbow, just .. looking at you. With eyes that don't require light to hint at whatever it is he is trying to say, or maybe not trying at all.

"Eds, what are you doing?", you ask almost in a whisper followed by a lopsided smile, expecting an unserious answer, because he always tends to make a joke whenever he tries to avoid conversing about emotions regarding his heart.

His thumb stops its acrobatics on your cheek, comes to a halt.

"I'm–", he takes a deep breath before he continues, "I'm just so grateful it's you that's here right now."

Your hand comes up to cup his. Brush over his rough knuckles with a thumb of your own. Enjoying the warmth that is seeping from his palm into your skin.

"Yeah, I figured you were gonna be a little opposed to spending the night with Harrington", you laugh, an attempt to turn your nerves into humour.

Eddie snorts a little, "yeah right, it's almost like you know me", he grins and pushes himself even closer to your face than he already is. It doesn't necessarily help in extinguishing the fire that's consuming you whole at this point.

"It's almost like we're best friends and I know what you think of him because every time Dustin or literally anyone else mentions his name around you, you're not necessarily secretive about it."

"Hey, my own worldview is not my fault, it's just– ... he just kinda seems like a douche of the highest order."

"He's quite alright, Eds. Try giving him a chance, I think he'd look great as Coffin's tambourinist."

He snorts again and you feel his breath on the column of your neck next when he dips his head down, nose pressing against the soft skin, his small giggle being swallowed by the collar of your sweatshirt.

Your favourite sound. Ever. Followed by the relieved moan Eddie lets out at the way your other hand is softly rubbing over his shoulder blade. The vibration against your neck makes you twitch as much as being pinned into the couch cushions by his body allows you.

It's soothing as much for you as it is for him.

When he lifts his head, the soft gaze he eyes you with is enough to let the goosebumps erupt. Even in the darkness of the room you can still make out those round buttons that could melt the entire north pole.

"Thank you, Peach, really. I'd be goin' mental right now and probably tryin' to counter that by smoking an equally mental amount of the stash I've been hiding here."

Your heart aches.

"I'm just glad I can be that kind of comfort to you, Eds. You don't have to go through whatever the fuck this is alone."

"I know I'm never gonna be alone as long as you are there."

You almost cry yourself now, his words making your hand travel from his own to his cheek, almost passing out from the way his eyes bore into your own once again.

Eddie isn't sure what it is that is making him feel lightheaded right now. The whole rollercoaster of events of the past hours. Or your words of affirmation. Or mayhaps it is your cute soft hand with that little ring on your thumb which is gently swiping over his damp skin.

That cute soft hand he'd been imagining countless times at night, silently yearning for your eyes to look at him differently, to finally see him in a different light the next time you'd hang out.

Probably a combination of just everything.

You reciprocate his soft half-lidded gaze, hand moving from his cheek to tuck some of his hair behind his left ear, revealing that delicate silver hoop earring you'd gifted to him for his birthday, after having talked your ear off about getting his ear pierced for literal months.

He'd insisted you join him for the appointment, "another metal moment for the books", as Eddie had called it, the need to have his hand held during the stab comically urgent in the way his voice sounded when he called you that day. And in the pace in which he picked you up.

"I'm here no matter what", you respond to his sentiment, that hand that brushed his hair away resting on the side of his neck while leaning the weight of your head into his palm that is still attached to your cheek.

Eddie's confidence reaches a new all time high with the admission of your unconditional support being stirred into the cocktail of hormones and emotions that's been circulating in his bloodstream for a generous amount of time now.

Because then he goes on by saying impossible things.

Impossible things with a slightly less platonic undertone.

"You're so fucking sweet, has anyone ever told you?"

You smile as you shake your head, heat rising to your cheeks once again and you're sure he won't be able to see just how flustered he's getting you (joke's on you he does).

You're also sure he's out of his mind for saying that. Now.

"A shame, honestly. You should scold your best friend for not telling you sooner. Tell him what a fucking idiot he is."

Eddie earns another giggle from you. Music to his ears. Better than Metallica. Okay maybe not but .. pretty fucking close.

"I'll let him know next time I see him", you say with a grin, playing along with pleasure, and you ask yourself why it is only now that you realise just how fucking close his face is to yours.

There is a moment of silence in which Eddie hesitates articulating whatever is seemingly bugging his mind.

"Do you, uh, still like him?"

If you lifted your head just a little your noses would be touching. A silly and utmost redundant question, and yet, Eddie dreads your answer. If the circumstances were different, less dystopian and tragic, you'd seriously wonder what would spark the doubt in your friendship in him, but considering that everyone else would be going to pour their judgement over him, you understand.

Every word exchanged between the two of you at this hour is soaked in mutual infatuation, something the idiots in both of you are slowly starting to fathom as well.

"Of course I do, he's everything to me."

As you say it, you can't help the grin which reappears reliably each time you finish verbalizing your thoughts. It's contagious, you notice.

"And do you think – just hypothetically of course", it's only then he breaks eye contact to clear his throat, "of course", you interrupt him still smiling and cocking an eyebrow at him, "d'ya think it would be okay for this best friend to, uh, maybe...", Eddie pauses, internally watching the ship containing his confidence set sail slowly and ultimately letting the irrational thoughts win for tonight, "would you let him..."

Eddie generally wasn't someone who lacked confidence. It showed in the way he boisterously wandered the halls of Hawkins High, the way his demeanor never changed, his mask never faltered no matter who was around. Except for you. You who he had always granted a look underneath the impulsive, extroverted surface.

"Eds", you try everything in your power to stay calm even though everything inside of you is screaming right now and you're certain you can feel your pulse in your earlobes.

"Would it be just insane of that best friend to kiss you right now?"

You want to squeal and kick your feet, pull him into your face, pinch your own forearm, pass away, leave the house and never return, and stay right where you are forever, buried underneath your favourite metalhead, the parts where your bodies are touching practically on fire, cosy and content.

Instead, the most fond smile spreads over your lips as you try to contain your internal overwhelm.

It's still dark, the only light source being the full moon outside. Eddie's so hopeful of your reciprocation and even more terrified of ruining his entire life at the same time, those deep doe eyes at this point pretty much resemble the shape of the space rock orbiting earth. Rejection from you, his pretty Peach and the Bonnie to his Clyde, would be unbearable.

"I think so," you almost whisper, the hand that's been rubbing over Eddie's back coming up to lightly trace one of his eyebrows with your index finger because you just can't seem to not touch him in some way, "but you should know that I love his insanity."

Your small giggle is being silenced by a soft and cautious kiss from Eddie Munson. Like he doesn't want to break you. Or he's afraid you'll snap out of a haze, slap him and leave if he starts kissing you like he really wants to.

And then it's you who goes for it, you feel at home, right where you belong, you don't think you've ever felt this good. The hand on his jaw tugs him closer softly, pressing your lips to his with a bit more urgency.

It gives him all the confirmation he could possibly need.

That tingle, it grows and fills up your chest and shoots through your entire being, goosebumps and all. Eddie moans and breathes against your lips, tongue dancing over the thin skin, asking for permission.

His ringed hand digs deeper and slowly moves to the nape of your neck, intending to hold you in place, afraid you could slip away from him if he didn't. This blossoming thing between you could slip away from him. If he didn't.

It's so soft, the way his lips touch yours, and before you know it they move to your cheek, to your jaw, down your neck before Eddie comes up again, smiling from ear to ear, to gently bump his nose against the tip of yours and his lips return home with a soft and deep hum escaping from his lungs into your mouth.

Relief floods his veins along with whatever it is you're doing to him. The ability to shut out the insanity of the past hours is what he so desperately wants to cling to for as long as you allow him, even if the dawn will remind him of the horrid reality he's involuntarily become subject to live through now.

"You're making things so much better, Peach, you're so sweet, so fucking cute, so fucking good for me, do you even know for how long I've been dreaming of this?"

Eddie greedily pulls your face into his again, not even giving you a chance to reply and not nearly getting enough of your affection it seems with how fervently his tongue searches for yours.

A gentle collision of skin.

The soft whimpers you let out only spur him on. You not backing away from him, staying with him, letting him be this close to you?

You, the only constant source of consolation Eddie's ever really had.

Life changing.

Soft touches follow soft touches, your thumb traces his jaw repeatedly.

"You don't–", kiss, "for how long–", kiss, "I've been dreaming–", kiss, "of you as well", you breathe against him and Eddie thinks he might be about to resort to sniffling into your collar again with the amount of relief he is experiencing.

You'd let him.

"Yeah?", he presses his nose into your cheek with his eyes closed, smiling from ear to ear, relaxing his entire body into yours as you let him slide inbetween your legs.

"Yeah, you know how much of a sucker I am for peaches", you grin, another peck to his cheek, his jaw, his neck, your hips slowly finding a rhythm against his own.

Eddie groans at your allusion with a wide grin on his face (and the feeling of your warmth against his dick), before pressing his lips against yours again lovingly, "me too baby, me too."

–––

taglist (thought you might be interested): @josephfakingquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @analogkraken, @wroteclassicaly, @songforeddiemunson, @joejoequinnquinn, @somnambulic-thing, @trashmouth-richie, @eddddiemunson, @ceriseheaven, @userchai

comments, reblogs and other forms of affection towards the author are greatly appreciated thank youuuuu <3

[boygirlctommy]

i love the bit from oct 17 2020 when tommy and quackity trapped wilbur in a cobblestone box to keep him from pressing the button... wilbur punching through the blocks with his bare hand to try to get to the button... tommy frantically replacing the block in front of him yelling for quackity to do something... the moment when tommy stops, blocks the exit, and tells wilbur to do it. press the button. but then theyd die with him. quackitys like "wait, wait-" but tommy holds his ground and wilbur. ohh wilbur. "why'd you have to make it so hard?"

[sollucets]

— evening sun, jane kenyon

as long as he lives one day, I'll live that day with him.

[4sh-n4]

Scenario for a Batman Identity Reveal™-

Takes place before Batman has revealed his identity. The rest of the JL know each other's identities, except Batman's. They've just received news of a threat against Bruce Wayne.

Maybe a rogue or an intergalactic enemy or someone has found out that Bruce Wayne funds a majority of the League and thinks that killing him will severely weaken it. Fair enough, I mean it's easier to kill a civilian known to be an idiot as compared to the greatest heroes, right?

So now obviously the JL feel obligated to protect him. They don't particularly want to do it, and usually they'd just set up police protection, but everyone knows how corrupt Gotham police are, and Wayne is being targeted bc of them. They'd ask Batman, but he only comes out at night and has publicly expressed disdain for Bruce. So they've got to do it themselves.

They take it in shifts, and while Wayne seems very welcoming on the outside, it's a little obvious that he doesn't want them poking around his house. In addition, the first night they were on shift, Batman gave them a very strict warning about what is and isn't allowed in his city. He tried to get them to leave, but they overruled him.

At first, Bruce spends all his time acting like an air headed idiot, flirting with everyone that tries to talk to him and refusing to cooperate bc he doesn't believe the threat. 'Coincidently', he's always in the room every time one of them try to talk to talk to any of his children.

Then as time passes, he lets his guard down. They start to see a gentle, kind, Bruce Wayne whose children are his entire world, not token trophies. He speaks in a soft voice, one made out of cotton and clouds. He cares about the underprivileged in Gotham and genuinely works to make life better for them. He's smart and actually involved in his company. He's also incredibly slippery and tries very very hard to lose their tail at all times. The only reason they can keep up with him at all is because most of them have special powers.

One day, while they're trying to look for him after he's lost them yet again, he gets kidnapped. The entire JL rushes to find him and rescue him before the person they've come to honestly respect and enjoy the company of gets murdered for trying to help them. They search for and reach the place he's being held after 2 days, only to find him tying up the criminals- who definitely all have broken bones- surrounded by the horde of younger Gotham vigilantes.

He turns to look at them and growls, "You're late. Civilian rescue time needs to be much shorter, these people weren't even experienced kidnappers. You're lucky it was me they were after otherwise you'd have found a corpse. We're running drills back at the watchtower."

They're all shocked because... that's Batman's voice?? Coming from the richest man alive, known playboy, not so known gentle father, BRUCE WAYNE??? BATMAN HASN'T EVEN BEEN OFF DUTY SINCE THEY BECAME BRUCE BODYGUARDS????

Turns out his children all ganged up on him and forced him to reveal his identity, especially since the JL had become friends with him both inside and outside the mask.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

It's the 6 month anniversary of this blog! Check out these cool bugs I found.

(EDIT: Check out this amazing fanart by thecornermushroom!)

Part 2 - Part 3

[suusoh]

would be funny, if Nina had a gf, and due to Johan's tendency to see him and nina as the same, he'd drop by casually, disguised or not, while nina is away. What's wrong? Nina is him and he's Nina! There's no complications with kissing him! You're basically kissing his sister! (Eaten ask)

your brain anon...........like EXACTLY. exactly. God this is sooo hot and weird which is johan's brand. He is karl marxing the fuck out of his sister's girlfriend. What do you mean "meet my girlfriend"? You mean meet OUR girlfriend. right? (tw: nonconsensual kissing, yandere)

Could you imagine bidding your girlfriend, Nina, goodbye after she spent the whole evening at your place? You whine and beg her to stay longer, clinging onto her, but she rolls her eyes playfully and insists she has to go.

She gives you a loving parting kiss on your lips, then plants even more– on your nose, cheeks, and finally your forehead– before she reluctantly pulls away. Any more, she jests, and she won’t be able to leave.

"You know I hate leaving you like this," she laughs softly. "But don't worry, I'll make up for today once my exams are over. Okay?"

She gives you one last final kiss before finally leaving, waving at you as she walks down the street.

You sigh and close the door, already missing her.

You really love Nina, but sometimes it feels like she doesn’t have much time for you. You understand she has her exams, a part-time job, and aikido training, which doesn’t really leave much left for you. Still, you can’t help but feel a bit greedy, wishing she’d at least dedicate a part of her to you. You're her girlfriend, after all.

You sigh one last time. No use.

She’s already spread too thin, and you know if you tell her your concern, she’ll worry and try to double her efforts to make time for you. No way in hell are you going to give her any more stress in her life. Although today was just half a day together, you're grateful. Even if it left you unbelievably craving, aching for more…

You hear a soft knock on your door. Is it Nina? Did she forget something? Oh, your prayers have been answered. You just wanted one more second with her. You open the door immediately, an excited smile on your face.

"What did you forget this ti-"

"Missing me already?"

You freeze, standing dumbfounded. In front of you is not, in fact, your girlfriend, but a tall, blonde man smiling softly at you.

"I'm… I'm sorry. I don't— Do I know you?" you ask, trying to stay cool. He must have the wrong house to ask something like that so proudly. You’ve never met him before.

His smile doesn’t falter at your question. He continues looking at you, his eye contact unwavering.

"You do." he answers, calmly leaving no explanation, still smiling softly.

You’re getting nervous. He keeps staring and smiling at you. You try to get a good look at him. Is he a mutual friend? An old classmate? A person you pissed off once? You’re at a blank. Though… the more you look at him, the more you notice how similar he looks to… to your… what the hell.

Why does he... look... a bit like Nina?

No. You chalk it off. He just has blonde hair and blue eyes, and the fact you’re missing your girlfriend terribly doesn’t help. But even then, their facial features strike a matching resemblance. It’s a bit uncanny.

You let out a nervous laugh and smile sheepishly at him. "Look, I’m really racking my brain here. Have we met before? I’m really sorry if I can’t recall…"

You give him his cue to introduce himself, to remind you who he is, to be offended at you forgetting—anything! He’s just standing there, staring down with that same smile. Your eyes dart around, seeing if this is a prank. A small uneasy pit forms in your stomach.

A beat passes by. You still wait for his reply.

You can't help but start feeling creeped out. Stupid. Always ask who’s there before opening the door. Just ask him what he wants with you and get it out of the way.

"Hey uh, I-"

He kisses you, his lips softly crashing against yours, hands gently cradling the back of your neck. He’s not forceful, but his hold is steady. You squirm and try to break free, but he quickly shushes you and holds you closer, entrapping your lips in another long kiss.

You think of quickly think of biting him, but he gently pulls away right before you can go through with the thought. His hands come up to tenderly cup your face, his thumb softly brushing against your cheek as he looks at you.

Your vision begins to blur from your tears, your legs wobbling from the fear of the situation.

"I don't know you!" you practically scream out. Your desperation kicks in as you continue to panic. "P-Please. please. please. I'm sorry. I don't know you. I don't… I don't… please… I-."

You cry softly, pleading with him. He just continues cradling your face in his hands, looking at you with that godawful eerie smile. He leans back in, slowly murmuring,

"Shh…"

He continues peppering kisses all over your wet cheeks. "You do know me," he whispers, kissing your nose. "And you know I need to make it up to you," he says, kissing your forehead. He hums softly and leaves another final chaste kiss on your lips.

"And you know I hate leaving you like this."

[highabovethecloudssomewhere]

EMERGENCY COMMISSIONS

I hate doing this, I really wanted to save my commissions for a time in my life after I’d improved the quality of my art to a higher standard but my car is. um. Doing that thing cars do where they cost more than they’re worth. Trying to balance feeding my family and maintaining my ability to work.

Please reach out if you have any questions or if you’d like to see more samples of my work (messy line art + flat color, loose sketches, etc). At the moment I can only accept payments through Venmo and CashApp. Half the price of the commission will be paid up front, with the other half paid upon completion of the piece. I can’t accept NSFW and lack the skillset to draw furry/anthro.

I will draw fandom content and would love to draw your OCs.

If by some chance y’all want to commission a piece of writing instead (or even alongside of), I’d negotiate a price on that as well.

Even if you aren’t able to/don’t want to commission me, thanks for reading this far. I’m sorry to do this but I appreciate your time immensely.

[jaggededges123]

a little bit of tridentariicest for @dmsr-art 🥰

“I can still eat you, like this, look—as many times as you want, baby.”

“Ianthe, not funny,” Corona wails, piteously, but she doesn’t even try to stop you as your bloodstained hands tug at her white trousers with the golden trim—you leave the royal purple jacket, for now. “You have his eyes, and you could have had mine!”

“Who cares about Babs,” you soothe, taking in the buttery-golden curls that appear as you pull her trousers and underwear off one leg over her boot, leaving it hanging as you settle between her thick, gorgeous thighs. “Don’t mention him, dear—you need to stay with me, and not as a myriad-long battery.”

You reach out with your fingers, which feel like they are buzzing with the energy of a thousand thanergic stars, and you touch her, sliding your fingers gently down her slit. She spreads her legs wider for you, obliging and sweet even as she cries. She’s wet.

Of course she’s wet, she’s her and you’re you. Even in her upset, there was really no other outcome.

“Sister,” she cries, and again your heart half-breaks because if only she was capable of understanding. You usually understand each other, when she is capable of it, but her brain is not on the same level as yours. This would be easier if it were. “I can’t believe you. We could have been—forever—”

“Shhhh,” you hush. “I need you, darling Corona. Don’t mention it again.”

And you dive in as she gives a pathetic “Is that even true?” that gets cut through with a moan, because she really cannot help it.

You know every inch of her juicy pussy, each out-of-the-way sensitive spot, and the motions she likes a partner to take with their tongue. You knew it first before anyone else, and you still know it best. No one can ever take that away from you—you will always know your older twin sister better than anyone else, love her more than anyone else, do what it takes to keep her more than anyone else.

As you lap at with her with your tongue, making circles around that flushed, pretty clit and pressing your nose into her pubic hair, you take two fingers soaked in his blood and press them inside her. She hiccups loudly, and her hand comes to grip at your limp pale strands of hair, which is more than encouraging. It’s working.

You crook your fingers and worry them along the front wall of her channel, and you take her clit to task with the point of your tongue. You consider, for a moment, adjusting the shape of that fleshy protrusion of your mouth moment by moment to show her how focused you are on her pleasure and how skillful a genius you are. It used to be a little hard, doing that—it wouldn’t be hard for you now, the marvel you are.

“Ianthe! Oh, I need you!” she shrieks, her hand gripping in your hair so hard that you can feel some of the follicles letting go—and immediately repairing themselves.

She comes too fast in the end, to make changing the shape of your tongue worth it—a slut for your mouth or your fingers or whatever else you use on her, that’s what she is. You know the moment she falls apart because you can thanergically sense her heartbeat stutter and then race, the cry of her every muscle. It makes you throb deep in your core, hotter than you’ve ever felt in your life.

Her purple-clothed chest starts heaving as she squeezes down on your fingers and trembles on your tongue, and you’re confident for a second that you’ve successfully distracted her from whatever silly romantic fantasies she’s concocted that mask the grim reality and terrible awesomeness of the Lyctoral process. Perhaps she understands now, in that dim, pretty head of hers, that if you were to take her then you wouldn’t have her anymore.

But then an even more hysterical sob breaks on her lips, not quite the sexy kind, and you know that she may never understand it.

You sigh.

[motof1bfs]

Who's the saint, and who's the sinner?

[hypogryffin]

thank you!!!!!!!

[trashcanwithsprinkles]

I'm turning jg over in my brain. So much. It's so good. Your talent at laying down plot threads and then creating long-arching follow throughs is genuinely second-to-none. I've been born in the correct generation I swear.

Related to that though: what's your writing process like?? Your plots are so interconnected and complex, how does planning for that work? Also, you write so quickly?? It's so cool?? How?? I'm flabbergasted?? My flappers are gasted.

Anyway I love you very much. Please take of yourself and have a great day

i uh- wouldn't know how to explain it lmao i just write. i guess the good memory certainly helps w keeping things in order? i do also have like- a notes document. sometimes it hasn't been a document, sometimes it was just the bottom of the fic back when i used google docs where i'd keep notes on plotpoints i wanted to happen and some things i needed to keep in mind. literally just an annotations bit

actually come to think of it cyanide only had like- a single paragraph of annotations. which is fucking wild given the size of jadeite's annotations? but the problem with jadeite is that i learned my lesson from cyanide in that i always fucking- lose count of how many days have passed in-story??? so i've started doing a day counter, which is somewhat working as a skeleton for the story even tho it's- not really much,, probably another reason why jadeite's annotation page is so long is bc it's somehow more convoluted than cyanide, plot wise. like i know cyanide was convoluted af but at the end of the day there was only a couple of things to keep track of. like it was only one plotline, three if you want to argue (you wouldn't be wrong), but only one main one all the time. not with jadeite lmao there's like 10 plotlines going on simultaneously in this beast

(the fact that i switched to another writing program that lets me make tabs per work may have enabled me to keep a dedicated anotations page that i can just have handy. that's also probably why)

also i don't think itysg had an annotations page. i uh- wrote that straight through beginning to end like a maniac w little to no backtracking

not sure if i'm actually answering the ask w this LMAO i think it helps to keep like- i always write w the ao3 fic open on a different tab, sometimes in 'entire work' and sometimes per chapter, when i want to back-check some stuff,, ctrl+f saves lives.

as for the actual plot- god i'm sorry it's just cause and effect for me. idk how to explain it. to me it's like you're asking me why 2+2=4. A happens so B happens so C happens. A wants this so they do B and that causes C to do D. genuinely at a loss for how to answer this my bad hahah;;,

as for the speed- i'm just a fast writer and my brain has never known peace

[linkedin-offficial]

For you warrior cats au,,, can we have a fluffy kitty Kaufmo 🥺🥺🥺

im gonna start by saying THANK YOU for sending this bcus i hadnt even thought about kaufmo OR queenie while making those designs .. so heres both of them‼️ just for you, anon ;3

[muzzlemouths]

I know am a random follower but I hope you are doing ok. We can do this together even if everything is bad right now.

YOU'RE SO RIGHT ANON. YOU'RE SO RIGHT. WE CAN DO THIS TOGETHER.

[gomzdrawfr]

Talofa! I don't know if your inbox are open. But I'm curious about your OC Raven and Jelly! (They are so CUTE by the way! LOVE THEM!) If you don't want to answer it then it's okay!

I know their relationships with their soulmates (Raven with Price and Jelly with Ghost) but I want to know of their relationships with the OTHER members.

Like their relationships with Laswell, Nikolai, Gaz, Soap, Rudy- EVERYONE!

And by the way, LOVE your art style! SO ADORABLE!

Greetings!! thank you for the ask :D I'll try my best to explain them because I...I have not considered most of the characters KAJSHDKAJ so I hope you don't mind some of the more meh ish responses, if I didn't list down the characters, that means they have not met them! (dividers by @/cafekitsune)

The characters are arranged in descending order of closeness :3

Let's start with Jelly

Fish [OC]

((this is still in progress and development but)) Fish is my medic OC. He's like a brother figure to Jelly, had babysat her during childhood until teenage years. Their bond deepened when they reunited at the base where Fish worked, often met up and hang out in his office yapping about her latest hyperfixations, ships and anime.

Simon Ghost Riley

Jelly first got to know Ghost by inspecting his weapons. She was impressed by how perfectly maintained they were so she didn't think too much of his reputations and rumours. But the moment she met him she thought he was here to take her out LOL xD she can’t believe they ended up together to this day.

Eira Raven Liu [OC]

Raven saved Jelly's life without Jelly's knowledge (for reasons yet to be discussed), pulled the right strings here and there, vouched for her skills and landed her a spot as a weapon specialist + tech unit for the team. Jelly sort of sees Raven like her senior (calling her "senpai") and elder sister kind of vibe.

Kate Laswell

is terrified but thankful for her because of the whole "don't fk with me" vibe Kate has, but eventually realized how supportive she could be and got along well. Kate’s even invited her over for dinner a few times with her wife, which still blows Jelly’s mind :3

John Price

Jelly admires Price for being, well—John motherflipping Price. But let’s be real what she really can’t get over is him and Raven as a couple LMAO she’s their #1 fangirl and is not subtle about it, wrote a few fanfictions inspired by their dynamic too HAHA

Kyle Gaz Garrick

Partner for field setups and troubleshooting, they're pretty chill cause of how Gaz is able to share jokes with her.

John Soap Mactavish

Wondered if Ghost and him are-was a thing, is not bothered by it if they were (it's not like she already have a few google doc opened writing about two characters inspired by Ghost and Soap-)

Soap calls her Jellybean sometimes, I think they're chill too.

Alejandro Vargas

Flustered around Alejandro because she thinks he's drop dead gorgeous, has a hard time forming complete sentences whenever he’s nearby (yes, Ghost is silently jealous about it)

Rodolfo Parra

Intimated by Rudy sometimes but likes his cooking, also fangirls over Alejandro and Rudy.

König

accidentally mistaken König for Ghost -> is embarrassed and mortified about it -> surprisingly bonded well over niche topics

and for Raven, she's knows almost all the COD characters given her background and access to information, though she chose not to meet some of them. Note, these aren't arrange based on closeness since it's hard to show it, just more like people she has been involved with some comments xD

John Price

I could go on and on and on about them but I'll keep it simple. Currently, Price is Raven's fiancé, they've build their relationship from shaky grounds with many many downs and mistakes, but she'll take a bullet for him anytime. They've reached a point of codependency at this point I guess.

Kate Laswell

As someone who has history with intelligence work, she's cautious with CIA agents. It rubbed her the wrong way when Kate managed to dig up fragments of Raven's past, things she'd rather buried it six feet underground. I guess she felt intrusive about it even though she expected something like to happen. Despite this though, Raven doesn't hate Kate, she respects her for what she does. She prefers to keep Kate at arm's length, their relationship is civil but Raven tends to keep it professional.

Kyle Gaz Garrick

Gaz was the first to know about Raven from Price, and was there during her treatment of her back injury, so they're sort of solid buddies then.

Jelly [OC]

Raven has always struggled to express her affection for Jelly, not out of lack of feeling, but because she’s never been one to show her emotions easily. There’s something about Jelly that pulls at Raven in a way no one else ever has. Raven sees a reflection of herself in Jelly—someone who had the brains and abilities that would've surpasses her if it wasn't for the mission that severely wounded Jelly's nerves. It’s a side of herself Raven doesn’t often recognize in others. As such, she is extremely protective of Jelly. Let's just say the conversation with Ghost was uhhh....intense? xD (knives were involved and a clear message was sent)

Raven: really? him? Jelly- Jelly: He's uh....he's nice!!! Raven: *long sigh*

Simon Ghost Riley

Rocky af start, neither of them trust each other. Ghost didn't like the fact that Price is tying himself to someone with blacked-out background (as if he isn't "mysterious and dangerous" himself). Ngl, they kinda chill off with Price as the bridge between them. Surprise surprise, they would take the bullet for each other """""for the sake of Price"""""" (they’d never admit it out loud, and they certainly wouldn’t acknowledge that they actually care for one another)

Farah Karim and Hadir Karim

Raven’s time in Urzikstan with her PMC meant she was aware of Farah’s retaliation efforts, was there to witness the Captive mission whilst on watch duty for Lieutenant Price. Raven respects Farah’s resilience but doesn’t align with her ideologies—especially the decisions Farah makes regarding missiles in MW3. As for Hadir, Raven sees him as a wildcard, someone driven by emotion rather than strategy (in her eyes anyways), so she's kinda meh about the siblings.

Vladimir Makarov

Raven’s had dealings with Makarov in the past, thanks to Viktor (Raven's step-dad who owns the PMC Cobra) assigning her to handle transactions involving him. She's...well she was intrigued with Makarov’s unpredictable nature and considers him dangerous—not just to others, but to anyone who gets caught up in his plans. Though she doesn't agree whatever the hell he was doing afterwards.

John Soap Mactavish

Raven and Soap are…fine(?) There’s no bad blood between them, but there’s also no real bond. They’re more colleagues than friends. Raven respects Soap for being part of Price’s world, but their connection is more about Price than anything else (basically witnessed the real effect of Soap's supposedly death in MW3 on Price)

Nikolai

Raven knows Nikolai through Chimera. They’ve crossed paths during missions, though she doesn't know if he recognizes her. Their relationship is more functional than personal. Still, she recognizes him as someone who’s good to have on your side (has seen the uh...has seen Nikolai's "working" mode)

bonus: Raven from the Metropolitan Police Service (I think he's SAS too - ah you know the dude who told off Gaz??)

Gaz told Raven Liu about this Raven, laughed about it, dug up his history and went "you did not just compared me with this guy"

[cathodic-clairvoyant]

Oh hi there transfem discussing her experience in the trans community i just had a quick question about your post

What does tme mean?

Oh okay i see i understand, thank you.

What does transmisogyny mean?

Ah I see, I get it.

What's a trans woman?

Oof scary. One last question.

What's a woman?

Thank you for being my own personal google (not like you had anything better to do right?) and derailing the point of your post for my own personal education. I will now add nothing of value to this post in return. Bye bye!