#hi there's my rant. condensed

[ranticore]

Not to stoke the flames, but I'd love to hear your extended take on FR's issues (as a fellow formerly actively player) if that isn't too much of a problem- I've been feeling the same about the site these days but you'd probably word it far more eloquently :(

Gene bloat on the marketplace, scryer, and auction house is an obvious response but really I hate the blatant cashgrab of it all. For any customisation of an ancient breed at all, you will need a skin or accent. I would hazard a guess and say that skin blueprints are the biggest driver of gem sales on the site. But all skins are user generated content - ergo all real currency that people sink into customising their dragons is going to staff and not the artists of the skins. it's pushing staff's inability to draw apparel (in the DRAGON DRESS UP GAME) onto the users and making profit from it. Last year there were something like 3 ancient releases. They push them through in huge volume, creating more issues with bloat, while the new real dragon breed is likely not going to arrive until 2030 if ever because they make more money from ancients.

Also the designs of many are lazy and not nearly as out there as we were led to believe. The newest ones are just... regular dragons, as are sandsurges etc. Overall I find that there's an evident lack of real planning at flight rising dot com, and staff just kinda making shit up as they go.

[wellzofyouth]

That one post of my mine predictably aged like fine wine. Never let somebody on comic twitter in the writer's room😭😭😭 Like imagine a 1 to 1 adaptation of literally any event?? -1b at the box office. "Who are these people???"

[fingertipsmp3]

Getting back into journalling does sometimes feel like I’ve given myself homework I cannot lie

[trashbatistrash]

,

[a-ikuoliver]

tw: sfw, childhood best friends, mutual pining, w/c: 0.6k notes: uh I was slapped in the face with this scene so here u go; I wuv domestic bakugou, idc how bad this is it was haunting me

the tips of bakugou's hair droop ever so slightly at the moisture in the air, the blond growing darker in the steam. he adjusts himself in the bathtub, getting as comfortable as he can in the empty porcelain tub in front of your shower, the discomfort of the hardness against him the last thing on his mind as he listened to you talk, unconcerned by discomfort, or the steam settling on him, the feeling of his clothes sticking in the humidity. you're animated, he can see even that through the steam, the way your hands wave about wildly, one at your face as you scrubbed it, the other gesturing passionately behind the glass.

you swipe the condensation from the frosted glass in front of your eyes, "you know?!"

you’re incredulous, your brows down in a scowl as you gossip about someone he probably doesn’t even know the name of. he hums his agreement, content listening to you rant and rave all about the most recent news in your life, and watching your blurred silhouette.

“okay, close your eyes, im gonna get my towel.” your voice is light, not a trace of apprehension, this habit like second nature to you now. bakugou obeys, grunting when you’re safe to climb out of the shower.

he can feel you near him, the heat and steam radiating off of your skin, the clean scent of your soap entering his nostrils, clouding his head more than the steam. you're close enough to brush your wet skin against his, the softness of your towel fluttering against his forearm when you wrap it around yourself.

“hey, are you home this weekend? the old lady keeps asking about you.” he doesn’t care he interrupts your story of the latest episode you watched. hearing your lips part and close, his ears prick, waiting for your gentle hum to reach his ears.

“depends, what are you going to make me for dinner?” you sit down at the edge of the bathtub, reaching to poke his face, one cherry red eye cracking open, then the other. he’s met with your smiling face, a strike of adoration hitting him in the heart at your pretty features, as damp as his from the steam, a droplet running down the side of your throat to the top of your towel tucked into itself at your chest.

“whatever you want me to make.” his voice is softer than he wants it to be, his adam’s apple nervously bobbing in his throat, his mouth dryer than it had ever been with you this close, he’s had you closer; pulled into tight hugs when you were 5, closer again at 9 when you wrestled with him in the mud, his heart starting to race at 15 when his parents made him shuffle ‘closer, katsuki, you guys are friends,’ when you graduated lower secondary school together. every moment since then turning out like this, his eyes darting back and forth between yours, the air shifting the longer you stared at each other, his chest about to touch yours when you respond, your breath fanning over his cheeks at your proximity, “yeah, i’ll be there.”

he deludes himself for a moment, thinking you sound as nervous as he does, thinking your pupils dilate ever-so-slightly the longer you stare at each other, thinking maybe your lips pucker when your gaze falls, when you lean a touch closer, years of tension about to break between you both.

"i'll get out of your way." you clear your throat and stand back up, water still dripping from your body, katsuki jumping back like he was electrocuted by your sudden movement, muttering an agreement, a foreign anxiety settling in his stomach even as he sheds his shirt; sparing one last glance before you latch the door, katsuki catches your wide eyes once more and wonders if they mirror the adoration in his.

[stillfoodforguys]

I’d been letting my friend Nick live rent-free in my house for a few months now. There weren’t any major issues at first, but his endless snacking habit has become difficult to deal with lately.

Nick regularly clears out my fridge just because he feels like it, which has lead to him putting on so much weight that none of his clothes fit anymore. And since he can’t afford to buy any, he just lounges around with his fat belly exposed. Rather than being ashamed, he seems to find it amusing to jiggle around play with, even when I’m in the room with him.

Since Nick didn’t care about how he dressed, I had the confidence one night to chill out beside him in just my underwear. As it got closer to our usual dinner time, he started ranting about how he wanted a decent meal. “I need something major, dude. It has to really fill me up, something big and… meaty… and, um…” His words began to trail off, interrupted by him licking his lips as his gaze wandered across my mostly naked body.

Nick knew exactly what he needed in that moment, suddenly reaching over to grab my ankles and slather my feet in saliva before swallowing them. The amount of drool that came pouring from his mouth was ridiculous, the warm liquid trickling down my thighs and soaking my boxers as he devoured my legs with ease. His gluttony was far stronger than my ability to fight back, my weak struggles doing nothing to stop him from quickly swallowing up to my waist.

I tried to prise open Nick’s mouth, but his lips were so moist that my hands slipped straight past them, causing my arms to get pinned against my sides. He could have taken his time after restraining me this way, but he was far too desperate to satisfy his hunger. Instead, he forced me through his gullet even faster by shoving down on both my shoulders. His tongue smothered me as it curled around my face, coaxing my head inside his warm, wet mouth. With a final big gulp I was sealed away, wrapped up tightly beneath the thick layer of padding around his swollen belly.

Even after eating me, the fat fucker still wasn’t satisfied. Nick cracked open a can of condensed milk and guzzled down the viscous liquid, filling up whatever space was left inside his stomach. I squirmed in reaction to the sharp contrast between the cold milk and hot digestive juices I was already covered in. Not that it bothered him; he only cared about adding more calories to his meal, for his ultimate pleasure was knowing his meal would be as fattening as possible.

[nova-amor]

𓈒∘☁︎ ◜ 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 ◞

𝐜𝐰 — 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐛𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐫!𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐩𝐞𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 [𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.], 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥 [𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫], 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 — 𝟏.𝟖𝐤

"what the fuck was that?" choso hisses through gritted teeth, pinning you to the farthest corner of the bar. his hands are on either side of your head, palms pressed hard to the wooden walls behind you. "what the hell do you think you're doin'?"

you're clutching a brown beer bottle close to your chest, the cool condensation dampening the fabric of the black crop top you're wearing. choso is seething— golden eyes narrowed down at you, cheeks reddened with anger, muscles tensed; he looks like his head is about to implode and you’re loving every second of it. like the good person you are, you fight back a smirk, bucking your hips into choso's front, your legs intertwining with his. and, you’re just loving every second of this moment.

"what?" you tease, your eyes glimmering with a sense of mischief that doesn't go unnoticed by the man. "they play really good music here on the weekends, can't help that i want to dance to it."

"you were dancin', huh? so shaking your ass against a complete stranger in front of me is dancin' to you?" choso is on the verge of exploding, his knuckles growing white beneath the fabric of his motorcycle gloves. 

choso fought to restrain himself from going over and punching the man that you had been entertaining just seconds before, he knew better than to get into a bar fight on his own. even if he knew he could take on multiple men at the same time.

"you like pissin' me off, baby? like makin' me jealous so that i can take my anger out on you later?" choso ranted, his eyes darkening as he lifted his hands off the wall. his strong arms wrapped around your waist, pressing your body tightly to his. you could feel his erection poking at your pelvis, straining against the tight fabric of his black jeans. "do you know how crazy you make me? i hate it when you act like a little slut in public, fuckin' hate it."

you tilt your head back to meet choso's gaze, one of your hands resting at the top of his shoulder blade. the pad of his motorcycle jacket is rough against the soft palm of your hand, well-crafted and hardy material designed to protect him from asphalt burns and other injuries. you loved seeing choso in all of his gear, the full blacked-out outfit making your pussy clench whenever he rode to meet you somewhere.

"we're just friends, choso," you whisper to him, voice heavy with desperation for him to claim you. you two had spent months running circles around one another, unable to put a solid title on the relationship you had regardless of the true feelings you held for one another. "there's no reason for you to be jealous when i'm not your girl."

choso rolls his eyes, pulling away from you like you were acid-burning his skin. he gnaws on his bottom lip, a habit he always did whenever he was deep in thought. and, before you could get a grasp on his actions, choso snatched the bottle of beer from your hand and gulped down the rest of it, tossing it into the bin next to you when he was done.

with a low "we’re leaving", choso snatches your wrist with his large hand, the rough padding of his gloves digging into your bare skin as he drags you out of the bar. the two of you earn confused and irritated gazes as he shoves through the crowd on the dance floor, pushing past everyone with long strides and little regard for those around him.

"choso, what the fuck!" you snap at him as soon as the two of you are out of the door, his hand finally releasing you as he stalks over to his motorcycle. it's an all-black yamaha r7, matching his riding attire with hints of silver along the handles and mirrors. "where the fuck are we going, choso?"

he snaps his head over at you, throwing his long leg over the bike with ease. he's glaring at you, his mouth curved down with a sneer yet he holds his helmet out to you, silently commanding you to get on the bike.

"home," he says, his voice low and gravely. he tilts the bike upright with the support of his strong legs, the motorcycle roaring to life, the smell of its exhaust filling the open air. "you wanna be my girl, right? so get on the fuckin' bike and i'll show you how to be."

without a single moment of hesitation, you throw the helmet on, the foam pads squishing your cheeks. with the help of the footpeg, you climb onto the back of the bike, wrapping your arms tightly around choso's waist like the many times you had done before. his hand pats your interlocked hands as a warning before he revs the bike, peeling away into the night.

"choso," you call out as he strolls into his apartment, the garage door lowering behind you. he completely ignores you, abandoning you in the garage, the door slamming shut behind him. "can you wait for a damn second!"

you hook the helmet onto the footpeg, making sure it’s secure before following after choso. he shrugs off his motorcycle jacket, tossing it onto the kitchen countertop before removing his gloves.

"what the hell is your problem?" you snap at him, crossing your arms over your puffed-out chest. you're beyond frustrated with him and his silence. you wanted to fight him, knock some sense into him with the way he's treating you.

with long strides across the kitchen floor, choso picks you up by your waist, biceps flexing as he easily plops you down to sit on the edge of the kitchen counter. he stands between your legs, glaring down his nose at you.

"you're my fuckin' problem," he growls, dipping his head down to your neck. his kisses are hot, open-mouthed, and wet— sucking and biting at the delicate column of your neck. "talkin' about wanting to be my girl and then slutting yourself out whenever we go out," he sucks at the sensitive point underneath your ear. "you've always been my girl, baby; thought i made that clear when i started bouncin' ya on my cock months ago."

your head rolls back, brows furrowed as you arch your neck further to the side, allowing choso to stake his claim on your skin through bites and hickies. your brain is reduced to mush as he drags the flat of his tongue from the crook of your neck and up to the hinge of your jaw. your fingers lacing themselves into his hair, tugging and pulling at the silky strands, earning a hiss from deep within his throat.

"never gonna share you; no one gets to use you the way i do," choso bites at your neck before pulling away, his black pupils blown out as he peers down at you. his lips are bruised, cheeks flushed from abusing your skin to his liking. you can only imagine the bite marks and bruises that decorate your neck. "no one knows your body like i do; doesn't know how to make you moan, and beg, and turn you into a messy puddle that can barely form a sentence."

your clit throbs against the cloth of your panties, your underwear soaked thoroughly with your arousal. choso never really spoke during sex, rarely spoke in general, yet whenever he did, it was either to say a joke or command authority over your friend group whenever they got a little too rambunctious. the switch in his behavior caught you off-guard, but you weren't one to ever complain. you liked it when he took charge.

"no one knows how much you like it when your nipples are pinched," he tugs your crop top up, prying your breasts from the confines of your bra, spilling them out into his warm hands. he tugs and rolls the sensitive buds between his fingers, a series of moans bubbling from your lips. "such pretty fuckin’ tits, baby, fuckk," he mumbles, admiring the view.

"no one knows how wet you get when i play with them, bitin' and suckin' on them 'til their bruised and puffy," he dips his head down to capture one of your nipples between his teeth, sinking his pearly whites into the soft flesh. a cry rips through you when he pulls at your nipple, harder and harder until he lets go with a ‘pop’. "bet you're fuckin' soaking already, baby. let me pull these jeans down and see,"

you shuffle atop the countertop while choso helps to pull your pants down, the cool surface causing a shiver to run down your spine as your bare ass cheeks make connect with it. 

"i was right, huh? got niagara falls forming in your panties, baby," choso kneels to the ground, inhaling the musky scent of your arousal through the soiled cloth. his nose nudges against your clit, tongue teasing at your entrance, soaking your panties further with his saliva. "no one could make you get this wet but me, ain't that right, baby?"

"yesyesyes—" you're breathless, too far gone to form a proper thought. your hands grip choso's hair, the only support tethering you to the earth. "fuck, cho, please need your mouth— need ya t’ fuck me with your tongue— needs it s’ bad—"

choso chuckles, standing up to press a sloppy kiss to your lips. his tongue invades your mouth, the pink muscle scouring every crevice and cementing his claim all over it. he tugs your panties down to your thighs, rubbing your clit around his index and middle fingers before dipping a single digit into your wet heat. he slips into the tight ring with a grunt, poking and prodding against the tight clench of your walls grasping at his finger.

"so fuckin' tight, lemme hear them pretty moans," he slips another finger deep inside of you, scissoring and hooking them into your gummy walls. "wanna hear how needy you get f'me."

choso strokes at every inch of your cunt, pulling moan and moan out from you with little effort. you're putty in the palm of his hand, allowing him to mold you around to his liking. his nose is pressed to your neck, peppering kisses and bites along the path, drenching your skin with his saliva. 

"remind me who fuckin’ own this pretty pussy, baby," he curls his finger into your spot, your thighs trembling as your walls squeeze harder around him. you could feel peak coming along, so close and just barely out of reach. "tell me what i want to hear and i'll let you cum, can feel your pretty little walls clinging to me— i know you’re fuckin’ close."

your eyes flutter shut, mouth agape as choso’s name leaves your lips like a prayer. "i'm your's, i'm your girl," you moan, choso chuckling at how fucked out you sound, so pathetic and desperate for release. "no one else's, cho, you own this pussy, was made for you and only you."

"that's my good girl," choso purrs, slipping another finger deep inside you. the stretch is sweet, your hips bucking to chase after the sweet release he had promised you. "cum on my fingers, baby, cum for me."

your release hits you like a freight train, gushing all over his hand and pooling on the countertop below you. choso chuckles as your cunt milks his fingers, grasping and clinging to him as your body quivers against him. you swore you caught a glimpse of heaven.

"that’s my good girl," choso retracts his fingers from inside of you, your body feeling so empty with the absence of his touch. he presses his fingertips to your lips, your tongue poking out to lap at his fingers, humming at the taste of yourself. "that's it, baby, be my good girl. clean my fingers up and i'll give ya some cock as a reward, okay?"

[propheticclown]

As much as I love Homestuck and praise it for the character writing. I have to say... (TW: rant) (Spoilers for Homestuck Act 5 Act 2 and beyond) FUCK YOU HUSSIE WHAT THE FUCK WAS THIS FOR YOU PIECE OF SHIT HE DID NOT DESERVE THAT YOU MOTHERFUCKER

NEVER IN MY LIFE HAVE I EVER SEEN A CHARACTER WITH SUCH AMAZING POTENTIAL GET WIPED AWAY SIMPLY BECAUSE YOU CONSIDERED HIM A "JOKE CHARACTER" WHAT THE FUUUUUUCK!?!??!!??!??! DO YOU UNDERSTAND THE LIMITLESS CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT POTENTIAL EQUIUS HAD YOU HALF-BAKED OVER SEASONED FUCK OF AN AUTHOR?!!?!?!? DO YOU EVEN HAVE THE COGNITIVE ABILITY TO UNDERSTAND HOW GREATLY YOU FUMBLED THIS BAG!?!?!?!? DOES YOUR KITCHEN SHELF-LEVEL IQ EVEN COMPREHEND THE MISTAKE YOU MADE WHEN YOU DECIDED TO DO THIS?!?!!? EQUIUS' STORY COULD'VE BEEN FUCKING AWESOME!!! DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW INTERESTING HE WAS!?!?!? HE COULD'VE LEARNED THAT THE HEMOSPECTRUM IS BULL AND FULLY APPRECIATED THE PEOPLE AROUND HIM?!!?!!? HE EVEN COULD'VE BEEN ANOTHER POTENTIALLY INCREDIBLE VOID PLAYER!!! ESPECIALLY CONSIDERING HE'S A FUCKING HEIR OF VOID!!! "HOW DOES HE INHERIT VOID?!?!?! GREAT QUESTION!!! TOO BAD YOU'LL NEVER FIND OUT BECAUSE HE ONLY HAS TWO BIG PARTS OF THE STORY AND ONE OF THEM IS HIS LITERAL FUCKING DEATH!!!" I COULD EXCUSE IT IF IT GAVE WAY FOR SOME CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT BUT GUESS FUCKING WHAT?! YOU FUMBLED THE BAG TWICE!!!

BECAUSE YOU KILLED THE ONE PERSON THAT WOULD'VE ACTIVALLY BEEN AFFECTED BY EQUIUS' DEATH YOU UTTER NINCOMPOOP!!! IT'S LIKE YOU GOT POSSESSED BY A FUCKING TROGLODYTE THE SECOND YOU STARTED WRITING THIS PART!!! NEPETA COULD'VE GONE THROUGH A SERIOUSLY AMAZING ARC ABOUT EQUIUS' DEATH AND WHAT IT MEANS TO BE A ROUGE OF HEART!!! IT WAS RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU AND YOU MUST HAVE WORSE EYESIGHT THAN I DO BECAUSE YOU COULDN'T SEE IT!!! AND YOU KNOW WHAT'S FUCKING CRAZIER?!?!?! THE THIRD AND FINAL FUMBLE!!!

YOU GAVE JOHN THE ABILITY TO LITERALLY BRING PEOPLE BACK FROM THE DEAD!!! AND YOU ONLY BROUGHT BACK VRISKA?!?!?!??! THE ONLY TROLL THAT ACTIVALLY HAS BEEN SHOWN TO BE A PROBLEM?!?!?! YOU DIDN'T BRING BACK FEFERI, EVEN THOUGH A STRIFE BETWEEN HER AND THE CONDENSE WOULD'VE BEEN PERFECT!!! YOU DIDN'T BRING BACK ERIDAN, EVEN THOUGH IT WAS FORSHADOWED THAT HE WAS GOING TO DEFEAT LORD ENGLISH, AS WELL AS HAVE BE MOIRAILS WITH KARKAT AND MATESPRITS WITH ROXY!!! YOU DIDN'T BRING BACK TAVROS, EVEN THOUGH HALF OF GAMZEE'S PROBLEMS WOULDN'T EVEN EXIST AND IT WOULD'VE MADE FOR A GREAT CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT FOR BOTH OF THEM!!! AND YOU DIDN'T BRING BACK THE TWO CHARACTERS WHO WOULD'VE HAD SOME OF THE BEST POTENTIAL DEVELOPMENT IN THE ENTIRE SERIES, EQUIUS AND NEPETA!!!! AAHGHGHGH!!! ACT 6 WAS SUCH A GIANT BALL DROP ON EVERYTHING YOU SET UP FOR THE TROLLS!!! SO MUCH NOTHING HAPPENED!!! IT'S LIKE YOU ONLY CARE ABOUT VRISKA, WHICH IS PROBABLY THE CASE CONSIDERING YOUR SELF-INSERT TRIES TO GET WITH HER MULTIPLE TIMES, EVEN THOUGH SHE WAS DEAD AND LITERALLY FUCKING 13 YEARS OLD?!!?!?! I HAVE NEVER IN MY LIFE BEEN THIS LIVID OVER SOMETHING SO GLARINGLY OBVIOUS!!! IT'S LIKE YOU'RE BEING WILLINGLY OBTUSE!!! UUUUUGHGHGHUGHHGG!!!!!!! I SWEAR STUFF LIKE THIS MAKES ME FEEL LIKE A LIGHT PLAYER!!!

[enkas-illusion]

One of Your Guys

One of Your Guys - Part 1/3

Fandom / Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen / Choso x f!reader

Rating: NSFW/Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Content Warning: Fluff, kissing, language, hurt/comfort, slight make out

Chapter Summary: You rant to your friend Choso about your crush and things take an unexpected turn when he confesses something that catches you off guard.

Author's Note: Hello, this is my first attempt at a short story. All characters are in their mid 20s. This is a pure cheesy, sappy, in-your-feelings vibe condensed into a 3-part story. If you enjoy it, feel free to like, reblog or comment; I’d love to know your thoughts. Thank you for reading! 

~ Eren's Birdie

Song Dedication: One Of Your Girls by Troye Sivan

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

“I really hate to be that person but… I told you so.” 

You look at your friend with narrowed eyes, fighting the urge to roll them at him. If you knew you were in for a talking-to when you called Choso over to rant about the shit-show that you call your love life, you would’ve reconsidered it.

His face shows no sympathy for his poor heartbroken friend as he leans against your kitchen counter with his hands crossed at his chest. And rightly so, why would he anyway? Afterall, he’d told you to confess your feelings to your crush before it was too late and now here you are, admitting that ‘too late’ had arrived sooner than you’d expected.

“I know but I was scared of ruining our friendship, okay?” You sigh as your shoulders slump down. He simply shrugs at you as he walks towards the microwave when it beeps. His back is turned to you and a few seconds pass as you observe him following the usual routine.

You wonder whether making hot chocolate can be fixed into one's muscle memory. In that moment, you believe it might as well be the case for Choso as he takes the hot milk out, pulling the spoon out of the drawer while simultaneously grabbing the cocoa container from the shelf above him.

You want to laugh at how ridiculous it all seems. It’s not just the ritual of making hot chocolate, but the ranting sessions along with it that have turned into a daily occurance. How many times have you made your poor friend listen to you crib about your unrequited, unnoticed love for your best friend, Satoru?

In your defence, Choso was the one who’d initially annoyed you to death to get the info out of you. The genius that he is, Choso had figured out that you liked Satoru based on the way you interacted with the latter at a common friend’s house party. If someone were to ask Choso, he would tell them that your eyes would quite literally turn into heart shapes whenever Satoru talked to you.

“I’m sure you’d understand how I’m feeling if you were in my shoes.” you add as he stirs the spoon in the mug. He stills for a split second before continuing the movement. 

“Chosoooo say somethin-” you trail off when he turns around to look at you as if he’s fed up with your bullshit.

He walks towards you and hands you one of the mugs before making his way to the living room. You mutter a small ‘thank you’ as you follow behind him. When you’re settled on the sofa, you sit with your legs folded on the seat to face him as he leans back on the opposite end.

As he takes a few sips of his hot chocolate, he can see your brain working overtime to come up with a summary to explain all that you’re currently feeling. He almost finds your struggle to speak up adorable, when usually you always have 10 things to say and then some more.

“Fine, tell me exactly what he said.” Choso breaks the silence to give you an opening.

Your eyes soften with relief at his statement as you take a sip from your mug, “So… yesterday Satoru had invited me to a common friend’s house party but I had declined since I wanted to sleep the weekend away. And when I woke up in the morning, I opened Instagram to scroll a bit as usual and saw Satoru had added to his close friends’ story. I figured it’d be the usual party snaps… I was already feeling the fomo of not going so I clicked on it right away… and what do you know??? THE FIRST FUCKING PHOTO is of this pretty girl on his lap and he’s kissing her cheek. I swear it felt like my heart had dropped to my stomach.” you pause to take a few sips.

“Wait so based on a single snap, you assumed he’s dating her?” Choso frowns, visibly confused.

“No, of course not! Since Satoru often does get touchy like that with me as well, I did not want to assume so I replied to the story. I said something on the lines of ‘congrats on getting the girl big man, don’t forget about me though ahahaha.’”

This time you pause to observe Choso’s expressions and he’s visibly cringing hard. “Don’t say it… I’m aware how pathetic it is.” you pout as you fidget with a thread that’s sticking out of the sofa pillow. 

Choso swats your hand away to stop your fidgeting before he gently squeezes one of your feet with his free hand that isn’t holding his mug. “Poor baby,” he teases as he rubs circles over your skin, “Go on, I promise I won’t tease you.”

“Well, he read that within seconds and I got a call from him. He sounded a bit reserved at first as he broke the news to me… apparently, they’d been talking to each other for about a month… I had no idea,” you take a deep breath as it pains you to say the next sentence, “Last night, Satoru kissed her and confessed his feelings. Turns out she feels the same way for him so now they’re together. I said congratulations and cut the call… he sounded so happy.”

You turn your face to avoid Choso’s gaze, trying hard not to let the tears slip from your eyes. He moves closer to you as he places both of your mugs on the coffee table. He pulls you by your wrists, guiding your arms around his waist as his own wrap around your shoulders. As your face rests on his chest, you start sobbing silently.

“Shhh, it’s okay, it’ll pass.” he tries to console you, brushing his fingers through your hair.

“What if I don’t want it to pass? I should be happy that the man I consider to be my best friend has found such a perfect girl for himself, but here I am, wishing it were me instead. Am I a bad friend for feeling that way?” you look up at him, still teary eyed.

“No, you’re not a bad friend. Your emotions are all over the place because something unexpected has happened. You weren’t anticipating this so you’re hurt and it’s okay to feel sad. You’re here crying in front of me instead of trying to sabotage his relationship or whatever… that is proof enough that you’d rather deal with the hurt than hurt other people.” you sigh as you listen to your friend’s soothing words. 

You rest your head on his shoulder as you close your eyes. Choso rubs your back gently before adding, “You’d only be a bad friend if you refuse to wipe your tears and snot off my t-shirt later. I’m not even kidding, I want this shit washed with that soft fabric conditioner you have, all crisp and ironed to perfection!”

You slap him where your hands were resting on his lower back, causing him to let out a tiny wail. It causes you to laugh for the first time after having been sad all day long.

Choso moves away, breaking the hug to create some space between as he hands your not-so-hot chocolate back to you. His knuckles rub your cheek to wipe the wet trail that had been left behind by your tears. He opens the palm of his hand to rest it against your cheek gently.

“I know you may not feel like it now, but you’re going to be fine.” he smiles as he reassures you.

You place your hand on top of his as you lean further into his touch, finding it a little too comforting. In an attempt to take the focus away from your problems, you ask him, “Have you ever liked someone who didn’t like you back?”

“Hmm…you.” he nods. You smack his hand away as you sit up straight.

“Choso! Be serious! You never tell me anything about your love life! You’re always joking around.” you complain.

“That’s because there’s nothing there to tell! I tell you about all the other aspects of my life cause they’re much more entertaining than my love life.” he answers with a tone of sincerity. You pout, not convinced.

He rolls his eyes at your persistence and adds, “Well what do you want to hear about? Would you rather have me talk about all the Tinder dates I fuck and never see again?”

You scrunch your face at the crudeness of his words, “Nope.”

“My point exactly… anyway do you want to watch something?” he asks as he grabs the remote. You nod as you both gulp down the remaining of your drinks. You get up and take the mugs to the kitchen to wash them while Choso scrolls away on Netflix.

When you return to sit next to him, his arm grabs your waist to pull you in closer to cuddle as he presses play. You rest your head on his shoulder as it begins. When you realise what he’s playing, you tilt your head up to look at him. “Really? Bridgerton?”

“Yeah… and season 2 cause it’s the better one. We literally have the whole evening to binge” he states, unprovoked by your almost condescending tone. You decide not to tease him about it. 

Before you realise it, hours pass by and you’ve binged half of the show. As the characters were introduced, Choso filled you in on the details and it almost felt like you hadn’t missed season 1 at all. There was additional unnecessary commentary that came along with his explanation of plot points, but you weren’t complaining.

Spending time with your friend like this, where the heartache you felt this morning seemed dull in comparison to laughing at his lame jokes, is exactly what you needed to relax. You let the chatter in your brain melt away and instead focus your awareness on the present moment – a task that had almost felt impossible before you’d asked Choso to come over in the afternoon. 

Cuddling so close to him, you notice the smell of his perfume is a lot stronger. You breathe in his scent, a smoky wooden smell with just a tiny hint of something sweet to it. It’s a distinctly familiar scent you’ve grown accustomed to ever since the two of you began cuddling together during your frequent movie nights. The dynamic you shared with Choso was similar to your relationship with Satoru, minus the romantic feelings you had for the latter. 

Choso’s right arm rested around your waist while the other rubbed lazy circles on your knee, whereas your right hand was resting on his chest with your torso leaning into his side. And while there was an unspoken agreement that even cuddling with Choso was platonic; your flatmate, Mia, was certain that it was only a matter of time before something would happen between the two of you.

You’re grateful she’s not at home for the weekend to tease you about tonight. If she saw the two of you right now, the teasing you’d have to endure would be insufferable. You smile to yourself when you think about it.

When you get to the scene where Anthony goes feral over Kate’s scent, you joke about how you feel the same way about Choso’s perfume.

“You like my perfume?” he asks, surprised, making sure he heard you right.

“Always have.” you admit, “I know it’s oud, but what’s the sweet floral scent with it?”

“Jasmine.”

“Oh… I like it. It’s perfect, not too sweet, not too harsh.” you say, trying not to be too obvious as you try to sniff at his t-shirt. Before you get a chance to do so, he leans back and shifts his torso to lean in closer to your neck instead. 

“Are you wearing any right now? I never really noticed your scent.” he speaks softly and you can feel his breath on the side of your neck. You pull back instantly, feeling flustered and hot. You blink a few times before you shake your head side to side. He chuckles as he goes back to his original position, his focus shifting back to the TV. 

Is he seriously oblivious to how close you two just were or does it simply not faze him at all? 

You mentally slap yourself for misinterpreting his seemingly innocent actions. He leans back comfortably with one hand on top of the headrest and you shift back into his embrace. A few minutes pass before his hand behind you moves closer to caress your neck, you feel goosebumps rise on your lower spine as you move away from his touch.

“What?” he asks, confused.

Either this man is an idiot, or he’s fucking with you to rile you up. 

He pauses the show to hear what you have to say. “Don’t do that. It feels… ticklish.” you choose your words wisely. 

“Well, it wasn’t my intent- aww, are you ticklish?” he inquires mischievously as he raises an eyebrow. Before you can answer, he grabs one of your feet as he roughly yanks it, making your back fall flat on the sofa. You let out a shriek as he moves on top of you and cages you between his arms, ready to tickle you. 

You start yelling at him to stop, laughing hysterically as he tickles you. You try pushing him away but fail to do so as his muscular figure leans even closer to yours. You have tears in your eyes from laughing and after a while, you’re basically begging him to stop.

When he finally stops, he looks at you with a smug smile of victory on his face as your laughter slowly dies down. There’s a moment of silence when your eyes meet and you get a strange feeling in your stomach. Maybe butterflies, but possibly anxiety for what your instinct tells you is about to happen.

You notice Choso’s gaze move down to your lips and you mimic him. He involuntarily licks his lips as your breath hitches in your chest. He lowers his head till your faces are just inches away from each other and he gently nudges your nose with his. 

His left hand moves up to the side of your neck and he caresses your jaw with his thumb. You lift your head up at the same time when he leans down and your lips meet. His lips feel plump and wet as you close your eyes. 

Who kissed who first? You wonder but all of your thoughts keep getting lost before they have a chance to rise to the surface. The only thing occupying your mind is the way his lips feel on yours, your skin burning where he’s touching you.

His right hand grips your hip to push it down further into the cushions of the sofa. His hand on your neck moves down to your throat as he chokes you slightly, as if to test the waters. He smiles into the kiss when he hears you moan.

He takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. The way his tongue moves has you entranced. His movements feel languid, yet they contain enough force to convey an intense passion. 

Your hands move of their own accord as they make their way to hug his shoulders. He breaks the kiss as his lips leave a trail of quick pecks down your neck. Your head tilts back to give him better access. He sucks on the spot just below your ear and your palms bundle up his t-shirt, creasing the fabric. 

You moan louder than you’d intended to when he bites the spot and his fingers dig into the meat of your thigh. You feel the heat rise to your cheeks as he licks a strip up along the front of your neck. He hooks your leg that he’s holding around his lower back and presses his hips down to grind against yours.

“Fuck… Choso-,” you say, out of breath. You can feel how hard he is through his sweatpants. He lifts his head up and his hair is all messed up, the smaller strands have escaped the bounds of his hair tie and frame his face in a way you can only describe as delicious. He kisses you on the mouth once again and you have to close your eyes shut to regain your composure. 

As much as you don’t want him to stop, you know better than to let the situation escalate even further. Your hands move to his chest and you firmly place them there but don’t push him away. 

Fuck. About time you tell him to stop.

You move your head to the side as you try speaking softly, “Chos-”, but he grabs your face to turn it back to him and bites your lower lip, continuing the kiss. You’re pretty sure he can feel your wetness as he grinds his hips, pressing against you. You groan at how good it feels.

You kiss him back, pulling him impossibly closer by his t-shirt. He pulls your bottom lip with his teeth again before releasing it. “Fuck… baby, you feel so good,” he groans as his hand pulls your t-shirt down and his face moves to your collarbone to leave another hickey. 

“Ahhh… Choso, please,” you moan at his touch. He comes back up again as he stares down at your neck, proud of the light mark he knows is going to turn dark purple later. He kisses you on the lips once again.

Before your desire wins over the rational part of your brain, you press your hands firmly to his chest. He leans back a bit as he understands what you mean. He reluctantly moves away from your face but his hands still hold you in place. His eyes look hazy and full of lust. By the way he looks at you, you’re certain yours don’t look any different either.

So much for not wanting to fuck up another friendship.

“We can’t...” you mumble, but clear your throat to speak up clearly, “Choso, we can’t do this.”

“Why not?” he retorts softly, his thumb moving across your bottom lip. You sigh as you grab his wrist to remove his hand. He moves his hand through his hair to push back the stray strands as he sits back up to create space between you two.

For a split-second, you find yourself missing his warmth before you sit up straight to look at him. You envelop his hand into yours and you hold it like that as he waits for you to speak up.

“This feels strange… I don’t want to make you feel as if I’m just using your body to get over Satoru. It already feels like I’m gonna lose him as my best friend, I don’t want to lose you too…” you trail off as you lower your head with shame. 

“What if I didn't mind you using me to get over your stupid crush?” he replies. It was the last thing you’d expected him to say. Your eyes widen in surprise as you look up at him.

“I think it’s pretty evident that I have a thing for you,” he continues as he looks down at his crotch. Your eyes follow his and you can see the imprint of his hard on over his sweatpants. You look away quickly, not wanting to ogle at the sight.

“It’s just your dick talking…” you almost whisper, not wanting him to hear your accusatory tone. He pulls his hand out of your grasp before running his fingers through his hair once again in frustration. 

You know you hit a nerve when he groans slightly as he speaks up, “Far from it… I’ve liked you for a while now. But you’re so blinded by your crush for that blue-eyed snowflake fuck that you can’t see anyone else. Least someone who can treat you far better than he does. Anyone can tell that you have a crush on him… Satoru knows, your eyes tell, he just conveniently ignores it. I’m not sure why you’re so crazy over him but it hurts me more than I'd like to admit when all you care about is Satoru this, Satoru that. Fuck Satoru! What the fuck is it going to take for you to finally see me?”

You’re speechless. Your brain feels like it has stopped computing altogether. 

What the fuck?

Even if you want to say something, you fall short of the right words. Your lips part to speak but close again. Choso notices this and his jaw tightens. He mumbles a ‘be right back’ as he gets up abruptly and makes his way towards the washroom. 

You’re still sitting in your place when he returns after a few minutes. The edge of his hairline is wet but he’s dried his face. As if washing his face had washed away his agitated state of mind, he looks more composed now.

“Choso..” you get up quickly and walk to him.

“It’s getting late, I better leave. I’m sorry.” he interrupts you. He turns away from you and walks towards the apartment door. You follow behind him quickly as you call out his name again. He knows how much you hate leaving things hanging in a limbo till the next meeting.

He turns around and cups your face with both his hands. They’re cold now. His eyes meet yours as he speaks, “It’s okay… I shouldn’t have sprung that on you like that. You’re going through your own shit. I shouldn’t add more onto it.”

He smiles and leans down to kiss your forehead. You try speaking up but he interrupts you once again. He does not want to give you an opening. He wants to leave things in a limbo tonight. He wants to remember the way your lips felt and not let it be overshadowed by your rejection that came after.

“We’re okay,” he presses and you know he’s not going to listen to you tonight. “Goodnight.”

You put your hands on top of his to hold them in place when you sense him pulling them away. He moves them away regardless and instead squeezes both of your hands. His touch feels so different from how it was just a few minutes ago and you want to cry.

You can’t help but feel as if you’ve ruined your friendship and you feel him slipping away. Maybe you’re being a bit dramatic but he’s being so formal and indifferent that it almost makes you feel sick.

“Hey,” he stops your train of thought, “I’ll see you later, okay?”

No, please stay. You want to say but you don’t dare to. You can’t… not with everything that just happened.

“Goodnight.” you force a smile at him and he squeezes your hands once more before leaving.

You stand there, staring at your closed door for a good few minutes before you turn the TV off completely and retire to your bedroom. Every single scenario and all the endless outcomes play in your head but above everything else, Choso’s confession of his feelings for you plays in your head on loop like a broken record.

You’re still unsure of how you feel about it as you fall asleep an hour later, still thinking about him. You hope in desperation that come morning, you’ll be wiser at deciphering the mess of your emotions a bit better.

MDNI banner: @benkeibear

[plexiglasssheets]

Scout and Spydad

anyways father son bonding with very brief EngineerxSpy and Engiedad

pardon my shit grammar

-------

Like in Expiration Date/the comics Spy will let Scout tag along or help him with much reluctance, But as time goes on he does see the *potential* in him to make him a more refined man. One day going to sit in the common room to catch up on his French programs. That for some reason the signal doesn't reach his smoking room, he even asked Engineer to somehow fix the transmission, but the best he could do was the common area TV which was better than nothing. He put on one of his cheaper suits to sit on the musty couch, and hopefully, he prays just to catch up on his dramas without anyone annoying him. Then comes a sweaty scout who was probably outside with Pyro doing something stupid. He comes and sits on the couch realizing it's in French decides to read his comic. Spy just wants him to leave so he can watch his shows. But the kid was being quiet so it was better than nothing.

This became routine, the spy would come to watch his show, and Scout would come in at around the same time, sometimes from his runs, or one of his drives into town with Sniper and Pyro. But like clockwork, he would always be there. Having his comic books or sketch pad tucked under the couch just in case. Spy had gotten used to the company, while he drank his wine and Scout his soda. He just so happens to have a coaster at the ready for the water condensation his sugary beverage.

Scout had also slowly gotten into the shows himself, he knew French and was a bit rusty. But their weekly watchings got him back into it. The two would rant about the direction of the shows, think trashy reality TV, and bachelor-type stuff. How ‘he should have picked her, as they would have worked far better together’. Or ‘this is so rigged, she should have won.’ But they’re saying this all in French so when anyone else tries to come in they just hear the two in what they assume is a yelling match, though far from it.

Engineer decided maybe he should try to get it on Spy’s personal TV, to stop the fighting. So one afternoon as Spy is exiting his smoking room , Engie goes to him and tells him he can get it on his personal TV. But the Spy says he doesn’t want him to go through all that hassle, he's fine with the common room TV. Engineer confused, accepts it and goes back to his workshop, coming into the common room later to see what would make him want to stay. Then it clicked, as much as those two like to pretend to hate each other, they really didn’t. They weren’t best friends but they at least tolerated each other.

Scratch that, they did heavily dislike each other is how engineer would put it. When Spy would come later in the evenings to chat with spy, he’d go on and on about how’ he could civilize that boy’ and ‘if he had the time had be a fine general man’. Or could go down the path of ‘he doesn’t know why he puts up with him for his shows’

Scout complaints paralleled in the afternoons, going to Engie and ranting how he’s ‘always on his case’ and ‘needs to chill’.

But like always, every evening at 4, the two would make there way to the common area tv.

[strangersteddierthings]

Writing prompt from this list, requested by @luciana-rowan. #60. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to seduce me." with Steve seducing Eddie with dnd.

This was supposed to be like 1.2k tops however you activated my secret trap card, which is DnD.

-

“Okay, that’s gotta be all there is, right?” Robin asks as she flips through the book again, pausing to flip back and forth between two pages, eyes narrowed like these pages have offended her personally. She’s leaning against the customer side of the counter at Family Video, and Steve is on the other so they can be facing each other.

Steve is double checking all the notes they’ve written out on notebook paper, Robin’s neat print mixed with Steve’s quick scratchy penmanship. They’ve finally condensed the contents (pages and pages of contents) into easier to look through notes and once they close Family Video, Nancy and Jonathan are going to join them at Steve’s and help him and Robin organize the notes in a way that will flow and be easier to follow.

Nancy because she’s good at the organization part, and Jonathan because he’s the only one of them that’s ever even played Dungeons and Dragons, even if it was only twice (he’s a good older brother, after all).

“Jesus Christ, I hope that’s all,” Steve slides the notebook across the counter and offers up a hand for the Dungeons and Dragons book. They swap, to double check that neither has overlooked anything.

“You know,” Robin says, “this is a lot of effort for one game. Do those kids really have all this memorized?”

“Seems like it,” Steve groans, running a hand through his hair. “That’s why I need the cheat sheet. I can’t be holding up their game for twenty minutes just to look up if something is allowed or not.”

Robin looks across the counter and grins at him. “I think it’s so sweet that you’re finally gonna agree to play. Going to this much effort for it, though... You might make Dustin cry.”

“Well, that’s the goal now,” Steve laughs. “Dustin cries or I’m flipping the table.”

“Well, now I want to be there. Either would be great to witness!”

“It’s not too late to make you a character,” Steve says, aiming for nonchalance and knowing that he might have hit the mark for anyone else, but this is Robin, and she’s always seen right through him. She was the one he ranted to this last time Dustin had asked (read: begged) Steve to join a game, the time that worked because Steve could no longer think of reasons to say no. He had said no, though, to Dustin’s face, but once he got home, he scooped up Eddie’s damn Dungeons and Dragons player handbook. Then called and recruited Robin to help.

Robin’s smile softens into something less teasing. “I can join, if it’ll make this less awkward for you.”

Steve’s surprised by her answer. “Oh. You’d- really?”

Robin shrugs. “Yeah, dingus. You might have had a long-standing weird vendetta about being asked to play but. Well, no one’s ever asked me before, so I guess I never had to think about if I would or not. It’s like you said on the phone ‘it might be nice to just to fight imaginary monsters for once’.”

“Our characters could be twins.”

Robin grins but before she can respond the ding of the door chimes. Steve swipes his hands across the counter, causing the book, notebook, and pencils to clatter behind the counter out of view. Back to work.

-

It all started when Dustin asked him to stay for a game months ago. It was the third Dungeons and Dragons game he’d dropped him off at after they’d survived Hell for the fourth (hopefully final) time.

“We play the game, but it’s also a time to like, catch up and chat,” Dustin said, all but pouting at Steve.

Steve had put his car in park and shut off the engine. “If Wheeler’s basement still smells, I’m leaving.”

“Yes!” Dustin cheered.

So, Steve followed Dustin into the Wheelers’ house, called a hello to Karen Wheeler, and made his way to the basement. There had been several startled looks in Steve’s direction, but he’d just walked past the table and plopped onto the end couch beside El, like it was something he did every day. Eddie, Will, Lucas, Erica, and Mike were already sitting at the table, using whatever they could find as chairs. Dustin and he were the last ones to arrive it seems.

El smiled up at him. “Hi Steve. It is nice to have company. I have been watching by myself, since Max can’t get down the stairs yet.”

Well, fuck. Now he’s got to walk Dustin in every time in case El’s in the basement, all lonely on the couch, watching her boyfriend play make believe. “Happy to keep you company, El. You have any idea what’s happening here?”

“I have an understanding of the story, yes,” El nodded and slid across the couch to be close enough to whisper to Steve. She filled him in on what she knew, which is not much because it was a new campaign, but she had sat with Mike and Will when they made their new characters and had been to the two previous games.

When the game got going, Steve watched as El leaned forward on the couch, elbows on her knees and chin in her hands. She had seemed raptured with the story, so Steve started to listen in, too. Dustin must have done a shit job at explaining how this game was played these last years, because as he had watched it progress it seemed more enjoyable than it had sounded when described.

More than that, Steve watched as the stress of real life melted away from the kids and Eddie. They were no longer a group of outcasts who had gone through Hell and barely survived. They were a group of friends having fun in a way Steve couldn’t remember experiencing since he had been in elementary school.

It was two more games and one pool party at his own house later before Steve got the idea to offer his dining room up for the game. Specifically, because at the pool party he saw Max sitting in his living room and did a double take at her, the pieces slotting together in his mind. Max couldn’t manage the steep stairs at the Wheelers house, but everything she needed to get to at Steve’s house was ground level – kitchen, bathroom, living room, dining table.

Next session before everyone scattered to the wind, Steve had said, “Hey, what do you say about moving this game to my house?”

Everyone sitting at the table whipped around to stare at him, mouths open and everything.

“What? My house doesn’t smell like armpit and, uhh, Max could come hang out again,” Steve shrugged and was almost mowed over by how quickly El threw herself on him, wrapping his waist in a hug.

“Yes! Yes!” She answered for everyone.

The next game was moved to Steve’s house. He’d rotated the couch so it would face the dining room table so Max, El, and he could sit comfortably and had even bought a bunch of snacks and soda.

Eddie had been the first person to show up. It had taken him four trips back and forth from his van to the dining room to unload everything he’d brought.

Steve eyes it all critically. “I haven’t seen you use half this shit when you play at Wheelers, yet to lug it back and forth. Do you really need it?”

Eddie shrugged, “Who knows? Better to have it and not need it or whatever.”

 “You load and unload all this shit every game?”

“Yeah. Wheeler helps usually but he isn’t here so….”

“If you had asked, I’d of helped,” Steve said. “I didn’t know you would need it, or if you’d want it.”

“Oh.”

Steve’s not sure what to think of Eddie sometimes. They’re friends now, or at least friend-adjacent. Well, it didn’t used to feel like ‘friend-adjacent’ until Steve started to sit in on the Dungeons and Dragons games. He got to see a freer side of Eddie, then. One that smiled and laughed a bit more than Steve ever saw. It’s fine. Steve’s fine. He’s not- he is not hurt that Eddie hides this part of himself from Steve.

Besides, Steve knows he’s the problem. Because Eddie doesn’t have this problem with Robin, or Nancy, or Jonathan. He’s seen Eddie relaxed and chill when they hang out, so long as Steve keeps his distance. And even if he hadn’t been sure that he was the issue before, he was after the first time they made eye contact during a game (accidentally) and he watched Eddie reigning himself in. Made himself smaller right before his eyes. Steve doesn’t understand why but he does his best to give Eddie space.

He thinks, maybe, that he makes Eddie uncomfortable on some level. He doesn’t know how, or why, or if he can change it.

Anyway, the next few games after that Steve helped Eddie unload and reload his van until he finally offered for Eddie to just keep the things he didn’t need at his house.

“If you don’t, y’know, use all of this to actually plan each session, you can just keep it here,” Steve said as they cleaned up, Max, Lucas, Erica, and Dustin helping, since Eddie had offered to pick them up and drop them off this time.

Eddie paused in his gathering of papers to study Steve before saying, “You sure?”

“Yeah. It’s not like I use the dining table unless you guys are here. So, just take what you use and leave the rest.”

Eddie took the Dungeon Master book but left his copy of the players handbook.

-

And those series of events have led to this Thursday night, with Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, and himself sitting at his dining room table, making a character sheet for Robin, and polishing up the one Steve had already made, because Steve isn’t embarrassed about asking for help these days. Jonathan even brought him the set of dice Will had given him when he’d played.

Robin’s not going to join until the next game, but she is going to come watch. Jonathan had explained that adding one extra character would be easy to accommodate but adding two was harder.

“So, if you like the game and want to continue, talk to Eddie about finding a good way for Robin to join,” Jonathan says, pushing the finalized ‘cheat’ sheet and character back to Steve. “If you don’t like playing, she can just replace you next game.”

“Dustin’s going to lose his mind tomorrow,” Steve laughs, having found that the papers look good, and he should be ready to go.

“I think we’re all sticking around to see it,” Nancy says. She’s volunteered to bring Mike, Lucas, Erica, and Dustin tomorrow night, and Jonathan is bringing Max and Robin when he brings El and Will.

“Hey guys, thanks for this,” Steve says when they clean up and everyone gathers to head out.

“Anytime, man,” Jonathan nods to him as Nancy gives him a quick side hug. Robin gives him a hug that lasts far longer before following them out the door. Steve had asked if she wanted to stay over but her parents are expecting her home tonight.

Once Steve is alone, he heads to the phone and dials Eddie’s number.

Three rings and, “Wayne speaking.”

“Hi Wayne, it’s Steve. Uh, Steve Harrington,” Steve says.

Wayne doesn’t chuckle into the phone, because Steve’s not certain he can chuckle, but he’s definitely amused when he says, “well, Steve Harrington, Eddie’s not home. I can leave a note for him to call you back. I don’t know when he’ll be here.”

“Oh, a note’s fine. I’m usually up late anyway.”

-

It’s a little past eleven when his phone rings. Steve is half asleep on the couch, but the ringing wakes him right up. And if he trips over his own feet on the way to the phone, there’s no witnesses so it didn’t really happen, did it? “Eddie?”

A soft laugh on the other end of the line, “it’s like you were expecting me, Harrington.”

“I was. Or, uh, I was hoping you’d call any way, not expecting because that feels like… loaded somehow.”

Silence, then, “so what can I do for you?”

“Could you, um, come over early tomorrow? Like thirty minutes sooner could work. An hour would be better, though,” Steve looks down and realizes he’s twirly the phone cord around his finger. He stills his hand and yanks it away from the cord, tucking his fist to his chest to keep it in check.

“Oh, I know what you want,” Eddie’s voice says, suggestive in a way Steve can’t decipher, “Yeah, I can come over an hour sooner.”

He’s been caught before he can even surprise anyone, he realizes. That’s the suggestive tone. Eddie knows. And if Eddie knows what he wants, there’s no way Dustin doesn’t already suspect. Ah well. Surprise ruined but it’ll still be fun for the kids. He hopes. Steve puts a smile on his face so he won’t sound upset with himself when he says, “thanks man. I appreciate it. See ya tomorrow.”

-

Eddie arrives a little more than an hour early but Steve’s not going to complain. He’d been pacing in the kitchen near the front window, so he watched as Eddie pulled up. He has the front door open before Eddie is halfway to the door.

“Someone’s excited,” Eddie wiggles his eyebrows at him as he passes, moving to the dining room to deposit his armful of stuff on the table.

“Nervous, actually,” Steve says, shutting the door and turning to follow. He almost runs into Eddie when he gets to the turn that leads into the kitchen, and dining room beyond it. “Oh, hi. Thought you were at the table.”

Eddie looks confused. “I gotta go grab the lunchbox. Wait- did you say nervous?”

“What do you need your lunchbox for?”

They stand in the kitchen entrance, just kinda blinking at each other for a moment before Eddie says, in a very confused, slow voice, “maaaaybe I don’t know why I’m here early. What did you want?”

Steve heads to the dining room, motioning for Eddie to follow. He pulls out two chairs next to each other, sliding into one and waiting for Eddie to sit in his. Steve reached across the table, to the player’s handbook and the notebook under it, dragging them closer. He turns to be facing Eddie, sitting sideways in his chair now. “I wanted to see if it was okay for another person to join the game. Today.”

Eddie’s eyebrows get lost behind his bangs with how high he raises them. “What? Who do you know that wants to play?”

“Uh, me,” Steve says, pulling the notebook out from under the handbook, taking out his character sheet and flipping the notebook open to the end of his notes, where he’d taken the time to write out some bullet points with ideas for his character backstory. Then he fishes out the dice from his pocket and deposits them on the table.

Eddie is deathly still and absolutely silent. The only movement is his eyes, which flick between the dice, the pages, and Steve’s face. He’s quiet so long that Steve is worried he made a mistake.

“Or, uh, if you’d rather I not- sorry, I just- Dustin tries to invite me all the time so I thought it would be okay,” Steve says, moving to close the notebook. That’s when Eddie comes back to life, his hand flying out to catch Steve’s, halting his hand.

“No! No, of course it’s fine. I’m just- surprised,” Eddie says, slowly, “you’ve been so against it, very vocally, so I’m just surprised.”

“Yeah. I was kind of an asshole about it all, wasn’t I? But when I think about it, like really think about it, I don’t know why I was against even trying it, y’know? Leftover shit from high school, I think. But I’m not that person anymore, so…” Steve shrugs with one shoulder, not sure why he’s telling Eddie these things. They don’t talk like this, usually. Steve finds he wants to, though. “Plus, watching the games, it looks like you guys have fun. Like, real, forget about your day kinda fun. Besides, Erica enjoys it, and she’s the coolest out of all of us. If Erica likes it, it can’t be just a nerd game.”

Eddie laughs and Steve gets to see that carefree smile Eddie seems to reserve for the kids. “Can’t argue with that. Erica is the coolest of this lot.”

“So, here’s what I was thinking,” Steve says, pulling the notebook between them to discuss the ideas Robin and he had come up with. He was going to play a fighter, so he didn’t have to worry about memorizing spells. If Eddie’ll let Robin join, he’d like for them to be twins, or siblings of some sort at least. Eddie nods, jumps on that instantly. Offers for them to have been separated on accident, so they could work on adding Robin more naturally later, with their two characters having been looking for each other this whole time.

Before Steve even realizes it, he’s been word vomiting for far too long about his character’s backstory and why he’d want to join the Party and Eddie has been silent the entire time, just listening to him, a soft smile on his face. “So, that’s what I got for now.”

Eddie let’s out a whistle and says, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to seduce me.”

Steve’s brain skips, or freezes, or something, because it just replays that whistle and those words for a few second in his mind before it helpfully supplies the thoughts ‘yes’ and ‘I didn’t know I could seduce you’. He’s just had an epiphany. Unfortunately, his mouth is still working while his brain does this, so it says, “are you feeling seduced, Eds?”

“AHAHA!” Eddie lets out a laugh that is more a bark before he stands up quickly, the chair falling backwards because he hadn’t bothered to scoot the chair back to give him room to stand. “Funny. Dustin’s right, you’re hilarious. I need a cigarette,” and then he all but runs out the front door.

Steve just watches him go before picking up the fallen chair. He can’t wait for Robin to get here. He needs to talk to her.

-

When Eddie comes back in, it’s with Robin, Jonathan, Max, El, and Will. Steve slaps his notebook shut quickly and hopes that Will didn’t notice it. Eddie is talking animatedly with Will upon entry, though, so he seems safe. Robin fast walks to the table and scoops Steve’s dice and shoves them in her pocket, because Will will recognize them if they stay out.

Steve stands, notebook in hand, and grabs Robin’s wrist with his free hand and drags her out back. He makes sure the slide-glass door is closed firmly and leads her around to the other side of the pool. He doesn’t want any eavesdroppers.

“Robin. Ok, so you remember by sexuality crisis last year?”

“Of course, Michael J Fox in Teen Wolf got you hot under the collar,” Robin says, “how could I forget? You cried about it.”

“You cried about yours, too! I just wasn’t there for it.”

“Not mocking!” Robin holds up her hands in defense, “just saying.”

“Robin. I think I like Eddie.”

“Oh!” her eyes go wide, and her mouth stays in a little ‘o’ shape for a moment. Steve stands there, letting her process. “Oh. Ooohhhhhh. That- that makes sense in my mind in a way I cannot put into words. Of course, it’d be Eddie Munson -the exact opposite of Michael J Fox, by the way- to also get you bothered. Why didn’t I pick up on that? How did I not notice this?”

“Because, despite our best efforts, we have yet to successfully combine,” Steve says, linking his fingers the way Robin had that day in Family Video before unlinking them to flip a hand back and forth between them. “We do not have time for you to have a crisis about it because I am having a crisis about it, and one of us needs to be level-headed.”

“Right,” she sobers instantly. “Right. We cannot spiral together. You first, I’ll wait my turn. So, you like Eddie. Enough to…. Want to do something about it?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, that was a quick answer. You… you really like him. Give me the details. What am I working with here.”

Steve thinks about it. “When he held a broken bottle to my neck, I was terrified. And a little aroused.” Robin says ew. “I’ve thought he was hot since then. But… when he came to at the hospital, all high on the medicine. He’d smiled softly at me and the first thing he said to me was glad you’re here, big boy. I think the actual crush started then.”

“Make sense, tracks, what with your hero complex and praise kink,” Robin nods and paces before turning back to him. “And the realization?”

He can’t argue the hero complex and praise kink thing, because they both know that would be a lie, so he answers, “When I was done rambling about my character idea, he whistled and said If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to seduce me and my first thought was yes.”

Robin’s eyes light up before she starts marching in a small circle around him as she thinks out loud. “Fuck, Steve, you really don’t do anything halfway. Alright. So, you want to do something about this, but you have to decide what you want to do. Because you are my soulmate and I want you happy, but like Eddie is also my friend and if you are experimenting… Just. You have to be sure.”

“I’m sure.”

She stops her circling to squint at him and read his mind, he supposes, because her face lights up in delight. “Oh shit! It’s not sexy thoughts! You want to like, hold his hand and cuddle on the couch, and like, cook dinner together and serve him breakfast in bed and bicker about whose turn it is to pick up Dustin from school!”

“Jesus Robin, can you not shout that! We are out here, so they,” he flings his hand in the direction of the house, “don’t hear. But, yeah. I… I like him. A lot.”

“I can see that. Like, really see that. You like him so much that just his company would be enough. Disgusting. Let me think,” she waves him off, like he has been dismissed but instead she’s the one walking away, walking figure eights around area in front of him for a couple minutes before whirling around to say, “You have to make your character a flirt. An outright slut, even. For information gathering purposes of course.”

“What?”

“He plays all the other characters, Stephan,” she says, dragging out his name to make it sound like ‘Steff-fawn’, “and you know he’s good at this… being in character thing! So, like, if you can trip him up by being all flirty, then that’s like, got to be a sign that he likes you, too, right? If he doesn’t like you, he can take it in stride. But! If he’s crushing on you, too, this will be like, too good to be true to him, yeah? That’ll fluster anyone, especially if he plays on our team and probably hasn’t had many guys openly hitting on him. Plus, you can always tell when someone likes you. You haven’t been checking for signs that Eddie might like you because you weren’t even aware it might be possible. And I’m not going to get your hopes up, Eddie could be, like, a totally straight dude, but when will it ever be safer to test this?”

Steve nods. “Yeah… yeah. Eddie is good at this character thing. And I do know when people are interested. And this is safe. If I flirt and he doesn’t react, or if he recoils in disgust, I can write what I’ve done off as it’s the game and I’m just trying to be a good player. Oh God, Robin, what if he’s like not okay with gay people.”

“Then we bodily throw Eddie out your front door, never speak to him again, and tell Will he’s the new Dungeon Master.”

“That seems extreme.”

“It’d be fitting. Eddie didn’t bat an eyelash when I came out to everyone after my date with Vicki. He actually congratulated me. So, if he only hates gay men then he’d be a disgusting lesbian fetishist and he’ll have to go ASAP. I doubt that’s the case, though.”

Steve barks a laugh and jerks his head towards the house, an offer to return inside. They turn towards the house and are greeted by everyone lined up along the glass door and windows that lead to the pool. A few of them (Nancy, Max, Will) have the decency to try and pretend they weren’t watching by turning away quickly but otherwise everyone just stares at each other until Dustin hauls open the glass door and shouts, “Are you two fighting?”

“No, we aren’t fighting,” Steve says as he shoves his way past Dustin and back into the house. “Let me grab the snacks and the game can begin.”

Steve moves to the kitchen, with Robin and Eddie following behind to help gather all chips, dips, candy, and soda and deposit them on any nearby surface in the dining room. Steve then slides into the chair to Eddie’s left, where Dustin usually sits before anyone else can take that seat.

Dustin slides into the chair next to him instead of arguing about it, saying, “Captivated, aren’t you? Guess I’ll let you have my spot so you can pay attention better. Told you this game was great.”

“I’ll be paying plenty of attention, don’t you worry,” Steve says to Dustin before turning to Eddie, who has taken his place at the head of the table, and winking at him, “right, Eds?”

Eddie stops moving for barely any time at all, and honestly, if the whole point of where he sat wasn’t to be close enough to catch and catalogue all of Eddie’s reactions, he would have missed the freeze. “Oh yeah. Steve’s been following the story closely.”

Steve looks around the table and watches the kids exchange glances and shrugs before Eddie begins to recall what happened last game and where the Party is headed now. Steve waits for his cue. Eddie’s got several ways to introduce Steve’s character, just in case the kids don’t grasp onto the plot hooks. But they’re good players, who know when an adventure hook is being dangled in their face. When their characters read the notice board, looking for quests, and come across the one of a man looking to hire help in searching for his lost sister, they buy into it quickly.

“You find yourselves at the tavern where the help wanted poster said to meet. There are three other people inside this early in the day, not including the barkeep.”

“Can I go and ask the barkeep if he knows who put the poster up?” Will asks. Will speaks in the first person who it comes to his character far more often than anyone else, Steve’s noticed.

“Of course. The barkeep is a surly looking dwarf who keeps rearranging the glasses behind the counter. He sees you approaching and listens to your question before saying,” Eddie says in his normal tone, before dropping into a deeper, Scottish accent. “Aye. You passed him on the way in. He’s sitting there, close to the door.”

“Do we approach as a group?” Lucas asks, and after a quick discussion and confirmation that the table their quest giver is sat as has enough seating for them all, they agree to approach together.

Eddie nods and says, “You all approach the table and the figure sitting there looks up as you do. Steve, please describe what they see as they approach you.”

Steve opens his mouth to answer but the table explodes. Dustin shrieks and throws out his hands to grip Steve’s arm and just shake him. “Oh my God. Oh my God. OH MY GOD. STEVE!” Dustin is yelling basically in his ear. Everyone is exclaiming something in excitement, and it gets loud, fast. With no end to the onslaught of screaming in sight, Steve resigns himself to this fate.

It takes far longer than it should for everyone to quiet down, and Steve’s a little red after all of it. Because he hadn’t expected this reaction. He thought Dustin might be a little hyped, sure, but this level of love he feels from all these kids, and for them, and how doing something so small, like joining their game, brings them this much joy… He regrets not joining sooner, honestly.

Finally, they quiet and Steve gets to describe his character, Sir Gregor of House Buckington (Robin’s idea of a last name, he’s not afraid to throw her under the bus for that) and the game progresses. When Steve’s asked to make his first roll of the night, everyone jumps to offer their dice, but he just calls out to Robin. She still has his in her pocket. He shoots a look at Will, who he can see recognizes the dice, and smiles at him as he rolls his first D20.

It's almost two hours into the session before Steve sees his chance to flirt. The Party is trying to negotiate a discount for some healing potions, and they’ve failed their check. They can’t afford the potions and Erica, playing the rogue, offers to try and steal them.

“Can I give Erica advantage by distracting the shop keep?” Steve asks.

Eddie looks intrigued by these. “… Maybe. How would you distract him?”

“Sir Gregor will lean against the counter and say ‘Sorry about my companion’s awkward attempts to swindle you of your goods for a fair price. I should have stepped in sooner, but I was a bit… captivated watching you shut them down’ and try and fluster this guy by flirting with him.”

It’s a mixed bag of reactions from the kids that Steve barely hears because he’s focused on Eddie. Eddie, whose face looks a bit redder than it usually does.

“You wanna… flirt with the shop keep?” Eddie’s voice is a bit higher than normal too. Interesting.

“If that’s allowed.”

“Umm, uh, y-yeah,” Eddie stumbled over his words and Steve can feel himself grinning like the cat that got the cream. Eddie is flustered. Steve has flustered him. Oh. This is going to be a good game. “Roll a persuasion check.” Steve gets a 17. “Lady Applejack, if you would, roll sleight of hand with advantage as Sir Gregor seems to have successfully taken the attention of the shopkeep.”

“I am going to enjoy having Steve play,” Erica says as she picks up her dice. “No one else helps me steal things.”

-

They play for almost four hours, an hour longer than normal, but Steve is surprised by how quickly it slips by and finds that he’s a little disappointed that it has to end, especially since they’ve stopped one round into combat. It’s a terrible place to stop, but if the kids are any later getting home there might be a reckoning done by some parents. The only reason there isn’t one now is because Nancy, ever practical about things, called all the parents about an hour and a half ago to let them know the kids might be an hour or two late getting home.

“We’ll pick up next week,” Eddie says, standing to get a good look at the battle map to copy it into his notebook.

“You can just leave it out so you don’t have to recreate it,” Steve says, like he does every week. “I won’t mess with it.”

And like every week before, Eddie just pulls out his graph paper and starts to track how many squares apart everyone is as the kids pack up their own things and head out. Steve walks them all to the door and Robin hangs back to talk, waiting on the front step. Steve walks out and shuts the door behind him.

“He’s absolutely into you,” Robin whispers. “Do you know that this means? We can go on double dates! I’ll be Eddie’s fake date, because I’m not sure Vicki and Eddie should be left alone to conspire against us but-“

“I think it’s a bit too soon to be planning double dates, Buckley,” Steve cuts her off. “Yeah, Eddie’s into me. But like… into me? Does he even know he’s into me?”

“Right. Could also be in the denial phase, still,” she says, then deepens her voice in a poor imitation of Eddie’s and adds, “I think Steve is hot but in a purely platonic friend-like fashion.”

He laughs, shoving Robin towards Jonathan’s car, where everyone else is loaded and waiting, “go home.”

She leaves laughing and Steve waves them off before going back inside. He finds Eddie at the table, placing the minis carefully back into the tacklebox he keeps them in.

“Seriously, you don’t have to put everything away,” Steve says and Eddie jumps.

“Jesus! Don’t sneak up on me,” Eddie clutches at his heart dramatically.

“I didn’t sneak! You’re lost in your own head if you didn’t hear the door slam or my footsteps,” Steve leans back against the wall, watching Eddie. The other man nods to himself, hands still fiddling with a mini in his hand. The one he’d used for Steve’s character. Steve watches and wishes he could read Eddie’s mind as easily as Robin reads his.

“Thank for playing tonight,” Eddie finally says, placing the mini back onto the table instead of in the tacklebox before turning to Steve. “You did real good.”

Steve gives him a smile he hopes Eddie can see if soft and fond, “yeah? I put a lot of effort into this. Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan helped me.”

“You recruited all three?”

“Yeah. I wanted to put in the effort. I’ve watched several games now; I see how much time you all put into this. It’d be an asshole move to agree to join and not, like, at least read the rules.”

Eddie hums an agreement, “would be kinda asshole-ish, but you’re certainly not an asshole anymore.”

Steve fakes wounded, “you thought I was an asshole?”

“Well, it would be a pretty dick move on my part to think you’re an asshole after everything,” Eddie takes a step towards Steve, then seems startled at himself, like he can’t believe he moved. “Anyway, you willing to play again next week?”

“Yeah, man. Looking forward to it.”

“Cool. Cool,” Eddie nods before turning to gather up the stuff he brought with him. “I’ll see you next week, then.”

“Totally.”

Steve watches Eddie head towards the door and feels something like regret in his stomach. Logically he knows he doesn’t have to rush this. Doesn’t have to fling himself at Eddie immediately now that he knows he wants to, knows that Eddie is at least enough into him to get flustered with his ‘fake’ flirting.

But.

But Steve has lived through four apocalypses and Eddie almost didn’t survive one and life is worth taking a chance on doing things he never thought he’d do (like playing and enjoying a game of Dungeons and Dragons), so- He picks up his D20 from the table and gives it a roll, leaves it up to chance if he should do this now or wait.

It rolls around the table, bounces off the books still left on the table before rolling to a stop.

Eh, 8 is good enough.

“Eddie, wait!” Steve flings open his front door and shouts. Eddie, in the process of backing out of the driveway, brakes. Steve runs across his yard and Eddie, window already cracked, rolls it the rest of the way down.

“Yeah?”

“Wanna go on a date with me,” Steve says, then winces. He used to be better at this. “Please. I mean, go on a date with me. Oh, that sounds worse, like I’m expecting you to. Which I’m not-I don’t expect you to like me just because I like you. Fuck, I’m ruining this. Would you like to go on a date with me, please?”

Eddie just lets him shove his foot in his mouth, but he looks fond more than annoyed. Still, he says, “I, uhh, didn’t know you were… into guys.”

“Guys in general, sure. You, specifically? Ridiculously into you.”

That brings a smile to Eddie’s face. “Yeah?”

“So, uh date tomorrow? After I get off work?”

“Tomorrow,” Eddie agrees easily.

Steve watches Eddie drive away and suddenly he can’t wait for work tomorrow. Robin’s going to implode when he tells her.

-

-

Eddie, after getting off the phone with Steve the night before the game: Oh, he wants to do drugs before having to suffer through watching us play dnd again. Better bring my druglunchbox

[novella-november]

I forgot to take a screenshot of the full anon before I blocked them, but if you try to send in mile-long ""polite"" rants about, and this is a very very condensed summary:

"you're my new favorite writing motivation blog, but could you please consider not reblogging so many Palestine posts? could you please consider not posting stuff for Palestine? its really fracturing for the writing community and there's plenty of other bloggers who are sharing them, you don't need to do it too. I know it's probably an important cause to you but don't you think you should try to keep the community focused on writing?"

you will just get blocked.

If you have a platform, you are morally obligated to speak up against genocide.

I am no celebrity, but this blog has reach, and I will use that reach where I can to post once a day, as I have been, links to Gazafunds where you can donate to a random, vetted fundraiser, as well as the link to where you can click a button on a page once a day for six causes and generate ad revenue to help charities and NGOs when you don't have the money to donate directly.

""Theres already plenty of people sharing those posts"" --

-- until the genocide is over and Palestine is free there will never be enough people sharing and reblogging these posts.

If you have a platform you're morally obligated to speak out against genocide. And I will continue to do so until the genocide is over and the people are freed from tyranny.

[ID: a cropped Tumblr Mobile notification for an anonymous Ask that partially reads "Hi! I'm following your blog to have some motivation..." The rest of the text is cut off by the small notification size. End ID]

Hopefully I'll only have to make *this* post just once, and after today I will continue my daily reblog of the art post, but if you see me self-reblogging this post again in the future, it's safe to say someone else *tried* to come in my inbox to complain again.

Anyways:

Don't forget your daily clicks:

If you have the actual money to spare, please consider donating using GazaFunds to donate directly to vetted fundraisers

[zeno-zero]

Avatar Roku rant/rambles:

I love him, I love him in such an insane amount. Had me on chokehold since 10 years old like goodness me! What the fuck H-E-🏑🏑 !!

Nobody understood his character and that would've been greatly fine with me but the amount of mischaracterizations, misinterepations, and wishes that he's more like Kyoshi has always made me upset. Roku is a good man whose position as an avatar is poor in terms of writing and expanding his story further.

Roku outside of being Aang's mentor and guide - he was nothing more than just being kindhearted, wise, and pleasant while also acknowledging his indecisiveness, and faults. He even has a flawed perspective on the four nations, that the four nations should always be remained seperated, and still. Yet, I still continue to adore him a LOT. He have so much potential, there are rooms that people could always explore his character than just on the surface/visual level. His airbending and waterbending teachers weren't even named in the late 2010's until some informations were finally out !!

The gene yang comics are not my cup of tea but Roku telling Aang that he should end Zuko's life because he couldn't bare the thought of seeing Sozin? WOW. His friendship with Sozin has always mean something to Roku - so much so, he trusted him to the point it was his downfall. The thought of Sozin's redemption after he left him with the rubble is definitely what Roku had in his mind. But we're talking about the conflict between the Avatar and the Fire Lord, never Roku and Sozin.

His bending abilities are fucking awesome too !! Destroyed an entire palace with airbending + avatar state alone? Created a massive wave in one single move that sent his teacher flying up all the way on top of the chief's palace? He can even be quiet and and silently burrow to the ground to suprise attack enemies with earthbending? Lets not forget that the entire island that Roku was in used to be a huge one until he cut it into a cresent island !! There used to be two super volcanoes !! There's only one remaining !! His firebending shown on the show is also interesting! His fire made Zhao's crew literally run away while incinerating thd metal chains that Katara, Sokka, Shyu, and Zuko were wrapped around with,, unharmed. Him simultaneously bending all four elements at once without the use of the avatar state? Gosh,, people underestimate him sooooo much !!

"But Roku died to a volcano! He should've evacuated-" He was minimizing the effects of it! He died as a hero in that night because no other people held power his power just like he has. The citizens and his wife would've died if it weren't for him, because while it isn't explicitly explained in his wiki and show -  Lava entering the ocean creates a distinctive set of hazards that have seriously injured or killed unsuspecting people eager to see up close the interaction of hot lava and cool seawater. As hot lava boils cool seawater, a series of chemical and physical reactions create a mixture of condensed, acidic steam, hydrochloric acid gas, and tiny shards of volcanic glass. Blown by wind, this plume creates a noticeable downwind haze, known as "laze" (short for lava haze) <- [From "Lava entering ocean" | U.S Geological Survey - USGS.gov] ||And to also answer the dragon part that died with him? I have no answer for that other than the plot has to move on /or the dragon relies on his orders, and to Roku's dying breath, he would rather stay with him.

And nobody talks about how painful and traumatizing Roku's death is - pyroclastic flow is apart of volcano, he either died burning alive, suffocated, or even buried alive! On the margins of pyroclastic flows, death and serious injury to people and animals may result from burns and inhalation of hot ash and gases. Archaeologists have found that some people perished in a pyroclastic surge, a wave of superheated gas and hot ash that literally boiled their blood and caused their skulls to explode, reports Neel V. Patel at Popular Science. <- [Pyroclastic Flows move fast and destroying everything in their path" | U.S Geological survey] AND ["Mount Vesuvius Boiled Its Victims’ Blood and Caused Their Skulls to Explode" by Jason Delay]

But in a summary, I love Roku and I would die to honor his name. Thank you for reading through all of this. Love you guys !! /platonically 

[batfambrainrotbeloved]

Hi!!! Was just wondering, willl we be seeing any of the young justice in DSB?

Also does the young justice team even happen?

The awnser is- complicated

I improv a lot of my writing on the spot, with just a vauge idea of what will happen in the future (of course now for beta convinence I made a more solid timeline) and when coming up with that made some major cuts.

Originally it would have actually been Young Justice to "solve" what happened to Tim and raise the alarm, but now that role has been condensed and refilled.

Will they make an apperance?? Perhaps. If not absolutely in a future one shot based on the main fic!!

And if that didn't explain itself then yes YJ DOES exist (with Tims meddling to ensure it happened of course) with some minor tweaks to their stories due to timeline stuff and because I saw some of their stories and went "yeah no"

So while I absolutely adore my beloved YJ- I dont think this series will give them much of a spotlight outside an introspective rant or some mentions- let alone go into continuity changes as of rn

[ddejavvu]

Hi Mei, how are you? I was wondering if you had the time, could you write something about drunk lovesick eddie? I had the worst week at work & I am exhausted, my body is in pain, & I'm very underappreciated. I need something so tooth rottingly sweet & goofy from my comfort character. I imagine drunk eddie being affectionate to the max! Loving pda & not giving a damn about who's watching. I'll even take headcannons if you're unable to write something longer. Thnx for listening to my rant. ILYSM ❤

I hope this helps, lovely! i'm sorry you've had a shitty week :( get some good rest and i hope you feel better!!! <33

--

A wet, far-too-uncoordinated kiss to your jaw breaks your attention away from where you're sitting around the pool. Steve's under attack from the kids, but it's his fault for giving them water guns. You'd been snickering at his frantic shouts of 'not the hair!', and you hadn't noticed Eddie's hand snaking up your leg.

You look down at him and the stench of beer hits you in waves. It's unpleasant, but Eddie's grin isn't, and the haze in his eyes is gooey and lovesick.

"Hey," He drawls, palm braced on your stomach where he's laying beside you on his deck chair. He's hauled himself up as best as possible to be eye-level with you, but he's still a few inches short.

"Hi," You croon, your own drink, a simple fruit punch, wetting your hand with icy condensation, "You wanna get in?"

You tilt your chin towards the water, but he doesn't even have to glance at it to answer. He shakes his head, leaning over to bury his face in your bare stomach. You feel his teeth close around a pinch of skin and you yelp through a laugh, tugging at his ear to break him away from your tummy.

"No fair," He grumbles, eyes squinting at how the sunlight hits him, "Jus' wanted to- to.. kiss you."

"Kiss with your lips," You brush a hand through his curls, though they're slightly damp and matted from his earlier time in the water, "Not your teeth."

"I think I need a reminder of how to do that," Eddie's eyes fly open again, glossy and dazed as ever, and he reaches for your jaw. He locks his hand firmly around your chin, tugging you down so that you're practically bent in half. Now, though, you're face-to-face, and he puckers his lips expectantly, saliva giving them a glossy sheen.

He closes his eyes, and you find the perfect opportunity. You swap your lips for your glass, pressing the dewy drink against his mouth before he can realize that he can't feel your breath on his face anymore. His eyes shoot open and he shrieks, water dribbling down his cheeks and chin from where it had spilled onto his lips. You practically roar with laughter, and a few heads turn from the pool.

"You little-!" Eddie stammers, fighting the haziness in his brain to move his limbs. He struggles his way up off of your lap, and you give him the perfect opportunity for a tackle with the way you throw your head back and laugh. You feel pressure on your lap and when you open your eyes he's hovering over you, face still dripping wet.

"I wanted a kiss," He reminds you, panting slightly from the exhilaration of the moment, "That was mean."

"That was not mean," You scoff, "That was funny."

"Nobody laughed," Eddie breathes, though you know he's not really mad.

Before you can continue bickering a flash of red hair passes you, and Max drawls, "I did."

[mythserene]

AKOM “Fine Tuning,” Episode 6: A prolonged jealousy

Another really excellent episode that I will have to listen to at least two more times to fully ingest, despite having lots of diffuse, unconnected notes where I ranted about most of the same text. They really backed up and gave it context and meaning, including adding a lot of things that I didn’t have and making sense of some of the extras that I did. It was both satisfying and frustrating: more satisfying than I expected, and my frustration feels more coherent and focused now.

I definitely think it’s one of the most important episodes.

There is only one point I would add, and that is just that when you listen to the episode it’s important to realize that Paul’s “jealousy” is the most egregiously non-sourced. There are basically two quotes that Mark Lewisohn uses to support this entire theme. The theme which he so beats into the ground that even if you don’t look at the footnotes it feels excessive.

I’ve mentioned before that when I read “Tune In” I was still very, very new to Beatles’ history. A newborn without any of the historiographical context, no understanding of the long, strange, John-deifying background, and therefore I wasn’t on the lookout for it. And that’s important because I went into the book with implicit trust, loved the writing, and still it was evident to me, fairly quickly, that I was reading an opinion column.

It was the cigarettes that did it

Paul’s care with money was noted—Pete says that while they all passed their ciggies around, Paul would “sneak one of his own to himself”—and he was still needling everyone about the Bambi sleeping arrangements, made all the worse now because he was jealous of Pete getting the best girls.

The second time I read the book I remember thinking, “Surely not that many people spontaneously bitched about Paul being stingy with cigarettes.” And that was my tipoff.

There are two quotes in the book about Paul and cigarettes that appear to be organic—one being Pete’s “sneak one of his own” quote in this episode—but you’d think that half the people Lewisohn talked to about their memories of some of the most famous people ever, and certainly the most famous from Liverpool, just magically thought that one of the most important things about these four guys was that Paul was stingy with cigarettes. And there is just no way that that is true.

But I also know how this works, inside out. You get “an angle” as a reporter. You have a story you want to tell, and then you interview people with that story—that angle—in mind. You ask questions that you think will elicit the responses that back up your thesis. And then, on the other side of the process, you filter the quotes you choose (and don’t choose) that tell the story you want to tell. And to be fair, every reporter and historian does this to some extent. It may just be to organize ideas in a coherent way, or it may be to focus on a theme. But it has also notoriously been used by historians to warp the truth and further a broader historical lie. (A very good example of this and the one closest to me is “the Dunning School” of the US Civil War and Reconstruction, the first real and condensed story of that conflict that injected into US historiography many complete lies, including the especially insane one that after the Civil War the “Radical Republicans” inflicted pain and humiliation on the South, which despite being the exact opposite of the truth is still the story most Americans “know.”)

Mark Lewisohn had a story he wanted to tell, and I believe that story is most obvious in his “jealous Paul” theme because it’s based on nearly thin air and even then is so ludicrously overblown. But I think it was just too tempting a canvas for Lewisohn. Setting up a dead, pretty kid as a sort of saint that Paul persecuted does so much work for everything else he wants to say about Paul, especially in the upcoming books. Hamburg becomes a pressure cooker where Paul’s true colors come out, and if Lewisohn can use Stu—a sort of perfect near-blank slate who never had time to put any of his memories into context—as a foil to Paul and to paint Paul as petty and jealous and seething, then all the rest of his work is easy. Stu is a layup that paves the way to seeing Paul as a bad guy. The concrete dries and everything else falls into place.

And look, there just is no way to see this theme as organic, because it’s not. It just isn’t. It’s not based on quotes or stories. There are a few completely disconnected quotes stretched to breaking that he uses to try to prop all this nonsense up with, but there is simply no defense for even 90% of the primary usage of them, and certainly not of the whole, big-picture story he creates with them.

I’m going to give one example—and there are many—but I admit to liking this one best because it’s all there in one passage based on one quote that doesn’t say any of this.

Passage:

But, as much as Paul liked exhibiting versatility, he was unhappy—he felt he’d been lumbered, that his multi-instrumental ability was tying him down. Who looked at the drummer? By rights, his place was out front, especially with his new guitar. Here he was, paying off the Solid 7 at ten bob a week and hardly getting to play it. Jealousy of Stu was stoked: Paul was in the back line while he remained out front (even if he was hiding and in dark glasses). One thing was for certain: Paul wasn’t going to abandon singing.

The only citation for all that Maca-inhabited resentment is the brief Paul quote already in the text, (FN35) and the next footnote—FN36—is from George on a new topid. There is no citation whatsoever to support any of Lewisohn’s finely-sketched fantasies of Paul’s vanity and jealousy.

FOOTNOTE 35: “I was drumming with my hands, playing the hi-hat and bass drum with my feet and I had a broomstick stuck between my thighs on the end of which was a little microphone, and I’m singing ‘Tell me what’d I say …’ It wasn’t easy!”

*Note: This quote is also in the text right under the ‘lumbered Paul wanted to be out front’ passage, so in some ways it’s an even thinner spread, if that’s possible.

So, according to Lewisohn:

Paul liked “exhibiting versatility” (a whole lot because of the modifier “as much as”)

Paul was unhappy because he felt “lumbered”

He felt he was being punished because he was TOO TALENTED

BY RIGHTS his place was out FRONT

He wanted to be LOOKED AT!

Jealousy of Stu is grabbed from thin air, based on nothing, and “stoked” by Lewisohn.

because, again, Stu was out FRONT

Did you catch the point that Paul is CHEAP?

Again, all of that is cited to this:

“I was drumming with my hands, playing the hi-hat and bass drum with my feet and I had a broomstick stuck between my thighs on the end of which was a little microphone, and I’m singing ‘Tell me what’d I say …’ It wasn’t easy!”

There are at least two more things that I want to say but this is long enough so I will put them off. (Hopefully not for long.) ✌🏻