#i think i worded that question weird

[vaguely-concerned]

...do you guys think lucanis is straight-facedly and earnestly going to like. put 'killed god' on his CV after this

[ghost-proofbaby]

It's summer for you, winter for me. Warm me up with strawberry fluff! As always, my muse, your muse, the one and only, Eddie.

Midsummer's night, because I don't have a lot to inspire you with. I'm thinking something cute but weird? Maybe some human body softness where Eddie is a bit of a freak and we love him for it. And we're told our bodies are lovely, even when they're doing weird shit.

I lalalove youuuuu. xo Rhi

RHI!!!! <3 i adore you. thank you for this prompt - i had far too many ideas for it, but ended up on settling for this one, which coincidentally feels like the most subtle of them all? either way, it definitely turned out being the softest. give me an eddie munson who just wants to sniff me like a dog. this definitely got a bit long but i hope you enjoy, my dear <3

the smell of you

warnings: weirdos in love? idk. i have a skewed sense of what is actually weird i think. mentions of death and coffins jokingly. eddie 'manhandles' reader sort of. not edited.

wc: 2.2k+

come enjoy a sweet summer treat with me <3

“Eddie?”

The entire apartment is quiet – too quiet – as you drop your keys into the old crystal bowl on the counter. The clink resonates through the air, louder than the soft murmur of the stereo static you can hear from down the hall. 

“You dead?” you call out again, slipping off your running shoes and tossing down your headphones onto the counter as well now, “Do I need to call the coroner?” 

Your tone is lilted, teasing with airiness as you continue to wander deeper into the apartment and head straight for the room you know Eddie has to be in. Like the waves pulled by the moon, there’s an incessant string tied around one end of your soul that connects you to his, and you follow it all the way down the hallway. The bedroom door is wide open, and you can hear his mumbled yell of a response without clarity before you even cross the threshold. 

You wouldn’t have even needed him to verbally respond to find him in this tiny apartment. You two could get separated on the streets of a bustling city, of a buzzing New York sidewalk, and you still wouldn’t properly lose him. It’s more than just soul ties and his gravity that keeps you pulled to him. 

Something unspoken. Something homely. 

“Sorry, what was that?” you hum as you spy him face-down in the bed, pillow muting him by the mouthful, “Say it one more time, and this time not into the pillow.” 

When he finally properly turns over, he’s a vision. Sleep lines folded into his skin and a bit of drool in the corner of his mouth, eyes squinting in irritation not at you but the sunlight flooding in through the bedroom window. Messy hair, messy shirt, messy everything. A kind of mess you just want to collapse into currently, curling up in all that he is from the day’s exhaustion. 

He’d mentioned wanting to take a nap before you’d left for the gym. Something about the summer heat draining him, trailing off as he’d rambled about how he’d probably thrive as a vampire. 

“I said,” he huffs, sitting up, the frizz of his hair becoming a makeshift halo, “If you call the coroner, request the comfiest coffin possible.”

“Why do you need a comfy coffin if you’re already dead?” 

“You dare deny me of being buried in tempurpedic memory foam? In my hour of need?” 

You roll your eyes as you huff out a little laugh, forcing yourself to turn away from him long enough to strip out of your socks. But just as you reach down for the pieces of clothing, you catch sight of the source of that stereo static flooding the room. 

Your shared record player, spinning a blood red pressing of one of your more recent vinyl purchases. The album has been played through, but the player no longer had an automatic stop mechanism, probably from years of use. 

The center of the record is probably scratched, and Eddie knows it, from how sheepish he looks when you glance over your shoulder at him. 

“Speaking of death,” you walk over quickly, purposefully, before carefully lifting the needle and cutting the static finally, “Care to explain why you’re burning scratches into my Momento Mori vinyl?” 

“I’m sorry,” he quickly apologizes, nearly flinging himself off the bed as he scooches quickly to the end, clearly fully awake now, “I put it on and thought I’d just lay down for a quick second, but then the bed was so comfy, and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick nap, and then…” he trails off, looking up at you through his lashes with big eyes already pleading for forgiveness, “I’ll buy you a new one. Swear it.” 

It’s impossible to be mad at him when he’s looking like this, inhumanely soft and easily forgiven, “You’re lucky you’re cute, or you really would be dead.” 

He doesn’t respond with words, but instead the outstretch of his hands, fingers flexing as he beckons to you. The needle rests on its perch, the vinyl left behind to gather dust for a few extra moments, as you go straight to him. 

When his palms slip beneath your old t-shirt and meet your skin, they’re pleasantly warm. 

“You were right,” you admit as his knees spread, delegating even more room for you to stand in front of him as your hand wanders to cradle the side of his face, fingers tangling in sweaty curls from his rest. Your thumb mimics his on your own skin instinctively, tracing a large arch right up over his cheekbone, “It’s hot as balls outside.” 

“Told you so,” he murmurs, smiling softly in satisfaction as he leans lazily into your touch. 

“You did,” you agree quietly, half-entranced by his relaxed face, no sight of pride in the room currently. 

He resembles a cat as he continues to preen under your gentle hand, and you almost expect him to start purring right before you find the strength to pull away, removing his hands from where they'd wandered to your lower back. 

One swipe of his finger along your sweaty spine, and you’d remembered what your original intentions had been immediately upon getting home. 

“Wai- Where are you going?” he’s seemingly brought back down to Earth the moment he loses the pattern your thumb had been tracing, the press of your fingertips into his scalp. When he reaches back out to latch onto you again, you take a step back, “Get back here-”

“I need to shower,” you laugh, shaking your head and smacking his hands away as he continues to barter, “I’m all sweaty and smelly, let me go clean up and then we can nap togeth-” 

“You can shower after we nap,” he nearly whines, finally catching your shirt between his fingers and tugging, uncaring for if he stretches the fabric. A small price to pay to have you close to him, “C’mon, sweetheart. I know you’re just as exhausted as I am.” 

You swear you meant to take another step backwards, but somehow, you end up back between his knees, “Did you not hear me, Munson? I stink.”

“Good.” 

He doesn’t give you any time to react – in an instant, he’s throwing his face forward, burying it against your stomach as you let out a gasp and immediately try to pry him away with far too gentle of hands in his hair. 

“Eddie!”

If it were anyone else, you’d probably be mortified. But Eddie just takes a dramatic deep breath in, nose buried just shy of your belly button, and when his shoulders start to shake with muted laughter, you can’t stop the smile from breaking. Your fingers are still twisted in his hair, still pulling back in an attempt to get him away from you, but he’s resilient. 

And all your faux resistance is weak in comparison. Soon enough, you’re back to melting into him. 

Only once you’re relaxed once more, no sign of trying to pull away again any time soon as his hands once more evade the space beneath your shirt to wander up and down your sticky skin without a care in the world, does he lift his face away from you long enough to breathe and speak, “I’ll have you know – I love your stink.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious.” 

“You’re an idiot.” 

“I’m your idiot.” 

The game of banter is cut short when he goes back to pressing his nose into your clothes that surely can’t smell good. No amount of deodorant or perfume could erase that underlying stench of sweat. Hell, the shirt is still a bit moist from it all: from the walk to the gym, from your workout itself, from the walk home. It’d been through the ringer, and you’re back to tugging him away from you. 

“I refuse to believe you like how gross I smell right now,” you reinforce, eyes darting towards the bathroom connected to your master bedroom, “I promise I’ll be quick with the shower.” 

“Baby,” he fights back, wrapping his arms around you securely, no intention of losing this battle, “You remember that time we went to the fair, and you were complaining about how you were sweating, so I tried to lick your face?” 

Your nose scrunches quickly at the memory, “I do, unfortunately.”

“You really think I’d be willing to lick the sweat off your body but be afraid of you smelling a little bad while we cuddle?” his shoulders drop as he looks up at you, head tilted, almost as if amused with the conversation, “What kind of man do you take me for?” 

“The kind that gets off on annoying me.” 

His jaw drops, putting on a fake look of offense before he dramatically throws himself back onto the bed, laying flat as he makes a fist to mimic stabbing his chest, “You wound me.”

You’ve heard those words a thousand times in a hundred different ridiculous voices. You’ve seen this scene enough to have it mesmerized at this point, down to the over-exaggerated pout of his lips and the lingering of the fist against his sternum. 

You never grow tired of it. You never will. 

“Need me to kiss it better?” you joke as you prop a knee up on the bed, following the same script as always. 

And he hits his queue perfectly when he lifts his head eagerly at the expected response, wiggling his brows a bit. “Absolutely. Doctor’s orders, in fact.” 

“Great,” you see an opportunity, and take it, “I’ll get right to it, after my showe-” 

You don’t even get the final syllable of the word off your tongue before he’s clenching his thighs around your own, knees pressing hard before he wraps his legs the rest of the way around your waist to pull you in. A squeak of surprise leaves your lips as you begin to fall forward, but Eddie is quick to break the fall with ease. Catching you with his eager hands, maneuvering for you to half drop to the mattress while some of you still lands atop of him. 

He has you right where he wants you, turning his head to be face to face with you, noses nearly brushing, “Unfortunately, the doc said you have to kiss it better now, or else you’ll be comfy coffin shopping.” 

“A fatal wound?” you gasp, nearly mocking him. It doesn’t offend him – if anything, his boyish grin only grows wider, “First, I’m smelly-”

“Again, I like when you’re smelly.”

“-And then I inflict a fatal wound upon my lover? Oh, how dare I.”

Slowly, all your insecurity of how you currently smell is simply fading. The entire ordeal has become an art of childlike, whimsical jokes – and Eddie is an artist. A professional at the dance, locked and loaded with his incomparable skill set equipped for disarming you this way. The ability to make someone feel loved, imperfections and weirdness aside. 

He likes you, even when you claim you don’t smell your best. And you like him, even when his hair is tangled beyond recognition and one of his socks is half-hanging off his foot from a nap.

You like him when he’s embarrassing you in public, tongue chasing after you with the threat of licking your sweat away, and he likes you when all you can do in response is a weak palm to his chest (that isn’t even making an effort to push him away) as you giggle relentlessly. 

You like each other on the good days, the bad days, the weird days. 

Disarmed entirely, you don’t even notice when his face conveniently slots itself far too close to your armpit as you two scooch further up into the bed. You’re more occupied with the way your legs tangle up, toeing each other’s socks off properly as he slings a heavy arm across your torso. 

“We’re gonna have to wash the sheets,” you mumble, exhaustion catching up as the two of you finally settle. 

He hums absentmindedly, nuzzling into your skin a bit further as he makes himself comfortable. “And wash away your sweet, sweet stink? I don’t think so, sweetheart.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” you laugh, unbothered as your fingers start to trail up and down his back over the t-shirt, smoothing out wrinkles along the way, “I’m serious. We need to change them soon anyways, I think I got crumbs in the bed the other night with those crackers.” 

“Bury me in the crumbs of all your midnight snacks,” he almost slurs, clearly drifting back off. 

You snort in response, relaxing and letting your own eyes shut. Matching all your deep breaths with his own, a million different last words crossing your mind to whisper to the boy you’re sure is once again asleep. 

I love you.

I adore you. 

I would like to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me. 

And maybe some of those unspoken thoughts slip out without you realizing, because he squeezes you just a little bit tighter, presses his face just a little bit deeper into your skin as his scruff tickles you. 

The only actual thought you can know for certain that you say, though, is, “Do you think they actually make coffins with memory foam inside?”��

To your surprise, even despite the almost-snores that had been escaping him, he answers in a heartbeat. 

“Oh, definitely. We’ll order two.”

[al-luviec]

I got so insanely mad while drawing this

+ closeup and normalness

[giantchasm]

Hey, so, a while back I made a revelation, and I’m finally posting about it on Tumblr because I continue to have A Few Goddamn Questions.

Alright. So I want everyone here to take a good hard look at Joronia/Spider Sectonia. Something you might notice about her design is that she’s pretty clearly wearing clothes. And like… of course she is— why wouldn’t she? She’s more or less a mirror of Taranza’s design, and he’s wearing clothes, so she is too.

But… Sectonia. The Sectonia WE know. The final boss you defeat at the end of the video game… while she has design elements that evoke the image of clothing, seemingly only the collar, the crown, the gloves and maybe the sleeves are actual clothing. Everything else is just her body.

Which wouldn’t be all that noteworthy if she were a standalone design. Plenty of characters in Kirby, including Kirby himself, don’t wear clothes! I’m certainly not going to point at Marx and accuse his practically running around butt-naked of being weird, but in the context of the fact that Sectonia used to wear clothes?

It kind of makes it feel like she stripped for no discernible reason following her descent into villainy, and that’s really, REALLY funny.

GIRL! PUT YOUR SHIRT BACK ON!!! THERE ARE STRANGERS IN YOUR HOUSE.

[kwillow]

REAL Theo romancers know that the best Theo route is balancing between flirting with him and pissing him off/j

That's the spirit!

(But I do feel the need to emphasize again, just in case, that the romance system in Wishbone is an extremely extremely extremely small part of the game. The next demo will contain dozens of cutscenes and quest-lines and only one of them briefly touches on a potential romance about 1/4 of the way through and then there's no more romance content in the remaining hours of the demo. I don't want people to play the game expecting a love sim and be disappointed when it's about farming, doing chores for weird townsfolk and shaping the melodramatic cowboy plot instead. :'D)

[designernishiki]

it’s kinda funny to me how that dumb scene in kiwami 1 of majima getting shot and left for dead in the harbor was basically just added as a half-assed way to explain majima not being around for a bit of the plot, but they accidentally(?) just made it seem like start of a chain reaction where majima ended up feeling slighted and heartbroken after being abandoned like that and then lashed out about it via smashing a big truck into the building kiryu was in. and yeah that isn’t inherently a romantic thing as-is but then they go and add the part where majima grabs a hostess and performatively hits on her as in-kiryu’s-face as possible, she says she’s already in love with someone, and majima lets her go immediately, no questions asked, making a big fucking point of it just to say see THAT kiryu? I appreciate when people are HONEST about their FEELINGS. people who won’t just BACKSTAB someone who CARES about them to save themselves. is that so crazy kiryu?? huh??? anyway make it up to me get down here and fight me right fucking now

[the-meme-monarch]

ok sorry i didn’t go insane over emesis blue like i thought I would but it is making me scared irl now. i can’t turn over in bed bc what if there’s a severed head positioned like it’s peaking around the doorframe. what if i look over and The Butcher is there

[hiimcanadia]

It really is crazy how terfism has made people so suspicious of feminism as a whole. You can literally make a post saying something as basic as "it is bad when women are sexually assaulted" and some people will immediately start investigating you to see if you're a transphobe. terfs have successfully worked their way into people's minds and made them, either consciously or subconsciously, associate feminism with transphobia. They've convinced people that the only way to be a feminist is to be a transphobe as well, and that all feminists are therefore the enemy. It's almost impressive, for how terrifying it is.

Idk really what the solution to this is, because I do think it's important to be proactive in shutting down transphobic sentiments in leftist spaces. I have definitely seen posts that are very carefully worded and filled with the right buzzwords to slip under the radar, that nonetheless carry deeply harmful implications if you examine the trail of thought for too long. But I've also seen people get put on blacklists for not making their point perfectly clear, despite a long documented history of supporting trans people (or sometimes even being trans themselves!) Its just a really fucking tough situation to be in, I think

[thecoolerliauditore]

I think big issue rw/by has just as a show is it being confused with its own identity. It wants to say it's a feel-good shounen-esque good vs evil hopepunk love triumphs all story but at the same time it desperately keeps wanting to put its characters into moral quandaries with no clear correct answer.

So you end up with weird situations like with ironwood and the white fang where a character makes a decision to do something and the story seems to be trying to convince you that was the Wrong decision and Evil and Bad while you as the viewer is left there going is it really? Is it?

It wants to be mob psycho but it can't help but ask questions like "hey do you think extremist groups are okay when it comes to minorities asking for equality? and would the minorities being catgirls change anything" and I'm over here with my popcorn and anime theme song going I dunno man, I just work here please leave me alone

[tj-crochets]

Hey y'all, weird question time again! Is there anyway to word "I appreciate how unintimidating and unthreatening you are being" as a compliment that does not sound at all like an insult? One of my doctors is the absolute best at it, and I genuinely think it must be a skill he's deliberately cultivated, but I cannot figure out how to word it in a way that doesn't sound slightly insulting. Like, it's a good thing! A very good thing, especially in a doctor! But I cannot figure out how to word it in a way that conveys that

[sejarcus-archive]

Sejanus is like Chappell Roan in the sense that he was only ever meant to be loved by queer people, but it got out of hand, and now there’s way too many cishets who don’t get him, expressing opinions about him.

Sejanus I’m sorry that your character keeps getting absolutely murdered and turned into everything you’re not, just cause a bunch of straight girls wanna fuck the actor who played you in that horrible adaptation, and keep projecting their fantasies onto you, and aside from how bad that is, they won’t even admit the objective truth that the actor was actually a terrible pick for you and he doesn’t fit you at all

[hana-bobo-finch]

a strange trend in my favorite characters I realize is that I tend to heavily gravitate toward somewhat obscure, antagonistic forces

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

Of my 2% capacity to be attracted to anyone, my type is like 90% women, 5% pretty men and 5% men you would swear are super fucking manly, and never questioned being straight and cis, but are now suddenly *stressed* that they can't figure out why their attraction to me [fully socially interpreted as a woman and labelled that way up until relatively recently] feels incredibly fucking gay

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

At The Feet Of The Sun

book 2 in a slow paced high fantasy duology*

the right hand of the emperor (who is off searching for an heir) struggles with what to do after passing on his responsibilities and also discovering various pieces of information that are mindblowing to him, personally,

after adventure is thrust upon him, he travels to find His Radiancy and they go on some otherworldly adventures while growing closer and figuring out the nature of their friendship

(*there’s extra novellas & i think another book coming? duology adjacent, currently,)

[redgearsmovin]

Rambling about headcanons for the Movers' & Nina's parents!

Rich -

Rich's dad is a coach, so no doubt that's how Rich got involved in sports. From the dad episode, we see that his dad is a decisive person, making plans and strategising, so that likely contributed alot to Rich's leadership skills. I also think he is kind but quite strict, so as a kid Rich was taught to train a lot (for sports especially) and maybe sometimes push/challenge himself (in a healthy way at least).

Rich's mom we know of she likes sailboats, and from her picture, I get the vibe of a someone who is refined (?) or maybe an arts connoisseur. I think is where Rich got his more creative and artistic side. He follows his mom in how she likes taking care of her appearance, and her charismatic personality.

Scott -

Both of Scott's parents are creative people, with his mom I headcanon to be a writer or poet (because her love of poetry) and his dad.. idk if he is a puppeteer or puppetmaker but he seems like a gentleman that enjoys going to theatre performances or something (he does have kind of like opera binoculars). I think they are very gentle parents with Scott, and his mom especially dotes on him (?) with how she'd hold his hand when he is scared and all that. They are kind of protective parents, so they were very relieved when Scott made very good friends and is able to live well without them.

Smitty -

Smitty's dad is like an adventurer or explorer (?) of some sort idk, could be some sort of zoologist. Very obvious where Smitty's love and knowledge for nature and the outdoors comes from.

I know less of Smitty's mom other than she loves to cook, so I headcanon that she is a volunteer for animal shelter or nature conservation things like that, so Smitty is used to handling with animals. His mom is also a great cook, and he learned to bake fairly well from her. And I guess his cowboy side (?) comes from his mom rather than his dad, so idk if they've in the countryside ?

Dave -

It seems like being an inventor is a family thing, with Dave's dad being a professor and his uncle being an inventor too. With that I wonder if Dave felt some sort of pressure in being one. As in, he is in the line of great inventors and he feels the need to achieve that level of greatness (?) as well. I don't think his family pressures him, but it's more to Dave himself wanting to meet that expectation that he sees in others, since he was pretty gifted/smart kid growing up.

Dave's mom likes gardening, and maybe I could headcanon her to be a gardener florist or something, but she feels like a homemaker to me ? idk lol, I think she likes knitting and crafting, and is active in joining communities for that sort of hobby. Idk when Dave got his hat but I just like to think that his mom got it for him. How and where? idk maybe from a magical shop at a magical place like 123 Cherry Tree Lane lol. Also I think Dave's witty (?) or snarkiness (?) comes from his mom haha.

Nina -

At the moment, I headcanon her mom to be Hawaiian and her dad to be Boreovian (Knit Knots's brother, maybe younger). It might change once I figure out about it later tho. Her mom is fun-loving and her dad was kind of a boring person like knit knots but with curiousity for excitement (?), and had then become a more fun person especially after meeting Nina's mom. Her dad and Knit Knots are close and keep in touch, and Nina is close to her uncle because of that. I also think her dad still has an appreciation for boring stuff.

For her mom, a lot of things I think would be covered in the mom episode and episodes about Hawaii. Like, her mom likes yoyos, fluffy things, and just in general a cute-loving person. Nina takes a lot from her mom with her cheery and friendly personality, and she follows her dad in being prepared (?) way ahead.