#i'm making an entirely different set right now

[joequiinn]

The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | epilogue

[chap seventeen] | [all chapters here]

Story Summary: You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

notes & tropes: fem reader, slooow burn, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, dysfunctional family dynamics, idiots-to-lovers, smut & nsfw themes

a/n: Well, we've finally made it, everyone, and I'm feeling emotional about it. This epilogue is just a lil something I thought up while I was considering what the future would hold for Eddie and ice princess, and I love it dearly.

wc: 3.2k

Epilogue

September 1985

I want to be somewhere big and interesting. New York, L.A.… fuck, even Florida for all I care, I just want out of Hawkins, out of this town.” “Then I guess we’ll be those high school sweethearts that run off to L.A. together after graduation, huh?” “Oh, I’m sure.”

September 1987

Eddie should’ve been home by now. You’d memorized his work schedule within his first week of starting at VIP Records, so you knew his shift always ended at 6pm on Tuesdays - so where the hell was he? It was nearly 8:30, and you’d been getting more and more antsy as the minutes ticked by, worrying over what could possibly be delaying him like this.

So much had happened in the two years since you and Eddie began dating back in Hawkins - your world had changed so much that sometimes you felt like a completely different person. It started with some big things, like reintroducing Eddie to your parents and begging them to start fresh with him - though your father resolved to never show any warmth to your boyfriend, at least your mother was kinder.

You decide that you wouldn’t be going to college following graduation, instead wanting to take a year to work, which was yet another thing your father didn’t warm to. Somewhere amidst that decision and the subsequent string of arguments that followed, you found yourself spending more nights with Eddie and Wayne than you did with your own parents, until one day you realized you had informally moved into the Munson home. So, by the end of summer ‘86, you were out of your parents’ house and working full-time to save up for whatever may come next (and to pay rent, despite Wayne’s insistence that it was entirely unnecessary).

You weren’t sure who proposed the idea first, but you and Eddie had decided one day that you were going to move out to California. Initially, this was just some fantasy for the two of you, something to give you hope that you’d hightail it out of Hawkins one day, but over time that fantasy started to look more and more real until finally you agreed that maybe the idea wasn’t half bad at all.

So, you began to set aside more cash, began to look into neighborhoods and cities around Los Angeles, began to tell everyone that the two of you would be leaving town soon enough. No one really believed you at first - all your friends were in support of the idea, but they didn’t think it was particularly realistic. And when you mentioned it on one of the very rare occasions you saw your parents anymore, your father had the gall to laugh right in your face. That, of course, only bolstered your resolve to get the hell out of Indiana, and a lot of your freetime was slowly consumed with library visits to figure out how exactly to make this move happen.

You and Eddie finally made the leap a few months back, spending a couple weeks road tripping your way across the country, finally arriving in Los Angeles with only your most important earthly belongings and little else. Leaving Hawkins had been harder than you expected - leaving Wayne being the hardest - but you found California to be utterly refreshing, to fit you almost like a glove.

After living out of a hotel for a while, you found this cozy little apartment down in Long Beach, and you’d been content ever since; sure, it wasn’t perfect and the neighborhood wasn’t impressive, but it was your space, and that made it just right for you and Eddie. You both got jobs to hold you over for a while, you started visiting bars and venues, hell, you even found a stray cat that you quickly adopted without a second thought.

You’d been leaving the dollar theater after seeing a re-release of Labyrinth when the little calico found you - something about the film, and David Bowie, had totally mesmerized you when it came out the year prior, and Eddie was happy to take you to the special showing that night. So, when this cat approached you curiously and began weaving playfully between Eddie’s ankles, you were both immediately smitten. You named the cat Sir Didymus only to discover it was female a few weeks later, but it suited her rascally personality just fine, and thus her name stuck.

And now here you were, five months into your new California life and driving yourself crazy over where the hell Eddie was and why he was late to return home.

You called the record store and asked if maybe he was working late and forgot to mention it, but his coworker informed you that Eddie clocked out right on schedule; he mentioned that Eddie seemed eager to leave, but didn’t have any further information for you. On the one hand, it made you worry that something had happened, but on the other, you were annoyed that he had possibly made plans without telling you, as unlikely as that may be.

You’d tried to think of all the places in town that he could have gone to, but nothing seemed particularly viable - he wouldn’t have gone to a show without you, wouldn’t have gone to the store without you, wouldn’t have gone anywhere without you. Not unless he was keeping some kind of secret, but you couldn’t fathom what that might be.

Considering that today was your birthday, you had originally thought maybe he was making a special stop to get you flowers or a cake or a last minute gift; it was so like Eddie to do that, even after you insisted he didn’t need to get you anything at all. But once 7 o’clock hit, and then 7:30, and then 8pm, you began to doubt this original line of thought and assume the worst instead. 

Decidedly, a few minutes past 8, you’d thrown on one of Eddie’s sweaters and your shoes, and made the short trek down to the convenience store on the corner - the two of you were in there practically every day, so maybe one of the employees had seen him. The familiar night clerks greeted you, but when you asked about Eddie’s whereabouts, they didn’t have a clue, which made your worries grow even more. As if to put your mind at ease, they gave you a free 6-pack and said they’d call you if they saw him.

You returned back to the apartment to Sir Didymus crying for dinner, which made you realize you forgot to set out food for her earlier. Cursing to yourself, you filled her bowl and began to pace nervously, trying to consider where the hell Eddie could be. Did you forget about a show that he had previously mentioned? Or was he hit by a fucking truck? Maybe he got caught up chatting with a customer like he was one to do, or maybe he got fucking mugged. All possibilities were on the table, and you hated each and every one of them for causing you such worry and distress.

Prying open a window, you crawled onto the fire escape and lit a cigarette, hands shaky with anxiety as you pressed it to your lips. The night was relatively quiet for your neighborhood, which wasn’t saying much - there were always cars cruising up and down the road, music blasting from a nearby bar, and people constantly arguing in alleyways and backyards. But the noise was soothing in its way, reminding you that the world was constantly in motion and that Eddie was probably just caught up in it all.

Sir Didymus came to sit beside you, meowing as if she, too, was wondering where the hell Eddie was and why he wasn’t back home. You considered throwing on some clothes to go searching for him, but aside from the bar and the convenience store, there was nowhere in the area that he would be; moments like these made you wish you two hadn’t sold your car, because it would’ve been really convenient to have right about now.

Each time you heard tires screeching or saw headlights shining down the road, you craned your neck to get a better look, but it was never Eddie. You’d already nervously polished off two cigarettes and were lighting up a third; Sir Didymus had retired to sleeping on the pile of blankets that she commandeered within a few days of moving in.

As you were caught up in your anxious thoughts, you thought you’d heard metal music from somewhere nearby, muffled and far off, but it caused your ears to perk; when you realized that it was specifically a Dio song playing, you immediately shot to your feet, clambering back through the window while dropping your cigarette into the ashtray.

Without bothering to slip on shoes, you rushed out onto the breezeway connecting all the little apartments in your complex, gripping the rails as you tried to find the source of the music, which was obviously louder from this side of the building. The street in front of your complex was crowded with cars, so if the music was Eddie’s, he must have had to park way down the block; eventually, the music stopped, and you became more anxious by the second.

When finally you spotted Eddie walking up the sidewalk towards the gate, you all but rushed down the stairs to meet him halfway; Eddie smiled largely, clearly not able to make out your concern under the flickering lights illuminating the path. A glare grew in your eyes as you realized he looked just fine; in fact, it seemed he stopped by the store, if the grocery bag in his hand was anything to go on. He held up his arms to greet you, but before he could get a word out, you hissed while jabbing him in the chest.

“Where the hell have you been?” Your eyes were alight with panicked concern, and you didn’t realize until that moment that you were on the verge of relieved tears. You swallowed, determined to hold them back, “It’s almost 9 o’clock, Eddie, I was worried out of my fucking mind.”

Eddie’s face fell, arms drooping at his sides; he didn’t expect you to have gotten so worked up over him not returning on time. He thought he could surprise you, that he could do something nice for your birthday, but the utter panic in your expression told him otherwise. He dipped his head down towards yours, hoping that he could sooth all the stress that had bubbled up inside you.

“I should’ve called--”

“No shit.”

Eddie clenched his jaw a little, taking a breath - he wasn’t about to get upset with you, he wouldn’t let himself, “Let’s go upstairs, okay?”

The impulsive side of you wanted to argue with him right here and now, wanted to grill him about why he didn’t come home and what he was doing. The more patient part of you, however, held back, shaky breaths heaving in your chest as you nodded with a twisted expression. You spun around on your heels and marched up the stairs, crossing your arms with a scowl; Sir Didymus sat just outside your open door, curiously waiting for you both.

Following just a step behind you, Eddie sighed to himself as he took in your rigid posture, realizing that he should’ve thought this through - after all, since your move to Long Beach, the two of you were essentially attached at the hip, doing absolutely any and everything together. Of course you would worry when he didn’t come home, when he didn’t call or give you a heads up - but, again, he’d just been hoping to surprise you, and hadn’t considered that a few hours would get you as stressed as you were now.

Back in the apartment, you took large strides towards the open window and retrieved your cigarette from the ashtray. To calm yourself down, you began to pace, watching as Eddie closed the door behind him and waited there a moment as if to collect his thoughts; when he turned to face you, you quickly looked away and took a deep drag.

“God, Eddie, I’m trying not to be mad, okay, I was just so worried and I thought maybe there was something you were keeping from me or that maybe you were in an accident or even dead in a fucking ditch, and I know it’s ridiculous to get so worked up over only a few hours but--”

“You can be mad.” He interrupted the inevitable rambling that was about to commence.

You had always struggled to express emotions considering the household you grew up in, so these past two years with Eddie had been a learning experience for you, which led to your feelings often spilling over when they became overwhelming. You shot him a confused look, still struggling to this day with the idea that it was okay to feel something; you bit your tongue so that you wouldn’t keep babbling, trying to collect your thoughts.

“I should’ve told you where I was,” Eddie started, walking the short distance from the front door to the kitchen, gently dropping the grocery bag atop the counter, “but I wanted to surprise you.”

You laughed smally, feeling stupid for getting so worried over seemingly nothing. Shaking your head, you took a deep drag from the cigarette and turned to face the window, eyes unfocused as you looked around. You dropped your head, beginning to feel more and more stupid the more that you thought about it; you could hear Eddie coming up slowly behind you.

“Get out of your head,” He instructed gently, to which you laughed again, “You’re probably already kicking yourself, am I right? As if you did something wrong?”

You narrowed your eyes at his reflection in the window - fuck, he knew you too well. Slowly, you turned to face him again, but you kept your gaze on the floor. Eddie took another couple steps closer, waiting for you to eventually look up at him.

“I’m sorry, princess.” He said simply, and the pet name nearly caused you to smile fondly; even after all this time, it stuck, and you figured it wasn’t going anywhere. You could tell in his voice that Eddie saw you resisting to grin, “I should’ve called, I just got caught up in the surprise.”

The corner of your mouth pulled up, and you looked at Eddie carefully through your lashes; his smile was gentle and sweet, eyes far more adoring than you thought you really deserved. Swallowing your trepidation, you asked smally, “What surprise?”

Eddie’s smile grew larger as he cocked his head, “Your dual birthday-anniversary surprise.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, relief slowly relaxing your shoulders as you took a final small inhale of the cigarette before tossing it out the window, “My birthday is not our real anniversary and you know it.”

You smiled fondly at the memory of meeting each other at that picnic table behind the football field, at the crazy fake dating scheme you had that ultimately led you to where you were now. It felt like a lifetime again that senior year happened, and yet it still felt as if it was only yesterday.

“So maybe we have two anniversaries.” Eddie teased fondly, his eyes taking you in as if you were still a breath of fresh air to him. Under those soft, adoring eyes, you could feel your ears growing hot even still.

You sighed affectionately with a shake of your head, crossing your arms as a gust of wind came up through the window; being near the beach, the air was always unexpectedly cold at night. As you took in the always pleasant sight of Eddie, you realized he had a bandage just above his collarbone, which caused your brow to furrow with concern as you looked between it and his face.

“What happened?” You asked, closing the gap between you two so you could worry over whatever the hell was on his neck; you wondered if maybe he nicked himself shaving, but the bandage seemed far too large for that. Did he hurt himself at work?

As you reached for the bandage, Eddie laughed, capturing your wrists in his hands before you could touch his neck. You met his eyes with confusion, to which he simply shook his head.

“That’s the surprise.”

Your expression deadpanned, “You getting hurt is the surprise? Geez, babe, how romantic.”

Eddie laughed again, fondly rolling his eyes, “Not hurt in the way that you think.”

Clearly enjoying your confusion, Eddie released your grip and reached for the bandage, hissing a little as he tried to gently peel it off. Your jaw dropped in both surprise and confusion at the injury beneath it, not prepared for what it would be.

It was a tattoo, though that wasn’t the surprising part, considering that Eddie was slowly becoming covered in them. No, what took you aback was that the tattoo was quite clearly your lips, done in a shade almost identical to the lipstick color you’d been trying just the day before. You stared dumbly at it, as if you couldn’t quite compute it, as if you didn’t quite think it was real.

When you finally managed to draw your gaze back up to Eddie’s face, he was smiling from ear-to-ear, eyes twinkling with clear delight at your stunned expression. You opened and closed your mouth a couple of times as you tried to find your voice again, eyes rapidly looking back and forth from the tattoo to his face and back again.

“You… got a tattoo for me?” Your tone was one of disbelief; saying it out loud made the moment more real, and suddenly your throat felt tight as if you could cry.

Eddie nodded with pride, “You like it?”

You stared at the replica of your lips, recalling the evening prior when you’d been testing out make-up samples that you’d gotten from work. Eddie always enjoyed watching you apply make-up, and of course lipstick was his favorite part; when he commented on a shade that he seemed particularly fond of, you leaned over and planted a loud, silly kiss at the base of his neck.

Considering that you crawled out of bed hours before him to get to your shift at the make-up counter, you didn’t see whether or not he’d ever cleaned the lipstick off; evidently, he must have worn it like a badge of pride all day until he could finally get down to the tattoo parlor and make it permanent.

Shaking yourself from your reverie, you looked at Eddie lovingly, your eyes a little more wet; god, you’d gotten so much more emotional since he entered your life, it was nearly ridiculous. Or maybe you’d just become more vulnerable, far less skilled at holding back when it was just the two of you alone.

You cupped his cheeks gently, being extra careful not to go near the fresh tattoo, “God, I love you.”

The smile he gave you was dazzling, mesmerizing even, “I love you, princess.”

You drew his lips down to yours, resting your forehead gently to his; Eddie hummed contently, whispering a tender “happy birthday” against your lips before kissing you fiercely.

.

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addt. a/n: I'll try to keep this short and sweet. Thank you to everyone who has read this fic and watched it grow, to those that have been commenting and messaging with each update, and to all the incredibly fic writers I've met through this story! And, of course, a HUGE THANK YOU to my dear @eddiernunson for being so invested - you've helped me developed so many ideas, and it's truly warmed my heart to see someone else love the ice princess as much as I do <3 If anyone would like to be tagged in any future outings these two may have in store, please let me know!

@3rd-conchord @a-queen-blr @adelalaaa @adversary713 @avalon-wolf

@costellation-hunter @daisy-munson @daisyridleyss @damon-loves-pie @damp4eddie

@dreamerjj @eddiernunson @feralgoblinbabe @frogtape @fromasgardandback

@fckyeahlames @graciehams @kellsck @kthomps914 @littlexdeaths

@lotrefcp @love-anonymous-writer @marrowfrog00 @maskofmirrors @mewchiili

@miaajaade @miss-celestial-being @mmmunson @moonisu @munsonssweets

@no-bueno-writer @nxrdamp @ollieolive @rach5ive @sapphire4082

@sav12321 @seatbacksandtraytables @sheneedsrocknroll92 @steeldaisies @stormgrl19

@teethvenom @tvserie-s-world @twihard28 @urlivingdeadgirl @v1per1ne

@wefracturedmotivation @welcometohellsock @whats-my-question @xxsxdghxstxx

[la-pheacienne]

I hope this doesn’t come across as rude, but I was looking through your Lyanna/Rhaegar tag, and I struggle with this pairing. I enjoy it sometimes, but a few things just don’t add up for me. It’s often framed as Lyanna leaving of her own agency and Rhaegar choosing love over duty, but realistically, it feels like he unintentionally set her up to fail. I say this due to the North being largely isolated from the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. So, while Lyanna probably had some idea of southern dynamics—especially since she was about to marry into a southern family—understanding them is one thing, but actually navigating that world would be completely different. Ultimately, Lyanna would have a hard time thriving. I personally don’t think they got married, so if they had survived, she would have borne the brunt of it—her reputation ruined, potentially raising a child viewed as a bastard and a potential threat. Even if Rhaegar stayed committed, what if he eventually fell out of love or died? She would have no inheritance, and her security would be entirely dependent on Rhaegar and his family’s favor. She could return to her own family (if they weren’t declared traitors), but she’d still have to rely on them. She’s never truly independent; it’s like she left one cage only to enter another, all in the name of love. And it seems as if her agency doesn’t extend beyond that single choice. Logically, this just doesn’t sit right with me. It’s still a compelling story, but I don’t think Lyanna would thrive in this situation if they survived.

This is a continuation of my previous ask. Let’s look at this a bit more critically. In canon, Rhaegar takes Lyanna to the Tower of Joy in Dorne, guarded by three Kingsguard. Now, why would he do that? Dorne is HIS wife’s homeland, yet he brings Lyanna to the opposite end of the country, to his wife’s territory. Paired with the three Kingsguard, it seems likely he did this because he saw Lyanna as a flight risk. Rhaegar controlled whether she stayed or left. He even controlled her basic needs—her food, shelter, safety, clothing. She had no money to secure these things independently, and the Kingsguard weren’t loyal to her; they answered only to Rhaegar. Now, I do believe Lyanna left consensually, but to her own detriment. Even if she attempted to escape, she’d have little chance of surviving the Dornish desert, and that’s assuming she could even find help. Let’s say she did make it out of the desert—she’d then be in Dorne, likely pregnant with the child of the Dornish princess’s husband, in the middle of a rebellion. Do you really think the Dornish would sympathize and help her return? Her family had been declared traitors, and Dorne was loyal to the crown. They would most likely refuse to assist her and certainly wouldn’t help her get back. Lyanna Stark had no real agency. She might have felt free in moments, and perhaps things between them were good enough that she didn’t question it at the time. But it’s hard to believe Rhaegar didn’t understand this dynamic on some level. Why not take her to Dragonstone, his own property? There, he had full control without the complexities of hiding her in his wife’s homeland.

You don't come across as rude at all. But I'm afraid I can't help you much with this.

I'm not saying there is no power imbalance between a crown prince and a 16 yo high born maiden, I just don't think the parameter of power imbalance between them plays/will play a significant role in the way the story unfolds. I don't think the author had that in mind and I don't think the complexity/nuance of Rhaegar and Lyanna's situation stems from that. The dynamic you are describing, one of a predator and a prey, isn't particularly nuanced or rich to me, it's basically just Robert's take with a feminist twist. You can absolutely read the story like that, but I don't. The way I see it, Lyanna was betrothed to a piece of shit and she knew that, she met Rhaegar who was the antithesis of her betrothed, they bonded, they fell in love, she wanted him, she chose him and she ran away with him and stayed with him until the very end. That was her agency. It sucks that the social norms in universe would never let them be happy together, for the reasons you state. But that is a tragedy that stems from external factors (traditions, socia conventions and moral code), not something that can be attributed to Rhaegar specifically, imo. That is a reason for the reader to feel sorry for the couple, not necessarily criticize their decision. Also, you repeatedly state how Lyanna could not possibly thrive in this situation while forgetting Lyanna's circumstances prior to her meeting Rhaegar. Lyanna running away with a man she chose is precisely her exerting her agency, which fits with her wilful personality the way Ned portrays it. Whether we ideologically agree with this or not, for women in this pseudomedieval context, choosing their own lover/husband against their families wishes is the best marker of independence, and it is considered as such in the collective consciousness that the author is probably tapping into, at least to my understanding. In this context the choice of a partner is not just any choice and Lyanna's arc being so tightly linked to that choice does not diminsh her character to my eyes. Her story has truth to me even if it doesn't satisfy some generic requirements of media portrayal of female empowerment.

If we absolutely have to get all technical then no, Lyanna did not have a full time job, health insurance or social security. I technically can't disagree with you on that, I just don't personally find it interesting or relevant.

"Dorne is HIS wife’s homeland, yet he brings Lyanna to the opposite end of the country, to his wife’s territory. Paired with the three Kingsguard, it seems likely he did this because he saw Lyanna as a flight risk".

That is a guess. I have my own. Since we are so meticulous with the in universe details, let me just say that we don't actually know what the KG were doing with Lyanna. Were they keeping her imprisoned because of the "flight risk", or were they protecting her from her dumbass brother who wanted to hand her over like a trophy to his dumbass abusive and rapist BFF, a man she had already specifically declared she did not want or appreciate and who happened to be hunting her down? (We coincidentally see Ned regret his decision to arrange Lyanna's marriage to Robert for an entire book btw). Were they keeping her imprisoned or were they protecting her from Aerys who would probably want to capture her like he captured Elia and her kids? Many questions. Also, why did they hide in Dorne? Because Rhaegar knew Lyanna had nowhere to go in a 'hostile" Dorne in case she wanted to escape, or because Elia was already in the know and Dorne was loyal to Rhaegar and remained loyal to Rhaegar even after Elia's death so he knew that Lyanna would be better protected there? Idk, these are just blind guesses. So many possibilities, and you choose the most boring one.

Also, the what ifs do not interest me. "What if Rhaegar fell out of love", but that didn't happen in the story we're reading. Rhaegar is not a real person. He is a fictional character in a fictional story with specific plot points and a specific ending, serving as a vehicle for a broader theme. And grrm didn't write about a man who fell out of love and dumbed his lover in the middle of the desert. If he wanted to write that story he would have. Instead, he wrote about a man who died because he fell in love. So I'd rather focus on that since that's what actually happened.

The way I see it, you're trying to say that this pairing is not supposed to be a love story because of the power imbalance/Rhaegar's callousness/Lyanna's recklessness but what you truly mean is "I personally do not care about any of the major themes that are at play with this fictional couple because I personally can't forget/forgive/put aside their power imbalance/Rhaegar's callousness/Lyanna's recklessness which I believe are more important and overshadow the general themes of this story ". To that I disagree.

[mrs-steve-harrington]

[icewindandboringhorror]

Some fantasy traveler inventory details (like what they would carry in their bags), based on two of the recent costumes I did.. love finding random little scraps and items and putting them together lol

[violet-traitor]

One of my red flags (? Is that the right term to use) is probably the fact that I want my ocs to be happy and have good relationships, which takes away the funny and the interesting. The trauma is there but I won't rest unless they have a good ending. Would it be more interesting if the ending was bad? Surely. Do I have the guts to do it? Absolutely not. Wouldn't it be interesting for 2 of my ocs to have a toxic relationship whose themes are explored and made interesting? Yes but I'll be sad if my character and their significant other aren't all cutesy and happy with one another. I would be making an antagonist/villain with the idea that my characters will finally dislike someone, but then I feel bad for them, give them a redemption arc and throw them in the main group. They're all friends now. In the early stages of a story I am making a character used to be the main villain set out to conquer the world (don't comment on it I was 12) and now he's a very innocent and sensitive person

[sysig]

Working some more on this Weird Little Guy (Patreon)

[bookwyrminspiration]

greetings. i have a Pronouns Question: you have it/whatever in your bio. Is it/its what you'd prefer to be mainly used, or do you like all pronouns with a slightly higher proportion of it/its, or? what's the pronoun situation here?

Salutations! I have a Pronouns Answer. It's whatever. You can use any and all pronouns to refer to me, whatever you feel like using. I'm more of a no pronouns person, but I know that can be inconvenient grammatically to do and since I don't feel a connection to any pronouns, I don't mind what you use, so take your pick.

If you want to pick one and only use that, that's fine. If you want to use every conceivable pronoun under the sun at the same time, that's also fine. Somewhere in between? Also fine. Do what you like! Outsourcing it to others to choose feels similar enough to me to having none that I'm comfortable with it, at least for the time being

I have specifically highlighted it/its because I do have more of a fondness for those than others, but it's not too strong of a preference. I'm just as comfortable as a he or a xe or a fae or something else as with it/its. And it is fun to have a mix, so don't feel like you have to use it just because I'm more fond of it/its.

If we're getting more specific, she/her is my most meh, as I always wonder if people are misunderstanding my identity when using them--though that feeling may improve with time. So I avoid those in real life socially, but on here? For people like my mutuals and who understand more about my gender? Go for it! They are still 100% on the table and can be used--better if used in tandem with others because then I know you know more about my identity and aren't putting me in a box, but at the end of the day? They're pronouns for other people to use and not my problem. I use I/me, people who need to refer to me can sort out how they want to refer to me for themself and I don't mind what they pick.

That's a long way of saying i like it/its, but I don't feel a true connection to any particular pronoun or the idea of pronouns in general, but since no pronouns can be inconvenient you may refer to me however you wish :)

[loumauve]

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[rivilu]

The more I think about the story through Daeran's pov the more insane i go. btw.

[phantomrose96]

Tumblr can never be my main means of engaging in politics and it comes down almost entirely to Tumblr's pathological need to distill The Right Opinion:tm: from any complicated issue.

It's always the most important thing. Not because it helps solve the issue or helps the people impacted, but because The Right Opinion:tm: is a proxy for you, morally, as a person. And every issue needs to be broken into the language that sets the stances of Make You Good or Make You Bad.

And I don't mean this in any generic statement about echo chambers or virtue signaling. Those are separate but related concepts. What I'm talking about is how people are nervous about a topic until one doctrine is crafted which defines the Sports Team Color of our Sports Team, so we can be identified as being on the Us Sports Team, and absolutely not on the Them Sports Team. Because this issue is actually about you and the proxy for you as a person and how people should perceive you so, really, the sooner we figure out the Home Sports Team Colors the sooner you can stop feeling worried.

The moment something new happens is usually the first and last time you'll actually see a range of opinions on it. And some of that is fueled by misinformation! Some in bad faith! When dust settles and clarity is achieved, this helps combat those things, but it's also the moment when the Loudest and most Articulate voices craft the Zeitgeist Opinion and everyone comes to roost around it.

You get people on this site pissed off at AI models that can diagnose cancer from a research paper in 2019 because The Right Opinion is that AI is bad. If you even see a post trying to articulate good uses of AI, well that's someone wearing Packers colors at a Vikings home game, and if you wanna make a point in the "wrong" direction you better be damn articulate about it.

A well-defined set of actions are transphobic. Another set are actually not transphobic, and you'd be transphobic for thinking so. Are you trans and actually your lived experiences differ? Get articulate real fast or shut up. You might be able to eek an exception for yourself, but it's going to require a 10-paragraph post justifying your claim. If you're REALLY good at it though, you might be able to rewrite the Zeitgeist and now anyone who disagrees with you is transphobic. Teams switch uniform styles every now and then, after all.

And it's such a farce because so often it's not actually about the topic at hand. It's about why you should be allowed to be perceived as a good person while toeing outside the fringes of The Right Opinion, why you aren't actually quitting the faith or committing blasphemy or deserving of exile for going off the written word. Or if someone really IS trying to make it about the topic at hand, the ensuing slapfight in the comments needs to be about whether OP has sinned against the covenant.

It's not helpful.

[burntoutdaydreamer]

Things That May Be Causing Your Writer's Block- and How to Beat Them

I don't like the term 'Writer's Block' - not because it isn't real, but because the term is so vague that it's useless. Hundreds of issues all get lumped together under this one umbrella, making writer's block seem like this all-powerful boogeyman that's impossible to beat. Worse yet, it leaves people giving and receiving advice that is completely ineffective because people often don't realize they're talking about entirely different issues.

In my experience, the key to beating writer's block is figuring out what the block even is, so I put together a list of Actual Reasons why you may be struggling to write:

(note that any case of writer's block is usually a mix of two or more)

Perfectionism (most common)

What it looks like:

You write one sentence and spend the next hour googling "synonyms for ___"

Write. Erase. Write. Rewrite. Erase.

Should I even start writing this scene when I haven't figured out this one specific detail yet?

I hate everything I write

Cringing while writing

My first draft must be perfect, or else I'm a terrible writer

Things that can help:

Give yourself permission to suck

Keep in mind that nothing you write is going to be perfect, especially your first draft

Think of writing your first/early drafts not as writing, but sketching out a loose foundation to build upon later

People write multiple drafts for a reason: write now, edit later

Stop googling synonyms and save that for editing

Write with a pen to reduce temptation to erase

Embrace leaving blank spaces in your writing when you can't think of the right word, name, or detail

It's okay if your writing sucks. We all suck at some point. Embrace the growth mindset, and focus on getting words on a page

Lack of inspiration (easiest to fix)

What it looks like:

Head empty, no ideas

What do I even write about???

I don't have a plot, I just have an image

Want to write but no story to write

Things that can help:

Google writing prompts

If writing prompts aren't your thing, instead try thinking about what kind of tropes/genres/story elements you would like to try out

Instead of thinking about the story you would like to write, think about the story you would like to read, and write that

It's okay if you don't have a fully fleshed out story idea. Even if it's just an image or a line of dialogue, it's okay to write that. A story may or may not come out of it, but at least you got the creative juices flowing

Stop writing. Step away from your desk and let yourself naturally get inspired. Go for a walk, read a book, travel, play video games, research history, etc. Don't force ideas, but do open up your mind to them

If you're like me, world-building may come more naturally than plotting. Design the world first and let the story come later

Boredom/Understimulation (lost the flow)

What it looks like:

I know I should be writing but uugggghhhh I just can'tttttt

Writing words feels like pulling teeth

I started writing, but then I got bored/distracted

I enjoy the idea of writing, but the actual process makes me want to throw my laptop out the window

Things that can help:

Introduce stimulation: snacks, beverages, gum, music such as lo-fi, blankets, decorate your writing space, get a clickity-clackity keyboard, etc.

Add variety: write in a new location, try a new idea/different story for a day or so, switch up how you write (pen and paper vs. computer) or try voice recording or speech-to-text

Gamify writing: create an arbitrary challenge, such as trying to see how many words you can write in a set time and try to beat your high score

Find a writing buddy or join a writer's group

Give yourself a reward for every writing milestone, even if it's just writing a paragraph

Ask yourself whether this project you're working on is something you really want to be doing, and be honest with your answer

Intimidation/Procrastination (often related to perfectionism, but not always)

What it looks like:

I was feeling really motivated to write, but then I opened my laptop

I don't even know where to start

I love writing, but I can never seem to get started

I'll write tomorrow. I mean next week. Next month? Next month, I swear (doesn't write next month)

Can't find the time or energy

Unreasonable expectations (I should be able to write 10,000 words a day, right????)

Feeling discouraged and wondering why I'm even trying

Things that can help:

Follow the 2 min rule (or the 1 paragraph rule, which works better for me): whenever you sit down to write, tell yourself that you are only going to write for 2 minutes. If you feel like continuing once the 2 mins are up, go for it! Otherwise, stop. Force yourself to start but DO NOT force yourself to continue unless you feel like it. The more often you do this, the easier it will be to get started

Make getting started as easy as possible (i.e. minimize barriers: if getting up to get a notebook is stopping you from getting started, then write in the notes app of your phone)

Commit to a routine that will work for you. Baby steps are important here. Go with something that feels reasonable: every day, every other day, once a week, twice a week, and use cues to help you remember to start. If you chose a set time to write, just make sure that it's a time that feels natural to you- i.e. don't force yourself to writing at 9am every morning if you're not a morning person

Find a friend or a writing buddy you can trust and talk it out or share a piece of work you're proud of. Sometimes we just get a bit bogged down by criticism- either internal or external- and need a few words of encouragement

The Problem's Not You, It's Your Story (or Outline (or Process))

What it looks like:

I have no problems writing other scenes, it's just this scene

I started writing, but now I have no idea where I'm going

I don't think I'm doing this right

What's an outline?

Drowning in documents

This. Doesn't. Make. Sense. How do I get from this plot point to this one?!?!?! (this ColeyDoesThings quote lives in my head rent free cause BOY have I been there)

Things That Can Help:

Go back to the drawing board. Really try to get at the root of why a scene or story isn't working

A part of growing as a writer is learning when to kill your darlings. Sometimes you're trying to force an idea or scene that just doesn't work and you need to let it go

If you don't have an outline, write one

If you have an outline and it isn't working, rewrite it, or look up different ways to structure it

You may be trying to write as a pantser when you're really a plotter or vice versa. Experiment with different writing processes and see what feels most natural

Study story structures, starting with the three act structure. Even if you don't use them, you should know them

Check out Ellen Brock on YouTube. She's a professional novel editor who has a lot of advice on writing strategies for different types of writers

Also check out Savage Books on YouTube (another professional story editor) for advice on story structure and dialogue. Seriously, I cannot recommend this guy enough

Executive Dysfunction, Usually From ADHD/Autism

What it looks like:

Everything in boredom/understimulation

Everything in intimidation/procrastination

You have been diagnosed with and/or have symptoms of ADHD/Autism

Things that can help:

If you haven't already, seek a diagnosis or professional treatment

Hire an ADHD coach or other specialist that can help you work with your brain (I use Shimmer; feel free to DM me for a referral)

Seek out neurodiverse communities for advice and support

Try body doubling! There's lot's of free online body doubling websites out there for you to try. If social anxiety is a barrier, start out with writing streams such as katecavanaughwrites on Twitch

Be aware of any sensory barriers that may be getting in the way of you writing (such as an uncomfortable desk chair, harsh lighting, bad sounds)

And Lastly, Burnout, Depression, or Other Mental Illness

What it looks like:

You have symptoms of burnout or depression

Struggling with all things, not just writing

It's more than a lack of inspiration- the spark is just dead

Things that can help:

Forget writing for now. Focus on healing first.

Seek professional help

If you feel like it, use writing as a way to explore your feelings. It can take the form of journaling, poetry, an abstract reflection of your thoughts, narrative essays, or exploring what you're feeling through your fictional characters. The last two helped me rediscover my love of writing after I thought years of depression had killed it for good. Just don't force yourself to do so, and stop if it takes you to a darker place instead of feeling cathartic

[mariamlovesyou]

tuned into Plestia's live with Rahma Zein's second account (she got shadowbanned). key moments:

plestia talked about her adjustment to living in australia. "it's 1:30am now and it's normal for me and many palestinians who live abroad to be awake hours into the morning. i am scared of sleeping. because of the time difference, i'm scared if i sleep i will wake up to bad news. in gaza i was scared of the sound of the bombs, here i am scared of the quiet."

contacting family and friends in gaza is near impossible. "sometimes i feel like a crazy person, calling 20 times in a row hoping that on the 21st time the call might go through."

on the destruction of entire communities and neighbourhoods: "i'm scared when i go back to gaza i won't recognise it anymore. someone sent me a picture of my neighbourhood, and i couldn't tell it was mine at first. all my favourite places, cafes where the aunties used to give me extra food and ask about my day, have been destroyed. i dread looking at my gallery or seeing snapchat memories because most of these people in the pictures are no longer alive."

rahma asked plestia to talk about one story that stuck with her. plestia said "i remember walking one time on the 'safe corridor', that's what they called it anyway, and i saw an older woman clutching onto a donkey cart where her son's body was, refusing to let go of it. i asked my colleague what the smell was, he said it's dead bodies under the rubble. it was the first time i familiarised myself with the smell. the son's body was decaying and the woman told me about cats and animals eating away at it. i've had children talk to me about birds eating away at their parents' decomposing bodies and not being able to chase them away."

"it seems so silly to go to hospitals for minor sicknesses now. i can't even think about how many palestinian children are going to be terrified of hospitals now. there was a girl who was taken to the hospital to get treatment for injuries by one of the bombs, and while she was in the bathroom another bomb landed nearby. the impact from that sent the ceiling crashing down on her.. she got another injury while getting treated for her first one."

"i hate how people talk about our resilience - as if it's okay that this is happening to us. we are only surviving because we have to, because we have no other choice."

rahma brought up the way family homes are set up in palestine and asked plestia to elaborate. "basically, there are floors. someone will live on the ground floor, and then their married son lives with his children on the floor above them, and then their successors above them and so on. so when family homes are targeted, they wipe out entire families. many families officially no longer exist."

"i used to wear my journalist helmet and vest all the time, felt naked without it, even slept with the vest on sometimes until i realised it only made me more of a target. they didn't give me any protection, only headaches and back pain."

"i am an optimistic person, i loved covering sweet sentimental things, like at my graduation asking parents of top graduates how they feel about their children graduating. that's what i love reporting on. i wanted to cover things like that when i came back to gaza, show the beautiful side of gaza that the media didn't really show, but i didn't have the chance." "do you think they'll give you right of return?" "i can only hope."

plestia mentioned how hard it was being a journalist with limited access to the internet, charging facilities, no mics, lack of equipment and how difficult it was uploading things. rahma asked her what's one story that wasn't really recorded or posted due to these constraints; plestia said "the evacuations. sometimes they informed us about them, sometimes they didn't. you have no idea how hard it was, everyone looking for their family members, making sure every one was there, taking to the streets in 5 minutes and not knowing which way to go. i remember i went to my friend's house for shelter for 30 minutes before the first evacuation was announced and we ran to another family's house, stayed there for 2 days before another evacuation was announced. me, my friend, and that family all evacuated together to another family's house. there were already so many people there seeking shelter, it wasn't just one family staying there. none of us knew how long we had in any place."

before october 7th, palestinians were used to limitations on electricity. plestia used to plan her day's tasks around when the electricity was working. "for example when the electricity was on from 12 to 4, i would say i will do my laundry and charge the phones during this time. life wasn't exactly 'normal', but all of us pray to have those days back in comparison to what we are experiencing now." plestia also said that cars are running on cooking oil now because there is no fuel.

on hygiene: "many pregnant women have to give birth without any pain medication or medical attention. once we ran out of medicine, that was it. women who had to get C-sections couldn't stay to recover or get followup treatments because someone else needed the bed. we have no water, no tissues, no pads, barely any bathrooms. in the shelter schools you have to wait an hour before even getting to use the bathroom because of how many people are there."

"something you don't hear about is how many people die because of sadness. there's so many ways to die in gaza, because of the bombardment, because of starvation, the lack of resources, but i also know many elderly people who died because their hearts couldn't take it anymore. i have been in gaza before and lived through 4 aggressions, but nothing compared to this one."

a recurring sentiment that was echoed in the video: "sometimes i thought to myself: who am i recording this for? because we've already shown everything, we've already talked about everything. everything has already been said, the proof is everywhere, nothing i talked about today is new." rahma said the first video posted about what's happening in palestine should've been enough.

she is 22 today. plestia's closing words: don't stop talking about us, don't stop boycotting, don't stop protesting, please don't get bored of fighting for palestine.

[cherrynflowergarden]

disgusting(ly in love) || matt sturniolo

an; hiiii my loves how are y'all?? someone please give me some ideas for this i wanna make one for chris too:( this was originally supposed to be for 10 mins but i ran out of ideas and ended up making it 8 mins THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 400 FOLLOWERS I LOVE YOU ALL<33

summary; a youtube compilation of matt and yn being in love for 8 mins.

tagged; @t1llysblogs

matt was bored. and on youtube. having stumbled upon a video titled "MATT AND YN BEING DISGUSTING(LY IN LOVE)!!!??? tw happy couple (ew)" he decided he had nothing better to do than watch this.

clip one; sleeping beauties

the clip started with nick going down the stairs and screaming for matt. what he didn't know was yn, matt's girlfriend had stayed over.

expecting matt to be awake, he pushed the door open with his vlog camera on.

there laid matt and yn, all cuddled up on the bed. the blanket covered their tangled legs yet the way matt held his girl against his chest was enough to make everyone jealous of the couple. near them mr wrinkleton, matt's pug plushie and ms bubbles, yn's rabbit plushie cuddled too, almost making it look just like the couple in plushie forms.

a small laugh left nick, as he zoomed the camera into their faces.

clip two; twitch stream

matt was streaming on twitch with his brothers while his girlfriend went out on lunch with her friends.

coming back home, yn did not expect to hear shouts from each brother's room. assuming they were only playing video games with each other, she yelled "honeyyyyyy i'm homeeeeee" right as she entered in matt's room. not giving him any time to answer the girl skipped her way to her boyfriend and sat on his lap; all excited to tell him about the latest gossip session she had with her girls.

but that could wait for a while.

he looked so beautiful that she couldn't help but wrap her arms around his neck, giving a sweet kiss on his lips. pulling away she kissed his cheeks and mumbled "god you're so cute".

giggling softly, the boy pulled her face up and said "thank you baby" she was about to say something when chris screamed "OH MY VIRGIN EYES". laughing at the way her eyes got wide, matt explained "we're streaming baby"

clip three; birthday gift

sometimes yn vloged. since the triplets' birthday was coming soon, she decided to vlog the entire process of shopping for the brothers.

twelve minutes into the video, she was all set and ready with meaningful gifts for each brother. once she put all the gifts in separate bags for each brother, she smiled at the camera. "finally. it was such a tiring day. now only one thing is left to do. y'all remember the paints i brought? well we're doing a fun little craft." taking out the red and pink paints, she went to grab a plain black tshirt.

cutting a heart stencil out of a paper, she stuck the paper to the tshirt's back. applying the fabric paint on her lips she started kissing the cloth between the cutout paper heart. applying different shades of pink and red, she filled kisses in the shape of a heart. laughing at her now smudged 'lipstick' she showed the camera her now ready gift.

"gonna let it dry now. i think i will maybe do something in the front also. not sure. will keep you guys updated!!"

safe to say, matt loved his gift so much that he demanded another kiss tshirt so that he could wear her kisses every day.

clip four; beach

this was a short clip from the hawaii vlog. the triplets, yn, maddie and nate where walking to the beach near hotel. well not all of them were walking through.

yn decided she was too tired to walk today and matt being the absolute angel he is, let her to hop on his back as he carried the girl to the beach.

maddie had vlogged matt carrying his girl on his back, humming to whatever she had to say. the camera captured matt listening carefully to his girlfriend as she spoke animatedly about penguins. the last thing the camera captured was yn repeatedly kissing the boy's cheek as he smiled before chris pushed the couple claiming "it was sick to watch people in love"

clip five; beach again

this was a clip from the same vlog as the last. matt and yn were seen enjoying in the water. splashing water against eachother their joyous laughs could be heard.

suddenly matt lifted the girl up, enjoying her screams of fear. dropping her a little, matt laughed harder as his girl tightened her hold on his neck. "matt i swear to god if you throw me in the water" laughing at her empty threats, matt dropped her down a little.

"MATTEW STURNIOLO"

"but baby i love you" he said as he completely dropped her down.

clip six; deaf, mute and blind challenge

yn sometimes participated in the triplets' videos. right now she was a part of the deaf mute and blind challenge. nick and chris were deaf, matt was mute and she was blind.

it was tough to be blind when she was only one who could actually cook something but nothing goes according to her wish, right?

which brings us to this moment. yn, desperately trying to find the bowl which contained the pancake mixture. looking at his struggling girlfriend, matt came behind her and pulled the bowl towards them. putting the whisk in her hand, he grabbed her from behind and helped her whisk the ingredients together. mumbling a small thank you the girl was finally relieved as the process was almost over.

all while nick and chris danced and screamed to doja cat.

clip seven; grwm

yn was filming a get ready with me to go to a date. while she was putting the make up on, her boyfriend entered the room. saying a quick hi to him she turned back to explain her makeup process to her followers.

"—oh y'all need to try this mascara. it's sooooo good. i literally cried—" hugging the girl matt cut off her rant. he squeezed the girl in his arms as she turned around to place a kiss on his cheek. laughing at the bright red stain her lipstick left on his cheeks she tried to grab a tissue to wipe it off. protesting against it, the boy pulled her closer to him.

clip eight; dancing in the snow

the clip was from a random vlog yn posted. it started off with yn putting her vlog camera on the car's bonet and running towards matt. the two, fully covered in wools from head to toe danced in the snow without any music.

matt twirled his girl, a small laugh leaving him as the girl lost balance and collided with him, pushing the two to the ground.

it may seem silly to others, dancing without any music or laughing like madmen in the snow but to them this was the best moment of their life.

as the video ended, matt pouted at the screen. he now missed his girlfriend. he decided to facetime his girl not knowing chris was right behind him and he recorded matt smiling and blushing at moments with his girlfriend. probably this would end up in another compilation of matt and yn being in love.

[the-faceless-bride]

More Ideas for KNY (demon slayer) different characters ♡ (SOME NSFW CONTENT FOR SANEMI AND MUZAN AND MENTIONS OF GORE IN SANEMI AND LIGHT NSFW IN GYOMEI)

<- Part 1

Imagine being dangerously in love.

Imagine being a demon, obsessed with the brash, and blood thirst Wind Hashira. the first time ever being in battle with him is what leads you down a path of want and lust for the cruel hashira.

Imagine going out of your way to always be where he is, always catching his attention and being attacked by him. He believes you're mocking him, following him just to show off that he hasn't been able to kill you. But that isn't true at all. When you fight, you never actively try and gut him, only blocking your neck and leaving the rest of your limbs exposed to be lashed in this masochism tango.

Imagine struggling to hide your enjoyment and ecstacy each time his sword ripped, teard, and scar your body. He had to have known how me made you feel. He must. The darkness of your cheeks must've been a giveaway. Right? His eyes bewitching you in how intense he glares into your soul. It sets a fire under your cold skin, a burning desire.

Imagine one time when you and Sanemi are fighting. Other slayers show up. But they don't instantly jump into the fight. 1. from looking at the fight, you hadn't landed a single strike and seemed to be a greater deal slower than the hashira, and 2. Tanjiro made an odd comment. "Huh, it's like she's avoiding striking him on purpose."

Imagine how Shinobu decided the fight was long enough and tried to sneak in and end the fight. Only for a switch to set off and catch her off guard and spin at the speed of light, leaving a large gash across her body from her left founder to her hip. And Sanemi instantly tried to help her. Only to be stopped by your own weapon pressed so close to his neck that even swallowing made his Adamsapple scrape against a sharp blade. "Don't you dare. Your attention is meant for me. Are you seriously letting her attempt to get between us work?" And that made Sanemi pause... "us? Wha-" -- "don't play dumb darling. We're soulmates, Sanemi~" you whisper to him. "What the fuck."

Imagine how now you make him feel so conflicted, how he hates you for what you are but loves you for how you make him feel... in his home in his spare time as the sun rises, his windows covered and locked tight as he has you on your knees, leaning forward and his chest pressed to your back. Your head locked between his bicep as his other hand held his sword under you. It nicks you each time he thrusts. If he pushed you forward anymore, his blade would surely cut your chest and stomach open. "I HATE YOU, YOU FILTHY DEMON. I DONT WANT YOU. CURSE YOU FOR DEMONIC TEMPTATION." You softy cry at the harsh words from your love, "I don't care if you don't want me... I'm yours right now..."

Sanemi Shinazugawa × Demon reader Trope: Yandere Lovesick/I hate you so much I love you.

Imagine being with Muzan his entire life... your family were servants to his family. And from a young age, you were assigned to be Muzans personal maid or companion as you were too young to really do any work than cleaning up his room. But since you can remember, you've always been with Muzan.

Imagine being the one he confides with most. His fears, his wishes, and despite his coldness. His shouldering eyes seemed to be less scorching when it came to you. His one and only friend. Even if you didn't have much of a choice in the companionship. It was you who sat in on his doctor's visits about his deteriorating health. When he got the news of how it would be a miracle for him to even make it to his mid 20s...

Imagine how one night after a particularly scary coughing fit, he simply places his head to your mid section as you blush his hair and pull it back into a braid. He softy thanks you as he tilts his head to look up at you, "Of course, I'm always happy to take care of you." But that isn't want he wants. He wanted to take care of you. Not you to him. And without thinking, he pulls you down to him.

Imagine His heat is pounding in his chest. You lay across him as his long and slim fingers tease you between your legs. You try and stay quiet, your face twisted with pleasure and guilt. You felt like you were taking advantage of the sick man who would never find love or feel the love of another in such a romantic and intimate way. You thought maybe that this was him just grasping for a moment where he didn't feel so useless being bedridden. But it was so much more. If this was the last thing he did, pleasing the only one who he cared for most. The one he wished he could've married... he would be happy to die. This surely isn't good for his heart, but he couldn't care less. You hovering yourself above him. As he tried weakly to pull you in to rest your whole weight. This was how he wanted to spend his last days, weeks, and months. However long he had left. He wanted it to be with you.

Imagine as days go by, and he feels more and more guilty. He starts to feel as though you let him do these things because you feel obligated as his personal maid to do so. Nights in the dark ask he fingers you, giving and receiving oral pleasure. But you still won't give him everything. You refuse to fully lay with him. Sometimes, he feels like it's because you don't really love him. Not like he does you. Or maybe you find him... pathetic... he can't actually make love to you. You'd be doing all the work. He doesn't want that, and it seems you don't either... eventually, his thoughts become too much, and he decides to let you go...

Imagine you were relieved of all your maid duties, not just to Muzan but to the family as a whole. You were heartbroken. And the heartbreak only worsened at the news of Muzan and his families and your families deaths. You'd cried more times than you'd ever had before in your life. And you were so very confused when you'd found a Man who looked exactly like Muzan sitting in your bed a few nights later. "Hello dear. I'm home." He invented to truly give you what you wanted, and he was eager to give it too you.

Muzan Kibutsuji × reader Trope: Unrequited/reunited love/soulmates

Imagine being Master Kagaya's faithful slayer, you'd always admired him. You and your Master had created a strong bond. Stronger than others. Moments like this reminded you that you were special. You sat on your knees as you just like you had the first time. Your head pressed to his chest and he dragged his fingers over your head.

Imagine trying not to tear up as you remember the first time you'd kneeled for him. You'd been reckless and impatient leading to a fellow slayer getting extremely hurt. You kneeled before him as you sat in the room alone waiting for him to speak. Doing your best to not make any noise as you silently cry. You'd failed him. Your beloved Master. But he didn't yell. He didn't make you feel like you were a problem. He merely hummed before knealing with you, one hand on atop your head and the other cupping your cheek feeling the wet stream of tears and wiped it away. "It's alright. You didn't mean for this to happen. I know you didn't. I know you're a good girl." And your breath hitched. He noticed. And from then on he gave you positive affrimations which encouraged you to do better. For him.

Imagine how as you sat there listening to his words letting yourself flow away and melt into your master. He thought it was innocent. He was simply your master helping you, if it wasn't him maybe you'd find these soft words from Gyomei or maybe even Kyojuro... but he was wrong. So wrong. It was him. Only him. You'd put yourself on the line so much more than you should've. All to hear those soft praises. His wife must not like you... you do take up more and more of his time as days go on...

Imagine how he softly calls to you. Late that night, he'd heard your footsteps. He sat with you talking. About anything that day. Soft and short conversations. Quiet but not uncomfortable. "You're my favorite you know." He sighed, before he let out a small chuckle "don't tell the others." You know he was teasing. But your heart told you other wise.

Imagine being hurt. In battle you were hurt. But even in your pain you still made your way to your master... your beautiful Kagaya... the married man, the family man, that you had fallen in love with. "My dear, you still come and see me while you're in such pain?" He seemed shocked. But you aren't sure why, you'd walk on hot coles and crawled on your hands and belly to kneel for him. You'd do anything for your master. And you could only hope as his favorite... you wouldn't let him down. Finally you lifted your head from his chest, pulling his hands from your hands, leaving a kiss to his knuckles. One day. One day you'll have him.

Kagaya Ubuyashiki × Slayer reader Trope: unrequited love/lovesick/slow burn

Special Part two of Forbidden love with Gyomei × demon

Imagine how the rest of the slayers flock around Gyomei, asking him so many questions. And he couldn't even answer them all. Too consumed by his disbelief that the person he'd fallen in love with so deeply, had turned out to be a demon.

Imagine how he layed in bed lonely and... missing you. He began to long of your cold touch, your voice, your laugh that was so contagious to him. He missed you. He'd fallen for you. Demon or not. He laid in his bed trying and failing to get even a wink of sleep. But just as he had almost fallen asleep he was awoken by a sound. 'Tap tap' was the sound, 'tap tap' on his window. "Gyomei... my love..."

Imagine how he practically leaped from his bed. Demon or not you had carved yourself a spot in his heart. Slamming open the window and pulling you inside, his hands instantly feeling over your cheeks, your nose, your neck. Kissing the knuckles of your cold hands.

Imagine being the one that made Gyomei for a moment stay from his faiths. Gyomei devoted his life to his beliefs, that includes waiting. Waited all his life for the one. Saving himself and waiting. But you both were in a unique circumstances... so from that point on Gyomei promised himself to you. You would stay with him in his home and he would always come back to you. That night he would kiss you, love you, lay you under him while he whispered for you to be his.

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - 18+ mdni explicit content, daddy + breeding kink

"Are you happy?"

The heat of your back bleeds into his chest, back of your head tipping towards his neck.

"Yes." The sapphire gleams, setting sun casting a glitter of rays through it, illuminating the deep sea gemstone like true light itself.

He's tried to make it right. Put it all back together. He's taken it painstakingly slow, going as far as sleeping on the couch when he was released from hospital, though it didn't stop you from padding over to him in the middle of the night and poking him in the chest until he woke up and followed you back to bed.

"Stop doing that," you mumbled into his chest, eyes already shut again, "I don't want you on the couch."

"I want you to be comfortable-"

"I am comfortable. With you in our bed. Not out there where I can't feel you." Your voice broke on the admission, his lips pressed to your forehead. "I need you to be here."

"I am. I'm here, mama. I'm here."

The dawn of it all felt so far away, so many times, but when it finally broke, a too long darkness was swept away.

"I love you," you whispered, "You can't ever do that again."

"We'll take precautions next time, Price and I discussed-"

"No... not precautions. There can't be a next time, Simon. I need you to come home to us. In one piece. You can't ever... I was scared we were going to lose you."

"You'd never." He rubed your back, pace too quick to be considered soothing, and you burrowed closer.

"So, you can't get hurt like that, again. Promise me."

Days turned to weeks, the incident turning to dust in the back of your mind, still lurking in his. He sees it in his nightmares, in waking moments, horror beyond belief sticking to his bones. It affects him so deeply, all he can do is turn to your comfort.

"Look at me," you cupped his cheek astride his waist, your nightie rucked up around your hips. You're soaked, wet cunt leaking on him, desire burning from when he had two fingers inside of you a few minutes ago. "Don't go there. Stay with me. Be here, with me."

"I am." He tried to reassure, but you shook your head.

"You're not." You pulled him free from his boxers, notching him at the opening of your pussy before lowering yourself, sheathing him inside you entirely. He groans.

"Christ." You moaned in response, his little kitten on his lap. It's a lot to take at this angle and he gripped your hips, fingers digging into the curves of your flesh there. 

"Simon." Your lips found his, and held you there, held you tight, memorizing the feel of his home. 

"You seem... distracted." In truth, he was. He was dreading going back to work now that he was mostly healed, miserable about the idea of leaving you and Orion. It was pulling his focus away from being in the moments here with the two of you, his family. "Simon?" 

"Sorry, mama." He dots kisses up your neck to your jaw, and you arch against him, ass pressing against where his cock hardens under his sweatpants. 

"Come on." He doesn't argue when you pull him into the bedroom, checking to make sure Orion is still asleep, before you lay down on the bed, underwear gone, turned on your side with a lazy smile. 

It's everything he could ever want. You're everything. 

His mind strays, a different direction this time, reaching for a dream, a vision of you pregnant, full of him, growing his baby. It poisons his blood, and he grinds his teeth, tucking you against him, hand splayed over your belly before venturing down through your curls, sticky and wet already, your pussy swollen for him. "Is this for me honey?" 

"Yeah." You breathe, jerking as his thumb grazes your clit. 

"Poor kitten." He taps, pulling a groan from your throat. "Are you aching? Need daddy to take care of you?" 

"Yes daddy, please." Your hold on his forearm is steel, and he smiles into your neck. 

"I want to give you another baby, honey." He shifts, rolling you onto your belly and knocking your knees aside, your face turned towards him with a dazed expression. "I want to be here this time," he pushes inside, walls tight around his cock. "See your belly grow," he thrusts again, your little gasps getting louder as he works into a rhythm, "be here for everything." You're still on birth control, he knows that, but the fantasy is too strong, and he's desperate to turn it into a reality. 

This time can be for practice. 

"Fuck-" Your hips push back against him, meeting his movements, desperate in a pursuit. 

"Do you want it mama? Want daddy to fuck another baby into you?" You rise to your knees and he follows, draping himself over your back. You don't answer right away, head thrown back, loud moan ripping from your mouth. 

"I- I... yeah-" Green light, his mind screams, reaching between your legs to pinch your clit. 

"You're such a good girl," he coos, "so good, gonna fill you up." 

"P-please." You're close to your orgasm now, pussy squeezing, tightening around his cock like a fucking vice, and his muscles go rigid, trying to fight off his own. 

"Come for me then, come on my cock and I'll give it to you." Your an answer is an explosion, heat pulsing around him, dragging him into it, the two of you falling together. 

Afterwards, you turn over, and blink owlishly at him. 

"Do you... was that-" He cups your cheek. 

"Yeah, honey. It was." 

[three--rings]

One thing I haven't seen a lot of talk about in the fandom so far is about the financials of this season.

It took us two whole months to get a confirmation of renewal from Max, and I talked at the time that I think there was probably a lot of heated negotiations going on at the time with contracts and that's why it took as long as it did.

I think we see a huge number of indications of the compromises that were made in order for S2 to be made. One obvious one that has been talked about is being making in in NZ instead of LA, to save $.

But there's also the eight episodes instead of ten. And then the cast aspect. One downside of moving overseas was having to fly out and house the cast, not just pay day wages.

We knew immediately about Guz Khan not coming back, losing Ivan as a character. At the time I was sad but I thought it had the air of a pretty harshly practical call. If you went through the main recurring cast and said okay which character will affect the fewest things, has the least character interactions of anyone? It would be Ivan. (With the only competition being The Swede IMO, but he's Stede's crew and therefore a little more central.)

And then this season started and we got first The Swede sidelined and taken out of major scenes. And then I noticed that different members of the crew were simply absent for long stretches, like Wee John isn't around for ep 5 at all. And then Buttons takes flight.

Lucius and Pete aren't at the party for most of it. Fang isn't in the torture scene. Roach and Fang aren't in the bar. Etc. SCHEDULING IS HAPPENING.

The new characters are almost entirely played by NZ local actors, which is great, but also...cheaper.

In other words there are big signs that they did everything possible to give us a giant cast of almost everyone we love from S1, and cool new characters, in the most economical way possible.

And I'm grateful for it. I'm grateful we got S2, and it looks great, and it's well written, I'm having a blast, and we get to spend more time with this awesome cast.

But I also kinda think it needs to be said that the cost-cutting shows. That it shouldn't have been only 8 episodes, the pacing is off. That we miss every time someone from the ensemble isn't on screen.

That despite what they've put on screen looking very good, there's far less costuming budget, there's less elaborate sets, and it's a little disappointing. And it's clear it's not a lack of will or talent or vision but blatantly lack of money.

Look, streaming networks want brilliant shows that people love (that will get them to subscribe) but they very don't want to pay anyone to make them. That's like, the whole moment we're having right now.

Max puts out promos about how great it is to not have unions messing shit up in NZ. Well I have friends who are union costumers in LA and guess what union costumers did amazing last season. This season, well, I guess Stede got three whole shirts, so that's cool.

So I dunno. It's just stuff I think about. I'm not trying to be negative about the show in any way. I'm extremely happy with this season; I love it more than well, possibly any show I've ever been in fandom for.

But I see you, Max. You're cheap. You weren't that cheap when you were called HBO.