#like “no. no. i straight up killed a guy.”

[vaguely-concerned]

the barista lady in the treviso café fucking giggles every time you buy the fancy coffee lucanis likes from her btw. can't believe the game is calling out rook and me like this

[lilietsblog]

death should have a purpose in the narrative proportional to its impact. If you're killing off a beloved character and nothing in particular follows from it, you're not doing well. Death might be realistic, but so is survival!

Pain for pain's sake is, simply, bad. Pain for the sake of catharsis, pain for the sake of themes, those have their place.

Oh, and also, death that simply removes the character from the narrative, if this character was previously emotionally important, is simply and straight up badly written. If the only thing being explored after it is other characters' ability to deal with loss, without actually being specific to the one who died, it's badly written. If a character was important, narrative should mourn them, should let them stay important in memories and echoes of past actions and decisions, should keep them as a discussion topic. Them, as they were, not just how other characters react to their death.

Else you're just telling the audience "wow you should not have gotten so invested, move on already, attachment is stupid and you should have known better, this story is about the ones who lived (so far) not about that guy". Like, the end point of this logic is that actually you shouldn't get attached to ANY of the characters - only the author knows when the next one is getting written out, after all!

A good character death haunts the narrative, remains as important as the character was when alive.

Of course, if you're writing, say, horror, then that's exactly the effect you're going for, and good for you. But I don't think, somehow, that the original comment meant horror.

im starting to think you guys dont like it when stories make you feel things

[yellowbrokenblue]

Harry joins you in the hot tub…

Your brother brought his best friend on vacation, and you find yourselves stuck in a rather steamy situation.

cw: smut, cheating, degradation, semi public sex, harry and reader being a horny mess

kofi

You had no idea how your brother had managed to coax your parents into paying for his best friend, Harry, to come on vacation with your family, but somehow it had happened.

And it was killing you.

Harry was the sort of guy you only saw in movies. A perfectly chiseled jawline, brown locks you wanted to tangle your fingers in, and pink lips with a permanent smirk on them.

And what was even worse was that you were kept up at night with thought of him with your own fingers in your pussy.

It almost made you forget about your boyfriend, Brandon, who had conveniently had to attend a friends birthday party instead of his own girlfriend’s family vacation.

Everyone had been asleep for hours, but you had no chance of sleeping while dirty thoughts of Niall’s best friend kept circulating your thoughts- so you quickly changed into your bikini and made your way to the hot tub for a late night dip.

The water wasn’t as soothing as you’d hoped it to be, and instead the heat of the water had made you even more horny. Resisting the urge to dip your fingers below your bikini bottoms was killing you right now.

“Seems I wasn’t only one who wanted a dip in the hot tub tonight.”

Your head snapped upwards. Everyone was supposed to be asleep, you weren’t supposed to be hearing any voices at this time of night.

Especially not his voice.

“Harry.” You breathed.

“Mind if I join you?” He asked.

He was wearing only his swimming trunks, leaving his beautiful, tattooed chest on full display.

You caught yourself staring at him, and snapped your eyes away.

You don’t remember the last time you took a breath. You’d been holding it in as he stepped into the hot tub and settled himself directly opposite you, not breaking eye contact the whole time he got in.

“Why’s Brandon not here, then?”

You looked at him, confusion on your features as you listened to Harry spit out Brandon’s name with distaste.

“He couldn’t make it.”

Harry shook his head, frowning, “He’s a fucking prick, Y/N.”

You shrug.

“Oh well. I’m glad he’s not here. It’s kinda nice it just being me and you.” Harry said again.

Your heart skipped a beat.

“Don’t you think?” He asked.

“Yeah.” You said quietly, “It is nice.”

You squeeze your thighs together. The effect Harry had on you right now simply by sitting opposite you without a shirt on was crazy.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Harry asked.

You bite your lip, unsure of what to say, and nod.

“I say we play a little game, hm? You seem tense, let’s lighten the mood.”

“Uhm, alright. What’s the game?”

Harry shrugged, “I get to answer any question, and you have to answer. Then you ask me a question, and I have to answer… And so on.”

You frown, “And what if I don’t want to answer?”

A smirk spread over his features.

“Then you gotta take an item of clothing off.”

A lump forms in your throat.

“We’re wearing swimsuits, Harry.” You said.

“I don’t have a problem as long as you don’t have a problem.” He said, “Do you? Do you have a problem?”

You shook your head.

“No problem.”

Harry grinned, “Good.” He said, “Let’s get started then, shall we?”

You nod.

God, he was so hot. Sitting there, staring at you with those eyes. You felt like you were going to sink to the bottom of the hot tub and never come back out.

“What’s your body count?” Harry asked.

You swallowed. You had expected the questions to make a sexual turn eventually, but not straight out on the first one.

“Three.” You said, not elaborating anymore.

“Now you ask me one.”

You thought for a second. If Harry wanted the questions to be about sex, you’d make them about sex.

“Where is the weirdest place you’ve had sex?”

You noticed Harry smirk, and he wasted no time answering the question.

“A girl sucked me off in a movie theatre one time, but the weirdest place I’ve fucked someone? I dunno, like, janitors closet in high school?”

“Movie theatre? Like during the movie, or in the bathroom?”

“During the movie. There wasn’t many people watching the film to be fair, but the movie was on.”

“You’re insane.”

“I know.”

How you fucking wished it had been you sucking Harry’s dick in a movie theatre.

“Okay. My turn.” Harry said, “Why are you happy that Brandon didn’t come on vacation?”

“What?” You asked, “Of course I’m not happy. I’m upset about it!”

You frown at Harry.

“Either you tell the truth, Y/N, or you take an item off. Your choice, sweetheart.”

You think for a moment. Neither options are particularly good ones.

“Okay. Fine. I’m happy he’s not here. I just like… Needed a break from his constant complaining and constant need to create an argument.”

“That’s everything?”

You nod.

“My turn.” You said.

You pause.

Nothing comes to mind at all.

“I can’t think of one.” You say.

“Do you want me to just go again?”

It’s almost as if your heart had stopped beating- you were barely able to process the words that Harry was saying.

“Was it you that I heard touching yourself in your bedroom last night?”

Your cheeks go pink. You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

You swallow again, your heart racing.

“No answer?”

Harry smirks, sliding over to the other side of the hot tub, stopping in front of you.

“Sweetheart, you know the rules. If you don’t answer, that skimpy little bikini of yours has to come off.”

“I-”

You physically couldn’t get any words out of your mouth. Your thighs were pressed together as Harry stared hungrily at you.

He moved his hand closer and closer to the back of your neck where your bikini was tied, and in one swift movement, pulled the string of it, causing it to fall into the pool.

His eyes didn’t leave your breasts for what felt like forever. They were locked on your body, his eyes taking everything in.

“One point to me.” He said, “And I’m changing the fuckin’ rules. Only I get to ask questions now.”

You nod.

“Tell me who you were thinking of when you had your fingers in your own cunt last night, Y/N.” He said, his hands that had been placed on your hips moving closer to your panties, his fingers eventually dipping under the waistband, “Cause I sure as hell know it wasn’t Brandon.”

He spat out your boyfriend’s name like dirt on his shoe.

“Does he make you cum, Y/N? Does he make you cum with his tiny dick in your pussy? Does the make you feel good the way you know that I would make you feel good?”

Harry didn’t even wait for you to answer any of his questions. He ripped your panties down your legs, leaving you stark naked in the pool.

“Harry.” You say.

The pain between your legs was unmeasurable. You needed him so badly rignt now that it hurt.

“Tell me you want me, baby, and I’ll give you anything.”

“I want you, Harry.” You say.

“You can have me, babygirl. But first I want to see you touch yourself. Touch yourself the way I heard you last night.”

You wasted no time doing what he asked. The need to release the tension between your legs was so bad right now you’d do anything.

Your hand slipped between your legs and found your clit, rubbing fast circles, moaning out in pleasure.

“Dirty, dirty girl.” He said, “All this because you are so desperate to fuck me.”

“Please Harry. Please I need you.”

“That’s it, baby girl.” Harry said, palming his dick through his pants, “Beg for it. Beg for my cock, Y/N.”

You moan, your fingers still playing with your clit.

“Please Harry. Please give me your cock. I’m so desperate.”

He quickly changed the positions in you both were in, and had his shorts off his body and dangling over the edge of the tub in no time.

“That’s it.” He said, helping you straddle his lap, “You’re gonna take daddy’s cock like the pretty little whore you are.”

Daddy. You moan at his words.

He had hold of your hips, and you moaned as he pushed you onto his cock. Pushing his hips up so you took the whole length all at once.

“Such a tight cunt.” Harry groaned as his cock was pushed right inside of you.

You tried to grind against him, but he had hold of your hips so you couldn’t move.

“Stay still.” He instructed, “Play with those pretty tits and then I’ll let you move.”

You brought your hands to your breasts. You’d do anything for this man right now.

Harry moaned as he watched you push your tits together.

“Oh.” He moaned, “I’m gonna fuck those tits after this. Cum all over them.”

The feeling of his cock inside of you was already making you feral, but this was on another level.

“Please!” You say.

Harry seems to snap, and out of nowhere starts to move your hips, rocking you against him.

“Bounce for me.” He said. “Bounce on daddy’s cock.”

You moved your hips faster than you ever had before, moaning with each time you pushed your hips towards him, his cock filling you up more and more each time.

“Oh, Harry.”

Harry helps you moved faster and faster until you’re physically crying with how close you are to an orgasm.

“I’m cumming, I’m cumming.” You cry out, your orgasm washing over you like a fucking tidal wave.

Your legs were trembling as Harry groaned, indicating he’d reached his own high, your body falling limp, resting against him.

“You’re never gonna fuck that Brandon loser again. You understand?” Harry said, through his own orgasm, “It’s my cock only from now on.”

[paxtito]

pretty girl

pairings: wednesday x fem!reader

word count: 3685

warnings: smut 18+. just lesbian sex innit (w receiving)— (all characters are 18+)

summary: wednesday put together a little surprise date night, but, enid being enid, couldn’t keep it a secret

a/n: based on this request: ‘I love your writing and was wondering if you could make another smut fic with Wednesday? Maybe something sorta soft, honestly anything would do. Thanks!’ hope this is what you were looking for and thank you!! spent the day resting which gave me plenty of time to do this because my lil’ anger issues of a dog bit my cheek after wanting my birthday cake 😒

MASTERLIST

The morning air is crisp as you walk across campus with Enid, her usual vibrant energy making up for your grogginess. You clutch your coffee tightly, half-listening as she chatters about the latest gossip in the werewolf pack.

“And then Ajax tried to—are you even listening to me?” she asks, bumping her shoulder into yours playfully.

“Barely,” you admit with a small smile, taking another sip of your coffee. “It’s too early for full Enid mode.”

“Rude,” she pouts dramatically before grinning. “But fine, I’ll get to the point. I’m sleeping over at Yoko’s tonight!”

“Wait, what?” you ask, blinking at her. “Why?”

Enid’s steps falter, and she looks away for a moment, biting her lip. “Oh, uh, no reason!”

You narrow your eyes at her, immediately suspicious. “Enid…”

“It’s nothing!” she insists, waving her hands defensively. “Totally normal, just, uh, bestie stuff. You know, girl talk, vampire-werewolf bonding, that kind of thing.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re a terrible liar.”

She groans, throwing her head back dramatically. “Fine! But you can’t tell Wednesday I told you, okay? She’d literally kill me. Like, for real this time.”

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of Wednesday. “What does she have to do with this?”

Enid hesitates, looking torn. “Ugh, okay, fine,” she blurts out, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “She’s planning something for you tonight. Like, a date night or something. She told me to clear out so you two could have the dorm to yourselves.”

A warm, unexpected blush creeps up your neck. “Wait… Wednesday planned something? For me?”

Enid nods, her grin widening. “Yup! And let me tell you, she’s been stressing about it all week. She even glared at me less than usual yesterday, so you know it’s serious.”

You can’t help but smile, your heart fluttering at the thought of Wednesday going out of her way to plan something for you. “That’s… actually really sweet.”

“Right? But don’t tell her I told you, okay?” Enid warns, gripping your arm. “She swore me to secrecy and gave me this whole creepy ‘I’ll bury you alive’ speech. Classic Wednesday.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

“Good. Because I value my life,” Enid says with mock seriousness before breaking into a smile. “But seriously, I’m happy for you guys. She’s got a soft spot for you, you know.”

Your smile grows as you think about Wednesday, her deadpan expression softening ever so slightly when she’s around you, the way her hand lingers in yours when no one’s looking. “Yeah,” you say quietly, more to yourself than to Enid. “I know.”

As the two of you reach the doors to your next class, you can’t help but feel a little giddy. Whatever Wednesday has planned, you know it’ll be something only she could come up with—quiet, dark, and maybe a little macabre. And you can’t wait to see what she’s put together.

—

The afternoon sun filters through the classroom windows, casting a warm glow across your desk. Your fingers absentmindedly tap against the surface as you try to focus on the teacher's droning voice, but your thoughts keep drifting to Wednesday and the surprise she has planned for you.

Despite your best efforts to keep a straight face, a small, giddy smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. You sneak a glance at Wednesday from the corner of your eye, trying to gauge her reaction.

To your surprise, she's already staring at you, her dark eyes narrowed in suspicion. Your gaze meets hers, and you quickly look away, feeling your cheeks heat up under her intense scrutiny.

"You," she says flatly, her voice cutting through the monotony of the lecture. "Are you feeling alright? You seem... distracted."

You swallow hard, your mind racing for an excuse. "I'm fine," you manage, keeping your tone as neutral as possible. "Just thinking about the assignment."

Wednesday raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. Her gaze bores into you, as if she's trying to read your thoughts.

You squirm in your seat, suddenly feeling like a bug under a microscope. You can practically hear Enid's voice in your head, warning you not to blow her cover.

But it's too late. Wednesday's eyes widen slightly, a flicker of panic crossing her face before she schools her features back into a neutral expression.

"Ah," she says slowly, leaning back in her chair. "Well, I'm sure you'll figure it out."

You bite your lip, wondering if you should press further. But before you can open your mouth, the bell rings, signaling the end of class.

Wednesday stands abruptly, gathering her books without another word. She brushes past you, her shoulder bumping against yours in a way that feels almost like a dismissal.

You watch her go, your heart sinking. You've blown it, haven't you? Ruined whatever surprise she had planned.

You scramble to your feet, nearly tripping over your chair in your haste. Your backpack slips off the desk, scattering your belongings across the floor.

"Wednesday, wait!" you call out, your voice echoing in the now-empty classroom.

You chase after her, weaving through the throng of students in the hallway. Your heart pounds in your chest as you catch up to her, reaching out to grasp her arm.

Wednesday whirls around, her dark eyes flashing with irritation. "What?" she snaps, her voice sharp.

You swallow hard, trying to find the right words. "I... I'm sorry," you manage, your voice coming out smaller than you intended. "I didn't mean to ruin your surprise. I just... I couldn't help myself."

For a moment, Wednesday just stares at you, her expression unreadable. Then, to your surprise, her shoulders slump slightly, and she lets out a sigh.

"You're impossible," she mutters, but there's no real heat behind her words.

You blink, taken aback by her sudden shift in demeanor. "I... I know," you say softly, giving her arm a gentle squeeze. "But I meant what I said. I'm sorry."

Wednesday is silent for a moment, and then she nods, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Fine," she says, her tone grudging. "But don't think this means you're off the hook. You owe me one."

You grin, relief washing over you. "I can live with that," you say, your voice light and teasing. "So... are you going to tell me what you have planned, or do I have to guess?"

Wednesday rolls her eyes, but there's a hint of amusement in her gaze. "Guess," she says simply, before turning and walking away, leaving you to follow in her wake.

—

You stand outside Wednesday's dorm room, your hand hovering over the doorknob. You take a deep breath, trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach.

Despite your earlier promise to keep quiet, you can't shake the nagging feeling that you've ruined whatever surprise she had planned. You glance down at your uniform, suddenly self-conscious about your appearance.

"Get it together," you mutter to yourself, giving your skirt a quick smoothing. "She's not going to bite."

With a final nod of determination, you raise your hand and knock on the door. The sound echoes through the empty hallway, making you wince.

Silence greets you for a moment, and you wonder if Wednesday is ignoring you. But then, the door swings open, revealing Wednesday standing in the doorway.

She's changed out of her school uniform, now wearing a simple black dress that falls to her knees. Her hair is loose, tumbling down her back in dark waves.

For a moment, you're struck dumb, your brain short-circuiting at the sight of her. She looks... pretty. Soft. Nothing like her usual sharp edges and icy demeanor.

Wednesday arches an eyebrow, her lips twisting into a smirk. "Cat got your tongue?" she asks, her voice dry.

You shake your head, feeling your cheeks heat up. "No," you manage, clearing your throat. "I just... I didn't expect you to look so..."

You trail off, not quite sure how to finish that sentence without sounding like a complete fool. Wednesday's smirk widens, and she steps aside, gesturing for you to enter.

"Come in," she says simply, before closing the door behind you with a soft click.

You step into Wednesday's dorm room, your eyes widening as you take in the scene before you. The furniture has been pushed to the sides, creating a large open space in the center of the room. Soft, ambient lighting casts a warm glow over everything, making the room feel intimate and cozy.

In the middle of it all stands Wednesday, her posture perfect, her expression unreadable. She's holding out her hand to you, a silent invitation.

"What's all this?" you ask, your voice coming out a little breathless.

Wednesday's lips curve into a small, enigmatic smile. "I'm going to teach you how to dance," she says simply, her tone matter-of-fact.

You blink, taken aback by her words. "Dance?" you repeat, feeling a little foolish. "Like... ballroom dancing?"

Wednesday nods, her dark eyes glinting with a hint of amusement. "Yes," she confirms, her voice dry. "Like my parents do. It's a family tradition."

You feel your heart skip a beat at the thought of Wednesday's parents, of the life she leads outside of Nevermore. It's a side of her you've never seen before, and the idea of being a part of it, even in a small way, makes your stomach flutter.

"I... I'd like that," you manage, stepping forward to take her hand.

Wednesday's fingers are cool against yours, her grip firm and steady. She pulls you closer, her body mere inches from yours.

"Good," she says simply, before beginning to guide you through the steps.

You stumble a little at first. But Wednesday is patient, her instructions clear and concise. Slowly, you begin to find your rhythm, moving in tandem with her.

As you dance, you can't help but notice the way Wednesday's eyes never leave yours. There's an intensity there, a depth of emotion that makes your breath catch in your throat.

"You're doing well," she murmurs, her voice soft. "Just follow my lead."

You move gracefully in Wednesday's arms, your body reacting instinctively to her guidance. The fabric of your black trousers brushes against her dress as you spin, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine.

Wednesday's gaze is intense, her dark eyes boring into yours with an unspoken question. You swallow hard, trying to ignore the way your heart races at her proximity.

"You're a natural," she murmurs, her voice low and intimate. "I knew you'd be good at this."

You duck your head, feeling a blush creep up your neck. "It's easy when I have a good partner," you manage, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Wednesday's lips curve into a small, enigmatic smile. "Is that so?" she asks, her tone teasing.

You nod, your gaze flickering down to her lips for a brief moment before meeting her eyes again. "Definitely," you confirm, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wednesday hums, her fingers tightening around yours. "Good," she says simply, before pulling you closer, your bodies now just inches apart.

You can feel the heat radiating off her skin, the scent of her perfume filling your nostrils. Your breath hitches, your pulse pounding in your ears.

"Now," Wednesday says, her voice low and husky. "Let's try something a little more... challenging."

She steps back, her hand leaving yours. You feel a momentary pang of loss, your fingers aching to touch her again.

But then Wednesday begins to move, her body swaying to a beat only she can hear. She extends her hand, a silent invitation for you to join her.

You hesitate for a moment, your heart hammering in your chest. But then, with a deep breath, you step forward, ready to follow wherever she leads.

You take Wednesday's hand, her fingers cool and strong in your grasp. She pulls you close, your bodies pressing together as she guides you into a new dance.

This one is more sensual, the steps slower and more deliberate. Wednesday's gaze never leaves yours, her dark eyes smoldering with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat.

You move together, your bodies swaying in perfect sync. The world around you fades away, until there is nothing but the two of you, lost in the rhythm of the dance.

Wednesday's hand slides up your arm, her fingers trailing over your skin. You shiver at the contact, your nerve endings igniting with each touch.

"You're doing well," she murmurs, her lips barely brushing against your ear. "Keep going."

You nod, your body responding to her commands without hesitation. You've never felt so in tune with another person, so utterly in sync.

As the dance comes to an end, Wednesday pulls you into a final, tight embrace. You can feel the heat of her body against yours, the softness of her breasts pressing into your chest.

For a moment, you're frozen, your heart pounding in your ears. You know you should pull away, put some distance between you. But you can't bring yourself to move, not when Wednesday feels so perfect in your arms.

Slowly, tentatively, you raise your hand, your fingers brushing against the silky strands of her hair. Wednesday's eyes flutter closed, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

"Y/N," she breathes, your name a prayer on her tongue. "I..."

Your heart races as Wednesday's breathy voice caresses your name. In this moment, suspended in time, the world seems to fall away, leaving only the two of you, hearts beating as one.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, you lean in closer, your forehead resting against hers. Your hands slide up to cup her face, thumbs gently stroking her high cheekbones.

Wednesday's eyes flutter open, dark and filled with a vulnerability you've never seen before. Her hands come up to rest on your waist, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt.

"I..." she starts, her voice barely a whisper. "I want..."

But she trails off, unable to finish the thought. Instead, she closes the remaining distance between you, pressing her lips to yours in a kiss that steals your breath away.

You melt into the kiss, your body molding against hers like it was made to fit. Wednesday's lips are soft and warm, moving against yours with a desperate hunger.

Your hands slide into her hair, tangling in the silky strands as you deepen the kiss. Wednesday makes a soft noise in the back of her throat, a sound of pure need.

Time seems to stand still as you lose yourself in the taste and feel of her. The rest of the world fades away, leaving only this moment, this connection.

When you finally break apart, you're both breathing heavily, your cheeks flushed and eyes glazed. Wednesday rests her forehead against yours, her hands still gripping your waist tightly.

"That was..." she starts, her voice rough with emotion.

"Perfect," you finish for her, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Wednesday hums in agreement, nuzzling her nose against yours. "I've wanted to do that for a while now," she admits, her tone shy.

You chuckle softly, your fingers carding through her hair. "I'm glad you did," you murmur, bringing your lips to hers once more.

As you kiss, you know that this is just the beginning. The start of something new, something beautiful and terrifying and utterly intoxicating.

Wednesday's hands slide down to your hips, her fingers gripping your waistband tightly. With a sudden tug, she pulls you flush against her, your body pressing into hers.

You gasp at the contact, your hands flying up to grip her shoulders for balance. Wednesday takes advantage of your momentary distraction, walking you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bed.

With a soft push, she sends you tumbling onto the mattress, her body following yours. You land with a bounce, your breath knocked from your lungs as Wednesday settles on top of you, her weight pinning you in place.

"Wednesday," you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper. "What are you..."

But your question is cut off as Wednesday captures your lips in another searing kiss. Her tongue delves into your mouth, exploring every inch of you with a desperate hunger.

You moan into the kiss, your hands sliding down to grip her hips, urging her closer. Wednesday grinds against you, the heat of her core seeping through the thin layers of fabric separating you.

Wednesday breaks the kiss, her dark eyes boring into yours with an intensity that steals your breath. She sits up, straddling your hips, her hands resting on your chest.

"I want you," she whispers, her voice low and husky. "But we don't have to..."

You reach up, cupping her face in your hands. "I want this," you assure her, your thumb brushing over her bottom lip. "I want you."

Wednesday nods, her gaze never leaving yours. Slowly, she leans down, pressing her lips to yours in a deep, passionate kiss.

Your hands slide down her back, settling on her hips. You guide her movements, encouraging her to grind against you. The friction is delicious, the heat building between your legs.

Wednesday gasps into your mouth, her hips moving faster, more urgently. You can feel her growing wetter, her arousal soaking through your clothes.

You break the kiss, panting heavily. "Let me," you plead, your voice rough with desire.

Wednesday nods, shifting off of you. You sit up, your fingers trembling slightly as you reach for the hem of her dress. With a swift movement, you pull it over her head, tossing it aside.

She sits before you, clad only in a black lace bra and matching panties. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of her, her pale skin flawless in the dim light.

You lean forward, pressing reverent kisses along her collarbone, down the swell of her breasts. Wednesday shivers, her fingers tangling in your hair.

Your hands slide down her sides, hooking into the waistband of her panties. With a gentle tug, you pull them down her legs, leaving her bare before you.

You take a moment to drink in the sight of her, your gaze roaming over her body appreciatively. Wednesday flushes under your attention, her thighs pressing together shyly.

"You're so beautiful," you whisper, your voice filled with awe.

Wednesday shakes her head, her dark hair falling in waves around her face. "I'm not..." she starts, but you silence her with a kiss.

Switching positions, you lay Wednesday down on the bed, your body covering hers. You capture her lips in a searing kiss, your tongue delving into her mouth, exploring every inch of her.

Wednesday moans softly into the kiss, her hips arching up to meet yours. Your hands slide down her sides, cupping her breasts through the thin lace of her bra.

You break the kiss, your lips trailing down her neck, nipping at her collarbone. Wednesday gasps, her fingers digging into your back, urging you on.

Your hand slides down her stomach, teasing the edge of her panties. Wednesday's breath hitches, her thighs parting slightly in invitation.

You dip your fingers beneath the fabric, finding her slick and ready for you. Wednesday whimpers, her hips bucking into your touch.

Your fingers glide through Wednesday's slick folds, finding her sensitive bud. She gasps, her hips jerking at the sudden contact.

"Y/N," she breathes, your name a prayer on her lips.

You circle her clit with teasing strokes, reveling in the way her body responds to your touch. Wednesday's thighs tremble, her hands fisting in the sheets beneath her.

Slowly, you slide a finger inside her, groaning at the way her walls clench around you. Wednesday is so hot, so tight, so perfect.

You add a second finger, pumping them in and out of her slick heat. Wednesday's head thrashes on the pillow, her mouth falling open in a silent cry of pleasure.

Your thumb finds her clit again, rubbing firm circles around the sensitive nub. Wednesday's hips buck wildly, her body chasing the release you're so eager to give her.

"Please," she whimpers, her voice barely audible. "I need..."

But she doesn't finish the thought, her body arching off the bed as you curl your fingers just right. You can feel her getting closer, her walls fluttering around your digits.

With a final twist of your wrist, Wednesday comes undone, her body shaking with the force of her orgasm. You hold her through it, whispering words of praise and encouragement.

As she comes down from her high, you press soft kisses to her sweat-dampened skin, murmuring your love and devotion. Wednesday clings to you, her body still trembling with aftershocks.

In this moment, the rest of the world fades away. There is only the two of you, wrapped in each other's arms, basking in the afterglow of love and passion.

—

You wake to the sound of the door opening, your eyes fluttering open to find Wednesday still asleep beside you. For a moment, you simply lie there, taking in the sight of her.

Her dark hair is fanned out across the pillow, her face relaxed in sleep. Your gaze travels down her body, tracing the curves and dips you explored so thoroughly the night before.

The door swings open fully, revealing a surprised Enid standing in the doorway. Her eyes widen as she takes in the scene before her - you and Wednesday, tangled together in the afterglow.

"Oh," she breathes, her cheeks flushing pink. "I... I didn't know you two were..."

You sit up quickly, pulling the covers up to your chin. Wednesday stirs, her eyes blinking open in confusion.

"Enid?" she mumbles, her voice thick with sleep.

Enid clears her throat, averting her gaze. "Sorry," she says, backing out of the room. "I'll just... I'll leave you two alone."

The door clicks shut behind her, leaving you and Wednesday in a tense silence. You glance at her, unsure of what to say.

But Wednesday just sighs, turning to face you. "Well," she says, her tone dry. "That's one way to start the day."

[darlingdaisyfarm]

hi!! just wanna say you are my fav gravity falls author and im so obsessed with your fics for stan 🙏🙏 could i please have a stan x fem!reader smut where stan just REALLY likes tits. like a LOT. you have full creative freedom to go wherever you want with this idea i just wholeheartedly believe stan is a tit man <3 thank u and plz never delete this account youre the coolest 💞

Stan Pines is obsessed with you and your breasts ♡ (headcanons + blurb)

author note: hii, angel!! thank you sm for this sweet message, i'm literally melting and giggling and smiling rn!!! i can't even tell you how much this made my day, you're so kind and your words honestly mean the world to me 🤍 

i had so much fun with this idea, so here’s something for you bc ur wish is my command! i hope it’s what u expected. and thank you for supporting me! ♡

I need this grumpy old man so bad, guys send me more asks bout him also comments and/or reblogs are always appreciated, kisses u💋

nsfw, fem reader

♡ Stan is absolutely shamelessly obsessed with tits. your tits, specifically. big, small, somewhere in between, it doesn’t matter! he’s a hungry fucking man. he fucking loves breasts. worships them. adores them. can’t keep his damn eyes (or hands, or mouth) off them. “you’re gonna kill me with these things, doll, fuckin’ hell, look at ‘em.”

♡ the first time you caught him staring, you were a little shy about it, but he didn’t even try to deny it. “what? they’re right there! whaddya want me to do, not look? it’s like puttin’ a steak in front of a starving man and tellin’ him not to eat!” and you made the mistake of saying, “you could touch them if you wanted to.”

♡ because now his hands are always on you. always. you’re trying to cook? his big hands are sliding up your shirt, squeezing, kneading, thumbs brushing over your nipples, he’s testing just how fast he can make that little gasp slip from your lips. and god, all of that is being done with that smug grin on his face. “what? i’m helpin’.” sure, Stan. sure

♡ I wanna develop idea about cooking more, so: as i said, Stan can’t keep his hands off you when you’re cooking. for him it’s just an excuse to get his hands on your body. except him to come up behind you, press his broad chest into your back, let his hands rest in your waist as his lips ghost over your neck, muttering “damn, you look so pretty, baby, you sure you don’t wanna skip dinner and come straight to bed?” when he’s rubbing his growing bulge against you while you’re stirring the pot, literally humping you in the middle of the kitchen. It’s hard not to laugh at how desperate he is

♡ the type of man who’ll insist he’s innocent even when he’s shamelessly and obviously staring. you could be fully dressed, wearing the baggiest clothes known to man and this filthy old bastard is still eye-fucking you. “what? can’t help it, doll, you’re beautiful.” no shame. zero!

♡ of course Stan loves to bury his face in your chest. it’s his happy place there. his hands sliding up your sides as he presses his face between your breasts, groaning, “fuckin’ heaven, toots. yer like a damn pillow, but better, so soft, so warm.” while you let your fingers run through his hair. It’s more about being intimate and soft though

♡ “goddamn, look at these beauties. best fuckin’ view in the world, ain’t it?”

♡ he’s a sucker for leaving marks on your breasts. bite marks, hickeys, little bruises from his teeth and fingers

♡ uhh. . . hear me out, him stuffing dollar bills into your bra as a joke (or no). “figure they’re safer here than my wallet anyway.”

♡ Stan loves when you wear anything that lets him see your nipples, especially when they’re hard (from cold or because you’re horny?), he goes crazy when thin shirt or a dress hugs your body. “goddamn, sweetie, could stare at those for hours.”

♡ his guilty pleasure is watching you put lotion on after a shower. you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, smoothing the cream over your arms, shoulders and chest and that old man is drooling

♡ Stan is so domestic, he loves the way you look in the morning, your breasts barely covered by his tank top that you stole. you stretch, yawning, your nipples peeking through the thin fabric and he’s already pulling you back into bed. “don’t care what we had planned today, baby. yer stayin’ right here with me.”

♡ Stanley gets so distracted when you’re undressing in front of him. doesn’t matter if it’s casual or if you’re trying to tease him, once your top comes off, his eyes are immediately glued to you while his cock already twitching to life in his pants. “jesus christ, woman, yer tryin’ to kill me. c’mere and let me get my hands on ya.”

♡ and when he finally gets you laid out on the bed, his hands worshiping every inch of you, oh, he takes his sweet time. dragging his thumbs over the stiff peaks of your nubs, leaning down to wrap his lips around one, sucking gently before giving it a teasing bite. he’s grinning against your skin when you gasp his name, one hand slipping down to spread your thighs apart while he gets comfortable between them. “love when you make these sounds. what’d i do to deserve this, huh?”

♡ oh, his tongue too. it’s wet and warm, circling slow before he flicks the nub just to watch your back arch. his free hand squeezes your other breast, pinching and tugging lightly on the nipple. he groans from how heavenly you taste. “softest damn tits I’ve ever had my hands on. christ, baby, I love you so much.”

♡ if you let him, he’ll press his cock between your breasts, his hands squishing them together as he ruts into the softness, groaning like a goddamn mess. “fuck, baby— mhmm, your so fuckin’ soft, look at this, huh? takin’ me so good, atta girl.”

♡ more thoughts about breasts fuck. i personally think Stan would love it? because there’s something about the sight of his heavy cock sliding between your breasts, the way you press them together for him, making a perfect, soft little channel for him to fuck into like a needy old man he is. he gasps, praises you, worships you whole as he watches himself disappear between them, his tip slick and glistening with precum every time it peaks out

♡ “fuck, doll, keep squeezin’ ’em like that. jesus, yer gonna make me cum just from lookin’ at ya.” and he does, oh, he does. he spills his seed all over your chest. and when he’s finished, Stan isn’t shy about making a mess, watching his cum drip down your breasts

♡ when he’s drunk, Stan gets even more handsy than usual

♡ you get him worked up sometimes by accident. like, when you’re reaching for something high up on a shelf and your shirt rides up, giving him the perfect view of your waist, those soft curves that drive him absolutely crazy. Stan will mumble something like “god, babe—gimme a second, I gotta go fix somethin’ in the back room. . . you know how it is with my old bones.” but it’s all a damn lie because he just needs to take a breather after staring at your body for the last five minutes

♡ Stan absolutely loves when you’re riding him, leaning over with your tits pressed into his face. he doesn’t care if it’s just for a few seconds or longer, he wants to feel them on his lips. he’ll lift his head slightly to suck on your cute nipples or trail hot kisses down your cleavage, his hands gripping your ass as he pushes his hips up to meet you. “sh-shit, baby, lemme just. . .”

♡ you lean over the counter while talking to him, doesn’t matter if you’re talking about what’s for dinner or how the vending machine ate your dollar, his eyes are locked on your chest only, already undressing you in his mind. he’ll mutter something gruff like, “yeah, uh-huh”

♡ loves to make you squirm. Stan’s a teasing bastard and he knows exactly what he’s doing when he brushes his thumb over your sensitive nipple slowly, watching it pebble under his touch. “sensitive today, huh? what’s the matter, sweetheart? thought ya liked it when i played with these pretty little nubs of yours.” and then he pinches, just to hear you gasp and watch you press your thighs together 

♡ i swear, Stan will make excuses to get you on his lap, just so he can slide his hands under your clothes and play with you while you sit there all flustered, giggling silly. “ain’t no law against touchin’ my girl, is there? c’mon, lemme have my fun, been thinkin’ about these all damn day.”

♡ as I mentioned, he’s a sucker for when you’re on top, bouncing on his cock while his big hands squeeze your waist, holding you so tenderly in his arms despite how hard and rough he bucks his hips into you, his mouth is latched onto your nipples. the way your breasts move drives him insane

♡ during lazy, slow sex, Stan loves lying on his side with you pressed against him, one hand massaging your breast as he thrusts into you slowly from behind. his lips are at your ear, whispering filthy things about how soft and warm you feel

♡ but when it’s rough, he’s gripping your breasts so hard you’ll have finger-shaped bruises the next day, pinching your nipples just to watch you arch your back and tremble under him, “you like that, huh? that’s right, my good fucking girl,” and every word he says he punctuates with a thrust. “can’t get enough of me touchin’ you, can ya?”

♡ reminder: Stan doesn’t just love your breasts because they’re sexy, though, yeah, they are. he loves them because they’re yours. soft, warm, comforting, just like you. and if he can bury his face in them and forget about the rest of the world for a little while? that’s just the cherry on top! a nice bonus!

♡ bonus: little blurb 

sight of you in his suit jacket, oh god. that thing swallows you whole but it’s too big for you so it hangs off your shoulders, exposing your skin, letting him see your thighs as well. Stan’s jacket, smelling like cigars, is over you in a way that makes his throat go dry. and underneath that beautiful little bra you knew would make his head spin, it’s lace and soft cups hugging you in ways he wished his hands were right now. your cleavage drawing his attention like a magnet. no, it’s too goddamn much for Stan to handle

he’s slouched on the armchair, legs spread wide, trying to keep himself from losing control. his eyes latch onto the soft lace of your bra, the way it cups your tits just beautiful enough to tease him. he looks so needy already and you’ve barely touched him

“Jesus christ, doll.” sounds like he’s choking on his own breath. “yer doin’ this on purpose, parading around in my jacket, showin’ off these tits like some goddamn pin-up doll, huh.” his lips curl into a smirk

perfect, just exact reaction you waited. you bite your lip, stepping closer, swaying your hips for him. you play it coy, of course. shifting the jacket like it’s just slipping off, letting one strap of your bra peek out more. “what? this old thing?” you smile like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing

and then he’s got his hands on you in an instant, dragging you into his lap because he can’t stand another second of his pretty girl being out of reach. his palms feels rough as they grip your hips, tugging you down until your thighs straddle his.

“you tryin’ to kill me, toots? walkin’ around like that, wearin’ my jacket.”  

your knees settle on either side of him, and his hands waste no time sliding up your thighs, over your hips, and straight to your waist, holding you close to him because this man is always starved for physical contact. his thumbs dip under the edge of the jacket, brushing the bare skin just above your bra

“Staaanley,” you breathe, your lips hovering just above his. your hands tangling in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan.

“No, no, no, don’t you ‘stan’ me, pretty,” he mutters, and one of his hands slips behind your back to unclasp your bra with a flick of his fingers, the other cupping your breast like he’s been dying to touch you all day. “you don’t get to tease me like that, wearin’ this fuckin’ outfit, and then say my name like some innocent little thing. you know exactly what you’re doin’, don’tcha?”

his thumb brushes over your nipple and then his lips follow, placing wet and hot kisses along your breast, sucking gently before biting down to make you gasp.  

“That’s it,” he groans against your skin. “wanna hear all those pretty little sounds you make, baby. fuck, you’ve got me harder than a goddamn rock.”  

he’s saying true because you feel the evidence of that pressing against your core, even through your panties. his free hand slides between your thighs, fingers pressing against the damp fabric and you whimper when he rubs slow circles over your needy clit.  

Stan grins as he pushes the lace aside. “you’re fuckin’ soaked. all this from me touchin’ your tits? jesus, doll, yer even dirtier than i thought.”

his fingers tease your wet entrance, rubbing over your folds before dipping inside, and your head falls against his shoulder, moaning as he pumps them slow and deep.  

“C’mon, baby,” Stanley brushes his lips over your ear as he fucks you with his fingers, his other hand still kneading your breast. “tell me who you belong to. say my name, and i’ll give you everything you want. everything. I’ll fuck you so good.”

you moan his name, digging your nails into his shoulders 

“Yes, that’s it,” his hand moves faster. “gonna make you scream for me, sweetheart. make sure you never forget who you belong to.”

[selaphielss]

>be me, 23 >workin at the wood mill >hitting on general store woman, attempt #482 >unsuccessful, damn >traveler comes through town, oh wow another wood elf cool >"hey man do you mind giving this letter to a girl i like. yeah haha its kind of dumb i know. there's just this guy that she's into and he's such an asshole i don't even know why she's into him but i guess that's how stacies are hahaha-" >traveler wordlessly takes letter and disappears for ten minutes >okaythen >traveler reappears and tells me to come with him for an indeterminate amount of time and potentially die on the road >soundsgoodbro >traveler forgoes well marked dirt road and drags us up mountain >moves exclusively by jumping straight up the cliff face >almost die four times from bandits inhabiting decrepit ruin >traveler says nothing and hides behind walls while i slowly shoot down each person trying to kill us >i would die for this man >walk inside literal tomb >traveler flame spells last bandit >"oh thanks man i didn't see that.. guy..." >traveler is chewing on that guy's tibia >??? >wtf.jpeg >"faendal. it's time to learn the error of your ways." >???????? guys am i gonna die? time sensitive

I’m attempting to do a Skyrim run being a very strictly green pact devout wood elf and it’s harder than you’d think because you need to do a quest and get an item in order to do cannibalism in this game

[lucy90712]

Heyyyy ♡♡♡♡♡♡

Could I request a headcanon on the boys ( whoever you want) giving reader the orincess treatment?

Gavi: 

- He has always treated you like you'll disappear if he doesn't give you the best which of course he should do regardless but he always goes above and beyond because he wants you to feel like he's treating you like a princess at all times

- He does everything to make sure he's the best boyfriend you've ever had and hopefully good enough to be your last he's very good at it too he never takes you for granted and always makes sure he makes time for you especially when he knows you need him most

- You are his passenger princess 

- Once he had his license you were the first person he took out in his car he came straight from doing his test to your place to pick you up and take you somewhere he doesn't even have anywhere to go but he just drives around 

- Now that he can drive he won't have you driving him or yourself anywhere if he can help it he drives you to your classes and to see your friends purely because he loves driving you places as he gets to listen to you sing along to whatever playlist he plays in the car and he can hold your hand or have his hand on your thigh which he really enjoys as he loves to savour little moments like that 

- He absolutely loves late night drives and he will always bring you along with him as he drives to somewhere that he can park the car and you guys can just enjoy the scenery and he can just stare at you as you look better than the view to him anyway 

Pedri: 

- He was raised to always respect women and as soon as he got his first girlfriend his parents made sure he knew how to treat her even though he was young and that has only been drilled into him more as he's got older so he has always been a gentleman and treated women well 

- Because of this he has never given you anything but the best although he never thinks of it that way he's just treating you like he was raised to do but for you it feels so amazing to be almost worshipped by him as all your last boyfriends have done the bare minimum at most 

- Pedri always likes to make sure you are doing well as when you get stressed or overwhelmed you aren't yourself and he loves the not stressed you so he tries his best to make sure you never get to that point and you are always smiling as he loves your smile 

- When you have a busy week Pedri will get come over to your place every night and cook dinner for you or at least attempt to as he wants to know that you have at least one proper meal each day when you have a lot going on he will also take over some of your chores as he knows you hate living in a messy place and it will just stress you out more 

- You are always so thankful for what he does for you but he never accepts anything in return because he knows that you will do the same for him when he is schedule gets busy and you have many times

- When you live together none of this will change Pedri cares so much about you that he never wants to see you suffer when he help so even if he has a match that takes up most of his day he will still check in on you as he thinks that's the only right way to treat you 

Jude: 

- Jude treats you like a queen at all times because he knows that he should treat his girlfriend that way and because if he didn't his parents would kill him they have always taught him to be caring and treat others well especially friends and girlfriends 

- He always thinks that you deserve the world as you deal with so much like him not being around much, the constant media attention and all the negative comments on social media which he knows gets to you even though you say it doesn't 

- Obviously he can't change his schedule or what people say so instead he tries to make it up to you in any way possible which often involves spoiling you which he is lucky enough to be able to afford to get you anything you could possibly want 

- You are always telling him not to get you things but he does it anyway as he knows that you don't like to spend your money on unnecessary things for yourself so he does it instead because what's the point of earning the amount of money he does if he can't use it to spoil you 

- When you move to Madrid to live with him he gets you a brand new car as you can drive but you've only ever had old half broken cars so he gets you your dream car which you say is so that you won’t embarrass him if you drive him to training but really he just wants you to have the best 

- He also uses all his breaks to take you to the places you've always wanted to go he has a list of places you've said you want to visit so when he has some time off he picks somewhere off the list and books the plane tickets he loves doing this as he loves nothing more then seeing the smile on your face when you are exploring 

Joao: 

- Joao knows how to treat a woman right and he’s been in long term relationships so he’s pretty good at it but after his last relationship he blames himself for not being a good enough boyfriend  to her and not doing enough so he’s determined to not make the same mistake again 

- You always try and tell him that he wasn’t the reason his last relationship ended and that he’s more than good enough for you but still he insists on treating you like you are the only girl left on earth which obviously you love as he makes you feel so special 

- One of the many things that makes Joao a great boyfriend is that he knows you better than you know yourself at times he can pick up on when you are stressed and can help you before you have a breakdown and he just seems to always know how you are feeling without you telling him 

- To him being a good partner and treating you like a princess involves being attentive to your emotional wellbeing as well as your physical wellbeing because he’s been through hard time with no one to support him and he’s determined not to let that happen to you so whenever something bad happens he will be the one to be by your side and let you cry or listen to your feelings 

- Your relationship is very equal so all of your problems are his and vice versa that way you both always have someone to lean on when you need support as he didn’t have that in his last relationship which ultimately led to some of the downfall 

- Joao wants nothing more than to be the best partner he can be for you as he knows you deserve the best so even if at times he doesn’t think he’s enough he always tries his best and that’s what attracted you to him in the first place as all you care about is the fact that he’s trying as that’s all you can really ask for 

[velvetvexations]

slightly off-topic of this blog but i saw the weight kink anon and it reminded me of this video essay i watched about a person i know nothing about, except the video went into feederism in a really wild /neg way. like, i was really confused at first because they were using the term feeder as though it were synonymous with abuser, but like. i’ve come across a slight bit of feeding kink in my time and though im not invested in the community by any means, that seems like a bit of a jump. going through the video they kept equating feederism to abuser and it turns out they were using the term to reference specifically feeders that kill people. this isn’t hyperbole they were using the term feeder to talk about the people that get off to actually killing their partner through weight gain in real life. i’m not exactly an expert, but that feels out of line. you’re telling me the guy who likes fat women and enjoys feeding fat women is the same as the guy who has in real life killed his wife through a severely unhealthy diet? they acknowledged that feederism is an entire thing with varying levels and shit like any other kink and yet they kept describing feederism as specifically the ones that kill people. surely that’s not the majority of the community. can we not equate people with a kink to literal murderers. it didn’t help that i was sick when i watched it and it felt like i was having an honest to god fever dream it was that out of left field

sorry if this is an odd ask i just got very angry remembering that.

people are so fucking weird about weight gain kinks and it's frustrating because they usually dress it up in progressive language like "fetishization" and then sometimes they just go straight off the deep end into this bullshit

[toranoya]

Adam sat on the edge of her bed, his wings folding close as he exhaled deeply. “Kari,” he began softly, his voice uncharacteristically tender, “I get it. You want to help. You’ve got this crazy, burning need to fix everything, to save everyone. It’s a good thing—it really is—but you’re just one kid. One stubborn, scrappy, badass, loud-mouthed kid with more heart than sense.”

He reached out, resting a hand gently on her shoulder. “But here’s the thing: you can’t help anyone if you’re dead. Pushing yourself too hard, running straight into the fire without thinking, it’s just gonna get you killed. And then? No one benefits. Not Moxxie, not me, not the people you want to save.”

Adam’s tone shifted slightly, a tinge of regret slipping through. “As for Moxxie… Look, I liked the guy. For a shitty little Imp, he wasn’t half bad. Got a good head on his shoulders, even if it’s a little big for his body.” He smirked faintly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I hope he’s dead.” He held up a hand before she could protest. “And I mean dead dead, not shambling-around-like-one-of-those-zombies dead. No one deserves to go out like that. Least of all him.”

Adam leaned back, looking at her seriously. “You did what you could. You’re still doing what you can. But sometimes, helping doesn’t mean running into the fray right now. Sometimes it means sitting still, fortifying your spot, and living to fight another day. You’ve got a good head, Kari. Use it. We’ll find Moxxie if we can, but right now, you’ve gotta focus on staying alive and sane.”

He gave her shoulder a light squeeze. “That’s not giving up. That’s strategy.”

[maxwell-grant]

Didn't realize you've read Riddler: Year One, any thoughts on it ? Also, in a more general way, what are your thoughts on the Riddler ?

Someone sent me an ask the past week or so saying that The Penguin is everything that the Joker movies should have been, and I don't think I agree on that in regards to The Penguin specifically. But if we're talking about a "Batman-less Batman villain origin story about a lonely suicidal man struggling with poverty and mental illness exacerbated by child abuse, who is pushed down through the cracks of society deep into the pits of his own mind until he can only save himself by becoming a horrible force of social upheaval and political terrorism, finally discovering joy and a reason to live at the expense of everyone around him, and now he will be Batman's problem someday", well this just completely embarasses Joker (2019) on every level. Impressively drawn, impressively written, impressive on it's own and as a prequel to the movie, WAY better than a movie actor's comic book tie-in has any right to be, and one of the greatest Batman comics ever made. Issue #5 in particular is one of the best and most harrowing comic issues and format breaks I've ever seen in the medium, and even if it's entirely self-contained, it very much belongs in the exact same conversation and should be considered inseparable from The Batman and The Penguin.

We spens 4 issues boiling the frog over every painful corner of Edward's childhood and humanity and misery, taking us through painfully intimate views and perspectives inside his headspace, seeing how and why he justifies his worldview and how easy it even is to do so, feeling truly sorry for this hopeless wretch even though we know he's losing it bad bad baddy bad bad and is going to step off the deep end forever. And then Issue 5 happens and suddenly you are one of the people in Gotham City tasked with sifting through this serial killer's personal diary and you can hear that creep shouting with that distorted voice, you can feel the final death rattle of Edward Nashton's soul ending where The Riddler begins to scream in your head 'I NEVER KNEW I HAD A REASON TO BREATHE", and by Issue 6 you fully understand why and how nobody was prepared for him, and why what he is and does and embodies is going to drag the city into an abyss it may never recover from, and why this was never going to stop even after his arrest, even after his defeat and humiliation in the movie. Everything here adds layers of sympathy and tragedy and heartbreak to the character, while simultaneously making everything he is and does in the movie so much more harrowing and disturbing, holy shit he really staked EVERYTHING, everyone's lives included, on being noticed by his savior.

I was already very much on board with Dano Riddler in the movie, whose execution absolutely sold what should have been, on paper, a storm of unadvisable fandom pitches and uninspired trends and straight-up bad ideas ("What if The Ridder was the Zodiac Killer", "What if The Riddler was a 4chan mass-shooter type", "What if The Riddler was a political terrorist with legitimate grievances but whose final goal was to kill off scores of people for little reason", "What if The Riddler was a creepy fascist responsible for a QAnon cult that ends the movie by metaphorically storming the capitol", "What if The Riddler was really, really, really obsessed with Batman", "What if The Riddler was another Dark Opposite Batman", fucking "What if The Riddler was Hush" even) worked into just this miracle magic bullet of a new take on the guy, fully capturing a lot of the essential bullet points of what makes The Riddler tick as a character while spinning them into new and significant ways befitting this increased role he has in the movie. Rereading the story now, so much of the movie even feels like it's specifically referencing the first Riddler story - The Mayor of Gotham City as a target, Riddler misdirecting Batman with a big target while his real plan involved a flood, Edward putting on a costume and naming himself The Riddler specifically because he wants to get Batman's attention, the glass maze, the written letters to police headquarters, The Eagle's Nest that is a nightclub and also the home of a millionaire with a bird last name (Falcone), a driverless vehicle careening wildly into a public place, even how the very first thing we learn about this fucker is that he cheats to win.

The guy in the movie is a version that fully works on it's own, but it clicks SO much more strongly and cohesively when you read this comic and what it establishes for him. It's the scene in the movie where the section of his diary reads "I must become something more" while Bruce finds the panicked desperate bat rattling against a cage, the thematic parallel between them that is the scariest thing he finds in the entire movie, but developed across six issues. This even begins with Eddie living through his version of the Wayne murders, with the first time he's felt anything other than crushing despair and misery, in part because he's seen the first hint of the puzzle he needs to solve, and where he needs to go. The moment the world stopped making sense for Bruce is the moment that the world started to make sense for Edward.

We understand, around the same time he understands, the childish nightmare that must become the pattern of his entire life from that moment onwards, how Edward Nashton would have killed himself, and no one would have cared, had he not become The Riddler, and how the only alternative to "Hey Edward why don't you crawl into the black hole inside yourself" is to, in fact, find this black hole inside of you and shaped like you and push other people into it instead. Become the creature of the night who can punch crime forever, become the avenging force too great for the Falcones to handle, become the kingpin whose name alone will live forever, become someone that the entire city will never again ignore or forget.

We see how it's less that he's been planning for this for so long, and more that his entire life has been broken and hammered into a Riddler shaped hole, and then when Batman dropped into it, he could start to understand what it is and put a name in it, in the fact that he's been training his entire life for this without knowing. Getting comfortable with flushing rats and making bombs at the orphanage, getting intimately and painfully familiar with self-loathing and alienation and misanthropic contempt for this city and it's people who sit by and allow all of this to happen, surviving his suicide attempts without being able to explain why, searching for answers as to why it hurts so much to live broken and unfulfilled and miserable and why he even bothers to keep on doing so, having nothing to love in his life but numbers and puzzles, spending his entire life invisible while trying to get Thomas Wayne and then his boss to notice and praise him, and then being the wrong man at the right place to begin his campaign, a little nobody accountant who noticed an inconsistency in the numbers, put the pieces together, and then decided he was gonna do something about it because he knew it could be done, because there was someone out there who showed it could be done, and if Eddie joined in, maybe this someone would notice him, let him be his friend.

Batman and R, forever.

(People don't talk nearly enough about how this Riddler's entire life ambition was to recreate Tim Drake's origin story, and they should, it's pretty funny)

And to be honest, I think this is the first Riddler origin story I've ever really liked. Some of the others, particularly the first, have their charms, and this one certainly wouldn't fit most takes on the character, even most of the ones I like, but I've never really been fully sold on the idea of a Riddler origin story until this one, he's always been a very backstory-proof guy to me. This doesn't have any particularly obvious shorthand moment as to why Edward became The Riddler, so much as an entire life twisted and torn and abandoned and rotten in ways big and small until this is what came out of him. No immediately abusive fathers or test cheating scandals or major company backstabbings as defining tragedies, just life for a poor orphan in Gotham City who can't figure out the answer to what's missing from his life until he does.

Still a horrible nerd hopelessly trapped in a life of trying to intellectually one-up everyone as the only thing he lives for and, like every horrible nerd, knowing that one day he will be recognized for what he is and then they'll all see how wrong and stupid and savage these stupid savage idiots all were to look down on him. Still a man driven to impose order on the world the way he believes it has to be. Still a cheater who loves puzzles and answers and the thrill of intellectual stimulation and victory more than anything else (and in this case, having had absolutely nothing else to even love about his life), and still very much this guy at the end:

I do have a lot of thoughts on The Riddler, and I think part of why I might not talk about him as much is because he's not a character I tend to have really exclusive or particular preferences for. There are a LOT of Riddlers out there, maybe more so than there are Jokers out there, and there's not really with him the definitive must-be-like-this that the other Batman rogues have. Everybody approaches the puzzle differently if they do so at all, and I like a lot of these Riddlers! They connect with each other surprisingly well even, in spite of being incompatible as the same person.

He's gone through some real ups and downs over the decades: given stardom in the Adam West show that made him a definitive Batman villain and spread his modus operandi across all the others, sacrificed in the altar of camp insecurity along with fellow snooty oddball Penguin, defanged and turned into a parody of himself, refitted for joke status, re-refitted for surprise baddie status, given a whole new lease on life and his own gimmicks with the arrival of computer puzzles and the internet and given his fangs back and then amplified, pushed back to the big leagues more horrible and topical than ever before and exponentially increasing as such until his next big movie showing, torn in multitudes across multiverses of takes and ideas, almost too many to even consolidate them all.

I like the first Riddler of Bill Finger's original story in Tec #140, this curious satisfaction-seeking master cheater growing exponentially more dangerous and more varied and more assured the more he fades into his endless barrage of traps and toys and puzzles,. I love Frank Gorshin's Riddler, and everybody loves Frank Gorshin's Riddler, he is the reason The Riddler became an iconic Batman villain overnight. I like John Glover in TAS, and I like Robert Englund's cold ghostly showman in The Batman (2002) much more. I love the Arkham games version of Riddler, probably because I never actually played the games and had to collect his dumb trophies. I love Paul Dini's Detective Riddler, and I especially love Brent Spiner's take on the guy for Justice League Action. I LOVE the more classic take on Riddler as played by John Leguizamo in The Batman Audio Adventures, and I LOVE Paul Dano's Riddler in The Batman, and they couldn't be more incompatible with each other.

I love the Riddlers who continuously undermine themselves in the name of criminal artistry and who look down on the profit-seeking rubes who think any of this is about money, and I love the Riddlers who are ultimately con-men doing money heists because they want to be the only crooks in town smart enough to have something to show for all their work at the end of the day. I like Riddlers who are widely despised and regarded with annoyance and disdain by the city and their fellow rogues, and I like the Riddlers who have good professional relationships with the other rogues, and the Riddlers who managed to become darkly inspiring figures in their own right. I love the Riddlers who've subsumed themselves into the mysteries and horror they embody, and I love the pathological pattern-finders trying to find a way out of this weird pathetic life, even if their efforts will be doomed to failure - The Riddler couldn't out-think his way out of Batman's toybox no matter how much he tried, and he has no desire to - where would it leave him? Down there with all the troglodytes? Please.

I can get on board with very human, conversational Eddies, the Eddies that did stints as sideshow carnies, that can tell on some level that they should be doing better things than this, who'll do bored stick-em-ups to fund the attention-seeking tantrums they're actually passionate about, and I can get on board with Eddies who are truly uniquely vile and scary even compared to the other Rogues in the room, who uphold this terrifyingly cold perversion of fairness, imposing a stark and utilitarian worldview on the city by which the penalty for falling short of his games is murder, that sheer calculated murderous menace that Frank Gorshin brought when he ended his first episode leering on a helpless Robin strapped to an operating table. And if I ever thought I couldn't get on board with the Riddler as a major serious scary existential threat to life on Gotham, well, The Batman sure proved me wrong. I may not love him as passionately as I do The Penguin or Hugo Strange, but I love too many versions of this guy to ever be able to narrow them all down, and there are even more still to be discovered.

Endlessly adaptable, able to change and mutate with the times on the same kinds of grand orchestral shifts and minute beats that Batman does, a greater variety of personalities than the Joker if not quite the same versatility (and where would we be without these two always pissing each other off or making out or both, living in each other's respective negative spaces), always an enduring and entertaining opponent regardless of whether he's the most pathetic man alive or a malevolent genius beyond understanding who routinely puppeteers an entire city and it's greatest hero into putting on their greatest performances for him. Always an adapting puzzle box, always leading into the next version of himself, always beguiling, and always becoming the most frustrating thing that Batman has to deal with, whether he's systematically destroying Batman's rationale and will and ability to be Batman or just being naturally the worst guy to deal with at the most unfortunate possible moment, in itself another key to his endurance. The Joker can murder sidekicks and torch the city and routinely try and drive Batman to breaking points of rage and indignity and despair - but sometimes The Riddler can get Batman there just by being himself, as anyone who's had to deal with this asshole in the Arkham games can attest.

It is imperative to believe in and understand Batman's worldview that his villains can be saved because everyone can and must be saved, just as it is to understand that, out of everyone in his Rogues Gallery, if The Riddler was drowning, Bruce would be inclined to throw him a cinderblock, and The Riddler would be glad to receive it, so long as his last gasps of breath could be spent laughing at Batman's inability to match wits with him.

For a villain who is meant to be fixated on knowing the one correct answer to every riddle, he’s uniquely able to be reinterpreted in endless new ways. He’s gone from being a camp and colorful performance artist to one of the most sadistic and sinister villains Batman can ever go up against. There is no one way to write a Riddler. There’s no single solution! And writers will always like the challenge that presents.

Just when readers think they’ve seen everything the Riddler has left to offer us, and the character is finally exhausted… a new lime-green envelope pops through the door of Wayne Manor to challenge us all once again. It seems we’ll never get tired of trying to unravel the Riddler, and writers will never give up on unraveling the character’s fullest potential. It unites readers, writers, and caped crusaders alike: this time, surely, we’ll crack him. - Batman's Greatest Enemy is...The Riddler, by Steve Morris

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 20

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11 || PART 1 || PART 13 || PART 14 || PART 15 || PART 16 || PART 17 || PART 18 || PART 19

Chrissy is willing to admit that when Steve doesn’t call her after his date, she panics. If her mom wasn’t such a light sleeper, she would’ve snuck out to check up on him. But instead, she wallows, dozing on the couch, not even able to call Jeff to bitch because what if Steve chooses that moment to call?

So, she can admit, when he finally calls a few minutes after seven in the morning, she’s a little short with him.

“Finally, Steven,” she hisses into the phone, keeping her voice quiet so as not to alert her mother to their conversation. “I thought you were dead in a ditch somewhere!”

“Sorry, sorry!” he rushes out, sounding contrite. “We sort of fell asleep.”

Chrissy gasps, a smile slowly spreading on her face as the implications set in. “You guys slept together?” she demands gleefully.

“We didn’t have sex!” he shouts, and she’s glad, for the first time, that his parents are so absent from his everyday life. “We just fell asleep!”

She’s still smiling, twirling the phone cord round and round her fingers. “Does that mean it went well?” she wheedles.

She doesn’t think that Eddie would suddenly realize he’s straight and renege on the date, not really, but Steve had, and she can’t get the terrified tone of his voice out of her head.

“Well—” he drawls, leaving her on tenterhooks for a few seconds more. “He took me to see some shitty horror movie.”

“Oh my god,” she whispers, full-on grinning now. “What a stereotypical move.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he replies so wryly that she can almost see the way his eyes must be rolling. “Except he barely talked to me the whole time and didn’t even try to hold my hand.”

“No!”

“And then he took me into the woods like some sort of serial killer, and then tried to kiss me so abruptly that my lip split a little.”

“No!” she shrieks with laughter before catching herself and slapping a palm over her own mouth as Steve’s own amused chuckle filters through the phone line. “And you still spent the night?”

“He was nervous!” Steve defended. “And besides, the second kiss was much better.”

“Your boy’s a fast learner, huh?”

Steve hums, and she wishes he was here with her, so she could see the dopey grin that must be on his face as he says, “yeah,” with a dreamy sigh. “He took me stargazing.”

Chrissy coos, can’t help it, not when this whole thing’s been building for so long now. Not when there’s been an edge of fear to everything Steve’s said for months. He deserves something nice for once.

“And you’re going out again?”

“Oh, definitely,” he replies, and a knot of fear she’s had tucked beneath her sternum loosens.

He sounds excited, happy, hopeful. If Eddie does anything to jeopardize this, Chrissy will be digging a very deep hole and tossing him into it. She’s got a shovel, and the muscle strength built up from years of cheer—she’ll manage just fine.

So, when Eddie walks up to her in the cafeteria in some sort of fucked up parallel to that first time and bends at the waist in a showy bow, hand outstretched as he asks, “a word, madam?” she’s ready to kill him.

But, when she glances at Steve at her side, his ears are red, and he’s smiling up at Eddie from beneath his lashes. And when she looks back toward Eddie she catches the tail-end of a wink that has Steve sputtering.

Even Jason doesn’t protest from the other side of the table where he’s quietly seething.

So, she takes his hand and follows him out of the cafeteria.

Eddie doesn’t seem to know where he’s going, as he walks through the halls, peering into nooks and crannies until he finds a corner he deems suitably vacant enough. He flops down, legs outstretched in front of him, uncaring of the dirt caking the floor.

He pats the spot next to him, smiling up at her, so she slides down the wall and crouches beside him, unwilling to let her bare legs touch the floor.

Eddie leans away from the wall and wrestles his jacket off before placing it on the floor in front of Chrissy. Gratefully, she sits atop it, crossing her legs to keep them safe. She turns her body so she’s facing Eddie dead on, and he follows her lead.

When he doesn’t say anything, she breaks the silence with a quiet, “I hope you know that if you hurt my friend, I’ll kill you.”

“I have no doubt, Lady Cunningham,” Eddie replies, drawing an X across his heart with his finger. “But, I’m not here to talk about Steve.”

“Then—what?”

He’s grimacing now, no longer meeting her eyes as he fiddles with his rings, one of his fingers bizarrely missing its usual adornment. “We’re friends, right?” he asks hesitantly, like he’s choosing each word with deliberate care.

“Of course,” she replies, eyes trained on the little furrow between his brows. He’s picking at a hole in the knee of his jeans, further fraying the edges. “Why would you ask that?”

He sighs, slumping into himself in a way that makes him look small. “I’m glad I’m here, okay?” he asks, not waiting for her to answer before he continues. “Steve’s great, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything. But, you still lied to me—"

"We never lied to you," she cuts in, and he waves his hand in assent.

"Yeah, yeah, but you all like, conspired behind my back, and that feels…”

“Shitty,” she continues for him when he seems to lose his words.

“Yeah! Shitty, it feels shitty that you were all talking about me behind my back all so you could keep this from me."

Chrissy sighs. She’d known they’d have to talk about it eventually–clear all this stale air so they could move on–but it doesn’t make it any less uncomfortable. But, he’s right; no matter their intentions, they’d all made a mess of things. She’d known that even as she’d been in the thick of it.

So, she starts where these things should always start, and looks him dead in the eye as she says, “I’m sorry.”

He finally looks up, seeming almost surprised. “Just like that?”

“Yes, Eddie, just like that,” she replies, maintaining eye contact even as her gut squirms. “We were just trying to protect each other, but that doesn’t mean it was the right choice.”

His eyes are wide, still shocked, and she wonders, something uncomfortably close to pity bubbling up within her, if he’s not used to receiving apologies at all.

“Both of you?” he asks.

Chrissy averts her gaze, mouth twisting up. “You know how Steve said Jason has been kind of stalkery?” she asks, watching Eddie nod out of the corner of her eye before she continues. “Well, it was worse before. He kept coming to my house and cornering me at school, and I just wanted to move on.”

It was more than that, though. She still remembers the way fear crept down her spine as cold sweat when she’d opened her door to Jason smiling at her like they’d never broken up, the way her throat had closed up when he’d scooted far too close to her side at the lunch table.

The way he kept cornering her in the hallway when no one was around to witness it. 

“So, when I found Steve trying to write that first letter, I struck a deal,” she continues. She feels bad about that, even now, even still. “He’d be my boyfriend, and I’d help him with the letters.”

She finally turns back to Eddie, braced for, what? Condemnation? But he’s squinting at her like she’s a puzzle he’s trying to crack as he says, “you totally would have helped him anyway,” with so much conviction that it warms her. 

“Oh, definitely.”

He’s still looking at her, but he’s smiling at her, eyes warmer than she’s ever seen them. 

“Alright, I forgive you,” Eddie says, like it’s easy.

It’s too easy. 

“Just because we had reasons doesn’t mean it was fair to you,” she replies, steel in her voice as she squares her shoulders and looks at him dead on. “It doesn’t mean you weren’t hurt,” she finishes, reaching out to pat his knee.

He doesn’t jerk away, just looks at her hand on his knee with a peculiar smile on his face. “You know there was a time when you touching me like that would’ve sent me into a tizzy,” he says, still looking down at her hand.

“And now?”

“Nothing,” he replies, shrugging. “It was never you, Chrissy Cunnigham.”

“You either, Eddie Munson,” she replies, matching his smile as she smacks his hand once before withdrawing. “Now is that it, or was there something else you needed?”

He looks away, cheeks darkening to a blotchy red, she’s almost worried he’ll faint. “I, uh, well, the jacket?”

She thinks of Eddie’s jacket beneath her first, but that’s not where he’s looking. His eyes are planted firmly on the sleeve of Steve’s letterman with a sort of longing that’s almost funny in its intensity.

She doesn’t ask any follow up questions—if he wants the jacket, he can have the jacket. After all, it’s Steve’s no matter how attached to it she’s become, and Steve had looked up at him with the sappiest look she’s ever seen on his face.

She’d do more than give up his letterman to keep him happy.

Still, it feels strange when she pulls it off her back. A shiver runs through her–she feels almost naked without its familiar weight. 

Since that first day in the library, it’s been her shield against Jason’s pushy advances, and her reminder that, no matter what happens, she’d still have Steve. 

But, Jason’s backed off, and everywhere she turns, she sees her people: Steve, yes, but Jeff, and Eddie, and the Hellfire boys–even Robin. Her life’s full to bursting in a way that it’s never been before. 

Chrissy will miss it, but she doesn’t need it anymore. Besides, she knows where Steve keeps his spare key, and she’s not above stealing something else from his closet. 

“Jeff’s going to be sad,” she says, patting the bundled fabric in her arms like it’s a favored family pet, feeling strangely choked up. “He really liked it.”

Eddie grimaces down at it and asks, “do I need to get this thing dry cleaned?”

Chrissy throws her head back and laughs. “No, but if you would’ve waited a few more days, you might have.”

He makes a gagging noise, but when she holds it out for him, he readily takes it, even if he doesn’t put it on. She wonders if it’s fear of homophobes or the thought of her and Jeff’s bodily fluids that stops him. She’s polite enough not to ask, even as Eddie says, “Wait, is it you wearing it or him that Jeff likes?”

She opens her mouth to reply, ready to offer up a vague “both,” but Eddie holds up his hand and cuts her off, talking quickly like he’s afraid of what she might say. “Wait, don’t tell me. I really, really don’t need to know.”

Chrissy springs to her feet and picks Eddie’s own leather jacket up off the floor and sliding it on. It’s even baggier than Steve’s was on her, clearly designed for layering. “I’m borrowing this,” she says, turning her back on him and making her way toward her next class just as the warning bell rings. “It’s cold today.”

“Don’t do any weird sex things with it!” Eddie calls.

She laughs again, making a point to neither confirm nor deny her intentions no matter what he yells after her retreating back.

When Jeff slides into her passenger seat after school, he quirks a brow at her new look, and asks, “that Eddie’s?” as he buckles his seatbelt.

“He wanted Steve’s,” she says, reaching out to pat his knee consolingly.

“I’m going to miss that jacket,” Jeff sighs, looking genuinely forlorn for a second before he gets a particular gleam in his eye that Chrissy’s becoming increasingly familiar with. “You know—”

“Eddie requested that we don’t ‘do any weird sex things’ with his jacket,” she cuts in, putting her car in reverse and slowly backing out of the spot.

Jeff groans like he’d been shot, and throws his head back into the headrest. She reaches out to dig her fingernails into his knee, just this side of too-hard so his groan shifts into a hiss.

“I know, baby,” she says, smiling sweetly at him as they pull away from the school. “But, I’ll get your mind off it in no time.”

Jeff gulps, and doesn’t utter another complaint for the rest of the night.

***

Robin watches Chrissy follow Eddie out of the cafeteria. Even after the door closes behind them, she keeps staring, wanting desperately to know what they’re talking about. This might have all started because of her crush on Chrissy, but Robin’s nosy at heart, so even as the flames of her crush burn down to embers, she wants to know.

Steve had called her on Saturday, spilling all the details of what sounded like a truly horrible date as if it was some sort of fairy tale while Robin cackled in his ear. But he’d sounded buoyant with exhilaration, and all Robin had been able to think about was that he’s like her and he’s happy.

Maybe there’s hope for her, too.

Robin’s broken out of her reverie by a shoulder bumping into hers. “Should we help him?” Vickie whispers, and it takes Robin a minute to snap her eyes away from her vibrant green eyes to follow her gaze over to Steve.

All the losers he’s still pretending to be friends are jeering at him, Tommy H. going so far as to slip into Chrissy’s vacant seat so he can jostle Steve around with a decidedly unfriendly look on his face while Steve picks halfheartedly at his lunch.

Robin’s out of her seat before she can even think about it, palms slapping noisily on the table as she calls. “Harrington!” Steve perks up, metaphorical tail wagging as he meets her eyes from across the room. “Come help me win a bet!”

He’s up and out of his seat in a matter of seconds, leaving the remains of his lunch abandoned on his table as he trots over, slipping into the empty seat across from her while all the other band kids look at him like he’s got the plague.

“What’s the bet?” he asks, looking far more relaxed already than he had while surrounded by his supposed friends.

Robin kicks him under the table as she replies, “the bet was whether you’d come when you’re called.”

“Oh, hardy har har,” he mocks, kicking her right back until she links both her feet around his ankle and yanks him so he damn near falls off his seat.

“Poor little puppy,” she coos, reaching across the table to pat his head while he bats her hand away.

Vickie’s laughing from beside her; it rings through Robin’s ears like church bells. She gets stuck, staring at the pink of her cheeks, the red of her hair, the mirth in her emerald green eyes, hand still outstretched toward Steve’s hair.

He kicks her again, and she snatches her hand back, grateful for the intervention until she catches sight of the knowing look Steve’s shooting her. In retaliation, she grabs one of her carrot sticks and tries to shove it down his throat.

“Not a word, Harrington, or we’re through,” she hisses, finally succeeding in shoving the carrot into his mouth.

“You guys are so funny,” Vickie says, still laughing.

Steve smiles, carrot sticking out of his mouth like it’s a cigar until he bites into it with a snap, seeming oddly satisfied.

Chrissy and Eddie don’t come back, and by the time lunch is over, the rest of the band kids have finally stopped sitting there like scared lemmings, waiting for King Steve Harrington to attack. She’s sure they’ll soon learn what Robin already knows: the king is dead, long live the king.

She loves him so much, it’s almost stupid.

“So, Steve Harrington, huh?” Vickie asks, inexplicably walking out of the cafeteria with her even though Robin knows for a fact her class is on the opposite side of the school.

“I mean, yeah?” Robin replies, feeling her face heat from the inside out. “He’s just like, not what I was thinking at all, and maybe the best friend I’ve ever had, which is crazy—it’s crazy, because it’s Steve Harrington, right?” Her hands, she realizes with horror, are miming an explosion above her head while her mouth makes a weird, crackling explosion sound. “Who would’ve guessed?”

When she finally gets her mouth flapping under control, Vickie’s smiling at her, walking close enough that the sleeve of her sweater brushes against Robin’s bare arm.

“I don’t know, I always thought he seemed nice.”

Robin’s nodding along like one of those bobble head hula girls that boys are always putting in their cars, even though Steve Harrington isn’t nice. He’s an unmitigated bitch with a sacrificial streak a mile wide, but he’s not nice.

“He’s like a stray that I let into my house one time, and then my mom fed him, so now he keeps following me home,” her mouth says.

Vickie’s mouth laughs in return, so maybe it’s not all that bad.

Robin’s mind replays the angelic sound as she walks into her class, waving goodbye to Vickie as the other girl rushes away in a mad dash to make it on time to her next class.

God, Steve’s going to be such a bitch about this.

 ***

After Eddie’s talk with Chrissy, things shift.

Steve doesn’t sit with the jocks at all anymore. He and Chrissy, still joined at the hip like they really are dating, shift back and forth between the band geeks and the hellfire tables at lunch on Tuesday, prompting hushed whispers to filter through the entire cafeteria.

For his part, all Gareth says is, “does this mean you two’s weird feud over Chrissy is finally over?”

Jeff snorts chocolate milk out of his nose while Eddie laughs so hard he nearly falls off the bench entirely, only staying upright because Steve props him up.

“What?” Gareth demands, tearing into his chicken strips with a viciousness that betrays his ire.

“They’ll tell you when you’re older,” Doug replies despite having no idea himself.

Eddie loves his friends so fucking much.

By Wednesday, a clearly fed up Robin frog-marches the pair of them to the Hellfire table and plops down beside them.

“Munson, I can’t do this split custody thing anymore,” she says, making the red-head that’d followed her over giggle. “They’re too much of a handful.”

“Or maybe even two handfuls,” Steve replies, across the table at her like he’s not playing the most overt game of footsie right below it.

“Don’t be gross, dingus,” she scoffs, and Eddie’s mind goes galloping off with thoughts he shouldn’t be having in a room full of teenagers just waiting to push someone a few more rungs down the ladder.

“Are you guys coming back to Hellfire?” Gareth asks, clearly unable to stand not knowing what’s going on a second longer.

Steve looks at Eddie, brown eyes devastating beneath his lashes. “I’d like to.”

Eddie opens his mouth, ready to grovel at Steve’s feet to get him to come, to get him to keep looking at him like that, but then Robin cuts in with a sly, “you know this means you’ll have to come to Steve’s basketball games,” and he slams his mouth shut.

Steve grins, all seduction dropping off his face as he reaches across the table to give Robin a high five like they’re already on the fucking court. She slaps his palm hard enough that the sound of skin on skin damn-near shatters the sound barrier.

“We can sit together,” Jeff says, but he’s not even looking at Eddie, eyes trained on Chrissy’s blushing face. “It’ll be fun.”

Eddie groans and lets gravity overtake him, dropping his head to the table so suddenly that it would have hurt if Steve hadn’t put his palm over the spot just in time. Eddie turns his face so he can glare up at the other boy, but Steve looks so hopeful and excited that he has to look away again, burying his face into Steve’s palm.

“Fine, I’ll go,” he drawls, lips brushing against Steve’s hand with each word.

“What the hell is happening?” Gareth demands.

Much to his dismay, no one replies.

Things slide back to normal after that—Chrissy and Steve showing up to band practice and hellfire and lunch like nothing had ever come between them. But, it’s better now because Steve knocks their feet together beneath tables, and lets his hands settle on knees and stares just a little too long at Eddie’s lips.

It’s driving him crazy; he wants to reach out and touch, reach out and take.

But that’s not something that’s allowed. Boys are born in their own, invisible bubbles to keep them from touching other boys. Eddie doesn’t know how he never noticed it before, but he wants to shatter it like glass, let it cut up his feet if it means he can brush his lips against Steve’s.

There are all these rules left unwritten, but flung at their feet like slurs: don’t stand too close, don’t look too long, don’t dare to touch.

He wants to, though, thinks maybe in the confines of Gareth’s garage and behind the closed doors of the drama room he could, and it would be safe.

But they live in Hawkins, Indiana, and he’d like to live long enough to get the hell out of here.

So he lets their feet tangle beneath tables and doesn’t lean across them to have a taste, no matter how often Steve licks his lips.

Friday can’t come soon enough.

***

Robin’s been twitchy for days by the time she pulls Steve into their bathroom stall. He follows her dutifully, only laughing a little as she pulls a towel out of her backpack and lays it down before sitting on the floor.

“You plan this, Birdie?” he asks, settling across from her, the towel beneath them insulating him from the cold that’s seeping up from the floor.

Robin’s face turns a blotchy red like a blood vessel burst and dispersed beneath her skin. “Boobies,” she blurts, staring at him with beseeching eyes before she slaps her hand over her mouth, eyes wide.

Steve nods, his attempt at sage wisdom undercut by the way he has to bite his lip to stop from laughing at her. “Boobies, yes,” he chokes out. “I’ve, uh, heard of them.”

That’s all it takes for Robin to kick out at him. When her foot gets dangerously close to his crotch, Steve grabs her ankle and cradles her foot in his lap, rubbing the bone.

“Don’t make fun of me!” she whines, still trying to kick him.

“Okay, okay!” he cries out, chuckling as he holds onto her leg for dear life. “Sorry, just—what’s this about boobies?”

“Stop saying boobies!”

Steve uses his free hand to lock up his mouth and toss the invisible key into the toilet, smiling as the blush on Robin’s cheeks creeps up her nose and onto her forehead until she resembles an especially square tomato.

“Vickie—”

And Steve can’t help it, he really, really can’t. “Has nice boobies?” he cuts in, already grabbing at both her legs to stop her jackrabbiting feet from finally landing a blow to his balls.

“I hate you!” Robin shrieks, but even she’s laughing now as she writhes atop the towel, scrunching it as she earth-worm-inches closer to him so she can slap at his ribs while he’s defenseless. “Steve Harrington, you’re the worst thing that ever happened to me!”

She tries to say it with conviction, but Steve’s hands have crept beneath her crew socks, and his fingers are tickling against the inside arch of her foot, so her words come out more as shaky exhalations of laughter. He wiggles his fingers as she squirms away, kicking out with such reckless abandon that one of her feet breaks free and kicks him far too high on his inner thigh for comfort.

“Get your boy cooties off me!” she demands, and he does, pulling his hands out of her socks as she backs away until she’s leaning against the opposite side of the wall again, pouting at him. “You’re the worst.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he replies, feeling lighter than air. “Now tell me about Vickie’s girl cooties.”

Robin smiles bashfully, pulling her knees up to her chest and hugging them. “Vickie doesn’t have cooties,” Robin replies, gaze distant. She looks wistful, enamored, hopeful. “She walked me to class the other day, even though I know it made her late.”

“Yeah?” Steve prompts, helpless to do anything but to smile back.

“Yeah,” she replies. “And maybe it’ll be like Chrissy again, you know? But you and Eddie…” Robin kicks out at him again, nudging her foot into his and then leaving it there, their soles pressed together. “Maybe there’s more of us out there than I thought.”

“Yeah,” Steve breathes, absolutely in love with brave, hopeful, honest Robin, here in this stall, in this moment. “Maybe there are.”

They smile at each other, two queer kids in the bathroom together, seeing themselves in each other, again, and again, and again. Steve hopes they’ll always be like this, here, on the bathroom floor, finding hope in each other’s smiles. He has Chrissy, and Jeff, and Eddie now, too. But, Robin will always be the first person who looked at him and made him feel seen.

“We should get married,” he says, not thinking about it before it comes out of his mouth and hangs in the air between them, making Robin’s eyes bug out of her skull. “Just think about it! Eddie and I can’t get married, and neither can you and Vickie—”

“You’ve literally gone out with the guy once, and we don’t even know if Vickie likes girls yet—”

“—but we could totally just marry each other instead!”

The silence of the bathroom rings once Steve’s declaration is out there. Robin swallows, throat bobbing, eyes wide enough that Steve can see the little red veins near the back. Suddenly, Steve wonders if he’s stepped over some line he didn’t even know was there.

Before he can spiral too far, Robin launches herself across the space between them, knees bracketing Steve’s hips as she leans over and bites his shoulder, hard.

“Ow, Robin!”

“You’re insane, Dingus, you know that?” she asks, moving away from his shoulder to plant a kind of wet kiss against his forehead. “I’m sixteen, and you’re proposing in the boy’s bathroom.”

She rubs her hand against his head, likely fucking his hair up beyond repair, but he doesn’t even care because she kisses him again, this time on the top of his head.

“I meant like, later?” Steve says shyly.

He’s always fallen hard and fast, knows that about himself. It’s a fundamental law of the universe: gravity makes things fall down, the earth’s always spinning on an axis, and Steve Harrington puts his whole heart into people who don’t always give it back.

But Robin’s on his lap, kissing his head, and leaking what’s either snot or tears into his hair. “Alright,” she warbles, sounding embarrassingly soggy. “When I get a girlfriend, we can just be permanent beards for each other.”

Steve puts his arms around her and hugs her tight, mashing his face awkwardly into her neck as she laughs. “Grow old in separate bedrooms,” he replies.

“Gotta keep our cooties separate,” she says, like she’s not currently dripping on him on the floor of the boy’s grimy bathroom.

He just squeezes her tighter and gives her a little shake, like a dog with its favorite toy. “Tell me about Vickie,” he demands, but it sounds a whole lot like I love you when it comes from his mouth.

“Okay,” she replies, and it sounds a lot like I love you, too.

[rad-roche]

of all the things i've been wanting to draw for the comic, from the funny silly stuff to the longer, more serious things like lead paint, the one part i've been most looking forward to is the whole winter confrontation in dead man talking, on account of the genre change to a straight up noir, it's handled differently than in the game. nick's talk of exacting justice and doing a good thing is a pretty flimsy pretence and by the time he gets in there he's clearly psyching himself up to kill this guy in cold blood and gets more and more wound-up and frantic until he finally ends up doing it. nick gets to the point where he starts scaring gloria, who's pretty bloodthirsty herself

i actually started drawing it about six months ago, but scrapped the whole thing. i didn't have the chops, and i might still not, but i'm more confident now

it's gonna be so fun to whip out those kinds of expressions visually, i don't think i've ever drawn him like that! ideal situation would be a lot of people dipping out halfway through the comic not because they don't want to read it, but because they can't stand to. i'm going all in bebby

[maidflowery]

Fortified Wager ♣♣♣ 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 8

♦︎♦︎ Aventurine x Reader ♦︎♦︎ 𝕀𝕝𝕝𝕦𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕

🄱🄰🄲🄺 🅃🄾 【Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ 7】

𝕋𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕠𝕗 ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥

𝐂𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝐕𝐒 𝐁𝐢𝐠 𝐁𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 (𝟏)

╔══ ≪ ♥♦♥ ≫ ══╗

“See? You should have just kept quiet and done as you were told. The truth is, I actually like you. You’re quiet and obedient.”

When Big Baddie stood up, you realized he was twice your size.

So, you let the gems fall, teetering on the edge of the table as bait.

Sorry, Aventurine.

Meanwhile, you let your watch slid over your knuckle as a makeshift brass knuckle. There was no way you’d deal any real damage otherwise.

“I was just trying to save you, you know? I’m sure you also don’t know this, but that Avgin slave over there killed his owner.”

The moment he leaned in, eager to grab a hold of the gems, you swung your fist straight into his face!

“Of course I know, you piece of shit!

Otherwise, what kind of Aventurine’s fan were you?

“Uuoorrggh—!!”

As your fist connected with his nose, you felt the sharp impact reverberate through your knuckles, followed by a sudden, jarring crunch. Big Baddie took the punch square in the face and staggered backward. Soon, he lost his balance and fell, crashing to the ground in a heap.

Regret always came too late.

As you watched your wristwatch fell, shattering its glass on the floor, you realized you still loved it after all!! Also, your hand hurt like a bitch! Shit! Fuck! You could feel tears welling up in your eyes.

Above all, you were furious.

Aventurine never even brought up his past, so who the fuck gave this guy the right to do so?!

You recalled how the pair of violet-cyan eyes looked so lifeless and devoid of emotion the moment his past was mentioned. It was clearly something difficult—something he preferred to keep private, and for obvious reasons.

If Aventurine were a male lead in a romance novel, it would have taken over 100 chapters and three different arcs before he revealed his past!! Even then, it would be only to the person he trusted most, someone he felt comfortable being vulnerable with!! That was just how delicate this was!!

And yet, and yet... this guy, heartlessly, in front of everyone...

In the past, Aventurine's entire family and clan were massacred by their enemies. Though he survived the ordeal, he was soon enslaved. Only God knows the depths of trauma and torment he suffered at their hands—enough to drive him to kill.

“—Hahahaha! Of course! Of course she doesn’t know! That's what you get for letting his looks fool you!”

“Do you know how hard I’ve been holding back my laugh?! I was wondering how to break the news this whole time! Hahahaha!”

Of course, taking a life was rarely, if ever, justified.

But that is not a reason to laugh at or shame him?! Especially not this bastard, who drove two innocent children to seek revenge!!

A single tear rolled down your cheek. Regret, anger, sorrow and pain washed over you all at once—mostly pain.

While shaking your stinging hand like crazy, you screamed at Big Baddie, “But so what—?! So what if he killed his master?!”

If you were beaten within an inch of your life every day and treated far worse than an animal, what would you do?

If you had nothing left to live for but to await your death at the hands of your enslaver, how would you respond?

“—I’d have done the same!!”

Your shoulders heaved up and down as you struggled to regain composure. All you knew was that you were ranting out of sheer rage.

“Shut up!!” Big Baddie stood up while covering his nose. He glowered at you like a beast, blood oozing out of his hands. “You're just a pathetic slut serving tables!! Do you really think I can't destroy you?! That worthless slave won't protect you from me!!”

“...!”

You instantly went quiet.

Seeing this, Big Baddie grinned with triumph, blood staining his gold and white teeth.

...That’s right.

Back when you were merely a third party, you could easily dismiss the whole incident with Big Baddie as "unreasonable." As much as you hated to admit it, you didn’t see it as that big of a deal.

Why didn’t the staff just skirt around the problem, make some excuses, and feign ignorance? Or, even better yet, fight back. Then, call the authority if things escalated. Easy-peasy.

Well, the reason, as it turned out, was plain and simple.

It was the same reason you didn’t pick a fight with every professor who imposed outrageous assignments or feedbacks on you. Or why you hadn’t shoved your middle finger down Erin’s—your actual manager at the restaurant you actually worked at—prissy throat yet.

Because you’d be a dropout and without a job. Now, you wouldn’t say that you knew how every single staff in Primavera felt, but you certainly wouldn’t survive without your job, let alone switch colleges.

Facing against Billy Burnett, the infamous iron-fisted loan-shark, the stakes were even higher. One wrong move, and your entire life could be in jeopardy.

“Need I remind you what kind of authority they have? A single word from them could ruin the lives of many. I wouldn’t care if you’re the only one affected, but I also have something to protect, so stay in your lane.”

You recalled Marius’ words.

You wouldn’t blame him either—or anyone, for that matter. Everyone had their own circumstances. It was called “picking your battles.”

Which was why, only you could do this.

If it wasn’t you—who would?

You grinned.

Thanks for the reminder, Big Baddie.

Thus, as the waiter of the high-end nightclub Primavera, you shot back, “Watch your language! Aventurine is one of our most valued customers, and we do not tolerate any form of abuse or mistreatment toward him!”

“Wha—?!”

Big Baddie had a dumb look on his face. Perhaps this was the first time someone had called him out so boldly.

Also, you weren’t even lying!! Who else could singlehandedly quadruple the profit of a luxurious nightclub?! Calling him Primavera Jesus would be more fitting! Obviously, the staff would want to cling to him—especially after what you were about to do in their uniform, using their name!

While Big Baddie was still flabbergasted, you continued.

“—Given that this behavior has persisted, we are left with no choice but to ask you to leave and ban you from returning!”

After enduring his tyranny for so long, those were likely the words the staff had been dying to say, but couldn’t.

Then, your gaze briefly landed on your crisp, black uniform. Her uniform.

Of course, you wouldn’t pretend to understand how Judith felt either.

Still, when everyone else was too terrified or stunned to do anything, her manager took a punch in the face for her. If you were her, you’d be happy, knowing that most managers out there wouldn’t do even half as much—and at the same time, sad. But above all, angry.

So, you thought of saying this for her.

“—Also, that’s for punching my manager, asshole!!!”

Yes, only you, or specifically, Aschenputtel, could do this.

Aschenputtel, who was destined to lost her job either way. Aschenputtel, who had neither family nor friends, and would disappear past midnight.

Hence, you, Aschenputtel, decided—

—I’m taking you down with me, Big Baddie.

╚══════╝

🄾🄽🅆🄰🅁🄳 🅃🄾 【Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ ９】

I realized that at the rate I was doing it before, the update will only come once a month, or even 2 months in case anything happened. ૮(˶ㅠ︿ㅠ)ა I don't want to keep you guys hanging for that long. So I decided to post it as soon as a part is finished. Do tell me if any of you prefer that I just finish it as a whole before updating :D

[deathanniversary]

in all honesty, higuruma’s job was hard. fighting for the innocent, the wrongly accused and those people had done nothing wrong yet were locked away from no reason, was hard. well, at the end of the day — that’s his job and there’s not much he can do about it so he’ll just have to suck it up and deal with it. but hey, justice for all those people, at least that helps a little.

and obviously as his wife, you were patient with him, always ran him hot baths after a shit ton of stressful ass work was on his plate, cook him lavish and delicious dinners. anythin’ to make him de-stress and feel at peace after work — that’s the best type of dopamine one could ask for, honestly ( your tight cunt around his stiff hard cock is equivalent to that as well ). and of course he appreciated you for that. he always does ! each granted time. what more could he ask for in a wife? and plus, it was super super worth it coming home to your praise about his nose — not gonna lie. he’d been a little insecure about it until he met you, though.

but lately at work, he’s kindaa been slacking… just a tiny bit. always thinking about you ( lustfully ) at work, the pure thought of you pops up randomly in his head every single second of the day — no matter what the occasion or situation may be. you’re on his mind 25 / 8 .

he might be a hot n tired lawyer, but fuck you make him act up crazy. how the hell can he go up to the stand with a boner ? a painful boner. i mean, yeah, no one can see it, but still ! that’s directly embarrassing… like… what the hell is the judge gonna think ? “is mr.hiromi hard over a divorce case..?” weird shit.

and as soon as he finished the trial ( of course he did win ), he left and went straight home to you. it kinda hit him like a slap in the face: your guy’s sex life wasnt sexing… you know ? he’s been busy with a shit ton of work, so it makes sense. but he’s so desperate for you right now, the tension is almost palpable .

as soon as he enters the house, shoes kicked off, briefcase set down, stormed upstairs immediately. “you-“ he’s taken aback by your finger booping his nose and immediate praise of his hard work nd nose, too. “yes.. thank you,” he hugs you, his boner rubbing against your clothed cunt. He feels so lovesick int his moment, kinda dizzy ‘nd drunk without the booze or whatever.. that high sensation of euphoria and dopamine rushing through his body like a crack fein. why do you make him feel like this? what kinda effect, spell — fucking curse do you put on him to make him feel this way? but in other words, he’s gonna make you deal with the consequences anyways because of that. >:(

“‘m gonna go reall slow, princess.” higuruma’s hands stayed put onto your hips, completely ignoring the fact that you were a blabbering nd drooling flushed-face mess in his hands. his tongue thrusted in and out of your soaking cunt excruciatingly slow and teasing. “‘m not gonna die, don’t be shy,” his nose accidentally nuzzles into your pussy, and the most vocal moan comes out of your mouth. oops.

your hands were scratching at his chest while you choked the man with your pussy. it fucking hit him right then ‘n there; he wanted to fucking live in your pussy. breathe her, eat her— all that shit. pussy so good, it could fucking kill someone. “yeahh, needy f’me, aint’cha?” he moaned into your pretty pink folds, eyes damn near rolling into the back of his skull. “ssshitt, b-baby…” he spits into your cum ‘n saliva filled cunt and nuzzles his nose into the warmth of your womb. you just really love his nose that much, huh?

[skarkkk]

First, Brad Torrence.

He's a more complex character than he seems. The news of him being a father and having distanced himself from his son to try to pursue this pilot thing is in a way like Eddie. Who ran away to the army. The scene of the guy wanting to kill himself and him having that conversation and in the end actually managing to save him, compared to the conversation he had with Eddie also shows that he's more sensitive about his own importance than he acts with that superiority (like in that scene with the attendant).

Second, Eddie Diaz.

(I won't go into as much detail as I want because I plan on making another post, it's too much trauma for just one).

Starting with his relationship with Chris and how it's going downhill, his distance and how he probably doesn't want to become like his own parents, leaving his son to raise himself alone, hating his father (which is fair, but come home, honey). I read about Ryan's possible exit and although this thing about him moving to Texas to create the perfect exit doesn't make sense either. Since the second season he has been a main character, and him leaving the series would mean sending him to Texas and ignoring anything involving what will happen there in his relationship with his parents and also with Chris. I would love to see him go to El Paso and return with his son, to their house, to their Buck. I would love him going to El Paso and being recognized as "Hotshot's #1 hot nurse" and it also serving as an opening for some guy (maybe a blue-eyed blond) to flirt with him and Eddie having an Oh.

Third, let's talk about the couch teory and kitchen.

The look on Buck's face when he sat down on the couch and truly realized what was about to happen, it wasn't him helping his best friend pick out a new house, it was him helping his partner pick out a new house in another state. And that he would never go back to that couch - his safe place - or to that house after Eddie leaves and that he will never truly see his best friend again after this, nor his son (because that's what Chris is). We have, for the first time, two scenes of them together on that couch, technically one, but considering. Post-breakup Buck + finding happiness again Eddie, Post-breakup relapse Buck + going after happiness (son) Eddie. Buck, abandonment issues in bold capital letters and underlined on his forehead, picking out a house where his best friend is going to try to reconnect with the son they both lost. Do you think he blames Eddie for a moment? I lost what I considered a son and now I'm going to lose you because of it. He went and you're going to follow and they're going to leave me here. About the kitchen, it's basically how important it is. We talked about how Buck feels comfortable showing up at his house out of nowhere, walking in and going straight to the kitchen and the cabinets. We talked about "your own privacy, but not with me", and how the signs are there.

"Do you wanna go for the title?"

"It's Eddie's house, I'm not really a guest"

"Do you remember anything about the shooting?"

"Eddie, who's Kim?"

"Aren't these homes out of your budget in LA?".

Their kiss itself has to be there, or on the couch.

Fourth, if Buddie doesn't happen, it will either be because the producers are afraid or because the characters are afraid.

Something along the lines of "I can't be his first because then I won't be his last." Tommy left and Eddie leaves for completely different reasons, but this is Buck. And "why do I feel worse about you leaving than I do about my boyfriend?" and we know it will be like that. He liked Tommy, of course, and they were a couple, but 6 months of dating and dating is nothing compared to the years of mutual trust and family development that Eddie and Buck have had, it's a slow burn in which they built this (non)platonic partnership of theirs, in which they both feel so comfortable in each other's homes. And I don't doubt for a second that it's entirely possible for a scene like that to happen, if the show goes down a path for Buddie, in true 911 style that will either be super emotional and traumatic or comedic and cute. If you go down the path where both have feelings but don't become a couple because of fear, it would be for that reason for Buck + "I can't lose my best friend" and for Eddie the baggage of Catholic guilt he has plus the repressed homosexuality boiling in Texas

Fifth, Graham Keye and Athena Grant.

I thought their scenes were so cute. Graham seemed like a bit of a pain in the ass with the little cars, on the one hand it's okay to demand things be done the right way, on the other hand people just want to go home after a purchase. Leaving aside the plot of the culprit being Ira (or whatever his real name is), we see the difference between Athena's treatment of Sparks and him. Her calling him a baby in the hospital scene cured mommy issues all over the world, because his family doesn't even know he's in the hospital and almost died, because she was honest about him not being able to be a cop and that she presented him with an opportunity, something that probably (due to the person he is, and the context of the story presented) shouldn't have happened before. The culprit not being that big guy in plaid was pretty satisfying because it would be so obvious and boring if it were, so they go there and put the old man who Graham was trying to kind of help in his own way

Sixth, 118 and Hotshot's.

Chimney as a doctor was hot as hell, but thinking about it now, what would Maddie's reaction be? Considering that her abusive ex-husband was a doctor, but Chim is the cutest and perfect man for her. Eddie and Buck as nurses and their uniforms match perfectly, Buck's uniform showing off his muscles, Eddie clumsy on the set, Henrietta being a queen as always, and Brad going by what she said. Because I love that they did this "this wouldn't happen in real life" thing and I keep thinking, the things you guys do probably wouldn't happen in real life either. The scene at the beginning, them watching the show and giving their opinions and how Eddie automatically brought Buck into it with the F word and Buck's super expressive reaction to it, plus Hen and Chim being passive

"I liked the song"

"It's a good show"

(I don't remember Chim's line )

Seventh, Buddie again.

How Buck realized so quickly that Eddie was hiding the tablet and going on an ordeal that seems so flirtatious, and how Eddie can't lie to him. Even if 911 doesn't bring it up that often, Eddie was trained in the army, he enlisted twice and came back alive both times. From what I know about the US military (basically just from the series), he should be able to lie even under torture and yet he opens his mouth whenever Buck asks him to.

Eighth, the next episode.

According to the plot, we have a serial killer who will go after Maddie. And she is pregnant, and this will probably generate more trauma depending on whether she knew the person because "she could have hurt our child and it would be my fault", and she probably does. You can see in a scene from the preview that the person who took Maddie is a woman, who knows where she lives and who managed to get into her house. A woman with medium-long brown hair. We will know if she shows up earlier and why in the next episode, but still. Is it because of Chim? Because of the son? A random choice? I want to see the reaction, especially from her husband and her brother. Mainly from the brother actually, because Chim is her husband and they have a daughter but he was in the hospital recovering the first time this happened (not disregarding what he felt during Maddie's kidnapping by Doug, but he had been stabbed and probably slept most of it). Buck had to deal with going after her and worrying about Chim, and Doug, and everything that happened. And now it's happening again and it's maybe worse, because it's a serial killer, someone who doesn't just want Maddie for himself but wants murder and has experience in that. And I want a comfort scene with Buck and Chim, them bonding even more and a recreation of the hospital scene when Eddie comes to talk to Buck after Athena puts him in "hospital jail" for trying to unlock Chim's phone. I want Maddie to be okay, as well as the baby, and I want to see how they're going to deal with Jee.

[v--143]

OH boy do I have a story for you guys hhehehehehehe

Boyfriend slept over in my dorm again and gaahhhhh okay I think he fully knows I love tickles but not in THAT way like I think he just thinks I think they’re fun, which that is the case.. but he doesn’t know I’m literally obsessed with it 💀💀 ANYWAYS

He’s started to do this thing where he’ll sing a song, either a Halloween one or a Christmas one, whenever he’s about to start tickling me. So I’m like NOOOOOO and he just keeps singing and starts doing the claw hands AAHHHHH

And he found out last night that my ribs like riiiight under my boobs (? if that makes sense LMAO) are SO sensitive, like insanely ticklish. But like, a good very ticklish… like I can take it and it won’t be toooooo too much for me. So, I had a bralette and an opened zip-up jacket on, and when he found this out, he KILLED MEEEEEEEEEEESBJENDJSKSN

He was laid down on the left and me on the right (the beds are lofted up but there’s a bar to keep you from falling so I was fine to squirm and thrash). He took his right arm and grabbed both my wrists in it (he is strong as hell), and then he WRAPPED his LEGS around MINE. SO at this point my entire torso (my zip up jacket was opened, so just wearing my bralette) was COMPLETELY exposed. Obviously not my chest but all else. So I was already giggling a ton like an idiot because I was nervous and he kept repeating “say just 5 more seconds and then I’ll stop. Or 10 more. Or, yknow, if you don’t want me to stop, don’t say anything.” And then any time that I’d try to say anything, he’d tickle me HARDER and FASTER hshdejenenjend

Genuinely couldn’t move my arms or legs at ALL and he kept intertwining from vibrating and wiggling his fingers between my upper ribcage to the center of my stomach to my sides to my lower ribs to all over my chest to my neck like oh my GOD I was so done for. But I mean hey I was having the damn time of my life I’m not complaining🙂‍↕️

So I was really just laughing my entire being out. Like, I think I laughed for maybe 2-3 minutes straight, which is a lot if you really think about it! Like mf wouldn’t stop! (In his defense I never once said stop between my laughs and screams, nor did I made it known in any way that I wanted him to stop… so… YIPPEE)

His TEASES too my God his teasinggggg “you can tell me to stop, yknow” “you love this don’t you?” “you’re so ticklish oh my God” “you’re so loud!!!”

OH and when he said “you’re so loud!!” he then grabbed his hoodie that he took off and put it over my face saying “there. Chomp down on that, okay?” and then continued even HARDER as I tried to bite down on his hoodie and not be as loud (epic fail) 😭 He was smiling the entire time as all this went on too which was so cute to me like he looked like he was enjoying himself too. He called it my “torture time” which just made it all the more EEEEEEEEEE

But. Guys. This is the. Ahhhh moment for me.

Then after a while once my hair was all over my face and I was heaving like a madwoman, he was like “are you okay?” (He always asks that after he tickles me really hard or for a long amount of time💘) and I was like “uh-huh, yehehes” still giggling with a big ass smile on my face as I looked at him, and he goes, “…do you like it?”

I knew EXACTLY what he meant but my nervous ass goes “huhh?” acting like I’m too drowsy and out of it to answer the question 😭😭 and he STRAIGHT UP ASKS, “do you like being tickled??” AND I GO “w- whaatt?” still acting like I’m sleepy or some shit and then I just make some random noise GAAAHHH 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

The thing is he is the least judgmental person I know. He’s so open and vulnerable and would not give two shits if I said yes. In all honesty.. he probably would’ve giggled and said something along the lines of, “Awww, that’s what I thought. I wanted to make sure first though. Glad I know now, I will be using this against you” 🙈 I regret changing the topic after that bc I could’ve at least been like “I meannnn I don’t mind it, it’s a nice bonding thing and it makes me happy so” UGGHHH that would’ve been such a good response. But it’s definitely gonna happen again so I’ll say it if he asks again ☺️

Anyways. Yes. Yeah. Ah. Best moment ever. Best 3 minutes ever. I had so much fun. He’s so great. I luv him