#my art has never art-ed like this before

[forwhomthewordsflow]

Stars In My Eyes

(a part two to this fic!)

modern music teacher!eddie munson x art teacher fem!reader

18+ ONLY MDNI!!!

warnings: fluff, so fluffy, first dates, first kisses, some anxiety/stress, a little dash of coach!steve harrington, suggestiveness

author's note: i feel like this took me ages to write! so sorry for the wait...i do sort of love how this turned out :) writing a first kiss scene is hard!!!

please let me know what your thoughts are on this series!

word count: 7.7k

Eddie Munson couldn’t believe his luck.

Like, sure he’s gotten lucky a few times before.  There was that one time an officer let him off with a warning after he rolled through a stop sign, he’d played the “I’m a teacher during finals week” card and it had seemed to work out pretty well for him.  There were also a few times when a stranger in front of him at the Starbucks drive thru had paid for his morning coffee, only for him to turn around and see there was no one behind him to pay it forward to.  

And then, there was that time back during his final senior year where Stacy Cowell was going through a “rebel phase” and decided to give Eddie a string of random blowjobs over the course of a week and a half to make herself feel like she was living on “the wild side.”  She quickly transitioned out of that phase when Eddie had asked her out on a date, he figured they should probably make an effort to learn a little about each other if she was going to be deepthroating him in the back of his van every other day after school.  She turned him down with a disgusted sneer, leaving Eddie a little heartbroken by the fact that a girl could be so offended at the idea of a date with him.  

But none of that even mattered to Eddie anymore.  All of those situations touched by a bit of luck have been reduced down to mere coincidences now that he has you in his life.  Even though it was only one IKEA date trip that the two of you went on last weekend, Eddie couldn’t stop himself from imagining a long, happy future with you because of how fucking perfect it all went.

- 

You don’t think you’ve ever been so nervously giddy over anything in your entire life.  There had never really been any boys that you were crazy for when you were younger.  Sure, you’d been in love a couple times before, but nothing was ever…”wow.” 

 You’d never felt any real sparks, never met anyone truly special enough to change your life like all of the women you’d seen in movies or read about in books.  

But Eddie…he was very much wow.

After you’d worked out the details for your IKEA trip that afternoon in your classroom, you found it hard to stop blushing for the remainder of the week.  The both of you decided that you’d go on Saturday morning, and Eddie had insisted on picking you up and driving there together.  He bowed his head and lightly pressed his lips to your hand in a dramatic and silly fashion before leaving your classroom.  Your knees felt weak and a bright red blush bloomed on your face as Eddie stood back up to his full height to face you. 

“You know,” he started, still holding your hand, "you're really cute when you blush like that.”

A tiny squeak is all that comes out of your mouth when you open it to respond.  

You struggle to put together a coherent sentence and settle for the smile and girlish giggle that bubbled its way out of your chest.  

“I’ll see you later.”

Eddie started to walk backwards, keeping your hand in his grasp until he was too far away and then turning around to exit your classroom.  There wasn’t much else you could do except stare at the hand that had just been held by him, while holding your other over your mouth in shock.  

Eddie waited the appropriate five seconds after being out of your line of sight before erupting into a silent “fist-punching-head-banging-fuck yeah!” celebration in the hallway.  He couldn’t believe he kissed your hand.  The thought to kiss your hand had barely graced his mind before his body had made the decision to go through with it.  Eddie was terrified that his nerdy qualities would cause you to run for the hills, or that you’d think he was weird or stupid.

But instead, you’d blushed bright red and blessed his ears with a giggle, and all of Eddie’s worries and fears were banished from his mind at the sound of it.  

Eddie decided he was going to really enjoy taking every opportunity to make you blush.  

-

There were only two days until your IKEA trip with Eddie, and somehow you kept missing each other in the hallways at school.  On the rare occasion that Eddie had a spare moment, you were at some kind of art teacher workshop.  Whenever you could pull yourself away from decorating your classroom and lesson-planning, Eddie was leaving early for the day to go look at different types of Tubano drums for his classroom.  

There were a couple of staff meetings that everyone had to attend, but the two of you never ended up sitting next to each other.  Instead, you would indulge in a game of eye tag, making yourself feel like you were in high school all over again with a big fat crush.  

While you were really looking forward to your day out with Eddie, a tiny part of you was glad that you weren’t running into him constantly.  You found yourself overpouring your coffee in the morning because of the way the deep brown shade of the coffee matched the color of Eddie’s eyes.  You accidentally took a sip out of your paint water cup instead of your drinking cup because you were staring off at the lamps in your room, wondering which one had been Eddie’s favorite.  Two days was just what you needed to collect yourself enough to act like a normal human being before you saw Eddie again.  You weren’t even allowing yourself the time to think about being in a car with him for the hour that it took to get to IKEA.  All of the workshops, lesson plans and other preparation for the start of school kept you calm and collected.

Eddie, on the other hand, was reduced to a pile of chunky silver rings and nerves.  He couldn’t stop thinking about everything he had to get done before your trip…date?  Was it a date?  Did you say the word date when you asked him?  Is it even a date when the girl asks the guy-

Eddie’s frantic pacing is interrupted by a shark knock on his propped open classroom door.

“Yo, Munson.  How’s the…” Steve trailed off as he took in Eddie’s disheveled state.  “Dude.”

“I know, I know, man.” Eddie responds, plopping down in a chair that was meant for one of his students.  He puts his head in his hands, tugging on the roots to try and get a grip.

“What’s goin’ on, Ed?  I haven’t seen you this distraught since One Direction broke up.”  Steve sits on top of a desk next to Eddie, jabbing him softly in the shoulder after his lame attempt at getting a smile out of Eddie.  

Eddie chuckles and shakes his head at the stupid joke.  He looks up at Steve with a deep sigh, then stands up and grabs him by the shoulders.

“If I tell you, it stays between us.”  Eddie fixes Steve with a hard look and raised eyebrows, not any different from the look he gives his students when they’re getting up to no good.  “I’m so dead serious.”

Steve’s eyes widen at the sudden seriousness, making a cross over his chest with his finger.  “Yeah man, cross my heart and all that.”

Eddie lets go of Steve, slumping back into the chair with a huff.  

“How do you know that a date is a date, and not just a friend thing?”

Steve smiles cockily and leans forward, always interested in Eddie’s love life…or lack thereof.

“Well, I don’t know…I think I might have to hear a little more about this special lady in order for me to provide some of my good ol��� Harrington Love Advice.”  Steve wiggles his eyebrows at Eddie, throwing in a wink for the sake of being annoying.

Eddie rolls his eyes, he knew it was a mistake to bring up girls around this guy.  Steve was always giving Eddie pointers on how to get chicks the way he did, but Eddie was in no way similar to Steve when it came to relationships.  Steve never had nothing to do on the weekends, always with a new girl, sometimes even the single moms at school.  He’d meet them out at a bar, woo them, take them to dinner and then even sometimes back to his place.  Despite his fuck-boy tendencies, Eddie knows it’s never that meaningful for either party.  Steve’s been pining after one of the English teachers for years, and these flings are only serving as a way to satiate his intensely flirtatious side.  

As annoying as he may be, it would be nice to rant about all of his pent up loverboy feelings for you to Steve.  Eddie knows he’s just giving him a hard time, it’s one of the many love languages they share as best friends.

“I-it’s just…she’s so beautiful man, like…holy fuck.”  Eddie shakes his head in disbelief, looking off into the distance as he rambles on about you.  “I mean just…she looks like some kind of Elven princess-angel-goddess-fairy–”

“Dude, Ed.  None of that nerd shit please, say it to me in English.”

Eddie chuckles and shakes his head with a sigh.  

“Okay.  I really like her.  I haven’t felt this way in years, maybe ever.  We met officially yesterday and just…clicked.”

Steve smiles at Eddie as he talks about you, happy to see his friend so excited about someone.

“We made plans to go to IKEA this weekend, but I don’t know what to make of it?  Is it a date?  Should I bring her flowers?  What if I do bring her flowers and she gets weirded out because it was actually never a date at all?”

Steve holds his hands up like he’s trying to calm down an animal.  

“Woah there, buddy.  No need to get all freaked out about it.”  Steve can’t help but to laugh a little at the helpless look on his friend’s face.  “Let’s just start with the details, okay?  Who asked who?”

“She asked me.  I said I liked her lamps and then she said she got them at IKEA and then I said that I needed some for my room and then she said that we should go to IKEAandshopforsometogether-”

“Okay, okay man.  Take a deep breath.”  Steve motions for Eddie to inhale for a couple seconds.  

“Then let it all out.”  Eddie expels the breath from his lips in a hard huff, looking a little calmer.  “Alright.  So, she asked you?”

Eddie nods.

“That’s good, it means she’s interested!  Not a lot of women are making the first move these days, it means that she definitely wants a slice of Munson.”

Eddie rolls his eyes at Steve, but still waits for him to go on.

“Are you picking her up for the trip to IKEA?”

“Yeah, I offered to pick her up and drive us both there since it’s about an hour away.”

Steve scratches his five o’clock stubble.

“Hmm…okay.  Did she like…jump at the chance for you to drive her or was there some hesitation before she agreed?”

Eddie thinks back to that moment.  How the two of you were standing slightly too close for new friends, the way your eyes seemed to sparkle as you looked up at him, how he was surprised you couldn’t hear his heart beating out of his chest.  

He remembers offering to drive the both of you to the store, surprising himself by saying it way calmer than he was feeling.  Your face lit up a little, like you were shocked that he’d even offer to pick you up and drive you there.  You smiled and nodded your head sweetly before agreeing out loud.

Eddie feels himself smiling at the tiny memory.

“It wasn’t like she immediately answered…but she definitely was smiling when she agreed.  She didn’t seem nervous about it or anything, it was more like she was excited or something.”

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up as a smirk emerges on his face.

“So let me see if I’m getting this straight.  She asked you to go to IKEA, probably knowing it was a long drive, and then she happily agreed to let you pick her up and drive the two of you there?  For a whole two hours there and back?”

Eddie nods, anxiously awaiting Steve’s opinion on all of this.

“I mean, it’ll probably be a good four or five hours that you spend together driving and shopping.”

Steve fixes Eddie with a look that says ‘c’mon man, it’s obvious.’

Eddie’s had enough of his edging.  “Will you just get to the fucking point please for the love of god?”

Steve sighs and claps a hand on Eddie's shoulder. 

“Ed, it’s a date.”

Eddie barks out a triumphant laugh and Steve does the same.  The two men high five and Steve wraps a beefy arm around Eddie’s shoulder to pat him on the chest.  Eddie can’t help but to let out a big sigh of relief now that he can stop worrying about how to act on this trip date.

-

On Friday, you could’ve sworn you went slightly neurotic.  

Since Tuesday you’d been considering your day with Eddie as a date, but it suddenly hit you that maybe he didn’t feel the same way.  What if you’d been doing all this worrying and freaking out for no reason?  What if he ends up calling you ‘dude’ the entire day?  What if he has a girlfriend already, and he just agreed to take you to IKEA so that you wouldn’t get your feelings hurt?

You’d been running circles in your head trying to prepare yourself for any and all possible outcomes that Saturday could hold for you, but none of it seemed to be doing you any good.

So, you did what you always did whenever you found yourself flipping out over something new.

You made a to-do list. 

Pick out an outfit.  Dress! too fancy…jeans?  Dress, definitely dress. not too fancy though…

Drink wine 

Watch movie

Clean house…again

Drink more wine

Possibly reconsider outfit…

After all was said and done, you plopped down on your worn-in couch, sufficiently drunk with a clean house and an outfit neatly hung up outside of your closet.  You decide to pour your third and final glass of wine for the evening, and to surrender your anxiety to the gods of love.  You hope and pray that they like you enough to let you have this one. 

-

It was finally Saturday.  Eddie stands in front of his closet furiously, wondering why in the fuck he can’t find a single thing to wear for his date with you today.  He’s got enough clothes to fill his entire closet, dresser, and a $20 clothing rack he picked up at Target years ago.  Steve said to just go with what felt the most like ‘Eddie’, but he’s suddenly unable to remember what his style even looks like.  

He wants to punch himself in the nuts for not taking the time last night to plan this all out like a normal person.  

He ends up settling for a fitted white tee, a pair of trusty black jeans, and black boots.  On a FaceTime call with Steve (so he could approve Eddie’s choice), Steve mentioned that the outfit was casual, but still fairly nice, and that the white shirt showed off his tattoos and muscles.

“Chicks dig the muscles and white tee combo, man.  Trust.”

Eddie chuckles at his friend’s ‘frat boy’ lingo, but the comment makes him feel better about his appearance anyways.  Last year, Steve had managed to convince Eddie to start going to the gym with him after school during the week, and it pains him to admit that he sort of really likes it now.  He likes how much stronger he feels, he likes sweating out all of his frustrations, and most of all he likes the way he fills out his t-shirts now.

After hanging up the call with Steve, Eddie flexes a little in his mirror before leaving to go pick you up.  He decides to do a few last minute push ups and to moisturize the tattoos on his arms so that he looks extra good for you.

-

Perhaps being slightly neurotic about this date was a good idea.

Thanks to all of your meticulous planning, you managed to get completely ready with a half hour to spare.  You decided against sitting on your couch until Eddie arrived since the nervous butterflies in your stomach made you want to throw up, so you opted to wander around your house for the remainder of the time.

You pass by your mirror, doing a final check and making sure your outfit and makeup are up to par.  You’d decided on a simple white dress, with a denim button up thrown over it and your pair of black chelsea boots that had yet to let you down.  You smile at your reflection, happy that you’d managed to choose a comfy and cute outfit that felt like you.

There’d been too many dates before this one where you’d gone out and spent insane amounts of money on brand new outfits that you weren’t even sure you really liked, all in the name of impressing your date and hoping he likes you enough to ask you out on a second one.  When prepping for those dates, you spent hours upon hours running around like a mad woman.  Shaving, plucking, tweezing, waxing.  Making sure your hair curled just right and that your eyeliner was sexy, but not slutty.

You couldn’t figure out why Eddie felt so different to you.  Even though the nerves of a first date had really freaked you out the night before, this morning was fairly calm.  Sure, you took plenty of time in the shower and doing your hair and makeup, but it didn’t feel like you were trying to morph into a different version of yourself to please a man. 

It felt more like you were trying your best to look like your favorite version of yourself. 

You want Eddie to know who you are inside and outside of work, and you really hope that he likes what he finds. 

-

Eddie stays parked outside of your house for a minute or two to try and settle his nerves.  

You lived in a small, red brick house in a family neighborhood.  There were flowers planted in the beds under your windows, and your front door was painted a deep turquoise color.  Eddie sucks in a breath when he sees your figure moving around through the gauzy white curtains covering your windows.  

How can a hazy silhouette still be so beautiful?

Looking into his rearview mirror, Eddie takes a deep breath.

“You got this man.  Be cool.”

He turns his car off and makes his way to your front door, knocking three times and then taking a step back to wait for you.

It takes all of two seconds for your front door to swing open, revealing you on the other side.

Eddie immediately feels weak in the knees.  You looked so cute in your little boots, and he couldn’t help but to let his eyes trail up the smooth skin of your legs.  He gulped a bit at the short hem of your dress, and then realized he should probably say something.

“Hey you.”

“Hi,” You smile up at him bashfully as he looks you up and down.  You take the opportunity to look him over as well, and damn.  You already knew he was sexy, but his tight tee shirt and pulled back hair made you want to drag him into your house and do things to him…

You only notice that he’s been holding a hand behind his back when he brings it out in front of him, revealing a beautiful bouquet of flowers.  

“These are for you.  I didn’t know which was your favorite, so I just asked the lady to throw together a bunch of different kinds and to make it look pretty.”  Eddie holds the colorful bouquet out to you and smiles sheepishly.  

Your mouth hangs open as you reach out to take them, being so careful for no real reason.  You look up at Eddie with those big, sparkling eyes.

“Thank you so much, Eddie.  These are so incredibly beautiful,” he watches you looking down at the flowers, gently brushing your fingers against their petals.  “Let me run inside and find a vase for them real quick.  Come on in!”

You wave him in behind you and hurry inside.

Eddie tries to suppress the excitement he feels at being invited into your home.  He felt like he already got a good glimpse at who you are and how you express yourself when he was inside your classroom, but he’s now getting to see where you spend the majority of your time, where you live.  As he steps over the threshold and into your house, he readies his brain to take mental pictures of everything he sets his eyes on, just in case he never sees it again.

Instantly, he’s hit with a sense of “home.”  The inside of your house is the perfect temperature and it smells so good and womanly, like your perfume and also like you’ve been baking something but somehow also like flowers…Eddie loves it already.

You scurry off into the kitchen, trying not to think about the fact that Eddie Munson is looking around your house right now.

Where in the hell have all of your vases run off to?

Eddie walks around cooly with his hands clasped behind his back, taking in everything about your space.  Much like your classroom, Eddie is able to spot at least four different sized lamps and light fixtures placed around your entryway and living room.  There were warm white Christmas lights hung up along the ceiling, multiple green-leaved plants in different corners, and Eddie even thinks he spotted a black cat sprinting under your soft looking white sectional.

Overall, he’d give your interior design skills an 11/10. 

He’s just starting to miss you a little when you come out from your kitchen holding your flowers in a sparkly glass vase.  

It’s an odd feeling, seeing Eddie in your house.  His ‘edgier’ look seems like it wouldn’t fit with your overall aesthetic, but to your surprise he looks like he belongs here.  You walk up to him almost in a daze, admiring the silver hoop earrings he’s wearing, the smile on his lips, and the way some of his hair has made its way out of his low bun to frame his face.  

The two of you stand there for a moment looking at each other, with you holding your flowers in between your bodies.  You engage in a staring match for almost a second too long before you break the silence.

“No one’s ever gotten me flowers before,” you sheepishly admit, looking down at them instead of at him.  Eddie grins at the blush that blooms onto your cheeks after your prolonged eye contact.

Eddie scoffs before he can stop himself.

“Seriously?  That’s a damn shame, sweetheart.”

You look up at him again and try not to faint at how easily the word fell from his perfect lips.  Unable to take another second of his eyes on yours, you retreat into your living room to find the perfect place for your new flowers.  You decide to put them on your coffee table, then turn around to find that Eddie had followed you in.  

He offers his arm out to you, “Shall we?”

This time, you can’t fight the smile.

You take his arm and swipe your purse from the coat hanger next to your front door on your way out.

-

Eddie was the perfect gentleman for the entire duration of the car ride to IKEA.  He had opened the car door for you, he let you pick the music, and he definitely did not sneak a glimpse at your bare, voluminous thighs when your dress shifted as you sat down.  The sweet smell of your perfume spread throughout the interior of his truck, he hopes that smell never fades away.

He couldn’t help glancing over at you every other minute, looking so beautiful in his passenger seat while you bobbed your head to whatever song you had queued up on his phone. 

“Would it be a total invasion of privacy if I played your On Repeat playlist?  I’m dying to know what the music teacher’s favorite music is right now.”  Eddie turned to see that you were smiling pleadingly at him, and how could he say no to that face?

“I suppose,” Eddie sighs dramatically.  “But, you are not allowed to judge me for whatever pops up.”  He playfully points a finger at you while keeping his eyes on the road.  You giggle girlishly.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

You hit ‘shuffle’ on Eddie’s playlist and aren’t surprised when the first song that plays through the speakers is ‘The Unforgiven ll’ by Metallica.  You already knew Eddie was a fan of the band thanks to the music he always has playing a tad too loudly whenever you pass by his classroom.

“Oh, I know this song!”

Eddie’s face whips towards you sporting a shocked ‘you’ve gotta be kidding me’ expression.  He was definitely expecting you to be the ‘indie music’ type.  Your eyebrows furrow adorably angrily at the look on his face.  

“What?  A girl can’t like Metallica?” You fix him with a look that tells Eddie he should think twice about his response.

“W-well…I just didn’t expect you to be into them…that’s all.”  You roll your eyes playfully at him and cross your arms.  “But!  I’m very pleasantly surprised that you are!  Girls rule, alright?  Men like…totally suck and stuff.”

You chuckle at his frantic attempt at avoiding a lecture on gender inequality and feminism while settling back into your seat.  And because you actually do know and love this song, you start mouthing the words, which eventually evolves into singing them under your breath.

When Eddie thought he spotted you mouthing the words out of the corner of his eye, he was sure that his eyes were playing tricks on him.  But just barely hearing you singing the words to his favorite Metallica song just further confirmed a fact that he already knew.

Eddie Munson was totally going to fall in love with you.

The rest of the car ride consisted of sharing music, talking about work and life, childhood memories, and other random topics.  Eddie discovered that you love thunderstorms, your cat’s name is Pascal (after the chameleon from Tangled), and that you moved here at the beginning of summer from Chicago.

Eddie swears there’s never been a conversation in history that flowed as well as yours and his.  He felt like he’s known you for years, and he hopes you’re feeling the same way.

You totally are.

-

Once the two of you made it to IKEA and inside the giant store, Eddie quickly realized that he never really put any thought into what he actually wanted to buy for his classroom.  You swiftly came to his rescue and pulled out your phone to open up Pinterest.

Together, you found a couple pictures that matched the general vibe of Eddie’s classroom.  He grabbed a map of the store and a cart, and set off into the maze of furniture.  

You were back to being shy again, now that you were out in the wild with Eddie.  He found that making jokes about all of the funny names got you giggling, and so he didn’t miss an opportunity.

He made you laugh the hardest next to the Koppang drawers.

You bumped your shoulder into his around the Baggebo bookcases.

His hand brushed yours next to a Tornviken kitchen island. 

And Eddie finally worked up the courage to hold your hand next to a Klippan loveseat.

You gasped a little when you felt his warm hand slide into yours, interlocking your fingers together.  A red hot blush worked its way up your neck as you snuck a glance over at him, only to find that he was already looking at you with a smirk.  He knows exactly what this hand holding is doing to you.

He chuckles smugly as the two of you arrive at the lights section of the store.  As he pushes the cart through the aisles, you’re enamored by the twinkling lights that are draped overhead.  You’re lucky he’s holding your hand, or else you probably would’ve fallen flat on your face.  Eddie can’t help but to stare at you as you stare up at all the different light fixtures.  The different colors and hues of light shine beautifully onto your face, and the soft smile on your lips makes Eddie wish he could just grab you and kiss you right here in the aisle.  But, he figures that would cause you to explode after your reaction to his hand-holding.

He watches as you look further down the aisle at the lamps that are on display there, your face lighting up in recognition.

“Oh!  That’s one that I’ve got in my room!”  You point at an orange, donut shaped light called a Varmblixt.  Eddie recognizes it, you do indeed have one hanging on the wall behind your desk.

“I must have it,” Eddie says with a flourish ,”Never have I seen a more extraordinary donut lamp.”

You giggle and go to grab one to place in the cart, but the box proves to be way heavier than you remember.  Eddie notices as soon as you inhale to exert more effort, and he steps in immediately. 

 No fair maiden such as you should be forced to exert any effort whatsoever in his presence.

“I’ve got it, sweetheart.”

You try not to let the name affect you but once again, you fail.  You’re left blushing and biting your lip, speechless.  You stare unashamed at Eddie as he picks up the heavy box and goes to place it in the cart with ease.  The overhead lights were really doing him favors, every ridge and contour of his body was lit to perfection.  You could see the delicious bulge of his biceps, the ripple of his forearm muscles, and the outline of his chest in his shirt….why is your mouth watering?

Eddie easily places the box in the cart, turning to face you again.  He finds you blushing up at him with wide eyes, and is unable to contain the smug smirk on his face.  The sudden lack of distance between the two of you did not go unnoticed by him, he hoped you couldn’t hear his heart pounding in his chest.

The ‘normal you’ would’ve noticed that you were obviously in Eddie’s personal bubble, and you would’ve taken a step back like the respectable adult that you are.  But the ‘normal you’ was long gone in Eddie’s presence.  This version of you was not unlike the version that existed when you were an awkward teenager who was on the brink of passing out anytime a boy even breathed in your direction. 

While you were busy ogling Eddie’s physique, you’d failed to notice the close proximity between the two of you, which led you to your current situation.  

You and him were so close together, you could feel the warm puffs of air from between his parted lips gently hitting your face.  His gaze trailed down from your eyes to your lips, but you wouldn’t have noticed anyways because you were one step ahead of him.

His lips looked so pillowy and soft, you wondered how they’d feel pressed against yours.  Would he kiss you slowly, gently holding your face in his big hands and brushing his thumbs along the apples of your cheeks?  Or would he be rougher than that, grabbing you by the waist and tugging you into him, kissing you with fire and passion?

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow as he watches you suck your bottom lip into your mouth to bite it.  You’re so goddamn beautiful, and you looked like an angel in this aisle of lights.  A lamp from behind you lights up the silhouette of your hair like a halo, and he can see the lights above his head reflected in your eyes like stars.  

Eddie knows he shouldn’t kiss you right now, not in the middle of IKEA where he can hear kids whining to their parents and couples arguing over which shade of beige would match their living room better.  He knows this, but he can’t stop himself from reaching his hand up to gently grasp your jaw.  His thumb slides from your chin to your bottom lip, tugging it free from your teeth.

His hand snakes down to the side of your neck, and you can feel the slight tremor in his hand.  You’re glad that the situation is affecting him too, because you are freaking out.  

Is he going to kiss you right now?  

In IKEA?

On your first date? 

Is this even a date?  

Do you even want him to kiss you?  Idiot, of course you want him to.

Eddie’s eyebrows lift slightly, almost questioning you.  Asking you, ‘Do you want this? Is this okay?’

You answer him with a soft smile, and you feel his hand move behind your neck to pull you in.

It is at this moment that a baby starts to wail one aisle over, effectively ruining any sort of moment you and Eddie had been sharing.

He lets out a frustrated huff, and touches his forehead to yours with closed eyes.  

“Of course,” he groans.

You’re secretly giddy at the fact that he so obviously wanted to kiss you badly.  You bring your hand up to his arm that’s still resting on your neck to give it a reassuring squeeze, and in a surprising burst of confidence, you rise up on your toes to peck him on the cheek.

Eddie’s eyes shoot open at the feeling of your soft lips on his cheek.  He pulls back to stare down at you as his face turns red.

You giggle at him, then turn around to walk down the aisle.

“C’mon, I think I saw another one of my lamps down this way!”

Eddie snaps himself out of his daze with a shake of his head, he’s sure that he’s got hearts in his eyes as he watches you walk away from him.  Grabbing the cart with one hand, he holds his other gently to his cheek, touching the spot that’s still warm from your lips.

-

Eddie ends up purchasing five lamps from IKEA after an hour and a half of wandering through the aisles with you.  

He can’t help but to act like the loverboy he is when he’s looking at furniture with you.  He fantasizes about a life with you, imagining that the two of you are actually here to pick out items to furnish your shared house.  

He wonders which kind of wood floors you’d pick out and which backsplash you’d want in the kitchen.  You’d probably want to decorate with colorful rugs and throw pillows, and Eddie wouldn’t complain.  Not as long as you’re happy.   He’d live in a pink house decorated with bows and lace trim as long as he was living in it with you.  

Maybe he’s getting ahead of himself, it’s only your first date together right?

If only he knew you were having similar thoughts as you strolled up and down the aisles, hand in hand.  You thought about what kind of decorating he did in his house, you figured it was styled in some way considering the amount of effort he puts into making his classroom look as cool as it does.  Does he have shelves full of records or different posters framed and hung up on his wall?  Which side of the bed does he sleep on?  You hope he likes plants, there’s no way you could part with your beloved greenery if the two of you were to live together.

You’re quick to silence the random thoughts buzzing around in your head, it’s silly to think about these things on your very first date…you don’t even know his middle name yet!

You and Eddie both seem to snap out of your stupors at the same time, sighing simultaneously.  You both turn to look at each other and then begin to laugh, unsure on whether or not the ‘jinx’ rules apply in a sighing situation.  

-

Eddie pays for the lights, and soon enough you’re both back in his truck.  

It dawns on you that your date is almost over, but you’re quickly redirected when you hear the starting notes to the next song that starts playing when Eddie’s phone connects to his radio.

Is that…Taylor Swift?

You turn to him slowly, confused at why a Taylor Swift song is on his ‘On Repeat’ Spotify playlist.

Eddie’s already staring at you mortified.  He holds a hand up, pausing any words that might’ve come out of your mouth.

“Before you say anything,” he begins ,”I really admire her lyricism.  Girl’s a wizard with words.”

The two of you sit in a charged silence for a moment before you can’t hold in your reaction any longer.  A laugh breaks free from your chest, and Eddie can’t  help but to laugh along with you.

You’re wiping tears from your eyes as your laughter dies down, and Eddie just grins at you.

“I can’t believe it.  The rock and roll music teacher listens to enough Taylor Swift for it to end up on his ‘On Repeat’ playlist.”  You shake your head at him with a wide smile on your face that Eddie wants to take a picture of and frame.  

“Yeah, yeah…laugh it up.  As a music teacher, it’s my duty to appreciate all types of music.”

You nod along to his explanation, “Yes, of course.  How else are you supposed to connect with the teenage girls these days?”

“Right! Yes!”  Eddie exclaims.  “I do this lesson on lyrics and Taylor’s music is a great example of what storytelling in music can look like.  I respect her, hard.”

You stifle another laugh at his emotional Taylor Swift themed outburst.

“This stays between you and I alright?” Eddie points a finger at you playfully.  “If Harrington gets word of this I’ll never live it down.”

“Of course, my lips are sealed.”  You mime zipping your lips shut and throwing away the key.

Eddie settles back into his seat with a huff, boyishly smiling over at you.

“I have a very important question for you Eddie.”

He leans in, intrigued by your seriousness. 

“Which era are you in right now?”

Eddie scoffs, throwing his head back with a groan.  This sends you into another laughing fit, Eddie can’t help but to join in again.  He’s coming to find out that your joy is such an infectious thing.

“Hmm let’s see…,” he muses.  He turns to look at you with one hand on the wheel and a smirk on his face as he puts his keys in the ignition.  

“Right now…I’d have to go with ‘Lover,’” he says with a wink.

Your laughter is cut off abruptly as you gasp and bite your lip, attempting to subdue the cheesy grin that’s surely made its way onto your face by now.  

You stare unashamed as Eddie puts his right hand over the back of your seat to turn around and look through the rear window as he reverses the car out of its parking spot.  You can smell the cologne he must’ve sprayed on this morning, which immediately awakens the butterflies in your stomach.

As soon as Eddie is set on the route back to your house, he holds out his hand expectantly over his center console.  You look at it, then at him, then back at his hand before shyly placing your hand in his.  He’s quick to lace his fingers through yours, holding on tight and running his thumb back and forth.

You’re both thinking that you could get used to this.

-

Eddie (reluctantly) only lets go of your hand in order to rush around the front of his truck to open your car door for you after he’s pulled into your driveway.  He’s quiet as he walks you to your front door, wondering which way is the best way to ask you out on another date.  

You stop when you reach your door, looking down at your hand in his.  The silence begins to feel just a tad awkward as you both search for something to fill it.

“Thank you,” you start quietly ,”for today.  I had a wonderful time.”

Eddie lets out a relieved breath and grins widely down at you.

“I did too,” he begins, readying himself for his next question.  “Would you…I mean–would you like to…uh…shit, would you want to maybe do it again sometime?”

You know what he means, but it’s still so tempting to tease him when he’s blushing like this.

“Would I want to go to IKEA with you again?”

“N-no!  I mean, if you wanted to we could I guess…b-but I was thinking something more along the lines of dinner?”

You find it adorable how nervous he is to ask you out on a second date, as if you wouldn’t agree to go out to dinner with him tonight.

“I’d love that.”

Eddie’s face lights up with a triumphant smile as he lets out the anxious breath he’d been holding in.  

“Good, that’s really good.”  The way you’re smiling up at him right now is causing him to lose his train of thought.  “Um…how’s tomorrow night?  Around 7?”

“Tomorrow night is perfect.”

“Awesome.  Great, yeah I’ll just…I’ll pick you up, okay?”

You’re beaming as you nod your head, much too ecstatic at the idea of going out with Eddie again to form a coherent sentence.

Eddie finds himself smiling and nodding with you, you’re just too adorable. 

“Hey could I uh…c-could I get your number?” Eddie stammers the question out like he’s a prepubescent teenager, mentally face palming the whole time.

He’s relieved when you chuckle and hold your hand out for him to place his phone in.  He fumbles around trying to give you his phone as quickly as possible, he can’t believe how nervous he feels right now. 

He finally somehow manages to pass over his phone with a new contact page pulled up and ready for you.  You type in your number and name, making sure to add the artist’s palette emoji afterwards.  Eddie laughs through his nose when he sees it, then pockets his phone again.  

There’s a weird tension in the air that can only be brought upon by two people who so obviously want to kiss each other, but are too nervous to make the first move.  Eddie wracks his brain for a way to ask you if it’d be okay for him to kiss you without looking like a total idiot.  It’s really unfortunate that the way you bite your lip causes his mind to completely shut off and switch to autopilot.  

“I really wanna kiss you right now,” he blurts out.

You look up at him, shocked at his bluntness.  Eddie’s even more shocked than you are.

“Y-you probably should then,” you bashfully admit.

Eddie can’t believe that worked.

He steps towards you and softly places one hand on your cheek, the other going to gently grasp the side of your neck similarly to the way he had in IKEA during your almost-kiss.

Your eyes flutter closed as you feel his lips graze yours for the first time.  The feeling is electrifying, and you can’t help but to venture forward for more.  

Your lips were just as soft, if not softer, than Eddie imagined. 

You plunge forward to press your lips against his, instantly deepening the kiss.  Eddie found himself instantly addicted to the feel of your lips and the way you sigh into the kiss.  It’s a shy kiss at first, where the two of you slowly begin to figure out your shared rhythm.  But it wasn’t long before you sank into a synchronized dance, mirroring each other’s movements in a way that crafted the most perfect, earth shattering first kiss.  

You let Eddie Munson kiss you at your front door in a way that you had longed to be kissed for your entire life.  This was how the women you saw in movies or read about in books were kissed.  You’d read about magic and sparks flying, and you think you’re finally starting to believe in all of it.  

Eddie moves his hand from your cheek to your waist, gripping it and pulling you closer to him.  The gasp you let out gave him the sweet opportunity to run his tongue against your bottom lip, asking, pleading for an entrance which you of course granted.  You tasted like autumn and felt like home, he decided he could kiss you for hours on end.

You both stood there for a good five minutes at your front door, making out like giddy teenagers and feeling like them too.  Eddie finally pulls away from your lips, pleased to find you subtly chasing his mouth with your own.  You open your eyes and come out of your kiss-induced haze to find him smiling adoringly down at you with both hands now circling your waist.  

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss you once more. 

“Actually, I’m gonna call you tonight.”  He kisses you again.  “Is that okay?”  Another peck.

You're giggling as he places a final kiss on your forehead, “Yes, please.”

“Good.”

Eddie steps back, grabbing your hand to kiss it like he did on Tuesday.  He pulls you back in with that same hand to plant one last kiss on your lips, then jogs back to his truck.  He waves and quickly honks his horn twice as he pulls away.  

You’re left standing at your front door, watching his truck disappear down your street and reliving every moment of your first kiss with Eddie Munson.

When you finally make your way inside, you make sure to smell your brand new beautiful flowers before scurrying off to your bedroom to pick out an outfit for your second date with Eddie tomorrow night.  

TAGLIST:

@josephquinnsfreckles @the-fairy-anon @anukulee @littlebebebunny @meetmeatyourworst @lalalala-melmosworld @someantics @lokis-army-77 @loserboysandlithium @strangerstilinski @mystra-midnight @lesservillain @queenimmadolla @luveline @munson-blurbs @fairyysoup @urhoneycombwitch @oneforthemunny @rebelfell @taintedcigs @wroteclassicaly @eiightysixbaby @bettyfrommars @loveshotzz @lovebugism @carolmunson @rustedhearts @lonelysatellites

[luvvyouforever]

headcanons : med student!abby anderson x liberal arts student!reader ᥫ᭡

content: wlw relationship. modern college au. ramblings of fluff, maybe a touch of angst but nothing heavy. enjoy <3

a/n: my authority for writing this you ask? i'm an english major who gets asked regularly what i am going to do with my degree! also this is my first time writing about abby i just had to get this idea out of my head and on to the screen.

-abby decided at a young age to follow in her father's footsteps and become a doctor as well. she committed herself to studying science and math as a kid and occasionally disregarded her other studies like music, art, and english. she did enough to keep a 4.0 GPA but her heart was in science tournaments, young medical professional groups, and ap bio.

-she got into one of the best schools in the states for medicine and was a stellar student in organic chemistry, anatomy, and neurology. she knew she was going to do great on her MCAT, but unfortunately, she wasn't doing so great in some of her gen ed classes and it was impacting her gpa.

-that was how she found herself in a tutoring center in one of the older buildings on campus that was shockingly different from the science buildings she spent all of her time in. she had an appointment with you, but was so nervous to go and admit that she was having trouble in something as simple as art history or literature or communication.

-when she sat down to have her appointment with you, you immediately calmed her nerves and assured her that there was nothing wrong with needing some help in classes she wasn't comfortable in. you helped her ace her quiz and then she just kept coming in to see you. over and over. until she eventually passed the class with an A and no longer needed your assistance.

-and then, as luck would have it, abby got her own job as a tutor for science courses and who happened to walk in but you! the tutor who helped her pass her own difficult course.

-it was history from there.

-despite abby's commitment to her education, she was always able to carve time out of her schedule to be with you. she loves studying with you and filling up a room in the library with your stuff to prepare for exams together. she takes a whiteboard and writes all of her notes on it while you're rereading historical texts or revising your final paper about a painting abby doesn't really quite understand.

-she never makes you feel less than for not studying something "more difficult" as people have before. she loves hearing about your passions for history or writing stories or creating art. she'll come with you to art galleries and try to input her own thoughts from time to time about what she thinks certain pieces mean.

-she understands that graduate school applications are just as important to you as medical school applications are for her. you'll do practice interviews with each other and try on outfits for each other.

-abby will not stand for someone making fun of you for your choice of studies. you two once went to a family gathering on abby's side and when some of her family members began interrogating you on how you're going to get a job and even imply that you'll be living off of abby for your whole life, she gets all up in their face and comforts you later! you will not be sending birthday wishes to those family members anymore and she can guarantee that.

-if you guys get accepted in to schools that are long-distance from each other, you'll absolutely make it work. abby is so methodical that she'll never forget to text you and plans out times that either of you can visit.

-if you ever dedicate a piece that you've created in school to her, she'll positively swoon. like if you wrote a poem about her, she would print it out and pin it up on the fridge. if you painted her, she would hang it up on the wall. and she's the best model for those things too

-i imagine that dinners with your colleagues or friends are very random. abby has but a few friends in her residency and they're each as professional as her. you, however, come with a group of lively people who are discussing philosophical ideas or debating about a piece of art history and how its influenced modern culture. it would be an interesting combination to say the least.

-abby would just be so interested in anything you have to do and would never be critical of your choices. she sees the passion you have for things that lie far outside her field and appreciates it. your future apartment that you build years after meeting when you are each established in your dream careers is a mesh of medical textbooks and flashcards and models but also messy journals and thrifted antiques and poems written on sticky notes for her to find.

[pinkberrytea]

He is the king, you are his crown; he is the tree, you are its blooms.

Requiem—A ceremony for the dead. The Vampire Ascendant once made her his bride; now he weds her before the gods. Eternal rest grant unto them, and let perpetual light shine upon them. Amen.

The pleasure of your company is requested at the marriage of Lord Astarion Ancunín to his darling consort, Lady Ancunín. Reception to follow.

Ascended Astarion x Spawn Tav (F!Reader)

w/c: 7k words . ao3 . spotify playlist . 18+ only . nsfw . dividers

a/n: thank you for reading! this one was inspired by information released by Ed Greenwood about wedding rites in the Forgotten Realms. I thought the blood pact in particular would fit AA and consort perfectly! hopefully it is an enjoyable read. I’d like to thank @bardic-inspo and @starryjuicebox for their support and help with this piece. I appreciate you lovelies!

tags: blood drinking; cunnilingus; orgasm edging; overstimulation; fluff & smut; body worship; light dom/sub; vaginal fingering; creampie; dry humping; frottage; multiple orgasms; possessive behavior; mirror sex; wedding night; piv sex

“Art desirous of union with the man who comes for thee?” 

As the Galerian priestess’ words reverberate around the otherwise solemnly quiet venue, you are escorted to the snow-covered aisle by your dapperly dressed handmaidens, clad in beautiful scarlet silks with gemstones sown on the sleeves, and all eyes present turn to gaze upon your quivering form—yet none are more piercing than the pair of crimson irises taking in your image from their place by the altar, ruby red flecks swimming in pools of blood whose glistening surface is now disturbed by the waves of emotion breaking on their sanguine shores. Astarion had not been prepared for this; for how his heart would beat faster, how his stomach would twist and turn at the sight of you in your wedding gown, holding the bouquet of dahlias and asphodels he’d endeavored to choose for you himself close to your chest, pale cheeks glowing a faint pink and snowflakes falling leisurely on the veil covering your hair. Suddenly, the shallow reasons for why he had even come up with the idea of hosting the ceremony are all but forgotten, and his frenzied thoughts reduced to a single word: perfect. You look perfect. A vision in white, a bloodied rose, his darling consort, his sinful bride.

His eternal lover.

The moment you start walking towards him, the attendees all rise from their seats and the processional begins, your timid gait almost in rhythm with each pluck of the harp’s strings. He looks hauntingly beautiful in his elegant white doublet, intrinsically embellished with golden and carmine embroidery, silver curls pristinely arranged and marble skin shining ethereally, reflecting the gentle light of the winter moon. The fresh wound on his hand stands in stark contrast against the otherwise smooth blancheness of his palm, blood trickling down onto the soft snow below, and the enticing scent of it wafts through the air almost like an invitation, a temptation too great for your starved self, as all the endless preparations have left you no time to quench the everlasting thirst he bequeathed to you. How long has it been since you last fed? Days? Weeks? Try as you might, you cannot remember. Yet it matters so little now, as he waits for you with almost jovial expectation, ready to once again seal your undying bond, renew the vows made on the fateful eve of your turning.

“Seven thousand souls have given me the power to carve out my own future, and I want you to be part of it.”

The more you approach him, the thicker the air around him becomes, the louder the buzzing in his ears sounds. Your lashes look so long, your rouged lips so full—and gods, how sweetly you gaze upon him, how bashfully, naught behind the bright gleam in your lachrymose eyes but pure, unconditional adoration. Through all the pain, all the hurt, your devotion to him never once faltered, and though the perpetual guilt haunts you both still, it is not in spite of your shared burden that you are brought closer together, but because of it. As you finally make your way to the altar and take your place by his side, time seems to come to a standstill, and in the minutes that follow, you can see nothing but his face, smell nothing but his blood, hear nothing but his heartbeat. No one else matters, nothing else matters—just you, him, and your immortal love.

“My sole endeavor now is to make this world yours and mine alone.”

The priestess takes your hand in hers, and using an ornamental dagger, cuts a gash across its surface, as she did with Astarion’s before your arrival—yet unlike his, the blood takes a while to bloom from the broken skin, so little of it remaining within your veins. You bite down on your bottom lip to stifle a yelp, her treatment of you clearly rougher than would be otherwise necessary; the eldest heiress of an influential patriar, her father had sponsored the construction of the first Galerian temple of Baldur’s Gate, a venture Astarion had enthusiastically supported to gain his favor, and with it, access to the growing following of the God of Ambition. A young acolyte at the time, her infatuation for your darling was undeniable—it was almost wicked then when he arranged for her to be the one to wed you, a political ploy to cement the bond between the two families. You knew his motives, and his cruelty brought you no joy, yet his darkness was something you had long decided to embrace rather than deny, the weight of your choices a penance you’d not ever dare renounce.

Once the deed is done, she lets go of you and backs away, a hint of contempt muddying her lowered gaze. Neither of you pay it heed—rather, you remain focused on each other, the guests but faceless figures looming in the background, blurred and meaningless. He holds his hand up, eyes locked with yours all the while, pupils blown out and raw emotion blazing like a firestorm in their depths. You do the same, your movements small and uncertain, yet as the tips of your fingers touch, he is the one to close the distance between your bloodstained palms, wound against wound, your crimson flowing into his and his flowing into yours. The connection assails you with almost overwhelming fierceness, your minds blended together and a thread of blood binding your souls to one another, as if you were but a single being. You can feel his heart pounding in your chest, his red coursing through your body, his thoughts seeping inside your head and reassuring you of that which needs not be professed; he loves you, oh, how dearly he loves you, like the moon loves the stars, like the dusk loves the dawn. Yours is the light keeping him from being consumed by the shadows, a flickering flame he is willing to protect, no matter the cost.

“I ask for thy hand as my equal, that our lives run as one, from this day forth,” he says, voice soft like velvet, laced with undeniable warmth despite its measured cadence. You may not truly be his equal, not really, but that is a fact you were always willing to accept. He is the king, you are his crown; he is the tree, you are its blooms. You could not hope to compare to his greatness, he could not hope to live up to yours—yet even if those around you may not understand, even if they may challenge it, your love is no less real, no less precious.

“I accept, before the gods, and before all these good people,” you answer, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes as the words slip from your trembling lips. His feelings become entangled with your own while the blood link lasts, and hidden beneath the yearning, beneath the sheer intensity of his longing for you, you sense anguish, you sense remorse. How many times have you danced to this same tune, played this same game? What a hopeless fool he is—manipulating your affections and toying with them, only to then realize the upper hand was hardly his, not in that pretty clearing during your first night together, not now, as you stand before him so beautifully, so earnestly, laying bare your heart and handing it to him on a silver platter. Your unwavering trust in him is something he was never quite able to come to terms with—why? Why is it that you want him, even after everything? Why give yourself to a selfish villain such as he while asking for nothing in return, nothing but for him to love you back? He knows not the answer to this, but still he would take it; your body, your mind, your soul, he would take it all and make them his, and his alone.

“I shall protect thee and succor thee, until my breath fails and the gods claim me, putting thy needs and comfort before mine own, and keeping no secret from thee, until the end of my days, or until the gods set us apart, though I hereby pray they shall never do so.” The gods have no say in this—you are forever his, and he is forever yours. Astarion is your god, and he shall be the one to claim you; such is the fate you have chosen for yourself. Once he finishes voicing the pledge, your hands come apart and the connection is severed, leaving you empty and vulnerable. Still, you carry on with the rites, bringing your bloodied fingers to his parted lips, and his to yours, staining them with your combined essence; while mimicking your movements, he purposefully refuses to pry his eyes from yours, looking upon you and through you, so fiercely yet so gently, so ardently yet so lovingly. You lose yourself in the urgency of his gaze, giving into its passionate allure, feeling your body lean forward almost as if you were but a flesh puppet, and him the performer pulling your strings.

“You’ve never tasted so sweet, darling.”

He lowers his head to meet you halfway, and the instant your mouth crashes into his, all your thoughts crumble down and dissolve into nothing. The coppery taste of your crimson mixed with his spreads through your tongue, reaching the back of your throat, and the pain of hunger tugs violently at your stomach; yet even in death, as he breathes into you, you feel alive, through him, for him, enraptured by the softness of his lips and the warmth of his skin, protected from the bloodlust, from its all-consuming fury. He cups your cheeks with both of his hands and pulls your face even closer to his, almost as if trying to assimilate you, become one with you, to which you respond just as desperately, standing on your tiptoes and wrapping your arms around his neck. The tears that had been threatening to fall spill from your closed eyes, the surge of emotions bursting your frozen heart open; he dries them with his thumbs, delicately tucking the few hair strands that have slipped from underneath your headdress behind your ear. Blood is his ink, and with it, he shall again carve his name on your soul and claim that which belongs to him—requiem aeternam dona eis, so that tomorrow, you may rise anew.

“We have a beautiful, bloody future to look forward to, my love.”

It’s useless. No matter for how long or how hard you peer into the grand cheval mirror standing before you, it refuses to show you your reflection. Rather, all you see is an empty room, illuminated by naught but the moonshine creeping in from the open balcony, its velvet drapers swaying with the evening breeze. The snowfall has ceased, but the air remains mercilessly gelid; with your veins painfully wanting for blood to keep them warm, you wrap your arms around yourself, which unsurprisingly brings you no comfort. The guests are all gone, the ceremony is over—now you are left alone with the wandering voices echoing in the recesses of your mind, which grow ever so loud as the aftermath dawns upon you and dissipates the dreamy fog that had been cast over your still veiled head up until this very moment. 

Alone—yet not for long.

“Stunning.” You hear his voice before you see him approach you from behind, elegant fingers brushing against your bare shoulders and squeezing them gently, the soothing heat emanating from his hands sending shivers of pleasure down your spine. “You look stunning, darling,” Astarion whispers in your ear, his pretty lips grazing the ruby-carved earring hanging off it, which in turn dangles ever so softly, catching the moon beams on its shiny surface; breathing hot air onto your sensitive flesh, he then slides them down your neck and plants a loving kiss at its base, half-lidded eyes staring back at his own lonesome figure on the other side of the glass. 

“Do I?” you ask, the hint of disdain in your tone taking even you by surprise. He, however, seems unphased; on the contrary, his handsome face creases into a subtle, cheeky smile, and his hands glide down your arms to then join them around your waist, his chiseled chest pressed flat against your back. As if under a spell, you promptly let down your walls and lean into his embrace, closing your eyes and cocking your head to the side to grant him better access. His smile widens in response, and he kisses your neck again, letting his fangs ghost over the set of bite marks disrupting your otherwise immaculate skin for a moment before pulling back slightly and resting his chin on that same spot.

“Why, shall I be your mirror, my sweet?” Astarion purrs, the silky smoothness of his voice covering your now limp body in goosebumps; while it may sound like he is being unserious or trying to egg you on, there is sincerity underlying his offer, an honest wish to make good on it. “Would that please you? Knowing what the world sees when it looks at you.” He articulates each word with a guttural growl, scarlet irises darkening as his grip on you tightens, yet swirling in their murky depths, you glimpse ruddy hues of worship and desire, fondness and hunger. “What I see.” 

No sooner than the question leaves his lips, he spins you around and presses one of his hands to the small of your back, the other brushing your veil away from your face and caressing your cold cheek—once you lock eyes with him, his cheerfulness vanishes and he gazes upon your graceful figure in pensive silence, scanning every inch of your frame, from the opulent headpiece around your forehead to the sequined pumps hugging your tired feet. After what seems like an eternity, he brings his hand on your cheek down to clasp one of your own, fingers intertwined with yours; lifting it up gently, he then gives it a tender kiss, an impish smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

“May I have this dance, dearest?” As he waits for your answer, it occurs to you that the chance to waltz with him never really presented itself, politicians and underground overlords alike having kept him plenty busy throughout the night. You nod timidly, and immediately he takes the lead, stepping to the side and bringing you with him. You tumble awkwardly as if about to fall, but his palm splayed across your back holds you firmly, and instead you lean onto his torso, resting your head right above his heart. The instant you do, its loud pounding reverberates against your ear, lulling you, cradling you, and your tangled bodies sway gently to its soothing rhythm. In the mirror, the image reflected is that of a groom dancing with his ghost bride; no music, no ballroom, no elegant footwork, and yet the intensity of his lovestruck stare paints such a vivid picture that one might see shadows of your presence reflected in his eyes.

“Let’s see then—a slender neck, deliciously bare as if inviting me to feast on it, thanks to that lovely hairdo of yours,” Astarion suddenly says, voice quiet but hoarse, tinged with undeniable specks of lust. He guides your hand to his own waist and lets go of it, only to then slide his newly freed digits along the curve of your throat, carefully tracing the bite marks with their soft pads. “Though I must say, beautiful as your gown may be, I would very much like to undo that pesky knot keeping some of it concealed. May I, darling?” he asks, fingers quickly moving to the satin ribbon holding your bodice in place, wrapped fast around your neckline and flowing down your naked back. You nod again, cheek still pressed to his chest, and with a smug simper, he expertly unlaces it with unparalleled adroitness, letting the pure white fabric slip down your now completely nude bosom. You shudder and snuggle closer to him, in response to which he affectionately folds an arm over your shoulder and buries his fingers in your hair, partially unweaving the elaborate braids that had been tugging at your scalp all day, only those held by the crystal flower barrettes on your temples remaining. 

“Flawless, supple skin, which flushes so handsomely with my essence blooming under it,” he continues, digits sinking deeper into your ribs before he twirls you around, dipping forward as if going in for a kiss, though instead, he reaches for the hemline of your dress, hiking it up your long legs and in so doing, exposing the sinuous contours of your hips and thighs. Almost absentmindedly, the wandering fingers knead their way to the plushness of your round behind, still hidden beneath your underpants; giving it a firm squeeze, he then brings his other hand down from your head to unbutton the tulle corset attached to your petticoat, and just like that, the sumptuous wedding gown falls to your feet, leaving you covered in nothing but your veil and smallclothes.

“Bright crimson eyes that always stare so very coyly, so very docilely.” With a provocative growl, Astarion pulls you taut against him, and once your navel clashes with his crotch, the obvious erection forming under his pants becomes nested right between your bodies. Holding onto your waist with both of his hands, he then presses his mouth to an artery pulsating slightly above your collarbone, letting his warm tongue graze it teasingly as he speaks. “And oh, those precious little fangs, peeking from under lips most luscious… shall we put them to good use, pretty vampling?” he asks, pitch lowering dangerously, and his meaning is made instantly clear—positioned as he is, his own neck is conveniently exposed to you, too tantalizing an offer to ever be refused, so you accept it graciously, biting down on his ivory flesh just as he bites down on yours. The piercing pain of his teeth puncturing your skin is entirely numbed as the thick blood cascades down your throat, and you lose yourself in the bliss of life being returned to your undead veins, gripping both of his arms in an almost delirious haze; while drinking from each other, you rock back and forth, dancing still, a dark waltz under the fading stars.

“I can’t wait to taste your lips after you’ve tasted me.” 

Never unlatching from your bruising artery, Astarion wraps his arms around your rear and picks you up, taking you with him to the canopy bed on the other side of the room. Upon reaching it, he sits down on the edge of the mattress, you in his lap, knees bent on each side of him. He takes a few more swigs of your crimson before pulling away, though you remain feeding—while letting you drink, he carefully removes your headdress and veil, laying them aside to then cradle the back of your scalp with one of his hands and gently run his fingers down your spine with the other. You both moan and groan quietly in each other’s ears, and you can feel him leisurely grinding his hardness against your core; due to the friction, slick starts building between your now puffed-up folds, most of his red going straight to your aching sex rather than swimming around in your stomach. 

“That’s enough, pet,” he coos after some time, lightly tapping your shoulder, and you reluctantly obey, prying yourself off him with a needy whimper. He smirks and plants a kiss on your forehead, sliding his hands under your thighs to lift you up slightly and rotate your body so that your back is turned to his chest. Once your buttocks are pushed flush against the swell between his legs, you help him peel off your soaked underpants—pressing his knees to the back of yours, he then spreads you both wide, exposing your pretty cunt to the chilly winter air. You mewl pathetically, casting down your gaze in shame and hiding behind your palms; with an amused snicker, he grabs your wrists and lowers them, holding both together with one hand and using the other to grasp your chin. “Look, darling,” he whispers, tilting up your jaw and brushing his fangs against your earlobe, “see how exquisite you are.” 

Raising your head almost hesitantly, you do as told, and it takes you a moment to register what has now come into your field of vision: the mirror, albeit more distant, is angled perfectly to reflect your naked form, no longer a ghostly apparition, but flesh and bone, your image returned to you thanks to Astarion’s ascended essence sizzling within your veins. Still holding your wrists, he slides the hand on your chin down your neck, gliding it across the hollows of your sternum and then up the soft curve of your breasts, where he stops to pinch a pebbling nipple, earning a high-pitched yelp from you; looking straight into your eyes through the glass, he lovingly kisses the back of your shoulder and smiles against your skin, obviously pleased with himself. After playing with the puckered nub for a moment, his fingers continue descending, through your navel and crotch—finally reaching their intended destination, they circle the twitching bundle of nerves crowning your mound, and you arch your back in turn, shock waves shooting up your limbs.

“Asta—ah!” you moan, rolling your hips into his hand, but he immobilizes you by tensioning his arm muscles, without ever stopping stroking the engorged knot. You whine impatiently, the tautness in your lower belly growing more agonizing by the second; Astarion, however, is clearly in no rush, his movements mercilessly languid. Pressing down on your clit with a deft digit, he buries two others in the sticky warmth of your folds, parting them gently and hungrily gazing upon your wetness, or rather, its reflection—in the mirror, your slickened entrance glistens wantonly, a honied flower waiting to be pollinated, given a healthy flush by the heat of his crimson. One finger rims it tentatively, coating itself in your juices; with no prior warning, he then plunges it in you up to the knuckle, venturing within the tightness of your walls. You try to stifle a shriek, in vain—emboldened by this, he plunges another, watching mischievously as you writhe and squirm. 

“Oh, little love, I do quite like those pretty noises you’re making, I like them very much,” he says, kissing your shoulder again and curling his fingers inside your slit, which flutters desperately in its urge to be stuffed full. Overwhelmed by the lewdness of the scene unfolding before you, not quite used to witnessing yourself in such a vulnerable position, you try turning your head to the side, only for him to quickly let go of your wrists, capturing your face in his now freed hand and pulling it back into its previous position, intent on having you be his audience as he brings about your ruin. “Tut tut, cheeky pup.” Despite clicking his tongue, Astarion’s voice carries a playful lilt, accompanied by the roguish glint in his lust-ridden irises. Bucking his hips forward, he wedges his still clothed bulge deeper within the valley of your ass, and even through the fabric, you can feel it twitching and jerking. “You will be a good girl for me, won’t you?” 

You nod vigorously, hot tears of yearning prickling your eyelids and escaping through your long lashes. He dries them with his thumb, the smirk still gracing his lips, yet his gaze softens a little; moving his hand from your jaw to your chest, he then cups one of your breasts, squeezing and kneading it gently before resuming his attentions between your legs, now pumping his elegant digits in and out of your center. Feeling your body edging closer to the precipice of desire, you hold onto both of his arms, clenched abdomen covered in a glossy sheen of salty sweat and cheeks burning bright red—however, just as you are about to climax, he suddenly snatches you up and throws you on the bed, stradling you right after so that you become entrapped beneath him.

“Good girls must earn their spurs, darling,” he growls, grabbing both of your knees and pushing them apart, licking his lips at the sight of your cunt spasming madly in protest, hopelessly slickened and swollen. “So needy… have you no patience, my dear?” Smoldering you with a lascivious stare, he ignores your avid pleas and lowers his head, pressing his mouth to the plushness of one of your thighs. Ever so delicately, he kisses it and lingers for a short while, only to then unceremoniously sink his fangs into the squishy flesh, coaxing a soft cry out of you. Moving his hands to your hips, he holds you in place while voraciously sucking on the throbbing artery, some of the blood leaking and trickling down onto the silk sheets. Your arousal makes your crimson taste delectably sweet, an ambrosial aphrodisiac—with each gulp, his neglected cock jolts angrily, translucent drops of precome running down its length, so hard now that the pink tip peeks out from the hem of his pants.

“It will only hurt a bit—the pleasure will be far greater than the pain.”

“Hnng—Astarion, please…!” you beg, attempting to bring a hand to the tumid bud convulsing atop your dripping core, but Astarion seizes it with one of his own and pins it to the mattress while drinking still. Finally unlatching from your thigh, he laps at the red beads that remain oozing out of the small wounds inflicted on your skin by his teeth, following the trail down to your groin; once there, he lets his tongue wander and graze your folds, tauntingly flicking it as if by accident. You bury the fingers of your other hand in his silvery curls, half expecting him to stop you, but he doesn’t—instead, he brushes the wet appendage against your clit, swirling it around for a moment before making his way downwards, leaving a glistening string of his saliva mixed with your lifeblood in his wake. Upon arriving at your entrance, he traces its outer edges, savoring you with lengthy strokes to then delve inside at last.

“Oh, gods… hah…” No longer capable of keeping the breathy whimpers and erratic pants contained within the confines of your mouth, you throw your head back and let them fall freely from your parted lips, grabbing a fistful of his hair, though carefully so as not to pull at it. Pleased with your reaction, he rewards you by nuzzling his face against your mound, reaching as deeply within you as possible while massaging and tasting your tender walls, the bridge of his nose auspiciously pressed against the hood of your pearl. Heat starts again pooling in your stomach, your every nerve set ablaze, and it doesn’t take long before the tension snaps and you finally come undone on his tongue, creaming and clenching around it. He enthusiastically partakes of your tangy nectar, eating you up still even as you bask in the afterglow, only stopping once you let go of him. With one last lick, he propels his torso back up, drool dribbling down his chin. 

“Ah, but that won’t do,” Astarion says, releasing your wrist to wipe his lips, their corners still quirked upwards into a haughty, devilish smile. “No, my sweet… I’m not nearly done with you yet.” Lowering both hands to his pants, he swiftly drags them down, freeing his erection and wrapping his fingers around its base. Your eyes are irresistibly drawn to it, and from under heavy lids you gape at the bulging veins and enlarged crown, his foreskin tautly pulled back to reveal the weeping slit. Leaning on one of your knees and slipping his free hand under the other to keep you spread open, he then guides the swollen cockhead to your fluttering folds, dipping it between them and glazing himself in your essence. With a quiet whine, you wiggle your hips, your sex still sensitive as you recover from your orgasm, but instead of backing out, he doubles down and presses the velvety tip harder against your raw knot, chuckling as your protests grow in volume and you try to slither away from him, straining your thigh muscles in an unsuccessful effort to close your legs.

“Gods, you are too cute.” Staring smugly at your flailing body while rubbing himself up and down your wetness, Astarion fastens his grip on your calf using just about enough force not to hurt you, but simply restrain your movements. “Where’s my good girl? Again. I know you can come again,” he purrs, voice deceptively gentle, although the warmth in his eyes is genuine. You shake your head, unable to muster up an intelligible sentence, your mind wiped clean of coherent thought; bending down to brush his lips against your temple, he kisses away the tears beading your lashes, affectionately pressing his forehead to yours. “You can do it. Come, my love. For me.” The whisper caresses your ears with such tenderness that as if by magic, you feel yourself relax, the pain slowly giving way to rekindled arousal. You try your best to focus on the budding sensation, reveling in the smoothness of his cockhead as it grinds against your sore clit, indulging in the intimacy of having your center of pleasure almost merged with his. Gradually, the waves of lust and hunger rippling through you gain momentum, spreading from your gut to your extremities, every inch of your skin tingling and prickling with primal yearning—taking notice of your rapid ascent to rapture, he hastily aligns his cock with your entrance, stretching its tight borders open, though not yet shafting himself inside. 

“That’s it, my darling little bride. Come for your sire.” You can barely hear his words as white noise overtakes all your senses, the world around you reduced to a blurry, chaotic maelstrom. The moment he finally slides his length between your walls, filling you to the brim in a single thrust, your toes curl and your hands ball into fists, your body going limp as you are at last pushed over the edge of ecstasy. Letting go of your knee to take off his doublet, he carelessly tosses it on the floor to then gently cradle both of your cheeks, pulling you into a sensual, passionate kiss. Muffled groans form in the back of his throat with every twitch of his cock, which pulsates longingly as you vibrate and flutter around it; he nips at your bottom lip as if asking for passage, sucking on the bloody droplets drawn from the nicked flesh, and once you comply, without delay his tongue starts massaging your own, eagerly rolling over it while he patiently waits for you to adjust to his size. Wrapping both of your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, you roll your hips upwards, wanting to feel all of him, each bead of sweat, each drop of blood, until it’s impossible to tell where you end and he begins.

“Mhnf—Astarion…” you mewl into his mouth, encouraging him to start moving, his rhythm slow and gentle at first. Despite how wet you are, he works your slit open with a bit of difficulty, his girth abnormally enlarged due to the drawn-out neglect, although even through the discomfort you find yourself relishing the chance to have him so snugly nested within you. Astarion, too, seems to be thoroughly enjoying having you gripping him so deliciously tautly, his usually husky grunts growing louder with every push. His hands leave your face to roam the sides of your body, gliding down your ribs, tracing the curve of your waist and slipping underneath you to grope and fondle your ass, slightly tilting you upwards so he can sink deeper within your cunt. Finally breaking the kiss, lips bruised and plumped, he lovingly gazes upon your just as disheveled self for a moment before leaning back down to give you a chaste, tender peck, only to pull away again, lowering his head to have his tongue ghost over the skin of your throat, your clavicle, and then up the swell of one of your breasts, stopping to hover above its reddened peak.

“Say it, pet. Tell me who you belong to.” His breath tickles the sensitive nub as he speaks, voice dripping with honey and eyes searching for yours from under thick lashes, darkened with desire. To anyone else the question may sound like just another racy quip, provocative banter to spice up the mood, but you know better—you know him better. Following the Black Mass, on that very eve Astarion would first test his unholy gifts as the Ascendant, not by calling upon the dark forces now at his mercy nor by turning into mist, but by making you his for all eternity. That was always the plan—to become your warden, your guardian, your sire and master. Never before you had he ever felt as wanted, as needed, and he cherished that power; for once in his life he was the protector, not the protectee, not the weak vermin wriggling about to find shelter. You gave him a reason to be, a reason to live, and he would not lose that, not for as long as his thawed heart beats.

“I’m yours, Astarion. All yours,” you say, giving him the reassurance he seeks while at the same time soothing yourself. Yes, you are his, entirely his, and that is of solace to you as much as it is to him. Satisfied with your answer, Astarion smiles softly; refusing to avert his gaze from your face, he then wraps his perfectly-shaped lips around your nipple, circling it with a pointed tongue. His teeth graze the supple surrounding flesh for a moment before unexpectedly sinking into it, and your mouth pops open to let out a soundless gasp in surprise. You propel your torso up slightly by resting your arms on each side of your body and leaning on your bent elbows, firmly gripping the sheets beneath you with both of your hands, panting and whining as he suddenly speeds up the pace, undulating his hips more energetically with every thrust. Through his cock and fangs alike, his presence inside of you is absolute, imperious, overwhelming—yet also comforting and fulfilling, like a crushing, constricting embrace.

“You complete me.” 

“Mnhg—ah!” While still latched onto your breast, avidly drinking from it, Astarion moves one hand to your lower back so he may gently raise you with him into a seated position, and you let go of the sheets to hold onto his broad shoulders for support. His other hand continues fondling your ass, fingers widely splayed across one of your cheeks, applying just enough pressure to push your crotch flat against his, securely settling you in his lap as you had been before, except you are now both facing each other. Prying himself off you, he then pulls back to admire his handiwork—the blood seeping from the freshly made puncture marks on your chest trails lazily down your abdomen, the bright crimson accentuated so beautifully by your pale skin, a perfect match with the rubies encrusted in the jewelry that you remain wearing despite being otherwise completely nude. You make for a breathtaking vision, one belonging perpetually and irrevocably to him.

“My darling,” Astarion croons, voice uncharacteristically tender, bringing his hand on your back up to lovingly cup your chin. “My pretty darling,” he whispers before capturing your lips with his bloodstained ones, hips snapping upwards to resume massaging your walls. You bob your body in rhythm with his thrusts, buttocks slapping against his thighs every time you sink down to the base of his length, and his fingers dig deeper into the soft swell of your rear, surely to leave bruises in the morning. Eyes fluttering close, you lean fully against him, the contours of your frame hugging his own almost perfectly, save for your breasts, which are now squished between your rib cage and his pectorals. Releasing your face, he instead grabs your throat, his grip strong, but not binding; giving it a gentle squeeze, he then pulls away, tongue absentmindedly lapping at the strand of saliva connecting you still even as your mouths unweave.

“Astarion…” The way you utter his name sounds almost like a plea, a supplication, yet you can’t bring yourself to finish the sentence. “I love you”—is what you mean to say, but you bite back the words instead. They are empty, meaningless; the depth of your bond is such that “love” is a sentiment which needs not be voiced. You know he can feel it, for you can feel it too—way past just affection, the pure devotion carved on the core of your very being, so raw and so visceral that it may as well be an open wound, never to heal, bleeding thick, warm emotion. As tempting as it may be to proclaim it, the world is not owed any measure of access to your relationship; this is something meant just for the two of you, a silent understanding between an eternal bride and her husband-to-be, sacred and precious. Thus, rather than speaking any further, you look into his eyes with as much earnestness as you can possibly manage, and he looks back at you just as intensely, pupils so dilated that his irises are but thin red discs, barely even visible. He knows; of course he does. He always did.

“Shh. Hush.” He lets go of your throat before softly pressing a finger to your lips, only to then comb all five digits of that same hand through your hair and cradle your head, gently nudging you forward. Following his lead, you rest your chin in the crook of his neck, flushed cheek brushing against his; upon raising your gaze, you notice that you can see the mirror behind him, reflecting his strong back and shapely waist, still encircled by your entangled legs. More than that, you can see him moving—his hips going up and down every time he disappears inside you, balls swinging whenever he lifts up his ass from the mattress. Watching him fuck you might as well be the most erotic thing you have ever laid eyes on, and for a third time arousal coils low in your belly. 

“Oh… Astarion…” you whimper in his ear, feeling him bump against the spongy skin of your cervix just as his cock is fully swallowed by your needy cunt in the mirror. Your blunt nails rake down his spine, gliding across the valleys and ridges of his scars, once a reason for shame and pain, now a proud symbol of his victory—and of the ghastly consequences it entailed. The fingers buried in your hair pull at it firmly as he pounds into you, and those on your rear continue their ministrations, wandering to the space between your buttocks to lightly graze the puckered entrance. As he peppers kisses over your nape and shoulders, his own moans grow more desperate and less dignified; sweat drips down his curls, now tousled and sticking to his forehead and temples. You feel so tight, so wet, so warm, so good—always such an obedient little thing, so eager to please, letting yourself be thoroughly ravaged and catering to his every whim, his every desire. There is nothing Astarion values more than his dominance over you; his most beloved treasure, the source of his life, the source of his light, however dim. How terribly he adores you, and how frightfully he yearns for you, to be drunk on you, an addiction so great that the very thought of you leaving his side for even a minute fills him with pure dread. To love you is bliss, but also torturous, for you are at once his greatest strength and his most alarming weakness.

“That’s it, gods, that’s it… you’re taking me so well, darling,” he groans, breath hitching as you push against his thrusts, the lewd sound of smacking flesh reverberating across the room. He is close, so close, and so are you—beyond the glass, his reflection plunges into yours with reckless abandon, and you can’t bring yourself to look away. As you ride him, you can feel the entirety of his length, the velvety skin, the throbbing veins, the tumid girth stretching and rubbing against your slickened walls; and with one last powerful jerk of his hips, you can also feel his thick spend painting them in spurts, flooding you like a broken dam. 

“Oh, my love…” Astarion continues rutting into you even through his orgasm, pumping his seed out of your slit. Before long, you too clench violently around him, thighs trembling and gut convulsing, coating his twitching cock in your release. Shoving you back onto the mattress, he keeps leisurely sliding in and out of your sex as you both pant quietly, reveling in the high of your respective climaxes; with his face nuzzled into your cleavage, he affectionately laps at the bite marks on your breast, occasionally intercalating each lick with tender little pecks. You bring one of your hands to his scalp and run your fingers through the silky locks, closing your eyes and emptying your mind, intent on enjoying the moment for what it is, safe and sound in the arms of your lover; he who took you into his sanguineous embrace and imparted on you the gift of absolution, he who set the world on fire while shielding you from the dancing flames, he who placed a crown of roses upon your head after ripping off every thorn. Lux aeterna luceat eis—let perpetual light shine, and from the dark, the two shall reign, betrothed in immortality, wedded in undeath, now and forevermore.

May they rest in peace.

[queenie-ofthe-void]

“Led Zeppelin? Never heard of them,” Steve lies, like a liar. Of course he’s heard of them, thinks maybe Hop’s mentioned them before. Doesn’t really know the band well, and probably definitely couldn’t name a song. But the comment serves its purpose, and the trap is set.

Eddie calls it the Zep Campaign. Every day they’ll listen to one album, and Steve will pick his favorite song from each. Eight days for eight albums. On the last day, they’ll narrow it down to one song to rule them all– because apparently even Led Zeppelin likes the Mordor books Dustin doesn’t shut up about. 

Each day, Steve struggles to pick a favorite. Day four isn’t bad– doesn’t mind a song that is actually called Rock and Roll, which is just a lazy title in his opinion– but they’re only half way through and the songs are all starting to sound the same. An endless stream of too-fast guitar melodies and weird, wobbly sounds he’s sure he’s never heard before. The vocals are his favorite part, but the lyrics are vague and confusing.

Long story short, he’s not a fan.

But this growing thing between him and this ridiculous metalhead is new, fragile. So if it’s important to Eddie, it’s important to Steve. 

“Stevie, we really don’t have to keep doing this,” Eddie concedes. It’s day eight, the final album, and he thinks even Eddie might be desperate to listen to something different. “You’ve listened to every other album and honestly this one is the worst. They were all on drugs, and this isn’t even their sound ya know? Like it’s not even real metal.”

And honestly, Steve does know. He’s been listening to this band for eight days and yeah, all the songs sound the same. But these ones are different. Softer. He’s made it this far, and he’s nothing if not persistent for the people he loves.

Sprawled out on the floor next to the boy he likes, passing a fading joint back and forth, he thinks he can suffer a bit longer. 

“No Eds come on, we’re halfway through anyways. Just flip it over and we’ll smoke while we finish.” Eddie huffs a sigh, but Steve can see the slight uptick of his lips, reminding him of why he’s doing this. He flips the record and crawls back, presses himself flush up against Steve’s side.

The next song is long, too long to keep his attention. They burn down their joint and Steve leans heavily onto Eddie’s open chest. He gets lost staring at the vinyl art. A guy dressed in a fancy white suit sits alone in a dive bar, the only splash of color against a dull background. The bartender looks gruff, like the rest of the bar, making the man stand out even more. He wonders if that’s how he looks posted up at the Hideout during Eddie’s shows. Wonders if he looks just as out of place in Eddie’s life as this man does, even though he looks comfortable there too. 

Eddie shifts his arms around Steve, bringing him back to the present. The song has changed and Steve feels the slow melody wash over him.

“Wait,” Steve cries out, flailing up and out of Eddie’s arms as he registers the new song. It’s soft with a steady beat. It’s got synth-- the sound Eddie told him he likes in pop music. This song isn’t loud and chaotic like the rest. The voice is soothing and the lyrics are mostly simple enough. It’s different, and he can’t believe it but–

All of my love, all of my love

all of my love to you, oh

“This one. I like this song. Like actually like it.”

Eddie sits up and stares at him. He can see the dramatic shock and annoyance on Eddie’s face. But it’s doing nothing to hide his broad smile and shining eyes. 

“Steven. Stevie. Baby, sweetheart, this absolutely cannot be your favorite Zeppelin song. Out of all the songs on all the albums and all the hours of poetic melodies I’ve forced upon you, you choose the most non-Zep Zeppelin song.” Steve laughs sweetly as he watches Eddie fail to keep the glee out of his supposedly annoyed voice.

The cup is raised, the toast is made yet again

One voice is clear above the din

“This song isn’t even metall!" Eddie screeches. He rants and raves, waiving his arms as he regales Steve with all of the reasons he should absolutely not like this one particular song. He's shining with happiness, dial turned up to a hundred and it's all aimed at Steve. He can't help but to gaze back fondly, enraptured in the adorably obnoxious spectacle.

"It’s all synth, almost no guitar because Page didn’t even write this one! He wrote all of them except two songs, Stevie, and of course that’s the one you chose. No one who knows good music even likes this album. It’s not even metal music and honestly I almost didn’t show it to you, that’s how bad it is!” They're both giggling, leaning falling slowly into the other's space. Facing one another, their feet tangled together, Steve twists and pulls on Eddie's rings. Just to touch.

“Well, maybe that’s why I like it,” Steve snarks, taking his hand. “Plus it’s a love song.” Daring to reach out.

All of my love, all of my love, yes

All of my love to you

Eddie’s smile dims a bit, softens at the edges as he grows serious. “It’s not a love song Stevie, not like that.” He’s looking at Steve but he isn’t. Looking past him into the back of his thoughts. “The lead singer, he wrote it for his son. His kid died of some kind of bad illness while he was on tour. Didn’t make it back in time.”

He pauses, and Steve waits. Knows Eddie has more to say, hoping his patience will pay off. Eddie’s sight refocuses and he heaves a heavy sigh. His eyes glisten as they lock onto Steve.  

“My mom used to sing it all the time. While she was cooking, or putting me to bed, or pulling weeds in the garden. She’d sing it constantly. Hell, she didn’t even know all the words, but she’d still try and sing the interludes– ya know, the music between the lyrics.” He laughs lightly, a stray tear just barely hanging on. Steve tightens his grip around Eddie’s hands and presses a kiss to his knuckles. A silent sign of gentle support and encouragement. 

“Sounds like a love song to me,” Steve whispers. Leaning forward, he presses a kiss to his forehead and pulls Eddie into a tight hug. 

All of my love, all of my love, to you now

“A love song just for you, from both of us.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I've always headcanoned that Eddie loves Led Zeppelin, because he plays guitar and loves metal and reads Lord of the Rings so of course he would.

[arcadia345]

Astro observations🌺

FYI I’m not a real astrologer, just my observations :) TW🔞

The cancer moon men I know are pretty chill and laid back + funny, but the women are so bitchy and moody😭 with a big sweet tooth

Every twin I know either has Gemini or Pisces placements

You ever meet someone and their neck just stands out for some reason added points if they smell good, most likely they’re a Taurus rising/ mars. Good example is Megan thee stallion her neck is so cute to me hehe

Aries in the chart can show you the things you were introduced to at a very young age, the early memories that you think of and say ‘That was wild lol’

3rd: could’ve started learning way before you started school(like flash cards and things) siblings and cousins, music, having access to electronics early

4th: erratic home life, the woman around you could be go getters

6th: could’ve got a lot of injuries when younger, probably couldn’t have a peaceful day even if you tried, bad experiences with animals

7th: domestic abuse, might have seen people having affairs, lots of disagreements between couples

12th:paranormal events, you could’ve had a lot of deja vu moments without even knowing, tend to have strong spiritual gifts,people having ill intentions towards you

Aquarius moon or degree/ moon in the 11th tend to have a “second mom” a person that treats them like their one of their own children, sometimes even better than their own mother does. 🌚

The people with mars in the first house I know have so many battle scars on their body

Moon/cancer in 3rd love changing their voices, and they have a bad habit of not telling the whole truth / white lies

Water sign on the descendent- people are always wondering what you’re up to, no matter how much you show them they’ll still wanna know what you’re hiding

Your first house correlates to how you came into this world, I have Chiron (ruled by Virgo) in my 12 conjunct my ascendant, uhm she said she almost d*ed having me😀 and I was a C-section baby. And the hospital did her so dirty(you know much they hate black women) they didn’t even stitch her back up correctly or drain her fluids and to this day she still has problems. The also gave her extra dosages of drugs just cause she’s a plus size woman- honestly I could go on and on but it really correlates with my cap rising and Neptune/Uranus in 1st

Mercury ☌ Sun, these people voices are just💋💋 they sound so sensual and unique ugh hard to explain it but 🥴 ex. Jungkook , Tupac

Gemini/ Libra in 2nd love collecting things like figurines makeup clothes candles plushies, could easily be a borderline hoarder tho

Ives noticed that sun in 10th have a strained relationship with their father, but their later years in life their relationship gets better, or not could really go either way, also could have money issues in their early years but ends up climbing the corporate ladder. It may take you a while to tho but just know it’ll be worth it in the end :) also they always stand out at their work place in some way, the coworker that you’re glad to see clock in at rush hour cause you know they gonna handle shit

Venus- mercury positive aspects love giving out nicknames to their favorite people 🥺if they’re always calling you cute names just know they really care about you lol

Sag moons and degrees have no chill😀 like calm down bae sag anything tbh🚬

9th house ruler in the 11th could go to the same college with their old friends or could become very popular in the area they’re in, I think they’d make good bloggers

Air signs or degrees in 5th are trend setters.

Aquarius you inspire people, they could take things and make it into their own like art

With gemini here people will “copy & paste” ur looks. But no matter what it just looks like a knockoff version of what you did lmao it just never look as good as yours

Libra here people are very opinionated on how you express yourself either in a good way or bad, neither less you guys get a lot of compliments on your style

Every time I see a Capricorn rising with Neptune in the 1st it’s like their skin is see through and fragile😯makes sense tho since caps rule the skin and Neptune fogs things up. A good example is Ariana Grande her skin looks so delicate

Pluto/Scorpio in the 11th/11th house ruler in 8th, your friends could hate each other🤺 also they could have a rough life/childhood, trauma bonding or just experiencing traumatic events together is common here

Chiron in Aries (honestly any Aries placements it just depends on where it is), most people didn’t pay attention to them in their childhood in some way so they learned to be independent because of their lack of support cardinal things fr

That’s all for today! Give me a follow if you enjoyed💕

[starshideurfics]

Buzzed, Buzzing - part 2

part 1

Buzzed, Buzzing

JQ, you can’t go dropping TWO horny photoshoots on us in less than a week!

steddie, omegaverse, Buzzed part 2, mdni 🔞

Finally being with Eddie is a dream. At least for the week he’s in town, fully foregoing Steve’s guest room and its comfy mattress.

Instead, it’s a week of Eddie wrapped around Steve each night, skin touching skin, bodies sated in a bone-deep way Steve’s never felt before.

A week of waking up to Eddie’s lips on his neck, to whispers of, “Morning, Puppy,” and sleepy yawns, arms tugging him closer and closer.

A week of Robin saying, “I’m happy for you, truly, but could you try going five minutes without swapping spit?!” only for Eddie to look her dead in the eye and lick whatever part of Steve is closest to his mouth.

A week of Steve floating on a cloud of affection and hormones.

Then Eddie has to leave, head to Chicago and buckle down for long days filming.

Steve mopes their whole last morning, sneaking shirts out of Eddie’s suitcase until the alpha relents and dumps out his dirty laundry. “Put ‘em all in your nest, I can get new shirts.”

Steve purrs, gathers the shirts, and herds Eddie back to his room for a last quickie before Eddie’s Uber arrives.

Being apart sucks. They videochat daily, text constantly, but Steve still misses Eddie every second he’s gone. So, he’s back where he started, mooning over pics on his phone, scenting at Eddie’s boxers as he works three fingers into his aching pussy.

He’s holding out, but Steve is counting down the days until shooting wraps, when Eddie would fly straight to Indy.

Steve’s on his lunch break, typing out a response to Eddie’s latest text as he shove pretzel thins and hummus in his mouth, when his phone starts buzzing.

Robin is calling, from the other end of the building. “Hey, Robbie, need me to get you a coke zero?” he asks instead of saying hello.

“Don’t tell me you got rid of your Munson-stalking web alert, because that’s the only reason I can think of for why you aren’t freaking out!”

He did, not really needing it when he has Eddie checking in with him at least hourly. “What? Robin, I’m texting with Eddie right now, what do you think I missed?”

“Just, look him up; your ADHD gremlin boyfriend probably forgot to mention it!”

Steve opens google, starts typing Eddie’s name and only gets as far as “ED” before autofill finishes it for him.

A new photoshoot and accompanying interview. Steve gets caught by a photo of Eddie eating a peach. It’s such a thirst trap, but it makes Steve smile.

Besides, there are other notes, but Steve’s scent has always been peach-forward. It might be a coincidence. Steve doesn’t think it is.

He reads the interview; about his current project, lots on the movie coming out next month that filmed a year ago, and his costars including a chill cat.

But right under the peach picture is a question about his personal life, how he stays grounded and connected when he’s constantly moving around for work. 

Eddie starts, as he always does, with Wayne, his friends, his charity work, the arts scholarship he funds.

“The truth is that it’s all for my partner. Like, I want to put good into the world, help kids like me who didn’t have the best start in life, but my focus is on being good enough for him, being the kind of person he can be proud of.” 

The journalist asks him to elaborate.

She writes about Eddie’s smile, the small one where he averts his gaze, emotions too big to share. “I dunno, just that he’s got me beat by a mile—he’s a teacher, middle school, you know, the worst time in a kid’s life. And he loves it!”

More words on Eddie’s laugh and kind eyes.

“So, yeah, the people I love, the people who love me, that’s how I keep my head on straight. That’s what it’s all about, right? Family, friends. Pack.”

Steve’s vision goes blurry on the last little paragraph. He wipes the tears from his eyes and pulls out his phone.

Just read the article! I’ve always been proud of you ❤️

Three little dots appear immediately to show Eddie’s typing, but they disappear and instead Steve’s phone buzzes with a call.

“I forgot that was coming out today! I should have warned you!”

Steve grins. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not, but thank you. And it wasn’t too much? I’m trying to keep my private life private, but if I can’t talk to you, I wanna talk about you. All the time. Because I fucking miss you, Puppy.”

“It’s okay,” Steve reiterates. “I miss you, too. So much. Wish you were here.”

The whine he lets out makes Eddie chuckle, low and dark. “Wish I had you here, could show you how much I miss you. At least you’ve got some new visual aides, but maybe tonight, when I call you could show me… Get your fingers wet for me.”

Steve lets out another breathy whine. “Yeah, want that.” He presses his legs together, tries to tamp down the feelings of desire before he gets too wet at work. “Miss your fingers, though.”

“Good,” Eddie husks. Steve can hear him lick his lips, so he knows Eddie’s nervous. “And it was supposed to be a surprise. But I’ve got the weekend off. My flight gets in at 9 on Friday night.”

Now expanded into a full fic! Read here

[shotmrmiller]

Maybe dessert first.

Pairings: Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish x afab!reader

MDNI 18+

TW: explicit content, oral sex, MINOR religious depiction or talks of it and heavy scott slang that i couldnt tell you if its right or not. anything else yall know da deal please lmk anything i need to put on here.

Johnny on leave loves taking you out on dates, which is how you ended up stumbling through your apartment door right after a movie and a couple of drinks at a bar—his fingers hooked in the belt loops on your jeans to pull you towards him and you bring your arms up around, pressing your clothed chest against his.

Johnny places open-mouthed kisses on your jawline, trailing down to below your ear, and your fingernails lightly dig into his scalp as his attention erupts your flesh in goosebumps. Teeth biting down on your shoulder, his stubble rubbing your sensitive skin raw— your nerves feel exposed, you’re so hypersensitive. 

“Ye look positively bonnie t’night, lass.”

“I’m wearing what I usually wear, Johnny.”

“Aye, and you’re as beautiful as you’ve always been.”

Knees bending, Johnny picks you up by the back of your thighs— fingers digging into the meat of your hips— as if you weighed nothing. Your mouths come together, fervent and hot as he walks the both of you to the dinner table. You open your mouth to ask why he put you here when he hooks his thumb over the back of your bottom teeth, forcing your mouth to stay open. Your reaction to this is visceral. 

Johnny’s crystal eyes flick from your own down to the saliva drop at the tip of your tongue that drips onto his thumb. He lifts a corner of his mouth and snags his bottom lip with his teeth as he tips his head to the side, admiring his work.

“Yer a work of art, sweet girl.”

He finally leans in and drags his tongue up along yours, at the same time grinding his covered length against your center and you’re keening. 

“Anno the filthy way you love to be kissed, bonnie, I haven’t forgotten.” 

Stepping back a bit, he tucks his fingers into the waistband of your jeans and knickers and you lift your hips to remove both articles of clothing in one go. As if he could read your mind Johnny says, “ Yer here because I’m about to eat and mi Mam always said proper folk eat dinner on the table.” 

This man is gonna be the death of you. A small death, if anything. You recline back to support your upper body on your arms behind you as you see Johnny kneel between your legs with a look of reverence as if your hips are an altar— and if Johnny had anything to say about it, you are his place of worship. 

“C’mere, lass. Dinnae keep a lad waitin’.”

You scoot closer to the edge of the table and his hot breath fanning out over your leaking pussy has you clenching around nothing almost desperate. Johnny presses light prickly kisses on your inner thighs and he works his way up to where you need him and yet he won’t give you attention where you need it most. Your thighs are trembling as he skims over your clit to love on your pussy lips and with every exhale his breath stimulates your nub and it’s so good but still not enough—

“Johnny, baby plea-”

And he finally, finally licks from the bottom of your slit to your clit, pointing his tongue to move it in circles before he goes back down to stick his tongue in and he curls it, collecting your slick like a parched man finding an oasis and he moans into your pussy before moving back and you can see him savor your nectar before he says, “My lass never has to beg me fer nothin.’ I’d lower the stars and have you walk with heaven at your feet if ye asked me.”

If his words didn’t almost have you about to bawl and ruin the erotic mood, you’d find his current actions crossing his adoring words almost lascivious. He brings you back to the moment with his hands underneath your ass, bringing you closer to him and his honeyed tongue. He encircles your clit with his lips, then flicks his tongue out, again and again. 

You’re digging your nails into the table as you get closer to the edge, biting your lip to keep from being too loud and Johnny is having none of it. Hand going up to your face, he uses his thumb to pull your bottom lip from in between your teeth and says,  “Absolutely not. Let the neighbors know who’s doing this to ya, bonnie.” and goes right back in. 

You're dripping onto the dinner table, orgasm building under his mouth, and you swear you hear Johnny moaning as loud as you— and you’re so close, it feels like a rubber band ready to snap— and as he slaps your ass to get your attention and make eye contact, he tucks the pointed tip of his tongue under your clit and closes his lips around it and sucks.

You chant Johnny’s name like a prayer as you come— head tipped forward, chin dropping down to your chest as you shake— and Johnny flattens his tongue on your clit to feel it pulse, like a heartbeat, and the extra stimulation of it lets you ride out your pleasure. 

Resting heavily on your arms, body completely boneless, you see Johnny pull back and his mouth and chin are dripping slick, and you can't even find it in yourself to be embarrassed. He puts his hands on your knees and grunts as he pulls himself up from the floor and of course, Johnny’s the type to be even harder after eating pussy for half an hour. His erection twitches in his pants and you have no doubt he’s painfully rock solid but his face is that of a cat who's got the cream. And you suppose he did get cream, didn't he? 

“Dinnae worry, lassie. I won’t fuck you here. I’d hate to break this table, knowing how much you like it.”

 ♡  ♡  ♡ 

[caeqey]

‎♡‧₊˚࿐ the little things — 엔하이픈 thoughts

or — things my suitor does, that i think en- members would do too

#wc 1k+ pairing ⟢ highschool bf!en- members x gn!reader ⸝⸝ genre : fluffㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ , angst if you squint warnings .ᐟ mentions an argument, food/ed (reader forces themself to not eat)

이희승 : messages you after every round

early in your relationship with heeseung, you quickly caught onto the fact that he loves gaming. you didn't mind it of course, it was nice that he had his own thing. it only became a problem when it started feeling like he cared more about his games than he did you. not wanting to assume the worst, you decided to talked to him about it. heeseung was honestly upset, not because he thought you were being selfish, but because his actions made you feel that way. since then, he loves to text you in between rounds, updating you about the silliest things like —

“baby look! i ranked up 😁” , “I GOT BATTLE ROYALE BABY YIPEE” and often, you'd see notifications like “sorry baby, i was in game. can you play with me next time, please?”

박종성 : brings you food for lunch

jay was aware that you had a bad habit of not eating your food. often times, you'd give your lunch to your friends. it hurt him, seeing you not eat, forcing yourself not to. he took note of your behaviour and then had the bright idea that he should make you your lunch. he never forced you to eat his cooking though, but he did encourage you. as time passed, you grew a healthier relationship with not only food, but with jay as well. the delicious meals he made daily were truly the highlight of your day. every now and then, he also likes to slip in notes that say —

“eat well, you deserve it dear :)” . “i know this is your fav, so i hope i did it justice ( ._. )” , “ sorry if it tastes burnt, making tanghulu is harder than it seems :(“

심재윤 : asks you to go to his games

volleyball season has finally arrived at your school, and that meant only one thing for you. watching your dear boyfriend's games on the daily. being the libero of the senior volleyball team was not a light task, but jake seemed to enjoy it nonetheless. whether it was a regular game or a tournament, he would always ask you to go. you didn't really have much of a choice though, since you are part of the school's photography club. this meant that attending games was mandatory for you. but, mandated or not, you wouldn't dare miss any of his games. it's delightful to see jake in his element, it's as if his aura changes the moment he's on the court. but of course, your boyfriend being the guy he is, jake always reminds you to —

“take pictures of me please !” , “cmonn you're a photographer, you have to take pictures of me” with a pout. however he seems to always say “WOAH THESE LOOK SO GOOD!!! i knew you were amazing sweetheart” in the end.

박성훈 : likes to watch you make art

as one of the school's most prominent artists, you are very well known for the art that you create. sometimes you art would be submitted in national competitions and you'd often get complimented on your skills during your school's art shows. and sunghoon is no different from those who admired your art. in fact, your boyfriend is "your number #1 fan" (as he likes to put it). he loves to go to your house, just sitting there and watching you work with the medium you chose. one day, you asked him why he loves to watch you every time to made art. he thought about what to say for a moment before stating —

“well, i find it odd how you're constantly told that your artwork is stunning, but you're never told that it looks even better as you're working on it. it's like you're an extension of the piece, my darling, you're abeautiful work of art as well.” tearing up at his words, you engulfed him in a tight hug.

김선우 : sends you pictures of the sunset/sunrise

your boyfriend knows how fond you are of the sunset and sunrise. even before you had gotten together, you two would always stay up all night to watch it rise when morning came. ironically, the day (or night ?) you two had gotten together, was when you were once again waiting for dawn. so, whenever sunoo had the chance to, he would always try to send pictures of the lovely sun rising and setting. it became your thing, something only you two did with each other. those pictures would often come with texts like —

“goodmorning honey! isn’t the sunset so pretty?” , “i was out walking and noticed the sun was setting hehe”, “hiii are you uppp? look what i saw :)”

양정원 - loves to build legos with you

both you and jungwon have always been interested in legos, and there was no exception to that.even when you two go to the mall. often entering the lego store to browse for any sets that you liked. so it did not come to you as a surprise when your lovely boyfriend gifted you a set of lego roses for your birthday. he knows how much you’ve wanted to build these types of things with him, it was practically the best gift he could’ve ever thought of! now sitting across from each each other, crossed legged and giggling. things were going as planned until —

“love it’s the other way around!” you exclaimed, “wait, huh ???” despite his experience in lego set building, flowers were not his thing. “the petal, i mean. it’s upside” you chuckled. the night of your birthday went on smoothly as you two continued creating the plastic flower arrangement.

西村 力 — is the miles to your gwen

riki is actually the reason why you had taken an interest in the famous spider hero. he would often talk about the movies and the comics with you, which interested you the more he talked about it. you adored it when he geeked out about his interests, it was the side of him that no one really saw. soon, you were just as addicted as he was. and when the across the spiderverse movie had come out, you two did not miss the opportunity to watch it together. by the time his birthday rolled in, you thought about the perfect birthday present. matching bracelets that were impressed by miles and gwen. you were undeniably anxious though, even spending all night pondering about how he’d feel about the gift. but upon opening your gift he said —

“woah!! it's so cool, thank you!!” riki smiled, genuinely. “wait, hey, are you alright?” he asked, sensing your anxiousness. “i’m glad you like it. and uhm, i know that miles and gwen don't exactly end up on good terms by the end of the movie… but don't worry riks. we're gonna do our own thing”

note ᝰ.ᐟ please tell me someone got the atsv reference in riki's part (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞ anyways i hope you guys enjoyed this !! please leave feedback, it would really help me out :)

[crushedsweets]

Would you ever consider including nurse ann in more of your art/ stories? She's one of my favorite characters and I think your design for her is amazing lmao- I'd also sort of like to know what her relationship with the others would be like

yes. actually. i would love to . ok i have some vague ideas for how shed fit into the lore so thatll be under the cut !! i also start rambling about lulus lore too cuz i decided theyre friends.

ok so, again, my au is based around slenders forest being like... some sort of magnet for the paranormal. slenderman wants to keep all of these cryptids within the forest.

since its in a fictionalized forest in tuscaloosa, where marble hornets was filmed, i decided to move the abanonded hospital they visited up north of the tuscaloosa lake. she roams there.

SOOOOO nurse ann is just... a demon. slenders forest is sort of like limbo for a lot of the cryptids and kinda puts them in like.. a long daze and loops unless they're consistently leaving or being grounded by humans.

i dont EXACTLY know why/how she's in that specfic hospital, especially since i dont believe she has an official origin? maybe when the hospital shut down, she was let go and wasn't transferred to work in a new hospital, so she lost her shit and preformed some crazy rituals that ended up making her an undead nurse ? now she's forever roaming the hospital. or maybe she was killing patients when she was a human and kept doing weird demon shit with their bodies and the operator/zalgo fed off of her bad vibes. LOL IDK.

now about lulu cuz i drew her too.

i used to be sooo fond of lulu. and i originally said she was just going to be another ghost roaming the forest pointlessly, mourning everything and being incapable of interacting with humans, BUUUUUT. she is 24 and NOT A GHOST?!?!??!?! IDK WHY ALL THIS TIME I THOUGHT SHE WAS JUST A GHOST WHO AGES CUZ YK HOW CHIBIWORKS STUFF WAS BACK THEN LOL... i def am tired of little kids being tortured and all these children ghosts tho so im kinda glad to have smth new to write. anyway. so im thinking lulus just another little demon thing... i'm thinking her story goes.

she was in strict private schools all of k-12, and went to uni on her own in tuscaloosa. she wanted to branch out, have a little rebelious phase, make friends, etc. tried to join a co-ed frat. she experienced an absolutely horrific hazing when she was like 19, the frat fully believed they killed her by accident and in their panic, tried to bury her in slenders forest, and some demonic entity in the forest infected her before she was buried fully. she ends up climbing out of her shallow grave, never having died. perhaps the operator did it, perhaps zalgo like in her og lore ? PERHAPS ANN CUZ SHES A DEMON HERSELF?

anywaaayyyyy :3 l think theyd be cute friends. they just look really cute together and i could see good chemistry so i totally would love to expand on them and make them friends. maybe expand more on the type of species they are, what kind of powers they have(esp if i make ann the demon who infects lulu).

BUUUUT ALSO this made me realize i should totally look into adding zalgo to my lore. cuz it doesnt make sense for the operator to make anyone a demon, thats not really what he does.... and i dont want him to do that i just dont like the vibes. so mmm yes.

anyway in terms of relationships..

lulu and her are cool good besties beautiful they would take selfies and do tiktok dances together.

masky and hoody are incredibly indifferent to her, because they dont have to worry/visit her often. she stays in the hospital thats in the forest, and thats exactly where slenderman wants her, so theyre content. theyre kinda grateful she keeps lulu in the hospital too, cuz lulu actually freaks them out bc she'll be jumping at them and shit talking about their eyes.

tobys EXTREMELY scared of ghosts (bc of his hallucinations of his sisters ghost . . ). he eventually gets over it(kinda?) with sally, but he keeps accusing ann and lulu and the sort of being ghosts cuz they just.. kinda pop in and out. at least jack has to walk into the room to show up. so he doesnt like them

mmm jack wouldnt like her IF he knows that she kinda turned herself into a demon through like, a ritual or smth. he'd be beyond pissed to know someone CHOSE to be what he is. if he doesnt know, he doesnt care for her. he kinda jokes about 'well why dont YOU be their medic' and shes like 'dont fuckin wanna be'.

jane and liu and kate prob dont know her... kate might but wouldnt care.

jeff would prob think shes hot or some bullshit and nina would be beyond pissed. at first ninas like AHHH SHES SO COOL cuz shes a fangirl at heart, but the second she hears a single 'goddamn' from jeff shes livid.

ben prob wouldnt care much for her... hes so uninterested in demons idk why i just feel like he doesnt care.

clockwork would LOVE HER. she'd think she's so fucking cool. she'd try talking to her all the time but ann prob wouldnt be interested in clocky at all...

ofc the proxies purposefully come into contact with the paranormal the most because thats their job, so i wrote the most for them, but that doesn't mean theyre the closest or anything.

ok thank u anon you did smth to my brain that benefitted my mental health cuz i love writing this shit for the creeps thank u sm .

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

today I've been reminded of detective comics annual 8, which is my favorite of ed's comic appearances, so I thought I'd ask you what's your favorite riddle guy comic and why?

god DC annual #8 makes me INSANE that's like. pure distilled Riddler sauce right there. absolute platonic ideal of the Riddler. he is perfect to me. somebody surgically wire that into Tom King's brain before they ever let him write the Riddler again I swear to god.

I'm still working on my New Earth read through so I'm finding new faves all the time, but as of this exact minute some faves:

I fucking hate to hand it to Chuck Dixon but Detective Comics #705-707 (Dixon, Graham Nolan, and David Roach, 1997) is so so good. like he's literally just trying to do a stupid baseball heist and blow up Cluemaster while he's at it. THAT is a Riddler story, babey. Echo and Query are even there!!!

Impulse #48 (Bill Messner-Loebs and Craig Rousseau, 1999) is just a spectacular one off Riddler appearance, namely because you get the strong impression that if left alone with Bart for like. two hours. Eddie would probably willingly kill himself. very fun watching his schtick absolutely crumble in the face of a speedster.

Batman Adventures Vol. 2 (worked on by like half a dozen different writers, 2003). honestly the BTAS version of the Riddler was never anything spectacular to me - he's fun, not a standout - but goddd he rules so hard in the sequel comics. he's (once again) retired and made legitimate money, so now he's so desperately bored he's harassing Batman with stupid non-crimes until Batman snaps and just starts using him as a private detective so he'll have something to do. mwah.

Batman Confidential #26-28 (Nunzio DeFilippis, Christina Weir, Kevin Nowlan, and José Luis García-López, 2009), which is collected as Batman: King Tut's Tomb. another banger story, it has everything I like. namely, the Riddler being so annoying that Batman lets him work a case with him and bitchy buddy comedy shenanigans ensue. and King Tut is there!

Dinner for Two (Ram V and Phil Hester) in Strange Love Adventures (2022) #1 is so... like they just went for it. they said fuck it the Riddler bisexual and spending his Valentine's Day making Batman hang out with him to complain about how he's lonely. make of that whatever you want.

Catwoman: Lonely City (Cliff Chiang, 2022). an older, widowed Riddleguy who's kicked his riddle habit (in addition to, apparently, a pretty brutal coke problem) and is settled in to running slightly more normal grifts with his adorable daughter Edelia. look at them. I have to show you this because I just like Chiang's art so so much, look at themmm

also obligatory shoutout to the Riddler appearance of all time, whichever issue of Bruce Wayne: Murderer?/Fugitive is the one where he's crashing at Stephanie Brown's house being a fucking menace and Black Canary kicks him out on his ass in five seconds flat while he's wearing a fluffy yellow bathrobe. and also kicks Cluemaster out of his own house for good measure.

[hotdaemondtargaryen]

EWAN MITCHELL IN CONVERSATION WITH EMMA D'ARCY FOR HERO MAGAZINE.

EMMA D'ARCY: — WHERE ARE YOU? ARE YOU IN AMERICA?

EWAN MITCHELL: NO, BUT I WAS SHOOT IN NEW YORK. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN?

ED: YEAH, I DID THE CRUCIBLE THERE [AT THE YARD THEATRE IN 2019] AND WE GOT A GREYHOUND TO SALEM, THEY'RE REALLY INTO THE OCCULT THERE. — WHAT ARE YOU UP TO AT THE MOMENT?

EM: I'M SUFFERING SEVERE JET LAG FROM NEW YORK, BUT I LOVED IT. I LIKE THE AMBIENCE, THE PEOPLE, THE FOOD. I LOVE HOW EVERYONE SAYS, 'I GOT YA.' — WHAT ABOUT YOU?

ED: I'VE JUST DONE A WEEK OF REHEARSALS BUT I'VE HAD A NICE BIT OF TIME NOT DOING ANYTHING PRIOR TO THAT.

EM: THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM.

ED: I'D BE QUITE HAPPY TO DO NOTHING FOR A REALLY LONG TIME. I FIND IT INCREDIBLY INTERESTING TO DO ALMOST NOTHING AT ALL. I DON'T KNOW HOW MUCH OF A PROBLEM THAT'S GOING TO BE FOR MY CAREER GOING FORWARD, BUT IT'S BEEN NICE. [LAUGHS]

EM: I HAVE TO STAY BUSY WHEN I'M NOT WORKING.

ED: YEAH BUT YOU'RE YOUNG, I'VE CROSSED THE BOUNDARY INTO A DIFFERENT TYPE OF LIFE.

EM: NO WAY.

ED: I DON'T MEAN IT IN A BAD WAT EITHER, IT'S ACTUALLY SO CRAZY. FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER I'M QUESTIONING, 'WHAT DO I WANT MY LIFE TO LOOK LIKE?' IT'S NOT A QUESTION I HAD EVER ASKED BEFORE — IT'S COOL. I THINK MAYBE IT COMES WITH A REALISATION THAT THIS IS IN FACT YOUR LIFE.

EM: OH WOW, WHAT AGE WILL IT HIT ME?

ED: HOW OLD ARE YOU?

EM: I'M 26.

ED: YOU'VE PROBABLY GOT FOUR OR FIVE YEARS. [LAUGHS]

EM: WHEN I'M NOT WORKING I DO HAVE TO KEEP BUSY. I DON'T KNOW HOW IT IS FOR YOU, BUT I HAVE TO ADOPT A KIND OF SLEEPER AGENT LIFESTYLE, I HAVE CREATE A ROUTINE. I BOX EVERY OTHER DAY AND KEEP MY MIND BUSY. I THINK MY MATES KNOW I COME WITH A DISCLAIMER THAT IF ANYTHING COMES UP, THEN I'M DROPPING EVERYTHING FOR WORK — I JUST LOVE IT.

ED: WHAT YOU DESCRIBE IS A STATE OF PERPETUALLY LEAVING.

EM: EVERYTHING I DO ALWAYS RELATES TO ACTING WEIRDLY, IT HAS TO INFORM MY PROCESS IN SOME WAY, SHAPE OR FORM AND IF IT DOESN'T, IT SWITCHES ME OFF.

ED: — WHAT IS YOUR PROCESS?

EM: I NEVER WENT TO DRAMA SCHOOL SO EVERY JOB I DO IS AN OPPORTUNITY TO HONE IT AND TRY NEW THINGS.

BRUCE LEE SAID, 'ABSORB WHAT IS USEFUL AND DISCARD WHAT IS NOT,' HE WOULD CHERRY-PICK FROM DIFFERENT COMBAT DISCIPLINES AND IN DOING SO FORMED HIS OWN MARTIAL ART.

SIMILAR TO ME, I'M TRYING IT ON THE FLY AND SEEING WHAT STICKS, WHAT DOESN'T, MIXING IT UP FOR DIFFERENT CHARACTERS. AND SO FAR, SO GOOD. — WHAT ABOUT YOU?

ED: I ALSO DIDN'T GO TO DRAMA SCHOOL AND STRUGGLE WHEN DIRECTORS VERY KINDLY ASK, 'HOW CAN I BEST SUPPORT YOUR PROCESS?' I DON'T FEEL PARTICULARLY CLEAR ABOUT WHAT THAT MEANS.

EM: — SO YOU'RE QUITE INSTINCTUAL?

ED: I THINK I'M PART COMPLETELY PRE-MEDITATED AND PART NOT.

I WOULD SAY THAT I HAVE A CONFIDENCE PROBLEM SO I DO A LOT OF PREPARATION, BUT FOR ME PREPARATION IS CONFIDENCE, WHICH ALLOWS ME TO LET GO OF THE PREPARATION ON THE DAY.

WHEREAS, IF I WERE TO COME IN EMPTY-HANDED, MY CONFIDENCE PROBLEM WOULD FLARE UP.

EM: I HAVE TO CONGRATULATE YOU ON YOUR SHORT FILM 'THE TALENT' [EMMA CO-PRODUCED AND STARRED IN THE 2023 BIFA-NOMINATED SHORT], I LOVED IT.

ED: THANK YOU, IT WAS A JOY.

EM: WAS THAT THE FIRST THING YOU'VE PRODUCED?

ED: YEAH, I CO-PRODUCED IT. I WOULDN'T HAVE MANAGED IT ON MY OWN.

EM: I'D LOVE TO DO THAT ONE DAY, IT'S SO COOL.

ED: I'VE LOVED GOING TO FILM FESTIVALS WITH IT BECAUSE IT'S NOT SOMETHING I'D DONE BEFORE, IT'S SUCH A NICE PROCESS. — WOULD YOU LIKE TO DIRECT?

EM: I DON'T KNOW, MAYBE NOT YET. I STILL FEEL LIKE I WANT TO ACT. I LOOK AT WHAT MARGOT ROBBIE HAS DONE WITH LUCKYCHAP [ENTERTAINMENT, ROBBIE'S PRODUCTION COMPANY] AND HOW SHE'S PRODUCED FILMS SHE'S REALLY PASSIONATE ABOUT, FILMS YOU THINK CAN CHANGE THE INDUSTRY IN SOME WAY. I'D LOVE TO DO THAT. GROWING UP, THERE WERE THE FILMS I REALLY ENJOYED, NOT THE NORMAL LIGHT ENTERTAINMENT ONES, BUT THAT EXPANDED MY UNDERSTANDING AND CHALLENGED ME. THOSE FILMS ARE THE ONES I WANT TO BE A PART OF IN SOME WAY, SHAPE OR FORM. IF NOT ACTING, I GUESS IT WOULD PRODUCING. — HOW LONG WAS THE PROCESS FROM START TO FINISH?

ED: PROBABLY AROUND A YEAR FROM THE SCRIPT NOT EXISTING, BUT IN A MORE STRUCTURED WAY, MAYBE A PRE-PRODUCTION OF FIVE MONTHS. I DON'T REALLY KNOW WHY I ASKED YOU IF YOU WANTED TO DIRECT BECAUSE EVERYONE ALWAYS SAYS THAT AND I FEEL LIKE INHERENT IN THE QUESTION IS THAT CULTURALLY, WE PRIVILEGE THE IDEA OF THE PRIMARY ARTIST. IF YOU'RE AN INTERPRETATIVE SECONDARY ARTIST, WE DON'T CREDIT THAT IN QUITE THE SAME WAY, BUT I DON'T AGREE WITH THAT VIEW. I DON'T WANT TO DIRECT BUT REALLY LIKE PRODUCING AND FEEL VERY CONFIDENT IN MY SECONDARY ARTIST STATUS.

EM: I FEEL LIKE THAT WITH BOXING, IF I EVER WENT INTO AMATEUR THERE ARE A LOT OF OTHER HUNGRY UP-AND-COMING BOXERS AND IT'S JUST NOT MY GAME, I'M NOT AS INSPIRED BY THAT AS I AM BY ACTING. I DON'T WANT TO BREAK MY NOSE AND GET KNOCKED OUT.

ED: IF YOU'RE BOXING A LOT, HOW DO YOU ENSURE THAT YOUR NOSE DOESN'T GET BROKEN?

EM: WE KEEP IT LIGHT AND IT'S USUALLY JUST PADS, IF I HAVE TO WEAR A HEAD GUARD I WILL DO, BUT SAFETY PRECAUTIONS ARE IN PLACE. [LAUGHS] — DO YOU BOX?

ED: I DON'T, BUT A FRIEND OF MINE TOOK PART IN A QUEER CHARITY BOXING EVENT AND I WAS SURPRISED BY HOW VISCERALLY TERRIBLE I FOUND IT TO WATCH THEM FIGHT.

EM: DID YOU NOT WANT TO GET IN THERE AND JOIN THEM?

ED: I SUDDENLY FELT SO WILDLY HELPLESS AND ALL I COULD DO WAS SCREAM FROM A PLACE OF WANTING TO PROTECT AND SUPPORT BUT ALSO FROM A PLACE OF FEAR. MY FRIEND DID BEAUTIFULLY AND THEY'RE AMAZING, BUT I'D NEVER BEEN IN THAT ENVIRONMENT BEFORE AND WHEN IT CAME TO IT I COULDN'T HANDLE IT. — HOW DID YOU GET INTO ACTING?

EM: I ALWAYS WANTED TO DO IT BUT I'M NOT TOO SURE WHERE IT CAME FROM. I HEARD ABOUT THE TELEVISION WORKSHOP IN NOTTINGHAM AND APPLIED THE FIRST YEAR BUT DIDN'T GET IN. FOR THE SECOND YEAR, I HAD THIS LITTLE NOTEBOOK THAT I WOULD JOT DOWN IN BECAUSE I KNEW THE STRUCTURE OF THE PROCESS OF THE AUDITION. I CAME UP WITH ALL OF THESE NEAT LITTLE QUIPS I COULD USE. I GOT IN THE SECOND TIME, THEN FROM THE WORKSHOP I DID A SHORT FILM CALLED 'FIRE' DIRECTED BY CHRIS ANDREWS. I GOT IT BURNT ONTO CDs AND I GOT ALL THE NAMES OF THE AGENCIES I KNEW OF IN LONDON. I WENT DOWN [TO LONDON] ON THE TRAIN AND POSTED THEM TO ALL OF THE AGENTS.

ED: SIDE NOTE, ARE YOU UNCONSCIOUS YET? I'D SAY I'M STILL SELF-CONSCIOUS IN INTERVIEWS.

EM: I ALWAYS WANT TO FLIP IT ON ITS HEAD AND ASK THE INTERVIEWER QUESTIONS, JUST BECAUSE OF THAT INNATE FEAR THAT IT MIGHT BORDER INTO THERAPY AND YOU MIGHT BE ROBIN WILLIAMS AND I'LL BE MATT DAMON SITTING ON A PARK BENCH IN BOSTON SOMEWHERE AND IT'S GOOD WILL HUNTING.

THERE'S SOMETHING ABOUT MYSTERY AS WELL, AND ONCE YOU LOSE THAT MYSTERY YOU CAN'T REALLY GET IT BACK. IF PEOPLE GET TO KNOW THE REAL ME, I DO BELIEVE IT'LL DETRACT FROM WHAT I'M TRYING TO DO AS AN ACTOR. I WANT YOU TO ESCAPE INTO MY CHARACTERS, I DON'T WANT YOU TO SEE EWAN. — HOW ARE YOU WITH INTERVIEWS? I'M SUPER GRATEFUL YOU'VE DONE THIS.

ED: I'VE GOT BETTER, I DON'T MEAN BETTER AS A QUALITY JUDGEMENT, BUT I HAVE BECOME MORE COMFORTABLE. I WAS VERY BAD AT THE BEGINNING, I HAD THIS 'GOOD SCHOOLBOY' WHO CAME OUT AND ACTUALLY, HE COMPLETELY WIPED MY PERSONALITY. HE FEELS THAT IT'S A TEST AND THERE IS A RIGHT ANSWER. I HAVE TO BANISH MY GOOD BOY OTHERWISE I AM VIOLENTLY DULL.

EM: AND THAT'S ME RIGHT NOW, RIGHT? [BOTH LAUGH]

ED: EWAN, GET ON THE CHAISE LONGUE, WE'RE GOING TO TALK. [BOTH LAUGH]

IT IS FRIGHTENING AT THE BEGINNING; I DON'T KNOW HOW YOU FEEL BUT I'M ONLY JUST AT A POINT NOW SINCE THE SHOW CAME OUT THAT I FEEL OK.

EM: REALLY? DID YOU NOT FEEL YOURSELF GETTING WARMED UP THE MORE YOU WERE DOING THAT MASSIVE PRESS RUN FOR SEASON ONE?

ED: NO. [LAUGHS]

I THINK MY GOOD BOY CAME OUT, BUT YOU CAN'T PREDICT THE PARAMETERS OF A CHANGE LIKE THAT IN YOUR LIFE UNTIL IT HAPPENS AND YOU'VE SAT IN IT FOR A WHILE. I FOUND IT QUITE FRIGHTENING [AT FIRST].

EM: YOU'RE WORKING WITH BEN WHISHAW AT THE MOMENT RIGHT?

ED: YEAH.

EM: I READ THAT WHEN HE'S OFF STAGE HE HAS THAT ANXIETY TOO, WATCHING HIS WORK YOU'D NEVER EVEN THINK OF IT. IN 'PASSAGES,' HE'S AMAZING AND EVEN IN THE SMALLER SUPPORTING CHARACTERS TOO.

HE JUST KILLS IT IN ANYTHING HE DOES. I FOUND IT INTERESTING BECAUSE YOU DON'T SEE [ANXIETY] IN HIS PERFORMANCES, WHICH IS INSPIRING.

I DID A COMIC CON IN BRAZIL AND IT WAS SUPER FUN BUT AT THE SAME TIME, I HAD TO BE SOMEONE ELSE. I HAD THIS LEATHER SUIT ON AND IT WAS SO EMPOWERING. I FELT UNSTOPPABLE AND IN THE END I ADOPTED THIS CONFIDENT CHARACTER.

I RECOGNISE I NEED TO BE MORE MYSELF IN THESE SITUATIONS, FOR SURE.

ED: I HONESTLY DON'T KNOW IF THAT'S TRUE, IT DEPENDS ON WHAT YOU WANT TO GIVE AWAY.

EM: I HAVEN'T SEEN YOU AT ALL WHILE SHOOTING SEASON TWO.

ED: — HOW DID THIS SEASON FEEL?

EM: I LOVED IT. I LIKE THAT SEPARATION BETWEEN OUR TWO SIDES OF THE FAMILY BECAUSE WHEN WE DO MEET AGAIN IT'S GOING TO BE SEISMIC. THE FIRST SEASON IT WAS GREAT TO FINALLY SEE THAT CRESCENDO AND NOW SEASON TWO IS THE FALLOUT.

I REALLY CAN'T WAIT FOR YOUR PERFORMANCE, IT'S QUITE NICE NOT KNOWING WHAT'S GOING ON.

ED: I AGREE, AND IT'S NICE HAVING SO MUCH TO WATCH THAT YOU HAVEN'T SEEN. I HAVE A WHOLE HALF OF THE SHOW THAT I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT. — DO YOU WATCH YOURSELF?

EM: I DO, IT TAKES A GOOD TWELVE OR THIRTEEN TIMES BEFORE I CAN APPRECIATE IT. I FIND IT REALLY DIFFICULT BUT I ALSO RECOGNISE THAT I WANT TO KNOW WHAT WORKS AND WHAT DOESN'T. — DO YOU?

ED: YES, BUT QUITE MINIMALLY. — DO YOU WATCH PLAYBACK ON SET?

EM: — I CAN'T LOOK AT MYSELF, DO YOU?

ED: NO, BUT I GENUINELY THINK IT WOULD BE HELPFUL IF I COULD STOMACH IT. SO MUCH ON SCREEN IS SO TECHNICAL AND BECAUSE SO MANY FACTORS MEDIATE YOUR PERFORMANCE, IT'S REASONABLE THAT THINGS MIGHT NOT COMMUNICATE AS YOU'RE IMAGINING.

BUT THEN I DON'T KNOW WHETHER THAT WOULD BE A DEGREE OF CONTROL THAT IS JUST NOT REAL BECAUSE WE HAVE SO LITTLE CONTROL AND FUNDAMENTALLY THE NARRATIVE WILL BE IN THE EDIT.

EM: — WHAT IS IT LIKE WORKING WITH MATT SMITH?

ED: IT'S GREAT, I LOVE HIM AN EXTRAORDINARY AMOUNT AND FEEL PRIVILEGED WHEN I GET TO WORK WITH HIM. IT'S SO NICE TO KNOW WHAT LIGHTS SOMEONE UP, HE'S SO REACTIVE AND HE RESPONDS BEAUTIFULLY TO NEWNESS, IT'S SUCH A DELIGHTFUL GAME.

EM: I REMEMBER THAT MOMENT IN SEASON ONE EPISODE EIGHT AROUND THE BANQUET TABKE AND AEMOND AND DAEMON HAVE A FACE-OFF, AND IN ONE OF THE TAKES MATT SPOKE IN A MURMUR BUT IT WAS HIGH VALYRIAN. I DID NOTICE THAT QUALITY IN THE LIMITED TIMES I WORKED WITH HIM. THERE IS SOMETHING SPICY ABOUT MIXING IT UP, KEEPING YOU ON YOUR TOES AND IN TURN, YOU PICK UP A FEW MOVES IN THE PROCESS.

ED: IT'S REALLY GOOD. THE GUY'S GOT GREAT TASTE AS WELL, SOMETIMES HE HAS LOVELY IDEAS ABOUT HOW A THING MIGHT PLAY BEST AND AT WHAT SIZE. I GET THE SENSE HE HAS A REALLY VIVID PICTURE IN HIS MIND'S EYE AND THAT'S SO HELPFUL BECAUSE IT REFERS TO THE TECHNICAL PART OF OUR JOB. IT'S A PRIVILEGE TO BE 'LOST IN THE CHARACTER' BUT THERE IS A SPECIFIC TECHNICAL PART OF HOW SOMETHING COMMUNICATES AND I THINK HE IS REALLY GOOD AT THAT.

EM: THAT'S SO INTERESTING. I DO TRY TO TAKE THAT INTO CONSIDERATION WITH FRAME SIZES AND WHAT TO PLAY UP AND PLAY DOWN. IT'S ALL A BIG LEARNING CURVE, ISN'T IT?

[volleypearlfan]

Canadian Cartoons Are Great

Today, the popular cartoon YouTuber Saberspark uploaded a video talking about the infamous “fart episode” of the 2023 Total Drama series. The comments were filled with hatred and generalizations towards Canadian animation. These terrible comments are not the fault of Saberspark, but it is true that the “big users” in the cartoon community are (mostly) Americans who spread myths and stereotypes about Canadian cartoons. This has bothered me and a few others for quite a while, so here, I’m going to prove why Canadian animation is great, actually, and dispel common misconceptions

All Canadian cartoons are about fart jokes - if you say stuff like this, you clearly have never seen a Canadian cartoon outside of Total Drama and Johnny Test. That’s like if I said “all anime is naughty tentacles” or “all American cartoons are about anvils falling on your head.” And don’t act like your precious USA cartoons and anime are exempt from toilet humor. One example of an anime with toilet humor is Panty and Stocking with Garterbelt - their first episode was about a monster made out of shit. And we all know about the gross out cartoons such as Ren and Stimpy.

Canadian cartoons are cheaply mass-produced because of CanCon - No. What CanCon ACTUALLY states is that a certain percentage of content on a Canadian channel has to be Canadian-made. The policy is about supporting Canadian art, not “mass-producing” cartoons, since this applies to ALL Canadian TV and radio content, animated or otherwise.

Now, let me tell you some reasons why Canadian animation is actually great

Some of your childhood shows, such as Arthur, Franklin, and Little Bear are Canadian in origin.

Some of the most acclaimed cartoons within the cartoon community, such as Ed Edd n Eddy and MLP:FIM, were both animated in Canada and had voice actors from there (same talent pool, in fact - Vancouver)

Inspector Gadget and the Beetlejuice animated series helped keep good animation afloat during the 80s. In a decade full of uninspired and insipid cartoons, these were two of the highlights.

Canada is still a great place to outsource animation, as proven with the works of Nelvana, Mercury Filmworks, Jam Filled, and countless others.

If you grew up without cable, you probably watched PBS Kids and/or Qubo a lot. Guess what - lots of the shows on both of those channels were Canadian. For example: the PBS Kids Bookworm Bunch: Timothy Goes to School, Seven Little Monsters, Marvin the Tap-Dancing Horse - these shows are all Canadian! Qubo was also home to Jane and the Dragon, Jacob Two Two, Babar, Spliced, etc - they’re all Canadian too.

Because Canada’s censors are far more lax compared to American ones, Canada has made huge strides in teen and adult animation. Such shows include Total Drama, 6teen, Detentionaire, Undergrads, Producing Parker, etc as well as the movie Heavy Metal.

Also because of the lax censors, Canadian cartoons had positive LGBTQ representation far before the United States did. One episode of 6teen has a character stating “I’m gay,” and in Braceface, the main character assists her gay friend in finding a boyfriend. Unsurprisingly, these episodes never aired in the US.

6teen also dealt with periods before Turning Red, Baymax, and Molly McGee did it (again, the episode was banned in the US).

Finally, here are a few Canadian cartoons I recommend, and where to watch them:

Cybersix (it was a Canadian and Japanese co-production). The whole thing is on TMS’ YouTube channel.

Redwall is on Pluto, and there are episodes of it on YouTube courtesy of Treehouse Direct

Toad Patrol (unfortunately you’re gonna have to resort to low quality YouTube uploads)

Silverwing - again, the complete series is on YouTube

Detentionaire- On Tubi and Pluto!

Ruby Gloom is a great show if you like cute gothic stuff; it too is on Tubi and Pluto

The Adventures of Sam and Max: Freelance Police - on Tubi

One of my favorites, The Raccoons. Basically the Canadian equivalent to The Simpsons, and with a banger ending song. The show’s production company has uploaded episodes of it for free on YouTube.

The original Clone High was animated by the legendary Nelvana (if you’re wondering, the new season is not outsourced to Canada 😔) It is on Paramount Plus and HBO Max

Undergrads - yet again on YouTube, in low quality unfortunately. Like Clone High, it was on MTV.

I also recommend watching some short films from the National Film Board of Canada. My personal favorite is the Log Driver’s Waltz.

Tl;dr - American cartoons are not bad because of Allen Gregory, anime is not bad because of Pupa, and Canadian cartoons are not bad because of Johnny Test or fart jokes.

[kuroppiii]

     little mermaid ᵕ̈           boyfie!kuroo tetsurō x gn reader ˎˊ˗

⋮⋮ ˒ ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 𖥻 ⿻ : "not even the ocean could ⋮⋮  rip me away from you. i'm not going ⋮⋮ anywhere. what am i? sea foam?"

📋 content         ♡ # 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 🐮         ♡ # 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦 🥛         ♡ # ~800 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴

🧸 directory  ‹ ✩  like what you read ? check out more of my blog !  •ᴗ•

💬 kuroppiii ─ “ i ' m in the summer mood thanks to @lcvemiyuki 's account xx . hot writer summer !!! ( not proofread !! ) ”

you turn to the next page of your book. you try your best from letting the sand that's stuck to your sunscreen-ed arm deposit little grains into the nooks and crannies of the novel's binding, but it's hard considering your lounging on your towel stomach-first. the seagulls circling above you and the shade of your beach umbrella mock you as you inevitably fail to do so. you try to lean forward and gently blow the sand off the neatly-printed letters when–

"stop moving babe!" your boyfriend of 6'2" whines like a child. "you're going to ruin art. my art."

and with that, you feel more sand getting dumped on the back of your legs and the light patting of hands to shape it around your body. kuroo was currently trying to give you a mermaid tail.

"how much longer is this gonna take, tetsu?" you struggle to say without giggling through your words. you hear him return your laughter, and although you can't turn around to see it, you can picture his smile and the way his eyes crease at the corners as he does so. you hear his steps in the sand as he comes up to join you and your book.

"it's almost done," he announces before nosing at the side of your face and leaving loving kisses from your temple to your slightly-sunburnt shoulder. you feel the ocean water still remnant in his hair from the swim you two shared earlier.

"you said that about 20 minutes ago if i recall correctly," you tease, trying your best to dodge his sea salty kisses.

"i told you to stop moving! oh, i'm gonna have to start all over again at this rate," he complains with the most dramatic sigh any one person has ever mustered, making you laugh more. "and how do you know it's already been 20 minutes, anyway? i haven't seen you check your phone at all, you've had your nose stuck in that book."

"well can see from the shadow of the sunscreen," you start through your fit of giggles, but as you start your defense kuroo starts to shift so he's right in front of you–face-to-face with you and leaning on his side. maybe it's heatstroke, but you swear you can see a twinkle in your boyfriends eyes, like the way the ocean shimmers in the midday sunlight. "and y'know if the egyptians, if they can use their sun dials to, to tell the passage of time, then... then..."

your laughter dies down and sound of your voice trails off. a subtle smile graces kuroo's lips, and you start to feel small by how devoutly he's admiring you.

you two share a peaceful moment, a lull where it's just you two and the sound of waves crashing against the shore nearby.

"i should bury you in sand more often," he suddenly blurts out, interrupting the silence.

you start laughing again, "why on earth would you say that?"

kuroo shakes his head and places his hand to the side of our smiling cheek, "because that way i know you won't go away. i like having you here, with me."

"i could never leave you, tetsu. even when i get my legs back. not even the ocean could rip me away from you. i'm not going anywhere. what am i? sea foam?" you lightheartedly joke. kuroo hums in response, and you feel the pad of his thumb start to caress your cheekbone.

suddenly you realize how close you two were, you can almost feel his lips on yours and the feeling makes your eyes flutter shut. at last, you feel his soft and tender (and a little sandy) kiss as his hand comes down to take your hand away from your book and into his own.

you depart and it's like you're in a daze. you have to take a deep breath of seaside air and rest your head down on your arm as you and kuroo smile at each other like the two lovestruck idiots you are.

then he goes to brush off the sand from his swim trunks and sit up, "alright babe, what do you say to some sea shells to decorate your marvelous tail–the one you definitely love and will stay still for because yours truly is making it?"

you reach out and grab a fistful of sand and launch it at his torso, which he lets out a pitchy yelp at in response.

"whatever you want mr. artiste, as long as i can get my legs back soon so we can go out and swim again," you say as you shift to continue your book.

kuroo gives you a wink, "anything for my little mermaid."

[foldingfittedsheets]

An FAQ!

Does your ask tag stand for "Folding Fitted Sheets" or "For Fuck's Sake"?

Both! I had been using the handle Foldingfittedsheets for a long time and someone shortened it to FFS and I immediately realized that it was hilarious. All ways of reading it are valid.

Before asking a bed question:

Here’s my helpful guide, I may have covered your question already. There’s also a “bed talk” tag full of info and advice!

Before asking a sex ed question:

Here’s my other helpful guide!

Can you actually fold a fitted sheet?

No. I thought it was a funny handle that was easy to say and hard to do. A metaphor for life being messy and complicated. A task that you can only ever try your best at although failure in inevitable.

When I moved in with my beloved I packed the linen closet and told them that I didn't know if we'd have enough room. They spent a day refolding everything beautifully and it took up a third of the closet. So some people are just built different.

Have you seen this guide on how to fold them??? It's easy!

I am content at my current levels of adequacy and would prefer to spend my time on other pursuits. Thank you for thinking of me, but I'm good.

Will you put a read more on comics?

No. I have tried to put out comics under read more cuts and they do not get the same traction. It's also unfair to ask me to change how I present my work. No one will ever have to scroll through them as much as me and I promise it's never more than 30 seconds which does not feel unreasonable.

Tumblr has a setting that will automatically shorten long posts, and I have provided a tag "do you love the color of the comic" so that you can take initiative to reduce the space they take up. You can also block the new individual comic tag after you’ve read it to stop seeing repeats.

Comics take months of my time to produce and I reblog them a lot when they first launch because I'm excited to share something that I worked really hard on.

I won't be offended if you unfollow me, but I will if you ask me to cater to your sensibilities on how long my art should be.

Will you reblog my mutual aid post?

I’m sorry, but no. If I don’t know you I don’t have the time to check for scams and Tumblr just really isn’t the best platform to ask for help if you’re in dire straits.

Why don’t you have lesbian flags?

I prefer the rainbow and I have very negative connotations with it, which I talk about more here.

Why are all the ace flag creatures sleepy?

An ace friend loved the ace dragon in the first set and said, “It’s sleepy like my sexuality!” I thought that was very cute and when I did gryphons I made them sleepy too. I’ve since gotten a lot of really cute comments on how much people liked the sleepy ace creechurs.

When I went through and revamped the unicorns I noticed the ace unicorn wasn’t sleepy. I made a poll to ask if I should switch it to be consistent with the dragons and gryphons. It was an overwhelming yes so now all the ace creatures are sleepy.

[some-of-us-watch-the-sunset-too]

hii I don’t know if I’m supposed to give ya a prompt like said. But I’ve been feeling angstyyyy sooo if you can no bother my love, could ya do : all of the outsider boys reacting to you (s/o) death?

A/N: Hi anon! the post for the prompts thing is here but i’m taking requests too so dw! I’m feelin the angst rn so this was perfectly timed!

The boys if their S/O d!ed

———————————————————

⚠️ TW for death, implied suicidal thoughts ⚠️

Darry

He would go on living for the most part, not because he doesn’t care about the fact that you’re gone, but he just can’t afford to shut down. if he does, he risks losing Soda and Pony too.

He’d bring flowers to your grave once a week, on Wednesdays (don’t ask why i just decided this). Your favourite flowers. When the first bunch he put down dies, he gets someone he knows, (maybe Ponyboy, i feel like he’d dig arts and crafts) to either press the flowers or dry them so he always has them, even if they bring back painful memories.

To add to the whole getting flowers thing, he’d always take one out of each bunch, just like he did before your death to make sure that he replaces them as soon as they wilt.

He most likely got the call about your passing and had to tell the guys. He tried to stay calm while telling them but he broke down before he could finish.

Ponyboy

This hurts just to think about! He, unlike Darry would shut down completely. He’d be failing class, wouldn’t get out of bed and would hardly eat. If we count it as after Johnny and Dally die, that would be 3 people he cared about that died (other than his parents)

If you two watched the sunset together often i feel like he’d never watch it again. it would be too painful for him.

Whenever he gets into an argument with Darry he runs out of the house and straight to your grave. He’d sit there and vent to you and eventually fall asleep there. the guys probably put a bench by your grave so he’d sleep there.

I think that after he was functional again, he’d get very cold and bitter, kinda like Dally. He’d get into fights all the time and would start acting out. He just doesn’t know how to cope with you gone..

Sodapop

Sodapop would go to your grave everyday after work and just talk to you about his day. he would fill you in on everything going on with the guys, any rumbles or fights with socs, stuff like that.

I honestly think that if Soda was serious about your relationship he would have given you a promise ring. I think that even after you were gone he would keep wearing it and maybe even put yours on a chain and wear that under his t-shirt, right next to his heart.

If it was a violent death? He would completely stop fighting, he would only see it as a constant reminder of what happened to you, he would realise that it really didn’t do any good.

He wouldn’t fully shut down but i think he would stop hanging out with the guys so much and would get very quiet. He wouldn’t be his laughing, wild self anymore. He knows that isn’t what you would’ve wanted but how could he keep on joking when you were gone? how could he ignore it?

Dally

Dally would go on hating and fighting more than he ever did. The world took so much from him and now it took you too? Why should he care about anyone or anything if you weren’t there anymore.

He’d spend a lot of time at your grave. No talking, he’d just sit there and smoke a cigarette. Sometimes he’d silently cry, but he hates crying out in the open.

Dally would blame himself. It doesn’t matter how you passed away, he would look at every detail of the days leading up to your death and see if there was any moment where he could’ve done something to stop it. if it was a violent death, could he have stopped you from getting into that situation in the first place? if it was an accident, could he have stopped it from happening, could he have made it so that it was him instead?

Steve

Steve would be kind of like Dally. He’d hate and fight more than ever. How could the world be so cruel that he’d take you from him?

I feel like it could be his first proper experience with loss, which is different to the others that i’ve written about so far. He really wouldn’t know how to cope. he’d try to go on living, then he would shut down for a while, then he would probably just have to get out of town for a while.

I honestly think he’d do something drastic. Rob a gas station or snap and start a fight with his dad or something. He would get very reckless too. where he would be careful when competing in drag races, now he would speed up if anything.

He is so afraid of forgetting your face. He keeps a picture of you in his jacket pocket to make sure he doesn’t forget but he realises he’s starting to forget the smaller things like how you’d make this particular face when you’re being sarcastic, and how your face would light up when someone mentioned your favourite things.

Two-Bit

Two would start drinking even more, you were lucky to see him sober. He’d stop hanging out with the guys.

He would be angry for a while. Angry that you left him here alone. Of course he knows deep down that it’s not your fault but he can’t help it. Two probably went to your grave one day, drunker than ever. He started giving out that you left him and ended up throwing his bottle of beer at your headstone. That snapped him out of it. He picked everything up and cleaned the headstone best he could.

After the angry phase is gone he would start to write you letters filling you in on everything. He couldn’t bring himself to go to your gave so he just pretended you had moved far away. He puts them in a big box under his bed. He considered burning them, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it

He sometimes forgets you’re not there though. Say if he’s doing something he might yell “Y/N could you pass me the ___” then remember you’re not there and just sits down and cries, even a few years after.

Johnny

Johnny really can’t deal with it. With his parents being so bad and you being his main support, he couldn’t take it anymore.

I honestly think that he would run away, let everyone forget him. Sometimes he would consider the ways to see you again, but luckily someone always snaps him out of it.

He hangs out with the guys more than ever, it keeps him from shutting down completely. they become his main support, but he’s even more quiet, he sits a little outside of the group when in the curtis’ house.

After a few months of grieving he remembers a list you guys wrote about all your hopes and dreams. So he decides that he’s going to complete everything on it. He lives for the two of you.

[hollow-lime-green]

hi!! just wondering if you have any stsg fic recs you’d be willing to share? i’m currently gobbling up 2sorcs like a gremlin and looking for something else to read between updates but i only really trust your opinions and characterizations which 🤌🏼🤌🏼🤌🏼 anyways love ur work and hope you’re doing well!!

Ah! First of all, thank you <3 I do have some fics I really like! I shall rec them and give a little anxiety disclaimer at the end.

Fic Recs - Shorties

it would make a whole - by @diggingupgrave 8.8k, T, First Year, Pre-Relationship, Emotional H/C oh i love this fic so very much. this may have been one of the fics that really got me thinking about their characterization in the first place, tbh.

As You Wish - by @haha-funny-valentine 2.5k, T, Post-Star Plasma Arc, Emotional H/C wonderful characterization here and I am just such a sucker for H/C.

The Heart of the Perfection of Wisdom - by @zombieheroine 16.3k, T, Prison Realm Gojo Character Study I took my skin off to check and I am shocked that this fic is not like, Doing Numbers. this fic is SO fucking creative and unique and I just. love. it. Definitely a big inspiration for FIYM. It's like Harrow the Ninth but for Gojo in the Prison Realm and like, oh my god so well done imo.

Longfic Recs with Caveats

and if you take my hand (series) - by @detta-pica 40k (Ongoing), T, Witch AU, Slow Burn Caveat: this is a WIP, and we're in the early part so very much Unresolved Romantic Tension. But I really like the worldbuilding in this and I'm excited to follow it as it keeps going, so big rec here if you like Plot and are down to follow some more ongoing fics. :)

coanda effect - by @bunniehoneys 250k, M, F1 AU, Slow Burn, Eating Disorders, Drugs, Bad Choices I am probably the last person in the world to read this fic so it feels silly to rec, but I'm doing it anyway because I'm a little obsessed. Caveat 1: also technically a WIP for another week or two

Caveat 2: TAGS check the tags. If you are at all sensitive to discussion of EDs, skip this fic, but I think it's done well and adds a lot to the characterization

Caveat 3: I am not caught up on this fic. it's one that I didn't let myself read for a while (see below) but F1 has a special place in my heart (my dad is into it, I used to live in a Gran Prix city, and I have watched WAY too much F1 Lets Play content).

I've been working really shitty hours for the past 48 hours (almost done) due to research that requires specific spans of real earth time. Because I don't have the focus to write right now, I've had the chance to read a little, and I've read about 75% of this gargantuan fic in windowless rooms on my phone, which has to say something about how much I love it lmao.

Disclaimer: I am a bad source of stsg fics because I actually don't read very many. If I read amazing fic then it tends to trigger the "you will never be as good as the old masters" part of the brain, although instead of real art like in the meme, my fic is putting gojo in a minecraft hoodie and making him do the gangnam style dance. Still.

I also get very unhealthy about metrics/numbers, which I mostly manage by using AO3 skins to block stats, but I still have some moments of weakness. So I try to avoid looking at stuff that I know might make me anxious/insecure about my own works and be unable to finish them (this has unfortunately happened to me before in the FE3H fandom, and that continues to weigh on me).

All that to say, there are some really big, nice, and well-loved fics by wonderful authors currently being updated, and I have read almost none of them. So this is absolutely not me saying I don't like their characterizations, I'm just kind of a hermit.